#also i made a lonely wizard drawing and threw it in there. he's unrelated to these tags

[dippin-dotty]

what's wrong with these fucking guys. thank god i'm the only normal person here. /ref

[thewarriorandtheking]

A Winter Tale

Imagine spending a winter night with Thorin in a cozy cabin deep in the woods...

One of the first Warrior and The King stories I wrote and still one of my favorites

Pairing: Thorin x oc 

The Warrior and The King Masterlist 

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

The snow was falling more heavily now, swallowing the sound of the horse’s footfalls. The trees bent their branches over the path, heavy with their wintry burden. The quiet of the forest was almost palpable, as if holding its breath. The afternoon was wearing on, it would be dark soon. Thorin Oakenshield was about to ask Kaylea Wolf if she was sure of the direction when a little cabin appeared in front of them. It looked well-kept and tidy, firewood neatly stacked in the shed on the side, the windows shuttered. Snow was drifted against the door, no one had been here recently.

Kaylea gave Thorin a hand down and dismounted her horse. Hector appeared out of the woods, carefully sniffing around. Thorin kicked the snow away from the door and opened it, gave the interior a quick glance. Low bed, table and chairs, woodstove with kindling stacked beside. He grabbed a broom from inside the door to sweep the snow off the little porch.

“I will get a fire started, if you want to see to your horse,” Thorin said, putting aside the broom to grab an armful of firewood. Kaylea nodded and led her horse under the shed. When she opened the cabin door a short time later Thorin had a fire going, the stove already beginning to radiate heat. Kaylea added her coat to the rack next to Thorin’s, dropped her saddle by the door. Her wolf followed her in and curled up next to the bed. Kaylea took a bag of coffee out of her saddlebags and put the kettle on to boil, then stood beside the stove warming her hands. Thorin came up beside her, he took hold of her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers.

“It is funny,” Thorin said. “For most of my life I dreamed of the halls of Erebor, I swore when I returned I would never leave. Now when I am there I dream of being in a cabin in the woods with you.”

Kaylea laughed. “I am quite sure that is not true! There is no Dwarf who prefers the woods to his halls of stone.”

“I prefer to be with you, my love,” Thorin drew her close, he moved a wisp of hair off her face. “One day I hope you will join me in my stone halls.”

“Why must we always have this same conversation?” Kaylea rolled her eyes. “You already have a Queen who has given you two beautiful children, you have no cause to release her from her vows. And I cannot remain in Middle Earth with you.”

“I have cause to…” Thorin began, but just then Hector gave a low growl, his eyes focused on the door. He stood up, his hackles partly raised. There was a swift knock. Thorin and Kaylea looked at each other, Kaylea put a hand on her sword and moved within striking distance of the door. Thorin lifted the latch and opened it.

On the step was an old man, wrapped in a heavy brown cloak, his hood pulled low against the weather. He was wearing a mantle of snow and carrying a soft satchel, in his hand was a long wooden staff.

“Good evening! I am glad to see you are here,” The strange figure said. “May I impose to warm myself by your fire for a little while?”

Thorin stepped aside so the man could enter, “Of course,” he said politely. “Please take a chair. We have just arrived, we should have coffee in a few minutes.”

“That would be splendid,” said the man. He threw back his hood and shook his cloak, what Thorin had taken to be snow on his shoulder was actually a white owl, which also shook itself, then looked around blinking its yellow eyes. As he went to shut the door Thorin caught a glimpse of a large animal in the trees.

“There is a bear outside,” he said to Kaylea.

“Do not worry, she is with me,” said the visitor. He was quite tall and lean, his brown beard streaked with grey. He wore a felt hat with a narrow brim and a sprig of holly stuck in the band. Although there was much grey in his hair he seemed somehow young, his green eyes sparkling. The man turned to Hector and bowed,“I am sorry I startled you, Master Wolf.” The wolf lowered his head in response. He took a seat by the stove, smoothing his cloak. An ermine poked its head up out of his hood and looked around, then disappeared. “Well, this is very nice!” The stranger exclaimed. “It is good to know that there are still some who know how to treat a fellow traveler in these dark times.”

Thorin looked the man up and down appraisingly. “The old ways are not yet forgotten. With whom do we have the pleasure of sharing our fire, if I may ask? And why are you travelling around with a bear?” Bears always made Thorin think of Beorn, the shapeshifting woodsman he had met on his journey to the Lonely Mountain.

The man smiled at Thorin, his eyes twinkling. “A better question is what is Thorin the King of Erebor doing in a trapper’s cabin in the forest?”

Thorin frowned at him, but before he could answer Kaylea spoke.

“My king, this is Radagast the Brown. The bear often travels with him”

‘The Brown wizard? I thought he was a myth,” said Thorin.  

Radagast looked offended, but then shrugged. “Just because I do not spend my time meddling in the affairs of Men like others of my order...ah, well! Perhaps it is better to be a mystery.”

Kaylea took three mugs off the shelf and poured the coffee. She offered one to Radagast who took it gratefully. He held the mug in both hands, sipping at it cautiously.

“This is very good. Thank you!”

“Do you know your bag is squeaking?” Kaylea asked, looking at the bag in the wizard’s lap that was moving in two different directions.  

“Yes, yes,” said Radagast, putting down his cup to reach into his bag and draw out two tiny brown kits. “Their mother was killed by a hunting party yesterday. They are too young to make it on their own, they are the second reason I am in this part of the forest tonight.” He cradled the kits in his arms, speaking softly to them in a strange language. They fussed and wined but soon fell asleep. The wizard sat rocking the tiny creatures tenderly, a soft smile on his lips.  

“The second reason,” said Thorin, looking at the wizard questioningly. “What is the first?”

