#gully dwarves

[meldelen]

"This wasn’t in the histories,” Raistlin murmured to himself, staring down at the wretched little bodies, his brow furrowed. His eyes flashed. “Perhaps,” he breathed, “this means time has already been altered?”

For long moments he sat there, pondering. Then suddenly he understood. None saw Raistlin’s face, hidden as it was by his hood, or they would have noted a swift, sudden spasm of sorrow and anger pass across it.

“No,” he said to himself bitterly, “the pitiful sacrifice of these poor creatures was left out of the histories not because it did not happen. It was left out simply because—” He paused, staring grimly down at the small broken bodies. “No one cared.…”

[skull-bearer]

Chapters: 12/12 Fandom: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dalamar the Dark/Raistlin Majere, Caramon Majere/Tika Waylan Majere, Goldmoon/Riverwind (Dragonlance) Characters: Raistlin Majere, Dalamar the Dark, Lemuel (Dragonlance), Sturm Brightblade, Caramon Majere, Tika Waylan Majere, Tasslehoff Burrfoot, Tanis Half-Elven, Laurana Kanan, Goldmoon (Dragonlance), Riverwind (Dragonlance), Hendrick the Theocrat, Elistan (Dragonlance), Flint Fireforge, Draconians - Character, Assorted Dwarf Characters, Fistandantilus (Dragonlance) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Friendship, Going on Adventures with Friends, Sex, Anal Sex, Cuddles, established relationship sex, Caretaking, Dealing With Problems, Dragons of Dwarven Depths, Skullcap, Thorbardin, Having a good old fashioned dungeon crawl, And staying away from everyone else, After the last installment they need some space Series: Part 7 of Ivory, Blood and Ebony Summary:

Raistlin and Dalamar set off to explore Skullcap, with Lemuel accompanying, in the hopes that it may hold more secrets than just a hidden way into Thorbardin.

Chapter 12: The Attack And with a final, bloody battle the war for Thorbardin comes to a close. It is happier to some more than others.

[overelegantstranger]

the overall problem of raistlin is this is a man who is semi-canonically clinically depressed (i am diagnosing him based on his canonical traits and internal narrative, including the part i just read where he thinks "hold on, I'm happy. have i ever been happy before?") and rather than give him any help whatsoever he's told he needs to learn compassion* and IS CURSED WITH VISION THAT CAUSES HIM TO SEE THE WHOLE WORLD WHITHER AND DIE.

what winter night suggests, honestly, is that Raistlin would have been so fucking happy as a travelling magician doing shows for people, all dressed up in red sequins. and all I can think of is, if he'd stayed in solace, if he'd not spent his teens doing mercenary work and his twenties saving the world, maybe he could have been happy. maybe he'd have had some sense of self-worth.

*this annoys me so, so much. Raistlin has compassion!!! He's just also a snarky asshole.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

A bit of a theory that I’ve struck on while rereading the start of FOTR. I think there’s something guarding Rivendell besides the Bruinen. I think Elrond has taken a leaf out of Melian’s book.

There are some hints that the distance to Rivendell varies depending on who you are. Frodo starts approaching the Ford in late afternoon; he is in desperate need of healing, and is brought to Rivendell midway into that same night.

In The Hobbit, in contrast, the dwarves and Bilbo cross the Ford of Bruinen in the morning, and the sun is down by the time they reach Rivendell. There’s lot of references to the journey being longer than Bilbo would expect:

They came on unexpected valleys, narrow with steep sides, that opened suddenly at their feet, and then looked down surprised to see trees below them and running water at the bottom. There were gullies that they could almost leap over, but very deep with waterfalls in them. There were dark ravines that one could neither jump over or climb into. There were bogs, some of them green pleasant places to look at, with flowers growing bright and tall; but a pony that walked there with a pack on its back would never have come out again. It was indeed a mich wider land from the ford to the mountains than you would ever have guessed. Bilbo was astonished.

Then there’s Aragorn’s line when Merry asks him how far it is to Rivendell:

“I don’t know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond The Forsaken Inn, a day’s journey east of Bree. Some say it is far, and others say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk are glad to meet their journey’s end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune: twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen.”

(By the way, it always amazes me, now I’ve noticed it, that the hobbits manage this journey - which Aragorn says would take him 12 days on the Road, with “fair weather and no ill fortune,” in only 14 days with Frodo severely injured, travelling mainly off the Road, and with some bad weather and wrong directions. Some of that’s due to the extremely fast pace Glorfindel sets for the last twoand a half days, but it’s incredibly impressive.)

If anyone should know the distance from Bree to Rivendell, it should be Aragorn, a Ranger of the North fostered in Rivendell, who has probably covered that journey dozens to hundreds of times. And the Road is fairly straight; it shouldn’t be hard for travellers to keep track of the general distance. And also, Aragorn only gives the distance to the Ford, not to Rivendell itself. What if the distance and difficulty of the Road from the Ford to Rivendell varies, based on how well a guest is known. Frodo is the Ring-bearer, in desperate need; he makes it there fast. Thorin & Company are vouched for by Gandalf, but are largely an unknown quantity; it takes them the better part of a day. Someone with hostile intentions might never find Rivendell at all, even after days of wanderings.

[kendertrove]

Dragons of Autumn Twilight highlights, part 3

-The draconians chase the group into the woods but then stop, figuring they have nowhere to escape to. Too bad the draconians didn’t block off Darken Wood.

-Sturm has a concussion from the fight and sees a white stag no one else can see. The stag leads them to Darken. Is it a hallucination as a result of his concussion, or a vision sent to guide him like the one that appeared to his hero Huma in the Age of Dreams? The world will never know.

-Raist is trying to put the pieces together but nobody wants to listen to him. “Children’s stories” indeed.

-Even though Raistlin knows more about Darken Wood than the rest of them combined, they still don’t want to listen to him. Surely he’s exaggerating the danger, right? Well, that’s the kind of thinking that gets you eaten, my friend.

-Soon after they stop, the group is surrounded by revenant warriors who can only communicate by using Raistlin’s voice. He gets overloaded a few times when the revenants all try to talk at once – that doesn’t seem pleasant.

-Tas gives the revenants the story thus far, in a way that wouldn’t make any sense at all if you hadn’t read the earlier scenes for yourself. I do love Tas’s stories.

-Since the party has the blue crystal staff everyone’s looking for, centaurs show up to take them to the Forestmaster.

-I’m honestly not sure how i feel about this whole sequence. It’s weird that in all the Dragonlance books i’ve read, this is the only part with centaurs, pegasi, and a unicorn. They just don’t seem to fit in with the rest of the world at all. Not to mention that the centaurs insist on addressing the party in Middle English, without any knowledge of grammar works in Middle English. I could go on a whole long rant about this, because it’s not – or shouldn’t be – that hard. The centaurs have worse grammar than gully dwarves, and that’s saying something.

-The Forestmaster throws them a party and tells them about the draconians and where Goldmoon needs to go next. When i write it out this way, it seems awfully contrived.

-Everyone’s trying to guess what the “greatest treasure” waiting for them in Xak Tsaroth is. Coins? Jewels? A magic sword? Flint figures “a keg of ale, and Otik’s spiced potatoes.” Someone has his priorities in order.

-As a side note, i found a recipe for Otik’s spiced potatoes once (i think in the Annotated Chronicles or Legends?) and it’s been a staple of my family’s diet ever since. I think it’s my favorite way to eat potatoes.

-The Forestmaster promised them all a ride to Xak Tsaroth, but her pegasi stop less than halfway because they’re scared to go any further. What was even the point then?

-Everyone has to be under a magical sleep while flying. What’s the point of that, either? I mean, i get that naturally landed beings might panic while up in the sky, but i think Tanis’s group aren’t getting enough credit. They know they’re going to fly, and it’s probably safer if you’re consciously holding on rather than just flopping around unconsciously.

[dndhistory]

423. Various Authors - Dragon #102 (October 1985)

Welcome to October 1985 and we start off, as usual, with that month's issue of Dragon magazine. Centred around an adventure for players of 4th to 6th level, called Valley of the Earth Mother, the main points of interest are actually a couple of really good (or at least interesting) articles that are worth your time.

The first of these is an article where Gygax lets his inner Grognard flag fly by criticising what was then the recent move from a focus on combat to a focus on acting and roleplaying... I wonder what he would make of today's D&D scene. I don't necessarily agree with him here, but I get his point, he is warning of a need to return D&D to its "gaming" origins rather than the amateur theatrics that it was quickly becoming. However, it's not like it isn't his company leading to this, the shift towards more narrative intensive adventures, such as the modules by the Hickman's (Ravenloft and Dragonlance, for example) demand a less hack and slash and solve the puzzle approach, and a more "role playing" attitude by part of players. You have no one to blame but yourself Gary, and I do think it was a good move, while agreeing that a balance must be struck between those two sides of the game.

Other cool articles include a long one on Dragonlance's Gully Dwarves, with loads of info on those disgusting but also kind of cute beings, another article by Ed Greenwood on magical item this time bringing us Nine magical Wands from the Forgotten Realms and finally an article on how to populate your campaign worlds. Good stuff. 

