#thorin oakenshield x female oc

[lathalea]

Hey, I'm the anon who was asking why people are writing Thorin with all these modern quips.

Thank you for your answer and your awesome pictures of Thorin!

I sadly think you may have misunderstood where I was coming from, though.

I never am against people being creative..I have no problem with people expanding their minds to come up with so many different ideas and scenarios. The people reblogging from you made me look like a complete heartless jerk saying that people should be free to write whatever they want and I'm just an oppressor, pretty well.

If anything, my point is, people are always writing fanfic with the same narrow minded ideas..they really aren't as creative as people think.

They are filled with utter political correctness and Marxism. This stuff is more narrow minded than being creative, as we see it in every tv show, movie and video games, even! It's everywhere! But, this is considered creative when this is all we ever see in storytelling? This is why I felt you misunderstood me, and so did everyone else.

If people are being truly creative, they wouldn't keep putting these same ideologies in stories. You know how many Thorin stories I couldn't finish cause the women are usually written as the same tropes over and over again? Always feminists, and just knows how to fight, somehow, or always has an attitude..this is how women are written in pretty well any type of entertainment, these days.

Hope this helps you understand more where I'm coming from.

(Mandatory Thorin swooning material here.)

Hi again, Anon! 

I’m glad you’ve read my reply. Rest assured, I understood everything very well – including the fact what kind of fanfiction tropes you like the most and the ones you don’t. As for the latter, I simply hope that doesn’t include the Thorin fans who have fun together with me whenever I open Thorin’s Ask Box and reply humbly ask our King Under the Mountain to kindly reply to everyone’s questions.

It’s good to know that you didn’t mean to come off like “a complete heartless jerk”. It happens sometimes that we write certain things under the influence of strong emotions and click “send” before taking a deep breath and re-reading what we wrote. I understand, no worries. But I’m sure you see how your words can be interpreted by others. And I’m certain you know — probably even better than me — that proper wording matters a lot, especially in English. Because it is not my first language, I’ve learned to be ultra careful when putting my thoughts into words here on Tumblr (or anywhere in the Internet) — otherwise I can come off as the aforementioned “complete heartless jerk” and no one wants to be that person, right? 

If anything like this ever happens again, I’d like you to know that you can always drop in to my ask box and clarify further what you had in mind. I will be happy to convey your reasoning to my followers as I’m doing it now.

Anyway, I’m glad that you decided to clarify your thought process and we went from the initial confusion of “strange gender ideologies” to the problem of the Original Female Characters and their portrayal in fanfiction — which is a very interesting issue worthy of a separate discussion (another one I’d love to have). But let’s dive into your ask.

(Just look at his majestic profile!)

“If anything, my point is, people are always writing fanfic with the same narrow minded ideas..they really aren't as creative as people think.”

(I have skipped the part about the main popculture categories because it’s a separate topic, but I’d love to discuss it with you on another occasion. I think it would be a very interesting exchange of opinions.)

Let’s focus on fanfiction for now, specifically, Thorin fanfiction because I see we both care for this character a lot.

I’m glad that in your ask you decided to challenge the fanfic writers and encourage them to broaden their horizons and try harder! It’s always good to improve. And speaking of improvement, remember when I said “proper wording matters”? I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to offer you a piece of advice I got from a good friend once: I’ve learned that it’s best to avoid categorical statements containing words like “always” or “never” when discussing things in public to avoid being misunderstood or coming off as confrontational. Some of the people who will read this may think that you are either offending fic writers on purpose (which I���m sure is not the case) or have a limited knowledge of fanfiction (and you seem like a well-read person). It is much better to say “It feels to me that many people write fanfic with the same narrow-minded ideas because…” (I’d like to hear your reasoning by the way!) 

Let’s leave dealing in absolutes to the philosophers and theologians, okay? :)

Now, let’s get back to Thorin fanfiction.

(Just look at that hair!)

"If people are being truly creative, they wouldn't keep putting these same ideologies in stories. You know how many Thorin stories I couldn't finish cause the women are usually written as the same tropes over and over again? Always feminists, and just knows how to fight, somehow, or always has an attitude..this is how women are written in pretty well any type of entertainment, these days."

I must admit I’m a bit sad that you happen to find only this type of Thorin x OFC fics. At the same time, I have to agree with you that there are certain repetitive tropes and traits that make many OCs boring, or worse, make them look like a Mary Sue. In mainstream media, it is very common to portray a female character as “strong” by putting a sword or gun into her hands, but for me, it is much more interesting to see either this type of physically strong character, but marked by flaws or torn by conflict, or a more feminine type of character whose strength that comes from within. At the same time, I realize that this type of character (“badass girl with a sword”) has become very popular and perhaps that is why I get easily bored by it nowadays, because the world of popculture is oversaturated with them, as you said it yourself. But I believe that a good writer can write a character like this and keep me engaged if there is interesting depth to that OC. 

Either way, I totally understand that you may feel tired when seeing this trope, but I also know there are tons and tons of various stories available online though browsing through them may feel like a chore sometimes. But don’t worry, I happen to have read quite a few Thorin fics (it should be clear to you by now that I have no life ;)), and some of them were really good. I have prepared a short list of Thorin fics with interesting protagonists from many different places (ff.net, AO3, Tumblr) — you’ll find it below. I hope that after checking out these stories and reading those stories, you can perhaps feel a bit of relief knowing that there are quite a few interesting female protagonists around.

Here we go (a general warning, many of the fics below contain NSFW scenes):

💕 @technoelfie - check out the Thorin masterlist - stories like The Long Dark and its sequel contain an OFC that is everything but badass, even though she comes from the modern times. And the story is very much canon in all the right places.

💕 Kkolmakov’s fic Me Without You - a perfect example of how you focus on canon, provide the readers with a feminine OC (and Wren, the protagonist, is very far from a classic Mary Sue), and weave an engaging story inspired by Thorin’s works. Check out her other Thorin stories on ff.net, they are full of great ideas! 

💕 @legolasbadass - check out the Heart of Gold fic on AO3! The OC is a very complex character and the story of the secret love between her and Thorin in a restrictive Dwarven society relies heavily on canon. Dania, the protagonist, shows us a quiet, resilient type of feminine strength.

💕 @fizzyxcustard - see Fizzy’s Thorin fics here on Tumblr and A Rose at Twilight on AO3. This is a story about a young woman capturing Thorin’s heart against all odds. Again, far from a typical swashbuckling Mary Sue, it focuses on a rather vulnerable character who gets a chance at a new life.

💕 @middleearthpixie - this very prolific writer has more than just a few longfics under her belt. See the whole list here. Stories like In Time or Where I Belong, among others, contain well-rounded OFCs free from the repetitive traits you mentioned.

💕 @thorinstorieswoman - this blog contains a 2-part longfic where the OC is an elf from Rivendell and the issue of elf-Dwarf animosities is addressed in an interesting way without straying outrageously from canon.

💕 @frosticenow wrote A Thread of Life, a companion piece to my art (yes, I may be biased here) that includes another really interesting OFC, a seamstress, and Thorin falling in love with her. You will find great worldbuilding ideas here too and strong focus on the Dwarven culture!

💕 The Queen by Heloise Durin - the story of how the love between Thorin and Queen Heloise blossomed. It is somewhat inspired by real-life events, as the author admits, and the readers can see that a queen can be a strong female character yet her strength does not come from wielding a sword nor from sassy remarks.

💕 Other writers who are known for Thorin fics are @legolaslovely, @deepestfirefun, @dumbassunderthemountain, @fromthedeskoftheraven, @averil-of-fairlea, @xxbyimm, @i-did-not-mean-to, @shiinata-library, @scariusaquarius, @guardianofrivendell @ruthoakenshield and more (if you’re a Thorin fic writer and you’d like to be added here, please let me know!).

💕 Oh, and if you’re tired of the issues you mentioned, like “feminist OCs” and “badass girl OCs”, feel free to check out @lordoftherazzles stories. The main focus is Bagginshield and this is a ship based solely on canon characters free of those characteristics so maybe it will interest you too? Here is Razzy’s AO3 page.

And if you're searching for a classically feminine OFC whose greatest trait is being passive and ogling Thorin, see my story Springtime at the Lonely Mountain.

I hope you'll like at least some of these stories. Feel free to share your thoughts with me! I’m always eager to discuss fanfiction :)

(Well hello there, handsome king!)

Before I click “send” on this post, I’d like you to ask you something, if you don’t mind. You wrote: “They [fics] are filled with utter political correctness and Marxism.”  

I must admit, I’m a bit confused here. Would you be so kind and please explain to me how Thorin fics you encounter (because I assume you were still talking about stories containing this character here) are filled with Marxism? And if you could provide me with some examples/fic links, that would be great! I must admit I have never encountered a truly Marxist Thorin fic (or Dwarf fic) yet. I’m always on the lookout for fresh worldbuilding ideas and uncommon takes on social and economic issues in fanfiction, especially in stories where Dwarves are the main focus. Revolutionary Dwarves? Labor issues, capitalism and communism as concepts developed by the children of Aule? That would be a very interesting read!

The same goes for “political correctness”, by the way. I remember you mentioned earlier that it bothered you when people inserted modern ideas into Middle Earth fics so I’m guessing this is another example of this issue - please please please feel free to give me some juicy examples! I’d really like to hear your take on things and see how you would rewrite such stories or their elements to fit your tastes better! And apart from removing anachronisms from stories, that’s a great exercise in creative writing. By the way, forgive my curiosity, are you a fanfic writer yourself? If so, I’d love to read your stories if you’re willing to share them with me :) 

All the best,

Lathalea 💙

#thorin oakenshield #lathalea speaks #ask box #thorin #the hobbit #tolkien #fanfiction #thorin x oc #original female character #lotr #fanfic writing #character headcanons #Marxist anon

[cannibalcoyote]

Series

Unraveled(Broadchurch):

Ch.1: Introductions

Ch.2: Unhappy Ellie

Ch.3: The Family

Ch.4: Reacquainting

Ch.5: Tough Times

Ch.6: I Fucking Hate Reporters

Ch.7: Frustration

Ch.8: Dull

Ch.9 IDK WTF IS HAPPENING

Balto's Sister:

Ch.1: The Big Race

Ch.2: Steele

Ch.3: Concerned

Ch.4 DISCONTINUED

Feral Pride:

Ch.1: Before and Now

Ch.2: Pack Placements

Ch.3: The Hunter and the Hunted

Ch.4: An Encounter with Death

Ch.5: Secrets for the Future

Ch.6: DISCONTINUED

Scar's Adopted Brother(Lion King):

Ch.1: Life as Little Brother

Ch.2: Fight for Leadership

Ch.3: New Rivals

Ch.4: Eavesdropper

Ch.5: Untrustworthy

Ch.6: Foreboding

Ch.7 DISCONTINUED

The Elder Maximoff:

Ch.1: Hail Hydra

Ch.2: Captain America

Ch.3: The Meeting

Ch.4: Intimidation

Ch.5: More than a Confrontation

Ch.6: Safe House

Ch.7: Seoul

Ch.8: The Cradle

Ch.9: The Vision

Ch.10: DISCONTINUED

Woodland Princess(The Hobbit):

Ch.1: A Journey Begins

Ch.2: The Company

Ch.3: The Conversation

Ch.4: The Adventure Begins

Ch.5: Confrontation

Ch.6: Expected

Ch.7: Turn of Events

Ch.8: The Great Chase

Ch.9: Memories

Ch.10: DISCONTINUED

#female reader #female insert #male reader #x oc #x reader #balto #the avengers #age of ultron #marvel mcu #marvel #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #thranduil #gandalf #feral pride fanfic #feral pride #the lion king #lion king #scar #mufasa #simba #nala #timon and pumba #captain america #tony stark #broadchurch #alec hardy #ellie miller #joe miller

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

Flames of the Forge - Bold

Fili x Darrowdam OC Narni

Warnings: cut/drop of blood (nothing major)

Word Count: 5224

Fili is a dwarf dedicated to his craft but still longs to find his one. On his one hundredth birthday, he may just find who he’s looking for. Narni is a blacksmith new to Erebor and presents Prince Fili with a controversial gift. 

A/n: Hopefully this will be the first in a few short stories about these two. We’ll see how I go. Let me know if you want a tag list. This is mainly fluff but please feel free to comment and reblog if you enjoy!  

The dress was soft and silky as it sat on her skin, the deep purple material hemmed with gold thread and steel cuffs making her feel powerful as she moved through the halls of Erebor. Her family and mastery beads sat in her braids tightly and her hair had been woven in such a way it brushed the ground in its length despite its carefully planned plaits. She adorned her favorite ear cuffs, gold but simple with a single amethyst gem dangling from her right ear. She moved with pride and purpose as she swept into the main hall full of dwarves.

She new it was a bold move, what she was doing. Very few had ever presented the golden-haired prince with a dagger of their own making, and even less had the nerve to do so in such a public setting. He lined his body with the weapons like one would with their beads and braids. They were apart of him, the cold blades hidden around his form, and he took pride in each and every one of them. His knowledge of the forge and its steel transcended into the beauty of his weapons. The prince was known for his dagger forging, the pieces of art that his hands created more stunning than any master could dream of bringing to completion. He bent an infused a slice of his soul into every blade he created. Sharp. Strong. Dangerous.

The only thing more beautiful then gazing upon such daggers was watching him use them. He used them like they were an extension of his body. Completely in control, his movements were always flawless and swift. The way he danced through the air with his steel was mesmerizing.

He had a kind and gentle heart, but when it came to his daggers, he was specific and stringent. Anything less than perfect was a waist of time in his book, and the few blacksmiths that had presented him with a dagger had been turned away in disgust. He had even kicked one out of the room entirely for presenting him a knife with a twisted and unfinished pommel.

His heart and soul belonged to his chosen craft. He lived and breathed the hot steel of the forges, the pounding and molding of the hammer on anvil, the sizzle and bubble of the quench. They weren’t just knives to him. To him they spoke stories and showed passions. A dagger showed your deepest essence as well as protected your life. To be presented with anything less then a flawless blade was an insult to himself and his craft.

The first time Narni had seen Fili Durin was in the battle of the five armies as she fought in Dain’s army. She had caught a glimpse of golden hair admits the chaos and frozen in place as she watched the darrow slice through orc after orc, dancing effortlessly through the battle of bodies and steel. It was only for a second, but the way he moved with his weapons had moved her. She had been a blacksmith since she could walk and had dedicated to learning the way of the blade, in battle and in the forge. The weapon itself was pedestrian, but the way the prince had used it brought a new life to the old steel. It was like artwork watching him twist and turn with steel in his hand and it sent a strange feeling through her body. And then in a blink he was gone.

