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bagofshinyrocks · 3 months

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Green-Eyed Monster

Prompt: Established relationship; Reader is jealous of someone flirting with their spouse Thranduil, who is oblivious [inspo from @nightfall-writer]

Featuring: Thranduil Oropherion x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: nothing besides my "Tauriel and Legolas are BFFs" propaganda

You had no reason for envy.

You were happily wed to the love of your life. Joined the royalty of Eryn Galen through your marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion. Doted upon by your husband, and cared for by your subjects. You wanted for nothing.

And yet… in had crept “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” (Othello III:3).

There was never any doubt in your mind that Thranduil was faithful to you. His love for you was as unwavering as water downhill. As was yours for him.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you, and all but melted into your embrace in the privacy of your bedchambers. The touch of your hand more calming than chamomile. The taste of your lips more intoxicating than wine. Your bare skin more alluring than a soft bed after a long day.

But as wise and regal as your husband was, he could be a bit thick in the head at times.

It had been a whole ordeal for the two of you to come together in the first place. A host of conspirators, led by Legolas and Tauriel. An idiotic dance as the two of you convinced yourselves that your feelings were unrequited. You were surprised that your now step-son had not smacked either of you upside the head at least once. His patience was unparalleled. In this instance at least.

So you couldn’t quite blame your husband for not recognizing others’ romantic interest in him.

There were nobles from other lands, elf, dwarrow, and man alike, who were visiting. After the Battle of the Five Armies and the retaking of Erebor by the line of Durin, he decided (i.e. he was persuaded) to expand trade relations, renew treaties, and welcome ambassadors. It seemed that almost every month brought someone new to his halls.

And you weren’t surprised that someone else would find your husband attractive. Not at all.

When you first met him, you could barely breathe. Ageless beauty. Sleek, shining blond hair. Piercing blue eyes. Luxurious clothing and jewelry with more detail than one could find in a day. Voice and speech that crept into your ears and made a home in your mind. You found the Sindar attractive the moment you saw him.

For an ambassador or noble to find Thranduil handsome meant their eyes functioned in some capacity. To find his voice and speech charming, their ears. That did not bother you. It was when their feelings changed like yours did, from aesthetic appreciation to romantic desire.

And he was oblivious to it all. Your speechlessness the day you met, your intimidation at meeting a king. The eagerness for those to meet with him, an eagerness to engage with Eren Galen and its wealth of materials, labor, and beauty.

Jealousy seemed so irrational an emotion. Thranduil was wholly yours; inattentive towards other romantic pursuits. Doted upon you. Craved your company and affection at all times

But it ate at you. Others and their lingering glances. Flirtatious words. Gentle brushes against him. And the ugliness of what you felt.

Your marriage was still recent, especially by elven standards. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. To act like a child who refuses to let others play with their toy. You would turn away and pretend you did not see it, or skip meetings you were not invited to.

Thranduil was concerned. Held you close at night. Reminded you how much he loved you and how brilliant you were. How lucky he was to have you in his life and as his spouse. He must have thought that all the social engagements were draining you.

“I thank you for meeting with us, sir.” You stood from your seat at the head of the table, and everyone else leaped to their feet. It was still a little strange for so many people to hang on your every word. “I will bring your proposal to King Thranduil shortly.”

The man from Dale beamed and bowed low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Most of the councilors filed out, but the nobleman scampered over to your side. Another low bow which you met with a nod.

“Long have I heard of the beauty of elves, Your Majesty…” A quirk in your eyebrow reminded him of his place, and he quickly caught himself. “The beauty of your halls, your craftsmanship and arts. It is an honor to see it all.”

You gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

He opened his mouth again for more flattery, but another voice interrupted. One from the doorway.

“Meleth nín?”

There stood your husband, dressed in robes blue as water in moonlight. A tall crown of silver branches. White stones imitated snow and ice amongst the delicate wire.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said, not even sparing the nobleman a glance, “but I must speak with my love now.”

The nobleman quickly excused himself, but hadn’t the chance to leave the room before Thranduil had your hands in his, and his lips on yours.

When he leaned in, you expected a chaste kiss against your cheek. Instead, one hand settled on the back of your neck, and the other placed your hand against his chest. Its opposite quickly mirrored and both of your hands held the fabric of his robe.

Your lips were shiny and your face warm by the time your husband pulled away from you. All the tension had melted from him, and he wasted no time in pressing his forehead against yours and letting his eyes flutter closed again. Once his breath came easy again, he gave you a chaste kiss on the nose.

“Forgive my forwardness, meleth nín,” he cooed in Sindarin, a gentle brush of his hand over your cheek.

“Nothing to forgive, husband.” A kiss to his nose. “How could I be upset at the notion that my husband, the most handsome of all who have lived, live now, and will ever life, desires me?”

A smile at your words, and another kiss on your forehead.

That evening, the two of you were entwined on the couch in your apartments. His head rested against your chest, against your heartbeat, and your fingers combed through his hair and rubbed his back.

A fire crackled in the hearth, and two half-drunk goblets of wine sat on the table at your elbow. A comfortable silence, broken after a good while by a single word.

“Beloved,” he asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“I have a confession. And need your advice.”

The hand formerly in his hair transferred to gently scratch the back of his neck and you briefly squeezed him close with the other arm. He adjusted so he could look up at your face a bit better.

“Of course, meleth nín. What is it?”

“When you were speaking to that man from Dale… I had a foolish thought. Jealousy. I’ve felt it a great deal over the past few weeks, thought I never acted upon it. Until today. I feel childish now, interrupting and publicly expressing physical affection in neither the right time nor the right place. I-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. A startled noise from him, then he pulled himself further up the couch so you could kiss more passionately. He wasn’t entirely sure why you were so taken with the idea of him being so immature, but he was glad you weren’t disappointed.

A quick huff of breath as you pulled apart.

“I love you so much,” you panted, then breaking into giggles. His brows furrowed.

“What is so funny?”

You kissed his nose. “Because I have been feeling jealous the past few weeks. And I hadn’t a clue you were feeling similarly.”

“Why are you feeling jealous?”

“Because,” you flicked his chest, “you have an entourage of nobles, merchants, and ambassadors doting after you. And I was disappointed in myself for being so immature.”

“I do?”

A very unregal snort from you. “Meleth nín, for one so wise, you are so…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

More giggles from you. “Very well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and his nose was tucked comfortably against your throat. The soothing warmth of his breath and the movement of his chest almost lulled you to sleep.

“I don’t think feeling jealousy is a bad thing,” you mused, fingers tracing the embroidery of his leisure dress. “It is a natural part of our behavior, to feel protective of things we love. And you weren’t rude or aggressive, for which I would have been unhappy. I’m glad you love me so much that somewhere in you,” a tap to the side of his head, as if to point the spot out, “a primal sliver encourages you to keep me all to yourself.”

A deep kiss from your husband. One hand behind your neck, cradling your head. The other crept between your back and the couch, fingers pressing into your flesh, pulling you into him as if any distance between you two still existed. You were smiling wide against his lips.

“How silly we both are,” he chuckled after leaning back for air.

Your fingers combed through his hair, finally settling to gently scratch the scalp around his ears.

“Indeed we are, my love.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2024 March 7

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fluff #thranduil oropherion #thranduil oropherion x reader

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hermoonself · 1 month

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I need help, I feel completely insecure about writing any hobbit fanfiction because what if I'm wrong. What if I don't know the correct information about dwarrow or hobbits or the middle earth, I didn't read the books yet. or what if I write like shit and don't convey what is going on right and people are confused and what if I suck or what if my language is not enough (English is my second language) and the words I use are not correct or fancy enough because in hobbit fanfiction the language is always immaculate please help me overcome this if you can

#bagginshield #the hobbit #writing #fanfiction

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buttered-my-biscuits · 6 months

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Fever Kisses

(A/N); First, I’d like to apologize to everyone for falling off the face of the earth this last YEAR. I’ve been diagnosed as Immunocompromised, so it’s been a fun ride catching every single cold known to man :’) Currently getting over a 3-week long cold, and I’m Miserable, so I need a healthy dose of our favorite dwarven brothers. — This is also my 1st Fic/Drabble ever, so here goes nothing!

Summary: A wet rainy night proves no challenge for dwarves or hobbits. The same, however, cannot be said for humans.

Pairings; Kili x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings; Fevers/Sickness, Very soft and fluffy fluff, with a bit of angst and drama.

Translations:

Ibrizinlêkh: Sunshine

Bunnel: Treasure of All Treasures

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The rain poured harder than ever before, showing no mercy to the trees, the bees, and certainly no dwarves.

