#this is worse than when Gandalf wouldn’t shut up

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

sae’s terrible-awful-horrible-no-good-very bad-isengard-adventure (or, oc-tober day 5: thunder)

The grinding of Isengard’s great machines is an unceasing cacophony, the grating of metal on metal and shouting of Uruk-hai and the wailing of prisoners and Saelinriel wants to clap her hands to her ears but she can’t , not with the chains about her wrists and the Uruk that has been assigned as her guard constantly watching every movement she makes.

So, instead she summons up her pride as a descendent of the Elendili , no matter how far back it is, and reminds herself Isengard – no matter how frightening it is, with the machines that shoot plumes of smoke and the pits where the smithying is done and where it is too hot to breathe, and where she fears she will never see the sea or the stars again  – will not break her.

She won’t let it.

It’s been a few days since Saelinriel and Lothrandir have been brought to Isengard, or that’s her guess, because she hasn’t seen sunlight since then.

 She does her best to turn to the West before swallowing the moldy bread they give her for food – and she wonders if Lothrandir is receiving better fare, but remembering how defiantly he’d sprinted away from the wagon (and from her , but she doesn’t want to think about how much that hurts when now is when she needs a friend most) she doesn’t think so.

Later she is summoned before Saruman himself.

He is almost like Gandalf in appearance, but sharper than he was, if that were the right word. There is an edge to everything about him, even the seemingly soft folds of his robe that hurt her eyes to look at for too long. Saruman's voice is mockingly cruel as he mentions  Nár and the Grey Company's errand in Enedwaith, and her stomach twists uneasily. 

"What do you want from me?" Saelinriel manages, trying to keep her mind shut the way Morinel had taught her after Mordrambor but it is difficult.

"Your friend Lothrandir is at my mercy. If you tell me what I want to know, he will not be harmed."

Oh, that is a cruel choice. 

She wouldn't be able to live with herself if Lothrandir got hurt on her behalf, but she would never be able to forgive herself if she gave Saruman - the traitor - the information he sought.

"Tell me everything you know about the Ring."

She blinks, frowning as she stares into the fireplace behind him. What is he talking about? The Ring of Barahir? Surely one as learned in lore as one of the Wizards should know the history of the heirloom of Elendil's house. "What?"

He laughs before going deadly serious and her blood goes cold as if ice drips through her veins and she feels sick.  This feels too much like Mordrambor, too much, too much—

"Gandalf knew something of it, and you knew Gandalf." Saruman's voice is melodious and calming. "I know the Ring was in the hands of a halfling. Where is it now?"

Stray puzzle pieces are put very quickly together and she can feel herself going pale as Frodo’s face and the Company and the solemnity of their errand flashes through her memory.

"I don't know," she lies. 

Saruman is not convinced.

She is sent to Morflak, (once Saruman and Gun Ain, the young girl from Forochel, are finished with her) an overseer on the Outside  where there is fresh – fresher, at least – air, and through the billowing smoke she can see the faint light of the sun struggling through the heavy clouds.

 Her back aches and she thinks Saruman's ‘interview’ might have opened the wounds on her back but there is no time for her to worry about that.

 Saelinriel keeps her head down the best she can, and soon she – somehow – earns Morflaks trust, and her shackles that have been cutting into her wrists and rubbing them raw are undone. 

The air is harsh against her wounded wrists and it adds — slightly — to the pain, but she has endured worse, and pushes it deep down because Morflak unsettles her in a way no other foe of hers has managed quite yet.  

He towers over her — clad in armor, with the pick of any weapon the forges make — and Saelinriel is small, garbed in thin rags with only a sharp iron spike she scavenged from the armory, hidden in her boots. 

 As she scurries about the surface on errands for Morflak and his cronies she can hear the thundering crash of the machines still — even what feels like — miles above them as the earth seems to quake beneath her feet.  

Metal pounds against metal as she goes about her business, making herself as small as possible in the process. 

She’s never felt so vulnerable — even when facing Mordirith or Mordrambor — or alone. 

Saelinriel pauses once, during her rounds, in front of a large building on the northernmost most part of the Ring of Orthanc.   She approaches the great doors, beneath great green-blue glass window, but before she can go in she hears ruckus coming from within. 

She can’t stay, as much as she wants, she would risk getting caught and that —  Her back still stings and she’s not eager to repeat the process again. 

Before Saelinriel returns to Morflak, she pauses and gazes south, trying to see through the smoke and smog, as she wonders if Dagoras still holds his camp within Nan Curunír or if he too was lost to—

No, she cannot think like that , not now. 

(She’s barely managing as is.)

During the night, Isengard is neither still nor silent — it’s like trying to sleep in a thunderstorm— but there are moments when she’s alone, and while she is trying her best to sleep — against her will — her thoughts turn to the fate of the Grey Company. 

But the thought that troubles her most, that returns again and again unbidden, is that she and Lothrandir may very well be the last living members of the Grey Company. 

(And for how much longer? The cynical part of her whispers and she tries to ignore how much it frightens her.)

 Saelinriel is sent to carry food (slop, really) down to the depths of the dungeons and give them to some prisoners. Baldgar and Acca are their names and – they claim to – have an escape plan.  She’s skeptical at first, but then what better choice is there? 

From what she can gather, the plan is as follows: Acca knows a secret way out of the Ring but to escape, both Baldgar and Acca need a way out of their cells, and all three of them need a big enough distraction to keep the Uruk-hai occupied.

And, since Acca and Baldgar are otherwise occupied, it is down to her to go and get the ingredients and do most of the preparation.

 Saelinriel goes about her errands in the forge as normal – as Baldgar and Acca suggested to keep appearances up – with the task of gathering some of the powder that is used in the creation of black fire, a powerful weapon. 

(Her hands shake the entire time and she is almost certain Sagrúrz is onto her, but no blows come nor heat from burning metal.)

 From there, she returns to the surface and sprinkles the powder into piles near the war machine when Thak, one of Morflak’s friends – did Uruk-hai have friends? Maybe subordinate was a better word –  notices her lingering near the war-machine and calls out to her and she freezes as he approaches - taking huge thundering steps. 

He eyes her hungrily, confident that he has caught her doing something suspicious, so she appeases him: she starts talking.

Angrily she tells him that it is Morflak's will that she walk around Isengard unguarded, and if Thak wishes to question the will of Morflak, she can bring the two together. All of Thak's bluster vanishes in an instant. 

He leaves and she returns to Baldgar and their plan is set into motion. 

Acca volunteers to light the powder, and she cannot quite believe the kindness -- can it be called kindness when it ends in such a cruel end? -- of a stranger and she and Baldgar press on.

 She balks at leaving without Lothrandir, but Baldgar's eyes -- fierce and intent and understanding -- find hers. 

  If Lothrandir lives still, Saruman has kept him very close. We cannot hope to gain entrance to Orthanc. He speaks the very thought that has lived in her mind since the moment Lothrandir ran away. 

A lump creeps into her throat and she hates the idea, but the others-- they are captured by the Falcon Clan who has no need of them while Saruman -- she thinks -- is using Lothrandir for information. 

Her throat burns and she nods.

Minutes stretch past without the signal.

Something is wrong.

 She and Baldgar go to see what happened and find Morflak, standing over the body of Acca.

 He looks up at her, an expression in his eyes that she has never seen before and her body trembles as Baldgar calls for her to distract Morflak and-- he is taking swings at her and she only just avoids the razor sharp blade.

While she is ducking and moving faster than Morflak ever could she manages to pick up a dull orc blade -- terrible craftsmanship and she hates that she is distracted enough to focus on that and not the very real threat before her -- and a dull board.

It is nowhere near as good as her Noldorin sword and Gondorian steel shield but it will have to do.

It must.

 Saelinriel keeps up for a little while but soon,  she is rapidly losing the battle as the Orcish steel shatters her shield to splinters and–  

 Thunder roars in her ears and she knows no more. 

#formatting got a lil mixed up because there aren't the right amt of spaces between some of the lines however i am Too Tired to fix it #i'm extremely lucky i got this done in time so i'm counting it a win #my fic #sae stuff #i'm also putting all the prompts on ao3 but only my favorites go here because.. #idk why actually that logic feels kinda backward but-- #oh well :) #mild mention of torture ig? if that's not your boat? #like it's literally glossed over and hinted at but!!!! #wanna make sure #og post

[middleearthpixie]

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Four

In honor of Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day, I thought I'd move up tomorrow's chapter and let it go out into the wild today. So, if you enjoy it, please let me know - comment, reblog, recommend, what have you! <3

Author's Note: Here is where the story will begin to mirror the events of The Hobbit, with some poetic license taken, of course.

Summary: Thorin and Seren arrive in the Shire, and she meets the Company, as well Bilbo Baggins.

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

Characters: Gandalf the Grey, the Company, Bilbo Baggins

Rating: T

Warnings: The sexual tension between Thorin and Seren ratchets up a bit now.

Word Count: 4,359

Tagging: @tschrist1 and if anyone else wishes to be added, just let me know!

Thorin stared up at the ceiling, only just barely able to make out the stains on the plaster. Water stains, most likely. He couldn’t imagine what else they might be. Didn’t want to imagine what else they might be.

To his right, Seren was sound asleep in her bed. Every now and again, she let out a snore that made him smile. At least one of them could sleep. He was far too busy mentally berating himself for his idiocy earlier.

He hadn’t meant to try to look down her tunic. It simply… happened. He didn’t know why he asked her about it, either. Up until the words crossed his lips, he had given no more than a passing thought about the fact that she was a girl pretending to a certain extent to be a boy. Her reasoning made perfect sense, after all, and he could hardly fault her.

But once she’d told him her secret, his eyes slid of their own accord to her chest. There was no indication whatsoever of any sort of curvature. Which made him wonder. Which made images pop into his mind. Images he neither wanted nor needed.

Trouble was, they were there now and that was why he couldn’t sleep.

Perhaps it would be easier if she looked more like a mountain troll. Or a goblin. But, in fact, she was actually cute. Pretty, even. Her hair was a pale, shimmering gold, like that of the elves of the Woodland Realm. She kept it back in a neat braid, which she then tucked into the neck of her tunic (stop thinking about that damn tunic!)

But her eyes were by far her most striking feature. They were wide and green, but unlike no green he’d ever seen. The outer ring of her iris was the deep green of a forest in summer, but as the color swirled nearer to her pupils, it softened to paler green, and finally yellow. They were almost mesmerizing in their tranquility. By far the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

And that was also why he stared up into the darkness, at the questionable stains. The fire smoldered on the grate. The fire she’d ended up having to start because all he was successful in doing was crumbling the flint like a fool.

That seemed to amuse her as she took it from him, saying, “Perhaps I should do this. I have the feeling that nasty little man at the desk wouldn’t be too keen on giving me another flint, knowing I’d be using it to keep a dwarf warm.”

He’d rolled his eyes. “I’ll go down and get a new flint. He won’t dare try to put me off.”

“You don’t know that.” She’d shaken her head. “He might have steel of his own or worse. It would be better for me to deal with him, if it comes to that.”

His gut twisted with irritation over that. A girl coming to his defense. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time she came to his defense, much as he hated to admit it. He appreciated it, but would rather not think about it, if at all possible.

Which led his mind right back to what happened earlier. He groaned softly into the darkness, rolling over to punch his pillow as he tried to will himself to sleep. It didn’t help. All he could think about now was what she kept hidden beneath that oversized tunic. And that was enough to drive him mad. His imagination ran wild, torturing him as the night wore on and the logs on the fire were slowly consumed by the flames.

He rolled onto his side, facing Seren. A mistake. She lay on her side, facing him, with only the light sheet drawn over her. In the darkness, without the shapeless clothes to hide her, the curve of her hips, the slope of her waist, were as plain as the nose on his face. And when he closed his eyes? It made things worse. Now he saw her in the rain, peering up at him as she had that first night. Rain beaded on her cheeks, caught in her eyelashes, shimmered against lips that he suddenly wanted to taste.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to will alway the sudden rush of desire he felt for this woman. No. She wasn’t for him. She was of Man and should stay of Man. Dwarves and Men would do well to remain far apart from one another. Nothing good could come of his desiring Seren Gilwynn, nothing at all. He would enjoy himself in the moment, no doubt, for he had the feeling she would be far different from any woman he’d known prior to meeting her, but in the end, it could never work. They were far too different and their paths would never be the same.

Now if only he could convince himself of that.

Finally, sleep crept in and his eyes slid shut. But, his dreams were every bit as frustrating as his waking thoughts; steamy and erotic and when he woke at the first light of dawn, the ache that settled into him was all too real.

He opened his eyes slowly, his entire body humming from the force of his dreams. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dreamed so vividly and as his gaze fell upon Seren, whose back was now to him, he bit back a groan. Perhaps letting her accompany him was a terrible idea, after all.

No. He’d overcome this. It would pass, as every other infatuation did. He had far more important matters with which to concern himself, and with that, he threw back the quilts and sat up. His trousers were draped over the foot of his bed and he slid into them before crossing to Seren to catch her shoulder.

“We need to move on,” he said, giving her a gentle shake. “Seren?”

She rolled over with a low sigh and her eyes slowly opened. She gazed up at him and his belly gave a sharp flip as a sleepy smile lifted her lips and she said, “I was dreaming about you.”

“Were you?” He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible as he turned away.

“I was, yes.” The linens rustled and he peered over his shoulder to see she’d sat up and was now rubbing one eye with a fist. “It was interesting, really. We were in an earthen cavern, surrounded by goblins. And one was about to stab you through the throat, when Gandalf appeared.”

He spun around to face her. “What?”

“It was so odd,” she said softly, looking up at him. “But so vivid. I’d swear it was real, but we are right here in Bree, and there are no goblins here, so…”

He sank onto the edge of his bed. “Perhaps you should remain here, or in the Shire. If we are to go to Erebor and face a dragon—“

“That dragon destroyed my home as well,” she told him, her voice low and soft. “I want it to pay as much as you do.”

He looked over at her. Her eyes held a sadness he hadn’t seen before, and his first instinct was to offer her comfort. “So, you and I fight for the honor of killing Smaug?”

To his relief, she offered up a sleepy smile. “I don’t delude myself into thinking I could kill a dragon. But I would like to be there when it happens.”

“How is it you lived in Dale, yet I only ever saw you that one afternoon?”

She lowered the hand that had been rubbing her eye. “I didn’t wish you to see me.”

“You hid from me?”

“More or less, yes. I watched you, but after that day, you thought me a pest. I’d follow you if you came into Dale, with my little sword at my side, just in case anyone thought to give you trouble.”

“I thought you a pest?”

To his discomfort, she nodded. “You caught me once, around Athluna Farydale’s shop. I’m sure you’ve put it from your mind, but I remember it as if it was yesterday. I confess, Mr. Oakenshield, I had a bit of a crush on you back then. You were so handsome and fearless… But then, you laughed at me and said I was but a child and I should go home.”

He tried to bring up the memory, and little by little, it came into focus.

He’d first spied her as she ducked behind a table displaying Miss Farydale’s goods, and had thought nothing of it. But then, the distinct feeling of being watched had settled over him and at least twice more, he’d turned to catch a flash of blonde hair disappearing around a corner, behind a table, lost in a crowd.

It went on that way as he’d made his way from one end of the square to the other, when finally, he ducked behind a corner and as the girl passed, he stepped out to grab her by the arm, growling,“What are you doing?”

The tiny girl with long blonde curls and wide green eyes blinked up at him, gazed up at him as if the sun rose and set on his shoulders. In one hand, she held a sword. At first glance, he thought it was a toy, but then realized it was anything but. Small, perhaps, but honed to a lethal degree from the looks of it.

He released her, folding his arms. “I’m waiting.”

Those green eyes met his and to his surprise, her fair cheeks grew pink as she stammered,“I—that is, you—well… I mean… I’m here for you to watch over.”

They winced in unison and he’d replied, “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m here to watch over you. In case Alfryd tries to make good on his threats.””

“Watch over me? Whatever for? I need no one to do such a thing. Especially not a child. Run along now, and bother me no more.”

“But—“

He didn’t wait for her to finish, but turned and stalked off, shaking his head at the very thought of that child thinking she was protecting him from the people of Dale, from Alfryd. Laughable.

“That was you?” he murmured, reaching for his tunic, draped over the foot of the bed as well.

As he drew it on, she said, “It was. Do you remember? I made a fool of myself.”

“I remember I was far too old for you at the time.”

“Yes, you probably were.” She kicked back the coverlet and rose and he swallowed hard at the sight as, once again, she was in only her tunic.

To make matters worse, her trousers lay draped over the table, before the windows, and as she stepped before them, the sunlight streamed in behind her and the effect stunned him into silence. No matter how he tried not to look, he couldn’t help but see the outline of slender, shapely thighs, softly curved hips, the slope of her waist, and the faint hint of those bandages of which she spoke last evening.

He turned about, the only way he could avert his gaze. “I was and I still am and we need to go.”

“Well, it no longer matters,” came her pert reply and he breathed a sigh of relief as the swish of fabric against skin reached his ears. Her trousers, hopefully. Unless of course, she was trying deliberately to drive him mad. “I’m not that same girl any longer.”

A relief that. He turned back to find her dressed once more, which came as another relief for him. Now, they just need to make for the Shire and once the entire Company was assembled, his thoughts would no longer center on the girl in his room at the moment. In time, she would just be one the others.

Or so he hoped.

“So,” Seren was saying as she tugged on hose that had seen better days, “how long will it take us to reach the Shire?”

“No more than a few hours.”

“Good. And do you know where we’re going?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” he replied as he fastened his scabbard about his hips. “But, we’ll find it.”

“And if we don’t?”

He offered up a long look. “We will.”

“Very well.” She tugged on her left boot, then her right, and straightened up. Her brows pulled low as she peered at him. “Is something wrong? You look a little flushed this morning.”

“I’m fine,” he told her, shrugging into his fur wrap and then his cloak. “We need to move.”

“If you say so.”

He held open the door for her. The sooner he put this room, and its two comfortable beds, far behind them, the happier he’d be for it. Perhaps then his thoughts would stop torturing him.

Seren shielded her eyes from the sun as she waited for Thorin to emerge from the inn. Something bothered him. He avoided meeting her eyes, or even looking directly at her, and that made her smile. He had no trouble doing so until she teased him about catching him trying to peek down her tunic. It wasn’t until she’d teased him about it that this sudden change came about.

Was it possible that he really had tried to look down her tunic? She thought that’s what he’d been doing, but it was entirely possible she was wrong.

Or so she’d thought.

Then, he came thudding down the steps and out into the road and she smiled up at him. “I thought you’d gotten lost.”

“It seems our innkeeper friend thought we damaged the room. I don’t know what he thought we were doing, but he charged us an extra fifty for it.”

“Fifty?” Her belly kinked sharply. She didn’t have much more than a hundred or so left in her purse. Still, she set her sack on the ground to open it. “Well, let me—“

“Worry not about it,” he said, catching the sack to lift it in one smooth motion and thrust it back at her. “I let him think we’d had the time of our lives up there and paid him. It was the quickest way to get out of there.”

She bit back a smile. “I wonder what he thought we were doing?”

He shrugged. “I neither know nor care. Now, come along. We still have a way to travel.”

For the first time since catching up with him at the bridge, when he’d dragged her into the underbrush, she fell into step alongside him. “How far is the Shire from here?”

“About half a day’s walk. We will be there by nightfall.”

“And is there an inn there?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. But no matter, we will find somewhere to sleep.”

She cast a sideline glance up at him. The sunlight danced along the dark strands of his hair and highlighted the silver streaking through it. The small silvery cube braided into his hair caught the light, threw it off in flashes of blue and white light. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

She gestured to her own ear. “That block in your hair. What is it?”

“It’s a rune. Woven in by my nephew, Kili, when he was a toddler.”

“And how old is he now?”

Thorin glanced down at her. “Not much older than you, I’d wager. He would like you.”

“Really? What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “Kili likes pretty girls. Fili as well, but he isn’t quite the flirt as his brother is.”

Hearing him say he thought her pretty did something odd to her. It made her belly flip in a way that was as delicious as it was unnerving. But, she didn’t wish to embarrass him again, and so merely smiled and said, “Tell me more of them.”

“Kili and Fili?” He glanced down at her, then looked ahead once more. “They are the sons of my younger sister, Dis. They are typical boys—reckless and headstrong and eager for a fight. You will meet them at some point in the next day or so.”

“I look forward to it,” she replied.

Perhaps it was but her imagination, but it seemed to her that his shoulders tensed with her words. But then, he said, “And they will most likely thank you,” and smiled down at her.

They walked on in silence a bit longer. As the sun warmed the air, she unfastened her cloak to drape it over her arm, and winced at the hint of sweat trickling down between her breasts. The linen wrapped around her was even warmer, and she wished she at least had the satisfaction in knowing she’d be able to unbind herself soon.

But, the truth was that as long as she traveled with a group of men, she would have to pretend to be a boy. And that mean remaining wrapped tight.

Not exactly the most pleasant of thoughts.

She tugged her braid from her tunic. The ends of it rubbed oddly against her skin, which irritated her as the healing blister on her foot irritated her, as the cut on her arm irritated hers. But, she kept her complaints to herself. Mama always said it did no good to complain and that energy was best spent trying to find a solution instead. Trouble was, the only solution was to confess her true gender and she wasn’t at all certain that would be wise. Thorin, she could trust. The others? She didn’t know them. And anyone else with whom they might cross paths, such as orcs, goblins, or trolls? She definitely did not want any of them to know the truth about her.

“Thorin?”

He peered down. “What?”

“Do you think I should come clean about who I am to the others? To Gandalf?”

He stopped and faced her. “Why?”

She also stopped and shrugged. “It’s warm. And that makes me a little… uncomfortable.”

She half-expected his gaze to lower, as it did the night before, but to her surprise, he held her gaze as he said, “It’s up to you. No one will touch you, if that is your fear. But, I cannot say the same for anyone we might meet along the way.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said softly, looking off into the distance, where the fields rolled an even deeper emerald green than the woods from which they’d come. She saw curious buildings in the distance, ones that looked as if they’d been built into the countryside. It all looked so lush, so peaceful, it was unlike anything she’d ever seen. She’d never been this far west before.

“How uncomfortable are you?”

“Fairly.” She resisted the urge to tug at the bandage where it rubbed along the left side of her ribcage. “My skin gets sore.”

“How quickly can you rewrap, if necessary?”

She smiled up at him. “I’m quick. Maybe a minute or two. As I said, I haven’t much to wrap.”

He looked around, only there was nothing but rolling lush fields, beautiful lush trees, and those odd buildings in the distance. Behind them, Bree was but a smudge on the horizon. “Unwrap yourself then. At least for a night or two.”

“Here?”

He nodded. “No one is around and I promise,” a hint of mischief glinted in his blue eyes, “I will not try to peek.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Do you really promise?”

Another nod. “I really promise.”

And with that, he turned his back to her. She looked around, then dropped her sack, shrugged out of her scabbard and set the knives down, then tugged her tunic free to reach beneath it. The bandage was knotted between her breasts, and it took her only a minute to work it free and then, with a low sigh, she unwound the length of linen. At first, the sore patch just below her left breast stung, but after a minute or two, the sting faded. The relief was so great, she couldn’t hold back her lusty sigh.

Thorin turned back to her then. “Are you all right?”

She held up the roll of bandages, tossing it into the air and catching it in the same hand. “Freedom feels wonderful.”

He grinned and she didn’t miss the hint of blush that crept across his cheekbones. She couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “You are blushing, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“The deuce I am,” he retorted, turning away.

But she wasn’t letting him off that easily. She darted about to stand before him again. “You are, you know.”

Then, she tossed the bandages at him. “Catch!”

He did just that. “What are you about?”

