#dwarves learn to fear the hobbit

[gimlilithegreat]

My ideal sequel to The Hobbit (ignoring LOTR, the OTTrilogy can continue being perfect forever as a completely separate concept) is a vaguely slapstick groundhog’s day style redo where every time Bilbo dies he’s sent back to the day Gandalf arrives to invite him on an adventure.

It starts off enthusiastic because Bilbo is going to do everything right this time, he’s going to tell Gandalf immediately so they can fix everything and save everyone and stop Sauron.

But Bilbo keeps dying and everything keeps going wrong in new and incredible ways. They try the whole eagle thing. They try going with a massive army. Bilbo tries sneaking past Shelob, so many times.

He dies to orcs, spiders and old age. He dies falling off horses, tripping off cliffs and on one memorable occasion of a heart attack.

He lives through wars and councils and losing everyone over and over again.

And eventually Bilbo is a defeated hobbit with too many deaths in his memory to count and nothing left in him to give. He wakes up after his latest failure and decides to just go on the stupid quest to Erebor because if nothing else it worked last time.

He finds himself enjoying it, enjoying spending time with these dwarves who are confused by the tiny little war veteran in their midst. He’s weirdly laissez faire about dying and surprisingly good with a sword considering he’s a hobbit.

They get attached and work together to stop their little companion from walking into oblivion and Bilbo slowly remembers what living felt like and is starting to get his motivation back. This time with the desperation that this time will work out specifically because he loves these dwarves and no other versions of them will ever be the same. He has family now and he doesn’t want to leave them behind.

Bilbo’s learnt a lot over hundreds of life times and he uses all of that knowledge to get them through safely.

Facing off with orcs, brow beating stubborn elves and whipping the gold sickness straight out of dwarves.

He comes to the end of the journey, his dwarves are safe, Erebor is reclaimed with shockingly minimal loss of life and he has the ring and the willingness to try again for Mordor - when Bofur’s like, “what do you mean Mount Doom’s the only place it can be destroyed? Sounds like you just need lava. Follow me laddie.” And takes him down to the deepest and darkest parts of the mines under Erebor where dwarves have dug the deepest and uncovered great chasms at the bottom of which flow molten rivers of magma.

They drop in the ring.

It floats on the surfaces for a moment before it cracks and dissipates with an unsettling scream.

In the distance to the east a tower falls and orcs and goblins watch with horror as the eye melts and shatters.

Down the depths of Erebor Bilbo lets out a great sigh of relief.

“It’s almost four Bilbo, we should get you some tea before that stomach of yours starts a revolt.”

And Bilbo goes back up into the sunlight to settle in for a nice afternoon visit with his dwarves in the garden they built for him on the slopes of Erebor.

[flaminandgooo]

Bucky, who loves reading and finally gets to sit down and enjoy all the literature he's missed for the past decades.

And Sam. Who watches that stunning smile bloom across his face like a morning glory at the first rays of sunshine the first time he gifts him a new book and decides he wants to witness that sight again and again and again.

Sam, who eyes the ever growing piles of books scattered across Bucky's apartment with a fondness that has long since done surprising him and snorts at Bucky's stupidly proud smirk when he compares him and his book herding to Smaug herding the dwarves' gold in the Hobbit (they did a buddy reading of the Hobbit, LotR and the Silmarillion on Bucky's insistence, which was about when Sam found out that 1) Bucky could talk non-stop for at least half an hour with enough motivation, and 2) the asshole had no concept of time when he talked about books and Sam had woken up half a dozen times to at least one 20 minutes long audio message from Bucky rambling about Tolkien lore).

Sam, who learns how much Bucky loves poetry on a random night during a stake out because the man mentions that the only thing he's grateful for when it comes to the Winter Soldier conditioning is all the languages they've put inside his head so now he can enjoy poetry in every language that he speaks, because no poem is more beautiful than in the language it was originally written in.

Sam, who from then on buys Bucky poetry books. English classics, of course. But also Spanish and Turkish. French and Arabic. Japanese and Hebrew. Xhosa, Hindi, Greek, Portuguese. Old and modern alike.

Sam who listens with his eyes closed when Bucky reads him his favorite poem of each book, losing himself into the sudden softness of Bucky's voice, into his surprisingly beautiful diction, asking 'how about another one you liked?' when he feels especially greedy and wants to bask in the velvety quality of the man’s voice just a little longer, Bucky indulging him, always, too happy to share, the shyness of the first few times he'd done this long gone now.

Sam, who listens with a bleeding heart to Bucky as he explains why Tommorow, At Dawn and 'Tis A Fearful Thing are his favorite poems.

Sam, who goes on a cruisade against the Smithsonian to get his hands on Bucky's belongings from the war because he mentioned once a beat-up copy of the Ghost of Canterville he used to drag around everywhere with him across Europe because it was his favorite tale, the one his mother had read to him time after time when he was little, and it reminded him of home.

Sam, who gifts Bucky a collector LotR bookset he got from a small artist for his birthday, with handmade leather bindings and painted edges.

Sam, who has to sneak away and step out on the front porch for a second at the look of pure adoration Bucky sends his way once he's done running his flesh and bone hand along the carefully crafted leather spines of his brand new books, taking advantage of his nephews making a show of bringing their own gifts to their Uncle Bucky to calm the wild beat of his heart against his ribcage. (And if he pointedly ignores Sarah's knowing look on his way out, it's nobody's business.)

Finally, Sam. Who sucks in a sharp breath that same night when mismatched arms pull him into a strong embrace just as he's about to leave Bucky with a fluffy pillow and a warm quilt on the couch, the softest of thank yous dropped directly in the shell of his ear, two words that have never sounded so tender, echoing in his head long after he retreated to his own room.

[totallynottinsel]

Happy Hobbit Spring prompts from @acorn-and-oakleaves !

- Dwarves in the Shire + Maypole

- Flower crowns / Courting Gifts

"Come on, you look fine enough as you are. This isn't a dinner party." Bilbo swatted away Thorin from his stand at a mirror, who had been fussing with his appearance more than he normally would have, though it had no doubt to do with their current spot. After the hardships of the Battle and steady recovery for all, Bilbo had kindly invited Thorin to take visit to him in the Shire when spring had made its way, and he was glad to accept. Another addition Bilbo offered was for Fili and Kili to join if they wished, as a sort of familial get-away from the stresses of prince and kinghood; to which they did within a heartbeat, very keen to see the wonders of Bag End again.

Bilbo told them of one of the many festivals celebrated across the Shire to welcome the spring home, a joyous night long jest that brought feasts and laughter---of course with plenty of spirits to share. And, after giving thorough explanation on what a Maypole was, Fili and Kili (though finding it a bit odd) practically pleaded Thorin to go until he agreed. So, there he stood the night of the fest, trying with all his might not to make it known he was slightly on edge. Not because he wasn't interested in what sorts of things Bilbo and his own kin grew up with and enjoyed, but---well, because he was rather out of his depth. He did not know what to say, or do, or what not to do in fear of making Bilbo downright embarrassed and he himself a fool. Was is necessary for all to join around that Maypole? Was there some sort of proper greeting he did not know of? Don't even get him started on dancing.

Hobbits were still quite the mystery to him, but what better way to learn than to throw yourself into the jaws of the beast? That had worked for him in the past, at least. To some degree.

"You look great! Very... hm, what's the word?" Kili tapped a finger to his chin.

"Dapper, maybe?" Fili offered up a word.

"Dapper!"

"I'd say very handsome indeed." Bilbo said with sureness, and was pushing them all out the door before Thorin had any objection to that comment. Jolly music carried on the wind all the way to Bag End, beckoning them to come forth, and the tasteful smells of warm food and fresh ciders made and even more convincing story.

"Oh, I'm starving. Last one there has to pay for everyone's share?" Kili nudged his brother's shoulder with a gleam in his eye, digging his boots into the grass in an already prepared stance.

"You're on!" Fili clapped his hands together, and within a blink they were scampering off down the winding paths, avoiding the unsuspecting walkers who nearly escaped a hit.

"Ah---watch out, please!" Bilbo hollered, though he was only met with angry glares from now displeased neighbors, who most did not appreciate the roughness of dwarves. "They have enough energy to keep a river going for years."

"I did warn you." Said Thorin, cracking a small smile and his nephews childlike wonder.

"And I unfortunately ignored it." Bilbo sighed, and the two strolled down the path with ease. The stars flickered and the moon came to light the way for those in the dark, while fireflies by the hundreds woke from fields to take flight. "You know, I haven't been to one of these since my parents passed." He said a bit solemnly, but the memories he shared with them over powered the ache in his heart he felt on occasion. "After that I... well, I didn't really have anyone to share it with. Seeing others happy soured my mood quite a bit, but now---" He gestured a hand between them. "I have you. A--And Fili and Kili, of course. And everyone else."

"I'm honoured you've let me accompany you." Thorin said fondly. "When you left Erebor, I was afraid I'd never see you again." Which spoke true for various; he'd grown worried Bilbo would avoid the company as much he could after the peril they'd put him through. Or perhaps he did not wish to speak with Thorin from what happened during his sickness, even if they had no quarrel of it. Yet Bilbo surpassed his expectations yet again, and he would not let the chance pass him by.

