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luna-writes-stuff · 7 months

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Eternally Missed, Bilbo Baggins

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Fluff, mutual pining/oblivious reader

Word count: 3295

Tw: Not proofread. Race not specified, but could be implied as dwarvish. Self-degrading thoughts, mutual pining. Will they, won’t they. Slight angst. Misinterpreted feelings and actions. Oblivious reader, oops. That’s it?

Summary: Ever since laying eyes on your first, Bilbo knew it was you who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He tries to make this clear incredibly quick, fully aware of how little time he may have. But you were as oblivious as they came, and dismissed his proposals as platonic gestures. Until finally, he snaps, and just decides to tell you.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Chase your dreams away.

Glass needles in the hay.”

Throughout the journey, you could only be described as truly oblivious. Maybe not in your eyes, but definitely in those of the company. Their beloved burglar had fallen absolutely head over heels with you, yet there was something within you that simply seemed to not acknowledge it.

In hindsight, you might have seen it, or might have had a slight idea of what was happening, but the last thing you wanted to do was to get your hopes up. Thus, it was mere matter of a polite smile and dismissal without making it sound like a dismissal. You didn’t want to let him down, even though you had no idea of his true intentions.

You see, during the entire time of your travel to Erebor, Bilbo has tried to make it abundandly clear how fond he is of you. But between the running from imminent death, enemies luring around every corner and getting imprisoned every once in a while, the moments were never opportune enough. It didn’t mean that he didn’t try, but clearly, the ambiance was wrong. If he ever wanted to court someone, he’d propose it in his garden, under the clear nightsky of Hobbiton with a warm breeze in the air. Not after recovering for breath after having to run for thirty whole minutes, or in the dirty atmosphere of the Goblin caves. But fate did not seem to be on his side whatsoever. But he was nothing if not adamant.

“The sun forgives the clouds.

You are my holy shroud.”

The first time wanted to make his intentions clear during your stay in Rivendell. The dwarves had been bathing when he approached you, doubt and anxiety apparent in his features - but then again, when wasn’t it?

He had sat down next to you on one of the balconies, talking about anything but the mountain and the now known presence of the orcs. He had spoken about his home in the Shire fondly, recounting many tales of friends and neighbours. It was a nice distraction after the adrenaline of the travel had worn off.

In turn, you had spoken about your home and those waiting for you. He remembered the hesitance in his voice when he asked you about a suitor. You hadn’t even properly answered him at that to begin with. At first, you began to laugh, and talked about your parents. He thought you were mocking him, even though that was extremely unlinke you. But when you continued to rant and talk, it appeared to him that you had no idea what he was actually asking you. And he didn’t have it in him to correct you or to properly ask you. Perhaps it was a bit too early. You just met a handful of days ago.

Fortunately, he did not leave it at that.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.”

The second time he tried was when the group was making their way out of Rivendell. He had gotten some good rest and found himself comfortable enough to bring the conversation back up.

But you were distracted. He couldn’t tell back then, but he certainly could now. The talk with Bilbo had left you somewhat homesick. The comfort of Rivendell was almost begging for you to stay. You wanted to help the dwarves - more than anything, but you understood the comfort hobbits sought in their own homes.

You had given him brief, one-worded answers, your gaze absent. It had broken his heart that day. If you weren’t making your disinterest clear the day before, you certainly had then. It caused him to be silent for the rest of the travels until you crossed the mountains. Much to his relief, you stayed close to him, and didn’t part during the fight of the giants, but the new hit of adrenaline caused him to cling to you the entire time, a mutual action. Neither of you had realized how close the two of you were until you were roughly separated after a rough boulder collided between the two of you.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.

No, it doesn't change.”

That night in the cave you kept circling Bilbo. He had almost fallen from the cliff if it hadn’t been for Thorin. And the idea made you inexplicably sick. You liked Thorin, even as he had been harsh from the start, but the fact that you weren’t able to dangle off the cliff to save Bilbo had left you feeling somewhat powerless. And the only comfort you could offer the hobbit was your company and your tales.

It had caused his hopes to resurface again. Of everyone out there, you wanted to sit with him, and talk with him. Perhaps your absent answers were simply because you were tired, or too focused.

He didn’t know how to bring the topic back up, though. It had caused an awkward silence after you finished your talk. He still couldn’t quite tell if he was grateful for the floor to - literally - fall through or not.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

The first time he swore he could have kissed you, was after Azog’s confrontation with Thorin. The battle had left the king defenseless, and you had rushed to his aid. At your actions, Bilbo blindly followed, making sure his eyes were on you constantly. The eagles had come just in time to sweep you off to safety, but the entire flight had left him nauseous. If it wasn’t for Gandalf, both you and Thorin would have lain on that floor, completely lifeless. To make matters even worse, you had landed on a different eagle. So, Bilbo had no choice but to simply sit there with a heavy feeling in his stomach until he could finally stand again.

And when he did, he rushed towards you. This could have been his moment. He could have swung his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him, his lips finally touching yours in a manner he was only able to dream off, but when you stood a few inches from him, something in him had told him to stop.

In that moment, you swore he was going to kiss you. Instead, he gave you an uncomfortable hug, followed by two brief pats on the back. He had turned around immediatelym refusing to let you see his reddening face, leaving you with a slight frown. If he was going to kiss you, you might have just let it happen.

“And you can't resist.

And you can't resist.

Making me feel.”

The rest of the journey had been awful for him. In his mind, that awkward reunion kept lingering. His chance had been right there and he refused to take it for whatever reason. And to top it all of; you seemed to grow more distant from him, and it hurt him deeply. It bothered him so much, that eventually, the company began catching on. Fili was the first one to notice, and had given him a good talk about courtship and whatnot. It was all in good nature, but it had left Bilbo with more details than he might have wanted.

But simple hints in conversation seemed to not do the trick. And maybe dwarven courting ideals weren’t the best, but they were certainly worth the try. When he made his first move according to Fili’s advice, more dwarves began to catch on.

“Chase your dreams away.

Glass needles in the hay.”

He had taken his sweet time hunting down anything he could find. Food, especially for you, to prove that - in Fili’s words - he could provide. But when he had a chance of slaying a rabbit, he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he came back with fresh mushroom, some non-poisonous berries and leaves that would make an excellent soup. It wasn’t hunting, but it still gave him the idea that - yes; he could provide.

You didn’t think much of. You find it nice, and thanked him fondly for it. Yet, there were others in the company that might have been hungry, so you gave it to Bombur, so he could use it in his meal for the group. Bilbo had told you this was okay, but he couldn’t help but feel slight heartbreak when you asked him.

He wasn’t being clear enough. Stupidly enough, he seemed to take comfort in Fili’s words, so he had returned to him that same night, telling the dwarf about what had happened. He agreed that you might just need some bolder insinuations. So, it was time for the next part.

“The sun forgives the clouds.

You are my holy shroud.”

It was at Beorn’s house when he approached you with a small wooden sculpture he made. It couldn’t have been bigger than your palm. It was sloppy and crude, and nowhere near the excellent craft of the dwarves, but Fili assured him that it wouldn’t matter if the feelings and intentions were true. He had tried to create the birds you mentioned in your tales about home. You would speak about them fondly when he asked how your place was.

Again, you accepted the gift with much glee, thanking him an endless amount of times. A warm hug was shared - one that would remain in Bilbo’s mind for a long time. It was soothing, unlike the uncomfortable embrace shared upon the rock. This was heartfelt, and genuine. He remembered thinking that this was it; you had accepted.

But, you stuffed it in your pocket, promising to keep it close, before showing it off to the rest of the company. And that was it. No other words mentioned to him, or even slight hints that you were catching on. You seemed to remain oblivious. Now, Bilbo truly couldn’t tell whether this was because you simply had no idea what was happening, or if this was your way of letting him know you weren’t interested.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.”

There were so many more times where he tried to make his feelings clear. Countless conversations were held, more gifts were shared, he fought at your side, he would continue to bring you food, even if it was to be shared with the company. And you didn’t seem to catch on to anything.

What Bilbo hadn’t known was the true moment of the defeat you held whilst imprisoned by the woodland elves. Bilbo hadn’t known how you had been sitting against the wall in your cell, your knees up to your chest. He didn’t hear your own degrading words circling around in your mind about how you were just making things up. About how someone as sincere and kind as Bilbo could never show true interest in someone like you. How you had cursed yourself to stop thinking every gift he gave you, was to show you he wanted to court you - even though you were right to think those things.

The dwarves didn’t dare to speak about it. They didn’t know your words, but they knew your looks. They wouldn’t intervene. They knew how precious and fragily courtship was; one wrong word and it could cause huge grief on either side. Women were most treaured in their culture, and they’d rather die than see your heart break into a million pieces if Fili were to slip up or Ori would say something out of their norms.

They didn’t dare to let Bilbo know how helplessly you had told them that Bilbo wouldn’t come for them. That he was off to safety - as you had wished.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.

No, it doesn't change.”

It wasn’t until Smaug had finally been slain that Bilbo decided enough was enough. It wasn’t until Thorin had gone completely mad, that he decided that now would be the excellent time to share yet another one of your precious conversations.

Somewhere in the treasure chamber, you had collapsed behind a huge golden pile. Here, Thorin couldn’t see you. A brief break would surely escape his eyes.

You had shot up at the sound of footsteps, pretending to be searching through the endless piles of jewels. You were tired; your muscles were aching, your head was pounding from the golden light, you were starving and you felt as if you were going to fall asleep if you were to lie down again.

When you noticed Bilbo’s form approaching on top of the mountain you were working on, you uttered a sigh of relief, collapsing once again, knowing he wouldn’t dare to alert Thorin of your short break.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“There you are,” He spoke, not needing to lower his volume, as the clattering of gold bounced off the walls, drowning out enough noise. You looked up at him with a kind smile: “Not much else to go to.” He frowned, sitting down beside you as he studied your features.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” You sighed, rolling your shoulders. “I’m exhausted.” “I can tell.” He muttered, worried evident in his eyes, a glimpse you caught. “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine.” You dismissed, knowing he had no ill intentions. Silence fell over the two of you, though this one wasn’t uncomfortable. In the weirdest location, it brough some sense of peace.

Bilbo fished into his pockets, placing a piece of bread and a small flask on your lap. “I brought you this.” Your heart warmed at the sight, a feather-light feeling entering your chest: “Thank you,” “I couldn’t sneak a full plate in. Thorin would notice.” “This is fine, Bilbo,” You assured, immediately starting your small meal. ”Thank you.”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“You can't resist.

You can't resist.

Making me feel.”

He didn’t quite know what to do when you were eating. He came here with the intention of being honest with you. No turning around anything, no sugar-coating, just the proposal. If it was to be brief and boring, than so be it.

But, once more, something held him back. It didn’t seem right. He was going to run off this night for the Arkenstone, so if you rejected him, he wouldn’t really have to face you afterwards. But a hurtful rejection followed by betrayal might not have been the smartest move either. He was too much in his head when the words suddenly flew out, even surprising him: “Do you like me?”

You stopped chewing at the words, swallowing harshly as you looked at him, confusion in your eyes as your eyebrows furrowed together: “Beg your pardon?”

“You can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

Bilbo recovered quickly, coughing slightly as he tried to defend himself. “It’s just that, throughout the journey, you keep creating distance between us. And we were so close at the beginning.” You nodded your head at that, cursing yourself silently for giving him the completely wrong idea. “Yes,” You hissed. “I do like you, Bilbo. And I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression.”

A huge weight lifted off his shoulders at your words, his chest suddenly feeling a lot less restricting than it suddenly had.

“You can't resist.

You can't resist

Making me feel.”

He watched your hands wander to your pockets, pulling out a familiar pebble as you anxiously toyed with it. Bilbo had given it to you after your escape from Mirkwood. You seemed to not be there completely, so he gave you a rock from the river so you had something to fidget with while Balin talked to Bard. He hadn’t known how much it actually soothed you, if only for the simple though of it.

“You kept that?” He asked curiously. “Of course I did,” You smiled, taking the pebble out of your pocket and laying it in the palm of your hand. “It was a gift. What did you think I would do with it?” “I don’t know.” The hobbit spoke honestly. “I’ve never seen them after I handed them to you.”

You breathed an ‘ah’ of understanding, before storing it back in your coat. “I kept them in my bag. Most of it has been stolen by the elves now, but some things still remain. You didn’t think I’d get rid of them, right?” When he didn’t answer to that, your hands found his, unconsciously sending goosebumps up his arm: “I would never. Not voluntarily.”

“Thank you.” He muttered.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“Bilbo,” You began, retreating your hands as you thought over all that he had done for you. You might have been oblivious, but you weren’t stupid: “I do not wish to give you any unwanted impression of anything, but…” You trailed off, holding your breath as a bad kind of butterflies entered your stomach. “You have given me many things and kept me safe a numerous amount of times, and my gratitude exceeds my words, but…”

You didn’t know what to tell him. You didn’t know how. And there was no way to bring it lightly. Thus, with a hard swallow, you threw it out. “You do know that your actions look an awful lot like dwarven courting customs? I am pretty sure the company is convinced I am your spouse.”

His breath hitched at that. He came here to tell you, and now you were starting his conversation. What was he going to tell you? Honesty seemed so difficult now, but there was something in your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Some faint glance of recognition. And it gave him confidence: “They are.” He breathed, before quickly correcting himself. “Courting customs. Fili taught me.” “Oh,” “Yes,”

A second silence laid heavily, and neither of you really knew what to say to the other. So, per usual, Bilbo took the lead after a handful of hesitant seconds. “Um, but I’ve probably gotten the wrong hints from you so-”

“No,” You denied. “No, no, no. It’s simply that…This was intentional?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,”

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“But I understand if the feelings aren’t returned.” Bilbo added, already standing up from his seat. He was about to leave when your voice forced him to turn around: “Why me?” He couldn’t help but let a quiet scoff of confusion out. “I’m sorry?” “Of all the people out there, why me?”

Why you? He really couldn’t tell. He hadn’t met anyone in the Shire, and the way his life would have gone if it hadn’t been for Gandalf showing up, he might have never found anyone. Why you? He didn’t know. And he was honest to voice it: “I just know.”

“Oh,” You repeated, the sound coming out more as a breath than a pronounced word. “I am sorry. I wasn’t blind, though I doubt that will make you feel better.” You admitted. “I didn’t want to imagine things that weren’t there.” You didn’t see the way Bilbo’s face softened at that, or the way his heart fluttered when you finally spoke those words. “Thought I would save myself the heartbreak.” “You didn’t have to.” He sighed. Once more, he prepared to leave. And once more, he was interrupted by you.

“Bilbo?” “Hm?” He hummed as he turned around, a faint glimpse of hope in his heart. It only grew as you asked him your next question: “Once we get out of this, where will we go?” A bright smile came from his face as his breath hitched significantly. “Home, I suppose.”

You copied his smile, nodding your head at him.

“I’d like that.”

“And you can't resist.

And you can't resist

Making me feel.”

