fellowshipofthefics

[fellowshipofthefics]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Implied Celebrimbor/Narvi, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Durin III Characters: Celebrimbor (Tolkien), Durin III (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Epistolary, Friendship, War of the Elves and Sauron, Angst Summary:

After Narvi’s death, Durin III tried to support Celebrimbor.

Sauron’s treachery made that impossible.

Written for the Day 5 prompts, Love, Creation

#silmarillion #celebrimbor #durin III #celebrimbor x narvi #silmarillion fanfic #ladybrooke #tw: major character death

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❅ Prompt: Fairytale & flowers (sweet bingo) | Melkor x Mairon ❅ Synopsis: We all know the tale of Beauty and the Beast, but what if Beauty was corrupted? ❅ Warnings: / ❅ Drabble

» AN: So back in November/December I received an ask suggesting two different ideas for the fairytale prompt on my November list and I liked both of them so much that I kept the one I didn't end up writing around. Anon, I don't know if you're here or if you see this, but: This one's for you too ^^

"My rose-!" 

Melkor froze, clawed hands outstretched. His massive, monstrous frame blotted out the moonlight, yet for all his might he was powerless. 

Mairon turned to face him. The rose, the fate of the entire castle, was in his hand, and he inspected it as if he had just received a gift from a lover. 

"To be loved as you are," Mairon sighed wistfully, though a devilish smirk tugged on his full, rosy lips. "But what if I don't want a prince? What if I prefer a beast, and to be one myself?"

And the rose wilted in his grasp.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @stormchaser819 @wandererindreams

#silmarillion #melkor #sauron #melkor x mairon #silmarillion fanfic #cilil

[fellowshipofthefics]

Fic Update

Coming back leaves Glorfindel lost in more ways than one. Thankfully, Erestor knows how to read a map.

Chapter 3 up, in which we've got ~*~fancy clothes~*~! Featuring Elrond Peredhel as A Guy Who Knows Things! With special cameo appearance by High King Gil-Galad Ereinion!

Also featuring 'this got a little longish so now there's also going to be a Chapter 4.'

#lord of the rings #erestor #glorfindel #erestor x glorfindel #lord of the rings fic #twelfthadept

[fellowshipofthefics]

The book tells us that after the Fellowship left Lothlorien, Frodo fell asleep in his boat and awoke "well-wrapped" under a tree.

Who moved him?

#The Lord of the Rings #Boromir #Frodo Baggins #lord of the rings fic #ceterisparibus

[fellowshipofthefics]

giggling and kicking my feet reading my own fanfiction that I wrote

#writer positivity

[fellowshipofthefics]

❅ Prompt: Cosy Times | Mairon x Arien x Eönwë ❅ Synopsis: Eönwë wants to show his gratitude for a job well done. Arien decides to spice things up. ❅ Warnings: Bondage, sexual content ❅ Drabble

» AN: Another one for the Almaren crew, this time based on a conversation I had with @maironite a while ago. Enjoy!

"Eönwë tells me you have been doing wonderful work," Arien cooed, her lips tracing Mairon's jawline. 

Eönwë let out a small noise of affirmation. He was kneeling between Mairon's legs, sucking him off with dutiful enthusiasm. 

"All you need to do now is relax and let us reward you," Arien continued. 

Mairon clenched his fists, holding himself back from setting the ribbons that bound his wrists and ankles to the bedposts on fire. "If you wish to pleasure me there is no need for restraints." 

"I know." Arien leaned in for a kiss, smiling. "But you look prettier like this..."

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

#silmarillion #arien #eönwë #mairon #eonwe x arien #eonwe x mairon #mairon x arien #silmarillion fanfiction #cilil #tw: explicit

[fellowshipofthefics]

Happy Sunday, Fellowship! 💜

Writers, now is your chance to tease one of your works! Share with us (approximately) six sentences on the story you're working on. If you don't have anything to share just yet, go add six sentences to your current WIP!

Readers, do you want to participate? Challenge yourself to leaving a 6 sentence comment on a fanfic, or even one of the six sentence snippets shared by your favorite writers!

#six sentence sunday

[fellowshipofthefics]

The first chapter of my Taurwen Post-BoTFA fic is complete! Tauriel struggles to move on after the Battle of the Five Armies, so Legolas suggests she go to the house of Elrond for healing. Let's see how it goes!

#the hobbit #arwen undomiel #tauriel #tauriel x arwen #hobbit fic #phantasmechanical

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Fanfiction rec!

