#fíli and kíli are pests

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Black - Chapter 7

Yes, I still am not done with this irregular, random, weird travel blog...

Fandom: the Hobbit

Characters : Thorin x OC, many others

Setting: Before the unexpected journey lol

Rating : Mature (not yet...still...but a little)

Warnings: none, it's just light-hearted silliness

It's a longish chapter (around 4k words...sorry)

“All is well, Master Dwalin. Do not distress yourself!” She called out to the vision of prowess stomping towards her.

She would not necessarily be welcome here, she knew, but it made her feel safer already to know that, at the very least, they would not have looked on as she was raped and murdered by some stranger.

“The lass has chased away a grown man with a tree branch. Aye, she might be well assorted to Oakenshield.” Balin laughed, carrying the infant easily back to the settlement. She remembered the impossible weight in her arms, pushing down on her bones and compressing her flesh, and she was amazed at the strength of these beings.

“May I borrow a knife?” She asked the two warriors who were apparently waiting for her to take her back into the confines of the settlement, Thorin looking positively eager to take her to safety and slightly annoyed at the delay.

Dwalin handed her a small blade and she knelt again, opening a small wound in her forearm and sticking the bloodied knife-edge into the ground. It was a hungry earth, she knew for she felt its thirst, and old nan had told her that dung and blood fertilised the soil best.

“What are you doing, lass?” Dwalin approached, cautiously, suspicious of an obviously insane woman with a knife. “Gardening, Master Dwalin, gardening.” She replied with a small chuckle. Maybe, she could get some seeds out of those vegetables she had bought. When dawn broke, she would inspect the wilderness around the Mountains in search of herbs and fruits she could use for her other, meagre talents in hopes that she could be of service in any other way.

“Mistress? Mother asks what is to be done about the food you have brought…” The blonde kid came up to them, exclaiming: “Oi, mistress, you’re hurt!” and offering a rather dubious handkerchief right away.

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” She looked to Thorin, seeking his help in explaining. “She does things differently.” Thorin said tonelessly but inclined his head at her to get her to answer the original question of his nephew.

“Come, Mistress, you must be cold. Really, uncle, to have that poor woman sitting on the cold ground.” Fíli seemed outraged and dragged her away towards the settlement, shaking his head at an equally indignant Thorin.

“So…about that food.” The young man asked again, pointing at the cart nobody had touched hitherto. “It was a gift…”

Thorin had said it would be welcome, but maybe they distrusted her that much? “I have purchased it from a merchant from the Shire and Thorin has been there all the time, I have…there is…it’s good.” She stammered, biting her lip, she had never been so far from home and comfort; she felt painfully outmatched by all these gloriously self-possessed people around her.

“Oh yes, nobody said there was anything wrong with it. No…but it’s yours, Mistress. Uncle said you’ve bought it.” Fíli replied gently, steering her to a nearby bench and twisting his moustache. Evidently, he was trying on the role he would have to fill sooner or later; she hoped it would be later, much later, for she could not even envision the death of one Thorin Oakenshield.

The very man approached and lifted his hands when she wanted to defer that decision to him. “You bought it with your past, woman, you decide of its future.” He declared and waited.

“What are you talking about, Master Dwarf?” She mumbled, waving at the cart and the foodstuffs within. “These are offerings to the venerable royal family and their people.” She spoke to the young prince, handing him what little was left of her savings.

“Woman, did you just hand him your money?” Thorin roared. “Yes, Master Thorin, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the same thing.” He protested. “I am not a kept woman, Master Thorin, and I am not your guest. Your people cannot bear another idle mouth to feed, another idle body to warm, isn’t that the truth you tried to hide from me?”

He retreated one step, startled by her candid words. “That first night, you took me in, you gave me food.” He murmured.

“And I will continue to do so, Master, I will forage and hunt, I’m used to walking to markets to sell my wares and I shall go on doing just that. I have survived on my own for a long time and I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Her pride shone bright in that second as she went toe-to-toe with a king, with a man she respected, with a person she venerated for his kindness and generosity. “I want you to be my guest.” He said, just a tiny bit petulant.

“And I’m telling you that I don’t want to be your guest. You are my master…and my friend. Have I ever offered you less than my service?” She barked back, proud and strong, standing in the middle of the courtyard with her cart.

“I have made a vow, Thorin-king, I have promised hard work and humility to purge the sins of my forefathers. Have you forgotten about that? I shall not renounce my promise to the creator.” She went on, softer.

“You are delivered. Men don’t work for the likes of me.” Thorin retorted, with deceiving calm.

“I am not a man though, am I? All kinds of people work for their king if their king works for them, and women have worked for a man since the beginning of time.” She smiled. “I am not a slaver!” He exploded.

“They are not your people.” As soon as he saw her face fall, he knew that he had gone too far, that his words and his pitiful mastery of them had failed him; like wild horses, they had run off and trampled someone he cared for.

“Thorin!” The princess, beautiful and wreathed in flames of just anger, stormed into the yard and let both her palms clash heavily onto his broad chest.

“Do not listen to him, he did not mean it the way he’s spoken it; Thorin has ever been a mulish, overly proud, misspeaking fool.” She whispered to the frail creature huddled in her hurt as a babe in a blanket.

“It runs in the family.” Thorin hissed and earned another withering, punitive stare from his sister.

“Your gifts are very welcome. What he means to say is that we do not want to be seen as the kind of people who take advantage of the…goodwill of a gentle maiden such as you. We are said to be ruthless and greedy.” Her eyes went dark with sadness. “There are things that may point into that direction. If you were to sacrifice that tender life of yours in service to a…homeless people, it would shame us.” Her royal hand rested heavy and solid on the frail and shivering one.

