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asgardianhobbit98 · 2 months

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Four for Valentine: Week 3 "Eavesdropping"

Fandom: DC, Nightwing, Batfamily

Pairing: Nightwing / Female Reader

Important tags: Probably the most overdone trope in the world but hey, it’s Nightwing fluff, we deserve more Nightwing fluff; fluff; proposal; eavesdropping; established relationship; female reader.

Summary: You overhear Dick and Bruce talking on the phone and find out Dick is wanting to borrow money... This sets off some alarm bells in your mind as their relationship is so strained it must be something very important for Dick to ask for money. Turns out, though, that it's not all as bad as you thought it was...

Written for my "Four for Valentine" event 🩶🩷

Tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @nowandthane

if you want to be removed or added to my tag list, please let me know 🩷

You had been done with work maybe two minutes earlier than usual. Yet, in those few moments before he noticed you, you managed to overhear enough to scramble your brain completely.

Dick was on the phone with someone you deduced to be Bruce – not because you were in any way a detective like Dick, but because you literally overheard an annoyed ‘Bruce’ come from Dick’s mouth.

Awkwardly standing behind him, you listened in on what was going to become a life changing moment of eavesdropping.

It wasn’t like Dick had any secrets from you to begin with, so eavesdropping wasn’t perhaps the reason behind why you suddenly felt so awkward. It was more the fact that, quite honestly, Dick’s relationship with Bruce was.. complicated. And on top of that Bruce was a very intimidating character all on his own. So you didn’t want to interrupt in the slightest in fear that he might get annoyed with you (not that Bruce ever could get annoyed with you). So you stayed right there on the side of the street, staring at Richard’s back as you overheard everything…

“It needs to be perfect. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, I can’t just give – But it’s just a little… Yes, I know. I know. I know what I said. I just can’t afford this one right now. I’ll pay back… Really? No, I want to pay back. Thank you Bruce. I mean it. I owe you one. No, I do. Thanks. Bye.”

Once he hung up, he turned to find you awkwardly stood behind him. He nearly jumped out of his skin, which was unusual as Dick was really difficult to scare. The man had a sixth sense or something, probably from his time at the academy.

“Did you just overhear-“

“No! Not at all,” you were quick to say.

But inside, that lie didn’t quite cover the beating of your heart and the worry spreading through your chest. Dick would never borrow money from Bruce because of their complicated relationship. So what was so important…

Assuming it was you that he was speaking of was something you were comfortable with. After all, this man had devoted himself to you since that day, three months into your relationship, that you’d caught him mid mental breakdown in the shower… and you had jumped in, clothes on, to just hold him. He went through so much. So much pain. So much anguish. He saw such horrors as a detective in Bludhaven. You just wanted to be there for him. So of course you were. Without judgement. Without fail. And apparently he’d had little to no such support before. Because from that day on, Dick had been in love with you.

You’d fallen for him a bit earlier, but once his love was locked in, you only fell deeper in love with him. He was so gentle, so caring, and so extremely goofy… Just to make you laugh, smile…

Perfection. He was perfection to you. And so, you didn’t feel it was a presumption to think he had been speaking about you. The only thing your brain was trying to figure out was what he was borrowing money for.

…

He drove you home, as always.

You didn’t live together yet, but you practically did.

On the days that he could get away from work to pick you up from your job, drive you home safe and walk you up to your door, and subsequently enter after you invited him in for dinner or a movie marathon or to just talk, Dick didn’t go home. He had clothes in your closet, his own set of towels, his own bar of soap. And you had the same objects in his flat.

Why the two of you didn’t live together yet was mainly because Dick was a little reluctant. Not in a bad way. But he was worried for your safety. He never brought his work home unless it was too much on him and he needed to talk or cry to you, but he was terrified that “work” would follow him home some day and it would put you in danger.

You weren’t quite sure why, considering Dick always managed to put everyone in jail. And if he didn’t, then Bludhaven’s protector, Nightwing, sure did. Still… you let him fret about your safety and you didn’t push him on the subject.

You hadn’t mentioned living together for three years now. It had turned into a comfortable routine to simply pretend to have daily sleepovers.

But as Dick walked you up to your door that afternoon, using his own key to unlock it for you, you were quieter than usual and forgot to offer the usual invite in.

He tried to ask if something was the matter but you just kept up the ‘no no! I’m okay!’ façade as best as you could.

The routine continued as normal for a while after that; the gentle homely everyday life the two of you had created, where Dick would sit himself down at the kitchen counter with some reports he wanted to finish, or read through, whilst he watched you cook happened just as always.

He cooked sometimes too in the beginning of your relationship but that hadn’t lasted long as he was, quite honestly, useless in the kitchen. You blamed his childhood where he’d literally had a butler. He blamed the fact that he was just better at other things. Whatever it was he was better at, you used to joke, you hadn’t seen it yet.

He’d always chuckle and pretend to be hurt before pressing kisses to your temple, hugging you tightly.

This evening was a little different from others though. He finished some reports. You cooked. He would look up and stare at you… And that was where the difference came in. You wanted to turn around and catch his gaze as usual, send him a little loving smile… But you didn’t. You were too caught up in the conversation you’d overheard, not sure why. Your mind was trying its hardest to come up with something: a reason for why Dick would borrow money for you…

Of course Dick noticed that. He was a detective, and a damned good one when it came to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked once more. There was a mixture between worry and haste in his words whilst he stood to move over to you.

You were absentmindedly stirring the boiling pasta which wasn’t needed as much as you were doing it, but it was something to avoid his loving gaze. He hugged you from behind, and you instantly leaned back into the hug, enjoying his little kisses and his little nibbles at your neck. “You’re quiet and you’re avoiding me. You never do that.”

True. Even if you were sad or upset about something, even him, then you’d never become distant.

Humming in delight at his show of affection, you let go of the wooden spoon and let your hands rest on his arms around you. “I’m sorry, Dick. I don’t mean to worry you.”

“So something is wrong?”

“No… I don’t know.”

He let go of you to gently turn you, catching your gaze with a tilt of his head. “What do you mean?”

You desperately reached out to hold his hands, just to touch something and to ground your thoughts a bit, because honestly you weren’t quite sure why you were so fixated on this but… you were.

“I guess I sorta overheard your phone call earlier…”

“Oh…” His eyes grew big, and he tensed.

Oh no.

“Love, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but why were you asking Bruce for money?”

Dick shook his head quickly, “Wait no, this isn’t…” Dick sighed. “Just. Stay there. Well, don’t let the food burn I guess but stay there.”

He suddenly rushed off, leaving you with more questions than anything else, really.

“Dick? Wait where are you going?”

He grabbed his jacket and just reassured you it was all okay and that you shouldn’t go anywhere… then he left.

Huh? You stood, dumbfounded, in the kitchen, pasta boiling, sauce bubbling…

And now you were less worried, and more confused. Dick hadn’t seemed weirded out or like he was off to never come back, he just seemed stressed about something not going his way and you really had no idea what was going on.

Fighting the urge to get a little upset about his lack of communication, you finished cooking and prepared two plates of food.

In the end, you ate yours all alone, and put his plate in the fridge for him.

You cleaned up the kitchen, you watched the sun go down over Bludhaven, you stared at the clock, you paced for a while, you tried to watch TV for a while…

Hours later, you gave up waiting and moved to the shower. You sent a couple of worried text messages with no response. You got ready for the night as best you could despite the growing pit in your stomach.

Did he run out for good after all?

Had something happened?

He had seemed stressed, maybe he didn’t drive safely?!

…

At some point during the night, you’d heard the key enter the slot and the front door open. It wasn’t like you could sleep, after all, so you’d propped yourself up on your elbows and waited. It was Dick’s footsteps that entered. He shifted around a bit by the door, then his steps disappeared into the flat.

Confused, and at this point a little hurt despite not knowing what to be hurt about, you just laid back down and turned onto your side.

What a strange day.

…

Not quite sure if you got a lot of sleep in or not, but at least aware that you had fallen asleep now that you knew Dick was safe, you were suddenly stirred awake by Dick crawling onto the bed.

He sat on his knees next to you, reaching for your shoulder to wake you, but paused when he noticed you move your head to look at him. It was dark as all hell in the room, so you only saw his shape for a while. Until he bent back to turn the lamp on behind him.

You squinted your eyes for a bit as they got used to the light, noticing him shift his hand to hold something out to you, but not seeing what until a bit later and…

Once you saw what it was, you just sort of stared.

There were even more questions in your mind now. He had run out for this!? Was this the thing he wanted to buy that he required Bruce’s help with!? If so, you understood why because… this ring looked expensive. Not only that, but you saw the little black box had an insignia from a rare jewellery store which one couldn’t find anywhere but in Gotham City.

Had Dick really gone all the way to Gotham just now to… “What’s this?” you asked, voice filled with sleep.

“A ring.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him. “I know but… Dick, I asked earlier-“

“It was this. I saw this a couple days ago when I visited Bruce.”

Huh? When had Dick been to Gotham? So many questions…

“I wanted to get it for you. It’s… It’s perfect.” He was still sat there on his knees, both his hands holding the little black box open for you to see.

You were still half asleep in bed, head lifted from the pillow, sheets wrapped around your body snug. “What… Dick I don’t get it.”

“Marry me.”

OH.

“I mean…” Dick laughed a bit awkwardly, “Do you want to marry me?”

Were there still questions that you had? Yes. Many. And a lot of them were going to be answered those days before the wedding when Dick decided to come clean about his secrets, but for now… For now, you were elated.

This silly man had driven to Gotham to get the ring once he understood that you were beginning to get onto what he was planning… For what? Just so he could still surprise you?

Probably. He liked surprising you.

So of course you laughed. A little bit at him rather than anything else. He looked a little miffed by this reaction, so you were quick to sit up in bed and reach your hands out to lovingly cup his hands holding that… insanely expensive looking ring. Which you loved, by the way. Even if you were scared of wearing it in fear of breaking it.

“This is what this was all about?” you asked.

He nodded his head, his blue eyes clearly not quite sure yet of whether you were okay with this or not.

So, you were quick to smile at him and nod your head to ease his mind: “Yes, silly. Of course I want to marry you. You didn’t have to ask. And you didn’t have to get such an expensive ring. All I ever need is just you.”

He smiled. Oh did he smile. It only made this moment even more precious to see him smiling this much.

After three years with him you didn’t think you could see any new sides of his, but that smile… that smile was different than anything you’d ever seen before. That smile was adoring and devoted and close to crying all at once… and you loved it. It was a special smile, you’d find out. One that only happened during a couple of special moments in his life. Like right now when he looked at you through a new lens of love.

“All I ever need is you too. But I wanted to get you the most perfect ring, to show you how much you mean to me.” He leaned over and pressed a long, deep kiss to your lips, before pressing his forehead against yours, noses touching as he slipped the expensive ring onto your finger…

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fizzyxcustard · 5 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sotwk · 4 months

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3rd Day of Yule: “Three French Hens”

Prince Turhir & Prince Gelir Thranduilion

Third Age 228

Banks of the Forest River, Northwest of Greenwood the Great

“I know he might look it, but he is not scary or mean at all. He is just really tall, you see?”

Gelir pointed in the direction of the wain, where Turhir was helping several men unload the cargo of sacks, baskets, and barrels--all containing food straight from the royal cellars. Alas, the sight of his brother towering over the other adults like an oak among saplings, probably did little to support his case.

The elfling glanced back at the two Lothéod children hiding (badly) behind a woman that cradled a bundled up babe in her arms. Gelir had never seen Men before, whether young or grown, and he wondered how close these were to him in age. Judging by their desperate clinging to their mother's skirts, they could not possibly be older than his seven years. Or was it normal for Edain bairns to be so meek and quivering?

He noticed the smaller of the two children braving a peek out at him, with dry, frost-cracked lips rounded in a pink “O”. When Gelir cracked a grin at her, she smiled back, uncertainly, but enough that he saw the gap where her front teeth should have been. It drove the young Thranduilion’s desire to try again.

