Listen, I know I suck at five sentence fics, we’ve already established that, right? I’m sorry, but you’re stuck with me and my pathetic five-sentence attempts until the end of this month. Here, have another one.
Today’s fic for the Writer’s Month 2021 challenge (see @writersmonth for more info) focuses on Thorin and Dwalin. I’ve always wanted to explore this relationship in various ways and this is a very quick study that involves one of my ideas.
Today’s prompt: setting: genderbend world
Fandom: The Hobbit Relationships: fem!Thorin x fem!Dwalin Rating:M Warnings: Guess what. Angst. Surpriiiise!
Ohhh I love this! So beautifully written, especially this: “Thorna welcomed Dwala into her arms, and Dwala welcomed Thorna’s braid in her hair; no words were needed that night, there were only tender kisses, sweet like forest berries, sighs soft like spring wind at dawn, gentle caresses falling on their skin like rose petals as they soared together on the wings of love and passion.”
It means a lot coming from you Thank youuu, you’re so sweet!
Here’s today’s fic for the Writer’s Month 2021 challenge (see@writersmonth for more info).
Here I was supposed to treat you with an exquisitely filthy smut piece with dragonsick!Thorin requested by Anon (it was also supposed to contain the other prompt for today, setting: angel/demon AU), but Thorin and Yrsa took over. Sorry, Anon, I hope you won’t be too mad, but I promise to fulfil the request at a later date. Your ask was too naughty and too delicious to ignore!
Today’s prompt: word: dream
I love you, my amazing readers, your support and scomments give me life!
Fandom: The Hobbit Relationships: Thorin x Yrsa (Dwarf Female OC) Rating:T Word count: 2,7 k words Warnings:This is the continuation of the “dystopian au” trope from a few days back; it’s not as cheerful as the previous parts and it contains mentions of bodily harm and sickness (also, I’m not a medical professional, any errors are totally my fault, don’t try this at home, kids, and so on). Also, I’m a bad, bad writer. In case you want anything from me, I’ll be right there, standing in the corner. Love you anyway
A special author’s note for @linasofia: Remember, you gave me a free hand ;) A special author’s note for @xmly-xo:The roast duck is for you! Bon appetit!
Forgive me for any errors in advance, I was in a hurry to finish this rather lengthy chapter on time and I’m barely awake now.
Recap: Yrsa met Thorin a year after the wedding, and there was a baby involved, and he turned out to be a king, and I left you with a cliffhanger. Care to see what happened next?
Khuzdul: Ursarusê - my tiny fire Khaglâ-dûm - Blue Halls (name of a Dwarven settlement shamelessly made up by me)
“Duck!” Thorin shouted. Yrsa lived on the road for too long to disregard the warning and immediately fell to the ground, shielding Ursarusê with her body. An arrow flew through the air above her with a whoosh. That was close. Without thinking, she crawled under the nearest wagon as fast as she could, pushing the basket in front of her. Her weapons were nearby, with her pony, but fighting was out of the question. The little one’s safety came first.
Forest Gold is a story prompted by @tacosockos’s ask. Thank you very much! I hope you’ll like the story as much as I did when I was writing it!
Relationships:Thorin x Reader
Rating:T
Warnings:none
* * *
Forest Gold
The warm sun shone through the canopy of tall pine trees, its rays illuminating the path before you. It was a summer morning, just after dawn, and you were walking through the forest at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Looking around, you admired its natural ancient beauty, the softness of the moss beneath your feet, and enjoyed every breath of the cool, fresh air. Since you arrived in Middle Earth on a stormy night several months ago in mysterious circumstances, you still marveled at how unspoiled the nature in Rhovanion was. No pollution, no empty beer cans in the forests, no cigarette butts, no engine noises. Instead, there were crystal-clear rivers and lakes, plenty of animals everywhere you looked and the lush greenery. Never before have you seen so many shades of green. The newly sprouted blades of grass, the majestic ferns by a creek in the backwoods or the reeds growing by the Long Lake near the city of Esgaroth that was being slowly rebuilt.
Your path led you to a bank of a forest stream. You smiled widely, seeing a glimpse of gold among the grass. There they were! You looked around. Yes, this was a perfect spot for what you had in mind. You rested your travelling gear against the trunk of a nearby tree and approached the patch of wildflowers growing in the watery ground at the edge of the stream, their yellow, almost golden petals seemingly shining with the light of their own. The people of Dale called them “kingcups” and used this plant for medicinal purposes. That is why you came here, at least partially. You promised a local healer to bring her some of these plants. But you had also another idea on your mind.
It took you a while to gather enough flowers to fill your basket. Your boots were a bit soaked, but it was worth it. Your eyes quickly found a patch of grass and your hands started picking out the flower heads and arranging them in a spiral shape on the ground. This was something you used to do with your grandmother in her garden. She’d often say these flower mandalas would draw fairies to them, and if you ever were to meet one, this magical creature would fulfill your wish. You have grown out from believing in fairies years ago, but your habit stayed with you, fueling your creativity. Back home, you’d sometimes make a picture of the finished mandala and upload it to your Instagram, sharing your art with the wide world. You didn’t need much to create art. Nature provided everything you needed.
