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merlyn-bane · 1 year

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Codywan Order 63 - Day One, Fantasy / Fake Relationship

A/N: The writing for this fought me the entire time, but I did my best and this is what I was able to turn out in time for the event. Might come back to it later, might not. Totally unbeta'd haha. Very proud of the art, though. Please enjoy Cody's very lovely beard. We support bearded she-dwarves in this house.

Thanks so much for putting this on, @order63.

After three years of it dragging on, unrelenting, it feels unreal. Impossible. But the fallen, empty forms of the Wizard’s machines littering the field around them should be proof enough, she supposes. They’d all collapsed seemingly at once, mid-battle, just—gone out, like extinguished candles.

The war is over.

Three years struggling to fell them with swords and axes and arrows and just about anything else they could scrounge up, and she’d never seen them do that.

A strong hand grips Obi-Wan ‘round to face its owner, undeniable, and Obi-Wan resigns herself to the critical gaze of the warm brown eyes she finds when she glances up.

Cody.

“No, Cody,” Obi-Wan agrees with a small smile, not stepping back the way she perhaps ought to. The other woman is…standing very close. “Nor are you, from the looks of it.”

“You’re not hurt,” the dwarf maiden asserts brusquely after several seconds of assessment of Obi-Wan’s person, as if Obi-Wan isn’t aware of that. Obi-Wan only hears the relieved concern there, she thinks, because she has grown to know Cody so well.

And because Cody is still holding onto her by the shoulders.

Cody scoffs, as though the very notion of her taking injury from one of Sidious’s machines is preposterous. Then, Obi-Wan has seen her commander tackle the thrice-damned things before with nary a scratch, so perhaps it is that.

“We should return to camp,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan can only nod along. “Rejoin with the others. And perhaps that crazy old fool will have returned.”

Obi-Wan snorts as she always does when Cody refers to one of the greatest wizards of their age as the crazy old fool, shaking her head as she finally finds it in herself to step away. “Ever onward, then, Commander,” she says, and tries not to think about how much she’ll miss her when she must return home.

---

Yoda has indeed returned by the time they and their men make it back to camp, joined by Windu the Purple, who seems to have somehow managed to earn Cody’s hard-won respect despite being of the same kind as Yoda. One of them manages to see sense beyond their magic, Cody had grumbled, the one time Obi-Wan asked.

It warms her, to see that they both managed to survive their fight with the dark wizard. Today had been a last stand if it had been anything.

There is much celebrating that night, obviously, in the wake of their victory; Cody’s family and all manner of others that had joined them in the fight for Middle Earth, even a couple of old wizards and a stray hobbit. The ale flows freely, and Obi-Wan’s a little more than fuzzy on most of it by morning.

But she doesn’t think she’ll ever manage to forget the way Cody’s warm brown eyes burned into her own across the fire.

---

Obi-Wan rises early the next morning despite the ache in her skull and sets to work packing her things to head home as soon as she’s finished blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

The longer she waits, she knows, the harder it will be to leave. She’s already dreading her goodbyes to all of these people that she’s fought beside the last few years, not…least of all Cody. She still doesn’t quite know how she will handle the other woman’s departure from her side, where she’s been such a stable fixture through—all of this, but she knows that Cody must return to her home—to her ancestral halls, to her family and all of her responsibilities contained there—and Obi-Wan must return to her own. Goodness knows it will already be an absolute nightmare trying to reclaim her silverware.

If anyone has lain their sticky fingers upon her teapot, Obi-Wan may have to flay them.

All told, packing does not take long. Obi-Wan had not taken much with her when the wizards came, and she does not have much now.

“If you do not at least wear your mithril, I will be very cross with you,” a voice informs her from the entrance. Obi-Wan whirls around to find Cody there, one of her brows raised in judgement as though she thinks Obi-Wan can not see the soft, almost indulgent curve of her mouth, framed as it is by a truly magnificent beard the likes of which Obi-Wan cannot say with honesty that she had fancied prior to their acquaintance—

“It is not as though I’m bound for another battlefield, Cody,” Obi-Wan forces herself to reply, blessedly even. Cody’s lovely eyes narrow, and Obi-Wan sighs as she resigns herself to this conversation.

“That hardly implies safety,” Cody says rather expressively, sure enough. “It is bad enough that I can’t even get you to wear shoes—”

“Hobbit—”

“—but Mahal damn me if I allow us to make this trek with you unprotected entirely!”

Obi-Wan holds up a hand. “Us?”

Cody blinks, looking at Obi-Wan as if she’s stupid. It is, perhaps, a little rude, she thinks. “I am escorting you home,” she informs Obi-Wan like a fact, adjusting the pack over her shoulder that Obi-Wan’s only just noticing.

