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#snowglobe and hard reset
letpaimonbitepeople · 9 months
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Childe headcanons pt 2
they're yoinked from my fic, so they're written a certain way
featuring PTSD, selective self-awareness mixed with self-contradiction, mild alcohol use, referenced underage drinking, guesses about Snezhnaya based on Russian culture, and shippy simping for the Traveler (I unspecified which Traveler, so you can imagine it's Lumine or Aether)
(btw I'm not about to donutsteel any of this lol, by all means use the ideas if you like them!)
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He has no hangups about being naked in front of [people], provided they don't have an issue with it. Nudity is relatively normalized in Snezhnaya thanks to ice swimming and the banya.
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Smiling, he drops a sashimi slice and crouches slowly so as not to startle the cat. Not that the cat was at all hesitant about sitting on his shoe this morning! He just feels, again, like his presence should intimidate the cat as much as it intimidates Fatui subordinates. Again, he reminds himself that animals just don't know any better. For that, he counts himself lucky.
[The cat] eats the second piece of sashimi from his hand. The third, too, and when he ventures to pet the bony arch of its back, it doesn't even flinch.
Why am I bothering with this?... This has nothing to do with getting stronger. I have this precious time away from the bank to do whatever I want, and this is how I'm spending it?
He searches for an excuse. He tries to glue together some prattle about an obligation for a warrior to respect the natural hunters of the world and learn from their primal pursuit of survival. It doesn't sound convincing even in his head.
The unavoidable truth is that this is what he wants to be doing right now.
It's hard to accept that. (Never mind that he often does things that have nothing to do with his ultimate goal.) It somehow makes him aware of how much he's checking that his guard is up: listening to the sounds around him, watching the shadows in his peripheral vision in case a new shadow looms in the lanternlight behind him, holding in mind the fastest ways out of this area, inventorying the advantages and disadvantages he currently has... That's reassuring on the one hand but on the other hand it reminds him why he ought to be more vigilant. He's not the strongest warrior in the world yet, and the necessity of his own lies today was proof that that weakness remains a liability despite how far he's already risen.
What he would call situational awareness submerges him gradually, then all at once. He gladly sinks.
He examines every sound and everything he can see, one by one, cataloguing what is normal so that he'll notice if anything changes. Rehearses in his mind his best options for responding to an attack if one came right now. He breathes slow and shallow to be silent—something he's more practiced at than anyone would expect—and stills his body, so that he might go unnoticed, be overlooked, and gain the element of surprise.
He measures some of the information around him by his heartbeats. They're accelerated but steady. Now that nearly all possibilities of being caught off guard have been prepared for, he feels a meditative serenity. His heart is only beating fast because it, too, has to be ready.
Something changes. All of his attention instantly focuses on it. Threat? No, it was already there and it's just a cat. It could be eliminated in no more than one second with minimal risk. Safe either way. Soft fuzz nuzzling his hand, whiskers tickling, sandpaper tongue. Safe.
Childe emerges from the familiar state. He's always more tired after than before, yet girded with clarity and reassured. Sometimes it's like a reset. Like turning over a snowglobe: the fake snow whirls, falls, and then settles once more. Usually it lasts much longer when he's alone, though. He looks down at the cat licking his hand.
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He visits the Amenoma bladesmithy and, merely via open interest and enthusiasm, obtains a long talk from the forge master on Inazuman styles of making, testing, and wielding blades. He doesn't mention to the old smith that he once made a Hydro copy of a katana shown to him by another Fatuus, and that he can now guess the origins of that katana.
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His next stop is Yae Publishing. In his search for books to send home, he takes his time browsing and skimming, making sure his younger siblings won't receive any unpleasant surprises. No stories where the dog dies. Who does that in a book for children? Probably someone like Arlecchino, he grouses.
Finding perfect gifts for his family is a point of principle and pride. Nothing ill-considered can be allowed to reach their hands. As long as he has any agency in the matter, he will not disappoint the last three people he hasn't yet. Someday he will, of course: someday his younger brothers and sister will learn he's been lying to them. Following that day, their love and their joyful greetings will wither, replaced by yet more wary glances and awkward silences whenever he visits. But until then...
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I just want to...get my hands on [the Traveler]. If I attained the level of competence that would allow me to disarm [them], and the fight was reduced to its simplest form, testing the training of our bodies and minds against one another directly by just wrestling and grappling... That would be quite something, wouldn't it. Though [they]'d have to disarm me as well and I'm not sure that's even possible. Ohh but if anyone could do it it'd be [them]. [They]'d have to get my Vision and my Delusion. [They]'d have to get through every form of defense I have.
Eagerly he tries to imagine how it could be done. Anticipating his own weaknesses (in combat) and the possible exploitations of them (in combat) is so important that both meanings of 'anticipating' are applicable.
But he keeps getting sidetracked by an image of [the Traveler] pinning him to the ground. Weaponless, Visionless, Delusionless, too spent to risk transforming. Helpless. Maybe [the Traveler] would use Geo to pin him. There is nothing Childe can snatch away from [the Traveler] that would prevent [them] from using the elements.
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The Traveler never introduced [themself] to Childe, nor [were they] introduced by Paimon. When Childe intercepted [them] fleeing the Millelith, he already knew [their] name from intel and he used it without hesitation. There was no time for the Traveler and Paimon to question it. Later, on a boat to Snezhnaya to report back after all was said and done, he decided he would never again address [them] by name unless and until he earned that right by surpassing [them].
He'd slipped up once, sort of, when thanking the Traveler for seeing Teucer safely through Liyue. But it was, as he said, his sincerest thanks, so it didn't feel right to avoid [their] name like usual.
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Maybe how Xinyan called him 'brother' and he instantly started thinking of her like a sister? Hey, he lied to her just like he lies to his real siblings. His feeling of verisimilitude on that point isn't lessened by the fact Paimon started the lie this time. He went along with it and never really corrected it. Xinyan still thinks he's an adventurer from Mondstadt who had nothing whatsoever to do with her home city nearly getting destroyed.
Let it never be said, by me, that battle is the only thing I'm great at. I'm also great at going along with other people's plans, heh. And that's fine. It gets me into the center of chaos. Whether I'm a pawn in a game, an actor in a play, or simply a weapon, it all serves my goals in the end. That's the truth and it always puts him at ease.
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Ahh, who do I think I'm kidding here. I've always preached a far greater clarity of purpose than I've practiced... If any of this is owed to the Onmyou Chamber, it's that the bliss of those six days of uncommon purity allowed me to forget that. To forget one's own fallibility is...the kind of indulgence I really can't afford.
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He's very pleased with himself for setting up this surprise dinner. But more than that, in the brief moment between hearing the Traveler's voice and seeing [them], he's filled with a joy the likes of which he rarely finds outside of battle. Returning was the right idea, his heart assures him, and any possible objection from any other quarter is drowned in the flood of that joy.
[...]
And there's that feeling Childe got before when the Traveler smiled at him and because of him. He'd all but forgotten what it felt like. With this warmth swelling in his chest, he can't understand how he could ever forget. Only a few days and he could no longer recall it the way it really was? That doesn't seem right. But here it is, and there [they are]. "Of course!" he replies, performing confidence without even trying. It comes naturally—more so than usual—with his mood being so elevated and his doubts vanishing into the distance.
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[...] and Xingqiu's name is ringing a bell. Cogs rotate in Childe's mind while he checks the bread and speaks over his shoulder.
[...]
