#poor bilbo needs a vacation lol

[mxliv-oftheendless]

How to Set Up Your Actors (Without Really Trying) (Barduil Month Week 1)

Actor AU: In which Thranduil and Bard are costars for a film and Bilbo is, as usual, rather confused on what's happening and very annoyed by everything.

It's Barduil Month! So I thought I'd participate and write some stories for a ship I love! This one was inspired by this Barduil comic drawn by the amazing @corndog-patrol ! Thanks so much for letting me write a story based on the comic! And thank you @bi-widower-dads for setting up this whole event! Hope you guys enjoy!

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When Bilbo’s phone vibrated the moment he sat down at his desk, it should have been a tip off of how the next hour would go. But since Bilbo was a very busy man (Valinor Talent Agency didn’t run itself, after all), who already had quite a lot to do, he elected at first to ignore it. Instead, he focused on opening his calendar and checking to make sure That Meeting was indeed today and he was ready for it. Sure enough, it was there, today at eleven o’clock, so in about twenty minutes.

He sighed and pulled out the drawer containing his emergency stash of headache medicine. He looked at it for a moment, contemplating whether he should be—

His phone vibrated again. He turned it over.

—whether he should be proactive and prepare for a potential headache. Anything was possible, especially when Bilbo didn’t feel awake and caffeinated enough for anything. Which usually ended up being all the time. Maybe he ought to see someone about that.

His phone vibrated yet again. Bilbo huffed and turned to pick up his phone and see what so desperately wanted his attention. What he found was a series of angry text messages from dear cousin Lobelia screaming in a flurry of poor grammar and an excessive use of capital letters. Nope. He was not dealing with that.

There was a series of smart, rapid knocks on the door. “Come on in,” he called as he set his phone down.

The door opened and Thranduil Oropherion swept into his office. Yes, that Thranduil Oropherion—professional stage and film actor, known for his cool professionalism, sharp wit, insightful intelligence, and fashionable dress. And also for his long blond hair that he refused to cut. Thranduil Oropherion also happened have one Bilbo Baggins as his talent agent.

Any lesser man may have been intimidated at the prospect of being the agent of such a high profile and equally high maintenance actor. But Bilbo Baggins was no ordinary man—even if he did often wonder why Thranduil refused to cut his hair when he was usually pretty reasonable about other things.

“Good morning, Bilbo,” Thranduil greeted as he sat down in the chair opposite the desk.

“Morning, Thranduil,” Bilbo returned. “Early as usual, I see.”

“I had to be,” Thranduil sniffed. “Have you seen the traffic this time of day?” He raised a hand to inspect his immaculately done nails. “Couldn’t this meeting have been scheduled at a different time?”

Bilbo sighed. Maybe he should’ve taken the headache medicine after all. “Well, it was the best time for everyone to meet,” he said. “Now, once your costar gets here, we’re going to take an hour or so for you both to get to know each other, then we’re going to the conference room for the Zoom call with the screenwriters to talk about the script—”

“And the director? Where is he in all of this?” Thranduil frowned. “I had hoped he would be here as well. I would like to discuss certain things about the script with him.”

Bilbo turned his phone facedown as it buzzed again. “The director had to call off. He’s meeting with the production company.”

Thranduil’s frown deepened fractionally. “Very well.”

He was sure he would regret asking, but Bilbo still ventured anyway, “What’s wrong with the script?”

“Well first of all, there is a clear lack of vision for the characters. Are my costar and I to be playing one-dimensional stereotypes? There is no buildup or suspense for what is supposed to be a horror plot line, and the horror relies solely on cheap jumpscares rather than any actual fear or dread.”

Now, listen, Bilbo wanted to be more annoyed at these critiques. He was sure any decent screenwriter or director would be. But personally, he just thought to himself that this was why Thranduil was such a professional and well-respected actor—he was knowledgeable not just on how to act but also on all other aspects of a production.

However, he did still think Thranduil was being a bit unfair. “I thought the script was good. Maybe it’s just a bit jarring to you since you haven’t played a protagonist like this one before.” From how Thranduil frowned but didn’t respond, he knew Thranduil knew he had a point. “Which is another reason why it’ll be good to meet with your costar and the screenwriters, since then you can get a better sense of what they want from the part you’re playing. And your costar has done more roles like yours, so he can give you some insight too.”

At the mention of his mysterious costar, Thranduil thankfully dropped the subject of the script. “Where is this costar, anyway?”

“On his way here, most likely.” Maybe that was why his phone kept vibrating, because the costar was calling him. But no, that was his personal phone that was buzzing…

“What is his name… Bard Bowman?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“What has he been in recently?”