"Really?" Bilbo seemed surprised by that. "You'll have a harder time getting rid of me, I'll have to say." He smiled.

The walk continued, and, a few awkward instances of them accidentally (or at least that's what both of themselves thought) rubbing arms or touching hands, subsequently flushing, and ignoring the topic all together, they had merged with the festival. Fili and Kili looked nowhere to be in sight, though it was safe to assume they would be at a feasting table. "Oh, how about we---"

"Bilbo Baggins."

He knew that voice; his brows furrowed and his smile faded, turning a shoulder to be bitterly met with an old foe. "Lobelia." He practically growled, folding his arms over his chest. He couldn't even bear to speak the Baggins name for her ears. "How's life without my spoons, yes?"

"You're diabolical!" She shook her head, and gave Thorin a horrid side glare. "And who's this? One of those dirty dwarves who you ran off with? Didn't think to stay with them?"

"Oh, put a sock in it." Bilbo rolled an eye, and his comment caught both the other two quite off guard. He saved a particular rudeness for Lobelia centered situations only. "I'm surprised the whole Shire hasn't fled with you about."

"Awful, you are! Just awful." She hoisted up the ends of her dress and made a disapproving sound. "You won't have Bag End forever!" Then she was off at last.

"Who was--?"

"You don't even want to begin to know." He spared Thorin the long feud between he and the Sackville-Baggins that spanned the rest of time, as that was a story for another day. They made way to a lengthy table of good foods of all kinds, most being newfound to Thorin, who eagerly took a delectable smelling, golden crusted blackberry hand pie. Bilbo took note of his enjoyment of all the treats, hoping to remember to search around for his mother's old sweet recipes when they returned home. "You've got a bit... here," Bilbo fished in his pocket to bring up a handkerchief, dusting away the leftover crumbs that had found its way to Thorin's lip.

"Thank you." Thorin chuckled, placing a hand over Bilbo's, and there both of them froze once they'd realized how close they'd gotten.

"Did we miss something?" Suddenly Fili was patting his uncle's shoulder with a piece of bread in his other hand.

"Is all this free?" Kili asked with two plate fluffs of just about everything he could fit on them.

"Ah, er... yes? You might want to ask which ones are before you take it." Bilbo took a step from Thorin and cleared his throat, disposing of the handkerchief before any questions could be asked of its existence. Thankfully, before the eventual awkwardness could creep back he caught a glimpse of many beautiful flower crowns being made not too far off, and an idea struck him that could go either wonderfully or horribly.

"Stay here, I've just got to grab something!" He said to Thorin who gave him a nod, now with the boys to keep him out of the depths alone. But as he turned he was met with a group of wide-eyed children. "Hello?"

"Did you really run away with dwarves, Mister Baggins?" One boy asked, likely hearing such a thing from gossip hungry parents. "My mummy says that's disgraceful."

Bilbo blinked silently at that before attempting to recover. "I didn't 'run away', I was hired. You can tell your mother that---"

"Is that really what dwarves look like?" A girl pointed to the trio behind him. "I thought they was made out of rocks and stuff!"

"What did they hire you for?" Another boy asked.

"They---er, nevermind what. But it was a very important task."

"He stole from a fire breathing dragon itself!" Exclaimed Kili, and all the children gasped with awe. "The very first hobbit to talk to one face to face. At least I think?"

"Tell us more!" The children flocked around Bilbo with excitement, and there he sighed, forgoing his prior task for the time being to take a seat and tell the tale of his unexpected journey. He left out the gory details and personal squabbles, but the Trolls and the death of Smaug and tells of the great Thorin Oakenshield had the children enamoured. They flew to him afterward, asking if he truly was a king and his battles with Azog the Defiler. Unfortunately, a few horrified parents caught onto their stories and took their children away. Bilbo couldn't blame them, he supposed.

"Which ones would you like, love?" A lady asked as Bilbo finally got the chance to pursue all the flower crowns, deep in thought of which would be a perfect fit for Thorin---if he was to like it, that was. Placing a parade of pretty, delicate flowers didn't sound all the dwarf-ish, but he would look stunning wearing one. He saw one with blue and purple flowers, and his heart leapt straight for it. "That one, and this, please. Thank you." He himself chose one with yellow and white daffodils.

"Ehm," He announced his return, and there in his hand held the crowns. "I, uh... got this for you. I thought you might want one." He gave Thorin his, but was fast to back track on the gift. "Of course, you don't have to wear it. I just thought it might... yes. Should I take it back?"

"No, it's beautiful." Thorin said, taking it and carefully eyeing all the intricate details woven into the ribbon and flora. It was a stark contrast from the harsh, cold metals and gold he had been accustomed to in Erebor that weighed it's wearer down. Yet these were light and colorful, beaming with life at every touch with softness. He found it to be unmistakably like Bilbo, a strong heart of nature whose beauty was unique to him alone, and who could persevere like no other. "I will treasure it." He carried it to the top of his head where it rested, smiling at its touch.

Bilbo began to feel his heart flutter. "Oh, good, good." He wanted to kick himself in the knee for being terrible at the whole flirting thing, but the fact Thorin hadn't gone running for the hills yet meant he had to be doing something correct. Soon music started to play, and pairs hurried to the middle of the open grass floor to join hand in hand. It truly was now or never, Bilbo thought; asking a king for a dance, in front of a towns full of people, whom most he either knew from childhood or were somehow related to him---that should be easy, shouldn't it?

Funnily enough, the jarring sight of Fili dancing happily with a young lady amongst the crowd was what really pushed him forward. "Would you like to dance?"

Thorin, more surprised than he was expecting him to be, had to take in his question for a moment. Then: "I would love to." He reached for Bilbo's hand, allowing its tender feel to embrace with his own. "Though I must admit, I'm not the best."

"Good! Neither am I. I can't promise I won't step on your feet."

The two delve into the lively crowd and found their place within its rhythm, sharing laughter with each wrong step or misplaced direction. For a time they only saw each other against the moonlight and the carry of the melody, as if it had been made for them. Bilbo's heart had longed for such a moment to stay, but had been stuck searching in all the wrong places for it until it quite literally had to knock at his door.

The music slowed and the previous dancers left to return to their chatter, Thorin's hand stayed around the curve of his waist, the other gliding up his shoulder. As their eyes met Thorin took a slow approach to lean in forward, drawing he and Bilbo's lips closer, but out of quick hesitation Bilbo turned away from it. "I'm sorry," His forehead fell down to Thorin's chest. "Just---not here." He was not about to be caught having his first belated kiss with Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the bloody Mountain where Lobelia Sackville-Baggins could see! That would surely haunt his dreams for years.

"Where should we?" Thorin asked while simultaneously trying to get a view of Bilbo's undoubtedly embarrassed expression. He understood his desire to share such a gesture between them alone, and wished to make it as special as he could if possible; It meant a great deal to both of them that was best savoured.

Bilbo pondered their limited options, though he was struck with one in particular that was both quick and convenient. "Well..."

[thespottedcreature]

Little one, part I

You are Thranduil's adopted daughter and he loves you more than anything, even if you cause a lot of trouble sometimes.

A series that takes a peek into the life of Y/N, the adopted daughter of Thranduil and younger sister of Legolas.

Fandom: Tolkien - The Hobbit, Peter Jackson - The Hobbit movies Characters: reader (Y/N), Thranduil, Legolas, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur (rest of the company mentioned) and Tauriel Warnings: none really Keywords: child!reader, parental fluff, Thorin's company needs to learn some manners I own nothing except my own writing.

You sneaked around the kingdom, trying to be as quiet as possible. You wanted to see the dwarves that your brother had found in the woods, the ones you were forbidden from seeing. So naturally, you wanted to see them even more. You had never seen a dwarf before, your father wouldn't allow you to, and you were curious. Were they truly so short that ada told them that they were? You sneaked down the stairs that you knew took you down to the dungeons, you knew that they whould be kept there.

This was the perfect night to do this, everyone was up, enjoying themselves, it was the feast of starlight. You had thought it was boring so you sneaked down, knowing that there whould be no guards down tonight. You had tried this before but you couldn't sneak down without being seen, so you just had stayed higher up, listening to them talking in their gruff, and low voices. But now, you made your way down, making sure that your steps were silent. You were a little nervous, your father had warned you about them many times, not to go close to them.

- - - -

Meanwhile, Thorin was sulking in his cell, cursing the elves in his head. He heard the light patter of feet, the stone made them more audible, and he got up, thinking it was one of the guards yet again. "What do you want?" He bellowed and marched to the door, ramming his hands against it and making it rattle, only to see that the hallway was empty. He frowned and looked around, not seeing anyone. "What are you doing, Thorin?" Balin's voice came from a few cells from the left and Thorin could swear he could hear someone snickering. "It's nothing, I thought I heard something." He grumbled and sank back down, resting his head against the stone wall when he saw someone walking on the stone path. "Hey!" He yelled and the figure jumped into the air and disappeared behind a corner.

