#Pre-quest for Erebor

[pollyna]

au in which Thror gives Thorin in marriage to Dwalin, of all the people, and they spent the next seventy-five years living the most scandalous marriage ever, even if most of it is just rumours. They call each other husband when the title is the least appropriate and Dwalin makes very not-so-explicit jocks about what he's going to do to the future king once they're alone, around every important person they meet and once. Once they, both of them, almost proposed a threesome to Thranduil and Dìs choked on her wine. The best part, as Thorin always says to his mother, is that they scandalise the court and then spent entire hours laughing about what they did, sharing a bed so big they could have slept in all the positions they wanted and still have all the space to be comfortable.

The fall of Erebor changes everything and they change with it. They still call each other husband whenever they can but now it's more serious and more composed, neither of them laughs as much as they did before and, along the road, they both lose more friends and family than they're comfortable speaking about. They still share a room and a bed but most of the time are made of their capes and the tiny hope to find a way to reclaim their home. Khazad-dûm signs another step, even bigger than before, and now Thorin is king, without all his people and his mountain. That day, in a matter of hours, he lost his king, his father, his brother and his brother-in-law and Dwalin was a close call, in the middle of them.

(Balin is going to tell Bilbo, decades later, that that was the moment he knew he could have followed Thorin to hell and back because he was deserving of his loyalty just like a true king can be. What Thorin remembers of that day, those days, it's the fear, the blood, so much blood, Dwalin's body in the middle of the others and no one them getting up, none of them answering his desperate calls.)

Ered Luin becomes their home, even if it takes other blood, other tears and so much hard work to even arrive at the end of the day that Thorin finds it difficult to believe that that was the best place to start again. Every winter is longer than the one before, work is a little harder to find and Men tend to pay them less and less. On top of that, every Lord of the Mountain has to say his, her or their bit about this or that matter leaving Thorin with no time at all for his family or sleeping. Most of the nights, when he finally comes home, Dwalin is already sleeping, sometimes cuddling Fìli or Kìli or both of them, and Thorin can just lie on his back and try to sleep without making much fuss. Other nights the bed is cold because Dwalin is out for his job and his nephews are already sleeping and everything seems almost too quiet to scare him.

A decade passed, and then another, Dìs is back drawing jewels for rich people and the money is a little more but still just enough to let them breathe. Dwalin twirls his hair between his tattooed finger, you're getting white husband, and Thorin can't do anything if not laughing, if you think me going white is a reason enough to ask for divorce you're sorely mistaken and I should have done that when you shaved your head.

(They already talk about it, the two of them, if the time should come and one, or both, should find his One Thorin would concede an annulment of the marriage. Dwalin had laughed because aye but stop trying to get read of me, oh husband of mine. It happens, in the end, after almost a century of marriage. Dwalin saves Ori, even if he still doesn't know his name, from a falling rock and Ori invites him for tea, as thank you, and so it starts. It takes Dwalin six months to ask for the divorce, and Thorin is hugging him so hard against his chest because I'm so happy for you my dear, but they never stops calling each other husband. When asked Ori answers he doesn't have a problem with it because Dwalin calls him in so many other sweet ways.)

Now they're both laughing, their forehead touching and, for a couple of moments, their back in the hall of Erebor, so young and without a single concern, scandalising people and training at dawn and cuddling even in the middle of summer when both of them were already all muscles and lost altogether their delicate complexion while getting tattoos and piercings in memories of great deeds they did. Scandalising everyone and fighting with the strength of an army against any enemy of their home, begin called the Prince and his Husband by the rest of the soldiers and living up to the next day, the next battle, to hold each other's hand while Oìn closes another future scar.

It ends, or maybe it just begins again, when Thorin comes to Bag End. He's walking non-stop for two days and his feet hurts so bad he could probably just sit on the grass and wait for someone to rescue him but, after only three tries, he comes to his designated destination. He can hear all the voices coming from inside the house, he can hear his nephews and all the merry band he and Bailn created in the last two years but, most of all, he can hear Dwalin laughing and his heart feels a little lighter now and his feet hurt a little less. He almost doesn't notice the hobbit when he finally can enter the house, too worried to run and not to make a bad impression in front of his ex-husband. He doesn't remember the last time he had time for a decent bath and his hair are all over the place and Thorin knows he's being dumb because it's Dwalin he's thinking about and they saw each other in the worst of the situations, they were married for so long!, but he still giddy and his emotions are all over the place, but he can do it, can't he? They saw each other a little shy over two and half years before, at the beginning of the search for the people of the quest and he misses him. But Dwalin smiles at him, just a couple of tattoos he doesn't recognise and their foreheads touch and everything is out of phase for a little while. Dwalin who still calls him husband and still has on his braid even when he wears Ori's too, Dwalin who, after the quest, will address as Consort and he will laugh back because not any more lads, but still he will do and say all the right things to make him go red in the face in front of his allies and his One, without being crass (not that much at least).

(That same night, or maybe during one of them, Nori will explain to Bilbo that they used to be married, because of his grandfather, and about how people tried to avoid them together because one could never know what they were going to say and how, after all, Ori come in the scene because of falling rocks and Thorin had considered one of the few divorces of their history. Bilbo will sit and listen, trying to grasp how it would feel to have someone like that to share an entire life or at least a good part of it.) (He's going to find out, a little over a year and a half later when Thorin will finally leave his bed in the tent and start addressing all the problems and the work Erebor needs to be livable again. He will discover how Dwalin must have felt having Thorin and Ori as part of his life when, one afternoon, Thorin is going to invite him over for tea and gift him with the first of the courtship braids, smiling so softly to almost breaking Bilbo's heart. He will discover it and it's going to be another adventure altogether. He will go to Dwalin, at some point or another, to ask for advice for the better gift for his One, even if hobbits don't have a One, and Dwalin will laugh and teach him own to work in the forge, even if the results won't be promising, at least at the beginning.)

#thorin oakenshild #dwalin #platonic wedding #platonic dworin #<- one of my favs #thror does what a mad king does #arranged marriage #did i give them almost a century of platonic marriage? bet your ass i did #dwarrows are demiaro and demisexual #fìli & kìli #ori #the company #dìs #dwalin x ori #canonical character death #pre quest #erebor #ered luin #and i made an entire race on the aroace spectrum too #bilbo baggins #implied future thilbo #thorin x bilbo #otp: come knocking at my door (i'm home i'm home) #bagginshield #ironquill #three weeks of falling asleep on this but apparently i finally put it on writing lol #what a prompt #the hobbit #twt (aka timeline what timeline)

[lightcreators]

look at me meme / @tiimecrash​

Condensed  lifetime  had  been  experienced  inside  one  second  ;  that  cannot  be  measured  inside  actual  period  he  passed,  for  be  as  merely  minutes  passed  since  his  return.  During  decades,  inside  that  gentle  sensation  of  that  upcomping  belonging  someday  to  the  stars,  he  had  been  dreaming  on  that  moment  when  his  humble  Hobbit  self  would  cross  path  of  a  Time  Lord  ….  an  certain  gear  that  will  be  set  in  motion,  that  cannot  be  stopped  anymore,  who  wasn’t  anymore  accessible  from  his  distance,  who  cannot  been  cancelled  anymore.  Someday,  his  goodbye  with  the  Doctor  will  be  looking  as  a  far  away  foreshadowing  move  of  another  reunion  from  someone  else  …  of  that  inevitable  sentiment  following  circumstances  of  their  own  world  …  of  that  responsability  touch  of  realization  towards  circumstances.  Even  if  his  disappareance  lasted  from  their  perspective  a  couple  of  minutes,  even  since  he  leaved  behind  that  blue  box  full  of  remembrances  elements,  he  had  been  expecting  Gandalf  welcoming  with  warm  riddles  or  offering  an  serious  expression  over  his  responsabilities.  Nevertheless,  even  a  magican  —  especially  a  magician  —  can  understood  weight  inside  his  fragile  shoulders  when  he  perceived  the  future  of  an  woman  who  had  fallen  from  the  stars.  Nevertheless,  especially  a  wizard  could  understand  complexity  of  affections  when  a  vow  of  silence  tourmented  him  —  no  one  could  know  what  happened  inside  that  box  of  memories.  No  one  could  know  density  of  knoweldge  he  received  from  that  witch  from  another  universe,  who  barely  crossed  around  his  universe  without  touch  it.  No  one  could  know  couple  of  knoweldge  that  cannot  be  exposed,  when  certain  events  were  to  be  foreshadowed.  Inside  these  travels,  nothing  about  himself  had  been  exposed.  Featherine  never  exposed  something  over  the  future  to  came  —  but  he  had  been  the  one  facing,  but  he  had  been  the  one  realization,  all  these  circumstances,  that  meeting  itself,  all  of  these  moments  had  been  experienced  before  …  and  the  other  end  cannot  know  about  it.  Before  facing,  inside  an  place  who  wasn’t  inside  familiarty  of  his  memories,  another  face  of  an  dear  loved  one  —  who  changed,  who  learn  to  live  a  portion  of  his  life  without  him,  where  consciousness  of  their  universe  difference  touched  him  frontally.  Where  he  understood,  afterwards  that  strange  meeting  between  dimensions,  without  the  eyes  of  a  witch  on  them,  where  they  was  a  chance  to  be  together  again,  he  would  have  to  carry  the  burden.  The  lady  from  the  stars  he  knew  inside  his  current  universe  cannot  know  she  will  one  day  travelling  once  more  inside  the  universes  and  live  others  experiences  …  The  lady  of  the  stars  sublimating  his  daily  life  would  one  day  leaving  him  for  others  borders.  It  was  a  future  he  perceived,  a  certain  future.

