#thorin romance

[middleearthpixie]

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

Like it? Love it? Reblog it! Comments are also welcomed!

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

[lathalea]

Entangled 2/10

The first question I'd like to ask you today is: Do you remember a little fic called The Best Day of My Life I wrote a while back? Don't worry, me neither ;) It simmered in my head and what started off as a standalone ficlet, grew into something bigger. Back then, it was written in the first-person narrative, but as it grew into a longer story in my head, I decided to change the subsequent chapters to the third-person perspective. This story was born from an inspiration I found when researching certain medieval traditions, especially when it comes to arranged marriages in royal families, and the role women played in these arrangements. It inspired me to wonder what it would look like in Dwarven societies of Middle Earth. I hope you enjoy it! 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). Special thanks for @legolasbadass for all your help and support 💙 ✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Entangled Masterlist

Khuzdul: Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor) Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd - King and Queen Under the Mountain

TA 2942, one year after the Reclamation of Azsâlul'abad

“Your Majesty, My Lady, brothers and sisters in stone, we have all eagerly waited for this moment,” The High Priest’s sonorous voice rang out in the festively decorated Great Hall of the Lonely Mountain. “May the Pleating Ceremony commence!”

It was happening. 

Mista swallowed. It felt as if the eyes of every single person present in the cavern were on her. As instructed earlier, Mista took off the veil that had covered her hair which was unbraided and adorned only with minuscule diamonds, and stepped stiffly towards the King. Her hands were clammy, and she tried not to stumble. The slippers and the opulent ceremonial gown she wore were incredibly uncomfortable and heavy. What a blunder it would be if she landed on the floor face down at that very moment! The court etiquette did not forbid her to wear her glasses, so at least she could see her surroundings clearly… including the crowds that gathered for the ceremony in the Great Hall. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, then something brushed against her temple. Mista flinched like a startled pony.

“No need to be alarmed, My Lady.” A low, rumbling murmur reached her ears. It was the King’s voice; she could have recognized his calm, confident manner everywhere. “Allow me to choose a suitable lock of your hair.” “By all means, Your Majesty,” Mista mumbled, feeling how close he stood to her, his arm brushing against hers, and how his fingers slowly ran through her hair. She did not know that a male touch could be so gentle. The only people allowed to touch her hair before this day were her mother, sister, and personal maid.

“Thank you, My Lady. Would you allow me to compliment you?” the King said and, not waiting for her reply, he  added. “I do not think I have seen such exquisite hair before.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself. Did the King himself truly think her hair was exquisite? A realisation dawned upon her. Of course not; he must have referred to its uncommon length, that was all. It was the only source of Mista’s pride — perhaps the colour of her hair was plain and common, but she had always kept it long, and currently it reached almost to her knees. And now, the King’s nimble fingers ran through it, once, twice, and then began pleating her hair slowly, each of his movements deliberate. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, but even then, she did not dare to open her eyes especially when the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, making her tremble at the sensation.

“It may help you to imagine that there is only you and me here.” His quiet voice reached her again. 

“Pardon?” Mista’s breath hitched.

“During straining official functions I tend to imagine that there are only stone statues around me, carved in amusing poses. It helps to tackle the nerves.”

Mista’s eyes fluttered open and met the King’s azure gaze. An encouraging smile danced on his lips moments before he returned to braiding.

“I did not know someone like you could feel… nervous, Your Majesty,” she heard herself say.

“My coronation felt ten times worse than facing the enemy during the Battle of the Five Armies.” His reply made Mista chuckle. His smile widened, making his handsome face even more alluring. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe, simply staring at him. 

Click.

The King clasped his bead around her new braid. Gold encrusted with onyx contrasted with the plainness of her mousy hair, but the pattern made it somehow more refined. She took the braid into her hand and admired its even, elegant weaves.

“It is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

The King gave her a thankful nod. Mista felt his intent gaze on her. His Durin’s apple bobbed. Something was not right… Why were his features so tense?

It took her a moment to understand. With her cheeks burning, she took a step towards him. How could she have forgotten that now it was her turn?

“May I…?” Her voice failed her, but no words were necessary. The King lowered his head towards her, his hair flowing freely in front of her eyes. 

With trembling fingers, she picked a thick lock of hair on his left temple and divided it into four parts. His hair was smooth and thick, making her think of a wolf’s fur, but it smelled like sweet oils from faraway lands in the South. Mista wanted to keep on braiding it for as long as she could. She thanked Mahal that she knew her personal pattern by heart — otherwise, she would have surely entangled his hair or ended up with a bunch of knots instead of the braid. Focused on plaiting it, she forgot about everything around her — there was only the King, Thorin, the Dwarf who unknowingly captured her heart a long time ago. Now, with every weave, she was willingly bestowing her whole self upon him.

Her bead was made of bronze and tiny sapphires from the Blue Mountains. For some reason, it refused to close around the King’s braid, making Mista sigh, but then one of his large, warm hands encircled her fingers that held the bead, and pressed it harder together. 

Click.

It was done.

