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shiinata-library · 1 year

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Tea and apple pie

Relationships: Bilbo x fem!Reader

Content: Comfort, fluff

Summary: Even though you live in Bag End with Bilbo, you don’t feel well, but you’ll eventually find comfort.

On AO3

Note: I needed a quick comfort fic with Bilbo and I couldn't find one, so I wrote one. Enjoy!

You couldn't have asked for anything better than to live with Bilbo since he returned to Bag End. Yet today, your mood is at its lowest and you don't want to bother him. It’s true you aren’t well, but that is nothing compared to what Bilbo has been through, right?

After sighing for a while alone, unable to find an interesting book in Bilbo’s library, you decide to go out. Fresh air should do you good. Autumn has already begun so you put on a light jacket at the front door.

“Where are you going? I was about to start making dinner,” Bilbo says as he walks toward you, wearing his comfortable multi-coloured dressing gown with a surprised face. “And it’s almost night. Were you planning to go out with your friends?”

At first, you don’t know what to answer, feeling stupid to be in this depressed state, but when he is in front of you, you feel that you need to change your mind. A walk in the Shire would be perfect.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo resumed, stroking your upper arm. “Yes, I’m fine. I, hm, I need a little fresh air. And I’m not hungry. No need to wait for me to dine.”

You hope your smile is convincing, and you won’t wait for his opinion. You leave Bag End for a long walk alone while the sun sets behind the scattered smials on the horizon.

When you come back home, it’s totally dark outside. The wind is cold, and you’re glad to find the fireplace lit when you open the front door of Bag End. In truth, the walk didn’t help you. You’re just colder and more tired than before. Maybe going directly to bed could be the best. As you remove your jacket to put it away on the coat rack next to the door, you smell a delicious meal. Oh, it’s your favourite meal…

In the kitchen, Bilbo doesn’t hear you joining him. He is focused on the window, looking outside with a melancholic look. His hair is shining with the hearth's light and some candles. The table is set, waiting for your return. It seems he didn’t eat without you finally. Once he notices you, a light smile appears on his face as he wipes his hand on his apron.

“Oh, you’re back!” he says in a cheerful voice with a hesitant smile.

You walk to him slowly. Without a word, you hug him, your head burying in his neck while his arms close on you. Apple, tobacco, and some flowers. Is his smell that calms you in this way? You never realised he smelled like home to you.

“I was worried about you,” he murmurs as his hands stroke your back gently while his hair tickles your neck. “I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well and I thought I needed to clear my head while I just needed you.”

Your hug becomes more tightly as you realise his presence is so comforting. Bilbo is a little surprised by your behaviour but he would never refuse a hug from you. Hearing you say that you're not feeling well hurt him even though he already realised something was wrong when you left earlier.

“You should have told me,” he says as he strokes your hair softly. “You can talk to me whenever you need, you know?” “Yes, I know but I didn't want to bother you. It's nothing compared to what happened to you.”

Bilbo slowly pulls away from you, just enough to see you. Still in his arms, he kisses your forehead before speaking again.

“It's not nothing if you're like this. Tell me about it.”

Despite being sweet, his tone doesn't give you a choice. Not letting you go, he listens to you without a word until you finish. Once a smile eventually appears on your lips now your mind sounds lighter, Bilbo kisses your forehead once again. His hand finds your cheek and he frowns when he feels you are still cold from your walking.

“Do you want to eat or rest first?” he asks in a hesitant voice as he starts to let you go. “We should eat first. I'm starving,” you say now you are better and your stomach is asking for food.

Your answer couldn't have reassured him more. His eyes start to sparkle and his smile widens. He has such a cute face you can resist.

“Perfect!” he says as he leads you proudly to the table. “I made everything for you! As we say in the Shire, everything is better with a full belly! Sit here and let me serve you. I cook your favourite meal and an apple pie. We can eat it with tea in front of the fireplace to warm you better.”

Who could stop a hobbit from serving you food? In no time, Bilbo serves you and himself, then sits in front of you. When he starts talking about food, he hardly stops. Considering how much time you spent talking to him about what made you sad, you can let him brag a little about his apple pie, right?

And finally, listening to Bilbo’s stories with tea and a piece of apple pie in front of the fireplace, sitting in an armchair in his arms, may be just what you need after all.

#the hobbit fanfic #bilbo #bilbo baggins #bilbo x reader #the hobbit reader insert #comfort #fluff

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i-did-not-mean-to · 5 months

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Fireplace

Written for @lordoftherazzles. Have a little cosy warm ficlet <3

(Sorry, I posted the fic for the 25th yesterday, so we do a switcheroo)

Characters: Thorin x Bilbo

Words: 1 760

Warnings: elves, dwarves, men, a fireplace...very fluffy, very legal, very cool

Thorin scowled but wiped the discontented expression off his face almost instantly—after all, distasteful as it might have been to him, this project was his very own.

Usually, he and Bilbo spent the winters in the Shire where the climate was more clement and the cold not as biting, but due to the upcoming wedding of his nephew, they had decided to stay in Erebor this time.

The brave Hobbit had not expressed any unhappiness about it, but the King knew, nevertheless, that the howling wind and the pervasive chill were gnawing on him relentlessly.

Bilbo, for all his inner fortitude, was not wrought of hard, non-corroding metal—his was a world of soft comforts, and Thorin was determined to provide as much solace as he could to his beloved.

Thus, he had invited both Bard and Thranduil—loathsome, overly critical intruders—to his realm to help him devise a fireplace that would bring not only welcome and much-needed warmth but also earnest joy to his gentle consort.

Even though Bilbo had expressed genuine, enthusiastic admiration for all the dwarven crafts and mechanisms in Erebor, Thorin suspected that the great furnaces and functional grates were not entirely to his liking.

As the little smial had been discreetly decorated with the angular, geometric patterns of Thorin’s home over time, the King of the Lonely Mountain considered it only proper and fair that he’d make some allowances for the aesthetic sensibilities of his cherished partner in return.

“It’s beautiful,” Bard now commented, grinning widely at their masterpiece.

“It is good,” Thranduil admitted while meticulously straightening the tassels of an intricately embroidered rug that had been sent all the way from Imladris. “He deserves nothing less.”

Smiling grimly, Thorin nodded. He was aware that Bilbo was much more popular than he would ever be, and despite his profound distrust for the Elves and all their creations, he was happy to see how generously they had contributed to the small sitting room he had prepared for Bilbo.

“Now get lost,” he rumbled when Ori slipped in, his arms bending under the weight of a stack of books he was carrying as a last addition to the homely sanctuary. “I don’t know how long Fíli and Kíli can distract my love before he comes looking for me.”

As foreseen, Thorin found Bilbo—red-cheeked and laughing—in the Great Hall where he was engaged in a complicated game of dice. By the looks of frustration and dismay on his nephews’ faces, the Hobbit was also winning which gladdened Thorin’s heart even further.

“Ah, my dear, I shall soon own all the riches of Erebor,” Bilbo hooted as he tilted up his face to receive the forceful kiss he knew Thorin would give him. “This is a hostile take-over!”

“Erebor’s resources are at your disposal,” three Durins said at the same time, in the same self-evident tone, and Bilbo hid his face in his hands for a moment.

They always seemed so ruthlessly efficient and lethally competent that he seemed to regularly forget how sweet and gentle their hearts were—thankfully, they found enough opportunities to remind him that, beneath a tough veneer of polished metal and unyielding stone, they had the best, bravest, and most loyal souls.

“Come, leave the princes to lick their wounds,” Thorin prompted and pulled the other up by a pudgy, soft hand. “There is something I want to show you.”

Confusion and earnest curiosity shone on the handsome, homely face of the Hobbit as he let himself be dragged out of the room without putting up any resistance.

“Ah, the winters in Erebor are a sight to behold,” Bilbo babbled as they walked towards their bedroom. “Thorin?” Smouldering, sensual excitement thrummed in his voice now as he realised in which direction they were headed.

“As much as I wish…” the dwarven king laughed and pointed at the door that had been off-limits for his consort for a whole while now.

“Oh? I finally get to see what secrets you’ve hidden in there? I tried to pry it out of the princes—and I almost got Kíli to the point of letting something slip—but, ultimately, I could not learn anything I didn’t know already.” Visibly peeved by this, Bilbo accelerated his steps, so eager was he to finally get to the bottom of the mystery.

When the door swung open, a soft gasp escaped him.

“What is this then?” he murmured dazedly, even though he was much too astute not to recognise a sitting room when he saw one.

The bare stone walls had been covered with warm, dark wood and a comfortable-looking armchair sat on a beautifully woven rug—both had clearly been made by the Elves, and Bilbo’s head swivelled around slowly to gaze at his lover in speechless shock. He knew only too well how much Thorin objected to his neighbours and their faraway kin, so he could hardly imagine him inviting their craftsmen and artists to work on a room inside his hallowed, jealously guarded mountain.

“Let me,” Thorin grinned and went to kneel by the main draw of the private sitting room: the immense, intricately carved fireplace.

If his hands shook a little while he coaxed the reluctant embers into roaring flame, it was only understandable after all the trouble he had gone through to create this warm, cosy, safe space for his husband.

“You had this made for me?” Bilbo asked in a choked voice as he stepped closer to the richly adorned mantelpiece and traced the impressively detailed decorations of dragons, forests, and acorns. “This is the story of our adventure,” he whispered, entranced by the beauty of the craftsmanship.

“Your adventure, to be exact,” Thorin corrected gently and, getting back to his feet, tapped his finger against the first carving on the far left that depicted Bilbo’s little smial. “I am not entirely convinced by the way these pointy-eared bastards decided to represent me,” he grumbled, frowning at the burly, long-bearded, overly surly-looking doter in the middle of the fireplace’s border, “but I think that they did a solid job otherwise.”

“You…for me?” Bilbo repeated, his eyes starry with wordless delight and deep gratitude. “Why?”

“Well, there is a small smithy in the back garden of Bag End,” Thorin replied sheepishly. “You’ve been so very good at making space for me and ensuring that I’d feel welcome and comfortable in your home. As we stay here for the winter…”

“OH! But I love being here,” Bilbo exclaimed. “Bofur will make me a sleigh, and the boys and I shall have a wonderful time in the snow!”

Cupping Thorin’s bearded cheeks between his warm, slightly trembling hands and pulling that serious face down for a passionate, tender kiss, the Hobbit smiled indulgently. “I love Erebor,” he said. “It is cold and draughty, sure, but it has its own charm. I would not have agreed to stay here for the season if I did not honestly want to.”

His button nose twitched expressively—they both knew that, by now, Bilbo was indeed rarely the kind of creature to hide his displeasure or unwillingness. “More than anything, though, I love being here with you,” he insisted, “and this is wonderful, but it was not necessary.”

Leaning his still furrowed brow against the smooth one of his darling, Thorin gave a deep, shuddering sigh.

“You are the very best partner any Khâzad could ever dream of,” he murmured and slung his strong arms possessively around the lighter, narrower frame of the Hobbit. “Mahal be blessed—I often think that I do not deserve the love of one so kind and understanding.”

“Have you fallen on your head?” Bilbo laughed, reminding his spouse that he had forced him to clean and air out all the stuffy furs of last season only that morning. Thorin had grumbled extensively but had ended up complying. “If anything, I have become even more spoiled since knowing you.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin objected. “You are the very soul of bravery and resilience, dealing with my kin and people, charming my sister, and keeping Erebor up and running like clockwork without ever raising your voice!”

Chuckling sheepishly, Bilbo leaned into the embrace of the dwarven king he so adored and hummed happily as he felt tiny kisses being peppered onto the crown of his messy curls.

“Bombur shall bring up cupcakes soon,” Thorin whispered, his icy blue eyes warming as Bilbo’s head flew up and warm hazels lit up with eager delight. “He thanks you very kindly for your recipe—he said he might have added a distinctly dwarven twist to the rich creaminess of the sweet syrup.”

“Meat, you mean?” Bilbo laughed.

“You really did think of everything, haven’t you?” he then murmured and sank back into the strong, protective arms that would have been more than enough to keep the biting cold at bay as far as he was concerned. “I am so grateful for the immense effort you’ve made. Tell me, do I see foreign influences?”

“You’ve been so enamoured with the Elven designs.” Embarrassed, Thorin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly—at the time they had passed through Rivendell, he had still pretended that he was in no way unduly interested in or attracted by their burglar.

The small squeak of emotion and joy escaping a much more sedate and fully claimed Bilbo now was worth a moment of painful truth though.

