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multific · 8 months

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A Life We Can Have

Beorn x Reader

Warnings: injury

Summary: After an unlucky night where you were chased by Orcs, your life forever changes when a huge bear saves you.

You wake up with a sudden realization.

You had no idea where you were, or how you got there.

All you could recall from the night before was that a bunch of Orcs were after you as you ran through the woods.

With a bleeding leg and a possibly broken wrist, you tried to dodge their arrows.

You ran fast but they managed to catch up. One of their wolves bit your ankle, making you fall and let out a groan of pain.

You could recall the loud noises the orcs made, you remember crying and the pain in your ankle and wrist getting worse.

Then a giant bear came out of nowhere and killed them all.

Your last thought was that you would be the dinner for this bear. You weren't exactly sure what happened after that at all.

But somehow, you woke up in this rather nice and cosy house.

As you moved, you let out a groan, the pain in your body finally setting in. You ran for so long, your feet hurt. Your ankle hurt where the wolf bit you and your wrist hurt because you fell and injured it.

You looked around the house, but no one was there.

You thought a giant might have lived there, given how huge everything was.

You were only a simple human, but you were well aware of all creatures that lived on this Earth with you. But you had no clue what kind of a creature would live in such a house.

You slowly got off the bed and made your way over to the table where you found bread, so you took a little.

This is when you hear the noise of someone chopping wood.

Being mindful of your leg, you slowly walked out and this is when you saw him.

His back was to you, and you took a moment to take him in.

He was huge, he easily chopped the wood with his giant axe. His back was covered in scars and along his spine he had hair going down, it looked more like fur.

A very hairy man, but who were you to judge?

You heard stories of a beast living alone in the woods. He cared for the animals but he didn’t like company.

A fierce man, who was now chopping wood in front of you.

You weren’t sure if you should talk to him or not, one thing was for sure, you didn’t want to startle him.

“Umm.” you started but as soon as you did he turned around, with that huge axe in his hands.

“You should be resting, you hurt your leg very badly.”

“I-I did but… Am I at your house?”

“Yes.” he replied with a lot of annoyance in his voice and you nodded.

“So, you saved me last night from the bear? Thank you.”

“Go back to bed. I’ll prepare some tea once I finish chopping the wood.” you didn’t argue, why would you? Or rather how could you?

The man was huge but you saw him more as a gentle person, despite his rough edges.

And you also feared that instead of the wood, he would chop you in half.

You just slowly moved back into the house and sat on the chair by the huge table. Your leg did hurt and your wrist was throbbing a little, but your mind was still running at a hundred miles. You tried to recall what happened but couldn’t.

You knew you fainted, but then what happened to the bear? Did this man scare it away? Did he fight it?

He did look rather dangerous with his axe. Maybe he could take the bear in a fight.

Whoever this man was, he certainly lived alone, looking around his home it was cosy, but it didn’t have the touch of a female, clearly, he was a bachelor. Not that it was a problem, it was only an observation on your part.

You needed to think of other things because if you didn’t, the pain would hit you.

You heard him enter through the door as he soon headed for the stove. In complete silence, he started to make tea for you as you munched on the bread you took earlier.

He clearly didn’t have many visitors. You watched as he worked, trying your best to ignore the pain, you watched his hands work, you watched as a shackle was on his wrist, it must have been there for some time now.

He soon put a cup in front of you.

“Drink it and leave.”

“Uhm, but my ankle…” you were very much up playing the pain. It made the huge man in front of you groan.

“Alright, you can stay until you get better. I’m not too fond of visitors.”

Clearly. But he will have to deal with you because you don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Especially not when there are Orcs in these woods and you have only one working leg.

Even if the pain wasn’t that bad, you still preferred the comfort of a home over the cold floors of the forest.

---

"What is this?" you asked him as you munched on the deliciousness in your hand.

"Honey cake."

"I really like it." you said. "Did you make it yourself?"

"I did."

"It's really really good."

He didn't reply, but you didn't expect him to.

Your leg and wrist felt much much better now. His herbs worked better than magic.

You also noticed that slowly, he warmed up to you. He even offered you his smaller room so you didn't have to sleep on the hay or floor.

He was a strange man.

Affectionate, yet he looked afraid of it.

You could see that deep down, he was a very warm person. However, the terrible things that happened to him, made him cold.

Winter was near.

So Beorn told you that you will need to help him with his farm and animals. You had no problem with that. Given that you grew up on a farm, and you loved to help.

And by the time the snow arrived, his home was ready for the harsh winter.

And so were you.

You made clothes for yourself and him. He didn't really want to take the clothing but now, he wore it every day. He said it was so warm, he enjoyed it.

It filled you with pride that he wore the clothes you made, he ate the food you prepared and he listened to you.

In return one evening, he told you a story, a story of his own, his terrible past and what he went through.

You cried that day, letting the tears fall as he reached over to wipe your tears away.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"My heart breaks for you. No one deserves that kind of torture." you said as you lifted your hand and touched the shackle on his wrist.

That day, Beorn promised himself he would never tell you another story of his.

He hated to see you cry.

He wanted to see you laugh, like you laughed when you played with his horses or bees.

How or when you became so important to him was a mystery to Beorn, but here he was now.

He sat in his chair as he watched you, you were making a blanket. You said his house was rather cold for you, so you needed something warm. He wanted to offer that he could sleep with you so you wouldn't be cold but he didn't want to cross that line.

He was sure you only viewed him as a friend and nothing more.

You often found yourself babbling and telling him stories. Stories he most likely would call nonsense.

But in truth, he loved listening to you talk. Every story he remembers and could recall at any moment.

One evening, after dinner, you just sat on the couch he made for you, you cuddled up with your blanket and a book when Beorn joined you. It was snowing heavily outside, so he wouldn't go out for his usual runs.

He sat down and you offered him a smile before you looked back at your book.

But out of the corner of your eye, you could see he was staring at you.

"Is there something on my face?" you asked but he shook his head, no.

He was behaving strangely. You tried your best to focus on your book but it was difficult.

"What are your plans once winter is over?" oh, he wanted you out of his hair.

"I-I-You don't have to worry, I'll leave as soon as I wouldn't freeze to death in the woods. I really appreciate your hospitality and I don't want to bother you longer than needed," you said but didn't look at him.

"It's no bother. I was asking only because then we could make you a bed."

"I have a bed." you looked at him, confused.

"You have a mattress, I was thinking of making a bedframe, so it is more comfortable."

"So you want me to stay?"

"Only if you want to."

"I would love to. I enjoy your land very much. The beautiful trees and the animals. I can only imagine what it must look like during the spring."

"Is my home the only thing you enjoy about being here?" you looked at his face as he avoided your eyes.

"What are you asking?" your voice was quiet, and he finally looked at you.

"I grew very fond of you, I never imagined myself in this situation, but... Love is not something I believe I deserve. I am a monster, my past is... awful. I do not deserve such a flower like you. But I also won't be able to let you go. Only if you reject my feelings- I want you to be happy here with me. But if you choose to leave, I won't force you to stay." his words honestly surprised you, you never expected him to confess to you.

"I would love to stay with you. I just wasn't sure of your feelings. You hide them very well."

"It is a skill I learned." you smiled at his comment.

He moved towards you and you moved with him, he pulled you into his arms and you never felt warmer.

It was quiet, you could hear his heartbeat and the fire crackle behind you.

"You deserve happiness as much as anyone." you said as he tightened his hold around you.

"Thank you." he whispered and he just held you for hours.

It was the first time in his life that someone touched him with care and affection for what felt like years.

And slowly, he started to believe he deserved this happiness.

---

Spring arrived with flowers.

As the snow melted and everything began to bloom, your love fully bloomed.

You looked at Beorn as he tended to the bees.

You followed him to his goats and helped him feed his horses.

A smile never once leaves your lips. And he is much the same.

Then you cooked lunch for both of you, he loved your cooking and you were happy to make him anything he wanted.

Given how fresh and amazing his crops were, it was easy to prepare something amazing.

Then after dinner, the two of you would go to sleep in his bed, him holding you close to his chest.

It was a simple life, but it was all you could hope for.

You often catch him smiling even if it's a small one.

You make him happy and he makes you happy.

This was the life you always wanted.

Although you never imagined you would have it with a man who can turn into a bear, you weren't complaining.

He was your bear.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

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#beorn the hobbit #beorn x reader #beorn x you #beorn imagine #beorn imagines #the hobbit trilogy #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #hobbit imagine #hobbit imagines #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings imagines #x reader #x female reader #beorn fanfic

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betyloca · 4 months

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the bear and the jaguar

Summary: You escape from a giant bear along with Thorin's company. What your host doesn't know is that you are a werejaguar.

warnings: despair / memories of death / anguish / everything softens in the end

~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~

You were waiting next to the company for Bilbo to return. You were standing next to Gandalf, he was an old friend of yours.

He had recommended you for Thorin's company as a hunter, rather you were not a hunter but a predator, well that's how you felt.

In the distance you began to hear some familiar footsteps. It was Bilbo who had returned. Everyone turned to see him, relieved.

Gandalf: Did they see you?

Bilbo: no but...

Gandalf: What did I tell you, discreetly like a mouse?

Everyone began to agree with Gandalf. You noticed that Bilbo wanted to say something.

y/n: *screaming* silence

everyone was silent watching you

y/n: Bilbo, what did you see?

Bilbo: I wanted to tell you that there is something there and it is very big.

You could smell that there was another aroma in the air like a bear

Gandalf: I wanted it to be shaped like a bear.

Bilbo: Yes... how do you know?

Gandalf: There is a house not far from here.

Thorin: Is he friend or foe?

Gandalf: Neither of them, but it's the only way out.

We were running, the orcs were chasing us and now a bear, we had been running for a couple of hours.

Y/N: Gandalf, how much longer?

Gandalf: not much longer

I was going to protest until I heard a roar. I looked back and saw a huge bear. He looked upset.

y/n: fuck

We began to run faster until the house became visible, several came to the entrance trying to enter.

Thorin: They will open the door

I was running until I heard someone shut up, when I turned around I saw it was Bofur, I was running to help him.

y/n: quickly get up

He immediately got up and ran, he knew he wouldn't make it to the door so he started to attract the bear's attention.

y/n: *whistling* hey big guy come get me

The girl turned to look at me but started running towards me "this is a bad idea" I thought.

bofur: not my lady

I saw that he turned to see me, he tried to run towards me, but Dwalin stopped him. I saw that the bear was starting to act. I made a sign to Dwalin to take him away, and I started running towards the forest.

~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~

I ran so much that my feet hurt. It had gotten dark, I was under a tree. There was no sign of the bear, but you could hear the grubs.

I walked stealthily until I got behind a bush. I hated the guargos and the orcs were monsters. I raised my hand to my cheek, touching the scratch scar. I began to remember the day my life changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I lived in the forest with my parents, they were good, very loving people. One day I asked my father to play in the forest and he told me to be careful.

When I went out to play, I didn't realize how late it was. When I tried to come back, I heard a sound and some grunting. When I turned around, I saw golden eyes looking at me. A huge jaguar pounced on me, scratching my face.

When I woke up I was in my house, my mother said that my father found me, my mother brought a healer to check, she told them that I had the werejaguar curse, it would transform me into a jaguar.

at some point and that it was dangerous to have me around.

My parents decided not to listen to him and it happened when I turned 17, I had no control over myself and I murdered my parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I remembered that, I wondered, maybe the orcs and the guargos are not the only monsters.

I already controlled my transformation well thanks to Radagast who had found me and helped me control this power.

I started walking back to the house until I heard the sound of breaking branches I started to get closer I saw a man who was putting on a shirt he had long hair I was going to leave until I heard the sound of grunting he turned towards the sound seeing Suddenly I took off the coat I had on.

~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~

I had finished inspecting my territory so that I did not see orcs

I was in a bad mood, I know that when I got home there would be dwarves.

I was changing thinking about where that woman was, I didn't find her anywhere and if the orcs took her, I was remembering what she was like, she had golden eyes like those of an animal.

I began to feel that someone was watching me until I heard a growl I saw that a huge guargo came out of the shadows I put myself in defense it began to growl but I was about to transform until something pounced on the guargo I saw a jaguar was biting and scratching it until The guargo took him off of him. I saw that the jaguar stood in front of me while roaring at the guargo while the animal ran away from there.

I saw how the jaguar walked with a limp on one foot, it had a wound on one of its legs.

I knelt in front of him

Beorn: Come, I won't hurt you.