Mista’s heart beat faster and faster as the King Under the Mountain took her hands into his. They were facing each other in a way that allowed everyone gathered in the Great Hall to see them from the side.

“Foreheads,” the High Priest whispered, barely moving his lips, holding something in his hands that glinted in the light of hundreds of lanterns.

The King squeezed her hands gently and lowered himself towards her once more. Mista took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes so that their foreheads could meet.

His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his nose brushed against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but the last thing she saw were his lips, slightly parted, and so close, so very close to hers, and there was his beard too, and she wondered how it would feel if…

“What Mahal has joined over the marriage anvil, no power shall break apart until the end of days,” the High Priest exclaimed, his voice loud and clear, like the sound of a gunmetal bell, drowning all of her inappropriate thoughts. 

“Thorin, son of Thrain, Mista, daughter of Milva, you are now husband and wife. Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd!”

Loud cheers filled the spacious cavern as the white-bearded priest bound their hands together with a thin but unbreakable mithril chain — a symbol of the eternal bond they forged a moment ago. This was one of the most revered traditions of Mahal’s Children: Dwarves married only once. Mista read a treaty once that explained the origin of this ancient tradition: one of the oldest Dwarven legends said that each of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves had one spouse, and that each couple was made from one piece of stone, destined to be always together, as one mind, body, and heart. A long time had passed since Mista was an overly romantic lass who believed that each Dwarf had their beloved Other Half somewhere in the world. Now she was over one hundred and thirty years old, and during her lifetime, she saw too many dalliances, clandestine affairs, and broken promises to believe that her people were capable of loving only once and only the right person. Dwarves were a fiery race, with molten lava running in their veins rather than cold pieces of rock. Nevertheless, their marriages were the cornerstones of society, crucially important to every family, and so a wedded couple was supposed to be like a rock: steady and unbreakable. That was Mahal’s will, as the priests said. Therefore, the dissolution of marriage was impossible. If a Dwarf broke their marital vows — which, as dishonourable as it was, happened from time to time — they would still remain married to their spouse. Even death did not end it, as her people believed that they would remain married even in the afterlife, in the Halls of Awaiting. That was why Dwarven courtship would often last many years so that the future spouses had ample time to know each other well before they made this irreversible decision.

Mista’s courtship lasted one month. That was how much time Lord Tair, her father, needed to finalise negotiations with the King Under the Mountain. During that time, she never saw her future husband. That was to be expected — the Blue Mountains were almost half a world away from King Thorin II’s kingdom, Azsâlul'abad. Instead, his envoys arrived with the marriage contract signed in his own hand and a chest filled with customary gifts for his future bride: jewellery, hair combs, and a traditional courtship cloak. There was also a letter addressed to her. It contained all the obligatory niceties along with His Majesty’s apology for his absence due to the fact that his kingdom was being rebuilt and needed all of his attention at the moment. He assured his bride, however, that he was looking forward to meeting her in person and offering her as much hospitality as he had received in Tumunzahar years ago.

He remembered.

Over one hundred years had passed, and he still remembered his visit to her home city. Precisely like Mista. She never forgot how gallant and handsome he was, how his words dried her tears, and how he made her feel as if she, the ugliest girl at the feast, were the only woman in the whole world.

Perhaps that mawkish idea of Dwarves finding their Other Halves was not true, but she was certain of one thing: she still loved the same Dwarf as she did all those years ago. Her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

And now she was his wife. Her eyes were still set on the glistening links of the mithril chain that joined her hands when she heard the High Priest’s words.

“My King, My Queen.” He bowed with reverence, “It is time for your wedding feast.”

The only thing she could think of at that very moment was how good her hand felt in her lord husband’s reassuring hold.

***

The feast that celebrated their nuptials was an event like no other. Mista had never seen any revelries that were full of equal splendour. Countless guests from all seven dwarven realms were entertained by minstrels, musicians, dancers, and other performers. The food was delicious; wine and other liquors flowed endlessly, like the River Running, and everyone was merry. Mista sat on a grand chair placed on the King’s right hand. Now, both of them wore their crowns and royal insignia, and together, as the newlywed ruling couple of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, they accepted countless toasts and congratulations from the well-wishers throughout the evening. Mista tried her best to act with decorum worthy of the queen she had become hours ago, and she even managed to appear unflustered whenever the customary “May Mahal bless your union with countless heirs!” reached her ears. 

From time to time she managed to steal a glance at the King’s – her new husband’s – majestic profile, struggling to believe that this day was not a dream. But then she remembered the marriage braid hanging at her temple – and a similar braid in his hair. She truly was the great Thorin Oakenshield’s wife.

It was two bells after midnight when the weariness started to creep up on her.

“Is the feast to your liking, lady Mista?” the King turned to her, clearly noticing her attempt at stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it is! Forgive me, the celebrations took a toll on me, I’m afraid,” she explained, feeling the growing heaviness of her crown on her temples.

“It is perfectly understandable,” Princess Dis, the King’s sister, said. “It has been a long day. Perhaps it is time for you to repose.”

“May I…? Does the protocol allow it?” Mista took a hopeful look around the Great Hall where the feast was as lively as it was at its very beginning.