A Shot in the Dark by Silver_Pup

A time travel fix-it fic! Bilbo lives out his life only to be pulled back in time. And this time around, he is determined that not only will all of his companions survive their adventure, but his dear nephew Frodo will never ever set eyes on a certain ring.

Everybody lives, nobody dies, Bilbo is a badass, and his dwarves love him more than life itself. Especially their King!

I started and finished reading this fic on the same day. I literally couldn’t stop reading it. I was awake until 4am because my brain wouldn’t shut up and let me sleep until I finished it. It was that good.

The dwarves and Bilbo were just one big happy family it was so cuuuute!!! 😭 Seriously Silver_pup put SO much love into every single character. It was so well done. This right here is a fic for the bookmarks!!!

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bilbo x thorin #hobbit fic #silver pup

[fellowshipofthefics]

Winter Prompt, hot beverages - Gothmog/Melkor?

❅ Prompt: Hot Beverages | Gothmog x Melkor ❅ Synopsis: Gothmog attempts to comfort and take care of his lord with a sweet treat. ❅ Warnings: / ❅ Double drabble

» AN: Always happy to see a request for these two. Hope you enjoy!

"And I am so tired all the time and everything hurts and nothing is fun anymore..." 

Melkor sits slumped over on his throne and lets out a deep sigh, lamenting the terrible fate that has befallen him. 

"It just isn't fair." 

"I know," Gothmog quickly reassures him and pats his back with one large hand, the other clutching a small cup. He's in the process of melting its contents with the heat of his fána, some chocolate and milk he has stolen from an elven camp.

When Melkor falls silent, Gothmog hastily stirs the mixture with one of his claws and offers it to him. 

"Here. I made this for you." 

The Vala takes a whiff of the sweet treat, recognition flashing in his eyes. "I used to drink this a long time ago..." 

Relieved, Gothmog pushes the cup into his hands. "And you liked it, remember?" 

"I did..." 

Melkor drinks slowly, and a small smile appears on his face. 

"Thank you, Gothmog." 

"Always, my lord." 

Gothmog continues to rub his back to comfort him and ease the tension in his muscles. Even if Melkor has trouble remembering things sometimes, he's more than happy to be there and remind him. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy- @bluezenzenni @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

#silmarillion #gothmog #morgoth #gothmog x melkor #silmarillion fanfiction #cilil

[fellowshipofthefics]

At The Heart Of Time

        After almost a year and a half of travelling, adventuring, running, fleeing, hiding, fighting, and, worst of all, riding ponies, Bilbo Baggins had met more Dwarves than he had ever expected to. It had never been unusual for the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains to pass through the Shire on their journeys, but they usually stayed closer to the borders of Hobbitish territory rather than venturing anywhere near Hobbiton. More often than not, they were found in Bree, if they were to be found in that part of Middle Earth at all. Before meeting Thorin and the rest of the Company, Bilbo had never met a Dwarf. He had only heard about them in stories or whispered rumour.

            And now that Erebor was once again a home to Dwarves at last, Bilbo was veritably surrounded by them. And though they did not have the best of manners, and they did not appreciate a straight stitch for the most part, and they did not realize that it was quite rude to steal food off of someone else’s plates, Bilbo found that he was quite fond of Durin’s Folk, indeed. They were brave and honourable people. Even though they had initially been wary of Bilbo, and perhaps a tad rude, the Dwarves of Erebor had eventually come to respect Bilbo as well as they knew how.

read the rest on AO3. reblogs of this post are encouraged/appreciated.

taglist below. please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed. :)

@lordoftherazzles @mirkwood @gondolindon @glamdolf @hobbitwrangler

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #hobbit fic #MK

[fellowshipofthefics]

writers and artists will go "this isn't good enough." my brother in christ, you're creating something new out of nothing and expressing yourself creatively. your productivity and unrealistic standards of perfection do not define you or the worth of your art. you're doing great.

#writer positivity

[fellowshipofthefics]

April - Eönwë x Arafinwë

Here's the last one I got sent in, for the moment, and it's another one my darling reader MoonLord has sent in :D

This turned a little darker and sadder than I wanted, so please heed the tags!

Lots of love!