- - - -

You were breathing heavily, having gotten spooked by the sudden yell. You were evening out your breath, a part of you wanting to run to your father or your brother, and let him comfort you, but most of you was too curious and you pushed the fear aside, peeking behind the corner yet again. There was so many of them, nearly all the cells were full. They were all at the gates, and they looked so ... funny. They were short, and all of them had some sort of beard. They were not fat, but they were a lot bulkier than you. You couldn't control your curiosity, you slowly inched closer. You were in the shadows, so none of them could see you, but you could see them clearly. Most of them looked quite scary, but some of them looked kind. You were so curious, your head full of questions. What did dwarf children do for fun? Was a beard itchy? Was it hard to fight when you were stocky? You just stood there, thinking about what you should do, when the same voice made you jump slightly but it didn't scare you away this time. You inched closer to the border between light and shadow, pondering what you would do. "I can see you standing there." The voice rang yet again, and you decided to step into the light, walking so you were in front of the cell. You stared at him, his hair was dark and the beard he had was short, and his face was a little stunned. You took a tiny step forward and tilted your head, not sure what to do next, your curiosity rising. You decided to see who was in the next cell, so you shifted to see what did that dwarf look like. He had a long white beard and nearly no hair at all. You looked from one to another, they looked so different, yet somehow similar. The latter smiled and leaned to the bars. "What are you doing here, little one?" His voice was gentle and you thought for a moment before you answered. "I wanted to see a dwarf. Ada wouldn't let me so I came on my own." You declared and looked around.

- - - -

The small elfling was talking with Balin, having moved on from Thorin, who kept a close eye on her. She was very young, and her hair was done half up and her eyes shone as she was watching Balin's every move. "What is your name?" The elfling didn't answer straight away but after a little while of pondering. "Y/N." She stated simply and shifted her feet. "What is yours?" She asked Balin, who answered her nearly instantly. "Balin." "That is a funny name." She giggled and Balin huffed. "I suppose." She shifted her weight to see who was at the next cell, only to be met with Dwalin's gruff voice. "What do you want, leave me alone." He banged the bars but the young elf didn't' even flinch, she just giggled and moved on, walking past a few cells before her steps halted. "I like your hat." She was standing in front of Bofur's cell, then. "Why, thank you little one." His voice was gentle, he was good with kids. "Can I ask you a question?" She was still standing in front of Bofur's cell, who answered her, a little hesitantly, but for nothing, because the question she asked was quite sweet. "What do dwarf children do for fun?" She was staring at Bofur with bright eyes, clearly wanting to know the answer. "Well, they play with wooden toys and they play tag and hide and seek and other games." Bofur listed, and she huffed. "Huh. So the same things as I do." She shrugged and pressed herself to the wall, and suddenly pushing herself off of it and jumping over the gap between the two stone paths that ran in front of the paths of the cells, landing on the other side with the agility of an elf. She jumped up to the candle holder and swung back and forth on it for a while before letting go and landing with steady feet, not wobbling at all. She turned to the dwarf that was in the cell that she was now next to.

- - - -

This cell had a young looking dwarf in it with light brown beard and hair. "Can you say something in dwarvish? I would like to hear some of it, ada always says it sounds funny." The dwarf stared at me for a moment but did indeed say a sentence in dwarvish. You giggled. "It sounds like you have a sore throat but you still want to speak." You tilted your head. "But I kind of like it. It's different, but not as horrible as ada described it as." "Who is this ada you talk about?" Another dwarf, this one with dark hair and the smallest of all the beards, was looking at you. He had warm, brown eyes that reminded you of your father's elk. "Ada is my father, it's just funny to call him father when there is a shorter and more convenient word to it." "Your father doesn't sound very pleasant," Thorin growled from his cell, and you turned to him. "No! He is the best. But he might get a little boring sometimes, he doesn't allow me to do many of things, such as..." "Visit the dungeons alone?" You froze at the sound of your father's voice but turned around to face him. "Hi, ada." You greeted him with a quiet voice, knowing that he would be angry. Thranduil stared at you for a moment and the dwarves were silent, observing the situation and settling with the thought that you were the daughter of the king, the king that they hated. You were looking at the ground, not wanting to look at his face, you couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. Suddenly, you felt hands around you as Thranduil picked you up and hugged you to his chest tightly, taking long breaths. "Y/N, I was so worried, I was sure that a spider had eaten you." You buried your head to his chest, muttering out words as you clutched his robes in your hands. "I'm sorry ada, I just really wanted to see the dwarves." - - - -

"Ada, I searched everywhere, I don't understand where she..." Your brother had arrived, speaking with a nervous tone until he saw you. "Where did you find her?" Thranduil handed you to him, and you wrapped your hands around his neck as you clung to him now. "She was down here, talking with the dwarves," Thranduil answered, sounding a little bit displeased and you shrunk down into Legolas's chest. "Talking with the dwarves, why whould you do that Y/N?" He asked you and you lifted your head from his chest. "I was curious, you whould never let me go down there so I went alone. And the party was boring." Your father just huffed, and took you from Legolas, heading downstairs. "This elloth is going to get a bath and then go straight to bed." "Noooo!" You squealed and went totally limp in his arms and slipped off and ran back towards the cells. "Y/N." Your father's voice was calm, but it had a slightly sharp edge to it as he looked at you. "I am not in the mood for games." You smiled miscefiously and shifted your weight from one leg to another. "Thats too bad, because I am." You stormed over to the path in front of the cells. "Y/N, please. Let's go. I'll read you a story afterward." Your brother tried, slowly inching to his left. But your mind was set, and you weren't about to change it. "No." You stomped your leg to the ground.

The next thing you noticed was that your father was at the other end of the path, and your brother was at the other. "What to do now?" You pondered, and as they moved towards you, you allowed your shoulders to slump. "Let's go and end this foolishness." Your father approached you and you let your head sink down. "Okay." But just as he was going to grab you, you jumped up as hard as you could and grabbed the edge of the path that was running above. You hoisted yourself up, and peeked over the edge, smiling yet again. "Did you really think that I would come that easily?" You didn't wait for the answer, you got up and ran off, giggling, leaving Thranduil and Legolas shaking their heads. They made their way up after you with small smiles on their faces

****

Like this fic? Head over to my AO3, more chapters are posted there (as well as more of my work)! I am posting some of my favorites here as well, but it is my main channel as of now. REALLY like this fic/series? Consider buying me a coffee: Ko-Fi !

[porphyriosao3]

Day 15 - Craft

Bilbo was aware - had been aware - that there were all sorts of conversations going on in the mountain to which he in particular was not privy. Periodically someone would go to speak to (i.e., shout at) Thorin where he wandered amongst the piles of gold, for example. Often the hobbit came around corners to find a small huddle of dwarves muttering together, and they always stopped and stared as he went by. It had only gotten worse since Thorin had given him this ridiculous armor.

One night, things seemed to come to a head. He approached the main dining area to overhear "... well, with all due respect Lord Balin, this has gotten ridiculous." Coming from, of all dwarves, Dori! Bilbo hated to eavesdrop but found himself melting into the shadows nearby all the same. "Even in the Blue Mountains, for things to have gone this far without..."

"Yes, Dori, I know, I know," Balin groaned. "I don't think anyone foresaw the shirt." There was a pause, as though Balin were thinking. "You know a dwarf his whole lifetime, and still he can surprise you."

"The point remains," Dori continued in a just-so tone of voice, "we know none of the information necessary for the next steps. Also," he paused, 'there's the matter of the Mastery." None of this left Bilbo any the wiser, but Balin's response was lost to the ages as Nori's hand landed on the hobbit's shoulder from a patch of darker shadow that Bilbo would have sworn couldn't contain a dwarf.

"Well, hello, Bilbo," he said loudly, practically dragging him into the room and leaving the other two staring in surprise. "We wondered where you'd got to. Dangerous place, shouldn't wander too far in here." His cocked eyebrow brought a flush to Bilbo's face. Bad enough to eavesdrop but even worse to be caught!

"Yes indeed," Balin said with a smile as false as a cat's promise. Dori sat nearby as focused on Bilbo as though he were the only thing in the room. Odd. "Bilbo... I just realized we know hardly anything about your life in the Shire! We saw your lovely home, of course," making all of Bilbo's social sensors turn to point due trouble, "but tell me, what did you do for a living?"

"I beg your pardon," Bilbo said by habit before remembering where he was. Perhaps that wasn't quite as rude a question among dwarves. He reminded himself forcefully that he wasn't in the Shire at the moment. As though the bare cold stone walls and floors didn't give that away! "As a rule, gentlehobbits don't talk about such things, I must say," he continued, provoking a wince from Dori and Balin both.

"Understood, my apologies if I was inappropriate," Balin faux-chuckled. Really, Bilbo thought, he might try a little harder. Even a faunt wouldn't be fooled! "What I mean is... do you make things? What was your craft? Metal, wood, stone? Gems? Were you a merchant?" This was entirely too much.

"Wha... you... what?" Bilbo spluttered. "You think I'm some sort of tradesman? I fear there is some sort of confusion going on. Perhaps I should leave you to your discussion." He drew himself up. The nerve!

Dori sighed and leaned in. "You are not a dwarf, and we are not hobbits," the old dwarf said primly, reminding Bilbo yet again that the rules might be different here. "Our intention is not to offend, but to learn, Bilbo. All dwarves have a craft. I am a tailor, as is Nori. Bifur and Bofur are miners, Bombur a tinker, the princes are a gemcutter and weaponsmith respectively, and so forth. It is how we..." here his eyes cut to Balin, whose expression spoke of worry. "... how we understand the nature of those around us."