I saw how he growled at me and walked

beorn: how stubborn you are

I started to be sure until I saw her go behind a tree. I saw how she changed a woman, putting on a coat over her exposed skin. She turned to look at me.

x: what the hell do you see?

beorn: you are the woman who went with the dwarves

x: how do you know that?

Beorn: I'm a shapeshifter.

x: were you the bear?

I saw her get alert

Beorn: I won't hurt you.

x: why?

beorn: you saved me so you are not a danger

x: I'm not afraid of you

beorn: you're not like me

She looked at me and seemed to relax.

~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~

I saw this man. He seemed not to be afraid. It was strange to me that people are not afraid. When I told them, the dwarfs felt uncomfortable, but they accepted it.

y/n: what's your name?

x: beorn

y/n: I'm y/n

I saw how he smiled

beor: we should go back and heal that wound

We were walking side by side it made me feel small when we arrived I took him to his kitchen as I passed I could see how the dwarfs Bilbo and Gandalf were sleeping

I was happy that they were okay I saw Beorn walking towards me with some ointment for the wound.

beor:* sitting next to me* let's see, give me your arm

y/n: no, I do it

beorn: how stubborn you are

He said, taking my arm while he healed me. I looked at him, he had beautiful eyes. He looked up and I looked away, looking elsewhere.

Beorn: I'm done, wait here.

He got up and left, he started to inspect the house until he returned with a measure of clothes.

Beorn: You only have that coat so I brought you clothes.

I blushed when I remembered that I wasn't wearing anything under my coat.

y/n: thank you

I said taking the clothes.

beorn: behind there is a room you can change and sleep there

y/n: thank you big guy, rest

I said going into the room I could see a giant bed I sat on it and started to change my shirt it fit like a beast I put on my pants tying them with the belt of my coat I settled on the bed getting ready to get some sleep the pillows had their aroma began to fall into sleep while I thought about what would happen tomorrow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Would you like a second part?

#beorn x reader #x reader #the hobbit imagine #werejaguar #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fanart #the hobbit fanfiction #beorn #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #imagine #Spotify

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luna-redamancy · 2 years

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Happy 4 year Tumblrversary! ❤️ If you’ve got time, would you please write a little something for Beorn using prompt 16? Love you and your work ☺️

Hi, lovey! Thank you so much! Also- thank you for all your help through the years with prompts, ideas, and beta-reading to help me figure out where to go with a fic. I hope you enjoy this:

“Listen to me,” Beorn held your face in his hands, heart melting as you looked up at him with teary eyes. The orcs were so close, the growls of their wargs making you tremble.

“The second I get out there, you run out the back stables, down the hill, and toward the thicket.”

Beorn’s voice was calm despite how nervous he was, practically trembling himself.

“Climb the big oak tree and get up as high as you can, and stay as silent as possible,” He instructed you, looking you in the eyes while stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs in calming circular motions. The wargs were getting closer, and you just began to realize how in danger you two were.

“What about you?” You couldn’t help but ask, wanting to know why he would risk himself in this situation, why he would send you on your own instead of going with you.

Instead of responding to your question, Beorn pressed his lips against yours. His kisses earlier this evening were full of wild passion and love, but now? Now they were laced with fear and pressing ever so gently on your lips, pausing to savor the feeling. Who knew when…Or if, he would ever get to lay eyes on you again, much less feel your lips press against his own.

“I’ll get you as much time as I can,” Beorn said once you two separated, closing his eyes to relish the skin of your face beneath his hands before pulling away from you entirely.

“Do you remember my instructions?” He asked, pausing at the door.

“Yes,” You said, voice wavering as fear coursed through your body.

“Good.” He grunted, turning to look at you.

“Just in case… Remember this.” Beorn gave you a rare smile.

“I love you, my gentle mouse.”

“Bear��” Before you could say anything else, he flung the door open, body rippling as he shifted into his bear form. Tears stinging at the back of your eyes, you fled the house.

You never got to say you loved him back.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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Early Mornings

This is for my dear friend @medusas-hairband..a character I've never written before, so please, be lenient with me <3

Words: 1,2k

Characters: Beorn x reader

Warnings: none

Beorn set down the dripping pot of honey with a low grunt that you knew to be an expression of his desire for a reaction rather than a comment on the weight of the humongous receptacle.

“Hello, my love,” you purred, pressing a kiss – your lips still chilly from the cold outside – onto his furry cheek; you would have thanked him more effusively, but you knew that he’d just as soon feel your gratitude.

Raking your nails along his nape, you witnessed the blossoming of the hesitant smile that was a clear indication of the happiness he wouldn’t readily verbalise, and your own heart warmed at the sight of his fluttering lids and stilling hands.

What a tremendous, beautiful, and slightly frightening power it was to hold this impressive being in the palm of your hand, a thousand invisible tendrils of heartstrings and thoughts coiled around your fingers so tightly that – if you were to clench your fist too abruptly – you could wound him in ways unfathomed and awful.

Today, you were expecting friends and acquaintances for a late spring celebration, and you had promised to make your famed honey-cakes – one batch for your guests and one for your beloved – hence why you had been up even before the sun had risen on this beautiful day.

Upon waking though, you had already found your bed deserted and the comforting, warm presence by your side gone; not a man of many words, Beorn often preferred showing you how much he loved both you and your skills. Hence why – without losing a single syllable about it – he had gone out to make sure you had all the ingredients you’d need readily available.

Truth be told though, you would never have perfected this recipe without him and – despite being so huge that he frightened many a stranger – your husband flowed around you like water, never standing in your way and handing you tools and bowls without hesitation.

After years of being by your side, Beorn knew every step of the procedure by heart and so he – usually so lumbering and intimidatingly stoic – danced around you in perfect synchronicity.

It never ceased to amaze you how light-footed he could be, his strong arms reaching around you gracefully to retrieve sugar and flour from the high shelves he had built with his own two hands long years ago.

“Here,” he muttered, handing you another spoon, as he knew full well that you had already tossed the last one into the sink without remembering that there were yet ingredients to be measured out.

This one was your favourite; Beorn had carved it for you according to your exact specifications to measure out sugar and honey, and you only ever cleaned it with a damp cloth to prevent the wood from cracking and splitting due to excessive exposure to water.

“Can you help stir?” you asked sweetly, but your husband merely cocked an eyebrow at you, wriggling the tiny pot containing a rare spice you loved; you always bemoaned having forgotten to sprinkle a dash into the dough whenever you prepared the cake alone and – as he was by your side this time – Beorn tried to spare you the minute disappointment that dampened your enjoyment of your own creation.

“Ah yes,” you cheered. As you made to grab the container though, his hand shot up forcefully, effectively putting it out of reach.

“A kiss,” he demanded in a low rumble that sounded much more severe than it was.

“Oh? And here I was believing you were helping me for free because you love me so,” you replied in mock vexation while your arms already snaked around his sturdy neck, “you drive a hard bargain, Sir.”

You were able to keep a straight face for another few heartbeats before your expression melted into fond amusement and you nuzzled his cheek lovingly; the kiss – teasing and sweetened by the honey you had licked off the last spoon – you pressed onto his lips spoke of all the deep devotion that ran between you like a timeless river.

There had never been much need for great declarations and passionate speeches, not when his calm, reliable presence and his strong arms were so eloquent and telling.

Beorn’s massive paw cradled your slender hand, placing the spice in it like the treasure it was even as his own mouth curled into a mischievous grin; contrary to the common conception, he was a creature of great humour whose laughter was roaring and joyful enough to make the beams of your little house tremble.

Laughing under your breath, you added a smidgeon of golden spice and leaned back into his broad chest when his arms encircled you to help you stir – as you had asked him to – by closing his hand around yours once more and pushing the thick, wooden ladle through the dense, fragrant dough together with you.

By this time, you were humming a happy tune, safe and comfortable in the arms of your beloved who pressed small kisses onto the top of your head, each one of them an admission of pride, love, and support, as you poured your marvellous concoction into the greased mould.

“Oi, down you,” your husband hissed softly and, when you turned around to stoke the fire under the oven, you found Beorn covered in small critters – eager to see what you were doing and hopefully snatch a bite – which he carefully, but not without determination, tried to wrangle without you noticing.

Moreover, the fire was already blazing merrily, and the oven was ready to welcome the fruit of your labours. As your hands were occupied, you just pressed your cheek against his torso to let him know how much you appreciated all he did for you and the warm smile of gratitude he offered you in reply almost made you drop your unbaked cake because you so longed to hug him tightly.

Times were hard, you were the first to admit it, but – in moments like the one that melted into syrupy bliss between your flour-coated fingers – it seemed bright and marvellous to you; whenever it was just the two of you – alone without ever being lonely – you could believe again that this world was worth fighting for, Beorn and the sweet companionship you shared convinced you of the immeasurable merit of all that stood to be lost.

Beorn finally shook off his insistent friends and handled the transfer into the hot oven himself while you dusted off your hands absent-mindedly; the slow, careful grin of complicity and trust he gave you over his left shoulder made your heart throb with longing though and a devious idea came to you.

“Say husband,” you purred, “we shall be confined to this hut for the next hour or so. What say you to returning to bed as we wait for the cake to be done?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise and then his warm, broad hands closed around your waist and lifted you into his arms effortlessly.

“That,” he murmured as he pressed his face into the side of your throat, “sounds like a very good idea.”

So, that's all the requests for this weekend...

Sorry for the delay, life has been crazy lately and this week will be hell :(((

I hope you liked this my dear, if not, let me try again next week :D

Lots of love ❤️

#requests #IDNMT answers #fanfiction #Hobbit #Beorn #Beorn x reader #baking a cake #a good team

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justjbeboriginalo · 6 months

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Don't Die This Time

Kili Fanfic

Kili meets a girl who has to go along on their quest on Gandalf's request. The girl captures his attention from the first time they meet and they grow to love each other over the course of the quest.

Pairing: Kili x OC female who can control nature

Chapter 4: Calm Before The Storm

Warnings: none

Kili throws an acorn at Gaia which she dodges with ease, laughing loudly. He narrowly misses a shot against his arm from an acorn.

“You have terrible aim,” he says with a chuckle, slightly out of breath. Gaia pretends to be offended and sticks her tongue out at him.

He shakes his head with a smile before he throws another acorn in her direction, hitting her leg. She pretends to be wounded, flailing as she falls to the ground.

She lies on the ground and fakes a pained groan. Kili rushes over to her, laughing at her act.

“No, don’t die on me. Don’t you dare,” he shouts, crouching next to her. He puts his hand on the leg he had hit, pretending to stop the bleeding. Gaia lets out a loud laugh which turns into a wheeze.

“Wrong leg,” she says in between laughter. Kili bursts out laughing and throws himself backward on the soft grass.

Gaia lifts herself onto her elbows, giggling at the sight of Kili on the grass.

Kili is laying on the soft green grass, his chest moving up and down while he tries to catch his breath. His hair is sticking to his forehead and neck from the sweat.

He turns his head to look at her, a wide smile catching her eyes. She gives him a small smile before she sits upright. Kili copies her and also sits up, his hands resting behind him.

”Can’t you use the wind to improve your aim?” Kili asks jokingly. Gaia lets out a laugh, shaking her head.

“I can barely manage to control the breeze. How do you expect me to use the wind to move something?” Kili shrugs which earns a smile from Gaia.

“So, you can just control grass?” Gaia giggles at his oversimplification.

“Yes, and trees,” she hums as she moves the tall grass over Kili’s arms, tickling him. He shudders at the grass when it tickles his ears. He rolls away from the grass that threatens to encase him.

“And water?” he asks, his eyes filled with wonder at her. Gaia blushes at his interest. This is the first time someone has shown this much interest in her strengths.

“No success so far, but I keep trying.” She moves the grass back to its original space before she looks up at the morning sky. There are almost no clouds in the blue sky. She inhales the fresh scent of the grass which causes a tightening in her chest. She misses her forest. Her trees and their scent.

When she looks back at Kili, she catches him staring at her. She smiles slightly when he turns his head to the side, pretending to notice something in the distance. A redness creeps into his ears and she bites back a laugh.

“Oi, you two still need to get dinner,” Fili calls when he notices them playing around. Gaia and Kili look at each other, frowning at Fili’s statement.

“Why do we need to hunt? There are enough cows for a proper breakfast,” Kili says and looks at Fili. “And there is bound to be cheese and milk. We do not have to get food.” Fili raises his brows at Kili.

