tinywritingexplorer

[tinywritingexplorer]

I FINALLY SET UP AN ETSY

https://www.etsy.com/shop/RJsKingdom

I make bracelets, keychains, necklaces and so much more. There isn’t a whole lot on there yet, but I’m stocking up so bear with me! 

I mostly make things using quotes from musicals, movies and books and am open to suggestions for things to make!

[tinywritingexplorer]

You are enough for me - Thorin x Reader

Request: Thorin x reader where the reader is a half elf/dwarf and after some issues turns out to be Thorin’s One.

Chatter is going on everywhere throughout the recovering kingdom of Erebor. Months have gone by since the battle defending the mountain and although the Sons of Durin needed a number of weeks to recover, all lived.

Dwarves who once found home in the lonely mountain were slowly returning from all corners of Middle-Earth when news spread about the death of Smaug and the victory of the Battle of the Five Armies. Erebor is slowly growing to flourish once again. Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thraîn is to lead the dwarves of Erebor as rightful king under the mountain, to be crowned this very evening. And that, my dear, is where your tale will begin.

*

“I have no place among these dwarves, Bofur.” Bofur sputters, turning towards his friend, laying her hand upon her shoulder. “You have every right, Y/N. Your amad is from these lands, making it yours as much as the next dwarf, lass.” “I’m not even a full dwarf.” She sighs, but before she can come up with a response, Bofur pushes her back into her chamber to get dressed for Thorin’s coronation. Once dressed, she follows Bofur and Bifur through the halls of Erebor.

Despite her mother being from the kingdom, Y/N has never before set foot in the lonely mountain. Her mother has left her and her da when she was just a wee child, claiming that bedding an elf had been the biggest regret of her existence, parting from her child with venomous speech as she rode off.

Y/N shrugs off the memories who once haunted every waking and sleeping moment, focusing her gaze upon Bofur’s jolly hat, who was walking in front of her. Bofur that is, not the hat. “We’re almost there.” Bifur tells her in Khuzdul, smiling reassuringly.

The three enter the hall and are immediately greeted by Bombur and his wife. Y/N listens to the three brothers chatting, while gazing around the King’s Hall. It was a gorgeous open space with enough places for every dwarf of Erebor. The hall was decorated in celebration of Thorin’s coronation and in honour of the dwarves who had been brave enough to go on a quest to reclaim their homeland and succeed. Y/N was proud to see flags bearing the colours of her friends’ family and gazed upon them with a broad smile. She didn’t notice the whispers behind her, nor Bifur walking closer to her, protective of the small half dwarf. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her, not after all the hurt she’s already been through. “Sasakhabiya abnâmul.” He tells her and Y/N looks down, plucking at her dress. “Thank you, Bifur.” Behind her, she can hear the whispers from the dwarrowdams increasing. Y/N squares her shoulders, straightening up and accepting Bofur’s arm, who as well has noticed the whispers and sends the dams angry glances. Together they watch the coronation ceremony take place and Balin placing the crown upon Thorin’s head. Not long after the feast begins and people start walking around and chatting, dwarrowdams fluttering around Thorin. “That’s what he gets for being a king with no queen by his side.” Bofur grins and they both laugh at the King’s uncomfortable face.

“Hodhur rukhsaz.” Y/N hears someone behind her hiss, but she tries her best to ignore it, not wanting to allow the whispers to spoil her evening. Y/N and Bofur laugh the night away, being completely unaware of the fact that she’s being watched by two pairs of eyes all through the night.

The next day Y/N walks through the narrow halls of Erebor, ending up on a platform overlooking the entire market square. The view was beautiful, showing the usually busy square, slowly coming alive with the sun rising.

Suddenly Y/N turns around, hand on her dagger as she hears someone approaching behind her. Eyes widening, she leaves the dagger and dips into a courtsy. “Melhekhul.” Thorin comes to stand behind her, gazing over the market. “What’s your name?” “Imnê Y/N.” She states softly, shyly fiddling with a loose thread hanging from her sleeve. “You’re a friend of Bofur’s.” It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer. “I’ve had some complaints about you, Y/N. Quite a number of them.” Kiki sighs, leaning against the wall. This was old news to her. “May I guess? A half dwarf doesn’t belong in the halls of Erebor, shouldn’t besmudge the ancestral home of Dwarves with my very existence.” Thorin turns to her with a raised eyebrow. “With all due respect, Melhekhul, I can speak and understand Khuzdul just fine. The whispers do not go beyond me.” His mouth twitches. “I can see why Bofur has taken a liking to you. So quick witted.” “Alas, I admit it. Do you want me to leave?” It pains her to say, but she has no right to go against the King if he wants her to leave Erebor behind. “You are a personal guest of at least three of the dwarves who helped reclaim the Lonely Mountain. The only moment you have to leave is when you wish to, Lady Y/N.” With that he takes his leave, a small smile on his face.

