#Thorin's knit socks

[gothicmama]

"The Hunt" Bagginshield ABO (Rough Draft)

I posted a little snippet of this, the end of it, awhile back, and since then I've been fiddling with it constantly and I'm on the verge of rewriting all two thousand something words and start over. So, I'm posting it here first, hoping for some advice/criticism/reassurance on what I should do with it. Please, help (;

Bilbo had adjusted to the cultural shock of living with Dwarves relatively quickly. The months he’d spent on the quest with the company had helped him when it came to being the only Hobbit in a mountain of them. Everything was completely different from what he was used to, from the food to the clothing, to the weather itself. Some of that had been expected and easily managed. He ate meals with everyone else plus the extra four he was used to, with whoever happened to be free at the moment keeping him company, so he didn’t eat alone. He’d even added some Hobbitish dishes to menus all over the mountain. The same was said for clothing, his closet was full of Hobbit style clothing that were decorated with the floral designs Hobbits preferred, alongside or combined with the traditional geometric patterns Dwarves favored. Dori and Nori had taken on the challenge of making his whole wardrobe and they’d outdone themselves. Several of the tailors and shops in the marketplace now offered similar items themselves. And the weather had simply been solved by finally giving in and admitting that his bare feet needed something during the winter months, especially if he wanted to go outside. As such he now had a drawerful of thick socks, also made by both Dori and Nori, that were just as decorated as the rest of his clothing.

But the one thing he was still struggling to adjust to was how different they were when it came to their secondary genders. For Hobbits, there were expectations and responsibilities for each. Alphas were expected to be the head of the family and do the more dangerous things, like being Bounders. Omegas were expected to be pregnant as often as possible, as long as it was safe to be so, and Betas were expected to fill in any gaps and be whatever was needed in whatever relationship they were in.

Despite that Hobbits were all mostly similar in certain ways regardless of whether they were Alpha, Beta, or Omega. They were, as a people, generally gentle and kind-hearted folk. Suspicious of the outside world, with good reason, and with few exceptions, they were all content to live in their smials, throw parties for any an all reasons, and drink and eat to their hearts’, and stomachs’, content. They spent their heats and ruts either at home alone or with their mates, and it was highly expected to choose a mate and marry them as young as possible. For the majority of Hobbits, regardless of their gender, they only ever touched or were touched by one person and that was the person they chose to be their mate.

Dwarves on the other hand were completely different. They drew clear lines between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, while simultaneously treating them all equally. Unlike Hobbits, Omegas weren’t expected to have children. He knew and had met several Omegas who had dedicated their lives to their crafts instead of relationships or were in a relationship and simply didn’t want children. Also, Omegas weren’t looked at differently or whispered about for doing dangerous work. Neither were Alphas sneered at for doing what would be considered delicate work, such as embroidering or knitting. No, for Dwarves, they wore their genders proudly in their braids, but it made no difference to how they were treated by others.

And for Bilbo, a Hobbit who had for many years been the local oddity due to being an unmated Omega who was head of his family and the family business, it was both a pleasant and a jarring change.

He’d thought he’d grown used to the way things were, he’d even started letting Fili and Kili put an Omega braid in his hair. Something that still seemed to unsettle Thorin, so much so that for the first few times he had quickly excused himself before running from the room. Bilbo had yet to get an explanation for that, so he’d simply chalked it up to some Dwarf thing he didn’t know about. And then, he’d found out about the Hunt.

“I’m sorry, could you explain it to me again please?” Bilbo was sure he’d heard Balin wrong. There was no way Dwarves actually did that.

Balin chuckled and looked up from the scroll he was writing on. “Any unmated Alphas, Betas, and Omegas may participate in the Hunt. It’s two weeks of eating, sleeping, and preparing. It is called the Hunt because at the end of the two weeks, some are hunted, while the others are the hunters.”

Bilbo swallowed heavily before he hesitantly asked, “Hunted for what?”

Balin set down the scroll completely and looked at the Hobbit over his glasses. His eyes stared into Bilbo’s as he answered, “For mating.”

“Mating?” Bilbo squeaked out. His face was already burning but his curiosity was stronger than his embarrassment. He knew what mating was, understood it on a purely physical, educational level, but he’d never experienced it. And even if he had, Hobbits didn’t do anything like what Balin was describing.

“Yes. On the final night, the hunted run, and the hunters chase, and almost everyone finds a mate, if not more than one,” Balin explained. “It is a night for us to give in to our primal urges, to experience a heat or rut in a different way.”

“Isn’t that, well, dangerous?” Bilbo asked. The thought of alphas and omegas running loose, lost in their heats and ruts, sounded terrifying to him.

“It can be, yes,” Balin agreed. “But even in our most primal, animalistic states, we are not cruel or vicious. Fighting is to be expected, but most know when they’re beaten and will yield. Likewise, most know when they’ve won, and they’ll let the loser go. It’s not unheard of for people to die, for fights to get out of control or for someone to take it too far, but it is uncommon.”

“I see. But, what if you,” Bilbo paused to think over his words. “What if someone is interested in another, but they aren’t interested in return?”

“It’s even rarer for forced mating to happen, but it has happened in the past,” Balin regretfully admitted. “It’s a risk one takes to be a part of the hunt. But most are more interested in finding willing partners than wasting time and energy forcing themselves on another.”

Unsure of how to respond to his reassurance, Bilbo simply nodded. Balin smiled kindly at him and explained, “There are risks, yes, but that is why it is optional. It is for those who are without mates, who wish to have a little fun. Everyone gets to show off in the days leading up to the hunt, by decorating themselves with paint and jewels or showing off their prowess in fights. And on the final night, they run wild and free in ways that they don’t usually get to experience. Though, some do go into it with other motivations.”

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, his head swimming. This took culture shock to an entirely new level. He cleared his throat several times and fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat, before he stammered, “Other motivations?”

“Oh yes.” Ignoring the worrying expression on Bilbo’s face, Balin got comfortable and leaned back in his chair. “Some who enter are looking for a mate, and they will have their token with them. It’s an unspoken rule that tokens are not to be touched, stolen, or damaged in any way. Even in our most primal of states, that’s instinctual. If someone finds another that they like they may present the token to them. In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to get lost in the intense feelings and lose track of people, especially if you have multiple partners during the night.”

Bilbo’s head spun again just from that sentence. Multiple partners? He wasn’t touching that right then, probably never would because it didn’t concern him. He shook his head slightly and tuned back into Balin’s explanation. “The tokens make it easier for people to find their chosen afterwards. Assuming of course their chosen accepts. Rejecting a token is allowed, and encouraged if the feelings aren’t mutual.”

“I see,” Bilbo replied faintly. He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him to stop them from fidgeting. “You said motivations, plural. What else is there?”

“Children.” Balin chuckled when Bilbo gasped in shock, his eyes bulging. “There are some who wish to have children, without having to go through the trouble of finding a suitable donor or partner. They simply wish to mate with as many people as possible to give them the best chance of being impregnated. Or they only wish to mate with someone they find acceptable, such as the strongest hunter of the group, to ensure their child is also strong.”

“That makes sense.” That was all Bilbo could say through his disbelief. That was entirely unheard of among Hobbits. If someone had children, it was because they were mated and married and had usually planned them. No one just had children on their own, with the rare exception of an Omega who’d been widowed during pregnancy. But even then, they would often take another mate to help with raising the child, they didn’t do it all on their own. Bilbo cleared his throat and offered an apologetic smile. “Forgive me for my surprise, please. This is very different from how we Hobbits do it.”

“Oh, no worries, laddie, I thought as much.” Balin waved away his apology with his hand. “I don’t think anyone else but us Dwarves do it, not the men nor the elves. It’s why we don’t talk about it much.”

“Ah, yes, one of your many secrets.” They both chuckled at Bilbo’s teasing, then he turned serious again. Now that his mind was working through this new information, the surprise and embarrassment were completely replaced by his curiosity. Questions were popping into his head fast, but one stuck out amongst the lot. “How do you ensure children occur? After all, if the Hunt is a once a year, scheduled event, most of the participants won’t be in heat or rut when it occurs.”

Balin winked at Bilbo and gave him a smirk. “We’re back to the secrets again, laddie. We’re not as good as Hobbits when it comes to gardens and vegetables, but our healers know their herbs. Part of the Hunt is taking the right ones. Everyone eats or drinks, whichever they prefer, an herb that sends them into heat or rut. For Betas, they’re given something different that simulates whichever they choose.”

Balin entwined his fingers over his beard as he continued, “Everyone who enters is given just enough herbs based on their size and how fast they burn through medicines. No one is given too much, and what they are given is given in small amounts over the course of the two weeks, so it builds in their systems, and they have time to adjust. This also gives them a chance to change their mind or for them to see a healer if something does go wrong.”

“That’s why the preparation is so long,” Bilbo assumed. It made perfect sense to him, and it sounded as though the Dwarves had it planned out perfectly. The thought of the Hunt, while still jarring to him as a Hobbit, sounded less like a uncontrollable thing where people went crazy and did awful things to each other, and more like a large, planned party where everyone was there to go wild and have fun together. As a Hobbit who loved parties, he appreciated the logistics that went into this. And as an Omega who’d never so much as been kissed, the thought of having this chance to see what he’d been missing without fear of hurt feelings, or an arranged marriage, was beginning to sound appealing.

Bilbo shoved that thought away. He absolutely wasn’t going to do it, no matter what fantasies went on in his own head. He cleared his throat and continued with his questions. His purely academic questions. “For those who don’t want children?”

“Preventative herbs are available before and after the hunt, and we’ve worked out many options that are safe to take with the stimulant herbs,” Balin replied matter-of-factly.

Bilbo nodded slowly, taking a moment of silence to process all the information he’d just been given. When he felt like he had a good handle on everything, he smiled at Balin. “It certainly sounds like you all know what you’re doing. When will the Hunt take place, then?”

Balin tapped his chin thoughtfully before answering him. “We’ve been preparing for it for weeks now, but now that Thorin is completely healed and it’s safe for him to participate, we can finish the last few things up. It should only take another two weeks before we can get started.”

The Hobbit froze and for the second time in just five minutes he was sure he’d heard incorrectly. “Thorin? He’s going to?”

“Oh, yes, laddie, as an unmated king, it’s one of his responsibilities.” Balin barely held back a laugh at Bilbo’s surprised expression. “It is in the hopes that he might meet someone, but also to prove his raw prowess and strength against other Alphas. That’s why it’s only for unmated kings unless they wish to do the Hunt together as a couple. Most don’t though, there’s always the chance that things can go wrong in such a situation.”

“I understand that, yes.” Bilbo swallowed. He hid his hands under the desk and nervously wrung them together. “So, he will for sure be a hunter, as you called it?”

“Oh yes. We use the terms hunter and hunted, because those terms are not used solely for Alphas and Omegas respectively, but yes, Thorin, as an Alpha, will be a hunter.” Balin’s eyes twinkled over his glasses as he suddenly asked, “Will you be joining the Hunt, too, Bilbo?”

“Yes.” The answer popped out before Bilbo could even think about it.

#bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #fanfiction #I don't know what I'm doing #please help

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 21

RAAAAHHHHHHHH WE'RE BACK AND ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT AND I CAN FINALLY MOVE ONTO PART 3. The Easter holidays have just started for me so I now have three full weeks to put into the last chapter. This one could be classed as a filler chapter but there's a lot they gain that links to the future so stuff doesn't just appear 'for the plot' - the girls need their hardcore character development before the journey. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 8527

Warnings: Nothing I can think of.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 20 // Chapter 21 // Chapter 22 >

Part 2: Chapter 21 -

Interesting Concept. Poor Execution.

Brontide (Definition): The low rumble of distant thunder. (Noun / Origin: Greek /ˈbrän‧ˌtīd)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Monday, 27th March 2940 of the Third Age (Monday, 5th Astron, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)

4 MONTHS LATER

“I’m so happy you allowed me to accompany you three! It’s not every day I’m able to spare time for trip like this.” Gladiola smiled gratefully at the three of us.

