#(Dwarves have hard heads he was fine) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bookworm-with-coffee · 9 months

Text

Softly. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hillooo!! Let's switch up the angst today, lovelies with more Kili love!! As always, enjoy!!

Plot; When Kili is dying and can't rely on Tauriel, who then can he count on?

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; long fic, blood/injury, mature themes, coarse language, violence, unrequited love, angst, eventual fluff

________________________________________

Exhaustion burned like a sting through the muscles in your legs. Having travelled so far in the span of a day, the Company had made it from the stability provided by Beorn's home now to the depths of Mirkwood where the days seemed timeless and dark. Your own footsteps rang like a drum in your ears, the grip that an Elven soldier had on you was unyeilding.

Completely stripped of your outer layers and weaponry, you felt unbelievably helpless as you were marched along the winding bridges to perhaps a worser fate than death. You all didn't know.

"Tolo hí", a cocky Elf unwisely shoved Thorin towards a staircase, the King matching the taller male's glare. You angrily tried to shrug yourself from the grip of the soldier holding you, attempting to stick up for your Company's leader. The Dwarves shared your sentiment, Thorin waving all of you down before the fights could begin. You all weren't exactly in a position to stir trouble, after all. Things had to remain peaceful for good negotiations.

"Don't struggle. I will be back", he assured you all, his ocean gaze burning with surity before he ascended the steps to the throne room. The Elves forced you all onwards, your path leading you further down into the bowels of the city; the dungeons. The leader Legolas, he'd been named; scrutinized you with his harsh gaze, undoubtedly noting how you stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others of this Company. One human female and thirteen male Dwarves certainly made for an interesting travelling circus, in his eyes. Yet, you knew you were missing one more member of your group.

Bofur noticed Bilbo's disappearance first, always seeming to keep track of your whereabouts as much as the missing Hobbit's. You all declined to mention your lost fifteenth member of the Company, trying to avoid making it known that you were seeking him out hopefully. Some part of your heart screamed to you that he was already here, that he hadn't abandoned you all. He would rescue you all soon, you were sure of it.

The Elves finally made their stop, the soldier that held you releasing the hard hold he had on your arm. You were sure you would have bruising later. Your captors began to lead your group in pairs or singles up and down stairs, completely separating you all. Balin turned to you, attempting to offer you assurance with a steady smile and a glance that told you, everything will be fine. You hoped so as you were finally lead away from the older Dwarf with Bofur. Worry flashed in Fili and Kili's eyes as you ascended stairs to your right with your cellmate, the brothers both having some level of protectiveness over you.

The cells were small with no chairs or any form of comfort, only the cold floor to sit on. While trudging forwards, you were suddenly shoved into the small room behind Bofur, crashing into him and hitting the floor. "Oh, shit!", you hissed, rubbing at your head and helping him to his feet.

"Are ye alright, Love?", he asked, wholeheartedly unconcerned with himself. His hand moved your own to check for any blood or wounds that the fall may have given you, finally sighing in relief. "You'll be fine". Patting your shoulder, he moved past you to look through the bars of the now locked door. He gripped the bars, much like the others had started doing. All of the Dwarves, save for Balin, kicked and threw themselves desperately at the bars in their attempt to dent or break them. The metal was completely reinforced, the Dwarves risking harm to themselves more than their cell bars.

"It's no use!", Balin shouted. "This is no Orc prison. These are the dungeons of the Woodland Realm!". Dejected, everyone dropped to the floor, inclusive of yourself. Balin was right. There was no escaping unless Thorin could strike a deal with the Elven King, Thranduil. An agitated roar left Dwalin's throat, punching the bars before throwing himself down as well. You would all have to sit this out and wait.

Turning your head to your right, you gazed down at the other cells. Kili's cell with Fili's above his, Ori and Dori together to his left, Balin to his right. Nori was probably further up from Kili. Dwalin's cell was behind yours, meaning Gloin and Oin were probably in the cell beneath your own. Bifur had been locked with Bombur in the cell by the staircase you'd climbed. They were the first to be locked up.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you found your gaze landing on Kili. He was your closest friend and the one you worried for the most. This quest had been costing on you both, mentally and physically so. But, you'd found comfort in each other.

On the days when it rained, the young Prince was always there to tell a joke that reminded you of sunshine. When you were cold, he would offer you his strong and heated arms. Kili had already saved your life numerous times, always throwing himself in harm's way just to protect you.

In the late hours of the night, you'd offer solace to the homesick Prince who often dreamed of his mother and home in the Blue Mountains. It was in these quiet hours when he was unafraid to open himself to you. Sometimes you'd spar and train with him to give him relief from his restlessness, participate in pranks or tell him stories of your homeland if he was down. Your bedroll was always beside his leaving the Company to speculate on your relationship with Kili.

There was nothing to tell, to your disappointment. Kili had admitted no feelings for you and vice versa. Some part of you feared losing the fierce friendship and bond with him, should he know the truth and not feel the same. Your feelings for the Dwarf were obvious to everyone, even to Fili, who had become like a protective older brother to you. Yet, they were not obvious to the one who held your affections.

Your head turned to find Bofur's gaze already on you, an amused grin splayed on his expression. He sat with his back against the opposite wall, his brows risen suggestively. "What?", you sputtered, feigning innocence.

"Am I supposed t' act like I don't know who yer' starin' at or what?". He laughed softly, folding his arms with a shake of his head. A flush of heat hit your cheeks in embarrassment. "You've got it bad, Love".

"Got what?".

"The love bug", he shrugged. "You're in love–".

"Don't say it any louder!", you hissed, a few giggles escaping the Dwarf.

"I don't know how long it's been since I first noticed it, but I've known for a long time now", he confessed, your head dipping in further abashment. "And there's no shame in it". Bofur nudged your leg with his foot, offering you a kind smile when your eyes lifted again to meet his own.

"Does Thorin know?".

"He'd have t' be deaf, blind and stupid not t', Love", Bofur guffawed.

"Oh dear", you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

"Fili knows". Your eyes widened in shock, peeking through the splits in your fingers at the dark haired Dwarf. Thinking it best to be honest, he continued, "In fact, I don't think there's a soul amongst us, save for Kili himself, that doesn't know about this. Sorry, Lass".

"And you thought of telling me when??", you gaped.

"When Dwalin would finally be at snapping point at yer lovesick bantering", he laughed. "Which surprisingly, he hasn't reached yet". You groaned again in your shame, too embarrassed to show your face. " 'Ey". He nudged your leg again. "Don't be ashamed. Dwalin is a patient Dwarf, as are we all. We understand". Your calf being the only thing he could grip from where he sat, Bofur began to caress it to try and soothe you. "Jus' be thankful yer' not sharing yer cell with Dwalin right now".

Your hands fell from your face whilst you giggled, the both of you finding humour in his additional statement. "I'm in the next cell, not deaf, Bofur", a grumble followed quietly.

"Aye. Noted. Sorry!", he called back softly, the both of you lapsing again into a short fit of shared laughter. You realized it was his aim all along. With gratitude shining in your gaze, you inclined your head to your cellmate.

"Thanks, Bofur". Tipping his hat, he grinned with immeasurable mirth,

"Yer' always much welcome, Lass".

The wait for Thorin's return began. Or to be rescued by Bilbo, whichever first. Hours, perhaps even days were passing. You didn't know. The dungeons of the Woodland Realm fell silent for some time, your eyes coming to close. Cheerful music and voices softly began to pour down from the upper levels, almost lulling you asleep with its beauty. Your stomach growled painfully, reminding you that you hadn't eaten since Beorn's. Footsteps descending from the throne room caught your immediate attention, however. Your brows rose, peering from the bars of your prison cell as the familiar figure of the redheaded Captain of the Guard, Tauriel made her way past your cell before travelling downward. Patrolling. Kili had occupied himself with something and it was clear that the pointy-eared bitch couldn't keep her nose out of his business.

"The stone in your hand", she whispered sternly. "What is it?". Was nothing sacred?? Could he not have something in his possession??

Your chest puffed out, ready to tell her to leave and mind her business when Kili finally replied, "It is a talisman". This caught your curiosity as well as Tauriel's. "A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a Dwarf read the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed! ", he spat, forcing her to gaze at the dark object. Good job, Kili. You relished in her shock, relaxing as she finally seemed to be leaving. "Or not". Your mouth fell open. What was he doing?? She was your enemy! Tauriel backtracked her steps, returning to Kili's cell. "Depending on whether or not you believe in that kind of thing, it's just a token", he shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. It seemed as if Tauriel was smiling as well. "A rune stone. My mother gave it to me so that I'd remember my promise".

"What promise?".

"That I will come back to her", Kili smiled, your heart burning with envy at the kindness he shared with her. Never in all the nights you'd spent in his company, had the Princeling shared this special rune stone with you, nor its backstory. Not that it was anyone's business, of course. But, you now found yourself wishing that he had shared something this intimate and unique with you. "She worries. She thinks I'm wreckless", he continued with a sigh.

"And are you?", Tauriel failed to fight her smile, clearly enjoying her time with the Prince.

"Nah". When throwing the stone again, however, it slipped from his grip. It skidded out of his cell and under her boot. You'd tensed, worried that it would've fallen into the nearby chasm. Now it was in her possession and she'd confiscate it for sure. Her nimble fingers held it into the dim light, looking over the intricate runes that covered the small stone. Kili had stood, worrying over the stone the way you had. "It's quite the party you're having up there", he mused, trying to draw her attention from the stone.

"It is Mereth en-Gilith", she replied. "The Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars".

"I always thought it is a cold light, so remote and far away", he confessed. Incredulously, she whispered,

"It is memory! Precious and pure!". Her turquoise eyes fell to the dark stone occupying her palm. "Like that promise". Reaching it forwards, she allowed Kili to take it back. "I have walked there sometimes", she added, gathering his undivided attention. "Above the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light of forever fill the air".

Looking down at the Prince, he seemed effortlessly taken by her. His hazel orbs were glittering in awe, his lips parted in a state of wonder. And could he be blamed?? Tauriel had pure, creamy skin, unblemished and ageless with the beauty of the Elves. Long, thick tresses and a graceful air about her. She's a far more skilled warrior than yourself, which Kili also seemed to admire.

"I saw a Fire Moon once". Another story he'd failed to share with you, intriguing the Elf in his presence further. His smile grew as he leant against the bars. "It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge! Red and gold it was as it filled the sky". Tauriel sat by the stairs of Kili's cell, intently listening to his story the way you would have. "We were an escort for some merchants of Ered Luin. They were trading in silverware for furs. We took the green way south, keeping the mountains to our left. And there up ahead, this huge Fire Moon lighting our path. I wish I could show you".

Some part of you knew and berated you for not seeing this coming. Perhaps it was blissful ignorance? Or misplaced complacency in your heart?? Kili always had a predisposition of curiosity towards the Elves, having shamelessly flirted with one of them in Rivendell and admitting, accidentally to his humiliation, that he found one of their males attractive. So, what chance did you stand against them?? None.

Dejectedly, your head hit the rough wall behind you, their shared laughter and conversations bitterly reminding you that you never did stand a chance to begin with. It was clear that your feelings for the Prince weren't returned. Only now was it plain for you to see. Hating the way jealousy's unkind flames wreaked havoc within your mind, tears began to burn in your eyes without forgiveness. With a sigh, your face suddenly crumpled and your shoulders shook, sobs wracking your body. Bofur heard your silent sniffles, being the light sleeper that he was. "Hey!", his voice cooed to you softly, instantly waking from his daze. "What's goin' on??". Your throat felt tight, your heart aching painfully within your chest. Desperately, you wiped at your eyes, the kind Dwarf moving to sit on your left. He needed only to look through the cage bars to realise what ailed you. His gaze softened, surprised at this revelation. However, it didn't stop his warm arms from circling you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, safe from the negativities of the world. Bofur's large hands worked comforting caresses on your back and shoulders. "There, there now", he hushed you. "There, there. I've got ye".

"It hurts, Bofur", you wept. Part of his heart broke hearing those words, knowing that no joke he could offer you now would make it better. He felt useless.

"I know", he whispered. "I know it hurts". Bofur's heated arms tightened their embrace, some part of him hoping that they would help remove the pain. "He didn't know how ye felt for him. And as far as I'm concerned,—", he wiped at your face. "— he's an idiot for not bein' in love with ye instead of that daft Elf maid". You chuckled bitterly,

"She's hardly daft. She's beautiful".

"Perhaps on the outside", he conceded. "But, if Kili can't see the beauty that's both outside and within yerself, don't waste time pursuing the heart that clearly isn't yours". You knew what he was implying and the thought of disregarding your feelings for the Prince horrified you.

"It's not some simple fixation, Bofur! I love him!", you sighed hopelessly. "It's not easy to let go of someone you–". He nodded in understanding. You felt connected so deeply with Kili, you were sure that the concept of soulmates existed. You'd never felt anything like this before. And now, every part of you felt like that connection was being torn away. It was agony.

"Whatever ye decide, I only hope as yer friend that ye choose your happiness above all else. Even if it's hard". You nodded. "I'm here for ye, Lass. We all are, remember that".

Sleep eventually took you within Bofur's embrace, the kind Dwarf refusing to let you go. Despite no romantic attraction to you, he still valued your happiness and everyone else's. You were exhausted, in desperate need of food and sleep. Even if it was a tad of rest, he'd still help you get it with a bit of comfort.

The wait to be rescued continued for some hours thereafter, Tauriel finally leaving to join the festivities above. Marching footsteps thundered through the halls, startling you awake. Thorin was back, at last. Alive and unscathed to your relief.

"Did he offer you a deal?", Balin's voice called out, all of you eager to listen.

"He did", Thorin replied, his voice growing to a yell that echoed through the very heart of the Woodland Realm. "I told him he can go ishkh khakfe andu null!! Him and all his kin!!". The white haired Dwarf sighed through his nostrils in exasperation, shaking his head.

"Well, that's that, then", he huffed. "That deal was our only hope".

"Not our only hope", the King shot back, his eyes glimmering with the same hopes in all your hearts. He too had faith Bilbo would return.

The Hobbit wasn't too far away, having already infiltrated the kingdom using the Ring that not one of you knew about. It had saved him from the Goblins and he'd use it to save you all too. Bilbo's steps were invisible and silent when he descended into the bowels of Mirkwood. He'd cautiously followed the Elf that bore the prison keys, marking his patrols. The wine cellar was where most of the guards seemed to be. They spoke of the festivities above, the keeper of the keys not willing to forsake his duties. "They're locked up!", the others insisted, snatching the keys to hang them on a hook. "Where can they go?". Bilbo smiled. If only they knew..

"I'll wager the sun is on the rise", Bofur ground out beside you. "Must be nearly dawn".

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?", Ori's faint sigh echoed. Your heart sank for the Company. You'd been enlisted to help them, but there was naught left that even you could do for them now. Fili stomped in frustration, throwing himself on the floor.

"Not locked in here, you're not", the familiar voice of Bilbo rang out. You felt as if you'd waited forever to hear those words, relieved to see your friend alive.

"Bilbo!", you gasped, clawing at the bars with a grin.

"Bilbo!!", the others began to shout happily, collectively overjoyed to see the Hobbit as well.

"Shh!! There are guards nearby!!", he hissed, starting with Thorin and Balin's cells, working his way upwards. He worked his way along with Fili, Ori and Dori, Oin and Gloin, Kili, followed by Bifur and Bombur.

Finally, he reached your cage. Once the door swung open, the Hobbit was in your arms, happily embracing you back. "I'm so glad you're alright!", you laughed ecstatically.

"Same with you!", he assured, breaking from you with a grin to continue on his way to let out Dwalin and Nori. Bofur lead you down the steps, Kili seemingly waiting for you by the bottom, relieved to see you again. The sentiment wasn't shared. A flush of resentment had filled your heart, your brows creasing at the Prince.

"Are you alright, (Y/n)?". His question fell on deaf ears. Noting your short-sleeved tunic, he continued, "You're looking cold. Here, I'll–".

"Just leave me alone", your words were a sharp grumble, your eyes unusually apathetic. You moved past the Prince as if he were nothing. Hurt and confusion flashed through Kili's eyes whilst he watched your retreating figure, his hand slowly dropping to his side.

Various members of the Company, noteably Thorin, Balin and Fili; onlooked in shared confusion at your uncharacteristic behaviour. Had something happened??

Dwalin clapped Kili's shoulder in passing, drawing the Princeling back to focus. He quickly followed his gathering kin at the top of a stairwell with varying routes. "Not that way!", Bilbo's call was still a whisper, leading you all onto one of the others that lead downwards instead. "Down here! Follow me!!".

Freedom, you thought. You all followed close behind the Hobbit, confident in his plan of escape. Strangely, he seemed to know where he was going. Or so you thought until you reached what looked to be a wine cellar. The sounds of snores reached your ears as you descended the last steps to your destination. A group of intoxicated Elves were resting their heads on a table, completely ignoring their guard duties. Having followed Bilbo down first, Kili growled, "I don't believe this– we're in the cellars!!". Bofur followed after,

"Yer' supposed t' be leadin' us out, not further in!!".

"I know what I'm doing—", Bilbo tried to respond, Bofur cutting in,

"Shh!!", holding a finger over his mouth. The Dwarves all filed in ahead of you, Dori and Dwalin flanking you protectively out of instinct. From where he stood with his brother, Kili eyed you with a pensive gaze, his strong brows knitted together in concern.

"Everyone! Quickly! Climb into the barrels now!", Bilbo's orders were hushed, his eyes desperate. He had a plan. That much you could tell.

"Are you mad?!", Dwalin hissed. "They'll find us!!".

"No, they won't! They won't! Please, please, you must trust me!". Following his words, you watched then as Bilbo turned to Thorin with a pleading gaze.

"Do as he says", the King whispered. Instantly, everyone began to climb into the barrels, even Thorin himself. Only, there were two problems. One, there weren't enough barrels for you to join the Dwarves. Two, you would surely be too big for a barrel. Thirteen concerned sets of eyes caught onto that situation rather quickly, various whispers of,

"What about (Y/n)?", "She needs somewhere to hide too!!", "Where can she go??", filling the room.

"Calm down!", the burglar begged quietly. "Let me think!!".

"No time!", you insisted. "I'll have to go without". Whispers of protest rang out from the Dwarves, not satisfied with your situation.

"For the love of Mahal, (Y/n)! Don't be a fool!", Fili chided.

"Climb in my barrel?", Kili offered hesitantly, your brief harshness towards him being forgotten in his concern for your safety. Bofur's head snapped towards him with an expression that read, 'Really?? After the damage you've done?'.

"I will not risk your safety", Thorin interluded, your gaze falling to the leader you respected so much. "There's no time. Climb in with Kili". Your previous resentment towards the younger Prince was already gone. And despite your hurting heart, all you truly wanted for Kili now was for him to be happy, even if it was without you.

Climbing up, you slipped quickly into the warm alcove of the Princeling's barrel. It was a tight squeeze, but you managed to fit everything under your shoulders into it. "Are you comfortable?", Kili's voice was a gentle calm, his hot breaths fanning over your face.