Humming a half-forgotten song from your childhood as you finished arranging the flowers, you suddenly heard a sound of a snapping branch. Someone was coming. As quickly as you could, you gathered your things and hid in the nearby bushes. The local people warned you against strangers in these parts. After the great Battle of Five Armies that happened over a year ago, a constant stream of travelers flowed into Rhovanion. Those newcomers were searching for better life, but there were brigands among them, too.
Someone entered the clearing in a few long strides. He wasn’t tall, but his posture emanated power and strength. Dark, wavy mane of hair cascaded down his wide shoulders. His bearded face was focused on the surroundings. Judging from the clothes and the bow he held in his hands, he had to be a hunter. And… a dwarf. This was the first dwarf you saw from such a close distance. You heard much about these proud people and their great kingdom of Erebor that was currently being rebuilt, but you had never even talked with one before.
The dwarven hunter took a few steps towards your hideout. A pair of deep-set eyes scanned the area. You held your breath and crouched lower among the bushes, hoping that he wouldn’t notice you. As he turned to his left, his gaze fell on your golden flower mandala. After approaching it, he studied it carefully and then took one of the flowers, bringing it to his nose. As he did so, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You blinked in disbelief. Weren’t the dwarves supposed to be underground folk, loving only stone, metals and precious gems? The last thing you expected today was to see a dwarf enjoying the smell of a delicate forest flower. A flower you arranged yourself.
“Hey! Leave my flowers alone!” you heard your own voice.
In a blink of an eye, he turned to you, his bow aimed at you. Or rather, at your hideout. You muttered a curse. Brilliant, just brilliant.
“Reveal yourself!” You heard his deep voice. So that was how a dwarf sounded like. You had to admit to yourself that hearing him speak made you think of molten dark chocolate, rich and full-flavoured.
You decided not to make a move. The last thing you wanted to do was to be shot by his arrow. It looked kinda… sharp. And something told you that this hunter had a good aim. A sigh escaped your lips. You just had to stay still. Maybe he’d leave you in peace. Maybe. Yeah, right.
“I mean you no harm. You can come out now. I have already put my bow away,” his words reached you. The way he spoke made you think of a horse whisperer trying to calm down a startled steed.
Feeling the taste of defeat in your mouth, you reluctantly came out from your hideout.
“I thought you were a bandit, Master Dwarf,” you admitted. Now, when you had the chance to take a better look at him, you could clearly see that he didn’t look like a brigand at all. His weapons and clothes were of good quality, and he wore several rings on his strong hands. Those rings definitely weren’t trinkets bought at a village fair. The dwarf looked more like a proud, ancient warrior than anything else.
“There are no bandits in the forests of the Lonely Mountain, my lady,” he shook his head. You heard the jingling of the silver beads in his hair, sunrays dancing among them. A peculiar thought appeared in your mind. What would be like to run your hand through this rich mane of hair? It looked so soft… Would he let you make a braid? Just like the ones that hung from his temples, falling all the way to his chest. You felt your cheeks burning up. What on earth made you think of such things about an unknown dwarf you’ve just met?
“I’m not a lady,” you stated. You’ve never been called a lady before, and especially not by a courteous dwarf.
“Who are you then?” his brilliant blue eyes set on your face. “A forest fairy protecting her magic circle?”
The dwarf pointed at your flower mandala.
You chuckled, “There’s nothing magical about my flower art. It’s meant to be looked at and enjoyed.”
“Are you sure?” he tilted his head and took a step towards you. Your eyes moved upwards, sliding along the intricate embroideries on his tunic hugging against the deep contours of his chest. The garment revealed a small patch of tanned skin at his throat, emphasizing his muscular neck. His strongly defined jaw was covered with a lush beard that hid a surprisingly soft line of his lips. The patrician nose set above it made you think of the gigantic dwarven sculptures that guarded the entrance to the kingdom of Erebor. And then there were his eyes, those twin mysterious cerulean pools that kept on searching your face. “There is an old legend among my people about the forests of the Lonely Mountain. They say that you can sometimes find a flower fairy ring here. If the time is right, its magic will take you wherever your heart longs to go.”
“It is a beautiful legend, but that’s all there is to it. An old tale,” you replied. Even a baby knew that there was no such thing as magic. And no, the way you arrived to this new, wonderous world had nothing to do with magic whatsoever. You were sure that science could explain it well. Perhaps a lightning struck too close to you that night, and there was a shift in the magnetic fields, and this was simply a parallel universe or…
A chuckle brought you back to reality.
“As you wish, my lady. Forgive me my manners, this unexpected meeting made me forget them completely,” he made a courteous bow. “My name is Thorin. May I ask how I should address you?”
You gulped. Your name was too unusual and too modern for this place. If the dwarf heard it, it would happen just like it did in Esgaroth and several other places. The locals weren’t fond of weird strangers. There would be strange looks, prying questions and tons of suspicion. Somehow, you didn’t want the majestic dwarf in front of you to look at you the way they did. You had to think of something.
