Dear Lady Thespiritoflife,
It is a great honour to be able to write to you. I hope my letter finds you in great spirits. After a great deal of thinking, I have prepared a gift for you that you may find to your liking.
🎁 Since you seem to like to be active, I invite you to visit Rhovanion in the summer. I would be more than happy to be able to take you on an excursion around the Long Lake in search of the best picnic places — with a basket filled with victuals prepared by Bombur himself.
🎁 These two Dwarves that appeared at the doorstep with my letter are my best carpenters and they will build the perfect reading nook for you in your home according to your wishes, including a library. Yes, the crate they brought with them contains several books straight from my library that you may find interesting.
🎁 The box of cookies attached to this letter is also an invitation for a baking weekend in Erebor. Bombur is eager to exchange his best recipes with you and then bake together with you and I am even more eager to eat everything you prepare!
Happy winter days and may the New Year be a merry one!
𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷,
thank you very for writing me this letter. You have no idea how much it made me happy! I appreciate it so much.
That moodboard is so gorgeous, I truly love it.
And I would love to go to Rhovanion! That excursion around Long Lakes sounds really beautiful and exciting.
Reading nook? That's amazing, I can't believe it! You thought of everything!! Thanks so much. I can not wait to see it!
Mmm, box of cookies! They taste really good and yummy! And I am honoured to learn from master himself - Bombur how to bake. I am so excited. Of course, I accept your invitation, all your invitations. Can not wait to see you, Bombur and all these beautiful places. Thank you once again.
Happy winter days and happy New Year 2023 to you too, dear Thorin! I hope it will be good year for you. Don't forget to take care.
With love
𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓸𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮.
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thinking about laying beside simon on the bed, your head resting on his shoulder while his hands held a book that you had gifted him, his eyes fixed on the text.
your fingers absentmindedly traced over the scars on his chest, letting your soft fingertips draw over the rough sunken skin of the healed gashes — a painful story written in each of them. and you wanted to read it all, read every scar and cut, kiss all of it, absorb it so you could share it with him — a connection only you’d ever have with him.
your fingers slowly found their way to his stomach, hand caressing the muscles that had softened up ever since he had come home from deployment, your eyes noticing the stretch marks starting on the sides of his tummy that you adored so much. pale lines adorning his skin, urging you to probe them too, your hand touching him so gently — an angel soothing a wounded soldier.
simon is gorgeous, too gorgeous. he never seemingly saw it the way you did. “you’re so pretty…” you lazily whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder.
you were the warmth his cold heart sought, the fire that melted him, the sun that gave his moon the light he never thought he’d see. he needed you in the way a man needed a god, in a way a plant yearned for water. and you were happy to give it all to him, everything for your sweet simon.
“you tryin’ to tickle me, love?” his gruff voice broke you out of your trance, your eyes finding his which were no longer looking at the book, an intrigued grin playing on his lips that made you giggle heartedly and give his stomach some pats.
“maybe.”
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