Regrets  about  maybe  not  be  an  caring  presence  over  Featherine  Augustus  Aurora  would  always  tourmenting  him  somewhere  inside  his  mind.  Worries  about  his  low  influence  inside  her  actions  and  how  much  he  was  supposed  to  influence  others  with  her  legacy  will  probably  never  stop  tourmenting  him.  Created  moves  cannot  be  cancelled.  There  will  be  no  way  for  wish  for  another  chance  to  touch  another  possibility  once  another  decision  had  been  made  …  Gandalf  trusted  him,  entrusted  him  with  carefulness  they  had  been  realizing  circumstances.  He  foolishly  thought  it  will    be  easy.  Besides,  as  much  it  displeased  him,  he  had  to  preparing  Featherine’s  legacy  to  the  Game  Master  that  will  show  up  inside  their  universe.  He  was  the  supporter  of  the  Game  Master  to  come,  nevertheless,  sensed  his  interferences  would  be  limited  directly.  Even  inside  an  more  personal  manner,  he  would  have  to  be  an  protective  presence  towards  the  sunshine  Time  Lady  who  illuminated  his  life.  He  refused  to  hide  that  portion  of  that  life  from  her.  He  refused  to  never  spoke  of  that  infinity  of  existence  experienced  in  a  few  seconds.  However,  even  since  he  appreciated  calmness  of  his  countryside  without  changing  his  old  habits,  he  did  great  take  care  to  push  behind  and  sealing  drawings  and  written  remembrances  concerning  her  future  self.  It  would  be  the  only  one  sealed  lock  he  would  have  to  keep  preciously  for  himself.  Meantime,  he  wanted  assuring  himself  she  will  be  fine  —  that  she  will  still  appreciating  that  peaceful  life  as  always,  sometimes  welcomed  by  an  magician  filled  of  mysteries,  that  gravity  and  maturity  of  his  expression  won’t  be  taken  wrongly.  On  his  side,  he  didn’t  wanted  to  forget  these  stories  he  won’t  be  able  to  tell.  These  tales  in  which  he  had  been  the  reader,  in  which  he  would  to  becoming  differently  the  author,  had  to  bring  an  understandable  meaning.

It  was  indeed  possible,  a  long  time  ago,  before  that  moment  was  sent  in  motion,  his  existence  had  been  unconcerned  of  potential  responsabilities  inside  his  shoulders.  He  observed  his  colleagues  amusingly  from  an  far  away  gaze,  fullfilled  of  affections,  where  there  was  an  appreciation  of  details  he  never  cared  to  looking  too  much.  He  was  sensible  to  how  the  lady  coming  from  the  stars  reacted  every  day.  Often,  he  was  thoughtful.  Often,  he  was  watching  over  that  sky,  wandering  about  that  witch  could  do  between  dimensions  …  On  that  day  when  he  left  open  the  windows  and  was  arranging  various  notebooks  and  sketchbooks,  curiousity  of  Sola  was  pleasant  to  perceiving.  He  didn’t  know  how  to  explain  it.  He  didn’t  know  how  he  could  even  exposing  an  fragment  of  the  truth.  Featherine  hadn’t  been  here,  even  if  she  had  been  coming  accidentally,  for  return  her  inside  her  universe.  Himself  didn’t  know  if  there  was  an  TARDIS  somewhere  sleeping  inside  his  universe  …  Himself  didn’t  know  how  circumstances  would  bring  evolution  inside  their  story  …  He  knew  the  beginning.  He  knew  the  end.  He  hoped  for  an  nice  epilogue.  As  far  he  remember,  he  never  draw  that  blue  box  often  —  magnificient  landscapes  of  locations  he  remembered  faintly  to  have  touched  inside  another  timeline  desired  to  been  exposed  …  besides  he  mostly  visited  planets  who  wasn’t  that  much  different  of  his  world.  Peaceful  moments  associated  to  fairy  magic  for  an  Hobbit  :  an  illusion  of  appearances  of  something  sinister  who  was  hanging,  an  illusion  of  calmness  while  an  Time  Lord  reached  another  perspective  …  He  sensed  his  own  thoughtfulness,  that  silent  ache  inside  his  heart.    ❝  I  don’t  know  how  long  I’ve  been  gone.  Since  theoretically,  I  never  left.  It  was  just  a  few  minutes.  I  could  never  talk  about  everything  I  saw,  everything  I’ve  written,  everything  I’ve  drawn,  everything  I’ve  experienced  in  these  memories  …  That  universe  will  not  understand.  My  universe  will  not  understand.  However,  I  don’t  want  to  hide  it  from  you.    ❞  He  dared  recognized  silency  their  universe  difference  that  would  be  always  standing,  when  contact  of  their  closeness  inside  that  break  of  his  brightness  created  a  desire  to  touch  her  hair.    ❝  The  stars  that  I  have  touched  will  only  be  memories  that  will  one  day  be  in  danger  of  being  extinguished,  which,  like  a  dream,  appeared  during  a  moment  of  a  night  —  cruel  distance  of  these  distant  stars  …  to  which  I  must  take  care  to  one  that  comes  from  them.    ❞

#tiimecrash #ic :: bilbo baggins #frodo third timeline tag #pre quest of erebor tag #bilbo and sola tbt. #long post / #*weeping in the background* #( answered. )

[middleearthpixie]

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

Like it? Love it? Reblog it! Comments are also welcomed!

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Richard Armitage #Thorin x reader #Thorin x you #nonny asks #pixie answers

[fizzyxcustard]

Requested by @lathalea with the prompt “Because I care for you more than you know.” 

Pre-Quest of Erebor, when Thorin was still a young Prince. 

I hope you don’t mind this being more of a drabble. I also won't tag anyone as this is short.

You were drained, your back ached, and all you could think of was a warm bath and your bed. Being a maid in the kingdom of Erebor meant that you were constantly on your feet; making beds, cleaning furniture, taking clothing to the wash rooms. And that was only the royal wing. In particular you catered to Prince Thorin’s needs. 

You stumbled back into your bed chamber, your whole body screaming in fatigue. But upon entering, you noticed that your bed had been made. Normally your sheets would have been tossed aside and left that way until you returned. There was a candle burning on the small table at the end of your bed and you could make out a figure, their outline quite bold in the murky room. 

“Hello?” you said, stepping toward the figure. 

“Dinner will not be too long. A bath is being drawn for you as we speak.” It was the Prince’s voice. That deep voice always sent shivers of arousal through your very core. 

“Have you done this, my Prince?” you asked. 

Thorin chuckled in response. “Please go and relax in the bath and I will go and check that dinner is on its way.” 

“Why have you done all this for me?” you asked, a lump rising in your throat. You stepped closer to the table, now being able to see his handsome features highlighted by the flickering candle. 

“Because I care for you more than you know.” 

#Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin #The hobbit #Thorin x You #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Request #Richard Armitage

[lordoftherazzles]

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

bagginshield | pre-quest/blacksmith au | explicit

Thorin labors as a blacksmith within the world of men to support his family and the other displaced dwarves of Erebor. Change comes to his monotonous routine when the smithy he works in unexpectedly comes under a hobbit’s management.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Staring at the intricate metals that were now twisted together, and the various decorations that had been melded to it, resembling a headpiece, Thorin exhaled deeply. "How things have changed..." he murmured to himself, continuing to examine his good work and wonder how a blade held as much beauty as this. No sharp edges to cut and kill, only curves and decorations to accentuate the head it would soon rest upon in honor.

“I knew I'd find you here,” a voice spoke up, breaking through Thorin's thoughts and the crackling of the forge.

“I think there's something to be said here about taking a dwarf out of a forge, but never being able to take his love for the forge away from him,” Thorin drawled with a roll of his eyes. “It brings me peace, and fond memories of...” he trailed.

And that's a wrap!!

Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this long ride from the beginning, who joined halfway, and who are just reading it for the first time now. Can you believe this was my FIRST posted fic? Two and a half(ish) years, 100k+ words, and now it's over. It feels so bittersweet, but also amazing.

I could spend many more years on this fic, and while I'm shelving this universe for now, there's no telling when I may pull it back out again, should there be a need/desire!

Onto the next project!

#bagginshield #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #thorin x bilbo #bilbo x thorin #bagginshield fic #hobbit fic #razzywrites #fic: may your forge burn bright

[booksbabes]

I need some opinions on a Thorin x ofc fin im writing

I want to attempt to get the whole thing written before I post it. I feel like I loose interest if I post as I go.