Intel reports? No, business papers... Childe is content to take a rain check on sparring. "It wasn't necessarily tomorrow I had in mind anyway, and certainly not tonight," he says cheerfully. ...Ah! The Feiyun Commerce Guild. Xingqiu is...one of the heirs in the clan that heads it? Yes. Inevitably they've had interactions with the Bank. Hmm.
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Having Ekaterina listen in on the Traveler's conversation at the Bubu Pharmacy wasn't something he enjoyed; he's not about to go out of his way to repeat that sort of thing.
Though, if someone happened to have an interesting conversation too near wherever he might happen to be, he wouldn't hurry to leave.
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Dinner goes smoothly enough with everyone having food and combat to talk about. [The Traveler] vigilantly steers their discussions of the latter into benign technicalities and away from murder. It's easy to spark long debates over things like the finer points of how a specific weapon should be maintained, or how much the smithing methods really matter, or whether prototype ultra-mechanized crossbows coming out of Fontaine are any good. But even in those discussions [they have] to be on guard against Childe's tendency to digress into dangerous territory.
[They resort] to trying to signal at Childe to change the subject. Eyebrow shenanigans prove ineffective, but lightly kicking Childe's boot with [their] shoe works. The length of Childe's legs makes up for the shortness of [theirs]; [they don't] even have to slouch down to reach.
[...]
The first time the Traveler kicked him under the table—if that tap he barely felt through his boot could be called a kick—Childe didn't know why [they] did it, but it made him forget what he was talking about. The second time, he realized the Traveler was trying to change the subject. It wasn't until the fourth time that he saw the commonality between the subjects the Traveler was trying to avoid. He kept getting those nudges throughout dinner though, because again and again he dove into the deep end of his favorite subjects without thinking. Rather than shoot the Traveler any kind of look in response, whether they'd have been sulky or apologetic or otherwise, he did [them] the favor of his best efforts to make the interruptions seem natural.
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Childe flicks his hands and the water flies off into suspended droplets before falling neatly into the sink.
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"Well, have you ever been to the Chasm in Liyue?"
"Oh yes, I've snuck in a couple of times for work. I've even been underground, albeit not far."
"How'd you get down there with the seal still active?"
Childe winks. "Fatui secrets."
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[They carefully pick] up the jacket to have a rarefied closer inspection, studying its various metal accessories and dangling decorations. [They] can't quite tell whether any of them are 'decorations' in the military sense. Altogether, it's rather heavy, at least compared to the light-weight attire [they prefer for themself]. The fabric isn't as stiff as it looked, though. The only part of it that seems to denote Childe's status as a Harbinger is not part of it: Signora had a cape or cloak with the same colors and ornamentation as Childe's sash, and Scaramouche had something similar attached to his belt that [the Traveler] never got a good look at.
Childe leans against the other end of the counter with his hands resting on its edge, watching the Traveler examine his jacket. He hasn't taken the time or acquired the supplies to sew up the rips yet. He should, or else they might get bigger. Then again, he can just have it replaced. It's pretty typical of the two very different lives he's lived to recommend polar-opposite actions to him.
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The Traveler had thought he might not come back? Did [they] believe anything Childe said? Ever?
Will [they] ever take me at my word? Hah, why should [they]. [They know] how I lie to the people I love the most.
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Childe laughs. It's a strong and pure sound, unlike his last one. It's the opposite of the type of laugh [the Traveler] has heard most often from him: the slightly manic one that ends sounding like he's dying or about to cry.
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Being around the Traveler is a bucking horseride of highs and lows, but at least it's never boring. And, despite Childe being far more inclined to dwell on lows than he'd ever admit to anyone, the highs are convincing him it's all worth it. All of it, all the way back to the original events that set him on the path where he'd meet the Traveler. He started thinking that way at such an early point in their friendship that even he himself looks back on it as somewhat irrational.
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His way of being a middle child, with three older siblings and three younger, was to compete with the older ones on responsibility. It got him some attention and praise, and if his help was taken for granted more often than not, he still got to monopolize his father's attention for long hours when they went ice fishing, and that wasn't always unrelated. He'd had a very comfortable niche in his family, in hindsight, and because of his timid nature back then, he was never a rebellious teenager. Until he was.
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The surface [of his mask] is the slightest bit glossy, resembling metal. But fire is commonplace in combat, whether against element-touched monsters, Vision wielders, or just a normal human with a torch. Ceramic can be highly temperature-resistant, whereas having metal against one's bare skin is a liability when fire enters the equation.
The mask's design was left up to him. He went with something that evokes his Foul Legacy form. Of course, there typically weren't mirrors sitting around on a battlefield, and when there were, it was inside a building where transforming would only cause him problems. But, he wields Hydro. He's seen himself in water's reflections. He saw the Devouring Deep reflected in pools of blood the first time he succeeded in transforming.
The mask's craftsmanship was masterful. Light weight, fine edges, flawless glaze. Anything custom-made for a Harbinger had to be the best.
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The reason that Fatui wielders of Delusions must all wear masks isn't one he understands well, but it's supposed to reduce the side effects. It doesn't cost him any fun to wear it, so he never had any objection. It limits his field of view, yes, but that just adds a small margin of challenge. As he retested a few days ago, even fighting with his eyes closed isn't what he'd call difficult; people make all kinds of noise as they move.
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Back home, shoes are always taken off and slippers put on, but he's seen no slippers here. It makes sense: Snezhnaya's floors are cold and these aren't. There's something to be said for the role of culture in such things, of course. As he discovered in Liyue's traditions, it's not just about necessity.
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It's time for blini. To save time he'll have to use unyeasted batter. That's fine. First, he browses the few bottles of alcohol the Traveler has on hand. He doesn't expect to find vodka, simply because it's not as popular outside of Snezhnaya as within, but there it is: one bottle, previously opened but almost full. Probably used for cooking. That's what he's going to use it for, too—just not in the same way.
The only way to cook authentic Snezhnayan food is while tipsy on vodka. That's what his babushka used to say, and who is he to argue?
He pours himself a glass of vodka and a glass of water. As he takes his time getting the ingredients and dishes together, he sips liberally from both.
Among the Fatui he was always presumed to be a lightweight, and they weren't wrong in the beginning. He arrived as a scrawny kid to work and fight alongside some of the biggest men in the world, the most hulking specimens of Snezhnayan hardiness, insulated by so much muscle and fat they claimed they didn't feel the cold. Those men could've thrown him halfway to Fontaine...if only they could ever catch him without losing body parts.
As in all things, that's what practice is for. Until he reached drinking age, he could only sneak a bottle once in a while, and he was always punished for it both by the hangover and disciplinary action from his superiors. By the time he learned how to avoid the former, the latter was no longer forthcoming.
He waits until he starts to feel the vodka before he mixes the dry ingredients, adds the wet ingredients, and whisks them together.
[...]
His dexterity is uncompromised, and it'd take quite a bit more alcohol before he'd have any problems on that front. His senses, however, have begun to dull ever so slightly, and the alcohol relaxes him just enough that the uncontrolled loss of acuity doesn't make him panic. It's a minor respite which he has never chased into an addiction. Indulging or perhaps overindulging now and again is one thing; blunting and hobbling himself with a dependency is another. Besides, he doesn't want to be like this all the time. It just makes a taste of home that much more enjoyable.
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korethekiller · 3 years
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Chorby re-enters the ring
I love them so much even before they got eaten by sharks but I think 0 stars is still very poggers of them
[image ID: four images of Chorby Soul, depicted in full on the bottom left image. They are tall with warm brown skin and pupilless yellow eyes. Their hair is curly and maroon, shaved at the sides and tied in a top knot. They are wearing a dark blue shirt tucked into light grey pants, as well as black cleats with bright yellow-green highlights. Their nails are also painted yellow-green. They're holding a baseball in their left hand, which is covered with areas of squares of differing colors resembling a mosaic.
