#fíli fanfic

[mikathemonster]

"ashes to ashes"

author's note: Wow! This is so crazy, y'all. It was an absolute crazy ride collaborating for this year's THAUC event, and I can't believe @spinehandbag and I actually got it done! Between university and the craziness of both of our lives, we really created an awesome story that I can't believe we get to share with you all. I'll be sure to link spine's artwork for this piece the moment they post it on Tumblr :)

Pairing: Fíli / Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 21,440

summary: When Y/N is put into grave danger after their father's foolish deeds, Gandalf brings them to Erebor to seek refuge. With their whole life turned upside down, they have to learn to navigate a new way of living while a price is placed on their head.

content warnings: violence, blood, alcohol, injuries, angst, it's just a lot of sad shit

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. All we have is each other’s trust.”

You had known this creed since you were a babe; your mother was the first person to teach it to you, explaining the importance of your family and heritage. It sounded like a nursery rhyme to you: a fun little tune to hum to yourself. But you knew better now.

Thirty years. That’s how long your father had been serving the Steward of Gondor as an advisor. In all that time, he had helped so many people. He had secured a good life for your mother and yourself, high among the nobles of Gondor. He had provided so much for you two, even going so far as to enroll you alongside the highest scholars money could buy. It was from these tutors that you learned to harness your passion for painting and art.

Five years. That’s how long he had been driving your family into debt, unbeknownst to you. But it didn’t take you long to figure out that something was amiss, even if you weren’t sure what it was; your mother’s hushed whispers when she would fight with your father were more than enough fuel to the crackling fire of your family’s ails. It seemed your father’s position was the only thing that kept your family afloat, but that did little to calm the nerves of your parents these days. Your home life had become rather tense, prompting you to wander the city more often than you were with your parents.

Three days. That’s how long you had been traveling for, the rain pelting down on you and your travel companion as you made your way north of Gondor. Your partner, an old fellow dressed in gray with a strangely shaped hat, became known to you as Gandalf. You had only been acquainted with him for a few days, beginning when he showed up on your family’s doorstep, a melancholy presence about him. You hadn’t understood the situation back then; you were still trying to wrap your head around it now.

It had been a quiet night in your home when he arrived, bringing a sharp knock to your door that your father answered to. As soon as your father saw him, something shifted in the air. You had never seen your father so vulnerable before; even in his mistakes, he was too proud to admit defeat. Gandalf had invited himself into the parlor, speaking quietly to your mother and father while the fire in the hearth crackled on. Peering through the door, you had tried to eavesdrop, but your mother’s soft sobs were enough to let you know the severity of your circumstances.

Your father, in his efforts to right his wrongs, was now in debt to several people he had loaned from, all of which came from notoriously criminal backgrounds. Even in his effort to make things right, all he had made were enemies. As collateral now, it had come to Gandalf’s attention that the man your father was the most indebted to had placed a bounty on your head as incentive. Your life now hung in the balance because of your father’s selfish thinking. It was either your head or your father’s debt.

You hated your father for bringing this upon your family. You hated that you now had to travel with this old and beaten-down wizard to somewhere unknown simply for the sake of your safety. And worst of all, you hated that when it came time to say your goodbyes, your mother and father hadn’t even given you the courtesy of explaining just how fucked up life would be for you starting now. Your mother was too grieved, and your father was too proud.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. All we have is each other’s trust.”

None of that rang true in your heart anymore; your family’s creed meant nothing to you. You couldn’t trust the people who had raised you anymore and you barely even knew this gray man who led your journey. But for now, even despite your wishes, Gandalf was all you had.

He was the only one who had given you the common kindness to explain what was going on. According to him, the man who had placed a bounty on you operated out of Gondor, meaning that your home was no longer a safe space. Without explaining why, Gandalf told you that if your assassination were to prove successful, it would mean an all-out war within Gondor. You had never thought your life would hold so much weight; you were a noble, but you kept to yourself when it came to society. Though you didn’t appreciate the morbid thought, surely your death would mean very little to the infrastructure of such a mighty city as Minas Tirith?

But Gandalf thought otherwise and strongly enough to lead you farther north than you had ever been: past the Brown Lands and trailing along the outskirts of Mirkwood, now following the path of the River Running. Many times in your journey, you asked him where you were headed, the toil of the path wearing you down.

“To Erebor, my dear Y/N,” he had spoken. “There’s a king there who owes me quite the favor.”

Two and a half months had passed by and at last, you were in Erebor. Deep and dark stone walls welcomed you inside as Gandalf brought you into the dwarven kingdom, but you felt no emotion other than dread. You knew very well that this would have to become your new home; Gandalf had informed you many times that this was the safest place you could hide. As long as you resided here, none of your father’s enemies could find you. But even within the brilliant glittering caverns of Erebor, you felt lonely. You couldn’t call this foreign place your home, but you knew Gondor would never be fit to have you again.

Gandalf, however, could never have been more welcomed to your eyes. Almost every person here knew his name and face, many of whom attempted to stop and chat with him. How long was he staying? Had he met with Thorin yet? When would he be leaving? Would they see another grand show of fireworks?

That last question was asked the most, which made it the most confusing to you. In your eyes, he was simply a graying man with too much wisdom (but not enough to share) and a love for smoking his pipeweed. 

Gandalf didn’t seem to have much time for these questions though, often explaining that he had matters with the king to discuss. Matters that involved you, you presumed. And that explanation was all it took for dwarrows to stop their conversations and let you through. It was a small but comforting sentiment you appreciated.

At last, they found themselves in the council room. A long table, surrounded by chairs, ran down the middle. At the head of the table was a seat a little more grand with the crown of Durin carved into the top. The room expertly blended the natural beauty of the rock with the bold geometric patterns of dwarven architecture. But while this was all breathtaking, it only heightened your anxieties, unsure of what would happen once the king arrived. 

You had heard of this king, Thorin Oakenshield. Armed with his father’s secret key, he and his men had driven Smaug out of Erebor and reclaimed the kingdom for their brethren five years ago. Everyone in Middle-Earth knew of this tale. It was said to have been an impossible task. But the dwarves of Erebor were strong in might and in will; that much you understood. 

“What’s going to happen to me now?” You asked in the silence of the hall, interrupting Gandalf as he smoked his pipe. He seemed to be at much more ease than he had been on the journey. 

“I can persuade Thorin to let you reside here,” he puffed. “No man from Gondor would think to step foot in these halls so soon after a dragon’s demise. It will buy you time for now.”

“How long am I to stay here?” Your voice seemed to echo in the empty room.

Gandalf frowned, setting his pipe down. “That I am unsure of.”

You kept your gaze fixed on the table, holding back quiet tears. If you spoke again, you were sure you’d start crying. You didn’t want to be seen crying in front of the king or anyone else for that matter. This was your new reality now. You would have to live amongst the dwarven warriors and craftsmen of Erebor.

Gandalf leaned in, sensing your distress. “Keep a strong will, Y/N. These people will help, I’m sure.”

The oak doors of the conference hall creaked open and your attention was soon fixated on the four figures that made their way inside, seating themselves at the table. 

Leading the way was Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. He took his place in the ornate chair at the head of the table, facing Gandalf who sat across from him. His dark hair held streaks of silver that hinted at his age and strength, and the multitude of furs decorating his body simply showed off his regal status. He was an intimidating presence.

Behind him entered an older dwarf, whose white hair grew so long it seemed to touch the floor. He kept himself close to Thorin, standing behind his chair.

And lastly entered two younger dwarves, though their age seemed to defy the battle-worn glint in their eyes. Surely these two were the princes Gandalf had mentioned on your journey.

“Gandalf, you old sod!” The white-haired dwarf smiled. “How long has it been now?”

“Gandalf!” The brown-haired prince grinned. “We thought we’d never see you again!”

“Too long, Balin. And Kíli, you look well.” The wizard replied, earning a gruff hum from Thorin.

“Too long, indeed.” He spoke, his voice deep and rich as it echoed in the room. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure of how to feel with such an authoritative aura emanating from the king. “Why have you come now?”

It seemed the conversation was moving straight to business. 

Gandalf took one last puff from his pipe before he put out the embers within. “I need your help.”

Thorin raised a brow, curious. “What could the Gray Wizard need that I could possibly give him?”

“Refuge, Thorin.” Gandalf said. “That is what I seek.”

“Who’s after you?” Balin asked, concern lacing his brow.

Gandalf shook his head. “Not for me, I’m afraid.” He turned to you, now introducing you to the group.

“This is Y/N. They’ve been my companion for a short time now as I have come in the hopes you will provide them refuge.”

“Refuge?” The blond-haired prince now spoke up. “From who?”

“Nobody of concern to you, I can assure you,” Gandalf said, but Thorin seemed displeased.

“You ask me to provide protection for someone we don’t know,” he said. “And you can’t give us the courtesy of knowing who their enemy is?”

“He’s a very powerful man who wouldn’t think to step foot on your mountain, Thorin Oakenshield. He’s of no danger to you.” Gandalf frowned, getting upset with the King’s stubborn nature. 

This meeting was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment; you wished you could melt into your seat and disappear. Hadn’t Gandalf said the king owed him a favor? Why were you being met with such hostility? Why wouldn't Gandalf tell the King who was after you? These were the questions flooding your mind as you kept quiet to save your own skin.

“Five years, Gandalf.” The king began. “That’s how long our doors have been open to my people and the Men of Dale. In that time, we’ve been rebuilding everything that the dragon took from us. Our families have only just begun to heal. And amongst all this, you now ask me to harbor a foreign fugitive within our walls–”

“They are no fugitive!” Gandalf stood up abruptly, causing you to jump in your seat as suddenly it felt as though all of the lights went out, creating a harrowing shadow over the gray wizard. And just as quickly as the darkness had come, it left.

Gandalf drew a breath. “They’ve done nothing wrong. They’re a friend.” 

“Thorin,” Balin whispered. “It would be wise to help the fellow out. Think of all Gandalf has done for us.”

Thorin Oakenshield sat silently, staring down Gandalf with an unreadable expression. The princes looked to the king, biting their own tongues as the silence hung in the air. No matter what would happen, they would stand with their uncle. Gandalf was a friend, but the king was right; Erebor had bigger priorities right now.

Feeling quite small, you brought your gaze back to the marble cut table. Your life hung in the balance with this decision, and yet it felt as though it had already ended; the tension in the room tightened around your throat like a noose. What good would a hostile refuge be in the face of death?

Gandalf held his position, staring down Thorin intently. You knew nothing of their history, but already it seemed that they were quite similar in their stubborn nature. And after a pause that felt like a lifetime, the King finally spoke.

“Three months.” He nodded. “And then I want them gone.”

“Now, Thorin–” Gandalf interjected, but was shushed by the King’s raised hand.

“We will provide them refuge for three months. And in that time, a bodyguard will be assigned to them; I’ll have them taught how to fight and fend for themself.” He turned to you, his piercing gaze bringing you away from the marble. “You won’t get far in the wild without those skills.”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “And then what?”

“And then I want them gone.” Thorin spoke. “You helped me once, Gandalf, but I have a kingdom to protect now. A home to rebuild.I have little time to deal with the affairs of men. This is as much as I can offer as repayment. Do we have a deal?”

Gandalf frowned at this, seeming displeased in the terms and conditions of protecting your life. Three months was such a short span of time for the wizard; he was unsure if it would even be enough time to provide you ample protection. You almost hoped he would rescind the offer, not feeling very welcomed by the dwarrow’s hostility.

“It is agreed,” Gandalf nodded. And so it was set. You would spend the next three months hiding in Erebor from an enemy you didn’t even have a name to associate with. An enemy whose secrecy seemed protected by Gandalf. 

Thorin stood with the two princes and Balin, all who pushed their seats back in. “Y/N, I shall leave Fíli here to show you to your quarters. Do not hesitate to ask him any questions you may have. Gandalf, I pray you will find ample hospitality for the duration of your stay.”

And then they were gone, leaving you alone with Gandalf once more. Fíli, who you now recognized as the blonde-haired prince, stood silently outside of the room.

And just as they all left, you broke down into tears. Your voice cracked with sobs as your new reality finally began to set in for you. Gandalf walked over to you, lending a comforting hand on your shoulder as you let it all out. All the stress and anxiety and panic from the last two and half months culminated inside you, and it seemed this decision the King had made was the moment that finally broke you. 

“I can never go home, can I?” You cried, your voice cracking. 

“No, I’m afraid not.” Gandalf shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder in an effort to console you. “Not for now, at least.”

You sobbed, your hands wiping away tears which were quickly being refreshed. “Then when?”

Gandalf paused for a moment, thinking. “I shall ride for Gondor at first light. I can assure you, dear Y/N, that I won’t rest until I help your father to find these men. But until that happens,” he crouched down to meet you at eye level. “You must accept that this is your new life now. And it won’t be easy.”

“I think I need to be alone,” you spoke softly, your head in your hands. You felt Gandalf’s hand leave your shoulder, hearing the door shut shortly after. Tears continued to fall from your eyes, staining your clothes and wetting your skin in your despair. For the first time in your entire journey, you let everything out.

You hated all of this. You hated Thorin’s stubborn and hostile speaking. You hated that Gandalf refused to tell you the full picture. And most of all, you hated that you felt like you had to build yourself back up from the ground up. It was as if in all of this mess, you had lost a sense of who you were. And you hated that, too.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. In times of change, one must adjust.”

It felt silly having a parody of your family creed bounce around in your mind, but it seemed to be the only calming thought that aided in grounding you back to your senses. A makeshift phrase to fit your situation. Minutes passed by as you finally finished your weeping and tried to wipe away the evidence on your face, only to be interrupted by a soft knocking on the oak doors.

“Just a moment.” Your voice came out a little strained, answering the knocks as if you lived here. You scoffed at the irony.

Pulling yourself together, you sighed at the state of your tear-stained clothes and puffy eyes. If the prince hadn’t known you were crying, it would surely be obvious now. But you were beyond caring right now, too focused on staying calm. You opened the oak doors, shuffling back into the main hall where the prince stood.

“Is everything alright?” He sounded concerned. You sighed.

“As fine as I can be, for now,” you spoke. He nodded in understanding, quickly moving the conversation along.

“I’ll show you your quarters, if you’re willing.” His voice was like crushed velvet and pleasing to the ears. He kept it soft, which was a nice change of pace from Thorin and Gandalf’s hostile tones.

“Please, lead the way,” you gestured ahead of yourself, obediently following behind him as he led you through the twists and turns of the city. There wasn’t much else you could do, given your current state.

Minutes later, you were sitting in your new lodgings for the next three months. It was similar in design to the halls and rooms you had already seen, full of deep golden accents and dwarven motifs carved into the walls. You were silently thankful that it was furnished, taking note of the solid oak nightstand that stood next to your canopy bed, the posts of which were carved down from the ceiling. Candles lit the room well for your eyes, and if you weren’t in such a dreaded state, you would’ve commented on the room’s majesty. 

“Is it to your liking?” The blonde prince asked, and you turned around to meet his gaze again. 

“Yes, thank you,” you said. 

“I can bring some more linens and blankets by later tonight,” he gestured to the bed, which only had a single sheet covering it. “We’re not too used to holding guests here, not with the construction going on.” He spoke with a kind but matter-of-fact tone. 

“That would be nice,” you nodded, your mind not fully focused on the conversation. 

“My uncle will have your guard issued to you within the night,” he continued. “You can refer any of your questions to them, unless you have any you’d like to ask now?”

You looked down at your clothes, noting how sullied they were from your long journey. You had only packed one extra set and those too were soiled. “I don’t suppose it would be too much to ask for some new clothes?”

The prince nodded. “I’ll be sure to put an order in when I retrieve your linens. Is that all?”

You wanted to inquire about bathing as well, not caring for the way that your sweat and dirt clung to your skin. But you held your tongue, opting to ask someone in the morning. For now, the small wash basin in your room would help.

You shook your head. “I suppose so. Thank you…?”

You realized you didn’t know his name. You knew the King had mentioned it earlier, but it seemed that in your distress you couldn’t remember. Luckily, he seemed to understand you. 

“Fíli,” he bowed. “At your service.”

“Fíli, yes,” you mused. “Thank you, Fíli.”

He gave a small smile at your thanks. “I’ll be off, then.” 

You nodded in acknowledgment, watching as he left your doorway and disappeared down the vast hallway. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your lips, and you looked back at your room to accustom yourself to your new surroundings. 

On the other end of your room was a solid oak chest for storage, seated next to a tall candelabra that stood tall like a coat hanger. In the corner was a small washing basin to rinse your face or cleanse your hands. Lastly, the floor was covered in furs that protected your feet from the cold stone floors. You wondered what a royal bedroom looked like in this city; you’d like to compare them out of curiosity. 

Now forced to face the silence as you awaited your guard to greet you (or Fíli to return with more blankets), you collapsed onto your new bed, the ache in your body calling to you after the day’s long events. It had been so long since you had slept in a proper bed; there had been very few inns along the length of your journey with Gandalf. 

Your mind wandered to thoughts about the gray wizard. Who was he, really? You had never heard of Gandalf the Gray, but his presence was certainly known to your father. You could still remember the pale look in his eyes when he opened the doors to that strange man over two months ago; you had never seen your father so spooked in all your years. 

And then there was the matter of the bounty on your head. Who was the man responsible? And why had he chosen you rather than your father for such a cruel fate? You reckoned it was to act as incentive, urging your father to pay his debt faster. There was no use in asking Gandalf for the truth; you doubted he would be willing to share after putting up a wall to Thorin’s questions. But even these small speculations didn’t calm your nerves. 

The sound of running footsteps snapped you out of your reverie as you pushed yourself out of your bed to peer out of your still-open doorway. To your surprise, the brown-haired prince from before seemed to be bolting after a much-older dwarf who looked supremely unhappy.

The new dwarf was taller (though that wasn’t saying much) and stockier, his muscles littered with scars and tattoos that showed off his strength and his background. His tattooed head had been recently shaved, and his beard had been braided into his sideburns to make way for what seemed like a permanent scowl on his face.

You quickly disappeared from your doorway, out of sight as you listened in on their conversation.

“Dwalin, wait!” The young prince called after him, desperation laced in his tone. “You know that I can’t possibly do it!”

“I shan’t be summoned for something asinine like babysitting, Kíli.” The older dwarf, Dwalin, grunted. “Don’t bother with your uncle, I’ll tell him myself.”

“Well then who’s supposed to keep watch? It’s only for three months!” Kíli laughed as he spoke but it didn’t seem out of humor.

“Aye, and three months too long, for my tastes,” Dwalin huffed, his footsteps now passing by your door. “Have your brother do it, or Ori. The lad’s old enough for something like this now.”

“Ori?” Kíli scoffed in disbelief. “He might have fought a dragon, but he’s no bodyguard.” His pace quickened, passing your door shortly after. “Why do you think Thorin chose you?”

“I don’t care to know, I’m telling him my mind.” Dwalin held firm in his tone. “If you can’t do it, then find someone else and make it their problem. We’ve got too much to do these days and I won’t waste it on some stupid task like this.”

Dwalin continued on but you could hear Kíli stop in his tracks as he let out a frustrated groan. Your stomach turned at the idea of having someone like Dwalin be your bodyguard, and silently thanked the gods that he refused you. Anyone with an attitude like that wouldn’t make you feel very safe, that’s for sure.

You began slowly closing your door, not wanting to eavesdrop any longer when you heard a new set of footsteps that were coming from where Kíli and Dwalin had just been. You halted in your movement, not wanting the newcomer to notice your door shutting. You hid behind your door now, listening again, mentally scolding yourself for this childish behavior. 

Kíli gasped. “Oh, you won’t believe how good you are with timing, brother!” His footsteps passed by your door once again, heading towards the other person, who you now knew was Fíli. You figured he had returned to bring you the blankets. 

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckled. “What are you getting at?” His footsteps halted and you assumed they were standing in the middle of the hall now. 

“Dwalin won’t do it.” Kíli said. 

“And what exactly won’t he do?” Fíli asked for clarification. 

“Thorin assigned him to be the bodyguard for the noble from earlier; he flat out refused.” Kíli huffed, annoyed. 

Fíli paused, thinking. “Does Uncle know about this?”

“He will soon at the rate Dwalin was stomping away. He tried to push it off onto me!” Kíli spoke the last part in a hushed whisper, as if he had taken personal offense.

“And I’m assuming you declined?” 

“I haven’t got the time, you know me.” Kíli scoffed. “Dwalin said to have you or Ori be put to the task.”

“Ori?” Fíli laughed. “The lad’s too busy restoring our records. Besides, he’s better armed with a pen than a sword—“

“Exactly what I said, more or less. You’d be a fine candidate, though.” You could hear the cheeky tone in the younger prince’s voice as he tried to push the task onto his brother’s plate.

“You jest, brother.” Fíli was not amused.

“I do not!”

Fíli sighed for a moment, his voice quiet. “Will Dwalin really deny his duty?”

A silence hung between them, as if they both had silently answered the question. A part of you hoped Fíli would agree to being your bodyguard. Though you knew none of them, he seemed like the most well fit. Dwalin was much too angry. Kíli seemed eager to not take up the task, either.

“You owe me for this,” Fíli huffed. 

“So you’ll do it?” Kíli seemed quite relieved at the decision. 

“I haven’t got the time to deal with an angry Dwalin right now and I have even less time for your squabbling, Kí. So fine. You can go tell Uncle.”

“What, and piss him off?” Kíli seemed devastated. 

“Consider it your payment for shuffling it onto me. Now go before I change my mind.” Fíli stood firm against his brother, and soon you heard footsteps fading away. 

A sigh rang through the hall and Fíli’s footsteps continued your direction, prompting you to quickly flee to your bed. The last thing you needed was for these dwarves to think you were spying on them after begging for refuge. 

Three soft knocks forced you to look inconspicuous as Fíli opened the cracked door. “Here are some more blankets.”

You cleared your throat quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Ah, thank you again.” You stood back up, walking over to him as you received the linens. “Oh, and the clothes?”

“I’ll be sure to fetch you some first thing in the morning, when the market opens back up.” He gave a short smile after bowing again. “I’ve been assigned to look after you starting today.”

“As my bodyguard?” You raised a brow, feigning innocence. 

“Watchman, trainer, bodyguard. That’s what I’m to provide, yes.” He nodded. 

“I see.” You looked awkwardly at the empty bed in your room. “You don’t have to share—“

“Oh, not at all,” he quickly answered, catching wind of your intent. “But my room won't be far, so don’t hesitate to call on me for anything. Well, mostly anything. I do appreciate my sleep here and there.”

You gave a weak laugh to his joke, still trying to ease your stress as you processed all of this information. “And where exactly is your room?”

He stepped out of the doorway, pointing down the hall. “The first right and then the second door on the left.”

You mused the directions under your breath. “First right—“

“You’ll have time to remember, don’t worry. I’ll show you tomorrow when we go to the tailor’s.” He peered back inside your room, checking everything. “Gandalf says you’ll be safe here, so there’s no need to rush.”

“Are you close with him?” You asked. 

“Close enough to trust him. He speaks in riddles but he’s helped my family greatly.” Another nod from the blonde, this one followed by a soft smile. “He means well, despite his temper.”

You nodded, not having any more to say. How late was it at this point? The ache in your body was ringing in your bones, lulling you to sleep as you tried to stay awake. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, raising a brow. 

“It’s late,” was all you could say. He hummed in agreement. 

“I’ll leave you, then. I’ll be sure to wake you up first thing in the morning so we can fetch you some new clothes.”

You felt your head growing heavier and heavier with each nod, finding it harder to speak as sleep called to you. Before you realized it, you and Fíli had exchanged goodbyes and he had shut your door, retiring to his own room. 

This was your new life now.

Morning came all too quickly as you awoke to three knocks, just like yesterday. Their sound was louder than last nights, as any wake up call would be. You sprang up, bewildered and bleary-eyed. You always had trouble sleeping in new beds and this one was no exception; you had spent most of your night staring at the ceiling and contemplating your new circumstances.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Fíli’s voice called through the wooden door and you stumbled out of bed to open it, a slight groan leaving your throat as your body cracked from soreness.

“Yes, sorry,” you apologized, opening the door. A part of you was thankful you were still wearing last night’s clothes rather than sleeping naked. “Is it morning already?”

“It’s noon, actually. I figured I’d let you sleep in. I managed to pick up some tunics and trousers for you to try on and see if they fit. The trousers may run a little short on you,” he kept explaining, showing you the clothes he had brought.

Noon?! It was that late in the day already? Your mind was reeling with a headache from lack of sleep and you groaned, reaching a hand to your temple.

“Are they not to your liking?” Fíli raised a brow. “There’s no point in being picky, you know–”

“What? No, not at all,” you waved him off. “Sorry… I’ve never been made for mornings.”

“Or afternoons, it seems.” He frowned. “I’ll leave these here with you, then.”

You took the clothes from him with a nod, staring at the naturally dyed linens in your hands. “I don’t suppose I could bathe before I change into these, could I?”

He cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. He seemed either willing to leave or as if he were reaching the end of his patience with you. You didn’t like either option.

“I could show you around to the baths, if you’d like.”

“Baths? There’s multiple?” You raised a brow, confused.

“Well yes, they’re public. There has to be multiple for a city like this. It would wreak havoc if there was only one.” He looked at you as if you were the crazy one, and it wasn’t making the situation any less awkward.

“And they’re open right now?” You spoke slowly, trying to process this information.

“Of course they are, they never close. That would be even worse than having only one.” 

You didn’t have the energy to even inquire as to why that would be worse, not wanting your ignorance to be seen as stupidity. “Are they busy this time of day?”

Fíli looked away, thinking to himself before he answered. “If you’re looking for privacy, then you’re better off going in the wee hours when everyone’s asleep. I believe that should answer your question better?”

You nodded. “It does… Would you be willing to take me later?”

He sighed, pondering the idea. It was certainly a tall ask for a dwarf who had already told you he likes his beauty sleep. “Tonight. But learn the path so you can take yourself next time. Don’t need anyone getting any wrong ideas, least of all my brother.”

You smiled in relief at the thought of a bath. You could certainly tough up the dirt for a few more hours. “You have my thanks.”

“Anyways, it’s best we make use of the day for you. Uncle told me to show you around today so you don’t get lost.” He nodded, shifting again from foot to foot. He was eager to do more than just watch after some stranger, you could tell. A part of you felt bad he had gotten stuck with watching you, but this was what Thorin’s terms were. 

“Understood. I’ll get changed then. I’ll be out in a moment.” You shut the door on him, laying your new clothes out on your bed. Even if you couldn’t bathe right away, wearing clean clothes would certainly help boost your spirits. 

There was certainly one thing you appreciated about dwarven clothes, and that was the sheer size of them. You were certain that any of these tunics would fit a tad oversized, which was a nice break from your form-fitting clothes from back home. You slipped your alabaster-toned tunic on, the sleeves running a bit short on you as you adjusted the fabric. And the pants were no better; they stopped halfway down your calves. But you found the odd fit charming rather than upsetting, glad to simply be wearing something clean. 

You tucked your tunic in, tying your old belt around the waist to keep your pants from sagging or possibly falling, and for the first time in your journey, you actually felt comfortable. Indeed, now that you had spent a night in your new home, you were beginning to see things in a much cozier light, despite how scary the new surroundings could seem. 

You opened the door, stepping out into the hall with Fíli, now a little more ready for the day despite the ache in your body and the headache wearing on. 

“Lead the way.”

Hours had gone by and Fíli had dragged you nearly the entire length of the kingdom. At least, that’s what it felt like. The entire day seemed to go on with him showing you the forges or the market or the grocer, spewing information at you like some tour guide from hell. Granted, that wasn’t to say that Fíli was hellish, but rather you were finding it impossible to retain all off this information in one day.

Now you two were headed to the Library of Records, where all of Erebor’s historical texts resided. All the hallways seemed to blend in with one another, but Fíli didn’t seem too bothered by your aloofness. You were grateful he was being patient with you, or as patient as a dwarf on a mission could be. 

“You’ll have to start pulling your weight in some way here, otherwise you’ll starve,” he explained as you two turned a corner.

“As in?”

“You’ll need to get a job, surely.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking. “I don’t have any skills that would be of use here. I’m not a blacksmith or a miner or even a farmer.”

“Then what did you do back home?” Fíli raised a brow, shocked.

His question seemed to shock you as well. Indeed, what did you do? Now that you actually thought about it, you never had to do anything; your father had provided everything for you. Other than wandering the streets to escape the tension in your home, you didn't do much in your youth besides reading and painting.

“I painted?” You said, but it came out as more of a question, as if you were asking if your answer was acceptable.

It seemed enough to surprise Fíli. “Portraits?”

“And landscapes. I especially liked painting flowers.” The thought brought a small smile to your face.

“Were you any good?” He asked.

“My mother thought so.” You muttered, a bittersweet feeling tugging at your heart now. You knew there was no longer a home for you in Gondor, but it didn’t stop you from missing parts of it.

“That’s good, then.” He nodded, leading you up a staircase.

“It is?” You asked.

“There’s plenty of us here that don’t have the money to pay for things, especially after so much of the King’s Vault went towards construction costs. The economy here has been a tad unorthodox since the days of the dragon, so many people trade instead.” He explained. You quickly caught on that he gestured with his hands often while speaking.

“Trade?”

“Like for example, this morning I traded a dagger I had made for the clothes you’re wearing.”

You looked down at your outfit, now seeing it in a new light. “And that was enough?”

He nodded. “People need things, especially in Erebor and Dale. The dragon took so much from us that we’ve learned to take what we can get. I reckon you could trade some of your paintings if you got back into practice.”

You hummed, rolling the idea over in your mind. “You really think so?”

“Oh, absolutely. Especially the elder dwarrowdams at the market, they can’t resist a new decoration for their homes.” He grinned at the thought. “We can get you some supplies later.”

You gave a soft smile in return. “I’d like that very much.”

The day was truly wearing you down now; between all the walking and your headache, you felt absolutely spent. You and Fíli had already visited the market twice, where he had traded more of his own wares to buy you some basic painting supplies. There hadn’t been very much to choose from, but even the small colors he had supplied you with were more than you could have asked for on your second day here. 

Now, thankfully, he had given you a break from walking after you subtly voiced your complaints, letting you two enjoy the quiet and solitude of one of Erebor’s many libraries. 

“This one has already been restored,” Fíli explained. “Nobody will bother you here.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing your temples as you tried to mitigate your pain. “Thank you, Fíli.”