Pairing: Eönwë x Arafinwë (Russingon, Fëanor & Fingolfin & Finarfin)

Prompts: Friendship, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Shapeshifting

Words: 2050

Warnings: sadness, self-mutilation, canonical death, despair, loss, bad news

“You came,” Arafinwë sobbed, his whole body slumping forward as if he was tempted to throw himself against the broad chest of his mighty friend. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Eönwë steeled himself to keep from flinching back from the bleak despair radiating in violent waves from the frail frame of the esteemed Elven king; he never knew how to deal with the unbridled, often outright shamelessly emotional outbursts of the Children, and he was afraid of distressing his friend even further by reacting inappropriately.

“How can I be of service?” the herald thus asked cautiously, extending a gentling hand which Arafinwë instantly clutched like a lifeline.

“My brothers,” he whispered, tears staining his fair face. “My heart aches fiercely, and I’m filled with dread that some dark fate has befallen them.”

This time, Eönwë did take a step back—it was forbidden to quest in thought or feeling for those who’d callously deserted the Blessed Realm, and he felt the stern gaze of his Master on the back of his neck even now.

All the non-committal words of illusionary comfort he was expected to dispense, though, died on his tongue in the face of the unembellished misery contorting his friend’s handsome face.

“I know not,” Eönwë finally said. “They’ve chosen their own destiny by removing themselves from the goodwill and protection of the Valar.”

“But you could find out,” Arafinwë wailed and surged forward to dig his fingers into Eönwë’s tunic in a gesture so shockingly disrespectful and undeniably desperate that the benevolent Maia didn’t even have the heart to chide him for his presumptuous trespass. “You are not a prisoner of these lands.”

“Neither are you,” Eönwë reminded him kindly. “Neither were they.”

At that gentle remonstrance, Arafinwë’s face fell like a heap of ashes blown astray by Manwë’s mighty winds.

“I’ve tried to leave once before,” the King of what remained of the Ñoldor breathed mournfully. “I couldn’t do it—and I dare not provoke the wrath of those who’ve welcomed me back so graciously now. I ask this as a friend—could you not travel hither and assuage the fear devouring my very soul?”

It was a terrible idea, Eönwë knew, and he should have declined. By rights and custom, he should have relegated this matter to Nienna or Estë for they would have found the right words to pacify Arafinwë.

Instead, he felt his head dip in a silent, grave nod.

Arafinwë reminded him of a failing fledgling, left behind in a deserted nest by his foolhardier siblings, and Eönwë’s heart bled for the stark loneliness that enveloped the pitiful wretch like an acrid stench; the herald, after all, was a being made to follow and obey, and—in this—his heart commanded him to break the rules to bring peace to one who’d so bravely contained all notions of strife and war within his brittle soul to spare those around him.

Surely, those who lived in and on faith all their life deserved to be granted knowledge from time to time as a reward for their blind, unwavering, oft perilous belief.

“I cannot, I shall not intervene,” Eönwë reminded the sorrowful supplicant. “As a reward for your enduring love and diligence, I will grant you this boon, though—I’ll find out what happened to your brothers and tell you posthaste.”

He did not share the price and suffering he’d take upon himself to do so—these were no concerns for a mere incarnate, and his desire was not to place the burden of guilt onto Arafinwë’s frail shoulders.

“Thank you,” the Elf cried, sinking to his knees and making to kiss the hem of Eönwë’s garment.

“Desist,” Eönwë expostulated and joined the other on the cool, damp ground, cupping his pale cheek tenderly and brushing a rough thumb across the wet skin. “You have been a good, loyal friend to me, and I love you well, son of Finwë. I shall accept your amicable gratitude, but you shan’t abase yourself before me.”

Watery eyes were slowly lifted pleadingly, and Eönwë at once bent forward to press his lips soothingly to that pallid, sorrowful brow.

“Be careful,” Arafinwë said with such genuine fervour that the other couldn’t help but yearn to subdue the tremor in those full lips by moving his own down a shapely cheek to the source of so innocent and foolish an exclamation.

“Worry not about me, dear,” Eönwë cooed. “Go home and make peace with your wife. I shall seek you out as soon as I’m back!”

“Milord!” Arafinwë mumbled into that sweet, comforting kiss before bowing sharply. “I shall await you impatiently!”

As he watched his heartened friend slowly walk back to his splendid abode, Eönwë turned his radiant face to the dark ocean and took a shivering breath—he was undaunted by the cruel steps he’d have to undertake to fulfil his promise, yet he dreaded his master’s just wrath if his base betrayal would come to light.

There was no hiding the truth from Manwë’s far-seeing eyes, so his diligent, hopelessly optimistic herald had to make haste before the mighty Vala could intervene to prevent him from leaving.

