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The pause was as thick as the weather. While he waited Thorin lifted up the ring until it brushed against the corner of his mouth where Bilbo’s lips had touched it just last night. Did hobbits give their affections as freely as that, or were they something to be cherished? Now that they were safe again he had more time to think about it. Kisses were sacred, private things to dwarves, shared only between lovers and wedded couples. Did hobbits exchange them as easily as saying ‘good morning’? And why did that thought make him feel so put out? Thorin gave himself a shake to try to regain his senses but he wasn’t sure how much good it did. He had awoken the next morning to find that his nephews had wrapped themselves around the burglar like creeper vines. It had both pleased him to see them opening up to someone who wasn’t family and irritated him at the same time for wondering what it would be like to take their place.
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The rest of his hair was wet and wild as if he’d just recently washed it and that was the only thing that helped Bilbo rip his mesmerized gaze away from the delicate movements. Dwarves and their braids had always been a source of fascination to him. That such a thing could be considered effeminate by certain races such as men and hobbits and yet still represent a warrior’s pride and other such important meanings for dwarves intrigued Bilbo to no end. Some braids meant marriage and children while others stood for honor won in battle and each had their own special way of being twined. Thorin’s were probably for either royalty or battle-honor. Bilbo had never asked.
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When Bilbo finally came to a stop, standing at the edge of the camp, Thorin made his move. “Everything all right?” Thorin rumbled, as he circled closely behind the stationary hobbit. He didn’t miss the way his One shuddered.

“Everything’s fine,” Bilbo returned through clenched teeth.

”Then why are you acting so … different.” Thorin leaned a little closer, and Bilbo’s ear twitched before the hobbit shook himself visibly from whatever affect Thorin’s voice was having. He couldn’t help a small self-satisfied smirk.

"Whose to say that I am?”

“Several have said it already. You haven’t gone for your walk, and you can’t seem to sit still.”

“I’m standing still right now.”

“I’m not leaving without an answer.” Thorin leaned in closer, nearly brushing the hobbit’s ears with his lips.

With another shudder, Bilbo turned his ear away. He still didn’t reply at first, but, after a few moments, sucked in a deep breath and sighed it out. “We’re being followed.”

”What?” Thorin was instantly at attention, casting his gaze around the edges of their camp. There was a sparse copse of trees on one side that significantly hindered his range. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. They been following us all day. Trying to catch up, I’d wager.”

“Are you a gambling hobbit, Master Baggins?” Thorin continued to peer out into the darkness around them.

“Only when I know I’ll win.”

~~Excerpt of Chapter 15 of The Blind Burglar by Domestic Goddess on Ao3 to be updated on October 26th. Subscribe now!❤

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I was bored and downloaded a faceapp which had a feature which allowed an AI to cross photos of two persons and see what their children would look like and somewhere along the line of experimenting with photos in my gallery this happened

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”Well, your dwarves insist they cannot fit another back on those ponies and still have room to ride.” Adamanta walked back to them, a complaint on her lips. “But there are two more sacks, and you must take them! It will be very distressing to me if you don’t!”

”I’ll take ‘em!” A new voice came up behind them. “My pony’s still got room.” The hobbit smirked at their wide-eyed stairs.

”Dinodas?” Adamanta addressed the newcomer. “Are you going too?”


”No!” Bilbo denied over top of him. “You can’t go! You have … responsibilities! You’re head of the bounders!”

”Not anymore.”

”What?! But you were just promoted!”

”Which just made it easier to quit, really, if you think about it.”

”You can’t!”

”I’m afraid he already did,” Gerontius informed. “Approached me last night after dinner. Didn’t even hold the title for twelve hours. It’s a new record.”

”Wha- Bu- No!” Bilbo spluttered. “You can’t come! You’ve never come before! Why are you doing this?! What are you thinking?! I can’t protect you!”

”Uh, yeah, about that,” Dino hummed. “Ya see, I’m coming along to protect you. You’ve practically been living in that arm chair of yours and are not prepared for a life on the road. And I know you’re a seer, but ya are a bit on the wee side.” He pinched his fingers in front of his face to emphasize his point.

”Excuse me! I have done perfectly well every– well, most– okay, many other times! I do not need to be hobbit-sat, and my size has nothing to do with anything! I will have you know I have faced orcs, goblins, spiders, dragons, and a bloody balrog! I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much!” Bilbo blustered harmlessly.

~~Excerpt of Chapter 12 of Once Again by Domestic Goddess on Ao3 to be updated on October 26th. Subscribe now!❤

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Studying the room, Bilbo tried to devise a strategy. Just when he was about to give up and make a run for it, a heard he familiar voice. Dori marched into the kitchen, barking orders as he directed a serving tray to be loaded. Yes! Now Bilbo just had to get his attention. Dori certainly wouldn’t try to eat him. Maybe the sheep would even help him get back to the king’s rooms. “Hey,” he whispered, but went unnoticed. There was too much noise and activity.

Bilbo sighed. Was he going to have to run out after all? Fortunately, Dori unwittingly supplied the solution and came to stand by the cupboards to get out of the way.

“Pssst. Hey!” Bilbo tried again. The fussy sheep definitely heard him this time and glanced around curiously. “Behind you.”

