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lathalea · 2 years

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Blame It on Cider, part 8

Fandom: The Hobbit Relationships: Thorin x Yrsa (Dwarf Female OC) Rating: E (18+ only) Warnings: snowed in, smut, smut, smut, smut, Thorin head over heels in love, fluff

Summary: After a big celebration (and a lot of cider) Yrsa, a cheeky herbalist from the Blue Mountains, wakes up in the arms of a handsome (but grumpy) blacksmith who turns out to be none other than the famous king - Thorin Oakenshield. Fighting her hangover, she decides to avoid the awkwardness of "the morning after" and disappears. Will Thorin find her again?

You can read this fic here and on AO3.

Searching for the previous parts? Here they are:

Khuzdul: Harsûnê - my flame-lady Mabiramarralûnê - my passionate man Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls (the place in the Blue Mountains where Longbeards lived after Sack of Erebor) Ursarusê - my tiny fire Biraijzêr - “the pull”, for Dwarves, both being in love and feeling that this is the right person to marry Lulkh - fool

Blame It on Cider, part 8

One week later

The sweet weight of Yrsa’s body as she straddled him, the warmth of her skin flush against his, made Thorin wake up in an instant. His eyes blinked open only to see her fiery hair cascading down towards his face as she lowered herself over him. She was like a secret magical spring glade in the middle of a frozen winter forest he was fortunate enough to find. Yrsa. His eyes took in the sight of her; her radiant eyes, green as fresh grass, her glistening locks caressing his cheek and filling his lungs with the scent of a blooming meadow, her full, pink lips, inviting and warm, like the first rays of the morning sun. “Good morning, Master Blacksmith,” she brushed her nose against his, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips, her fingers playing with the curls on his chest. “Have you slept well?” “I think I may still be dreaming,” he murmured and let his lips meet hers in a lazy, lengthy kiss, their private little ritual they eagerly repeated every morning since their first night at the shepherd’s hut. A shadow of a grin formed on Thorin’s lips when he recalled that kissing was not the only thing they did with equal eagerness every morning.

His hands slid down her shoulders, gliding down her back only to rest over the enticing curve of her hips, eliciting a small sigh out of her. Yrsa’s knees were pressed against his sides now, her hands resting on both sides of his head. A thought crossed Thorin’s mind – his warrior instinct should have been warning him about being trapped. Instead, his whole body reveled in the fact of being surrounded by such an alluring cage. Their kiss deepened, its sweetness giving way to fire inside him, kindled by her delicious mouth, by her nimble tongue, by the sensation of her pebbled nipples brushing against his pectorals. Oh yes, his whole body was awake now, hot magma running through his veins, rousing his most primal urges, spreading through his lower abdomen and making the tension in his groin grow more intense. His fingers dug into the beguiling softness of her skin as he bent his legs up, his feet flat on the bed, making her round bottom bump against his thighs. Their lips parted and Yrsa gave out a surprised gasp. Her lovely face seemed to glow as her eyes suddenly opened. Her unfocused gaze, her copper eyebrows, arched like robin’s wings, contrasting with the paleness of her creamy skin, her plump lips already slightly swollen because of his ministrations, everything about her was… wonderful. Perfect. Beautiful. Thorin yearned for Yrsa deeply, as if the last time they made love happened not several hours but several centuries ago.

A triumphant growl left his lips as he devoured her mouth, so tender, so delectable, and Yrsa let out another sigh as she slowly lowered herself over him. The impossible heat of her womanhood pressed against his hardness. Sweet Mahal, she was so wet already, so incredibly ready for him. Thorin felt dizzy, utterly drunk with her, and yet he wanted more of her, all of her, body and soul; she was his and he was hers, and he needed to show it to her at that very moment.

He began to sit up, intending to bring her even closer and then plunge into the sweet pool of her arousal to soar with her on the wings of passion, but just then a slender hand pressed against his chest.

“Let me…?” Yrsa spoke, a shadow of a blush settling on her cheeks, and all he found himself able to do was nod and rest his back on the bed once more.

During the last few days, Thorin found it exhilarating to see those new rare glimpses of her boldness as Yrsa seemed to be testing the waters with him. Secretly he hoped that perhaps she was finally accepting that he was a Dwarf of flesh and bone and not only that cursed title that seemed to unnecessarily intimidate her.

She lowered her face to press a tender kiss on his lips, making a river of heat rush down his spine. His palms rested on her strong, shapely thighs, caressed them impatiently, ready to move to her hips and set them at that one sweet angle so that he could finally burrow inside her and become one with her.

But her small hands closed on his wrists and pulled them away from her body, pinning his arms to the bed. He met her gaze and found a playful flicker in her eyes. Yrsa tilted her head surrounded by the halo of her flaming hair that flowed all the way down to cover her mouthwatering, full breasts. Thorin wanted to reach up and expose those beauties to his hungry gaze so he could admire their perfect shapes to his heart’s content, then touch them and taste them, but Yrsa’s hands still held his wrists firmly against the bed. “You Longbeards have this saying… Let the forge come to the blacksmith, is that correct?”

“Aye.” Thorin’s tongue wet his suddenly parched lips and he was rewarded with a smile.

Yrsa let go of him, then her fingertips meandered along his shoulders, his pectorals, his abdomen and lower, kindling all-consuming fire within him, painting a sizzling trail all the way to his navel and beyond.

“Close your eyes?” she whispered. “Please?”

As darkness surrounded him, Thorin gave out a growl when her delicate fingers encircled his throbbing member and moved lazily back and forth only to finally press his tip against her pulsing heat. Yrsa descended upon him unhurriedly, letting him delve into her depths, enveloping him with her silky flesh, pulling him in deeper to the very core of her wetness and, as his hips bucked into her, she tightened around him. A half-grunt half-moan of pleasure left his lips. There was only her touch, her scent, the sound of her quickened breath, her dewy warmth, her firm thighs pressing against him. There was only her.

“Harsûna…” he muttered, savouring the moment, feeling the slight pressure of her palms splayed on his chest, her body swaying slightly. “May I look now?”

“Yes,” Yrsa whispered, her voice slightly tense, but she didn’t move.

Thorin opened his eyes. How lovely she looked above him, joined with him, slightly tilting towards his face, her moist lips forming a delicious “o” of something akin to surprise.

“Is all well, my little witch?” he asked, moving his hand towards her face.

“It is,” she panted, her eyes unfocused. “You are just so… so much…” “Too much?”

“Just enough,” Yrsa took his hand, placing a kiss in the middle of his palm, and intertwining her fingers with his. “I’m savouring you.”

“Then let me give you more to savour,” Thorin moved his hips in a circular motion, in a way he had already learned Yrsa liked especially much. A chuckle died on her lips as she moaned and rocked on top of him. Her fingers tightened against his palm while she slowly lifted her hips only to lower herself against him, and a jolt of pleasure ran to his core. Her hips repeated the motion, slightly quicker, and then again, and soon a triumphant but contagious smile appeared on Yrsa’s face as she found her unhurried pace; each of her movements kindling new fires inside him.

Thorin did not know when her palms pressed his hands against the bed, their fingers still intertwined. Mesmerized, he devoured every single inch of her nakedness with his eyes like a starving man. He feasted on the way her body rose and fell, the way her thighs moved, her hips finding the perfect angle every single time, picking up speed; the way his hardness sank between her taut folds; the way her pert behind brushed against his own thighs and each time it happened, eliciting a moan from her.

Thorin noticed how unfocused Yrsa’s heavily lidded eyes were while her soft eyelashes cast sensual shadows on her flushed cheeks. He could not tear his eyes off her every time she took him deep inside her, a myriad of sensations etched in her beautiful features. Snugly enveloped in the heat of her little forge, he matched his movements with hers, giving her an extra thrust whenever her pelvis met his, and then being rewarded with yet another melodic moan that fell from her lips. Not being fully in control was a new feeling for Thorin, an exhilarating feeling that swelled inside him even more whenever her velvety walls tightly wrapped around his girth in a fluid motion, never slowing down the pace.

The burning pressure in him was almost unbearable, Yrsa’s body keeled towards his chest, her breathing uneven, her fingers tightening against his even more. By now, Thorin learned her reactions well enough to recognize what was about to happen. Yrsa was lost in her passion, chasing her pleasure, her movements faster and erratic. When she pressed her alluring, trembling body against his with all her weight, his hips instinctively bucked upward, making Yrsa stiffen, and she succumbed to the rapture that consumed her with his name on her lips.

That was when the intense feeling of release rushed through Thorin’s body and stars exploded under his eyelids. As the waves of pleasure swept over him, he held her close against his chest, and it felt right and exhilarating and all-encompassing, and each breath he took filled his lungs with the scent of a blooming meadow. His fiery Yrsa.

As he felt Yrsa relax against him in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Thorin pressed a small kiss on her forehead and whispered, “Good morning, Harsûnê.“

“Thorin, Mabiramarralûnê…” she mumbled drowsily, melting into him, her full lips brushing against his earlobe.

He drifted off to sleep, holding the woman he loved in his arms, for the first time in years feeling at peace with the world.

***

“Thorin… Thorin, wake up! We have overslept!” Yrsa placed her hand on Thorin’s bare shoulder and shook it gently.

“Again…?” he grunted into a pillow, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, again,” she stifled a chuckle when he pulled the blanket over his head. “It is almost noon!”

“In that case… Let us go back to sleep,” he offered and pulled her into him, his powerful arms wrapping tightly around her. In the blink of an eye, Yrsa found herself pressed against his chest, his coarse hair tickling her nose. She would be lying to herself if she said she minded it. To be honest, the thought of dozing off like this again, enjoying the warmth of Thorin’s body and his closeness, did not seem like a bad idea at all.

“But weren’t we supposed to leave the hut first thing in the morning?” she protested faintly.

“Not after you rode me like a pony all the way to Emyn Muil and back.” As he spoke, one of his hands started tracing the line of her spine, making her purr like a cat that had just drank a bowl of cream.

She giggled, “That was yesterday. Today it was all your doing! I was minding my own business, sleeping innocently, while you decided to… stoke the fire in the forge with your poker.”

“My poker?!” He opened one eye and huffed, faking indignance. “Truly?” “Yes, and a very large one, too!” Yrsa tried to avert the damage, failing to hide a smirk in his chest. “Because its owner is a very… very big and strong Dwarf!”

“Keep talking, my little witch,” he murmured into her hair, but she tilted her head up and found his lips instead, kissing him sloppily. At that very moment, kissing Thorin was undeniably superior to talking. Yrsa did not mind that either. In fact, it would be so easy to get used to it…

“A few more of your kisses and I will start suspecting that you want me to forget who complained about being too sore to walk today...” Thorin’s sinfully low voice rumbled in his chest, interrupting her thoughts.

“I have no memory of saying any such words!” Yrsa chuckled teasingly, her fingers running down the hard plain of his pectoral while something even harder and incredibly hot pressed against her upper thigh. Something fluttered in her core as a familiar growl left Thorin’s lips.

“Allow me to refresh your memory then, my lady,” he murmured, cupping her bottom with one of his large palms and rolling her on her back.

“Thorin! This way we’ll never leave the bed until the evening!” she rolled her eyes theatrically.

“Challenge accepted, Harsûnê,” as he spoke, his breath set the smooth skin of her breast on fire. And guess what? She did not mind it at all.

***

Ploughing through the deep snow, Yrsa smiled to herself, quickly glancing at Thorin who walked beside her. It took them two more days until they finally managed to wake up on time and leave the cavern. Shamefully she had to admit that it was not their (nonexistent) internal discipline that allowed them to finally leave that place, but rather… hunger. No, not the one of carnal variety (this one would have kept them in that bed for at least a week more). The truth was simple: their food rations were running low. Besides, Yrsa had one more reason to hurry home.

“I wonder if Ursarusê will remember me at all. I’ve been gone for two weeks,” Yrsa sighed, her eyes set on the large gates of her home city carved into a mountain wall ahead. The tip of her reddened nose tingled. It was a freezing winter afternoon and the sky was rapidly darkening, but at least the blizzard was gone for good.