“My name… Wait, did you say Thorin? As in Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain?!” even you, a newcomer to Middle Earth, heard about the dwarven king who led a bold charge against the Orc and Warg armies and defeated them, taking the life of their leader, Azog.
“These are just titles. Here, today, in the forest, I’m just Thorin, my lady without a name,” he smiled, but you could see a shadow passing his eyes, fleeting and deep.
Your mind barely registered his gaze, busy processing the current situation. You, a girl from far, far away, were standing in the presence of a real king! And a dwarf! What were you supposed to do? Bow? Curtsy? Call him “your majesty”? Or was it “your highness”? No, he said he was “just Thorin”. Pheew. But were you allowed to sit down in his presence? Or speak without being asked to? Oh, wait, he asked you a question and you haven’t answered it yet!
“I come from a faraway land. My name may sound alien to you and… and difficult to pronounce!” you blurted out.
“Would you allow me to call you Kingcup, my lady? Like these golden flowers?” his eyes traveled to the mandala you created on the ground.
“Kingcup…” you whispered to yourself, looking at the flower petals glistening in the sun.
“These flowers… We call them ‘forest gold’. Small and delicate, but sturdy. They run through the woods like veins of gold through the stone. And their reflections in water make forest streams look like molten gold,” his voice washed over you like smoothest silk.
“I think I can live with a name like that,” you smiled shyly at him.
“You do me a great honor, lady Kingcup,” his voice deepened, rumbling in his chest.
“I told you, king Thorin, I’m not a lady.”
“If you are not a lady then I am not a king,” he stated, responding to your smile with an amused glint in his eye.
“Sounds fair to me… Thorin,” you whispered his name, barely able to look into his eyes, hoping he would not mind your casual way of speaking to the king of the famous dwarven kingdom. He nodded in return.
“Since we are properly introduced now, may I invite you for breakfast? I must admit I haven’t eaten today yet and my friend Bombur, a brilliant cook, prepared some delicious scones with cheese for the road. I will gladly share them with you.”
The thought of a meal made your stomach rumble and you agreed almost instantly. The breakfast turned into a brunch when you discovered that you both were well equipped with delicious food. While you ate, you talked about everything and nothing; you were curious about Erebor, and Thorin asked about your recent travels through Rhovanion. You even shared a few amusing anecdotes from your lives and you quickly forgot you were spending time in the company of a king. To be honest, it felt as if you’d known each other for ages, sharing several interests, including the love of nature, both above and below ground.
“So you say that the dwarves think gold is the most precious metal?” you swallowed the last bite of smoked cheese.
“A metal worthy of kings,” Thorin nodded, taking a sip from his water bag.
“What about forest gold?” you gestured towards the flowers in your basket, the ones that you gathered in the morning.
“It is the most precious part of the forest… Kingcup…” his glittering blue eyes traveled to your face and you had to look away. Did he mean the flowers…. Or…?
“Close your eyes, please,” you said suddenly, a new and crazy idea popping in your head.
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you close your eyes, I’ll show you the treasure of the forest,” you grinned mischievously. “It will just take a moment. Please?”
Apparently Thorin couldn’t say no to the pleading look on your face and capitulated. You reached towards the basket and soon your hands were working swiftly, binding the flowers together.
“Can I look now?” he asked, his back resting against the tree behind him.
“Patience,” you giggled. Your new “work of art” was ready. You moved towards Thorin and placed the golden flower crown on his temple. Your hand brushed against his hair. It was pleasantly soft under your touch. As you took a breath, a smell of pine needles, bonfire smoke and leather surrounded you. You expected a mighty king to smell like precious oils and heavy, exotic flower essences. Instead, his scent was simple, raw, and manly, and quickly went to your head. Looking at his calm features, all the worries gone from his handsome face, you almost missed the moment when he opened his eyes. You were kneeling next to him, your hands resting at his temples along with the flower crown. His face was surprisingly close to yours. You felt the warmth of his body and could almost brush your nose against his. Uh-oh. You swallowed. He blinked.
“What do we have here?” he cast a half-lidded glance at you and moved his hands to his head.
“Something worthy of a king. The golden crown of the forest,” you chuckled, recalling your idea, and desperately trying to forget the way his skin brushed against yours as he reached for the flower crown, and the pleasant sensation you felt. “No, no, don’t take it off! Come with me!”
You got up and quickly marched to the edge of the stream. Thorin joined you after a few moments.
“You are not going to drown me, are you?” he raised one of his dark eyebrows suspiciously, a smile dancing on his lips. It suited him well.
“It depends on how you are going to react to my gift!” you giggled. “Now, look into the water and tell me what you think!”
“It is truly a golden crown,” the dwarven king stared into his reflection in the stream and chuckled. “Who would have thought that the forest was full of such riches? I thank you kindly for this generous gift, Kingcup.”
“You like it? What a relief! I don’t have to drown you, then. All is well!” you grinned and then both of you burst out in laughter. Somehow, it felt good laughing beside him. It felt right.