"Oh," Bilbo said blankly, glancing from face to face. "Er... well..." He racked his brain. "I spent much of the day gardening and cooking, if that helps. Quite social, don't you know, always running about," he chuckled and realized he was laughing alone. Honestly, everyone looked so focused! This was a very strange conversation. "Perhaps you could say I was a cook." Balin was already shaking his head.

"That's a task, not a true craft," he said, provoking a snort of disgust from Bilbo. The hobbit would have argued but Balin was pressing on. "What do you make? Anything durable, anything that lasts."

"Had a lot of books in his house," Nori said while staring at the wall, acting completely disinterested in the whole goings on. "Papers on the desk showed a nice hand, though far too Elvish."

"You went through my papers!" Bilbo shouted. "Nori!"

"A scribe!" Balin announced with a beaming smile. Dori nodded, face a picture of satisfaction. "Did you write for others?"

"Well, I suppose I occasionally wrote a letter for someone or read mail to others without their letters, but..." Bilbo said to universal smiles. "I did compose a book for the children of silly tales from the Shire, but I hardly think..."

Ori, who had wandered in midway through the discussion, looked over. "You wrote a new book?" He said with eyebrows raised. "By yourself?"

"Preserving the lore of his people," Balin said. "Very clear. That's settled." Dori nodded, his face a picture of satisfaction. The whole group broke up at once, leaving Bilbo more confused than ever. As Nori stood to leave, though, he seemed startled to find a hobbit at his elbow.

"Let's talk about the propriety of going through someone else's desk and things, shall we?" Bilbo said, a steely smile not making the dwarf feel comfortable. It was a smile that would have fit perfectly on Thorin.

"Oh yes, you'll do just fine," Nori laughed, leaving Bilbo flummoxed. Curse the dwarves for their confusing ways!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The king's toy - Thranduil x fem!reader

warning : smutish, use of wine, possesive, some degradation, obsession

Summary : The Elven King Thranduil, ruler of Mirkwood and his pretty toy. A human woman, no more than a second of beauty in the king's infinite life. But with every second they spend together, he consumes her more and more. In the end, she had no choice but to obey her king.

Info : So Thranduil or the Hobbit mini phase you could say has taken hold of me after I saw some scenes with my mother this morning. So have this little slightly more dark thing for the elven king

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°,,From this day forward, you are nin múl," said the king of the mirkwood. He looked down at her from the high throne made of deer antlers and wood. She was his beautiful human wife, actually a traveling singer in a group from different parts of the world. But with money, precious stones and the command of a king, her "companions" were worth more than her. Now she knelt before him, her gaze undecided and fearful, knowing that she belonged to him. But this fact, this absurdity, frightened her even more. His gaze let her know that he would bring her to so much more.

°He had not called her my slave for nothing. She quickly learned not to disobey his orders. His guards, his own son, had recaptured her from the forest within a few hours. No matter how many times she was carried away, the ropes closed around her body, precisely encircling and yet holding her tight. Her pleas were met with a pitying look from the prince. ,,Don't struggle...it makes it easier," he said to her as he brought her into the throne room. The rope on her hands was loosened slightly by Legolas, but she would not get out of the hall.

°,,Again and again! Understand at last that you belong to me," he demanded, gesturing to his son. She did not see the hesitant look as he knew what this would mean. But another look was not necessary as he gave his father his well-formed staff and disappeared with a dismissive look. The footsteps faded and it seemed dead silent between them. ,,Please, Your Majesty, let me-just let me go," she tried, wincing as the wood of the staff settled under her chin. He forced her to look at him and she flinched as his cold fingers laid on her cheeks.

°In the time she had been here, she had quickly learned that he was not purely interested in the physical. No, there was the night when he lost himself in her, wanted to hear the sounds she made, wanted to let everyone hear them. He took her body as he wanted, used her as he wanted and yet his eyes flashed in the mirror again and again when he took her. But just when their eyes met in the mirror, she saw his obsession as he pulled her close, his hands exploring her crown. He saw her beauty, the thought of holding her in his hands and having her for himself.

°Another thing besides the punishments from the blows with his staff, sword or hand was his emotionality. When he looked at her he was calm and almost happy, but when she used her talent to play the harp she was better than the elves. She was Thranduil's personal songbird, playing for him while the king looked at her, read a book or hummed along. It was the only time she blossomed and felt at ease when she played the harp. But it was then that she felt the pitying gaze of Legolas. But her father saw it too.

°He saw his son looking at the pretty creature. He imagined that he also wanted to give her something. Love and devotion. Something the king could not allow. Under other circumstances, he would have let his son have fun with it. But those would have been different circumstances. Now it was different and perhaps it was the rise of evil, the dwarves, the dragon and the ring. Maybe it was the loss of his wife, the emotions or it was all together that made him become so obsessive.

°She only became even more his perfect favorite, his pretty star in matching clothes. Initially white hip dresses with bright gemstones, robes and blouses that hid her body underneath. Only visible to the king in his bedroom when the wine flowed over her, wetting her skin and turning the white a dark red. It was a favorite of the king to kiss and lick the sweetly tart wine from her bed with the finest steel. Forged to leave her in place. Until at some point it went so far that her body was covered with the most necessary. Silver threads threaded with diamonds barely covered her nipples, a simple crown of wood with white roses on her head and a white, almost transparent fabric wrapped around her midriff. Her fingers were adorned with precious rings, gifts from her king.

°Whenever she saw him, she was nestled against his leg on the throne. Playing the harp, her gaze blank and evasive, resigning herself to her life was the harp that kept her alive. Before he pulled her onto his throne whether there were guests in the room or not. Who was to stop him for he was the king of mirkwood and his actions were right and proper. His son would not have the opportunity to mess with his diamond and everyone else would be honored to be in his presence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@tinfairies

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Bagginshield-tober prompt Hands ❤️❤️❤️

Of course! Starting this off with a nice sweet treat. 😊

Being on the road for months now with the dwarves, Bilbo had come to learn that there were some major differences between them. What was considered polite behavior in company, for instance. It took Bilbo a long time to learn that coming into Bag End and treating it like it was their own home to raid and rearrange was a sign of trust and friendship. It had been jarring and rather touching to know they had come to their ‘burglar’s’ house in the spirit of camaraderie. 

Then there was the importance of hair. Hobbits considered a heavy tuft of curls on one’s feet to be the pinnacle of attraction and sophistication. For dwarves with their hair and beards, it was a little more involved. Braids and beads had different meanings, and they used them to display many different things. Their honor, their duties, even who they were courting. Bilbo was endlessly fascinated to learn about what his friends chose to display to the world. However, it was their physical differences that interested Bilbo the most.

Their big rounded ears. Their broad shoulders and thick torsos. Their height but small dainty feet hidden inside bulky booted monstrosities. However, it was their hands that had caught Bilbo’s attention the most. Or rather, it was the hands of one particular dwarf that Bilbo couldn’t take his eyes off.

Ever since their hug on the Carrock, Bilbo has been overly attuned to Thorin’s hands. He thought about how they nearly encompassed his back when he pulled Bilbo close. He thought about how rough and calloused they were when they grabbed Bilbo’s own to keep him from tripping. He thought about how his own hand had been swallowed completely in his grasp. And even now, watching Thorin redo his braids in the moonlight, he could only focus on how gently they moved. How dexterous they were to make such tight braids with those thick digits. Bilbo felt a shiver travel down his spine.

What he wouldn’t give to have those hands in his own hair. Tracing their way down his ears. Following a path down his front. Complete encasing his…

“Master Baggins? What are you still doing up?”

Bilbo quickly shook himself of such thoughts, resisting the urge to blush like a tween thinking about their crush.

“Nothing! I…couldn’t sleep.” 

Thorin pinned him under his searching gaze. His eyes were so intense and beautiful, it was able to distract Bilbo from thoughts of his hands for the moment. Finally, Thorin curled his head to the side before getting up to walk outside. Bilbo hesitated for only a moment before getting up to follow him.

Thorin sat on the porch, attempting to light his pipe when Bilbo found him. He carefully sat down next to him, leaving a little bit of space between them. Thorin finally got it lit, taking a big inhale before blowing a smoke ring out into the night air. He handed the pipe over to Bilbo almost in challenge, and Bilbo quickly accepted. It was after Bilbo blew his own smoke ring that Thorin asked what troubled him. Bilbo was half tempted to say ‘you’ but pivoted and said something about Azog and the orcs currently on their trail. Thorin hummed along in agreement before he wrapped his warm, dry hand around Bilbo’s own. He could feel a fierce flush overtake him, and when Thorin gave it a small squeeze, Bilbo could swear his heart squeezed along with his hand.

“Your fear is well-founded. I too share the same worries. However, I find comfort in the faith I have in my company. Every single member.”

Bilbo gave him a quick, fleeting smile as he set his other hand on top of their conjoined ones. He traced his way over Thorin’s hairy fingers and knobby knuckles, utterly mesmerized.

“I think having a leader they can believe in gives the company courage.” He half-whispered. 

Thorin suddenly flipped his hand over, and Bilbo looked up making sure what he was doing was still okay. Thorin’s eyes were soft and his gaze imploring. Bilbo ducked his head under so powerful a look and began his new task of tracing all the lines along Thorin’s palm. 

