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#the line of durin
seven-eyes · 1 month
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king under the mountain (at least he was, for like two days)
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verk0my · 3 months
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I promise...
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smoothedsmoothie · 8 months
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the durins + pigeon
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mrkida-art · 3 months
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Memories of blood and bone
I wanted to make a more symbolic piece focusing on a young King Thrór. He lived through the war of dwarves and dragons and also likely saw his little brother and father be slain by cold drakes. He became one of the youngest known Kings of the dwarves, and he led his people away from this carnage to resettle elsewhere. His new settlement? Erebor. His story is one of the saddest of all dwarves in the legendarium, because ultimately he would lose everything to dragons once again.
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lathalea · 4 months
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The Shrieking Monster
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ This is a gift for @babe-bombadil as part of the @whiteoliphaunt 2023 exchange. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Happy New Year everyone! 🥳
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Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield & Dis & little Fili & Kili Rating: G Warnings: family fluff Author's notes: A story set in the Blue Mountains about Thorin trying to be both a ruler and a good uncle at once. Young Fili and Kili are making it a tad difficult in their own cute way. Special thanks to @naryaflame for your linguistic help with a name :) If you prefer, you can read this fic on AO3.
Khuzdul: Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls, the settlement of the refugees from the Lonely Mountain in the Blue Mountains Amad - mother
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1. 
It was a perfect morning. Thorin stretched and yawned, settling himself on his favourite chair in the kitchen. The air that whiffed into the dwarven stronghold from the outside felt warm on his cheeks and smelled like spring. As he sipped his morning tea, that strong, aromatic blend Dori bought in Bree, his sister appeared at the threshold. She gave Thorin a bright smile and, seeing her steaming mug on the table, she sat next to him. The lazy silence of the early hours of the day was soon broken by the appearance of two dishevelled pebbles, one with a thatch of golden hair, the other – with his hair as brown as a bear’s fur in winter. After the mandatory morning hugs, Thorin readied breakfast while Dís prepared her sons for the day, humming to herself. Thorin could not stop himself from smiling. His sister was probably already thinking of her visit to the market. She adored going there in the morning, especially on the days when the merchants arrived with new goods – and today was one of those days. Thorin sighed. As much as he wanted her to have a very much needed moment of respite – his sister-sons were quite a handful, to put it mildly – he was painfully aware of what it was going to mean to him. Half a day of having his eyes around his head and his ears pricked up for any unusual noises they may create… or worse – the ominous silence. In the past, there was only a handful of moments when he and Dís realised that the boys went completely silent. It never bode well. 
This day, however, started with the pitter-patter of the boys’ bare feet, chatter and laughter, and the clatter of their bowls as they ate their oatmeal. Dís reminded them to behave while she was gone, and left for the market. Fíli seemed very content about this state of things, knowing well by now that staying with his mother’s brother meant visiting various places in these halls, like forges, or assisting Thorin in other exciting ways. It was different with Kíli – his loud wails of protest at being so cruelly abandoned reverberated against the walls of their home. Thorin imagined they must have followed their mother through the corridors of Thorinuldûm for a long while. Her Little Bear, as Dís called him, was still too young to understand the connection between Mommy leaving, and the sudden appearance of candied rhubarb or his favourite cream toffees.
Distracting Kíli from his misery was not easy, but Thorin managed it by offering to take the boys for a new adventure. Their big blue eyes shone as he told them they would be going to the lower levels of the city together. It was a real treat – Kíli had never been there before and Fíli visited them only a handful of times.
Thorin had a mind to visit the Engineers’ Quarter and show the lads around while discussing some technical issues with one of the water engineers. And so they began their adventure. As they descended down the wide stone stairs Kíli stumbled and yawned, so Thorin decided to carry him the rest of the way. Soon Little Bear began snoring in his arms, and Thorin attempted to ignore the fact that his own tunic was becoming gradually soaked through with his nephew’s saliva. He also started suspecting that the moniker “Little Bear” must have surely come from the fact that Kíli seemed to weigh more and more with every step, like a true bear.
“At least he is not crying,” Thorin muttered to himself, and kept on walking. Thank Mahal for silver linings.
As they arrived at their destination, however, the situation got worse. The Engineers’ Quarter was a crowded place that smelled like tar, coal, and burned leather. Not minding the much larger adult dwarves in their soot-stained clothes who carried – or carted – their wares from one place to another, curious Fíli began rushing between them, oblivious of the chaos he was creating. He took a look at the wheelwright’s workshop here, and then he had to see the toolmaker’s booth there; he then insisted on seeing how parchment was being made, and attempted to find the place where they manufactured those shiny cogwheels. If not for his golden mane, Thorin would have lost his nephew at least a couple of times. Brór, the water engineer he had a meeting with, joined Thorin in the chase for the high-spirited boy. Instead of looking at the water supply pipeline blueprints and trying to fix a problem with water pressure, they ended up unwillingly playing a hide-and-run game to the delight of the onlookers. Seeing your own king running back and forth through the great cavern with one giggling pebble strapped to his chest while chasing after the other one must have been very amusing… for anyone but him, Thorin thought with resignation. His resignation grew even more when he noticed Fíli climbing onto a tall work table… and jumping down onto a heap of coal.
When Thorin finally caught the runaway, they were both out of breath. Although it was rather Fíli who caught his uncle – the boy ran into him and clung to his left leg as if a throng of orcs chased him.
Fíli raised his teary-eyed face to Thorin and sobbed out, “A monster wanted to eat meeee…”
“A monster? Here?” Thorin’s brow furrowed.
It took him a while to reassure Fíli that no monster was going to eat him. In turn, Thorin promised to get rid of the said monster that apparently lurked in a nearby chamber, and shrieked at him. He left his nephews in the care of Brór who tried to look solemn, but his twitching lips betrayed him. Thorin grunted and entered the chamber, carefully looking around, adjusting his eyes to the dark surroundings. And then he saw two glowing points of red. And heard the shrieking.