[whats-in-a-sentence]

The great Highbulp, Phudge I, was a gully dwarf among gully dwarves. He was almost intelligent, rumored to be fabulously wealthy, and a notorious coward.

"DragonLance Chronicles: Dragons of Autumn Twilight" - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

[apprentice-wizard-mr-mary-mack]

Day Forty-Two of my Wizard Apprenticeship

Today we were going to the caverns where the skeletons dwell to help them with their drainage gullies before the rain really starts in earnest and to enchant their new rooms against cave ins.

My wizard says, “I know most people would think that the skeletons are bad, but they are just misunderstood. How would you feel if you had no-body? Ha-ha, don’t say that in front of them. They hate that joke. They just want to live, but they are the pawns of Big Dragon. When the dragons want more gold they incite the skeletons to attack, and we are ‘forced’ to go to war with the skeletons. The dragons make money by using the wizards to fight the skeletons. The dragons take a high percentage of all wartime fundraising… after the council takes their cut… and nothing raises funds like shouting, ‘Prepare for war with the skeletons, there is only one way, we need money to keep you safe’. Everyone in the region throws all their gold at the war effort, and then the dragons pocket the cash. All that comes of it is dead and broken humans and broken skeletons. I don’t like politics, but you saw the dragons. They are hard to work with and want nothing but more gold to sleep on. You see dragons are only vulnerable when they sleep, they need to sleep deep in caves that are hard to get into. Every new knight and self-appointed hero of derring-do always wants to go slay a dragon, so they hide when they sleep. Dragons are sensitive to the electromagnetic spectrum; and it messes with their ears and navigation abilities when they are that deep underground. They are not built like dwarves to be living in these deep caves. The gold disrupts the deep earth electromagnetic waves and allows the dragons to not be in pain while sleeping in the deep earth… but it takes a lot of gold for them to be comfortable. The wizards could create an enchantment for their chambers that counteracts the electromagnetic spectrum underground, but the council is too scared to talk to the dragons and work it out. I don’t blame them for being scared. Dragons will eat you faster than you can mess your robes if they think you want their security blanket, and no number of wizards should risk the lives of the region in a war with the dragons.  Oh, the skeletons? Fine culture. Great drumming, but their meals leave a bit to be desired.”

[rukafais]

still pretty annoyed about the fact dragonlance is so fondly, uncritically regarded when in the first books alone we have a female ~barbarian beauty~ character who is introduced by being platinum blonde and fair-skinned and you see she is not like the usual plainsmen, because they are dark skinned and dark haired, and also she was persecuted by her tribe who reacted to not worshipping their specific religion by trying to stone her and her beloved, and at the end of the first arc they are the last survivors of their tribe so they get married in a wedding ceremony that is weirdly christian-oriented. I’m sure this has nooothing to do with the fact tracy hickman is a mormon.

there’s also literally e v e r y t h i n g about the gully dwarves which are basically “ha ha they’re mentally underdeveloped! punchline!” which is a whole other fucking mess on its own, but hey, characters are flawed, that’s realistic and thus good, right?

like dragonlance has its merits and i get why people love it, but boy it’s amazing how little that stuff comes up in popular osmosis. if i listened solely to popular opinion dragonlance’s sole sin would be introducing kenders.

[tenth-sentence]

The gully dwarves, catching sight of the flash of steel, dropped their pots and ran wildly down the corridor.

"DragonLance Chronicles: Dragons of Autumn Twilight" - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

[meldelen]

Dragonlance Tales II: Kenders, Gully Dwarves and Gnomes - A quick review

Cover art by Larry Elmore, depicting the short story “Wanna Bet?”

Just completed this second volume of Dragonlance Tales, Kenders, Gully Dwarves and Gnomes which, as its title rightly says, revolves around stories about these misnamed "minor" races from the fantastic world of Krynn, although not all of them. The first thing is that it surprises me that so many years ago, the first time I read it, I gave it such a bad grade (2 stars) that I now go up to 3. I guess then I didn't get the meaning of this compilation of stories, or I didn't have a lot of sense of humor - it's never been that I had too much, anyway, but now I must have more because I've really rolled over my sofa in laughter, honestly.

Again, the biggest criticism that can be made to this bookis the same as the previous one: they are written by different authors and, therefore, the qualities are different. The first three - Snowsong, The Wizard's Spectacles and The Storyteller - are quite weak, although they have their moments and the ideas that inspire them are good, perhaps, with better writers, they would have been better. A Shaggy Dog's Tail, on the other hand, is good; it hides a valuable moral lesson that has nothing to envy to the classic fables; and  Lord Toede's Disastrous Hunt is fun as it stands alone, especially if you've read the Chronicles, of course. Surprisingly, Definitions of Honor is a beautiful story whose message would perfectly serve the real world; and only for this one the entire volume is worth it. Then we have Hearth Cat and Winter Wren which, even being a bit weird, I never refuse a Raistlin story before the Test - Raistlin could have a story where he becomes innkeeper of The Inn of The Last Home and still I would love it - and then, Dagger-Flight is a story as creepy as it is disgusting, the best I can say of which is that the author took it out of his sleeve.

The volume, however, is sold with the longest story, Wanna Bet? which is the only one written by Weis and Hickman. Surprisingly, it's not the best in the book, but let's just say it's a necessary prologue to Dragons of Summer Flame. It tells us about the three Majere brothers, children of Caramon, "kidnapped" by Dougan Redhammer - we already know who he really is - to help him recover - without much success - the Graygem of Gargarth, the horrible artifact that is going to appear later again. The story is entertaining, I will not deny it, but I reiterate that I can’t with Palin. The authors' attempt to make us like him makes me sad (it’s s as if Caramon learned magic to try to be like Raistlin). Well, I hope someone liked him. For me, the so-called "second generation” is one of the biggest mistakes of these authors.

Finally, the one with which I almost fell from my sofa was Michael Williams (official poet of the franchise) and his deconstruction Into the Heart of the Story, in which he destroys the nine Heroes of the Lance while making fun of them (except Raistlin, of course, because whoever has the balls to mess with him has not been born yet) telling a supposed "alternative version" of the reality that we read in the Chronicles and that, I hope, nobody considers as canon. Of course, I laughed at ease with this one.

Anyway, will stop rambling now. We have another volume of stories that focuses on the "minor" races of Krynn emphasizing their lights and shadows. If you are a fan of Dragonlance, I definitely recommend it, because it helps to make you more aware of the lore of Krynn. And it would be worth arguing whether, as many people now say, if this of the "major" and "minor" races of the universe is racism on behalf of the authors or, as I believe, we are totally misinterpreting what they wanted to tell us with this, which is, IMHO, just the opposite.

[skull-bearer]

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dalamar the Dark/Raistlin Majere, Caramon Majere/Tika Waylan Majere, Goldmoon/Riverwind (Dragonlance) Characters: Raistlin Majere, Dalamar the Dark, Lemuel (Dragonlance), Sturm Brightblade, Caramon Majere, Tika Waylan Majere, Tasslehoff Burrfoot, Tanis Half-Elven, Laurana Kanan, Goldmoon (Dragonlance), Riverwind (Dragonlance), Hendrick the Theocrat, Elistan (Dragonlance), Flint Fireforge, Draconians - Character, Assorted Dwarf Characters, Fistandantilus (Dragonlance) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Friendship, Going on Adventures with Friends, Sex, Anal Sex, Cuddles, established relationship sex, Caretaking, Dealing With Problems, Dragons of Dwarven Depths, Skullcap, Thorbardin, Having a good old fashioned dungeon crawl, And staying away from everyone else, After the last installment they need some space Series: Part 7 of Ivory, Blood and Ebony Summary:

Raistlin and Dalamar set off to explore Skullcap, with Lemuel accompanying, in the hopes that it may hold more secrets than just a hidden way into Thorbardin.

Chapter 11: The Invaders The dwarven Thanes discover the truth about the threat to Thorbardin. Lemuel goes to be a hero, and Raistlin and Dalamar may have found a new and enjoying kink to try.

[overelegantstranger]

so according to spring dawning, gully dwarves are holding Pax Tharkas. And like? you want me to believe the way you've written these people is totally accurate, AND they're capable of holding Pax Tharkas against the dragonarmies? No.

[guardianofrivendell]

I’ve Got You

Fíli x fem!reader  

Requested: Yes, by me 😂, based on this post 

Warnings: Jealous and worried Fili, cheeky Kíli, awkward Thorin and angst if you squint 

A/N: It’s finally here! A whopping 7k (when I made the outline of the story I thought about 1.5k, 2k tops but then I added a subplot and I kept going and going...) I wrote this as a treat for myself because selflove is very important and I have no shame.  Special thanks to @katethewriter​ for her advice, grammar check and helping me calm down when I thought this was rubbish!

A/N2: Another reminder that English isn’t my native language, so I’m sorry if it’s not as poetic as it should be. That’s the fault of my lack of decent English vocabulary.

