#Azog's Legion

[blankdblank]

Divided

Separated outside the Goblin Tunnels and badly injured from taking Azog over the side of that cliff all you had to go off of was what you had been told of the lands ahead of you. Found and healed by the Lorien Elves in a matter of days atop a rather eager elk you rode off East towards the Lonely Mountain. Wary of being detained inside the vast Greater Greenwood some dared to call Mirkwood you went around. The long way, perhaps too far along as you found yourself awakening after a long moonless night on the edges of a vast set of hot springs to low deep voices.

Dwarves by the dozens stripped of their regal attire named themselves by your catch of names the Company had spoken of, well really Thorin had grumbled of in recounting which Dwarf Lords refused to aid in marching on Erebor. And right atop a flat smooth boulder all of them had left their regal adornments, crowns, circlets, necklaces and rings to mark their statuses piled on alongside their golden seal stampers to mark their postage and contracts legally to their titles. To yourself you smirked at a plan forming and softly urged your elk to stay in place after readying it to be ridden again. Right over to the boulder you bear crawled to creep up and like a raccoon take each piece with dainty fingers you put quietly into a sack you had to once hold some of the lembas you had been given you’d added to the other sack to make room and not crush your only secure food source.

And when the last piece was added you lowered down again as if you were never there. Back to the elk you crawled and then hurried to climb atop its back with hold of a rock you had pulled out of the earth on the way back. Hard and loud you threw it once barely to the edge of being visible as your silent elk sprang away instantly stirring a notion of alarm through the Dwarves soon bled to anger at the notice of their jewels gone.

Days you managed to stay two hours at least ahead of the amassing army ravens and hawks had been sent to warn for from Southern Dwarf Kingdoms even alarming the Men of Rohan who sent a legion of Riders to join along in chasing the unthinkable thief.

Right through the final night with the peak in sight your elk gladly kept the pace in this game of evasion as a storm had gained you a spare few hours of rest as the Dwarves were diverted around a flooding river it bounded and trudged through easily.

Halfway across the plain to the peak you halted its path at the sound of a loud roar that only meant the Dragon had been woken. Over the front of the saddle your leg swung so you could jump off and dig out a chunk of black metal used for dragon weaponry, the only metal able to pierce the scales of the beast.

The gates were thrown wide open and with the chunk in hand off a chain around your neck you eased a large Dwarf Ring of Power you had found after falling off the cliff the white orc wore like a trophy and slid it on your finger using the chain to help fill the gap between metal and skin. The main power of the thing was a pathway to the only way to drive the Dwarves to possible ruin, the ability to multiply anything they mined and you had pulled this metal right from the earth yourself so it counted at least to you on the vague interpretation of the rule. And just like you hoped a firm grip of the metal had it glowing and fire out both ends to form a giant spear the unknowing beast ran itself through unable to stop in time at the sudden jolt at his breast. Down into the earth he collapsed as you let go of the metal and scrambled to get a foot on the elk’s stirrup and urge it to spring away, as it planned on its own to do. Up above your view of the jostling saddle you drug yourself to be seated upon again was a huddle of bodies that came to stare at the now downed dragon and the nameless too blurry figure atop a steed now turning widely their way.

It didn’t take long for your name to be shouted in both relief and shock, but in the light of the fiery gold lit open doorway they could see the Elven garb and source of your survival. “Hey,” you said dropping off the saddle again to be drawn into eager hugs while the elk came to curiously inspect the hall to see if food was in sight.

“Lothlorien,” Thorin said breathlessly in awe of your survival of nightmarish disaster beyond his worst imaginings. “How did you down the beast?”

And you showed him the ring dangling from the chain wrapped around your palm and wrist loosely. “Azog had this. Multiplies what you mine, found black metal, made a giant spear.” And he let out a proud chuckle then looked to the sack you offered him. “We’re gonna have some angry Company in a few hours.”

His brow rose and you took hold of the reigns of the elk to go and find the farming peaks to let it rest and eat there Balin had once mentioned for their goat and boar steeds. “Y/n?! Where did you get these?!” He demanded to your back after he’d drawn out a familiar seal for the King of Orcarni he kept hold of to show you and the others in your turn to glance back at him still walking away.

“You know there’s a giant hot spring near Orcarni?”

“Yes..” he growled.

“Well there were some familiar names caught and good news, got you your armies. I’m gonna tuck them into the farming peak and then find the dungeon to lock myself in.”

“Y/n!! You-!!” At a loss for words at the sound of a distant Dwarf horn alerting of armed forces ready to advance after the last roar and thunderous crash he lowered his voice and told the others, “Seal the gates, we tell them we captured the thief and we will work out something less severe as a punishment later after a term of stay in our dungeons. Balin, mind her, before she marches another army on our gates please.” The exasperated glance he gave your back had his cousin chuckle and oblige, hurrying after you to congratulate you on the miraculous return and plan to help kill the beast. “And Bilbo, get searching for that stone.” Bilbo nodded and hurried to do that to the motion of the others to force the gates shut and locked again so they could wait atop the overlook in wait for the thousands of Dwarves to arrive and demand answers.

.

A second horn of a fouler tone however found you called for and amidst the ranks of Dwarves and Men standing above Dain now on his back from a warg bite with a chunk of his armor bent into the flesh of his thigh. Oin worked to stem the bleeding to get him able to be moved while you used a stack of dead orc and wargs to funnel the oncoming orc into a more manageable number for full view of the King who had mind to stab you himself when he’d first seen you. All the same on the front against the orc and goblin forces your bright eyed glowing petite thief of a self stood on their side and he would not cut you down unjustly mid battle and could wait for retribution later and now lay at your mercy.

Over the wall of orc a goblin scrambled and collapsed taking hold of your bloody dirt stained braid tugging you backwards in its fall. Belly up for the double handed grip of an orc who smugly grinned at being able to plunge his blade into your exposed chest.

Far off in the distance the sight of an Eldar Elf born and glowing with the light of the Two Trees even in that area plunged with darkness through grime and filth could not be missed by any of the Silvan forces who lined the edge of the forest in case of advance on their borders. All called to arms just same as the Dwarves at the roar of the fallen beast.

The King himself however was the one to break the hold to fire and let loose three arrows to clear the goblin who had hold of the lone Elf and two orc advancing upon them. Lothlorien garb explained little of why they were there aside from possibly having been amongst the Rohirrim and got stuck here after travel from some important message being sent to King Thengel. Then alone at sight of your spring to your feet ready for the next orc to advance was reason of the call to charge. Straight through the darker forces his thousands of soldiers sprung to make clean work of the orc and goblins Dwarves had split into smaller numbers as you had done.

The King himself off his elk dropped helping Dain and Oin up to have the steed charge towards the healing tents made up inside the guarded peak. Blades in hand to assist in this swarm of hundreds the Men of Rohan burst to aid with after clearing their own hundreds, an odd left over pool you had gotten edged to funnel off alone to just keep at bay until others could come and help as Dain had tried while his men behind him got thwarted by a band of wargs they were using to hold off as a wall more orcs trying to come at the back of their Longbeard kin who sprung from Erebor itself.

Hard into his back the Elf King turned his head, having just used both blades to kill five orc nearest him to scowl in focus at your smaller self pinned to his taller frame. Blades locked with a mace of a crooked leaning goblin that had found the obscure nail adorned weapon after losing its own. Easily he swung his arm to sever the head of the goblin and had to restrain his amused smirk at the huff you gave when the force and weight against your blades dropped to the collapse of its body and weapon.

A hand to his side with a hard shove an hour later again had him look to the smaller body trying to stagger away from a collapsing tower in Dale that would have fallen on top of him. Wide eyed in the moments of clarity before heavy stone obscured his view he saw a panicked expression on your face at the loss of crumbling ground to stand upon that had you fall mid squeak as words seemed to fail you. Loudly it fell apart into a giant heap and through the dust he clambered to get over the rubble to find you just ten feet down plopping off your side onto your back.

Just a halo of the body of the King seen through the cloud of dust in view and you squeaked, “Ow,” forcing a breath of relief from his lungs that you were not likely to have been badly injured. Down into the crevice you had found he hopped with other Elves to come into view watching his ease to your side. “Have you landed on anything?”

“Just my ribs it seems.” You frailly replied and out he reached to test a touch of your legs to prop those up in a first step so he could scoop you up.

“Better your ribs than a blade.” He replied.

“Nope, got that too,” you whined in a shift of your hand to draw attention to the hilt of your blade that caught in your outer coat there fraying the side of your gifted Elven embroidered pants at the thigh.

“Clever,” he said collecting the blade he tucked into the sash around his waist so he could ease his arms underneath you. “Now,” he said on his knees having drawn you off the ground and into his chest, “Out of this rubble, Healers await.”

“How do I know you?” You squeaked next when he’d leapt up out of the crevice, to be walked in a heavy number of guards to escort you to a safer place to be seen to.

“My name is unimportant at the moment.” He replied, “Conserve your energy, damage to the ribs will take time to mend properly. Once you are safely placed into a guest quarters in Greater Greenwood I shall write to Lord Celeborn of your safety.”

“No, but my elk is in Erebor.”

“My soldiers will bring your steed as well.” He said and looked down as you narrowed your eyes at him and tilted your head.

“No, I know you from somewhere.”

“I am certain it will come to you in time.” He replied and looked forward again.

Right to an Elven tent amongst the Dwarf stations he brought you to first ensure no serious injuries were unseen before you were transported to the forest.

Though from the moment he’d passed beneath the cover of the tent his instant panic for your slip into unconsciousness was soon overtaken by argument of the Company who refused to allow you to be taken to the forest as you were a member of their Company and had slain Smaug, the direct source of a small tail spike that was found buried in your clothing to be just harmful enough to let out a steady stream of blood from your lower leg to fill your boot.

.

Deeply you inhaled, waking inside a lavish apartment in the Royal Floors of the mountain under watch of an Elleth who seemed pleased you had awoken.

Sheepishly in her slip out of the room you eased off the bed to limp to the robe left on the chair along the wall to cover the silk nightgown you had on with more painted silk you tied around your waist. Free hand on your throbbing ribs as you did this. Silence hinting you were alone had you sneak out of the bedroom and find the front door, that when opened revealed a line of armed Dwarf guards and Dain inside an armchair positioned directly there, complete with footrest his injured led rested upon so he could be here when you awoke.

“You, dragon slayer.” Deep and grumbling he let out a reluctant breath and said, “Had you not saved my life and I owe you a life debt, I would have you thrown from my kin’s lands. For now, I thank you for fealty in battle,” his finger raised to point at you, “But you touch another relic of claim to rule of my kin again and I will see to it you have no hands left to steal so much as a crumb to nibble upon.”

For a moment your lips parted and then closed causing his brow to rise, “Have you lost your voice in battle, Lass?”

“Mr Dwarf,” you squeaked out causing his brow to lift a bit higher, “Honestly I got lost trying to meet Thorin after our separation. And I happened upon you all, all the Dwarf Lords Thorin had named who refused to help him reclaim his home.” At that he scoffed and you said, “Thorin needed help, Azog was alive still until I beheaded him in the fall from a cliff, and I had no clue who would be upon him next when I found him. Turned out to be a dragon. I would say I am sorry for my actions however you must admit it was a clever plot. Classic, honestly, always worked on Finwe.”

Together his brows furrowed through a huff and he growled out, “Aye, it was. Naught but my beard adornments and a wee glowing thing races off with my rites to my crown.”

“I’m certain in a few years it will be a humerous leg to the tale of how Erebor was reclaimed gold over many ales.” Softly you groaned to the plant of your hand on the frame of the door and he gestured a hand to go with a Khuzdul order, and one of the guards came to help take hold of your slouching self.

“Back to bed now, before the Elf King hears of your tired self collapsing. Went and had to save his life too, now the pointy eared princeling is bartering with Thorin for his gems and release of your sticky fingered self to his halls for a stay. No telling what you pinched from him.”

.

“You are not in bed,” The Elf King spoke aloud having caught you in a late night sneak down to check on your elk. Whose face you were stroking while it nibbled on the carrots you brought down here to the stables where you’d left them that now housed more steeds from each army.

��The last Elf King I met was Gil-Galad. You do not look like Gil-Galad.”

“I am pleased,” he joked, “We did not see eye to eye on many things.”

“I would not doubt that very much, he was taller than you, but I know you.” You said and he looked at you still grinning post chuckle at your height comment.

“We crossed paths in Valinor, when I was very young. And very short, shorter than you I would dare to say.”

“Now that must have been a very long time ago then.” You said and he chuckled again.

“Barely a moment to me.” He said and you looked his face over, “I shall assist you, the last time we spoke, prior to my collecting you from that crevice, you were collecting me from a tangled net within which I fell in an act of thievery inside your orchard.”

“And they call me the thief.” You teased and he chuckled again.

“I had never tasted such a pear in all of my life.”

“As the one you stole,” you added and he nodded amused.

“As the one I stole.”

“I would hope not, I created them myself.”

He nodded and said hopefully, “We have much room in my kingdom should the two of us make terms for me to acquire a tree for within our borders.”

“I would have you know I never abandon my orchards.”

“I had hoped as much,” he hummed hopefully causing you to draw in a breath at his lingering gaze locked upon your eyes.

@jesevans, @theincaprincess, @lilith15000, @devilishminx328

#Thorin #thorin's company #durins #bilbo #Dain ironfoot #Dwarves #Dwarf Ring of Power #Lothlorien #Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #elf reader #the hobbit #lotr

[mclovinishereforsmutty]

The Hobbit: ThorinxBilbo A/B/O 3

“Wait! Stop! We have to turn around. I forgot my handkerchief,” 

“You’ll have to learn to manage without pocket handkerchiefs and a great many other things, Bilbo,” Gandalf responded, handing him a rag. Bilbo, somewhat embarresed, looked around too late to catch eyes with Thorin, who was watching Bilbo take the rag from Gandalf. They travelled through the shire and past the forest of Buckland, and on and on until it was nearly nightfall (they stopped somewhere i dunno). After a short dinner most fell sleep although once Bombur started snoring the rest were left awake from the noise. Bilbo gets up, unable to fall asleep, and goes to check on his pony. 