“I would be part of a great destiny, of retribution, of redemption, if you permit, Milady.” She whispered, begging under her breath. “Such faith have you in a king without a crown, without a realm, without an army?” The princess was surprised.

“Such faith have I in the person who’s led me out of misery and through peril to a safe haven, yes.” She replied firmly.

“Harbul…” Thorin sighed, much to the dismay of his sister and the onlookers. He had called her “mudlike”, which was in itself not a compliment, but when she looked up to question him on his choice of name, he smiled: “Creature of mud, creature of soil, fertile daughter of water and earth.”

She bowed to him, accepting “mud” as her name, as her epithet, as her identity, amongst those strange people who were so private with their own names. Her previous name was strange and outlandish to them, so she encouraged the outraged crowd to address her by a word of their own language.

They were so proud of their heritage that it was unimaginable to them to feel honoured to be given another name in a foreign language, but she hoped that at least Thorin would understand. “I am sorry.” He murmured as he took her arm to go into the dining hall, small and cramped as it might be. So, he did not understand.

“If I had been less hasty, if my words had been less careless, please believe me that I’d have bestowed a name worthy of your courage and your loyalty upon you. I’d have praised your beauty and your good heart rather than harp on your own erroneous vision of yourself. I am truly sorry.” He whispered into her ear, while his sister still looked at him as if he had crawled out under a rock.

“Don’t…I love it.” She beamed up at him, trying out her own name tentatively. “I feel like I’ve arrived.”

“From dust to mud? I don’t want that, I don’t want you to stay a slave to ghosts forever.” He sounded exasperated by her meekness. “Some of us are born for greatness, harbingers of momentous change and icons of a bright future, Master Dwarf. You are more than just a man, you’re a promise, you’re an oath, you’re the physical embodiment of an excellence spanning centuries and millennia…and some of us…are not.”

“Arzâm, that’s what I should have named you.” He groaned. “Woman, growled impatiently, has worked perfectly for us this far, no?” She grinned, then, overcome with curiosity, she asked: “What does it mean then?”

“It means “faith”; despite everything you say about yourself, it is what I think of first when I think of you.”

“And do you think of me often?” She laughed. “Yes.” He gave back in a serious, ponderous tone.

“Then I shall accept that name as well. Faith, it suits me well.” She was still smiling, shedding her old skin and everything she had been born into with an easy shrug that confused and amazed Thorin.

At the closed door though, she hesitated, then stopped completely.

“I…Should I go in there? I can eat out here.” The woman henceforth and forevermore known as Faith offered.

“You are not a dog, woman, come in. There are still dwarrows who want to meet you…and they’re pushing against this very door from the wrong side.” With an impatient call through the wooden partition inviting unseen people to please clear the doors, Thorin gave it a hearty shove.

Excited murmurs and threatening growls erupted in a sound like waves crashing onto the shore.

“I am unwelcome.” She whispered, biting her lip to keep her calm while Thorin moved with impervious determination through the throng of people towards a table where his nephews were already seated.

“Let me leave, Master Thorin, I beg you.” His hand only tightened around her arm as he pushed her forward, feeling miserable because he was treating her like a prisoner now, but she would not just scurry away to eat scraps of the food she had bought herself. “Don’t be afraid; these are the sounds living, breathing beings make…Okay, dwarrows might be a little louder than the fine people you’ve grown up with, but…” He gave her a crooked smile.

It was true; she was overwhelmed with the sheer volume of the cacophony of life around her. After years of wandering in an endless, wooded tomb, she had almost forgotten what vivacity sounded like.

“If you go any slower, uncle, she’ll be dead of starvation before you make it to the table. We’ve all seen the beautiful maid you’ve brought along with you, now make haste, we want to eat.” The younger one of the nephews called out and ducked behind his brother to avoid Thorin’s glaring look. Only, he had not minded his own mother who gave him a sharp rap on the head that might have broken Faith’s neck from the look of his head flying forward and almost knocking over a pitcher.

“Friends, kinsmen, join me in welcoming Mistress Faith who not only has provided this dinner, but, as I am told, has also chased away a potential intruder AND tried to hold a pebble.” Dís announced, apparently silently agreeing with her son’s assessment that Thorin’s dignified and regal entrance was basically just annoying and boring.

General laughter from the surrounding crowd made Faith look around in wonderment and interest. “Why is that funny? That infant was adorable, why wouldn’t I try to hold it?” She looked up at Thorin questioningly. “They’re heavy and notoriously difficult. Your new friend here was a terror.” He grinned as they reached the table, nodding at his sister.

“I was absolutely nothing of the sort; I was a proper angel compared to my older brother.” She spat back and, for a moment, Faith thought that she would stick out her tongue in defiance.

“Fíli was a fussy baby, but Kíli was not all that difficult.” Dís informed her as she pushed the woman down on a chair with a force that made her bones creak. “They must have been so adorable.” Faith sighed under her breath.

“They were okay.” Thorin grumbled, but his eyes were warm. She remembered the stories he had told her on the road about their first weapons and their first ponies; she had traded him old women’s tales for recollections of his beloved family and so she knew that he loved those rambunctious boys more than his own life.

“Also, that baby was not difficult at all.” She turned back to Thorin. “It tried to scalp you!” He exclaimed. “Nonsense, it merely played with my hair…It was charmed to find someone who let it touch their hair.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Well…you may touch mine, for good luck, as you say. Would that make you feel less nervous?” It was a surprising offer and she shook her head immediately. “Oh no, I won’t touch your hair, in the dining room, in front of everyone!” She hissed under her breath which made him break into booming laughter.

Fiddling around with his braids for a second, he pressed a small metal bead into her hand under the table.

“For good luck.” He winked. “Thorin-king, you cannot do that.” She blushed. “I am king; I can do what I want.”