“And to think such a treasure came from under your skilled fingers! I have been lucky to have met you here today. You are magical indeed, just like your fairy ring,” he winked at you, looking more like a playful young dwarf than a king.
“I tell you, this is just a flower arrangement, not a magical place!” you protested.
“There is only one way to find out, isn’t there?” he smirked and reached out his hand to you.
“Very well,” you agreed with a sigh and placed your hand in his. He squeezed it gently but reassuringly, smiling at you, as you both stepped inside your golden flower mandala.
There was a splash of emotion in his eyes when he said, “Let us see where your magic takes us.”
You barely managed to close your eyes when a warm breath of wind caressed your face and suddenly you felt dizzy. A sensation of falling flooded your senses. A few heartbeats later everything stopped. In the surrounding silence, you could only hear your and Thorin quickened breaths. You still felt how warm his skin was, his fingers wrapped around your palms.
“Is it done?” you asked, not daring to open your eyes yet.
“It is. Your magic is truly astonishing,” Thorin replied, and you recognized notes of admiration in his voice.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his face. He was smiling, and there was something new in his expression; something that you couldn’t decipher.
And then you looked around.
“But we’re still in the same place!” you exclaimed. “It was just as I told you, there is no magic here.”
“Ah but there is. Your magic,” he looked at you expectantly, his features softening.
“My… magic?” you frowned. What did he mean by that? And why did he close the distance between you? Oh, and why did he raise your hand to his lips, kissing it reverently? By the way, his lips turned out to be even softer than you imagined, and even warmer, almost scorching.
“Your magic worked perfectly well,” he murmured huskily, his breath fanning the delicate skin on the back of your hand. “It brought me to the place my heart longed to be, sweet Kingcup.”
“And where is that?” you whispered back, trying to find the answer in the bottomless depths of his cerulean eyes. And then you heard his voice.
“By the side of my forest queen.”
* * *
Don’t forget to let me know what you think about this story!
Happy Midsummer weekend to all who are celebrating!
You know how on Midsummer you are supposed to gather seven different flowers or herbs and put them under your pillow to dream about the person you are going to spend your life with?
I’ve been talking with @linasofia about how Midsummer would look in Erebor. I got a little bit inspired, and this is how this fic came to be. Thank you for the inspo and for your support
Let me know how you like it. If this little story catches your interest, I may write more, so let me know if I should continue!
Rating:G
* * *
Thistle. A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Thorin, let’s go! Frerin is waiting for us! He has already left!” Dis tugged at Thorin’s sleeve.
“Patience, let us wait for a better moment,” he leaned towards her and whispered.
They were sitting at a large table in the Main Hall of Erebor, surrounded by song, dance, festive music, delicious food, and happy Dwarves. The whole Erebor was celebrating Midsummer. Everyone was there, even their Grandfather. King Thror had been lately avoiding the crowds and spending more and more time in the treasure chamber, which worried Thorin immensely. Now however, his long, elegantly coiffed silver beard glistened with beads and precious gems, and he seemed as cheerful as he used to when Thorin and his siblings were tiny pebbles sitting on his lap and playing with his crown. It warmed Thorin’s heart to see his Grandfather smiling once again, without that ominous dark frown on his face.
The King stood up and proposed a toast to the prosperity of the kingdom. Cheers and merriment followed, and in the commotion, Thorin and Dis managed to sneak out, leaving the sounds of the feast behind them.
“Do you think Frerin asked Dvala to join us?” Dis wondered as they were walking along one of the corridors leading out of the Mountain. Thorin frowned, “I thought we agreed on keeping this silly idea a secret.”
“Oh, come on, Brother, do not be so gloomy!” she nudged him with her elbow. “You can survive one evening of fun in a good company. Dvala is a sweet girl, I am quite fond of her!”
“Frerin should focus on his mining apprenticeship, not on girls.”
“Just like you are focusing on your dwarven law studies by training with Dwalin instead?”
They took a turn and walked down the staircase that led to the gates of Erebor. Frerin was supposed to meet them nearby. Thorin grunted, “Grandfather says he expects his heirs to be well-versed in many different…”
“You’re such a bore, Thorin! There’s more to life than duties and studying,” his sister insisted, making him groan inwardly. “You will see, one day you are going to meet a lovely girl who will steal your heart and show you that there are more things to life than musty old tomes and swords.”
“I doubt it. I do not wish to complicate my life with affairs of the heart. I am expected to wed someone chosen by Mother and Grandmother. My marriage has to benefit our kingdom. Now, we need strong allies more than ever,” a shadow passed Thorin’s face at the thought of the recent serious disagreement their grandfather had with his brother Gror, the lord of the Iron Hills, ceasing diplomatic relations between both dwarven strongholds. And then, there was that catastrophe of an audience when King Thror suddenly refused to hand over the necklace made of the Gems of Lasgalen to King Thranduil. As it turned out, the ruler of the Woodland Realm hadn’t planned to pay for the work of dwarven master jewelers in the first place, but Thorin had seen King Thror solving more delicate issues without any problems before. Now, whenever he looked into the eyes of his Grandfather, he saw only darkness and greed. But not tonight. Tonight they sparkled with joy, and that was a blessing from Mahal.