Every quest comes with the possibility of danger, injury or even death. It was drilled into you by your parents, but that didn’t stop you from joining your two friends Fíli and Kíli on their quest to reclaim their home. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do and besides, you never went on an adventure before. How could you say no to such an opportunity? Not even the prospect of traveling with 13 male dwarves could stop you. You liked them, they liked you. This would be like one giant sleepover! There was some small protest from your future companions, mainly Thorin and Dwalin, who didn’t want to take you with them. A tiny woman like yourself on this dangerous quest? You would only slow them down. That’s what they said to you, but the main reason was they only wanted to protect you; keep you safe from all the dangers of the quest. After you asked them again and again - maybe even begged, but you’d never admit it to anyone - and you promised them you could take care of yourself and they needed your skills, and after both Fíli and Kíli had promised to keep an eye on you and keep you safe, Thorin reluctantly agreed. 

The journey had only been going on for a few weeks, when the two brothers broke their promise. It was the umpteenth day of constant hiking, climbing and trudging through mud, water and dirt. Gandalf had left the company, and it had affected everyone’s mood for the worst. You kept yourself at the back of the group the entire day, feet and legs sore from the constant walking, but unwilling to say something about it. You had promised you wouldn’t be a burden, so you weren’t going to be one. 

In the late afternoon you reached a gully with a rickety looking bridge. On the other side, about 100 yards from the edge was a thickly wooded forest that seemed to go on forever. You didn’t know why but it gave you the creeps. A shiver ran across your spine, making you shake your shoulders and Kíli raised an eyebrow at you. He and Fíli took turns walking next to you to keep you company, and today it was his turn. You gestured to him it was nothing, but he kept an eye on you just in case. It wasn’t like you to be this quiet and he was starting to get worried. Maybe this quest was too much for you after all. “We will cross the bridge, and take our rest for the night at the edge of the forest,” Thorin ordered. It wasn’t even near supper time yet, but the dwarven King had noticed his company was getting tired. An extra few hours of rest would do them good, and hopefully lift up their spirits. The otherwise rambunctious and loud group of dwarves were too quiet for his liking.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today, Y/N,” Fíli asked you with a worried look, noticing you had been walking slower than before. He had been trying to talk to you before, but Thorin took his constant attention. Now that they were rearranging the weight in their packs in preparation to cross the bridge - that didn’t seem like they could hold their weight, Fíli thought - he had a few minutes to himself. You smirked at him. “I could say the same thing about you, Fee.” He gave you a wide smile. When you were done repacking your bag under the watchful eye of the two brothers, you waited for further instructions from Thorin. 

Dwalin had to go first, and Bombur second. If they could make it to the other side, the bridge would be safe for all of you. The bridge was in ruin, but seemed solid enough. It creaked and groaned when Dwalin slowly crossed it, and everyone thought it would break under Bombur’s weight but it surprisingly held on.

Fíli had to go next, and he looked back at you. “See you on the other side, mimûna,” he teased. (little one) You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but couldn’t stop the blood rising in your cheeks. Even though you were 4 inches taller than him, he still called you little. For a human you were on the small side, true, but what you lacked in height you’d like to think you made up for in fierceness. You hated and loved the nickname. You were the only one fortunate enough to get one - aside from his brother of course - and it made you feel important. Like you mattered. 

The others of the company slowly made their way over the bridge, one by one. It took some time because they couldn’t rush, carefully taking every step, testing the remaining strength of the next log. It seemed to you the ropes of the bridge were making more noise, and most of the logs were creaking so loud you expected them to break at any moment. Every crack made you flinch. Kíli noticed your discomfort. He was about to make the crossing, but decided he would stay with you. Ori shook his head before he took Kíli’s place. 

When everyone else had crossed the gully, only you and Kíli were left. “You go ahead, Kee, I’ll be right behind you,” you said to him. He watched you for a few seconds, before turning his head to the forest, where Fíli was. His brother would kick him into next week if he would let anything happen to you. “You sure?” “Yes! Go on, I’ll be fine,” you assured him. 

You took a few deep breaths when Kíli was halfway down the bridge, knowing it was almost your turn. The others didn’t wait for you, all of them eager to reach the forest so they could rest their feet and have a nice hot meal. When Kíli finally reached the end, one of the logs broke off and he could barely hold himself up on the tattered rope. He jumped over the hole and landed on the edge with a thump. He immediately threw his pack aside and turned around, gesturing at you to start walking. 

“Just go slow,” he yelled. I’d rather just start running and get it over with, you thought but decided against it. You carefully put one foot over the other, hands clamped over the ropes. The logs started groaning heavily under your weight and you didn’t know whether to be terrified or insulted. You decided to freeze instead. “Y/N?” Kíli asked. “It’s okay to be scared! Just look at me alright?” “I’m not scared,” you yelled back. “I just don’t trust this bridge!” Against your better judgment, you looked down. The gully seemed a lot deeper from up here! “No, look at me! Keep your eyes locked in mine, I know you want to!” Kíli laughed, his joking nature never too far gone. You did as he asked, and he guided you over the bridge one step at a time. 

Kíli was relieved he had been able to calm you down. He didn’t like how the bridge moved and protested against your movements, his goal was to get you off as quickly as possible. He kept gesturing at you to keep moving, speaking encouraging words now and then. But the closer you got to the missing log, the heavier the creaks got. The wood had endured too much with a full company of dwarves with heavy loaded packs running over it moments before. He noticed your face twisting in fear. 

“Hey, Y/N, don’t worry. It’s going to be okay!” It was not going to be okay, and he knew. He looked behind him, but the other members of the company were too far off except for Nori and Dori. “Throw me your bag, you’re close enough,” he said, trying to think of ways to make it safer. But he shouldn’t have asked you that. The minute you threw your pack, you placed your foot on another log for support. The log broke off under the sudden weight, and your foot fell through, sending the broken log pieces into the river below. In an attempt to keep your balance, you took a step forward with your other foot on the next log only for it to break as well. 

“Y/N!” Kíli cried, his eyes wide in horror. You frantically clawed at the remaining parts of the bridge, but it all started to crumble down, taking you with it. “No!” he yelled, rushing towards the edge. His yelling alerted the rest of the company, most of them turning around to see what the fuss was about. ”What’s wrong, Kee?” Fíli yelled all the way from the front. They had reached the edge of the forest and were already busy setting up camp. 

“Kíli!” Thorin yelled when he didn’t answer. 

Fíli watched his brother drop to his knees, looking over the edge of the gully. Nori and Dori soon joined him, gesturing wildly to each other. 

“What in Durin’s name are they doing?” Thorin asked him. “Did someone fall down?”

Fíli did a quick headcount, and to his horror he realized there was one person missing. They saw Kíli slowly lowering himself over the edge, confirming their suspicions. His first reaction was to look for you, and when he couldn’t find you, his heart sunk. “It’s Y/N...” Fíli realised in shock, “Y/N!!” He threw his pack to the side and ran back to the bridge as fast as his legs could take him, ignoring his uncle’s cries. The only thing that mattered to him at that moment was you.  

In the meantime Kíli had lowered himself to the small ledge you were lucky enough to fall on. It was only a few yards and the undergrowth that was covering the side provided enough material to climb down without a rope. “Hold on, Y/N! I’m almost there,” he assured you. To his relief he saw you were still moving, and nothing seemed wrong at first sight. “I’m okay, it’s just my leg that’s stuck. These things are heavier than they seem.” Most of the broken logs had fallen into the river, but some of them fell down on the ledge with you, crushing your leg. You probably had some cuts and bruises too, but those were the least of your worries. You groaned when you tried to pull your foot from under the bridge pieces, ignoring Nori and Dori’s cries to keep still. The thing that was hurt the most though, was your pride. You had promised them you wouldn’t be a burden, that you could take care of yourself. And the first to be injured on the quest was you. You would laugh at the irony of it all if you weren’t so scared of the consequences. Thorin would probably leave you in the first town you would come across. 

Kíli hopped down on the ledge and started removing the logs that crushed your leg. “How is she?” you heard someone yell. When you looked up, you saw several heads sticking out over the edge. “I’m fine!” you yelled back, irritation clear in your voice. You hated to be the center of attention. Luckily both Fíli and Kíli knew this, and Fíli took it upon himself to send everyone back to camp except for Oin. Kíli lifted the last one, and you pulled your foot towards you. He let the log drop with a thud. 

“What’s the damage?” he asked with a big grin, but his eyes looked worried. You clutched your foot, it was completely numb because the log had cut off the blood flow. There was also this dull pain that started to spread in your ankle towards your foot, but you shrugged it off.  “Nothing, I’m fine,” you reassured him, but Kíli didn’t buy it. “I’ll carry you, it’s a long way up,” he offered, pointing to the edge. Fíli let a rope down, so he and Oin could pull the both of you up. “I can do it myself.” “Y/N, until Oin can look at your foot I’m going to carry you whether you like it or not. I’m not taking any risks,” he said, throwing Fíli a knowing look. 