The second time she had spotted him was in the forges. With the growth of Erebor, she had bid her parents farewell in the Iron Hills and settled down in the lonely mountain, continuing to learn and hone her skills with the uncovered knowledge of their libraries and ancient forges now burning with dragon fire. He had been testing one of his newly finished blades, the knife slicing through the thick leather hide like butter. He held such consecration and focus in his ocean blue eyes and he tested and wrapped his blade. Pride was held in his smile and as she studied his work for afar, she couldn’t deny its beauty.

That’s what sparked her soul and guided her to make her own dagger. One that she would offer to her prince.

The other dwarves had laughed, sneered and gasped when they had found out, but the dam could not be dissuaded. She had used every skill she had learnt and mastered from the design to the polish, pouring her blood, sweat and soul into her creation, and now, on the princes one hundredth birthday, she would offer her hard work to him.  

Her heart was in her throat as she waited, fiddling with the soft layer of silk that wrapped her work. She knew it was a good blade, beautiful and deadly, but she did not know how he would react to such a gift. Would he smile, his pretty blue eyes widening in fascination? Would he nod politely and brush the gift of to one on the servers unimpressed? Would he scoff and send her away? The line she stood in took another step and it was almost her turn to face the prince.

Something solid hit her back however, and knocked her unbalanced as she thought, the gift falling from her hands and siding along the ground.

“Hey!” she protested, turning to glare at who had hit her, “take care where you step fool!”.

She cringed when she relised who was standing behind her. Vargit, another blacksmith and a bully, stationed a few forges away from her own staired back with a scowl. He was adorned in his best attire, and being the son of a lord from centuries ago, it made her own outfit look like rags. He practically glittered with the number of jewels and gems that hung from his coat.

“Sorry Birdy, I do hope nothing is broken?” he shot back quickly. Narni ignored the unflattering nickname and looked around for her gift, finding it already in the hands of Vargit’s brother, Vaster.

“Now, now, what is this Birdy?” the younger questioned with furrowed brows, shaking the box and unwrapping the silk. To slowly she lunged for the box his eyes widened at what laid inside. “Well now, that wouldn’t be a gift for the prince, would it?”

He swiftly threw the box over her head and into his brother hands to show him.

“Your joking?” Vargit chuckled holding up the knife to the light, “You’re actually going to present prince Fili with a dagger? You are a mad one. Skilled yes, that I would not deny, but mad nevertheless,”

“Mad or not,” she grunted as she jumped to take back her gift, missing when he held it far above his head, “I will do so with or without your permission. Now give it back!”

She jumped again and he laughed as she missed for a second time. Even for a darrowdam she was short against her kin, and she though it best not to punch the son of a nobledwarf in the gut, no matter how much he tempted her.

“Such temper in such a small frame,” he mocked, “yet to no avail,”

She tensed her knuckles by her sides “Perhaps I should use my anger to break your nose instead?”

“Oh I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” he grinned side eyeing the high court where his father stood in discussion with Lord Balin, the kings high adviser. She turned her head to follow his gaze and he leaned in and whispered into her ear, “I wouldn’t want to get you kick out of the party before you could present your gift,”

He thrusted the box into her hands and pushed her forwards as the announcer called her up. Flustered and rushed she stepped forwards and bowed low enough for her knees to touch the cold stone she stood upon.

When she looked up, she saw him. Prince Fili ‘lion heart’ Durin, son of Dis and heir to the throne of Erebor. He sat in his throne, to the right of the kings’, and held a small smile on his lips. Beautiful golden locks braided around his face framed his blue eyes and in his thick beard, just below his bottom lip, held a single braid and bead. A master blacksmith bead.

She swallowed harshly when she saw it and he must have noticed. He faintly raised one of his brows and tilted his head as he gazed at her softly, his grin widening when her entire face burnt red in embarrassment.

The announcer at her side cleared his throat and she jumped in her spot, pulling her eyes away from his.

“Oh, I, um.. Narni Silversands, at your service your majesty. And to you I present my gift for your one hundredth birthday,”

She held out the box, cringing at the wrinkled ribbon and uneven silk thanks to Vargit and Vaster’s rough handling, but bowing her head respectfully as the box was handed to the prince.

“I thank you for my gift Narni,” he purred in a beautiful silky voice that had her blushing once again, “though I must say I am surprised,”

“Surprised your majesty?”  

He nodded once, his bead jingling as he did so, “The only dwarves that have handed me gift with there own hands tonight have been those on the council or their children. I do not recognize you as one of those children, and you seem far to young and lovely to be on the council,”

“Oh,” she blinked pushing back the thoughts of him calling her lovely, and focusing on putting words together, “You would be correct my prince. I am not Lord’s daughter or Lady of the house. Merely a blacksmith who now calls this mountain her home,”

“A blacksmith you say?”

“Yes, your majesty, a bold one some might say,”

He tilted his head again and gave a small chuckle. With thick fingers he pulled open the bow and Narni felt herself hold her breath. The small smile on her princes’ face slowly faded as he staired into the box and she felt her heart drop in her stomach.

Mahal. He hated it.

Fili opened his mouth to say something but closed it again with a look of discomfit. He glanced at her again and she felt her eyes begin to burn with tears. She took a breath and pushed them down as best she could.

“It is… nice?” He tried cautiously, noting the anguish on her face, “An admirable effort I suppose, nothing fundamentally wrong with it. Pretty silver handle?”

Five months she had worked on that dagger! From tip to hilt she had worked tirelessly to make it perfect, to make it a part of her and a part of him and all he could say was…

“Silver?” she scrunched her nose up, “the handle is not silver,”

He looked at her questionably and snorted, “Yes, it is,” he argued holding up the box to show her.

There in the box sat a simple silver dagger.

Not her dagger.

“But how? That’s not.. I didn’t…”

“I’m sorry master Narni but I don’t know what more to say on the matter…”

“That’s not mine. I didn’t make that for you!”

Fili frowned, “You packed the wrong knife before you came? That seems hard to believe lass,”

Around her dwarves started to laugh and she took a shaky step back.

“I don’t understand I…”

Fili gave her a sympathetic look and her bottom lip trembled. Dwarves arounder her began to mutter and she could only catch words like ‘pitiful’ and ‘silly girl’.  Her palms felt sweaty and her breathing shuttered.

“Perhaps it is time for you to move on,” the announcer muttered lighting pushing her out of the way and back into the crowds. Before she could get a word out to argue the next person had stepped up began their introductions. She turned on her heal and dove back into the crowds to cover herself from the golden princes’ eyes that lingered on her sadly.

Her heart pounded in her ears and her hands shook as she tried to make it to the doors of the grate hall. She kept her head down as she shuffled wiping away her tears and sniffling miserably to herself.

She didn’t understand what had happened, she had made sure that everything was perfect. How could another dagger be placed in the box like that?

“What’s wrong Birdy? The prince not like your gift?” a voice called over her shoulder stopping her dead in her tracks. She tilted her head back and watched Vargit grin down at her when she made the realization.

“You? You did this didn’t you? You swapped the daggers”

His grin widened wickedly and he pulled out her dagger from his jacket, “Of course I swapped them. I got so sick of you beating me every step of the way. Every knife a make, you make a better one. Every sword I smith they pay you double!” His smile had slowly vanished as he had spoken, anger replacing his features, “So now you look like a disaster in front of everyone, no one will every commission your blades again. And now there’s noting standing in my way of smithing,”

“What?” she spat at him, her anger burning under her skin, “Mahal, what the stars are you talking about? Maybe make a decent blade from time to time and you wouldn’t have a problem to begin with!”

“Oh you little brat! You little Bird! Take your daggers and stay out of my way!”

And with that he threw her dagger as far as he could onto the restricted balcony above their heads. She let out a cry and took off down the corridor no longer bothering to hide the tears that streamed down her face.

***

Fili’s night had been long and numbing, and he let out a stifled sigh as he looked around the room and ignored the conversation around him. Truly that hall looked grand. The large iron chandeliers were ablaze, the food was abundant and the Durin tapestry that lined the back wall behind their thrones was complete and hung against stone. His uncle had gone above and beyond to make this night spectacular and as much as the prince wished to sit back and enjoy it, he knew it for what it really was.

Since reclaiming the mountain and taking his rightful place as prince and heir, Fili had balanced his duties with his love for his craft. He would spend almost every spare second he had in his forges, more grand and luxurious as there were here compared to what they had in the Blue Mountains, and he had quickly dedicated himself to his craft. Only, he had not taken up his craft alone like many other masters had, which meant Thorin had tried to set him up with more dams that he could count. Tonight was no different. The grand expense and over the top outfit that had been chosen for his were all an attempt for his uncle to find him a spouse. He loved his uncle dearly, but it was becoming a bit much.

In truth, Fili wasn’t against the idea of finding someone to spend the rest of his life with. Mahal, the prince has had his wedding planed since he was twelve. It was Kili that people saw as the hopeless romantic out of the two off them, but Fili was just as much emersed in the longing to find his one as his brother. It was just difficult to actually find them. Especially now that he was a prince and the crowned prince no less. Most of the time he could spot those who would bat their eyes at him in the hopes of wealth and political power rather quickly, sending them away and continuing his search. The others that had actually wanted to get to know him he simply didn’t connect with the right way to see a romantic relationship with in the future. He had to follow his head in making a decision, but he also had to follow his heart.

His mother had always spoke of the first time she had met their father, the spark that short through them when their eyes met and the connection they felt in their souls when they spoke. He had seen it in Kili when he had met Tauriel in the Elven Kings dungeons and in his uncle at Bilbo as they stood upon the Carrow. He knew of the magic of finding your one, and he had thought he almost found it.

A beautiful darrowdam dressed in purples and gold had approached his throne flushed and shy taking his breath away when her eyes flickered up to meet his. He didn’t recognize her face or recall her name but she had called herself a blacksmith. Her steel masters bead tracing alone her soft jaw had confirmed it and for a moment he felt something. Perhaps it was the that flame in her eyes that held out her soul for show, or the adorable chuckle she gave when she called herself ‘bold’.

And bold she was to present to him such a gift. A gift that he had rejected in so many others.

She held confidence in her stance but not the cockiness of others he had the displeasure of meeting. Though as he opened the box it was not what he had imagined. He had expected her soul to speak through her creation, the same flare that rolled off her effortlessly weaved into its sharp metal. Maybe he had thought to much of her, expected too much to soon. His heart fell to his stomach when he saw the plain looking dagger sat snug in the box.

He had watched her face fall and he looked between the weapon and her face and the confusion that scrunched up her face as he showed her what she had presented to him. It almost made him want to believe there had been a mix up and wait for her to find her ‘real’ gift, but before he could address her again the announcer had pushed her out of the line and ushered the next person up.

He had sulked to himself ever since and now as he sat next to the King and Lord Dain and pretended to listened to wherever they were talking about as he huffed and sighed. He quickly decided that he needed another glass of wine and lifted his crystal goblet only to be temporally blinded as a flash bounced from the lighting to his mug to him. He blinked a few times and looked around to find what had reflected catching a flash of metal fly threw the air. His first though was that they were under attack and his hand instantly when to one of his hidden knifes at his hip. When he registered that it was not coming towards them but away, he squinted through the crowd to see where it had come from and if there was to be another.

His breath caught in his throat when he spotted the dam from before with her purple dress flowing around her like a halo and her hair sweeping the floor. She was standing with one of the Lord’s sons and they were both facing towards where the object had landed. He watched from afar as pain spread across her features and she took off into a run out of the hall, leaving the other darrow to laugh and strut away.

The prince frowned at the exchange and felt his stomach churn. Had he hurt her in some way? She hadn’t limped and held onto anything in pain, through her expression made him hesitate. He had done something to distress her and it had to do with that flash of object that now laid on the retracted balcony. Well, restricted if you weren’t of the royal line.

Excusing himself in a quiet voice, Fili slipped out of the great hall and slowly wondered up to the balcony that the object sat. His feet wondered up the spiral staircase and through the corridor and finally he came upon the door. When he arrived, he slid open the stone door and looked around the small area with intrigue. Neither dwarf had held a bow so what ever it was must have been small enough and light enough to been throw to such a height.

He checked under the few chairs and table that sat in the room before another flash hit his eye. There on the edge of the balcony sat a knife teetering on the edge of falling. Quickly he snatched it up and examined his find, his eyes widening in wonder at the steel that laid in him palms.  

The daggers blade was a ladder damascus pattern and as he flipped it around in his hands, he discovered it was coated so that the metal shone a gorgeous Durin blue in direct lighting. It was a rare skill amongst blacksmiths to make the colour shine through and he had never seen it accomplished so well on a blade before. The pommel was made from some sort of bone or antler and sealed with a resin so it would not crack, darkening to a gold colour at the hilt that displayed the head of a lion. The prince moved closer to the light had gasped at the detailing of the sculpture. The lion’s mouth held a snarl and a braid adorned each side of its mane to match his own. He traced his fingers over the smooth blade finding no rivets or delamination in the steel and a sharp sting struck his fingertip as a bead or red dripped onto steel. It was as sharp as ice and now christened with his blood.  

It must have taken its creator months to perfect and if filled him with exhilaration and a tad of jealousy at its skillful crafting.

Was this what the dam had intended to gift him? No wonder she had been so distressed when he showed her the other dagger that laid in the box he was given. But how did it end up here?

He had to find her, to ask if she truly was the creature of such beauty. But how would he do that? He had her name but knew nothing else about her.

Frustrated and newly inspired, he turned away from his own party and began to wonder through the halls of the great mountain in contemplation. He needed to find her. To ask her. To explain. Would she be understanding to his rejection or angry with him? Would she be kind or hash as he sort her out. Could she teach him how she created a blade with such vibrant colour? Perhaps he could craft her a dagger of his own making as an apology?

Locked so deep in his thoughts he wondered down stairways and through archways of stone until he came across the forges. So caught up in his mind of planning and designing his legs had carried him to his work bench. A smile broke out on his face and he made for his desk knowing he had so designing paper left over from his last build. He paused at his desk however and frowned as the sound of a hammer sounded and echoed through the darkness.

The royal forges were on the second level of the smithery, separated for safety and comfort for those who would normally be swarmed by their subjects, but was open so they could look out and over the other blacksmiths on the first level. Looking over the railing of his level a single forge was lit and burning, a dwarf pounding down of the glowing metal bar before them. A flash of purple material on their person caught his eye.

