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shiinata-library · 1 year

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Imagine: Another man kisses you

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's reactions when another man kisses you.

Thorin

Thorin and you are courting for a short time, and as he is the King while you’re a simple woman, you prefer to hide it. Who could believe the King court you anyway?

You easily hide it until a night of festivities.

A banquet is held in honour of the spring festival. The King is with his family, friends, and some advisers while you’re in another corner of the big room of festivities with your friends. The night is fun and you eat and drink too much, so you sing and laugh non-stop. Then, a long friend of yours offers you to dance. It’s not the first time you dance with him, and you know he is a good dancer, so you accept.

The dance is nice and fun until you feel his hand on your back presses you against him and his lisp on yours. He acts too quickly given the quantity of alcohol you drank, but when you understand what’s happening, you move away from him. He holds you by the wrist and pulls a little. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I thought you–”

“Oh, hm, it’s alright,” you say as you try to take your hand back.

“It’s anything but alright,” Thorin says behind you with his sword in hand. He had run through the crowd with his sword, more furious than ever. The music stops, and everyone is looking at you, some of them whispering.

Thorin takes your hand from your friend and pulls you behind him. “If you touch, or even look at her once again, I kill you. Understand?”

Your friend is freezing while Thorin exclaims again, “Understand?”

“Y-yes, my King,” he eventually replies, trembling.

Then, after Thorin puts his sword away, he turns to you and kisses you in front of everyone. Not a simple kiss. A kiss that makes your knees weak and your breath hard.

“If anyone touches her, I’ll kill him!” he shouts to the crowd.

You pull his hand, so embarrassed by his behaviour, “Thorin, please calm down, they will believe it…”

“I hope they’ll believe it!” he smirks as he kisses you again before he pulls on your hand to follow him out.

Note: Out where? You know where, right? 😏

Fíli

“He what?” Fíli shouts, startling Kíli while he was telling his last evening in a tavern with you and other friends. “He knows my feelings about her and he still kissed her!”

Fíli is so furious that he doesn’t know how to calm down after hearing one of their friends kissed you. Well, now he is not one of their friends. “He was drunk, and you know it already, he likes her too. Maybe they’re together now. You should have talked to her when you could, and I shouldn't say that if I want to stay alive.”

Furious’ Fíli’s glare is now on his brother as he stands up from his chair. “Where are you going?” Kíli asks, looking at his brother walking to the door while the sky was dark and cold because of the snow.

“I must talk to her. Now,” Fíli says before he gets out and runs to you.

At the same time, you were closing your shop. Some customers inside were still hesitant on their purchase, but you don’t rush them. Leaning on your elbows on your counter, you’re thinking of the last night and the kiss your friend gave you. You’re glad Fíli wasn’t there because you don’t know how you could face him after that. You would have given anything for him to be the one who kissed you yesterday.

Lost in your thoughts, Fíli enters and runs to your counter, ignoring the customers. You’re so surprised that you can’t speak when he stops and looks at you. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair when he sees no news braids in your hair.

“Is there a problem, Prince Fíli?” you eventually ask while the customers are looking at you more than the things you sell. You let Fíli catch his breath when you take customers out of your shop to talk to him alone.

“Now, tell me what’s happening. You start to worry me…” you say as you walk in front of him.

He stands up straight, looks in your eyes and takes your hands. “Will you marry me?”

You obviously freeze. Surely for a long time since he ends up pulling your hands toward him, so that you take a step towards him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” you ask as you’re not sure to listen to him well.

Fíli raises a hand to your face and slowly puts it on your cheek. As his thumb strokes your lips, he looks at it, completely mesmerised by them. “Fíli?” you ask even though his hand doesn’t bother you at all, but his behaviour still worries you.

He leans so closer to you that you feel his breathing on your skin. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Then, you can’t help but smile when you understand his behaviour has something to do with yesterday. You barely have the time to say ‘yes’ that he draws you to a passionate kiss.

Breathless, he pulls away from you, his eyes sparkling, “I hope you said ‘yes’ for the two questions.”

Note: Alright, I got carried away. Now you’re married to him. Congratulations 🎉

Kíli

Tonight, you will do what you planned for days. Tonight, you will see if Kíli has feelings for you!

You've been friends with him for a long time, and as he is kind and flirty with everyone, you don’t know how you should take it. But, you, however, have feelings for him, and you want to know if you have a chance or not.

Speaking about it with him is obviously out of the question, so you planned to dance with a friend of yours tonight and see his reaction.

Here you are. In a warm, festive, and louder huge room to celebrate Durin’s Day. Food, ale, wine, music, drunk singers, drunk dancers, … The party has started for a long time and when you look at your friend with a smirk, he understands what you mean. He already knows your plan and he agreed with you, any pretext is good to annoy Kíli with all the jokes he has made to everyone.

Your friend is quite a good dancer and you have a good time with him. When the dance is over, he takes your hand to get you out from the dance floor, and as Kíli still hasn’t reacted, he presses you against him and kisses you. At first, you’re so surprised that you don’t react, but when you realise what he is doing, you pull away from him. “W-what are you doing? We–You–!” The surprise still makes you lose your words.

Kíli, from where he is, sees everything. Fíli doesn’t need to nudge him, but he does it anyway. “Did you see that? It seems it’s too late for you, brother.” But when Kíli sees you frowning and trying to move away from your friend, he stands up and walks toward you.

Your friend still presses you against him when Kíli arrives. “She doesn’t seem to like it, lad. Maybe you should release her.” The severe tone that Kíli uses surprises you. Your friend releases you immediately and walks away with a smile, without any apology. You will make him pay later.

“Follow me,” Kíli says as he takes your hand and pulls on it. He leads you in a quiet corner. You’re both alone and he ends up asking, “Are you alright?” as he puts his hands on your shoulders.

“No, I’m not. He–he kissed me!” you say, upset and embarrassed to be in front of Kíli after that.

“Yeah, I saw it,” he sighs as he strokes your shoulders, trying to comfort you.

“But-but I didn’t want it!” you exclaim as you raise your head to him, hoping he believes you just with your eyes and your words.

“You danced with him with such a cute smile, and you look like you’re having a good time. I can easily understand him. What did you expect?” Kíli’s eyes betray his calm tone. He tries to hide his irritation, even if his hands start to squeeze your shoulders unintentionally.

“What did I expect? I expected you would be jealous! I expected you would steal me from him!” you exclaim, hitting his chest with such weak strength that Kíli doesn’t even move. “I expected you would kiss me!”

You try to calm down, but you still exhale noisily from the nose, like a bull about to change its prey. Avoiding his eyes, you don’t see him smiling and says, “You danced with him on purpose to make me jealous.” It isn’t a question. “You should have come straight to me if you wanted to kiss me,” he resumes as one of his hands goes up to your cheek and the other goes down to your waist.

“I want you to kiss me only if you like me!” You look at him seriously. “Oh amrâlimê, it’s not a problem,” he whispers before kissing you.

Note: I always end up with an idiot in love with Kíli. I should try to change one day 🤷‍♀️

Bilbo

Bilbo and you started to court since the quest, and now you live with him in Bag End. You’re even betrothed, but no one knows yet.

You absolutely don’t know any Hobbits’ habits or customs, but you’re glad Bilbo teaches you them every day. They are simple and always nice.

