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fizzyxcustard · 9 hours
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Good evening!
What are your top 5 Armitage characters in rank order (though I bet I can guess number one)?
Well, of course you can guess number 1. Hahahaha! That goes without saying, my love.
1) Thorin Oakenshield
2) John Porter (people maybe be surprised at this one. I do love his character so much, despite not writing much about him)
3) Raymond de Merville (phwoar!!)
4) Lucas North (I was tied between him and Raymond. Such a hard decision of who to put above who)
5) Guy of Gisborne
How about yours? Everyone else? I’m curious as to what your thoughts are. Was this surprising to anyone? Obviously it’d be surprising after number 1. 😁😁🤣🤣🤣
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fizzyxcustard · 17 hours
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Something in the Night ~ Chapter Thirteen
Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 
Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 
Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…
Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren
Warnings: Description of battle and wounds
Rating: T
Word Count: 4.1k
Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @lathalea @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep
If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!
Previous chapters can be found here. 
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They departed Mirkwood less than an hour later, and followed along the Forest River. In the distance, the Lonely Mountain rose pink and purple in the late morning sunlight and she gazed upon it, Nina couldn't help but feel a hint of urgency. They would be arriving within a day or so, and that meant she had to do what she set out to do soon.
But, as she sat astride her pony, watching Thorin astride his ahead of her, the sunlight dancing along his long black curls, glinting off the silver clip at the back of his head, she realized she no longer hated him. Perhaps she’d never hated him, but only hated what had happened. Although he had unleashed Smaug, it was never with the intent of setting him upon Esgaroth. 
Instead, as she watched him, she found she wanted to know more about him. Last evening, in the low light, she’d seen the thin white scar running diagonally from his right temple toward the inside of his eyebrow and found herself wondering where he’d gotten it. The same with the various other scars she’d seen on his body—what looked like bite marks across his back and chest, and two curious wounds lower on his abdomen amongst others. She wanted to ask him about Esgaroth and the restoration of her hometown, about his childhood and what led him to his quest for Erebor.
More than anything, she wanted another night with him. She no longer cared about revenge, no longer cared about the bounty. Neither one mattered. Not only would they not give her back what had been stolen from her, but she found for the first time in a long time, she looked to the future. 
Looked to the possibility of a future with Thorin. 
Dwarves do not take this lightly, Nina. It’s not in our makeup to leap from bed to bed, you know.
Did that mean he thought there was the possibility of a future with her as well? 
The trouble was, she had to be honest with him. Absolutely honest.
And that terrified her. She had no idea how to tell him, no idea how he would take learning such a thing. It might be an unforgivable matter as far as he was concerned and she wouldn’t be able to fault him if it was. 
They were just beyond the easternmost border of Mirkwood, with the River Running in their sights when the first arrow split the air with a sharp whistle. Without thinking, Nina leapt from her mount and as the pony bolted, she yanked her bow and an arrow from her quiver and readied to return fire.
Both Thorin and Dwalin had their weapons at the ready when the first orcs appeared from the trees and all three turned to face them as more arrows sliced their way. 
As if to remind her about the damage an arrow could do, Nina’s shoulder throbbed for the first time since the wound had been inflicted upon it, and she fought to ignore it as orcs seemingly poured from the trees, swords drawn, arrows resting and ready to be fired.
“There’s too many of them!” Dwalin’s roar was only barely audible above the sounds as he swung his axe to cleave an orc in half. 
“Retreat back into Mirkwood!” Thorin shouted back before being accosted by two orcs.
Nina raced to close the space between her and Thorin and as she neared, he hollered, “Get down!”
Without thinking, she did as he ordered, and a moment later, sticky black orc blood splattered across her face and upper body, while the head Thorin had just removed from its shoulders hit her squarely in hers. 
As he moved, another orc came up behind him and Nina fit an arrow between his eyes for his trouble. Thorin grabbed her arm. “Mirkwood, now!”
Before last night, she could have just let her bow fall, grabbed her sword, and dispatched him right then and there. No one would have been any wiser. Dwalin was fifty yards ahead of them, clearing a path back to Mirkwood. Orcs wouldn’t care. They would still try to cut her down regardless as they might even be seeking the bounty on Thorin’s head amongst themselves.
But everything was different now. And so, her sword remained in its sheath and she jerked free from him, spinning around to fire another arrow as she yelled, “Go! I’ll catch up with you!”