"I'm fine", you matched his hushed tone, your body slowly warming in the close proximity you shared. Little did you know, you'd be needing it..

Now satisfied with your situation, the Dwarves all stuck their heads out. "What do we do now?", Bofur asked.

"Hold your breath", was the only response you received from the Hobbit before he pulled a wooden lever.

"Hold our breath??", Bofur sputtered. You all then realised what was coming. The ground tilted up, gravity seeming to change for you and the Dwarves. A set of strong arms held you in the form of a brace as the barrel you were in spindled and became weightless. Everyone cried out, falling for what felt like an eternity.

Water suddenly submerged you all, cold and biting against your skin. Once hitting the surface, you gasped for air as every limb fell into a state of shock. "Breathe", Kili's instructions barely registered, your nose burning and head buzzing. He gazed up at you, attempting to warm your face and arms with his heated hands.

"Where's Bilbo?", Bofur's head bounced from the water. Despite the chattering of your teeth, you smiled amusedly,

"He forgot himself". Thorin followed in your amusement with a smile of his own,

"Give him a moment". A moment was all the Hobbit needed, falling stiffly with a scream into the waters by Nori's barrel. The tri-haired Dwarf hauled Bilbo against his barrel, getting him to hold on for the journey ahead. "Well done, Master Baggins", the King commended proudly. It was much deserved. Still being the humble burglar he was, Bilbo waved the act off as if it was nothing. Thorin began to motion everyone along. "Come on! Let's go!".

The barrel you shared with Kili had become uncomfortable as it tipped forwards, your bodies squishing together. In any other instance, you'd crave this contact. Yet now, it was painful for more than one reason. Both of you used an arm each, dipping them into the numbingly cold water to row your barrels along. Sunlight poured in from the end of the cave's tunnel, the water seeming to give you speed in its new flow. You soon realised why. "Hold on!", you shrieked, the barrel cascading forwards into ferocious rapids. The current carried you all forwards and down the river effortlessly, the coldness having been briefly forgotten in your adrenaline. The Company's escape was brilliantly carried out. All you needed to do was leave Mirkwood to the lands beyond. It seemed so simple until a horn's cry pierced the air. You'd all been caught!

Fear leapt into your throat whilst you all rounded a corner, thrown forwards again to see Elven soldiers closing the gates of the river. "NO!!", Thorin exclaimed, his barrel being the first to reach the now closed door before you all followed after. Freedom seemed more further away now than it had ever been. And it was only going to get worse. Orcs had now made their appearance, slaughtering the Elves that were preventing your escape.

"Watch out!!", Bofur shouted. "There's Orcs!!". Corpses of both Elvenkind and Orc fell into the waters, all of them battling furiously amongst themselves. Kili had forced you to crouch uncomfortably, your legs burning at the tightness of the squeeze. He was aiming to protect you from the flying arrows and falling bodies, bracing you. His hazel eyes travelled to your own, clouded with fear. You'd never seen him so afraid, your hand subconsciously reaching for his.

"Slay them all!!", a foul voice ordered in the words of Black Speech. This was not Azog's voice, but one just as hideous. You decided to release yourself from the brace, standing straight with Kili to fight the Orcs that leapt into the water. Your heart raced, pounding within the confines of your chest. You all needed to get out of here. There had to be a way out. And that's when it came to you. The lever! You climbed out of the barrel, Kili shouting your name in protest whilst you waded in the freezing waters to the stairs of the wall. The sunkissed concrete instantly warmed your numb limbs whilst you clambered up the steps. It was so relieving to feel the warmth beneath your palms, that you dreaded eventually having to go back into the freezing waters below.

You dodged a blade slicing down towards you, rolling to the side and onto your back. Darting your foot upwards at the Orc who had tried to end you, it fell from the wall and to the forests below. Scrambling to your feet, you raced forwards across the wall. "Kili!!", Dwalin shouted, your head snapping in the direction of the call. The Prince had followed you onto the wall, catching the blade that Dwalin had tossed him. He used it to slay the Orc that had tried to pursue you to the lever. You hadn't realised either the creature or Kili's presence, grateful that he'd flanked your back. Fili always kept one eye on his brother, even when they weren't side by side. He threw blades into the Orcs that tried to overpower Kili in his attempts to protect you. Bolg had seen your motives of escape, noting that you had no weapons or the like. He had to stop you now if he ever wished to end Thorin and his kin here. Kili saw the hideous Orc arming his bow, his eyes blowing wide in horror as you fought your way through the carnage, unaware of the threat. His feet hit the ground in a dead sprint, slicing through the Orcs in his path like butter.

"(Y/n)!!", his throat burned with his scream. His heartbeat thundered in his ears deafeningly, finally catching your steps. The arrow flew, hitting flesh. You'd fallen to the floor with a yell, Kili crashing on top of you with a shout of his own. Your back ached from the impact, Kili's palms stinging from grazing the concrete.

"Kili??", you breathed, your brows furrowing in concern and confusion at his actions. Why had he stopped you?? The Prince's expression of shock fell suddenly into a pained grimace, your eyes drifting downwards to see the obscenely large arrow that had impaled his knee. "Kili!", your panicked cry left your throat raw. Bolg grinned in a sense of victory, having hit at least one target. Fili's head snapped upwards at your scream, spotting his brother's ailments with terror,

"Kili!!". The young Prince ground out a yell between his teeth, feeling the stinging sensation of blood dripping from the malicious wound. The sensation was unlike any pain he'd felt before, burning within his blood like a disease. What had he been pierced with?? He suddenly fell back with a scream, your figure quickly entering his vision. Kili's brows creased, his eyes fixed on you whilst he panted erratic breaths. His hand grasped the one you'd offered him with an almost painful grip, his eyes suddenly darting to his right. Tauriel broke through the woods, slashing and firing arrows with a graceful precision. "Kill her!!", Bolg shrieked. "Kill the She-Elf!!".

Kili's lips had parted, entirely enamoured by her presence. Not allowing your resentment to cloud your judgement, your hand broke from the Princeling's grip, hurrying to instead pull the lever down for the Company to escape. "We need to get out of here!", you yelled, Kili nodding in agreement. Without thinking, he slid forwards, his legs dangling above the barrel you'd shared. Both you and Fili saw this as a bad idea.

"Kili!!", Fili exclaimed.

"Wait!! I'll remove it!!—", Kili's cry of agony cut you off as he slid into the barrel, the arrow snapping painfully from his leg.

"Shit!", you cursed, leaping into the freezing waters without a thought, clinging to the barrel that Kili was in. Alike to Bilbo, you'd have to hold on externally. And it would be no easy feat. The rapids bashed at your face constantly, submerging you in its chaotic stream as it went. You were gasping for air whenever you could manage it, the water painfully blurring your vision and disorienting you. The grip you had on Kili's barrel was starting to wane, his hands gripping onto your arms. The water settled eventually from rapids to a speedy and winding current, no longer depriving you of sight and air.

From your view in the river, you'd spied Fili, Dwalin and Thorin using the Orcs' weapons against them, lopping down the branches they stood on and bashing the ones that tried to attack them from the banks of the river's flow. Legolas had joined the fight, using every resource in his surroundings, inclusive of the Dwarves' heads as he leapt from one side of the water to the other. In any other situation, you would've laughed at the expressions of Dwalin and Dori as they both were stepped on first, followed by the others who didn't seem to enjoy it either. The blonde Elf used the sword that had belonged to Thorin. Orcrist. It seemed wrong in the hands of Legolas, but he used it to a valuable advantage against your shared enemies. Thorin had even graciously covered for the Elf whilst he fought, ensuring no untimely demise met him. It was more than he deserved for the way he treated you all, yet you couldn't help that Thranduil would see it as a token of friendship at some eventuality. For now, you all had gotten away. The Elves had given up their pursuit of you to instead drive out the Orcs, a bigger threat. The Orcs still were on the hunt for you all, but it would take some time for them to catch up.

The river slowed, all of you able to clamber from the barrels and onto the rocky shores of the land once more. Your legs shook when you finally stood on them again after your large dose of adrenaline and cold. Stumbling forwards, you couldn't feel your hands, now so cold that they were stinging in the fingertips. The cool air blowing from the mountains nearby had goosebumps rising in every pore of your skin, your teeth chattering with the damp cold that enveloped you. However, your gaze focused on only one person, a trail of red water following behind him as he limped onto dry land to sit on a boulder for support. Concern, fear and anger rippled through every ounce of your blood like a wildfire, helping you forget the cold. You marched towards Kili, his face screwed in pain as he tried to wipe his wound clean. Bofur had stood near him, his eyes lit with the same concern as yours. Kili had spied his gaze first. "I'm fine", he snapped. "It's nothing". You wordlessly knelt by him, attempting to inspect the wound when he noticed you and swatted you away. "Don't". His harsh tone caught you offguard, your brows raising in challenge. "I'll be fine". Despite his confidence in saying it, not even he had full belief that his words were the truth.

"Let me see it", your voice was a terrifying calm, your gaze showing the emotions simmering beneath the surface. Your eyes met the Prince's in a silent battle of wits, his brows creased in an anger to combat your own.

"I said it was nothing—". Your hand pried his away from the wound, feeling the nausea beginning to creep up. The wound was deep, perhaps to the bone, and was bleeding openly. Bruising had already strangely appeared around the cut and it seemed horribly inflamed for a simple arrow wound. Kili spied your eyes brimming with tears, his blood running cold with remorse.

"Kili", you sighed beneath your breath.

"I've had worse. Really—", he tried gently, your head shaking.

"You need a healer. You need proper medical help".

"(Y/n), it's just a little cut!", he downplayed it with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Stop being so overdramatic!".

"You want me to stop being concerned for you?? Then maybe stop endangering yourself for once!!", your words shattered the air, shocking everyone in the Company. Kili's eyes flickered sadly from your own. "Better that the arrow really had hit me instead of you!". Anger flashed in the Princeling's gaze.

"Oh really? And why is that??".

"It would've been better than listening to your bullshit", you huffed, storming away from the stubborn Prince. Kili's head slumped, his face screwed up in a glower. Dismissing the tone you'd taken with his nephew, Thorin had established that you were all to leave promptly after Kili's wound was to be bound, Fili taking it upon himself to tend to his brother's leg.

"She's angry with me", Kili mumbled beneath his breath, his hazel eyes lingering where you sat with Ori. Fili almost laughed, his amusement twitching his smile.

"She is", he agreed, squeezing out the blooded cloth he was using for the wound. Ocean orbs flickered up to his brother's melancholy expression. "It's what caring for a person entails, Kee".

"She's been different to me. Distanced", the younger Prince continued with a sigh. "She does not look at me the same. Mirkwood has changed her".

"Maybe", Dwalin mused, catching onto the conversation. "Or perhaps she saw y' gettin' friendly with that Elf maid?". Kili's brows furrowed in confusion, turning his gaze to the older Dwarf.

"Why would that bother her??". Shrugging, Dwalin responded,

"If y' don't know by now, ye never will, Laddie". Know what? , Kili's mind echoed, his eyes closing from exasperation. He had not the energy to ask. The Prince only hoped that you'd be willing to talk to him again as you once did. Whenever that may be.

"I'm absolutely drenched", Ori groaned in irritation, pouring the water from his boot.

"Think about me. I'm human. Not a short, walking furnace like yourself". The younger Dwarf spared a laugh despite his misery. Sensing a pair of eyes on your back, you turned to find a man standing on the hill above. His bow was drawn, aimed for you and Ori. Instantly, you covered the smaller Dwarf with yourself, Dwalin leaping down from where he stood to protect you. The older Dwarf held a large branch for a makeshift weapon and shield, baring his teeth like an animal defending its young. The Company became highly strung, Kili standing to his feet without a care. The stranger fired an arrow at Dwalin's branch, already anticipating the Princeling's next move and firing an arrow at him as well. The second arrow bounced from the stone Kili had attempted to throw, the Prince's eyes wide in surprise.

"Do it again and you're dead", the man spat, his resolve showing in the threatening tone of his voice. He had armed his bow with a third arrow, everyone's hands raising in a form of surrender. Balin stepped forth.

"You're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken?". The bow was instantly aimed for the cheerful Dwarf, his feet coming to a halt out of caution. "That barge over there. It wouldn't be for hire by any chance?". The stranger's brows creased, his weapon slowly being withdrawn.

"And what makes you think that I would help you?". The stranger gladly took the barrels you all had used, loading them into the boat with the others he had. Balin was the negotiator, offering every reason for this stranger to give refuge to and accept payment from you all. The man's coat, his three children and wife. To your surprise, the man was a widower. Alike to Balin, you felt the same remorse and shame creeping into your heart at these findings. A single father trying to raise his three children alone in a barren town of ice, water and poverty. You could see why he was cautious of you all.

"Oh, come on. Come on, enough of the niceties", Dwalin finally grunted.

"What's your hurry?", the bargeman shot back.

"What's it to you?".

"I would like to know who you are". His brown hues crossed over you all, lingering on you for a brief moment. "And what you are doing in these lands".

"We are just simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills". A lie from Balin, but a well told lie. The bargeman had no reason to believe him and he most likely didn't, his eyes crossing over you again.

"And what about you?", he asked, directing his attention to the one who stood out the most. Female and human in a troupe of male Dwarves. It was a very uncommon sight indeed. "What's your story?".

"It's none of your business", Kili snapped.

"I don't believe I was asking you".

"This is my family", you replied, gathering the archer's attention wholeheartedly. The Dwarves felt some part of their hearts warming at the thought of you considering them family. You'd spent many months with them, lived through many hardships and they knew that you'd meant your words. It showed in your eyes. The stranger's brows rose, an amused smile playing on his lips,

"Thirteen Dwarves is quite an unusual family for a human, wouldn't you think?".

"Hardly", you replied, continuing Balin's lie with more truths of your own. "We've been through the worst together. I love them. And I would be prepared to give my all to see our kin again". The bargeman saw the truth of your words in your keen gaze, but his instincts were calling to him.

"Are you certain that you not a Ranger of the wilds, baring the gifts of your true kin??". Your expression remained neutral. How had he known??

"My true kin??".

"Your sharp senses. You heard my coming before that of your family. And you bare the mark of Ithilien on your leather boots. A tree crowned with six stars and a crescent moon". Your silence was answer enough for the bowman, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. He was a harder man to fool than you'd first presumed. His eyes flickered to Balin with a knowing smile. " 'Simple merchants', you say??".

"We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?", Thorin chimed in. With reluctance still prominent in his demeanour, the stranger marked the barrels he'd pulled from the water,

"I know where these barrels came from".

"What of it?".

"I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well". The bargeman turned back to you all, readying his ship to depart. "No one enters Laketown, but by leave of the Master. All of his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil", he huffed, throwing rope at Balin. The Dwarf turned his attention to Thorin who mouthed something in Khuzdul, encouraging him to continue pushing the debate with the stranger. And push he did.

"I'll wager that there are ways to enter that town unseen!".

"Aye", he agreed. "But, for that, you would need a smuggler".

"For which we would pay double", Balin insisted almost pleadingly.

Something suddenly snapped in this stranger, causing him to relent and follow your cause. It wasn't the money he was promised, but the desperation he'd seen all too many times before in those he loved. After accepting thanks from both yourself and Bilbo for his help, the man introduced himself as Bard. He set off with you all post-haste, setting his course for Laketown. The misty haze covering the water was thick, the waters almost black and dead, save for the movement of the vessel you stood in. Bard used a large oar for a rudder placed at the back of the boat, steering the ship through the dark. "Look out!!", Bofur had shouted, spotting jagged cliffs ahead, spotting randomly and towering by many feet in the waters. Bard steered by them with an expert precision.

"What are you trying to do?", Thorin piped up. "Drown us??".

"I was born and bred on these waters, master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here".

"Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lakeman", Dwalin grumbled beneath his breath. "Let's say we throw him over the side and be done with it". Bilbo huffed in frustration,

"Bard. His name's Bard".

"How do ye know?", Bofur asked.

"Uh, I asked him??", the Hobbit answered as if it were obvious.

"I don't care what he calls himself, I don't like him", Dwalin shot back.

"We do not have to like him", Balin shrugged. "We simply have to pay him. Turn out your pockets, lads". You'd already given Balin your coin purse, taking to leaning stiffly leaning against the right side of the boat. The conversations faded from your ears, the cold air still nipping at your skin. Your eyes came to a soft close, riddled with exhaustion. A burning warmth enveloped your numb hands, two larger ones coming to rest upon them. You knew those callouses, your gaze falling to your right. Kili's hazel hues were set upon the waters, as your own had been.

"I never got to thank you for saving my hide", you mumbled, offering his larger hands a caress. "Again". Guilt played within your gaze, his eyes meeting yours with a slightly amused smile. "I'm sorry, Kee".

"I am too. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way that I did either. You were just worried. I would have been".

"I'm still worried", you confessed, brushing his fringe from his face, noting his skin with concern. "You're so pale, Kee". The back of your hand pressed to his forehead. "You're burning up". He removed your hand with a great amount of gentleness, rejection needling your heart. You'd spied his leg, dark blood weeping through the fabrics wrapped around it. The Prince drew your gaze with his breathtaking smile,

"I'll be fine, (Y/n). You'll see".

Those same words echoed in your head with Kili splayed across Bard's bed only a day later. You'd seen his eyes become red with inflammation and exhaustion, seen his skin turn a shade of pale white. You'd seen him become weaker with every passing hour, now unable to stand properly. All you had seen, despite his assurances, was his slow suffering. And it was killing you from the inside out.

Every part of him was rippling in agony, his body trying to burn off the poison raging in his blood to no avail. Sweat was trailing down the Princeling's skin, matting his hair. His breaths were erratic in his struggle to breathe. "(Y/n)", his voice cracked, his hazel eyes almost terrifyingly dull, yet clouded with fear. He felt a fool now, having ignored your words of warning on his injury. Because some part of him understood now, alike to yourself, that he was dying. He had been all along. Hot tears stung his eyes, his fingers barely able to reach for your hand. Taking your lower lip into your teeth, you tried to keep from breaking down. You had to remain strong for Kili, but hope was disappearing with every passing second. He squeezed the fingers you'd offered him with what little strength he could muster. "I'm— I'm so sorry". A pained groan left him, trying to restrain the urge he had to move.

"Don't start that", you told him, returning the grip on your hand. "No goodbyes yet, Kili. We can still save you". Bard brought out a box of various herbs on a separate table. All were useless to Oin.

"None of these are any good to me. Do y' have any kingsfoil??".

"Kingsfoil? It's a weed?", Bard replied, brows creasing in confusion. "We feed it to the pigs". Kili's grip suddenly became painful on your hand, feeling as if a hot knife had been plunged through him. A wail escaped his throat that had you wincing, Fili rushing to your side again to offer not only his brother comfort, but you as well. The eldest Princeling had tried to convince you to leave with Thorin, promising you that this was only benign. Now, Fili was grateful that you'd stayed, not allowing your friends to go this alone. He was facing the possibility of losing his younger brother this very evening and here you were, holding the blonde's hand with your spare one to alleviate the stress. Amidst Kili's groans of pain, Bofur rushed to the table, exclaiming something about Kingsfoil.