--

After begging Bilbo to let us travel to Bree for a good month, he finally let up, but only agreed if we went in the spring, strongly insisting we wouldn’t survive the night if we had travelled in the deep winter.

“Bree is a hundred and thirty-five mile trip, meaning it would take a minimum of four days to get there. Meaning that we would have to camp in the freezing cold, because the only proper shelters are at least three detours from the path!”

We had instantly agreed, when we had realised the actual distance, deciding to wait until late March when the weather would be warmer.

Aa couple days before we left, Mrs Greenfoot had walked in on us packing when she was dropping off some spare socks she had knitted. After telling her where we were going, she instantly pleaded to let her go with us, saying how she heard Bree had some fabrics that she was dying to get her hands on, and how her husband was going to be at home full time for the next two weeks, so it would be a perfect opportunity for her to go. We said yes after persuading a reluctant Bilbo, and she shot off to pack, which led to now – on our fourth day of walking.

“Oh I really do hope the markets have what I want. I promised Menegilda I would make her a new dress for her birthday.” Gladiola rambled on as she took in the fields and forests ahead of us, her pace picking up with eagerness.

“I’m sure they will.” Replied Kay, grimacing at the feeling of her aching legs. “It’ll ruin the reputation they’ve built of they don’t.”

“Hopefully.” She sighed. “What are you all hoping of finding?”

“Every dangerous object under the sun apparently.” Bilbo spoke up before us. Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it over.

Taking it, Gladiola quickly scanned the list, her face morphing into surprise and shock at the same time. “Swords?? Why would you need swords?” she queried, handing it back.

“To scare off half the town, in my opinion.” Bilbo grumbled, clearly not happy with the reason we had dragged him so far. “If I didn’t want to go for some of that wine they make, I would’ve said no on the spot.”

“Well, we would’ve gone ourselves if that was the case.” I jived back.

“We just want to know that we can protect ourselves if we ever decide to try and find our way home.” Kay explained.

Bilbo slowed his pace for a moment, as something seemed to dawn on him. “Oh.” He said quietly, a tiny quiver of dejection on his face. “Yes, home. I forgot about uh.. that.” Though he quickly shook that mood off, jogging slightly to catch up.

“Plus,” I added in an attempt to alleviate the mood. “we wouldn’t be looking to own one if we didn’t think it looked insanely cool.”

And with that Bilbo sighed, back to his usual exasperated mood.

--

The wall surrounding Bree stretched high above us as we neared the wooden gate, its intimidating nature emphasised by the two-storey stone turrets that flanked either side like a pair of unmovable sentries.

Gravel and dried mud crunching underfoot, we took the last few steps, before shuffling to a stop in front of one of the towering doors. Taking a couple steps forward, Bilbo reached up and gave the surface a few hard raps, before coming back to stand beside us.

A moment passed, and only the birds and the rustling of leaves from the nearby trees could be heard, when a muffled rattling sounded from behind the door. A small hatch near my eye level swung open, revealing the wrinkled face of a man, who, at the sight of us, morphed it into a sour scowl, a stark contrast compared to the warm sun that was beating down on our backs.

“Who’re you?” he barked, his croaky and adenoidal voice matching his unpleasant demeanour perfectly.

When neither me or Kay began to speak, Bilbo quickly piped up, stretching up on his toes to try and see the gatekeeper. “Um, hello?” he called out.

The gatekeeper, quickly stepped back and slammed the hatch shut, before a creak resounded from further down, opening another hatch that was the perfect level to speak with the hobbit, giving me a very strong sense of déjà vu.

The hobbit stepped forward towards the open hatch. “We’re here to stay at the Prancing Pony, for a week.” He explained politely. “To visit the market.”

“Oh?” croaked the gatekeeper with half a smirk. “And what are you here to buy, exactly?”

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to flap the list in front of the old man’s face. “Whatever we need.” He said sternly, before stuffing the paper back in his pocket. “I have visited before, you know.”

Looking between me and Kay, then at the hobbits, his eyes narrowed. “Two hobbits and a pair of human girls, together. That’s not something you see every day.” He muttered, reminding me a lot of a certain Hogwarts caretaker, and I half-expected to see a dupe of Mrs Norris jump out of nowhere. “Tell me, how do you know each other?”

“They’re his daughters!” A voice called out, and the three of us spun around in surprise to face a nervous looking Mrs Greenfoot. “Adopted, of course. And I’m a family friend.” She added with a sheepish smile.

The gatekeeper took his time to eye us all up slowly, his bloodshot eyes scouring whatever he could. Seemingly unable to spot anything he counted as suspicious, he quickly disappeared again with a grumble, the hatch shutting with a snap. Seconds later there was a loud groan, and the door he used to speak through slowly began to open. When the gap was wide enough, the gatekeeper stepped out from behind it, revealing his mousy grey hair and tattered brown tunic and trousers. Raising a wrinkly hand, he impatiently beckoned us forward, quickly scouring the area outside as we stumbled in, before he pushed the gate shut.

Bilbo diligently led the way as we trekked down the main street, dragging Mrs Greenfoot to walk beside him.

“What in Yavanna’s name are you doing??” The two of us heard him cry in a whisper. “People are going to ask even more questions if we call them my daughters! How am I supposed to come up with a story about that???”

“Well go with the story you already have! Because it’s the one you’re going to have to run with for now, Mr Baggins.” She hissed back with a smirk.

Deciding to pointedly ignore the storm brewing in front of us, I turned to the view of the building in front of us. “Very Tudor-like.” I mentioned, admiring the dark beams that contrasted against the cream walls, along with the jettying of the upper floors that stuck out, and the metal grid panes that decorated the windows all around.

Kay hummed in agreement as she walked beside me, the both of us in awe of the once-fictional town that spanned across our view.

“It’s nice to see it not pouring with rain and caked in mud like the movies.” She whispered. I eagerly agreed, very happy about not having to fight my way through several inches of horse-trodden mud.

Grasping our skirts, we twisted between people and horse-drawn carriages, finally stopping in front of a relatively large building, the carved wooden sign hanging above us revealing itself to be the one and only Prancing Pony, and the two of us craned our necks to look up and admire the famous building Reaching an arm out, Mrs Greenfoot hauled the hefty wooden door open, and the four of us took our first steps into the inn.

Approaching the bar near the door, I watched Bilbo wipe the thunderous look on his face, turning away from where he was scowling at Gladiola to face the bartender approaching us.

“Good afternoon!” The man called, leaning his round body over the counter to take us all in with a hearty smile. “The name’s Mr Butterbur, but you lot can call me Barney. What can I do for the four of you?”

“Two rooms, if you please.” Answered Bilbo, reaching into his pocket for the right amount of coins. “Preferably split one and three.”

“Ah, you got lucky!” said Mr Butterbur, sticking his hand under the counter to bring out two keys. “You came at the right time – travelling’s picking up again now that winter’s over.” He handed the keys to Bilbo. “Rooms 5 and 6. Say, will you lot be coming down for dinner? I have a feeling it’ll be quiet this evening and we’re serving roast beef and potatoes.”

“Yes, that’ll be lovely.” Replied Gladiola with a warm smile.

Thanking the bartender once again, we set off, crossing the sparsely populated room of tables, considering it was only late afternoon, and up the narrow, creaking stairs on the other side. It didn’t take long to walk down the upper hallway to find the matching rooms, Bilbo handing us our key before he unlocked the door of his own room, insisting the separation was basic courtesy.

Evening came round quickly, our time spent downstairs in the tavern. Bilbo, Kay and Gladiola were currently sat at a table by one of the windows, and I was up by the bar, sipping a steaming tankard of tea on a rickety stool as I waited for Mr Butterbur to refill Bilbo’s wine.

“Say, I don’t suppose you know a place that could sell weapons?” I asked.

He was quiet for a moment, only raising a bushy brow as he peered down at me. Slowly, he set the refilled cup of wine down, before taking a rag out to wipe the surface. “Depends, what kind of weapons are you looking for?” he said lowly.

“Oh, nothing too dramatic.” I waved dismissably. “My friend and I are looking to venture out by ourselves at some point, you see. And we’re looking for something that’s durable and efficient, but easy to get used to, that beginners can handle.”

He seemed to lighten up again, throwing the cloth down as he braced both of his arms on the bar, eyes darting around in thought.

“Are you sure you two want to do that?” he asked with a stern but gentle look. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard the Shire is one of the safest places you can live, the world outside? Not so much. Besides, you wouldn’t want to leave your dad alone, now would you?”

I blinked. “My – ?” I spun on my chair, looking at our table when my eyes made contact with Bilbo’s, who already seemed to be staring over with light concern on his face. “Oh! He’s no – yea, he’s uh, only been our.. ‘dad’ for a few months though.”

“Even more reason to stay!” Mr Butterbur said, reaching over to poke my shoulder slightly. “You don’t want to go breaking his poor heart right after he opened it up to let you both in!”

I turned back towards the bar, a solemn look falling upon my face as I stared at the tankard in my hands. “I know it’s just…” I heaved a long sigh. “I had a family,” My voice quavered as I looked up at him with wide eyes. “No, I have a family. I wasn’t brought here by choice, I –” I pressed my palms over my teary eyes as the events from the last six months hit me all at once. “I don’t know how we got here and I can’t get us back.” I cried.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured gently, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what the two of you have gone through, but it seems that you’re distressed about the sudden change and you don’t even realise it.”

Blinking through the blur of tears, I looked up at him. “I have a bit. Bilbo’s found me crying at night over it more than once, but I’ve been telling him it’s nightmares of the night he found us.”

“A bad night?” he asked, smiling gently under his moustache.

“Very.” I replied with a wobbly grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that terrified before.”

He looked me up and down concerned, eyeing the large pink scar on my hand as I stared at it. He went to open his mouth, when he was interrupted.

“Oi Barney!” A man called from one of the tables nearby. “Don’t suppose we could get another round of mead?”

“I’ll bring ‘em round in a minute!” he called back, before turning to me once more. “Well you two have certainly had an experience, from what I can put together. But,” he lowered his voice again. “coming from a stranger, the best thing you can do, until you can find a way to get back, is to just carry on, and keep your hobbit dad company. Or, you know, find him a spouse – depends on whether he’s the bachelor type or not.”

I choked on my drink at the last statement, looking over at the hobbit with a grin. “Well whoever manages to charm him is gonna need a very strong metaphorical hammer.” I laughed. “Cuz that hobbit has enough stubbornness and resilience to rival the walls of Helm’s Deep.”

Mr Butterbur let out sharp laugh, almost spilling the tankard of beer he was filling. “Helm’s Deep! Blimey, you two must’ve done something insane to persuade him to take you in.” He chortled as he began lining up mugs of mead. “Anyway, you were asking about weapons, and I know of a guy that has a stall in the market square, name it and he’ll probably sell it.”

I perked up at the new subject. “Okay, what area of the square?”

“North-east corner, the blacksmiths.” He replied. “Ask for a man named Seathan Marshsteel. Tall, burly guy with a long dark beard and wavy hair, normally tied in a bun or something. Could be mistaken for a dwarf if it weren’t for the fact he’s over six foot.” He described with a chortle. “He’ll know what to give you, but best you go in the early hours, so the good stuff doesn’t get snagged first.”

“That’s great, thank you so much!” I exclaimed, finally getting up from the stool. Turning to face him fully, I gave him the sincerest smile I could. “And thanks for the advice, too.”

He waved a large hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. I prefer conversations with the emotional sober, than the emotional drunk.”

Giving him a laugh and a wave, I returned to the table with Bilbo’s refilled drink and my own, relaying the information Mr Butterbur had given me to Kay. The rest of that evening was spent in that corner, eating roast beef, potatoes and vegetables along with the rest of the taverns patrons, before retiring to bed for the night, ready for the next morning.