“You are well-liked, my love,” the King admitted. “Everyone has fallen over their feet to help.”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Bilbo teased and pressed a soothing, tender kiss onto the warm skin of Thorin’s throat, just above the richly embroidered hem of his handsome tunic. “You needn’t be. As gratified as I am by the willingness of our friends to contribute to my happiness, I really only need you by my side!”

Mollified by this reassurance, Thorin led him over to the soft, inviting sofa and, together, they sat down with a low grunt of relaxation. Soon, Bilbo’s legs were swung over the armrest and his head was resting in Thorin’s lap while thick, blunt fingers carded through his soft hair distractedly.

“You are such a romantic—you’ve remembered all the things that we would have done in the Shire. I’ve never thought that you’d pay that much heed to our silly little habits.”

Snorting in vexation, Thorin tilted his bearded chin down to look at his most precious of gems.

“Maybe,” he said playfully, “it was I who missed the comforts of Bag End.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Bagginshield #Thorin #Bilbo #Fireplace #cosy fluff #Thranduil #Bard

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mischieffoal · 8 months

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Rosie, Frodo and Sam, Now and for Always

Here it comes: Cici’s chaotic “review” of Lord of the Rings: a Musical Tale

(Spoilers for the musical: go and see it (it's running until mid-October 2023) and then read this)

“My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell in the park.

5 stars.”

Nothing like a bracing sprint through Reading station to forge fine friendships over somehow managing to get to Newbury and the Windmill Theatre in time. We unite with our friends, get a group photo in the designated Instagram spot and, most importantly, confirm that there will be ice cream in the interval.

It’s Mr. Bilbo’s eleventy-oneth birthday, didn’t you know? The hobbits make sure we are well informed, and someone on our picnic table is accosted by Fatty Bolger and made to play whack the rat. They all look lovely, waistcoats and sandals abounding, and some watching fauntlings are very gently introduced to hoopla. In general, if you are LARP-positive, sit at the left hand end - we were in the prime spot. Bilbo complimented my cloak and I derided my companions once again for being the only cloaked representative of our smial. Then, someone else approaches - she asks us if Mr. Bilbo said anything odd. Nothing odd at all, we reply, all a perfectly normal party. I think he’s planning something, she says. I’m worried about my spoons. I gasp. “Madam, may I ask, are you perhaps Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?” “I am!” “Madam it is an honour! I am honoured to be in your presence!” She shakes my hand. My life is complete.

Soon enough, the actual musical begins, narrated by partying Hobbits. Now and for Always had stuck in my head just from the soundtrack on YouTube, and it’s a worthy start to the show as Mr. Bilbo tells the same old stories that he always does. Hobbits sing and dance and every one of them plays an instrument. Someone has a piccolo, someone else has a lute. Bilbo has a harmonica and an accordion. Every single Hobbit has an unspecified country accent. The Brandybucks are loud, the Proudfoots are Proudfeet and Fatty Bolger moans at me about it. R says he knows who’s playing Gollum, because he’s bald. Frodo is very sweet, but I catch Lobelia’s eye across the garden and commiserate with her at her ill fortune. Sam asks Rosie to dance, and I fall in love with them (Sam is Sri Lankan, and sounds it, and Rosie has Afro hair, and they make me very happy). Bilbo gives his speech, “magically disappears”, and 17 years pass as we all get up and troop into the theatre proper.

We’re on the side of the balcony, in a wonderful wooden interior that J guesses might have been a church at some point. We return to the action with Frodo, Sam and Rosie, greeting each other with a little two step jump that I want to do with all my friends. Frodo sends them off to the Ivy Bush, because there seems to be some kind of trade mark problem with the Green Dragon. Gandalf enters bombastically, and Frodo and Sam leave as soon as they know their task, because they know that the show is only three hours long, including an interval.

The singing begins! Walking fast, singing and playing as they go - The Road does indeed Go On, the centre stage rotates as they dance-walk around it. Merry and Pippin assail them in a projected cornfield, because they’re his cousins and they’re not letting him do anything dangerous alone. Frodo is very put upon. Merry plays the cello, hanging round his neck, Pippin has a fiddle, and Sam a guitar. Also, Pippin is a girl, not just played by one. Good for you, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. She’s also terrified of trees (Merry knows a less Tree-ish route and the Old Forest is resoundingly ignored.)

(Photo Pamela Raith)

And then! Elves! Gildor and Earendil sung with a Y! All the elves are wearing lovely blue tabards. Dark is the road ahead for Frodo, and danger follows their path. That’s nice and cheery.

(Speaking of costume, Gandalf and Saruman have very nice robes. Saruman is played by the bald one R assures me will be playing Gollum. They have a fun little stand off across the rotating stage, and Saruman isn’t hiding any of his schemes - army included. Uh oh.)

In the Prancing Pony, K says she’s going to play “spot the Strider” but Strider is in fact very very bad at being inconspicuous, as the only one wearing a hoody.

Strider makes himself known, and so does Pippin, and Frodo’s brilliant distraction plan is to sing a song. He’s not at all prepared for this and walks like a puppet, but the Brandybuck and Took contingent are raring to go with the Cat and the Moon, and soon Frodo is having a lovely time dancing on tables and all. Let’s pretend that Frodo’s smile will never fade.

The Ring goes on. Mari Lwyd black riders appear. Frodo looks like he’s underwater and it’s very funny. Stabbing ensues (no time for Weathertop today). Run! Run for Rivendell! (Costuming side note: Strider has a banging undercut and goatee situation going on). Arwen enters playing a harp, singing a Song of Hope in a bunch of elvish with no subtitles. Tolkien would approve. “The weary traveller returning… home.” It’s Strider, and we learn that this is the first time he’s returned since disappearing to be a ranger. He’s grown a lot, Arwen says. Strider mumbles something about not wanting any bigger destiny than her. Then Frodo wakes up and it turns out they’ve been having this lovely romantic discussion is his hospital wing. Ah, good, says Frodo, we successfully completed our adventure! Merry is very excited at the amount of books and maps, also did you know that Arwen is a half-elf, technically, and did you see the way she looked at Aragorn, and did you know that she’s thousands of years older than him?

(Photo Pamela Raith)

The council is called, Saruman the bald is also playing Elrond the bald, and is generally an old wise man. All of the elves are obsessed with hand gestures, and their hands are never below their waists. Everyone has so many problems, but Boromir (with another very cool undercut) wastes no time telling everyone Gondor has it worst. The steward is asleep, you say? And you had a dream and followed it here? But the sword that was broken is as lost as the One Ring. (Boromir has great dramatic timing.) Frodo will take the Ring to Mordor, though he don’t know the way. Gimli will go with him, and so will Legolas and Gandalf and Strider. (The Elf and Dwarf are Iranian and Black, and it really stands out amongst the otherwise white Men - I like it a lot). Strider asks Boromir nicely and Boromir says fine, he’ll come too. The fellowship of the ring! A rousing ensemble number with Earendil with a Y! Boromir is playing the trombone and singing at the same time and it’s the best!

Saruman learns of the Fellowship from his useless gas-mask orc minions. He deals with it himself - with menacing flute music. He flutes up a storm on Caradhras, and the Fellowship must go through Moria. Gimli reverently takes a guitar, and sings them a song of his people, as the fellowship and the audience have a chance for a rest. Then drums start in the deep, a balrog is come, and Gandalf is gone. They must continue - to Lothlorien. That horn player is a different elf now, you can tell because their tabard is gold this time!

They arrive blindfolded as Legolas waxes lyrical about the elves of the golden wood, and it turns out he’s not in love with Galadriel he’s just really patriotic. Galadriel tells Frodo they will both share a great loss, and also sings a power ballad.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Everything falls apart after Lorien, as we all know. Boromir dances with the hobbits before the orcs get him - Strider appears seconds too late, and Boromir tells him he’s failed, the Fellowship and his people. Strider shows him his broken sword (he’ll show you his if you show him yours) and finally claims his birthright. Boromir begs him to save “our people” and Aragorn really can’t deal with that, especially when Boromir dies in his arms. Aragorn is the best actor in all of this and it’s mainly in degrees of how much he cannot deal with this. The three hunters reunite, honour Boromir, and finally pick themselves up for the road ahead - Aragorn can see the hobbits’ footprints…

In the interval we theorise on how they’re going to fit two whole books into a second act shorter than the first one. Are they just going to cut the entirety of Rohan? That’s the bit of the book I can never understand. The ice cream is very nice.

As the lights go up, Sam races after Frodo and berates his idiot upper-class master who thought he could do anything without him. They set out on their long journey, and from the other side of the stage, Pippin and Merry come charging in. They’ve already escaped from the orcs, as we really don’t have time for that. Pippin is confronted with her fear of trees. Entish is a very musical language which was beautiful to experience, and I think a far better rendition of trees talking than any realism could give. Musicians stood around the auditorium and plucked and strummed their discussion (Gimli was behind us drumming the plumbing).

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Saruman, meanwhile, directs a cool break dance number from the orcs. They’re going to crush Minas Tirith, and then Sauron will surely think Saruman is an ally, a massive victory for the Light.

The rest of the cliffhangers from act one get resolved in the next ten minutes. The three hunters can tell from the footprints that the hobbits are safe, so they race the breakdancing orcs to Minas Tirith. (No Rohan, I whisper to K). Aragorn demands an entrance to see the Steward (played by Bilbo, this company has one old wise man and one old father figure). The Steward is under Saruman’s spell! They call him Denethor but he’s serving Theoden’s role, with considerably less drama as it only takes Aragorn revealing himself as King to wake him up from the curse.

They agree to fight together to defeat Saruman! It’s another ensemble song and dance! Gandalf the White returns, and doesn’t come alone! The trees are marching! And Boromir’s actor is playing the trombone behind Denethor as he fights to defend their people, and that made me very emotional.

It’s Gollum time. Nearly naked bald man with full body dirt makeup scrambles around theatre and balcony, more news at 7. R seems unable to comprehend a theatre company having two bald men in it. This actor was so physical, my director brain was terrified of the risk assessments that must have been required for him to run along the balcony barrier.

Victory at the Pelennor Fields! TheoDenethor is slain, but the free peoples have won. They ride to Isengard. Saruman enters, and in a very dramatic and tense moment, I thought he greeted them with “Sup”. (Sadly it was actually “So”). Gandalf is sure that this will not be the end of Saruman’s mischief…

Frodo and Sam (and Gollum) are carrying on, but it’s hard going. They reminisce on the stories they used to listen to, and Sam gets out his guitar as they wonder what kind of story they’re in. Sam sings to Frodo, a reprise of Now and for Always from Mr. Bilbo, and his master tiredly joins in. He hasn’t smiled for days. “Tell us a story, of Frodo and the Ring”. Sam falls asleep, and it’s Frodo turn to sing about him - “no finer friend, now and for always”. Frodo doesn’t quite manage to finish the chorus before he falls asleep beside his Sam - but Gollum takes over in a horrifying corruption of their duet. It took me a while to realise it, but this Gollum’s voice reminds me of Voldemort from A Very Potter Musical - not at all a bad thing, but a specific niche of “very creepy and also pathetic”.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Aragorn is crowned, and receives the reforged sword. Together, the representatives of the free peoples plan to storm the Black Gates, in a hopeless battle - for Frodo. Smeagol/Gollum finally decides to lead them to Shelob, and Frodo trusts him. “Well,” Sam says, “let’s walk into Mordor.” Cackles from very small pockets of the audience.

Shelob is a REALLY COOL PUPPET. Sam manages to stab her with the LED Sting as he is seconds away from his doom. Galadriel empowers them with ballads from afar, but Frodo can barely walk. Sam takes the ring to try and relieve his burden, and Frodo doesn’t even notice. Gollum returns and swears he knew nothing about the giant spider, what giant spider? She wasn’t there last week!

Aragorn, in the B-plot of the musical (we realised afterwards that in the books, destroying the Ring and saving the world is the B-plot), gives a rousing speech to get everyone gearing up for a battle they’re all going to lose. Arwen (I think, or is it Galadriel, I’m writing this the day after and I’ve slightly lost the plot) calls to Aragorn and starts off the ensemble number "out of grief, joy".