"Don't move!", he'd told the younger Prince, recieving a pointed glare from him in return. Bard had left the house with his son Bain and a black arrow in tow. It was very possible, given the tremors you'd felt this evening, that Smaug had awakened. However, Bain had returned sooner than expected, claiming that his father had been pursued by guards and the black arrow hidden safely. Hope was fading faster by the second as the tense waiting began. The air was eerily quiet in Laketown, save for the odd cries from the Dwarf in your care. You all waited on Bofur, praying that the intuitive Dwarf would return with the herbs. Sigrid stepped outside, praying for her father's return as well as Bofur's.

"Da?", she called out, hearing movement along the wooden boardwalks of the town. When turning to retreat inside, her blood-curdling scream caught your attention. Sigrid tried to close the door, the Orc that had tried to strike her jamming his sword between it.

"Get away from the door!!", you yelled, Sigrid leaping back only to get thrown on one of the chairs, moving to hide under the table with her younger sister. Fili had charged from your side and into the Orc, battling by hand. More came crashing in through the roof, both Bain and yourself using the furniture at your disposal to fight them off. It became a struggle to fight their growing numbers in your attempt to protect Bard's children as well as Kili.

On any other occasion, you would've despised her presence, yet now you couldn't be more grateful for the extra set of hands Tauriel offered as she stepped into the room with her blades drawn. Her keen emerald eyes scanned the room, immediately beginning her onslaught against the growing number of Orcs in Bard's living room. Legolas leapt in not too soon after, joining your fight against the hellish creatures. You spoke not a word to either of them, taking their help as an advantage. Another wail from Kili broke the room, seeing that an Orc had gripped his injured leg, pulling him along the bed. Tauriel threw a knife into the skull of the Orc, the Princeling falling to the floor with a cry. You'd rushed to his side, Legolas flanking your defence. His skills with Elven daggers surpassed even the skill of Tauriel, weaving through the room like a graceful, yet sharp wind. "Get down!", Fili had yelled, pulling Bard's children behind the fallen table to hide. Kili had grabbed Tauriel's dagger from the dead Orc who had attacked him, using it to try flanking your defence and Tauriel's. Instantaneously, he'd collapsed with a scream, one of the Orcs vaulting from the room in its escape. The battle was forgotten, your makeshift weapons clattering to the floor. You heaved Kili's heavy body into your arms, the Prince now writhing in excruciating pain.

"Kili", you tried to calm him, your voice tremoring with the chilling anxiety rushing through you. Oin and Fili sprinted to your side with urgency, Tauriel's mouth falling open at the wound on Kili's leg. Black blood dripped onto the floor, the Morgul poisons all too familiar to the Elf.

"You killed them all", Bain gasped, almost feeling sick at the sight of his home.

"There are others", Legolas stated, readying his weapons to face of with your shared foes once more. "Tauriel, come". He beckoned his counterpart, hesitation showing in her features.

"We're losing him!", Oin begged, looking to Tauriel for help. She was capable, her people far more skilled than your own in the arts of medicine. Her eyes were wide, darting between you all and the retreating form of the Elven Prince. Her duty to the world, to her Prince Legolas surpassed the needs of your Prince, your best friend. Despite her curiosity of Kili, Tauriel didn't share the feelings for Kili that he had for her. For the Dwarven Prince, it was almost like love at first sight, continuing to be enamoured by her, her graceful and kind spirit, her smile. For Tauriel, it was a silly dream to pursue love with a Dwarf. He was handsome for one of his kind, but her heart lied with her duties, her people and with the man she'd slowly come to love. Legolas. Despite his father's wishes, she was not one to easily give up in the pursuit of love and it was clearly requited by the Prince. You envied her for that reason. Tauriel moved past your group without anymore hesitation.

Every part of you stung with hurt for Kili, knowing that he would feel that same agony you had alongside his current ailments. Unbridled rage filled your heart, watching as she left him helpless, screaming. "So that's it??", you called to Tauriel, allowing Fili to take his brother whilst you stood to confront her. "You'll just let him die??". The redhead turned, confusion etched into her expression.

"And what would you have me do? Orcs are running rampant, more innocents will die if I do not help them". Tears fell freely from your eyes.

"He's dying!!", you roared, gesturing to Kili. "He hasn't time! Save him!! Please!".

"I cannot linger—".

"Bullshit!! He opened his heart to you, Tauriel!! You can't leave him like this!!", you bellowed. You saw in her gaze that perhaps she knew of Kili's attraction to her. Yet, you'd come to understand why she'd taken to ignoring it.

"I can't—", she whispered with a shake of her head, turning again to leave.

"Please, Tauriel", your voice broke, lowering to a whisper only she could hear, "I love him". And that's when Tauriel understood. Guilt swam in her gaze when she looked upon you again. The stabbing pain of unrequited love sat heavy in your eyes.

"I'm sorry", she murmured, the entire apology heartfelt and genuine. You watched, helplessly as the Elf darted from the balcony and to the rooftops beyond, falling to your knees. A frustrated cry left your lips, Sigrid covering her mouth from seeing you this distraught. Bofur stumbled through the door, baring the Kingsfoil weed. He'd spied your tear stricken face with terror, seeing the desperate situation he'd returned to.

"There's no time!!", you shouted, staggering to your feet.

"(Y/n)? What will ye do??", he asked, all the eyes in the room falling to you.

With surity, you replied, "I have to save him".

You ordered Tilda and Sigrid to ready you some cloths and warm to hot water to best extract the essences from the herbs. Oin, Fili, Bofur and Bain took to lifting the now thrashing Prince onto the kitchen table. Being a Ranger from the South, kingsfoil was commonly used for healing practices by your kin, but you were not schooled in medicine. Your skills were honed on navigating the lands, tracking, stealth and basic combat. You felt useless, only faintly remembering hearing a few healing chants. Most were in Elvish, some in the common tongue of men. The words were lost on you, save for one or two chants. You would have to try.

"Are y' sure y' know what yer doin', Lass?", Oin piped up, watching as you peeled the leaves and flowers into the water.

"No", you huffed a bitter chuckle, your eyes falling down to his own. "But what choice do I have?". Fili eyed you from where he held down his brother, his ocean gaze glistening with hope.

"I have faith in you", he murmured.

"As do I", Bofur added, smiling to lessen the pressure. Oin nodded, giving you his seal of approval. He admired your gaul to act swiftly and take initiative. You would make an excellent healer in his opinion.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped Kili's leg, a pained scream leaving his lips. He writhed, kicking away your touch. His eyes had darkened, having no perception but the agony he felt. "Hold him down!! Please!", you begged the lads, all of them contributing. You tore the fabric away from Kili's wound, nausea creeping into your throat as it had the first time. The wound was still bruised and open, weeping black blood as a large swollen mound with dark veins. No time, you reminded yourself, reaching into the water. Scrunching all the leaves you could find into your palms, you silently prayed that the blood of Numenór flowed true within you as you began the healing chants you could remember. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you commanded, pushing the kingsfoil into the wound. His back arched, a piercing cry leaving his lips. Your eyes closed applying pressure. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death".

"Tilda!", Sigrid shouted, the two joining in holding down Kili's limbs as he continued to struggle from your touch. Oin and Fili watched in awe as you repeated your words over and over. Your chant was in common tongue, yet it seemed to breathe life into the room itself. You had begun to think and worry that nothing would work, that Kili was too far gone. Tears slipped again from your eyes, your voice remaining sterdy despite the tightness wanting to creep through your throat. Your mind was wholly set on saving him, imagining him as spriteful as the day you'd met him. Love and care poured through every fibre of your being and perhaps the Divines felt it?? You prayed that they'd help encompass all that energy for him if they did. Feeling the tension slipping from Kili's limbs slowly, you heard his cries dying into calmer, but ragged breaths. It was working..

"May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you repeated with more fervour, finally having the courage to open your eyes to meet his own. His hazel hues were no longer pale and dull. They were now full of life. His lips were parted, eyelashes fluttering in some semblance of shock, as if you'd pulled him from water to save him from drowning. And you had saved him. The darkness that clouded his vision, blinding him to all else was broken. It was as if he was watching the sun rising for the first time, seeing that divine light cracking the dark horizons open to see you. There was only you in his line of sight, pulling him like a lifeline. Kili found himself wondering how you'd ever come to be so beautiful. The infatuation he'd held for Tauriel paled in comparison to the affection for you that wormed its way past his broken heart and into his soul. And perhaps it had always been there?? The Prince felt a sense of relief fill him, coming to understand why he'd always felt differently for you. It had been you all along, he was only blinded to it.

Kili's pain faded from him, his body no longer fighting the poison. It had been neutralised, expelled from him. Death couldn't touch him any longer, or so he felt. His body instead burned with a warm, pure light. Every part of him relaxed under your touch, a soft sigh leaving the Prince as his breathing turned to some form of normality. His blood ran red through your fingers, cleansed now. The swelling would slowly decrease over time, as would the inflammation and bruising. You smiled, crying from your relief. The stiffness in your limbs created by the tense situation had dissipated. A breathy laugh, wet from your tears left your throat. You'd done it, you'd saved him. Bofur happily placed a hand on your own, both Tilda and Sigrid alight with joy over this victory. The girls circled the table, taking you into their shared embrace, giving you words of assurance, congratulations and gratitude for helping protect them. Fili grinned, sharing in some semblance of relieved laughter, resting his forehead on his brother's in a familial embrace.

Everyone had relaxed, leaving the room to allow you to continue in your endeavours to finish your work on Kili's wound. You pulled the kingsfoil from the scar, rinsing a cloth with the water the herbs had soaked in. The water was still warm and clean, fragrant with the essences of the weeds. You wiped the fabric over the wound, brushing away dirt, dead flesh and irritants. Once it was clean and dry, you started to bind his leg with cleaner fabrics that Bain had sought for you.

"I have never seen the healing practices of the Dunédain until this evening. That there was a privilege to witness", Oin marveled, turning to the blonde Prince who had also been in some state of awe at what he'd seen.

Softly, your hands worked at the bindings on Kili's leg, placing the material thickly over his wound to ensure it was well protected from weeping blood. "(Y/n)", The Princeling beneath you croaked, his voice hoarse and raw from his screaming. You smiled with a wistfulness, relieved to see him so at peace.

"It's okay, Kee", you breathed. "I'm here. Lie still for me, alright?". His hazel hues held an emotion you couldn't read, fluttering in their attempt to stay awake. A tired smile slowly etched onto his face, twinkling weakly with his usual cheekiness.

"You're so,—", his voice cracked. "—so beautiful".

Your brows knitted together in confusion when you glanced at him from his leg. He was clearly delusional. He had to have been.

"You're a bit dazed, Kee", you smiled, politely dismissing his words. "You need to rest".

"You are", he insisted beneath his breath. "You're so, so beautiful". You felt his warming fingertips brushing over the hand that rested on his thigh, the goosebumps from his touch spindling across your skin. "You were crafted by the sunglow of another world. Your light saved me. It wasn't a dream". Your lips parted, unsure of his kind words and the clarity behind them.

Kili breathed as if it were difficult to talk, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion. His smile still remained, eyeing your hands when you brushed your thumb over the fingers that rested upon your own.

Slowly, his breathing evened out, a light sleep taking the Prince as you continued to work. Once securing his bandages with a light knot, you leant down, brushing your lips over his forehead with a silent prayer that the Company was alive in Erebor. That the ruin that Bard had predicted wouldn't come to pass. Fili shared your sentiment, his eyes worriedly meeting your own before he embraced you in gratitude, thanking you once more for saving his brother. But, your complacency was only temporary.

When you stumbled onto the rocky shores in the cold light of the dawn, you beheld desperation, sadness, loss and terror amidst the ruin that had come to pass. Smaug's onslaught was without mercy or conscience. Bard had been right all along. Now, you were praying that he was alive with his son. You'd grown worried for the bargeman and his son after seeing Smaug plummet from the skies.

Frantically, you searched the shores for the two males. Tilda was in your arms, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. Sigrid clung to your free hand, shouting for her father. The Dwarves were readying the cannoe you'd all travelled in for the trip to Erebor. It felt wrong to leave everyone behind. You wouldn't leave yet, not until the girls had their father back.

Kili was hardly focusing on helping his kin with the small boat, his hazel eyes admiring you from afar. "Kee?", Fili called to him, beckoning him to help.

"Eyeing the lass?", Bofur asked with some suspicion and confusion, a smile twitching on his lips.

"What if I was?", the younger Prince shrugged, missing the hopeful glint in the older Dwarf's eye. "I have to make sure she's alright". Fili turned to Bofur, his brows raised. Both said no more in watching Kili ascend the shores. You had begun to make your return, Bard and Bain now reunited with the girls in the small encampment.

With exhaustion heavy in your steps, you smiled at the brunette Princeling on his unexpected approach. Your mind flashed back to those warm callouses brushing against your skin, goosebumps flushing across your arms at the thought. He'd hardly spoken a word to you since the previous night, making you question if he'd even been coherent when he mumbled those sweet words to you. Perhaps it was your wishful thinking in the end?

"Ready to go?", you'd asked him, beginning to stray past him whilst he'd stopped.

"(Y/n)", he called to you, the softness in his voice halting your steps. Your brows furrowed,

"Kili, we need to go".

"I need to talk to you". His hand reached for your own before you could turn away, gently tugging at your smaller fingers. Even after all this time, you found yourself unable to ignore the intensity of his hazel hues, something unreadable sitting hard within his gaze. "Please", he spoke, barely above a breath.

Instinctively, you turned fully to face him, your thumb brushing over his larger hand. "Of course", you replied, almost unsteady with nervousness. Some part of you felt that he may assure you that he had no feelings for you, that his words to you had been hollow. And you prayed that if he were to reject you, that he'd do so softly.

"I just want to say thank you", he confessed. "For saving my life".

"Kili, you needn't thank me", you insisted, his other hand pressing something smooth and cold into your palm. "What are you—".

"The days are growing darker, (Y/n)", he cut in, clasping your fingers around the object. His second hand warmed your cold, stinging skin. "Last night, I realised how little time we may have left and I have grown so afraid that I won't have the time to say what I must to those who matter". Your brows creased in concern, always content to allow him to express his innermost thoughts. "I'm giving you this token. As a promise".

"Kili—", you tried to desist him to no avail.

"Amrâlimê", he hushed you with a silken voice. It was like the word had caressed your very soul. A smile splayed slowly onto his features whilst his eyes seemed to read yours. "You felt it too, didn't you?".

"Felt what, Kili? I don't know what that word means", you replied with a quiver to your whisper, his grin growing.

"I think you do", he bounced back, a featherlight playfulness present in his glimmering gaze. "It's my promise to you. That I'll always come back to you". You saw the glassing of tears within his gaze. "Even at death's door, I will come back to you".

"Why would you promise such a thing to me, Kili?", you asked, confusion clouding over your expression. "When your heart clearly belongs to another??". To Tauriel...

A soft laugh slipped from the Princeling's lips, an affectionate glow radiating from his tender gaze. "It was infatuation, an idea that I'd tried to pursue with Tauriel", he murmured with a soft shake to his head. "It was foolish to pursue that which was but a shadow to how I feel for you, (Y/n). I know now how I feel— how I've felt all along for you and I'm not afraid. I was just too blind to see our connection for what it was". You felt his fingers squeeze yours, his eyes playing across your more delicate features. "For that, I hope you can forgive me and realise that my words to you last night were not of a daze, but from my heart. You make me feel alive".

Ignoring the tears that stung in your eyes, you finally felt as if your own heart had been freed, your smile like a pure light shining on the Prince. The warmth of Kili's spare hand reached to cradle your face, swiping his thumb over your glistening eyes.

The short gap between you was no more when your head had dipped, the softness of his lips engulfing your own in a deep caress. Kili's hand twined into your curls, pulling you flush into him whilst his other hand remained with your own, as if to solidify his promise to you. Your thumb worked soothing caresses over his rough skin, getting lost in his kiss before you heard whistles from the shore nearby.

Your lips parted from the Prince's, quickly missing the sensation of his hot touch in the biting cold of the morning breeze. Whistling and clapping, Bofur stood upon the cannoe, overjoyed at the scene playing before him. "If you both are done, we do plan on travelling today! ", Fili shouted, a playful grin on his expression.

Both yourself and Kili lapsed into a soft bout of laughter, sharing an affectionate glance before you allowed the Princeling to finally lead you to the boat to travel home.

The End. . .

__________________________________________

Hey readers!!

I hope you all enjoyed this fic!! I have a LOTR fic in the works as we speak, so keep your eyes peeled, folks! As always, any and all feedback is welcome! If you wish to be added to my tagslist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤

As always, thank you all for your support in my works!! ❤❤

* * *

Translations;

Tolo hí = "come on" (Elvish/Sindarin)

Ishkh khakfe andu null = "go pour excrement on your head" (Khuzdul)

__________________________________________

TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl @deadlymistletoe

#kili x reader #kili #kili durin #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic

599 notes · View notes

queer-irritator · 5 months

Text

Everything Has Changed | Kratos x reader

A/N: I was listening to music and Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift came on and it made me think of how one look at Kratos and I was in love lmao. I think Kratos deserves a whirlwind, sudden teenage dream type romance. Pure fluff!

Fem reader, no use of pronouns, but feminine descriptions used.

CW: Adult language, mention of death, mention of mysophobia.

Word Count: 4,535

---

You lived alone on a small island in Svartalfheim, near Dragon’s Beach. Since the towns nearby were built with dwarves in mind, you didn’t exactly find it the most comfortable to live in Nidavellir. So, you built your own little slice of paradise. You had a quaint home, not unlike those housed by dwarves. You also had your own garden to grow food, and a few pets to keep you company. You found your way into the tight-knit community created by, and for, dwarves after being taken in by the most unlikely candidate in all of Svartalfheim, Sindri.

Left an orphan after your parents were murdered under Odin’s orders, you were stuck wandering the town of Nidavellir at the age of 6. Your parents were adventurers; brave and curious truth-seekers. But when their curiosity brought them to Svartalfheim, dangerously close to what you can only assume was something very sacred to Odin, they were killed. Or, that’s what you think anyway. Odin and the aesir claim there was an “accident” when they were exploring. You didn’t know any better at the time, but Sindri did. Somehow he had convinced Odin not to take you away with him, gods know what he would have done to you if he hadn’t been successful.

Since then, you’ve looked to Sindri, and the entire community of Nidavellir, as family. It had been almost two decades since then, and now you work hard helping out the dwarves any way you can. You perform chores that are made easy due to your height advantage over them, but most importantly you make yourself available to listen to the community, sort of like a self-appointed therapist. That’s where you were at this very moment, on a hill a few minutes walk outside of town, you call your “office”. You saw a few people each day, but today was slower than usual. On days like this you liked to practice magic and tend to your garden. You took an interest in nature, so Sindri taught you how to manipulate some natural elements, get food to grow quicker, some healing magic, stuff like that. You were planting some seeds for the upcoming harvest season. Your hands, covered in soft, cold dirt, carefully poked holes into the tender earth. You dropped a few seeds in each hole before gently covering them back up.