It’s set pre quest to Erebor. Everyone is about 7 years younger than the quest age. Should Thorin and OC fall in love in this fic before quest? Should the quest even happen? I like to read hobbit fics other than the whole quest itself it tends to get predictable. And I feel there are a lot of post-quest. Everyone lives. But not many pre-quest. (Everyone will live bc I cannot take unhappy endings) let me know what you think or any ideas!

#thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin oakenshield smut #thorin x reader #thorin fic #thorin fanfic #thorin imagine #thorin x oc

[rayshippouuchiha]

For the Pre-Quest Bagginshield asked:

Bridenapping by Mawgon

Proud king in exile Thorin, working as a blacksmith, refuses fem! Bilbo's offer of kindness so she decides to bridenap him so he can get the help he needs.

Last Homely Hole by Classical Torture

Thorin takes a tumble and young Bilbo brings him home. Just in time for the Fell Winter.

Your Heart is Cold but We Will Warm You by ApprenticeofDoyle

Lost dwarflings Kili and Fili are taken home by Bilbo as he avoids mercenaries and the dangers on the road.

Colors or How Bilbo Collects the Company Before the Quest to Retake Erebor by Cloud_Nine

Bilbo can see fated connections and follows them. Found Family

Some Kind We Never Forget by throsartae

A/B/O fic. Thorin and Bilbo had met once before. When they meet again for the Quest, Bilbo's a single father of 4. Thorin may or may not be responsible.

Bonus Post-Quest fic

Let the Waking Morning Find by sunryder

After Frodo and Bilbo journeys West, Bilbo keeps getting sicker. When it turns out the remnants of the One Ring is attached to Bilbo, he has to fill the hole in his heart and find the dwarf that made it. But where is Thorin Oakenshield? He is most definitely not in his afterlife.

!!!!!

#RayRambles #bagginshield #Hobbit #Lotr #fic rec

[lathalea]

Thorin Oakenshield Masterlist

Here is the masterlist of my Thorin Oakenshield stories. Enjoy!

📜 ONE-SHOTS:

✨ The Lotus Flower and the Summer Wind (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ Forest Gold (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ The Winner Takes It All (Thorin x Reader, rated E) ✨ Boop! (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Imbolc (Thorin x OC, rated: T, gothic fairy tale) ✨ Blacksmith Needed (Thorin x OC, rated: M) ✨ Far Under the Misty Waters Cold (Thorin x Reader, rated: T) ✨ To Home Afar (Thorin & Dis, my TRSB21 entry, rated: G) ✨ Strong (Thorin x Reader, hurt/comfort fic) ✨ A Good Night's Kiss (Thorin x Reader, rated: M) ✨ The Gift (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Mistletoe (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ How Do You Shop for a King? (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Thistle. A Midsummer Night's Dream (who is the woman in prince Thorin's dream?, rated G) ✨ The Tinderbox (Thorin x OFC, rated: G) ✨ The Crossover (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ The Best Day of My Life (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Never (Thorin angst, rated: G) ✨ Dream Come True (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Kind of Magic (Thorin x gn!Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Pint Too Far (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Wild Strawberries (Thorin x OC, rated: E) ✨ The Arrival (Thorin x OC/Reader, rated: G) ✨ The Shrieking Monster (Thorin&Dis&Fili&Kili family fluff, rated: G)

📜 LONGFICS:

✨ The Weeping Willow (Thorin x Reader, angst, dark fairy tale, rated T, complete): [1] [2]

✨ All Is Fair in Love and Trade (Thorin x Reader, rated E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [Chapter 1 scene from Thorin's POV]

✨ Entangled (Thorin x OC, rated: G): [1] [2] [3] ✨ Heart of Stone (Thorin x Reader, The Hobbit Pirate AU, an interactive story, rated M):  [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] (on hiatus) ✨ Third Time's the Charm (Thorin x Reader, rated T, complete): [1] [2] [3] ✨ Sun and Stone (Thorin x Reader, rated G, complete) [1] [2] ✨ Springtime at the Lonely Mountain (pre-Smaug AU, read the whole fic on AO3, rated E) ✨ How to Kiss a Fairy (collab with @avaria-revallier , Quest of Erebor with a twist, rated G, complete): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 ✨ Blame It on Cider (Thorin x fem!Dwarf OC Yrsa, rated E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] ... 💎 Soulmates (Modern AU take on Thorin and Yrsa's relationship)

✨ If on a Winter's Night (Thorin x Reader, Modern AU): [1] [2] [] [] ✨ The White Raven (Thorin x OC, rated: T/E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] []

➡️Other Masterlists

Lathalea's Main Masterlist

Writer's Month 2021 Masterlist

Tarot Imagine Ask Game 2021 Masterlist

The Hobbit Advent Calendar 2021 Masterlist

Armitage Summer Splash 2022 Masterlist

You can read all of my works on AO3 (Lathalea).

If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, let me know! Do you like my writing? Would you like to read more? Feel free to show your support by having a Ko-fi with me! Thank you 💙

#thorin oakenshield #fanfiction #lathalea #the hobbit #thorin x reader #richard armitage #thorin #tolkien #lotr #thorin fic #king under the mountain #fanfic #thorin x oc #thorin imagine #fantasy #fan fiction #the hobbit imagine

[crossingbaranduin]

The biggest roadblock for me when writing Bagginshield fics is that I don’t view either of them as particularly good at being vulnerable, but in very different ways, so getting to any point with emotional intimacy takes a hell of a lot of setup, haha! Maybe I’ll be able to refine that over the next few fics I write.

(If you’d like my general interpretations:)

Bilbo: fairly solitary pre-quest and most relations are built on politeness and societal expectations, so being open and effectively gaining one huge family is a challenge.

Thorin: has a fuckton of feelings deep down but expressing them is a whole different story. (understandably) has a mountain of repression and general “put leading/being king over emotions” issues bigger than erebor itself.

#the hobbit #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #character interpretation #headcanons

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Hobbit Gen Fics and Collections

MULTI-CHAPTER WORKS

Finding Our Paths

AO3 Link

Completed: 12/31/23

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Characters: Bilbo, Kili

Summary: Thorin and Fili are taking a trip to the Iron Hills and leave Bilbo and Kili in charge. It should be relatively routine, but in the span of a day they have a war on their hands and the mountain falling down around them. Is it time to call for Thorin yet?

Home

AO3 Link

Completed: 9/5/21

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Characters: Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dis

Summary: Being an uncle doesn't come instinctual to Thorin. He loves his nephews with all his heart, but he doesn't quite understand them. However, when Dís needs a break with the death of her husband so fresh, she leaves to travel as a blacksmith and Thorin is left to mind the colony, Fíli, and Kíli. If they all manage to survive to the end of the five months, Thorin will consider it a success.

FOLLOWER EVENTS

All About Bilbo from the POV of...

Bilbo- Bilbo describes himself as he convinces Thorin that he would make an effective scout.

Lobelia- Bilbo is described by a family member who learns from a young age that Baggins are respectable, and Bilbo is not.

Bard- Bilbo is described by a coworker as Bard laments on how necessary Bilbo is for the alliance.

Smaug- Bilbo is described by an enemy during the scenes with Smaug from DOS.

Elrond- Bilbo is described by a teacher when Bilbo needs someone to help him cope with his grief. (Canon compliant)

Oin- Bilbo is described by a healer who is convinced that hobbits are healed by mushrooms.

Gandalf- Bilbo is described by a "recruiting manager" who finds courage when he searches through the Tooks for a worthy burglar.

Frodo- Bilbo is described by a child who is dealing with his own grief and finds a kindred spirit in Bilbo.

Myrtle- Bilbo is described by a pet who wondered after Bilbo once they were separated by wargs.

OTHER GAMES/CHALLENGES

Modern May

Secret Royal (Modern Middle Earth) + Interpreter + “I never meant to come between the two of you.” + Fili & Kili & Bilbo Friendship

Trick or Treat

Brothers Treat- Boromir takes Faramir out for drinks and congratulates him on his promotion.

Elves and Children Treat- Elrond doesn't quite know what to make of baby Thrain.

Unlikely Friendship Treat- Child Thorin loves when Legolas visits the mountain...he loves to shoot him with his imaginary arrows.

Sword Lessons Treat- Boromir is convinced by Merry and Pippin to give them sword lessons.

Shadow Puppets Treat- Bofur and Bilbo explore Erebor and make shadow puppets of some of the other Company members.

RANDOM DRABBLES

As Brothers Do- Birthday present for @guardianofrivendell where Vili is still alive to join the quest of Erebor.

Birthday Surprise- Birthday present for @i-did-not-mean-to where Ori has come to dread his birthday, and Bilbo comes up with an idea to help him get back at Nori.

Tangled AU: Smaug Raising Thorin- Birthday present for @dimdiamond where we see Thorin's life with Smaug pre-storyline.

Thorin and Thranduil's "Somewhat" Friendship- What if, instead of turning his army around, Thranduil had finally decided to help the Dwarves of Erebor that day?