#november writings 2023 #the hobbit #tolkien #Bilbo Baggins #Bilbo #bilbo x reader #Bilbo Baggins x reader

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heliads · 11 months

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LISA YOU DID NOT GIVE ME TIME TO PREPARE FOR THIS!!! However, I already had a few ideas in mind for the next time you opened requests, so:

May I pretty please request a Thorin Oakenshield + gender-neutral reader where the reader is a fairy who comes along on the journey to Erabor because Gandalf thought they needed another magic-user? Reader is a very sweet sunshine who gets along great with all the other party members, but because Thorin doesn’t trust fairies the same way he doesn’t trust elves (because they didn’t assist the dwarves after Erabor fell the first time) he refuses to let them get close to him. However, he does start to get closer to them and develop feelings for them as time goes on, but after the Battle of the Five Armies (where everyone lives, obviously) they can’t find the reader for a while and Thorin is terrified they might be dead. And when they finally find them relatively unharmed Thorin freaks out and confesses his love because he doesn’t want to lose them, and then there’s a very nice fluffy ending??

Of course, if you don’t want to write this, that’s totally cool!! Thanks and I hope you’re doing well!! <3 <3

YESSSS i am ascending to a higher plane thank you for this SUBLIME request

masterlist

The water is wide, the mountains high; no journey worth taking was ever meant to be easy, so you may assume from the first few treacherous days of your travels towards the Lonely Mountain that this quest of yours will be quite worthy indeed. It is not in your nature to spend much time musing on the unhappiness of a time, only to find its merits, but, well, there are far more sources of unhappiness than happiness on this particular journey.

It would not be too much of a leap for even your optimism to be brought down a notch or two, to say the least. Already, your smiles are lacking a little at the seams; your jokes, not among your finest work. Patience is stretched thin amongst the company, and the shadow of Erebor is no closer to the tips of your boots than the Shire far behind you.

The Shire was not your home, though, only the starting point. The last member of the company was Bilbo Baggins, your burglar, and he took quite a bit of convincing before he was willing to set a single foot beyond the familiar confines of his home. You’re not sure he was wrong to question the idea of the quest, though, nor if he regrets it already or not. Danger dogs your heels like a bloodhound, plus the rest of the company is nothing like any of the hobbits Bilbo has ever met.

Bilbo Baggins would not be the only one confused by his company, however. As a faerie, you’ve had the opportunity to travel far past the bounds of your city, to meet characters both kind and cruel. The Fae cluster in settlements like elves, but they disperse themselves to the winds, too. Most of you end up tossed to the whims of Fate soon enough, anyway. This was your chance to get to know the world you inhabit, and it appears you’ll get far more of a tasting of it than you ever expected.

It’s not terrible. That should go without saying. You are not unhappy that you are here, nor bitter that you signed the contract to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield when you could have stayed at home to rot. It is a good cause, this, and it will bring you both glory and treasure, should you want it.

The biggest problem, if you were going to be completely honest with yourself, would be that dwarf tasked with managing all of you, Thorin. You get along splendidly with all of the other dwarves, and Gandalf has been a friend of yours ever since you wowed him with a particularly ingenious magic trick when you were small, but for some reason you have never been able to win over Thorin himself.

That is not for lack of trying, not in the slightest. Gandalf was the one who requested that you join the company, certain that having another magic user on their side would not be the worst thing in the world as you passed through dangerous territory and had to take on a dragon later on. You showed up to meet the company with the best and purest of intentions, but Thorin seemed unable to accept the fact that you really wanted to help.

In truth, you don’t think he wanted to accept it. Thorin is displeased with the faeries the same way he’ll never forgive the elves, for the same reasons he’ll glare icily at humans. When Thorin’s kin fell along with Erebor, the faeries didn’t help. Thorin begged for aid, but the faeries did not respond. You’ll never fully know why, nor were you personally responsible for the betrayal, but that does not stop Thorin from treating as if you were the linchpin keeping support from his people.

It doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t have to matter. Thorin’s personal feelings are not why you signed onto this quest. You joined because an old friend asked, and because the idea of helping to liberate the dwarves’ homeland from a dragon seemed like a good thing to do and a fascinating way to pass the time. Faeries don’t take things seriously. They never have.

So, you let your caution with Thorin fly away from you on an eagle’s strong wings, and you throw yourself into helping whenever you can. Gandalf is pulled away from the company soon enough for a myriad of causes, and even Thorin can admit that your magical skills come in handy soon enough. You save all of their lives dozens of times over, and you find real friendship in the company while you’re at it. Nothing a little optimism can’t handle.

Some of the nights get long, though, and the warmth of a covert campfire can only keep your tired frame from shivering for so many hours. They say the bones of the Fae are hewn from diamonds, your blood, the eternal nectar of the gods, but at this moment, you want only the mysticism and riches of a good meal and clothes that actually protect you against the chill. The mountains only get colder as you travel through them, and you don’t think you’ll be able to shake the prick of gooseflesh for decades if not centuries.

You’re on watch at the moment, scanning the dark horizon around you for monsters or orcs while the rest of the company rests. You’ll have another hour or two before you have to wake the next guardian– Bilbo, actually, who’s still snoring with the rest– so you should have plenty of time to yourself until then.

You should, at least. You don’t, because someone here is still awake. You had cast a spell on yourself to amplify sound and sight at the start of your watch so you could spot intruders that much more quickly, which is why you’re aware of one heartbeat other than your own that isn’t in the lull of sleep. When you tilt your head to the side just enough, you can make out someone staring in your peripheral vision.

Thorin. Who else? At first, you feel a rush of indignation bubble through your veins. There’s no reason for him to be awake on a night like this. Everyone is exhausted from weeks of hard travel, but he’s forced himself to forgo rest so he can make sure you are actually doing your job. After all this time, he still doesn’t trust you to do watch properly. It’s infuriating.

Sick of pretending like you don’t notice, you turn abruptly to stare him dead in the eyes. You expect Thorin to do something: address you, maybe, or do something to acknowledge that he’s been caught, but instead he just holds your gaze coolly for a moment longer before turning on his other side. Half an hour later, he’s asleep.

Heroes. You’ll never understand them. The Fae are not the stuff of legends; your people prefer to linger in shadows and sunlight both, existing for themselves and for the glory of magic. Heroes, quest-leaders, warriors, they were never someone you grew up with. They have different motives, ones you don’t understand. They think they need to watch your back just because it’s the right thing to do. It confuses you, makes you believe things that might not be true. You don’t need someone like Thorin messing with your head right now, but he seems perfectly content to do it anyway.

The rest of the night passes without issue. You finish your watch shift without anything impactful, and rouse a deeply annoyed Bilbo to take over after you. Thorin doesn’t trouble you again, and indeed, the next day he seems perfectly content to act as if nothing had ever happened.

No self-respecting faerie would ever let themselves drop a grudge, though, so you manufacture a way of bringing it up before long. The company disperses in a long line, the slower ones trailing behind while Thorin keeps up the charge at the front. You make your way up to him, waiting until everyone else behind you is sufficiently far away so as to not hear a word of the inevitable quarrel, then cast Thorin one sidelong glance.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve been watching me?”

Thorin actually stumbles while he’s walking, but manages to right himself just in time. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

You weren’t expecting him to outright deny it. This past night hasn’t been the only time you’ve caught his eyes on you. It has happened from the very start of the quest, actually. At first, his gaze was pinned to you like a wanted poster, full of judgment and suspicion. Recently, the hostility has gone down, but that doesn’t make him any less willing to look away. His gaze chases your heels as you clamber over rocks, lingers on your fingers as you fight. All this, and he still wants to act as if nothing has happened.

You scoff. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Let’s discuss last night, then. You keep staying awake during my watch. Why? Do you really trust me that little?”

Thorin shakes his head, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the horizon. “I do trust you.”

This does actually come as a surprise. He hasn’t been able to admit it aloud, likely because that would contradict his whole idea that faeries are selfish creatures who left his people to die in the fall of Erebor, but apparently he’s made an exception for you.

“Then why not let me conduct my watch in peace?” You pry.

Thorin jerks a shoulder up and down once, a taut and tense version of a shrug. “I don’t want any lapse in judgment to injure the people I care about.”

You feel your relatively good mood drop. Thorin lashes out often, most frequently when he’s sure he’s only leading his company towards their imminent destruction, so you shouldn’t take it personally. Kind of hard not to, though.

“So you think I’m blind to attackers and I’ll get everyone killed, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I’m just worried that there are things out there worse than one of your spells,” Thorin argues, but he doesn’t sound too convincing anymore.

You shove your hands into the pockets on your coat. “You know, I just don’t get it. If you’re this opposed to faeries, why did you ever let Gandalf convince you to let me join your company?”

“I didn’t want to at the start,” Thorin begrudgingly admits, “but that was at the start, like I said. Things are different now.” He pauses, voice heavy with secrets as of yet left unsaid, then adds, “We’re different.”

You think this might be the most honest thing he’s ever shared with you. It makes you feel– a lot, actually. It makes you feel things you have not considered until now. Thorin does trust you and he does have reasons he wants to keep you around. In fact, he might even be counting you among the people he cares about and wants to protect.

You don’t have much time to think about it, not on the road and not even after you reach Erebor and immediately have to contend with an infuriated dragon. Thorin shows you the place after you have a moment of relative peace, pointing out the details his ancestors built into a home that has not been his in quite some time. It is as if he wants you to remember all of it. It is as if he wants it to be yours as well.

Peace does not last forever, it never does. One day, you’re exploring every room and corridor of Thorin’s home beneath the Lonely Mountain, the next, you’re watching army after army pour over the surrounding hills. No one likes power when it isn’t theirs. The thought that Thorin might finally have claim to his ancestral land wasn’t well favored by anyone in the vicinity, apparently.

That only means that you’ll have to fight twice as hard to keep Erebor in the hands of your friends. Even when the elves ride up to your doorstep with the humans, even when the orcs arrive out of nowhere, you stay and fight. Always. That’s what you do for the people you care about.

Thorin had asked once if you were going to leave. He’d posed the question slowly, hesitantly, eyes on any other object in the room except you, but you’d still had the perfect view of the relief on his face when you told him you would stay until it was done. There was still an open question of what you would do when it was over, but surviving a battle of this magnitude was the first crisis to deal with. Anything else could happen later, once everyone made it through alive.

That alone seemed like an impossible task, and by all accounts, it should have been. Never before in your life have you cast so many spells of such strength, saving the lives of your friends and ending those of your enemies all in turn. When it is over, you are covered in blood and ash, utterly exhausted, and injured, but your heart beats, at least, and that is enough.

You were separated from the rest of Thorin’s company during the progress of the battle, drawn out to find the best vantage point from which you could cast your spells. At first, you were going for long distance attacks, lobbing fireballs and extensive charges from a crumbling rooftop, but orcs quickly descended upon you and you were forced to resort to closer quarter magic instead.

Perhaps that is why they thought you were dead. When they could no longer see your spells from across the battlefield, there was no way to tell for sure if you were still alive. You were far away from them, fighting off the last of the enemy, and you didn’t find them for a while.

More specifically, they didn’t find you for a while. Later, you hear that Thorin had been in a sort of frantic haze, going over every rock and stone in his path in an all consuming quest to find you. You weren’t with Fili and Kili, who were immediately folded into the search party, nor were you alongside the other dwarfs. Bard had not seen you. Neither had some of the elves. By all accounts, you were gone. Vanished from sight.

That was the one thing Thorin wanted to hear the least. A body is something you can handle, a final decision. If he could not see you, he assumed you were either dead or about to be, and only his actions could save you. He would run himself ragged trying to find you and stop your death before it happened. He would have forced all the orcs in the land back to the fiery hellhole they came from, fought every monster and defeated every enemy, if it would have stopped a sword from piercing your heart.

And so, when he finally stumbled over a rocky outcropping and saw you calmly casting a spell of healing on one of his cousin’s soldiers. You had turned upon hearing him approach, and the last of Thorin’s terrors left him in one fell swoop. You were alright. He was alright. Everything, although damaged and broken and wholly consumed with ash and blood, would somehow end up okay.

Not much was said. Both of you lacked the words. Too many friends had been lost, not enough saved. Erebor would be protected, though. You swore that oath at the start, back when you joined the company for the first time, and you promise it again now. The Fae will have to wait a little longer to welcome you back. You would like to stick around a for a while.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

tolkien taglist: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes, @crazyhearttragedy

#thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield imagines #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield oneshot #the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit oneshot #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien oneshot #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit thorin imagines #the hobbit thorin x reader #the hobbit thorin oneshot #thorin #thorin imagines #thorin x reader #thorin oneshot

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bagginshieldlibrary · 3 months

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SUNDAY FIC REC LIST

This week's selection is Hurt/Comfort. So get your Blankies, snackies and a trusted stuffed companion, because this is going to hurt your feelings.

First up is Teach Me Your Ways by airebellah

Summary: Thorin sat in a bookstore reading to his nephews. He struggled to read the foreign English text, but he would do anything to please his nephews. Including humiliating himself in front of a cute man with a small boy of his own.

Thorin Durin, forced from his home in war-torn Erebor, struggles to adapt to England’s language and customs. Bilbo offers to help, and amongst many a cultural confusion, their relationship quickly grows beyond simple language lessons.

Rating: Gen

The summary says it all. :)

(you need and account to read it)

Next Up is Bad Blood by @conkers-thecosy

Summary: Bilbo patted Gloin awkwardly on the back, once, and was glad when the dwarf let go. It had only been a fraction of the time Thorin had held him for on the Carrock, and he was glad for it. Somehow it had been different, and perhaps until now, until he had been hugged fast by another of their company, held as a friend expressing gratitude, Bilbo hadn’t quite realised how different.

The thought of their leader caused Bilbo’s gaze to drag across to where Thorin was standing, restrained firmly by two elves, and he was embarrassed to find those blue eyes fixed upon him quite unblinkingy. His expression was unreadable, as it always seemed to be, but there was something fierce in his gaze. Something barely contained. Hidden, but so close to the surface that Bilbo still got a sense of it. Like a shadow, or smoke reflected in glass.

***

Or: How might the events of Mirkwood unfolded if Bilbo hadn't had the ring?

Rating: Teen and up

Angry protective Bilbo. Biting. Feral acts of violence against elves. Nobody's secrets are safe. Conkers I love you for this one.

In third we have, A King's Bond by Mordelle

Summary: King Thorin felt like Mahal Himself had swung his mighty hammer and cracked it right between his dazed blue eyes. The vibrations from The Strike shook his very being from his skull to his heart and then out through every nerve in his body. His eyes rolled back, his lungs expelled every breath of air, and the King Under the Mountain swooned so violently that his chair tipped backward with a loud crash, leaving everyone in the room silently gaping at the head of the table where only a pair of royal boots could be seen. His One had finally returned his Call.

Rating: Mature

(just imagine a string of crying emoji's here.) there's fading, there's parental rage, there's slow burn. They love each other your honor.

Our 4th fic is Wild Wings by DomesticGoddess

Summary:

Wounded and stranded in a strange forest, Thorin finds himself in the care of a lovebird, a reclusive and mysterious race. He’s not impressed. His host appears backward and primitive. But Bilbo seems content enough to play caretaker while Thorin heals, and that is a mercy. Isolated with the halfling, Thorin has little to do besides navigate the barriers between them and learn more about his host. The more he learns, the more he finds himself drawn to the selfless, hardworking hobbit.

But how can he be sure that this growing attraction between them is anything more than an intimacy brought on by isolation? Besides, Thorin’s a king. He’ll have to return to his kingdom, and Bilbo has never left the forest.

Rate: Explicit

WING FIC!! WING FIC!!!! WING FIC!!!!! That is all.

