#pre smaug

[delicatenightfury]

Tell Her

2022 Month of Writing: Day 14

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 1,441

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

Erebor was stunning. The great hall was beautifully lit, shining light on the wealth that the dwarves had in their kingdom. A great feast lay out on the tables, which were surrounded by merry dwarves already deep in their cups. Music and laughter filled the hall, making it feel even more lively. Everyone was enjoying themselves and the celebration.

Everyone except Thorin.

He kept up the appearance of a happy prince, but his mind lay elsewhere. It was hard to believe that while such a celebration went on in front of him, he would rather be somewhere else.

Or rather, with someone else.

His mind drifted off to y/n, and not for the first time that night.

y/n was a truly familiar face to him. She was a servant in Erebor, and had been for many years. She took care of Dís’s chambers and frequently spent time with the princess. Meaning that Thorin saw her quite often. 

When he first met her, she had been soft-spoken and reserved. But as they interacted more, she grew out of her shell (with some encouragement from Dís). y/n was brilliant. She brought a warmth to a room that a fire could not. Her smile and laugh never failed to make Thorin do the same. She was well read and knowledgeable, but also very curious. Thorin often found himself telling her stories about his trips he would take with his family outside the mountain.

There were some that might have found the friendship between the young royals and a servant to be odd, unbecoming, or scandalous even. But the Durins had little care. y/n practically grew up with them and because she spent so much time around Dís, she spent time with the princes too.

“You’re distracted,” Frerin said, nudging his brother. “If you don’t smile, people might start to think you’ve turned to stone. They might try to come at you with chisels and picks just to see if you still live beneath the rocks.”

“Very funny,” Thorin replied, chuckling slightly at Frerin’s antics.

“What’s on your mind? Or should I ask who?”

“Hush, brother. You need not concern yourself.”

Frerin lifted his hands in surrender, but smiled.

“Just trying to help.”

He stayed silent after that. Thorin glanced at Frerin for a moment, skeptical of him actually being done. When he didn’t say anything, Thorin turned away. He lifted his cup to his lips and took a drink.

“So you’re sure you’re not thinking of anyone?” Thorin struggled not to choke on his drink. “You all right, Thorin?”

He shot Frerin a glare as he swallowed.

“Fine. If I answer your question, will you stop pestering me?”

“Perhaps. One way to find out.”

Thorin sighed.

“I would rather not be here tonight. And before you ask why,” he shot Frerin a knowing look - his brother already had his mouth open to speak, “I wish I was in better company.”

“Like y/n?”

“...Aye.”

“You know, it seems like you’ve been having these kinds of thoughts a lot lately.”

Thorin looked at his brother, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“You just seemed very distracted lately. Father has noticed it. Dwalin and Balin have both made comments. Dís and I have seen it too.” Thorin looked down. He hadn’t realized how much his thoughts had been consuming him recently. He didn’t know that others had taken notice. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Thorin sighed and took another sip of his drink, carefully thinking over his words.

“It’s y/n,” he said.

“Well I figured that.”

“I find myself missing her presence, her intelligence, and her wit. She is fun to be around and is challenging in the best ways. I can’t seem to truly put into words what it is I feel, but my time spent with her never truly feels like enough.”

“So you’ve taken a liking to her.”

“Of course I have. She is our friend.”

“He means more than a friend, you thick headed oaf.” The brothers turned to find that Dís had joined them. She smiled at her oldest brother. “You’re different around her, Thorin. It’s refreshing to see.”

Thorin stood quietly after that. He thought back to all of his shared moments with y/n. He greatly enjoyed those moments he got to spend with her. Sometimes, he even had the opportunity of being with her without Dís being present. Their shared moments were ones he had grown to cherish.

“So what are you going to do?” Frerin asked, bringing Thorin out of his thoughts again.

Thorin looked between his younger siblings, who were staring at him expectantly. He went to say something, but Dís quickly interrupted him.

“If you say anything other than ‘tell her how I feel,’ I’m going to hit you.”

Thorin stared at her for a moment, taken aback by her words.

“I’m not sure what I can say,” he said slowly.

“Tell her what you’re feeling!”

“Despite what I might be feeling for her, I can’t. She is your servant, Dís, and I am a prince. Our father and grandfather would never approve.”

“Except they do.”

“What?”

Frerin smiled.

“I’ve already talked to them. They’ve noticed your behavior as of late and asked me if I knew what was going on. I told them that you fancied y/n.”

Thorin stared at his brother. He could feel the heat rising in his face, though he couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger.

“Frerin,” he growled.

“She likes you too.”

Thorin stopped again and looked at Dís. She was smiling innocently at him.

“What?”

“What do you think we talk about, Thorin? She’s asked about you countless times and I eventually asked her if she was interested. Funny enough, she’s had similar thoughts to you. You know, the whole ‘I’m a servant, he’s a prince’ argument.”

“We can all see you like each other,” Frerin said. “And if you need more people to say it for you to really believe, then we can definitely find some people to convince you.” Thorin shook his head. “Good.”

“Listen, Thorin.” Dís grabbed her brother’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I understand what thoughts you’re having about the situation. But the people around you can tell how much you love her. And we approve. That should tell you something.”

His siblings gave him a minute to process the information they had given him. It all felt so hard to believe.

Thorin looked back at his siblings, but something behind them caught his eye. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

y/n was walking through the crowd, dressed in a beautiful (favorite color) dress. She looked a little uncomfortable, but she had never been part of a celebration like this, so he found it understandable. He also thought she looked cute with the little lost look on her face. Dwalin then approached her, giving her someone familiar to talk to.

“She looks beautiful tonight,” Frerin said suddenly. Thorin glanced at him. “You should go to her.”

“Of course she looks beautiful,” Dís said. “I helped her get ready. Not that she needed much help; I just helped enhance her natural beauty a little bit.” She nudged Thorin with her arm. “But he’s right. Go to her. She knows how you feel about her too. That’s why she’s here.”

Thorin nodded slightly. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her. She looked stunning. Her smile seemed to light up the room as she talked with Dwalin, and Thorin thought he could see her bright eyes from where he stood.

He set down his drink and started walking toward her. He watched Dwalin glance at him, say something to y/n, then step away. y/n turned around and smiled when she saw Thorin approaching her. She curtsied a little.

“My prince,” she said.

“My lady,” he said, giving a bow in response.

“I’m afraid I’m no lady. At least not in the sense you speak of.”

He could sense the underlying meaning behind her words - I’m a servant, you’re a prince.

Thorin gently took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand.

“You will forever be a lady in my eyes,” he said. “And if you are willing, be my lady? My love?”

“You’re sure?”

“More than anything. And I’m afraid my siblings will riot if we choose anything less.”

“And we can’t have that now, can we?” y/n smiled at him. “I would love that, Thorin. As long as I get to call you mine as well.”

“I would love nothing more, my love.”

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Thorin’s Operatic Career

As my special thank you for making The Marali Festival your #3 most loved Sunny fic, here’s a little drabble of Thorin thinking he wanted to be an opera singer when he was younger.😊 If you missed any of the fun this week you can find the links below. Tomorrow I present #2!!

To Move the World with One Song

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Characters/Pairings: Thorin & his Grandmother; Thorin/Bilbo

Words: 1152

Thorin had been sixteen years old when he first attended an opera. He had been so overwhelmed by the voices, he began to wail quite loudly halfway through the first act until his mother took him out into the hallway. His father and grandfather had been incredibly embarrassed, and immediately reprimanded him when they made it back to the royal wing. Thorin’s grandmother was the only one to take the time the next day to find out exactly what it was that had upset Thorin so. He told her he had never heard voices so beautiful before, and the emotion in it just made him hurt so bad. He expected to get a lecture when he was done, and he waited anxiously in his seat, unable to meet his grandmother’s eyes. Instead, her quiet verdict nearly had him jumping in joy.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, you will start music lessons with me tomorrow right before lunch. No exceptions.”

His excitement was lessened the next day when she sat him down at a beautiful golden harp.

“But Gamul amad (Grandmother), this is an elf instrument.”

“I don’t want to hear any of your sass.” She declared. “Elvish or not, this will be the perfect instrument for you to match pitch with and if one day your voice grows as deep as your Gamul adad (Grandfather), harmonize with. Now, do you wish to learn or not?”

Thorin might have pouted after that for days on end, but he was diligent in learning how to pluck the strings and match his voice to the note. His grandmother started him in simple scales, but it was barely a month in that Thorin sang and played his first full song. The Queen Under the Mountain understood in that moment that Mahal had granted the child a gift. And after Thorin performed for the first time in front of his family, Thror and Thrain finally stopped nagging her about Thorin being in music instead of his real lessons. 

Two years went by, and Thorin was accepted for a minor role in the next opera. Barely an inch of hair on his chin and a voice that still favored the high tenor and alto notes, but there wasn’t a dry eye in the theater that night. Something that brought Thorin immense pride and glee. It was at that point that Thorin made a rather grave error in judgment.

“Adad, what if I don’t want to be a king? What if I want to be a player instead?”

Thrain froze, and even Fris paused from where she had been setting the table.