“His last film was—hang on, you didn’t look into him at all?”

Thranduil sniffed. “Of course not. I’m a professional.”

From how long they’d known each other, Bilbo knew that meant Thranduil thought that would feel too weird and he didn’t want to seem strange for stalking his costar’s filmography. He went on. “Well, his last film was a part in some fantasy film—”

“You mean you don’t remember?” Thranduil quipped.

Bilbo just gave him a snarky smirk. “Of course not. I’m a professional.” He continued. “And then for the last year and a half he’s been on a break. Wanted to spend more time with his kids, his agent said.”

To his dismay, Thranduil’s frown appeared again. “His agent is from Dale Talent, isn’t he? Didn’t they come out of the complete cesspool of corruption that was Laketown Talent?”

Bilbo couldn’t help wincing at the name, and his phone buzzed again as if in agreement. That whole scandal had not been pretty. “They did. But Dale’s model is ethical, they pay their taxes on time, and none of their staff have evasion, public disturbance, or harassment charges. Plus their tea was pretty good.” He glanced at the clock. Five more minutes until eleven. “Right, he’ll probably be here soon. Be nice, alright?”

Thranduil gave him an indignant look. “I am always nice, Bilbo.”

“Not backhanded, passive-aggressive nice. Really nice. And that goes for when you’re meeting with the screenwriters, too.”

Honestly, sometimes he wondered if that scowl was just permanently attached to Thranduil’s face. “That will depend on what they have to say about their barely-passable-quality script.”

Bilbo could feel a headache coming on. Today was not the day to put up with all of this. “Thranduil, as your agent—” He decided to appeal to the actor’s more reasonable side. “—as your friend—I am really begging you to behave.”

Thankfully, it worked; Thranduil’s scowl softened marginally even as he scoffed and crossed his legs. “Please, Bilbo. I am an absolute joy to work with.”

Bilbo leveled him with a withering look. He amended himself. “Yes, I will be polite.”

Bilbo’s phone vibrated again as he sighed and nodded gratefully. “Good.” His phone buzzed again (what was going on?) but he ignored it and checked his agenda. “Now, he’ll be here any minute. So make sure to introduce yourself and find something you both can talk about. You’ll both be needing good chemistry anyway—”

“Why would we need good chemistry?”

Oops. He shouldn’t have said that. Bilbo maintained his cool as his phone buzzed again. “There’s going to be some romance—”

Thranduil’s eyes flashed. “The script did not call for a romance, Bilbo,” he said tensely, the sort of tense calm one would find in a very, very small eye of a hurricane.

Bilbo, however, was not intimidated. “Some things were reworked. You two are going to have a romance plot line. Did you not get the revised script?”

“No!” Thranduil leapt to his feet and paced angrily. “Unbelievable!” he ranted. “What is that hack director thinking, doing such a last minute change? Are we film students in graduate school? Is that what this is?” Bilbo’s phone vibrated again. “And where is that constant buzzing coming from?!”

“It’s my phone,” Bilbo grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not the one who made the changes—”

“Obviously not, because you know better!” Thranduil whirled around on him in a mess of fury and blond hair. “A last minute change like this is unacceptable! Call that director! We need to discuss—”

Bilbo was seconds away from faceplanting on his desk, when there was a knock on his office door. “‘Scuse me?” someone called from outside.

Bilbo checked his wall clock. Eleven o’clock. He shot Thranduil a glare clearly meaning “Behave,” before saying aloud, “Yes? Come in.”

The door opened, and Bilbo’s headache throbbed a bit more when Bard Bowman politely entered the room. Just great. “Good morning,” Bard said politely. “Are you Mr. Baggins?”

Bilbo tried to arrange his face into a look that didn’t suggest he was one more inconvenience away from throwing something and nodded. “I am, yes.”

Bard’s face split into a grin. “Great!” He came over with an extended hand. “I’m Bard. Glad to finally meet you.”

In spite of the day, Bilbo returned the smile as he shook Bard’s hand. At least Bard’s friendly reputation was true. “And you. You’re right on time.” He turned to Thranduil, hoping at the very least that Thranduil still didn’t look like he’d nearly thrown a diva tantrum a second ago. “Thranduil, your co-star, Bard Bowman.”

To his surprise, Thranduil looked far from angry—he was staring at Bard with an almost… awestruck look on his face. The look reminded Bilbo of the look his nephew Frodo would get when he was staring at the anime characters he thought were especially hot.