“Stop talking about politics, Brother!” Dis scolded him once again. “It’s Midsummer today, have you forgotten? We are going to sneak out of the Mountain, gather seven different flowers, make wreaths out of them, and then…”
I love the dynamics between Thorin, Dis, and Frerin. They are adorable together; it’s so nice to see them enjoying themselves and acting like kids without any danger ahead.
And the dream!! I’m so intrigued! I especially loved this line: “It seems like a wondrous place to live at,” she confessed, bringing a delicate white flower to her nose and smelling it with her eyes closed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He wanted to smell it together with her. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. And he forgot that he was supposed to dislike flowers.” Thorin, you cutie!!
I’m always looking forward your comments @legolasbadass, thank you so much for reading and reblogging
And yes, young prince Thorin is still idealistic and meeting this mysterious maiden hit him hard ☺️ Let’s hope he doesn’t lose his head completely!
Happy Midsummer weekend to all who are celebrating!
You know how on Midsummer you are supposed to gather seven different flowers or herbs and put them under your pillow to dream about the person you are going to spend your life with?
I’ve been talking with @linasofia about how Midsummer would look in Erebor. I got a little bit inspired, and this is how this fic came to be. Thank you for the inspo and for your support
Let me know how you like it. If this little story catches your interest, I may write more, so let me know if I should continue!
Rating:G
* * *
Thistle. A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Thorin, let’s go! Frerin is waiting for us! He has already left!” Dis tugged at Thorin’s sleeve.
“Patience, let us wait for a better moment,” he leaned towards her and whispered.
They were sitting at a large table in the Main Hall of Erebor, surrounded by song, dance, festive music, delicious food, and happy Dwarves. The whole Erebor was celebrating Midsummer. Everyone was there, even their Grandfather. King Thror had been lately avoiding the crowds and spending more and more time in the treasure chamber, which worried Thorin immensely. Now however, his long, elegantly coiffed silver beard glistened with beads and precious gems, and he seemed as cheerful as he used to when Thorin and his siblings were tiny pebbles sitting on his lap and playing with his crown. It warmed Thorin’s heart to see his Grandfather smiling once again, without that ominous dark frown on his face.
The King stood up and proposed a toast to the prosperity of the kingdom. Cheers and merriment followed, and in the commotion, Thorin and Dis managed to sneak out, leaving the sounds of the feast behind them.
“Do you think Frerin asked Dvala to join us?” Dis wondered as they were walking along one of the corridors leading out of the Mountain. Thorin frowned, “I thought we agreed on keeping this silly idea a secret.”
“Oh, come on, Brother, do not be so gloomy!” she nudged him with her elbow. “You can survive one evening of fun in a good company. Dvala is a sweet girl, I am quite fond of her!”
“Frerin should focus on his mining apprenticeship, not on girls.”
“Just like you are focusing on your dwarven law studies by training with Dwalin instead?”
They took a turn and walked down the staircase that led to the gates of Erebor. Frerin was supposed to meet them nearby. Thorin grunted, “Grandfather says he expects his heirs to be well-versed in many different…”
“You’re such a bore, Thorin! There’s more to life than duties and studying,” his sister insisted, making him groan inwardly. “You will see, one day you are going to meet a lovely girl who will steal your heart and show you that there are more things to life than musty old tomes and swords.”
“I doubt it. I do not wish to complicate my life with affairs of the heart. I am expected to wed someone chosen by Mother and Grandmother. My marriage has to benefit our kingdom. Now, we need strong allies more than ever,” a shadow passed Thorin’s face at the thought of the recent serious disagreement their grandfather had with his brother Gror, the lord of the Iron Hills, ceasing diplomatic relations between both dwarven strongholds. And then, there was that catastrophe of an audience when King Thror suddenly refused to hand over the necklace made of the Gems of Lasgalen to King Thranduil. As it turned out, the ruler of the Woodland Realm hadn’t planned to pay for the work of dwarven master jewelers in the first place, but Thorin had seen King Thror solving more delicate issues without any problems before. Now, whenever he looked into the eyes of his Grandfather, he saw only darkness and greed. But not tonight. Tonight they sparkled with joy, and that was a blessing from Mahal.
“Stop talking about politics, Brother!” Dis scolded him once again. “It’s Midsummer today, have you forgotten? We are going to sneak out of the Mountain, gather seven different flowers, make wreaths out of them, and then…”
Honey… You know that it would catch our interest! Everything you write does, tbh!
I love this so much! Thorin, Frerin and Dis’ dynamic was amazing! How Dis has her older brothers (and Dwalin) wrapped around her little finger through her genius shenanigans is absolute perfection!
Their encounter through the dream left me wanting for more. When would they meet? How? Who is she, after all? Because we have only her name and looks.
I can’t wait for another chapter!