#sunny's fics #my masterlist #the hobbit

[enby-blorbo]

Hey hey! My name's Emy, 25 NB, ey/em/any pronouns, in desparate need of more Tolkien content with a partner that is 21+, writing charas that are also 21+. On my hands and knees begging 🙏 I have two specific ships in mind, one MxM and the other MxF, but I am absolutely okay with non-romance plots as well as I think they would be a lot of fun!

Here are the characters I play:

Tar-Miriel (Silmarillion), AKA Witch-King of Angmar (LOTR). - Very AU/Headcanon based, but Witchking!Miriel has my heart

Thorin Oakenshield (The Hobbit)

Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit)

Here are the ships I'm looking for. Bolded has current interest:

Tar-Miriel/Elendil - very much friends to lovers to enemies vibes here. Also good with unrequited/onesided feels on Miriel's part as that could be v juicy to play out, or this can be played platonically too.

Tar-Miriel/OFC - would love some WLW drama.

Thorin/Bilbo - It's a classic, but my love for the ship has been reignited after 10ish years, would love to play it again.

Thorin/OMC - down for MLM drama.

Non-romance plots:

Thorin - Anything with the dwarves pre-Quest for Erebor, especially during The War of the Dwarves and Orcs, or the building of Ered Luin. Imo that is an extremely interesting period of time that is hardly ever covered and I am endlessly thirsty for it needless to say.

Tar-Miriel - Evil plottages with the Witch-King are yes. Or, better yet, could play out a political intrigue setting pre-fall of Numenor. Tbh it'd be quite fun.

Bilbo - Someone come bother this kooky old man post-Quest for Erebor I feel like he'd just be an absolute riot to be around. Frodo, Sam, Merry & Pippin are a plus here. That & threads with members of the Company, like Balin or Ori, or even his old pal Elrond, would be fun as well!

Alternate Universes

If so desired, I am absolutely A-OK with plotting out an AU verse, feel free to discuss with me via DMs.

If interested, add me on discord @ thewhisperingwood !

#lotr rp #hobbit rp #discord rp #bagginshield #mirendil

[lightcreators]

@tiimecrash​ continue from here

The lady looked toward the wizard and tilted her head. She knew of him and of his kind, having dealt with a certain brown wizard herself. Sola, listened as always ( as she fancied herself as a listener ) to what the wizard called Gandalf spoke of. A watcher and protector that did not want thanks? A bit odd, but humble in her opinion. “Well, I do thank you for your help, regardless if you accept my thanks or not.” a kind smile pressed on her lips as she carefully examined the wizard. Such a fascinating being! She had meet many races and not many caught her by surprise much like those wizards. Sole herself wasn’t quite sure what she was to begin with. She was found one day many years ago in the forest near Gondor and that was it. She had some visions here and there and did not recall much prior to being found. Her name even felt out of place here. Something she couldn’t explain. She knew the name was with her since she arrived as well.

“Do you know where I come from?” she simply asked. She once asked the brown wizard known as Radagast the same question and he just said “far away” and nothing more than that. It was as if he knew and refused to tell her or didn’t know and was making something up. Either way it was very confusing to her. She recalled very little up until being found in the forest by the brown wizard. “Radagast just tells me, I’m from far away.” the frustration in not remembering much of anything prior to waking up in the forest with that odd wizard standing over her, got the best of Sola sometimes.

Her  arrival  had  been  an  surprise  along  his  various  wandering  inside  these  lands.  A  wizard  such  an  himself  was  an  visitor  among  all  species,  flattered  to  discovering  all  perspective  they  offered,  flattered  over  understanding  every  problems  able  to  show  up  between  them  —  diplomat  enough  for  avoid  further  troubles,  but  cannot  interfence  too  much  inside  Men  concerns,  cannot  undone  disasters  of  darkness  and  influence  atmosphere  of  the  shadows  upon  them,  touching  them  in  various  tales  of  fragmented  moments  of  their  past  …  and  would  have  to  pay  attentive  ears  towards  the  warnings  of  the  Elves.  The  guardians  of  that  Age,  when  eventually,  they  would  return  themselves  close  to  home,  leave  behind  instants  and  magic  of  their  presence,  for  left  white  walls  and  myths  —  though  …  something  was  different.  Within  the  sensation  of  the  Third  Age,  when  the  periods  of  the  Sun  showed  difficulties  across  the  lands  of  Men,  when  desolation  welcomed  their  lands  into  indirect  clues,  the  Elves  sensed  their  time  wasn’t  yet  over.  The  Elves  sensed  their  lands  had  been  damaged  by  shadows  that  cannot  been  expressed,  even  Lady  Galabriel  warned  about  ‘an  danger  who  cannot  be  touched,  different  of  these  knowledgeable  sleeping  shadows’.  Something  who  was  different  of  the  possible  Sauron’s  return,  of  the  awakening  of  the  Mordor,  of  these  sudden  darkness  coming  back  to  them  ?  He  thoughtfully  pondered  what  the  Lady  was  intented  to  told,  when,  eventually,  his  own  senses  realized.  Their  world  …  had  passed  though  an  unexplained  phenomenon  that  had  spread  into  the  atmosphere.  A  distant  and  barely  inaudible  call  which  wished  the  preservation  of  their  world,  of  a  lasting  peace,  of  the  shadow  of  a  Chaos  which  risked  being  unleashed  on  their  world.  Not  an  reducing  word  as  a  gentle  'chaos’  as  previous  times  had  learned  tragically  such  word.  An  complete  entity  called  that  way,  as  a  fragmented  dark  divinity  wishing  to  settled  down  on  their  lands.  The  earth  of  the  Middle  Earth  didn’t  forget  how  brutally  she  had  been  destroyed  before.  The  Elves  didn’t  have  such  powers.  It  was  coming  from  an  …  higher  realm,  for  say  the  least.  As  a  wish.  As  someone  wished  another  chance,  another  opportunity  for  their  world  to  stand  …  Then,  it  was  associated  knoweldge  towards  the  realization.  Some  people  in  these  lands,  such  as  Galabriel,  such  as  Elrond,  inside  their  long  life,  realizing  circumstances  they  had  faced  had  been  previously  experienced,  than  some  struggles  had  been  a  repeat  of  long  time  ago  memories  …  It  wasn’t  supposed  to  even  happening.  Elrond  expressed  how  certain  of  his  companions  elves,  showed  themselves  with  an  strange  sentiment  of  fragmented  instants  inside  another  world,  of  'another  side’,  but  compared  to  the  lightness  they  expected  to  found,  they  recalled  emptiness  …  Nevertheless,  life  and  death  hadn’t  been  altered  into  these  world,  as  they  had  been  searching  over  reason  of  such  impressions.  Besides,  these  impressions  had  been  coming  into  strange  moments,  into  undelicate  recollections  as  it  acted  like  a  trigger  for  remembrance.

For  some  reason  ...  he  was  saddened  over  weighting  responsibility  for  the  person  who  asked  it.  He  was  saddened  the  concerned  heart  might  never  feel  peace  again,  and  maybe,  no  distanced  lands  would  even  appease  such  damaged  conscience  …  When,  dramatically,  he  had  an  strange  flattery  feeling  there  was  another  wizard  watching  among  them,  but  who  wasn’t  coming  from  here,  who  was  searching  to  communicate  with  them  but  cannot  physically  presenting  himself  …  when  somewhere,  somewhow,  into  strange  circumstances  they  found  themselves,  meaning  of  a  wizard  had  been  understood  …  Still,  it  won’t  be  a  wizard  of  these  lands.  It  won’t  be  gentleness  riddle  he  offered,  searching  always  to  protect  delicate  heart.  He  put  him  into  an  confirmed  position  of  guardian.  He  wasn’t  simply  there  for  looking  towards  the  potential  danger  of  Sauron,  of  the  awakening  of  the  darkness.  He  was  here  for  protecting  the  Middle  Earth  not  to  fall  towards  a  most  powerful  enemy.  In  time,  he  would  remember.  In  time,  he  would  have  to  choose  what  best  of  actions  would  be  needed,  what  choice  would  be  most  beneficial  in  long  term.  In  time,  he  would  have  to  acting  on  the  same  policy  of  the  one  controlling  the  various  pieces,  even  if  that  hand  would  be  invisible.  He  understood  it  in  the  wind.  He  understood  it  by  watching  over  the  stars.  Fragments  of  others  universes  touched  their,  and  the  danger  won’t  come  solely  from  their  lands.  The  Elves  would  settled  down  as  much  it  was  needy  for  heal  the  earth,  to  calm  down  various  forests  growning  into  a  strange  anguish,  calming  various  whispering  about  how  circumstances  were  fragile  …  The  person  who  wished  such  thing  decided  to  took  responsibility  for  all  their  world.  To  forever  been  attached  towards  responsibility  of  their  future  path.  Somewhere,  the  secret  didn’t  remained  trapped  inside  their  head,  and  had  been  flattered  around  the  atmosphere.  The  Mordor,  in  consequence,  able  to  allow  catch  up  such  signals,  musn’t  know  circumstances  were  repeated.  Musn’t  know  it  was  about  something  more  than  his  presence  who  caused  such  reaction.  Because,  deep  down,  earth  of  Mordor  seemed  to  remember  they  had  been  victorious  before,  they  could  be  victorious  again.