--

The murmurs of people and trotting of hooves were yet to be heard when I woke the next morning, only the chirping of the early birds, the occasional pair of footsteps scuffling beneath our window along with the crackle and pops of the dying fire across the room could be made out as I blinked the sleep away from my eyes.

I laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling cast in dark shadows by the glowing embers as Kay and Mrs Greenfoot slept on. It still felt a little strange not having my phone on the bedside table, the calm piano of my alarm floating through my ears. The battery died on the fourth night after arriving at Bilbo’s, and I had cried endlessly, reality setting in as a realised that the only potential way of contacting my family was gone, unless we found a way back. I was mostly terrified of not being able to see their faces, but managed to calm myself slightly when I went through my small collection of polaroids and found a couple family portraits. I had stored them in the envelope stuck on the back page of my grimoire, for safe keeping but also as a way of keeping them near me for good luck. Going back through the polaroids, another stroke of luck hit me as I had found a polaroid of Kay and her mum, along with her dog Barkley, that I had taken on one of her birthdays, the two of them smiling at their dining table next to a cake glowing with candles, and the large dog laid by their feet. I had slid it under her door that night, deciding to give her some time alone with it. She had come to breakfast that next morning not saying much, only quietly thanking me before settling into her meal.

Coming back to the present, I decided it was time for me to get up. I took my clothes to the bathroom, slipping on a set of light briefs and a vest top over my underwear, an extra layer to battle the early spring chill, then sliding on my shift and finally my pale green summer kirtle.

Kay and Gladiola had roused from their sleep by the time I was sat on my bed sliding my socks on. I gave them a quick ‘Good morning’, before lacing up my trusty modern walking boots, and walking out the door to go knock on Bilbo’s.

The hobbit was already up, calling through the door that he would meet us downstairs for breakfast. I returned to my room to wait for the other two, before taking the stairs down.

We got lucky that the tavern served an early breakfast, the four of us able to down the meal and get out the door when there was still only a few people wandering the streets. The sun hadn’t fully risen either, the rays only managing to shine through the gaps of buildings and alleyways, highlighted by the fading mist as the jettying upper floors kept parts of the street within the dark blue shadows of the early hours.

“– well I would like to see if they have any rolls of lace as well.” Chirped Gladiola, chattering away about the fabrics and lace she wants to try and find, and that if she got commissioned to create some more outfits with the new fabrics, she might be able to afford a new sewing desk. “I’ll be refusing any requests from your relative Lobelia, Mr Baggins. You know what she said the other day? Marched right up to poor Melba and asked her why she was wearing dishrags right in front of her friends!” she exclaimed.

“She did what?!?!” Kay shrieked in outrage.

“I know! I’m surprised you Bilbo haven’t done something to sever her from the family tree!” Gladiola said as she turned to him.

“Believe me, it’s the one thing I want.” He grumbled. “I’ve had far too many of my possessions vanish only to appear in her parlour.”

After listening to the two of them slag off Bilbo’s relative, we had finally arrived at the market. People were still sparse, only a few meandering the stalls whilst some sellers were still setting up shop.

Using the east-rising sun as a reference, Kay and I headed towards the north-east corner, with Bilbo hot on our heels. We waved goodbye to Gladiola, who ventured off with her coin purse towards the colourful fabric stalls on the other side. Walking up the path past stalls selling everything from arrays of meat to bed linens, the smells of metallic blood, spices and cloth filled our senses as our eyes set on a grey canopy propped up by wooden posts attached to a building with a blacksmiths sign hanging from it. Underneath was a counter that was part of the wall, the stall actually being part of the building itself. Approaching the counter, we peered into the shop. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls, even more hung on the racks stuck in the middle of the room like aisles, or on the ceiling like stalactites. The fire in the corner was burning bright, along with the torches lining the walls, filling our nostrils with the strong smell of smoke and the warmth of hot steel, so we figured someone was in.

Kay leant over the counter to try and look around, before calling out.

“Hello?”

A bang resonated through the air, followed by a string of hissed curses. It wasn’t long until a figure appeared hunched from behind one of the tables, clutching and rubbing to back of his head as he muttered under his breath. He gave it one last rub, before standing straight and stretching his back. Placing down the small hammer in his hand, he turned to face us with a frown, though it quickly turned to one of slight surprise. He matched the description Mr Butterbur had given me: Quite tall, about 6’3, well built and muscular, with thick wavy almost black hair, half tied up in a loose bun, with a beard reaching halfway down his chest. He was wearing a pair of loose trousers tied with a thick belt and a baggy tunic rolled up at the sleeves, and covered in patches of soot and grime, his time in the forge on clear display.

Eyeing us up and down, he took his time wandering over, using a cloth to wipe his calloused hands down whilst his face held an expression of poorly concealed confusion. The look increased tenfold as Bilbo peeked over the edge, resting his forearms on the wooden surface to prop himself up. Reaching us, he plopped the rag down, bracing his arms on the counter as his pale blue eyes took the three of us in.

“Can I… help you?” he queried, an accent similar to an Irish one strong on his tongue as he squinted at us, looking as if he couldn’t wrap his head around what was in front of him. I tried not to cough when the smell of smoke increased tenfold, rolling off him in waves.

Nodding, I slapped the list I had taken from Bilbo earlier on the counter. “Yes,” I affirmed eagerly. “We were hoping if you had anything on the list in stock.”

Taking a moment to look between me and the piece of paper, he slowly reached out, pulling the list towards him and picking it up, before grasping the spectacles that hung from his neck by some string, and sliding them on.

He spent about twenty seconds flitting his eyes between us and the list, covering it in black fingerprints until he lowered it a looked down at us over his glasses.

“You three aren’t from around here, are you?” he remarked, his deep, throaty voice resonating through the chill, morning air. “I don’t advertise outside the town unless I speak to you personally, so who told you about me?”

Slightly taken aback by the man’s cautious demeanour, I stepped in the explain. “Uh – we were recommended to visit you by Mr Butterbur?” I managed out, gesturing in the direction of the inn. “from the, uh, Pr-”

“- The Prancing Pony, I know. We’re well acquainted.” He said with a small smile though quickly returned to eyeing us up. “Tell me, what do two young girls and a hobbit want within the weapons trade. You don’t look experienced to me.”

“Which is exactly the problem.” I stated firmly. “We aren’t. And therefore we want to learn how.”

He slowly regarded the three of us with a look, and I prepared for the disappointment of his potential refusal. “Ok,” he sighed, tapping his soot-covered fingernails rhythmically on the wood. “How long are you here for?”

At our silent confusion, he raised a brow expectantly.

“Uh?” Kay vocalised, her eyes dazed in confusion. “A week? We’ve got six days left.”

“And why?” I added. “Do you need time to make them?”

He shook his head. “No.” He stated, baffling us further. Sighing, he began explaining. “None of you look like you’ve seen combat during any day of your lives, so, my proposal is in exchange for six days of dinners at the inn, I give you six days’ worth of basic training.”

Surprised, I slowly turned towards Kay, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. She eyed me back, and grins began to slowly grow on our faces. We turned to confirm the deal, when the hobbit I had forgotten was between us spoke up.

“H-hold on!” he cried, pointing a finger to emphasise his point. “You don’t know any of us. How do we know we can trust what you’re saying?”

Seathan rested on his elbows so he could lean over the counter to face the grumpy hobbit. “Do you trust Mr Butterbur?”

“Mr-” Bilbo sputtered. “We barely had one conversation with him!”

“He did seem nice though.” Kay butted in, and Bilbo whipped his head at her in outrage.

“And it’s a fair deal.” I added, watching in amusement as Bilbo comically flips his head between us, shock evident on his face. “I’ll make you Victoria cakes weekly in return.” I quickly added.

Grumbling under his breath, he eventually gave in. “Fine, they,” he emphasised, pointing to the both of us. “trust the bartender.”

“Then you can trust me.” Seathan replied warmly with a deep rumble of a laugh. “You won’t learn quickly on your own – so meet me outside the inn at 7 o'clock each morning and I’ll give you a rundown of everything. We’ll have breaks at lunch, and finish in time for dinner.”

“Woah, are you sure?” Kay held up a hand to slow him down, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you offering this to us so quickly? We’ve only just met you.”

Seathan pushed himself up from his elbows with a grunt, towering over us as he stood to his full height. “My daughters.” He revealed bluntly. “My wife’s not big on me sharing this but they asked the same thing you did. I said no, and they were injured in a small goblin ambush during one of our travels.” A sombre look fell over his eyes. “They have since recovered, but that guilt has weighed on me ever since, therefore I’ve wanted to offer training to girls and women when they’ve been given no opportunity to do so before.”

Kay nodded slowly, happy with the explanation. “I’m sorry to hear that – I’m glad they’re ok now. So we’ll meet you tomorrow?”

“Come round sometime after luncheon today if you can.” Seathan requested. “The sooner I can get swords in your hands the better.”

Thanking him, we wandered back into the depths of the market, it’s scents dominating our senses once again as we scanned for our other hobbit companion.

---

That morning whizzed by as fast as we would allow it, our nervous excitement for the afternoon sending a slightly uncomfortable buzz through our stomachs, the thought of what was to come prominent on our minds as we scarfed our ham and lettuce sandwiches down. We had changed outfits as well – I now sat in my cream blouse and baggy brown corduroy dungarees, and Kay in her black tank top with some loose, pale brown trousers that closely resembled cargos, and a knitted cardigan slung on top. Sure, it looked a little modern, but we hoped the earthy colours would keep people’s interest away

When we had finished, we wandered outside, only to find Seathan waiting beside the door, instead of where he said he would be by the blacksmiths. Pushing himself off the wall he slowly strode over, no longer donned in his apron, choosing to only remain in his slightly sooty shirt and dungarees.

“You girls ready?” he questioned as he pulled his curls back to tie them with a piece of cloth. Shifting a little, he looked behind us. “Where’s your hobbit friend?”

Still a bit hesitant about his forwardness, I gave him a simple reply. “He doesn’t want to come – said he had planned this week for relaxing and wine tasting.”

He gave a nod as he chuckled. “Fair enough.” He remarked, and beckoned us along as he began trapsing down the now bustling street, the two of us following not long after.

Leading us down a wide alley just before we hit the market, he led us through some of the residential housing, that slowly turned from the fusty smelling, overhanging town houses that were packed together like sardines, to detached cottages with front gardens lined with crudely woven branches to act as fences, goats, donkeys and the odd cat mulling about the small patches of crops in each one. The town was fully alive now, the sun passing midday as everyone got on with their jobs and chores, voices and shouting echoing from down each passage as we trekked past. We were thankful that the early spring weather had allowed the sun to dry out the large mud patches that would’ve otherwise sucked up our poor shoes, watching the solid cracks and chunks grow in size the closer we got to the more rural neighbourhoods.

Rounding one last cottage, we came face to face with the open countryside, the grass long and swaying in the gentle breeze, with the occasional oak tree sheltering a few livestock from the 12 o’clock sun. Climbing over a rickety fence, Seathan brought us to our destination. A large patch of grass had been shortened – about half the size of a football field, and somewhat recently if the loose grass piles and faint smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the usual stink of livestock said anything. Down one of the edges were several wooden posts that had been hammered into the ground, branches and planks nailed on to make them look like human dummies, covered in chips and gashes where they had been practiced on previously. Down another side were some makeshift archery targets; wooden circles cut from tree trunks with white and red paint hastily slapped on in rings.

Eyeing up the equipment, I blindly followed the sound of Seathan’s footsteps. When they stopped, I turned my head to face him, about to ask what was to happen, only to flail my arms out in an attempt to catch the wooden sword that was flung at my face. Managing to grab it at the very edge of the hilt, I darted my wide eyes to the towering man to watch him chuck another at Kay, who had watched my floundering and was prepared enough to catch it with ease.

Picking up a slightly larger wooden sword, he weighed and swung it around as he approached us. “Ok. We’re going to start out with some wooden swords.” He held up a hand as Kay opened her mouth. “And before you protest, I would much rather you get bruises from these rather than deal with a mutilated limb from an actual sharpened sword.”