2.
When Thorin returned to Brór, Kíli was fast asleep once again. Leaving Little Bear in the engineer’s care once again, he took Fíli’s hand and led him to the entrance of the dark chamber. When they opened the door, they both heard the continuous shrieking now. His nephew stopped and refused to walk inside, covering his ears and closing his eyes.
“There are no monsters here, Fíli.” Thorin reassured the boy. “See for yourself.”
“Nnoooo…” muttered Fíli, hiding behind his uncle.
“Do not be afraid,” Thorin added. “Nothing will hurt you here. I promise.”
On the bench by the door stood a lantern. It took him a moment to light it. With the lantern in hand, Thorin crossed the threshold and approached the nearest lantern that hung on the wall, and then another, and another. Soon, the whole chamber was bright as day, each lantern giving off a pleasant yellow glow.
“You can come in now,” Thorin smiled encouragingly.
With his ears covered and his eyes set on the shrieking, wobbling entity in the middle of the chamber, Fíli shook his head.
“This is not a monster.” Thorin stepped towards the huge bulbous shape that made so much noise. He placed his hand on the top of the strange shaking thing and added, “This is a washing barrel.”
Fíli blinked and took a good look at it. The two red glowing points did not look like a pair of evil eyes any longer. Those were two ball-shaped lanterns standing on top of the… thing. That shrieking noise now seemed to sound like a couple of cogwheels that needed a bit of oil, and not like a monster’s screech. And the arm that seemed to reach out to grab him before, turned out to be a cast iron lever.
“A… barrel?” Fíli looked at his uncle and took one uncertain step towards him and the strange contraption.
“Correct. A barrel that washes your clothes,” Thorin explained in an even voice and at the same moment the shrieking stopped. “Look, it has just finished the washing cycle. Let me show you how it works. First, you open this hatch, like so… Watch out for the water! These clothes are clean, they only need to be wrung out and dried.”
As he spoke, Fíli slowly started closing the distance between them, his eyes becoming wider and wider.
“... but if you want to wash your clothes,” Thorin continued, “you need to put them inside, here, and add some soap suds. Then you close the hatch, pour some water here, crank this lever a few times, do this, like so, and wait for the washing barrel to finish its work!”
Thorin kept on talking until Fíli seemed to be completely in awe of this new piece of machinery, his fear completely forgotten. He peppered his uncle with tons of questions: how many cogwheels were there, how many times one should crank the lever, what the barrel was made of… and so on, and so forth. When they left the chamber, there was a big smile on the boy’s lips instead of tears. 
On their way back home Fíli exclaimed, “This was the bestest adventure ever!”
Thorin thought that sometimes being an uncle happened to be quite rewarding. Even if his tunic was still wet from Kíli’s sleepy drooling.
***
His attitude completely changed less than half an hour later, when his nephews disappeared. Both of them. At once.
Stumbling over several painfully angular wooden toys, Thorin searched the boys’ bedroom. Nothing. He even looked under their beds (twice!), but there was no sign of the boys anywhere. They weren't sitting in the common kitchen nor searching for snacks in the pantry. Nor in Dwalin’s rooms where Kíli liked to play hide-and-scare with the big warrior. There were nowhere to be found – not in the rocking chair by the fireplace, nor even in Balin’s study by that large desk where Fíli liked to play so often. Thorin closed his eyes. If he did not find his nephews before Dís returned from the market, his sister would have Thorin’s own head on a spike. The wrath of dwarf-women was ten times fiercer than the one of dwarf-men. In the case of his little sister, the number was much higher, at least a hundred times. And Thorin would do everything he could to avoid being on the receiving end of it.
There was no time to lose. He recruited Dwalin, Óin, and Halkatla, Balin’s wife, to the task of finding the boys, but they returned empty-handed. No one had seen the boys since their early lunch. Then, they were supposed to take a nap, and Thorin remembered their yawning as they closed the door to their bedroom behind him.
And now they were gone. Kidnapped? — No, impossible, Thorin thought. Dwarves cherished their children like the greatest treasures they were, and no one else was allowed into Thorinuldûm. There were no goblins nor other dangers here either. It felt as if the boys magically disappeared in a puff of smoke. Thorin looked around the wide corridor he stood in, but he found no traces of the missing boys.
“Have you checked all of their favourite places?” Halkatla asked, her red-and-silver braids clinking as she turned her head towards Óin.
“Aye, we did,” he nodded. “Not a sign of them.”
“Those wee rascals! I bet they are up to somethin’.” Dwalin said. “They remind me of us. Remember that time, Thorin, when we were around their age or so, and half of Erebor was lookin’ for us all day long?”
“It would be difficult to forget it,” Thorin admitted. “We wanted to avoid another boring lesson with our tutor…”
“...and instead we went to explore the mines! What a shame we lost our way,” Dwalin grinned and nudged him. “It was fun!”
“Aye, fun on an empty belly. If only you had not forgotten our food,” Thorin replied, relieved that his nephews had a proper meal at least.
“If only ye had not forgotten that map ye were supposed to borrow from your father’s desk,” Dwalin chuckled.
Before Thorin could form an adequate riposte, a mousy-haired dwarf approached him.
“M’lord, Master Brór says that the pipeline is fully functional again,” the messenger bowed.
Thorin gave him a nod of thanks. At least he brought a piece of good news. Master Brór was a skilled engineer, and the way he handled Thorin’s own sister-sons…
“Either way,” Dwalin continued, “we had a real adventure on that day, hadn’t we, Thorin?”
A thought appeared in Thorin’s mind. Master Brór. An adventure.
“There was one place where we have not searched yet,” he turned to his companions.
“I am listening,” Halkatla tilted her head, reminding him of a curious raven.
“The Engineers’ Quarters.”