He wrapped the rope around his wrist and grabbed it, giving it a small tug. He opened his other arm for you and lifted his eyebrow. “Are you coming?” You got up carefully, trying to avoid that one ankle so as to not give you away. The pain was getting worse with each passing second. Kíli wrapped his arm around your waist and told you to wrap your arm around his shoulder for support. “Oh, Fíli is going to love this,” he murmured to himself when you snuggled into his side. “What?” you asked him, not catching what he was saying. “Hold on to me as tight as you can!”

Fíli and Oin pulled the both of you up in no time. When you reached the top of the gully, Fíli took you out of his brother’s arms, wrapping an arm around your waist and under your knees. “Easy, mimûna, I’ve got you,” he cooed, planning to carry you bridal style to the makeshift campsite. Oin was already probing at your ankle but you weren’t having any of it. “I can walk, you know. Seriously, I’m fine,” you swapped Oin away. “You don’t have to baby me!” Fíli put you back on the ground, raised his hands in surrender and chuckled. “Fine, go on then.” You raised your chin and huffed. This would hurt, but you were tough. It was only about a 100 yards to the camp. You placed your injured foot first, and the minute you put your weight on it, a shooting pain shot through your ankle and leg and your knee buckled. Two strong arms caught you in time, and a low voice whispered in your ear. “You were saying?” Fíli swooped you back into his arms and carried you to camp, a grinning Kíli in his wake. 

Back in camp you tried to minimize your injury, terrified Thorin wouldn’t want you in his company anymore. You reassured everyone that you were fine over and over again. Oin proved you wrong when he took off your boot and a high-pitch scream escaped your mouth. Did he have to be so brutal? A little tenderness never killed anyone, you groaned internally. Three pairs of eyes followed Oin’s every move. Every time you flinched when he hit a particular painful or sensitive spot Fíli held his breath. 

Kíli patted his shoulder. “She’ll be fine.” “I know,” he smiled gratefully at his little brother, but flinched when he heard you whimper. “Careful, Fee, someone might notice,” Kíli sang teasingly when he went to sit with the others, leaving him with you and Oin. He couldn’t resist wiggling his eyebrows when he sat down on the ground next to Thorin and Balin. 

Oin was in the middle of bandaging your ankle when Thorin stood up. Everyone went quiet and kept their eyes trained on him while he made his way towards you. “Her ankle is severely sprained, but not broken,” Oin began explaining, “I’ve put a bandage around it for support, but she won’t be able to walk on it for a few days I’m afraid.” This was it, you thought. For you, the quest would end here. You couldn’t walk, and if someone had to support you the entire time, you’d become the burden you were trying so hard not to be. “How far is it to the nearest village?” Thorin’s voice rang over the campsite, asking no one in particular. You closed your eyes in defeat. “You mean to leave her behind?” Bilbo asked, eyes wide. There was some protest going around in the camp, mostly from the two princes. Fíli jumped up. “We are not leaving anyone behind!” “Fíli, don’t be foolish,” Thorin snapped. Just like Kíli, he hadn’t missed the looks his nephew gave their female companion. Fíli let his heart take over to reason, a dangerous thing to do. He will understand eventually, Thorin thought. “I will carry her if I must!” “You can not carry her all the way to the Lonely Mountain,” Thorin argued. “Watch me,” Fíli threw back.

Before things could escalate, Bofur spoke up, “I’ll help.” “So will I. We’ll take turns,” Kíli quickly followed his example. “Aye!” To everyone’s surprise Dwalin rose to his full height. You’ve never really interacted much with Dwalin, since he was against you joining the company and you didn’t want to annoy him too much. So him standing up for you now, took you by surprise. 

You had watched the interaction between the dwarves with a small heart. Fíli going against his Uncle, no, his King’s wishes in front of the company was unheard of, and you didn’t want to be the reason behind their falling out. “You really don’t have to do this, I-” “Nonsense,” Fíli interrupted you. “Let’s face it, Y/N, you’re one of us. And we don’t leave one of our own behind. Ever.” He looked at Thorin when he said his last word, challenging him to disagree. But to his surprise his uncle agreed with him, a tiny glint of mirth in his eyes. “So it shall be, everyone will take their turn in carrying Y/N until her ankle is cured.”

You didn’t sleep that night. At all. If it wasn’t the throbbing pain in your ankle that kept you awake, it were your neverending worries about the quest. Whoever was unlucky enough to be on “Y/N-duty”, was going to be a living target. With no free hands, they didn’t have any chance to defend themselves if they were under attack. You couldn’t live with yourself if something were to happen to anyone in the company. Fíli or Kíli in particular. 

You sighed, and your eyes automatically wandered to the two sleeping princes. There was no denying that you liked them both, though each in a different way. Kíli turned into your best friend almost immediately after you met him. He liked to joke around, didn’t take everything that seriously but had your back nonetheless. You’d feel sorry for anyone who would try to harm you, almost certain that Kíli would annihilate them without a second thought.  His brother Fíli was something else entirely. You joked around as well, often together with Kíli, and you knew he would go to the end of Arda for you if he had to and would also gladly destroy anyone who would even consider hurting you. But there was something else. Something you didn’t have with Kíli. Because Kíli didn’t make your cheeks flush when he changed shirts or flexed his muscles. When he rolled up his tunic sleeves and you could see the veins on his forearms your breath didn’t hitch. Your stomach didn’t flip every time he sat next to you or gave you a lopsided smile. But with Fíli, it did... Kíli stirred in his sleep, which pulled you out of your thoughts. The last thing you wanted was someone catching you staring at them. Come on, Y/N, you thought, there’s no time for self discovery. Sleep!

When the dwarves and Bilbo woke up the next morning, you were still sitting half upright against your rock, eyes wide open. Fíli rubbed his face with both hands, trying to get rid of the sleep. His eyes traveled to your figure and he frowned. It didn’t look like you had the best night. He watched you take a plate with breakfast from Ori, smiling politely but wincing when you adjusted your position. He hated to see you in pain. When Thorin announced you would take your leave, he and Kíli made their way towards you. “Ready to go?” he asked. “Well, I wanted to do my morning run before we left but I guess that’ll have to wait now,” you sighed and broke out into a broad smile when you saw his stunned face. “How do you want to do this? Do I still carry that myself?” You pointed to your pack. But Fíli didn’t want to waste any more time, seeing most of the company had already left. He scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing, and Kíli took your pack. “Already taken care of, mimûna, do not worry,” he smiled. 

Not worrying was easier said than done. Being in his arms meant that you couldn’t possibly be closer to him than you were. You had a really hard time trying to control your heartbeat, convinced Fíli could hear how it practically hammered out of your chest. If he did, he didn’t say anything about it. It was a bit awkward at first too, you didn’t know where to look. Your position allowed you to watch his face the entire time, and as much as you would want to do just that - admiring the depth of his blue eyes, the crinkles around those eyes when he laughed, his jawline and those lips, easy Y/N, get it together! - you couldn’t do that. So you kept your eyes fixed on the ground or on Kíli’s back who was walking right in front of you. 

Fíli didn’t talk much, always looking ahead. Which you thought was odd because before your injury, when you walked with him he barely kept his mouth shut. Did he regret his decision?

“If- If you want to take a break, I could try and see if I can walk for a while?” you tried. He blinked rapidly with his eyes, like you just pulled him out of a daydream, and looked at you questioningly. “You don’t want me to carry you anymore?” “No, I mean… I do! But you know, I might get too heavy after a while, or… I don’t know,” you murmured the last part silently. Fíli scoffed and lifted you above his head before he snuggled you against his chest again. “I can do this all day, mimûna. You worry too much.” You felt the blush rise again. How was it possible that the nickname still had this effect on you after all this time? It took you ages and a lot of threatening before Kíli finally told you what it meant, since you didn’t know any Khuzdûl. Luckily the colouring of your cheeks went unnoticed. 

After a while, the lack of sleep was starting to get to you. Fíli’s warmth combined with the gentle rocking of his footsteps made it very difficult for you to keep your eyes open. You jawned multiple times before you felt yourself slipping away. It didn’t take long before Fíli felt the weight of your head on his chest, eyes closed and your hands still in your lap. He adjusted his hold on you and shifted your body a little, so your neck would be in a better angle. Kíli looked behind him and smirked. “Were you that boring?” He didn’t react, letting his brother have his fun. If he had to admit, he found it oddly comforting to hold you this close, knowing he was the one who was protecting you. The words of his Uncle suddenly came to mind, and his mood changed. For some reason he didn’t look forward to you being in someone else’s arms. 

When the sun was just about set, Thorin made the company halt for the night. He didn’t let them take a break during the day, not even for lunch, so to say everyone was relieved was an understatement. Everyone, except Fíli. If he was honest, he liked to have you in his arms and was rather reluctant to let you go. 