Pouting, Kay snapped her jaw shut, and we both trailed after him into the centre of the field.

“Now,” he began, turning to us, signalling for us to place our swords down as he did the same. “I know you two won’t gain the arm strength for swinging swords overnight, so we’ll start with some footwork so you don’t twist the wrong way and fall on your own weapon.”

The next couple hours were spent with us practicing out foot spacing and placement, Seathan reaching down to twist our ankles slightly every once in a while, shouting which way to put our feet when spinning around to face potential enemies as we spun and twisted to each end of the field. It oddly felt like I was back in my ballet classes, learning how to walk on the tip of my toes for the very first time again.

Eventually we were able to pick up the swords, learning how to use our arms alongside our feet as we twisted and turned to block his mock attacks that got stronger and stronger each hour, the man insisting that defence was the first and most important thing to learn when it came to combat.

Sweat was running down both of our backs by the time Seathan had called it a day, the sun now nearing the treeline in the distance as the breeze began to cool the moisture on our skin, sending chills down our backs.

“Ughhhhh I feel so muckyyyy.” Kay groaned as she chucked her sword back in the makeshift chest under one of the nearby trees, holding her arms out in front of her as she tried to pick her cardigan up with the tips of her now mud-stained fingers.

“Tell me about it.” I grumbled, exhausted as I reached down to grab the half-filled water tankard, given to us by a lovely woman who had seen us being worked to death by Seathan, who had actually introduced herself as his aforementioned wife. When she had suspiciously asked what we had used to pay him, she had sighed knowingly when we revealed it was several dinners.

“He only asks for that because I don’t let him.” She had muttered amusedly to us as she refilled one of the animal troughs for us to wash our hands in. “He’d be down there every other night stuffing his face otherwise – says Barney’s steak is a god-send. I told him throwing up on customers after eating it all would have an enormous impact on his business’s reputation.”

After chatting to the friendly woman for a few minutes, we were soon ushered up by Seathan, who had hardly broken a sweat at all that day – ‘the pros of working with a kiln every day, you build a resilience to heat’ he had remarked proudly.

Trudging back through the now-calmer town, we wearily made our way back to the Prancing Pony.

---

“By Yavanna, look at the state of you two!!” Bilbo had cried when we walked in, the hobbit gawping at our less-than acceptable appearances. “Yuv’got – mud. Everywhere!” he sputtered, gesturing at our clothes. “Go change, now.”

Snorting at his antics, the two of us dashed up the stairs of the inn, disappearing before we could watch the seething hobbit turn on our slightly nervous teacher.

When we returned having changed into our original clothes from this morning, we joined the two hobbits and Seathan at the table, who we’re all currently waiting for us to arrive before eating the fresh plates of dinner placed in front of them. We sat down and began eating whilst Seathan was recounting what he had taught us as he scarfed down his well-earned meal.

“– yea, they’re getting the hang of it quite quickly!” he stated with a proud grin. “Could say we’ve got a couple of naturals on our hands.”

I smiled back. “I’m just glad we weren’t thrown under the bus straight away, otherwise I would’ve given up.” I joked, but my joking was immediately stopped at the feeling of my throat jamming up, and I clenched my teeth, digging my nails into my palm as I tried not to make it obvious.

Seathan paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as he glanced at me with a bewildered look. “What’s a bus?”

Staring at him, I remained silent waiting for the invisible hands to stop choking me, and he began frowning as he noticed my cheeks turn a slight pink. I flinched slightly as I felt Kay’s foot kick my shin, and my airway opened once again, and it took me a lot of strength to not heave on the spot. I quickly darted my eyes over to see Kay staring at me, silently staring at me as she realised what was going on. Facing the other three, who were looking at me with curious looks, I racked my brain for an excuse.

“Oh! It’s uh.. just a saying where we’re from.” I laughed nervously, still trying to hide my excessive breathing. “We have different names for transport there. Like, um, a carriage is, obviously, known as a carriage, ha ha, but we have nicknames for it, like bus, or.. or car for short?”

A few moments of silence of passed as they processed my rambling.

“Bus is a strange word to call a carriage.” Muttered Seathan, furrowing his brows. “But, if that’s what your lot have named it, then I won’t be one to judge.” He shrugged before returning to stuffing his mouth with potatoes. Bilbo and Gladiola were already back to eating, used to our strange words and sayings by this point.

I glanced at Kay, only to see her glaring at me with raised eyebrows. I narrowed my own back at her mockingly, raising my tankard of tea to my face. “It’s not my fault we’re stuck with medieval people.” I muttered from behind it.

All I got was mashed potato flicked at my forehead in return.

---

The following five days flew by, Seathan putting us through intense training that was far more gruelling than we thought. I mean, c’mon, doing ten laps around the field is a tad bit excessive, plus, arms wield swords, not legs.

I regrettably voiced those thoughts to our teacher, who then proceeded to have us do push-ups and lifting heavy tools he brought from his shop every hour, much to our frustration. He also asked if there was anything else we wanted to learn the basics in – I had said archery, after enjoying it a few times at festivals and residential trips with school or the girl-guiding groups I was in. Kay had excitedly said she wanted to learn throwing axes. And then proceeded the extra push-ups and benching, Seathan insisting that if we wanted to learn a practice that required a hell of a lot of arm strength, then it will have to be a daily task of exercise for as long as possible before we got to our full strength. I collapsed in protest at that.

By the time Monday rolled around, the two of us could barely pick up a fork to eat, and Gladiola fretted over us as she helped shovel food onto our forks, whilst Bilbo glared daggers over the table at an amused Seathan, muttering under his breath about the ways he was going to set the man’s giant beard on fire.

---

“Oh, you two are going to have to show me what you’ve learnt on the way back!” exclaimed Gladiola as she folded our belongings into our packs, due to our arms and legs still unfortunately incapacitated. “And make sure you give that man the biggest thank you for what he’s done – not just anyone is willing to give up their time for strangers.”

“Yes mum.” Was all Kay groaned, voice muffled from where she was face-planted on her pillow. Slowly rolling over with a prolonged whine, she faced to where I was splayed out like a starfish on the next bed over. “We’re gonna die before we even reach the evening.” She mumbled, face half scrunched by the pillow.

“Now don’t say that.” Lectured Gladiola, whipping Kay’s ankle with a sock as she pattered by with the copious amounts of fabrics and ribbons she had bought, only receiving a short grunt in response. “We’ve got a four-day travel ahead of us, and with that mood, I’ll be forcing you both to carry mine and Bilbo’s packs.”

Slowly pushing herself up, copper strands still stuck to her face, Kay swung her legs over the bed. “Fine.” She mumbled. “We’re up.”

“Good.” Gladiola replied with a smile. “We should have left ten minutes ago, so Kate if you don’t get up we’re leaving you behind.” She half joked as she hauled our packs out the doorway.

“Girlie, c’mon.” Added Kay as she shook my ankle.

Reluctantly, I pushed myself up the best I could, trying to ignore the agonising aches all over my body as I laced up my boots and followed the two out the door.

---

“Now remember, you have to do the exercises I’ve given you at least an hour every day, and memorise the tips I’ve given you for hitting enemy’s weak spots.” Seathan lectured, handing us two sheets of parchment. “I’ve written them down here, and I’ve also thrown in some blunt steel swords so you can upgrade when you both feel ready to.”

Accepting the objects gratefully, we pushed some coins into the man’s hands so he could reward himself with some extra meals, thanked him profusely as we stood by the entrance gate to Bree, trying our best to ignore the lingering stare of the gatekeeper as he peered suspiciously at us.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” said Seathan, marching hurriedly over to a long leather pack that was propped against the wall surrounding the town. Returning to us, he loosened the strings of the pack and pulled the contents out.

“Here’s a set of throwing axes for Kay, and a bow and arrows for you, Kate. I also threw in some polish, oil, and tools for sharpening the blades of the axes and arrows, along with replacement strings for the bow and whatnot.”

“What?!?!” we both said consecutively.

“We can’t accept that –” “It’s too much! – ”

“I paid for it.”

Freezing, the two of us slowly turned until we faced Bilbo, who stared back, before sighing.

“You two can’t be taught all that and expect to leave with hardly anything.” He explained almost nonchalantly, pulling out the crumpled list we had written. “You wouldn’t have gotten anything on your list.”

A beat passed, before I flew down and scooped him up into my arms.

“WHAT THE – ” he sputtered.

“Father.” I said. He froze.

“Father.” Kay repeated, reaching over to continuously pat the curls on his head.

He whipped his head between us with panicked eyes. “WH- I’M NOT YOUR DAD – PUT ME DOWN!”

“Told you he adopted them.” We heard Gladiola mutter to Seathan.

Eventually placing him down, the two of us knelt down to drag him into a hug, despite his grumbling.

“Thank you.” Kay whispered. “For everything.”

With a sigh, he settled, reaching up to wrap his arms around us both. “You’re welcome, but for the love of Yavanna don’t make me regret any of it.”

With matching cheshire grins, we assured him we wouldn’t, before clambering up excitedly to receive the pack of shiny new weapons from Seathan. And within a few minutes, we were waving a hearty farewell to the blacksmith, yelling our goodbyes and thanks until he disappeared behind the closing gate.

Walking through the trees, we chattered away endlessly about the events of the past week, failing to see the two pairs of glowing blue eyes, watching us from the treeline.

---

2 MONTHS LATER

A couple months had passed since we had arrived back in the Shire, and a lot had happened since then.

We had shown Gladiola the techniques we were taught during the evenings when we were on our return trip, and she had pleaded that we taught her kids, saying how they had always wanted to play knights when they were younger. A couple weeks in, Kay and I had stumbled across a clearing on the outskirts of Hobbiton, surrounded by trees and seasonal wildflowers with a scenic view of the town from where it was further up one of the hills. It was a perfect spot; close enough to Bag End where Bilbo could sit on the bench by his front door and watch us, but the trees made it private enough for us to set up targets to practice both our weapons training, along with our magic, without the risk of someone stumbling upon us.

The most exciting part, however, was meeting Bertin Grubb, who owned the pony stables across town. After seeing the lean muscle we had begun to develop on our arms from the training, he had offered us a job assisting him with caring for the ponies, figuring we were tall and strong enough to handle the animals when they were being stubborn. It took a while getting used to, having to bend down excessively to use the small hobbit-sized wheelbarrow, or the rake with a handle too short for two girls at least twice the height of the average hobbit. But he eventually managed to get us some suitable enough, and we thoroughly loved every second, excited to finally be able to pay Bilbo back for everything he had done, especially when doing a job as fun as ours.

 Except for shovelling the horse crap.

It stank.

---

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Friday, 5th May 2940 of the Third Age (Highday, 15th Thrimidge, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)

The sun was barely rising when Kay and I got up, readying ourselves for an early shift when we received a letter that Bertie had received two new animals and needed the extra hands earlier than normal.

Trudging down the path as the birds sang their morning song, we munched on the poached eggs buns Bilbo had shoved into our hands as we were about to step out the door, before he had promptly marched back to bed for a well-earned lie in.

Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I mumbled a conversation with Kay as we walked between the hedges lining the path. Soon enough, we neared the stables, only to see a frantic looking Bertie, who seemed to be nervously waiting for us whilst tightly clutching his cap between his short fingers by the wooden archway leading in. When his wide brown eyes landed on us as we rounded the corner, he cried out in relief.

“Oh thank Yavanna you’re here!” he cried, jogging over to us. “A friend of mine found them wandering the outskirts looking all muddy and he begged me to take them cause they were eating his crops but they’re so large I don’t know what to do with them! I –”

“Woah, woah! Hey!” I raised my voice slightly to cut off his rambling. “What do you mean large? What are they?”

“Horses!” he wailed, dragging his hands down his face. “Giant! Horses!”

Kay perked up, trying to look through the archway. “Really? Can we see them?”

Bertie looked up at her with a sweaty forehead and hopeful eyes. “That’s the thing.” He laughed meekly. “I was hoping you two could take charge of them? I’m afraid I might get stepped on if I go near them again.”

