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theblogofdurin · 2 years

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Never pointless || one-shot

word count: 2.1k

warning(s): kissing, confessions, pining, self-pity, insecure!dwalin let's just pretend Gandalf is with the company at this time.

Dwalin x fem!Ranger Reader

That first night at Bag-End was full of surprises, not just for you but for the rest of the company as well. When Gandalf first mentions bringing his Ranger friend along to add to their company. The Dwarves were excited and intrigued at the prospect, yet later when the hobbit’s door bell rang and you walked in...Let’s just say that saying they were shocked would be an understatement.

However, It’s fine because just like with Bilbo, Gandalf somehow manages to convince Thorin to let you join. The first couple of days of the road proved just like you thought it would. The dwarves watched every step you took, always making sure that one of them was nearby to guard or something.

You weren’t even sure they were doing it on purpose at first, till one morning you watched Bofur, who was currently riding next to you, nod at Kili before they switched places.

It was easy to become frustrated at the Dwarves being overbearing, yet it was also easy for you to understand. Being one of the few Dunedain women left, this wasn’t the first time different races of the male gender have tried to condle you.

After leaving Rivendell, and it took you a few days to realize that almost all the dwarves stopped their protective attics, well except for one…Dwalin

You didn't notice it at first for he had hardly said a word to you or looked at you the entire journey. Or so you thought.

What you didn't know was that Dwalin could hardly keep his eyes off of you. From the very moment you stood up for yourself to Thorin at Bag-End, he was beard over boots for ya.

And the rest of the company knows that he is and that they don't let him forget it either. Whispering snide comments here and there at him behind your back. To watch Dwalin’s face turning a shade of bright red from a range of emotions.

Despite being so madly in love with you, he knew that he could never act on his feelings for many reasons. Many being insecurities that he wouldn’t care to admit out loud. But one of those reasons was that you were a human with a shorter lifespan than his. Even with the age difference between you two being well over 100 years, as far as Dwalin knew, you would still die before him and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Scratch that, He wouldn’t handle it well at all and he promised to himself that he wouldn’t put himself in that situation.

In fact the thought of you getting hurt at all is why he was still watching out for you. Even though you already proved to the others and him that you could take care of yourself.

He was still worried about you and he just had to make sure that you were okay throughout the day and sometimes he would even check on you through his night watches to make sure you were staying warm.

This has been going the entire journey so far, it's just recently as the others let off that it has increased. Him doing the most absolute smallest of things to not bring attention to himself. Such as sticking a warm rock from near the campfire near your feet at night when he thought you were too cold. Or purposely whispering to Bombur one night to give you parts of his share cause you started to show some of your weight-loss from all the walking. Or sharpening all your weapons during his watches so you didn’t have too.

It was just his luck that you had started to pick up on it.

At first you thought it was just your imagination but you quickly pieced it together when you noticed your sword was sharper than when you went to bed. Dwalin was the only one in the company, besides Thorin, who had a whetstone big enough to get this kind of edge on your blade and while you would be flattered if the King Under the Mountain took the time to sharpen it for you during the night. It seemed unlikely considering..he didn’t have watch that night.

The watch order had been Nori, You, then Dwalin, and Balin.

Sitting cross legged by the fire, you had long given up watching the stars to keep you awake. Twisting your sword around you stared as you squinted down the length of the blade, the edges already showing signs of going dull.

If only you hadn’t forgotten your sharpening stone in Rivendell.

Sighing deeply, you hadn’t noticed when Dwalin came to relieve you. Sitting gently on the log next to you before grunting.

“Go get some sleep.”

Nodding you didn’t fight him as resheathed your sword and headed back to your bedroll. Setting your sword down next to you and almost immediately drifting off.

When you awoke in the morning you noticed that the sword was on the other side of your bedroll. Automatically unsheathing it to get a better look at it, you noticed it looked shinier than last night and on closer expectation you noticed it had been sharpened. Raising an eyebrow in question to yourself, your brain immediately went to Dwalin.

Immediately looking up for the dwarf, you noticed that he sat on the log by the fire with his back facing you. Smiling to yourself, you just know that the burly dwarf did this.

You had been slow in realizing your feelings for the old dwarrow. You had truly only started noticing him more and more since leaving Rivendell.

The younger dwarfs keep you distracted and entertained during the first part of the long journey. It was more when they started to leave you to your thoughts more often, that you started watching the big dwarf move around the camp.

From the way his forearms flexed when he carried in the firewood for the night. The veins that ran from down them and under the metal gauntlets on his hands. But it wasn’t actually till you watched him complement Ori handwriting. Wait! Or maybe it was when he was quick to offer to take Bofur’s night watch after the poor fella almost took a nasty fall from heat exhaustion. Either way, after seeing Dwalin from a different perspective, it starts to become harder to deny your feelings.

Now especially as you looked down at the sword in your hands with a deep blush.

"Good." A loud voice pulled you from your thoughts, looking up you saw Thorin nod at both Bombur and Balin. Looking over the awake company members before snapping his fingers at Fili, Nori, and Kili. "We reach the mountain pass in 2 days. We'll need to replenish some of our strength if we want to make it."

"Hunting party?" Kili eyebrows shot up excitedly, as he turned to shoved an elbow in Fili's side. Almost giddy, the two brothers bounced out of their bedrolls and were already grabbing their weapons.

Rolling his eyes, Thorin nodded and gestured to Nori. "I'll keep my eyes on them." Nori nodded, sighing as he got up and stretched, following the two after he slugged his weapon over his shoulder.

Sheathing your sword back, you left it on top of your bedroll as you moved to sit on one of the rocks that sat next to the fire…the one next to the Dwalin.

Across the fire without the notice of either of you two. Gandalf and Balin shared a knowing look before Gandalf cleared his throat softly as he puffed on his pipe. Ori snapped to attention, immediately, looking up from his book over at the wizard.

"Forgive me, Mistress?" Ori glanced at you. You and Dwalin both jumped slightly.

"Yes, Ori?" You smiled kindly at the young dwarf. You always had a soft spot for the little scribe.