Shocked and hopeful Fili practically raced down the stairs and over to their forge slowing only when he arrived to watch them in awe. It was indeed Narni, her long hair wrapped up messily into a bun and her dress gaining burns and smudges of charcoal. He also noted sadly, the dried lines of tears that ran down her face and the newly puffed burns on her hands from not paying complete attention.

Loose wisps of hair stuck to her forehead as sweat dripped down her face and neck. He could see her muscle through her dress as she reeled back her arm and brought it down with a crack to the metal.

Realizing he was staring he took a timid step forwards and cleared his throat. She spun around quick as lightning and held out her red glowing steel under his chin in a defensive stance.

It took her a moment to catch her breath, but she eventually lowered the steel and tilled her head in question.

“My prince Fili? What in Mahal are you doing down here?”

The prince remained speechless and wide eyed as he gazed at her, his turn to blush and stammer. So soft and gentle she had looked kneeled before him, but here in her domain, she looked powerful and dangerous. Either way Fili thought she was beautiful.

Pulling his eyes away he remembered why he was here and held out the dagger from the balcony.

Narni’s eyes watered a touch and she let out a soft gasp, “How did you get this?”

“It is yours is it not? The dagger you were meant to gift to me?”

“Yes,” she nodded, leaving her metal and hammer on her workshop bench and taking a few steps towards him, “This is the dagger I crafted but it should be abandoned on a balcony not here in your hands,”

“It is exquisite,” he whispered.

Her face lit up at his words.

“Truly? You like it? You’re not just saying that because you feel bad?”

“Not at all! My words are sincere when I say this is one of the most beautiful blades I have ever had the pleasure of wielding,”

He offered her a smile and she sheepishly returned it. She held out her hands.

“May I?”

He nodded and placed the dagger in her hands only for her to kneel before him. The light from the forges’ flames made her eyes shine and dance as she looked up at him with determination.

“My prince Fili,” she said with a bow of her head, “on your one hundredth birthday I present you with a gift made of my own hands in the hope that it may serve you well inside and outside of the battle field. To you, I give a dagger forged in the mountain you will someday rule, by a subject that holds nothing but loyalty and adoration for your bravery and dedication to his people and his craft,”

He felt touched by her words and couldn’t help his eyes from watering as she declared them, “Such devotion and kind words you hold for me my dear Narni. I will do well to honor them always,”

“Thankyou for giving me the chance to say them. I don’t know how you came across my dagger nor how you found me all the way down here while the great hall is filled with merry and song, but I will always be grateful,”

A strangely comfortable silence engulfed them as they watched each other through the dark. Fili removed his only visible dagger and tucked it inside his jacket replacing it with Narni’s gifted dagger, the lion facing out like it would defend him when needed.

Testing the waters, the golden prince took a step closer to her workbench and let his eyes wonder. Papers covered in ruff sketches and little notes to herself lined the back wall of her desk and handmade tools for carving and molding delicate details were tucked into a jar to the right.

“Did you design all of these?” he asked.

“Yes, most are decorative pieces rather than practical, but a few are the favorite knifes I have already completed,”

“And this?” he gestured to the now cooling metal she had been working on, “what will this become?”

She blushed scarlet, “Honestly, with the way I was pounding it, most likely it will end in the scraps. It was more so something to take my frustrations out on,”

He chuckled knowing the feeling. He had spent many a night merely heating metal to bash at it after a particularly stressful day in council meetings or other royal business.

“A shame, I would have loved to see you create something now I know of your talent with the steel. perhaps another day I will have the chance to see it?”

She seemed taken back by his request but nodded and grinned again, “Only if I may see you at work also?”

“You truly are a bold one, aren’t you?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Fili thought for a moment and his hand came to rest on the hilt of his dagger, the feel of his lion new to his fingers. New and thrilling.

“No, I think it is a good thing. Actually, I think I may need to follow in boldness,” he confessed.

“Oh, and why is that my prince?”

“I would like to get to know you better miss Narni Silversands, and I must be bold enough to ask. Would you like to come back to the party with me?”

She smiled brightly at his question but faltered when she looked down at herself, “I would love to prince Fili, but I’m afraid I may have ruined my only dress. I would not wish to make you or your halls so filthy,”

He though for a moment before nodding, “Then perhaps I may get to know you here. Coal smudges and all?”

“I do have some designs I could show you?” she mused, scratching her chin and leaving a black smudge along her jaw.

Fili chuckled at the action, “I would love to see them,” he grinned bringing his hand up to her face and wiping the stain from her skin. It was a bold move put it paid off when she blushed brightly, making the same face she had in the great hall.

He took a step back, reignited the fire so they had light to see and sat down next to the dam. She pulled out a few sketches, some black sheets and some chalk and pencils and laid them down before them. She scooched herself closer to him and he gave her a cheeky smile.

“What? It’s cold,” she defended.

“Well that just won’t do, will it?”

With one last bold move for the night, he peeled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

They settled comfortably against each other and didn’t move until the sun come up the next morning, talking and laughing and designing knives or beauty. Perhaps it wasn’t the sparks his mother felt upon meeting his father, or the bright glowing light his brother described, but being next to her? It felt… nice.

It felt… right.

Could it be?

His one?

He supposed he would have to be bold one more time and find out.    

#fili #fili durin #the hobbit fili #fili fanfiction #fili x reader #fili x oc #kili #kili durin #thorin oakenshield #king under the mountain #crowned prince #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fandom #fili fandom #fili friday #female reader #dwarves #tolkien dwarves #au #fluff #first meetings #my writing #Narni Silversands

[somedaylazysomeday]

Fic Rec Friday

This week's recommendation is one of my favorites! I've probably read @kindle-the-stars's story Stirring the Leaves a dozen times. It is a Hobbit fic, centering on a Thorin/fem!OC pairing.

The OC in question, Elizabeth Darrow, is fully fleshed out with her own backstory and motivations. She is from Earth, but the writer does this well-known trope better than any fic I've ever read!

Stirring the Leaves is a well-written, thoughtful, and realistic exploration of what a single, unassuming person can do to change a situation... an idea I find to be extremely Tolkien aligned.

This is different from most of my recs because this is a slow burn fic with no real smut or explicit content. It's almost exclusively fluff and enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, but I learned a lot about how to pace a relationship through reading it. It's also a fic you can really sink your teeth into: over 350,000 words long!

The literal only complaint I have about this story is that I can't find it on AO3. Since @kindle-the-stars has a (seemingly inactive) tumblr account, it may be on here, but I typically find it on ffn.net - one of the only things I read there anymore, but I'll do what I have to so I can read this fic!

I highly, highly recommend Stirring the Leaves if you're looking for something sweet and funny that will absorb you for the next few days!

#fic rec friday #ink's fic recs #fics #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #female oc #middle earth #thorin oakenshield x fem!oc #top quality writing

[fromtheboundlesssea]

Family of Choice Chapter 28

Thorin’s Dream

#my writing #the hobbit fic #the hobbit oc #the hobbit #briar baggins #female bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins #fili #kili #thorin oakenshield x fem!bilbo #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin oakenshield #family of choice

[fili-urzudel]

Moving Forward

Guys the musical I was in opened and closed this weekend!! (I was in a musical that's why I've been so busy lol)

I'm going to have marginally more time in the coming weeks, so

Requests and the Fifty-Follower Celebration are still open! But for the sake! Of Content! Have a list of some of the fics I have in the works and vote on which one sounds most interesting to you. Keep in mind that longer works will take, well, longer.

As I move into adult life, I don't know how much time I can really dedicate to this blog, but it's always worth trying.

Scion - Thorin Oakenshield x OC. The yet unnamed female OC is the last able-bodied adult in a family that has been sworn to the Durins for hundreds of years to protect their line. After fighting to be included in the quest, she eventually discovers that her devotion to Thorin likely goes beyond mere duty. More than likely a multi-chapter fic.

Saturday Sun - Fili Durin x OC/Reader. At the request of Thorin, Fili goes to a Gondorian town near the sea to get away from the pressures of life as royalty under the mountain. He apprentices under and eventually ends up teaching the local blacksmith, staying at an inn. Three weeks before he must return to Erebor, he strikes up an electric friendship with a new guest. 1-2 Parts.

Empress - Fili Durin OR Kili Durin x OC/Reader. One of the Durin brothers spends so much time doubting himself that he misses his chance with the love of his life. He realizes his mistake moments before entering an arranged marriage. Probably just 1 part.

To Be Broken - Thorin Oakenshield OR Fili Durin x OC/Reader. Before leaving for the quest, he swears to his partner/wife to return and to make a better life in Erebor with them. She admonishes him to not make promises he can't keep. Probably 1 part with possibly a post-BotFA follow-up.

Grown-up - Romantic or platonic Bilbo Baggins x Reader. At the beginning of the Unexpected Journey, the reader finds it hard to remember that Bilbo is not, in fact, a child. Either 1 part or a series of shorter parts.

#lotr #lotr fandom #lotr fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #bilbo x reader

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

The Wormhole, Part 1

Long time no see, Tumblr friends!  To put it simply, college and real life have been my focus for these past few months and now that things are (hopefully) slowing down a bit for the summer, I hope to maybe scroll this hellsite more often than once a month.  

Writer’s block has also been defeated (for the moment) and I’ve got a fun new story in the works.  This one here is just one I’ve been sitting on for awhile.  Enjoy!  

Character Relationships:  Thorin Oakenshield x Modern!Female OC

Content Warning(s):  Mentions of manipulative behavior from an ex-boyfriend and his appearance.

Summary:  Reverse of the “Girl falls into Middle Earth” trope.  Thorin finds himself mysteriously transported to the modern world after surviving BOTFA and winds up in the care of a New York Academy of Arts teacher, Estel Cavanah.  She has no idea why this man is so incompetent with the day’s technology.  

“…And as you can see, the honey shade matches up pretty well with Nashville blue.  The darker tones cool the orange.”  I paused to glance at the clock on the other side of the room.  The neon red numbers signaled the looming end of my class period.

Or, by the way my students were shuffling in their seats and surreptitiously packing away pen and paper, perhaps it was more of a couldn’t-come-soon-enough.  

“Seeing as we are almost out of time, I’ll let you all go. See you on Friday!”  I smiled as the room immediately erupted into a flurry of movement.  The students, all eager to head home to relax at the end of a long day, feverishly packed up the last of their things and filed out of the room.  It was almost insulting how quickly they wanted to leave my class.  But I could understand their hurry; I had been a student once, and no matter how much I loved art, sometimes I couldn’t wait to get out of the classroom.

I turned to my own desk to pack up my stuff for the day, only to pause when a knock broke the silence.  Annoyance sprung to life at the thought of having to spend more time here when I could be at home.

Slowly, I turned around, wondering what student had dropped by.  But it wasn’t a student.  The person wasn’t even a resident of the state!

“Zach, what are you doing here?!”  I asked incredulously, unable to believe that the man was even standing in my doorway.  “You live in North Carolina!”  

“I came here to talk with you,” he said.  I shot him a look.  

“Zach, there is a reason phones were invented. Besides, what is so important that you come up to New York without calling me?”  I asked, propping my hands on my hips.  Then another thought occurred to me.  A much darker and more disturbing thought.  “How did you even know where I was?  We haven’t talked since high school!”

Zach just shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walked further into my classroom.  “That’s not really important, Estel—”  

“Oh, I really think it is…”

“…I just wanted to see if you wanted to get back together.  I think we made a mistake when we broke up.”  Zach kept walking, and I began to feel the cold chills of anxiety trickle down my spine.  I stepped behind my desk, putting it between me and him.

I really didn’t think he would do anything, but at the same time, it felt like a very real possibility.

“Zach, we dated in high school.  We’re adults now.  If it didn’t work out then, I don’t think it will work out now.  Now, get out of here before I call security.”  I made a show of picking up my cell phone and unlocking it.  

He stopped walking, finally taking his hands out of his pockets to raise them in the air.  “Woah, slow down girl.  Let’s just talk, okay?  Just because we didn’t work out in high school doesn’t mean we won’t work out now.”

“I really don’t think it does…  And don’t tell me what to do, Zach.  You’re the one who’s shown up out of the blue after stalking me!” My finger hovered over the keypad on my phone, waiting to dial the campus police.  

“I’m not stalking you!”  The words burst out of Zach like an avalanche.  Immediately, his face became apologetic, and he took another step towards me.  “I’m sorry, that was rude of me, Estel…”

Instantly, I was brought back to my days as a high schooler trying to figure out both my life and manage a boyfriend at the same time. Everything pointed towards us becoming high school sweethearts.  Then one day the daydream shattered.  I was introduced to just who my boyfriend really was, and he wasn’t the man I had thought he was.  

Early on in our relationship, he’d stood behind me in my goals and dreams.  When I said that I wanted to be a teacher, he told me to follow my heart.  But when the topic came up again a few months later, he wasn’t as supportive.  

To put a long story short, he wanted to get married young and start a family.  My going away to college in a different state would put a damper on his goals.  That made me the selfish one in the relationship.

And he didn’t want that.  He did his best to hold on to our relationship and convince me to stay with him, but in the end I had to be true to myself and follow the path my heart was leading me on.  

I wasn’t sad when it ended; I felt freer than I had felt in what seemed like forever.  And the saying about hindsight being 20/20 was a constant presence in my mind as I went over our relationship.  I noticed manipulative behaviors that I hadn’t picked up on before. I realized how lucky I was to get out of it early.  To be true enough to myself not to give up my dreams for a guy.

Gathering my courage, I slipped my laptop into my bag. “No, I don’t want to hear anything from you.  We aren’t ever getting back together, Zach.  I don’t even know why you would think that.  Now, I have to go.”  Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder.  Holding my phone—keypad at the ready—I marched past Zach.

I left him behind just like I had all those years ago.  No glances over my shoulder for one last glimpse.  I just wanted to go home where I felt safe.  

The walk to my car had never felt longer, even in the broad daylight.  Clicking the button on my fob to unlock it, I pulled open the door and threw my bag in before climbing into the driver seat.  As I sat and collected my bearings, a niggling thought rose in my brain.

If Zach knew where I was teaching, chances were he knew exactly where I lived.  Right down to the apartment number.  

All of a sudden, home no longer felt as comforting. It felt dangerous to go back to, despite how much I wanted to.  And I had no choice.