“May I remind you that now you are the Queen?” the King offered. “You may leave whenever you wish to do so.”

“And my brother will accompany you,” Princess Dis interjected, and then addressed the King. “Tonight you are only allowed to leave together.”

Mista caught a strange look they exchanged, and – after a noticeable pause – King Thorin said, “Very well.”

“Shall we, then?” He rose from his chair and held out his hand to Mista.

Leaving the Great Hall was not as easy a task as Mista expected. They had to endure another round of the official farewells, wedding toasts and felicitations from their numerous guests.

“Have a wonderful night!” Princess Dis exclaimed in a sing-song voice as they were stepping over the threshold.

“Aye, and a long one, too!” Dwalin, the King’s Captain, added, and they both laughed.

Their words sounded innocently enough for Mista at first, but they made the King clear his throat in visible embarrassment. 

And then it dawned on Mista. One more thing awaited her.

The wedding night.

✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Masterlist 💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Special taglist for people interested in the continuation: @quiall321 @exhausted-humxn-being @sassenachlou @tinfro @unknownvirgin

@littlesweetdressmaker @shiinata-library 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

@evenstaredits @sotwk littlesweetdressmaker @alwayssevvy @sleepycreativewriter @emmanuellececchi

@I-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @asgardianhobbit98 @justfollowtheroad @therealpizzaplanetdeliveryguy @sverdgeir

@blackqueengold If you see your nickname in bold, it means that tumblr doesn't allow me to tag you any longer. Please DM me.

[verkomy]

there’s something so poetic about thorin oakenshield, king under the mountain, fearless leader of the dwarves being soft, gentle and head over heels in love with the most precious of all treasures that there is to him, mr. bilbo baggins

[retellingthehobbit]

Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins, in The Hobbit comic adaptation Chapter 1:

vs Chapter 15!:

[rattyoakenbitch]

꒰ general otp dialogue prompts ꒱

cw - angst, allusions to suicide

"is this okay?"

"you look so beautiful.. even with all the bruises"

"just because you're a couple years older than me doesn't mean i'm a little baby!"

"you.. have a crush on me?" "yyyessss.." "jeez, did you bump your head?"

"what the fuck is this?"

"you should steer clear of people like me. you deserve better."

"shh, they're finally sleeping"

"you're so good to me and i.. i don't understand why"

"you're so beautiful" "and you look like a frog" (lovingly)

"i know what'll fix this.. where's my tattoo/piercing equipment?"

"i don't see myself living past 25 and i don't intend to."

"i'm sorry i don't know why i'm crying i just-" hiccup

"dammit, [name], i/we don't want you to die!" "well i do! i do!"

"you are the human embodiment of sunshine, y'know that?"

"you just had this lost puppy look on your face and it was impossible not to fall in love"

inbox open!

if you use any of these prompts, please tag me! i'd love to see your work :)

[shantismurf]

You might not be following @tickles-ivory 's latest Modern Middle Earth AU, but you really should be!

I had the joy and privilege to brainstorm plot a bit with her the other day and her marvelous Metallica-inspired rock star!Thorin / bodyguard!Bilbo modern Middle Earth AU just became an honest to God Dan Brown thriller. It was already just dripping with romance, and now it's zinging with intrigue and danger as well! This is going to be a fantastic story!!

Bilbo turned away from it and faced Thorin, capturing his gaze with his own determined one. “Without fear, there is no courage. Before this is over, you and I are going to have ours tested. I don’t want you to worry too much, just be safe, okay? I’ve dealt with these people before and I know how they think.” “Okay,” Thorin said slowly, as if the bad news was just beginning to sink in. “Are you going to tell me what the note says?” “I can give you the gist of it,” Bilbo answered. “Basically, it says that you have been chosen to be a gift to Morgoth and that your death will provide his freedom.” “Who the hell is Morgoth?” Bilbo exhaled forcefully. He didn’t necessarily believe in destiny or fate, but a little voice inside his head told him that he had been placed here specifically to save Thorin’s life. Deep down, a growing realization hinted that he might be the sole individual capable of doing so.

[doodleferp]

Hobbit wife hobbit wife hobbit wife

[classycorekid]

notebook dump

[nine-of-needles]

Of Ravens & Thrushes (WIP)

The first chapter of my new WIP is up on AO3! Wanted to try my hand at a The Hobbit fic and wanted it to feature everyone's favorite barely-mentioned character, Dís. This first chapter is more of a prologue but I hope to have the next chapter up very soon and will post updates here on my Tumblr.

Summary: Lady Dís arrives at the now reclaimed Erebor only to find that her brother is in extremely low spirits. The hobbit Thorin loves lies across Middle Earth in the Shire, leaving the great King feeling hollow under the mountain. In an attempt to restore their relationship, she decides to throw an extravagant Durin’s Day celebration and invite Bilbo to the great kingdom he helped restore. After years of rambling all around Middle Earth’s inns and taverns, the dwarven musician, Amâ, decides to settle in her old home of Erebor just in time for Durin’s Day. There she is met face to face with the dwarrowdam, the fair Lady Dís, who she believed to be her One so many years ago.