Speaking of nice, Lobelia and her son Lotho are nicer than you thought compared to what Bilbo told you. You feel Lobelia doesn’t like you but she’s not mean to you, and her son helped you sometimes when you were lost in the marketplace.

Then speaking of Hobbits’ customs, tonight is one of Bilbo’s uncle's birthdays. You’re both invited, in fact almost everyone is. Bilbo doesn’t want to leave his home, but you are finally able to convince him.

When you say ‘birthday’, you say ‘cake’! As you’re walking with two plates of the birthday cake, one for you and the other for Bilbo, Lotho joins you with a smile. He is with his friends but he talks to you.

“Is this piece of cake for me?” he asks, showing a plate.

As you want to stay friendly with him, you nod with a smile, “yes, you can take it if you want.” Then, he takes it while one of his friends says, “Now the kiss!”

You look at him strangely, not understanding what he’s talking about. Lotho laughs lightly, “It’s just an old hobbit’s custom. When someone gives you a piece of cake, you must kiss him on the mouth, otherwise it's bad luck for the person who gets the cake.”

“Oh,” it’s the only thing you can say with a step away. Even if you don’t want to kiss him, you don't want to get Bilbo in trouble. So you kiss him quickly and all his friends shout of joy.

Bilbo, who was looking for you and his piece of cake, hears Lotho’s friends shooting and sees you in the middle of them with a strange behaviour. He walks to you with a smile, asking if everything is alright. You're hesitant to ask him if what you did is really a hobbit’s custom, but you’re too embarrassed to speak.

Then, Lotho says, “Your woman’s lips taste great!”. His friends laugh with him.

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo politely asks as he turns to him. Then, he turns back to you and notices your eyes getting wet. “What did you do, Lotho?”

“Me? Nothing,” Lotho continues to smile. “She is the one who kisses me. Right, Y/n?” This sly hobbit waited for a long time to find a way to break your relationship. Like his mother, he doesn't want to start a family with his cousin and so, keep him away from Bag End even more.

When Bilbo turns once again to you, you try to explain to him, but you can’t. You try to run away, but he grabs your hand. “What was it? Hmm strawberries and wine, I think,” Lotho continues.

Bilbo ignores him and takes your other hands. His eyes reassure you and you eventually explain everything to him. When you start apologising, he lets go of your hands and walks to Lotho, who is still laughing with his friends.

Without waiting, Bilbo grabs Lotho by the collar of his shirt and pulls him toward him. “I’m not a violent hobbit, but Lotho, I can promise you if you touch her once again, you won’t be able to speak for days. Have I made myself clear?”

You’re as frozen as Lotho’s friends. As for Lotho, Bilbo's grip is so firm that he can hardly speak. After Bilbo asks him again, he stammers a positive answer. He eventually lets him go and gives a last look to his friends before joining you.

You have never seen him so upset, not even during the quest. He takes your hands and pulls on it. You lean to him and he kisses you passionately. “Follow me home, we have to erase it better,” he whispers in your ear.

Note: The protective behaviour of the dwarves has rubbed off on him. 🤭

#the hobbit fanfic #thorin #kili #fili #bilbo #imagine #thorin x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader #bilbo x reader #fluff #mini angst

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estethell · 1 month

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Bilbo: Thorin! No... Thorin!! Thorin, look!! The eagles! We won!! Look, the eagles!!

Thorin: I want... to... look only... you... forever...

#the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #my heart is so sad #angst #sorry I'm a bad person

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 4 months

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What We Left Behind in the Flames

Chapter 10

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: sleeping arrangements are debated and a late-night talk with Bilbo has you reliving moments of your childhood with Thorin by your side

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst

Author's Note: Thank you sooo much for your patience with my new updating schedule (if you can really call it a schedule lol) If there is anyone I forgot to add to the taglist please just send me another message to let me know. Enjoy and have a happy new year :)

Word count: 1528

“Search to the back,” Thorin calls out to Dwalin, “caves in the mountain are seldom unoccupied.” The rest of the company starts to shuffle into the damp cave. “There’s nothin’ here,” Dwalin’s voice calls out and you all start to drop your things down in relief. “Right then,” Gloin rubs his hands together in anticipation, “let’s get a fire started!” “No,” Thorin stops him, “no fires, not in this place.” You shiver and pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders. There is a horrible draft in the cave and you’re already soaked to the bone from the rain storm. “Get some sleep,” he instructs you all, “we start at first light.” You plop your wet things down onto the cavern floor. Everyone’s starting to unpack the necessities for the night, unfolding bedrolls and blankets. Finding free spaces on the cavern floor to claim. You’ve never put much thought into where you slept when setting up camp with the company. If you were in a particularly bad mood, you’d sometimes try and sleep as far away from everyone as safely possible. But now that you stand here, shivering in your rain soaked clothing, there is only one thing you desire: warmth. And if you cannot have a fire, there is one enticing alternative…

Your gaze drifts to the other side of the cave where Thorin speaks with a frustrated looking Balin. The two are huddled closely together. Do you dare sleep next to Thorin tonight? The two of you had certainly crossed quite a few boundaries already, but only ever behind closed doors. Never while the rest of the company was there to witness any form of affection between the two of you. Would Thorin object to allowing them any kind of clue as to what has already transpired between the two of you? Do you even want them to know? It almost feels like admitting some sort of defeat. Thorin finally wore you down after all your claims of not being able to stand him. Fili and Kili would never let you hear the end of it. “Bofur,” Thorin calls out, “take the first watch.” He turns away from Balin, briefly catching your eyes as you stand there watching him, still frozen in indecision. You can tell he’s having the same internal debate over your sleeping arrangements. He averts his gaze from yours and instead turns his back to you, heading towards the furthest corner of the cave. Ouch That decision has been made for you then. It should bring you some relief but instead all you can feel is…hurt. But there’s really no reason to. Just because the two of you had been semi-intimate a couple of times doesn’t meant that you’re now…together. You aren’t even sure if you want to be with Thorin that way. Publicly, romantically, or however it was you used to imagine the two of you growing up. Back when you were just a young, foolish girl. So certain that the dashing dwarven prince you’d grown up with would be by your side forever. One way or another. Marriage and courtship were never anything the two of you discussed but Dwarven society demanded that you would both marry someday. Not long before Smaug arrived, your parents were already bringing by the occasional suitor. Desperate to try and marry you off, as if that would ever tame your wild nature the way they hoped it would. And of course Thorin would need a queen. A fully dwarven queen. Someone of status, not the half dwarf girl he spent all his time with. But even though you both knew you’d be married off eventually, it was always implied that you’d still be in each other’s lives. You’d been best friends since childhood, why would that ever have to change? You couldn’t imagine ever having to live without him. That is, until you did. Until he left you no choice.