Being back home with his people brought out that other side of him as well, she noticed; he seemed to have a streak of wicked, quick-witted humour that made her head spin. She knew this to be a joke for she was fiercely aware that she had only known one single person in all her life who had lived observing a more extensive array of rules and restrictions than her: Thorin.

“Be true to your name, woman, and have faith in me, have faith in my people. We are a private folk, suspicious, distrustful, wary of outsiders, but we also know a gem from a pebble, and we value loyalty above all else.” He said with that weighty, serious tone that made him sound so much like a king of old.

He served her prime cuts and a good heap of vegetables. “Eat your greens, Thorin-king!” She whispered as she understood that he was trying to smuggle her his portion as well. Despite the face that he made at her, he shoved a fork full into his mouth grimly and stared her down defiantly.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Fíli bowed his head at her with a cheeky smile. “At your service, prince.” She replied, her deference marred by the grin she couldn’t suppress. “Do you want to walk with Kíli and me after dinner? We can show you the others.” The prince offered eagerly. “Others?” Faith was immediately interested.

“Don’t overtax her.” Thorin cut in, stern, afraid that too many dwarrows at once might still make her run for the hills.

“Oh, please say I may go, Master Dwarf. Please.” She begged, grabbing his arm with both her hands. “Well, my nephews can open the doors for you.” He said with a sly smile and had she not been in the dining room in presence of a good many of his subjects, she might have smacked his arm for his cheeky insolence.

“Will you heap blessings on them as well?” Thorin asked, a tinge of jealousy piqued within his heart. “I shall beg the great creator to be merciful to those who would follow you into the great unknown, yes.”

“That great creator you always talk about…who is he?” Thorin shoved away his plate and turned to her fully, to the surprise and confusion of the other people in the room. “Well, he’s the great creator. We are not given his name, Thorin-king. He is one and he is many. He is the source of everything.”

Thorin made a gesture that encouraged her to go on. “He’s the beginning and from him flowed all powers and things, which in turn created new things. Creatures of mud. Creatures of stone.” She smiled up at him with open warmth.

“We believe that Mahal has created us. Hewn us from stone and Eru Ilúvatar gave us consciousness.” Thorin murmured in a low voice to her. Faith raised her hand and puckered her lips in strenuous concentration. This sounded familiar…had she perverted her nan’s stories? Had she diluted the tale?

“He is one and he is many, from him all things sprang, the holy maker of things, fashioner of chains and forger of wonders…the name escapes me, Thorin-king, but I might have heard of that Mahal.” She whispered, more to herself than to him until she became aware of his burning gaze upon her focused face. “Yes, I might have known that story…” She repeated.

“That’s a part of the great creator that had no bearing on my life though, I am sorry.” She went on, apologetic. “The story doesn’t end there; Yavanna, his wife, is queen of the earth, bringer of fruits, protectress of all things that grow.” Thorin interrupted her.

“So, you’ve given the different parts of the great creator names?” – “It’s what people say…there are many names and a lot of stories, I thought you might like them.” He smiled gently; he had seen how she was grounded in her faith and how she thrived on stories and tales. This was a gift to her, and he hoped that she would not be offended.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Faith was consumed by curiosity now. “So, you were hewn from stone?” – “No, not me.” He laughed.

“Durin then? Was Durin hewn from stone?” She asked, remembering that mystical first king. “Yes…”

“And he had a long beard?” Faith beamed up at him. “Yes, he had a long beard.” Thorin chuckled, amazed by her naïve fascination and earnest wish to learn; to her, all of this were stories, fairy tales and pretty lies, but his people had cherished and passed on those accounts for generations.

Faith’s mind was churning with questions; to her, there had always been a notion of sacrifice and devotion to her observance of her belief and she wondered what might please this Mahal.

“Have I leave to go to the nearest river in the morning?” She asked Thorin as their plates were cleared away. “What for?”

“Have I leave to use one of your furnaces?” She went on, not answering his question.

“I accept your faith, I accept your vision of the creator, and I hope they might accept my way of honouring them.”

She would go and collect loam, purify it to clay and turn it into pottery, he understood. Offerings had ever been her way of expressing and observing her faith; he had seen her twice bleed onto the ground and a hundred times call out to the great creator while offering her time, her tears, and her pain to him.

“What for?” He repeated slowly. “To give thanks for the walls that encase me, for the man who’s saved me, for the creation of this beauty that fills my soul to the brim, Master Thorin. I have seen great wonders, they were gifts, and gratitude is expected.”

When he didn’t reply, Faith went on softly: “I have surrendered my life to you, I have surrendered my name to you, let me worship the way I always have and hope that it finds grace.”

Industry and creation had ever been pleasing to Mahal, Thorin thought and he could barely imagine that any Valar could be displeased with such ready and absolute devotion. One could have believed that her soul was easily swayed, but as he looked into her eyes, he discovered that her belief had only deepened thanks to his words.

“I’ve told you about Yavanna because she sounds like someone you’d feel…close to.” Thorin went on, disregarding his nephews who were chomping at the bit to get the poor woman away from him. No doubt, they had some mischief in mind.

“Many times you’ve called me king of stone, immutable and intransigent…” He went on. “Strong and steady.” She corrected.

“Well, allow me to call you queen of growth then, queen of thriving things, queen of change.” The way his face melted into a dazzling smile made her feel weak in the knees; he was the fire and the smith in equal measures, and she would never grow accustomed to the flashing blaze that engulfed her unexpectedly.

“Let us call you queen of moving away from the grumpy old dwarrow.” Kíli said cheekily and pulled her by the arm, almost tearing the whole limb out of the socket. “Gently!” Thorin warned his nephew, who apologised but kept drawing her away.

“So…how do you find uncle?” Kíli asked as soon as they were – almost – out of earshot.

“What are you talking about? He’s just over there! I had no reason to search for him this far.” Faith replied with a smirk.