Drawing his sword—glistening like the embodiment of solace and vengeance alike—he did what had to be done unflinchingly.

Upon setting foot on the defiled soil, churning with frantic anger and hurt, Eönwë froze.

He’d known Fëanáro’s essence since the time it had slowly poisoned and snuffed out his mother’s soul, and he was reeling with fatigue and shock as he realised that he could not sense it anywhere.

“No,” he whispered. “No, he should be here.”

Slowly and cautiously, he lifted his face into the fetid breeze.

He could sense Fëanáro’s sons, sullen, agonising, diminished, but the one he’d come for was not among them.

Shrugging uncomfortably, he set out in search of Nelyafinwë who, he hoped, would be able to tell him of the fate about which he sought knowledge and reassurance.

After a long, wearying walk, Eönwë finally reached the stark, grey walls surrounding that dour fortress over which ruled the firstborn son of the famed Spirit of Fire—conjuring up dignified equanimity from the depths of his nascent despair, he did neither flinch nor protest when he heard a soldier announce that there was a beggar at the door.

Instead, he schooled his face into a pleasant smile in joyous expectation of having gotten closer to his goal.

He was left waiting in cold, draughty rooms for a shocking amount of time before a shadow so dark it made his very soul shiver fell upon him.

“Herald,” Nelyafinwë rasped in surprise. “You’re bleeding.”

“How did you recognise me?” Eönwë gasped, his mind awhirl with thoughts and observations that made his stomach drop.

The once gloriously beautiful Elven prince had grown gaunt and hollow-eyed, and his snarl was more reminiscent of a bleeding wound than of the radiant smile Eönwë remembered so well.

“I’ve lived through too many unspeakable horrors to be deceived by so weak a glamour,” the Lord of the stronghold chuckled mirthlessly. “You did not have to mutilate yourself—your light gives you away.”

Eönwë flinched—if he’d still had his wings, they would have quivered in alarm, but, in his present form, he merely winced violently.

“Your uncle sends me,” he then explained. “I’ve come from the Blessed Realm, risking much as you can imagine, to supply news about Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë to my dear friend. What can you tell me?”

Shaking his head regretfully, Nelyafinwë gave a crooked shrug that revealed the heavily bandaged stump of his hand which gave Eönwë another painful jolt—Thorondor had declined to speak about what he’d seen on his daring, sanctioned rescue mission, and it was his tight-lipped refusal to impart any wisdom pertaining to the state of things that had eventually pushed poor Arafinwë into making such foolhardy demands and heart-wrenching pleas.

“You can tell Arafinwë that he shan’t worry about my father ever again; Fëanáro won’t come to wrench his precious crown off his golden head. He’s dead and, as per Námo’s dark declaration, will never be seen again.”

“Why, that cannot be true!” Eönwë exclaimed, feeling oddly betrayed by the cold words that buffetted him like a volley of sharp blades, inexorably piercing him to the core of his being.

Surely, if that was so, Manwë would have known and so would Vairë and Námo—undoubtedly, they would not have withheld so grievous a fact from Arafinwë.

“There’s nought here to learn, herald,” Nelyafinwë muttered. “We’re dispersed like bad seeds, unable to take root, doomed to never thrive. I suppose you’ll see High King Ñolofinwë next—extend my greetings to His Highness.”

He hesitated for a near-imperceptible moment before adding, “And express my warmest regards to Prince Findekáno. Tell him that I’m still devoted to my labour of mending the rift between us.”

An incongruous, frightening sense of urgency had slipped into his hoarse, monotone voice now.

“May you find better tidings at their camp,” Nelyafinwë said, not unkindly, and swept out of the room without turning back.

Eönwë cursed himself for having discarded his wings in an act of agonising folly for his progress through the war-torn lands was slow and arduous.

When he finally reached his destination, his heart was heavy and his soul so tense that he feared that it might break under the slightest additional strain or blow.

“Hail…” he exclaimed when he saw Prince Findekáno walk towards him, but the courteous words of greeting died on his tongue as he registered the tears running down those shockingly concave cheeks he’d remembered as round and perpetually set in motion by quick smiles and witty remarks.

“Eönwë,” Findekáno sighed, visibly trying to pull himself together. “Have you come to intercede in my father’s favour?”

Remembering his vow, Eönwë shook his head slowly. “Where is Ñolofinwë? His brother much desires to have news from him, and I’ve taken it upon me to procure them.”