“I have often left Dís with her sons for weeks or even months when they were tiny pebbles. Every time I returned, they would give me their big, toothless smiles and ask me for stories, as if I had never left,” Thorin’s lips curled up in a fond smile when he stopped for a moment.

Yrsa took his outstretched gloved hand and squeezed it in appreciation. Whatever happened between them in that shepherd’s hut (she desperately tried to avoid thinking about the most graphic details at the moment, soon she would be home, greeting her family and she needed to have her wits about her and act like a respectable lady and not like his Harsûnê), and wherever it might lead, having Thorin around felt surprisingly… well… good. Comforting. Reassuring. And no, she was not drunk (and certainly not on cider! Uh, what would she give now for one mug of warm, spiced cider!). Unless one meant the dizziness she felt every time Thorin looked at her in that tender way of his, making her knees weak.

She had to admit that after spending a bit more time with him, she occasionally caught herself thinking of him as “her” Thorin. Not a haughty king, certainly not a grumpy blacksmith, but just Thorin. Thorin, her… who? Yrsa was not quite sure. A part of her (a growing part, to be honest) needed time to seriously think about his proposal, or rather, his proposals. Each of them, separately, overwhelmed her with its implications, and together, they made her mind whirl.

The first one, the offer of employment in Thorinuldûm, seemed too good to be true. Luckily, Yrsa now knew Thorin too well to even suspect that an honourable Dwarf like him would lower himself to bribing her in that manner only because of their… um… not-yet-specified-but-very-private-and-very-enjoyable-relation. From what she heard, the new settlement of the Ereborean refugees was quite large. If they really had only one healer and one apothecary, as Thorin claimed, she could easily make her ends meet there — unlike in her home city, where there seemed to be as many healers, surgeons, and herbalists as mountain goat herders. And Thorin reassured her that both she and Ursarusê would be welcome in Thorin's Halls (and of course she only meant the name of the city in Westron, certainly not Thorin's own halls! No, not his home! Certainly not his bedroom! Not at all! Not thinking about a cute little rocking cradle standing next to a bed large enough to fit two people!). In that new city, she and her little girl would be away from the prying eyes of people who have known Yrsa all of her life – and their wagging tongues. Not often a Dwarf-maiden returned home after a long absence with a newborn babe in her arms, but without a husband.

And then there was Thorin’s second proposal. Whenever she tried to wrap her head around it, something seemed to paralyse her at the idea of her, Yrsa, a simple herbalist, courting the king of Longbeards. And don’t even try to think about where that courting would lead to, Yrsa’s brain! Every Dwarf knew that courting was only a step away from plaiting the marriage braids and rarely—if ever—broken off. And Dwarves married only once in their lives! One simply did not agree to be courted if they did not feel the biraijzêr. The pull, as her people called it. The deep conviction that one found the person they wanted to spend their life with. Did Thorin feel it? Or was it just mostly lust and maybe a pinch of infatuation on his part? And what about her own feelings? As much as she liked the idea of enjoying Thorin’s closeness or falling asleep in his arms every night, she realised how absurd the idea of her becoming his wife was. Stupid Dwarf! Why couldn’t he be a simple Broadbeam blacksmith? Why did he have to ruin everything by being born into some stupid royal family half the world away?

“Do not fret, Harsûnê. Ursarusê will be happy to see you again,” the stupid Dwarf’s rumbly voice reached her.

“Your nephews… How old are they?” Yrsa tried to focus on their conversation again.

“Fili is eleven and Kili is six, but he claims he is ‘almost ten’,” she heard Thorin chuckle. “I wonder what you will think of them when you meet them.”

Yrsa did not feel any fluttering in her belly at the thought of crossing the threshold of his halls (yes, now she meant his home!) and meeting the stupid Dwarf’s family. She gritted her teeth. It was simply hunger, nothing else.

“Kili reminds me of Tovi, my eldest brother’s son. He is eight, but these days he claims he is ‘almost half-battle age’. I suspect it may have something to do with the fact that his little brother was born a few weeks ago.”

“My mother tells me I was exactly like Kili when my younger brother was born,” Thorin admitted. Looking into his face, it was easy to imagine a tiny, proud princeling puffing up his chest and Yrsa could not stop herself from smiling.

A sudden, strong whiff of wind made Thorin look at the sky with a slight frown.

“If your leg allows it, let us walk faster. I do not like the sight of that cloud.”

Nodding in agreement, she squeezed his hand again and they hastened their pace. Yrsa’s sprained ankle was not yet fully healed—neither was Thorin’s leg—but she did her best, using Thorin’s arm as support when needed. The thought of another blizzard coming soon added to her strength. They would rest and recuperate when they reached the Firebeard stronghold and Yrsa’s family home. The plan was simple. They were to spend several days there and then she would pack all the needed things, her tinctures and herbal essences – everything that could be needed to heal Thorin’s ailing mother. After that, they would travel across the mountains, to Thorinuldûm.

But first, Thorin had to meet her family. And not run away screaming.

***

Yrsa’s stomach growled. It had to be hunger. But since the moment she saw the entrance to the Dwarvish stronghold she was born and raised at, there was also a growing worry in her, making her stomach clench. With every step they were approaching her family home and she still had not talked with Thorin. As soon as the guards greeted them and let them pass into the spacious entrance hall, Yrsa pulled Thorin to the side, away from curious ears. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

“What is it?” Thorin frowned, taking off his hood.

“Would you…” she swallowed. “Would you be greatly offended if I introduced you to my family simply as Thorin the blacksmith?”

He shook his head, “Not at all. This is my craft, after all. Is anything the matter, Yrsa? You look worried.”

“It is just… My family…” she looked away. “It would be better if they did not know about… about who you are. Apart from being a blacksmith, that is. I mean… Maybe when…”

“YRSAAA!!!” an animalistic roar pierced the air. No. This could NOT be happening. Not now. Something—or rather someone—very bulky and very furry charged towards her, heavy footsteps thudding against the stone floor. That someone looked exactly as it sounded – like a drunk bear.

“What in the name of–” Thorin started.

“Ugh!” Yrsa managed to utter before the aforementioned drunk bear crushed her in a hearty hug.

“Lil’ sis!” the beast exclaimed and then hiccuped. “You’re back!”

“Bjalfi! My ribs!” she chuckled, disentangling herself from her brother’s affectionate embrace and giving Thorin a reassuring smile only to see a frown on his face. Not good. She needed to act fast. “Thorin, this is my brother, Bjalfi. Bjalfi, this is Thorin, my… travelling companion.” “Your travelling companion, huh?” Her brother took a good look at him, from head to toe. Yrsa cleared her throat. She was not lying, was she? It was true, they were travelling together and they were companions. Of sorts. They kept each other company, right? Especially during long winter nights… Shut up, Yrsa’s feminine parts! It was time to use the upper brain for once and avoid getting herself in trouble!

“Yes, we met on the trail. Thorin will be staying with us for a couple of days,” she added in a firm voice.

“Will he now…” Bjalfi folded his arms across his chest and glared at her “companion”. And then he hiccuped again.

“Yes, he will,” she rested her fists on her hips. “Because I invited him!”

Yrsa ignored her brother’s ostensible huff that followed and then her eyes rested on the darkening frown on Thorin’s face. She wondered if she should thank Mahal for his silence so far or prepare for the storm his calm preceded.

“A pleasure to meet Yrsa’s brother,” Thorin finally spoke. Coldly. Here he was, the grumpy blacksmith, folding his arms as well and scowling. And then she glanced at her brother who was busy sizing Thorin up and letting out something that sounded like a growl. She tried not to roll her eyes too much. Overprotective Dwarves and their egos.

“Straight from the tavern, eh, Bjalfi?” Yrsa asked lightly, attempting to change the subject.

“Been celebratin’, sis!” her brother grinned widely and hiccuped, making the multiple braid cuffs in his copper-coloured beard clink. “Mithril! He won the race!”

“Congratulations! I knew he would make it this time!” she patted his meaty forearm and explained to Thorin, “Mithril is Bjalfi’s prized race buck. My brother is a mountain goat breeder.”

“Aye,” Bjalfi offered proudly, swaying slightly and puffing up his chest. He was slightly shorter than Thorin, but with his bulk and muscle mass her bear of a brother made up for the height difference. When Thorin offered his reserved congratulations for the victory, Bjalfi narrowed his eyes.

“It was easy. You just need to know how the mind of a billy goat works,” he flashed his teeth in a skewed grin. “In a way, those beasties are like men. Always thinking of getting their paws on a piece of… juicy cabbage. You just need to show them their place, y’know?”

Thorin pressed his lips in a thin line and balled his palm in a fist.

Yrsa felt a pressure increasing in her temples, a sign that a headache was coming. She stepped closer to Thorin, giving him an I-am-losing-my-patience-but-also-please-no-scenes-in-public-yes-I-know-my-brother-is-a-lulkh-sometimes look. Or at least she hoped that was what her gaze conveyed.

“Bjalfi, one more word and I swear…” she groaned and shook her head. “Let us go home, I am famished.”

Yrsa was about to pick up her rucksack from the floor where she had left it when Bjalfi’s heavy hand rested on her shoulder.

“No, no, allow me, lil’ sis. You’re tired!” he pointed at the stone floor, trying not to sway, and added in an ostentatiously resounding whisper, flexing his muscles. “Between you and me, your companion looks like he’s a bit of a wimp.”

“Bjalfi!” Yrsa did what sisters usually did in these kinds of situations and gave him a kick right in his ankle. And she had her favourite iron toe cap boots on! Unfortunately, her misbehaving brother wore thick leather boots too and did not even notice it. Drat! Life was so cruel sometimes.

“What, sis?” he grinned mischievously. “You know very well what I’m talking about!” she retorted, wishing her eyes could shoot lightnings.

“I’d better carry it.” Thorin lifted the rucksack with a grunt. “Bjalfi does not seem stable enough. Not enough juicy cabbage in his diet, I assume.”

“Oh, no! Not you too!” Yrsa turned to him, irritation growing in her. “I can carry it myself, thank you very much. You both better follow me and stop behaving like little boys!”

With these words, she grabbed the rucksack and marched off, gritting her teeth. Behind her, she heard someone grunting and someone else hiccuping. Muttering something about ridiculous Dwarves, she kept on walking, followed by the angry stomping of two pairs of heavy Dwarvish boots.

And to make matters worse, her stomach growled loudly, echoing against the walls of the corridor. She needed some food. And a mug of cider. Or five.

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#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thorin #thorin oakenshield x oc #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x yrsa #fanfic #romance #blame it on cider #cider #in vino veritas

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fishfingersandscarves · 3 years

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which one are u

#i like to think i straddle hobbit and dwarf #lotr #Tolkien #tag meme #im going to regret posting this here but oh well

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lilxberry · 3 years

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Fond Of This Dwarf - Thorin Oakenshield

Requested By: @heyitsgarnet

Hi! I really love your writing! Could I request a Thorin x elf reader who's with the company? He's kind of an doushe to her but then she saves his ass from orcs or something and he's like "oh shit I'm in love." thank yooou! <3

This probably isn’t exactly what you were looking for but I think it’s sweet and does just a good a job. I’m so sorry it took me forever to finish your request, I really wish I could’ve done something for you sooner. Thank you so much for being patient

Warnings: Probably a bad word somewhere lmao. I guess racism??? Angst. Fluff. Mentions of war and death. Pretty much it, I reckon.

Words: 2,331

Parings: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (x elf reader) (x female reader)

_______________

How on Middle Earth had Gandalf think adding you to a company that consisted of multiple dwarves were a good decision you’ll never quite know. You’re completely certain that the grey wizard knew of the dwarves hatred for elves, of course he knew, definitely explains the precautions he had taken when introducing you to those who you were to travel to the lonely mountain with.

Luckily, that hatred slowly dispersed as time passed during your journey. All the dwarves had eventually taken a liking to you, apart from the ever grouchy, complacently brooding Thorin Oakensheild. Even Dwalin had begun to be a more civilised dwarf towards you, for Valars’ sake!

The first one to show some form of kindness to you were Balin. Obviously, he had reason to be all sorts of rude and crude towards you because of your race but you figured he has witnessed enough hostility within his lifetime so refused to show any when truly nessicary.

