#let's pretend kili's a horse whisperer for this one— | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

middleearthpixie · 3 years

Text

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Thirteen

Summary: The Company seeks aid from Beorn and Seren finds herself jealous of Bilbo, even as she insists to Thorin they must keep their distance from one another. Oh, and spiders. Big. Evil. Spiders.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Seren (female OC, formerly of Dale)

Characters: The Company, Gandalf, the Spiders of Mirkwood

Rating: T

Warnings: Some battle violence, creepy spiders, and cocoons

Word Count: 2,266

Additional Information: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

@tschrist1 - I hope you are having a nice weekend...

Everything in the barn was far bigger than all of them save for Gandalf, but he assured them they were safe there and that the bear who had chased them all into said barn would help them. A skin-changer, Gandalf described him. A fellow named Beorn. They were to sleep in the barn for the night and come morning, Gandalf would carefully (and he emphasized the word carefully) introduce them. And it had to be done carefully (again, he emphasized carefully) for apparently Beorn was none too fond of dwarves.

Wonderful.

But that didn’t stop others from falling asleep. She was the only awake body, as sleep mocked her. It didn’t help that she could hear the faint cries of wargs, which seemed to be growing closer at a fairly steady pace.

Even Thorin slept, which didn’t surprise her. His had been the roughest of days and as she gazed across the barn at where he lay nestled in a pile of hay, all she could think about was how he sought out Bilbo. If she’d been the one to slay the orc, he’d have looked for her, but no. She was useless dangling from a burning, listing tree instead.

She was being silly and childish and she knew it, but she wanted only to stretch out beside Thorin, to let him rest his head in her lap, and stroke his hair. Which was equally silly and childish.

Coming after him had been a terrible idea. She hadn’t stopped to think what would happen once she found him and really hadn’t thought about what being part of this company would mean for her, either.

She gave up trying to sleep and stood up, carefully picking her way around the sleeping dwarves, toward the rear of the barn. There, she climbed up onto the edge of a stall and peered out the small window that overlooked a beautiful lake and from her vantage point, the moon’s light cut a silver swath across the middle and the rippling water reminded her of sparkling diamonds against a bed of silver and black velvet.

“Having trouble sleeping?”

She nearly leapt from her skin at Thorin’s unexpected whisper and she spun about to glare at him. “Must you sneak up on me?”

“I apologize,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you. What can you see?”

She turned back toward the window. “There’s a lake out behind this barn. And the moon shines across it.”

“It sounds peaceful.”

“It looks peaceful.” With a sigh, she eased down from the side of the stall and leaned against it instead. “I’m surprised you’re awake. You look… exhausted.”

A rueful smile came to his lips as he reached up to touch the ugly-looking cut across his nose. “I’ve had better days.”

Her throat tightened and her belly did a strange flip as she gazed up at him. In addition to the cut, his right cheek bore a large bruise, and the left side of his forehead sported a smaller one. There were also nearly half a dozen smaller scrapes along his left cheek and jawline. Without thinking, she reached up and brushed his hair away from his face. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

“As did I. Thank the maker for Master Baggins.”

“Exactly.”

“And what about you?” He caught her by the hands to turn hers palm up. They were red and scraped from the pine tree’s branch and trunk. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I was a little surprised when the eagle caught me, because I was certain I was going to splat against the mountainside, but I’m fine otherwise.”

“Good.”

He made no move to release her hands, and instead, his thumbs moved lightly over her palms to send a rush of tingles up both arms. Part of her wanted to pull away, but it was far weaker than the side that wished him to keep touching her.

A soft snore rose from Bilbo, who slept in the far corner, curled up with two goats. She looked up back up at Thorin. “I think your burglar has a crush on you, Mr. Oakenshield. When you hugged him, he lit up like the sun.”

Thorin peered over his shoulder at the hobbit. “I think perhaps you’ve read a bit much into his reaction, Seren.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think so. You should be careful where he is concerned.”

“Careful?” He turned back to her. “My interests lie not with other men.”

“Well, I know that, but he doesn’t. So you need to take care. Don’t hurt him.”

“How could I hurt him?”

“You could let him think there is more to your feelings toward him than camaraderie.”

He let out a soft sigh, and when his gaze met hers, she actually felt it. “I could tell him another has claimed my heart.”

“Thorin…” She shook her head slowly. “Please, don’t…”

“Don’t what?” He stepped closer, out of the moonlight and into the darkness. His eyes glittered pale blue as he backed her up against the stall’s wall. “Perhaps I made a mistake, Seren.”

“You have to finish what you’ve set out to do,” she told him softly, flattening one hand in the middle of his chest to halt him.

For all the good it did, as he closed the space between them, his lips hovering by a fraction of an inch above hers. “I will. But—“

“No. No but.”

He bent toward her, his lips brushed hers softly. Her eyes closed as he swept those lips along her jaw, as he nuzzled her gently, sliding an arm about her waist. Her hand came to rest on his upper arm, his biceps like granite beneath his dark blue tunic. Her eyes closed, her head lolling back until it came to rest against the wall with the softest of thuds.

Heat coursed through her, delicious and teasing, and she wanted only to melt against him, to pull him down into the sweet-smelling hay and let whatever happened, happen.

But they were not alone and nothing had changed.

Her eyes opened as she pushed him away. “We cannot do this. We agreed, last evening was a beautiful thing, but now, reality intrudes and—”

“And I don’t think I can stay away from you,” he confessed, catching her face in his hands, his thumbs skimming along her cheekbones. “And I don’t think I wish to, either.”

“Thorin, you must.”

“Seren.”

“No.” She pulled free again. “We need to go back to how we were, or else I need to leave, because I will not be the reason why your quest fails.”

“Seren.”

“I mean it, Thorin. You need to leave me be.” She stepped to the side to move around him. “Perhaps I should just leave. Everyone would be fine without me.”

“There is an orc pack in those woods, Seren. You wouldn’t survive to their edge.” He came up behind her, easing his arms about her waist. “You will stay with us and when this is over, we see what we have here.”

As he spoke, he lifted one hand to catch her braid and moved it to let it fall over her left shoulder. Her eyes closed at the first sweep of his lips against the side of her neck. For a moment, she savored the sensations he sent running rampant through her, and wondered if he had any idea of the havoc he wrought upon a woman’s senses. No one would ever believe it possible for him to be this gentle, this tender, as he was right then, and she wished with everything she had she could change for him, that she could give herself to him and hope for a future.

But she couldn’t and that wasn’t going to change.

One of the other dwarves stirred and murmured, “Thorin? Is something wrong?”

Thorin straightened, his arms falling away from her as he stepped around her and said, “Everything is fine, Ori. Go back to sleep. Morning will be here before you know it.”

He glanced back at her. “You should get some sleep as well, Seren. You look exhausted.”

“I will.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t. Her heart hurt far too much for her to pretend otherwise and no one had ever warned her just how much it could hurt, to want something so badly that she knew she could never have. “Good night, Thorin.”

He walked away without looking back. “Good night, Seren.”

***

Gandalf woke them at dawn and warned them that he would introduce them one or two at a time to Beorn, then took Bilbo with him as he went out to prepare Beorn for the houseguests he didn’t know he had.

Seren held her breath as she, Fili, and Kili emerged from the barn at the same time, after Beorn had already been gobsmacked by the wizard’s hiding twelve dwarves, a hobbit, and a boy in his barn.

As for Seren, she hoped Gandalf knew what he was doing, for Beorn was at least ten feet tall and hugely muscled. He also was, as he said, none too fond of dwarves. He glared at the Company as he growled, “Is this all?”

Thorin stepped out of the barn then, arms folded, and leaned against a post to stare down their host. Gandalf quickly explained their story, and over breakfast, Beorn agreed to help them out. He offered ponies and supplies and warned them of the dangers to be found in Mirkwood, their next destination. After that, came Lake-town and finally, Erebor. They were almost there.

Some time later, the Company, astride beautiful ponies with flowing white manes, were on their way to Mirkwood and as they reached it, and climbed down from their saddles, Gandalf said, “Set the ponies free and back to their master.”

Nori moved to set Gandalf’s horse free as well, only to have Gandalf stop him. “No, not that one. I’ll need him.”

Thorin looked up at him. “You’re leaving?”

“You will be fine and I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.” Gandalf swung up into his saddle. “You need only remember to be on your guard and stay on the path. Do not under any circumstances, venture from it.”

And with that, he was off, leaving Thorin staring at him in disgust as he said, “Well, come on then.”

Bilbo shook his head. “These woods feel sick.”

“Just stick to the path and we will be fine.” Thorin looked over at her. “Let’s go, Seren.”

“I’m coming.” She brushed by him, and hurried to catch up to Bofur. “Where are we even going?”

He glanced down. “To Laketown, I suppose. It must be on the far side of these woods.”

She looked around. They were the most confusing woods she’d ever encountered. The trees looked half-dead, with vines wrapping all about their trunks, stretching like tentacles across the leaf-and-debris strewn forest floor. Bilbo was right. These woods did feel sick. Sickness. Death. Dismay. Doom. They all lay heavy in the air, like cheap perfumes wore by women with loose morals, as Mama liked to say.