“That would be you, your majesty,” said Radagast, carefully placing the wolverine kits back in his bag. He picked up his coffee again and sipped at it. “This really is very good!”

Kaylea chuckled at the wizard. “What business do you have with the King Under the Mountain? The Dwarves are a bit outside your purview, are they not?”

“Yes, thank the Goddess,” Radagast reached into his robe, searching his pockets. “I prefer to have as little to do with them as possible, such odd people. Only interested in metal and stone. But I do have something that belongs to the King, when I heard you were in the forest I could not miss the chance.” He brought out a heavy gold ring and presented it to Thorin. “I believe this is yours.”

Thorin was scowling at the wizard’s words but when he saw the ring his eyes went wide. He took it almost reverently, inspecting it carefully. “This was my grandfather’s,” he said softly, almost to himself. “However did you come by it?”

Radagast took a deep breath. “A crow brought it to me years ago. Found it in the rocks before the gates of Moria, they do love shiny things. I have been meaning to return it to you. I set out several times to do so, but something else always seemed to come up. And I do so hate to travel outside the forest.”

Thorin wanted to give the wizard a piece of his mind, How could he have kept this ring? But Kaylea spoke first. “Thank you, Radagast,” she said. “The King is very happy to have this returned.”

“Well, now that I have delivered it I must get on,” the wizard said. “I am already very late to be on my way home.” He drained his coffee cup. “Thank you for allowing me to warm up a bit.”  

Radagast rose and walked to the door, he put his hand on the latch and was about to open it when he turned, looking from Thorin to Kaylea and back. He had known Kaylea Wolf for many years, a deadly fighter with the grace and golden hair of the Fair Folk. The King was not at all what the wizard had expected. Taller than a Dwarf should be, with his close-cropped beard and fine features he looked quite different from most of his people. They seemed an odd couple, but they definitely were one, judging by the matching braids.

“Why are the two of you here in the forest?” The wizard asked.

“We were just out for a ride and were overtaken by the weather,” Kaylea said lightly.

Radagast raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “I suppose it is no business of mine, you are quite right. Congratulations, by the way,” he looked at Thorin closely. “I thought you were older.”

“Congratulations for what?” Thorin asked, suddenly remembering why he hated dealing with wizards. Talking to them always made you feel as though you were having two unrelated conversations at the same time.

“On your wedding, of course,” he looked at Kaylea, touching the front of his ear where her braids fell. “Are you not the Queen of Erebor?”

Kaylea gave Thorin a sideways glance. “I am not. It is rather a long story.”

Radagast cocked his head, as if the owl on his shoulder was speaking in his ear. “I am reminded not to speak about things which have not yet happened, I do sometimes get ahead of events. I wish you a very good evening.” He opened the door and vanished into a whirlwind of snowflakes.

Thorin and Kaylea looked at each other. “I wonder what that was all about,” Kaylea mused.

Thorin shook his head, chuckling. “I cannot imagine,” he said. But his mind went to the vision he had seen in the Mirror of Galadriel. Kaylea in a wedding dress, jeweled beads in her hair, the matching rings. It was a good sign if the wizard had seen it as well.   

They busied themselves preparing dinner. Thorin skinned the two coneys they had surprised earlier and cut them up, Kaylea set to work on the potatoes and vegetables. As in everything they did together the two of them worked in harmony, knowing intuitively when to give the other space on the small counter.

“Is he always like that?” Thorin asked Kaylea, turning to toss the scraps to Hector.

“Radagast cares little for the worlds of Men, his interest is in the beasts and the birds and the living things of Middle Earth,” she replied. “He does not talk much to people, so he is a bit less polished than Gandalf.”

“I do think I like him better,” said Thorin. “He seems a bit less self-important.”

 Some time later, when the dishes from dinner were put away Thorin and Kaylea were sitting on the floor by the stove. Kaylea had found a bearskin under the bed and spread it out against a bundle of blankets, Thorin sat down and patted the hide in front of him. As she settled down he stretched his legs out on either side and started to take out her braids. Kaylea always did them carefully before coming to Erebor but they never passed Thorin’s inspection, he always looked at them disapprovingly until he could redo them himself. He had finished the first one and was braiding the second when Kaylea asked to see the ring Radagast had brought. It was heavy and looked quite old, plain gold with the sigil of the house of Durin on it.

“You have one like this,” she said, handing it back to Thorin. He nodded.

“I made another when I thought this one was lost. This is the King’s signet ring, the original one, handed down from Nain himself. I am very glad to have it back.” He tied the bead to the bottom of Kaylea’s braid and sat back, drawing her close against him. She leaned back, watching the fire dance through the window on the stove and feeling very content in his arms.

“When Radagast brought that ring out I thought for a moment it might be a different one,” she said.

“I confess, I thought the same,” Thorin replied. He was silent for a time. “If it had been that one, I would have told him to keep it.”

“You do not desire it?”

“I saw what it did to my grandfather, what the gold created with it did to me. I still remember waking after you healed my wounds from the Battle of the Five Armies and thinking what a complete idiot I had been. No, I do not want it.” Thorin sighed. “It is out of my reach now, and good riddance.”

“This is why you are a better King than your grandfather, than your father would have been,” Kaylea said. “You are stronger, your vision is unclouded.”

“You have made me a better king,” Thorin replied. “Taught me how to look at problems differently, how to play the larger political game...and a few other things,” he kissed her neck, then gently nibbled her ear. Kaylea squirmed, smiling, her hands squeezing his. “Did I find a sensitive spot?” Thorin nibbled at her ear again, Kaylea turned in his arms and put a hand behind his head bringing her lips to his. This was one of those moments she wished she could just stretch out forever. The dark winter night, the cozy cabin, alone with the man she loved. If only life were so simple.