❝    I’m  only  an  old  man  doing  his  best  for  these  lands.  An  guardian  protecting  door  of  an  castle  doesn’t  need  thanks  for  working  as  he  should  be.  Even  if  no  prison  and  no  constraint  following  me  inside  my  various  wandering.  It’s  appreciated,  your  thanks.    ❞  He  eventually  expressed,  afterwards  be,  for  a  long  time,  lost  thoughtfully  inside  his  endless  ponderation  of  circumstances.  Oh,  he  remember  her  so  much  !  He  recalled  how  she  was  an  enjoying  child  inside  Radagast  forest,  so  often  confused  about  the  education  of  a  child,  so  often  lost  about  his  best  course  of  actions  he  requested  his  help  and  his  advices  !  There  was  no  surprise  coming  from  her  question.  Somewhat,  simply  by  listening  his  mind,  he  would  expressing  how  an  answer  she  was  inside  her  world.  An  fragment  of  another  universe,  it  was  what  she  was.  She  was  an  lost  star  who  end  up  there.  But  it  seemed  not  enough  accurate  over  her  presence.  She  was  something  wizards  cannot  explain,  and  he  had  been  refused,  to  some  reason,  to  expose  towards  Saruman  her  mysterious  presence.  Maybe  did  he  sensed  her,  maybe  not.  Maybe  did  he  also  sensed  what  he  also  sensed,  maybe  not.  The  stars  musn’t  be  spoken  in  front  of  Saruman.  Regardless  how  full  of  trust  he  was  over  his  friend,  he  knew  he  would  want  to  study  it  —  and  if  even  that  happens,  it  would  be  their  fall.  During  too  long,  stars  were  unanswered  mysteries.  But  apparently,  visitors  always  had  been  at  their  side.  Will  came  again.  Will  embracing  them  with  their  personal  support.  An  pleasant  smile  welcomed  his  expression,  as  he  slowly  confirmed.    ❝  Radagast  the  Brown  say  the  truth,  not  all  of  it.    ❞  He  admitted,  weigthing  then  his  newt  sentences.    ❝  You  didn’t  came  from  the  same  matter  of  our  stars.  You  are  a  fragment  of  somewhere  far  away,  even  ourselves,  old  magicians,  cannot  understand  and  cannot  found  the  accurate  term  for  you.  You’re  a  star,  living  along  them,  detached  of  the  initial  place  you  coming  from  —  but  the  stars  where  you  came  from  …  they  will  come  back  on  these  lands.  Only  for  a  short  while.  An  needy  experience.  An  legacy  who  will  mattered.  An  tale  that  can  hardly  be  told.  The  Elves  would  be  truthfully  confused  by  you,  and  you  are  confusing  to  me.  You  have  the  potential  to  be  as  wise  as  us,  immortal  as  the  Elves  would  consider  as  one  of  them  …  but  you  have  also  flaws  of  the  Men  …  knowing  you  were  raised  by  wizar  and  halflings  !  An  uncommon  visitor  !     ❞

#tiimecrash #ic :: gandalf #frodo third timeline tag #gandalf and sola tbt. #pre quest of erebor tag #long post /

[middleearthpixie]

This was the artwork I commissioned, Baby It's Cold Outside done by the amazing ConsultingPacha for the #FotFicPinupCalendar2023 organized by @frosticenow.

and this is the fic (A Bit of Home) I wrote to accompany it...

A Bit of Home

Summary: The Hobbit, Post-Sack/Pre-Quest for Erebor 

You’re spending your first Yule with Thorin, but being that you are from this world and not Middle Earth, you miss Christmas as well. At least, you do until Thorin brings a bit of it to you

Pairing: Thorin x Fem!Reader

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, reader, 

Warnings: Nothing but fluffy fluff to be found here

Rating: G

Words: 2,742

***

Snow shifted softly through the trees, settling along the branches to dust them white. Here and  there, a cardinal showed through, their scarlet feathers looking like drops of blood against the stark background. The fire crackled softly on the hearth in the great room, and in the kitchen, where you stood, another crackled as well, a bit louder and the flames danced a bit higher, but it kept the kitchen warm enough.

It was your first Yule in Middle Earth and while you’d grown used to your new home, you couldn't help but miss your old one from time to time. The bouts of homesickness had lessened, of course, but you were fairly certain they’d never go away entirely, no matter how happy you might be now.

And you really were happy. It had taken some doing to convince Thorin you weren’t mad—after all, one could hardly fault him for thinking otherwise when he happened upon you, wandering about the woods not far from the village of Hamelin, wearing strange clothes he’d never seen before, and talking about things such as cell phones and the internet. You tried to explain the concept of a wormhole and falling through one to land in his place and time, but since you didn't really understand it yourself, you might as well have been talking Greek to him, as your mother would say. Still, the important part was how you managed to convince him you were perfectly sane and that you weren’t about to attack him or worse. He offered you a place to sleep for the night and you never left. Over time, he helped you settle in and things being what they were, you were now a couple. 

But as the holiday drew nearer, the homesickness worsened. No one back in your time, in your world, knew what happened to you. You were probably just considered missing and you tried not think about how worried your family must have been. Especially at that time of year. You wished you had some way to let them know you were alive and well and very happy, but since there were no internet connections or cell towers to be found, you could only hope they felt it somehow.

You tried not dwell, and Thorin was endlessly patient as he listened to you describe what Christmas was like, and at its heart, it really wasn't all that much different from Yule. Thorin smiled as you tried to describe Santa Claus, merriment dancing in his pale blue eyes as he said, “He sounds like Bombur, only taller.”

“And with white hair, instead of red,” you’d said in return. “And not nearly as quiet.”

He’d asked you questions about your traditions, explained to you about the dwarven ones, adding, “And if the time comes where Erebor is ours once more, the celebration will be even grander.”

Erebor. His ancestral home deep within the Lonely Mountain, whose throne he stood to inherit was now in the possession of a firedrake from the north known as Smaug the Terrible. Thorin spoke every now and again of returning to the mountain, of taking back what was rightly his, but at the same time, he seemed very content with the home you’d created for the two of you. He worked as a blacksmith to put food on the table and keep the roof over your head and while it wasn't the same as being a king, he did very well just the same. He was an artisan, and people came from all around to commission pieces from him in addition to purchasing the more mundane, everyday tools he forged as well. 

As the holiday grew closer, Thorin found himself working longer hours. More often than not, you ate supper alone and were fast asleep by the time he came home. He was up with the sun and gone before you awoke and while you understood, you missed him just the same and looked forward to the time when he’d keep more normal hours.

The kettle whistled to let you know the water boiled and you’d just plucked it carefully from the hook over the fire when there came a knock at the door. You set the kettle down and moved to the kitchen door to open it.

“Good morning, madam, I’ve a missive from the village for you.” 

He held out the folded sheet of ivory parchment sealed with a scarlet D, which made you smile. Why the deuce was Thorin sending you a missive when he could just come home and tell you? True, the cozy stone cottage was at the opposite end of the village, but it wasn’t that big of a village to begin with and the trip would take no more than twenty or thirty minutes, tops.

Even so, you thanked the courier and as he strolled off into the snow, you cracked the seal and unfolded the parchment. 

“Mesmel,

“Please come down to the village tonight at half-six. I’ve a surprise for you.

Yours, 

T”

Mesmel. Jewel of all jewels, he’d explained the first time he’d whispered it to you. Without fail, you smiled every time he spoke it, and did so now seeing it in writing. 

And a surprise? He wasn't much one for surprises, or of frivolity of any sort, really. He was stoic and serious and rarely smiled, although he seemed to smile much more often of late, even if it wasn't nearly as often as you’d like. 

Your mind boggled all the rest of the afternoon and as the time approached, you grabbed your sensible woolen cloak to draw about your shoulders and hurried out into the swiftly falling snow. The sun had begun its descent into the horizon and the air was crisp and cold, your breath a frosty cloud of silver vapor with each breath, swirling about you as you made your way from the stone cottage at the end of the lane to trek your way into the village proper. 

You smiled and bobbed your head at those you passed along the way. Hamelin was an eclectic village of Hamelin, with its mix of dwarves, Men, and even an occasional elf here and there. They all regarded you with suspicion at one time, but lately the smiles seemed more genuine and you didn't get the feeling they whispered about you behind your back nearly as often as they once had.

Thorin’s blacksmithy was at the far end of Stone Street, a large rustic wood-and-stone building from which plumes of smoke rose and the clang of steel meeting iron rang out the way church bells chimed. As you drew near, you not only heard the clanging, but felt it as the vibrations rippled through you with each strike of the hammer. It rose in volume, in a steady rhythm and you could almost picture Thorin there, at the anvil, hammer in his right hand, lifting it high above his head only to bring it down with incredibly force to slowly, steadily, shape the iron he forged into a gleaming blade that would soon be polished to a mirror finish when he was through.

The door to the front of the shop opened with the cheerful tinkle of the bell above it. The clanging stopped, then a deep voice bellowed, “Who goes?”

“Someone sent me a message requesting I stop by.”