"As the Company's scribe.." he stuttered slightly, "I am required to write about everyone in said company" He smiles sheepishly "Is it possible for me to ask you a few questions?"

"Of course." You answered immediately with a nod. Relaxing slightly. He nodded, before turning a page in his journal.

"How old are you?" You paused..what a strange question, hesitantly you replied. "53."

Speaking of age wasn’t something that really bothered you and technically you were still 'in your prime' for a Ranger, not even middle-aged.

"You're one of the Dúnedain."- Thorin spoke, almost extremely shocked. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in question. That tone was not meant for him.

"Most Rangers are." You answered with slow nods.

"Who are the Dúnedain again?" Bofur asked from the other side of the camp, seeming the most genuine.

"Great people of the west, Master Dwarf. " Gandalf smiled gently at him. "-descendants of the noble númennóreans. "

"Long ago, the Valar blessed them with an extended lifespan." Balin intertwined."I thought you had all died out." He looked over at you with an affectionate twinkle in his eye.

"There's not many of us left-" You smiled softly, when you were suddenly interrupted by Dwalin standing up abruptly.

"Dwalin?" You asked confused. He didn't look at you, he just gave a growl at Balin, who just smiled before he just marched off towards the opening in the treeline..

"It's okay lass, he's just-" Balin tried to reassure but you were already gone, following up after his brother. Balin threw his hands up. " Well. It's about time. " he chuckled as everyone else laughed, agreeing with small nods.

"Dwalin?" You called out. Making your way through the thick bush. You really didn't know where to go after a few feet into it. Turning around to look to the side a voice spoke behind you.

"Y/n?"

"Ah!" You jumped spinning rapidly to see a chucking Dwalin as he had both hands raised in surprise. "Sorry lass. I didn't mean to scare ya."

"Why did you run off?" You panted slightly lightly as you finally got your heart calmed enough. "Everything okay?:

"Yeah. " he looked down "…it's just." He paused, shaking his head before looking back up.

"Just?" You pushed slightly, taking a small step closer to him.

"It's nothing-." He reassured me, as he automatically took a step closer to you. With a small gesture, he pointed to the camp "-we should get back."

"No, clearly it's not okay" You stopped him "You have a right to say how you feel-"

"I like you. " He breathed, eyes wide "-a lot. Hell, Mahal I might even love ya at this point. And I know it's pointless because you could do so much better than me. "

His hand rubbed down his face, as he pulled on his beard. "I have listed every reason not to allow myself to think of you this way. But every time I tried not to like you like…you make me fall even harder."

You blinked as your face fell into a soft expression. Dwalin eyebrows pinched together insecurely as he looked over at you. Shaking his head as he looked back down, "it's okay if you don't love me bac-"

That's when you kissed him.

Gently at first, you were just as nervous as him as you raised one of your hands to lightly rest on the edge of his jaw. Lifting his face up slightly to press the locking kiss onto his rough lips.

Dwalin was frozen. Barely moving as he realized what was happening. You were kissing him? This couldn’t be real. Oh, but it was and he couldn't help himself but to melt into your sweet kiss.

His hands moved from his sides to rest lightly on the top of your hips, traveling around to your lower back as he pulled you closer to him. Pulling a sigh from your lips, your other hand coming up to rest on the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair and pressing your body impossibly closer into his.

Pulling back breathlessly, his eyes were barely open as he gasped an almost painfully shy -"you don't have to kiss me just because I-"

You kissed him again, hands on either of his cheeks as you tried to convey all your bubbled-up emotions. His hands pulled you in impossibly closer, as you your face pulled back slightly, " I love you too you dumb dwarf.'

Pulling away fully, you opened your eyes to see the soft 'o' expression as his eyes opened to meet yours.

"Being with you-" you spoke each word softly, voice slightly hoarse "..would never be pointless." Your heart beating hopelessly in your chest as you stated each word carefully, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheeks, as your other hand rested againat the side of his neck. Hoping to squash any doubt he might have. "I only wished you would see yourself as I do."

Pressing his forehead against yours, you felt him smile with a slightly shy tilt that caused you to giggle.

#the hobbit #dwalin imagine #dwalin/reader #dwalin the hobbit #dwalin x reader #dwalin #Dúnedain #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fic #graham mctavish #thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader #thorins company #the lord of the rings #hobbit fanfiction #hobbit #my works #my writings

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irisseireth · 2 years

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About the Dúnedain and the Downfall, and its long-lasting psychological effect:

It is stated on RotK that Faramir often dreams with the Downfall of Númenor, with the big wave coming and sinking the island. The widely accepted theory, and a conclusion I also reached, is that this is due to a combination of the Dúnedain possesing psychic abilities (generally described as having visions of the future), and strong trauma that manifests as a sort of epigenetic PTSD. I want to propose another factor into this:

By the point Frodo and Sam meet him in The Two Towers, Faramir has been living in Ithilien, in Mordor's shadow, for quite some time. This is also stated as one of the motives why he is taken so gravely ill during RotK, combined with stress and concern about his father's mental state. I suggest that somehow, being in proximity to Sauron, and sorf of under his influence, may have contributed to triggering these dreams. Sort of Sauron saying "look what I did to your people the last time", as a reminder that he can still very much destroy them.

#tolkien #meta #faramir #dúnedain #the dúnedain are my main blorbos and I'm glad they are getting more attention with the show

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bretwalda-lamnguin · 7 months

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I love the idea of Dúnedain after the fall of Númenor having visions of it. I really like the the thought that certain individuals from before and after the Downfall become linked to one another, but not in a useful way. It's clearer to the later one, to the earlier it's just vague prophecies or images. But they cannot exchange about anything useful, and more often than not the experiences are painful or traumatic to both.

#númenorians #dúnedain #just eldritch dúnedain things #maybe aragorn is linked to amandil #denethor to tar-palantir #faramir to tar-miriel #but no good can come of it #neither can save the other

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laurelinarien · 1 year

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Laurelberry of the Stoors was born ready for an adventure! Hailing from Glyn Helyg, she had recently arrived to the village of Mossward when a tall dark (and handsome) stranger made her acquaintance.