Scanning the parking lot, I pulled out of my space.

~~~

I showed up early at the stable I worked at part-time, not feeling safe at my apartment.  Coincidentally, it was also owned by my brother who was too busy managing the family estates down in Havana to spend much time managing it.  That job fell to me as his little sister.  

The black sheep of the family.

I could only hope that Zach didn’t know about it. Maybe I could buy a sleeping bag and camp out in one of the empty stalls for the night…  Or text Ash and see if I could crash at her apartment for the night. She wouldn’t refuse me.

At least, not if her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Mike, wasn’t around.  Then I really didn’t want to be in the same flat.

Pulling out my phone, I unlocked it and began typing out the message to her when the bugling of a stallion ripped through the air. I frowned, the noise out of place at the normally serene stable.  

Then I heard the screaming.  

Shoving my phone in my pocket and throwing open the door, I bolted out of my car and towards the one pasture that contained a stallion.  The most ill-tempered beast I’d ever had the displeasure of handling.  Although, given that I didn’t get involved too much with horses, wasn’t really saying much.

Quickly catching up to a teen who was also hurrying towards the commotion, I grabbed their arm to stop them.  “Grab a lead rope!”  I gasped before taking off again.  I could only wonder which cocky new teenage boy had decided that he would be the one guy Ferrari—the stallion—liked.  

And exactly how much legal trouble I was about to get into.

Turning the corner to the gate of the paddock, I stopped and did a double take.  The man currently dangling from the mouth of the bay stud definitely was not one of the kids employed here.  Nor did he look like the sort that frequented prestigious stables like this one.  He looked more like a well-kept hobo than anything.

“GET THIS BLOODY HORSE OFF ME!”  The man bellowed, catching sight of me standing like an idiot on the outside of the paddock.  

I snapped out of the daze I’d gone into and looked around wildly for the stable hand I’d stopped earlier.  “Where’s a lead rope!?”

I was answered only by a stream of curses from the man as Ferrari shook him like a ragdoll.  Then pounding footsteps heralded the arrival of the kid with a lead rope.  

Snatching it out of his hand, I jumped the fence and sprinted towards the grappling pair.  “Ferrari!”  I screamed, trying to get his attention on me and away from the unknown man.  “Ferrari!”  

But the stallion paid no attention to me and continued to grind his teeth into the shoulder of the man he had cornered.  

As Ferrari tightened his grip, the man swung at him, calling him a variety of colourful names as he tried to pull away from the stallion.  

I darted in, clipping the lead rope onto Ferrari’s halter.  Then I swatted his rump with the end of the rope to get his attention.  Instantly, Ferrari dropped the man and went after me. Jumping out of the way of his teeth, I waved my hands at the man now crumpled on the ground.

“Get out of the pasture!  Go!”  I yelled at him, dodging Ferrari again.  “He hates men!”  

The man didn’t move, and I began to worry about what it would mean if he was dead.  Probably more legal troubles than if he was injured, that was for sure.  Beckett was going to be absolutely thrilled.  

“Estel, I’ll take him!”  A feminine voice called, and I shot a quick glance over my shoulder towards the stable.  Chelsea—one of the most experienced horsewomen employed here—was jogging towards me.  

As she approached, Ferrari began to calm down.  Chelsea had a way with him that none of the other female employees had.  His ears were stilled pinned tightly back and he danced in place, but he wasn’t trying to bite me anymore.

“Hey, Ferrari…”  She cooed, taking the lead rope from me, and stroking his nose.  Ferrari snorted suspiciously.  “Come here, boy.  Let’s get you inside, huh?”  She pulled gently on the rope and led Ferrari away.

That left me with the unfortunate man who had found himself in Ferrari’s pasture.  As I ran over to him, he suddenly pushed himself up off the ground, clutching his shoulder and grimacing in pain.

“Sir, are you alright?”  I asked, dropping onto my knees beside him.  From a distance, he’d looked like one of the bums that littered the streets of New York, but up close was a different story.

He obviously had some concept of hygiene—he certainly smelled nice—and his beard was neatly trimmed.  And as he raised his head to look at me, he revealed startling blue eyes that pierced me with a distrusting gaze.  

“I’m fine.”  He spat in a voice that carried the thickness of an unfamiliar accent.  “Where am I?”

“Blacktop Stables in New York.  Now, I think I should take a look at your shoulder. Ferrari is a man-hater, and it looked like he had you good.”  I reached out to gently pull his hand away from his shoulder.

He let out a short laugh.  “Horses have never liked me.  You have healer training then?”  He asked, resisting my attempts to pull his hand away so I could look at Ferrari’s handiwork.

“If by healer training, you mean medical training, then yes, I know a little.”  He dropped his hand, revealing a slobber-soaked fur vest.  “Umm…  I think I’ll need you to remove your shirt…”  

He grunted, unbuckling the belt that held the vest closed before shrugging it off.  A dark blue, velvet looking coat followed directly after.  The movement of his arm caused him to grimace and let out a hiss of pain.  Beneath it was a metallic sort of shirt that looked like some sort of armor.  He pulled the armor shirt over his head, leaving him in only a blue shirt that reached almost to his knees.  

“Blast…”  He hissed through clenched teeth.  Gingerly, he lowered his injured arm back to his side.

By this point, I felt like I was watching the clothing version of a clown car.  I couldn’t help but wonder if he had another two shirts underneath this one.  

Unbuttoning what I guessed was called a ‘tunic’, his upper body was finally revealed.  And it made the artist in me want to weep tears of joy.

If ever there was a perfect body, he had to have it. Thick, muscled arms hung from broad shoulders.  There wasn’t a speck of fat on his torso to hide the chiseled abs this man possessed. And he was able to make it look like the most natural thing in the world, unlike some of those shirtless male models I had tried to use as inspiration in the past.  

“You said you have healer training?”  

The distinctly masculine voice broke me out of my…reverie.  Quickly, I focused my gaze on his face.  Away from the abs that I was itching to sketch.  

“Uh, yeah.  Let me take a look here…”  I peered at the bite mark on his shoulder.  Ferrari had left him deep indents of his teeth, but the skin hadn’t been broken.  Already I could see the purple bruising characteristic with horse bites forming in a wide circle around the bite marks.  His excessive layers of clothes had saved him from a much worse injury.

Not that he wouldn’t go through hell in the coming weeks.  Bites of this severity literally made you unable to move the arm without excruciating pain for weeks.  

“Will I live?”  The question was quiet, and I glanced up to see a whisper of a smile on his face.  Oddly, I got the sense that this wasn’t an unfamiliar question for him to ask.  

“I can almost guarantee you will,” I shot him a small smile.  “Just put some ice on it, take some ibuprofen, and try not to use that arm much for a few weeks.”

He frowned.  “Ibuprofen?  What is that?”

The fact that he was unaware of one of the most basic over-the-counter drugs was baffling.  Everybody knew what ibuprofen was!  

“It’s a medicine you can take if the bite hurts too much.  And from what I’ve heard, a bite like yours hurts like hell.”  I explained, leaning back on my heels.  “If you aren’t able to get any, I could give you some.”  

“No, I’ve had worse than a horse bite.”  He dismissed my offering.  “Now, you said we were in someplace called New York?  Is that on the Anduin?”

I stared at him.  “The Anduin?  I’ve never heard of that.  New York is a state in the United States.  East coast?”  

The look I got back told me he’d never heard of any of it.

This whole thing was weird.  First he showed up out of the blue in Ferrari’s pasture.  The same pasture that had seven-foot fencing supplemented with electric wire and was surrounded by private ground.  And somebody would have stopped him inside the stable.  

Second, there was the whole deal with his clothing.  It looked nothing like anything made today. That and he wore armor.  To be quite frank, it didn’t even look like it was from this world.

Third, he had never heard of the US before, and he was living in it.  

Or maybe I was turning into one of those off-the-grid hippies who believed in UFOs.  There had to be a logical explanation for all this.  It wasn’t like he actually had come from a different world.  That was preposterous.

He probably just hit his head or something when Ferrari was slinging him around.  I reasoned with myself.  He’s probably just a little confused right now.

Standing up, I motioned for the man to join me. “Follow me and I can get you a bandage for your shoulder…”  I paused, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Thorin,” the man supplied with a nod of his head.  “At your service.”

“Estel, uh, at yours.”  I fumbled, hoping I hadn’t just entered into some deal with the man.  Turning around, I took one look at the stables and felt my heart stop beating in my chest.

Zach was standing at the gate of the paddock.

“Oh, no….”  I whispered, frozen in place.  I’d felt so sure that he’d had no idea that I worked here.  Beckett certainly didn’t advertise by using me.  “He followed me…”  

“Is something wrong?”  Thorin asked from behind me.  I looked back over my shoulder at him, taking in his broad frame. He had his clothes bundled up in his arms, hiding his torso from the world.  Dark brown hair sprawled across his shoulders, untamed by any sort of hair tie.

“Um,” I looked back over at Zach.  He was staring at Thorin; a small frown on his face as he took him in.  Automatically, I began formulating my “it’s not what you think” speech in my head.  I knew what it looked like.  A man and a woman out in a field, alone.

Except…That was exactly what would get him off my back. If I was a taken woman, he couldn’t come after me.  

“Thorin, I know this is asking a lot, given that we don’t know each other, but I really need you to pretend you’re my boyfriend. He,” I nodded over in Zach’s direction, “is my ex from a long time ago and he’s been stalking me, trying to get back together.  I just need you to pretend for like a day and then we can part ways.”  I pleaded, looking up into light blue eyes.  

Thorin stared back at me, then glanced up to look at Zach.  “You don’t want his attentions?”  He asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I just want him to leave me alone,” I sighed. The defeat I felt over my helplessness must have carried into my voice, because the iciness began to fade from his eyes.  

“You’ve told him this?”  His voice took on a gentler tone.

“I made it very clear, and he obviously didn’t listen.”

“Then I will pretend to be your…boyfriend.”  He agreed, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  Instantly, his tough, rough-hewn aura faded to be replaced with a sense of security. “He will not lay a finger on you, Miss Estel.”

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#the wormhole #au #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin oakenshield #thorin #romance #slow burn #fluff #new york #estel #reverse girl falls into middle earth #the hobbit #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction #thorin fanfiction #thorin fanfic #modern thorin fanfiction #modern thorin fanfic

[sergeant-spoons]

Stubborn, Shaken, Sorry

Inspired by this post by @anotherbleedinghart​​.

Pairing: Thorin x Female OC

Word count: 3181

Tone: Antagonistic allies to lovers, vaguely canon divergent, they’re both way too stubborn for their own good; bickering, worrying, and a wee bit of flirting

Summary: She’s finally had enough of his criticisms towards every little thing she does and storms off into the night. Hours pass and the Company begins to get antsy, none more so than the one who caused her departure.

Taglist: @amessywritersmind​ @brokennerdalert​​ @guardianofrivendell​​

The night was warm, though cooler than it had been these last few weeks. Summer was coming to an end. The Wilds were upon the Company of Thorin Oakenshield- or rather, they were upon the Wilds. Orcs and wargs growled and howled at the moonlight, their calls on the edges of hearing but no less spine-chilling. Each member of the Company, warrior or otherwise, knew to be warier with each passing day. The further they went into these lands, the lesser safety they maintained. Amaranth Burrowes was a stranger to these parts, but even a hobbit such as herself knew where to step, how to watch the sun, when to keep an eye out for brigands and when to focus on the inner workings of her party. Tonight was one of the latter occasions; she had been enlisted to help with the campsite set-up. Unfortunately, luck seemed to have left her, and her companions began to wonder amongst themselves.

"Should we help her?"

"She's been at it for fifteen minutes."

"Give her time." Balin eyed the newest member of their company, struggling to light a stack of sticks into a suitable fire. "She knows what she's doing better than you think."

Thorin's patience, however, came nowhere near the depth of his white-bearded friend's.

"Turn them faster."

Amaranth looked up from the two twigs she was spinning together, blowing a streak of hair out of her eyes. Distracted, she lost her grip and one of the twigs faltered. With a sharp grumble, she resituated it and began anew.

"No, no- Durin's beard, do you not know how to light a fire?"

"I do," she replied, temper rising under his scrutiny. "It isn't my fault the rains came last night."

Thorin's frurstration flared. "These sticks are dry. You have no excuse."

"Oh, don't I? I'm sorry I haven't got a tinderbox. Not as if you would think to offer me the use of yours."

She turned a sharp gaze upon the eavesdroppers, and they looked aside, embarrassed.

"If you're so splendid at the task, why don't you do it yourself, your majesty?"

Even Balin looked aside, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. Ever since the first breadths of their journey, Thorin and Amaranth had been at odds. To many of the Company, it seemed their leader was about to leave the hobbitess behind any day now, let her wander her way back to the Shire. Balin knew better. Thorin would not do such a thing, no matter how frustrated or slighted he felt. He would not turn her away until they reached a safer place.

Amaranth, however, did not comprehend this, and when she heard Thorin's stiff reply, she took it quite to heart.

"Leave it."

She rose slowly, the twigs in her hands quietly tapping against the soil as they fell from her fingers. Thorin all but pushed her aside, and she stepped back, balling her hands into fists.

"Agh!" Amaranth shook her head and threw her hands up, conjuring the brief imagination of a fiercely disgruntled scarecrow. "Will nothing I do ever be good enough for you?"

Thorin's mouth set into a firmer line. He did not look back at her, slighting her even further when he did not dignify her aggravation with a response. Frustrated beyond rationale, Amaranth snatched up her pack and marched off onto the planes, ignoring the uncertain calls of her companions to not stray too far. The sunset allowed those in the Company most fond of her to keep an eye on her departure for a time, but soon, she became part of the shadows on the horizon and disappeared. Nearly two hours had passed since Amaranth's departure when the Company gathered for supper. The hobbitess was nowhere to be seen. Bofur came to Balin a few minutes after dusk settled in the sky, two bowls of his brother's stew in his hands, a serving for them each. Balin was not hungry; neither was Bofur.

"Where do you think she's gone?"

Balin's face was set in grimness "I fear she knows the answer to that less than we do."

Bilbo came scurrying up behind them, newly returned after joining Gandalf on one of the wizard's long wanderings. "Where's Ama?" He looked pale in the cheeks and red in the neck. "I heard the commotion- what did Thorin say this time?"

Balin sighed. "It's what he didn't say, laddie, that drove her off."

"Oh, confusticate and bebother the stubbornness of dwarves!"

Bofur and Balin peered at him askance.

"Of that dwarf," Bilbo corrected. "Of Thorin. He's had weeks to say the right thing and he's kept it all to himself."

"Whatever do ye mean, Master Baggins?" Bofur asked, taking out his pipe to puff on.

"I mean to say Thorin's been a stubborn fool." The hobbit huffed. "Not that Ama has been any better."

"True enough." Balin tapped his boots against the hazelnut soil, one, then the other. "I suspect there is more to this. Something you've seen, Bilbo, that the rest of us have missed- even myself, with my keen eyes."