He gave a silent nod before setting his things down at the scribing table you had sat at and meandering the shelves, reading the spines of tomes and scriptures that decorated the shelves. 

Guilt picked at your brain as you studied his moving figure. Eavesdropping on his conversation last night hadn’t given you any sort of solace with the fact that this wasn’t a position he had chosen. Then again, any bodyguard assigned to you wouldn’t have been because they chose it; it was the King’s orders. It was the deal provided to you and Gandalf by Thorin. But something about the situation still didn’t sit right in your mind. The last thing you wanted to be was a burden to another stranger.  

“Fíli,” you mused under your breath as you thought, but it hadn’t been quiet enough.

Fíli peered around a bookshelf. “Did you say something?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, searching for words. Perhaps this was as good a time as any to sprinkle in some friendly conversation. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking to myself,” you explained.

“I see,” he nodded. “Anything I should be aware of?”

You thought for a moment, thinking of what you should ask him.

“I suppose I was wondering what you’d be doing if you weren’t here with me,” you said, picking at your cuticles as a nervous habit.

“As in my normal day-to-day?” He asked. You nodded, clarifying.

He cleared his throat. “Well let’s see… I think I’m usually with my brother around this time; we’ve been helping with deliveries this week in the Forges.”

“Deliveries?” You set your hands back down, taking interest.

“Meals and supplies, mostly. Though I think Bofur and Nori are helping him out right now.” 

“Are you and your brother close?” 

He smiled, breathing in before he spoke. “More than anything. Though if you ask me, sometimes I’d say we’re too close.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, taking his openness as an opportunity to learn more about him. “How so?

“Sometimes we get each other caught up in rather… tough situations,” he laughed. “One of us is always covering for the other in times of need because we know the other wouldn’t dare say no.”

“Like what?” You smiled at the thought of relying so strongly on someone like a sibling. It certainly must come in handy.

Fíli seemed caught off guard by this question, looking away as he answered. “My brother wasn’t too keen on watching over you, so I took over…”

You already knew that but for some reason, hearing it still hurt a little as guilt ate away at you. Fíli looked back at you and could somehow tell, his expression quickly growing sympathetic.

“It’s nothing personal, I can assure you.” He waved his hands again as he apologized.

You gave a small nod and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I assumed. I wouldn’t be too keen to be in your situation, either.”

A short silence fell over the both of you as the awkward tension set in. What were you supposed to say after that? 

Luckily, Fíli seemed to want to keep the ball rolling. You appreciated that he seemed to be putting in the effort.

“What do you think you’ll paint first, now that you have some supplies?” He gestured to the leather pouch you had set on the table, full of brushes and paints.

You looked down at the pouch, sighing. It was a good question and one you didn’t have an answer to.

“I’m not really sure,” you said. “I usually always used references back home. Sometimes I’d be out for hours just sitting in the field I was painting so I could make it as accurate as possible.”

“You also did portraits though, right? Would my likeness help?” He smirked. “I’ve been told I add charm to any portrait.”

Caught off guard by his sudden flirtatious comment, you rolled your eyes. “Like I said, I prefer landscapes. I also don’t paint people I just met.”

He waved you off. “It was a jest, don’t get all smart with me now.” He sighed, chuckling to himself. “My mother would be grateful if you did, though.”

“Your mother?” You raised a brow.

“She’s attempting to have me start courting some of the dams here, and apparently it starts with a good portrait.” He fiddled with the beaded braids of his beard. “I’ve always preferred someone’s real face, though. Paintings can hide so much.”

“You’ve never seen an honest painting, then.” You scoffed, then immediately caught yourself. “Sorry.”

He smiled softly, looking at you with an expression in his eyes that you couldn’t discern. “Speak your mind, I won’t complain.”

You laughed through your nose, running a hand through your hair as you cracked your neck and stretched. Perhaps this dynamic between you two wasn’t going to be as awkward as you thought.

Now two weeks into your stay, you had found yourself in a familiar routine alongside Fíli. Mornings you had to yourself, often going to the market to find something to eat while Fíli would be running his own errands elsewhere. He’d rejoin you in the afternoon, teaching you how to defend yourself in the privacy of the royal family’s training halls. Then at night, the two of you would share a meal. Kíli would often join you two for dinner before parting ways, usually ending with you retiring to the bathhouses.

Your free time had also allowed you to begin painting again; most of your pieces were studies of your room or the market. Being able to tap back into your hobby had immensely helped you grow comfortable in Erebor, as you allowed yourself to have something familiar in a kingdom so unknown. Just like Fíli suggested, you had even begun trading your artwork at the market, often painting personal portraits that older dwarrowdams requested for their husbands. 

You also began to keep a diary — though you refused to call it that. Rather than being addressed to the journal, you started each entry with ‘Dear Fíli’. It was silly and you hoped he would never find it, but you found it much easier to write your accounts if they were addressed to a person. And being that he was the only person you really spoke to these days, save for his brother, it felt convenient. 

Speaking of Fíli, your attention was drawn from the latest sketch you were working on as three soft knocks sounded on your door. You could tell it was him based on how he knocked at this point, bidding him entry as you erased a small mistake in your outline. 

He opened your door, walking in to admire the sketch behind you. “What’s this one going to be?”

“The dam who runs the spice stall, Bralva,” you spoke, careful to keep your pencil strokes light. 

“I don’t recall her hair being that red,” he mused. 

“She has trouble washing it, it’s much shinier when it’s clean,” you said. He hummed in response. 

“How were your deliveries?” You asked, setting your pencil down finally as you faced him. 

“Short and quick, thankfully,” he sighed. “I had some extra time afterwards, so I managed to stop by Bombur’s bakery and order some pastries.”

You perked up at the idea of sweets. “What kind?”

“That’s for you to know later. Consider them as an incentive for training today.” He grinned. 

You sighed, thinking of how sore you were just from yesterday’s training. You had already quickly learned a lot about Fíli in these two weeks, including his tenacity for training. Even though you knew he was pulling his punches, he was still a formidable enemy. 

“Is it time for that already?” A groan escaped your lips as you thought of dodging his attacks for another two hours. 

“Practice is better when it’s consistent, Y/N. Besides, you’re doing great so far.” He waved your complaints off. “Just think of the fresh pastries!”

Another thing you had learned about Fíli was despite the fact that he was the Crown Prince, he was almost entirely as immature as his younger brother, and even cockier to boot. He always asked when the next portrait you drew would be of him; when you told him you didn’t plan on doing so, he’d claim it was because his looks were too powerful to contain in any art medium. He always said it in a joking tone, of course, but you knew a part of him meant it. It almost made you want to paint him perfectly out of spite. Almost.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get a move on,” you said, putting away your pencils.

“Fix your stance, it’s too weak,” Fíli reminded you for the umpteenth time before kicking your legs from under you.

You crashed onto the floor once again, your body both sore and numb from the repeated falls onto the floor. You were grateful it was carpeted and not the solid stone of the mountain.

“If you would just give me the time to do so,” you trailed off, quickly getting back on your feet in enough time to dodge a swing of his fist. You used the momentum of his swing to push and turn him around, but he only stumbled for a moment.

He was a seasoned warrior, after all. And you were just some cushiony noble who hadn’t fought a day in their life.

“Time is short in combat,” he instructed, quickly dodging a kick from you as you tried to draw him further away from you. “Your opponent isn’t going to give you a time out just because you need to readjust your feet.”

You stepped back as he now approached you, aiming targeted punches that barely missed your chest and shoulders as you haphazardly dodged and redirected them. “Then maybe you should try and teach me something new instead of constantly knocking me do–”

And down went your body back onto the floor due to Fíli’s attacks. You groaned, this time writhing on the ground instead of quickly returning to your feet. You were growing tired of dodging and bobbing and falling and weaving through his assaults.

Perhaps it was out of pity or sympathy, but it seemed Fíli was also ready to take a break as he grabbed his waterskin and took a drink. You watched him from the floor as his back was turned to you; it seemed you finally had an opening now.

Quietly, you crawled nearer until you reached with outstretched arms to grab his ankle, pulling it instantly towards you. With a grunt of surprise, he stumbled back and you were all too ready to express your victory. But gravity took over as he plummeted backwards now, falling on top of you in a tangle of limbs and pain. 

You had won, but at what cost?

You winced in pain, having hit your head on impact as a groan left your lips. You were also now soaked with the blood of your second victim: Fíli’s waterskin. This didn’t feel like a victory. 

Even Fíli needed a moment before he could even move, groaning in pain as he tried to readjust himself off of you. “What was that supposed to be?”

“A small win,” you said, rubbing the back of your head in pain. 

“And was it worth it?” He laughed weakly. 

You rolled your eyes, refusing to look at him. “Oh, shut up.”

Suddenly, you felt a new hand massaging the back of your head. You quickly turned to see Fíli kneeling beside you, checking you for injuries. 

“Did you hit it?” He asked, inquiring about your head. 

You couldn’t even speak, instead giving him a small nod. 

Gods, you must’ve really hit your head! Why else were you finding yourself flustered when a wet, warm and roguishly handsome dwarf was this close to you? And looking at you with such care in his eyes? Wait, did you say handsome?

He leaned back, retracting his hand as he stood up, offering you a hand to help. You tried your best to snap out of your trance, but it was proving to be harder than expected. Had he always looked this good when you two were training? Had his muscles always glowed in his sweaty state? 

Gods. You thought you might have a concussion at this rate.

“I think it’s best we call it a night for now,” he frowned, quickly grabbing the pastries from earlier. “Let’s get some food in you and then have your head checked out.”

You furrowed your brows, confused. “What? No, it’s fine, I’ll just need—“

“It could be serious, Y/N.” Fíli’s tone held firm. “These floors aren’t exactly soft.”

Finally, you were coming back to your senses. There was no point in arguing either, not with the serious look he was giving you. “Okay. Let’s go and eat.”

After dinner, Fíli had taken you straight to the infirmary, not wasting a moment to get your head checked out. You were thankful for his swiftness too, feeling quite dizzy after dinner. Your vision seemed to focus in and out and your head was throbbing. Fíli had to help walk you to the infirmary, his stony expression not helping your emotions in your fugue state.

“You bruised your head,” the medic had told you, his tone stern as his fingers tangled themselves in your hair to look at your scalp. “Not too bad; there's no blood. We'll need to be weary of the severity, these things are hard to treat when they’re serious. You’ll have to be put on rest for at least a week.”

“A week?” You had asked with a frown. 

“If the pain or your vision gets worse then it’ll have to be even longer. Come back and see me immediately if that’s the case..” The medic shuffled over to his shelves of dried herbs, gathering a collection in a sachet for you as he spoke.

“How serious could it be?” Fíli asked.

“It’s hard to tell with bumps on the head,” the medic replied. “Especially when there isn’t any blood. My uncle couldn’t speak for months because of it. And I know you're aware of Bifur's case.” 

“Then what do you suggest I do?” You asked, ignoring the mention of Bifur. You’d have to ask Fíli about that later if you could remember. 

The medic finished his rummaging, now placing ten sachets of herbs in a small pouch before giving it to you. “Brewed in a tea, these should help with the pain. I can always give you more, but try to use them sparingly.”

“And I suppose sparring is out of the question?” Fíli already knew the answer but he asked so you could hear it. 

“Very much so. Nothing strenuous on the mind or the body for the next week. Consider yourself with a lot of free time to do nothing in the coming days,” the medic said. “Remember: if the pain or your vision worsens over the week, come and see me. I pray it won’t be that serious — the bruise is very faint.”

And now here you were, lying in your bed and staring at the open ceiling of your canopy, your head throbbing in pain. You had hoped lying down would’ve provided any solace, but with your dizziness and blurry vision, it didn’t seem to help much. 

“Here, drink this.” Fíli handed you a mug of some dark and musty smelling liquid. You winced upon smelling it. “Come on, it’ll help. You heard him.”

You sat up, receiving the mug and immediately closing your eyes to avoid the nausea. “How fast will it work?”

“You won’t know until you drink it, Y/N.”

You didn’t have the time, patience or energy to argue, bringing the mug to your lips and drinking. You were grateful Fíli hadn’t brewed it too hot; it was the perfect temperature not to scald you. 

“Thank you again,” you breathed, opening your eyes again. Fíli had gone through the trouble to help you back to your room and brew your tea for you, checking on you constantly. “For everything.”

“I’m just doing my duty,” he assured you as he blew out some of the candles in your room, making it dimmer. “There. Bright enough to see but not enough to blind. Is that better?”

You nodded. “Much. You’re so good at this.”

“I’ve had to help my mother tend to Kíli more than a few times in my youth,” he chuckled. “He was never as good as me when it came to climbing trees. Sure knew how to fall, though.”

“Did he ever have a bruised head like me?”

“Oh, he’s had it worse than you, believe me. He’s almost died before.” His tone was softer as he spoke. 

“That sounds much nicer than living with this,” you gestured to your head. 

Fíli smiled softly, sitting on your storage chest. “There’s no need for morbid jokes like that; you’re not dying.”

It sure felt like it. The throbbing was constant, like soldiers marching right on top of your brain. You were sure you’d wake up the next day with footsteps all over you. 

Thankfully, your vision had settled a little with the dimmer light. “I think I’ll be going to bed soon,” you sighed. 

Fíli shook his head. “Not yet, not until your symptoms improve with the tea. That’s what the medic said. That’s how we’ll know if you’re actually alright to sleep.”

“But it’s been hours since then,” you said. “I’m so tired.” 

“And you can sleep soundly once you’ve started feeling better. That’s an order.”

You waved him off, knowing it was impossible to argue with him. He was so many things, and stubborn was one of them. Cocky, immature and stubborn. 

“I’ll keep you company until anything improves.” He said, watching you take another gulp of the tea.

Cocky. Immature. Stubborn.

Cocky. He had kept overpowering you in training today, knocking you down all the time as a means of teaching you to dodge better. Maybe it was the pain making you bitter, but you still felt sore about today’s training. Very sore.

Immature. He had knocked you down multiple times, all with his own special comedic timing. Prick.

Stubborn. And now, after all of this, he wouldn’t leave your side; you weren’t even sure of how long it would be for. Great.

But you knew you were just being delusional. Sure, he was often teasing you about your portraits or overpowering you in training, but he hadn’t been that way since your injury. It was like you were seeing a whole new side to him. He was making your tea and helping you get to the medic. He was even staying by your side to keep you company and keep an eye on your symptoms. 

Maybe it was the head injury, but you were starting to think that he cared, even if just a little. 

You took another gulp, rolling your eyes at your own inner monologue. It was definitely the head injury.

Everything about your mandated rest only seemed to frustrate you. Sure, you could do everything that you normally could do before, save for training, but having to go to sleep with musty tea and headaches every night wasn’t exactly paradise.

You often resigned yourself to your room for most of the day, painting out of stress or frustration at the fact that this injury was taking so long to heal. You had tried walking around in the markets to get some steps in, but the bright lights and noise of the vendors’ stalls only irritated your mind more. For that reason you often spent time hiding away in libraries for fresh air when you were sick of your room’s four walls.

Fíli was around less, too; with you out of commission, he had taken on more deliveries and visited you less. As your bodyguard, he was still obligated to be by your side, but you had agreed it would be easier if he wasn’t sitting in your room all day with you. He had duties, after all. In these last five days, you wouldn’t see him until he joined you in the late afternoon, bringing dinner with him for you two to share a meal. 

You had come to appreciate this sentiment greatly. It was amazing how much some friendly interaction seemed to help you, especially when he was always checking in on how you were feeling. Like clockwork, you would find your painting sessions interrupted by the smell of fresh food and conversation. But once he would retire to his own room, the boredom would attack again.

Despite the boredom the healing process brought you, it wasn’t all for naught. Your vision had already gone back to normal and you found yourself less and less dizzy as the days went on by. But the throbbing in your head (while much less than before) was constant and it drove you mad. Sleeping at night had become a tall task; at times it felt as though the tea wasn’t proving to be as strong as it had in the beginning. 

Tonight was another sleepless night, the candle dripping wax as it lit up the newest journal entry you were writing; you had been making many entries to help you journal through this tough time. Most of them were about your injury or your boredom, but tonight was different.

This one was about Fíli. In fact, the last one had also been about Fíli. It was starting to become a pattern for you due to a rather unfortunate circumstance. 

You were having dreams about him. 

Maybe it was your concussion or the fact that you found yourself lonely every now and again in the night but you kept finding yourself dreaming of Fíli. 

You chalked it up to your mind trying to find something distracting to cure your endless fits of boredom, opting to write these dreams and feelings down as a means of getting them out of your head.

You set your pencil down, reading over the first page.

Dear Fíli,

I awake to thoughts of you yet again. Have you always looked like firelight, or have the effects of my headaches finally caught up to me? Your hair is that of melted glass. I dearly want to touch it. Wrap my fingers in it. I wonder if it is soft. I wonder if you are soft.

All too quickly, you found yourself disturbed by what you had written. This was insane! You felt crazy writing about how pretty the dwarf looked in your dreams. Nothing about this felt normal to you, all of it felt foreign, especially the dreams you were having.

Flustered, you put away your letter, hoping the thoughts would leave your mind if the reminders were out of sight. You were just lonely, right? Lonely and isolated due to needing rest, that was all.

Knock, knock, knock!

You jumped in your seat, a hand flying to your chest as Fíli’s knocks startled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you made sure the letters were well hidden under your painting supplies before you opened the door, trying your best to look as normal as possible.

“Fíli? Is something the matter?” You furrowed your brows, confused on why he would be here so late in the night. You two had already eaten dinner and parted your separate ways.

He grinned, holding another bag of pastries in his hands. He must’ve visited Bombur again. “I bring good news. May I come in?”

You opened the door wider before returning to your bed. Fíli made himself comfortable on your storage chest. “The bakery is open this late?”

He chuckled, handing you a fresh pastry, the smell bringing a smile to your face. “Bombur’s pulling an all nighter to make sure his stock is ready for tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?” Your mouth was full of food as you spoke, quickly covering your mouth as you chewed and swallowed. “What’s tomorrow?”

Fíli’s eyes widened, looking at you as if you had hit your head. Oh, the irony.

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Mahal, did I not tell you?” He genuinely seemed flabbergasted and your curiosity was wearing thin.

“Fíli, what on earth is it?” You asked.

“There’s a banquet tomorrow night, Y/N. Everyone’s been talking about it at the market.” He finally took a bite of his own pastry, the heavenly scent permeating the room.

“I haven’t been to the market in two days, you knew that,” you rolled your eyes, but the idea of a banquet piqued your interest greatly. “What’s the banquet for?”

“Brothers from the Iron Hills have come to visit, my cousin Dain included. They’ve come to see the progress Uncle has made to restore our home.” He took another bite, relishing the taste. You found yourself too fixated on watching him eat. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

You shook your head free of its weird thoughts. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure.” 

You frowned, worried about your injury. Banquets were gloriously regal but often full of bright lights and noises, both of which you still weren’t well enough to tackle.

“Are you going?” You asked, wondering if he’d be leaving your side tomorrow if you chose not to attend.

“I have to, at least for a little while. Thorin has Kíli and I give Dain a tour of the Forges before it starts.” He leaned back, getting comfortable. “After that, we’ll probably escape to meet the rest of the boys.”

You raised a brow. “Who?”

“Everytime we hold a banquet, Kíli and I socialize for a little while before sneaking off to our own hiding spot. At first it was to avoid our mother hunting down suitors for us, but now it’s become a tradition.” He chuckled. “We’ve even got Threl and Ori meeting us up there now, and I think Kíli has invited Gloín’s son, Gimli.”

You laughed. “The princes of Erebor don’t like to party? I find that quite hard to believe.”

“Oh, quite the opposite.” He threw a wink your way, flustering you as you quickly stuffed your face to hide it. “But it’s hard to have fun when your mother and uncle keep making you dance with every dwarrowdam within sixty miles. So, we have to get crafty!”

“What did you do last time?” You asked, your voice stuffed with food. Your manners had been loosening up while staying here.

“We snuck three barrels of mead with Bofur’s help,” he smiled at the thought. “It cost us three of his shifts but it was worth it. This year’s going to be much different, though.”

“Different?” You finished your pastry. “How so?”

“Well, now it’s more than just my brother and I. We’ve got three others joining us this time, and Kíli wants to spend the night playing drinking games, but that’s because he thinks he can outdrink Gimli.”

“Can –?”

“Not at all.”

You laughed, imagining all of the shenanigans a drunken prince could get into. You barely knew Kíli, having eaten with him only a handful of times, but he gave the vibe of a mischievous drunkard. 

“You’ll have a great time if you come,” he said. “And it’ll give you some freedom from your room.”

“I’m just worried,” you tucked a loose strand of hair away, feeling anxious. “I don’t want to risk anything with my headaches right now. Lights and noises have only been making it worse.”

You wanted to go, to socialize with someone, anyone. But there were simply too many risks, too many worries.

He tossed you another pastry, making you look over at him.

“Come, even if just for a moment,” he said. “The minute you don’t feel well, I’ll bring you to your room myself. But getting out of here would do you some good, Y/N. You’re getting uneasy.”

Your eyes widened, worried. Had he seen your letters? “How do you know that?”

“Y/N.” His tone was flat as he gestured to your room. “I don’t mean to offend, but look at the state of the place.”

Oh. That’s what he had meant. You sighed out of relief as you bit into the pastry. The midnight snack was doing wonders right now despite the fact that he had pointed out how messy your room was getting. 

“Fair enough.”

Almost twenty-four hours later, your room was back to its usual state and it was already improving your mood greatly. Maybe your mother had been right about nagging you to clean your room as a child. Your mind felt cleaner now that your room didn’t mirror its mess. 

And speaking of a clear mind, last night had been the first night of decent sleep in a while. No weird dreams, no restlessness, and you woke up feeling especially refreshed. Noises were still bothering you, which you had discovered while getting breakfast down at the market, but lights were a lot less irritating. 

This was good, as Erebor was brighter than it had ever been; metal lanterns hung on every corner of the kingdom, lighting the market and the great halls as everyone hustled and bustled preparing for the banquet . 

You had managed to finish two more portraits as the day went on, the sun setting behind the mountain before you even realized it. Soon, Fíli would be here to fetch you. 

You wondered what his friends were like. If they were anything like him, you were prepared for a whole lot of cockiness and childish humor. You smiled to yourself at the thought of Fíli getting drunk, wondering what his tolerance was like. He seemed like the type who could handle his liquor.

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Come in,” you called as you continued touching up your newest painting. 

The door opened and soon you felt Fíli lean down behind you to peer at your canvas. “And who am I meeting this time?”

“A young dam named Annis,” you answered. 

“The new lass at the bakery?” 

“The very same.” You dipped your paintbrush in another color as you carefully fixed a mistake you had made with her nose. 

“She makes a wonderful bread with cheese,” he hummed. 

“I know, she gave some to me as a gift this morning. Apparently she made too many for tonight.” You smiled at the thought of the tasty meal you had earlier. 

“And speaking of tonight,” he backed away from you know, sitting on your storage chest as usual. “Are you ready?”

You scoffed. “Clearly not if I’m painting.”

“Well, obviously. I meant more so in a general sense.” He rolled his eyes. 

“The answer’s still no, but alright.” You found a stopping point and began putting your supplies away, leaving the painting on its easel to dry. 

You stood up and stretched, cracking your knuckles. “I need to change, but I can do that quickly. Should I dress a certain way? I’ve never been to a dwarven banquet.”

“Oh, they’re very regal, but only for the ladies.” He chuckled. 

You looked confused, not understanding. 

He coughed. “To impress men. Most dams look for others to court at banquets.”

You rolled your eyes. “So the answer to my question is no?”

“Well, yes, but nobody’s stopping you from dressing yourself up.”

You ignored his comment, looking through some of your clothes that lay on your bed. You were deciding on an outfit earlier but had opted to wait for Fíli’s opinion. Not that it was doing any good. 

“And what is everyone else wearing?” You asked. 

“Does it matter?” He raised a brow. 

“Well, I’d very much like to blend in with your friends, so yes.”

“Y/N, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not a dwarf. You’re going to stand out.” 

You groaned, throwing a tunic at him. “If you’re not going to be helpful, then leave so I can change.”

He caught it with a shit-eating grin, holding back his laughter from his teasing. “Alright, alright. But hurry up, I told Kíli we’d be there soon.”

One casual outfit change led to Fíli guiding you through Erebor to his ‘secret spot’. Despite his eagerness to join his friends, you were grateful that he took you through a quiet path to get there. 

Twists and turns led you through one wine cellar, an empty staircase, and a ruined library before eventually bringing you to a wide and open balcony, hidden from anyone passing by. It hung over the great hall where the banquet was being held, giving you a perfect view of the events below. Your eyes lit up in awe, both from the sheer height of the balcony and the amount of people you saw down below. Dwarves were already naturally short, but from here they looked like ants dancing over stone floors. 

“Is this that noble you were talking about, Fíli?” An unfamiliar voice asked, prompting you to turn around and take in the sight of the balcony, which had been decked out with a wide table and benches. 

Seated at the table were four others, but you only recognized Kíli. Fíli made his way over, taking a seat as he waved a hand at you to invite you to sit down next to him. 

“Aye, this is Y/N.” He said, introducing you. You gave a small nod, taking in your new surroundings. 

“Are you drinking with us?” Kíli asked.

“No,” Fíli interjected before you could say anything. “They’ll be sticking to water tonight.”

“I’m sure one pint won’t hurt me,” you scolded. It was a nice gesture that he was looking out for you, but there was no way you could handle the pressure of meeting new people without some liquid courage. Even if you weren’t going to get drunk, having something to hold onto would help your nerves. 

Fíli raised both of his hands in surrender at your words, a smirk on his lips. 

“An excellent choice!” Kíli grinned, elbowing one of the younger dwarves at the table. “Ori, get them something to drink before we start.”

Ori, who you now realized was the younger redhead with the unfortunate haircut, quickly fetched a drink of mead for you, setting it down in front of you with a smile as you thanked him. 

“Are we starting already? They’re finally here now,” the brown haired dwarf with blue eyes said, gesturing to you and Fíli. 

“Come on, don’t be like that; we got here as soon as we could,” Fíli explained. 

“Don’t mind him,” the other young redhead spoke, his beard longer than everyone else’s. “Threl’s just eager to start drinking.”

“Well no one’s stopping you!” Ori teased, raising his mug as a cheer. You laughed under your breath at their antics. 

“What are we playing?” You asked, finally speaking up. 

“Strike the Iron.” Kíli said, drawing a set of metal die and a leather dish, which he set in the middle of the table. 

“It’s easy, don’t worry. You’ll catch on quickly,” Fíli grinned, now armed with his own pint. “You throw the die and whatever it lands on decides your fate.”

“My fate?” You raised a brow. 

“Should we start with one since Y/N’s never played?” Ori offered.

“Who says they can’t learn with two?” The other redhead retorted. A part of you was hoping someone would say his name so you could learn it without asking.

Kíli waved him off. “We can start with one for now. Threl, you can go first since you’re rushing us all.”

Threl laughed at this, taking the dice and separating them, giving Kíli the extra. He tossed the single die into the leather dish. All of you eagerly watched as it rolled around before eventually landing on its side.

“Matkati, of course,” he playfully rolled his eyes and took a heaping gulp of his malt.

“That’s what you get for being impatient,” Fíli laughed. He then turned to you to explain. “Matkati means you take a drink.”

You nodded, repeating the word under your breath. The rules seemed to be simple enough so far.

Fíli took the die and tossed it as well, reading the side it landed on. “Mafsiki. Alright, who’s asking me the question?”

“Question?” You raised a brow.

Kíli snickered. “It means we get to ask him to tell us a secret.”

“Let Y/N ask it, since they’re new.” Ori smiled your way and you were caught off guard by the way everyone agreed. Well now you had been put on the spot.

“Ask away,” Fíli smiled at you, a hand on his beer as he took a sip. 

You thought for a moment, finding yourself overwhelmed with the opportunity. There was so much you could ask of him.

“Tell us who has the lowest tolerance at the table,” you said, opting for a question that was relevant to everyone here.

“Gimli,” he pointed at the other redhead, who was not happy to have his name in someone’s mouth. At least you finally had a name to the face.

“You liar!” He stood up, pointing his own finger at Fíli as everyone at the table roared with laughter. “You couldn’t outdrink me if you tried!”

Even Kíli stood, offended. “You lie! Everyone knows that you can’t handle your mead!”

“That was one time, Kíli!” Fíli retorted. “And need I remind you how we got in that situation?!”

“It’s your turn, Y/N,” Threl said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I didn’t mean to cause any fighting,” you said while taking the die.

“Oh, don’t apologize!” Threl laughed. “Gimli’s always had a temper. He can’t tell a joke from a declaration of war.”

Gimli wasn’t having any of this, drinking his beer with a fiery passion. Hesitantly, you tossed the die into the leather dish, watching it roll around before it landed on the same symbol from earlier. “Mafsiki, right?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Threl grinned. “Who wants to ask them something?”

“My, who knew khuzdul sounded so nice on your tongue, Y/N,” Fíli chuckled, sending a wink your way. You eagerly took a drink to hide your face from his gaze.

“I’ll go,” Ori chimed in. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk?”

“While drunk?” You repeated, thinking to yourself. You hadn’t drank much back home, save for the occasional wine you’d sip as you painted. “I suppose I’ve accidentally slept on one of my paintings before.”

“Slept on a painting?” Ori repeated, eyes widening. “Was it dry?”

You chuckled. “Definitely not, it was ruined by the time I woke up. I was so upset; I think I cried.”

“That’s all? That’s not very adventurous,” Kíli scoffed. You were beginning to notice that he was much cockier than his brother. 

You shrugged. “I wasn’t known for my adventures back home. Being here is the most adventurous I’ve ever had to be.”

“Well then, it can’t be helped.” Ori said as he tossed the die. This time it landed on a new side, and you quickly looked to Fíli for an explanation. 

“Magli,” he whispered in your ear and you tried not to focus on how close he was as he spoke, his breath sending a shudder down your spine. “It means he’ll have to perform whatever daring task someone can come up with.”

“And I’ve already got the perfect one!” Gimli said proudly, slamming his drink on the table. It seems he had calmed down fairly quickly. 

“You, my lad,” he said, waving a finger in Ori’s face. “Need to go fetch us a platter of the meats they’re serving downstairs.”

Immediately, everyone started laughing and agreeing wholeheartedly. The table roared in agreeance and the rumbling of everyone’s stomachs.