A Ranger, they said, of the Dúnedain of the North. Meneldir was his namesake and soon he took the young hobbit-lass under his wing. By his side, she’d hone her skills in battle, learning from the experienced Ranger how to improve in tracking, sneaking and burglarizing in the Swanfleet area.

It was after crossing the Greyflood that she earned her own Dúnedain Star, a symbol she proudly wears on her shoulder ever since and marks her readiness to face old Cardolan. Two other companions joined them at that point, however briefly. And by the time she finished helping the people of Herne, she found a letter and an unexpected gift: a new dagger, sporting the style of the Rohirrim.

#lotro #lotrocosmetics #dúnedain #cardolan #swanfleet #meneldir #hobbit

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starks-hero · 1 year

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Avert Your Eyes from Your Demise, Though Lovely It May Be

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x human!Reader

Summary: In which giant spiders aren't the only threat Mirkwood has to offer.

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: they're high on Mirkwood mist the whole time. Do with that what you will.

Translations: Siúlóirí portaigh - bog walkers (Irish) , amrâlimê - my love (Khuzdul) , lansel - love of all loves (Khuzdul)

a/n: I know movie Thorin is described as 5'2ish but I write him as 4'8 - 4'10 because it's more book accurate and because we should embrace this short king. Anyway, I call this 'the intimacy of going insane with your crush.'

You couldn't shake the unease. Even now, as you sat at the edge of a clearance, bark biting harshly into your back, you could almost feel the forest closing in on you. Shadows scurried above you and the air itself was stale.

Your company of fifteen had quickly fallen to a number of just two, with only yourself and Thorin making it through the mist-clouded trails together. Neither of you were certain what had become of the others and given the eeriness of your surroundings, you didn't want to give it too much thought.

A sudden gust of wind rushed through the clearing and the limbs of the trees creaked inward. It was as if the forest was breathing.

“We have to find the others,” you said. Your voice sounded foreign and far off.

Thorin was pacing in front of you, twisting the hilt of his sword in his hand. “They would know well enough not to linger in these woods. We keep heading East.”

“Which way is East?”

“We follow the river.” You didn't miss the beat of uncertainty before Thorin's answer.

You shook your head. “We don't know where it leads.”

“It will lead us away from here which is good enough.”

Almost to emphasize Thorin's point, the surrounding trees creaked and groaned and another shadow scurried overhead. Caution steered your hand to the hilt of your sword and following Thorin's order, you moved on swiftly.

The forest felt too small and too large all at once. Branches knabbed and tore at your clothes and skin, the twisted limbs of rotting trees giving you no option but to duck or crawl beneath their roots. A glance skyward reminded you that this place, in all its foulness, was unending, the tree canopy stretching miles above your head and blackening out the sun's light.

That was if the sun was still up. You'd lost track of the time what seemed like hours ago.

You came to a sudden, harsh stop as your front rather unceremoniously met Thorin's back. With a quiet grunt, you found the reason for stopping was a tangled thicket of twisted branches that now stood before you. The tree, in all its obscure glory, seemed to consume the path entirely, its limbs too thick to cut and trunk too tall to climb. Too tired to think of a solution, you found yourself uncharacteristically willing to give up. Until Thorin shrugged off his furs.

You watched as the grey fabric rolled off his broadened shoulders and revealed his shirt, knotted pattern running up the arms.

“I'll go first,” he took the liberty of explaining as he bunched the furs together and placed them in his pack. “It will be easier for me to get out should I need to.”

You would have liked to argue but Thorin, a regularly stubborn fool, was surprisingly right. He was shorter, his limbs less likely to snag. His dwarven frame would move through the thicket much easier than your own.

He disappeared into the grove, swallowed by bark and darkness and you already found yourself questioning why you let him go alone.

You kicked at the dirt beneath your feet as you waited. Eyes set on the trees, you felt increasingly uneasy. You picked at the leather of your sword sheath. Thorin was a capable warrior and you didn't doubt his ability to defend himself. But something wasn't right, you could feel it, crawling on your skin and putting your hairs on end.

Giving in to impulsiveness, you followed after Thorin.

The branches clawed at your skin and snagged your clothes. You pushed aside what you could, rotting wood giving way easily beneath your palm, but as the many limbs began to swell into trunks, it became increasingly difficult to move. Your chest was pressed uncomfortably against the rough bark. You were never one to fear tight spaces but the sudden inability to take a deep breath came as an unwelcome shock. Just as panic had you reaching for your sword, relief found you in the form of the dwarrow prince.

With renewed determination, you mustered a final push and freed yourself from where you were wedged.

Thorin stood with his back to you, stance stiff. You called his name and he hushed you quickly.

His eyes were set on the tree line ahead of you. His gaze was hard, analytic and you didn't fail to notice how his fingers grazed the hilt of his weapon. He turned to you.

“Do you not hear it?”

“Hear what?”

As if the bugle of battle had been sounded, Thorin's stance shifted and in one swift, fluid movement, he drew his sword. His free hand guided you further behind him. Then, he shot forward, swinging his sword at an invisible target. His expression was one of determination as well as unmistakable fear. Another aimless swing and he turned to you.

“Can you not see it?!” He barked, frustrated at your unwillingness to help.

You raised your head and all but willed yourself to see anything but the winding trails of the forest. But despite how hard you employed your imagination, you saw nothing. Somewhere in the treeline, a bird took flight.

An uncomfortable recollection settled in the forefront of your mind. A shiver ran up your back.

"Thorin," Your hand cautiously fell against his shoulder. He turned to you with fire in his eyes but your expression made him pause. “Gandalf said a dark magic lay over this forest.”

At your words, his defensive stance melted away and defeat took its place. The elvish blade fell from where it was held at his side as he looked around and the fear in his eyes slowly shifted to confusion, then realisation.

“It's toying with our minds?”

You swallowed. The thought made your skin crawl; the idea of the forest as its own conscious entity was a horrifying one. That its magic could sink its claws into your mind and deprive you of your senses, keeping you walking in circles till your feet gave in. The entirety of Mirkwood was one giant spider's web and you hated to think what that made you and Thorin.