Two more orcs descended upon them and Nina couldn’t hold back her yelp as the tip of a blade sliced cleanly across the front of her right leg. Her leg buckled. She went to one knee, grabbing the cut with one hand. Her stomach clenched as blood oozed from the wound, soaking into her trousers. 
A shadow fell over her and without thinking, she let the bow hit the ground and held the arrow she’d been readying to fire straight up. Thanks to the power of his own momentum, the orc impaled himself on it and with a low oath, slid down it to slump against her.
Between the fiery hot pain in her leg and the stomach-churning rancid stink of the orc, Nina gagged. Thankfully, Thorin tugged her from beneath the putrid body and as she let go of the arrow, the orc sank into the earth where she had been.
“Thank y—oh!” The breath rushed from her body as Thorin swept her up and basically threw her across his shoulders, then took off at a run. With each pounding footfall, fire tore through her. Hot tears stung her eyes. Her belly churned like mad, even worse than it had when the orc collapsed on her. This pain was just as hot as the one that followed being struck by an arrow. Just hot, and almost as strong, and it was only through sheer will that she kept her head clear and her eyes open.
A horn sounded and when she lifted her head to look, Nina saw the Mirkwood elves, led by Tauriel, come thundering out of the woods. As they crossed back into the woodland realm, Thorin slowed down and Nina managed to grit, “I think I can walk.”
Somewhat out of breath, Thorin set her gingerly on her feet and the moment her right foot touched earth, the muscle in her upper thigh shrieked in protest and a hot sting scalded its way from her hip to her knee, which buckled once more.
Fortunately, Thorin caught her before she hit the ground, easing his arm about her waist. “Lean against me.”
“Thorin!” Dwalin hurried toward them. “Are ye injured?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. Nina was not so lucky.”
Although she expected it, Dwalin’s look of concern faded. “She looks fine to me.”
“Looks fine?” Thorin replied dryly. “She’s leaving a blood trail.”
She thought he was being sarcastic but when she looked down, she saw she was doing just that. In her wake, she’d left a trail of blood droplets as if she thought she’d need them to find her way out. That made her dizzy and she sagged against Thorin, muttered, “I don’t feel so good…”
“We’re almost there,” he told her. “Can you make it?”
Bells clanged about inside her head, her thoughts sluggish and thick and slow. Words refused to form, so she shook her head and gave into the need to close her eyes. 
Her belly whooshed as he easily swung her into his arms once more. “Hold on to me.”
She managed to drape her arms about his neck, rested her head against his shoulder, and once more let her eyes close. “Where are we going?”
“Grainne is the Mirkwood healer. That’s where we’re going.”
“Another elven healer?”
“Before much longer, you’ll be an expert on them.”
“Wonderful.”
A low rumble shook her and she forced her heavy-lidded eyes open as she said, “Are you laughing at me?”
“No. Not at you. At your tone.”
“I’m glad I amuse you.”
The throb in her leg ebbed and flowed with her heartbeat and she fought to ignore it as he brought her down past the throne room, into the depths of Mirkwood, and an unfamiliar voice said, “What have we here?”
“I found myself the path of a sword,” Nina said, sucking in a sharp breath as Thorin set her down on the high, narrow bed in the infirmary.
Like every other elf Nina had ever seen, Grainne was tall and slim and stunning, with high cheekbones, almond-shaped blue eyes, and long, sleek hair the color of honey, pulled away from her face. She did not smile as she looked from her to Thorin. “You’ll have to leave now.”
Nina bit down on her bottom lip, both from the wave of pain that swept through her and the blush once more more deepening against Thorin’s skin. He cleared his throat. “Of course. I need to speak with Thranduíl as it is anyway.”
“I’ll be fine,” Nina told him, managing to hold back her grin. “Just don’t leave without me.”
“Of course not.”
The healer waited for Thorin to leave, then helped Nina carefully strip off her trousers. Her stomach clenched sharply at the ugly wound. Most blade cuts were clean, but the blade that hit her was not finely honed, but almost serrated, judging by the jagged edges it left behind. She gritted her teeth, holding back her cry as Grainne carefully cleaned every last bit of debris from the wound, flushed it to be certain, and then just as carefully stitched the edges together.