The snap of a twig to your left tore your focus away from your current task. You turned your head to meet the sound and couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You saw Sindri stepping out from behind a tree, you hadn’t seen him in a few months, the both of you had been consumed in work as of late.

“Sindri!” you called to the dwarf as you dusted the dirt off your hands and stood up.

“Hey, it’s been a while. I-”

You cut off Sindri’s words by running over to him and embracing him in a bone-crunching hug. You were careful to keep your dirty hands away from him, but he hated being touched nonetheless. This was the longest you’ve ever gone without seeing each other, so he was just going to have to deal with your close proximity. You could feel his body tense up around your arms, signaling he had enough.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate it, but I haven’t seen you in forever!!” You flashed him a sad smile, pleading him not to be upset with you.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just… take a bath in bleach.” He was standing so none of his limbs were touching each other, like an awkward sparring dummy.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” You teased him as you knelt down to rinse your hands in a bucket of water nearby.

“We breathed the same air for nearly 20 years, a hug is nothing.” you attempted to reason with his brain. You stood up once again and really took in the sight of Sindri standing in front of you. Despite his mysophobia that refused to waver, you really missed him.

“So, what are you doing here? Just dropping by?”

“No, I… I actually need your help with something.” Sindri’s tone had shifted from annoyed to more serious. “Anything for you, Sin’.” you smiled at him, trying to keep the conversation light. You couldn’t imagine he would have anything horrific to ask of you. You turned to a small shelf and grabbed a clean rag and a bottle of cleaner and handed it to Sindri.

“Here. I can’t take you seriously with you standing like that, man.” You chuckled. He mumbled out a ‘thanks’ and swiftly began to clean himself.

While Sindri was getting himself into a state of cleanliness that he deemed suitable, he told you of the favor he needed. He explained that the World Tree was dangerously close to becoming overgrown, and Ratatoskr had his hands busy trying to parent the lindwyrms, who were not ready to care for the world tree on their own quite yet.

“Ahh, so now my “dirty hobby” has come to be useful!” You crossed your arms smugly as Sindri rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“If that’s how you want to look at it…” he murmured. “Just, come to my house when you’re ready. I have to take a bath now.”

Before you could even agree, Sindri was gone. You chuckled to yourself and began to clean up and get ready to be away for awhile. You said a spell over your newly planted seeds to keep them healthy and watered for the time being. Next you collected some clothes and supplies into a small satchel and picked up your sword. Its hilt was crafted from dwarven steel and the blade was made out of wood from a poison tree and wrapped in thorny vines. You slid it into its sheath on your back and headed to the nearest mystic gateway.

---

Kratos, Atreus, and Mimir had just returned from freeing the Hafgufa from Vanaheim. There was a trail of sand following behind them.

“I’m really glad we got to set the Hafgufas free, but I don’t think I wanna go to any realms with sand for a while…” Atreus stated as he brushed some sand from his hair

“Aye, I’ve got sand in me neck stump!” Mimir shared Atreus’ disdain for feeling sand in every crevice imaginable. The sound of the front doors opening pulled the men’s attention from their current discomfort.

You took a few steps through the front door before you stopped in your tracks as you locked eyes with perhaps the most invigorating man you’ve ever seen. You hadn’t expected to see anyone else at the house, let alone someone so tantalizing. It felt as if all the breath was stolen from your lungs as you looked deep into his amber eyes. The scowl the man had on his face only a second before had noticeably softened now. It was as if the two of you were the only people in all the nine realms at that moment. After what felt like years of staring into this man’s soul through his eyes, it was cut short as sound filled the air.

“Y/n! About time I saw you again.” Brok greeted you as he walked out from behind the counter of the workshop. You held your gaze with the giant man for just one more second before reluctantly tearing your eyes away to greet Brok.

This was no big deal, you just had to act like you hadn’t just seen the most attractive and magnetizing person in your entire life… If you didn’t believe in love at first sight before, you sure as Hel believed in it now.

“It’s really great to see you, Brok.” You smiled at the blue dwarf and bent down to engulf him in a hug. You could only hope that he couldn’t feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Although your back was turned, you could feel the man's eyes on your body. You stood up straight and took a deep breath, readying yourself to speak to the handsome stranger. You turned towards him and held out your hand to greet him as you found yourself drawn to his eyes once again.

“Hi, I’m (y/n).” You introduced yourself. The man glanced down at your hand and then back at you. He reached his hand out to grasp yours in a surprisingly gentle handshake.

“Kratos.” is all he said. The sound of his voice was better than anything you imagined. You could have melted into a puddle of goo at that very moment.

“Kratos.” You smiled as you repeated his name. “It’s very nice to meet you.” You said, letting go of his hand, missing the warmth of his body heat immediately. You looked to your right to see a teenage boy. You had almost missed him in all the feelings and thoughts swirling around in your head.

Kratos placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, “This is my son, Atreus.”

You reached your hand out to greet Atreus as well, “It’s very nice to meet you too!” you smiled at the boy. He returned your smile and shook your hand, with much more grip and enthusiasm than his father.

“Good to meet you as well! So, how do you know Sindri?” Atreus asked, assuming only people close to the dwarf would be allowed access into his home. You chuckled slightly, thinking he was joking around. When he glanced around awkwardly you realized how serious he was.

“Oh…” you started, confusion showing on your face, but it soon turned to agitation. “Oh my gods.” You quickly turned your head to Brok. “He… He doesn’t talk about me?” You practically yelled in astonishment.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me… But, uh, let me take a look at yer sword.” Brok knew just how to evade your annoyance. You took out your sword and set it down on the workshop table with a scoff as you repeated your words with disbelief, “He doesn’t talk about me…”

Kratos and Atreus silently exchanged glances to each other as they were left guessing how you and Sindri were acquainted. One situation in particular was swirling around Kratos’ mind, that you were romantically involved with the dwarf. Disappointment had crept up onto him as he began to entertain this thought.

“Uhm… Are you and Sindri, like… dating?” Atreus awkwardly asked you, staring at his own feet to avoid your gaze.

“No! Oh, no, not at all! He raised me!” You had been so lost in your annoyance that you never answered the boy's question.

Kratos felt relief wash over him. He wasn’t sure why he was relieved, or why he cared if you had been something more than a friend or family member to Sindri. He had just met you, he should not be having these types of thoughts or feelings about anyone, let alone a stranger.

“Ohhh!” Atreus chuckled a little, finally looking up at you again. “Wait- Sindri had a kid?” He glanced at his father and then back to you. “Are you-”

You cut Atreus off before things could get awkward again, “No, I’m like an adopted sibling he never wanted.” you cleared the air.

Seemingly right on cue, Sindri entered the house.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you three would be back already...” Sindri shifted his weight from side to side, seemingly unprepared to introduce you to his guests. But his awkward demeanor soon switched to panic as he noticed the pool of sand in his house.

“Really?!” Sindri sighed loudly as he fetched a broom from a nearby closet. “You two, get outside!” He commanded Kratos and Atreus, pushing the broom at their heels to rush them out of his previously pristine house.

Once the duo had been escorted outside, Sindri shot them a warning, “And do NOT come back in until you are sand-free!”

Sindri propped the front doors open and began to sweep the sand out of the house. You were left watching the entire ordeal with a slightly amused look on your face. You figured you could give Sindri shit later for not telling his friends about you, he had enough on his plate for the time being. For now, your gaze drifted back towards Kratos.

“Uhm, I’m gonna go take a bath.” Atreus notified his father before turning his back to walk through a small wooden gate on the side of the house to clean up.

Kratos grumbled slightly and unhooked Mimir from his belt, setting him down on the bottom step of the stairs leading into the house. He then proceeded to take off each piece of his armor and shake the sand out from them. You took your time to look over his upper body. Your eyes trailed the bright red tattoo, from the sharp edge on his face to the swirl on his bicep, and the curve on his abdomen. You couldn’t help admiring his muscular physique and taking note of the large scar on his stomach, and a smaller one over his eye.

“Alright, quit yer drooling.” Brok’s voice snapped you back into reality. He set down your sword on the counter in between the two of you.

You whipped your head towards the dwarf, a soft pink blush falling over your cheeks.

“Fuck off, I was not drooling…” You defended yourself, snatching your sword back. You took a moment to look over Brok’s upgrades before returning it to its sheath.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Brok teased you further.

You rolled your eyes and started to walk down the steps outside. You were careful not to make any more of a mess for Sindri, but not careful enough to notice a severed head on the very last step. In your effort to avoid stepping on the head, you tripped over your own two feet. Instead of feeling the harsh impact of the ground, you felt a warm hand on your upper arm. You looked up to see Kratos holding onto you. His piercing brown eyes were staring right into your soul, again. You felt your heart rate pick up, you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. His grip loosened on you and he returned his hand to his side.

“You should be more careful.” Kratos advised you.

“Yeah- uhm, I’m sorry about that.” You turned to the severed head on the steps, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s the big oaf’s fault for settin’ me down there.” The head was surprisingly forgiving of your clumsiness. A tinge of pink settled across your cheeks as you looked back to Kratos. The man just grunted in response to the head.

“I’m Mimir, it’s nice to meet you.” The head introduced himself at last. You sat down on the steps next to Mimir.

“Right back at’cha. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.” You felt guilt for over-looking him earlier. Although, you did overlook just about everyone except for Kratos…

“Don’t even mention it. How could ya have seen me?” Mimir continued to joke at the expense of Kratos. A smile spread across your face. Before you could continue your conversation, a voice rang out.

“Master (y/n)!” A familiar voice entered your eardrums, Ratatoskr. A small sigh escaped your lips as you stood up.

“Duty calls.” You announced. “I’ll see you two around.” You gave a smile to Mimir and a wave to Kratos before walking over to speak with the abnormally large squirrel. It was time to find out what exactly you’ll be helping him with.

Kratos’ gaze followed you as you walked away from him. His eyes raked over your figure, memorizing the way you walked and how your hips moved with each step.

“Father?” Atreus’ voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hm?” Kratos turned his attention to his son and continued to shake the last of the sand out of his waist armor.

“I was just saying that the bath is ready for you, and I can clean up out here.” Atreus shifted his gaze between Mimir and his father. Kratos simply nodded his head, dropping the armor he was holding and headed to get himself cleaned up.

Atreus began to gather the armor from the ground. “Uhh, do you think he’s acting a little… weird today?”

“I think he might be a wee bit tired from all the traveling, lad. Speaking of, would you mind helping me clean up a bit?”

“Sure, no problem Mimir.” Atreus smiled and got to work.

---

You spent the next few hours getting a tour of the World Tree and extremely detailed instructions from Ratatoskr on how to care for it. He explained how to prune the branches, what limbs held which realms, what you should never touch, the list went on and on. Your head was so filled with new information it felt like your brain was going to explode. You walked into the house just as it was getting dark outside after finally being relieved for the evening. Even though the realm between realms doesn’t have a sun and a moon, it was still nice to have it simulate days and nights, so as to not lose track of time. The scent of meat and spices filled your nostrils, Brok was in the kitchen stirring a large pot, of what you assume was dinner.

“That smells amazing.” You said, walking towards Brok. You stopped in front of the giant pot and picked up a spoon to give the stew a taste test. “Tastes amazing too.”

“It ain’t ready yet.” Brok snatched the spoon out of your hand. You put your hands up in defense.

“Sorry, I guess I’ll just wait then… and never compliment you again.” you turned your back and headed to where you used to sleep growing up.

“Wait, that’s-” Before Brok could finish his warning, you opened the door to be greeted by Kratos sitting on the side of a makeshift bed. The only item of clothing he had on was dark brown pants. He almost looked like a different person without all his armor on. There was even more scarring hiding under his wrist armor, it looked like chains had been branded onto his forearms.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were staying in here.” You apologized for intruding.

Kratos looked up to meet your gaze, “It is fine.”

You gave him a small smile and looked around the room, “This place hasn’t changed much. I used to stay in this room when I was younger.” You leaned against the wall as a flood of memories entered your mind.

“You can have the room if you wish.” Kratos said as he stood up with a slight grunt.

“No, I couldn’t kick you out of your room. You probably need it more than me. Plus, the chair out there is pretty comfy.” You assured him.

“Mh… Let me know if you change your mind.” He began to wrap some red cloth around his forearms.

“So, how did you come to have a talking severed head as your companion?” You questioned him.

“I cut it off.” Kratos replied to you plainly.

“Huh?” You had confusion written all over your face.

“He was trapped. Imprisoned in a tree and tortured everyday. He asked me to cut off his head to free him. So I did.” Kratos further explained.

“Oh, that’s actually really kind of you.” You said, reflecting on the odd, but thoughtful, request.

Kratos grunted in response.

Just as you were about to ask him more about himself, you heard Brok announce that dinner was ready. You gave Kratos one more look over. His lack of clothing was incredibly inviting, but you were hungry and tired.

“I’ll see you out there.” You excused yourself and walked out to the table to sit down and get some food.

---

Dinner was nice and casual, there was no residual awkwardness from the days prior events. You got to know more about Atreus, that boy really likes to talk. He was going on about the different types of monsters he’s fought with his dad. He seemed the most proud of defeating a huge electric dragon a few years ago. The most surprising detail of the story was that Sindri utilized one of the dragon’s teeth to enhance Atreus’ bow. Swapping stories around the dinner table made the time go by far too fast for your liking. It felt like the six of you had been friends for a lifetime. When the conversation had died down, you stood up and collected the empty plates. You made your way to the kitchen to wash up while Kratos and Atreus went into their respective rooms.

“I can get that, you should get some rest.” Sindri’s voice came from behind you. You turned your head to look at him.

“No, I really don’t mind!” You insisted, turning on the water.

“Okay… Well, to be honest I don’t trust anyone else washing the dishes but me.” Sindri admitted.

“Mmmh, the truth comes out.” You chuckled and stepped away from the sink. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“You just rest. You’ve done a lot for me today… Thank you.” Sindri gave you a small smile and got started on cleaning up.

You had an idea brewing in your mind. You couldn’t get your mind off of Kratos. You just wanted to know more about him, he was all you could think of. You found a spare piece of paper, scribbled down a note, slipped it under Kratos’ door and made yourself scarce.

“Brother, someone’s slipped a note under your door.” Mimir alerted Kratos, who was laying down on his makeshift bed. He pulled the weight of himself up with a slight grunt and walked over to where the note was. He bent down and picked it up, unfolding it carefully.

Meet me at the side of the house.

Kratos furrowed his brows and let out a confused grumble. He set the note down on a crate near his bed and stepped out of his room.

“Aye, what did it say??” Mimir questioned, but the only response he got was the sound of the door closing and heavy footsteps leading further and further away.

You were sitting on a barrel, leaning your back against the side of the house and nervously tapping your fingertips on your thigh. You heard the front door open and close, causing you to spring to your feet and run a hand through your hair to tame any fly-aways. You watched as Kratos entered through the side gate, latching it behind him. Your heartbeat started to increase with each step he took toward you. He stopped a few feet away from you.

“You wanted to see me?” Kratos spoke with a hint of confusion laced in his words.

“Yeah, I did…” You took a step toward him, taking in a deep breath before looking up into his eyes. “I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, and I just wanna know you better.” You confessed your infatuation with the man.

“What would you wish to know?” Kratos asked you.

“Everything?” You responded, taking another step closer to him, leaving only a few inches of space in between you.

“Mh… That may take awhile.” Kratos looked down at you, his chest steadily rising and falling with each breath he took. It was beyond your grasp how he could remain so calm and stoic, but it made you want him more than ever.

“I have time.” You told him with a small smile. You lifted your hand from your side and carefully placed it on Kratos’ cheek, right where his beard began to sprout. You looked in his eyes for any signs of hesitation, but you found none. You leaned up on your tippy toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

You leaned back just a few centimeters from him and opened your eyes. He hadn’t moved a muscle, it was like you had kissed a statue. Kratos had a look of surprise and confusion sprawled across his face. His eyes were raking over your facial features, searching for any hint of disgust. He was waiting for you to shove him away, to start laughing at him. He was expecting to hear you question who would ever want to touch a monster like him. But you were just staring right back at him, looking increasingly worried by the second.

“Are you okay?” You spoke, barely above a whisper. Had you broken him? Did he not like you? Was he trying to find a way to let you down without hurting your feelings? Your embarrassment started to manifest itself as redness across your cheeks, darkening with each moment of silence that passed.

Kratos nodded ever so slightly and one of his hands ghosted just above your hip, barely making contact with your body.

You placed your free hand on top of his, encouraging him to make full contact with you. You placed both of your hands on either side of his face and kissed him again. Only this time, you weren’t as gentle. You started with a firm kiss and then began to move your lips against his, trying to encourage him to kiss you back. You felt his hand on your hip pull you closer to his body and then you finally felt his lips start to move against yours. He dipped his head down so you didn’t have to strain to reach his lips. You couldn’t hold back a faint moan erupting from your throat as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to get even closer to Kratos. He now placed both his hands on your hips, tilting his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss. After a few more moments, you weren’t sure if it was a lack of oxygen, or if you were getting drunk off of the feeling of Kratos on you, but you were getting dizzy. You stopped kissing him and placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself and took a moment to catch your breath. Kratos watched you cautiously, he gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face with the back of his hand. Your face was flushed pink and your lips were wet with the mix of both of your saliva. He hadn’t had any feelings like this in a long, long time.

“Uhm…” You looked up at Kratos, pleasantly surprised to see he was watching you carefully, “Would you wanna get a drink with me sometime?”

For the first time you saw the man’s cheeks firm up into a slight smile and heard the sweet sound of a chuckle escape his lips.

“Why don’t we go now?” He proposed.

You nodded in response, “Yeah, that sounds great.” You smiled back at him, not caring if you looked like a complete idiot.

“Let us go then.” He declared, walking towards the gate and holding it open for you.

“Okay, I know just the place.” You walked through the small wooden gate and excitedly waited for Kratos to catch up to you at the mystic gateway.

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! I very well may do a part two to this story. Feedback and interaction helps me know if you want me to continue!

#god of war #god of war ragnorak #gow #gowr #kratos #gow kratos #kratos x reader #kratos x fem reader #kratos x gn reader #kratos fluff #kratos smut #gow fanfic #gow fanfiction #gow sindri #gow spoilers #gowr spoilers #atreus #sindri #brok

166 notes · View notes

disasterofastory · 11 months

Note

‌👀Oh is your request box is open? If I may, could you maybe do a piece where Thranduil is trying to court reader but she's too focused on her food? Lmao. And maybe we can pretend that a corsage type flower was a courting gift in Silvan elves culture, so Thranduil try to do it for reader since she has many Silvan elves friend, hoping reader notice his intention. Btw thank you

Dinner Thranduil x Reader Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you for your patience! I hope you will enjoy it. :)

You've never been in his room before. You never had the reason for it until now. And you don't understand why you are feeling so nervous about it. You shouldn't. It's just a room, and Thranduil is your friend. There is nothing you have to worry about.