And lastly we have Through the mist (I find you) by MiraHerondale

Summary: Bilbo returns to Erebor two years after the Battle of the five Armies, invited by his friends to join the Durin's Day festivities. With his last memory of Thorin being him dying on the ice of Ravenhill, he worries he might not be entirely welcome. After all, he never heard about his banishment being revoked. What he finds, is simply much more devastating.

Rate: Explicit

Thorin's lost his memories. Bilbo's desperate to get one last taste. I apologize for the hurt, but also You're welcome for the rest!

#bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #bagginshield library #hurt/comfort #fanfic #the hobbit #sunday fic list

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

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Bilbo hadn’t really understood why the dwarves had hated the elf so much, but of course, Bofur had quietly told him of why they were so distrustful of her, but it wasn’t entirely personal, they’d distrusted all elves, even the ones in Rivendell. He’d become rather fond of her, but only because she was much more mannered and polite. She favored two daggers over the typical elven choice of a sword and bow, which Bilbo found odd, as he’d always heard stories about elves and their almost perfect skill with bows and swords. Even Lord Elrond of Rivendell carried a sword, which he had no doubt that the elven lord was lethal with it.

But while Bilbo had come to recognize that the dwarves were offensive fighters, she was defensive, and it’d taken quite a while for him to understand that any time there was danger, she was always next to him, keeping close so that nothing could hurt him. But he’d also seen her when she was sneaking behind enemies, watching as she’d taken down more than the dwarves who were in the thick of it.

The night had called, and Bilbo found himself unable to sleep, tossing and turning over the hard ground while the others snored around him. He lie there for as long as he could before he sat up with a quiet sigh, discontent flooding him as he threw the blanket off before rising from the bedroll. He assumed a short stroll might tire him out, not too far of course—the last thing he wanted was to end up like he’d been with the trolls.

As he neared the edge of the camp, his keen eyes saw a flash of silver in the low branches of a tree and he blinked, squinting at the figure sitting up there. It was their resident elf, still as the dead, watching over the camp and around them. It was a rather flustering amount of time before Bilbo realized she was staring right at him, and he felt his cheeks redden as embarrassment flooded his body. Still though, he walked over to stand somewhat beneath her, enough that he could crane his neck and look up at her.

“What are you doing up there?” he asked quietly, though he’d already known the answer.

“The better question is what are you doing awake?” she countered, and he shifted on his feet.

“I couldn’t sleep. I miss my bed,” he added, unable to hide his homesickness.

She nodded, turning to look out towards the land shadowed by the night. “Understandable. The ground is rather hard. Good for your back though, believe it or not.”

“I think I shall agree to disagree. I like my soft bed and fluffy pillows.”

She chuckled lowly and with a bit of grace, shifted and rolled off the branch, landing in front of him without so much as a noise. “You should try to sleep though, Bilbo. Our journey will only become much more difficult if you are exhausted.”

He felt shame creep up his neck, and he looked at his feet. “I…I’m sorry I’m not much help.” He was in fact not a help at all, always getting in the way, not even able to fight, not able to—

“Bilbo,” she calmed, kneeling down, and placing a hand on his shoulder; she looked at him with kind eyes. “I didn’t mean you would make the entire journey difficult. I meant your own experience would be uncomfortable because of your exhaustion.”

“Oh…” he said, feeling a bit foolish.

“While some of the others might think you a burden, rest assured that I do not, Bilbo, and I think you are wonderful company on this adventure.” She gestured for them to sit down against a rock, far enough from the dwarves that their talking wouldn’t disturb them, but close enough that she could see over them.

“Bilbo,” she started, gently wrapping an arm around him, pulling him close. “No one is expecting you to become some great warrior.”

He shifted around in her grip until he was as comfortable as he could be. “I know, but sometimes I feel like I am weighing us all down.”

“As you will, you’ve no prior experience in battle or on any type of business where it is this dangerous. But you’re learning, and that’s the most important thing. If you weren’t, then we would be considering shoving you in a barrel and floating you back up a stream to the Shire.”

He blinked, a smile on his lips as he laid his head against her side. “Where do you come from?”

She fell silent for a long while before she murmured, “I originally hail from Mirkwood.”

“The kingdom that Thorin’s family dealt with?”

“That would be the kingdom.”

“How did you end up here?” he asked, and she let out a long breath. The question was more than obvious. How did one of Erebor’s greatest enemies end up on the adventure to take back Erebor?

“I’m old, Bilbo. Very old. I’ve been on this earth longer than many of the elves around, save Elrond and Lady Galadriel.” She turned into him closer. “I was King Thranduil’s guard captain when Erebor was at its height of power. When Erebor fell to Smaug, we had marched to the carnage. Thranduil refused to help the dwarves.” She frowned. “Even in his grief, anger, and greed, we are still called to watch over Middle Earth. His refusal to assist innocents in their greatest peril went against my very purpose. I wasn’t going to stand for it.”

Bilbo listened to her, and asked softly, “What happened?”

“I abandoned my post. I refused to follow a king who wouldn’t put aside his pride in favor of helping a group of refuges who’d just lost literally everything they had. There is no honor in letting people die. Especially the innocent dwarves who had nothing to do with the issue between Thranduil and Thorin’s grandfather.”

“I can’t assume you left without a fight?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” she deadpanned. “For an entire week, I fled through the land from Erebor, chased by the very guards I trained. At every turn, I engaged in battle with my men and women. I was wounded beyond belief.”

He looked up at her. “Obviously you survived, but how? If you were so injured…?”

“I made it to Rivendell.” She met his gaze with a grin. “I am not even kidding, I was on the bridge at Rivendell, fighting for my life.”

“And?” Bilbo was practically on the edge of his seat.

“I made the mistake of going high when my enemy went low. The blow knocked me back into the staircase where I lay, ready to be beheaded, when Rivendell guards swarmed around me, raising weapons against the elves of Mirkwood.”

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Really. Lord Elrond appeared, a sword in his own hand and commanded they leave at once, or any further aggression would be considered an attack on Rivendell and his guards would respond with force.” She smiled. “I passed out, but when I came to, I was in a bed in Rivendell, Lord Elrond watching over me.”

“He seems a very wise elf.”

“Oh, he is. Very esteemed by us all, respected among everyone, even men, dwarf, and hobbit alike.” She breathed deeply. “He allowed me to recuperate and stay for some time before I left.”

“How long did you stay?”

“Fifty years.” She answered. “I fell into quite a depression over my lack of helping during Erebor’s fall. I felt at fault for not even trying to assist the dwarves.”

Bilbo started to blink slowly, eyelids beginning to droop. “Where did you go after?”

“Anywhere and everywhere away from Mirkwood. I became a bounty hunter. Honed my techniques and abilities.”

“Hmm…does…” he breathed deeply, trying to stay awake. “Does Thorin know?”

She looked down in shock. “What?”

“Thorin…does he know?”

“No, I do not believe so.”

Bilbo hummed again, curling up into her side. “Should tell him…may…forgive you.”

She simply watched as he fell asleep before picking him up, carrying him back towards his bedroll; as she put him down, she pulled his blanket up just under his chin and smiled sadly down at him—if only it was that simple.

As she carefully stepped between the sleeping dwarves, heading back towards the tree she’d been in, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. She paused, looking around at their sleeping faces, and when she shrugged, going back towards the tree, Thorin opened his eyes once more, gazing at her back as she did, imagining the weight of the world upon her shoulders just as his was then all those years ago, and now.

#thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader imagines #thorin oakenshield imagines #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin x reader #thorin x reader imagine #thorin x reader imagines #thorin imagines #thorin imagine #thorin #thorin oakenshield #bilbo #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #hobbit #king thranduil #thranduil

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conkers-thecosy · 9 months

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Bagginshield-tober / Day 4 / Company

Hey folks! Here's my offering for day four of the lovely @smolestboop's "Bagginshield-tober" prompt list 💛

You can also find these little snippets compiled into one fic on AO3

*Warnings for nightmares and light trauma symptoms.*

~*~*~

It took a lot to break the will of Thorin Oakenshield.

The madness of his grandfather had not broken him. The dragon and destruction of his home had not broken him. The years of wandering and starvation, and leading a grieving and desolate people had not broken him. Not even the death of his younger brother, nor the loss of his father had broken him.

Immovable. Headstrong. Unyielding.

His mother had often called him pig-headed, though with the love and fondness that came from one who knew it would be the source of great strength for him over the years. His sister had called him muleish, though with more exasperation than their mother ever had. Strong-willed, Balin had told him, kindly, and with great sadness before he had left to head back West with Bilbo.

Bilbo.

Nothing had ever swayed Thorin from a decision he had made, no one could talk him out of a course of action that he had become set upon. He would always plant his feet and stand firm, determined and unwavering in the face of all things… save for one small Hobbit.

“No… no, please… don’t…”

Sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and hands in his hair, Thorin could only listen to the quiet cries of his dearest friend and greatest love from the room next door. It was agony to feel so useless, to be so close, and yet unable to do anything. He had promised himself he would give Bilbo the space he needed to deal with his trauma, knowing full well it had come at Thorin’s own hands in the first place. He shook with the silent desperation of wanting to make this right, of needing to offer comfort, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

It might even make things worse, he tried to reason with himself, as another small whimper sliced through his already broken heart. For Bilbo to dream so fearfully of what had passed between them on top of the ramparts, Thorin deep in his madness, twisted by the lure of the Arkenstone. It would be cruel for him to awaken to the face of his aggressor, who so haunted his nights. He would wake soon, anyway. He always woke himself, then settled fairly quickly afterwards. All Thorin had to do was wait…

“Thorin!”

At the terrified cry of his own name, he could not help himself. He was on his feet and through Bilbo’s door before he even registered what he had done, and the Hobbit was awake, his eyes wide and fearful and hurt, and Thorin knew he had made a mistake, but he had been seen now, he was here, and what was he to do…?

“Thorin,” Bilbo said again, looking right at him with the fear melting away to be replaced by something akin to relief. His hair was a mess, sticking out wildly in all directions, his sheets rucked up, and one of his pillows had fallen to the floor beside his bed from where he had been shifting about so restlessly. Thorin saw all this, but it was eclipsed by Bilbo reaching out a small, shaking hand to him, and speaking with a tremor in his voice. “Please?”

Again, Thorin moved on impulse, unable to ignore such a plea. He walked quickly to Bilbo’s bedside and took the outstretched hand as gently as he could. Bilbo grasped him with both hands then, and pressed his knuckles to his forehead in an oddly reverent manner.

“You’re real,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re alive, and you’re here.”

“You… you feared me dead?”

Bilbo didn’t look at him, didn’t move even a muscle save from the trembling of his small frame. “I dream of it all the time. That I was too late to warn you on Ravenhill, that I stayed to argue with Gandalf instead of immediately coming to find you. I dream that… that Fili and Kili… that they died horrifically and senselessly, and that you… you were… on the ice, bleeding to death, and I could do nothing but hold your hand and watch. It… it feels so real, Thorin. I am so afraid that I will wake and it will all be real, and you won’t be here.”

Thorin could hardly believe what he was hearing, even as the words came tumbling out of the still shaking Hobbit like a shameful confession. He knelt, very slowly so as not to startle Bilbo, clasping his other, much larger hand over the two small ones still holding onto him tightly, as if afraid he would vanish otherwise.

He wanted to ask if Bilbo truly meant what he said, if it was not Thorin’s rage and threats at the gates that caused him to cry out in the darkness with fear, but he already knew the answer. Bilbo was not a liar, and even if he stretched the truth occasionally, there was no way even his quick tongue could have fabricated such sorrow and heartbreak in such a manner. It was so earnest and true, there could be no questioning the sincerity of his words.

All this time Thorin had stayed away, thinking his presence would only make things worse, when in fact proof of his life and continued existence was what would bring the Hobbit comfort most. He felt like a prize fool for not asking, simply asking, too stuck in his own guilt to offer what aid he could.

“I could stay, if you would like?” he offered quietly, then shrank back a little as Bilbo looked up in surprise. “Only if you would like me to. I could fetch a chair and sit by the bed until you fall asleep?”

“Oh,” said Bilbo, still wide eyed, though his face a little darker from the blush that would be staining his cheeks. “Well, I would feel terrible making you sit up so that I might rest…”

“We both know I’m not sleeping, anyway,” Thorin brushed this concern aside with a wry smile, immediately feeling better for acknowledging their shared troubles. “If you would like my company, I would be more than willing to stay.”

Bilbo fidgeted a little, then released Thorin’s hands slowly. For a moment the dwarf thought he was about to be told no, that he had misread the situation after all, and was perhaps over-stepping some kind of personal boundaries, until Bilbo scooted across the bed and patted the mattress beside himself in invitation.

“I’ll not have you in a chair all night, but perhaps we might both sleep a little better for some company?”

It took a lot to break the will of Thorin Oakenshield, but in this instance, he found no will to be broken - only a relieved acceptance, as he passed the night beside the one he loved, and they both found a little peace.

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bagginshieldtober #bagginshield-tober #cw: trauma mention #fluffy #hurt/comfort #co-sleeping #slice of life #reshirement #conkers-theficwriter #mild angst #stealing moments moments away

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middleearthpixie · 3 months

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Something in the Night ~ Chapter Ten

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory.

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it.

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.3k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Nina shared up at him with green eyes gone almost perfect round as she said, “I—I’m afraid I know not what you mean.”

“It took me a bit to figure it out,” he went on, “but you were there. That night my Company and I attempted to break into the armory and were caught. You were in the crowd, near the front, not far from where Bilbo stood.”

“No, I—I’ve never been to Esgaroth and I’m afraid I’ve no inkling as to who Bilbo even is.”

“Of course you don’t, for he was with me. But, I remember you, Miss Nina. You and another woman who bore a strong resemblance to you. You stood out, both of you, because of your hair.”

As he spoke, he reached out to catch one of Nina’s wild corkscrew curl between his fingers. He couldn’t help it. He’d never seen hair that deep, almost burgundy color before and since she first joined them, he tried to remember where he’d seen it before. It wasn't until he came into her chambers and saw it loose about her face that the memory of a beautiful red-haired woman in the snow leaped to the forefront of his mind, for that was just how she looked that night. Her hair a wild tangle about her face, about her shoulders, with snowflakes dotting it like seed pearls.

She shook her head. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

“No.” He let the curl slip through his fingers. It was soft, almost silken, and he had the maddest urge to gather it in his hands. “It was you.”

“Your Highness, I—”

“I know it was you, Nina. Tell me, what became of the woman who was with you? Who was she and what she to you?”

“She was my sister. She…” Nina’s eyes shone with tears as she met his gaze and his heart sank as she finished with a whispered, “she died in the inferno. I found her on the opposite shore the next morning and please do not make me tell you more about it.”

“I am so sorry,” he murmured back. “I did not mean for the dragon to take his anger out on your people. That was never my intention. It was the last thing I would have wanted.”

She pressed her lips together as her eyes overflowed, tears streaking over the curve of her cheeks. Without thinking, he brushed his thumbs along her cheeks, sweeping the tears from them. “Forgive me,” he whispered, cupping her face in his palms, tilting it toward his. “I know that means nothing, that my words are worthless, but I am so very sorry my actions led to the death of people you loved.”

Her lips trembled and she leaned into him, her head coming to rest against his chest as she dissolved into tears. He wrapped his arms about her, tucked her close against him and let her cry, his rough-hewn henley growing damp against his chest.

Finally, she went still against him and when she lifted her head, her eyes were red and puffy. “I beg your pardon,” she whispered, swiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “I didn't mean to blubber all over a king.”