“Mesmel.” You heard the smile in his voice as he said that one word. “Wait a moment whilst I clear up this mess.”

“What are you about, Thorin?” 

“You will see.”

“Thorin?”

“Trust me, mesmel.”

You sighed softly as you reached to unfasten the frogs at your throat and then whisked your cloak from around your shoulders. It was always so warm in the shop and today was no exception. Various dull scraping sounds and an occasional thud came from the back, each followed by, “Everything is fine, stay where you are.”

“Thorin, this is getting silly.”

“Very well,” he let out a heavy breath, “come back.”

You skirted the front desk, and made your way around toward the rear of the shop, where tools and works in progress were kept along with orders awaiting pickup. Along the rear wall was a hearth large enough for you to stand in, and while it normally had a raging fire crackling away, this one was now far smaller, casting enough light to give everything a soft, ivory glow.

But, instead of the tools of his trade being scattered about, the work area was tidied and you smiled at the small table, and two chairs he’d set up, which explained the scraping and thuds. Upon that table stood an elegant, if somewhat tarnished candelabra holding the stumps of candles, whose dancing flames belied the candles’ rather sorry state. 

A bottle of wine and two goblets stood together as well. The goblets didn't match, but you didn't care as you smiled at the sight. Your dwarf was not much one for overly romantic gestures on a regular basis, but when he gave into them, they were memorable, to say the least. 

He came out of the back room and you could only stare, a smile tugging at your lips as you took in the sight of him dressed in only his black, rough-hewn trousers and a red Santa cap set at a slight angle atop his head. In the gleam of the firelight, he looked beyond handsome—almost mystical, really—with the glow highlighting the swells of muscle along his shoulders and wrapped down about his arms. His long, curly black hair spilled over those broad shoulders and his smile reached his eyes, softening them to near sapphire.

“Thorin,” you said, draping your cloak over your forearm, “what are you about?”

“I know you miss your world, and your traditions and I know I’ve been running like a madman these last few weeks, but I didn't want you to think I’d forgotten how important those traditions are to you. Merry Christmas, I believe, is what you tell people in your world?”

You nodded, your throat tightening as tears stung your eyes. “Yes,” you managed to whisper, “we say merry Christmas.”

He stepped closer. He was tall for a dwarf and you were short for being of Man, which meant you were both the same height. The same height, but he was far broader across the chest and shoulders, and his legs were far thicker than yours would ever be. He was handsome and utterly perfect in so many ways and without thinking, you lay your hand against his chest, your fingers slipping through the soft, dark hair that curled away from his skin as it stretched from shoulder to shoulder and down over his firm belly. 

“Merry Christmas, amrâlimê.” He bent to you, his lips soft, his heavy, black beard shot through with hints of silver prickly against your skin. Those lips met yours, moved slowly against them, parted as the tip of his tongue swept between your lips to tease yours. 

You slid the hand on his chest up, around to his nape to pull him closer. Heat from his massive hands sank into you as he wrapped those powerful arms about you and crushed you close. He bent you back, his hands splayed against you—one on your upper back, the other cupped about your lower cheek.

His kiss was slow and teasing and deep and you almost sighed when he broke it and pulled back to press his forehead to yours. “I have a gift for you, mesmel,” he murmured.

“You mean, this isn’t it?”

A low, rumbling purr of a laugh bubbled to his lips. “It is not, no. But, I’m glad you think it could be.”

“You’re hot, Thorin,” you told him as he straightened up and stepped away from you. “You have to know that.”

“Everyone is hot in here,” he replied with a hint of a puzzlement. “Because of the fires.”

You smiled. Almost a year together and you still had to explain certain expressions to him. “Yes, that’s true, but you are hotter than anyone else in this room at any given time.”

A hint of color rose along his cheekbones, above the line of that thick beard. “I thank you for the compliment.”

As he spoke, he moved toward the workbench along the far wall. “I know I’ve been going like a madman lately, and you’ve spent far more time alone than you bargained for.”

“I understand. You’re in demand and rightfully so.” You looked about at the wall to your left, where there hung blades and axes of varying sizes and embellishments, from a simple, plain sword to those with finely etched and ornate handles encrusted with gemstones set in precious metals. “You’ve got a gift, you know. You’re more an artist than a tradesman.”

He looked up, his forehead furrowed beneath the brilliant white fur rim of his Santa cap. “They are not mutually exclusive, you know.”

“No, I didn't mean it that way. I just—you have a gift and it shows through in every piece you forge.”

His forehead smoothed, to your relief, and he bobbed his head. “Thank you. Dwarves take great pride in their trades, you know.”

“I do, indeed.”

He moved a few things about on the bench, muttering to himself in a language of which you only knew and understood snippets. Then, he snapped his fingers. “Aha! There it is.” He peered at you over one shoulder. “It’s so small, I thought I’d lost it.”

With that, he plucked up a small wood box and with his free hand, gestured to the table. “Sit, mesmel, and close your eyes.”

You did as he said, and as you sank into the straight-backed chair, couldn't keep from asking, “What are you about Mr. Durin?”

“You shall see. Keep your eyes closed.”

You knew he’d neared by the way the air stirred before you, carrying on it hints of steel, iron, leather, smoke, and man. Thorin’s scent. You would know it anywhere. Your heartbeat sped up for reasons you couldn't quite grasp. Butterflies fluttered in your belly and you didn't know why. 

“Open your eyes, amrâlimê,” came his tender whisper.

You did and you understood at once why your heart and stomach went wild. Thorin was before you, on one knee, and in his huge palm sat the small teak box. And within that small teak box, on a bed of rich black velvet, was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. It was simple and elegant, understated to the extreme—a simple square-cut sapphire surrounded by diamonds that were pure white and dazzling. 

“I know you miss your people,” he began, his voice low and growly, “and you miss your family but I was hoping that perhaps you and I might start a family of our own to make up for what you’ve lost. So, I was rather hoping you would say yes, should I ask you to marry me.”

“Thorin…”

He lifted the ring from its velvet cushion, the sapphire sparkling and throwing off flashes of light in all directions as it glittered in the firelight, and gently eased it onto your finger, saying, “Will you marry me?”

You couldn’t speak at first. Your throat squeezed too tight and your mouth was so very dry. Your hand shook and as you met his beautiful blue eyes, your own stung even as you nodded and managed to croak, “Yes.”

His eyes softened. His smile grew wider than any you’d seen in the entire time you’d been in his company and as you eased from your chair to sink to your knees before him, you slid your arms about his neck, and then you whispered back, “There is nothing to make up for, though, Thorin. What I’ve gained in return it far greater than anything I left behind and there is nowhere I would rather be than right here, right now, with you, my half-naked dwarven Santa Claus.”

He grinned, reaching up to sweep the cap from his head. “I forgot I wore it.”

“You wear it well, Mr. Durin,” you murmured as he gently pressed you down into the warm, if  slightly warped, floorboards. 

He hovered above you, eyes glittering in the firelight, and a moment later, the only sound was the soft crackle of the flames and your low sigh of utter pleasure. 

***

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Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Richard Armitage #fotfpinupcalendar2023 #amazing fanart #short fic

[frosticenow]

Following the last chapter also very angsty!! Sorry it's late I was traveling but I will be posting two more chapters in the upcoming weeks before posting more of a Diamond in the Garden!

As always my wonder friend and beta reader @rosasynstylae did the betaing for this fic and you should also check out her fics she does some amazing writing!! (Note I did not send it to her yet because organization what organization but still check her stuff out it's amazing and I will probably get her to read it and update the chapter)

Rating: M

Relationships: Fíli/Original Female Character

Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, Strangers to Lovers, Tolkien boy in the Modern World, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Cultural Differences, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Courting, Hair Braiding, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Jewish Character, Pesach | Passover, Jewish Holidays, Canada, Past Sexual Assault, Meddling Valar, Dwarf/Human Relationship(s), Dwarven beauty standards, Angst, Pre-Quest of Erebor, Slow Burn, Gratuitous use of Khudzul

Summary: Fíli son of Víli and Dís, brother to Kíli and sister-son and heir to Thorin Oakenshield has gone missing without a trace. While his family in the Blue Mountains mourn him, the young prince finds himself in a world different from the one he has always known

#fanfic #fanfiction #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #hobbit fanfiction #modern girl in middle earth #mgme #mgime #Tolkien Boy in the Modern World #sneak peek #fanfic sneak peek #fili #fili durin #fili x oc #fili/oc #young man's fancy was turned into the spring #new chapter

[lordoftherazzles]

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

bagginshield | pre-quest/blacksmith au | explicit

Thorin labors as a blacksmith within the world of men to support his family and the other displaced dwarves of Erebor. Change comes to his monotonous routine when the smithy he works in unexpectedly comes under a hobbit’s management.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕

Thorin had busied himself with continuing to read over that letter, whereas Bilbo had been keen to go back to his nest of blankets and pipe—both taking turns in ensuring Roac was well cared for. The raven had no shortage of attention. Food, warm towels, anything he wanted, and all just remained silent, save for the crackling of the fireplace in the hearth room. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin’s voice finally broke through that quiet that had lingered within Bag End’s walls for hours now. “We need to talk.”