It will be fine.

"It will be fine," you breathe out, forcing a shaky smile on your face as you knock on the tall wooden door. You are not even sure what you should do. Should you knock again? Or just enter? Does he hear you? Maybe you should really knock again just to be sure. "Y/N," the elf greets you with a slight bow of his head. His impossible blonde hair falls over his shoulder. "Hey," you reply. Without your notice, your smile becomes genuine. The nerves relax in your body. "I hope I'm not too soon." "You are just in time," he says. "Come in."

His room is much bigger than yours with a similar style. The bed is huge, with soft blankets and pillows. One of the nightstands is full of books and papers. A mirror stands next to the door with a beautifully crafted wooden frame. "I thought we could have dinner on the balcony," Thranduil says after a few moments, giving you enough time to look around to your heart's content. While you are busy getting familiar with his space, he watches you the whole time. Your hand touches one of his books on his desk. Your finger smooths over the title. Your hair is tied in braids, and the silver embroidery on your dress glints in the light as you move. The long skirt highlights your height, and the leather belt adores your waist perfectly. "We will eat outside?" You ask, turning your attention to the balcony. "Oh, Thranduil," you gasp. "It's beautiful." "It is," he hums in agreement. You don't notice his gaze on you. "Shall we?" He asks, putting his large hand on the small of your back to lead you to your seat.

The balcony is just wide enough to give enough space for a small table and two chairs. Lush, green leaves run all over the wooden railing and the tall, slim columns, framing the view of the woods that are covered in an orange hue by the slowly disappearing sun behind the trees. "Thranduil, this is truly beautiful," you break the silence. Your eyes still scan the view with awe as you sit down. "I don't even know why you don't spend your every time here," you add jokingly. "I can't rule from a balcony," he smiles, sitting down in front of you. "It would be worth a try."

"And you asked for my favorite," you gasp again, looking down at your plate. "What is the occasion?" "It's… I-" "And it's delicious!" You groan between two bites. Thranduil opens his lips to say something but decides against it and smiles. "I'm glad you like it."

"And where is Legolas?" You ask him after a while, looking back into his room. "He won't be mad because we eat without him, right?" Thranduil's usually hard expression softens at your worry. "No," he says. "I told him it will be just the two of us because-" "Where is he? He came back from the woods already, right? It's getting darker." The elven king's teeth clench for a second. His chest swells with the words he can't say out loud. With a deep breath, he nods to chase away your worries. "He is in his room."

"So," the elf starts again after a while. "I asked you to spend dinner with me because-" "It's not your wine, is it?" You suddenly ask him. "It too… spicy." "I asked for the dwarves," he replies. His voice is tense. He really doesn't want to talk about the dwarves right now. "I know how much you like it." "It's really sweet of you, Thranduil," you smile at him. "I-" "Can we not talk about them?" He snaps, making you freeze with your glass in midair. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in his mood. "Sure," you murmur. "I'm sorry, I-" It seems like it's his turn not to let you finish your sentences. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he closes his eyes for a second. Even though you are familiar with his moods, he doesn't want to ruin the night because of his impatience. You deserve better than him shouting his confession. "Thranduil," you say softly, reaching out for his hand. "Are you alright? Did I do something?" And now, he feels bad. He squeezes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to kiss your soft skin. "You did nothing wrong, Y/N," he says. His voice is calm and collected. "I apologize for my behavior." "Don't worry about it," you smile at him to make the frown between his thick brows disappear. "I am the one who should apologize. I know I was rude. I just… Everything is so beautiful and… I feel nervous," you confess, biting your bottom lip. "I don't know why."

Silence falls on you for long minutes. None of you say anything as you wait for everything to calm down. Looking back, you feel a bit embarrassed because of your behavior. No matter how much you thought you were calm and relaxed, the small knot in your stomach didn't let you enjoy your night with Thranduil completely. You made a fool out of yourself.

"I just wanted to make this night special for you," Thranduil begins, and this time, you press your lips into a thin line to stop yourself from saying anything. "I'm sorry if I ruined it." You squeeze his hand to argue. He ruined nothing. "I have to tell you something." You nod. He laughs. "What? Now you won't speak?" You grin but say nothing. You just watch the curve of his lips and the brightness of his eyes. Happiness looks really good on him. After another deep breath, he confesses. "I want to ask your permission to court you." Your mouth falls open with shock. "What?" You gasp. That one world is barely louder than a whisper. The knot in your stomach starts to burn with full force. "I really like you, Y/N," he explains. "And if you give me permission, I will…" "Yes!" You snap, then jump on your seat. "I mean… And now I'm rude again. I'm sorry! Please, continue!" Amusement shows on his handsome face instead of frustration. "I will show you how much you mean to me if you let me." "Can I speak now?" You whisper. "Yes," he laughs. "Please, Y/N, talk. I start to miss your voice." "I like you too," you tell him. The words leave your lips with a slight tremble. Nervousness and excitement bubble in your chest. "And I would really like to see where it goes." "Good," he smiles. "You want to go for a walk in the garden? It's not too late for that." "Could we stay here?" You ask him. "I really like the view from here." "Of course, Y/N, whatever you want."

Thranduil only hopes this view becomes a part of your daily life when you move in with him.

#thranduil x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader

427 notes · View notes

sarahreesbrennan · 3 months

Note

Hello! If IOL were to get adapted into a TV show (or film I suppose), what are some things you'd be excited for, or things you'd want revealed that we don't get from Elliot's POV?

(also fun fact: my name is Elliot too! It may or may not have been very helpful in getting me to read the book three years ago)

Hi Elliot! A fine name. :)

The silver screen by its nature allows us into more points of view - it’s why my TV tie-ins always had more and briefer PoVs than I usually write, to give the same effect as a moving camera. And In Other Lands is a very limited third by design, since we really have to feel Elliot’s feelings to be in it with him. So immediately a visual, more-on-the-surface medium would open the story up to more reveals - there’s a lot to be done with Serene and Luke, and (for my money) with Captain Woodsinger, Golden, Adara and Myra.

The question also arises what the director’s or showrunner’s vision is, because the showrunner would not be me. There are so many different ways to tell a tale.

If they’re going gritty child soldiers, there’s more to be done with the wars between the different peoples, with dryads and dwarves, and with Delia Winterchild and her lost twin. If they’re going, say, romcom like a fantasy Heartstopper, we’re probably putting Wings In the Morning and In Other Lands in a blender and starting with the characters 15 and up. If they’re doing children’s adventure a la (gayer, weirder) Percy Jackson, we might meet the key three waking up in their respective settings on the day they head off to the Border camp - Serene exiting in a rebellious huff after blazing row with her mother, Luke worried under the weight of loving expectation, Elliot totally clueless and friendless in another world - are these children going to meet? What will hap— Holy SHIT the redhead is being rude! But we’d get it, because we saw where he came from.

The mood of a story is often dictated by what information you parcel out when.

And TV throws curveballs. (Movies less often.) What if the Elliot and Adara actors had lightning-in-a-bottle chemistry? What if Luke and Dale did? I hardly dare imagine. But then again, if it was a She-Ra-style animated series, that would be far less likely. So it’s hard to say what I’d be excited for, as I wouldn’t know what to expect!

I’d be really excited if they did any kind of series, because that’s such a show of faith in my work. And it would mean more job security, and new covers, and more chances for me to get more readers and perhaps most important of all to write more in the In Other Lands world… which (more on this later) I would love to do.

A show is always a wild shot - I’d always try to think of the books as my first concern, as they might do something totally bonkers with an adaptation. (Me, if Luke and Serene fell in romantic love while Elliot died a cowardly weasel’s death: What Show? I Cannot Perceive the Moving Pictures, I Just Do Not Know.) Buuuut, if it ever did happen, I would love to see more of the interdynamics at the Border camp, stuff that flew totally over Elliot’s head. I’d love to have Golden introduced earlier. I’d love to have the harpies in sooner, but as a sinister presence until the big reveal. And of course, channeling my inner Elliot, I’d love to see the mermaids. Throw the whole budget at mermaids!

Thanks for asking, and dreaming with me. 💜

#in other lands #sarah rees brennan #books books books #book adaptation #pjo tv adaptation #heartstopper #she ra

97 notes · View notes

bg3-stole-my-soul · 2 days

Text

❤️Tall Fem! Tav x Astarion Headcanons❤️

So— Tall Fem!Tavs— we need more love and I am going to attempt to play with the idea because in fandom spaces I only ever see fem Tavs that are shorter than Astarion and it makes my tall self’s heart ache.

I also know in game it doesn’t matter if your Tav is taller than Astarion…. But like what if it did— 👀

I am going to keep this as racially, background, and class ambiguous as possible however it is very clear the short races like halflings, dwarves, and gnomes this is most certainly not applicable to. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but this is for us 🤌😌

So on that note physically this Tav is tall, muscular, and probably a lil physically intimidating— and like almost every character I write is of Chaotic Good alignment. Tav is a big, sweet, mischievous muscle mommy with big hands—

This is my first time doing a post like this so please be gracious. I did my best to keep this in character for Astarion, while also sweet and mostly focused on his POV.

Being taller than most of your companions wasn’t a bad thing exactly, just a thing. You had outgrown many of your peers ages ago and while it had embarrassed you for a long time, you eventually embraced it. The stares of others became empowering instead of making you try to shrink yourself in any way you could. However this did not save you from being nabbed by mind flayers and infected— damn. It also surprised you when an elf shorter than you managed to catch you by surprise and hold a knife to your throat.

I don’t think Astarion is the type to be insecure regarding his height, man’s petty enough to climb the counters to the top shelf if he damn well feels like it. However upon meeting a female Tav who’s taller than him, stronger than him, he is ever so slightly worried. It makes him want to spur his plan of manipulation for protection into action quickly. Only because he doesn’t want to run the risk of getting snapped like a toothpick—

On that note, watching you fight absolutely does something to this man. Being able to see your muscles all the way from his perch on the other side of the battlefield is certainly something he can appreciate. He can absolutely admit that you are fine af, especially covered in blood.

At first he would be annoyed if you did things like pat him on the head with your huge hands- after all he puts a lot of work into his hair that he can’t see— but comes to realize it’s your way of gentle support. And he supposes it’s better than other things… Eventually he grows to love you resting your big hands on his head or shoulders. And even further down the line holding your hand, his slender fingers tangled in yours.

When this man chooses to try and bite you in your sleep it is absolutely out of sheer desperation because he is terrified of those arms staking him. But when you accept what he is without any real complaint.. he is pleasantly surprised. He likes you’ve got a good heart in that big chest of yours.

When he gets downed in a fight and wakes up to find himself in your arms being carried back to camp OH BOY that might be the first moment he realizes he’s in trouble.

The next time is absolutely the morning after the tiefling party. He wakes up at the crack of dawn snuggled into your tiddies— and as the old meme states “World hard and cold, tiddy soft and warm”. If he weren’t so excited to bask in the sun he would have stayed there all morning. Post confession it is his favorite way to cuddle.

He believes your arms are the safest place to be, and he is probably right. Being held by you makes him feel like he is surrounded in warmth, and if he sleeps there he usually has less nightmares. Drinking your blood with your arms wrapped around him is genuinely sweet and euphoric for this man.

❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️⚜️❤️

~ ❤️18+ HEADCANONS BELOW❤️~

He also enjoys the two of you just snuggling and admiring one another’s appearances, it’s intimate, and it feels right. He loves being able to take his time tracing his hands everywhere on your larger body, finding the places that make you laugh and squirm for him.

He also doesn’t mind a little manhandling if it’s from you, because he knows despite your size you will happily let him move you where he wants or stop if he’s no longer comfortable.

Back at the tiefling party he let you top, and while he does enjoy that, he enjoys it just as much if not more when he does. He enjoys getting to look down at you, and see you come undone at his touch. Call it vanilla, but this man loves being able to watch your face during sex, being able to look into your eyes is a BIG thing for this man.

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldur's gate iii #astarion x mc #astarion x durge #astarion x tall tav #bg3 headcanons #astarion x reader #first headcanon post

58 notes · View notes

cakesandfail · 1 year

Text

Actually, I think what I want to talk about regarding Feet of Clay is something that's often overlooked, which is also my favourite thing to talk about regarding serious Discworld topics: Vetinari, and perception, and ableism.

In Feet of Clay, we're already seeing the turn from "let's get rid of the Patrician entirely, possibly by murder or at least Guild-approved inhumation" to "let's make him seem unfit to govern so that he has to step down, giving us a proper transition because we know everything will turn to shit if he's instantly gone." And that's progress of a sort, right? People are acknowledging his skill as a politician, and the fact that removing him from power with no plan for what comes next will cause the whole city to collapse.

But why do people want to say he's unfit to rule, specifically?

We know that at least some of the answer is that 'concerned citizens' think he's too soft on immigration, and he's not a king so why does he get to tell people what to do, and shouldn't he just rein Vimes in a bit instead of letting him go poking around in people's business. But I'm not sure that's the whole story.

What I would like to know is: why does this change to "make him look incapable" happen now? Is it coincidence that people make that switch once he starts walking with a cane? I don't know if it is.

On the one hand, they might have just given up. Even the gonne couldn't kill him, he's got a few people around him he can trust, maybe assassination isn't even worth trying any more. Things are stable, anyway, no point fucking everything up when you can have a nice, peaceful, planned transition of power to whoever is going to do what you want to do.

But on the other hand... Vetinari is disabled now. He uses a mobility aid. It's visible to everyone that he isn't the same as he used to be. I imagine the kind of people who don't want dwarves and trolls in the city, or who think that it's fine if poor people are treated like shit, are also not particularly liberal when it comes to disability too. Would it really be so hard to say "oh, well, he's not getting any younger... and of course with his bad leg..." and imply that any sudden decline in his physical or mental state is to be expected? That it's all just getting too much for him? An injury like that, well,he must be on some strong medication for the pain, surely? And so on. Putting the idea in people's heads that a disabled person in this job is at an automatic disadvantage- it doesn't matter if they actually believe it, personally, because the point is that somebody will.

And the thing is... it looks like kindness. It looks like acknowledgement of pain and understanding of new limitations. But having been on the receiving end of that shit, I can tell you it's not. It's an assumption that you are fundamentally Less Than, and that rather than using the people and things around you to maximise what you can do, you should just go away entirely.

Does any of this work? Nope. Is Vetinari aware of it and taking advantage of ableist assumptions? Yep. But those assumptions, I feel, still have to have existed in the first place if they're going to be disproved.

#gem rereads the watch #patricianblogging #discworld

314 notes · View notes

fili-urzudel · 4 months

Note

Hi I absolutely love your writing!!! Like seriously you have me smiling to myself hard I feel like an idiot lol. Anyway, can I request a romantic Kili with fake relationship + forehead touches? Bonus points if you add teasing brother Fili into the story too!

I love getting compliments like this omg! I'm so sorry that it took me so long to get this out for you and that I sort of left Fíli out (though whoever said this couldn't have a part two?).

When I put 50. under the meet cute prompt, I meant exactly that: you're strangers when one or the other of you finds yourself in need of a fake romance to escape some situation.

I also have Taylor Swift on the brain

9. Forehead touches (again yippee!)

12. Dancing (added this one)

50. Need a fake relationship immediately

Warnings: Dancing, being a little intoxicated, lying, reader describes self as a woman

Word count: 1.2k

Enchanted - Kíli Durin x Reader

It was nice to be recognized as equals by the dwarves of Erebor. This was what you reminded yourself as you leaned against a pillar in the back of the ballroom. It was nice that they were attempting to involve the people of Dale in their culture. It was nice that, after three years of instability, the two kingdoms could afford a night of leisure.

You had never really been one for parties. Talking got to be boring and stressful quickly, most of the eligible men had already picked their dancing partners, and you had made a promise to yourself to stay lucid. Unfortunately, dwarven liquor was quite strong, so you could only manage one drink for the time being.

You sighed, wondering if you had wasted too much time tailoring your dress for this event. If you had wasted too much time on practicing what few traditional dwarven group dances you could find information on.

As your eyes swept the room again, they landed on an attractive side profile. Dark hair with bangs, strong features, a dusting of stubble that you hadn't seen before but found appealing, and brown eyes—oh, no. You quickly glanced away, wondering how long you had been staring. You decided to risk raising your eyes again, in the hopes of appearing less awkward. He made eye contact once more, and smiled. It was a dazzling smile, one that you couldn't help but respond in kind to.

He was moving through the crowd before you knew it.

"I can see you're having just as much fun as I am," he said sardonically, and you chuckled.

"Never have I been so excited," you agreed with him.

"Well, there are ways to make the evening more interesting," he mused, and you wondered what he could mean. He glanced to the side, clearly recognizing someone, and he stepped closer, well within your personal space. "Are you a good actor?"

"What?" You asked in a daze. You feared your tipsiness dragging down your understanding.

"A dwarrowdam has been eagerly pursuing me for some weeks and she is beginning to refuse to believe that I have a partner."

"And do you?"

"No," he admitted, and the two of you laughed. "But you could help me uphold the lie."

You contemplated it for a moment. He was certainly more interesting than any man you had yet met. You would go so far as to say he was incredibly handsome. It was all almost enough to make you wish that his interest was more than just a ploy to escape an annoyance. But a dance partner was a dance partner.

"Dance with me," you offered, which earned you another bright smile.

"Of course, my lady," he held out his hand. You realized that neither of you had asked the others' names. Neither of you had offered.

You took his hand.

"Do you know this dance?" he asked.

"I practiced," you nodded seriously. "Just... never with someone who learned it traditionally."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said with another easy smirk. The violins signaled that you had no more time to wonder.

The dance would have been head-spin inducing even if you were sober, especially being the tallest among the dancers. That was rare for you. Still, the intertwined elbows, quick turns, and aisles of other dancers were a thrill, and you were glad to finally be able to participate.

You gave a hearty laugh as the dance finally came to an end with a stomp and a loud cheer. "I did it!" You said proudly, to no one in particular.

Your partner smiled along with you. "You did excellently!" His expression suddenly changed. "Here she comes," he muttered, and you were barely able to steal a glance before the mass of petticoats made herself known.

"My prince!" She said with fake politeness and a painted on smile. You did your best to hide your surprise. Prince? Was that only a pet name?

He did look awfully similar to your father's description of one of the dwarves that had paraded through Laketown, now that you thought of it. "May I ask who your lovely partner may be? It's quite unusual, men dancing with dwarves, don't you think?"

"Well, then it is a good thing I am a woman," you said, chuckling in a way that you hoped matched her energy. You introduced yourself. "Thank you for calling me lovely. I am courting this handsome dwarf!"

She glanced between the two of you, looking confused and mildly angry. She hid it surprisingly well. "Is this true?" She asked your partner, and he laughed nearly naturally.