With that, Dori spun around and nearly jumped out of his skin. “Master Bilbo?” He gaped. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, got lost?”

“Oh, Mahal. The king’s going to bloody kill me when he finds out you left his rooms! How did you get out?” Dori’s eyes shifting about as he tried to act normal.

“You left the door unlocked?”

“I did not. I most certainly remember locking it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I … ” Dori rubbed his fluffy white beard. “I think so?”

“Well, what can I say?” Bilbo shrugged, not above taking advantage of the servant’s doubt. “Here I am. What time is it anyway? Does the king know I’m missing?”

“Of course not! It’s barely lunch! I was just getting ready to bring your meal.”

“Really? I felt longer than that. Hey! That means if you can get me back to the king’s rooms no one has to know about this. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

~~Excerpt of Chapter 5 of Bride of the Demon King by Domestic Goddess on Ao3 to be updated on October 26th. Subscribe now!❤

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ship: bagginshield

rating: explicit

words: 4,658

summary: Bilbo desperately tries to figure out a way to cheer Thorin up when he begins to suffer from the Dragon Sickness, his entire personality changing in the thick of the illness. In a last minute thought, he wonders if perhaps a massage would do the trick. He is rather skilled with his hands, after all…


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Hey everyone! Since it’s october, I thought I’d pick a fic with spoo~ky overtones. Though I have a couple to choose from, I just had to go with “Golden Fog” by teaDragon.

Another fic that I’ve read multiple times, this one is a wonderfully crafted holloween story set in a modern middle-earth. The story is very well done and original. Packed with plenty of mystery, monsters, suspence and adorkable flirting. So, if you’re open to modern aus and looking for a fun fic appropriate for the season, you should definitely check this one out. It’s well worth the read.😉🥰🎃

Golden Fog (83649 words) by teaDragon
Chapters: 14/14
Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins, Dís, Fíli, Kíli, Other Hobbits and Dwarves
Additional Tags: Horror, Supernatural Elements, Past Character Death, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, set in the shire, Hurt/Comfort, reference to minor character death, references to violence and tourture, Rituals, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst, Awkward Flirting

When Thorin grudgingly decided to visit his sister and her family in the Shire, he expected to find a slow, sleepy town out in the country.

He had not expected that the seemingly peaceful Shire covered a dark secret. And he had certainly not expected to develop feelings for a small, curly-haired man. Nor for the same man to somehow be deeply connected to a series of strange and frightening disappearances.

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Bard’s scowl was decidedly pronounced now, his face twisted in begrudging acceptance of what he’d been walked into. “If things do come to a head as you suggest, if there is an instance where my children are in mortal peril,” here, his gaze snapped sharply upwards, as if he was daring the King Under the Mountain and his Consort to disagree, as if he himself wasn’t sure what he’d do if it came down to it, “I will call upon Erebor for aid, regardless of whether you will grant it to me or not. My dignity and my entreaties matter nothing to me.”

“Us,” Oakenshield said.

Bard blinked. “Pardon me?”

Us, not me,” Oakenshield told him, grinning crookedly as he curved a ring on his index finger over and over, the dark stone set into it gleaming dully as it hit the light. His teeth shone wickedly. “An alliance is no place big enough for the pride of a king.”

Bilbo’s face cracked into a smile. Thranduil knew, Bard had given the right answer.

Bard shrugged, but the relief was palpable on his face. He bowed shallowly to both of them, a mock parody of the gesture, and it seemed to loosen some of the tension from Oakenshield’s shoulders. Bilbo was already smiling a little fondly. “No. No, it isn’t. But perhaps, our apologies will be given room enough to have a presence of their own.”

“Your apology,” Thranduil said, softly, firmly, affirmatively. “Not mine.”

Bard’s expression crushed in on itself. “Thranduil,” he said quietly, pleading, “please.”

“I appreciate your show of solidarity, Bard, I really do,” Thranduil told him, gathering the sleeves of his robes and delicately folding them in his lap. Oakenshield’s expression was caught somewhere between disappointment and expectation; Bilbo just looked terrified, his hand curved like a manacle over Oakenshield’s wrist. “But I ask this of you: the next time you head out to forge an alliance, be careful not to speak on behalf of another king. They will not be as forgiving as I am.”

“This could be a new age,” Bard said. “A new beginning.”

“And I would welcome it with open arms,” Thranduil answered solemnly, feeling the start of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Bard’s demeanour, his earnest sincerity in making sure the Greenwood wasn’t left behind in the chariot of their future— it was ridiculously endearing; enchanting, even. “But when there exists a history so stained with malcontent and hatred, it becomes rather difficult to wipe the slate clean and start afresh.”

“It’s stained with the blood of my people, Thranduil.” Oakenshield smiled at him, cutting-edged, blade-swift. “So are your hands.”

[We’re already a good 57,000 words in! Drop by and give it a read for that good ol’ emotional recovery and resolution of interpersonal conflict! I suck at writing about politics, so emotional turmoil it is! Bilbo and Thorin act as adults and talk their issues out! Bilbo swears like a sailor! Bard and Thranduil end up flirting without even knowing it! Thorin and Thranduil’s conversation doesn’t quite go in the direction everyone expected it to! Yay!]

THE ART OF NOT KNOWING [Chapter V: Durin blue, Elven silver.]

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