“We brought you hens--three of the best, I raised them myself! Do you like eggs?” He pushed on in spite of their persistent quailing. “If you like other things, we brought loads for you to try! You should start with the fig pudding, my mother said you might like that, and on the way here, we even brought down a wild boar! Well, Turhir did with his spear, but I spotted it first! There is plenty of food--you will not have to eat your horse!”

Then the woman made a loud, strange sound that made Gelir stop suddenly. To his dismay, he realized that she was weeping. What had he said wrong? The Lothéod loved their horses best, Turhir had told him, but in the bitterness of a cruel winter, Men would feed even that to their young rather than let them starve.

“They cannot understand you, honeg.” Turhir said gently as he came up next to him. “They speak only Mannish.”

“Oh.” Gelir’s face fell, but only for a moment, until his brother laid a bundle of thick woolen fabric in his arms. He watched as the elder prince approached the woman, who, somehow, did not shrink away from the giant of an elf. Tuhir spoke softly to her, fluent in a tongue that Gelir had only begun to discover in his lessons, and draped a Silvan-woven cloak around her shoulders. But she only dissolved in heavier sobs.

“Þancie, Þancie!” she cried, and threw her arms around the elf-prince.

Gelir took his cue to rush forward and copy his brother’s example. He moved too quickly, and the children were too stunned, and they were soon wrapped in the sumptuous warmth of their new winter cloaks.

And finally, finally--the quivering ceased and when Gelir laughed, so did they.

“Turhir,” the elfling said, turning back to his brother, who was acquainting himself with the little baby. “What is their word for ‘play’?”

“Plega,” Turhir responded, and smiled as the faces of the children lit up in recognition. “But before you do that, let them fill their bellies and regain their strength.” He started to guide the woman back to the snow-covered cottage, windows now lit merrily by the light of a renewed hearth. “Come show them everything we have brought.”

“Yes!” Gelir grabbed the hands of his new friends. “Starting with Ammë’s fig pudding!"

Yuletide Series MASTERLIST

Yule Event Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @fizzyxcustard @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @spacecluster @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell @acornsandoaktrees @warriormirkwood @emmanuellececchi @minaturefics

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legolasbadass · 1 year

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Shelter From The Storm

Relationship: Thorin x reader

Summary: After leaving the Iron Hills and finding yourselves in the middle of a snow storm, you and Thorin find shelter in an inn and find more than one way of keeping warm until the storm passes.

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: This fic was written as part of the @officialtolkiensecretsanta 2022 for my dear @lathalea ❤️ (Ah! I fooled you, didn’t I?) I had the best time writing this for you and I’m so glad the secret is finally out because I almost blurted it out way too many times and I don’t think I could have kept silent any longer 🙈

I hope this fic will keep you warm on cold winter nights, but fair warning, you may need a bucket of ice (or snow) to cool down after this one 😈

Khuzdul translations:

Amrâlimê: My love

Bunnelê: My treasure of treasures

You let out a deep sigh of relief when you entered the inn and, at last, left the cold, snowy night behind you. Now, you love snow as much as anyone else—that is, when it has already fallen, and the sun shines bright in the sky, turning the land into a field of glittering diamonds, or better yet, when you can admire it from the safety of Erebor, preferably while sitting in front of a roaring fire, the loving arms of your husband wrapped around you. But to be trapped in the middle of a storm while travelling through the wilderness? Well, let’s just say that made you speak curses that would have made even Dwalin blush.

It all started this morning when you left the Iron Hills. A fortnight had passed since you left Erebor, and since then, you had attended more dreadful, pointless council meetings than you could count (most of which dealt with matters that could have been explained in letters, mind you) and an even greater number of feasts, which you found difficult to enjoy because the ale was so much better in Erebor, and your husband had a tendency to drink too much when he was with his cousin.

Your husband. You huffed in annoyance. It was all his fault! Thrice, Thorin delayed your return home, and when at last the negotiations between the two kingdoms came to a close this morning, a storm was brewing in the grey sky. And yet your husband—the stubborn fool!—was now intent on returning home and thus ordered your company to make haste despite how obviously unwise that decision was.

And now here you were, completely frozen after plowing through the stupid snow all day, snowflakes stuck to your disarrayed hair and numb cheeks. If it was not for the thick fur collar around your coat, you were sure you would have frozen to death on that road, and now you prayed to Mahal that the inn had enough rooms available for your small company, for there were so few inns between Erebor and the Iron Hills, and who knew if you would even make it to the next?

Thankfully, when the owner of the inn discovered the identity of his latest customer, he assured you that there was more than enough room for your company. Thank Mahal! As soon as everything was arranged, you rushed into your designated room as though your life depended on it—which it did, as far as you were concerned, you could barely feel your fingers! The innkeeper hastened to start a fire for you, and you could have sworn you could feel your muscles thawing as its warmth enveloped you, though some of your limbs had been so frozen that standing too close to the fire burned your skin.

You were shaking out the ice from your hair when Thorin stepped into your small room, making sure to lock the door behind him. He was still in his travel clothes, but his hood was off, revealing his reddened cheeks and unruly hair, and despite how annoyed you were with him for forcing you to accompany him on this trip and then forcing you to travel in these conditions, you couldn’t help but melt at the sight of him, and when his gaze met yours, it made you feel warmer than any fire ever could.

“Hopefully the storm does not last and by this time tomorrow we will be back in Erebor,” he said as he began to take off his cloak. You could only muster a hum in response. “Mahal, you look half-frozen to death.”

“That’s because I am half-frozen to death!” you groaned, despite knowing full well that he was not to blame for the unforgiving weather.

Thorin watched you in silence for a moment, then slowly made his way over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your still-shivering body. His warm breath caressed your skin before he pressed a tender kiss onto your cheek; you could feel the shards of ice trapped in his beard, and you shivered, both from the cold and the intoxicating tenderness of your husband’s touch.

“Amrâlimê,” he purred softly, pressing a few more kisses on your cheek and temple.

“Why must I even accompany you to these negotiations, Thorin?” you asked suddenly as you sunk deeper in his embrace, desperate for warmth.

He raised one hand to cradle your head, his fingers gently caressing your golden braids as he said, “Because I do not wish to be parted from you. And more importantly, I value your opinion.”

“I do not wish to be parted from you, either,” you replied, your eyes fluttering closed as Thorin slowly began to unplait your braids with his skilled fingers. “But we hardly spend any time together the fortnight we spent in the Iron Hills… And I would still feel all my limbs if I had remained in Erebor,” you added teasingly.

His chuckle reverberated through you, warming your heart, and as you looked up at him, you found him gazing at you tenderly, the flames in the hearth dancing in the depth of his irises.

“Well, I am certain we may find some way to warm you up,” he replied, the timbre of his voice sinking even lower.

“You mean sitting by the fire?” you replied innocently, even as your heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what you knew would follow.

“Aye,” Thorin replied as he leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “But are you not always saying that I am as hot as a forge?”

You could not help but giggle, and though you were still cold, you already felt better than you had in days. “You are!”

“Then perhaps … you should come closer to this forge to be properly warmed.”

“That is quite an interesting proposition,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “but I believe a demonstration is in order.”

Thorin smirked at you in a way that made your whole body yearn for him, and when he leaned in to kiss you once more, parting his lips to tease you with his tongue while his hands found their way to your back to pull you flush against him, you whimpered. A stab of desire shot through you when he pulled you onto his lap, his large hands coming to rest on the swell of your hips; the many layers of skirts you wore kept you from the contact you so desperately craved, but you did not need to feel Thorin against you to know just how much he longed for you in return. His groans against your lips and nearly bruising grasp on your hips told you all you needed to know about the insatiable hunger brewing inside him.

To your surprise, rather than hastening to disrobe you and pin you to the soft furs on the mattress to have his way with you, Thorin urged you to stand up. Your skirts were already terribly wrinkled, but there was nothing you could do about it; you stood, eagerly awaiting his next move, trapped between the flickering fire and Thorin’s broad frame as he watched you with hungry but tender eyes.

You remembered how nervous you had been the first time you had found yourself in this position, on your wedding night. You had been with a few men and women before Thorin, but still, you had felt so vulnerable under his piercing gaze, and not least because of all the rumours circulating about Thorin being a very intense lover. But now, you felt a thrill and eagerly submitted to his will.

“This wool dress is ideal to keep you warm,” Thorin mused as he raised a hand to caress the high collar of your travelling dress, “but I have something else in mind….”

You smirked, for you were sure you would approve of what he had in mind.

With agonizing slowness, Thorin spun you around and reached for the ties of your wool dress, leaving feather-light kisses on your neck. You relaxed under his careful touch and let your eyes flutter close. No words were spoken between you as your dress fell to the floor at your feet; only the crackling of the fire and your increasingly heavy breathing filled the room. Then, when Thorin snuck a hand under your skirts and trailed it along the length of your stockings to reach your bare thighs, you could not help but lean back against him, suddenly finding it very difficult to maintain your balance.

“You are trembling, amrâlimê—are you still cold?” Thorin asked, and you could almost hear the mischievous smirk you knew graced his face.

“Oh, very, very cold, My King,” you replied, using the title you knew enticed him so when spoken in a low, breathless voice.

He groaned and squeezed your thigh before removing his hand and letting your skirts fall back in place. Disappointment surged through you, but then you felt his hands fiddling with the ties to your skirt, and you shivered in anticipation. He struggled for a moment, perhaps due to the lingering numbness in his fingers, but he refused any help you offered him, so you were forced to stand there, desire simmering under your skin.

When at last, all your layers of skirts lay in a puddle at your feet, Thorin instructed you to face him once more. In his eyes, you saw all your desire and love reflected, and you exchanged a soft smile as he closed the space between you, then reached for the ties of your corset. You sucked in a breath as the tips of his ringed fingers brushed against your bosom through the thin fabric of your chemise. Thorin halted for a moment, his eyes fixed on your heaving cleavage, painted golden in the low light of the fire, then began to unlace your corset, passing the ties through each eyelet until the corset released its hold on your bosom and hung loosely about you. Without losing a second, Thorin pushed the garment off your shoulders and dragged your chemise along with it, leaving you in nothing but your stockings. You expected him to hasten to take them off, but he did no such thing.

Reading the confusion on your now flushed face, Thorin said, “I want you to keep your stockings. After all, we would not want you to get cold.”

You shivered, somehow finding the suggestion scandalously alluring, and then before you knew it, Thorin stroked one of your beaded nipples, and you whimpered. That simple, teasing touch was enough to drive you wild with need, and Thorin knew it—oh, how he knew. But you also knew that you had just as much power over him; you had not touched him at all, and yet his eyes were dark with lust, his sensual lips half-open, as though begging you to taste them, and when you stole a glance lower, you noticed the significant bulge in his leather trousers. You licked your lips.

That was all it took. In an instant, Thorin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring your mouth as though he had not tasted your sweetness in months. Your tongues tangled, getting lost in this dance you both knew by heart, tightening the knots of desire deep in your belly. His cheeks were warm now, but his beard was slightly damp from the ice that had melted, and you welcomed the coolness of it. One of his hands got lost in your now loose hair while the other continued to lovingly caress your curves, his rings cold against your now burning skin. A muffled mewl of surprise escaped you when he squeezed your buttocks and pulled you flush against him, his belt and leather clothes rough against your belly.

“Not fair,” you managed to wine between two fervent kisses. “You are still fully dressed.”

Thorin pulled away just enough to meet your gaze and raised one eyebrow. “Then by all means….”