Meanwhile, tension is rising in the Frodo-Sam-Gollum-Smeagol polycule. Everything will change, when they destroy the ring. “The elves, Sam, they’ll disappear - all of the magic will be gone out of the world. But if I take the ring!” No one can resist the ring. Gollum and Frodo speak and move as one as they condemn Sam as a traitor and a thief. At some point in all of this Frodo gets the Ring back, Sam runs away, Gollum attacks Frodo, Sam protects him, and Frodo wakes up enough to cast Gollum out instead. I’m very tired and can’t remember when this all happens, but it was all very emotional.

The free peoples fight, and they all dance and stand so differently you can tell which peoples they all are even without the height differences. Legolas shoots from on high, Gimli is rooted to the ground with wheeling axes, Aragorn just stabs so many orcs. Merry has his cello and uses the bow to attack, and Pippin has her accordion. We love Pippin. She’s here for moral support.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Sam and Frodo reach the top of Mount Doom and wrench open the backdrop doors. Sam can’t take another step and collapses behind Frodo as he tries once more to take it for himself - before Gollum appears. Gollum’s fall was beautiful and slow - he’s caught by black clad actors on a darkened stage and they gently let him down into the fire. And then it’s done.

The ensemble sings as Gandalf the White comes to save the two hobbits, and they reunite with their friends as Aragorn bows to the Shirefolk (and holds Frodo’s head so close that he re-awakened my inner Frodo/Aragorn shipper). Gandalf inexplicably says he’s off to have a chat with Tom Bombadil, who we had been ignoring, but that he’ll see Frodo again.

The hobbits return to the Shire, and Lobelia tells us Saruman has been there. We all have to work together to restore the Shire, including the audience - up you get, get outside and get LARPing again. We help the hobbits restore the battered garden to its former glory, and Rosie and Sam are married! Frodo never can return to the cheer he had at the beginning of this adventure. The actor had literally added eye bag makeup, I winced in sympathy when I saw him. Gandalf and the many elves of Middle Earth reach the Shire. They are going into the West. Frodo gives Sam the book in which to write their story. The hobbits do a very sad little dance jump greeting and Frodo hugs Sam tight, before he goes on his way towards the sails of the Grey Havens.

(Photo Watermill Theatre)

Rapturous applause! Everybody’s back on stage for a rousing final Cat and the Moon! Don’t worry about Frodo’s depression, we’ve got to sing a musical number for us all to go home to! My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell on my way through the park.

5 stars.

#lotr #lotr musical #lord of the rings #lord of the rings musical #watermill theatre #lotr fanart #tolkien #tolkien fanart

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 6 months

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More Bagginshield treats! Thank you @shantismurf for your request. I hope this meets your expectations. 🥰

Flower Crowns

Pairing: Bagginshield

Type of Treat: Sweet, Romantic Pining

Word Count: 717

“Are you sure about this, Cousin?” Siggy asked Bilbo, looking at their dwarven guest uncertainly. “He’s already turned down four flower crowns tonight. I don’t think he wants to be courted by a hobbit.”

Bilbo gripped the crown in his hand just a little bit tighter. He’s had the biggest crush on Prince Thorin, ever since he showed up at their grandparents’ smial to begin negotiations between Erebor and the Shire on behalf of the Ered Luin community. As the Baggins of Bag End, it had been necessary for Bilbo to attend the meetings, and he learned that Thorin was fair and just. He was eloquent, straight to the point, and he was also unfairly attractive with his dark curl locks and his piercing blue eyes. An assessment his fellow hobbits seemed to agree on as the doe-eyed looks and presentations of flowers seemed to suggest.

However, Bilbo was feeling unusually confident that with him it would be different. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but he thought they shared a moment the other day during their tea break. When Bilbo asked about Thorin’s travels, his Took side hung onto his every word, and Thorin promised to take Bilbo if he ever felt so inclined. It could just be a polite offer with no real meaning, but there was a look in Thorin’s eyes. A look that he kept pinning Bilbo with that made something warm and fuzzy settle in his bones.

Even now, Thorin would glance over at Bilbo from where he was sharing drinks with some of Bilbo’s Brandybuck relatives, and he would pin him with that same look. Bilbo took a deep breath.

“I have to try.” He declared to Siggy.

His cousin clapped him hard on the shoulder. “How unusually Took of you, Bilbo. I’m so proud! You go get that dwarven prince of yours!”

Bilbo gave him a smirk back, thankful for the pep talk as the steeled his courage and took a step forward. Just one more step. Just one more step. Bilbo continued his mantra until he was in front of Thorin who had excused himself to meet Bilbo halfway. Bilbo found himself tongue tied under those gorgeous blue eyes trying to recall the exact reason he came over here in the first place.

“It seems we meet again, Master Baggins.” Thorin spoke, his voice smooth and low pitched.

It was enough to send Bilbo’s knees knocking. He cleared his throat before extending his hands and the subsequent flower crown forward.

“Prince Thorin, I made you this crown in the hopes that you will accept my suit.”

Bilbo had cast his eyes downward, waiting for the inevitable decline only to receive no answer. Hesitantly, Bilbo raised his eyes again, only to find Thorin with a hand to his chin, regarding him with mock contemplation.

“I must confess I’ve turned down a few of these tonight, but I don’t quite know the full extent of the custom. Would you explain your craft to me, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo nodded before turning his eyes back to this creation.

“In the Shire, we court with flowers. A flower crown is made with the flowers or plants we recognize as being strengths of the other. Basically, we say ‘we know you well and want to crown you as such’.”

“So, your acorns and oak leaves say that I am ‘Oakenshield’. It’s more than what I have been acknowledged as so far, but does it mean you know me?” Thorin continued to tease.

Finally, feeling brave enough to look Thorin in the eye, Bilbo nodded. “Yes, because while that was the surface meaning I was going for, oaks have other meanings: honesty, strength, justice, and longevity in your rule. These are the things I have noticed about you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

For a moment, the smile slipped from his face and Thorin just stared at him. Bilbo started to worry that maybe he had made a mistake, and he didn’t know Thorin as well as he thought he did. The crown was plucked gently from his hands, and placed upon Thorin’s brow. Bilbo’s mouth dropped in awe at actually receiving this wondrous gift. Thorin leaned in and kissed him before Bilbo could do anything more embarrassing than that.

“It’s a good start. Let’s build on it together.”

Trick or treat my inbox.

#trick or treat my inbox #the hobbit #bagginshield #shire courting

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lucigoo · 1 month

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#FFF245 - You Never Cared, Why Start Now?

Pairing - Past Bilbo/Thorin Warnings - Suicide by fire, MCD Words - 752

Summary - It started with the fires burning through Erebor. It will end with the fires burning through Bag End. Prompt #245 @flashfictionfridayofficial A03 here

Bilbo looked around at his smial. It was empty, bereft of life. Even though he had gotten everything back, even though it was all in place, it was useless. This wasn’t his home. This wasn’t anyone’s home anymore.

His home was buried in a mountain. Still and silent. His chest no longer moving, his heart now longer beating, no longer able to love Bilbo.

And yes, Bilbo’s heart still beat, as sluggishly as it did so, but the tempo was all wrong. It was broken. Like the rest of him.

He sighed again as his cup of tea turned to ash in his mouth.

He had done his job as a burglar. He had done his duty as a free being of middle earth.

He had saved the dwarves of Erebor, got their home back, and then he had gone to Mordor and saved everyone else.

It was then, with the frantic knocking on his door, that he wondered WHY he had even bothered. Wondered if the small-minded beings he knew had even been worth saving.

Bilbo opened the door to, well, a mob. He looked out at his family and sighed. He didn’t have the energy for this, and he had warned them not to come too close to him. Until he felt better. If he ever felt better.

“What?” he asked sharply, exhausted already.

“You can’t stay in Bag End alone Bilbo,” the shrill voice of Lobelia called through, increasing the pounding in his head even more.

Bilbo couldn’t hold back his wince at her voice. He took a deep breath and looked at her, hand reaching behind the door for Sting, in case he needed to chase the group away. “I can, and I shall. I’m sick, Lobelia. Go away before the malice of Sauron infects you too,” he said.

He watched as the other hobbits muttered about him and his “stories” to one another, right in front of his face. Bilbo’s nose screwed up in disgust. What happened to at least pretending to have manners and talking behind people’s backs?.

“You’re not well Bilbo,” Lobelia said in a sickly sweet voice.

“I know I am unwell. I’ve just told you I’m sick. But it isn’t the kind of sickness you are insisting upon. My head and my marbles are fine. I also wrote a will before I left. It will stand and you will not get Bag End no matter what happens to me. Now go,” he ordered.

Lobelia stood there seething as she tried one last time with the hobbits backing her up. “Bilbo, I only care about your well being,” she started.

“Do not lie to me!” Bilbo roared. “You do not care. You never cared. Any of you. The few who did are not here. You only cared to get my home, my assets. Who cared when I was a faunt? Lost and alone? Who cared when I had to arrange my parents’ funeral alone? Who cared between then and now? None of you. You never cared. And now it is too late. Leave my smial!” he thundered before slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure.

Bilbo heard them leave, heard the grumblings. Heard how no one sane would deal with Mad Baggins. He was already dying, so what difference did it make how or when he died?

He waited for the evening and got everything ready. And then he dropped the torch. He waited in his living room, Sting in one hand, his mithril on his knee, Thorin’s travelling cloak around his shoulder and his map in front of him.

Bilbo then knelt with his favoured possessions around him as the fire soared, as the red flames spread. He held his acorn close and sent a prayer to Yavanna. He was already dying and his heart had been lost back in Erebor. His kith and kin despised him for being different. He had nothing left. His purpose, if he ever had one, was done. Now he just felt like an empty shell in the shape of a hobbit.

Maybe Yavanna would show him mercy and allow him to go to Thorin. Maybe they would have pity on one small, sad, lost little hobbit as he sat there and let the flames destroy him and his home.

In the morning, there was nothing left of Bag End or Bilbo, but ash and smoke. Bag End was gone and so was a remarkable hobbit who had managed to save everyone but himself.

#FFF245 #flash fiction friday #Bagginshield #Sad Bilbo #This one hurt

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notmycircusnotmysilmarils · 1 year

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Tolkien Secret Santa Advent Calendar Day 5: Yule Log

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

For the @officialtolkiensecretsanta !!!!

(Rated G)

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It is the crash coming from the main parlor that alerts Sam to the fact that he has visitors rather than his wife.

“Two for you in the front room, Mr. Gamgee”, she tells him, eyes twinkling.

Sam sighs, a strong hunch growing on exactly who she is speaking of, kisses her cheek, and goes to get his dressing robe.

Sure enough, waiting for him in the front room when he returns are Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took.

Merry is clumsily trying to re-right the toppled coat rack with one hand, other hand trying to juggle the fallen coats. Pippin is sat on the ground, watching the process with a tilted head, unlit pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth.

As Sam approaches the both of them, he can smell the mulled wine radiating off their beings.

Oh, dear.

“Alright, now what—”

“There he is, the man himself!” hoots Pippin, shooting to his feet and flinging himself directly into Sam’s arms. “Do we have an idea for you!”

Sam gives him a scolding shake, hardly effective what with Pippin currently being the consistency of a stocking full of pudding. “What you’ve had is too much to drink, I’d say! There are children sleeping in this smial—“

Merry gives up his fight with the coat rack, dropping both it and the coats back to the floor with another loud clatter.

Sam winces.

“Ah, yes, the little ones. Should we wake them to ask their opinions too?” Merry wonders.

“Ask your own!” Sam exclaims, marching across the room with his armful of Pippin to plop him into Merry’s arms in exchange for the coat rack. He rights it with a huff. “So what is it you two needed to tell me so badly you blew down my door at midnight?”

There is an exchange of glances between the pair.

“So, it’s about a contest,” Merry begins.

Sam slowly leans back against the wall. Sweet Eru, what drunken competition have they come up with—

“Specifically, the Yule Log contest coming up in Hobbiton in a few weeks.”

Now Sam’s just confused. “Er. Why, exactly? Your areas don’t even participate in the contest.”

Pippin flops out of Merry’s arms, catching himself wobbily on his feet. “Precisely. Which is why we are oh-so-generously sharing our prizewinning idea with you!” His hand not strongly gripping Merry’s shoulder for balance flails itself in Sam’s direction.

“I see,” Sam says drily. “That’s mighty generous of you, but to be honest, I don’t usually pay that particular competition much mind. Everyone trying their best to gussy up a plain old log with some berries flowers and ribbon is hardly an exciting tradition compared to contests for things like flowers or topiary or large gourds—“

Merry cuts him off again. “No, we get that, we definitely agree. That’s why our idea is better than some bits and boubles on a lump of wood.”