“Cody, that really isn’t—”

“—up for debate,” Cody smiles, raising her brow again, teasing. “You are a trouble magnet, Kenobi, and it would be a foolish waste to lose you after you’ve managed to survive all this.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, intelligently. She hopes Cody reads her red face as embarrassment or exasperation.

Cody winks and reaches down to grab Obi-Wan’s bag, but not before digging her mithril shirt out of it to toss at Obi-Wan. “Glad that’s settled, then.”

---

Obi-Wan is well familiar with the sentiment that one can never truly go home. This was not her first time leaving the Shire to pick up a sword, after all. She’d been…much younger, that first time, but the gentle hills she’d grown up in had felt just as alien when she returned then as they suddenly do now. It had taken her years to truly feel settled again; she supposes it will be much the same now.

Cody’s head appears to remain on a constant swivel as they make their way down the path that leads down into the village, though it seems to be more curiosity now than the constant vigilance it had been the rest of their journey. Like she’s interested in seeing Obi-Wan’s home, rather than just…making sure she returned to it in one piece.

Obi-Wan quickly absolves herself of that notion, shaking her head firmly. She wrestles those feelings back down deep in a locked box where they belong; Cody is only here out of a sense of duty, nothing more. One last act of kindness before Obi-Wan is officially no longer her responsibility. It is far more likely that she is simply fascinated by a landscape so unlike the mountains she is used to.

They pass by the first of the farms at the very edge of the Shire, and Obi-Wan very intently keeps her eyes straight forward. The more she looks at the fields around her, she knows, the more uncanny they will become. And the last thing she needs right this minute is the inevitable scrutiny of her neighbors. Eye contact invites conversation; conversation invites comment.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Cody offers, nudging Obi-Wan gently in the shoulder and giving her a small smile when she turns to give the other woman her attention. “Very peaceful.”

“Quiet and peaceful are not always the same thing,” Obi-Wan snorts. Cody has the grace to ignore the bitter note in her voice, merely inclines her chin as though Obi-Wan has given her a new piece of information and nothing more, and it is moments like these when Obi-Wan thinks she may appreciate Cody the most.

They somehow manage to make it all the way to Obi-Wan’s front door unaccosted despite the staring eyes that had followed them all the way there. She supposes they must be frightened if they all think that they’re seeing a ghost.

Three years is an awfully long time to be away from home to a people who seldom make it further out than Bree.

The door is unlatched but Obi-Wan had hardly expected any different. She rolls her eyes and shoulders it open, ignoring Cody’s incredulous look when she doesn’t have to pull out a key to do so.

Empty. Her home is empty. Everything smaller than her heavy oak furniture that hasn’t been nailed down has been cleared out.

Obi-Wan closes her eyes, tilts her head back, and groans. Cody blinks next to her, brows furrowing together in the middle when she turns from surveying the little hole to look at her.

“This is…not quite what I expected,” Cody admits, and Obi-Wan snorts softly. She heads off to start making her way through the rooms, taking stock of what’s missing and what’s not, Cody trailing along behind her.

“Not exactly cozy is it?” she says wryly, nudging an overturned chest with her toe. “I assure you, this is not the way I left it.”

Cody straightens immediately, her palm finding the pommel of her sword. “Someone did this while you were gone?”

“Assumed I was dead, I imagine,” she says. “This may surprise you, but we aren’t exactly known to be avid adventurers. You fall out of contact long enough and they all just assume you died horribly.”

“And make off with your shit.”

“And make off with your shit.” Obi-Wan snorts, shrugging once before giving Cody a smile she hopes doesn’t look too strained. “It isn’t the first time. I have this well in hand, my dear. You can go, now, I assume they’re all missing you terribly—”

“Obi-Wan, I’m not leaving you to deal with this.” Cody shakes her head firmly, hand still resting on her sword. It’s quite amusing, really, the extent of overkill that truly is in this situation. She’d been able to get her things back with only a little grumbling following the Battle of the Young, and she’d only been barely twenty then and certainly nowhere near as intimidating as a fully grown dwarvish maiden fresh off the battlefield.

“That’s hardly necessary,” Obi-Wan feels compelled to point out, for all that she’s near certain it won’t sway Cody at all.

---

They don’t end up needing to go and retrieve any of Obi-Wan’s things after all, as it turns out.

Obi-Wan’s just finished fixing a pot of tea for the two of them (the cure for everything, as far as she’s concerned, and no-one had absconded with her teapot, luckily) when there’s a knock on the door. Her and Cody both stiffen at the sudden noise but Obi-Wan relaxes first, shoulders loosening even as she feels irritation settle into her features.