Warnings: None

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairing: Dís / Original Female Characters, Thorin Oakensheild / Bilbo Baggins

Tags: Everybody Lives AU, Romance, Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Matchmaking, Fade to Black, Not Actually Unrequited Love

[catyo90]

25. Trying to seduce one another

Could you do this with kili x female reader where kili keeps trying to seduce reader but she finds his attempts absolutely hilarious and he is hopeless at it and he eventually gives up and she's like what we're you even trying to do and he's like seduce you if that wasn't obvious cue more laughing from reader but then she admits that his attempts were unnecessary because she's already in love him ?

Kili x F!Reader: The Art of Seduction...

  (Hope this meets your idea. This was a sweet idea to mess with though this is new to me in a sense. LOL)

 Kili still remembered the first time you met. He'd been having an argument of some sorts with his brother when he caught sight of you from across the training area causing him to become enthralled by your beauty.  He remembered how Fili once he caught sight of you with a small groups of other girls walked over with him and pushed him forward causing him to blush. 

-

Your initial impression was that he was possibly an idiot.  A cute idiot. However, as time passed, you found yourself taking quite a liking to him.  He was actually very thoughtful, brave, and dedicated to his duties, though he wouldn't openly admit it.

What you don't remember is when you finally realized you were in love with him. It seemed that one day you had simply woken up, gotten breakfast, and were waiting, when you found yourself desperately hoping that he'd drop by and visit you before he left with his brother to hunt.  Then, you sort of had an epiphany and realized that you'd been feeling that way for weeks on end. Wasn’t any wonder why?  The man was absolutely charming, amusing, skilled with a blade and even more with a bow.

Too bad he never thought that was how you felt. He always seemed to be on edge around you or at least nervous but you never thought much about it until that day.

-

    He'd been getting ready in his room, putting on his armor with the skill that he’d been building up for years, when he'd heard what sounded like someone knocking on the door but no words were said. Confused, he'd finished dressing and poked his head out, Startled, you'd backed up, when you watched him raise an arm to the doorway with a smile looking down at you and said hello in a deep voice. Instead though it came out a bit broken and awkward, You couldn’t help but giggle and told him he should hurry to get some breakfast before going off for the hunt with his brother.

“So...that was you big idea brother? Just to pose and say hey?”

“Well it works when Uncle Thorin does it...I thought maybe it would work on her.”

“That trick only works for Uncle because of his voice. Your hopeless little brother. I don’t see why you can’t just tell her how you feel.”

“Because I don’t wanna mess it up Fili...If I were to tell her I would want it to be perfect. Besides she deserves to be wooed.”

Fili sighed as he focused preparing for the hunt. Kili though couldn’t help but wonder what to try next when they returned but his mind was drawing a complete blank. Maybe he would do better by just asking you if you would be his. On the way to the gate Kili looked up to see you waiting. A sight he truly was always happy to see, a sight you could look at all his days. Both of them walked over to you seeing you read to join them and smiled as Fili noticed you with a pair of warm ale

“You both needed something to warm you up before we head off for the afternoon.”

“Well, don’t give this one too much he could never handle his drink.” Fili said smacking Kili on the back with a smile. Kili chuckled it off and looked at you.

“You know Y/n there are more ways to stay warm...” He said taking a gulp of the ale and looked down offering the goblet back to you.

“You could always keep me warm.” He said with a wink but you couldn’t help but smile as Fili started laughing. Kili looked so confused as he watched you bring a hand to his mouth wiping off the foam mustache he gained from drinking the ale so fast. He was about to speak.

    "Kili," someone said on the path out into the woods, looking ahead to see his uncle and Dwalin with their bows at their side with a doe flung on Dwalins back. Thorin seemed a bit puzzled and a bit irritated as he looked at both him and Fili.  

"Fili," he said, sounding as though he were gently scolding them pair as if they were children, 

"I thought I'd sent word for you two to scout out the wilds an hour ago.  What are you still doing here?  Surely not bothering y/n and distracting her from her own duties?"      They both shook their heads quickly, eyes flitting down and then back up to their uncle  

"N-no!  Us?  Of course not!  We were just . . . leaving and we were wishing each other good luck  out there, you know?” Fili said quickly trying to hide the goblet of ale behind his back. 

“It's been awfully dangerous with all sorts of nasty goblins and orcs and what not.  A little boost in morale never did anyone harm." Kili said smiling rubbing the back of his head.     Thorin and Dwalin both watched the two to of them for a second in silence.  "Right . . ." Thorin said, slowly drawing out the word, showing his clear skepticism.  

"Well, I'm sure she appreciates it very much.  Now, go do as I've told you, and let her finish getting ready."  He then directed his attention to you. 

"Y/n, head into the wilds to find any signs of survivors from past missions, undamaged supplies, and any more useful ingredients for the healers. Alright?"

"Yes, your highness" you said, nodding your head respectfully.     Thorin nodded in return brining a gentle hand to your shoulder in respect, looking satisfied that at least one of his recruits was serious about their work.  