Even the air felt odd. It left her feeling dizzy, a bit disoriented. More than once, she stumbled over an exposed tree root or vine, or sometimes nothing at all—it was if the forest itself grabbed her foot—and caught Bofur. Then he tripped, grabbed her, and pulled her down to the floor atop him.

She lay there for a long minute, her thoughts a tangled up ball of knots as she tried to remember where they were. Tried to remember why they were there. But it all clouded in her brain and she stared down at Bombur as if she had never seen him before. “Why are you holding me?”

“You’re holding me.”

A hand snagged in the back of her tunic and roughly tugged her off him and Thorin said, “Enough. I thought you wished your secret kept.”

“My what?” She stared up at him. His eyes seemed far bluer than usual. Her gaze fell to the pulse beating in his neck, to the scruff that was the beginning of his beard, and then she reached for him. Grabbed his shirtsleeve as the others stumbled along ahead of them. She rose onto her toes and as gently as she knew how, bit the side of his neck.

He jumped back. “What the deuce?”

“You didn’t mind that the other night.”

“There weren’t thirteen other people within eyesight of us, either.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you about?”

“I—I don’t know.” Dizziness washed over her. She felt drunk, reckless, not herself. She wanted to grab him and pull him down, but at the same time, was afraid she’d be sick if she did. Her head spun. Her eyes wanted only to close. She stumbled again.

Thorin caught her. “Take care, Seren.”

“I—I don’t feel well,” she muttered.

He stopped then, and growled, “Everyone, stop.”

The Company did, all staring up at him as Balin said, “What is it?”

He let go of Seren, who stumbled into Dwalin, who said, “Where even are we?”

“Quiet,” Thorin whispered. “We’re being watched.”

Seren righted herself. “What?”

As if having been given a signal, spiders dropped from all around them. Seren screamed involuntarily as something grabbed her from behind and a moment later, she could barely breathe or see and she fought down her rising panic as she realized she was being wrapped in a thick, sticky cocoon.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU

6 notes · View notes

soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Note

*not sure how this works, but here goes...* Imagine meeting the company in Bag End, but they don't know you're mute. There's question as to whether or not you should even come on the quest because you don't even have a sign language in the Shire (how will you signal any trouble, call for help, etc). You have some skill throwing knives and can whistle quite loud. There's debate amongst the company about teaching you the secret dwarven sign language (objections being from the older members mainly)

OH MY GOD THIS IS MY 100TH CHAPTER (on ao3)!! Should I do something special for it?

Also for this one I kinda just imagined Tinkerbell (Peter Pan) when writing the reader? Idk. Tinkerbell is quiet, feisty, clever, and like, the best? So I used her for inspiration.

---

You weren't born like this.

For the first few years of your life you could speak, scream, cry, whisper, and make usual noises like every other child.

You were not a disliked child whatsoever, but you were always quite small, small even for a hobbit, and were also considered rather odd. The other kids considered you odd because you didn't like to play the games children usually liked playing, nor were you particularly good with conversing with others. Other children made you nervous, so you avoided them.

Unfortunately, they took your avoidance for you being stuck-up and mean, so they often liked to pick on you and torment you for things. The fact that your older brother Bilbo would always stick up for you didn't help this fact either.

It happened when you were 8; the incident that lost you your voice.

Some of the other Shire children were being mean to you as usual, throwing things and running after you when you tried to get away, and they chased you up a tree. They were armed with branches, rocks, and various other 'weapons' which you didn't much like being hit with, and so you raced up a tree and hid from them in the high branches to wait them out.

You tried to call for help several times, but you were too far away for any adults to hear your cries, and at one point one of the children nailed you right in the head with stick.

You fell from the tree screaming, and when you hit the ground, you never made another noise again.

The fall damaged your larynx, and while you can still do things like hum, cough, and make some simpler noises, you cannot laugh, speak, or even whisper.

That may sound horrible, but you actually got lucky all things considered, since many larynx fractures and damages can be life-threatening.

Suffice to say nobody messed with you after that, though it's very sad that it took a life altering injury to stop your torment.

You have long since given up your anger and hate for what happened to you that day, though sometimes you do feel a great deal of frustration for not being able to voice your thoughts or outright tell people what you mean or need.

With all the negatives that come with being mute, however, come some positives as well.

For example, you are a master of silence and stealth in your own right, you're an excellent listener (not that you can reply anyways), you've made good on plenty of other talents like writing and cooking with your brother to name some, you've got excellent aim, and your patience and charades skills are unrivaled.

So when Gandalf the Grey comes about one lovely morning and proposes an adventure for you and your brother, suffice to say you were overjoyed to finally do something.

The first meeting with those rowdy dwarfs was a doozy, and you got lots of questions about why you wouldn't speak, though, clearly, you couldn't answer them.

When Gandalf announced that you and Bilbo would be coming along there was a lot of apprehension, and not just because you're mute either.

Bilbo is, quite literally, the softest and least durable hobbit in the entirety of the Shire; and mix that with a verbally challenged hobbit as well?

Suffice to say there was a lot of protest, but Gandalf shut it all down without hesitation and demanded that the two of you be welcomed onto the trip and treated fairly.

Bilbo didn't want to go, and at some point he passed out and a bunch of things happened, but you made up your mind and let Gandalf know that you would do it with or without Bilbo.

He can't look after you forever, after-all.

You were as silent as usual that next morning while everyone traveled, joked, and placed bets on whether or not Bilbo would show up, but you were fairly certain that he would arrive eventually - so you didn't worry much about it.

Some of the dwarfs tried to make small talk with you while you rode along with them, and though they knew you couldn't verbally respond, you still did your best to act out what you wanted to say; that, or you let your facial expression do the talking for you.

It seemed that you could get your point across pretty well too, either that or they were sparing your feelings and pretending to understand, because they give an appropriate response to you each time.

Bilbo did, ultimately, show up at some point, and from there the journey really began.

---

Your inability to speak really does make things a lot harder a lot of the time, but you usually manage to push through.

No matter what weaknesses you have because you've spent so much of your life in silence, the strengths always shine through in the end.

This is one of those times.

Fili and Kili managed to lose track of some of the horses and stumble upon three trolls, and then they had the bright idea to send in you and your brother to retrieve them!

Obviously you both did it, but unfortunately Bilbo got caught and all the dwarfs came out and began to fight the trolls with everything they have. It wasn't enough, though, for soon they are all bagged and piled up.

You got lucky and managed to hide in a nearby bush, and while you know for a fact that you can't take on three trolls by yourself, you can certainly find a way to release the poor. frightened ponies.

Eventually, once the trolls are completely distracted by other things, you creep out from beneath the bush and army man crawl towards the little pen they made.

The forgotten weapon lay there on the ground next to the gate, and without hesitation you pick it up and start to saw away at the rope holding it shut.

Like usual you manage to go by unnoticed up to the end, and once the rope is cut, you open up the gate and watch as the ponies rush away at top speed.

"Oi!" One of the trolls yell when it notices the fleeing ponies, taking a few quick steps in their general direction before another one of the trolls tells him to forget about it since they've got something better.

"But how did they get out?" The same troll asks suspiciously, looking over in your direction.

When he turns towards you, you dive to the ground and hide behind one of the supporting pillars of the gate, squeezing your eyes shut while your heart hammers in your chest when loud footsteps approach.

Even though you know he can't hear you, you still find yourself holding your breath and awaiting his descent upon you.

Only it never comes.

"Huh..." The troll grunts, then turns and rejoins his troll friends around the slow roasting dwarves they've tied above their fire.

You slowly poke your head up and look at the backs of the trolls who are gathered around the fire, then you glance over at the pile of dwarfs and meet Thorin's gaze from across the way.

Slowly you bring up your hand and point at yourself, then point at him and make an untying motion with your hands.

He glances at the busy trolls, then down at the dwarfs by his feet before looking over at you again and slowly nodding his head.

As soon as you get confirmation you drop back low to the ground and carefully pick your way through the underbrush and manage to avoid crunching or snapping any dead leaves and sticks that may be in your way.

Eventually, you manage to sneak your way over to the rock just above Thorin, and once you're sure none of the trolls are looking in your direction, you slide down it and land right next to him.

He looks at you and whispers, "As quiet as a mouse, as always."

With slightly shaky hands, you begin to try and undo the ties keeping him contained in the sack, but it seems that the knot is rather sturdy since you can't get your fingers into any of the holes in the rope.

You tug on it a bit and furrow your eyebrows in frustration, going in to pick at it some more before he whispers again, "They're looking this way, hide!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth you drop to the floor and roll over so you're hiding behind the stack o' dwarfs and fit yourself between Thorin and Balin's legs, reaching up discreetly to begin working at the knot entrapping Gloin.

It's around this time that you hear Bilbo begin to speak and try to convince the trolls to let them go, though his logic doesn't do much, so you start to work faster

You're so engrossed on freeing him that you don't notice the loud and large footsteps coming back towards you, and it's not until you hear, "What's all this then?" that you realize you've made a mistake.