A cold sweat prickled down along her spine, between her breasts, and her fingernails left half-moon imprints in her palms when Nina finally relaxed and unclenched her fists. Grainne offered up a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry to have hurt you, Miss Nina, but I must tell you, you are far more stoic than any elf I’ve ever had to sew before. They howl like demons.”
Swallowing hard against the hint of nausea rising in her throat, Nina managed a slight smile back. “Thank you. I think.”
“Keep the wound dry if at all possible and keep an eye out for any sign of infection. Redness, swelling, weeping, red streaks, that sort of thing. If you see any of those, some and see me at once.”
“I will.” Nina gingerly slid into her trousers and winced as she put weight on her injured leg. “How long will it be sore for?”
“A few days at least. It should resolve a bit more each day. Just baby it as much as possible.”
“I will.”
“I’m sure my lord Thranduíl will allow you to remain here a few days longer.”
“We shall see. If not, I’ll be limping my way to Erebor with the others.” Nina offered this over her shoulder as she moved to the door. “But I do thank you for your efforts.”
“Of course.”
Nina limped her way out of the infirmary to find Thorin pacing in the walkway just beyond. “Why are you still here?”
He jumped, whipping about to face her. “Are you supposed to be up and walking on that leg?”
“I’m supposed to favor it, but otherwise, it’s fine.” She limped over to him, surprised to see the relief spread across his face. “Were you worried about me?”
“Not so much worried, no.” He shook his head. “Just a bit concerned, is all.”
She offered up a long look, resisting the urge to chuckle. “That’s worry, Thorin.”
For a moment, she thought he was about to argue it, but then, he smiled. “Very well. You have me there, Nina. Yes, I was worried. Orc blades can inflict far worse injuries than ordinary blades if one is not careful.”
“Grainne cleaned it out, trust me. I can still feel it and it isn’t a pleasant thing at all.” 
“Here, allow me to help you, then.”
Before she could protest, he eased an arm about her waist, and walked her toward the woven vine staircase. “Can you manage the stairs?”
“I think so.” She looked up, swallowing hard at how steep that staircase appeared. How had he carried her down them with seemingly no effort? She knew dwarves were strong, but those steps would have tried the strongest of legs.
“I can carry you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
He stopped and turned to her. “I don’t mind, you know.”
“I’m sure you don’t. But, you carried me down, you needn’t carry me up as well.”
He smiled. “You weigh practically nothing, Nina. It was not difficult.”
“Even so.”
“You said you’re to favor it.”
“I know, but I’ll be fine.” She carefully stepped back and caught the banister with one hand. 
But as she tried to take the step, a hot burst of pain exploded within her thigh and she stumbled back as she sucked in a hard breath. 
He caught her before she could fall, and easily swung her up into his arms once more. “Let me help you.”
She didn't argue, but nodded and reached down to gingerly rub over the bandage on her thigh. “Thank you.”
As easily as he’d carried her down, he carried her back up and on the main level, when he set her carefully on her feet, he said, “See? Hardly an issue.”
“I know, but—“ She looked up. “I’m supposed to be helping you, not the other way around.”
“You were injured once more in my defense.”
“I need to learn to move more quickly.” 
“You do not.”
She glanced down at his huge hands still resting on her hips, then looked back up at him. “You can let go of me now, Thorin.”
“I can, of course. But I’d really rather not,” he murmured. “Unless, of course, you wish me to.”
Nina gazed up at him, and although her heart was heavy with what she knew she had to confess, she wasn't quite ready to ruin things just yet. Warmth sank into her from his hands, and his eyes grew soft as they held her. Her heart sped up at the way his blue eyes darkened to almost sapphire.
Without looking away, she shook her head. “You don’t have to just yet.”
“Good.”
He bent to her, their lips meeting in a kiss so gentle, she forgot about her pain for a moment. Although she wasn’t an expert at kissing by any means, Thorin knew what he was doing. He might have claimed to have as little experience as she did, but she wasn't at all certain she believed him. His lips moved so softly against hers, that his kiss was truly a caress, and when those lips parted… 
She shivered.
He drew back, a hint of a smile playing at his lips, and he pressed his forehead to hers, whispering, “We should get you back to your chambers.”
“I think that would be wise.” 
“Thorin?”
He drew back and turned. “What is it, Dwalin?”