“Worry not about it,” he told her. “It is the least I deserve.”

“I just…” She drew in a deep, if somewhat shaky breath, and then offered up a sad smile. “It’s been a while since I allowed myself to think of Lenna. She was my dearest friend in the world and I miss her. So very much.”

“If I could go back and do that night over,” he told her, sweeping his thumbs along the remnants of tears still streaking her skin, “I would do things so very differently. And in the aftermath, I’d have honored my word without question.”

This time, when he met her gaze, he felt the oddest thing. It was almost as if the air were suddenly charged, as it felt before a lightning storm. But he heard no rumble of thunder and as the leaves shifted above their heads, it was to show a clear night, the black sky spangled with thousands of stars glinting like gemstones against a bed of black velvet.

Her eyes were bright, brilliant emerald beneath their silvery veil of tears, but they drew him in just the same, and in a way he’d never felt before. That crackle in the air grew stronger and then he realized what it was.

He wanted to kiss her.

He remembered seeing her that night in Esgaroth. Her hair caught his eye, that deep, glossy burgundy color and wild about her face, as it was now. He could not hear her, but he saw her look at the woman beside her, her sister Lenna as he now knew, and when she smiled, he’d swear he actually felt his blood grow warmer. That smile, so pure and raw in its joy, did something to him and he made a promise to himself that he would find out who she was and when he rid the world of Smaug and returned to honor his word, he would make certain someone introduced him to her.

Of course, that wasn't how things worked out.

But now he had a second chance and he would not make the same mistake.

His thumbs went still against her soft skin. Her lips, full and no longer trembling, were more inviting than any he’d ever seen before. And when the tip of her tongue flicked out against her bottom lip, he almost sighed with the sensuality of it.

She held his gaze easily, and as he leaned toward her, she lifted those full, inviting lips in anticipation of their first kiss.

“Thorin, are ye in there?”

Dwalin’s voice broke them apart, had him leaping backward as if touching her stung him. Gathering his wits about him, Thorin cleared his throat. “We are, yes. Come in.”

The door swung open and Dwalin said, “I thought we were going to supper?”

“We are.” Thorin glanced over at Nina. “I just came to fetch Miss Nina.”

Dwalin arched a single brow. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” Thorin told him as he caught Nina by the elbow before she had the chance to refuse to join them. “Shall we?”

Fortunately, she did not speak up about not wanting anything to eat, and with any luck, no one would notice the hint of color along her sharply angled cheekbones, or that he’d probably not be able to stop staring at her.

All through supper, Nina felt Thorin’s gaze on her. Actually felt it. Although she’d heard people say this, she’d never experienced it for herself until now.

And if that wasn't enough, her doubts about her plan had grown tenfold since he stepped out onto her terrace.

He was going to kiss her. And what was worse?

She was going to let him.

What was wrong with her? How could she capitulate so easily?

Because he apologized.

And he meant it. She saw the agony he carried in his eyes, heard it in the softness of his deep, almost growly voice, felt it when he’d wrapped her in his arms. He wanted to take her pain from her and for a moment, his embrace had done just that.

She had heard of dragon sickness, as whenever talk of the Lonely Mountain circulated through town, accompanying it was the speculation that the King Under the Mountain had succumbed to it for a time. No one ever came out from it though. Or at least, that was what everyone said.

Yet, he had.

He sat beside her at the long table they shared with Thranduíl and his son Legolas. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lean toward Thranduíl, who sat, of course, at the head, as they chatted. Dwalin across from them, alongside Legolas and while he on joined in Thorin’s conversation with the elf king from time to time, he mostly spoke with the younger elf.

Nina, who knew none of them, remained quiet, concentrating on the delicious supper of venison and root vegetables in a spicy sauce. It was the most food she’d seen in her life, even more than had been presented at Rivendell.

She was in a quandary now. For so long, she’d thought of nothing but revenge on Thorin Oakenshield. She’d planned her life around it. She'd longed for the day when she took him out of the world and got paid a pretty penny to do so.

This was a twist she had not seen coming, and it left her at a loss.

The Thorin she had imagined was far different from the one she was coming to know. That Thorin was a monster in dwarf form.

This Thorin was anything but.

Conversation floated around her, yet their hosts paid her no mind. They didn't know her, of course, where they’d had dealings with the dwarves before and of course, Thorin and Thranduíl shared the bond of kingship, although their relationship seemed formal at best.

“So, how did you come to be in the company of dwarves?”

This came from across the table, from an elegant she-elf with red hair several shades brighter than Nina’s own. Tauriel, she thought her name was. She seemed to know Thorin and Dwalin already, judging by the warm greeting they’d each given the other when they first arrived in the open air dining room.

“Me? I simply happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“She leapt between me and an arrow,” Thorin broke in, setting his fork down to lift his napkin to his lips.

“Leapt between you and an arrow?” Tauriel’s dark eyes widened. “Where did this happen?”

“On the road to Rivendell,” Thorin explained. “An orc pack happened upon us.”

“An orc pack so close to Rivendell?” Thranduíl asked, his forehead furrowing slightly. “They do not normally come so close to either there or here.”

“Elrond said they’d been having a bit of trouble lately,” Dwalin explained, reaching for his tankard. “In their disarray, they have come bold.”

“They are no longer in such disarray.” Tauriel shook her head, bringing her napkin to her lips before adding, “The rumor is they are under new leadership.”

“Is that so?” Thorin asked. “Who?”

“I only know his name is Tarog and he is somehow related to Azog, but I know not how.”

Dwalin let out a heavy sigh. “Wonderful. One more thing for us to worry about.”

His gaze alit on Nina and she hoped no one at the table saw her stiffen. When she met his stare, it was to see his eyes were those cold slivers of ice once more. Forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile to her lips, she said, “You needn’t worry at all. Extra eyes and an extra blade, remember.”

“Aye, I remember,” Dwalin replied evenly.

“We will be fine,” Thorin said, reaching for his tankard. He lifted it for a long drink, then set it back and wiped his mouth before pushing away from the table. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I am going to go and get some much needed sleep. I bid you all good evening and will see you in the morning.”

Dwalin also rose. “I think that sounds like a good idea.” He looked over at her. “What about you, Miss Nina?”

Her impulse was to say no, that she wasn't tired, but she had the feeling that would arouse suspicion, so she forced a smile and got to her feet. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea. Good evening, Your Majesty,” she directed this at Thranduíl, then bid the others a good evening as well.

Dwalin fell into step with her as they left the dining room. “Why was Thorin in your chambers earlier?”

“You would have to ask him what prompted it,” she told him with a shrug. “For I haven’t a clue.”

“It’s a bit concerning, about this Tarog, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know one orc from another,” she replied as offhandedly as she could manage. “Just as I don't know who Azog is or was. My dealings with orcs are only when they cross paths with me. I do not go in search of them.”

“Still, it’s odd, that they grow bolder, supposedly have a new leader, and yet, you just happened to be where they were as well.”

She stopped then. “What is it you accuse me of, Dwalin? Of being in league with this Tarog, whoever he might be?”

“I am saying it is a strange coincidence, is all.”

She glanced at Thorin, far enough ahead of them that he apparently didn't notice the whispered confrontation going on behind him, then turned her attention back to Dwalin. “Tell me, do you think it odd that I am supposed to be in league with that filth, and yet you saw me cut down as many as I could?”

“I saw nothing of the sort, lass. I saw you just happen to be between Thorin and an orc arrow.”

She rolled her eyes as if he’d obviously lost his mind. “And yet, he lives still and there is no sign of any orc pack here, is there? You should stop being so blasted suspicious, you know this? I’m growing tired of being accused of playing you false when you have no reason to accuse me at all. Now, if you don't mind, I’ll bid you a good evening.”

She shoved by him and marched to her chambers, and much as she wanted to slam the door, she didn’t. Instead, she just closed it by, dropped the latch in place to lock it, and moved to the terrace once more.

The air was cold now, despite the fact that the earlier breeze had died. She sat on the wide railing, staring out into the dark forest, trying to calm her mind enough so that she might try to get some sleep.

Her plan was in shambles now. She could still feel Thorin’s massive hands against her cheeks, could feel how gentle his touch was as he swept the tears from her skin. She had the feeling his kiss would have been just as gentle. Gentle, but tinged with hints of fire. And had Dwalin not interrupted…

Dwalin.

He could prove to be a problem, though. He knew she wasn't as she presented herself, he just didn’t know how right he was to be concerned. At least, up until that night, anyway. Now, as she turned her gaze to her sword, still propped against the wall just inside the door, she had the feeling she would not be able to raise it against Thorin.

But he could never know the truth of why she was there, of how she came to be in his company, and why she offered her services to him.

With a low sigh, she let her head fall into her hands. How did it become so complicated? She had always thought that no matter how many times Thorin might apologize for that night, she would never forgive him. Her hatred of him and the anguish caused by what he had taken from her was simply too great.

So, why did she only want him to kiss her so badly?

She was tired, that was all. Tired and worn out and it had been a long time since anyone held her. Come morning, after a good night’s rest, her resolve would renew and things wouldn’t be quite as complicated as they seemed right then and there.

At least, she hoped they would’t.

It was amazing what a decent night’s sleep in a comfortable bed could do for a body. Her mind might still be a jumble of tangled thoughts, but as she lay there, atop a soft mattress, tucked between smooth, fresh linens, Nina could forget, if only for a moment, everything else.

A hint of jasmine hung in the air, wafted through on the light breeze that wound its way into her chambers. In the distance, birds chirped and the sunlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves was almost pure gold in its radiance.

She stared up at the woven vines and limbs that made up the vaulted ceiling in her chambers and she smiled as several birds flittered through to nestle in those branches. For a moment, she didn't care if she ever left Mirkwood. For a moment, everything was perfect.

She stretched, then snuggled back into the pillows, which were as soft as the linens. Thorin had made no mention of when he planned to depart, and she rather hoped they’d stay a few days to regain a bit of their energy.

That hope was dashed a moment later when there came a firm rap at the door. “Miss Nina?”

Thorin’s low voice sent a shiver through her, one that was equal parts delicious and disturbing. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

She sat up and tossed back the quilts, then got to her feet to pad over to the door. As she tugged it open, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him on the opposite side of the threshold, looking just as refreshed as she felt. “Did I wake you?” he asked.

“No. I was just being lazy.”

His eyes widened as they moved over her and she almost smiled. Her night rail was thin, but not immodest, although the pale blue ribbon holding the neck closed had loosened while she slept. Although the cotton parted, it did not show much more than just the beginning of her décolletage. Still, it was somewhat amusing, watching those pale blue eyes, fringed with such thick black lashes, widen, and seeing the hint of color that swept along his cheeks, above the dark hair of his beard.

When the silence stretched between them, this time she did smile. “Thorin?”

He started, then offered up a sheepish smile. “I beg your pardon, of course.” He cleared his throat. “I came to see if you were planning to come to breakfast.”

Her stomach rumbled on its own, and she smiled. “I don't suppose you would believe me if I tried to say no, would you?”

“Not likely, no.”

“Then, give me a moment to dress and I’ll be out.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

He didn't wait for her reply, but bobbed his head and left her to dress in peace.

It only took her a few minutes, since her meager wardrobe was little more than two changes of trousers and tops. Perhaps, if they would be there a few more days, she could sneak off to one of the streams and wash at least one change of clothes. The trousers had become conspicuously baggy.

So she dressed in the not-so-baggy (although a bit dirt-spattered) trousers and the cleaner of the two shirts, then swept her hair back into a loose knot and secured it as best she could, which took some doing, as she only had a tiny handful of pins.

Thorin waited for her, as he said, just beyond her door and she smiled. “You did not actually have to wait. I could find the dining hall.”

“I know but I dislike walking into a room alone. Especially here.”

“Why?”

They strolled along the walkway and he glanced down at her. “They stare.”

“Oh, no. Not that,” she drawled, nudging him with her shoulder. “How dare they.”

“I know, it sounds silly, but… My relationship with the woodland elves is rocky at best. Thranduíl and I are civil to one another, but there is no great love between dwarves and elves.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long and rather dull story, and one I’d rather not rehash, if it’s all the same.”

“I understand.” She stepped off to the edge of the walkway. “It’s so pretty here in spring, when everything begins to bloom. I’ve never been here before, and I had no idea what to expect.”

“The last time I was here was in autumn.” He joined her, resting both hands on the woven wood. “And it was anything but pretty. The air even seemed different. Dark and heavy.”

“I hear this place is enchanted.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. “It is, indeed. In some places, the enchantments are harmless, but in others? Dark magic is woven through them, so one has to take care.”

“Dark magic? Here?” She turned to him, her hip bumping against the rail. “Where?”

“One of the streams is said to be heavy with it, but I don't know which one. It’s best to assume they all are and avoid them. I know one is imbued with some sort of sleep magic. It knocked Bombur out cold.”

“You say that name as if I am to know who or what a Bombur is.”

That earned her a smile. “He is one of my people. We passed through here on our trek to Erebor.”

“And found out the hard way to avoid at least one stream. Why not just ask Thranduíl which ones to avoid?”

“At the time, he and I were not on speaking terms.”

“And yet he let you pass through his realm?”

To her surprise, a hint of color rose along his cheekbones. He shook his head, a sheepish smile coming to his lips. “Not exactly. We tried to get through unnoticed, but were attacked by spiders.”

A shiver rippled through her. “Spiders?”

“The size of houses, yes. The elves came to our aid, although I highly doubt that was intentional.” He linked his fingers, leaning on his forearms as he turned his gaze to the woods around them. “So, in the end we were not so much guests as we were prisoners.”

“Prisoners? One king to another?”

A dry laugh bubbled to his lips, one that was deep and low and although it contained no humor, it was hardly an unpleasant sound. And for the first time since they’d left Rivendell, he wasn’t dressed for the elements, but instead looked far more relaxed in trousers and a simple black rough-hewn henley. He’d pushed the sleeves up, stretching them about his thick forearms, and she had the strangest urge to trace along the muscle that ropes those forearms, to trace along the leather bracelet woven about his left wrist.

“I was a king in name only, remember. My kingdom belonged to a firedrake from the north named Smaug. So, no, it was not one king to another. We would probably still be in the dungeons, had Master Baggins not thought to swipe the keys or had he not come up with the idea of using wine barrels to escape.”

“Wine barrels?”

“It was quite the sight, I’m sure. All of us crammed into those barrels, bouncing down the rapids, at the will of the currents.” His smile faded. “Orcs found us here and Kíli was wounded in battle against them.”

“Kíli?”

“My nephew. My younger nephew, to be exact. He was struck by a morgul shaft.”

“What? Did it kill him?”

“It might have, had it not been for one of Mirkwood’s captains, Tauriel. She recognized the symptoms and knew what to do.”

“He was lucky she was there.”

“Indeed.”

She shifted, leaning on one elbow as she smiled up at him. “I cannot picture you riding in a barrel, though. Especially downriver.”

“Had I not been there, I’d agree with you. But that was how we escaped imprisonment. We paid Bard to smuggle us into Esgaroth and then—” He cut himself off abruptly, turning back toward the woods. “Well, you know the rest.”

“I do,” she moved closer to him, “but you can speak of it, if you wish. I always wondered how you managed to get into Esgaroth without the Master knowing.”

“The same barrels. Only Bard hid us beneath pounds upon pounds of fish.”

“Ew.” Her nose wrinkled at the image. “That must have smelled awful.”