Ahhh now I’m blushing and don’t know to say!
Thank you so much @justfollowtheroad for your wonderful words of encouragement, I’ll definitely keep in mind what you like and think of it when planning to fill the next chapter :) It may contain more info about Saga from the elven realm.
Happy Midsummer weekend to all who are celebrating!
You know how on Midsummer you are supposed to gather seven different flowers or herbs and put them under your pillow to dream about the person you are going to spend your life with?
I’ve been talking with @linasofia about how Midsummer would look in Erebor. I got a little bit inspired, and this is how this fic came to be. Thank you for the inspo and for your support
Let me know how you like it. If this little story catches your interest, I may write more, so let me know if I should continue!
Rating:G
* * *
Thistle. A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Thorin, let’s go! Frerin is waiting for us! He has already left!” Dis tugged at Thorin’s sleeve.
“Patience, let us wait for a better moment,” he leaned towards her and whispered.
They were sitting at a large table in the Main Hall of Erebor, surrounded by song, dance, festive music, delicious food, and happy Dwarves. The whole Erebor was celebrating Midsummer. Everyone was there, even their Grandfather. King Thror had been lately avoiding the crowds and spending more and more time in the treasure chamber, which worried Thorin immensely. Now however, his long, elegantly coiffed silver beard glistened with beads and precious gems, and he seemed as cheerful as he used to when Thorin and his siblings were tiny pebbles sitting on his lap and playing with his crown. It warmed Thorin’s heart to see his Grandfather smiling once again, without that ominous dark frown on his face.
The King stood up and proposed a toast to the prosperity of the kingdom. Cheers and merriment followed, and in the commotion, Thorin and Dis managed to sneak out, leaving the sounds of the feast behind them.
“Do you think Frerin asked Dvala to join us?” Dis wondered as they were walking along one of the corridors leading out of the Mountain. Thorin frowned, “I thought we agreed on keeping this silly idea a secret.”
“Oh, come on, Brother, do not be so gloomy!” she nudged him with her elbow. “You can survive one evening of fun in a good company. Dvala is a sweet girl, I am quite fond of her!”
“Frerin should focus on his mining apprenticeship, not on girls.”
“Just like you are focusing on your dwarven law studies by training with Dwalin instead?”
They took a turn and walked down the staircase that led to the gates of Erebor. Frerin was supposed to meet them nearby. Thorin grunted, “Grandfather says he expects his heirs to be well-versed in many different…”
“You’re such a bore, Thorin! There’s more to life than duties and studying,” his sister insisted, making him groan inwardly. “You will see, one day you are going to meet a lovely girl who will steal your heart and show you that there are more things to life than musty old tomes and swords.”
“I doubt it. I do not wish to complicate my life with affairs of the heart. I am expected to wed someone chosen by Mother and Grandmother. My marriage has to benefit our kingdom. Now, we need strong allies more than ever,” a shadow passed Thorin’s face at the thought of the recent serious disagreement their grandfather had with his brother Gror, the lord of the Iron Hills, ceasing diplomatic relations between both dwarven strongholds. And then, there was that catastrophe of an audience when King Thror suddenly refused to hand over the necklace made of the Gems of Lasgalen to King Thranduil. As it turned out, the ruler of the Woodland Realm hadn’t planned to pay for the work of dwarven master jewelers in the first place, but Thorin had seen King Thror solving more delicate issues without any problems before. Now, whenever he looked into the eyes of his Grandfather, he saw only darkness and greed. But not tonight. Tonight they sparkled with joy, and that was a blessing from Mahal.
“Stop talking about politics, Brother!” Dis scolded him once again. “It’s Midsummer today, have you forgotten? We are going to sneak out of the Mountain, gather seven different flowers, make wreaths out of them, and then…”
“Only if you’re going to make the wreaths for us, Dis!” Frerin exclaimed, jumping from behind one of the green marble columns.
“Do you want everyone to hear us, you clot?!” she hissed, making Thorin smirk. Dis wasn’t of battle age yet, but she already started resembling their mother more and more, growing just as fearless and fierce. She rested her fists on her hips, stomped her foot, and declared, “You are going to make your midsummer wreaths yourselves! That’s what the tradition says!” “Remind me, brother, why are we doing this?” Frerin rolled his eyes and looked at Thorin helplessly.
“Dis bribed you shamelessly, and I… may have lost a bet,” Thorin admitted reluctantly. Indeed, he made a bet with his sweet, little, supposedly innocent sister. A simple bet, and a very stupid one. He still couldn’t believe he let himself be tricked so easily. Dis was supposed to challenge Dwalin to an arm-wrestling match. If she were to win, Thorin would fulfill her wish. Just one simple wish. But if she were to lose, she would write a two-scroll essay on the history of settlement in the Blue Mountains for him, a week’s worth of work. He hated history, but his tutor was very exigent. Besides, since Dwalin was a formidable arm-wrestler, Thorin was sure his best friend would win. To his dismay, Dwalin didn’t, and Thorin still had trouble wrapping his mind around that fact. Dis. Won an arm-wrestling match. With Dwalin, one of the strongest Dwarves he knew. He still remembered how Dwalin grinned at him in triumph, pushing her arm down slowly, but then Dis gasped quietly. Dwalin looked at her as she said, or rather purred, “Oh, my, you are really strong!”, and then she batted her eyelashes. This was enough for the mighty Dwalin: distracted, he loosened his grip – and that was exactly what Dis was waiting for: she slammed his arm down in a blink of an eye.