Following Bertie into the stables, he led us to the end stalls, to where there were two of possibly the tallest horses I had ever seen in my life.

One was patterned like a cow, black and white patches covering it’s body, the other pitch black, with only small, pure white socks colouring the ends its fluffy hooves, and a singular white star-like stripe running down its head.

Feeling like one of those girls in those magical horse novels, I slowly approached the black one, its features resembling those of a Shire horse – fitting, considering where we were. Kay’s looked like a Clydesdale, and I watched from the corner of my eye as she neared it, wonder glinting in her eyes as she offered her hand. I followed with my own, looking up at the beast that towered over me, the top of my head barely reaching its snout despite my tall height, as it’s black eyes peered back down to meet my own dark brown ones.

“Now you know why I can’t look after them myself.” Bertie half-laughed, flitting his eyes between the two animals, keeping his distance from the two animals as he watched, scuffing his heel against the floor like he wanted to bolt. “They’re girls, so hopefully won’t be territorial or anything that could cause issues with the ponies.”

I snorted. “I’m pretty sure you’ve just given the ponies two empresses to worship – they’ll probably follow them around the pasture like loyal minions whenever they’re together.” I grinned as I faced the poor hobbit, who looked on the verge of trembling.

He took a shaky breath. “Ok, well, you can do what you like with them, just make sure they don’t go mental and destroy half the place. Please.”

“I doubt they’ll do that.” Piped up Kay, who had now managed to start stroking the snout of her horse. “If you managed to get them here without a fuss, then they should remain docile.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Hopefully.”

After that, Bertie quickly wrapped up the conversation, clearly desperate to get elsewhere so he didn’t have to face the two powerhouses bunking in the stables next to each other. He had mumbled about finding saddles and equipment large enough for them, before quickly scurrying off.

Turning back to face the horse in front of me, I reached up to gently place my hand on its sloping snout. “What’re you naming yours?” I asked, turning to her.

Looking up at the pink snout that was trying to nibble at her hand, she pondered for a moment. “Mmm, something like Calhourn maybe.”

“Nice.” I complimented. “I thought you would’ve gone for something like Moo Moo.”

She snorted. “That’s something you would go for.” She paused. “But it is a strong contender. Perhaps I’ll have it as a nickname.” She turned to me. “What’re you gonna choose?”

“Spleens.”

“No.”

“Ok, how about Felony?”

“Better, cooler, sounds like a name, but maybe choose something more… socially acceptable.”

I grunted in annoyance. “I want a name that disturbs people when they hear it – it’ll be a good conversation starter.”

“It’ll also be a good way to start the conversation of creating Middle Earth’s first mental asylum.” Kay deadpanned. “You can name something like your first pet cat Spleens, but not a horse that you could be riding into battle and potentially have written down in history.”

“But it’ll be the most remembered.” I pouted.

“And the most judged. Now, save the poor horse her dignity and give her a nice name.” she demanded.

“Doo Doo Daggins.”

“I swear to god.”

“Ok! Ok!” I giggled, petting the horse’s snout as she nudged at my hand. “Something fancy then.”

She nodded. “Yea, maybe something that relates to something you do? I don’t know – your witch stuff has a lot of fancy words in it.”

My eyes lit up. “Ohh! What about Hecate!? It links to my practice, and could be some type of dedication to her as a deity!”

Kay raised her brows. “That’s actually not bad. You gonna give her a nickname?”

I pondered for a moment. “Yea. Spleens.”

Kay just sighed.

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

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Three ships: Only three? I don't think I'm capable of only mentioning three. I'll ship almost anything if it's written well enough. In the current iteration of my Star Wars hyperfixation: Codywan is probably obvious so, Quinlan/Fox, Waxer/Boil, Echo/Fives

And three others I was stuck on before returning to Star Wars: Washington/Tucker (RedvsBlue), Thorin/Bilbo (The Hobbit), James Bond/Q (Daniel Craig Bond movies)

First ever ship: Hmm, probably Pink ranger/Green ranger in original Power Rangers and Elisa/Goliath in Gargoyles.

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Last movie: A Haunting in Venice. I adore the character of Poirot and Kenneth Branagh is such a good actor and director.

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Book- A Court of Thorns and Roses because bestie will not shut up about it.

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[possessionisamyth]

“Oohh, he’s nervous. He’s hopin’ we’ll stall a bit more,” whispered Bofur. It wasn’t much of an actual whisper to keep the conversation private. It was a loud whisper Thorin was meant to hear.

“Quiet Bofur,” whispered Bilbo. This was an actual whisper, but the brief pause in kitchen duties meant the silence allowed Thorin to hear the words anyway.

When the two joined him, Bilbo set several trays of finger foods next to the tea kettle and the other mule cups of tea. Thorin noticed the hobbit was adorned in a graying dwarvish tunic tucked into his regular brown pants, His suspenders hadn’t survived the trip, but somehow he’d found another pair with khuzdul runes embroidered on the blue straps. If Thorin didn’t know anything of his people’s designs, he’d have thought Bilbo was in his regular hobbit clothes.

Bofur plucked one of the mule cups and took a sip, frowned, added a spoonful of butter to his cup, took another sip, and with a smile sat on the couch with thinning cushions. His hair wasn’t in it’s usual twin pigtails, but instead was in one thick, long braid that he let sit onto his shoulder. The hearth was roaring meaning he’d forgone his layers wearing his own faded orange tunic. He hadn’t bothered tucking it into his dark brown pants, and there were no boots, but knitted socks on his feet. The hat never left Bofur’s head no matter the weather or the environment it seemed since it was still perched in it’s rightful place. Thorin felt overdressed in his layers but lack of armor.

“Please, help yourself,” said Bilbo as he adjusted the pillows where he sat. “Are you comfortable? Do you need another pillow?”

Thorin was sitting on enough pillows. Bilbo must’ve had the chair refurbished for this visit from how thick the cushions were under his legs. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“So polite,” Bofur said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, “Here, give me your mug.”

“No!” Bilbo pushed the flask back towards Bofur. “We’re having this discussion completely well of mind.”

“Ah.” Bofur’s gaze flicked over to a wooden pipe which was left on a different table. “Bit late for that isn’t it?”

read my fic i want attention

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39882087

#boffins #bagginshield #boffinshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #bofur #bofur the dwarf #thorin oakenshield #aris advents

[brglhobbit]

Tea time husbands

#bagginshield #my art #bilbo baggins #thorin #the hobbit #hobbit fanart #thorin's knit socks

[theelfmaiden]

@brglhobbitdtiys!

AAAAAHHH! I finally managed to find some time amidst the exam turmoil to draw this with a tinny tiny twist - Bilbo dozed off and Thorin, being the utterly besotted dwarf, didn't want to wake him up!

For you, @brglhobbit, and hip hip hooray to your dtiys!

❤️

#brglhobbitdtiys #tolkien #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #thilbo #bagginshield #fan art #my art #joli's art #thorin's a big chunky boy! 😅❤️ #and his socks look like they're made out of chainmail... 😁 i have knitted socks at home but no... couldn't take a look... #also behold my ugly handwriting... 👌

[guardianofrivendell]

Dwarves Always Knock Thrice

Requested: Yes and no. @estethell​ challenged me to write a modern AU with Fíli and Kíli knocking at the reader’s door instead of Bilbo’s by mistake. I interpreted it as a ‘what if Fíli and Kíli end up in modern day Europe?’

Warnings: none so far, I wrote this with a fem!reader (sorry! I try to write more gender neutral in the future, I promise)

Summary: What if one day your favorite fictional characters knock on your door? A modern AU with a twist! (any similarities to what I would do in this case are purely coincidental 😏)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. There are hundreds of fics like this one. But none of them were written by me and my weird sense of humor 😆 Depending on the response I’ll turn this into a multichapter fic, if not this will stay a standalone oneshot. 

Humming a rather cheerful tune, you pressed the button on top of the coffee machine and your morning fuel started dripping into your favorite cup. You waited patiently until the foam reached the edge and then you turned the machine off. With the cup held between your hands, you inhaled deeply. Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee for a perfect start of the day.

A few minutes ago your boyfriend had left to go to work, only to see him again by the end of next week. He was going on a citytrip with your group of friends for a few days, which had been planned ages ago.  You were supposed to go with them, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any vacation days left. No, it was back to work for you instead. 

Not that you minded. You loved your job, and you were lucky enough to be able to work from home when you wanted to. It didn’t actually feel like work that way. At least you had decent coffee, you didn’t have to dress up and you could take a break whenever you wanted.  And now with your boyfriend gone for the week, you had no interruptions and lots of quiet evenings to look forward to. Cheers to that, you thought while you sipped at your coffee. 

The dinner table became your makeshift workplace, coffee within reach. There were no video meetings scheduled today so you were wearing your favorite pair of black leggings and a long oversized knitted sweater, with fluffy socks on your feet to complete your comfy outfit. 

You moved your computer mouse and your laptop sprung to life.  James, your Sphynx cat, hopped on the table and pushed his head in your hand, demanding cuddles.

“Another day at the office, how dreadful,” you smiled, petting him behind his ear. James purred and started to bathe himself. 

He was a Sphynx cat, so there was no fur. Nothing but flawless pink skin, soft to the touch. It almost felt like petting a warm peach. You chuckled at the comparison, and James stopped his grooming to look at you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry your Majesty. I’ll let you to it.” 

You booped his nose and got to work. 

After a day of sifting through emails, processing data and editing documents and spreadsheets, you felt utterly exhausted. A phrase your boyfriend likes to throw at you on these moments suddenly came to mind, ‘How can you be so tired when you’ve done nothing but sit down on your ass all day?’ Always the charmer.

You stood up, raised your arms above your head and stretched, groaning in the process. You froze when your stretch session was interrupted by three knocks on your front door. 

“Who still knocks these days?”

It was almost 6 pm, slowly turning dark outside and you’d let the shutters down about an hour ago. It was something you did as soon as the sun was setting. It was silly really, but it made you feel safe. 

But now it prevented you from seeing who was at your door.

The neighbours from down the street wouldn’t come by for a visit, they were the kind of people that liked to keep to themselves. Your parents would call first, so… a polite burglar perhaps?

You couldn’t be too careful these days, especially now, when you were alone, so you went to your intercom first to see who was at the door. 

The camera didn’t show anyone. You could see a part of your front yard, but that was it. Strange… You thought you could hear voices, so maybe there was someone at the door after all. Maybe someone had driven their car into the ditch. Wouldn’t be the first time. You lived in the countryside, with roads where only one car at a time could pass, with ditches on both sides. A challenge for city people, and the occasional daredevil usually had to be towed out of said ditch. 

What’s life without a little risk, you thought, and made your way to the front door. You weren’t the one to turn away from people in need. It would probably get yourself killed one day, you were too kind and gullible and people tended to take advantage of that. 

Another three knocks sounded, a little louder this time and you swung the door open. 

“Finally!”

Your boyfriend rushed inside and shot up the stairs. When you looked to your driveway, you saw his car with the lights on, the motor still running. He was running late again. As usual. 

After a few minutes he thundered down the stairs, his hiking boots in hand. 

“Almost forgot these,” he said while lifting them. He kissed your cheek and ran off.  You sighed. “See you next week, sweet. I’ll miss you.” 

Sarcasm was your way to cope, to learn how to deal with the lack of love and care. Because who were you kidding? He wouldn't miss you. 

You shuffled to your kitchen, in need of something hot. To drink, that is. And while the coffee machine filled your cup for the second time that day, you rubbed your face with your hands trying to think of how you had ended up in this situation in the first place… 

“Just try and enjoy a week by yourself,” you whispered. 

You were about to take a first sip when three knocks sounded for the third time.

“Seriously?”

When you opened the door, you couldn’t stop the massive eyeroll when you saw it was your boyfriend again. 

“Hand me the reservation papers of the hotel, will you? I forgot them and I need the address for the gps,” he said. 