You smirked. It was your turn now to tease, er, warm him. With nimble fingers, you pushed his fur-lined coat off his shoulder, then reached for his belt. Thorin’s eyes grew heavy under your ministrations, and when you unlaced his tunic just enough to plunge your hand into the loose neckline and graze his skin, he groaned into your ear. Heat pooled between your thighs at the intoxicating sound, and you pressed your thighs together, desperate to release the growing tension in your core. Thorin helped you by pulling his tunic and undershirt over his head, revealing his broad, sculpted chest to your admiring gaze, but left you to take care of his boots and trousers. His boots you tossed away impatiently, almost carelessly; his trousers, on the other hand, you took your time to remove, letting your fingers caress the trail of dark hairs just above the hem before grazing his bulge with the tip of your fingers. He groaned again, and fuelled by your own arousal, you caved in and pushed his trousers down his legs, allowing his impressive hardness to spring free.

The next thing you knew, Thorin was pinning you into the fur-covered bed with all his glorious weight, his manhood rubbing against that secret place between your legs, leaving you breathless, and Thorin moaned when he felt just how aroused you were.

“I do believe you are warming up, dearest,” he said playfully as he raised himself on his elbows to admire your body. “Mahal, you are so beautiful, bunnelê.”

You sighed upon hearing the endearment he knew you loved, but your expressions of pleasure grew louder and more breathless as he explored your curves anew, caressing you in all the right places. All the while, you splayed your hands on his sculpted chest, following the lines of his raven tattoo and tangling your fingers in the curls covering his pectorals. Then you sank your hands into his dark mane, cradling the back of his head to bring him closer to you as he bent down to suck on your nipples, drawing a breathless cry from you. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart, offering him access to that secret place between your thighs that desperately needed to be filled by him, and after caressing your folds and sensitive pearl until you thought you would burst, he entered you. Impossible warmth spread through your limbs as he stretched you, and the tenderness in his deep blue eyes was like a warm blanket around your heart on this cold winter day.

The whole world faded away, and the endless day of walking in the storm seemed to belong to another lifetime as you became one with your husband. Your One. His calloused hands caressed your thighs, then grasped your ankles to wrap you around him, bringing you even close to him, and even through the thick wool of your stockings, you could feel the warmth of his flexing muscles. Together, you abandoned yourself to this familiar passionate dance, moving perfectly in sync, the flames in the hearth the only witnesses to your love. It did not take long for both of you to reach your peaks of pleasure, and when that wave washed over you, licking you from the inside out, you cried out, uncaring that the other guests in the inn could surely hear your passionate laments. Your whole body burned with pleasure, and when Thorin spilled himself inside you, groaning in your ears and cradling you close, you thought that you actually looked forward to the day you would find yourself once more in need of such treatment after a wintry storm.

Eons later, you lay on the soft furs, your limbs entangled as you shared a languid, open-mouthed kiss. The fire burned more gently now, and except for a few flickering shadows on the stone wall, darkness submerged the room, but you could still see the soft, content smile on Thorin’s face, and your heart was warmed by the sight. As though he could feel your gaze on him, Thorin leaned in and buried his face in the crook of your neck, causing you to giggle.

“Perhaps it would not be so terrible after all it the storm kept us locked up in here for a few days more,” Thorin said, his voice muffled as he pressed myriad kisses into your neck. You smiled and pulled him even closer to you. No, that would not be terrible at all.

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#the hobbit #thorin fanfic #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x oc #tolkien secret santa #tss 2022

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middleearthpixie · 19 days

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Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Three

A/N: I apologize that it's taken me four months to update this, but between school and trying to figure out just how to work Sophie facing off with her husband, well... it's been a time. But, if you've stuck it out, thanks so much for your patience!

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

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

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

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3k

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Previous chapters can be found here.

As she neared Erebor’s main gates, Sophie’s heart sped up. The sentry smiled down at her. “Morning, Mrs. Asharm. Off to Dale?”

“I am, yes.”

“Just let me send word to Dwalin. His Majesty has let it be known he does not wish you to be traveling to Dale unaccompanied.”

Her gut twisted sharply and sent a sour taste into her mouth, one she swallowed hard against. “He—he has?”

He nodded. “Aye. He said it’s not safe and that if you must leave, you are to go with Dwalin.”

“Oh, but I’m sure he has far more important things to do than to keep watch over me.”

“Be that as it may, Mrs. Asharm, I have to fetch him. His Majesty was very clear in his instructions.”

Impatience seared her insides, but she tamped them down as she peered over her shoulder. No sign of Thorin yet. “Very well. But, please hurry. I’d planned on doing a bit of Yule shopping for His Majesty and I want him to be surprised.”

“It won’t take but a minute or two.” He smiled as he started past her. “I’ll be back as soon as I find him.”

“If you insist.”

He didn't reply, but made his way down the corridor toward the Great Hall and as soon as he rounded the corner, she turned and made haste to slip through the door and out into the wintry air.

Dale was busier than normal, as the Yule holiday was only a week out and more than once, Thorin found himself being knocked off to the side by an impatient man or woman, who then offered up an automatic, “I beg your pardon.”

He paid little heed to those he passed as he hurried along the walkways toward Stone Street. He wanted to find Jora as well as Sten. He had a score to settle with both of them.

A hint of snow hung in the air once more, the breeze crisp and cold as it stung his cheeks. He ignored it at he neared Lucy’s. From there, he walked to the end of the street, and turned toward the alley Jora had taken them down. His heart beat faster as he drew near the door with the peeling black paint. Asharm was not taking him by surprise this time, so Thorin carefully drew the Orcrist and moved closer to the building itself, close enough that he felt the cold of the stone through his leather and fur overcoat.

At the door with the peeling paint, he paused, drew a deep breath, then grabbed hold of the handle, although he didn’t expect it to actually be unlocked.

But to his surprise, the door wasn't locked and instead swung open with only a soft whine of somewhat rusted hinges, which immediately put him on his guard. He carefully stepped over the splintering threshold, into the dingy main room. The air felt stale and cold, the room giving off an absolutely abandoned feeling.

Still, the hair along the back of Thorin’s neck prickled and stood up, which made him even more aware of his surroundings. He held the Orcrist at the ready, carefully moving along the room’s perimeter toward the kitchen.

It was empty—no dishes in the drainer, not even a drop of water in the sink basin. There was no sign of life at all anywhere in the flat. If it weren’t for the fact that he still sported a small lump just above his temple and the healing cut above his eye, he’d swear he’d imagined what happened the previous night.

“Wherever Asharm is,” Thorin muttered, “he’s not here.”

“Thorin?”

He jumped, jerking the blade clear as he spun about to see Dwalin in the doorway. “Are you trying to make my heart stop?”

“Sorry,” Dwalin pushed the door wider and stepped over the doorsill. “Is Mrs. Asharm with you?”

“No.” Thorin shook his head as he slid the Orcrist back into its scabbard. “She’s still in Erebor.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“What?” He looked up to meet Dwalin’s worried expression. “Of course she is. Where else would she be? I left clear instructions with Lon that she was not to leave Erebor unless she was accompanied by you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. She wanted to confront Asharm and I told her we do so together. But, instead, I decided to keep her safe and in Erebor.”

“So, you lied to her.”

“Do not look at me that way. I would have to be mad to let her come with me, to let her get anywhere near Asharm, and if that means telling a harmless lie, I’ve no qualms about doing so.”

“She’s not in Erebor, Thorin. Lon did as you told him and came to get me and when we got back to the front gates, there was no sigh of Mrs. Asharm.”

“Did you check her apartments?”

“Thorin, she left. She was no where to be found.”

“Did you look—”

“She isn’t there.”

A sour taste flooded his mouth as his heart splashed into his stomach. Had she done to him what he’d done to her and set out to find Asharm on her own?

His initial reaction was anger, but then fear replaced it. Was that why Asharm’s flat was vacant? Had Sophie already found him, and had he done something to her?

“So, where are they?”

Thorin moved to the single window along the south wall. There the alleyway opened to a wider road whose name he did not know, and beyond it, was the Long Lake and then Esgaroth. “Take a guess,” he replied softly, squinting through the snowflakes sifting this way and that at the new structures on the bulkheads and docks that made up Esgaroth’s foundation.

“I hope you will take no offense, Thorin,” Dwalin growled in a way that made Thorin fairly certain he would absolutely take full offense at what he was about to say, “but I thought she had more sense than this.”

“We don't know that she confronted him,” Thorin replied softly.

“She snuck out of Erebor after already planning on confronting him with you, Thorin. Only a fool would think she did not take it into her head to do it alone.”

He continued to stare at Esgaroth as if he’d somehow be able to see where she was and that way know she wasn't in too much danger.

But that was foolish. Of course she was in danger. And he had no idea where to begin searching for her. Esgaroth wasn’t exactly a big city, such as Erebor was, but it was big enough that searching for someone could be a nightmare. And that it was still under construction meant it was also a bit of a dangerous nightmare.

However, all was not lost because he knew where to begin after all. “We need to pay Bard a visit. I think he might have an idea of where we can look for both Asharm and Sophie.”

“And when we find her?”

“Don’t you worry about that.”

Snow fell to create a near white-out as they hurried back toward the center of Dale and the Provincial House. Snow covered the streets, the walkways, and roofs and showed no signs of stopping as it settled in Thorin’s hair and beard and on his shoulders as well. He shook it off as they mounted the steps to the Provincial House and he rapped firmly on the door.

It opened with a squeak and he found himself eye to eye with Sigrid, Bard’s eldest daughter, who narrowed her dark eyes at him. “What do you want?”

He smiled, quite used to her blatant hostility toward him. He had the feeling she would never forgive him for what happened when he and his Company unleashed Smaug upon Esgaroth, no matter how much time passed or how much restoration or reparation he offered. “Is your father home?”

She nodded, tugging the door wider. “Come in.”

He and Dwalin thumped into the man hallway, stamping snow from their boots and brushing it from their coats as Sigrid called, “Da! King Thorin is here.”

A chair creaked, boots thudded dully across the floor and Bard came around the corner from where his study was and smiled. “Thorin, I was wondering when you would arrive. And then I was beginning to think perhaps you weren’t and that left me at a bit of a loss.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Asharm is in my study and I was running out of ways to stall her.”

Thorin glanced at Dwalin and then, without a word, shoved past Bard to march into the master’s study, where Sophie whipped about from the front window to stare at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same, Sophie. I thought we were to meet at the front gates,” he replied, his calm tone belying the irritation that now bubbled in his gut. Never mind that he planned to do the same thing—to go after Asharm without waiting for her—he knew she’d have gotten herself into serious trouble, had Bard not been of a mind to stall her.

“I just came to do some shopping.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He shook his head. “It insults both our intelligence. You knew you were to wait for me or for Dwalin—”

“And you were supposed to wait for me,” her eyes swirled with pewter anger as she looked from him to Dwalin and back, “and yet, you did no such thing, either, did you?”

“If you think I was about to let you get anywhere near Asharm, you are mad.”

“Why? I know him, remember. You were running off to confront him without knowing a single thing about him.”

“Sophie, tell me, how would you have defended yourself when he attacked, because if you think he wasn’t going to, you—”

“I would have been just fine.” She reached into her satchel and withdrew one of the knives from the Great Hall. “I am not entirely stupid, you know.”

He looked down at the knife in question and it was all he could do to hold back his laughter. “You would not have stood a chance, you know. Not with that.”

“I bested him with a skillet, remember.”

“And for this, you would have to be up against him for that blade to be effective.”

She stared at him. “I could still use it, if need be.”

“If need be?” Dwalin growled. “Are ye serious, lass?”

“That’s enough,” Thorin said, holding up a hand in Dwalin’s direction. Then, he turned back to Sophie. “And why would think you would even have a chance to use it?”

“Because I—that is, I mean…” Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. “I’m tired of being afraid, Thorin. And I do not want Heather to always be looking over her shoulder. And you were going to go without me, so you have no right to be angry with me, you know.”

He sighed softly. “I do not want you anywhere near him at all, so yes, I was going to go without you and I’ll not apologize for that. I want him out of our lives and I want him out for good and I care not what I have to do to make that happen.”

“Do you wish me to take her back to Erebor?” Dwalin asked.

“No,” Thorin said softly, shaking his head, “I don’t.”