“And I think having members so devoted to a cause not their own gives life to a dream the leader might never have thought possible.”

Bilbo paused in his movements as he slowly brought his gaze back up just as Thorin began to lean down. They met in the middle. A light chaste brush of dry and cracked lips against one another as Thorin’s hand gently traced its way down the side of Bilbo’s face leaving a wake of tingling sensations behind. 

Trick or Treat My Inbox

[thedwarrowscholar]

Hi there, I’m working on a, admittedly ambitious, fic in which Smaug joins the quest for Erebor (it’s a long story) but I was wondering how Smaug would be referred too by the Dwarves of Erebor?

After all, he didn’t exactly *tell* them his name while he was sacking Erebor so I wonder if he would’ve been given a name/title/curse in the meantime? Thank you so much 😊

Well met! An interesting question—though, in all honesty, I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that Smaug joins the Quest for Erebor (seeing as the main motivation behind that quest was, well… killing Smaug and reclaiming the Mountain).

You're absolutely right, though, that Smaug didn’t formally announce himself during the attack on Erebor in T.A. 2770. But even so, the Dwarves of Erebor likely did know his name—not only eventually, but quite possibly even beforehand.

🐉 Was Smaug’s name known?

Yes—almost certainly. Smaug was already considered a feared and known creature by the time of the attack. Though his exact origins are unknown, we know he was called “young” when he first appeared in Middle-earth’s records in T.A. 2770, and described as “old and strong” by T.A. 2941.

Given that the War of the Dwarves and Dragons spanned T.A. 2570–2589, Smaug would very likely have been born near or soon after that conflict—making him at least 180–200 years old at the time of Erebor’s fall. Still “young” by draconic standards. That timing makes it possible that older Dwarves—particularly those displaced from the Grey Mountains—had already heard of him, even if they hadn’t yet fought him directly.

After the sack of Erebor, his name would have spread rapidly. The survivors of Dale called the surrounding wasteland “The Desolation of Smaug”, and Smaug’s own ego ensures he likely proclaimed his name loudly and often. Dragons in Tolkien’s world are shameless self-mythologisers, after all.

The Map of Erebor, clearly indicating the Dragon

🔤 What does Smaug mean?

Tolkien noted that the name Smaug comes from the old Germanic root smugan, “to squeeze through a hole.” This imagery—creeping, coiling, burrowing—suits dragons (or “worms”) perfectly. Earlier drafts of The Hobbit named the dragon Pryftan, a Welsh compound meaning “Worm of Fire.”

Interestingly, Smaug’s name in “true Dalish” was recorded as Trâgu. That root—trah-—is shared with Trahald, the Westron name of Sméagol. Trahald means “apt to creep into a hole”, and all these terms (Smaug, Sméagol, Trahald, Trâgu) are linguistically connected through ideas of sneaking, burrowing, and creeping. Even the Hobbit term smial (meaning “burrow”) belongs to the same semantic family.

🏔️ What would the Dwarves have called him?

As the Dwarves came to know the name Smaug, it’s unlikely they used it freely—and even more unlikely used it without bitterness, or further follow-up curses. Dwarves have a long tradition of bestowing grim titles and bitter epithets upon their enemies, especially those who brought about ruin or dishonour.

We do, in fact, have attested examples from the texts (Neo-Khuzdul translations are further below):

“Old Worm” – used by Balin in The Hobbit

“Worm of Dread” – sung by the Dwarves upon learning of Smaug’s death

“The Dragon” – used in The Quest of Erebor

“Smaug the Golden” – appears in Appendix A

Beyond that, Dwarves would surely have coined their own epithets, depending on context, or degree of loathing. Examples might include:

"The Worm of Fire" – ’Urmu ’Urs

"The Doom of Erebor" – Dumsu ’Urd

"Stonebreaker" – ’Abanukraf

"The Northern Curse" – Aklâfu Faham

"Gold-thief" – Uthrab Kidiz

These wouldn’t necessarily replace his name—but they allowed Dwarves to speak of the dragon without honouring him in any way.

🪓 How would Smaug be rendered in Neo-Khuzdul?

While Dwarves closely guarded their language and carefully chose their moments to utter the names of their enemies, we can still deduce a likely phonological adaptation for Smaug:

Khuzdul does not allow initial consonant clusters like “Sm-”

The diphthong “au” does not exist, and would likely reduce to ô through crasis

A leading “u-” prefix mimics both the personified agent and superlative forms—which Smaug would have loved (let’s be honest)

Given that, the name would most likely be rendered as:

→ Usmôg

As a side note: had they adopted the Dalish name Trâgu, the Khuzdul form might have been Utrâg—but this runs into a semantic issue. The radicals TRG are attested in Khuzdul as referring to “beard.” As such, ‘Utrâg would more likely be interpreted as “greatest beards”, which is far too dignified for a dragon (especially this one), and certainly inappropriate. By contrast, the SMG radicals are unattested, making Usmôg both a cleaner and more fitting adaptation.

💬 Canonical Epithets (and Their Neo-Khuzdul Renderings)

Smaug, of course, had no shortage of titles for himself. In The Hobbit, we encounter several canonical epithets. If rendered in Neo-Khuzdul, they might look like:

Smaug the Golden → Usmôg Biriz (Note: we use Biriz for “golden” here, not Kidzul, which would suggest Smaug is made of gold, rather than merely golden in colour.)

Smaug the Impenetrable → Usmôg Binurzakablânul (lit. Smaug (the) Unpierceable)

Smaug the Terrible → Usmôg Gurud

Old Worm → ‘Urm Gamil

Worm of Dread → ‘Urmu Agrâd

The Dragon → Id-Uslukh or simply Uslukh (related to Urulókë in Quenya, meaning “fire-serpent” or “fire-dragon.”)

In short: yes, the Dwarves knew his name—but they also gave him others. Bitter. Hard-edged. In loss, they named him by what he destroyed, what he stole, and what he became.

Ever at your service, The Dwarrow Scholar

[ebaeschnbliah]

What doom do you bring out of the North?

'The doom of choice,' said Aragorn. 'You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?'

'That you need not pursue them further,' said Éomer. 'The Orcs are destroyed.'

'And our friends?'

'We found none but Orcs.'

'But that is strange indeed,' said Aragorn. 'Did you search the slain? Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind? They would be small. Only children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey.'

'There were no dwarves nor children,' said Éomer. 'We counted all the slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcases and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still.'

'We do not speak of dwarves or children,' said Gimli. 'Our friends were hobbits.'

'Hobbits?' said Éomer. 'And what may they be? It is a strange name.'

'A strange name for a strange folk,' said Gimli. 'But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings.'

'Halflings!' laughed the Rider that stood beside Éomer. 'Halflings! But they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?'

'A man may do both,' said Aragorn. 'For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!'

.....

'Scouts warned me of the orc-host coming down out of the East Wall three nights ago, ' he said. Among them they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. So suspecting what I most fear, a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I led forth my éored, men of my own household; and we overtook the Orcs at nightfall two days ago, near to the borders of the Entwood. There we surrounded them, and gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost, and twelve horses alas! For the Orcs were greater in number than we counted on. Others joined them. coming out of the East across the Great River: their trail is plain to see a little north of this spot. And others, too, came out of the forest. Great Orcs, who also bore the White Hand of Isengard: that kind is stronger and more fell than all others.

'Nonetheless we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. We are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli's axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my land, and I would gladly learn better.'

'I thank you for your fair words,' said Aragorn, 'and my heart desires to come with you; but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains.'

'Hope does not remain,' said Éomer. 'You will not find your friends on the North-borders.'

'Yet my friends are not behind. We found a clear token not far from the East Wall that one at least of them was still alive there. But between the wall and the downs we have found no other trace of them, and no trail has turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me.'

'Then what do you think has become of them?'

'I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Orcs; but that you will say cannot be, and I do not fear it. I can only think that they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such a way?'

'I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them,' said Éomer. 'We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some elvish power.'

'Our friends were attired even as we are,' said Aragorn; 'and you passed us by under the full light of day.'

'I had forgotten that,' said Éomer. 'It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?'

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers,  The Riders of Rohan

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup 1st July - 31st July

As we can tell, im way behind, so it will be a monthly round up until I catch up, and then back to weekly. Especally as I plan to do a mish mosh version of Nano, hoping to write 50,000 words, but finishing as many of my current wips as I can (theres a few)

So, July, I uploaded 8 fics with 19,043 words between them. As aways, recs first and then my fics under the cut <3

The Last to Know - kathkin - The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) (Bilbo/Thorin, its full of fun homour)

Summary: “I think you ought to know,” said Gandalf, “you have eight or nine dwarves courting you.” / "Now, I think I would have noticed!" In which dwarves have a very particular way of courting, Ori thinks Bilbo has a nice bottom, Thorin is an awkward puppy, and Bilbo learns that sometimes actions speak louder than words.

custodial - PenAndInkPrincess - Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types (Geralt/Jaskier)

Summary: Ciri finds Jaskier first and Geralt only comes along later

Jaskier is not handling co-parenting well

A Future Together - Slayer_of_Destiny - Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types (Geralt/Jaskier)

Summary: When Jaskier ends up at Kaer Morhen for the winter, something unexpected happens when he goes into heat, something that only happens when an Omega is around an Alpha they trust, and somewhere they feel safe. The future after this heat is going to change both Jaskier and Geralt's lives forever.