“Haha, funny, no, but…how do you find him?” The young prince insisted, not discouraged by her side-stepping.

“I find him much restored in his health and mood now that he’s amongst his kin.” Faith provided amiably.

“Mahal’s beard, woman, do you think he’s cute?” Ah, the impatience of the young, Faith thought, increasingly enjoying this little game. “No, prince, there is no creature on this earth less probable to be called “cute” than your uncle, the king.” She chuckled.

“Really? Look at him, look at the fuzzy beard…Is it the beard? Really, he could grow a proper one, not like Kí here…He has his reasons to wear it short…It is the beard, isn’t it?” Fíli plunged into the conversation.

Faith wondered how good the king’s hearing was and how he’d feel about her being asked inappropriate questions about him by his intrusive but adorable nephews. She also knew that beards and hair were not up for discussion usually.

“There is nothing wrong with the king’s beard.” – “You can call him Thorin, he’s not here…You can call him everything you like…” Fíli was an irreverent creature, Faith thought, cheeky to a fault, but she felt warm affection wash through her immediately, nonetheless.

“I shall call the king what he is. A king. Your most revered uncle. A man deserving of respect and esteem.” She said severely.

“You sound like mother…Come on, give us something. Any little thing, you like the beard then?”

“He’s a good man.” Faith said slowly. “But do you think he’s handsome? I feel like he hasn’t been told that he’s handsome lately. Mom tells him he looks like a raincloud that was stuffed inside a rotten tree trunk for too long.”

Faith knew that it was a trap, but she couldn’t help herself. “I am pretty sure that the honourable princess would never say anything quite as callously untrue to her brother, the king.” She cut in sharply.

“You should tell him that he’s handsome.” Kíli looked at her with huge, wet eyes pleadingly. “No, I should most definitely not do anything of the sort. Are you out of your mind, good prince?”

Faith bit her lip, that was no way one was to speak to a prince.

“I am not. He’s my uncle, I am fond of him…and he’s lonely. Also, he’s worn his best tunic tonight and you did not comment on it, did you? Screaming at him and all.” Now, he was making her feel guilty; she had indeed almost argued with Thorin tonight.

“Durin blue and all…” Fíli added. “You know Durin?”

“The one hewn from stone with the long beard, yes. I have not had the pleasure as that was before my time, but yes, I have been made aware of him.” Faith replied cautiously; she knew not if she was allowed to talk about this to other people.

“Do you think him ugly? It’s okay if you do, many of your kind do. We had just hoped that you’d…cheer the old boulder up with your feminine guiles.” They seemed dejected by her words and Faith was quick to want to reassure them. One would have thought that she had insulted their Mahal and Durin by not answering their question and their sad eyes broke her heart.

“Who? The king? He’s the most beautiful creature in the world.” Faith almost stumbled over her own words.

“Oh really? Can you tell him? Please, tell him.” Strong hands closed around her arm. They must have been adorable as children, Faith thought again, no wonder Thorin loved them with such fierce intensity and tender indulgence.

“To his face?” Faith was doubtful that this would be a good idea. “To his goofy, fuzzy face, yes.” Kíli laughed.

“Kí…Let’s go meet a friend of ours. I think you’ll like him.” Fíli grabbed her sleeve ever so delicately and gave it a gentle tug, apparently afraid to damage his uncle’s plaything. “I am not made of sugar.” Faith laughed.

“You have no idea what they’re like if you dare…touch, take, damage or steal what they consider theirs. Great-granddad, he was…intense.” Fíli chuckled, but there was a darker, painful truth behind his light tone. Faith retraced their family tree, potential centuries of history, reciting under her breath: Thorin II, son of Thráin II, son of Thrór. What had happened to them? Thorin had spoken at length about the family that lived, about the people she’d meet, but he had avoided the subject of his forefathers as much as possible. What did the prince mean by “intense”?

“I am not his. Not in that way. I am a tool, not a valued possession.” Faith tried to protest, but heavy dwarven brows raised in evident mockery stopped the gush of indignant words immediately.

“Yeah, that’s probably why I can already feel our mother’s breath on my neck…Uncle didn’t want to let you go, let you out of his sight…as if we’d ever let any harm come to you.” Fíli puffed up with wounded pride. “The king says you have a tendency to mislay and lose your…things. Toys. Ponies.” Faith dared interject.

“This is different! Mother would…oh, she’d be furious and so would uncle. No, we’ll take you to see Ori and let uncle introduce you himself to the rougher fellows. Do you have any valuables?” Kíli asked in a nonchalant tone as they led her down a narrow corridor.

“No?” Faith patted the pockets of the dress that didn’t belong to her, just in case the previous owner had left anything in them.

“Good, because Nori will pick your pockets.” They both laughed. “Oh…maybe I should have brought something of value then?” Faith felt bad and slightly irritated at the boys for not having warned her beforehand.

“Here, it’s your own coin you handed to me so gallantly. It will make the old boy happy.” Fíli handed her a coin and she tucked it away in one of the skirt pockets diligently. “You’re a good sort, Mistress.” Kíli grinned, giving her a small slap on the shoulder that propelled her a few feet forwards.

“Be careful, Kí! Uncle will not let her come with us anymore if she’s all bruised afterwards!” His brother reprimanded the young prince immediately who apologised with another one of those melting puppy-eyed looks that made her heart shudder with maternal instincts. “I have to toughen up.” She just smiled.

“No, we need to learn delicacy. Ah, here’s one who will know how to act…Ok, he’s fled. We’ll get him!”

They ran off, after a reddish flash dashing around a corner, with surprising agility. To Faith, it felt like watching wolf pups chase after a deer; there was the distinct cuteness of youth, but already, one could not oversee the instincts and the single-minded determination of predators, of warriors, of flowering strength and power.

