#legolasbadass

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry  @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512  @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff  @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @glassgulls

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Hey! 💖 Hope you don't mind being sent this, but...When you get this, you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to and publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) Enjoy 🥰

Hello darling.

Thank you and thank @wandererindreams for sending me this. Let's see...

Please Notice by Christian Leave (general fanfic song)

Easy as Life by H. Headley (general dramatic fanfic song)

The Book of you and I by Alec Benjamin (TRSB 1)

In case you don't live forever by Ben Platt (TRSB 2)

I guess I am in love by Clinton Kane (Angbang)

Thanks again...this was so fun! <3

[lathalea]

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PEOPLE??? Just look at it!!! Pure beauty! I love the colors, the light the dwarven vibes, the attention to detail... and Dis herself! 😍😍😍

I am so thrilled to finally reveal my first art piece for @tolkienrsb 2023! Here is Dís in the library of Erebor ... but what is she reading? To find out, you'll have to read the accompanying fic on AO3 by @goldensunandgoldenstallion , which will be revealed on September 8th.

[middleearthpixie]

Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨

AW... thank you and right back atcha!! 💜

[thorinsspringforge]

Farewell, Master Burglars, artists, writers, creators...

Thorin's Spring Forge 2025 has come to an end.

The mod team would like to thank all our participants for making TSF a wonderful fandom event that our majestic king Thorin Oakenshield would be proud of. 👑 💙

It's been a magical journey this year and we hope you've had as much fun as we have! ✨ If you have any questions or suggestions about the event, please contact the mods via email or tumblr. And remember... “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

If you're on the lookout for beautiful Thorin art and stories, be sure to check out our AO3 collections: ➡️ Thorin's Spring Forge 2023 ➡️ Thorin's Spring Forge 2024 ➡️ Thorin's Spring Forge 2025

All the best, @lathalea @legolasbadass @middleearthpixie @tamilhobbit

[ravnarieldurin]

Alright Hobbit & LOTR writer friends, I need some help.

I'm trying to figure out some dwarven alternatives for phrase that typical are written with the words 'man' or 'men'. These are coming from Thorin's perspective and I don't think he would refer to his Company like a commander says, "His men" since the race of Men are a separate entity to Dwarves and Dwarf-men. Plus, Thorin has a dislike for the race of Men, so I don't think he would equate his dwarven companions to men.

Examples from Thorin's perspective that need changed:

His men protested loudly.

If you were one of my men, I'd...

The men around the table laughed riotously.

...with my men?

Gentlemen (is Gentlefolk alright? Gentlepeople? Gentledwarves?)

The hardest part is when there aren't just dwarves in the scene (Bilbo and Gandalf or even some Elves) so I can't always say 'the dwarves'.

Any suggestions or thoughts on the matter would be really appreciated! Thank you!

@evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog @guardianofrivendell @laurfilijames @basil--and--sage @averil-of-fairlea @legolaslovely @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @lathalea @mismaeve @mrsdurin @filiswingman @shiinata-library @middleearthpixie @rottencherrypie @legolasbadass @putm @i-did-not-mean-to @linasofia @technoelfie Anyone else who wants to chime in, feel free! Sorry if I missed you!

[mistresskayla-blog1]

The Couch *drabble*

Fandom: Richard Armitage

Characters: Richard Armitage x OC Anna (production assistant)

Warnings: fluff, angst, desire, celebrity lifestyle, potential smut, tease, employee/employer tension, etc.

Click Click Click, and the bloom of light flashed over his face and across his broad nose. He looked down at the camera, perched on the edge of the couch. His legs and arms spread wide, almost letting her in.

Anna cleared her throat as quietly as she could, but his eyes still flicked to her, hovering just outside the camera range in Ray Burmiston’s studio in London. His smile shown just a little, and then faded quickly.

Anna could not help herself; she was supposed to be there to help him with anything he needed, but all she could think about was what she wanted him to do to her. And how she would make that smile grow broader if only she could pleasure him on that couch and let him pleasure her.

She was wearing a dark colored skirt today, and very skimpy panties, she couldn’t recall why. The fall morning had been a bit warmer, so she felt confident moving out in the world today. Her thighs were thick under the skirt and she rubbed them together as he moved on the couch, the taut leather making squeaking noises under his broad frame. Anna stood holding his tea in hand, and some paperwork, one sheet fell loosely to the floor. Anna let it fall and Richard’s eyes darted over, then back again towards the lens, catching it in his peripherals.

She sighed, not taking her eyes off him. Then slowly, bending down to retrieve the paper. She missed his eyes glint towards her again. The shape of her leg silhouetting in the high – light of the studio. She deliberately bent over like that, he thought. Trying to tease me, he swallowed softly, it was working, he thought. As soon as this was done, he would show her how he felt.

He stared down the camera lens, thinking of what things he would do to her, on this couch, or any surface he liked. He draped his arms over his knees and just stared down the lens. Commanding it to obey his whim, to take him to an imagined place where he could touch her skin, and taste it, and rub his stubble against her thigh, and…

“What?” he was momentarily startled.

“Could we go try another spot, Rich, if you don’t’ mind,” Ray said to him. Richard stood up and moved obediently to the other side of the studio. He brushed past Anna, her papers fluttering. His hand floated towards his tea, and she let go of it. He caught it gracefully and moved swiftly away. He caught a scent of her, perfume? It wasn’t that. He knew what she smelled like normally. There was something else there, he thought. Something new.

(some time later…..)

---- she had a tattoo on her upper thigh. It was of a dominatrix. And as his hands led up her calves, he saw it, her skirt rising with his touch. She looked down at him at his knees, “Kiss her like you would me”, she giggled. And in absolute obedience he started to kiss up the leg of the women etched in her skin. Trailing up the thigh and when he reached her ludely exposed pussy, his tongue tipped out between his lips. His eyes shot up to hers, as his tongue tickled the image on her thigh. Fire burned in so many parts of her, she nearly couldn’t keep steady on her feet. He braced her calf with his large hand to steady her. Then left a trail of kisses over her outer thigh, and towards her inner thigh. Her hand fingered into his hair, it was soft, and a beautiful mix of dark and grey, he was captivating.

Taglist:

@sweetestgbye @legolasbadass @lathalea @riepu10 @louk419

@richardarmitageshands @richardarmitagefanpage @enchantzz

[frosticenow]

Masterlist l Frosticenow

This is the Masterlist of all my fics.  I will try and keep it updated as much as possible.  All the the fics are posted on AO3.

Modern Girl in Middle Earth

Young Man's Fancy was Turned into the Spring

Relationships: Fíli (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s) Rating: Mature

Fíli son of Víli and Dís, brother to Kíli and sister-son and heir to Thorin Oakenshield has gone missing without a trace. While his family in the Blue Mountains mourn him, the young prince finds himself in a world different from the one he has always known.

Ongoing

Bagginshield

Diamond in the Garden

Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/ Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli/Original Female Character(s) Rating: Mature (also note this had mpreg in it)

It has been just over three years since the Battle of the Five Armies, and Bilbo had created a life for himself back in the Shire. Most of his friends and family wont speak to him and he lives with a shadow of fear the the dwarrow of Erebor will come back for him and find out about his secret. Unexpected visitors appear on his doorstep on day throwing what he thought he knew into chaos.

Ongoing

Flower that Never Die

Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/ Thorin Oakenshield Rating: Teen

Thorin is trying to support his family by leaving the safety of the mountain. Traveling to the Shire seems like the best way.

Finished  Note:  I am planning on reworking this and increasing the length soonish.  I also did this for @thorinsspringforge 2023 with @consultingpacha who’s companion piece you can see here.

Thorin/Original Female Character

The Thread of Life

Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character (s) Rating: Explicit specifically for chapters 4 and 6

Thorin Oakenshield begins his question with a small token. The handmade handkerchief was a small memento from the dwarrowdam he had loved in secret.

This was written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2022. It is a collaboration with @lathalea, who created the beautiful piece of embroidery and prompt.

Finished

A Funny Thing happened in Gondor

Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character (s) Rating: Explicit

Thorin is travelling to the Mannish kingdoms to make trade agreements and strengthen Erebor. The first stop is Minas Tirith, where the Steward of Gondor uses politics as a game. Thorin finds an unlikely ally.