“I sent it in an email to Tom, and I put the address in the gps system yesterday. Now go, you’re late enough as it is. Call me when you get there okay?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek again. 

“Bye! Enjoy your week by yourself!” “I will, don’t worry,” you smiled. 

Before you closed the door there was a bright white flash. You covered your ears on instinct, something you always did when there was a thunderstorm. 

“That was very closeby,” your boyfriend gasped. “They didn’t say anything about a thunderstorm tonight.” “I’m not sure that was lightning… there was no thunder?” “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

And with those words your boyfriend left for the second time that night. 

After closing the front door with a small heart, you tried to calm yourself.  You were terrified of thunderstorms, and you really didn’t feel like going through one when you were on your own. Let’s just hope he was right and it was nothing, you thought. 

Your coffee…! Taking a sip from the now lukewarm drink, you pondered if you would make it into an Irish or Italian one. Heaven knows you deserved it, right?  With your coffee still in hand you made your way over to the liquor cabinet, only to be interrupted by yet another pair of knocks on the front door.

“I’m going to kill him,” you murmured while you walked into the hallway. “What could he have possibly forgotten this time?”

You swung the door open with a little too much force, but you couldn’t care less by that time. The small amount of patience you had left was already out of the window and you just wanted to enjoy your spiked coffee. 

“What did you forg-?!”

Your voice got caught in your throat when your eyes fell on your visitors. Visitors. As in plural. Definitely not your boyfriend.  You recognized them immediately, there was no doubt who they were but… it couldn’t be! This was simply impossible!

In your shock you forgot you were holding your cup of coffee and it slipped out of your hand. The cup completely shattered on the floor but you hardly noticed. 

Because right in front of you, in the light of your porch light at your very own doorstep, stood Fíli and Kíli. 

As in Fíli and Kíli, nephews to Thorin, King under the Mountain. As in Fíli and Kíli, characters from The Hobbit. Fictional characters. With a heavy emphasis on ‘fictional’. Made up by Tolkien. 

So how the hell was it possible that they were standing in front of you, alive and well?

The two Durin brothers were a bit taken aback so it seemed, because they too remained silent at first. After a few awkward seconds Kíli was the one who decided to speak up instead of his older brother. He was clutching his sword and quiver, just like he did in the movie. 

“Kíli,” he began. He was side eyeing his brother who was still staring at you, and smacked Fíli’s chest when he didn’t respond.  “What?”  “Kíli,” Kíli repeated, pointing at himself and then at his brother who finally caught on. “And Fíli.” “At your service,” they both continued, bowing deeply.

“Y/N, at yours,” you responded without a second thought.  Kíli’s face split into a wide smile.

“We’re looking for master Boggins!” “Yeah, I kind of expected you to say that,” you murmured, but they heard you. “Oh, so you’re a seer?” Kíli assumed excitedly. “No! No, I’m just… me. But there is no mister Baggins here,” you said, correcting Kíli. “Are we at the wrong house?” Fíli wondered.   “I’m afraid so.” “Well… can you help us find him?” Kíli looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “I would but, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Both of their faces fell. They were so in character, if someone was pranking you, they did one hell of a job in finding these two actors. And their costumes were spot on, from the carvings on Kíli’s bow to the colour of Fíli’s fur coat. It was scaringly accurate… They looked so much like Dean and Aidan’s version, but not quite. You didn’t know why exactly, but you had the feeling they were real. They were Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís. 

Fíli stared at you with a confused expression. “What do you mean, my lady?”

Oh. Now, if you weren’t already a little enamored by their looks, the title he just gave you would have. You weren’t exactly used to endearments. 

Not that Fíli had meant as an endearment but you wouldn’t mind if they called you my lady for the rest of your life. It just made you grow a couple of inches. 

“I’m probably going to regret this, but… come in.”  You stepped aside so they could enter the hallway. 

The heavy boots they were wearing made scratching sounds on your tile floor and your mind immediately went to your delicate wooden floors in the rest of your house. 

You were going to sound extremely bossy and uptight but you had to think of your interior. 

“Could you both maybe take off your boots?”

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. 

“If you want?” Fíli asked you. 

“Please.”

You took the swords and quiver from Kíli so he had his hands free and placed them in a corner of your hallway. Fíli followed your example and added his own weapons to the pile. 

“I trust you not to attack us when we’re unarmed,” he winked at you. 

You smiled back at him, knowing all too well he still had some smaller knives hidden somewhere.  For a moment the thought of reenacting the knife scene in Mirkwood crossed your mind, but you thought better of it. He wouldn’t find it as funny as you thought it was and you’d probably lose a finger or two if you tried to take a knife from him. It was best not to challenge him. Yet. 

Once their boots were placed neatly next to their weapons, you motioned them to follow you into your living room. Your eyes drifted to the shards of your coffee mug and the spilled coffee, you needed to clean it up but it simply had to wait.

“I don’t really know how to begin explaining all this,” you said, while waving your arms around you, “but it might be a good idea if we sit down?”

You gestured towards the sitting area and both brothers took a seat on your couch.

It seemed like they didn’t know where to look first.  Their eyes wandered to your tv, surround system, laptop, aquarium, … 

Kíli whispered something in Fíli’s ear, to which the older brother shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want to drink anything?” you suggested. “I have water, milk, beer, …”

Their eyes lit up when you mentioned the beer, so you nodded your head. 

“Beer it is, although I need to warn you. It’s Belgian beer, so it’s probably a lot stronger than what you guys are used to.”

You mentally facepalmed at your last sentence, why did you even mention that? They didn’t realize they were in a different universe, so mentioning your country would give them zero information. 

“I think we can handle it just fine,” Kíli commented with a smirk. Fíli nodded in agreement.  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

After another look at the dwarves on your couch, you disappeared into your kitchen. You fetched two beer glasses out of the dishwasher and two bottles of beer from your fridge, before you noticed how much your hands were shaking.

Okay, Y/N, you need to calm down first… Easy to say when you have two dwarves sitting in your living room. Dwarves! And your favorite dwarves too.  How many times had you imagined this exact moment in your fantasies? In your dreams? 

Of course! That was it…!  You probably fell asleep at your laptop and you were dreaming.  But then why did it feel so real?

Maybe someone was pranking you after all? Nah, that wasn’t likely. Nobody knew you were even in the Tolkien fandom. Let alone who your favorite characters were. 

So it must be a dream... But if you were dreaming, they definitely would have been an exact copy of the movie Fíli and Kíli. As in, Dean and Aidan in costumes. The ones sitting on your couch looked slightly different, still handsome - Mahal, did they look handsome - but you would probably refer to them as discount Dean and Aidan. 

Your small mental breakdown was interrupted when Kili started to scream. 

“What is that?!”

Quickly snatching the bottles and glasses in both of your hands, you hurried back to the Durin princes. 

When you entered your living room, you were met with quite the hilarious view. Tolkien had described Fíli and Kíli as fearless and courageous, but there was nothing courageous about their behaviour right now.Fíli was sitting with his legs pulled up and Kili half on Fili’s back, pointing at James who was trying to jump on Fili’s lap. 

“That’s James, my cat.”

“That’s a cat?!” Kíli yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” you laughed, placing the glasses and bottles on the coffee table. “He’s a sphynx cat, he’s supposed to look like that. They don’t have fur.”

You called James and he immediately ran to you, so you could pick him up. He rubbed his head against your chin and started purring, happy to get some attention. 

You crouched down before the two princes.

“Go ahead, pet him. You don’t have to be scared.” “We’re not scared,” Kíli protested, puffing out his chest.  You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

They were wary at first, but eventually both brothers were petting James. Before you could stop him, James jumped out of your arms on Fíli’s lap and curled up against the fur of his coat. 

Fíli froze and tried his best not to let it show that he wasn’t comfortable with this at all. Next to him, Kíli had the hardest time keeping a straight face, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his chuckles but his shoulders were already shaking with laughter. 

You poured their beer and placed it in front of them. 

“Like I said, it’s pretty strong so small sips. Do you want me to take James away?” Fíli shook his head. “I-it’s fine!”

You took a seat on your other couch and anxiously started to rub your thighs. 

“So… like I said, I don’t really know how to explain this but I think I know what happened to you.” “Wait… did something happen to us? I don’t understand?” Kíli asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Oh, right. They didn’t realise they were in a different universe right now. Maybe you should take a different approach. 

“Can you tell me what happened before you knocked on my door?”

Kíli took the two glasses and gave one to his brother before he took a gulp, humming appreciatively. 

“I like this,” he said. “And to answer your question, we traveled to the Shire and knocked on the door with the mark. And here we are!” “But… my door doesn’t have a mark?”

It was Fíli’s turn to roll his eyes. “Kee, you’re not telling the whole story. But you’re right about this,” he smiled while raising his glass, taking another sip. “This is good stuff.”

You chuckled when you saw some foam sticking to his mustache.  He raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?”

“I have enough beer in the fridge, you don’t have to save some for later,” you laughed, pointing at your own lip to get the message across. 

Fíli quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The movement made James shift in his lap and the Dwarf went rigid again.  You decided not to say anything about it, you figured maybe Fili didn’t like cats that much. Or just James. 

“So what did Kíli leave out?” “Your door wasn’t the first one we knocked on. There was a round, green door in the Shire. And that one had the mark of Gandalf. He’s a wizard.”

You nodded. So far it went exactly like it should. Shire, green door, mark. 

“But when we knocked on it, we found ourselves in a field all of a sudden. And your house was the only one around so we figured that was where we were supposed to be. Since Gandalf is a wizard, you never know what to expect.”

Okay, that was different. It almost sounded as if they went through a portal of some sort. Like a portkey? They touched the portkey and traveled to a different universe? But portkeys weren’t part of Middle Earth, that was Harry Potter. Did they have something similar?

“You’re not in Middle Earth anymore,” you said softly. 

Both brothers stared at you with wide eyes, their beer long forgotten. Kíli looked at his older brother, and pulled at his sleeve.

“What does she mean by that?”

Fíli kept his eyes fixed on your face, searching your features to see if you were lying. If you were trying to prank them. 

“It means that you traveled between different worlds. In my world, where you’re in right now, Middle Earth is fictional. A story. It doesn't exist. Just like my world doesn’t exist where you’re from.” “I don’t believe you,” Kíli said with a frown. 

You had expected this. It’s not like you would’ve believed them if you were in their place. 

“Look around,” you tried to explain, “you can see things you recognize. The furniture, me being a human, … But you can also see things that you don’t understand. They are from this world.”

“You said Middle Earth was a story to you?” Fíli asked you.  “Yes. There are tales about Middle Earth, and Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, the race of Men, … Orcs, wargs, goblins,” you explained, careful not to mention anything about their storyline or the one with the One Ring. “But I’ve never thought it could be real.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, letting it all sink in. 

“How… How do we get back to Middle Earth?” Fili wondered.  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. But I’m going to help you find your way back. We’ll figure something out.” 

You played with your fingers, a telltale sign you were nervous.

“And in the meantime you can stay here... With me.”