The dark and stormy clouds blanketed the skies, casting shadows amongst the rolling hills. Soaked to the bone, through cloaks and tunics, still the company of Thorin Oakenshield trudged on.

Dwarrow are hardy folk; cold and damp environments bothering them none. Humans on the other hand, however, do not share the same trait.

(Y/N) found herself at the back of the line, trudging her way through ankle-deep mud, her arms wrapped around herself in hopes of holding onto whatever warmth was left. Kili stayed close, whereas Fili opted to lead the pack side-by-side with Thorin.

Quiet conversation could be heard from certain members of the company, including the one beside you. Kili regaled you with his adventures with the Blue Mountains and how Fili had scored a 5-point Buck with a single throw of a dagger, enhancing his story with wild gesturing hand movements.

“— And man, you should have seen Amad’s face when we got back with the buck! I daresay she had never looked more proud!” Kili boasted properly. “…(Y/N)?”

You looked up, meeting his soft honey eyes, not realizing you had stopped in movement. “(Y/N), are you alright? Are you tired?” Kili took a step towards you, concern etching its way onto his face. You stared at him, a strange, skin-crawling feeling rolling up your spine, a harsh shiver wracking your frame.

Kili closed the short distance between you, his hand gently landing on your arm before repeating his question. Only, this time, as the sound hit your ears, it sounded as though he were not speaking Common Speech at all. Your face scrunched in confusion, before it hit you. You felt a gasp rip through you as you quickly grabbed hold of Kili’s tunic, your legs feeling as though they were to give out. Your vision swirled as though you were one with a tornado, nausea quickly settling in.

Beyond the ringing of your ears, you could hear Kili yelling something, before the shadows of the others came into your peripherals. You tried to breathe, feeling the weight of a thousand bricks upon your chest — you felt as though you were suffocating; your vision began to darken with infectious black spots. Increasing your hold on Kili’s tunic as one last whimper escaped, you felt yourself fall.

—————————————————

“…(Y/N?)” Kili called back to you, having paused in his story at your stillness. He closed the distance between you two, lying his hand on your arm. He called to you once more, only to be met with confusion. He found himself mirroring your expression, if but only for a moment, before that expression quickly turned to terror as your body seized.

One arm shot out to hold up your weakening frame, the other gripping your arm tightly. “Uncle!” Kili shouted, his panicked tone ringing through the air. One look back from both Fili and Thorin had them sprinting to the back of the line.

“What happened to her?” Fili inquired while quickly reaching out with the goal of steadying you. His fear quickly grew as your weak frame shuddered one last time, before alast going limp. Barely catching you in time, he quickly hauled you upwards into his arms, your head lolling heavily against his chest.

Thorin laid his hand upon your too-warm forehead, quietly cursing in Khuzdul. “We need to find shelter. Now!” Thorin barked at the others, watching as they quickly scrambled towards the rocky cliff side.

—————————————————

Safely inside the dry remains of the cavern, a fire was hastily made while Fili and Kili worked to lay out a bedroll for you. Oin frantically dug through his pack, looking for his medicines and ailments as Thorin dug through his own looking for anything dry.

“We need to get her into dry clothes. This will do for now.” Thorin held out an oversized, but dry Tunic.

Fili and Kili shared a look, waiting for their Uncles’ instructions. Surely he didn’t expect them to undress her? Sensing his nephews hesitance, Thorin grumbled under his breath. “All of you. Turn away, now!” Thorin barked once more, before shedding your jacket. Together with his nephews, they worked to undress you, much to said nephews embarrassment.

Moments later, you lay peacefully upon a bedroll, clothed by nothing more than Thorin’s tunic, and a blanket modestly wrapped around your lower half.

Oin knelt beside you, lifting your head gently as he pressed a small glass vial to your lips. “Come on lass, swallow it down.” Oin quietly prayed, pouring the liquid onto your tongue, before sighing with relief at the sight of your body naturally swallowing the rather horrible tasting liquid.

“And now we wait.”

—————————————————

You were floating through the air — clouds more specifically. You were sure of it. You breathed in deeply through your nose, smelling the distinct smell of… a campfire? Surely not in the clouds…

You forced your heavily eyelids to open, finding yourself looking up at a pair of dwarves, whom were sitting side-by-side, heads leaning against one another as they both slept peacefully.

You attempted to recall how you got in said dwarves’ lap, but your brain felt far too mushy and not up to the task. You brought your hand up to Fili’s arm, with the intention of pulling yourself up. However upon doing so, you found yourself with not even enough strength to close your fist around said arm. Grumbling slightly, you tried again.

“Would you like some help?” A tired voice whispered beside you, causing you to jump. You looked up to see ice blue eyes peering back at you, a soft smile creeping their way into them.

At your silence, Fili brought his hand to your forehead once more, clicking his tongue at his findings. “You still have a fever. You need to rest more.” Fili pawed at your blanket, bringing it farther up your body, before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Here, Fee. Get her to drink some water.” Kili, awakened at the commotion, handed Fili an opened canteen. Slowly, Fili helped you sit up with a hand at your back, the other bringing the canteen to your lips. You sighed at the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down your throat; Refreshing. A few sips and Fili lowered it, much to your dismay. “Not too much at once, Ibrizinlêkh.” He chuckled, handing it back to Kili.

Swiping your tongue over your now moist lips, you sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, before shimmying back down to rest your head upon Fili’s chest once more.

Eventually, quiet conversation broke out between the two brothers, offering you distraction while you rested your heavily eyelids. Before long though, you found yourself peering back up at them, breaking said conversation as they both returned your gaze, a sight of content and fondness donning their faces.

Without thinking, you found yourself gripping Fili’s outer coat, raising yourself up to his chin. Using your other hand, you placed it on the back of his neck, gently guiding his nose to rest alongside your own. Instinctively Fili closed his eyes upon the close proximity; you gently lifted your head slightly, to rub your nose along his. Up, down. Up, down. And a third time, before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you…” You whispered quietly, before pulling back to reveal a stunned look upon his face. Had your brain not been mush, you surely would have laughed.

Looking to his right, you found Kili staring, dumbfounded at your stunt. Chuckling, you reached for his cheek. Despite his confusion, Kili leaned forward until his nose lay along side yours. Up, down. Up, down. A third time. Slowly, intimately.

Pulling back, you found yourself wearing a content smile, theirs quickly mirroring your own. “Goodnight” you offered softly, before settling back down into Fili’s arms.

“Goodnight… Ibrizinlêkh.”

“Goodnight, Bunnel.”

—————————————————

As the sun climbed over the horizon, you stretched comfortably, before opening your eyes. Once again, you found yourself peering upwards at a pair of blue eyes, alongside a pair of honey-brown.

“Good morning you two!” You yawned.

“Good morning (Y/N)” Kili returned,

“Good morning.” Fili whispered softly.

The company worked to pack up camp after each companion ensuring your health, before Thorin set them off once more.

Beginning your steps, you were stopped by a couple of hands — one upon your wrist, and the other on your arm. “(Y/N), can we ask you something?” Turning to meet both Fili and Kili’s eyes, yours in question. “Last night… you had… uhm.” Kili started, looking to his brother for assistance.

Fili touched his own nose, before continuing: “you had rubbed your nose with ours… what does that mean?”

You quickly found yourself stifling a laugh behind your hand, furthering their confused expressions. “Did I offer you both one? I’m sorry! My fever must have did away with my manners… it’s called an Eskimo Kiss. Thank you for taking care of me yesterday, both of you.” You grabbed each of their hands, offering a quick squeeze before turning back and following the others.

Fili and Kili found themselves standing there, baffled, before your words soaked in. The next sight, was picture worthy… Their faces quickly resembled that of a strawberry.

“An Eskimo Kiss?!” They squealed, quickly chasing after you.

—————————————————

I wrote this on the fly, on my phone at 3AM, as I personally have my own fever, so if this is horrendous to read, I blame my fever.

I do not have a Beta, nor did I honestly proof this before posting… but regardless, I hope y’all enjoy! This wasn’t supposed to be this long, but, that’s how fics/drabbles are supposed to go, right?

Goodnight and to the doctors I go!

#hobbit #hobbit fanfic #kili #kili x reader #fili x reader #the hobbit #fili

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guardianofrivendell · 1 year

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If you do requests, I would love a Fili one! Specifically, his hobbit gf who has short hair tells him she’s going to grow it out so that he can finally put it in braids <33

A/N: this was such a cute request, thank you so much for sending it in (and your patience!)! Hope you like it!

Fíli x fem!hobbit (unnamed) OC

Requested: obviously

Warnings: just lots of teeth rotting fluff I guess?

Word count: 753 words

Always yours

“You’re staring again,” she said without taking her eyes off the page of her book. As handsome and charming as her companion was, the story she was reading was too intriguing and she really wanted to know what the heroine would do next.