For Better or For Worse - loflight501 - The Witcher (TV) (Geralt/Jaskier)

Summary: King Geralt wants to end the war with Redania, but the only way to do it is to marry the omega son of his hated foe. Prince Jaskier is thrilled to be free of his abusive father, but isn't optimistic about marrying a king with a brutal reputation.

Chiaroscuro - krabapple - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (Sirius/Remus)

Summary: Remus Lupin returns to Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor after the Battle of Hogwarts, and finds a year where he and his students struggle with the leftover contrast between light and darkness.

I hope everyone has a wonderful month and my fics are under the cut as promised <3

I have 8 fics for this month uploaded, I hope you all like at least one.

I love you as you are (Sirius/Remus, written for a prompt for the @marauderswithpalestineproject)

Summary: During the war Bella cursed Sirius, now he is a dog hybird. A dog hybrid who hides it from everyone but Remus and Harry in their home.

Now he is stranded in London with no way to get home.

Don't look into my soul if you just want to steal it (Sirius/Remus, Sirius & Regulus)

Summary: Walburga Black wants a perfect heir. Instead she had one ugly child and one willful one.

She will do what she must to make sure neither boy ruins the Black Legacy. No matter the cost to those involved.

Mahal hear my plea. I'm ready for you to take me home with thee! (Gen fic, Dis & Dwalin)

Summary: Dis has survived the Ring War. Her and Dwalin both.

Both are ready to go to the Hall's of Mahal. Both are old and the only one the other has left.

Dis wants to go home to her family. Will Mahal hear her plea?

Fear is a Sickness:Witchers are the cure (Geralt/Jaksier, wirtten for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt - Fear is a sickness)

Summary: Cirliia is safe, Voleth Meir is gone and yet the surviving Witchers still have to send their fallen brothers off.

So much grief, so much pain, but at least these witchers have a bard to sing them farwell.

Flight of Destiny (Female Sirius/Remus, a fic written for my beloved @brandileigh2003 <3)

Summary: Sirius is finally free of her abusive husband. As a widower she has gone on her first muggle holiday. On the way home she meets the love of her life.

Mahal, Why Have you Forsaken Me? (Gen fic, Dis & her giref)

Summary: Dis is packing up the things of her children's that she will take to Erebor with her. Things they will never need again. Things that are all she has left of them.

Maybe one more, baby? (Sirius/Remus, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt - mybe one more)

Summary: Sirius and Remus are watching their son, Teddy Lupin-Black, as he graduates Hogwarts, their family surrounding them as they do so.

I burn with a smile on my face, for you are safe (Jaskier & Cirilla, unrequented Jaskier/Geralt, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt run fast and far)

Summary: Jaskier found Cirilla first and he will protect her, no matter the cost

[wowstrawberrycow]

Gimolas head canon and drabbles

So I am writing short little blippy drabbles about Gimli and Legolas. I have several ideas that I'm attempting to flesh out as I read the Lord of The Rings books. I am on Return of The King now. I have finished the Hobbit, The Fellowship (more like the Fuckin-ship, am I right???), and The Two Towers in that order. I plan on reading other works too, as well as, reading the appendix of them. Dear gods there's so much 😅. May write for other ships in the fandom too. IDK yet?????

But, point is got some thoughts about these two. I think this is how they would be together when not having to put up a front for fear of judgement. There's a lot. But, tell me what y'all think?

Legolas

Legolas is a They/them. I always got nonbinary vibes from them. But, I don't think they are aware of it yet until they leave their home to discover their truest self. Yes, I think they will play with drag in varying degrees depending on their mood as well.

I think because of his upbringing in the forest, they have had to push down most of not all vulnerability. Thus, being shoved into a world outside of their father's eyes allows them to be more expressive. Hence, why they make some strange facial expressions and behave awkwardly with others. They are essentially learning to become social in ways that matter rather than continuing superficial socialization that they are accustomed to.

In private, when they think no one is looking they embrace sensitivity. Solitude in their mind is a thing of safety to at their softest. Inside they realize just how loving they are of those around them. They easily weep often in private over a variety of things. Over time they realize they are a very emotional person and a very capable warrior. Learning to balance these qualities has become an interesting struggle for them.

once allowed to be themself I imagine them to be snarky and mischievous in affectionate ways. They may even play pranks on you provided that they love you enough. The chaos is strong with them.

They do have a lot of clueless niece moments too. But, they make up for it via their sweet personality and caring energy.

Once they are married the elven way I think the crave it constantly if you know what I mean 😏. In that same vein I think they discover they are not vanilla too.

Gimli

I definitely agree he is BAMF not a clown.

He had a heart of gold and loyal golden retriever boyfriend energy. I think he would do anything to preserve the happiness of his lover and friends. This may actually cause him problems from time to time. The wrong person may take advantage of his selflessness. (Legolas I think is extremely protective of Gimli because of this.)

Because, of his upbringing I think that duty was placed very heavily on him. So, I think, he probably takes that too far. So far that he let it over take his life. Because of this, I think the journey he goes on will help him understand the purpose of why he carries out his duties. Yes I understand he has friends and family but they all I would think live a similar life of duty as well.

The fellowship, might be a little bit of a wake up call for him. Duty without happiness is quite a hollow way to live.

I also picture him to be a hopeless romantic. He's the type to cheese it up just to make his lovie happy. I think he is also the type to only refer to his lover by name if he wants to be serious. So yes, our boy Gimli gives off heavy affectionate vibes in my opinion. Despite popular beliefs that dwarves are rowdy, sweaty, and vulgar all the time; I think Gimli cleans up damn good on his own accord for his lover. He's secretly a perfect gentleman.

[themuseinthewoods]

Daughter of Warriors-Chapter thirty-eight: The snowy pass

(the masterlist)

The snow was thicker than she had ever seen, she was forced to walk behind everyone else, no drawing or painting was happening anymore. Stepping step-for-step in Aragorn's wake, trying not to fall over with the slippery snow. Once or twice she almost fell and Aragorn insisted she walk in front of him so she would not fall off the mountain.

It turned out to be a very good thing when Frodo tumbled backwards and down into Amira who then fell backwards into the fresh cold powdery wet. Amira sighed heavily and began to pull herself up, noticing that Boromir was now approaching Frodo, holding the ring by its chain. 

Scrambling to her feet, Amira placed her hands on the daggers Thorin had given her. She pulled one when Boromir ruffled Frodo’s hair. “Someones on edge.” He smiled at her fondly. “Can we not trust our own company?” He walked away, clearly seeing everything as a joke. Frodo hurried to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist and she wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“You okay?” Frodo asked, concerned about her. Amira put part of her cloak around him, gripping the edge tightly in her cold fists. “I’m fine buddy. You?” “I'm alright.” They stayed like that as they walked farther on, the snow coming down faster and thicker by the hour. Sam and Bill fell to the back, Aragorn and Amira doing their best to shield the two hobbits (and the ponies head) from the worst of the snow, Boromir had Merry and Pippin tucked under his cloak with him.

Amira was freezing, her teeth were chattering so hard she could not speak and she feared biting her tongue if she tried. Every few minutes, violent shivering would overtake her and she was starting to stumble in the snow. From what she could see of Aragorn, he was doing little better, perhaps his gear was better suited as Amira had rarely gone into the mountains during winter, she loved the woods during the season, and so her clothes were perhaps not as strong.

She could barely hear anything other than the roar of the wind and only knew when they were leaving because Aragorn began to guide her and the hobbits to the side so Gandalf could pass. Amira glared at her elven friend, freezing holes into his back as he walked past them, looking unbothered as he floated over the snow. Aragorn caught her gaze with his own, meeting her icy gaze with raised eyebrows and serious eyes. “My time amongst dwarves shows when elves float over snow.”

Aragorn shook his head, he was already fond of the strange habits of this woman of many cultures. They stayed close, even as the snow lessened and the hobbits hurried downwards after Gandalf. “Are you alright lass?” Gimli slowed to walk with the Rangers for a short while. “Once I have regained all the feeling in my limbs I shall be significantly better, Gimli.” The dwarf chuckled and hurried towards the front, hoping to catch a glimpse of Moria first. “I thought the dwarves taught their language to no one.” Legolas was looking at her with great curiosity. “What is your magic?” “Some foolish princes who wanted to see if I could learn their language as easily as I had that of your people my friend.” She spoke very fondly of Fili and Kili and found herself thinking wistfully of her adventure long ago. It had been a simpler time, a simpler adventure (though it had seemed the most dangerous of all adventures at the time).

Aragorn and Legolas caught a glimpse of Amira as she was in the year of her and her fathers adventure, less tired with more joy in her eyes. Legolas recognized this girl and thought with regret and fondness of the time his fathers soldiers carried her in from where she had apparently collapsed at an entrance to the realm where the elves lived, the girl who had spoken to them in her sleep. Speaking in many tongues of Rivendell, the shire, Bjorn the skinchanger, goblins of the misty mountains and of Gandalf the Gray.