“Do not pretend to be smart, Ki. Just go, before Uncle scolds you two. You will both be put on night watch,” Fili warns them, a smile playing on his lips.

Gaia gets up with a soft groan and wipes the grass from her clothes. Kili lets out a huff before he also stands from the grass. They watch Fili enter the house.

“Where are we going to find meat without running into Orcs?” Kili asks as they start toward the forest. Gaia feels for any vibrations that could give her an indication of nearby Orcs.

“I think we will be fine during the day. It is still early morning, so we might catch some stray deer,” she says, hopeful.

Kili turns his eyes to her and sees the early light reflecting off her. Her pale slender fingers trace the trees whenever she passes one while her black hair dances behind her in the morning breeze. He has to avert his gaze when the familiar warmth spreads through his body, his heart racing. He has never seen anything so hauntingly beautiful.

Do not look for something that might be a mere illusion.

Fili’s words flash through his mind and he sighs in frustration. Gaia does not seem to have any ulterior motives besides assisting them to reclaim their homeland. She has been nothing but helpful throughout their quest, always doing the most.

“Are you all right?” Her enchanting voice pulls him from his thoughts. He gives a quick nod accompanied by a smile. She smiles back at him before continuing the search for meat.

Gaia suddenly stops, her brows furrowing. Kili rushes to her side. He places his hand on her arm while she keeps her hands on the tree, his eyes scanning for any danger.

“What is wrong?” he asks in a whisper. She looks at him, biting her bottom lip. Kili forces his eyes from her lips to look into her eyes.

“I think it is best to head back. I think Beorn might be back,” she says. Her hand wraps around his and she leads him back to the house in the middle of the open field.

They enter the house and notice a large man, a very hairy one, talking with Gandalf. A part of the company is sitting around the large table in the kitchen while the rest are still sleeping. Gaia notices Thorin sitting against the pillar in the kitchen, staring at his hands.

“Ah, Gaia and Kili. Meet Beorn,” Gandalf says, gesturing to the tall man. Beorn inclines his head, greeting them. Gaia gives a slight bow while Kili mimics Beorn’s movement.

“Where were you?” Gandalf asks while he busies himself with his pipe.

“We were looking for some meat,” Gaia answers. Kili sits down next to Fili and Gaia follows him, sliding in next to him.

“Here is more than enough.” Beorn’s voice is deep, almost a growl. Kili glares at Fili who puts his hands up in defense. Gaia has a tight smile as she bows her head.

The rest of the company has joined them around the table and Beorn hands mugs out to everyone, except Gandalf who is taking a puff from his pipe, and Thorin who is still seated against the pillar.

Beorn fills the mugs with milk as he addresses Thorin, asking him about Azog.

Kili downs the milk next to Gaia and spills some on her pants. She slaps Kili’s arm and he stops drinking to frown at her. She points to the milk on her pants and Kili mumbles an apology, wiping the milk from her pants with his sleeve. She shakes her head with a small smile.

Dwarves.

“The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved.” Gaia jerks her head to Beorn, the topic of conversation catching her attention. She had heard of the fate of skin-changers, but she had never met one before. This is the first time she has come this close to one.

Beorn warns them about the Orcs that can be found in the mountains. This catches the attention of the whole company, including Kili’s. His mouth stops chewing. Everyone is looking at Beorn, hoping he can be of assistance to them.

“I don’t like dwarves. They’re greedy. And blind. Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own.” Kili slightly turns his head to Gaia, uncertainty clear in his eyes. She places her hand on his leg, giving an encouraging squeeze. It is not entirely untrue. They are greedy. They are blind. But they are loyal once they deem you worthy.

“But Orcs I hate more,” Beorn continues, which eases the tension in the atmosphere. Gaia lets out a relieved huff. This could have gone badly.

Kili visibly relaxes at Beorn’s words and gives Gaia a satisfied grin. He returns his attention to the food in front of him, stuffing his mouth and swatting Fili’s preying hand away from his plate.

“What do you need?” Beorn asks Thorin. Gaia inhales slowly, readying herself for the Mirkwoods that still lie before them. That is still a whole adventure on its own.

Here they go.

#botfa #desolation of smaug #dwarves #eventual romance #eventual smut #fili and kili #friends to lovers #kili durin #slow burn #strangers to friends #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #gandalf #lord of the rings #tolkien #middle earth #beorn #thorin and company #orcs

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theblogofdurin · 2 years

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Cloaked in Green ||Pt.2|| Chp.19: Hunted

word count: 2.2k

summary: Beorn but let's add a little ✨️personality ✨️, plus ale deprived dwarves.

warning(s): drinking. Mention of prisonment, mentions of targeted groups with a little misogyny for flavor.

a/n: Well two things... 1. ITS MY BIRTHDAY (June18th) and yes I am old. 🙈 2. I AM GOING TO FANEXPO DALLAS TO SEE THE 4 LOTR HOBBITS ACTORS AND I'M SO PUMPED. I'LL POST MY EXPERIENCE. <- click to read.

P.S don't forgot to like and reblog and comment to let me know to keep writing this story!!

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!OC

Links here: series masterlist, chp.18

----

Gandalf dozed off after that, snoring softly in the overly large chair, pipe still in hand. I leaned further back in my chair as I tried to rest my body as much as it would let me, yet it seems my thoughts had other ideas.

First off....Thorin.

Something has been off, I don’t have any evidence or reason behind my thinking, yet; I feel like something is different. What am I kidding? The whole situation with him is different. It's strange and quite...

Ugh, secondly, Gandalf didn’t disagree with me when I spoke of the rising threat brewing in the air…so that must mean that he feels it too and fears the same. And if that is true and Sauron is regaining his power…that brings up another tangle of sleep deprivating thoughts.

Lastly, Can we truly reclaim the mountain? Erebor is a massive stronghold in the North. Directly east of Mirkwood, if the dark forces manage to capture it before us…or worse if they somehow manage to coerce Smaug into joining their ranks. We'll never be able to succeed, or least not without a massive loss before.

Chewing on the wooden end of my pipe, I tried to contemplate through the mess that was going on in my mind. The sun was already lightening the sky, when the faint hits of an axe started. Setting the wooden pipe down on the table, I carefully managed to step around some of the sleeping dwarves to peer out of one of the windows looking out over the front.

The massively large back of who I can only assume is Beorn greeted me. The muscles on his hairy back flexed slightly with each swing of the axe he took. Knowing full well that Beorn is not a friend of Dwarves, I quickly realized that if we are to have any chance of getting the shapeshifter's help I would need to talk to him alone…and like any of them would like to talk to him alone.

Taking the chance, moving back around the sleeping company, I stopped to look over one of the bodies. With half of his hair covering his face, Thorin slept quite silently compared to his fellow men.

Shaking my head abruptly, I moved my head to redirect me to my original purpose, gently opening the giant door as quietly as I could and stepped out towards the hairy shifter.

---

The sky was starting to show a faint orange hue as Aranea approached the tall figure. The figure turned slightly to look over his shoulder. “Who are you?”

“Aranea, daughter of Arathorn, Lady of the Dunedain,”

Turning fully to glance over her, Beorn moved his hands to rest slightly on his axe. “Never heard of you.”

Smirking up at the shifter, Aranea, still keeping her distance, moved to sit on one of the thumps. “Well, I would hope not, my people have tried very hard to keep my existence a secret on this side of the Misty Mountains. You can probably assume our reasoning."

“And why are you on this side then, Ranger?” He questioned gruffly tilting his head.

“I’m traveling with a company.” she smiled, “You met them already, remember? You gave them quite a fright.”

Barking a laugh, Beron's face brightened slightly at the memory. “How scare were they?”

“So scared.” Aranea laughed with him, “I never seen so many men scream like they did.”

While the pair were still chuckling, Aranea looked down at her hands in her lap. "I just wanted to thank you for letting us intrude in your lodgings." Gesturing lightly towards the door and back to the treeline behind the shapeshifter, "Though you probably understand our reasoning for such manners."

With a more glum expression, the smile dropped from Beorn's face. "Why is Azog the defiler chasing you?"

"It's the company I travel with, Azog was made a vow against-"

"They aren't dwarves are they!?!" Swinging his axe to grip it tightly, growling as he made a step towards the door. "I hate Dwarves!!"

Pointingly, Aranea raised a hand. "You and I both know that you already smelt them either on me or last night when you chased us." Aranea raised up her elbow slightly and sniffed hesitantly under her arm, flinching away to gag.

"Though" she shook her head "I wouldn't be surprised if my stench covered them."

Beorn with pinched eyebrows regarded the relaxed position the human was taking on the tree stump. One leg resting under her as she leaned forward on her knees. Tilting his head he almost whispered. "You're not afraid of me. "

Giving a small smile up at him, Aranea shook her head softly this time. "No. I'm not."

"Why is that?"

"Because I know what it's like to be hunted."

Beorn scoffed at this. "Do you really?" He waved a hand, letting his axe head rest on the ground again. "Do you know what it's like to watch your own kind get killed around you? To be captured and held prisoner." Beorn started to trail off,

"Not in that way." Aranea sighed. "But I do know what it's like to have to fight to survive." Gesturing with her hands slightly down at her blood stained tunic and vest. "As you can probably see, I was not raised like most ladies…but I am a Lady." Beorn gaze moved with her hands before looking back at her face.

Resting her hands back into her lap, she continued. "I was trained at an early age alongside my brother, after watching our father die for having the same blood that runs through our veins. The same taintness " Swallowing loudly, she added. "For having the same blood shared with a man who failed all of us…and all of Middle-Earth."

"Isildur?" Beorn eyebrows furrowed. "You're Isildur's Heir?" Aranea smiled sadly and nodded.

"Yes." She looked back down at her hands. "And I'm hunted for it." She looked back up at Beorn's face, "My Brother and I both chose Exile when the time came."

"Why are you traveling with a group of Dwarves then?" Beorn looked even more confused as he look briefly back at his house.

"Because the group I travel with, a company of 13 Dwarves are on a quest to reclaim their homeland." Noticing the shapeshifter's tighting grip on his axe handle, Aranea snapped at him "They wish nothing more then just to past through to Erebor."

Beorn interrupted her, his expressive eyebrows raising "The Lonely Mountain?" Puzzled, Aranea nodded again. "You are traveling with the one they call Oakenshield."

"Oh!" Aranea laughed. "You know him but not me, I see how that is."

Suddenly barking another laugh, Beorn shook his head. "You." He pointed down at her. "You, little human, confuse me."

"Yes, I am traveling with Thorin Oakenshield and Company. Along with a Wizard and a Hobbit."

Beorn raised a quizzed brow "Radagast?- You are traveling with Radagast the Brown?"

Laughing at his expression, "No-" she spoke in-between giggles at his expression. "No, Not Radagast, Another Wizard, by the name of Gandalf the Grey."

"Never heard of him." Beorn gumbled.

"Not surprising."

That caused both of pair to fall into an unceremonial laughter.

"So." Beorn spoke again, the visible tension off of his shoulders. "A Wizard, A Halfing, A Lady and Thirteen Dwarves…that's an-" he searched for the proper word.

Still regaining from her laughter Aranea spoke through breaths. "Yes I know, We make a unique group."

Turning slightly on her stump, Aranea looked back at the house, in one of the windows the clear outline of Bofur's hat darting out of view caused chuckles to leave both her and Beorn.

"I understand your distaste for dwarves, trust me I've spent the last 2 weeks with them, but, I promise you, from what I've seen…these dwarves are honorable."

Beorn stood silently for a few moments, judging the woman in front of him. Could he trust her? Could he trust her company that she speaks so highly of? Growling softly, he nodded.

"You are the most gracious, Beorn."

A loud squeak of the door and gently stepping out Gandalf smiled broadly at the two. "Master Beorn, it's so nice to meet-" With a roll of his eyes, Beorn looked over at the wizard. “-you in person, I wish to thank you for your hospitality and letting-.”

“I need a drink.” Beorn suddenly interrupted Gandalf, gesturing with a hand he asked Aranea, “Ladies do drink Ale, yes?” With a slightly brightened nod, Aranea jumped up following the shapeshifter as he walked past the bewildered Gandalf.

Linking her arms with Gandalf, Aranea spun him back around to walk with her. “Everythings handled.” she whispered “Just help me keep the others in line.”

"I hate Dwarves." Beron added again as he opened the door of his lounging, gesturing for Aranea and Gandalf to enter first. "But I distaste Orcs more so, you may all stay as you wish."