The second image on the bottom is Chorby's head drawn at 3/4ths view, where they look the same except for hints of blue in the edges of their eyes and a red earring with the letters "AOAXUA" dangling from it.
The third image on the top left is a picture of their open palm, where a pattern of mosaic tiles centered around a single off-white tile in the center of their palm. The tiles that lead out from it are varying shades of olive, magenta, and beige.
The fourth image is of Chorby from above the waist, they are holding a hand over their bleeding shoulder. There are bite marks on their right forearm, and they're also wearing a similar earring from before, this time with "AAOXH". They're looking to the side with a tired expression saying "God I hate it here"
/end ID]
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4mulaone · 2 years
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also to my 4mulaonefans asking i will be reviewing matildas 2021 predictions post and then will be posting my 2022 predictions just before the new season starts so look out for this extremely interesting and engaging content . i love being a creative
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aemoglobin · 2 years
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laughing into my hands but in a slightly manic way
shakes my high schooler self like a snowglobe girl you were FUCKED UP
your RPs were fucked up and your characters were fucked up and baby that was the TRAUMA!!!!!!! that was the trauma!!! oh god! i can track the grooming! hahaha!!
2015 was the first hard reset of my OCs i’ve had since 2009, and since then i’ve continued to refine my faves and make sure they are up to my standards......
when i moved for the first time i actually scrapped about 50 OCs which hurt so bad but their stories weren’t ones i wanted to pursue any more. i still have like 300 left from high school and i know i added like 50+ more when i was in college, not to mention the plethora of SI-OCs i’ve developed in the past 3 years
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cyrelia-j · 6 years
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[ficlet] #17 Snowflake (Jack/Julian)
Continuing 30 Days of Jack with some Jack/Julian this time. I always seem to run long with these two
All of these are under the tag “30 days of jack”
Series note: These start out Jack/Sarina moving to Jack/Julian (as you can see lol). These aren’t always being posted in chronological order. For now the timeline is as follows: 1, 2, 12, 11, 15, 16, 7, 4, 8, 13, 3, 5, 14, 10, 9, 6, bonus #a, 17
To refresh- this is the latest story so far taking place after Jack decides to stay on DS9 and after he and Julian are involved. Jack has no canon birthday but Tim Ransom is 4/19 and Aries actually fits him pretty well so that’s what I’m going with
Warnings: none just fluff and Jack’s stream of conscious thought processes
It’s been fifteen years, five months, two days, and twenty one hours since Jack has last seen snow. The counter for snowfall in his mind is the  White Witch in a snowglobe, each delicate flake dropping another hour ticking up - Jack counts the time in snowfall in hours, not minutes or seconds because it isn’t Necessary to track it so closely. The counter resets when the doors from the holosuite open and he doesn’t know why Julian had insisted that he stay in his usual clothes because it’s cold and the moment the scene changes and his shoes crunch on the hard packed ground he feels the chill right down to his bones, the bitter chill, the endless incipient cold that-
 “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he hears Julian say right as a heavy winter coat is draped over his shaking shoulders. Jack turns and sees Julian standing there in a matching wool coat, long, black, as the snow falls down around them and he… must have been standing there staring longer than he realized lost in his own thoughts. It isn’t Brooklyn. It isn’t Manhattan and the trees aren’t quite right to be anywhere in Earth’s New York that he remembers from his childhood but the snow still feels the same on his face and he takes a few steps, buttoning the coat with trembling fingers, waving away the gloves because the little drops on his fingers falling and melting are so… so…
 “This is the English countryside,” Julian says from further and further behind him as Jack looks up into the midnight sky at the beautiful pale luminescent atmosphere reflecting the ground and spins around and around his arms out at his sides until he’s beyond dizzy, eyes shut a moment, a stagger, his face sensitive from the cold so… unpleasant but so familiar that he… he can tune it out just a moment because it’s snow and the counter is Reset and the White Witch is standing up straight regal, proud, a small smile on her lips so vivid he can almost see her in the distance of the trees on her sled with a handful of Turkish Delight and the only sounds are his own feet, his own breaths, Julian’s breaths and... Julian’s heart beating faster?
 Jack stops, the world spinning, Julian spinning beautifully, standing still, gloves, hat, hands in his pockets smiling at him just as bright as the sky and he blinks to steady his vision until Julian appears as still as the rest of the world.
“I remembered this from my Aunt’s house. It used to look like this so I thought it isn’t home but you might like it anyway. I don’t understand how you can like snow so much when you’re always cold.” It gives Jack pause, searching, always searching for some censure, some criticism, but Julian is just… wearing that “I love you” look which makes Jack warmer than ten sweaters and he looks out beyond Julian to those snow covered Junipers teeth starting to chatter just a bit but from cold and not nerves and that’s a Good chattering.
             “The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone,” He quotes while Julian murmurs “Shelley” and Jack doesn’t know why Julian always has to identify the name out loud like it’s a game but- “It’s quiet,” he whispers, knowing that no matter how low Julian will always hear him. “I… I like the winter,” he says speaking deliberately, the chatter of cold offsetting the chatter of nerves just this once, steady, calm, Jack’s calm not the waves of the sea but the still death of winter. He can think in the winter and he can breathe in the winter and… and this must have cost Julian a lot (cost a lot in the middle of a bitter war and he doesn’t know if he’s Worthy of that but-) he realizes as he takes another few steps, the crunch beneath his feet one of the few sounds, the dark night snow bright different than sun bright. It doesn’t hurt his eyes.
 He hears a rustle and pauses, doesn’t turn, because he trusts that no matter what sounds he hears that when Julian is there it’s Safe so he doesn’t need to-
“Do you also like this?” he hears and turns just to see the dark red gems dusted in white powder and he thinks he swallows or doesn’t breathe for a moment because… because there’s no counter for Turkish Delight because… because he never thought he’d… not in his life he didn’t think… didn’t think that he would ever again… “Jack?” Is he staring? Is he fixating? Is he doing something Wrong? He blinks again, a stop of time, a flash forward bon those nanoseconds and it isn’t often that Julian shows off his abilities but there’s his hand hovering in front of Jack’s face fingers dusted in powder holding a piece out.
 “Open your mouth.”
“You… you know I’m going to-”
“I know. Happy Birthday.”
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blankdblank · 6 years
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Snowglobes
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Tags –
@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @fizzy-custard, @evyiione, @red608
Dwalin, “And just what would the point of that be?”
 “Well, mostly for people to get together and show that they care about each other.”
 Thorin’s eyes darted towards yours from his perch on the large boulder he was sitting on, using it to majestically stare into the distance you had yet to travel, the bright blue eyes sparkling with racing thoughts at a chance to show you how he cares about you using one of your own traditions from your former life in another world, as Balin said with a kind smile, “That sounds like a lovely tradition, is there any more to it?”
“Mostly with my family since there were so many of us we would draw names and focus on the gift for that person, but it’s a secret, you’re not supposed to know who gives it to you, you have to guess when everyone’s opened theirs, it’s called Secret Santa.” Content that you’d already explained Santa Clause and most of the background of the holiday to the already through most of the morning already.
  Dwalin, “So there’s no chance to give a gift to someone you care about? You are only allowed the one gift for the name you draw?”
  You looked at him letting out a chuckle, “You can gift what you like to who you like, Secret Santa is just a way to make sure everyone at least gets one thoughtful gift a year.” Your head tilted to the side for a moment gazing past Thorin though to his position it appeared you were gazing at him affectionately nearly drawing a blush over his prickling cheeks. “So is Durin’s day just about the moon positions? Not like his birthday or a celebration of his first sandwich or something?”