“Well go on and tell me, then!” Sam says. “All that swaying in anticipation is going to make you fall down before you can sit down.”

“Right,” the pair choruses in unison, their legs collapsing out from under them like cut string puppets and sending them to their rear ends with a thump. They do not, Sam observes, appear to have felt or even noticed a thing.

Merry claps his hands together and points his fingers at Sam like an arrow. “Treebeard.”

“Treebeard?” Sam echoes. “How does he fit into any of this? What, are you planning to go all the way to bother the Ents just for advice on silly Hobbit traditions?”

Pippin snaps his fingers. “Oh, ask him for advice, now that’s a good idea, Mer. He’s all wood, he’d know better than anyone how to dress it up fancy-like.”

“You’re right, we should have thought of that,” Merry muses, before turning his crooked grin back on Sam. “As good a guess as that is, though, it isn’t what we mean.”

Sam is starting to wonder whether their drunk brains even have a point they’re getting to or not. “What do you mean, then?”

“We mean, make your log Treebeard!” Merry says, shaking his hands and wiggling his fingers in excited emphasis.

“You want…” Sam blinks and shakes his head. He feels he can be forgiven, it is late, and they aren’t making sense. “You want me to dress my Yule log up as Treebeard?”

Pippin sighs dramatically. “No. We think you should invite Treebeard here to be your Yule Log.”

There truly can be no response to this besides: “What.”

“It’s a banging simple and brilliant plan!” Merry jumps in to add. “You don’t need to have him stand outside your yard for the entire holiday season like a regular decorated Yule Log or anything, how boring would that be?”

“But imagine!” Pippin continues. “Night of the contest judging comes around, everyone’s looking at the twenty ninth spruced up log of, uh, spruce? Maybe one or two birches or something in there for extra flavor. And then, then, out of the dark comes a giant, decked head to toe—er, root?—in ribbons and glass trinkets and colored paper that hasn’t gotten melted by rain! Some may argue cheating—“

“—But it won’t hold up, because an Ent is, in all technicality, a log, just a bit… bigger,” Merry finishes. “You’ll blow everyone’s holly and candles right out of the water!”

The pair are beaming at Sam like they’ve never had a more ingenious scheme in their life. Sam thinks…

“Huh. I, erm, I can’t say that’s what I was expecting to hear when you showed up tonight?” Sam hesitates before taking a breath and returning their clasped hands-fingers pointed gesture back at them. “That being said, I don’t really think that would… work?”

Pippin pouts at him. “Whyever not?”

“It’s just that, he’s never come to visit us before, right?” Sam asks. “Wouldn’t it be kind of rude to just be like, ‘Oh, do come and visit, you’d make the most perfect oversized lawn gnome?’”

“Oversized lawn gnome,” Pippin pshhes with a flap of his hand. “Hardly! Why can’t it be a lovely way to introduce him to our dear old culture full of rich traditions? Allowing him the honor of taking direct part would be the highest form of flattery!”

“Okay then, and you suppose he won’t have a problem with our practice of chunks of his tree relatives being hacked down and displayed for aesthetic purposes?” Sam counters.

Merry and Pippin share another look. “Just make sure everybody ethically sources their log this year,” Pippin suggests.

“Ethically sourcing?” Sam echoes, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Pippin says with a shrug. “Just make sure you’re taking the logs from already dead trees. You’ve got authority around here now, people might fuss but they’d agree to the rule if you asked.”

Sam crosses his arms. “Well then we’re just showing him how we disrespect the corpses of his relations!”

“Well if you want to be depressing about it…” Merry wrinkles his nose. “You’re not being very fun. Corpse disrespecting…”

“I guarantee when you’ve sobered up tomorrow, you won’t even remember the idea,” Sam tells them.

Pippin has managed to keep his pipe dangling out of his mouth the entire conversation, but now he takes it out to point it stubbornly at Sam. “I’ll write it down. He likes us, it would be great.”

Sam snorts. “Why can’t you both just host your own Yule Log events?”

Pippin shakes his head. “Took traditions run more the route of setting things on fire,” he says, like one of the primary purposes of logs aren’t exactly that.

Merry gives his cousin an odd side-eye. “Yeah, and Brandybucks have too many holiday contests as it is, what with the singing and the baking of pies, never mind our sacred duties to guard the life of our beloved decorative sculpture.” The side eye turns into a glare. “From arson.”

Pippin doesn’t even try to cover his smirk. “I don’t know what you could possibly be implying about my family’s cherished traditions, but I was talking about our bonfires. Look, I sympathize with your family’s misfortunes, I do! But I cannot help but point out—again—that if one makes a gigantic animal sculpture out of flammable material, they should expect something or someone to try and burn it down each year! Not that I would know who, of course but—“

“Oh I know, Pip, don’t rub it in,” Merry moans, leaning against Pippin’s shoulder. “Now that I have more responsibility, it’s fallen under my charge to protect it! Me!”

Pippin clumsily pats his shoulder. “Yes, yes, foxes and henhouses and all.”

Sam clears his throat. “Everything alright then, lads?” It’s cold outside and he hates to kick his friends out; drunk or no, he hasn’t seen them in a bit, and they never fail to bring that bright spark to make his heart lighter.

Pippin releases another theatrical sigh, bracing one hand against Merry’s nose to push himself to his feet. “Yes, I believe so. We failed to bring you enlightenment, so we should probably be going.”

Laughing, Sam helps Merry up and reaches for their coats amongst the righted coat rack. “I’ll let you try again if you switch and bring food instead. Just come back next time when the rest of the world is awake, understand?”

Merry rolls his eyes, reaching out and ruffling Sam’s hair before he can duck it. “I think we can manage that.”

Pippin darts forward and smacks an affectionate kiss on Sam’s cheek. “We sure can. What do we do now though, Merry?”

“Hmm,” Merry says as he walks through the opened door to the smial Pippin is holding for him. “Suppose we could go next door and see if Frodo likes our plan?”

The door closes.

Hang on…

“Absolutely not,” Sam declares, yanking a cloak that might actually be Rosie’s off the rack and scrambling out the door. “Don’t you dare, you two—!”

#tss2022 #tss2022advent5 #tolkien #lotr #the lord of the rings #samwise gamgee #pippin took #merry brandybuck #my writing #ahhh hope y’all like it!#my very greatest regret is that i couldn’t figure out how to add frodo to this fic i love him so very much but alas ;_;#in here you will find hints of my original idea for this prompt which was ‘give the noldor the galvebocken’#fuck tho sorry for posting late i set it to post on time but i wake up and It Had Not Posted we stan technology yes we do

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magpiecaranthir · 1 year

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There is a question eating at my mind: how would Tinwë react to Maglor’s version of Old Maggie Took? I’d die for a crossover of the two…

And because my sleep deprived brain likes to come up with weird questions at night, how would she feels toward to my cabbage patch elflings? I already have a few headcanons but I am interested in what you think.

OH OH OH Its gonna be a really long one so under the cut (you gave me an idea and I might as well write a whole fucking fic now bc I couldnt stop lol) ^^

Ok so first how Tinwe would react to Old Maggie?

Ok so in OWWSAF we put it in a tiny paragraph that Maglor died, right? So by all means tinwe doesnt think she'll see her big brother again. But then if we screw the timeline a bit to make it so that she's in Imladris when he and Liló go there for the first time, Lindir recognizes Maglor.

And how would Tinwe react to your Cabbage Patch elflings??

Of course he does. He sometimes watches tinwe paint when she's in the valley and he watched her more than once sketch that face. Even if lindir wouldnt be the one to recognise Maglor, Erestor would. Or anyone else left of the formerly feanorian host. And BOI they would not know what to do.

On one hand, they now have the thrice kinslayer who suddenly popped up from... the shire??? With a toddler????

On the other they have a (known to react very harshly) wife of the captain of the guard who does not speak of her family to others unless it's to remind them that they were the ones holding the North, not the Sindar of Doriath.

By the time the people who realize that problem decide to keep their mouths shut and pray ecthelion has the sense to keep tinwe away from everyone else until Maglor disappears again, Tinwe gets found by Liló.

Of course she does.

And Liló is just a baby but shes a smart baby who remembers the bedtime story Maglor told her about his siblings and she remembers he had a little sister with white hair and lilo obviously is convinced tinwe is that sister (even if she werent, lilo equals white haired elf to Maglor's sister).

So LILO drags tinwe to 'her ada'.

Tinwe sees Maglor.

Tinwe calmly asks for lilo to go play somewhere else. Everybody knows what's coming. Ecthelion manages to get the concealed daggers off tinwe before she charges at that mf and throws him on the ground in a chokehold.

Screaming. Blaming. Absolute guilt tripping and gaslighting on her part (she's going to feel bad about it later bc that's her big brother she has her big brother back maglors there he can cuddle her shes not the last- but first she's getting her anger out. He left her alone. And got a fucking perfect life with a BABY!

She's not going to stop being hostile towards him, but she's doing it lowkey like just occasionally mentioning she got tortured for Celebrimbor while Maglor was doing fuck-all and that's why her hands tremble every so often, or how she has been keeping the dunlendings safe while Maglor was having tea partys (her coming clean about Caranthir and haley's marriage is a WHOLE other conversation they're having at some point) but she's only doing that when lilo isnt around.

She's sweet with lilo. She's a baby. She's cute. Tinwe is a sucker for babies just like she was with Lindir. Teaches lilo how to paint. Encourages lilo to paint on everything in Maglor's smial.

It takes a few years of tinwe coming to terms with Maglor being alive, but the hostility ceases bc that's her only family left that's her big brother he knows her and loves her even in her anger and Big emotions and she doesnt want to lose him again

When she's over it, she goes to the Shire with ecthelion. He says it's to make sure she doesnt get harmed on the way there, but they both know it's because he wants to see that shit for himself.

Oh god she would just flop over like Maglor did. Like what the fuck?? Faint of disbelief. Why the fuck do babies grow like that???

And the second shes digested that change of her reality, ecthelion's just casually like "so... remember how we have a very nice garden?"

And yeah tinwe is hesitant because Doom and shit, but pls she always wanted to be a mum. She always wanted babies and she wanted them with ecthelion.

So yeah. They plant a baby. So what.

While their bby grows she is absolutely doting on the double twins from Elladan and elrohir. Just stealing one or two away for a day or two or five bc they are babies they are so cute 🥺

She's also the first ti see the signs of their neurodicergence bc she's nd herself and remembers well the struggle it was growing up and e.g. not understanding why you wanted to rip the pretty dress auntie Allen gifted you off your back while you're crying so hard you cant speak (hint: the fabric was capital b Bad). So she just starts getting accommodations and dropping hints about how others can deal with these things when she notices them

Their own bby gets born (hatches? Gets harvested?) And of fucking course its twins. Twins with white hair, too, bc tinwes genes bullied Ecthelion's into submission lol.

#ask box #deadqueernoldor's ask box

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aikoiya · 1 year

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LoL HC - Craobhert

Do we know anything about that island continent to the west of Freljord?

The island continent in the red box to the far left.

If no one wants it, I'm claiming it for the Gaelics!

It's name shall be Craobhert (kroov-hurt), translates to tree heart.

The island is densely forested.

I know that at least one landmark there will be called Coillehert (co-lee-eh-hurt) or heart of the forest.

The original inhabitants of the island were mainly humans, Fae Fauns, Faeries, native Spirits, & a handful of half-dragons ruled by a pair of extremely old elder dragons. One large & red, the other one extremely long & green. (References to the red dragon from Merlin's vision that he associated with the British, the Welsh dragon, & the British legend about the Wyrm of Linton.)

There was also a race there that you can't really find anywhere else on Runeterra; Gargoyles. Anyone who's watched the show Gargoyles knows that they are a magical nocturnal race of guardians that turn to stone in the day. They are a deeply loyal & protective race, stalwart by nature.

The dragon elders are basically a sweet, old married couple, their hatchlings long moved on, though their half-dragon grandchildren remained close. They lived there because they'd gotten tired of modern dragon society's tendency towards arrogance & pride.

A couple hundred years back, immigrants from Ionia & Freljord came there for a new life. Upon these 2 different groups of poor people arriving at their home, the dragon elders felt sorry for them. They were welcome so long as they lived in harmony with the island's spirits & protected nature there.

