#post botfa

[morningnoodles]

BotFA post credit scene was so good i had to draw it ❤

#bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #the hobbit fanart #post botfa #thorin x bilbo #my art ☆

[lonelyvermonster]

There, But Never Really Back

TW: Mentions of death and PTSD

While watching The Hobbit I began to think about what it must have been like for Bilbo after he returned home. The books and movies don't talk about the trauma. How much of bilbos life must have been different after the quest. The other hobbits talk about how reclusive he becomes in his later years, but I want to know more from bilbos side.

How terrifying it must have been for Bilbo the first night he slept in his own bed; finally safe again, only to awake screaming. Blood and fire and dead blue eyes haunting him. I wonder how many years it took Bilbo before he no longer carried Sting everywhere he went. How much longer still before he stopped needing to check to make sure that horrifying blue glow didn't come back. It may not have been present in the books or the movie, but Sting gained a permanent place next to Bilbo's bed.

It didn't take long for Bilbo to pull away from everyone else but it's only because how could he possibly expect them to understand. How could the innocent hobbits who have never known war and death be able to understand the haunted look in his eyes? How odd he must have seemed. The only Hobbit who wouldn't eat any stew at the gatherings and parties. The only Hobbit who shrunk away from hugs because being grabbed was no longer comforting.

Do you think the first time someone tried to pull him into a hug he was overtaken with fear, Thorin's name slipping from his lips?

Do you think Bilbo noticed the way people would stare at him? The Hobbit's may have noticed him pull away, but I don't think they noticed the rest. They may have heard about trolls and dragons, but they didn't know about the sickly little creature he found in that cave. They didn't know about the nights he would wake up frightened, eyes searching for the shadows for Gollum. His neighbors didn't notice how he froze up the first time he heard a little hobbitling ask for some "eggsies". He still spun the occasional riddle but there were some he never repeated again.

Then there is the protectiveness that often comes from the trauma of watching others die.

How odd it must have been for Merry and Pippin's parents to watch Bilbo fiercely defend them against those who disapproved of their pranks and yet in the next breath berate them for the danger they put themselves in. The first time the boys got hurt bilbo could barely stand to see them; the image of two young dwarves who he had loved like family all his mind could see.

God how much worse that must have been when Frodo came along.

Dark black curls and bright blue eyes. Just close enough to haunt him. When that little hobbitling came into his life, how much of his decision to take him in was because he looked like Thorin? How many nights did Bilbo peak his head into Frodo's room to reassure himself that Frodo was alive and breathing, rather than laying on a stone slab? He protected him the way he could not protect his dwarf. Yet he also never bought him a single piece of clothing that was blue.

He filled that hobbit hole with greens and yellows and browns. Never blue. That color was perhaps the deepest tie to the pain he carried. Blue fabric, blue eyes, blue light; all capable of spiraling him into a pit of hellish memories. There were days he could not even bear to go outside because even the blue of the sky was too much.

Because at the end of the day Gandalf was right.

Bilbo was not the same, and he never would be again.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #lord of the rings #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit bilbo #thorin oakenshield #thorin #lotr frodo #frodo baggins #fili and kili #merry and pippin #merry brandybuck #pippin took #post botfa #ptsd #gandalf #tolkien dwarves #tolkien #j r r tolkien #the hobbit movies #the rings of power #desolation of smaug #middle earth #nightmares #flashbacks #life after trauma #line of durin #kili durin #fili durin

[consultingpacha]

A silly little something I sketched a while ago 😅 Bilbo u dumbass

#bagginshield #my art #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #hobbit #fanart #erebor #post botfa

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

~Best of Intentions~

Chapter 18-

****************

Several weeks later …

Mistlynn was snuggled further into her soft pillows as she felt the suns warm rays fall upon her face. She stretched leisurely, before turning around to feel towards Thorin's side. The sheets were cold, only a faint lingering of his smokey scent still present on his pillow. Her brow furrowed as she slowly opened her eyes. Although their honeymoon was over, he had never woken up and left without giving her a kiss goodbye.

Mistlynn pushed herself up on her elbows, confused. She squinted as she peered out into the bright morning light. She could see the ravens flying back and forth in front of the window, as they prepared for their day.

She couldn't remember if Thorin had anything of importance scheduled for that day, especially since it was a Sunday. She pushed the heavy blankets back and placed her feet onto the cold stone floor, causing her to shiver as her body protested the adjustment. Autumn was upon them.

Mistlynn reached for her heavy robe and threw it on quickly. As she began to unravel her hair from its braid, the sound of soft music echoed into the room. She paused her movement as the music flowed in. She had never heard such music before, and it seemed to be coming from the living quarters of their suite.

She silently made her way towards the door. The melody was eerily familiar, like a distant dream it awakened within her the voice she had been forced to keep hidden within her. It was a lullaby her mother used to sing them she realized, and a sudden rush of bittersweet emotion flooded her.

She peered around the doorway and saw Thorin seated in one of their plush chairs, with a golden instrument placed between his knees and tilted up against his shoulder. His fingers danced across the strings, the source of the beautiful music. It was unlike any instrument she had ever seen.

She noticed he was also lost within the music he was creating, and the long-forgotten need to sing fluttered in her stomach. She found herself closing her eyes as her body began to sway in time with the melody. Faint, distorted memories surged up unbidden of her mother's face and hauntingly beautiful voice. She hadn't been able to conjure a memory of her mother for many years. And for the first time, since she was a young child, she lost herself to the music.

*****************

Thorin

He had awoken early with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as a slight sweat made the sheets of the bed cling to his chest. He grimaced as he ran a hand over his face. He looked over at Mistlynn who was still sleeping peacefully and sighed in relief. His nightmare had been disturbing, and he was not ready to share that part of his past yet. He had felt Mistlynn stir next to him as he fought to control the shaking of his body as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

He couldn't allow her to see him like that. He was still reeling from the discovery of his grandfather's journal and of the disturbed ramblings. He leaned up against the headboard, breathing heavily as he ran a shaking hand through his sweat dampened hair. First the journal, now these confusing night terrors. He had to speak to Balin about this. But he couldn't bring himself to. Not yet. Just a few more days of peace.

He looked over at his sleeping wife, and he felt his anxiety loosen its grip on him. His gaze caressed her silhouette, her pale skin flawless and barely wrapped in the white silken sheet. He leaned down, allowing himself to nuzzle her neck before placing a loving kiss to her bare shoulder. She stirred slightly, his name escaping her lips as a contented sigh. He breathed her in, her scent and warmth soothing him. He smiled against her soft skin as he felt her surrender to sleep fully once again before he pulled himself away to slip out of bed without disturbing her.

He didn't dream of Frerin and Vili often, but when he did it was heart wrenching, no matter the many decades that had passed since they last walked among the living.

They had been there, during the time he would rather forget. But it was too soon, and the guilt was too fresh, especially since Bilbo was still visiting. He was happy that their friend had agreed to stay for the winter and travel home in the spring, but with every interaction, every meal and conversation the ice-cold voice of doubt and guilt whispered to him how close he had been to killing his friend over that accursed stone that was now locked away in the deepest crevices of the treasury vaults.

Instead of Dwalin and Bilbo, it had been Frerin and Vili standing before him in the newly reclaimed throne room, as he sat adorned in his deceased grandfather's godly royal robes. He could feel the cold, heavy pressure of the Raven crown sitting on his head. They had glared at him accusingly. The dragon sickness had vanished, its suffocating presence and serpent like hiss no longer had its deadly coils wrapped around his consciousness. He had begged and pleaded for forgiveness before their unforgiving gaze as they continued to stare down at him as he collapsed onto his knees.

"Please, I beg you. Forgive me." He rasped as he fought back the tears he felt burning behind his eyes. "I brought them home. We are home now."

"You are just like him." Frerin's pale lips moved, the hardness of his voice cutting Thorin to the very core of his being.

He shook his head desperately. "No Frer, No I am not him. I am nothing like him."

"You are a slave to that stone, just like our grandfathers were. There is no hiding from it, it is in your blood." Frerin pointed at him reproachfully. "It is not ours to keep, yet you hold on to it still. Do you think locking it away truly vindicates the bloodstains on our family name?"

"Tell me what I need to do?" He begged. "Tell me what I need to do, and I shall do it."

"Give it to the one who is meant to wield it." Vili's voice echoed in the massive cavern. "Or it will destroy you all."

Thorin was breathing heavily as an unsettling cold began to seep into him. "What … what do you mean wield it. It is a stone. A gem. Not a weapon."

Frerin and Vili both seemed to waiver, as if they were mirages in his fevered mind. Both images of his brothers flickered, distorting as his ears began to ring, "She is the heart, Thorin. Do not lose her. Only she can bring about the balance that was lost to our people."