  Thorin’s lips tugged into a small smirk, voice showing a hint of amusement, “Merely the moon patterns unfortunately.”
  “Hmm, pity, and here I thought we’d get to put you on a float and parade you Durins around covered in tinsel or something.”
  Making his smile grow as he quietly chuckled, “You mean to send us out on Laketown lake on a float?”
  You giggled shaking your head drawing another twinkle from his eyes, “No, it’s like a decorated wagon you lead them out in rows, each one has its own design to it. There’s music and dance numbers sometimes and even some fireworks involved.”
  Thorin chuckled “Perhaps we could manage a few of your traditions though I’m not sure how well the rest of the Dwarves would take to them.”
  You smiled eyes glowing brightly with a matching smile causing his to do the same, “Promise?”
  Biting your lip with a hopeful gaze melting his heart and claiming the puddle as yours forcing a large slightly obedient flash in his eyes at your incredibly adorable expression, “I Promise.”
  Your smile grew as the Dwarves around you broke into excited whispers all planning possible gifts.
  …
  Dark, Cold, Massive endless tunnels.
  Seated along the wall in the Forges Thorin had ordered you to stay in to keep you warm, tears rolled down your cheeks, lip quivering as your mind flooded with the endless stories of Erebor the older Dwarves had told you, none of which ringing true with your so called King barking orders in his armor and furs topped with his crown a few inches above his clouded misty blue eyes boring deep into your soul ordering you into the warmest corner of this Mountain while the others worked in the freezing treasury.
  .
  Your fingers clutching your legs pulling them closer to your chest, whispering through your tears, as you heard another echo of Thorin’s orders, “You promised” mentally counting the days until Christmas while your mind filled with your former life, and everything you would be doing right now to your small two bedroom house you inherited from your Grandmother, the house that your entire family would flock to for Christmas, covering each inch of free floor space through the tiny house.
  One of the things drawing you closer to the Dwarves, to their shock they’d woken to find you woven between them, using Dwalin’s stomach as a pillow with Thorin resting on your side using it as a pillow as Fili and Kili both curled their arms around your legs as Bilbo claimed the free space on your middle shielding you completely from the cold and somehow you managed not to get killed when Thorin woke with your hand curled in his hair while the other absently stroked his beard in your sleep, shocking them mostly because they’d made sure you had a safe spot at the edge of their pile with a stack of their spare blankets and coats to warm you. The Durins all relenting after at your continued sneaking into their piles, eventually leaving your space bare along with Thorin making sure his braids and clasps were free of the area your hands always clutched onto, the first rule of traveling with Dwarves, do not touch their hair and yet here he relented your waking with handfuls, even somewhat looking forward to it even in your eyes.
  .
  But at least you tried, if you were to die on this Journey you were certain that would be carved into your headstone if they bothered with one, ‘She Tried” Something so simple and unbelievably painful, training with weapons from each Dwarf along with the language lessons though your hardest lesson came with your first literal cliff to climb. Nearly a half of the way up at the back of the line your footing slipped causing your face to crash into the wall before you fell the ten feet heavily breaking two of your ribs, lying there barely able to breathe as they neared the top. Sitting up, dragging yourself over to the cliff and starting again ignoring the blood trickling from your nose, the Dwarves all none the wiser until they spotted you gripping the rocks at the top with blood trailed from your nose and down to your chest that paired nicely with your broken finger, along with your knees and hands coated in cuts and bruises nearly breaking their hearts at their missing the chance to save you from the pain. But after a short trip to the stream with Oin and Bilbo who cleaned you up they made sure you had more than your usual share of food before doing their best to keep you from your training that night without success only earning you a deeper spot in their favor.
  .
  Finally done crying you’d settled on your list, exploring the forge and starting on your gifts, through the next week you’d finished them all and managed to sneak trips to Balin’s side to ask for locations of certain items between sneaking them food and drinks. Setting up the Royal Dining Room, scrubbing it and hanging extra banners in red and green, adding more candle holders around the room and setting the table up with gifts in each plate with nameplates and heading out for your next to last task passing the group along the way in the shadows, another tear rolling freely at the sight of Thorin screaming at them yet again.
  Finding your way back to the hidden door and working your way down the staircase, though as you reached nearly the end of it once again the stair crumbled under your foot and you found yourself falling down the last three flights, slamming hard into the new layer of snow, the hard cold layers breaking and folding over you as you sank to the frozen ground below. Panting you staggered to your feet through the cold powder layers above you and step by step you faced the growing blizzard between you and Mirkwood adjusting the bag draped across your chest for countless hours blindly aiming for the Forest. Your breath coming out in a rasp as you pulled the frozen scarf off of your face and numbly stumbled into the forest violently shaking as the cold air steamed off of you in the enchanted forest, shuffling deeper into the heated forest warming up more with each.
  Managing your way back to the enchanted river kneeling on the branches hanging over the river, readying yourself to drop down slowly you found yourself crashing down to the ground as a rope curled around your legs, a blonde haired Elf coming into view before you slammed your eyes shut, nervously rolling you over as you let out an ear piercing scream at the throbbing in your left arm that you landed on. His words falling on deaf ears as your body poured out several minutes of gasping sobs clutching your eyes shut unwilling to move your left arm at all, your breathing staggered as he finished untying the rope around you sure you’d attack him but remaining stunned as you laid there keeping your eyes shut as your lip quivered.
  His hands gently brushing your cheeks, “Please open your eyes.”
  Your voice coming out in barely a trembling whisper, “No.”
  “I’m not going to hurt you, again, I didn’t mean to make you fall, I have to check your eyes for damage.”
  “My eyes are fine but they’re staying closed, as soon as I open them I’m going to look at my arm and it’s going to hurt so much worse, I would prefer the blind pain.”
  He let out a sigh his eyes dropping to your arm, “It’s broken, I’m going to have to reset it.”
  “Just do it.”
  He sighed curling his hand gently in yours before jerking it back into place as you held the muffled whimper between your clenched jaws before he set a row of sturdy sticks around it, tearing something and binding them to your wrist before another tear and another layer was wrapped around your new splint. His hand brushing away the next sets of tears saying, “Alright, it’s all banded, will you open your eyes now?”
  You drew in a slow breath and timidly opened your eyes nearly triggering a gasp from him at the familiar purple shade, his hand quickly brushing your hair free from your ear revealing your pointed ears, “Happy now Prince Legolas?”
  His eyes widened, “You were traveling with Thorin Oakenshield, we thought he’d already entered the Mountain.”
  “We did, I came with a message for your Father.”
  A deep look of regret flashed in his eyes and he carefully helped you up, “Can you stand?”
  You nodded staggering onto your feet with his help, “Standing is never the hard part.” As you started your path again and he quickly rejoined your side.
  “I owe you my sincerest apologies!”
  “Not a problem, gravity and all that.” Glancing over and catching his curious expression and letting out an exhausted chuckle, “I used to be human, in another world, I died, got sent here woke up as an Elf. So falling tends to happen often with me.”
  “How did you get them to let you stay with them?”
  You glanced at him and chuckled again as you sat on the hip high root, swinging your legs over it as he helped you back to your feet after he jumped over it, “Grabbed Thorin by the hair and didn’t let go my first night in my sleep. Something about getting a handful of their hair, if they allow it marks your place in their clan, he didn’t kill me after so I was tolerated.”
  He smirked at you, “Grabbed him by the hair?”