Bard, on the other hand, didn’t seem to realize that was Thranduil’s look. He just smiled even wider and happily went to offer a handshake to Thranduil. “I can’t tell you how great it is to be working with you,” he said eagerly. “Your work is just amazing. Really, it’s an honor.”

And then Thranduil did the most unexpected thing: he smiled. And not just any smile, but the charming one he saved for interviews and red carpet reporters. “Please,” he replied, taking Bard’s hand, “the pleasure is mine.”

Really, if Bilbo didn’t have such a headache, he probably would have been flabbergasted by Thranduil’s rapid change of attitude. But as it was, the most he could give was a raised eyebrow. “So, Thranduil, do you still want to talk to—”

“No.”

“Alright then.” One less thing to do, at least. Although he probably would be having a word with the director about letting people know about last minute changes. But he could worry about that later, when he had gotten some coffee and ibuprofen tablets. “Well, how about we get started with—”

His phone vibrated yet again, and this time, it didn’t stop. Bilbo sighed in frustration. “Hold on.” He picked up his phone and looked to see who was calling. It wasn’t a number he remembered saving in his phone… But when he looked at the area code, he suddenly remembered when Drogo told him he’d put Bilbo down as one of Frodo’s emergency contacts at his middle school just in case.

He held up a finger to Bard and Thranduil and left his office to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Uncle Bilbo.”

What the— “Frodo?” Why was his eleven-year-old nephew calling from his school's phone?

“Can you pick me up from school? Mum and Dad are both at work.”

Was that what all the texting had been about? “Why do you need to be picked up? What happened?”

“I, uh… got into a fight with Lotho…”

“YOU WHAT—” Bilbo glanced at his office door and lowered his voice. “You what?!”

“It wasn’t my fault! He was bullying Tom Cotton and—”

Bilbo’s headache throbbed and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Actually, Frodo, don’t. Explain it when I get there.” He checked his watch and calculated how long it would take to pick up Frodo and come back. Yes, he could manage it. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do not do anything until I get there.”

“Thanks, Uncle Bilbo!”

“You’re welcome. Be there soon.”

Bilbo hung up and rubbed his forehead, then went back into his office. Bard and Thranduil had sat down on Bilbo’s couch, talking about something, with Thranduil sitting far closer than Bilbo had expected. “Excuse me,” he said.

The two actors looked up at him. “Everything all right?” Bard asked.

God, he wished. “Sorry about this, but my nephew called and I need to pick him up from school. His parents are both at work.”

Thranduil smirked, and Bilbo had no doubt he was wondering what Frodo, who was usually such a well-behaved child, had done to be sent home from school. He could not let Frodo tell him; Thranduil would probably buy him ice cream. Bard on the other hand nodded in understanding. “I understand. I can reschedule, if you like. My kids are in school too, so I’m pretty open most days.”

“Actually, it won’t take long, about twenty minutes, maybe, so why don’t you both get something to eat?”

Thranduil smoothly interjected. “I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he said, giving that charming smile to Bard again (and did Bard shift and smile a little back, or was that Bilbo’s headache muddling things?). “Have you been to the cafe downstairs? They serve excellent coffee.”

Bard smiled at him. “No, can’t say I have.”

“Well, that just will not do. We can eat and,” he smiled coyly, “get acquainted while Bilbo fetches his nephew.”

“Well, that sounds perfect.”

Bilbo wondered if he was supposed to feel like a third wheel right now. “Right, well,” he awkwardly went over to his desk to grab his keys. “Good. You two, get to know each other, and I’ll be back soon.”

As he left the two to… whatever was starting to happen between them… he looked at his phone again to see what all the vibrating earlier had been about. It turned to have been several more very angry text messages from dear cousin Lobelia, ranting and raving at him about how Drogo and Primula were raising a violent, wild child and he needed to stage an intervention so that Frodo wouldn’t attack her dear, sweet Lotho ever again. Ah, so that was what all that was. Frodo must have won that fight against Lotho.

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t sure what just happened or what he had just done for Thranduil and Bard back there in his office, but either way, he still had a feeling Thranduil would get Frodo ice cream for something today.

#barduil #barduil month 2024 #the hobbit #thranduil #bard the bowman #bilbo baggins #the hobbit fanfiction #actor au #idk how good my writing is but i thought this idea was really funny so #poor bilbo needs a vacation lol #also a cameo by frodo because i love him #if you guys were wondering what happened lotho tried to fight frodo and frodo beat the crap out of him lol #and inadvertently allowed for some romance to start developing lol #fanfiction #writing #my writing #lord of the rings #tolkien

[darnloveablecharacters]

Prove Me Wrong, Part Fifteen: I Will Try

Series Summary:  Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of the following imagines from @imaginexhobbit: This One is the basis of the story, and This One and This One will be added in later. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are my own!