Ori had been next. It took some time considering he was under the watchful eyes and influential words of his older brothers. Fílí and Kílí followed after that and before you knew it, they all began to follow suit.

Needless to say, you and Bilbo had no issues from the get-go. In fact, you were and still are joined at the hip. And Gandalf, well, he’s Gandalf. You’re not even sure he can actually hate anything.

The journey had been long and treacherous, but you were getting closer and closer each day, even with each and every hindrance and snag you faced. Running everyday for survival is outright exhausting but utterly needed, which is what you were currently partaking in.

“I spy-“

Ori was swiftly cut off with a collective groan from the company whilst you and Bilbo shared an amused look, no doubt Gandalf had a similar expression across his face at the front of the group.

“Not again, lad, for the love of Mahal, please.” Dwalin grumbled as he pressed his fingers against his forehead as if trying to sooth a forming migraine. Ori visibly deflates and sighs quietly, looking like a kicked puppy.

“No, go on, Ori. I’ll play with you.” He perked up just as quickly as he had been denied moments earlier. He beamed up towards you as he straightened out his posture.

“I spy, with my little eye, something…beginning with…T!”

“Tree.” The company’s response was almost automatic, the answer as clear as daylight.

You and Bilbo chuckled before you both turned your attention to the dwarf beside you once again looking down and ashamed. “Don’t worry, Ori. I’m sure as we get closer to the lonely mountain, we’ll find more things to spy.” Bilbo’s encouragement was so sweet that you just had to jump in and help brighten the young dwarfs sour mood also.

“Definitely. Don’t get me started about the endless possibilities for ‘I spy’ inside Erebor.” Ori smiled his widest smile towards you and the hobbit as the others chuckled. All finding amusement in your merriment of a silly childs’ game. All except one.

“You humour me how you would think I would allow you to step foot inside my mountain.”

All humour, all happiness quickly faded until there were scowling faces amongst everyone. You furrowed your shaped eyebrows and slowed to a stop and burn holes into the back of Thorins’ head. You shook your head and began to walk once more with haste, shouldering the rude dwarf as you pass him and race ahead of the company.

You wouldn’t admit it, not verbally, not so outwardly, but his words and distain towards you hurt, very much so. Even though Thorin has shown nothing but his dislike towards you, you couldn’t help to admire his strong will, his caring side that he had shown his kin, his handsome appearance-

-‘NO! Y/N, stop it!’ You scolded yourself mentally as you shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts just as quickly as they had entered your mind once more. He didn’t like you, not your race at least. He made that more than obvious for you and everyone around you.

You sighed inwardly before slowing your strides, allowing the company to catch up to where you had stormed off. You could hear the scolding the few bold enough to do so were giving Thorin, though you knew that the probability of him actually considering of what they were saying were nought.

Someone, who you presumed to be Gandalf, cleared their throat, noting the proximity between you and the group now they have caught up to your small steps. The silence consumed the company as they all sluggishly dragged their feet as they trudged along, awkwardness surrounding each and every dwarf, once again, all except that stubborn royal pain in the jacksie.

“Out of the way, elf.” He spat the name of your kind with such distain and disgust that your heart panged with an immense pain, your chest tightened, your intake of breath quick and sharp. You felt the burning of tears build up within your eyes as he passed you gruffly but refused to let them fall.

You will NOT seem weak in front of people- no, dwarves- like him. Bilbo caught up to walk beside you and places a gentle, comforting hand on to your forearm, smiling up at you sympathetically. The rest of the walk was silent, that was until you all heard the shrill cry of an orcs horn.

_______________

Your lungs begged for air, every inch of muscle within your body burned and longed for rest. Fatigue was catching up with all of you and fast.

“We cannot run any longer, we must stand our ground!” You couldn’t tell if Dwalin was pleading or trying to be demanding with Thorin and Gandalf, all you knew was that his tone was as brass and harsh as usual.

“We can take them, of do you really have such little faith towards your company, Thorin?!” You huffed, clearly just as agitated and enraged as the others.

Thorin halted immediately and swiftly turned on his heel to face you, a deep, raging fire of hatred filled his gaze. He groaned in aggravation and drew his sword, ensuring the others quickly followed suit. You deeply exhaled through your nose and you spun yourself around to face the oncoming threat as you unshouldered you bow and raising it higher.

You withdrew an arrow from your quiver, quickly lining your body perpendicular towards the enemy and drawing the arrow back towards your cheek, staring down the length of the arrow. You exhaled as you released your firm grip and so, first blood had been drawn.

_______________

It was nearing the end of the gruelling battle but in truth, it was difficult to tell, exhaustion taking over every single one of the company. It felt as though the enemy just kept coming, multiplying as you take a singular orc down.

Blood coated you and the others, mainly that of orcs and Wargs alike, dried and cracked. As you took down yet another enemy, you heaved out a shaky breath, exhaling heavily with a slight groan.

You looked towards the others, all seemingly fairing well, all grouped together, all except, you guessed it, Thorin. Two orcs atop their Wargs brought the dwarf down on to the hard, filthy ground, defenceless, weapon astray. He crawled backwards, even that looked like such a struggle for him though.

The Wargs snarled and growled as they closed in on the drained dwarf, the orcs straddled upon their fur coated backs grinning wickedly. As quick as a whippet, you powered through your own exhaustion and pain and sprinted towards the predators closing in on their prey.

You released a cry of anger and frustration as you withdrew your elven sword from its place on your back before bringing it down on to the beasts head, emitting a pained whimper before it fell harshly against the floor, body now limp and lifeless.

The orc that once sat atop the dead creature stood from where it landed next to its Wargs’ corpse with a seething anger and charged towards you. You swiftly cut him down and turned your focus to the final orc/Warg duo all the while Thorin looked on with wide eyes and bated breath, watching you with a new found admiration.

Almost as quickly as the last, you had taken down the enemy and collapsed down to your knees, exhaustion washing over you completely. Your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you inhaled and exhaled heavily in repeat.

“Are you…okay lass?” Balin approached you cautiously as the others watched on, concern and their own tiredness evident on their faces. All you could offer in response was a single nod of your head.

Thorin snapped out of his reverie and slowly came to a stand, but before he could proceed to close the gap between the two of you, you raised to your own feet and began to walk away from the group. “We should keep moving. No doubt another pack or two is a day behind them.”

“Yes, Miss Y/N makes a valid argument. Come on.” Gandalf had gruffly agreed with the statement made from over your shoulder. And with that, the company tiredly trudged further along, leaving behind the corpses of their slain foes and the final dwarves’ disdain towards you.

_______________

“We make camp here.” Thorin’s authoritative command travelled throughout the clearing within trees and into the ears of the company. Pained grunts, relieved sighs and heavy knapsacks thudding against the ground were Thorin’s confirmation that he had been heard.

He dragged his feet as he walked over to lazily slump against the bark of a sturdy tree, exhaling heavily through his nose and closing his eyes, basking in the knowledge that he lives to see a new day. His eyes barely reopen as he scans across each and every member of the company. Or at least, nearly every member.

He luckily caught a smidge of your form disappearing past the treeline and his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Surely you were tired? You had to be from all the walking and fighting you’ve done. Why would you head off away from the others?

With a huff of air, he pushed himself from his leaning position against the sturdy trunk and headed off towards the direction you disappeared in. Thorin kept himself quiet as he walked weaved passed trees, his strides small and light footed. He came to a slight clearing which was perfectly illuminated in the moons light, a heavenly glow across the small, vacant area.

And then he spotted you.

Sat precisely in the centre of it all, eyes softly closed, eyelashes resting on your cheek ever so delicately, the light breeze brushing your hair back from your face, a face that, even though is covered by the dried and cracked crimson smears, looked fair and filled with serenity, a calmness that was affect Thorin in many ways.

He had become so entranced that he hadn’t realised that he walked out into the opening further as he stared, stared at someone who he considered the enemy for far too long, at someone who he now admired, at someone who has kindled a newfound feeling deep within him.

“Are you going to keep standing around like some lemon or are you going to join me?” the sudden sound of your voice actually caused the dwarf to jump ever so slightly, taken off guard. You peeked an eye open, finding the situation amusing at a miniscule amount.

Thorin cleared his throat and wiped his hands down his front with a tinge of nervousness before making his way over and lowering himself beside you, arms rested atop his knees. A silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable passed before he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

The simple two-word statement accompanied by his deep, gruff voice caused your eyes to widen slightly and snap your head towards the dwarf to your right. “W-what?”

“I’m sorry. For how I acted before. It wasn’t fair of me to judge you based purely off of who, or rather what, they are. I’m greatly disappointed with myself. Please forgive my ignorance.”

You were flabbergasted. THE Thorin Oakenshield, a prideful and stubborn dwarf, was apologising, hell, even begging, for your forgiveness. Thorin must’ve thought you were trying to imitate that of a fish out of water, your mouth opening and closing multiple times as you searched for the right words to proceed.

You recomposed yourself impossibly fast before flashing the sheepish, nerve wracked dwarf in royal blue and furs a kind, sweet, small smile. “It is okay, Master dwarf. It isn’t as if you had no base reason for your hatred towards my kind. Hopefully, like the rest of the company, we may put our bad blood behind us and move forward working together.”

Thorins’ sigh of relief was large and fairly loud, causing for a small giggle to pass your lips. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he flashed you the smallest, microscopic of smiles. “I’m glad. Oh, and thank you. For saving me.”

You gazed at him with such a soft and gentle expression that he was certain he could have melted at the sight. “Your most certainly welcome.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his hair covered cheek before ever so gently laying your head atop his broad shoulder. His whole body tensed at the actions before slowly unwinding, leaving him red in the face and bashfully playing with his fingers.

A peaceful, comforting silence quickly engulfed you two as you sat side by side, his arm now loosely wrapped around your waist, basking in the beautiful surrounding area. You weren’t sure how long you two had sat within each other’s embrace, but you weren’t one to rush a nice thing when it presented itself, so you continued in your contented bliss with a dwarf you had grown quite fond of. Fond of indeed.

_______________

AAYYYYOOOO IS THIS AN UPLOAD??!

That’s right ya dang bunch of cutie pies, I ain’t dead

My uploading is still extremely slow but I thought, since I’m close to being on top with my college work, I would finally finish this fic

It’s weird and probably makes no sense but it’s the best I can do with the amount of stress I’m enduring ‘cause of college so bare with me peeps

Anywho, I hope you enjoy reading this

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years

Text

the hobbit: “blackout” ₊˚ ⸝ thorin x reader

❝fuck your curfew, let's just kiss more 'til we see the lights over the city. if i gotta go soon, will you miss me?❞

gif 1 credit: n/a gif 2 credit: mine song: jessie reyez, bea miller - feels like home

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: thorin oakenshield x modern reader

warnings: language

summary: after thorin oakenshield drops into the modern world, he’s taken in by you.

It’s been nearly two weeks since you let this stranger, Thorin Oakenshield, stay in your home. He rambled on about where he came from, how he ended up in your world, and how he was a Dwarf king. At first, you were sure that he was insane. But he seemed sincere, and surely did not look like he belonged to your world, so you had to give him a chance. Thorin wasn’t quick to adapting to the modern world and its technologies, but he slowly got used to it. You taught him what was appropriate and what was not, how to dress, etc. Every day, you noticed how homesick he was and had to somehow get his mind off ‘Middle Earth’. You taught him how to play the guitar, table tennis, and took him around exploring in the hiking paths and forests by your home. Although today you were forced to stay indoors. It was raining, which wasn’t an issue at first, until lightning flashed in the sky and started to thunder.

You were currently seated on the couch with Thorin on the floor between your legs, facing the TV. You combed your hands through his hair, giving his scalp a massage while tying his hair up into a man bun and leaving his small braids out to frame his face.

“How old are you?” you purred, noticing the grey streaks in Thorin’s long hair.

“One-hundred-ninety-five. Why?” Your eyes widened.

“Oh my gosh, no way. You’re joking me!”

He scoffed. “No, I am not joking you, Y/N. Why is that such a shock?”

“People here barely ever make it past eighty,” you explain, referring to your world. “And you look good for an older dude.”