“We just need to keep our wits about us and our feet moving forward,” you managed eventually, casting weary glances towards the trees. "Now that we know what's happening we have the upper hand, we stay together, stay vigilant and keep our minds clear."

Thorin felt the sudden need to commend you for your calm demeanor and sudden leadership. But he'd also just attempted to fight a non-existent enemy so he decided saying anything at all was against his better judgment and settled for a curt nod instead.

Your plan fell apart comedically fast. You tried to remain optimistic but as you passed the same tree stump for what must have been the fourth time, you felt as though the forest was laughing at you. Your feet ached as though they'd been walking for days. You could hear each of your breaths echo as they came and the thud of your boots against the earth shook your bones.

The child-like laughter had started not short of an hour ago. Thorin couldn't seem to hear it.

When the rough terrain of rock and dirt softened into the cold, squelching mud of a bog, you both silently agreed that a break was needed. You sat at the end of the wetland, where the moss and reeds sprouted up between damp rocks. The water was gloomy, tinged grey and dark green with a sinister mist resting upon its surface.

The dreariness of the place seemed to seep into your bones.

Thorin sat an arm's length from you, hands braced against his knees as he looked out over the bog with a sullen stare.

“What do you see?” You asked.

“Fire." He said no more and you didn't pry.

In an attempt to ease the aches that had set deep in each of your muscles, you pulled your water canteen from where it hung against your pack. A cool drink of fresh water would be a small but welcome relief that you wouldn't take for granted.

But the liquid was thick and warm as it touched your lips and when you pulled it away it was coloured red. You tossed the canteen away with a grunt of disgust. It unceremoniously met the surface of the water before sinking into the mud.

“We need to leave this place,” you said, hands threading through your hair and pulling at the roots. Thorin didn't argue.

You walked until you felt the leather of your boots threatening to give way. You thought one of the trees you had passed seemed familiar, distinctive enough from the rest of the foliage that it stood out.

“We've been here before,” you said. “We're going round in circles.” You turned to on your heel and found no sign of the dwarf.

“Thorin?”

The eerie silence of the forest echoed back to you.

“Thorin?!”

The feeling of unease returned tenfolds. Shadows crawled above you and the wind quivered through the trees. The mist had worsened, hiding your feet beneath its thickening grey clouds.

But then, like a lifeline being tossed to a drowned sailor at sea, you heard your name. Far off and faint, but your name all the same. Spoken in a voice that flooded you with relief. Calling after him, you followed the resonating sound of his calls until they led you to the point where the water met the soil.

Logic quickly took a back seat as your desperation to find Thorin had you stepping off the path. You sunk immediately, the bog swallowing you up to your knees. You pushed through the thick, sluggish mud, ignoring the burn it caused in the back of your legs. The voice became clearer until his form finally appeared, carved out from the mist.

"Thorin," you greeted him with a smile. But Thorin's expression did not mirror your own. His brows were drawn together and every ounce of air vanished from your lungs when an unsteady hand reached out to cup your cheek.

“I was so worried." Your name fell brokenly from his lips. "I feared I'd lost you.” His hands, shaking and trembling, ran down your arms then back to the swell of your shoulders. His breathing was labored and you could only imagine what Thorin must have witnessed to put the usually stoic king in such a state.

“You're alright? You're not harmed?"

You shook your head and gently grasped Thorin's wrists and he smiled, softer and more sincere than you had ever seen him. The sight made you feel at ease for the first time since stepping foot in the forsaken forest.

"I am glad, Amrâlimê.”

You were not well versed in the culture of dwarves but you were no fool either. You had heard the word spoken among the dwarrow people you'd crossed paths with in the Blue Mountains, noticed the tenderness and sincerity that always encompassed the word, how it was never said with any amount of offhandedness. The word was a confession itself, a confession of the highest kind.

And Thorin had just spoken it to you. As if it were the simplest thing on Earth.

Your confusion must have been evident as Thorin smiled again, the corners of his eyes creasing in amusement.

“You must not look so surprised, my love,” his thumb grazed your jaw. “That I should wish to call you by such a name.”

“What–” You managed in a clumsy attempt to make it known to the dwarf in front of you that you had no idea what was going on. “Thorin.”

The king didn't answer. Rather he kept his eyes fixed on you, coarse fingers working their way from your jaw up to your temple, then brushing just beneath your eye. He touched you as if you were made of something more precious than all the metals held in the great halls of Erebor. And despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind, in that moment you would have been content to stay there.

In the bogs of a cursed forest with your friends lost and your mind bewitched, all so that the king would keep looking at you as he was now.

But your better judgment, (or more likely, the uncomfortable feeling of mud and bog water dampening your clothes,) brought you back to reality. You moved to speak again but Thorin stopped you.

“It's alright, we're safe here, you and I,” he promised. “You needn't think of anything else.”

You tried to ignore how believable his words sounded as you took a step back. Hurt flashed in the dwarf's eyes.

“No, no we need to find the others. The company–”

“–will find their own way,” he calmed you, hand reaching out again to touch your shoulder. It sent a jolt of warmth through you. “You carry so much, endlessly worrying for the well-being of others. But you needn't burden yourself any longer, lansel. You know what it is you desire, what you deserve. So take it.”

You closed your eyes at his words. His hand found the back of your neck and you allowed him to draw you in closer.

“Let it be just us. Stay with me, Amrâlimê. That's all I ask.”

You had never felt such temptation in all your years. Would it truly be so wrong of you? To allow yourself to have this after all you'd persevered. You had long given up trying to convince yourself that you felt something for the dwarven king. That his bravery, stoicism, and unbridled loyalty to his people didn't fascinate you. You had wanted Thorin since not long after the journey's beginning. And now he wanted you too. There was no reason to keep this from yourself, no reason you shouldn't have it.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, was the persistent reminder that something was wrong. A reminder that resurfaced in the form of Bombur's cooking and Bofur's songs and Balin's stories and Bilbo's immeasurable trust in you. Your friends were still lost and that proved enough to bring you back to rationality.