Sighing, she decided to follow them, praying that there would be no doors to open or sullen dwarrows to confront before she found them. In her mind, she turned over the question if it would really be appropriate to tell the king that he was handsome…She had said so before, but she had spoken abstractly, never really adopting the tone his nephews so ardently claimed was necessary. The mere possibility that those two rascals could be right when hinting at the king’s loneliness overruled her sense of propriety and what little pride she had left. Once she’d find her way back to her companion, she’d tell him.

“Mistress? Here’s Ori.” Kíli shoved another youngish dwarrow towards her who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in her presence. Her heart froze. Two other silhouettes appeared from the shadows and the hairs on her neck raised in gooseflesh.

#thorin oakenshield #stuffy thorin #nephews #fíli and kíli are pests #Ori ran #a bit of theology #not serious #don't come for me #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #writing #longer than expected

[marigoldvance]

Trick or Treat 24

TGBBO AU

prompt: (Belated Treat) The characters from your verse, but… a Flower Shop AU!

note: for @hawkguyhasstarbucks

Fíli hadn’t, in fact, had the balls to give his favorite contestant his number. Kíli had done well, made it through to the semi-finals with his unique and tasty interpretations of each challenge presented, but he hadn’t done as well as Sigrid Bowman. Even still, Kíli sported an honest grin on his handsome face as he accepted his defeat, telling the camera – and the world – how significant and uplifting the experience had been.

He’d stopped to speak to Fíli before leaving. Had flirted, winked, been undeniably inviting in his mannerisms. And Fíli’s nerves had squandered the whole thing before he could get his head on straight and give the man his number as he’d intended.

Thankfully, Fíli had been part of the crew who’d traveled to the various contestants’ locations to film their introductions and he remembered exactly where Kíli would be after the season, and Fíli’s on-set obligations, wrapped.

The sweet tinkle of the bell accompanied Fíli through the door as he stepped into the shop, immediately immersed in a dense, cloying aroma of the medley of blooms the shop sold. The shop itself was rustic and cozy, overwhelmed with local and exotic varieties bundled in pretty displays in baskets, on shelves and in large fridges that lined two walls.

Kíli was at the front, arranging a bouquet while he chatted to the customer, a bloke who, if what he said was to be believed, was celebrating a fourth anniversary with his soulmate. His voice was entirely drowned out by the sound of a chorus of angels when Fíli saw Kíli’s smile, wide and jubilant, the excitement matched by a twinkle in his eyes.

God help him, Kíli was more gorgeous than Fíli remembered.

Fíli shuffled around the shop, admiring the flowers and their odd names, biding his time until Kíli finished up with the customer. Finally, the bell tinkled. Mustering his courage, Fíli rounded the corner and said, “What would you recommend for an arsehole who wants to apologize?”

Kíli, who had been cleaning the table he’d used to wrap the customer’s bouquet, jumped about a foot in the air, cut stems and plucked leaves spraying out of his hands. Fíli would’ve felt bad had it not been adorable.

Kíli whirled around and stopped short when his gaze met Fíli’s, jaw dropping in surprise.

“I—” He visibly pulled himself together, slipping into a narrow-eyed expression of interest. “How big an apology?”

Fíli pretended to consider the question, “Enormous, I’d say.”

“Oh?” Kíli leaned his hip against the table, folded his arms and crossed one ankle over the other, alluringly casual. “What makes you think flowers would fix it, then?”

Fíli bit his cheek against the smile he felt tug the corners of his mouth. “Well,” He said, sliding his hands into his back pockets, “If you don’t think that’ll work, would dinner?”

Kíli tipped his head from side to side, hummed, “Maybe. You’d really have to go all out though, for an enormousapology. Can’t skimp on something like that.”

“Absolutely not,” Fíli agreed.

“And there’d have to be wine, expensive wine,” Kíli said, lifting a finger and then another as he added, “And the menu has to be in French, otherwise what’s the point?”

“Definitely.” Fíli didn’t bother trying to hide his amusement, beaming at Kíli who ducked his head, cheeks pink and smile soft. “What says I’m sorry better than garden pests in garlic sauce?”

Kíli hiccupped and then threw his head back and laughed.

“So,” Fíli took a questioning step forward, his face hot and his stomach clenching, “Would that be the sort of apology you’d accept?”

For a moment, Kíli was quiet, studying Fíli with more intensity than Fíli knew what to do with. But then, his whole face brightened, and he said, “I’m more of a steak and chips man, myself.”

Fíli’s shoulders relaxed in relief. “Now that, I can do.”

#GatheringFiKi #GF Trick or Treat 2021 #FiKi #Fili/Kili #Fili #Kili #The Great British Bake Off AU #TGBBO AU #writing #my writing #snack fic #banner #banner by MarigoldVance

[thorinthehottotty]

May 2nd - Lyn’s Writing Event - Thorin

Prompt: Cottage

Summary: Thorin gets lost and finds a hidden treasure...

Warnings: smut, implied smut, and a little angst

The days had been long and the emotional defeat he was suffering after all of these months were catching up to him. He felt lost, both physically and mentally. He figured he was near Bree by now, especially with how quaint and warm all of these houses were looking. Little cottages settled near the road, spread few and far between but had warm glows to them.

As far as places to bed down for the night (he was hoping for an inn, not hard ground) this wasn't the worst of places, not as long as he wasn't being chased from the property by racist men who cared little for his kind.

The map in front of him was confusing him more and more as he studied it and twisted to find a better angle, hoping it would jump out and he'd realize he was close to where he was supposed to be.

A girlish giggle has him pausing and look over to his right. Big brown eyes and rosey cheeks where staring up at him with mischeif not unlike Kíli at that age. Ah, he felt a pang of homesickness. He missed his sister and nephews greatly. There were many more things that this little pebble had different. Like the mess of red curls that looked of fire and completely untamable. Or the mass of freckles that liter her round cheeks. She grins up over a fence at him.