"There is," Bilbo agreed, tugging his trousers higher up on his waist. "There certainly is, and it was almost funny at first, but now I think it's going to get one of them killed."

Bofur had all but forgotten his pipe where he clutched it loosely upon his lap. "Well, what is it? Tell us!"

"The moment she opened that door for him- the door to my Bag End, that door -he's wanted everything and yet nothing to do with her."

"Everything?"

"Nothing?"

"He's in love!" Bilbo covered his mouth with one hand, quickly glancing over his shoulder, but Thorin, staring intently into the fire, had not heard. "He's in love," the hobbit insisted, quieter, "but he won't admit it to a soul. Least of all Ama."

Balin's expression of shock cracked and melted, and he patted Bilbo on the knee.

"I believe you've got it right, laddie. I see it, now."

"And he balks at every little mistake because he thinks anything at all could get her killed, and as much as he would hate to admit it, he wouldn't be able to stomach that." Bilbo fretted with the buttons on his sleeve cuffs. "I don't think I could, either."

"And now she's gone off in the wilderness!" Bofur hopped up off his stump. "Good heavens! She's all but lost!"

"Not lost," came a tired voice from the boulder several yards ahead, "only gone a roundabout way."

"Amaranth!"

Balin brought his cloak off his shoulders as he followed Bofur and Bilbo to their restored companion. He tucked it around her shoulders as she accepted their happy returns, taking quick notice of the way she carried herself in a way influenced by more than weariness.

"Don't make a fuss," she insisted. "We've got to get going, and we'd better do it before it's too late!"

"What? But you've only just gotten back!"

"We," she repeated, tugging at his arm, "not I! All of us- quickly now!"

"Amaranth-"

Thorin had come. Perhaps it was her name, her voice, her silhouette- whatever it was, something had shown him her return, and he had not wasted a single second to affirm it.

"Thorin! Alert the Company- we have to go."

"For what reason?"

She scrambled into the camp, Thorin not far behind. 

"Orcs, not far behind! A dozen, maybe more, half upon these great beasts-" 

"Wargs?" Bofur asked, his eyes widening.

"Yes, the wargs! See- we've got to go!"

"Are you sure what you saw?"

She turned to face the dwarven king only when he grabbed her by the arm. His touch was gentle; if he had been any rougher, she might have snapped at him, recalling the wounds of their earlier argument.

"Yes," she said, "and I'm as steady in that sureness as that boulder rests on the moor." She pointed over her shoulder as she spoke, and Thorin gave a firm, decisive nod.

"On your feet!" he called, rousing the Company. "Hurry! Orcs not far off- ready your weapons first, gather your things second."

They kicked out the fire, armed themselves, scrambled to gather their things, and readied for a night on the move. Gandalf came flying into the midst of them not a minute later, sounding the alarm only to find it had already been given. He was swept up in the fray, and not even when counting the heads of his charges did he notice the way Amaranth kept stumbling to the left, reaching for her side more often than not.

"Are you alright, lassie?"

Amaranth opened her mouth to reply to Balin but never got the words out. She was on her knees an instant later, clutching her side just above her hip, mumbling several dwarvish curses she'd learned from their younger companions in the past few weeks. Oin appeared, sensing harm had been dealt, and as Balin helped Amaranth back to her feet, Thorin nearly tripped over her. She apologized, her words strangled as she held back a gasp, and it was so unlike the majority of their interactions it gave the king pause.

"Amaranth?"

"You have to go," she pressed, letting go of Balin's arm only to grab back onto him a moment later. "Go on, go!"

"We have to go," Thorin corrected. "I'm not leaving you behind."

She looked so surprised Thorin nearly cursed himself aloud.

"Climb on my back."

Amaranth looked as though he'd just suggested she stab him through the foot.

"What?"

It was hardly a majestic picture, the dwarf king sprinting across the plains with a hobbit on his back, but there they were, running to fight another day. The orcs would have the advantage in the night; their wargs could smell at great distances. If only the Company could confuse them, they might stand a chance of eluding their pursuers. As Gandalf led them on a twisting and turning path through the boulder-strewn moors, through a solitary, outstanding grove, and down into a narrow, green valley, Amaranth began to hope they might escape, after all. The wizard had them stop after a time, and as the dwarves and hobbits heaved to catch their breaths, he cast some sort of spell, mumbling in a language none of the Company understood. He stamped his staff on the earth and turned to them with his beard all fluffy from the long run. Midnight had come to pass, and yet they could see his face as clearly as if it were lit by daylight.

"Well!" he exclaimed. "That should be enough for tonight. Make your camp, lay out your bedrolls- this is the best we shall get. Fret no more until the morning."

Amaranth expected Thorin to let her fall from his back, to maybe dump her upon the ground, but he was careful as he let her down. When she stumbled, he did not reprimand her for falling into him. Her strength was steadily failing, but she managed to keep up the appearance of hardy resilience for several long minutes. Thorin let her be, seeing to the rest of the Company, and Amaranth limped about, trying to help pitch the second camp of the evening. She was breathing and standing, and that seemed enough to her until she nearly keeled over onto Kili when she breathed in the thick smoke from Bofur's pipe and it made her dizzy. Oin sat her down by the edge of the camp, turning her back to one of the steeper slopes of the valley. She used her pack as a seat. She hesitated when Oin asked her to hold her tunic higher upon her torso so he could examine her wound, but relented, knowing that for all her stubbornness, she couldn't go on bleeding like this without suffering worse consequences.

"What a gash," he marveled, "and what's this?"

She grimaced at the blood-soaked strip as he tenderly removed it from the deep, jagged cut.

"Didn't want to leave a trail," she said. "The wargs... if they're anything like wolves, they can smell blood."

"A wise thought."

"Thank you," Amaranth replied automatically, and only once she looked up did she comprehend it was Thorin appraising her. Uncomfortable and unsure, she fell silent. He did not speak again, either. Oin hummed under his breath as he tended to her wound, applying the healing salve he carried in half a dozen jars all clinking about in his pack. Amaranth didn't know what to do, say, feel. Should she thank Thorin? Apologize? Pretend nothing had ever happened, that the past three hours were naught by a feverish dream?

Just as she was beginning to think she should tell him she'd thought herself an idiot the moment she set foot outside their earlier campsite, he spoke.

"You knew they were coming because you found one. A scout?"

"More like it found me," she admitted, "and before you say it: I know, I should have paid better attention, should have kept my sword out, should have-"

She forgot how to speak when Thorin knelt before her, just beside Oin, and took one of her hands between his own.

"You're alive," he said, "that is plenty good enough."

Amaranth hesitantly squinted at him.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Knocked some sense into him, I imagine," Balin supposed as he strolled past and pretended he'd said nothing at all when Thorin looked back at him with a slight glare.

"Into me, too," Amaranth supposed, shifting on her pack-seat although the motion made her wince. "I won't run off like that again. Not at least until we reach some friendlier port."

"You won't."

"I won't."

"No..."

Thorin looked at her hand, realized he had still not let go, and released her. He stared into the darkness past her as he tried to situate his thoughts, his gaze so intense Amaranth's heart tripped about in her chest with the fear that the orcs had found them, after all. Oin, done with his tending, rose and stepped away in silence. Amaranth thanked him as he went, and he bowed his chin in a peaceful acknowledgment. At least he didn't think she'd been a fool for getting hurt like this. She let her shirt fall back down over the bandage, wrapping the hem around her finger and then loosing it again and again as if it might help her nerves.

"No," Thorin said, breaching the silent haze between them, "that is not what I mean."

She'd almost forgotten what he'd said- right, they were talking about her leaving.

"Oh?"

"You won't run off," he said, "not now, not then."

Despite her nerves, a small smile grew on Amaranth's lips.

"I've done one useful thing, and now you want me to stick around?"

"More than one," he breathed. "Many more than one."

She looked aside, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Then why do you act like I'm utterly useless all of the time?"

"Not all-"

"Yes, all of the time." A sigh. "Thorin, I know you have a Company to lead, and I may not be up to your standards, but-"

"Stop that."

"You know I'm right. It's all you've been saying since we left the Shire, how impractical it is, me being here." Her gaze hardened. "Well, I came on this quest for a reason, and despite my better judgment, I intend to see it through- even if that means suffering your impatience."

"Ama."

"You'll get your kingdom back, and even if you're the most stubborn, terse king I've ever met, you still deserve to get your home back-"

"Ama."

"-and there! I've said my piece, and you can take it however you like- and yes, I've been rash, but you must know I won't be hasty to leave agai-"

She'd begun to cross her arms over her chest, unsure why he was staring at her so, only to find the way blocked by his own chest meeting hers. There was a kiss on her lips, a kiss from him, and before she'd even begun to process the feeling, he'd leaned back. She nearly fell off her pack. His hands on her forearms, gentle, steadied her, and the spinning of her thoughts began to settle.

"What?"

"Ama..."

"What? Why?" She blinked at him. "What?"

He started to laugh, a low, rumbly sound, and her heart thudded along to its rhythm. She trembled a little, and he caressed her arms, shooting goosebumps every which way across her skin.

"You are exceedingly charming like this."

"Like what?"

"Flustered," he sighed, and she felt his breath just barely dust her collarbone. "Flustered because of me."

Amaranth's breathing stuttered several times.

"Isn't this the part where you call me foolish? Empty-headed? Tell me I'm not thinking properly, not enough for a warrior, not enough for you?"

"No."

"No?"

"No, Ama," he affirmed, "and I apologize for creating the impression I would do such a thing."

She squinted at him. "You're calling me 'Ama', and now you're saying sorry? Do you feel ill? Did you hit your head when we ducked through that underpass at the head of the valley?"

He looked a little sad. "How do I prove to you I've never meant you harm?"

Amaranth opened her mouth to tell him to explain it all to her- the admonitions, the redirections, the sullen looks -but hesitated when her heart leaped forward with a more daring request.

"Kiss me," she said before she could think it over properly. "Kiss me, and mean it."

He did as she'd asked, down to the letter, and when he pulled away, she wanted him back more than the air she breathed. When she opened her eyes, she met his gaze and understood she had made him happy. His smile grew, and when she felt it, she discovered her hands had moved to cup his chin at some point when she'd been lost in the dizzying haven of his lips. She felt lightheaded, but since the feeling did not arise from her wound, she wasn't too worried.

"You kissed me," she whispered.

"You told me to."

She brushed her thumb across his cheek, and where she might have groaned in the past, she now smiled.

"You're stubborn even now. Why am I not surprised?"

He answered her wry question far more seriously than she'd expected. "Because you know me better than I ever meant you to," he said, "and should you ever leave me- in spirit, in heart, worst of all, in body -you would be leaving with a piece of me."

"Not your stubbornness, I presume," she teased, "you could never part with that."

He drew closer without warning, and she could feel his breath on her lips.

"Nor could I ever part with my heart."

Amaranth felt that dizzy sensation coming over her again, and she welcomed it, holding Thorin's face more securely in the chalice of her palms.

"In that case, how do you feel about kissing me again?"

"The best I have ever felt," he replied, and swiftly, he did just that.

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fic #the hobbit one shot #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit thorin #thorin fanfiction #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien one shot #thorin fic #middle earth

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

LoTR(Alt): Loving a Hobbit

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Zn5fGE9

by Norriepine

Bilba Baggin is a hobbit, her grandfather is a wizard named Gandalf. Her peaceful life was interrupted by thirteen dwarfs, although she's happy that she can finally go on adventures, but don't forget that she's also a hobbit who love peace and stability! Not being chase by giant spiders or goblins!

What Bilba never expect was capturing the attention of men, dangerous men who quickly fall in love with her and everything about her. Whether it's elves, men, dwarfs, valar, orc, or even the dark lord, they stare at her with obsession much to Bilba's oblivion.

Gandalf, who was piping his smoke, sneered: As if they're going to get his granddaughter!

Bilba, who was happily cooking in her kitchen, shivers: Hmm?...why is it suddenly cold?

****

Reverse Harem x Fem Bilbo

Words: 3762, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: female Bilbo Baggins - Character, OC - Character, Thranduil, Sauron | Mairon, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Manwë, Gandalf | Mithrandir, Thorin Oakenshield, Dwarf | Dwarves, Galadriel | Artanis, Smaug (Tolkien), Azog (Tolkien), Goblins (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel, Legolas Greenleaf

Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thranduil, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins/Sauron | Mairon, Bilbo Baggins/Melkor, Bilbo Baggins/Legolas Greenleaf, Bilbo Baggins/Smaug, Bilbo Baggins/Elrond Peredhel, Azog/Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins/Bard the Bowman, Bilbo Baggins/Arogan, Bilbo Baggins/The One Ring, Manwe/Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins/Elladan/Elrohir

Additional Tags: fem bilbo, possessive, Dark Character, Yandere, OOC, Cooking, Slice of Life, Adventure, Romance, Smut, 18+, Hobbits, Body Worship, Belly Bulge, Pregnancy, Lust, Stalking, Rape/Non-con Elements

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Zn5fGE9

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #the hobbit

[lathalea]

Blame It on Cider, part 8

Fandom: The Hobbit Relationships: Thorin x Yrsa (Dwarf Female OC) Rating: E (18+ only) Warnings: snowed in, smut, smut, smut, smut, Thorin head over heels in love, fluff

Summary: After a big celebration (and a lot of cider) Yrsa, a cheeky herbalist from the Blue Mountains, wakes up in the arms of a handsome (but grumpy) blacksmith who turns out to be none other than the famous king - Thorin Oakenshield. Fighting her hangover, she decides to avoid the awkwardness of "the morning after" and disappears. Will Thorin find her again?

You can read this fic here and on AO3.

Searching for the previous parts? Here they are:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 Smut below. You have been warned.

Khuzdul: Harsûnê - my flame-lady Mabiramarralûnê - my passionate man Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls (the place in the Blue Mountains where Longbeards lived after Sack of Erebor)  Ursarusê - my tiny fire  Biraijzêr - “the pull”, for Dwarves, both being in love and feeling that this is the right person to marry Lulkh - fool

Blame It on Cider, part 8

One week later

The sweet weight of Yrsa’s body as she straddled him, the warmth of her skin flush against his, made Thorin wake up in an instant. His eyes blinked open only to see her fiery hair cascading down towards his face as she lowered herself over him. She was like a secret magical spring glade in the middle of a frozen winter forest he was fortunate enough to find. Yrsa. His eyes took in the sight of her; her radiant eyes, green as fresh grass, her glistening locks caressing his cheek and filling his lungs with the scent of a blooming meadow, her full, pink lips, inviting and warm, like the first rays of the morning sun. “Good morning, Master Blacksmith,” she brushed her nose against his, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips, her fingers playing with the curls on his chest. “Have you slept well?” “I think I may still be dreaming,” he murmured and let his lips meet hers in a lazy, lengthy kiss, their private little ritual they eagerly repeated every morning since their first night at the shepherd’s hut. A shadow of a grin formed on Thorin’s lips when he recalled that kissing was not the only thing they did with equal eagerness every morning. 