“Awful is not the word for it. But, we survived.” He went quiet again, just staring off into the woods.

“Thorin?”

“What?”

“Were you lying at the time? When you promised to share the wealth of Erebor with us?”

He didn't say anything for a long time, but looked from the woods, to her, and back again as the silence stretched between them. Then, he drew in a deep breath, and exhaled in a long, slow sigh. “Yes.”

She thought as much but it still stung to hear him admit it. Before she could say anything, though, he went on. “I would have promised anything if it meant convincing the Master to aid us. My quest meant that much to me, to my people.”

He turned to her then, his eyes serious and dark, “But know this, it was never my intention to bring harm to anyone in Esgaroth. We tried to kill the beast ourselves. Tried to drown him in the gold he so coveted. But we failed and for that, I can never be sorry enough.”

She straightened up. “We should go to breakfast.”

“Nina,” he caught her by the arm as she pushed away from the railing, “you must know I mean every word.”

“I do, Thorin.” She looked up at him and nodded.

“Good. And I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me as well.”

“I’m not angry with you. I’ve made my peace with what happened that night and I’ve gone on. You should as well.” Without thinking, she reached up to lay her hand against his solid shoulder. “But, you should also be careful. There is still a bounty out on you, you know. It did not die with Azog.”

His eyes widened, then sharply narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

“I overhead two men discussing it at a tavern in Bree. Why do you think I offered my assistance to you?” She glanced down at the huge hand still on her arm, and then met his gaze once more. “I don't know why he hunted you, but someone will look to collect on it. From what I understand, he offered a substantial amount so…”

“So… you were there… in the clearing… intentionally?”

She nodded, although her heart sped up as she waited for him to ask which side she was on, protecting him or collecting on the price on his head. “I was. I tracked you from Dunning. I tend to blend with my surroundings when I wish to, and no one pays what they think is a boy any mind, so I could slip through crowds and the like with ease.”

But apparently the thought never crossed his mind, for all he said was, “You followed me?”

“I followed you. I thought about approaching you at the Grey Bear, but then had a bit of a to-do with the owner and by the time I freed myself from it, you were gone.”

“A to-do?”

She nodded. It almost frightened her, how easily the lies rolled from her tongue. At one point, she’d have burned with shame for lying on so grand a scale, but at the same time, she couldn’t very well tell him to truth, either. “He thought I was skipping out on my tab. I just wanted to catch up to you and offer my service and he didn't want to hear that, so…”

He smiled. “You are full of surprises, do you know that?”

“I have my moments, I suppose.”

A soft laugh bubbled to his lips, his eyes going from sapphire to cobalt once more. “I imagine you do, Nina.”

He said it softly, the air between them crackling with a mysterious electricity. The fingers on her arm tightened. He pulled her closer. He bent to her.

His lips were warm and soft as they captured hers, the coarse hair of his beard tickling against her skin. He released her arm to slip his about her waist, to the small of her back, and tightened to pull her flush against him. His body was every bit as solid as it appeared, heat rising from him to sink into her as his mouth moved slowly against hers.

One hand slid up, along her back, into her hair, where he dislodged several pins. Her eyes closed as he bent her back, his lips parting, the tip of his tongue brushed her lips and the sensation had her snapping open her eyes, and she abruptly pulled away from him.

Guilt twisted her insides at the confusion in his eyes. “Have I overstepped?” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “No, forget I asked that. Of course I’ve overstepped. And for that, I truly apologize.”

“Please don’t,” she told him, catching his hands in hers. “You didn’t overstep. But—”

She stopped, pressing her lips together. She’d been about to tell him the true reason why she was there, why she was in that clearing, but the words died on her lips. He would be furious and she would not fault him in the least.

And truly, the only thing she wanted was to fall into his arms, to lose herself in his kiss, to fall into his arms and lose herself in him. Forever, if that was even possible.

If only it was.

“But what?”

She drew in a deep breath. “But… it would be a mistake for either of us to let anything happen, for either of us to even think anything could happen. A terrible mistake.”

She braced herself for his anger, just as she had for any of the boys of Esgaroth who thought to try to steal a kiss from her, only to find her shoving them away from her. More often than not, the boy in question blamed her for not allowing him to take liberties, although she made herself perfectly clear what would happen if any did.

But there was no anger, just a sense of resignation about him as he slowly exhaled and nodded. “As you wish.”

“We should just go and get breakfast and pretend this never happened.”

“Again, as you wish.”

A heaviness settled about her. “On second thought, I’m not very hungry. Do go on though, and eat.”

“Nina—”

“Please. Just—just go.”

Darkness slid through his eyes. “Very well. Remember what I said about this place. Do not do anything foolish.”

“I will. You needn’t worry.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

With that, he turned and without another word, resumed his stride toward the dining hall. She stood there, rooted to her spot, and just watched him until he rounded a bend and she could no longer see him. Then, she turned back to the rail, bending to rest her forearms on it, just as he had only minutes earlier, and let her eyes close as her shoulders slumped.

How had this happened? It was all so simple. Find Thorin Oakenshield, end his life, collect the bounty from Tarog. That was it. That was all she had to do.

Curse it all, why had it gotten so blasted complicated?

Because he was not the monster she’d built him up to be in her mind. He was no more that monster than she was. He was actually the opposite—a fair-minded, competent leader who put his people before himself. He’d learned from his grievous mistake and was trying to do right.

He no longer deserved her anger, for he truly regretted what he’d done. She saw that for herself. Heard it for herself in his voice and his words.

So now what?

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Crying would solve nothing. It was a waste of time and energy and she had other things with which with to concern herself and a tryst with Thorin Oakenshield was not one of them.

There was still plenty of ground between Mirkwood and the Long Lake. She would do what she set out to do and be done with it. Then she would collect her money, find somewhere she hadn’t been before, and begin anew there.

But, even as she made her decision, she had the feeling she was about to make the worst mistake of her life.

#Richard Armitage #AU #The Hobbit #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield #Is it hot in here?#Hobbit Fic #Romance #Hobbit Fanfic #Thorin x OC #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction

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bagginshieldweek24 · 1 year

Text

Bagginshield Week is fast approaching!

We’re less than a week away from the beginning of Bagginshield Week 2023, keep reading to find out everything you may need to know and remember!

All kinds of platonic, romantic and sexual relationships between Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield are welcomed, included open relationships, so long as they are the focus. Likewise, all canons and headcanons are accepted!

All mediums are allowed, included mixed media, and there is no official minimum that your work must fill! Also, all ratings and warnings and such are accepted, so long as you tag accordingly!

Two prompts are given for each day of the event as well as two alternate prompt lists, and you can use as many of them, combine any of them as you wish, I only ask that you mention which ones you’re using in any specific work. You can also make as many works as you want/can.

You can post in any platform, but as the event mod, I will only be able to work with Tumblr and Archive of Our Own: for Tumblr you can make a post containing your work or a link to it, and you have to tag your posts #thilboweek23 so that I can find them more easily; for AO3, you can find the collection here https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bagginshield_week_23

You can post your works from June 4th to June 12th (the official event dates are June 4th to June 10th, plus two extra days).

The prompts are: Fairytale AU and Domestic for Day 1; Bilbo in Erebor and Piercings & Tattoos for Day 2; Pride & Prejudice AU and Blade/Sword for Day 3; Nautical/Pirate AU and The Moon/The Sun for Day 4; Ghibli AU and Hobbit Culture for Day 5; Erebor Never Fell and Flowers/Flower Language for Day 6; Everybody Live/Nobody Dies and Haunted House/Castle/Palace for Day 7.

The prompts for the Whump Alternate List are: Believed to be Dead; Nightmares/Hallucinations; Silence; Left Behind; Hidden Injury.

The prompts for the Regular Alternate List are: Courtship; Secret Relationship; Thorin is an Errant Smith; Meeting the Family; Enchantments/Spells.

If you need more specific information look here: https://www.tumblr.com/bagginshieldweek23/710619673617629184/bagginshield-week-2023-guideline-dates-prompts?source=share

Now, as for posting in Archive of Our Own, a word or two:

If you already have works ready and want to leave them to cool in drafts, ready to be posted on the day, for the moment, a friendly reminder to reset the date of it once said day comes! Otherwise it will be posted considering the date in which it was uploaded and will appear along with those stories, and might lose momentum, sort of speak. You can readjust the date of publication in the Associations section when you’re uploading/editing your work:

On the other hand, with the rise of AIs and, more importantly, with the “threat”, for lack of a better word, of your work being used by third parties through them, AO3 has given the general advice to private works, that is to make them accessible only to other signed users. If you wish to do so I have no issue, and you can set it up in the Privacy section in the uploading/editing page:

For those posting in other platforms, I can only ask you to tag accordingly, and to either make a promo post on Tumblr, or send me any links you wish to share through asks, and if you don’t use Tumblr but an acquaintance of yours does, they can send it in instead. As you may see if you’ve read the previous event post, I didn’t set up an email address nor a Discord server; I have my reasons for that, but hopefully this should be solve by the next event.

Other than that, I can only say that I cannot wait to see what any of you make, and to wish you best of lucks, Company!

#thilboweek23 #Bagginshield Week 2023 #Bagginshield #Bilbo Baggins #Thorin Oakenshield #fandom events #event announcement

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 7 months

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Mind Reading: Character A is involved in an incident and can suddenly hear the thoughts of people around them - but only when those people are thinking about Character A. That’s unfortunately bad news for Character B.

Still working my way through these! Only have about 2 more after this.

Thoughts of You

Ship: Bagginshield

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Words: 3052

Bilbo had been clinging to that barrel with all his might as the rapids raged around him, chilling him with its cold spray, threatening to drown him every time he dipped below the waves. Then a particular bump had his white knuckle grip loosening, and that was all it took to tip him under.

Bilbo desperately tried to claw his way to the surface, catching the briefest swallow of air before being tugged below once more. His lungs were burning, his body aching, and then his head struck a rock, and everything went blessedly dark.

Where is he?! Where is the hobbit?

That was Thorin’s voice…

Please, no. Please don’t be dead. Don’t take him from me, Mahal.

Why isn’t he awake yet? I want more. I want a future with him. Please, Bilbo, just wake up.

Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath. The first thing Bilbo was aware of was a pounding in his skull and a chill on his skin. He took another deep breath nearly coughing at how the cool air tickled his parched, burning throat.

Finally! Any longer and I would have feared for his mind.

“Bilbo! How are we doing, Master Hobbit?”

Bilbo worked on getting his eyelids to cooperate as he turned his head towards the sound of Oin’s voice.

“Water…” He croaked.

The healer poured him a cup, and gently held it to his lips.

It’s going to be a slow recovery for him, but this is a good first step.

Bilbo groaned, that’s all he needed. Thorin yelling at him about slowing them down once again. Although, there was something that seemed to linger in the back of his mind. Something like a fever dream that had to do with Thorin. He couldn’t ever seem to pin it down though, so he ignored it without another thought.

“I’m afraid you took quite the nasty bump to your head there, Master Hobbit. I would advise no more barrel riding for you.”

Bilbo would glare at him if he could.

I may hold off on allowing visitors to see him. At least not yet. But they’ll be happy to know our hobbit is recovering, especially him.

Bilbo nodded, thankful that Oin was willing to give him a moment of peace before the company descended upon him. It did make him glad to know they were worried about him though. Bilbo’s eyes were closing, sleep taking him again, not allowing him to linger on the fact that he never saw Oin move his mouth to tell him this.

When Bilbo next awoke, it was Dori who was keeping him company. The dwarf was just sitting in the corner, sewing on something, but he was talking to himself.

Poor little thing. His clothing is practically rags. Thankfully I was able to talk to that man about getting some old garments for him. Just a few little adjustments and it should fit. Bilbo has just lost so much weight. Not good for a hobbit.

On one hand, Bilbo appreciated Dori worrying after him. But on the other hand, why in the world couldn’t Dori keep that to himself! Bilbo didn’t want to think about his shamefully thin stomach right now.

“It’s not exactly easy to get seven full meals when you’re trying to hide from the elves.” He grumbled.

Dori perked up, his smile brightening at seeing Bilbo awake.

“You’re awake! I’m sorry, Master Baggins, were you saying something?”

Bilbo waved him away not deeming it worth repeating. Dori gave him a tender look and a nod.

Probably still having fever mumbles. I don’t blame him after being unconscious for almost two weeks.

“TWO WEEKS?!” Bilbo exclaimed, fighting to sit up despite his protesting body.

Dori dropped his sewing, quickly making his way to his side, fussing over him as he tried to get him to calm back down.

“No, please. I’m alright.” Bilbo assured when Dori threatened to get Oin. “Did you truly say ‘two weeks’? Have I been asleep for so long?”

Dori blinked in surprise as he shook his head.

“I didn’t say anything, Master Baggins. At least, I don’t think I did. But yes, we’ve been very concerned about you. You were floating in the water half-drowned when Thorin pulled you out. You seemed to have bumped your head best Oin could figure. About two days after that was when the fever set in.”

It was a lot of information to process. Bilbo had no idea he had been under the weather for so long.

“But the mountain, Durin’s Day?” Bilbo pressed.

Dori was quick to reassure him. “We’ve got time. Thorin managed to convince the Master of this town to give us lodgings and food in exchange for some of the gold we will recover. He’s a greedy, slimy sort, that Master, but at least it’s to our advantage this time.”

Bilbo nodded, forcing himself to relax back against the mattress once more. They had time. Thorin wasn’t going to leave him. Dori gave him a soft smile.

“I’ll just go get Oin then.”

And maybe Thorin. Our King certainly has been worse than a warg with a toothache over our hobbit.

“And just what do you mean by that?” Bilbo demanded.

Dori’s eyes widened. “Mean by what? Getting Oin?”

Bilbo hesitated wondering if he should press him before shaking his head with a ‘nevermind’. Dori gave him another pitying look before disappearing through the door. Bilbo lay there staring at the ceiling. Just what was going on? Was he imagining hearing Dori’s voice without seeing his mouth move? Was it just wishful thinking? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities considering how much he has come to admire Thorin. Convincing himself he imagined it, Bilbo drifted into a short sleep before Oin returned.

Bilbo made sure to watch the healer’s mouth closely, but nothing strange happened. Oin told him about what he was giving him and telling him how much he had improved before promising to send some soup up later. Bilbo was quite certain at that point that whatever had happened with Dori was some sort of remainder of the fever when Thorin walked in.

“Master Baggins.” Thorin nodded his head, his ever present smirk on his face. “I had heard you were back present with us once more.”

Bilbo had a witty remark sitting on the tip of his tongue when he heard Thorin’s voice in his head.

I’ve been so worried about him. It’s good to see him awake again. To see him smile. To see those beautiful doe eyes.

Bilbo’s jaw dropped, and a frown formed on Thorin’s face.

“Is everything okay, Master Baggins?”

Please don’t let him be suffering any long term damage. It would kill him for his mind to not be as sharp as it once was.

“No, I’m okay. Really, no damage to be found. I think.” Bilbo assured.

A tension was released from Thorin’s shoulders as his smile returned.

“I am relieved to hear it. Oin says your recovery should progress quickly from here. That’s good. I would hate to be without our Burglar for the last leg of our quest.”

I would hate to be without him for even a day at this point.

Bilbo felt his cheeks begin to burn, unable to believe what he was hearing. Or thinking? It didn’t feel like a fantasy of his own creation. After all, he had never imagined Thorin to be so downright…romantic.