“Ah, the losses, the madness,” the prince sighed in profound hopelessness. “My father, the High King, has ridden out on his own to challenge Morgoth to a fight.”

At that, Eönwë frowned. Level-headed and wise, the Ñolofinwë he’d watched grow from a steadfast, jolly elfling toddling behind his unbearably haughty half-brother would never have undertaken so stupidly temerarious and futile an enterprise as to goad a Vala into single combat.

He could not have imagined hearing anything more absurd and unlikely than Fëanáro bursting into flame and abandoning his sons to carry out his otiose plans—nevertheless, now he learned that Indis’s firstborn was moribund as well.

“Maybe we can stop him,” Eönwë cried, his voice echoing through the deserted courtyard like the screeching of a huge bird of prey caught in a vicious trap. “We must prevent such a senseless sacrifice!”

“It’s too late,” Findekáno declared in the shivering voice of one trying to contain more anguish and pain than his mind could even comprehend. “I’m sorry that you shan’t convey better news to my uncle. Have you heard about Fëanáro?”

All Eönwë could do was to nod. For some reason, which was absolutely mystifying to him, he couldn’t stop moving his head to and fro as if the rhythmical motion could dislodge the cutting splinters of terrible knowledge burrowing into his mind mercilessly.

“It’s not safe here,” Findekáno whispered urgently. “You must away before anyone can see you and get the wrong idea. There shall be enough disappointment and mourning without having a spy instead of a warrior in our midst. Go back and send my loving greetings to Arafinwë.”

Sputtering, Eönwë relayed Nelyafinwë’s message—prompting the first genuine reaction of joy in the soon-to-be High King of the Ñoldor—and went on his way once more.

As he threw himself into Ulmo’s arms, ready to accept whatever punishment the Valar saw fit for his devastating excursion, Eönwë couldn’t help thinking that he’d not only have to tell his dear friend that his brothers were dead, but that he’d also be the bearer of widowhood and maternal loss, quailing before the immense grief of excellent women he’d hitherto respected and liked.

He had left a hero, a bringer of hope, and he’d return as a dull, throbbing beacon of endless mourning.

-> Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics Here's another one!

Thank you so much for being on this ride with me!

#silmarillion #Eönwë #Arafinwë #Eönwë x Arafinwë #silmarillion fic #i did not mean to #tw: self harm

[fellowshipofthefics]

Happy Friday, Fellowship! 💛

Fic recs are the best way to help promote someone else’s works! Find some of your favorite fics, they could be WIPs, completed, old, new, whatever you want to share, and rec at least (1) of them for us and your followers to see! Who knows, it might just be the fic someone out there is looking for!

Bonus: tag the author (if possible) and share with us why you are recommending this fic!

#fic rec friday

[fellowshipofthefics]

And the request for the Winter prompts - Hope - Ulmo/Turgon

❅ Prompt: Hope | Ulmo x Turgon ❅ Synopsis: After Turgon refused to heed Ulmo's warning, Ulmo visits him in a dream. ❅ Warnings: / ❅ Drabble

» AN: Hope you enjoy this one, anon!

"Why would you not listen, beloved? Why would you not heed my warning?" 

"You promised me once that we would be safe here, that there was a place where death and ruin shall not befall us. I trusted you." 

"I know. And I meant it, truly; but the Doom is ever approaching."

"Can you not release me from it? Can you not protect me like before?" 

"I cannot." 

Turgon found himself pulled into a cool, wet embrace, though the sensation was dimmed by the dream. 

"I am sorry. And I promise that one day you will be safe... with me."

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

#silmarillion #ulmo #turgon #ulmo x turgon #silmarillion fanfiction #cilil

[fellowshipofthefics]

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Five

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all. 

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle. 

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…  

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm 

Warnings: None 

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List:  @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard

@legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being

@rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz

@knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell

@jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321

@dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith

@asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

@night-ace

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Thorin heard the laughter coming from the paddock before he reached it and as he drew near and caught sight of Heather astride a pony on her own, he stopped in his tracks. Her silvery laughter rang out across the open field, mingling with Fíli’s and for a moment, Thorin envied the peace, the innocence, that surrounded Heather. She never need know what happened to her father, other than he’d not frighten her again, that he’d not ever lay another angry hand upon her again. 

He only regretted that he had not been the one to let Asharm know exactly what he thought of men who raised fists to women or children. Still, not being able to do that was a small price to pay, since Sophie had taken care of Asharm for once and for all. He would never trouble them again.