“Yes, you must!” Kíli grinned, and Ori rolled his eyes as he stood up to leave. 

“These next tasks better not be errands!” He frowned, leaving the hidden balcony as he went to go do Gimli’s bidding. 

“Does he really have to go all the way back?” You asked. 

“Aye, if he wants to keep playing,” Gimli nodded. “Otherwise he’s exiled from the table.”

“That feels rather harsh,” you frowned. 

“It’s simply the rules, Y/N,” Fíli chuckled. “Gimli, hurry up and play. None of us here are drunk enough.”

“Aye, don’t rush me!” Gimli scolded, taking the die in his hand. 

Three long hours later, Gimli and Ori were out for the count, drunken and babbling nonsensical things as they laid on top of each other on the floor. You had to come to know that this was quite normal for them. Kíli, as you had predicted, had abandoned the group to go wildly dancing at the banquet down below. Every now and then, you and Threl would look over the balcony to see if you could spot the brown-haired prince from so high up.

“His mother will sure be happy to see him dancing with young dams,” Threl had snickered.

“The question is whether or not he’ll remember any of them in the morning,” you had retorted.

Fíli himself was also quite drunk; you had realized early on that he was even more of a lightweight than Gimli, having to switch his drink to water earlier in the game. Threl and yourself were the only sober ones, which you found ironic when Threl had been so eager to drink earlier.

At some earlier point in the night, all of you had abandoned the game, opting for drunken conversation mixed with the occasional dancing. You learned that Kíli and Ori were very light on their feet when it came to fast-paced dances. Gimli and Threl, on the other hand, found something as simple as waltzing to be a challenge. And Fíli? Well, he seemed to be a bigger fan of humming and clapping along to the music.

Eventually you all decided to return to the iron dice, but it was becoming much more intimate now that it was down to only three players: Threl, Fíli and yourself. 

You tossed the die into the dish, laughing to yourself as Fíli slumped against Threl, muttering how dear their friendship was to him. You hadn’t pegged him to be a sentimental drunk.

“Falling asleep already?” You scoffed, quickly reading the die to determine your fate. “It’s mafsiki.”

“Not in your wildest dreams, dear,” Fíli waved your question off and you did your best to not find yourself flustered by the pet name. He was a sentimental and affectionate drunk; you had been slowly discovering this as the night went on. “Threl, my brother, ask them a question.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “Y/N, how far can I take these questions?”

“We’ve already made steady progress, Threl.” You rolled your eyes. “I suppose anything’s on the table when you’ve already asked Kíli what he’s like in bed.”

He laughed at this, taking a swig of his mead. “In my defense, I thought he wouldn’t answer!”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you scoffed. Even if you weren’t close with Kíli, you knew he wouldn’t shy away from something so easily. You still couldn’t shake the image that Kíli had a thing for bondage. It seems you learn something new everyday. 

“Fair enough, I see your point. Let me think of something then.” He scratched his beard, setting his drink down to think. “Oh, I’ve got it.”

He leaned in from across the table, a devilish smirk on his face. “What’s a lie you’ve told yourself?”

“Well that isn’t particularly raunchy,” you frowned. You were expecting more. Perhaps even hoping for more.

“But it’s still interesting enough, I’d say,” Fíli chimed in.

“It seems the jury agrees with me, Y/N,” Threl chuckled.

You tucked a loose strand of hair away as you thought, wondering if there were any lies you had been telling yourself lately. Very little came to mind, but one in particular seemed to stick out.

“I suppose I keep telling myself that everything’s okay while I’m here,” you began with a sigh. “But I still have someone who wants me dead out there. And staying here and meeting such lovely people as you doesn’t change the fact that I’m a dead man walking.”

A silence fell over you three as you fiddled with your hair, unsure of what to do now. You had answered truthfully in order to keep playing, but it also felt as though you had ruined the mood. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so melanchol–” You began, interrupted when Fíli reached a hand over to rest on your shoulder, offering your reassurance.

“Gandalf is a friend,” he offered a small smile. “If he says you’re safe here, then safe is what you are. And I intend to help in any way I can.”

“I may not know your entire situation,” Threl offered. “But what my friend says is true. Especially if Fíli is your trainer. He’s a formidable fighter to have on your side.”

You smiled, silently thanking them for their reassurance. While it didn’t settle your inner qualms, it still felt quite lovely to know that there were people here who cared that you existed. That appreciated the fact that you were here, despite the reasons. And it was especially encouraging to know that you had allies.

“You know what we need at this moment?” Fíli asked, elbowing Threl.

“What’s that?” Threl gave Fíli a confused expression.

“More players! I’m sure if you go and fetch Kíli and find my dear friend Bofur, we can finally start playing with two dice!” Fíli’s pink cheeks glowed as he flashed a smile thinking of his friends.

Threl seemed quite keen on the idea, standing up quickly to leave. “Alright, but I doubt it will be easy with Kíli dancing. Wish me luck!”

You waved a short goodbye to the blue-eyed dwarf before turning to face Fíli again, whose expression was much more serious now. It caught you off guard, startling you for a moment.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

“Y/N…” His voice was clearer now, and despite his flushed face, you would have assumed he was much more sober now. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly apologized for your injuries–”

“Fíli, what are you saying?” You cut him off. “We were training, it wasn’t your fault–”

“Let me finish.” His eyes burned into yours and you shifted in your seat, feeling uncomfortable in his blue gaze. This was a complete shift from his earlier behavior and you were uncertain of where it was leading.

“I cannot help but feel guilty that my training has led to such an injury. You were brought here out of fear and because of that, you’ve had to find a place for yourself here, in a world that isn’t your own. I just…”

He paused and you drew another breath, unsure of where he was leading with this. Your heart was beating all too fast inside your chest.

“I need you to understand that while you haven’t been here long, I have grown quite accustomed to our routines.” He continued as he pushed through a fit of hiccups, which was the only thing reminding you of his drunken state. “While you are here, I will allow no harm to come to you. I swear it. I am wholly at your service for absolutely anything you will need. Anything.”

“Fíli, that’s…” You couldn’t find the words, taken aback by his proclamation. “That’s very kind of you.”

A short silence fell over you two and you were contemplating on finally telling Fíli about the feelings and dreams you had been having lately, but time was not on your side. 

“Aye, it’s hopeless!” A voice cut through, interrupting your thoughts as its owner walked back in with empty hands and a frown on his face. Threl was not pleased. “Kíli won’t come up here, believe me I tried.”

Fíli gave you one last longing look before turning to Threl and standing up, getting ready to leave. You took in the whole scene before you, still pondering the words he had spoken to you earlier. 

“You can’t be serious, brother. Here, we’ll all go find him together!”

Knock, knock, knock! You awoke quickly from the sound, springing out of bed to open the door to a smiling Fíli.

“What time is it?” You asked, your voice a few tones deeper and a bit raspy from waking up. You winced from the light that came in from the hallway, much brighter than your dark room.

Fíli stifled a laugh. “You sound like me! Is everything alright?”

“Fíli, it’s early.” You groaned. “What do you want?”

“You, obviously. Why else would I be here?”

You didn’t even have time to fantasize about the meaning of his words before he was already inviting himself in, lighting some candles along the way. It was indeed too early for anything this morning.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, seeking an explanation.

“You’ve been healed for a few days already, correct?” He looked at you to answer, despite already knowing the answer.

Three days ago, one month since you had arrived in Erebor, you had visited the medic for a final check up on your head. Thankfully, all of your headaches had dulled away and the rest of your symptoms were minimal if not completely gone. The bruise on your head had also healed tremendously; with all of these good signs, the medic had officially cleared your diagnosis, meaning you could resume your normal life again.

“Yes, you know this.” It was too early for these antics.

“I know, but humor me for the time being. I’ve planned the perfect get-well gift for you.” His smile was practically beaming now, as though he couldn’t contain his excitement.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you.” He said, feeling cheeky. If you weren’t annoyed before, you sure as hell were now.

“Fíli, I’d love nothing more than to go back to sleep.” You walked back over to your bed, fully intent on climbing back into the sheets. It was probably still warm, too, but Fíli had other plans.

“And I know it,” he said, quickly moving to put himself between you and your bed. If you hadn’t felt utterly exhausted, you might have found yourself feeling flustered or rather bold. But exhaustion was all you could feel right now.

“But I can assure you this will be worth it. And it has to be now.” His eyes bore into your own, waiting eagerly for your answer.

You sighed. It seemed there was no chance of winning against him.

“Just let me get dressed before I change my mind.”

Fíli made a sound of victory as he practically jumped off of your storage chest to exit your room. Even if he was annoying, he still would give you privacy. The door shut behind him, and you cast one more longing look at your bed before scurrying to find yourself an outfit.

It seemed it would be another day of a cozy tunic and trousers.

Finally dressed and following Fíli as he guided you through the kingdom’s halls, you were starting to feel more awake and more curious of what his planned surprise could possibly be. Even the idea that he had planned something special for you was giving you butterflies. How long had he been planning this? Or was this a sudden idea of his?

You tried your best to contain your excitement, not wanting to romanticize anything too much. Indeed, your growing feelings towards your bodyguard were still something you wished to keep secret.

Twists and turns and endless walking eventually led you outside of Erebor’s huge mountain gates; mighty, massive and moss-covered from the recent weather. The fresh wind hit your lungs all at once, making you feel as though you had taken the first deep breath of air in a long time. You gasped at the sensation.

The fresh fall air tickled your skin as you realized it had been too long since you had last seen the sky. The vast blue atmosphere welcomed you with its sunny warmth and you couldn’t help the smile that quickly took over your face. Outside, finally.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until it was all around you.

Fíli had been watching your reaction with a soft smile on his face, taking in your joy with a sense of pride. He was glad to take in your expressions. Finally realizing he was watching, you quickly composed yourself, feeling embarrassed.

“I didn’t realize that I had missed it so much,” you said, your voice hushed.

He nodded with a smile, understanding. “We miss the things we take for granted.”

You nodded, walking closer to keep up with his pace. “Is this what the surprise was?”

“Not even quite,” he laughed. “Come on, we’re almost there.” 

Eagerly you followed, unable to wipe the smile off of your face. Everything was perfect; the wind blowing your worries away. For now, all that mattered was you, Fíli and the sky. But things were only getting started.

The path was well-worn into the grass with small rocks and smooth stones occasionally jutting out from the soil. You tried your best to keep from tripping, too accustomed to the smooth carved stone of the mountain paths of Erebor. Everything about the outdoors felt so alien to your body, but you couldn’t have loved the feeling more. It felt as though you were experiencing everything again for the first time. 

Fíli, however, saw this as a perfect opportunity to tease you.

“Careful now,” he said anytime you stumbled, though it felt as though he said it whenever your foot so much as graced the presence of a hill.

“Seriously, I can manage,” you retorted with a huff.

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were about to–”

“Enough, Fíli.” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the smirk that was plastered on his face.

The journey was like this for quite some time until you began to piece together where your destination was. Needless to say, you were very excited.

“Dale? Is that where we’re going?” You asked, excitement feeding your smile.

“Just for a little while,” Fíli nodded, happy to see you had caught on. “I thought you would enjoy the time outdoors.”

“Oh, I already am,” you beamed. You could hardly contain yourself. There was fresh wind, there was the sky above you and there was an entire city of people like you waiting for you to explore it. It almost felt as though you were back home, nostalgia eating away at you as you couldn’t hold back your grin. 

“Fíli, this is wonderful,” you exclaimed.

He smirked. “Now you see why I woke you up so early. Even Kíli doesn’t know we’re here.”

“It’s a secret?” You asked.

“For now, but don’t worry.” He said. “We’ll be back before they even realize we’re gone.”

“How long do we have?” You raised a brow, curious as to why he’d chosen to keep it a secret.

“A few hours, at most. I thought you’d like to see the market first.”

He offered you his hand and you felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. You smiled, beaming down at the blonde prince as you took his hand in yours.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Despite the fact that the sun was still waking up in the sky, the busy market streets of Dale were alive and kicking. Colorful stalls decorated the cobblestone paths as vendors shouted their sales at passerby while others continued setting up their spaces. It was a vibrant and lively atmosphere that beckoned one and all to witness it. It made you think of the markets back home, despite their differences; even the markets in Erebor were different, as the stalls were lit up by lanterns that gave the illusion of a nighttime festival.

But none of these differences seemed to affect the way that your eyes glittered with joy at the sight of so many fine goods. Jewelry and clothing vendors caught your eye the most as you dragged Fíli along with you to browse the wares that were so different from the traditional dwarvish clothes you had become accustomed to. 

You had become so used to the earthy and deep tones of the mountain dyes, but here in Dale the clothes were of brighter hues. You had grown so used to the typical browns, blues and reds that the sight of such rich greens and purples blew you away. 

“Oh, just look at these, I’ve never seen such pretty dresses,” you muttered to yourself, astounded by all of the simple linen gowns the vendor was selling. They were so different from what you usually found yourself wearing, but for some reason you couldn’t shake your admiration off of them. 

“Did you want them?” Fíli asked, laughing at your childlike wonder. 

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—“

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. Consider it my payment for your injury now that you’re well again.” He was already fetching coins from his pouch and handing them to you; you couldn’t say no. And if you could, he certainly wasn’t taking it for an answer. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. 

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll even carry your purchases if you’re nice enough,” he joked.

You had laughed at this, but Fíli had been quite serious. For some strange reason, he refused to let you carry any of your next two purchases. You waved it off as his stubborn determination, your mind focusing more on the next vendors your eyes landed on. Whatever his reasons were, spending this time outside was doing so much for your health. Everything was lovely in the early morning sun.

Now that you two were in the full swing of things at the market, you really wanted to find a way to buy Fíli a gift of his own. Granted, he was the only one who had brought any money, but it was the sentiment that would matter more. 

The only issue was the fact that he hadn’t left your side whatsoever. 

You wracked your brain while pretending to peruse more wares, thinking of any excuse you could use in an attempt to sneak away and look for a gift for him. What would get him to let you escape? What kind of gift would he like? You told yourself you’d know it when you found it, opting to have one less thing to worry about. 

What was stopping you from just asking him to leave? You didn’t want to ruin the surprise of finding him a gift, but couldn’t you just ask for some privacy? Perhaps it was worth a shot. 

He raised a brow, noticing the torn expression on your face. “Everything alright?”

“Can I look at a few stalls by myself?” You asked, tucking your hair back as a nervous habit. 

“You already are, I haven’t said a word,” he replied. 

You shook your head. “No, I meant completely alone.” 

“Y/N, if it’s undergarments you’re looking for, we already passed that—“

“Is nothing sacred to you?” You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile from his crass teases. A full month of listening to his constant teases and jokes was now starting to make you find them humorous, which was terrible for his ego. “Fíli, please.”

He was already smirking from his own joke, but he could sense your impatience. He sighed, looking away for a moment as he came to terms with his decision. 

“Fine. I’ll stay here, but I don’t want you leaving my sight.” He handed you some coins from his small leather purse. “Here, these should do you some good.”

You grinned. “Right, of course.”

“And make it quick,” he added. “We should start thinking of heading back home soon.”

“I understand!” You called, already walking away to quickly roam some more stands. 

You had to find a gift for Fíli, and fast. What would he like? You knew he had an affinity for his weapons, but there was no way you had enough currency to pay for such a thing. You didn’t know him well enough to know what kind of clothes he was fond of, either. Your eyes scanned the wares of the next two stalls you wandered towards, trying not to rush yourself as you searched for something that would call out to you. 

And all of a sudden, there it was. 

Nestled in a small linen-lined case was a pair of rings carved from iron, a pearl embedded in each one. Their silver shine sparkled in the early morning light, reminding you of the silver beads Fíli wrapped around his braids. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them; these were the ones that were calling to you. The iridescent freshwater pearls reminded you of his eyes; they would be perfect to weave into his hair, as they were too small to fit even your fingers. 

“Excuse me,” you called, getting the vendor’s attention. Your heart was pounding at the idea of giving Fíli such a gift. “How much are these?”

The old woman hobbled over to you, gaining a closer look at what you were pointing at. Once she realized, a relieved sigh fell from her lips. 

“Oh my, anything you’re willing to spend is fine by me, dear.” Her shrill voice said. 

“Pardon?” You raised an eyebrow, not fully understanding what she meant. 

“My son made these months ago and they never sold because of their size,” she explained. “I wouldn’t argue with any payment for these, so long as they find a home with someone else.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, smiling as you fingered through your coins. You handed her three, hoping it would be enough despite the fact that she was willing to sell them for dirt cheap. 

“Thank you, dear.” She took your payment thankfully, picking up the rings afterwards. “Here, allow me to package them for you so you don’t lose them.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled. “That’s very kind.”

Your hands eagerly received the small linen bag that the old woman gave you, the clinking of the rings inside making your smile even bigger. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what Fíli would think. Your heart was pounding at the idea.

Quickly, you looked for him, knowing he was somewhere close. After all, he had told you to stay in his sight. But as your eyes traveled over all of the stalls you had previously been to, you noticed that he was nowhere to be found. Were you lost? He must have moved from the stall that you left him at, but where?

Tucking the small bag with his gift into your tunic, you began wandering and retracing your steps, hoping to find him nearby. You were growing a little nervous, hoping he wouldn’t be upset that you must have gotten lost, especially because he had mentioned that you two should start leaving soon. Would he be in trouble if anyone in Erebor found you two missing? You frowned at the thought, not wanting to find out.

“Fíli?” You called out, hoping he’d hear you in the sea of people shopping. “Fíli?

You kept walking, the worrying feeling growing in your chest the longer you couldn’t find your companion. You drew a breath, trying to calm yourself down until a hand grasped your wrist, pulling you away into a side alley.

Shock took over your face as your front was slammed into the walls of someone’s home, the breath knocked out of your lungs as a hand quickly covered your mouth, preventing any noise from being heard. You felt something sharp poke your back and your entire body stiffened.

“Let’s find out what happens if you make any noise, hm?”

An hour had passed now, your life hanging in the balance as your attacker paced the room of the abandoned building he had taken you to. Tied and gagged against a foundational pillar, your heart pounded as all you could do was watch in horror as your attacker waited impatiently while muttering something under his breath. The lighting was too dim to make out anything about him, save for his tall and lanky build.

How could you have been such a fool? You had been too naïve to believe that Erebor was a safe place. With a bounty on your head, you’d never be safe. If only you hadn’t let your guard down, if only you hadn’t lost sight of Fíli, and where was Fíli? Only an hour had passed, but it felt like three lifetimes with the fear that stabbed your heart. 

You were really going to die here. Alone and lost, without saying goodbye.

Your attacker whipped his head to look at you, an impatient grin on his face as his blade glinted in the candlelight of the room. He slowly approached you and you desperately tried to scurry away to no avail. He laughed at this, the scar on his left cheek now visible and on full display. But knowing what he looked like only terrified you more.

No, please. Don’t let me die here.

“You know what I’ve learned about you?” He smiled eerily, cocking his head to the side. “You’re tough to track, you know. Everyone before me lost your trail in Lake Town, but I knew better. Some were saying you had returned south into Mirkwood, can you believe that? Idiots, all of them.”

He scratched the back of his head with the hilt of his blade, a means of showing it off so he could see the fear in your eyes. A feral joy etched itself into his face as he studied your expression, relishing the silent tears that sprang from your eyes.

“I knew better, alright. I trusted the tracks — you must always trust the tracks. I’m actually just surprised it took me this long to find you here. Where have you been hiding out, hm? I checked all of the ruins here; were you staying with someone? Perhaps bribing them to let you live with them? But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

He paused and gave an almost thoughtful look. “What’s your family known for again?” He suddenly laughed and you couldn’t stop the silent tears that spilled from your eyes. “Ah, that’s it! Something about ashes and trusting one another, hm? Well, then! Do you trust me?”

You held back a choked whine as he spoke but when he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear you quickly thrashed about, loathing the idea of him touching you. 

He hated this.

He slapped you across your face, the impact burning your skin. You cried out. Tears poured out. But you refused to meet his gaze. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the pain and fear in your eyes, again. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and you struggled to keep your breathing with the stress.

Please. Someone, anyone! Will no one find me?

“No wonder he wants a brat like you dead. You think you’re too good for me, hm? You think I’m not worthy of someone like you?” He stood up now, his arms crossed. “Well it’s too late! Once my friend arrives to confirm who you are, you’ll be dead. And I’ll be richer than ever. Richer than your family, that’s for sure. I wonder what I’ll spend it on?”

He backed away, now muttering to himself as he pondered the idea of how to spend his new fortune. You watched him return to his pacing, desperately trying to find a way to loosen your bonds, but it was no use. You had no weapons and the ropes he had tied you with were so tight that any slight movement in your wrists only seemed to tighten them to the point of bruising.

I’m really going to die here, aren’t I?

You sobbed through your gag, your tears staining your face and clothes as you thought about everything that had led you to this point. You thought about your father, now hating him more than ever despite the fact that he had raised you. He was the reason you were about to die alone. You thought about your mother, who had been too depressed to even wish you a proper goodbye. You wondered if she’d ever know how much you were suffering now. And of course, you thought about Erebor and all the new friends you had come to know. You would never see Kíli drunkenly dance again, or Threl try to babysit Fíli’s drunken sentimentality, or even Gimli’s competitive nature combined with Ori’s people-pleasing tendencies. 

None of them would ever see you again.

You thought of Fíli the most. You wondered how he would feel after finding out you died on his watch; you wondered if he’d ever recover. Where was he? Was he out there right now, looking for you somewhere in the market? Or had something happened to him, too? It seemed your attacker didn’t know about him, or even about Erebor. Had Fíli gone back to get help in finding you? Why else had he not found you by now? Surely the city of Dale wasn’t too much ground to cover for such a warrior as he?

I never even told him of my feelings.

You closed your eyes, unconsolable as you cried, hoping everything would be over soon. You had given up hope now, forced to acknowledge that this was the end for you. As soon as your attacker’s contact arrived, you’d be killed. You blamed yourself for believing that hiding away would keep you safe; you blamed yourself even more for your injury, which prevented you from adequately learning any self defense that would’ve helped you in this exact situation. You were outgunned and outplanned. It was hopeless. 

You were going to die here. 

Your assailant continued his pacing, still muttering to himself about all of the fine clothes he would buy for himself once he would be given the bounty, occasionally cursing to himself while wondering when his contact would arrive. A part of you found it ironic that despite how clever he had deemed himself to be in finding you, he still needed someone to double check his homework. If you weren’t gagged and crying, you would’ve probably let him know your thoughts a little too well. 

Knock, knock, knock!

Your heartbeat quickened and your body went on full alert. Fíli quickly came to mind, having grown accustomed to his patterns on your door. But Fíli wasn’t here. He didn’t know where you were. And so, three soft knocks were all it took for you to panic. This was it. You were going to die. Your muffled cries quickly sprang from your throat as your enemy shot you a devious smile before walking to the back of the dark room towards the door. 

You were out of time. 

“Do us both a favor and keep quiet, hm?” He laughed, his hand now resting on the doorknob. “Wouldn’t want this to be any messier than it—“

The door swung open, knocking him down as the air was ripped from his lungs. Your eyes squinted in an effort to make out what had happened, but the force of the door was enough to snuff out the nearby candles that illuminated your unknown enclosure. You hiked your legs closer to you, desperately trying to wrangle your wrists free to no avail. You couldn’t see anything but the noises you were hearing were enough to send your heart leaping out of your chest.

A loud thud sounded as the door creaked again and your assailant let out a pained cry, swearing in pain. Shuffling of feet reached your ears, distant at the other end of the room. More shouts and grunts could be heard, but they were not solely from your attacker. Whoever had entered the room was certainly not his contact. 

A muffled crunch was heard and you winced at the sound of your attacker’s screams of suffering. Had his bones been broken? By who? By what force? Your breathing was ragged and short as you tried to keep quiet, hoping that the mysterious new person couldn’t see or hear you. 

A yelp then a thud, closer now than previously. Followed by a hand gripping your ankle as someone had thrown your attacker towards you. You couldn’t help the scream that left your lungs aching for air as you kicked the hand away and tried your best to shuffle elsewhere.

And then the hand was no more, the sound of dragging and the door gently shutting ringing in your ears as you were left in the dark by yourself.

Your heart was pounding as a cold sweat covered your body, trying to wrap your mind over what had just happened. The ringing in your ears was only growing louder and louder as you tried to recount the last two minutes.

What bothered you more was the lack of sound on the other side of the door. No screams, no shuffles, absolutely nothing. Silence. Eerie silence.

The door creaked open once again and every fiber of your being went on high alert as the sound of footsteps and heavy panting approached you. Quickly, your bonds were cut and hands reached to remove the gag from your tear-stained face.

“Y/N…” Fíli’s voice filled your ears and you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your entire body into his arms, sobs wracking your body. 

“There, you’re safe now, I promise you,” he whispered, his voice quiet in the silence of the room. His arms wrapped around your frame, cradling you in his hold as a safe space while you cried. His grip was tight, as if you would disappear all at once.

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair as you clutched him close to you, desperately wanting to be assured that this was real and you were safe. You needed to prove that he was here. He reciprocated by pulling you so close into him all you could breathe was him. He had found you. Everything was alright.

He raised a hand to your face, gently holding it in his calloused palms as he wiped tears from your eyes. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you would've asked him how he was able to see in such a dark room. But questions would have to come later as your body finally had a chance to process and digest all of the trauma the last hour and half had brought you. You dove your head into his shoulder, weeping tears that stained the fur trim of his tunic. Your hands lost their vice grip on his blonde locks, now falling to his shoulders as you anchored yourself to him. His hand cradled your head, keeping you close to him as he rubbed soothing patterns along your scalp. 

“We must head back.” He waited until your cries had dulled down to silent tears and even breathing before breaking the tense silence in the room, bringing his hands into your own so you could feel that he was here by your side.

You only let out a choked sniffle as a reply, letting him help you up and lead you out the torturous dark.

“What were you doing in Dale?” Thorin’s voice echoed through the stone hall you were all gathered in and to say he was displeased would have been a massive understatement.

The moment you two had made it back inside the gates of Erebor, a worried Kíli and Ori greeted you with upsetting news; apparently, once it had been discovered by Kíli that both of you were nowhere to be found, the king had summoned you. 

“He’s not happy, Fí.” Kíli had warned. “I tried to cover for you, but I haven’t seen him this uneasy in a while. What happened out there?”

“Nothing good,” Ori frowned, inspecting the blood that was spattered on Fíli’s boots and trousers; something you had been too afraid to ask about on the journey back home.

“Where is he, Kíli?” Fíli’s tone was clipped and soft, his eyes unreadable even to you.

Only you and Fíli had been allowed to enter the Great Hall where Thorin Oakenshield resided, forced to meet with him before even thinking of doing anything else.

And now here he sat before you, regal and cold as his stony throne. He glared daggers into the both of you, demanding answers. Answers that Fíli was more than prepared to give.

“I brought them thinking it would do their mind some good,” he was firm in his response, standing at full attention before his uncle and his king.

“Some good?” The king raised a dark bushy brow. “And what good came from it? What good could have possibly come from my nephew rushing home with blood on his hands?”

“I was attacked,” you croaked, your voice weak from crying but you did your best to appear otherwise. “A man who knew of the bounty found me, he told me that they’ve been tracking me.”

“And what else do you expect of them?” Thorin stood, anger in his tone. “Do you understand how much wealth has been placed on your head?”

“Uncle, it wasn’t their fault–” Fíli stepped forward, confused by Thorin’s question, but he was interjected.

“Then tell me, should I blame you? Are you not the one I placed in charge of Y/N?” Thorin began approaching you both, his steps slow and intimidating.

Fíli held his ground, trying his best to sway the king’s mind. “Yes, and as such, I have taken care of the threat. Just like you’ve taught me.”

“Taken care of it?” His uncle repeated. It seemed he would hear none of it. 

But Fíli was persistent. “Both of the hunters who were after Y/N are dead now.”

“And I suppose that it is only a matter of time before Bard learns of this?” 

“You can send a messenger explaining–”

“I have done enough!” Thorin declared, his tone cold as ice as he stood still. His voice echoed in the hall around you, reverberating in your mind. He could not be reasoned with as he glared you and Fíli down, just mere feet in front of you two.

The room fell so silent that you could hear the shallow breaths of the king before you. Fíli took a step to put himself between you and Thorin and it was becoming harder and harder to keep up the brave face.

“I was told you would be safe here, that my people would be safe here.” The king’s cold gaze fixed itself on you now, pointing a finger as he gestured to Fíli. “But my nephew’s sacrifice today is enough to prove otherwise.”

“Uncle, what are you saying–”

“I will send word to Gandalf. I want him back here before the next full moon to discuss new terms. Y/N cannot stay here. Even you must realize this, Fíli.”

Your eyes widened as his words echoed in your mind. Today had already proven that you were not truly safe anywhere and Thorin’s words were enough to convince you that even Erebor wasn’t safe. You felt tears pooling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of Thorin. Not before the King.

“It is no longer safe for any of us to harbor you here,” his words cut through you as he stood tall and firm. I will grant you lodgings only until Gandalf has answered his summons. Until then, I am ordering you not to leave the city again. Perhaps we should even bar you in your own room to prevent it. For if you do leave, I won’t hesitate to take matters into my own hands.”

“And then what?” Fíli exclaimed, growing impatient as he fought for you. He had done so much of that today. “What will you have them do? Sleep on the streets, only to be killed?”

“Once Gandalf returns, their fate is no longer our concern.” Thorin spoke bluntly and despite how cold he was being to you, you knew his words came from the care he felt towards his people. How could you blame him? It wasn’t his fault you had brought him trouble. He was only doing what he thought was best for his people.

“Fíli, it’s alright,” you frowned, raising a hand to rest on his shoulder. “He’s right, it’s not safe for me to be here anymore.”

Fíli whipped his head around to face you, his deep blue eyes full of anger and worry. “And where will you be safe? If there are men in Dale after you, then there are men everywhere. You said so yourself; they’ve been tracking you.”

Thorin watched both of you, an unreadable expression in his eyes as he listened to his nephew’s words.

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before they realize I’m here,” you said. “I’m not safe here, Fíli. Gandalf will know what to do, he has to.”

You weren't sure if you even believed that. After all, Gandalf had been the one who said that Erebor was safe in the first place. But could you truly believe that anymore after the events of today?