“Thorin, ye aren’t thinking—”

“Thorin,” Bard broke in, “it’s madness to even consider it.”

“Thorin,” Sophie’s voice was low and steady, “let me do this.”

He brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing it as a dull headache took root behind his eyes. “Sophie, it is too dangerous.”

“I lived with him for years,” she replied without hesitation. “And I lived to tell the tales. I want to talk to him. Perhaps he will be reasonable.”

“And think you he will?”

“I don't know for certain. But it’s possible. Let me speak with him and if he refuses to be reasonable, he is all yours.”

“All yours?” Bard looked from him to Sophie and back. “Thorin, you aren’t thinking of doing anything rash?”

“Bard, you should probably step aside now,” Thorin told him, “for I cannot say what I will do, but know this, he will have it coming regardless.”

“You cannot simply kill the man.”

“I won’t, unless provoked. But, I absolutely expect to be provoked.”

Bard sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit. “I had the feeling you were going to say that.”

“He is no man, but a worm,” Thorin told him, ignoring the look Sophie shot him as he added, “He raised his hand to Sophie, to Heather, with full intent to do harm. Killing him would be too good for him.”

Bard looked over at Sophie. “Is this true?”

A hint of color came to her cheeks as she nodded. “It is, yes. He was—is a cruel man and what’s more? He enjoys being such.”

Bard let out another sigh with that. “I cannot condone it, Thorin. You know this.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“But, if I neither see nor hear it, there is nothing I might do about preventing it, either.”

“Good.” Thorin replied softly. “Because there is nothing you could do to prevent it at all.”

Dwalin folded his arms. “So, where do ye think ye’ll find him?”

Sophie cleared her throat. “I know where he’ll be. But,” she looked directly at Thorin, whose gut twisted with apprehension as she went on, “I’m going alone. You can follow after, but he must think I’m alone.”

“Sophie—“

“I’m not asking you, Thorin. I’m telling you.”

Continuing to debate it would be pointless. He’d come to know her well enough to know that. And despite the uneasy feeling he had at the thought of her meeting Asharm by herself, he nonetheless let out a slow breath and nodded. “Very well. But we will be right behind you.”

She didn't respond at first, but then, it was her turn to nod. “As you wish.”

“I don't like it, though, Sophie.”

“I know. I don’t like it, either.”

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

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luna-redamancy · 1 year

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Hello! I adore your Thranduil headcanons! Can I ask for some Thranduil headcanons where he got his human wife a puppy so she won't feel lonely while he was at political meetings and she said "It is sad that they don't live for long." and he says that he can get her an another one if it dies. She wants to joke around and answer "Am I being the replacement of your old wife in that equation?" He takes it serious and sad that his wife feel this way but turns out she just wanted to make a joke?

Hello my dear!!

I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! I hope you enjoy this, I'm in a bit of a writer's block today.

“What’s this?” You covered your mouth as excitement began to bubble in your chest. Thranduil had set aside the two of you to have a nice lunch in the gardens, and towards the end he brought you to another section of the garden where this little fellow was napping.

“I no longer wanted you to feel lonely, since I do not get to spend as much time with you as I used to,” Thranduil reasoned as you crouched down to watch the sleeping pup, a look of adoration on your face.

“Thank you,” You replied earnestly, not knowing what else to say as the animal began to awaken due to the noise.

“Hello little one,” You cooed as it stood up, stretching before wagging its tail and running up to you to smell and lick on your fingers.

“It’s so sad that dogs don’t live for very long,” You murmured, already feeling yourself grow attached as you began to give the puppy head scratches.

Thranduil crouched next to you, holding his own hand out for the pup to smell while the other placed a comforting hand on your back- thinking your statement was out of fear of being lonely once more. “Do not fret, I will ensure that you aren’t lonely again, my love. I will find you another should this one pass.”

Nodding, you fought the urge to laugh at the irony, “In that case, would you consider me a replacement for your former wife then?”

He paused, not speaking as you got the attention of the puppy onto you once more, now giving it belly rubs as you cooed at it. How could he have been so foolish? Noticing his silence, you turned, a confused look covering your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I never knew you felt that way,” He murmured, a serious look on his face as he dragged his gaze from the grass to you.

“Thranduil I was just–”

“I didn’t marry you because I was needing to replace my wife, or because I was wanting to have a wife again I–”

“I know, Thranduil,” You pulled a hand away from the puppy, reaching out towards him and holding his hand gently in yours.

“I was just teasing, my love, I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

Thranduil visibly relaxed, but you could see the seriousness still hid behind his eyes as he nodded at you, bringing your connected hands up to his lips so he could press a kiss to the back of your hand.

While you may have said you were teasing, he was already devising a plan on how to make it up to you. To show he married you because he loves and cherishes you. Not letting his thoughts pull him from reality, he let a soft smile take hold of his face as you resumed playing with the puppy.

“What will you name them?”

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linasofia · 1 year

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A Shooting Star

Part 7

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega

Summary: Lady Vega loves to sneak out to Erebor’s rampart to study the night sky, but one night, an unexpected visitor joins her. It is the beginning of a story whose end only the stars can tell.

A/N: This is the final chapter. You can find all previous chapters in my masterlist.

Special thanks to @lathalea & @legolasbadass 💙💙

Khuzdul: Thutratur - Little star

The servant’s rapid knock on the door pulled Thorin’s thoughts from the large scroll in his hand. Endless rows of runes seemed to dance before his eyes, and he gently rubbed his temples. The soothing gesture caused his braids to sway, and Thorin glanced at the mug on the table. Its hay-color content was cold and far less pleasant than it usually was when freshly brewed. Once again, he had stayed at his desk too late and missed the planned meal, and it seemed as if the evening would not end soon.

”Enter!” he barked, and the door instantly opened.

”Lord Vimar requests an unannounced audience, My King.” The young servant looked nervously at his king. He did not like to disturb him, but the elderly lord was very persistent.

Thorin sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. ”Let him in.”

Lord Vimar entered with his chin held high and greeted Thorin respectfully yet in significantly fewer words than usual. As custom required, Thorin offered him a seat, but his advisor politely declined.

”What brings my advisor here, at this hour? Is there an emergency at some building site?” Thorin knew exactly why Lord Vimar had come, but he would not reveal that. It was no coincidence the elderly dwarf stood in front of him, and Thorin thought of Vega and how she might have told the news to her parents.

”I come here not as your advisor, My King. The reason for my sudden visit is only of a personal nature, as you might have already guessed—if what I learned tonight is true.”

Thorin passively watched his visitor. Lord Vimar held his gaze steadily; his back was straighter than usual, and his jaw was set. He looked more determined than angry, and an unfamiliar spark was lit in his eyes. Thorin realized he saw a rare glimpse of his advisor caught in his emotions. Lord Vimar had never been a warrior, but like all dwarves, he knew how to handle an axe or sword—if he deemed it necessary. The silver-bearded dwarf had no weapon in his hand, but his proud bearing spoke a language of its own.

”Let me hear it then.” Thorin held his voice even, the same tone he sometimes used when the progress of a negotiation was unclear. It expressed neither emotions nor opinions and was often considered an impressive self-control by his top negotiators.

”I will go directly to the point.” Lord Vimar took a deep, shaky breath and exposed a small crack in the shield of his calm. Thorin knew what was coming but did nothing to encourage him. ”Vega claims you have asked her to court her, My King.”

”That is true,” Thorin confirmed without even the slightest hesitation.

”As her father, I always worry for her safety. Being a brother and uncle yourself, I am sure I don’t need to explain to you that her safety is the most important thing to me.” His forehead turned red. ”I am not insinuating that she would not be safe with you, My King, but my daughter was raised to think and speak for herself. And believe me when I say that she does.” Lord Vimar hesitated before he continued. ”I need your word—I need to know that you will treat her like the rare gem she truly is and not try to force her into something she is not. If you are in need of an obedient maiden who can give you an heir—”

Thorin raised his hand, and the kingly gesture instantly silenced his visitor. A less understanding king would have been deeply offended by his subjects' last words, but Thorin let it pass. He was not interested in starting an argument with Vega’s father, especially not so early in their relationship. The truth was he had not even considered the possibility of having children. Those thoughts were far beyond the horizon of his imagination. He already had two heirs in his sister-sons, one of them ready to step in when it was time for Thorin to unite with his father and grandfather in the great Halls of Mahal.

”Lord Vimar, your concern for Vega is understandable, and I will give you credit for having the courage to come and see me. But let me assure you, your daughter’s brilliant ability to think and speak are some of the things I value the most. It will not change over time.” Thorin refrained from lecturing Lord Vimar for implying he, the king, could take a less interesting woman to his side. The strong feelings between him and Vega could only be described as a true blessing. Only death would be able to tear them apart—of this, Thorin was certain, but he saved those words for Vega and instead offered a stiff nod for her father, who seemed to hesitate again. Maybe he wanted to say more but understood he would step over the thin line he already walked close to. He nodded back.

”Was there anything else?”

”Thank you, My King, for allowing me to speak from my heart. Only one more thing. Vega does not know that I am here. Maybe it’s for the better if she remains unaware.”

”Good night, Lord Vimar,” Thorin said firmly and turned his attention back to the scroll on his desk, marking the end of their conversation. He would make no such promises. Secrets between Vega and him could only lead to bad events happening. Enough foul things had occured in his life; he needed no more. Vega was his thutratur, and her light was bright enough to guide him out of the constant darkness that had clouded his heart ever since the dreadful day in the valley of Azanulbizar.

The door shut with a thud, and Thorin was alone again. Like so often, the thought of Vega made it hard for him to focus on the task at hand. From the moment they first met, her emerald eyes had enchanted him, and now, after their shared kisses the previous evening, her lips and the way she reacted to his hand's gentle exploration of her curves made him desire her even more. She belonged in his arms, and he swore again to protect and cherish her for as long as he lived.

Lord Vimar wandered through the halls of Erebor, pondering his outburst towards Vega. The more he thought about it, the less he could defend his reaction. His dear wife was right, of course, as she so often was when it came to matters of the heart. If the king and his daughter were meant to be together, nothing could tear their hearts apart. Not even a father’s overprotective behavior. And Vega was right, too; he wanted to see her wed. He knew he was supposed to feel nothing but happiness for her, and he would have—if it were not for the old rumors about the king’s love for gold. Being part of the past, Lord Vimar had never really cared about them before, but now they made him worried. When Lord Vimar first came to Erebor, the king had recently recovered from two battles. One was against a huge army of enemies—the other against his own mind. Both incidents were said to have almost claimed his life, but in different ways. Lord Vimar trusted the king and would follow him through the wilderness again, but he feared what would happen if the king suddenly looked at his daughter the same way he used to obsessively admire the Arkenstone. Would her love then be enough to prevent a disaster between them? Lord Vimar sighed. The king had been nothing but fair since they started to rebuild Erebor, and many years had passed since then. Now he was the one being unfair. King Thorin had proved his value as the rightful ruler of Erebor, and the Mountain had become prosperous in trade with other realms and a safe home for all dwarves living within its walls. Lord Vimar pushed his doubts to the side and decided to focus on making things right with Vega. He hoped she would accept his apology.

***

”May I come in?”

At the sound of her father’s gentle voice, Vega looked up from the captivating book she was reading. She was tempted to say no; she had no wish to deal with his temper more tonight. But his voice sounded very different, and it made her curious.

”You may,” she answered and watched the door slowly open. Her father closed the door carefully behind him, and she nodded for him to take a seat in the armchair opposite her. Vega placed the book on the small table between the armchairs and let her hands rest on her lap.

Lord Vimar gave his daughter a hesitant smile, but she did not return it. ��Vega…” he said. ”I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. I had no right to yell at you, and I said unfair things. I was shocked by your… news, and I did not handle it well.” He paused and waited for her to speak, but Vega remained silent. ”Your happiness is very important to me, and even if you never asked me to approve of your choice, I want you to know that I fully do. The king is an honorable dwarf and I am happy for you. Despite my previous words.”