***
Master Brór was more than happy to receive words of thanks from Thorin in person for fixing that pipeline issue once and for all. Despite Thorin’s hopes, he had not seen Fíli or Kíli since they left the Engineers’ Quarters with their uncle earlier that day. Dwalin muttered a curse under his breath.
“Well, that’s it. I’m goin’ to check the workshops,” the warrior said.
“I’ll take the ones on the left, you take the ones on the right,” Halkatla followed him.
“Let’s go,” Dwalin replied, his voice trailing off as he walked away. “And those wee cave bats would better be there or I swear…”
Master Brór addressed Thorin, “I will spread the word as you requested, my lord. Someone must have seen them, I am certain of it. They could not have simply disappeared.”
Thorin agreed with him and began his own search. The rocks could not have swallowed them whole! Magic was out of the question as well, there had to be a logical solution to this! Thoring pulled at his short beard in frustration. Wandering through the area and looking for any signs of his nephews in places they visited earlier that day, he wondered if Óin had any luck. The healer was waiting at their home in case Fíli and Kíli returned there on their own. Perhaps the three of them were already sitting by the fire, with Óin telling the boys countless amusing stories, while Thorin and his companions were checking every nook and cranny on the lower level, going out of their minds with worry. He raised his head, listening to a peculiar sound and trying to figure out its source. It sounded like… shrieking. It was not at all difficult to recall Fíli’s eyes shining with fear, awe, and then curiosity at the sight of the washing barrel.
Without thinking, Thorin turned his steps towards the chamber that housed the “monster” Fíli had been so afraid of not so long ago.
When Thorin arrived at his destination, the door was ajar. Thorin could hear the shrieking very well, but there were other sounds too. Very familiar sounds.
He took a deep breath and shouted, “Dwalin! I found them!”
***
When Thorin stepped inside the chamber, the sounds became even clearer. One of them he identified as uncontrollable giggling, and the other one, slightly muted, sounded like: “Woooo! Woooo! Wooooo! A carousel! Woooo! Faster, Fíli! Woooo!”
Thorin breathed out a sigh of relief only to be struck by a pang of dread a moment later.
Fíli stood by the washing barrel, cranking the lever, grinning from ear to ear, and laughing. Kíli was nowhere to be seen, but his enthusiastic shouts seemed to be coming from inside of the barrel. Inside, not outside. Thorin swallowed; he considered screaming in terror, but something told him that this was most definitely an example of behaviour unworthy of a king. It took him a moment to melt the ball of ice that was forming in his stomach. He closed the distance between him and the barrel in a blink of an eye.
Thank Mahal, the hatch was open. Inside, Kíli sat with his back against a wall of the large metal container inside the machine, surrounded by various articles of laundry, with a happy grin on his face, and a stray sock on top of his head. A wave of relief washed over Thorin.
“Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin!” Fíli exclaimed. “We’re playing carousel! Want to jump in?”
Thorin did not.
“It is time to return home, boys,” Thorin simply said, taking Kíli out of the barrel. His clothes were damp and he smelled like those violet flowers Dís liked so much, but other than that, he looked happy, and what’s more important, he was in one piece – just like his older brother.
“But uncle...” Fíli started.
“Your amad will be home soon. Do you not want to see what she bought at the market?”
“A sugar horse? She promised!” The boy recalled his favourite treat.
Holding Kíli firmly against his chest with one arm, Thorin held out his hand to Fíli.
“Let us go and see,” he said with a smile as his nephew’s tiny hand grabbed his.
There would yet be time for scolding and for a conversation about not sneaking out anywhere alone, but for now, the only thing that Thorin wanted was to safely bring his little rascals home.
He only hoped they would manage to reach their halls before Dís returned.
***
When Dís crossed the threshold of their home later in the afternoon, she was greeted by complete silence. Her sons were nowhere to be seen, which was very suspicious. They were always the first ones to run to her and see what she brought them this time. She expected Thorin to welcome her and help her unpack her basket, as usual — but he was not there either. Was this that ominous silence she dreaded so much whenever her boys were executing another of their silly mischiefs? Not really. It seemed as if their home was empty… until she heard a familiar sound coming from a nearby chamber. Dís put the basket on the floor and tiptoed deeper into their halls.
The picture that unfolded before her eyes was the last thing she had expected. Her brother was half sitting, half lying on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head resting on the backrest, his eyes closed. Fíli was cuddled up to his uncle’s side, his hair tousled, making her think of a skein of golden yarn. Kíli lay on the opposite side of his uncle, his head resting on Thorin’s lap and turned towards her. He had his thumb in his mouth. Dís could clearly see the darker stain of drool on her brother’s trousers and stifled a giggle. 
All three of them were asleep, of course. And all three of them were snoring in perfect unison. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that she had a working sawmill in front of her.
This scene was too adorable for Dís to interrupt it, so she decided that she would let her three boys sleep a little longer. There was no harm in a little nap, after all. Besides, she was tired, and there was still some space left on the sofa…As she drifted off to sleep beside them, her last conscious thought was: “Why do all three of them smell like my lavender laundry soap?”
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yell0ws0ul · 9 days
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YA'LL... I BEG YA'LL PLEASE...