"Of course it is! I keep telling you about her, and well, here she is," he gestured to you with his free hand.

"You never mentioned her name before," she insisted.

"She's a private, quiet maiden. Something I appreciate about her," he said, pushing more warmth into his voice. He was selling it very well.

She stood, upset, observing the two of you for another moment. Just as you were about to excuse the two of you, she spoke up again.

"Why is it that neither of you have courting beads?"

Your partner's mouth gaped for a moment, and you scrambled for a believable lie. What on earth and in the heavens was a courting bead?

"Ah, well, men's traditions are different, and I am waiting to give..." you realized you still didn't know his name. "...my love a bead of his own until I can learn to forge one well enough that it is an adornment rather than a burden."

"No matter how much I assure her that any gift from her is a treasure," he said with a smile, looking up at you.

You took the opportunity to hopefully shake his suitor for good. It was the least you could do for your new friend. You dropped your forehead against him, putting on your best lovesick smile. "You're too sweet, beloved."

"Well," the impatient dam huffed. "Congratulations."

Your hair blocked your view. "Is she gone?" You murmured, realizing you could feel his breath on your lips.

"Yes, I do believe you've rescued me," he chuckled, eyelashes fluttering at your closeness.

"My pleasure," you smiled, before remembering yourself. You straightened, allowing the two of you to clear the floor before the next dance. "Why did she call you Prince?"

"Ah, right," he cast his eyes to the floor. "I am Kíli Durin, Prince of Erebor. Not that it means much, since I'm not in line for the throne."

"Huh," you said simply, sure that if this were any other circumstance, you would be all but panicking. "Well, um, I believe I've already introduced myself, Your Highness. It's a pleasure to properly make your acquaintance."

The prince's face seemed to fall. "Come now, we don't need all of that," he assured you. "I much prefer for you to call me by anything other than my title."

You laughed. "What, like 'my love'?" You referenced your earlier bluff. "I don't suppose that would do for a man I just met."

You thought you perhaps could have seen his cheeks turn pink at the name. "Well, no, but Kíli is a perfectly acceptable middle ground."

"Nice to meet you then, Kíli."

"And it is an honor to meet you."

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #kíli x reader #kili durin x reader #kíli durin x reader #kili x reader fluff

128 notes · View notes

finnofamerica · 11 months

Text

Just Five Minutes More - Fili x Reader | Fluff

Summary: It'd been a long day for both you and Fili. You both just need each other to get through the night

Word Count: 618

Date Posted: 05.27.23

TW: AFAB language used

|| Masterlist || Request Here || Ask Me Stuff ||

Fili had had a long day of his princely duties. Meetings had dragged on and on. Thorin had yelled at him not once but three times that day. Fili felt awful, but he didn’t blame Thorin. The King was having a hard day too. The worst part was that the meetings hadn’t even felt productive. It was just around and around the table arguing the exact same points over and over again. It was exhausting.

You’d spent a long tiring day in the Erebor clothier. A cold running rampant under the mountain had befallen the other two seamstresses you worked with. They’d be fine, of course, but you had to pick up the slack for the time being. Thorin’s cloak wasn’t going to line itself, along with the six other projects that were piling up. The workload had started to become overwhelming, and you’d be a liar to say that you hadn’t locked yourself in the fabric closet to have a good cry.

By the time you could drag yourself back to your quarters, you wanted nothing but a good bath and to disappear deep beneath your thick blankets. You settled for crawling beneath your covers as the effort to draw a bath at the moment was just too much for you. Not even a full ten minutes after you had gotten comfortable did you hear a knock at your door. You groaned loudly as you approached the door, wanting to bang your head against it and curse whoever was on the other side.

“Fili?” As you pulled the door open, you asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I know it’s not proper, Y/n, to just show up at your door like this when we are unwed, but I needed to see my little hobbit. You’d not believe the kind of day I’ve had.”

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. You needed his touch and the feeling of his skin against yours. He stripped down just to the thin under fabric that acted as underwear, though dwarves were not known for their modesty. You copied him, stripping down to a thin slip dress with an open back. Fili climbed into bed, spooning you and tucking his head against your shoulder, just taking in the way that you smelt like freshly baked bread and lavender.

You’d always admired the way that Fili seemed to be fearless, even from the moment you’d met. He walked right up to you and asked your name and what had brought you to Erebor. Though he wasn’t as much of a relentless flirt as Kili had proven himself to be. He’d taken his time, ripping holes in his tunics and trousers just to have an excuse to visit you. Fili eventually asked you to accompany him for a drink.

Ever since that night, Fili had been smitten with you. It didn’t take him long to realize that you were the one for him. He carved you two beautiful beads, one a lion, representing himself as you saw him; one a sunflower, representing your beauty as he saw you.

You don’t know when you fell asleep with Fili’s thick arms wrapped tightly around you. You were woken by the rumbling in your stomach, having gone to bed without dinner the night before. You slowly tried to remove yourself from Fili’s grasp.

“No,” He groaned, pulling you tightly back against him, pecking kissed along your shoulder blades, “Stay…”

“Fi, I’m hungry. We didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Five more minutes, Amralimé. Then I will have the kitchens send up breakfast.”

You chuckled to yourself, loving the affection that he was showering you with. You let yourself relax further into his grasp.

“Five minutes.”

Tags: @missihart23 @bunson-burner

#fili x reader #fili durin x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fili #fili imagine

196 notes · View notes

the-pen-pot · 5 months

Text

(Bagginshield Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies fluff. 2,000 words. Read above on AO3 or click the read more ♥)

The Only Truth

Amidst the great Dwarven halls, with the strike of pick and hammer conducting the percussive beat of honest toil, music grew like weeds amidst freshly tilled soil. From their earliest days, crafting down in the dark, dwarves had lifted their voices in song, the caverns they carved into their mountainsides carrying the tunes from dawn until dusk. They sang, and the earth that cradled them sang back, sharing in their joys and sorrows.

To his shame, Bilbo had been surprised that the Company all played instruments. In his prejudice, he had failed to understand how a dwarf could be made rough and course by hard work, but still carry the grace in their fingers to play with any skill. They all soon proved him wrong. There was not a dwarf among them who did not seem to have a flute or pipe ferreted away in their pack, and they came out often, their tunes bright and cheery as they made their way over the land.

Yet it was only once they were back in Erebor that Bilbo realised that even their celebration of music had been whittled away by necessity. They had kept with them the instruments they could carry as they fled. Only now that the Lonely Mountain was slowly reclaiming its splendour did the Master Craftsmen turn their attentions to their heritage once more. Slowly, the voices of those dwarves hard at work and raised in song were joined by the tuneful dapple of strings and flutes and brass.

Still, to Bilbo, it felt as if one part of Erebor's great orchestral rebirth was missing. He knew, from stories told on the roads over Middle-earth, that Thorin, in his youth, had played the harp. Balin had confided in him, his eyes bright with recollection, how beautifully he had once played, before the dragon came and turned all he loved to ash. The instrument had been left behind amidst the embers of Thorin's old life: too big and unwieldy to be saved.

That was why he was here with Bofur, up in the wrecked remnants of the royal chambers, opening up old doorways and viewing the calamity confined within their walls.

'A right mess, this is,' Bofur murmured, his usual good humour eclipsed by the destruction. 'It'll take years to repair.'

'And Thorin has prioritised every other part of the mountain.' Bilbo sighed. He understood why he did it. Thorin's heart lay with his people. He did not care for the symbols of status that his grandfather had held in such high esteem. He would rather sleep on a rug before an open fire than live in luxury while his people went hungry.

Bofur grunted, and now, at last, there was a touch of a sparkle in his eye. 'He won't get a choice in the matter before long. For now, the dwarves arriving in Erebor are grateful for his humbleness, but soon they'll insist he climb back on his pedestal and stop getting his hands dirty. You'll have to soothe a lot of ruffled feathers.'

Bilbo cast a look in Bofur's direction, shaking his head before lifting his torch higher. 'That's why we're here, remember? To do something for Thorin, since he will not take the time to do it for himself.'

'First, we have to find the thrice-damned thing, assuming Smaug left any of it behind.'

That was a valid concern. Even here, after traversing the ruined, twisted staircase, made narrow and precipitous by Smaug's ruination, he could see signs of the dragon's invasion. Gouges scored the walls, disrupting the marble's exquisite sheen. Tapestries had been ripped from their moorings, their fine silks and gold thread hoarded amidst the mountain of treasure. Delicate glass windowpanes, worthless to the wyrm but expensive all the same, had been smashed in his wrath. What remained was a skeleton of grandeur, and one that would linger in its sad state for some time yet.

'Bilbo, here!' Bofur's voice was hushed, as if he had disturbed some poor soul's tomb.

Bilbo crept forward, lifting his lantern higher to let its light pour into the chamber he'd revealed. It was then, with a flash of grief, that he realised a body of a sort had found its rest here. The once graceful arch of a harp lay, its pillar broken and its soundboard cracked. Many of the strings had snapped or come loose from their pegs. It was a sad sight, but something in him rebelled, determined to find whatever small life might linger in the instrument's shattered frame.

'There must be something we can do.'

Bofur rubbed a finger up the bridge of his nose before adjusting his hat with his palm, his dark eyes black and thoughtful in the meagre light. 'I'm a toy-maker,' he pointed out. 'I don't think "we" is the word you're looking for, but...' He hunkered down, setting the lantern on the floor and sucking in a breath through his teeth. 'It's not rotten. That's a start. Looks like it was smashed against the wall. Key bits of the frame will have to be replaced, and that needs the right kind of wood and hands with the skill to fix it.'

'But it can be done?' He didn't mean to sound quite like that – achingly desperate – but the dwarf he loved carried a multitude of hurts. Not merely the physical ones, which had almost claimed his life, but ones upon his soul. This, Bilbo knew, was as much part of the healing as Oin's tinctures and constant nagging to rest and eat.

'Aye, I think so. It'll be a challenge, but I know more than one dwarf who lives for this sort of thing, and to do it for our King? They'll rise to the occasion.' Bofur gave Bilbo a look, full of the soft fondness of friendship. 'This was a grand idea, Bilbo. Leave it with me.'

It took time, as all such things did. True craftsmanship could not be rushed, and the broken body of Thorin's old harp was an invalid in need of delicate care. Bilbo dropped by often, nervous, at first, that Master Mothi would view his presence at an intrusion. However, the kind old dwarf, busily training an apprentice, was more than happy to talk about his craft as long as Bilbo kept his hands in his pockets.

'I remember when my master first built it,' he confided one day, as his gnarled hands stroked along the sound box, testing it for any small flaw that might break the harp's voice. 'The look on the face of the young prince as he played! I recall his only complaint was one he made to his mother, and that was a criticism of his grandfather's decorative taste.'

'How do you mean?'

'The old king had it carved and covered from crown to base in gold leaf. Delicate work. Challenging, too. It made the harp more fragile. The sound a touch less pure. My master was unhappy to do it, but we had our instructions.'

'No gold, this time,' Bilbo decided, feeling in his heart how Thorin would rather the wood's grain could shine through. He would wish the strings to sing with their truest voice, more admiring of the harp's function than its form.

'Perhaps an inlay, here?' Mothi stroked his palm down the front of the pillar. 'Something shallow, so as not to compromise its strength. I have a wonderful alloy: brass with a touch of mithril. It gives a wonderful sheen and need never be polished. Geometric, perhaps?'

Bilbo hid a smile before inclining his head. He had not wanted to say anything about the graceful lines of the harp, though he had noticed that there were some fundamental differences between the ones he had seen in Rivendell and this specimen. Even broken, he could tell Thorin's harp had a subtle angularity to its form, something sharper, where the elves favoured the sweeping curve.

'Will it be much longer?' he asked, eyeing the framework, which to him looked as good as whole, but as yet unstrung.

'Another week, maybe two.' Mothi gave him a knowing look. 'You cannot rush perfection.'

'And I would not wish you to. Thank you.'

He tried to set it from his mind, the secret slowly taking shape beneath Mothi's hands. During the day, when there was much to be done, he did a fair job. Yet it was in the evening, when he and Thorin retired to their shared chamber in the overseer's quarters that he felt the strange, amorphous absence of it. He observed how Thorin seemed to not know how to draw the boundary between work and rest. He carried his tension with him, his mind forever caught up in the needs of his kingdom without a moment of respite.

So it was that, the day the harp was ready, and stolen carefully into their chambers, Bilbo found himself alight with nervous anticipation. He hoped that this had been the right thing to do. He prayed that he was healing a wound in Thorin's being, rather than ripping off a scab to leave him bleeding anew.

'We need to finish treating with the merchant guild. They have their eye on the treasury, as always, but I will not allow them to –' Thorin's words stumbled to silence as he preceded Bilbo over the threshold. His next breath was an odd little hitch, as if his lungs had forgotten how to work, and Bilbo sank his teeth into his bottom lip, praying he had not made a grave mistake.

'This is...' Thorin swayed before stepping forward, reaching out with shaking fingertips to rest them against the harp's pillar like a healer checking for a pulse, reaching for the life that resided once more in the instrument's beautiful frame. The strings gleamed, waiting to be stirred into song, and Bilbo was almost sure he could hear them humming softly, like a cat purring in the presence of one who loved it. 'Where did you find this?'

'The Royal Wing.' Bilbo shifted forward. 'It had been broken and forgotten, but there was enough of it left to save.' He swallowed, thinking how those words were not for the harp alone. They could be said about the kingdom around them and the line that ruled it just as easily. 'Master Mothi remade it, keeping as much of the original as he could. I thought you deserved something out of all this that was yours alone.'

Thorin turned, sweeping Bilbo into his arms, his brow a warm press against Bilbo's own. It was an assertive embrace, as if Thorin were trying to press everything he could not put into words down into Bilbo's bones, and the kiss that followed it had Bilbo's toes curling against the flagstones.

'You like it, then?' he managed, delightfully breathless when Thorin reluctantly eased back, those rich blue eyes all softness and delight.

'More than almost anything, except for you,' Thorin promised, his voice low and resonant in a way that set love thrilling through Bilbo, spreading beneath his ribs to pool in the hollow of his belly.

'Will you play?' he asked, feeling as if it were some moment of truth. He had heard Thorin sing, his voice soft and deep, but this was another matter. He knew how talented those hands could be, and now he wanted to see them there, coaxing sound from an instrument that had been silent for far too long.

'It would be a crime not to, though I warn you, I am out of practice.'

Though Bilbo could well-believe the claim, he could hear no flaw in Thorin's playing. At first, perhaps, he was a touch hesitant, learning this old friend anew, but before long the music swelled around them, filling their chamber with its magic. It was not the ethereal, haunting melody of the elves, but something faster and deeper, the pitch of the harp more resonant: fitting for the booming mountain halls. It made Bilbo's heart race and quickened his blood. He let his eyes drift shut, the better to lose himself in the melody, and it was only when Thorin stopped that he opened them once more.

'That was beautiful,' he murmured, feeling a little drunk – transported to somewhere glorious by Thorin's playing.

'Would you like to learn?'

Bilbo's first thought was an instinctive refusal: the instrument too fine and his skill non-existent. Yet there was a gleam of something in Thorin's eye that made him think about how dwarves saw music – not as something to be performed for praise, but something to be shared with one another: the good and the bad. Skill was not as essential to them as the simple act of creation, and that was something he knew Thorin sought to share with Bilbo at every opportunity.

'I can't even read a stave,' he warned, reaching out to take Thorin's hand and allowing himself to be guided closer, to cradle the harp between his spread legs like a lover, and set hesitant fingers upon its strings.

'You don't need to. We rarely write down our songs. They are fluid things, learned and adapted, simplified and embellished.' Thorin stood behind him, bending to place his larger, broader hands over Bilbo's own. Warm, calloused fingers showed him how to move, teaching him where to pluck the strings and where to soothe them, leading him through it like he might lead a partner through a dance.

And so it was that, slowly, music raised its voice once more in the halls of the Lonely Mountain once more. The tune carried, bright and true, through the turn of the seasons until the melody of love at the kingdom's heart became a symphony of prosperity for the whole realm to enjoy.

For all the years to come.

#The Hobbit #Bagginshield #thorin x bilbo

43 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 9 months

Text

Never

It never crossed your mind that Thorin would make it back to the mountain to fall so suddenly. We burn together, a broken fragment of a sentence that choked you nightly when you would jolt up out of bed hearing it again. Gold still shifted, muttered conversations carried while you worked alone. Thorin in his final act shoved his nephews free of the flames and their mournful selves laid resting to let their bruised injured selves heal from the wounds gained in a landing inside an armory. Several times over they were impaled and cut in tries to scramble away from those flames and now the Elf King had been lenient after the dragon had reduced to dust under weight of the sea of gold Thorin let free to a skilled canon fired black arrow at the dragon’s belly.

Taps, soft and deliberate of the chisel and hammer in your hand, much like those of the toe of boots and hands on hilts of weapons for the Dwarf King who knew you startled on watch. So every night he would come to sit with you. Sit and tell you the most fantastic things about all the lands he had traveled and people in kingdoms you couldn’t dream of.

They had told you once in a casual mention that there was reason as to why all the statues of Dwarves were identical. No more. Just one more gentle knock of a stubborn bump away to perfect the outline of eyelashes that framed one of the Dwarf King’s impossibly blue eyes. “Oh,” you sighed. For a moment resting your chisel wielding hand atop the fur lining of his outer jacket he loaned you many a night insisting his people were built for the cold night air.

“Stubborn fool.” Those words more for yourself than him as you’d let yourself hope even for a moment things could have ended any other way than with you again in sights of a future alone and without use in another bustling city like the one you had been all but voted out of to be prey to Wraiths in search of revenge for one of their slain kin.

Dust and the fallen clump of this fine silvery green stone, broken off from a wall you’d chosen for this task, obscuring the face you had carved urged your lungs to fill. Right out the air came to puff the dust away. But just as sudden the blink of those eyes that began to bubble blue had you wobble on the crate you stood upon and fall backwards shrieking in fright. Noise of the gold and conversations halted, and just for a moment even the injured Princes turned their heads in the off putting silence before bodies turned and all the Dwarves came racing in case of danger, heard to lift weapons lying around to not be unarmed.

“Bunnanunê,” right apart his lips split to the bleed of a fleshy tone across the cheeks and forehead you labored days on worry spread across Thorin’s face. Raven black hair came to color out of the green stone just like the shade on the fur color of his coat. “Why are you frightened?” Up into the dark his same eyes so skilled to see through it his eyes moved to scan over the hall lit poorly by open bowl lanterns you had drug here around this ruined chunk of stone you hoped to make use of after it was shorn off a wall to block a path to the treasury. “Where is the dragon?!” barely above a whisper his voice dropped in worry and his body tried to jolt forward and take hold of you, assuming that must be why you were scared. The lack of movement from his knees down however had him halt and stare open mouthed in shock to find himself being carved out of stone.