The feast following the coronation of Thorin Oakenshield lasted a great long while, I’ll tell you. Over the past few weeks Thorin could often be found by Y/N’s side, interested in her adventures and cheeky, yet shy way of speaking. The King’s playfulness was slowly returning with no war to threaten the line of his kin. He took a liking to the half Dwarf with her Elfish features and was enamoured by her behaviour which contained both the stubbornness of Dwarves and the elegance of Elves.

His interest did not go unnoticed and the eligible dwarrowdams were furious. Y/N wasn’t even a full dwarf so could never be good enough for the King of Erebor in their eyes. Not like they were.

“Amrâlimê.” Y/N looks up from her book to see Thorin. “Can I have a word?” She accepts his outstretched hand and walks with him. “Is there no chance of finding your mother?” Ever since she told him that her mother was from the Lonely Mountain, he was hopeful about reuniting Y/N with her. “Thorin, I have no desire to seek my mother. She left when I was a wee child and her parting words were words that a mother should never speak to her own.” “It was not my intention to make you upset, ibin abnâmul.” Y/N smiles warmly at the Dwarf in front of her. “I know this, Thorin. Just like most you like a happy ending.” She nudges him playfully and he laughs, before turning serious again. “There is another matter I wish to speak to you about.” He shows her his palm, holding a carefully crafted silver bead. “I wish to court you, Amrâlimê. I wish to braid your hair and I wish to show all of Erebor that you belong to a King.” He’s fidgeting, Y/N can see him fidgeting and it makes her smile. “I don’t wish to belong to a King, I wish the belong to Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarf who was brave enough to reclaim his home. His I will be.” He smiles and leans down to capture her lips with his own.

*

A loud noise wakes Y/N in the middle of the following night, followed by a clammy hand clasping around her mouth and a blindfold being put over her eyes. She was lifted off the bed, her struggling futile. With how many are they? The intruders drag her through the mountain and soon Y/N can feel the wind on her bare arms as she tries to scream for help.

“Throw her over the side! Now!” Hisses a female voice and Y/N feels herself freezing. She’s being lifted higher, ready to be thrown out of the mountain towards her death.

“Harkulul!” A voice booms and torches are lit. Y/N almost cries in relief when she recognizes Dwalin’s voice. “I suggest you put the lass down, Frín.” His voice leaves no space open for discussion. Soon Y/N was lowered onto the ground and she rips the blindfold off her head, glaring at the 3 dwarves around her. “You’re not going to let that wench destroy the future of Erebor, are you, master Dwalin?”  You turn towards the dwarrowdam, ready to give her a proper piece of mind when you stop dead in your tracks. “It can’t be…”

“Any harm coming to Y/N is treason to the crown, Vas, you know this.” “You can’t be serious! Allowing Thorin to-” “Harkulul, Vas!” Dwalin guides you away while the other guards around stay behind to lead the three rogue Dwarves to the prison or Erebor, where they would stay until further notice.

Dwalin knocks on a door and not much later a grumbling Thorin opens the door, face softening when he sees the shaking Y/N. “What happened?” He pulls her into his embrace. “I’ll brief you in the morning. Stay with her and care for her, Mahal knows she needs it.” Before fully turning away, Dwalin turns to Y/N. “From where did you recognize Vas, lassie?” “She’s my mother.” You mumble in Thorin’s bare shoulder. Dwalin curses loudly before storming off. Rather than asking more, Thorin just leads Y/N to his bedchamber, gently helping her undress and wrap her in the furs heating in front of the fireplace. He helps her into the bed, keeping her safe in his arms, fingers gently playing with the courting bead in her braid. Whoever hurt his One would pay.

*

Sasakhabiya abnâmul – You look beautiful.

Hodhur rukhsaz – Orc faced

Melhekhul – My king

Harkulul - Enough