“Good girl. Whose a good girl? This’ll be our little secret, Myrtle. You must tell no one,” Bilbo whispered, sneaking his pony an apple, and patting her snout. This moment shared between horse and hobbit lasted a short while until an inhuman shriek soundedthrough the night. “What was that?” Bilbo looked over out over the land. 

“Orcs” Kili responded. 

“Orcs?” Bilbo asked in a rather shaky voice. Upon hearing Bilbo, Thorin awoke in alarm. He looked around for the orcs Bilbo mentioned, but after realising there were none nearby, he settled into listening to the conversation. 

“Throat-cutters. They’ll be dozens of them out there. The lone-lands are crawling with them. They strike in the wee small hours when everyones asleep. Quick and quiet. No screams, just lots of blood,” Fili and Kili explained, barely containing their amusement at Bilbos concern. Despite Fili and Kili teasing Bilbo, his fear rose with every shriek and howl from the far off orcs. Any intense emotion, especially fear, in an omega or alpha sends tier pheromones into overdrive, and Bilbo, who had never left the shire prior to this excursion, was truely terrified. Thorin who had barely been listening shot open his eyes at the sweet aroma of fresh bread and honey. 

“You think thats funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke? You know nothing of the world,” Thorin reprimanded, scoffing at his nephews’ ignorance. His anger and hatred for orcs caused a flood of rich soil and campfire wash over the dwarves, Gandalf, and most of all Bilbo, but to him the scent didn’t seem harsh, closer to the comfort and familiarity of Buckland woods but with the excitement and adventure of what seemed to be a whole new world Bilbo had entered with this company. 

“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain… King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs… led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc… had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began… by beheading the king. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed… we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death… were upon us. That is when I saw him. A young Dwarf prince… facing down the pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent… wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day… that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied… wand drove the Orcs back. And our enemy… had been defeated. But there was no feast… nor song that night… for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then… there is one who I could follow. There is one… I could call king,” Balin explained, as Thorin walked a ways to compose himself. Bilbo want over to Thorin, taking deep breaths as though he would never taste fresh air again. They stood side by side for awhile, quietly drinking each other in. 

“What happened to the pale orc?” Bilbo cautioned, turning to Thorin only to be face to face with the rugged dwarf. Bilbo gasped in slight surprise, not expecting their faces to be so close. Thorin might’ve given a slight smirk at that, however the subject matter at hand stilled his face. 

“He slunk back into the hole from whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago,” Thorin answered, with venom in his voice that was not towards Bilbo. He looked into the dwarfs stony eyes, his chizeled rough complexion brought out the smoothness of his lips. Bilbo wanted to know what they felt like on his. Thorin studied Bilbos face, his gentle mossy eyes, his small nose, and his soft pink lips. Another shriek from the orcs, and Bilbo jumped back into Thorin. “Hey, hey. Theres no orcs up here. They aren’t near us. Even if they were I’d protect you… seeing as how useless conkers would be against them,” he reasoned, gruffly. Despite his bluntness, he put his coat on Bilbos shoulders and brought him back to where his bag lay. Thorin lay down in the spot beside Bilbo and let their fingers barely touch until Bilbo fell relaxed. 

“Thorin? You’ll still be here when I wake up right?” Bilbo murmured, half asleep at this point. 

“I’m not leaving” 

#alpha beta omega #bilbo baggins #fanfic #omegaverse #the hobbit #the hobbit bilbo #thorin oakenshield #thorin x bilbo

[uruking]

#   URUKING :    WE ARE LEGION .   independent + private ,   AZOG the defiler   /   from JRR tolkien’s the hobbit .   a study in :   the perception of evil ,   a king amidst wolves ,   &   the thrill of the hunt.   commanded by viral .   

#lotr rp #hobbit rp #fantasy rp #new promo !

[sailorsolar12]

Heir of Prophecy Chapter 4 - Thorin x OC

Hi guys. Here is the fourth chapter. I hope that you guys like it. Anyways, here is the small breakdown again of the story as well as the key to follow for the story.

Summary: While Jasmine, daughter of Apollo, is fighting one of Kronos’ minions, it sends her through a rift in the dimensional gate to the land of Middle Earth. More specifically: The Shire. She lands in front of the home of Bilbo Baggins as Gandalf the Grey is entering the small home. Clad in her normal wear as well as her weapons, the company of Thorin Oakanshield is hesitant to accept her. As the meeting drags on, she discovers a prophecy that lies on the map that belongs to Thorin. It is hen that Jasmine realizes that she is a part of something bigger than any daughter of Apollo has ever faced. As she travels all over Middle Earth in the company of dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard, she faces her fears and learns to rely on the help of unexpected friends. Through this journey she has become the Heir of Prophecy.

Rating: T at first. M later on for violence, swearing, and slight romance

Unofficial pairings: KillixTauriel and ThorinxOC

Please read, comment, vote, follow, and favorite. Thank you. Enjoy.

Note: I don’t own either one of these series! I mean come on guys…..I would be a billionaire and not have to worry about my finances all the time if I did! And Also here is a quick key that I will be using from now on:

Previously on HOP

Prophecies

*Flashback/Dream/Vision*

Song Lyrics (When i use them which will be scarecly)

Delphi’s Speech

(english translation of any Greek I use)

Previously on HOP Ch 3

Balin looked at Thorin’s nephews in sympathy. “Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.”

By the end of the story, the entire camp had awoke and was now standing in awe of Thorin as he began to pace back and forth between them and the fire.

Bilbo voiced the one thing that was bugging him. “But the pale orc? What happened to him?”

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago,” Thorin’s voice said with disgust in it.

Jasmine stared at Thorin and frowned to herself. He had gone through so much in his life, and yet he still wanted to reclaim his homeland. She knew for a fact that he would make a great king as the dwarves in this company follow him and will do so to the end of their days.

On another cliff across the valley, a group of Wargs and Orcs is there, spying on the Company. Yazneg, their leader, talks to the rest. “Send word to the Master. We have found the Dwarf-scum.”

Chapter 4

A few days later Jasmine hums softly to her music as the others look absolutely miserable in the rain. She sent a wink towards a few who looked back at her. “Celestine let’s go!” she called out as her steed took off. She loved flying in the rain.

Meanwhile on the ground, Dori looks at Gandalf hopefully. “Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?”

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard,” he replies.

“Are there any?” Bilbo suddenly asks.

“What?” Gandalf says slightly confused by his sudden question.

“Other wizards?” Bilbo clarifies.

“There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards; you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names,” Gandalf replies thoughtfully.

“And who is the fifth?”

“Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown.”

“Is he a great Wizard or is he...more like you?”

Gandlaf looks at him slightly offended. “I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

Jasmine’s laughter rang through the forest as she had heard Bilbo’s statement. She and Celestine landed, both of them sopping wet. She hummed softly as “Again” the first FullMetal Alchemist opening came on. She smiled and leaned down on Celestine. That gave the winged horse her single to start doing tricks in the rain causing the dwarves, hobbit, and wizard to stare in awe. She smiled as the next song, Heroes by Mans Zelmerlow, came on. Her voice rang out as she sang along with the song.

“Don't tell the gods I left a mess

I can't undo what has been done

Let's run for cover

What if I'm the only hero left

You better fire off your gun, once and forever

He said go dry your eyes and live your life like there is no tomorrow, son

And tell the others to go sing it like a hummingbird

The greatest anthem ever heard

We are the heroes of our time

But we're dancing with the demons in our minds

We are the heroes of our time

Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh

We're dancing with the demons in our minds

Hero-uh-o-o-o

O-oh-o-o-oh

We are the heroes of our time

Hero-oh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

We're dancing with the demons in our minds

Hero-oh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

The crickets sing a song for you

Don't say a word, don't make a sound

It's life's creation

I make worms turn into butterflies

Wake up and turn this world around in appreciation

He said I never left your side

When you were lost I followed right behind

Was your foundation

Now go sing it like a hummingbird

The greatest anthem ever heard

We are the heroes of our time

Hero-uh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

We're dancing with the demons in our minds

Hero-oh-o-o-oes, o-uh-o-o-oh

(We keep dancing with the demons)

(You could be a hero)

Now go sing it like a hummingbird

The greatest anthem ever heard

Now sing together

We are the heroes of our time

(Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh)

But we're dancing with the demons in our minds

(Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh)

We are the heroes of our time

(We keep dancing with the demons)

(You could be a hero)

Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh

But we're dancing with the demons in our minds

(We keep dancing with the demons)

(You could be a hero)

Hero-oh-o-o-oes. o-uh-o-o-oh

We are the heroes.”

Jasmine looked down her eyes closed as the pain of losing her mother and many of her friends in battles came back to her. She silently let a single tear slide down her cheek, praying that they would be reborn for their heroic actions and even those who repented for their sins before they died in battle.

“So you have suffered great losses as well,” Gandalf stated.

She nodded and opened her eyes. “Many of my friends have suffered at the hand of the Titan Kronos. He has brainwashed many of my friends as well as killed many. Sometimes I feel as if that it has been so long ever since all of this has happened when it’s only been a couple of years since Kronos began his big moves. As the daughter of the god of prophecy I can understand the Great Prophecy more than others.”

“Great Prophecy?” Gandalf and many of the dwarves questioned.

“A half-blood of the eldest gods

Shall reach sixteen against all odds

And see the world in an endless sleep,

The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap

A single choice shall end his days,

Olympus to preserve or raze.”

Jasmine looked at them and said in a very serious and slightly deadly tone, “One of the children of the oldest gods will be the one to save the world. Nico diAngelo is only twelve although a son of Hades. Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus is now a Hunter of Artemis and is immortal at 15. Percy Jackson is the only one who is destined to fulfill this prophecy. After analyzing this prophecy with my abilities as the Heir of Prophecy, I have come to a 90% conclusion that this prophecy talks about two people and not just one person. Because Kronos has yet to regain his full form, he has taken over the body of a very dear friend of mine, Luke Castellon. He is a son of Hermes who is also one of the oldest gods of the Olympian council.”

“But what is the cursed blade that the prophecy speaks of?” Thorin asks, his interest spiked by the information.

“The scythe of Kronos.” At her statement the sky seemed to darken even more. Lightning flashed multiple times, trying to tell Jasmine something. She looked up at the sky. “Gramps I ain’t done. I’m still explaining my theory to them. Jeez.” She rolled her eyes and looked at the group only for thunder to roar loudly. “I will Gramps. Love you too.” She took a deep breath to collect herself again and said, “Luke, Percy, and I have a special curse called the Curse of Achilles. It basically gives us skin of iron that cannot be penetrated except for one spot that links us to our mortality. This spot is the only spot in which we can be killed." She paused and took a breath. "Since Kronos is using Luke's body, if Luke's spirit is able to take over he may be the one to defeat Kronos. I'm not sure though. After all it is only a hunch.”

There was complete silence throughout the entire company. Thorin was the first to break the silence. “It seems that you are more useful than you let on. I am glad you came on this quest with us.” For the rest of the night the entire company was completely silent.

Jasmine placed her headphones back into her ear and listened to Heroes on repeat letting her vision become blurry but not letting her tears fall. The 18 year old demi-god felt eyes watching her as they came to a place to camp for the night. She looked behind her as she got off of Celestine and held the gaze of Thorin’s blue eyes. Jasmine could have sworn she saw unshed tears in his own eyes, but she turned around keeping to herself for the night taking a watch and staying up all night because she knew she’d have nightmares.

#sailorsolar12 #fanfiction #imagines #imagine #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #percy jackson and the olympians imagine #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction #pjato #pjato imagines #pjato imagine #pjato fanfiction #crossover

[eamonorus-blog]

Battle of the Five Armies

I am afraid I am going to have to rant about why I hate tBOTFA

The elves are all wrong to begin with. These are elves who are "more dangerous and less wise" than their western kin, who are less armoured. They don't have the martial traditions of the Calaquendi. They should not be an elite well-oiled fighting machine that moves in perfect sync like an army of robots. They should be a force of fierce and fey forest elves, who do what they do in the books, unleash a volley of arrows before charging recklessly into battle with their weapons glowing like they are aflame, so fierce is their hatred.

As for the Dwarves, well. In the books the Dwarves are able to come to answer Thorins call so soon because they are especially hardy and strong members of a strong and hardy race. They are armoured in mail head to toe, and armed to the teeth, round shields, beards plaited into belts, a short sword at their side and a two-handed mattock in their hands, and despite all that heavy packs with supplies to reinforce the mountain with. They came on foot carrying all that equipment, which is an impressive feat. But Dwarves did not tame beasts, that is what men and elves do! There should be no warpigs or goat cavalry. And the Legendarium should be low tech, the Dwarf smithing feats come from forging incredible jewellery, armour and weapons, not through incredible technological innovations. They shouldn't have anti-arrow artillery, or chariots with machine-crossbows, or anything of the sort. They are angry beard men who will crush your skull, not technologically advanced hoplite wannabes.

When it comes to the men, instead of getting tall nordic dudes with ancient Dwarf forged swords standing as a totally legit army alongside the other two races, we get a faction of useless dirty hobos. Because PJ decided that Lake Town was going to be a commentary on class struggle, instead of the bustling and fairly prosperous town it was in canon, which made Smaug destroying the town all the more of a loss. As for the Orcs and Wargs, well, where to begin?

Instead of the treasure hungry horde of nasty cave creatures from the books, we get another nazi-esque legion of PL*TE armoured Uruk-hai wannabes. Breeding half orcs is a unique and terrible thing in middle earth? Not anymore apparently, since there was a whole massive army of them that Sauron unleashed before he even knew the ring had been found that is greater than the army he unleashes in the WotR in all sorts of ways. It has trolls that are way bigger than the later ones for some reason, and the orcs are all cgi which doesnt help.