Thorin turned back to return to his throne. “I’ve done enough to honor Erebor’s debt to Gandalf. You’re both dismissed; I shall send word for him immediately.”

“There is no need,” an elder voice boomed, shadows dancing around the room as none other than Gandalf stepped before you all. “I have already arrived.”

All three of you turned to the great stone doors of the hall where Gandalf stood with Kíli and Ori by his side.

“And I’m afraid that I bear ill news.”

You stood frozen before the King and the familiar wizard as you watched him enter the room hastily, his robes billowing behind him in an anxious manner as if the fabric had its own emotions. Eyes wide with a tear-stained face, your stomach dropped at the sight of the Grey One. It seemed in the span of a few hours, the life you had accustomed yourself with was crashing once again around you. It had already happened in Gondor and now history was repeating itself in Erebor.

Thorin’s earlier cold gaze was now warming up with an unknown fury as he eyed the wizard down. “How kind of you to show up at–”

“There is no time for games, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf cut him off, his voice booming through the stone hall. There was something different about this Gandalf. What had once been an anxious urgency was now replaced with an air of clear-cut authority. He stood much taller and his brow was more furrowed in his glare sent to the King Under the Mountain.

It terrified you.

“I must speak with Y/N immediately,” he spoke, his eyes now fixated on your shaking form, the steely blue now softening as he made his way to you. “Alone.”

You cast an uneasy gaze at Thorin, who stood furious as all hell. He was quite upset with you and even more so at the gall of this intruder ordering him around. But nevertheless, he did his best to seem composed.

“Everyone, out.” His tone was clipped as his gaze cast fire at Gandalf. Only a moment of hesitation hung in the air before everyone quickly filed out.

Fíli cast an unreadable glance at you before leaving with Kíli and Ori. You desperately wanted him to stay.

It was just Gandalf and Thorin now, seemingly caught in a silent battle of steel and fire. With a short breath, Thorin finally left the hall.

Terrified, you two were now alone.

Quickly, Gandalf’s steely exterior melted into exhaustion and false mirth, eyes softening upon your frightened frame.

“Now Y/N…” His voice muttered. He didn’t know where to start. Even worse, he didn’t know how it would end.

“They found me today,” you admitted softly. It was important to tell him this. “Fíli took me to the market in Dale. I thought I’d be safe here.”

Gandalf stood silent now, allowing you your space as you tried holding back your tears. 

“I don’t know if I can keep living like this, Gandalf. They tied me up in the dark. Like cattle.” You bit your lip, the tears falling as you balled up your fists. You were angry now. It was all you could feel to prevent yourself from breaking down. “I was helpless in there, Gandalf. You said I would be safe here–”

“I said no such thing.” He was stern in everything but his gaze as his soft eyes bore into you. “Safety was never guaranteed.”

A heavy silence fell between you two, your breathing filling the hall as you thought about earlier. How your bindings had stung your wrists, which were certain to be bruised. How the rough fabric of your gag had felt like it was cutting into your skin. How your dying thoughts had been of Fíli.

You’d have to leave him now. There was no reason for you to stay here and it seemed highly unlikely Thorin would continue his generosity after the events of today.

“Where do I go from here?” You asked meekly. Your voice was cracked from a lack of water and the ache of your tears. You desperately needed a bath. You needed a plan even more.

Gandalf sighed. “I came to tell you news of your father.”

Your eyes immediately shot wide open. Your breath hitched for a moment, holding it in anticipation. “What news?”

“I’m afraid the situation in Gondor has only gotten worse.” He explained with a furrow of his brow. “Despite my attempts, the pieces are being placed against us.”

“What are you talking about?” You pressed, ignoring his metaphors.

“Your father has made the Steward aware of who holds this bounty over you. And against my better judgment, the Steward has issued a city-wide search to hunt him down. But I fear that from this, your father and the people of Minas Tirith are in grave danger.”

“But why? Who ordered the bounty?”

“A very old and well-known enemy of the Steward, I’m afraid. He refers to himself as Baldred the Bloody, and the Steward will stop at nothing to see this man’s end.” The wizard’s lip twitched as he spoke, clearly upset at the matter. “Your father was a fool for not keeping his secret.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what this meant for your family. If your father had truly been loaning money from one of the Steward’s most notorious adversaries, it would only spell treason and disgrace to your family name. It didn’t matter if your father and the Steward had known each other for over thirty years. None of the good deeds your father had helped would matter in the grand scheme of this treasonous act. And if the Steward was willing to go to such great lengths to kill this Baldred, there was no telling what would happen to your father.

“They’ll kill him,” you muttered. “Won’t they?”

Gandalf refused to answer, but his eyes told you more than enough. All you needed was a look to tell you your answer.

You fell to your knees, the news weighing down on your already heavy soul. Hadn’t your family already been through enough? Hadn’t you been through enough? 

It was no doubt that all of your father’s mistakes were caused by him alone; it was a trait you despised him for. You loathed how he cowered in his pride, even when it would bring him to his demise. 

But even so, you knew he didn’t deserve death.

“I don’t know how much time he has left. And Baldred will only continue to shed more blood if it means keeping himself hidden from the Steward.” He leaned down to your eye level now, an old and weathered hand resting on top of yours for comfort. But it did little to help.

“I can’t stay here, Gandalf.” You spoke. “I can’t bring Thorin any more trouble than I already have.”

“Whatever you choose to do,” he replied. “Know that you are not alone.”

You nodded, trying your best to believe it yourself. But you’d have to leave Fíli here. And who knows when you’d see Kíli or Ori again. Not to mention, Gandalf couldn’t show up conveniently every time you were in danger.

“Take me home, Gandalf.”

The dice had been cast. You had made up your mind. You would return home in the hopes of being able to help your father in some way. But you didn’t know how or when it would come about. Or most of all, if you would even make it in time.

Your future and the future of those you cared about was now in the hands of the fates. And you could only hope that you would survive to see it.

[fili-urzudel]

A Kiss Hello - Fíli x Reader

Hey guys, look who keeps overcommitting :D

Anyway how about instead of any of the requests I have in my inbox you read a short piece I wrote in November 2022?

Word Count: 0.7k

Warnings: none

Fíli had always thought it was a bit of a strange greeting and goodbye. One kiss to each cheek, your hands easily resting on his shoulders to pull him in. You told him it was normal where you came from, and he supposed he wasn't one to tell you you weren't allowed to practice your culture near him.

It helped that he didn't exactly mind. You had lived with them under the mountain for years, and he was still the only one left with a burning face and butterflies in his stomach once you were out of sight.

"Fíli, this is getting ridiculous," Kíli sighed goofily as they traversed the halls of the mountain, trying to find the longest and most time-consuming route to their meetings. "I can see hearts in your eyes whenever she's around, why don't you just... confess?"

"Because I'm not you, Kíli," Fíli said, a bit agitated. "It's expected of me to find a nice dwarrowdam and settle down, keep our people happy. I can't just... just..."

"Just be happy with the woman you so obviously love?" Kíli interrupted, seemingly unfazed by his brother's sharp words. "You're free to make your own decisions, but I can promise you will live with regret forever if you don't do something. And soon."

Fíli looked slightly up at his younger brother. "What is that supposed to mean? What do you know?"

Kíli shrugged, eyes trained on the path ahead of them. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Kíli!" Fíli felt his frustration rising, and with it, panic. What was happening? What were you going to do? "What, is she going to leave?"

Kíli only looked at him.

The golden prince's heart sank.

Was it his fault?

Fíli paced, wringing his hands, in the marketplace you always seemed to find yourself in, sometimes to sell, sometimes just to shop—oh, how he loved how vibrant you were when you shopped with him.

At this point, his heart was no longer in his stomach, but his feet. He couldn't stand it if you left, all because he chased you away, all because he was stupid and didn't know when to admit it—

"Y/N!" He interrupted his own thoughts, seeing you draw near. You held the basket you always used when shopping, the one he bought you in one of the towns you stopped at, before Erebor had even been won. It was looking a little worse for the wear, but you refused to give it up.

"Fíli!" You called back with a smile, but your eyes looked strained.

He wrestled with his brain, trying to figure out what to say first. His words became an incomprehensible knot. "Are you leaving?" He blurted. He just... he just really needed to know.

"Yes, actually, I am," you admitted, gazing at the floor. "I figured... I don't know, I think it's just time," you nodded, mouth twisted in a sad smile. "I hope you won't miss me too badly."

Fíli's heart raced. "Actually, if I could—"

A voice called out to you, and from the looks of it, it belonged to the head of a caravan you were looking to travel with.

"I'm so sorry, it looks like I have to go," you apologized, moving forward to bid him goodbye.

First, it was the right cheek, and as you moved to kiss his left, he turned, catching your lips with his.

The contact was fleeting, you startling back, flustered. "Oh, goodness, I'm sorry—"

You were still only centimeters from him. "Don't go," he murmured, moving to kiss you again. He didn't want to leave any doubt in your mind—that was not an accident.

His heart fluttered as he felt you kiss back, tilting your head as his hand rose to cup your face.

"I won't," you said as you pulled away, hot breath fanning across his face.

He felt eyes on the two of you from all sides. There would be no hiding this, no killing rumors or trying to keep a secret. "Good," he said, his lips still almost touching yours.

He had always liked your goodbyes, but this new beginning was much better.

[lathalea]

The Shrieking Monster

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ This is a gift for @babe-bombadil as part of the @whiteoliphaunt 2023 exchange. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Happy New Year everyone! 🥳

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield & Dis & little Fili & Kili Rating: G Warnings: family fluff Author's notes: A story set in the Blue Mountains about Thorin trying to be both a ruler and a good uncle at once. Young Fili and Kili are making it a tad difficult in their own cute way. Special thanks to @naryaflame for your linguistic help with a name :) If you prefer, you can read this fic on AO3.

Khuzdul: Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls, the settlement of the refugees from the Lonely Mountain in the Blue Mountains Amad - mother

1. 

It was a perfect morning. Thorin stretched and yawned, settling himself on his favourite chair in the kitchen. The air that whiffed into the dwarven stronghold from the outside felt warm on his cheeks and smelled like spring. As he sipped his morning tea, that strong, aromatic blend Dori bought in Bree, his sister appeared at the threshold. She gave Thorin a bright smile and, seeing her steaming mug on the table, she sat next to him. The lazy silence of the early hours of the day was soon broken by the appearance of two dishevelled pebbles, one with a thatch of golden hair, the other – with his hair as brown as a bear’s fur in winter. After the mandatory morning hugs, Thorin readied breakfast while Dís prepared her sons for the day, humming to herself. Thorin could not stop himself from smiling. His sister was probably already thinking of her visit to the market. She adored going there in the morning, especially on the days when the merchants arrived with new goods – and today was one of those days. Thorin sighed. As much as he wanted her to have a very much needed moment of respite – his sister-sons were quite a handful, to put it mildly – he was painfully aware of what it was going to mean to him. Half a day of having his eyes around his head and his ears pricked up for any unusual noises they may create… or worse – the ominous silence. In the past, there was only a handful of moments when he and Dís realised that the boys went completely silent. It never bode well. 

This day, however, started with the pitter-patter of the boys’ bare feet, chatter and laughter, and the clatter of their bowls as they ate their oatmeal. Dís reminded them to behave while she was gone, and left for the market. Fíli seemed very content about this state of things, knowing well by now that staying with his mother’s brother meant visiting various places in these halls, like forges, or assisting Thorin in other exciting ways. It was different with Kíli – his loud wails of protest at being so cruelly abandoned reverberated against the walls of their home. Thorin imagined they must have followed their mother through the corridors of Thorinuldûm for a long while. Her Little Bear, as Dís called him, was still too young to understand the connection between Mommy leaving, and the sudden appearance of candied rhubarb or his favourite cream toffees.

Distracting Kíli from his misery was not easy, but Thorin managed it by offering to take the boys for a new adventure. Their big blue eyes shone as he told them they would be going to the lower levels of the city together. It was a real treat – Kíli had never been there before and Fíli visited them only a handful of times.

Thorin had a mind to visit the Engineers’ Quarter and show the lads around while discussing some technical issues with one of the water engineers. And so they began their adventure. As they descended down the wide stone stairs Kíli stumbled and yawned, so Thorin decided to carry him the rest of the way. Soon Little Bear began snoring in his arms, and Thorin attempted to ignore the fact that his own tunic was becoming gradually soaked through with his nephew’s saliva. He also started suspecting that the moniker “Little Bear” must have surely come from the fact that Kíli seemed to weigh more and more with every step, like a true bear.

“At least he is not crying,” Thorin muttered to himself, and kept on walking. Thank Mahal for silver linings.

As they arrived at their destination, however, the situation got worse. The Engineers’ Quarter was a crowded place that smelled like tar, coal, and burned leather. Not minding the much larger adult dwarves in their soot-stained clothes who carried – or carted – their wares from one place to another, curious Fíli began rushing between them, oblivious of the chaos he was creating. He took a look at the wheelwright’s workshop here, and then he had to see the toolmaker’s booth there; he then insisted on seeing how parchment was being made, and attempted to find the place where they manufactured those shiny cogwheels. If not for his golden mane, Thorin would have lost his nephew at least a couple of times. Brór, the water engineer he had a meeting with, joined Thorin in the chase for the high-spirited boy. Instead of looking at the water supply pipeline blueprints and trying to fix a problem with water pressure, they ended up unwillingly playing a hide-and-run game to the delight of the onlookers. Seeing your own king running back and forth through the great cavern with one giggling pebble strapped to his chest while chasing after the other one must have been very amusing… for anyone but him, Thorin thought with resignation. His resignation grew even more when he noticed Fíli climbing onto a tall work table… and jumping down onto a heap of coal.

When Thorin finally caught the runaway, they were both out of breath. Although it was rather Fíli who caught his uncle – the boy ran into him and clung to his left leg as if a throng of orcs chased him.

Fíli raised his teary-eyed face to Thorin and sobbed out, “A monster wanted to eat meeee…”

“A monster? Here?” Thorin’s brow furrowed.

It took him a while to reassure Fíli that no monster was going to eat him. In turn, Thorin promised to get rid of the said monster that apparently lurked in a nearby chamber, and shrieked at him. He left his nephews in the care of Brór who tried to look solemn, but his twitching lips betrayed him. Thorin grunted and entered the chamber, carefully looking around, adjusting his eyes to the dark surroundings. And then he saw two glowing points of red. And heard the shrieking.

2.

When Thorin returned to Brór, Kíli was fast asleep once again. Leaving Little Bear in the engineer’s care once again, he took Fíli’s hand and led him to the entrance of the dark chamber. When they opened the door, they both heard the continuous shrieking now. His nephew stopped and refused to walk inside, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

“There are no monsters here, Fíli.” Thorin reassured the boy. “See for yourself.”

“Nnoooo…” muttered Fíli, hiding behind his uncle.

“Do not be afraid,” Thorin added. “Nothing will hurt you here. I promise.”

On the bench by the door stood a lantern. It took him a moment to light it. With the lantern in hand, Thorin crossed the threshold and approached the nearest lantern that hung on the wall, and then another, and another. Soon, the whole chamber was bright as day, each lantern giving off a pleasant yellow glow.

“You can come in now,” Thorin smiled encouragingly.

With his ears covered and his eyes set on the shrieking, wobbling entity in the middle of the chamber, Fíli shook his head.

“This is not a monster.” Thorin stepped towards the huge bulbous shape that made so much noise. He placed his hand on the top of the strange shaking thing and added, “This is a washing barrel.”

Fíli blinked and took a good look at it. The two red glowing points did not look like a pair of evil eyes any longer. Those were two ball-shaped lanterns standing on top of the… thing. That shrieking noise now seemed to sound like a couple of cogwheels that needed a bit of oil, and not like a monster’s screech. And the arm that seemed to reach out to grab him before, turned out to be a cast iron lever.

“A… barrel?” Fíli looked at his uncle and took one uncertain step towards him and the strange contraption.

“Correct. A barrel that washes your clothes,” Thorin explained in an even voice and at the same moment the shrieking stopped. “Look, it has just finished the washing cycle. Let me show you how it works. First, you open this hatch, like so… Watch out for the water! These clothes are clean, they only need to be wrung out and dried.”

As he spoke, Fíli slowly started closing the distance between them, his eyes becoming wider and wider.

“... but if you want to wash your clothes,” Thorin continued, “you need to put them inside, here, and add some soap suds. Then you close the hatch, pour some water here, crank this lever a few times, do this, like so, and wait for the washing barrel to finish its work!”

Thorin kept on talking until Fíli seemed to be completely in awe of this new piece of machinery, his fear completely forgotten. He peppered his uncle with tons of questions: how many cogwheels were there, how many times one should crank the lever, what the barrel was made of… and so on, and so forth. When they left the chamber, there was a big smile on the boy’s lips instead of tears. 

On their way back home Fíli exclaimed, “This was the bestest adventure ever!”

Thorin thought that sometimes being an uncle happened to be quite rewarding. Even if his tunic was still wet from Kíli’s sleepy drooling.

***

His attitude completely changed less than half an hour later, when his nephews disappeared. Both of them. At once.

Stumbling over several painfully angular wooden toys, Thorin searched the boys’ bedroom. Nothing. He even looked under their beds (twice!), but there was no sign of the boys anywhere. They weren't sitting in the common kitchen nor searching for snacks in the pantry. Nor in Dwalin’s rooms where Kíli liked to play hide-and-scare with the big warrior. There were nowhere to be found – not in the rocking chair by the fireplace, nor even in Balin’s study by that large desk where Fíli liked to play so often. Thorin closed his eyes. If he did not find his nephews before Dís returned from the market, his sister would have Thorin’s own head on a spike. The wrath of dwarf-women was ten times fiercer than the one of dwarf-men. In the case of his little sister, the number was much higher, at least a hundred times. And Thorin would do everything he could to avoid being on the receiving end of it.

There was no time to lose. He recruited Dwalin, Óin, and Halkatla, Balin’s wife, to the task of finding the boys, but they returned empty-handed. No one had seen the boys since their early lunch. Then, they were supposed to take a nap, and Thorin remembered their yawning as they closed the door to their bedroom behind him.

And now they were gone. Kidnapped? — No, impossible, Thorin thought. Dwarves cherished their children like the greatest treasures they were, and no one else was allowed into Thorinuldûm. There were no goblins nor other dangers here either. It felt as if the boys magically disappeared in a puff of smoke. Thorin looked around the wide corridor he stood in, but he found no traces of the missing boys.

“Have you checked all of their favourite places?” Halkatla asked, her red-and-silver braids clinking as she turned her head towards Óin.

“Aye, we did,” he nodded. “Not a sign of them.”

“Those wee rascals! I bet they are up to somethin’.” Dwalin said. “They remind me of us. Remember that time, Thorin, when we were around their age or so, and half of Erebor was lookin’ for us all day long?”

“It would be difficult to forget it,” Thorin admitted. “We wanted to avoid another boring lesson with our tutor…”

“...and instead we went to explore the mines! What a shame we lost our way,” Dwalin grinned and nudged him. “It was fun!”

“Aye, fun on an empty belly. If only you had not forgotten our food,” Thorin replied, relieved that his nephews had a proper meal at least.

“If only ye had not forgotten that map ye were supposed to borrow from your father’s desk,” Dwalin chuckled.

Before Thorin could form an adequate riposte, a mousy-haired dwarf approached him.

“M’lord, Master Brór says that the pipeline is fully functional again,” the messenger bowed.

Thorin gave him a nod of thanks. At least he brought a piece of good news. Master Brór was a skilled engineer, and the way he handled Thorin’s own sister-sons…

“Either way,” Dwalin continued, “we had a real adventure on that day, hadn’t we, Thorin?”

A thought appeared in Thorin’s mind. Master Brór. An adventure.

“There was one place where we have not searched yet,” he turned to his companions.

“I am listening,” Halkatla tilted her head, reminding him of a curious raven.

“The Engineers’ Quarters.”

***

Master Brór was more than happy to receive words of thanks from Thorin in person for fixing that pipeline issue once and for all. Despite Thorin’s hopes, he had not seen Fíli or Kíli since they left the Engineers’ Quarters with their uncle earlier that day. Dwalin muttered a curse under his breath.

“Well, that’s it. I’m goin’ to check the workshops,” the warrior said.

“I’ll take the ones on the left, you take the ones on the right,” Halkatla followed him.

“Let’s go,” Dwalin replied, his voice trailing off as he walked away. “And those wee cave bats would better be there or I swear…”

Master Brór addressed Thorin, “I will spread the word as you requested, my lord. Someone must have seen them, I am certain of it. They could not have simply disappeared.”

Thorin agreed with him and began his own search. The rocks could not have swallowed them whole! Magic was out of the question as well, there had to be a logical solution to this! Thoring pulled at his short beard in frustration. Wandering through the area and looking for any signs of his nephews in places they visited earlier that day, he wondered if Óin had any luck. The healer was waiting at their home in case Fíli and Kíli returned there on their own. Perhaps the three of them were already sitting by the fire, with Óin telling the boys countless amusing stories, while Thorin and his companions were checking every nook and cranny on the lower level, going out of their minds with worry. He raised his head, listening to a peculiar sound and trying to figure out its source. It sounded like… shrieking. It was not at all difficult to recall Fíli’s eyes shining with fear, awe, and then curiosity at the sight of the washing barrel.

Without thinking, Thorin turned his steps towards the chamber that housed the “monster” Fíli had been so afraid of not so long ago.

When Thorin arrived at his destination, the door was ajar. Thorin could hear the shrieking very well, but there were other sounds too. Very familiar sounds.

He took a deep breath and shouted, “Dwalin! I found them!”

***

When Thorin stepped inside the chamber, the sounds became even clearer. One of them he identified as uncontrollable giggling, and the other one, slightly muted, sounded like: “Woooo! Woooo! Wooooo! A carousel! Woooo! Faster, Fíli! Woooo!”

Thorin breathed out a sigh of relief only to be struck by a pang of dread a moment later.

Fíli stood by the washing barrel, cranking the lever, grinning from ear to ear, and laughing. Kíli was nowhere to be seen, but his enthusiastic shouts seemed to be coming from inside of the barrel. Inside, not outside. Thorin swallowed; he considered screaming in terror, but something told him that this was most definitely an example of behaviour unworthy of a king. It took him a moment to melt the ball of ice that was forming in his stomach. He closed the distance between him and the barrel in a blink of an eye.

Thank Mahal, the hatch was open. Inside, Kíli sat with his back against a wall of the large metal container inside the machine, surrounded by various articles of laundry, with a happy grin on his face, and a stray sock on top of his head. A wave of relief washed over Thorin.

“Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin!” Fíli exclaimed. “We’re playing carousel! Want to jump in?”

Thorin did not.

“It is time to return home, boys,” Thorin simply said, taking Kíli out of the barrel. His clothes were damp and he smelled like those violet flowers Dís liked so much, but other than that, he looked happy, and what’s more important, he was in one piece – just like his older brother.

“But uncle...” Fíli started.

“Your amad will be home soon. Do you not want to see what she bought at the market?”

“A sugar horse? She promised!” The boy recalled his favourite treat.

Holding Kíli firmly against his chest with one arm, Thorin held out his hand to Fíli.

“Let us go and see,” he said with a smile as his nephew’s tiny hand grabbed his.

There would yet be time for scolding and for a conversation about not sneaking out anywhere alone, but for now, the only thing that Thorin wanted was to safely bring his little rascals home.

He only hoped they would manage to reach their halls before Dís returned.

***

When Dís crossed the threshold of their home later in the afternoon, she was greeted by complete silence. Her sons were nowhere to be seen, which was very suspicious. They were always the first ones to run to her and see what she brought them this time. She expected Thorin to welcome her and help her unpack her basket, as usual — but he was not there either. Was this that ominous silence she dreaded so much whenever her boys were executing another of their silly mischiefs? Not really. It seemed as if their home was empty… until she heard a familiar sound coming from a nearby chamber. Dís put the basket on the floor and tiptoed deeper into their halls.

The picture that unfolded before her eyes was the last thing she had expected. Her brother was half sitting, half lying on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head resting on the backrest, his eyes closed. Fíli was cuddled up to his uncle’s side, his hair tousled, making her think of a skein of golden yarn. Kíli lay on the opposite side of his uncle, his head resting on Thorin’s lap and turned towards her. He had his thumb in his mouth. Dís could clearly see the darker stain of drool on her brother’s trousers and stifled a giggle. 

All three of them were asleep, of course. And all three of them were snoring in perfect unison. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that she had a working sawmill in front of her.

This scene was too adorable for Dís to interrupt it, so she decided that she would let her three boys sleep a little longer. There was no harm in a little nap, after all. Besides, she was tired, and there was still some space left on the sofa…As she drifted off to sleep beside them, her last conscious thought was: “Why do all three of them smell like my lavender laundry soap?”

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[ironmandeficiency]

the hobbit + hozier songs

characters included: kíli, bilbo, dwalin, thorin, nori, bofur, ori, fíli, dori, tauriel

word count: 1166

a/n: the amazing and precious @wordbunch inspired me to write these bc of her lotr/th characters as taylor swift songs posts & i couldn't be more excited to finally post this labor of love!! thank you bestie for listening to me scream abt this for nearly two months lol

kíli: foreigner’s god

he loves outside of his race and this fact causes undue scorn to be thrown at his feet. it’s unheard of for almost any dwarf, let alone one from the line of durin, to do such a thing. this does not deter him - it empowers him; if his heart could go against the traditions forged into his bones, molten in his hot blood, how could it not be true? the strength of his love is what helps him ignore the doubts shouted by the prejudice plaguing those who know nothing of his heart. that, and the sound of your laughter at his antics, the soft smiles only given to him when he’s being a little too charming… he could go on.

bilbo: like real people do

as much flack as bilbo gets from the company for not being conventionally tough, he’s not weak by any means. he’s familiar with the pain of loss, and how the ways one tries to rise above the grief that follows aren’t always savory. he knows there’s a respect to be found in the absence of prying questions, choosing simply to coexist in the feelings and allow answers to come in their own sweet time. he’ll put some tea on to cook and scrounge up some leftovers from the previous meal, sitting beside you and letting the comfort flow naturally, his soft lips soothing the most tender aches.

dwalin: work song

just looking at him, you wouldn’t think dwalin a sap. but with his insanely strong sense of loyalty and stalwart dedication, he can’t be anything but. he’s faced down innumerable evils in his time, braved the fiercest of storms that many of his comrades didn’t; none of them even come close to keeping him from you. your arms welcome him home without question after each fight he braves, and your letters tucked into secret compartments in his armor keep him warm between embraces. he’ll read them by the fire every night when he’s away, every gentle word carrying his mind away from thoughts of the day’s turmoil.

thorin: sedated

this sweet, sad man doesn’t think he deserves good things in life. this, unfortunately, includes having someone love him despite his flaws and past mistakes. he couldn’t resist admitting his feelings for you and was ridiculously shocked that you reciprocated & allowed him to love you. on nights when he feels his failures deeper, he’ll try to convince you that he doesn’t deserve you. vitriol will escape from worried lips and terrified heart, piercing you in the way only a lover knows how. a soft kiss, gentle words, and a few strokes through his hair will soothe these wounds from him for a time and allow him some of the peace he’s fought to find, but doesn’t always believe is earned.

nori: it will come back

it was decades since the last time nori thought of love, even longer since he believed himself worthy of it. meeting you only solidified his disbelief; how could someone look at him and see someone that deserved such a pure thing, after everything he’s done in his life? he’s stolen, lied, cheated, and killed to survive (and sometimes not for mere survival). his attempts to spurn you away from him only increased your determination to break through the fortress he built around himself. he could only be strong against your advances for so long before he crumbled, reluctantly accepting the love and peace and safety you offered so freely.

bofur: nobody

bofur’s done a lot in his time. he was born in the blue mountains, a colony that never seemed to find the prosperity needed to do more than simply survive. he is a brother, uncle, cousin, friend, toymaker, miner, member of the great company that reclaimed erebor. but through all his adventures and hardships, he never lost his playful streak. he wants to have fun with who he loves, wants a little bit of mischief to make his laugh louder and brighter. bofur is a fun-loving soul who, despite his wandering past, will always choose you over anywhere that you’re not.

ori: francesca

ori’s life has never been a peaceful one. being raised by dori and being followed by the whispers of his late amad’s reputation (not to mention nori’s) without a mountain to call home, it weighed on his shoulders. even his craft, the pride of every dwarrow worth their beard, happened to be one seen as miniscule in importance compared to smithing. every moment spent with his one, doing anything or nothing at all, eases the burden he carries and makes every moment of strife worth it just to be with the soul made to mirror his.

fíli: i, carrion (icarian)

your love for him seems almost too good to be true, the remnants of stories told in dusty tomes written by those with far more eloquence than he can claim to possess. that being said, he is definitely not one to look a gift boar in the mouth. he relishes in each tender moment, every second spent in your presence that carries him far beyond the constraints life has placed upon him. but he recognizes that life isn’t always so simple, retreating into your arms and wishing that everything around you both just disappears. there’s always reality, waiting patiently outside of your chambers for one faulty misstep to throw you both askew. that’s why he dedicates himself to showing you that if life does what it does best and deals harsh blows, he will be there for you through it all.

dori: shrike

dori never had time for love; he had two brothers to protect, one more wily than the other was young. his focus was on getting his brothers through the days, putting food on their plates and the semi-frequently used stash of bail money well-stocked. he allowed his feelings for his one to fall to the wayside in the name of preservation. he ignored their call for decades and braved out the pain that came with such a silence. he begged for his one’s forgiveness every time they called for him. but once the mountain was reclaimed and his brothers safe, he yearned for what he could have had. he would approach his one with much regret and sorrow for the time lost, but a pure hope that they could find forgiveness in their heart for him.

tauriel: unknown/nth

to earn her love is a feat unlike that which the world has known for a long time. being seen as worth all these mortal struggles and painful toils in the eyes of an elf, let alone one as fierce as tauriel, is quite the achievement to anyone outside looking in. to the red-haired warrior in question, though, giving her love to you has the same unthinking ease as breathing; it’s beyond instinct to do and just as necessary to her survival. you’re worth every century spent alone, every moment after knowing you spent away from you.

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Word Count: 6,003

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Bilbo wakes up…

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Warning:

No one’s getting horribly mangled, murdered or deep-fried just warning.