  You giggled, “I used to have this blanket, fake fur, and Thorin has that bear fur vest, his hair just got in the way the first time I’m guessing.”
  Legolas eyed you again curiously, “Why did you get sent rather than one of the Dwarves?”
  You smirked at him raising a brow as he helped you over another set of roots, “No one sent me.”
  He paused when your feet hit the ground again, “Then what message is it?”
  You sighed, “I’m inviting him to a party I’m throwing.”
  His head tilted to the side, “A party?”
  “It’s..complicated.”
  “And Thorin has agreed to this party?”
  “No, but he will, and you’re going to help me convince your Father to attend.”
  A smirk ran across his face crossing his arms, “Really, why is that now?”
  You took a step closer tapping his nose with your index finger on your unharmed arm smirking in return, “Because I’ll tell him you broke my arm when I only came to deliver a message, ‘Don’t harm the messenger and all that’.” Stepping around him after shooting him a wink.
  His arms quickly fell as his lips parted, turning to reach your side again, “You wouldn’t!”
  You giggled, “Oh I might, this party is important, Thorin gave me his word and I’m going to give your Father my word that he will not be harmed and everyone is going to behave. And if they don’t then I will tear them both to pieces broken arm and all.”
  His had grabbed your shoulder carefully, stopping you, “What is all this about?”
  His eyes trailing over your face noting the pain flooding into your eyes as your breathing quickened, “Because my memories are all I have left of my home! And Thorin promised and he’s ruining his home and they’re going to hurt him if they keep it up, so I’m doing something about it, they’re all attending and they’re all going to behave or else!”
  He stepped closer wiping the tear rolling down your cheek releasing a steady breath, “I’ll do what I can. But I can’t promise anything, My Father tends to have his moods.”
  You giggled rolling your eyes and continuing the path, “I’ve witnessed that.”
  Legolas took a full step rejoining your side with another smirk as two more guards on patrol spotted you both and come to join you back to the Castle, “How exactly did you get out of the dungeons?”
  You giggled, “Like I’d tell you now and risk my chance for getting back to the Mountain if the King has another one of his moods.” Earning a chuckle from him and the other two guards.
  ..
  Thranduil sighed resting his head back against the back of his Throne closing his eyes and enjoying the silence as his mind wandered trying to hear past the growing storm to hear if Smaug was still alive unsure if Thorin and his Company had succeeded, blinking his eyes open again as his brows pressed together hearing his Son back from his rounds early. His head raising and turning to the door as it opened before him, the sight of the small Elleth from Thorin’s Company coated in blood, cuts and a strangely assembled splint on her left arm driving him to stand before his eyes fell to his Son’s torn shirt as he quickly descended the steps quickly reaching her with three of his long strides.
  Walking around her in a small circle eying her closely then glancing at his Son checking for any damage on him other than his shirt before looking back to her, “What happened to you?” Gently raising her injured arm and eyeing the splint his Son had made doing his best not to cause you any pain.
  “I broke a set of stairs somehow, I thought Elves were supposed to be weightless. The arm was from my landing from a tree branch.”
  He King smirked down at you curiously, “And just why has Thorin sent the falling prone Elleth to speak with me?”
  “Thorin didn’t send me, I came on my own.”
  His brows raised, “Really, tired of the Dwarves already?” Gently pressing his fingers through the sticks forming the brace testing to see where exactly the break was.
  “No, it’s sort of complicated, I came to invite you to a party I’m throwing.”
  His eyes raised to yours before a smirk slid across his face, “A party in celebration of what exactly?”
  “Christmas.” He blinked at you as you sighed, “It’s, it’s a holiday from my past life, Thorin promised I could celebrate it and I wanted to invite you and Legolas of course.”
  “And why exactly would I celebrate this strange holiday of yours?”
  “Because it’s about togetherness and peace and having a fun time with people you care about.” You caught the start of an eye roll from him, “I know you think it’s ridiculous but I know you know what it’s like to lose your home,” His face going blank as his lips parted slightly, “And I had a family, a huge one and we’d celebrate every year! And it’s Christmas and Thorin promised and you’re all just being ridiculous, so you’re coming and you’re going to behave and enjoy yourselves and stop acting like you’re so much better than each other when you’re in the same puddle on opposite sides of a fence, so just suck it up, put on one of your flashy shirts and just do this one thing for me!” He drew in a quick breath as you quickly added, “Please.” Forcing a smirk to run across Legolas’ face before a matching one slid across the King’s.
  “So I’m just supposed to do you this favor when you’ve shown yourself to be untrustworthy by sneaking out of my dungeons?”
  “I killed Smaug.” Reaching into your bag pulling out one of his fangs which the King accepted carefully before inspecting it.
  “So he’s dead then, and your Company is all intact?”
  He caught your expression drop letting out a quiet sigh, “Thorin needs a good slap, but everyone is ‘intact’ yes.”
  His head tilted to the side as his smirk returned, “A slap?”
  “Or a punch I haven’t decided yet, he’s not himself and he deserves it, the others are just following orders to shut him up.”
  His smirk dimmed, “He’s fallen to the Dragon Sickness then?”
  “Yes, but my party is going to fix that, and your whole not-being-friends-thing.”
  His smirk grew again as he nodded, “Oh really now?” He slid his hand gently around the back of your shoulder holding out his other, “Let’s get you healed and cleaned up and you can explain this Christmas of yours and what your expectations for my attendance would be.”
  .
  You nodded allowing him to show you to the healing wing so your arm could be mended before you scrubbed clean pulling on the change of clothes that he provided you with after seeing your extra pair was meant for a Dwarf before leading you to a small dining room in the Royal Wing sharing a dinner with you as you explained the holiday fully while Legolas changed and returned to his patrol. Between your sentences and bites your eyes skimmed over the metal cast they had fitted for your arm, solid bars forming straight along your forearm and curved to fit snuggly around your wrist, palm and thumb with metal swirls resembling vines and leaves, unsure of why they had chosen such a decorative way to bind a broken arm.
  Thranduil smirked as you finished your description, “So then it’s merely dinner and gifts then, nothing else is expected of me past behaving, as you put it?” You nodded, “Why invite me?”
  “Because you’re going to need to speak eventually, might as well get it out of the way now, what do you gain from waiting?”
  He smirked at you again as you took another bite of your chicken and veggies, “Not very much, I suppose gaining a tolerance from them now will go better when the others return later on. Honestly I’m more concerned with allowing you back with Thorin under the Sickness, you’re already so talented in getting hurt on your own, I don’t want to give him the chance to hurt you.”
  You smirked at him pointing your empty fork at him while you did, “You’re such a big softie, the both of you, giant softies.” Stabbing another piece of chicken and putting it in your mouth and chewing the bite full.
  “Softie?” Raising his brows again.
  You gigged then swallowed, “You try to be all hard and detached but I bet you just snuggle and cuddle as much as you can with the people you care about out of sight from others.”
  “And just what would give you that idea?”
  You giggled again, “Just a hunch.”
  A large smile formed on his face as his eyes twinkled at you while reaching for his glass of wine and raising it to his lips slowly as he said, “When I care to, I ‘snuggle’ as you put it, whenever I wish, no matter who is around, the presence of others has no bearing on my actions towards those I care for deeply.” Taking a sip before adding, “Feel free to ask Legolas when he returns.”
  “I imagine those you’ve cared for have enjoyed your more affectionate side immensely, can’t imagine the feelings that must have stirred for them, getting to be so close to the hidden side of a King.” Finishing the last of your meal and keeping your eyes on your plate as he eyed you curiously.
  “I imagined you might have known those feelings yourself.”