"Good.  Then I'll leave you to it."  With that, he turned around, pausing to look at Kili and Fili in silence once more and seemed to get the hint and cleared his throat.

"R-right!  I'll just be going on along now."  But Kili turned to you, leaning in slightly close, and he found it difficult not to let a blush overtake him as he caught scent of your sweet fragrance. He wondered if you’d been using something new to wash with, it smelled of honey and ginger making him smile to himself.

 “Y/n” he whispered urgently.  " Maybe you can meet me when you return later this evening behind the tumbled pillar up the stairs next to where the gardens are. Don't tell anyone we're meeting there.  Just say that you're tired and are feeling unwell and are going to return home,-”     "Kili!" Thorin exclaimed, causing him to flinch.     "Alright!  I'm going!  You don't have to sick anyone on me, look!  I'm walking away from the nice lady!" he said, putting up his hands as he backed away before turning and booking it as Fili sighed and smirked toward you at his brothers antics, leaving you to stare off after him in confusion and wonder.

- You had rounded a bend on the trail, around a thick copse of swamp trees and boulders, leaving you to hang back and survey the path behind you again for any signs of being followed.  You were still looking when you heard a snap of some branches ahead of you. When suddenly you heard a familiar voice from above.  "Hey there, Y/n  Nice weather we're having tonight, don't you think?"

"Oh yes, it's incredible.  You should get a load of it from down here."

You couldn’t help but smile as he jumped down from the few boulders and joined next to you. He simply smiled as you as brought your bow over your shoulder as you looked around.

“Where’s Fili?”

“He scouted a few deer nearby, seemed to be alright with me checking up on you.”

“Well luckily no worries on my end. Perhaps we should head back.”     On the walk back, Kili had taken up walking close beside you, and matched your pace.  He was silent now, and you found that surprising.  Normally he was a regular chatter box, but now he was quiet.  Glancing over at him you found his expression to be...nervous?  

While you were distracted by your thoughts, you failed to notice him hesitantly reached out and put a hand on your upper arm.  You looked to him, snapping out of your reverie, and blinked, perking up.  "Hmm?"    "Uh, Y/n?  I...I need to tell you something," he sighed.    "Oh?"  You looked a bit nervously at him, brows furrowing.  Was something wrong?     "Yes," he murmured, and slowed, you too slowed your walk and tilted your head a bit.     "Okay, well, what is it then?"     He took a deep breath.  "Right.  What is it, indeed.  Um, hh-"  He took in a breath, a hand moving to the back of his head.  "How...how do you say these things?" he wondered aloud.  "Y/n" he said after a moment, shyly looking to you.  You nodded, showing him that you were listening still.  He blinked a few more times and took another breath.  "Um, today...I...uh, actually, for awhile now, I . . . I've wanted to tell you . . . something.  Something important." He said as he took one of your hands in his and gently squeezed it. "Yeah?" "Yeah.  You see, I...”

Suddenly the ground began to shake as you both saw that a large herd of deer charged past the two of you and caused you both to hide behind one of the bigger oak trees causing both of you to catch your breath. You both saw and heard Fili running past both of you yelling out to both of you shooting after one of the deer's.

“Sorry about that guys...Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You looked up at him once the herd had passed by and looked up at him to see that he had covered you with his body in a protective stance.

“Y/n...Are you alright.”

You nodded as you noticed all the loose leaves on him had gotten stuck in his hair. He looked down at you and saw you smiling for a moment before laughing hard at the sight and sighed as he brought a hand up to hair in slight annoyance.

“Oh for Mahals sake I give up.” Shaking off the leaves from his hair. As he groaned to himself crossing his arms.

“Wait...wait Kili. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh. What were you trying to do?”

“Seduce you Y/n. I’ve been trying for days now but you never seem to catch on...I mean all I wanted to do was to show how much I love you.”

You were completely speechless.  You almost couldn't process anything that you just heard--it was all too good to be true!  This man, this wonderful, amazing, god of a man actually felt for you the way you felt for him. Kili seemed to be put off by your silent awe, and winced a little.  

"I... said something wrong, didn't I?"  He sighed, looking cross with himself.  "I am so stupid.  What right have I to honestly believe that someone like you would actually feel anything for someone like me?"     He started to turn away when, before you could think about what you were doing, you grabbed his arm and pulled him toward you.  His eyes went wide and he was about to ask what you were doing, when you surprised the both of you by kissing him on the lips.  He went rigid, turning brighter red than before, now matching your own blazing blush, and slowly let his eyes close.  Tilting his head, he put a hand behind your neck, keeping you close to him as you both shared a delightful moment of blissful affection.     When you both broke the kiss for air, you found him gazing into your eyes softly, smiling gently.  

"Y/n.  How long have you been wanting to do that?"

You laughed breathlessly.  "Probably as long as you."

He chuckled back, You glanced up at him again, and found him gazing back at you, eyes half-lidded.  

"Y/n/ I suppose I'm right to assume that you . . . "    "That I feel the same?  Yes. You are."  You grinned, voice lowered.  "I love you, Kili. I always have.