But there came no response to her comment and eventually her curiosity got the best of her. She peeked over the edge of the paper, straight into the bright blue eyes of her intended.

“See? I knew I was right,” she teased with a smile.

Fíli chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest, making her smile even wider. There truly wasn’t a lovelier sound.

“Such beauty as yours is meant to be admired, ibrizinlêkhê, you cannot fault me for doing so.”

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she resumed her reading, a blush colouring her cheeks at the given praise. Even after months of courting she still wasn’t used to the numerous compliments Fíli showered her with.

“Your hair’s getting quite long,” Fíli commented as he let his fingers glide through her deep brown curls. “I suppose it’s almost time to cut it again.”

She didn’t miss the disappointment in his voice, even though she knew he’d tried to hide it. She usually let her curls grow until it reached her shoulders, or until it was at ‘proper Hobbit-length’ as she’d always say, before the scissors would appear. Even though Fíli knew hair wasn’t as important to Hobbits as it was to Dwarrows, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness every time his future wife took out the scissors.

But now it almost brushed her collarbones, the longest it had ever been and Fíli loved it. How the curls danced around her face as she was running around the kitchen, cooking yet another feast, or how they framed her perfectly round face as she was engrossed in one of her books, shielding her from prying eyes. His fingers itched to braid her auburn locks, to take three strands and weave them together, following an all-too-familiar pattern, sealing it with a bead containing his sigil and making her truly his in the eyes of Mahal. But he respected her too much, and the last thing he would want for her was to abandon her own culture.

“About that…” she began, pulling him out of his thoughts. She went to the heavy wooden chest of drawers, took something out of the top drawer and placed it in his hand with a shy smile. A pair of scissors.

Fíli’s eyes went wide at the suggestion. “You cannot ask me to… I can’t-”

He loved her with all his heart, she was his whole world without any doubt, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do if she asked him to, but this request was really pushing his limits.

The Hobbit girl laughed, her giggles like tiny bells in the evening breeze, and she folded her small hands around his large one holding the scissors, closing it with an encouraging squeeze.

“I don’t want you to use them,” she reassured him, “I want you to keep them, since I have no need for them anymore.”

Fíli stared at her, his features twisted in confusion, before he realised what it meant. He dropped the scissors and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, the book she was reading toppling to the ground but neither of them noticed. As he let go of her, his hands moved from her waist to cup her cheeks, brushing a strand of hair out of her face with his thumb.

“I know how important this is to you, and your kin. You’ve done so many things to make me feel at home. So I decided I wanted to grow out my hair, long enough for you to braid it. And I think we’re there, don’t you?”

Fíli positively beamed with happiness, blinking a few times as if he couldn’t believe what had just occurred. He closed the already small distance between them with a small tug, and kissed her hard, a kiss full of passion and promises and want.

As they separated, both catching their breaths, he took something out of his pocket, and opened his hand, revealing a silver bead. “I’ve carried this with me ever since we started courting, but I never thought... Ibrizinlêkhê, would you do me the honour of letting me braid your hair?”

She smiled, her eyes a little teary at the sheer happiness and nodded.

“Always.”

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata18033 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @the-banannah @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @elvish-sky @moony-artnstuff @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @hey-its-nonny @beenovel @cassiabaggins @shethereadinghobbit @justfollowtheroad @laurfilijames @fizzyxcustard @brokennerdalert @linasofia @naimadrawsstuff @errruvande-2-0 @amaryllis23 @enchantzz @narniaandthenorth @sketch-and-write-lover @blairsanne @ruthoakenshield @midearthwritings @alone19-24 @medusas-hairband @ren-ni @kyramaximoff @megnotfound @middleearthpixie @aduialel @tree0frog @trappedinlimbo15 @brethil13

Fíli taglist: @bluewingedangel @spidergirla5 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @clumsy-wonderland @i-always-come-back-xoxo

#Fíli #Fili x reader #Fili drabble #Fili Durin #The Hobbit #The Hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit drabble #Guardianofrivendell #lotr #The Hobbit imagine #The Hobbit request

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ema0rsully · 3 months

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Ok, hear me out. Au idea here.

What if after death, spirits get to choose whether or not to leave or to stay for any unaccounted business.

So imagine, when Boromir was trusted with arrows and died, he had the chance to go to heaven but he was like “No, I need to protect the little ones” and the Valars were like, “Ok, sure man. Do your thing. No rush”.

He goes back to watch over Merry and Pippin in the hopes that it will provide some closure to see them safe and sound somehow, but only to encounter a couple of dwarrows by their side. He could tell by their wild long hair and the braids sticking out. Also the short height.

Boromir: I’m sorry but are you acquaintances of the hobbits?

The dwarrows chuckled and shook their heads leaving the man confused, leading him to ask again.

Boromir: Well, we should properly introduce ourselves since I have no clue who you are. I am-

“We know who ya are, mate! No need for introductions!” The blonde one says before shaking Boromir’s hand.

“The names Fíli.” The blonde smiled warmly. The other smiled too, “Kíli.”.

Then the two bowed “At yer service!”.

Kíli patted Boromir’s back,

Kíli: Ya fought well for a Man

Boromir: Oh, I dont think I did enough. I couldn’t save them-

Fíli: Ya did yer best, mate. Thats what matters. Yer kin would be proud to know ya fought honourably

And this makes Boromir smile and feel a little bit at ease. Then the three spirits continue to follow the Orcs that held Merry and Pippin hostage all while Fíli and Kíli told Boromir about The Company and their adventure with Bilbo Baggins.

Edit: I did not know it was called a sansukh. Lol. I just started reading the fanfic and it finally made sense to me now. Lol.

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shirefantasies · 27 days

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Roots Running Deep- Balin x F!Witch!Reader

This is a request by @that-teen2003! I didn’t post it with the ask just to save some spoilers for y’all 😉 I realized a little late that I flip flopped one detail a bit but I hope you still like it 🙋🏻‍♀️ thank you so much for this request, it ended up being one of my favorite things I’ve made here ever 🥺

Warnings: suggestive jokes, canon typical violence, some angst

“Why do you keep venturing out into the woods, eh, brother? If I didn’t know any better I’d say it was some sort of tryst,” Dwalin caught his brother on his way out, punctuating his teasing with a wink.

“What exactly are you insinuating, then?” Balin crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, you can’t be collecting herbs every other day, for stars’ sake! But if you’re meeting out in the woods, she must be quite ugly! What is it, no teeth? Beard a different color than the rest of her hair? Or is it that she isn’t dwarrow at all?”

Involuntary Balin winced, bringing first the widening of eyes and then the quirking of triumphant lip to his younger sibling’s face. “By my beard, you must be joking! How tall is she? Must like the way she picks you up and-”

“For goodness’s sakes, would you stop that?” It was rare for the elder son of Fundin to snap, but when his love was threatened in any way it was as easy an expenditure as taking a breath. “We’ve done nothing of the sort. I’ll not have you taking shots at the honor of one so fair. This is no Blue Mountain barmaid we’re talking about.”

Chuckling deeply, Dwalin shook his mohawked head. "Well, how did you meet, anyway? Someone from Dale, no doubt?"

"If she was from Dale, I would meet her more often in Dale," Balin reasoned, lifting his favorite mahogany-toned coat from their shared home's hook and pulling it on by the sleeve, "if you must know, she has a cottage in the woods. I met her through Oin. She helped him secure a fine stock of herbs, and I accompanied him on his return there."

Uncharacteristically softening, Dwalin's voice came so quiet Balin practically had to cross the room again just to hear him. "Is she your One?"

If he could see himself, Balin was sure he'd have looked a fool the way the twinkle leapt into his eye and the smile arched across his face. But he cared little. "Aye," was all he had to say before disappearing out the door.

You awaited him at the brookside just as you promised, dressed in a gorgeous gown of green, the perfect shade to bring out what of your skin could be seem, and with flowers crowning your head. Long sleeves flowing, you waved a hand at the dark-haired dwarf with a grin bright as the sun. How could it be that a gift of the earth like this, all but a daughter of Yavanna, be his? Poetry, truly, as Balin remembered the depictions of the tall, dark woman in green standing aside his people’s fiery-haired creator as his wife. Would you, then, stand beside him someday? Could you?

Flowers sprung at your bare feet as you crossed into the grass, extending your arms to him. You breathed his name like a promise, a hand raising to caress his cheek in greeting. Leaning into the warmth of your touch, Balin lets your name fall from his lips, his hands falling to your waist to pull you against him.

"Doing some gardening, my love?" You smile down at him.

"Not today," he shakes his head, "just wanted to see you."