“You’re red.” Thorin pointed out, leaning in to feel his face. “Is your fever returning?”

Bilbo shied away, trying to ignore Thorin’s voice in his head lamenting his hurt.

“I’m fine. Honest. Just a bit…too much excitement for one day I think.”

“All the same, I think I should get Oin again.” Thorin stated, getting to his feet.

“Thorin!” Bilbo called out before the dwarf could depart completely. “Umm…thank you. For checking on me.”

A bright, breathtaking grin spread across Thorin’s face, lighting his sky blue eyes as he gave Bilbo a single nod.

Of course, sanâzyungê (my perfect love). I love you.

Luckily, Thorin had disappeared before Bilbo could choke on the breath he took. His heart pounded in his chest, his whole body feeling like he was on fire. Perhaps, this was a fever dream. Perhaps he was still asleep, sicker than the gaffer on homebrew. Or perhaps he really could hear other people’s thoughts. A laugh bubbled out of him at the sheer notion. Somehow the ability to hear thoughts was more believable to him than Thorin saying that he loved him. Yet, it was a notion that Bilbo held very closely and carefully to his heart. A notion he named hope. He was going to have to find out for sure before he let it fly him away on the wings of belief.

When Bofur came to visit next, Bilbo decided to try out his new powers on him.

“Bofur, I need you to think of something, anything at all, but don’t say it out loud.”

Bofur gave him an odd look, but agreed readily enough. Bilbo waited to hear Bofur’s voice in his head, but nothing happened. Bilbo slumped against his pillows in defeat. Great, he had just imagined the whole thing. Of course he did. Thorin wouldn’t actually be in love with him. Why would he?

“Everything alright there, Bilbo?”

“Yeah.” Bilbo sighed. “Just…well, it doesn’t really matter now. Please tell me how everyone fares.”

Bofur eagerly regaled him with gossip and humorous anecdotes from the last couple of weeks. Bilbo could see from the dark circles under his eyes that it wasn’t all fun and games for the Company, but he did appreciate Bofur trying to make it like he hadn’t missed much.

“Thank you, my friend.” Bilbo stated when he finished. “I’ve been in here for so long, I fear I’m about to lose my mind.”

“What do you mean?” Bofur asked, concern knitting his brows together.

“Oh.” Bilbo laughed. “It’s nothing at all. I had…a fever dream of sorts where I was convinced I could read Thorin’s mind. But the content…well, let’s just say it was most certainly a dream.”

Damn, was Thorin declaring his undying love for Bilbo while he was asleep or something?

“That sounds like a scary place to be. Don’t fancy knowing what thoughts sit in our king’s head to make him all serious and brooding.” Bofur teased at the same time his thoughts filtered through Bilbo’s head.

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “Say something else about Thorin!” He demanded.

Bofur gave him a weird look. “Like what?”

Bilbo waited, but he couldn’t hear any thoughts. So maybe Thorin wasn’t the trigger like he thought. But what else did everyone’s thoughts have in common except…

“Bofur, what do you think of me?”

“Bilbo, I…”

“Please?”

“Alright, you’re brave…fussy…clever…complains a lot…witty…too bright for his own good…but mostly, you’re a good friend.”

Bilbo could hear the last one echoed in Bofur’s thoughts, but he was far too flabbergasted and just generally annoyed to be touched.

“Thank you, Bofur. I think I’d like to be alone now.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure thing, Bilbo. Are you sure…?”

“Yes, thank you for your visit.”

Bofur gave him a pat on the shoulder before exiting the room. Bilbo leaned back against his pillows. He could hear people’s thoughts as long as they were about him. What a pointless power. Well, unless it was to spy on a certain dwarf king and his obvious infatuation. At least obvious to everyone who wasn’t Bilbo. And Bofur helped confirm for Bilbo that it can’t be something he was making up. He would never admit even to himself that he was fussy or too smart for his own good. What nonsense. He supposed he had been known for complaining at the beginning of the quest, but he certainly has been much better lately.

A small smile spread across Bilbo’s face as one thought seemed to creep in his mind and root itself firmly. That meant Thorin really did love him. Thorin Oakenshield loved him, Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to run out of this stupid bed and kiss that dwarf silly. This feeling welling up in him was better than any concoction Oin could make him. In fact he felt like confessing. He should! He should get some flowers and…did dwarves court with flowers?

No, he couldn’t rush this. He needed to do this correctly. First, he would figure out how to court a dwarf, and then he would confess to Thorin. After all, it would be better for him to know before they faced a fire-breathing dragon, wouldn’t it? He would just have to be strategic about it. He couldn’t let the Company know what he was up to. He wasn’t ready for the teasing that would most certainly come from it. Luckily for him, he now had a way to find out without directly asking. He was just going to have to be strategic about how he asked and who he talked to. Wasn’t Kili infatuated with one of the elven guards? He wondered how the young dwarf felt about visiting him…

***

Bilbo walked alongside Thorin on their way to meet with the Master. In the past couple of days, Bilbo had made a full recovery with the exception of still being able to hear other people’s thoughts. However, he credits that to speeding up his desire to heal when Thorin and Balin started mentally expressing concerns about having to leave Bilbo behind. So he hid his cough and forced himself out of bed, not about to miss out on the remainder of this quest. And if Bilbo was feeling a little breathless on their way to negotiate for weapons and passage across the lake, he was certainly not going to let Thorin know. Not when his thoughts were already swirling over worries he had with Bilbo as it was.

Perhaps that’s why he missed it. He was too focused on the wooden bead he carved with Bofur’s knife in his pocket, listening to the poetry Thorin was waxing in his head. He wasn’t focused on anyone else in Laketown. Anyone who might wish them harm until it was almost too late.

I’ll take out the Halfling first. May even use him as a hostage. Then the guys will jump the dwarf while he’s distracted over his little friend.

“Thorin!” Bilbo warned, looking around wildly.

“Bilbo?” Thorin questioned.

What’s wrong with him? Is he in danger?

Bilbo finally was able to find the man charging straight at him, and pushed Thorin out of the way of his fist just in time. The man must have switched up his tactic at the last minute.

Stupid Halfling!

The man sneered before coming after Bilbo. Bilbo started backing up wishing that he had thought to wear Sting. The other two thugs that were with this guy were occupied with Thorin whose thoughts were screaming for Bilbo.

“What do you want?” Bilbo demanded.

The man finally managed to wrap his hand around Bilbo’s front, yanking the hobbit clear off his feet. He scrambled, clawing at the man’s hand as he shook him trying to get Bilbo to stop.

“I want the key. The key to Thror’s hold. I know that dwarf must have it, and you’re going to help me get it.”

“I most certainly am not.” Bilbo declared before kicking him hard between the legs.

The man howled as he threw Bilbo. The hobbit didn’t have much time to brace himself as his poor abused skull bounced off the boards below. For a moment, Bilbo just lay there trying to adjust for the ringing in his ears. He was pretty sure he heard Thorin roar his name, but he couldn’t be certain. Something was off.

“Bilbo! Bilbo? Are you okay? Say something, please!”

Bilbo blinked up at Thorin cradling ever so gently.

Don’t…hurt…can’t…again.

“Thorin? I can’t…I don’t understand.” Bilbo furrowed his brows.

“I dealt with those three.” Thorin growled, his gaze fierce. “The guards came quickly after. I hope that’s a lesson to any who thought they could try that again.”

“Yes, but…”

Bilbo didn’t know how to explain it. Everything was fuzzy in his head. He couldn’t hear him as well as normal. Thorin’s eyes softened as he ran his hand over the back of Bilbo’s head, causing Bilbo to wince.

“We’re going to have to get you a helm to protect your soft head at this rate, Master Baggins.”

My…poor…brave…hobbit.

Bilbo was able to at least hear the full thought that time even if it did still seem like it was struggling to be heard. Perhaps it was a fleeting power. Perhaps since a bump on the head was what gave him this power, a bump on the head would cause him to lose it. It didn’t matter to Bilbo either way. All it did was solidify for him that the lovely words he had gotten used to hearing from Thorin were temporary unless he did something about it.

Bilbo reached into his pocket, best as he could with Thorin’s grip around him to reveal the wooden bead. An oak tree decorated one side as a tribute to Thorin, and Erebor with the door to Bag End in front of it stood on the other as a reminder of home. Thorin took the bead, his hand shaking slightly.

He…doesn’t…know…what…he…gives.

“Bilbo…”

“I wish to court you.” Bilbo interrupted, making his intentions clear. “I asked about your customs, and crafted a bead to braid in your hair. I had meant to ask in better conditions than this, but given the circumstances…”

Thorin gave him a quick grin, but his eyes still remained in wonder. He slowly accepted the bead, admiring the craftsmanship. His thoughts were in a constant state of disbelief though. At least Bilbo’s head had stopped spinning enough that he was able to push himself up into a sitting position. Having full confidence in the answer, he gave Thorin a wry grin as he closed his hand over the bead.

“Well, will you have me?”

Thorin pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s own. His shoulders sagging as if releasing a great weight. His thoughts echoed by the very words he spoke aloud. Finally aloud.

“Of course, amrâlimê (my love). I accept your court gladly.”

#tropetember #the hobbit #bagginshield #mind reading #sickfic

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fanficwriting1 · 2 months

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A Tale of Smoke and Flame Chapter 4

Bilbo did not mind the rain, he found it quite enjoyable. But he found that his dwarven companions minded the rain very much from their grumblings and curses.

He found himself walking next to the group, his stick leaving muddy indents in the road. Minty - the horse that had been prepared for him to ride - had taken one look at him and had outright objected to his riding her, riling up whenever he reached for his reins.

It was not unusual for him, many creatures inherently feared him for what he truly was, despite any intentions he might have. Perhaps it was good that he was traveling with dwarrow - they often struggled to see past appearances, and found it difficult to feel that inherent feeling of danger that could easily come by being near him.

“Is it not tiring to only be on your feet, Mr. Boggins?” Kili had pulled his horse closer to Bilbo so he was walking next to him.

“Not at all. Hobbits take walking holidays often, Master Kili. We find it much preferable to riding. We have the feet for it as well, they’re able to withstand nearly anything.”

“Do many of your kind travel?”

Thorin’s question caught Bilbo off guard, as well as the majority of the company. Thorin, who had apparently no interest in the topic, had suddenly taken an interest.

“Quite a few.” Bilbo replied. “It tends to be the hobbits on the Took side, but there are the occasional others.”

Thorin nodded..

“And what of your lifespans?” came another question from an unexpected party. Dwaln’s face was stoic as he asked.

“Typically around 100 years, although Gerontious Took is getting up there. I dare say he may beat everyone else in age.”

He received a grunt in response from Dwalin.

The rain seemed to come down harder after that, slamming into the company with all it had.

“Gandalf, can’t you do anything about this deluge?” Gloin asked.

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to do so until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

“What’s the point of having a wizard if he can’t do anything about this blasted weather?” Gloin grumbled.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow at Gloin, and Gloin turned quickly back to his business.

—

They set up camp near a ruined farmhouse. The site was familiar to both Gandalf and Bilbo.

He could smell the beasts in the air. Old and musty, he waited as he heard crashing from the foliage to his right, Fili and Kili crashing through the trees. If they had any intention to disguise their coming, they had failed horribly.

“Trolls!” Kili shouted, bursting into camp. “Me and Fili found trolls!”

The camp immediately became full of the dwarrow drawing their weapons, questions about where the trolls were and how many, and if they knew they were there.

“They’re not alive.” Fili said.

The group of dwarrow stopped, surprised.

Thorin pushed to the front. “What do you mean?”

Fili gestured for the group to follow him, and led them all to a campsite that had long been abandoned, and was surrounded by three large trolls. The trees surrounding the trolls had been burned to a crisp, black and cracked. “Minty had wandered off from the group and Kili went to grab her.” Fili explained. “When he found her she was in this area.”

“It looks like there was a fire out of control.” Balin remarked, lightly touching the trees. “Strange that it only burned within a specific area. It must have been contained quickly.”

“How do you think they turned to stone?” Ori asked.

“Stayed out too long,” Dori said, giving a meaningful glance toward Ori. “Bad things happen when you stay out too long.”

A comment obviously made for another purpose, Bilbo watched as Nori jumped it. “It isn’t always a bad thing to stay out so late - I’m sure they had fun.”

“Fun doesn’t prevent the consequences.” Dori seethed, glaring at Nori.

As Nori puffed to make another remark, Bilbo spoke up.

“The Bounders handled these trolls. They found them a few years ago when travelers on this road kept going missing.”

The dwarrows attention immediately moved to him as he spoke.

“Bounders?” Fili asked.

“They are the closest thing hobbits have to a military power. Their main duty is to protect the safety of the Shire. These trolls had gotten far too close for comfort and had already taken some hobbits. That led to the Bounders searching for the lost hobbits and stumbling across the trolls.”

The dwarrow looked at Bilbo with new eyes, while Bilbo looked at the statues of the trolls. While he couldn’t tell the dwarrow what truly had occurred with the trolls, he did not only speak lies.

Gandalf placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Bilbo gave him a grateful nod.

“How often do your Bounders go out to look for people?” Thorin asked. “Do they go far in their searches?”

“When searching for a hobbit, no expense is spared,” Bilbo said. He had a feeling he knew why Thorin and Dwalin seemed so interested in learning about hobbit traveling habits. Still, Bilbo had no intention of revealing the answers they wanted - it would only serve to make matters more complicated than was needed.

—

He shifted uncomfortably back at camp. Although the trolls had been taken care of years ago, Bilbo still had some foreboding sense about staying the night in such an area. Gandalf seemed to have the same feeling and had taken to warn Thorin.

“I would not stay here if I were you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“We go no further. The company is weary and this is a satisfactory place to rest.”

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley.”

Thorin’s face automatically soured. “I have told you already, I will not go near that place.”

“Why not? The elves could help us! We could get food, rest, advice.”

“I do not need their advice.” Thorin spat, turning away from Gandalf.

Gandalf huffed before stepping away from Thorin and going towards Bilbo.

“I’m afraid I must step away to find my reason once more, dear Bilbo.” he shook his head. “I’m afraid you and I are the only ones in this company with any semblance of sense.”

Bilbo laughed. “I fear you are right. For all the senses the dwarrow have, they seem to lack one for future danger.”

Gandalf nodded solemnly. “Watch them while I’m away. Though I leave shortly, I do worry that something shall occur.”

Bilbo nodded. “I feel the same. I shall watch over the group to the best of my ability - they do have the only way into the Lonely Mountain, after all.”

Nodding once more, Gandalf left, distracted.

“What was that about?” Ori came to stand by Bilbo. “Where’s he off to?”

“To gather his wits, Master Ori. He shall be back soon enough.”

—

Bofur and Bilbo had been placed on first watch that night. The air was cool and soft against the skin, while the air was full of the quiet sway of the trees and movement and chirps of creatures unseen.

Bilbo paused. A strange scent permeated the air, slightly bitter and pungent, accompanied by cold fog that slithered into the camp.

He growled as the fires extinguished itself, the last curls of smoke wisping away.

“How strange.” Bofur remarked, rising to stir the fire back to life. Bilbo stopped him, ears twitching.

He did not like this. If it was what he thought it was . . .

A cold presence entered his mind and Bilbo hissed. The wights should not have been able to travel here, constrained as they were.

“Bilbo?”

“Wake the dwarrow.”

“What?”