He smiled as he brought his forehead to yours taking a deep breath as you looked up at him and asked.

“I guess none of the failed seductions were really required huh? “ You said with a smirk

    "Yes," he admitted, embarrassed.  "And only now have I realized how stupid that was of me.”

    You were overtaken by another fit of laughter and shook your head. You started to walk away from him and turned around and smiled

 "You adorable, handsome fool." you said winking to him as you walked ahead.     "Hey." he called from behind you.  "You're leaving out ruggedly good-looking and luckier than every other dwarf alive to be loved by you!" he said running after you as you laughed as he followed after you into the sunset. Into another day together. 

[rusty-metal-sword-from-1434-bc]

Things I do if I have a crush on you

talk with a much softer voice than normal

stumble over my words

compliment your accomplishments and your clothing (no matter how imperfect it may be)

try to find ways to talk to you alone away from the rest of my friend group

feel invisible around everyone else, but not around you

feel the heat rise when i'm around you

fail to give a straight answer to even super clear questions like "what is your name"

cherish every cool rock i find in your house

CONCLUSION: bilbo had a crush on smaug

[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

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo

@lathalea @legolasbadass @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically

@guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321

@dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith

@asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @night-ace @lyl1pad

@mistresskayla-blog1

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.”

[justjbeboriginalo]

Don't Die This Time

Kili Fanfic

Kili meets a girl who has to go along on their quest on Gandalf's request. The girl captures his attention from the first time they meet and they grow to love each other over the course of the quest.

Pairing: Kili x OC female who can control nature

Chapter 5: Pain Part 1

Warnings: Death (Orcs)

Gaia stumbles around, unable to stay upright. A heavy fog pushes down on her and she struggles to breathe. As she falls to her knees, her hands shoot out to the ground. She searches for something to hold onto. A disgruntled voice booms through her ears and her head snaps up. A familiar figure floats to her, surrounded by a darkness that follows it.

Sauron.

Gaia jerks awake which causes her to slip down the rock she was seated on. She rubs her face and lets out a groan. She hates being in the Mirkwoods. The sickness that lies upon this forest is similar to one she is already familiar with.

The Necromancer at Dol Guldur might be more than what she is prepared for at the moment.

“I already told you- “

“Shut up, I already told you that we need to go around. The road will be there. Not here,” Ori shouts at Dwalin, “you daft dwarf.”

“Don’t you dare- “

Gaia pushes her hands to her ears, cutting off the foul comments of the fighting dwarves. They have been at each other’s throats since they lost the road.

She told them that she could locate the road, but none of them listened to her. They have been shouting and cursing at each other for who knows how long.

Her eyes search for Thorin in the fighting crowd, but he is not part of the crowd. He is standing a few steps away from them, staring at nothing in the distance. Why has he not put a stop to this fighting?

Sauron.

Gaia shakes her head, trying to rid the memories from her thoughts. Why, of all places, does she have to remember her past in this forsaken place?

She turns her attention to the dwarves and catches Bilbo trying to break up the fight, but he fails to succeed.

An elbow shoots out which hits Bilbo’s head and he falls to the ground. The dwarves continue their fighting, sending trampling feet in Bilbo’s direction.

She shoots up and hurries to stop them from squashing Bilbo.

“Oi, stop it,” she shouts, making her way hurriedly to Bilbo. They ignore her and this causes her blood to boil.

“Stop it,” she shouts again. This time, her words are accompanied by a strong wind which sends the dwarves flying in different directions.

She crouches next to Bilbo, inspecting whether he got hurt in the process. Bilbo gestures that he is fine and she stands up.

The dwarves are spread out on the forest floor, groaning and grunting.

Gaia grabs a loose vine from a nearby tree and rushes to the closest dwarf, Dwalin. She wraps the vine around his middle while she helps him up.

“What was that for?” Bifur asks, trying to stand up. Gaia kicks his legs from under him when she passes him, making her way to Balin.

“This forest has you lot fighting. This is exactly what Gandalf warned us about, but do you listen? Do you ever listen?” Gaia asks, more of a rhetorical question.

She wraps the vine around Dori, Nori, and Ori before stopping next to Bifur.

“We- “

“No, shut up. I do not care about your silly excuses. Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves,” she mutters as she wraps Bofur and Bombur. “You have lost a lot of time in this cursed forest. I will not stand by and watch you fail this quest because you act like children.” She wraps the vine around Dwalin and Balin.

“Gaia is right,” Thorin interjects, “We have been wasting our time here. You all know we only have one chance.”

Gaia stops from wrapping the vine around Fili and Kili, bowing her head to Thorin to show her support.

“So, get in line,” Thorin orders the remaining dwarves. They all scramble to get in line behind Fili and Kili.

“You know how to get back on the road, right?” Kili asks in a whisper. Gaia nods, finishing wrapping him. “Do you need any support?”

“No, but thank you. Just keep them under control,” she whispers with a wink to Kili. He flashes a smile and bows his head.

After Gaia has finished wrapping the vine around the remaining company, she guides Thorin to the front where she also wraps the vine around him. She lets the vine wrap around her arm before she thickens the vine.