Thorin flushed at the compliment, but furrowed his eyebrows at the unfamiliar word. “Dude?”

“Oh, right. My ba-- Sorry. I’ll try not to use modern language around you. Dude means man.”

“You might as well. It looks like I won’t be leaving your modern world any time soon,” Thorin sighed, sadness in his voice. You frowned, remembering he needed to get home eventually, but had no idea how. He told you that his wizard friend, Gandalf, was playing with magic and somehow transported him to your time. You figured that maybe Gandalf would find a way to bring him back, but you started to lose hope after a week of waiting.

“Hey, you’ll make it back,” you said comfortingly. “If you were important in Middle Earth, I don’t think they would give up on you so easily.” Thorin doesn’t respond. You both just sit in silence, watching the screen. You could tell Thorin wasn’t even paying attention to the show playing. His mind wandered restlessly. Until out of the blue, he spoke up.

“Would you miss me? If I left?”

“What--?” The sharp sound of lightning striking suddenly, followed by all the lights and electronics in your house shutting off interrupted you. “Fuck!”

“Y/N? What happened?”

“Blackout. The storm cut off the electricity,” you stated, getting up from the couch. It was already nighttime, so there were no lights besides the occasional flashes of lightning outside. You searched for your phone blindly, eventually getting ahold of it and turning on the flashlight.

“How long will this last?” Thorin asked.

“For tonight, or until the storm passes.” You left Thorin in the dark room to grab your candle pack from the cabinet. Blackouts didn’t bother you much. You enjoyed listening to the raging storm outside and the blackness of the night.

“Y/N, don’t leave me here!”

“Why? You scared of the dark, My King?” You taunted from the other room, causing Thorin to grumble. You soon returned with lit candles, placing them on the coffee table. You join Thorin on the couch, cuddling up to him while watching the rain pour outside. He’s taken back by the sudden intimacy, but welcomes you into his strong arms. “You’re warm,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into Thorin’s chest. He lets out a rumbling laughter.

“This is lovely..” Thorin whispered, “It has been long since I was at peace. Away from the heavy burdens of the kingdom..”

You hummed. “I used to believe that being royalty was easy. You could just do whatever you wanted because you were rich. It never crossed my mind about how pressuring it could be on that person.”

“I may not be in a familiar world, but I am thankful I met you. It feels nice being cared for and.. not being looked at in fear, for once.” You couldn’t find any words to respond to Thorin, so you just embraced him tighter. You both kept silent again, relaxing into each other’s hold. Moments later, Thorin spoke up. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You never answered my question.”

“Which one?”

“If I somehow, by some miracle, make it back to my world, would you miss me?” You hesitated at the question, before answering,

“Yeah.. I would. I suck at showing it, but I enjoy your company. I love you, and it’s calming to have you here, but I understand that you’ll need to leave.”

“...Y/N? You.. What?”

You process what you had just said, before panicking. “Oh, did I say the last part out loud? I’m sorry, I--” Thorin tilts your chin up to look at him.

“Do you remember what I told you about Dwarven culture and our beliefs?”

“Like how you don’t shave?”

“No-- About our Ones..”

“Yeah, how could I forget?”

Thorin takes in a breath. “I do believe I found mine,” he brought your face closer to him, his hot breath fanning your face. “Maybe I was brought here for a reason, after all.” Thorin gently caresses your face, his azure eyes piercing through yours. After a brief moment of silence, he slowly pulled you to him, softly brushing his lips against yours, unsure whether you’d push him away. When you didn’t, he more confidently kissed you. He gripped your hips tightly but gently, pulling you on to straddle him without breaking the kiss. He pulled away, mumbling “I love you” against your lips before claiming your lips again. Gosh, this felt so right. You felt like you were in heaven with him, and you never wanted this to end.

#thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x modern reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorin oneshot #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

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berjhawn · 3 years

Text

Angel On Fire - Chapter 13 - Jail

Warnings: None really that bad, a little nsfw toward the end but other than that pretty safe

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader ; Thorin Oakenshield X Reader ; Bucky X Reader X Thorin ; Marvel X Reader X Hobbit

(A/N) I live!!!!!!! and i’m here to bring you two new updates!! So enjoy!!

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

Thorin didn’t know what to do now that he was staring down the strung arrow of a blonde elf. He wanted to fight but knew he and his kin were no match for the elves in their foggy state. It was only when he saw (Name)’s (H/C) hair out of the corner of his eye did he lose composure. His eyes snap to her to see that a nearby elf was cradling her in his arms as her head lay gently against his chest.

“What have you done to her?” Thorin asks anger filling his chest and words.

“What is it to you?” The blonde elf asks narrowing his eyes at Thorin.

“She’s a friend. Now, what have you done to her?” Thorin inquires his brow narrowed in anger.

“We found her as she collapsed to the ground in fear.”

“Give her to us, we’ll carry her.” Thorin orders causing the elf to narrow his eyes at him and scoff.

“What help could you give her that we cannot?” The elf scolds annoying Thorin greatly. “She’ll remain in our care until the king decides otherwise.” He adds before turning from Thorin and to the other dwarves as his men start to search them all. As he is given Thorin’s sword he lifts it up and admiring its craftsmanship says, “Echannen i vegil hen vin Gondolin. Magannen nan Gelydh.” (This is an ancient Elvish blade. Forged by my kin.) He pauses his eyes meeting Thorin’s as he adds, “Where did you get this?”

“It was given to me.” Thorin answers honestly but the elf scowls, and points the sword at Thorin.

“Not just a thief, but a liar as well.” He accuses before ordering his kin to take them.

After then blonde sheathes the sword he walks over to where (Name) is being held by another elf and after a brief word he lifts her into his arms to carry himself. Thorin stares at him with anger and jealousy filling his body as the elves begin to lead the dwarves away. As they begin to walk, Bofur turns and whispers to Thorin, “Thorin, where’s Bilbo?” Thorin looks around, but sees no sign of Bilbo.

The dwarves are led through the woods and over a bridge and into the Woodland Realm. After they pass through, the blonde elf pauses before he addresses the guards of the gate. “Holo in ennyn.” (Close the gate.)

The blonde elf turns, sensing something, and looks down the bridge. Seeing nothing after a few seconds, he turns and walks through the gates as they close. The dwarves are led through the raised wooden walkways of the Woodland Realm. The entire place is built out of tree roots in a subterranean cavern. The rest of his kin are taken deeper into the city, to the dungeons he reckons. He unfortunately loses sight of (Name) when he is brought to a familiar face.

Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood, and the elf that turned his back on the suffering of Thorin’s people sits on his throne his eyes focused on Thorin.

“Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.” Thranduil says as he looks closely at Thorin. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule: The King’s Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.”

“I am listening.” Thorin replies cocking an eyebrow at the elf.

“I will let you go, if you but return what is mine.”

Thorin turns and slowly starts walking away.

“A favor for a favor.” Thorin adds scoffing.

“You have my word. One king to another.” Thranduil concludes.

Thorin stops walking. Still facing away from Thranduil, he speaks. His voice gets louder and louder as he speaks. “I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!” Thorin spins around and point at Thranduil. He is now shouting. “You lack all honor! I’ve seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! Imrid amrad ursul!” (Die a death of flames!)

Thranduil leaps down from his throne and puts his face right in front of Thorin’s.

“Do not talk to me of dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the north.” As Thranduil speaks, his face contorts, revealing his face covered with what appears to be burns and scars from his past encounters with dragons. His left eye is milky and unseeing. He draws away, and his face returns to normal. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen.” Thranduil turns and walks up the steps to his throne. “You are just like him.”

Thranduil motions, and guards grab Thorin and haul him toward the dungeons.

“Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

“Wait!” Thorin calls making the guards pause. “What of my companion?”

“Your dwarves will remain in the dungeon along with you.”

“The human woman that was with us. Return her to us.” Thorin orders making Thranduil narrow his eyes at him.

“You are in no position to be giving me orders dwarf.” Thranduil spits.

“What will you do with her?” Thorin inquires trying to keep his composure.

“She will be seen by our healers and then who knows?” Thranduil waves his hand signaling the end of their conversation.

Thorin is dragged down the vast hallways until they reach the dungeon. Then he is thrown into a cell beside the other dwarves, and his jailer walks away with a ring of jangling keys.

“Did he offer you a deal?” Balin inquires from his cell.

“He did. I told him he could go ‘Ish kakhfê ai’d dur rugnu!’ (I spit upon your grave!) - him and all his kin!”

Hearing this, Balin closes his eyes and sighs wearily in frustration. “Well...that’s it, then. A deal was our only hope.”

“Not our only hope.” Thorin adds under his breath thinking about Bilbo.

“What did they say about (Name)?” Bofur asks making Thorin let out a defeated sigh.

“The good news is they are taking her to their healers. Bad news is that is all they would tell me.”

“Don’t worry Lads, the elves may be bastards, but they are some of the best healers. I’m sure she will be fine.” Balin adds making Thorin roll his eyes.

(Name) should be there with him. He pauses a moment as he realizes what he just thought. Thorin reaches up and scratching the back of his neck thinks back to when he had initially heard her screams of panic. He had tried to find her but it was too late as they were all surrounded by spiders. He hoped and prayed that she was okay.

Thorin wouldn’t admit it out loud but he had grown rather fond of her. Moving to the back of his cell he sits down and thinks back on when he met her. She was feisty, from the very moment he they had met she had challenged him. He smiles at the memory. If he survived this, he would tell her how he felt.

His eyes widen at the thought. What exactly did he feel for her? Even if it was more than companionship, he could never tell her. She wanted to return to her home. She didn’t belong here. Thorin’s heart clenches at the idea of never seeing her again; but what was he to do? She had made it quite clear she wanted to return to her world.

Would she change her mind if he told her he had feelings for her? Closing his eyes, he leans his head back against the cool wooden wall and lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Thorin…’ he hears her sweet voice calling his name causing his brow to furrow as he opens his eyes to see that a vision of her has appeared before him.

“(Name)?” He says his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiles as she kneels down in front of him, her hands reaching up to rest on his thighs. Thorin gulps down a breath of air as he, unable to move, watches her. ‘Don’t you have something to say to me?’ she asks as her hands start to drift awfully close to his aching member.

“You’re not real.” He says more to clear his head than to actually reply to her.

‘That’s not what you want to say, is it?’ She adds lust thick on her voice.

“You’re not her. I’ll tell her when I’m ready.” Thorin adds folding his arms over his chest.

‘What if you’re never ready?’ She inquires her fingers grazing over the ties on his trousers. ‘What if she doesn’t want to hear it?’

“Stop.” He orders narrowing his eyes at her as he gulps down a breath of air.

‘Stop what?’ She asks her eyes narrowing at him as she moves from her spot between his legs to straddle his waist. She reaches up gently cupping his face continues, ‘You said it yourself, I’m not real. I’m just a figment of your imagination. What I do, is what you want her to do.’

“That’s not the point.” Thorin growls reaching up to grab the vision’s hands and pull them away from his face but his hands go straight through her. “Get off.”

‘You should tell her sooner rather than later, or by the time you gather your nerve, it will be too late.’ And with that she vanishes leaving Thorin feeling irritated and little embarrassed.

Will continue

Tags:

@elysasthings @gaenahelleborus

#berjhawn #berjhawn writes #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #marvel x reader x hobbit #hobbit x reader x marvel #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #the hobbit #hobbit fanfiction #thorin x reader #thorin x readerx bucky #bucky x reader x thorin #hobbit au

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cassiabaggins · 4 years

Text

An Extra Burglar Chapter Six: Orc Chase and In A Hole

A/N: so I actually finished this! Take that all day headache! Ha-hah! The headache is still here but so is this chapter, so that makes it all better. If you enjoy this, please drop a review and/or reblog if you can! Thanks for reading!

Warnings: canon typical violence, language

Rating: T

First ... Previous .... Next

Masterlist!!!

Taglist: @legolaslovely @bluebellcotton @strictlynofrills @floralfi

“You're dead!” Cassia yells, lunging forward. Fili dodges her with ease and knocks his knife into hers. “None can stand before me!”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, lass,” he teases as she whirls around to block a blow.

“Oh, I won’t!” She replies with a quick swipe. “I’m going to beat you!”