“Did you ever have a splinter that hurt. That hurt no matter what and when you finally got it out, it just felt so good, that your mood improved tenfold?”

“I have.” He tossed the roll back to her. “If it hurts so much, why do it?”

“Because I have to. You don’t understand. You’re a man. A dwarf warrior. No one will trifle with you. I, however,” she pressed a hand against her chest, “have no such luxury. I have to pretend to be what you already are and hope no one learns the truth.”

“I know the truth.”

She dropped the roll into her sack and gazed up at him. “But I know you won’t tell anyone. I trust you.”

“No one will harm you, Seren. Not as long as I walk this earth with you.” He stepped closer. “I give you my word. If you wish to remain unbound, know you will be safe with us. With all of us.”

He sounded so serious, his eyes holding not a hint of mischief and his blush had vanished. She knew her trust had yet to be misplaced or unfounded. She nodded. “Will you tell anyone?”

“Not if you don’t wish me to, no.”

“Can I let you know once I’ve met everyone?”

“Of course.”

She nodded. “Good.”

“We should keep moving. We still have a bit of a way to go.”

She nodded and crouched to slip the sack’s strap over her shoulder again, then stood and they continued along the road to the Shire. The sun sank low, streaking blue and coral across the sky. Red skies. A promise of good weather to come. Thank the maker the rain had finally come to an end.

But the landscape was deceiving, as it seemed they wandered from one end of the Shire to the other. She began to wonder if Thorin had any clue as to where they were actually supposed to be when he stopped for the third time, muttered something under his breath and said, "There it is!"

It was a house built into the hillside, with brilliant green trim and a round door that looked like the bottom of a barrel. On the brilliant green door, someone had carved a sigil and Thorin sighed as he grumbled, “Easy to find, my foot.”

Seren peered through one of the windows. Warm light filled the interior, and she heard the cheerful stamping of feet and the muffled voices rising as one in song. A party? It seemed odd that this was where Gandalf had sent them, and she was about to say as much to Thorin when he rapped on the door with a fist.

She held her breath as it swung open and Thorin leaned in to say, “Gandalf! I thought you said this place was easy to find? We lost our way. Twice.” He ducked as he stepped through doorway. “We wouldn’t have found it at all, had it not been for the mark on the door. You remember Seren, don’t you?”

He turned, saw she still hung back, and reached to catch her by the wrist. As his fingers brushed hers, a jolt rippled along her arm, strong enough that her head snapped up and she looked at hi. But he didn’t seem to notice as he tugged, pulling her through the doorway into a small house. For the first time in her life, she felt tall—almost giantlike—in that house. Everything was small. The furniture was tiny, the ceilings were low, she almost had to bow her head as she followed Thorin into a cozy, warmly lit dining room and found herself staring at twelve very curious dwarves and one very stressed halfling.

“Who’ve you there?” A dwarf with huge white hair and an even bigger white beard, gestured to her.

“Everyone, this is Seren Gilwynn, of Dale. He will be accompanying us and—” he held up a hand as a chorus of protests rose—“Enough. I’ve seen him with steel and his fists. He will be an asset.”

Then, he turned to her. “Seren, this is the Company.” He pointed to the white haired dwarf and moved along the crowed, “Balin. Dwalin. Oín. Gloín. Bofur. Bifur. Bombur. Nori. Dori. Ori.”

Then he moved to two young dwarves, both strikingly handsome, one blond, the other dark. “Fili. Kili.”

His nephews. She smiled. There was no way she would ever remember all their names, but at the same time, she nodded and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

They all greeted her with friendly, if confused smiles and minutes later, she and Thorin sat at the table, plates of something delicious before them, and she just listened as Gandalf outlined their plan for retaking Erebor, with the halfling being the burglar who was going to take something called the Arkenstone. The halfling who looked terrified at the very prospect of doing so.

With a sigh, she settled back in her chair and just listened. And as she did so, she couldn’t help but gaze over at Thorin. Had he felt that jolt when they touched or was she just projecting what she wished he would feel? Because truth be told, she still had a crush on him. Only now, she was no longer a child and that could mean serious trouble for both of them.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #fanfic writer appreciation day

[thotinshield]

for the nsfw prompt: sex in rivendell

The moment they step foot into Rivendell, Bilbo marveled at the beauty of the elven city. It is so… different from the Shire and the towns of the Men that they had passed through. Far better than the wilderness that the dwarves had led him into thus far, especially considering the fact that the elves offer beds for them to sleep in, rather than the hard rock of the ground that they’d spent the last few weeks sleeping on. Not that Bilbo would say that to their faces. He was fairly certain if he were to say anything that put the elves above the dwarves, Thorin might very well just leave him there in Rivendell. 

Which wasn’t necessarily bad. Was it? 

Only Bilbo hadn’t run down Bagshot Row and out of the Shire so he could be here in Rivendell. There was something deep inside of him that felt pulled to Thorin Oakenshield, to… to the dwarves and their cause. That was it. 

It had nothing to do with the dark blue eyes that had occupied his dreams that night, or the deep timbre of their leader’s voice that had left him uncomfortable in his bed. 

Nope. 

Bilbo wandered away after the gracious dinner that Elrond had provided them. For once in the past few weeks, Bilbo felt like he was almost a proper hobbit again, having eaten a meal that wasn’t made on the road, though it could have done to have any kind of meat. Really. Elves were a rather odd bunch, Bilbo had concluded, but no stranger than the dwarves or men. 

He supposed any other race might find him just as odd. 

Wandering down the many levels of Rivendell, Bilbo paused to look over the valley. It was truly beautiful, though nothing quite like the rolling hills of the Shire. It almost felt distant, in some way, like an untouchable beauty, which was not how the Shire was. Everything in the Shire was touchable, grown by their own hands and cultivated for their comfort. He couldn’t feel that in Rivendell, at least not in the way that the Shire spoke to him. 

Bilbo’s ears perked slightly, the quiet sound of low voices carrying over the wind. He turned his head, trying to seek out the source of them in the night air. He was hardly an eavesdropper, really, but it was years of living in Hobbiton that had he had been unwittingly trained to listen on what might be a morsel of gossip. 

As he listened, he realized he could place the voices quite easily. Gandalf and Lord Elrond. They were talking about Thorin, Bilbo realized. 

The soft scuffing sound of a boot against the stairs caught Bilbo’s attention and he glanced over his shoulder, to find Thorin lingering a step or two above Bilbo. His face was hardening, and Bilbo realize that he had heard the conversation drifting through the night to them. 

“Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed, twisting around and clasping his hands together. Great. Bilbo was certain that the dwarf king didn’t actually like him, barely tolerated him, really, but this was not a good situation to be in. 

Slowly, Thorin’s eyes moved to Bilbo’s face, his mouth twisting up oddly. He looked surprised, and Bilbo wondered if Thorin had even seen him. Right, probably not. 

“Master Baggins,” Thorin said, his eyes locked in on Bilbo. 

“Were you… admiring the valley? It’s quite beautiful at night…” 

Thorin snorted, glancing away from Bilbo and then down the steps. He looked tense, as if he were about to charge down the stairs and confront the elven lord. Bilbo should probably do something, he thought, lest they end up in a worse situation than they already were. 

“I suppose you’ve seen many more sights than this,” Bilbo said, hoping to draw Thorin’s attention back. It seemed to work, at least in the meantime. “But I’ve only been in the Shire, and there is a whole world out there that I haven’t seen.”

“Yet you’ve decided this is a beautiful sight,” Thorin said, his voice disdainful as he looked out over the valley. But, despite his words and manner, Bilbo thought he could see something almost soft around the edges of Thorin’s eyes. 

“Well I have nothing to compare it to you,” Bilbo said, crossly. 

“You will when we arrive in Erebor,” Thorin said, turning and making his way down the stairs. Bilbo followed quickly, hoping that he wouldn’t have to try and physically stop Thorin from approaching Elrond and Gandalf. But Thorin came to a stop at a bench, glancing at Bilbo before he sat down. 

It was a great relief to Bilbo. 

So much that he felt at ease plopping himself down next to Thorin on the bench. Here, they could still see a good deal of the valley, and they were surrounded by a rather nice garden. It almost felt homey to Bilbo. 

He missed his own garden. 

“Tell me about Erebor,” Bilbo said, crossing his legs and leaning back to look up at the stars above them. They were no more brilliant than they were in the Shire, but he felt a warmth wash over him. Some things were the same, no matter where you went, and that was a relief to know. “Do you… did you truly live in the mountain? All the time? Did you see the stars before you left Erebor?”

Bilbo snapped his mouth shut, shame creeping up on him. It was not a question he should ask, not at all, but it had slipped free without him being able to stop it. 

He did not expect the soft chuckle that came from the dwarf seated next to him. Bilbo stared at him, his eyes wide, as he took in the small smile creeping onto Thorin’s face, his eyes crinkling at the side in amusement. 

Something Bilbo had not seen before, nor known that Thorin was capable of. 

“When I was young… very young, before I was allowed to leave Erebor…” Thorin’s voice was soft, and it felt far away, as if he were not there with Bilbo at all. “I do not how to describe Erebor to you, master Baggins. It was my home for many years before it was ripped away. Erebor is far more grand than anything you can imagine. To answer your question, no, dwarves do not remain in the mountain day after day or night after night, we do venture out,” he cast a glance at Bilbo. “I was not allowed that. As a prince, I had to remain in the mountain. For a very long time.”

Bilbo remained quiet as Thorin looked up at the stars, a fond smile curling onto his lips. 

“My mother brought me into the caves below Erebor..” Thorin’s fingers curled into his thighs, and he closed his eyes. Suddenly, Bilbo felt very much like he was not supposed to be here, sharing this with the dwarf king. “There were these… I suppose they are best called fireflies in your tongue. There were fireflies in the caves, along the ceiling of the cave. I … thought they were the stars.”

The small laugh of surprise that bubbled up in Bilbo’s throat could not be stopped, and he bit his lip as Thorin looked over at him. 

“I had heard much of the outside world, but I had not seen any of it.” Thorin released his hold on his thighs, drawing his eyes up to the sky for a moment. “I do understand the draw of the… beauty that the elves seem to hold in their valleys and forests, but I assure you, it is not the most beautiful sight you will find in the world.”

No, Bilbo thought, Thorin was quite right about that. 

Because sitting there, watching the king in the moonlight, Bilbo couldn’t imagine there was anything more enticing, more beautiful than him. 

Perhaps he stared too long, for just then, Thorin met his gaze before Bilbo could look away, or focus his gaze somewhere else less innocuous. Thorin’s eyes seemed always intense, his gaze burning, as if he were solely focused on whatever it was that he was looking at. Having that gaze focused on himself, even for a few seconds, it was… a bit much to handle. 

Bilbo dropped his eyes down, to Thorin’s shoulder, which was far less intimidating to look at. At the least, it didn’t look back at him. 

“Well, I… I should go,” Bilbo said, standing abruptly. He didn’t look at Thorin, tucking his hands behind himself as he glanced up for one last moment to take in the stars. “It’s getting rather late.”

“I shall escort you there,” Thorin said, standing up. Bilbo tensed slightly but nodded, glancing to the side so that he could see the dwarf, but not enough that he might have to make eye contact with that smoldering gaze. 

He could make it. 

As soon as he was in his room, he could think about those intense blue eyes all he wanted without worrying about it. Thorin wouldn’t know, and what he didn’t know… that couldn’t hurt him, could it? 

“We will not be staying in Rivendell long,” Thorin said as they walked down the halls, towards the rooms that the dwarves had been clustered into. “I fear that if we stay too long, we may not be as welcome to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo frowned. 

“Greater powers may not deem our quest wise.”

“They cannot prevent you from leaving!” Bilbo said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

“Elves do as they please,” Thorin muttered, and finally, Bilbo looked over at the dwarf king. 

His face was darker, his mouth set in a firm line. Bilbo did not have much time to ponder on his face, as Thorin drew to a stop outside one of the rooms. His or Bilbo’s? Bilbo wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like they had really been assigned exact rooms. 

“Then I suppose we shouldn’t linger too long in Rivendell,” Bilbo said, meeting Thorin’s eyes. 

“Right you are,” Thorin said, “good night, Master Baggins.”

“Wait, Thorin…”

Bilbo bit his lip as those intense eyes turned back to him. “Would you like to… ahem, I mean, I think we’re both in need of a drink?”

“Are you inviting me in?” Thorin asked, his mouth curling into a coy smile. 

Bilbo’s heart thudded in his chest. 

“Yes.” He said, his eyes locked on Thorin’s still. There was a heat growing in them as Thorin looked at him. For a moment, Bilbo wondered if Thorin would laugh at him, or look at him in disgust, at what was likely a rather bold invitation. 

“I could do for a drink,” Thorin said, his smile widening sharply. 

If Bilbo were a lesser hobbit, he might have tucked tail and run, but he couldn’t help the surprised zing of pleasure in his gut as Thorin looked at him like that. He couldn’t imagine taking it back now. Not now. 

Two steps in, Bilbo turned around to ask what Thorin would like to drink, exactly, because the elves had quite a lot of wine. His words were stopped dead in their track of leaving his mouth. The heat in Thorin’s eyes had only grown, far more intense than Bilbo had ever seen. He watched Thorin’s hand on the door as it shut sharply, for a moment dragging Bilbo’s attention away from the dwarf and to the door before his eyes snapped back to Thorin’s face. 

“Am I to assume that your invitation for a drink was a pretense, master Baggins?”

“I…”

“Do you wish for my company?” 

“I would not have invited you if I did not–”

The feeling of Thorin’s chapped lips against his stilled the rest of Bilbo’s words. There was no tentativeness to the way Thorin kissed, no hesitation. His mouth moved against Bilbo’s encouragingly, until Bilbo could no longer hold himself back. His hands found purchase in Thorin’s hair as he opened his mouth to let the dwarf’s tongue find its way in. 

Thorin’s hand cupped Bilbo’s jaw, tilting Bilbo’s head slightly and deepening the kiss as he went, sliding his tongue against Bilbo’s. It caused a moan to escape from the back of Bilbo’s throat, and one of his hand scrambling to find better purchase than Thorin’s hair. He fisted Thorin’s shirt, pressing as close as he could, pushing himself up on his toes. 

He felt the timbre of Thorin’s chuckle reverberate between them. The feeling only left a tingle chasing down his spine as he kissed Thorin harder, nipping his lip when Thorin relented for a second. 

“Ah,” Thorin let out a breathless noise, sliding his hand from Bilbo’s jaw to gently grip Bilbo’s curls. “Peace, I intend to take you to bed, master Baggins, if you would let me..”

Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes, relaxing his grip on the dwarf just enough that he could try to think straight. “You better.”

Another warming chuckle spread between them as Thorin raised an eyebrow, his reddened lips still curling wide in a warm smile. Before Bilbo could stop him, the dwarf had scooped Bilbo up in his arms. Bilbo let out a small noise of surprise, smacking Thorin’s arm. 

“Excuse me! I am not some… some child or maiden that you can just sweep up!” 

Nevermind that the strength the dwarf had just displayed had made Bilbo’s hardening cock immediately harden, instead of the slow approach that it had been on to that state. 

“I am well aware of that,” Thorin murmured in Bilbo’s ear, nipping the edge of his earlobe. Bilbo shivered and Thorin chuckled again, pausing at the edge of the bed. “And I shall keep that in mind…”

“You… you…” Bilbo stuttered, swallowing down the arousal building up in his abdomen. “Put me down.” 

“If that is what you desire,” Thorin said, stooping down slightly and settling Bilbo down neatly on the bed. He did not linger nor let a second pass before he was on top of Bilbo, pressing between Bilbo’s legs and kissing him fiercely again. 

The bulk of Thorin between Bilbo’s legs was more than enticing, the feel of his weight against Bilbo. Bilbo couldn’t help sliding a hand up Thorin’s arm, before he interlocked his arms around the dwarf’s neck. Otherwise he might not be able to control himself, considering the feeling of Thorin’s thighs under Bilbo’s legs. 

Bilbo’s breath hitched as Thorin pressed closer, his hips meeting Thorin’s unintentionally. Thorin gasped against Bilbo’s mouth, as their clothed cocks ground together. Bilbo moaned, hooking a leg around Thorin’s hip and trying to bring them together again. It was a feeling he’d be willing to chase, especially with Thorin’s mouth against his, and his tongue exploring Bilbo’s mouth. 

Not a way he’d mind losing himself. 

Still, he wasn’t expecting for Thorin’s hand to grip his leg and break the kiss, his breath heavy as he looked down at Bilbo. 

“Much as I’d be just as pleased to lose myself like this with you,” Thorin murmured, his voice husky as his eyes darted down for a moment. “I would very much like to take advantage of the comfort of having a bed with you.”

“Oh,” Bilbo swallowed, and his eyes followed the direction of Thorin’s gaze, to where their cocks were pressed together. 

“If you are amicable,” Thorin continued, drawing his hand away from his grip on Bilbo’s leg to slip somewhere within his jacket, and then producing a vial of some kind. But Bilbo could easily guess the contents within. 

“Yes,” Bilbo choked out, his cheeks heating up. 

It was almost embarrassing, but he was pent up, and he desperately wanted Thorin. The fact that the dwarf returned that sentiment, even somewhat, it only added to the growing tightness in the pit of his stomach. 

Thorin grinned, sitting back just enough that he could undress. Bilbo struggled to do the same, if only because the sight of Thorin baring himself was something else entirely. Not that Bilbo hadn’t seen Thorin bare before, given the time they’d spent on the road, but it was different here, in the privacy of a bedroom. No other dwarves to distract Bilbo or to shame him for taking his fill of Thorin in. His eyes trailed down the dwarf’s chest, to where his cock stood, plump and larger than any other cock Bilbo had ever been this close to. Of course, he’d only ever been with other hobbits, so that was not a surprise, but even so… 

Bilbo did wonder if he’d even be able to wrap one hand around Thorin’s cock, or if he’d require both of his hands. 

“I’ll take that as approval,” Thorin said, lowly, in Bilbo’s ear, as he brushed a kiss behind it. Bilbo shivered. “But it is unfair to have me bare as I am and you still here in your clothing, master Baggins.” 

Bilbo let out a small, indignant huff, pushing himself up on his elbows and quickly loosing himself of his own clothes. There was hardly any reason to act coy about it, now. Thorin’s eyes followed the path of his hands, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of Bilbo’s cock. 

“You must have seen finer cocks than m-”

His head thumped back against the pillows, his hands scrambling against the sheets as he tried to steady himself. The warmth of Thorin’s mouth enveloped him, the sudden sensation nearly causing Bilbo to lose himself there and then. He felt the flick of Thorin’s tongue against the head of his cock but he couldn’t quite raise his head to look, even though he very much wished he could. What a sight Thorin probably made, bent over Bilbo, his mouth wrapped arond Bilbo’s cock and taking him deeper. 

“Fuck,” Bilbo gasped, biting his lip as Thorin bobbed his head and sucked his cock slowly. 

His hips rocked up intentionally, and Bilbo might have been more worried about Thorin, if it weren’t for the fact that the dwarf moaned around him when his cock pushed deeper in his mouth. 

This would be fine too, Bilbo thought dimly. He’d be just fine if he came apart under Thorin’s mouth. 

Then, there was the press of a finger against his ass, and Bilbo whimpered, biting his lip harder as he felt the entrance of Thorn’s finger into him. It was certainly thicker than Bilbo’s own fingers, or any other hobbit’s fingers. He squirmed slightly, but at the least, Thorin had oiled his fingers and it wasn’t as harsh as it might have been if they had no oil at all. 

Not that Bilbo would have let Thorin do this if there hadn’t been something to ease the way, that was for certain. 

Before too long, before Bilbo might embarrassingly spill himself into Thorin’s mouth, he felt the cool air against his cock as the dwarf let Bilbo slide from his mouth slowly. Thorin had two fingers inside Bilbo, thrusting them slowly, in a gentle manner that Bilbo hadn’t been certain Thorin was capable of up until this point. Each thrust of his fingers Bilbo couldn’t help the moans that came out of his mouth, small and quiet, but there. 

“I will go slow,” Thorin said, drawing his fingers out gently and pushing Bilbo’s thighs open and settling between them. “You will tell me if I hurt you.”

“Yes, just please,” Bilbo begged, tugging on Thorin’s arm and meeting his eyes. Thorin groaned and pressed closer, one hand on Bilbo’s thigh as he wrapped his fingers around his own cock. The sight of that alone was more than enough to rile Bilbo up more and he let out a demanding whine. 

Thorin chuckled, though there was something behind it that told Bilbo the dwarf was just as desperate for this as he was. 

Thorin’s hand on his thigh squeezed gently, as Thorin guided his cock into Bilbo. The blunt head of it almost felt too much, but the preparation of Thorin’s fingers before eased its way enough that it didn’t hurt. Bilbo grabbed at Thorin’s arm, his breath coming out in small gasps as he felt the size of Thorin’s cock inside him. Seeing the size of it was one thing, but feeling it, feeling the way it filled him, that left Bilbo dizzy. 

When Thorin stopped moving, Bilbo shifted slightly, meeting the dwarf’s eyes. His pupils were pinpoint, dark as he moved his hand from Bilbo’s thigh to join his other hand at either side of Bilbo’s head. 

“You’re..” Bilbo’s breath hitched and then was pushed out him immediately when Thorin rolled his hips, pushing his cock into Bilbo as deep as it would go. One of Bilbo’s hands covered his mouth, his eyes closing. 

“No,” Thorin growled, voice deep in his throat and Bilbo felt a hand pull his hand away from his mouth. “I wish to hear you.”

Bilbo nodded, meeting Thorin’s eyes as the dwarf pulled out almost entirely before he thrust back into Bilbo. Bilbo’s hand scrambling, grabbing at Thorin’s back and clinging to him as the dwarf started fucking him, hard, into the bed. 

If this is what Thorin Oakenshield considered slow, Bilbo had to wonder what he might consider fast. 

Thorin pressed a kiss behind Bilbo’s ear, pinning Bilbo’s hand above his hand as he fucked him. Bilbo writhed under Thorin, gasping softly and crying out his name when Thorin’s cock hit the bundle of nerves deep inside of him. Before he could cry out again, Bilbo was seeing stars. He could feel the knot inside of him tightening before it released, and he spasmed against Thorin. 

A second later, Bilbo felt a warmth spreading inside his ass, and he realized the noise that he was hearing above him was Thorin. He didn’t recognize the words, and it took a moment for Bilbo to realize that it wasn’t his ears betraying him, but that Thorin was gasping in Khzudul as he came inside of Bilbo. 

Bilbo let his eyes fall shut, breathing hard as he felt the weight above him shift. Thorin could likely crush if he were to lay on top of Bilbo, but the dwarf had the courtesy of pulling out of Bilbo before he collapsed next to the hobbit. 

There were more conversation to be had, another time, Bilbo thought, but he couldn’t muster the energy now to question what had just occurred between them. 

#bagginshieldisreal #bagginshield #pan writes shit #hi yes this is in fact like 3.7k idk whats wrong with me but its like 2k just pre smut shit and then the rest is smut im so sorry LMFAO

[avaria-revallier]

Chapter 6: Cooking dwarrows and poisoning trolls

The moment Bella sat down Dwalin was by her side. “Namad, here. Drink something. You must be exhausted. Have some of this too, you must eat properly. Bombur, how is that fire going?” The warrior fussed.

It had been adorable and sweet for the first week. The second week her mood dropped significantly. Now the third week had ended. The morning after her speech of home and family, after they had learned of how old she is, all hope was lost. They treated her like an invalid.

Dori snatched her pack as soon as they stopped for the night, preparing her bedroll next to Dwalin and Thorin.