  Your eyes met his as you let out a quick chuckle, “I’ve met two Kings and I am fairly certain neither of you would care for a person like me past amusements at my stumbling.”
  “Thorin hasn’t asked to court you yet? I’ve never seen a Dwarf protect a woman so selflessly than one he’s courting or set to.”
  You chuckled again, before sighing and meeting his eyes, “I’m his Dragon Slayer, we had a contract, nothing past me being his pillow.”
  A sudden flash of sadness filled his eyes for a moment as if your comment about yourself and drooping demeanor had been like a slap across his face before he managed a small smirk back on his face, “Then I suppose you would not be against learning just how affectionate I can be.”
  Your eyes met his with a growing smirk, “Tempting, but it will take more than a dinner to gain my affections Your Majesty.”
  He let out a loud laugh before leaning closer with a large smile, “Oh, so now it’s Your Majesty, when not so long ago you were ordering me to attend your party and behave myself in the company of your Dwarf and Hobbit Companions.”
  You giggled, “What can I say, I’m a bit short tempered when I have a broken bone.”
  Thranduil laughed again raising his glass again for another sip, “Understandably so.”
  …
  The Throne Room was dark and cold as Thorin dropped heavily into his Throne again, eyes drooping heavy over his haze filled eyes, once again the day had ended in failure, the Stone was yet to be found, growling slightly as sleep took him. Strolling through the Royal Wing eying the green stone surrounding him in the well lit halls, Thorin made his way to his Grandfather’s office, knocking firmly on the door and entering when granted permission. Finding his Grandfather standing before the large fireplace, hands held behind his back as he looked up to his Father’s portrait, Thorin paused as he reached the carpet crossing his arms behind his back as well straightening up into a proud stance mimicking Thror’s as the elder turned to face him. Their eyes locking drew a pulse from the room, which flickered from its bright green hue to black in the darkness and back again as Thorin’s appearance shifting from his youthful one to his present state, shrouded in furs and armor with an older version of Thror’s crown still seated on his brow.
  Thror, “Thorin, what have you done?”
  Thorin’s heart dropped to his stomach drawing a dry swallow from him, his voice coming out in a deep tremble, “I reclaimed our homeland.”
  Thror’s eyebrows rose, “You did?”
  His voice coming out sterner, “I led the Company here.”
  Thror nodded taking a step closer, “And the trolls?”
  Thorin’s eyes squinted slightly for a moment, “Bilbo distracted them until the sun rose.”
  “The wargs shortly after that?”
  “The Elves from Rivendell and a few from my Company killed them.”
  He nodded again, “And Azog?”
  Thorin swallowed, “My Dragon Slayer.” He drew in a quick breath trembling slightly at the memory as it flooded back to him, “What does..”
  Thror raised his hand silencing him as he stepped closer, “And just how did you manage freedom from Mirkwood’s dungeons?”
  “Bilbo and My Dragon Slayer did.”
  “And your trip to Erebor? Freeing yourselves from under the Master’s foot?”
  “Bilbo and My Dragon Slayer again.”
  “And Smaug?”
  “My..”
  Thror raised his hand, stepping closer, “You can’t say it, can you?”
Thorin’s fists were clenched as his body trembled against his will, “She..”
Thror stepped closer so his head was just to Thorin’s left, close to his ear and whispered, “Jaqi.”
 .
A memory of the first night you’d curled in their sleeping pile along with the feeling of your hands curled in his hair and beard.
  Thror pulled back taking a few steps back, “Say it.”
 .
Another flash of you washing dishes in the stream, his eyes trailing over the moonlight shining on your skin as your hair hung around you freely.
  Thror’s body starting to turn to stone before him leaving his eyes beaming at him brightly, “Say it Thorin.”
.
You were riding the horse in the rain, laughing loudly as Bofur attempted to win the bet about not being able to tell 50 jokes or puns about rain, glancing over at Thorin with a beaming smile post laugh as your eyes sparkled through the thick sheets of rain.
  Thror, “SAY IT!” His shout causing the pulsing room to violently shake around him driving Thorin’s heart to pound faster.
  Thorin drew a deep breath as the walls pulsed furiously around him while large cracks spread over them stepping forward gripping his Grandfather’s fading fur coat harshly, “JAQI, JAQI, JAQI.” The cracks growing deeper drawing the walls to a crumbling ruin around him as his voice cracked, tears sliding down his cheeks as he breathlessly continued through a sob, “Jaqi..”
  .
  His hands uncurling from Thror’s now vanished coat as he found himself back at the campsite as you had just finished telling them ‘A Christmas Carol’, each of them taking turns commented on the story before Kili said, “But there’s not even a song that goes with it, why do they call it a Carol?”
  You giggled pulling Thorin’s eyes back to yours, “I’m not entirely sure to be honest.” Giggling again.
  Ori, “Do you know any, Christmas Carols, I mean.”
  You nodded, “A few, most of them I only remember the tune, the words are a bit fuzzy.”
  Fili smirked at Kili nodding his head at Thorin who was staring at you with a dopey grin, earning a smirk from Kili as Fili said, “Go on then, teach us one.” Kili nudged him in the side and he quickly added, “Please.”
  You giggled and glanced at Thorin fighting a stunned expression at his loving gaze that only grew deeper when you locked eyes, “Would you mind if I borrowed your harp, it’s better with music and I’m not that skilled that I can manage a violin and teach at the same time yet.” Thorin quickly nodded and nearly climbed over Dwalin to grab it and place it gently in your hands after pulling it from the deep blue velvet lined bag, then smiled as he sat back down eagerly waiting to see how to play this favorite song of yours, you settled back down and eased yourself into the right position and drew a breath to steady your nerves as you rested it against your shoulder before your fingers drew the first note.
  Soon enough having the entire Company joining you after breaking them into groups and assigning ranges for each of them.
  La, da, da, da, da,
  La, da, da, da, da,
  La, da, da, da, da...
      Hark how the bells
  Sweet silver bells
  All seem to say
  Throw cares away
      Christmas is here
  Bringing good cheer
  To young and old
  Meek and the bold
      Ding dong ding dong
  That is their song
  With joyful ring
  All caroling. (Oh! Oh! Ahh)
      One seems to hear
  Words of good cheer
  From everywhere (From everywhere)
  Filling the air
      Oh how they pound, (Oh how they pound)
  Raising the sound
  O'er hill and dale
  Telling their tale. (Telling their tale)
      Gaily they ring
  While people sing
  Songs of good cheer
  Christmas is here
      Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas, (Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas)
  Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas. (Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas)
      On on they send
  On without end
  Their joyful tone
  To every home
      Ah! Ah! Ah!
      Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding dong
      La, da, da, da, da,
  La, da, da, da, da,
  La, da, da, da, da...
      Hark how the bells, (Hark how the bells)
  Sweet silver bells
  All seem to say, (All seem to say)
  Throw cares away (We will throw cares away)
      Christmas is here (Christmas is here)
  Bringing good cheer (Bringing cheer)
  To young and old (To the young and old)
  Meek and the bold
      Oh how they pound, (Oh how they pound)
  Raising the sound
  O'er hill and dale
  Telling their tale (Telling their tale)
      Gaily they ring
  While people sing
  Songs of good cheer
  Christmas is here
      Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas
  (Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas)
      Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas
  (Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas)
      On on they send
  On without end
  Their joyful tone
  To every home
      Ah! Ah! Ah!
      La, da, da, da, da,
  La, da, da, da, da,
  La, da, da, da, da...