Instead of being their own faction of malevolent wolves, the wargs are simply the ugly hyena-esque mounts. Thats not great, but Beorn, who single handed saved the day and killed Bolg in the books gets totally sidelined. Instead of sweeping a few orcs off of the high places like they do in the books, these eagles dive bomb compact pike formations with no problems whatsoever. Apparently in the PJ universe having a tightly packed formation of infantry with heavy armour and spears gives you no ability to resist the charge of anything larger than an elf with a katana. And lets not get into the way the actual layout and playing out of the battle is butchered. Instead of being a historically coherent melee back and forth of heavy infantry which would make sense visually and logically, a bunch of our characters take time off from the battle to go fight the big bad, in such a way that if this was real the battle would be well over by the time they even got to Azog. We have super trolls getting all owned at the same time with some kind of thrown weapon, javelins I think? I dunno but it doesnt make sense. We have elven archers jumping the phalanx (jumping the phalanx is what I say now whenever a battle in a film jumps the shark) We have Alfred gobbling up screen time like a Boffin or a Bracegirdle eating snacks during Bilbos party. All in all the whole thing is something I can't even bear to watch its so bad. All of PJs worst instincts are allowed full space to flourish.

#the hobbit #peter jackson #tolkien #the battle of the five armies

[koroanebony]

Part 17 sorry for the weird font last chapter.

Thorin nods and we are told to go in before Bilbo sneezes and stops us again. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" "Whatever is the matter?" I've forgotten my handkerchief!" That conversation went on for a minute before we continued. "You will have to do without pocket handkerchiefs, and a great many other things, before we reach our journey's end, Bilbo Baggins. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you. The world is ahead." Gandalf responds to his lamentations. He just nods solemnly and we continue on our trek. We walk. We walk and we walk and walk. I notice the horses are beginning to become restless as we continue walking and some of the dwarfs keep glancing back towards me with worried expressions. I also come to notice that Thorin keeps giving Bilbo weird side glances so I run up to Bofur's horse and call out to him while he just looks down at me. Barely. "15 coins their falling for each other, Bilbo and Thorin." He just looks back up and nods while I smile and fall towards the back again. We finally make it up a hill and by that time it's already dark and foreboding. Thorin announced we would stop here for the night and I took some of the ponies to be tied up at a nearby tree. Once I got back everyone was either asleep or still rolling out their bed rolls. When everyone was asleep except me, Bilbo, Kili, Fili, and Balin I saw Bilbo take an apple over to Myrtle, his pony. I saw that even though he was trying to be discreet and chuckled to myself in a soft tone. When I heard a scream I took my dagger out while everyone else just looked up. I really need to get my sword back. "Orcs." I hear a voice mutter over my shoulder. I'm standing at the mouth of the little rock formation we're camping in. I see Kili with a grave look covering his face, same with Fili. "Blood thirsty. They always attack in the middle of the night. No noise just lots of blood." Bilbo looks petrified so I clear my throat to correct them but Thorin had woken up and beat me to it. "You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" Kili is quick to respond, "We didn't mean anything by it." And Thorin shoots right back at him, "No you didn't. You know nothing of the world." He walks off towards the edge of the clif and Balin comes walking towards us, "Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria... but our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race, Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed; we did not know. We were leaderless, defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him; the young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armour rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield... Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back; our enemy had been defeated... but there was no feast or songs that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived and I thought to myself then 'There is one I could follow. There is one I could call King'."

Forever tags: @luna-xial

#kili x oc #lord of the rings #the hobbit

[mrandrewbond]

My model of Azog the Defiler I have completed. This has been put in my model gallery in my Middle-Earth Sketchbook.

#Azog the Defiler #the hobbit #middle earth strategy battle game #3d model #Azog's Legion #Lord of the Rings #pale Orc #gundabad

[leonineus]

Gotta say I really don't get the Tauriel hate.

When you get down to it, it's the difference between book-narrative and film-narrative, as well as the difference between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

In terms of book-narrative, The Hobbit is written in third person pretty much EXCLUSIVELY following Bilbo's point of view. The equivalent in film-narrative would probably have been something along the lines of strapping a camera to Martin Freeman's forehead and occasionally having a voiceover happen to represent his thoughts and feelings.

Now, the main drawback of a book being written like that is that if something isn't explicitly presented or explained to the perspective-holder, it is effectively a non-entity to them. This is why the only information on what happened in the Battle of the Five Armies after Bilbo was knocked unconscious was through whatever people cared to tell him after the fact. For all we know, the battle was won because a legion of flying purple hippos came out of the sky trailing rainbows and vomiting torrents of love hearts onto the orc armies and the only reason we don't know that's what happened is because nobody told Bilbo that's what happened.

The Lord of the Rings, however, had a far less focused narrator. Tolkien opens the text into a prologue talking about Hobbit culture, follows his characters up to Amon Hen (with occasional segues to explain bits and pieces of information here and there as was deemed important e.g. what happened with the ponies), and then had to split his attention between different groups of them thereafter, adding or removing extra groups as they floated in and out of contact with each other.

That style lends itself well to conversion to a film-narrative; you've already got the wide-angle view of what's going on from the third-person "viewer" perspective, all you need now is to add enough people to fill out the surroundings beyond what was already stated and you're done.

Back to the original point about The Hobbit, in order to convert that narrator-following-a-single-person-almost-exclusively style into a workable film narrative the way The Lord of the Rings was filmed, there's a lot more filling out that has to be done. The world outside of Bilbo's perspective has to be completely built up, which is why we get to see the White Council storming Dol Guldur, the entire extent of the Battle of the Five Armies rather than just what Bilbo was conscious for, and more specifically; Tauriel and Legolas' involvement. At no point in the films do either make contact with Bilbo. Nobody mentions them to him. As far as he's concerned, both are non-entities during the quest to retake Erebor.

That's why I don't get the Tauriel hate; she's not shoehorned into a narrative she wasn't originally part of, she's a product of having to expand one narrow perspective into a much broader one for the purposes of making a decent film-narrative. I'm sure someone will yell at me about unnecessary diversity, but let's face it; Bard's family was added for much the same reason as Tauriel or Legolas and I don't see anybody crapping on THEIR existence/participation quite as badly.

I will concede that there was stuff that was altered for the adjusted perspective but not for the better; to pick an example, I grew up with access to a copy of the graphic novel of The Hobbit and thus was slightly disappointed that Bolg died by Legolas' hand and not by Beorn bear-hugging him to death. Please note however that I do not consider his presence in general to have been a sin, just that they could have afforded to be a little less heavy-handed with the adjustments to accommodate his presence.

Perhaps instead it should have been some other nameless lieutenant of Azog's, notable enough to have a presence on the field but not so notable that the Company had ever learned his name or cared to, that Legolas came up against. For us as the viewers, it would have been a notable battle between Good and Evil taking place outside the scope of the main story but no less significant to our perspective, while not really falling into the scope of Bilbo's as being necessarily important enough for anybody to mention it.

#the hobbit #the lord of the rings #tauriel #book narrative vs film narrative #legolas #perspective matters

[moving-accounts-uwu]

Future Stories/Fanfics!

Hiya! I’m new to the whole Tumblr Author scene so please bear with me and be patient! Below is a list of fandoms and characters I write for, as well as themes. I hope to create both original stories and fanfics soon; I also don’t take requests at the moment either! I want to pump out a few stories before I take on requests, and with the few stories I write I’ll finally make a masterlist so you all can stay updated with series or one-shots for fandoms/characters that you love <3 

Here are some fandoms I will write fanfics for:

- Marvel

- Supernatural

- The Walking Dead

- Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit

- Dead by Daylight

- Halloween

- Friday the 13th

- Predator/Yautja

- Aliens/Xenomorphs

- Days Gone

- Far Cry 5

- Knives Out

- Assassin’s Creed

- Resident Evil (2, 3 & 8)

- Call of Duty (Modern Warfare, Ghosts & WWII)

- Final Fantasy (VII, XIII, XIII-2 & XV)

- Detroit: Become Human

- Legend of Zelda

- Horizon: Zero Dawn

- Prey

- Overwatch

- The Witcher

- Until Dawn

- Evolve 

- Dragon Age

- Stranger Things

Characters I Write For:

- Marvel: Steve, Bucky, Clint, Natasha, Pietro, Wanda, Tony, Peter Parker, Thor, Loki, Ultron, Venom

- Supernatural: Sam, Dean

- The Walking Dead: Daryl, Rick, Carl, Glenn, Maggie, Negan, Jesus

- LOTR/Hobbit: Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bilbo, Dwalin, Thranduil, Azog, Elrond, Bard,  Legolas, Aragorn, Frofo, Samwise, Pippin, Merry, Boromir

- Dead by Daylight: Trapper, Wraith, Michael, Huntress, Legion, Ghost Face, Demogorgon, Oni

- Halloween: Michael Myers

- Friday the 13th: Jason Voorhees 

- Predators: Yautja, Ultimate Yautja

- Aliens: Xenomorph

- Days Gone: Deacon, Boozer

- Far Cry 5: Jacob, Joseph, John, Faith, Staci, Eli, Junior Deputy

- Knives Out: Ransom Drysdale 

- Assassin’s Creed: Altair, Malik, Ezio, Connor, Edward, Arno, Kassandra, Alexios, Evie, Jacob, Eivor

- Resident Evil (2, 3 & 8): Leon, Mr X, Jill, Carlos, Nemesis, Karl Heisenberg

- Call of Duty (MW, Ghosts & WWII): Price, MacTavish, Ghost, Roach, Nikolai, Yuri, Zussman, Logan Walker

- Final Fantasy (VII, XIII, XIII-2 & XV): Cloud, Zack, Tifa, Sephiroth, Vincent, Lightning, Hope, Snow, Fang, Vanille, Yuj, Maqui, Noel, Caius

- Detroit: Become Human: Connor, Markus, Kara, Hank, Daniel, Gavin, Luther

- Legend of Zelda: Link, Sidon, Ganon

- Horizon: Zero Dawn: Aloy, Erend, Varl, Avad, Teb

- Prey: Typhon, Phantom, Mimic, Nightmare, Poltergeist, Technopath

- Overwatch: McCree, Reaper, Soldier 76, Hanzo, Reinhardt, Tracer, Widowmaker, Sombre, Mercy, Junkrat, Genji, Baptiste, Orisa, Zarya

- Witcher: Geralt, Ciri, Jaskier

- Until Dawn: Josh, Sam, Mike, Chris, Wendigo

- Evolve: Goliath, Wraith, Kraken, Behemoth, Gorgon

- Dragon Age: Solas, Varric, Iron Bull, Cassandra, Dorian, Sera, Cullen, Hawke, Cole, Vivienne

- Stranger Things: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers, Jim Hopper

What I write:

- Series

- One-shots

- Fluff

- Angst

- Smut

- Romance

- Slow Burns

- Enemies to Lovers/Enemies to Friends to Lovers

- Strangers to Lovers/Strangers to Friends to Lovers

- x Reader

- Original Female & Male Characters

- Polyamorous 

- Hurt/Comfort

- Dub-con/Non-con (stories with these will have warnings!!!)

- Kinks

- Monsters

- Aliens

- Robots

- AU’s

#fanfics #fandoms i write for #fandoms #lists #characters i write for #characters i love #AU's #list of fandoms #list of characters #stories #original stories #new author #au #new tumblr author #author

[luna-redamancy]

A Writers Guide to Orcish Courting

Orcs are descended from East Elves captured by Melkor, their minds and bodies distorted and corrupted. Changed by such corruption, Orcs were now a new race. Originally created for fighting, rarely do we hear about their culture and customs. Despite common belief, not all Orcs are completely distorted or disfigured, some still hold their elvish beauty (Consider Azog, he is not as ‘disfigured’ looking as his legion, but he is noticeably different compared to an elf). Orcs, a quiet breed, known for their battle skill and physical brawn, quite little is known about them outside of this.

Being a distorted race, Orcs have a strong sense of smell. It is believed that when they smell the one meant for them, they instantly will know that this is their beloved. Now, not all relationships are determined by this. Several courtships and marriages have been successful based on just pure affection for one another.

Besides this, the courtship starts with a gift. Once an Orc decides who they would choose to marry, they will try and woo the courtee by crafting a gift for them. Similar to their Elven ancestors, they want to show off their craft skills. This gift must be handmade and can be anything from a carving, weapon, baked good, or jewelry. Most choose either weaponry or carving a rune or figurine for their chosen. This shows the time and effort that he or she is willing to put forth in their relationship. The more intricate the design, the more willing the orc seems to be to follow through with the relationship.

The second step is caretaking. Have a leak in your roof, it’ll be fixed by them. Your fence is broken? Fixed. You slip down a faulty step? They fix the step and take care of you while you’re injured. It isn’t expected of the courtee to partake in this step, however, if they so choose, they may join as well in the caretaking. For most, this involves helping the orc make their home more home-like.

Orcs are usually almost always on the move, and while they do have a permanent home, it truly isn’t much more than a bed and a dining table. Having another’s ‘home’ touch would show how much you are willing to take care of the relationship as well.  The whole point of this step in the courtship is for the two to show how they will improve their relationship. If something is broken (like a fence,) you don’t throw it away, you fix it. Or with a home, you build it to be a home, it’s not something that is already there.

The next step is the showing of strength. Orcs are very built and very strong. This step of the courtship is to show that besides in the home, they can take care of you. They can protect you. Showing of strength includes taking you on a hunting trip with them to show off their strength with wrestling a boar or getting into a brawl at the tavern with another Orc.

 Another sign of strength can be simply them showing off things like how much they can carry in one arm, or how much wood they can chop without being tired, or even asking you to ‘help them’ with their workout regimen just to show off their muscles. This step is mostly to show that they can protect you, but it also gives the Orc in question an ego boost. This step also shows off any physical traits that they would like you to view attractive.

The final step of proving they can take care of you is a meal. Orcs don’t believe in gender roles when it comes to who should cook and take care of who, it’s about equality to them. Plus, sexism won’t help anyone when you’re starving and all alone. This part of the courtship is to show that not only can they take care of you physically, such as their strength and doing repairs to the home, but internally. They can take care of your wellbeing, they can nourish you.

