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akindofmagictoo · 3 years

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20 first lines tag game

this comes from @zmlorenz and also I think @amillionwips — thank you both!

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 stories just list them all). see if there are any patterns. choose your favourite opening line. then tag others.

(I will tag @writingbyjillian @pamsdrabbles @sleepyowlwrites and anyone who wants to play!)

Hurricane

Tempest stilled her bouncing leg, eyeing her sleeping husband. Had she woken him? She took a careful breath and didn’t let it go until he snored and rolled over, pulling the covers tighter around himself. Still she waited. One breath. Two breaths. When he still didn’t move, she stood up and grabbed her coat and sword belt, not even bothering to put them on. Because she had to leave, and she had to leave today.

Theo x Aella Little Mermaid AU

Water closed over his head, tugged at his clothes. Tugged him down… down…

He wanted to cry out for help, but the water filled up his mouth before he could make a sound. Cold stole into his limbs, heavy and dark, weighing him down.

His chest ached, searching for air. Deep, cold darkness wrapped around him. Dragging, pressing, pulling down.

Down… down… down…

When he’d hit the water, he’d panicked. That was gone now. All he felt was the cold, the deep dark cold.

a random post-canon Theo x Aella oneshot

Thunder rumbled overhead, blending into the drumming of the rain on the roof. Aella tucked her blanket more tightly around herself, but it did no good. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t keep her mind off the locked front door, Alanna’s instruction to stay inside. It felt too much like other locked doors. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back there again and—

No. Sitting in this bed alone with her thoughts would do no good.

a post-canon Theo x Aella oneshot (sort of the former version of the one above)

“Read the mermaid one again.” Aella snuggled against Theo, pressed up between him and the arm of the big old armchair.

a Theo x Aella modern AU

Even with a map on his phone, Theo was impressed he’d made it to the small cafe on the main street. True, it was the main street, but his new house wasn’t, and directions weren’t his forte. Given how recently he’d moved, it was at least understandable.

The cafe was small, but its list of drink options was larger than he’d expected. But it included several types of tea, so he ordered a familiar English Breakfast and sat down at the nearest table.

post-canon oneshot of the Hurricane women play ‘theatre’

“So, who’s up next?” Aria stretched out in her hammock. “As much as I enjoyed being the defence lawyer, I think it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I’ll play the accused. I want to try my daring escape again,” Aella volunteered, sitting up.

Theo grinned. “Because you got caught last time?”

a crossover royalty AU with another project (Labyrinth)

(this isn’t the first line, but it’s the first lines where Theo appears. also, you would be correct if you assume that the Spanish princess is not Aella. that is the complication.)

“Spain confirmed the marriage alliance,” said Jared. “We still have to confirm it one last time, though.”

Theo glanced up at his dad. “Hardly surprising, really. They offered it, after all.”

Jared nodded. “Are you still alright with this? We can turn them down now, if you want.”

“My calendar is free,” said Theo, straight-faced. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got my eye on someone else or whatever. Just as long as I’m not expected to actually have a romantic relationship with the Spanish princess.”

the below are all fanfictions. [ps my AO3 is @/ sidebysidewithafriend go check it out if any of these fics interest you]

Shadow and Cottontail (Harry Potter: Marauders (OC insert))

(this is co-written, I’m posting the first part that I wrote)

“Is there mail today?” Kai Lupin jumped the last step down to the dining room. This was the same question she’d been asking for five days, but she asked anyway.

Her mother Hope was about to answer when an owl swooped through the open window, a parchment envelope clutched in its beak.

“I think the answer is yes,” said Remus, descending the stairs behind her with a little more care than she’d taken. Kai rolled her eyes and crossed the room to see what the envelope contained.

Hope was already taking it from the owl. “It’s from Hogwarts,” Hope said, and Kai’s heart leapt, only to be dashed by her mother’s next words. “But there’s only one envelope. It’s addressed to you, Kai.”

Told You You’d Kill It (Harry Potter: Romione)

“Ugh.” Ron shoved his books to one side and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all different directions. Hermione hid a smile as Ron drew his hands inside his jumper sleeves.