“Nothing but a bunch of gossip mongers,” Obi-Wan grumbles, setting the teapot down on the table next to the cups she’d been about to pour. She ignores the amused huff it garners from her guest and settles her hands firmly on her hips, glaring down the hallway that leads to the door.

There’s another knock, louder this time, and Obi-Wan throws her hands up. “Fine. Fine. I’m coming!” she calls out. “Honestly.”

It’s Mrs. Chun at Obi-Wan’s door. Obi-Wan feels her eye twitch.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” the woman greets with enthusiasm that only feels a little forced.

She’s holding Obi-Wan’s grandfather’s pipe set and one of her favorite cheese knives.

“Mrs. Chun,” she returns, polite enough.

“We hadn’t realized you’d gone and gotten married!” the woman says, all but shoving her armload at Obi-Wan. “You have our congratulations, of course.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no, dear, don’t apologize!” Mrs. Chun says. “I suppose you must have been staying with your wife’s family all this time, then. How wonderful!” She leans in close, as if they are trading secrets, now. Obi-Wan tenses all the way down her spine at the proximity. “What was that like?”

“Cold.” There’s suddenly an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, tugging her back a little further from the door—and their guest. Cody. “The mountains didn’t agree with Obi’s constitution.” Obi, Obi, Obi— “Goodbye.”

The door is shut in Obi-Wan’s neighbor’s face before she’s able to finish processing—any of that—but she can’t particularly say that she minds, social faux-pas or not.

“Obi-Wan, what in the name of—”

“I haven’t the faintest,” Obi-Wan manages, carefully extracting herself from Cody’s grip to set down the—gifts?—from the Chuns.

“Your neighbor seems to think we’re married,” Cody says, question obvious in her tone. Obi-Wan opens her mouth to say—something—but cuts off when there’s another knock at the door.

It’s one of Obi-Wan’s cousins that she no longer remembers the name or the specific relation of. Obi-Wan is offered a shoulder-slapping congratulations, a half-teasing comment that the family hadn’t thought she’d ever marry (ouch) but that they perhaps should have expected something like a dwarf from her (whatever that was supposed to mean), and is summarily gifted her own silverware as what she assumes is supposed to be a wedding present.

The cousin departs (flees) before Obi-Wan can realize that the set is missing its soup spoons. Obi-Wan blinks at her closed door once, twice, and swears.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Hobbits also disappear when we get married. Shit. Shit!”

“Obi-Wan, what are you talking about?”

Obi-Wan starts pacing. She knows she must look like she’s lost the plot, marching back and forth in front of her front door like this, but she suddenly needs to move. “Hobbits elope. We elope. It’s the only way to get anything approaching peace or privacy for the process but I forgot because I’m hardly sought after—”

“Foolish.”

“—Yes, thank you, Cody, I know.” Obi-Wan spins on a heel, starts walking in the other direction.

“That’s not what I meant, Obi-Wan.”

Her heel strikes the floor with a distinct sound. She spins again. “So when I came back with you—”

“They assumed we got married.” Obi-Wan stop pacing to bury her overheated face in her hands while she waits for Cody to process this, and is very surprised when the other woman laughs, of all things.

Obi-Wan peers through her fingers to find Cody’s mouth split into a dazzling grin, warm eyes dancing with humor. “Well, I think I might have an idea for how we can get you your things back.”

#codywan #rule 63 #Codywan Order 63 event #order 63 #middle earth au

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ruthoakenshield · 2 years

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Thorin, Fili, Emma and the Unusual Arrangement - Part 19

[Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18]

This tale is for 18+ readers only.

If smut, angst, fluff, backdoor entry, oral (m&f receiving), and threesome offend you, do NOT read below the cut!!!

In this Alternate Universe Hobbit tale, Thorin and Company find an injured Dwarrowdam in the wild who is alone. They take her into the company and heal her, insisting that she stay with them so she stays safe. During the quest, Thorin, Fili and the Dwarrowdam find themselves in an unusual arrangement out of necessity and by the will of the Dwarven god, Mahal. What is the unusual arrangement? Will the arrangement work out? Will the line of Durin survive the Quest and reclaim Erebor?

(I do not claim ownership of any of Tolkien’s characters, languages or places, nor do I claim ownership of Tauriel’s character.)

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Later on, that afternoon, Thorin appears at the entrance to the cave and collapses at it with tears streaming down his face. “I am sorry, Mahal, that the sickness consumed me for as long as it did. Please forgive me and show me how to fix these wrongs I have made. I miss my One and am so very exhausted.

Now my mountain is besieged by all those from around me as well as Orcs and Trolls now wanting it to defile it as they have done with Moria. I do not have the energy to fight them any longer. Please, I need your help and wisdom.” He murmurs.