There is no way they will be able to escape from these restraints.

Gaia removes her shoes and throws them into her bag before relishing the feeling of life beneath her feet. She closes her eyes at the vibrations of the forest.

With a determined huff, she feels for the different vibrations. The trail has a different feel to it than the soil and grass they were stuck on.

She easily finds the trail they lost and leads the dwarves on the trail.

After a while, the dwarves start to converse and some even break out into song. She glances over her shoulder at the company and notices Kili singing along with the rest.

A smile ghosts over her features.

She turns her head to the front and listens to them as they sing and joke around. The sickness of the forest does not seem to have an effect on these dwarves anymore.

The river comes into Gaia’s view and she hurries to the river, wanting to escape the darkness of the forest.

She leads the company out of the Mirkwood and stops them next to the roaring river. The vine slips from her arm, letting go of the rest of the company. The company starts to celebrate and Gaia laughs softly at their antics.

Dwarves.

“Thank you.” Thorin’s voice is deep next to her. Gaia turns to him and inclines her head at him.

“We got out,” Kili shouts as he runs over to them. He throws his arms around Gaia, pulling her in for a hug. She lets out a laugh into the embrace.

He slowly lets go of her, his hands coming to a rest on her arms.

“Thank you. For getting us out,” he says with a small smile. His hands squeeze her arms and she smiles warmly at Kili.

“You are welcome.” Kili lets her arms go before he turns around, rushing to tackle Fili to the ground. Gaia laughs at them.

A familiar vibration catches her attention. How did THEY make it through Mirkwood? With the help of none other than the one who placed the sickness on that forest.

“Orcs!” she shouts while she runs to the company, trying to get their attention. “Run!”

Balin is the first to start running with Fili short on his heels.

Kili spins around while his eyes search for Gaia.

“Kili, run,” she shouts, gesturing for him to go.

As Kili starts to turn to run, an arrow flies past Gaia. It pierces the flesh of Kili’s thigh. He stumbles a bit before he falls to the ground, groaning when the pain registers.

Gaia crouches down next to him and quickly throws her arm around him to support him. She helps him up and they make their way to the rest of the company.

“You will be fine,” Gaia mutters repeatedly, dragging Kili with her.

Kili’s leg gives out from underneath him and he hits the ground with a thud. Fili runs back to them to assist Gaia in getting Kili back up, but Kili’s leg is a bad condition.

Gaia looks around and her eyes fall on the running water next to them. She has never managed to control water, but that is their only escape.

She lets out a shaky breath when she reaches the water, her hand stretched out to the water.

As soon as her hand touches the water, a large ice block forms.

She gasps, unable to believe that she had done that. She turned water to ice?

“Get on,” she shouts to the rest of the company, jumping on the block.

Fili throws Kili on the ice and she prevents him from sliding off. Fili follows along with the rest of the company.

The block of ice is large enough for the whole company if they squeeze against each other. Gaia helps to keep them from slipping off the ice by forming something that resembles a border around the edges of the ice block.

The stream of the river is strong and it moves the block with ease.

The Orcs are quite a way behind the company, but they continue to shoot arrows at the ice.

Gaia deflects the course of the arrows as it is made of wood.

A few Orcs managed to catch up and they are jumping from the riverbed to get onto the ice block. Between Thorin, Fili, Dwalin, and Balin, their lifeless bodies fall into the treacherous water.

Gaia glances at Kili and the dread settles in. They need to get some shelter, away from the Orcs. Hopefully, she can heal him.

Hopefully.

“We are making progress,” Oin says, wiping his forehead. Gaia hums, keeping her eyes on the water. They need to get to land.

After they made their way through the worst parts of the river, the water became calmer. As the water slows, the ice block starts to melt.

Gaia tries her best to keep the ice from melting until they get to the bedrock, but it would seem fate is not on her side anymore.

“Swim, get to the shore,” Thorin calls while he sinks into the water. Gaia jumps from the block to help Fili with Kili, struggling to get to the bedrock.

The company gets to the shore which is accompanied by groans and some rushed arguments.

Kili takes a few steps, but he sinks to the ground with a groan.

Gaia rushes over to him, her hand on his shoulder.

She sees him trying to cover his wound, but she recognizes the blackness that is evident in his wound. A Morgul shaft.

“We have to keep moving,” Thorin coughs out. Bofur has joined Gaia and Kili, the worry evident in his features.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Kili says, but neither Gaia nor Bofur believes him.

”On your feet,” Thorin commands Kili, but Gaia prevents Kili from standing up. He frowns at her, but she shakes her head at him.

“Kili’s wounded,” Bofur starts, “His leg needs binding.” Fili comes rushing to aid, helping his brother onto his feet.

Gaia feels the tears stinging her eyes, but she blinks them away. Why does she always jump to the worst conclusions?

Thorin starts about the Orcs. Gaia hears Bilbo contributing his opinion with Balin and Dwalin also talking, but she focuses on Kili.

His leg is only going to get worse. They need to stop. The more time they spend not extracting the poison, the more time it has to spread throughout his whole body.