FILI DURIN IS SO DAMN FINE😫
WHY IS HE SO UNDERRATED?!?! I'VE READ ALMOST EVERY FANFIC THERE IS OF HIM😭 PLEASE I BEG YOU GUYS TO WRITE MORE FOR POOKIE😭😫
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LOOK AT HIM!!!!!! GYAT DAYUM BRO IS SO FINE😻😻😻 ISTG I WILL HUNT YOU ALL DOWN IF I DONT SEE NEW FANFICS OF MY POOKIE SOON👹
He needs to be appreciated more... He's WAY to underrated and it's sad... CUZ HE'S ACTUALLY SO COOL😫😭
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thatsamwise · 1 year
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Fili
I can't believe people don't give enough respect for Fili in the hobbit movies. You have to remember, he's young. And he embarks on the quest to reclaim Erebor, he knows he might not come back. If anything were to happen to Thorin he's next in line, the weight of a crown on top his shoulders. He was probably there when Dis gave Kili the runestone. A promise for him to come back to her. And maybe Fili promises, he promises to take care of Kili. To bring him back to Dis, and at worst he thinks, "Maybe I won't survive, but I'll do everything in my power for Kili to live." And he does, in the second movie we see him stay behind with Kili. When orcs attack Bard's house, it isn't just Kili he has to protect. It's Bard's children as well. We see him to everything in his power to protect them, he never puts himself first. He finally makes it to the mountain, and sees Thorin's sickness himself. And who knows? Maybe he's imagining himself as king, and sees himself in Thorin's place, sick. Thorin is his role model, the strongest person he knows, and to see him like this. It breaks him. When in Ravenhill Fili still put his brother first, sending him down instead of up. He would do anything for the slimmest chance of Kili surviving. And he fails, stabbed and thrown off by Azog. His last thoughts surrounding around Kili, still yelling for them to run. And his promise broken. Give this dwarf the respect and love he deserves
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enchantzz · 1 year
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I tried something new. Writing a Middle Earth story about young Fili and Kili and Uncle Thorin. I was inspired by this amazing piece of art by @sugarsu Here is the link to the original post. If you like the artwork, please consider reblogging the original post as well.
In the woods of Ered Luin
Summary: Uncle Thorin is taking care of young Fili and Kili and they visit the woods in the area of Ered Luin, The Blue Mountains. Just a lot of fluff and a somewhat anxious Thorin at times, but we all know the boys, so we can't really blame him 😉
divider created by me
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It was still early, but Fili and Kili had already been running around since their eyes had opened to a beautiful day in Ered Luin. Dis and Thorin were sitting at the kitchen table, quietly drinking their coffee and listening to the chatter and laughter of the boys. Thorin usually didn’t have a lot of time, so he valued these family moments very much.
Thorin had offered to spend the day with his little nephews. His dear sister Dis had gratefully accepted the offer and looked forward to having some time to herself. But as soon as Thorin had offered to take the boys, next to excitement a little pang of fear hit him. What mayhem would he encounter this fine day? Nothing ever did not happen, something always did.
Thorin mustered up his courage and got up to fetch the boys. When he saw a heap of pebbles, blankets, pillows and a cat on top of it, he wondered what had happened in the few minutes he had taken his eyes off of them. Shaking his head, he said, 'Come on boys, get your coats, put on your boots.’
The heap of blankets, pillows, pebbles and cat immediately came apart and two pairs of eyes looked at him questioningly. 'Where are we going uncle Thorin?' they asked. 
“You’ll see. Now come on, get ready,’ he told them.
Not long after, they entered the forest near the Blue Mountains. It was a beautiful day so far, but the big furry clouds in the distance promised some well deserved rain for the plants and wildlife in the forest. The leaves were softly rustling in the breeze, birds were chirping and singing, insects buzzing. The forest was so full of life, yet so peaceful. 
Kili was jumping and running around. There was so much to see. Flowers, plants, little rocks, insects. Thorin smiled. That boy never seemed to run out of energy. Fili was usually much more reserved and quiet. He was walking alongside Thorin, observing the woods, asking him all kinds of questions and Thorin was answering them patiently.
‘What animals will we see today uncle Thorin?’ Fili asked. ‘Will there be moose? And wolves? What about bunnies? Oh look, uncle Thorin, what kind of bird is that?’ his little fingers pointing at a bird with a bright red chest, singing its morning song on one the branches of a big oak tree.
Thorin cringed at the idea of encountering a wolf and the pebbles being in danger, but he didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, for Kili came running up to him. 
‘Look uncle Thorin, look what I have!’ he exclaimed enthusiastically. He was holding something in his tiny hands, careful not to drop it. Thorin crouched down. ‘What have you got there little man?’ 
Kili opened his little hands and a black spider crawled out. ‘You can have it uncle Thorin,’ he said proudly and with a big grin on his face. ‘I fetched it for you.’
Oh dear, how to get himself out of that situation.
‘I think the spider is …,’ he started
‘Ciaran’,  Kili said.
‘What?’ Thorin looked at Kili, confused.
‘It’s name is Ciaran,’ Kili explained.
Thorin raised his eyebrows at that and scratched his beard. Wow, he had only just found the spider and it already had a name as if it were part of the family and needed to be taken up in the Durin family tree.
The new addition to the line of Durin was quickly forgotten though, when a rustle of leaves alerted Thorin and he looked in the direction of the sound. The word ‘wolves’ still fresh in his mind, he grabbed Kili and told him to be quiet. He checked on Fili, who was crouching down beside Thorin, imitating his uncle and all three of them looked in the direction of the moving bushes nearby.
A little spooked by Fili’s question about wolves, Thorin wished that he had brought his sword. He held his breath, but he sighed with relief when a deer and a fawn appeared and not a big bad wolf. 
‘Oh look uncle Thorin,’ Kili pointed at the fawn, ‘A baby deer! Can we go pet it?’ he asked excitedly.
‘No, Kili,’ Thorin said, ‘They are erm … having breakfast. It’s best to leave them be.’ 
Kili sighed disappointedly and Thorin chuckled.
‘Come on boys, let’s go about our way. There is a stream not far from here.’ 
That also got Fili excited and both pebbles ran ahead, their chatter and laughter echoing between the trees. It warmed Thorin 's heart to see them so excited and happy. With a smile on his face, he followed his nephews in the direction of the stream. 
The clouds, which had seemed so far away at the start of their walk, now gathered above them, hiding the sun and making the forest a little darker. Drops of rain started to fall and the calming sound of the raindrops falling on the foliage and the fresh smell of wet earth had a calming effect on Thorin. All anxiety about wolves forgotten. 