“Bold words,” he shoots back. She attacks again, pressing forward with abandon that actually has him on the retreat, but he parries with ease.

“Your footwork needs attention,” he says, coming to a halt and stopping the blade of her dagger with his.

“It’s good enough, I think,” she retorts, shoving back at him.

“Are you attempting to overpower me?” Fili asks incredulously. He barely moves despite her throwing all her weight against him.

Cassia smirks, then falls to the side. The dwarf stumbles forward in surprise and she whirls, sticking one leg out and tripping him neatly, following the move up with a blow to the shoulder.

Fili lands on his face with a groan that has the other company members roaring with laughter. Cassia plants her foot between his shoulder blades and leans over to grin in his face.

“I have defeated you!” She crows, her blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“She most certainly has!” Dwalin laughs as Fili grumbles, “come now, Fili, you wouldn't be a sore loser, would you?”

Fili shakes his head. “I would be nothing of the sort, Master Dwalin. Congratulations, Cassia, you have bested me. Truly none can stand before you.”

Cassia straightens up and waves her weapon at the dwarves around her. “You hear that, you rabble? You are but chaff before my blade!”

With her foot still planted on Fili's back, she's already in the perfect position and due to her posturing she doesn't notice him get his arms underneath himself until he pushes up sharply. Cassia lets out a surprised yelp and tumbles back, allowing Fili to grab her by the ankle and tug her down onto the ground and between his arms.

“What was that you were saying about besting me?” he smirks down at her, straddling her hips to hold her down, holding her wrists in his hands.

"No fair!" She cries, wriggling around. "I had already won!"

"I never said I yielded though."

"Yes you did! You said I won!"

"But I never said I yielded."

"What?! That's not in the rules! Someone tell him that's not in the rules!"

"The terms of the fight were whoever yielded first," Kili says, grinning. "And he technically didn't yield."

Cassia gasps indignantly. "Kili! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Hey, I'm just telling it like it is!"

"Ooh," she huffs, "damn you, you insufferable dwarf!"

"Now there's no need for name calling," Fili laughs. "Kili's just holding up the rules we agreed on."

"Oh, you're just as awful! Bilbo!"

Her brother has no sympathy. "It's none of my business," he says.

Fili, of course, is having the time of his life, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter, when she turns her head back to glare at him, not letting her up even as she wiggles harder and even tries to kick him. He tuts at that.

“Uh-uh. None of that. Admit you've lost, lass.”

“Will you let me up?”

“Once you yield.”

Cassia bares her teeth at him. “No! Curse you!” She yells, before breaking off into some Khuzdul swears she's picked up.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I'll kiss your face with my fist! That was a cheap trick!”

“All's fair in love and war, you know.”

“Aye, it is, isn't it.” Cassia says slowly, a sly look creeping over her face.

“What are you planning?” Fili says.

Instead of replying, the Hobbit lass surges forward and presses a quick kiss against his lips. He jerks back, surprised, his ears turning a brilliant shade of red, and Cassia cackles in triumph, scrambling to her feet and darting away into the trees.

“I'll never yield to you, Fili!” she calls behind her for good measure.

Fili stares after her, deaf to the laughter of the dwarves around him, his fingertips against his lips.

“Mahal’s beard, she'll be the death of me,” he murmurs.

Cassia continues her headlong sprint into the woods, stopping against a large tree and dropping down to bury her face in her knees. Why in the world did she do that?! Why would she kiss him?! What was she thinking?! She DOES NOT have feelings for him. None at all. She kissed him to beat him. That’s it. Not because he has very kissable lips. Which is, of course, an objective fact and does not at all mean she might have a teeny-tiny crush on him.

There’s a noise behind her, probably Kili coming to make fun of her.

“Go away, Kili,” she grumbles. “I really don’t want you to tease me right now.”

Whoever has approached her snarls in a way that makes it clear that is not Kili, nor is it any of her friends. She leaps to her feet and whirls around. Advancing towards her is, well, it must be a warg and it’s rider. She’s never seen a warg before and she’s definitely never seen an orc, but she can’t imagine the two beasts approaching her being anything else. She has no chance to fight them off, so she does what she can.

"FILI!" She screams, praying and hoping that he's in earshot and that Bilbo was right about him always coming to rescue her. "FILI!!! HELP ME!!!"

Two things happen at once: the warg leaps and Cassia is knocked to the ground by a blond and brown blur. When she gets her bearings, Fili is standing between her and the enemy, his left arm and sword in the warg's mouth, his right parrying a blow from the rider. Black and red blood pours down his side. "Run," he says.

"Fili—!"

"Go!"

She runs. She doesn't have to go far before she meets Kili, Thorin, and the others coming her way. They must have heard her scream.

"What happened?" Thorin asks, catching her as she runs into him.

"Orc," she gasps, "Fili– he's gonna—" she doesn't have time to finish before the dwarf practically shoves her towards Bilbo and takes off at a dead sprint.

"Are you hurt?" Her brother asks, taking her face in his hands.

"No," she says. "I'm not. But Fili—."

"He'll be fine, Cassia."

"No, Bilbo, he won't, it got him!"

"Cassia," her brother says, "take a breath. He's fine. He's a skilled warrior. You know this. He'll be fine."

Cassia doesn't reply, just yanks herself free of her brother and runs after the others.

Fili has the orc in a stranglehold, the warg laying slain at his feet. The expression on his face is miles away from the gentle, kind one she is used to. As she watches, he snaps the orcs neck and drops the corpse to the ground.

"Fili!" Cassia gasps, and instantly the vicious look fades from his face. She shoves past the others and runs to him, ignoring the protests from the others. "Are you hurt? Oh, what a silly question, look at your arm!" She reaches out like she's going to touch him, but stops just before her fingers brush him.

"I think I'll live," he says. "It's only broken."

“You’re bleeding!” She half-shrieks, feeling a catch in her throat. She sniffles. "Oh, Fili…"

“Please don’t cry,” He says, taking his hand off his wound and reaching for her. Cassia recoils, not because she’s afraid of the blood, but because he’s worried about her while he’s bleeding so terribly and in such awful pain, and she instantly regrets it, because Fili seems to immediately get the wrong idea, hurt flashing over his features.

She has no time to explain, quickly shunted out of the way, then, by Kili and Thorin and Oin, and has to watch off to the side as he's tended to.

Bilbo hands her a handkerchief. “See? He’s fine.”

Cassia nods shakily, taking it and wringing it in her hands

Thorin scolds him in a flurry of worried Khuzdul and Fili replies quietly in the same tongue, wincing as Kili helps him out of his jacket. “Ow! Be careful!”

“Sorry.”

“Well,” Oin says in Westron, “the bone is definitely broken, and badly, but he won’t lose the arm.”

“How come?” Thorin asks with a relieved sigh.

The medic holds up a long dagger. “Because of this. It blocked the bite. You were lucky, lad.”

“Told you there was a reason to bring them all,” Fili says.

His uncle sighs and ruffles his hair. “I’ll give you this one.” He steps away and turns to Cassia.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It came out of nowhere.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“This is all my fault,” she says, “For real this time. Oh, I’m so sorry! I never intended-”

Thorin holds up his hand to stop her. “Lass, don’t do that. It was not your fault.”

“But-”

“Don’t.”

Fili lets out a pained cry and Thorin immediately whirls back to his nephew. Oin has just set the bone and is splinting it with some sticks Ori brought over. The leader of the Company leaves Cassia to be comforted by Bilbo and hurries over to Fili, not quite hovering, but doing the next closest thing. Kili is holding Fili’s good hand, muttering lowly in Khuzdul, maybe comforting, maybe scolding, maybe both, Cassia doesn’t know.

“Are you going to be all right?” Bilbo asks, pulling her attention away from the little family. She sniffles again.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Why are you blaming yourself for this?”

“Because it’s my fault!”

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Did you pick up a sword and chop his arm half off?”

“N-no?”

“And did you take said arm and bash it with a club and break it?”

“What?! No, of course not, I would never-”

“Then it’s not your fault.”

“But he got hurt taking care of me!”

“Did you force him to?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not your fault. Good grief.”

“But why would he-”

“You two are friends, aren’t you? He did it because he cares about you. And you do stupid, reckless things for the people you love and care about.”

“Wait, ‘loves’?”

“Don’t you love your friends?”

“I… yes.”

Bilbo makes a ‘you see what I mean?’ gesture and pats her hand.

Cassia, of course, knows that Fili cares about her, but she never fathomed the idea of him loving her, friends or not. Because the truth of the matter is, she loves him, too, he’s a dear friend that her life would be much emptier without, but like an idiot, she never supposed those feelings would go both ways. Cassia lets out a long breath and ties a knot in Bilbo’s handkerchief as she thinks over this new revelation. Just beyond her, she can hear Thorin in a low-voiced argument with Gandalf.

“If anything, this is all the more reason to head to Rivendell,” the wizard is saying, “Lord Elrond is an accomplished healer, he can-”

“No,” Thorin interrupts, “out of the question.”

“Your nephew is badly injured,” Gandalf snaps, “do you want him to die?”

“He is strong. He won’t die. I’m not leading my Company into Rivendell to face the treachery of the elves. Not even if they were the only ones who could save us.”

The wizard throws up his hands. “Eru save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!”

Thorin scoffs and turns away from the wizard, when suddenly there comes a great shouting from further in the woods and everyone immediately leaps into battle positions.

Someone, maybe Bofur, grabs Cassia and Bilbo and shoves them into the center of the circle of dwarves. She finds her back pressed up against Fili’s chest, and he lets out pained hiss as she accidentally jostles his broken arm. She doesn’t have time to apologize before he’s shoving her behind him and someone comes bursting out of the forest riding some sort of sleigh, screaming, “THIEVES!!! FIRE!!! MURDER!!!”

Gandalf sighs. “It's Radagast. Radagast the Brown.”

“Who?” Thorin asks, not giving the order to stand down as the person, who appears to be an elderly man in brown robes, draws his sleigh up mere inches from the lot of them.

“A colleague of mine,” The Grey Wizard says, “The Brown Wizard. He takes care of the woods around here. You have nothing to worry about with him. He’s mostly harmless.”

Thorin gives the order for them to stand down. Gandalf starts up a conversation with his fellow wizard as Thorin helps Dwalin and Bifur to dispose of the dead orc and warg Fili killed while the rest of them return to their camp to pack up. Cassia tries to speak to Fili, but he appears to be avoiding her and she doesn’t have a chance to. She even offers to help Kili help him pack up his things, but the dark haired brother waves her away. She finds herself shoving her blanket into her pack with quick, frustrated movements when from frighteningly close, there comes a howl, like a wolf. Cassia stiffens.

“Is that a wolf?” Bilbo asks, in a tone that makes it clear he doesn’t think it is.

“Wolves?” Bofur says, “no that is not a wolf.”

“What is it?” Cassia asks. “Wargs,” Fili says, drawing his sword and stepping into the role of leader in the absence of his uncle. “Ori, get the ponies.”

“I can’t,” the other dwarf says, “They’ve bolted.”

Thorin, Dwalin, Bifur, and the two wizards burst into their campsite just then.

“Who did you tell about your quest?” Gandalf asks Thorin.

“No one!”

“Who did you tell?!”

“No one, I swear!” Thorin says again. “What in Durin's name is going on?”

“You are being hunted!” Gandalf says. Cassia and Bilbo look at each other.

“We have to get out of here,” Dwalin says. “What of the ponies?”

“They bolted,” Fili replies. “And we’ve no chance on foot. Uncle, what do we do?”

“Not usually,” Radagast says, addressing the others for the first time.

“Sorry?” Fili asks.

“You’d have no chance on foot usually,” The wizard tells him. “But if I draw them away…”

“These are Gundabad Orcs,” Gandalf says, “They’ll run you down in no time flat.”

Radagast grins, and Cassia gets the sense that he’s not quite sane. “And these are Rhosgobel Rabbits. I’d like to see them try.”

“Come and get me!!!” Radagast shouts, taking off on his sleigh. Cassia glances at Bilbo.

“I think he's a little bit crazy, that one,” she whispers.

He nods in agreement. “More than a little bit, I should think.”