A common belief about the Orc-race is that they’re man-eaters, flesh eaters, cannibals. This is true for the race of the Uruk-Hai, who were bred by Saruman simply to destroy and take havoc on the world. A traditional Orc meal would be presented to you in this step. Typically a roasted pig or slices of wild game that they hunted themselves, as well as a side of vegetables and rice.

Orcs have a diet of things that can last long in their pantries, such as nuts, rice, and salted meats. However, just for their courtee, they will create a meal with fresh ingredients like vegetables, fresh rice from the farms, and freshly caught meat instead of the salted kind that they have stored away for the winter.

If at the end of all of this, you choose to still continue on with your courtship, the Orc will present you with a bead. Unlike the dwarves and the elves, these beads will not have any specific design to them, but they will have a specific color.

Each color has a meaning, and each color holds energy for a relationship in the Orcish culture. In an example, if you’re given a green bead it shall symbolize growth and harmony in your relationship, but if you’re given a blue bead, it symbolizes a relationship full of trust and loyalty.

Unlike other races, Orcs don’t beat around the bush when it comes to marriage. While Dwarvish and Elvish courtships can last for years, Orcish courtships typically last around six months. This is to prevent a person feeling stuck in their courtship and to encourage honesty. In Orcish culture, they love for a lifetime. It’s very difficult for them to fall in and out of love, so if they begin courting someone, they already know that they want to marry them. In other cultures, the courtship is about getting to explore your love, while in Orcish culture it is about proving your love to be true. Because of this, Orcs are not celibate before marriage, for they believe the heart is the most sacred thing, not sexual activity.

An Orcish marriage ceremony is commenced by the Chieftan or Legion ruler’s mate, who will take the two into a separate building outside of the clan’s territory and commence the ritual. The ritual consists of the two sharing a large blanket, sitting across from the ruler’s mate who will give them a foul tasting brew out of a potion jar. This is the final test for the couple, if both can drink it without any complaint, they are truly meant to be. Once married, the two are now considered lifetime Mates, not husband or wife. (A very gender neutral term tbh)

Orcs are quiet about their culture, so it is very unlikely for outsiders to know of these customs, so if you find yourself experiencing any of these steps, ask your local Orc if you’re being courted.

Tags-  

@ladylouoflothlorien

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck @xxno-wayxx @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18  

#orcish courting #orc #orcs #courting #courtship #orc culture #azog the defiler #the hobbit #fanfiction #a writers guide

[sindar-elven-maidens]

Chapter One 

Nyvari Oakenshield was an elven dwarf in the realm of Middle Earth, a rare race that didn’t occur very often or at all with that she was cast aside from the elven communities in Middle Earth. Her mother Aerin did her best to make sure Nyvari had a good life, taking her to Lord Elrond in Rivendell where she would be safe. Unfortunately, her mother stayed behind to fight wargs and orcs, until her timely demise sending her own daughter with their horse, It was a memory that Nyvari would never forget only being a baby at the time, many were surprised that Nyvari could remember such a thing from a young age.  Nyvari had known from a very young age where she had come from, her father the king under the mountain Thráin II the son of Thrór he succeeded his father and died a prisoner in Dol Guldur. 

Aerin on the other hand was a very well respected elf until her downfall with Thráin, in conceiving her daughter she was cast away from her home in Mirkwood. Forcing her just after the birth of her daughter Nyvari to make her way across Middle Earth,  ensuring her daughter was protected by Imladris. An Elven town and the house of Elrond described as "The Last Homely House East of the Sea”. Unfortunately with her mother’s demise unable to do anything from that young 0f an age, Nyvari always felt some kind of guilt that she couldn’t have done more. Making her feel such a fool as the years grew on the older she got the worse her feelings became to her situation, many elves in the home of Rivendell would describe Nyvari almost like she was a reminder of an elf from very long ago her name was “Fui”.  

The death goddess dwelling in halls that bore her name and had a roof of bat wings, she was the spouse of Vefantur eerily Nyvari reminded them of Fui. Nyvari had shown great promise from a young age her archery skills surpassed many of Lord Elrond’s elves, but as the years went on the more she had grown her purpose in this life. Became clear to the others around her she would be needed in many adventures, celebrations, and wars. Many had the feeling that once she left Rivendell on the side of good, they knew this elf would bring death and carnage to all who stood in her way, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Lord Elrond’s description of her can vary over the years that he raised Nyvari, but many in Rivendell can describe her as porcelain-skinned with a bloodless skin tone. Dwarven Elves as they describe can take on any genetics out of both races, but Nyvari, in particular, was appearing in her early twenties but was five foot and eight inches tall, which to many was short for an elf but tall for a dwarf. Many could never guess how much she weighed but if anyone could guess it would be around one hundred and thirty pounds, her physical bodily appearance was slim and curvy and could be seen through armor and the clothes she wears, her dark hair matched that of the Durin line dark black-brow, the length of a maiden to her lower back it sat the stature of her hair was beach waves, down or up into a ponytail she never liked to damage her hair, but her eyes were the rarest in all Middle Earth a grey color with flecks of green and amber, but the most notable thing that the elves of Rivendell knew about her, the distinguishing marks she can be known and found with dimples, deep scars that resemble Thranduil’s facial scars, due to the trauma she had endured while she was captured by orcs for six months and has enough scars to last a lifetime. A birthmark in the shape of the lonely mountain on a visible part of her neck.

The one thing anyone can make out of Nyvari is her favorite outfit a black and blue dwarvish outfit that looks like a female version of thorin's blue outfit with a choker with a small piece of Arkenstone dangling from it, no one really knows how she came to have a piece of the Arkenstone, but many across Middle Earth assume that Thráin had given a piece to his unborn daughter, which allowed Aerin to have a necklace made by the elven-smiths of Eregion, making the perfect tight fitting elvish necklace only made and perfected with the best this was Aerin’s only gift that she had left for her daughter, she has never taken off the necklace. 

The first time Nyvari left Rivendell she was captured by orcs, for about six months she was held captive in Dol Guldor by Azog the defiler she could hear the orcs around her talking about the Mines of Moria, Moria had been overrun with legions of orcs led by the vilest of their race Azog the Defiler, the Gundabad orc was swearing to wipe out the line of Durin, starting with the king Thrór beheading him just outside the mines of Moria as he had tossed his head three hundred feet and landed in a rabbit hole; thus the game of golf was invented. Nyvari was terrified of Azog just by his intimidating appearance fearsome-looking, and herculean orc, Azog is also a very large and extremely powerful orc, as tall if not taller than even the most advanced Uruk-hai, and far bulkier, his skin is bone-white, differentiating Azog from other orcs are his piercing blue eyes and smoother skin, with deep, tattoo-like incisions covering his face and torso. A metal claw replacing his severed forearm; the aft end of the prosthetic ends in a spike protruding near his elbow, the fact that Azog can sustain this prosthesis is an example of his immense ambitions to survive.

She lost herself in the trees

Among the ever-changing leaves

She wept beneath the wild sky

Though inside she knew not why

To overcome her hearts wounds

To rise from the ashes

For all she was told and all she saw

Shall soon be gone

The line of Durin shall fall

Though carry on it will

With the moon in her favor

 watching over her aimless journey

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tamriel Gallilyn resides from a place known as the Grey Havens. A noble Noldor elf from the undying lands as she had returned to Arda after being requested home by her father. While she had returned back to Middle Earth she had gone to travel to the woodland realm upon hearing of the birth of the king's new son as she was to give a blessing to the child; though on her way was taken by the same orcs who were after Nyvari’s bloodline. Taken to Dol Guldor and held captive until her escape thousands of years later. 

Though as she had managed to get out she also managed them to be on her tail as she ran despite being weak. She ran day in and day out to avoid going back as she had soon run into a group of guards near Mirkwood as they had taken her to the king and fought off the remaining scouts who failed to retake her. As Thranduil had seen her he immediately contacted Lord Elrond and sent her to Rivendell heavily guarded along the way as she hadn’t woken the whole journey there which concerned the elven leaders of the three elven kingdoms. 

Her appearance was of a soft ivory complexion as well as her Honey gold eyes which sparkled in the light of the sun and moon. Her hair a shade of Blonde which was quite uncommon for her race of elf as was her eye color. Her height was normal as well as her weight though her archery and sword skills were yet to be determined.

An ember astray

When the last of the crow’s feathers fall

An old forest shall grow quiet

Sorrows grow restless

Mithlond falls still in the greys of time

 in search of golden eyes

Will lead the world out of grey

And into the light of day

into the hands of men.

#hobbit #lotr #thranduil #lotr frodo #oc #fanfic #fanfiction #quotev #writer #coauthors #love #romance #lord of the rings #fantasy #bilbo baggins #fellowship of the ring #arwen #elves #sindar #noldor #elrond #rivendell #mirkwood #lothlorien #dwarfs #king under the mountain #thorin #Oakenshield #kili oakenshield #thorin oakenshield

[d3-iseefire]

Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves

This is the first chapter of my most popular fanfic. You can read the rest here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579232/chapters/3626882

The sky burned.

Bilba huddled in a small niche just inside the gates of Moria and watched quietly.

Dragons, scores of them, swarmed in a frenzied dance. Even at a distance Bilba could easily tell the difference between them. The ones the orcs used were small, about the size of a warg, stocky with short wings that barely got them off the ground. All of them were the same yellowish white color and if they possessed any intelligence of their own she had never witnessed it.

The dragons the dwarves rode were on a different level entirely.

They rode Firedrakes.

The creatures were massive, long and snakelike, their bodies coiling through the air in movements of pure grace. They came in the color of jewels, shimmering and sparkling as they wove in battle with the orcs.

Rushing feet sounded as a new wave of orcs raced past her out the gates. Bilba drew herself tighter into the alcove, pressing back into the shadows. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to see her and report it to Azog later. Her master often punished her for imagined disobedience. The punishment for actual disobedience would be a thousand times worse. He did so enjoy being creative.

Her eyes were drawn out the gate again, away from the dragons to the battle happening on the rocky plain outside. The landscape was crawling with warriors, the bodies of the dead and dying scattered about like macabre decorations. She had no idea why they were there or why wave after wave continued to surge forward only to break upon the never-ending wall of orcs pouring from the mines.

Some of the injured screamed in pain and, as she watched, others darted forward to drag them to safety, risking their own lives in the process.

A memory flickered deep in her subconscious, her mother risking a beating by comforting a dying slave. Bilba hadn't understood. The slave had barely been there a week, neither of them had any connection to him, why would her mother risk a beating? A beating could cause an infection or, worse, slow you down and have you labeled as no longer useful.

Because, her mother's words floated back to her, I am not an orc and I will not behave like one.

Her mother's eyes burned into Bilba from deep within her mind.

And neither will you.  

An ear-splitting roar suddenly sounded from overhead, causing her to start, her mind snapping back to the present. The sound was so loud she could feel the rock vibrating around her. A massive, blood-red dragon burst from the pack. Flame erupted from its maw, barely missing many of the orcs and dwarves below. On its back she caught a glimpse of a single rider, a middle aged dwarf with a long decorated beard. A moment later the dragon and rider were gone, the dragon shooting straight up and vanishing into the clouds. Several orcs gave chase, disappearing quickly after them.

A second scream, this time from a dwarven throat, rang out and Bilba followed it to where Azog stood on a low outcropping of rock. His arm was outstretched and dangling from his hand was the severed head of a dwarf. White hair tangled in Azog’s fingers, trailing down to the macabre object swaying lightly in the breeze.

A dwarf burst through the ranks, stepping forward to face Azog. He was young, tall and broad chested with long dark hair and a short beard.

Azog stepped forward to meet him and Bilba tensed, rising up just a little to see.

The battle closed about them and she lost sight of them. She waited, hoping they would reappear but, after several minutes, there was still no sign.

She sighed in disappointment. She’d been hoping the dwarf would kill Azog and she’d get to witness it.

Deciding she’d risked being there long enough she carefully edged her way out of the alcove and headed back into Moria.

She kept herself low, scuttling past legions of orcs rushing outside. They paid her no notice, eager to be out in the thick of battle.

The sounds of fighting didn’t fade until she was several levels below the surface. Here the corridors were less populated as almost all of the mines had emptied into the upper levels.

All that had been left were the slaves. Orcs preferred hobbits as slaves as they were small and generally peaceful, offering little resistance. It didn’t prevent them, however, from taking humans, dwarves and even the occasional elf slave as well. Any who gave them too much trouble was simply killed and replaced with one less likely to cause problems.

The ones she passed now huddled together in masses, half-starved, filthy and beaten.

Bilba knew she looked little better. The rags she used for clothing hung off her and dirt was ground so deep into her skin it would probably never come off. Her hair was shorn close to her head to try and prevent lice and, combined with a frame so thin it was nearly skeletal, made her gender almost impossible to tell. Most of the slaves had long ago forgotten she was female, half the time she was pretty sure Azog had forgotten as well. It meant little to her either way, gender had no meaning in the mines. Male or female, elf, dwarf or hobbit, all suffered and died exactly the same.

She padded down even lower. There were fewer fires, forcing her to find her way by memory alone and the cold beneath her bare feet became intense.

Finally she reached an enormous chamber lit only by the barest number of torches in sconces on the walls.

The faint light illuminated the firedrake that dominated most of the room. She'd been dragged in nearly a month earlier, after she and her rider had the misfortune of traveling too close to Moria and had been beset by orcs and their dragons. From what Bilba had heard, the drake had been injured and forced to crash into the mountainside.

It had taken nearly a week to get her inside and her shrieks of pain had nearly deafened them all. They’d been so loud that Bilba still could swear she heard them sometimes in the upper levels, echoing off the rock.

It had taken the slaves another week to scrub the blood she’d trailed behind her from the stone.

Her rider had been nearly out of his mind, roaring obscenities and fighting to get to her. He’d broken an arm in the process and hadn’t seemed to notice.