He loved the woods, the sounds, the smells. He filled his lungs with a deep breath of fresh air and for a moment closed his eyes and held his face up to the sky, the fresh rain drops gently falling on his face, his beard and his long, dark hair, which was held back with a beautiful handcrafted clip in the form of a raven. 
He stood there, enjoying the moment, but then, at once, snapped back to reality. It had gone quiet. Even though shouting and noise usually didn’t mean anything good when the boys were concerned, neither did absolute silence. He quickened his pace and almost tripped over a boot and another one and another. He followed the trail of boots, picking them up. Apparently, the boys had decided that they no longer needed those. 
He approached the stream and saw Fili crouched down, his blue cape over his head and his chin resting in the palm of his hand.  Kili was perched on his hands and knees on a flat stone in the stream.  They were studying a black bird which was hopping from stone to stone in the stream. The bird paused, sat on a stone and curiously turned its head from side to side, seemingly as curious as the boys. It was altogether a peaceful sight, the dripping sound of the raindrops making little circles in the water, the gently flowing stream, and the boys watching the bird, watching the boys.
Thorin crouched down next to Fili and put his big hand on Fili’s tiny shoulder. So that’s why the little rascals had gone quiet, he thought and smiled.
‘Can we keep him uncle?' Kili asked, breaking the silence. ‘Can we take him home so that we can show him to amad?’
‘No my dear boy, your mother wouldn’t be very happy if you took a bird home. It lives here, in the forest, you know. This is its home.  Everyone and everything has its own place in this world and the woods is where the bird belongs. It would be sad if it had to leave his home. You don’t want it to be sad, do you?’
Thorin heard himself say the words and for a moment sadness hit him. His thoughts went to Erebor, his home, where he belonged and which he had been forced to leave and for which he longed with all his heart. One day, he would return to the Lonely Mountain. He was sure of it.
He didn’t have long to think about it, because a frog hopped out of the water, onto the stone chasing off the bird. 
Kili giggled and reached for the frog. ‘Can we take …’ he started.
‘No, Kili, we can’t take the frog home either,’ Thorin said sternly, but he had a hard time keeping a straight face. Kili seemed to want to take home every animal and insect he encountered. Thorin was sure that Dis wouldn’t appreciate a zoo in her home. 
After a moment, Thorin got up and said, ‘Come on boys, put your boots back on. Let’s go see if amad has something nice to fill your bellies ok? You must be hungry after all these adventures.’ 
With that, the frog was all about forgotten, the boys hurried to put their boots on and off they went with Thorin in tow. Thorin was quietly enjoying the walk back home, while Kili and Fili chased after butterflies, found treasures - read 'stones' - along the way, chased each other and left Thorin wondering if he, Frerin and Dis had ever had the same amount of energy as these two boys. 
The rain had stopped, the sun had broken through the clouds, its rays illuminating the way home and he couldn’t have been more relaxed.
By the time they got home, Thorin was quite proud of himself that so far, the day had passed without any incidents and mayhem under his supervision. He was grateful for the family time, but also, deep down, grateful to be handing them back over to their mother, his dear sister, whom he admired more and more, every time he looked after the boys.  But also deep down, he longed for another day with his nephews, whom he loved as if they were his own sons.
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nico-di-genova · 9 months
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Something about Kili and Fili being able to laugh over the idea of orcs. Telling Bilbo exaggerated tales and giggling when he looks genuinely terrified. Because Thorin has given up everything to protect them. Sure, he’s told them heroes tales where he is the mighty Oakenshield who struck down the biggest orc. He’s played pretend with the boys and took his fair share of hits from a stick that Kili was brandishing as a sword. But they haven’t truly understood the bloodshed. They haven’t seen battle, real battle, because Thorin would give anything for them to keep their innocence just a little while longer.
Kili was a boy who cried over skinned knees and Fili’s teasing. But he would never know the gnawing hunger that comes when there isn’t enough food. Thorin would go days without eating just to ensure that. Fili saw the whispered conversations between his mother and his uncle, the worried looks they would share when they thought the boys were asleep, but he would never go cold because his mother would give him her own coat just to shelter him from the winter wind. They would grow up in the care and comfort of two people who would have given them the world were it in their power to do so.
And Fili dreams of one day joining his uncle, fighting alongside him just as his father once did. He learns to wield a sword, an ax, learns the value of a dagger when all else fails. He won’t let Kili practice with him, because he cannot stomach the thought of his baby brother beside him in battle. For as much as Uncle Thorin has tried to hide the truth from him, Fili has still caught glimpses of the grief that wracks him. He’s seen the marks that a lifetime of war has left on his uncle, and he will not allow Kili to face the same pain.
And so Kili teaches himself. After all, there is no world where he will leave his brother’s side, they are a package deal. He begs his mother for a bow and arrow. Just a toy one. Until the woman finally caves and both her boys vanish for hours at a time, off in different parts of the wood, training for the day that they can prove themselves to the man they’ve looked up to since they were old enough to walk. The man who gave up his own safety and security so that Kili and Fili could still be boys for just a short while.
And in the end none of it matters. Because Fili could not protect his brother from the horror and pain of a injury more grave than a skinned knee. And Kili could not save his brother from the Orcs who had once just been a fantasy. They’re not children play-fighting with their uncle, and Thorin could not keep them safe, not forever.
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He might say ~i love you~ but will he give you his second most valuable posession/super sexy clothing while in the midst of a mindconsuming illness that makes you go crazy abut the thought of losing your treasure? (and watching you putting it on with heart eyes)
I'm not saying that the thought of losing Bilbo in battle was more horrifing than losing the mithriel shirt because Thorin considered Bilbo his most valuable treasure
But I'm not not saying it either
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verk0my · 1 year
Photo
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fíli and kíli appreciation post
you can get a print here: fili and kili!  