"Oh? I better find something more entertaining than my trees," you joked.

"What are you doing with your trees?"

"A bit of grafting. Trying to see how many fruits I can get on one tree."

"How many are you up to now?"

You grin. "Care for a climb?"

Balin's hair is soft beneath your fingers as they card through the sunkissed dark brown. He rests lightly against your right shoulder carefully as he can while maintaining balance on the branch you pulled yourselves onto. His eyelids flutter shut in contentment, but your heightened senses feel some unrest in him.

“You feel tense. What is wrong?”

At your words, you really feel the muscles of his back twinge against your chest. He inhales, exhales palpably.

“The king,” he replies quietly, “Thror’s love of gold, we fear, has corrupted his mind. His son and grandson have taken up many kingdom affairs already. It weighs heavy upon us all. I admire you. So unlike us in that regard. No need for the material possessions that drive us dwarves crazy. Just living here amongst your plants.”

“They are all I need,” you reply, giving pause as your hand traces down his cheek, “well, almost…”

With that, you gently rotate him, turning to connect your lips with his and feel him smile against you.

“You’ve been at that for hours, brother.”

"Because," Balin replies, tone patient and slow as he places another of the series of miniscule gems he cut, "it must be perfect. Wouldn't you want yours to be?"

"'Course. Just can hardly believe all this before you introduce her. She coming to live under the mountain?"

"That I do not know. It might not be good for her.” Balin sighs ruefully, voice going quiet. “Might not be good for anybody.”

Smoke. Fire. The sounds of screams as people pour from the mountain and the city at its foot alike. The dwarves have feared for the king, unaware of greater looming threats upon their horizon for who knows how long. And now the world has made good upon its punishment, raining shadow, flame, theft upon Erebor and undoing centuries of culture and livelihood. There is no use fighting, not with a fire drake, a beast with scales as shields and boundless conflagration at a single breath.

They need to run. Leave all that is held and loved behind if they wish to live, have any hope of preserving what once was. Memory, art, family, the beloved strength and endurance known to all dwarves. Reduced now to running or dying.

The prince himself had grabbed Balin, taken him by the arm and pulled him away from the flame just in time, yet they could still feel the searing heat in the air; still they perspire beneath it as they barrel into the king's hall. Thror hardly will part with a single piece of his massive fortune, so he must be dragged to safety beneath the arms of his kin as the great calamity Smaug makes straight for the royal hall.

Heart hammering, Balin drowns out all thought as his legs pump again and again, focus only on cover, safety. As the woods come into view, or as he should say what is left of them, the adrenaline haze begins its fade and the mental clouds part to reveal you. Were you safe? Were your trees, your wards, your... Shakily Balin reaches a hand into his pocket, entire body deflating with the exhale of relief he gives. The bead is there, safe and sound. But would you understand?

Mahal has surely blessed him, for as he wanders the woods, knowing the others will be after them soon, he finds a scrap of parchment, a pen with enough for the briefest message to leave at the foot of your tree, your glorious creation of many fruits.

The others all but yank him out of the woods and call him mad. The parchment, tear-stained and opened with your name, reads in Balin’s ever-steady hand:

We are so different, you and I, but fate is fate. Be it Mahal’s will or perhaps even Yavanna’s, I will be back for you. My heart breaks that I can’t braid it in myself, but if you’ll still wed me please wear this gift I made for you. I can only imagine how beautiful it shall look in your hair or wherever you choose to keep it.

I love you. I will never stop.

Balin

And with that he is forced to run into the chaos again, to witness his kinsman and the men he called neighbors flung like petty dolls by a great thrashing beast, bodies rent in two as though they are mere straw. Straw, however, does not bleed.

Mahal help them all.

The cracking of branches alerts you to the potential intruders, diverting your attention from the little patch of fire lilies you’ve been watering.

Fire lilies. Like little sunbursts they are, and yet still after all these years, several decades in fact, something about their intensity brought a recess of your mind back to the day of the drake’s attack. Smaug took everything from the people of Erebor, but from you as well.

Loneliness, after all, is the greatest curse of your long years, your many lives of men and women passing as seasons, all you know withering away like flowers in winter.

The love you had cultivated all those years ago, nourishing with every book Balin read you and every stroke of the bushy hair he somehow kept impossibly soft, every word of botany the dwarf learned for you and every healing herb you demonstrated and gifted to his people, is still in full bloom, though the sight of the lilies thorns your chest with questions that never quiet. Is Balin still alive? Had he even survived the attack, your head will evilly inquire, given his frequent proximity to the throne room, the great hall of kings that you know the dragon has taken to?

Guilt also. As the massacre took place, you had gone to the far edge of your woods, focusing every drop of magic in you upon sealing them, protecting them. Making them a safe place first anyone seeking refuge there. And yet you had seen no one, not a single survivor braving your grounds. So the loneliness drags on. What a waste of your power, you let yourself think sometimes, save for the wards that still remain to this day.

Train of your dress dragging at your feet, you keep walking past the lilies, sigh as you reenter the domain of your great steadfast trees.

You must confess that the tree you carved your sign, even if it was your child of seven fruits, in was of less significance to you before the day of blood and fire. Flame and screams and steel and all the things you understood least. That night is when you found it, after all: laying at its roots had been a hastily torn scrap scrawled with words that rent your heart and poured hours of tears from your eyes. And the bead, oh, the bead, possibly the last work of Balin’s hand. You could not bear anyone but your beloved braiding it onto you, thus it hangs from the thin chain about your neck, swinging above your heart. Yes, your tree of seven fruits had simply been an experiment then, and now and forever it is a memory.

Shaking the ache from your chest, you steady your feet and raise your hands, approaching the area from which the alerting sound had come. A young dwarf in brown bursts from the brush, screaming about a witch and aiming a slingshot at you. Shaking, he does not fire, his light brown eyes meeting the sadness in yours, the weight of memories and his words alike.

Your head snaps up as more heads pop forth, first a doting older one you can tell is the boy’s brother, then a more handsome golden-haired figure and one that has your mouth agape.

“Balin?”

You rush to him, feel his hands grope for yours and kneel down, crumpling into his chest. It is him, for no illusion can be so strong and cruel a ruse as to bear his scent, to hold you and run his thumb over the back of your hand in the same manner. His hair is white now, pure as snow, but the earnest, hopeful wisdom in his dark eyes has not aged a single year. The way he whispers your name like it answers his every prayer, even when his voice quavers, remains and it shatters your chest and builds it right back up.

“It must break your heart to see me like this.”

A single warm tear escapes your right eye as you shake your head, words failing you in favor of a smile half crumpled by your tears. In response you take his hands again, this time holding them for just a moment before you raise them to his bead upon your chain.

Finally your voice returns, shaky as it may be. “I never took it off. Not a single day. Your letter…”

This time it is Balin’s turn to part his lips in surprise. “You cannot mean that.”

“I can and I do. Balin, my life is nothing if it is spent alone. My heart was fractured that day, tucked unknowingly in your coat, but I knew not if I had buried it. Never again am I taking that chance. Let me have the honor of being bound to you. Please.”

Balin’s eyes dart thoughtfully between your joined hands, his stroking over yours once more, your eyes, the gaze that pours so much love into him it’s enough to make a grown dwarf cry, and finally your bead, the tiny emerald chips he’d set by hand so many years ago still glistening with all the love and care he’d placed into them. You hadn’t simply worn it, you’d cared for it.

Again he speaks your name, the finest music you’ve ever heard, and you cannot wait to hear him say it again and again. “You know that what I said is true. Still is. If you will have this old fool of course he’ll have you. May I?”

Nodding, you turn around, letting his aged but still quite nimble fingers undo your chain as you settle yourself onto the grass. The other dwarves swarm you, the younger and more indignant-looking ones quite literally buzzing around you. A taller one with tattoos across his shaven head holds them back with a stern look and the raise of a knuckle-dustered hand.

“Have you never listened to a word he said? A tale he told? My brother has been waiting far too long for this moment. Let him have it.”

At that, you broke completely, bursting into a near-delirious smile and interrupting your beloved’s work upon your hair with your lips upon his, half surprised by his passion and half blind to all but the taste of love upon your lips once more, white roses blooming in a circle around your seated forms.

Signs of love most pure.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit headcanons #thorin’s company x reader #balin #balin x reader #balin x female reader #female reader #witch reader #one shot #that-teen2003 #requested

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x-bluefire-heart-x · 5 months

Text

Dance at a Feast

Happy New Year everyone! The good thing about having two weeks off from work is that I am able to get some writing done! I'm trying to get drafts done for a lot of fics I have plans for, so I can have some things to post when I go back to work.