"Thank you again, kind sir." Gandalf smiled gratefully up at the man as he passed. Beorn grunted. "I suggest not leaving tonight ; however, you'd be followed immediately."

Walking into the front entrance where the dwarves and Bilbo were compressed. Beorn let out a humpf of annoyance. Gandalf raised a shaky thumbs up when the shifter turned to grab cups from the upheld cabinets. Aranea almost smiled when she visibly saw their shoulders and posture sag and sigh in relief.

"I assume the dwarves would like a drink as well?" Beorn turned, dropping 6 massive cups on the table before turning to grab more. "How about the halfing?"

"Yes, please!" Bilbo gulped quite loudly causing some snickers from both the dwarves and Beorn.

"I enjoy the company of shire-folk, no need to squirrel yourself." Beorn scoffed as he dropped 5 more cups on the table, before reaching back again "-though its been many years. laid back creatures they are, enjoy nature more than the company of other beings ."

Bilbo was intrigued to say the least. Peeking out from around Thorin, Bilbo silently moved closer to the table with the others. "You met other hobbits before me?"

Beron nodded as he dropped the last 6 cups on the table. "A Hardbuckle and a Proudfoot, I believe, were their names many decades ago."

"Really?!" Bilbo all but exclaimed, "This far east?"

Beorn laughed at the halfing shaking his head as he filled the ale pitcher from the barrel on the side of the makeshift dining room. "No, like I said it was long ago and I stayed on the other side of the mountains, closer to your Shire."

Bilbo let out an audible "Ahh. " Beron went to start pouring the ale in all the wooden cups that had been divided among everyone.

Fili and Kili almost wanted to cry at the sight of the tall ale. While Dori was holding back an eager Ori from downing all of his in one gulp. Bombur and Bifor didn't hold back though, finishing theirs off proudly, as Beorn wrinkled an eyebrow before refilling their glasses.

Aranea and Gandalf were perched next to each in chairs slightly adjacent from the others. Beorn walked over to them to pour through glasses before turning back to the body stiff in between the rooms.

"You must be the one they call Oakenshield." Beorn noted, filling his glass.

Thorin was massively irritated, both at himself and at the human lass sitting next to the wizard like she didn't just endangered her life 3 minutes ago. There was no telling what could have happened and yet she still blindly went outside while everyone was asleep…while he was asleep. He was the one who was to protect for Mahal’s sake and he could have just slept right through her being mauled to death. He wouldn't have be able to live with himself-

Suddenly snapping out of his thought enough to register what the predator/man-beast asked him. Thorin nodded jerkly at Beorn question. "Yes." He's voice very quietly confirming.

"Then, would you mind telling me when Azog the defiler is chasing you?"

"You know of Azog?" Thorin turned to face Beorn as the shifter moved back to the table, refilling Ori's glass, he nodded thoughtfully, Bilbo thought as Throin asked "How?"

With a longing sigh, Beorn realized the genuine curiosity behind the dwarf words before telling him "My people were the first to live in the mountains...before the Orcs came down from the North."

Beorn gestured over towards where Aranea sat "-even before the island people moved westward." Now with a more glum expression, Beorn decided to just leave the pitcher at the table, moving to sit at his chair in-between Aranea and Gandalf.

Talking as he went. The room was silent.

"The Defiler killed most of my family. But some he...enslaved. Not for work, you understand...but for sport." Mindlessly rubbing his wrist, Bilbo also gasped when he saw the shackles on Beorn's wrist. "Caging skin-changers...and torturing them, seemed to amuse him."

" There are others like you?" Dori asked hesitantly, he seemed interested in the concept of more shifters.

Beorn smiled, but everyone in the room could tell it was a sad smile. "Once there were many."

"And now?"

"Now there is only one."

----

taglist still open! @lokigirlszendaya @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @emrfangirl @lathalea @hr-nm-grnd-zr @markosgirl @demigoddesofchimichangagod @imaginesfire @kaysteahouse @tamnight @mithrandirssidehoe @panhoeofmanyfandoms @petrelrose @irisv-x @fandoms4everyone @Leabeiersdorf07 @nunyobuisness @fallinloveinoctober @mysterypotatoink @whore-of-many-hot-men @generalgoldfishldrm @thevanillahorizon @cloudcatchingstark @readingkitty @wolfers-stuff @depressedemo-152 @triffidgurl @nessarosefiction

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adore-archives · 2 years

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Falling Through by backwoodsbarbie, ao3

Fandom: The Hobbit, The Lord of The Rings

Characters: Original Child Character, Original Dwarf Character(s) C, Beorn Dain Ironfoot, Legolas, Thranduil, Bard

Relationship: /

Wordcount: 153,375 (20 Aug 2022)

Summary:

A young girl unwittingly walks into a world that's not her own.

#ao3 link #ao3 #the hobbit #fanfic #fanfiction #lord of the rings #thorin #beorn #dwarfs #female dwarf #lotr fic #lotr #jrr tolkien

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rynneer · 8 months

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Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing.

She’s carrying his child.

Chapter One: Meet Me in the Woods

tw: pregnancy

show me yours and i’ll show you mine—meet me in the woods tonight.

-Meet Me in the Woods, Lord Huron

You sit hunched over by the fire, poking at the cinders with a long stick and watching the rising smoke disappear into the leaves overhead. The stars are just barely visible as twilight descends over the woods. In the distance, a lonely wolf howls. You shiver, missing the security and sturdy walls of Beorn’s home. A sharp pain runs through your abdomen, and you unconsciously wrap an arm around yourself. The cramps are coming more frequently. You aren’t sure how much longer you can hide them before the rest of the Company catch on. For now, the dwarves seem preoccupied with making camp, too distracted to notice your discomfort. Bilbo sits beside you, his nervous eyes darting in your direction every once in a while. If anyone is on the verge of finding out, it’s the burglar.

Gandalf left the party a week ago, mentioning some vague business he had to attend to. Now, more than ever, you wish he had stayed—he was centuries old, surely he’d have some advice. But he’s gone, leaving you, a human woman, with thirteen dwarves and one hobbit. And he took the ponies, too. Your feet are in agony.

Another stabbing pain makes you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Y/N?” Bilbo nudges you gently. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile. “I’m fine, Bilbo. I’m just… thinking ahead.” You glance down at the book beside you. The Hobbit. The other members of the Company had clamored to read it once everyone had recovered from the shock of a young human waking up among them the morning after leaving Bag End. You refused to hand it over, and guarded it fiercely. Even if they were to read it, it’d be little help. Still, it’s a comfort you take solace in, even if you can’t remember what will happen beyond a few days.

Bilbo’s eyes follow yours. The hobbit doesn’t seem quite satisfied, but he doesn’t press further. You pick up the book and thumb through its blank pages. It’s about halfway full, the story only showing events that have already happened. At least, events as Tolkien wrote them. Events that didn’t account for a twenty-something woman crashing into the story.

Another cramp—a bad one. You quickly turn away from Bilbo, biting your tongue so hard you’re surprised you don’t bite right through it. You can’t take it any longer. With a sigh you get to your feet, absentmindedly adjusting your bra strap. “I’m going to get more firewood,” you announce to nobody in particular. A few of the dwarves grunt in acknowledgement. You scan them, evaluating who would take the news the best. Glóin? He’d have first-hand experience, but you haven’t spent much time with him. Not enough to talk about this. There’s the kind-hearted Bofur, but you don’t trust him to keep your secret for long. Finally, your eyes reach Balin. Perfect.

Balin was the first dwarf to readily accept you into the Company. He had taken a fatherly attitude toward you since the beginning, comforting you when the homesickness became too much to bear.

“Balin? Would you help, please?”

The old dwarf furrows his brow. There is already a small stack of firewood near the bedrolls. You put on your best pleading face. Still a bit confused, Balin shrugs and makes his way over.

Bilbo stands, brushing off his waistcoat. “Believe I’ll come along, if you’ll have me,” he says. “I could do with a brisk walk.”

Again, you bite your tongue. You consider the hobbit before you. The two of you have the most in common out of the Company, both thrust into some strange adventure and completely out of your depths. You relent with a sigh, leading your companions away from the fire until you can no longer hear voices bickering over who should sleep where and who took the first watch last night.

“Whatever you mean to tell us, I do believe we are quite far enough from the others,” Balin comments.

“What makes you think I want to tell you anything?” You keep your tone light.

“You’ve no tool for felling wood. What’s on your mind, lass?”

You stop, curling and uncurling a fist nervously before turning back to him.

“I… I’m not sure how to say this,” you mutter. Deep breaths. “I skipped my period. Two weeks ago. I never skip.” You begin pacing.

Bilbo glances back and forth between you and Balin with concern. “Period?”

“Shark week. Aunt Flo. The crimson tide. Bloody Mary. Japan is attacking. For fuck’s sake, my bleeding, Bilbo,” you snap, grabbing at your hair in frustration. “At first I thought maybe it was the stress of the journey, but I’ve been so tired, and my boobs have been sore, and my clothes haven’t felt right, and I wake up nauseous, and–”

“Lass,” Balin interrupts quietly, reaching a hand out to pause your pacing. Concern is etched into every line on his face as he looks up at you. “Are you telling us that you are with child?”

Without even thinking, you place a hand on your belly protectively. “I think so,” you whisper. Tears fill your eyes and spill onto your cheeks.

Bilbo gapes at you. “You’re pregnant?”

A sniffle and a nod. “Eight weeks along, I think.”

“Oh, lass,” Balin murmurs. He pulls gently on your arm, easing you to the ground and wiping your wet cheeks with his cloak. “How do you feel about it?”

“Scared,” the word escapes your lips before you have time to think. You look down at your lap, tears dripping onto your faded denim jeans.

Balin nods. “I imagine that’s the proper way to feel.” He pauses, searching your face. “You must tell Fíli.”

Your eyes widen and you snap your head up. “How…?”

“Well, it’s rather obvious,” Bilbo interjects. “Anyone with eyes could see it.”

Heat pulses from your reddening cheeks. “We were trying to keep it secret,” you mumble. “Especially from Th–”

“Y/N? Balin? Bilbo?”

A shout from the trees makes you jump. Fíli comes stomping through the leaves and pushing through the undergrowth. “Bombur’s got a stew going, and…” his words die on his tongue as he takes in the scene before him: Bilbo crouching nervously by your side while Balin gently rubs your back. “What’s going on?”

Balin stands. “I believe Y/N has something she needs to tell you.” He beckons for Bilbo to follow, patting Fíli on the arm as he passes. “Congratulations,” he whispers.

Fíli frowns. His little mustache braids sway as he looks between you and the retreating figures of Balin and Bilbo. “What was that?” He kneels and gently strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. Concern fills his blue gaze, the gaze that had ensnared you, stolen your heart back within the safety of Rivendell. “Are you alright?”

You sniff and clumsily wipe at your eyes with your sleeve. “I didn’t know how to tell you, but… I’m…” You trail off, the words sticking in your throat. Instead, you take Fíli’s hand from your face and slip it beneath your shirt to rest on your stomach. Slowly, you look up at him, willing your eyes to say what your lips cannot.

He stares at you blankly. But as his eyes flicker from your face to his hand under the cloth, you watch the realization slowly dawn on him. “Y/N…” he whispers in disbelief. “You’re…?”

You nod, bracing for anger, rejection, disappointment. Instead, you find yourself wrapped in his arms and lifted into the air as Fíli spins you around, laughing. He stops abruptly and sets you back on your feet, gripping your shoulders and holding you back at arm’s length. “You really are?”

The boyish excitement on your dwarf’s face brings a small smile to your lips. “I really am.”

He lets go of you and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to be a father,” he breathes. Suddenly, he pales. “It… it is mine, isn’t it?”

That finally coaxes a laugh from you. You step forward and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the hollow of his shoulder. “Of course,” you murmur. “No one else but you.”

“I love you, ghivashel,” he murmurs back, lips gently brushing your neck. You stay like that for what feels like hours, melting into each other.

“Fíli! Y/N!” A sharp call comes from the trees behind you.

Hastily, you push away from Fíli and clear your throat as his uncle pushes through the brush. Thorin jerks his head back toward the fire. “You two have first watch tonight,” he grunts. Seeing the two of you standing so close, he narrows his eyes and opens his mouth as if to continue, but shakes his head and starts back toward camp.

You take Fíli’s hand and intertwine your fingers as the pair of you follow the path of broken twigs left by Thorin’s heavy steps. Fíli starts to pull his hand away as you reach camp, and reluctantly you let go. The agreement still stands between you: no one finds out until the quest is fulfilled.