Because the native culture was the way it was (a mix of Scottish & Irish culture with maybe a bit of Welsh in there too, thus being deeply magical & in tune with nature like Ionia, but also stalwart & hearty like Freljord), the new residents found it easy to integrate into this new society. Native Craobhertians struck a strict balance between nature & progress, making sure to give back more than is taken.

They are a very druidic society, so the few Spirit Walker Shamans that moved there found it relatively easy to get along with them.

The most common elemental magics there are nature, then wind, followed by water, & finally earth. There are other elements too, but these are the most common.

Craobhert's nature magicborn builders & architects tend to make houses by controlling the wood of trees to shape buildings without hurting the trees. Similarly to how the Elves from the Inheritance series makes their buildings, but with Gaelic design. This doesn't mean that there's no woodwork, construction, or carpentry, but they as a culture do try to leave as little of a negative impact on nature as they can manage. Because of this, the island's magic treats them well.

There are a lot of hobbit-y houses & smials in Croabhert.

It's also common for nature druids who enjoy art to practice their craft on the trees to create beautiful vinework Celtic knot imagery.

Similarly, earth magicborn builders tend to make homes of stone.

They tend to have an extremely circle of life sort of philosophy with a strong hunter subculture (because the best hunters are the ones who have their thumb on the pulse of ecology). They respect nature because they know it can be both incredibly beautiful & devastatingly cruel. Poachers are one of the most dishonorable things you can be there & are dealt with harshly.

Again, the country emulates a mix of Irish, Scottish, & Welsh traditions.

As a result of the immigration, Craobhert's population is now a mix of humans, Vastayans, Fae Fauns, Faeries, Luonn Kon, Nixies, Treants (some of the last uncorrupted by the Ruination), Frost-Trolls, Yetis, Spirits, Gargoyles, & some Vastayashai'rei (not many).

However, due to tensions between Ionia & Freljord, small factions of Craob-Jordians & Craob-Ionians have started to feud. The groups are small, but they've been causing unrest in the community.

Coillehert is Craobhert's capitol. It's an enormous tree that acts much like the Home Tree from Avatar, housing an entire city within it's branches.

Here's a good idea of how it looks on the inside:

I basically saw this unnamed island between Freljord & Ionia & said "mine now. This is a hostile takeover."

Arcane Masterlist

#league of legends #worldbuilding #craobhurt #new country #ionia #freljord #lets see if I can get this to stick #arcane

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asgardianhobbit98 · 2 years

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Thorin / Bilbo - 'Adventure'

Day 18 of 28 days of fluff is here! Today’s prompt for ‘defining word for their relationship’ is in terms of Bagginshield – ‘adventure’. I thought it was fitting considering how they met to begin with. This challenge is hosted by the Keissekon server - I tend not to crosspost but just alert people to the fact I've written something - however, I figured I'd do it like this today... Just... had the time for it XD For my full list of entries go here. To read this story on Ao3 instead go here.

Pairing: Thorin / Bilbo Summary: Thorin and Bilbo’s life is like a new adventure every day. This particular day turned… a little more adventurous than others though when they spot something that’s not supposed to be in their kitchen. Note: This is set after the movies, with everyone alive because uh that’s what Tolkien wrote idk what you’re talking about…

Thorin Oakenshield had faced Azog the Defiler multiple times. He had survived a dragon’s attack. He had led armies to win back Moria, he had led his people to the Blue Mountains to settle down, he had led the company to Erebor, defeated a dragon (kind of), survived the Battle of Five Armies (kind of), rebuilt Erebor for his nephew to take over…

Thorin Oakenshield was a king, a warrior, a hero.

Bilbo Baggins was a hero himself. He had faced things no hobbit could even dream about, seen things of the world no hobbit knew existed, and had been chosen by a dwarf king to be his One.

Both knew how to handle a sword, one better than the other…

And yet, married life was the biggest adventure both had endured. Each day brought something new. A new routine. A new argument. A new trait to love. A new secret. A new night of passion. It was an adventure one couldn’t get bored of. Ever.

But it also brought its perils.

Although, Thorin would never utter the word ‘peril’ in relation to this incident in front of his fellow kin… They would certainly laugh at him.

That particular day, their adventure started early in the morning.

And lasted well into the afternoon, as embarrassing as it was…

Thorin had entered the kitchen to the sweet smell of tea brewing on the hearth. Bilbo was already awake, wearing his morning robe and offering Thorin a smile. They reached out to each other to hug, as they did each morning –

Only to be interrupted by a mouse.

It ran across the floor, past both of their feet, and scurried into a cupboard, squeezing itself in without an issue.

“Get it! That’s where the cookies are!”

Cookies were very important to hobbits. All food was, actually, and if there was one thing that Thorin had assimilated from his time in Hobbiton, it was the passionate desire to protect their food storage.

So of course, both had dashed across the kitchen toward the cupboard, opening it in time to see the mouse scurry up and into a little hole, out of view.

“Blast it!” exclaimed Bilbo, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I will not let mice live in my home. No thank you! Before you know it there’s holes in your cheese you didn’t remember were there, and suddenly the cookies you wanted to give your neighbour are gone. This is not proper of a smial! And certainly not of this hobbit’s smial.”

Thorin agreed with a hum, narrowing his eye at the hole. “They’re behind the cupboards.”

“What do you mean they!?”

Thorin offered an apologetic look to the hobbit. “I highly doubt there is just the one mouse. They… fornicate quickly.”

Bilbo’s nostrils flared. “They’ve been fornicating in my house!?”

Despite the extremely annoyed look in the hobbit’s face, Thorin had to let out a chuckle at this. But he was quick to raise an apologetic hand when Bilbo’s angry look turned to him.

“Let’s set out a trap.”

As pathetic as it sounded… the former king of Erebor and Bilbo Baggins of Bag-end sat perched on a table, staring at the trap they’d made of cheese, crackers, and bread. Thorin held a little string in his hand, which was attached to the ceiling, twirled around a hook meant for a lamp. From there it led down to a little, tiny makeshift cage, dangling over the food. If the mouse came out to get the food, Thorin would let go of the trap and catch the creature.

Hopefully.

It was a bad idea.

But what else could they do?

Live with the mouse (or mice)? Absolutely not. That went against everything Bilbo believed in.

So, for hours, the two sat on that table, staring at the food in wait for their prey. It was a tense job. Bilbo snuck away only once to get them some snacks, making sure he was as light on his feet as a hobbit could be.

Sometime in the afternoon, something moved in their peripheral view. Both watched in anticipation as the mouse appeared, sniffing the air to check if it was safe.

It wasn’t dumb. It noticed Thorin and Bilbo on the table. And for a while, the three had a stare-off. The mouse didn’t move a single muscle, trying to ascertain whether this was dangerous or not.

But the food was right there…

And it looked delicious.

Bilbo and Thorin held their breaths as the mouse started moving closer to the food, first hesitantly, watching to see whether the two large creatures would do something threatening… but when they only sat still, the mouse kept moving. And moving. And moving.

Until it finally reached the food, beginning to sniff the cheese, nibbling slightly on it.

Bilbo waited just a few seconds, to make sure the mouse was distracted by the food, before he shouted out for Thorin to let go. The dwarf, shocked by Bilbo’s demanding enthusiasm more than listening to the command, let go of the string.

The trap dropped, both watching with wide, hopeful eyes, as it fell down… and trapped the mouse.

The creature squeaked in fear, trying to climb out, push out – anything. But it was trapped.

“Ha!” exclaimed Bilbo in victory, jumping down from the table. “No mouse gets to live in my hobbit hole without consequence.”

“Our hobbit hole.” Thorin shook his head in amusement as he stepped down from the table.

“Yes yes, our hobbit hole, of course.” That hadn’t sounded very convincing, and Thorin only rolled his eyes, not taking it personally.

“Now…” Bilbo crouched down to look at the mouse through the cage. The creature sat curled up in fear in a corner, breathing so heavily and heart pounding so hard that its entire body was shaking along with each heartbeat. Bilbo’s demeanour softened. “You know… We could let you roam freely in the Sackville-Baggins’ home-“

“Bilbo,” warned Thorin, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Alright then…” Bilbo sighed, genuinely a little upset he couldn’t go through with his evil plan. “Let’s find you a nice corn field.”

Every day brought them a new adventure as a married couple. Luckily, they handled other adventures a little better than this mouse.

#the hobbit #bagginshield #tolkien #lord of the rings #thorin #bilbo #thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bag end #mice #adventure #my tolkien writing

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lordoftherazzles · 3 years

Text

HAPPY HOBBIT DAY ↳ NOW ON AO3!

It’s September 22 and I wanted to do something a little special for Hobbit Day! As well as the birthdays of some of my favorite characters. You can find the full piece below as well as on ao3! Enjoy some Parentshield!

→ Check out the artwork @stardryad did for this piece!

Translation(s) - amrâlimê: my love - mizimith: jewel that is young

“Don’t touch the pan over there, it’s still hot,” Thorin warned, sounding about as parental as possible. It was the warning tone that was used against many youngins in their life. Frodo was a good lad though and he often listened when spoken to. It was a breath of fresh air in comparison to how it had been raising Fili and Kili.

Thorin was focusing on the few sheets of sponge that had been pulled from the oven. He might not have been the best cook in all of Arda, but he did know his way around sweets once in a while. His tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration while laying down a layer of frosting, and then another layer of dark chocolate sponge cake.

Food was praised in the Shire, and if Thorin had it his way he’d likely say it was worshipped to a degree. What better way to ring in a set of birthdays than with a cake? Sure, hobbit customs were different as far as giving and receiving gifts went, but Thorin had gotten over that. This was just as much for him as it was for Bilbo and Frodo.

Thorin certainly liked his sweets.

“When can we have a piece, Uncle Thorin?” Frodo’s big blue eyes stared up towards the concentrating dwarf, looking about as hopeful as ever at the idea of getting to chow down on this grand thing that Thorin had been slaving over all morning.

“Later today, once Bilbo gets back.” It should be done by then, Bilbo had said he would be out a few hours at most, and that was the perfect amount of time to get a surprise cake baked. “What do you think so far?”

A little fauntling finger poked at the frosting-covered sponge before promptly sticking that finger in his mouth. Frodo hummed with delight. “Much better than your last attempt at using the oven.”

Thorin sighed a little, eyes narrowing but knowing that Frodo was correct. Thorin wasn’t the best at cooking, but it would be nice if everyone got over that little fact. He had picked up on some tips and tricks from Bilbo over time, so it wasn’t as if the smial was in grave danger anytime the dwarf tried to cook! Not anymore, at least.

“He’ll like the blue!” Frodo announced as he bounced a bit to try and see over the counter some more. “I like the green.” Frodo was picked up carefully and held at Thorin’s side, allowing the faunt to see the cake a little bit more clearly from his angle.

“Good, because it is for you both, you realize. You share the same birthday and I’d be ashamed to ignore that.” His two favorite fellas celebrating their birthday. Pressing a kiss to the side of Frodo’s head before putting him down, Thorin dusted off his hands and began to pick things up. “Now be sure to wash your hands, I’ll clean things up in here.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Frodo was already getting his hands wiped up and ready to leave a mess of flour and sugar in Thorin’s very capable hands.

----------

“Uncle Bilbo, what are you doing?” Frodo asked curiously, yet again trying to peer over the counter, but this time he wasn’t staring at any chocolate sponge and frosting.

“Blueberry tarts, they’re one of Thorin’s favorites.”

“Yes, but what for?” The little lad certainly was a curious sort, but Thorin had already slaved away over a cake earlier, and now Bilbo was making tarts? Were they to be having a meal of desserts only? Those bright blues grew wider at that thought. “Uncle Thorin already made a cake-”

“I know, I saw, and it looks wonderful. Have you ever asked Thorin when his birthday is?”

Frodo hadn’t been in Bag End for very long. Drogo and Primula had passed only a few months prior, and so some things were still fairly new to the lad.

“No, do you want me to? He’s napping though, might not appreciate me waking him up.” Both hobbits cast a glance towards the exit of the kitchen. Thorin occasionally fell asleep in the sitting room across that loveseat. It was best to leave a sleeping bear be.

“It’s today as well, my boy.” Bilbo couldn’t help the grin on his face as he replicated what Thorin had done earlier. He lifted Frodo to better gaze at a series of unbaked blueberry tarts. “They look good, don’t they?”

“Mhm!”

But it was at that very moment that something struck Frodo and made his stomach turn in knots as soon as he was placed back on the ground. “Uncle Bilbo?”

“Yes?”