A/N: There you go... This is the setup for a possible new multichapter fic if people are interested in it.   Just think of the two brothers in a modern day kitchen and bathroom, how the reader tries to cope with her fictional crush in her home and... how will they get back to Middle Earth? Would you be interested to read that? Let me know!  And of course let me know what you thought of this story :) 

A/N part 2: Sometimes tumblr switches paragraphs for no reason at all, if you notice this happened, send me a message! I’ll try and keep an eye on it myself, but some help is always appreciated.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @artsywaterlily​ @entishramblings​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin1234​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​ @aredhel-of-gondolin​ @leethology​ @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky​

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing​ @sxperncturalimpala67​

#fili x reader #kili x reader #fili and kili #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #hobbit character in modern world #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit oneshot #fili #kili #durin princes

[ilovedainironfoot]

DWARF EDITION :  ( ORI / BIFUR / GLOIN / BALIN / DWALIN / BOFUR / OIN / DAIN / GANDALF ( because i want to / GIMLI )

WHO KNOW HOW TO KNIT ?

none of the gifs are mine

ORI :

-king of knitting

-probably born with sewing needles in his hands

-knitted a sweater at the age of five 

-perfect mastery of all knitting stitches

-The dwarf knitting stitches have no secret for him, so when they arrived in Rivendell, he made it his challenge to learn the elven knitting stitches

-learned all the Hobbit knitting stitches from Bilbo

-when I say Knitting King, I mean that he can make you whole clothes by mixing the knitting techniques of all the cultures of Middle-Earth

-they are works of art, beautiful and complicated

-Throughout the Company's journey he knits them scarves and gloves and everyhting you can think of

BIFUR

-knows how to knit

-but only dwarf techniques

-before the axe he knitted a few times for Bofur and Bombur but mostly simple things like scarves

-during their journe he bcame every curious about Ori and his creativity 

-very quickly Ori and him have fun inventing knitting techniques by the fire 

-Ori teaches him to knit dolls

-Bifur loves making them, so much so that he makes one that looks like Gimli for Gloin, and one that looks like Thrain for Thorin

-after the accident of the barrels and after having lost all their things, Bifur polishes and cuts pieces of wood that he offers to Ori to replace the lost wool needles

GLOIN

-of cours he knows ! He has a wife and a son after all !

-well, he only knows the basic knitting stitches but that is enough

-throughout his wife's pregnancy, and with the help of his brother,  he kept sewing clothes for the future baby because he was so stressed and impatient and happy

-it wasn’t his best work at first but he was really proud and his wife found it adorable

-he still has Gimli’s baby socks that he made for him

-also covered his wife with scarves, small hair and beard accessories, sweater and knitted jacket, to keep her warm and comfortable  during her pregnancy and the first months after delivery 

-is more than grateful to Bifur when he gave him the little knitted Gimli doll ( he tried really hard not to cry )

-would probably have tried to smash Legolas' head and all the other elves present if Legolas had taken his wee lad's baby socks instead of the medallion ( GIVE IT BACK ! IT’S PRIVATE ! )

BALIN

-Is there anything that Grandpa doesn’t know ?

-learned knitting more by necessity than by desire especially when the people of Erebor were in exile

-trying to teach Dwalin to knit gave him half his experience in diplomacy before he was even old enough to negotiate

-just for the joke, he often gives his little brother some wool 

-”I assure you Dwalin that you will love it ! I just ask you to try it!”

-teaching Fili and Kili to knit puts his diplomatic skills and patience to the test ( “Aulë give me strength for this” )

DWALIN

-knows how to knit perfectly but out of pride he hides it from his brother 

-no one will ever discover his secret

-except Bilbo that he threatened 

-helps Bifur to make his knitting dolls when the dwarf has trouble concentrating 

BOFUR

-doesn't know how to knit but that doesn't stop him from doing it 

-he does anything with the wool and he is happy about it

-Ori is often horrified by Bofur's knitting stitches

-is more than happy to see Bifur back to knitting 

-he even tries to create small knitted accessories for the dolls Bifur is making

OIN

-growls all the time that he has to knit something 

-will only make his own scarves, gloves and so on, if he really has no choice and can't buy them 

-more than grateful to Ori for knitting for the entire Company 

-recognizes how good the wee lad is and pays him double

-inherited his grumpiness when Gloin wanted to learn knitting for his future son and although he didn't understand anything, he insisted again and again that Oin show him the stitches

-often wanted to stab his little brother with the knitting needles during this period

-”the next time you talk to me about knitting, brother,  I'll make you swallow your wee lad’s baby sock !”

DAIN IRONFOOT

-knwos how to knit but misses on purpose

-It's been years since the joke goes on but he and Thorin knit the filthiest things to each other 

-and they have to wear it a whole day when they receive the monstruous gift

-yes, even when there is a diplomatic meeting with the elves

-in fact, especially if there is a diplomatic meeting with the elves

-but in reality he knits beautiful scarves and incredible sweaters 

-as for everything he is very demanding and if he has to offer something he has knitted as a gift, it will be made with gold and silver threads

GANDALF

-pretends to not know

-no one knows where all the wool Ori knits during the trip comes from 

-everyone knows that Gandalf gives it to him but they don't understand where the wizard gets it from

-he is amused when Ori wants to teach him and he has to pretend to be a beginner 

GIMLI

-very good at knitting

-”Dad please stop showing people my baby clothings to people. Yes i know you are proud of them, you made them but i swear to Mahal’s beard i will run away if you continue because it’s embarassing.”

-During the Ring Quest he learned the Hobbits techniques from Sam.

-in the little time he has after and before the battles, he knits woolen dolls for the children at Helm's Deep or in Gondor

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #gimli #dain ironfoot #gandalf #gloin #OIN #ori #Balin #dwalin #Bofur #bifur #tolkien dwarves

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Und jetzt erst recht...

I am exhausted today; I cannot hide it. I just wish we could be a little kinder to each other and stop shitting on other people to make our points sound more valid.

And here is how I am coping.

@brglhobbit drew me this lovely picture and I want you to have it!

It has everything: Ori, Thorin, and knitted socks. All kinds of beauty, warmth, love, and cosiness!

Here's to friendship, here's to being an ally, here's to ONE shared reality and ONE shared future, here's to the belief that we can stop discrediting one another out of anger and frustration, here's to letting hurt drain away!

Join me in celebrating beauty in its many forms, in its many facets, colours, genders, sexualities, and shapes!

I give you my crippled little heart beating so strongly for love, loyalty, and the innate strength of doing what you believe is right even if everyone tells you that you'll fail!

Cheers to our survival! Cheers to you! Cheers to dwarven toes and knitted socks!

As much as I want to stop and just return to being bitter and angry all the time because someone made me feel bad, I will NOT relent!

I love you. I love you. I love you.

And I'll love you every step of the way until the sun rises on a better world, because if I cannot do that, why am I even here?

#ori the dwarf #ori #thorin oakenshield #toes #and socks #beauty #ori propaganda #gifts #friendship #warmth #I still believe #I am stronger than the hurt

[inappropriatefangirlwishes]

Navi 2//2               ~~~~~~~~~~~~ HANNIBAL & RAUL ESPARZA ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  hannibal                        hannibal meta              hannibal parallels hannibal fanart               hannibal cosplay          hannibal fun hannibal behind the scenes                                hannibal aesthetic  hannibal fashion clothes costumes                     hannibal set design freddie lounds                 will graham                   francis dolarhyde         peter bernardone  alana bloom                  hannibal lecter             abel gideon    fredragon                      hannigram                    chillywilly frederick chilton            frederick chilton headcanon & imagine yakimono                      antlers                          chilton face 

On other Blogs:  ifn watching hannibal   mine hannibal       mine raul esparza     Hanniwald (Hannibal & Oswald Cobbepot)  

raul esparza                  raul esparza behind the scenes various   raul esparza links           raul esparza fashion raul esparza headcanon & imagine various   raul esparza fanart various   raul esparza aesthetic various   raus esparza aesthetic various     alfredo aldarisio               abel plenkov               nevada ramirez find me guilty tony compagna rafael barba        other law and order characters (that Raul played)     sonny carisi        olivia benson      mariska hargitay riff raff(rocky horror show)        jonas nightingale (leap of faith) the arbiter chess (inkl new one One Night In Bangkok) cabaret emcee            the normal heart          evita (Che)      musical hair                 musical taboo             musical various  

mads mikkelsen      richard armitage       guy of gisborne      thorin hugh dancy  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  M*A*S*H ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ m*a*s*h                          m*a*s*h aesthetic            m*a*s*h meta m*a*s*h group cast        alan alda maxwell klinger              margaret houlihan     sherman potter radar o'reilly                   sidney freedman        trapper john   hawkeye pierce             bj hunnicutt                father francis mulcahy major frank burns          charles emerson winchester                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MAD MAX FURY ROAD  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ mad max fury road        tom hardy mad max meta                mad max behind the scenes nux       slit                      max rockatansky      imperator furiosa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THEMES & THINGS ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ art & literature                   mental illness depression anxiety history & mythology          feminism (&other causes) perfume scent smell         dancing                 crafting diy knitting  drinking                            food eating            tea      language                          swearing stuffed animal plushie      dog    cat    penguin    flamingo    lizard butterfly

scarf                jewelry             glasses sunglasses            gloves shirtless          underwear        suspenders and tie            suit   black shirt       socks                uniform (historic) kink                 blood and bloody       hot damn      bound gagged biting               licking                        tongue          kneeling    neck                kiss                            hand kiss      nails hug hugging gesture           wink                           hands          hair       butt         flowers           magnifying glass         autumn        car       floor       couch             burnt         dork               cutiepie    crossover      omg his face <3           this is amazing! this                twitter                           interview video             audio                            playlist  (& music stuff)       mood relateable      METAish:  humanocentrism    colonialism                                                                                

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ VARIOUS ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pinhead        oscar wilde         hogan's heroes          gotham scorpius       harrison ford      

~ ON OTHER BLOGS ~ (WIP)   Hogans Heroes SCC The mummy, Star Wars, Star Trek, Harrison Ford .....

#ifw #navi #humanocentrism #colonialism #father francis mulcahy #nails #mad max fury road #slit #butterfly #uniform #hug hugging

[kili-of-erebor]

BOLD what applies to your muse.

Remember to REPOST.

Feel free to add to the list.

[ COLOR ]  red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. royal purple. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory. sky blue.

[ ELEMENTAL ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. day. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. smoke. umbra. penumbra. char. darkness. ash.

[ BODY ]  claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches.ears. wounds. burns. spikes. sweat.tears.feline. permanent wounds. chubby. curvy. short. tall. height. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. weak. birdlike. shape shifting. junoesque. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. voluptuous. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish. effeminate. frightening. ethereal. angelic. demonic. metallic. angular. scales. barbs. vertebrae. tendrils. tentacles. sharp. soft. unusual. shapely. unnatural. disproportionate. spindly. monstrous.

[ WEAPONRY ]  fists. swords. daggers. spear. scythe. bow and arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rods. shotguns. needles. prowess. ability. instinct. bloodthirst. supernatural. inhuman. talons. speed. agility. cunning. reflexes. biomech tendrils.

[ MATERIALS ]  gold. silver. platinum.titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. satin. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory. aether crystal. dark matter. lapis lazuli. adamantite. wootz. brass. lamé. guipé. bone. moonstone. metalloids. alloys. ceramic. alabaster. aluminum. bismuth. bronze. polonium. chrome. osmium. sand.

[ NATURE/ENVIRONMENT ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. steppe. rain forest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight. moonlight. darkness. wasteland. void.

[ ANIMALS/CREATURES ] lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. tarantulas. scarabs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs. antelope. chimeras. demons. angels. parakeets. harpy eagles. seagulls. warblers. birds of paradise. parrots. toucans. orioles. cobras. black mambas.

[ FOOD/DRINK ] sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. milk. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. steak. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies. chocolate. tiramisu. cheesecake. sushi. tempura. pasta. garlic. bread. muffins. noodles. cardamom.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. piercing. watercolors. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. murder. fighting. fencing. riding. flying. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. tinkering. video games . computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records . vinyls. cassettes. piano. organ. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar.  bass guitar. harmonica. synthesizers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection. reading. learning. lecturing. teaching. torment. tracking.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eyepatch. collar. bangle. torque. gorget. bracers. cuffs. body jewelry. crop tops.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. landscape. diligence. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. misanthropy. loneliness. anger. family. synthetic. friends. assistants. co-workers. plushies. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. embracing. magitek. futuristic. ancient. science. voidsent. cruelty. trust. mistrust. strength. doubt. reverence. ferocity. danger. automatons. metallic. allure. value. intelligent. revolutionary. defiant. advanced. engines. naïve. temporary. changing. split personality. paradigm shift. freedom. belief.