“Thorin, being king is not something you choose. It is a sacred duty that Mahal bestowed upon our line. To care for our people in the greatest possible capacity. It is a duty that you don’t just…throw away.”

“But why can’t Frerin be king? What if I’m not good at it? I’m good at singing, and I like singing.”

“Mizimith (young jewel)...Some choices are ours to make, and some are decided for us. This is one of those paths I’m afraid that you can not deviate. I’m sorry.”

Thorin went to bed that night, tears still streaking down his face. He didn’t understand. Why would Mahal bless him with such talent if he wasn’t meant to pursue it? He could be one of the best singers in Arda if they let him. Why wouldn’t they let him? Thorin fell asleep to the dream of running away, far away where he could sing as much as he wanted. 

When he awoke the next morning, his routine changed slightly. He was to spend two hours in the throne room with his father and grandfather during court to learn what it means to be a prince. Much to the Queen’s chagrin and Thorin’s disappointment, music lessons became secondary. A passing fancy compared to the integral etiquette lessons in his curriculum. In a true twist of tragic irony, Thorin never got the chance to grow bitter to his new life before the dragon came and burned it to the ground.

However, in the wilderness of the world, staring up at stars instead of rock, he had to wonder: what was the point? Why had he been given such a voice that went unused more and more with every passing year? Nevermind that time and maturity brought it down to a rich baritone that still managed to bow over any who heard it. Coupled with the song the refugees of Erebor had composed, Thorin still managed to bring people to tears. However, he didn’t realize the power of such a skill as king until he ensnared the most useful of companions into joining his quest for his homeland…

Thorin paused in his ministrations of plucking the strings of the delicate instrument he held. 

“Why did you stop?”

Thorin looked over to see Bilbo had long given up on reading, and was sipping from his tea in his armchair, head back and eyes closed in bliss.

“You told me once that it was me or more accurately my singing that made you want to run out your door, correct?”

Bilbo slowly blinked over at him, but his gaze was as fond as it was exasperated.

“Fishing for compliments, are we?”

Thorin chuckled, shaking his head as he started picking at the harp again.

“Not quite. A thought had just occurred to me is all.”

“Oh?” Bilbo prompted as he decided to get up and move closer to him.

“I believed at one point I could either be a great king or move the world with my singing. And it turned out, I only had to move you to be the other.”

Bilbo snaked his arms around Thorin’s neck, giving him a wide smile before he leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Well, this is certainly the opposite of an ego boost. Unfortunately, my rather ridiculous dwarf, you were fairly impressive far before meeting me. I also won’t deny that you are, in fact, a siren that captured my poor sheltered heart.”

Thorin’s grin turned downright wolfish. 

“Sheltered? May I remind you of who took charge last night, even teaching this old dwarf a thing or two.”

Bilbo swatted him lightly on the shoulder, a scowl on his face to hide his burning cheeks. 

“Don’t get cute.” He warned.

“Or what, mudùmê (my comfort)?”

“Or I may just force you to serenade me for the rest of the night.” Bilbo teased, kissing Thorin for real this time.

Little did Bilbo know that’s exactly what Thorin intended to do for the rest of their lives. He may not be playing for thousands anymore, but his audience of one was by far more important, more captivating, and certainly worth more than mere fame could compare. Whether by Mahal’s design or not, Thorin never again regretted his lot in life. Not when it led him to Bilbo.

Prompts | Commentary: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Star’s Art

[book--brackets]

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien (1937)

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. Written for J.R.R. Tolkien’s own children, The Hobbit met with instant critical acclaim when it was first published in 1937. Now recognized as a timeless classic, this introduction to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, the wizard Gandalf, Gollum, and the spectacular world of Middle-earth recounts of the adventures of a reluctant hero, a powerful and dangerous ring, and the cruel dragon Smaug the Magnificent.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan (2005-2009)

Percy Jackson is a good kid, but he can't seem to focus on his schoolwork or control his temper. And lately, being away at boarding school is only getting worse - Percy could have sworn his pre-algebra teacher turned into a monster and tried to kill him. When Percy's mom finds out, she knows it's time that he knew the truth about where he came from, and that he go to the one place he'll be safe. 

She sends Percy to Camp Half Blood, a summer camp for demigods (on Long Island), where he learns that the father he never knew is Poseidon, God of the Sea. Soon a mystery unfolds and together with his friends—one a satyr and the other the demigod daughter of Athena - Percy sets out on a quest across the United States to reach the gates of the Underworld (located in a recording studio in Hollywood) and prevent a catastrophic war between the gods.

The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien (1954-1955)

In a sleepy village in the Shire, a young hobbit is entrusted with an immense task. He must make a perilous journey across Middle-earth to the Cracks of Doom, there to destroy the Ruling Ring of Power - the only thing that prevents the Dark Lord's evil dominion.

The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis (1950-1956)

Four adventurous siblings—Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie— step through a wardrobe door and into the land of Narnia, a land frozen in eternal winter and enslaved by the power of the White Witch. But when almost all hope is lost, the return of the Great Lion, Aslan, signals a great change . . . and a great sacrifice.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1943)

The Little Prince is a classic tale of equal appeal to children and adults. On one level it is the story of an airman's discovery, in the desert, of a small boy from another planet - the Little Prince of the title - and his stories of intergalactic travel, while on the other hand it is a thought-provoking allegory of the human condition.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini (2002-2011, 2023)

When fifteen-year-old Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself. 

Overnight his simple life is shattered, and, gifted with only an ancient sword, a loyal dragon, and sage advice from an old storyteller, Eragon is soon swept into a dangerous tapestry of magic, glory, and power. Now his choices could save--or destroy--the Empire.

Time Quintet by Madeleine L'Engle (1962-1989)

It was a dark and stormy night; Meg Murry, her small brother Charles Wallace, and her mother had come down to the kitchen for a midnight snack when they were upset by the arrival of a most disturbing stranger. 

Wild nights are my glory, the unearthly stranger told them. I just got caught in a downdraft and blown off course. Let me sit down for a moment, and then I'll be on my way. Speaking of ways, by the way, there is such a thing as a tesseract. 

Folk of the Air by Holly Black (2018-2020)

Of course I want to be like them. They're beautiful as blades forged in some divine fire. They will live forever. 

And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe. 

Jude was seven years old when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. 

To win a place at the Court, she must defy him--and face the consequences. 

In doing so, she becomes embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, discovering her own capacity for bloodshed. But as civil war threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab (2020)

France, 1714: In a moment of desperation, a young woman named Adeline meets a dangerous stranger and makes a terrible mistake. 

As she realizes the limitations of her Faustian bargain-being able to live forever, without being able to be remembered by anyone she sees- Addie chooses to flee her small village, as everything she once held dear is torn away. 

But there are still dreams to be had, and a life to live, and she is determined to find excitement and satisfaction in the wide, beckoning world-even if she will be doomed to be alone forever. 

Or not quite alone-as every year, on her birth-day, the alluring Luc comes to visit, checking to see if she is ready to give up her soul. Their darkly thrilling game stretches through the ages, seeing Addie witness history and fight to regain herself as she crosses oceans and tries on various lives. 

It will be three hundred years before she stumbles into a hidden bookstore and discovers someone who can remember her name-and suddenly, everything changes again. 

Circe by Madeline Miller (2018)

 the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child—not obviously powerful like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power—the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts, and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur; Daedalus and his doomed son, Icarus; the murderous Medea; and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from or the mortals she has come to love.

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 11 - Starlight

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series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

eleventh chapter synopsis: Surrounded by pain and grief, Thranduil found himself willing to be something more simple than a king: he was just a man in love. [2K]

warnings: female!reader. pre-Smaug. angst. hurt no comfort. trauma. baby boy is having a difficult time.

notes: so, here i am. i wrote this chapter and it was so, so, so sad i had to actually rewrite it. like it was sad to the point y'all would ask me if i have something against love.

glossary: Idril: Treasure, sweetheart┆

Most days he can ignore the discomfort. There was once a time Thranduil would fear being unable to stop himself from tearing his face appart. A time long gone by now.

“The Elf-path was affected in multiple points”, his advisor continued the report. “Fallen trees and dead spiders block the way. Give the order and we are ready to clear the path.”

Today is not most days. The cold breeze feels like needles piercing his face, like smoke penetrating his nostrils. The collar of his robe rubbed against the sensitive skin of his neck. The perfected illusion spell hid so much of him. It recreated the bone structure of his jaw, the fat of his cheeks, his left eye. It even covered the smell of rotten flesh.

“There is no need to clean the path”, Thranduil waived his hand, dismissing the emergency council. How luck. During a tornado, one that was able to bring the oldest of trees down, the only blood spilled in the Elvenking’s domain was his own. “We are not expecting any visitors.”

We are not welcoming any visitors, he left unsaid. Soon winter will reach Woodland. The sindars, knowing the forest’s secrets, are free to cross it whenever they wish. Others will have to wait until spring.

Or die trying to reach his Halls.

“What an interesting statement”, Tuor smirked. With the other members of the council far away, nothing stopped Tuor from leaving his place as a captain and acting solely as a friend. Thranduil sighed. “A winter without visitors. No carriage or wagen crossing our land. No one enters.”