You pick your things back up with a huff. Fine then. If we wants to give you an orgasm then immediately go back to being a grumpy asshole, that’s on him. You toss your pack against the cave wall. Angrily unpacking your things next to a very quiet Bilbo. Thorin has always been very hard on the hobbit, tonight especially. After nearly plummeting to his death over the slippery cliffside, the last thing he needs is Thorin’s aggressively cold shoulder. You feel bad for the poor thing, but you’re too busy festering in your own frustrations to say so. After piling on every single blanket you own, you angrily lay down to sleep. Glaring up at the cavern and pulling the blankets all the way up to your chin. Everyone else is already asleep. Snoring away in a deep slumber, clearly exhausted from the day’s journey. Your eyelids are starting to droop as well. But just before you can drift off, a soft voice whispers your name from beside you. Your eyes snap back open and you turn to look at a sheepish Bilbo. “Can I ask you something?” he whispers. You yawn and rub your eyes, turning onto your side to see him better. “I don’t mean to pry, but I heard some of the other’s mention you’re only half dwarf. Is that true?” “Yes,” you nod, “on my father’s side. My mother is-was a human.” “Is that common in Erebor?” he asks curiously. “Not at all,” you laugh quietly, “My father was a very well respected lord in Erebor. My mother was the daughter of a merchant from Dale. He would take any excuse he could to go into town and visit her stall. When they eventually decided to get married there was quite a fuss. My mother’s family wanted nothing to do with her- or me for that matter. But luckily my Father was very good friends with Thorin’s father, Thrain. They’d grown up together, they were as close as brothers. He blessed the union and when I was born he helped ensure that I was treated as a full Dwarven citizen, just like everyone else.” “It must have been hard growing up though, I can’t imagine everyone was as accepting as Thorin’s family.” “At times,” you admit, “but I had friends in high places. And people would rather hold their tongues around me than risk the wrath of those friends.” “You mean Thorin?” Bilbo asks bluntly, and you peek over your shoulder at your king, making sure he is still asleep. “Everyone says you two used to be thick as thieves, practically inseparable.” You can see the steady rise and fall of Thorin’s chest even from here. “He was my best friend,” you confess in a soft whisper, not tearing your gaze from him. Even in his sleep Thorin looks cross. That ever present frown still on his face as he holds his sword close to his chest, as if someone will attack him in his dreams.

“What happened?” Bilbo asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the memories of dragon fire and the anguished screams of your kin. “Smaug didn’t just take our home and our loved ones,” you can still feel Thorin’s strong arms wrapped around you as he drags you away from the flames, kicking and screaming in protest. “Every dwarf that walked out of those halls that day, did so with a piece of themselves missing. Joy, innocence; it all had to be left behind in the flames. Thorin had to step up and become a king, everyone was looking to him now. And I finally had the freedom I’d always longed for, but at a price I wasn’t willing to pay. We both had to leave behind our childhoods in Erebor, we had to grow up quickly to survive this new reality. We started to show our true colors, and neither of us liked what we saw.” “You were angry,” Bilbo translates, “both of you.” “There are many different kinds of anger, Master Baggins. His made him stubborn and afraid, mine made me reckless and bitter. Those don’t mix well together.” “I don’t see why you two can’t get that back now,” he insists, “you were both young and grieving, surely enough time has passed since then?” “Time has nothing to do with it,” you hiss, a sharper edge coming into your tone, “He’s done things I can’t forgive, and he’d never forgive me if he knew half the things I’ve done since we last parted ways.” “What have you done?” “You wouldn’t understand!” you snap, your voice slightly louder than you had intended. “Go to sleep, hobbit,” you insist, rolling onto your other side to turn your back to him. After a moment or so, you hear him settle back into his bedroll. Your gaze falls back to Thorin’s spot across the cave. You could have sworn you saw his eyes close as soon as you look back in his direction, but you’re too tired to care. Your eyelids droop as you fall into a deep sleep, dreaming about that view from the doorway of the inn, tears running down your face, curses and insults screamed at his back as Thorin walks away.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433

#thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader smut #thorin oakenshield smut #the hobbit #thorin oakenshieldx fem!reader #thorin oakenshield x afab!reader #thorin #thorin fic #thorin x reader #the hobbit fanfic #thorin x fem!reader #thorin oakenshield angst #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin smut #thorin angst #thorin oakenshield x reader angst #thorin x reader angst

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thesecretwriter · 1 year

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my king, my love - thorin oakenshield

pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female reader

warnings: angst – a fight with thorin, fluff – sweet moments from thorin & smut – in a library, minors dni.

summary: in which y/n and thorin are courting each other, and though they live in the same kingdom, they have never felt more apart.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: as promised, here is the thorin oakenshield fic. I will forever be a thorin Oakenshield loving girl.

minors/ageless blogs dni.

masterlists

“All I’m asking for is some time with you. I barely see you anymore,” you express sadly.

Thorin is aware of his absence from your side, and while he wishes he could spend every waking moment with you, the kingdom requires his attention too.

“The kingdom is thriving under you rule. Since the war of the five armies you have not rested,” you say frustrated.

“Amrâlimê… please,” he pleads with you to understand.

You have been nothing but understanding to Thorin. He needed to put himself first.

“King Thorin, you’re needed for a discussion regarding the trade,” one of the kingdoms advisers said interrupting you and Thorin.

You look away in defeat, you knew he would go to the discussion regardless.

He stepped toward you, but you retreated.

“You should go,”

He can hear the defeat behind your words.

With one last look to you, he followed the dwarf.

“I thought after the war things would be better,” you tell Bofur as you help him in the kitchen.

“His just doing what he believes is right,” Bofur tries to reason.

“Hasn’t he been doing that since the beginning?” you ask sadly.

Bofur smiles at you sadly.

“I think we should bake a cake,” Bofur suggested, he was trying to make you feel better and knew your love of sweet treats.

“That’s a good idea,” you smiled at him and began to take out what you needed for baking.

“Just a little taste,” Thorin heard Kili’s voice echoed through the halls.

“You better not, I will wack you with this spoon,” he heard you threaten.

Growing curious at the commotion, he followed the source of the noise and came to the sight of you trying to pry Kili away from your mixing bowl.

“Hello uncle,” Kili greeted.

You grew tense at his words and took that as your chance to continue mixing.

“What’s happening here?” his question was directed at you, but Kili answered.

“Our dearest y/n here is baking. She refuses for me to have a taste of the batter,” Kili complains.

“You better stop worrying her before she really does wack you laddie,” Bofur chuckles as Kili swipes his finger into the batter.

You gasp and hit him upside the head.

“Ow,” he rubs his head but enjoys eating the batter.

Your eyes finally meet Thorin’s eyes which hold longing in them.

“Your majesty,” you greet him by bowing your head.

Everyone in the kitchen freezes.

Not once have you ever addressed Thorin as that, he always made it known that you were his equal.

“Everyone out now,”

Everyone exits immediately. Just as you’re about to do the same, Thorin’s grip on your arm stops you.

“Not you amrâlimê,”

When he knows the other dwarves are out of ear shot, he turns you towards him and settles his hands on your waist, pulling you to him.

“You know I see you as my equal,” he murmured and moved a few stray strands away from your face.

“I’m addressing you as what you are, our king,” you say with no emotion.

“Please don’t say it like that,” he says sadly.

“Like what?” you say sharply.

“Like that is all I am to you,” he shouts.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you ask stubbornly.

He signs tiredly.

“To everyone else, yes, but to you I am Thorin,” he leaned in and settled his forehead to yours.

You don’t say anything else to him. He finds comfort in the silence and having you close to him.

“I miss you,” you whisper.

“I’m right here,” he insists pulling away.

“Yes, but you’re not here,” you take his hand and settled it on your heart.