“I beg yer pardon, of course. But Thranduíl would like a word with ye.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there in a moment. I said I would help Nina back to her chambers.”
Over Thorin’s shoulder, Nina saw Dwalin glare at his king’s back, and so she carefully pulled out of Thorin’s arms. “You should go. I’ll manage on my own.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am. Do not keep our host waiting. It’s rude.”
“He had me thrown into a dungeon cell,” Thorin replied even as he stepped away from her. “Making him wait a few minutes more is hardly comparable.”
“Even so, you should go.”
“Very well. And you go rest. I promise,” he offered up a smile, “we will not leave without you.”
“I know.” She limped away from him. “Go and see what His Highness wants. I’m going to lie down.”
“I will see you in a bit.”
“Of course.”
With that, he turned and strode off with Dwalin, while she sank against the railing. Her leg throbbed now, and all she wanted was to go and lie down, so she slowly limped back down to her chambers. 
“What are ye about, Thorin?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” Thorin growled as he and Dwalin made their way toward the throne room.
“Dinna be a fool where she is concerned. A pretty face is not worth losing yer life for.”
“Losing my life?” Thorin couldn't hold back his laugh. “That’s a bit dramatic, don't you think?”
“Ye know nothing about her. Nothing at all. And didn't ye just tell me this morning that ye complicated matters that needed no complicating?”
“I did, but…” Thorin looked over at him, shaking his head. “I cannot possibly put it into words and explain it. There is… she is… I…”
“Well, that certainly clears matters up.”
“I know, I sound like I’ve gone mad again, but I haven’t. It’s simply… I have never felt this before. And I don’t even know what it is, but I like it. I don't want it to fade, but there’s something…”
“Something?”
He nodded. “Something. And don’t ask me what, because I cannot possibly answer it. But know this, you needn’t worry. She poses no threat, Dwalin.”
Dwalin looked decidedly ill. “I do not need to hear why ye are so certain of this, ye know. I know what ye were doing, remember. Details are neither necessary nor welcome. But, she is a liability now.”
Thorin peered at Nina’s retreating figure over his shoulder. Her limp was far more pronounced now. “She is good at masking how serious it is. But we really should allow her some time to rest. It isn’t as if we’re on schedule, as we were the last time.”
“Some of us would just like to go home.”
Thorin offered him a long look. “So, go home then.”
“Ye know I’m not about to do that, so it’s fool’s talk.”
Thorin tried to ignore the irritation bubbling in his gut. No, Dwalin was not about to leave him in Mirkwood, no matter how safe it might be now. “It’s only a few days.”
“So ye hope.”
“Yes, so I hope.” He stepped around Dwalin. 
“Thorin, let’s let her rest and go on to Erebor without her. We’re almost there and we—” 
Thorin threw up a hand. “Stop. Enough. I know you’d don’t care for her, but I am not about to simply dump her off.”
“I don’t care one way or the other for her, yes. But more importantly, I dinna trust her. There’s something about her and don’t ask me what, for I can’t put my finger on it. But something tells me we should get away from her.”
“Something. But you cannot tell me what. You don’t trust her, yet she’s given no reason for us to not trust her.”
“She’s also given no reason for us to trust her.”
“If she meant to do harm to either of us, she’s had ample opportunity and yet, look,” Thorin made a grand sweeping gesture with both hands, “here we are, alive and well and in one whole piece.”
“Thorin—”
“We are finished here, so spare me any further lectures, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Thorin.”
“I mean it,” Thorin growled, resuming his stride away from Dwalin. “So enough already.”
“It will be enough when ye think with the right head and ye know ye aren’t right now.”
“I said, enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He didn't wait for Dwalin to reply, but continued on, his gut churning with irritation that was only slightly misplaced. He knew this was not what they needed at the moment, that a romantic entanglement of any kind was only going to cause trouble. And he also knew that Nina was in no condition to continue on with them. Especially with an orc pack between Mirkwood and the Long Lake, as he was certain still some remained. 
Although he couldn’t exactly fault Dwalin for his misgivings, he also had no desire to hear about them. Yes, they had only known Nina a short while and yes, it was possible she could cause either of them harm. But, if she could and she planned to, why hadn’t she? She’d had plenty of opportunity to do so. He’d lain asleep beside her for hours, giving her ample opportunity right there.
Yet, she did nothing.