Mahal and Yavanna appear at the entrance and see he is no longer consumed with the Dragon Sickness. They see how much energy fighting it has taken out of him, and they let down the barrier. Reaching down, they help him to stand and praise him for defeating the sickness.

“Your One is here and Fili has kept her safe. I have allowed them to join, and she now carries his Heir. You may join with her now and not worry. Once you do, your spirit will renew having your One renew the bond between you.” Mahal tells Thorin.”

“Here, Thorin,” Yavanna says quietly and hands him three sets of reddish-gold Dragon’s Scale breast and back plates. Each one had the rune of it’s owner etched into the scale on the front, and it was filled with gold. The Durin family’s border ran around the edges of both the front and the back in gold. A pair of Ravens in black onyx flank the rune on the front. One on each side, facing the emblem.

“These I had Mahal make for you using 6 of the 8 scales Em claimed from Smaug’s chest. They are the ones she caressed as she charmed the Dragon and ‘tickled’ him, letting her get the opening wider for Bard to see clearly, so that he might kill the beast.” She explains.

“You and your Nephews must wear them into battle under your outer tunics or you will not survive the upcoming fight. Beware of Azog and Bolg. Keep your Nephews with you and do not separate from them nor they from you. Keep Dwalin with you three as well.” She instructs.

“These pieces of armor are enchanted, and no blade or weapon, magic or not will pierce or damage them, and they will shatter any weapon used against them. Even Em’s cold-drake claw, will not affect them now.” Mahal tells Thorin. “No magic weapon can be used against these pieces, and they retain the defensive property of Dragon’s Scales. You will be well protected on your torso and back.” Mahal explains.

Thorin collapses at their feet, head bowed. “I do not deserve such a blessing. I have caused so much heartache and pain for others.” He says.

Mahal chuckles and lifts Thorin to his feet once more. “You deserve them, Thorin, or I would not have given you them. You have done everything I have asked you to do. No matter how hard.

Go now, join with your Wife. Have Fili take his and his Brother’s Dragon Scale armor and bring them to Kili; they will need to put them on under their outer tunics. When you are done, we will help you into yours and then you will be needed to go and fight.” Mahal instructs.

Thorin sighs exhaustedly, nods and stumbles around the corner and looks for you and Fili.

The two of you see him and come running. He embraces you both and hugs you tightly. “Oh, how I have missed you both! Thank you for taking care of Em, and doing what I had asked, Fili.

Now, Mahal has a gift for you and your Brother. Take them and go help each other into them. Put them under your tunics and tell the company to prepare for battle. I will be up to join you once I finish here.” He tells his Nephew.

“You are welcome, Uncle.” He bonks foreheads with Thorin and then goes over to Mahal and Yavanna. They instruct him and show him his and his Brother’s new armor and he takes them up to help Kili into it after thanking them.

You and Thorin go over to the little ‘house’ that was prepared for you and Fili. Thorin chuckles at it and nods in approval. “I am grateful for the Company doing this for you, my Love. Thank you for putting your dagger in my boot and for the lock of hair. They were the only things that kept me from completely succumbing. I could feel the dagger in my boot each time I took a step, and I felt the hair in my hand as I clung to it, though I’m afraid I’ve lost the note somewhere during my wanderings.” He tells you as he lies you down on the feather tick, thoroughly exhausted.

Thorin undresses and helps you out of your dress. He worships your body and caresses your belly, laying gentle kisses to it.

“Mahal tells me you and Fili have joined and you now carry his Heir.” Thorin tells you when you look at him puzzled since he never paid your belly this much attention before. Your eyes open wide, and you look surprised.

He chuckles, “I take it you did not know.”

You shake your head in shock.

He grins. “Do not worry, my Love. I am happy for you. Now, may I join with you?” he purrs.

You grin and nod. He turns you onto your back, caresses you and kisses you as he prepares your body to take him. Once he feels you are ready, he delves deep into you with a loud groan of your name, clinging to you as if his life depended on it.

You groan loudly as well, your hands caressing every inch of him you could reach, as if your body was starved of him and needing to quickly have it’s fill.

Thorin groans and starts to thrust. Slowly, at first, enjoying the feeling of you surrounding him and caressing every inch of his body. Basking in your hands caressing his flesh while your walls caress his member. “OHhhhhhh Emmmmm, oooohhhhhh yesssssss! Oh, Honey, how I’ve missed this!” he rumbles, and he gazes down at you.

Leaning down, he kisses you ardently and wraps his arms around you; burying his face into your neck, and breathing your intoxicating scent. He weeps at how much he missed this intimacy and love. You feel the hot tears trickle down your neck and your fingers caress his head, comforting Thorin. He basks in its feeling, letting it fill him and renew his spirit.