“And those who try shall face winter’s cruelty”, Thranduil descended from his wooden throne. He paused near Tuor, then continued his way down the hall. “Nature has always protected us from the rotten, my friend. Do not forget it.”

“I agree, my king. No wanderer daring to deal with wild’s harshness can be trusted near our people.” Tuor glared at Thranduil’s back before following him. Just one more thing to burn Thranduil. “It surprises me. That only now I realized something else.”

“And what is it?”

“That if no one enters, no one leaves.”

Thranduil stopped walking. He turned around, his robe sliding against the stairs. “What are you implying?”, he asked, staring at Tuor from bellow. As if he did not already knew. It was the only thing he could do.

“A new jewerly came from Erebor. One that is not on display”, Tuor walked down the stairs keeping him away from his friend. It felt wrong to look down at a king. Unnatural. “And she did not slept on her chambers.”

A blush made to Thranduil’s long ears, who so easily forgot his place as a king. “Are there any rumors-“

“No”, Tuor interrupted him. “I went looking for her this morning, to inform our trainings will cease for a while. Her reputation continues immaculate, but only because a tornado stole everyone else’s attention. You should had know better, Thranduil.”

Oh, he knew. Thranduil knew it was not right. It was not a behavior a king should manifest, not a sort of request an elve can speak out loud without feeling ashamed. Thranduil knew a lover deserves respect. That the bare minimum one could do is care for the other’s comfort and safety.

And still, he did not stopped himself.

“Stay”, Thranduil whispered. “Please, do not leave me alone.”

Your gaze burned him. For so long you stared into his eyes, and for the whole time Thranduil felt that you could see something beyond him. Where you searching for his intentions, for any hidden meaning, for a way of stopping whatever this is from continuing? Thranduil confessed, stripping the very fabric of his soul naked for you. His heart, bare for you to do as you wish.

That is why it took me so long, Thranduil admitted for himself. How vulnerable it is to not hide the truth.

Your fingers continued steady against the doorknob. He feared you changed your mind again. Thranduil averted his gaze, head turned towards his balcony. The destruction was long gone, but the wind was cold and strong still. What a privileged vision of a chaotic night.

It is late. Past midnight. It has been hours since you decided to not walk away. Enough time for you to decide it was a bad choice. Enough time for you to regret ever laying your eyes on his dead skin and putrid scars. Enough time for you to realize Thranduil is as disgunting as he thinks, and your sweet home is better than this ancient one.

The bed creaked, and his eyes immediately found a way towards yours. Slowly, as if every move had to be delibered, you lay down besides him. Your eyes glistened, the moon reflecting on them, returning his gaze. You smiled, and something inside him froze.

“I feel the same”, you confessed, voice soft in the night. “About everything.”

Thranduil gasped. His throat ached, a sudden need to cry almost taking over him. “Oh, what a relief”, he whispered again. There was no need to, you both were alone. “Thank you, idril.”

One of your hands found a home deep into his long hair. A caring stroke. As the minutes passed, you intertwined your fingers with his. Such a cold hand. Thranduil brushed his open lips against your knuckles, breathing warm air against your skin.

The sweet carress came to an end, so Thranduil looked up. He saw your eyes closed, lips appart from one another. The night was darker. The moonlight felt so cold now. You looked calm.

Gazing upon you, the Elveking rested.

Was he being scolded? A king being lectured by a captain. That would be enough to guarantee Tuor some time in the dungeons. Or it would have been, if he was not right. In the absence of a response, a chuckle came out of Tuor’s throat. “Does that means you finally confessed?”

“Enough,” Thranduil growled.

Tuor heard his king’s words. For the sake of his amusement, he simply ignored them.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

There is no medicine for his pain. After the fire went out, what remained there to be healed already was dealt with. His face itches, the ligaments of his muscles twitch, the burning on his face is constant. Meanwhile the pain is there, his body is not.

Where does a leg begins? One might say right before the thigh. Other would chose the pelvis, or at the basin. Both would be wrong. It starts and ends in the brain. Lose a leg and all the nerves shaill remain there searching for something that ceased to exist. A mind griefs, a brain does not.

His cheek is gone. His neck is gone. His left eye is gone. And it hurts. It feels cold and hot, it tingles and shocks. He can feel muscles that do not move, the need to scratch a skin that is not there. It is a real, anatomical pain.

Thranduil cannot stop it, no medicine can end a fire that is not there, but a few things can help.

Near his chambers, mere minutes away from his bed, a private garden embraces him when pain and worry is too much. Surrounded by this controlled nature, Thranduil breathes the smell of roses and wysteria. The perfume calms his nerves down.

Looking at the box between his hands, the stiffness came back to his shoulders. Inside it was a request, one the dwarves of Erebor carefully crafted. A necklace made of pure starlight. Each of the almost endless white gems came from the Elvenking’s personal collection. Except by one.

That pendant he found back in Rivendell. A tear shaped crystal, with snow locked inside it. Such a beautiful jewel. Such a cruel reminder of the time you both stayed appart, shattered.

Thranduil wondered about the moment he would be able to look at you, aware that you understood his feelings. He dreamed about you looking into his eyes, feeling the same. But Thranduil never imagined it would happen as it did. Yesterday was… not how it was supposed.

You found him crying, bleeding, deep into a filthy dream disguised as memory. You heard his screams, felt his warm blood against your skin, saw his true face. You held him, kissed him, and for a second almost ran away from him.

Thranduil can do more. He can be more.

The doors creaked open, and Thranduil forgot about how worried he was.

A sweet perfume welcomed you into this garden you have never seen before. Usually you would have admired it, but all you did was to look straight into his sore eyes. They fell towards the arms that held you close last night. To the war knuckles resting on top of an armchair.

“Your quartermaster said-”, as you noticed what filled this room, your voice betrayed you. “-you called me.”

In front of Thranduil, there was a table covered by green linin. You saw pearly folded napkins and golden cutlery. In such a intimate place, a proper supper was served. Meat and pies on display, bows with fruits and deserts. So much wine.

Thranduil breathed deep. “Would you join me for this evening?”

It was not different from any other meal you both shared. From the very first meeting, it was always the same. Thranduil would hear, you would talk, and the rest of the world would be successfully ignored. And like always, it was good. It was right. To be just the two of you.

But it was so different too. Impossible not to feel your face heating up, hands soaking in sweat. You saw the tip of his ears bright red. That made you bite back a chuckle.

How could Thranduil look into your wonderful eyes without becoming tongue tied? Or how could you look at the hands of a king serving you more wine and not remember how right they felt against your cheeks?

Listening about the destruction of the tornado, you noticed that he tastes like fine wine. Hearing you speak about your trainings, Thranduil kept on trying to discover what was the scent of your perfume.

As you tried to finish the apple pie on your plate, Thranduil moved on his seat.

“I made…”, Thranduil hesitated. Never before he felt difficulty speaking out loud. Decided to not make a fool of himself, he placed the box besides your plate. “You are so dear to me. I hope the beauty of this gift can make you as happy as you make me, idril.”

Speechless, you alternated your gaze between Thranduil and the masterpiece in front of you. Truth be told, any gift would have make you rejoice after what he said. And still, the beauty of it made you stutter. “Is this really for me?”

“I can… Help you. With it”, Thranduil managed to said. He felt the need to punch his own face, but decided that would make his situation even worse. “If you want me to.”

Looking at him, you used all your courage to answer. “Only if we agree to stop being so awkward. I want to be here. With you. And I know you feel the same. I do not want to ruin this by thinking too much when there is nothing to think.”

“You always says the thing I last expect you to”, Thranduil whispered. Biting the insides of his cheek, he nodded. “I agree. I want to be with you. Nothing else matters.”

You had to stop yourself from jumping on him. Instead, you placed the necklace at the base of your throat and turned around. It was so heavy. If it fell on your lap, it would have bruised. His fingers were so careful. So right against your skin.

Thranduil should have wanted to see how it looked on you, but he could not move his hands away from your shoulders. You should have wanted to show him, but you did not wanted to move away from his touch.

You both knew it was perfect.

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0ly-fire @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @homewhereitsat @instantnoooodles @hungrh4yyy

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[pizzaqueen]

A very little something I wrote when I was feeling sad. Possibly pre-slash, around 150 words

Eddie becomes a plant dad, and he introduces Steve to all his babies. There’s Tree Beard and Quickbeam and Leaflock and Beechbone and Skinbark—

“And this,” he says, gesturing proudly to a pot with long crinkly leaves bursting out of it, “is Robert.”

Steve blinks. “Robert?”

“Yeah.”

“How come all the others get weird names—”

“They’re named after Ents.” Eddie pauses. “Well, except for Smaug, the dragon tree.”

“And this one is Robert?”

“Because he’s a plant.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“No, like… Robert Plant.”

Cue a blank look from Steve.

“Led Zeppelin!”

“Oh. Right.” Steve huffs. “Cute.”

“I thought so.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“But you think I’m cute.”

“I didn’t—” Steve’s face heats. “Whatever.” He crosses his arms and nods at the plant. “Just— Tell me about Robert.”