"Are you lost?" She pipes at him. He melts, the weariness being lifted from the adorable smile she gives him.

"Aye, I think I am." He responds and glances around, not keen on being chased from the property like common pest. Surely her father wouldn't want her talking to a strange lost dwarf.

"You've got big hands, I like your braids." She beams up and he finds himself chuckling. He's not the only one. A tinkling of laughter has him glancing up at a young woman in the garden, hunched over and plucking tomatoes from the vine. She didn't seem to mind her curious child making conversation with him at all! But it was usually the men that took issue with him.

"Thank you, little one." This makes her blush and smile at him with mooned eyes and he's even more amused by it.

"Ma, he's handsome!" He raises his eyebrows and sees the woman bite her lip and close her eyes, fighting back her own amusement.

"Is that so?" The woman hums with a smile. She brushes her hands off on her apron and stands, pulling the cute brimmed hat with a blue bow off and made her way toward the fence.

It revealed the same bright red curls beneath, only drawn tightly back into single braid. Little ringlets falling out from the days work. She offered Thorin a warm smile.

"Where is it your heading?"

"I'm trying to reach Bree by night fall." She winces at that.

"Good luck, Master Dwarf. Bree is a three day ride from here." He blinked at her in surprise, and then his defeat fell back on him in full force. "You're heading the wrong direction if you're heading there." She leans over the fence, tilting her head to get a better look at the map. He offers it toward her a bit as her hazel eyes search.

"Where are we then?"

"You're located about here," she points with her finger. He wanted to curse but thought better of it. He sighed, grateful that this woman seem so kind.

"Miss Willa!" Someone calls and they all turn to look.

"Drats," the woman mutters softly as a man shuffles up the road, a bundle of wildflowers in her hand. "Mister. James, what are you doing out of your home so late?" Thorin didn't miss the amusing and dramatic shaking of the young girls head. She gave Thorin a rather sassy, disapproving look. Clearly, she did not approve of this suitor.

"I was wondering if you'd take a late evening stroll with me, tonight?" He gives her a hopeful smile... And his gaze falls on Thorin. He manages to produce a scowl. "What is a dwarf doing on your door step?"

"Why, I've invited him for a late supper and a place to rest his head for the night, a bit lost he seems and the next inn is a three hour walk." This is news to Thorin but he simply gages the reaction of 'Mister James'. The man opens his big mouth, ready to argue but he recieves a raised eyebrow from the young woman. "Very sorry, about the plans. You should run home and wash your hands, those flowers could give you an awful rash." The man looked horrified at his hands as he tossed them to the side quickly.

"Oh, I'm sorry- I, uh, I'll just... Go." And with that, he shuffled uncomfortably back down the road.

"I thought those were elderflowers, Ma." Thorin turned to look at shameful look her mother gave her.

"Shh. He doesn't need to know that." The reply made Thorin crack a grin. He was surprised when she opened the front gate for him. "Would you like some supper?" He paused, looking down at his map. The man didn't argue that an inn was too far for the night.

"It's quite alright, you've helped me plenty."

"Nonsense. It wouldn't be very kind of me to send you on your way without something warm in your belly." Thorin hesitated, not used to the kindness of men.

"Ma just made buscuits! Please, Mister Dwarf, please!"

"Your husband won't mind?"

"You did just see the suitor trying to bring me flowers, yes?"

"I've learned many men don't understand 'no'."

"I'll give you that. Come along." Thorin sighed and stepped through with a grateful smile. Autumn was upon them and he didn't look forward to the surplus of ticks. Falling asleep with a full belly of hot food would make falling asleep on the ground much easier.

She latched the gate back behind him and lead him up to the house, sending her daughter to grab her basket of vegetables. The girl eagerly obeyed, excited for the company to join them.

The aroma to the cottage was warm and delicious. The buscuits, no doubt. Everything cozy and warm. Thorin sat at the table as she washed the dirt from her hands and went to the stove, relighting the top and moving the pot of food back onto it, apparently dinner set aside from earlier.

"Lena, go wash up before you sit at that table," Willa scolds as he daughter tries to climb into the chair. The girl give another amusing look of distess.

"How does she do that!" She whispers to herself and moves onto another room. Thorin smiles, humbled by the warmth and charm of this little cottage.

"What of your husband? Is it just the two of you?"

"I was married only a few months before my husband became ill and passed. Managed to concieve the little one in that span though," she offers.

"I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been hard." The woman turns and smiles at him sadly.

"Yes, I suppose. But Lena's never suffered, so I suppose that's well enough for me." He nods in understanding. "Mead?"

"If you've got it." She moves to fill a glass for him from the barrel on the counter. He takes a moment to glance about. Herbs hand to be dried above the window in front of the sink, jars and jars of honey line shelves. She must make her own mead.

He eyes her as she moves about. She's pretty, even for a human. There's something enchanting about the glitter of mischief in her eyes, like she was teasing him. She had the same freckle as her daughter. As she sets down his glass for him, the little pebble flies out of the room, hands clean and her night dress ready.

"Oh, you," the mother sighs, smiling. She pulls a rag from the table, wets it, and moves toward her daughter to clean the dirt from her face. Thorin is shocked to see her tilt her face toward the cloth and proudly soak it up. Willa catches his smile. "Have any children?" She asks.

"No, just my nephews." He replys with a smile. "She reminds me of when they were young." Lena gives him a big grin.

"I do? What's their names? What's your name? I've never met a dwarf before." She was curious, eager to learn.

"I am Thorin. My sister's sons are Fíli and Kíli." Lean looks awed by the introduction.

"Those are weird names."