It's unfortunate too, cause you just managed to get Gloin free from his bindings.

The back of your shirt is lifted suddenly, and then you're in the air next while the dwarfs you were trying to free start to yell and freak out, and Bilbo cries your name in a panic.

You flail your arms and kick your legs, swinging your fists and beating on the hand holding you by your shirt while you mouth silent curses at the troll.

"What's this? Another hobbit?" The troll asks, lifting you up to eye level so he can see you more clearly.

You lash out and hit it right in it's big ugly nose, feeling a moment of triumph when it yelps and reaches up with it's other hand to rub it's abused nose. When that works, you start to beat on it's stupid face more, but before you can get in much more it pulls you away from it's face and starts to shake you back and fourth quickly.

Troll uses earthquake; it is very effective.

In seconds you're in a daze and left dizzy when it stops shaking you back and fourth.

"Well now what? Can we eats that too?" The one with the lower pitched voice asks, looking at the other two while it resumes its turning of the dwarfs hovering over the fire.

"Of course we can! Go get another bag." The higher pitched one holding you states, dropping you onto the ground from up high.

When you hit the ground with a silent 'oof' you smack your head and the dizziness increases, but you still hear Gandalf's booming voice and the yelling of the trolls as they turn to stone when the light hits their skin.

Slowly you push yourself up to your hands and knees and press a hand to your aching head, whining softly when the throbbing gets worse as you move.

"Y/N!" Bilbo calls from behind you , worry clear in his voice.

The sound of his voice snaps you out of your stupor, so you hurriedly get to your feet and scramble over to him with slightly wobbly steps, immediately going to the knot holding him in the sack and cutting him loose.

Once he's freed, he reaches up and moves your head out of your face to check for any injuries, and when he sees none he sighs in relief. "You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"

You shake your head no, then point over at the still trapped dwarfs, Gloin being the only one free at the moment while he tries to free Bombur from his prison.

He seems to understand your point right away and nods his head, walking over to them so he can release them.

You look around the camp for a moment while Gandalf rejoins you all and grab one of the heavy discarded swords, bringing it over to Gandalf then pointing at the few suspended in air and no doubt roasting hot in their position.

The elderly wizard smiles at you kindly and accepts the blade, immediately going over to cut loose those still stuck.

When you turn back around almost everyone is freed, and you find an unconscious smile spreading across your face when you see that they're all okay.

Bilbo bounds over to you as soon as he's done freeing them, though not before getting some praise for his quick thinking and distraction that saved Bombur's life and gave Gandalf more time to free them, and when you overhear their praise of him your smile broadens.

"But of course, Y/N provided an excellent distraction as well. Gave the young one a good beating." Thorin muses while he dusts off his coat and trousers, looking at you with a pleased expression on his face.

You can feel your face heating up slightly at the compliment, but your smile remains and you nod your head eagerly in thanks.

"Though, I suppose your job would be a fair bit easier if we could properly communicate with you..." He adds slowly, reaching up to stroke his beard lightly.

Your joy deflates at that, and right away your smile is replaced with a pout.

There is no unspoken form of the language you once spoke, for if there was, you would've learned it a long time ago. Of course you can write well, but there's no time to write what you're thinking in the middle of a conflict.

Bilbo sighs and shakes his head, "There is no other language for her to speak. I have no knowledge of any other signed languages, unfortunately."

A few moments of silence pass on by before Bofur hesitantly suggests, "We could teacher her some iglishmêk."

As soon as the words leave his mouth there is some protesting from Balin, Oin, and a few others, them saying things like, "only dwarfs can speak iglishmêk," "that's a horrible idea," and, "that's against our customs!"

Bofur shrinks under the scolding and yelling of the older members of the company, but Thorin, surprisingly, says nothing.

Kili comes to Bofur's rescue, thankfully for him, and states, "Well we need to communicate somehow! I think it's a good idea. We all know it, and I think it would be beneficial to the group."

HIs brother nods in agreement as well as some of the other younger dwarfs, meanwhile you, Bilbo, and Gandalf kinda just sit back and watch them argue it out for a few moments.

It's not until something catches you eye that you leave the arguing, and once you catch sight of that odd glimmer from somewhere off to the right you follow it.

Nobody notices you slip away as per usual, but no matter, for you've just found a lovely gold coin.

Right before you turn to go show everyone, you see another, and then another, all the way leading to a big hole in the ground.

You can tell it has a strong stench even from your spot above it, but your curiosity gets the best of you so you venture cautiously into the small tunnel and see various things inside. There's some bones, more gold, a whole bunch of weapons, some random trinkets and horse saddles, and, like mentioned before, an awful smell.

"Where did Y/N go?" You hear someone ask loudly suddenly, and right away you remember that you shouldn't go wandering off alone.

You crawl back out of the slippery slope and pop your head up out of the ground, seeing everyone looking around frantically for you. Since you can't yell for them, you take one of the gold coins you collected and chuck it at them, hitting Thorin in the back with it.

He turns and sees you, and right away his shoulders relax and he calls, "There you are! Why are you all the way over there?"

You gesture for them to come over with a 'come here' wave of your hand, then walk out of the cave completely and point at the hole in the ground when they come over.

A few of them go in, but you stay outside with Bilbo this time and look at the handful of coins you collected from inside there.

Bilbo looks at them over your shoulder and states, "As far as I'm concerned, you have first claim over everything in that tunnel."

You look up at him with a big smile on your face and laugh soundlessly, shaking your head at his words. You only found it after all, that's nothing too special or hard, and it was the gleam of a coin that caught your attention anyways.

To show him this, you lift up one of the coins and shrug your shoulders, then point back down at the cave and shrug again.

"I know you think it was nothing, but you always manage to find and do things that later help us out. You're by far the best of us."

You pout at that and shake your head in disagreement, putting the handful of coins into your pocket so you can cross your arms over your chest.

"Don't you look at me like that. You know I'm right." A smile creeps onto his face while the two of you jokingly argue back and fourth, for he's missed this wordless banter (on your part) between the two of of you. "Just take a compliment for once, won't you?"

A little longer do you stare at him, but when he doesn't waver or relent, you sigh and nod your head.

"You seem to understand those gestures and facial expressions really well." Balin comments from off to the side, smiling at the two of you with that same old sweet and cheery expression on his face. "It's like you know what Y/N is thinking."

"Well to some extent, I do. We're siblings after all, and we've been around each other since even before the silence came about." Bilbo explains, putting an arm around your shoulders in a very brotherly manner.

You nod your head in agreement and look over at Balin with a smile of your own. Honestly, you don't know where you'd be if you didn't have someone like Bilbo to understand you.

A moment of silence passes by where you all just look at each other before Balin's smile lessens and he sighs, "Maybe we should teach you iglishmêk..."

That certainly makes you brighten up.

Oh how you crave the ability to properly communicate with others, so if they teach you and Bilbo this secret sign-language then you'll be able to properly talk to him for once, to talk to them too.

You get up and walk over to Balin, kissing his rosy cheek lightly while the smile on your face remains just as vibrant and happy as before.

Oh, you hope that they will.

#request #asks #answer #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company x reader #mute!reader #reader insert #reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #balin #fili #kili #dwalin #bofur #the hobbit fanfiction

531 notes · View notes

ruthoakenshield · 4 years

Text

Thorin and the Gem Carver (part 2)

Thorin and the Gem Carver (Part 1)

Jade ran as fast as she could for the nearest hiding place in the shadows. “Why would a king want to talk with me?” she kept asking herself. “And why would he send such a big, burly dwarf to get me?” she pondered.

She stood stock still in the shadows and saw him come out and look around. Jade slunk further into the shadows. She watched as the big, bald, burly dwarf motioned to the other two to split up and search the area. She stayed put as she watched them split up and head in opposite directions.

She stayed where she was. Afraid of being seen. She was in an alleyway across and slightly to the left of the tavern. She leaned against the wall of the building and tried to calm her racing heart.

She kept an eye on the door of the tavern and gasped when she saw the other two dwarves come out and look around. The one with dark hair had a worried expression. The other one with the white hair looked across the road and spotted a glint of something. He pretended not to notice and then convinced the other dwarf to go the opposite direction the other three had gone.

He waited until the dark haired dwarf was gone and then casually walked to the other side of the street. He stopped near the alleyway’s entrance and leaned against the building. Jade watched as he pulled out a pipe and proceeded to pack it with pipeweed and light it.

“You can come out of hiding, lass. I won’t hurt you.” he quietly says. You stay where you are and don’t move. “Why does the king wish to see me? I am nothing to him. What is it he wants from me?” you say in almost a whisper.

Balin chuckles. “The king received word from King Theoden, asking him to keep you safe. He told my King how your presence blessed his kingdom and brightened the lives of his court and how his niece and nephew think of you as their adopted sister. He sent this sapphire to my King to show him your skill at carving gems and asked my King to consider allowing you into his gemcarving guild as a master gemcarver.” Balin explains as he holds the sapphire into the light.

“You did a marvelous job carving Rohan’s horses into it my dear. There are few left in Erebor who can match this detail and skill. Especially on such a small stone.” Balin praised you.