His own heart skips a beat.

“What are you saying?” he asked scared of what you might answer.

“It feels as though I am not bound to you, as though you’re not my other half,” your words break with a sob.

Only then did he realise that you were crying.

“I am and always will be yours,” he assures you.

You can’t take the overwhelming of emotions you are feeling, so you step away from Thorin for some space.

“My heart has belonged to you since the beginning,” he says further.

“No Thorin. Your heart belongs to the kingdom, and maybe I’m being selfish in saying this, but I have not felt your love as of late,”

Thorin is rendered speechless by your words.

You knew your words hurt him, but this all you’ve been feeling lately and Thorin needed to know if before it escalated to mahal knows that.

“I need to go. Excuse me,” you say wiping your tear and walking out of the kitchen.

Thorin stood there and knew what he needed to do.

It had been 3 days since you had been avoiding Thorin. You exited any room he stepped foot in and even used others as an excuse to avoid interacting with him.

“I never knew the kingdom had a library,” you say to Balin as he guided you through the old hallways.

“The library has not been used since the time Thorin’s grandfathers ruled,” the door to the library had an emblem of ancient Dwarfish words.

“I’ll let you explore it las,” Balin said respectfully bowing his head.

You thanked him as your ran your hand over the door.

Just by the sight of it, you knew it was made by non-other than the dwarves themselves. You had seen Thorin make many objects with the skills he attained.

You unconsciously reach for the courting bead occupying a braid in your hair. The very same one that Thorin made just for you.

With a sigh, you push the doors of the library open. It was dimly lit inside, but not enough for you to not be able to see.

The smell of vanilla surrounded you, the scent being your favourite.

You walk into the library and take in the sight of the shelves occupied with books that tell the many tales and history of dwarves, elves, men, and creatures alike.

As you linger along the bookshelves, the sound of shuffling captures your attention. You reached for the satchel around your waist and grab your dagger.

“Who is there?” you ask cautiously making your way toward the noise.

You hear the noise again. “Show yourself,” you demand.

Coming out with his hands raised in surrender is Thorin.

He is dressed in clothing he once wore in the blue mountain, not the royal attire that you found him in as of late.

You put your dagger away.

“Why didn’t you say it was you?” you ask annoyed.

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to be in my company,” he answers.

You gawk at him.

Is he serious?

That is the opposite of what you wanted.

“That is the last thing I would do,” you say and walk toward him.

You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, in fact you had only been avoiding him to gain a clear thought process from the events of the days before.

He smiles in appreciation when you stand in front of him.

“What do you think of my attire?” he asked with a raise of a brow.

“Very handsome,” you reply in the same tone as his.

“I thought you would be busy,” you say to him curiously.

“It was about time Fili got some guidance in ruling the kingdom,” he casually states as he held his arm for you to take.

You loop in your arm in his and look to him questionably.

“I take it was no coincidence that Balin showed me the library then?” you ask.

“No. I asked him to bring you here. I know you find solace amongst books,” he answered and led you further into the library.

You walk past bookshelves and come in sight of a couch fitted for two, beside it a table with a candle and a few books.

“I thought it would be fitting for me to show you some of my favourite books,”

He motions toward the couch for you to sit, he takes a book from the table before joining you.

You watched him in awe as he flips through the pages.

He can feel your eyes on him but does his best to avoid making eye contact with you.

“This a story my mother would read me when I was little. Its about two dwarves who were in love but couldn’t be together due to their families’ differences,” he tells you.

You look down to the book and see that it has illustrations of the story. You run your fingers up and down the page, Thorin intwines his fingers with yours.

“Amrâlimê. Since the day my mother first read me this story, I made a promise to forever love the dwarf I would one day come to love,” he said finally meeting your eyes.

“Thorin-“ you’re cut off by Thorin.

“No. I need to say this,” he insists.

“I haven’t been true to my promise, and in the few days without you, it made me realise how easily I could lose my love,”

You shake your head at his words.

“Thorin, no matter the distance between us, I could never stop loving you. All I wanted was for you to take care of yourself,” you explain.

“I understand, but that does not take away from the fact that I have indeed been neglectful to you,” he leans forward, and you feel the tip of his nose touch yours.

You stare into his eyes, and they speak more words than you could ever verbally express.

He connects his lips to yours and pulls you impossibly closer to you.

You moan into the kiss when he makes you straddle him.

“‘miss you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“‘m right here,” you reply.

You pour all your emotions into the kiss, making sure Thorin is aware of just how much he means to you.

He hands roam your clothed body. When he goes to trail kisses down your neck, you come to your senses.

“Thorin, what if someone walks in,”

“They don’t know we’re here,” he states and goes to undo the lace at the back of your dress.

You could feel him harden beneath you.

“Been to long,” his words were becoming slurred on lust and love.

He easily undid the top of your dress and took time appreciating your breasts. You moan at the feeling of him teasing you.

He looks up at you in awe, never had he been so in love.

“I love you,” he says as he pulls back to look at you more.

“And I you,” you state.

He wraps an arm around your waist and moves so that he is above you and you lay beneath him. Your legs are secure around his waist.

“You’re addicting amrâlimê,” he lays kisses as he rids you of your skirt.

He takes the time to admire your beauty. Your chest rises from arousal and your lips are parted, craving to has his lips on yours.

He does quick work of taking off his own shirt and pants, the be as bare as you are.

“My love,” you announce as you reach for him. He smirks at your words and feels his pride rise.

You feel his cock brushing against your thigh and reach between the two of you to take hold of it, he hisses in reaction.

“Y/n,” he warns.

You rub the tip of his cock to your wet folds, coating his cock and make him moan in pleasure.

“Need to feel you,” he groans.

You align his cock with your entrance and move your hips forward, indicating for him to move as well. Thorin does not waste a moment. He puts all his body weight on you and fills you to the brim.

He swears in khuzdul under his breath, but does not hesitate to rock his hip forward, not leaving space between the two of you.

You are all but moaning in his ear and letting his know just how good he is making you feel.

“Thorin,” you plead.

“I know amrâlimê. I know,” he acknowledges your pouted lips and knitted brows.

He buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, feeling himself becoming intoxicated by you.

He knows you are close when he feels your nails scratching down his back.

“Yes amrâlimê, mark me as yours,” he encourages.

His words tip you over the edge, and your tightness makes him meet his moment. He kisses you through his orgasm and moans into your mouth.

All that can be heard in the quiet library is the sound of both of your laboured breathing.

“I want to marry you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Isn’t that the purpose of courting?” you ask with a chuckle.

He takes his cloak to cover the both of you as you cuddle on the couch. You cuddle into his check as his arms hold you close to him.

“I want there to be a wedding, soon,” he explains.

You peer at him in disbelief.

“You mean…”

“Yes, I mean that we should begin planning our wedding right away,” he chuckles at your expression.

“You mean it?” you ask.

“With every beat of my heart. I want to make you my queen.” He admits.

654 notes · View notes

y97dgu · 1 year

Photo

a young Thorin after cutting off his beard, in memory for those lost the sack of Erebor

#my art #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #erebor #smaug #lotr #jrr tolkien #tolkien #richard armitage #dwarvish #angst #remember when i drew funny cute thorin lol

1K notes · View notes

harrypoppinss · 1 year

Text

Prompt list

Masterlist here

💘𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜:

‘I’m glad you decided to meet up with me.’