“Thorin,” you started sternly.

“Forget them,” he said, as if he already knew what you were going to say. “Forget everything else. It is just us now. All is as it should be.”

You felt a tinge of discomfort at his words and you took another step back. Thorin would never forsake his kin, not if he was in his right mind. He traced your cheek again and this time you grasped his arm in a strong enough hold to pull it away.

You caught sight of his hand out of the corner of your eye and what you saw made you feel ill. The skin was rotting, bones threatening to tear through their paper-thin bonds. The fabric of Thorin's clothes had vanished and your nails had sunk into the rotting flesh which had begun to fall way in your grip.

You yanked your hand back in disgust, tripping and falling backward into the water at the sight of the creature. A gaping hole sat in the center of its face where you imagined its nose should be and a rigid crack served as its mouth. Green threads of damp mossy hair sprouted from its head and hung in front of the hollow cavities of its eyes.

An Siúlóir Portaigh. A creature you hadn't crossed paths with since you'd last traveled East of Gondor.

A bony hand reached out for you and you shot yourself backward, scrambling to your feet. Thorin's deep voice had been replaced with a low rasping gurgle, the sound growing louder as the creature lunged for you.

You turned and ran.

Thorin's voice had grown hoarse from calling your name.

He had turned away for one moment and you were gone and now as he searched, he feared to think what may have become of you.

His feet sunk into the ground beneath him, water reaching his ankles and soaking through his boots. Reeds sprouted up from the water, the smallest brushing his knees and the tallest towering a foot above his head. With a grunt, he pushed on.

The wind howled as it passed through the hollow chamber of the reeds and Thorin felt the hair on his neck stand up. Then, a shadow passed in front of him. He instinctively reached for his blade. It pushed through the long grass as it approached him but the glint of familiar armor has him dropping his sword.

“Thorin!” You beamed as you reached him. “You're alright. I lost sight of you in the fog.” You grabbed hold of his arms and Thorin was taken back by your sudden brashness. “I'm so glad I found you.”

He watched you for a moment, his joy at finding you unharmed outweighing the odd tinge of suspicion he felt. He cleared his throat and tilted his head forward in a curt nod.

“We must get back to the others.”

He turned to walk on but your arms held him in place.

“You needn't worry, they'll be alright,” you said casually. “As will we.”

Thorin offered a baffled look that doubled as a warning. He was uncertain what had caused your uncharacteristic forwardness and in all honesty, wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

You raised your head skyward and smiled again. With no shortage of confusion, Thorin followed your gaze

The sun had come back up and its light was seeping through the leaves above his head. The forest's canopy turned golden, as if set alight by dragon fire. Thorin's expression softened.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Your hand found his own. “We could stay here, Thorin. You and I. Imagine it.”

Thorin blinked. He could stay here, with you. He could tell you everything he'd been longing to say since the escape from the goblin tunnels and the orc ambush on the cliffside. After all, why shouldn't he? Did he not deserve this after so many hardships? You could truly be together, you could offer him a new start, a new home– Thorin blinked again.

“And what of Erebor?”

You seemed amused by his question. You brushed his braid away from where it hung against his jaw and Thorin surprisingly let it happen.

“Erebor lies half a world away, a buried kingdom of dust and despair in the clutches of a dragon. Is it truly worth so much? Worth so many lives lost,” you asked. “We have everything we need here.”

And Thorin could only think about how right you were; your hands in his, the feel of your fingers brushing his hair, the rising sun and golden leaves– he could want for nothing else.

“Do you not want for this?”

“I–” he tried.

“You have done honorably by your people, Thorin, but you have been selfless for far too long.” He closed his eyes as you spoke. “Choose not what is right by them but by you. No more pain, no more fear.” He could feel your breath against his cheek. “Just us. Stay with me, my love.”

And Thorin decided in that moment that he would.

Your legs ached and your lungs burned.

The bog was becoming harder and harder to navigate but you were yet to find Thorin and you did not plan on stopping till you were certain he was safe.

The water grew shallower and you took it as a blessing. With your lower half free of the mud, you drew your sword. You rounded the trunk of a decaying tree and were met with a horrific sight.

Thorin, with decaying hands grasped round his neck and a deformed maw nearing his face. Thorin stood in a trance, eyes glossed over and body stiff. The siúlóir's mouth widened, rotting skin tearing as it did. Its nails dug into the side of Thorin's neck, harsh enough to draw blood. Still, he didn't move.

You acted on impulse. With a quick lunge forward, you drove your sword through the creatures back, twisting it twice before pushing it deeper.

Its screech was inhumane. It grasped at its wounds, its guttural yowls putting your hairs on end. You ran it through again. The siúlóir went quiet and Thorin screamed out.

“No!” His voice was distraught, his hands grasping at the creature as it slumped to the ground. “No–!”

“Thorin!” You grabbed his shoulder and roughly yanked him back. He raised his head and looked at you as though he'd seen a ghost. “It's alright– it's alright, it's me.”

His gaze fell back to the creature at your feet and given the twist of horror and disgust in his expression you figured he was now seeing it in its true form.

“Siúlóirí portaigh,” you muttered under your breath. “Bog walkers.”

Thorin blinked before taking in his surroundings with frantic eyes. He regarded you with a cautionary look. He said your name and when you nodded, you saw his stance relax slightly. His fear turned to confusion. “What–”

“They were going to drown us,” you answered plainly. You nudged the creature's shoulder with your heel and watched it sink a few inches into the water. “We need to go, this place will be crawling with them.”

Thorin wanted to question how you knew so much about such monsters but given how desperately you wanted to leave their hunting ground, he prioritized.

He offered one last glance at the creature, body now mostly submerged in the sullen water. He shuddered at how well the creature had worn your face, how much its voice had mimicked your own. How easily fooled he'd been.

He silently followed after you.

You walked until the mud on your clothes had hardened and the silk webs coating the trees had all but vanished. The leaf canopy above you had thinned out and the surrounding forest was now warm with the sun's light. The moment you heard a nearby bird song, you knew the dangers of Mirkwood had passed.