You had only just woken up a few moments before and were still a bit groggy. While you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, Fíli lowered you gently to the ground and let himself fall down next to you. “Thank you,” you muttered with a small smile and he chuckled. You were too adorable when you were sleepy. “Anytime, mimûna.” “How many times do I have to tell you! I’m taller than you…” you laughed, shoving his arm playfully. “You need to think of a new nickname!” The both of you looked up when Kíli dropped your pack at your feet. “Your luggage, my lady,” he greeted you, doing an exaggerated curtsy. You rolled your eyes. “I’m not calling you a lord, Kee. Forget it.” “Of course not,” he smirked, opening his arms and puffing his chest. “Because I’m a prince!” “Prince or not, you can go and wet this cloth for Y/N’s ankle,” Oin appeared behind him, handing him a large piece of fabric before he turned his attention to you. “Let’s take a look at that ankle of yours, okay lass?”

When he took the bandage of your ankle, you heard Fíli suck in a breath. Your ankle was twice the normal size, a dark almost black bruise going from your foot to halfway up your leg. “Y/N…” Fíli breathed, eyes full of worry. “When Kíli gets back, we can take care of the swelling,” Oin tried to comfort you, although you had the impression he was saying it more for Fíli’s sake than yours. 

By the time Kíli came back with the cloth, you were eating dinner and everyone had come to check on you at least twice. Fíli hadn’t left your side. Their kindness didn’t surprise you - after all they had been nothing but kind to you in the past. But it still warmed your heart. “Took you long enough,” Oin said, taking over the wet cloth. “It took me a while to find a river and I-”, he said, his voice caught in his throat when he saw your ankle. Just like his brother, he looked at you with worried eyes. “And I uhm, I had to find something to carry water back here. When the cloth turns warm, you can cool it down again.” “Good thinking, lad,” Oin complimented him. “You went through all of that trouble for me?” Kíli looked at you, and winked. “Anything for you, Y/N.” He didn’t miss the hard look his brother threw him. 

Oin placed the cold, wet cloth on your ankle and you sighed contentedly. “Feels good?” Fíli asked. You hummed, eyes closed. “Leave it until it turns warm. I’ll come back later to check on you,” Oin instructed, and he went back to the other side of camp to finish his dinner. Kíli sat down next to his brother, and elbowed his side. “Heard that? I made her feel good,” he whispered. The others all looked up when Fíli smacked the back of his brother’s head, chuckling at their antics. “The future pride of Erebor,” Dwalin grumbled, shaking his head. 

The next day it was Kíli’s turn to carry you, much to the barely hidden annoyance of his brother. In his opinion, Kíli was getting a little too comfortable with you in his arms... Fíli was walking at the front of the group again, right behind Dwalin and Thorin. He would much rather have walked at the back with you, but his uncle had insisted he’d stay at his side.  But even from up there he could hear the laughter and the giggles all too clearly. It stung, hearing how you were enjoying yourself at the expense of his brother. He hadn’t been able to spend as much time with you as he would have wanted yesterday, since you were asleep most of the time. It did however give him plenty of time to think about how he felt about you… There was no denying he felt something. He just hadn’t decided what it was exactly. At one moment when he looked behind him to check on you, he saw Kíli tossing you up a bit which made you squeal. “Kíli!” he yelled before he could stop himself. All eyes turned to him, including yours. Fíli scratched the back of his neck. “Just… be careful, alright?” “Don’t worry brother, she’s safe with me,” he said, hugging you closer. “I won’t let her fall.” He only grunted in response, before he turned around and stomped past Thorin and Dwalin, taking the lead. “What?” Kíli grinned when you smacked his chest. “Be nice to your brother.” “Oh trust me, I’m doing him a great favor…”

The following day after Oin rebandaged your ankle - which was getting a little better with the swelling almost gone, the bruise already turning purple at the edges - Fíli walked towards you with the full intention of spending the entire day with you. He grabbed your pack and threw it on his back alongside his own. He’d probably regret that by the end of the day, but he wanted to prove something. “Fee, that’s too much! You can’t carry me and my pack!” you gasped. “That is why Bofur will take over today,” Thorin announced. Bofur was standing next to him, beaming at you. “Uncle, that will not be necessary, I’ve got it,” Fíli insisted. “It’s not open for discussion.” You looked at Fíli apologetically. If you were honest, you preferred to be carried by him - for no particular reason at all - but spending the day with Bofur wouldn’t be that bad either. Fíli didn’t handle it that well though, he went to the others, but not before he made Bofur promise him to be careful with you.

“Alright, lass?” Bofur smiled at you, before he took you in his arms. He wasn’t as bulky as Fíli or Kíli, but he scooped you up with as little effort as they did. He entertained you with stories and songs, teaching you a few of the songs he knew but considering the odd lyrics you suspected he just made them up as he went. Not that you minded, it was very entertaining. You kept an eye on Fíli, but to your disappointment he never checked on you. He kept his gaze straight ahead, talking to Thorin once in a while but unlike yesterday with Kíli, he didn’t turn around every few minutes. Fíli’s odd behavior certainly didn’t improve the following days when you were carried by Dwalin, Gloin and Thorin. Yes… Thorin. Dwalin you could handle… a little. It was a very quiet day but not in an awkward way, he just didn’t talk much and you kept your mouth shut. Unlike the others he didn’t carry you bridal style, but on one arm, which you certainly didn’t mind.  How quiet your day with Dwalin was, the louder it was with Gloin. You hadn’t had a chance to really talk to him before so he took the opportunity with both hands to talk all about his lovely wife and son, Gimli. You didn’t mind really, it took your attention away from Fíli who was still acting weird. 

But then Thorin himself announced he would also take his turn. You almost said you could try and stumble or hop on one leg or something to avoid what surely would be a very, very awkward day, but decided to keep your mouth shut. The thing was, while you were in Thorin’s arms - who seemed almost as uncomfortable as you were - you were also close to Fíli, since he walked next to him. You tried to talk to him a few times, but the only responses you got were grunts, hums or a simple nod. ‘Your’ kind and cheerful Fíli was gone. Instead there was a moody, grumpy person who apparently had decided to avoid or ignore you at best. At one point you looked at Thorin in a silent question, who just shrugged his shoulders. The movement made your feet bump against each other, and you hissed. This seemed to break Fíli’s walls, because worry fell over his face instantly and he asked if you were alright, to which you assured him you were. Thorin apologized, and everything went quiet again. You couldn’t wait for the day to be over. 

You decided to talk to Kíli about it. If anyone would know what was bothering him, it would be his little brother. When you were sitting around the fire, moments before everyone would start getting ready to sleep, you hobbled towards Kíli. Your ankle wasn’t cured yet, but you could lean on your toes a bit without hurting too much. It wasn’t good enough to walk on your own - certainly not for an entire day and at the pace the company held - but it made you a little less dependent on others. Fíli saw you trying to take a few steps. His joy of seeing you up was short-lived when he saw you were making your way towards Kíli. Kíli on the other hand was happy to see you and patted the space next to him. He held your hands for support when you lowered yourself to the ground. “Tell me, to what do I owe your visit?” “Your brother,” you sighed. Kíli quirked an eyebrow. He had expected this moment to come, but not so soon. “Go on,” he urged you. “Do you know what’s bothering him? He’s acting weird…” Kíli gave you a look. “Okay, weirder,” you laughed. “He’s ignoring me and that’s not like him.” He noticed Fíli was watching the both of you like a hawk from the other side of camp, his expression unreadable but he knew better. He decided to have a little fun... Kíli threw his arm around you and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head. That’s when Fíli lost it. He shot up and murmured something about going for a walk, leaving the campsite. “See? That’s what I mean,” you told him. Kíli just smiled, this was going perfectly! “Don’t worry, Y/N. He gets like that sometimes. Heir stuff, you know.” He rubbed your back soothingly. “He’ll come around.” “I hope you’re right…”

Fíli was pacing through the forest, up and down the same path over and over again in an attempt to keep himself from bursting out. He had been watching you interact with his brother, a strange feeling burning in his chest. This wasn’t just friendship anymore. How he couldn’t see you in another dwarf’s arms, the protectiveness he felt over you, the way you made him feel just by meeting his eyes… There was no use in denying it any longer. He was absolutely smitten by you. You were his One. That feeling he had been fighting against for the past couple of days finally had a name. Jealousy. And right now, he was jealous of his own brother. Kíli had met his burning gaze and he had tried to silently warn his younger brother. But instead of taking some distance from you like Fíli wanted him to, that cheeky little bastard threw his arm around you and pulled you against his side. He even had the nerve to kiss your hair! That was when he couldn’t take it anymore and left the camp. He needed to cool down before he would do or say something he’ll regret later. He slumped against a tree, closing his eyes in defeat. Because the worst thing of all was that you didn’t seem to mind the attention. When he thought about it, you always seemed to gravitate more towards Kíli. His brother could make you laugh like no other, and although he absolutely loved how your laugh traveled over the fields or mountains like the tune of a songbird, he wished he was the one to make you laugh like that. 