‘I love hearing your voice.’

‘You’re my favorite person.’

‘You. Me. Friday night.’

‘I’ll trade you a kiss for a hug.’

‘You look so nice in my clothes.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘My favorite part of the day is seeing your face.’

‘Was there something you wanted to tell me?’

‘Do you feel any better?’

‘It’s my turn to cook tonight.’

‘What are we forgetting?’

‘I’ve got something to tell you. It’s a secret, so you can’t tell anyone else..’

‘You’re the only person for me.’

‘You smell nice.’

‘Since we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.’

‘Can I kiss you? If not, can I hold your hand?’

Person A: ‘Don’t fall asleep!’ Person B: falls asleep.

‘How did you get up here?’

‘Can I come with you?’

‘I promise I won’t tell anyone.’

‘I wish I could spend more time with you.’

‘As if I could forget your birthday..’

‘Before you go, can you stay a little longer?’

‘I love the warmth of your hugs.’

‘I was looking forward to seeing you all week.’

‘My friends say I talk about you all the time.’

‘I have something really important to ask you..’

‘I can’t believe she said yes!’

‘I never knew you felt this way.’

‘Your eyes are so blue.’

‘How come I haven’t seen you around here before?’

🔥𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜:

I missed you so much.”

“Like what you see?”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“You’re so perfect. And I’m so fucking lucky.”

“Try to stay quiet, understand?”

“We’re in public, you know.”

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Don’t be so rough. There can’t be any marks.”

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

“I like it when you say my name like that.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.”

“Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

“No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

“I thought maybe we can do a little more than just kissing.”

“Make me.”

“Stop teasing me so much…”

“You’re in trouble now.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“I’m waiting.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“As you wish.”

“First one to make a noise loses.”

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

“Mine.”

“The night’s still young.”

“We can’t do that here!”

“Behave.”

“What did you just say?”

“Come here.”

💧𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜:

“And that makes it okay?”

“Are you afraid to die?”

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?”

“Do you know what it’s like?”

“Hasn’t this addiction done enough damage already?”

“Why are your eyes so red?”

“How do you think this ends?”

“Why would I ever want to be with you?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Do you know what a gunshot wound feels like?”

“How am I supposed to go on?”

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“If I told you I hate you, what would you do?”

“Should you be drinking that much?”

“What if we just crash this car and make it all stop?”

“Do the drugs still get you high?”

“Am I the reason you cry every night?”

“When did you stop loving me?”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“How did things go so wrong?”

“When did things fall apart?”

“Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

“How do I make you love me again?”

“How much does it hurt knowing you lost me?”

“We’re you trying to destroy us?”

“How do you want to die?”

“Is the weight of it all finally too heavy?”

“Are you okay with having blood on your hands?”

“How do you sleep at night?”

“Can you still sleep at night?”

854 notes · View notes

rynneer · 2 months

Text

Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after a disaster in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

Cold.

You’re cold. It’s dark. You’re falling. Someone reaches for you. Too late.

The water folds in around you. It floods your nose. It floods your ears. Your limbs don’t work. You can’t swim.

Muffled shouts. You open your mouth to cry back. It fills with water.

Choking.

Drowning.

Drowning drowning drowning dr–

You wake with a jolt, sitting up in bed.

Bed?

You pat the sheets around you. Yes, you’re definitely in a bed, not curled up on the leaf litter in Mirkwood.

“I guess it really was a dream,” you whisper, shoulders slumping. But as you run your fingers across the hem of the blanket, you frown. It doesn’t feel like the old quilt on your bed. It’s thicker, softer.

Something is wrong.

You look around the room as your eyes begin to adjust. There’s a fireplace across the room, the dying embers casting just enough light to let you make out the vague shapes of furniture in the darkness. The walls and floor are stone, adorned with plush rugs. The wind rattles the shutters outside the window, hidden behind thick curtains.

This is not your bedroom… and you are not alone. A dark figure stirs next to you beneath the covers. You scramble out of bed but find the floor farther away than expected. You land hard on your side. “Ow!”

You slap your hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. The figure sits up with a groan, rubbing at its face and leaning to peer over the edge of the bed at you. There’s no mistaking that mustache, those braids.

“Fíli? What… where are we?” And why are we in bed together?

Fíli blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks hoarsely, his voice rough. He rolls out of bed and kneels in front of you. “We’re home. In Erebor? You know, the mountain? Big pile of rocks and snow? It’s rather hard to miss.” He raises an eyebrow, trying to coax a smile from you.

Instead, you scoot backwards, putting space between you and the prince as you process his words. “But we were just in Mirkwood,” you protest. “How did we get here?”

Fíli’s confusion turns to concern. “Y/N, that was a year ago.” He shifts closer and brushes a thumb over your cheek. “Are you feeling alright?”

You stiffen against his touch, heart in your throat. Ever the gentleman, he’s never touched you without permission before. But something about the way his palm cups your face feels familiar. “I don’t know,” you whisper, shaking your head. “All I remember is falling into the stream.”

“You don’t remember the elves? Fighting for the mountain? All the time we spent together?” He uncovers a long braid in your hair. “Our wedding?”

“Wedding?!” It’s true, you’ve harbored feelings for Fíli since the two of you met in Bag End. You’d admired him in the book and movies, and to see him for real… it did something to you. But you never thought he would return your affections—how could he? You’re a plain, young woman from another world, and he’s a handsome prince, heir to the throne.

Fíli searches your face, expression unreadable. Finally, he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on.”

You take it hesitantly. His fingers lace through yours, and he helps you to your feet. Strangely, you find that instead of being taller than the dwarf, you’re just level with his chin. But before you can comment on this, Fíli pulls you out the door and down a narrow hallway.

He leads you to a large sitting room, taking you to the sofa next to yet another fireplace. “Wait here,” he orders softly. “I’ll fetch Thorin.”

“Thorin’s alive?” you breathe. “What about Kíli?”

“Kíli would like to know what the pair of you are doing up and chattering in the middle of the night,” replies a voice from behind you. The youngest Durin leans against the wall with his arms crossed, hair still tousled from sleep.

You tip back your head and close your eyes. “They did it,” you sigh in relief. “Oh, thank God, they did it.”

Kíli raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Fíli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get Thorin first. I would rather not explain this twice.”

“Again.” Thorin paces in front of the fire.

You rub your forehead. “I told you, that’s it,” you groan. “I fell in the water and woke up here.”

Kíli shakes his head. “It makes no sense.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Thorin flashes you a warning look.

“It was no ordinary stream,” Fíli points out. He sits with you on the couch, his hand resting on top of yours. Every once in a while, he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “It had some sort of foul magic. She wouldn’t wake for days.”

“If it’s magic that we’re dealing with,” you glance at Thorin warily before continuing, “it might be a good idea to talk with the elves.”

“Absolutely not,” Thorin snaps. His lip curls in disgust. “I refuse to invite them to interfere in our private matters.”

Kíli’s eyes brighten. “What about Gandalf, then? Where would we find him?”

They all look to you. You close your eyes, teasing and tugging at the cobwebs that cloud the part of your mind where your Middle Earth knowledge is stored. “He’s… there’s no guarantee we even could find him. Gandalf doesn’t have a home, exactly. He wanders. They don’t call him the Grey Pilgrim for nothing.”