“Rohan had few gems. Theoden gave it to me and asked me to carve something on it for his niece for her birthday last year.” you said. “I hope it is returned to her soon.” you tell him.

“I’ll tell you what, lass, why don’t you come with me and lets sit and talk. Tell me why you are so skittish around us.” he suggests.

“I will show you if you come into the shadow. For i do not wish others to see it.” you tell him.

He looks around and doesn’t see Thorin or the rest of their group so he carefully slides into the alleyway and slowly approaches you. You step further into the alley and then stop. Balin comes a little further into the alley but stops when he sees you begin to retreat. He holds up his hands and says, “Lass, I am unarmed. I will not hurt you.”

You look at him for a moment then reach up and unhook the hair clip and let your hood down. His eyes get wide when he sees your white hair. You drop your head and reach up to unhook the clasp. You turn so your back is to him and drop the cloak. You hear his intake of breath and turn to face him. He is standing there staring at you with a very big smile.

You drop your gaze and bend to pick up your cloak but he quickly steps up to you and says, “Allow me.” as he reaches out and gently touches your arm.

You freeze and allow him to pick up you cloak. He looks up at you and then asks, “My dear, what is it that you wished to show me that you are so skittish about?” You look at him blinking for a moment then look around. There is a spot off to your left where the sunlight is hitting the ground. you walk over to it and pull your hair around so it hangs off your shoulders. You take a deep breath and step into the light.

Balin walks over to you and once he sees you step into the light, he understands why you are so embarassed. “Lass, how did your lovely white hair get the lovely blue color?” he asks as he walks up to you. “Turn and let me see the back again.” he says. You pull your hair so it hangs back over your shoulder and you slowly turn again. He chuckles. “It looks so beautiful, like a lovely waterfall. Why are you ashamed of it?” he asks as he takes your arm and turns you to face him.

You lower your gaze and stare at the ground. “The woman who did it did so out of envy and spite. As she held my braid into the vat of dye she chanted something and I felt magic entering me. I do not know what it was she did to me nor why she did it. The color will not wash out no matter what I try, and i feel shame at my beautiful white hair being defaced with the color.

My aunt wished to cut it, but Lady Galadrial told me Mahal gave me this white hair at birth for a reason. She said she could not tell me why, but she told me I am never to cut my hair short. I may trim off the split ends, but never cut it short.” you explain to dwalin.

He chuckles. “Ahh, lass, I understand now. Do not be ashamed of the color in it. It makes you unique and one of a kind, as does your white hair for your age. Mine, turned white with age, but yours is lovely. Think of yourself as a rare gem. The right people will see you as the beauty that you are and appreciate and love it, the others who don’t are not worth your time and they will pass you by. Those, like the woman who colored your hair, are most likely jealous of you and your uniqueness and do not know how to handle those feelings. That is probably why she attacked you and tried to shame you like this.” he said as he held you hands.

“When my uncle said we were moving to Erebor, I was afraid. I did not know how the dwarves would see me and treat me. I feel like a freak of nature, something to stare at like a caged beast.” you tell him as a few tears trickle down your cheek. “He has other plans for me besides being a gemcarver, and I do not wish for what he has planned, at least not in the way he intends to go about doing so.”

Balin reaches up and dries your tears. “What is your name, sweetheart?” he asks you. “Jade.” you tell him. “Will you walk with me back to Erebor?” he asks. You look at him and he chuckles. “Aaahh, I see you have lovely green eyes to match your name.” he grins. “Do not worry, lass, you and your aunt and uncle will be treated well in Erebor. The king will make sure of it. He would not wish to insult or ruin the alliance between us and Rohan.” he tells you.

“Come, walk with this old dwarf back to the Mountain and we can talk, and you can tell me of yourself.” he says, giving you a kind smile. He holds out your cloak and you let him put it over your shoulders, as you keep your head bowed. He hooks the clasp at your throat when you hear someone clearing their throat.

You both look up to see Kili standing there mouth agape. You quickly drop your gaze. “Jade? Is that you?” he asks. You look up and he begins to walk closer, excited to see you. You take a few steps back. He stops and looks hurt and confused. “Jade, what’s the matter? You know I won’t hurt you.” he says quietly.

“I’m sorry, I - I - i just can’t. I’m sorry master, dwarf. I must go find my family.” and you turn and take off running down the alley and into the darkness.

Balin sighs, “I don’t understand why she is so skittish. What is it she fears?”

Kili shakes his head. “She can not still be traumatized by that orc attack.” He says quietly.

Balin turns, “What do you mean, Laddie?” Kili tells him about the caravan they had been ushering back to the Blue Mountains years ago and how you and your father had joined them the day before on your way back from Rivendell. He explained how the orcs attacked and your father died defending you as Fili and himself protected you from the orcs in front of you. and how they brought you home and you cried the whole way there. He told Balin that they stayed with you for two days until your uncle and aunt came and took you back to Rohan.

Balin and Kili stepped back into the sunshine on the street as they talked and walked back to the main gate to try to find Thorin and Dwalin and Fili.

“Ahhh, so THAT’s how she ended up in Rohan.” Balin says, stroking his beard. “I wondered what happened to her parents.”

“I don’t know what happened to her mother, “ Kili says quietly. “we never saw her and assumed she was also dead.” he explained.

“I still don’t see why she is so skittish to meet Thorin and come back to the mountain with us.” Balin says. “We need to talk with her Aunt and Uncle once they arrive in Erebor.” he tells Kili.

As they round the corner, Balin spots Dwalin, Thorin and Fili. They walk over and join them. “Did you find her?” Thorin asks.

“Aye, we found her. I was able to talk to her briefly. The attack she suffered in Rohan was to her hair, Thorin. She has beautiful white hair...whiter than mine... and it reaches down to the ground. But a vindictive woman took her braid and pulled it into a vat of blue dye and she chanted some kind of magic over the lass. Now the dye will not wash out. It has colored the bottom of her hair deep blue. Almost a Durin Blue color which fades as it goes up to her shoulders from there up, her hair is a beautiful white. White as the moonlight.” Balin tells them.

“Aye, it’s true!” Kili says excitedly. “Fi, remember the lass and her father that joined the caravan back to the Blue Mountains? The one that got attacked by the orcs and killed several of the merchants many years ago?” Fili pushes himself off the wall suddenly excited. “Yeah, I remember it. Wasn’t there a lass with white hair, the one we flirted with the entire afternoon?” he asked. “Yeah! Her father died trying to protect her from the back when an orc attacked. Remember, she cried the whole way back to the Blue Mountains!” Kili reminded Fili. “Oh, Yeah, She rode with you on the pony the whole way back.” Fili said.

Thorin and Dwalin looked surprised. “So why didn’t you bring her with you, Kili? If you knew her and she knew you, surely she would feel safe with you if she let you comfort her on the trip back to the Blue Mountains?” Thorin asked.

“I don’t know uncle. She seemed to remember me, but like Balin and Dwalin said, she has become skittish. Something has scared her and she doesn’t seem to trust anyone. She let Balin see her hair, though and let him put her cloak back around her shoulders, so maybe she trusts him?” Kili suggested as they looked at Balin.

He just chuckled and replied, “Must be the hair.” They all grinned. “So where did she go, then?” Dwalin said as he rubbed his chin. “She said something about finding her family. I had asked her to walk with me back to Erebor so we could talk more, which she seemed willing to do, but when Kili arrived, she bolted and said she needed to find her Uncle and Aunt.” Balin explained.

“So we find her relatives, we find her.” Dwalin says. “If they are heading for Erebor, they will use the main gate.” Fili stated. They looked at each other and ran for the gates.

It was early enough in the day, that the markets were still going on. Thorin paced in front of the gate and then decided. “Let’s head back to Erebor. Wait till they enter the gate and we close the gates for the night. Then we find them, invite them to dinner, and then maybe we can get some answers.” he suggests. Balin nods. “I think that would be wise. Fewer chances of her running.” he said.

They headed back to Erebor. “Balin, I want you and the boys to stay on the ramparts. Watch for her and her family. Greet them warmly when they arrive and see they are shown to our guest rooms and tell them they are invited to dine with me for supper tonight.” Thorin tells him. Balin nodded.

#skittish #jade #gemcarver #balin the dwarf #kili durin #thorin oakenshield #king thorin #dwalin #runaway #arranged marriage #dyed hair #shame #flashback

18 notes · View notes

exquisitley-obsessed · 6 years

Text

The Three Women Of Durin - Master of the House (21)

MASTERLIST FOR THS STORY

(not my gif)

The company were gathering around the fire for their last night in Beorn’s house, they were packed and prepared to leave so they could enjoy their last night. Bofur had just finished telling a particularly funny story when Kili had fallen off the back of his stool with laughter.

“That, was, brilliant!” Frankie gasped through laughter, watching as Kili’s legs flailed in the air. The group quietened down and gave dozy smiles of tiredness, the stars above them shining brightly.

“I want to hear more of your music,” Ori spoke up smiling at Rosie with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Sure,” Rosie said reaching over for her phone.