Neither one made a sound now.

The firedrake had fallen asleep within days of being brought down and hadn’t woken since. She still breathed but responded to nothing, not even the cries of her rider when Azog tortured him to try and bring her around.

Bilba shuffled forward carefully just in case the dragon chose that exact moment to wake up. When they’d first brought her in she’d been a brilliant gold color but now had faded to a pale yellow. Her sides barely moved and there were long pauses between each breath.

Staying as quiet as possible, Bilba moved around until she found the rider. He, as always, was tucked just behind the dragon’s foreleg, against her stomach. When he’d first come in he’d been wearing rich clothing and armor. He’d been big and powerful with long blond hair and a thick beard.

Now he looked markedly different. The orcs had taken his armor and most of his clothing leaving him with only his trousers and a shirt. They’d ripped out his beard and his hair was disheveled and matted. Dirt and blood caked his body, which was now far thinner than when he’d come in, and numerous welts and lash marks striped his flesh. A thick manacle was locked around his left ankle, clanking loudly every time he so much as shifted.

Moving closer she knelt next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the sharp point of his shoulder beneath the skin.

He twitched and opened his eyes, the once brilliant blue now faded.

“Ah, my little guard,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “It’s been awhile hasn’t it?”

Bilba nodded. It had been about a day and a half since she’d seen him last. The orcs couldn’t be bothered to look after their slaves when a battle raged so she’d spent the time scrounging every scrap of food she could to hand out to them. Most of them had been too terrified of Azog, or anything associated with him, to even look at her but they'd accepted the food nonetheless. Bilba didn't begrudge them their rejection of her, she'd have done the same thing in their place. She still helped them regardless of how they treated her. It was what her mother would have wanted.

The dwarf shifted, grimacing in pain. The arm he’d broken was strapped to his side with strips of his shirt, what was left of it. She’d helped him set it as best she could and wrapped it.

“So,” he said, blinking his eyes in an apparent effort to clear his mind. "What’s going on? There seem to be far fewer orcs scuttling around down here than usual.”

Bilba frowned. In the time he’d been there the dwarf, whose name he still refused to give lest an orc be around to hear, had been teaching her a hand language. He called it Iglishmek and stated they would be able to talk to one another once she’d learned it.

She hadn’t learned very much yet, however, so she struggled to convey to him what was happening overhead.

He must have gotten the idea because his entire demeanor changed, his body straightening and a strange light entering his eyes.

“They came for me,” he whispered.

Bilba gave him a skeptical look. Why would an entire army come for him? He was just one person. Even the drake wasn’t that special, to the dwarves at least. They had many others. She almost asked him but he was indicating for her to continue so she put it aside and did so. Her grasp of the hand language was soon exhausted and she had to resort to a mix of Iglishmek and pantomime. When she got to the point about Azog and the decapitated dwarf she was startled when the rider’s hand suddenly stopped her wrist with a surprisingly strong grip.

“Describe him.”

Bilba obeyed, carefully using what words she knew. When it came to the color of the dwarf’s hair she pointed to her own eyes, indicating the white area outside of the iris.

The rider looked as though he’d been struck. Bilba watched as his face crumpled and he actually seemed to shrink inward. He released her wrist and hunched in on himself, drawing up his knees and wrapping his good arm around them, his fingers digging into his calf so hard the knuckles turned white.

He made a strange sound and then another, his shoulders shaking.

He was crying.

She hesitated and then stretched a hand out to rest lightly on his shoulder. The rider had been kind to her. He spoke to her instead of at her, like she was an actual person and not just a slave. It had been so long since anyone had done that, she'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

He took a deep breath and looked up. His eyes were red- rimmed but when he spoke his voice was strong.

“Continue.”

Bilba described the dark haired dwarf and the rider smiled bitterly.

“Fool,” he said, “he better not get himself killed.”

Bilba frowned and struggled to remember the right signs to question how the rider knew the other dwarf.

Words suddenly ripped like blades into her mind, shredding her shields, and Bilba leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her waist and pressing her forehead into the ground. Pain bloomed in her head, pounding behind her temples and sparking down her nerves until her entire body shivered with it.

 COME, HALFLING. NOW.

Bilba let loose a small whimper and now it was the rider who leaned forward to place a hand on her shoulder, his grip strong.

“It’s alright, breathe through it.”

The first time it he’d witnessed Azog ripping through her mental shields and sending words into her mind like weapons he’d tried to help her. For a split second she’d felt the rider’s shields expand to cover hers, protecting her against Azog’s attack.

Azog had been angry. He’d taken it out on her, ignoring the rider’s screams about it being his fault and demanding any punishment be laid on him.

Azog didn’t care. He was teaching a lesson.

It had been learned.

The rider didn’t try to help her again.

Bilba grit her teeth, wrapping her arms around her torso and struggling to her feet. The last thing she wanted was for Azog to speak to her again.

The rider was staring at her, his eyes dark.

Bilba gave him a pained half smile and left, hurrying back through the corridors and levels until she’d reached the top.

The battle appeared to be over. She no longer heard the noise of it or the roaring of dragons from outside the gates. Orcs no longer raced outside but instead straggled back in. Many were injured and she knew most would be killed in the coming days, if they weren’t lucky enough to die on their own.

Weakness was not tolerated among the orcs.

A roar that was unmistakably Azog came from the direction of his room and she hurried in that direction.

Upon taking over Moria, Azog had located the royal wing and promptly moved in. The room she entered was enormous and filled with treasures and rich tapestries abandoned by the dwarves when they’d fled.

Azog was lying on the massive, four poster bed with multiple orcs holding him down. Blood was spraying everywhere and as Bilba approached she was stunned to see one of his arms was missing, removed completely just below the elbow.

A fierce joy rose in her at the thought the wound could very well prove fatal. This feeling was followed immediately by an equal amount of fear of what might happen to her once he died. The average life expectancy for a slave could be measured in a handful of years. Bilba had only lasted as long as she had because Azog had taken a special interest in her and claimed her as his personal slave. If he were gone it was unlikely whatever orc replaced him would want her around. She’d either be killed outright or be sent back to the general slave populace, where she would undoubtedly die quickly.

One of the orcs holding him down snarled at her and she jumped. She left and gathered the few medical items the orcs possessed. If Azog had been anyone else he’d have been left to die. It was very possible he might still be killed by someone hoping to take his position.

After returning with the supplies, and having them wrenched from her arms by the orcs, Bilba quietly took her spot on the small pile of filthy rags she called a bed in the far corner of the room. The arm and leg manacles she normally wore were piled there but she hadn’t had them on in a month. Azog had removed them to speed her trips to and from the rider. So far he either hadn’t seen fit to put them on again or had forgotten she was no longer wearing them altogether.

Bilba felt it was probably the latter and had tried to stay as quiet and out of his way as possible, in the hopes he wouldn’t remember.

In spite of the rudimentary attempt at medical care, or perhaps because of it, the wound soon developed an infection. For the next two days Bilba stayed mostly in her corner, out of the way and hoping fervently Azog died. She tried to keep herself awake in the hopes someone would sneak in during the night to kill him and she could cheer them on.

Eventually Azog developed a high fever and began ranting and raving in delirium. Concerned she’d be blamed if he hurt himself Bilba finally got up and alerted a few of the orcs that she knew were loyal to him. She deliberately did so as slowly as possible, taking a full hour just to reach them.

Once they had headed off to his room Bilba went back down to check on the rider. On the way she scrounged up a few scraps of food and some brackish water to take with her.

The dragon was even worse, her breathing shallow and with long gaps between each breath.

The rider was awake. His eyes were fixed straight ahead and, at first, he didn’t seem to notice Bilba’s approach.

She knelt before him and offered the meager items she’d been able to find.

His eyes shifted to her and he gave a weak smile.

“Thank you.”

Bilba nodded and settled back as he ate. Her own stomach growled at her, reminding her how long it’d been since she’d eaten, but she ignored it.

A portion of the food, about half, slid into her view. Bilba shook her head but the rider insisted.

“Eat it.”

She sighed in exasperation but obeyed. The food did little more than wake her stomach up to greater hunger pains but it was better than nothing.

“What’s been happening?”

Bilba explained as best she could.

The dwarf nodded, his eyes lighting up at the mention of Azog’s injury. “Do you know what happened to the dwarf that fought him?”

Bilba shook her head.

He nodded and leaned back, his face tightening in pain for a brief moment before smoothing out again.

“And you say the battle appears to be over.” He sighed. “The orc presence is too strong here. I could have told them it would be futile.”

He was silent a long time after that. Bilba settled in next to him and studied the flickering patterns cast on the wall by the torches. She was very good at staying quiet.

“Does anyone know you’re down here?” The rider asked, the oddest look on his face.

Bilba shook her head. Generally Azog locked a metal collar around her throat at night, ensuring she couldn’t leave her corner. He couldn’t do it in his current condition, however, and no one else had bothered.

The rider closed his eyes, his lips moving soundlessly and his face twisting as though in some horrible pain though she couldn't see any new injuries on him.

He struggled to his feet, his movements stiff and awkward. Moving slowly and carefully, one leg dragging from the weight of the manacle, he made his way to the dragon’s head and knelt. He stretched out his arms and lay his upper body across its massive snout like a child might hug a parent when a nightmare became too horrible to bear alone. For several long seconds he was completely silent. Then, in a voice almost to low to hear, he began to speak.

Bilba recognized the language she sometimes heard the few dwarf slaves speak. She didn’t understand the words but recognized the pain in his voice well enough.

The dragon never responded. The rider continued to speak, grief leaking into his voice. His head lowered and his voice gradually grew quieter.

The dragon’s breathing began to slow.

Bilba held still, as if by doing so she could pause time. She’d done much the same thing after her mother became ill.  

The dragon breathed in and then exhaled, her sides deflating.

She did not inhale again.

The dwarf put his hands on both sides of her snout and leaned forward, his forehead resting against her. Bilba heard him let out a single sob, his shoulders shaking.

She got up and started to take a step forward but he was already pushing away and standing up. His face was bone white and the look in his eyes was one of utter devastation.

“I need a knife.”

Bilba frowned, her hands half forming a question.

He shook his head. “Now, please.”

Something in his voice sounded fractured. She’d heard that sound only once before, in her mother’s voice right before she died.

 “Tell him, Bilba. Promise me you’ll tell him.”

She had promised then.

She obeyed now.

It wasn’t hard to find a blade, orcs weren’t known for their organization or cleanliness. She only had to go a few hundred feet out of the cavern before coming across a number of weapons scattered about. Most had been taken off captives and cast to the side or carried for a while before the orc had grown tired of it.

She caught the slight glint of metal in a corner, partly under some rocks, and dragged the weapon out. It was a beautiful long dagger, practically a sword for her, elvish looking in design with curling script etched into the blade. She hefted it in one hand and hurried back to the rider.

He was sitting against the dragon’s silent body when she returned, eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

When she offered the weapon he got up and took it from her. The look in his eyes was vacant, like he had been the one to die and not the dragon.

“Look away,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

Bilba lifted her hands, confused.

“Now,” he ordered, his voice brooking no defiance.

Bilba flinched, reacting almost viscerally to the tone of command, and obediently turned her back.

There was silence behind her, for a long time.

She heard the rider take a deep breath and then a horrific squelching sound. Without thinking, Bilba turned around, just in time to see the rider use his good arm to drive the sword a second time into the belly of the dragon. Bilba raised an eyebrow in surprise. Did dwarves eat their dragons, then, as orcs did? She had no idea what dragon tasted like but always imagined it must be good as the orcs certainly hoarded it tightly enough. Azog in particular guarded the meat of the orc dragons like it was gold, storing it in his chambers in such quantities the smell alone made Bilba want to throw up.

The rider drove the knife in again, slicing deep. Blood sprayed out, drenching his hair and staining his clothes. He threw the sword down, his movements angry, and then shoved his way inside the dragon's stomach.

That was something she'd never seen before. What in all of Middle Earth was he DOING?

He returned a few seconds later, gasping out the breath he’d been holding, his entire body so covered in blood and gore he looked more like a monster than a dwarf. He carried something awkwardly in one arm but she couldn't see what it was under all the blood and whatever else covering him.

The rider nodded toward the sword on the ground. "Take that and strap it on."

Bilba gave him an incredulous look. Had he gone out of his mind? She would be killed, instantly, the second an orc saw her with a weapon.

His eyes narrowed for a second and then changed, grief clouding them. "Please."

Bilba sighed, she supposed she could humor him. The orcs were all on the upper levels anyway and she could just take the weapon off as soon as she left the room. She moved forward and picked it up, ripping part of the remnants of a sleeve off to use to tie the sword to her waist.

"It'll have to do for now," the rider said. He shifted and held out whatever was in his arm. "Here, take her."

Her?

At his insistence Bilba put her hands out and had the object placed in them. Warmth flooded her palms, followed by the unmistakable feel of something breathing. The realization she was holding a living creature startled her so badly she very nearly dropped it but recovered at the last second and pulled it close.

She could see now, through the blood, that what she was holding was a baby dragon. The tiny creature fit easily into her arms, its eyes closed and tiny wings were folded across its back.

"You have to get her out of here."

Bilba looked up at him, stunned. She had to do what?

"Please," the rider said again, "please, you know what will happen if Azog gets her." He rattled the manacle on his leg. "I can't go so it has to be you." There was a desperation in his voice, his eyes wide and frantic.

He was right about Azog. Bilba had no doubt the orc would TRY to keep the baby alive but she also had no doubt he would fail. There was no way something this small could survive in the mines of Moria. She had survived but that had been a fluke, a miracle.

Azog would kill the baby just as he'd killed the mother and just as he would undoubtedly kill the rider once he found out what had happened. Her eyes went to the manacle and she mentally cursed the fact that she didn't know where Azog kept the key to it.

The rider grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "You can do this," he whispered, voice intense. "I know you can. Get her out of here. The dwarven army should still be in the area. Go to them, they'll protect you both."