Thorin sat back on his heels, staring in confusion as he watched them disappear, slowly disintegrating into glowing flakes of ash and smoke. "No." he breathed as he stumbled back to his feet, pulling Orcist from its sheath as the ash flurried and grew into a familiar shape. Serpent like eyes stared down at him menacingly as a blood curdling voice surrounded him.

"You cannot escape destiny, Thorin Oakenshield." Smaug hissed as smoldering ash became fiery red embers as a likeness of the fire drake manifested before his eyes. "You were never supposed to awaken from the sickness. You were supposed to be his to control."

Thorin bared his teeth in rage as his grip tightened on the hilt of Orcist. "I belong to no one!"

The image of Smaug cackled. "You cannot stop what is coming! You and all of your kin will perish. He will claim what is rightfully his!"

He felt his body shake with a thunderous fury. "I'll stand in your way. As I always have." His eyes glowed, like the deep waters of the sea ablaze with the orange fire of the setting sun. Black whisps of smoke and ash whipped around the flame body of Smaug.

“You will fall, in eternal shame, as your father and grandfather before you." The fire drake reared up, his black wings of smoke flaring out before lunging towards the enraged Dwarf King.

Thorin launched himself toward his reincarnated foe, Orcist held aloft and aimed toward the blackened heart of the beast. He could feel the heat of the raging fire drake as he sprinted towards him, prickling his skin as he drew closer with each passing second. Just as he was about to clash, to sink his sword into the drakes body, he felt as if he was dragged from his dream with a vice like grip. It was then that he had reeled awake, sweat beaded along his skin as his heart raced.

He had washed himself quickly, eager to chase away the evidence of his nightmare from his skin. He dressed quietly before slipping out of the bedroom and into the main living area. It wasn't long before he had a fire blazing in the fireplace. He made several attempts to read through waiting correspondence before he gave that up. His mind was still in shambles from his nightmare, its hidden meaning lost to him. He sighed as he leaned back into his chair, rubbing his face wearily as he tried to quiet his mind.

He stared into the fire for a few moments before his gaze wandered over to his old harp, sitting in the corner of the room. The desire to play welled up inside him. He couldn't remember when he had last played. He found himself sitting back down in front of the fire with the instrument leaning against him. He let his fingers drift over the strings, softly strumming the cords before he lost himself in the music.

He was brought back to the present when he heard an angelic voice join in with one of his Amad's favorite lullabies she used to sing to him and his siblings. He looked up, his fingers faltering slightly in shock as he watched Mistlynn sway in time with the melody he was playing. Her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped around herself as she sang along, her voice carrying with a soul searing power that reverberated in the room around them.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as the words fell from her lips flawlessly, the pure beauty of her voice hypnotizing him as he watched a whole new side of her unravel and bloom right before his very eyes. He felt his skin prickle as goosebumps erupted along his arms clear up to the nape of his neck as her voice carried the last notes in perfect harmony as their music faded, sinking into the walls of the mountain that surrounded them.

His mouth agape, he placed his harp upright as he slowly stood from his seat. She opened her eyes, blinking as if awakening from a trance. "I didn't know you could play such music. What kind of instrument is that? It is so beautiful." She smiled softly as she watched him approach her.

Thorin couldn't help but chuckle. "That was a harp. And I am very out of practice, you, on the other hand…" he trailed off as he linked his hands with hers. "Mistlynn…your voice…I had no idea you could sing like that."

Her smile grew bashful as she shrugged. "Oh, I haven't sung since I was a young child. Since before my mother died." Her smile faded slightly as her eyes became shadowed with a deep sadness. "My father didn't like me singing. He forbade me to do so after she passed on. She was teaching me. That lullaby was one of the last songs she taught me."

"Your father forbade you from singing?" Thorin couldn't believe what she was telling him. He fought to conceal the anger that began to well up inside of him. The idea of her father subduing her gifts from the Valar incensed him. He was determined to help her out of this protective shell she had erected around herself,

She shrugged again, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the topic. "I think it reminded him too much of my mother." She wrapped her arms around his neck, brushing her nose against his. "I would sing when I was alone of course, but as I got older, I just got too busy. Hearing you play that lullaby made me want to sing for the first time in decades. You play beautifully."

Thorin chuckled as he pulled her closer, his hands resting possessively on her waist. "Your performance was much more impressive M'eudail. But thank you." He nuzzled his nose with hers teasingly before capturing her smiling lips in an alluring kiss. Her giggle quickly became a muffled squeal as he pulled her back towards the chair he had been sitting on and directly into his lap. "Any other hidden talents you are keeping from me Kurdunuh?" He growled playfully into her neck as his hands wandered over the silk nightdress that hugged her body.

"You are one to talk, your royal stubbornness." She gasped in mock offense as she pressed her hands into his shoulders, forcing him to sit back so that she could see the teasing smirk on his face.

His hands fell to rest on the top of her bare thighs, allowing him to trace invisible patterns with his fingertips. He relished the delicious flush of pink that dusted her chest and the apples of her cheeks as she tried to squirm against his ministrations.

"I am not the one hiding a voice that could bring Mahal himself to his knees."

"I wasn't hiding it. The opportunity to share never presented itself." She shrugged. "Now, should we head down to breakfast?"

Her stomach fluttered in eager anticipation as she watched his smirk transform into a lecherous grin. "It is terrible form to skip right to second breakfast."

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at him in confusion. "We haven't had breakfast yet?" She couldn't help the squeak that escaped her lips as he jumped up from the chair, trapped in his arms before pinning her down on the couch, trapping her body under his.

"We have yet to indulge in our first breakfast." His lustful growl made her gasp as she felt his hands slip under her nightgown and travel up slowly, teasing her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I am ravenous for you above all else." He breathed hotly into her ear before teasing her earlobe with his teeth.

It wasn't surprising to anyone when breakfast was missed by the newlyweds.

**********

"So, how is married life treating you?" Bilbo smiled knowingly as he walked with Thorin along the carved path of the garden.

He had never seen Thorin so relaxed, a heart lifting exuberance radiated from the Dwarf King. He watched his friend smile with an ease he had only ever seen on Fili before a bashful huff of a laugh escaped him. "It is … very good." He looked down at the hobbit, who was chucking while he puffed on his pipe.

A couple, skillfully smoke circles floated ahead of them. "Good indeed." Bilbo chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I would be greatly disturbed by the constant smile on your face."

"I do not walk around with a smile on my face." Thorin groused as he forced a grumpy scowl on his face. He succeeded to hold the scowl for only a few moments before he had to press his lips together to stop the smile threatening to take over his face once again. Bilbo laughed heartedly as he watched the Dwarf King's trademark scowl give away into a rueful grin.

"You have it bad my friend." Bilbo chortled as he shook his head. "Not that it's a bad thing. It is very good indeed. You and your people deserve this, Thorin."

Thorin looked down at his feet as he stopped walking, his smile fading slightly as he turned to face Bilbo.

"I fear it is the calm before the storm Bilbo. My people are still scattered throughout all Arda, and the alliance between the seven dwarven kingdoms is still in shambles. Some of the dwarven lords are not happy with my marriage to Mistlynn, two of which have refused to answer any correspondence since we retook Erebor, and I claimed the throne."

Bilbo cocked his head to the side as he studied Thorin, his mouth playing with his pipe. "They came when you called that meeting before the Quest?"

Thorin nodded. "They were not thrilled then, and it's obvious they still very much opposed to my claim."

"Are they not supposed to swear their allegiance to you? Being the descendant of Durin the Deathless?"

Thorin shrugged, his good-natured smile now completely gone. "That was the way of it, with my forefathers and theirs. My Irak'adad's infliction with the Arkenstone put a strain on many of our alliances. It fostered feelings of resentment amongst our people, and that only grew after the slaughter of our armies in the Battle of Azanulbizar. We are no longer a united people. And my One being of an unknown clan with a mixed heritage didn't help inspire much confidence in my ability to lead."

Bilbo frowned. "Didn't inspire confidence? What! You reclaimed Erebor! You fought against Smaug, defeated Azog and his army, you reestablished your alliances with Mirkwood and Dale …" He shook his head in irritation. "You were strong enough to fight against the influence of the Arkenstone."

Thorin shook his head. "It still affected me Bilbo and I have made many mistakes." He sighed heavily. "I don't allow myself to enter the treasury, I have the Arkenstone locked away deep in the mountain vaults. That is not a secret. No matter what I do, my Irak'adad's indiscretions keep making a reappearance." The admittance was bitter on his tongue, making him grimace. "During our honeymoon, I found one of my Irak'adad's journals." He began, his voice deep and heavy with some unspoken burden. He turned towards one of the benches that was placed alongside the garden walkway. He sat down and placed his elbows on his knees.

Bilbo cocked an eyebrow as he took a deep pull from his pipe. He sat down next to Thorin and let more smoke rings escape his mouth. He looked at Thorin's defeated pose before he nudged him with his shoulder and held out his pipe in offering. Thorin raised his head from his hands and looked at the pipe. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, much to Bilbo's relief. Thorin took a deep inhale from the pipe, held it deep in his chest, then let it out. He felt the tension leave him, as if escaping on the faint autumn breeze along with the exhaled smoke.