He wasn’t going to be the one to stand in the way of your happiness. If you wanted his brother, then he would accept that. Your happiness was his top priority. Even if that meant he was going to be miserable for the rest of his life…

When Fíli returned to the camp, everyone was asleep in their bedrolls. His eyes automatically searched for your sleeping figure. To his surprise you were still up, struggling with the bandage of your ankle. “You need some help?” You were startled by his voice breaking the silence. You’d seen him entering the campsite, but you didn’t expect him to come and talk to you. “I’m just trying to wrap it back up for the night, I didn’t want to bother Oin,” you explained, followed by a frustrated sigh. “But this is a lot harder than I thought.” He sat on the ground in front of you, legs crossed. 

“Allow me,” he smiled. He lifted your foot and placed it in his lap. Without a word he took the bandage out of your hand and started wrapping up your ankle. His calloused hands worked quickly, never hurting you once. His touch was so light you could hardly feel it. And yet every time his fingers touched you, it felt like he burned your skin. Just like that day you were in his arms, you had a hard time keeping yourself together. By the time he was finished, you were a complete mess. 

“Are you alright, mimûna? I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” Oh no, you did the exact opposite, you thought. You just shook your head, not trusting your voice. The light of the campfire lit up his face, the flames reflecting in his eyes, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. In and out, Y/N… in and out. “Look, I need to apologize for my behavior. I wasn’t being fair to you,” Fíli began. He carefully placed your foot back and took both of your hands in his. You swallowed heavily. Was this the moment you had been waiting for? Were you getting the love declaration you so desperately wanted to hear? 

“I let my own feelings take the upper hand,” he said and your heart stopped. This was it… Fíli continued, “I was being selfish. But no more…” You felt yourself getting lighter with each word he spoke, slowly leaning in with your eyes closed for what surely would be the happiest moment of your life. Well… so far of course. “Your happiness is what matters most to me. And if it leads you to my brother, I will not stand in your way.” Wait… what? You opened your eyes again, shocked at his words. “W-what do you mean?” you asked, eyes wide. This was not going like you expected. At all. “I now know who your heart belongs to, Y/N,” he spoke softly, and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “And even though I wish with everything I’ve got that it wasn’t so, I am happy for my brother.”

You looked at him, mouth agape, absolutely stunned. Your laugh boomed over the campsite, waking up some of the company but neither of you noticed, too engrossed in your own conversation. “Now why in Durin’s name would you say that?” Fíli soon matched your stunned expression. One because you had used a Dwarven expression like it was your own, and second because... what? “Because you like my brother…?” “No silly,” you laughed. “I like you!” “You’re not in love with Kíli?” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “No! Where did you even get that idea?”

Someone cleared his throat, and the both of you looked behind you. Kíli stood there with the biggest grin on his face, hands in his pockets. “I might have something to do with that… I may or may not have tried to make you jealous on purpose.” He was obviously very pleased with himself; his little plan had worked so well. Fíli shot up from his place and Kíli took a few steps back. “Hey, hey, don’t look at me like that. You needed a nudge!”

But then Fíli seemed to remember what you said moments before. He turned so fast, his mustache beads smacked against his cheek. “Wait… you like me?” You nodded. A big smile appeared on his face. “Not Kíli? Me?” “Yes! Now will you please come back here so I can kiss you? I’m kind of stuck here,” you smiled, pointing at your ankle. 

Now it was Fíli’s turn to get all red. He hurried back to your side, and lifted you in his arms like he had done a few days before. Only now he wasn’t planning on letting you go ever again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your forehead against his. “Now how about that kiss,” you whispered. His lips ghosted yours for a second before you lost your patience and tugged at his hair.  It was a sweet and gentle kiss, and he drew away way too soon for your liking. “Always the gentleman,” you sighed, cupping his face and sneaking another short kiss because you couldn’t help yourself. “We have plenty of time, kurduwê,” he laughed. “Kurduwê? That’s new. What happened to mimûna?” “You wanted a new nickname, didn’t you?”

You turned to Kili, who was watching the both of you with a smile. “What does it mean?” “Kurduwê means ‘my heart’,” Fíli answered. “I wasn’t asking you,” you laughed. “But I do like this one better.” You gave him another kiss. Kíli groaned. “Guys, please don’t make me regret this…” The three of you laughed at that, and you promised him you would try to behave yourself. 

The others finally started cheering, letting you know they had heard the whole thing. Congratulations were given and Oin complimented Fíli on his excellent bandaging skills, after he checked your ankle. The company did give Fíli a hard time about his jealousy, and Kíli couldn’t help but contribute. “Oh, and Fíli?” Kíli said to his brother, smacking his shoulder a few times in a brotherly way. “Hmm?” “It’s still my turn to carry Y/N tomorrow.” Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​

A/N: There you go! Please let me know what you think of it with a reblog or a comment, heck, send me an ask or a dm and we’ll talk about this fic! Why don’t we talk about all the possible endings I wrote for this one, before I threw them all out and wrote what you just read?

[middleearthpixie]

In Time ~ Chapter Thirty-Two

Summary: Thorin returns to Erebor for the first time since the Battle of the Five Armies

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Amara (female OC)

Characters: Thorin, Amara, The Company, Dáin Ironfoot, Iron Hills dwarves

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,469

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother

They departed the Provincial House a short while later to begin the trek toward Erebor. The snow stopped shortly before they left, but there were still several inches coating the ground and it shifted softly beneath Amara’s feet. The sun’s light bounced off the white blanket to temporarily blind her, so she tightened her fingers about Thorin’s as they crested the first rocky slope.

From their vantage point, Amara could see all the way to Ravenhill. At least, she thought the stark stone tower rising in the distance was Ravenhill. She glanced over at Thorin, only to see him staring at it as well, and that gave her the answer.

“Come,” he gave a gentle tug on her hand, “we still have a long way to go.”

The sun had melted most of the snow from the peak and the slope leading down to the plains. Rocks and pebbles skittered with each footstep, clattering down ahead of the Company. The wind picked up, howling as if in warning along the valley. Amara gave up trying to keep her hair out of her eyes, as now sooner did she drag it away from her face, than another sharp gust tore through to send it in all directions once more.

The plains were windswept and battle scarred, with huge tracts of soil just ripped from where it belonged. There were ditches and gullies, broken arrows and sword pieces littered the sandy, rocky ground. She was thankful when the wind blew through, for it carried away the foul, brimstone stench of orc carcasses rotting even under that weak sun. She assumed some of the freshly dug patches of earth were the graves of elves, dwarves, and men who fell in the battle.

Thorin’s fingers tightened about hers as they finally crested the last peak and Erebor was now within his grasp once more. In the daylight, the devastation wasn’t quite so thorough. The pile of rubble at the entrance had been split in half to allow entrance into the city, and the shouts and clanging of workers and their tools rolled toward them.

“It looks as if Dáin and the others opted to come back here first,” Balin said, his white beard and hair fluttering like cotton in the wind. “Perhaps it’s a bit more—ah—inhabitable this time around.”

Thorin nodded slowly, his, “Perhaps,” soft and distant.

She glanced over at him. His gaze was locked on Erebor’s entrance even as his fingers tightened about hers further. She gently squeezed his hand back. “It will be all right.”

He nodded. “I know it will. But—”

As they finally reached Erebor, Amara was stunned by the sheer size of the façade. It seemed to reach the sky, and to her surprise, it wasn’t black stone at all, but instead a gleaming sea green labradorite, into which the full-body likeness of two dwarves (she assumed Thorin’s father and grandfather) had been carved, along with elaborate khuzdal runes. She couldn’t help but gape up at the front, even as Thorin said, “Mind your steps, amrâlimê. I should hate to see you break an ankle on the rubble.”

“Thorin, this…” she forced herself to look back at him, shaking her head, “this is amazing…”

“At one point, Erebor was the most powerful kingdom in Middle Earth,” he told her with no little pride. “And now you see why.”

“I knew Erebor was powerful, but I had no idea just how grand that scope was.”

They reached the edge of the obsidian walkway that led into Erebor and Thorin stopped. His palm grew damp against hers. “When I left here that morning,” he said, his voice and deep, “I fully intended to never set foot inside it again.”

“We don’t have to go inside right at once,” she told him.

“No. It’s fine.” He took a deep breath and they followed the others into the city.

As they stepped out of the sunlight and into Erebor’s darkness, Amara couldn’t see much anything at first. Her eyes adjusted slowly and her heart sank. Although she didn’t expect the city to be the glorious thing of its heyday, she certainly did not expect what she saw.

Dust, soot, or grime coated every visible surface, the walls cracked and scorched in places, scarred by Smaug’s talons. What furnishings there were, were old and decrepit, and broken marble and stone littered every corner. However, around her, she saw dwarves all working, sweeping up debris, washing and polishing the stones as best they could. The sounds of tools and construction rang through the chilled air, which gave her a modicum of hope.

“It isn’t much now,” Thorin murmured, pausing to look about, “but it will be again.”

“I know. And whatever I can do to help, I’ll be happy to.”

He smiled at her. “How did I know you’d say that?”

“Because I need to keep busy.”