“If Thorin made us a cake, and you made him and me the tarts...I don’t have anything to give either of you!” Frodo’s small hands pressed against his cheeks worriedly, his cheeks flushing something fierce and distress forming in those big blue eyes of his. “...I am a bad hobbit!”

“No, no, no, you most certainly are not.” Bilbo dropped down so that he was at eye level with the small fauntling who was about two heartbeats away from having a meltdown. “You don’t have to get either of us anything, Frodo. You’re still young, it’s not necessary. Just your love is enough, I promise.” Ruffling those dark curls and dabbing a handkerchief beneath Frodo’s eyes, Bilbo was at least a little satisfied that those flushed cheeks had started to dim.

Frodo, despite his anxious little feelings, was determined as all get out now to do something before the day was done. There was still plenty of daylight left for him to conjure up something. It might not be edible, but gifts were gifts, it was the thought that counted.

“Uncle Bilbo, can I go outside and play? I won’t go far.”

“Just be back before sundown, that’s all I ask.”

“Thanks!” And like earlier, Frodo was more than content in leaving a mess behind - after all, he had some gifts to wrangle up.

----------

Frodo scuffed his heel against the grass he had been walking through, a thoughtful look across his face as he rubbed his hands together. “But what kind of gift could I even give them, Sam? I don’t have money to buy anything…”

“Oh, I don’t know Mister Frodo. Ma might let you take one of her pies if you want!” Samwise offered up cheerfully, sitting in the grass and just watching his friend pace back and forth. Frodo truly looked distressed. “Or you could try making something yourself?”

“Like what?”

“If it were me, I guess...I’d pick something simple. Ma and Pa still have some of my drawings hanging around! What’s something you like to do, Mister Frodo?” Sam was twisting a few blades of grass together, but ultimately his eyes remained on his friend.

It gave Frodo a bit of inspiration. Snapping his fingers and reaching to offer Sam a hand to get to his feet, Frodo had an idea smack him nearly in the face. “That’s it, Sam! I’ve got it, and I need your help.”

“We’re not going through Farmer Maggot’s crops again-”

“No, no, not that. Flowers! Uncle Bilbo loves flowers, and I know Uncle Thorin likes them because he often gives them to Bilbo. That’s what I’m going to get them.” And not just any flowers, some delicately weaved flowers if Frodo had it his way.

“Pa won’t mind if you want to take a few from our garden. He has some colorful blooms still before the cold strikes!” Sam was on his feet and both young fauntlings were as eager as ever to work on Frodo’s surprise gift for his uncles. Sam practically dragged Frodo behind him as they headed towards a familiar smial with a bright yellow door.

Leave it Samwise to come up with the most excellent of ideas - Frodo hoped that never changed.

----------

“If I eat another bite I may explode,” Thorin declared with a sigh, rubbing at his full stomach and looking as content as content could be.

“So no tarts for you then, hm?” Bilbo teased, a tray of those baked blueberry tarts sitting on top of them. Two eager hands moved and grabbed a tart each - one from Thorin and one from Frodo. “That’s what I thought, and save room for cake.”

Just the very thought of more food almost had Thorin groaning in agony, but he wasn’t going to turn away birthday treats if he could help it. He just might suffer an aching stomach later.

Eating in silence was easy. All three of the birthday boys were so focused on their treats and enjoying them - and the fact that Bilbo was letting them sit out of the dining room and in the sitting room instead? A treat in itself right there!

Frodo had snarfed his way through half a tart before he was hopping up from his seat between Thorin and Bilbo. “Wait!” Setting his plate aside and darting out of the room, he left his uncles to simply exchange worried looks.

“Is he okay?”

“Ah, he was a little upset earlier about this whole birthday thing. We hobbits give gifts as you well know and he didn’t have anything-”

“I do!” Frodo announced as he stood in the entryway, a few loops of flowers in his hands as he wandered back over and started to hand them out. They were small and delicate but weaved to perfection. You’d never guess a little fauntling had managed to tie together such beautiful flower crowns. “You can’t eat them, but if you wear them, it’s a sign to everyone that it’s your birthday.” Which Frodo made up on the spot.

Two more plates were set aside, both Thorin and Bilbo reaching for their designated gifts as Frodo placed one atop his own head, looking proud as ever.

“Frodo, these are wonderful. You did them yourself?” Thorin asked, carefully moving to place the circle of flowers he’d been gifted atop his head.

“Sam helped, but yeah! He helped me pick out the colors and tie the ends together.” Frodo blushed a bit, happy to see his simple gift as being well perceived. Climbing back onto the loveseat between his uncles, Frodo was happy to be wedged between them both, all three of them sporting their flower crowns and eating sugary sweets that were a must on any birthday. “I’m glad you like them. I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to give either of you. I wanted to show you how much I...I appreciate you taking care of me since ma and pa…” Died.

Frodo rubbed at his eyes some but as silence remained around him, the fauntling grew curious. First, he looked to his right at Thorin, who seemed to be looking at Bilbo. Then Frodo looked to his left at Bilbo who was looking at Thorin. The two adults seemed to share a mischievous look, which had Frodo’s cheeks puffing out in annoyance. “What?”

“Should we?” Bilbo asked, sounding a tad on the dramatic side.

“I think we should.” Thorin agreed.

The top of Frodo’s head was suddenly attacked with ruffles and kisses and anything to get him to laugh and squeal and sound as delighted as any youngster should on their birthday. Fingers were poking at him in ticklish spots and the fauntling wheezed in laughter as he scrambled but ultimately found himself locked in one of Thorin’s arms and his belly being poked by Bilbo.

It wore the poor fauntling out to the point of opting to snooze against Thorin, remaining wedged next to Bilbo as well.

This first birthday without Drogo and Primula would have been a lot harder to face had Thorin and Bilbo not cared as much as they did. Frodo would be forever grateful to them and was happy to have them as his guardians.

“Happy birthday, amrâlimê,” Thorin murmured to the side as he ducked his nose into Bilbo’s curls, earning a soft hum in response. Keeping an arm around Frodo as well, Thorin let his eyes sink closed. “Happy birthday, mizimith.”

“Happy birthday, Thorin,” The two hobbits murmured in unison, through the thick of exhaustion, and just opted to remain right where they were in the safety of Thorin’s arms with flower crowns atop their heads.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #bagginshield #thilbo #parentshield #hobbit fic #hobbit fanfic #bagginshield fic #HAPPY HOBBIT DAY #hobbitday #razzywrites

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shiinata-library · 2 years

Text

A comfortable armchair

Relationships: Bilbo x You (Modern girl in Middle Earth)

Content: Rated E - Fluff, smut, misunderstandings and an armchair

Summary: You want more than to hold hands and kiss Bilbo, and tonight you will let him know.

On AO3

Note: I wrote directly in English (and I'm not english), so I’m sorry for the mistake.

“Today is the day!” you think as you stand before the green door of Bilbo's smial, clenching your fist with conviction.

The light spring wind caresses your hair and blows on your dress. Today, you wear your favourite dress, you did your favourite hairstyle, and you chose to wear your favourite undergarments. Today is the day you ask Bilbo to go further in your relationship.

Bilbo and you are courting for some time. Your sweet hobbit knows almost everything about you; like you come from another world, where you were a human, not a hobbit as you have been since you arrived in Middle-earth. He knows almost everything, except you want more than kissing and holding hands.

He is very polite and considerate, so you can’t listen to your former human instincts. Hobbits don’t do that, right? Did they wait for the wedding? In truth, you don’t know Hobbit’s customs as you should. You are in Middle-Earth for many months, even years, but it’s not something you could ask anyone…

Plus, it was you who asked Bilbo to court him. He accepted gladly and your relationship is very good, but sometimes you wonder if he really loves you or if he doesn’t finally see you as a friend.

“Today is the good day, and tomorrow you will wake up in his bed!” you tell yourself one last time before knocking on his wooden door.

You thought of today for two weeks, so it will be fine, right?

As you had planned the day with Bilbo, you spend it on the paths of the Shire. A long, peaceful hike together with a picnic for lunch. You love walking in the Shire. It’s a shame you don’t have your camera, but Bilbo’s company is nice, and he always has something to teach you.

We all agree to say you can’t jump on him in the wild and traumatise the sweet hobbit, so you wait the night, like you had planned.

The dinner was delicious, as was all of Bilbo's cooking, and now, comfortably seated in an armchair, you are reading a book you borrowed him from his library. Bilbo does the same, quiet and comfortably seated. The fireplace is warm, and you just finished your tea. You are so stupidly absorbed by your book that you don't notice the time.

It's when the night is totally dark you realise you forgot everything you had planned. Closing your book suddenly makes a louder sound than you thought. It even makes Bilbo jump on his armchair. Fortunately, he doesn't have his tea in his hands.

“Bilbo, we need to talk,” you say as you put your book on the nearest support.

As you are searching for your words, you feel Bilbo's eyes on you. Well, it's hard to find the good words now you are in front of him, and even if you stare at the flames of the fireplace, they won't help you. As for Bilbo, he is looking silently with attention, and a little of apprehension. Seeing you silent, he decides to start with a hesitant voice.

“Hm, (Y/N), I'm listening to you. You can tell me everything. You know it, don’t you?” he says, nodding firmely.

You turn to him with troubled eyes. Bilbo’s expressions change quickly. He frowns first, then his eyes are surprised, and he ends up looking at you embarrassingly. You thought of this for days but now, you are frozen. Thanks to the darkness of the room, Bilbo can’t see your blushed cheeks. Well, you hope.

“Hm, Bilbo… I want to ask you something…”

Then, you freeze once again. You stupidly freeze once again, until Bilbo’s hand makes you jump when he touches yours. Your armchairs are so close that you could almost read his book when he is sitting next to you. Looking at his soft hand on yours, you can’t help but sigh. Where is your courage ?

“What is it? If, hm, if I do something I shouldn’t, please tell me… I don’t want you to be angry with me…” “N-no! It’s not something you do… and I’m not angry,” you whisper as you raise your eyes to his.

Bilbo stares at you, wiggling his cute nose like a rabbit. Even if the situation is tense, you can’t help but laugh before his puzzled face.

“I’m reassured you laugh. For a few minutes, I thought you wanted to stop our courting… I’m truly reassured…” “W-what?” you shout, rising from your armchair. “No! Of course not! I-I thought YOU wanted to stop!” “I-I beg your pardon?!” he says with his too polite tone you find irresistible.

Motionless in his armchair, his eyes stare at you as you slowly walk to him. In front of him, your big hairy feet find a place between his.

“You already know I don’t come from here, and hobbit’s customs are not my things… and… hm…” “I know, and that’s why I love you. Oh, not just because of this, of course!” he says gently, taking your hands before him. “I thought you already knew it. Come on my lap.”

His smile has returned. He doesn’t have to say more for you to sit on his lap, your two legs hanging on his right. Despite your big feet, you are a small hobbit, you easily fit on his lap. While one of his hands slides around your waist, his other one finds yours laying on your thighs.

“It’s not evident, you know,” you say with a pouting face. “We’re courting for a while and you’re not the kind to show your feelings. I know you appreciate my presence, but I don’t know if you truly, hm, love me.”

Your cheeks are more and more red, and Bilbo can see it now. He laughs lightly before speaking.

“It's the same for me,” he says, smiling and caressing your hand. “I never know what you think. I know a lot about Hobbits, I learned some Dwarfs’ customs, but I don't know much about humans, even less from your world.” “Alright, but I asked you to court you, so you know my feelings for you. And, hm, I wasn’t sure you love me…”

Bilbo lets go of your hands to gently caress your cheek. Seeing him smile, your heart feels lighter.

“You asked me right before I wanted to. Now, will you get closer to me so that I can kiss, or should I wait for you to stop blushing?” “Hey! Usually, it's me who teases you!” you say, laughing and tapping on his shoulder.

Bilbo’s lips are always soft and sweet. Tea, biscuit, cake, fruits, they are always delicious. And now, you devour them. As you kiss him, you run your hand in his curly silky hair. He responds immediately to your lips, and you feel his hand grab firmly your waist.

You like when he touches you, and now you want more. Light moans echo in the room until you break the kiss to position yourself in a better way. After rising from his lap, you come back to him, but this time you straddle him on his armchair. If you aren't so quick, you could have seen his embarrassed face, but you couldn’t wait to taste his sweet lips again. As your hands grab his shirt, his find your hips. You don’t press your chest against him, yet but you try to make him understand you want more than his lips. As you lick his lips, he finally opens his mouth, and you can taste his tongue.