But with the secret now bearing literal fruit, you wonder how much longer it can last.

#fanfiction #thehobbit #reader insert #Fíli #fili x reader #fili x you #i’m sorry tolkien #middle earth #blood of durin #Kíli #thorin and company #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield

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queenofsarcazm · 2 years

Text

Smaug’s Daughter

Thranduil X OC/READER

Spicy, fix-it, dragon-shifter fanfic!

A daydream turns into reality for reader who finds herself mated to Thranduil in Middle Earth. Fic follows reader through the events that transpire in the Hobbit while she struggles to manage a relationship to a stubborn king while trying to save those who shouldn't have died in the hobbit! Plenty of NSFW and happy endings always!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36555799/chapters/91167853

Chapter 1:

I was trying to fall asleep and I’d tried all of the tricks without success. I’d opened the window so the room was cold even though I’d probably wake up with a cold. I’d tried breathing exercises: Breathing in for 5 seconds, then holding it for 5 and then breathing out for 5. I’d even counted backwards from 200 in spanish. And I was no closer to falling asleep than my dog, who was sleeping in my bed with me of course, was close to sitting up and talking to me.

Aaaa. I really ought to fall asleep soon so I would be able to get up early tomorrow and get started on my essay. It was due at midnight.

Well, there was that last thing I could do, although I shouldn’t… Considering I had recently been diagnosed with not only ADHD, but also maladaptive daydreaming disorder, my therapist had advised me to ease down on the daydreaming before sleep. But my phone revealed the time was nearing 2AM and I was getting desperate. Besides, my therapist had said to ease down, not immediately stop? Right? Right.

Okay: Snuggling into my multiple duvets I closed my eyes again to plan the daydream that I could fall asleep to. Since I had watched the first and second Hobbit movies before going to bed, that was where my mind went. More specifically, towards Thranduil. I had been obsessed with him for years now. I’d probably scrounged through all the fanfictions on AO3 involving him. But no fic ever managed to scratch that specific itch of what I needed from him. Not that the fics were poorly written, not at all - most authors on AO3 wrote better than published books I’d read, but what I wanted always felt like the missing piece in a puzzle, many other pieces were good, great even and I tried them all but I could never quite find the one who fit. And you know what they say: If you can’t find it, write it. Well, I couldn’t pull up my computer now, then I’d never fall asleep. Second best to writing was just imagining it in your head.

So to that, I couldn’t just barge into the Woodland Realm, couldn’t just go knocking on the door expecting to bang Thranduil without further ado. No, that wouldn’t be realistic. I had to have a reason. I had to create a persona. A backstory for myself in Middle-Earth. I had to be someone that he would fuck.

So who would I be? Elf had always been the obvious choice, but for this particular daydream I found it too mundane. I wanted to be something else. Someone more interesting.

I had recently gotten into reading a particularly smutty series about dragons-shifting-men. Dragons who had one true mate. Hmmm. Of course, Thranduil couldn’t be the dragon. I had to be the dragon. Me being a dragon would make for extremely intriguing drama considering Thranduil hated them so.

But I couldn’t just be any dragon, it had to make sense for the story. My mind immediately jumped to Smaug, but he wouldn’t exactly make the best fatherly figure. Hmm. Maybe he went mad when my mother died dramatically because they were mates? Speaking of which: maybe my mother was elven? Yes. I could be half dragon and half elven. Perfect. I could be raised by Beorn since he also was a skin-changer and that is also where I would meet Thorin & company. The fact that I was Smaug’s daughter would be problematic, but I’d get to that later. Obviously I’d go with Thorin & company into the forest. We would be taken by the elves and then I would get to meet Thranduil who would be my mate and so the moment he laid eyes on me he would be affected because I would go into heat. My pheromones would drive him crazy until he had to have me. And considering I was half dragon he would probably hate-fuck me into oblivion because he hates dragons. Yes. It was all coming together now… Through my intensive daydreaming planning I found myself increasingly more sleepy and horny by the second.

ZZZzzzZZZZZzz….zzzZZZZZzzz

I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I woke myself up the next morning by a loud snore - one that probably came from me - I huffed at no one in particular and snuggled deeper into my bed. Somehow, it didn’t feel as soft as the day before, but I was too drowsy to notice much.

There was a big bang, ripping me out of my slumber, making me fall out of my bed in shock. My butt hit the stone cold floor. Someone was trying to break in! Jumping to my feet I tried to make sense of my surroundings. I did not recognize anything. This was not my bedroom. Where the hell was I? The banging on the door continued. It sounded as if no small army was trying to break into the house I was currently in. My heart beat frantically as I tried to prepare for… I don’t even know what. Looking around the house gave little clue to where the fuck I was at. The house looked as if built for a giant. A giant in the 1500s or something: There was no electric light anywhere, no fridge, no radio, no nothing that came from the 21st century that I lived in. There were two cows with horns and a horse just chilling in the living room, but they didn’t seem to care much about the intruders. Was I in a barn? But then why was there a bed here and why had I been sleeping in it? I only managed to grab a broom before a set of tall doors opened, letting in a myriad of short people with long hair. They were all screaming and yelling as if the devil himself was chasing them.

I quickly understood why they were acting in such a way when a giant bear-wolf-like creature stuck its head through the doors and roared. I retreated until my back hit the wall, clutching the broom as if my life depended on it. There should be laws against this happening to someone who’d just woken up. It wasn’t until they managed to close the doors that I realized the short people were accompanied by a tall one. One that I would recognize anywhere. It was Gandalf. What the fuck?

They all drew a breath of relief when the doors were sufficiently closed and I hid demonstratively behind a bookshelf.

“What was that?” One of the little people yelled out. Dwarves I realized, not just any little people. And not just any Dwarves. Thorin Oakenshield’s dwarves. I was in the plot of the Hobbit. I was dreaming. I must be. Lucid dreaming! How exciting!

“That is our host-” Gandalf declared. His gruffy voice was just like in the movies. The dwarves looked stunned. Beorn, I remembered. So if this dream was going according to how I’d planned, then I was his adoptive daughter. I was half dragon, half elf. I lifted my hand to my ear. Pointy. Nice. Shit, I hoped my alarm wouldn’t ring until I’d get to meet Thranduil. “His name is Beorn.” Gandalf continued before pausing dramatically. “He is a skin-changer.” Skin-changer. Just like me. I wondered how I would change into a dragon. I looked down at my hands. They looked the same. My nails were a bit dirtier than I would like and I had some cuts and bruises, but both my hands had the right amount of fingers. I was wearing practical clothes, reminiscent of what Aragorn wore and my hair was flowing down my shoulders, big red and messy. Wait, red? I wasn’t exactly a redhead back in real life, and I couldn’t remember scripting it either… Alas, I had bigger worries.

“Sometimes, he is a huge black bear. Sometimes, he is a great, strong man.” Gandalf explained as he walked further into the house. When should I make my presence known? Some of the dwarves walked into the kitchen area, but Gandalf was approaching my hiding spot past the cows. “The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overly fond of dwarves.”

Outside the house, Beorn growled menacingly. “He’s leaving.” One of the dwarves with orange hair and beard said. Ori, if I were to guess. “Come away from there.” A dwarf with nicely braided gray hair hissed, pulling Ori away from the door. Probably Dori, one of his brothers. “It’s not natural. None of it! It’s obvious. He’s under some dark spell!’” He added. I swallowed. How the hell would I convince Thorin & Company to bring me along if they thought skin-changing was messed up? Not to mention that I didn’t know anything about fighting. I didn’t even know how to change.

“Don’t be a fool.” Gandalf scoffed. “He’s under no enchantment but his own.” I took a deep breath. Okay, maybe I could talk sense with Gandalf. The tall wizard took off his pointy hat. “All right, now, get some sleep, all of you. You’ll be safe here tonight.” He said, then he sighed. “I hope.” Only I could hear the last part. But they still hadn’t found me.

Knowing Beorn was staying guard out there so that the Orcs wouldn’t kill the dwarves in the middle of the night was at least a little comforting. I had no wish to meet Azog and his fugly offspring whose name I couldn’t remember.

The dwarves did what they do best. Eat and sleep. I stayed put, still debating how to handle the situation. Many hours of snoring passed, the sun was about to come up, and still I couldn’t make my mind up. But I should act soon, lest my phone wake me from my favorite universe. I’d already wasted enough time. As I took a careful step from behind the shelf I caught a glimpse of Bilbo who sat up and casually pulled out a ring, the ring. He beheld it as if it wasn’t the one fucking ring. I nearly gasped, but put a hand over my mouth just in time. I could hear it calling for me. Could feel the pull of it. Shit, that meant it would be able to brainwash me, right? Gods, I wanted no part in that. I turned so that I could sneak out through the window in order to put distance between the ring and myself. On the way there I promptly stumbled over one of the dwarves who lay sleeping. Bilbo hurriedly put the ring away as I tried to stay on my feet by grabbing anything and everything within reach. This of course only created a ruckus as I and all the things I’d tried to grab crashed to the floor onto the dwarf who was sleeping there. I’d only made contact with the dwarf’s body before he awoke with a start and turned us around quickly as lightning, putting an ax to my throat as if he’d been sleeping with it under his pillow. All the dwarves were waking up now, shouting and yelling, ready for a fight.

I couldn’t blame them. It would be impressive to not wake up due to all the commotion I’d stupidly created. I laid there, breathless as I stared into the shiny gray eyes of the one and only Thorin Oakenshield, while he had the ax to my throat, basically straddling me. And at the same time that I was silently freaking out about him, He was looking at me as if he’d seen a unicorn.

“An intruder!” A dwarf exclaimed before another shouted: “Who is it?” I couldn’t take my eyes away from Thorin, couldn’t even blink. He, in turn, didn’t take his eyes off of me either. Was it wrong of me to find the situation slightly arousing? The look Thorin was sending me was making heat pool in my lower stomach and I quite liked the whole ax to my throat thing. It was hot. I probably couldn’t throw him off if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. Though I was taller, he was heavier. But not uncomfortably heavy. Just the right amount of heavy.

“An elf.” Thorin said. His baritone voice reverberated delightfully through my body. There was outrage among the dwarves, but they didn’t sound as if they wanted to kill me. Maybe they just thought I was a spy of some sort? The doors opened once again then and the tallest man I had ever seen walked in, breathing heavily. Beorn presumably. In real life he was played by an incredibly hot actor. But in Middle Earth he looked more like a caveman. The dwarves scattered, understandably.

“Get off my daughter.” Beorn said. His voice was calm, but his whole aura gave off a no-nonsense type of vibe. There were several gasps among the dwarves. Thorin looked puzzled, but moved the ax away from my neck and got to his feet. He stretched out a hand towards me and I took it. He basically pulled my whole body off of the ground as if I weighed nothing. When I came to stand it was as if his body shrinked. No, it was just me who was taller. In real life I stood about 5’6 feet off the ground, but I had to be taller in this dream as his head was about the same height as my boobs. Realizing I was still holding onto his hand, I felt my cheeks grow warm and quickly let go. “Sorry.”

“It is I who should apologize.” Thorin said. He wasn’t as out of it as I, but he was definitely affected by me in some way.

“That’s alright.” I gave him a small smile before I turned to Beorn. “Breakfast? I bet everyone is super hungry and has lots to tell us.” I hoped it didn’t sound as conspicuous to their ears as it did to mine. I knew exactly what the dwarves were here for after all. Had seen it a million times.

“Very well.” Beorn replied. Confidently, as if I knew exactly where everything was in this house, I walked over to the dining area and started making the table as if this was all natural and I had lived here for 24 years. Beorn went to milk the cows and the dwarves started helping me plate, while the others packed up their stuff. When all the food was on the table and Beorn was done milking, everyone sat down. I found myself seated between Fili and Kili who looked at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. It was endearing. They were also extremely handsome up close. My fingers itched to touch their hair for some reason. Obviously I knew that would be considered strange and rude and held my hands to myself.

“So you are the one they call Oakenshield.” Beorn started, pouring milk from a giant container, that was probably half the size of Thorin, into huge wooden cups. I had found a couple cups, plates and cutlery that were smaller - indicating that someone smaller lived here: Me. “Tell me,” Beorn's eyes found me before he turned back to Thorin who was sitting with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Why is Azog the Definer hunting you?”

“You know of Azog?” Thorin was visibly shook, as I would say. Everyone was eating quietly, watching the conversation between my adoptive father and their king. But many looks were thrown my way, as if they could not avoid looking at me. I really ought to find a mirror to assess what I looked like. I hoped I wasn’t as hairy as Beorn. That would be difficult for Thranduil to swallow, I imagined.