You turn the two of you, so you are on top of him, and you ride him, swiveling your hips and spasmodically squeezing his member with your strong muscles. Thorin groans as you pleasure him using every little trick you remembered and trying out some new ones you learned that pleased Fili. Then you pull him to sit and the two of you rock your way to completion, knowing this was Thorin’s absolute favourite position.

“Uuuuunnnnnngggghhhh, ooooohhhh Emmmmm!” he groans as he feels his coil tighten. “Ohhh, Honey! Hold me tight, I’m close!” he whispers in your ear. You wrap yourself around him tightly with your arms and legs and let him rock at whatever pace he needs to.

Thorin is reveling in the feeling of being completely embraced by you in every sense of the word. He picks up the pace of his rocking, knowing he must be leaving soon. His hands caress every inch of you he can and soon he feels both of your coils snap at the same time and you both cry out each other’s name as you cum hard, clenching him with throbbing walls.

Thorin cums hard exploding deep inside you, filling you with his seed. His throbbing, bringing you pleasure as he slows his rocking to a languid pace as he pants against your neck. “I love you, Em. More than you will ever know.” He purrs as he finally stills with a groan.

Lifting his head, he kisses his way up from your shoulder to your ear. “I must leave now.” He murmurs, then kisses from your other shoulder up to your other ear. “Wait for us here, where I know you will be kept safe from harm.” He tells you then sits up and cups your face. “When we return, we will come and both Fili and I will make love to you together, filling you at the same time so we can all be One again.” Alright?” he asks.

You nod, teary eyed.

“Do not worry about us, my Love. Mahal has taken the scales from Smaug that you had claimed and has used them to make armor for my Nephews and I that no blade, magic or not, can damage. We will be alright.” He promises. “Remember we love you.” He purrs. You nod and rest your forehead against his, sharing breaths. “I love you, Thorin Oakenshield, destroyer of the Dragon Sickness, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King under the mountain.” You murmur to him.

Thorin’s heart swells with love and pride and he grins at the new title you have given him. He caresses your face and then turns you onto your back. “Rest now. Fili and I will return when the battle is over, and we clean up.” He tells you, then slips out of you and kisses you soundly.

You nod and watch as he cleans himself up and then re-dresses. Leaving his outer tunic, jacket and belt off until he gets the armor on. He pulls you to stand and you giggle feeling his cum dribble down your leg. He chuckles and cleans it off with his tongue and licks you clean, making you moan and nestle your fingers into his hair.

Thorin chuckles and once you’re cleaned up ‘down there’, he helps you into your dress and you both wander over to Mahal and Yavanna’s statues. “Thank you for what you’ve done.” Thorin says.

Mahal and Yavanna appear and smile. “You are both well deserving of it Thorin. Come, let’s get you into your armor.” He tells Thorin.

Thorin sighs and kisses your forehead. “Wait here in the cave for us, Uzfaku (My greatest joy).” He tells you softly and you nod. “I love you.” He whispers and follows Mahal, who helps him into the Dragon’s Scale armor.

You stand beside Yavanna with tears trickling down your cheeks. She places a hand on your back and gently rubs it, reassuringly. You feel a sense of peace enter you and it calms you and soothes your aching heart.

Once Thorin is into the armor and has re-dressed, he comes over to you. “Thank you for thinking to ask for these scales, My Love.” He tells you, again kissing your forehead and resting his against it. “Go lie down and rest now. We will join you when this is all over.” He murmurs, caressing your face.

You nod and the two of you share a passionate kiss. Then he breaks it, kisses your forehead once more and turns to head out. He stops at the entrance, looks back at you standing beside Yavanna once more and gives you a nod, you return it, and he heads out into the passage.

You cry quietly and look down at your bare feet. “Go and lie down, Em. We will be here and will keep you safe.” Yavanna says and you look up at the beautiful goddess. She points over to the entrance and you see the magic barrier rise again. “Thank you.” You say quietly and she kisses your forehead seven times, giggles and then disappears.

You hear a low chuckle and look up. “It appears my Wife has blessed you with her kisses. Be at peace, Em. Your Husband and your Consort will be safe and will return to you.” He promises.

“Thank you, Mahal for everything. I am just a nobody, not even of noble birth. I do not know why you chose me to do all this with, but I am grateful for it all.” You say quietly.

He chuckles and rests a hand to your belly. You feel his warmth enter you and he chuckles. “You will bless both your Dwarrow this first time. Fili’s Son will be born first, as it was conceived first. Then Thorin’s Daughter will be born next. Do not tell them this. I wish for it to be a surprise and a blessing to them and the Dwarrow of Erebor. These two siblings will be close like Kili and Fili are, though not as rambunctious as Kili.” He chuckles.