Thorin rested against the trunk of a sapling. His gaze was focused on something over your shoulder but given the blankness of his stare, you knew he wasn't looking at anything at all. You took a seat at his side and began to tend to his wound.

A nasty gash ran from the back of his neck to just below his throat. You worked silently. Thorin didn't even seem to notice until you applied a fraction too much pressure and with a sharp intake of breath, he turned to you.

“Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Thorin spoke.

“What did you see?” he asked you. “That creature, it toyed with my mind, showed me things I longed for that I hadn't even admitted to myself. So what did it show you?”

“Nothing.” The lie came easy. “Nothing of worth. I've dealt with siúlóirí before, they feed you lies, draw you in and then drown you before you even realise you're in danger. Whatever you seen, I wouldn't linger on it.”

Thorin seemed almost saddened by your answer. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, he gently brushed your hand away and got to his feet.

“We keep heading East.” The usual stoicism had returned to his voice. “Dwalin would know to do the same. If we do not regroup with the company in a day's time we head back the way we came and search.”

You nodded and got to your feet like a soldier following orders.

And as you fell into step beside the dwarf you thought maybe it would be best to take your own advice. To pass what you'd seen off as baseless lies not worth thinking about. But the feel of Thorin's shoulders brushing your arm reminded you that would be no easy task.

You entered Mirkwood wondering if what you felt for the dwarven king was more than just fondness. Now you were certain.

quick authors note: I invented the siúlóirí an portaigh for this fic and the name translates to ‘bog walkers/walkers of the bog’ in Irish. It was pretty fun combining two of my interests, writing and folklore, to create my own mythological creature :)

#I like to imagine that reader is dúnedain #and that Siúlóirí Portaigh inhabit the dead marshes po #because i love adding unnecessary lore to my fics 😌#thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fic #lotr fic #lotr imagine #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit

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anghraine · 2 months

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cressida-jayoungr replied to this post:

Wait, what's this about squirrels? That's one I haven't run across!

It's one of the many factoids from Tolkien's essay on Númenor in The Nature of Middle-earth! He talks about gender and relationships with animals there:

they [Númenórean women] were generally nearer to men than is the case with most races in stature and strength, and were agile and fleet of foot in youth. Their great delight was in dancing (in which many men also took part) at feasts or in leisure time ... But nearly all women could ride horses, treating them honourably, and housing them more nobly than any other of their domestic animals. The stables of a great man were often as large and as fair to look upon as his own house. Both men and women rode horses for pleasure ... and in ceremony of state both men and women of rank, even queens, would ride, on horseback amid their escorts or retinues ... The Númenóreans trained their horses to hear and understand calls (by voice or whistling) from great distances; and also, where there was great love between men or women and their favorite steeds, they could (or so it is said in ancient tales) summon them at need by their thought alone. So it was also with their dogs. For the Númenóreans kept dogs, especially in the country, partly by ancestral tradition, since they had few useful purposes any longer ... It was men rather than women who had a liking to keep dogs as "friends". Women loved more the wild (or "unowned") birds and beasts, and they were especially fond of squirrels, of which there were great numbers in the wooded country. ...The woods of Númenor abounded in squirrels, mostly red, but some dark brown or black. These were all unafraid, and readily tamed. The women of Númenor were specially fond of them. Often they would live in trees near a homestead, and would come when invited into the house. (NOME 325-326, 335-6)

Conclusion: a) Númenóreans were, as a people, significantly larger than other humans, b) Númenórean women were more similar in size and strength to the men of their people than is usual among humans, and c) these gigantic women liked to befriend normal squirrels.

#just envisioning 6'9" númenórean women setting eyes on random squirrels: FRIEND!!!!!#cressida jayoungr #respuestas #nature of middle earth #legendarium blogging #númenórë #team dúnedain #long post

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havenotwillnotreadthebooks · 10 months

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Ok but wouldn’t it be funny if Elros put out a decree or something that if Maglor Feanorian is found, he is to be brought relatively unharmed to the king?

And then his descendants keep up the tradition, at first cuz they’re like “that’s the elf that raised dad/granddad/great grandfather/our ancestor”

But then the decree gets increasingly more vague as time goes on until its just “if you see a dark-haired, depressed elf that sings really good bring them to the king’s family”

Then The Fall of Numenor happens and it becomes a Dúnedain tradition to keep an eye out for a bedraggled elf singer with the self-esteem of a smashed coconut

It’s even funnier if Elrond is fully aware of this decree-turned-tradition and is the one encouraging it and keeping it going throughout generations like

Baby Dúnedain, pointing at a painting of Maglor & Maedhros Feanorian: who’a they?

Elrond, fostering another of his brother’s descendants: how about i tell you story about the time my brother and i rode mattress down the stairs, crashing straight into our atar, and afterwards you can learn about our family’s very special tradition

#silmarillion #elros #elros tar minyatur #maglor #elrond #elrond peredhel #cutscene to Maglor running away from numenorians for thousands of years #and then the Dúnedain #they catch him eventually in a hilarious game of #How Many Nets Do We Have To Wrap Around This Elf Until He Cant Break Out Anymore #silm headcanons #elros headcanons #tag.words

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lotro-tooltips-daily · 3 months

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#lotro #deeds #explorer deeds #deed nodes #bree-land #the history of the dúnedain #ancient crest #inscribed upon the wall you can make out the royal crest of one of the ancient arnorian kingdoms #to which these ruins once doubtless belonged

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theadwyn-of-rohan · 1 year

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I always wondered what age all the rangers, especially the grey company ones would be, and also more in general how dúnedain aging even works, and how the maturity compares to "normal humans"/middle men

I mean we do know that all the grey company rangers are dúnedain, even if they aren't of royal blood/direct descent of isildur, and therefore still have a longer life expectancy than normal humans. I don't know/am not sure, if we actually have information on that, but I would say, that means that the usual one is about 140-150 years, maybe?

Now the question is, where do the gc rangers fit in, and how old are they compared to aragorn?