Also, please feel free to make requests! I have a list of prompts which is linked below, and a master list that has the fandoms and characters I write for. If there is someone and a something not listed that would like to make a request for, feel free to and I will let you know if I know enough about it to write for it. Also feel free to make requests for this verse!

This is another part in the Covered in Steam verse. A fluffy piece between female reader and Thorin, it is set after Covered in Steam.

Warnings: Talks of a sexual nature. Dain being disrespectful - nothing insane just not acknowledging the reader as the Queen *yes I think this should be a warning*

Tag list: @catt-leya @bunson-burner

Master List

Prompt List

Covered in Steam

You fiddled with the sleeves of your dress tugging them down before pulling them back up and then down again. You glanced at the mirror in Thorin’s, no your chamber you hadn’t slept in the chamber that was yours since that night. You wore a beautiful gown in the colours of the family of Durin, the blue almost matched that of your Kings eyes. Your hair had been left down showcasing the braids and beads that Thorin wove into it every morning. You were nervous, this was the first feast since you were behaving as a true married couple. And you didn’t want to do anything that would embarrass Thorin. Which was why you were concerned about the dress, the shoulders of the dress could sit normally or be pulled down to expose your shoulders and collarbones, and the plunging neckline was lower than what you normally wore but it worked the best with the necklace Thorin had gifted you with on the day you got married, and you hadn’t worn it yet.

“Sister?” you heard Dis’ voice call out from the sitting room next to the bedroom where Thorin received any guests that came to your chambers.

“In here!” you called back, shifting the bodice of the dress a little, unsure about the gauzy material that ran in panels down your ribs before forming into the princess style skirt.

“Oh my,” Dis whispered as she laid eyes on you. “I think you may very well kill my brother in that dress.”

“Is it too much?” you spun around eyes wide with concern as you smoothed down the billowing skirts. “It’s a normal style in my homeland but I know it isn’t overly common amongst the women here.”

“You look stunning my Queen,” Dis assured you as she came to stand in-front of you grabbing your hands. “You do not need to pretend as if the culture and norms of your homeland do not exist, my brother would not expect you to only dress as a dwarven woman.”

“I know he has told me as such, but I just don’t want to…embarrass him in-front of his court, especially since everything between us is still so new,” you nibbled your lower lip before yelping a little as Dis pinched your arm.

“You’ll ruin the makeup,”

“Can’t have that can I?” you laughed, your nerves slowly leaving you in your sister in laws presence. Something she has always managed to do.

“Now, come on,” Dis tugged on you before stopping for a moment. “Wait, you are missing something.” She let go of your hand to go back to your dressing table and lifted the small crown from its resting place to put it on your head. “There.”

You lifted your hand to gently touch the crown as Dis went back to tugging you out of your rooms and towards the main banquet hall. You were still not use to wearing a crown, as you and Thorin both only tended to wear them when you absolutely had to. Such as at a feast welcoming Thorin’s cousin Dain. You could hear the celebrations before the door even came into view, you smiled. Dwarrow truly knew how to throw a feast and celebration.

“Introducing her Highness Princess Dis and her Royal Majesty Queen y/n,” the herald at the doorway announced both you and Dis causing the court to become quiet as Thorin stood from his chair and walked around the table that housed the royals. His eyes burned with a fire as he took in your appearance, you could feel the eyes of every dwarf on you as the king walked towards you and Dis quickly left your side to greet her sons. You could only guess the dwarf sitting on Thorin’s left was his cousin Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. You briefly caught his eyes only to quickly break eye contact and focus on your husband. Dain had the same colour eyes as Thorin only his were cold and calculating, and you did not like the way he looked at you.

“My wife,” Thorin rumbled, this voice bouncing around the room. “You are a vision.”

You dropped into a small curtsy as your body warmed, your eyes locking onto his as you lifted your head back up. Thorin stepped closer to you to place a kiss upon your lips before gently taking your hand, guiding you to stand in-front of his cousin, who remained seated.

“Cousin, my wife, your Queen,” Thorin’s voice was hard as stone as he noticed the disrespect being shown to you. “Greet her.” Dain’s eyes narrowed before a friendly mask fell over his face as he stood and bowed low to you.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Your Majesty,” Dain’s voice didn’t sound overly pleased and you were concerned but you nodded back at him regardless, knowing now was not the time to raise concerns.

“And it is lovely to finally meet you Lord Dain, Thorin has spoken highly of you,” you responded voice soft, your eyes looking at a point over his shoulder as you didn’t want to look into his cold eyes again.

“Come my Queen, you must be hungry,” Thorin’s arm wrapped around your waist and led you away. You smiled gratefully up at Thorin raising on your toes to press your lips to his cheek in thanks. His arm squeezed you in kind, his eyes full of love as he stared down at you.

“Hello aunty mine,” Kili smiled up at you as you walked past. You grinned down at him, unable to resist messing up his hair. Kili pouted up at you as he tried to fix his hair, you dropped a kiss on his head in apology as you did the same to Fili as you walked past. Dis’s sons had been as welcoming as she had when you arrived, always smiling and including you, you were forever grateful for those three Durin’s.

“Aunty,” Fili smiled as you sat down beside him, Dis was in the middle of her two sons, who leaned around her oldest to smile at you. “Don’t worry about Dain. He’s a traditionalist but Uncle doesn’t pay any mind to those old dwarves.” Fili had lowered his voice and leant close to your side. His eyes, the same shade as his uncle was soft and kind as he looked at you. Your heart squeezed at his words.

“Thank you Fili,” you whispered back. “I will keep that in mind.”

“But, should he or any other dwarf look to cause you problems promise that you will let myself, my mother, Kili, Dwalin or Balin know. Of course Thorin should be your first choice but if you cannot find him, you also have us on your side,” Fili added squeezing your arm before letting go and focusing on his food.

You could hear the conversations going on around you as you picked at your food. You never ate much in-front of large crowds, but would always find a plate of food waiting for you in your chambers after a feast. You had always wondered who ensured the staff left it but never thought to investigate it too much.

“Are you alright love?” Thorin asked removing himself from the conversation with Dain to check on you. He had picked up on your added nerves after meeting Dain and wanted to do everything he could to be sure that you were fine.

“I am,” you nodded turning to give Thorin a smile but you could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t buy it. He leaned close enough to whisper into your ear.

“If I had known Dain would show such disrespect to my wife I would never had invited him here,” Thorin promised you. “Tell me at once if he ever does so again or makes you uncomfortable at all. Erebor if your home and you are the Queen.”

“You Durin’s and your need to protect,” you teased nudging your nose against his.

“Oh?”

“Fili just gave me a list of all the dwarves I can tell if Dain or any other dwarf causes me problems,” you explained. “It was pretty much you four and Dwalin and Balin.”

“Hmm,” Thorin hummed his eyes full of pride at your words. “Well, us Durin’s are fiercely protective of those we care about. And once we care for someone it is next to impossible to get rid of us. So I’m afraid my heart, you are stuck with me, and my sister and nephews.”

“Such an imposition that,” you laughed.

“You weren’t thinking I was an imposition this morning,” Thorin growled his eyes darkening as heat filled them. “With my tongue between your thighs.”

“Thorin,” you gasped in shock. “You can’t say things like that here.”

“I am the King,” Thorin shrugged kissing your lips and whispering his next words into your mouth. “I can say such things when I please. And no-one can hear us.”

You playfully glared at him about to say something back when Dain interrupted leaning around Thorin to gain his attention again, sending you a cold look before placing the mask back in place before Thorin could see. Thorin kissed you once more rounding on his cousin, you could hear the harshness in his tone as he spoke in dwarvish. You sipped at your wine, as music started to play, as it always does at a Dwarven feast. The boys beside you quickly stood up looking to find some partners to dance with, Kili raced off instantly looking for Ori. Fili however, hesitated, Dis had left seeking out Balin to discuss some matters.

“My Queen,” Fili said, his voice loud and pointed as he bowed low at his waist holding a hand out. “May I have a dance?”

You grinned up at Fili, standing up and reaching to take his hand but you were pulled tightly against a hard chest. Thorin’s scent surrounding you. Fili smirked, his eyes playfully challenging his uncle, as he continued to wait on your hand.

“My wife will be dancing with me first, nephew,” Thorin’s voice rumbled.

“I think Her Majesty can make that decision, Uncle,” Fili grinned.

“I am honoured Prince Fili,” you grinned, trying to keep your voice regal. “However, I would think you would prefer to seek out someone else to dance…and even maybe court?”

Fili’s face flushed bright red his eyes automatically going towards a dwarven woman that was standing off to the side near Bofur. The look in his eyes was similar to how Thorin would look at you and you knew that maybe you and Dis could do a little pushing.

“I mean…I can’t…” Fili stuttered in an uncommon show of nerves.