His hands slid down her shoulders, gliding down her back only to rest over the enticing curve of her hips, eliciting a small sigh out of her. Yrsa’s knees were pressed against his sides now, her hands resting on both sides of his head. A thought crossed Thorin’s mind – his warrior instinct should have been warning him about being trapped. Instead, his whole body reveled in the fact of being surrounded by such an alluring cage. Their kiss deepened, its sweetness giving way to fire inside him, kindled by her delicious mouth, by her nimble tongue, by the sensation of her pebbled nipples brushing against his pectorals. Oh yes, his whole body was awake now, hot magma running through his veins, rousing his most primal urges, spreading through his lower abdomen and making the tension in his groin grow more intense. His fingers dug into the beguiling softness of her skin as he bent his legs up, his feet flat on the bed, making her round bottom bump against his thighs. Their lips parted and Yrsa gave out a surprised gasp. Her lovely face seemed to glow as her eyes suddenly opened. Her unfocused gaze, her copper eyebrows, arched like robin’s wings, contrasting with the paleness of her creamy skin, her plump lips already slightly swollen because of his ministrations, everything about her was… wonderful. Perfect. Beautiful. Thorin yearned for Yrsa deeply, as if the last time they made love happened not several hours but several centuries ago.

A triumphant growl left his lips as he devoured her mouth, so tender, so delectable, and Yrsa let out another sigh as she slowly lowered herself over him. The impossible heat of her womanhood pressed against his hardness. Sweet Mahal, she was so wet already, so incredibly ready for him. Thorin felt dizzy, utterly drunk with her, and yet he wanted more of her, all of her, body and soul; she was his and he was hers, and he needed to show it to her at that very moment.

He began to sit up, intending to bring her even closer and then plunge into the sweet pool of her arousal to soar with her on the wings of passion, but just then a slender hand pressed against his chest.

“Let me…?” Yrsa spoke, a shadow of a blush settling on her cheeks, and all he found himself able to do was nod and rest his back on the bed once more. 

During the last few days, Thorin found it exhilarating to see those new rare glimpses of her boldness as Yrsa seemed to be testing the waters with him. Secretly he hoped that perhaps she was finally accepting that he was a Dwarf of flesh and bone and not only that cursed title that seemed to unnecessarily intimidate her.

She lowered her face to press a tender kiss on his lips, making a river of heat rush down his spine. His palms rested on her strong, shapely thighs, caressed them impatiently, ready to move to her hips and set them at that one sweet angle so that he could finally burrow inside her and become one with her.

But her small hands closed on his wrists and pulled them away from her body, pinning his arms to the bed. He met her gaze and found a playful flicker in her eyes. Yrsa tilted her head surrounded by the halo of her flaming hair that flowed all the way down to cover her mouthwatering, full breasts. Thorin wanted to reach up and expose those beauties to his hungry gaze so he could admire their perfect shapes to his heart’s content, then touch them and taste them, but Yrsa’s hands still held his wrists firmly against the bed. “You Longbeards have this saying… Let the forge come to the blacksmith, is that correct?”

“Aye.” Thorin’s tongue wet his suddenly parched lips and he was rewarded with a smile.

Yrsa let go of him, then her fingertips meandered along his shoulders, his pectorals, his abdomen and lower, kindling all-consuming fire within him, painting a sizzling trail all the way to his navel and beyond.

“Close your eyes?” she whispered. “Please?”

As darkness surrounded him, Thorin gave out a growl when her delicate fingers encircled his throbbing member and moved lazily back and forth only to finally press his tip against her pulsing heat. Yrsa descended upon him unhurriedly, letting him delve into her depths, enveloping him with her silky flesh, pulling him in deeper to the very core of her wetness and, as his hips bucked into her, she tightened around him. A half-grunt half-moan of pleasure left his lips. There was only her touch, her scent, the sound of her quickened breath, her dewy warmth, her firm thighs pressing against him. There was only her.

“Harsûna…” he muttered, savouring the moment, feeling the slight pressure of her palms splayed on his chest, her body swaying slightly. “May I look now?”

“Yes,” Yrsa whispered, her voice slightly tense, but she didn’t move.

Thorin opened his eyes. How lovely she looked above him, joined with him, slightly tilting towards his face, her moist lips forming a delicious “o” of something akin to surprise.  

“Is all well, my little witch?” he asked, moving his hand towards her face.

“It is,” she panted, her eyes unfocused. “You are just so… so much…” “Too much?”

“Just enough,” Yrsa took his hand, placing a kiss in the middle of his palm, and intertwining her fingers with his. “I’m savouring you.”

“Then let me give you more to savour,” Thorin moved his hips in a circular motion, in a way he had already learned Yrsa liked especially much. A chuckle died on her lips as she moaned and rocked on top of him. Her fingers tightened against his palm while she slowly lifted her hips only to lower herself against him, and a jolt of pleasure ran to his core. Her hips repeated the motion, slightly quicker, and then again, and soon a triumphant but contagious smile appeared on Yrsa’s face as she found her unhurried pace; each of her movements kindling new fires inside him.

Thorin did not know when her palms pressed his hands against the bed, their fingers still intertwined. Mesmerized, he devoured every single inch of her nakedness with his eyes like a starving man. He feasted on the way her body rose and fell, the way her thighs moved, her hips finding the perfect angle every single time, picking up speed; the way his hardness sank between her taut folds; the way her pert behind brushed against his own thighs and each time it happened, eliciting a moan from her. 

Thorin noticed how unfocused Yrsa’s heavily lidded eyes were while her soft eyelashes cast sensual shadows on her flushed cheeks. He could not tear his eyes off her every time she took him deep inside her, a myriad of sensations etched in her beautiful features. Snugly enveloped in the heat of her little forge, he matched his movements with hers, giving her an extra thrust whenever her pelvis met his, and then being rewarded with yet another melodic moan that fell from her lips. Not being fully in control was a new feeling for Thorin, an exhilarating feeling that swelled inside him even more whenever her velvety walls tightly wrapped around his girth in a fluid motion, never slowing down the pace.

The burning pressure in him was almost unbearable, Yrsa’s body keeled towards his chest, her breathing uneven, her fingers tightening against his even more. By now, Thorin learned her reactions well enough to recognize what was about to happen. Yrsa was lost in her passion, chasing her pleasure, her movements faster and erratic. When she pressed her alluring, trembling body against his with all her weight, his hips instinctively bucked upward, making Yrsa stiffen, and she succumbed to the rapture that consumed her with his name on her lips.

That was when the intense feeling of release rushed through Thorin’s body and stars exploded under his eyelids. As the waves of pleasure swept over him, he held her close against his chest, and it felt right and exhilarating and all-encompassing, and each breath he took filled his lungs with the scent of a blooming meadow. His fiery Yrsa.

As he felt Yrsa relax against him in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Thorin pressed a small kiss on her forehead and whispered, “Good morning, Harsûnê.“

“Thorin, Mabiramarralûnê…” she mumbled drowsily, melting into him, her full lips brushing against his earlobe.

He drifted off to sleep, holding the woman he loved in his arms, for the first time in years feeling at peace with the world.

***

“Thorin… Thorin, wake up! We have overslept!” Yrsa placed her hand on Thorin’s bare shoulder and shook it gently.

“Again…?” he grunted into a pillow, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, again,” she stifled a chuckle when he pulled the blanket over his head. “It is almost noon!”

“In that case… Let us go back to sleep,” he offered and pulled her into him, his powerful arms wrapping tightly around her. In the blink of an eye, Yrsa found herself pressed against his chest, his coarse hair tickling her nose. She would be lying to herself if she said she minded it. To be honest, the thought of dozing off like this again, enjoying the warmth of Thorin’s body and his closeness, did not seem like a bad idea at all.

“But weren’t we supposed to leave the hut first thing in the morning?” she protested faintly.

“Not after you rode me like a pony all the way to Emyn Muil and back.” As he spoke, one of his hands started tracing the line of her spine, making her purr like a cat that had just drank a bowl of cream.

She giggled, “That was yesterday. Today it was all your doing! I was minding my own business, sleeping innocently, while you decided to… stoke the fire in the forge with your poker.”

“My poker?!” He opened one eye and huffed, faking indignance. “Truly?” “Yes, and a very large one, too!” Yrsa tried to avert the damage, failing to hide a smirk in his chest. “Because its owner is a very… very big and strong Dwarf!”

“Keep talking, my little witch,” he murmured into her hair, but she tilted her head up and found his lips instead, kissing him sloppily. At that very moment, kissing Thorin was undeniably superior to talking. Yrsa did not mind that either. In fact, it would be so easy to get used to it… 

“A few more of your kisses and I will start suspecting that you want me to forget who complained about being too sore to walk today...” Thorin’s sinfully low voice rumbled in his chest, interrupting her thoughts.

“I have no memory of saying any such words!” Yrsa chuckled teasingly, her fingers running down the hard plain of his pectoral while something even harder and incredibly hot pressed against her upper thigh. Something fluttered in her core as a familiar growl left Thorin’s lips.

“Allow me to refresh your memory then, my lady,” he murmured, cupping her bottom with one of his large palms and rolling her on her back.

“Thorin! This way we’ll never leave the bed until the evening!” she rolled her eyes theatrically.

“Challenge accepted, Harsûnê,” as he spoke, his breath set the smooth skin of her breast on fire. And guess what? She did not mind it at all.

***

Ploughing through the deep snow, Yrsa smiled to herself, quickly glancing at Thorin who walked beside her. It took them two more days until they finally managed to wake up on time and leave the cavern. Shamefully she had to admit that it was not their (nonexistent) internal discipline that allowed them to finally leave that place, but rather… hunger. No, not the one of carnal variety (this one would have kept them in that bed for at least a week more). The truth was simple: their food rations were running low. Besides, Yrsa had one more reason to hurry home.

“I wonder if Ursarusê will remember me at all. I’ve been gone for two weeks,” Yrsa sighed, her eyes set on the large gates of her home city carved into a mountain wall ahead. The tip of her reddened nose tingled. It was a freezing winter afternoon and the sky was rapidly darkening, but at least the blizzard was gone for good.

“I have often left Dís with her sons for weeks or even months when they were tiny pebbles. Every time I returned, they would give me their big, toothless smiles and ask me for stories, as if I had never left,” Thorin’s lips curled up in a fond smile when he stopped for a moment.

Yrsa took his outstretched gloved hand and squeezed it in appreciation. Whatever happened between them in that shepherd’s hut (she desperately tried to avoid thinking about the most graphic details at the moment, soon she would be home, greeting her family and she needed to have her wits about her and act like a respectable lady and not like his Harsûnê), and wherever it might lead, having Thorin around felt surprisingly… well… good. Comforting. Reassuring. And no, she was not drunk (and certainly not on cider! Uh, what would she give now for one mug of warm, spiced cider!). Unless one meant the dizziness she felt every time Thorin looked at her in that tender way of his, making her knees weak.

She had to admit that after spending a bit more time with him, she occasionally caught herself thinking of him as “her” Thorin. Not a haughty king, certainly not a grumpy blacksmith, but just Thorin. Thorin, her… who? Yrsa was not quite sure. A part of her (a growing part, to be honest) needed time to seriously think about his proposal, or rather, his proposals. Each of them, separately, overwhelmed her with its implications, and together, they made her mind whirl.

The first one, the offer of employment in Thorinuldûm, seemed too good to be true. Luckily, Yrsa now knew Thorin too well to even suspect that an honourable Dwarf like him would lower himself to bribing her in that manner only because of their… um… not-yet-specified-but-very-private-and-very-enjoyable-relation. From what she heard, the new settlement of the Ereborean refugees was quite large. If they really had only one healer and one apothecary, as Thorin claimed, she could easily make her ends meet there — unlike in her home city, where there seemed to be as many healers, surgeons, and herbalists as mountain goat herders. And Thorin reassured her that both she and Ursarusê would be welcome in Thorin's Halls (and of course she only meant the name of the city in Westron, certainly not Thorin's own halls! No, not his home! Certainly not his bedroom! Not at all! Not thinking about a cute little rocking cradle standing next to a bed large enough to fit two people!). In that new city, she and her little girl would be away from the prying eyes of people who have known Yrsa all of her life – and their wagging tongues. Not often a Dwarf-maiden returned home after a long absence with a newborn babe in her arms, but without a husband.

And then there was Thorin’s second proposal. Whenever she tried to wrap her head around it, something seemed to paralyse her at the idea of her, Yrsa, a simple herbalist, courting the king of Longbeards. And don’t even try to think about where that courting would lead to, Yrsa’s brain! Every Dwarf knew that courting was only a step away from plaiting the marriage braids and rarely—if ever—broken off. And Dwarves married only once in their lives! One simply did not agree to be courted if they did not feel the biraijzêr. The pull, as her people called it. The deep conviction that one found the person they wanted to spend their life with. Did Thorin feel it? Or was it just mostly lust and maybe a pinch of infatuation on his part? And what about her own feelings? As much as she liked the idea of enjoying Thorin’s closeness or falling asleep in his arms every night, she realised how absurd the idea of her becoming his wife was. Stupid Dwarf! Why couldn’t he be a simple Broadbeam blacksmith? Why did he have to ruin everything by being born into some stupid royal family half the world away?

“Do not fret, Harsûnê. Ursarusê will be happy to see you again,” the stupid Dwarf’s rumbly voice reached her.

“Your nephews… How old are they?” Yrsa tried to focus on their conversation again.

“Fili is eleven and Kili is six, but he claims he is ‘almost ten’,” she heard Thorin chuckle. “I wonder what you will think of them when you meet them.”

Yrsa did not feel any fluttering in her belly at the thought of crossing the threshold of his halls (yes, now she meant his home!) and meeting the stupid Dwarf’s family. She gritted her teeth. It was simply hunger, nothing else.

“Kili reminds me of Tovi, my eldest brother’s son. He is eight, but these days he claims he is ‘almost half-battle age’. I suspect it may have something to do with the fact that his little brother was born a few weeks ago.”

“My mother tells me I was exactly like Kili when my younger brother was born,” Thorin admitted. Looking into his face, it was easy to imagine a tiny, proud princeling puffing up his chest and Yrsa could not stop herself from smiling.

A sudden, strong whiff of wind made Thorin look at the sky with a slight frown. 

“If your leg allows it, let us walk faster. I do not like the sight of that cloud.”