“Come on!” Gandalf says, and starts running, the Company in single file behind him.

In the distance, the brown wizard leads the orcs in a merry chase, but he doesn't seem to know where the Company is going, leading them running not far from them. “Stay together,” Gandalf hisses as the Company backpedals.

Bilbo pulls Cassia back to keep her from running out into the open and Thorin stops Ori. They pause briefly, then the grey wizard hurries them on again.

“Where are you leading us?” She hears Thorin ask Gandalf. The latter does not reply.

They duck behind another large boulder, gathered together in a group. Above them comes the deep growling of a searching orc. Cassia's heart is pounding hard in her ears, so loudly she thinks perhaps the orc can hear it. She holds her breath. Her brother squeezes her hand reassuringly and she looks over at him. He seems just as alarmed at her, and for some reason she takes comfort in the fact that she isn’t the only one afraid

Cassia nods, and breaths out. Kili shifts beside her and she turns to spy him carefully, stealthily pulling an arrow from his quiver, and her heart is in her throat again.

Kili moves like lightning, dashing out into the open and losing the arrow practically in one breath.

The warg squeals like a stuck pig, falling and tossing it's rider. The dwarves leap into action, but it's just a bit too late, it's cries echoing over the plains. Warg howls are orcish shouts sound out, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

“Move!” Gandalf cried, “RUN!”

“There they are!” Gloin shouts as the Company crests a hill.

“This way!” Gandalf hollers, “quickly!” He leads them kitty-corner from the approaching enemies. But the orcs are approaching from that direction, too.

“There's more coming!” Kili shouts.

“Kili!” Thorin roars, “shoot them!”

"We're surrounded!" Fili yells. He’s beside Cassia, using his sword with his good arm. She unties her sling from her waist and grabs a stone from the ground. She doesn't know how breakable orc skulls are, but hopes this will do something.

“Where’s Gandalf?” someone cries, for the wizard seems to have vanished.

“He’s abandoned us!” Someone else shouts.

Cassia hits two orcs, but it really doesn't seem to do much beside sting.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin shouts. Things are going to get real bad. And then,

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf says, popping up from behind some rocks.

"Fili!" Thorin shouts, "take the Halflings! Get them out of here!"

"But—!" He blurts, clearly wanting to stay and help fight.

"Do as I say!" Thorin snaps, in a tone that brooks no argument.

Fili turns towards Cassia and Bilbo, who are already running towards Gandalf, and follows after them, his hand on the back of her shoulder. The wizard slides down into a hole in the rocks and the three follow after him with varying degrees of gracelessness. Behind Cassia, Fili lands with a thud and lets out a noise that's somewhere between a yelp and a groan and she whirls around to see him roll slowly over onto his back, clutching his bad arm. He must have landed on it. “Fili!” She gasps, moving toward him, but is prevented by the rest of the Company tumbling down into the hole in disarray. There doesn't seem to be anything stopping the orcs from following, though, and Cassia can't help but wonder what good hiding down here has done, besides trap them, when there comes the clear, brazen call of a hunting horn. It's not orcish. Not at all. Above them comes the sounds of battle and screaming, squealing orcs. An orc comes tumbling down the hole and they all leap back, Bilbo pushing Cassia behind him, his arm across her chest, but it's already dead. Thorin bends, tearing out an arrowhead in the thing’s throat.

“Elves,” he says, like it's a dirty word, tossing it down.

Despite his reaction, Cassia can't help but relax, letting out a little sigh. Gandalf gives Thorin a disappointed look.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads!” Dwalin shouts. He had scouted ahead a bit down the crevice. “Do we follow it or no?”

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur replies, hurrying after him. Thorin nods.

“Follow the passageway,” he instructs, and they take off. It’s tight and winding through the mountains, almost claustrophobic in places for the larger dwarves, but no one gets stuck. Eventually, they emerge from the narrow stone passage out onto a narrow ledge. Cassia pushes around Kili to see what everyone is gaping at. There before them is a great sprawling valley and she knows instantly where they are. She’s seen illustrations in her brother’s books. The last Homely House east of the Sea.

“Rivendell,” Bilbo breathes with shining eyes.

#fili #fili x oc #fili friday #cassia #cassia baggins #fili x cassia #bilbo baggins #kili #thorin oakenshield #my writing #an extra burglar

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noplanwithavan · 7 years

Text

A VERY LONG WAY HOME

In the last month we have covered a gruelling 3,000km, reaching the northern extreme of our yearʼs adventure, before turning tail towards home. By August we have made our way through 25 countries, finally coming full circle. Itʼs a journey that has spanned glaciers, mountains, fjords, and volcanoes. From the desert heat of Morrocco to the midnight sun of the Artic Circle.

One thing I always wondered about this trip was what it would be like when our return date became imminent. Should we come back at all? And If we did, would we revert immediately into the same patterns? Or will the experiences prove to have changed us in some fundamental way?

Weʼve still got TWO WEEKS left (gulp!), so I canʼt be sure yet. But I think the signs indicate we are not the same as a family. For one thing Iʼve realised there is not just one way to live your life. There are many and varied possibilities. And living an itinerant existence in a camper van happens to be one of them - a perfectly sustainable one at that. Financially, thereʼs no pressing need to come home. We could afford to keep going. By renting out our house and holiday cottage in Tenby, it more than covers our expenditure. We actually spend LESS by not working. That may sound bizarre, but itʼs true. We spend less because we consume less. Marcus has become the watch guard for anti-consumerist, keeping a steely eye for any signs of weakness on our part.

Even in a country like Norway, which EVERYONE will tell you is “super expensive”, itʼs not impossible to live cheaply, if you have time and a bit of creativity. Supermarket prices are probably three times that of the UK, but in this vast wilderness there is plenty to be had for free. You donʼt need a license to fish in the fjords, and in the north especially, the fish are easy prey.

Shortly after crossing the imaginary line of the Artic Circle, we entered Norway from Northern Sweden. Immediately the landscape ramped up. Gone were the flat forests of fir scored with lakes. In their place were towering mountains with spidery waterfalls spilling straight from the heavens. Trying to outrun the rain, we pushed on to Bodø, to catch a ferry to the legendary Lofoten Islands. Weʼd heard tales of their majestic beauty, and a friendly Norwegian family we met on board the 4 hour crossing helped set the scene. At over 2m tall with long flowing flaxen locks, their eldest son looked exactly like a Viking, and regaled the girls with tales of trolls, notably, “Espen and the Ashes”. His appearance set the stage perfectly, for nowhere on earth could I imagine more Viking-worthy than that first sighting of the Lofoten Islands as they hove into view. A long string of razor sharp peaks spanning across the horizon like the scale-spiked spines of a gigantic sea monster. I have navigated the girls through Roman, Greek and now Norse mythology. And Lofoten struck me as uniquely mythical - the physical embodiment of the Midguard Serpeant, coiling itself around the Earth.

In three weeks of travelling we have seen no part of Norway which is not indescribably beautiful. Every road is a scenic smorgasbord. Every angle, every viewpoint, just breathtaking in its scale and raw, naked beauty. But even against all this, the Lofoten Islands loom large in a league of their own. They make you feel invincible somehow. A heady combination of 24 hour summer sunlight mingled with prehistoric mountains rising vertically from the sea. When the sun is shining you can hike day or night. Itʼs not unusual to spot midnight walkers, scrambling up the snaggle-toothed peaks for a view of the world spread-eagled before them. One morning I wake restless at 5.30 am, and slip out of the van to climb Reinebringen. A tough, vertical scramble, but one which rewards you with a picture-postcard view from the summit, and the sight of a sea eagle circling below.

There are harbours sheltering beneath the bulk of these impressive cliffs, flecked with grass-roofed red rorbeurs (fishermanʼs cabins standing on stilts) and giant wooden A-frames. Closer inspection revealed the purpose of these industrial-sized drying racks. For the waters around here are known for both their treachery and their abundance of cod, who come in droves to lay their eggs during the winter. The writer Jules Verne spawned the idea for his book, “Journey to the Centre of the Earth” after witnessing the maelstrom (whirlpool) off the coast of the Lofoten Isles. And long before the discovery of North Sea Oil, Norwayʼs liquid gold came from the cod liver oil harvested from these shores. We visited a quaint little fishing town called Å, where all the buildings have been turned into a museum. Peering at traditional boats, nets and glass buoys, and reeling back in horror at the stink from barrels of fermenting cod liver. One hundred years ago, black and white picture frames record a horizon packed tight with fishing boats. The flotilla then would land 70,000 cod. Now the catch is much smaller, but still large enough for every town to dry hundreds of fish on giant racks in the traditional way. At this time of year only the staring eyes and papery heads remain. Someone told us the stockfish gets shipped to Spain and Portugal as salted cod, or bacalao. The lower-value end is destined for Nigeria, as a delicacy for soups.

There are no roads crossing the sprawling islands. Instead cars skirt the edges, looping and lacing from one land mass to the next. At times this network is so narrow it becomes a series of stepping stones, made possible only by tunnels which take you below sea level. We hammered home those Norse stories by visiting a Viking museum in Vestagoy, and reach our most northerly point at Unstad, where Marcus layers up with whatever he can find to surf the Artic. He has neither wetsuit hood nor gloves, but stays in much longer than we expect, emerging only somewhat pinked to declare the water is no colder than winter back home in Pembrokeshire.