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smoothedsmoothie · 7 months
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thorin
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mrkida-art · 11 months
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Young Thrór (And one Grór) sketchdump
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sotwk · 1 year
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Intruders (Fili x OC fanfic, first of series)
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Summary: During their sojourn at Rivendell, Fili makes the acquaintance of an elf-maid who is surprisingly familiar with the ways of Dwarves. Unlike the rest of the Company however, he is less enchanted by and more suspicious of this mysterious stranger.
Part One of a planned series about the relationship between Fili x OC elleth, called "The Only Gold".
Word count: 2.3 k 
Pairing: Fili x FemOC (2nd Person POV)
Content: Prelude to romance, friendship, fluff, mild angst, The Hobbit events, Dwarf shenanigans
Warnings: None
To Read on AO3: Link
Dedication: For @fizzyxcustard, the first Durin (Thorin) writer to befriend me on Tumblr and who introduced me to the wonderful community of Durin stans! My first foray into Erebor is rightfully dedicated to you. Thank you for being such a supportive mutual to me and others in our orbit!
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The Only Gold
Intruders
Third Age 2941 June
Imladris, The Last Homely House
It was difficult to decide which amused you more: observing the Naugrim in their merrymaking around the fire, or listening to Lord Lindir’s anguished groans over their antics as he stood in secret watch right next to you. 
“I suppose tomorrow this courtyard shall have to be scrubbed as well,” the elf-lord muttered, his dark eyes scanning the blobs and heaps of food scraps that littered the normally pristine white flagstones of the circular portico. “Tis a small mercy that the Nindari fountain already empties and cleanses itself, otherwise…” He rubbed a hand over his mouth as he cut off his own frustrations. “Forgive me; it has been a long day.”
You rested a gentle hand on his arm. “Do not be so troubled, my lord,” you said, careful to whisper despite the small risk of your voice being heard over the cacophony of laughter and singing. “From my experience, Dwarves mind their manners well enough to clean up after themselves, no matter how terrible the messes they like to make.” 
“I shall have to take your word for it,” Lindir sighed, with a grimace that indicated he remained entirely unconvinced. “What odd little creatures they are! They seem to actually revel in chaos and noise and sheer tomfoolery. And from what I understand, these are not only grown males of their race, but some are also members of Durin’s royal house!”
After a while, the prim elf-lord fell silent to watch you watch the company of outsiders, and soon he picked up on the delight shining from your eyes. 
“How similar are they to Dwarves you have previously engaged with?”
His innocent question called a flood of deep memories to the front of your mind, and the mirth on your face wavered. There was no way for Lindir to have known the specifics, and if he had, his impeccable manners would have restrained him from even broaching the subject. But your most recent experiences with the Naugrim had been filled with mourning and loss and anger, of old wounds that still ached to be soothed by happier remembrances.
“They are the same people, but these are very different circumstances.” You turned back to the gathering and smiled at the scene they created, just a group of kinsmen sharing an evening repast, dining in little more than their underclothes and even less care or concern. "I very much prefer seeing them in this light."
Lindir sniffed at this but refrained from verbalizing further disagreement, as your fondness for Aulë’s Children had become all too apparent. 
After you declined the elf-lord’s offer to escort you back to the main house, he took his leave, with a parting reminder to 'be careful'. It was hard not to feel disappointed at your friend's unrelenting distrust of the Dwarves. Lindir was far older than you, and much wiser in all other matters, but in your heart you were certain his disdain was founded on hearsays and ancient prejudices. 
“Oi, Bombur! Maybe you should get off that table, I can hear the joints creaking from over here.” The shout, though spoken with jest, also carried a command behind it, a tone you often heard being used by members of your family. “If we break one more thing in this fancy-pants inn I think that butler’s head might explode.”
More than the Dwarf's tone, it was his voice itself that captured your attention, that spurred your steps forward so you crept closer for a better view. You scanned the gathering of bearded faces, one by one, but unless that voice spoke up again over the raucous din, it would be impossible to identify the owner with certainty. 
But you knew that voice. You knew not for sure from when or where, but you had heard it before, speaking to you, addressing you by name, stirring up emotions deep within you like the early rays of spring warming the frosted earth. 
The clear sound of cracking wood startled you, and yanked your gaze back to the sight of Bombur, the very fat dwarf, falling smack on his bottom and then toppling on his backside on a pile of broken oak. Your lips twitched and your eyes wrinkled at their sides, but it was the unbridled howls of laughter from the other dwarves that released your own laughter from your throat--a high, delighted giggle that was shamefully loud to your own ears. 
“Shh! Did you hear that?” A voice--the voice--cut sharply through the merriment. It lowered into a menacing growl, suddenly shifting to their ancient mother tongue. “There’s someone out there.” 
* * * * * 
Fili grabbed the knife closest to him, resting atop the pile of his belongings, and darted across the courtyard in the direction of the sound. Kili leaped up to follow his lead, and behind the brothers a mad scramble ensued as some of the others hurried to join in pursuit. 
It was easy to spot the intruder descending the pathwalk that connected their lodging to the sprawling gardens below. The tall, hooded figure had the nerve to walk calmly in their retreat, as though they cared not if they were caught or had no fear of being apprehended. The mark of an elf for sure, Fili thought, and a rush of anger within him hastened his pace. 
“You! Stop!” he shouted, and was so surprised when the stranger complied so quickly that he skidded to an abrupt halt himself. Kili ran hard into him, nearly knocking him over, and there was much grunting and yelping as the rest of the dwarves similarly struggled to keep themselves upright. 
“Who are you?” Fili demanded, raising himself up to full height and straight posture, but mindful enough to keep his knife sheathed at his side. This elf was nowhere near as tall as the riders who had accosted them at their arrival, or even the ones who had attended them at luncheon. Even if they didn’t have him outnumbered, the dwarf was confident he could take him down on his own if necessary. 