Bilba began to tremble. She'd never known anything but the mines, could she actually survive outside? On her own?

 Free?

She didn't even know what the word meant. It was an abstract concept. Her mother had tried to teach her but, having never experienced it, Bilba had no way to truly know what it was.

"I know you're scared," the rider said, "I do, but do you really want to stay? Would you rather risk dying out there, or in here?"

Out there.

The answer was instant. She wanted to experience the stories her mother had always told her. Stories of dragons and the sky, of the feel of grass under her feet and the wind in her hair.

Fear continued to inch along her nerves but now it was accompanied by a strange thrill, an excitement almost. She could feel her eyes widen, her breathing coming in short gasps.

She'd dreamed of this for so long, could she really do it?

What if the orcs caught her?

What if they didn't?

The rider stepped forward and hugged her suddenly, his good arm wrapping around her, careful of the baby dragon. Bilba barely had time to react to it before he was stepping back, smiling at her.

"Hurry," he said. "Every second you tarry is another second the army moves farther away. Go to them, quickly."

Bilba nodded, shaky and turned to leave.

As she reached the door she cast one final look back to see the rider had taken up a position by the dragon's snout. He had a leg drawn up and an arm thrown over his knee. His head was tilted back to rest against the dragon and, even from where she stood, Bilba could see the tears streaming down his face.

She turned away again, facing the dark opening that led into the rest of the mines. She moved quickly after that, keeping to the shadows. It was easy that far down, there were few orcs and the slaves were all asleep. The ones who were awake didn't look at her, as usual, allowing her to walk right past without them giving her a second thought.

The shaking in her body grew worse the higher she went, as did the doubt.

What was she doing? She'd never make it through the gates. She'd be stopped and dragged before Azog. He'd take the baby and kill her and then what would she have accomplished other than her own death?

She should just take the baby to Azog. Throw the sword aside and take the baby to him and pretend like that had been her plan all along.

Bile rose in her throat and she bit it back even as her legs continued to carry her onward.

More orcs began to appear, most of them asleep in various corners and halls. The ones who were awake ignored her as she skittered past.

When she reached the front gate she stopped and stared, half convinced she was dreaming. Had she truly made it so far?

She stepped forward slowly, stopping just short of a patch of moonlight illuminating the rock outside the gates. A cool breeze drifted in from outside, wrapping around her body. By this time she was shaking so hard it was a wonder she didn't shatter into a million pieces. Her stomach was in knots and breathing was difficult.

She didn't know how long she stood there. There was no concern for a guard, the orcs were so convinced they could repel any attacker that they didn't bother to post one. It was now beginning to occur to Bilba that they were equally convinced the slaves were all so terrified that they wouldn't dare try to escape.

She imagined that would change after they realized she was gone.

In her arms the tiny dragon shifted, snuggling into her arms and settling itself once more. Bilba looked down at it and, again, imagined what would happen if someone like Azog got his hands on it.

You are not an orc, her mother's voice whispered once more, be sure you never act like one.

Bilba took a deep breath and let it out. Her stomach settled somewhat and an almost trancelike peace settled over her.

She stepped through the gates.

Halfway across the world, Fili, Crown Prince of Erebor, woke up from a dead sleep with a gasp.

Stumbling out of bed, the young prince ran out of his rooms and to one down the hall. Shoving the door open he raced across the floor, barely feeling the cold rock against his bare feet, and lunged into the bed, shaking its occupant.

"Kili! Kili! Wake up!"

Kili woke up with a start, automatically reacting in self-defense and lashing out at the form attacking him. Fili evaded the attack easily and wound up straddling his little brother, pinning him until Kili woke up entirely and recognized him. Even then he didn't move because it was nice to prove he could still kick his brother's butt even if Kili seemed intent on catching up with him in height.

"Fili," Kili said conversationally, "something I can do for you?"

Fili grinned at him widely. "My dragon was just born."

Kili blinked at him, his sleep heavy mind slowly processing the words. Then his eyes widened in shock. A moment later the world tilted wildly and Fili found himself flat on his back, his brother sitting on his chest smugly.

"Are you serious?" Kili asked, "you've felt it?"

"I did indeed," Fili answered, trying, unsuccessfully to flip his little brother off and then trying, equally unsuccessfully, to look at though he were  allowing Kili to continue pinning him.

"That's fantastic!" Kili said then almost immediately frowned as a look of confusion entered his eyes. "I don't understand though, who's expecting right now?"

"No one that I know of," Fili said, "it must have been an early birth."

"Well, in that case," Kili drawled, "let's go find out, shall we?"

He scrambled off the bed and Fili rushed after him, racing him down the halls until they reached the levels where the dragons rested.

The dark, quiet levels.

Fili frowned in confusion, skidding to a halt at the entrance. For a birth the area should have been a hive of activity. Every rider within the mountain would have been awakened by their dragon...which, now that he thought about it...

"You weren't alerted?" He asked Kili.

Kili shook his head, looking as though he'd just thought of it himself. He tilted his head to one side and got a far off look in his eyes, a look Fili had longed to have himself for longer than he could remember.

After a moment Kili came back to himself, his expression one of confusion. "Lyth says there have been no births."

"But that's not possible," Fili said in desperation, "I know I felt it!"

"Maybe it was a wild drake," Kili said, reaching out to grab Fili's shoulder. "There are some still out there. Maybe it's--"

He went white, his eyes widening and a look of horror crossing his features.

Fili felt a surge of panic and he reached out to grab his brother's tunic. "Kili? What's wrong? What is it?"

Kili swallowed. "I just--I just thought of something."

"What?" Fili asked.

Kili looked at him and Fili could see he was struggling to decide whether or not to tell him.

"Quenth," he whispered finally. "She's pregnant, but she isn't due for months so I didn't think -- I mean, it COULDN'T be her, could it?"

Fili's hand went slack and fell off his brother's shirt. He staggered until his back hit the wall and then slid down in a boneless heap against it.

"Finally," he said numbly. "I've finally heard it." He looked at Kili and saw the pain in his brother's face that he was sure was reflected in his own.

"I heard it...and you're telling me it comes from the depths of Moria?"

"Uncle is there," Kili said, his voice desperate. "He'll -- he'll do something. I'm sure of it."

His tone rang false even as he said it and Fili didn't bother to answer him.

They both knew that, regardless of what happened, nothing would be the same ever again.

#The Hobbit #Fanfic #Fanfiction #My Writing #Female Bilbo #Fili #Romance #Action #Adventure #Dragons #AU #Tolkien #lord of the rings #LOTR

[catyo90]

The Hunt: Chapter 32

The morning had come quicker than Y/n wished. However, the sight before her was one she would always find comfort no matter what. She had woken before any of the others, she had walked around to see if the young halfling was up to which he was not. When she returned to the fireplace she saw Thorin and the others still asleep as she had also noticed that the sun through in the sky had not passed over the land yet. She placed herself next to the fireplace to see it still quite warm even though there was nothing but embers. Thorin slept quite peacefully for a change as he laid on the floor with his hair lightly ruffled around his face as the clothes he wore the night before showing off a small portion of his chest. She smiled as she laid back down next to him and careful not to wake him. Luckily Thorin had not felt her closer or heard her steps. She cuddled close to him and smiled to herself as the smell of the woods and grass from last night enveloped the both of them. Suddenly she felt Thorin’s arms wrapped around her shoulders bring her a smidge closer to him. A low rumble in his throat caused her to blush as he mumbled in his sleep. The moment could have lasted forever for her but soon reality came. 

Once the sun peeked itself over the horizon. Thorin opened his eyes quite suddenly as he noticed Y/n in his arms. He looked around to see the others starting to wake up. With a small shake to Y/n, he tried to gently wake her.

“Y/n, Time to go.”

She woke with a small yawn covered as she stretched her whole body. He smiled at her not wishing to wake as he helped her stand up. A small knock on the door caught everyone's attention. Y/n decided to head to the washroom to tidy herself up while Fili opened the door and called out to everyone.

“It’s just Gandalf.”

Y/n could hear Gandalf grumble at the statement as she walked into the other room but soon heard him being let inside as the others started to pack up their belongings. Thorin helped everyone outside, Gandalf noticed Bilbo wasn’t awake and was about to walk into his room before Balin stopped him.

“The lad never signed the contract. Besides he is better off here with the other gentlefolk.”

Gandalf mumbled to himself as the others started to walk out of the home leaving for the lands beyond the Shire. Y/n asked for Gandalf to come with as he looked like he was thinking to himself. As he joined her and offered to close the door for her she noticed that the contract was left on the table in the living room, she gave Gandalf a smirk as they caught up with the others. Once they had passed over the hills and had reached the edge of the shire they found a dozen ponies as well as Gandalf’s horse. The entire group started to prepare the ponies for travel as they mounted them. Y/n was given some help from Kili as Fili made sure both his and his brothers wouldn’t roam away. Bombur had to be given help by Bofur and Bifur as he couldn’t get a foot into the stirrups, as for the others they didn't seem to have any trouble. 

As they started to venture on, Y/n turned her horse around to look at the Shire once more. The sight was one she could get used to. The trees turned to a vibrant green as the smell of breakfast being cooked in their homes while the sounds of the day started to wake everyone up. Thorin seeing her taking in the view made him smile as he crossed his arms as he leaned on the saddle at the sight before him. Her silver hair blew ever so little as the sun made her skin gleam like diamonds and her clothes wrapped around her fame only making her more intoxicating to him. Y/n moved a bit of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear as she turned around to see Thorin smiling at her. She couldn’t help but blush at gesture as she gently turned her pony into his direction. As she slowly passed him, she placed a kiss on his cheek. Thorin chuckled to himself as the two of them started to head to the front of the group.

After about an hour of traveling, Thorin and Gandalf were arguing to each other on the wasted time they had with Bilbo as the others had their own arguments about the event.

“Wait! Stop!”

Y/n stopped her horse as she heard and saw Bilbo running over the hill waving the contract frantically in his hand with a small pack on his back with a bit of dirt on his feet. 

“I signed it.”

Bilbo said as he gave a quick smile over to Gandalf and Balin as some of the other dwarves cheered on. Y/n look over at Thorin to see he was a bit annoyed and not all that impressed, however, she could have sworn she saw him with the faintest of smirks

“Give him a pony.”

“Oh no that won’t be necessary, thank you, but I--I’m sure I can keep up on foot. I-- I--I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once--WAGH!”

Bilbo was cut off as Kili and Fili managed to lift him up onto one of the ponies. Both of them gave him pats on the back as well as a few laughs at his struggle of riding it. Y/n noticed that he was a little terrified of the creature as it neighed causing him to feel a bit uncomfortable. She turned to Thorin holding her hand out in front of him, he sighed as he placed a little bit of silver in her hand. Bilbo noticed Oin yelling to Nori for payment as well. Bilbo who had managed to catch up with Gandalf seemed curious about the matter.

“What’s that about?”

“Oh, they took wages, on whether or not you would show up.”

“And what did you think?”

Gandalf hummed to himself as Dwalin tossed a sack of coin to him putting it inside his pocket. 

“My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.”

Bilbo sneezed loudly causing Gandalf to flinch ever so slightly.

 “Ohh. All this horse hair, I’m having a reaction.”

He started searching his pockets for his handkerchief. He started to worry as he was unable to find it. He pulled the reigns on his horse and yelled out to the others.

“No, no, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around.”

The entire company came to a halt, the dwarves started objecting and asking what the problem was. Thorin looked very much annoyed as Y/n rode closer to Bilbo and Gandalf who at this point was also a little bit annoyed as well.

“What on earth is the matter?”

“I forgot my handkerchief.”

Bofur tore a strip of cloth from his clothing and tossed it to Bilbo. 

“Here! Use this.”

Bilbo caught the rag and looked at it in disgust. Everyone started to laugh and continue on as Thorin called for the other to follow. Y/n heard Thorin yell to the others and joined him.

“Move on.”

Gandalf and Bilbo continued on as well. Gandalf looked at Bilbo as he spoke the wisest words that Y/n had ever heard.

 “You’ll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins before we reach our journey’s end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead.”

As soon as the sun had set the company had ended up camping for the night near the edge of a cliff. The others were so tired that they fell asleep a few hours early. As Gloin slept tiny flying insects got sucked into his mouth every time he inhaled, and they were expelled when he exhaled. Bilbo started to toss and turn as the sound kept him up, he sat up watching in disgust. Bilbo stood up and started to walk away from the racket, he noticed Y/n sleeping next to Thorin and for the first time, he could have sworn he was smiling. Most of the other dwarves were asleep; Gandalf, Fili, and Kili were the only ones awake. As Bilbo walked over to his pony giving her an apple, after checking to see that no one was looking.

“Hello, girl. That’s a good girl. It’s our little secret, Myrtle; you must tell no one. sh, sh”

[Bilbo heard a scream in the night air and become worried as he started to back up, looking over his shoulder and around. He ran over to Fili and Kili who were both smoking a bit of old toby. Bilbo noticed the two of them acknowledging the sound

“What was that?”

“Orcs.”

Suddenly another scream filled the air. Thorin, who was dozing off jerked awake upon hearing his nephews mentioning orcs. Y/n instantly awoke, upon noticing he was quite tense placed a hand on his chest to calm him. He looked down at her and grumbled as his nephews continued to scare poor Bilbo, that he looked as pale as the moon.

“Orcs?”

“Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them.”

“They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood.”

Bilbo looks away in fright; Fili and Kili looked at each other and began laughing to each other. Thorin stood up and signed in disappointment as he looked down on them for them joking about orcs

“You think that’s funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.”

Kili said as he looked down at his hands knowing full well of his uncle disappointment and frustration.

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.”   

Thorin walked away from the two of them off to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the valley as Y/n walked over to join him she gave Kili and Fili a look of disapproval, which for them was even worse; Balin walked up to Fili and Kili leaning against the stone cave as he sighed.

“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first.”

As Balin spoke Thorin membered every moment of that battle, thousand upon thousands of dwarves and orcs fighting in the front of the gates of Moria. The massive pale orc wiping out many dwarves with his mace, then engaging with his grandfather.

“Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the vilest of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King.”

Thorin felt Y/n hand on his as the image of Azog holding up his grandfathers beheaded head as he roared to his army as he flung the head, which ended up rolling to his feet. The pain once more caused him to scowl at the unpleasant memory.

“Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us.”

Balin smiled as he looked at Bilbo turning to see Thorin looking into Y/n eyes as she continued to hold his hand with the other on his cheek

 “That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc.”

Y/n mind began to imagine, as the story was one she was told in vast detail when he returned, Thorin facing Azog; Azog swinging his mace and knocking away Thorin’s shield, then his sword. With the image of Thorin falling down an embankment and landing on the ground.

“He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield”

Thorin smiled to himself as the memory of him grabbing a sword lying nearby, cutting off Azog’s left arm in the process causing Azog to clutch the stump of his arm as he began howling in pain.

“Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.”

Kili and Fili looked at each other with great pride as Bilbo seemed to be in a trance as Balin told the story.

“Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived.”

Y/n looked up into Thorin’s eyes to see all the pain resurface, for it was pain that she knew all too well. She wrapped her arms around him as he, in turn, accepted her comfort. It had become one of a few things he found to make him happy.

 “And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.”

Thorin released Y/n from his embrace as he turned around to see the entire Company awake and standing in awe, staring at him. Thorin walked between them toward the fire. Holding Y/n hand in his. Bilbo looked at Balin slightly confused as he brought his focus to Thorin as he asked

“But the pale orc? What happened to him?”

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago.” 

Thorin had returned to his spot as the others returned to where they slept. Balin smiled as Kili and Fili started to feel the exhaustion cause them to fall asleep. Bilbo looked over to see Thorin readying for bed but noticed Y/n walking up to him. 

“Take this Bilbo, I have no need of it. Perhaps it will give you comfort on this journey.”

Y/n held out her hand holding a purple handkerchief with silver trims with her initials on it. A simple token from her brother when she was much younger but it held only sad memories for her. Thorin called for her to bed to which she hurried to but not before bidding the young hobbit good night. Little did the company know that they were being hunted.

#the hobbit #The Hunt #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x reader #enjoy #chapter 32 #@thewildomega #romance

[blankdblank]

Mine

Tags –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @abiwim, @jotink78, @c-s-stars

…

What’s yours will not be for long. All I have promised you will be stripped from your life until my rival is named. Those rasped words echoed in your mind through the ages. Dark and terrified Lord Sauron sat helplessly aching over your latest refusal, but with his first darkened act you had been marked as his victim. Alone you wandered, because, at least in your mind you’d hoped you could outrun it, at least for a little while.

But alone is exactly where Mithrandir found you and asked for your aid, all those years ago you had been banished from Gondor after your near tossing their Prince into the flaming lava below. With a giant crater surrounded by cheering Elves you threw the screaming eight fingered Prince onto the back of the eagle that had come to save you and his Great, great, twenty times great Uncle Lord Elrond who cautiously joined you on the back of the winged creature for the short flight. Safe on the ground he and all his kin watched you glimpse at the blackened chain design coating your left hand under your gloves you folded back checking to see if your curse still held. Your aimless gaze faded off into the distance as you strolled through the parting crowds of cheering soldiers pausing and inspecting your morose expression.

.

Deep in the center of the woods around Bree not a far distance from Bombadil’s hut the tall grey cloaked Isitari found you humming as you helped a small duckling free from a tangle of branches hanging in the rivers edge holding it back from its kin. A single pleading sparkle in his eyes lured you into the company of 13 Dwarves and a terrified Hobbit.

.

The mountain was won and all the faith and trust placed in you fell helplessly to dust as the named acts you had performed by Lord Elrond were wiped from their King’s memory while he sunk deeper into his sickness.

Atop the overlook you climbed down the rope you’d found leaving the kind friends, that had like all the others turned and started to claim small pieces of what you had. Innocently at first, a snack here or there, up until a clear sound of tearing brought the last shirt you had, past the one you were wearing, being used to form a tie for one of their torn packs to hold it together. Eventually all kindness faded and you were strangers again while the bewildered Hobbit and silent Wizard looked on feeling your searing pain at the act you clenched your chain coated fist through and turned away leaving them only a glimpse of the glowing of the chains at the curse inflicting its cruel act on you.

Alone again you left without so much as a goodbye as your throat throbbed at the bruises forming there from the hand attempting to clench there to steal your very life halted by the Wizard as your arms gained a layer of their own at the others tearing you away from their company with accusations of their own. In a whisper you mumbled through a tear streaking down your cheek, “They know nothing…” Your mind slunk back to their accusations of thievery towards the Elf King soon flowing into their hatred of all Elves, once again not sparing you from it. Across the great plains under the faint moonlight from the sliver of a crescent moon in the sky you found the farthest unclaimed peak and made for it. Surely you could find some semblance of peace there.

..

Wrong, oh so ironically wrong again…With swords in hand you hacked your way through the legion of orcs and wargs before your hand dipped into your pack snagging your last sacred item, an elixir of pure starlight. Extended in your palm blinding light swept out around you washing the dark creatures free from these lands sending you to your knees panting. Curled against your chest as you wheezed the vial dimmed to its normal peaceful flicker as your eyes scanned over Azog’s severed head shifting as his Son’s lifeless arm slid free from his armor coated chest. Rolling your eyes you straightened up mumbling, “You’re Welcome Your Majesty” and shifted onto your feet again stashing your star away again then began to clear the orcs and wargs into a pit you dug and burned them, unknowingly stirring the eyes of the Elf guards in Northern Greenwood curious about the smoke in their old keep.

Through the keep you wandered and found a small nearly covered shed and secured an old broken set of doors to seal it before looking over the cold dirt you dug into to plant what would be your first crop of potatoes hopefully soon enough before the frost rolled in with winter after it.

..

Two days you camped in your little cubby safe from the first early chilly breeze until as the sun set you heard the mournful songs in deep throaty Khuzdul coming from the dungeons below. Step by step you searched until you had freed the twelve Dwarves, but kindness does little to earn trust with prisoners for decades in these cursed lands. Another thick hand clasped around your neck, this time from behind while another gripped your hair with four more grabbing your ankles. The cries of the bright blue eyed Dwarf fell deafly among his kin shouting curses at you between blows across your back and sides until the last final rough slam onto the freezing jaggedly scraped dust coated cell they locked you in. Through your last conscious moments their echoing laughter and comments against your race stung deeply, nearly burning as badly as the tears from your pinking eyes.

…

Echoes rippled through your dreams along with hushed Elven whispers leading to a shout for someone’s Father to aid them as the gate to the cell was torn off and cast to the depths below clanging loudly stirring you for just a moment from your painful dream. Thundering through the forest the Elf King clutched you to his chest until you could be transferred to a bed in the Elven Healing Wing. For days you were soaked and coated with various herbs and ointments until you woke with the mending of your last bruises peering up at the familiar room from your former stop in the Elven Kingdom.

No matter what they did or said you insisted that you had to leave again, at your side Thranduil stated, “Whatever you are searching for, please abandon it and remain here.”

His hand rested on your shoulder as tears filled his eyes remembering your bruise and blood coated form, “I am a poison that will corrupt your lands and people.”

“You would never cause us any harm, I am sure of it, and we would never betray your trust. Please stay.”

A tear slid down his cheek as you replied, “Through my life not once have any of my enemies betrayed me. I will not stay and destroy the friendship we have Your Majesty.”

Mournfully he turned watching you vanish into the distance slowly off to wherever you were headed, holding his eyes on the spot you had vanished to until the gates closed again. Silently praying you would survive until you could find your way back again to the safety of his Kingdom.

…

Days had passed and the sunken expression of the Company settled in place as their each and every slight towards you replayed in their minds. Each day without sight or word of you only broke their hearts deeper as Bilbo had accepted Gandalf’s offer to escort him back to Greenwood for an escort through it to head home again without any wish to remain after witnessing their sickness induced cruelty fearing he would be the next target. The darkness lifted from inside the Mountain and yet they never felt any lighter from the weight of their guilt. Silence filled their days as they refused to do much to clean their keep choosing to wallow in their unpolished halls until their kin had arrived, bearing their shame fully.

In the distance a group of withered Dwarves shouted at the figure on the overlook above the great gates. Their joyous shouts turned to shouts of rage as a familiar pair of daggers and a glowing vial of pure starlight erupted announcing its stolen status as it filled the mountain with blinding light cleansing any trace of darkness and sickness before it vanished in a burst of energy sending them all to their backs.

Clutching the dagger in his fist Thorin stood shouting at the now cowering Dwarf he had taken it from, “WHERE DID YOU GET THIS??!!”

In a wavering tone he trembled back, “It was taken off a thieving Elf.”

Another of the Dwarves nodded, “Aye! Stolen from our Southern kin, look at those runes!”

Thorin, “WHERE IS SHE?!”

Thrain mournfully stated, “She’s dead.”

Thorin replied in a shuttering whisper, “You’re lying.”

Thrain’s tear filled eyes met his kin’s as he recounted the tale, their only response to the returned Dwarves was a simple, “Get out.” Shaved and banished they left without what they had stolen from you as Thorin glanced up at Roac with tear filled eyes sending the nodding bird on a race to check the fortress for any sight of you as Thrain was led farther in the mountain through Thorin’s trip to the overlook awaiting word of your fate.

…

Rain poured heavily around you in your path to the denser part of the woods around you. Awkwardly you slipped from the top of a tall root landing heavily on your chest in the sights of a trio of blondes. The eldest brushing the others back out of sight while they peered on catching your pained stagger onto your feet revealing your now mud covered front matching your layers up to your knees and a good section of your fully mud coated silver curls now free from your braid completely sending a wave of water and mud over your chest, face and back in its sway. Warm tears through the cold rain slid down your cheeks as you peered upwards to find the robin you had asked to guide you to an abandoned cave it had mentioned. Barely able to contain your choked sob you drew in a shuddering breath and continued your painfully exhausting trek towards yet another mile of twisting roots as you shouldered the bag of supplies King Thranduil had gifted you.

The deer etched onto the strap of the bag and your deep brown hair causing them to believe you were a traveler from Greenwood, possibly a messenger. Without word on any awaited correspondence in need of a physical transport the guards drew back and lingered on the edge of your path until you stumbled fell to your knees at the base of the small peak the cave was in. A drop of blood fell from your lip as you bit back your pained whimper as the jagged rocks sliced through your already bruised knees. Panting heavily you dropped your bag beside you and sat beside the small pool forming at the base of the rain caused waterfall beside the cave’s entrance. As promised you passed your last bundle of grapes onto the bird while you tugged your boots off and eased your pants down, nearly causing the Elves to turn away until they spotted the shorter knee length pair underneath the layer of reinforced Elven under armor.

Gently you scrubbed your badly cut and bruised hands, then your knees, lower legs and feet with a healing bar of soap from your gifted supplies mending the small cuts leaving the shocking amount of bruises. Wincing you curled your legs and turned as you tugged out of your muddy jacket and outer shirt and armor leaving you in a thin under vest to dunk your head under the freezing pounding wave of water pouring into the pool below. Roughly your hands scrubbed your face and wrung out your hair when you pulled back. Quickly the youngest Brother’s mouth was covered after his gasp at the bright glowing silver haired Elleth in the flicker of moonlight in the brief break in the clouds. Your turn to look over the forest for the source their lips parted at the glowing purple eyes and blackened bruises coating your chest neck and half of your face.

Unable to find the source you stood collecting your bag to dress inside after dunking your clothes into the pool to briefly rinse them off and hang them inside before you changed out of your underwear and pulled on fresh layers you pulled over your armor once again. You softly panted inside the cave allowing your inner flames to grow drying you while warming the crevice you now called home as a familiar glowing vial fell into your lap stirring elated tears at the return of your Mother’s final gift to you.

..

By morning your presence was made aware to the Elf Lord, your description named you as one of his kin but he could not place any name to that pairing of features in these lands or even those in Valinor. A letter was sent to the Elf King requesting the name of the Elleth in question he had decided to be monitored but not aided just yet in case of your possible banishment. Timidly you exited your keep and sat on the edge of it removing your boots to finish scrubbing and allow to sun dry.

Around you the animals wandered curiously past you giving you inspecting glances while you snacked on your packs of lembas and wild berries you had found. Quietly sitting each day as the sun rose and fell while you inspected the outer borders of the Elven lands always feeling a constant set of eyes on you no matter what you did. Ducking inside the opening of your cave you spied on the swan shaped boat with the Elf Lord staring at you with a flat expression before he looked forward again towards the turn in the river leading them towards Greenwood.

The clearing of a throat brought the tall blonde guard into your view. His head bowed at your eyes landing on him through his cautious approach. “I have brought you some food.” His words sounding out in poor Silvan at his disinterest in practicing the ineloquent Elvish tongue.

Blinking at him you replied in Valinorian, “I did not think your Lord would grant me such kindness.”

His brow raised at the ancient tongue he was among the few in these lands to have learned it at his distant relation to an Ainuir. Through parted lips he replied, “My Lord has traveled to Greenwood to ask the King for any word on you.”

You nodded, “I would not wish for you to get in trouble over me. I can manage, thank you all the same for the though.”

Nodding his head he went to turn only to pause and bow his head, “If you are in need, I am Haldir, March Warden of this section of Lothlorien.”

You bowed your head in return, “My Ada named me Jaqiearae.”

A soft smile eased onto his lips as he turned to leave after stating, “Stay safe, My Lady.”

.

Day by day your eyes would find another familiar flash of blonde hair signaling the arrival of your friend you joined on his long treks through the forest between his constant offers of food and healing supplies only to be continuously turned down. Finally returned after a two week trip the Lord passed on your belongings the Dwarves had given to Thranduil in a gleeful mood at learning of your safety. With them were a bundle of apologies and requests to return to the Mountain to apologize in person and thank you properly and grant you a full seat of honor at the coronation.