Eddie grins, but he starts talking, telling Steve all about Robert, things Steve will maybe only half remember, hands gesturing wildly, and Steve gets lost in the daydream of a house filled with plants, and Eddie there to tell him all about them.

[harrypoppinss]

Empty promises

Kili Durin x afab!reader

Warnings: heavy angst, established relationship, mention of character death, pre BOTFA

Summary: With the battle closing in and Thorin fighting the dragon sickness, you seek comfort in your one.

—————

The past few days have been rough to say the least. You had successfully made it to Erebor, and it has been reclaimed by Thorin the only problem was that he had fallen into the same sickness that his grandfather had. The dragon sickness from the gold that was claimed by Smaug after the fall of Erebor all those years ago.

The Orcs were near, you had a feeling. Thankfully though, Kili had lived through getting a poisoned arrow in his thigh and he was now in Erebor with his brother and the others that had been comforting him through the incident. Now here you were, wandering the halls of Erebor in search for your one.

You had never known a castle to be so confusing until now, but luckily you had spotted your brown haired boy sitting along the gigantic hole in the wall, gazing out at the lost city of Dale. You walked up behind him, before gently taking a seat beside him and like clockwork, his hand found yours.

“How are you feeling my love?” You asked him, being his knuckles up to your lips as you kissed his hand softly before allowing it to fall into your lap, still grasping onto your own. Kili sighed as he moved closer to you, his head finding your shoulder as your head rested on his. “As well as I can,” he said in a soft tone, his gaze not wavering from the empty city infront of Erebor that used to be so full of life and love.

The two of you sat like that in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound reaching your ears was his gentle breathing and the sound of the crickets singing in the tall grass outside. As you gazed out into the landscape, you couldn’t help but let a feeling of pure fear wash over you. Soon you would all be fighting for you life against Azog and his troops for middle earth.

“Amrâlimê?” Kili said in a soft whisper, making you glance at him as he lifted his head off of your shoulder to meet your gaze. “Yes love?” You asked back, your free hand grasping his other one has your thumbs rubbed over his knuckles. His eyes fell to your hands before he lifted then back up to look at you. “Are you afraid to die?” He asked you, catching you off guard completely. You looked at him like he had grown two heads, he had just been on the brink of death with the arrow and he was asking you if you were afraid to die?

“Well…” you said as you looked back out into the now peaceful landscape that you knew would be filled with blood and death soon. Sighing softly you looked back at your lover, a sad expression covering your face. “I am,” you said after a moment, before you brought both of his hands to your lips this time, kissing his knuckles once more. “But, I’m more afraid of losing you to the hands of the Orcs.” You said as you dropped his hands back into your lap as his eyes scanned your face.

“Oh Amrâlimê,” he sighed with a soft smile as he saw the faint tears building in the backs of your eyes. He reached out, bringing you into his chest as his hand ran along your hair gently. You arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder, the tears fall from your eyes staining his shirt temporarily. “I will never leave you, not in death nor in glory,” Kili whispered to you softly. “I would rather spend a thousand lifetimes fighting for you than allowing myself to be taken away for you in such a way.” He finished, tears of his own spilling down his cheeks as he pulled away from the hug to rest his forehead against your own.

“Promise?” You croaked out, your eyes meeting his brown orbs as you watched the corners of the crinkle softly as he couldn’t help but allow a small smile to overtake his features. “I promise, in this lifetime and the next.” He said, before he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. If only he knew in the end, that the promise he made would have to wait until the next time you two meet again, until the next life when your souls will bound together as one again.

———————

Amrâlimê - My love; love of mine

[salt-ofthe-middle-earth]

Ok hear me out

Coppersmith/Brazier Thorin

I’ve seen plenty of fics where he’s a silver or goldsmith, and obvs it’s canon he’s a blacksmith, but I think it would be really interesting if he worked with copper??? Like he never truly pursued it, it’s more of a hobby pre-Smaug, but I like to imagine Thorin doing some cool copper sculptures. Plus, copper is not necessarily super expensive (from what my five second googling had told me) so post Smaug it’d be not too hard to get his hands on some and do a little crafting.

There’s no canon basis to this idea mind you I just like the idea of Thorin making some funky copper sculptures or something.

Plus, copper is great for cookware cuz it’s very good at transmitting heat and keeping it even. Which is great for Certain Hobbits

[blankdblank]

Hobbit/LotR Masterlist

* Thorin x Reader & Bilbo Masterlist

.

* Thorin x oc Masterlist -

Pre-Journey to Reclaim Erebor --- Mid Journey --- Inside Erebor - Dragon Sickness --- BotFA Centered/Destroy the Ring --- Post Reclamation

 Thorin Series -

Blue Mountains - Reclaiming Erebor --- Arranged Marriage - King Under the Mountain --- Fallen to ME

Thorin Modern AU - 

Modern AU --- Doctor AU ---  Coworkers AU --- Royals AU --- Neighbors AU

.

* Thranduil Masterlist - 

Thranduil Series  --- Dad/Husband Thranduil --- Reborn OC Queen --- Fallen to ME 

Thranduil Modern AU Masterlist

.

* Legolas-Glorfindel-Haldir-Elrond-Celeborn Masterlist

* Dwalin  - Dwalin Modern AU Masterlist

* Fili Masterlist -- * Kili Masterlist

* Eomer Masterlist --- * Boromir Masterlist

* Smaug-Bard-Ori-Balin-Beorn-Bofur Masterlist

.

.

Multi Pairing Series Masterlist

College Multi Pairing AU

Durin Modern AU

Elf Pairings

Durin Queen of Erebor Pairings

* Fili/Kili Masterlist

.

.

Wizard OC/Magical OC Masterlist

Vampire/Mermaids/Werewolves/etc Masterlist

Xmen Crossovers

.

No Pairing Masterlist

Holiday Masterlist - Fallen to ME Masterlist

Random Tolkien Masterlist

[middleearthpixie]

This was the artwork I commissioned, Baby It's Cold Outside done by the amazing ConsultingPacha for the #FotFicPinupCalendar2023 organized by @frosticenow.

and this is the fic (A Bit of Home) I wrote to accompany it...

A Bit of Home

Summary: The Hobbit, Post-Sack/Pre-Quest for Erebor 

You’re spending your first Yule with Thorin, but being that you are from this world and not Middle Earth, you miss Christmas as well. At least, you do until Thorin brings a bit of it to you

Pairing: Thorin x Fem!Reader

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, reader, 

Warnings: Nothing but fluffy fluff to be found here

Rating: G

Words: 2,742

***

Snow shifted softly through the trees, settling along the branches to dust them white. Here and  there, a cardinal showed through, their scarlet feathers looking like drops of blood against the stark background. The fire crackled softly on the hearth in the great room, and in the kitchen, where you stood, another crackled as well, a bit louder and the flames danced a bit higher, but it kept the kitchen warm enough.

It was your first Yule in Middle Earth and while you’d grown used to your new home, you couldn't help but miss your old one from time to time. The bouts of homesickness had lessened, of course, but you were fairly certain they’d never go away entirely, no matter how happy you might be now.

And you really were happy. It had taken some doing to convince Thorin you weren’t mad—after all, one could hardly fault him for thinking otherwise when he happened upon you, wandering about the woods not far from the village of Hamelin, wearing strange clothes he’d never seen before, and talking about things such as cell phones and the internet. You tried to explain the concept of a wormhole and falling through one to land in his place and time, but since you didn't really understand it yourself, you might as well have been talking Greek to him, as your mother would say. Still, the important part was how you managed to convince him you were perfectly sane and that you weren’t about to attack him or worse. He offered you a place to sleep for the night and you never left. Over time, he helped you settle in and things being what they were, you were now a couple. 

But as the holiday drew nearer, the homesickness worsened. No one back in your time, in your world, knew what happened to you. You were probably just considered missing and you tried not think about how worried your family must have been. Especially at that time of year. You wished you had some way to let them know you were alive and well and very happy, but since there were no internet connections or cell towers to be found, you could only hope they felt it somehow.

You tried not dwell, and Thorin was endlessly patient as he listened to you describe what Christmas was like, and at its heart, it really wasn't all that much different from Yule. Thorin smiled as you tried to describe Santa Claus, merriment dancing in his pale blue eyes as he said, “He sounds like Bombur, only taller.”

“And with white hair, instead of red,” you’d said in return. “And not nearly as quiet.”

He’d asked you questions about your traditions, explained to you about the dwarven ones, adding, “And if the time comes where Erebor is ours once more, the celebration will be even grander.”

Erebor. His ancestral home deep within the Lonely Mountain, whose throne he stood to inherit was now in the possession of a firedrake from the north known as Smaug the Terrible. Thorin spoke every now and again of returning to the mountain, of taking back what was rightly his, but at the same time, he seemed very content with the home you’d created for the two of you. He worked as a blacksmith to put food on the table and keep the roof over your head and while it wasn't the same as being a king, he did very well just the same. He was an artisan, and people came from all around to commission pieces from him in addition to purchasing the more mundane, everyday tools he forged as well. 