Tagged by @maul-senpai

Tagging @auvillar @thorin-thrainson @dwarvishprincewalkingarsenal and @more-valued-home

#headcanons #headcanon

[brglhobbit]

There is a hobbit behind the dwarf can you see he is small

#my art #thorin #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #hobbit fanart #Thorin's knit socks #Hugs #brglqueue

[webcricket]

I have a fluffy drabble request if you are still accepting. Snuggling under a blanket when reader gets cold? Thanks!

Woolenbeanie. Knit scarf long enough to give the fourth Doctor a run for his money.Long-sleeved T and two layers of thick flannel shirts raided from Dean’scloset. Thermal leggings and a rolled up pair of Sam’s sweatpants. Two pairs ofultra-fluffy socks. And if he was around, you probably would have stolen thetrench coat off Castiel’s back if you weren’t convinced it was somehow an integrallyattached piece of his vessel.

No,you were not attempting to blend into the testosterone saturated multi-layeredteam free will fraternity. Rather, the bunker was unbearably cold and Dean strangelyrefused, despite your best, most pathetic, and entirely sincere pleas forrelief, to turn the heat up any higher citing the fact that it was very clearlyhotter than Hell in the bunker, and he would know because he’d been there,twice. You knew better than to suggest that Dean remove one or more of his own layersof clothing lest he think you were hitting on him. So, defeated, you fled thelibrary to your room, threatening as you departed to light a fire in the trashbin for heat using the Men of Letter’s irreplaceable and never-ending stockpileof casefiles for fuel. Sam wasn’t sure if you were joking or not.

Shiveringbeneath the thickest blanket you could find in the sundries storage room, youheard a light knocking on your door. “Come in,” you muttered numbly, hoping itwas Sam or Dean come to take pity on your frigid soul and tell you they turnedup the thermostat. Peeking over the fringed edge of the woolen coverlet, you sawthe backlit outline of Castiel observing you from the doorway. “Hey Cas.” Youcould have sworn your breath misted in the cold air.

Seeingmovement beneath the lumpy pile of fabric, he entered the room, huskilymurmuring, “Hello Y/N. Dean suggested I check in to see how you’re feeling.”

“Cold,still cold,” your teeth clattered in answer.

Cascrossed the small space to stand at the side of the bed, peering down at youwith concern clouding his blue gaze, “He thinks you may be getting ill.” Hereached out a palm to press your forehead, “You do seem very cold, but not feverish.What can I do to help?”

Maybeit was the cold numbing your inhibitions, maybe it was the open-ended nature ofhis question, but the words rolled off your tongue of their own volition, “Youcould crawl under this blanket with me to snuggle for warmth.” Feeling a heatedrush of blood redden your cheeks, you congratulated yourself for not making afar more explicit request of the angel.

Ifthe suggestion came as a surprise, he gave no outward indication as he stared calmlyback at you. He shrugged the trench coat off his broad shoulders. The garment,as it turned out to your delight, was not actually a permanently adheredaccessory. His suit coat followed. Then the blue-striped silken tie, loosened andtugged free from his collar with a sharp snapping sound. You heard the soles ofhis shoes kick off beneath the bed. Lifting the blanket, he settled awkwardly andinflexibly beside you. Angling his neck to regard you, he asked, tone waveringuncertainly, “Is this alright?”

Youwanted to answer that it was more than alright – it was downright amazing, butthe fact remained that the only part of you considerably warmer with the decorousdistance between your bodies were your hotly burning cheeks. “Well, uh, snugglingusually involves a little more direct contact,” you blushed, tentativelyshifting and rolling against his body, snaking a hand across his torso. “Likethis.”

Relaxing,he coiled an arm around your shoulders to nestle you to his chest. “Like this?”he echoed your words, eyes seeking yours for approval.

“Exactlylike this,” you sighed into his shirt, basking contentedly in his radiant heat.Warmed to the heart, you drifted into easeful slumber in the embrace of the softly smiling seraph.

Castieltag list:  (Ifyou’d like to be added or removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy  @zeeimpalaangel  @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity  @afanofmanystuffs  @casbabydontgoineedyou  @love-charmer-sketch  @skyethekeks  @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @tacos-and-trenchcoats  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @mycuddlycorner   @stone-met  @gravehumour13  @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @pointlessbow  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx  @narisjournal-blog  @book-loving–anime-chick  @misscherryberry  @moon-and-stars-cas  @tokentransboy  @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @badasssweetsrebel  @xxgoldiethegoldenxx  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @alyssa6marie  @superjunkdrawer  @aditimukul  @calicat79  @feelmyroarrrr  @theedwardscollection  @wehannia  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @eternallyademon  @peculiarlyrene  @lllydg  @noonelikestheo  @idk-fandom  @amionthetumbler  @furiousdonutbarbarian  @chocolategate  @oresalupus  @ladydork

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel fluff #castiel drabble #castiel imagine #castiel x y/n #castielxreader #castiel reader insert #spn fluff #spn drabble #castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #cas x y/n #reader x castiel #fic request #cas fluff #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #cricket writes cas

[reader-rabbit]

Little Thief

A/N: This was a Wattpad request from @bettythedwarfqueen for Ori and some clothes stealing! I had never written Ori before, so this was a fun change of pace for me! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: The reader’s clothes have been going missing, and she’s determined to find the thief.

Word Count: 1369

Warnings: None

You knew you had packed well before you left with Thorin Oakenshield’s company. The journey to Erebor was long, you knew. You had studied the available maps, estimated the staggering day count, and had stuffed your travel pack well. You liked to be prepared. That, coupled with your Took ancestry that made you a sort of cousin to Bilbo Baggins, should have meant that the journey would be pleasant enough.

But as soon as the journey started, some of your things began to disappear. Your best shirt, your spare socks, even the hand-knitted scarf your mother had given you for your last birthday. At first, you suspected the infamously mischievous brothers, Fili and Kili. But they insisted they did not want your socks, or your scarf. Kili had waggled his eyebrows and offered to relieve you of your shirt, only to be smacked on the back of the head by Thorin as he walked past. You resolved never to confront them about their scheming again.

The journey continued, and the mystery only continued. By the time you made it to Beorn’s home in the forest, you were down to your last shirt and your ugliest pair of trousers. Bilbo suggested that perhaps you had lost them on the way; perhaps your pack had a loose strap. You insisted you were not that careless. After a long night of restless sleep, you resolved to find out which of the company members was stealing your clothing.

The day was bright, with those overly-large bees bumbling merrily through the yard. You were in no mood for such happy things. You were properly grumpy, between your missing items and your lack of sleep. You marched across the yard, intending to enlist Gandalf’s help in finding your items, but he was otherwise engaged, facing off with Beorn, who looked even grumpier than you felt.

Grumbling to yourself, you detoured to the kitchen, where the dwarves and Bilbo were already munching away. You studied each dwarf in turn, determined to find guilt in one of their faces. In the end, however, it was not a guilty face that gave it away.

“That’s my scarf!” You shrieked, startling the cows in their stalls in the other room. The dwarves all jumped to attention, some of them even going for their weapons at the sound of your wrath. They sighed in exasperated relief when they saw you were only pointing an accusing finger at the youngest dwarf of their party.

Ori blanched, his hand going absently to his throat, where your birthday gift lay draped around his neck. He protested with unintelligible sounds, but you were too angry to listen.

You marched over to him, yanked the scarf from his neck, and almost walked away before your eyes caught on the socks peeking above his boots at his ankles. “And my socks!” You shouted in dismay. There were stinky dwarf feet wearing your socks… and your trousers. Your eyes trailed up Ori’s body, finding that almost every article of clothing he wore was yours. Except for that oddly-patterned knitted vest, of course.

Your accusing glare landed on his face, which was now redder than his hair. “I’m sorry,” he began, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

You mustered all the dignity of your Took ancestors, straightened your shoulders, and said, “Stop stealing my clothes.”

The silence you thought was menacing burst after a moment. Bofur was laughing. Ori was sniggering into his mug of milk. Nori looked like he was laughing, but no sound was coming from him. Fili and Kili clinked their tankards with pleased grins, and Thorin’s eyes were raised to the sky, as if he begged Mahal to save him from whatever this was.

“It’s not funny!” You protested.

They only laughed harder.

Bilbo took mercy on you, herding both you and Ori out into the courtyard of Beorn’s home. Though a smile was dancing on your cousin’s lips, he managed to suppress it enough to ask, “What is going on here?”

Your Tookish quick temper had risen, and you jumped to answer the question first. “This—this dwarf has been stealing my clothes and wearing them! That’s why I’ve been missing so many things!”

Ori blushed under your stern glare, but Bilbo put a kind hand on his shoulder. “Ori, where did you find these clothes?”

He avoided your gaze, fixing his eyes on his booted feet as he answered, “When Dori did the laundry, he and Nori always brought these clothes back for me, saying someone forgot to pick them up. I had no idea they were yours,” he said, finally turning pleading eyes on you.

Bilbo looked between the two of you briefly, then sighed with forbearance. “You are very close to the same size.”

“Wait,” you said, utterly confused, “I always went to pick up my clothing from Dori when he did the laundry, and it was never there!”

Bilbo looked knowingly at Ori, then stepped away. “I think I will leave you two to discuss this.”

You called after your cousin, only to be thoroughly ignored as he walked away. You crossed your arms, sighed, and looked to Ori for an explanation.

He twisted the end of his sleeve nervously in one hand, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Well,” he began in his soft-spoken voice, “I suppose my brothers knew of my, uh… Well, they gave your clothing to me to tease me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why?”

His face blushed even redder. “They, uh, heard me say you were pretty when we were in the Shire. They knew I… that I liked you… and they must have thought this,” he shrugged with one shoulder, indicating his clothing, “would be funny.”

You blinked once, completely shocked. “You think I’m pretty?”

Ori buried his face in his hands. “Yes,” he mumbled.

This time, your cheeks bloomed with red. “I had no idea,” you said, thinking back on the journey. Ori had always hovered near you, but had never really spoken to you. You had thought he was simply nervous about being in a new land, followed by danger. But you remembered those nights when you found his eyes on you, brightened by the firelight, and had dismissed it. His offers of assistance during various parts of the journey. His kind smile, his quiet laughter when you tried to crack a joke.

“Oh,” you breathed, startled by the revelation. You supposed it had been there all along, but you had simply not seen it. You stumbled away from Ori, seeking solitude to sort out your thoughts. You ignored his voice calling your name as you found a garden shed and closed yourself in it.

Ori had feelings for you? The thought was baffling. Shocking.

But it was also… nice.

You spent hours in that shed, ignoring the sounds from outside of the company preparing to leave Beorn’s home. You needed the time to decide how you felt about the new discovery, and time to calm down. Your Tookish temper had shot off like a firework, and you regretted it now. Ori didn’t deserve your ill words, even though you hadn’t known it at the time. You were just resolving to apologize to him when a gentle knocking at the shed door roused you from your thoughts.

You opened the door to find Ori standing there, holding a stack of clothing that rose to his chin. He smiled gently, and you found yourself smiling back.

“These are your things,” he said, his cheeks faintly rosy as he offered the stack to you. You took it from him, only to find something that was certainly not yours at the top of the stack.

“What is this?” You asked, holding up the knitted vest.

“Um, it’s a, uh, vest. I knitted a vest. For you.”

Touched by the gesture, you leaned over the stack of laundry and kissed Ori’s cheek. “Thank you,” you said. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have been so angry. You’re not a thief, and I should have known that.”

Ori simply beamed, his smile almost brighter than the sunshine streaming behind him. “No trouble,” he mumbled, starry eyes on you. “It’s no trouble at all.”

#fanfiction #ori x reader #reader insert #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #ori #bilbo baggins #hobbit!reader #my fanfiction #fanfic fodder #i would have followed queue

[brglhobbit]

#my art #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin #Thorin's knit socks #the hobbit #hobbit fanart

[brglhobbit]

nap time

#my art #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin #Thorin's knit socks #the hobbit #hobbit fanart