Softly you smiled and accepted the full supplies and returned weapons as you listened to the guard’s full recounting of the full meeting along with the offer to house you in one of the quest quarters once you gave your full lineage for recording in their ledgers to know your kin and what they were capable of once Celeborn had heard Thranduil knew only your first name and no more about you. Lord Elrond had sent an even more startling letter when he confirmed you were the Elleth that he had watched destroy the ring ages ago. Each day you shared a bit more of your thoughts while the selfless Elf sent word of Lord Elrond’s trip with your Hobbit companion to join you after he had packed up his home and moved into Rivendell at Elrond’s kind offer before his usual refused offer of supplies.

Their arrival came with shrieks in the night. Thundering boots and gnawing jaws of wargs followed only to fall to your skilled swings and arrows until morning came leaving the trio of blondes searching for you. Their racing steps ending when they found you tucked between two woven roots, soft gasps left them at the slash you had tightly bound along your thigh still bleeding. Instantly you were scooped up and tucked in the arms of your kind hearted friend racing to get you to the healers. A single night of herbs and bathing and the repetition of the order for your lineage was repeated with a repetition that you would be forbidden to live in their guest quarters unless you released that name.

With your bag in your hand you went to stand only to be scooped up in your friend’s arms as he plainly stated before the stunned Elf Lords, “I will house you.”

Firmly Lord Celeborn stated, “Haldir, you know nothing of this woman.”

Haldir met his gaze and promptly replied, “Nor do you My Lord.”

He turned to walk through the door only to glance back at Bilbo’s approach as his hands fidgeted around a pack of tea he’d brought you, “Might, if you don’t mind that is, might I visit for some tea?”

Haldir’s head bowed, “Of course. You are the Lady’s ally, you are welcome in my home.” His smile dimming as he turned and led Bilbo through the winding floating bridges to his home he carried you through for a brief tour and left your bags in your small guest room then set you down in a comfortable chair in his sitting room as his Brother Rumil started on the tea.

Pt 2

#Haldir x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

[mrandrewbond]

My models of the Gundabad Ogres I did a while ago for my Middle-Earth Sketchbook.

#Gundabad Ogres #Azog's Legion #3d model #Middle-Earth strategy Battle game #Gundabad #the Hobbit #Lord of the Rings

[berjhawn]

Elastic Heart - Part 19 - Battle Begins

Warnings: Fighting, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, ETC

Pairings: Hobbit X OFC; Thranduil X OFC; Fili X OFC; LOTR X OFC

A/N: Since Tumblr is Broke you’ll have to go to my master-list to find all the other parts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a battle rages around me I look around to see all my friends fighting against the Orcs as one. Thranduil and Bard fight on in the city of Dale as the dwarves fight on upon the plains that lie before the mountain. I watch as Thorin, Kili, Dwalin, and Fili climb unto rams and head up to Ravenhill after Azog. I stare at them for a moment before I feel the scenery around me change. I look around to see ruins of an old watchtower and the smell of blood was thick on the air. 

I see no one as I slowly walk along until I reach the top of the tower. I look down at the plains to see the dwarves and elves over powering the Orcs with help from the eagles and Beorn and smile. I hear something behind me and I turn to see Fili walking toward me a smile on his face. I smile back at him and as he reaches me I wrap my arms around him. 

“I missed you.” I say to him but he doesn’t reply he just gently cups my face in his hands and gently places a kiss on my lips. I feel heat fill my body as my eyes close and our kiss is deepened. Suddenly he pulls away and I look into his eyes to see them slowly growing cold.

He looks down and I follow his gaze to see a sword plunged into his back. My eyes widen as I cry out in anguish. He turns away from me and I see Azog standing behind him. Fili stumbles and as I reach out to grab him he falls over the edge of the tower and tumbles to the ground. I stare wide eyed at his lifeless body before I look back to see Azog was gone. 

I look around and see Kili fighting with Bolg to protect Tauriel when he is suddenly impaled as well. Tears pour from my eyes as I watch Tauriel fight against Bolg. I hear another cry and I turn to see Thorin being impaled by Azog and I cannot contain my sadness as I let out a ear piercing scream in pain.

I quickly make my way down the tower to Fili where I see Dwalin cradling him in his arms and my heart completely breaks. I reach up and clench the piece of hair that he had braided before I lean down in front of him and bury my face in his chest. I feel Dwalin’s hand gently touch the top of my head before he places his head on mine. I cry out into his chest, “Fili get up! Please I can’t do this without you! Get up!” I scream it over and over again until I feel myself being shaken awake.

“Randír!” Mahrie cries out as she shakes me. “Wake up!” My eyes widen as I jump awake. “Are you alright?” She asks as my eyes dart all around me finding anything to make me realize it was just a dream. “Randír!” she says as she smacks my cheek. I pause tears streaming from my eyes.

“I am sorry, I just had a nightmare.” I say as I reach up and gently wipe the tears away.

“I heard you screaming and came to check on you.”

“Thank you Mahrie, I didn’t wake Frieda did i?” I ask as I try to compose myself.

“Thankfully not, but I am worried about you. I know you have probably seen many horrors in your life but you mustn’t let them control you.”

I smile as I say, “You are right.” I slowly stand up and look around to see the sun about to creep over the ridge and I turn toward her and say, “When the chaos starts I want you to stay close to Frieda, and stay in the great hall. I won’t be able to protect you.”

She nods as she says, “Are you sure you’re ready to fight?”

I look down at my hands and remember Fili’s blood being on them in my dream and say, “I have to make sure my nightmare doesn’t come true. Thank you Mahrie,” I grab Ithildin and quickly make my way from their home to where they had roomed Bilbo. When I arrive I see him sneaking out and I smile as I sneak up behind him and poking him in the shoulder say, “Are you sure you won’t get caught?”

He jumps and I smile as he turns back to me and says, “It’s just you,”

I smile as I say, “I see you’re sneaking back to the mountain,”

“I am.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

He eyes me for a moment before he says, “What do you need?”

“Will you tell Fili, that I miss him and I will see him soon?”

Bilbo smiles as he says, “You really do care for him don’t you?”

I smile as I say, “This stays between us, but I love him. When this is all over I’ll follow him anywhere.”

He smiles as he says, “I knew there was something going on between the two of you. Fili’s lucky to have you.”

I smile and leaning down to hug him say, “Thank you Bilbo; now off with you. I’ll make sure no one realizes you’ve gone.”

“Thank you Randir,” He says as he turns an heads off toward the mountain.

I walk toward where Thranduil was camped and upon reaching it walk out onto the balcony that looked toward the mountain and smile as I say, “I will keep you alive, all of you.” I close my eyes and let my voice carry as I sing out an elven song about love and battle. I meant it to calm the people of Laketown and perhaps relax the elves but I had no idea it would give them the courage to fight. I glance behind me to see Thranduil and Bard staring at me and I smile as I say, “Shall we then?”

I watch as Bard mounts his white horse while Thranduil climbs up upon his massive Elk. Thranduil then turns to me and says, “Innas lle nor-yassen amin?” (Will you ride with me?)

I look toward the mountain before I turn back to him and say, “Amin innas,” He holds out his arm to me and I gulp down a breath of air before taking it and allowing him to pull me up onto the Elk behind him. We ride toward the gates until Thorin fires an arrow at the ground before us.

“I will put the next one between you eyes.” I hear Thorin call out and I grip tightly to the back of Thranduil’s robes. The dwarves start to holler in excitement until the Elves behind us draw their bows and aim toward them. I watch as they all go quiet and hide behind the stones.  I tighten my grip on Thranduil and he instantly raises a hand stopping the elves from firing.

“We have come to tell you, payment of your debt has been offered and accepted.” Thranduil calls out and I slowly manage a quick glance toward the mountain as Thorin yell out, “What payment, I gave you nothing! You have nothing!” Thranduil turns toward Bard and I follow his gaze.

“We have this!” Bard says as he reaches into his into his pocket and pulls out the Arkenstone holding it up for all to see. I gulp down a breath as I once again look around Thranduil’s shoulder at the dwarves. 

“That stone belongs to the king!” One of the dwarves cries out and Bard replies, “And the King may have it, with our goodwill. But first, he must honor his word.”

It is silent for a moment before Thorin cries out, “The Arkenstone is in the mountain, this is a trick!” he goes silent again and my heart drops as I realize Bilbo is telling him the truth. I quickly climb down off Thranduil’s Elk and standing between him and Bard I stare up at the gates. 

“Throw him from the ramparts!” I Hear Thorin yell and my heart drops. I watch helplessly as Thorin tries to throw Bilbo over the edge until I hear Gandalf cry out, “If you don’t want my burglar them please don’t damage him. Return him to me.” I slowly turn toward Gandalf as he continues saying, “You’re not making a very splendid figure as king under the mountain are you Thorin son of Thrain.”

“Never again will I have dealings with Wizards, or Shire rats!” Thorin cries out and I turn to see Bilbo scrambling down the side of the gate toward the ground and I quickly make my way over to him.

“Are we come to terms? Will you have the Arkenstone for what was promised?” I hear Bard cry out from behind me as I help Bilbo. “Give us your answer. Will you have peace or war?”

I manage a glance back up the gate side as I wait for Bilbo. I silently pray that he takes the deal but I see a Raven fly up to him and know he will not. “I will have war!” he says as he turns to the east. I follow his gaze to see an army of Dwarves marching towards us. It is the Iron foot, distant relations of Thorin’s. “Ribo i thangail!” (Rush the Shield-fence) Thranduil cries out as he rides his Elk toward the front lines.

“Come along Bilbo!” I call out as I wait for him to hop over the large stones. I glance up to see Fili looking down at me with sadness in his eyes. I gently reach up and grabbing the braided piece of hair give him a reassuring smile. I watch as the side of his mouth tilts up momentarily before his attention is pulled away by his uncle.

Bilbo and I quickly make our way to Gandalf’s side as we all walk toward the dwarves. “Who is that? he doesn’t look too happy.” Bilbo says as I keep my eyes on the dwarf army.

“That is Dane, Lord of the Iron Hills, Thorin’s cousin.”

“Are they alike?”

“I’ve always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two.” Gandalf slowly looks down at Bilbo and I can already see that this wasn’t going to end well.

As Dane rides toward us upon a giant pig he says, “Good morning, how are you? I have a wee proposition if you don’t mind giving me a few minutes of your time. Would you consider just sodding off!” The people of Laketown flinch back at his sudden outburst but I remain firm. “All of you right now!”

“Stand fast!” Bard calls out and I gently place my hand upon Ithildin’s hilt ready for anything. “Come now Lord Dane!” I hear Gandalf cry out and I slowly turn toward him.

“Gandalf the Grey?” I hear Dane say and I listen carefully to their conversation. “Tell this rubble to leave or I’ll water the ground with their blood!”

“There is no need of war between Dwarves, man, and Elves. A legion of Orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down!”

“I will not stand down before and Elf! Not least this faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then.”  I feel anger fill my chest as I grip tightly to Ithildin.

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin!” Thranduil calls back to Dain.

“You hear that lads!” I hear Dain say but I don’t hear the rest as I feel something once again come over me.

“There are coming.” I say making everyone go silent around me even the Dwarves from the Iron Hills.

“When will they be here?” Gandalf says and my eyes jerk to the right as I say, “It’s too late, they are here!” As I finish speaking the earth starts to rumble beneath our feet. They follow my gaze and see the Were-Worms burst out of the ground like daisies.

“Oh, come on!” Dain cries out as his army quickly resituates itself against the Orcs. I glance toward Ravenhill and feel my heart drop. Azog was there just like in my dream.  “The Hordes of Hell are upon us! To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!” Dain cries out again as the Orcs moves closer to them. I pull Ithildin from his sheath as I stroll up beside Dain and say, “If you’ll have me, I will fight with you.” He says nothing but nods in agreement.

I glance back to see the Elf army not moving as the Orc army is about to attack and hear Bilbo say, “The Elves, will they not fight?”

“Thranduil! This is madness!” Gandalf cries out and I slowly turn to Thranduil and give him a sad look. Then I turn back toward the Orcs and brace myself for their approach. As the Orc army is heading towards us suddenly the Elf army joins in the fight and starts attacking the Orc army with the Dwarf army joining them. I wave Ithildin around like crazy as I take out all the anger from my past out on them. I glance over to see part of the Orc Army start heading towards Dale and my face blanches.

“Azog. He's trying to cut us off.” Gandalf yells and my mind instantly goes to Frieda and Mahrie. 

“All of you, fall back to Dale! Now!” Bard cries as he starts riding toward the city upon his white steed. 

“To the city! People, this way!” Gandalf cries as he and Bilbo run toward the city with the people of Laketown close behind. As I fight I turn to see an Orcs running toward me but before it reaches me Thranduil brings his sword down slicing its head clean off its shoulders.

“Thranduil!” I cry as I turn over to him. “Please take your elves to Dale, I need you to make sure a little girl named Frieda and her mother Mahrie is safe; will you do that for me please?” He eyes me for a moment before he nods and rides off on his massive Elk toward Dale followed by a handful of Elves. “Thank you my friend.” I say before I quickly turn back to fighting.

The Dwarf army and I continue to fight the Orcs until I hear Dain cry out, “Thorin! Where's Thorin? We need him. Where is he?” I look back to the mountain before I turn and quickly decapitate a advancing Orc. We continue to fight until I hear Dain call again, “Fall back! Fall back! Back to the Mountain! Fall back! Hey you she elf fall back!” I quickly fall back until I am standing beside him behind a line of prepared dwarves.

I glance over at him and say, “He will come, Thorin will not abandon you.” He looks down and I see the doubt in his eyes as he nods slightly to me. I look back toward the Orc army as it moves forward to attack when suddenly I hear the horns of Erebor sound behind me. I hear a loud crash and turn to see a huge golden bell smash through the wall of the mountain. My heart lifts as I see Thorin and the rest of his company run out of the mountain and as they run past us toward the Orcs Dain cries out, “To the King! To the King!”

Will Continue - 

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