As the holiday grew closer, Thorin found himself working longer hours. More often than not, you ate supper alone and were fast asleep by the time he came home. He was up with the sun and gone before you awoke and while you understood, you missed him just the same and looked forward to the time when he’d keep more normal hours.

The kettle whistled to let you know the water boiled and you’d just plucked it carefully from the hook over the fire when there came a knock at the door. You set the kettle down and moved to the kitchen door to open it.

“Good morning, madam, I’ve a missive from the village for you.” 

He held out the folded sheet of ivory parchment sealed with a scarlet D, which made you smile. Why the deuce was Thorin sending you a missive when he could just come home and tell you? True, the cozy stone cottage was at the opposite end of the village, but it wasn’t that big of a village to begin with and the trip would take no more than twenty or thirty minutes, tops.

Even so, you thanked the courier and as he strolled off into the snow, you cracked the seal and unfolded the parchment. 

“Mesmel,

“Please come down to the village tonight at half-six. I’ve a surprise for you.

Yours, 

T”

Mesmel. Jewel of all jewels, he’d explained the first time he’d whispered it to you. Without fail, you smiled every time he spoke it, and did so now seeing it in writing. 

And a surprise? He wasn't much one for surprises, or of frivolity of any sort, really. He was stoic and serious and rarely smiled, although he seemed to smile much more often of late, even if it wasn't nearly as often as you’d like. 

Your mind boggled all the rest of the afternoon and as the time approached, you grabbed your sensible woolen cloak to draw about your shoulders and hurried out into the swiftly falling snow. The sun had begun its descent into the horizon and the air was crisp and cold, your breath a frosty cloud of silver vapor with each breath, swirling about you as you made your way from the stone cottage at the end of the lane to trek your way into the village proper. 

You smiled and bobbed your head at those you passed along the way. Hamelin was an eclectic village of Hamelin, with its mix of dwarves, Men, and even an occasional elf here and there. They all regarded you with suspicion at one time, but lately the smiles seemed more genuine and you didn't get the feeling they whispered about you behind your back nearly as often as they once had.

Thorin’s blacksmithy was at the far end of Stone Street, a large rustic wood-and-stone building from which plumes of smoke rose and the clang of steel meeting iron rang out the way church bells chimed. As you drew near, you not only heard the clanging, but felt it as the vibrations rippled through you with each strike of the hammer. It rose in volume, in a steady rhythm and you could almost picture Thorin there, at the anvil, hammer in his right hand, lifting it high above his head only to bring it down with incredibly force to slowly, steadily, shape the iron he forged into a gleaming blade that would soon be polished to a mirror finish when he was through.

The door to the front of the shop opened with the cheerful tinkle of the bell above it. The clanging stopped, then a deep voice bellowed, “Who goes?”

“Someone sent me a message requesting I stop by.”

“Mesmel.” You heard the smile in his voice as he said that one word. “Wait a moment whilst I clear up this mess.”

“What are you about, Thorin?” 

“You will see.”

“Thorin?”

“Trust me, mesmel.”

You sighed softly as you reached to unfasten the frogs at your throat and then whisked your cloak from around your shoulders. It was always so warm in the shop and today was no exception. Various dull scraping sounds and an occasional thud came from the back, each followed by, “Everything is fine, stay where you are.”

“Thorin, this is getting silly.”

“Very well,” he let out a heavy breath, “come back.”

You skirted the front desk, and made your way around toward the rear of the shop, where tools and works in progress were kept along with orders awaiting pickup. Along the rear wall was a hearth large enough for you to stand in, and while it normally had a raging fire crackling away, this one was now far smaller, casting enough light to give everything a soft, ivory glow.

But, instead of the tools of his trade being scattered about, the work area was tidied and you smiled at the small table, and two chairs he’d set up, which explained the scraping and thuds. Upon that table stood an elegant, if somewhat tarnished candelabra holding the stumps of candles, whose dancing flames belied the candles’ rather sorry state. 

A bottle of wine and two goblets stood together as well. The goblets didn't match, but you didn't care as you smiled at the sight. Your dwarf was not much one for overly romantic gestures on a regular basis, but when he gave into them, they were memorable, to say the least. 

He came out of the back room and you could only stare, a smile tugging at your lips as you took in the sight of him dressed in only his black, rough-hewn trousers and a red Santa cap set at a slight angle atop his head. In the gleam of the firelight, he looked beyond handsome—almost mystical, really—with the glow highlighting the swells of muscle along his shoulders and wrapped down about his arms. His long, curly black hair spilled over those broad shoulders and his smile reached his eyes, softening them to near sapphire.

“Thorin,” you said, draping your cloak over your forearm, “what are you about?”

“I know you miss your world, and your traditions and I know I’ve been running like a madman these last few weeks, but I didn't want you to think I’d forgotten how important those traditions are to you. Merry Christmas, I believe, is what you tell people in your world?”

You nodded, your throat tightening as tears stung your eyes. “Yes,” you managed to whisper, “we say merry Christmas.”

He stepped closer. He was tall for a dwarf and you were short for being of Man, which meant you were both the same height. The same height, but he was far broader across the chest and shoulders, and his legs were far thicker than yours would ever be. He was handsome and utterly perfect in so many ways and without thinking, you lay your hand against his chest, your fingers slipping through the soft, dark hair that curled away from his skin as it stretched from shoulder to shoulder and down over his firm belly. 

“Merry Christmas, amrâlimê.” He bent to you, his lips soft, his heavy, black beard shot through with hints of silver prickly against your skin. Those lips met yours, moved slowly against them, parted as the tip of his tongue swept between your lips to tease yours. 

You slid the hand on his chest up, around to his nape to pull him closer. Heat from his massive hands sank into you as he wrapped those powerful arms about you and crushed you close. He bent you back, his hands splayed against you—one on your upper back, the other cupped about your lower cheek.

His kiss was slow and teasing and deep and you almost sighed when he broke it and pulled back to press his forehead to yours. “I have a gift for you, mesmel,” he murmured.

“You mean, this isn’t it?”

A low, rumbling purr of a laugh bubbled to his lips. “It is not, no. But, I’m glad you think it could be.”

“You’re hot, Thorin,” you told him as he straightened up and stepped away from you. “You have to know that.”

“Everyone is hot in here,” he replied with a hint of a puzzlement. “Because of the fires.”

You smiled. Almost a year together and you still had to explain certain expressions to him. “Yes, that’s true, but you are hotter than anyone else in this room at any given time.”

A hint of color rose along his cheekbones, above the line of that thick beard. “I thank you for the compliment.”

As he spoke, he moved toward the workbench along the far wall. “I know I’ve been going like a madman lately, and you’ve spent far more time alone than you bargained for.”

“I understand. You’re in demand and rightfully so.” You looked about at the wall to your left, where there hung blades and axes of varying sizes and embellishments, from a simple, plain sword to those with finely etched and ornate handles encrusted with gemstones set in precious metals. “You’ve got a gift, you know. You’re more an artist than a tradesman.”

He looked up, his forehead furrowed beneath the brilliant white fur rim of his Santa cap. “They are not mutually exclusive, you know.”

“No, I didn't mean it that way. I just—you have a gift and it shows through in every piece you forge.”

His forehead smoothed, to your relief, and he bobbed his head. “Thank you. Dwarves take great pride in their trades, you know.”

“I do, indeed.”

He moved a few things about on the bench, muttering to himself in a language of which you only knew and understood snippets. Then, he snapped his fingers. “Aha! There it is.” He peered at you over one shoulder. “It’s so small, I thought I’d lost it.”

With that, he plucked up a small wood box and with his free hand, gestured to the table. “Sit, mesmel, and close your eyes.”

You did as he said, and as you sank into the straight-backed chair, couldn't keep from asking, “What are you about Mr. Durin?”

“You shall see. Keep your eyes closed.”

You knew he’d neared by the way the air stirred before you, carrying on it hints of steel, iron, leather, smoke, and man. Thorin’s scent. You would know it anywhere. Your heartbeat sped up for reasons you couldn't quite grasp. Butterflies fluttered in your belly and you didn't know why. 

“Open your eyes, amrâlimê,” came his tender whisper.

You did and you understood at once why your heart and stomach went wild. Thorin was before you, on one knee, and in his huge palm sat the small teak box. And within that small teak box, on a bed of rich black velvet, was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. It was simple and elegant, understated to the extreme—a simple square-cut sapphire surrounded by diamonds that were pure white and dazzling. 

“I know you miss your people,” he began, his voice low and growly, “and you miss your family but I was hoping that perhaps you and I might start a family of our own to make up for what you’ve lost. So, I was rather hoping you would say yes, should I ask you to marry me.”

“Thorin…”

He lifted the ring from its velvet cushion, the sapphire sparkling and throwing off flashes of light in all directions as it glittered in the firelight, and gently eased it onto your finger, saying, “Will you marry me?”

You couldn’t speak at first. Your throat squeezed too tight and your mouth was so very dry. Your hand shook and as you met his beautiful blue eyes, your own stung even as you nodded and managed to croak, “Yes.”