This had become her spot now and Bella felt safe and secure yet a bit jumpy around their leader. She had to remind herself almost permanently that this is not ‘her’ Thorin. Despite the knowledge of this fact, her heart betrayed her and started to increase its beating from a steady thumping into a fluttering humming bird every time he was near or simply looked at her. Curse that traitorous heart.

Bombur wouldn’t even let her chop the vegetable, while Dwalin dragged her back to camp every time she attempted to sneak off to train. Fili and Kili avoided her completely, whispering behind her back and hastily shutting up when she strolled close. Oin came up every evening, determined to check for a possible injury. Bella wasn’t sure, how she would have managed to injure herself at all, with all those fussing dwarrows around but appreciated the thoughts. Nori took on her watch, grumbling something about her needing the sleep. She slumps down next to Ori. He was eagerly writing and sketching in his journal.

“Ori, would you be so kind and explain again the difference between those blue gem-types?” the young scribe beamed at her, closing the book.

He was the only one who didn’t treat her differently. Maybe because he knew all to well how it was to be the youngest. Dori fussed over him enough as it was. The pure thought of having to deal with ten of Doris kind… Ori shuddered.

“I would be delighted.” He started chatting away about mining and how the different gems where found in different depths and how the purity grade was determined.

Soon he noticed that the hobbit lass wasn’t really listening to him. She stared over to where the better part of the company was gathered. Following her line of sight, he spotted Thorin. The dwarven king was sitting on a fallen tree. He talked to Dwalin about something and frowned at his friend’s response.

Ori looked back at Bella. In her eyes gleams a sadness so deep Ori nearly flinched. A storm of sorrow, pain, fear and longing? raged in her green eyes, dying them nearly black. He had seen this before. In the eyes of the survivors of Moria. He reached out to her, gently touching her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asks with worry in his voice.

Bella jumped, one hand reaching to her hip, as if she was to draw a sword. Oddly there was no sword on her and the dagger from Dwalin hang on the other side. Ori frowned confused. That might have been the reaction of a veteran warrior, but definitely not one of gentle folk.

“I … I am sorry. I think I… I need some time for myself. I won’t go far, I promise. I just need to think for a bit. Tell them… Tell them I won’t talk to them for at least a month if they come after me. I just – just can’t.” she choked, turning to hide her tears and slipped away.

This whole situation felt wrong. Bella couldn’t hold back the tears any more when she reached the forrest. The trees hummed comforting in the warm breeze. The company hadn’t cared for her before. She had been just dead weight to them. Another piece of luggage they had to look after. Dwalin hadn’t been that sweet and caring, Dori wouldn’t fuss and Bombur would hand her the odd jobs. Kili and Fili acted the same by now. It was familiar but hurt so much at the same time. Ori was her save haven as is Bifur.

The warrior wouldn’t fuss over her, just handing her a knife and a block of wood. Silently they would carve by the fire. Her sculptures were never really anywhere near identifiable, but he would just chuckle and let her try the next evening again. Thorin, well Thorin was another matter. He acted cold and distant. He would watch her with his indifferent expression but sometimes it seemed like he acted out of character. Neither the grumpy and brooding king nor the stoic and steeled warrior. He would be just Thorin, the blacksmith holding her heart.

The nightmares had returned. Every night when she closed her eyes the pictures of her bloodied dwarrows hunted her down. Empty eyes staring at her. Fili and Kili, Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur. Thorin. If she had been a little bit better at that time. A bit faster. Stronger. Even now they seemed to stare at her, reach out for her, calling.

‘It is your fault.’ They whispered accusingly.

Sobbing she sat down by a fallen tree. The earth under her bare feet pulsed slightly as if it wanted to tell her ‘do not worry, I am here’. The trees whispered stories of old. Small flowers tilting their heads towards the hobbit lass. The forest reached out to her, comforted her with its presence. The last rays of sunlight broke through the leaves, coating the lass and the flowers in gold.

Shaking she exhales. Crying had never solved any problems. Placing her palms on the grass she closed her eyes, focusing on the voice of the forrest. It told her stories of cold winters and the following spring as if it wanted to tell her all will be fine. After some time, she opens her eyes. A vast field of flowers surrounding her. Giggling she brushes away the tears. It would be fine. She would make sure everything would be fine.

Humming she picks some small blue flowers and a couple of daisies. Bella would put them into Dwalins beard once back at the camp. She would have to talk to them again. She is no invalid nor a child. She could carry her own pack, hold watch at night and most definitely chop the vegetables!

Happy with her choice of flowers, she had gathered some more for Ori to sketch, Bella decides to go back.

Loud, heavy footsteps, the distant splintering of wood and a painful scream of the forrest where the only warnings. In a matter of seconds Bella was swept off the ground. A surprised squeak sounded before the air was forcefully pressed from her lungs.

‘Snap’. The sharp pain followed immediately. At least one of her ribs was broken.

“Bert, Bert! Look what I found.” The trolls scraping voice rang in her ears.

“That’s not even a mouth full!” boomed the addressed.

“Is not for eating. I found it, so I keep it.” The first troll yanked her away from the reaching hands of Bert.

“And we feed it too? Don’t bother, better eating it now.” The third troll intervened.

“I, ah, I eat plants, so you won’t need to worry about feeding me.” Bella managed to say with a smile.

“See! No struggle at all.” The one holding her chimed.

Heavily he sat down, bringing Bella nearer to his face. He stank worse than she remembered. Something between rotten eggs and long forgotten fish. The stench stings in her eyes and nose. He poked her into the stomach, forcing the air from her lungs once more.

“Funny little thing. What are you?” he demands to know, poking her once more.

‘Smile. Ignore the pain and smile.’ Thousand thoughts are rushing through her mind. Bella couldn’t panic now. She simply refused to. ‘This is not right. Smile. They are early. We are not even at the farm. Gandalf, where is he. Thorin. It hurts.’

“I… I am a hobbit.” She managed to state.

‘Smile!’ With some effort the hobbit managed to force her lips into a polite smile, as she would gift Lobelia.

“I, well, I am a wandering cook. We hobbits are quite famous for our skills and our stew is to die for.”

“Bert look! I found us a cook!” the first chimed again, pleased with himself.

A large wooden spoon landed on his head. The troll flinched, tightening the grip around Bella. With another snapping sound a wave of pain flooded her body.

“Are you saying I can’t cook? A bit appreciation would be nice. ‘Thank you for the lovely stew, Bert. That was really tasty, Bert.’ But all you do is complaining, Bill.” He rumbled, swinging his spoon once again.

“Tom, say something!” Bill demanded, looking at the quiet troll.

“He’s right… everything tastes like mutton-“ he starts, ducking away as the spoon aims at his head.

“-except the mutton, which tastes like fish.” Finishes Bill.

“Shut your cakehole.” Bert grumbles, stirring furiously in the large cauldron. “We don’t have all night. I don’t fancy turning to stone.”

In her clouded mind an idea sparked. It might be crazy, but most likely better than the risk of breaking anything else. Bella shifted slightly in the grip of her captor.

“Excuse me master Bert? I can see you really did brew a very nice stew there. As I can tell, that you are an excellent cook. If I might suggest something that might be in your interest?” she smiled, clenching her shaking hands.

“What?” he boomed, not looking up from the stew.

“Well, I am really thankful for your hospitality and would love to repay you. My mother was rather famous for her gift. You see, she could brew a stew that held special effects.” Her heartbeat increased rapidly, waiting for his response.

“And what would that be?” he glanced at her, slightly interested.

“Ah, well… you see.”

“Yes? What is it?” Tom raised one eyebrow. She had the attention of the trio.

“This is a secret family recipe…” Bella watched them lean in to her.

“Spill it! Tell us about the secret thingy!” Bill demanded, shaking her impatiently.

“Yes, yes! The stew… the special stew makes you able to walk in the sunlight. You see, we hobbits just turn into trees when exposed to sunlight.” The lie easily slipped from her lips.

“Do you take is for fools, you little ferret? Trying to poison us, eh?” he booms, snatching her out of Bills hand and letting her dangle near the fire.

“N-no! Of course not. How could I ever be so impolite to my gracious hosts?” Bella forces herself to smile once again.

Her ribs felt like they where on fire and her feet where Bert held her began to turn numb. Small black dots invaded her sight, but she forced them back. She trapped her pain und unpleasantness inside a dark corner of her mind. It would be no help at all if she would faint now.

“Drop her!” now she even began to hallucinate. That couldn’t have been Kili, as he is safe and sound with the others.

“I said: Drop her!” the shouting was without a doubt Kili!

The next thing Bella remembers is being thrown through the air and landing on something oddly familiar. Kili had broken her fall, sadly Bella had broken something as well while colliding with his armor.

In a matter of moments, she was dragged behind a large tree and ordered to keep herself hidden. The battle didn’t rage for long. Once the trolls found out the dwarrows wouldn’t attack one of their own, they grabbed Ori by the arms and legs and threatened the company to lay down arms. Which they did. The trolls stripped them off their armor and clothes, stuffing them in sacks and piling them like presents under a Christmas tree.

“Where did you throw her? I quite liked that pet. She was funny.” Bill pouted and promptly earned a whack from Bert.

Creeping forward as silently as she could, Bella made her way towards a large boulder. Between the others she could spot Thorin, Kili and Fili. Dwalin was not far and Ori was still a bit green around the nose. Bombur lay on top of the pile.

“Don’t be like that, you can get another.” Tom patted Bills back, making him spill his drink.

An argument broke out and Bella took this chance to overcome the small distance between her and her dwarrows. Sheltering herself behind her brother she takes out her small dagger and starts to loosen the ropes.

“Listen, I know you will probably hate me for this plan, but you have to do exactly like I tell you. Understood?” she whispers hardly loud enough for them to hear.

She tried to sell them her plan as well as possible. They all looked at her as if she was insane when she moved on to Nori. Kili looked so betrayed while his brother eyed her as if she was insane. Thorin was no better. He glowered at her as if she had suggested for him to marry the troll.

“For Yavannas sake, Thorin! Put your damn pride away and consider your options! Do you want to end as a troll-snack before you even laid eyes upon your mountain? I don’t want to see them die again, so get your stubborn head out of your ass and do as I say.” Bella hissed under her breath while dragging Nori to the trees.

The argument of the trolls had ended with Bert hitting the other two on the head, demanding silence while he decided how to proceed with the dwarrows.

“How good can you imitate a troll?” Bella wanted to know from the thief.

Nori looked down at the small hobbit lass. She had courage and a whole lot of that!

She had called him Thorin and not master Oakenshield as she used to. And the worst part of it, he liked the sound of that. It had a nice ring to it, coming from her mouth that is.

‘You would even like it if she had insulted you.’ The voice inside his mind snorts.

Her plan was ridiculous and really humiliating, but she was right, he didn’t want to end as a snack for a troll. He had heard only half of her words, too taken by the fact of her calling his name. Did she really tell him to snap out of it?! There was something else in her words that made him frown. Something she said sounded odd.

A deep voice asked if they couldn’t make a pie out of the dwarrows. Another argument between the trolls broke loose and every time it seemed to die down, another bodyless voice intervened and fueled it again.

“Nothing wrong with a raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy!” Bill grabbed Bombur from their pile.

Voices got loud, insults were thrown at the ugly beings, but nothing seemed to help. They could only watch while Bombur was lowered to the open mouth of the troll.

“I wouldn’t risk it if I where you.” Thorin raised his voice over the others. “That one there is spoiled. He has parasites, as we do all.”

The troll halted in his motion, looking at the dwarven king.

“Parasites?” he asks.

“Aye, parasites. We were on our way to a healer, to get rid of our little ‘problem’.” He managed to say.

Every word burned like acid in his throat. The trolls all looked at him, doubtful but curious. Thorin clenches his hands into fists, opening and closing them a few times to release the tension. ‘This’ he decided ‘will never ever again be mentioned.’ Today would leave a blank page in their records.

He kicks his nephews in the back, as good as he can manage from his laying position. Kili joins in on their little act, as does Fili. They all first hesitate but choosing between swallowing once pride and being swallowed is not that hard a choice at all.

“I have huge parasites!” “Mine are the biggest parasites!” “They are as big as my arm!” to only mention a few.

Confusion grew in the faces of the trolls. Dwalin used that chance to get rid of his bonds and slipped the small dagger to Thorin. Quickly the dagger was handed around, while they yelled at the trolls and distracted them as much as possible.

“Enough!” Bert rumbled, snatching Bombur from Bill and throwing him back on the pile. “We will kill them now and cook them tomorrow.” He decided, taking a step towards the dwarrows.

They all were ready to jump up and fight their way out, if necessary. Thorin nodded at Dwalin, who returned the nod wit a grim expression on his face.

These things had hurt his sister! She might have tried to hide her discomfort, but he saw the pain in her eyes, the stiffness in every motion and how she preferred to lean on her left leg. They would burn for what they did. Before any of them could act, a familiar voice echoed over the clearing.

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf called out and sun flooded the valley.

The trolls tried to shield themselves from the sunlight but there was no help for them. They became stone once again. For a moment silent ruled the company. Then cheers and laughter filled the air. They still lived. Somehow, they had managed to survive.

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!” as soon as the blonde prince had his clothes, weapons and armor back on he twirls around to his younger brother, angrily staring at him.

“You would have done the same! You saw how they handled her!” Kili defends his action, anger rising in him.

“What would mother say if she saw you being reckless again?” Fili shoots back, checking him for injuries.

“Don’t treat me like a child! If I am old enough to go on this quest I am old enough to make my own decisions!” angrily Kili slaps away the fussing hands, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

“You are far too young to go on this quest!” Fili yelled at him, shoving him a bit.

Kili shoved back and a small fight broke loose. They poked and shoved, bickered and finally rolled around the ground, laughing to their hearts contend. Thorin shook his head at their childish behavior. In his eyes they both were probably far to young to come on this quest.

Suddenly it was quiet. He looked back where he last saw his nephews. They had vanished. His heart missed a beat as he searched the area with his eyes. Bombur and Bofur were helping their cousin into his pants, Balin sorted through the scattered belongings. Nori just came out of the forest and Dori was frantically checking over Ori. The scribe seemed fine, but his brother wouldn’t stop fussing. Dwalin was fastening his axes before stomping over to Nori.

“Uncle look what we found!” a relieved sight leaves Thorins lungs. He hadn’t even realized that he had held his breath.

“What?” he grunted, trying to cover the worry in his voice.

“We found a cave, uncle. It stinks, but there is a small hoard too.” Kilis head pokes out between the bushes.

He followed them, as did the better part of the company, leaving Dwalin and Nori behind. Thorin wasn’t sure why his friend detested his spymaster so much, but Dwalin had always had a high sense for what was right and wrong. He shifts his attention back to the cave before him. A barrel with swords catches his eyes.

‘This one is a bit small to be even called a sword, but maybe she could…’

“Where is she, thief?” Dwalin grabs Noris arm, forcefully yanking him back when he tried to follow the others.

“Lost her already, eh?” Nori sneers, breaking free of the painful grip.

Had he really lost her? Was this filthy thief right? Gritting his teeth Dwalin took another step towards Nori. Staring down on the one he had hunted so many times back in the blue mountains. This scum knew nothing about what was going on inside of him. The worry and the doubt of his own skills to protect his sister nearly drowned him. She had vanished on his watch. She could have been dead!

Nori watched the tall dwarf a few more moments, before he frees him from his misery. Somehow it had become a game to the thief to anger the warrior. He played pranks on Dwalin, angered him on purpose. Nori liked how crimson slowly crept over the tattooed face, the wild look in his eyes and by Mahal, the flexing of his muscles. This sight alone was worth all the trouble that came with it.

“She is fine. After she told me her crazy but brilliant plan she went back to camp. She said she would fetch the herbs, just to make sure. If her plan would have failed she would have poisoned them.” Shrugging he looks at Dwalin, daring to step a bit closer.

'Maybe if I kiss him he would explode?’ chuckling to himself Nori turns away. ‘No, just this is enough for now.’ Ignoring the aching in his chest he leaves.

Dwalin froze. There was a short moment between worry and anger where he felt peace. In the very second he heard the soft chuckle his world went white. Leaving only himself, his One and the smell of tea and sunny days.

“Oh…” he mouthed, watching the thief departing further from him.

If you want me to tag you as well, please just send me a message.

If you like what you have read consider reblogging my story for others to enjoy too.

I am always open for asks and requests for shorts of our favorite dwarrows!

Masterpost

@lathalea

#thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thilbo #king thorin #hobbit #hobbit headcannons #hobbit imagine #female bilbo #bilbo baggins

[bogariel-frogariel]

LOTR/Fantasy High Crossover

No one asked for it but here it is:

Find it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25263157/chapters/61245679

----

They were less than a week out from Rivendelle when Gandalf was forced to draw the Fellowship to a pause.

 Really, he hadn't thought they'd run into their first delay so quickly. They hadn't even hit the open plains yet. However, Manwe and Valar had probably contacted him through his dreams that night precisely because they were still protected by the forest and could afford to pause.

 Not that he'd appreciated the supposed 'assistance' the Fellowship had to wait for.

 His two gods hadn't shut up about the supposed 'great wizard' from another realm ever since they had bedded him almost a millennia ago.

 Oh, how he despised Arthur Aguefort. And he hadn't even met the wizard.

 And now they had to wait as a gift from him was bestowed upon the Fellowship, beings from the wizard's own domain to help with their quest. As if they did not have confidence in him. Their Olorin.

 It had not been hard to get the others to agree to wait; very few would turn down assistance from the gods themselves.

 Gandalf fought off his scowl the whole day they waited as the others merrily enjoyed their leisurely break.

 He had to remind himself off his purpose.

 This was good; the newcomers would help.

 That didn't mean he had to like it.

 -----

 The Elven Oracle, Adaine Abernant, Princess of Fallinel and Junior at Aguefort Adventuring Academy, was similarly unimpressed with her situation.

 She was not happy about being forced on this quest. The rest of the Bad Kids were delighted at getting another easy A on their school year, but Adaine was fed up with having all her hard work thrown out the window. Plus, she didn't want to be stuck on such a conservative world! They still had monarchies for Cassandra's sake (her sister's didn’t count. For one, there were four queens, and it was a democratic vote. Aelwyn just hadn't been able to resist the title).

 The Bad Kids had only had four hours to study the books in the Halls of Manwe before they were transported into an Elven city and told start going hiking through the woods to meet up with their party - they hadn't even been properly transported to them.

 They couldn't contact their loved ones, they wouldn't have access to the internet, and Adaine could barely afford to carry any books! This was going to be awful.

 And, on top of that, the prejudice and racial tensions in this world were even worse than in Spyre.

 They even had to wear weird clothes: with Adaine's jacket having been transformed into a leather pouch that hung around her waist and her clothes replaced with a light blue flowy dress-robe thing that made her look like even more of a stereotype since she'd grown her hair out.

 The only highlight was that, no matter how long they spent in this world, only one month would have passed in their own by the time they got back.

 Adaine didn't like her principle most of the time, but she was always glad that he knew chronomancy.

---------

Do you guys want to see more?

#dimension 20: fantasy high #dimension 20 fanfiction #dimension 20 #fantasy high #adaine abernant #gandalf #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

6. The King’s Share

Aria packed a knapsack appropriate for her travels. She chose outfits that were easy for travels; wouldn't snag or trip her. She packed extras, such as handkerchiefs and an umbrella, and of course she packed food. Aria took along her daggers, which the boys had gifted her after she had completed training in weapon wielding. She left her bakery to her coworkers and borrowed a pony as she set off on her adventure.

She traveled along the Lhûn River, through the Hills of Evendim, and eventually got on the East road. It had been a while since Aria had been out in Arda. She hadn't ever left the dwarf town, so all her traveling had been long ago, when she was a child. Aria couldn't pin exactly what was wrong, but she could feel something sick in the air. Eventually she arrived at Bree, and stopped for a proper rest before leaving again at dawn.

It was nightfall when Aria found herself along the Weather hills, lost in the woods. The sky was overhanging; there was a storm coming, and it was an omen for something bad. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard wolves.

She didn't come this far to be eaten by wolves! Aria needed to throw them off her scent, and the only other creature they could chase was the pony. Aria had a heart for animals, but right now it was the question of her life. She could pay back the pony's owner when they got back to Erebor. Because once they were back in Erebor...

Aria jumped down the pony and took off some essentials, burying them by a landmark tree. After one last caress, she smacked the pony and sent it yelping and running into the forest while she herself took off towards the cliff.

It was a tough climb without the pony, but survival instincts kept her going. The closer she got to the mouth of the cliff, the more she felt warmth. She prayed to all the stars that it was her company, and not something that was planning to make a meal out of her.

"Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood." 

Oh, the boys! She heard them from her spot, from where she could see the ponies sleeping. Aria breathed a sigh of relief and had almost sprinted out past her tree when-

"You think that's funny?" Thorin's warning stopped her.

"You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" "We didn't mean anything by it." She could hear the remorse in their voice.

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." She heard the pain in his voice. "Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs." A new voice stepped in. "After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first."

Aria stayed pressed against the tree, listening to the tale of Battle of Moria, the fight that took her father.

"Agog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. And our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast nor song that night for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, here is one who I could follow. There is one... I could call king."

The tears on her hands snapped her out of the daydream. By now all the dwarves had awoken, listening to the legend of Thorin Oakenshield. Their king. Her king. And she would forever stand by him as his queen.

"And the pale Orc? What happened to him?" Asked a voice she didn't recognize.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago." Aria heard his voice coming closer and rushed to hide herself.

 Thorin felt pride and sorrow as he stood at the edge of the cliff, watching his company stand respectfully for him. The true story of Moria was one he hadn't told anyone, not even the boys. He felt the open air constricting him and stormed off towards the trees for a walk.

He was on edge already from the boys' joke, and the ruffling in the trees didn't help. He turned towards the noise once, but found nothing. He'd killed the pale orc, there was nothing he couldn't take on. Thorin heard a noise again and walked backwards, a plan in his mind. He zigzagged through some trees and came back around, in front of him was someone hooded.

Thorin took out his sword and creeped forward towards his prey. He positioned his hand to cover the person's mouth, his sword ready to thrust forward. Thorin jumped, covering the creature's mouth and turned them around, pressing them against the tree. She squealed behind his palm, afraid from the ambush and the sword tip pressed threateningly hard into her neck.

Thorin blinked a few times. Was this his mind's way of calming him down? Oh no, not again! Not here. But he felt her warm face and her blood rushing beneath his palm. The possibility of her actually being here was worse.

He let her go and stumbled back, and Aria lifted from the tree, taking in deep breaths.

"A-Aria?"

"Hi!" She heaved in reply.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"You left a map in my house. I couldn't just let you go."

Thorin leaned against a tree, arms folded as he watched her.

"I asked you to wait." The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, remembering his claim to her.

"Yes. But you didn't ask me to stay behind."

Thorin knew there was a reason he liked her. He couldn't do with a housewife queen.

"And I can lift my own weight. Fight for myself." She suddenly pulled out her daggers from her waist, swinging them around.

Thorin smiled and pushed off the tree, then walked towards her until he had her pinned again.

"You shouldn't have to."

"But I can. I invited myself along. I'm not asking you to take responsibility for me."

Thorin tipped his forehead to hers, holding her close to him.

"How can I not? You're mine."

Aria pressed her nose against his, snuggling herself into his body.

"Forever."

Thorin leaned back and kissed her head before letting go, walking back towards the camp.

"I've never heard the story before." Aria told him.

"It's not one I enjoy sharing."

She let him have his silence before continuing.

"My father died in Moria." She confessed.

Thorin stopped to look at her.

"Then he must have been a great warrior. I am forever in his debt." He took her hand and kissed it, holding it all the way back to camp.

"Uh, hello? Who's..." the halfling stuttered.