“So we don’t know where Gandalf is,” Fíli starts slowly, “but we do know where the elves are.”

“And Gandalf wasn’t in Mirkwood with us,” you add. “There’s no guarantee he even knows about the enchanted stream—but Thranduil definitely would.”

Thorin crosses his arms. “Out of the question.”

“Did you not make peace with Mirkwood?”

“Peace does not mean friendship,” Thorin retorts. His voice, raised in frustration, echoes off of the polished stone walls. Down another hallway, you hear a door slam. Thorin groans at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“And just what in Mahal’s name is everyone shouting about at this hour of night?”

A new dwarf steps into the firelight. In the dim light, she almost looks like a copy of Thorin. But as she approaches, you can see her features are softer, her eyes rounder, her beard thinner. And there’s no mistaking the Durin glare that she levels at Thorin, her blue eyes just as piercing as they are tired.

You glance at Fíli with uncertainty. He squeezes your hand and leans close to murmur in your ear. “It’s just Amad. Mother,” he translates when you don’t seem to understand.

Dís. You nod quickly.

Thorin looks at you, then back to his sister, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised expectantly. As they exchange words in their rough native tongue, Dís’s expression of irritation turns to one of soft, motherly concern. She comes closer to you and gently brushes away a few strands of unruly hair from your face. “You must be tired, natha.”

“Daughter,” Fíli whispers.

“A bit,” you reply quietly, finding yourself suddenly shy with the full attention of a mother focused on you.

“Poor dove,” Dís tuts. She straightens up and pats you on the shoulder. “Fíli, take your lass back to bed. We will speak in the morning.” Thorin looks like he means to protest, but Dís silences him with an icy glare. Planting a kiss on the top of your head, she pushes Kíli and Thorin back down their opposite hallways. Fíli pats your hand and follows her quickly, his words in Khuzdûl fading as he gets further away.

Finally alone, you let out a long sigh. For the first time, you get the chance to look yourself over, to see what has changed. Your hair is longer, brushing the small of your back. When you run your fingers through it, you find braids styled to match Fíli’s. A dwarven marriage custom, perhaps? There’s a thin, gold band on your finger, too, lined with tiny sapphires that sparkle in the firelight. A little smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; at least you kept some piece of your own marriage customs.

And while Fíli has been bare-chested this whole time, you’re wearing a dark green shirt, no doubt one that used to be his. It’s long enough on you to serve as a nightgown. A blush rises on your face when you realize the deep v-neck exposes the dip between your breasts—and has been exposing it to everyone else this whole time.

“Amrâlimê?” Fíli’s voice from the hallway is soft. He pokes his head into the sitting room. “Aren’t you going to come to bed?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, suddenly very interested in the fireplace. In anything that isn’t Fíli’s too-kind face. “Do you want me to?” you ask hesitantly.

It’s silent for a few seconds. Fíli sighs heavily and comes to kneel before you, taking your hands in his. “Y/N, you are my wife. Of course I want you to come to bed. It is our bed.” His eyes search yours, desperately looking for the light he knows should be there. “Do I not have your love?”

“I mean, sure,” you reply softly. Your voice is strained. “I just… I don’t understand how I have yours. You’re the crown prince, you’re perfect. And I’m just… me.”

“You are so much more than that,” Fíli murmurs. “You are everything to me.” He kisses your forehead and stands. Before you can say anything, you’re swept up in his arms. Startled, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to avoid falling, but he carries your smaller frame with ease.

You frown, remembering your observation from earlier. “Shouldn’t I be taller than you?”

“Ah. Well.” Fili’s chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your cheek. “That’s all that we thought the stream did. Make you properly sized.”

“Properly sized?” you repeat in disbelief. “You call this properly sized?”

“You complained about it endlessly,” Fíli continues. A playful smile tugs at his lips. “Until you realized how well you fit in my arms.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m also handsome, charming, brave…”

“Shut up.” You smack his shoulder lightly, but hide a smile as you tuck your head beneath his chin. Maybe you can get used to this.

But as he kicks open the door to his—your—room, and you see the bed with its rumpled covers, you tense.

“Y/N?” Fíli’s breath tickles your neck.

“It’s… just a lot, all at once,” you mumble.

He squeezes you, then lowers you gently to the bed. “I understand,” he murmurs.

“You really don’t, though.” Pent-up frustration simmers within you. “When’s the last time you fell into a stream, woke up, and found out a year had passed and you’re married?”

“Are you upset that we’re married?” Fíli asks, his face falling.

You feel a pang of guilt for snapping at him. This can’t be any easier for him. Running your hand through your tangled hair, you shake your head. “It feels like one moment, I was a girl with a crush, and then I wake up, and suddenly I’m a married woman. I’ve missed out on everything.”

“It’s in there, somewhere,” he whispers, stroking your cheek. You flinch away, your body unsure of how to react to his touch. Hurt flickers across his face, but he pulls back. “Can I fix your braids?” he asks. There’s desperation in his eyes.

Recognizing his need to touch you in whatever way he can, you nod slowly, and turn. The gentle, rhythmic tugging as he combs and re-braids your hair is hypnotic, and you find your eyelids drooping.

“There,” Fíli says, turning you back to him. He smiles sadly. “Beautiful as ever.”

Your heart aches. Whether it aches for him, the dwarf searching for his loving wife in the uncertain girl before him, or yourself, longing to be that loving wife, you do not know.

After a moment of hesitation, you lean in and reward him with a quick kiss on the cheek. His beard is prickly against your lips. “I’m tired,” you whisper when you draw back.

The kiss brings a real smile to his face, however small it may be. Fíli pulls back the covers and you wriggle underneath them. You settle into a dip worn down into the mattress from hundreds of nights before. Fíli slides into place behind you, his chest against your back. You stiffen slightly, but force yourself to relax.

“Is this alright?” His deep, quiet voice vibrates through your body.

You nod. He can have a little cuddle, as a treat. As an apology.

He takes that as a signal to test the limits further. You can tell he’s holding his breath as he drapes his arm over your waist. “Is this alright?”

“It’s cozy,” you mumble sleepily, letting the warmth of his body overwhelm you.

Fíli lets out his breath, pulling you tightly against him and nuzzling his face into your hair.

As you drift off, you do your best to pretend you don’t notice his quiet tears.

You began to stir, finding your face pressed into something warm and firm. As you tried to pull away to look around, you were met with resistance. You made a disgruntled noise.

“Y/N?!” Suddenly, a hand yanked your head backwards. Wide eyes searched your face frantically. You just barely registered who held you before he pulled you back in a crushing embrace. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“Fíli?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his coat. “Can’t breathe.”

He released you, finally letting you get your bearings. The two of you were alone in a small, stone cell. Torchlight flickered just outside the wrought iron bars, casting a dim, orange light into your cell.

A shadow crossed over the door. “Oh, so she is alive. Here, then.” An apple landed on the ground in front of you, followed by a waterskin. “That’s the most you get until tomorrow. Make it last.” The shadow retreated, footsteps echoing down a long hallway.

Pieces began to slot into place in your mind. You nodded slowly. Mirkwood, elves, imprisonment. “How long have we been in here?”