"Have you told Balin about it?" Bilbo asked, his tone neutral.

Thorin sighed again as he handed Bilbo back his pipe. "No. I've told no one."

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. "It was that bad huh?"

Thorin shook his head again. "The beginning was perfectly fine, but then the dragon sickness started to take hold, And his paranoia took on a whole new life." Thorin swallowed thickly. "It was really hard to read."

Bilbo was quiet, as he watched Thorin sit up straighter in his seat as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "A lot of it didn't make sense. Towards the end of the journal, from what I could tell, he got a letter delivered by some sort of bird he had never seen before. It was from a Dwarf King in the North, demanding the return of the Iklal Kurdu or he would march on Erebor and take it by force. That it was his kin's right to wield it. The timeline of the entry explains a lot of things… according to the date of the entry it was right before Thranduil came to collect his wife's necklace. And my Irak'adad denied his claim. He also became suspicious of the other Dwarf Lords; our alliances became strained after that as well. My Adad and I never could figure out what caused it. Now I know"

"Did this Dwarf King give his name?"

"Varric. He didn't give a name of his kingdom. But if he threatened war… he had some military backing."

Bilbo nodded, his mind churning with all this new information. "What is the Iklal Kurdu?"

Thorin shook his head again. "It means 'Cold Heart' in our tongue." He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "I've never heard of it."

"It must be terribly important if one King threatens another over it." Bilbo mused. "Do you have any idea what it could be?"

"I don't. It has to be a weapon of some kind. My family weapons have all been smithed by our own hands, we have nothing that has an unknown origin, especially in the time of my grandfather. Any weapon not made by dwarf hands was forbidden."

"That is a strange name for a weapon." Bilbo tapped his pipe against his chin thoughtfully. Thorin snorted in amusement.

"My thought exactly. Not a typical name for a weapon used in battle. I've had Ori go over records of our weapons, the ones that have gained notoriety amongst my people. He has found nothing that comes close to that name or description."

"What Dwarven Kingdoms are in the North?"

"The Grey Mountains. But they were settled by my forefathers. Dragons and Orcs were too much to fight off, so they came back here to Erebor and others to the Iron Hills. We have some mining camps farther North but that's it. No kingdoms have been established outside of Durin's folk, and they are loyal to me."

Bilbo hummed as he let out another couple smoke rings. "What about the White Kingdom." The hobbit let the question hang in the air, and it quickly became heavy between them. "Mistlynn was their princess correct? What is her father's name?"

Thorin blinked as he silently berated himself for not even considering Mistlynn's people. "She told me her Adad is a recluse, that he has forbidden any contact with any kingdom outside of the Northern Wastes."

"That is her father. What about her Grandfather?"

"I've never asked. And she has never volunteered the information." Thorin's tone became low and quiet. "Honestly Bilbo, I didn't even consider her people. Until she came, her people were just a myth."

"I'm not suggesting that Mistlynn is intentionally keeping things from you. From what I've gathered, she would rather forget her homeland, her people and begin anew here with you." Bilbo paused as he gave Thorin a pointed look. "But I doubt her people have stayed hidden for centuries. It may not be her father, but what of her grandfather? Or her ancestors? If some of these other Dwarf Lords are so upset that you have married her, it must be for a reason. Whether they know something of her kingdom or not, there is no way a kingdom of dragon slaying dwarves and elves have kept completely to themselves."

"I assumed they were upset due to her elven lineage. But word of my alliance with Dale and Mirkwood has reached them as well. My family's history with the Ironfists and the Stiffbeards have always been tedious. I wasn't surprised when they refused to assist me with my quest to reclaim Erebor." Thorin had stood up and began to pace in front of Bilbo who was still seated on the bench.

"You, along with the company, are the most forward-thinking dwarves I have heard of. Even your people here are starting to become more open minded when it comes to the other races. This will be seen as a threat to other clans, as I was perceived by you at the beginning of our quest. But I am sure you will be able to persuade them, especially with Mistlynn at your side. You just need to get to the bottom of this threat that your grandfather received, and the rest should fall into place. And I believe the answer lies with the White Kingdom." Bilbo closed his lips around his pipe as he continued to hum thoughtfully, outright ignoring the incredulous stare Thorin was giving him at that moment.

"I didn't see you as a threat." Thorin mumbled gruffly as he stopped pacing to look at Bilbo directly.

Bilbo tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Indeed, I was, my friend. A burden. A nuisance. A threat. No need to be ashamed of that. I had just as much to prove to myself as I did to you. Our friendship is the stronger for it." Bilbo swung his feet as he gave Thorin a cheery grin.

Thorin's lip twitched with a promise of a smile, but he couldn't allow it. Not with his thoughts racing with all Bilbo had given him to think about.

Bilbo was shrewd, and had a knack for sensing inner turmoil, especially when it came to his friends. "Why have you not spoken to Balin about this?"

Thorin let out a resigned huff as he looked down at his boots. "I've put Balin through enough with Dragon sickness. To have him read my Irak'adad's journal when he was in the height of his sickness …" he trailed off his thought before he brought his gaze back up to meet Bilbo's. "I've been having dreams since I read that journal. Dreams that don't make sense …" he stopped. His eyes shifted back down to the ground before him. "But they do."

Bilbo's brows furrowed as he watched Thorin's expression change from confusion, frustration, then suddenly realization.

"Durin's beard." Thorin exhaled, as he rubbed his face with his palm. "The Arkenstone, Mistlynn."

"I am sorry. What?" the hobbit shifted his weight forward as he looked at Thorin, intrigued.

"My dream. I had a dream of Frerin and Vili. They told me it was hers to wield. That it was never ours to keep."

Bilbo's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You're brother? What is hers to wield?"

Thorin swallowed thickly. His mouth became dry as if it was filled with sand. "The Arkenstone." He breathed.

*******

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @fizzyxcustard

#thorin oakenshield #erebor #thorin fanfiction #thorin durin #the hobbit #hobbit thorin oakenshield #thorin and company #hobbit thorin oakenshield x oc fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #alternative ending #bilbo baggins #post botfa #fix it au

[conversacomsmaug]

My King...

#fanfic #hobbit #fanfiction #thranduil #tolkien #tauriel #the elvenking #king of mirkwood #mirkwood #tolkien elves #ai #Thrandiel #lotr #post botfa

[ohnonotnow]

the only thing keeping me sane rn are those post BOTFA AUs where no one dies and everyone is happy 💯🔥🙏

#fili and kili #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #memes #kili #fili durin #battle of the five armies #the hobbit botfa #post botfa #alternative universe

[lucigoo]

Bagginshield Fic request? Found

Thank oyu to the wonderful @catfury360, they found it, its this fic if anyone is interested ...A Complaint A Day... - birdkeeperklink So, ive got a fic stuck in my brain, but cant ifnd it, if anyone has read it, or knows the title please?

Hobbits complain and moan about things before they happen to love. It confuses the Company but they dont think much of it. The idea is that if you complain about it it might never happen, so they only complain about the best of things in their life (i think) the Company notice when Bibo stops complaing about them and everything, but i cant remember why. Its completed and set in Erebor after BOTFA, so if anyone knows it, please share? 💖

#Bagginshield #Post BOTFA #fic search

[imsimpingtomuch]

A beard

This is a fanfic for fictober. Just wanted to try and write somthing tbh. (Post BOTFA, Parentshield, dwobbit Frodo) SORRY FOR SPELLING ERRORS!

Bilbo (as useall) spent his afternon's with a hot cup of tea. Sitting in his armchair, reading a book and lisening to the fire crackling.

But then a knock at the door was heard. Expecting it to be his husband coming back earlier form the Wednesday meltings, Bilbo gladly answered.

"Come inn."

The door opened, but instead of his husband, he saw his son standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hello dear. Arent you suposed to be in lesons with Balin now? Did you skip agein? I told you not to lisen to your cousins-"

"No Papa, I got permisjon from mister Balin. I just need to talk to you about something." Frodo reassured his hobbit father.

"Oh ok then, ask away my boy." Bilbo said, waving his son into the room. And patting the armchair next to him.

"You know how im both Hobbit and Dwarf?" Frodo asked.

"Yes Frodo, i am your father." Bilbo said with a look that told the boy that what he'd just asked, was a stupid question.

"And you know how dwarfs grow beards?" Frodo asked, yet again.

"Get to the point my boy" Bilbo answered with a half annoyed look.

"Right, sorry. Well I have started to grow facial hair." Frodo said looking down at his feet.

"Congratulation!" Bilbo said, thinking this was a good thing. But judging by the look on his sons face, it wasn't.

"Is there something wrong Frodo dear?" Bilbo asked.

"Well, I kinda dont...want a beard.." Frodo hesitatingly said, looking down at his feet.