“No,” Ori suddenly said, “Sing something,” He smiled, this time Rosie blushed.

“I um, I don’t sing,” She said shyly.

“Say’s the girl who got the main role in school’s Les Miserables,” Frankie rolled her eyes.

“Okay, it’s a small school and they were desperate,” Rosie sighed back.

“You can still remember the song though,” Cece spoke up.

“I would rather sing a song with you guys though,” Rosie answered shyly.

“Master of the house?” Frankie raised an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Rosie winked.

“Master of the house, doling out the charm, Ready with a handshake and an open palm, Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir, Customers appreciate a bon-viveur,” Frankie sprung into a song, the company (even Thorin) mighty interested in the song.

“Glad to do a friend a favour, Doesn't cost me to be nice, But nothing gets you nothing, Everything has got a little price!” Cece took over, standing up and gesturing to the company as if she was on stage.

“Master of the house, keeper of the zoo, Ready to relieve 'em of a sou or two, Watering the wine, making up the weight, Pickin' up their knick-knacks when they can't see straight,” Rosie joined in and she, without him noticing, pulled a handkerchief out of Bilbo’s pocket and then dangling it in front of his face.

“Everybody loves a landlord, Everybody's bosom friend, I do whatever pleases, Jesus! Won't I bleed 'em in the end!” Frankie winked as she dissolved into large laughter as some of the dwarves tried to join in, all though it was obvious they had no clue. They continued to dance like drunks, the firelight painting their moving shadows on the sky above them. A moment of pure joy

Then Frankie, in one movement, picked up a small button off the floor and chucked it at Kili.

“Oh, sorry love, must get something done ‘bout that,” She said looking up into the empty sky. She then sat down next to him a looked dreamily, obviously all an act, the girls simply continued to pretend that they were currently in an inn.

“I used to dream that I would meet a prince, But God Almighty, have you seen what's happened since?” Frankie sang before turning and looking at Bombur who widened his eyes whilst Kili looked scared as hell.

“Master of the house? Isn't worth my spit! Comforter, philosopher' and lifelong shit!” Frankie continued to sing before sliding into the lap of Kili whilst the whole of the company sat, very unsure of how to react. Rosie watched with enjoyment and Thorin was torn between being angry and amused.

“Cunning little brain, regular Voltaire, Thinks he's quite a lover but there's not much there,” She winked leaning in, Kili was as red as a cherry.

“What a cruel trick of nature landed me with such a louse, God knows how I've lasted living with this bastard in the house!” She rushed before pulling something out of Kili’s pocket without him noticing, chucking it the Rosie before planting a small kiss on his cheek.

“Master of the house!” Cece called standing on a chair.

“Master and a half!” Rosie called back.

“Comforter, philosopher,” Cece replied, jumping back down.

“Don't make me laugh!” Rosie rolled her eyes.

“Servant to the poor, butler to the great!” Frankie and Cece called walking forward to Rosie before retreating.

“Hypocrite and toady and inebriate!” Rosie replied, walking half-way across the small gathering before retreating.

“Everybody bless the landlord!” They responded.

“Everybody bless his spouse!” Rosie cried back.

“Everybody raise a glass!” Frankie cried throwing a glass in the air.

“Raise it up the master's arse!” Rosie called standing on a chair.

“Everybody raise a glass to the Master of the House!” The three girls called together before dissolving into laughter, how had they remembered that song after all these years? The company appeared lost for words at what they had just witnessed. The company were silent for a while, taking in what they just witnessed.

"Next time, just don’t ask," Dori said nudging Ori who simply nodded back, a content smile on his face.

It was morning and the company were set and prepared to leave Beorn's house, abroad ponies with their bags full of supplies to get them through the next few days. Gandalf bid his farewells to Beorn and so did the girls, thanking him for his kind hospitality. They then set off, understanding that the lands they would cross were riddled with orcs, they moved quickly, not necessarily quietly, but fast enough to get to the opening of Mirkwood in a half-hour.

You could feel the sickness even before you entered. The forest radiated something which would course through your body making every cell feel sick. It was like a fire of disease, pulsing through you, the heat attacking your skin. The girls pulled their bags off their ponies before handing the reigns to Dori who handed them over to someone else. Wearily they walked into the opening where they came face to face with an eroded statue of an elf.

"Is this his wife?" Frankie asked, running her fingers over the intricate pattern, she didn't even need to say his name for the girls to know who she was talking about.

“I believe so,” Cece whispered next to her. Gandalf walked further, no doubt about to reveal the mark on the stone statue. The girls shivered and walked away, waiting for Gandalf’s reveal. Gandalf pulled away some ivory to reveal what he feared. He muttered something to himself before turning and walking away.

“Not my horse! I need it!” Gandalf cried as Nori was about to untie the horse’s reigns.

“You’re not leaving us,” Bilbo sighed.

“I believe our wizard has somewhere more important to be,” Cece said as she walked closer to Gandalf giving him a knowing look. The girls watched intently as Bilbo was about to reveal his secret in the form of a small golden ring.

“Do not enter that mountain without me, do not touch the water, the air in this forest is heavy with illusion, it will seek to enter your mind, you must not let it,” Gandalf said before climbing his horse.

“Don’t worry Gandalf, we will take good care,” Frankie said will an all-knowing tone, Gandalf looked as if he didn’t trust the girls.

“Good. Farewell,” He said before turning his horse around and riding away, the company turned to the girls.

“You have nothing to fear,” Rosie smiled, the girls watched as the company noticeably showed their relief, believing that the girls were somehow telling them that they would not befall any trouble in these woods. Man…Thorin was going to be pissed, it would be the Goblin cave all over again.

“Keep an eye out, do not let the sickness seep into your brain,” Thorin called as he entered the elven gate. The company formed a line and they plunged into the dark forest, a low-level fear piercing the hearts of all. Here we go.

26 notes · View notes

theimaginesyouneveraskedfor · 7 years

Text

Bent

This is a fic for my anniversary celebration for the following: - “H-how long have you been standing there? @thebakerstboyskeeper + “After everything you’ve done, you’re asking me to apologize for snapping at your once?” @anonymous

“Mahal’s sake!” Fili frightened you as he burst through the door, “I swear, it never ends.”

“Mmhmm, so it seems,” You set down the book you had been reading in the privacy of your solar.

Several times you had been disturbed by both Durins as they complained of their own wounds or those of their uncle. Fili’s arm was still in a sling and he hunched rather awkwardly as he walked, though he seemed to have forgotten his pain in his irritation. Kili’s ribs had been cracked and so he kept to a moderate pace, but both princes had recovered marvelously compared to the king.

“I can’t believe that horse’s arse,” He sat across from you, taking your unamused gaze as an invitation, “You know, he threw his dinner at me? After I brought it too him?”

You noticed the spot of gravy splattered across Fili’s tunic and nearly grinned. It would have been comical if it weren’t for your own experience of the king’s state. Thorin had been sentenced to bedrest for weeks after the battle and when Oin had advised him otherwise, he had refused to rise for another week. His moods had grown dark and inconsistent, with him swinging from one extreme to the other.

“Oh,” You set aside the novel and sat up, “Well, apparently he also tried to wrestle your brother at lunch.” You shook your head grimly, “The last I saw of him was more than a fortnight ago. I told him if he was going to be so intolerable, I’d not bother with him. Thus, I’ve been seeing to the Mountain and those who should be arriving soon enough…the king’s in no state to do so.”

“No, he isn’t,” Fili grumbled as he twiddled one of the braids which hung from his golden mustache, “Even Dwalin’s sworn him off. Nearly tore the door off yesterday and taught me curses I’d never heard before. He may not be the most eloquent but he has quite the vocabulary.”

“That he does,” You could see the humour in the situation but if Thorin continued on so, he could not be expected to rule, “And Balin?”

“Well, after tonight’s episode, I think he’ll be the only left with the patience for my uncle,” Fili shrugged, “And even he’s got his limit.”

“Mmm,” You squinted as the gears turned in your head, “I see. You’ve come to me for a reason.”

“I know you’ve already chosen to shun him but the rest of us haven’t the strength to bear him any longer.”

“And what makes you think I would?” You challenged.

“You were the first to call him on his nonsense,” Fili explained, “And you’ve not the familial obligation. Besides, I seem to recall you had no issue rebuking him upon the journey.”

“Yes, but I didn’t enjoy having to do so,” You sighed, “Dwalin’s truly resigned?”

A knock kept Fili from answering and you looked up to find Balin standing in the door way, your door still ajar from the prince’s rash entrance. “Oh, Mahal,” You mumbled darkly.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Balin stepped inside, the lantern illuminating the moisture spattered across his front, “Though, I think not.”

“You, too?” You gestured to his stained vest, a fleck of potato in his white beard.

“He seemed to disagree with the notion that he should leave his chamber,” Balin neared your desk, his pale eyes saddened, “I’ve not any more sense of how to help the stubborn dwarf.”

“Fili’s just informed me of his own clash with the king,” You pushed back your hair, trying to ignore that little voice in your head, “I think it may be prudent to simply let him be.”