“A few days at most, given how often they’ve brought food and water. But it’s hard to tell.” Fíli seemed distracted, eyes scanning your body. “How do you feel?”

You frowned and patted yourself up and down. “A bit sore, but I think I’m fine.” You untangled yourself from Fíli and tried to stand on shaky legs, your knees instantly failing beneath you.

Immediately, he jumped up and grabbed your waist from behind to steady you. “Y/N?” His voice was soft. “Y/N, please do not be alarmed when you turn around.”

“What?” You twisted in his grasp and looked up into his concerned face.

Up. You had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He was big. You tried to back away but the space was so narrow, you collided with the wall after just a single step. “You’re taller,” you stated, almost robotically. “But you’re a dwarf. You can’t be taller than me. I’m supposed to be the taller one. How did you get taller?”

“I did not get taller,” he corrected you. “You got smaller.”

You just stared at him blankly. Fíli sighed, gently taking hold of your arm and easing you back to the ground. He took the apple from the floor and placed it in your hand. “Eat,” he ordered quietly. “You haven’t had any food in days. It was hard enough to get water into you.”

Instead, you rolled it between your palms absentmindedly. “How long was I out?”

“Just over a week. We were trying to cross a stream, and you fell in.”

“Instead of Bombur,” you interjected.

Fíli raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. Glóin managed to snag you,” he continues, “and when he pulled you out, you were… well, smaller. But you wouldn’t wake up. You even slept through the spiders. I was so afraid that you were gone before I could tell you–” he broke off, his voice thick. He tore his eyes away from yours, a blush rising on his face.

“What?” You reached out and took hold of his chin, turning his face back to you. Yet his eyes still avoided you. You crawled closer, kneeling between his outstretched legs. Your traitorous heart pounded hopefully against your ribs. “Tell me what, Fee?”

He shook his head. “No, no, it’s foolish. I shouldn’t… you wouldn’t…” Finally, he looked back up at you. “I love you?” He phrased it as a question, his blue eyes filled with hesitation. It was strangely endearing, seeing the normally confident prince so bashful. Fíli lifted a cautious hand to your cheek, fingers just barely brushing your skin.

Surprise temporarily robbed you of your voice. Mistaking your silence for rejection, Fíli quickly pulled his hand away. Shame and hurt flashed across his face. “Forgive me,” he blurted out, ducking his head. “I should not burden you with feelings you can never return.” He pulled his legs back in and moved further into the shadowy recesses of the cell.

But you crawled after him, refusing to let him go that easily. “Fíli, why didn’t you say anything?” When he remained silent, you wound your fingers up in one of his braids and tugged, forcing him to turn his head towards you. “Why are you so sure that I can’t feel the same?”

A cautious spark of hope flared to life in his eyes. “Because you’re perfect, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You deserve so much more than I can give.”

You smiled, eyes tracing his face. The gold locks that framed it, the sky blue eyes, the flushed cheeks. And those soft, pink lips, parted ever so slightly as he awaited your next words.

But words were the furthest thing from your mind. Refusing to hold back any longer, you grabbed Fíli by the collar, lunging forward to claim his mouth.

His eyes widened, then fluttered shut as his hands grabbed at your waist. Fíli pulled you back into his lap and wrapped his arms around you, reaching up to comb through your tangled hair with his fingers.

A rock clanged against the bars of your cell. “Get a room!” came Kíli’s voice, echoing down the hall.

You broke away with a laugh. “This is a room!”

Kíli’s only response was a disgusted groan as Fíli grabbed at your face for more.

#fanfiction #fíli #kíli #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #dís #fili x you #fili x reader #modern girl in middle earth #amnesia #falling back in love #everybody lives #soft Fíli #angst and hurt/comfort #it gets angstier before it gets fluffier

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lathalea · 10 days

Text

Entangled 2/10

The first question I'd like to ask you today is: Do you remember a little fic called The Best Day of My Life I wrote a while back? Don't worry, me neither ;) It simmered in my head and what started off as a standalone ficlet, grew into something bigger. Back then, it was written in the first-person narrative, but as it grew into a longer story in my head, I decided to change the subsequent chapters to the third-person perspective. This story was born from an inspiration I found when researching certain medieval traditions, especially when it comes to arranged marriages in royal families, and the role women played in these arrangements. It inspired me to wonder what it would look like in Dwarven societies of Middle Earth. I hope you enjoy it! Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past… You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea). Special thanks for @legolasbadass for all your help and support 💙 ✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ...

Khuzdul: Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor) Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd - King and Queen Under the Mountain

TA 2942, one year after the Reclamation of Azsâlul'abad

“Your Majesty, My Lady, brothers and sisters in stone, we have all eagerly waited for this moment,” The High Priest’s sonorous voice rang out in the festively decorated Great Hall of the Lonely Mountain. “May the Pleating Ceremony commence!”

It was happening.

Mista swallowed. It felt as if the eyes of every single person present in the cavern were on her. As instructed earlier, Mista took off the veil that had covered her hair which was unbraided and adorned only with minuscule diamonds, and stepped stiffly towards the King. Her hands were clammy, and she tried not to stumble. The slippers and the opulent ceremonial gown she wore were incredibly uncomfortable and heavy. What a blunder it would be if she landed on the floor face down at that very moment! The court etiquette did not forbid her to wear her glasses, so at least she could see her surroundings clearly… including the crowds that gathered for the ceremony in the Great Hall.

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, then something brushed against her temple. Mista flinched like a startled pony.

“No need to be alarmed, My Lady.” A low, rumbling murmur reached her ears. It was the King’s voice; she could have recognized his calm, confident manner everywhere. “Allow me to choose a suitable lock of your hair.” “By all means, Your Majesty,” Mista mumbled, feeling how close he stood to her, his arm brushing against hers, and how his fingers slowly ran through her hair. She did not know that a male touch could be so gentle. The only people allowed to touch her hair before this day were her mother, sister, and personal maid.

“Thank you, My Lady. Would you allow me to compliment you?” the King said and, not waiting for her reply, he added. “I do not think I have seen such exquisite hair before.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself. Did the King himself truly think her hair was exquisite? A realisation dawned upon her. Of course not; he must have referred to its uncommon length, that was all. It was the only source of Mista’s pride — perhaps the colour of her hair was plain and common, but she had always kept it long, and currently it reached almost to her knees. And now, the King’s nimble fingers ran through it, once, twice, and then began pleating her hair slowly, each of his movements deliberate. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, but even then, she did not dare to open her eyes especially when the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, making her tremble at the sensation.

“It may help you to imagine that there is only you and me here.” His quiet voice reached her again.

“Pardon?” Mista’s breath hitched.

“During straining official functions I tend to imagine that there are only stone statues around me, carved in amusing poses. It helps to tackle the nerves.”

Mista’s eyes fluttered open and met the King’s azure gaze. An encouraging smile danced on his lips moments before he returned to braiding.

“I did not know someone like you could feel… nervous, Your Majesty,” she heard herself say.

“My coronation felt ten times worse than facing the enemy during the Battle of the Five Armies.” His reply made Mista chuckle. His smile widened, making his handsome face even more alluring. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe, simply staring at him.

Click.

The King clasped his bead around her new braid. Gold encrusted with onyx contrasted with the plainness of her mousy hair, but the pattern made it somehow more refined. She took the braid into her hand and admired its even, elegant weaves.