With that, he crossed to the fence, where he found Dís watching as well and she looked up as he leaned on the rail alongside her. “Is everything all right?”

He nodded slowly. “It is now.”

“Good.” The beads in her braids clicked against one another. “Dwalin said you went into Esgaroth? There was an accident on the Long Lake?”

“There was, and that is all I will say about it.”

Another soft clatter of stones. “So, will Mrs. Asharm be remaining with us here?”

“I think so, yes.”

“And will you make an honest woman of her?”

“Dís.”

“That little girl needs a father.” Dís nodded in Heather’s direction. “Are you prepared to step up into that role?”

“I rather thought I already had.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and yes.”

“Kíli is planning to depart for Mirkwood in the coming days. He plans to formally ask Tauriel for her hand.”

Thorin bit back his grin. “And how do you feel about this?”

“An elf, Thorin. She is an elf.”

“I know.”

“But she’s also the reason he is alive today.” Dís looked over at him. “How do I deny him my blessing when I know she truly cares for him?”

“I don't suppose you can.”

“So, it seems I will have an elf daughter-in-law and a sister-in-law who is of Man. Our family is growing interesting.”

He chuckled, his gaze going back to Heather, who was listening intently to whatever Fíli was saying. “Erebor’s princess is also of Man.”

“I like her, Thorin. I like both of them.” She looked over at him again. “And I think they will both be happy here.”

“I hope so. And do not worry about Kíli. He knows what he is doing. And Tauriel is a fine match for him. They’ll be happy.” He glanced over at Heather, and then turned back to his sister. “Would you prefer it if I went with him?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I think Fíli is going with him and they will be fine.”

“Have you spoken to Dwalin?”

“Thorin.”

“Oh, am I overstepping?” He turned to her, resting one arm on the topmost slat of the fence. “He’s miserable without you, you know. What did he do, that you’re angry with him?”

“He did nothing. And I thought we were discussing Kíli.”

“We were, and we’ve both come to the conclusion that he’s grown and of age to decide for himself who to take as a bride. And since we’ve straightened out my love life as well, that leaves yours as the only one in disarray. So, give over and tell me or at least tell him and put the lad out of his misery.”

“He told me about his outing with Mrs. Asharm, when she first came here.”

Thorin smiled even as his gut kinked as well. “It was nothing, you know. They shared not even a kiss.”

“I know, but…” She sighed softly, shaking her head. “She is stunning. How do I compete with that?”

“Dis, there is no competing with her. He is not interested in her.”

“Because of his friendship with you.”

“No, he knows who his One is, Dís. And it is not Sophie. So, now that you know this, will you at least talk to him?”

“I have spoken with him, Thorin. He wishes to marry.”

This was news to him. “He does?” 

“Aye. He asked me last eve.”

“He never said a word to me.”

“I told him no.”

“Wait… what? The two of you have been dancing about each other since we returned here, both wanting the same thing, but neither one having the courage to speak up, and when he does, you turn him down?”

“I’m too old, Thorin. Too old and set in my ways and I have my boys to think of.”

“Nonsense,” he told her flatly, pushing away from the fence. “They are boys no more, Dís, and do not use them as your excuse. And as for being too old? You are an entire decade younger than me. Am I too old to think about a new life?” 

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, you’re the king. Your duty is to marry and produce an heir.”

“Nonsense. Fíli is my heir since there is no guarantee Sophie and I will be blessed with children of our own. Again, stop making excuses.”

“Even so.”

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

He nodded. “Do you love him? Because I’m fairly certain he loves you, Dís. So, do you love him?”

“I—I don't know. Perhaps. It’s been a long time, Thorin. I don't know… I don't know if I can open myself to that again. Vili was—he—he was… I thought he was my One.”

“I thought Elmaya was my One,” he replied softly. “I think perhaps even Mahal might make a mistake every now and again.”

“You did not have children with her, though.”

“No. I did nothing with her, aside from a few stolen kisses. But, Vili also would not want you mourning him if you had a chance to be happy, either.”

Dís turned her gaze back to Fíli and Heather, now both trotting back toward the stables on their respective mounts. “She’s quite the horsewoman. It won’t be long before she’ll be asking for a pony of her own.”

“Yule is coming.”

As if on cue, the first snowflakes of the season began to fall and Dís smiled as she looked up at him. “I do love him, Thorin. But… it’s frightening.”