"Lena, be polite to our guest." Thorin found himself smiling down at the child who only smiled sheepishly at him. He could only think of the chaos that she could insight in his youngest nephew, should they ever meet her.

The aroma of food made his stomach clench eagerly as the lady of the house moved back to the stove. Her daughter entertained him as he patiently waited and sipped the mead. There was an ease to the air. Like this was his own house, it made him wonder distantly if this was what having a family was like. For a moment he let himself pretend as the girl chattered to him about different flowers.

For a moment, this was a needed distraction to his distressed mind. A fantasy to ease the ache of his missing home and families.

He knew he shouldn’t delve too deep into this dream, not when there was a beautiful woman serving him hot, delicious food and smiling at him so kindly. Their fingers brushed as she settled the bowl in front of him. The both paused at the current that rippled through them. He could see the hair of her arm stand on end at the brush of his hand.

He caught sight of her pinked cheeks. So she felt the attraction as well then.

“Mr. Thorin?” He twisted to look at the child calling. Her big eyes glitter at him in a familiar way. Their admiration something that had diminished in years past from his nephews, but never disappeared. “Why don’t you have any kids?”

“I’ve never married.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t pry, Lena.” Even Willa’s scolding was gentle and there was something so soothing about it. Thorin was thankful for it. She distracted her pouting child with the fresh sweets drawn from the oven. Thorin found himself pretending she had received those brown eyes via him, through his late mother. That he was not Thorin, son of Thrain, nor was he king under the mountain, but a simple dwarrow smith with a woman for a wife, and a fiery little pebble for his own.

The food warmed his belly. And when Lena was shuffled off to bed, he gathered his few things. The low light of candles called for him to stay. The warmth from dinner made him sleepy and calm, but he shouldn’t stay.

He waited for his hostess to return, to thank her for her deep kindness. While he did, waiting by the door, he was trying desperately to draw himself from the fantasy he was living in. Part of him begged for him to leave. Nothing was ever so freely given to him, it made him wary of all. But this woman hadn’t asked for anything from him.

It was easier said than done because his sensitive dwarf ears picked up the soft singing Willa hummed to her daughter. Soft mutterings that didn’t take long at all, a nightly ritual it would seem. He only had a few minutes, but he’d steeled himself.

Or so he thought.

The moment Willa emerged, softly closing the door, he was gone again to the fantasy. “I... I shouldn’t stay.”

“There’s a chill in the air tonight. Perhaps you should have another cup of mead?” She offers.

Thorin breathes out a soft sigh, like he can’t believe she’s still offering something to him. “I have nothing to offer you.”

“The company is enough.” He is given a soft but lonely smile. One he felt pang his heart with sympathy. He could only imagine what it would be like to marry and lose his partner after only a few short months, only to discover pregnancy.

“I fear if I stay, I will never want to leave.” The woman turns to clear the table, shrugging.

“Perhaps you could just stay for the night. You have an air to you... a safety.”

She felt safe with him. He watches as she slowly looks towards him, eyeing him shyly. Oh. So she did want something from him it would seem. And he was clay in her hands.

He dropped his things to the floor near the door and moved toward her. She drops the bowl into the sink and lets him tug her to his chest. “Is this what you do? Ensnare men and dwarves in your home?” He asks her. She flushes at him.

“I’ve only ever been with my husband.”

“To go without for so long, certainly must be trying.” She nods at him.

“Will you stay for the night?” Thorin hesitates still, then answers by bringing his lips down on hers. He would never be able to get the feel of her lips from his mind ever again they curl against each other in the kitchen. Her gentle warmth was welcome as he holds her form to him. Tonight, he would stay and leave in the morning, despite his wishes to stay.

He doubts he will ever satiate his desire to stay here, in your arms, in your bed, and father your children. This would be another test to him. To fight away from the first thing he would selfishly want. The king knew he shouldn’t stay, that he shouldn’t tempt himself further but the loving caresses of her hands over his shoulders and arms were enough to make him forget about his father and his people and his lost home.

Instead, for the night he would give himself over to the love of a woman he had never met and allow his frustrations melt away from him, even if it meant breaking his own heart later. Thorin allows her to lead him away from the kitchen and to the back of the cottage, where a double bed is situated with soft quilts and cool sheets. She undresses him slowly, she takes her time, stroking hard flesh and pressing fingers into knots on his shoulder.

Was she trying to make it harder for him to fight to leave? Or was she truly just sweet to him. She loved taking care of her daughter, maybe she loved to take care of her husband too?

Thorin stopped letting himself think and ruin the moment. Shivering as she kissed over his shoulders and pressed fingers over his scars. Finally, when she works at his trousers, he’s already excited. Especially when she dips her hand down the front to stroke him. He gives a low groan and leans his head forward. “Willa,” he rumbles in a warning when he catches sight of her mischief.

“Thorin,” she hums back, pressing lip and cheek into his shoulder.

They absorb the moment, bathing in the moment. She let’s him pull her around him and he kisses her tenderly, like she really is his wife, and this was their bed because when morning came, he would be gone and he’d never see her again.

@tomisbaeholland

#thorin #the hobbit thorin #thorin thursday #Lyn's Writing Event #Day 2 #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin durin #thorin fanfiction #thorin x oc

[marigoldvance]

Trick or Treat 28

prompt: (Belated Treat) A Vampire high school AU in a world where Vampires are common and taught to control their killer instincts to function in the society (think: the predators in Zootopia)

“He’s cute.” Kíli heard Vivian say as he passed the table of Vampires and took his place in line, taking a tray from the stack. “For a bloodbag.”

“Shh,” Her friend, Bofur, chuckled, nudging her roughly. She laughed, a shrill, morbid noise above the cacophony of lively cafeteria bustle.