Through a yawn, he continued, “I’m done. I’m so tired.” Probably from his basketball training, but schoolwork was also a struggle for him, she knew. And they’d been studying in the library for several hours now. No wonder he was exhausted.

Thank You For Saving My Cat (Harry Potter: Jily)

Lily pushed herself up to a sitting position and breathed a small sigh of relief. At least she was out. She turned back to the house, watching the orange flames that danced over the structure with her heart in her throat. Was it her imagination, or were they growing smaller?

Most of her stuff could be replaced. But she hoped nonetheless that she wouldn’t have to.

Then she remembered the one thing she’d left behind and couldn’t replace. Crookshanks. She stumbled to her feet. Legs shaking under her, she ran to the nearest firefighter and grabbed their sleeve. The firefighter gear covered its occupant’s face, but the voice sounded male. “Are you alright?” He took her arm gently, steadying her.

3AM (Harry Potter: Wolfstar)

The beeping of the fire alarm filtered into Sirius’s sleeping brain, burrowing in until he couldn’t help but wake up. At which point he groaned and wrapped his pillow around his head, trying to block out the noise.

But this was a fire alarm, so really he had to get up. Grudgingly, he removed the pillow from his head and fumbled for his phone to check the time. The light from the screen was blinding in the darkness of his dorm room, but after a moment his eyes adjusted to see that it was 3:07 AM.

Give Him Back to Me (The Great Library: Wolfe x Santi)

Day 1

“Nic?” Wolfe half-rose from the bed at the sound of knocking, leaving his Codex open beside him. Something was off, though. Nic wouldn’t knock. He had a key. Besides, Nic was away in Belgium, training a new company. He wasn’t due back for another day or two, and that was assuming everything went to plan.

Nevertheless, when the knock came again he got to his feet and headed for the door.

Death Is Not Fair (Shadowhunters: (very angsty) Malec)

It wasn’t fair. Then again, life wasn’t fair.

And neither was death.

It shouldn’t have happened. It should have been a simple mission. The scans and all the reports had said there was just one demon in the area. It was a larger, stronger demon, and would’ve put up a good fight, but it was still practically nothing to a Shadowhunter like Alec.

Untitled (Shadowhunters: Sizzy) (unfinished and un-posted)

Izzy was swearing off dating. She’d kind of thought about it before, but hearing about the amount of drama in Jace’s love life right now cemented the idea firmly in her mind. No more dating. Between that and the mess Alec had gone through a couple of months ago, she wasn’t sure she wanted any part of that. Not to mention that of all the boys she’d dated, none of the relationships had really been right. Did she believe in The One? She wasn’t sure. But none of her boyfriends had been it, that was for sure. So no more dating for her. She was here to study forensic chemistry, after all, and surely it was better to concentrate on that.

Moving Day (Riordanverse: Blitzstone)

Last? signed Hearth.

Blitz brushed a speck of dust from the shoulder of his shirt, studying Hearth’s face. He knew exactly how many boxes were left to move, and it was more than zero, but the elf was looking paler than usual. If that was possible. As he watched, Hearth swayed a little and put a hand on the wall for support. “No. But I’ll get the rest. You need a break.”

Untitled quarantine AU (Riordanverse: Percabeth) (unfinished and un-posted)

“Thanks for letting me stay over to finish this project,” said Annabeth, setting the last piece on the model Coliseum she’d made. They’d done most of it last night, and she was just adding the finishing touches now. Although that had been before school had been shut down; they’d been notified the night before, but since she was here she’d been determined to finish it.

Untitled (The Hobbit) (I have a “better version of Tauriel’s arc” thing in the works, and this is an accompanying oneshot of how the Durins died in this version) (un-posted)

“Where is he? It looks empty. I think Azog has fled.” Fili glanced around nervously, his breath steaming in the icy air.

“I don’t think so,” said Thorin.

Footsteps sounded on the ice, echoing in all directions. It was impossible to know their source.

“We’ve got company,” Thorin growled.

Kili readied his sword.

This was practically everyday for them at this point. Every motion of his sword, every footstep, every bit of it was familiar. Fili hardly had to think. His sword flashed in the faint light. Droplets of blood and crystals of ice spattered his exposed skin, hot and cold. He was at home here; he might not have been on the ice before, but with a sword in his hand and Kili and Thorin at his back, he was content.

this is VERY long. if you read to here, thank you! and maybe consider reading some of them in full on my AO3?