Four words that often carried something bad behind them.

#bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #bagginshield fic #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #thorin x bilbo #bilbo x thorin #hobbit fic #razzywrites #fic: may your forge burn bright

[legolasbadass]

Heart of Gold, Chapter 26

Characters: Thorin, Dis, Thrain, Dwalin, Balin, Original Characters

Relationship: Thorin x OFC

Setting: Post Azanulbizar, Pre Quest of Erebor

Notes: This is the 26th chapter to my Thorin Oakenshield fan fiction, Heart of Gold which can be read in full on ao3. Go check it out there to read from the start! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter and if you are enjoying the story so far!

⚠️ Warning: Some minor angst and 18+ content coming your way (Does this count as makeup sex?)

Word Count: 3.9k

Chapter 25 - I Will Always Choose You

Dania wandered aimlessly through dark hallways, torn between wanting to run back into Thorin's arms and fearing they might continue fighting if she did. She knew it had been foolish to walk away so abruptly as she had; she should have tried to explain herself to him, as she had always been able to in the past. This time, however, she struggled to understand her emotions. Happiness and relief at Thorin not having to marry Ester mingled with the fear of being discovered and torn apart, rendering her breathless. What if Ester threatened her again? What if she divulged her suspicions about Dania and Thorin? And what if Lord Thrain began to suspect?

Oh, Mahal, what a mess this whole evening was. Dania had known it would be difficult to make Thorin understand, but she had hoped they would be able to take comfort in each other's presence, at least. Now the thought of the empty bed awaiting her sent a chill through her, and more tears flowed from her eyes.

She hated herself for hurting him — she hated herself for hurting them all. She had let Dís' attacker escape. She was the reason they could not avenge themselves against Ester. And just when Thorin had looked forward to sharing good news with her, she had crushed him.

Above all, however, Dania realized she felt betrayed by Thorin. So much lay out of their control, as the whims and political schemes of other dwarf lords ruled the patterns of their lives. But when they were alone, it was different. Thorin had always respected her feelings, valued her opinion and made her feel like perhaps she was not as powerless as she often felt.

Until now, it seemed.          

Dania knew Thorin had meant well — knew he had acted out of love when he told his father he could not marry Ester, but all Dania could think of was how he had taken this decision without consulting her first. He had taken this decision for both of them without thinking of the consequences, and that recklessness might cost them everything.

After a while, Dania found the pass leading to the parapet above the gate. The night air was pleasantly fresh against her wet cheeks, and as she leaned against the stone, she let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. The sight of Thorin's dejected frown and the hope and happiness fading from his eyes as she responded to his news floated to her mind, and she wept until her throat burned and her whole body trembled from the exhaustion.

"Dania?"

With a gasp, she glanced back to find Víli standing behind her, his pale hair wild about his kind face, which bore an apologetic smile. Dania was startled to see him here but could not find it in her to question him about it.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked as he moved to lean against the parapet next to her.

"I needed some air," she replied, drawing her gaze back to the woods ahead, not bothering to dry her tear-stained cheeks.

"So did I," he said, paused for a moment, then turned to face her. "Dania I am sorry; I had no right to speak to you the way I did — "

The dark hallway. Dís' screams. The bruises on her wrists.

"You had every right," Dania said flatly, still not looking at him.

"What — Dania, no! Nothing could have ever justified me speaking to you the way I did, especially not when I should have been thanking you for saving Dís."

Dania shook her head. "If it wasn't for me she would not have needed saving in the first place."

Her eyes filled with tears once more even as Víli said, "Ester is to blame, Dania. Not you." A long moment of silence stretched out between them, broken only by Dania's uneven breathing before Vili spoke again. "I meant none of the things I said earlier. I was angry, and I felt powerless — it is a terrible feeling to know I could not protect her ... I simply needed to project my anger somewhere, and, well, I blamed you and Thorin...."

"But you were right; I hate that Dís must suffer in silence just so Thorin and I's secret remains safe," Dania said for what felt like the thousandth time. "I always knew this would be hard, and I was prepared to be hurt myself, but I never thought others would be harmed because of our secret."

"Dania ... please, I — I am sorry. Please believe me when I say I do not blame you," Víli said, his hand coming to rest atop her own. Dania was surprised by the gesture, but she appreciated it.

"I can't stop thinking about that night, and the way she wept in my arms ... and then later, Lady Adis did all she could to comfort me, but I was lying to her — I lie to her all the time and I just wish I had the courage to step away so that I did not abuse of her trust, but I'm a coward. I'm a coward and I'm selfish and I need her love even though I know I don't deserve it." Tears flowed freely down Dania's cheeks, and she tried to wipe them away with impatient hands. "They are my family, even beyond the bonds which must be kept hidden from them. They are my family and I love them, yet all I do is hurt them."

"That is not true," Víli said immediately. "You know that is not true."

Dania shook her head. "Even Thorin...."

"What about him?"

She paused. Then, somehow, almost despite herself, the words flowed from her. "I hurt him. I didn't mean to but I hurt him terribly," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as though that would make that reality less real somehow. "He asked me to trust him, and I do, but I'm just so afraid...."

Dania knew she was not making any sense, but what did it matter? She only wished Víli would leave now before she made an even bigger fool of herself.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him.

At first, she was surprised and uncertain, but when he brought a hand against the small of her back and rubbed a gentle circle, she held onto him even more tightly in return and let it all go. For a long moment, they stood there in silence under the stars. His tunic was soaked with her tears when she finally pulled away, but he did not seem to mind. He only seemed concerned, and for the first time in a long while, Dania did not feel guilty for having allowed herself to be comforted. He had held her willingly and slowly waited for her tears to recede. And no matter what the darkness in her mind whispered to her, Víli truly did not seem to hate or blame her.

"I'm sorry. I truly am," she said once again.

"I know you are. And so am I." Dania frowned, but then he said, "I know now what happened between you and Thorin after I left, or what is making you weep so, but please, go back to him. Whatever it is, you can work it out; I know you can."

Dania shrugged. "It's just ... we've never had a fight before."

"All couples fight sometimes."

"Not us." For a moment, Víli seemed on the verge of disagreeing with her, so she looked away. Then something caught her eye.

The darkness of the night made Dania unsure, but her keen eyesight, combined with the bright light of the midsummer moon, convinced her that she was not hallucinating. In the distance, emerging from the woods, were two figures. Two dwarrowdams. One was tall, slender, and dark-haired; the other, shorter, with golden hair that reflected he light of the stars.  

Nàl and Illiana.

"Dania?" Víli said, calling her attention back to him as he squeezed her shoulder. "Come on; let us go back inside."

Nodding absently, Dania turned her gaze back to the woods, but Nàl and Illiana were gone. She wondered what reasons could justify their presence in the woods so late at night, but as she walked with Víli, that tightening feeling returned deep inside her chest, chasing away all other thoughts from her mind. She did not want to fight with Thorin. She did not want to see the dejection in his eyes and feel that distance carving itself between them. But most of all, she did not want to return to her cold and empty bed.

***

Dania was not alone.  

The room was quiet — so quiet she was sure her heartbeat was louder than the crackling fire in the hearth. She knew by the way Thorin's shoulders tensed slightly that he heard her come in, yet he did not look at her. His eyes remained fixed on the flames, though whether out of shame or dread, Dania did not know.

"I'm sorry I stormed out." Dania's voice sounded strange and foreign to her, but she forced herself to go on even as Thorin continued to ignore her. "I just needed some air — I needed some time to think."

"So you said."

Dania's heart tightened in her chest. His voice sounded so cold. So distant. This was not how it was meant to happen.

But Thorin was still here. He had not run away. He had waited for her. That gave her hope.

"Thorin — "

He stood up at once and marched toward her, stopping so close to her that their bodies almost touched, yet an insurmountable chasm seemed to stand between them.

"Before you say anything, please let me say one thing," he interjected, slightly breathless, and by the cracking of his voice, Dania knew he must have cried while he was alone. "I know you are scared and I am sorry to have made you even more afraid and worried than you already were, but we will get through this. I do not know what I did wrong but please let me make things right."

Tears stung her eyes, and she forced herself to push away her hesitation and uneasiness to press her hand gently against his arm in what she hoped was a gesture of reassurance. "Oh, Thorin, I'm so sorry, I — I reacted poorly to your news, but it was not my intention to hurt you," Dania began slowly, staring at the dark waves of Thorin's hair. The last time they had been together before Thorin had left with his father's company, she had braided his hair with the utmost care, weaving the pattern of her love and passion for him to carry wherever he went. The memory seemed to belong to another person, and it took all her strength not to weep at the thought.

"I thought you would be happy," he said, looking away.

"Thorin, I am more than happy that you do not have to marry Ester," Dania said in a breathless voice, her conflicting emotions constricting her throat. "For months you have been telling me that we would find a solution and I am sorry to admit that I did not believe you; I was sure she would take you from me."