"Oh, but thats ok my boy. You can just shave it." Bilbo answered.

"Thats the thing. I don't know how.." Frodo said looking up at his Papa.

"Im sorry to disapoint you Frodo, but I dont eather. Hobbits dont grow any other hair then that on our head and feet." He said, wiggling his toes a bit.

"But you should ask your adad. He is a dwarf afterall." Bilbo said.

"Thats also a problem, I dont want to ask him." Frodo said, looking away from his father agein.

"And why is that?" Bilbo looked puzzled. Frodo has never been afraid of asking his dwarf father about anything before.

"I know how inportent beards are for dwarfs. I just dont want to disapoint him." Frodo answered. Bilbo plased a hand on his sons shoulder.

"Dont be afraid to ask him Frodo. Your adad loves you no matter what you should choose to do." Bilbo said.

"Are you sure Papa? What if he gets mad." Frodo said. He knows his adad could get pretty angry. Especially when King Thranduil is on a wisit.

"Look I know better then anyone how intimidating your other father can be. But when it comes to his family, he will always suport us." Bilbo said, looking at his son in the most reassuring way he could muster.

"Alright, I'll ask him. Thank you Papa." Frodo finally said. Giving his papa a hug and getting a kiss on the cheek in return. Then storming out the door to find his other father.

After both looking and asking around. He finally found his father deep in conversation with Dwalin at a table in the royal halls. Thorin spotted his son standing in the doorway and smiled.

"At least his in a good mood" Frodo thought.

"Inúdoy! Come, sitt." Thorin patted the place next to him on the bench he was sitting on.

"Hello adad, mister Dwalin." Frodo nodded to the bald dwarf while sitting down.

"My prince." Dwalin bowd his head in reply.

"Aren't you suposed to be in lesons with Balin right now? Did Fili and Kili get you to skip lesons agein. Those boys never learn-"

"No no adad! Mister Balin lett me skip." Frodo said, stopping his father, before he could make even more assumptions about his cousins.

"I just wanted to talk to you, alown if its ok." Frodo asked.

"Of course, Dwalin I'll catch up with you later." Thorin said. Dwalin bowd to them both and took his leave.

As soon as the door closed Frode turned to his dwarven father.

"Adad, as you know im soon becoming of age." Frodo said, Thorin nodded.

"And I have started to grow facial hair."

Thorin looked suprised by this, but settled down and lett his son continue.

Frodo hesitated for a moment.

"Im sorry, but I dont want a beard. Though I know how inportent beards are for dwarfs. And I should be honerd to be growing one but it just dosent feel like me. I've talking to Papa but he said that it was ok, but since he's a hobbit he doesn't know how to shave. Which is why I have to talk to you. But if you are disapointed in me i completely understand. Im sorry!" Frodo was a little out of breath after all that. Thorin looked suprised, but his expression slowly changed. Though Frodo couldn't tell if it was a positiv og negativ one, damm his father and his unbearable face expressions. But then the young dwabbit was swoped into a warm embrace by his adad. Making him realise that this was infact a positiv respons.

"Its ok inúdoy. Its your decision to make, i wount be angry at you. With or without a beard, you'll be my son eatherway." Frodo hugged his father tight and smiled into his warm fur coat.

"Beards may be inportent to dwarfs. But remember, you are only half dwarf. None will judge you for not wanting facial hair." Thorin said.

"Will you help me shave then adad?" Frodo asked, his voice muffled by the fur.

"Of course I will son."

End

#Post botfa #parentshield #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #frodo baggins #dwobbit frodo #the hobbit #lord of the rings #fanfic #fictober22

[ahhrenata]

when you catch your crush very obviously staring 🤭

| these two melted the shit out of my heart |

#binged the movies with my dad #every time Thorin smiles at bilbo it kills me #this is post-botfa..no sadness here! #just longing stares and blushing faces #I’m erasing the sad feels the movie has left me with #the hobbit #lotr #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #lotr fanart #bagginshield fanart #I’m entering a phase #misc fanart

[seeyouatthesecondmusic]

rewatching the extended edition of botfa and. thorin actually says to bilbo, word for word, i quote

'this gold is ours, and ours alone.'

like,??? he has fuckinfg dragon sivkness where hes literally suspecting his kin, his sistersons of stealing from him, but hes so obsessed with bilbo, he and bilbo are so together, are pactically one insepaeable entity in his mind, that he just automatically says the gold is his ands bilbo's. i cannot with this film i am going insane

#bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #dragon sickness #botfa #tbotfa #my post

[runesandramblings]

Violent Delights

Word Count: 6200

Pairings: Kili x reader

Warnings: Unhappy arranged marriage but nothing violent or abusive

Description: A forbidden romance blossoms between King Thranduil's arranged bride to be and the Prince of Erebor. (Loosely inspired by Romeo & Juliet without the death part.)

Will make a part 2 if you guys want it. :)

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume.

The breeze felt wonderful against your skin after being indoors for so long. You inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh scent of the forest to fill your lungs as you relished in the sounds around you. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves… The walls you’d been kept behind were quiet, far too quiet for your taste. You were used to the sounds of life in the forest, and to be surrounded by the familiar noises once again filled you with delight. 

“Lady (Y/N), we should probably get back.” 

Temporarily, at least. 

You turned to look back at your escort. Tauriel, the captain of King Thranduil’s guard, had been reassigned as your personal escort the day you’d arrived. She was around your age, both of you quite young for elves, and in spite of the differences in your position she’d grown to be a close friend. Your only friend, really. 

“You don’t have to call me that.” You reminded her once again. 

She smiled, and you knew she would continue no matter how many times you told her otherwise.

“You are a lady, are you not? Soon to be the queen?” 

You grimaced at the reminder.

“Unfortunately.” You muttered under your breath. It was probably loud enough for her to hear, but you didn’t care. She was well aware of your feelings on the arrangement. 

You had not come to the kingdom under your own will. Your father, a high lord of another elven kingdom, had desired an alliance between your people and the much more powerful elves of Mirkwood. In exchange for protection and trade agreements, he’d offered King Thranduil your hand. You were both surprised the king had actually accepted, and as soon as word arrived of his agreement to the terms you’d been sent off to Mirkwood the very same afternoon. 

It was well known to many that the king had tragically lost his wife in a battle against orcs many years before. You were as shocked as anyone that he’d agreed to marry again, after he’d been intentionally alone for so many years. Upon your arrival he had been quick to inform you that the marriage was one purely of convenience, as your people had much to offer Mirkwood. Outside of that one conversation, you had not spent any time alone with the king. You’d not spent any time with him at all, really. Aside from the occasional dinner, which was also usually attended by his son, you had only seen Thranduil a handful of times since you’d arrived in Mirkwood a month before.

He was not unkind. From the small interactions you’d had with him he did not appear to be cruel or malicious. You sensed his hardened exterior had a lot to do with the loss of his first wife, and you could not fault him for that. For the most part since your arrival you had been left to your own devices within the walls of the kingdom. Thranduil had given you your own private chambers. They were large and luxurious, with the finest silken tapestries and hand carved furniture you could imagine. Your time was yours alone, as the king never sought an audience with you, and you spent it as you pleased. You’d grown close to Tauriel very quickly, and Thranduil’s son Legolas was also good company. 

Though you could hardly complain about the lavish treatment and unending free time, it had grown into a lonely existence. Your chambers, though massive, felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. You’d explored every nook and cavern of Mirkwood, read every book and parchment in the library, and quickly grew tired of the same mundane routine you’d fallen into. Which, subsequently, led to your trip outside of the kingdom walls with Tauriel. 

Speaking of Tauriel. You felt her step closer to you as she whispered in your ear.

“It could be far worse, (Y/N). I know this is not what you wanted, but Thranduil is a fair and noble man. You will have a good life here.” 

You knew she was right. As a highborn lady in your home kingdom, you’d watched many friends married off to unsavory men over the years. Of all the arrangements you could have ended up with, you’d been matched to the King of Mirkwood. You knew you would live a good life, a luxurious life. But you also knew you were walking into a loveless marriage, and the prospect of being alone pained you. Elves lived long lives, and you couldn’t imagine being a wife in name only for a thousand years or longer. You desired love and true companionship. 

As you looked back at her, nodding your head in resignation of the truth you knew she spoke, she gestured over her shoulder towards the direction of the gate. Time to return. You relented in defeat, following her as she began winding her way back through the woodland trails. The forest was safe now, the spiders having been driven off for good shortly after the Battle of the Five. The king was still reluctant to allow anyone to leave, and it had taken some persuasion on Tauriel’s part to get him to allow the adventure. You hoped he would consent to regular walks in the forest, so long as you didn’t try to abuse the privilege. He did not strike you as a controlling man, but he was certainly protective of his kingdom and those within it.