Note:

Guys I’ve edited this and edited this and fixed it a million times and I am convinced I’ve lost all meaning to words, if there’s anything wrong or anything that doesn’t make any sense at all let me know.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Bilbo found himself waking up to the soft sounds of a distant waterfall and the chirping of birds. His body felt heavy with exhaustion, but the sheets beneath him were light and soft, the air was filled with a familiar faint floral scent mingled with the sharper smell of herbs. 

He blinked slowly, the room around him coming into focus, a gentle light filtering through the sheer curtains, there was a gentle breeze brushing through the room.

Bilbo turned his head away from the light, feeling a dull throb coming from his head and a tender pain in his side. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan as he tried to sit up. Suddenly, a wave of nauseating dizziness washed over him.

Bilbo let out a whine of pain. A rough hand found its way to his chest and back, steadying him. Bilbo opened his eyes quickly and followed the arm until Óin appeared at his side.

The healer offered him a kind look, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as he helped Bilbo into a more comfortable position. “Easy there, lad,” Óin murmured. “You’ve been through quite a bit. No need to rush things.”

Bilbo nodded, his gaze drifting to the window. Outside, the world seemed so serene, the river glistening in the sunshine, its surface like glass. 

He suddenly felt worlds away when he remembered his tumble down that slope. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head and decided to look around.

“How long have I been here?” Bilbo asked, his throat felt dry and scratchy from disuse, he tried to clear it but found it no use.

Óin disappeared from his side for a moment before returning with some water. “Three days,” Óin replied. “I’ve done what I can with a little elven healing on the side.” He said as he helped Bilbo drink. 

The water was cool and refreshing as it eased the dryness in Bilbo’s throat. He let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you, Óin.” Suddenly a memory hit him and his brows furrowed. “Gandalf, I-I was traveling with him…Óin, Is he-?”

“He’s fine lad! Knew you were a little out of it from the fall didn’t think it was that bad-” Óin chuckled. “He’s outside, keeping an eye on things. You gave everyone a scare.”

Bilbo managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.” 

“Nonsense,” Óin said gruffly. A kind look found the old healer's face as he spoke.“Just focus on getting better, alright?” And Bilbo couldn’t help but nod.

But as the days passed and his strength slowly returned, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that settled in his chest, that something was wrong or misplaced.

And being confined to bed was driving him mad. He began wanting for a distraction, for something to take his mind off his new weird feelings.

One morning, after a lot of “please, Óin!” and “I promise, Óin,” and “just for a bit at least! You won’t be far away, I’ll call for you if I feel sick suddenly,” Bilbo finally managed to convince Óin to let him have visitors.

Bilbo felt his face light up when Gandalf entered the room, carrying a stack of books from Elrond’s library, a familiar glint nestled kindly in Gandalf’s eye.

“I thought you might enjoy some light reading,” Gandalf said, setting the books down on the bedside table. “I’ve also brought a friend.”

“A friend?” Bilbo echoed excitedly, was it Thorin, was Thorin here and the Dwarf was simply not allowed to see Bilbo yet?

But a bit of that hope flattened when a small black shape fluttered through the doorway, it was Hugin. Bilbo smiled kindly all the same though as Hugin perched on the bedpost. The bird ruffled his feathers and tilted his head at Bilbo.

“Hugin!” Bilbo said as excitedly as he could. “It’s good to see you.”

Hugin flapped his wings once, hopping in place a bit. “Good to see you too, Master Baggins! I had delivered your letter and then all of a sudden I was sent here!”

Gandalf smiled at the two and excused himself to speak with an elf who called for him at the door, leaving Bilbo and Hugin alone. 

Bilbo leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Hugin, do you know if Thorin is coming? Did you hear anything when you delivered my letter?”

The raven blinked thoughtfully. “Well, I delivered your letter, I had a nice time there, Thorin keeps all kinds of tasty treats but nothing like you Master Baggins”

“Hugin, call me Bilbo, I’m not anything’s master” Bilbo said, rattling it off like he had said it a dozen times before.

“Right, yes, of course Master Baggins.” And Bilbo sighed loudly as the raven continued. “I was then sent away here with a letter from King Thorin. He looked really upset…” 

“What did it say?” Bilbo whispered to the raven, he felt his stomach begin to tie knots.

“I didn’t know, but I do remember that King Thorin said it was about you.” Hugin did his best attempt at a shrug. “I flew here as fast as I could and handed it over to the wizard when I saw him. After that Óin showed up!”

“Just Óin…he showed up alone? Do…do you think Thorin is mad at me? I am sure I am very late by now.”

“Master Baggins! How dare you suggest that! King Thorin cares for you very much! Thorin didn’t seem mad so maybe he’s already on his way to visit! And maybe Thorin is running late- oh! Or got lost! You know how he gets”

Bilbo chuckled and nodded, “yes I do, thank you Hugin…is there anything else…?”

“Yes! There was much whispering and fussing between the wizard, the healer, and the Lord of Rivendell; it started a few days after Óin showed up.”

Bilbo’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, whispering?”

Hugin nodded vigorously. “Aye, secretive talk. They all acted a bit strange, As if they were waiting for something… maybe something bad…?”

Before Bilbo could press further, Gandalf returned with a gentle smile. “I see you two are catching up,” he said lightly, though his eyes seemed to be studying Bilbo carefully.

Bilbo nodded, dropping the line of questioning for the moment. “Yes, it’s been quite nice. Thank you Gandalf.”

Gandalf simply nodded, settling back into the chair by the bed. “Now, tell me, Bilbo, have you read up on Rivendell’s history? I thought you might find it fascinating.”

Bilbo smiled, letting the conversation shift, but a seed of unease had been planted, it made Bilbo feel something, something weird. Bilbo felt something, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. His unease was growing, and he knew that something was about to happen. He was sure of it.

A few days passed, and Bilbo was feeling well enough to sit up for longer periods.  Lord Elrond came to visit him in his room, Elrond smiled as he greeted Bilbo “How are you feeling, Master Baggins?” Elrond's voice was gentle as he took a seat by the bedside.

“Lord Elrond! It’s good to see you again! And I’m the master of nothing, call me Bilbo, as I had asked several times before.” 

Elrond chuckled and smiled, "Forgive me, Bilbo. It has been a long time since I have seen you, and old habits die hard." Bilbo grinned back, “Now tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Oh! Well, Óin says I'm getting better,” Bilbo replied. “Though, I do wish I could get out of bed. I feel horribly useless just lying here.”

Elrond chuckled softly. “Rest is a form of healing too, my friend. Your body needs time to recover.”

Bilbo gave Elrond a playful glare “I know that rest is a type of healing, but, I’m a restless hobbit!”

“Didn’t Mithrandir- Gandalf steal away some books for you?” and Bilbo could not stop himself from sighing at the elf’s words.

“A few, yes, but there is only so much reading can do for you! I’ve already read them twice over-“ Bilbo glared at the books that were now on a table across the room, he had read them not too long after Gandalf left. 

“Twice! You just got them only a few days ago, how in the name of Ennor did you manage that?” the elven lord raised a brow as he asked. Bilbo thought it looked a little out of place on the elf's face.

Bilbo huffed and snuggled back into his bedding, “I like reading…” he looked up when the Elven lord laughed. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“No- no! you misunderstand, you are such a curious hobbit, I’ll see about getting you something more to read soon” Elrond said after he calmed down.

Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms with a grumpy pout “I like histories and botany books”

“Of course” Elrond offered him a kind smile and Bilbo found himself smiling back. They settled into more boring topics as they spoke for a while longer. 

Sometimes turning the conversation to discuss Rivendell and the beauty of the valley. It felt all perfectly regular and Bilbo could feel some of that unease wash away from him.

Not long after Elrond left, Hugin came fluttering through his room window. The raven circled around for a bit before settling down on Bilbo’s bed.

The raven greeted Bilbo with a cheerful caw hopping over excitedly before dropping a small blue flower onto his lap. “I thought you might like this, Master Baggins,” Hugin chirped.

Bilbo smiled, picking up the flower. The color reminded him of Thorin, he brushed one of its petals with a soft smile. “Thank you, Hugin. It’s lovely.” He paused, ‘…Thorin.’ He heard his mind echo to him.

He sat up a little straighter, as far as he could stand without help, “Hugin” Bilbo started trying to keep his voice even and quiet, “can you tell me more about this letter you delivered from Erebor? Did you talk to Thorin?”

Hugin tilted his head. “Of course! I stayed in his chambers for a while, it was too cold on Raven hill.”

“You did? Can you tell me about him? How is he?” Blibo asked, it wasn’t the line of questioning he had meant to ask, but it was to late.

Hugin hopped into Bilbo’s lap and settled down comfortably, “Thorin looked fine, he looked like he always does-well, his Beard is getting long! He had a bead in it-“

“It’s already that long? Last time I saw him it was still short. Do you think he looks handsome like that?” Bilbo tisked and rolled his eyes, he reached to scratch Hugin’s head. “I told him if he grew his beard out he’d look handsome- always complaining about how ugly he is, can you believe that?”

The bird cooed at the scratches, Hugin huffed when Bilbo stopped, but decided to answer one of Bilbo’s questions “Thorin did kinda seem upset about something, but not mad. More worried, he was always pacing. I think he misses you, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo’s heart ached at the thought. “I miss him too,” he whispered. “I hope I see him soon…”

“Master Baggins, I told you, he’s gonna visit you, just give him time. Be patient!” Hugin cawed at him.

“Say you, you nearly had a fit when I told you dinner would be in a few minutes” Bilbo teased the bird.

“I had already waited hours!!” Hugin whined as he fluffed up

Bilbo gave a look he was sure his mother used to give him when he was acting out. “You had just finished eating less than an hour before!”

“But I was so hungry!” Hugin whined, the bird flopped over onto his back and looked at Bilbo “you were trying to starve me!”

“Hugin!” Bilbo laughed as the Raven kept whining. He couldn’t help but find it funny. And he gladly welcomed the change of topics. At least for now.

One afternoon, Bilbo had to convince Óin again, swearing he’d be fine. And after some more promising Bilbo found himself in a chair on a balcony.

It was a very nice day, strangely warm and the way the sun hit made Bilbo stretch out as much as he could comfortably in the chair he was in.

Bilbo smoked on his pipe peacefully. He blew a smoke ring and watched as it peacefully drifted away in a soft breeze. “I remember when we first came here, I spent most of my time exploring.” 

Bilbo looked over to the wizard next to him, Gandalf was giving him a soft smile, “I believe you did if I remember correctly. I believe I also remember you and Thorin disappearing for a time; I wonder what for.” The wizard hummed.

Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat, he ignored the last part of Gandalf’s sentence, he spouted whatever came to mind first. “Do you think he’ll come?” 

Gandalf raised a bushy brow at Bilbo as he smoked his own pipe, Gandalf blew rings that floated around him. Each ring a different color, they curled and weaved into one another.

“Who my dear boy?” Gandalf asked after blowing another ring.

“Thorin, do you think he’ll come…?” Bilbo rolled his pipe in his hands nervously.

“Ah….” Gandalf hummed for a moment, seemingly hesitating before smiling widely at him. “Perhaps? Though this seems more a question for Óin.”

“Óin…?” Bilbo echoed back, he looked over at Gandalf again.

Gandalf simply hummed and nodded his head before going back to smoking his pipe, Bilbo nodded to himself and decided he’d ask the Dwarf later.

When Óin agreed Bilbo’s health had improved enough to be allowed to explore the Last Homely House east of the sea. Though he had been there before, had already explored, He couldn’t help but find himself wandering the halls and gardens.

He remembered his first time there all over again. How the places felt like a haven to him. Other feelings he felt then came back to him, though not all were good feelings the sense of wonder was felt the most. 

With each step though the Elven halls, it brought relief to his crowded mind. He had begun to worry more over Thorin, his feelings for the dwarf and if everyone else was right.

He wanted to see Thorin badly, he had to see him. And as much as he wanted to ask Óin he couldn’t. He was scared of what the healer would tell him.

What if all his worries were true, what if Thorin really didn’t want to see him, ‘what if he hates me?’ Bilbo stilled at the thought.

‘What if he hates me…?’ Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. ‘What if he send another letter and he tells me he never wants to talk to me again? Tells me I should had stayed in the shire?’

Bilbo shook his head trying to chase the thoughts away again, he tried to focus on the feeling of the magic that was wrapping around him like a warm hug.

It brought with it memories that began to replace the foul thoughts in his head. Thoughts of home, of distant moments when he would come home with sticks and leaves in his hair, trailing in mud and fireflies.

His mother would march him off for a bath with the promise of stories of elves and all her adventures if he were to listen to her. Memories of how she would wrap him nicely in a warm towel.

Memories of his father and watching him sit at his desk, writing for long hours, Bilbo remembered how he would walk over and try and watch them his father would pull him to his lap and let Bilbo read as he wrote.

Memories began to mix, and change into different memories, ones that were not as distant of memories. Most were of a raven haired king, of how he was wrapped in a warm embrace.

He looked out over the garden, his mind wondered back to when he had last seen Thorin. The days they spent together when he visited, were lovely.

They had spent long hours walking the winding roads of the shire, telling stories and having a wonderful time.

He smiled widely as he stepped foot onto one of the garden’s paths. He began to trail slowly through the garden, the flowers still bloomed despite the cooler weather. Bilbo wondered if it was strange magic there that allowed them to.

Bilbo sighed and brushed his fingers along some vines that bloomed beautifully with flowers. He stopped at some soft blue flowers. He felt like they were glaring at him.

And then Bilbo was reminded, reminded of everything he was worried about and the growing unease that had begun to take root within him. And from there it only got worse.

It started with the small things, as all problems seem to do. He began to notice how Óin had begun to sneak away to speak in hushed tones with Gandalf or the Elves. 

And had even frequently caught the dwarven healer staring at him, his brow furrowed in thought, or pacing the halls while muttering to himself. 

The more Bilbo began to notice, the more he watched, the stranger things seemed, and he felt that something incredibly important was being kept from him.

One afternoon, Bilbo took a chance to explore more of Rivendell on his own. He wasn’t meant to be up that day, but Óin was preoccupied, so Bilbo took the moment to escape. 

That’s how he found himself in a dining hall, where an open letter lay on the table. Clearly forgotten by the elf lord or otherwise. Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of him, he leaned over and read a few lines.

Bilbo’s heart sinking as he read and learned, the letter spoke of dark forces gathering in the Gap of Rohan and spreading towards Mirkwood. 

Bilbo felt the uneasy feeling climb higher, something sick scratched and clawed inside him. Bilbo couldn’t understand it, didn’t want to, he was afraid but why? The issue was so far away and he was among eleven magics.

But before he could pull himself into a true panic, Óin spoke from behind him. “What do you think you’re doing, Bilbo?” Bilbo could hear the concern in the healers voice even when he tried to mask it with gruffness. “Didn’t I tell you to rest, Lad?”

Bilbo felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “I’m sorry, Óin. I just...”

Óin sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Aye, lad. But some things are best left alone until the time is right. Come, let’s get you back to bed.”

As Óin guided him back, Bilbo’s mind raced. ‘What else were they not telling me?’ He thought desperately, ‘Was this something that had to do with Thorin?’ ‘Was he okay?’ ‘Where was he?’ ‘Will he be here?’ ‘Was he even coming?’ His thoughts swirled around his mind.

Bilbo had to shake his dizzying thoughts away, he wondered vaguely if he should have asked Óin more, if he should do as Gandalf suggested.

Then the opportunity presented itself a few days later, as Bilbo sat by a small fountain with his eyes closed, listening to the soothing sound of the water, he heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approaching. 

He opened his eyes and smiled up at Óin as the older dwarf joined him, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Good morning, lad,” Óin greeted him, “You’re looking better today.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied with a nod. He let a comfortable silence fall between them, feeling the cool mist from the fountain on his face. 

After a moment, he decided that the time to question the dwarf had come. Trying to keep his tone light, he said, “I can’t help but notice you seem very busy lately. Is something the matter?”

Óin paused, his hand hovering over the pipe he was pulling from his pocket. He looked at Bilbo as if searching for something.

Then Óin sighed heavily before sitting down beside Bilbo. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before you asked,” he said, beginning to pack his pipe with tobacco.

Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

“Thorin was supposed to come with me lad,” Óin spoke loudly, though he often did. “We were to travel together, but he took too long…I feared I was out of time, so I left ahead. When I last saw him, he was waiting on Kíli and Fíli. We were supposed to meet in Mirkwood.”

“Then what happened…?” Bilbo asked, his anxiety creeping into his voice.

Óin shrugged. “Things didn’t go as planned, I assume. I came ahead.” He took a drag on his pipe, the smoke curling around his face. “After I arrived, we started getting a few letters from Erebor.”

“Letters?” Bilbo pressed, hoping for more information.

“Aye,” Óin nodded. “Letters, mostly from Balin. They’re meant for Thorin when he gets here.”

“So… so he is coming…?” Bilbo muttered, Óin gave him a confused look and Bilbo suddenly remembered that Óin was hard of hearing and he wasn’t facing the hobbit to be able to read his lips.

“Thorin is coming?” He asked, trying to be a bit louder.

Óin gave a small nod. “I believe so. He and others will be here soon enough.”

“Others?” Bilbo asked, trying to keep his hope in check.

Óin hummed and nodded in agreement as he took another puff from his pipe. “Most likely Fíli and Kíli, Nori and probably Dwalin- maybe Bombur but I doubt it, he’s waiting on his Brother and cousin  to come back. That group is bound to be slower than I was, especially with the princes.”

“How-how long ago was that…?” Bilbo’s voice cracked as he asked, he would tell you it was because he had to be louder than he liked.

Óin looked down at Bilbo and sighed, placing a comforting hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Traveling on any road isn’t without danger. But I’m sure they’ll be fine, lad.”

Despite the reassurance, a flowering anxiety bloomed in Bilbo’s chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

The next day Bilbo skipped First breakfast, he couldn’t eat anything and if he did he began to feel sick. He decided since he was unable to do anything he’d go find someone to bother.

He very quickly found Gandalf strolling through the gardens. The leaves rustled softly in the breeze, and birds sang in the trees. It would have been very pleasant if Bilbo didn’t feel like throwing up.

He fell into step beside Gandalf, who greeted him with a warm smile. “Good morning, Bilbo. Feeling restless today, I see.”

Bilbo nodded, his hands fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. “Gandalf,” he began hesitantly, “do you think they’re alright? Thorin and the others, I mean.”

Gandalf’s expression softened, and he paused in his walk, placing a gentle hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “I do,” he replied calmly. “This is Thorin we are talking about. You should know better than anyone, that they have faced far worse than an unwilling path.”

Bilbo nodded again, but he still felt the sickening anxiety twisting within him. “I just… I can’t help but worry. I suppose I am truly turning into an old fool…”

Gandalf sighed.  “ you have always been a foolish Hobbit Bilbo, have no doubt on that”

“Thank you Gandalf, you know you must work on your reassurances”

Gandalf chuckled and nodded “ I suppose so, have patience, my dear boy. They will come. I’m certain of it.” He patted Bilbo on the back before walking again. 

Bilbo quickly followed beside the gray wizard. Gandalf spoke again “In the meantime, take solace in the peace of this place. Rivendell has a way of healing more than just the body.”

Bilbo managed a small smile at the attempt of comforting words. As they continued their walk, he tried to focus on the beauty around him, but his thoughts still remained with his Dwarfs

Bilbo had been doing his best to occupy his mind, focusing on light walks through Rivendell or engaging in pleasant conversations with whomever he could catch.

Unsurprisingly it was often Gandalf or Lord Elrond who kept him company, though sometimes Hugin would follow him around. They felt almost like a temporary balm to the unease that had been growing slowly within him.

But then, without warning, it happened. It was a perfect afternoon, well a nearly perfect one, at least. The sun had bathed the garden in a kind golden light.

Bilbo found himself alone among the flowers, their bright colors almost too bright in the light of the day. He couldn’t help but marvel at the delicate petals. He inhaled deeply, trying to savor the sweet, earthy scent of each flower.

Suddenly, Bilbo’s world tilted. The sturdy earth beneath his feet shifted. A sharp pain stabbed through his chest, stealing his breath away.

He tried to breathe in air, but his lungs refused to cooperate, leaving him gasping, each breath undoubtedly ragged, in a desperate struggle. The once calming warmth of the sun turned sharp and burning.

His hands instinctively grabbed at the ground, as he fell to his knees. Bilbo’s fingers dug into the soft soil wanting for an anchor to keep him in reality. 

Panic surged through him, cold and swift. He shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness that clouded his mind, but it only made things worse. The vibrant colors of the garden; the reds, yellows, and blues of the flowers he’d been admiring, began to blur together, their edges softening and darkening.

Darkness slowly dug its claws into him and the edges of his vision. Bilbo felt his arms tremble, his strength had left him almost completely. Bilbo glanced around, his eyes still wild-eyed, searching for someone, anyone, who could help him.

But the garden was deserted, and the realization struck him, and struck him hard. He wined and Bilbo could feel tears blurring the rest of his vision, he was alone.

A strangled sound escaped his throat as his arms finally gave out. He buckled, and crumpled to the ground, the impact sending a jolt of pain through him. 

Panic swelled within his chest, mingling with the suffocating sensation that gripped his lungs. ‘I’m gonna die here’ his mind all but screamed. 

He tried to get up, but his body stubbornly refused, limbs failing to obey any of his frantic commands. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of terror and confusion, ‘I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die’ ‘help, please no’ ‘wheres Thorin?’, they all swirled together making it impossible to think clearly.

He tried to scream, to call out for help, but the sound that came out was pitifully weak, barely more than a desperate whisper. He blinked away his tears as his vision began to narrow. 

He had no sense of time, no way of knowing how long he lay there, struggling to breathe, to move. It could have been seconds or hours; it all blurred together in a haze.

Then, through the fog, he heard it, the familiar sound of boots thumping they’re way up the path. Bilbo’s heart leaped with a flicker of hope, and with a desperate strength, he forced his body to move. 

He rolled over onto his side, dragging himself forward with trembling arms. The effort was agonizing, and a scream tore from his throat, louder this time, ripping his throat raw.

Before he knew anything else Óin was there. The healer knelt beside him, his hands moving swiftly. “Stay awake for me, lad,” Óin muttered, his voice gruff but concerned.

Bilbo whimpered in response, the pressure in his chest easing away slightly as Óin worked. Bilbo gasped, drawing in a deeper breath than before, but it wasn’t enough. 

The darkness was still there, hovering on the edge of his vision, wanting, clawing for him. He felt Óin’s arms scoop him up.

“Keep your eyes open, now.” Óin’s panic was clear, “you’ll be alright lad, come on.” Óins panic pierced through the haze that was clouding Bilbo’s mind.

Bilbo tried to hold on, really he tried, but it was no use. The darkness was too strong, its grip tightening around him. Óin’s voice became a distant echo, fading further and further away until there was nothing but silence. 

After that Óin refused to leave his side, and if he did it wasn't for long, more then once Bilbo would devolve into random fits and when he’d come to and Óin would be holding him tightly.

Bilbo’s fever had returned, worse than before, and the wound on his head began to fester strangely. Dark thoughts crept into every corner of Bilbo’s mind as the sickness took its hold.

Bilbo struggled to remember what happened, or how to keep his memories straight but he remembered when he began to hear the whispers.

they would come and go from him, often more at night. They seemed to come from the walls or the deep inky shadows that crept and shifted in the darkness. 

The few things he could remember was how the whispers were soft, lullingly quiet and almost relaxing. But then they grew louder, the whispers began to change and warp, to something he had never heard before. 

He could hear snatches of an otherworldly melody, haunting and distant, followed by a deep, resonant humming that sent shivers down his spine.

“Do you hear that?” he asked Óin one night.

Óin frowned. “Hear what, lad?” Óin asked as he slowly stopped what he was doing and made his way to Bilbo’s side

“The voices… the music,” Bilbo whispered.

Óin exchanged a worried glance with Gandalf, who too began staying at Bilbo’s side. “There’s no music, Bilbo,” Gandalf said gently. “It’s just your mind playing tricks, you’re alright.”

But Bilbo was not convinced. The whispers, the singing grew louder, sometimes forming words he could almost understand, other times dissolving into soft laughter or high-pitched, eerie tones that seemed to bounce off the walls. 

“Am I…am I going mad,” he whined as he looked at Óin, clutching the sheets tightly. “I don’t want to go mad Óin make the music stop, make it stop, stop, stop!.”

Bilbo had gripped at his hair desperately, he felt rough hands take his and untangle them from his hair “don’t do that lad. yer not going mad, I promise I’m not going to let ya go mad, okay?”

Bilbo didn’t remember what he said after that, the next thing he did remember was how he felt as if he were being watched, at all times, but whenever he turned to look, there was nothing there. He felt unseen eyes burning into him, watching his every move.

He remembered how his sleep became restless, filled with nightmares of dark corridors and shadowy figures. He would wake up drenched in sweat, gasping for air, his heart racing.

One  he could remember vividly, he didn't think he could ever forget. He dreamt of Thorin, standing tall as he always did, his blue eyes piercing and determined. 

But then, the dream shifted. Thorin was surrounded by orcs, their dark forms swirling like a storm around them. Blood, thick and dark, oozed down Bilbo's arms. 

Bilbo tried to run, to get to Thorin but his feet wouldn’t move. Suddenly, a sharp blade sliced through the air, embedding itself into Thorin’s side.

Thorin reached out to Bilbo, his eyes wide with pain and fear. “Bilbo…” he whispered before collapsing to the ground. Bilbo screamed.

He woke up with a start, screaming still. “No! No! Thorin, no- wait, please, no! You can’t!” He thrashed against the sheets, tears streaming down his face. 

Someone grabbed his arm, the voice spoke softly, rumbling in tone. but their voice was lost in the roaring thunder in his ears.

Suddenly, Gandalf was there, his arms wrapping around Bilbo, pulling him close. “It’s alright, Bilbo,” Gandalf whispered, his voice steady but filled with concern. “You’re alright. Hush now. What you saw isn’t real; it didn’t happen.”

But Bilbo shook his head frantically, the tears coming faster. “No! It happened, Gandalf! I saw it -I saw it happen! I saw it!”

From that night on, Bilbo’s fever worsened. It became even harder for him to distinguish between his dreams and reality, Bilbo's mind was beginning to blur memories and images, facts and fictions.

He had lost all meaning to any sound other than the whispers. The walls seemed to close in on him, and the shadows danced just out of reach, taunting him.

He felt as though he were sinking, the weight of his own body pressing him down. He tried to move, to speak, but his limbs felt heavy, like lead.

Bilbo’s mouth refused to form the words. He felt trapped in his own mind, a prisoner to the fever that burned through him.

In his fevered state, he often found himself standing in an endless void, a blackness so deep it seemed to swallow all light. He would whip his head around desperately for anything familiar, but there was nothing, just the dark, endless void. 

Then the ground beneath him would shift, and he would feel himself falling, spiraling down into an abyss with no end.

He heard chanting, deep voices singing in a language he didn’t understand. The sound was everywhere and nowhere, vibrating through him, filling him with a strange mix of dread and awe. 

He tried to cover his ears, but the sound was inside his head, reverberating through his very bones. “Gandalf,” he whimpered, “make it stop. Please, make it stop.”

Gandalf was always there, by his side, whispering soothing words, but Bilbo could hardly understand them. The words began to sound like rolling thunder, and soon even Gandalf’s voice was lost in the noise.

Bilbo felt himself slipping further away, the world around him growing darker, colder. The room spun, and Bilbo felt panic grip it's cold claws into him again. He didn’t want to lose his grip on reality. He didn’t want to fall into the darkness that waited at the edge of his mind. But he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t fight it. The darkness was pulling him down, down into its cold embrace.

He could hear his own heartbeat slowing, the music growing louder, consuming him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, there was only the music, the haunting, terrifying music.

Just when he thought he couldn’t bear it any longer, he heard a new sound,a clear, strong voice cutting through the chaos. It called his name. “Bilbo!” the voice rumbled, filled with fear and urgency. “Don’t ya dare, lad! Come on! Damn it, breathe!”

Bilbo’s eyes snapped open, he took a deep breath as his surroundings began to come back to him, he couldn’t help the cry that escaped him as his chest throbbed in pain, someone took his face in their larger hands.

“That’s it, breathe, deep breaths. Come on, stay awake lad” Óin’s voice rumbled close to his ear. The dwarf let go of his face and turned to Gandalf. “Keep him with us, Gandalf.”

Gandalf’s face appeared in Bilbo’s blurred vision as the wizard held his arms tightly. “Fight for us, Bilbo. Come on. You must fight it. Think of Thorin! The blasted dwarf is always late, isn’t he?”

But Bilbo was so tired, so very tired. His body ached, his head throbbed, and he felt as if he were being pulled in a thousand different directions. 

The world around him blurred again, and he felt himself beginning to drift. “I’m tired… Gandalf,” he whispered softly, his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep awake.

Gandalf held him tighter. “No! No, no, no, hold on, Bilbo. Hold on!” He glanced over his shoulder, panic flickering in his eyes. “Óin!”

But it was too late. The darkness came again, enveloping Bilbo in its cold, endless embrace. And it was horrible.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Note:

I’ll be editing chapter 5 if you need me. Have a good day/night.

@m4yh4ps @bllbabaggins

[klarex]

I'm not happy with this fic as I should be, but I hope you like it.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: fighting, dead orcs, Kíli in pain from a shot from Bolg

Summary: Locking Fíli up in a cell.

Paring: Fíli Durinson x warrior! elf! reader

Knives and daggers

Gif from pinterest, it's not mine

Pov. (Y/n)

I was leading the blond dwarf to his cell. He already gave off his weapons, but I still could see a knife sticking out of his coat. His eyes didn't leave me for a second.

When we got to the cells, I looked at him and cleared my throat, pulling out my hand. He looked at me, confused with a nervous grin.

- Your knife.

I said.

- But I don't have anythin-

I pulled a big dagger out of his coat, and he laughed, embarrassed. I put it inside my pocket and pushed him inside his cell. He looked at me before I walked away. I must admit he is a handsome guy.

I was stopped from walking out of my room by another elf.

- Are you sure you took everything from him?

He asked, and I nodded.

- Our king wants you to take a watch on them for your earlier wrongdoing.

- It was one time!

I said angrily, and he walked away without any more words. I sat down with a loud groan. The dwarves were talking, but I ignored it.

After some time, my butt started hurting, and I decided to stand up, walk a bit, and look at our prisoners. When I walked closer, their talks got quieter. I walked up to a cell with a blond dwarf. He was sitting on his cell bed. He looked at me with confusion.