“My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the North. The Defiler killed most of my family.” Again, most of the dwarves looked at me. I lifted my cup of milk, though I did not much like milk, just to have something to do with my hands. “But some he enslaved.” Beorn added. Poor Beorn. I, and everyone else, noticed the cuff still on his hands. Gods, had we never attempted to take it off? What an awful reminder it must be. “Not for work, you understand, but for sport.” The mouthful of milk I’d just drunk tasted sour in my mouth at what he said. What an awful motherfucker Azog was. I couldn’t wait for him to die. “Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him.” I visibly vinced. Was that how he and I had met? I hoped not.

“There are others like you?” Someone asked.

“Once there were many.” Beorn said. I could sense how sad that sentence made him.

“And now?” It was Bilbo who asked.

Beorn looked at me. I swallowed and managed the tiniest shake of my head. I didn’t want him to just blurt it out like this. There had to be a better way to explain it. I would never get to Mirkwood if they knew I was a dragon. And not just any dragon. The daughter of Smaug. That would not bode well.

Thankfully, Beorn was a good actor. “Now there is only one.” He replied sadly. I hoped no one had seen our little interaction. If they had, they didn’t mention it.

“You need to reach the mountain before the last day of autumn.” Beorn went on.

“Before Durin’s Day falls, yes.” Gandalf agreed. I couldn’t remember him saying that, but I knew what it meant. “You are running out of time.” I said, my voice steady.

“Which is why we must go through Mirkwood.” Gandalf said.

“A darkness lies upon that forest. Foul things creep beneath those trees.” Beorn replied. Shit, did that mean he would not let me go? “There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need.” My adoptive father added. I held my tongue. How would I convince them to let me join them? Any of them?

The dwarves bore crestfallen expressions on their bearded faces. “We will take the elven road. That path is still safe.” Gandalf seemed the only one with hope intact.

“Safe?” Beorn scoffed. “The Wood Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They’re less wise. And more dangerous.” He gave me a pointed look. I hadn’t fully planned out what kind of elf my mother was. But I’m guessing she was not from Mirkwood then. Or maybe she was? I ought to have a good long conversation with Beorn before leaving so I could get my story straight.

“But it matters not...” Beorn continued, moving his scrutinizing gaze from me to Thorin who’d gotten up from his seat. “These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive.” Beorn got up from his seat. He hadn’t blinked in ages. I wondered what I was supposed to call him. Not by his first name surely? Surely I called him dad? If this was my dream that I controlled I would call him dad. He’d raised me. It was what he was.

“I don’t like Dwarves.” Beorn said, getting up from his seat. Rising to his probably like 9 feet. I gasped. Not at his height but at what he was saying. “They’re greedy. And blind. Blind to the lives of those that they deem lesser than their own.” That was. That was really rude!

“Dad. You can’t just-” I interjected. Beorn was nearing Thorin, but stopped to pick up a mouse from the table as if to underline his point. He sighed and turned to me. “But Orcs I hate more.”

“What do you need?” He asked Thorin then and I visibly relaxed even though I knew he would help them.

While the dwarves started cleaning up after the meal I followed Beorn, my dad, out to ready the horses.

“You wish to join them.” He stated when we had made it to the stables, out of hearing reach. Could he read my mind? I opened my mouth to protest, but he was right. I did want to join them. I closed my mouth and nodded instead.

“What do you think they will say if they find out you are not only a Dragon, but Smaug’s daughter?” He asked. His voice was calm, but I could see the tension in his hands as he was sadling the ponies.

“I am your daughter.” I said.

A brief smile danced upon his lips. “That you are.” He put the saddle on another pony before he turned towards me again, lifting a hand to gently caress my cheek. “Arien, my beautiful daughter. Have you thought this through?” He asked. My heart skipped a beat. In real life I wasn’t particularly close with either of my parents, and the way Beorn was looking at me was making me want to cry and be held by him. If I did that, however, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever stop crying. I realized he’d called me Arien. In my planning, I hadn’t gotten as far as to pick a name, but Arien was a nice name. I hadn’t heard of it before, but it sounded elven. I generally had a pretty awful memory though, so she could be an important figure. How I was remembering the plot of the Hobbit so vividly detailed was baffling.

I swallowed and then cleared my voice so that it would not falter. “I wish to help.” I said, realizing just how true that was. It was more than just wanting to fuck Thranduil already. How could it not be? In this dream I might have the chance to prevent some deaths, hopefully many. I could do some good. For some reason I also had a feeling that if I showed up in my Dragon form, then Smaug would leave. I did not think he would harm his daughter. If I was able to stay asleep for that long. But time surely had to pass differently here than in real life. I’d had many dreams that had lasted for what seemed like long periods of time, but none of those had been like this; lucid.

Beorn nodded. He looked so forlorn that I couldn’t help but give him a hug. He was much taller than me, so when I put my arms around him he lifted me many feet up off the ground and hugged me tightly back. “I’ll be fine, dad. I’m a dragon! They couldn’t hurt me if they wanted to.” I told him assuringly as he put me back down.

“They might want to hurt you when they find out.”

#thranduil fanfiction #Thranduil #thranduil x oc #thranduil x reader #LOTR #lotr fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #The hobbit #modern girl in middle earth #hobbit fanfic #ao3

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birboon · 10 months

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ABOUT ME!

Hi, my name's Poppy and I write (or try to write) fanfiction! As a full-time student, I don't really have a lot of free time on my hands, so my writing schedule is kind of sporadic, but I really enjoy what I do :)

Here's a couple fun facts:

I'm British (so expect slang and a lot of swearing in my more mature fics)

I'm 20 years old

I play the guitar

I'm an amateur boxer and qualified SCUBA diver!

I'm in a BUNCH of fandoms - lotr, marvel, dc, harry potter, supernatural, hannibal just to name a few - and I'm always expanding that list because I just consume media like it's oxygen.

Right now, I have a bunch of on-going projects!

FIC MASTERLIST:

THE BLIND JUSTICE SERIES

This is an MCUxDC cross-over AU where I try to rewrite (basically) the entire marvel cinematic universe, combining it with characters from DC comics too! Because I love superheroes, and I need some of my favourite characters to meet (and shag) more than I need water (reminder to stay hydrated, folks!).

Currently, the series has 6 planned books in total - but only three of them are in the 'writing' stage, and of those three only 1 is my main priority (oops). Anyway, here's the run down:

1. CIRCUS BOY

Dick Grayson x Peter Parker

❝I fight psycho clowns, dude. I can handle a little crazy❞

When teenage heart-throb Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne and heir to the Wayne Fortune, meets high school hero Peter Parker out of pure happenstance, things don't quite go to plan. And as their awkward acquaintance begins to expand beyond that of chance meetings... well. Dick might just find out that his place in the food chain isn't quite as cemented as he'd once thought.

Dick Grayson x Peter Parker Spider-Man: Homecoming - ? [Marvel/DC crossover]

READ IT HERE!

2. ABRACADABRA

❝Unlike you, I actually know the magic words.❞

Zatanna Zatara was a magician. She worked with the impossible, performed the improbable, strayed from the realms of the natural world and worked it to her own whims. But what she couldn't perform were miracles.

Enter Stephen Strange from the stage left, coming to ruin her life one last time.

Zatanna Zatara x Stephen Strange Pre-Avengers: Infinity War - ? [Marvel/DC crossover]

3. NIGHT LIGHT

❝Call me a glowstick one more time and you can say goodbye to your other arm.❞

Kyle Rayner was a lost soul. No one would deny it - those that knew him most saw but a spark of the man, the hero, that he used to be. Coming back from the snap did a number on him, realizing the insignificance of everything he's done. Then, he met James Buchanan Barnes. A man just as lost as himself. Can he light the way for them both, or will they be stuck in the shadows forever?

Kyle Rayner x Bucky Barnes Falcon & The Winter Soldier - ? [Marvel/DC crossover]

NYMMRIL THE GOLD

This is my on-going Lord of the Rings fic! It follows Beorn's ward and fellow skin-changer, Nymmril: a young and jovial man who takes the form of a great lion! It's a Legolas x oc fic, with a dash of Fili x oc sprinkled in the first act. It's a mix of the Jackson films (extended editions ofc) and Tolkein's original works, for the fun and the lore!

I'm currently about half way through Act 1, which begins during The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug and follows all the way through to the end of the book. But as a whole, the fic will follow Nymmril's journey through the Fellowship of the Ring and beyond, all the way to Return of the King.

Nymmril, a young skin-changer from the far deserts, has been under the care of his Keeper Beorn for centuries. With the dragon present, it was deemed too dangerous for him to leave. But what happens when Gandalf and his company of mischievous dwarrow stumble into the Carrock asking for help? Only one thing is for certain: A lion's loyalty is a powerful weapon.

READ MORE ABOUT IT HERE!

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intyaleglorfindeliel · 2 years

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So, I got bored and decided to AI-generate Silm fanfic tags.

Here’s the prompt:

This is a list of tags authors have applied to stories about The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien on the fanfiction archive website Archive Of Our Own.

Tags: Maglor’s solid B+ parenting Idril wears shoes no beta we die like Glorfindel unauthorized use of Silmarils

The best 50(ish) results below the cut to save your dash.

Curufin is the friendliest elf on the planet Yavanna gives more than a bare eggplant Treebeard and Bilbo have an adventure Pippin is way cooler than Frodo Tolkien makes an elf of Túrin Eru is also an actual character and not some weird idk thing The Nazgul are really racist The Valar are still not allowed to read Tolkien's books Gil-galad is a kinky rebel Eärendil is actually a bunch of different people Istari take control of the council of elrond Durin is the main character and Glorfindel is his buddy The Silmarils are in a hot tub Saruman has a son and is really bad at being a father Maedhros is a viking Elrond is on fire Morgoth can't fight hobbits Maedhros is Gollum Bard the Bowman has a bunch of robots Gil-galad and Maedhros are now friends Mithrandir's boyz Saruman's dumb for thinking Sauron would let him go Thranduil goes into his beard cave to think The fight of Gil-galad and Celegorm is mostly a dance Maedhros and Eärendil ride off on some kind of dragon Alatar is a smooth talker Thorin is a high elf Gil-galad just uses Thorin to get the elves to do his dirty work There are many people wearing hobbit hats No sex, but really good fic Orodruin is a gift to the men of Middle-earth Faramir is tough but kind of a tool Lúthien is married to the Silmaril Glorfindel is a powerful wizard Istari do some weird shit Maedhros is crazy hot A Silmaril for the hobbits Feanor has a good day and does some amazing things Gandalf was in a band with Beorn Maedhros and Eärendil fight Glorfindel and a shadow monster Gil-galad has a beer with Thorin Mairon is just weirdly hot The elves of Tol Eressëa are all hot and have great senses Celegorm is actually a real human being and not a racist The Silmarils are in Rivendell Idril is a Dwarf woman who has a life Nerdanel has a bunch of D&D characters who are really into meth Elrond is good at stabbing people in the face Curufin is the lord of pottery Feanor Eärendil and Turgon are all dragons Dwarf women are really powerful Maedhros and his brothers are all the same person Thorin has a terrible but hilarious disease The Silmarils are the only thing that make the elves look bad Turgon was the leader of Nargothrond and was responsible for the dead dwarves Ecthelion is a fake name for Sauron

#this has been an update in the life of Lacey #tolkien #i guess?#my personal favorite is nerdanel's dnd characters but that's just me

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floral-and-fine · 3 years

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Beary Cold part 1

Beorn x Female reader

A/n: Thank you @luna-xial for the title, I couldn’t resist it’s too cute! This has been sitting in my drafts for months now, glad I’m finally posting it.

Summary: The reader finds shelter from the cold one winter’s night, becoming Beorn's housemate for the winter.

Beorn’s eyelids still felt quite heavy as he finally managed to wake himself up. The bear inside of him protested, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep and stay surrounded by the warmth of his bed until spring. But Beorn had responsibilities, his animals needed him, so what the bear wanted would have to wait.

Rolling over onto his back he stared at the ceiling for a moment, his eyes threatening to slip shut again, but the ponies and other livestock were creating quite a ruckus, one so loud he couldn’t possibly ignore.

With a loud groan, he forced himself to sit up, then rolled his shoulders back, and stretched his arms above his head. He raked a large hand over his face and through his hair trying to wake himself up. He braced himself, as he peeled back the covers already losing warmth both even getting out of bed.