In my mind, idk if I read that somewhere, i believe that Dúnedain mature at 25, and that's probably when they get sworn to aragorn, so Helchon is somewhere around 25 or 26 years.

Thanks to an ao3 fic I read some time ago, I hc Candaith to be rather young for a ranger, somewhere in his early thirties, also because (courtesy of that fic aswell) the lone ranger thing wasn't actually planned, but the other rangers just- died (blame garth agarwen. that always works) another contributing factor to young(ish)!candaith might be bc of the oc that i ship him with- but that's beside the point

Calenglad, as we know, is older than Aragorn, by at least about 20 years, and with him, in my mind-, looking like he's in his forties somewhere (leaning towards late forties), something inbetween 107-120 seems fitting

Golodir, I'd believe, is somewhere similar to Calenglad, possibly a bit older, but due to all the Angmar shit- being mordirith's favourite punching bag for a few years straight does that to you- has aged faster, which puts him somewhere in the range of 120/120+ give or take

Corunir and Lorniel were besties and a similar age, change my mind. With that, and my headcanon for Angmar being give or take 10 years long, they were definitely older than 25 to actually go on that journey, and at the very least two-to-three years older, for the experience, which would put them somewhere in their early 40s/40s. That would mean that Golodir had Lorniel at about 80- which is fine, ig? Aragorn had Eldarion at 91, tho he also lived to 210, so I dunno if he is a valid comparison.

Anyway, this were the first rangers that came to mind- [actually, now that I think about it loth and rads too- and amdir, dagoras, daervunn, saeradan, halbarad- but i can't be bothered to write smth about them]

here you go *cutely hands you my first post*

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infjpaladin · 11 months

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#infj the paladin #aragorn son of arathorn #aragorn #ranger from the north #strider #men of númenor #isildur's heir #one of the dúnadain #dúnedain #elessar #king elessar #high king of gondor #flag of gondor

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americiumam · 2 years

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mandalorian aragorn. if you even care

#mandalorian Dúnedain. if it even matters to you #sw #lotr #is this anything #95

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theblogofdurin · 2 years

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Cloaked in Green || Pt.2 || Chp.21: One of a number

word count: 1.9k

summary: the shadow is being unveiled.

warning(s): mentions of darkness, mentions of misogyny.

a/n: We're getting there people! please Like! Comment! and Reblog! to let me know how you all are liking this series so far!!

Thorin Oakenshield, Fem!Oc reader

Links: readers guide, series masterlist, chp.20

----

They pushed on.

Aranea and Gandalf rode for 2 full day’s before they finally made it to the High Fells. As both of them dismounted, Aranea looked around puzzled.

"This way." She gestured to the wizard after she finished tying her horse to a small pine tree. The deep green grass providing a healthy meal to the stressed mare.

Walking up the small hill, was when Aranea finally spotted what she was looking for.

"Ragorn!" She yelled, scaring the lean general. Beside him was 3 other plainly dressed men, each of them jumping up from their position. Drawing their weapons before their general with wide eyes realized who was speaking to him. The Dúnedain smiled, gesturing to his men as he resheathed his sword.

"My Lady." He proudly stated, hand resting on his chest as he bowed slightly at Aranea. All the men stiffened and nervously replied the same. Never having met her before, they were clueless on how to perform in front of her. Bowing back, as they approached Aranea gestured to the field around them. "Where is everyone?" She questioned with a stiff brow.

"Evening march." Ragorm explained smugly, "it's a customary-"

"Customary Marches did not fall under stationery guards." Aranea questioned. Ragorn smiled.

"Yes, My lady but-"

"Did Halthron tell you anything about why I stationed you here?" Gandalf had to glance at Aranea, the tone she used was not one who was used to hearing from his friend.

Ragorn stiffened as he glanced nervously between the wizard and her. "Well he…he mentioned that ther- there was tracks and-"

"And you thought that 4 men could protect the Fells." Aranea spoked, "There were originally 18 stationed here before the tracks even appeared." Nodding, Ragorn continued stuttering, "Ye-Yes, my lady."

"So you still decided to break protocol. I may be a lady, General but I know what goes on during these marches and I won't hesitate to strip both you and Elfmond of your commands. If I hear of either abandoning your posts again, Am I clear?"

"Yes, Ma'm" Ragorn answered clearly with a swallow. Sighing Aranea, glanced over at the 3 other young men, who had their head low to their chest, staring at the ground. She shook her head as she spoke softer.

"You all are not in trouble." All of the men looked up at her. "The world is changing and new enemies are coming forward. " She gestured at the small group. "You all can not protect yourselves and do your duty at the same time. It's why I order for 2 companies to be stationed here. "

Nodding Ragorn bowed deeply again as he pressed a hand hard over his chest above his heart. "You are most gracious, Lady Aranea."

"I understand the misunderstanding, Ragorn. '' Aranea placed a calm hand on his shoulder, as she gestured for Gandalf to head up the larger hill to the left. "However-" she spoke slowly and hard as she looked at the 3 other rangers. "My Brother is not as forgiving as I and if he heard of any of you breaking orders in a state of emergency again.."

"We won't." Ragorn bowed again, and with a glance, Aranea left them, catching up with the wizard up the steep hill. Reaching him just as he was starting up a treacherous looking staircase up the sides of a massive cobblestone structure.

"The Men of the time were sure not to make this easy." Aranea giggled as Gandalf stumbled slightly into the wall of the building. "Every 15th step is a false-" she started just as Gandalf stepped on the trap step, causing him to stumble up to the next step.

Catching himself, he slowly turned to look down at the red faced woman. "I see that." He stated with an eye roll before walking back up the stairs. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me too late?"

Aranea nodded her head before realizing he wasn't looking at her. "Once we enter you might want to hold onto the walls, There is a long slope down to the entrance of the cavern."

Gandalf nodded, "Great to know."

After a couple beats of silence, the wizard broke the silence. “I never heard you take command like that before.” he looked over at her. “It was impressive.”

Letting a small smile rest on her face for a second, before a twinge of sadness rolled on her face, Aranea replied almost starkly “I’m a woman, Gandalf though I might not always act like one. I have to try harder than my brother to get orders across.”