Finished Note:  I did this for @thorinsspringforge 2023 with @legolasbadass who’s companion piece you can see here.

Gen

Three Bracelets and a Loaf of Bread

Rating: General 

Dis works hard with and for her people. Even if little dwarflings are being spoiled by their adad (father).

This is for The Hobbit and Unexpected Collaboration 2022.

For the Prompt: Everything about Dis

This was written for THUC2022 with @ragsweas Finished

Frerin/Original Female Character

Oh Brother Where Art Thou

Rating: Teen and Up

In which an injured Prince Frerin finds himself in an unlikely position with his memories gone and surrounded by peculiar creatures with large feet and a fondness for being kind.

For the prompt: 25 - Injured and on his last leg, Frerin didn't know where to go after he was left on the battlefield of Khazad-dum. Part of The Hobbit an Unexpected Collaboration 2022 event.

This was written for THUC2022 with @biblophilefox82 Finished

[fantasyinallforms]

Would you ever consider writing Thorin/Female OC?

Hello, Anon! Thank you for the ask!

Short answer is no.

Long answer is that I would love to enjoy some of the amazing Thorin/OC fics out there. However, Bagginshield has devoured me body and soul, and I can not imagine Thorin with anyone else. Even when I read it, it feels like cheating on Bilbo. I would make a very poor writer for something I don't enjoy reading. That said, where I fail, others have thrived!

Please, Please, Please check out the below writers to get that Thorin/OC or Thorin/Reader fix!

@middleearthpixie @lathalea @legolasbadass @fizzyxcustard

@i-did-not-mean-to

P.S. check out the tags and comments on this post for even more amazing writers!

[lathalea]

@legolasbadass

controversial writing tip

open a document and start writing

[lathalea]

Entangled 5/10

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit)

Rating: G (subject to change)

Warnings: ANGST

Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past…

You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea).

A/N: It’s been a while but I’ve managed to finish this chapter so I can finally share it with you! Let’s see how the new Queen Under the Mountain is doing…

Special thanks to the most wonderful friend in the world @legolasbadass for your amazing support, encouragement and betaing this chapter 💙💙💙

-*-*-*-

KHUZDUL:

Azsâlul'abad - the dwarven kingdom of the Lonely Mountain

Khagal'abbad - Blue Mountains

‘Urdêk - [ereborean] Kingdom Under the Mountain

Zabdûna undu ‘Urd - Queen Under the Mountain

Aklah'ân - “Source River”, the Dwarvish name for the River Running

Malasul'abbad - Misty Mountains

Khazad-dûm - Dwarrowdelf, known among the Elves as Moria

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

-*-*-*-

✨ Chapter list: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5...

✨ Entangled Masterlist

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The feast hall echoed with the sounds of music, and dozens and dozens of candles flickered as Mista twirled around in his arms. She wore her pale blue gown adorned with sweetwater pearls — he was attired in the royal dark blue garments of the House of Durin. Strength slumbered in the way he held her — and yet his touch was gentle as he led her through the chamber, navigating between all the other couples. They danced without end, his warm gaze meeting hers, his smile unwavering. It was like soaring through the sky on a cloud. She felt everyone’s eyes on them and heard their whispers.

“They look so perfect together.”

“Simply stunning.”

“He has eyes only for her.”

“Look at them dance! It’s as if they were made for each other…”

“Oh, but they are…”

When the music came to an end, Mista saw that they were the only couple left dancing. He still held her in his arms, not ready to let her go. Something flickered in his cornflower blue eyes, and then his beard brushed against her cheek, and she heard his murmured words like a distant rumble of a summer storm:

“My Queen, shall we make a little spectacle of ourselves?”

“Always, My King,” she chuckled.

His arms tightened around her as he pulled her closer, her body pressed against his, and then she felt his lips brushing against hers lightly, then giving her a little peck or two, making her whole body tingle with anticipation. The guests around them cheered, but she paid no heed to the surroundings — and neither did he.

Mista sensed the impatience in his every caress, the impatience that finally exploded when he pressed his lips against hers, so hot, so hungry, making her breathless. And when he teased open her lips and claimed them completely, she quite forgot about the rules of propriety. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she deepened their kiss even further, giving in to her own hunger.

When their lips parted, she heard his low chuckle.

“Oh, Mista…” He gave her a peck on the corner of her lips. “Your kisses are sweet like honey, my love.”

My love…

Those words echoed in Mista’s ears when she opened her eyes.

It was only a dream. So perfect. But only a dream.

Chasing away the mocking afterimages from her mind, she found herself staring at the beautifully embroidered silks of the bed canopy above her. It took her a moment to recognize where she was — not at home in Tumunzahar, but half a world away from the cosy old room she had left behind. This place was her new bedchamber in the royal wing of Azsâlul'abad. It was one of the private rooms of the Queen Under the Mountain.

Mista, Zabdûna undu ‘Urd. She wondered if she would ever get used to the title that felt much too large for her. Like a pair of travelling boots inherited from a much bigger family member.

Her gaze rested on the crown and the ceremonial key on a chain she received at her coronation — the symbols of her stature — and yet she did not feel like a queen in the slightest. She wondered how many generations of queens before her wore them. Were they all wise and sensible rulers? Were they all beautiful? Were they happy in their marriages? Were they loved by their… people?

The ancient royal insignia lay in silence on a velvet pillow, unwilling to divulge their secrets, as if urging Mista to resume her new duties.

Before the wedding night, Katla had explained to her that those exquisite pieces were usually to be put away every evening, but it was customary not to disturb the newly wedded couple during their first night together. Mista still remembered how she turned away so that Katla would not notice her blush, which only intensified when the maid gave her best wishes for conception on the wedding night. Such openness was shocking to Mista at first, but then she recalled hearing similar wishes during the wedding feast even from the most respectable Longbeard matrons of Azsâlul'abad. Different clan, different customs, she thought. From what Katla let slip before she left, a new babe born in the line of Durin was exactly what the inhabitants of the restored Kingdom Under the Mountain were looking forward to.

The possibility of bringing a child into the world one day was anything but unpleasant to Mista. Perhaps another Dwarf-woman in her position would have felt the pressure of the people’s expectations on her shoulders, but not her. At home, in Tumunzahar, one of the tasks she had gladly devoted her time to was helping to raise her siblings’ children. Besides her sister Adla, she had two brothers, and all three of them were blessed with multiple offspring. Deep down, she was certain that her father used their family’s well-documented fertility as a bargaining chip when hammering out the marriage contract with King Thorin II.

Clauses pertaining to producing children were nothing out of the ordinary when it came to arranged marriages, especially among noble families. Dwarven children did not come to the world as often as many couples would have wished for, and too many of the ancient bloodlines had already perished. This could not happen with the most important one — the line of Durin — and Mista understood her duty well. What was more, she did not mind it at all; she had often dreamed about having children of her own. With no luck in the marriage market, for many years she had thought she would be deprived of this particular Mahal’s blessing. And then Mista’s world was turned upside down when she was informed that she was about to marry none other than Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarf she had secretly dreamed of for years. Since then, an image of holding a tiny blue-eyed pebble in her arms warmed her heart as she counted down the days until her wedding.

Now, she was the royal consort of Thorin Oakenshield — the Queen Under the Mountain. It felt surreal. As a second daughter of a Broadbeam Lord, she was neither a Longbeard, nor a princess. The life she had always envisioned for herself was supposed to be simple and uneventful. Until the day her father informed Mista that she would become the Queen Under the Mountain, her days had mostly been filled with administrative work and family obligations. From time to time, she had allowed herself a moment or two to daydream about Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarf she carried a torch for so long.

Despite being his newly wedded wife, their marriage had still not been consummated. It was not easy to chase away the memory of Thorin’s hasty retreat into his chambers two nights ago. The dream that still lingered in her mind made it sting even more than the morning before. Mista bit the inside of her cheek to stop tears from forming in her eyes. She had to remember that she was a queen now. Queens always behaved with decorum and never let their emotions show, at least not in public. It was time for her to put all the teachings she had received into practice and focus on positive things. Still slightly groggy, she sat up in the bed, yawned and stretched.