Swinging his legs over the edge, he wrinkled his nose as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. With heavy steps, he slowly dragged himself towards the animals. Once he was done with his chores or at least finished with the feeding, he could return to bed and sleep undisturbed for the rest of the day and night.

As he shuffled over to the fireplace to add more wood, Beorn narrowed his eyes as he spotted something that wasn’t there yesterday.

What could’ve passed as a heap of laundry on the middle of the floor, was a woman. She was curled up by the fire, using her cloak as a blanket and her arms as a pillow.

While he wasn’t fond of the idea of an intruder making themselves comfortable in his home, she didn’t seem like she could do much harm, and he doubted she meant to cause any trouble.

He smiled to himself, as he moved closer and crouched down, now noticing the little mice and chipmunks that seemed to be sharing her warmth as they nestled beside her. In her sleep, she pulled her cloak tighter around her body.

Sighing, Beorn glanced out the window, all across his fields were deep blankets of snow. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he sent her back out there alone. Even if it wasn’t for the cold, he knew what danger lurked in the woods.

Wandering back to his bed, he grabbed one of his thick furs and returned to the woman. Carefully, as to not wake her, he placed the blanket over her.

Wandering into the kitchen, he gathered some bread and jarred fruit setting it out for his new housemate. …

You woke up, feeling warm and surprisingly refreshed considering you had slept on the floor. However, you would’ve froze to death last night if you hadn’t stumbled upon this small farm.

For the last few weeks, you had been traveling with a band of merchants heading towards Rivertown, things had been going well until a pack of orcs attacked the camp late last night.

They killed everyone, including the horses, you had barely managed to escape running as fast as you could into the darkness. The orcs didn’t bother chasing after you, figuring you’d die slowly alone in the cold.

Sitting up, you found that someone had placed a thick fur blanket over you. You ran your fingers over it, feeling how soft it was.

You chuckled, as a small chipmunk scurried up your arm and nuzzled against the crook of your neck distracting you from your thoughts.

“Good morning,” you murmured to your new friend as you gently scooped him into your hands. You scratched behind his ear a little with your index finger before setting him down.

You hadn’t noticed last night when you took refuge here, how large everything was from the giant chairs to the large chess pieces on the table. You were just so thankful for the shelter and the warm fire that nothing else seemed to matter.

Wrapping the fur blanket around your shoulders as you tiptoed through the house in search of your host. Stopping in front of what you assumed was the bedroom door, you softly knocked a few times and waited for a response. When there wasn’t one, you carefully pushed the door open peeking inside.

The room was dark, the window covered by thick drapes blocking out any light. Taking a few steps forward, you finally noticed the giant sprawled on top of his bed.

His hair was long and wild, and his features while handsome seemed to resemble something a little more feral.

You leaned over him, wondering if you should wake him in order to thank him properly, but he seemed to be in such a deep sleep that it seemed cruel to take that from him.

As you were about to return the fur blanket, the stranger snored so loud that you jumped back in fright. You laughed lightly, with your hand over your rapidly beating heart.

Shaking your head, you gently covered him with the fur and smiled. He shifted pulling it with him rolling over to his side. When he wakes later, you'll have your chance to show your gratitude.

Wandering back to the fireplace, you noticed the bread and fruit that had been placed nearby on the table. Taking a seat in a large wooden chair, you started snacking on the food.

As you ate, your chipmunk friend returned with a few mice tagging along. Tearing off a few chunks of bread, you scattered the pieces on the floor. You grinned watching as they stuffed their cheeks full.

You never encountered animals so comfortable around a stranger before, even the animals in the barn area were calm, accepting pets from you as you visited with them.

The hours went by slowly as you waited for your host to wake. You were eager to meet him, to find out who he was, and to thank him for his hospitality. But, as the sun started to set, he remained fast asleep. His occasional snores rumbled throughout the home reminding you of his presence.

You curled up in the chair by the fireplace, resting your head against the armrest. Your host showed no signs of waking and you doubted he would, seeing how it was night already.

“Perhaps, I’ll see him in the morning,” you muttered out loud to yourself.

At some point you must have dozed off, waking with a start as a heavy blanket was draped over you.

“Keep it,” a deep voice murmured above you.

Pulling it off your head, you watched as your host rummaged through his pantry, setting out food for you and gathering some to take with him.

“Thank you…” you trailed off, not knowing what to call him.

He turned back around to face you and raised his brow for a moment. “Beorn,” he answered.

Looking at his face, you could see how worn out he was, so instead of engaging in conversation, you smiled, snuggled into the blanket. “Thank you, Beorn,” you called out.

He nodded, yawning and he shuffled back to his room. “Good night, little lamb.”

#beorn fanfic #beorn the hobbit #beorn fanfiction #Beorn #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #Female reader #reader insert

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idontlikejazzsonowitsmyname · 2 years

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Ok so we all know the modern Tolkien fan gets isekaid into the Tolkien universe trope, and we all love it but, and hear me out on this, every single time its a fanfiction obsessed twig who knows no westorn bullys Gandalf and ends up dating fili.

Modern GUNSMITH Tolkien NERD gets isekaid into Tolkien universe, knows basic westorn without grammar and bullys Saruman because fuck saurman all my homies hate saruman.

Also just for shits and giggles they teach beorn how to make icecream because beorn deserves everything good and desired from all worlds.

Post movie they keep inviting Gloin and Thandruil to drink with them cause they know Legalos and Gimli needs the help, when they eventualy have to deal with the disaproving fathers in law.

Just saying the fact that none of these isekais try set up a lady and the tramp style date for bilbo and his oak tree is tragic.

I dont want a genuis future scientist to exist in middle earth i want a buff bitch with a gun to start blasting orcs.

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wrenandthemachine · 3 years

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Beorn, Franz, and Wren!

#destiny #destiny 2 #watm #wrenandthemachine #destiny fanfiction #wren #destiny fanart #beorn #franz #fireteam cerulean #watmart

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lathalea · 3 years

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Springtime at the Lonely Mountain, ch. 53

Summary: A story about young-and-not-yet-brooding (well, not much, at least) prince Thorin and his beloved dwarf maiden, Ása. It is set sometime before Smaug’s attack. Have you ever wondered what could have happened if Thorin met the love of his life before succumbing to the Dragon Sickness? Well, then you’re in the right place!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Original Female Character

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, baby bump cuteness, Thorin in love You can read the whole story on AO3 (link in my bio + masterlist). ---

Springtime at the Lonely Mountain, chapter 53 On Black Wings

The last wisps of a shapeless dream unhurriedly left Ása’s mind. She blinked and took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh smell of sun-dried bedlinen. First rays of morning sun seeped in through the window, filling the room with a soft glow. Having her mind set on burying herself deeper in the warm quilt and returning to sleep, she glanced to the side and encountered a pair of bright cerulean eyes meeting her gaze.

“Good morning, Yûsthelê,” Thorin murmured, placing a sloppy kiss on the cool skin of her uncovered shoulder.

“Morning, husband mine,” she gave him a shy smile and brushed her lips against the tip of his nose. Waking up with Thorin beside her still felt like a beautiful dream, and she savored every single moment of it.

“Have you slept well?” he murmured in that low voice of his she never had enough of.

She nodded in confirmation. A wave of tenderness swept over her as she noticed the warmth in his gaze.

“And… the babe?” he glanced down towards her belly that has been growing steadily during these past months. It was now covered with the quilt, shaped like a small mound, and Thorin’s hand moved towards it hastily only for his fingers to retreat suddenly.

“The babe slept well too,” she replied, searching his face. “Do you want to say good morning?”

Thorin’s eyes moved back to her, filled with some new, soft expression she has never seen before.

“Can I…?” the words were barely audible, hesitant.

These two words made Ása’s heart beat faster. Both of them were careful, so very careful these days, enjoying their reclaimed closeness, taking small, measured steps forward, carefully closing the chasm that had opened between them on that fateful day in Beorn’s barn. She pushed away the thoughts of the events that came after and focused on the dwarf who was reclining beside her. Thorin. Her husband. Her One. And yet, since they reunited, they were still finding their way back to each other. There were still some things that waited for them in future, waited for the right moment to happen. In a heartbeat, Ása realized that the right moment for one of those new shared experiences had come. She moved the quilt aside, took Thorin’s hand, and placed it gently on the roundness of her belly covered only by her nightgown. Thorin’s throat bobbed and his mouth opened slightly, an expression of utter astonishment on his face. She could feel how warm his hand was through the sheer fabric as he slowly caressed her baby bump, following its curve.

He moved over her belly and whispered, “Good morning, Musmasum.”

Something fluttered inside her and Ása swallowed, trying to chase away the sudden mawkishness that overcame her, her hand reaching out and delving into his hair, his dark, soft strands seeping through her fingers. That was when Thorin’s lips hovered over her belly and then kissed it lightly.

“She says ‘good morning, daddy’,” Ása whispered in a trembling voice, blinking away the tears of joy from her eyes. They were together, the three of them, she, her One, and that new, precious spark of life their love created. They were once again whole, and it felt right, and wonderful.

“She?” Thorin lifted his head and met her gaze, but his hand still rested on her roundness, and she wanted it to stay there for as long as possible. He cocked his brow and something sparkled in his eyes, “So it is not a boy...?”

“It is a daughter, I can feel it,” she admitted, echoing something that surfaced in her mind, a silver, elusive flicker of a wishful thought or perhaps hopeful premonition.

“A daughter...,” he repeated with a hint of surprise in his voice, but she understood that completely. The odds of bringing a girl into the world were not as high as she’d like to since dwarven families of Erebor and Iron Hills were usually blessed with sons. She could only hope her hunch would turn out true.

“Hello, daughter,” Thorin turned his attention to Ása’s belly with a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Do make sure that Amad rests a lot today. Adad will be away, hunting for meat, and when he returns, Amad will eat plenty for both of you!”

With these words, he pecked her roundness once again.

Ása giggled, with a warm lump of happiness in her heart, “I’m sure she will appreciate the eating part. We both will!” She pulled him towards her and their lips met in an affectionate kiss, sweet and zesty like wild blackberries, sending a tingling sensation throughout her body. Ása missed those kisses along the affectionate gestures they had previously shared, and now she reveled in their returned closeness, taking in all his intimate caresses as if she was a scorched land and his touch was a long-awaited rain.

“Thank you,” Thorin rested on his elbow beside her as their lips parted, clearly mindful of not pressing his body against her belly. She still felt the warmth of his lips, his beard brushing softly against her skin, the slight lightheadedness that came together with his proximity.

“For what?” Ása gave him an uncertain smile.

“For this…” Thorin waved his hand at her and their surroundings. “For being here, for enduring it all; for the babe…”

She chuckled, a blush appearing on her cheeks, “You will thank me when she comes to the world. Although then, I imagine we will both be too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.”

“When will this happen? How soon?” his impatient fingers played with her marriage braid, moving over the beads.

“Sometime in autumn next year. We have plenty of time to prepare,” Ása replied almost immediately. Keeping track of the months was easy; what worried her was the fact that her knowledge about pregnancy was limited and the joy of becoming a mother was often tainted with the fear of giving birth somewhere in the wilderness, without a midwife, not mentioning the insistent thoughts about what could go wrong before and after that event. She knew that Thorin as well as Bombur and his kin would help her as much as they could, drawing on their limited experience with newborn dwarflings, but childbirth wasn’t something any of them had first-hand experience with, including her.

“I will find a home for us, a safe place for the babe to grow,” Thorin assured her in a calming voice, as if he sensed her concerns, as if the time apart made them tuned even more to each other’s moods. “We can still make it to the dwarven settlements in Misty Mountains before the winter snows come.”

Ása sighed, “Beorn will be relieved to see us go.”

“He would have us stay with him throughout the winter. If not for the egg...” his voice trailed off.

“I know. I am prepared to leave. Master Bear offered to provide us with everything we would need, but I feel we have already trespassed on his hospitality,” she replied. It was difficult to think of leaving both their generous host she developed a great fondness for and the comforts of Beorn's home on the verge of winter, but Ása understood there was no other way. They couldn’t impose on him any longer, they brought too much unrest under his roof. She stole a worried glance at the chest that hid the dragon egg.

“Do not fret, my sweet, all will be well. We shall find a proper place for us and the babe,” Thorin’s voice reverberated in his chest as he kissed her forehead, and she caught herself wondering whether she spoke her recent thoughts aloud.