And now Thorin had to fulfill his little sister’s wish and follow her out of the Mountain instead of drinking ale with Dwalin and discussing his latest axe design. Who would have thought that younger sisters were such a menace?
“You are doing this because you are my beloved brothers and care for me greatly,” Dis grinned and added with a wink. “We can’t win with her, Thorin, can we?” Frerin looked at him pleadingly.
“A warrior knows when a battle is lost. We must wait for a better opportunity to counterattack,” he offered, making an imitation of Lord Fundin and his lectures on war strategy, causing his brother to chuckle.
When all three of them finally found themselves on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain, the summer evening surrounded them with warmth. Scents of nature wafted into Thorin’s nose. It was long after sunset, but the surroundings were bathed in the silvery light of the moon. In the clear air, Thorin could see the silver ribbon of the River Running below and the distant lights of Dale. “Granny says it’s the perfect time for picking the midsummer flowers!” Dis announced behind him. Frerin groaned in despair and followed her, but Thorin didn’t move. Perhaps if he pretended he hadn’t heard her she would let him be, he thought. “Thorin! You lost the bet, remember?” his sister addressed him pointedly and he had to capitulate.
“I do. Something tells me that you will never let me forget about it for as long as we live,” Thorin offered, disheartened. It turned out that picking flowers was much easier than he thought. Besides, he wanted to be done with that silly flower business as soon as possible and return back to the Mountain.
“So, Frerin, why haven’t you invited Dvala tonight?” Dis asked in a light-hearted tone after they wreaked sufficient havoc on the meadow. She was busy weaving her wreath that consisted of lots of red, yellow, and blue flowers. Thorin hadn’t the slightest idea what each of them was called nor did he care. After a pause, Frerin responded, sticking his tongue out as he tried to copy her movements, working on a bunch of pink flowers, “I did, but her aunt wouldn’t let her go.” “Oh, bother, that aunt of hers. Oh, I know!” Dis smiled mischievously, “I will talk with Mother, and she will invite them both for a picnic, so you and Dvala can…” Thorin’s sister’s voice drifted off into the air as he shook his head, focusing on his own cursed wreath. After having his fingers assaulted with thorns, he came to the conclusion that neither thistle nor blackthorn twigs were the best choices for this pointless task. “Great! Now, put your wreaths on your heads and show me how you look!” Dis ordered. Thorin raised an eyebrow, “Is this really necessary?” “Dwalin says that if you give me any problems, he will stop training with you!” she crossed her arms across her chest. “Traitor,” Thorin muttered. He expected many things but not his best friend taking his sister’s side.
“Are you surprised, Thorin?” Frerin chuckled, putting his pink wreath on his head and making a funny face. “You should have seen them both in the northern passage! Oh, Dwalin, those flowers are so pretty! – Not as pretty as ye are!” He imitated Dis’ and Dwalin’s voices and then proceeded to make kissing noises.
“Be quiet, Frerin, or I’ll tell Mother that I’ve found Principles of Love and Lust under your bed!” Dis furrowed her brow. It was interesting, Thorin observed, to see how Frerin’s face turned from pale to strawberry red. And as for Dis and the kissing noises, he decided to procure a cask of ale and visit Dwalin to assess the intentions that he might have towards his little sister. They will either drink the ale together or he would smash the wooden cask on his best friend’s stupid head. That thought put him in a somewhat better mood.
“Tell me, sister, how do I look?” Thorin put that misery of a wreath on his head. The things he has to endure for his siblings.
“Thorin!” she clasped her hands and beamed. Thorin tried to ignore Frerin’s chuckling from behind. “You look stunning! Like the Forest King in his flower crown!” “Are you telling me I look like the ruler of Mirkwood? Like an elf?” he huffed. “Not at all, silly! More like one of those fairy tale creatures, with horns, furry legs, and hooves. Like a grumpy satyr!” giggling, she closed the distance between them, stood on her tiptoes, and placed a wet, affectionate kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.
“How long are we supposed to wear those wreaths?” Frerin said before Thorin could say anything.
“Until you go to bed tonight. Make sure to put them under your pillows and then each of you is going to dream about the love of your life. At least that is what Granny says!” Dis explained, putting her own wreath on her head.
“That means Thorin is going to dream of Deathless and his anvil!” Frerin sniggered.
***
Thorin hadn’t given much thought to his sister’s last words until he returned to his chambers. Getting ready to retire for the night, he removed the prickly wreath from his head with a grunt as it turned out to be entangled in his braids. It took him a while to separate his hair from the stems, twigs, and flowers and Thorin solemnly promised himself to comb and wash his hair properly first thing in the morning. Falling on his bed in exhaustion, he managed to put the mutilated plants under his pillow, just like he promised his sister. And in the morning, he would have a serious talk with Dwalin.