“Wake the dwarrow! To your feet!” he shouted, grabbing his blades. “Move!”

The dwarrow scrambled for their weapons, eyes bleary and searching for their enemies.

Stillness hung in the air and the dwarrow looked at one another, confused by the lack of enemies.

“What is the meaning of this, burglar?” Thorin growled, weapons loose in his hands. “You’ve awoken us for some fog?” anger was barely constrained in his voice, amplified by Bilbo’s look of distraction.

“Back to your bedrolls!” Thorin snarled and stalked towards Bilbo.

“The wights will soon be upon us,” Bilbo said.

“The wights? You woke the company for some hobbit lore?” Thorin scoffed. “Everyone! Back to your rolls!” he glared at Bilbo, walking over to him. “I do not know what amusement you derive from depriving my company of their rest, but if you do it once more, I shall have you take leave of this company and find your way back to your home.”

Bilbo frowned. “Master Oakenshield, if you wish for your entire company to perish tonight, let them sleep.”

“What is Mahal’s beard is that?” cried Bombur.

The dwarrow turned towards the trees and watched as figures emerged.

“Those, Master Bombur, are Barrow Wights.”

#bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #bilbo baggins #a03 writer #a03 fanfic #dragon!bilbo #bamf bilbo baggins #the hobbit fanfiction

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tinytiger · 2 months

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The Hobbit- A Kili x F!Reader Fanfic

The Unexpected Party

Masterlist

In the heart of Middle-earth, (Y/N), daughter of an elven king and a dwarf embarks on a quest to reclaim her heritage. Joining Thorin Oakenshield's company, she finds herself drawn to Kili, a dwarf prince. As they journey towards Erebor, (Y/N) confronts the challenges of her mixed bloodline and discovers the true meaning of family. Amidst laughter and camaraderie, she uncovers secrets buried within the mountain and embraces her role as a beacon of hope in the darkness.

Words- 3594 x

The arrow hit its target.

“Yes!” a h/c hair elf cheered, only she wasn’t an elf she had dwarf blood in her too. Most of her was dwarf, she would live as long as them, and she would be as tall as a normal she-dwarf, but she had elf ears, could speak fluent elvenish and could use elven healing, which she only used on herself and her father.

Sighing, she began to walk back to where she had tied up her pony. She thought back to yesterday when her dream had been turned away from her just because of her protective father.

*Flashback*

As Y/n dusted the wood shavings off of her apron she began humming a song she remembered her mother sung to her back when she was alive. Of course, she remembered her real mother and father, but they never came to get her back. News that the young elf princess had been missing travelled fast across Middle Earth, but no one connected it to Y/n. As she walked out of her room to place the arrow she had just finished making with her stuff outside she heard Bilbo’s raised voice echo through the door that had been painted only a week ago.

“There will be no adventures around here! Thank you and-“

Y/n stuck her head out of the door and her eyes met the dazzling colour that belonged to a wizard she knew quite well.

“Adventure?” she asked completely stepping out of the door and standing next to her father, her beautiful eyes glinting as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Why, Ms Y/n. Yes I do believe you two would be perfect for the vacancies!” exclaimed Gandalf as he chuckled at the whooping young lady in front of her.

“Yes, I would love to go, when, where, what are we doing? Is there the option I might die? it sounds like I’m in!” Y/n cheered running up to where she hid the bow and sword from Bilbo, who in surprise and shock thought that those two things were in the bottom of his drawers Y/n was never allowed to touch.

“No way on Middle Earth are you going on this adventure!” Bilbo shouted as she jumped over the wall of his front garden. Y/n’s head shot up as looked at him with utter disappointment.

“But Father I-“

“Don’t you dare ‘but father’ me young lady, we talked about this. I hid that from you for a reason.” Gandalf looked at the two and smiled.

“I’m sorry Gandalf, but I will not allow you to infect her mind with ideas of this adventure you speak of. Come over for tea, tomorrow. Yes come over tomorrow and don’t talk about adventure with my daughter. Umm, good day!”

And with that, he closed the door swiftly but not to seem rude, after all, wizards were wizards.

He sighed, Y/n was in the kitchen. Her shoulders slumped.

Bilbo sighed again, he hated arguing with her, and she always won.

“When did you take the swords and bow from my draws?” he asked as he sat at the table drinking his cup of tea.

Y/n chuckled and said with a smile adorning on her face, “ When you came back from Mister Gamgees about 7 years ago. You were a bit on the booze, so I saw the opportunity and dashed into your drawing room. They have been hidden in the bush outside, in a case I bought.”

She had fully turned around her green dress waving around her feet like the sea.

Bilbo laughed and pushed a cup of tea towards her, the two spent the night playing cards until the moon was high in the sky.

*End of Flashback*

Y/n noticed how dark it was and quickly got on her black pony Stumpy and quickly rode home. Bilbo had told her to be back before it got dark for tea. She was doing this to hope that Bilbo would let her go on the adventure of her lifetime.

When she arrived at the hobbit's house, she quickly tied up Stumpy. She pushed the door open, and a sight met her eyes she would never forget:

Four dwarves were pushing and pulling on a table that wouldn’t go through a door, Bilbo was trying to stop them and as soon as she walked through the door all five heads turned to see her. Y/n chuckled, hung up her cloak, unbuckled the sword hustler from her waists that held only her to daggers and placed her weapons on a chair to her left. She looked back at the dwarves and saw two young ones and two old ones.

“Ummm. Who is the lass?” one said. He had a shaved head and tattoos all over his muscular arms.

“This is Y/n, my adopted daughter,” Bilbo said as he wiped the sweat from his eyebrows.

Suddenly all four dwarves dropped the table and stood in a line to greet her. First, a dwarf who had white hair and his name was Balin, then a blonde dwarf with a beard who was called Fili, then came the one who asked you who she was, and his name was Dwalin, then finally a very handsome dwarf kissed her hand and winked at her.

He had brown curly hair which fell down to his shoulder and brown eyes that sparkled, he unlike his brother Fili, had only some small stubble. His name was Kili. Blushing, she went to help Bilbo get the table of his foot.

“Why, on middle earth are there four dwarves here? She hissed to Bilbo. He quite loudly whispered back to her glaring at them.

“No clue.” Y/n quickly went to her room and pulled her hair over her ears.

Dwarves and Elves never had a good relationship, and she had the idea they knew a lot more about her than she would like.

When she left her room, she was met by a lot more dwarves than there were originally. Then Y/n stopped as she saw Gandalf talking to a dwarf with a grey beard and holding a tray.

She stomped over and asked, “Gandalf who are these…. dwarves.”

Trying not to sound too rude she didn’t want to call them a name she would regret.

“My dear Y/n these are the dwarves of Erebor, we have Dwalin, Balin, Kili, Fili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur. We are one short though.” Gandalf said pointing at each dwarf at the sound names then sighing.

“He went to see our kin, in the iron hills. He will be here soon.” Dwalin said leaning against the doorway.

Y/n walked over to the table and sat down between Kili and Bofur. Then Fili walked onto the table passing everyone a beer and stopping at her. She raised an eyebrow and took the mug out of his hands.

She slushed the beer around in its mug. Y/n had had this beer before, and she liked it. Looking up she saw every dwarf looking at her with now wet beards as they had all downed their beers.

“Come, lass,” Bofur said slapping her on the back. Then Y/n spotted Bilbo looking at her shaking his head at her. She smirked at him shrugging her shoulders she knocked her head back as she downed the beer.

Not spilling a drop.

When she placed the mug back down, she looked around at the dwarves, mouths open, very wide. Bilbo huffed and threw his arms in the air. Then she felt an arm go around her shoulders, she looked up to meet chocolate brown eyes. She felt her face warm up, then she moved backwards.

Only to fall into Bofur, who moved backwards, making Y/n fall off the table and bagging her head. A burst of laughter erupted from the room. Then Kili wrapped his arms under Y/n and pulled her up to sit next to him.

“So, lass, what’s a young girl like you doing slushing down beer like a dwarven maiden,” Balin said. Y/n felt her heart drop.

“I’m part dwarf and-,” Y/n said staring at her mug.

“An elf?” Balin said as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Y/n looked up and the dwarfs were all smiling.

“Lass, don’t worry your head, we know what you are!” Dwalin said smacking her in the back.

“You do!” She expressed.

To her left Kili put his arm around her and smiled.

“Of course, many dwarves have fallen for elves before!” Kili winked at the group as Y/n’s face grew hot. She stood up and went to find Bilbo. He was not enjoying the company as much as she was. He was whisper-shouting at Gandalf.

“And I don’t even want to mention what they have done in the toilet.” Y/n giggled as she walked up to Bilbo and said, “I think they are lovely, and maybe they could tell me a bit about my mother.”

Then Ori came over to them and asked.

“I am sorry to interrupt but where shall I put my plate?” Y/n opened her mouth to speak but then Fili said.

”Here Ori give it here.” Then he threw it over his head towards Kili who caught it and then threw it back into the kitchen.

“Hey, I need my head,” Y/n said as the second plate narrowly missed her if she hadn’t ducked. Then Biblo ran back into the kitchen where the table had been placed Y/n heard Kili sing:

Blunt the knives, bend the forks

Y/n looked up at him and smiled then Fili sang.

Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

Chip the glasses and crack the plates.

The rest of the dwarves joined in

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

Laughing Y/n joined in ducking at the odd plate or so. Then Kili jumped next to her and started to spin her around. Her h/c hair followed behind her.

Cut the cloth, tread on the fat.

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat.

Pour the milk on the pantry floor.

Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowls.

Pound them up with a thumping pole

When you're finished if they are whole

Send them down the hall to roll.

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

After what felt like hours of dancing and ducking, Y/n finally stopped next to Kili, who had a little pipe in his hand. All the dwarves were laughing, and Y/n was chuckling earning a look from Bilbo.

Then a loud harsh knock Bilbo rushed to get it and Y/n followed after Gandalf said hoarsely

“He is here”.

In front of Y/n and Bilbo was a handsome dwarf who had deep blue eyes, Y/n had recognised him and by the looks of it, so did he.

Then he walked in through the door and mumbled something about getting lost twice, but Y/n didn’t hear.

She was too busy trying to remember where she had seen him before when something Gandalf had said brought her out of her trance.

“This is Bilbo and Y/n is the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Y/n looked up and gasped.

She remembered something, her mother.

On her birthday, her best friend Dis visited she showed the two a picture of her sons and brother, Thorin was the brother. Then Thorin looked at Biblo, not noticing the girl standing to his left. He did not look impressed,

“What is your weapon of choice axe or sword?” Y/n mentally face palmed herself when she heard the words coming out of Bilbo’s mouth.

“I am quite skilled at conkers if you must not, but I see no reason on how that is at all relevant.” Sighing Thorin looked at Gandalf and said, “Are we making any more stops, I said to find the 14th and 15th members of the company. I only see one.”

Y/n stepped out of the dark corner she slunked herself into.

“Good to see you to Thorin.” Thorin then spun around to see a spitting image of his sister’s best friend standing in front of him.

“There Thorin is our 15th member,” Gandalf said pointing to Gwen. She smirked but then it dropped when Fili opened his mouth and spoke.

“But Gandalf she is a girl, I bet she can’t even defend herself.” With a flash, Y/n pulled a dagger out of her pocket and threw it at Fili, narrowly missing his face but cutting off some of his beard and ramming into the wall behind him. Bilbo gasped and the rest of the company chuckled.

“You’re Namath’s daughter aren’t you,” Thorin said as he walked over to the kitchen table, nodding his head to his kin.

“Yes, I am,” Y/n said following him and making him a plate of food.

Thorin chuckled as he sat down. Then the rest of the company joined him. Y/n stood at the corner of the table until Kili beckoned her over. Y/n walked over and squatted beside him.

“How do you know my uncle?” He said looking down at her, his eyes counting each freckle on her nose.

“He knew my mother,” Y/n said standing up again after her thighs started to hurt her. She began to walk away but then Kili grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit next to him and Fili. Then Y/n lent towards Fili and said,

“Sorry about earlier, I just hate it when people say stuff like that.” Fili chuckled and said back

“It's fine, you can defend yourself.”

Y/n wanted to talk to Thorin about her mother, but more important things stood in the way. Gandalf was telling us about some map when she noticed him pull out a key from his sleeve. Thorin looked at it as if it were a puppy that just spoke.

“If there’s a key, there must be a door,” Fili said. Y/n smiled at the thought she would be helping the company get back to their home and her mother’s old home.

Then the dwarves started to shout about something when Thorin stood and shouted

“Ath gjorv!” Y/n understood what he had said. As a young child, her mother had taught her Dwarvish, and she still spoke it but only she wanted to swear. All the dwarves fell silent, and then Thorin said.

”The dragon, Smaug hasn’t been seen for 60 years. So, we still cannot just go barging in.” They all looked down and Ori said,

“We will never get our home back.”

Y/n felt Kili move forward, and his knee moved towards hers.

“But you don’t remember we have Gandalf on the team, I bet he has killed thousands of Dragons in his time.” He said smiling at every dwarf.

Y/n looked up and saw Gandalf go pink with embarrassment, and instantly Y/n could tell that he had killed 0 dragons in his time. Then all the dwarves started to cheer again and even Y/n joined in this time, she would help get these dwarfs their home back, even if Bilbo said she couldn’t.

“You will need a burglar then.” Y/n looked up to see Bilbo had walked behind Thorin.

“And an expert one too.” Y/n laughed, Bilbo was walking straight into this one.

“And are you?” Oin asked leaning forward.

“Am I what?” Bilbo asked scratching his head.

“He says he is an expert!” All the dwarves cheer again but Bilbo cuts them off by shouting

“I am not a burglar! Neither is Y/n... I think.”

Kili and Fili start to chuckle.

“Well, there were a few times when I was out of arrows, and I used to get some from Mr. Jones. But then again I was 50.” Y/n said earning a glare from Bilbo.

“I am afraid I agree with Mr Baggins, he is no Burglar, but the lass has shown great skill in defending herself, maybe she would like to come?” Balin said looking at Bilbo and then y/n who nodded her head as Balin passed her a contract.

But before she could get it out of the old man’s hands Bilbo snatched it away from her. Y/n got up and walked over to him as he read.

“Incineration!” Bilbo said after struggling to say the word for some time.

“Oh yeah, Smaug would melt the flesh right off your bones,” Bofur said leaning around the doorway. Then Y/n grabbed the contract and lifted it higher so Bilbo couldn’t reach it. As she read through the pages, her heart lifted with every sentence, this looked like fun and she would get a 15th share. Then she said earning looks from the company,

“Many ways to die, sounds like my kind of adventure.” Then she turned around and saw Bilbo lying on the floor. She sighed; he had fainted.

“Thanks for that Bofur.” y/n heard Gandalf say as he moved forward and helped Y/n carrying Bilbo into a chair.

After Bilbo had been placed in the chair, Y/n went to get a quill to sign the contract. She smiled looking down at the long curvy signature. She was going on an adventure, to claim back her mother's homeland. Then she remembered she had wanted to ask Thorin about her mother, so she found him talking to Balin. She handed over the contract and looked at Thorin.

“So, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about my mother?” she asked after Balin walked away. Thorin smiled at her.

“Sure, thing lass, well where do I begin? She looked exactly like you to start with, and…. She was a really good friend of mine, She and Dis were best friends so, she also was an exceptionally good fighter.” He said trying to remember what her mother was like.