Even though Mista’s dream was now gone, it made another memory surface in her mind. The events of the previous evening. Her fingers travelled to her tender lips.

Thorin Oakenshield kissed her yesterday.

That had to be a dream, too. Was it not? No. That was most definitely not a dream. That kiss truly happened — it only felt like a dream. Recalling the events at the celebratory dinner, she felt a slight tingling on her lips. She still remembered how the king, her husband, whispered into her ear, his voice low like a distant rumble of a storm, and she remembered the heat of his breath against her earlobe. Mista closed her eyes. She did not know how she managed to keep her composure last night when Thorin towered over her, so very tall and handsome and overwhelmingly majestic with his crown gracing his temples.

When he moved into the kiss, her heart was beating so fast, and she was so giddy and so terrified, and all the guests were staring, and she closed her eyes and… First, his beard grazed against her cheek, then her lungs filled with the scent of pines and precious oils, and then something brushed against her lips, and it felt nice, and after that, she shifted on her feet, and then — then it happened. His lips touched hers. Softly, gently, demurely. Any other kiss in those circumstances would have been unseemly. Yet, it felt more than enough; more than she had ever imagined. He truly kissed her. And Mista kissed him back — not only for the sake of appearances, but no one had to know that. What mattered was that the kiss — that wonderful kiss — although very chaste, was now etched in her memory forever. Her fluttering heart, the warmth of his skin, the coarse softness of his beard, her hand in his, the echoes of people chanting in her ears, and the sudden dizziness she felt just after their lips parted. But he held her still, steadying her until she sat down in her chair again.

Thorin Oakenshield, her lord husband, kissed her.

Even if this kiss for him might have been only a formal gesture forced upon them both, for Mista it was a dream come true. No. It was better than a dream. He kissed her. And he was careful and considerate, so very much different from any of the mere handful of kisses she experienced in the past. This was the best kiss she had ever had. Perfect. Just like him .

“Good morning, Your Majesty, have you slept well?” Katla entered the chamber with a breakfast tray, making Mista snap out of her reverie. Her daydreaming had to wait.

As her new maid placed the tray on her lap and began preparing the room for the day, Mista put on her glasses and mumbled a few platitudes to Katla. The coal-haired Dwarf-woman was of similar age as herself, yet she seemed to possess ten times more wit and confidence than Mista. It was apparent that she knew her duties well, and she was skilled, while Mista was groping in the dark.

Sighing, the new queen stared at the abundance of food in front of her. Eggs, cheese, a bowl of porridge, some strange fruit, and honey, and…

“Will my…” Mista searched for the right words. Act like a queen. “Is His Majesty already awake? I would like to break my fast with him.”

“I’m sorry, m’lady, but His Majesty left his chambers a while ago.” Katla clasped her hands. “I can ask Ranul, His Majesty’s valet, about future breakfast arrangements if you wish.”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” Mista reached for a slice of bread, trying to hide her disappointment. She should have expected this. The King Under the Mountain had more important things to do than entertain her. He had the whole kingdom to rebuild; he could not waste his time on idle chatter with Mista.

“His Majesty is an early riser, m’lady.” She heard Katla’s voice.

“I understand.” Mista spread the honey on the bread and forced herself to take a bite. Of course, he would already be awake, she silently chided herself once more. She wondered what Katla must have been thinking at that moment.

“Is the honey to your liking, m’lady?” The maid asked cheerfully, as if oblivious to her thoughts. “A whole barrel arrived a week ago from the Vales of Anduin. A wedding gift from Lord Beorn.”

“I have never eaten anything like it before.” Mista attempted to smile. Despite the rich sweetness spilling on her tongue, the food seemed to turn to ash in her mouth.

“I’ll let the kitchens know. They’ll make sure it’s on your breakfast tray every morning. Do you have any other wishes, m’lady? Your favourite breakfast dishes, perhaps?”

“This looks perfect. Thank the cook from me.”

“I will, m’lady, thank you. He will be glad to hear it. He is already overjoyed that he can finally prepare proper breakfasts for a crowned head!”

“What do you mean?” Mista turned to her maid. “What about breakfasts for His Majesty?”

“His Majesty is… not very particular about his breakfasts. And his other meals, too. He usually eats something simple later on, while working in his study.” Katla lowered her voice somewhat. “The only time the cook was truly happy happened when His Majesty was in recovery.”

“In recovery?”

“After the Battle, m’lady. When ‘Urdek was reclaimed. He was gravely wounded and the healers were not certain if…” The maid broke off and cleared her throat. “But all is well that ends well, as they say. Lord Óin, the Head Healer, said that His Majesty had to replenish his strength and eat well, and so the cook was over the moon about all the refined dishes he was finally able to prepare. And so the King…”

Katla’s words were interrupted by the sound of the mine bell. It struck ten times. Mista covered her mouth with a hand.

“Oh no! Is it so late? I slept for too long! I have a meeting with Lord Balin in one bell! I’m going to be late!” Panicked, she threw the quilt aside in an attempt to leave the bed, almost toppling over her breakfast tray. Only Katla’s lightning-fast reflexes prevented its contents from landing on the snow-white bed linen.

“I’ll prepare your garments right away, m’lady!” The maid’s voice reached Mista’s ears as she ran to the bath chamber.

There was an old dwarven saying “silence is golden”. For Mista, at that very moment, time was golden — more precious than any treasure. As precious as the memory of the King’s lips brushing against her lips. She would not fail him. Whatever happened, she could not be late for her first official meeting!

A new day had begun for the Queen Under the Mountain.

***

The corridors of ‘Urdek were almost silent despite the late hour — eleven bells rang out in the depths of the Mountain when Mista finally left her rooms. The majority of the inhabitants of the kingdom were sleeping off the revels of the day before.

The sound of footsteps echoed against the stone walls as Mista walked the corridors, accompanied by Lord Balin — or simply Balin, as he insisted she call him. The revered King’s advisor offered to give her a quick tour of the royal wing and the adjacent areas where the most important officials worked. Despite the fact that a greater part of all those chambers, rooms, and corridors was damaged or completely destroyed by the dragon and therefore still uninhabitable, enough of them were in decent shape to make this part of the Mountain functional. The Kingdom Under the Mountain was truly vast; Mista’s home stronghold, the largest dwarven settlement in Khagal'abbad, the Blue Mountains, as the people of Men called them, was barely one-third of its size, or maybe even smaller. Tumunzahar, however, bustled with life, while the population of the spacious ‘Urdek had barely begun to grow after its re-establishment barely a year ago.

Balin introduced Mista to her own and the King’s staff, all lined up before her like warriors before battle. The royal army, Mista thought. An impressive group of scribes, Law Masters, Record Masters, and other advisors. She only wished she could feel like their general one day.

Among them stood a dwarf-woman called Embla, who — according to the King’s advisor — was supposed to be her new personal secretary, one of her closest attendants from now on. Her unruly red hair, sparkling eyes, and affinity for giggling made Mista like her from the very beginning. They chatted amicably on their way to yet another hall.

“Allow me to show you around the Queen’s Council Chamber,” Balin opened the door before them.

When they entered a spacious room, Mista looked around, taking in the surroundings: the large stone table in the centre, the chairs around it, and the heavy shelves by the walls; some of them empty, some of them filled with books, parchments, and scrolls. All this was ready for the Queen Under the Mountain — her own council chamber. It looked both promising and overwhelming at the same time.

“Am I to have a separate council?” She turned to Balin.

“Indeed, My Lady.”

“What about the King and his council? Are we not to work together?”

“It makes me glad to hear that you are willing to participate in the King’s Council, My Lady,” Balin smiled. “You will be more than welcome at its meetings. You should know, however, that traditionally, a Queen Under the Mountain has their own council to take care of the matters she chooses to focus on fully. For example, Queen Urtha, King Thrór’s wife, oversaw the housing situation and the workers’ wages, and she also worked closely with the Royal Almoner.”

“I see.” Mista clasped her hands together, feeling complete emptiness in her head. What was she supposed to do as a queen? She had not the slightest idea.

“The Queen picks the members of her council depending on the areas of her interest.” Embla added encouragingly.