“Lass!” several of the others shouted in a muddle of voices, only until they entered the doorway and dropped their weapons to name the living statue you still were splayed back across the cold dusty rubble coated floor staring up at. “Thorin…” many uttered to the stunned, now reborn Dwarf King who came to accept a hard truth he didn’t dare to dream might be true.

The rule being you never carve a Dwarf from stone outside the specified rules of design, to prevent heartbreak, as only their destined One could bring their fallen half back to life. Just as Durin was brought back three times by his One until they both passed together of old age into the halls of Mahal.

Bofur was kind enough to hasten over alongside Ori, to get you upright as the latter explained the rule that now had you marked to be their Queen. But only after you did one thing, you had to finish carving out his legs and feet. Jokes of shrinking or adding inches came and went while Thorin spent every moment possible to adore his treasured One until he could step off of this clump of stone and scoop your still mildly trembling self into his arms and never allow himself to be parted from you again.

@lilith15000 @theincaprincess @devilishminx328 @jesevans and adding @deepestfirefun

#Thorin x oc #Thorin x reader #the hobbit #thorin #erebor #lotr #sculptor reader #angst and fluff

57 notes · View notes

guardianofrivendell · 1 year

Text

One Morning in Laketown...

Fíli x OC Tullaina

Requested: no - requests are closed atm, this was written by me, for me

Warnings: awkwardness, pining, what is that ending though, this is not smutty 18+ but there is some morning excitement going on with Fíli fyi - also, I don’t know what pacing is so yes this feels rushed and unfinished (no pun intended)

Summary: Tullaina is cold, and Kíli thinks it’s the perfect opportunity to help his brother out. At least, that was the plan.

Tullaina fic timeline: between Slippery When Wet and When in Mirkwood - during the Quest

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: I’m alive! After almost 7 months of not being able to finish anything, I managed to get this out of my system. Did anyone ask for this? Of course not (no one’s waiting for OC content) and even I don’t know where it came from, but the idea kept bouncing around in my head so I had to write it down.

This was supposed to be a little haha fic about Fíli’s morning wood poking Tullaina but then somehow I dragged fluff, inner turmoil and a dash of angst into this to even things out I guess. Bon apétit!

Also yes, we can all acknowledge that I’m still bad with titles.

Laketown was grey, wet and cold. Even though the bowman had warned them it wasn’t a comfortable place to be, Tullaina had expected something a little more… dry.

The smell of rotted wood and mold hung heavy in the air as they settled in his living room, irritating her nose and throat and keeping her from taking deep breaths. But Bard’s house was a safe haven, at least for now, a chance to catch their breaths, fill their bellies and dry their clothes, so she shouldn’t really complain .

A warm and hearty dinner made the Company’s good spirits return, and with the mountain now within their reach and their strengths returned through food and rest, the room was filled with excited chatter and laughter.

Tullaina sat with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest and a knitted blanket thrown around her shoulders, watching their merrymaking with tired eyes.

Sigrid had suggested she’d sleep in her room, thinking she could use a little privacy away from her male companions, but Tullaina had politely declined. After what happened in Mirkwood, there was no way Thorin, Fíli, Kíli or any other member of the Company would let her out of their sight, not even for one second. And she felt the exact same way.

As the night progressed, one by one the Dwarves laid down to rest on the hard wooden floor, using the provided blankets and throws and whatever they could find to sleep on. Tullaina quickly followed their example, absolutely exhausted after their escape from the Mirkwood dungeons and travelling to Laketown, with Fíli and Kíli joining her not long after.

But sleep didn’t came as easily as she would have wanted. Despite the room being packed with Dwarves and a Hobbit and a still smouldering fire in the fireplace, she couldn’t seem to get warm. The humid air and the cold had crept into her tired bones, her toes were numb and every inch of skin was prickled with goosebumps. She couldn’t stop shivering, no matter what position she tried to sleep in.

After what seemed like hours of endless tossing and turning, Tullaina rolled onto her side, double-downed and clenched her eyes shut, wishing for warmth and sleep to come at last.

“Everything alright?” Fíli whispered, having noticed her shivering form. He was careful to keep his voice down, not wanting to wake up any of the others. But judging by their loud snoring, it would take a lot more than a hushed conversation to wake them up.

Tullaina pulled the knitted blanket a little tighter around her, and nodded. “Jus’ c-cold, is all.”

Fíli reached out and covered the hand that clutched her blanket, easily enveloping it in his own. “Mahal, you’re freezing!”

On her other side, Kíli turned around so he could face them. “You want my blanket?”

“N-no Kíli, I swear I’m f-f-fine. You need your own b-blanket.”

“Tulls, you’re clearly not fine, I can feel you shaking. Are your clothes dry enough?” Fíli asked, patting down the blanket to see if it turned damp. “Seems okay to me.”

“I told you I’m f-f-fine, Dwarves are warmblooded, I’ll warm up eventually,” she tried to reassure them. If only her teeth would stop chattering so she could actually try to get some sleep…

“That’s it!” Kíli yelled, immediately shushed by his brother, “don’t give me that look Fee, no one heard me. But Tulls is right, we are warmblooded. That’s what she needs, body warmth!”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Isn’t that obvious? See, that’s why I’m the smarter one out of the two of us. Fee, you need to share your blanket! Let her sleep against you so you can share your body warmth, she’ll be fine in no time and then we can all have a good night’s sleep.”

Fíli froze, immediately catching on to what his brother was trying to do and he opened his mouth a few times to say something, too stunned to speak.

Tullaina tried to ignore the stab in her stomach when she realised Fíli was mortified by the idea of sleeping under the same blanket. She didn’t understand, there had been lots of times during the Quest and back home where they’d cuddled close to each other, and for Durin’s sake, when they escaped Mirkwood that morning he couldn’t let go of her, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist for hours after, so why would he be so against the idea now?

“It’s fine, I-I can share with Kíli, I don’t mind,” she quickly suggested, trying to break the awkward tension.

“But I do!” Kíli protested quickly, “no offence Tulls, but I know you’re a heavy dreamer, I’m not looking to be kicked in the shins. Or worse.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Fíli stuttered after he found his voice again, “I’m sorry Tullaina, of course I’ll sleep with you-”

Both Tullaina and Kíli watched the colour drain from his face as his brain caught up with his mouth. They stared at him with wide eyes while Fíli prayed that the inside of Bard’s house was dark enough so no one could see how flushed he was. “I mean- I don’t… That’s not… I- I’ll shut up now.”

He moved closer towards Tullaina, close enough so he could throw part of his blanket over her but still keeping enough distance between their bodies so his mother would be proud of him.

“Is this okay?” he asked with a hushed voice, “I can move if you want.”

“Fíli, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Tullaina hummed, instantly relaxed by the extra warmth and comfort radiating from him, and she could feel her eyelids getting heavier by the second.

“Now that everyone’s settled and comfortable, can we finally go to sleep?” Kíli’s voice sounded from behind them, and Fíli muttered a good night in return. He noticed Tullaina remained silent, her breathing already evened out. The shivers had stopped, but Fíli still pulled his part of the blanket off of him and covered her with it, keeping none for himself.

It was still early when Tullaina woke up, feeling well-rested and warm. She could hear soft snoring right next to her, and as she slowly opened her eyes, she was greeted with Fíli’s sleeping figure. Their noses almost touched, they were that close to each other and she could feel his breath brush her lips with every sigh.

Even though the room was still shrouded in the night’s darkness she could see the outlines of his face perfectly. His long nose, his moustache braids she knew he was so proud of, the lines around his mouth and eyes - the ones she could read like a map, every little skin crease depicting a different emotion, a different meaning behind them - now smoothed underneath the promise of a safe night. Her fingers twitched, eager to stroke the stray hairs out of his face, his usually well-kept braids untangled, a reminder of their flight from Mirkwood, making him look more like Kíli than he would have wanted.

She shouldn’t.

They were about to reclaim Erebor, their long lost home and it would change everything. But it was their home, not hers.

They were actual royalty for Mahal’s sake, and the closer they came to ending their quest, the more she realised that she was going to lose them. She didn’t belong in their world, or at their side. She, an orphaned daughter of an Ered Luin seamstress and a miner, had no place beside the throne. When everything was over and settled down, she would make the journey back. Alone.

After all, princes didn’t make friends with commoners and they certainly didn’t court or marry them. They would forget her soon enough.

Tullaina sighed and turned on her other side, wanting to put as much distance between them as she could. She shouldn’t think about her goodbyes just yet, they had a dragon to slay first.

Before she was able to inch further away, Fíli grunted and draped a large arm over her middle, pulled her closer and pressed his broad frame against her back. She froze at the sudden proximity and tried to fight her initial reaction of melting into him and folding her arms over his. What would the others think if they woke up and found them like this? Spooning?

But those concerns were quickly pushed to the back of her mind when she noticed something else, something very prominent and very much awake.

She knew what it was, she wasn’t a little pebble anymore, but knowing about it and feeling it pressed against your butt were two totally different things.

Fíli would probably die of embarrassment if he knew and Tullaina was sure she would be right behind him at this point. She tried to carefully squirm her way out of his arms, without waking him up, but his hold on her was too tight. In any other situation she would’ve been flattered, excited even, knowing that he didn’t want to let her go, but now she wished she had accepted Sigrid’s offer.

All her wiggling and squirming to get away only made it worse and Fíli more excited. There was no other option but to wait for him to wake up, hoping none of the others would do so first.

And for once, luck was on her side because a few minutes later, Fíli started to stir. Tullaina patted his arm softly and whispered his name, trying to get him to let go before he realised what kind of predicament he had put them in.

Fíli heard the slight panic and worry in her voice and wrongfully assumed there was danger looming. In an instant he went into full protective mode and pulled her closer against him, tightening his hold on her, shielding her body with his own. He groaned and bucked his hips involuntarily as Tullaina’s body made contact with his hardness, and that’s when he realised to his horror what was going on.

He immediately let her go, his body jolting back as if she’d burned him. By doing so, he bumped into a sleeping Kíli, who was up in a second, startled by the sudden action of his brother. The yelps of both princes alerted Thorin, who was usually a light sleeper, whose movement woke Bilbo and in just a few seconds, the whole Company was awake.

Fíli scrambled to his feet, muttering apologies as fast as he could, not knowing where to look. Tullaina was just as mortified as him, and trying to escape the questioning looks of everyone she quickly excused herself, mumbling something about helping Sigrid with breakfast, even though none of the Bardlings were awake yet.

Kíli and the others watched her dash out of the living room, but no one dared to comment. Thorin eyed his nephews carefully, but decided to let it slide for now. If it was important, they would come to talk to him eventually.

Fíli was still panting and beet red when Kíli came up next to him.

“That went well, didn’t it?” he commented, as they watched everyone getting ready for breakfast, the previous scene already forgotten.

If looks could kill, the youngest Durin prince would’ve died on the spot, twice. Fíli muttered something about needing some air and stomped out of the house into the cold morning air.

Kíli sighed heavily and pouted his lips, looking at the pile of blankets on the ground.

“Another good plan gone to waste.”

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @the-banannah @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @elvish-sky @moony-artnstuff @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @hey-its-nonny @beenovel @cassiabaggins @shethereadinghobbit @justfollowtheroad @laurfilijames @fizzyxcustard @brokennerdalert @linasofia @naimadrawsstuff @errruvande @amaryllis23 @enchantzz @narniaandthenorth @sketch-and-write-lover @blairsanne @ruthoakenshield @midearthwritings @alone19-24 @medusas-hairband @ren-ni @kyramaximoff @megnotfound @middleearthpixie @aduialel @tree0frog @trappedinlimbo15 @brethil13

Fíli taglist: @bluewingedangel @spidergirla5 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @clumsy-wonderland @i-always-come-back-xoxo

#fili x tullaina #fili #tullaina #fili x OC #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #fili durin #fili x reader #the hobbit ones #the hobbit fanfic #guardianofrivendell #lotr #kili #the company #the company of thorin oakenshield

110 notes · View notes

delicatenightfury · 1 year

Text

Tell Her

2022 Month of Writing: Day 14

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 1,441

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

Erebor was stunning. The great hall was beautifully lit, shining light on the wealth that the dwarves had in their kingdom. A great feast lay out on the tables, which were surrounded by merry dwarves already deep in their cups. Music and laughter filled the hall, making it feel even more lively. Everyone was enjoying themselves and the celebration.

Everyone except Thorin.

He kept up the appearance of a happy prince, but his mind lay elsewhere. It was hard to believe that while such a celebration went on in front of him, he would rather be somewhere else.

Or rather, with someone else.

His mind drifted off to y/n, and not for the first time that night.

y/n was a truly familiar face to him. She was a servant in Erebor, and had been for many years. She took care of Dís’s chambers and frequently spent time with the princess. Meaning that Thorin saw her quite often.

When he first met her, she had been soft-spoken and reserved. But as they interacted more, she grew out of her shell (with some encouragement from Dís). y/n was brilliant. She brought a warmth to a room that a fire could not. Her smile and laugh never failed to make Thorin do the same. She was well read and knowledgeable, but also very curious. Thorin often found himself telling her stories about his trips he would take with his family outside the mountain.

There were some that might have found the friendship between the young royals and a servant to be odd, unbecoming, or scandalous even. But the Durins had little care. y/n practically grew up with them and because she spent so much time around Dís, she spent time with the princes too.

“You’re distracted,” Frerin said, nudging his brother. “If you don’t smile, people might start to think you’ve turned to stone. They might try to come at you with chisels and picks just to see if you still live beneath the rocks.”

“Very funny,” Thorin replied, chuckling slightly at Frerin’s antics.

“What’s on your mind? Or should I ask who?”

“Hush, brother. You need not concern yourself.”

Frerin lifted his hands in surrender, but smiled.

“Just trying to help.”

He stayed silent after that. Thorin glanced at Frerin for a moment, skeptical of him actually being done. When he didn’t say anything, Thorin turned away. He lifted his cup to his lips and took a drink.

“So you’re sure you’re not thinking of anyone?” Thorin struggled not to choke on his drink. “You all right, Thorin?”

He shot Frerin a glare as he swallowed.

“Fine. If I answer your question, will you stop pestering me?”

“Perhaps. One way to find out.”

Thorin sighed.

“I would rather not be here tonight. And before you ask why,” he shot Frerin a knowing look - his brother already had his mouth open to speak, “I wish I was in better company.”

“Like y/n?”

“...Aye.”

“You know, it seems like you’ve been having these kinds of thoughts a lot lately.”

Thorin looked at his brother, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“You just seemed very distracted lately. Father has noticed it. Dwalin and Balin have both made comments. Dís and I have seen it too.” Thorin looked down. He hadn’t realized how much his thoughts had been consuming him recently. He didn’t know that others had taken notice. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Thorin sighed and took another sip of his drink, carefully thinking over his words.

“It’s y/n,” he said.

“Well I figured that.”

“I find myself missing her presence, her intelligence, and her wit. She is fun to be around and is challenging in the best ways. I can’t seem to truly put into words what it is I feel, but my time spent with her never truly feels like enough.”

“So you’ve taken a liking to her.”

“Of course I have. She is our friend.”

“He means more than a friend, you thick headed oaf.” The brothers turned to find that Dís had joined them. She smiled at her oldest brother. “You’re different around her, Thorin. It’s refreshing to see.”

Thorin stood quietly after that. He thought back to all of his shared moments with y/n. He greatly enjoyed those moments he got to spend with her. Sometimes, he even had the opportunity of being with her without Dís being present. Their shared moments were ones he had grown to cherish.

“So what are you going to do?” Frerin asked, bringing Thorin out of his thoughts again.

Thorin looked between his younger siblings, who were staring at him expectantly. He went to say something, but Dís quickly interrupted him.

“If you say anything other than ‘tell her how I feel,’ I’m going to hit you.”

Thorin stared at her for a moment, taken aback by her words.

“I’m not sure what I can say,” he said slowly.

“Tell her what you’re feeling!”

“Despite what I might be feeling for her, I can’t. She is your servant, Dís, and I am a prince. Our father and grandfather would never approve.”

“Except they do.”

“What?”

Frerin smiled.

“I’ve already talked to them. They’ve noticed your behavior as of late and asked me if I knew what was going on. I told them that you fancied y/n.”

Thorin stared at his brother. He could feel the heat rising in his face, though he couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger.

“Frerin,” he growled.

“She likes you too.”

Thorin stopped again and looked at Dís. She was smiling innocently at him.

“What?”

“What do you think we talk about, Thorin? She’s asked about you countless times and I eventually asked her if she was interested. Funny enough, she’s had similar thoughts to you. You know, the whole ‘I’m a servant, he’s a prince’ argument.”

“We can all see you like each other,” Frerin said. “And if you need more people to say it for you to really believe, then we can definitely find some people to convince you.” Thorin shook his head. “Good.”

“Listen, Thorin.” Dís grabbed her brother’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I understand what thoughts you’re having about the situation. But the people around you can tell how much you love her. And we approve. That should tell you something.”

His siblings gave him a minute to process the information they had given him. It all felt so hard to believe.

Thorin looked back at his siblings, but something behind them caught his eye. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

y/n was walking through the crowd, dressed in a beautiful (favorite color) dress. She looked a little uncomfortable, but she had never been part of a celebration like this, so he found it understandable. He also thought she looked cute with the little lost look on her face. Dwalin then approached her, giving her someone familiar to talk to.

“She looks beautiful tonight,” Frerin said suddenly. Thorin glanced at him. “You should go to her.”

“Of course she looks beautiful,” Dís said. “I helped her get ready. Not that she needed much help; I just helped enhance her natural beauty a little bit.” She nudged Thorin with her arm. “But he’s right. Go to her. She knows how you feel about her too. That’s why she’s here.”

Thorin nodded slightly. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her. She looked stunning. Her smile seemed to light up the room as she talked with Dwalin, and Thorin thought he could see her bright eyes from where he stood.

He set down his drink and started walking toward her. He watched Dwalin glance at him, say something to y/n, then step away. y/n turned around and smiled when she saw Thorin approaching her. She curtsied a little.

“My prince,” she said.

“My lady,” he said, giving a bow in response.

“I’m afraid I’m no lady. At least not in the sense you speak of.”

He could sense the underlying meaning behind her words - I’m a servant, you’re a prince.

Thorin gently took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand.

“You will forever be a lady in my eyes,” he said. “And if you are willing, be my lady? My love?”

“You’re sure?”

“More than anything. And I’m afraid my siblings will riot if we choose anything less.”

“And we can’t have that now, can we?” y/n smiled at him. “I would love that, Thorin. As long as I get to call you mine as well.”

“I would love nothing more, my love.”

#month of writing #writing prompt #Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin #Thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin x reader #hobbit #pre smaug #erebor #frerin durin #frerin #dis durin #fluff #tolkien

230 notes · View notes

animatorweirdo · 7 months

Text

When the dragons fly

You reminisce about the past, which leads you to an awkward predicament. Aelon is frightened as his dreams seem to become a reality.

Chapter 7

Warnings: mentions of loss of childhood, some PTSD moments, social awkwardness, disappearances, hypnosis, violence, blood, kidnapping, and falling.