#tag game #20 first lines tag #wip hurricane #wip labyrinth #zoe writes

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gayferatu · 4 years

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I hope it's okay if I request a Hobbit imagine real quick! My birthday's coming up relatively soon, on February 14th (Valentine's Day), so I'd really love to know how Fili, Kili, Thorin, Bilbo, Bofur, Ori and Dwalin (if that's not too much) would celebrate their s/o's birthday. I love your imagines, so this'd be a wonderful early birthday present! Thanks so much!

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY LOVELY!!!! I hope you like it

Fíli :

Fíli would subtly be trying to figure it out weeks beforehand. Asking around in your friend group or even family members and making them swear to secrecy. He wouldn't settle on 1 gift, he would want to make the day special for you, filled with smiles and small gifts hidden for you throughout your chambers. Small trinkets throughout your day.

Waking up to him kissing you awake, whispering all the sweetest words to you, a happy birthday between pecks to your lips. You'd find small wrapped gifts by your washbasin, new soaps and hair oils in your favourite scents. Breakfast in bed after you come back from washing up, all your favourite foods arranged on small platters and as you slither back under the sheets, he'll feed them to you, kissing your hair and cheeks and shoulders as you chat about the day ahead. He won't be working today, knowing the best gift would be his presence and time with how busy a Durin heir is but that doesn't stop him from spoiling you with all your favourites today! You will spend a long time in bed before setting off around lunch time, a small picknick outside of the mountain by a herb garden.

Later, you will have celebrations with your friends and family, and of course the company. Even Thorin takes time from his schedule to make an appearance. Fíli takes your to your chambers beforehand, a new beautiful black velvet gown set with silver lace waits for you there. This gift is more for him, he realises as you wear it, looking resplendent but he hopes you like it anyway. He'll braid new silver beads into your hair, made them for you himself, exactly to your liking and style. You wonder where he found the time, not knowing he's been planning this day for weeks.

Your celebration takes deep into the night, ale and wine flowing, and you dance with Fíli for hours until everyone is tired and slinks off, the music tapering down and when you find yourself back in your bedroom, he'll help you from your gown, rubbing your tired body gently as your two relax back into the bed for your last present.

Kíli :

Kíli would be less subtle. He'd have been asking months in advance, accumulating your likes and dislikes from the source. He'd do anything to get the gift you wanted, work tirelessly for it or pay a fortune. But of course, he'd also want to spend the day with you, probably take you out of the mountain early in the morning, perhaps to the woods and soak up the fresh air and sunlight on goatback. He wouldn't be returning you to the mountain until evening, having planned a nice long ride to a hotspring at the other side of the mountain.

Once there he'll lay out blankets, take out the food he's brought and you'll eat together, joking and laughing, and he'll give you your gift while trading stories and catching up on eachother's lives and jobs, finally having the time for it. He'll have brought cards and games and you play until noon when the sun is high and warm in the sky and you both make way to the hotsprings. Of course it doesn't take long until there's splashing and messing around and competitions of who can hold their breath the longest. You let him win. And then you let him do other things.

When you return to the mountain you'll celebrate with your loved ones and enjoy the rest of the day, retiring to your rooms with Kíli later, snuggling up and sleeping in late the next morning.

Thorin :

Thorin would probably make you something with his own hands, a black leather belt with ornate throwing knives encrusted with aquamarine cabochons set in silver.

He'd have a feast planned for you, half the mountain in attendance. A king throws a party in style, of course. Your favourite flowers decorating the tables, Durin colors replaced with your own likings for the day. There'll be music and he'll commandeer a harp to play you sweet love songs after getting egged on by Fíli and Kíli but he doesn't mind, really. The smile on your face worth the slight embarrassment of having to perform in front of everyone.

He'll take you back to your chambers earlier when he notices you tire of the festivities and you two make your leave quietly and he'll give you his gifts there, in private. He'll probably serenade your quietly, his own harp sounding better, his low rumbling tones relaxing you as he sings you to sleep.