"Ria!" Fili and Kili shouted and ran through the hobbit, almost tackling the dwarrow.

"I didn't know you were coming!"'

"Why didn't you just come with us?"

"Did you bring food?"

"Boys! Leave her alone." Thorin pulled her away, taking her to Gandalf.

"Aria, this is..."

"Gandalf the Grey, I assume?" Aria cut in and curtsied to the wizard. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, my dear."

He next introduced her to the dwarves that hadn't lived in their town, saving the halfling for last.

"And this is Bilbo Baggins."

"How do you do?" Bilbo asked her.

"Fine, thank you. What are you doing with a company of dwarves?"

"He's a burglar!"

"Kili!" Aria chided.

"He's the 14th member of our company." Thorin informed her as he led her to the fire.

"If there's supposed to be 14, where does she fit?" Ori asked.

"Yeah, how will the treasure split now?" another dwarf asked.

"Well she'll be with me of course!" Fili claimed.

"Why you of course?" Kili whined. "She could have mine."

"I love her more than you do!" Fili defended himself.

"No you don't!" Kili argued.

While the boys argued, the rest of the company watched Aria and Thorin sitting by the fire, talking between themselves and smiling.

"Boys!" Dwalin barked to shut them up.

Fili and Kili joined the others in their staring.

"I think she'll have the king's share."

"Works for me!" The brothers winked.

ch5 ch7

#rdhb #there is love in you #tiliy

[xellshun]

DXM

So here’s a little something I like to talk about from time to time. For starters, I am a sociopath, if you don’t know what that is then look it up if you want because it’s a lot to explain. But let’s just say this means I’m incapable of feeling things like empathy, remorse, guilt, and shame.

So with the fact that I am emotionally and mentally colder than normal people, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel other negative feelings. With that being said I have gone through my fair share of drug and alcohol abuse and over the years there was one drug that just seemed to solve everything that my disorder couldn’t. For some, it’s meth, for others, it’s pain pills, and for some, it’s alcohol. I’ve tried basically everything, I’ve even tried drugs that don’t have names yet. But there was one drug that just stood out from the rest.

The drug has many names and terms associated with it - Tripple C’s, Robo Tripping, The Poor Man’s PCP, and so on... But for me, I stuck with the simple name - DXM.

Before I share my story I do NOT condone the use of this substance and will encourage anyone reading this to steer clear of it. The purpose of this is just to share my story.

I won’t ramble on about when my abuse started or why I began abusing it. This is more focused on the experience itself. SO! DXM stands for dextromethorphan. What is it? Easy, it’s cough medicine. Yeah, childish right? Well for me it didn’t matter and what makes this drug so dangerous is the fact that you can buy it anywhere without a script, it’s extremely cheap, it’s not illegal, and doesn’t show up in drug tests...

I won’t go about giving details about the unique routine I perfected over the years to get high off of this drug because I don’t want anyone reading this to copy it and end up fucking killing themselves or anyone else. Not that I give a shit but I won’t have that coming back on me. I will also not be mentioning dosage amounts, what brands I used, where exactly to get them, or how much this stuff costs. But what I will go into detail about is the high itself, what I felt, and what it was like. And if, for some reason, YOU decide to try this shit. Do it at your own risk. I used my own body as a test rat before I figured out exactly how to achieve my desired high without causing myself or others harm and I’m fucking LUCKY for that...

So let’s begin:

Stage one - The preparation dosage. I would always start out by eating a well balanced meal, making sure I had a means of getting fresh water, accessibility to a bathroom in case I got sick, a way of calling for help if needed, and I always made sure to seclude myself. I would then begin dosing up. Taking so many at a time on a strict schedule over the course of 30 minutes. After that I would wait for the first plateau of the high to take hold. The first stage is pretty mild. The first effects you’ll feel are a mild form of numbness throughout your body, your lips will begin to tingle, your vision will begin to become slightly blurred, and you’ll feel an overall sense of euphoric calmness. Once this stage was finished I would proceed with the next. But This stage was a must. Taking more than what my routine called for too quickly would cause me to get sick which would ruin the high. The goal of this stage was to push my body far enough under the influence that my stomach would then be unable to feel the fact that I was overdosing on a substance it would recognize as poison.

Stage two - The waves of calmness. Over the next hour or so I would slowly begin taking waves of this medicine in quantities that amount to half, equal to, or times 1 and 1/2 as much as the first dosage. How I felt as each wave kicked in would determine how much I would take on the next. This would be enough to take me to a level of intoxication between the second and third plateau of the high in a couple hours with the climax of the high hitting around hour 3. At this level I would feel a physical numbness in my skin equal to what you would feel on a high dose of pain pills. At this stage I would also experience my favorite part, the emotional and mental numbness. It wouldn’t matter how I was feeling before I would get high, it would feel as if every negative feeling inside my heart and mind would just slowly fade. Just imagine in. Imagine that no matter what discomfort you are feeling. This high will make it all go away, leaving you in a state of harmony... Along with that, this is the point where visual and auditory hallucinations begin to kick in. They were never anything scarry, nightmarish, or anything that would cause me to go out and randomly attack someone because I though they were lizard people. No, hallucinations are actually very timid and for me, amusing. I remember a time I was outside at 2am having a smoke, I looked off into the distant fields near the park and track just beyond my yard. And I remember seeing fireworks flying into the air just passed the tree line about 200 yards away. They didn’t look like normal fireworks and there was no sound. If you’ve ever watched the first Lord of The Rings movie where Gandalf is shooting off fireworks in the shire, it was similar to that, they looked like they were alive. A lot of my hallucinations were filled with lights that appeared without a source, they would dance and zip around the room like bugs and would even form the shapes of tiny people who would wave at me. Another common hallucination is what I like to call “sand people.” It’s where I would stare into space and right before my eyes, particles and clumps of colored sand would appear in front of me. They would move around slowly forming all kinds of shapes. If I wanted them to vanish I would just shake my head and let them reappear. So at this point, the high was overall very calming, there was no pain, no fear, no stress, no anxiety, no depression, no sadness... It was just pure... Peace... For each person I imagine the things you see and hear will be different, but these are just examples of the “pros” of the high for me.

Stage three - Beyond the safe zone. As you can probably guess, there is a fourth plateau. This level of the high is where it can become frightening and possibly even life threatening. BUT I’ve gone to and far beyond this level. There were only a handful of times where I considered calling an ambulence but never did. Not because I wanted to die, but because I was in such a messed up state of mind I just said “fuck it.” Anyways, so during these days where I decided to send my soul to a parallel universe I was, thankfully, alone because at this point the side effects become so intense that it’s impossible to hide the fact that you are CLEARLY fucked up on something. During the second and third plateau you’ll start to experience dificulties walking and talking, much like you would with alcohol but it is slightly different. Anyways, at and beyond the fourth plateau these side effects become very strong. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to slowly crawl to the bathroom because I couldn’t walk. Not only do you become very physically impaired but at this point you will begin to loose your grip on reality. The hallucinations will become so powerful that you will experience temporary fits of delirium and psychosis. Yes, I’m serious.. For me it was like having a messed up dream that made no sense but I was wide awake and watching it play before my eyes but I was also inside the dream outside my own body... This made everything very confusing and often times I would also go through moments where my brain would race so fast that I couldn’t focus on anything... Literally. I called this side effect “The Haze.” Things would only get worse too. Slowly I would start to feel my bodily functions just... Turn off... Like I was breathing and alive but only with the most basic functions. I called this stage “Zombie Mode” because it was pretty much a mode where the lights are on upstairs but no ones home. Ready for the frightening side effects? Yeah, haven’t got there yet... Imagine you get your body and mind so far under the influence of this drug that one of your eyes LITERALLY AND ACTUALLY shuts off temporarily. Yes, this is a very real side effect that I have witnessed, temporary fucking blindness... Oh, how about uncontrollable muscle spasms that are so random and strong that it literally feels like invisible people are grabbing you and shaking your limbs? Or how about if every time you try to move, your muscles are so disfunctional that it actually feels like you have dead meat inside of you, just sitting there, weighing you down. Not only this but the hallucinations can, at this point, become nightmarish. For me, I was so used to it that I always just closed my eyes, covered my ears and would tell myself “It’s just the drugs, it’s just the drugs, it’s not real, don’t freak out, just let it wear off!” And I can’t even begin to tell you how confused and delusional you become at this point. At this stage it becomes a battle of mind over matter. So unless your pretty fearless like me, this stage might cause real harm... So yeah, it kind of feels like your body is slowly shutting down and dieing underneath you without the pain or suffering. It’s a side effect called “Ego Death.” The only GOOD part about this stage is that the physical, emotional, and mental numbess are still present and very strong. So a lot of times I was still very unmoved by what was happening to my body. This is a level I do not like to go to because of the negative side effects. The small amount of times that I did reach this point was for one simple reason, I was just too high to know any better before hand and took too much too fast. Oh and guess what else? You can’t have sex on this drug. Men can’t achieve erections, women can’t get wet, and neither can reach orgasm. At least not without the help of other drugs. So don’t plan on fuckin’ while you trip out on this shit... And let’s not forget the come down!... It’s not that bad, haha. There’s no hangover waiting for you after the come down too. The come down is just very slow, you’ll feel your bodily functions start to turn back on, things will become more clear, the feeling in your skin will come back in the form of a tingling feeling, your inner organs will start to become warm (yes you can feel it). You’ll have waves of what feels like...(How do I describe this)... Ever seen the Poltergiest movies? I think it’s one of those... A scene where someone is pulled from the fucking ghost dimension from a portal covered in fucking slime? Yeah, kind of feels like that. I call it the “Rebirth” stage. And yes, you will sweat out layers of the drug. It will be a cold and abnormally thick sweat though... Hence the slime reference. BUT at the end of the road, no hang over, no headaches, no upset stomach, you just... Go back to normal. Often times I go into a deep sleep for 12 hours and wake up feeling at 120%. So I guess you could say the come down could be both negative and positive? Depending on your opinion? For me the come down was very soothing so I never hated it..

So that’s just a glimpse into what I was going through for what was about 4 years. Those four years happening during the development of my disorder, ASPD, as well.

So why did I do it? Besides the fact that it was readily available, cheap, legal, and untraceable.... It was the mental and emotional numbness that I fell in love with... It’s not that the drug was bringing me any one type of feeling... It was the drug taking all my feelings away and allowing an overwhelming sense of peace and calmness over take me. It was my escape from reality. My way out. It was like mentally getting into a rocket ship and just blasting off into space on an adventure in my head. In fact, often times I would simply follow my own rules, get high, sit myself down in front of my TV and play video games. I would get immersed in the games and forget about the struggles of real life...

Oh and just another fair warning for you all. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT EVER mix this shit with ANY other substance, especially alcohol!! I promise you it will end badly, trust me, I would know...

So what the fuck does this have to do with my disorder and the fact that I’m a sociopath? It was just another way of completing myself. I already have a lack of many emotions due to my disorder, so for me, it was finishing myself off. Making myself completely void of any and all emotion.

Do I think this drug had any kind of effect on making my disorder worse?.. It’s possible. But their were many factors that caused my disorder to get worse over the course of the last 7 years since it started to develope. So it’s hard to tell.

Do I think this drug has caused any permanent damage to me in any way? That I’m not so sure about either. I’ve done my own research on this drug and there just isn’t alot of solid information on it because this isn’t a drug that is commonly brought up when you think of individuals suffering from substance abuse. It’s just not up there on the high ranks along side substances like opiates, stimulants, and alcohol.

So what kind of drug is DXM anyways? It’s what’s known as a dissociative anesthetic hallucinogen and is commonly compared to hard drugs such as PCP and Acid. Does this mean when you take cold medicine you could get high on accident? No. At proper dosages cold medicine acts as a cough supressent. You have to overdose greatly in order for it to act as a hallucinogen.

Am I still currently using this drug? Yes, but very rarely. I only use it when I know 100% I can do it safely, without being noticed, without hurting myself or anyone else. And since I am currently on probation with just one month left and also attending counseling... Well let’s just say I keep this shit strictly to myself and do it very secretly. The last thing I want is to end up back in jail. So don’t be concerned, you don’t have to worry about the possibility of a sociopathic guy running around town high off his ass in the middle of the night... Do I want to stop? Yeah of course. Relying on a fucking drug to feel “okay” kind of fucking sucks. Will I stop? I don’t know... Only time will tell...

So.. Is it addictive? Yes and no. Not in the same way that heroin and meth are. You won’t get withdrawal symptoms after coming off of it...

It’s more of an addiction to the “lack there of” when it comes to your emotions and mentality...

It doesn’t give you what you want, it takes away what you don’t want...

And for me, during my darkest hours of life, that is exactly what I crave...

#sociopath #aspd #drugs #addiction

[zi-i-think]

Hey everyone! I’m so sad to say that my chapter isn’t even close to done. I’ve been swamped with homework, studying, etc. Maybe enjoy this chapter of an old Mavel fanfic that I started but never continued. After Her Sun His Moon I might pick the idea back up, but only time will tell. Love you all lots! And hang loose, amigos 🤙🏼

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Cleo (OC)