“But she went for a long expedition to visit her uncle in the iron hills, when Orcs had attacked her, she had put up a good fight, but one Orc came behind her, and she fainted. But when she opened her eyes, she was in a bed with your father looking at her. Dis visited her twice, one time when she was pregnant with you and then when you were born, she gave you a bow, which I saw on the chair by the door.”

Y/n laughed. Her mother was exactly how she wanted to know her. But what she didn’t know was how she died.

“Do…. Do you know how she died?” she asked. Thorin’s eyes fell, staring at the ground. Thorin did know how the young woman’s mother died but he didn’t want to tell afraid that she would go after the one responsible for her mother’s death.

“No, Y/n I do not know. I am deeply sorry.” Thorin said pulling Y/n into a warm hug.

After the little pep talk with Thorin, Y/n found Biblo was awake and talking to Gandalf, but being the sneaky girl, she was she just listened in to their conversation.

“Gandalf will you make sure me and (y/n) both come back, I know she wants to go on an adventure it’s probably her mother shining in her as I am told, but… I am not going.” Gandalf sighed and Y/n walked away head hung low.

As she walked out of the billiard room, she heard Balin say. “I believe we have lost our burglar, but we have 14 which is better.” She smiled at him and went to sit on the stool by the fire. After staring at it for a couple of minutes all the dwarves came in and started to sing.

Far over the misty mountain cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere break of day.

To seek our pale enchanted gold.

Y/n had loved the singing of the dwarves. It was so peaceful and calm. She also remembered this tale, her mother used to sing it when she was younger, and she would always laugh when she tried to do a very deep voice.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells.

While hammers fell like ringing bells

In place deep, where dark things sleep.

In hallow halls beneath the fells

Bilbo could hear the singing from the billiard room, he was thinking of dragons and fire and gold. Then a fire lit inside him and he wanted to hold a sword instead of a walking stick. Then he shook his head, he was being silly.

For ancient kings and elvish lord

There many a gleaming golden hoard

They shaped a wrought, and light they caught.

To hide in gems on the hilt of sword

On silver necklaces, they strung

The flowering stars on crowns they hung.

The dragon fire in twisted wire

They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountain cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere break of day.

To find our long-forgotten gold.

By the end of the song, Y/n and Bilbo were fast asleep. Gandalf pulled on a blanket over Bilbo, while Thorin picked up Y/n bridal style and placed her on the sofa in front of the fire, kicking Bofur off it. Then he leaned over the girl's sleeping body and kissed her forehead.

#kili x reader #kili durin #hobbit #xreader

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fantasyinallforms · 1 year

Note

Okay this is a bit simple compared to some of the others, but I’d love if you would do:

“HA! Take that!”

Thank you for the prompt Sunny!! ❤️❤️ I had an absolute blast writing this! Bit of a long one! Prompt was given to me for the FotFics March Madness event!

Also on A03! https://archiveofourown.org/works/45878251

Bagginshield-Rating [T]

Title: Bet On A Kiss

It had been one thing after another. No time to rest, no time to recuperate. So when they finally learned they were safe in Beorn’s lands, it was like a stone had been lifted off Bilbo’s back. After the events of the goblin tunnels and their run-in with the pale Orc, the company needed time to rest. Thanks to the Eagles carrying them so far, they could afford to take a few weeks to lick their wounds.

Beorn’s gardens felt like the closest thing to home since he left The Shire. Despite everything being twice his size, it was nice to lay among the flowers and just feel the sun on his face for a while. He had almost managed to drift off when two heavy-footed troublemakers lumbered through the grass.

Bilbo decided not to open his eyes, hoping they would pass right along. Instead, he heard a body thump down next to him.

“Kili, what are you doing!” Fili hissed

“It looks comfortable! Better than all the rocks we’ve been forced to lay on so far this journey.”

“Yes, but Uncle told us to find Bilbo!”

“And find him we have Fee.” Kili sounded like he was already completely comfortable on his spot in the grass. The boy's conversation piqued Bilbo’s interest, but he still didn't open his eyes. What did Thorin need with him anyway? He would think saving the king's life would afford him some kind of reprieve. Then again, this was Thorin Oakenshied he was talking about. He heard Fili give an exasperated sigh as he laid down in the grass on the other side of Bilbo.

“If Uncle asks, we can tell him that Bilbo was fast asleep, and we dared not wake him,” Fili whispered. Even if he didn't want to blow his cover by opening his eyes, Bilbo could envision the two armored lads lying among the wildflowers. It was nice that they were taking a moment for themselves. They were barely past their majority and had far too many struggles heaped onto their young shoulders. It made him wonder if Thorin had ever been as carefree and devious as his nephews. Sometimes, he could see that bit of Thorin in how Kili smiled or Fili’s eyes lit up. A smile really did illuminate all the features of the broody king's face. Bilbo dearly hoped it wouldn't be the last time he got to see it. He drifted off into a pleasant mid-day nap with the memory of Thorin smiling at him on Carrock dancing in his subconscious.

Bilbo was woken up mid-dream about 30 minutes later by a pleasant sound saying some unpleasant things.

“I sent you to find Bilbo, so imagine my disappointment when I see that instead of bringing him to me, you laid down next to him and took a nap!” Thorin’s voice was sharp and annoyed. Bilbo’s vision cleared from the fog of sleep to see him pacing in front of the boys giving them a thorough dressing down. He propped himself into a sitting position. He better at least try and step in before they got into any more trouble.

“Leave them alone, Thorin. I refused to go with them and told them to lie down with me. So if you’re yelling at them, you might as well yell at me too.” Bilbo chirped from his spot in the grass. The boy's eyes went wide in shock and gratitude.

“And what was the reason you refused to see me?” Thorin stalked over to where Bilbo was sitting, and he had to crane his neck to see him. Bilbo rolled his eyes and held his hands out, expectantly reaching toward Thorin. The dwarf king cocked an eye before taking his hands and pulling him effortlessly to his feet. Bilbo patted the loose grass and dirt off his pants before addressing Thorin again.

“I didn't refuse to see you; I simply wanted a nap first. Now, what was so urgent that it couldn't have waited until lunch?”

“I want you to start working with the princes to learn the basics of sword fighting.” Thorin crossed his arms and looked back at the boys, who looked equal parts excited and confused.

“That’s what was so incredibly important that I couldn't be allowed to take a nap in the first safe place we’ve landed in since Rivendell!” Bilbo threw up his hands and walked off in the direction of the house, collecting Fili and Kili as he passed them. How was it that someone so incredibly clever and tactically minded could be so dense! The three of them spent most of the afternoon running through some combat basics and standard stances before Bilbo decided that that was enough for today and left to get some food. The boys stayed behind.

**************

Fili and Kili sat under a small cluster of trees, eating some small finger sandwiches that Bilbo had brought out to them. When they finished those, they started sharpening their blades and, in Kilis's case, fashioning new arrows.

“Why do you think Uncle tasked us with teaching Bilbo instead of just doing it himself?” Kili wondered out loud.

“I don't know, could be several things, I guess. We’re closer to Bilbo than anyone else in the company other than maybe Bofur or Ori. It could be we’re the youngest out of the group and remember our early schooling the best. Or maybe he thought that if he had to teach Bilbo, they would be at each other’s throats less than an hour in.” Fili snickered

“The look Uncle gets on his face every time Bilbo points a wagging finger at him. Last person I’ve ever seen make him able to look like that was amad!” Kili threw his head back in a laugh. “You know, that would make a good wager Fee” Fili knit his brow together,

“What would?”

“Uncle will probably stop by and watch us train for at least a little while tomorrow. If he sees us messing it up too much or not quite to his liking, he’s likely to just take over. So the wager is once he takes over, how long till Uncle pushes Bilbo over the edge and they are in an all-out spat.” Kili’s mischievous smile was infectious, and the more Fili mulled over the idea, the more fun it sounded.

“That's a wager I could get in on.” Neither of them noticed Bofur, Nori, and Dwalin had been listing in on their little wager idea, and when Nori spoke, it made both boys jump.

“Aye, put me down for 15 minutes before Thorin stomps off in a rage,” Dwalin said, flipping a coin into Kili’s hands.

“I’ll do 20 min, and it’ll be Bilbo who huffs off.” Nori wagered. They all looked at Bofur, who looked deep in thought.

“You putting anything in the pot, Bofur?” Fili asked. Bofur’s face broke into a cheshire smile as he handed his coin over.

“My bet is that it takes them 15 minutes, BUT it won't end in a spat.” His response gained him a volley of blank stairs. “I can't be the only one who sees it? I think it’ll end with them snogging,” Bofur said proudly. The eyebrows of all dwarves currently in attendance shot up. They hadn’t thought of that, then they all doubled over, trying to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Feel free to tell the rest of the company, but don't let Thorin or Bilbo catch wind! As soon as Uncle shows up, we’ll see if we can get him to take over the training!” Kili pocketed the money he had been given so far and went back to making arrows and brainstorming about the day to come.

**************

Quiet and calm was not something that Thorin was typically very good at handling. They had been at Beorn’s for three days, and he was already restless. Thorin had enough downtime to find himself lost in his thoughts. Thoughts that he had, up until this point, tried not to focus on. Thoughts of Bilbo. What the hobbit had been willing to do for him caught him completely by surprise. It made the kindling that was his feelings for Bilbo up until this point catch fire. It also made him incredibly nervous. Yes, Bilbo had saved him, but he had charged into the battle completely unprepared and without any strategy. Without the quick thinking of his kin, it would have meant the death of both of them. If Bilbo was going to start throwing himself into potentially deadly situations, then he needed to learn how to fight, at the very least, the basics.

He had sent his nephews to find Bilbo for a reason. Beorn’s home and land weren't that extensive; it shouldn't have taken them more than 10 minutes to find him. Thorin had specifically sent them to look for him because he didn't want to find himself alone with the hobbit. He had already shown that his willpower was only so powerful with that hug on Carrock. He had meant only to press their foreheads together, but the overwhelming relief at seeing Bilbo whole and hale had hijacked his intentions. He hadn't expected Bilbo to fit so perfectly against him, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

He stalked through Beorn’s grounds until he finally saw what happened to his nephews. They had, in fact, found Bilbo. They flanked him, hands behind their heads, snoring lazily. Bilbo was lying on his side, curled in on himself. His features were soft, and he looked at peace. Thorin stood there momentarily, allowing himself to steal this moment of comfort they so infrequently got on the road before waking Fili and Kili.

Thorin watched Bilbo walk away, practically dragging the boys behind him. Good, best, Bilbo thought he was a hard ass. It was safer for both of them that way.

The next day after a few meetings on supplies with Beorn and Balin, Thorin found himself again with nothing to do. He sat on the front porch smoking a pipe and humming to himself until he got bored and decided to check in on how Bilbo’s training was coming along.

The boys had set up around a clear space between 2 clusters of tall oak trees. They waved as he approved, then went back to their drills. Thorin sat on a stump nearby and relit his pipe to watch. At first, it looked like everything was going well. Bilbo had a good stance, and he was holding his sword correctly. He had divested himself of his jacket and blazer and was just wearing his thin linen shirt and trousers. Thorin stared a little too long at how Bilbo’s body was moving through the drills. He was paying close enough attention that he also noticed that his footwork was all over the place. He waited to hear the prince's corrections, but none came. In fact, Kili was patting Bilbo on the back and congratulating him!

“Make sure you’re watching his footwork!” Thorin shouted. Fili gave a thumbs up, and they went again. The same thing happened, and again, the same congratulations. Thorin grumbled under his breath as he tapped out the embers of his pipe before approaching.

“You’re not watching his feet! If his footwork is that clumsy in battle, he’s as likely to trip and fall on his own sword as he is to kill an orc.” Thorin chastised. He turned to Bilbo. “Put down the sword and use this.” Thorin tossed a sparing stick at Bilbo’s feet.

“Why can't we keep using a real blade?” Bilbo asked while picking up the stick.

“Because we are not running drills. Footwork is the basis of all swordsmanship, and I intend to show you why. Ready yourself.” The moment he saw Bilbo take a stance with the sparing stick in hand, Thorin lunged. Bilbo held the stick out in front of him and parried the first attack but overcompensated. The second attack landed him on his back.

“Dead. Again but this time, widen your feet.” Bilbo did, and Thorin lunged again, this time allowing Bilbo the opportunity to repost. Thorin stepped out of the way and thwacked Bilbo on the back of the leg sending him to the floor.

“Dead. Again but this time, bend your knees. When you lunge for an attack, your feet should go with you. Don't overextend yourself, or you’re an easy target.” Bilbo picked himself off the floor and brushed the dust off his trousers. His face was now pulled back in a scowl. Bilbo didn't wait for him to attack first, but it made no difference. Thorin met the blow head-on, then tripped the small hobbit sending him to the floor once again.

“Tripping me definitely felt like cheating. If I didn't know better, I would say you were just enjoying getting to toss me around.” Bilbo huffed as he picked himself off the ground again. Thorin tried not to blush at the double entendre.

“There is no cheating in warfare if it keeps you alive.” Thorin said sternly, “Are you good to go again, or do you need to take a break?”

“I bet you would love it if I wanted to take a break. The weak little hobbit couldn't go more than three short rounds in a spar with the king. Well, if beating on me makes you less of an ass for the next few days, then fine, let's give the audience a show.” Bilbo sounded more annoyed and pissed off than Thorin had heard him in a while. He also noticed they did indeed have more of an audience than he had realized. The entire company was standing around the perimeter of their sparing area watching with determination.

“Fine, one more round.” Thorin lunged, and Bilbo parried the blow and backed up, waiting for Thorin to advance. When he did, Bilbo repeated the tactic. Curious where this was going, Thorin let Bilbo guide the match until finally, Bilbo had nowhere else to go, and Thorin had him backed into a tree.”

“Always be aware of your surroundings, Burglar, Dea-!!!!” Bilbo balled his fist into the front of Thorin’s tunic and yanked him down as hard as he could, crashing their lips together. It was such an overwhelmingly lovely sensation that Thorin dropped his sparring sword and braced one hand on the tree behind them. The other hand was now firmly behind Bilbo’s head, pulling him into an even deeper kiss. He hadn't even fully registered what had happened. All he could think was how amazing Bilbo’s mouth felt, how he tasted like honey, and the pipeweed he liked so much. He was absolutely sure he never wanted to stop kissing this mouth ever again. When he was finally forced to come up for air, he was rewarded with Bilbo’s blushing kiss drunk face.

“Dead,” Bilbo simpered. Thorin screwed up his face in confusion as he just barely registered the sparing stick Bilbo was holding to his side. Thorin pinned Bilbo’s hand above his head, causing him to squeak adorably and drop what he was holding. He brought his face as close to Bilbo’s as he could without their lips meeting.

“Please tell me that kiss was not just a ploy to win the match,” Thorin whispered. He had not meant for it to come out as a plea.

“No, but it helped.” Bilbo giggled. He closed the kiss once again, and Thorin dropped Bilbo’s hand so he could use it to run his fingers through his silky soft curls. Words of elation and disappointment could be heard from the crowd behind him. He heard Bofur shout.

“HA! Take that! You shouldn't have doubted me! Put the money in the hat, boys!” and heard the unmistakable sound of coins being dropped on top of one another. Thorin didn't care; how could he with the feeling of a happily pliant Bilbo under him. Perhaps a few weeks of time to recuperate from their travels would be more pleasant than he thought.

#bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #bilbo x thorin #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #FotFics #FIAF (me) fics

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