Bilbo :

Oh, he'd be so sweet about it. Planning a more than one party for the day, one for just the two of you, the other later, the whole of Hobbiton will likely be in attendance.

He'll decorate Bag End after first breakfast and you go out for a walk with some encouragement from Bilbo. Garlands and colorful and nicely scented candles placed everywhere in the dining room, a surprise second breakfast upon it, cooked up in a storm as he doesn't have much time. But he secretly prepared a lot of it already, the night before. Small pastries with jam fillings, sugar cookies and biscuits, decorated with your name and small "Happy birthdays!" in the icing. Lovely tea with rosepetals and lavender and honey. And a pretty bracelet that he slips on your wrist after you've indulged yourselves with the food, sweet tooth satisfied. Gold and silver chain with a cute carved onyx charm on it shaped like a flower.

Later, a grand party in the field. Gandalf is there, plenty of fireworks in tow. There's music and dancing and drinking and it's so much fun you actually go to bed exhausted that night, wrapped up in your favourite Hobbit's arms.

Bofur :

Bofur's a romantic. Not everyone knows it, but he is. He loves to hold your hands and kiss every finger in private moments. Likes to nuzzle your cheek and press kisses to the corner of your mouth, mustache and beard tickling you. He also loves to take you on dates to Dale, walk with you hand in hand from stall to stall, pointing out deals to eachother and shopping. That's how you'd spend this day too, I think. Together, doing mundane things but he's so sweet it will feel like a special occasion. You eat small savory snacks wrapped in tiny parcels in the streets of Dale, drink sweet cherry wine in a small inn, sitting at a table in the back, fingers interlocked on top of the table, just spending quiet, loving time together until later.

He'll give you his gift upon returning to the mountain, in your chambers. He mined it himself, he proudly proclaims. A beautiful, football sized geode in the shape of a heart, with sparkling amethysts. He explains that when he found it he knew he had to give it to you, that it was the mountain's gift as well. It's beautiful and you place it on your bedside table, the firelight catching it and making it refract the light on the stone around it.

There's a party that night, your closest friends and family, the company all there. Dancing, singing, joking and reminiscing. Many tall tales told this night from the mouths of Kíli and Fíli. You all may drink a bit too much. Way too much. It may end with a King snoring on the table, a Dwalin draped over him, nearly crushing him, just as unconscious. You'll remember this night forever.

Ori :

Oh, Ori. So sweet. Library dates? Library dates. But not today, he'll drag himself from the darkness for you, take you out walking with him, shyly holding your hand. He'll have knit you things. Fingerless gloves with delicate stitches in black yarn. A matching hat and scarf. He'll blush at the sight of you wearing it, happy to have given you things to keep warm with.

A small leather bound book finds its way into your hands as well, put there hastily by him, declaring you should read it later, when you're alone. They'll contain little poems about you, haikus and notes, sweet thoughts that he has about you accumulated here in his neat penmanship. Dried and pressed flowers and herbs between some of the pages, sketches of other plants. It's sweet and must've taken a long time to make.

He probably won't plan a party, but his brothers will pick up the slack. A rented small pub packed with all your favorite people. Ori will stay by your side all night, even shedding some of his shyness after a couple ales, fingers locked with yours as you dance on a merry tune late that night. Giving you small kisses when he thinks no one is looking. Bigger kisses when he's sure about it. And more later, when you drag him back to your room.

Dwalin :

Dwalin is practical. He doesn't really ask about your birthday preferences beforehand. Instead when you wake in his arms in the morning, he's already awake and gruffly congratulates you on turning a year older. He'll congratulate you a lot. If you get my drift.

His gifts are practical as well, things you needed, and have mentioned to him in the past. Nice to know he cares and listens, right? He wordlessly slips a silver ring with a small white gem onto one of your fingers after, this one a little less practical and more like a promise but he knows the significance of rings to humans and his cheeks feel warm under his beard as though he'd just slipped a marriage bead onto a braid in your hair. It's cute.

I don't think he'd want to part with you a single moment or share you with anyone today. Celebrations will wait until tomorrow, he had decided and spends all day catering to your whims. No request denied even if you get cheeky with them. He'll just huff a small laugh and do it anyway. Rub your feet, kiss you once, twice, thrice, twenty times. Fetch that quill, and regretting it when you set upon him with it, tickling him. His only weakness that only you know. But he won't mind, loving your laughter and grins and he'll get his revenge later anyway.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! It got a bit long lol

Requests still open!