Rating: M

Word count: 2200+

~~~

       Boom!

       "I'm too young to die!"

       Bang!

       "What did I do to deserve this?... don't answer that."

       Bang! Bang! Bang!

       "Cleo, shut up and keep shooting!"

       "We're running out of ammo and there's no way we can get past all those guys!"

       There's nothing worse than getting shot at, by the people you once called family and shooting back at them with an odd band of people who tried to arrest you not too long ago. Might as well crawl back to the pits of hell and play poker with satan.

       "Damn it!" I grumble. I then proceed to throw my machine gun on the floor and slide further down the cover of the flipped taxi. "Out of bullets," I tell my partner who stands to my left and shooting from a gun of his own. I feel bad for the guy. No one forced us to be partners, let alone be willing to die for one another. Just a couple of months ago we hated each other's guts. Yet here we are. Firing bullets like rain falls from the sky in order to not let the other get shot.

       He furrows his eyebrow with a confused look, kneeling closer to me. "We're gonna get out of this, Cleo. I promise you." He assures me.

       I give him a sad smile as I place my hand behind his neck before pulling him down to kiss him. I don't know when or if I'd even see this man ever again. But, I really hope I do. It was a hungry and passionate kiss, but too short, even shorter than those damn hobbits. I pull away but he keeps his face no more than an inch from mine. "I love you."

       I don't give him a chance to react to the very sudden and magical words before slipping out of his grasp and emerge from behind the taxi. I create my triangular forcefield to prevent the bullets, not fast enough, though, since one skimmed my arm. I don't even realize it due to the adrenaline but-

       Too far into the story, my bad. In order for you to really know what all this is about, we need to start from the beginning of the weirdest time in my life. It started at McDonald's, actually.

       "Order for John Mulaney." The soulless employee announces in monotone. The name makes one head turn in the empty area, only for them to sigh in disappointment when John Mulaney did not come to this McDonald's. It was just me. A shit-hole of a person, having a normal night of eating fries and nuggets after an assassination job.

       I wanted the Happy Meal, but they refused to let me order that because I'm "too old". I'm not a motherfucking senior citizen like that Captain America, who looks good enough to, in fact, fuck the mothers of America.

       "Ugh." I gag, spitting my half-chewed nugget back into the box. Jesus, what do they put in this? Semen? I reach for my Frappuccino, the caramel one, of course, and take a sip in order to get rid of the not-even-close-to-chicken taste out of my mouth. And while setting the drink back on the table, the napkin that I used before now has black writing on it.

       I look around the barren restaurant, looking for a suspicious person. Only, I'm the only person here, other than a group of drunk college girls in the corner. It's only 11 pm, what are they doing back from whatever party they went to? That's pathetic. Looking back at the napkin, I pick it up to read it better.

(718)-334-7876

11:20 pm sharp.

       Probably someone looking to hire. But, why contact me with a napkin. A pigeon would be more practical. Alas, it's on a napkin. I've had people contact me discretely in many ways. A brick, calling through a phone, letters, notes on my motorcycle, but never on a napkin. I also don't understand why this person couldn't just come up and talk to me. The place is empty after all... Like my soul.

       My left-hand digs into my back pocket for my phone. Setting my hand lazily of the table with the phone resting in it, it lights up to read 11:18 over my black lock-screen with the words "Fuck off" in bold, white letters in the middle. He did say 11:20 sharp. Should I wait the extra two minutes? No, I'm too impatient and also don't give any fucks.

       My fingers dial the number as written and press the call button. Tapping my fingers on the table rhythmically as the phone rings. I hope it's a politician job. Better yet, one who doesn't believe in climate change! Putting a bullet through one of their thick heads can be fun and stress-relieving.

       "You called too early." A raspy and familiar voice on the other side appears.

       "It's 11:20 somewhere in the world." I quip, plopping a fry in my mouth. "Now, what's the point of this call, Frank?"

       "My name isn't Frank." He gruffs.

       "Luke?" I guess again.

       "Cl-"

       "I know what your name is." I interrupt him, leaning back in my chair with a cocky smirk. "It's Gandalf, right?"

       The other line is silent while I lightly snicker to myself. I know I can be a little... much. But what's a little pestering, right? I was never that good at socializing, though. I have what you call "people-problems". Simply put, I don't like people too much and they don't like me in return. Which is why I make such a great business partner.

       "Cleo, we have a job for you." Right we're back to that.

       "How was your brief vacation, Frank?" Silence. Again. The fact that I am still alive despite getting everyone to hate me is astonishing. Really, I have made so many enemies just by talking. Whether it be by calling them a nasty word or confusing their gender, I can always offend someone. Even with the simplicity of calling this man Frank.

       "Can you be professional for once?" He lets out a breathy plead. "It wouldn't kill ya."

       "No, it wouldn't kill me." I sigh in agreement. "but it does take the joy out of things, such as killing others. Which is why you called."

       "Come to the house and you'll be given all the information."

       "Woah Woah Woah Woah." I raise my eyebrows as I interrupt my little acquaintance for this millionth time during this one phone call. "Woah. You think I'm actually going to take this job?"

       "Come on, Cleo." I roll my eyes already as I reach for my frappuccino for another long sip. "It's been over a year now and-"

       "Ahhh." I hiss, my left hand find their way for my forehead and shut my eyes up tightly. This pain. One of the worst a person can get, no later how trained and pain tolerant I get, I can always feel this pain.

       "Cleo?" Not-Frank's raspy voice is sounded through the phone. "Cleo, are you alright?" Worry? Coming from not-Frank? The last time that's been a thing was a couple of years ago when I almost threw him off a building. If your wondering about that, well long story short, there was a lot of suspicion between the families and not-Frank got caught in the middle of a lot of things.

       "Yep," I grunt, finally removing my hands from my forehead. "Damn. Been shot multiple times and a brain-freeze will always be one of the worst pain I will ever experience. Now, what were we discussing? Oh right. The fact that I am 100 percent done with you guys."

       "You know, you're lucky to be alive. The Boss never lets anyone leave and you were somehow able to waltz right out the door. Tell me, Cleo. How did you really get out." His voice was beginning to sound like a snake. It was low and airy, just the right amount of that lovely threatening tone that people get so scared of.

       "Well I didn't really 'waltz' out of the door, I'm not much of a dancer. It was more of a strut, really."

       "Dio mio." He mutters under his breath. I presume he is also burying his face in his hand at the moment.

       "You don't believe in God, Frank." I playfully scold him. "Oh, while I have you on the phone I need to ask you something. So, if you ran a night club and you were about to be assassinated by a quite gorgeous female. Would you prefer to be killed with a jagged or smooth knife?"

       "Cleo–"

       "Cause the smooth ones are a bit faster, but for some reason, they spray more blood and I was planning on wearing a new coat I bought. And the–"

       "Just shut up and listen to me!" He snapped, the sound of his fist banging on the table clear, even through the phone. My mouth still hangs open as a sort of offended look becomes present on my face. Most people know better than to raise their voice at me since I've been known to be a little violent to those who disrespect me. Though, this instance was different because of one: if you haven't noticed, not-Frank and I aren't even in the same room. And two: I know that the boss is probably waiting for not-Frank to return to his office and let him know that I'll be one my way. And when the boss requests you to do something, there's a lot of pressure to get it done fast.

       Both sides of the phone are dead silent as I wait for the man to start talking again. Maybe ten seconds after the outburst, I hear a low murmur from not-Frank. "So she can be quiet." I bite down on my tongue, hard, to stop myself from making a snarky comment. "Don Caruso is hoping that you can come over to the house."

       I scoff. Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in. Don't get me wrong. I want to say no. After all, when I left, I was hoping to leave behind the whole mafia sha-bang, too. But I know a few things. Like the fact that I will be getting paid pretty nicely for this. And also the fact that business has been a bit slow lately and being able to tell clients that the New York crime boss practically begged to hire me will boost my independent business.

       "Give me a couple of hours to get there," I tell him. "And make sure that statue in the front yard is covered up with a sheet or something. The horse's eyes freak me out." Hanging up the phone, my jewelry barren hand grabs the yellow tray with all the greasy food as I stand and throw it all away in the trash.

       I take a couple of steps out the door and stop. My senses heighten and my head turns to look to my left. The light from inside the restaurant is what allows me to get a somewhat good look at the homeless man walking on the sidewalk with a slight limb from his left leg. The man's dark beard is disheveled and I can only assume that his hair is pulled back but with the gray hood over I'm not completely sure. Something about him felt off. And when you're in my kind of business, you learn that your intuitions are usually right.

       The man wears old blue jeans, a grey hoodie with another red jacket over it, and black tennis shoes, which isn't out of the ordinary when it comes to homeless people. What is out of the ordinary is that his nails are pretty clean and his clothes, while they were old, were in the okay condition. Meaning there aren't any holes, rips, dirt or stains. It was like it was just bought at a thrift store.

       I begin walking with purpose in his direction, pretending not to notice him until I bump into him roughly. He loses his balance and falls on his knees as I turn in 'shock.' "Oh my goodness," I gasp. "I am so sorry." I reach down, my right-hand grabs his right arm as I help him off the ground. Discretely while doing this, I slide his sleeve up, getting a glimpse of a high tech watch. "You know, impersonating the homeless is really disrespectful."

       Not a second after that sentence falls from my lips, a gun is pulled out from the man's hoodie and he points it straight at me. Where from his hoodie? I don't fucking know. What I do know is that I was tracked by none other than the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.

       S.H.I.E.L.D.

       I was tracked by S.H.I.E.L.D.

#her sun his moon #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #captain america #marvel fanfiction #fanfic snippet

[d3-iseefire]

To Chase The Rising Sun Chapter 3

Note: I was going to post this later but I had several people ask about it so I decided to move it up and post it now! :D

"I don't like this."

Fili ignored his brother and continued to carefully plait the standard four braids back into his hair. It was still wet from the bath, but it would have to do.

It wasn't what he'd expected to be doing, even after accepting Miss Baggins' proposal. For some reason, he'd been convinced they'd have a long betrothal and marry after reclaiming the mountain.

When he'd said as much to Miss Baggins she'd given him a baleful look and said, "do you understand what surety is?"

The deadpan tone had been unnecessary, in his opinion, as had what he was sure was a snide remark Mandar had chirped at him.

In any event, it had been left to him to explain to his uncle that he'd agreed to Miss Baggins' terms in return for her guarantee that she'd rid Erebor of its dragon infestation (her words).

Before his uncle could say something that would probably get them all exiled from the Shire, Balin and Dwalin had unceremoniously grabbed him and dragged him outside. Fili had no idea what was said but, when his uncle returned, he'd grudgingly given his blessing.

After that, Miss Baggins had shown him to a room with an attached bath as he refused to attend his impromptu wedding covered in the dirt and grime of travel. He'd bathed quickly and had barely exited into the small room when Kili had barged in to let him know exactly what he thought about the whole thing.

In some respects, he was worse than Thorin.

"You don't have to like it." Fili scowled at his tunic before grabbing it to pull over the trousers and boots he'd already put on. It was an extra one he'd packed, which meant it was fresher, but it didn't mean it was clean.  

"She can't just force you to marry her!" Kili argued. He was standing in the open doorway of the room, arms crossed, and eyebrows drawn together in the way he got when he was particularly agitated.

"She's not forcing me," Fili corrected. He reached for the first of his weapons and strapped it on. He'd left his swords and a few of the larger pieces at the front door but kept the rest on. He was so used to them that not having them on left him feeling exposed. "She made an offer and I accepted it. I could have walked away."

"You should walk away," Kili insisted, making a slashing gesture with his hand. "We don't need her."

"Then why did we even come here?" Fili demanded. His fingers caught on a knot in his hair and he growled as it pulled at his scalp. "This entire thing is predicated on our ability to get the help from the Shirelings. Without her we don't have a chance."

"Then we'll ask someone else for help," Kili insisted. "Someone who doesn't have unreasonable demands."

"At which point you'd find out I was the reasonable one," a voice said dryly from the hall just behind Kili.

He and Fili both turned as one to see Miss Baggins lounging against the wall on the far side of the narrow corridor, arms crossed, and one foot idly propped in front of the other. Mandar was sitting upright on her shoulder, tail draped behind her neck and trailing down her opposite arm.

Fili cursed under his breath. Wonderful. Barely a half hour and his uncle and brother had both managed to insult her. He was pretty sure it was a new record. "Our apologies," he said, with a glare at his brother when the other looked about to object. "My brother meant no respect. He's simply concerned--"

He trailed off as Miss Baggins pushed upright and came to stand in the doorway. She behaved as if Kili wasn't there, forcing him to step back and make room for her. Mandar hissed at him but settled for glaring when Miss Baggins hushed him.

Unlike him, Fili noted, she appeared to have made no changes. Her dark hair was still tied back into a low bun and she wore the same trousers, boots and blouse she'd had on when they'd first met.

She tilted her head, nodding down the hall toward the living room. "We're ready for you."

"I'll be right there," Fili promised. She nodded and left, Mandar chattering away at her.

Kili shook his head. "Mom and Dad are going to be pissed."

Fili flinched. "They'll understand I did my duty." He frowned at his brother. "Miss Baggins isn't a monster, Kili. You don't have to act as if this is some sort of death sentence."

"You have no idea what kind of person she is," Kili retorted. "For all you know, she could be planning to kill you in your sleep."

"Well, that would just be stupid," Miss Baggins' voice called from down the hall. "I wouldn't do it here. I'd wait until we were in the woods and blame it on a wolf."

Fili shut his eyes and forced himself to count to ten. Twice. Then he opened them and, with a pointed look at his brother, strode past him and out of the room.  

Time to get this over with before Miss Baggins' good humor gave out.

At the rate his uncle and brother were going he seriously doubted he was the one in danger of being killed in their sleep.

                                                         ***

The ceremony was brief.

His uncle went first and had them both recite the traditional vows before each had a small piece of hair cut. The two sections were then braided together, blessed and thrown into the fire to symbolize that their union was eternal, forged in fire and unbreakable.

It was at that exact moment, as he watched the braid disintegrate in the flames that Fili finally, truly got the enormity of what he'd just done.

He'd always been taught that the decision to marry was important and not something to rush into. You chose once and that was it, so you'd better be certain of the choice you'd made. He'd agreed for the good of his people, and to fulfill his duty as their future king and he was confident it had been the right decision.

But watching that braid disintegrate took that decision and really drove home the truth of what he'd agreed to do.

The finality.

The enormity.

Eternal.

He now had a wife. A woman he'd be expected to care for, protect and stand by for all the rest of his days. Every day he'd wake up next to someone who would be his companion, his confidant, someone who was going to know him potentially better than anyone else.

One day there even existed the possibility of children that would be looking to him as their father.

It was such a massive change to his life and the realization that he'd agreed to it so flippantly, that it had happened so quickly rocked him.

It was while he was still trying to process the whole thing that Gandalf stepped forward to perform a ceremony in the tradition of the Shire.

It too, was incredibly short.  

Too short, really, given what it represented.

"Do you, Fili, son of Vili, take Miss Baggins as your mate, to fight for tooth and claw, to guard as your most precious treasure, for now and all the days to come?"

Fili agreed. Or at least he thought he had. His throat was dry and his heart hammered as if he faced a legion of orcs but he must have gotten some form of assent out because the vow was repeated to Miss Baggins who appeared as calm and unflappable as she'd been the first time he'd seen her.

Less than an hour ago.

He heard her agree and then Fili went from starting his day single to ending it married.  

Throughout it all, he could feel the presence of the rest of the company standing in silence behind him, all but Kili who'd been making disapproving noises throughout.  

Fili felt as if he had a better understanding of why they disapproved so strongly.

He'd been thinking of Erebor and the greater good.

They'd been thinking of him, and the magnitude of what he'd agreed to do.

In the end, none of it mattered though, did it? What was done was done. If it led to them getting back Erebor it'd be worth it, wouldn't it?

Besides, it was as he'd told Kili, it wasn't like he'd married a monster.

He'd just married a complete stranger was all.

He turned toward her to say...something, but the spot next to him stood empty.

He thought perhaps she'd had the same realization he had and wished for some time to process, but that belief was soon dispelled by the sound of Mandar chattering in the kitchen and her answering him in a low voice.

Fili stayed where he was, unsure of what he should do next.

Several members of the Company came forward to congratulate him. Most of them seemed uncomfortable, particularly those he didn't know as well and had only really meant about the same time he'd met Miss Baggins. The only exception was Nori who seemed to be fighting a grin as if he found the entire thing hilarious.

"What's done is done," his uncle said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now let's hope she can hold up her end of the bargain."

He wandered off, which left Fili facing his brother. Kili had his arms crossed and his eyes were dark. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I, little brother," Fili said with feeling. "So do I."

                                                         ***

An hour later, Fili wasn't entirely convinced the marriage had even taken place. It had felt surreal when it happened, and the passage of time hadn't changed that feeling.

He'd barely seen his new wife since they'd exchanged vows. Her near obsession over him had seemingly evaporated as soon as they were married. Suddenly, he was being treated no differently than any other member of their group, as if the ceremony had never even taken place.

Thinking she was still adjusting to her new, married status, he'd held back and tried to give her space as she began to show everyone where they could bed down for the night. His uncle and Gandalf were given rooms, while the rest of the group were shown to spots in the living room or office area.

He and Kili were left standing off to the side, a fact Fili didn't think much about, until she gestured them to follow her down the hall. She shoved the door open to the small room he'd used earlier and said, "you two can sleep here." Then, before Fili could react, she turned and walked out.

Fili followed and saw her stop at a door set in the very end of the hall. She started to turn the knob, only to pause as Mandar chattered at her. "Really?" she said to him. "You couldn't have reminded me earlier?" Mandar made an apologetic noise, and Miss Baggins sighed. She spun back around and headed toward the front of the house, passing by Fili as if he wasn't even there.

"Did she just kick you out of her room before you even got in?" Kili asked from behind him.

"It would appear she did," Fili said. What in the world was going on? She demanded he marry her, immediately, and then promptly ignored him? "Perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot." Maybe she'd had time to think about the numerous times his family had insulted her and started to rethink him as a result. He honestly wouldn't be able to blame her.

"You don't know one another enough to know which foot is which," Kili grumbled. "This could be her in a good mood."

Fili frowned. Then he very deliberately went and dropped his pack on the ground outside of what he assumed was her door. He set his jaw and faced the direction she'd gone. "Wish me luck."

Kili snorted. "I think you're going to need more than that." He shook his head and shut the door, leaving Fili in the hall.

Fili sighed and headed back toward the living room. The lanterns had been turned to a dim glow, leaving the area little more than a shadowy chamber filled with various sleeping lumps. Fili didn't see Miss Baggins but a light breeze from the kitchen caught his attention and he followed it to the open back door of the smial.

Through it, he could see Miss Baggins standing on the paving stones that made up her back porch. Mandar was perched on her forearm, wings outstretched. As Fili drew near, he could hear her speaking to him in a low voice.  

"You don't go higher than the hill and you stay in the field, do you understand?"

Mandar chirped at her and flapped his wings, bobbing up and down on her arm.

She started to say something else but stopped as Mandar caught sight of him and chirruped. Miss Baggins didn't turn, but he saw her head incline slightly toward him. Taking it as permission, Fili went to stand near her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She scowled at him and then gently grabbed the edge of Mandar's wing and stretched it out. "It's important for younger dragons to fly as much as possible when they're growing. Otherwise the wings can end up weak or deformed." Her scowl deepened and her eyes narrowed at the small dragon. "Usually this is done in groups, during the day while supervised but someone forgot to remind me he hadn't done it today."

Mandar settled back on her arm and chattered at her. Fili had no idea what he'd said but, judging from his smug tone and Miss Baggins's irritated tsk, he imagined it was smartass.

"Fifteen minutes," Miss Baggins growled. She crouched just a bit and then stood up quickly, thrusting her arm up as she did. Mandar leapt off, wings snapping out and fell into a low glide down the hill and into the large clearing below the hill. It was a full moon and the area was lit enough that they could see him as a tiny, shadowy dot darting back and forth low over the grass.

Miss Baggins settled back on her heels, arms crossed, and eyes fixed on the tiny dragon. As he stood next to her, Fili struggled to think of something, anything to say to try and break the ice. His mind chose that moment to go completely blank and, as the minutes stretched, it became harder and harder to think of anything to say.

Before he knew it, Mandar was flying back up the hill. Miss Baggins held her arm out and he landed on it in a whirl of wings, tiny chest tiny chest heaving, large eyes almost snapping with unrestrained energy and excitement.

Miss Baggins carried him inside, and Fili followed, pulling the door closed behind them.

The only noise that greeted them as they entered the living room was the quiet breathing of the rest of the company. The hallway was dark as well, the only light the faintest flicker coming from under Miss Baggins' door.

Miss Baggins paused before it and frowned down at the pack he'd left earlier. "What's this?"

"My pack," Fili explained. He reached past her to grab it and dragged it over his shoulder.

"Your pack?" Miss Baggins repeated blankly. "I gave you the room with your brother."

"That you did," Fili agreed, keeping his tone even. "Is it not customary in the Shire for a husband and wife to share a bedroom?"

He realized as he was speaking that it might in fact not be a custom in the Shire for all he knew. Some humans, he knew, had odd customs where couples would each have their own room connected by a common room between them. Fili had always found it the strangest thing. Why marry someone and then not wish to share a room with them?

Even as he thought it, however, he realized that couldn't be the case here. Miss Baggins hadn't offered him an adjoining room. She'd offered him an entirely different room, which meant...he had no idea what it meant.

She blinked at him. Fili met her eyes and returned her gaze steadily.

"I don't like strangers in my bedroom," she said finally. Her voice was low, and it was almost as if she weren't even talking to him, but to herself.

Then you shouldn't have married me, Fili thought. He didn't say it, but simply raised an eyebrow, trusting her to see the ridiculousness in her own words.

Mandar chattered something and she made a sound that was halfway between disgust and annoyance. Then, with an irritated look at him, she grabbed the doorknob. "I don't like strangers in my room," she repeated, locking eyes with him.  

Fili's eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. "I won't allow anyone else in," he said slowly. "Just you, and me."

She didn't respond, but it must have been the right thing to say because, with a grumble, she shoved the door open.

Fili was almost immediately hit with a wave of heat. It rolled out into the hallway, washed over him, and instantly raised a layer of sweat on his skin. He almost, almost changed his mind about entering, until he happened to look over at Miss Baggins. She was watching him with a knowing look, and he realized she expected him to back down.

Fili raised his chin, set his shoulders back and then casually sauntered past her into the room. As he crossed the threshold he felt the wooden floorboards give way to a thick, plush carpet under his boots.

The room itself was dim, lit mainly by the roaring fire in the fireplace, and then two small lanterns set on stands on either side of an enormous bed piled high with blankets and pillows. Other than that, the only other furniture in the room was a dresser, overstuffed chair near a bay window adorned with thick, velvet curtains and more pillows, and then a large vanity and a trunk at the foot of the bed.

Fili only vaguely noted all that as his mind was instantly assaulted by the sheer number of things crammed into the room. Every drawer of the dresser was overflowing with clothing, the vanity was so cluttered he couldn't see the surface and a closet was so stuffed with things he doubted the door could be closed. Most of what he could see appeared to be trinkets, boxes, lamps, figurines and a random assortment of items.

Even the floor was cluttered with necklaces, earrings, rings and other bits and pieces of jewelry glittering under the flickering light from the fire.

"Boots off," Miss Baggins ordered as she went past where he was frozen in the doorway, her feet already bare. "You'll damage my carpet."

Wordlessly, Fili knelt to pull his boots off, set them outside the door in the hall next to where she'd set hers and then, steeling himself, shut the door to the room. The heat felt like it increased immediately, and he bit back a sigh. He'd asked for this, he reminded himself.

As Miss Baggins went past her bed, Mandar crouched low on her arm, wiggled in preparation and then leapt off onto the mattress. He sank into the mound of blankets until Fili could barely see his head poking up. He half bounced, half swam to the top of the bed where he promptly burrowed under the blankets and vanished from sight.

Miss Baggins went to the dresser and started rooting through it, pulling out clothing and tossing pieces to the ground when they weren't what she wanted. Fili continued to look at her room, his eyes struggling to process everything that was in it. Scattered amongst the clothing, knickknacks and jewelry he was surprised to see several weapons. He spotted a dagger that looked interesting and retrieved it to take a closer look.

At the dresser, Miss Baggins froze. She looked over her shoulder at him, an odd light in her eyes, before she gave herself a shake and turned back to what she had been doing.

Fili, still in a crouch from picking up the dagger, watched her a moment or two and then turned his attention to the weapon. It had real weight to it, with a hilt of twisted gold, silver and bronze. It was one of the simpler pieces, lacking the jewels adorning many of the others he could see.

It was also very well cared for. Everything in the room was, as a matter of fact. All the weapons appeared sharp with gleaming hilts and polished stones. None of the clothing appeared to have as much as a stain or tear in it, and he couldn't see a single figurine or furniture item that had as much as a scratch.  

Miss Baggins finally found what she was looking for, dragged it out and threw it over the end of her bed. She then, without hesitation, unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off her shoulders to land on the ground behind her. She pulled her trousers off and headed to the bed in her smallclothes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Fili was even there.  

She grabbed the item she'd thrown on the bed, picked it up and shook it out in preparation to put it on. A shift, Fili's distracted mind informed him as she pulled it over her head. A thin, ivory colored, sleeveless shift that fell to just above her knees and hugged her body in a way that only increased his distraction.

She reached behind her head and, a moment later, thick waves of amber hair were falling across her shoulders and down her back to stop just below her waist. Suddenly the dour, sarcastic, dragon toting owner of Bag End was gone leaving a very attractive young woman behind.