“I will have to think about that for a bit.” Mista said. “First, I will have to get to know the kingdom better and see what the priorities are.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Embla consulted a small notebook she carried with her. “Which reminds me… according to your schedule, Your Majesty, you have been invited for a tour of the kingdom in the afternoon together with His Majesty King Thorin, Prince Fili, and Princess Fridvi.”

“Thank you, Embla, for reminding me. That will be helpful.” Mista admitted. She was truly looking forward to that meeting, exploring the most important places of ‘Urdek and spending a couple of hours in her lord husband’s company. Especially the latter. Perhaps, if luck allowed, there would even be an occasion for a private conversation with him? Something less formal and more similar to that conversation they had during that ball years ago? Her heart fluttered at the thought. The memory of that ball made her think of her dream and of the kiss they shared, and Mista had to turn her back to her attendants to hide her burning cheeks.

She barely noticed that she was now facing a wall fully covered by a tapestry that depicted a large group of figures — Dwarves, of course — gathered in a large rock cavern. Its walls were black with veins of green, so characteristic for the Lonely Mountain.

“Do you like this tapestry, Your Majesty?” Balin asked and continued, not waiting for her reply. “This scene depicts the foundation of ‘Urdek. Here, you can see King Thráin I, the one with the hammer, splitting a piece of rock and finding the Arkenstone. The scholars are not certain if he truly found it himself — it was almost one thousand years ago! But what we know is that these pieces of rock were used to build the throne on which our King Thorin sits during weekly audiences. Now, that light right there symbolises…”

The sound of screeching doors made Mista jump and turn towards the entrance of the chamber.

“Here you are, Mista — Your Majesty!” With the sound of heavy footsteps, her father’s brother, Lord Taran, entered the chamber, looking surprisingly refreshed as if the revelry of the previous days never happened. “It seems that we are about to have the first meeting of the Queen’s council!”

Even his opulent garments, red and copper, tailored in line with the latest Tumunzahar fashion, did little to make him appear less like a warrior and more like a courtier. With his tattoed cheeks and grey hair gathered in two braids behind his ears, he looked ready for battle. Mista felt her stomach tie itself in a knot.

“Good day, Uncle,” she forced her lips into a polite smile. “I’m afraid that you are mistaken. I have not yet chosen its members.”

“Worry not, my royal Niece,” he made a slight bow. “With me at your side, there will be no need for a large council.”

“By my side? Are you not returning to Tumunzahar with my parents?” Mista asked faintly. Please, no.

“How could I abandon my favourite Niece at such an important time? What would His Majesty and his people think if your own family abandoned you here, all alone, without any help?”

Balin cleared his throat.

”Lord Taran, rest assured that we will provide Her Majesty with expert advisors who…”

“I am certain that what you say is true,” the Broadbeam lord interrupted him, “but I believe Her Highness, my dearest Niece, would appreciate guidance in this and any other matters from a trusted family member as she adjusts to her new position, would you not, Mista?”

Mista felt her uncle’s eyes boring into her face. He called himself “a trusted family member” — trusted by her father but certainly not by her. She could not recall having even one conversation with him that did not revolve around her assisting him with new endeavours that would bring more power or riches to their family. Not once did Uncle Taran offer her a kind word — or even simply ask her how she was faring. When it came to him, she felt like a pawn, significant only when it was time for a new scheme of his and he needed some research to be done. And he never acknowledged her help. Mista often wondered how he would have acted towards her if she had been born a Dwarf-man. Would she be allowed to run her own business by now, just like her brothers? Probably. But she was a Dwarf-woman and among Broadbeams, such pursuits were frowned upon if undertaken by someone of her gender. Instead, she was expected to put her skills to use only behind closed doors, for the benefit of her family’s multiple business ventures, but never in her own name.

Family above all , the motto of her house said.

“Your silence worries me, Your Highness,” Lord Taran stepped towards her. “I am afraid that Lord Balin and your assistant may come to a wrong conclusion about my welcome here! Surely, this is not what you mean, dear Mista, is it?”

She felt Lord Balin’s gaze on herself as she spoke hastily, “Of course not, Uncle! I-I will be happy to have you in my council.”

Family above all.

Lord Taran rubbed his hands in joy.

“And I will be happy to aid you, Your Highness,” he bowed his head, but Mista noticed the glint of triumph in his eyes.

As she looked away in defeat, her gaze fell onto her long marriage braid clasped with a golden and onyx bead. It was placed there by Thorin, the King Under the Mountain. Mista was his wife now — the Queen — much more than an unremarkable Broadbeam lass.

Mustering all her courage, she replied, “I am glad to hear it. You will be the first to know about the first meeting of the council, after I have picked all the other members. And now, you will have to forgive me, dear Uncle, I have another meeting to attend to.”

On her way out of the chamber, Mista did not spare even a glance at Lord Taran. It was easy to imagine his cold stare, the one she had seen so many times when he was displeased with her. Her heart sank. Even here, hundreds of leagues away from her birthplace in Khagal'abbad, she would not be free from his influence. Instead of enjoying her independence for the first time in her life — as the queen of one of the greatest dwarven kingdoms — she would still be a pawn on the chessboard of her family’s making.

***

“I have heard so many stories about the Kingdom Under the Mountain but none of them spoke about this place!” Wide-eyed, Princess Fridvi tilted her head up, taking in the sight before her, with her husband, Prince Fili, standing beside her.

Mista followed her gaze, admiring the large underground waterfall that gracefully flowed out from the depths of the Mountain, glistening in the air, all the way to the small underground lake below the balcony they stood on. The humming sound of the cascading water made talking barely possible, but the air around them felt very fresh, like spring on the mountain slopes over Tumunzahar, and Mista enjoyed the feeling of tiny droplets of water that found their way to her face from time to time.

“The colour of the rock behind the waterfall makes it look as if the water was liquid silver, does it not?” Master Lofar, the head of the Engineering Guild, asked. He was a middle-aged Dwarf with curly copper hair gathered into one thick braid adorned with countless golden beads. With his vast knowledge of the Mountain, he seemed like the right person to manage a big part of the renovation work in the kingdom.

“Indeed, it is so beautiful!” Fridvi exclaimed in awe, shaking her head, her chestnut locks with several intricate braids among them falling softly down her shoulders.

“That colour is the reason why our King, may Mahal bless his rule, is called the lord of silver fountains by the people of Dale. Apparently, they believe that silver flows out straight from the bowels of our Mountain!” Master Lofar chuckled.

“The people of Dale have vivid imaginations,” Fili said. “If this was truly liquid silver, we would have all perished from thirst by now!”

“Indeed. This is the main spring from which the river Aklah'ân flows out and gives life to the Long Lake beyond Dale. Imagine if it was silver as well!” Master Lofar added in amusement.

“Even though only water flows here, it is much more breathtaking than our Sapphire Lake in our mountains of Khagal'abbad.” Princess Fridvi said.” Wouldn’t you agree, Fili?”

“For me, the prettiest thing here are the emerald pools of your eyes, my love,” her husband took her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, his gaze softening.

Mista quickly looked away, ignoring the tightness in her throat. For the fifth time — or perhaps sixth — she hopefully glanced at the nearest entrance to this cavern only to find it empty yet again. The King was nowhere to be seen. They were supposed to have met by this cavern more than half a bell ago, but there was no sign of him. Something must have delayed him. He could not have forgotten about this meeting, could he?

Princess Fridvi, Prince Fili, and her were supposed to be shown around the kingdom, and Mista had truly looked forward to exploring this realm together with her new husband. She wanted to see it through his eyes, perhaps hear him share some moments from his youth as he spoke of places closest to his heart. She had been looking forward to learning more about Thorin the Dwarf, not Thorin II, the King.

Stealing another glance at the enamoured couple, she wondered if he would ever look at her the same way Fili looked at his wife. Perhaps one day… She would just have to work hard and try to become the best wife and queen she could be. But at that moment, she would have given much to be standing by Thorin’s side and hear his velvety voice as he spoke about the wonders of his homeland — her new home.

The sound of hurried footsteps made Mista look towards the entrance yet again. The person who was approaching them had dark hair, so very much like Thorin’s, and a similar profile, but she was not him . It was King Thorin’s sister.

Princess Dís moved gracefully towards Mista. Alone. A disappointed sigh escaped Mista’s lips but she tried to smile.