Your kiss deepens and you feel Bilbo’s hands hesitating to lower. His fingers run from top to bottom of your back again and again. “You can touch everything you want,” you whisper between kisses. As he ends up touching your buttocks ─ grabbing firmly are more appropriate words, you moan before losing your balance and falling on his chest. Your head is burying in his neck, and you can’t help but laugh.

Bilbo stops touching you immediately, not knowing how to react. When you lift your head, your smile reassures him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, putting his hands on your waist. “Of course not, idiot! You just surprised me! You’re stronger than I thought,” you reply, laughing lightly.

His smile comes back but it isn’t as sweet and adorable as usual. Here, Bilbo smiles at you with desire. You start to caress his pink cheeks again. Just before you lean to kiss him, he grabs your shoulder and stops you. Surprised by his sudden gesture, you look at him worried. Why did he stop you? Doesn't he like this? Did you scare him? Many questions run in your head before Bilbo starts to speak.

“Hm, s-so, what did you want to ask me? Before we got, hm, carry away?” he stammers, trying to calm himself even so. “What do I want?” you ask with a confident voice and a mischievous smile as you come closer to him. “What I want, Mr. Baggins, it’s this.”

As you talk, your hand lowers until it touches the bulge in his trousers. The one you felt growing when you kissed him. Your touch makes him jump at first, but when you start to stroke him, he has difficulty holding his moans. His head falls backwards, and you see him biting his upper lips and his eyes having trouble staying open.

Glad to see the effect you have on him, your heart beats faster and you feel your heat between your thighs increase. How can he let his neck be so available, so defenceless? After removing your hand from his trousers, you come closer to him, glued against his chest, and your lips start to kiss from his neck to his pointed ear.

Bilbo can’t contain his moans, even his lower body to softly roll his hips. One of his hands finds back your buttocks as his other one removes a part of the top of your sleeve.

“I wanted it… for so long…” he whimpers as he kisses your shoulder. “Me too…” you try to say, his wet tongue makes you shiver. “I waited for so… so long…”

When you finish speaking, Bilbo’s head raises suddenly. His quick movement surprises you, and you move away from his chest. He looks at you with the same puzzled eyes as you.

“What? Why did you stop?” you finally say, frowning. “Why did you wait for so long if you wanted it?” he asks. “B-because I was not sure of your feelings. Bilbo, it’s embarrassing! You can’t ask me something like that! Why did YOU wait?” “Wha-what are you saying? I-I can’t touch you if you don’t start! It’s not proper!”

His attitude is strange. Well, stranger than usual. He seems genuinely troubled by your question.

“Wait. Don’t tell me it’s always the female hobbits who start it?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “O-obviously! Why do you look at me so strangely? Oh… You didn’t know, did you? Hm, a male hobbit never touches a female before she does it or she clearly says she wants it. I-I thought it was universal…”

You could have waited a long time… But how he explains it, it’s kind of cute.

“N-no I didn’t know. Where I come from… Humans work differently…” you sigh, relieved about it. “It was a torture, Bilbo! I thought you didn't want me!” “Don’t get angry with me! I thought the same!”

You wanted to tap on his chest to release your frustration, but you finally laughed. And Bilbo follows you. One of his hands finds your cheek and caresses it gently.

“I love your sweet cheeks,” he says as his thumb lowers to brush your lips. “And even more you lips… And I’m sorry if you thought I don’t love you because it’s wrong. Totally wrong. Trust me, I, hm, I can’t stop thinking of you when you don’t with me. A-and as you didn’t ask for more, I-I thought you didn't want more. But, trust me, when you are with me, I can't think but your lips…”

He moves closer and kisses you languorously. His tongue brushes yours until he speaks again.

“Your neck, and your cute ears…” he says, lowering your neck and your pointed ear. “I was wondering how soft your thighs are, your breasts, and your buttocks…”

As he is talking, one of his hands slides on your breast over your dress, and his other hand massages your buttock. The moans you let escape are indecent, but you don’t care. Bilbo finally touches you how and where you were pining for. You are completely at his mercy.

Lowering his hand to the end of your dress, Bilbo slides his hand under it and takes the time to stroke every part of your skin from your feet to your thigh, then your buttocks.

“You’re softer… than I expected…” he whispers, with eyes full of desire for you. “You're eager… than I expected…” you reply as you start to unbutton his shirt.

When you finally have access to his chest, you are surprised to find hobbits have hairier chests than you thought. As you run your hands over his chest, you feel Bilbo’s hand removed from your petticoat to unlace your dress. If you can touch his chest, why he couldn’t?

No sooner your dress is unlaced than Bilbo caresses your breasts with his soft hands. You can’t help but shiver when he starts to lick your nipple, first timidly then hungrily.

Your arousal is easy to guess since your hips can’t help but move sensually over him. Over his trousers. Trousers which are getting bigger than ever. Maybe you should help him?

With the little space you have, you unbutton his trousers and don’t wait for stroking his bulge over his undergarment. A warm breath brushes your nipple since Bilbo can’t contain a moan. A loud moan which makes you even more aroused.

Bilbo always takes his time to do everything but tonight, he surprised you. Maybe your hand pumping his hard member just left from his undergarment is the reason? In a few seconds, Bilbo kisses you deeply and slides his hands under your dress to find your own wet undergarment. His fingers quickly find your sensitive pearl. Drinking your moans, he starts to stroke it slowly. Too slowly for you. Pumping quicker his hardness makes him understand it.

Needing to breathe, you break the kiss and let your head fall on Bilbo’s neck. He has no choice but to do the same.

“You smell so good…” he whimpered.

You wanted to reply to him. To tell him his smell is also delicious, but he doesn't give you the time. His hand goes further in your undergarment and finds your wet entrance. One finger slides inside, then a second thanks to your wetness. By spreading your legs as much as you can on his armchair, his fingers have room to move faster. The sensations Bilbo brings you make you forget everything except his name, escaping from your mouth endlessly. Bilbo’s arousal becomes more difficult to contain for him too. His hips move to join your strokes and his moans change into groans.

“I won’t last… if we continue like this…” you pant as he slowly removes his fingers from you. “Same for me…” he moans as you take back your hand. “Want to go to bed?” you ask, between light kisses. “I want you here…” he says, looking at you with lusty eyes. “But without your dress and all the rest…”

A smile appears on your face as you get up from his armchair. You are glad he thought the same as you.

Only the crackle of fire echoes in the room, and maybe the sound of clothes throwing on the floor. Bilbo undresses himself quicker than you. You have never seen him act so fast. You can’t help but laugh when you see him waiting for you as you still have your socks and your undergarments.

Finally both naked, Bilbo takes your hand and kisses you before sitting down on his armchair.

“You’re beautiful…” he murmurs as he pulls your hand for you to join him.

You come closer and straddle him again. This time, your skin touches his, and he is burning. As you feel his hard member pulsing against your abdomen, your whole body is now on fire.

With a hand on your back, Bilbo pressed you against him. You don’t wait to take his face in your hands and devore his sweet lips. Your tongues dance with each other while you rub yourself against him, feeling his hardness stroking your pearl of nerves.

Even though Bilbo’s hands run all over your body, you are in control, and you like it. You suspect you aren’t the only one to like it. How long will he last before begging you?

His head eventually falls back on his armchair, stifling his moans by biting his lips. You take advantage of it by diving your lips on his neck and nibbling his silky skin. Now, Bilbo can’t contain either his groans or his hips from joining your movements.

“I’m a patient hobbit… b-but if you don’t ride me right now… Please, I-I'm going to be crazy…” he tries to say as he looks into your eyes.

Your arousal keeps you to reply with words, but you can, and you will, use your body for it.

Dizzy with pleasure, you finally raise your hips and slowly go down on him, stretching deliciously your walls. Both of you let escape a long sigh. Your wetness allows Bilbo’s hardness to slide easily into you.

Barely leaving time to adjust to his size, you start to move. Slowly, but deeper than you can. Each trust gives you a wave of pleasure more intense than the previous one. You have no choice but to grasp Bilbo’s shoulders to keep your balance.

Despite the warmth of the place, you shiver from pleasure. Bilbo does everything he can to keep his eyes on you. To him, you’re the most beautiful things he ever saw, yet he saw a lot of things for a hobbit. Even Rivendell’s waterfalls or the landscape he saw from the Carrock aren’t as beautiful as you are right now. He can’t help touching every part of your body to confirm to him that you are really with him, bringing the most pleasure he ever knew.

When the pace becomes faster and almost uncontrollable, it’s not your fault. Bilbo’s thrusts eventually take the lead, and as he starts again to mercilessly stroke your swollen bud, you lose the control of your legs and your mind.

A little cry escapes from your open lips, running out of oxygen, when Bilbo grabs your buttock to press you closer to him, burying in you to the hilt.

“I fit so perfectly… inside you…” he groans as you feel your climax progressively coming.

The words are long forgotten for you. His name is the only word you can moan. Bilbo knows you won’t last and so is he. In a few deep thrusts, Bilbo leads you in a pure bliss. Despite your legs being stuck between his thigh and the armchair, they tremble and your hands contract on his shoulder. Your head falls back, overwhelmed with pleasure.

Bilbo couldn't contain himself any longer. He follows you almost at the same time as you, pushing deeply in you until he releases his warmth in you as your walls are still spasming of pleasure. His head falls between your breasts, saying your name among incomprehensive words.

After a while motionless, you regain more or less your capacity to speak.

“Wow Bilbo, you… I… That was nothing like… I imagined…” you try to say, still catching your breath. “I don’t know what you had imagined… but I’m glad you think so…” he smiles at you after raising his head with pink cheeks and blissful eyes. “And I hope you don’t have any doubt… about my love for you.” “Hm, maybe you should remind me of it… as much as you can,” you reply, smiling mischievously. “Give me some minutes and I can show you one more time,” he says before kissing you tenderly. “I would like to believe you but I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” you laugh with a provocative smile. “Exaggerating? How do you think the hobbits are so productive?” he says with a cocky behaviour surprising you before his lips find yours again.

Here, a cold tea for you 🧊🍵🫖

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #bilbo #bilbo baggins #bilbo x reader #bilbo x you #bilbo fanfic #fluff #Smut

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

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A little something something for you

Hello, it is me...and I have a gift for you...

@dodo-doodles has created this AWESOME piece of art to go with a slice of warm, fluffy, heart-felt love!

This is me in a nutshell, you can read this as Bagginshield, you can read it as Thorin x OC, you can read it however you want! We can all agree that Bard, Thrandi, Thorin, and - last but not least - Bilbo deserve a shoutout for their parenting skills.

Also, let's imagine Bilbo took Frodo in right after his parents died.

This is dedicated to both the STGC and the Bagginshield community, for you are awesome people and I love you <3

Let's cheer for those awesome father figures and the amazing men and women they've raised!

Without further ado:

Please show @dodo-doodles some love, they're super super sweet, amazingly talented, with a twitch stream and everything...

@lathalea @legolasbadass @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @middleearthpixie @thewarriorandtheking @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @lordoftherazzles @laurfilijames @mathelaw @shrimpsthings

“Oakenshield. Good, I’m at my wits’ end.” Bilbo groaned when he saw the old-familiar silhouette darken the doorway of his smial. Strong and broad, he was the very epitome of safety and steady support.

Thorin walked in, taking off his overcoat and hanging it up neatly while Bilbo shoved a rag underneath it to catch most of the rainwater that was pouring down in rivulets and threatened to ruin the floor.

“I am helplessly overwhelmed.” Bilbo muttered, waving vaguely into the direction of the sitting room where a small creature was huddled up in one of the sofas.

Such a tiny thing, Thorin thought – his own nephews had been hearty and sturdy as a rockslide in summertime – but this fauntling looked positively withering, cowering against the plush surface of the furniture.

Approaching a chair, Thorin shed another coat, took off his boots that resounded with sonorous booms every time he took a step, and unclasped his belt. This was a battle in which armour was counterproductive.

“Hello, little one. My name is Thorin. What is yours?” He spoke gently, sitting down on the floor and watching the fauntling shiver every time a flash of lightening split the sky like the wrath of some angry god.

“I want my mama.” The creature whined, pushing further into the sofa. After a moment though, a tiny face appeared that seemed to be mostly made up of luminous, blue eyes. “I’m Frodo. You are not a hobbit, are you?” It asked with a voice so soft it seemed to float on the still air between them.