- So you like daggers and knifes?

I asked, and he looked surprised, but nodded. He stood up and walked up to the doors of the cell.

- You know that you and your companions are really in trouble?

I asked and he sighed.

- We know.. but my uncle, like always, had to express his opinion on elves...

He said the last part quieter, and I giggled. He smiled.

"Mahal.. his smile and his voice are mesmerising.."

I thought and pulled out my hand for him.

- I'm (Y/n).

I said, and he grabbed my hand, turning it and kissing my knuckles. I blushed at the action.

- And I'm Fíli.

He said confidently with a tint of flirt. He let go of my hand, and I tucked my hair behind my ear, slightly blushing.

- Aye! Fíli stop flirting with that elf! It's point-

I heard someone shout, it was a brown haired dwarf, but then they stopped when Tauriel walked into the room. I giggled and waved to her. She waved back and walked through the prison and stopped where the brown haired dwarf was.

- That is my younger brother, Kíli.

Fíli said, leaning on the cell's door.

- And it seems like someone caught his eye.

I said with a smile, and Fíli chucked. I turned around to look at him again. He looked at my weapons, which were hanging around my body. I wasn't the archer elf like most of my friends. I preferred daggers, knives, swords, or even spears.

- You're not an archer?

He asked, surprised, and I nodded, chuckling.

- Definitely not. As you can tell..

I said and turned around, showing him my collection of weapons. His eyes widened and sparkled.

- They all have a story..

I said with nostalgia. He looked at me, intrested.

- Tell me about them.

He said with passion, and I laughed. I slowly sat down before his cell, and so did he.

I told him about my adventures and from where I got my weapons. He looked at me, listening curiously and sometimes making jokes, at which I laughed. The time went fast and nice. Then, someone walked in.

- (Y/n)!! Your shift is over!

The elf soldier shouted, and I looked at the dwarf saddly.

- It was nice talking to you, Fíli.. Hope I will see you soon..

I said quietly, so the elf soldier doesn't hear it. Fíli smiled and nodded.

- I don't think I can go anywhere..

He said and pointed at the cell, chuckling. I smiled and stood up. I waved him goodbye and ran up to the elf.

••

When I heard the alarm that the dwarves were running away, I quickly ran behind Legolas and Tauriel. We were going down the river, following the group of dwarves that were swimming in the barrels.

The dwarves stopped on our border gate, and after a while, there were orcs coming from every direction, killing elves and trying to kill our lost prisoners.

I throwed a spear at the tree and jumped, swinging on it to get on the other side of the river. I was trying to kill as many enemies as I could, but it wasn't easy in this terrain. I cut theirs heads off and cut throats while doing flips and dodges. I sometimes felt someone's gaze on me as I fought.

I saw Kíli getting out to pull the lever, but he got shot on his leg. I frowned and killed another orcs. Tauriel got to his rescue and killed orcs coming his way.

When Kíli pulled the lever and fell inside his barrel, we followed them again. We killed a lot of orcs to keep us and dwarves safe.

"Why are they going so fast?!"

I thought, groaning and leaning my head backwards when no one attacked me. I looked around and took a shortcut, sprinting. The shortcut was higher than the hills around the river. There was only one orc that I killed immediately by throwing a knife to his head. I took it back and ran as quickly as I could again.

I saw Legolas standing at dwarves heads, and laughed. He always liked to show off. I took my spear and throwed it at an orc that nearly attacked Legolas. The dwarves were helping too, and I was so grateful for that.

After a bit, my shortcut ended, and I was waiting for them a bit further. I killed orcs that waited here for the dwarves. Then I saw the barrels, and Legolas stopped next to me. We looked at them as they swam away. I sighed deeply, and my friend put a hand on my shoulder. We saw Tauriel behind us, and she joined us.

••

I decided to follow the dwarves into the Laketown. I jumped on the roofs of the houses, seeking the house with the dwarves in it. I jumped off the roof when I saw the correct one. I knocked on the door.

- Who is that?

- I hope not anyone who can kill us...

I heard mumbled voices, but then the door opened. I saw a tall man with dark hair.

- How can I help you?

He asked.

- I'm here to help your guests.

- But I don't have any-

He didn't finish, and I saw a head popping out from the room inside.

- (Y/n)?

Fíli said, and I smiled. The man let me go inside, and I walked up to the blond dwarf. I handed him the knife I took from him earlier with a smile.

- I think I took it from you.

I said, and he grabbed his weapon, smiling warmly. Fíli opened his mouth to say something, but then I heard loud groans of pain. I quickly excused myself and walked up to Kíli who was lying on the table, pale as a ghost. I looked at him, scared and worried.

- Please tell me you can help him..

Said the old dwarf and I looked with a sad look, shaking my head.

- But I know who can.

I said and quickly ran outside and jumped on the roof. I grabbed a horn that Tauriel gave me. She told me to use it in case of emergency. It is only heard for elves, so no one track us. I blowed the air inside it and waited.

After 5 minutes, I saw Tauriel making her way to me. We jumped off the roof, and she looked at Kíli. She told us to find some herb, which we did find after a while.

While Kíli was kicking around, we held him, and Tauriel did an elves' magic on him, bringing him back to health. I sighed in relief. I felt a hand wrap around mine and looked at the owner of it. It was Fíli who had a really concerned look on his face while looking at his brother. I rubbed my thumb on his knuckles to comfort him a bit.

Then we heard a loud thund. I immediately ran outside and stood next to a dead orc body. I looked around and saw that Legolas was shooting at the most enemies. I pulled my knives out, but in the corner of my eye, I saw Fíli taking his dagger out too. I turned around and looked at him.

- Fíli.. Take care of your brother.. He needs you now..

I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. He looked deeply into my eyes.

- But you also need me..

He said, pushing through me and walking outside. He killed one orc and I smiled.

- Tauriel! Please take care of them.

I said in elvish. She looked at me and nodded. I ran outside to follow Fíli. We fought side by side. We knew what we were doing, like we knew each other for our whole lives.

When town was clear (or we thought so), we saw a dragon up in the sky, blowing fire. We started running away. I put my hand inside Fíli's and tried helping civilians run away and save their lifes.

When we got on the coast, we saw Bard trying to shoot the dragon, which he did. He killed him. The monster flew up into the sky and fell down with a huge impact.

We started cheering. The Smaug was dead. I looked at Fíli who looked so happy that I couldn't even describe it. He looked at our intertwined hands and then at my face. He wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me closer. I blushed while looking down at him.

- I thought you said you weren't going anywhere..

I said with a pout, remembering their swim in the river. He chuckled and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

- Well... I'm here now..

We leaned closer to each other, our noses touching and eyes closed. We were like this for a few seconds before I decided to press my lips to his. He seemed amazed at my action, but quickly kissed me back. He put his hand behind my head, pulling me closer. My arms wrapped around his shoulders.

We pulled away when we heard people shouting with enthusiasm. I looked into the direction of people's looks and saw Bard from the distance.

♡~masterlist~♡

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

My brain is FULL of TH fic ideas but I've already got 3 WIP and most of them are just "what if"s with no plot so I'll just post them here I guess and maybe some writing god hears me/ reads them and someone else actually uses them.

Here's Nr. 1:

Frerin did in fact NOT die at Azanulbizar but was transported into our modern world, sometime in the second half of the 19th century.

After some adjusting (industrialization is in full force but it's still not as 'bad' as it would be rn) he builds a life, him being a dwarf meaning that he ages extremely slowly compared to us lowly humans so he has to move after a while and again and again.

He lives in the UK, US, France, Germany, Italy, Finland.....

He fights in both world wars depending on where he lives during that time (WW1 on the German side, WW2 on the UK's), other than that he goes to university and works all kinds of jobs like policeman, fireman, soldier, teacher, carpenter,smith, weaver, factory worker, violinist etc etc etc

Around 1900 he meets this fella J R R Tolkien and befriends him, and after a time finds out that his friend is writing books about middle Earth, not only that, but one about his very own brother. Tolkien apparently is a seer of some kind because it's still almost a century until "The Hobbit" would happen (he does the math).

Frerin helps Tolkien with authenticity for his books, because the dude is smart and found out about Frerin after he corrected his Khuzdul one time too many.

Anyhow, after reading what will happen to his family, he becomes a mite bit obsessed with returning to Middle Earth and having ammased quite some wealth and with the help of some friends in high places starts founding various research projects into things like teleportation, multiverse, magic, alchemy, you name it. He also becomes a member of the Freemasons due to his occult knowledge.

In around 80 years there's almost no progress towards Frerin's goal of returning home, he does still have a research company but only a small group of mostly students works on the multiverse hypothesis, the rest does all kinds of stuff, technology, energy, whatever.

He has for the time being settled somewhere in Scandinavia, is a College Professor for Sociology and Political Science and volunteers as a social worker for troubled children.

He is fostering 2 or 3 children himself (ages 6 - 16) and has two grown up adopted children that still live & work with him (they found out about him), a guy & a lass ( both early twenties).

Somehow (don't ask I don't know) the whole household (meaning Frerin, his two young adult children, the foster children, his south American householder, her tiny dog and their personal Butler (more of a live-in family friend by now, think Niles from "The Nanny")) all get sucked into a portal or whatever end get spit out into Middle Earth.

Not at Ered Luin of course, that would be easy, no, but somewhere extremely inconvenient. The Lone lands, the Brown lands, Moria, something along the lines of "we are so fucked".

So now it is a few years (1-3, or the characters have too much time to become Mary-Sues), before the quest to Erebor, and they have to reach Thorin before then and somehow survive a world filled with orcs (and elves!) while juggling a 6 year old, a tiny & barky dog, a cliché Mamacita, a British butler, and Frerin's realisation that he has gotten much too used to modern convenience.

(my weak ass would probably include some romance between one/more than one of the original characters and the canon characters, I'm a sucker for Fili or Kili x OFC and rare pairings like KilixBifur or ThorinxNori and I want Frerin to date an elf or Bard I think.)

.... Does this sound like something you would read/write? I'd maybe try to write this with someone else, alone I don't dare to. What do y'all think?

[possibly-a-table-or-just-gay]

Hello I crave attention so here's more College Au

Masterpost

[cosmic-glow]

Notes: When crossing a bridge on Halloween night (Samhain) you meet a mysterious knight, does this remind you of any legend?

Warnings: Fíli x fem!reader; reader eats meat and drinks wine; persecution; SFW.

The icy wind forced you to bend down and hold on tighter to the cloak that covered you, your horse was already tired from the long journey, but even though the sun had long since set you couldn't stop, it was Samhain night, you had to get home. Further on, even though your eyes were begging for rest, you could see a faint bluish glow and you were right to assume it was a lake. Arriving at the water's edge, you stopped so that your horse could have a drink and took the opportunity to refill your canteen too.

As you searched through your bag for something to eat, believing it would give you the energy to stay awake for a few more hours, a sound of something moving among the leaves came towards you and suddenly stopped. Without delay, you climbed back onto your horse, which was now alert too. "Who's there?" you asked into the shadows of the night, bow in hand, ready to fire an arrow. With a quick movement and a sound as subtle as a mouse, something approached from your right, but your ears didn't fail and you unhesitatingly shot in the direction, hitting a large black wolf that cried out in pain before being seized by hatred. But you didn't give him a chance, already pulling on the reins to take your horse in a new direction, then starting a chase.

At first it was just one wolf, but after its painful howl, several joined it, hunting you. It didn't matter which direction you were going anymore, you just needed to escape them, lose them. You went down an old road and crossed a bridge that creaked with the horse gallop, only to come to the end and come face to face with a forest too thick for your horse to pass through. He stopped and skidded before raising his paws in fear of hitting the trees and knocking you down. Your back hurt and your head was spinning when you managed to get up, still in time to see him run away at a fast gallop that mixed with the sounds of the wolves approaching, thirsty, you knew you would never be able to run faster than them.

Before you could hide or think of any plans, you saw the black cloud they were forming cross the bridge, its white teeth gleaming at you. And when all seemed lost and you had accepted that there, on that cold October night, would be your end, a rider appeared. His horse was as black as the sky that covered you, he wore a long cloak, wielded a long bronze sword, from where you stood you couldn't see his face, but his hair looked like the first rays of the morning sun. Bravely he stunned and wounded the pack single-handedly, you were so surprised that you didn't even think to draw your bow and react, it didn't take long for the pack to flee, and when the last wolf crossed the old bridge he leaned forward, still with his back to you, and sheathed his sword. When he stood up straight again, his blond curls spread out over his long cloak, and he turned his face to look at you over his shoulder.

As he pulled the horse's reins to look you in the face, you stood up and adjusted yourself as best you could to make yourself presentable. He was a short man with great presence, furrowed eyebrows and shrewd eyes analyzing you, he had a long nose that ended in a braided mustache and a blonde beard. His clothes were beautiful and yours were dirty, you were about to say thank you when he spoke earlier.

- A maiden shouldn't walk alone on Samhain night, she'll end up getting hurt - he had a smug smile on his lips and now it was yours eyebrows that were furrowed.

- Excuse me? But I was perfectly fine and could have managed on my own, I don't remember asking for help from any flirt.

- What a sharp tongue you have, you should be more careful with what you say, you never know who you might end up offending - his look seemed curious, almost as if he was having fun with the situation.

- You're full of "shoulds", aren't you? If it's so dangerous "shouldn't" I know your name?

The blonde man remained silent for a while, analyzing the situation and thinking about whether he should really tell you his name, or better yet, reveal who he really was.

- I am Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin. And I wasn't lying when said it's dangerous to be alone in the woods at night. Much more on this particular night. Without further intrigue, allow me to take you to a safer place - he extended his hand to you, a new look on his face, sincere and welcoming.

You looked away from him to the bridge for a moment, remembering how close the wolves were before he arrived, how close you were to death. Turning away from this distressing thought, you accepted his hand, it was definitely not today that you would accept your death. With a strong tug he helped you onto the horse, you sitting right behind. When the animal started to run, you were forced to hug Fíli's waist to stop yourself from falling. As they rode away, you remembered how, before the man turned to face you, even as he fight, you couldn't see his head, only his hair, which now, when you thought about it, without the fear blurring your vision, looked very much like living flames - was your imagination playing tricks on you?

The knight took you to an old castle, it looked abandoned. He stopped and helped you get off the horse. You doubted he really lived there, branches had already grown around the towers, the stones on the walls were dirty with age and the windows were dark. The big door creaked open, and magically the torches in the hallway lit up, you don't know how but you didn't ask.

- You live here? - asked, looking at the grandeur of the place.

- Since I was a child. I'm sorry about the dust, I can't always clean everything myself - he takes off his cape and hangs it on the coat rack at the entrance.

- Only you live here?

- Yes, everyone left after... - he was silent - ... You must be hungry, come - he smiled at you and continued on.

Fíli guided you through the corridors to a large dining room with a table just as long. At the end, there was a hearty dinner set out for the two of you.

- Were you expecting a visitor? - you said, taking the second glass.

- Maybe I went out looking for one - he pulled out the chair for you and smiled.

Only when the cooked meat touched your tongue and the seasoning invaded your mouth did you realize how hungry you were. Without paying attention, you ended up exaggerating the amount of wine you drank and soon the alcohol started to go to your head.

- It was good? - Fíli asked when you finished.

- Very good - you smiled and suddenly remembered how rude you had been to the man who saved your life - Thank you very much for all this, you don't even know me and are helping, I'm sorry for being so rude to you.

- Don't worry about it, I would also have responded that way to a strange man on a horse in the middle of the night - he laughed - And I think it doesn't matter if I know you or not, it's Samhain night, there has to be at least one date in the year to be kind without future interests, right?

-I think so...- your eyes became heavy, you leaned on the chair, the tiredness from before returning even stronger.

When you almost slipped out of the chair in your sleep, Fíli caught you, carefully lifting you up, "come on, I'll take you to your room" he said before leading you down more hallways and stairs. The mattress on the bed was soft and the covers were heavy, that was all you could say about your room as your eyes were practically closed when you entered, the blonde helping you lay down and cover you up.

- Good night, Y/n - he said, but you didn't remember telling him your name, but you didn't question it because you were already falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning, you woke up in a silent castle, sunlight shyly coming through the window to illuminate the room. You walked down the steps with light steps, there were no more candles lit and everything seemed more abandoned than last night. You looked between the doors as you passed through the hallways, but they were all filled with just furniture and nothing else except some cobwebs, where was Fíli? When reached the entrance hall you looked back, waited for a moment for any sound that would indicate the presence of anyone else in the house, but nothing.

- Fili? - you called, but no one answered.

Before leaving you noticed a painting at the entrance that you had not paid attention to last night, the painting was torn, but when you stretched it again and completed the image you found those beautiful shining eyes, in the frame of the painting there was a small golden plaque that "Fíli" was engraved and next to it was the year of birth... And the year of death. You walked away and took your breath away, he had died decades ago, how was it possible that you had seen him yesterday? Having spoken to him, touched him and felt him, how?

Without further ado, you left the house and had another shock when you found your horse that had escaped, standing outside, waiting for you calmly while was grazing. You looked once more at the castle behind you and you could have sworn you saw a curtain move. You wouldn't forget that Samhain night so easily.

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

October Calendar;

Masterlist

[jlbilu]

Chapters: 45/? Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Thorin/Reader, Fíli/Reader, Kíli/Reader, Dwalin/Reader, Bofur/Reader, Nori/Reader, Bilbo/Reader, Ori/Reader, Reader/Smaug Characters: Reader, Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli, Fíli, Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, Dori, Ori - Character, Balin, Óin, Glóin, Bifur, Bombur

Summary:

Random oneshots in which you the reader are paired with many dwarfs, and a hobbit on occasion. Some will be fluffy, others will be steamy. But a good time will be had by all!

*Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or you*

--------------------------

I particulary like chapter 23...

[mikathemonster]

could you do fili with praise for kinktober please💞💞

kinktober, episode 1 <3

author's note: the way I am so numb and horny after writing this means I desperately need to go touch some grass. anyways, I'm so excited to start off kinktober with a cute Fíli drabble <3 feel free to request more if this one really got y'all going :) enjoy!

Pairing: Fíli / Gender-neutral Reader

Word Count: 850

summary: porn without any plot in sight <3

content warnings: nsfw, cowgirl/riding, needy/whiny men, need I say more?

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“You’re taking me so well,” he cooed as you slowly eased yourself along his length. The pleasure was more than enough to send you reeling as you grinded down on top of his lap.

“I always do,” you hummed, setting a slow pace as you savored the feeling of him filling you up. “Don’t I, Fíli?”

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes as he watched you take all of him, smiling when you wrapped one of your hands in his hair to anchor yourself. “Fuck, ghivashel…”

His eyes rolled back for a moment from the feeling of your cunt sucking him in, a mixture of your arousal and his pre-cum already making a mess where you two were connected. 

With a playful smirk, you positioned his head to face you dead on. “Come on, now. Don’t grow quiet now, love. Tell me how good I’m making you feel, hm?”

He pulled you close, chuckling as he planted kisses along your neck. “You always look so gorgeous when you’re like this.” His hands found purchase on your sides, massaging circles along your hips as he watched you take him so deliciously. 

Your pace quickened at the praise, deciding to reward him for his good behavior. “And?”

His breathing was becoming slightly uneven now and it was taking all of his willpower to not turn the tides and pound you into the mattress. Gods, the things you did to him were enough to drive him crazy. 

“A-and,” he paused, a moan ripping out of him as you slammed your hips against his. “That’s it, right there. Please, don’t stop now. You’re perfect.”

His kisses were becoming more sloppy against your skin as he teased one of your nipples with his tongue, eliciting a moan out of you as you leaned into his touch. You tightened your grip on his hair and smiled at the way he melted into the palm of your hand. Just the sight of him desperately trying to keep it together was enough to make you even wetter as you continued bouncing on his cock. 

“Ahh, please,” he whined, bucking his hips up into you, reaching deeper inside you as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, your moans and heavy breathing only warming his ears. “Y/N, it’s like you were made for me, for this… Nobody else can fuck me the way you do.”

A sharp cry came from you as a padded thumb found your clit, rubbing gently in tandem with his thrusts and your grinding. “Fuck, Fíli, you’re doing so good. Keep talking, please.” 

Between his whining voice and the sheer pleasure of you riding him, you could tell you were getting close. 

And between your dominating attitude and the way your pussy was drowning his cock, he was also very close to the brink. 

But that dominating attitude was quickly whittling away with every thrust of your lover as he bullied his cock deeper inside you, going faster and harder as he sent you bouncing on his cock. Your hands moved to steady themselves on his shoulders, digging your nails and leaving red marks on his war-scarred skin just to anchor yourself as best as possible.

“You’re driving me wild, Y/N–” He was barely keeping himself coherent now as his thrusts sent you bouncing on his cock with such intensity that you were starting to go dumb. “Fuck, I’m getting close now.”

“Fíli, don’t stop,” you pleaded, biting into his shoulder now to keep yourself from melting into his violent pacing. “Come on now, we can hang in there a little longer, hm?”

He let out a guttural moan at your words, knowing it would be more fun if he complied. 

“Anything for you, ghivashel,” he whined in between thrusts, trying his best to hold out. “Gods, you’re so warm, so tight. You’re so fucking perfect. I could fuck you like this forever–”

More babbling spewed from your lover’s lips as he lost himself in the overwhelming pleasure of your pussy pulsing around his length as you came. 

Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his name was all you could scream, his thrusts slowing down enough for you to ride your high before quickly speeding back up so he could chase his own. Tears brewed in your eyes as the overstimulation was starting to hit you, feeling so sensitive that pain and pleasure seemed one and the same now. You bit his shoulder harder this time, knowing it would certainly leave a mark in the morning, and the next few thrusts led to him painting your walls white. 

A mixture of him and you was beginning to leak out from where you were connected as the two of you could only swallow each other’s moans in the sloppiest kiss imaginable. His hands rubbing soothing circles into your back now as your own moved to massage his now tender shoulders.

“Shall we keep going?” You grinned, feeling him begin to grow hard again as you moved yourself against him.

“Give me just a moment to recover,” he breathed. “But absolutely.”

[fili-urzudel]

Hello!! Could you do 14, 15 and 31 with Fili? Romantic or platonic, up to you. Thank you 💜

13. Sitting together

14. Handholding

15. Sharing a blanket (potentially violent)

31. Stargazing

This combination is classic and oh-so-fluffy, and with my favorite Dwarf to boot! I went ahead and added another prompt as well.

Everyone lives AU, because there is no other ending in my mind.

BTW I'm sick :( but I'm going to try to get at least one other prompt request out this week

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k

Moonrise - Fíli Durin x Reader

The Durin's Day festival was always fun, but it was all the more spectacular in the newly reclaimed Erebor.

"The first autumn equinox since the mountain was reclaimed, can you believe it?" Fíli said with a bright smile, looking with pride at the crisscrossing bridges and vaulted ceilings of the entrance to the mountain. There was still plenty of work to be done, to be sure, but its improvement was impressive regardless.

"And in a couple days, the anniversary of when it was reclaimed," you nodded in agreement. "A few months after that, the anniversary of the first time you walked around by yourself."

"Hush, I'm trying to enjoy this," Fíli gave you a fake scowl, unconsciously probing the scar hidden beneath his tunic.

You changed directions. "Of course, my Prince," you teased. "You look very nice today."

You meant it. His hair was freshly washed, the slightly damp strands frizzing out in the cool morning air. Each bead was carefully placed, a few decorative gold ones added in place of a crown. His tunic was a smooth yet understated silk underneath his leather vest and wool coat. Every detail was precisely placed, the burnt oranges and browns blending seamlessly. He had clearly been seen to with the utmost care. He looked like royalty, even without the royal garb. Most importantly, he was healthy.

His smile softened, his cheeks turning a bit pink under his mustache. "Thank you," he glanced to the ground before looking back up at you. "And you're beautiful as ever."

You blushed deeper than him, unused to compliments. You plucked at the placket of your own wool coat, dyed a deep woad blue. It was your favorite. "Thank you," you said, choosing for once to believe him. "What duties do you have today?"

"None, surprisingly," Fíli breathed. "Thorin's let me have a break, so I can enjoy the first festival in our new home right alongside you." Something about that little word, our, set your heart ablaze. "You want to stick with me?"

"If you'll have me," he smiled again. That smile was impossible to resist.

"Of course I will."

Erebor had been steadily growing over the past year, but that day, it seemed more alive than ever. The market squares were full, overflowing into the wide side streets. Jewelry, blades, shields, ceramics, sculptures--anything made out of earth or in forges were certainly found somewhere in the expansive space. The Ereborian dwarves' tentative friendship with the Men of Dale caused new, less traditional stands to pop up as well: flower stalls, street food vendors featuring fish dishes, and clothing and homeware shops full of bolts of linen. The mountain had only dwarves—and Bilbo—in its halls, a presently rare occurrence, and so you were all free to speak Khuzdul, the sharp sounds ringing pleasantly in your ears.

The two of you strolled as quickly as possible through all the markets had to offer, determined not to miss the afternoon's performances. You exercised exemplary self-restraint, only stopping at one of every five stalls that caught your eye.

"No," became a very popular word as well, what with resisting Fíli's unceasing offers to purchase anything you liked.

"Well, if you will not spend any of your share of the treasure, I must spend some of mine and relieve what must be the terrible, stifling boredom of your living quarters, my friend," he teased, mustache beads swinging from side to side.

"I will have no prince wasting his money on me."

"Oh, it's never a waste if it's you," Fíli told you surely.

There he went again, saying things that made your palms sweat and your cheeks flush. "You're too kind."

Fíli smirked at the way you diverted your gaze. "Well, if I cannot buy you a rug, at least allow me to buy you lunch," he gestured to a permanent restaurant on the corner that was swarmed with dwarrow.

You couldn't help a smile at that. "Hot stew?" You asked, referring to the almost overpoweringly spicy meat-and-potato stew that was a dwarven classic. Benron's was your favorite.

"As hot as you like, of course," He agreed, guiding you forward with a gentle hand on your back.

The stew made your eyes stream in the best way, and you pulled Fíli out of the restaurant scarcely once he was finished eating. "We have to find good seats!" You reasoned as he raised an eyebrow, still wiping his mouth.

"You do realize that Thorin has the best seats, and by extension, we do as well?"

"Right," you said. You had forgotten. Somehow, none of the Durins were royalty in your mind. They were still your traveling companions, dirt poor and looked at as crazy.

"Still, it is sort of nice to take a seat before everyone starts filtering in and it gets too loud," Fíli reassured you. "After you."

The grand presentation began with a song to the mountain. In the ancient tradition, singing was a way to ask the mountain to reveal its secrets, a careful gathering of tones that would uncover its nature.

This song, however, was made more to please the ears of the listener. It was a song of thanks, of hardly believing that this mountain was once again the shelter for her people. You tried your best to control the tears that rose to your eyes.

Fíli leaned over, bumping your shoulder with his. You gave a small smile that he returned, and you could see in his eyes that he was thinking of all that it took to get there.

"We did it," you whispered.

"Yeah, we did."

The opening songs were followed by traditional dances, a speed-forging competition, and a few spars. You cheered on the brothers as they fought each other, with a healthy dose of brotherly teasing. Fíli let his little brother win, or so he told you. The look on Kíli's face was more than worth it. You congratulated him and let them both clean up as you headed to the gates.

The gates were still open, cool air pouring into the mountain as the sun dropped in the sky.

Dale was dimmer than usual—the city was empty. The men were lining the edge of the water with candles. This equinox now also marked the anniversary of the fall of Laketown and many of their loved ones. The dwarves tried their best to be respectful of their vigil.

You leaned against the wall and watched. You hoped they found peace and remembered to enjoy their new lives. Bard, standing at the back of the group, turned around. He caught your eye and nodded.

"Come with me, I think we should see something," Fíli's low whisper startled you from your reverie, and his hand wrapping around yours even more so.

"Where are we going?" You asked, not that it mattered. With his hand in yours, you'd probably follow him anywhere.

He led you on a trek around the front of the mountain, the setting sun turning everything orange and making his hair appear as flames as you went.

Caught in the daze of bliss, it took you a while to notice what was draped over his other arm. "Wait, is that—I told you not to buy that!"

It was the woven blanket you had noticed earlier, the tapestry depicting sunrays falling through a thick forest of firs. "And what if I bought this for myself? I have uses for it."

"Then it's alright, I suppose."

"You can keep it once I'm done with it, though."

"Sly fox."

"Coin pincher."

"Seriously, though, where are we going?" You asked.

Fíli smiled at you. "A certain very large staircase."

You gasped. "Leading to a secret doorway?"

"The very same. I figured, since we were both trying to help Kili, erm, not die, we missed the excitement, and now we can see it for ourselves."

"That's extraordinarily thoughtful of you."

"Eh, I'd say averagely thoughtful at best," Fíli shrugged.

"Perfectly suitable for me," you told him.

"Good."

The achingly long trip up the staircase was rewarded with a very nice sight: another, less decorative blanket spread across the stone, a couple flat pillows, and three lanterns, already lit and ready to face the darkness.

"When did you find time to do this?" You asked Fíli, grinning from ear to ear.

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously. "And help."

"That's where Bofur, Bilbo, and Dori disappeared to," you observed. "I see. Well, it's very sweet of all of you."

"I'm glad you think so," Fíli said, still holding your hand as he guided you to sit on the blanket with him.

The stairs had taken longer than anticipated, so the sun was already almost gone. You quieted as you realized how close the time was. The two of you watched in quiet admiration as the moon rose, bright and perfect, into the sky, before you turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the door.

You gasped. "There it is!" The moonrise revealed the shape of a perfectly hidden keyhole. "That is very neat, indeed."

"Mmhm," Fíli agreed. "Beautiful." The keyhole was not what he thought was beautiful. He wasn't actually looking at the door at all, but rather you, and the way the moonlight reflected off every spectacular detail of your face.

He had never known quite when he started to feel this way, only that he didn't in the Blue Mountains, when he barely knew you, and he did now.

You turned your gaze from the keyhole once the wonder had made a comfortable space in your heart, and looked to the stars, all too aware of how close Fíli was.

You read out the constellations to yourself in the comfortable silence, assuming the prince was doing the same. You then heard him shift.

"Lay with me," Fíli offered, and you turned around in record time, cheeks blazing and eyes wide.

"What?"

He was already lying down with his head on one of the pillows. "To watch the stars more comfortably."

"Alright," you said, voice quiet. You scooted down until you could lay your head on the other pillow, before changing your mind. You decided to take a risk and settle your head on his chest instead.