You took one last, deep breath of the fresh air before you stepped through the heavily guarded doors behind Tauriel. As you turned to say your goodbyes for the evening, you were approached by a taller, dark haired elf. You recognized him as one of Thranduil’s personal servants as he bowed before you. 

“Lady (Y/N), the king has requested an audience.” 

You looked between the messenger and Tauriel, unable to hide the expression of surprise that crossed your features. Thranduil had sent for you? 

Tauriel nodded politely to you as she bowed, dismissing herself as the servant gestured for you to follow him. 

“You know where to find me should you need me, my lady.” She said before turning and departing.

You followed the servant down the winding corridors, through the only passageways you were still unfamiliar with in the kingdom. As you and Thranduil had separate chambers and living spaces, you hadn’t had cause to explore the areas surrounding his rooms. You were surprised to find he had summoned you into his private quarters, rather than his throne room or the dining hall you semi-frequently gathered in. 

The servant came to a halt in front of a large set of ornate doors and he knocked once before opening it, gesturing for you to step through. You stepped inside and the doors closed behind you. The servant didn’t follow you in, and as you continued on alone your mind raced with the possibilities of why Thranduil might have requested to speak with you. 

You were surprised to find his chambers were not much more lavish than your own. He’d clearly spared no expense on your living quarters, as his shared the same style of furniture and tapestries as yours did. The only visible difference you could detect was that his rooms were just a slight bit larger than yours. As you rounded the corner into the main living area you found the king at last. He was standing with his back to you, and as you approached he did not turn to greet you. You stopped a few yards away from him, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped together. He was a king, after all, and you were uncertain if you should speak first. Surely he’d heard you enter. 

After several long moments of silence, Thranduil finally spoke. 

“How have you been finding the kingdom?” He asked, his back still turned to you. His arms moved as he spoke, and from behind it looked as though he were fidgeting with something on the table he stood before.

“Fine, your majesty.” You said quietly, not bothering to elaborate. You didn’t think he’d care too much for the details anyway.

“Have you been treated well?” He continued, still not turning to face you.

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“You may call me Thranduil.” He finally turned, holding two goblets of red wine in his hands. He handed you one and took a long sip from his own before continuing. “We are to be wed, after all. Even if it is merely an arrangement.” 

You nodded wordlessly as you accepted the glass. You remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He paused for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and began to walk back in the direction he’d come.

“I have received an invitation from King Thorin.” As he spoke he paced around the room, sipping from his goblet. It was clear he was as uncertain of what to do in your presence as you were in his. “They are holding a celebration in honor of the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. Would you care to attend with me?” 

That was surprising. Despite the joint effort it took between the dwarves and elves to defeat the orc armies, they were still not on the best of terms. Thorin had, after all, attempted to keep the elves’ jewels to himself and nearly started a war between the two clans as a result. There was an uneasy peace between the two, now that the dwarves resided in the mountain once again, and you were surprised that Thranduil would be willing to travel all that way to be in the company of dwarves.

“Yes your ma- Thranduil.” You quickly corrected yourself.

He paused and turned to look at you, though he did not make a move to step closer. 

“I do not expect love to grow between us.” He said flatly.  “But we should be able to tolerate each other, should we not?” 

You nodded.

“Yes, I would say so.” 

He nodded in return as he held his wine glass out, indicating a toast. 

“Very well then. We leave in one week's time.” 

** 

The journey from Mirkwood to Erebor had taken two days, and with the lavish way in which Thranduil liked to travel it was not an uncomfortable trek as you’d anticipated. You arrived at the mountain kingdom well rested, and rather excited at the prospect of a feast. From what the king had explained of dwarvish parties he remembered from the late King Thror’s time, the feast could go on for days. You would be arriving at the tail end of the celebration, as Thranduil had planned. Dwarves were apparently a rambunctious bunch, and as Thorin had requested Thranduil stay and tour the mountain afterwards he had not wanted to spend more time with them than he needed. 

Erebor was as magnificent as you’d been told. It was amazing how the mountain had been transformed and rebuilt in merely a year's time. Though you were used to the splendor of elven realms, as both Mirkwood and your birth home were lavish and beautiful, there was something awe-inspiring about the kingdom under the mountain. The halls were endless, sprawling on in either direction as far as your eyes could see. The ceilings were impossibly high, and despite the kingdom being built into the side of a mountain there seemed to be an abundance of light flowing from any given direction. To look down at the winding staircases that led deeper into the heart of the mountain would make you dizzy, if you stared too long. The stone walls were carved and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver, telling the tales and the history of the line of Durin. You had studied many languages, and Khuzdul was one you were somewhat familiar with. You’d found yourself stopping every few feet along the walk to your chambers to read the inscriptions on the walls. 

Legolas, Tauriel, and a handful of others had made the journey along with yourself and Thranduil. The dwarves had spared no luxury for your group, as you’d each been housed in your own private chamber within the mountain. Dwarvish extravagance was very different from that of your elven home. Where the elves valued natural elegance, which involved a lot of carved wood and intricate silks, the dwarves had more of a rugged taste. Your rooms consisted of chiseled stone furniture and fixtures, inlaid with even more gold and a number of jewels you had never laid eyes on before. Though it was very different from your home in Mirkwood, it still felt comfortable and welcoming. 

The dwarf servant that had been assigned to your care had asked what could be provided to make your stay more enjoyable, and she was delighted at your request for books to read later in the evening. She seemed impressed at your ability to read and understand Khuzdul, as many elves didn’t care or bother to learn the language of the dwarves. You’d noticed the air of arrogance Thranduil and Legolas, and even Tauriel, had displayed since your arrival, and you made it your mission to change the dwarves’ opinion of elves, even if the others chose not to do the same. 

After resting and dressing for dinner, you’d met Thranduil and the others in the hall. He extended his arm out to you automatically, as though it were expected rather than something he cared to do. You’d accepted it regardless. As you walked along he did not look down at you, or even acknowledge your dress or appearance for the event. Was this the life you were destined for? Emotionless, cold… Doing things merely out of duty and not from love? You felt your heart sink as you walked along beside the king. It was a lonely existence. 

The feast was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was chaos. There were long, sprawling tables lined with food and more dwarves than you could count. As you watched, food flew from every side of the room, ale spilled across the tabletops and onto the floor, and dwarves moved about, falling over themselves and each other. It was clear the drinking had been going on for much longer than the actual feast. 

“They behave like animals.” Thranduil muttered under his breath. 

Despite having never been in the company of dwarves before, you found yourself surprisingly unbothered by their behavior. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than you could say for your royal escort. It was certainly more rambunctious than any elvish party you had ever attended, but at least they were having a good time. 

As your party approached a large table at the head of the room, one of the dwarves stood to greet you. He was dark haired with a matching dark beard. Streaks of gray peppered both his long hair and speckled his face, and with the gold and emerald crown atop his head you took him to be the king. As he stood he extended his hand in a greeting.

“King Thranduil.” He bowed his head out of respect to the elven king as he placed his hand across his chest. “We are pleased you could make the journey.” 

Thranduil nodded tightly in return, also bowing his head to Thorin to your surprise. 

“King Thorin.” He said politely, though you could hear the hint of tension in his voice.  “This is my betrothed, Lady (Y/N). You’ve met my son, Prince Legolas.” 

Thorin nodded at you both before gesturing to the dwarves seated on either side of him. On one side sat a woman, with dark hair similar to his own. They shared a stark resemblance, down to the neatly trimmed beard she wore as well. On his other side sat a younger dwarf, who also matched the seeming familial resemblance to the other two. He had wavy, golden hair with braids woven through. His braided mustache bounced as he nodded his head in respect. 

“A pleasure, my lady. My prince. This is my sister, Lady Dis. My nephew and heir, Prince Fili. My other nephew will be joining us shortly.” As he spoke he gestured to two empty seats on the opposite side of the prince. “King Thranduil, would you and your betrothed join us at the head table?” 

Your eyes traveled to the spot down from the empty spaces. You recognized the king of the newly rebuilt city of Dale, Bard. The one who had been responsible for slaying Smaug, if you remembered the story correctly. 

Thranduil’s increasingly strained smile caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk a bit in response. You knew the last thing he’d wanted for the evening was to be sandwiched between the dwarves he still wasn’t overly fond of and the humans he held in equal disdain. However you knew his kingly pride would not allow him to turn down the offer. You, on the other hand, were excited to continue on with your mission of making the dwarves see the elves in a better light. 

“We’d be honored.” He said, forcing an even larger fake smile. As another dwarf servant appeared and escorted Legolas and the others to their table, Thranduil gestured for you to choose your seat first. Unable to resist the humor of making the king even more uncomfortable, you opted for the seat next to Bard, leaving Thranduil no choice but to sit and make conversation with the dwarven king and prince. 

“It’s a pleasure, my lady.” King Bard said as you sat, extending his hand to help you into your seat. “I was not aware that King Thranduil had taken a bride.” 