Nodding in agreement, she squeezed his hand again and they hastened their pace. Yrsa’s sprained ankle was not yet fully healed—neither was Thorin’s leg—but she did her best, using Thorin’s arm as support when needed. The thought of another blizzard coming soon added to her strength. They would rest and recuperate when they reached the Firebeard stronghold and Yrsa’s family home. The plan was simple. They were to spend several days there and then she would pack all the needed things, her tinctures and herbal essences – everything that could be needed to heal Thorin’s ailing mother. After that, they would travel across the mountains, to Thorinuldûm.

But first, Thorin had to meet her family. And not run away screaming.

***

Yrsa’s stomach growled. It had to be hunger. But since the moment she saw the entrance to the Dwarvish stronghold she was born and raised at, there was also a growing worry in her, making her stomach clench. With every step they were approaching her family home and she still had not talked with Thorin. As soon as the guards greeted them and let them pass into the spacious entrance hall, Yrsa pulled Thorin to the side, away from curious ears. There was no use delaying the inevitable. 

“What is it?” Thorin frowned, taking off his hood.

“Would you…” she swallowed. “Would you be greatly offended if I introduced you to my family simply as Thorin the blacksmith?”

He shook his head, “Not at all. This is my craft, after all. Is anything the matter, Yrsa? You look worried.”

“It is just… My family…” she looked away. “It would be better if they did not know about… about who you are. Apart from being a blacksmith, that is. I mean… Maybe when…”

“YRSAAA!!!” an animalistic roar pierced the air. No. This could NOT be happening. Not now. Something—or rather someone—very bulky and very furry charged towards her, heavy footsteps thudding against the stone floor. That someone looked exactly as it sounded – like a drunk bear.

“What in the name of–” Thorin started.

“Ugh!” Yrsa managed to utter before the aforementioned drunk bear crushed her in a hearty hug.

“Lil’ sis!” the beast exclaimed and then hiccuped. “You’re back!”

“Bjalfi! My ribs!” she chuckled, disentangling herself from her brother’s affectionate embrace and giving Thorin a reassuring smile only to see a frown on his face. Not good. She needed to act fast. “Thorin, this is my brother, Bjalfi. Bjalfi, this is Thorin, my… travelling companion.” “Your travelling companion, huh?” Her brother took a good look at him, from head to toe. Yrsa cleared her throat. She was not lying, was she? It was true, they were travelling together and they were companions. Of sorts. They kept each other company, right? Especially during long winter nights… Shut up, Yrsa’s feminine parts! It was time to use the upper brain for once and avoid getting herself in trouble!

“Yes, we met on the trail. Thorin will be staying with us for a couple of days,” she added in a firm voice.

“Will he now…” Bjalfi folded his arms across his chest and glared at her “companion”. And then he hiccuped again.

“Yes, he will,” she rested her fists on her hips. “Because I invited him!” 

Yrsa ignored her brother’s ostensible huff that followed and then her eyes rested on the darkening frown on Thorin’s face. She wondered if she should thank Mahal for his silence so far or prepare for the storm his calm preceded.

“A pleasure to meet Yrsa’s brother,” Thorin finally spoke. Coldly. Here he was, the grumpy blacksmith, folding his arms as well and scowling. And then she glanced at her brother who was busy sizing Thorin up and letting out something that sounded like a growl. She tried not to roll her eyes too much. Overprotective Dwarves and their egos.

“Straight from the tavern, eh, Bjalfi?” Yrsa asked lightly, attempting to change the subject.

“Been celebratin’, sis!” her brother grinned widely and hiccuped, making the multiple braid cuffs in his copper-coloured beard clink. “Mithril! He won the race!”

“Congratulations! I knew he would make it this time!” she patted his meaty forearm and explained to Thorin, “Mithril is Bjalfi’s prized race buck. My brother is a mountain goat breeder.”

“Aye,” Bjalfi offered proudly, swaying slightly and puffing up his chest. He was slightly shorter than Thorin, but with his bulk and muscle mass her bear of a brother made up for the height difference. When Thorin offered his reserved congratulations for the victory, Bjalfi narrowed his eyes. 

“It was easy. You just need to know how the mind of a billy goat works,” he flashed his teeth in a skewed grin. “In a way, those beasties are like men. Always thinking of getting their paws on a piece of… juicy cabbage. You just need to show them their place, y’know?”

Thorin pressed his lips in a thin line and balled his palm in a fist.

Yrsa felt a pressure increasing in her temples, a sign that a headache was coming. She stepped closer to Thorin, giving him an I-am-losing-my-patience-but-also-please-no-scenes-in-public-yes-I-know-my-brother-is-a-lulkh-sometimes look. Or at least she hoped that was what her gaze conveyed.

“Bjalfi, one more word and I swear…” she groaned and shook her head. “Let us go home, I am famished.”

Yrsa was about to pick up her rucksack from the floor where she had left it when Bjalfi’s heavy hand rested on her shoulder.

“No, no, allow me, lil’ sis. You’re tired!” he pointed at the stone floor, trying not to sway, and added in an ostentatiously resounding whisper, flexing his muscles. “Between you and me, your companion looks like he’s a bit of a wimp.”

“Bjalfi!” Yrsa did what sisters usually did in these kinds of situations and gave him a kick right in his ankle. And she had her favourite iron toe cap boots on! Unfortunately, her misbehaving brother wore thick leather boots too and did not even notice it. Drat! Life was so cruel sometimes.

“What, sis?” he grinned mischievously. “You know very well what I’m talking about!” she retorted, wishing her eyes could shoot lightnings.

“I’d better carry it.” Thorin lifted the rucksack with a grunt. “Bjalfi does not seem stable enough. Not enough juicy cabbage in his diet, I assume.”

“Oh, no! Not you too!” Yrsa turned to him, irritation growing in her. “I can carry it myself, thank you very much. You both better follow me and stop behaving like little boys!”

With these words, she grabbed the rucksack and marched off, gritting her teeth. Behind her, she heard someone grunting and someone else hiccuping. Muttering something about ridiculous Dwarves, she kept on walking, followed by the angry stomping of two pairs of heavy Dwarvish boots.

And to make matters worse, her stomach growled loudly, echoing against the walls of the corridor. She needed some food. And a mug of cider. Or five.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

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Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry  @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512  @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @elliepie1226 @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff  @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knitastically @saucyminxbrainspill @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @jaskierthelover @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thorin #thorin oakenshield x oc #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x yrsa #fanfic #romance #blame it on cider #cider #in vino veritas

[ao3feed-tolkien]

LoTR(Alt): Loving a Hobbit

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/JWlbLgA

by Norriepine

Bilba Baggin is a hobbit, her grandfather is a wizard named Gandalf. Her peaceful life was interrupted by thirteen dwarfs, although she's happy that she can finally go on adventures, but don't forget that she's also a hobbit who love peace and stability! Not being chase by giant spiders or goblins!

What Bilba never expect was capturing the attention of men, dangerous men who quickly fall in love with her and everything about her. Whether it's elves, men, dwarfs, valar, orc, or even the dark lord, they stare at her with obsession much to Bilba's oblivion.

Gandalf, who was piping his smoke, sneered: As if they're going to get his granddaughter!

Bilba, who was happily cooking in her kitchen, shivers: Hmm?...why is it suddenly cold?

****

Reverse Harem x Fem Bilbo

Words: 3762, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: female Bilbo Baggins - Character, OC - Character, Thranduil, Sauron | Mairon, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Manwë, Gandalf | Mithrandir, Thorin Oakenshield, Dwarf | Dwarves, Galadriel | Artanis, Smaug (Tolkien), Azog (Tolkien), Goblins (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel, Legolas Greenleaf

Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thranduil, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins/Sauron | Mairon, Bilbo Baggins/Melkor, Bilbo Baggins/Legolas Greenleaf, Bilbo Baggins/Smaug, Bilbo Baggins/Elrond Peredhel, Azog/Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins/Bard the Bowman, Bilbo Baggins/Arogan, Bilbo Baggins/The One Ring, Manwe/Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins/Elladan/Elrohir

Additional Tags: fem bilbo, possessive, Dark Character, Yandere, OOC, Cooking, Slice of Life, Adventure, Romance, Smut, 18+, Hobbits, Body Worship, Belly Bulge, Pregnancy, Lust, Stalking, Rape/Non-con Elements

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/JWlbLgA

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

[bluewolven]

Beyond the Shadow of Doubt (Read on AO3)

Summary:

The Dwarves told me their previous burglar didn’t work out. So they needed to hire a new one. Coincidentally, I needed money--a lot of it. But there's a part of me I kept hidden from the light of day, a part of me that not even the kindest of Dwarves will overlook. Yet every day I pressed my chances, because I would follow their King to the end of everything.

The Hobbit AU, Thorin Oakenshield x Female OC, First Person POV

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationship(s): Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character

Characters:  Thorin Oakenshield, Original Female Character(s), Thranduil (Tolkien), Gandalf | Mithrandir, Elrond Peredhel, Bard the Bowman, Thorin's Company, Fíli (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien), Balin (Tolkien), Dwalin (Tolkien), Bifur (Tolkien), Bofur (Tolkien), Bombur (Tolkien), Óin (Tolkien), Glóin (Tolkien), Ori (Tolkien), Nori (Tolkien), Dori (Tolkien)

Additional tags: Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Thorin Is an Idiot, Character(s) of Color, Romance, Angst, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Implied Kíli/Tauriel, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Additional Warnings In Author's Note

Chapters 1-3 are now live!

#bluewolven ao3 #the hobbit #lotr #thorin oakenshield #trevadril shadesulk #thorin x oc #ao3 #original character #art and whatnot to be added later

[fromtheboundlesssea]

Family of Choice Chapters 12 + 13

Kíli III

Briar III

#my writing #family of choice #kili #fili #kili durin #fili durin #bilbo baggins #female bilbo baggins #fem!bilbo #briar baggins #hobbit oc #thorin oakenshield x fem!bilbo #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin oakenshield

[daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin]

“Your name, please. If I may."

(Legolas x Elf Moon Goddess Reader)

(Not my gifs, credit goes to the creators)

Middle-Earth Masterlist

My Main Blog Masterlist

Requested by: @chocotacobread

Requests: Open

Fandom: The Hobbit Trilogy

Request: ‘ Hi, i love your blog and I saw your requests are open And i was wondering if you could a legolas x elf moon goddess where him and the company comes across her in an abandoned village and legolas falls her. Sorry if this confusing as i dont know how to end it :)) ‘

Thank you so much for requesting! I am so happy that you like my blog. I was unsure what to write, but I did have an idea to begin with. I hope that this is okay. I don’t know why I struggled so much, haha. I did try my best. I hope you like it!

I’ve never written a Goddess reader before.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of.

Words: 2K

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.

This should only be found on my blog.

Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin .

A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.

I tagged ‘Thorin Oakenshield x Reader’ as in the Company in this case, just to clarify, sorry if I offended anyone!

Thank you.

:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dwarves," Legolas whispers distastefully, watching down at the Company from his perch on the branch. There they are, acting oblivious as always, chortling about, throwing their food, playing with it - it is truly revolting. He almost regrets joining Tauriel in her mission to protect the Dwarves from the Orc Pack hunting them, especially the youngest Prince, Kíli.

It is not yet night, but the Company has stopped for luncheon, a prospect that Legolas finds foolish. He looks up from the Company and glances warily at the trees around them. Who knows what other foul creatures linger in the Woods, possibly more grotesque than Naugrim?

"Tauriel." His gaze is pulled down to the Dwarven prince, who waves over the redheaded elf, who had decided to patrol on the ground against Legolas' better judgement. His eyes flicker to Tauriel, who returns it, before she looks down to the Dwarf with a small smile, much to his distaste. 

"I am certain my presence is better requested up here, Master Dwarf." Legolas watches curiously as her eyes light up and her cheeks quiver in an attempt to not laugh. 

He does not hear what is said next, but he does try to stop the Elf Maiden from jumping down and making her way over to the Dwarfs, which she brushes away, making him frown. How could she fancy him?

He continues to watch for some time, not moving an inch, until the young Hobbit comes running into the clearing, making the Company stand and erupt into a quick conversation. He still cannot understand why they would send someone they see as a friend to scout, but, perhaps, the skills of a Halfling are useful.

"Is it safe, Master Baggins?" Gandalf asks, pulling himself up with his staff.

"Yes, there is an abandoned village, but -"

Thorin ignores him, turning to his clan and bellowing, "we make North, our burglar here has found a clear path."

The dwarves erupt into cheers, reaching forward to pat him on the back, as well as each other. 

"He found us a place to sleep," Glóin cheers loudly.

"Hopefully there are beds," Ori quietly says, earning another cheer from the group as conversation booms through the clearing.

However, the Elf does not focus on this, instead, he listens to what the Dwarves are clearly to deaf to hear, Gandalf asking the Halfling, "But, what?"

There's a pause, and Legolas catches how the air catches in his throat before he continues with a laugh, "nothing, Gandalf." He glances to the floor, hands-on hip as he pats his foot on the ground, and then smiles up at Mithrandir, "I just wanted to ask when we are leaving, as the sun will be set in a few hours."

Legolas turns his head to the side, curiously, eyes not leaving the Hobbit.

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"My Prince, they are not too bad," Tauriel says, slipping into Sindarin, matching the pace of her Prince, not looking away from the road ahead of them.

Legolas looks to her, somehow not tripping over the uneven road ahead, matching the language, "you mean the 'tall' Dwarf is not too bad."

She sharply turns to him, mouth slightly open to respond, but she does not, instead, she turns back ahead. 

There are a few moments of silence before the two suddenly stop, turning to each other.

"What is it?" Thorin asks, halting his own conversation with Dwalin as well as the others'. Sighing angrily, he pushes forward, "are we in danger? Tell me now."

The Elves do not even spare him a glance, only looking down to the young Hobbit that comes over.

"I can feel it too, the woods felt healthier, safer, here."

"They are," Legolas whispers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

The company were cautious upon their entry into the village, caution growing upon the lack of people present and the crumbling buildings. How could the trees and air feel healthier when there is no one here?

They are as quiet as they can, which makes Legolas' eyes roll at the continued heavy footsteps of the Mûmakil - apologies, Dwarf.

They continue this way, the Elves dancing over the twigs and stone, the Dwarf's jumping, the Halfling hopping, and the Wizard walking over until the cobblestone roads become less broken, the houses more gathered, and the skies clearer. They reach the centre of the village, where a single, large, intricate fountain stands away from the buildings. 

"I have no memory of this village," Mithrandir whispers, causing everyone's eyes to flicker to him, frozen in place.

Everyone looks around, and even Legolas finds himself gazing at the beautiful sky, a sky he has not seen in such a long time in his own land.

"If I do remember correctly, there were no mention of a village nearby on the map," Balin mumbles, and most turn to stare at him in alarm, eyes widening.

"It looks like a wishing well." Bilbo whispers, something tingling at the back of his brain.