But at the same time, Dwalin was not one to leap to conclusions, either. He thought everything through and did so with the utmost of care. If there something about Nina that troubled him, Thorin knew he would do well to at least entertain the notions. 
So why didn't he?
This was one of the very reasons why he tried to avoid romantic entanglements altogether. He had enough to worry about, without also having to contend with the worry that came with opening oneself up entirely to someone else. And he had not lied to her about the importance most dwarves placed upon physical relations. It absolutely was far more meaningful than just the pleasure one felt, as it created a bond between the couple, one that more often than not led to marriage.
Well, he wasn't there yet. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever be there, if a wife and children were part of Mahal’s plan for him. He didn't know.
But what he did know was that there was something between him and Nina. At least, there were the beginnings of something, or so he thought. 
At the entrance to the throne room, Thorin was stopped by an elf page. “My Lord Thranduíl asked that I bring you to the dungeon.”
A hint of apprehension fluttered through him. The last time he saw the eleven dungeon, it was because he’d been shoved into a cell. “Why?”
“An orc was taken prisoner,” the page explained as he gestured for Thorin to follow him and as they made their way along the walkway, he added, “and he told my lord something he thought you might be interested in knowing.”
���Something I might be interested in knowing?”
“Yes, Your Highness. It seems he knows something about the woman with whom you travel.”
Thorin’s gut kinked. “He knows Miss Carren?”
“Not exactly.” The page paused at a closed door, reaching for the handle. He tugged it open and stepped into the room. “My lord, King Thorin.”
“Thank you, Brannion.”
The elf bobbed his head, then took himself off, while Thorin, a sudden apprehension twisting his insides, stepped into the chamber.
Each orc was uglier and more foul than the last and the stench of one announced their presence long before any visual evidence did so. Still, Thorin paid little heed to the smell or the abomination of putrid evil that stared at him now, his movements checked by the gleaming blade Legolas held at the creature’s throat.
“What’s going on?” Thorin asked, looking from the orc to Legolas and then to Thranduíl.
“Tell her, filth,” Legolas said to the orc.
The orc just stared with dead black eyes that looked like river rocks set in their sockets. His grayish, decayed flesh gave his round head a misshapen appearance, like a gourd that had begun to rot and caved in on itself in places. 
Thranduíl sighed. “He claims to know your traveling companion. Miss Carren.”
A sour taste flooded Thorin’s mouth and breathing became harder to do. “How is that even possible?”
“Tell him,” Legolas growled through gritted teeth.
The orc flinched as the blade bit into his neck. “The price on your head remained in place,” he finally rasped, those beady eyes locking with Thorin’s. “And she sought to claim it.”
“How do you know?”
“She led us here. My master sent us after her. She would lead us to you, and we would kill the both of you.”
“That means nothing other than you—”
“She came to see him. Wanted half of the price up front, the fool, and my master laughed in her face. Told her to bring him your head and only then would the bounty be paid. She wasn't happy, but she agreed to the terms.”
Thorin felt sick. His stomach churned. His vision swam. But, all he said was, “You lie.”
“Ask her yourself, runt.” The orc let out a low, gurgling laugh. “You let yourself be fooled by her face and now, you will pay—”
A flash of silver and the orc’s body slumped to the floor, leaving Legolas holding a now-lifeless head, which he dropped with no little contempt.
Thorin looked up at Thranduíl. “He’s wrong. She fought alongside us against them. I know not where his information comes from, but he is wrong.”
“You should speak with Miss Carren. And let me know if you wish me to banish her.” 
“You’ll do no such thing,” Thorin growled. “Excuse me.”
He waited for no response, but spun about and stormed from the dungeon. The orc had to be lying. Because if not…
He didn't want to think about it.
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fizzyxcustard · 18 hours
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fizzyxcustard · 19 hours
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Lucas North.<3
Spooks8Ep7.My cropped screencaps,
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fizzyxcustard · 20 hours
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Lucas North ♥
My cropped screencap. Spooks 8Ep.7
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fizzyxcustard · 21 hours
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“Oh, shit !”
Spooks, 703
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Prizma art Vl
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Lucas North smiling appreciation
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Lucas North close-up appreciation post ❤ [part 11]
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Thorin Oakenshield Grabbing & saving people
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fizzyxcustard · 3 days
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I heard the internet wanted more Dís! 🐣
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