“Your Majesty,” Thorin’s sister bowed her head as the tradition demanded. “My brother sends his regards and apologies. He truly wanted to join you but two new caravans arrived in the morning and brought many more newcomers than we were prepared for. We are running out of available sleeping quarters and Thorin is currently trying to find a viable solution.”

“I see… Thank you for informing me, Your Highness,” Mista glanced at the waterfall and blinked away the moisture from her eyes. There was so much water in the air.

“Can I help? With the caravans, I mean,” she heard herself say, and then she added uncertainly. “If another pair of hands is needed.”

“Of course, Your Majesty!” Dís clasped her hands with joy. “There is plenty of work to be done, but would you not rather finish the tour of the Kingdom first?”

“It can wait, but I don’t think those people can. They have probably spent months on the road. Where do they hail from?”

“We have people from Khagal'abbad, your home mountains, and a smaller group from Malasul'abbad,” Dís replied.

“From the Misty Mountains? I was not aware that there were any Dwarven settlements left under those peaks,” Mista frowned. As far as she knew, those mountains had been crawling with Orcs since the fall of Khazad-dûm.

“There is a handful of them, scattered and secluded, mainly in the southern parts. It is not an easy life, from what I hear. Those settlements are mostly inhabited by the Longbeards of ‘Urdêk who chose to stay behind, together with Dwarves of other clans, and some outcasts as well.”

“And now some of them came here to find a new home,” Mista spoke her thoughts aloud. “Just like me. All the more reason to help them!”

“If Thorin could hear you now, he would be proud of you,” Dís offered her a warm smile.

Mista opened her mouth to speak when Prince Fili approached them.

“Uncle is not coming, is he?” he asked.

When his mother quickly relayed the news to him, he furrowed his brow.

“What a shame. I was hoping to spend some time with Uncle,” he addressed his mother. “There are matters I need to discuss with him before we leave tomorrow.”

“Are you returning to Khagal'abbad so soon?” Mista asked in surprise. When she arrived at the Lonely Mountain shortly before the wedding, she got to know Fili and Fridvi a little better and began to grow fond of the young couple.

“I am afraid so. We were to stay in ‘Urdêk for a month, as you know, but…” Fili’s voice trailed off as he glanced at his wife.

“We can leave in a few days; there is no rush,” Fridvi protested.

“There is, my dearest,” speaking softly, Fili took her wife’s hands in his. “We are going to bring you safely back home.”

“I am not made of glass,” Fridvi rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “There is still plenty of time.”

“You found yourself an impatient husband, my love,” Fili placed her hands over his heart and gently covered her hand with his, the features of her face softening.

Mista found herself staring at the waterfall yet again.

“I am certain that Thorin will find time for you today, Fili. After dinner, perhaps,” she heard Dís’ voice.

Fili nodded, his brow furrowed, “Very well. I just wish he had more time. Who knows when I’m going to see him again?”

“His Majesty… Thorin… He would have been here if he could. I know he wished to spend this time with you — with all of us here,” Mista said, hoping that the King would forgive her this white lie. “But he has to put his duties first. Have you heard this saying, Prince Fili? A righteous king puts his Kingdom above all else. ”

“That’s Dagur Sture, is it not? Uncle Thorin used to read his work to me and Kili years ago.” Mista recognized a hint of melancholy — or maybe nostalgia — in his words. Then he added, “This is one of the hardest lessons for a king.”

“You will make a wonderful ruler of Gabilgathol one day,” Fridvi said and pecked him on his cheek. Fili’s face brightened instantly and he whispered something to his wife that caused her to smile yet again.

When Mista stole a glance at Dís, their eyes met, and the Princess made an almost imperceptible nod towards her.

Master Lofar clasped his hands behind his back and addressed the group, “Shall we move on to see the oldest part of the main aqueduct?”

“You will have to forgive me and Her Highness, Master Lofar, but we need to leave due to an urgent matter,” Dís informed him, placing her hand on Mista’s forearm, signalling her to wait. They said their farewells, and Fili and Fridvi followed their guide.

“They are such a charming couple,” Mista said, casting one last glance at the young Dwarves as they walked away. “You must be very proud of Fili, Your Highness.”

“I most certainly am. May I have a request, Your Majesty?” the King’s sister asked.

“By all means.”

“‘Dís’ will do nicely. All those titles give me a headache. Do you know that we barely ever used them in Thorinuldûm? That decorum is needed here obviously,” she made a vague gesture with her hand at the stone walls around them, “but are they that necessary in private?”

“I believe not,” Mista agreed, hoping her next words would not be interpreted as overly bold. “I would very much like it if you called me ‘Mista’.”

“That would be a pleasure!” Dís beamed, giving her forearm a gentle squeeze. “We are family now, after all.”

“Indeed,” Mista nodded timidly, feeling some kind of indefinable warmth inside.

The Princess’ lip curled up, a half-smile Mista had already seen once or twice on her lord husband’s face.

“I must share my greatest secret with you,” Dís whispered into her ear as an elderly Dwarf passed them in the corridor. “I have always wanted to have a sister!”

“Truly?” Mista stared at her. “But you have such a great brother!”

“All the more reason to wish for a sister,” Dís chuckled. “When it comes to newest fashions and gowns, Thorin is completely useless!”

“Well, in that case, you have me now,” Mista smiled, a wave of surprise and relief washing over her when Dís suddenly embraced her.

“I hope for us to know each other better, Mista,” Dís admitted as they walked ahead with their arms looped together. “You are such an insightful person — I admire the way you reminded my son of what is important. He has his heart in the right place and I love him dearly, but he sometimes forgets we cannot have all that we want.”

Mista swallowed.

“I simply did not want him to feel bad. He seemed quite agitated today,” she explained, looking away.

“He has just learned that Fridvi is expecting,” Dís whispered as they took yet another turn towards the royal wing, with more Dwarves giving them customary bows as they passed them by.

“Is she?” Mista’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is splendid news!”

Many couples had to wait long years for Mahal to bless their union and she could imagine what joy Fili and Fridvi must be feeling. A babe to cherish and nurture. A child born of love. She took a deep breath to get rid of the sinking feeling in her chest.

“I could not be more happy, but with Fili’s constant pampering, I wonder how long it will take Fridvi to snap,” Dís chuckled. “His father was exactly the same. Most of the expectant fathers are. Something tells me that Thorin will not be very different once we hear the blessed news.”

Mista felt warmth crawling up her cheeks.

“I… I hope so…“ she said quietly, her throat constricted.

“All of the ‘Urdêk is hoping with you,” Dís squeezed her forearm again. “Come, there is nothing to be shy about. Imagine how adorable your and Thorin’s children will be!”

Mista found herself at a loss for words. How was she to tell the King’s sister that for the children to come the husband would have to be interested in the bride first? It was not his fault that her own looks were far from alluring.

“I know how it feels in the beginning,” Dís continued. “I barely knew my husband when I married him. Sometimes, those things need a bit of time.”

“How did you—,” Mista searched for the right words, “What did you do to break the ice?”

“Please do not laugh when I tell you: we talked. Our union had to work if we wanted for our people to remain in the Blue Mountains. We were not the best matched couple, but we tried to spend as much time together as we could to get to know each other better. Dinners, official events and trips… and so much more,” Mista clearly heard a hint of sadness in her sister-in-law’s voice.

“May I ask… did you find happiness together?”

“We did. And not only because we made two wonderful sons together,” Dís winked at her, and Mista blinked in surprise. Did the King’s sister truly hint at such an intimate matter? Perhaps it was like her mother said, the Longbeards were indeed much more frivolous than the Broadbeams.

“After meeting Fili, I cannot disagree with your words! I just wish both of your sons were present at the wedding ceremony,” one glance at Dís’ face made Mista scold herself inwardly. She completely forgot that Lord Balin — Balin — suggested that Kili was not the best conversation topic under the Mountain at that time.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to…” she began.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Dís shook her head adamantly. “This was my wish as well. We can only hope that he returns home one day. Oh, and here we are!”