“It’s a new development.” You said, quickly attempting to divert the conversation away from your engagement. “How is the work on the city going?” 

As the two of you made light conversation and exchanged pleasantries, speaking of the rebuild of Dale and the newly reformed relations between dwarves, elves, and men, you began to lose track of time. Several courses came and went, and ale and wine continued to flow freely. Though the elvish tolerance made your kind more resistant to the influence of alcohol, the steady refilling of your goblet as you chatted and sipped away had your head spinning before you’d realized what had happened. You began to feel warm, and as you breathed in and out your corset suddenly felt overwhelmingly restrictive around your chest. 

Air. You needed air. 

Without thinking you turned to your fiance, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Thranduil.”

He turned to you, and as his eyes met yours his brief look of annoyance quickly turned into one of concern as he noticed your flushed and panicked face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and you were surprised to find that he actually appeared to be worried for your wellbeing. 

You nodded in reassurance, not wanting to cause a scene as you felt the eyes of Bard and Thorin also turning to you.

“I’m just feeling a bit warm, I think I’m going to step out for a moment.”

Thranduil gave a small nod in return, and you quickly stood and excused yourself from the table.

You were uncertain of where to go, as you’d only arrived in the mountain earlier that day and had not had a chance to get to know your way around. The way back to your room felt somewhat familiar, and you decided a quick stroll there and back might help clear your head. As you wove through the crowd, deftly avoiding numerous drunk and stumbling dwarves, you found that a makeshift dance floor had formed directly in front of the entrance, and only exit, to the great hall. You were unfamiliar with the dwarvish music, but it was much softer and merrier than you expected. Dozens of couples twirled around, following footwork that was unknown to you but something they seemed to know by heart. You were transfixed for several moments, watching them move about with an ease and grace that you didn’t know came so naturally to dwarves. After a few minutes you remembered your desire for some air, and decided you’d still like a short break from the commotion before you returned to the table. You tried to move nimbly along the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to avoid crashing into dancing dwarves as you stayed as far out of the way as possible. As you turned back to watch momentarily, still intrigued, you felt yourself collide solidly with another body. Before you had the chance to correct your footing you found you were falling backward. You braced yourself for the impact, but before your body could crash into the stone floor a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt yourself being pulled into a broad chest. 

Your gaze turned forward, looking for the source of your rescue in order to thank whoever had saved you from splitting your head open. As your eyes searched the space in front of you they spotted the top of a head of brown hair; the person to whom it was attached stood a few inches shorter than you. It was a dwarf, if you had to guess. He was still cradling you tightly against him, as though he anticipated you might fall backward again at any moment. You felt his grasp loosen as he leaned back to look up at you, though his arms still remained wrapped around your body.

He was young. The difference in how dwarves and elves aged was unfamiliar to you, but judging by his lack of a beard and softer features you assumed he was not an elder. He had wavy brown hair that was pulled partially back, save for a few loose strands and a fringe of bangs that framed his face and a pair of dazzling brown eyes. Though he lacked the fuller beard and mustache that most dwarves wore he did have a sprinkling of stubble across his face. The lack of a beard allowed you to fully appreciate his chiseled jawline and lips, the latter of which currently sported a wide grin. He was quite handsome, and you couldn’t help but stand and stare down at the stranger for several long moments. 

Too long, you realized. How long had you been standing in silence, staring at the nameless man? It would surely look bad if anyone from your party came strolling by.

“I’m sorry sir-” You started. As you stuttered out an apology you moved to step backward, and subsequently tripped again. The young dwarf immediately grasped your arm tighter to steady you and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks in response. So much for the grace and elegance of the elves. 

“The fault was entirely mine, my lady.” He said in return, his kind smile widening at your flustered speech and clumsiness. He didn’t appear to be bothered by your awkwardness; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. His touch lingered on your arm, ensuring you would not fall again before he slowly released his grasp. 

“I’d hardly say so, you were merely walking by and I was not watching where I was going.” Despite your embarrassment you felt a smile spread across your face as well. The kind twinkle in his eyes was contagious, and you quickly felt your fluster fade the longer the two of you spoke.

“Well if you’re so inclined to make amends, you can honor me with a dance.” As he spoke he extended his hand toward you, and in the same motion he nodded his head toward the mass of dancing bodies. The music had slowed to something much less upbeat, something you were sure even you could keep up with. 

You paused. The nameless man had intrigued you, that was for certain. But would dancing with a random dwarf enrage your royal fiance? You craned your neck to look back in the direction of the table you had been sat at with Thranduil and the other royals, but from your position near the dance floor you could not see them. Which meant more than likely they could not see you either. Even so, would it really be that big of a deal? You were supposed to be making peace, after all. 

“That seems only fair.” You said as you turned back to face him. As you accepted his outstretched hand he grasped it tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear, and pulled you to the floor. 

The two of you came to a halt in the middle of the mass of bodies. You were surrounded by other dancing pairs on every side, safely hidden away from any watchful eyes. As you rested your hand on his shoulder and entwined the fingers of your free hand with his you felt his other hand rest on your hip. The light touch sent a wave of goosebumps up the side of your body. It was more contact than you’d ever had with the man who was supposed to become your husband. Every point of contact your body had with the stranger felt as though it were on fire. 

Seeming to know you were unfamiliar with the music he took the lead, tugging you gently back and forth until you became comfortable with the simple steps of the dance. You swayed together for a few moments, neither speaking but simply watching each other in a comfortable silence. Though he was a bit shorter than you it was not by much. He stood at eye level with your nose, and you wondered if he were tall for a dwarf, or if you were short for an elf. Thranduil and the others had towered over Thorin, so you expected it was the latter. You had often been one of the smaller elves wherever you’d gone. 

“So you are not from the Iron Hills, I take it.” He grinned up at you as he finally spoke, stating the obvious. There were many physical differences between elves and dwarves, but if your ears and impossibly long hair had not given you away your dress certainly would have. The high-necked and fitted gowns of the dwarven women were a stark contrast to the lower cut and flowing gowns of the elves. 

“I am not.” You confirmed. 

“Are you from Mirkwood?” He continued.

“I am living in Mirkwood, but I am from somewhere farther.” 

“And are all the elves as graceful as you?” He asked. As he spoke he attempted to keep a serious face, as though it were a genuine inquiry. He failed, and before you had the chance to respond to his prodding a smirk broke through his stoic expression. 

“Well I’ve often suspected I’m not entirely an elf.” You said matter-of-factly, playing along with his teasing. “Grace has never been my strong suit.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I didn’t know my mother. My father does not speak of her. And as you’ve so keenly pointed out, I do lack the natural elegance of the elves.” Why were you telling him this? You’d only just met the man, and yet you found yourself spilling out the innermost things you’d only ever wondered to yourself. 

“And the height.” He quipped, confirming your earlier thoughts. “But you are no less stunning.” 

You felt a warmth spread across your face, and you were certain you’d blushed a scarlet red. He was more forward than you were used to, and although you enjoyed the company of the cheeky dwarf you were also an engaged woman. To a king, no less. You’d become lost in the conversation, fully absorbed in the moments shared with the handsome stranger. To the point you had almost forgotten you were still in the center of a crowded dance floor. You realized the two of you had stopped moving and instead stood staring at each other again. His eyes were mesmerizing. His fringe of bangs had fallen partially to cover them, and you felt yourself drawn to reach forward and brush them away.

“Are you from Erebor?” You quickly asked, sidestepping his compliment. “Or have you traveled for the celebration?” You turned your gaze to the couples around you and tugged on his hand, indicating you should start moving again. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his lopsided grin return, fully aware that you’d avoided the second part of his earlier statement. He followed your lead and began to sway with you, though you noted his grip had tightened on your hip. 

“I live here.” 

“Did you live here before the…” You trailed off, uncertain of how the dwarves spoke of the years the mountain stood uninhabited. Was it a sore subject still? 

“Before the dragon?” He finished. “No. Why do I look that old?” His eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke, his expression unreadable. 

You’d offended him.

“N- no. You don’t. I didn’t- I mean-” You felt your face flush red again as you stumbled over your words. Of course he couldn’t have been old enough to have lived through Smaug. Could he? 

He laughed. 

“I’m only joking.” He assured you. As he spoke he stopped moving again, and gestured over his shoulder to the exit you’d been attempting to make it to before. “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around a bit while everyone is in here. The halls will be empty” 

You felt a flutter run through your stomach at the prospect of being alone with the mystery man. It was a feeling you’d never experienced with Thranduil, and expected you never would. You checked over your shoulder again, still unable to see the head table from where the two of you stood. But again, would it be so bad? Accepting a tour of the kingdom from a dwarf? You had made it your mission to change their view of the elves, after all. You wordlessly nodded, accepting his invitation, and he grinned widely in return as he took your hand and led you nimbly through the crowd.