Vega watched her father as he spoke. She could not remember seeing him so regretful before, and when he stroked his beard, he looked older than usual. Shame rested heavily on his shoulders, like stone carried by workers from the mines beneath the Mountain. She could not bear to see him suffer under the weight of his conscience, so she leaned forward and took his hand. ”I accept your apology,” she said softly, and even if the regret in his eyes did not instantly disappear, it seemed to lighten his heart. His eyes were slowly filled with the same warmth as when she was a young girl and sat on his lap, with bruises and small cuts on her hands after playing on the slopes of the Blue Mountains. Her safety would always be important to him.

Lord Vimar left his daughter alone after another reassurance of his regrets, and she bid him good night with a smile and a gentle hug. Vega sighed deeply when she sat down to rest again. The day had indeed been eventful. She picked up her book and returned to the fascinating tale of a young raven who learned to fly despite lacking other birds to observe. Eventually, Vega lost track of time as she let the story capture her, and in her mind, she could clearly see the black bird and the prince on the bridge outside the main gate. They had the strongest friendship, formed by love and trust—the same pillars her parents had built their relationship on.

When her mother suddenly called for her, she sighed again. All she wanted was to be alone and read before going to bed. Her mother called again, sounding a bit rushed, and Vega stood from her comfortable seat and opened the door with a patient smile.

”Amad?”

”Vega! Did you not hear me the first time?” Lady Vanadis did not wait for Vega’s answer, and she could barely hide her excitement when she continued in a hushed voice, ”You have a visitor! I think you can guess who it is.”

Vega’s heart almost stopped. Thorin! Here? She was grateful for holding on to the door handle, or she would have stumbled out from her room far less gracefully than she intended. ”What does he want?”

”How would I know? He wanted to speak with you. I invited him to the gallery. That way you can have your privacy and nobody will question you for allowing the king into your private chamber.” Her mother’s conspiratorial smile warmed Vega from her neck up to the tip of her ears.

”How do I look?”

”Lovely as always. Come here,” Lady Vanadis reached for the small hairpin holding the courting braid secured and partly hidden among her other braids. The braid fell down on Vega’s shoulder, and she could vaguely feel Thorin’s clasp through the fabric. ”Do not hide something you are proud of. I am sure King Thorin is like most dwarves, he likes to see the braid he made for you. Not because you belong to him, but because you belong together.”

”Thank you.” Vega gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, grabbed her skirts and rushed to the gallery. Her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Thorin, and her expectations increased with every step.

The gallery was a spacious area and home to all family members’ interests. Everything from their large collection of books and Lord Vimar’s old maps to Lady Vanadis’ endless vases with dried flowers. It was maybe not the most coordinated collection of items, but all of them were unique, and they had a history to tell.

Thorin stood with his back to the door, watching an old painting Vega’s father brought from their home in the Blue Mountains. It had a few cracks in the paint, but Lord Vimar refused to have it restored. It reminded him of their journey, and he wanted the painting with its flaws. When Vega entered, Thorin quickly turned to greet her, and the smile on his face made all her tiredness disappear. In a few hasty steps, he stood before her and took her in his arms as if he had done it hundreds of times before. Vega’s hands landed on his firm shoulders, and she knew she would never get tired of the feeling of his body against hers. How she wished she was allowed to peel off his tunic and admire what he hid underneath, but courting meant respectful and decent meetings, even if she was told many dwarves secretly skipped the old traditions. She had to be patient; she did not yet know how traditional Thorin wished their courting to be. He was the king, after all, not a simple blacksmith, and as such, he was expected to lead by example in all situations. Even if she tried not to think too much about that, she could not help wondering how different it would have been if Thorin was someone less powerful.

”What brings you here, Thorin? Is everything alright?”

”Everything is fine, I just came to steal a kiss or two, if you do not mind.” He smiled even wider as he confessed, and it made her giggle.

”I will never mind such delightful initiatives.” Vega wrapped her arms around his neck and let his intoxicating scent surround her. The blue tunic he wore was cut in a way that allowed her to admire some of that dark chest hair she had noticed several times before. She wondered if Thorin did it on purpose; that look on him was absolutely irresistible, and once again, she felt heat rush to her cheeks—and her core. Thorin held her close while he bent down and placed a kiss on her lips.

”I missed you, thutratur,” he murmured with a voice so deep it made Vega tremble. ”Far more than I can express in words.” One of his large hands gently caressed her lower back as he spoke, and the innocent—yet sensual—touch made her melt in his embrace, like a small piece of gold placed in one of the massive furnaces below the Mountain. Unable to stop herself, Vega kissed him back without any concerns for decency. He tasted so good, and his warm breath blended with hers when he groaned and pulled her even closer to him. In his arms, time ceased to exist, and all she could think of was his exploring lips and the blooming feelings in her chest. Suddenly, his fingers were at the back of her neck, teasing her skin and carefully caressing her braids. He did it with such longing in his touch it made Vega yearn for the moment when he would slowly and carefully unbraid her hair.

”I missed you too,” Vega whispered truthfully when they eventually broke the kiss. She never expected her heart to beat so strongly for another dwarf, and it was almost frightening.

”I am glad I was able to see you, if only for a short time. The hour is too late, and I will leave soon, but I wanted to see you and make sure you are alright.”

”And I am both glad and still surprised you came,” Vega replied.

”Vega,” Thorin suddenly sounded serious. ”I hope I made my feelings clear last night. I meant every word I said, but if you have any doubt about my intentions, I will repeat them every day, for as long as necessary.”

”I have no reason to doubt you, Thorin.” Something in his eyes made Vega tilt her head and study him for a short while. ”Why do you say this?”

Thorin took one of her hands in his and held it against his chest. Then he rested his forehead briefly against Vega’s. ”You already know me well enough to understand when there is more to my words than I speak.” He gave her an affectionate smile. ”Your father came to see me today. He expressed concern for my intentions with you and before you say anything about it I want you to know that it was all right. I see a father’s love, nothing else.”

Vega blushed. She never expected such actions from her father, but she quickly realized his change and apology were direct results of his and Thorin’s meeting. She wondered what was said but refrained from questioning Thorin about it.

”Alright,” Vega answered simply, trusting Thorin to speak if there was more she needed to know. But he did not. Instead, he cupped her face with both his hands and held her tenderly.

”My heart belongs to you,” Thorin spoke softly and let one of his thumbs caress her cheek. His warm gaze etched itself in her memory forever, and she knew in her heart he was speaking the truth.

”Just as my heart is yours, Thorin,” Vega answered and was instantly rewarded with another kiss, filled with all the promises Thorin wanted to speak of but held back to not rush their newly tied bond. Joy had returned to his heart, and he was beyond grateful. No stars were present to witness their declarations of love, but high above the Mountain, another fading light fell over the evening sky. This time, neither Thorin nor Vega was on the rampart to see it, but Thorin needed no shooting star to guide him. His light was right in front of him, wearing his clasp and looking even more gorgeous than she did the first time they met. Their future journey might be written in the stars, but a bond as strong as theirs cannot be broken. Ever.

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly @exhausted-humxn-being @beenthroughalot @chaikittie @piscesvancouverite @sotwk @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy @mrsdurin

Let me know if you want to be added or removed

#thorin #thorin oakenshield #richard armitage #fanfiction #the hobbit #thorin x oc #thorin fic #thorin fanfiction #erebor #love

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tolkienrsb · 1 year

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TRSB: Gallery Opening and Discord Art Talks

Hello, TRSB-ers!

This year's gallery will open for your perusal and delight on the afternoon of Friday, May 19th at 16:00 CEST.

We know this is a very exciting part of the event, and there is going to be a lot of chat and activity happening on our Discord server and various Tolkien platforms. Some people will be high as kites, others may be very nervous. With that in mind, could we please ask you all to…

Be kind. Think before you type/speak/post, and consider how your words might sound if a creator overhears them. You don’t know whose art is whose, or exactly who is hoping to write what. You do not know everyone’s personal circumstances.

Be respectful. Creators have a right to their headcanons and do-not-wants. You are of course entitled to your personal views on these, but please see point 1 if you’re considering starting an open discussion about them.

Be inclusive and welcoming. We have artists and writers of all backgrounds and experience levels taking part in this event. Length of time in fandom and knowledge of different canons will also vary. Keep conversations positive and encouraging; we do not gate-keep here.

Participants, look out for the official mod email with the gallery link. This will be sent to all participants, no matter what role you signed up in; however, as per our rules, do not share the link with anyone not taking part in the event.

Following the gallery opening, we will host Art Talks on our Discord Server over the weekend. Since there are quite a few art pieces this year, there will be two sessions - one on Saturday and one on Sunday, both starting at 16:00 CEST. If you are not sure when that is in your time zone, please check out this link.

We invite you to participate in the discussions either on voice or via text. If you choose the first option, please make sure that you have your microphone muted when you are not speaking to reduce the background noise to zero. There will be a lot of participants so try not to interrupt others. We understand that we all will be really excited, but it’s important to allow everyone a chance to speak their mind.

We hope you have a wonderful time viewing the art and talking about it and that you all find something to inspire and delight. If you have any questions or concerns, contact one of the mod team - @ettelene @gratuacuun @hauntedsiriel-blog @joyfullynervouscreator @lathalea and @legolasbadass.

#trsb23 #trsb gallery #mod post #trsb mod post

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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Y - Yearning

For @lathalea. With a special mention of @scyllas-revenge's cat :D

Words: 1,1k

Pairing: Boromir x OC

Warnings: Boromir is not doing so well...

Boromir reread his letter for the 40th time—already, the paper was worn thin by his fingers in some spots and the creases of the repeated folding and unfolding had marred the once beautifully smooth paper.

He knew that he could have asked his younger brother for help, but his pride didn’t allow him to admit his doubts and insecurities openly—especially not to that smug scholar.

Faramir, of course, was now married to the Lady Éowyn and, thus, he was perpetually gleaming with happiness and self-satisfaction.

It was not that Boromir resented his brother for having found his well-deserved bliss, but he was also not eager to lay out his own shortcomings before one who was undeniably winning at life.

The mere idea that Faramir could pity him made him cringe and he forced his eyes to return to his truly unfortunate letter.

He had not been feeling this out of his depth for many years—once upon a time, he had suffered a great deal under the fact that his brother and their father shared a good many character traits and habits, and he had ever had the sensation that he was an outsider in his own family.

In times of war, his nature and hard-won skillset were exceptionally useful assets but in this period of the strenuous aftermath of a world-changing battle, he felt at a loss again.

If only he had paid better attention to his tutors, droning on and on about grammar, syntax, and poetry. Back in those days, all Boromir had been able to think about was martial and military prowess—and the safety of his realm in the face of the growing darkness.

He had done well, he told himself comfortingly; he had played his part in the victory of the free people against their terrible foe!

Even though he was ashamed of it, he had to admit that a part of him had not expected to return from that quest and, sometimes, he wondered dejectedly if it would not have been for the better if he had died a hero’s death far from Gondor.

His country needed a strong leader—a man both wise and temperate—and Boromir suspected that his gentle, intelligent brother would have been better suited to the role of steward in times of peace than he ever could.

Especially because King Elessar’s decision not to abolish their hereditary title meant that Boromir was to find a wife.

In order to achieve this—in the absence of his father and due to his petty refusal to ask his brother for help—Boromir would have to locate, woo, and win a lady of good standing on his own.

Finding one he would have died a thousand times over to call his had not been nearly as hard as he had expected it to be, but this made the subsequent steps all the more gruelling.

How could he possibly delude himself into believing that a woman like her—beautiful, well-bred, witty, and charming—would ever consider someone as uncouth as him as a romantic partner?

It was an extraordinarily stroke of bad luck that the lady who had utterly bewitched Boromir had told him explicitly that she would never marry for wealth or station.