They stopped before a pair of massive oak doors. Without delay, Dís pushed it open, as if the leaves were made out of parchment. The chamber behind them was large and filled with multiple tables, chairs, desks, scroll stands, and similar pieces of furniture, most of them covered with heaps of documents, maps, and various objects Mista did not recognize at first. The whole place looked more like a battlefield than a council chamber. Several scribes sat by their desks, hastily filling pages of parchment with countless lines of text. A handful of other Dwarves — Engineers? Stone Masters? Advisors? — moved nimbly between the desks, some of them seemingly searching for something, others gathered around the largest table in the room, their eyes set on a large piece of vellum that covered most of its surface. At the top of the table stood a tall Dwarf in a partially unbuttoned black and gold doublet that accentuated his broad shoulders, his hair falling in soft waves down his shoulders, one of his large hands resting heavily over the schematics on the table.

The King Under the Mountain.

Her husband.

Mista allowed herself a little sigh. Was it possible that he had become even more alluring since the last time she saw him?

“No, that sector is closed off for good,” he spoke in a low voice, a deep frown on his handsome face. “Cursed dragon! Any other ideas? We cannot have them living in the corridors like cave rats!”

“Reinforcements have arrived!” Dís exclaimed as they stepped over the threshold.

Most of the Dwarves present made hasty bows and returned to their work.

“Ah, Dís,” Thorin hummed, his eyes set on the map before him. “My Lady Mista. What brings you here?”

Mista mustered all of her courage and said, “We came to help.”

He nodded absentmindedly and gave out another hum.

“What about that part?” The King pointed at another place on the map.

“Weakened structural integrity, Your Majesty,” a Dwarf beside him shook his head. “But with enough resources and manpower, it could be made habitable within a half year.”

“Too long.”

Dís stepped towards the table, pulling Mista behind her.

“Thorin, Mista and I are going to help. Are the newcomers still in the Entrance Hall?”

With visible difficulty, her brother tore his eyes off the table.

“I believe so,” he said. “Dróri?”

“Aye, Your Majesty, all of them,” a chestnut-haired Dwarf on his right said.

“Who is taking care of them at the moment?” Dís asked him.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, I do not know.”

“Thorin?”

“Óri and the other healers are with them,” he gave her a curt reply.

Mista took a deep breath.

“Have… Have they been fed?” she asked.

Thorin’s brow flew up as his eyes rested on her face. She clasped her hands nervously.

“Dróri?” Her lord husband addressed his advisor but his gaze did not leave her face.

“I don’t believe so, Your Highness,” Dróri replied.

“We have sent to Dale for any food they can spare,” the King spoke.

“Good,” Mista nodded almost imperceptibly, schooling her lips in a small smile. It was not reciprocated, making her lower her gaze.

“Mista and I are going to see to their comfort,” Dís declared.

“Yes. We will,” Mista tilted her head upwards, her gaze resting on her lord husband’s unreadable face with difficulty. “Could we… It is almost evening. We may need to prepare temporary sleeping solutions.”

“Do whatever feels necessary, My Lady,” the King offered. “Dís, you know what to do. Dróri, you will go with Her Majesty and assist her in any way you can.”

“At your service, Your Majesty,” Dróri offered her a deep bow.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Mista made an effort not to grin at her lord husband. She could not believe that she had been entrusted with a task — a task she would be more than happy to fulfil.

He gave her another slight nod.

“Will I see you for dinner in our rooms?” she added hopefully.

Thorin looked around the chamber.

“I am not certain. We still have much to do here.” He glanced at the table.

“A late supper, perhaps?” Dís chimed in, her eyes meeting his.

“Perhaps,” he agreed after an almost imperceptible pause.

“Very well, I will make all the necessary arrangements, My Lord,” Mista added quickly before they left the chamber.

***

After sending Dróri to check the inventory of the textile stores — the newcomers were in need of new blankets and bedding, among other things — Mista and Dís turned their steps towards the Entrance Hall.

“Be patient with him,” the King’s sister said.

“Pardon me?” Mista stopped in her tracks.

“My brother. He is not the easiest Dwarf to be around. He—” Dís sighed. “He has been through a lot. But I promise you that he warms up to people once he knows them better.”

“I remember how very kind he was to me in Tumunzahar,” Mista could not stop herself from smiling at her cherished memories. She understood that he had changed since that time; a brush with death like the one Katla told her about would leave scars even on the greatest of warriors. As Dís suggested, she needed to be patient.

“I wish we had more time before the wedding to reacquaint ourselves with each other,” she added.

“I wish it had been possible,” the King’s sister admitted. “If only time was not of the essence. There are less than four years until Thorin's 200th birthday.”

“I am not sure I understand.” Mista corrected her spectacles on her nose. “What happens on His Majesty’s 200th birthday?”

“Our law says that if he does not produce an heir to the throne by then, the kingdom falls into the hands of his cousin, Dain Ironfoot. If this were to happen, we might have a rebellion on our hands. There is bad blood between our families.”

“Oh. I did not know that,” the cogwheels in Mista’s brain began to turn rapidly. She knew her family well. If Thorin II Oakenshield lost his crown and there was a possibility of an armed conflict, they would immediately withdraw their support, terminate their trade agreements, annul their marriage, and take Mista back to Tumunzahar. Away from him .

“I suspected as much. Everyone knows that Dwarf-women should not trouble their pretty heads with laws and other serious matters, isn’t that right? ”

Mista laughed in response, “You hit the nail on the head. They did not give me a chance to read the whole marriage contract, and I have been taking care of some of my family’s business matters and agreements for years now.”

“That's preposterous! We need to remedy this! Tomorrow, we are going to the Hall of Records so you can read it in peace. Being the Queen has its perks,” Dís gives her a conspiratorial wink.

“I would love to! I only know that,” she paused, “that providing His Majesty with an heir is one of my main duties, but I was not aware that it had to happen so quickly. Four years! My parents had my oldest brother after eleven years of marriage!”

“And Thorin was born around twenty years after our parents wed.”

“I will— I will try to do my best,” Mista offered without thinking, thoughts swirling chaotically in her head.

Dís took her hand in hers.

“Give yourself and Thorin some time, Mista,” she spoke softly. “As a mother, I can say that a child comes when the time is right. Some things cannot be hurried.”

“But it may not be enough time and besides, I know the people are expecting it,” Mista tugged at one of her braids nervously.

“A child would indeed be a welcome symbol of fortunate beginnings and rebirth of our kingdom,” Dís patted her hand. “But remember that this matter is in Mahal’s hands, not yours. Don’t burden yourself with it now, Mista. There is still time. In the meantime, rest well, and eat well, so your body is prepared.”

Finding no words, Mista simply nodded, covering Dis' hand with hers. She understood that the King’s sister meant well, but she recalled a popular saying among the Broadbeams: Mahal helps those who help themselves .

“We have one thing we need to hurry with, though," Dís gestured towards a nearby corridor. “Let us go to the kitchens and see if we can find some food for our new people.”

A Queen is the Mother of her people , a quote from Dagur Sture’s treaty surfaced in Mista’s mind.

“Lead the way, Dís,” she simply said. At least this was something she was able to do.

***

When Mista returned to her rooms around midnight, she was exhausted. There were many Mothers, children, and elderly Dwarves among the newcomers who required her attention, and despite the scarce resources, she and Dís did their best to see to their comfort. They were not alone — some of the other inhabitants helped as much as they could as well. A group of local weavers offered wool blankets, a textile merchant opened his stores to those in need, some of the younglings went outside of the Mountain to gather late grass and moss for fresh bedticks, others shared their spare food with the newcomers, Dale promised to send more food on the next day, and when Mista finished her work, she felt like the situation was under control at least for a few days.

As she entered the royal couple’s private parlour, she noticed a table filled with food and recalled that she was to meet her lord husband for supper. There were no sounds coming from his rooms. A pang of shame filled her. He had probably been waiting for her and when she did not come, he must have gone to sleep, angry, no doubt. She disappointed him yet again.

“Has His Majesty returned yet?” she asked Katla.

The maid shook her head, “I have not seen His Majesty since the morning. Ranul says that His Majesty sent for his old clothes and went with the Stone Masters to the Amphitheater some hours ago.”

“The Amphitheater?”

“Yes, m’lady. From what I understand, they were to clear out the rubble so that the newcomers can stay there for a while.”