“I am a friend, Master Dwarf,” a soft voice spoke from underneath the hood. 
Next to him, Fili sensed Kili shifting his weight uneasily and heard him grunt, “Fili.” The elder Son of Durin at once knew his brother’s thoughts. That voice sounded female. This realization cooled his ire, but just barely. Danger did not recognize gender, he knew that from experience. 
 “A friend would not lurk in the shadows to spy,” Fili said darkly. “A friend would not retreat and skulk away like a thief in the night.”  He took a heavy step forward. “If you are what you say, then prove it and show your face."
A tense silence followed the dwarf-prince’s command. The collective disquiet palpable from the companions that surrounded him only fueled Fili’s irritation. Above all other emotions, he detested cowering the most. Durin’s Folk shrank before no one, no matter whose land they stood on.
At long last, a pair of slender white arms emerged from the folds of the stranger’s cloak, and two hands lowered the velvet hood. Cries and mutterings rose in a sudden tide around Fili, while his own voice failed him completely. It wasn’t until his lungs sucked in a starved, desperate gasp that he realized even breath had temporarily deserted him. 
None of their company, save perhaps Thorin and Balin, had had much contact with she-elves prior to the quest, but when they finally encountered some of these females at the Lord of Rivendell's table, they fairly matched up with the descriptions from the Dwarrowdam tales. This particular creature that stood before them now was unlike her unremarkable kin, and surpassed everything Fili’s elders had taught him to expect. 
It was her hair, above all else, that surely struck the Dwarves with greatest amazement. The color of the purest molten gold, it crowned her fair head and flowed freely down her shoulders, shimmering in waves of glorious light. It was such a sight to behold, so alarming in its unexpected beauty, that Fili dropped his gaze, momentarily doubting whether it was even safe to look upon it. 
Those standing closest to him literally bowed their heads in reverence. Ori and Dori went so far as to bend fully at the waist. Glorin choked on what sounded like a sob, while Kili found actual words to exclaim: "My lady!"
“My lords,” the elf-maid spoke again, high and clear as a wood thrush. “I humbly beg your pardon; I meant no offense by my presence.”
The sweetness that flowed from her polite words continued to charm his companions, but Fili refused to give in to the confusing swirl of emotions that crested within him, not even when her gaze turned at his utterance, again challenging his ability to breathe. “Why were you watching us?”
He felt a fist jab him on the back. “Nadad,” Kili hissed through gritted teeth. 
“It is a fair question,” Fili declared. He felt his boldness grow the longer he persisted. “Their king assured us we would be safe here, but how are we to trust that?” He turned slightly towards his kinsmen as their native Khuzdul rolled from his tongue. “Can you not see that ever since our arrival, they have been trying to uncover our secrets?!”
The only response he received were vague mumblings from dazed faces. Eyes glazed over in dopey trances seemed to pass right through him, listless and unseeing. An orc pack could have descended on them and hacked off some heads before anyone could mount a defense. 
“Stop gaping at her!” Fili snapped at them, tugging hard on his besotted brother’s arm in particular. “You’re falling prey to Elven sorcery for all we know. Don’t let yourselves be lured under her spell!”
“If I were as devious as you claim, Master Dwarf, then why should I admit to understanding your words perfectly?”
The maiden’s silvery voice speaking the guttural tones of their secret language in perfect fluency dropped upon the group like a hammer’s blow. Suddenly the lot of dreamy gazes morphed into expressions of shock, followed by anger. Even a little fear, which overtook any control the dwarves had over their better senses. 
Defensive instincts escalated to bellows of outrage, and hands rose in aggression, hands which unfortunately still clutched a menacing array of weapons. Brandishing his own dagger, Fili saw the elf-maid take a step back, and her withdrawal stirred a new emotion above the conflux in his chest: shame.  
“What is the meaning of this?!”
All heads turned in the direction of the booming shout, and they saw the Master of Imladris coming up the path in furious strides. The sight of him alone caused the dwarves to immediately lower their weapons, sheathe them, or hide them behind their backs. 
Lord Elrond cast a swift, rebuking glare over the gathered dwarves before planting himself between them and the elf-maid. He cupped her face between his hands and quietly spoke to her in indiscernible Elvish. She whispered back with downcast eyes, appearing to Fili almost like a child chastised. 
"She spies on us!" Gloin's temper erupted at the most convenient time, and Fili found himself relieved that someone else was speaking up to argue for their side.
"This is her home, Master Gloin," Elrond responded sharply. "Where you are the visitors. We practice great tolerance in Imladris to make allowances for cultural differences. But I will not abide the harassment of anyone, least of all my kin."
"Enough of this foolishness!" The next rebuke came from Gandalf, who suddenly materialized behind the elves, and looked twice as infuriated as Elrond. “It is one thing to practice table manners differently from the Eldar, but even Dwarves should know how to show a lady proper respect!” He pounded his staff on the ground, silencing any further attempts at protest from the dwarves. 
The wizard then turned and gave a sweeping bow to the elf-maid. "I beg your pardon and understanding on their behalf, dear lady, and offer no poor excuses.”
Fili was no longer surprised when the golden-haired lass smiled brightly at Gandalf, as one would at an old friend. "My heart sings with joy to see you again, Mithrandir."
The rest of their conversation continued in rapid Elvish, leaving the dwarves to cluster together and grumble and mutter in their own separate group. For his part, Fili did not have anything else to say, for he felt oddly weary. He did not even notice the elves had taken their leave until Thorin arrived, demanding explanations, and Gandalf rejoined them to resume the heated discussion about everything that had transpired.  
Fili broke away from the squabbling noise of the company to seek out the departing lord and lady. He spotted them leaving the path to go back up into one of the great houses on the other side of the roaring falls. From so far off he could still see the elf-maid’s golden hair gleaming, its ethereal glory undiminished in the evening shadows. Bitter regret bloomed in the pit of his stomach when she finally vanished from sight.