“This will certainly do that.” He gave a gentle tug on her arm. “Come along. I’ll show you around.”

“Thorin? Is tha’ you, laddie?”

They both spun about and Amara bit back a smile at the sight of the short, squat dwarf with sharp blue eyes and a mop of long, rust-colored hair that blended perfectly into his long, rust-colored beard.

Dáin Ironfoot. Thorin’s very colorful cousin.

The two dwarves embraced and Thorin said, “It’s good of you to do all of this on top of what you did at Rivendell.”

“One never turns down the chance to have King Elrond indebted to them,” Dáin replied, clapping Thorin on the back. “And it’s good ta see ye upright, laddie. Although, do my eyes deceive me or is tha’ a bloody elf?”

“Take care, Cousin,” Thorin replied evenly, stepping back to catch her by the hand once more. “This bloody elf is my elf.”

“She looks familiar…” Dáin’s eyes narrowed as his gaze moved slowly over her. “Do I know ye, lassie?”

“We’ve met, yes.” She smiled and then promptly offered up a profanity-laden diatribe, entirely in khuzdal about wishing a pox on the descendants of Azog and their livestock as well.

Dáin’s eyes widened this time, then he burst out laughing, “Elrond’s elf! The healer! How did ye end up wi’ this lunkhead?” He slapped Thorin in the chest.

“He came through my Healing Room,” she told him, smiling over at Thorin. “After the Battle of the Five Armies.”

Dáin’s smile faded. “Oh, laddie, ye had us all tearin’ our beards out what wi’ worrying about ye. The wizard wouldna tell us a thing about where ye’d gone. Not until he sent word asking our help with the orc slug who took Azog’s place did we know where ye’d gone.”

“You haven’t gone and crowned yourself king, have you?”

Dáin shook his head. “No, laddie. The crown is all yers.” He glanced at her again. “Did ye bring her in case ye needed a healer?”

“No and her name is Amara.”

“Amara.” Dáin turned to her and held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet ye away from that infernal healing room of yers, Amara.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well.”

She held out her hand, which he promptly brought to his lips to brush against its back. Lowering it, he said, “If ye ever want to see the Iron Hills—”

“Nice try,” Thorin said with a grin, catching her hand to pull from Dáin’s, “but she is with me, not as a healer, but as my intended.”

Dáin’s eyes went almost round. “Yer intend—” he looked at her—“oh, love, why would ye do such a thing?”

“He is cute.”

“See?” Thorin shrugged. “She finds me cute.”

“Bunnies are cute, love. Yer man isn’t supposed ta be cute.”

“Enough. Now, let me show her around a bit, will you? Go make yourself scarce, Dáin.” Thorin made a sweeping motion with his free hand. “And tell me, please, you have not been making use of my chambers?”

“They’re all yers, Cousin. But, they are probably dusty and in disarray.”

“I can fix that.” Thorin turned to her. “Ready?”

“I think so, yes.” She offered Dáin a smile. “It was lovely to meet you under happier circumstances.”

“Aye, but I just canna wrap my head around ye willingly marryin’ this troll.”

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, Dáin, or I’d let you know just what I think of your humor.” Thorin called this over his shoulder as he turned and steered her away from Dáin and down toward an immense central staircase.

She shivered at the dank chill that settled about her. It was no ordinary chill, but one seeping with darkness to unsettle her to no end. Was it remnants of the dragon’s residency there? How long did it linger on the treasure hoard upon which Smaug slept? Elves were far more sensitive to such things, although they rarely were affected by it.

A glance over at Thorin told her he was outwardly calm, unbothered by the same heaviness settling about her own shoulders. Had he known he was falling victim to the sickness or did the change come over him slowly enough that he didn’t realize it at all? And how did he figure it out, either way?

The wide staircase, with its elegantly carved marble handrails, led down deep into the mountain. Torches in sconces of gold and silver dotted the walls at even intervals, their flames dancing slowly to light their way. At the foot, the walkway split in two directions and led to two more staircases, while across from the main staircase, a waist-high, elaborately carved railing would keep one from barreling straight over the ledge.

Slipping her hand from his, Amara, moved to that railing and gazed down in wonder at the mountains of gold stretched out like a sea before her. Floating atop that sea were gemstones of every ilk, golden goblets and plates, pearls the size of her hand, more wealth, more treasure, than she thought possible.

“The treasure hoard of King Thrór,” Thorin explained, coming to stand alongside her. “Stay right here.”

With that, he made his way down the staircase to his right, which led to that massive hoard. The coins clinked, the stones sparkled as they shifted, and the sound of him striding across that sea was almost musical in its shifting sounds.

She leaned over the railing as he moved further away. “What are you doing, Thorin?”

“You will see. Trust me, it will make sense in a moment.”

As he spoke, the treasure beneath his boots shifted and he lost his balance, throwing out his arms to steady himself before he toppled over. It was irrational, but she feared if he did fall, the gold would just swallow him whole.

He stopped then, slowly spun about, then took several more steps before bending over to rummage through a smaller pile of treasure. He sifted through it a little more, then proclaimed, “Here it is,” and straightened up.

Turning back toward her, he smiled and called, “Catch!” before firing something at her.

She stepped back, her hands instinctively coming up to protect her face and she managed to catch the enormous amethyst as she did so. She smiled as she lowered it and looked to see him still beaming up at her, looking enormously proud of having thrown that stone at her. “It’s the same color as your eyes, amrâlimê.”

“Thorin, what are you about?”

He waded back to the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time to reach her once more. As he stood before her, he reached for the amethyst, holding it up. It was a rich, dark purple, the facets throwing off flashes of blue and red as he spun it slowly. “Your eyes, Amara. They are this same beautiful shade of violet. I’ve never seen violet eyes before meeting you. I didn’t even know such a color existed in eyes.”

He pressed the amethyst into her hand. “I will ask Balin to fashion this into something for you. What would you like?”

“Thorin, I—”

“What? Look,” he swept his arm wide over the railing, “even after Esgaroth takes their share, there will be more than enough left over for all of us. And I know you do not wear much in the way of jewelry, but dwarves take great pride in our crafting of said jewelry.”

The amethyst was heavy in her hand. “Thorin, you could craft a dozen pieces from a stone this size and I cannot possibly wear that much. It’s impractical when you’ve got your hands inside someone else.”

He took the stone back, smiling as he said, “But you will not be putting your hands inside anyone else.”

“I will until I get people trained to my satisfaction.”

“Amara.” He set the amethyst on the ground at his feet and caught her by the hands to draw her close. His eyes were soft, glittering in the low light. “I can give you anything you wish. You need only say it, and it is yours.”

She smiled, pulling her hands free to slide her arms about his middle. “I have everything I want right here.”

“Amara.”

“But, perhaps a pair of earrings would be nice,” she amended, brushing his lips with hers. “And a silver ear cuff, to match the one you wear. And maybe a diamond necklace and matching crown, to remind the world I am a queen now? Or would that be a bit over the top?”

His laugh bounced off the walls all around them. “I care not if you are joking, you are getting each one of those things,” he told her, wrapping his arms about her to pull her flush against him.

She leaned in to nuzzle him. His breath hitched, his pulse beat faster beneath her lips, and his voice was husky as he murmured, “Oh, amrâlimê… what you do to me…”

“What’s that, dwarf?” she whispered back before catching his left earlobe between gentle teeth.

“We need some time alone, givashel. I’ve missed you…”

“And I’ve missed you, too.” She traced the tip of her tongue down along the side of his neck, tugging aside the neck of his tunic to move into the curve of his shoulder.

“Amara…” A hint of a moan crept into his voice, his left hand skimming down over the curve of her backside. He cupped her cheek, pulled her hard against him. “Kurduwê, let’s go down there and make love on that bottomless pile of treasure. I want to see you naked on a bed of gold, surrounded by gems.”

She pulled back to meet his smoky gaze. “What if someone comes looking for us?”

“They won’t. They’ll hear the moans and turn around if they know what’s good for them.”

“Thorin!”

“What? They will.” He held her gaze, then smiled even as he sighed, “Or, we can wait until we’re behind a door that locks.”

She couldn’t hold back her chuckle. “That would probably be best.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Thorin’s chambers were not what Amara expected, and it had nothing to do with with the dragon’s seizure of the city. They were a level above the treasure hoard and to the western side of the city, completely undisturbed by Smaug.

His apartments consisted of four rooms—a sitting room, a guest room, a bathing chamber and his personal chambers, and while they were all of a decent size, they were nowhere near as immense as she would have thought. The furnishings remained intact, although anything fabric had been eaten to shreds by moths, left tattered and decrepit. Dust and cobwebs had taken over, however. And judging by one corner, so had some sort of rodent.

Thorin scowled at the mess, but Amara just said, “Get me a broom and we will have it at least somewhat inhabitable.”

He didn’t look as if he believed her, shaking his head. “I think we need more than a broom.”

“It’s a start.”

With a heavy sigh, he sank against a low chest. “The last time I was in this room… was the morning Smaug came.”