“It is,” he nodded as Fíli and Heather disappeared into the stable, then he turned to his sister, “but it’s worth it in the end. Go talk to him. Before too much time passes and you end up regretting your silence.”

“Now I know why you hate when I butt in,” she told him with a smile. “But, thank you. And will you be taking your own advice?”

“I will,” he replied. “But first I need to speak with a certain little girl and see how she feels about my asking Sophie for her hand.”

Dís’ pale blue Durin eyes sparkled. “What if she says no?” 

“I’ll bribe her with chocolate cake until she says yes.”

She chuckled with him for a moment, but then her expression grew serious. “You will be a wonderful father, you know. To Miss Heather and to any children Mahal sees fit to bless you and Sophie with. I’ve always thought so, and now I look forward to seeing it.”

“Thank you, Dís. That means the world to me.” He leaned over to press his forehead to hers. “And I think you and Dwalin will surprise each other to no end when you finally both stop being so blasted stubborn.”

“Rather like you and Mrs. Ash—I mean, Sophie?”

“Exactly.”

“Mister Thorin! It’s snowing!”

He grinned, stepping away from the fence as Heather bolted toward him, catching her easily when she launched herself at him. “Mimûna, you will not be happy until to knock me over, will you?”

She let out a peal of silver laughter, wrapping her arms about his neck. “That’s silly! You’re a giant!”

Dís offered up a knowing smile. “You don't hear that often, do you, Thorin?”

“I do not. And it’s fine if Miss Heather thinks so.”

Heather leaned away from him to turn her pearly smile to Dís. “You look so pretty today, Lady Dís.”

“Why thank you, love,” Dís replied, tweaking one of Heather’s curls. “You are turning into quite the horsewoman.”

“Indeed she is,” Fíli replied as he joined them, tousling Heather’s hair gently. “I volunteered you to ride with her whilst I’m gone, Uncle. I told her you are almost as good a horseman as I am.”

“That was generous of you,” Thorin replied dryly.

“Kíli is going to the woods.” Heather turned back to him. “Where is that?”

“Mirkwood? It’s not far from here. Across the Long Lake and down the river a bit. Perhaps when you are older, we can travel there and I can introduce you to their king, Thranduíl. A fussy little wood sprite with leaves in his hair.”

“In his hair?”

Dís chuckled. “A fussy little wood sprite, indeed. Very well, Thorin, I will leave you and this lovely young lady to talk. Fíli, would you walk me back? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course. Until tomorrow, Miss Heather.” Fíli caught one of Heather’s hands in his and brushed the back of it with a playful kiss.

She giggled and drew her hand back. “That tickles! Bye, Fífi. Bye, Lady Dís.”

“Enjoy the snow,” Dís replied, tucking her arm through Fíli’s to allow him to escort her away from the paddock.

Snow swirled harder around them now and Heather blinked like mad as she peered up into it, her cheeks already rosy from the cold. “Can we play in the snow, Mister Thorin?”

“Perhaps later. There isn’t quite enough on the ground for playing just yet.” He shifted her slightly. “And there is something I needed to speak with you about. Something very serious.”

Her eyes widened. “Serious?”

“Oh, yes.” 

“Am I in trouble?”

She asked it so earnestly, her expression suggesting she feared his answer would be yes. He smiled, shaking his head. “No, Miss Heather. You are not in trouble. I promise.”

“Good. I thought I was.”

“Not at all.”

She leaned away from him, bringing her hands up to curve against his cheeks. “Is something wrong? You look sad.”

“Nothing is wrong, mimûna and I am not sad. It is simply I am in a serious sort of mood at the moment.”

He carried her away from the paddock, toward the walled courtyard off the infirmary. Snow fell harder now, softly swirling this way and that to coat the trees, the ground, in a layer of pure white that glowed as if lit from a moon hidden behind the clouds. The silence accompanying it was some of the most peaceful silence Thorin had ever heard and for the first time since learning of Sten Asharm’s existence, Thorin felt the weight lift from his shoulders. Sophie was free.

He glanced down at the little girl in his arms. Heather was safe. They were both safe. 

“Mister Thorin?”

“Yes, mimûna?”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’re very quiet. Mama gets quiet when she is sad.” Heather leaned away from him. “But you said you aren’t sad.”

“Just the opposite, love. I’m not sad at all. I’m actually quite happy.” He drew several wayward curls away from her face and then traced his finger along her cheek. “What about you, mimûna? Are you happy?”