“It is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

The King gave her a thankful nod. Mista felt his intent gaze on her. His Durin’s apple bobbed. Something was not right… Why were his features so tense?

It took her a moment to understand. With her cheeks burning, she took a step towards him. How could she have forgotten that now it was her turn?

“May I…?” Her voice failed her, but no words were necessary. The King lowered his head towards her, his hair flowing freely in front of her eyes.

With trembling fingers, she picked a thick lock of hair on his left temple and divided it into four parts. His hair was smooth and thick, making her think of a wolf’s fur, but it smelled like sweet oils from faraway lands in the South. Mista wanted to keep on braiding it for as long as she could. She thanked Mahal that she knew her personal pattern by heart — otherwise, she would have surely entangled his hair or ended up with a bunch of knots instead of the braid. Focused on plaiting it, she forgot about everything around her — there was only the King, Thorin, the Dwarf who unknowingly captured her heart a long time ago. Now, with every weave, she was willingly bestowing her whole self upon him.

Her bead was made of bronze and tiny sapphires from the Blue Mountains. For some reason, it refused to close around the King’s braid, making Mista sigh, but then one of his large, warm hands encircled her fingers that held the bead, and pressed it harder together.

Click.

It was done.

Mista’s heart beat faster and faster as the King Under the Mountain took her hands into his. They were facing each other in a way that allowed everyone gathered in the Great Hall to see them from the side.

“Foreheads,” the High Priest whispered, barely moving his lips, holding something in his hands that glinted in the light of hundreds of lanterns.

The King squeezed her hands gently and lowered himself towards her once more. Mista took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes so that their foreheads could meet.

His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his nose brushed against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but the last thing she saw were his lips, slightly parted, and so close, so very close to hers, and there was his beard too, and she wondered how it would feel if…

“What Mahal has joined over the marriage anvil, no power shall break apart until the end of days,” the High Priest exclaimed, his voice loud and clear, like the sound of a gunmetal bell, drowning all of her inappropriate thoughts.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, Mista, daughter of Milva, you are now husband and wife. Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd!”

Loud cheers filled the spacious cavern as the white-bearded priest bound their hands together with a thin but unbreakable mithril chain — a symbol of the eternal bond they forged a moment ago. This was one of the most revered traditions of Mahal’s Children: Dwarves married only once. Mista read a treaty once that explained the origin of this ancient tradition: one of the oldest Dwarven legends said that each of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves had one spouse, and that each couple was made from one piece of stone, destined to be always together, as one mind, body, and heart. A long time had passed since Mista was an overly romantic lass who believed that each Dwarf had their beloved Other Half somewhere in the world. Now she was over one hundred and thirty years old, and during her lifetime, she saw too many dalliances, clandestine affairs, and broken promises to believe that her people were capable of loving only once and only the right person. Dwarves were a fiery race, with molten lava running in their veins rather than cold pieces of rock. Nevertheless, their marriages were the cornerstones of society, crucially important to every family, and so a wedded couple was supposed to be like a rock: steady and unbreakable. That was Mahal’s will, as the priests said. Therefore, the dissolution of marriage was impossible. If a Dwarf broke their marital vows — which, as dishonourable as it was, happened from time to time — they would still remain married to their spouse. Even death did not end it, as her people believed that they would remain married even in the afterlife, in the Halls of Awaiting. That was why Dwarven courtship would often last many years so that the future spouses had ample time to know each other well before they made this irreversible decision.

Mista’s courtship lasted one month. That was how much time Lord Tair, her father, needed to finalise negotiations with the King Under the Mountain. During that time, she never saw her future husband. That was to be expected — the Blue Mountains were almost half a world away from King Thorin II’s kingdom, Azsâlul'abad. Instead, his envoys arrived with the marriage contract signed in his own hand and a chest filled with customary gifts for his future bride: jewellery, hair combs, and a traditional courtship cloak. There was also a letter addressed to her. It contained all the obligatory niceties along with His Majesty’s apology for his absence due to the fact that his kingdom was being rebuilt and needed all of his attention at the moment. He assured his bride, however, that he was looking forward to meeting her in person and offering her as much hospitality as he had received in Tumunzahar years ago.

He remembered.

Over one hundred years had passed, and he still remembered his visit to her home city. Precisely like Mista. She never forgot how gallant and handsome he was, how his words dried her tears, and how he made her feel as if she, the ugliest girl at the feast, were the only woman in the whole world.

Perhaps that mawkish idea of Dwarves finding their Other Halves was not true, but she was certain of one thing: she still loved the same Dwarf as she did all those years ago. Her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

And now she was his wife. Her eyes were still set on the glistening links of the mithril chain that joined her hands when she heard the High Priest’s words.

“My King, My Queen.” He bowed with reverence, “It is time for your wedding feast.”

The only thing she could think of at that very moment was how good her hand felt in her lord husband’s reassuring hold.

***

The feast that celebrated their nuptials was an event like no other. Mista had never seen any revelries that were full of equal splendour. Countless guests from all seven dwarven realms were entertained by minstrels, musicians, dancers, and other performers. The food was delicious; wine and other liquors flowed endlessly, like the River Running, and everyone was merry. Mista sat on a grand chair placed on the King’s right hand. Now, both of them wore their crowns and royal insignia, and together, as the newlywed ruling couple of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, they accepted countless toasts and congratulations from the well-wishers throughout the evening. Mista tried her best to act with decorum worthy of the queen she had become hours ago, and she even managed to appear unflustered whenever the customary “May Mahal bless your union with countless heirs!” reached her ears.

From time to time she managed to steal a glance at the King’s – her new husband’s – majestic profile, struggling to believe that this day was not a dream. But then she remembered the marriage braid hanging at her temple – and a similar braid in his hair. She truly was the great Thorin Oakenshield’s wife.

It was two bells after midnight when the weariness started to creep up on her.

“Is the feast to your liking, lady Mista?” the King turned to her, clearly noticing her attempt at stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it is! Forgive me, the celebrations took a toll on me, I’m afraid,” she explained, feeling the growing heaviness of her crown on her temples.

“It is perfectly understandable,” Princess Dis, the King’s sister, said. “It has been a long day. Perhaps it is time for you to repose.”

“May I…? Does the protocol allow it?” Mista took a hopeful look around the Great Hall where the feast was as lively as it was at its very beginning.

“May I remind you that now you are the Queen?” the King offered. “You may leave whenever you wish to do so.”

“And my brother will accompany you,” Princess Dis interjected, and then addressed the King. “Tonight you are only allowed to leave together.”

Mista caught a strange look they exchanged, and – after a noticeable pause – King Thorin said, “Very well.”

“Shall we, then?” He rose from his chair and held out his hand to Mista.

Leaving the Great Hall was not as easy a task as Mista expected. They had to endure another round of the official farewells, wedding toasts and felicitations from their numerous guests.

“Have a wonderful night!” Princess Dis exclaimed in a sing-song voice as they were stepping over the threshold.

“Aye, and a long one, too!” Dwalin, the King’s Captain, added, and they both laughed.

Their words sounded innocently enough for Mista at first, but they made the King clear his throat in visible embarrassment.

And then it dawned on Mista. One more thing awaited her.

The wedding night.

✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... 💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

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