“We will live like the dwarves of old, settling in a secluded mountain cave, not leaving it until spring, burrowed in furs, listening to the howling wind outside,” she giggled, taking Thorin’s hand and intertwining her fingers with his.

“It is clear that you already have given it a thought or two,” he chuckled in amusement.

“Of course! I am going to bake nut and seed cakes every day and you will chop wood to keep the fire going. The cave has to be close to the river so there is always plenty of water and fish, and it has to be on a sunny slope, and…” she cast him a curious glance. “And you? What kind of a home would you like, Yâsûnê?”

His eyes rested on her, filling with sudden warmth, and then he enveloped her in a warm embrace, “I have everything I need in my arms. You are my home, Amrâlimê.”

***

After breakfast, Beorn disappeared somewhere on his regular forest business, while Thorin, Bofur and Bifur went hunting. The day passed quickly, filled with chores and preparations for the winter, and before dinner Ása found herself in Bombur’s kitchen. She was slicing the apples that came from the bear-man’s orchard, while her copper-bearded companion was busy preparing a stew. Her plan for the evening was to dry as many of the fruit slices as they could. Dried apples was one of the traditional treats eaten on Durin’s Day that was coming soon, and one of Ása’s favorite winter snacks.

“Have you seen Fang recently?” she asked her companion, munching on a piece of fruit.

“He is still gone, probably chasing after that raven,” Bombur chuckled, shaking his head. “What a rascal!”

“I just hope he will stay away from that bird’s beak! Have you seen how huge it was?” Ása took another apple from the bowl and started slicing it in even pieces.

“Aye, I’ve never seen a raven that big before. There are great falcons in Ered Luin, but ravens are a rare sight,” he stirred the contents of a large pot and added some seasoning, humming to himself.

“They are great hunters, aren’t they? Falcons, I mean. I think I remember my Grandmother telling me about how she hunted with them in her youth…” her voice trailed off while Ása’s knife worked its way through a large, red apple.

“This is something we still do in Ered Luin. One of my cousins is a falconer, by the way. And Bifur enjoys it greatly, or rather, enjoyed,” Bombur paused, clearing his throat. “He even had his own falcon. Brave. And what a clever girl she was.”

“He did? And what--”

Ása’s words were interrupted by a sudden commotion coming from outside. She exchanged a glance with Bombur, quickly approached the door, and opened it. With a gasp, she saw Bifur’s face contorted in a grimace in front of her eyes. He rested on his spear, filling her whole field of vision. Behind him, there were some stomping sounds, some shouts, and very familiar incessant barking.

“What is happening?” she frowned. “Is anyone wounded?”

Bifur grunted in clear displeasure and rolled his eyes, his unruly dark hair following the movement of his head like a dark cloud. He rested his spear against the wall and started gesticulating quickly. A pang of fear pierced Ása’s heart.

“Is Thorin well? I shall fetch some bandages…” she started, but the dwarf shook his head and started signing once again.

“Please, Bifur, you’re so fast, I can’t understand...” she pleaded, cursing her inability to decipher his iglishmêk quickly enough. “What? Everyone is well, except… Fang did what? What black menace?”

“He says that they found Fang in the forest on their way here,” she heard Bombur’s voice behind her. “And he has been in a fight.”

As if to confirm his words, a few loud barks filled the air.

“Hurry up, Thorin, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold this beast!” Bofur’s words followed.

As Bifur moved to the side, she finally saw the source of the commotion. Bofur was holding a piece of rope with all his strength, with Fang attached to it. The wolfdog, his fur dirty and tousled, kept on pulling the rope and barking at… Thorin. Or rather, at a large bird that perched on his outstretched arm.

Ignoring Fang’s outburst, Thorin quickly approached Beorn’s house, but, as opposed to Bifur, there was a wide smile on his face.

“Thorin, what is it?” Ása shot a puzzled glance at him.

“Ása, allow me to introduce Rarca, daughter of Carc,” Thorin pointed at the massive raven sitting on his forearm. Her eyes were drawn to an ornamented silver clasp around the bird’s ankle. The raven’s blue-black feathers glistened in the setting sun as Rarca tilted her head, opening and closing her beak once, and emitting a short croaking sound. Ása felt the bird’s scrutinizing gaze on her, her black beady eyes showing endless depths of intelligence.

“Isn’t it the same bird that Fang chased after the other day?” Bombur mused.

“It is. She is greeting you,” Thorin confirmed and turned to the raven. “Rarca, this is my wife, Ása.”

The bird clapped her beak twice.

“Welcome, Mistress Raven, it is an honor to meet you,” she spoke to the raven, wondering how much she understood. Judging by the way she looked, by her name, and by the runes on the silver clasp, she realized where Rarca must have come from. Ása heard various rumors about that noble breed of Ravens of Erebor, she saw them on several occasions, but she never had a chance to interact with any of them directly. Urged by Thorin, they entered the kitchen and closed the door behind them, Fang’s angry barking ringing in their ears.

Bifur groaned and pointed at his ears.

“Let’s hope Fang calms down now,” Bombur said. “Mistress Rarca here was too great of an opponent to our wolfdog, I gather?”

“We were lucky enough to separate them in time,” Thorin walked towards the table. “But Fang’s ear bears the mark of their battle.”

“Oh, no!” Ása exclaimed. “Is it a deep wound?”

“Nothing Bofur can not take care of. He will be as right as rain soon.”

“And probably begging for meat scraps on account of his injured pride!” Bombur chuckled.

Thorin stretched out his arm and allowed the proud raven to gracefully jump onto the kitchen table with a flutter of her wings. Ása noticed that the bird missed one or two feathers from her tail. So Fang wasn’t the only one who suffered losses. She only hoped that Rarca would still be able to fly without any problems.

Quickly she moved the cutting board and a few kitchen utensils aside, making space on the table for their guest. The massive bird turned her head and blinked a few times curiously at Ása, and then Rarca’s eye set on the sliced apples in a bowl.

“Please, help yourself, Mistress Rarca,” Ása offered, pushing the bowl towards her.

“My thanks,” the raven croaked in return, made a small nod, and caught a piece of apple with her beak. So it was true, the Ravens of Erebor could indeed speak! And then it finally hit her. A Raven of Erebor. Here, in Beorn’s house. Her stomach churned. Somehow the sweet smell of apples made her nauseous.

Her widened eyes met Thorin’s as he approached her, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. A frown deepened on his forehead. “Rarca brings news from Erebor.”

“News...?” she swallowed, trying to calm herself down.

“From Dwalin,” Thorin lowered his voice, looking down at their joined hands. “There has been a coup in Erebor. My Father took over the throne.”

“By Mahal…” Bombur’s hand flew to his mouth.

Rarca cawed in confirmation, “King Thrór was imprisoned,” she turned the side of her head up, towards Thorin. “We, the Ravens of Erebor, do not approve. He is the rightful ruler. This is not the way of things. It is not his son’s time yet.”

“What more can you tell me?” Ása heard solemn notes in Thorin’s voice. Perhaps he lost his title as the heir to the throne, but she clearly saw his concern not only for his grandfather, but for his homeland as well. This was the Prince of Erebor speaking.

“It happened at night. Warriors came. Not Mahal’s Hammer, others. The Raven Masters were agitated. Told us the news. The gates to Erebor were shut. Master Dwalin came to Ravenhill. I agreed to search for you, Prince. I am here now,” Rarca spoke in a raspy voice and added after a pause, shooting a glance towards the closed door, her feathers fluttering, “I do not like the dog.”

“We will keep him away from you, Rarca,” Thorin promised, and then his voice softened. “Were there any wounded? Is my family... well?”

“I do not know. I was not told,” the raven shook her head in a surprisingly dwarflike manner and reached for another slice of apple.

Thorin’s throat bobbed visibly. His worry was almost palpable. Ása’s heart clenched and it was now her turn to give him a reassuring squeeze with her hand. The thought of any harm coming to Lady Sigrun, little Dís or even Lady Barba and her husband, strong supporters of King Thrór, made her tremble. But now it was not the time to worry; she had to be strong.

“I see,” Thorin nodded, his voice devoid of emotion, his real feelings hidden behind a mask of indifference. “What more did Dwalin say?”

“Nothing. I will lead you to him. He wants to meet. Urgently.” Rarca cawed and attacked another slice of fruit with gusto.

***

“May I ask something, Mistress Rarca?” Ása approached the raven perched on Coal’s saddle. Thorin’s pony whinnied and she patted his nose affectionately. For the third, or maybe fourth time this morning her fingers ran over the leather straps, checking whether the saddlebags were properly attached, whether the stirrups were even, and then, whether the saddlecloth was not wrinkled. She hated the thought of having to say her farewells to Thorin so soon after he returned; so soon after their closeness bloomed again. She tried to ignore the worry that filled her heart when she imagined him riding off into the wilderness once more, even though it meant him seeing Dwalin again, and hearing news from Erebor. There were wild animals, dangerous creatures, perhaps even orcs lurking in the darkness. Somehow, it didn’t matter that Thorin was a skilled warrior, that Beorn would be accompanying him. They would be apart again, and she worried, and no amount of Thorin’s embraces or reassurances he had whispered into her ear in the night would stop those thoughts.

The raven croaked at her and spoke, tilting her head, “You may ask, Lady Ása.”

“How… how did you find Thorin?” she whispered, suddenly intimidated by the large bird’s inquisitive stare.

“Raven Magic. He is of the line of Durin. I am the daughter of Carc. We find the way. Even if the trail is hidden.”

Ása heard and read too many old stories and legends not to recognize what Rarca was speaking of. The ancient blood magic that somehow bound the Ravens of Erebor and the heirs of Durin through ages. She heard of a similar bond between the rulers of the Iron Hills and their war boars.

“Are you saying that Thorin’s trail was difficult to find?” her fingers played with the pony’s mane, but her attention was focused on the raven in front of her.

“Difficult,” Rarca agreed, jumping closer towards Ása across the saddle. “It took time. There is another magic around. Keeps things hidden. But I was fortunate. The more descendants of Durin in one place, the easier to find them.”

“How do you…” Ása frowned. Something fluttered in her lower belly and she gasped. “You mean… you felt my child?”

“Child…” Rarca opened her beak and closed it with a clack. “The magic is strong, but the pull of the line of Durin is stronger.”

Ása’s hand wandered to her belly, and she felt the warmth inside her. But a sudden realization filled her mind. The line of Durin. With all the recent events happening, she never gave it a thought. Her child is a descendant of the Kings of Erebor. Kings of the Longbeards. A potential heir to the throne. A potential danger to the enemies of Erebor. To…

“There you are, my sweet,” Thorin’s velvety voice reached her ears. She turned back and saw him leaving Beorn’s house, his sheathed sword in his hand, with Beorn following him. Ása swallowed as her heart clenched. It was time for them to leave.

“Thorin!” she hurried towards him and soon his strong arms were around her, and her palm cupped his bearded cheek, the scabbard of his sword pressing against her back. “Take care. Be safe, Mizim.”

His brilliant blue eyes roamed her face and he pressed his forehead against hers. “Rarca is convinced that it should not take longer than two weeks. I will return before you begin to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” she whispered, clinging to him even closer, breathing in the scent of pines, tobacco smoke, and sage soap. So uniquely his.

“I will miss you too. Both of you,” one of his arms moved and his hand slid over the side of the small bump of her belly, radiating impossible warmth that spilled throughout her body. Her Thorin. The father of their child. Her One.

“Return to us swiftly,” she mumbled, and she wanted to add something more, to say how much she loved him, how happy she was to be with him, to carry their unborn babe, but before she could say anything, their lips met in a tender kiss. Thorin’s lips brushed against hers, a feather-like caress, his beard softly brushed against her skin, while his thumb slowly traced circles on her belly, and something inside her fluttered again.

“Let us not waste daylight,” Beorn’s words reached her from afar.

This is when she pressed her lips against Thorin’s one more time, and he responded in turn, drinking from her like a parched traveler in the middle of the desert.

“May Mahal watch over you, Yasithê,” his low murmur seeped into her ear, and then, in a blink of an eye, his lips retreated, his arms moved away, taking his warmth with him. She shuddered, feeling the cold gusts of wind, and wrapped her shawl tightly around her. The winter was almost upon the land.

--- The Tiny Khuzdul Dictionary:

Yûsthelê - my spouse of all spouses Musmasum - tiny jewel Yâsûnê - my husband Yasithê - my wife Amrâlimê - my love Amad - mother Adad - father Iglishmêk – the dwarven sign language Read it? Like it? Reblog it!

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