The halls of Erebor appeared impossibly larger while empty. The stranger led you up and down staircases, pointing out different areas of the kingdom and showing you various repairs that had been completed in order to reverse the damage done by the dragon. As you walked together you lost track of time again, and you wondered how long you’d been absent from the table. Had Thranduil noticed? Likely not. He never seemed to notice or care when you were gone. 

“So how did you come to live in Mirkwood?” Your escort finally asked, his attention turning from the newly rebuilt throne to you. “You mentioned earlier you were not from there.” 

“My…betrothed.” You started hesitantly. “He lives in Mirkwood.” 

You paused, waiting for the inevitable reaction. You were promised to another, and it pained you to tell him. You felt an undeniable draw to this man who’s name you did not know. There was a familiarity and comfort with him, something you’d never felt before and certainly did not feel with Thranduil. As you waited for him to excuse himself and leave you standing alone in the halls you held your breath, dreading the fallout. 

“Oh.” He sounded surprised at the revelation, but not upset. He made no move to run away from you as he continued. “You do not sound happy about the arrangement.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he had not fled at the mention of your fiance. Though you’d made no mention of your unhappiness with the king, he seemed to have noted that it was not a joyous engagement. You wondered if it were that obvious to everyone when you spoke of Thranduil. 

“I’m not.” 

“Does he not treat you well?” He asked. You noticed a look of concern that immediately furrowed lines in his face. 

“In order to treat me well or not well he’d have to spend time with me.” You said, offering him a sad but reassuring smile that your intended was not an unkind man. “And we do not spend any time together. He told me when I arrived we were to be together in name only.” 

“That sounds terribly lonely.” 

“It has been.” You continued quietly. Your gaze turned back to the designs etched into the stone floor as you walked. Who was this stranger? This man you’d known for an hour at most, but somehow you felt more comfortable with than anyone you’d ever met before. You wanted to know him better, but that would surely be impossible. 

The two of you walked on in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. 

“Has he seen you?” He asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Has he laid eyes on you?” He asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice. 

“Well, yes, I’m here with him.” You stated simply. What was he getting at? 

The man shook his head as he turned from you back to stare ahead as you walked. 

“He is a madman, then.” 

“How so?”

“To possess a woman so divine and not spend any time with her…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as though in disappointment. “The only conclusion is he must be insane.” 

You felt your cheeks flush at his statement. This stranger had spoken more kind words to you in an evening than Thranduil had in a month. Who was this man? 

“I don’t know if I would say that.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you spoke. 

“I would.” He stopped suddenly and took your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. He tugged you around to face him, and kept your hand locked tightly in his as he spoke. “Tales will be written of your beauty some day. You are the fairest princess in the most wonderful fairytale. The most beautiful and elegant of all the elves in all of the realms. The most precious jewel under this mountain. If he is not insane, your betrothed is surely blind.” 

The way he stared up into your eyes sent another flutter through your stomach. Something you’d sorely lacked with Thranduil. Passion. You felt it as strongly as anything, the unmistakable feelings of desire and attraction swirling within you. It was as though the force of gravity itself had shifted, and rather than grounding you to the earth you stood on it was pulling you towards this stranger instead. 

“You flatter me, sir. I do not even know your name.” You whispered. As you spoke you felt yourself unconsciously pulling against his hand, tugging him closer to you. He stepped forward willingly, bringing your bodies only inches apart. 

“I am-” He began.

“Kili.” 

The both of you jumped at the unfamiliar voice that invaded the intimate bubble you’d enclosed yourselves in. You quickly released his hand and stepped backward, putting as much space as possible between you as the intruder approached. The young blonde prince you’d met earlier, Fili if you remembered correctly, was strolling toward the two of you. 

“My lady, this is my brother, Prince Kili.” He said by way of introduction as he came to a halt beside him. “Brother this is Lady (Y/N), the intended of King Thranduil.” It seemed as though he were offering a reminder to the pair of you, rather than an introduction. 

His brother. The king’s nephew. Of course it was. 

The stranger you now knew to be Kili was staring at you, the pieces falling into place as his eyes widened. 

“Thranduil…” He mumbled. “Of course.”

Fili raised an eyebrow in confusion at his brother's muttering before turning his attention back to you. 

“My lady, your fiance requested I come check on you. Are you well?” He asked. He was far more formal and royally appropriate than his brother had been for the past hour. 

You quickly slipped back into a more formal mode yourself, straightening your back and clasping your hands behind you. You nodded respectfully at the elder prince. 

“Thank you, Prince Fili. Prince Kili was just escorting me back to my room. Will you tell King Thranduil I am not feeling well and would like to retire for the evening?” 

He nodded. 

“I will. Brother, our king has requested your presence. Do you know the rest of the way back, my lady?” As he spoke he pulled on his brother's arm, indicating they should return to the hall as quickly as possible. You hoped nothing had been made of your joint absence, though given the fact you’d not been introduced earlier the connection would have been a longshot for anyone to make. 

“I do.” You said, giving the older brother a reassuring smile as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Kili.” You felt a pang of sadness. The evening had gone by far too quickly, and you knew you were not likely to see the handsome prince again.

“And you, (Y/N).” He took your hand in his and kissed it gently, allowing his lips to momentarily linger against the delicate skin of your hand. He released it and quickly stood, leaning in to whisper in your ear before following his brother. “I will find you again.” 

#kili durin #kili fanfic #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit #kili x reader #kili #the hobbit movies #the hobbit trilogy #the hobbit fic #kili durin x reader #the hobbit reader insert #kili reader insert #kili imagine #kili durin imagine #kíli #fili and kili #kili and fili #lord of the rings reader insert #post-botfa

[thewitchkingiscool-ace]

Y’know, the ending of botfa was such a wonder to behold. BEAR WITH ME HERE OKAY, HEAR MY POINTS.

I’ll start by breaking down some of the scenes. So first, we have the scene were Fili is momentarily captured by Azog at the top of that old abandoned fortress-thing with all of Azog’s army behind him. Then good old Azzerz (thats my name for azog) does his speech about which order he’d kill everyone in his plan that went horribly wrong, f in chat for azog.

And then Fili does that badass backwards spinning-kick and knocks Azog to the floor, then he dodges all of the army like a pro and kills like 75% of them (we all know how it goes so there’s no point going through it. But fili was awesome in that moment so i just want some appreciation for him there)

And THEN we cut to Kili, Bolg and Tauriel. I love the dynamic between Kili and Tauriel in that moment as they work together to take out Bolg, jumping off rocks and attacking him from both sides and being fabulous as always. Especially that bit where Bolg grabs Kili then Tauriel walks up behind him and kicks him in the balls. What an amazing scene. Then they manage to chase him to Legolas and that sketchy bridge that looks like it would collapse at any minute and Legolas starts flexing his skills and spins and slashes and runs up the bridge as it collapses in slow motion and nearly falls then flips himself back up again and does that cool thing where he stabs Bolg in the head and bounces off his shoulders and the whole bridge sinks then collapses and Bolg dies from fall damage then just in case he wasnt dead, the piece of rubble falls on him. Then Tauriel and Kili finally kiss and see Legolas stood far in the distance and wave at him and he finally accepts that Tauriel friendzoned him but he’s totally chill with it and it’s so wholesome.

AND THEN WE HAVE THORIN VS AZOG!! AND THORIN COMPLETELY WRECKS HIM! So they fight on the ice and Thorin uses Azog’s weight against him. We all know how he picks up Azzer’s big old wrecking ball thing and throws it at him and Azog goes under the ice. Then Thorin starts following him which tbh could have been quite a risky move and could’ve got him killed, but he sees Azog’s eyes open and does a BACKFLIP to avoid Azzer’s sword and does a majestic hair-flip, then yells a dwarvish war-cry and starts attacking him. Then it goes a bit downhill as we all know and how as Thorin’s pinned against the floor, Bilbo comes running at Azog and knocks him off and Thorin’s like “omagawsh ma husband here to save me <33” then Azog is on the floor cus bilbo wrecked him, and Thorin does that thing where he waltzes up to him holding bilbo’s hand and stabs Azog in the back and its so cool tho

and then Thorin proposes to bilbo, they reunite with Fili & Kili and they all hug and they’re tearful and Dwalin shows up and gives them a big old bear hug and its the sweetest. And then the eagles show up and take them all away from the oncoming army.

then when bilbo’s going home, thorin basically does the same as sam and bilbo’s like “i’m going home alone.” Then thorin says “of course you are. And I’m coming with you!!” It’s such a nice nod to lotr and i cried my eyes out there. Then they kiss again and all the dwarves cheer and Kili’s there holding tauriel’s hand then BARD AND THRANDUIL SHOW UP and make up with thorin and the company then Bard and Thrandy kiss too and Thranduil proposes to Bard then Kili proposes to tauriel and thennnnn (sorry for the long post) they all have a joint wedding at the shire and all the hobbits are like 0.0 “wat” at the sight of all these dwarves and elves and men but they embrace it all confused like “those are gonna be some interesting kids lmao!!”

then you see thorin moving in with bilbo after giving the crown to Fili and i cried again when they adopted frodo and you see Fili as King under the Mountain with lots of children and you can see how he looks slightly older and Peter Jackson and the makeup crew did such a good job portraying all the horrors they SURVIVED and LIVED to tell the tale of. And then it cuts to Gandalf showing up like 50 years later and you can see thorin sat in the back in an armchair reading a book and i cried again. overall such a wholesome movie and my favourite out of all three. Love that movie to DEATH haha, death’s a funny thing to mention considering how little of it there was 😅

sorry again for the long post but i had to rant about that movie!