“Only a true love match will sway me,” she had claimed with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

Boromir had to admit that he had reacted rather haughtily to that statement, believing that she was insinuating—oh, it had been his hurt pride and fragile heart speaking—that he could only win over a lady by dangling his title in her face.

It was hopeless—he was doomed.

Again, he cursed himself for not having developed and cultivated his courtly manners more, because—as he perused his clumsy letter obsessively—he realised that his words didn’t even sound convincing to him, even though he had written them straight from the heart.

The tingling of a tiny bell—announcing the arrival of an unexpected but certainly not unwelcome friend—tore him out of his dark thoughts.

“Buisine,” Boromir called and, as he was completely and woefully alone, he even made little kissing noises at the animal to draw it closer. “Your mistress must be very worried about you!”

Jumping on the exceedingly comfortable-looking lap of the famed hero, the feline visitor rubbed his furry head against Boromir’s equally hairy chin in a wordless expression of support.

“Maybe I should let you walk over a fresh sheet of paper,” Boromir cooed at the cat. “I am sure that your inky pawprints could not be significantly less eloquent than whatever gibberish I have come up with.”

Buisine blinked slowly up at Boromir, inviting pets and purring encouragingly.

“If only your mistress was as easily charmed by me as you are,” Boromir chuckled as his rough, calloused fingers slid through the silken, elegantly striped fur of the stately animal.

The cat had taken to him instantly and they had been fast friends ever since the day Boromir had found it pawing at a clump of insects.

“I have food,” Boromir went on musing aloud, “and hands to hold and to caress. That is enough for you, but…What does it say about me that it seems so easy to me to confess all my grievances to you when I swallow my tongue as soon as I find myself in your lady’s presence?”

After accepting the strip of dried meat Boromir offered him, the rotund tomcat started cleaning himself on his lap; it was a calming situation and, slowly, Boromir’s nerves settled.

What was the worst thing that could happen? He’d simply send his awkward letter and hope for the best—if she was dissatisfied with it, he would at least get the chance to explain himself to her in person without having to bring up the subject without prelude.

“Buisine?” a melodious, distinctly female voice resounded. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!”

Stretching out across Boromir’s thighs, the treacherous feline gave a loud, plaintive call.

“Traitor,” Boromir hissed and—for a second—it seemed to him that the cat was laughing at the sudden nervous flutter in his heart, betrayed by entirely unnecessary fidgeting with the straps and fastenings of his coat.

“Oh…there you are. My Lord Boromir,” the object of all his desires said, clearly taken aback, “you must not let him badger you so! Come here, you naughty bugger.”

Her eyes fell on the partially folded letter. “What have we here? Are you penning letters together?”

“Yes,” Boromir admitted dryly. “Buisine is helping me find the right words.”

“I sincerely doubt that, with all due respect,” she replied—amusement dancing in her eyes—and sat down by his side. “I could take a look though.”

Buisine gave a loud purr before curling up again, evidently considering that this was a job well done.

@fellowshipofthefics here's my second entry for the April Alphabet.

Special thanks to @lathalea (a great author, go check her out) for the request and to @scyllas-revenge for letting me borrow her cat (another great author, Scylla...not the cat).

Lots of love from me...

Tomorrow...Gondolin OT3

-> Masterlist

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #LOTR #Boromir #Boromir x OC #Yearning #Y #April Alphabet #fotfics april alphabet #fellowshipofthefics

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lathalea · 1 year

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Tag game

Thank you so much @i-did-not-mean-to and everyone else who tagged me!

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

💎 three ships: Vingilot, Millenium Falcon, Titanic... ah, you mean fic ships? Thorin x <insert a character I'm writing a story about atm>, Galadriel x Celeborn, Bilbo x Bofur 💎 last song: Norupo by Heilung 💎 last movie: The Two Towers 💎 currently reading: M. John Harrison, The Centauri Device 💎 currently watching: The Last of Us 💎 currently consuming: orange juice 💎 currently craving: cheesecake

Tagging @sotwk @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @legolasbadass @linasofia @mrsdurin @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @enchantzz @heilith @sweetestgbye @aduialel and everyone who wants to join! :)

#lathalea speaks #tag game

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frosticenow · 10 months

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Masterlist l Frosticenow

This is the Masterlist of all my fics. I will try and keep it updated as much as possible. All the the fics are posted on AO3.

Modern Girl in Middle Earth

Young Man's Fancy was Turned into the Spring

Relationships: Fíli (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s) Rating: Mature

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

Ongoing

Bagginshield

Diamond in the Garden

Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/ Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli/Original Female Character(s) Rating: Mature (also note this had mpreg in it)

It has been just over three years since the Battle of the Five Armies, and Bilbo had created a life for himself back in the Shire. Most of his friends and family wont speak to him and he lives with a shadow of fear the the dwarrow of Erebor will come back for him and find out about his secret. Unexpected visitors appear on his doorstep on day throwing what he thought he knew into chaos.

Ongoing

Flower that Never Die

Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/ Thorin Oakenshield Rating: Teen

Thorin is trying to support his family by leaving the safety of the mountain. Traveling to the Shire seems like the best way.

Finished Note: I am planning on reworking this and increasing the length soonish. I also did this for @thorinsspringforge 2023 with @consultingpacha who’s companion piece you can see here.

Thorin/Original Female Character

The Thread of Life

Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character (s) Rating: Explicit specifically for chapters 4 and 6

Thorin Oakenshield begins his question with a small token. The handmade handkerchief was a small memento from the dwarrowdam he had loved in secret.

This was written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2022. It is a collaboration with @lathalea, who created the beautiful piece of embroidery and prompt.

Finished

A Funny Thing happened in Gondor

Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character (s) Rating: Explicit

Thorin is travelling to the Mannish kingdoms to make trade agreements and strengthen Erebor. The first stop is Minas Tirith, where the Steward of Gondor uses politics as a game. Thorin finds an unlikely ally.

Finished Note: I did this for @thorinsspringforge 2023 with @legolasbadass who’s companion piece you can see here.

Gen

Three Bracelets and a Loaf of Bread

Rating: General

Dis works hard with and for her people. Even if little dwarflings are being spoiled by their adad (father).

This is for The Hobbit and Unexpected Collaboration 2022.

For the Prompt: Everything about Dis

This was written for THUC2022 with @ragsweas Finished

Frerin/Original Female Character

Oh Brother Where Art Thou

Rating: Teen and Up

In which an injured Prince Frerin finds himself in an unlikely position with his memories gone and surrounded by peculiar creatures with large feet and a fondness for being kind.

For the prompt: 25 - Injured and on his last leg, Frerin didn't know where to go after he was left on the battlefield of Khazad-dum. Part of The Hobbit an Unexpected Collaboration 2022 event.

This was written for THUC2022 with @biblophilefox82 Finished

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fizzyxcustard · 1 year

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One Night.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, sexual references, angst, heartbreak, insecurity.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "You spend the night with Thorin, and then out of insecurity, you leave him." Requested by @lathalea. Timeframe of post-BOTFA requested by @sotwk

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin was lay beside you, his breathing slow. You watched his chest rise and fall. His dark eyelashes fluttered and his eyes moved beneath their lids. He had fallen asleep not long after your final round of love making.

You sighed. He was so beautiful, and didn’t even know it.

The night had become full of tension, which had followed his coronation celebration. Of course you attended, being a close friend of the new king. For many months and you had travelled alongside him, helping and fighting for him to re-take the mountain kingdom of Erebor. Thorin had taken you aside, complimenting you on your attire for the celebration, his blue eyes alight for you. Your first kiss had been outside the main hall, in a cold, empty hallway. Everything else that had followed was back in his bed chamber. The two of you had snuck away, hand in hand, still stealing secret kisses along the hallways.

Never before had you ever been touched in such a way as how Thorin touched you. His hot skin sent intense vibrations through you. His gaze made your heart thunder, and pulsate in other parts of your body, acknowledging just how aroused you were. His voice made sighs slip off your tongue so effortlessly.

You kept your eyes on him as he slept, recollecting the beautiful memories of him opening his heart, soul and body to you. When he had first slipped inside you, he had been over you, his large hands holding your legs open. You had welcomed him so freely in those moments. However, in your second round of pleasure seeking, you had climbed on top of him. He was laid out beneath you, vulnerable, offering it all. Those hands had been clamped on your hips, guiding your movement as the two of you ascended higher towards that wonderful, earth shattering climax. The third and final time, Thorin had been behind you. His lips remained on your neck and shoulder, showing you that even when he could not see your face, he still adored you and admired your beauty.

This was all wrong. Thorin was the most amazing man you had ever met. And you were just mediocre. Nothing special or of substantial value. You looked upon his sleeping form, studying his slim lips which peeped from beneath his moustache. His beard was neatly trimmed, despite him now growing it longer after reclaiming Erebor. That was a promise he had made many years ago. Once the mountain was re-claimed and he would grow his beard back long, as was custom with the Longbeard Dwarves.

Slowly, and you slipped out of bed. There was an ache in your chest. You loved Thorin so much more than you could ever express, but you were not worthy of his hand. A royal Dwarf deserved someone of standing and position, not a commoner like yourself.

Tears fell down your cheeks, reminding you of the man you were originally pledged to many years ago. He had told you he loved you, showered you with gifts, but made it known through his behaviour that you meant very little to him. His actions did not speak louder than his words. And, of course, his attention then swept elsewhere. Thorin would no doubt do the same. Such a beautiful soul would never cherish you and mean it! If this man from your past could not love you, then surely Thorin couldn’t either.

But you had never been touched, kissed and made love to in such a way as that! Every movement made you quake beneath Thorin’s touch, and his whispers of adoration made you shiver. Maybe he just knew how to please women and had rehearsed the words many times.

You re-dressed and slipped out of the chamber, giving Thorin one last glance. The ache hit you hard once again and you placed your hand on your mouth, stifling the uncontrollable sobs.

The halls were quiet and dark, with only the faint light of torchlight guiding your way. And by the time you made it back to your room, you grabbed a quill, ink and parchment. Your hand shook as you tried to write, which meant that your normally laced handwriting became more squiggled. A tear fell onto the parchment, splashing, and caused a swirl of black ink to form under your signature.

***

Thorin woke, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He looked up at the ceiling of the room and sighed, recollecting the evening before. And as soon as he saw your face in his mind’s eye, he turned to see you had disappeared. He called your name into the gloom.

A dread hit him and his stomach twisted into a hard knot. Something was wrong.

Why would you disappear like this? Even though you could have just slipped back to your own bed chamber, Thorin felt something in the depth of his very being that told him that he would not find you there.

Thorin pulled on a robe, tying it at his waist, and made his way to your room, his mind full of questions. He didn’t even knock as he got to your door and let himself in, finding the room empty. A lump swelled in his throat. He approached your desk. A candle had been lit, and there under the flickering light, was a piece of parchment.

My dearest Thorin,

I cannot remain here. I do not belong. I will never be enough for you, my love. Go and find happiness. May Mahal bless you.

The letter was simple.

Thorin crumpled the letter in his hands, feeling a whole array of emotion wash over him. Terror and frustration seemed to form the knot in his stomach, which was now gaining momentum. Only the night before and Thorin had been on the verge of offering everything to you, a life together. That was all Thorin wanted. You, in every way. He thought that you had been willing to give yourself to him. You had even told him you loved him, shivered at his touch, become undone beneath him. The two of you had panted, sweat, groaned against each other. How could he just let all of that go?

He would not let you go.

He could not.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @luna-xial @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @rachel1959 @mrsdurin @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @for-fuck-sake-im-alive

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart @emmyspov @dumbassunderthemountain

Middle-earth tag list: @mismaeve @sotwk @emmyspov @valkyrie-of-the-light

The Hobbit tag list: @flowerniche

#richard armitage #thorin oakenshield #Thorin #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin x You #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield Fic #The Hobbit Fic

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sotwk · 8 months

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Behind the Scenes: SotWK's Writing Process

Welcome to a little "behind the scenes" of my attempts to keep my growing list of WIPS and story requests/ideas organized!