Kíli felt an unnerving prickle climb his spine, settling on the back of his neck and raising the hairs there. He was being watched. And he knew exactly who it was doing the watching. Kíli kept his head down and shuffled forward as the line moved ahead. He did his pest not to give into the urge to look back, almost lost his nerve when the sensation became overwhelming as it always seemed to in regard to Fíli Durin, resident misfit, and peer-appointed leader of the Vampire Youth in their year.

Unlike the two schools in the darker, more sinister end of town, Saint Valar Academy listed a mere twelve Vampire Youth on their register. Far fewer than the thirty and above most facilities accepted in an effort to bridge the gap left over from decades of segregation.

Kíli liked to believe he was forward-thinking, open to new opportunities and willing to give anyone a chance, except Vampires had a knack for making those qualities shrivel up and die whenever he was approached by one. They made it a game of toying with the human students, bearing their fangs and casting threats that could’ve been idle had they been uttered by someone who wasn’t on a diet of ethically farmed A+.

“Stop.”

The command was spoken to those at the table, not directly to Kíli, yet Kíli felt the rich, warm voice trickle down his front and puddle in his gut, the sound like thick cream and the syrup of tangy fruit. The weight of Fíli’s stare followed him through the line to the crowded table by the window where Kíli always had his lunch.

Ori and Tauriel offered him sunny smiles as he took his seat and joined their conversation, desperate to avert his focus away from the eyes that continued to rest their gaze on the back of Kíli’s head.

The lunch hour wound down too fast, as it always did, and soon the ten-minute warning bell clanged through the halls. Kíli had long since finished his food but had avoided emptying his tray into the bins that lined the wall behind Fíli’s table. Gathering his nerve, Kíli waved to his friends and carried his tray across the cafeteria to the bins, eyes trained steadily on the pizza and lumpy soup he hadn’t eaten.

He tipped the waste into the bin farthest from Fíli’s table, was almost home free when:

“What’s got you so spooked, Oakes?” Fíli drawled the question, smooth as butter.

Kíli hiccoughed in surprise, not having heard Fíli approach – but what else was new? Vampires could move as silently as the grave when they wanted to. Kíli snapped his gaze up to Fíli, who was leaned casually against the wall, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his low-slung, jeans that must’ve been painted on, they were so tight, the cuffs tucked into his combat boots.

“Nothing.” Kíli squeaked. He shook his head, determined not to allow Fíli to get to him like he normally did, and repeated in a firmer tone, “Nothing.”

Fíli’s eyes crinkled handsomely at the corners as a silky smile brushed across his lips, “That so? Because you look nervous. Like you think someone’s out to get you.”

Kíli narrowed his eyes. “Someone is out to get me.”

Fíli threw his head back and laughed. The sound was so distant from Vivian’s, which sent spiders crawling over Kíli’s skin. Fíli’s was comfortable, wrapped around Kíli’s shoulders like a hug, made him want to take a step closer into Fíli’s space. His feet didn’t move.

Fíli’s did.

Suddenly, Fíli was right there, a hair’s breadth away, each exhale raising goosebumps down Kíli’s throat.

“I promise, beautiful, no one’s getting near you unless they have a death wish.”

As unnerving as the comment was, Kíli’s body flushed white-hot heat from his core to his extremities. What was worse was he knew Fíli could smell it, how his heart pumped faster, his blood rushed harder. He was sure his embarrassment was written all over his beet-red face.

“I can take care of myself, mate, so thanks but you can naff off.”

Fíli grinned, boyish and so utterly normal it made Kíli falter in his reserve for moment.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

The five-minute warning bell shrilled through the emptying cafeteria.

“What do you want, Durin?” Kíli demanded, wishing he had something to do with his hands to fidget out the nervous energy.

Fíli didn’t say anything for a few beats, simply flicked his gaze between Kíli’s eyes and drew in a long, slow pull of air, lids dropping to half-mast in satisfaction. That close, Kíli had no doubt what Fíli smelt. Bugger. Fíli glossed his lips with his wet, pink tongue, the movement quick as a flash but leaving a lasting impression on Kíli’s brain.

Finally, Fíli said, “One date.”

Kíli’s attention snapped back to the present like a rubber band, “What?”

“Let me take you out, Oakes.” Fíli repeated, all coy stances and sex appeal, “If you hate me as much as you do now when it’s through, I’ll leave you alone.”

Suspicion brewed in Kíli’s gut and expressed itself on his face, “Uh-huh, sure you will.”

“I promise.” Fíli said, lifting his hand and holding out his pinky. The gesture was so human, Kíli couldn’t reconcile that it was Fíli making it. “Well?”

Before he managed to think about Fíli’s offer, Kíli’s pinky was already wrapped around Fíli’s and they were shaking on it. When his mouth caught up to the rest of his body, it said “Sure,” on his behalf, his brain lagging a few ticks behind.

“I’ll pick you up tonight.”

“I can’t tonight,” Kíli said, “We have that History assignment to hand in tomorrow.”

“So? I’ll pick you up after.”

Kíli huffed, “By then, it’ll be late! I can’t just tell my parents I’m going out at ten o’clock.”

Another of those liquid smiles curled the corner of Fíli’s mouth as he leaned in and whispered into Kíli’s ear, “They don’t have to know.”

Let it be known that Kíli had neverbroken the rules. He was a good, honest seventeen-year-old who did his homework and was en route to being Valedictorian.

Something about the way Fíli’s lips ghosted over the shell of his ear, down the slope of his chin and lingered briefly at the corner of his mouth before leaving Kíli standing there with a flirtatious wink threw all of his values out the window he later climbed out of after his parents bid him goodnight.

#GatheringFiKi #GF Trick or Treat 2021 #FiKi #Fili/Kili #Fili #Kili #writing #my writing #snack fic #banner #banner by MarigoldVance