#the hobbit #botfa #Sorry for the long post #nobody died #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #barduil #They all got married #so wholesome and sweet #this is what happened #lotr #azzerz #legolas #tolkien

[conversacomsmaug]

Capítulo 1 – Viva...

Sobre o áspero e gélido pico de Ravenhill, o vento sussurrava histórias de tempos antigos. A batalha à muito havia cessado, mas o eco da violência ainda rodeava a terra. Thranduil, Rei da Floresta das Trevas, andava com a majestade de um soberano atormentado pelos espectros da guerra. Seu olhar, outrora impenetrável como a própria floresta que jurou proteger, agora carregava uma suavidade rara e dolorosa.

Ali, prostrada sobre a neve manchada de sangue, estava Tauriel, sua capitã, seu valor inquestionável, cujo coração sangrou amor tão profundo que desafiou as próprias leis do reino élfico. Ele aguardou até que os anões retirassem os corpos de seus parentes mortos e Tauriel pudesse se recompor. Ela sabia que não tinha o direito de reivindicar o corpo de Kili e por isso fez sua última despedida.

Chegando próximo a ela e ajoelhando um pouco atrás da elfa, em uma atitude de completa compaixão e humildade, que qualquer um que o conhecia ou já ouvira falar do Rei Élfico não acreditaria, colocou uma mão no ombro de Tauriel com surpreendente suavidade e ainda com olhos brilhantes de lembranças doloridas. “Tauriel, você agiu guiada por sentimento, algo que muitos de nós perdemos em tempos imemoriais”, começou Thranduil, sua voz tão suave quanto as primeiras neves do inverno. “Você foi banida não pela força do seu coração, mas pela inquietação que ele causou dentro do nosso próprio.”

Tauriel, as lágrimas cristalizando em seu rosto, olhava-o com um misto de reverencia e desesperança. “Meu Rei, eu...,” seus lábios tremeram na fria brisa, “Eu achava que o amor poderia ser a nossa força.”

Thranduil se aproximou mais, a distância entre monarca e súdita borrada por gestos de compaixão. “Em outra vida, talvez nos ensinassem que o amor é a verdadeira força. Pela dor que causou, peço desculpas – não como teu rei, mas como alguém que esqueceu o que é sentir.”

Ouvir essas palavras de seu rei, alguém que ela outrora julgou tão frio, fez com que ela não soubesse se isso lhe dava forças ou a quebrava ainda mais. Ela o julgou, e agora estava ele aqui, impensável, o outrora inalcançável Rei Thranduil, olhando em seus olhos com um calor que derreteria uma geleira e lhe oferecendo palavras gentis sobre o que ela sentia pelo jovem príncipe anão. Talvez ela tenha tomado um golpe forte demais de Bolg e está desacordada vendo cenas inimagináveis.

Não, mas isso era real, doía, doía muito, não só sua carne, mas seu fëa. E Então ela estava caindo em si.

Percebendo a luta interna de Tauriel, com as mãos estendidas, Thranduil ajudou ela a levantar-se. O horizonte mostrava uma promessa de alvorada, os raios primeiros de luz penetrando as trevas.

Percebendo que ela talvez não entenderia se ele não fosse direto, Thranduil falou com a voz firme novamente. “Vamos retornar para Mirkwood, Tauriel. Há muito para reconstruir, e agora reconheço que precisamos de todos os corações – especialmente daqueles que amam com coragem.”

“Mas meu banimento, Kili... eu...,” ela balbuciou ainda em torpor.

“Basta. Há muita dor agora Tauriel, não só a sua. Seu povo agora precisa de você. Uma vez você quis lutar pelo que era justo além do amor, venha e me ajude. Esse é um pedido e não uma ordem, do seu Rei. Eu ainda o sou?” Ele olhou mais uma vez em seus olhos e era como olhar seu fëa. Ela congelou.

“Sim. Meu Rei.” Ela balbuciou um pouco mais firme, ainda em dúvida sobre o que estava acontecendo.

“Bom. Se não deixei claro, agora falo para não ter dúvidas, revogo seu banimento. Venha comigo.” E se virou dando as costas para uma ainda confusa Tauriel. De qualquer forma, o que ela deveria fazer? Para onde deveria ir? A dor ainda era excruciante, então ela apenas se deixou levar. Era fácil, automático, ela o seguiu e o obedeceu por tantos séculos... agora o melhor seria seguir seus passos novamente pois parecia não só confortável, parecia certo. Era mais fácil assim, neste momento, não pensar.

Juntos, rei e guerreira começaram a descida, suas silhuetas fundindo-se à paisagem repleta de esperança de cura e novos começos.

E o que vocês acharam? Para ter um gostinho... rsrsr

#hobbit #fanfic #fanfiction #thranduil #tolkien #tauriel #lotr #wattpad #lord of the rings #thrandiel #post botfa #O Hobbit #elvenking #the elvenking #the hobbit

[morningnoodles]

bilbo: hey, has thorin been acting different?

frodo: honestly, i haven't seen him. what did he say, when you asked him what's wrong?

bilbo: uh...

frodo: you didn't ask him? sheesh. it is a wonder you're not a landscaper, the way you beat around the bush.

#one of my favorite things in post-BotFA parentshield fix it fics is when young Frodo is So Done with his two overthinking dramatic uncles #incorrect hobbit quotes #incorrect bagginshield quotes #bagginshield #parentshield #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #thorin oakenshield #from abbott elementary

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

SOS #7

Okay since you cowards aren't getting with the program and drown these one-shots...😆 I'm going to change up the rules just a little bit. I'm still going to post these polls one day at a time asking you to "S.O.S" or "Let Them Drown". However, as far as which ones I'm going to write, I'll take the Top 4 by number of S.O.S. votes, and we'll do a run-off poll for the next 3 to determine the 5th place spot. I hope that makes sense. 🤣

Use your vote carefully! There are only 5 of these one-shots I am writing. You can see the complete list of possible one-shots here so you know where to use your vote.

This is for the following plot bunny:

Post-BOTFA- (Bagginshield) Thorin survives his battle to find Bilbo laying unconscious in the snow. Unable to carry him down, Thorin leaves him with his ring on to get help. Only he doesn't make it very far before collapsing. Waking in the healing tents, Thorin has to convince the Company to let him go find Bilbo before the storm rolls in.

You can vote "S.O.S" if you want to see me write it. Or you can vote "Let It Drown" if you would like to pass on it for a different one-shot. Remember, 5 of these darlings are going to drown somehow, some way.

#sos event #the hobbit #bagginshield #post-botfa #choose wisely #polls with the most sos get written

[blackarrcw]

@sapphircs | random starter.

The road to recovering their homeland had not been quite the easiest. With much stepping into their path trying to block the way, enemies chasing the company across the whole of Middle-Earth, it was certainly not a quest for the feint of heart.

Months had passed since the Battle of Five Armies. Erebor had been thriving under Dain's reign while Thorin and his nephews healed, each member of the line of Durin waking one by one over time. The elder of the three having woken up last due to how grievous his injuries were and how lucky he was to even have survived. They had all been lucky in their survival - with the elves as well as Tharkun helping in the aid. Another some few months would pass before either of the royals were able to fully walk around the halls of the mountain without any assistance or feeling as though they'd fall right there to their knees.

Eventually Thorin had been well enough to take the throne, coronation day having been set and whatnot between Balin and Dain. A thing that one would normally dread though Thorin had been raised to be prepared for times such as this, though it didn't mean that he wasn't without his fair share of nerves. Dwalin had tried his best to ease his friend and king, but no words given had settled the warrior's anxiousness. Usually speaking with either of the brothers of Fundin would have worked but for whatever reason; it hadn't seemed to work this time.

Damn it all.

There had been one last person he had not had the chance to see since his awakening, he'd missed her presence; her positivity - overall, her company. It would be a bit before he could break away from all of the meetings that had been scheduled, needing to get through the important parts first. As time would pass the meetings would end for the day allowing the brunette some time to himself. Once all had left the meeting hall, the warrior had slipped out last, a cloak in hand treading down the newly rebuilt halls of Erebor.

Thinya's shop his next destination.

#sapphircs #𝑨 𝑳𝑰𝑭𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫: post botfa #( muse: thorin oakenshield )