“It may…but I fear another descent,” Balin stroked his beard, pulling forth the potato with a grunt, “We cannot give up on him so easily.”

“We?” You echoed dubiously, “It’s sounds as if you two already have.”

“Please, Y/N,” Fili pleaded, hands together, “For us…For the Mountain. If he tosses his dinner at you, you can walk away, but please, try?”

“Hmm,” You rubbed your cheek, staring at the cover of your discarded book as you thought. It was tempting to simply pick it back up and bury your nose in the pages, yet you knew you would not be able to focus on the words, “Fine,” You looked back to them, “I’ll try, but I’ll not be gentle.”

“Do what you must…If only Dis were here,” Balin lamented.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You stood, stretching your shoulders as if readying for battle, “Right…so, I guess I’m off.”

“Y/N,” Fili stood as you rounded your desk, “Good luck,” He patted your shoulder, “You’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” You accepted dryly, “Just know that if this goes poorly, you’ll not be left unscathed.”

“You’ll be fine, dear,” Balin ushered you away from the prince, “Better to start sooner than later, though.”

You marched down the corridor, having left Balin and Fili with one final glower. How weak they were. To enlist you to face the king. From all you had heard and your own rift with Thorin, you had little confidence in the endeavour. What could you do differently from the rest? Sure, you did not let your loyalty to the king colour your demeanour towards him but it did not make handling him any easier.

When you reached the door of the king’s chamber, it was surprisingly tranquil. No sound came from within and you were hoping he had already retired for the night so that you could delay the inevitable just a little longer. Weeks ago, that very corridor was endlessly busy, a flurry of coming and going. Oin to see to the king’s wound, Balin and Dwalin to check in on his condition, other members of the company to visit their liege devotedly.

You paced the hallways several times before stopping before the door, raising your hand precariously. You knocked, softly, quietly; hoping among hope it would not be heard from the other side. Alas, fortune came crashing down upon you as you heard a stir from within. A ferocious grumble and heavy footsteps, the handle clicked and you braced yourself for the tempest.

Thorin snarled as you stood before him, trying to shove the door back into place as you set a hand upon it. You held it open and stepped inside, “Good evening, Thorin.”

He stepped back as you swept by him, a look of stunned impudence upon his face. You peered around the room, remnants of his tantrums across the table and carpet.

“Sorry, your majesty,” You corrected yourself as you turned back to him, “You may as well close the door. We’ve much work to do.”

“Work?” Thorin rasped.

“Yes, you and me,” You gestured between you, “Are going to clean this up. We don’t want it turning fowl and smelling up the whole chamber.”

He was speechless as he watched you take a kerchief from the table top and the basin from atop his bedside table. You dropped the cloth into the lukewarm water and pressed the bowl against his chest until he was forced to wrap his arms around it. You searched around for another cloth and knelt beside the putrefying stew across the carpet.

“Come on, the longer we wait, the worse it gets,” You sniffed emphatically and gagged, “Well?”

As you stared at him expectantly, he was too confused to protest. Slowly, he shuffled over, limping on his tender leg, and lowered himself carefully as you offered a hand in aid of him. He pushed it away and set down the basin, taking the cloth reluctantly before turning his attention to the carpet. You dipped your own cloth into the bowl and helped as he scrubbed the stew out.

“Now, I’m still curious to know what this is all about,” You said as you worked, “Tossing stew on everyone.”

“I don’t answer to you,” He growled, keeping his eyes to the carpet, “You’ve no right to reproach me.”

“You need to learn to clean up your own messes,” You sat back on your heels, looking at him as he avoided your gaze, “I’ll not continue to help you do so. You’re fortunate I’m even here.”

“I didn’t ask for your presence.”

“Well, no one else can stand you,” You replied, “You cannot rule a mountain if you ostracize everyone within it. Your subjects will arrive soon and there is much work to be done.”

“I am well aware, I am the king,” He looked directly at you.

“You are,” You dropped your cloth into the basin with a plunk, “So you best start acting like one.” You pushed yourself to your feet and turned to examine the room, “Now, all you’ve left is the table and then you should get yourself abed. You’re still healing and we’ve much to catch up on,” You crossed your arms as he used a chair to climb to his feet, “I’ll be here in the morning and we’ll begin.”

“You’ll not get past the door,” He warned but set to washing the table, a hint of shame in his tone, “I can tend to my own duties.”

“Oh, you will tend to your duties,” You tilted your head, “But I’ll be here to make sure of it.”

Thorin’s lips twitched and he bared his teeth at the tabletop. You heard a whisper of khuzdul, obscene to be certain. You shrugged off his malice and watched him wipe away the stew. This would be a task indeed.

Tap, tap, tap. The head of the ebony cane echoed down the corridor as you hit it against the wall with every step. You stopped before the royal door and knocked with the walking stick, waiting for a response. It came quickly as Thorin opened the door with a sneer, though you were surprised he had answered at all.

You held out the walking stick to him and he eyed it warily.

“For you,” You kept it aloft, “I told you, we’ve much to do and you’ll not get much out that leg without it.”

“You’re insatiable,” He muttered and snatched the cane, turning away to hobble across the room, “I’ve yet to break my fast, however.”

“Oh, we’ll be doing so together,” You assured him, “So move along and get dressed. You must look a king.”

He glared at you over his shoulder, pulling tight the belt of his dressing robe before he dragged himself over to his armoire. You sighed and looked around the chamber, pretending to be distracted by the stonework around the hearth. You listened as he retreated behind the screen and then to the bath chamber. You turned back as he re-entered, his skin pale, and you felt a pang of pity.

“Sit, I’ll get your boots,” He pouted but kept silent, letting himself fall heavily onto a chair. You might have worked him a little more than you should and you might have been too optimistic in your planning.

You grabbed a pair of leather boots and plunked them before him. “You should be able to handle the rest.”

He shoved his feet into them with a growl, mumbling as he tied them intently. He had managed to brush his dark waves away from his face, his overcoat bore gold embroidery along cuff and collar, and for the first time in ages, he looked like the monarch he was. You retrieved the cane from where he had left it and put it against the table next to him.

“Alright, you’ve got you boots on, let’s go,” He glared up at you darkly and reluctantly reached for the walking stick, pushing himself up, “I apologize, I’ve yet to find a crown big enough to fit your thick head.”

“Y/N,” He leaned on the cane, angling towards you, “You’ve already pressed my patience so far, you’ll not last the day if you carry on so.”

“You mean you won’t last,” You countered slyly, “Now, hurry up. We haven’t got forever.”

The tray was heavy but you didn’t mind. It would be all the better to bash Thorin over the head with. You had made it through the day but he had only grown increasingly agitated. You had brought him to the forge to consult with those still trying to restore it and to the throne room to inspire him for his impending coronation. When the dwarves returned from Ered Luin, he would be expected to don his crown.

You had allowed him frequent breaks without being obvious, slowing your own frantic pace so that he did not tax himself. Even so, his moodiness remained and yours piqued. You offered to fetch his dinner, more so as a respite than a favour, and he limped away towards his chambers.

You kicked the door as you approached and stood for a moment before you realized there would be no response. You kicked again, harder and louder, causing more pain to yourself than the door. You swore as you finally heard movement from within and the door opened to reveal the king who was none too subtle in his amusement.

You entered, nearly swiping him with the tray, and carried it over to the table.

“No ale tonight,” You announced as you uncovered his meal, “It’s no good to drink as much as you do while you’re still recovering.”

“Mahal, Y/N, you’re not my mother,” He moaned as he neared, eyeing the food despite his agitation, “You cannot tell me not to drink.”

“And you’re not a child so don’t whine like one,” You retorted, “From what I can tell, given your tendency to throw your food around in your little tantrums, it’s best you spend a night sober.” He grimaced as he sat and you slid his plate before him, your own dinner having to wait until you finished with him. “Believe me, I don’t enjoy having to watch over you.”

“You don’t have to,” He speared a slice of carrot, “To be honest, I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

“Let me set it plainly to you, Thorin,” You placed your hands flat on the table as you looked him in the eye, looking directly at him, “If I wasn’t here, no one would be. You’ve driven away your own nephews and your oldest friends.”

“They weren’t any help,” He grumbled, “Fretting over me like I was some sort of invalid.”

“They were concerned,” You argued sharply, “Listen, I know it’s…difficult. The battle was not what we expected, the journey was long. Mahal, I almost lost my eye and look little better than orc,” You alluded to the ragged scar around your left socket, “We all suffered. We’re suffering still.”

“You don’t know,” He looked away, “You can tell my nephews and whoever else out you up to pestering me that I’m fine. Now go.”

He gripped his fork tightly and you frowned. “You even think of throwing that food at me and you’ll get worse.”

“Are you threatening your king?” His blue eyes turned to ice.

“No, I’m not, for you don’t act very kingly.”

“You treasonous snake!” He stood, his injured foot nearly giving out under him, “I could have you executed.”

“Go ahead,” You met him in stride, glaring at him despite your nose barely reaching his chin, “Prove yourself to be mad to all those too afraid to even look at you.”