“Yes you can nephew,” you encouraged him stepping a little out of the circle of Thorin’s arms but he kept a hold of your hips. “I have seen that young woman look at you, in the same manner you look at her. You are a Durin, take the courage that all you Durin’s seem to possess in enough abundance to take on a Dragon and ask her to dance.”

You felt Thorin’s hands squeeze your hips and his lips pressed into your neck, you could feel the smile that tugged at them. You reached out to squeeze Fili’s hands, forcing his eyes back to yours. The red of his face had calmed down to a light pink.

“Right, yes, true,” Fili nodded.

“You are my heir Fili,” Thorin added reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “You can do this.”

Fili nodded once more before he turned around and strode towards the woman in question. He forced the Durin swagger into his steps as the two of you watched him in amusement. Thorin tugged you close again turning you around, you smiled up at him wrapping your arms around his neck.

“So, that dance?” you asked. “Better make good.”

“Come along then,” Thorin smirked. Pushing you backwards, you giggled turning around and taking hold of his hand and pulling him onto the space in the middle of the room that was used for dancing.

Thorin spun you around before tugging you close, wrapping his right arm around your waist and grabbing your right hand with his left, you placed your left hand on his shoulder. You allowed him to led you around the floor trusting him to keep you from backing into anyone. The tune was a fast past one, your skirt flying out every time he spun you around quickly. He grabbed both of your hips and lifted you up and turning the two of you before putting you back down and grabbing hold of your hand again to lead you around.

You giggled as your dress managed to hit Kili and Ori on your way past them, you threw an apology over Thorin’s shoulder causing the two young Dwarves to laugh. Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off of you, your eyes were bright with happiness and you had not stopped laughing and smiling since Fili had first asked you for a dance. Your face was flush from your wine and from the dancing, you had danced to two fast paced songs before a slow paced song started to play. Thorin wrapped both his arms around your waist pulling you as close to him as he could get you. You looped your arms around his neck, using one of your hands to tilt his head down, he grinned as he rested his forehead against yours and swayed the two of you in time with music.

“You truly do look beautiful tonight, my Lady,” Thorin whispered. “Seeing you in my colours, I wish to take you from this hall and feast on something else entirely.”

“My King, was this morning and last night not enough?” you asked, stroking the back of his neck, his thick hair covering your movements.

“I will never have enough of you,” Thorin answered. “I will never have enough of your taste, of your body, of you. I will always want you in my arms.”

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ironmandeficiency · 11 months

Text

silly king

pairing: thorin oakenshield / half-elf!reader

word count: 1025

summary: silence is nigh but unobtainable with your joining of the company

req: Can I ask for 🎶 do doo do do 🎶 "FUCK!" with thorin oakenshield pls?

a/n: giving a MASSIVE hug to the darling and stupendous @nicole-lightfoot who beta’d this for me & helped me with writing the ending

none of the company believed they could find someone in all of arda that spoke as loud as sugar-rushed kíli or sang as cheerfully as bofur deep in his ale

you proved this assumption very wrong very quickly, loathing the silence that made you feel like your head was dipped in molasses

there was always some form of song flowing from your lips when your hands were too full to tap them to whatever song you’re hearing in your head, every footfall against the earth synchronized to the same tune (sometimes you skipped as you sang, hummed, or whistled, much to the disbelief of the others)

your joining of the company happened in rivendell. as a half-elf, there was only so much respite you could find in the last homely house, surrounded by what many (somewhat accurately) believed to be the uptight half of your bloodline. it was safe, yet stifling, and you felt akin to a caged bird yearning for the open sky

the presence of a half-elf in their company didn’t bother as many of the dwarrow as you believed it would. your jovial disposition rubbed off on them quickly, and soon you were joining several of them in a modified chorus of ‘that’s what bilbo baggins hates’ to coincide with more recent events of the quest

bilbo took the playful jabs with a grin, getting small bits of payback by “accidentally” knocking members of the company in the ankle with the walking stick you procured for him

bofur, nori, and the princes took to using you as a shield when they feared the hobbit was about to strike, laughter all around

despite the grim nature of what lay ahead of the company, you’d never had so much fun. it’s why you found such joy in your new companions, your new friends, because that’s what they were

you ignored the tense glances from the king under the mountain and his stalwart captain during these moments. there were vague ideas to be had of why the two royals saw you as a liability at best and a threat at worst, and many of them pertained to your blood

logic (and well-meaning princes) reminded them early on that you were of neither faction that caused such strife for the dwarves of erebor, and had proven yourself as a loyal member of the company ten times over

the distrust ended, but you could still tell they were wary of you even on a good day

in the beginning, your charming disposition and lackadaisical attitude had thorin seething. every smile and laugh and song boiled the blood in his veins. did you not take this quest seriously? was he saddled with a jingling fool of an elf by lord elrond as a plot against his mission?

now, months later, watching you dance with the princes in beorn’s fields, he realized just how faulty those thoughts were

kíli was riding fíli’s shoulders while you held his hands, the three of you playing merrily around to bofur and nori’s raunchy tune

thorin was sitting on a stump nearby when he heard your voice across the field, your laughter joining the silly little ditty

thorin knew better than to let himself grow distracted while cleaning his blades, but he was so lost in your merriment and sweet-sounding do-doos that he didn’t notice his hand moving wrong before it was too late

“FUCK!!”

his exclamation scared some of the local fauna away and startled several members of his company. fíli whipped around so fast to check on thorin that he forgot his brother was on his shoulders until he suddenly wasn’t, and the two princes found themselves toppled in the grass in a true dwarfling pile

you were on your knees in front of thorin before he could fully register the pain and embarrassment of slicing his finger on his own blade. your nimble hands held his wounded one gently, tending to the cut with precision

you gently cleaned his ill-gotten wound while he growled with all the dignity of a wet cat. “oh you silly king, just let me take care of you”

“this is all your doing.” you smiled at his facade, knowing that his grumpiness wasn’t actual malice and he was just frustrated at his own folly

you felt his gaze on your head while you threaded the needle. “tell me, my king, how exactly is this my fault?” the words were an almost teasing whisper, a small attempt to goad him into better spirits once again

in the distance, you could hear various members of the company whispering amongst themselves like a group of gossiping old biddies, and it took strong effort to not cackle in thorin’s face. he was already iffy about you tending to his little scratch, you didn’t want to jeopardize what pride he had left by calling attention to his nattering company

the small huff of exasperation that escaped him would have been mistaken for a wince by someone who didn’t know him. “you’re distracting. it’s difficult to get things done when you jaunt around with your heart on your sleeve and a song on your lips. you weren’t made for battle, nor for the hardships of the world, so i have to keep an eye on you lest you fall victim to your own nature.”

when thorin noticed you smiling at his chiding, he was not amused. this was exactly his point! you didn’t take his warnings seriously, which attested to how desperately you needed to heed them.

“thank you for your concern, thorin. it’s touching. but you must know by now that i don’t ‘jaunt around’ anyone i don’t feel safe with, i have at least a few skills in self-preservation, you know.” your voice was soft as you finished the last suture, securely wrapping the wound and taking a risk by placing a small kiss atop the bandages

he stared at you speechless, mouth gaping like a fish and cheeks ruddy. you give him a smile as you walk away, feeling every moment his eyes stayed on your back and hearing his personal scolding about keeping his head straight around you

#thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield has taken over my thoughts #thorin durin #the hobbit reader insert #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield imagine

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itsfeckinwimdy · 1 year

Text

Of Feelings And Fancy

Fili x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her.

Summary: Balin and the reader just being sort of found family feels. With: "You're plotting something." "What makes you say that?" "You're always plotting something."

Word Count: 567 words

Warnings: n/a

LOTR + TH Masterlist

Published: 12/02/2023

“You’re plotting something.”

The ranger paused in her movements, lowering the spoonful back into the bowl. She looked up at the older dwarf sitting across the fire from her before she squinted her eyes at him.

“What makes you say that?” she replied back, keeping the tone of her voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to lead him on in any way, shape, or form.

Balin raised his eyebrows in disbelief as if to say that he didn't believe her, to which he was within his rights to do so and was as true as the sun rising in the east each morning. That was the only thing she hated about the old man. His ability to tell whenever she was up to something.

Or maybe it was because she was terrible at keeping secrets.

"You’re always plotting something," Balin spoke back, eating another mouthful of food before speaking again, "I don't suppose it has anything to do with leaving me here in favour of your gold hair-prince by chance?"

She choked on the food causing herself to swallow it to breathe again. Although she was used to the teasing from Kili and other dwarrow she knew, it hadn't occurred to her that she would face the same from Balin. But then again, it was Balin.

"You do understand why you couldn't travel with him?"