“No, I am King under the Mountain. I am the king of the Longbeards. A dwarrow, I mean, I am a…dwarf.” Thorin replied with a warm chuckle that drew the little boy up on his haunches and off the sofa within a few seconds.

He was lithe and agile, Thorin could appreciate that, and he ran towards the solid figure that seemed so much more inviting than the immobile sofa in a straight line, eager to plunge into the warm protection of those massive arms.

“What has you frightened so, little one?” Thorin asked. “The storm. I want my mama.” The kid replied in a trembling tone.

“Ah, yes…You know, I have two nephews.” Thorin, now only in his soft tunic, slowly lifted the fauntling into his embrace and rocked him gently against his chest. “They are already grown, I’d say big, but they are dwarrows as well and we’re not exactly known for our height.” Again, he laughed melodiously, while the small boy inspected his braids and beads with interest. “Pretty.” He commented, the lids on his huge eyes drooping ever so slightly.

Thorin thanked him, sending a silent prayer of thanks to Mahal for his sister; Dís had survived, despite and through everything, she had stood firm, for her boys, for her surviving brother. What would Dís do in this situation?

He knew that he was a far cry from the motherly warmth of a dwarrowdam, but here, locked within the storm and sheltered in a hole in the ground, there was nobody else but Bilbo and the child. He would have to make do.

“Shall I sing you a song my sister has sung for her boys? My…boys.” Thorin’s heart warmed at the thought of Fíli and Kíli. “Hmmm.” Frodo hummed in acquiescence, pressing his frail body closer to the reassuring warmth of the sturdy man holding him.

It was a song for pebbles and Thorin very much doubted that Frodo would be interested in long wanderings, daring quests and terrible danger, but he didn’t understand Khuzdul anyway; all he had to comprehend was that Thorin was there and wouldn’t go away.

He remembered having his nephews clinging to him in unspoken fright, he recalled the nights spent sleeping with his back against the wall of their chamber because it made them feel safer when he was in the room, he dreaded the recollections of their fevers and their coughs…or that memory of him almost losing both of them.

“How do you do it?” Bilbo appeared, finding his old friend sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, Frodo huddled snugly in his strong arms, singing a sweet lullaby to the now sleeping fauntling.

“The world is full of single men and their children, Master Baggins.” Thorin smiled up at him, softer than during the quest, more confident than when he had first retaken Erebor.

“Even those Elven idiots have managed to raise their children on their own. Men have done it. I had my sister, bless her, but I would have taken in my nephews on my own, you know I would have.” Thorin went on.

Bilbo knew this to be true, he had seen Thorin with his nephews and he had looked upon his immense pride when they were returned to Erebor as the rightful and prospective future of their people.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” Bilbo admitted fitfully. “You can. You must.” Thorin declared firmly, his body never shifting from his protective stance while his face mirrored myriad of emotions flitting across his brow like ghosts.

“Steady and reliable as the mountain, adaptable and soft as the river, warm and nurturing as the earth, Bilbo Baggins, you’ll shape your arms into shields and your heart into a sun for the little one.” It was a challenge…and a promise.

“When did you become so wise, King under the Mountain?” Bilbo mocked.

“Well, Master Burglar, Barrel-rider, lucky one…”, Thorin grinned, “among the many names and titles I call my own, “uncle” is the one that means the most.”

#thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #uncle #fíli #kíli #frodo #single men #and children #love and warmth #pure fluff #thank you #solace #let's spread light #and gratitude #my virtual gallery

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hyperbali · 2 years

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I'm happy to! It's honestly delightful how encouraging the Tolkien fandom is, haha

So, Nymphea is the middle of three from Old Took's youngest, Isengar (who in canon was childless, but shh), who'd "gone to sea" when he was young - I'm taking that as he'd gone off and been a sailor for a while

Despite how incredibly rich the Took family is - gentry, as it were - Nymphea took up shepherding for the sake of getting out of the house, and is also quite skilled at embroidery, drawing, and handy with both the shepherd's crook and slingshots

The night they'd signed the contract, they'd quickly snuck back to the Great Smials to pack in secret, but Isengar happened to catch them...

So... Nymphea's rather more prepared than Bilbo is for the journey, haha

I also wanted to try and touch a little on the relationship with Thorin - I think he's bemused by them, more than anything? They're so soft, and this whole journey is dangerous, and why aren't they back home tending to the sweet, nice things they're used to?

But 'soft' doesn't mean 'weak', and given what a hard life he's led, Thorin could use a little softness...

I also made their hair that particular gold blond for a reason - there's that fun little twist of his gold sickness, and oh, what better to covet...

It turns out good end, I swear |D;

#my art #sketch #tolkien #the hobbit #nymphea took #thorin oakenshield #thorin x oc #isengar took #anonymous #carminasolis #reply #long post

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errruvande · 3 years

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Mysterious dust (Pippin x Hobbit! Fem! Reader)

Word Count: 1, 435

TW: brief mention of blood, injury

AN: Here's my first piece for my sweet boy Pippin, hope you enjoy it

It’s been days since Gandalf had arrived at The Shire and, mysteriously enough, there wasn’t any trouble since then. Old Bilbo offered him a room, leaving the cart full of Gandalf’s things near Bag End.

What a foolish decision of theirs, fool of a Baggins, fool of a Gandalf.

“Hey, Y/N, come, quickly!” Pippin was standing in the doorway of your Smial - cheeks red, hair wet-ish, his breath was trembling as he looked at you with the gaze full joy and fear at the same time. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mo-o-on, Y/N!” He came closer in one jump, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the bed in the middle of the night, not giving you time to even dress up properly.

“Pip! Wait! Pip, ouch, PIPPIN!” He was dragging you after himself, not noticing you stumbled on the doorstep. Pulling your arm from his palm to steady yourself and soothe the pain by pressing your palm flat to your foot you cried on top of your lungs. “What’s the hurry? Where are we going?”

“There’s no time for explanation, my bean, just come with me I have something to show you!” His face was shimmering from how excited he was about whatever he had in mind. Pippin gestured to you to come with him. “Hope we are not late!”

You ran after Pip, down the hill, from the Tuckborough to Hobbiton, you had to stop for several times ‘cause your little feet couldn’t run as fast as Pipin’s.

“Finally, you are here, Pippin…” before you turned the corner, following Pippin, you’d heard a familiar serious voice of Merry. “Oh, you, of course, brought Y/N with you, of course you did!” He stepped forward, forcing a smile. There was a fabric bag in his hands that was thrown to him by Pippin carefully from the top of the Gandalf’s cart. “Hello, Y/N, if you are here, mind to help us?” Merry pointed towards the Bag End’s door and his eyebrows knit together. “Keep a lookout, please.”

You nodded, not even bothering yourself to ask them what in the sake of blackberry tart they were doing.

Merry put his foot on the little box under the cart, lifting his upper body to observe the filling of the vehicle. “Pip, there is it!” Merry pointed at another bag with some round vessel in it. ‘Take it, Pip, hurry!�� Merry jumped off, glancing around in panic, unbuttoning his vest to hide the bag, Pippin had given him earlier, behind it. “Go now, Pip, Y/N, go!”

When everything was in their hands, Pippin was standing on the ground with his bag, smiling and giggling, all three of you ran towards the nearest pack of trees, down the road, over the hill.

“Okay, and what’s now?” You stopped and bent in two, rested your hands on your thighs, gulping air eagerly. “What is that, Pip? You stole something from Gandalf again!”

“Yes we did,” You twitched as Pippin walked near you, unpacking his bag. “Look what we have: this weird Gandalf’s dust, some matchstick, a rope and this vessel”

You squated to take a better view of all of those things. The way this dust looked terrified you, and you rubbed Pippin’s shirt to get his attention.

“Pip, I don’t like it, what are you going to do, is that dangerous?” your face was so innocent, Pippin tilted his head to knock your forehead together with a silly smile, then said with your favorite smooth, thick accent of his. “We don’t know yet, but if Gandalf knows about it, that definitely would be dangerous”.

Merry giggled, grabbing the bag with mysterious dust and putting it in the vessel. He caught, waving the particles of this dust from his face. When he ended putting the dust into the vessel and tucked the rope into it, Pippin started wrapping the vessel in the fabric - he has been ripping the bags in several pieces to cover the vessel in it while Merry was busy with the dust.

“It’s done!” He stood - arms in the air high above his head. The vessel now looked more like a pillow with a rope stick out of it. “Let’s do the thing!”

You three kneeled around the vessel, made a circle, and Merry lit the fire on the free end of the rope. For a second you were sitting motionless, hypnotized by the little tongue of flame slowly sliding down the rope. When between the flame and the vessel were mere inches, Merry leaped back.

“Hide now, guys, it’s time to hide!” He vanished, taking his place behind the tree trunk.

“Y/N, come one!” Pippin shouted for you, but you were captivated by the light. You always loved lights, flames, something in it had a power over you so you couldn't tear your gaze from it. “Y/N!” He wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled you closer to him, away from the vessel.

Gandalf woke up from the horrendous clatter.

“Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brendybuck!” He growled, sliding off the bed Bilbo had offered him, and going to the next door to make sure Frodo wasn’t with these terror twins.

You were lying on the grass, ears hidden under your palms, and Pippin was lying on top of you, one arm was placed around your chest, another - wrapped around your head. His breath was shaking and he was scared to look at you, hearing your tiny squeals.

“Pippin, Y/N!” Merry rushed to you, tearing Pippin’s hands off of you gently to be sure neither of you had hurted. “Pip!” He gasped, the blood on his cousin’s hand caught him off guard. “The blood, Pip, is everything alright?”

Pippin nodded, not daring to look at you while you were still weeping silently. The blood on his hand wasn’t his, it was yours. The vessel had exploded and a piece of a glass it was made of stuck into your cheek.

“Y/N, Y/N...Y--” The tear dropped on your face, watering the wound, and you jerked your head in bitter pain. “I-- I-- I’m so sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have bring you here, I--”

You gathered your strength, placing one of your hands down your back and pushing your upper body up, trying to sit. “Pip…” your voice was quiet and hardly understandable, for you had tears rolling into your mouth. “Pip, it’s alright, I’m alive, I’m just slightly injured”. You pressed your palm flat to Pippin's cheek - his face, eyes squeezed with tears on his eyelashes, mouth curled into a wavy line, shaking with every breath he took - he was so scared for you…

“You two, again, why I’m not surp--” Gandalf was furious, but he kneeled before you and Pippin as soon as he saw your bloody face. “Y/N....” He shook his head, darting glazes at both Merry and Pippin for pulling you in this another game of theirs. “Come with me, girl, come home.”

{***}

Another day Pippin came to your Smial to check on you, finding Gandalf was still with you, healing your wound.

“Ugh…” Pip cleared his throat to get Gandalf’s and your attention. You smile at him while Gandalf only furrowed his eyebrows. “May I share a moment with Y/N alone, please?” His gaze begged for a little bit of privacy with you, he felt terrible, broken, he berated himself for putting you in danger.

“Sure, my foolish friend, I was about to leave little Y/N”. On foolish Pippin tilt his head, sniffing imperceptibly.

When Gandalf had closed the door behind him, Pippin almost crawled to your bed, eyes glued to the wooden floor.

“Pip?” You grabbed his hand gently, fiddling with his fingers as he handed you some flowers.

“Your cheek looks horrible” he muffled, you closed your eyes, another hand grazing under the blanket. You smiled at him, throwing a pillow out under the blanket and Pippin almost fell, loosing his balance for a second. “I’m happy you’re feeling better”.

“Pip, stop, it was not your fault”

“But it was exactly my fault” He lifted his eyes to meet your warm gaze.

“You're not responsible for that,” You pointed at your face, the reddish cut on your cheek almost healed. “For I knew with whom I am starting my new life” Pippin raised his eyebrows, pupils flared. “I love you still, this little accident didn’t change anything”

“I don’t deserve you, beam” His cheeks lifted up, showing his tiny teeth. Pippin bent over to you. “I love you, Y/N, and I am sorry.” He knocked a kiss on your other cheek, and you nuzzled into his neck.

AN this is partly based on a real story my co-worker told me and couldn't help myself but associating it with these terror twins. Btw hope you liked it, and if so I'd highly appreciate your comment or repost, it'd make my day💕

Forever tag: @bonjour-rainycity

Tag: @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @spacebabe51 @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth @girl-ln-green @hobbitkin-journey @otakudreamer

#pippin x reader #pippin x you #pippin x y/n #pippin fanfic #pippin took #pippin imagine #peregrin took #lotr fanfic

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