Thorin still refused to meet her gaze, but the deep frown on his face was receding, and his eyes began to soften. Dania watched his face for a moment more; his sun-kissed skin shone like gold in the warm light of the fire, and all she wanted to do was press a myriad of kisses all over it until the smile she loved so dearly returned to his lips at last.

"But you must understand — everything is already so precarious, and I know that, despite our discretion, something could happen at any moment to separate us. " Dania said once more, her own voice cracking now. "I don't have a say in anything; your father and his advisors have much more power over our lives than I do. But when we are alone ... it's different. You value my opinion, especially when it comes to our relationship. We have always done everything together—until now. That you would do something as big as refusing outright to marry Ester without consulting me first makes me feel like I am completely powerless. Now your father will be looking for the true reason you do not want to marry Ester — and do you see what happens when people grow suspicious? All I can think of is that I might lose you."

When Thorin's hand came to grab her own and hold it above his heart, Dania let out a long, uneven sigh.

"Oh Mahal." A deep groan escaped him and he shook his head. "I am so sorry you, Dany, amrâlimê." He was looking at her now, his eyes wide with fear and wet with concern. "I never meant to hurt you, and I admit I did not think. I hate Ester for how she spoke to you after the wedding. I hate her for giving in to her family's plans and wanting to marry me. And now I despise her even more for her transgressions. My father reminded me of his approval of the match and told me he expected me to look presentable to greet Ester today, and I snapped. I wanted to do one thing that would make you happy — that would ensure that you did not regret — "

He did not need to finish his thought; Dania knew. She knew, and her heart broke all over again.

"Never!" Dania said immediately, shaking her head. "Oh, Thorin — you are stubborn, yes. You can be reckless, and irritating even, and being with you is complicated, to say the least, but I will never regret marrying you. I know deep down that you are my One, but in truth, it does not even matter whether or not Mahal made us for one another, because I chose you. And I will choose you every day of my life, Thorin."

With a short, relieved sigh, Thorin leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, his deep blue eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"I promise you, I will never make decisions concerning our relationship without consulting you first," he said, then pressed a soft kiss onto the tip of her nose. "We will deal with Ester — with everything — together. Always together, I promise."

The right thing to do would have been to come up with a plan straight away. Leave nothing to chance and strike before anyone else could. But she was so tired. All she wanted was to be held by him, and she did not have the strength to fight with her own mind, so she merely nodded and leaned against him. "I don't want to talk about her right now. I don't want to talk about any of it, just for tonight. "

Thorin regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, his free hand coming to rest on the back of her head, then said, "Whatever you wish, amrâlimê."

Dania raised a hand to caress Thorin's beard, the pad of her thumb tracing its outline, revelling in the familiar comfort the coarseness brought her. When she met Thorin's eyes once more, she did not have to utter a single word for him to know exactly what she needed.

In an instant, his lips moved against hers, the sweetness and gentleness of the touch making her heart flutter. Needing more of his closeness to banish the fears still clamouring in her mind, Dania wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips to welcome his tongue, moaning at the promise behind the heated caresses. Thorin's hand tightened its hold on her hair while the other moved down to hold her waist, burning her skin through the thin fabric of her summer dress. Dania yearned to feel his naked skin against her own, but once again, she did not need to speak or even halt the caress for even a second for Thorin to know what she needed.

He drew her body hard against his to relocate to the head of the bed, where he gently lay her head on the pillow before moving to trace a wet path down her throat, pulling a desperate whimper from her now swollen lips.

"Oh, Thorin..." Dania murmured, her voice heavy with longing as Thorin found the sensitive spot below her ear.

Thorin pulled back just enough to watch Dania's face, causing her to whimper in protest. "I have missed you so much, Dany," he said in the same tone.

"I missed you, too," Dania replied in a breathless voice, the tenderness in his eyes coupled with the tingles he sent through her slowly calming her perturbed mind.

His lips returned to caress her skin, now following the line of her collarbone as his hands moved to unlace her bodice. When the laces of the bodice were halfway undone, Thorin slipped a hand beneath the stiff fabric to sweep his thumb across her hardening nipples through her chemise, and a flame of desire burned its way through her blood. Dania desperately wanted to keep watching him — she wanted to see what he did to her and the smirk that graced his lips while he pleasured her, but with the emotions of the day still at the back of her mind, she let her eyes flutter close and pressed her head into the pillow, drifting peacefully on the waves of pleasure he sent rippling through her.

Dania felt her bodice open up completely, then Thorin's fingers curled around the neckline of her chemise and lowered it to expose her heaving bosom to the warm air of the bedchamber. In an instant, his lips closed in on the tip of her right breast, and pleasure pooled between her thighs, making her arch toward him. Oh, Mahal, she had almost forgotten how skilled he was with that tongue! Then, she remembered how wonderful it had felt against that secret place between her legs, and more heat spilled from her. She needed him to taste her and tried to tell him as much between broken moans and uneven breaths. She was not at all sure he understood her until he had discarded the rest of her clothes and his own and pressed a path of kisses down her belly before spreading her thighs apart. The sight of his strapping body settled between her legs was enough to make the whole room spin around her.

When the first touch of Thorin's lips against her damp curls caressed her, Dania lifted her head just enough to watch him. He was looking up to her, his eyes gleaming with unequivocal love and unguarded desire, reassuring beyond words and almost as pleasurable as each flick of his tongue against her.

"Oh, Thorin..." Dania moaned when he swirled the tip of his tongue over her pearl, and the hot bliss tightened further in her core. Chasing more of that fire he sparked in her, she began to move against him. Thorin's responding moan sent further ripples of pleasure through her. Already, her peak drew near, and Dania could only beg for more, Thorin's name falling from her lips like an ancient spell in a language only they knew.

One hand now buried into his mane, she held him tight against her, dizzy with passion, until, at last, he sent her over the edge with one marvellous flick of his tongue. Stars scattered her vision as she arched against him, her body trembling as wave after wave of rapture caressed her from the inside out. Eons later, Thorin's lips traced a wet path along her inner thigh, then up her hips and belly, lingering on her breasts before reaching her lips.

"I missed the sound of my name on your lips so much, amrâlimê," Thorin murmured between languid kisses.

Smiling against his lips, Dania moaned his name again, all while she spread her legs further apart, her breath hitching as she felt the hardness of his desire against her still throbbing core. Her whimper mingled with his groan. Then, looking deep into her eyes, he slipped inside her all the way, the fulness sending a rush of tingles through her, and suddenly, it was as if she had never come at all.

Despite the depth of their yearning and the intensity of their desire, both stilled, allowing themselves a moment to simply savour being one once more, the reassurance of the connection nearly overwhelming after the revelations of the day.

"Thorin," Dania murmured against his lips, trying but ultimately failing to express her emotions as the tingles in her core turned to searing pleasure. But no words were needed for Thorin to understand.

"I know, Dany," he replied, his voice incredibly tender as he cupped her burning cheeks, his breath fanning against her face.

Never tearing his eyes from hers, he began to move. There was no hurry; now was not about chasing unrivalled peaks of pleasure. It was only about being closer to one another — as close as possible — and never letting go. With a gentle hand, Dania caressed Thorin's chest, travelling over his well-defined pectorals before carefully tracing over the scar at his side as though trying to brush away all the pain he had ever felt. Then she wrapped her legs around his waist, sending him deeper into her. With every brush of his hardness against the sensitive spot deep inside her, the cracks in Dania's heart faded away to be replaced by an even greater love for the dwarf who filled her. Her husband. Her Thorin.

Flames hissed on the hearth as their exchanged endearments and quiet moans enveloped them like a warm blanket on a winter night. Thorin reached for Dania's free hand and brought it atop the pillow to intertwine their fingers. Then, his nose brushed against hers as he bent his head to meet her lips halfway in a gentle kiss filled with the memory of the vows they swore to each other at their handfasting. The raven waves of his hair fell like a curtain around them and became entangled with her chestnut locks.

The world faded away. Nothing else mattered but this moment. No one else mattered but them.

With a stifled cry of pleasure on her lips, Dania gave in to her passion; a slow, gentle wash of pleasure that lingered in her limbs for a long, blissful moment, her muscles buzzing ceaselessly to coax out Thorin's own release. He continued to move as he spilled his seed inside her, the warmth of it making her shiver with pleasure, then stilled.

Pressing his face into the crook of Dania's neck, he sighed contentedly, sending a sleepy smile onto Dania's face. She could not say how long they remained in that embrace, savouring the lingering effects of their climax, but it was some time before Thorin began to move. Even then, Dania refused to let him go.

"Dany — " he said, now holding himself up on his elbows, pulling away just enough to study her face.

"Stay inside me? Please?" she asked shyly, not wanting to lose this most intimate physical connection.

His eyes softened at the tenderness of her request, then he leaned in to kiss her softly. "If that is your wish."

Holding her tight against him, he rolled onto his side, bringing her with him by hooking her thigh over his hip, remaining sheathed deep inside her as they wrapped their arms around each other. Surrounded by his familiar warmth and the comforting smell of pine and leather and musk that was uniquely his, Dania's hand tightened around one of his temple braids, and they shared myriad kisses until they fell asleep.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Amrâlimê: My Love

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