(the masterlist)

[myers-meadow]

Azog the Defiler x OC: In which Gandalf learns that Orcs can love

Title: In which Gandalf learns that Orcs can love

Pairing: Azog the Defiler x female OC (Hadewych)

Fandom: The Hobbit movie trilogy

Summary: In this tale we follow the Companionship of Dwarves on a dual mission: reach and reclaim Erebor, and maybe rescue a friend they made in Laketown. The last quest leads to more hardship than expected, as Azog has his sights set firmly on the human, and isn't planning to let the Dwarves take her from him.

Warnings: rape/non-con, Azog is his own warning honestly, character death, non-consensual voyeurism, corruption, (mild) rape aftermath, language barrier.

Wordcount: 2147

Gorgeous dividers by @saradika-graphics

"She should be around here, somewhere," called Fili from over his shoulder, scouting ahead through the thick growth of the forest. It was a forest so thick, only little of the late afternoon sun reached through the trees. Thorin, Kili, Bilbo and Gandalf followed him. They were tired, especially now that their end goal seemed so close, yet so far away. After leaving Laketown, the kind friend of Bard, who sheltered them, followed them with provisions and weapons. That was a week ago. Immediately after she found the companionship of dwarves, they were ambushed by Azog's hunting party, and she was taken.

After five days of captivity, it was Bilbo, with Dwalin and Thorin, who rescued her from the orc camp as they all slept. She wasn't as grateful as they expected however, frightened beyond words. Her fear remained with her, even though she was safely away from the man-eating orcs.

"You don't get it," she said, keeping her voice hushed even while hours away from the site they rescued her from, "he will find me and it will be worse. You've put yourself in danger, too."

The dwarves waved her concerns away, but it gave Bilbo pause. Something felt off. Why would the orcs come for her? They were hunting the dwarves already. Despite his feeling of unease, their journey continued.

Balin convinced her, with his gentle reasoning, to come with them, and not head back: "We are less than four days march away from Erebor. Once we are there, you'll be safe inside. No orc could enter the mountain and live. Laketown is at least a week from here, on horseback. Don't be stupid and get yourself killed trying to go back."

Hope shone in her eyes at his words, a fearful hope. It was decided; she would come with them. Evening fell, and they set up camp. Hadewych remained withdrawn. As they wound down after their meal, which finally got some life back in her face, Gandalf took up his pouch of pipeweed, lighting his pipe. They sat, gathered in a circle around the fire, flames making their shadows dance.

"Hadewych, what happened to you out there?" asked Fili. None had dared ask before, as her panicked state had been enough of an answer. Kili, who sat next to her, moved her braid aside and gestured at the large bitemark on the side of her neck.

"It looked like they tried to eat you," Kili said, sounding somewhat impressed, his tone light. Hadewych slapped his hand away.

"It's beyond you," was all she said.

Gandalf took the pipe out of his mouth, and agreed with her. "Let the poor woman have her rest. We're not there yet. I have a feeling the worst is yet to come."

Later, when just Bilbo and Gandalf remained, unable to sleep, keep watch, did Bilbo dare to ask the wizard more.

"The orcs, they..." he started, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Why did they let Hadewych live? They would've slaughtered any of us as soon as they had the chance."

Gandalf, old eyes peering from beneath his wizard's hat, replied: "Hmm, it is certainly curious. I suspect we’ll find out soon enough, although I fear it won't be pleasant."

After a short silence, as the moon's rays illuminated the rocky landscape, he continued. "There isn't much we know about orc culture. So far, Azog has proven to be at the top of his tribe, with not just bloodlust, but also a great strategic mind. He's smart, Bilbo, that's what makes him more dangerous than most."

"You're saying he took her for a strategic purpose? But what on earth could that be?"

Gandalf shrugged, movements slow. "You should get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day."

In the morning as they set out on their journey, Hadewych found Gandalf and fell into step next to him.

"Gandalf," Hadewych started, uncertainty in her voice, unsure of how to ask what she had on her mind.

"Yes, my dear, what is it?"

"Do you know Black Speech?"

"What a curious question. I do understand it, yes. It is a vile language, created by Sauron and I prefer not speaking it."

"I understand if it's too much to ask, but could you maybe teach me? Every little bit would be a great help."

Gandalf halted and turned to her. His eyes bore into her soul and she sensed that he knew and understood a great deal more than any of the companions, more than even the wizard let on. "There may be a way to teach you that will help you more than simply translating words. You've tried it already, haven't you? To let the pale orc teach you."

Unsure, but aware that lies were useless, she nodded. "All I've managed to parse out are a few different words, and that's hardly enough to understand what they say. The dwarves may think I'm safe now, but they don't understand." She adjusted her cloak and hugged it around her. "It's only a matter of time before I'm surrounded by orcs again, and I need to know what they say - to know what is coming."

The wizard hummed. "I see." He paused and regarded her for a long moment. The companions walked on ahead, but it was no matter. They could catch up with ease, if needed. Then he nodded and grabbed his staff. "Then we shall see what we can do."

Another day passed, and Gandalf allowed Hadewych to learn and practice Black Speech. She had little trouble with it, aside from the grammar. During the second morning, she felt a bit more at ease and her normal self returned, and she joked with the dwarves the same as she did while they were in Laketown. Bilbo still eyed her warily - to him, the mystery of her behaviour was not yet solved.

Once they got going, the terrain opened up in front of them, and it gained in height. It would truly only be three more days until they reached their beloved mountain. The hunting party ambushed them from the side, driving them back with a cliff at their side. It was the worst possible road to be ambushed on, and even though Thorin sent Fili and Kili ahead as scouts, they hadn't seen nor heard a thing. Thorin barely escaped with his life. Hadewych wasn't so lucky, as she was slung over their leader's shoulder, defenceless without the weapons or skill the dwarves had. The dwarves hid in the mountains, and the hunting party took off just as swiftly as they came, disappearing into a thick forest, taking Hadewych with them.

Evening fell. The dwarves licked their wounds and regrouped properly that night, and discussed what they could do. Many seemed in favour of continuing their original quest, and not taking the risk of going after the hunting party.

"Is Hadewych not also one of our own?" argued Bilbo. "She went through the trouble to bring us the weapons and provisions, without her we would've been defenceless."

"That's just how it goes, laddie," said Dwalin. "She knew the risks when coming with us."

Bilbo, outraged, looked to the others.

Balin answered. "Aye... But we've been the ones who convinced her not to go back to Laketown. That Erebor would be safer."

"No way she could've reached Laketown on her own anyway," said Gloin, his voice rumbling.

"Perhaps, but a group is easier to track than a woman alone."

"We failed to protect her," agreed Kili. "We can look for her, just a few of us. The rest heads on to the mountain. With just a few, we won’t be easily noticed."

And so it was that now the few of them who went to track the hunting party down; Gandalf and Bilbo came with, out of concern, Thorin and his cousins Fili and Kili; laid low in a bed of ferns, hidden behind bushes and trees, looking on as the orcs set up camp for the night. The pale orc towered over them all. He fed his warg and pet her fur, Hadewych close at his side, one hand in the warg's fur just like him. Kili wanted to creep closer, but was stopped by Thorin.

"So this is why she wanted to learn Black Speech," said Gandalf, which the dwarves paid little mind to. Bilbo looked at his wizard friend with curious eyes. They exchanged looks, and with his voice soft, Gandalf pointed at the scene. "They seem to be talking."

"He's laughing," said Bilbo, surprised. "Gandalf, don't tell me they've become friends."

They watched as Azog lead Hadewych to the campfire, a firm hand on her upper arm. Once seated, keeping her close to him, although it was difficult for them to see, he reached for the grilled meat, steaming in the cold evening air, and took a large bite out of it. The orcs dug in similarly, feeding on what was probably small game they've hunted, or dried food they took with them. Then the pale orc did something Bilbo nor the wizard saw coming. With the dead animal speared on his hooked hand, he plucked off bits of tender meat, and fed them to Hadewych. After letting her eat it right from his hand, he licked off his fingers.

"I'd say she's still deadly afraid of him, not to speak of the other orcs around. Wouldn't you agree?"

"But an orc wouldn't hear reason! Do you really think she talked him into letting her live?"

"That seems... unlikely," said Gandalf, his voice falling grim.

Thorin decided to wait until night fell and everyone was asleep to attack, so they did. The orcs laid down to sleep not long after, leaving just two who kept watch awake, as well as the pale orc and Hadewych. When they got up to rest, they did so on the other side of the mighty white warg, and Hadewych pet her fur as Azog gathered the blanket and mat from a nearby pack. When he spoke to her, his voice was low, unexpected of an orc to speak so gently. The dwarves spread out, trying to scout out the area more now that they had less eyes on them and less ears to listen. Bilbo stayed with Gandalf, leaned against a tree, waiting for the others to regroup. Their friend and her captor had now finally laid down and all was quiet.

"It's taking so long," complained Kili. "When will they go to sleep already."

"Patience," bid Thorin, reigning his cousin in.