One day we hike over a mountain to the remote Kvalvika beach. Another walker tells us two friends made a documentary here, “North of the Sun”, about their experiences living for an entire winter on their own. As we straddle the pass the drop below reveals a beach encircled with cliffs shrouded in mist. The clouds act like a curtain call, hanging low, setting the scene, nature at its most dramatic. We spot a little hobbit house and long drop loo on the beach, remnants from the film; a story of human survival. For the first time we wish we could ditch the van, and go off for longer on foot. Norway and Sweden both have a policy of the individual having a “right to camp”. For this reason, itʼs normal to see a tent pitched pretty much anywhere - by a fjord, on a beach, even atop a mountain. Iʼm suddenly aware weʼre just not properly kitted out for this environment. We have “the worldʼs worst shoes” for one thing. A paltry hotchpotch of non-waterproof specimens. And no wet weather gear, aside from one pair of kids fishermanʼs trousers we picked up in a charity shop which are 2 inches too short. At €34 for a round of coffee and cakes, Norway isnʼt the country for a spending spree to get “kitted out”. Instead we brave the rainy days and scale back our ambitions. Crossing back to the mainland, and winding our way South, we stop at Svartisen glacier, bathing in the ice cold milky waters beneath. Itʼs a boat crossing plus a 2 hour walk to reach the glacier, and itʼs hard to get a sense of scale until youʼre up close. But the sight of those spearmint blue crevices get the girls declaring it was well worth it. “Like Elsaʼs Palace up close,” Elsie muses. Norway has notched up our ferry total to 19. The whole coastline is like a gigantic lung, fed by a fine weave of arteries - the fjords stretching impossibly far inland. The only way to navigate them at points is to take a ferry hop across. The main road, the E6, is said to be the longest in Europe and though the drives here are long they are never boring. It takes you past thundering rivers and sweeping fjords, over steep mountain passes where islands of snow meet lakes. Their white lips curled up distastefully by the waterʼs edge, in defiance of fate. Itʼs so utterly uncompromising in all it offers, our only difficultly proves finding somewhere off the main road to camp - suitably “off the beaten track” so to speak. There are the scenic highlights - the world-famous Geiranger Fjord, where giant cruise ships sit dwarfed alongside the multi-storey cliffs above. The fairytale wooden stave church in Lom, itʼs Viking iconograpghy from the very dawn of Northern Christianity. The “Troll Road” - a series of 11 hairpin bends taking you past architectural buildings every bit as breathtaking as the scenery. In between all this, our days are spent fishing, canoeing and cooking. Elsie and Lulu have become hooked on old episodes of Ray Mears given to us by the friend we stayed with in Bulgaria, Cen Rees. The slow-paced TV series about Bushcraft inspires us all to hone our outdoor skills. Marcus becomes a dab hand with line fishing, striking out and catching us mackerel, cod and pollock each night. Itʼs been several months since weʼve been able to cook off our stove in the van. North of Greece, the gas canisters we needed became first sparse, then disappeared altogether. Our outdoor COBB BBQ has become our salvation. One day I channel my inner Ray and idly speculate whether itʼs high time I became accustomed with this bit of kit, rather than sitting back and waiting for Marcus to sort it out. Drawing Lulu aside, I announce that “Mummy is doing supper tonight,” followed by a plaintive, “Do you want to help?” She readily agrees, and to my delight, coaches me through the entire process. “Not like that, donʼt put the charcoal on yet....errm, actually birch bark makes better tinder than paper..etc” I decide we need shelter and begin grappling with our awning for the first time in 11 months. It wonʼt unfold properly, what the hell? “I think it pulls out like this,” Lulu gaily exclaims, manipulating it effortlessly beneath me. “How do you know all this stuff?” I ask her. With no hint of guile, she replies, “I just watch Daddy.” My culinary efforts are not great. The result is a strange burnt tasting tomatoey egg soup, which is unanimously rejected and immediately earns a place in the family folklore of terrible meals. Still, itʼs a start, and, as Ray will tell you, the secret of good bushcraft is not giving up. After weʼve poached, fried, curried and smoked as much fish as we can, we put the BBQ to further use, experimenting with making waffles and donuts, supplemented with wild raspberries and strawberries. Marcus tries out advanced fire-lighting skills with mixed success. He fails to master the wood- friction bow method demonstrated with ease by Mr Mears. But his home-made WOOD GAS STOVE, using two tin cans and a fan is a roaring success. Powered purely by pine cones which the girls scramble to collect, we have the quickest cup of tea for months. In Jotunheim National Park despite having no crampons, outdoor trousers or proper walking boots, Marcus leaves us behind and attempts an ascent on the 2,500 metre high Galdhøpiggen, Norwayʼs highest mountain. He manages just, but it proves somewhat of a challenge. Five hundred metres from the summit he is walking knee-deep in snow wearing shorts and water-logged boots. People openly stop to laugh and point. One shouts, “Ah, true Viking style!” By night we befriend a lovely Belgian family with two teenage sons. Weʼre pretty smooth operators on making auspicious acquaintances now. After spying them struggling to keep their fire going with wet wood, we send Elsie out to offer them a fan and some assistance. A few hours later, the kids are eating marshmallows and weʼre sipping on Belgian beer (which tastes a lot better than the stash of Polish beer we stockpiled before coming into Scandinavia). For the next few days we become travelling companions, stopping off to fish and camp together, navigating down from Kaupanger to Gudvangen on the most intimate, up-close of Norwayʼs fjords, the UNESCO-listed Naeroyfjord. Saying goodbye to the Belgians, we make our way through the eerie boulder strewn mountain pass between Aurland and Laerdal, headed for Gol. Weʼve graduated from dropping in on long lost friends, to targeting friends of friends. Via Facebook Chris Urack puts us in touch with his Norwegian pal Thomas, who very kindly offers us the chance to stay in his mountain cabin. It turns out to be one of those romantic looking tar-stained log cabins, complete with itʼs own sauna. The type weʼd spent weeks gazing upon longingly. They sit squat in the valleys, blending in curtesy of their living, growing, grass rooves. Iʼm amazed and humbled by Thomas and his wife Monaʼs hospitality. Marcus and I joke that itʼs like WWOOFING but without having to do any work. “Weʼve morphed into CHOOFING,” I say. “Chatting on organic farms.” We left Norway behind a week ago and have spent the best part of that on the road, plummeting down through Sweden and across the bridge to Denmark, sighting the flat island of Salthomen and scores of wind farms far out to sea. Copenhagen is a welcome distraction, and for two days we stroll the canals, snack on Danish pastries and visit museums. The girls enjoy exploring “Christiannia” best - a kind of freetown autonomous commune pressed right up against prime real estate. Itʼs a bizarre enclave, of colourful DIY houses where cars are banned and we can zip about on bikes. But the sight of the notorious “Pusher Street”, where cannabis is sold openly in every strain, variety and conceivable form, casts a seedier shadow which we steer them away from. Throughout Denmark and Germany the girls endure long days driving, devising their own playlists on iTunes for us to listen to. Elsieʼs favourite trick is to try and sneak in a rogue track by U2 to really piss Marcus off. We meet a friendly German family in the Rhine Valley where we stop to cycle, sample Bratwurst, sauerkraut and schnitzel. The girls are so desperate for playmates they tend to hurl themselves at other kids, bombarding and climbing all over them. But as we enter back into the familiar territory of France I canʼt help thinking things are different to how they were a year ago. Travel has lit the touch paper on our sense of adventure. Itʼs inspired us to get properly prepared for all weather when we make it back to Wales, and strike out more often into the wilderness. Iʼve learned it is where we are happiest as a family. Iʼve also learned to listen and understand my children better. Just as an experiment, we showed Elsie and Lulu both a Bear Grylls programme on YouTube, letting them see his different approach to survival - all fast-paced fury and revolting edible experiences. Their reactions were polar opposites. We have one die-hard Ray Mears fan, and one would-be Bear Grylls. And thatʼs ok, more than anything since last September Iʼve learned to see these differences and embrace them.

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theepolynesian · 7 years

Text

Annoying Dwarf

Imagine Nori stealing a drawing of you and trying to find out why

Master Lists: Drabbles/Imagines, and Completed Series

a/n: I did a random generator thing and I got nori so here you are loves.

You huff as you watch the starfish haired dwarf walk around camp. The first time you had met was when you were on your way to Bilbo’s. You had bumped into him and you were pretty sure it was purposely since he managed to knick your pouch of money which is how you were roped into this journey. Bilbo didn’t want to go without you.

You wondered if he was even a Took sometimes. You sometimes think that your Aunt Bella chose the wrong family to marry into. Sometimes.

“You’re glaring again,” your cousin says and you bring your attention away from the thief to the hobbit sitting next to dwalin who was sitting next to you. “I do not glare,” you deny. “Yeah, you just stare at someone angrily,” Fili states as he walks by. That earns a little smile from you.

“I wouldn’t be angrily staring at him if he hadn’t stolen my pouch,” you say, moving over as you realize Fili meant to sit next to you. That causes Dwalin to shuffle to the right as well.

“You’re still mad about that are you?” He asks, handing you a bowl,“that was over a month ago.”

“I wouldn’t still be angry if he just stole my pouch. Oh no. I’m not that petty and I would’ve just let him off right there but he stole my underthings, my hair brush, my entire wardrobe while I was showering, my mothers necklace which is a family heirloom-,”

“Talking about me are we love? I feel honored,” Nori asks interrupting your monologue.

“You shouldn’t, weasel,” you shoot back. He has the gall to look offended. “I am no weasel, milady. I am an honorable dwarf-,”

“With sticky fingers-,” Dwalin mumbles, sharpening his ax. You hadn’t bothered to ask if it was safe for him to be sitting so close to you while doing so. You didn’t want to offend him.

“Who has never,” Nori continues, ignoring the interruption,“stolen a thing in my life.”

“Oh cut the crap Nori. You have a bag full of things that aren’t yours that you somehow nicked,” Gloin states from somewhere and that makes you narrow your eyes.

“Are there things of mine that you haven’t returned?” You ask him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, slowly inching toward something. Your eyes flicker towards a bag that’s five feet away from the both of you. He catches your eye and suddenly the both of you are lunging towards the bag. You reach their first and you look behind you to find out why. Gloin is holding the back of his shirt and you smile at him in thanks.

You take a seat back down between Dwalin and Fili and open up the bag. “Lets see what we have here, shall we?”

You pull out a cup first followed by a few other kitchen items. The next item you bring up makes your skin prick.

“Why is there a drawing of me?” You ask Nori as he shrugs out of Gloin’s grip. He comes over to you and takes the drawing and shoves it back in the bag and takes the bag away from you, moving back to his bed roll.

“Nori,” you start. “The contents of my bag are none of your business so mind your own,” he says, not looking at you. You look at Fili and he shrugs and thus begins the silent treatment between you and the thief.

Nori talked to literally anyone but you and you kind of missed his silly antics. You walk around Rivendell looking at the architecture. You and the Company had arrived almost two weeks ago(going by the book),but you still enjoyed the structures. It was interesting to see homes not built under hills.

“Y/n,” a voice calls and you turn toward the source. It’s Thorin. “Hmm?” You ask as he joins you in your walk. “We are leaving tomorrow morning at first light. Please inform your cousin of this,” he says and you smile.

“You don’t like him do you?” You ask and he pauses a bit to look at you before continuing to walk by your side. “If I’m being honest, you are a better choice of burglar than he is. You know how to defend yourself and you’re able to navigate the wilds perfectly fine. Bilbo however,” he says and you laugh.

“He’s a Baggins. I’m a Took. Tools are more of the wild ones than Baggins are and although he has some Tookish blood, he still pulls more of the Baggins and it can’t be helped. He is a good hobbit. His heart is in the right place,” you say and Thorin nods as you turn a corner.

You raise your eyebrows as you see Nori sticking a candle holder into his bag. He walks away as if he didn’t just take it and Thorin laughs.

“I still question why he’s here,” you tell him as you continue your walk through the halls.

“I did not ask people individually to join on the quest. I asked everyone in general and he was one of the ones that answered,” Thorin explains and that peaks your interest.

“Ah so these men or dwarves rather chose to be here?” You question, arms going behind your back.

“Yes and that my dear hobbit is true loyalty,” he tells you.

“I still don’t trust that starfish,” you reply.

“Neither do I. It seems, though, that he’s taken quite an interest in you,” Thorin says. “You mean quite an interest in my things,” you scoff rolling your eyes. You still don’t know what you did to make him not talk to you.

“That too,” Thorin chuckles. “I honestly don’t know what I did wrong. All I did was find a drawing of myself in his bag! If anything it is I that should be angry,” you reply.

Thorin looks thoughtful for a moment.

“I don’t think it was the fact that you went through his bag, but more of what you found in his bag. I dare say he’s embarrassed,” Thorin says, hands also going behind his back.

“Why would he be embarrassed?”

“Because he likes you, obviously. I mean why else would he have a drawing of you in his bag?” He asks and that makes you stop. He raises his eyebrow at your sudden pause.

“Thorin Oakenshield. If you are wrong about this, I’m going to skin you,” you tell him and he holds up his hands on defense.

“Honest to Durin, he likes you,” he says and that’s all the conformation you need before running off to find the thief.

“I hope,” Thorin mutters before turning around and walking back the way he came, hoping to put as much distance between you and him as he can. He did not want to be at the end of your wrath if he was wrong.

You spot the starfish dwarf nicking another item and you call out to him.

He turns and his face drops as he sees you. He turns and tries to walk away but you tackle him to the ground.

“Mahal woman what’s gotten into you,” he asks as you straddle his stomach.

“I needed to know something,” you tell him. “And you have to sit on me to find the answer?” He groans.

“No. I have to sit on you so you don’t leave. Why was there a drawing of me in your bag?” You ask and he groans yet again.

“That again? I told you it’s none of your business,” he says. “Oh but it is my business. You see that’s my face in your bag so tell me,” you say, poking him in his chest.

“If I tell you, will you get off of me?” He asks. “Depends on the answer,” you reply cheekily and he smiles.

“Fine. I stole it because I thought you were cute and I didn’t want to ever forget your face,” he replies and that makes you smile.

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” you say before leaning down to capture his lips with yours. You pull back and smile down at him.

“Still want me to get off?” You ask and he smiles back. “I think I like it down here,” he says before reaching up for another kiss.

He may be an annoying dwarf but he was your annoying dwarf.

Tags: @sdavid09 @jotink78

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years

Text

The Hobbit: Light Of My Life || Thorin x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, sadness, fluff.

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Female (Human) Reader

Summary: Ever since you joined The Company, you’ve gotten along well with everybody, including Thorin’s nephews. Though you’ve tried to get close with Thorin, he’d brush you off. Unbeknownst to you, the Dwarf King has taken a liking to you, though he chooses not to show it. You’re the light of The Company, and his heart, but he’s afraid to admit it due to worries that it’ll distract him from the mission, or you may reject him. When finally, one night after you get upset due to dealing with stress, he decides he can’t hold himself back anymore and walks over to talk to you.