She nodded. “I like it here.”

“And I like having you here. You and your mother. Would you be happy living here?”

Another nod. “I would. I’d miss Gimli if I had to go. And Mister Fífi. And Lady Dís.” Her eyes grew serious. “And I’d miss you, too…”

“I’d miss you as well, you know,” he told her softly. “Might I ask you a serious question?”

“A serious one?” Heather’s eyes went round. “How serious?”

“Very serious.”

She thought about it for a moment, then slowly nodded. “You can.”

His stomach tossed slightly, and he would have laughed at his own nervousness, if not for the fact that he genuinely valued what this one little girl would think about what he asked. “You know, I’m glad you and your ’amad came here, right?”

She nodded. “And I’m glad we did, too.”

“Good.” He smiled, giving her a gentle squeeze. “In the time that you’ve both been here, I’ve… I mean to say that I… well… Well… I love you. Both you and your mother. Very much, in fact. And I’d like you to both stay. Would you like to stay here, Miss Heather?”

She nodded again. “You just asked me that, Mister Thorin.”

“Right, I did, didn't I? I’m so sorry, mimûna, for I am nervous.”

“Nervous?”

He nodded. “Nervous.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like scared.”

“But you’re a king. Kings don't get scared.”

“They do indeed get scared from time to time. And you would be amazed at the reasons why.”

“Why are you scared?”

He gave her another gentle squeeze. “Your mother has become very important to me, you know. But you are also important to me. And I was wondering how you feel, if I were to ask her to marry me.”

Heather’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Would you be upset if I did?”

His heart beat faster as she stared at him for a long moment, but then she smiled and shook her head. “No, Mister Thorin. But—” 

She clamped her lips together, her brows pulled low as if something very heavy weighed upon her mind. He held her away slightly. “What is it, mimûna?”

“Would that make you my… how do you say it?”

His heart sped up again. “’Adad?”

“Is that papa in dwarf?”

He nodded slowly. “It is, yes.”

“Would you be mine?”

“Would you like me to be your ’adad, raklûna?”

“Yes.”

She said it softly, but for Thorin, it was like being punched in the gut in the nicest way possible and unexpected tears pricked the backs of his eyes. “I’d like it as well, uzbadnâtha.”

Heather slipped her arms more tightly about his neck and hugged him and in return, he wrapped her tighter as well. When she whispered, “We’ll be a real family,” Thorin would swear he felt his heart actually melt. 

“We will, indeed,” he told her, giving her yet another squeeze. “But, can you do me one very large favor?”

She leaned away from him again. “What?”

“I want to surprise your mother, so don’t let her know we’ve had this conversation until I’ve been able to ask her as well. Can you do that?”

“Keep a secret?”

He nodded. “Just for another day or so, though.”

“I can do that, Mister Thorin.”

“I knew you could.” 

She beamed at him. “Mama will be so happy.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“She will. I promise.” Heather brought her hands to his cheeks, her fingertips moving lightly along his beard. “Bristly.”

“So you’ve said,” he chuckled.

“Mister Thorin, does this mean I can have a baby brother or sister?”

“Perhaps one day, mimûna. First, I need to ask your mother and we will take it from there.”

“I’d really like a baby brother.”

“We will see, love. We will see. But first, there’s one more thing I need to ask you.”

Heather’s eyes went wide. “What?”

He smiled. “Will you help me?”

She nodded, more serious than he’d ever seen her look. “I will.”

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin x OC #Hobbit Fic #middle earth pixie

[fellowshipofthefics]

Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dwalin (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Dwalin (Tolkien)/Original Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Dwalin (Tolkien), Original Dwarf Character(s), Balin (Tolkien), Bifur (Tolkien), Bofur (Tolkien), Bombur (Tolkien), Fíli (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien), Ori (Tolkien), Nori (Tolkien), Dori (Tolkien), Bilbo Baggins (Tolkien), Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Dís (Tolkien), Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Óin (Tolkien), Glóin (Tolkien), Thorin Oakenshield Additional Tags: Fluff, Soulmates, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Dwalin Is A Softie, Background Relationships, Eventual Romance, dwarven courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Khuzdul, Angst Series: Part 1 of Dragny and Dwalin's Story Summary:

When Ones find each other it is a feeling unparalleled to any other, and Dwalin doesn't know what to do with his.

 **Warnings will be posted at the beginning of the chapter's**

#the hobbit #dwalin #dwalin x oc #hobbit fic #shadow prime