“They will lead the Dwarrow after you and Fili pass, your Daughter will be her Brother’s Regent as she will be like you and Dis and prove to be both a mighty warrior and a wise and gifted mediator similar to Balin, whom she will be fond of and will wrap him around her little finger the first time he sees her.

She will do the same with her Father and with Dwalin. Teach both your pebbles what your Father taught you about fighting with the Axes. Your Son and Daughter both will be Master Axe Wielders and your Father’s memory and good name will be restored.” Mahal tells you.

“Mahal, what DID my Father do that made Thror so mad?” you ask.

“When your Father guarded the treasury, he saw how it began affecting Thorin’s Grandfather. He informed Thror’s Wife and she asked him to limit Thror’s time in the Treasure room, hoping to stall the madness. Your Father tried to do as she asked and tried to limit how much time Thror spent in the treasury.

At first Thror allowed your Father to talk him into leaving and tending to his duties. But as the sickness took Thror further, it started to cast doubts into Thror’s mind and made Thror think that your Father wanted the treasure for himself.” Mahal explains.

“Had your Father not bested the King when he attacked your Father one night as he guarded the Treasury, he would’ve been exiled with you and your Amad. But because Thror still had enough sanity to realize your Father was the best Axe Wielder he had ever met, he kept him on in his service and moved him to the outer defenses, away from the treasure.

Your Father was right to do what he did. His limiting Thror’s time in the treasury helped stay the madness and didn’t allow him to succumb as quickly. Had he not done that, Thror would’ve fallen just as fast as Thorin did.” Mahal explains.

“Is THAT how Father got the gold axes that he did?!?” you exclaim.

Mahal nods and chuckles.

“When you can best the King at his own favourite weapon, you earn his weapon to show that you have bested him and his recognizing it. Thror was quite upset that he lost those gold-plated axes. He never told anyone what happened to them. When he was asked, he’d just say that he ‘lost’ them in the treasury.

Everyone assumed that they were still in the piles of gold somewhere in there, not realizing that he ‘lost’ them to one of his guards while they both were IN the treasury.” Mahal explains.

“The axes themselves were made of Mithril and then plated in gold. So, the weapon was solid and could not be permanently damaged.” Mahal explains. “That is why your Father did not use them other than for teaching you. He didn’t want everyone to know that he bested the King at his own weapon. He felt it was not a fair fight since the madness had been in control of Thror’s mind at the time, and not Thror himself.” Mahal explains.

“You were wise to keep them in covered harnesses when you wore them and that you did not bring those weapons with you. You would have lost them along the way.” Mahal tells you.

“Your friend still has them and is keeping them safe, as a memory of you, though. The Dwarrow in the Blue Mountains all think you perished since the caravan could not find you after the Orc attack. Let it be a surprise to them. When the battle is over, have Fili or Thorin send a message to Dis when they want the Dwarrow to return, and make sure he or she specifically asks for your friend to come and bring the axes you had left with her.

She is Dwalin’s One and will make him a very happy Dwarf and will join you in filling the halls with many pebbles during their marriage.” You giggle with glee at that news. “Ohhh, Dwalin’s gonna LOVE her! They’re perfect for each other!!!” you squeal.

Mahal chuckles.

“Go and rest now, Em. Remember, do not tell Thorin you carry his child until it is born. Then you may tell them that I have told you that the color of your children’s hair will always reveal who the Father is.” You nod and thank him again, then head over to your little ‘house’ and you lie down. Sleep finding you quickly.

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chernabogsbiggestfan · 2 months

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me: "if aragon was in a mondern au, i feel like he'd be one of those guys who live in a van"

my mom, a genius, tapping into a higher plane of thought: "legolas would be a skateboarder"

#lotr #aragorn #legolas #lotr modern au #lord of the rings #the hobbit #tolkien #middle earth

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tsuyonpuu · 1 year

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The fellowship but they are just a bunch of little guys 💙

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southaway · 3 months

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Corrupted Elven Ring Bearers AU Series

Elrond with Vilya the Ring of Air

#elrond #peredhel #vilya #tolkien #middle earth #ringbearer au #digital art

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cringefail-clown · 9 months

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striders relationship in turnabout in a nutshell

#homestuck #turnabout au #homestuck turnabout #homestuck au #dirk strider #hal strider #lil hal #dave strider #hom3stuck #its literally unstoppable force (dave&hal and their shenanigans) vs unmovable object (dirk)#theyre giving oldest sibling trying to manage the middle and youngest sibling #i have so many ideas bout specifically how they interact on earth c in this au istg imma write a fic bout it sometime #striders

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doodle-pops · 5 months

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House of Fingolfin | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

A/N: This takes place in Valinor, in a no–darkening verse and arranged marriages are common traditions among the elves. By now, I'm considering this an AU within the Silm verse with all the ideas that’s been swimming in my mind after writing each headcanon (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Warnings: feelings of neglect and loneliness, resentment, disputes, there is some comfort, angst because it's an arranged marriage

Arranged Marriage AU: Arafinweans ver.