"Is this alright?" You asked immediately. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable in this situation.

"Of course it is," he said softly, his arm raising to hold your waist. "I enjoy being close to you."

It wasn't quite a grand confession, but it was good enough for your heart to begin hammering in your chest. "I enjoy being close to you, too."

[rynneer]

Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing.

She’s carrying his child.

Chapter Five: The Rockrose and the Thistle

mild gore warning

a single thread hangs limply down, and i breathe, not now, not now

-The Rockrose and the Thistle, The Amazing Devil

Freezing wind bites at your face as you follow Kíli through the watchtower. He slows and presses to the side of the wall when you reach the end of the passage, pulling you close protectively and leaning out into the cold air.

“Anything?” you whisper.

Kíli doesn’t answer.

You shouldn’t be here.

You don’t know how you got here.

How did you get here? Why–

Boom.

A drumbeat echoes around the stone. Your heart drops. Vibrations pulse through the bricks beneath your feet. Little rocks rain down around you and Kíli—you tear away from him and scramble out into the wind, squinting against the light as you search the crumbling stone above you.

It’s Azog—but you knew that already. He’s got Fíli—but you knew that too.

He drags Fíli by the back of the collar and lifts him into the air like he’s nothing, dangling the dwarf over the edge.

“This one dies first,” Azog rumbles. You don’t know the language but you know what he’s saying. You know it by heart, by broken heart. “Then the brother.”

Kíli lifts his head slowly, confusion, recognition, terror all battling for dominance on his face. Terror wins as he stares up at Fíli.

You glimpse Thorin, Bilbo, and Dwalin on the other tower. Thorin rushes forward as if he could actually reach his nephew and skids to a halt. You’ve never seen him afraid. Never truly afraid, until now.

“Then you, Oakenshield. You will die last,” the orc sneers.

For a brief moment, Fíli struggles, squirming against the hand holding the last moments of his life in its grasp. It’s pointless, and he knows it, but you will him to keep fighting, to do something.

He stares across at his uncle. “Go,” he chokes out. You don’t know if you actually hear him say it or if it’s your mind filling in the blanks. His eyes dart down to you, as if in apology, then back up to Thorin. “Run!”

The blade rips through him as if he’s not even there. Fíli gurgles for a second, and his head falls against his chest. Even Dwalin cannot watch.

“Here ends your filthy bloodline!” Azog releases Fíli unceremoniously. The limp dwarf plunges to the stone before you, landing with a dull thud.

It’s so strange, that thud, because it wasn’t nearly loud enough to deafen you.

And yet no sound reaches your ears as you fall to your knees, scrambling towards Fíli. “Fíli! Fíli, Fee, please,” you gasp, pressing your hands desperately against the ragged wound in his abdomen. Whispered prayers spill past your lips—to Mahal, to Eru, to your own God, fuck, you pray to Tolkien himself. Bile rises up in your throat and threatens to choke you when your fingers instead plunge inside the hole with a squelch. It’s too wide, too deep for any gauze to fill. Blood pools beneath your hands. You search Fíli’s face. His chapped lips are parted, eyes dark and staring sightlessly at the sky. They’ll never see anything again.

You feel a hand grip your shoulder as Kíli falls next to you as well. He’s shouting something. He shouldn’t be shouting, you think dully. Fíli needs his rest so he can recover. So he can get better and he can see the birth of his baby and we can get married and he can see Thorin be crowned–

Kíli shakes you roughly and grabs your chin, turning your face to look at him. His bottom lip trembles, and it finally all breaks.

A scream tears from your throat, raw and rough and guttural, and you collapse into Kíli’s arms.

”Y/N…”

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You’re still screaming when you wake against Fíli’s chest. He pulls away to look at you. But in your sleep-addled mind, you don’t see the concern in his eyes. In the flickering firelight you still see the face from your dreams, slack-jawed and empty-eyed. You tear out of your sleeping bag and scramble to get away.

He reaches out, but you kick his arm away in panic, crawling desperately to the edge of the clearing. The Company stare at you in bewilderment as you press against the tree where you and Thorin had sat just hours before.

Balin rises from his bedroll by the fire pit and extends a hand to you, but you flinch away.

“Let me try,” comes a quiet voice from behind Balin. It’s Bilbo, who cautiously lowers himself next to you. He places a gentle hand on your arm, his face puzzled but kind. “Y/N?” He speaks softly, like you would to a frightened child. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Your fingers curl around his arm, and you bury your face in his coat, shoulders heaving. He closes his arms around you and lets you cry yourself dry.

“He’s gonna die, Bilbo, he’s gonna die,” you sob over and over again. “He’s gonna die and Kíli’s gonna die and Thorin’s gonna die and I can’t do anything because I’m not supposed to even be here…”

Bilbo doesn’t say anything, just patting your back comfortingly.

Finally, you lift your head, peering past the hobbit’s shoulder at the Company. It’s Thorin who makes a move toward you first, but he’s halted by an arrow whistling through the air and piercing the ground at his feet.

“Daro, gorn.” [Stop, dwarf (derogatory).]

A leg clad in brown leather appears before you. Tauriel’s bow is already drawn again. “Did they hurt you, my lady?”

Thorin reaches for a sword on his belt that is not there, but Tauriel raises her bow anyway.

Fíli leaps to his feet, and Tauriel turns her bow on him. At that same instant, Kíli jumps up and slides beneath her arm. He seizes you and Bilbo, pulling you from behind the elf. Tauriel starts to aim at him too, but lowers her bow when she recognizes him.

“What are you doing here?” Kíli demands, pulling you against his side. What would normally be a protective move makes your stomach turn; he had done the same in your dream.

His brother retrieves you, and you clutch at Fíli with a small whimper. He rubs your back gently, pressing your head down against his shoulder.

Tauriel’s face falters slightly as she watches the tender gesture. “I heard a pregnant woman scream and saw her trying to escape the dwarves with whom she travels. Now, have you harmed her?” she asks again.

You can feel the heat creeping up Fíli’s neck. “Harmed her?” he splutters. His fist balls up in the fabric of your tunic in anger. “Why would I harm the woman I lov–” He shuts his mouth so fast you hear his jaw snap. It was supposed to remain a secret within the Company.

You lift your head and look over your shoulder at Tauriel, who gapes at Fíli. Her narrow, green eyes find yours. “Does he speak the truth?”

Throat tight, you nod. “It’s his,” you whisper. Your legs start to fail beneath you as the adrenaline from your dream drains from your blood, and Fíli carries you back to your sleeping bag.

Tauriel doesn’t seem to know what to do, looking at the dwarves around her. Bifur and Nori look particularly mutinous—Bifur mutters something dark in Khuzdûl under his breath, running his thumb along the blade of a knife. With a sigh, Tauriel sits on the roots you and Bilbo vacated. She reaches over her shoulder and pulls a long bundle from her quiver, tossing it at Thorin’s feet.

His murderous expression turns to confusion, then surprise as he kneels and unwraps the cloth. It’s Orcrist. He looks up at her. “Is this some sort of trick?” he growls.

“No trick.”

“Why?”

She sighs again, longer and deeper this time. “I have left Mirkwood. King Thranduil did not agree with my suggestion to send a patrol to tail your party.”

A few of the dwarves take issue with that remark, but she holds her hand up to stop their shouts. “I mean only to ensure that the lady remains safe. I do not want the blood of an expecting mother on my hands.” Almost as an afterthought, she pulls another small bundle from her pack, tossing it to Fíli this time. More herbs.

“If you think I will allow an elf to follow my Company to our mountain…” Thorin doesn’t finish, instead fixing Tauriel with a furious glower.

Tauriel picks at a blade of grass. “I could return to the king and inform him of your destination,” she says lightly. “Or I could accompany you and furnish your lady with provisions that will ensure a healthier pregnancy than anything a band of dwarf men could.” She looks up at Thorin. “I would say the choice is yours, but I believe the lady’s opinion should hold more sway.”

At a loss for words, Thorin turns back to you. Glancing at Tauriel, you nod.

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Rest, Y/N,” he grunts. “We break camp at first light. Ori, Gloín, you take watch.” With a withering look in the elf’s direction, he returns to his bedroll.

Tauriel seems satisfied with this, beginning a quiet conversation with Kíli, who sits just a little too close to the she-elf. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Fíli gently cradles you against his chest and eases the pair of you to the ground. “You don’t have to tell me what you dreamt of if you do not want,” he whispers. “But I swear to you by all the gold in the mountain, I will never leave you.”

Your heart clenches, and tears prick at the edge of your eyes as you clutch at his arm. “Don’t make promises you don’t know you can keep.”

[ironmandeficiency]

durin line + finding out you have nipple piercings

pairing: durin line (fíli, thorin, kíli)/ fem!reader

word count: 1312

summary: how the sons of durin react to discovering you have nipple piercings

a/n: this just happened to pop into my head and i figured “why not?” it’s my first time writing anything lotr, we’ll see how it goes (18+ for obvs reasons). here’s the dwarven translator i used

warnings: implied smut, one ref to pregnancy, tons of secondhand embarrassment

fíli:

dude was caught off guard in the best way possible

it was only hours after your braiding ceremony, both of your marriage beads glistening in the fireplace light in your shared bedroom

you hadn’t been intimate with each other since beginning your betrothal, and it was not for a lack of trying (dwalin was a painfully obstinate chaperone that had far too many eyes around the kingdom)

doomed to abide by tradition, the most improper act committed was a simple swat or pinch to your ass, or your fingers playfully twirling at the braids in his hair or mustache

removing your clothes in front of fee for the first time before preparing for bed, your love notices two metallic glints on your chest and his jaw falls to the floor

the ends of each silver rod is adorned with polished citrine crystals that were eerily similar to the vibrancy of his hair

you had made no previous mention to him about the metal before then, and he had never noticed their presence throughout the trek to erebor

(the company allowed you at least the semblance of privacy on the few occasions there was time to bathe, and he has manners despite what kíli says to the contrary)

“my tumat, by mahal you never cease to amaze me,” fíli’s constant state of awe over you increased tenfold as he admired how the jewelry complimented your breasts

his callused hands roamed your body, sending goosebumps across your skin with every feather light touch

tradition is very clear about how married couples should spend their wedding night, and who would fíli be to ignore tradition?

tumat — gem

thorin:

training with your beloved was never a simple task. he was never one to hold back a few punches, making sure you learned the easy way that no other enemies would be lenient with you

easy way my ass, you groaned as a well-placed kick behind your knee brought you to the ground

it was refreshing to not be treated like a dainty flower when you were plenty capable, but damn was it a painful process

“come on, my ozbim kovotos,” thorin offers you a hand up with a small smile, “we’ve only just begun!”

you roll your eyes as you get back into a sparring position across from your ridiculous lover

“flattery won’t get you anywhere, amralime!” you playfully yell at him

“it gets you into my bed, doesn’t it?” his teasing tone makes you want to punch the smirk from his handsome face

the coordinated dance you know with the same familiarity as your thorin’s eyes keeps you on your toes, anticipation preparing you for any move he could throw your way

well, any move except for the one he ended up using against you, as luck would have it

thorin knocked you off balance with a well-aimed elbow to the chest, almost knocking the breath from your lungs (he definitely could have if he wanted) as a muscular leg hooked around yours and brought you to the ground

coming back to your senses, you stared at the sky above you and groaned in pain. the hand not covering your face against the sunlight clutched at the poor breast that suffered the brunt of thorin’s strength

to his credit, his response time was almost immediate when he saw you holding your poor breast

he brought you to your feet and fretted over you the way he’s wont to do, asking if your chest was extra sensitive for some reason unbeknownst to him

“it was meant to be a surprise, you dolt!” your complaint had him reeling. surely you weren’t… he hopes to mahal that he didn’t just clobber his one while carrying his child, all the color draining from his face

you were quick to track his thoughts as he started to fret, reassuring him hastily that you weren’t pregnant at all, just nursing some new jewelry that you wanted to show him in your shared chambers later in the evening

his relief was palpable as he heaved a great sigh of relief. your fool of a husband, thinking you’re with child!

that would be the golden ticket to keep you away from his grueling training sessions, not a surprise you spring on him in the middle of one!

you make this known to him and his warm laugh rumbles through your chest. a teasing glint in his eye makes itself known before you’re suddenly thrown over your king’s shoulder, a surprise laugh escaping you

“if you want an excuse to skip our training sessions, you need but ask, ghivashel.”

ozbim kovotos — fierce beloved

ghivashel — treasure of all treasures

kíli:

any time it’s brought up, your dear prince flushes deeper than the color of gloin’s hair and the laughter of the company rings like bells around the fire

after the initial shock of the incident, it became a common source of amusement when spirits were low. each retelling gave more bizarre details and unbelievable quotes that most definitely didn’t happen

after finding shelter within beorn’s home, you relished the idea of getting to rinse off the grime of your adventure in clean water

the shifter’s chivalry (and dislike of dwarves, probably) gave you the first chance to bathe out of the party of 15

time was an illusion as you scrubbed away the dirt and let yourself unwind in the water, the faint breeze rustling the wildflowers in the nearby meadow

eventually, some of the dwarves began to comment about the time you were taking, joking about you becoming a fish (dwalin) or somehow drowning and leaving the others to suffer without a soak (fíli)

this chatter alarmed kee far more than he knew it should, the young prince fighting the urge to check up on you

logic reminded him that you were all safe within beorn’s realm, but some of the others joined in the silly commentary and kíli had no choice to make sure you didn’t actually become a fish

making as inconspicuous an exit as he could, he beelined for the small pond where you were, hoping against hope that you were simply enjoying yourself and

for all the things he was prepared to see (you becoming a human-fish hybrid or being eaten by flesh-eating underwater plants, to name a couple), he was definitely not prepared for what he actually saw

you slowly emerged from the water, tiny droplets kissing your skin softly. the sunlight reflected off each bead with the elegance of the finest jewels on this side of erebor

then his eyes caught the actual jewels you carried on your chest, and kíli would have fallen to his knees in praise of your beauty had you not spotted him first

“is there no such thing as privacy here?! let me bathe in peace, you heathen!”

kee covered his eyes with one palm and turned his back to you for good measure, mortified at his current predicament

“everyone was talking about you getting eaten or drowning, and it worried me! i didn’t mean to be improper!” his voice was so sincere that you couldn’t find it in you to be angry for very long

“i’m alive and well, kíli! now if you’ll wait a moment for me to be dressed, i think a princely escort back to the barn would be plenty to protect me!”

the playful lilt in your voice could be heard from the several yards of distance between you and he exhaled in relief that you weren’t truly offended

he almost turned around again on impulse but caught himself just in time, the blood in his veins hotter than the forges with embarrassment

chuckling to yourself as you put on semi-clean clothes, you looped an arm around kíli’s and let him guide you back to camp, the story of kee seeing you naked becoming an immediate hit

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Word Count: 6,233

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo (if you squint and tilt your head Nori x Dwalin)

Description:

Throin gets a letter from Gandalf and soon he finds himself and a gaggle of his best idiots making the track to Mirkwood

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Warning

🧝🏻Thorin being slightly racist to elves. 🧝🏻‍♂️

Note:

Listen to me, I have struggled to put my thoughts into words that make sense and all the while I have struggled I have been also busy with my real work. For as much as I love writing and writing fan fiction it’s not my main job and I’m really sorry for the long wait. Enjoy chapter three and all her spoils. I tried to make it fun. Don’t forget to give me feedback and your options on how I did.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When Thorin finally was released from the council chamber, he fled the accursed room that held him prisoner all morning, his footsteps thundered through Erebor as he hurried down the halls. He wish to put as much distance as possible between him and the council chamber.

He was at his wit’s end with it all; endless meetings had begun to consume him, for weeks, meetings this meetings that. He blamed the elves for dragging the deal out longer then it should have taken. 

Thorin was well aware how others often joked about his long-winded speeches. But this,  the incessant talking, the flowery words and cryptic speech was almost enough to drive him back to madness. He almost certainly preferred it. 

It was not that he lacked desire to help his kingdom prosper; to foster the good relations between the different races. Truly Thorin understood the necessity of meeting with the men of Dale, but,  the elves of Mirkwood, he was beginning to question the necessity. 

Because of this Thorin often found himself wanting for the more palpable labors of Erebor- discussing construction plans, addressing the changes within the mountain, determining the fate of the halls that could not restore entirely to their former glory.

Thorin let out a heavy sigh as he stepped into his chambers, the familiar surroundings offering a small comfort. He leaned against his chamber door as he closed it, rubbing his brow and groaning softly. A throbbing made itself aware at his temples. 

Thorin huffed as he sank into the chair at his desk, he moved his crown and tossed it to the side of his desk before his fingers sifting through the parchments upon it until they found what they sought after. 

A fond smile crossed Throin's face as thumbed through the bound parchment, the neatly handwritten letters staring up at him. A name signed in lovely loopy letters, “Bilbo Baggins” Thorin humed.

‘Perhaps, I should go and see him soon, I am beginning to miss his cooking.’ He huffed at his thoughts and looked away to the hearth. The embers of the morning fire still glowed with a warm light.

‘I doubt I will be able to’ Thorin began to think as he brushed a Knuckle over the writing, ‘I should take a page from the hobbits book and sneak away in the dead of night.’ Thorin chuckled and shook his head “now that is courting disaster.” He told himself as he began to shift through Bilbo’s letters once more.

He unfolded one of the most recent letters, it was about the upcoming festival Bilbo was excited for, one Thorin wishes to see, ‘I would have all of Erebor looking for me before I even made it to Mirkwood-’ Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted.

Interrupted by a sudden tapping on his chamber door- three quick raps, then silence, his temper flared in a way it hadn’t in a while. Honestly, he truly tried to keep it in check, he had ever since Bilbo had asked him to.

It was the only form of repayment the hobbit asked for, he had no choice but to accept, after all, Thorn had nearly thrown him to his death. 

All Bilbo asked for was: to be better. And Thorin truly did strive to honor his hobbit request of him, but in such a moment as this, he could not. He had been reigning it in all day, he’d been holding his tongue to not snap every time someone, Thranduil, interrupted him.

Tossing the letters back onto the desk, he stood abruptly and threw the door open, ready to …urge…whoever dared disturb him not to again.

But when he checked, he saw no one there. Not his sister's sons, nor another dwarf, nor an elf or a human. He leered out the doorway hoping to catch sight of someone but he saw nothing. 

“I really am going mad” he muttered aloud as he furrowed his brow, taking one more look before he closed the door. When he turned around he nearly choked at the sight of a raven fluttering to the nearby table. It hopped to the edge offering a letter. 

Recognition dawned on Thorin as he took in the juvenile bird’s form. “Hugin? What in Mahâl’s name-” but he didn’t get to finish his sentence before the young raven cawed excitedly.

“Letter for you, King Thorin called Oakenshield! it’s from Master Bilbo Baggins!” Hugin rasped out loudly. The raven hopped in place before offering the latter again.

Thorin blinked owlishly, it had been some time since he had seen the raven in person, but, it seemed the bird hadn’t changed a bit. Maybe he looked a tab but chubbier, though living with a go bit will do that to one’s body.

Thorin still hadn’t- ‘wait a minute’ his mind called to him, suddenly Thorin felt himself glare at the young raven, he knew the raven knew how the mail system worked, ‘he should not be in the halls, especially while they are still busy.’ He thought.

Such things are dangerous, especially for young ones not used to the bustling “Why are you in the halls of Erebor Hugin?” Thorin demanded, “I know you know better than that lad” Thorin took the letter and offered his hand to the young raven.

Thorin looked the young raven over as he crossed to his desk, “Master Baggins said to deliver this to you!” Hugin croaked when he hopped onto Thorin’s offered hand. “So I came to you!” Hugin finished, looking at Thorin expectantly, turning his head side to side.

“Well, I thank you for such dedication, lad, but next time, send the mail runners. There is a reason we have them, after all,” Thorin gruffed, searching for a treat for the young raven. “I would hate for you to come to harm.”

“But Master Baggins said it was important, to deliver it to you,” Hugin whined. “If I gave it to a mail runner, it would have passed hands before it got to you! Then it wouldn’t have been just for you anymore!” The raven puffed up, snatching the treat from Thorin’s fingers before he could truly offer it and flew away to perch on a bedpost.

Thorin couldn’t stop himself chuckling at the young raven, he opened the letter without hesitation as he sat at his desk, a smile ghosted his face while he scanned the graceful handwriting.

As Thorin read, his smile broadened. “Great minds think alike,” he mused aloud. Rising from his seat, Hugin cawed and followed Thorin as he carefully put the letter away and quickly went to find Balin. There were preparations to be made, after all, his hobbit was coming home.

The coming days stretched into weeks, each one feeling increasingly longer than the last. He often thought about meeting Bilbo halfway, but, to his extreme frustration, Thorin’s duties kept him firmly rooted in Erebor. 

So, Thorin tried focusing on his duties, to distract himself from thoughts of his hobbit. He tried to focus more on his meetings, or whatever paperwork he could find even if it wasn’t his.

Balin was his first victim of paperwork stealing, His adviser had to hunt him down to wrestle the work away. So Thorin turned to Dwalin, the dwarf didn’t have much paperwork to begin with but Thorin started sticking his nose in Dwalins work all the same.

Dwalin hadn’t like that at all, Thorin had begun to fallow him around if he wasn’t in a meeting, it took about a week before Dwalin was yelling at Thorin to piss off. Thorin tries to go to others he knew

Dori caught on quickly; it was only a day before Thorin found himself looking for someone else to distract him. Glóin hadn’t even let him get within five feet. Thorin wondered if Balin or Dwalin told the red headed dwarf what happened with them.

Bombur had let him stand in the entrance of the kitchen, but otherwise left him alone with a “sorry Thorin, I wouldn’t mind you helping, it’s just, well, you’d find a way to burn water.” Bombur's words were truly a blow to his pride. 

Bofur was still in the blue mountains, although a large portion of their population over there had moved to Erebor, they still had mining operations there and Bofur had to check them out now and then seeing as he was the new mining guild master.

Thorin found that Ori didn’t mind his company but, being in the library in his free time began to feel more like a chore then anything, Nori had disappeared 

Thorin hadn’t even gotten one foot in Óin’s office before being picked up and turned around. Thorin decided to go to Dís but, she shooed him away after he started lurking over her shoulder.

He had basically been ran off by everyone he knew, he was begging to take it almost personally when Dís set the boys on him after he complained about needing a decent distraction - not that any of his attempts at distraction seemed to work anyway.

He often found himself recalling the smallest details about his hobbit: the way Bilbo’s eyes sparkled with curiosity and kindness, the soft lilt of his voice when he spoke.

Thorin could almost feel the warmth of his hobbits laughter, warmth that seemed to melt the cold stone walls of Erebor and replace them with the rolling hills and blooming flowers.

Thorin remembered the moments of easing mornings and quiet evenings they shared when he visited. He would lose himself in sweeter memories, moments that seemed so insignificant at the time.

Thorin could still see the way Bilbo worked in his kitchen in Bag End, preparing tea and scones or whichever of the seven meals they were supposed to be eating, as Bilbo hummed a gentle tune that only he seemed to hear.

Thorin found himself truly lost in memories of his hobbit. He could imagine when they would walk side by side, they would discuss whatever they wanted, people would say hello as they passed.

The image brought a smile to Thorin that was quickly replaced by a deep frown when reality struck him once more, Bilbo was not there, and Throin was not in bag end. And they were not strolling through the rolling hills.

How different it all was from the stone halls of Erebor. The shire was a place filled with warmth, laughter, and life. Not that Erebor didn’t have such things, Thorin simply could not enjoy it as he could in the shire.

Sometimes He dared to imagine what it would be like to be a part of that world, to sit beside Bilbo in his cozy armchair by the fire, sharing stories and tea, forgetting the burdens of kingship, if only for a moment.

But these thoughts, though sweet, were also painful. They reminded Thorin of what he could not have, what was not true, he longed for his hobbit for something else that Bilbo always seemed to complete within him.

Of course if the day dreaming of his hobbit wasn’t enough soon, Thorin faced another issue besides incessant thoughts: he began speaking his thoughts aloud and much to his utter embarrassment, this often happened in the presence of others.

On one particularly dreadful morning, as Thorin was forcibly enduring another horrifically long and insufferable meeting, a mail runner burst into the room, cheeks flushed and out of breath.

Ballin whipped his head toward the dwarf that bursted in, closing his mouth as he was about to address Tranquil. Their meeting was concerning the proper shipping routes Dwarfs would take through the forested lands of Mirkwood, not that Thorin was really paying attention.

They sought Thranduil’s agreement for elven escorts through his fowl magical lands, the eleven king had questioned why they needed protection and it had been an uphill battle from there.

Thorin was adamant that it was not because dwarfs needed protection, but because an elf or two to guide the caravans would prove convenient, then Blain promptly told him to shut up and took over from there.

Thorin was glad for the distraction, Balin seemed less so, “What is the meaning of this? We are in a meeting-“ Balin said, he looked to Thorin for help in reprimanding the young lad.

Thorin decided to look the lad over, The lad was clearly young, an apprentice still, if the beads in his hair were to be believed. He had wild red hair. His beard covered his chops and came no farther than a few inches down.

Thorin had to put his hand up to silence the others in the room as they began to speak out and complain. He motioned for the lad to come to him.

The mail runner shook himself from some sort of daze and waved the somewhat crumpled letter and rushed to Thorin immediately handing it to him.

“Ah, can this perhaps-” Thorin tried to say, but he was interrupted by the young dwarf as he shook his head urgently.

The glar that Thorin gave was one that had the lad tripping over what he was trying to say, “’is an emergency, ‘a-‘a letter from Tharkûn,” the lad suddenly seemed to realize how close he was standing to Thorin and took a large step back, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

Thorin looked the paper over then decided the distraction of the letter was a welcome one, but he mostly decided to not send the lad away when he realized that Tranduil was the most perturbed by the interruption. Thorin quickly broke the seal.

“I-I, uh, don’t know what’s in the letter, but the elf who brought it looked right panicked,” he stammered, the young Dwarf wrang his hands worriedly as Thorin quickly skimmed through the letter.

Thorin paused as he felt his skin grow clammy. Without a word, he rose from his seat, horror crawled up Thorin’s back, he saw Balin raise an eyebrow before looking off somewhere else. Thorin’s hands began trembling slightly as he reread the letter.

Balin stood and moved toward Thorin. “What is it, lad? Thorin?” Balin asked. Thorin felt eyes bore into him. He glanced at Balin, he had a looks of concern and confusion mixing on his face.

Then Thorin looked at Fíli who had been on his other side, the lad looked up at him. Thorin barely registered the question from his cousin before he was suddenly out the door.

Thorin clutched the letter tightly, as he sprinted down the halls, his footsteps were the only warning other dwarfs had of someone approaching before being almost shoved out of the way by Thorin.

He was scrambling to find Óin. He bounded around the corner and caught the door frame to the head of healer’s office forcing himself to an abrupt stop, he threw the door open. 

Óin had his back turned as he was making salves and balms, the only indication that the dwarf gave to tell Thorin he heard him was a sigh. 

“Lad we have been over this,” Óin’s loud voice suddenly said as the dwarf turned to look at Thorin. “I am busy, and you really shouldn’t be trying to over work yourself if-“

Thorin shook his head desperately “Óin,” Thorin choked out, struggling to push down his panic. “Bilbo is hurt- he’s in Rivendell- He’s refusing all medical treatment from the elves!”

He offered the letter to a surprised Óin. The dwarf took the offending letter and began to read it. Óin stood a little straighter as he did. Thorin rubbed his cheek as Óin read painfully slow.

Silence had settled over them as Throin watched the healer, after a moment Óin stepped closer to Thorin and looked up at him, “What do ya need me to do lad?” Óin asked.

“Please, go to Rivendell. Help Bilbo.” Thorin pleaded, he grabbed Óin’s shoulders and squeezed. “Please.”

Óin nodded “alright, give me less than an hour.” Óin said as he packed.

“I’ll be going with you.” 

“Alright lad, then hurry when I’m done here I’m leaving”

“Right!” Thorin called as he left Óin to pack. Thorin hurried to his chambers, he had several things to do and he didn’t have time to waste. Thorin was glad Hugin had been staying with him in his room instead of raven hill. He really didn’t want to run all the way up there.

Thorin quickly settled himself at his desk and began to write a letter to Tharkûn. Hugin hopped up and landed near the parchment, tilting his head back and forth as if attempting to read it.

“My king, what are you writing?” The raven asked.

Thorin swiftly sealed the letter and offered his arm to the raven. He gazed at Hugin, when he hopped onto the offer arm without hesitation. “This must go to Rivendell- it is of utmost importance, it is for Tharkûn” 

He explained as he left with Hugin from his chambers, almost running down the hall to the nearest balcony. He offered the letter to the raven once there “go hurry!”

Yet Hugin hesitated, croaking out instead “…is, is it bad? What happened?” 

Thorin gave the bird a stern look but softened when Hugin shrunk back, offering what he hoped was a much more pleading glance. “Hugin go, please. It is for Master Baggins, this needs to go to Rivendell.” At that the Raven snatched the letter and the young bird took flight.

Thorin hurried himself back to his chambers, he had to pack quickly, Throin could not find it in himself to allow Bilbo to be alone. He couldn’t.

As he reached his door, it opened, and out came Balin with Dís, Fìli, and Kìli not far behind him. Balin glanced around till he found Thorin, the white haired Dwarf gave him a worried glare and began to take a breath as if to speak, but Dís spoke first.

“Brother, what is going on? What happened? Ballin told me you got a letter from Tharkûn then shot out of the room as if you were on fire.” She asked as soon as she saw him.

“Bilbo has been injured,” Thorin went into his chambers. The group begrudgingly parted to let him pass, his sister’s son followed him closely “I…I do not know the extent of his injuries but-” Thorin gritted his teeth. 

He could not stand the thought of what could be, all of which were linked to one thought ‘he will die.’ Throin shook his head, he would not, no, he refused, to entertain that thought for even a minute more.

Thorin began to gather his things, “I must get to Bilbo, I have to” he mumbled as he grabbed his pack from his wardrobe.

But before he could do much else, someone grabbed his arm, “Uncle?” Fíli’s voice cut through Thorin’s loud thoughts. “What do you mean”

Thorin looked up to the lad. Thorin saw one of the most intense pleading looks he has ever seen on the boy's face. In that moment, Thorin was heavily reminded truly how young his sister's sons were. 