“Where did you sleep when you are here before the Battle of the Five Armies?”

To her surprise, a hint of color rose along his cheekbones. “You mean when I slept? I stayed in the Throne Room. In my grandfather’s throne.”

“What?”

“The Mad King who refused to leave his throne.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Would you like to see it?”

She crossed to him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Through the thick henley, the muscle layered across them were as solid as the stone around them. “Do you wish to show me?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t meet her gaze, but instead looked somewhere over her shoulder. “Are you certain you wish to hear about how mad I was?”

“Why do I think you exaggerate?”

His hands curved about her hips, warm through her velvet leggings. “Trust me when I say I do not exaggerate, Amara. Come and I’ll show you.”

She stepped back to give him room to stand. He did, easing around her to move to the door, where he paused and said, “I know you think I dwell on what I’ve done, that I should just make my peace with it and move on, but I don’t think you fully understand just how… how much I failed these dwarves. The halfling. The people of Esgaroth, to whom I promised could share in the wealth of this mountain if they but aided us. I wanted it all for myself. It was mine. The Arkenstone was mine.”

“Whatever happened to that stone?”

He offered up a slight smile. “The bowman is holding it until we reach an agreement. Once the contracts are signed, he will hand it over to me.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. I unite the seven dwarf tribes, and we go after the rest of the orcs? I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I cannot think much beyond the work that awaits us above, restoring this city to its former glory.” He tugged open the door. “Come. It’s time I showed you the part of my history I am less than proud of.”

“Thorin…”

“It’s the truth, Amara. My truth.”

The Throne Room was above the treasure hoard—a cavernous square chamber with vaulting ceilings and the only furniture in there was the massive, broken and crumbling green marble and gold throne upon which King Thrór had once sat. It was on a small dais, three steps up in the center of the room.

“At one time,” Thorin told her, gesturing to the throne, “the Arkenstone sat up here.”

He stepped up onto the dais, and showed her above the throne, the elaborate carved block of labradorite, etched with runes she could not read, with a large notch cut from it. “Right here. My guess is my grandfather, upon hearing the commotion when Smaug showed himself, popped the Arkenstone from its nesting spot to keep it safe. I don’t know what he thought, when he hurried below, to the hoard, I don’t know what his rationale was for heading in that direction, for there was no escape, should Smaug find him there, which of course he would have.

“Somehow, he dropped the stone and it became buried in the hoard. I don’t know how Master Baggins found it, but he did. And he did it while avoiding being devoured by Smaug.”

“Hobbits are very good at not being seen if they don’t wish to be seen.” She remained where she stood, in the middle of the floor, just watching him. He sank into the throne and for a moment, looked so perfectly comfortable there, that for the first time since meeting him, it hit her.

He was a king.

“And this was where you pulled him from Smaug?”

“No. The staircase above the hoard. That was where he dropped the Arkenstone and where I caught up with him.” With his forefinger, Thorin traced something along the arm of the throne, and when he looked up, his eyes held a sadness she hadn’t seen before. “I saw him die, you know.”

“What?” She stepped up onto the dais.

He nodded, his forefinger still tracing over the pattern he’d drawn in the dust. “At Moria. The Battle of Azanulbizar. That was where I first crossed paths with the Defiler.” He looked up at her, then patted his thigh. “Come and sit and I’ll tell you the story.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she settled onto that thick thigh and leaned against him. “You don’t need to if you’d rather not.”

“No, I don’t mind.” He eased his arm about her waist. “Moria, or Khazad-dûm, was the ancestral home of Durin’s Folk. My ancestors. After Smaug, we were left homeless, starving, without anything to our names. Smaug stole Erebor, the orcs stole Moria, and we chose to take it back.

“My younger brother, Frerin, was slain there, as was my grandfather. Azog beheaded him in front of me, much like how he thought to slay Fili before me.”

He said it softly, but there was no mistaking the sadness woven into every word. She slid her arms about his neck, shaking her head. “I didn’t know. How terrible for you. I cannot even imagine losing a brother and a grandfather at the same time, never mind seeing it.”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the granite. “I didn’t allow myself to think about it at the time. I just wanted to kill Azog, to wipe him from Middle Earth entirely.” His eyes opened again and a slightly smile lifted his lips. “That is where Oakenshield came from. In my rage, I just attacked, killed anything that came between me and the Defiler and when I reached him, he swung and first my sword, then my shield when flying.

“He thought he had me trapped, that he would just end the line of Durin right there and then and as he swung, out of sheer desperation, I grabbed the closest thing to me—an oak branch—and brought it up to deflect his blade. It gave me enough time to reach my sword, but when I tried to run him through, he turned at the last minute and instead of killing him, I lopped off his arm.

“I thought I’d killed him, that he’d slunk off to his hole and died of his wounds, and I earned the name Oakenshield.”

“But he didn’t die,” she finished, letting her fingers skim along his hair, over his ear, down his back.

“Apparently not.” He opened his eyes to gaze at her. “I learned that someone had put a price on my head when I just happened to meet up with Gandalf in Bree. I found out who had done it when we fell into Goblintown and the Goblin King took great delight in telling me. Right before he ordered his minions to lop off my head to send to the Defiler.”

“You just make friends everywhere you go, don’t you?”

It was risky, but he smiled, his thumb sweeping over her hip. “It seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“I am so sorry, Thorin. I cannot imagine that at all.”

“Azog hunted me all across Middle Earth. Outside of Goblintown, to the River Anduin, to Esgaroth, to Ravenhill. And he nearly ended the line of Durin.”

“How did he wield a blade with only one arm, though?”

He shook his head. “The arm I’d lopped off? He fashioned a double-bladed sword to attach to it.”

A double-bladed sword.

Two raised, pink scars on a firm, well-defined belly appeared in her mind. “Oh, my…”

“And he would have probably killed me, I mean, truly killed me, had I not come to my senses when I did. I learned too late we’d been ambushed, but had I still been mad, I would have just gone after all of them at the same time. So, come with me, and let me show you how mad a king I was.”

She eased from his lap and when he stood, she slid her arms about his waist and tucked her head against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “What is this for?”

“Moria, Goblintown, the river Anduin, Esgaroth, Ravenhill. If I could take your sorrow and make it my own, I would. If I could find a way to bring back those you’ve lost, I would.”

“You brought back Kili and Fili, Amara. I can ask for no more than that.” He pulled away to catch her her face in his hands. “And without all of the rest, I don’t find my way into your Healing Room. We never meet and you aren’t here with me now.”

“Thorin, if it meant you could have everyone you loved back, I would make the sacrifice.”

“I wouldn’t.” His eyes searched hers, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “I love you, Amara of Rivendell and I would not want any part of my future with you taken away for anything in my past.”

“Thorin—”

“I wouldn’t.” He tilted her face slightly and leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss that began soft, but quickly deepened. She tightened her arms about him, her toes almost curling from the passion in that one kiss.

He broke it to sweep his lips along her temple. “Come, there is one more thing I need to share with you here. Then, we should go up to Ravenhill.”

She pulled away. “Are you certain?”

He nodded. “I need to sleep soundly again before I do go mad and you’re right. The only way I will ever make peace with what happened there and to go up there one last time.”

As he said that, a wry laugh bubbled to his lips. “One last time. That’s what I’d said to them when I came back around to myself. I asked if they’d follow me one last time. And they did. After everything I’d done, they still followed me.”

“I know,” she told him, reaching up to brush her fingers along the braid she’d woven into his hair. “You told me this the night you kissed me for the first time.”

“That was the first wise decision I’d made in a lifetime.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She slipped her hand into his. “Now, show me was it was you wished to.”

“Remember, I warned you I’d gone mad.”

“Stop.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and led her away from the Throne Room, down into the depths of Erebor, below the living spaces, below the treasure hoard.

Down to the forges.

[greenedera]

🎙 Meet Blip, the gully-dwarf barbarian.

Dragonlance fandom - commissioned by the podcast “Echoes of krynn”

More: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/o2yqyq

A fierce fighter in the pits of the Arena, her pig friend "Dinner" at her side. 'She strong. She fights.' | 📜(Gully dwarves are typical of the #dragonlance setting). 🎙 I had the pleasure to paint the "Echoes of Krynn" podcast characters! The podcast, "Echoes of Krynn: Dragons of the Hidden Flood" is starting on April 18th, 2022 on www.echoesofkrynn.com 🎙 | The adventure is D&D 5th edition, set in the Dragonlance setting some time after the War of the Lance. "The Aghar, or Gully Dwarves, are considered by many to be the most repulsive of races on Krynn. Gully dwarves are the diminutive cousins of true dwarves, though they still have a seat on the Council of Thanes in Thorbardin. Their leader, the Highbulp, is the Aghar who is most accomplished at groveling his way out of any given situation." (source: DL Nexus) Podcast on: www.echoesofkrynn.com Lawful stupid RPG on IG: https://www.instagram.com/lawfulstupidrpg/?hl=en #dragonlance Learn more at http://echoesofkrynn.com!