His eyes softened. His smile grew wider than any you’d seen in the entire time you’d been in his company and as you eased from your chair to sink to your knees before him, you slid your arms about his neck, and then you whispered back, “There is nothing to make up for, though, Thorin. What I’ve gained in return it far greater than anything I left behind and there is nowhere I would rather be than right here, right now, with you, my half-naked dwarven Santa Claus.”

He grinned, reaching up to sweep the cap from his head. “I forgot I wore it.”

“You wear it well, Mr. Durin,” you murmured as he gently pressed you down into the warm, if  slightly warped, floorboards. 

He hovered above you, eyes glittering in the firelight, and a moment later, the only sound was the soft crackle of the flames and your low sigh of utter pleasure. 

***

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[callme6olet]

What makes Arcane great: S1E3

This is it--the big one, the heart-render, the episode that I had to talk through in therapy because Jesus, was I not okay after watching this one for the first time. Season 1, Episode 3: The Base Violence Necessary for Change.

That title, it's a bit of a mouthful, but the episode does what it says on the tin. It shows us where everything went wrong, shows us what it took for the world to fall to pieces. The show could've been made to work without any of the first three episodes--in fact, I'd argue that this would be the conventional preference. It's best to conserve the amount of time and space a story takes up. If you can fit all the events into one day rather than two, do it. The writers could've kept the same narrative and avoided a six- to seven- year time skip. We would've gotten a good picture of who Jinx and Vi are from their re-introductions in episode 4. Hell, you could probably drop someone into that fourth episode with no context and they'd still understand and enjoy the show.

But storytelling is more than a set of rules. The grounding issue at the heart of the show is a discussion of privilege--a mature, empathetic discussion, not a manifesto or a handwave. It is not the story of a battle between two cities, but of the way that societal structures tear people apart and pit us against each other. That can't be accomplished with an unsympathetic villain. More than that, though, to do it well--to make the story stick, to create something that resonates--the show needs an antagonist who isn't a villain. Someone who we genuinely want to succeed, to live up to her potential, but who opposes the heroes. So, recognizing this, the writers gave us Powder and made us watch her go insane.

Here's my highlights from the episode.

Sudden and inevitable escalation

In prose writing, there's a lot of talk about discovery writers and outliners--people who find the story as they go, and people who plan it out beforehand. Film, as a medium, lends itself heavily to the latter style, both because of the intense demand for concision and the higher level of collaboration. Stories that are outlined, pre-plotted, tend to have a very satisfying feel in their structure. There's a moment when pieces come together, when everything starts to add up. Predicting the plot can almost become a minigame, an added dimension of entertainment for the viewer. The difficulty is making the plot both comprehensible and organic. Often, outliners wind up writing stories that merely ratchet up in tension rather than changing and evolving.

In the first two episodes of Arcane, we are introduced to a few plot threads. We see Jayce and Viktor's work topside, Vi and company's struggle with the law, and Silco's plotting. All three are clearly important, clearly escalating, but we don't have a clear expectation for when they'll cross over. It's the perfect setup for a sharp but not immerson-breaking escalation: Grayson and Benzo's death and Vander's kidnapping at the hands of Silco. There's enough set up for this to make sense, and Silco's introductory monologue about betrayal flags his storyline as the one to watch out for in this episode. At the same time, the writers manage to make this scene sharp and surprising by undercutting the audience expectations. While we're aware that the conflict is ramping up, we're also expecting this escalation to continue down the clearest path: Vi or Vander will wind up in jail. The Lanes will riot. But instead of the cops against the Lanes, we get Silco against Vander. The result is that we, the viewers, feel shocked but not betrayed. We got what we were told to expect, but the form it took was not what we had assumed. Nobody expected this.

Surprise is one of the easiest reactions to create in storytelling, but it's one of the hardest to pull off satisfactorily. Smaug showing up in Star Wars would be surprising; it wouldn't make any damn sense, so of course we wouldn't see it coming. Vader redeeming himself by killing the Emperor is satisfactory surprise. There's a thin line between the nonsensical and the merely unexpected, and Arcane skates down that tightrope by perfectly managing audience expectations.

Order from chaos

In the undercity, Silco is creating chaos in the hopes of propelling change in the form of rebellion: the Free Nation of Zaun. Topside, Jayce and Viktor are doing the exact same thing: cranking the hextech crystal to max oscillations in the hopes that it will stabilize. Typically for Arcane, this mirror plot works out well for Piltover and poorly for Zaun. Both groups are playing with powers beyond their comprehension, but those with privilege are rewarded for it while the have-nots die because of that same curiosity.

This suspended flight, hovering in the blue glow, mirrors Powder's fall later. We see the power of the arcane for beauty, and also for evil.

We also see some hints of Viktor's flaws in this plotline. He asks Jayce, "Do you think it was my life's ambition to be an assistant?" He has drive, passion, creativity, and a willingness to do what must be done. There is also a dark side to his ambition, though. Viktor, the outsider in Piltover, will always have something to prove. His worst mistakes will come about as a result of his own lack of privilege--a deficit which he has sorely tried to overcome.

Always ready to brawl

Once the kids (sans Powder) are in Silco's lair, the trap springs. Vi has to fight off Silco's goons while the others break Vander out. Powder, unbeknownst to them, decides that she will help by making a bomb out of the hextech crystals.

This sequence is great in terms of tension and escalation, but the standout to me, the flourish, is how grounded the fighting remains. We get to see Vi in her first real test, and she proves that she's everything she's cracked up to be, knocking out enemies twice her size with a single blow. It's great to see a competent protagonist. It makes us feel like we, the viewers, are adequately represented within the narrative by our surrogate, the hero. We aren't falling prey to stupid tricks. The difficulty is balancing character competence with realism, relatability, and danger. If this fight is too easy for Vi, she starts to look like a Mary Sue. But, no--she takes hits as she deals them out, goes down and has to get back up. And then, when she crosses a shimmered-out Deckard, she realizes she is far out of her league.

Too, Deckard manages to toe the line between villain cliches and verisimilitude. He's happy to gloat over Vi when he knows that he can bring her down, but when she starts to slide the door shut, he panics. He knows he's fucked up.

The same philosophy continues when Vander wades into the fight. We get to see him living up to his reputation. We get to see why he's afraid of his own fists, of his capacity for violence. At the same time, it never gets out of hand. He never becomes unstoppable. Hulked-out Deckard is a worthy opponent for him--and he can still be stabbed in the back. Then, when push comes to shove, Vander's final decision is artfully communicated: kill Silco or save Vi. Silco's escape doesn't feel forced because it wasn't a matter of beams falling or a bridge breaking. It was a matter of choice.

Time to say goodbye

We come to the core of this episode. The hard part. Trauma.

I once had a psychiatrist describe trauma to me as anything you walked away from thinking, 'things will never be the same.' That feeling is what this story so perfectly captures--the feeling of stepping over the line and having it all go wrong, of mistakes you can never go back from. Powder sees her friends in trouble, tries to help by sending in a bomb. It finally works, and when it does, the shrapnel kills Mylo and Claggor outright. The ensuing fight leads to Vander's death.

For me, Powder's story taps into a deep-buried fear: the fear that, by trying to help, I might irrevocably hurt the people closest to me. That I am broken; that my presence is a cancer. I think this is to some extent a universal fear, but it is perhaps most present in some of the circles that both Powder and I fall into: people with mental illnesses, people who have experienced codependence, and (in my case, though perhaps not in Powder's) queer people. We come to believe that we are defective, that there is something about us that is fundamentally wrong, that causes pain. That we are a jinx. Her experience here is like the dire, nightmare version of every neurodivergent's childhood social gaffs: you say or do something you thought was right, and when you act proud of it, people call you a freak. Worse, you realize that they were right, that you did cross a line you hadn't realized was there.

Powder sees the destruction, thinks it's beautiful. Feels pride. But also . . . something else, maybe. There is a vacancy to her expression which, to me, implies a buried fear. A buried understanding.

She even knocked Vi's toy loose. She did good. Right?

Or, Vi's childhood, such as it was--her remaining innocence--is lost now, thrown from the place where she so fearfully stowed it.

Powder finds Vi. Realizes what she did. Vi hits her, leaves her, and now Powder has to deal with the worst trauma of her life in the one way she's never learned: alone. So, when Silco volunteers sympathy, she latches onto him.

Vi, too, has her worst fear realized. After the explosion, she sees that Mylo and Claggor are not getting up. She can barely hold it together. Then, she sees a worse sight.

She knows where that monkey head came from. Knows that somehow, Powder is here, too. That her sister might have died while she, Vi, was powerless to protect her.

She has lost everything. Everyone.

It's worth noting, too, Vi's eyes in this shot--one blue, one grey. The show tends to use eye color to indicate characters' dualities. Powder, for example, has grey eyes, while Jinx has blue eyes (and, in her worst moments, purple eyes). My interpretation is that in Vi's case, it's a matter of expression and repression. When her eyes are blue, she is emotive, passionate, fully present. When her eyes are grey, she is buried beneath pain. I read this frame as a conflict, a tipping point: she is torn between the hope that Powder survived, that it might all still be okay, and the knowledge that every other member of her family is dead or dying.