"It is a fountain," Kíli quietly says, staring cautiously to the skies. 

"Did you not scout properly laddie," Óin asks, his hearing piece pressed tightly against his ear.

"I did," Bilbo becomes tense, quite offended as he looks over to the Dwarf, who apparently has not heard him, or is ignoring him, "I have you know I did. But -"

 "But he found me," she says, stepping forth from one of the side streets. The Company turns in alarm, Thorin pushing Bilbo behind him, weapons prepped. However, their grips weaken upon the sight before them.

A beautiful Elf Maiden weaves her way around them, stopping in front of the fountain. Her hair is braided up, lesser than half-up, half-down, moonstones and jewels weaved throughout, a twinkling, silver circlet on top of her head. She wears a silver gown, which fades into mithril past her waist. Her feet are bare, and yet she does not get hurt on the uneven ground beneath them. She glows brighter than an Elf, somehow, her ears are slightly pointier, she towers over the Dwarves and the Halfling, but she is not taller than the Woodland Prince. Her eyes are bright, the gown highlighting their beauty, her smile true and calming.

Her smile is far more radiant than her attire, and Legolas finds himself lowering his bow, an awestricken look on his face.

"Who are you?" He accidentally slips into a more forgotten language, Silvan. 

Yet it does not faze her, as she turns to him, responding fluently in the same tongue, "I am a Goddess of the Stars and a Goddess of the Moon."

She repeats it in Westron, the common tongue, and soon everyone is bowing before her.

She laughs politely, smiling fondly down to them all, "you may rest here for as long as you need, although under my protection, the village left some time ago."

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy : Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin ~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I heard that even a single gaze, can cause you to be enchanted by her," the youngest Prince whispers, raising Bilbo's brows, and the company begins to whisper.

"Her charms appear to have worked on the prince," Bilbo whispers, and Legolas quickly feels the stares of everyone on his back, but it does not faze him, for he is entranced by the Goddess. 

“What is her name?” Thorin’s eldest nephew asks, also unable to remove his eyes from the sight in front of them.

“Don’t be daft, lad,” Bombur says, shaking his head at the prince.

He turns to him, a brow raises, “why?”

“Never ask her name,” Bofur states, leaning forward, his finger pointing out to the centre of the group, “there are dire consequences, you fool.”

“How come?” All eyes of the original Company turn to the young Halfling, “she is beautiful. What can she do that is so terrible?” He turns back to his friends, “she has offered us nothing but comfort.” It is manners to ask one’s name. Why can they not do so?

“Do not be fooled, Mister Baggins, for if you ask her name, you are indebted to her for an eternity. Following her every whim.” Gandalf states, pipe in the corner of his mouth.

Bilbo turns back to the fair maiden, who is engaged in conversation with Tauriel, a polite, honest smile on her face, which is quite contagious, even spreading to him, despite his fear.

“No one would want that,” the deaf Dwarf states, also unable to rip his eyes from her.

Legolas, who had been listening from another tree, turns to the Goddess, a fond smile on his face. Perhaps, it would not be so terrible. After all, there are no fearful tales of at least her in their home. Only tales of the heartbreak, and such that follows. Although, he cannot remember the stories well, it has been centuries, more so, since he was young enough to hear them before bed.

But he would not mind it.

No.

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Over the next few days, he finds himself with enough courage to approach her, which she meets with a smile each time. 

He learns many things, such as it is her stars, they harvest into Mithril, and they also praise her on holy days. She is not in the Undying Lands, for the people of Middle-Earth need her help, which Legolas simply found inspirational, and what caused further pleasant flutters in his stomach. He was taken with her, truly, and undoubtedly. However, not only did she look at him the same as she did with everyone else, but their time in this village was also coming to an end.

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On their last time, she gifted them each their requests. Legolas would have enjoyed a lock of her hair but felt too out of presence to do so; it is a sacred thing after all.

"You are always welcome in my village, whenever you need it, it shall be here," she smiles fondly at the group, her cheeks growing flushed at the heat of the gaze of the prince. She is only a young Goddess, and not yet accustomed to the gazes of admirers, especially those the returns the feelings off. 

"Thank you, my lady," Gandalf bows before her, the others soon doing the same.

"You are most welcome," she looks up from him and looks at each of them, "I bless you with grace and luck on your journey."

There are many sharp intakes of breaths, fond smiles, and shouts of gratitude from them all, which widens her smile, "however, if you fall under the sickness of the mountain, my blessing will not be able to reach you."

"You needn't fear, my lady," Thorin comes to the front, "I am not my grandfather." He kneels before her, more gracious than anyone could ever know. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy : Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Will I ever see you again?" The blonde prince asks, kneeling on one knee. The others have already gone to prepare their ponies and horses, but the Woodland Elf decided to stay, much to her confusion.

"I would like to hope so, and you may stand."

He does so, his eyes finally meeting hers, "I have thought of what I would like for my gift."

She raises a brow, arms clasping behind her back, "and what is that my prince."

Despite the flurry of emotions inside him, none show on his face, "your name, please. If I may."

She gasps, hand moving to cover her mouth. The winds freeze, the birds cease their calls, and the trees stop calling.

"Do you not know how sacr -"

"I do," he nods, "and it would be an honour to hear it. I know what it means."

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The young Prince smiles gleefully on his horse, tuning out all around him. Oh yes, he knows what knowing the true name of a Goddess means, and he will make true on his promise.

 He will marry (Y/n).

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#legolas x reader #legolas x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #lord of the rings imagine #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings x reader #legolas x elf reader #legolas x oc #legolas x female reader #legolas x fem!reader #hobbit imagine #hobbit x reader #legolas greenleaf x reader #legolas greenleaf x you

[spookyjuicefiction]

A King's Bounty, Part 1

Pairing: f!Reader x Thorin Oakenshield

Description: Y/N is a bounty hunter sent to kill the exiled King Under the Mountain, but makes a deal that will benefit them both. What she doesn't know is that this deal might change both of their fates. Fits in with the actual storyline of the first Hobbit movie (kinda). Enemies to lovers vibes I guess.

A/N: Yeah hi this has been rolling around in my head, I haven't written in ages but been feeling like I need a creative outlet so I'm just gonna go for it I guess!

Warnings: little bit of aggression but nothing crazy

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The road to Bree was dark, wet, cold, and murky. The exiled King Under the Mountain pulled his furs closer to his chin to ward away the chill, checking over his shoulder every few minutes. It seemed that more than one enemy plotted against him, especially as he traveled alone to meet with Gandalf the Gray. One can never be too careful.

In spite of his cautious glances, the dwarf was caught by surprise as a body slammed into him at full force, knocking him off the road into the wet mud. He scrambled to find his weapon, but his attacker had skillfully disarmed him and had a knife to his throat all at once. Breathing heavily, the exiled king could see nothing but a hooded figure looming over him.

"You should be more careful, Thorin Oakenshield. You have a rather high price on your head."

Thorin was surprised that the voice sounded feminine, but his face gave nothing away. He made no answer. His attacker chuckled under her breath.

"The king is lost for words? What a shame. I had hoped for a speech as grand as your legacy. This will surely make for a boring story when I deliver your head to my buyer." The figure cocked her head, blade still sharp at Thorin's neck. "Unless... you have another idea? Something to dissuade me from collecting my bounty?"

Thorin swallowed thickly, mortified at his condition but at a complete loss for other options. His attacker had him completely cornered. He tried to remain prideful as he spoke:

"Your alluding leads me to believe you have heard the prophecies spoken. That the King Under the Mountain will reclaim his throne, as well as his riches. Perhaps we might make an arrangement."

The attacker chuckled again. "Perhaps we might." Slowly, she withdrew her blade from the dwarf's neck and sat back, allowing him to draw deeper breaths but still unable to move. He could see the glint of his sword several feet away where she had discarded it. He calculated that she was much too quick for him to make a dive for it, so he must bargain with her.

"If you will grant me my life tonight, I will pay you twice the amount you would get for my bounty," he began slowly. Thorin wished he could read his attacker's expression, but her face was obscured by darkness and her heavy hood. The anonymity made him uncomfortable, but he pressed forth. "If you aid in my quest to reclaim my throne, I will pay you four times the amount of my bounty. You have the word of a king."

This time, the attacker laughed in earnest. Through her mirth, she ridiculed, "the word of a king, eh? A king with no throne, no people, no riches to call his own? And what will I be paid should you not succeed? Am I to trust a greedy dwarf at his word, here on a common roadside?" But even as she spoke, she lowered her weapon and lessoned the pressure that forced him to the ground.

"It is fortunate for you, Thorin Oakenshield, that the prospect of adventure and a change of scenery excites me more than a sack of promised gold. I accept your bargain. Henceforth, you may count me in your service to aid in your quest for your throne. I suppose it is your lucky day, providing you do not try to stab me in the back."

With this, the figure stood and gathered Thorin's discarded sword, handing it back to him. He nodded curtly as he rose and took his weapon, sheathing it at his side.

"You have my word. As you stated, the price on my head at the moment is quite high. Perhaps you might accompany me to my meeting in Bree. The quest will not go far if I am killed on my way there."

"Indeed," the figure agreed, a sense of mocking still plaguing her tone. "You may count me as your royal bodyguard."

With trepidation, the pair set off along the road, walking side by side. Thorin remained uneasy as they neared the gate to Bree, glancing out of the corner of his eye to ensure his new ally was indeed trying to protect him, not harm him. But she strode alongside him with an ease to her body language, her daggers sheathed at her sides. He wished he could read the tells of her facial expressions, but still they remained obscured.

At length, the pair passed through the gates at Bree and strode into the bustling local pub known as the Prancing Pony, where Thorin was to meet the gray wizard. He glanced around warily, not the least bit at his new companion who, after a decided look around, finally settled into a wobbly chair.

At last, the strange woman drew down her hood. Thorin was taken aback as he took in her appearance; somehow, it was not at all as he expected. Her eyes were at once cautious and relaxed, as though she were confident in her ability against any newly perceived foe. Her hair was charmingly tousled in a way that fit with her overall demeaner. He suspected by the shape of her ears and her stature that she was human. To his embarrassment, Thorin found he had to look away to keep from staring, as his companion was more beautiful than he had imagined. To his chagrin, this did not go unnoticed.

"Never seen such a lovely lady bounty hunter, eh, king?" she smirked with an over-indulgent wink. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. It's a long way to the Lonely Mountain."

She's got that right, thought Thorin, looking pointedly anywhere but at her. What have I gotten myself into, here? He noticed a few unsavory characters lurking in the corners of the bar, some with a rogue eye on him. He quickly glanced back to the woman, and felt a slight relief that she eyed these might-be villains with a sharp eye. It seemed she took her new role as bodyguard quite seriously.

"Y/N is my name, by the way. Not that you bothered to ask." She leaned back in her chair, motioning to the waitress for an ale without taking her eyes off a particularly seedy man in a back corner.

"Y/N," Thorin repeated. It suited her well, at once daggers and honey. "I am grateful to have you in my company. Let us drink to the riches that await us."

Y/N met his eyes with a smirk, and toasted her mug to his. "To the unexpected journey ahead."

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Thorin still did not understand what on earth the company needed a burglar for. But even a king could not argue with the likes of a wizard, and thus he found himself at a squat table in the Shire eating off a fussy, floral plate set upon a neatly pressed doily. But though the wizard and burglar in question were present, as well as his most favored and beloved kin, singing dwarven drinking songs and passing around wine, Thorin's attention remained toward the round door hole, where the last member of their company was meant to arrive. Was she coming?

He didn't much care. They were all better off if she didn't, really. Capable though she might have been that night on the road to Bree, a female human could not have much to offer a company of battle-hardened dwarves and a wizard on an epic journey to a dragon-infested mountain of gold. Yet his curiosity kept him wondering if she would make good on her promise; after all, she had forgone his bounty to safe his life.

He had nearly given her up as a no-show when she came stumbling in, tripping over the doorway with a snort and swaggering into the dining room, hood down and knives tucked into their sheathes around her waist. The dwarven company fell silent at her arrival, all taking in her appearance with wide eyes. She stopped as she reached the table, looking around with her eyebrows up.

"Well, what's wrong then, pass the wine!" she cried with a laugh, and the whole company burst out laughing along with her, passing the bottle down. Only Bilbo, the Hobbit-burglar, seemed bemused by her presence; the dwarves pulled her to the table with raucous laughter and song, more or less anointing her as one of their company. Thorin surveyed the scene quietly, his eyes flashing to Gandalf's. The wizard looked at him quizzically, as if he hoped to understand something unsaid. Thorin looked pointedly into his cup so as not to meet Gandalf's gaze. When he looked up, though, his eyes met with Y/N's. She raised her goblet to him with a smirk and took a hearty sip.

"Well then. Let's go slay a dragon."

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I'm hoping to continue this! I guess lmk if you want tagged!

Part 2

#thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorin fic #the hobbit #bofur #lotr fanfic #dwarves #unexpected journey #strong female fanfiction #reader insert fic #hobbit reader insert

[avaria-revallier]

Time and Time again

A new story I have been working on for some time, come and check it out ^^

Aurora left Shire all those years ago, after the incident with her family and the unfortunate tasing of her late husband.

She would have not dreamed to return to the green hills so soon, but a letter from her dear sister, Belladonna, changed her mind. The letter had found her too late, so she was only able to express her condolence to Bilbo, her nephew.

She didn't stay too long in her hometown though. Not due to the shunning and mean comments of her fellow hobbits, but because of a certain dwarf stealing away her heart. Well, and she surely couldn't let her cute nephew head blindly into tagged all on his own, on the recommendation of her old meddling friend.

@shrimpsthings @kumqu4t @grunid @lathalea

#the hobbit #hobbit #hobbit imagine #hobbit headcannons #bilbo baggins #thorin #the hobbit fanfiction #tolkien #the hobbit bilbo #thorin oakenshield #dwalin x female reader #dwalin x oc #dwalin x reader #thilbo #sassy bilbo #thorin x bilbo #Dwalin x Aurora #tolkien ff #hobbit fanfic #adventure