He could remember how he used to help his sister put the two to bed. How Kíli had yet to truly grow into his beard and how he had to hold the youngest when thunder rolled over the blue mountains. He remembered teaching Fili how to properly hold a sword and how he used to read to the oldest till he could read Western on his own.

Yet he was also reminded of how much they have grown during the time in the company, and the journey had begun to shape them. But the battle for the kingdom had stolen something away, that hopeful look both the boys used to wear. Now, Fìli walks with a slight limp and Kíli could never take a full breath even when at rest.

He sighed and looked at the two young dwarfs, Thorin caught the back of Fílis head and knocked their foreheads together gently. “I don’t know, Tharkûn says it to be serious. I am leaving with Óin to-“ Thorin started but Fíli yanked away 

 “-I want to go with you uncle!” Fìli yelled, he reached for his brother and pulled Kíli beside him “we’ll both go”

Kìli nods excitedly. Thorin couldn’t help the sigh that bubbled out of him “Fíli, someone must be here to watch out for our people, and you are to become king one day so it must be-” Thorin started but Kìli interrupted.

The boy puffed up his chest a bit, he glared at Thorin. “Uncle, what was the point of establishing a- uh, -council if-“ Kìli was nearly yelling, Dis stopped him as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hush now, please, peace.” Dis said softly to her son before making her way to Thorin and glaring at him “Brother,” her tone alone was nearly enough to make Thorin want to back down “I will be here and Balin will be with me. This mountain is as much my place as it is yours and my sons’”

Balin nodded and stepped up beside Dis, “Thorin, you established the council for a moment like this, 'in a way that if need or problems arise, the king can temporarily take leave.' This is what it was made for, we will keep Erebor from falling while yer away lad.” 

Thorin looked at the two in front of him, he felt his resolve brake as he signed “…hurry and get packed then” he knew it was impossible to argue with them.

Fíli grins and nods quickly running off, Balin looked at Thorin and put a hand on his shoulder

“Keep me updated on Bilbo once you get there.” Balin told him, though he looked normal, Throin saw the worry in his eyes.

Throin nodded “You have my word” he looked to his sister. “And, I expect reports when I get to Rivendell.”

Dis rolled her eyes and huffed “we’ll leave you to pack.” Was all she told him

And with that they left, as Thorin expected word of what had happened had spread like wild wildfire, as few more dwarfs suddenly seemed insistent on joining Thorin and his sister’s sons.

They had approached Thorin when he was preparing his pony, the boys were running behind and he was nearly ready to leave them having watched Óin already leave.

The stable wasn’t all that far outside the mountain’s gates, seeing as ponies and goats didn’t much like being keep inside the mountain, it was mostly just an open pin with a large building at the entrance to allow Dwarfs or animals through. 

Thorin was hastily securing his gear to his pony. He kept checking the Stables entrance waiting for his Sister’s sons to appear. The only thing keeping him calm was the clinking of the metal stirs and the occasional snort of a pony.

When the large doors of the stables creaked open some more, Throin had sighed in relief but it sank as Dwalin strode in, his boots thudding against the straw-covered floor. Nori trailed closely behind, a pack slung over his shoulder. Thorin raised an eyebrow in confusion as Dwalin approached.

“Dwalin?” Thorin tried to keep his voice steady. ‘Had something horrible happened? Was there another letter?’ he couldn’t keep the worry in at that thought “Has something happened?”

Dwalin had stopped not far from him, the warrior crossed his arms, his face pulling into almost glare. “I’m coming with you,” Dwalin said, his tone leaving little room for argument.

Nori stepped forward, adjusting the pack on his shoulder. “Me too,” Nori said. He looked the guard over a second before he crossed his arms too. 

Thorin’s gaze shifted between the two. He sighed, ‘even if I say no, they will most likely fallow anyway’ and He knew better than to argue with Dwalin when he gets a idea in his head, and Nori would tell Dis he was being difficult again and that’s a whole different problem he didn’t have time for.

“Fine,” Thorin sighed. “But hurry and pack. If you’re not ready, I will leave without you.”

Dwalin nodded and left the Stables, Nori went to find his own pony to saddle, and it happened to be the pony closest to Thorin.

“Did Gandalf say anything about Bilbo or was it that he was only hurt?” Nori asked.

“He’s dangerously hurt, that's all he said, Óin is already on his way” Throin says as he looked up to Nori, the spymaster nodded. After a moment Throin decided to ask “Did Dis send you?” 

Silence filled the stables. Thorin pulled a strap down tighter, his sister was always such a worrywort over what he’s doing and her son’s safety.

He wasn’t surprised when Nori nodded, Dis has sent him after Thorin before. “Aye, she’s worried for you ya know?” Nori said and Thorin paused.

“Yes I know.” Thorin mumbled, With that a more comforting silence fell between them as the two Dwarfs readied their Ponies. 

By the time the small company had gathered and readied their ponies, it was well past when Thorin had intended to depart. ‘Óin must be miles ahead by now,’ Thorin thought as frustration began to bubble up.

Fíli and Kíli at least had to decency to look sorry and embarrassed for taking so long to gather everything, speaking of-

He glanced behind him, the two brothers were saddled in the middle of the group, Fíli was currently digging through Kíli’s bag- the brown haired boy seemed to not notice what his older brother was doing.

Thorin rolled his eyes then looked away to the trail in front of him again, ‘Maybe we can push a little faster’ Thorin thought. 

A shout drew his eyes right back behind him, he watched as Fíli held something away from Kíli to the point where the two were nearly tumbling off their ponies.

Thorin heard a small chuckle and looked to Dwalin, who was riding beside him. Dwalin had a slight smile on his face as Fíli and Kíli caused a ruckus.

Nori, who was in the back behind the two, seemingly got fed up, as Thorin heard two wacks and identical whines of pain behind him.

Nori trotted his pony up beside Dwalin, both Dwarfs shared a look before amused grins found their faces. Thorin shook his head. Dwalin looked at him and chuckled before shrugging.

‘At least someone finds this amusing-‘ Thorin thought as Dwalin and Nori shared a quiet chat. Thorin cleared his throat to get their attention. Both older dwarfs looked at him.

He opened his mouth to say something but then the sounds of his sister’s sons shouting and roughhousing again sucked the words from his mouth. He was not in the mood for their antics.

he clicked his tongue before grumbling. “This is going to be the longest trip in my entire life” and Nori smiled at him.

Thorin spurred his pony into a trot, pulling ahead of the company in a vain attempt to distance himself from the commotion at the back. 

They had days of travel ahead of them, and he would rather avoid a headache for as long as possible.

By the time the noise of the boys had finally faded into a quiet murmur, they had reached the edges of Mirkwood. 

They had been walking the edges of for a while in search of an entry point, and as the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows over the land and the dark forest seemed to try and swallow them.

When they found one, Thorin glared into the darkness of the entry, the sun’s rays where being swallowed whole by the cursed trees and twisted branches. 

Thorin looked behind him to the rest of his small group and then back to the entrance of the canopy laced with foul intent. ‘This may not end well’ Thorin thought he took a deep breath and swung himself from his poney.

‘Still, we cannot use the common entrance. That is a few days farther and this will cut our time down-if I remember correctly anyway.’ He thought

“We’ll camp here tonight, Fíli, Kíli gather wood for a fire. Nori, handle the ponies and Dwalin, you'll take the first watch.” Thorin called.

“Aww! But uncle!” Kíli wined “Don’t make us do the boring stuff!” 

Throin looked at Kíli and raised his brow, “Do as I say,” Throin crossed his arms and pointed at Kíli “and be careful. We are on the elf’s land, there is no telling what tricks they might pull.” Throin grumbled 

Throin turned away as he helped Nori unpack the necessities off the ponies. Throin was fed up with eleven everything- he’d be lucky to never have to see one again, “Uncle.” He heard Fíli sigh.

“That is enough both of you, we camp here! You will do your job Kíli! you and Fíli were not brought along for leisure,” Thorin snapped at the princelings, he was done with the discussion. 

He did not care for the elves, in fact he thought he made that obviously clear. “We keep our guard up,” Thorin glared at Kíli, “and we don’t fall for any of their-“ he gestured around then into the forest “tricks.” 

Thorin did not understand why his sister’s sons insisted that there was nothing wrong with elves, not even his hobbit seemed to trust the leafheaded idiots.

“Tricks- uncle don’t be so unreasonable!” Kíli crossed his arms.

Throin looked over at Kíli, he marched himself as spoke “Unreasonable? I am being unreasonable.” Thorin glared down at the boy.

“Yes!” Kíli cried before poking Thorin in the chest “You were the one to begin fostering the alliance between our peoples!” Kíli threw his hands up as he yelled. “Why do that if you do not trust them!?”

“Kíli, alliance does not mean trust, it means that we can not try and kill each other. You know I do not trust those creatures” Thorin raised his voice, “I believe you are getting to big for your boots, do I need to send you home?”

Kíli yelled out in frustration and whipped around as if looking to punch something, Fíli took a step beside his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder “I am sure what he meant was that it seems strange…”

Kíli glared at his brother “ strange!? Strange is an understatement!” He glared at his uncle again “it’s stupid! You act as if they wish to steal something!

“They would, mark my words, if they had a chance they would steal everything” Thorin crossed his arms “what they want is information, If there’s one thing an elf likes more than tricks or prancing around their woods, it’s meddling in affairs that are none of their concern.”

“Aye” Dwalin said before he nodded out into the darkness of woodlands beside them, “I wouldn’t put it past them to be watching us right now, their sharp ears pressed against the wind, waiting to hear our every word,” he grumbled

Kíli rolled his eyes, he was dragged away by his brother “it’s not worth it Kee, you know how uncle is…” Thorin her Fíli wisper to his younger brother. 

Throin looked into the darkness of the forest and huffed, Dwalin was right they definitely could be. Dwalin patted Thorin on the back roughly as he trotted off to find where to take first watch.

‘That boy,’ Thorin thought, shaking his head, ‘he knows nothing.’ Throin casted a look across camp now as Nori patted the princeling’s shoulder. Soon the boys left to find something for a small fire.

Soon, Throin found himself lost in other thoughts ‘Óin must be farther ahead he would have used this same path, it’s the fastest way to the mountain pass’

‘It’s the same one we were meant to-‘ Thorin’s thoughts were interrupted as an uneasy feeling began to crawl up his back, he looked around, it felt as if eyes were burning into him. 

But all he saw when he looked was Fíli and Kíli coming back from finding wood, Fíli was basically carrying it all and Kíli looked upset still while he talked with his brother.

Thorin looked around so more hoping to see what could have possibly made him feel that way, the eyes, felt evil and like a sickness, he saw Dwalin talking with Nori as he took care of the ponies. Nothing really out of the ordinary 

Thorin leaned back against a tree, his eyes scanning the darkening forest once more. Suddenly he remembered something and furrowed his brow ‘aren't there supposed to be elves posted at all entrances of Mirkwood?’ Thorin asked himself, ‘if that’s true then why had non-’

Thorin snapped his attention back at the group when a yelp came to his ears, Fíli and Kíli, were now wrestling each other over- well, something. Fíli had a large grin on his face and Kíli seemed less upset then before.

The two were rolling around b the floor- Fíli kicked Kíli away and scrambled up to run, he only got to steps before getting tackled. 

“Master Dwalin!-ow! Tell Fíli it’s my dagger!-hey!“ Kíli whines as he kicks his brother in the face and pulls at the sheathed blade in Fíli’s hands

“Ow- ugh! -Master Dwalin! tell Kíli he doesn’t even appreciate the art of blades-Ow! Kíli!” Fíli yelped before he got an elbow to the face.

The two boys began to whines to Dwalin much to Dwalin’s misfortune. Nori chuckled but covered his mouth when Dwalin glared down at him-

Kíli held his dagger up in victory and tried to run away leaving his brother sprawled on the floor but suddenly his brother had him by the foot and yanked him back down. The two continued their roughhousing.

Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed- loudly, he looked at Thorin as if to ask for help. A small smile tugged at Thorin’s lips he shrugged and looked away. 

The next morning, after a quick breakfast that made Thorin wish he dragged Bomber along, the company packed up what little they had gotten out, and began the trek through the horrible wood.

The forest shadows creeped and crawled along the sides of the path- Thorin swore he saw large shiny eyes watching him from the shadows.

The area smelled of stale water and was thick with unpleasantness. Much like Thorin remembers from the last time he went through the territory.

When they passed an area Thorin was certain was definitely supposed to have Elves posted, he stopped his small company. 

“There are supposed to be elves here…right?” Thorin mumbled, he looked to Dwalin who nodded in agreement.

Dwalin began digging through his pack quickly, Kíli sat up straighter before looking around, Fíli followed him before furrowing his brow “Really uncle?-” Fíli asked.

Kíli continued for his brother. “-I don’t see any.” The two looked at Thorin expectedly

“Aye, That’s the problem, do you think we’re on the right path?” Nori asked as Dwalin kept looking in his bag.

“For our sake I hope so” Dwalin muttered and pulled out an old map. He began to look over it.

Thorin shifted in his saddle. ‘Have I led them astray yet again? Perhaps it is not too late to send the boys away’ Thorin thought to himself.

“Oh man I knew we shouldn’t have let Uncle lead!” Kíli whined.

Fíli nodded solemnly before speaking “you know he always gets lost” Fíli grinned like a cat  before adding “he gets lost on his way to the throne room!”

Kíli snickers and nodded in agreement “He’s gotten lost on the way to the kitchen!” Kíli tried to sound serious as he spoke, Kíli felt the need to continue. “It’s like the third biggest room if you don’t count the ballroom!”

Thorin felt his cheeks get a little warm as the two kept pointing out times Thorin had gotten himself turned around. Thankfully, Nori saw mercy for the directionally challenged king.

“Hush you two, if we’re on the wrong path, your whining will get us killed” Nori said and that had the boys snapping their mouths shut.

Dwalin shook his head and groaned “this map doesn’t make any sense, some of these roads don’t exist anymore.” Dwalin huffed and shoved the map away back into his pack.

“Are we lost?” Fíli asked, Thorin opened his mouth to calm the young boy, but was interrupted.

“I’m too handsome to die yet uncle!” Kíli quite basically wailed.

“That’s pushing it Kíli, i don’t know about handsome- sill only got scruff brother.” Fíli said and yanked on one of Kíli’s braids.

“Hey!” Kíli whines.

Thorin grits his teeth as his temper tried to flare, ‘this is no joke, they are acting as if this is something to joke about’ his mind droned angrily, he whipped around and glared at the two as they kept bickering.

“Enough! We’re going to follow this path.” Thorin yelled over the two young dwarfs. The boys blinked owlishly at him, the glare never left his face as everyone looked at him now. After a beat he continued, “it has to lead somewhere and hopefully it’s the other side of the wood”

The others nodded and Thorin allowed Dwalin to lead as he fell to the back of the group. All Throin could truly do now was hope

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Oh no, what’s this? I left you on a clog hanger, don’t worry you didn’t wait all this time just for this, I have a chapter 4, 5, and 6, this is just what I’ve finished editing for now. Tell me if I missed something during editing. Btw I’m gonna keep tagging the people I tagged last time and I will continue to do so till asked not to.

@m4yh4ps @bllbabaggins

[thorinterror]

The Inconvenience of Dwarves and a Dragon

word count: 2985

warnings: none i think?

notes: sorry if the formatting is weird, i’m writing this from my phone. also, hobbits have tails in this! i really like the art of hobbits with opossum tails that have that little tuft of fur on the end!

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Chapter One

~*~

The scent of cooked fish and fresh bread filled Donnamira’s nose as she walked through the door of Bag End. The hobbit lass padded further into her home, her tail swaying happily. Bilbo stood at the hearth in his patchwork robe preparing supper. Donnamira’s stomach let out a growl alerting her brother of her presence. He promptly turned to her.

“I see that someone decided to come home,” Ah how she loved his passive aggressiveness. She shuffled over to her brother. Of course he had that silly frown on his face. His tailed moved like a whip in annoyance.

“I apologize for any inconvenience, brother dearest” Blibo rolled his eyes and turned away to focus on supper once again, he quickly plated both of their meals. Donnamira knew Bilbo was immensely bothered by her missing meals but she could afford too, afterall she was quite the plump hobbit. She sighed before wrapping her arms around Bilbo's middle and resting her face in his back.

“Mhm s’rwy,” Her true apology was muffled by her brother's back. Bilbo huffed before gently tapping her hands which rested around his waist. Their tails hooked onto one another.

“Yet you know how much I worry for you,” Bilbo’s voice was soft, “you are still my baby sister, Donna,” She could hear the smile in his voice. Oh, how she hated being called a baby. Just as she was about to protest, the doorbell let out a long ring. Both siblings gave each other a look of raised eyebrows.

Bilbo broke from the embrace and hobbled towards the door, Donna followed on his heels. Bilbo opened the door to reveal a rather tall, and handsome, dwarf.

“Dwalin, at your service” The dwarf, Dwalin, spoke as he bowed. Bilbo fumbled to tie his robe.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Dwalin entered their home and turned his gaze to Donna, a kind smile spread onto her face. “Donna Baggins,” She gave a curtsy, a teensy tiny smile gracing the dwarrows face, and then a look of slight shock at the sight of skinny tails coming from the hobbits backs.

“Do we know each other?” Bilbo asked, confused.

“No” Dwalin continued into the home, removing his coat. “Which way is it laddie?” Dwalin spoke, “is it down here?” Donna gave Bilbo a puzzled look to which he returned.

“Is what down where?” Bilbo questioned back, closing the front door. Donna shifted on her heels.

“Supper,” The dwarrow answered, tossing his coat to Bilbo, “he said there’d be food an’ lots of it!” He continued to look around. “He-he said? Who said?” Bilbo continued to question.

“I can show you,” Donna chirped up, following after Dwalin. The dwarf stood and let her lead the way, he sat down in Bilbo’s seat and started feasting. Bilbo was still confused as ever.

Some time passed before yet another dwarf joined, Balin was his name. Donna thought him quite adorable with his large nose and big white beard. The Baggins’ soon found out that the two dwarves in their kitchen were brothers. How sweet, thought Donna.

Another ring from the doorbell beckoned Donna to the door, Bilbo trailed after. Bilbo was the one to open the door to reveal two very handsome dwarves, one was a golden blonde and the other had hair like chocolate.

“Fíli,” The blonde introduced himself first. Braids decorated with silver beads adorned his long hair.

“And Kíli,” The brunette said, he’d pass as a man if not for his height and ears. He barely had a beard for that matter, only a short stubble.

“At your service,” They bowed in unison at that. Donna could’ve sworn their nose touched their heavy boots. “You must be Mister Boggins!” Kíli said next.

“Nope! You can’t come in,” Bilbo retorted, “you’ve come to the wrong house,” Kíli held the door open as Bilbo tried to shut it.

“What? Has it been canceled?” Kíli spoke again, sounding nervous. “No one told us,” Fíli followed.

“No, nothing’s been canceled,” Bilbo shook his head in an oblivious manner. “That’s a relief,” Kíli pushed through the door, Bilbo slamming it behind the two. Kíli and Fíli stopped in their tracks at noticing Donna. Both dwarves studied her a moment before Kíli spoke first.

“You must be Mistress Boggins then!” A wide smile spread across his face before taking her hand and placing a kiss upon her hand. A blush spread from her ears to her button nose, all the way down to the tip of her tail.

“It’s Baggins,” Donna corrected, “and I’m his sister, not his wife” She giggled. Kíli’s smile faltered for a moment then came back even wider, a playful glint in his eyes. His eyes focused on her flicking tail, the curly tuft of dark hair swayed.

“You are unmarried then?” That smile never left his face, until Dwalin called him for help. Fíli was next to introduce himself to her.

“Fíli,” His voice was soft while he took her hand in both of his, “at your service, my lady,” he maintained eye contact with Donna as he placed a delicate kiss on her knuckles, rubbing the top of her hand with his thumbs. He held her hand close to his lips before leaving another, sweeter kiss.

“Hey, hey, hey, now,” Bilbo pushed his way between the two, “that’s enough of that,” He placed his hands on his hips and puffed his chest towards Fíli, and latched his tail with tail with Donna’s. The dwarf simply chuckled and headed to where the other three were. Bilbo turned to Donna, a stern frown adorned his. Here we go with another lecture. Almost as if reading her mind, her brother said.

“If you must have lingering looks and kisses,” Donna’s face flushed bright red, “don’t do it in the center hallway!” She hung her head low and fiddled her thumbs, saying she was a bit embarrassed would be an understatement.

The four dwarves in their home stole their attention once again as they moved the dining table out into the hallway, of course Bilbo went to protest but yet another ring from the door called for him. Both siblings went for the door. Bilbo kept on grumbling the whole way. He swung the door open to reveal eight more dwarves, who collapsed into the main entrance. A tall man in gray robes stood behind them.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo sighed. The fallen dwarves stumbled to their feet and scurried to wherever the food was. One had remained sitting on the floor, he was at the bottom of the pile. He wore quite the funny hat and a long scarf. Donna held out a hand, and tail, for him which he took with a firm grip, she helped pull him to his feet. Her tail hooked around his knee.

“Thank ya’ kindly, little lass!” The dark haired dwarf cheerfully smiled, brushing himself off. His hair was placed into two wild braids and his long mustache curved upwards to look like a second, elongated smile.

“You must be Mister Baggins' wife,” the smile still hadn’t faded. “Baby sister, actually!” Bilbo called before scurrying off to where a crash was heard.

“Well in that case,” he started, “Bofur, at your service,” he took her hand and planted a firm kiss on her knuckles, his mustache tickling her hand.

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Chaos was an understatement for the current state of Bag End. Bilbo was complaining to Gandalf when a merry song ensued accompanied by the tossing of plates and playing of instruments. Donna quite enjoyed the tune of That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates. The festivities were brought to an end by a knock from the door. Gandalf informed the joyful group that the final member was here. Kíli and Fíli rushed towards the entrance.

Gandalf opened the door to a handsome dwarf adorning blue clothing. Two braids of dark hair framed his face, his hair was very long but with a short beard, fairly uncommon for a dwarf. He looked quite annoyed, or maybe that was just his face.

“Gandalf,” His voice was deeper than the lowest ponds of the Shire. “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice.” He entered the Baggins’ home, removing his coat and tossing it upon the pile by the door. “I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

“Mark?” Bilbo blurted out, “there’s no mark on that door; it was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark,” Gandalf corrected. “I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company; Thorin Oakenshield.”

Neither Bilbo nor Thorin made any move to shake either other’s hand or bow in respect. “So, this is the hobbit. Tell me, Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?” Thorin questioned. Donna remained stationed farther back in the hallway.

Bilbo raised a quizzical eyebrow, “Pardon me?”

“Axe or sword?” Thorin clarified. “What’s your weapon of choice?” Bilbo was even more confused.

“Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know.” Thorin gave a very unsavory look between Bilbo and Gandalf, who looked rather humored by the situation. “But I fail to see why that’s relevant.”

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” The dwarves at the table laughed, Bilbo looked more disheveled by the minute. His tail was nearly standing straight up.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice now was it?” Donna shuffled her way up to Thorin until she was practically chest to chest with him, her tail flicking. Actually, more like chest to stomach considering her miniature stature. She was quite a bit shorter than Bilbo. A flash of amusement passed through Thorin’s eyes before a tiny smile appeared on his lips.

“And you must be the grocers wife,” he puffed out his chest slightly as, what she assumed, to be a sign of dominance. Well, two can play at that game of course. Donna scrambled atop the coat pile to gain leverage on him, unfortunately it only brought them eye to eye. She had hoped she’d tower him.

“Little sister,” she said proudly correcting him, puffing her chest in return. It truly was a great plan until her chest hit his, but she couldn’t be bothered, “and I happen to be much more fond of a scramble than him!” with that, she placed her hands on her hips and let her tongue stick out.

Thorin simply chuckled, “Apologies, my lady, I did not mean to call you his wife,” he turned away into the newly formed dining hall.

Donna huffed once more before moving to leave her mighty pedestal of smelly coats. As she moved, so did the coats causing her to drop. Yet, she didn’t hit the floor. Her tail latched around to whatever force had stopped her. She was caught by a pair of strong arms. Looking up to see none other than the blonde haired dwarf, Fíli. Her tail was wrapped around his waist, she quickly withdrew it to wrap around her own leg.

“Careful now, my lady,” a soft smile adorned his face, his mustache braids swaying gently with any slight movement. He helped Donna to stand fully, “Don’t pay any mind to our uncle, he is always like that.” Fíli straightened himself up before making his way to the table with rest of the dwarves. Donna was still annoyed by Thorin so off she went to her room.

———————————————————————————

Quietly shutting and latching the door behind her, she sat in front of a wooden vanity. Delicate floral carvings done by Bilbo decorated the wood work. She made quick work of taking her hair down from the braids Bilbo had woven together. Her dark riglets fell to her waist and puffed out, finally being set free. The short curls of her bangs and long babyhairs framed the sides of her pale, rounded face. Donna’s gray eyes stared into her reflection and smiled at herself.

The hobbit moved from her vanity to her bed where she had already placed a white nightie. She stripped off her clothes making quick work of the laces on her light blue stays. She slipped into her nightie using her tail to straighten out the bottom hem.

A loud thud sounded from somewhere in the house. Donna flew from her room nearly fainting when she saw Bilbo on the floor, unconscious.

“What happened?” She cried out, kneeling by her brother's side on the floor.

“We were simply discussing the means of our expedition-quest,” Bofor explained, smoking his pipe.

Bilbo stirred, slightly murmuring. Donna gently lifted him to her side and hobbled over to this study. She placed him in his chair and shook him awake.

“Aye, the wee lass is strong,” Balin started, “for her stature that is.” A round aye’s and yes’s followed his statement. Thorin let out a grunt. “If the lad won’ nae go, we could use the lass,” Dwalin whispered to Thorin. To which the latter scowled at the idea. Unfortunately, the two youngest dwarves heard.

“That would be a wonderful idea,” Kíli was practically bouncing where he stood. Fíli clapped his brother on the head.

Gandalf calmly said to Donna, “I must speak to your brother in privacy,” Donna simply nodded before giving Bilbo a quick little hug before scurrying out into the hall. She soon found Thorin and Balin,

“What is this quest you’re going on and why do you need my brother?” Donna pressed, crossing her arms under her chest. Thorin groaned before walking away. How rude.

“We are set to reclaim Erebor from the dragon, Smaug,” Balin spoke delicately, “we need someone much smaller than any of us to sneak past the dragon.” The hobbit’s eyes widened. This pack of dwarves wanted to bring Bilbo on this journey to fight a dragon? Were they utterly stupid?

“My brother is much too soft for that,” an idea burst into her brain, “but I am not, therefore, I should go in his stead.” Donna spoke loud and proud which caught the attention of every dwarf in the room. All had a look of shock plastered on their faces. All except Kíli, that is, who was bouncing with a joyous smile.

“You heard the lass, Uncle,” he shouted, “she’ll be our burglar, and a pretty one at that.” His words were silenced by Fíli’s hand clamping over his mouth.

“No.” Thorin stated firmly. Balin frowned. “Hmph mhamh uhn,” Kíli’s complaints were absorbed by his brother's hand.

“If Bilbo says no then you’ll need me and Bilbo is not one for adventures!” Donna raised her voice at Thorin, he made his way to her. “This journey is not meant for such a little hobbit.” He stated simply, Donna was quite offended. “I am not little,” she pushed, “I am nearly twice Bilbo’s size going sideways!”

Thorin rolled his eyes and huffed. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Mister Dwarf!” Balin pushed his way between the two. “Now, that’s quite enough. If the lass wishes to help then why not let her?” Balin tried to reason with his King.

Donna jutted in before Thorin had the chance to speak, “I am helping whether you like it or not, Mister Dwarf.” She held much pride in her words. Balin gave Thorin a pleading look. “It’ll be the death of her!” Thorin raised his voice before storming away. Donna held her head high.

“Are you sure of this, lass?” Balin’s voice was filled with concern. Donna nodded triumphantly. The old dwarf sighed before handing her a spare contract, “Just sign this and it’ll be official.” Donna took the contract and went to Bilbo’s study to find a quill.

Her brother looked upset and Donna just so happened to be a kind soul. “What’s wrong dear brother? Are you not excited to go on this adventure?” She went to stand before him. “I’m not going on this adventure and neither are you,” Bilbo said bluntly, “we are hobbits of the Shire not adventurers.”

Donna turned to Gandalf with a hopeless look on her face only for him to shrug his shoulders and exit the study. Well that definitely didn’t help. She knelt before her brother's chair and held his hand in both of hers. Bilbo refused to meet her puppy dog eyes.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Bilbo,” she started with her grip tightening on his hand, “we could become heroes, just imagine it. Bilbo and Donnamira Baggins, heroes of Middle-Earth and slayers of the great dragon, Smaug!” Donna could no longer hide her beaming smile, her tail swinging with excitement.

Bilbo shook his head, “It is far too dangerous and you are far too young. By the stars, you have only just turned twenty-two!” His facial expressions becoming more animated the longer he talked.

“Well, that’s unfortunate then for I am going on this quest, with or without you,” Donna stood from her position on the floor and released Bilbo's hand, “I had hoped you would come with me, brother.”

Bilbo sighed and shook his head once more for he knew there was no use in arguing with her. He stood and exited the study, the slamming of his bedroom door causing Donna to jump in her spot. She absolutely hated displeasing anyone, especially her brother. Tears spilled from her gray eyes, her face turned red and splotchy.

“M’lady?” Donna whipped her head to the doorway to see Ori, the scribe of the company. She wiped her eyes roughly and continued to look for a quill. Ori’s light footfalls shuffled to her side. “Are you alright?” He spoke meekly, he already knew the answer to his question.

“Not at this moment but I shall be,” Donna smiled at him, “as soon as we set off on this journey, quest, thing.” And with those words, she scribbled her signature across the contract. Ori gave a shy smile as Donna gave him a small pat on the shoulder before leaving to find Balin once more.

———————————————————————————

The old dwarf checked her signature before stating, “Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, lass.” Donna gave him a smile to which he returned, the hobbit couldn’t help but to think that he was still quite the adorable fellow.

“Aye, welcome!” Bofur called with a smile followed by the rest of the dwarves sharing their welcomes and good-ish graces.

“Welcome indeed.” Thorin said, making his way in front of her. He gently pulled her hand up from where it rested at her side and placed a gentle kiss. His cold eyes never leaving hers.