Or at least until she raised her eyes to glare at him but, even then, the image was only muted rather than dispelled.  

"How old are you?" Fili blurted without thinking. He'd thought her older earlier but, now, he felt she was probably younger than him by a few years.

"Old enough." Her scowl deepened. "Are you planning to stand there all night?"

With a start, Fili realized that, aside from retrieving the dagger, he'd pretty much just been standing by the door holding his pack since he'd come in. He set the dagger back on the ground and slowly lowered the pack to sit next to it.  

He shrugged his jacket off and began to remove the various weapons he'd been wearing. He was mildly concerned she'd be offended at him being armed in her house, but she simply drifted over, dropped into a crouch near him and began to inspect the weapons as he removed them and piled them up.  

Fili pulled out the last weapon, a short knife he wore at the small of his back and put it down. Then he grabbed the hem of his tunic and, in one easy movement, pulled it over his head and dropped it over his pack. The room was hot after all and the more relief he could get the better.

Miss Baggins finished studying his last weapon and pushed to her feet. Her eyes slid over him, and then she simply turned away and headed toward her vanity.

Well, that stung, Fili thought. He was aware that members of his own race found him attractive, but it hadn't occurred to him to wonder if Shirelings, or Miss Baggins in particular, would. Of course, if she didn't then it raised an interesting question.

"Why did you marry me?"

Miss Baggins ignored him. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror and picked up a large, ornate looking brush from somewhere on the table. She stared at it for a few seconds, and then suddenly spun to face him. "Do you sleep with those braids in?"

"What?" Fili asked in confusion.

She gave an annoyed huff, put the brush down and came to stand in front of him. She reached up, hesitated, and then lightly ran her fingers down one of the braids that he wore on either side of his face. "Your braids. Do you sleep with them in?"

Her voice was soft and that, combined with the hesitation when she'd first reached out, were the first cracks he'd seen in her armor. Taking the opportunity, Fili put his hand lightly over hers where it was still touching the braid. "Usually. Not the ones in my mustache, or at least not today."

Her eyes flickered to his, and he was startled at the sheer guilelessness in them. She wasn't trying to seduce him, probably didn't even realize her actions could be seen in such a way. It was such a sharp contrast to the in control, fearless persona she'd presented earlier and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

"Why not?" she asked.

"They're a pain in the ass," Fili explained. "I keep them oiled. It lessens how often I have to redo them, and how irritating it is."

From under the covers on the bed, he heard Mandar start chattering quietly, repeating the same sort of sound over and over again. Miss Baggins let out an aggrieved sigh and rolled her eyes.

Guessing at the problem, Fili chuckled and said, "I'll sneak you fish for the rest of your life if you promise to never repeat that word, Mandar."

An excited squawk came from the covers before the small dragon settled down again.

"He'll hold you to that," Miss Baggins said. She sounded distracted, eyes looking off into the distance without seeming to see anything.

Wanting to pull her back to the moment, Fili lightly pulled her hand off the braid and encouraged her to run her fingers over the ones in his mustache. "See?" he said softly. "Oiled."

Her eyes came back to him and narrowed. Her fingers ran gently down the slender braid, before her other hand went back to the ones in his hair, considering the difference in feel and texture. "Can I take them out? The bigger ones?"

Fili raised an eyebrow. "I suppose." A thought occurred to him. "If you'll allow me to braid your hair in return."

She paused. "Why?"

Fili shrugged. "I could ask you the same question."

She whispered something under her breath and then nodded. "All right."

Fili put his arms at his side. "Go ahead then."

Her eyes slid off him and back to his hair. She bounced a little on her heels and reached for the nearest braid. Fili held still as she figured out how to remove the bead. She finally got it off and held it up between two fingers, studying the intricate details. "Do these mean anything?"

Impressed she'd thought to ask, Fili retrieved the bead and showed her the individual carvings. "This shows I'm from the line of Durin. This one shows I'm the oldest son in my family and, this one, shows that I'm my uncle's heir."

"Did you do them?" As she spoke, she undid the braid, gently enough to not pull on the strands, and went to work on the next one.

"I did," Fili said, not bothering to disguise the pride in his voice. He'd done them for his Coming of Age ceremony where his uncle, as the head of the family and the leader of Ered Luin, had symbolically presented them to him and braided them into his hair for the first time.

"They're pretty," she whispered, eyes intent. She handed him the second bead, and then the third and fourth. After, she reached behind him and undid his hair clasp. It was simpler than the beads, carved with a rune that recognized him as Erebor's heir.

His hair fell down on either side of his face and Miss Baggins' eyes fixated on it. She handed him the hair clasp and then ran both her hands through his hair, watching as it ran through her fingers before repeating the process.

Fili's eyes narrowed as a suspicion started to grow in his mind. "Did you marry me because of my hair?"

"I've never seen this color before," she murmured. Her eyes flickered to his. "Are you the only one?"

He wasn't, but Fili had no intention of telling her that. Thanks to a lucky strike from an orc, his father walked with a severe limp that had kept him from joining the quest. If she was this obsessed with him over his hair, he didn't want to imagine how she'd have reacted to seeing him and his father.

"It's like liquid gold," Miss Baggins' said softly. She'd put one hand on his shoulder without seeming to notice and was still running the other through his hair. She was gentle with it, Fili noted, not tugging or pulling on any knots she encountered.

Deciding to push his luck, Fili lightly picked up one of the thick strands of amber hair lying across her shoulder. She started in surprise and looked to where he was lightly wrapping her hair around a finger. This close, and in the flickering light from the fire, Fili could her she had lighter and darker streaks running through it, some gold in color, others ranging from russet orange to deep reds.

"Yours is beautiful too," he said softly. He allowed the hair to run over his hand, back to rest on her shoulder. "Like a river of molten fire."

"Is it?" She picked up the strand he'd touched, frowning at it before letting it fall from her fingers.

"You don't think so?" Fili asked.

She shrugged. "It's just hair."

Fili chuckled. "So is mine."

Her eyes narrowed. "No, it's not." She paced away from him suddenly, before spinning back around to face him. "Why are you here?"

"Excuse me?" Fili asked. "You know why."

"No, I--" she ran a hand through her hair, pushing the thick mass away from her face only to have it fall back into place immediately. "I gave you the room with your brother."

"We're married," Fili said patiently. "Married couples share a room." At least in his culture but she hadn't contradicted him when he'd said it to her earlier.

She shook her head. "You don't know me. Why are you doing this?"

"Because we're married," Fili repeated patiently. He went to her and stood just a little closer than was completely necessary. She barely came up to the bottom of his chin. "You realize that, don't you?"

"Of course," she grumbled. She'd crossed her arms and had her head down, focused on the carpet.

"Do you?" Fili asked gently. He was beginning to get an idea of her, not a clear one, but it was a start. Like having pieces from one of the wooden puzzles children played with and trying to put it together without knowing the picture it was supposed to create. He put the tips of his fingers on the side of her face and gently ran them back into her hair, nudging her head up to look at him as he did. "You're a bit impulsive, aren't you?" She growled under her breath and he knew he'd hit the mark. Something inside him settled and he could feel his wavering confidence beginning to restore itself. "You've heard that before, haven't you?"

She spun away from him. "I'm going to bed."

"You promised I could braid your hair," Fili reminded her.

She froze mid-step. For a second, Fili thought she'd reject him, but then she stomped over to the small bench in front of the vanity and sat down on it.

Fili moved behind her and leaned past her to retrieve the brush she'd been holding earlier. He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder for balance and, as he did, he noticed it was just a bit thinner than he'd have expected. A closer look at her in the mirror revealed just a hint of gauntness in her face, the slightest hollowness in her cheeks and tightness around her jaws and chin.

He started to say something, only to see her eyes meet his in the mirror. For an instant, he saw the barest hint of uncertainty in her eyes before it vanished once again, hidden under a mask of bland neutrality.  

Settling back on his feet, Fili carefully began to run the brush through her hair, gently working out knots and tangles in each section before moving onto the next.

"You only married me for Erebor," she said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"I did," Fili agreed, as he continued to draw the brush through her hair. In the mirror he could see her shoulders beginning to relax. "But it's not the only reason I said yes."

"Then why did you?" she asked in confusion.

"The way you treated Mandar." He slowed the rate of his brushing, and saw her eyes slowly grow heavy lidded.

"Why did that matter?" Her voice sounded tired and she started to lean back, only to catch herself and sit upright with a frown.

"It showed you were kind," Fili said, keeping his tone soft. "Which meant there was a chance to make our union a true marriage."

"A true marriage?" she asked blankly.

"Two people supporting one another." he explained. "Who can always trust one another, rely on one another. My parents are like that. Their lives are entirely intertwined to the point I sometimes wonder where one ends and the other begins."

"That makes no sense," she cut in, voice more awake. "And you shouldn't trust anyone that much. They'll only use it against you."

"Not everyone will," Fili said. "You just need to trust the right people."

She snorted in derision and fell silent. Fili set the brush down and sectioned her hair into three plaits to begin braiding. He'd have liked to have done something more complicated, but he had the feeling he'd pushed her far enough for the time being.

Instead he pulled the sections back and began braiding them, making sure to keep the strands separate and loose enough to not pull on her scalp. He reached the end and started to look for a tie, only to find her holding one up, pinched between two fingers. He took it and quickly tied off the end of the braid before letting it drop lightly against her back.

He then rested his hands on her shoulders and began to lightly massage them, slowly working to the juncture of her neck and back out again.

She tensed at first, but then began to relax again, her eyes sliding almost completely closed. "I don't understand you," she said after a few minutes. "I thought you'd be happy to be left alone."

"I want what my parents have," Fili explained, meeting her barely open eyes in the mirror. "I married you to save Erebor, but also because I had the hope we might some day be able to have that."

"All because I was nice to Mandar?" she asked. "That seems like a leap."

"Maybe to some," Fili agreed. He didn't point out that she'd already proven his initial assessment of her. She'd had several chances to reject him but hadn't. She'd kept her word about letting him braid her hair and allowed him the freedom to move about her room and examine what he wished.

She might project a hardened persona, and probably had reason for it, but underneath was a kind, fair, honorable young woman. It was more than enough to build a foundation on. He couldn't promise they'd end up like his parents, or anywhere close, but he was confident he could build a relationship with her, of friendship at least if nothing more.

Under his hands, she tensed suddenly, and her eyes snapped open. She sat up and Fili didn't resist as she pulled away from him and stood.

She scowled. "I don't need a companion like that," she said tersely. "And I don't need a husband."

"Then you shouldn't have married me," Fili replied calmly.

Her eyes darkened. Then she shook her head and went to, thankfully, bank the fire. After that she turned one of the lanterns down before pulling the blankets back and climbing into the bed. She curled up on her side and the lump that was Mandar quickly scurried over to curl against her stomach.

Fili went to the other side of the bed and lowered the light in the second lantern before pulling the covers back and climbing into the far side of the bed. She made no comment and, again, he felt his spirit settle and his confidence increase.

He stretched out on his back, put an arm under his head and draped the other across his stomach. "Do you mind if I call you Bilba?" he asked in a low voice.

There was silence for a second and then, "what have you been calling me?"

"Miss Baggins," he answered. "In my head at least."

Silence again, and then, "Bilba is fine."

"All right then, Bilba," Fili said. "Last question. Do you find me attractive? Besides my hair."

This time she was quiet for so long he almost thought she'd fallen asleep. Then, in a voice so quiet he almost didn't catch it, she said, "Yes, but it doesn't mean anything. I still don't want a husband."

Fili chuckled. "I suppose I should be grateful you didn't just throw me in the closet with the rest of your baubles."

"The closet is full," she scoffed. "I'd have probably put you in the corner and used you as a hat rack."

"That would have covered my hair," Fili said reasonably.

"True." Her voice sounded heavy and only half awake. "Maybe a coat rack then."

"Does it even get cold enough here to need a coat?" he asked.

There was no answer from her, and, upon listening, he could hear the steady, slow sound of her breathing in sleep.

He chuckled, settled into the mattress and closed his eyes.

It was a start, he decided. She wasn't thrilled that her latest acquisition had a mind of his own, but she wasn't outright rejecting him either.

He could work with that.

  Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839575/chapters/52120591

#Fanfic #Fanfiction #Writing #My Writing #Dragons #Female Bilbo #Fili #Romance #Arranged Marriage #Quest #AU #Thorin #LOTR #Hobbit #Tolkien #Middle Earth

[c-c-cherry]

Restless Nights

Basically just a vent fic. Happy Holidays you rascals. 

**A BEFORE-FIC MESSAGE**- This is part of a lil AU that I’m working on where the fellowship end up all coming back to Gondor once they finish their travels and settle what they need to settle. Set after the defeat of Sauron but before the Grey Havens. 

DESCRIPTION: Legolas is angsty and needs some comfort. Angst, H/C, fluff 

Word count: 2372

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“G-ah!”

A startled gasp followed by a momentary loss of breath jerked the elf awake in breathlessness. He clutched the sides of his sheets ferociously. His breath came out in short bursts as he watched as Gimli slept soundly beside him, snoring every couple of breaths. An onslaught of frustrated tears blurred his vision as he felt his body, drenched with sweat.

He could barely remember what the dream --nightmare-- was about. Only falling, disappointment, and the oncoming feeling of dread that gave him a sour taste in his mouth when he finally woke up.

“Legolas?”

A soft, groggy voice from somewhere in the darkness around him caused a startled sob to escape his throat, his breath shuddering as he looked around to find the voice somewhere in the jet black room, sheeted with darkness. It sounded like one of the hobbits... Frodo?

“Are you alright?” the faint glow of the moonlight through the window showed the culprit to be, unsurprisingly, Frodo, his large eyes glistening with worry.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, managing to say without his voice breaking. He wobbled up, barely trusting his legs, stepping past all of his friends sleeping soundly beside him in various spots on the wooden floor.

Ignoring Frodo’s question and walking past him quickly, Legolas softly opened the door to the nice wooden cottage and swiftly shut it behind him and staggering across the balcony to the edge of the roof. Using his left foot first, he quickly climbed up on the roof and sat on the flattest surface of the roof, basking in the moonlight and the stars glittering above him.

Elvish instincts never go away- no matter how long you’ve been away from--

A shred of guilt sliced through him like a sword. A near 2 years had passed since the destruction of the ring, and he had yet to return to Mirkwood to address his father--and his people--about the decisions he’d made. He sighed. Although he already knew exactly what Thranduil would say, he couldn’t help but feel a slight lingering feeling to tell his kin what had become of him.

He could already feel his heartbreak at the thought of having to choose between his people and his new life. Maybe he didn’t have to if he just didn’t return to Mirkwood. Even if he did, what would he even say?

“It’s been a long time, Ada. Sorry I disappeared for years without a word! Also, I’m living in upper Minas Tirith among mortal men and I’m also engaged to a dwarf! How have you been?”

He could already see the looks of horrors on his fellow elves’ faces. He could just hear the endless questions about why there was such a large, binding braid in his hair and what it represented.

Maybe that’s what his dream was about. He couldn’t remember anything about it anyway, which may or may not be a good thing.

Normally he would be fine with just Gimli by his side at night. It had been fine for the past year and a half...But lately, his nightmares became worse and worse as the shock of the war slowly left him these past few years. He didn’t even want to think about what Gimli would think if he woke him up because of some silly dream. It wasn’t fair to him. He deserved to sleep soundly.

Thank the Valar that Gimli was an extremely heavy sleeper.

Feeling tears of frustration build up in his eyes, he closed them softly and let the crisp, night breeze hit his face. He was surrounded by people that loved him, but he just felt alone. Just him and his worries. He and his problems. Him and his--

“There you are.”

The gentle voice nearly made the elf jump, but (barely) kept his composure to look behind him. Legolas frowned, peering around the roof. How in middle-earth did he…?

“Frodo...how did you get up here?” Legolas asked, surprised. Frodo shrugged, the carefree hobbit smiling softly.

“Never underestimate what a hobbit is capable of. Sam and I did survive Mordor, after all.”

Legolas sighed, shaking his head and resuming his position on the roof, knees tucked into his chest. Maybe a sleepover wasn’t the best place for someone with a terrible time sleeping, but it was hard not to since everyone had agreed to be in the same place for once.

They had planned these little “hangouts” once they had all agreed to spend a little more time in Gondor, and Legolas didn’t want to be the one person that flaked out. If he flaked, Gimli would most certainly flake too, no matter how much he loved spending time with everyone.

Frodo and Sam had packed up their stuff from their cute little Gondorian cottage in the rural area of Minas Tirith. “The ring-bearers deserve only the best” the people of Gondor had said once it was decided that Frodo and Sam were to stay in Gondor before making the long journey to the Shire.

Merry and Pippin would stumble in with all of Middle-earth’s booze (which Gimli very much enjoyed), Aragorn would travel down from the castle and leave Faramir in charge whilst he took a small break once in a while, while they all crammed into a nice, secluded, wooden house in the Upper-town and had a nice night once in a while.

Gandalf was… where in Middle-earth was Gandalf? No one knew. He had left on some “trip” after Aragorn and Arwen were wed and Aragorn was crowned king, and hadn’t returned to Gondor since then. People say he’d turned up on the outskirts of Rohan, but the wizard was quite a mystery.

He didn’t seem like a sleepover kind of guy, anyway.

Legolas was initially worried about the others; while Gimli was a heavy sleeper, he was worried about waking the others up. Thankfully, it seemed like everyone else was prone to sleep pretty soundly at night, and he had yet to wake anyone up. Legolas would think that everyone would be sleeping in safety and comfort after the hardships they had been through…but Frodo was never the same after that ring.

Curse those easily-awakened, ever-vigilant eyes.

“So you haven’t told him yet, I’m guessing?” the hobbit asked nonchalantly. Legolas felt his whole body freeze up.

“What?”

“Gimli. You haven’t told him about the nightmares, yet. Or anyone else. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be outside alone, would you?”

Legolas swallowed instinctively. How in Middle-earth did Frodo know about it? Oh well, that was a question for another late night, he supposed.

“No, I haven’t.”

Frodo narrowed his large, glimmering eyes and inched a bit closer to him. The roof creaked a bit under the weight, and Legolas wondered for a moment if it would wake anyone else up, but reconsidered, as they all seemed to be snoring quite peacefully.

“Why?” the waning question split his heart in two, and he suddenly felt guilt gnaw away at him. He had been keeping things from the people he trusted most, wasn’t he? Did that make him a liar?

“It didn’t seem that important,” he mumbled half-heartedly, knowing what a stupid reply it was. Frodo unsurprisingly was not convinced.

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.” Frodo replied, and Legolas swore he recognized that saying. Feeling the guilty feeling worsen, he sighed loudly and stared intently at his feet.

“I was...I was scared...alright?”

Frodo raised an eyebrow, not following. Legolas felt the heat rise to his cheeks as the silence between them became deafening.

“Scared of what?”

Months of insecurities finally boiled over, and Legolas found himself spewing word vomit in place of proper sentences.

“That-that maybe Gimli wouldn’t love me anymore! That maybe he doesn’t deserve to be with someone who’s as messed up as me! Maybe I’m terrified that I’ll have to return to Mirkwood once everyone gets tired of me! Maybe I’m afraid of the fact that Gimli might just leave me, and maybe I’m scared--scared of everyone finding out just how horrible I am!” the elf replied, snapping at the hobbit. Legolas barely noticed he was breathing rather heavily.

“Sat-satisfied, hobbit?” he spoke in a shuddering breath.

Frodo was silent for a moment before wrapping his arms around his shaking friend. Legolas didn’t even notice how hard he was shaking until Frodo grounded him with a hug, letting him bury his face into his chest and try to regain his composure again. Tears threatened to fall, but he ceased them to. He had to keep some of his composure.

“Funny, knowing how long you’ve known Aragorn, I would guess that he would be the first one you would tell about all this stuff,” Frodo said in curiosity. Legolas pulled away from him for a moment in response.

He sighed, letting the breeze blow through his hair. “Aragorn seems...different. He’s more occupied with the kingdom, Arwen, the children he’s no doubt going to have very soon...he has more responsibilities now than to just put up with me.”

“Now whoever said that?”

A familiar voice had them both jump to attention as Aragorn stood on the balcony below them, looking out at the scenery of his kingdom.

“Evening Frodo, Legolas. What a beautiful night it is.” he turned and smiled up at the couple sitting on the roof, “Another nightmare?”

Legolas practically fell off the roof. How the hell did Aragorn know? He glared at Frodo, who meekly shrugged. Aragorn walked towards the ivy wall where they got up to the roof and smiled.

“Frodo hasn’t told me anything if you want to know. He’s not the only one with good observational skills.” Aragorn chuckled, climbing up the wall in a couple of swift movements, “You’re practically an open book, Mellon nin.”

Legolas felt himself blush, wondering just how much Aragorn had heard.

“How long have you been out here?” he stuttered, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Long enough to hear just about everything.” the king replied, crawling across the roof and sitting on the other side of the elf. Legolas felt dread fill him. Of course, he had heard everything.

“Mellon nin, this does not concern me, and I’ve been holding off on talking with you just in case things would resolve themselves. But clearly, they haven’t. Something is not boding well with you.”

Legolas stayed silent.

“I would never forget about you, mellon.” His soft, understanding voice of his old friend caused him to lose his breath. It was ironic, he remembered being Estel’s comforting hand when he was a young child, still new to the world. Now he was a king. A king.

Why did that phrase sound so familiar?

Then it hit him.

A king. He was supposed to take over Thranduil’s position as king of Mirkwood. He wasn’t a dubbed a prince for nothing. But it had been so long since he had returned to Mirkwood...was the arrangement still into play? Would Mirkwood still accept him as a king? Was he even ready? And the wedding, the engagement, would that even be possible anymore? Could he even marry a non-elf if he was to be king?

He knew the answer to everything, but he couldn’t bear to think about it any longer. A breath caught in his throat. 

Aragorn noticed the elf’s distress and called for Frodo to give the two of them a few minutes. The hobbit nodded understandingly.

“Of course.”

The elf and king sat on the edge of the roof as Frodo crept back inside the sleeping cottage, leaving the two of them alone. Silence followed deafeningly. Legolas felt his heart pound rapidly, awaiting what his friend was going to say.

“You need to talk to Gimli.” he finally said. It was too gentle.

“I know.” he choked back, barely trusting his voice.

“And I need you to talk to me.”

“I-I know...”

A desperate whimper escaped him as Aragorn enveloped him into a hug, and Legolas felt warmth fill him. Such a coldness had filled him since the absence of fighting in his life, and he hadn’t felt so safe in so long.

“I know that things are hard right now, Legolas. Believe me, I do.” Aragorn said softly, grasping his friend and letting him bury his face into his cloak, “We can help. I can help. You just have to talk to us.”

“I don’t want to go back..” was all the elf could whimper, his shaking arms crossed over his chest, his frame shaking like a hunted, wounded animal.

“You don’t have to go anywhere. You can stay right here, Legolas. I promise you.” the king said reassuringly, but his cries only got louder. He had a feeling that he might have been talking about Mirkwood. Only his homeland provoked so much emotion out of him. Not necessarily good emotion.

Eventually, the elf calmed down and cleared his throat, sitting up and out of Aragorn’s arms with a pained look on his face.

“I’m sorry.” he sniffled, flicking away the last of his tears.

“I cannot accept your apology, for you have nothing to apologize for, mellon nin.”

Legolas laughed dryly and smiled teary-eyed at his hands.

“Mr. Strider?”

Both looked down at the balcony to see Frodo had stepped outside holding a mug of something warm. Aragorn inquired the hobbit, who smiled warmly.

“I hope I’m not intruding on anything, but I seemed to have woken someone up on the way in,” Frodo said sheepishly. Aragorn nodded understandingly and hopped down from the roof.

“It’s about time we get off this roof then, isn’t it?” he gestured to Legolas, who grabbed his hand weakly and climbed down onto the balcony. The elf felt exhaustion take over his body, and he turned to the door to the cottage, freezing in his tracks.

“Gimli.”

The dwarf stared concerned at his fiance, and Legolas saw nothing but love in his eyes. Legolas felt the tracks that were still wet on his face, and he suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Legolas was about to open his mouth, but Gimli just shook his head and pulled him into a warm hug. The thoughts that plagued him vanished just for that moment.

And Legolas felt nothing but love.

#lord of the rings #angst #hurt/comfort #crying #nightmares #fellowship #frodo x sam #legolas x gimli #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #legolas greenleaf #gimli son of gloin #gandalf #aragorn #merry brandybuck #pippin took #c-c-cherry's fic

[bluebellhairpin]

The Girl Who Knew The End {2}

Lullaby Of Woe

Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Chapter One // An Uninvited Guest

Chapter Two // (You’re Here!)

Chapter Three // “I Was With Child” 

A/N: Some people wished to be tagged if I continued this story, so here we are I guess. - Nemo

Song: ‘Lullaby of Woe’ by Marcin Przybyłowicz 

Summary: After a few days journey, the Company stopped at the place you recognise as the place where Balin tells the story of how Thorin gained the name ‘Oakenshield’. This eventually leads you you telling a story of your own, one that gets Thorin really thinking about how he ought to be treating you. 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist  

{Edited 24-02-2020}

You had been traveling with Thorin and the Company for a while now, both yours and Thorin’s temper flaring a good handful of times already, the Company were starting to quietly bet on how long it'd take for your bickering to turn into banter, then to turn into full-blown make-out sessions. The tension sure was building towards and end like that.

You had stopped for the night, resting under a rocky crevice, Thorin was set to start on first watch with Fili and Kili before you took over with Dwalin and Ori. You decided to stay up with them, the story Balin would tell would be one you decided you'd rather not miss. 

As Balin started the story of how Thorin gained the name Oakenshield, the dwarf in subject wandered off to face the cliff. You watched, as everyone did, and found yourself standing with the rest of the company out of respect for your leader and king. You knew orcs, they'd caused you pain, physical and emotional; they'd left scars - physical and emotional - on you too that wouldn't go away. 

You’d always respect Thorin for what he went though - even if he was a jerk. 

As Thorin joined the group back from the cliff face he previously stood on, you got another ‘revelation’.

Your head hurt when major events of the films occurred. You walked over to the cliff where Thorin once was, looking over around the place the small groups of orcs were. You had to swallow the bile rising is your throats at the sight of the flashing eyes of their wolfish steeds; the same ones that cause you all that pain. 

You looked back at Gandalf, of which had sensed your revelation and was keeping a keen eye on you since. Your face had gotten paler, Gandalf was worried, but he’d come to understand that the revelations you got couldn't be shared.

No matter what happened, you could never share what was to come. 