  Ending the song with the confirmation that it sounded better with actual bells, dozens of them along with an orchestra if the arrangement is right, drawing an agreement from the Dwarves that they would make sure you had several options for instruments and skilled choirs and orchestras of Dwarves to assist you in bringing it to life. Your smile grew before you tried to return the harp only to be asked by Thorin if you would play another, each night after ending the same with him practically begging you to play yet another for nearly a week until you ran out and he kindly asked if you’d teach him the songs. Enjoying the feeling of your hands guiding his even though through your performances he could have easily played back the simple tunes, choosing rather to learn them properly from you savoring each private moment with your skin brushing against his, each note drawing you deeper and deeper into his heart.
  Thror appeared in his memory standing across from you both, his fingers still playing the notes as your eyes stayed on them while Thorin gazed up with a growing rage inside him, “These moments are…”
  Thror let out a curt laugh, “Are what? Private?” Shaking his head, “Oh no Thorin, they’re never private.” He moved closer eyeing you drawing a snarl onto Thorin’s face his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek drawing an attack from Thorin, his hands gripping his coat and shoving him back, “Don’t you dare!” placing himself between your dissolving memory and Thror releasing a panting growl.
  Thror laughed as his eyes glowed fiercely, “There you are Thorin!” Clapping his hands drawing another memory of him as a child with Frerin at his side repeating their lesson for the day, “Khuzd tada tabjabi d'ahlut yusth mud ashmur diya ins ubnanhu” (A dwarf that chooses to take a wife must guard her as his greatest treasure.)
  Thorin stood eyeing himself as a child alongside his brother, curiously wondering why he was brought here until his little self crossed his arms and pouted, “But I won’t ever marry!”
  Thror chuckled and set down the book, holding lessons handed down since the days of Durin I, he was reading from, “Oh really, and why’s that?”
  “Anndae said Durins aren’t handsome enough to find Wives on their own.” His small face turned down curling the bits of thick woven thread hanging out the ends of the carpet he was seated on between his small fingers.
  Thror leaned down reaching out to raise his small head to meet his eyes again with a large smile, “Then you must find your One, then you could look like a toad and they would still choose you.”
  Frerin, “How are we supposed to find our Ones?”
  “Your One,” sighs, “Your One is, well they,”
Their Grandmother stepped through from the kitchen straight to Thror’s side and seated herself on the arm of his chair flattening her long skirt around her legs and smiling at the boys, “Your One is the one person who will always be there for you, even when they leave you there is always a piece of them with you, they are never truly gone from you, your presence or your mind stitched deeply into your heart and soul. Someone who would die and live for you, a person who would face a thousand lifetimes alone in hopes of just to see you one last time in their final rebirth, someone who would, when they gain absolutely nothing but the comfort of your presence would face anything to calm your heart and mind. The one person who would raze the world to the ground to allow room for your dreams to grow, the one person who will never ask for anything from you and yet give you everything they will ever have. Your One is the person you never have to look back to see if they’re still there when you’re chosen a path deemed impossible, they will never lose faith in you and they will never stop until your dreams are fulfilled, even if it takes everything they have to make them come true. They are your strength but you have to remember, they are far from unbreakable, both infinite and fragile complimenting and contrasting you.”
  Small Thorin rubbed his head, “Then how will we know if it’s them and not just a friend?”
  His Grandmother smiled larger, “Because you never have to try or pretend with them, no expectations no judgment, you’re safe with them to be as free as you like, with them you’re always home.”
  The children nodded as the memory started to fade and Thorin asked in a teary whisper, “Why are you showing me this?”
  Thror met his gaze turning to face him, “What have you done Thorin?”
  The young King’s head tilted slightly as his brows lowered slightly, “I don’t understand.”
  Thror smirked at him, “Really?” Turning and walking out of the room that started crumbling into darkness, forcing Thorin to chase after him to rejoin his side, Thror eyed the dimming halls around them as he did the same, stopping in the Treasury door as another Thorin stood screaming at his Men below before they moved past through to the forges where over the screams and roaring fires they could hear sniffling and quiet sobs. Both entering to find you along the wall curled in a ball weeping until a louder screaming echo made its way into the forges with your whispered response following shortly after, “You promised.”
  The walls pulsed again as Thror asked once more, “What did you do Thorin?”
  Thorin turned to Thror as the walls shifted leaving them in the Royal Wing now outside the dining room with the door shut, Thorin drew in a shaky breath as the walls pulsed again while your sobbing grew louder, whispering, “I promised.”
  Thror’s eyes furrowed, “What did you do Thorin?!”
  Thorin’s ears filled with a soft ringing that grew louder as the walls pulsed faster with waves coming out of them wracking against him threatening to steal his breath as he replied in a steadier voice, “I promised her...a ..”
  Thror, “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” The walls now nothing but painful waves slamming into his body from each side as your sobbing grew louder sparking another rage from Thorin, slamming his entire body against the door shouting, “I PROMISED HER!” Slamming into the door and staggering as it vanished leaving him in a black void that soon shifted into the scales of Smaug curling in a tight circle around him hissing into his ear, “I’m tempted to let you take it, just to watch you crumble Thorin Oakenshield.”
  His foot stepping back as he whispered, “Jaqi?” Fear filling his entire body, calling for you again over Smaug’s faint laughter, “Jaqi!” The laughter now causing a crawling under his skin as the massive body disappeared from before him revealing you standing aiming your bow at his chest, “Jaqi?!”
A groan escaping him as the skin on his back tore open allowing a pair of massive wings to protrude from underneath before his hands started shifting into scaled claws painfully, scales now sprouting from under his skin over his body, as he let out a terrified broken whisper “Jaqi?!”
Getting no reply only the sound of you drawing another breath before the arrow released as the scales started climbing his neck, a loud gasp escaping him as the arrow hit him in the left side of his chest straight into a bare patch of skin jerking him violently from his dream with another gasp. Clutching the arms of his Throne through another gasping breath before jerking free from his furs and armor and adding the crown to the pile on the stone chair panting as he turned his hands and inspected himself steadying his breaths as he whispered, “Jaqi?”
  He turned and sprinted for the forges drawing the attention of Bofur who had taken a quick pee break, “Heading back now You..” Pausing mid bow.
  Thorin growled as he ran by, “FUCK THE STONE!! JAQI!!?”
  The others heard his shouts and soon joined Bofur in the chase, all skidding to a stop in the forges as Thorin spun around whispering, “No, No…Upstairs..” Turning and rushing for Thror’s room, growling as he found that one empty before heading for the last room and bursting through the door fully expecting it to be locked just as in his dream, leaving it a shattered pile of wood on the floor scattered through the room.
  He panted as he slowly entered the darkened room with small streams of moonlight pooling in from the small cutouts in the ceiling, walking closer to the decorated table as the others took in the banners and candle holders along with a makeshift tree you’d made from books you had borrowed from the library decorated with twisted paper and origami flowers you had made with a small star on top. A shaky breath leaving Thorin as he heard your voice listing off the decorations and foods that would fill the small house that could easily fit three times over in this room eying the name cards on the boxes in the center of each plate, the Dwarves standing by their seats eying the cards finding their names and the note, “No Peaking!” Leaving them all chuckling until Thorin raised his note and found another underneath with a map.
  Softly whispering, “A map?”
  Balin walked to his side and examined it giving Thorin a small smile, he looked over the group and they all silently agreed to follow it, Thorin led the way, your small map ending in a small empty room near the forges, nearly 20x20 filled with moonlight and full of gears with a large ribbon on the clock in the center, Thorin’s face twisted slightly with confusion as he and the others examined it. Their eyes rising to the tray of stones dropping a stone that slid across a grooved plank to fall into a bucket that dropped lower triggering another stone, all connected to the large clock in the center.