Prove Me Wrong - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Guess who FINALLY is updating! THIS WRITER!! lol, sorry y’all, it’s been an absolutely insane month. But here you go! I had this one written, and I’m kind of sad that I didn’t post it before all the craziness... but here you go!

Warnings for this chapter: Talk of violence/death

Translations: Unalê - My tracker (khuzdul)

Tagged: @imaginesreblogged @chevycastiel1967

Caithwistë walked absentmindedly back to her room for the evening. She had spent the entire day with Bilbo, showing him around the Last Homely House. It had been easy for her to be around him, and he had listened intently to the history that she had to offer about the valley. She had even convinced some of the elves to gift him with some seeds to take home and plant in his own garden. His face lit up like a child’s when he received his gift, and had pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

Caithwistë, smiling at her new memories, turned into the hallway that led to the bedrooms and came to an abrupt halt as she came face to face with Thorin.

His eyes were wide, as if she had startled him by suddenly appearing. He took a step back, and his eyes flicked down her body taking in her attire. “Caithwistë.” He said in a strangled voice, eyes finally reaching hers again.

“Thorin.” She acknowledged with a quick nod. “I apologize, I was not paying attention to where I was walking.” She gave him a polite curtsy, then moved to walk around him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She had nearly passed him when she felt his hand grip her arm tightly. “Wait, please.”

She glanced down at his hand on her arm, then raised her eyebrows at him. “Yes Thorin?” She said breathlessly.

He gave her a calculating look before sighing, and releasing her arm. “Will you speak with me?” He asked, catching her off guard.”

Caithwistë searched his eyes, and found a strange mixture of sadness and hope. She glanced toward her bedroom longingly, and sighed in defeat. “Yes. This way.” She said, gesturing to a vacated balcony.

Thorin followed her to the balcony, remaining silent as he peered over the edge. She stood next to him, and gazed over the valley that was bathed in the warm glow of the sunset. “You’re angry with me.” Thorin said, breaking the silence.

Caithwistë sighed, and kept her eyes forward. She was not prepared to have this conversation with him. Not yet. She felt Thorin’s eyes fall on her curiously, but she pressed her lips together unwilling to answer.

“I thought as much.” He said sadly. “Balin spoke to me of the words you had with the Company this morning. You think we are being unfair with these Elves.” Caithwistë bit down on her tongue to stop herself from replying with her anger, but Thorin continued. “You are correct to think this of us.” He said, so quietly that she almost missed it.

She glanced at him in shock. “I am?” She asked uncertainly.

Thorin nodded. “Aye.” He turned his focus back to the setting sun as he thought about his next words. “When the dragon destroyed my home, the Elves abandoned us.” He began. She could hear his own anger laced in every word as he spoke. “They could have been the difference, and that day could have been a victory. But, Thranduil refused to risk the lives of his army for us. Since that day, I have hated them. Not just those who had pledged allegiance to us so long ago, but all of the Elves.” He gazed back at Caithwistë, imploring her to understand.

“By your own logic, I should hate all dwarves.” Caithwistë muttered without thinking.

Thorin looked at Caithwistë curiously. “What do you mean?” He demanded.

Caithwistë’s eyes flicked to Thorin in fear, and she began to back away from the balcony. “I should not have said anything, I apologize.” She bowed her head and turned to leave.

“Please.” Thorin pleaded, stopping her in her tracks. Caithwistë slowly turned to face him again, and was met with his repentant eyes. “What happened?” He asked quietly.

Caithwistë sighed. “It’s not a pleasant story. You don’t need to hear it, it’s in the past.”

“Tell me anyway.” Thorin said, taking a tentative step closer.

Caithwistë searched Thorin’s eyes for a ruse, but all she found was his burning curiosity. She nodded, and he seemed to relax. She sat on a bench chewing on her lip, as she decided how much of her story she could tell without giving herself away. “When I was young,” she began slowly, “my family was always on the move. We were very poor, and my father took work anywhere he could to provide for us. We traveled from town to town, but it never lasted long before we would be driven away.”

Thorin sat on the bench next to her as she took a deep breath, then continued. “Eventually, we came across a dwarven colony. We were starving, and my father begged them for help. They turned us away at the gate without even giving us a chance.” She said, feeling her old anger rising up in her. “It was many years later when we encountered a group of dwarves from the same colony.”