Vi has built her relationship with Powder under the pretense that she is selfless, but in reality, she has only saddled her sister with all her hopes and expectations. As long as Powder is alive, Vi thinks, there is something in the world worth living for. There's a chance for things to get better. She hangs these hopes around Powder's neck in the same way she leaves her stuffed rabbit caught in the power lines. She claims that other people did it, that they stole from her, and she's right; but she also claims that she can't get it back, and that is wrong. Truth is, it's easier to keep those hopes close but out of reach than it is to chase them and embrace the possibility of failure. Vi refuses to live for herself because it's easier to offload that weight onto her sister. If she hadn't, then Powder might not have felt the need to prove herself, to live up to those hopes. She might not have made the bomb.

It all comes to a head when Vi realizes that Powder was the one behind this. She is torn between rage and love, the fury of loss and her endless sympathy for her sister, the one person on whom she hung all her hopes.

Vi's heterochromia persists through Vander's death, even--to my eye--through the moment when she first hears Powder's voice. But then, she puts two and two together. Asks, "You did this?" Both eyes go grey.

And then she hits Powder. Says, "I told you to stay away!"

It's an impossible moment. Vi has just done the one thing that she would never do--she's hurt her sister. She has been pushed to the point of breaking her prime directive, of proving to herself that she, fundamentally, is not the person she thought. We are shocked by Vi; we're angry that she did this, that she hit an eleven-year-old girl. At the same time, we don't hate her for it. In shattering her self image, Vi is doing irredeemable harm. It is an evil act. The yang in that yin, though, is the proof that she is not, in fact, defined by her sister. We recognize here that Vi is, for the first time since we've seen her, living for herself. If she had forgiven Powder immediately, hugged her and told her everything would be okay, it would've meant the death of Vi's own identity and volition. Vi should not have hurt her sister, but seeing the hurt that was done to her, as well as her genuine regret, I am able to forgive her.

Her eyes are blue. She is feeling everything. She realizes what she's done, what she still wants to do, and does the one thing she can to keep Powder safe: she leaves. Only for a second, she thinks--and then, her nightmare plays out, too. Vi is the other side of the codependent coin, is afraid of leaving Powder alone because something terrible might happen, because Powder needs her. And when she leaves, Marcus captures her. She cannot be the person she swore she was: her sister's protector.

Why it sticks.

The core of this show, of this episode, is Vi and Powder's codependence. And yet, I hold firmly that Vi and Powder are both blameless for their unhealthy relationship. They should, in fact, be lauded for it. They did not have the time, space, resources, wisdom, or support to deal with the violent death of their parents or the circumstances of their birth. They had an option between an unhealthy relationship based in love and a bitter, estranged relationship based in fear, and they chose the former. That's the correct decision. Every time. The reason we love both these characters is that they made that choice in the hardest moment of their lives. They are flawed, but in their hearts, both Vi and Powder are willing to choose love over fear.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ready to rec some awesome fics that I read this month!! Feel free to add on with some of your own Bagginshield recs. 😁

April 2024 Rec List

G Rated:

A Dwarven Beauty by bebel_bee (Complete, 4K, 1ch.)- You have to love cultural differences where it comes to the dwarven and hobbit concepts of beauty. Bilbo is getting a bunch of odd comments on his looks that he thinks are derogatory. This is such a fun, quick read with fun misunderstandings and a lovely getting together scene.

Green-Handed by lotus0kid (Complete, 41K, 20ch.)- This was a really fun magical hobbits fic. Under certain conditions, hobbits go "green-handed" which means they can grow anything through touch and that's how Bilbo finds himself one morning. The ending of this fic just gets me with how absolutely enamored Thorin is with Bilbo and his gift.

Ive found Frodo...and he found you? by Lucigoo89 (Complete, 2K, 1ch.)- I need to preface this by saying my house had an entire den of fifteen skunks living under it that we tried to relocate...I absolutely despise skunks. But I gave this a chance for Lucigoo and it was as predicted, completely adorable. Little skunk Frodo wanders off and when Bilbo goes after him, he finds him in a den of badgers, one of whom he knows rather intimately.

T Rated:

Burning Crowns by Morg47 (Complete, 9K, 2ch.)- I read the first chapter when this was just a one-shot craving more and the author didn't disappoint! Infamous thief Bilbo helps the rightful king of Erebor in his assassination attempt of Smaug. I love seeing a confident BAMF Bilbo, and apparently Thorin does too.

Frozen Heart by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze) (WIP, 14K, 5ch.)- This is such a unique AU with a compelling set up. Bilbo has been tasked by Yavanna to try to help Erebor out of its frozen state, and by extension its king. Very fairytale-esque with some great characterizations and interactions, I can't wait for more!

Imbalance by northerntrash (Complete, 10K, 1ch.)- This story genuinely shocked me! In this Hades/Persephone AU, it is Bilbo who is Lord of the Underworld and Thorin who is a plant life god. As cracky as that sounds, it actually legitimately works in this AU as Bilbo and Thorin rely on each other to make themselves better.

There and Not Back Again (or, The Saving of Erebor) by femmbingley (WIP, 178K, 52ch.)- There’s so much to say about this fic. Post-BOTFA dwarven politics where Bilbo has assumed the duties of the consort which makes things more difficult for Dain. I really love the characterizations and I just can’t get enough of this fic!

to feel you like a knife by queerofthedagger (Complete, 23K, 2ch.)- Thorin's POV absolutely shook me at the beginning as he describes seeing his three loved one laid up in cots. After Bilbo saves Thorin's life, he wakes up to find his memories prior to Laketown are gone. It was so well paced and absolutely delicious in angst with a happy ending.

M Rated:

Backs to the Wall by Conkers (WIP, 124K, 24ch.)- I held off on this fic for a long time, not because I was worried I wasn’t going to enjoy it, but because I knew how much it would have me foaming at the mouth. Missing the deadline, the Company splits up at Laketown with Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, and Bilbo remaining to earn some coin. I’m beside myself with the gentle, sweet moments of pre-Bagginshield that have me screaming.

E Rated:

The Burden of Choice by Fantasyinallforms (Complete, 56K, 12ch.)- I went absolutely feral over this fic! Bilbo and Thorin are arranged to marry each other, neither knowing who the other is, and they escape in the night and begin to travel together. There were just so many emotions throughout this fic, it was so well written!

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction (Complete, 254K, 31ch.)- It was time for another read of this wonderful story. Bilbo stays in Erebor to see them through the winter only to find himself in a courtship with the king and a plot to see Thorin off the throne. This is just the ultimate Bilbo remains in Erebor fic and definitely worth the read if you haven't already.

Theft by Erinye (Complete, 124K, 40ch.)- Another epic that I had to reread this month. For his part in the alliance, Thorin demands Bilbo be returned to the mountain to be tried for his crimes in stealing the Arkenstone. Although the deaths of Fili and Kili break my heart in this fic, the rediscovery of Bilbo and Thorin's relationship through sex and comfort makes this a great read.

[ally-holmes]

"I thought you were dead"

Day 19 of the 30-day short story challenge

Today's prompt: "I thought you were dead". Thorin apologies to Bilbo in what seems to be his deathbed, but it's not.

Fandom: The Hobbit. | Pairing: Thorin x Bilbo (pre-slash)

Words: 710

Also available on AO3.

Here it goes:

Quietness was far from the correct term to describe it. Calmness, perhaps, was better. Whichever it was, one thing was crystal clear: the roar from the battle had died down. Neither orcs nor mountain trolls survived the Battle of Five Armies because once their leader, Azog, had been killed, they'd lost all sense of cooperation, and in the havoc, they'd attacked each other, searching for a fast retreat. Wards, however, fled, abandoning their battle companions without a second thought. Thus, the three surviving armies tended to their wounded in improvised tents.

The elves had been reluctant to offer more help, especially since Thranduil had lost more people than he expected. They did, nonetheless. Dale ruins hosted Lake-Town survivors due to the sturdiness of their buildings. Not all of them were inhabitable just yet, and most of the ceilings had gone down since the first time Smaug attacked the city, but some were in decent condition, so the elves set spaces to care for the Men.

Inside the Lonely Mountain, Smaug's desolation and long stay were still fresh hence the resolution of putting up tents to tend the dwarven wounded until Erebor had been assessed.

Precisely, in the dwarven king's tent Bilbo had seen Thorin in agony for his battle wounds. Gandalf had shown himself pessimistic about his prognosis, and for Bilbo that was not ideal. Thorin apologized, feeling at the edge between life and death. He opened his heart forgoing his pride and begged for the halfling's forgiveness. Thorin knew Bilbo was a remarkable creature, yet the moment the hobbit forgave him without hesitation, he understood he'd been gifted with the most tender and affectionate of beings.

Thorin said his last words and Bilbo left the tent looking for a place where he could cry his heart out in peace. Gandalf will leave before winter becomes inclement for a journey, and Bilbo wished to be present at the funerals prior to their departure.

Enjoying his second pipe found him Balin. Luckily for Bilbo, he had stopped sobbing silently against his hands some time ago so there was no incriminating thing in his person. Balin knew, however. He was Balin son of Fundin.