#hobbit #the hobbit #the hobbit fic #hobbit fic #hobbit imagines #hobbit imagine #thorin #thorin oakenshield #fili #fili durin #kili #kili durin #bofur #bilbo #bilbo baggins #ori #dwalin #dwalin fundin

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miss-alice-evelynn · 4 years

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The Sun, the Moon and the Stars ... part 1

Bluebell Baggins was a fairly normal hobbit. Yes she was thank you very much. Her parents were Bungo and Belladonna Baggins and she was their only child which was rather odd for a hobbit. Most hobbit families were made up of many children. Not hers though.

Bluebell lived in her lovely hobbit hole that her father had built for him and his darling wife. Belladonna was a graceful hobbit with beautiful features but to much dismay she passed when Bluebell was but a child. Bungo was heartbroken but it comforted him when he watched Bluebell grow with the same grace and beauty that her mother did.

Like most hobbit holes, Bag End had many rooms. The cellar and pantry were filled with tasty foods and delectable treats, as well as the finest ale and wine that the Shire had to offer. Bluebell was a talented cook and could concuct all manner of dishes that were known throughout Hobbiton. She was also a gracious host and quite enjoyed visitors.

Bluebell had beautiful light brown locks that draped down the sides of her rounded face. Her cheeks were kissed by the sun, freckled and rosy. At that moment, it was night time and Bluebell was readying herself for supper. One of her favourite meals of the day. She quite enjoyed eating beside the warm embers of the fire. It made her sleep better she found.

That night however, she was disrupted by a band of dwarves.

The first to arrive was Dwalin. He made himself at home by hanging up his cloak and eating her supper. She wouldn't be angry. If anything, Bluebell was greatly bewildered by it all.

Balin came next, his white beard illuminating the room as much as the crackling fire. He sat and talked with his brother, though Bluebell was a stranger to their familiar connections.

Next came Fili and Kili, the youngest of the dwarves that would arrive that night.

Gandalf and the rest of the dwarves piled through the door. Well, actually they fell though the door and created a dwarf pile in front of the round door. Bluebell would have laughed if she wasn't so confused.

"What is going on?" She questioned the wizard impatiently. "I don't understand where all these dwarves came from."

Gandalf shushed her and accompanied the dwarves into the larder. Bluebell almost fainted when she saw them all stuffed into the dining room, romming her food into their greedy mouths. Hobbits and dwarves shared massive appetites but it would seem that dwarves tended to forget meal etiquette. Bluebell couldn't help but stifle a laugh when she saw two of the dwarves, Oin and Gloin, throw food into Bombur's mouth. It was a rather amusing sight.

The last dwarf to arrive was a rather important one. Oh, very important indeed.

Thorin Oakenshield stared into her eyes as he entered the hobbit hole, Bluebell watched him with much curiosity as he conversed with Gandalf and his brethren.

"This is the burglar?" He asked, Bluebell detected a faint smirk hiding underneath his beard.

"Burglar?" She squeaked. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

Thorin circled her like a vulture, studying her close. "What's your weapon of choice, hobbit?"

Bluebell furrowed her eyebrows together. She didn't have chance to demand what he meant for Gandalf ushered Thorin into the dining room, making sure he was fed.

Bluebell nibbled on a biscuit beside the fireplace as she watched the dwarves eat. Soon after Thorin pushed his plate aside and took out a golden harp with a green handle from beneath his cloak.

"Come, fellow dwarves," he beckoned. "Let us play. Take arms."

Ori raised his hand, "I don't have my flute!"

Dori smirked, "I have a spare one."

Bluebell tilted her head as sweet music filled the air. She became intoxicated by the music, even more so when Thorin began to sing. His voice was melodic yet low. Bluebell wasn't quite listening to the lyrics but the meaning was there.

It was a song of home.

Her Took side came forth, she could only think of the adventure. Mountains and hills. Excitement. She may just be a hobbit but... she felt adventurous. She decided right then and there that she would help them, even if it was a wild notion.