“My (y/n), you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bofur said from a way across the camp. Unlike Gandalf, the Company didn’t yet fully understand the lengths of your revelations, so you had to make up reasons as to why you suddenly looked so shocked, ecstatic, or somber. 

“Oh i-it’s nothing Bofur. I just remember something from my world.”

“Must’ve been something’ pretty scary. A tale of sorts?” Bofur proded, some of the other Company soon turned to face you.

“Oh no, it was just a… Um, a lullaby.” you said, racking through the leftover knowledge in your mind for an excuse that would be believable. Of all things, you had to say a lullaby. 

“Lullabies aren’t generally scary.” he said, taking a puff of his pipe smugly, thinking he caught you. 

“This one is. It’s meant to get children to stay inside at night.” You said, turning your head away slightly to curse yourself at weaving a web that you might not get out of.

“Huh, what’s it called?”

“The Lullaby of Woe.” you said slowly, remembering a more scary lullaby from a game you played once. 

“Sounds morbid. And fake.” Thorin said, now having taken his place near Fili and Kili again. You narrowed your eyes at him. You’d give him fake. 

“I would sing it for you, but you’d hardly be grateful if I did.” The Company went into light uproar, not having anything but Balin and Gandalf’s stories, and Bofur’s songs  over the past couple nights, a lullaby from you - even a scary one - sounded like a nice change to them. 

“Oh please (y/n). I’ll even sit in front of Uncle if you want, then you won't even have to see him.” Fili offered with a smile. 

“Sounds nice Fili.” You laughed, the company now gathering in their sleeping packs to hunker down and listen to your lullaby.

“Wolves asleep amidst the trees, bats all a swaying in the breeze, but one soul lies anxious wide awake, fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths.” 

You started, carefully singing as your eyes traveled over the group, seeing some already stiffening at your sung words. 

“For your dolly Polly sleep has flown, don't dare let her tremble alone. For the witcher, heartless, cold, paid in coin of gold. He comes he'll go leave naught behind but heartache and woe. Deep, deep woe.” 

Thorin watched you as you sang, your lips moving with purpose, you paused in your singing with such wispy grace, he wondered if the lullaby might be a summoning song instead. What if you were actually here to kill them? To lure them all in with your sweet song? Thorin shook his head. 

Gandalf knew many people, but none were like that, not even you.

“Birds are silent for the night, cows turned in as daylight dies. But one soul lies anxious wide awake, fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths. My dear dolly Polly shut your eyes, lie still, lie silent, utter no cries. As the witcher, brave and bold, paid in coin of gold.” 

You slowly stood, walking around the camp as you sang, making your voice echo off the rocks, the sound richoching down the cliff and across the valley into the ears of the still waiting Orcs. They were chilled at your song. 

As far as they knew you were speaking of your own story, the witcher was you, and as far as your sung words said you weren’t afraid of anything horrible, even them. 

“Send one more word to Master, the Dwarf scum travel with a powerful being. Let him know this now so he can prove to that pathetic King that he can kill such ones with ease.”

“He'll chop and slice you, cut and dice you. Eat you up whole, eat you whole.” 

You sung the last word with force, letting your words rattle poor Dwalin’s unsuspecting ears. The dwarf shot up from his sleeping position to then face your laughing face with a scowl. 

“Lass, I’d never do that again if I were you.” he warned, only making you laugh more, Fili and Kili almost in stitches at the look on Dwalin’s face when you scared him moments before. Even Thorin, having been watching you still from when you started singing, cracked a smile. 

“Trust me Dwalin, there are much worse things than a Lullaby to be scared of right now.” You said, a breathless laugh escaping you as you patted his shoulder and moved back to your own sleeping space. 

“You could say that again (y/n).” Gandalf said quietly, nestling himself back into a sleeping position before tipping his hat over his eyes. “You can say that again.” 

Thorin looked over to watch you as you also settled down, he kept looking between you and the fire to try and make it look like he wasn’t staring. After that song, that lullaby, it was almost as if he saw you in a new light, like one switch of many was suddenly turned on inside his mind which enabled him to really see you. Sure, he’d seen you before, but only superficially, not like this. 

It suddenly occurred to him that you had a life back where you came from, a family, friends, maybe even a lover or children. You’d been through hell to get to Bilbo’s that night, only for him to treat you like you were nothing. Now he felt pretty bad about it, regretted it even, and felt the strange need to make it up to you. 

He didn’t really know how. He didn’t know what you liked. Mahal - he wasn’t going to apologise - he figured you wouldn’t appreciate that a whole lot. He thought about getting you something Dwarrowdam’s liked - but you weren’t a dwarf, so the chances of you liking what he’d find you were slim. He then seemed to be hit with an epiphany; you wanted to go home, the place you’d be sent back to once your purpose (whatever it was) was fulfilled. 

He’d help you fill your lot in your sudden change of life, he’d help get you home to where you wanted to be most, with the people you wanted to be with them most.

Surely you’d forgive him after that, even without an apology.

Series Taglist: @thorins-queen-of-erebor  @pigeonsbones @captainrainbowpanda

#Thorin Oakenshield #thorin x reader #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin oakensheild x reader #the hobbit x reader #the company x reader

[statusquoergo]

Part I

Louis meets Harold at the elevators of SLWW and informs him that they’re going to tank the deal “because Harvey doesn’t want it anymore.”

Harold, who’s apparently been building up his backbone since his departure from Pearson Hardman (s02e12), asks Louis if he’s Harvey’s “partner or his lackey,” and Louis shuts him down by completely butchering Harvey’s “146 other things” quote from “Errors and Omissions” (s01e02). (To wit: “So you sign this cancellation, you get it back to us by tomorrow, or I will take that gun from your bluff, or I will call your hand, or I will take 146 other guns, and I will fire them at your face.”) The whole thing is actually pretty sad; Rick is giving it his all, but for my money, this comedic B-plot isn’t quite as comedic as they’d like it to be. Anyway then Donna shows Alex a folder with a picture in it and says she needs a perfect forgery of the piece in 24 hours, which he agrees to acquire for her in exchange for two, count ‘em two favors. Depending on what the piece is that she needs forged, I have to wonder if that’s even physically possible, but, well. Suits logic.

Harold then proceeds to blow the lid off of Louis’s scheme by calling Harvey on his private cell number, which he got from somewhere, and demanding that he return to his office so they can “settle this.” Harvey instructs Harold to tell him everything Louis said to him and then delightedly informs Samantha that Louis “is 100% running around town pretending to be [him],” which “might be one of the funniest things [he’s] ever heard.” Samantha replies that “Louis is jealous of [him], in love with [him], and intimidated by [him] all at the same time”; also, surprise, she was intimidated by him when they first met on account of the fact that he’s a legend, and I’m starting to think this entire episode is just a 44-minute long excuse for Korsh to stroke his own ego.

Now, Harvey might think Louis pretending to be him is hilarious, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to take advantage of the opportunity to “have some fun.” I.e., Samantha calls Louis posing as Harold’s secretary and tricks him into thinking Harold is on the way over, which absolutely terrifies him for reasons that aren’t completely clear to me because Harold already knows Louis is involved and is already under the impression that Harvey doesn’t want to see him, so why wouldn’t Louis just say that Harvey’s out of the office? He doesn’t even have to say where he is, just “not here.” Anyway, Harvey and Samantha laugh uproariously at Louis’s panic until Harvey takes over to inform him that he knows what’s going on and Louis should come clean about whatever he’s done. Samantha seems to feel a little bad, maybe, but Harvey argues that “if you can’t do something to cause Louis to have a stroke once in awhile, what’s the purpose of living?” I know Louis is supposed to be this episode’s comic foil, but that’s…mean. Are he and Harvey friends or aren’t they? I’m starting to worry about Louis, this relationship seems pretty one-sided. Also a little abusive.

Oh, then Harvey wants to take the scenic route to the next exit, Samantha would really rather not, and Harvey talks her into it with the promise that “it’ll be fun.” I wonder how hard this is going to blow up in their faces. Not at all, probably. Also Alex asks Katrina for help with Donna’s forgery thing because Katrina has “clients in fashion and friends in ballet,” so he figures she has connections in the art world, which she does, and she was only being cagey about it because she “just didn’t want to be pigeon-holed.” But she doesn’t know who Gandalf is, which Alex should have known because he knows she’s “not a sports fan.” Alrighty then.

For some reason now we get a flashback to Samantha and Adam getting pulled over mid-escape because of the broken tail light, I guess to parallel Samantha and Harvey in the present day having to pull over because they hit “some kind of hole.” (A pothole, perhaps? I don’t know what makes me think Harvey would know a word like that, being a member of an exclusive car club and also presumably having passed Driver’s Ed at some point in his life.) There is, unfortunately, no jack in the trunk, and Samantha is furious, but never fear; Harvey is texting Triple-A, and they’ll be on the scene in an hour.

Except that you can’t text Triple-A to request assistance. They have a Roadside Assistance app, and obviously you can call them, but their texting service only sends members alerts for roadside events already in progress. So why bother pretending this is a real thing? Well, it’s not hard to guess that the text isn’t going to go through, and I bet Harvey is going to conveniently happen not to notice, thereby stranding him and Samantha on this secluded road for several more hours of forced bonding time until he conveniently does notice, but on a more fundamental and much pettier level, it’s yet another sign that Korsh is a very, very lazy writer. This episode is full of examples of the same trope; isn’t it convenient that Harvey rented not only a Mustang from the club, but the very model Mustang that Samantha has tumultuous emotional history with? Isn’t it convenient that Ron and Eric Kaldor owned the very same Mustang, so Samantha could be doubly traumatized? Isn’t it convenient that Ted Tucker, a man who desperately wants to meet Harvey Specter but conveniently has no idea what he looks like, happens to be the one to call right when Louis is making himself at home in Harvey’s office? Isn’t it convenient that Harold Gunderson is Reed Communications’ in-house counsel? Isn’t it convenient that he managed to acquire Harvey’s private cell phone number from somewhere? This is just all kinds of annoying to me, both as a writer with a much, much smaller platform that Korsh’s, and as a person who does her fucking research, despite having a much, much smaller platform than Korsh does.

Moving on. Harold calls Louis out on imitating Harvey, but after Louis’s sob story about just wanting to “get out of [his] own life and enjoy [himself] for one day,” he agrees to go along with the charade for one more meeting so long as Louis owes him one. Then we get another flashback to Samantha and Kaldor being all…flirty, I guess, as Kaldor drops the bomb that he wants to leave his wife for her— Wait, wait, Kaldor is married? And he has kids? Geez, I guess Samantha and Harvey aren’t as alike as they keep insisting they are. Anyway Samantha says their relationship has always just been a fling for her and she decided right this second that the whole thing was a big mistake, so uh, better late than never on that one. Kaldor accuses her of having daddy issues, conveniently balancing out Harvey’s mommy issues, and she kicks him out of the house that I think he was the one who was renting? Which is the conclusion of that storyline, and I gotta say, I didn’t really get much out of it. Obviously the point was to emphasize Samantha’s forlorn search for a surrogate father figure, but there’s been ample opportunity for the past season and a half to paint that picture via her relationship with Robert and they haven’t really run with it, so shoehorning it in now on top of her abrupt decision to find her birth father feels, at best…really convenient.

Actually, hang on, that whole mess might have another purpose: Samantha confesses her affair to Harvey and says she has “a terrible history with men,” which Harvey instantly diagnoses as a product of her childhood and oh my god these people really need to stop playing Armchair Psychologist for each other.

Brace yourself, because they’re just getting started:

“Deep down, for years, I knew I wanted to be with Donna. Just couldn’t access it.” “Why not?” “Because of the shit that comes from having a fucked-up childhood.” “What happened to you?” “My mom cheated on my dad for most of my life. I knew it, and I kept it a secret from him.” “Jesus, that might be worse than having no parents at all.”

Alright, look. You cannot spend the better part of eight seasons of a show having two characters clearly express, out loud, with their words, that they do not want to be a couple—not only that, but that they tried being a couple and made the conscious and mutual determination that they’re better as friends—only to throw them together at the eleventh hour and try to convince your audience that they’re a perfect match not by dealing with all that established backstory, but by pretending it never happened in the first place. For one thing, Harvey’s fucked up childhood didn’t prevent him from pursuing relationships with women; he actively courted Zoe and Paula (the latter of which being a mistake for a wide variety of unrelated reasons) and he broke things off with Scottie as soon as she got into a serious relationship with someone else. In fact, prior to Donna, Harvey very strictly avoided ever imitating his mother’s adultery, and no matter how much he allegedly wanted to be with Donna, I’m not so sure “You’re the first woman I’ve committed an act of infidelity with” is exactly the sort of romantic, soulmate-level declaration he seems to think it is.

Also didn’t Harvey telling people about what happened in his childhood used to be a really big deal? Wasn’t it a deeply touching and profoundly emotional moment when he confessed it to Mike in “High Noon” (s02e10)? So is Samantha suddenly being elevated to Mike-level status in Harvey’s eyes, or is he just totally cool now with airing all his dirty laundry to whoever because he and his mom have decided to try and play nice? No, don’t tell me, I’m not sure which one I dislike more.

I will take a small amount of solace in the fact that I was right about Harvey conveniently noticing that his text to Triple-A didn’t go through right after his and Samantha’s several hours of convenient bonding time.

Minor interlude: That favor Harold solicited from Louis? He wants to come back to the firm. Sure why not, that’s only like the eleventh most insane thing to happen in this episode, so who cares.

Anyway, Harvey walks about fifty yards up the road to find a strong enough signal to call Triple-A, conveniently gets a call from Donna at the exact moment that his service returns, and…forgets to call Triple-A. Yeah, alright, whatever. Samantha vents some more and admits that she’s afraid to meet the man who gave her up, which Harvey counters with the claim that she owes it to herself to meet him on the grounds that Harvey made up with his mother (not that she ever apologized or took responsibility for her actions or anything) and they’re both better off for it. Sorry, Judy, I guess we’re back on that “biological family is the only one that matters” kick, but better luck next time.

Samantha knocks on her father’s door, informs him that she’s his daughter, and after a quick flashback illustrating Samantha and Judy’s first meeting wherein Judy tells Samantha she doesn’t work for Protective Services (actually, as a licensed foster parent, she kind of does) and asks her to take a chance and trust her, present day Samantha books it back to the car (that was quick) to inform Harvey that she was the result of a fling and her father had no idea she existed, but that “he wishes he would’ve known.” Also her mother died when she was two, so it turns out no one gave her up after all. So that’s sweet. And anticlimactic. Except that now she has all this anger and nowhere to put it, but luckily for her, Amateur Psychologist Harvey Specter is on hand to advise her to “just let it go,” because that’s gone super well for him so far and it’s not like it took thirty years or anything.

Louis fesses up to Tucker about his identity fraud but convinces him to sign with them anyway, discerning in the process that “it’s great being Harvey, but [he’d] rather be [him].” How very after-school-special. Then Harvey gets home and Donna finally gets to reveal this big art protect of hers, and I mean we all know what it is, right? Family ties, parent-child reconciliation, repeated references to Harvey’s relationship with his mother? It’s that piece of shit duck painting that served as the “one happy memory [Harvey] had of [his] mother” prior to their reconciliation and that Elliot Stemple stole in “Accounts Payable” (s06e02) because he figured Harvey would only keep something so ugly if he had an emotional attachment to it. Well, Harvey is so grateful that he tells Donna she’s perfect, and as I do my best to suppress my gag reflex, she informs him that she’s actually “better than perfect” because the forgery she commissioned is now hanging in Stemple’s office after she “Thomas Crown Affair-ed that shit” and made the swap. Overcome by emotion, Harvey calls his mother to apologize for taking so long to forgive her (for the thing she never apologized for or acknowledged as a wrongdoing on her part), they exchange tearful “I love you”s, and end the conversation by “just [sitting] together for awhile.” No, seriously, they’re sitting in their respective houses holding their phones to their ears and not saying anything. It’s deeply weird.

Next week, Harvey gets arrested! Maybe. Probably. They might be fucking with us, but here’s hoping.

#suits usa #s09e07 #season 9 #analysis

[ladylouoflothlorien]

The Twelve Days Of Dwarfmas - Part Six, In Which Bofur’s Hat Learns How To Fly.

Pairing: Dwalin x reader.

Warnings: A vicious tickle attack.

Length: 2319

Sometimes the question of who to prank next was difficult, and sometimes it was easy. On this occasion, it was very easy. The cheekiness of Bofur’s words when you’d taken him with you to buy slightly dodgy looking supplies for a future prank had labelled him as an obvious target. You knew any prank involving Bofur had to include his hat somehow, but just how exactly that would happen, you weren’t sure. 

It was when Gandalf made one of his strangely rare appearances with the company that you began to formulate a plan. The Grey wizard had shown you a particular object of his – Magic rope. The rope turned invisible once a knot was tied in it, so long as you held part of it in your hand. If the knot came loose or you let go of it, it would become visible again. Even better than that, it was so light you could hardly feel it even when you were holding the whole thing bundled up on your lap. Though the details hadn’t quite been worked out yet, you just knew that you needed this rope in order to prank Bofur. You asked Gandalf if you could borrow the rope for a while, to which he agreed, though jokingly told you not to use it for anything mischievous. You could only wink at the old wizard and scurry away holding your new prank tool.

It was like you had prank block. No matter how hard you thought you couldn’t force your brain to give birth to yet another brilliant idea. You’d been sitting hunched up beside the campfire for over an hour, staring into the flames and just willing yourself to come up with something. In this time, the slight crease between your eyebrows had become a deep crevasse. Soon enough there was a thick finger poking your forehead. 

“You’re gonna cut into your skin if that wrinkle gets any deeper-”  It was Kili. “You never look this grumpy when you’re with Dwalin-“ The young dwarf barely got to finish his sentence before he was thwacked over the head by your palm.

  “Shut up princeling, I’m thinking.” 

He sat down beside you and laughed it off, though you did spot his hand sneaking up to rub the back of his head from the corner of your eye. 

“Thinking? That spells trouble – what’re you planning?” You raised a finger and shook it in front of his face. “What’s the point in me telling you? It’ll spoil the fun.” The dwarf groaned and he fell backwards slowly to lie down. Still, he knew there was nothing he could do to convince you to tell him something if you’d already decided upon keeping it a secret. The truth was, there was hardly anything  you could tell him – you knew you were going to prank Bofur, but you still hadn’t figured out what the heck you were going to do.

Several days later and you still hadn’t come up with an idea and it was really starting to bother you. Honestly thinking about it so much was giving you a headache and you weren’t sure how much more of it you could take. 

Once again the company was encamped for the night around a fire. It wasn’t yet time to sleep, and so no one had been specifically set on watch yet. You’d already settled yourself next to Dwalin but with a loud sigh you flopped over his lap. “I hate my brain. It has failed me.” 

Dwalin puffed up a little but he wasn’t all that surprised by your actions – you’d been treating him like your own personal heated, hairy, muscular pillow for some time now. The rest of the dwarves around the campfire were somewhat more surprised, but none of them dared to say anything. Instead they all glanced around at each other, raising their eyebrows and exaggerating their expressions as best as they could to communicate without saying anything. “Warriors don’t give up.” Was all Dwalin said to you before setting his focus back on sharpening his axes.

Despite the fact that he probably wasn’t listening to you anymore and your voice was muffled in the many layers of clothing he was wearing, you replied. “You’re right Dwalin. And I am a warrior-“ You suddenly sat up. This caught his attention, as normally once you found yourself lying on him there was no budging you for hours. He turned his head a little to glance at you and his eyes widen. He felt a strange sense of terror on behalf of whoever was going to be pranked next… you just had that look in your eyes that told him inspiration had just struck.

It was early morning. You’d been given the last shift on watch, which essentially meant you just had to wake up early – there was no opportunity to go back to sleep after the shift was over since then everyone would be packing up and getting ready to head back out on their journey. 

You decided to take advantage of this blessed opportunity to put your prank into action. Bofur was sleeping between his brother – Bombur – and his cousin – Bifur. Luckily all three dwarves were pretty heavy sleepers… then again, it seemed like all the dwarves were heavy sleepers if their ability to sleep through the deafening snoring was anything to go by. Bofur was, as always, wearing his hat. Yes, even when he was sleeping that sucker never came off. You thought it was a little eccentric of him, but at least in this instance it was convenient for you as you didn’t have to search for his hat at all, it was just right there on his head.  

Even though he was a heavy sleeper, you still needed to be careful, and so you crept up towards him and carefully attached one end of the rope to his hat. As soon as the knot was tied, the rope turned invisible. You dropped it and it became visible again. Your hands found the very end of the rope and you wound it around your palm a few times, of course, as soon as you had it in your grasp it had once again turned invisible. 

You settled against a tree near the sleeping dwarf, keeping the rope slack so that he wouldn’t be able to feel it at all when he woke up. Sure, it would be a little difficult to pull this prank off. It was going to take far more effort than usual on your side, but it would be worth it, and honestly you didn’t see what else you could do to involve Bofur’s hat in a prank than what you now had planned.

Bofur woke up and as usual his very first action was to reach up and check that his hat was still in place. A little weird, you thought, since honestly what was the chance that his hat would disappear during the night? Surely, he couldn’t be checking to see if you’d simply snatched his hat? How unimaginative did he think you were with pranks?

Throughout the morning, you had to trail Bofur around at what you were terming your ‘optimum distance’. You had to be far enough away that he wouldn’t really notice you too much, but if you were too far away he’d be able to feel the tug of the rope. You needed to ensure you were close enough to keep the magical rope slack. Of course, you enlisted Dwalin’s help in all this. At one point you grew tired from keeping up with Bofur – who knew that he was one of the fastest walkers in the group? When this happened, you’d grumbled something at the gruff, tattooed dwarf and climbed onto his back. He didn’t even mutter a complaint… or rather, he didn’t complain about the fact that you were up there. What he did complain about was the fact that he could ‘barely feel you’ up there.

“Yer’ lighter ‘an one of me axes lass.. how little do ye eat?” And other similar sentences could be heard coming from him for at least a quarter of an hour. Once again, a few of the dwarfs were intently watching this exchange. Balin in particular stared at you long enough that you actually felt his gaze pricking the back of your neck. Even so, you chose to ignore it. 

You were waiting for the right moment. You didn’t want it to be obviously a prank at first, and so you waited for a large gust of wind. When you felt it, you surreptitiously tugged on the rope as the wind tore through the company and sure enough Bofur’s hat fell to the ground. The dwarf jumped, evidently startled by the sudden rush of cold to the top of his head. Of the dwarves who had witnessed this event, most of them laughed. It was a pretty rare occasion to see Bofur without his hat on, as he never really took it off willingly. 

This continued for several hours. Whenever there was a strong gust of wind, you would pull the rope and Bofur’s hat would fly off. Now, Bofur was not an idiot. After a while he began to suspect that someone was doing something. As if to confirm his thoughts, you began to tug on the rope whenever you felt like it, whether there was a strong wind or not. This only made Bofur more irate each time his hat flew off. What was worse was that he had no idea how it was happening. Obviously you were his first suspect, but you were some way behind him and were doing a great job of pretending to be asleep on Dwalin’s broad back. After that he suspected the two princes, but each time his hat flew off he whipped around only to see that they were too far away from him for it to have been them. 

This continued for some time with Bofur’s hat flying off his head at completely unexpected moments. Just when he was beginning to think that it might not happen again, off his hat would go. However, as previously mentioned, Bofur was no idiot. Short of some enchantment, he couldn’t see what else could be causing his hat to fly off other than a rope. But how? How could there be a rope attached to his hat when he himself could see his hat as plain as day and there was simply no rope to be found. 

The answer came when he absent-mindedly went to scratch at his hat, only to feel something there. Bofur paused in his actions, confused. You were unfortunately distracted in that moment sharing some silly joke with Fili, who was now walking beside Dwalin as he carried you. Bofur moved his hand to that same spot again to be sure he wasn’t imagining things. Sure enough, there was definitely something there, his eyes be damned. 

Bofur caught hold of what he felt and tugged it. From behind him, a startled – and suspiciously feminine – gasp could be hear. Bofur instantly whipped around and he saw your arm stretched out over Dwalin’s shoulder and out in front of him as if it had just been pulled into that position by some strange force. He’d caught you.

“Ohh shit-“ You rushed out, dropping the rope in your haste as you scrambled off of Dwalin’s back. Bofur was already barrelling towards you. Trying not to get anything snagged on grasper and keeper, you’d only just lowered yourself to the floor when you found yourself knocked off your feet by Bofur. Now that he’d caught the perpetrator he was able to see the humour in the situation, but despite this he was still out for revenge. You squawked loudly as your back hit the earth and you found yourself flattened into the dirt by the heavy dwarf who’d landed right on top of you. The other dwarves had stopped walking to watch as one of their own finally managed to get their own back after one of your pranks. 

Under Bofur’s weight there was no escape and you playfully yelled out as he raised his hands and wiggled his fingers before going in for the kill.

“Bofur no- no-“ You couldn’t help but laugh and squirm as he began to tickle you. Obviously, this wasn’t enough to earn his mercy and he continued until you were practically crying with laughter. “Oh flip Bofur you gotta stop-“ You managed to get out between the hysterical laughter. “I’m gonna pee.”

It was clear that Bofur still had no intention of stopping, and whilst most of the dwarves honestly found this sweet revenge hilarious, there was one dwarf who was getting steadily more and more irritated by the extended physical contact – Dwalin. Balin had noticed his brother getting more and more worked up and when it seemed that his brother was about to burst, Balin hastily whispered something to both Kili and Fili, who took a second to glance at Dwalin before barrelling into Bofur and in the process knocking him off you.

“Prince attack!” They yelled as Bofur gawked, suddenly finding himself the victim of a double-dwarf tickle attack. Almost as soon as Bofur was off you, you find yourself scooped up and thrown over Dwalin’s shoulder as he seemed to be constantly grumbling words that were just slightly too quiet for you to pick up on. The fireman hold that he had on you was pressing into your stomach and you groaned a little and reached out to Balin. 

“Save me Balin, pleeeeease-“ He merely shook his head. He’d already intervened and prevented Bofur’s head from being crushed by his brother, he saw no reason to try and anger his brother further.

“Lass, I can tell you that pig-headed dwarf has no intention of putting you down for a very long time.”

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AN:

I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s read this story so far. I know you’ve all had to wait an extremely long time for this sixth chapter to come out. I do honestly love this story idea that I have going and I do intend to finish it but up until a few days ago I’d been severely out of ideas for fleshing out my planned chapters and I didn’t want to publish anything I wasn’t proud of. So once again, thank you all for being so patient with me and waiting for this chapter to come out without so much as a single complaint. I do feel that now I’ve managed to do this chapter I should be getting back into the swing of updating this fic more regularly but I don’t want to give any promises in case I end up breaking them. Peace xx

#fili #kili #dwalin #balin #thehobbit #thecompany #dwalin x reader #dwalin imagine #pranked #thecompany x reader

[aelixandra]

Dreaming On Your Feet: Chapter 26

Read on Ao3!

Summary: Aelin Galathynius is one of the newest company members of the Rifthold Ballet Theatre, and she is eager to make all of her dreams a reality. She has the talent, the ambition, the walls no one can get past, and the thick skin that no one can get under. Except for new principal dancer Rowan Whitethorn. He’s arrogant, talented, and infuriating - and they just might have more in common than they think.

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Chapter 26: Movie Day

Aelin had been looking at the door for what felt like a lifetime.

She was there on time, as she always was for anything. But this wasn’t just anything.

This was a day with Rowan. Just him, just her. No one else.

Does that make it a date?

No. Just a day with my . . . best friend?

Sure. Let’s call it that.

Oh, who am I kidding? It’s a day off to have fun, so let’s make it one.

Aelin adjusted her bag on her shoulder, using her other hand to knock on Rowan’s door.

It was only half a heartbeat before it opened.

As always, she had to lift her head to meet his gaze. The edges of his eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her. “Morning!” she chirped with a grin.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Rowan said, opening the door wider for her to enter his apartment. “Are you ready to do absolutely nothing today?”

“I feel like this is going to be a lot harder than it sounds,” Aelin said with a laugh. “I’m not very good at sitting still for very long.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“Oh, we both know you can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do myself,” Aelin countered.

Rowan barked a laugh as he took her bag from off her shoulder. “This is going to be quite a great day.”

----------

Rowan settled on the couch as Aelin popped her first movie into his TV. “What’ve you got there?” he asked.

She padded back around the coffee table, plopping down next to him. “The Two Towers,” she replied with a grin.

“Not the first or the third movies?” he asked curiously.

Aelin shrugged. “Two Towers has always been my favorite,” she said, picking up the remote as the main menu appeared. “Gandalf’s return, Merry and Pippin and the Ents, everything that happens in Rohan, the Battle of Helm’s Deep . . . I feel like you learn the most about the characters in this one.”

Rowan was inclined to agree with her. “That’s fair.”

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Aelin reached for her bag, pulling out a heating pad. “If today is about taking care of ourselves, then for the love of the gods, please use a heating pad on your shoulder.”

“Why do I need –”

“You hold most of your tension in your left shoulder, just like me,” she observed with a knowing smile. “You’re not going to make it through Romeo if you let it get worse.”

Romeo.

She knows. She figured it out.

His heart thundered in his chest. “So. . . now you know, huh?” Oh, gods, oh, gods –

Aelin turned her turquoise gaze to him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a wink, lifting the ice pack he had provided her onto her foot. “Now shut up and watch the movie.”

Rowan let his eyes linger on her for a few extra moments before turning his attention to the movie.

Gods, I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?

----------

It wasn’t long before Aelin had drifted closer to Rowan on the couch. And it wasn’t long after that before his arm rested on the couch behind her. Everything about him, with him, just felt so. . . right.

She watched Aragorn and Eowyn conversing as the scene shifted to a flashback of Aragorn with Arwen, returning the jewel to his love and telling her to move on from him.

Her chest tightened. She knew what it was to feel unworthy of someone, to believe that they would be better off without you.

Her eyes burned as she looked at Arwen, whose own eyes shone with tears.

As if he read her thoughts, Rowan’s arm circled her shoulder, gently tugging her to rest her head on his shoulder. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

Aelin opted for a change of subject instead. “Is there a Lord of the Rings character you think you’re the most like?”

He looked down at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Is there one that you think I’m most like?”

“Hmm.” Aelin studied him for a moment, then looked back to the movie at Aragorn. “The first and obvious instinct would be Aragorn. The broodiness, the self-imposed expectations, the –”

“Okay, I get it,” Rowan chuckled.

“And you’re definitely as stubborn as Gimli.”

“Hey!”

“When it comes to looks, though, you’re closest to Legolas, minus the pointy ears.”

Rowan laughed. “Okay, fine. Two can play at that game.”

“Oh?” Aelin looked up at him again. “Think you have me pegged, Whitethorn?”

His eyes flashed at that. “You’re as stubborn as Sam.”

Interesting. . . “And?”

“And as loyal.” When she was silent, he continued. “And you’re as noble as Arwen. As intelligent as Legolas.”

She felt the color rise to her cheeks as he spoke, working up her courage to tell him the truth. He always deserved the truth. “I think you’re the most like Faramir though,” she said with a deep breath, turning her eyes back to the screen. Bracing herself for him to ask –

“Why do you say that?” he asked quietly.

“You’ve lost a lot,” she began tentatively. “You’re always striving to be better. To be more. Just like him. But the thing is. . . Faramir shouldn’t have to. He doesn’t have to.” She reached for his other hand, slowly lacing her fingers with his. “Because whether he knows it or not, he’s already the kind of person that the people around him need.”

Rowan was still.

Aelin held her breath, waiting for him to say something.

Then she felt his head rest lightly on hers, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. She felt him exhale, a bit shakily. Is he . . .

He muttered something into her hair, something she couldn’t understand.

She didn’t say anything, choosing instead to nestle closer to him. To the man who deserved to have all the happiness in the world.

She didn’t deserve him. There was no way the world would give her something like this, someone like him.

She just hoped that maybe, just maybe. . . she was enough.

----------

The rest of the movie was spent in silence, with some occasional chuckles at Gimli or Merry and Pippin. It had been a long time since Rowan had watched it, and he forgot how much he loved the series. It had always struck him deeply, how much the characters – and their struggles – resonated with him.

As the credits began to roll, he felt Aelin shift beside him. “I love that movie,” she sighed.

“Excellent way to start the day,” he agreed. He moved to stand up from the couch, heading to the TV and taking out the disc.

“So what do you have now?” she asked.

“How about something a little more lighthearted?” He made his way back towards the kitchen, taking a bowl of berries out of the fridge. “I’ve got a snack, too.” He set the bowl on the coffee table in front of Aelin, along with a smaller bowl of sugar.

She looked up at him in surprise. Okay, so maybe he had asked Lysandra what Aelin liked to munch on. . .

He gave her a wink and shrugged, sitting back down next to her as Pirates of the Caribbean began.

“Good choice, Whitethorn,” she said, nodding in approval.

“The first one’s still the best,” he replied with a smile. Then he noticed that the blue ice pack was lying on the coffee table – and there was no way it was still frozen. He immediately stood up again and picked it up.

“Hey, I can get it –”

“I’m making sure you’re not doing anything, remember?” he called from the kitchen. He always kept two ice packs in the freezer, so after he put the un-frozen one back, he took out the other.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Aelin huffed when he came back, handing her the frozen pack as he plopped back on the couch.

“I know you can, Aelin. Gods above, I know you can.” Rowan ran a hand through his hair. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to all the time.”

Her eyes softened. Rowan took her hand again, this time lifting it to his lips briefly before they lapsed into comfortable silence again.

“Do I get to help with dinner at least?” Aelin asked after a while.

Rowan chuckled. “Maybe.”

----------

Aelin did get to help with dinner after all.

Turns out Rowan had planned to make chicken parmesan, her favorite Italian dish. So naturally, Aelin had to make sure he got everything right.

She showed him how to season the tomatoes, how to fry the chicken just right so it wouldn’t burn. He took it all in, studying every movement she made when she was cooking. Of course, she let him do some of the work, too.

And they ended up with some of the best chicken parmesan Aelin had ever had.

Now, they were back on the couch – and the Disney movies had come out. The Emperor’s New Groove was followed by The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and they decided they’d watch one more before calling it a night.

“Here’s what I’ve got left,” Aelin said, holding up her bag for Rowan to browse. “You can pick the last one.”

Rowan rifled through the movies before pulling one out. “One of my favorites,” he admitted, gesturing to her copy of Hercules that he now held.

“Rowan Whitethorn is admitting to liking Disney movies?” Aelin drew back in mock surprise. “I’ve felt terrible for picking the last two, and here you were, secretly enjoying both!”

Rowan chuckled. “Okay, yes, I do enjoy Disney movies. Some infinitely more than others.” He moved to put it into the TV. “I could totally see you as Meg. For all the good reasons,” he clarified, coming back to sit by her.

“I take that as an absolute compliment,” Aelin said. “I could totally see you as awkward teenage Hercules, too.”

Rowan barked a laugh. “Well, you wouldn’t be far off, to be honest.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about awkard teenage Rowan.”

Rowan settled in beside her, opening his arm for her to nestle into again. Her hand found his automatically as the Muses began to sing on the screen. “Someday I’ll tell you all about him.”

----------

Hercules was, in all seriousness, one of Rowan’s favorite animated movies. It was one of the ones he had grown up with, one that had always given young Rowan something to strive for.

“Remember that whole training montage scene?” Rowan asked. “There was a rope swing by a lake near where I grew up. I may or may not have pretended to be Hercules when I swung into the lake as a kid.” He smiled at the memory.

But Aelin was quiet.

“What, no smart remarks? No comments about imagining little me pretending to be Hercules?” he asked. Still, she didn’t respond. He shifted to get a look at her face.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing soft and steady.

Aelin was asleep.

Rowan smiled. “I know you can’t hear me right now, but I just want to tell you that today was one of the most fun days I’ve ever had,” he whispered. He looked back at the screen, where Hercules was diving into the river of Death to retrieve Meg’s soul. “What is it Zeus says? ‘A true hero is defined by the strength of his heart,’ or something like that.”

Rowan brushed a stray lock of golden hair out of Aelin’s face, his fingers combing through the ends. “Have I ever told you how much I love your hair?” he said softly. “It reminds me of the color of the sun in the fall. Or that night that you were in the studio and you told me about Sam . . . your hair looked like the embers of a fire when you walked away.” He swallowed the lump in his throat at the memory. He looked down at the woman sleeping in his arms – this beautiful, brave, incredible woman. “And I remember going home that night and thinking that letting you walk away was the craziest, stupidest thing I had ever done.”

“People always do crazy things – when they’re in love.”

Rowan’s head shot up to look at the screen. He sighed, lightly resting his head on Aelin’s.

“Gods, they sure do, don’t they?”

#dreaming on your feet #rowaelin #rowan #aelin #fanfic #sarah j maas #this is what happens when you're a ballet dancer who loves ToG #ballet #alternate universe #au #writer #movies #date day #lotr #the two towers #aragorn #arwen #faramir #pirates of the caribbean #potcedit #lord of the rings #hercules #meg #love

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Oh Goody, Trolls

Summary: It's a miserable day for everyone and just when Nell thinks things can't possibly get worse they do.

Pairing: Fili X wife!OC X Kili

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1773

Nell normally liked rain storms. They soothed her as she relaxed inside with a good book and a cup of tea, or as she sat next to a fire sewing and knitting, she even enjoyed lazy sex with her husbands on those days. She just loved the way the earth smelled after a good washing, as if everything was wiped clean and the world could start anew. Today was not like that however. No, today she was soaked clear to the bone and cold even with the extra cloak Kili had given her. She wanted nothing more than for the rain to stop and the sun to come out. And she wasn't the only one in the company who was unhappy about the rain.

“Here Mr.Gandalf can't you do something about this deluge?” Dori spoke up.

Gandalf let out a heavy sigh. “It is raining master dwarf and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world you should find yourself another wizard.”

Nell let out a huff. “We'll just get right on that. Not like we're on an important quest or anything,” she muttered. The cold nasty weather had put her in a fowl mood; one she didn't see herself coming out of anytime soon. “It'll be alright amrâlimê. Well make camp soon enough and Fee and I will warm you up,” Kili promised. That did make her smile softly. “That we will. You'll be nice and toasty soon enough,” Fili added. If Nell could she would have kissed them right then. “I do like the sound of that.” Promises of cuddles with her husbands put her in a slightly better mood.

As did little Bilbo a few moments later. After Gandalf finished telling him about Radagast the brown, Bilbo asked, “And is he a great wizard or is he more like you?” Nell couldn't hold the snicker back that left her. Oh how sassy that hobbit was! She truly enjoyed having him along on the quest. He certainly made things interesting. Of course this happy mood that Fili, Kili, and Bilbo had put her in didn't get to last for long. Although now the sun was out and she was able to take off her soaked clothes and hang them near the fire, her husbands were put to watching the ponies by a very grumpy Thorin.

She let out a grumble and sat next to the fire with her arms crossed. Ori came over and joined her looking at her with a small smile. “I know you would rather be with Fili and Kili, but I thought I'd keep you company and bring you this.” He handed her a knitted quilt which she wrapped around her shoulders. “I like your company just as well. And thank you for the quilt.” She sat there talking to Ori about knitting patterns and some of the beautiful sights they had seen so far. But when Bofur asked Bilbo to take food to Fili and Kili she jumped up to join him. She'd use any excuse to see her husbands.

Of course even that went wrong. Nell decided that Mahal just had it out for her today; that had to be it. There was no other reason for the streak of bad luck today had brought. For as they joined Fili and Kili neither of them looked to her or Bilbo. “What's the matter?” Bilbo asked.

“We're supposed to be looking after the ponies.” Kili didn't even bother looking toward Bilbo.

“Only we've encountered a slight problem.” Fili added finally looking at Bilbo and Nell. She really didn't like the sound of that.

“We had 16,” said Kili

“Now there's 14,” Fili finished

“Daisy and Bungo are missing,” Kili informed them as the four began walking through the little group of ponies. Nell let out a groan. “Yep, today can not get any worse.” Of course she had no idea how wrong she was, things were about to get much worse. And she would hate herself for jinxing all of them. “Well that's not good. Ha ha.” Bilbo stated the obvious making Nell look at him as if to say, ‘Ya think?’ They then noticed the uprooted tree and Nell was beginning to wonder just how well the princes had been watching the ponies that something large enough to uproot trees had came in and stolen two of them.

“And that is not good at all. Shouldn't we tell Thorin?” Bilbo asked. Nell looked at him and shook her head. “Nope, nope. Definitely not.” He was in a bad enough mood as it was. No need to make it worse. “Uh, no. Let's not worry him,” Fili quickly agreed. “As our official burglar we thought you might like to look into it,” he added as he looked to Bilbo. Nell looked between the two quickly. “Wait, what?” She wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea.

Bilbo looked at them curiously. “Well uh. Look, something big uprooted these trees.” He pointed toward them still holding the bowls of stew for some strange reason. “That was our thinking,” Kili told him. “Something very big and possibly quite dangerous.” He moved closer to the tree and Fili. Nell stood on the other side next to Kili and looked down at him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She whispered to him worried about her little friend. “Of course and he needs to start proving himself if Thorin is to ever accept him,” he replied. Nell let out a sigh. “Fine, but if something happens I'm blaming you two.” Kili just gave her his most dazzling smile at that.

“Hey,” Fili whispered. Why was he whispering? Nell wondered. “There's a light,” he told them answering her thoughts. That made her heart plummet. Perhaps she had spoke too soon earlier. He waved them closer and they stayed low coming to rest behind a log as they stared toward the light. “What is it?” Bilbo asked. Even from here they could hear the grunting and laughing. “Trolls,” Kili answered before him, Fili, and Nell jumped over the log and rushed forward wanting to get a closer look. Bilbo followed moments later still carrying the bowls of stew. Nell lifted her hands up and said, “Why?” As she looked at the bowls. Bilbo looked at them and shrugged. “Didn't think we should leave food behind.”

One of the trolls walked by carrying two more of the ponies. Yep, things just got worse. “He's got Myrtle and Minty. I think they're gonna eat them. We have to do something,” Bilbo's tone was rushed, but determined. Kili looked up at him from where he was squatted. “Yes, you should,” he said. He stood up and moved behind Bilbo. “Mountain Trolls are slow and stupid, and you're small, they'll never see you.” Bilbo began arguing right away not that Nell blamed him. Even she was giving Kili a pointed look from her place next to Fili. “It's perfectly safe. We'll be right behind you.” Fili then grabbed one bowl of stew while Kili grabbed the other. “If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl.” With that they grabbed Nell and pulled her away with them.

Nell crossed her arms and stared them both down. “This isn't going to end well. I doubt he knows how to even hoot like an owl. You two are so ridiculous sometimes,” she scolded. “I'm going to get Thorin, don't worry,” Fili told her. A sigh left her and she nodded her head. “Alright I'll stay with Kee, just in case.” In case Bilbo got caught that was. Which it was a good thing they stayed behind because Bilbo did in fact get caught.

Nell and Kili went running in slashing at the trolls legs in tandem before moving back and glaring up at the three ugly creatures. “Drop him,” they both said at the same time. “You what?” The troll, William, who was holding Bilbo asked. Kili twirled his sword before gripping the hilt with both hands. “We said drop him,” his voice was full of venom. But the troll did as told, well sort of. He threw Bilbo who landed on Kili just as the rest of the company came running into the fray. They all fought bravely and were even beating the trolls, but Bilbo who had managed to get free from the trolls got caught once again and this time there was no way out.

Some of the dwarves were tied on a spit over the fire while others were put into sacks and laid uncomfortably on the ground. Nell was propped up against Thorin giving her a good view of the fire as the trolls argued on how to cook them. Bilbo called out to trolls, “Wait! You are making a terrible mistake.” He hopped up to his feet and Nell watched him with narrowed eyes wondering what he was up to. Many  of the dwarves started making comments, but Bilbo ignored them. “I meant with uh with the with the seasoning,” he stuttered out.

“What about the seasoning?” asked Bert.

“Well, have you smelt them? You're gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.” None of the dwarves liked that and were now throwing insults at Bilbo. All except Nell. She knew Bilbo wasn't betraying them, she just wasn't entirely sure what he was up to.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?” William  asked.

“Shut up. Let the flurgaburburhobbit talk,” Bert said moving closer to Bilbo.

“Th-the secret to cooking dwarf is…” Bilbo trailed off.

“Yes? Come on. Tell us the secret.”

“It's, uh...Yes, I'm telling you. The secret is….to skin them first.”

Yep, they were gonna die. Nell was sure of it. She couldn't see a way out of this. Then the trolls started arguing again and almost ate Bombur until Bilbo stopped them. “Not that one. He’s infected. He's got worms in his...tubes. In fact they all have. Infested with parasites. Really nasty business, I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't.” Which prompted the dwarves to start yelling until Thorin kicked them. “Mine are the biggest parasites. I've got huge parasites,” yelled Kili. And if the situation wasn't so dire Nell would have laughed. Luckily for all of them moments later Gandalf showed up. “The dawn will take you all.” He slammed his staff down on a bolder causing it to crack and let the sun shine through and hit the trolls turning them to stone.

The dwarves were saved. And Nell couldn't be happier.

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[writingfromkitchenator]

Accidents 14

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The longer the battle went, the worse Louisa felt, but she kept it hidden from the dwarves as much as she could, she didn't want them to worry more than what they already were.

Dwalin had disappeared some time ago, but Louisa knew that he needed to be away, that listening to the battle beyond the wall was near torture to him.

Louisa flinched a little, the pain echoing through her and making her stand, agitated. She had never thought that her magic could do this, could overwhelm her so that she would feel inflections of every blow, feel the murmurs of every life stopped.

Every step felt heavy, felt like she was going to collapse under the weight of it all. There was nothing she could do and before she realised it, she was crying.

The others didn't know what to do about it, as she waved any of them off that tried to offer comfort, but it seemed too short a time that her legs gave out.

Louisa expected to hit the floor, to not be able to get back up, but a pair of hands caught her and clarity flooded her.

Clarity filled with sorrow, regret and care.

With shining eyes, she looked almost in disbelief at Thorin, making him give a small smile, his eyes clear.

"Thorin." She gasped, knowing that he had pulled himself out, she threw her arms around him, lettting the tears come as he held her close.

"Louisa," He said quietly and then placed his hand in hers. "Come with me."

Louisa let herself be led away, hardly paying attention to the worried glances behind her, her focus moving entirely to Thorin, which helped her come back to herself.

"Thorin," Her voice croaked, her hand squeezing his. "What-what happened?"

"I broke free." He said softly. "And I am so sorry Louisa."

This brought on new tears. "It wasn't you. You weren't well."

"It does not excuse me." He said. "Especially...especially to you."

She stopped, making him stop too. "Thorin, you cannot go out there blaming yourself like this, I will not let you."

Louisa could feel his heart breaking as he stepped back to her, holding her gaze as he cupped her cheek. "Gimlelul..."

"Thorin," Her voice went quiet, unsure, for once, being unsure of whay was going through him. "Talk to me. Please."

"I can't..." Thorin sighs, placing his other hand on her cheek before resting his forehead against hers and Louisa shudders, the emotion so clear that she doesn't know how to respond.

Louisa presses her hands on his. "Why?"

"Because it would kill me." He said, brushing her tears away. "With what I have to do, it would kill me."

"Thorin-"

He cuts her off, pressing his lips to hers, Louisa gasping a little at the sudden rush of emotions and feeling, before her eyes flutter closed and she gives herself over to it.

For a long moment, it becomes just the two of them, the world around them drowned out, Louisa holding onto Thorin tightly, keeping herself as grounded as she could, but the battle vanished from her mind, warmth filling her,

Thorin gives a low groan, backing her into a door in the hallway that they were in, dominating the kiss more intensely as he held her tightly.

Louisa whimpered and Thorin broke away, resting against her forehead again as they both took a moment to breath.

"Louisa..." Thorin's voice was low as she met his gaze again, his eyes dark and hooded as his thumb gently traced her lip. "I love you."

Her breath caught and for a moment, she's not sure how to react, but once her thoughts catch up, she doesn't get a chance.

Thorin opened the door behind her and she stumbled back, confused and staring at him, but one look at him told her what he was doing.

"I'm sorry." His voice broke as he closed the door and she heard the lock click.

"No!" Louisa hit the door, trying the handle quickly. "Thorin don't!" But Thorin doesn't respond even though she knows he is there, she can feel his indecision. "Thorin, please, please don't leave me here. Let me come with you."

She hears him give a shuddering breath, feels his determination overwhelm everything else, and then feels him move away.

Her cries through the door follow Thorin down the hallway and he had to hurriedly wipe the tears away from his eyes, determined not to let it show to others as he returns to them. They all took one look and knew what he had done, and none of them commented, glad that Louisa was at least out of the way, that she wouldn't come to harm.

Louisa could feel the charge into battle, felt the resolve of the dwarves change as Thorin and the rest joined them, and even before her voice went hoarse from shouting, she lost track of them in amongst everyone else. She paced, distressed, the pain coming through so much clearer now as she thought of every possible solution she could think of.

She felt confused, unsure and her chest felt tight as fear threatened to overwhelm her, occasionally glaring at the door hoping it would magically open.

She froze. "Oh you idiot!"

Barely thinking, Louisa built up her magic and blasted it at the door, which splintered into thousands of pieces and Louisa stepped out.

She was breathing hard now, magic sparking at her fingertips, it was anxious, bordering on uncontrolled, but she wasn't in a mood to currently care, taking off as fast she could down the hall, barely registering a bad feeling that was growing within her chest again.

Louisa almost faltered as she comes out to the battlefield, all the death and pain surrounding her, making her eyes water, but she pushes it away and goes out.

It took the dwarves on the battlefield a little while to realise what was causing orcs to both fly through the air and to flee across the field in terror. Bofur was first to see Louisa though, a light surrounding her that blades couldn't seem to penetrate, her eyes burning with fury, magic blasting from her hands.

The company were quick to join her side.

"Louisa, what are you-"

"Where is Thorin?" She asked loudly, cutting Bofur off. "And Fili, Kili and Dwalin?"

The dwarves share looks.

"Ravenhill." Gloin said quietly. "But trust us lass, you don't won't to go up there."

"I-" Louisa staggered, clutching her stomach, a sharp gasp leaving her as pain that wasn't her own flared through her.

"No," She gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "No!"

Over in the ruins of Dale, Bard was fighting for his life when he felt a spot on his chest heat up, he almost thought that he'd been wounded, but after a quick check he realised that it was coming from the stone that he still had buried under his coat, which was starting to glow, the orcs around him beginning to screech.

Louisa didn't dare fight the torrent of power that rushed through her, didn't dare try to understand the flux of emotions that were causing it.

There was no stopping this.

A scream left her, a scream she couldn't hear, but the dwarves around her had enough time to dive to the ground before a wave of power flew from her, matched only by another that came from Dale.

Gandalf staggered as it hit him and his gaze is instantly drawn to the battlefield.  "Louisa, what have you  done?"

The confusion and fear and pain meant nothing to her now, Louisa walking through, nothing daring to come close, her eyes burning with a bright, white light.

Bilbo was by Thorin's side, his hand in his as Thorin struggled in the last moments of life, the final breath leaving him and Bilbo starts to weep.

His head snaps back up as he catches sight of a glow, familiar to him, but still different, his eyes going wide as he sees Louisa approaching.

Bilbo scrambles to his feet.  "Louisa, I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do!"

Louisa's expression is calm.  "Move aside Bilbo."

"Louisa, are you not-"

"Everything will be okay."  Her voice is different and Bilbo can do naught but stare as she walks past him and kneels beside Thorin.

Carefully, she brushes his hair away from his face before her attention turns to his injuries.

Firmly, one hand rests over the wound in his stomach, the other over his eyes.

"Come back Thorin," Her words were hardly spoken.  "You need to come back."

Louisa's eyes close and Bilbo has to take a step back as a white light surrounds her, Thorin quickly being engulfed too.  By now, the other dwarves and Gandalf had caught up, watching this wide eyes.

"Louisa..." Gandalf's voice was worried and quiet, but all he could do was watch.

The light seemed to grow brighter before two balls seemed to break away, moving off towards the ruins, one towards the base, the other deeper within.

Dwalin was near Fili as the ball hit him, lighting him up too and making Dwalin curse as he's forced to back away from the prince.

Tauriel was cradling Kili and tried to move away from the ball but it was too quick, maybe her cry out as Kili lit up.

Surrounding Thorin and Louisa now, there was only light, everyone cautious, knowing they could not approach.

Then, slowly, it started to fade, dimming down until it was only the hand on his chest that remained.

Thorin drew a shaky first birth, Louisa opening her eyes, the glow still within as she cupped his cheek.

His eyes opened and met hers, the blue surprised for a moment until they softened.  "Louisa..."

Louisa smiled, the light finally dying as her eyes flicker shut and she collapses next to him.

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