She has seen what the poison can do and she does not want Kili to suffer such a fate. She has grown quite accustomed to him and she would not let him die like that.

He needs to rest.

“Bind his leg, quickly. You have two minutes,” Thorin interrupts the current conversation, looking at Kili and Bofur. Fili helps his brother back to the ground.

They watch as Bofur and Oin start to bind Kili’s leg. He lets out a few pained groans, his body writhing on the cold rock.

“Kili,” Gaia calls softly. He turns his head to her, trying to smile at her. She reaches her hand to his cheek. Her thumb moves in circles on his cheek, soothing him. “You’ll be all right.”

Gaia hears Ori dumping the water from his boots into the river. She supposes she should do the same. Her head turns to Kili.

“I am going to try to get the water from my clothes and shoes. I will be back to help you,” she says with a weak smile, standing up.

Gaia follows Fili and they sit next to the river, dumping the water from their boots and squeezing the water from their clothes.

“He will be fine, won’t he?” Fili asks with a quiet voice. Gaia snaps her head to Fili, hiding her concern.

“Yes,” she says, but she realizes that she did not sound convincing. “He just needs to rest.” Fili gives a quick nod, his eyes fixated on his boots.

An unfamiliar presence catches Gaia’s attention and she turns her head to the stranger.

Everyone readies themselves for a fight, but the man is quick to warn them with his bow. He might be an even better archer than Kili.

“Do that again and you’re dead,” the man warns.

Gaia relaxes slightly. This man could perhaps be of assistance to them.

Fili has made his way to Kili in the meantime, defending his brother from the stranger.

Balin is the first to approach the man, recognizing the barge from Lake Town.

Gaia smiles to herself as she steadily walks back to Kili. She hands him his boots and some of his clothes which she dried.

“Here,” she whispers while Balin is still busy talking with the man from Lake Town. She wraps a light red and green plant around Kili’s leg, just above his bandaged wound.

“I know that one. An Airuxux,” Kili says hoarsely. Gaia smiles brightly at him and nods.

“Look at you. You even remembered the name,” she jokes. “We just call it “the sucker”,’ she says with a wink. Kili’s brows furrow.

“Why do you call it that?” Gaia ensures that the plant is tucked away from Kili’s eyes so that he cannot see the plant drawing the poison from his blood.

“No idea,” she lies. Kili chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“It is a strange name.” She hums in agreement when she notices the rest of the company following the stranger.

Fili helps Kili up and supports him with Gaia walking behind them.

Kili rests against the rocks as the man and Balin continue to converse.

Gaia catches that he has children and that his wife has died. She looks at the man with the dark hair while he loads the barrels onto his barge. Something about him seems familiar. She cannot place it.

A soft groan escapes Kili’s lips and she turns her attention to him. Fili also focuses his attention on Kili, but Kili tries to tell them that he is okay.

Kili looks at Gaia and sees her tired eyes, mixed with something else he cannot place. He had thought she could not control water, but she just turned water into ice. He cannot hide his amusement at her skills. Who is she? How did she come to be?

His leg sends a burning pain throughout his whole body and he bites back a groan. He does not want to worry Gaia or Fili. He will survive. He has survived worse.

When his eyes catch the glossed-over ones of Gaia, his heart pains. He does not like to see her like this. She deserves to be always happy, smiling.

His hand moves to hers and he takes her hand in his. He squeezes her hand, to tell her that he will survive. Her grip tightens on his hand.

Gaia focuses on Balin who has offered to pay the man double for smuggling them into Lake Town. She does not have anything of value on her. Perhaps, if she searches through the pockets of the clothes on her, she can find something.

But how is the man going to smuggle them all into Lake Town?

[weirdlotiel]

Ok

I have another question

Why people from every purely platonic like brotherly/siblings/ sisterly/best friends relationship tries to make romantic relationship?

I mean

Why can’t Frodo and Sam be just best buddies/brothers

Same about Bilbo and Thorin?

(I mean in general but those two relationships I see quite often)

Oh there is also Johnlock.

( somehow it’s almost always relationship between two man, why?)

It’s not like I’m against everyone who ships them but like… every single fanart/fanfic/etc I see about those guys is them being in love with each other. And I need more of them being having just platonic relationship. L

Can someone explain this to me? Because right now I don’t understand people. What’s wrong with just being friends or treating each other as siblings?

Please don’t hate me because of this post. Those are simply my thoughts that I kinda want answers for.

[mordellestories]

Bagginshield Fanfic | New Chapter

[thetaekwondofeline]

My DEAREST Warrior King Oakenshield,

Return from the war zone with pride & whole. Manifesting your striking figure now kissed with blood-sweat-dirt. Lift that magnificent face towards the freed Erebor, while carrying triumph in hand search for my cold-fire feature. The moment deep blue eyes are on me, my soul blooming with joy-relief-excitement. Leaving behind the gate of Erebor, my body automatically captivated towards MY EREBOR, travelling with unbelievably magnetic force. Still, the path seems so… so long until our bodies meet, brushing 'our' baby bump on your armour.

-Your Lady