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #female bilbo baggins #female bilbo #thorinxbilbo #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield #ao3 #also on ao3 #fanfiction

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thetimelesscycle · 5 years

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The Hobbit Fanfic: The Heart of Erebor - Chapter 65

Summary: ‘He could stand the wild light in his uncle’s gaze. He withstood the crazed glint that entered the ravenous stares of his companions. He endured seeing the dragon’s greed take them all. But when that madness seeped also into the eyes of his own beloved brother, he knew something had to be done. He just wasn’t expecting it to be this.’-The gold sickness of Erebor claims one more, and the path of destiny is irrevocably changed.

Inspired by the following quote from ‘The Hobbit’: “So grim had Thorin become, that even if they had wished, the others would not have dared to find fault with him; but indeed most of them seemed to share his mind-except perhaps old fat Bombur and Fili and Kili.”

*Cover Art Courtesy of Toastytoastie

/THE HEART OF EREBOR\

ACT VI -The King Beneath the Mountain-

Chapter 65

The Madness of Hope

It seemed strange to think that it had been less than a year ago that Kìli had stood upon the wall above Erebor’s shattered gate, believing all he had ever loved in the world was about to come to a violent and terrible end. He had been alone, abandoned and friendless, more afraid than he had ever been in his life, and certain that he was about to die. The despair he had felt in that moment remained engraved in his heart as one of the worst moments of his short life, and the days that had followed it had been no better, filled with grief and loss and pain.

And yet, it was just an echo now, an event that had been and gone. A past that felt far more distant than the short, intervening months should have allowed. He was doing his best to overlay such fading recollections with new memories, happier memories, not just for himself, but for those around him as well.

Some days it was easier than others. When wounds still raw were not yet open and weeping, and he could be enough to wrench a smile from beneath Fìli’s preoccupied frown, or to scatter the dark clouds that formed over his uncle’s head, to chase away the haunting memories that gripped his mother. Other days the events of the past were a weight they all felt, a veritable hammer above all their heads, just waiting for the opportune moment to pound them into the anvil of cruel fate.

The battles they had survived had left their scars, and he knew they would take time to fade; to heal.

Thorin’s coronation would go a long way towards accomplishing that, or so he hoped. Their victory certainly felt more certain now that the crown was resting upon his uncle’s brow. Now that oaths had been sworn and old alliances reformed. He was proud to have played a part in that, no matter how small that part might have been in the grand scheme of things. Proud of what they had accomplished, rising from the ashes of wrath and ruin to restore the Line of Durin to its rightful place amidst the Seven. Had this been one of Balin’s epics, the adventure would have ended the moment Thorin took his rightful place upon the throne. Sadly, if this quest had taught him anything at all, it was that the stories of old only ever told half the tale.

His own experiences had given him a new appreciation for the moments that the historians forgot. Those events deemed unimportant by the scholars who chose to study such things, dismissed in favour of great battles and the speeches that followed them. There would no doubt be countless retellings of the celebration that had marked the return of Erebor’s king, each more ridiculous than the last, especially with the inclusion of their elven guests. But he doubted anyone would remember him slipping away from the gathering, confident his absence would not be noticed with the festivities in full swing, to seek a moment’s solitude and reflection in what was swiftly becoming one of his favourite haunts.

The view from the wall above Erebor’s gate was a world away from what it had been months before. Gone was the pool of dammed water, meant to hold the war camp that had lain further down the valley at bay. Gone were the dotted gatherings of campfires, the sound of voices and metal carried on the wind. Gone was the terrible aftermath, the rows upon rows of dead and the stench of the wounded and the dying. Peace had slowly crept in to take the place of it all, nature gently wiping away the blood spilt upon its back, until nothing remained to speak of the tragedies that had unfolded in this place.

Where once the sight had brought him nothing but dread, Kíli could now take comfort in the vista laid out on the mountain’s doorstep. It was a sign of healing. A sign that, no matter the suffering that had passed here, time marched ever onwards, knitting over old wounds, bringing new hope to lift the afflicted from the mire of tragedy’s aftermath. He needed that faith right now as much as he had needed it then, a light to cling to, a vision of the future he could lay before others when darkness ensnared their thoughts and despair sunk its claws in deep.