☆ . ࣪ ˖ ࿐ Fingolfin

Fingolfin strongly resents being told what to do. However, if complying benefits his family and upholds his royal status as an exemplar for princes, he will reluctantly follow through. In this context, he would have no significant objections to an arranged marriage.

He genuinely believes in his father’s good intentions and considers his mother’s agreement as final. Fingolfin would attentively attend the meeting, listening to the criteria and rationale for the arrangement while occasionally glancing at your disheartened expression.

Initially, he might struggle to comprehend why you don’t view the situation as a win–win, given that you’re marrying a prince and about to enjoy a luxurious lifestyle. The notion of being forced into this or having a lover only dawns on Fingolfin when his younger brother or a friend brings it up.

He’s determined to make the relationship work and hopes you won’t be confrontational or resist connecting with each other. Your reluctance to make things work is a source of frustration for him, but his pride prevents him from complaining to others.

But it is important to keep in mind that as much as he’s fighting you to make this work, he is respectful of your boundaries and personal space.

“I may have been slow to realise your reservations about the arrangement, but may I ask that you at least attempt not to distance yourself when all I want is for this to go smoothly? Yes, we will be married soon, but I’m not suggesting a romantic involvement, just a basic level of cooperation to ease the tension, please.”

He’s eager to make the arrangement a success because he sees it as essential for his role as a prince and a way to outshine his older brother. In Fingolfin’s perspective, this is a competition, albeit unfortunate for you.

You must assert that for this relationship to work, it shouldn’t be a platform for competition or jealousy, but rather something mutually beneficial and meaningful. You seek a partner you can rely on and trust, while he desires a confidant.

Despite the challenges, you enjoy a royal lifestyle with extravagant parties, balls, and dinners, access to the finest materials and food, a luxurious house designed to your liking, and any other desired indulgence. Fingolfin explicitly mentions that the house was created with your preferences in mind in hopes of ensuring some form of comfort is achieved.

An added benefit of the relationship is Fingolfin’s trust in your abilities as a mediator and leader. As a means to enhance communication, he gradually opens up and seeks your advice in the hopes of strengthening the arrangement.

☆ . ࣪ ˖ ࿐ Fingon

Initially, when the news was broken to him, Fingon found it all rather amusing. He doubled over and laughed in his father’s face, thinking it was some kind of joke. It took a while for the seriousness of the situation to sink in, and he soon realised that this was no laughing matter. Fingon is a free–spirited individual who believes in choosing when to marry, not never for political reasons, as was the case in this instance.

When you’re in the room, Fingon prefers to keep his anger in check and maintain a pleasant demeanour, as he doesn’t want to frighten you. He’s well aware that you had no say in this decision, and his father is the only one he has an issue with.

The sorrowful look on his face when he meets your eyes is heart–wrenching, as both of you are victims of politics. Despite the circumstances, he does his best to shield you from the harsh reality and maintain the illusion of a simple friendship.

Among all his siblings and his father, Fingon is undoubtedly the most agreeable elf to be married to. Despite his inner turmoil and his father’s constant pressure to make the relationship work, he remains cheerful and amiable in your company, ensuring your comfort throughout the entire engagement.

However, in the early days of the marriage, he was the complete opposite of his usual self, largely due to your reserved nature. He was distant and mostly silent as he grappled with controlling his temper, trying to figure out how to make the relationship work.

If he’s going to be your husband against his will, he’s determined to be the best one you could hope for. Do you require your space? You got it. Do you not wish to see or speak to him? He’ll respect it. Do you want him to stop pretending that everything’s perfect? You’ll get that as well, although it may not be what you expect.

“You might be expecting me to shout, scream, or completely ignore you. I couldn’t bring myself to do any of that, though, as it’s not how my mother raised me to behave when I’m dissatisfied... I understand that you see through the façade I put up; it’s mostly to get my father off my back. But it’s not an act when I’m around you.”

Count on Fingon to make your forced marriage bearable and tolerable. He alleviates the typical anxiety associated with arranged marriages by filling it with unconditional love, support, appreciation, and trust. He never lets the burden fall on you and always stands by your side, ready to defend you.

One thing he won’t tolerate is anyone belittling your role as his spouse, whether it’s from your family or his. He respects your choices and ensures that you’re comfortable before engaging in anything personal.