"I…I know her.”
Fili spun around and saw Bilbo standing a few paces away, staring thoughtfully into the darkness. How much the hobbit had seen of the entire episode, and how long he’d been lurking there, it was always hard to tell with their sneaky burglar. “What are you talking about?”
Bilbo scratched the side of his face, his nose scrunched up in his musing. “That elf-maid. I’m quite certain I’ve met her before. There cannot be many like her running around Middle-earth, and certainly not visiting the Shire."
“The Shire?!” Fili grabbed Bilbo’s arm and dragged him further away from the rest of the company, and out of the notice of his uncle and Gandalf. “Tell me,” he ordered the bewildered hobbit. “Tell me everything you know about her.”
To be continued...
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lathalea · 1 year
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💎 My Dear King,
I hope that you are willing to answer an ask on your relationship with your nephews.
First of all, I would like to complement you on doing such a great job helping raise them. But as we have heard many times your nephews Fili and Kili were quite the little troublemakers when they were young and I can imagine that it must have been hard for you to punish them because you clearly love them very much.
Just a little reminder in case you forgot ...
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Source: deviantart - Little Angels by Wolfanita
.....
Anyways, I know that they are adults now, but I can imagine that when they are together, they still get into trouble 😁 Do you still feel the urge to strangle ground them sometimes ?
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PS. I'm pretty sure that you won't be able to stay angry at them for a very long time. Your nephews are adorable 😊
I understand that you are a very busy king, but I hope that you will give us a little insight in your family life, because, like you, we all love your family very much.
Thank you My King
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Art by @mightysquareroot - check out the original piece here and spread some like&reblog love ❤️💚
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Dearest Lady Enchantzz,
How nice it is to hear from you again, my lady!
I hope that you are well despite the harsh winter weather. My youngest nephew insisted on sending you a parcel containing a thick blanket made of the finest mountain goat wool, a bottle of mulled wine, and a kitten (yes, a KITTEN) to keep you warm. When Crooc, the raven who is currently waiting by my desk to head out with my letter to you, heard about my dear nephew’s proposal, commented on it with these words: “Do I look like a donkey to you, Prince Kili?” “A winged one, yes,” chuckled my sister-son.
“If I’m a winged donkey to you, you are a complete ass!” Crooc retorted. 
At that Fili laughed out loudly, saying, “You’re not wrong, Crooc.”
His brother retaliated by grabbing him and pressing against the wall.
“I am NOT an ass!” Kili shouted.
Fili did not respond with words – he simply pushed Kili away. Kili stumbled backwards and landed on the top of my desk, still holding on to Fili. They scuffled for a while, ignoring both my shouts polite requests to stop this nonsense and Crooc’s annoyed cawing. In the process, they destroyed a few of my newest quills, scattered my parchments and broke my ink bottle. Its contents spilled over the desk and a pile of important documents. When the puddle of ink reached the raven, painting its talons blue, he beat his wings and started circling my battling sister-sons (who at that time resembled a heap of arms and legs on the floor), croaking loudly.
I managed to separate these two somehow and remove them from my study in haste. Only then did I find a moment to clean my face and garments from the splattered ink, with moderate success. What was worse, I discovered that my letter was destroyed in the process. That is why the letter you are holding in your graceful hands is my second attempt at writing to you. This time I succeeded, but I will have to think of an adequate punishment for these two rascals.
You asked me whether I would like to strangle my sister-sons at times? No, not at all! That thought has never crossed my mind. Certainly not today — neither on the day they filled my boots with wine (the sour smell is still there, by the way), and nor on the day when they placed several cave rats in my mother’s wardrobe, claiming they needed a new home after one of the mine tunnels collapsed. You can rest assured that I do not wish to injure them in any way. With the exception of maiming them, perhaps.
Do not be alarmed, dear lady, it was merely a jest. They are my heirs, after all. Is it of any significance that now my valet, the laundry workers, and my tailor will have their hands full with attempting to remove the ink stains from my best royal garments or mend my tunic if it is not possible? What about my secretary, the royal scribes, and me devoting our time to recreating the contents of the destroyed documents? And I am certain that the Master Carpenter who made my desk will be thrilled when he sees the stains that will have to be somehow removed from the wood. No, no injuries whatsoever.
That is how my family life looks this winter. Every single Dwarf is cooped up under our Mountain and the constant snowstorms make it difficult to enjoy the beauty of the season in full. It is truly a quiet time of peace. With the exception of the rather loud sounds I hear daily from the corridor outside my door. They are echoing against the walls again as I write these words and sound suspiciously like my beloved sister’s voice. Dis calls for her sons and when I hear the anger in her exclamations, I recall that she inherited her temper from our mother. I am certain that my dear sister-sons are escaping as far from that voice as they can. I wonder what they did this time. Have they made another ice skating rink in the Entrance Hall? Or have they put red ants in the Woodland Realm’s ambassador’s coffers again? Whatever they did, I will be more than happy to witness the moment when Dis descends upon them. I assure you, my lady, her wrath is much more pernicious than my attempts at strangling them (which I firmly deny, of course).
I hope that in these dire circumstances you will forgive me for ending my letter here. Crooc demands another treat and I would rather not antagonise my winged messenger when he is to fly to you with this letter. May he find you in good spirits and health!
Your humble servant,
👑 Thorin Oakenshield
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maeofthenoldor · 1 year
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no no no I dont think you understand the true despair of the Dwarven history. Dwarven tales are filled with so much tradgedy, losing their homes, their birthright. their heirlooms lost to dragons and fire and bloody wars. Their very culture eroding away like water upon stone. I wish Tolkien could come back from the dead so I could force him to write a silmarillion-esque legendarium just on dwarves. I would love to hear more about their culture and practices. But i guess my own worldbuilding will suffice
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