“It will be better than the Entrance Hall,” Mista nodded, and then a thought appeared in her tired mind. “Here, Katla, give this food to Ranul so he can take it to His Majesty. He must be starving as much as I am now.”

As soon as Katla left, Mista quickly ate a bit of bread and cheese and sat by the fireplace, promising herself to wait until her lord husband returned.

She did not know when sleep took over her weary mind. She did not wake when Thorin returned to his bedchamber in the early hours of the morning. He did not notice her small figure huddled in the armchair by the dying fire.

No dreams came to Mista that night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

✨ Chapter list: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5...

✨ Entangled Masterlist

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[i-did-not-mean-to]

New Year - Old me

This past year, I've written and posted some 600 k of fic.

I submitted 12 fics for TRSB and a staggering 82 for Scribbles and Drabbles.

I have not finished any of my longfics.

I have participated in as many events as I could.

I have taken the monthly challenges of my friends, servers, and communities to heart.

I have commissioned art (for myself and for others). (and I am doing so still...as I type this...)

I have sent gifts (as many as people allowed me to make)

🌟I am proud of this year.🌟

There have been terrible personal setbacks, there has been suffering, there has been fear.

I have also married the love of my life...

I guess it's ups and downs for everyone.

So 2023 in review:

Biggest achievement (imo): I finished both Kinktober and Dead Dove December even though I've never written anything remotely like that before.

Biggest failure (imo): Dropping out on one of my TRSB even though it was fully written.

Most exciting new friends: @cilil and @elentarial as well as @goschatewabn

Most gratifying experience: Not having lost old friends (like @lathalea, @legolasbadass, @lordoftherazzles who were there from the very start)

What I take away from 2023: A wall full of art, of letters, of cards, fics I cherish, people I adore, a phone that is always pinging, and a heart full of love.

My message for 2024: If you need something, HIT ME UP. I will help if I can. I will buy that game for you. I will invite you to dinner, even if I cannot attend. I will promote your fic. Hell, I'll write you a fic. I'll draw you bad art...Just...send the message. If you never ask, the answer is always "no".

I am not sure I believe in those things, but tonight, I manifest:

May we be safe! May we be happy! May we find peace! May we find joy!

The night is dark, but together we can shine so bright.

All my best, my friends, my beloved, my cherished faceless darlings!

I wish all the blessings in the world upon you, and-if I can-I vow to do my best to be one of them.

Neither friend nor foe...you know how it goes...I will be there until I cannot be anywhere anymore.

Lots of love.

Be kind. Be generous. Spread love!

[middleearthpixie]

The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter One

Summary: Although Erebor is his once more, Thorin knows there is still a great threat to the peace of Middle Earth. Azog is gone, but another has taken his place and has sworn to finish what Azog began. Erebor is back, but it’s sadly lacking in protection and as much as he hates the thought of it, Thorin knows there is one thing that will guarantee the safety and continuation of his line.

War is coming and all Eirlys of Mirkwood wishes to do is fight alongside her brother Legolas and the other elves, united with Men and Dwarves in their attempt to quell the renewed tensions between them and the orc army of the north. But, her father, Thranduíl has other plans. Unite his kingdom with the newly reestablished kingdom of Erebor and use the power of both to defeat the orcs.

An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.1k

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If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Erebor

“Thorin, will you just listen to reason?”

Thorin spun about to stare at his younger sister with a look that would have terrified a lesser person. Although it took more than his ire to make Dís back down, that didn't mean she wouldn’t be sorry she stood up to him in the first place. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You are being unreasonable.”

“Am I? Am I truly being so unreasonable? Because from where I stand, I’m being perfectly reasonable.”

“You need to settle down, to marry and hopefully produce an heir. You’ve said so yourself. So, why is this such a terrible idea?”

He rolled his eyes as he paced along the length of the Throne Room. In the two years since he and his Company retook Erebor, and since he finally recovered from the near-fatal wounds he’d received in the process of said reclamation, the kingdom had come a long way. When they’d first returned, the once-mighty kingdom beneath the Lonely Mountain was little more than a ruin, having housed a treasure-obsessed dragon for over a century. It had taken work beyond measure to return the kingdom to its glory and for the first time since he and Balin had first come through the secret door, Thorin thought they might actually accomplish the task.

But, there were rumblings once more. The orc army, nearly decimated with the death of their leader, Azog the Defiler and his son and heir, Bolg, appeared to be growing stronger once again. And while Erebor was on its way to its return, it wasn’t there yet and its army was nowhere near large enough or powerful enough to take on a renewed orc power. Plus, he’d heard the rumors of Sauron, and if those rumors were true, Erebor could be in very real trouble in a very short time. 

However…

“She is elven,” Thorin said once he’d reached the far end of the large, rectangular chamber. Erebor’s throne, a massive block of elaborate carved obsidian, etched with gold and silver, was the only thing in the room and that was fine, as Thorin only usually came into it when he needed to think.

“So? The elves fought alongside you, didn't they?”

“She is the daughter of Thranduíl and I’d eat the Arkenstone if anyone told me he would be willing to allow his only daughter to come here.”

“There’s only one way to know. And Kíli said one of Thranduíl’s advisors brought up the possibility of an alliance between his family and ours. They took quite the hit themselves, if you remember. So apparently, he is quite open to the idea.”

He rubbed his forehead with one hand, a heavy sigh rising to his lips. Yes, he needed to think about marrying. And yes, Erebor’s army was only barely such. And finally, yes, an alliance between Erebor’s ruling family and Mirkwood’s ruling family would be wise and powerful. Especially now that the elves of Rivendell had been slowly taking leave of Middle Earth. They’d just begun their exodus, but he knew from his last visit to Rivendell that Elrond was also planning the time when he would join his kin.

But Thranduíl, of all people. The same smug princess king who’d simply tossed Thorin and his company into the Mirkwood dungeons over a perceived slightly that Thorin himself actually had nothing to do with. 

And now his sister, and his nephew, (and most likely his nephew’s wife, Tauriel, who had been a captain in the Mirkwood guard) were already making plans and testing the water for him to marry the princess king’s daughter. His only daughter. Who was, no doubt a spoiled and pampered princess to boot. 

“She’s very pretty,” Dís broke in, her voice slightly singsong in tone. Then, in her normal voice, she added, “At least, Kíli thought so.”

“Kíli thinks anything female is pretty.”

“Now, that is neither true nor fair.”

Dís was right. They’d traveled to Mirkwood only weeks earlier for Kíli and Tauriel’s wedding, where Thorin had caught a glimpse of Mirkwood’s only princess. Tall. Slim. Hair so blonde it looked almost white. Typical elf of the Woodland Realm. Pretty, but she probably knew it and he could only imagine how conceited she was as a result.

Still, this was one argument he knew he stood almost no chance of winning. Dís had thought her points through and perfectly so. Like it or not, he would most likely be marrying Eirlys of Mirkwood. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, and lowered his hand. “Dís, think about what you suggest? The Line of Durin would become half elven.”

“And the line of Thranduíl would become half dwarven.” She offered up a mischievous smile. “And I take a rather childish delight in that, myself.” 

“Of course you do.” He strolled back toward her, then skirted her to sink into the cold obsidian throne. “And you see no problem with this? None at all?”

“Thorin,” she moved closer, her hand coming to rest on his knee, “is the idea so abhorrent to you? I mean, you do have to marry sooner rather than later and if Kíli is to be believed, you could do far worse than Eirlys of Mirkwood.”

Despite what he’d said only minutes earlier, Kíli did have a eye for pretty girls, and Eirlys was most definitely striking from a distance. Up close, she was probably even more so. If nothing else, he’d at least enjoy gazing upon her. Small comfort, but if it was the only one, he’d take it.

But Thranduíl.

He drew in a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. Then met his sister’s gaze and he knew he was doomed. “What if she does not agree with this?”

“What if she does? Think of it, Thorin. Think of how much stronger Erebor will be, and how Mirkwood would be forever allied with us as well. This can only benefit us.”

“Which means I will never be rid of Thrandy.”

She didn't trouble to hide her smile. “No, you won’t. But… that might not necessarily be as terrible as you think.”

“Dís, you spent but a short time with him. Barely enough time for a conversation.”