Fingon never rushes you into anything uncomfortable and allows you to make decisions, trusting your judgment and revealing his vulnerability. He sees this as a hopeful approach to overcoming the arranged marriage label that hangs over your heads.

☆ . ࣪ ˖ ࿐ Turgon

Even if it were his father delivering the news that an arranged marriage was necessary to uphold the family name, Turgon was on the verge of overturning a table and vanishing before his father could reveal your name. However, Turgon knew he wouldn’t get far before being compelled to return home and address the situation.

It was the gloomiest atmosphere in recent memory when he was in the room, glaring at your presence as you entered with your family. The whole ordeal made him feel nauseous, especially when he observed how supportive his mother was in the matter.

Turgon didn’t speak or acknowledge your existence. If you were residing in your preexisting home, you both slept in separate quarters. He even made an effort to become familiar with your schedule to ensure you didn’t cross paths because he wanted to avoid giving the impression of any interest in making things work.

It felt like living alone with a brooding spectre who constantly muttered under his breath as though he was casting a spell. He was quick to anger and often directed his frustration at everyone around him, not just his and your parents. Congratulations, you were arranged to someone who unjustly blamed you.

Like his cousins, you had to assert yourself and demand respect, forcing your voice above his constant grumbling.

“Listen, I’ll make this clear just once, so don’t make me repeat myself. Stop blaming me and direct your frustrations at my parents and yours. We’re in this together whether we like it or not—so accept it and put an end to the complaining, just like I did. We’re going to make this work—we don’t have to share a bed or be best friends, but we should find common ground and understanding. I won’t accept ‘no’ as an answer, as it’s proven to be pointless, so stop whining and work with me!”

You earned his respect because no one had the audacity to confront him like that without fearing his explosive anger. From that day on, there was a subtle change in the household routine, like not avoiding your schedules and sharing the same space (excluding the bedroom).

Any attempts at conversation were initiated by you, and you had to strain your ears to catch his mumbled responses. When it came to public appearances, he was as stiff as a board and communicated sparingly.

However, it was his instinct to defend you and his family if anyone made disrespectful comments about your situation. That was something for him and you to contemplate, not for others to meddle in, so someone would be put in their place. That night, you saw the most emotion from him apart from his temper.

An incident like that brought you both a step closer to displaying your emotions and feelings, particularly your protectiveness toward him. As simple as it may seem, he wanted to know about your day and if anyone insulted you when you were out. It was a step in the growth of your relationship.

☆ . ࣪ ˖ ࿐ Argon

Argon is fucking bewildered and struggling to comprehend the situation because he’s still a young individual being informed of an arranged marriage he never wanted. He responds with profanity and loud protests until his father intervenes to calm him down.

He despises every moment of it, particularly when he recalls how his cousins and brothers were subjected to the same process. He can’t believe he’s in the same situation despite his strong desire to find love on his own. Even if you were present in the room, his anger blinds him to your concern.

For days to weeks, you two may not exchange words, with occasional glances and stares being the only form of communication. Even after the marriage, he only engages in minimal conversation, ensuring your well–being and comfort in the shared space, though his tone is often filled with bitterness.

Initially, your marriage feels like cohabitating with a mere housemate, as your interactions are limited to household chores. Meaningful conversations based on your interests are virtually non–existent. It would take significant time and effort before either of you musters the courage to address the awkward silence in the house, ideally during breakfast.

“May I speak? No, it’s not about breakfast; it’s about us. We’ve been living like roommates for months, hardly even acquaintances. All we do together is eat and do chores. I know you’re still upset about this arrangement—so am I—but I’d appreciate it if we could replace this white noise with something resembling friendship. We’re already living together, so we’re past the stage of being strangers.”

Argon is genuinely sorry to discover that you desire more meaningful interactions rather than distance, which he had assumed. Your first breakthrough occurs when you jest about his misinterpretation of your gestures, breaking the awkward silence with a touch of Argon’s playful nature.

Following in the footsteps of his eldest brother, he emulates his gestures in the hopes of fostering a deeper connection. Although his emotions make him eager and impulsive, he doesn’t want you to bear the blame for his dissatisfaction.

Eventually, a level of vulnerability emerges in your discussions, allowing both of you to overcome this significant turning point in your lives. More joy and laughter infuse the household as you both express your opinions, views on the situation, and expectations for the future. Given his youth and the wealth of advice he’s received on arranged marriages, he engages in meaningful conversations to ensure you share the same expectations.

He has no intention of subjecting you to the mistreatment that others might inflict on their spouses, placing trust in you and expecting the same in return. For the majority of your marriage, despite lingering awkwardness, you manage to build a friendship with someone who is open and respectful.

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