  Bofur, “What the?!” His sentence ending with the last stone falling as the clock chimed, the bucket swinging and slamming into a peg holding the gears locked, freeing them to turn with the ticks of the second hand on the clock. All of them stepping back to the doorway as the whole room of gears slid into motion drawing their eyes to the large circular piece of metal in the middle with long metal planks attached to another above it, as the large circle spun it let out chimes sounding off like a piano in a few steady chimes as Thorin whispered, “It’s a music box.” Glancing up to see the rows of bells attached to pipes with small mallets on rotating grooves as the gears spun soon beginning a familiar song drawing large smiles from the group as it filled the mountain with echoes and the flocks of Ravens sang along in a large chorus around them.
  …
  The night wore on and you were escorted to a guest room on the Royal floor where you laid awake on the bed running your fingers over your new cast staring up at the ceiling listening to the storm growing outside at least until a soft knock sounded on your door followed by a velvety voice on the other side of your door, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
  You let out a soft chuckle, “So are you.”
  “I can’t sleep with that ringing.”
  “From the Mountain?”
  He chuckled, “I can’t hear the Mountain over the storm, I meant you rubbing the cast with your fingers.”
  “I’ll stop.”
  He chuckled again, “I’m up now, why aren’t you sleeping?”
  “It’s so quiet.”
  “Not used to sleeping alone yet?”
  “Haven’t slept since Smaug, none of us, seems off.”
  “Need some company?”
  “That wouldn’t be weird for you?”
  He chuckled again, “Not at all, though we’d have to stay in my bed not yours.”
  You rolled facing the door, “What’s wrong with this bed?”
  “Nothing other than if something happens my Guards won’t be able to find me directly.”
  You sighed and quickly crossed to the door opening it meeting his smirk with one of your own, “And how often does that happen?”
  He sighed, “More often than you’d think, though I assure you we will have privacy.”
  Your eyes trailed down his bare chest showing through his deep red robe before you stepped closer to him with another smirk, “And just what do you expect to happen between us requiring such privacy?”
  His arm rested along the doorframe above your head leaning closer with a matching smirk stopping inches from your face nearly drawing a gasp from you as your pulse rose, “Sleeping and possibly snuggling if you wish to, nothing more.” Pulling back and smirking as he noticed your quickened breaths grabbing your bag by the door as you grabbed your boots and followed him to his room and setting everything down by his door as he closed it behind you. Walking through the various areas as he watched you on his way to his bed, dropping his robe, laying back in his normal spot propped against the large stack of pillows, his chuckles echoed through the rooms as he heard you say, “I don’t think your pool is big enough.”
  “Really, why’s that?”
  “Well you have this entire room and it’s what only 30 feet across, I have no clue how you can fit in it at all.”
  He let out a quick laugh sitting up using his hands to prop himself up, “And why would that be?”
  “Have you noticed how big you really are? You’re what nearly 6ft 7? And that’s not mentioning your shoulders.”
  “Something’s wrong with my shoulders now?” Chuckling again.
  “Nothing’s wrong, they’re just really, broad, if that’s the right term.”
  He chuckled again, “I have noticed that I’m taller than most Elves I’ve met, though Sindar Elves are normally taller than others.”
  You moved from his open office/library to his bedroom leaning against the doorframe spotting his small curious smile, “What kind would you say I am?”
  He drew in and released a long breath eyeing you closely from head to toe, “Height alone I’d say Vanyar, were you that height in your past life?”
  “I think I’m taller here.” Drawing a soft chuckle from him.
  “Hard to say exactly, I’d have to know more about you.” His smirk came back as you eyed his massive bed, “Is it not big enough either?”
  You giggled making his smile grow, “You could fit 12 of you on it with inches between.” Stepping closer to trace a detail of a carving in one of the posts holding the large curtains both on top and around his bed that were tied back, “You’re the second, if you were curious.”
  You smiled over at him curiously, “Second what?” Gently sliding your fingers across the large comforter with a layer of furs thrown over it.
  “The second woman to be in this room.”
  Your eyes locked with his as your lips parted drawing a sparkle back into his eyes as they slid over you again admiring your figure in the light blue shirt and a pair of silver knee length pants cut especially short for your shorter frame, “Why welcome me here then if..”
  “Because I was afraid I may be growing feelings for you, can’t tell what it is exactly, if that bothers you…”
  “Why would it?”
  “Because you have feelings for Thorin. I may be tall but I’m not blind.”
  You sighed running your fingers over your cast again, his smile grew as he watched your fingers slide across it your eyes met his with a reluctant gaze dimming his smile slightly, “Feel free to ignore this question but, if you’d have known you’d lose her..”
  His smile came back a bit, “For Legolas I would choose her again, if nothing else he greatly surpassed the pain of losing her as he grew, are you scared of choosing him?”
  “How unkind would it be if we had children, bringing them that pain of losing him.”
  He sighed, “You can’t focus on the pain, though if ever mortality bothers you you’re always welcome here.”
  “And what exactly would I be expected to do here?”
  “Whatever you like.”
  “Hmm.”
  He smirked at you shifting his hands almost seeming to shimmy slightly as he exhaled, you drew in a quick breath and climbed on the foot of the bed and walked closer to him sitting up against some of the pillows a few inches from his side, he leaned over pulling the covers up over you, “Take your time, nothing here happens without your consent, especially with snuggling.”
  You turned to look at him again as he laid back settling into the bed, he exhaled again leaving the blanket covering his lap but not his chest which he gently stroked with his lips curling into a smirk drawing another giggle and an eye roll from you while he chuckled softly at your eyeing his chest and arms. Your conversation fell silent as you glanced out the massive window across from you drawing another sigh from you at the seemingly un-endless storm, “This storm is going to throw off my planning.” Shifting closer and laying your head on his shoulder as he smiled down at you.
  “I’m sure it will all work out exactly as you planned.” His eyes dropping as you winced adjusting your arm along his side while his hand went to gently claim your arm laying it across his chest, “Keep it even, we heal rather quickly but you have to help it along a bit with rest and proper leveling and elevation.” You laid your head back on his shoulder and he reached down to make sure you were covered.
Pt 2
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manydetailedthings · 7 years
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Some people don’t get to look back at anything, so I guess I had that. Some kind of inventory to process on the other end of this. Answers that parenthesize the silence. A pocket of warmth in the vacuum that details a temporary place on the planet. I got caught up in the details, hanging the banner of “It’ll All Work Out” across every action that exposed fault, across every resonant reaction, every phrase I allowed myself to gamble in pettiness. Tossed our moments together haphazardly like a handful of keys into an endlessly dark aquarium, slowly watching them float downward as the bubbles parted, puffing up the sand as they hit the floor of the murk. Right where I could grab them, unlock the safes, the doors, the gateway back to us. I’ll fix it when I get back. Time after time, when I get back. But you don’t know what the population will look like tomorrow or tomorrow. In the back of your mind, it’s the same cast in the same snowglobe and you can hit reset when you’re all done with your mishandled chances. I didn’t even say goodbye. This whole ship is sinking and in every direction is a vast emptiness with nothing to blame my faults on. I think back to hard wooden pews, lacquered smooth for the first Sunday in months, no friends or cousins or sisters there so I was fairly devastated at the thought of behaving but the free will to pay attention to the time with Grandpa Andy was the strongest light and the brightest beacon in these final moments. The dollar I put into the wicker basket collection plate that he gave me back in the drug store and how you love that story and wished you were there. This overdose is for keeps. Sorry I ignored your call.
Written while listening to My Iron Lung’s “Relief”.
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