Perched upon the parapet’s edge, his heels drumming an irregular beat against the stone seams, he let himself revel in the tranquility. It had been a long time since he had had a chance to simply sit and think, the world flowing peaceably by, and he intended to make the most of the moment while it lasted. Below him the celebration would continue, not stopping until well after the sun began to peek over the horizon. He did not begrudge them that, they had earned the right to their revelry, but he did not feel the need to join them. His victory was a quieter triumph, one he hoped he would be able to enjoy for years to come.

“There you are,” Fìli’s voice interrupted his musings, his brother’s uneven stride accompanied by the ‘thwap’ of his cane on the stone floor, and Kìli frowned briefly, wondering when Fìli had found time to retrieve it, and why he hadn’t asked someone to assist him up the stairs. His brother was not likely to appreciate either enquiry, however, so he held his tongue, keeping his gaze turned outwards as Fìli crossed the space between them. “You’re missing Bofur’s rousing rendition of The Cat Jumped Over the Moon.”

Kìli snorted, easily able to picture what such a thing would entail. He had, after all, seen it before. “A request from Elrohir?”

“Well, he did miss the original performance whilst we were in Rivendell.” Coming to stand beside him, Fìli leant his forearms on the wall, taking some of the weight off his bad leg. He waited a beat, letting the gentle breeze fill the space between them, then he asked, “What’s bothering you, Ki?”

“Nothing.” At his brother’s sharp look, he elaborated. “I really mean that, Fìli. Nothing is wrong right now. We’ve won. Erebor is at peace, Thorin has been crowned, and I… I think maybe I just wanted a moment to let that sink in. We’ve been so busy trying to make sure that everything else goes smoothly that there just hasn’t been time to… to… to just be.”

“I know what you mean.” Fìli nodded, his words a murmur. “It’s been months, and yet sometimes this still doesn’t feel real. Like a dream that could end at any minute.”

“I’m sure it will seem real enough once we actually have to take part in ruling Erebor,” Kìli interjected lightly, unwilling to surrender his hardwon sense of peace. “All those letters to write and documents to sign. My hand is aching just thinking about it.” That earned him an amused look, which he returned, before continuing in a more thoughtful vein, “In many ways, tonight is an ending, and not just for Bilbo’s book.”

Fìli cast him a curious look, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “What do you mean?”

“We set out from Ered Luin to reclaim our home,” Kìli reminded him, rubbing his hands together in his lap. “To take back a mountain from a dragon. It sounded simple enough to us at the time, I’m sure, and it could be argued that that journey ended when Smaug was slain. But I don’t think Erebor was ours again, not truly, until today.”

“You think you’ll be happy, then?” Fìli enquired, his tone mild, but his words earnest. “Calling Erebor home now?”

“My family is home.” Kìli shot him a wry grin. “It really doesn’t matter where we live.”

“Even if it means being a proper prince?” His brother challenged, and Kìli laughed.

“Even then. I think I’m starting to understand that there are worse fates.”

Fìli was silent for a long moment, staring out into the night, and his words, when they came, were almost a confession. “I don’t know if I can look at it the way you do. Sometimes… Sometimes this all feels like a prison, and I don’t know if that will ever change. Everyone says it will just take time, but…”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Kìli ventured, unsure if Fìli wanted him to speak, or was simply airing his fears aloud. “And you don’t have to stay, Fì. If going back to Ered Luin would help, or paying a visit to Rivendell, then that is what you should do. Erebor doesn’t have to come first.”

“And that is why you are not going to be king,” Fìli teased him, if weakly. “Your priorities are all askew.”

“I am going to be your advisor,” Kìli reached across to swat his sibling lightly on the head. “And that gives me leave, oh future king, to rearrange your priorities however I please.”

Fìli raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. “I do not see that working for Balin.”

“Yes, well, we both know Uncle Thorin is far too stubborn for such a strategy to be effective.”

“Oh.” Now he was affecting offence. “And I am more easily persuaded?”

“Of course. I will simply fill your room with boxes of apples fresh from Dale’s orchards and you will be halfway to Rivendell before you can say ‘burglar’.”