Caithwistë curled her hands into fists as the memory of that day flowed through her. The anger seemed fresh, as if it hadn’t been over three-hundred years. Thorin was watching her with sadness is his eyes as she continued. “My father made us hide in the trees, my mother and I. It was as if he knew what would come next.”

A tear trickled out of Caithwistë’s eye, and Thorin rested his hand gently on her clenched fists. “We heard them arguing. I didn’t understand what was happening. My mother had tried to cover my eyes, but I fought her and I saw them…” She choked, and Thorin tightened his grip on her hands. “They killed him Thorin.” She finally managed. “They killed him, because he made a choice in life they didn’t agree with.”

“Caithwistë…” Thorin breathed.

“My mother couldn’t go on after that. She was completely heartbroken.” Caithwistë was glaring at a spot on the ground, trying to control her emotions as she spoke. “That’s when Mithrandir arrived. He brought me here, and Elrond took me in.”

Caithwistë finally looked at Thorin. He was watching her with a pained look. “It was the Elves that sheltered me.” She said fiercely, and Thorin looked down in shame.

“I would have killed them.” He muttered angrily. “Dwarf or no, I would have killed them had I known.”

“You won’t have that chance.” She said bitterly.

Thorin glanced back at her with raised eyebrows. “No?”

Caithwistë’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I sought them out, after I left Imladris. It took many years, but I finally found them. They will never harm another soul.” She finished, watching Thorin’s reaction.

He nodded solemnly, then smirked. “Remind me never to truly anger you.”

Caithwistë smiled, despite herself and looked toward the edge of the balcony. The sun had nearly set now, and the valley was bathed in an orange glow.

“Perhaps you are right.” Thorin mused after a few moments of silence. He pulled her hand out of her lap, and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Caithwistë’s breath hitched at the contact, and she gazed back at him. “About what?”

Thorin’s eyes twinkled as he answered. “You probably should hate dwarves.”

Caithwistë laughed. “I probably should. But I never met another dwarf after that, until the day we met in Bree.”

Thorin nodded, grinning mischievously. “Aye, the day you refused to aid this quest.”

“The same.” Caithwistë said, nudging him playfully.

Thorin chuckled. “I’m glad you did though.” He said, growing serious again. “You seem to fit well with the Company, and they have grown very fond of you.” He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. “I will try.” He said eventually, opening his eyes again. He gazed at her affectionately.

Caithwistë’s heart skipped a beat. “What will you try?”

“I will try to see things as you do. I will try, to be less judgmental of these Elves that have helped us.” He smirked. “I make no promises though.”

Caithwistë smiled warmly. “That’s all I can ask of you. Thank you Thorin.”

Thorin’s lips parted, and something flashed across his eyes that Caithwistë had never seen before. He began to lean forward slowly, never taking his eyes off her. Caithwistë’s heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest as he leaned into her. He stopped just as he reached her, silently asking for permission.

Caithwistë granted Thorin’s unspoken request by closing her eyes, and softly pressing her lips against his. As soon as their lips touched, Caithwistë felt a warmth spreading through her like she had never felt before. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, and all that was left was them in this moment. His lips were softer than she could have ever imagined as they moved tentatively with hers. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and he let out a soft groan against her mouth.

Thorin pulled away from the kiss with a shaky breath and smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “Unalê.” He muttered softly, and tightened his grip on her hand that he was clinging onto. “Thank you for telling me.” He said after a few moments of content silence.

“Thank you for listening.” She said, truly grateful.

Thorin nodded, then leaned back. “It’s getting late. Allow me to escort you to your room?”

“I would be honored, Master Dwarf.” Caithwistë said with a giggle.

Thorin smirked as he stood, offering his arm to her. Caithwistë stood and slipped her arm into his, and they walked silently toward her bedroom. They stopped at her door, and Thorin placed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Good night, Unalê.”

“Good night, Thorin.” She said, and slipped into her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and listened as Thorin’s footsteps faded.

When he was gone, she crossed the room and laid on her bed in a daze, thinking about what had just transpired. Thorin called her Unalê, just as he had in her dreams. The thought brought her warmth, and simultaneously terrified her. She was very fond of Thorin, but he still did not know what she was. He promised that he would try, but would that promise hold true when he found out about her? She tried to shake the thoughts from her head, frustrated. Not too long ago, her decision to leave the Company had seemed easy. Now, she wasn’t sure.

“What am I going to do?” She muttered to her pillows as she drifted to sleep.

#the hobbit imagine #the hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin x ofc #thorin imagine