My Fic and HC Requests are (for the most part), always open, and open to Anons. Occasionally, I also invite requests in relation to writing events or games. Needless to say, I get quite a lot of requests, and I am both flattered and thrilled by that.

However, I also work full-time (albeit always in front of a computer), and I have two little kids (who attend preschool, whew), so I have much less time to focus on writing than most creators here.

But I love writing, and I love using it to make people happy even more. My rule is, I will accept any requests (that reasonably fall within my guidelines, but I can be flexible!) as long as you can wait patiently for me to deliver on them. I always give my best effort to make it worth your while, and I will never ignore your request or give up on it without checking with you first (yes, this includes Anons).

I have no wait list. I do not work on requests "in the order they were received". I work on whatever story speaks to and cooperates with me that day, and that means shuffling amongst up to five WIPs at a time. That's simply how my brain works, unfortunately.

All my fanfics / your requests are always, and forever will be, FREE. They're gifts I am honored to give.

I am constantly saying, "I'm working on it" or "It's on my list", and I would like to offer just a bit of proof of that. So, especially for those who have been waiting a long time (and those who might have to wait even longer), I present my Google Drive's Organized Chaos to show how I keep all those WIPs in check:

Drafts in Progress: Stories that are closest to completion, and the ones I am currently trying to focus on.

Drafts on Hold: Drafts that I have started, but have stalled, so they're on the back burner for now.

Headcanons: I usually draft my headcanon requests straight on Tumblr, but sometimes they go on here.

Ask Screenshots: Where I save Asks that I responded to/deleted, but I needed to save the text for the sake of notes. Also lovely Asks that I save for posterity.

Valentine Event: I received so many Asks for this event that it required its own folder.

Gifted Graphics: Always hoping for new contributions to this one! (not subtle enough?)

And now, for my Fic Tracker Spreadsheet, which tracks ALL Tolkien fics I write, both requests and my personal projects:

I redacted the "Requestor" column to preserve some surprises. I track the estimated "Status" aka percentage of completion as a way to motivate myself, because getting to that blessed 100% is the Holy Grail for me!

WIP: Every fic that's on the "front burner" and I'm actively fighting to complete.

Requests/Concepts: Contains details of all requests and ideas I have which will eventually jump into the WIP tab.

Valentine: Remember how I said I received so many responses to this event? Yeah. I'm still determined to finish them all, though!

To Read: Yup, I track all the fics of friends that I intent to read here, too. That's how important those are to me.

I truly hope all this info doesn't scare anyone off from sending in more requests! I hope this gives Readers/Followers a little more faith in me and show that I take all requests I receive very seriously. They are the most important part of what I do as a fanfic writer.

I may be slow, but I'm committed and determined!

If you have any questions about the above, or about your requests, I'm open! Please keep sending in requests! Thank you for your support and patience!

Link to my FANFIC REQUEST GUIDELINES

Tagging some of those folks who are currently waiting on requests: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @ladyweaslette @scyllas-revenge @lathalea @g-m-kaye @absentmindeduniverse @aduialel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @jordie-your-local-halfling @ladyk8tie @blueberryrock @the-phantom-of-arda @tamurilofrivendell @achromaticerebus @klytemnestra13 @glassgulls @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @guardianofrivendell @a-burr-a-hobbit @literary-eclair

#sotwk announcement #sotwk fanfiction #fanfiction requests #lotr #lotr fanfiction #the hobbit #tolkien #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #writer things #writer stuff

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legolasbadass · 2 years

Text

Undercurrents

Armitage Summer Splash - Prompt #29

Trope: Vacation/holiday

Quote: “I never thought we would find a way to each other.”

Relationship: Thorin x reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Light angst (I promise it’s nothing! This is an otherwise very fluffy fic)

A/N: LB writing about forbidden love again? Who would have thought!

Thank you to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for organizing this event! Here is a summer splash for the Armitage Summer Splash 🤣 (I stole this pun from @lathalea, as well as the title lol)

You dismounted your pony just after dark, when the lavender sky had nearly faded to gray, submerging you in the peaceful silence of the warm summer night. All around you, the forest was strangely quiet, in spite of the racket made by trees, frogs and water. You were beginning to worry you had somehow gotten lost—or that he would not come at all—when, as though out of a dream, the distant echo of branches cracking under hooves reached your ears. A smile floated to your lips, and a few moments later, your lover’s familiar frame emerged from the thicket, breathtakingly regal even in his worn travelling clothes.

When you told him of your worries as he dismounted his pony, a soft smirk graced his bearded face. “I am afraid I may have gotten lost,” he responded in that deep, rumbling voice that never failed to make your whole body melt. “I hope you have not been waiting for me too long, amrâlimê.”

A blush smeared your cheeks at the intimate word which you were still not used to hearing from those tempting lips. “No, not long,” you reassured him. Then, more shyly, you took a step toward him, the smell of pine and leather and musk that was uniquely his surrounding you, and said, “Though for a moment, I worried that you would not come—that someone had discovered our plan and stopped you from leaving your Halls.”

In response, Thorin closed the space between you and brought his large, calloused hands to cradle your face.

“I thought—I thought we would never find a way to each other,” you admitted past the sudden tightness in your throat.

You noticed guilt brewing behind Thorin’s intense azure gaze, but he gave you no time to speak as he leaned his forehead against yours and spoke words that made your heart swell tenfold. “We will always find a way to each other.”

You shared a soft, languid kiss beneath the moon, quite content to remain in this embrace until the end of time, but after a while, you could not help but speak the words Thorin hated to hear, but which you knew you could not ignore.

“My father will not change his mind. He would rather die than see his only daughter wed a poor, exiled king,” you spoke bitterly, using your father’s words which you despised so. Thorin might be poor and half a world away from his kingdom, but he was still the greatest leader to have walked this earth since Durin himself, and beyond that, you loved each other more than anything, and that should have been all that mattered.

“Even if it takes years, I will never give up,” Thorin said adamantly. “I am certain there must be something I can do or offer him in return that will make him change his mind.”

I will never consent to this union unless Lord Thorin reclaims Erebor.

For months now, your father had tortured you with these words, and whenever he asked you what Thorin thought of this proposition, you would find any excuse to change the subject, because how could you ever say such a thing to Thorin? You knew what his reaction would be. He would leave straight away, regardless of the danger, and you could not risk his life even for the prospect of becoming his wife. It was torture to pretend like you meant nothing to each other in public and wait weeks, even months sometimes, to spend a few moments together. But that torture would be nothing compared to the agony of living in a world without him, you were sure of it.

As though aware of how dark your thoughts had turned, Thorin pressed his lips against yours in another tender kiss, then said, “Let us put all that aside for the moment. We escaped Ered Luin to enjoy ourselves, did we not?”

The playful smirk that accompanied those words made you blush and chuckle. Then, in what you hoped was a seductive voice, you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I can hear water—there must be a stream nearby.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Thorin concurred. “It has been far too long since I have seen you naked, bunnelê.”

“Thorin!” You exclaimed and slapped his arm, even though your whole body grew warm instantly, and you could not deny that it had been far too long since you had seen him naked, nor that you had experienced the most scandalous and deprived dreams in your prolonged separation.

It did not take you long to find the stream. It ran through a clearing, its calm surface reflecting the starry sky and the bright full moon. The rocks on the side were still warm from the sun, and as you stepped over them and reached out toward the water, you realized with a smile that the water was just pleasantly warm.

When you turned back around to face Thorin, it was with a soft smirk as you reached for the laces of your coat. His eyes darkened considerably as he took in your every move, and when at last you freed your body from the fabric of your undergarments, exposing your curves to the silver light of the moon and Thorin’s starved gaze, he let out a low growl that made your whole body sigh with need. Heat tightened your belly, but it was the tender words Thorin whispered that brought a smile to your lips as you undressed him with careful but eager hands.

Oh, yes, it had been far too long indeed since you had rested your eyes upon your lover’s magnificent body. From his broad, powerful chest to the slim taper of his waist and his thick, muscled thighs, Thorin’s body was the body of a warrior. And yet, it aroused in you the most tender thoughts and the desire to kiss every inch of him—to be held and loved by him until the end of time. With gentle fingers, you reached out to him, the coarse hairs on his chest equally arousing and reassuring as you caressed him, revelling in the sensations you had been deprived of far too long. Your fingers skimmed over a scar he had suffered at Azanulbizar, and the sight of it propelled you to throw yourself into his arms. Every scar was a reminder you could have lost him, but they were also a reminder of how precious moments like these with him were, and you wordlessly thanked Mahal for this night and your lover. Your Thorin.

You shared a myriad of tender kisses before you led him into the water. It was cold for only the slightest moment before you acclimatized to the temperature, Thorin’s strong body against yours warming you instantly. Once you had fully submerged yourself and felt refreshed, you wrapped your arms around Thorin’s neck. His wet hair stuck to his head, water rivulets dripping from the ends to stream down the valley of his chest, and when you reached out to kiss him once more, his damp beard against yours made you shiver. When you were both breathless, you pulled away, though you remained in your tight embrace as Thorin leaned his forehead against yours, his cerulean eyes even more heavenly than the starry sky above you.

“We should come here more often,” he said, one of his large hands moving upwards from your back to caress your hair.

“You will have to help me come up with new excuses for my absences, then. I am running out of ideas,” you admitted, pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips. “Where did you say you were off to this time?”

“I told everyone I was going hunting,” he said, “though I doubt they will be pleased when they see that I have caught nothing but a beautiful dwarrowdam.”

You raised your eyebrows, trying your best not to laugh.

“That sounded better in my head,” Thorin said in response to your expression, causing you to chuckle. “I am afraid you make me lose my head, amrâlimê.”

“Then I am gladly at fault,” you replied with a soft smile before claiming his lips once more, and there was no more talking for a long while as you gave in to your longing and passion, the forest and the moon the only witnesses to your love.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Amrâlimê: My Love

Bunnelê: My treasure of all treasures

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!💙

#the hobbit #thorin #thorin fanfic #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #armitage summer splash

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middleearthpixie · 15 days

Text

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Four

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

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Warnings: Some violence (nothing graphic)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k

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

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

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

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

@jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321

@dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith

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

@night-ace

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

Previous chapters can be found here.

Although it had been a year since she’d been on the Long Lake, Sophie felt as if only days had passed since she lived there, in the drafty house with its leaky roof and rooms that all pitched to the left.

Roughly half of Esgaroth had been restored, and while none of the buildings were inhabited, according to both Thorin and Bard, Sophie knew she would find Sten and knew exactly where she would find him as well.

Their house had been at the southern end of Esgaroth, tucked between the fish market where Sten sold his catch, and another house and it was there that she stood, staring up at the new structure, finished save for windows. The scents of cedar and pine mingled with the cold, somewhat brackish smell of the lake water, and had she not been so nervous, she might have heard the gentle lap of the water against the new pilings and bulkheads. Instead, all she heard was the thundering of her heart.

A toolbox stood just to the side of the doorway, although the house had no door yet. Still, as she stepped over the threshold, she heard the sounds of someone moving about. The houses were all the same, the first floor was normally a mudroom of sorts, a place where oilskins, boots, winter coats and the like would be stored. A narrow staircase to her right would take her above, to the main floor. There, she would find a kitchen and great room combined, a small privy, and toward the rear of the house, two small bedrooms.

It took every bit of will she possessed to force her feet to obey and propel her up those narrow stair treads. As she emerged into the kitchen, she saw a familiar pair of boots in the doorway. Battered, scuffed, one held together with a strip of leather wound about it.

Sten’s boots.

Of its own volition, her hand found its way into the small satchel she carried, her fingers curling about the knife handle. She slipped it free, drew in a deep breath, and called, “I know you’re here.”

“Why?”

Her blood ran cold at the familiar, softly menacing tone of Sten’s voice. She’d learned that the greater his fury, the calmer he sounded, and while he didn't exactly sound calm, she was wary just the same.

“I could ask you the same.”