"The lads are up and about."

Warmth spread in Bilbo's chest. "Fili had quite the fall," he stated with worry.

"We may not like it, laddie, but elven medicine is something else. Kili is lucid and ready to jump off of the bed," the idea brought a smile to the old dwarf's face. "Fili is still half-conscious. His pain has been dulled which has given him the wrong idea. Would you be so kind as to give them a little scold, Bilbo?"

Bilbo opened his mouth to protest finding it impossible to refuse such a petition. The boys were badly injured after a horrifyingly vile battle, their uncle had been killed, and their mother was miles away in the Blue Mountains. They had no one. He knew how terrifying that was as he himself had suffered it.

However, the most bizarre of things happened when Bilbo entered the king's tent where Thorin and his nephews had been brought after the battle. Fili and Kili's childish complaints paled in comparison to Thorin Oakenshield's.

Thorin Oakenshield, who was casting daggers at the unbothered elf tending a hissing in pain Fili.

Thorin Oakenshield, who made a face at the thing Oin was trying to make him drink.

Thorin Oakenshield, who–

"I thought you were dead." Bilbo's faint whisper set the tent in utter silence.

"Master Bag– Bilbo," Thorin corrected himself with something resembling tenderness. "I may have spoken in what we all expected to be my deathbed, but I want to assure you that I spoke the truth, my friend. I– I also… If you decide not to forgive my behavior now that I seem to be recovering, please rest assured that I respect your judgment and–"

"Oh, shut your mouth, you silly confounded stubborn dwarf!! I thought you were dead!!"

Confused glances were shared among the dwarves. The elf, however, bit their lips unwilling to smile at the halfling's antics.

"I apologize. I–"

Bilbo moved his hands stopping Thorin's unnecessary words. With that, Bilbo Baggins took charge of the king's tent and the line of Durin survived for many years.

The end.

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Series Masterlist

Pinterest Board | Spotify Playlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug. first meetings. age gap. pining. falling in love. love letters. true love. memory alteration. ice powers. elemental magics. trauma. attempt murder. blood and violence. swordfighting. near death experience. wargs. spiders. gandalf likes to keep secrests. saruman is a asshole. awesome galadriel.

first chapter: Thranduil traveled to a village that reported spider attacks with his army to protect those who need it, and accepted when a respected family offered their inn so his army could rest. He didn't expect to find a mage there. Or for the dam to break. [3K]

second chapter: Curious about last night's events, Thranduil dedicates his dawn to understanding who exactly you are. Accumulating questions and very few answers, you allow yourself to remember the past. Aerin, uncertain of your future, tries to make sure that you won’t be around to attract more attention to yourself. She should’ve known better than that. [4K]

third chapter: After being bitten by a warg, after almost dying, something changed. Something evolved. Things can't stay the same forever. You just didn't imagine they would change so fast. Or that Thranduil was as bad with goodbyes as you. [3K]

forth chapter: Letters are vessels capable of conveying so much. From the concern with survival, to the regret of having left. Letters speak of the most varied emotions, contain the most intrinsic truths, and are always written with someone in mind. It's a problem when that letter is read by the wrong person. But what can happens when it's read by right one? [3K]

fifth chapter: As the Enemy's actions became more and more clear, Thranduil discovers that there is a traitor among the free people. After an unexpected problem, you have to made a decision. [4K]

sixth chapter: It was a difficult choice, but Aerin made it for you. Now with nothing holding you back, you already had the answer Thranduil longed for: yes. Now your only concern is the anxiety about the reunion. [7K]

seventh chapter: Tomorrow came and became yesterday. In Woodland, you found more than just a roof over your head: you discovered a different way of living. And Thranduil also discovered something, a secret hidden by his own heart. [4K]

eigth chapter: A surprising invitation made you discover a different, incredible place hidden in Greenwood. You were glad that Thranduil showed you such a special place. But probably you were even more glad that he was there with you. [3K]

nineth chapter: Gandalf had his first good morning in ages. It ended as quickly as it started. [1K]

tenth chapter: As the world turned against Greenwood, Thranduil finally broke down. The broken pieces of his heart fell all over you. Would you ever be able to glue it back together? [2K]

eleventh chapter: Surrounded by pain and grief, Thranduil found himself willing to be something more simple than a king: he was just a man in love. [2K]

soon!

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @h0ly-fire @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @homewhereitsat @instantnoooodles @hungrh4yyy @scrumpdidlyuptious @mirandastuckinthe80s @linaaajackson

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[dejjablu]

Hi! I’m a-random-nerd, you can call me Star if you want. Saw you reblogged that post about wanting more asks so that’s what this is :)

I followed you for lotr stuff, and I was wondering what you think about the differences between the book and movie versions of the Hobbit?

I personally have only read the book (multiple times) and I’m planning on watching the movies, but from what I’ve seen (in posts) they added in a fair bit of characterization of their own for the dwarves and especially Thorin. Does that line up with your experience or do you think the movies stay pretty true to the book character-wise?

I’m free to talk about lotr and especially the Hobbit anytime if that’s soemthing you would also like :) hope you’re having a good day!

hii Star!! im so happy you decided to send an ask, it brings me so much joy!

and oh gosh.. i could talk about this topic for HOURS. if i honestly had the talent to formulate my thoughts into a whole video essay i would... but i shall do my best!

so i have seen both the movies and read the book (am rereading and reading in my native language) and i think i truly love them equally! they have a special place in my heart now ever since i randomly decided to rewatch the movies a couple of years ago now.

there is of course a lot of controversy surrounding the hobbit trilogy which i think is not quite fair compaired to the lotr trilogy. again am no expert in storytelling or filmmaking for that matter but as a simple fan and viewer i too can judge of what i like about the adaptations. and you are correct! they put a lot of characterization for the dwarves to make them into more like their own individuals and have personality. they are all so lovable and they did a really great job with them.. and especially getting thorin's story and presence across very well. from hearing the stories and thoughts from the cast of the dwarves especially, you can feel how dedicated they were to the job of bringing their characters and this story to life.

now the big controversy and difference of these films being the changes in the story, adding in characters that were not there originally and pre-production being a bit of a mess with warner bros. some major differences in desolation of smaug the most i think... that legolas is there, theres a love story between tauriel and kíli, some differences with bilbo's encounter with smaug, also the more emphasis of the arkenstone. now i know its also controversal of all the cgi in the film compared to the lotr trilogy but honestly, it was in an era when cgi was the big thing to have in movies in the 2010's i believe. it does not excuse from being a bit too much cgi when there could of been some practial stuff instead maybe.

but the films for what they are i think are really fun and entertaining and i wont pretend they are...to me they are really good in their own way as a tolkien book adaptation. so my biggest problem with the controversy being people who claim all the problems with the hobbit dont hold the same towards the lotr trilogy, that i mean with story changes that would deem it "not a faithful adaptaion", to me lotr trilogy is not really a faithful adaptation if you look at it literally, its really good because its made well in its own way the best they thought they could make it... but does not mean its perfect. the hobbit isnt perfect either, but again, its really good for what they managed to make from interpreting the original book. there as also another thing of that the hobbit didnt need to be a trilogy but honestly, being the massive nerd i am, i want that.. give me more.

now i could talk about thorin FOR DAYS even but to summarise for those who have to read all of this. i love how they made thorin in the movies.. a little different maybe how he is in he book, the thing about making him about middle-aged instead hasnt bothered me. the actor, richard armitage who has quickly become a favourite of mine, put a lot of dedication to his role as thorin from having a personal connection to the book and it just warms my heart seeing that love and care for it, from the whole main cast really.. i love them dearly. i saw the movies when they came out in theatre when i was a pre-teen and i was blown away from seeing it.. and years later when i found my way back again and reading the book as well, can't do anyhing but love it. it is not a faithful book-to-film adaptation but i think its really great, its linear and as the original plot points.. if you just want a fun watch i believe the movies are great, if you ever want to discuss if you end up seeing the movies, dont hesitate to come around again!

im sorry if i strayed too much from main question and ive tried to summarise the best i can.. i shall add on if i remember more things i could bring up! hope this was something to read at least! <33

[brambleheartthestrange]

Benedict Cumberbatch Birthday Week Day 3: Pre-2016 character

The one, the only, SMAUG! Guess this is my warm up for Smaugust lol

[starspray]

You have some stellar titles on that WIP list! Would love to hear something about Chase the Wind

Thank you! Titles are almost always a pain for me to come up with, but it's so satisfying when they're good!

And Chase the Wind is my Accidental Baby Acquisition fic! I think I wrote the first chapter for one of the SWG's Matryoshka challenges--yes, it was the X Marks the Spot one--and it was quite fun.

It's also a fic for me to flesh out yet another textual ghost, and eventually do some fun worldbuilding around Dale and the Lonely Mountain pre-Smaug. Just as soon as I get Elured and Elurin and the baby out of Rhun. And then to Rivendell, so Elrond can shake his head at them in fond exasperation. And then back across the Misty Mountains to the Long Lake.

The title comes from Touch the Sky from the Brave soundtrack.