---------------------------

You walk up to the balcony of the tavern. You leaned your arms against the wooden railing and looked down upon the people below you. Elves, humans, and dwarves crossed the streets. The city was small and diverse. It nearly reminded you of King’s Landing, except without the elves and dwarves.

You look over to the mountains, thinking about a moment you once had with your father when you were a young little girl who recently bonded with a dragon.

You remember your father taking you to the garden where you could almost see the whole city and hear the soldiers training in the courtyard. You were curious back then as you looked down on the soldiers and guards.

“(Name),” Your father said.

“As you can see, the training will be difficult. I will not go easy on you because you are my daughter. You will need to train as hard as them because one day, they will follow your orders on the battlefield,” your father stood beside you.

“They might doubt you and look down on you because you are a girl. They have been taught from a young age that girls and women do not belong on the battlefield, but I do not believe in such a thing. I think you have the potential to become an excellent commander, so prove them wrong and work hard to earn their respect,” he explained. “I will father!” you looked up to him in admiration.

“I will be the best commander you have ever seen!” You said with excitement, making him smile. “I hope so too, but we’ll have to wait till you’re older. You’re still young, so enjoy it while you still can,” he said as you began to walk through the garden.

“I can’t wait! When I get big, will we fight the bad guys and save people from trouble? Oh, Can I get to save a prince from a tower?” you asked enthusiastically.

“A prince from a tower? Now, where have you heard such a thing like that?” your father looked at you perplexed. “Well– you always hear about princesses getting kidnapped and taken to a tower as a hostage, so don’t you think it would be nice if a prince gets kidnapped this time?” you asked. He burst into laughter.

“That… would be interesting, and what then, you get happily married?” he asked. “Maybe— I don't want anyone to pick my prince for me. I want to find my own prince!” you firmly stated.

“We’ll see when you get older. You will be busy with the training, so your search for a prince might have to wait,” your father chuckled, patting your head. “That’s okay. I’m in no rush. I can always find him later. Do you think Baleria would like him?” you asked. “Who knows? It will depend on Baleria alone if she likes your prince or not,” your father explained.

“Are you certain I can become a commander? Mother doesn’t seem to like the idea,” you asked as you began leaving the garden.

“She’s just worried like always. You will be fine. I’ll make sure you will be strong enough to handle everything that comes your way in life,” he said. “Everything?” you looked at him curiously. “Everything— you will be strong enough to survive even the most violent of wars,” he said as you left the garden to join your mother for dinner.

You came back to reality and continued staring at the people below you. Oh, how naive you used to be back then. You almost miss it — being innocent and living in blissful ignorance.

Your battles with the bad guys were simply the eradication of rebels and people who sought to strike down the Targaryen house, and you barely helped people out of trouble because your family members did not want you to make them look soft. And you never got to save a prince from a tower, which was a shame.

All these things were just empty words to hide the brutal reality. It made you wonder if your father truly wanted you to become a commander and take his place once he was gone or if he just wanted Baleria on the battlefield.

You wished you could ask him, but that was beyond your capabilities. You might have survived the horrible ordeal to come to Middle Earth, but bringing someone back from the dead required more than simple luck.

You heard something ramble inside the tavern. There were heavy thuds and yelling of angry men. You stood up and made your way down from the balcony. Whatever your father would have said. It didn’t matter anymore. But you should check on Helena and her brother since he tends to get himself into trouble.

You opened the door, looked inside, and then walked over to the bar table where Helena was seated as men laughed and yelled in the tavern with the smell of alcohol lingering in the air.

You sat down next to Helena. “Is your brother up to something again?” you asked as you both observed Mika playing a game with other men, drinking and laughing. “Just being an idiot like usual. I swear if I have to drag him back home drunk. I’m going to make him sleep in the stables,” Helena uttered in annoyance, making you chuckle at the thought.

“Oh,” Helena stood up when you two saw Mika starting up some racket. “I knew it! We should have brought someone else because my brother is just too useless to be of any help,” She said, then went quickly after her brother to calm down a possible tavern fight.

You observed, your mind returning to the days when you ended up in some tavern fights thanks to your men and position as a woman. Some men in Westeros always had a problem with you being a woman and a commander, so you got challenged fairly often whenever you traveled or just wanted a break.

Life wasn’t easy in Westeros, especially if you were a woman.

Your mind wandered deep as you remembered those violent times when you had to fight for your safety and honor. You could almost hear the sounds of men screaming and the swords clashing with each other. It left you thoughtless of everything around you.

The door of the tavern opened. Three elves walked inside, two of them wearing tired and grim expressions while following the silver-haired elf. “Come now, brother. One little drink hurts nobody, especially after a successful hunt,” he started with a grin.

"I wouldn't mind if this place wasn't filled with so many humans. You know I prefer to be at home drinking than come to a tavern in a rundown city," one of them said. "Oh, don't be such a brood. If you're bored, how about talking with some lovely maidens?" the silver head spoke. "I doubt anyone would be interested in talking with you, Tyelko," the third one of the group stated.

"Wanna bet, dear little Carnistir? For your knowledge, I can be very charming when it comes to lonely maidens,” the silver head said confidently. "I pity the maiden you decide to bother," Carnistir said.

The blond-haired elf looked around till his eyes fell upon your figure, sitting at the bar table alone. “Ah ha, now watch and see,” he said before approaching you, making his two brothers roll their eyes.

You were still so deep in thought that you did not notice him approach you from behind. Your mind was still thinking about your old days of wars and survival. “Hello there-!” Tyelko gently touched your shoulder, and your mind flashed to a memory where you nearly got killed by an assassin who attempted to slice your neck from behind.

Out of reflective instinct, you swiped your healthy arm behind his head and smashed his face against the table. A loud bang echoed through the tavern, gaining people’s attention while you kept a tight grip on the stranger’s face. It took you a moment to realize the situation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you pulled your hands away in panic. “I wasn’t paying attention, and you– you startled me,” you almost stuttered in your words as the silver-haired elf picked himself up from the table, rubbing his swelling face.

“No worries, but – my, you sure have a strong grip, my lady,” he groaned painfully, then looked at you. “And you’re a human maid, I see. I apologize,” he said and walked away. You looked at him before turning back and feeling your face burn with embarrassment.

The two that waited at the door looked at the silverhead as he returned with a bruise on his face. “So much being a charmer,” one of them said while Carnistir snickered after witnessing the whole thing. “Yeah, yeah, let us just go. I changed my mind. The wine at home is far better than the liquor here,” he said. “Yeah, right,” the two rolled their eyes while following him out of the tavern.

A red-haired elf was waiting outside, petting his horse. He looked up when he saw the door open and noticed his companions walk out. “What happened to you?” he asked after noticing a bruise on the silver head’s face.

“Tyelko over here thought it would be a good idea to ‘charm’ a maiden. Only to have his face pushed on the table after scaring one,” one of them explained as they climbed back on their horses.

“That’s new,” he said, looking at the silver head with amused eyes.

Tyelko groaned. “Let us just go. It was surprising that she was a human, though. I thought she was an elf maiden with that kind of appearance,” he said while his companions only shook their heads at him. They clicked their heels and rode away from the tavern.

You hear horses outside the tavern, so you guessed the blond elf and his companions left. It gave you some relief since most men in Westeros did not like having their pride hurt and would come back for a payback. You were glad since you preferred to avoid conflict, but it did not save you from the embarrassment since you did slam someone’s face on the table out of nowhere.

It was so dreadful that you had to order a drink to ease the embarrassment. You groaned against your hand. This was not how you had planned your visit to go.

Helena returned to you, holding Mika’s ear after pulling him out of trouble. “And stay put!” she forced him to sit on a stool before looking at your slouched-down form. “What happened? I noticed your face slammed someone on the table?” she questioned.

“Please. Do not ask,” you groaned while considering your life choices.

Aelon tosses around on his bed. His brows and nose frown and squint while frightful yelps escape his mouth. His mind wanders into a familiar dreamscape.

He was back in the forbidden forest, standing in the middle of the opening with nothing but crows and ravens flying above him, cawing and making noises that sounded like laughter. He was shaking as he stared at them with fright.

Familiar music filled the air. Aelon gasped and looked around for the source. The strange melody tried to calm down his nerves, but ever since he saw the face of the warg, he was always filled with uncontrollable unease.

He stood back when he saw the familiar dark figure playing the flute. “Go away!” he yelled, fearing to see its face again. “Please—!” he begged.

Shrieks suddenly filled the air. Aelon jolted and then saw his dragon flying above him. His dragon was frantically flapping his wings, screaming at him in fright and worry.

“Falconer, what’s wrong?!” Aelon yelled.

He then turned around and found the dark figure standing right in front of him again. His breath was stuck in his throat as he looked into those familiar white eyes. He screamed when the figure grabbed him.

He jolted from his bed, gasping and feeling beads of sweat running down his skin. He looked outside and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything looked normal.

He thought about his recurring nightmare. It had been two days now. He didn’t know why he kept dreaming about the forest, the terrifying figure, and the song that kept playing inside his mind. He didn’t know what to make of it and why it felt more real than it looked.

The only different thing that happened was Falconer appearing in the dream.

You once told him dreams could hold strong meanings and even be signs of the future, but he didn’t feel like it was showing him anything. It felt more like a punishment for his misbehavior.

He sighed and tossed the blanket away, getting up to prepare for the day.

The hairy part of the broom sweeps across the wooden porch, pushing away the yellow dust and leaves that flew with the wind. Aelon jolts when he sees the village’s watchmen yell and move around in panic.

They were yelling something and ordering each other to find more people. It was so sudden, and the frustration in their voice nearly startled him. He had never seen them act like this before. He then noticed Eweniel running up to him.

“Ae! Have you heard?” she questioned with a worried tone. “Heard what? What has happened?” Aelon asked, confused and concerned. “It's Samuel. He has gone missing,” she replied. Aelon’s eyes widened.

“Missing? How did that happen?” he asked. Eweniel shrugged her shoulders. “No one knows. He was with Ramuel, then poof. He was gone,” she explained while flailing her hands in an example. “No traces of him. He just vanished in the air,” she added.

“His parents are not letting Ramuel leave the house. They’re afraid he’s gonna go missing too,” she said while Aelon wondered about his friend. “But how?” Aelon muttered. “I don’t know, but Ramuel said he heard some kind of music before Samuel disappeared,” Eweniel answered. Aelon paled when she mentioned the music.

“I sneaked here to see you so I could warn you. Be careful and do not go into the woods,” Eweniel left before Aelon could ask more about the music.

He thought about the music he had been hearing and how he was always enchanted to follow it in his dreams. It led him to the forest and then to the monster, and then the nightmare usually ends. Did it happen to Samuel? Was this happening outside his dream?

“What’s the matter, little Targ?” Dwenn’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. Aelon looked at the older man. “You look troubled. Is there something on your mind?” Dwenn asked. “Is Samuel really missing?” Aelon asked, hoping it was just a mere conscience.

“I’m afraid so –” Dwenn answered with a pitiful look. “His parents are fearful to let Ramuel go outside. They fear he will vanish as well, especially when he mentioned something about music he heard before his brother’s disappearance,” he explained.

“Say… Aelon. Didn’t you once mention hearing something the day when (Name) left?” Dwenn asked. Aelon hesitated to answer. He wasn’t certain if he should tell about it, but he didn’t want to lie either. “I don’t know…” he uttered. “What did the music sound like?” he questioned. “No one knows. Ramuel described it as beautiful and loud, but no one else could hear it,” Dwenn described. “We better get some more wood and call it a day. Samuel’s parents have asked everyone to participate in the search,” Dwenn walked toward the chopping place.

Aelon felt dread since the chopping place was near the woods, where he heard the music and nearly got tempted to go there. “Can we not go there today?” he quickly asked. “What if I vanish next?” he questioned fearfully.

“It should be fine. We only need a couple of blocks,” Dwenn said, trying to comfort him. “I keep a careful eye on you, then escort you back to Helena’s family,” he patted Aelon’s shoulder. “Does that sound good?” he asked.

Aelon wanted to say no– but couldn’t bring himself to utter the word, so he nodded and walked with Dwenn to the chopping place.

“Unbelievable, first the wells dry up, you get attacked by a warg, and now children are going missing,” Dwenn started as they walked. Aelon thought about the creature from his dream. “What if someone is doing this?” he asked. “What if someone is playing music to lure us away?” he added. “That... would make sense, but who would do such a thing?” Dwenn asked. “Maybe a foul spirit of sorts?” Aelon suggested. “Perhaps, but we need to be careful,” Dwenn said as they arrived to the chopping place.

“We just need a couple of things. Help me gather some planks and stay in my sight,” Dwenn said strictly. “Okay…” Aelon nodded and began helping gather the planks. He glanced toward the forest that wasn’t too far from him. He felt unease, and his imagination only made him wait for something to come out, like a warg or the creature from his dreams.

But when something didn’t come out and a few minutes passed, Aelon shook his head and tried to stop thinking. His imagination was making him paranoid. Perhaps there wasn’t a flute-playing monster. Perhaps Samuel’s disappearance was just a coincidence. He will see once he carries the planks back to Dwenn’s shop and spends the day inside Helena's home.

Aelon relaxed himself and tried to continue helping Dwenn.

Something then filled his ears. Aelon gasped and covered his ears when he realized it was the music of the flute. He was ready to call out to Dwenn, but something within his mind held him back like he didn’t have to do anything.

The peaceful tune softly calmed down his racing heart. The fear in his mind vanished, and an odd sense of longing filled his heart. The longing to find and hear the music.

Aelon tried to resist when he remembered all the nightmares, but then the music’s tone turned softer and assuring. It was a new tone. He began to feel like he had nothing to be afraid of.

He looked toward the forest, and his longing and desire to find the music became more stronger. His mind fell into a daze. The wooden planks dropped from his hands as he could no longer resist and slowly walked toward the forest.

“Aelon?” Dwenn questioned when he heard something fall. He looked around, finding no sight of the blond-haired boy. “Aelon?” he called out again. “Little Targ?” he called out louder. “Aelon!” he yelled in a rising worry.

Aelon’s shoes stepped across the mossy ground. Crows and ravens flew above him, watching him as the flute’s song led him through the forest.

Aelon couldn’t think of anything. Everything was blank and empty. All he could think about was the soft, beautiful music that filled his ears, deafening everything around him. It sounded so wonderful.

The song led him to a familiar clearing. He saw someone sitting on the rock, wearing a cloak and playing the flute. He stared at them in a daze as they continued playing.

They looked similar to the monster from his dream, yet nothing alike. They wore a familiar cloak but did not have antlers or claws. Their hands were pale yet normal.

Aelon stopped before them and stared at them with wonder. They were playing the silver flute beautifully, and the music allured his very being. There was a strange feeling in his mind, like a voice telling him to stop and run away, but the music was beautiful, so he ignored it. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to hear more.

The strange person stopped playing when they noticed him. The music still echoed in Aelon’s ears as he looked at the person who stood up and hovered over him like a tree. He saw red eyes look down on him and sharp teeth that formed into a toothy grin as the person held their hand above him.

Aelon didn’t do anything as the hand approached his face till someone shouted.

“Get away from the boy, you fiend!” Dwenn tried to strike the person with the hatchet. The hooded figure quickly avoided the older man, and Aelon was snapped out of his trance by the sudden intrusion.

“Dwenn?” Aelon questioned as the older man stood in front of him, keeping a protective hand over him. His heart began to race when he saw the hooded strange crouch on the stone, silently hissing at them.

“Get back to the village, Aelon! Run!” Dwenn threw the hatchet around, making the hooded figure back away with a hiss.

Aelon backed away, fear taking over his every thought. “Run, Aelon! Run!” Dwenn yelled as the hooded stranger’s body suddenly sprouted wings and separated into a swarm of giant bats. The creatures attacked Dwenn, clawing and biting his skin.

Dwenn screamed as one of the bats latched onto his face, plunging its fangs into his eye. Aelon gasped in horror when he saw blood gush from the older man’s eye.

“Go!” Dwenn yelled while trying to fight off the bats.

Aelon hesitated but then turned around and tried to run back toward the village – only to be grabbed from behind and picked up. “No! Dwenn!” Aelon screamed, trying to struggle out of his taker’s arms.

“No!” Dwenn yelled when he saw Aelon taken by another hooded figure. He fought and tried to run after, but the bats then pushed him down. He screamed and struggled as the swarm tore his skin open, dressing the moss in his blood. Aelon screamed in terror when he saw the horrific scene happen.

“Someone help! Please help us! Help!” Aelon struggled, kicked, and cried as the person behind him took him deeper into the forest.

Falconer snapped open his eyes and picked up his head from the ground. He cried, sensing immense fear and distress. He shrieked in fright and stomped toward the entrance of the cave.

Baleria picks up her head and growls at the younger dragon, preventing him from going any further. Falconer screamed back at her, groaning and chirping in distress. Low crumbles left Baleria as the two stared at each other.

In the forest, Aelon yelled and tried to kick himself free from his captor’s arms, crying in fear, anger, and sorrow for Dwenn’s fate. The memory of Dwenn’s blood painting the ground and his screams of pain haunting his mind.

“Stop moving around, brat!” A rough voice shouted in his ear, and he felt his hair pulled harshly. Aelon cried in pain from the sharp pain in his scalp. He then heard shrieks in the sky and looked up.

His beloved dragon was flying above them, roaring and keeping his eyes on them.

“Falconer!” Aelon called out. He felt hopeful but also worried since the sight of his dragon reminded him of his dream.

Falconer screamed back in return, trying to follow him and his captor.

Aelon watched as his dragon flew above the trees. The forest was too dense for Falconer to fly down and try to attack since he could get caught by the branches. Aelon did not want to see his dragon to get injured, but neither did he want to end up where his captor was taking him.

Aelon’s captor made twists and turns, trying to lose Falconer. Aelon felt sick from being carried and tossed around so much, but he felt comforted his dragon managed to keep up despite the trees keeping them apart.

Falconer flew ahead and then swooped down after finding an opening and a chance to stop his rider’s captor.

Aelon’s captor stopped in their tracks when Falconer flew in front of them, his claws ready to grab them, but then Aelon’s captor grabbed someone from their pouch and threw it right into Falconer’s face.

Falconer shrieked by the sudden attack to his eyes and missed Aelon’s captor and Aelon by an inch. Aelon watched as his dragon crashed against some trees and fell to the ground.

“No! Falconer!” Aelon yelled, trying to get himself free. The rough-voiced creature only held a tighter grip on the boy and continued the run, taking him away.

Falconer chirped and croaked painfully after standing up from the crash. He groaned and tried to smudge off the dark matter from his eyes. The white dragon shrieked in anger and panic, unable to continue the chase and save his rider.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn @kimnamnu @thatrandomidiot182

#silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #middle earth x reader #when the dragons fly #hotd x reader #hotd #middle earth #silmarillion imagines #middle earth imagines #various reader #targaryen reader

20 notes · View notes