“Apples?” Fìli groaned. “Kìli, how could you betray me like this? Throwing your lot in with my one, true nemesis.”

“And here I was thinking that was stairs.”

“Hey.” Fìli’s indignant shove nearly sent his brother tumbling right off the wall. Laughing, Kìli overcompensated, falling backwards instead to land at his elder’s feet. Fìli glared down at him, imperious, and that only made him laugh harder until Fìli let out an annoyed huff and lowered himself down to sit beside his sibling. “You are an ass.”

Still chuckling, Kìli reached out to pat Fìli’s knee in only half mocking apology, before settling back with both his arms behind his head. His shoulder twinged slightly at the motion, but it was a passing pain, easily ignored as he let his eyes settle on the starlit sky above. Fìli was only a moment in joining him, the sigh that escaped his lips one of contentment more than sorrow, and Kìli was willing to let the silence stretch, a blanket of comfortable familiarity between them both.

He had meant what he said. Tonight was an ending. The end of the quest to reclaim Erebor, the end of so many fears; so many battles and old, untended wounds. The end of one chapter, and yet the beginning of another. The next day would dawn with Thorin as Erebor’s King, with Fìli and Kìli as princes and councillors officially sworn into their new roles. There would be decisions to make, meetings to attend, alliances to cement, duties to uphold. It should have terrified him, the weight of responsibility upon his - upon their - shoulders, but he was not afraid.

The Line of Durin had survived dragon fire, had survived madness and death and treachery. Though the challenges that lay before them were great, Kìli was surprised to realise that they no longer daunted him as they once had. Something had shifted, in the moment Thorin had been crowned, or before that even, when he had placed the Arkenstone in the hands of his fallen uncle and felt the rightness of that choice. He had no doubt that there would be further mistakes going forward, choices that would gnaw away at him, reminding him of the lives he was responsible for, the duties a Son of Durin could not escape.

But he was not alone.

That which he had sacrificed to try and save had been restored to him, a reward for his faith, a lesson learned and remembered. He had been prepared to give the Arkenstone away like a worthless trinket because he was afraid of losing that which he held most dear, and in so doing he had uncovered the true Heart of the Mountain. It was not the jewel that had so bewitched Thror and Thorin after him, or the gold that ran in rivers within the treasuries of the king. No, the beating heart of the Lonely Mountain was to be found in the merrymaking taking place in the Great Hall, in the laughter ringing out from every corner, in the quiet that had settled over he and his brother, restful and content. These moments, and the bonds that forged them, were what gave Erebor life; riches that could never be measured or bought.

It had taken him a long time to realise that simple truth, to understand that that was what he was sworn to protect, as a Son of Durin, a Prince of Erebor. He would never be a ruler with the power and authority that Thorin wielded, nor did he have Fìli’s sense of duty and calm steadiness, but he was beginning to realise that lack was not the failing he had always assumed it to be. The Seven may well have been right in their assertions that he would have made a poor king, caring too much for one thing and too little for the other, but he didn��t need to be what they thought he should be.

He had been spared the gold sickness because he had no use for wealth. He had given the Arkenstone away because Thorin and Fìli and the Company were simply more important in his eyes. He had turned his back on his birthright to gamble instead on the slim chance his kinsmen were alive. He had sought aid from those considered to be the enemy without a second’s thought. He had made so many choices that had caused others to shake their heads in scorn or despair or both. And yet… he could not regret the future those choices had brought him. A future that might never have been had he listened to the words of others. Had he chosen to believe as they did, and abandon a course of action they had deemed madness.

And it had been. He recognised that now. Not gold sickness or the dragon’s curse or grief or rage, but his own kind of insanity. To trust in good fortune in lands that had long been abandoned by the same. To believe when all others beliefs had died. To dare to stand against the tide and rage at the abyss… what else was that but madness? A year ago, he had sat atop this same wall and wished that he could share in the sickness that had taken his friends from him, his family. He had known it was wrong, but he had wished it all the same, never once realising that the curse of Erebor's treasure had found no foothold in his mind because another madness had already preceded it. So he could ask himself the same question again now; Was it wrong to wish for madness? And the answer, too, would be unchanged.

Yes.

Yes, it was.

For madness had already taken him.

The madness of hope.

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