“Come here.”

“No.” She tightened her grip on the knife. “You come here.”

He appeared in the doorway between the great room and the short hallway that would lead to the bedrooms and she fought the urge to gasp at the sight of him.

Tall and handsome and blond and I thought he was utterly perfect. That was how she’d described him to Thorin and once upon a time, that had been true.

Once upon a time.

Now, however, Sten’s once-handsome face was lopsided, no doubt from its meeting with her cast iron pan a year earlier. He bore distinct burn scars on his face as well, although, in a darkened alley to a frightened little girl, they might not have been noticeable.

“Surprise to see me, are you?”

“Why are you here again?” She took a step closer, but made certain to remain beyond his reach. “What do you want from us?”

“I want my wife. My daughter.”

“Your wife and daughter. Don't make me laugh, Sten. You were going to kill me that night, weren’t you?”

“I was wrong, my love. So terribly wrong.”

“Do not call me that, for we both know it to be a lie. I don’t believe you, not a single word of what you say.”

“You should, for I speak true.”

“No.” She shook her head, trying to will her arms and legs to stop quaking so badly. She didn't want him to see any hint of fear for if he did, he would pounce. “You need to leave us alone, Sten. I want you to leave us alone. I want you to give me a divorce and go on your merry way.”

“So you might continue thinking you’ll be queen of Erebor?” A chilly laugh followed his words. “Think you I didn't hear about that? That I didn't hear about you and the Mad King. You’ve exposed my daughter to that madman? I could not, in good conscience, leave Heather with you. Who knows what the mad king would do to her if I did.”

The very thought of Thorin ever harming Heather was a laughable one, but Sophie kept her expression neutral. She would not give anything away to him. Not any more. “The mad king? Hardly. We both know the only madman here is you, Sten. You need to let us go.”

“No. I will not let you go so you can go running back to that runt!”

“Why? You’ve made yourself perfectly clear in how you see me, in how you see Heather.”

“She is mine. You are mine.”

“No, Sten,” she shook her head slowly, “we are not yours. Heather deserves better than a father who does not trouble to hide his disdain for her.”

“So the dwarf can not only slip into your bed, but into my role as her father?”

“Thorin is good to her. He doesn’t yell at her for doing what children do, for laughing too loudly or being afraid of something. He makes time for her and treats her as she should be treated. Can you say the same?”

“She is weak and addled, like her mother.”

“See? And do you honestly wonder why I want out of this marriage? Because I do, Sten, and I will be free of you for once and for all.”

Some of the ice left his pale eyes and he took a step backward. “I’ve really ruined things, haven’t I? I—I don't even know why I said the things I did, or why I did the things I did…. I just… I just loved you so much, Sophie. And it always seemed that I could never give you what you truly deserved, the life you should have had.” He shook his head. “Do you know how that feels? To know the person you’re with deserves so much more and you’ll never be able to give it to her?”

For a moment, she almost believed him to be sincere. He certainly looked and sounded it. At least, he did to one who didn't know him. But Sophie knew him.

And believed not a word he spoke.

“It’s too late, Sten. I am not so trusting as I once was.” She drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and said, “I want a divorce and you will grant me one.”

He stared at her for a long moment, but then slowly shook his head. “I don't think I’ll be doing that, Sophie. In fact, I think I will come by Erebor ’round sundown and collect my daughter as well.”

“We are not going anywhere with you. And the idea of you forcing the gatekeeper to do your bidding is laughable.”

Sten offered up a slow smile. “Think rather highly of yourself, do you? Did you fail to notice I mentioned Heather and not you?”

With that, he stepped closer and she instinctively stepped back at the same time. “You are not getting within a league of her, Sten. So, whatever insane idea you have about how this will end will never come to pass.”

“It’s a funny thing about this lake, love,” he replied softly, shaking his head as if filled with regret. “People have a way of falling into it and never being seen again. Isn’t that what you told people? That I went out on the lake and simply never came home?”

He kept approaching and she kept backing up, mindful of the narrow staircase directly behind her. “You have no idea how I wished that would actually happen.”

“You tried your best.” He gestured to the misshapen side of his head. “But you failed. You’ve failed at everything you’ve tried to do, haven’t you? Failed as a wife. As a mother. As a woman.”

She slipped the knife from her pocket. “Do not take another step.”

He glance down at it, then looked back up, a laugh coming to his lips. “You haven’t the nerve.”

“Do not test me. I will do what I have to, to keep Heather safe, to keep her away from you.”

“Is that so?”

He dove at her, and she swung, the tip of the knife’s blade catching him in the shoulder. Not that it mattered, as he drove his shoulder into her stomach and sent her reeling backward. The knife clattered to the floor as Sophie made a frantic grab for the moulding about the doorway. Her nails scratched along the wood to no avail as she crashed down along the risers, pain bursting through her shoulder and her hip as she crumpled to the floor at the foot of the staircase.

Pain radiated through her, starbursts erupting before her eyes as she fought to keep them open. Above her, the stair treads creaked as Sten descended toward her. “You little fool,” he said, his voice low and flat. “A more worthless woman never lived.”

Her head ached. Her vision swam. Slowly, she untangled herself and tried to sit, scooting back across the fresh, smooth wood toward the front door. Sten held her knife loosely, but she had no delusions that she would be able to wrest it from him again.

Pulling herself up to her feet, she bit back a cry as pain burst through her right ankle and when she placed that foot on the floor, it refused to bear weight. She gripped the wall, sweat breaking out across her back as she stared at him.

“Why won’t you just leave us be?” Her words came more easily as her head slowly began to clear. “If I am so worthless, why are you even troubling with me?”

“Because you are mine and no man, not even the runt king, takes what is mine.”

The knife blade glinted as the sun reflected off the water and as Sten shifted to lower it, Sophie lunged for the toolbox, her fingers brushing, then curling about the somewhat rough handle of the hammer laying atop it.

She came up swinging with every bit of might she could muster and Sten let out a howl at the sickening crunch of the hammer’s head striking his. She caught him along the jaw, pain flaring through her hand, her wrist, but she held on, tightening her fingers about that handle as he stumbled back into the stairs, a hand clasped to his chin, blood dribbling over his bottom lip.

Footsteps thundered along the wood to the north and while she ignored them, Sten must have expected her to turn to see who was coming, for he dove at her once more.

Without thinking, she spun to her left and he shot past her, reeling forward to topple into the lake with a loud splash.

“You bitch!” he sputtered, swimming back toward the bulkhead. “I will kill you this time.”

He grabbed the edge of the bulkhead, but as he tried pulling himself up, she swung again. And again. And again. She kept swinging even as both Thorin and Dwalin came around the corner.

Thorin caught her by the wrist with one hand and around the waist with his free arm to pull her back. “Easy, amrâlimê,” he whispered as she tried to fight him, tried to keep swinging, “it’s over, love… it’s over…”

The hammer hit the wood at their feet and she collapsed against him, her tears infuriating but unstoppable as she buried her fingers in the fur of his coat and clung to him as if for life itself.

“Get her back to Erebor,” she heard Dwalin growl. “I’ll take care of what’s left of him.”

Sophie’s stomach clenched and curdled at the same time, a sour taste flooding her mouth. She fought down the rising nausea, shaking her head as she whispered, “He was going to take Heather… I—I could—I couldn't let—let him get h—her…”

“Shhh…” Thorin swung her easily into his arms and moved away from the edge of the bulkhead. “You’ve nothing to worry about now, mesmel. He cannot hurt either of you again…”

Exhaustion and pain wound together to make keeping her eyes open impossible, so she let them close as she tucked her head against his chest. A sense of relief swelled, taking some of the edge off her pain.

It was over.

Finally.

Sophie sucked in a sharp breath as Narnerra gently prodded her swollen left ankle. “I beg your pardon,” the healer said as she looked up, “how did this happen?”

“I fell down a flight of stairs.” Sophie clenched her teeth as Narnerra continued her examination. She was so tired, all she wished to do was sleep, but Thorin was insisted that Narnerra look her over and told the healer so in no uncertain terms before leaving the infirmary.

He would not say where he was going, but he didn't have to. She knew. Esgaroth. Any moment now and Bard would be coming looking for her.

This time she had no doubt at all that she’d killed Sten. She might have failed the first time. She did not fail this time. And if she was honest with herself, she was not the least bit sorry, either. It had to be done. She had to protect Heather.

She had to protect herself.

“I don't think it’s broken,” Narnerra said, straightening up. “But rather a nasty sprain. We’ll splint it and I’ll recommend you remain off your feet for the next fortnight.”

Sophie nodded. “I can still work with Bifur, then.”

“No, you will rest, Sophie. I daresay Bifur and the others will all understand.” Narnerra moved to her supply cupboard, returning a few minutes later with what she needed to splint Sophie’s injured ankle.

“How are you otherwise?” the healer asked softly as she set to work.

“I’m… tired… and—and sore.” Sophie replied slowly, wrapping her arms about herself as a chill settled about her. “And I’m so cold… I can’t seem to shake it.”

“The stress of the moment.” Narnerra crossed over to the cupboard once more, this time returning with a blanket she draped about Sophie’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“I’d rather not say.”

Narnerra’s blue eyes were sharp. “He had it coming, Sophie. Do not think for one moment you did anything wrong, for you didn’t.”

She shot the healer a look. “I’m afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“You do. And if I were there, I’d have helped you.” Narnerra bent back over her ankle and no more words passed between them as she finished wrapping it.

“How does she fare?”

Sophie’s heart skipped a beat as Thorin came into the room that served as the royal family’s quarters in the infirmary. Narnerra looked up and nodded. “She’s shaken up, but in one piece. Nothing is broken or fractured, just bruised or sprained.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Narnerra crossed to the door. “I’ll be back in a moment to give you something for the pain, Sophie.”

Sophie managed a smile. “Thank you, Narnerra. For everything.”

Narnerra bobbed her head. “Of course.”

As the door swung closed behind Narnerra, Thorin came around to face her. “How are you truly faring?”

“I’ve had better days,” she admitted softly.

“I know.” He reached out to smooth her hair away from her face. “I’ve been to see Bard. It seems there was a terrible accident out on the Long Lake. I’m afraid Sten Asharm fell into the water and drowned.”

“Thorin…”

“He’s gone, mesmel,” he murmured, curving his hand against her cheek, his thumb brushing gently along it. “This time, for good. He will not trouble you again.”

“I thought that once before.”

“Trust me. He is not coming back this time.”

Sophie pulled the blanket more tightly about herself. “And will I face any charges?”

“For his accident?” Thorin shook his head. “No. As Bard said, sometimes accidents cannot be avoided. And the lake doesn’t always give up its dead, so in all likelihood, no one will ever know exactly what happened to him.”

“Give up its dead.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the iciness that filled her with those words. “How do I live with knowing this?”

“You had no choice, Sophie,” he told her, his voice low and stern. “He would have killed you, had he gotten up on that dock. You did what you had to do. No one would fault you for that.”

“Still…”

“No,” he shook his head, “no still. You did. It’s that simple.” As he spoke, he caught her face in his hands, tilting it to his. “You had no choice, mesmel. None.”

“I know, but—”

“No. No but,” he cut her off gently. “You had no choice. And if you hadn’t have done it, I most definitely would have. No one lays a finger on you while I live and pays no price for it. No one.”

Tears stung her eyes at the quiet ferocity in his voice. “Thorin, I—”

“Let’s get you back to your chambers, mesmel. Heather is out in the paddock with Fífi, but they will be coming in for supper soon. What do you wish to tell her?”

“I don't know yet. I—I have to think about it.”

He nodded as Narnerra came back into the room. “I told her to remain off that ankle for a fortnight, Your Majesty.”

“And I will make certain she does.”

“Good. You need to rest, Sophie. You’ve earned it.”

“I will. I will.” Sophie managed to smile as her shock slowly eased. Thorin was right. Narnerra was right. She’d had no choice.

She’d done what she absolutely had to do and that was that.

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

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