“Kili-- Kili, don’t stand on that! It’s dangerous!” Your voice was heard throughout the small campground, as you mothered the two reckless brothers. “Oh, Fili. Not you too!”

Crash

“Mahal, why?! What did I do to deserve this?!” Kili cried dramatically, shaking his fist at the sky.

“I told you,” you sigh, walking over to the little pile. Fili & Kili thought it would be a good idea to climb on a dying tree, its branches barely able to carry its own weight. The pair fell atop each other, letting a small ‘oof’ out at the impact. In an attempt to pull Kili up, you grab at his wrist, only resulting you in being tugged down to topple them. “H-Hey!” While you three play fought, the rest of The Company watched from their seats, chuckling and enjoying the scene unravel. Thorin simply shook his head and let out a deep breath, though he too found it entertaining. “Come on, that’s enough, boys!” Dwalin called as your sides were being tickled mercilessly by Kili, and held down by Fili.

“Don’t just stand there!” You yell breathlessly, “Help me, dammit!” But nobody moved. Eventually, you were able to shake yourself out of Fili’s grip and kick Kili off, now straddling him and tickling his sides. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to get a reaction, but you found that this warrior. This prince himself, was in fact, ticklish! You three carried on, playing like children. Though Thorin felt a pang of jealousy in his heart when he watched you give all your attention to his nephews. Even sitting atop of Kili willingly! As hard headed as he was, he sighed deeply, knowing it was still his fault. You had tried your best to get along with Thorin. You weren’t exactly on bad terms, but he was a very stoic man. Hard to see through, and not as ‘sociable’ as the rest of The Company. You were the complete opposite. Like sunshine, always clearing up a sad atmosphere and replacing it with cheerful energy. When you acted as Fili & Kili’s playmate, when you cooked with Bombur, or when you helped Oin with his herbs and simply chatted with Bilbo. Even when you get sad, you put others happiness first. And Thorin liked that about you. The way your laugh rubbed off on everyone, the way your hair naturally curled at the end, and even if you were quite possibly the sweetest creature in Middle Earth, you were also deadly. You weren’t naive or dependent. You knew how to watch over yourself and fight. As much as Thorin cared for you, he refused to show it in fear that you would distract him from the mission at hand. But he knew he would have you. He couldn’t live with himself, knowing that he just let the light of his life slip away. His One.

***

Over the sound of the crackling fire, Thorin caught the sound of sniffling and soft mumbling. Everybody else was asleep while he took watch, and he knew the only one besides him must be you. The Company acknowledged that you would usually have trouble sleeping. Sometimes only getting a mere two hours before having to continue traveling. Thorin looked over to the boulder not far from him, where you were leaned up against, burying your head into your knees.

“Y/N?” He whispered softly, a concerned expression growing on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” Your voice was muffled, but you didn’t sound mad at Thorin.

“Well,” he started, getting up to walk over to you. “I’m not just gonna let you cry all night without questioning you.” He plopped down beside you, nudging you to look at him. Slowly, you raised your head to make eye contact with him. His blue eyes glimmered under the moonlight, while your eyes were red and puffy with dark circles under them. “Mahal, I’ve never seen you like this. What’s the matter?”

Truthfully, you say “I don’t even know.. It’s just..” Thorin gives you a look, waiting for your answer. “It’s whatever. Nothing to concern yourself with.” Your attitude changes from sad to seemingly irritated within a second.

“You can’t act like this and expect me not to care.”

“You’ll laugh at me if I tell you. Feelings express weakness.”

“No, Y/N. You can talk to me,” he reassures. You look away from him,

“I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.. I know I’m usually happy but I just felt empty all of a sudden. I guess I miss the feeling of love and affection, and it sounds so stupid but--” Thorin stops your ramble, “Y/N, everybody here loves you. I’ve seen the way my nephews look at you. They think you’re an amazing warrior and a person, as does everyone else. You’ve been nothing but a light to the whole Company.”

“I know what you mean!” You grumble, “I’m not talking about that kind of love. I love The Company like family, but that’s not what I crave. It’s been years since I’ve felt a romantic type of love for someone, but whoops, I caught feelings for somebody who doesn’t remotely like me the same way.”

“What are you talking about?” Thorin swallows the lump in his throat, in fear you’ve caught feelings for someone other than him. What if it was Kili? Or Dwalin? Maybe someone at home? How could you ever love him, when all he’s done was distance himself from you?

“I’ve tried to show him how much I care for him, but he doesn’t notice. He just keeps pushing me away and it hurts,” you admit, sniffling again.

“Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

“Gods, he’s just..Amazing.” you say, gazing up into the sky. “He’s a real warrior. Strong, handsome, and I find his voice soothing, except for when he’s telling me to shut up.”

“How could you fall for someone who’s only pushed you away?” Thorin continues to ask.

You sigh, “From the start, I felt this pull to him. We’re complete opposites, but I enjoy his presence, even if he looks at me like I’m insane. I know there’s a heart in him. I’ve seen the way he talks to his.. family..” You almost say ‘nephews’, but that would give you away completely. “He doesn’t usually show it, but he’s very protective and caring. Just hardened by his life battles. That’s why I keep trying. Then again, he’s always busy and I doubt he’d care for me like I do for him. I’m probably not his ideal mate, anyway. Still, I’d give anything to tell him how I feel.”

Oh, darling, you just did. Thorin thought to himself. Slowly, you felt him wrap his strong arms around you, pulling him against his chest. It was unexpected. There’s one time you had to lean against him for warmth, but you’ve never been this intimate. “He knows, Y/N.”

You process his words, and in realization, you look up at Thorin, with a questioning look in your eyes.

“T-Thorin..?” You felt your cheeks flush.

“Amralime,” he says. “I’ve always felt the same way. I just couldn’t tell you in risk of distracting myself from the quest.”

“You know I’d fight with you till the very end. I love you, Thorin, and I don’t want you to be afraid to show me how you feel.” At that, he pulls you into a kiss, catching you off guard. Though you didn’t complain, and savored the moment. When you both finally pulled away for air, he whispered to you, “I love you, Y/N. You’re the light of my life and I’d be happy to call you mine.”

BOOM THAT WAS CHEESY BUT ERKFJWLEHFHKEF THANKS FOR READING MY BULLSHIT STORIES

#thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorin the dwarf #thorin imagine #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit angst #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #thorin angst #thorin x reader #thorin x you

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cassiabaggins · 4 years

Text

I’m Not Going To Drop Him

Summary: Fili’s wife comes home early and happens upon her husband and son causing trouble. Tooth rotting fluff ahead…. beware….

Rating: K

Warnings: none, besides kissing…

******

“Fili!” Cassia says, opening the door. “Can you—” she stops mid sentence.

Fili, holding their four year old son Thorin up by one ankle, stops too.

“What are you doing! Don’t hold him like that!” She shrieks.

Fili scrambles and scoops the tot up, setting him on his hip. “Oh, Cassia, relax. Look, hes fine.”

Thorin is fine indeed, smacking his dad’s chest with his chubby baby hands and giggling wildly. “Again! Again! Frow me again!!!”

“You threw him?!” Cassia shouts. “Are you insane?!”

“What? It’s fine, mizimelûh, he likes it!”

“Wheeeeee!!!!” Thorin yells, throwing up his hands. “Again, Adad! Again!!!”

“You might drop him, Fili!”

Fili scoffs. “I’m not going to drop him, Cassia.”

He then promptly loses his grip on Thorin, who had been wriggling like a fish out of water the whole time. The four year old hits the ground with a soft thump. Cassia gasps. Fili swallows audibly. Thorin looks from his mother to his father with big, round eyes, unsure if he should cry or not. He didn’t have very far to fall at all, but maybe…

“Hey, pebble,” Fili says hurriedly. “How’s your butt?”

Thorin stands up slowly, blinking past a few tears and turns solemnly to his father. “I fell on it.”

“You sure did. That’s why I’m asking.”

“My butt…” the four year old pauses to think. “Hurts. A little. But I won’t cry! I’m a big dwarf now!”

“Aye,” Fili says, crouching down before him and ruffling his dark brown curls. “You most certainly are.”

As soon as that is over, Cassia scoops her son into her arms, cuddling his fiercely.

“Mama!!!” Thorin yells, kicking his legs. “Leggo a me!!!”

She gives him a big smooch on his cheek and sets him down. “Go find a game to play that doesn’t involve your Adad throwing you, alright?”

“Aw'ight."

As soon as hes out of the room, Cassia turns to her husband with a glare. "I cannot believe you!”

“It was an accident!”

“You dropped him!!!”

“By accident!!!”

“Oh, you are so lucky he wasn’t on your shoulders!”

“I’m sorry, okay? It was an accident! He was wiggling!”

“I’m just glad he didn’t land on his head!” She shouts, shaking her finger at him, “You are never allowed to throw him again. Ever!”

“Oh, come on! That’s his favorite game!”

“He’ll have to find a different game. I do not want to know what could happen if you miss him and he falls down a mineshaft or something.”

“Why in the world do you think I’d be throwing him around the mines? He’s not even allowed to be there, he’s much too young!”

“I don’t know!” Cassia throws her hands up. “You aren’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, if you haven’t noticed!”

Fili gives her an affronted frown. “Now that’s uncalled for.”

“You were throwing a four year old, Fili!”

“He’s a dwarf, amralime, he’s tougher than you hobbits.”

“He’s half dwarf.”

He grabs her by the waist and pulls her close, kissing her lips. She shoves at his chest, her cheeks red with anger.

“Don’t kiss me when we’re arguing!”

“Ah, but you’re so damn gorgeous when you’re angry, mizimelûh,” he murmurs, trying to kiss her again. “I just can’t help myself.”

Cassia grabs one of his moustache braids, pulling at it hard. “No! Control yourself!”

Fili yelps. “Ouch!"

She cackles, sticking her tongue out at him. "See what you get?”

“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it, huh?” He says.

“Play wha— eek!” She breaks off into a shriek as he grabs her around the waist and throws her over one shoulder. “Fili! Put me down!”

“I think not,” he says, smacking her bottom lightly. “You might pull my moustache again!”

“And you’d deserve it, you insufferable dwarf!”

“Aye, maybe so,” he says, striding over to their bed. He drops her down on it and climbs up to straddle her waist, grabbing her wrists and trapping them against the mattress. “But I can’t take that risk.”

Cassia huffs, knowing she’s trapped. Fili looks down at her with half-closed eyes, looking for all the world a lazy cat who knows he’s successfully trapped his prey. She bares her teeth at him. “Bastard.”

He blows a strand of hair off his forehead. “My parents were married.”

“Are you going to sit there looking at me or are you going to kiss me?” She asks.

He grins lazily. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He bends and kisses her, a slow, relaxed slide of his mouth against hers, and Cassia lets him take control. Lets him lower his guard. Finally, he releases on of her wrists to bury his hand in her wild curls, shifting his body so one of his knees is between her thighs. Cassia strokes her hands down his chest, and as his eyes slide closed, she shoves him. Fili falls back off the bed and lands on his bottom on the floor, eyes wide as he gapes at her. She doesn’t let him recover, pouncing on him and pushing him down on his back.

“I win,” she smirks, leaning over and bracing her hands on either side of his head.

He bursts out laughing, throwing his head back, and she giggles, kissing all over his face.

He catches her mouth with his. “Aye, you did.”

The door bursts open and Thorin runs in. “What are you doing?!” He shouts.

Cassia pulls back from Fili with a start. “Playing, sweetie.”

“I’m hungry! It’s time for lunch!”

She stands up and straightens her skirts. “It certainly is, Thorin, let’s go eat.” She scoops up Thorin and puts him on her hip.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Quiche!”

“Aye, I can make a quiche, love. You wanna help crack the eggs?”

“Mhmm!”

Fili scrambles up and catches Cassia around the waist and spins her around, putting his hands over Thorin’s ears. “We’re finishing this later.”

She smiles at him. “Fair enough.”

#fili #fili x oc #fili x reader #fic #cassia baggins #dad!Fili #fili friday #fluff fic #fili fluff #my writing

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