There was a pause in Gandalf’s steps, “You are an impressive Lady, Aranea.” Gandalf turned with a hand still firmly pressed to the wall of the building to keep his balance. “Anyone can see that.”

“Don’t let the actions of others taint your confidence in yourself.” his eyes twinkled at her softly before he turned to walk back up the stairs.

Aranea nodded as she took in his words. “It's not my confidence that is faulty.” she whispered to herself quietly, and despite her silent wishes he heard her.

Upon sliding down the small slope to look down the vast darkness, Gandalf muttered into his staff crystal, causing a bright light to release from its tip. Peering over him with her torch to look down the cavern, Aranea's breath stopped.

"Gandalf…those bars shouldn't be open like that." One after the other, the metal cages securing the bodies in their tomb were blown out from within. Gandalf reached a hand behind him to try and calm the Ranger. "We still have to check inside, there still is a chance of this being the work of robbers."

"On all nine?" Eyebrows furrowed and adjusted her footing on the slippery rocks. "You can never know." Gandalf twitched slightly.

She tilted her head, that's a fair reason, she agreed but highly unlikely. When building this fortress, the men of the time made sure it was a near impossible task to both enter and exit. A robber would only be lost.

Ignoring her thoughts, and with a nod of her chin towards the bottom of the pit, she all but spat. "He's in the last one."

Gandalf then gestured to the one above the rest and closest to the top. "Do you know the order of the rest?"

Aranea shook her head, swallowing. "Not completely." She took another breath, glancing behind them, "Let's get this done."

"I'll lead." Carefully walking the tight ramp of the tower, Gandalf carefully worked the way down, his hands catching him against the wall. Aranea followed behind with a tight grip on her torch. Inching their way slowly, the pair finally made it to the first burial chamber.

Entering first, the grey wizard carefully pulled away at the thick cobwebs, revealing the broken stone. Sharing a look with Aranea as she entered, Gandalf swallowed hard before he bent over slightly to look into the dark case.

Chirp!

A small bird shot out of the empty coffin. Screeching, Aranea ducked as the bird headed straight for her head.

"Oh, it's you!" Gandalf sighed, taking a breath, as he saw the bird land in the brown wizard's hair.

Aranea scoffed, running a hand through her hair and she stood back up from the floor. "Damn wizards"

Radagast ignored them, shoving his hat back on his head. "Why am I here, Gandalf?"

"Trust me, Radagast. I would not have called you here without good reason." Gandalf reasoned, still looking through the broken case.

"This is not a nice place to meet." Aranea let out a snort, as she maneuvered around him.

“No. It is not.” Gandalf nodded his agreement.

“These are dark spells, Gandalf. Old and full of hate.” Radagast shivered as he peeked over his friend’s shoulder “Who's buried here?”

“The Undying, is what they called him.” Aranea answered, from the entrance, Radagast and Gandalf both spun around to look at her. “It’s said that he was the last to succumb to the wasting powers that eventually swallowed him.”

Radagast's head snapped up and questioned Gandalf, wide eyed and frazzled.

“If he had another name, it's long since been lost.” she growled, turning her head she waved her torch over the darkness of the cavern, lighting up the other eight broken chambers.

“I must go speak with my men.” Aranea breathed, “Aragorn needs to know this immediately. Elfmond and Ragorn have been guarding nothing.” she bolted up the slopes as Radagast and Gandalf both followed slowly.

“Why now, Gandalf?” Ragagast questioned, “ I don't understand.”

“The Ringwraiths-” Gandalf resigned “-have been summoned to Dol Guldur.”

“But it cannot be the Necromancer.” Radgast pointed out, “A human sorcerer could not summon such evil.”

Gandalf turned to look at him as they stopped at the exit “Who said it was human?” Radagast gasped as Gandalf turned back to head down the treacherous staircase outside, “The Nine only answer to one master. We've been blind, Radagast. And in our blindness…the Enemy has returned.”

“Sauron.” Radagast murmured, walking straighter

“He is summoning his servants.” Gandalf nodded as he continued. “Azog the Defiler...is no ordinary hunter.” They now reached the bottom of the fortress. Looking over the cliff edge.

“He is a commander… A commander of legions. The Enemy is preparing for war.”

Running up to the pair, Aranea looked frustrated . “The tracks pointed directly to Dol Guldor, 2 moon cycles ago.”

“It will begin in the East. His mind is set upon that mountain.” Gandalf rubbed a shaking hand over his beard.

“We must warn them!” Aranea exclaimed “ Thorin and the others know nothing of this.” Nodding, Gandalf and Aranea both started down the long path.

“Where are you going?” Radagast asked, confused.

Gandalf only answered him over his shoulder “To rejoin the others.”

“Gandalf.” Interrupting him, Gandalf turned to look at him, “I started this. I cannot forsake them.”

“They are in grave danger, Radagast.” Aranea added, looking back at their horses only a few feet away.

“If what you say is true.” The Brown Wizard spoke plainly,”-the world is in grave danger. The power in that fortress will only grow stronger.”

“You want me to cast my friends aside?” Gandalf asked slowly, non believing.

“You're not casting them aside.” Aranea thought out loud. “I can go warn them. Radagast is right. If the enemy is preparing for war, we need to know what we are up against.

Thinking for a second, Gandalf bit his lip as he looked between the two, Aranea was basically bouncing her feet, wanting nothing more than to rush towards the others. Finally, “I'll meet you at the mountain.” Gandalf pointed his staff at her, “You should be able to make it before Durin's day.”

Nodding, Aranea rushed down the small hill towards her horse, quickly untying it as Gandalf and Radagast came up behind her. “Do not let them enter that mountain without me.” Gandalf shoved a finger at her as she mounted her mare.

"Good luck Gandalf."

With nods, Aranea parted from the two wizards. Taking off in the direction of the others.

---

NEXT>

The Nazgûl were they, the Ringwraiths. The Enemy's most terrible servants;darkness went with them, and they cried with the voices of death."

― "Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age"

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