“Oh, don't be silly. Of course I had more than a single conversation with him and I found him to be rather rather personable.”

“Even so.”

“No, no even so. If you insist on forcing a divide where one only exists in your mind, you will never be happy.”

“Dís.”

“Thorin.”

He just stared, and she stared right back. Seeing that he was not going to win this argument, arguing was wasted time and breath, and so he slowly bobbed his head. “Very well. I suppose it might be worth at least discussing it with him.” 

“Ah, at last, you’re seeing reason.” Dís grinned. “And I’ll wager she is not putting up that much of a fight about this, either.”

“You have lost your mind!”

Eirlys could only stare at her father, wondering if he truly had gone mad, for that was the only explanation for his ludicrous suggestion that she consider taking Thorin of Erebor as a husband.

But her father remained his usual cool, collected self, his blue eyes unblinking and his face void of emotion as he replied, “Why? Because I promise you that I am quite sane and this is a logical solution the problems at hand.”

“He is a dwarf, Father.”

“I am well aware of that, Eirlys.” He tapped his fingers on the woven branches that made up the arm of the woven sticks and vines that made up his throne. On those fingers, he wore several rings, one set with a gold and brown tiger’s eye stone, another that, like his throne, was woven vines set with a golden topaz. “But, as I know you are also well aware, an alliance with the dwarves would be to our advantage.”

“You speak of the Gundabad orcs, don’t you?” She didn't wait for him to nod, for she knew she was right. She’d overheard him and her older brother, Legolas discussing the orcs from the north the previous evening. “But orcs never come this far south.”

“They have been, though, and you know you heard that as well.”

Heat flitted through her at the stern look in his eyes and the definite scolding in his tone. But that didn't stop her from retorting, “Then allow me to fight, as you do Legolas.”

“No. I take no chances with you, Eirlys. And in Erebor, you would be safe, should our perimeter be breached.”

A small knot twisted in the pit of her belly. “You mean to simply send me away?”

“Of course not. Don’t be a fool.” He slowly rose and carefully made his way down the woven staircase to descend from the throne. He had to be careful because not only was the staircase curved, but he wore a ridiculously long robe of gold, green, and brown silk. His hair, the same nearly-white blond as hers, spilled over his shoulders and down his back like spun gold water, and was held out of his face partially by the crown of woven sticks and leaves, dotted with the same topaz and tiger’s eye as his rings. 

He stood only a few inches taller than her, shaking his head as he went on, “You are not being banished, only married.”

“To a dwarf.”

“It is not ideal, but elven royalty is at a premium these days and a suitable husband will not be found amongst those left. King Thorin will give you the life you should have, and that you will be safe, tucked beneath the Lonely Mountain, is only a bit more icing on the cake. He and I have had our differences, but he has since proven his worth and I would trust him with one of my most precious assets.”

She rolled her eyes. “Precious assets?”

That earned her a smile. “You do not agree?”

“You have gone mad.”

He let out a soft sigh, moving to drape his arm about her shoulders, a gesture he would not have done, had anyone else been in the throne room with them. He was loving, but reserved when others were about. After all, he had a reputation to uphold. 

“Eirlys, you must know that I have only your best interests in my heart.”

“By marrying me off to a dwarf?”

His smile faded. “Stop that. You met him at Tauriel and Kíli’s wedding and did not look down your nose at him then.”

Yes, she’d met him. Smiled and bobbed her head and then went off to dance with her friends, hardly giving the long-haired, rather shaggy-looking dwarf king a second thought. She had no idea what plans were going to be in the works following the rather modest wedding. 

“You didn't intend for me to take him as my husband then. And I don't quite understand why I can’t just stand alongside you and Legolas, should the orc army come this far south. You’ve let other women do so.”

“Enough now. You know full well why I will not allow it. You are not simply other women. You are my daughter. And I will protect you with every fiber of my being and if it means protecting this wood and those within it at the same time? I will do it. And in time, you will thank me. You will see.”

Eirlys offered up a long look. “I’ll not promise to not say I told you so, when you are wrong, you know.”

“I expect no less.”

“Good.”

“But, I have the feeling I won’t be wrong, either.”

She ignored that and the smug smile that accompanied his words. “So, when am I to be shipped off?”

Now it was Thranduíl’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’ll not be shipped anywhere. I will send word to Erebor that Thorin and his company should come here and we will work out the finer details at that point. But, you needn’t worry. The wedding will take place here.”

“Because that is my biggest concern. Where the wedding is to be held.” She pulled away, then turned to face him. “May I go then?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.” 

She was almost to the doorway of woven vines when Thranduíl called, “Eirlys?”

She paused, peering over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“You will see, this is for the best.”

She met his gaze and although she wasn't entirely happy with his decision, she knew that he did have her best interests at heart and would do nothing to put her in any danger. If anything, he was always overprotective of her and had been ever since her mother’s death. Knowing he did what he did out of love was enough to make her sigh softly as she nodded. “I know, Papa.”

His eyes softened and a hint of a paternal smile played at his lips. “Good.”

[thorinsspringforge]

Attention all Thorin fans!

Hello everyone! As we begin planning the 2025 edition of our event, we want to announce that we are looking for a new mod!

If you have some time between now and May, you like using Discord, and you're comfortable writing posts/messages in English, we'd love to hear from you! Previous experience as a Discord server mod is an asset, but it's not required. If you are familiar with the Bagginshield part of the fandom and located outside of the ET (or similar) time zone, that's also a plus. The most important thing is that you like Thorin (duh) and are enthusiastic about this event!

Please DM us or send an email to thorinsspringforge@gmail.com if you're interested.

— Mods @lathalea, @legolasbadass, and @middleearthpixie

[mistresskayla-blog1]

Drabble...

“Voice, Interrupted”

Fandom: Richard Armitage

Characters: Richard Armitage v Kayla Crowe

Warnings: none. Just a little fluff in the S&W universe, kissing,

Kayla knocked on the booth door. Richard acknowledged her, dropping the headphones off his head to see what she had to say.

Kayla strolled in, smirking. The technician, Max watched their exchange, still recording.

Kayla leaned in and kissed Richard on the mouth. Her hands cradling his face. The audible sound of a stolen breath came through Richard’s headphones on feedback.

The kiss grew deeper and Richard stayed seated, enjoying the moment. His hands lingering towards Kayla’s ass. When he made contact, she giggled.

They kissed for some more seconds, minutes, it was hard to say.

There lips parted and she smiled as she whispered, against his cheek, “I love you, I’ll see you soon”.

His eyes sparkled as she stood back up. He swallowed hard as she strode away.

Richard cleared his throat and looked to the technician, “Max? should we go again?”

The door to the sound booth clicked closed as Max looked at him. Richard watched her swagger away towards the outer door to the studio as he put his headphones back on.

Max looked at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

Richard looked at him again, “What?”

Max, “Does she do that a lot? Just come in here and um,” Max looked down at the board almost sheepishly.

Richard nodded, “Yes. She does” He smiled, licking his lips in remembering.

Max, “How many times, I’m just asking for the recording schedule, you know”.

Richard nodded, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “depends on the day, but were on the Gottmans yeah, so probably 6 times a day I guess”. Richard looked thoughtful for a second.

Max, “Doesn’t it, well wait. What’s a Gottman?”

Richard, “They are relationship coaches, and there theory on kissing and couples strength has been a game changer for us. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but the focus is very rewarding”.

Max, “I was just wondering how you got her to do that?” Max tried his best to busy himself with the board as he listened for Richard’s answer.

Richard, “Trust and care. We made promises to each other that nothing is more important than our connection and affirming that is at the top of that list of daily priorities”.

“And I,” he grinned, “really like kissing”.  Richard giggled warmly.

Max chuckled. And sat back down at the board. Richard readjusted his headphones and found his spot in the book. Continuing to record for the day. Richard had to take an extra minute to reset himself, the feeling of love and warmth in his chest over her was happily overwhelming.

Taglist:

@richardarmitagefanpage @richardarmitageshands @legolasbadass

@sweetestgbye @riepu10

[lathalea]

@legolasbadass This is another one of those moments when I tell you “I have no idea what you’re talking about” with a poker face and then go and weep in the corner over my “Springtime” notes 😂😂😂