“Apologize,” His voice was low and dangerous, “Now.”

“Apologize?” You questioned, “After everything you’ve done, you’re asking me to apologize for snapping at you once?”

“I’m commanding you to apologize to your king!” He raised his voice so loud it nearly shook you, “Now!”

“I know you Thorin,” You scoffed, “I know you’re not so mad as that. Insulted, ashamed, lost? Yes, but you’re not mad. You’re still the dwarf you’ve always been.”

“You don’t know me,” He retorted and fell back into his chair, “Leave me be.”

You watched him spear another carrot, his blue eyes focused on his plate. He chewed slowly, his hair falling forward around his face and you saw his brow twitch. He was too embarrassed to look at you. You turned away, leaving him to his sulking as you hungered for your own dinner.

An entire week. You could not believe you had managed to put up with the dwarf that long. With every morning, your hope that it would be fortuitous diminished. The night before had ended in silence. Thorin had stared you down over an inventory Balin had written up. In it was listed the repairs made to the forge and those still needed. The king claimed to be too tired but as he had done little more than sit in his throne as you argued with him, you were certain of his dishonesty.

Exasperated, exhausted, and close to the brink, you stormed out and opted for a full night’s sleep instead. Sadly, all you could managed was to roll back and forth as you fretted over the king’s obstinacy. It was not enough for him to fill your days with misery, he must also occupy your nights.

You strolled along the stone floors, ready to confront Thorin for the nth time. You would truly let him have it. He had the manner of a bull and he was a wound festering in your side. He was fortunate that any bothered with him and didn’t leave him to wallow in his bitterness.

The knock at his door was hollow and went unanswered. You rapped again and yet no sound or movement came from within. Worry began to rise along your spine and neck as you knocked a third time and still no response. Warily, you grasped the handle and pressed the lever until it clicked. The door opened slowly, ominously, into a grim dark unmarked by any light.

The soft light of early morning was kept out by thick curtains and even the fire was dead. You could hardly see in the dim and you felt around blindly until you found the single candle atop the king’s writing desk. You found the flint not far and struck the wick, a small orb of light spreading around you.

“Leave me alone,” The voice was quiet, broken almost, “Please.”

“Thorin?” You could no longer feel the anger which had driven your footsteps down the corridor, “Are you well?”

“Leave me,” He ordered but there was little strength in his tone.

You found him curled up atop his bed, his covers messed up below him and his hair hanging down over his face. His knees were bent and his arms crossed as if shielding himself from some unseen force and his blue eyes stared starkly ahead.

“Are you in pain?” You asked softly as you sat beside him on the mattress.

“I…” He rasped, “Don’t know.”

You reached over to brush away the hair from his forehead, the silken waves falling back easily. He looked at you and closed his eyes, turning his head into the pillow as if to hide. You had heard of this sickness before. That which is borne of battle. Borne of blood and scars.

“How about we stay in today, Thorin?” You offered, not removing your hand from his head, instead continuing to stroke his stands gently, “I’ll make tea and have some food sent up.”

“I want to be alone,” He grumbled into his pillow.

“Well, too bad because I’m not leaving,” You slid down the bed until you were laying beside him, “Look at me,” He reluctantly did so, a hint of tears teetering at the corner of his eye, “I’m going to draw you a bath and you’re going to get washed up…and you’re going to relax, alright?” He just stared at you blankly, “Then you’re going to get dressed and we’re going to have tea. Nothing else, okay?”

He nodded and sniffed as you sat up, tugging on his arm until he did the same. You smiled at him and stood, squeezing his arm before disappearing into the bath chamber. You were glad no one else had seen Thorin thus. It was better that they thought him to be a cranky old miser than the broken dwarf sitting in the dark.

You had finally brought yourself to leave Thorin, if only for a moment. You had been concerned as he slunk of to the bath chamber but you dared not hover over him whilst he washed. That would be a bit much. Instead you focused on brewing a pot a tea and running to Bombur in hopes of a light breakfast.

With the king having eaten and him engrossed in a novel you had dug out of an old trunk, you felt it was enough to keep him distracted until your return. You were not surprised to have him prove you wrong as you raced back up to his chamber and entered to find the novel face down on the floor and the king with his arms crossed as he glared at the burning fireplace.

“That’s an awful boring book,” He moaned, “I’m not a child, you can’t just sit me in the corner and have me read.”

“Thorin, that was not my intent at all,” You sighed, the bundle under your arm feeling less triumphant than it had a second ago, “Besides, I think I’ve found something much better.”

“Another book?” He grumbled as he planted an elbow on the table, leaning on it in dramatic melancholy, “How many times must I ask you to go?”

“I may just, soon enough,” You returned, “Here,” You set the heavy object, still hidden beneath the cloth on the table with a metallic clunk, “Go on and tell me to go again.”

Thorin stared at the shrouded gift, though it was more so a discovery. It was his by rights and Balin had finally uncovered it from the ash which lingered in the Mountain. The king huffed and lifted his hand, sitting straight but his hand froze as he took the object and felt its familiar weight. You saw his face pale and flush all at once.

“How did you--?” He pulled back the wool and the silver harp shone in the firelight; you had made sure to have it polished and the strings replaced, “This is my harp…I haven’t seen this since—Y/N,” He looked up at you with astonishment, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s yours,” You took another chair and placed it across from him, “Now, I’ve not found it just to have you to admire it. Play me a song.”

“What?” He rubbed a thumb along its curve and bit his cheek, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, go on, I’ve seen you play before,” You urged.

“Yes, but not on this,” He freed the instrument of its cover and set it on his knee, “I guess I could try.”

“Please,” You smiled patiently as he ran his fingers along the strings, searching for a tune in his head.

“Alright,” He succumbed as he held it in place, “If only to have you quiet for more than a minute.”

You chuckled and Thorin began to strum the strings. Delicate at first and then deliberate, until the air was filled with a song you could not name. His eyes closed and for a moment, his cheeks brightened and he smiled, forgetting himself with the music. He played without pause and you listened intently, basking in his artistry until the strings fell silent.

“Beautiful,” You lauded and he set the harp back on the table, “I’ve never heard you play so well.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” He stood and neared you, “But I think I want to be alone.” He offered his hand and helped you to your feet, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Sure,” His voice did not possess the same sorrow as when you had arrived that morning; he had earned some time to himself, “Tomorrow.”

He led you to the door and opened it for you, nearly stunning you with his courtesy. It had been a long time since you had seen this side of Thorin and it sparked the hope which had been slowly dying. You bowed your head in farewell as you stepped through the door and he did the same, his lips curving just slightly. It was the first time you had left and not been ready to tear him apart.

It was not much, but it was something.

The day was brighter than most. In a figurative sense, of course, as you had not even chanced upon the outside world. You woke, washed, dressed and set out for your day with Thorin. You prayed he was not as he had been the day before; huddled in bed, defeated, damaged. Your boots slid upon the stone as you turned the first corner and nearly found yourself toppling Fili.

“Oh, Y/N, what luck,” His tone was menacing, if not foreboding, “I was just about to knock on your door.”

“You were?” You frowned, “Please, I can’t handle any bad news right now.”

“No, it’s Thorin.”

“Thorin?” You tensed, “What about Thorin?”

“Well, I think maybe I should show you,” He raised a row, “It’s quite hard to explain.”

“Right…” Your breath heaved as anxiety stabbed at your stomach, “Well, lead the way.”

Fili did so swiftly, a grin coming and going as he walked along, and you were surprised when he stopped before your solar. The door was open and you could hear humming from inside. A deep baritone carried on the air which was oddly fragrant. Erebor rarely smelled of anything but smoke and stone.

“He wasn’t singing when I happened upon him, but he was acting rather peculiar,” Fili mused as you peeked through the doorway.

Thorin had arranged a vase of flowers upon your desk and the mess you had left there was gone. All had been tidied and the king hummed as he arranged the books on your shelf. You would never have expected such cheer from him. Even before the journey. You couldn’t help but laugh and the noise caught the king’s attention, causing him to blanch as he looked over his shoulder.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” He asked, rubbing his neck.

“Long enough, Uncle,” Fili scoffed, “What in Mahal have you done to him, Y/N?”

“Perhaps my good mood is the product of have been freed of your jokes for so long,” Thorin stomped over to his nephew.

“Never mind,” Fili groused and looked to you, “Well, you’re efficient nonetheless.”

“We’ve got to get the Mountain ready,” The king interrupted, “And we cannot have our counselours working in such disarray.”

“Counselour?” You wondered.

“I’ve not formally appointed you but you’ve taken the reins quite well,” Thorin assured, “Today, I want to look over that forge. Balin says the populace is not far off and we’ll need the fires burning if this Mountain is to be fully restored.”

“As you wish, my king,” You bowed your head and Fili elbowed you subtly, sharing a covert look of amusement with you.

“Nephew,” Thorin’s thick fingers squeezed the prince’s shoulders like a vice, “You, of course, have your own duties. Go find Balin and see to kitchens. Bombur cannot have done much with those two louts he has working with him.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Fili grumbled, “And Kili?”