The pointed look he gave her was all she need to know.

It was a topic that came up constantly surrounding her betrothal to Fili. A lot of the dwarves in the mountain believed that their relationship was moving too fast, especially for the young people they were. Dis had tried to advocate for them and had Balin at the time, knowing what it was like when you met your one, but lots of the older traditional dwarrow couldn't be budged on their opinions. And so it meant the two had to be chaperoned a lot more than they previously were.

So when it came to the journey to Hobbiton, she wasn't surprised when it was requested she travels with Balin rather than unchaperoned with the two Durin brothers.

The white-haired dwarf saw how she deflated in on herself, subconsciously making herself appear smaller as thoughts plagued her mind. Blain internally sighed. It hadn't been his intent to cause her any pain or sorrow, so the only thing he supposed he should offer the lass was comfort and the thoughts of what was to come.

He rose from the ground, trudging over to her side of the campfire and sitting ever so graceless next to her.

"Just think, in a few days, you'll be able to see him again," he teased, "and to think he'll be glad to see you still have that dagger of his."

She considered his words carefully, trying not to blush but regrettably failing at the mention of the dagger Fili had gifted her. It was part of his courting gift to her, alongside the braid in her hair that she knew he would be itching to re-do upon seeing her again.

She smiled, remembering the day he gifted them to her as if it was yesterday. The way Fili's eyes shone with the love he held for her; how fingers carefully caressed through her hair, braiding strands together and clasping a bead into the end.

Her heart swelled at the thought of Fili doing that again.

#fili x reader #fili durin x reader #fili imagine #fili fanfic #fili fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #pronouns: she/her #fic: drabble/imagine #tree writes lotr + th fics

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lemonsprite · 6 months

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𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐥’𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 || 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

Summary: Mahal has blessed Gimli and Legolas with a gift

Word count:

Warnings: none! All fluff :)

A/N: side note I love the headcanon that hobbits are like cabbage patch kids and that dwarves are like those Nat Geo archeology kits

“A rock?” Asked Legolas, raising an eyebrow at the uneven stone in his hands. The elf looked down at Gimli with confusion.

“Nay.” The dwarf shook his head, smiling, and took the stone (practically boulder) from Legolas’ hands.

“A rock from Mahal.”

Legolas was silent, staring at Gimli as if he was insane.

“And what does that mean?”

The dwarf’s face went as red as his hair, his eyes looking everywhere but Legolas. The rock was so big Gimli’s hands could hardly cradle it and Legolas couldn’t help but be intrigued by the strange stone. It was lumpy and sharp as if the rock had just been chipped from the mountainside and scraped the palms of Legolas’ smooth hands.

“You don’t know much about dwarven culture, yes?”

Legolas nodded his head suspiciously, eyeing the stone.

“Well, when Mahal made us in the forges he created a second one for each of us, an eternal partner, our one.”

The elven prince stood silently in agreement. After all, he was quite familiar with at the very least, this ideal. His father, Thranduil, had complained more than once about that dwarven prince and Tauriel.

“Well.” Gimli began once more, one of his gruff hands fiddling nervously with the braids of his beard. “Once you have met your one and Mahal has deemed you ready you are to be gifted a child.”

“A child…” Legolas thought aloud, his eyes narrowing in thought at the dwarf next to him. “You mean to tell me that stone…”

“Is an infant.” Gimli finished for the elf, holding the rock closer to his chest. “It is how we Khazâd are born.”

Legolas was silent, processing everything Gimli had just revealed.

“But…” He began, furrowing his brow in confusion. “That would mean you’d have found your one, would it not?”

If possible, Gimli’s face turned even redder, his eyes frantically searching the ground beneath Legolas’ face so as to not look him in the eyes.

“Aye.”

Legolas froze, Gimli’s confirmation suddenly causing his stomach to sink, Legolas stuck now with the undeniable evidence that he’d have to be sharing Gimli with someone else.

He quickly dispelled these thoughts. Legolas placed his hand tenderly on the other's shoulder, throwing a gentle smile on his face before his friend beside him could even notice anything off.

“Why Gimli, that's… Great.” The dwarf practically flushed at Legolas’ words, caressing his thumb against the rough exterior of the stone.

“Who is she?”

Gimli froze, staring perplexed at Legolas.

“What do you mean she?” He asked, his gruff voice filled with surprise.

“Your one.” Explained the elf. ‘Why was Gimli so confused?’

Gimli stared at him as if he’d punched the dwarf right between his eyes. “My dear friend-” He sighed, exasperated, running a hand down his face. “You are my one.”

Legolas felt as if the Valar themselves had just descended from above, blood rushing to his face faster than he could string a bow. The elf was silent, wanting to say so many things at once yet nothing came.

Gimli frowned, holding the rock in his arms tighter. “I understand if you do not feel the same.” He sighed heavily. “after all, you are an elf-”

Before the dwarrow could finish his sentence Legolas was upon him like a stork to bird seed. He engulfed Gimli in a hug that would crush a mortal man.

“The Rock Legolas!” Gimli exclaimed, buried in the elven princes arms.

Legolas released him, holding Gimli an arms length away. He nodded his head vigorously, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his father telling him off.

“Apologizes… I got away from myself… I just…” Legolas trailed off, a small giddy smile crossing his lips. He could not believe the news he was hearing. Gimli was his, he was Gimli’s. They were meant for each other… after all according to the dwarves they were fated, it was destined by the gods.

Gimli looked tenderly up at Legolas, cradling the rock in his arms.

“Aye… you… do feel the same yes?” He asked, searching the Elves face for confirmation.

“Very…! A child Gimli!” He exclaimed, and the dwarf had never seen Legolas so joyous. “Our child!”

Legolas grabbed Gimli’s hands so that both were now holding the stone and smiled brightly down at the dwarf. His hands completely swallowed Legolas’, Gimli’s palms scarred and calloused from years spent in the forage.

“Meleth nîn.” Said Legolas quietly. “Thalion nîn, Melethron nîn.”

Gimli smiled, his ears picking up on what little he knew of the Sindarin language.

“One of these days I must teach you Khuzdul.” He said, looking down at the small boulder cradled in their hands. “Your elvish language is to sweet.”

“My word say nothing but the truth.” Said Legolas tenderly. “I’ve waited long for a moment like this.”

He leaned his head down as best he could, touching his forehead to Gimli’s the rock laid dormant between them.

Jojo try not to mischaracterize Legolas challenge (impossible)

#fanfic #fanfiction #lord of the rings #the hobbit #literature #gimli x legolas #gimli son of gloin #gimli #gimleaf #legolas #lotr #the lord of the rings #drabbles #kid fic

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conkers-thecosy · 9 months

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Hi guys!

So, I hear it's Fanfic Writers' Appreciation Day, and as someone who has enjoyed a LOT of Bagginshield fanfiction this year, I thought it would be nice to share some recommendations!

These are just a few of my personal favourites, feel free to share your own!

If I could Give My Breath Away (I Would) by StupidFatPenguin

Thorin loses his memory and quite forgets that the hobbit by his bedside whom he wishes to court and marry is already his husband. Everyone else find this hilarious.

Safe and Distant by Lindzzz

Bilbo never bothers denying that he is a slight, little bit, probably infatuated with Thorin. It’s not something that bothers him. Really. He’s pretty sure that everyone very likely has a little flutter in their chest for the dwarf. He’s something grand and unattainable. And it’s really much safer if it stays that way.

Travelling Songs to Fall In Love To by galehautstomb

When Thorin started to sing, Bilbo had to sit down. It was all he could do not to put his head in his hands. He knew at that moment, that he would be going on this journey, but he was not brave enough yet to voice it.

Unspoken Choice by snarkymonkey

In the wake of war and all else, Bilbo decides he needs to do something for Thorin that isn't related to dragons or gold or anything else. Nothing simpler than the offer of a trim, right?

Best To Move Forward by sharkbait33

“Thorin,” he greeted, a small smile forming on his lips. Thorin did not smile, though his expression softened just a bit. “Master Baggins.” The professionalism made Bilbo flinch, his expression falling, and the hobbit dropped his gaze to the floor. Though he should have expected this, should not have such heartache faced with the truth, he had been quite hopeful. “Bilbo.” The dwarf’s tone surprised him, so quiet and gentle, if that was even possible. Two large hands came into view, one cradling Bilbo’s cheek, the other finding a place beneath his chin, using two fingers to tilt his face up so their eyes met. “Bilbo,” Thorin repeated, and this time there was a sad smile gracing his features, small, but still there. “I am truly, very sorry for all the hurt I have caused you.”