They regrouped at their spot, Thorin directed everyone to their positions. When Bilbo glanced over at the sleeping forms of his friend and her captor, he found a rather odd sight. It wasn't immediately clear what he was looking at, as Azog hovered above the ground, facing down, and moved his body rhythmically. Not like someone who is sleeping. Not like someone turning around in their sleep. Bilbo grabbed Thorin by the arm, wordless, and pointed. Then, staring hard through the ferns, he they saw Azog sit straighter up and pulled a leg - a human leg - to his side, changing the angle of his hips. Then his movements made sense. Hadewych laid underneath him, and he moved his hips, grinning sadistically down at her, low rumbles spilling from his throat as he fucked her.

The dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf looked on, forgetting their cover, and stared at the scene in front of them with mouths open in shock. Kili pulled Thorin aside.

"I'm not risking my life for that," he said harshly, voice a little louder than it should've been in the quiet of the night.

Gandalf opened his mouth to say something, but refrained from interfering.

"What is happening, Gandalf, why is this happening?" asked Bilbo, who didn't want to look on, but couldn't tear his eyes away for longer than a second. The pale orc leaned down again, over his captive, and said something to her. The rasp of the Black Speech sounded almost doting. As the dwarves tried to figure out what to do - leave or attack - Gandalf observed the scene and thought of how to answer the hobbit. As he did, the orc snarled, and grabbed his captive close, ripped the fabric away from her shoulder, and bit down.

"It is what it looks like, my friend; Azog has claimed a mate."

Unfortunately for the unobservant dwarves, the pale orc had a short recovery time, and was on his feet within the minute. Quiet as a panther he moved through the thicket. He called out to Thorin, voice loud enough to wake the rest of the hunting party, and the dwarves were outnumbered quick. Hadewych looked on from the sidelines, leaning her back against the white warg, face in her hands, trying to ignore the screams of pain and sorrow as the line of Durin ended before her eyes.

[quiet-art-kid]

some Httyd (book) au ideas

Bonfire au

Fishlegs gets tired of being treated like trash and sets Berk on fire as revenge 

ghosts au

The ghosts of Hiccup 1, Hiccup 2 and Termagant are keeping watch over the adventures and doing whatever they can to help 

Golden au

Hiccup decides to claim the treasure of Grimbeard immediately, becoming fabulously wealthy but also more vain, greedy and unempethetic in the process. 

Dragonmarksist au 

The loss of dragons when the jewel is broken by king Alvin upsets the balance of the ecosystem causing a famine, which allows Hiccup to cause a communist revolution, and install a dictatorship with him at the forefront 

Feral au 

Hiccup in his outcast days grows more resentful towards humanity, eventually joining with furious to destroy them. 

Cult au

After being kicked out of the tribe at only ten, Hiccup has to find a way to survive. Luckily for him, he still has his wits, and using them he is able to get the other viking boys to worship him as a false god.

zombie au 

The dragon Jewel is broken, but instead of killing the dragon, it turns them into zombies. 

new world au 

Hiccup makes it to america and spends some time exploring the geography, learning the languages and studying the native dragons before heading back to a devastating surprise. 

possession au 

Snotlout is possessed by the ghost of Thugheart. 

Valhalla au 

Hiccup low-key dies, but is having none of it, so instead he straight up fights god and wins. 

happily ever after au 

Snotout doesn’t throw the stone and everything works out well without a war. (Wouldn’t that be nice) 

reborn au

Hiccup the third is literally the reincarnation soul of the previous two Hiccups 

Mob au 

Hiccup may not be very strong, but he is good at organization and leadership…organizing and leading a crime ring that is. Remember just because Hiccup is a bit more proper, polite and intelligent than the other Vikings, doesn’t make him any less violent. 

interview au 

Grimbeard is curst to wander the Tomorrow as a ghost, this is however excellent for Hiccup, as he can get useful information out of him. 

rose-red rage au

Due to stress and fear caused by the war, Hiccup slips into a coma, finding himself in a strange, distorted, wonderlandish versions of his reality. 

erased  au 

Hiccup does not regain his memory after losing it in book 12. 

Hurricane au

Hiccup gains the ability to control the weather, so you’d better watch out. 

lucid au 

Everything Hiccup has ever experienced, has all been part of some long dream, only he is not the one sleeping. 

Tall-tale au 

In his old age, Hiccup ended up getting a lot of facts about his childhood wrong. The true story ends up looking a lot different. 

shapeshifter au 

Is he a boy, or is he a dragon? The answer is both. Hiccup can shape shift.

Hobbit au. 

Hiccup is enlisted by some dwarves to help deal with a dragon named Smaug. 

Last choice au

After the deaths of both Hiccup and Alvin, Fishlegs becomes King (he is a direct descendant of grimbeard after all)

Third choice au

Similar to last choice au, but it is Snotlout who becomes king. 

swap au

Alvin really is a poor but honest farmer, Hiccup is a little psychopath, Fishlegs is his stonecold and music hating right hand man, Stoick is mild mannered and shy, Snotlout is a kind hearted pacifist, Old wrinkly and the witch’s roles are basically reversed, Exeter.   

star au

Fishlegs tries out being a bard, he ends up being a huge success and becomes a famous celebrity 

ballet au

Hiccup’s father told him that he has to pick out a sport, and Hiccup already has something in mind, his father never did specify which sport…

Robbin hood au

“Rob from the rich, give to the poor!” has been the moto of Hiccup and his friends for as long as they can remember.

Outcast au

After being exiled from berk Hiccup finds himself in the island of the outcasts. He ends up being adopted by Alvin, after proving he is willing to do whatever it takes to survive…

Hanahaki au 

Camicazi loves Hiccup with all her heart, unfortunately to Hiccup, she will only ever be a friend.

Band au

Fishlegs, Hiccup and Camicazi start a band. That’s it, that’s the au. 

Angle au

Hiccup is born with a pair of feathered wings that nobody can explain. 

mermaid, faerie, princess au

Hiccup is the princess, Camicazi is the faerie and Fishlegs is the mermaid 

Slavic au 

Literally the exact same thing as the original story, but instead of being nordic it’s slavic. The (I’m Slavic so don’t blame me for wanting this)

Forlorn 

The ghosts of exiled children past are back…for revenge 

[porphyriosao3]

Day 4 - Crown

Bilbo stared down into the box, completely at a loss for words. "Well?" came Dis' growling voice from where she stood, shifting from foot to foot. "Will it do?" Thorin stood nearby, glaring at her, at Bilbo, and seemingly at the world in general.

"Do?" the hobbit replied faintly. In the velvet-lined box lay a crown, and oh, such a crown! It was based around the angular designs so beloved by the dwarves, short bladed walls rising about the central space and enameled the same green as the granite of Erebor. Simple enough, though the gold showed through in both decorative lines and seams like gold veins. Shocking in a dwarven crown, though, was the flowers. Wrapping around the base, as though growing on a vine or braided into a wreath, were flowers. Exactly the same ones a hobbit might choose, at that.

As if in a daze, Bilbo touched each of them in turn... hyacinth and oak, speaking of majesty and rank, the gladiolus of strength next to the rosemary of wisdom. Each flower was made in such a way Bilbo was afraid to touch it, fearing to damage the delicate petals. Each time his fingers met cold enameled metal was a slight surprise. Turning it round to the back, Bilbo spotted a red rose beside and acorn, and just like that he was teary.

"Give it back," Thorin said shortly. "He hates it. He's crying, Dis; what have you done?" It was all Bilbo could do to shake his head vehemently, swallowing the thickness in his throat so he could speak.

"It's... beautiful," Bilbo choked out, "I love it." Dis scowled and whirled on Thorin, smacking him in the shoulder, though the hobbit could see the flush on her face. "It's a masterwork. I see why Thorin wanted you to make it, and it will be an honor to wear it, Dis, really."

"Think nothing of it," she grumped, still glaring at Thorin, but the flush on her cheeks grew stronger. "All know my brother is handy with a hammer, but he's useless with a burin and jeweler's tools." By this point Bilbo was learning the social rules of dwarven interaction, so he knew better than to offer any form of direct trade.

Face like a thundercloud, Thorin bustled forward. "Don't feel you need to save her feelings," he muttered. "If you don't like it..."

"Oh Thorin, don't be ridiculous," Bilbo sighed. "It's magnificent and you know it." He didn't mind a bit of jealousy from his husband; dwarves were known for it. But this was his bloody sister! Speaking of dwarven ways, time to test his knowledge of social protocols. "I'll cherish it, and I'm in your debt." With that, the matter was closed according to the dwarves. Later, when Bilbo happened to mention "Dis... I just realized, you never told me what your favorite foods were!" both dwarves seemed to take it as a normal topic of hobbity conversation. Soon she would find out the benefits of a grateful hobbit.

[mithrilhearts]

For the fanfic asks, my favourite fanfic of yours is and always will be Dragonhearted, with may your forge burn bright coming a close second.

Thank you!!! I'm really glad you enjoy these stories :) These two are the originals that really got me into fic writing, so they have a very special place in my heart 💖

Dragonhearted

Thorin lives a life of solitude since Smaug’s curse fell upon Erebor. That is, until a brave hobbit turns the mountain upside down with little fear of Thorin’s snarls, scales and enchanted company, and learns to love a beast.

May Your Forge Burn Bright

Thorin labors as a blacksmith within the world of men to support his family and the other displaced dwarves of Erebor. Change comes to his monotonous routine when the smithy he works in unexpectedly comes under a hobbit’s management.