“I’ve already sent him to help Dwalin with the lower quarters,” Thorin released his nephews, “Now run along.”

Your mouth was slightly agape as you took in the new Thorin, or rather, rejuvenated. You forced your lips closed and smiled, looking over his shoulder at your solar.

“Those are lovely flowers,” You stepped inside and admire the pale tulips; the flowers would soon shrivel with the end of autumn, “Did you gather them yourself?”

“I did, I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk around the Mountain at dawn,” He neared and you suddenly felt very heated despite the chill of Erebor, “I saw them and thought--,” He coughed abruptly as if catching himself, “They are pretty, aren’t they?”

“Very,” You ran a finger along the vase’s lip, the weight of Thorin’s gaze wearing down on you.

“Bombur is to make a feast tonight,” He announced, “I would play my harp and we’ll be merry. We’ve waited too long to celebrate.”

“A novel idea,” You praised, “Now, let us be about our work. There is much to be done.”

“Wait,” Thorin stopped you from reaching the door, blocking you with his broad figure, “I, uh…wanted to thank you. For yesterday, I don’t think, I, um,” He looked around, gulping as he struggled for words.

“I told you, you don’t owe me thanks,” You waved your fingers dismissively, “Besides, you won’t be thanking me when I drink you under the table at the feast.”

“We’ll see about that,” He grinned and moved from your path, gesturing you through the door, “The last I recall we drank together, you were not so victorious.”

Despite being as dark as ever, the Mountain had taken on a new light in less than a day. As you spent the hours inspecting the forge alongside the king and explaining the restorations already made, you had forgotten time. Before, every second with Thorin had seemed to drag by in his ire.

You had parted after going over the blueprint of the forge one last time and begging the king to release you. Somehow, he had reversed from entirely resentful to almost clingy. You wondered if it was just a high after a crushing low but the shadow of his old self assured you otherwise. It was epiphany. It was recovery.

You pulled on a clean tunic, the former plastered with dust, and brushed your hair, retying your braids tightly. You were eager to see the rest of the dwarves, it had seemed too long since the entire company had been together. It was, of course, difficult to stumble upon one member without another, but for months, the lot of you had been inseparable as you fought to reclaim your homes.

The hunger you had failed to notice throughout the day grew ravenous as you neared the great hall. The smell of freshly baked bread and savoury dishes came stronger the closer you got. A din of voices accompanied the splendid aromas and you entered the hall to find the table lined with dwarves already passing around a pitcher of ale.

“Y/N,” Fili called to you with a wave, “You look strangely happy?”

“Do I?” You mused as you neared, sitting on the bench beside him, “I think that might be the food.”

“Bombur can certainly work miracles,” Fili praised, “Just like you.”

“Oh yes, Y/N,” Balin chimed from across the table, “The king seems much recovered since you’ve whipped him into shape.”

“I did no such thing,” You protested, “He just need a little push, is all.”

“Speaking of,” Fili elbowed you as a figure entered, Thorin the last to appear, “Even he looks keen.”

“Give it a break, Fili,” You muttered, “I’m certain he would still be inclined to cuff you across the head.”

“Forgive my lateness,” Thorin announced before Fili could deliver his sly retort, “And my recent disregard,” The king approached the head of the table, leaning on the cane you had presented him, stopping only feet from you, “We’ve reclaimed Erebor at last and I failed to see the victory so hard-fought. By all of us,” His voice carried sonorously, “You all deserve my utmost gratitude. Without you, this would not have been possible. Any of it. I fear I have been careless since the battle and I cannot blame it merely upon my wounds. But I promised to be a good king to you all when we began this journey and I’ve yet to break avow in my long, albeit foolish, life.”

The table of dwarves cheered as one, their steins thundering against the table in their applause. You joined in as their chatter resumed and they soon forgot the king’s speech for the ale in their cups and food upon their plates. As you scooped spiced potatoes onto your dish, a sudden weight caused the bench to groan and you looked to your other side to find Thorin beside you.

“Y/N,” He greeted as he took an empty stein and filled it, but to your surprise, he set it before you before pouring his own.

“Thorin,” You speared a pork loin and dropped it clumsily on your plate, “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” The smile on his face was growing more and more prevalent, “This Mountain would be in shambles without you. As would I.”

You chuckled, shrugging off his compliment as you sipped your ale. Truly, you only did so out of embarrassment, trying to hide the colour you could feel rising in your cheeks. You felt Fili nudge you once more and you nearly choked on your mouthful as you turned to him sharply. The entire table was looking at you and the king and the prince was grinning devilishly.

“What is it?” You hissed.

“Y/N,” He tilted his head towards your other shoulder, “You still haven’t said what exactly you’ve done to my uncle.”

“Oh, shut up, I don’t like your implication,” You shook your head and turned back to your plate but Thorin’s eyes burned into you, drawing your attention once more form your food.

It was then that you realized how intent his gaze was. That he had not looked away from you since he had sat down and that he had drawn the attention of the rest. “Thorin,” You kept your voice low, “Are you sure you’re quite alright?”

“I’m certain of it,” He still did not look away and you smiled awkwardly, glancing over as Dwalin stifled a chortle into his sleeve, “You worry too much.”

Oh, Mahal, you thought as your eyes widened. Even that oaf of a dwarf could see through the king and his none-too-subtle manner. It couldn’t be possible, though. He wasn’t fawning over you, he was merely basking in his return to spirit…wasn’t he?

You reached for your stein again and drank deeply, trying not to melt beneath the unrelenting gaze of the diners. You focused on eating your food while keep your conversation with Thorin to a minimum. You were still trying to figure out how to react to his attentions, to convince yourself that you were not misunderstanding him.

When his plate was bare, Thorin stood and motioned to his younger nephew. Kili pulled forth the king’s silver harp from beneath the table and handed it over. Thorin took it and placed it at the head of his table, clearing his throat to silence the rest. “This harp is a symbol of Erebor. Of its rebirth. My mother gifted this to me when I was but a dwarfling and while it was lost to Smaug’s invasion, it was not destroyed. Like the Mountain. Like us.”

A reverent hush took over the company and they looked expectantly to the king as he placed a hand upon the dwarf. “If you would humour me,” He smiled and hovered his fingers along the strings before daring to pluck. The strumming of the harp was soft and velveteen, joined shortly by the smokey tones of Thorin’s voice.

Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hill and valley, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield.

There we will sit upon the rocks, And see the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.

You cringed as once more you felt all eyes upon you and were disappointed to find your cup empty. Balin leaned across the table and whispered, “I daresay, I think you’ve gone and made the donkey fall for you.”

There I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this way,” You heard Dwalin mutter as Bofur winked at you and motioned to the king.

Thy silver dishes for thy meat, As precious as the gods do eat, Shall on an ivory table be Prepared each day for thee and me.

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.

The hall went silent as the strings of the harp faded and a suffocating stillness descended upon the table. Your mind went blank and you stood abruptly, trying to step over the bench but instead tripping and falling to the ground with a yelp. You heard footsteps rush to you and did not need to look to see who it was.

“Y/N,” Thorin’s tone was concerned as he helped you sit up, “Are you alright?”

“I…” You peered over at the dozen pairs of eyes watching from the table, “Would you lot quit staring at me?”

You pulled away from Thorin and stood without grace. You glared at the dwarves and then their king and stomped your foot with a huff before turning to march to the door.

“I swear,” You declared as you neared the door, “A dwarrowdam cursed to be surround by fools.”

You tramped into the corridor and towards your chamber. That was not the dinner you had expected, though the footsteps which soon neared were not entirely a surprise. Thorin called to you and you stopped, crossing your arms as you turned back to him.

“Why’d you have to do that?” You accused, “Why’d you have to look at me like that?”

“Like what?” He stopped before you as if he had been struck.

“And why’d you have to sing that song?” Your voice was louder than you intended.

“I…” He looked perplexed as he paused, “I, uh…I’m that obvious, eh?”

“Obvious?” You squeaked.

“I mean, it may not be clear to you yet, Y/N,” He donned a wily smirk, “But you’re my One.”

“One?” You exclaimed incredulously, “Thorin, come on. We’ve know each other how long and suddenly I’m your One?”

“I don’t how I was so blind,” He nearly sang, “But I know it to be true, Y/N. You’ll see it sooner or later. I know you will.”

“Thorin, I—You are the most intolerable, stubborn, pigheaded, arse of a dwarf I’ve ever known,” You pointed at him as you stomped towards him, your finger almost touching his nose, “And I…” You searched for words, for sense in the haze that was overcoming you, “Mahal, I—I---I fucking hate you!”

You seized his collar and pulled his lips to yours forcefully, every ounce of frustration and tension poured into the kiss. You felt him smile and you shoved him away. “And dammit if I don’t love you.”

“I told you,” He chuckled, “It’s about time you listened to your king.”

“Shut up,” You warned, “And don’t you ever dare sing that song to me again.”

“I can’t make that promise,” He drew you to him and you couldn’t help an obstinate smile, “Besides, you gave me the harp.”

#request #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #one shot #fic #the company

229 notes · View notes