As Is The Custom by ever_yours

After everything, Bilbo becomes an integral part of castle workings—and honestly, there’s not much waiting for him back at the Shire. So he stays, and decides to learn more about dwarrow culture while he’s at it. As it turns out, dwarf kings are significantly more affectionate than he’d expect...

A Moment When by elementalist

All those precious moments when a look, a touch, a smile, all come crashing together into a single, inescapable truth.

Call You Home by northerntrash

In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction

‘We may have won the battle, but I fear the war with winter is just beginning.’ The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place.

I Love You Most (but I'm not worthy) by rowanguerrin

Something desperate and keening bade him look once more at the Thief— at Bilbo— and, before he could even think of doing anything else, his eyes shifted to the body pinned down before him. Bilbo looked up at him with wide, wide eyes, his lips parted as he breathed heavily, afraid and— And sad, so so sad, as if it were not his body Thorin was about to throw over the ramparts but his heart instead.

Eye for Eye and Tooth for Tooth by Chrononautical

Bilbo is kidnapped by dwarves looking to hurt the king. Though he manages to escape, he is badly injured and no longer feels safe in Erebor. Thorin, furious at the harm done to his burglar, seeks vengeance. Unfortunately, all he really wants is to find a way to make Bilbo comfortable at his side once again, and that is more difficult.

The Road Delivered Us Home by Keelywolfe

In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

A Passion For Mushrooms by Chrononautical

There are many trials for a hobbit attempting to make a life among dwarves. A hobbit wants a garden. A hobbit wants to eat regular meals. A hobbit wants friends, good books, and comfortable chairs. Bilbo does his best to carve out a little hobbit life for himself in the mountain. If only there were not one final obstacle. For a hobbit heart wants love, and among dwarves that is a sticky subject.

Something Blue by lapin

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Cold Sheets by plotweaver

Thorin is angry when Bilbo's new duties as Master of Agriculture for Erebor make him bring his work home.

Dragonhearted by LordOfTheRazzles

The grandson of a greedy king and his dwarvish companions fall under the curse of literal dragon sickness - at least for Thorin. Bestowed by Smaug the Terrible, an enchanter whose other form is also that of a dragon, the vilest of fire drakes from the north, is seeking riches at the end of a hard trial for the prince of Erebor. The decades roll by and the curse shows no sign of lifting, for Thorin was tasked with proving that his heart was worth saving and that he would not be corrupted by gold lust like his grandfather. All seems bleak until the arrival of one quirky little hobbit of the Shire with his mother’s stubborn streak and his father’s gentility. Bilbo Baggins, a prisoner of this draconic beast, soon begins to show Thorin just what a heart worth saving feels like.

The Letter by objectlesson

Once Bilbo arrives in the haunted stillness of Bag End, his chest aches to realize the house does not feel like a home anymore. He at first chalks it up to having been empty: to a year of disuse, to odd scents filtering their way in and settling like cobwebs in the absence of his usual routine, tea and baking and the drying of herbs. Perhaps, once he begins these things again, it will not feel so cavernous, so lonely, so strangely and painfully bare, like a tree stripped of its leaves come winter. But weeks pass, and nothing changes. So maybe it’s not the emptiness, but the fact (which he is trying his very hardest to dutifully ignore) that he left his heart behind to crystalize in the caverns of the Lonely Mountain.

The Things You See In The Market by GothicMama

Krelven just wants to explore the market on his day off. But instead he gets thrown for multiple loops when he sees two extremely familiar faces.

You Should Be Safe With Me by fantasyinallforms

Thorin is haunted by the guilt of almost losing Bilbo in the battle of the five armies. As Bilbo settles in the mountain, many are enamored with the new Hobbit, and some wish him harm. How will Thorin react to Bilbo's newfound attention or the threats to his life? Is it even safe for the hobbit to stay within the mountain?

Songs in the Dark by leoandlancer

After the resolution of the Battle of Five Armies and the beginning of the restoration of Erebor, Thorin and Bilbo are still carefully, and respectfully, distant to each other. Each certain the other wants nothing to do with them after the betrayals they've committed. However, trapped by a cave-in while exploring the lower halls, Thorin and Bilbo are suddenly, and unavoidably thrown together and slowly they begin to sort things out.

#bagginshield #fanfiction #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #thilbo #fanfic writers appreciation day

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boromorous · 2 years

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OMG YOUR ART IS GORGEOUS !!! Its so charming and full of life.

Question, what do You think dwarrows opinions on like bilbo/hobbits with beards would be? I can just imagine bilbo during the Journey taking a razón to shave any scruff but when they loose their bags he just gets full "proper dwarf" beard. BILBO WITH A BIGGER BEARD THAN THORIN LMAO

thank you!! and LMAO I LOVE THIS IDEA!! and i think the dwarves would be ALL for it!!

bilbo on the other hand i think not haha, i feel like in hobbit society it would be VERY improper to walk around all UNSHAVEN, so in bilbo's eyes he goes from a from proper gentlehobbit to a scrungly little guy

also i couldnt help myself from drawing thorin and bilbo flustering each other XD

#ask #thank u for the ask!! u guys have the best ideas #bagginshield #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins

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luna-redamancy · 1 year

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Hey cutie 🥰 I know you probably have 8000 requests rn BUT I adore you and your writing and was wondering if you would be interested in a lil Thorin x wife!reader fluff? Maybe they’re babysitting young Fili and Kili and discussing having one of their own but Thorin’s stubborn and won’t allow it until they reclaim Erebor 👀

It's been a million years- I hope you enjoy:

“And….Up!” You cheered as you scooped Fili from off the ground, swinging him up in your arms and into the air, holding him up and spinning around. Fili’s face lit up as the young dwarrow erupted into giggles, eyes shutting in glee as you spun him around the sitting room.

“Ups!” Kili tugged on Thorin’s pant leg, no longer amused by the book that his uncle was originally reading him, now demanding to have the same fun as his brother.

“Ups!!” The small dwarrow spoke more urgently, getting upset with the lack of quick response by Thorin.

“Aye, aye, I heard you,” Thorin chuckled, setting the book back on the shelf before Kili was also scooped into the air, the two boys being swung around.

“Down we go,” You spoke dramatically as you dropped your arms so Fili swung low to the ground, “And up!” You cheered, laughs coming out of you as the giggles of Fili became infectious.

“And back to aunty!” You pulled him close to your chest, Fili clinging to your neck as you spun him close to you, hugging him against your form. After a few minutes of spinning and maneuvering the young dwarrows, you and Thorin brought the boys to the dining table.

“Lunch?” You asked them, your grin seeming permanent as Fili fought to stay in your arms, but eventually dropped his clingy behavior in favor of playing with a wooden toy sitting on the table from earlier play time.

“‘Unch!” Kili echoed, nodding feverishly with wide eyes.

“Pumpkin soup?”

“Umpkin-oop!” He cheered, warming your heart as you pressed a kiss to both their foreheads before exiting into the kitchen.

After lunch had ended, the boys succumbed to their drowsiness, laying on the floor together with blankies and their stuffed animals curled into their arms.

Sitting on Thorin’s lap in the big armchair by the fireplace, you sighed happily as Kili rolled onto his tummy and pushed his stuffed bear against his face.

“You know,” You spoke softly as to not wake the boys, hand drifting to your belly, “Moments like these make me yearn for one of our own,” You leaned your head against Thorin’s shoulder as he absentmindedly rubbed your thigh.

“Aye,” He agreed, feeling soft as his two nephews slumbered. “Not now, but one day,” Thorin said almost absentmindedly.

“One day?” You sounded confused, knowing the two of you were in your prime now. Truly, if you had it your way the two of you would already have had a child. Already being married for over two years.

“I wish for my child to grow up in the same halls I did,” Thorin spoke simply, imagining his own little dwarrow babe crawling on the smooth stone floors, growing into a young adult shadowing him to take over the throne one day.

“Thorin,” You sighed, already have argued many times over trying to reclaim Erebor, especially after seeing his grief of losing his family during the attempted reclamation of Moria.

“Âzyungel,” Thorin replied, ever the stubborn one as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Our lives in the Blue Mountains are temporary, I do not want to uplift our child’s sense of stability half-way into their upbringing and thrust them into something foreign,” Thorin reaffirmed his reasoning.

Sighing through your nose, you nodded, leaving Thorin’s lap in favor of going to Kili, adjusting the blanket over his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his hairline.

“Lukhudel, please do not be upset,” Thorin could read you like a book as you moved to collect the toys up and put them back in their respective places.

“I’m not upset,” You whispered to him over your shoulder, freezing in your movement when you heard Fili shuffle to settle into a similar position like his brother.

“I’m just disappointed, there’s a difference.” You murmured, knowing if Thorin had his mind set on something, not even Mahal could change his mind.

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