Sleep came to him quickly, mere moments after he closed his eyes.
He stood at the edge of a forest clearing, breathless. She was there, sitting with her back towards him, in the middle of a runestone circle. He could make out the shapes and Khuzdul runes carved into them, but he paid them no heed, his eyes drawn to her bright silhouette. Bathed in sunlight, she seemed like a glowing, luminous being and not a… dwarf maiden. Clad in a long white gown, with a flower wreath and a couple of simple braids adorning her flowing hair that made him think of pale marble with gold veins, she seemed like a benevolent spectre from another world, like a glittering pearl found at the bottom of the sea.
And then he realized she was singing. A soothing, soulful melody reached both his ears and his heart, and it was as if the day became even brighter, the air even clearer, and he felt a sweet taste in his mouth as if he had been drinking the sweetest mead.
Wanting to hear her voice better, Thorin took a step forward, but the song suddenly stopped.
“Who are you?” she turned towards him and asked in a gentle voice, a curious smile dancing on her lips.
“Thorin, son of Thrain, my lady,” he made a customary bow and approached the circle.
“A dwarf… here?” she tilted her head.
“You seem surprised, my lady,” he replied, trying not to think of how bright her eyes were and how pink and full her lips were against her sun-kissed cheeks. “Indeed I am. No one ever comes here, only me,” she said absentmindedly. “Then I am honored to be your first guest,” he added quickly. “Welcome to my meadow, Thorin, son of Thrain,” after a hesitant pause, the maiden stood up and curtsied elegantly, as if she was in Erebor’s throne room and not in the middle of an ancient forest.
She gestured at him to enter the stone circle and asked him to sit down beside her, just before she lowered herself gracefully on the grass. His heart was beating fast, but he moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to startle her, as if he was on a hunt and she was a prized doe.
“Tell me where you come from, Thorin, son of Thrain. Tell me of your homeland,” she whispered, and he noticed a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. It was at that moment that he realized that her eyes were green as priceless emeralds, like the soft grass beneath them, and he drowned in the boundless sea of her gaze completely.
He spoke of the kingdom of Erebor, of its beauty and wealth, of the skilled miners, jewelers, and stonemasons. He spoke of the wonders hidden deep inside of the Mountain and of the breathtaking view from its top. And she listened and listened like no one ever before has listened to him, and she asked insightful questions, and wanted to know more and more. “It seems like a wondrous place to live at,” she confessed, bringing a delicate white flower to her nose and smelling it with her eyes closed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He wanted to smell it together with her. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. And he forgot that he was supposed to dislike flowers. “If you ever happen to travel to Rhovanion, it will be my pleasure to show you the beauty of Erebor,” he offered with an encouraging smile. The thought of walking beside her through the endless passages of the Mountain and having her smile back at him just the way she was smiling now was making him almost dizzy with inexplicable joy. This is what he wanted more than anything else.
She nodded in reply, and the blush on her lovely cheeks deepened, and his heart skipped a beat.
“May I ask you something, Master Thorin?” her sweet voice reached his ears. Hearing her speak his name, as she wrapped her shapely mouth around it, made his breath hitch. He didn’t even notice that she hadn’t called him ‘my lord’, as it was customary since he was a prince. He didn’t care. She simply glanced at him shyly from under her eyelids and it was everything he needed, and more. “Do all the dwarves of Erebor have as unruly hair as you do?” her question rang in the air, her eyes glittering with mischief. Trying to mask his surprise, he ran his hand through his hair, realizing that he had his wreath on his head only when his fingers bumped against its prickly surface. His hair underneath seemed indeed tousled and unkempt. Thorin grunted, feeling warmth spilling on his cheeks. That was not the first impression he was hoping for.
“Forgive me, my lady, I must look like a wild beast to you.” “You are too well-mannered to be a beast, Master Thorin,” she giggled. “But wild, yes, I have to agree with you.” That will teach me not to pick thistle for my midsummer wreath. A truly useless plant,” he shook his head and chuckled.
“I was rather happy to see your head adorned with these flowers. As you can see,” she pointed at her own wreath,” I too chose thistle. My hosts say that it is prickly and unpleasant to touch, but it symbolizes bravery, strength, and determination. A thistle wreath becomes you.” Thorin had to stop himself from puffing up his chest proudly, trying to convince himself it was simply courteous flattery, nothing more. “I thank you for your kind words, my lady. May I ask who your hosts are? Does this forest,” he gestured around them, “not belong to you?” “Not at all, Master Thorin,” she shook her head, pale golden locks spilling down her shoulders, making him want to run his fingers through the soft sea of her hair. “We are in an elven realm called… In Khuzdul, we would say ‘The Flower of Dreams’. We are dreaming, so it sounds very fitting, do you not think?” “Yes… it does. We are indeed dreaming, are we not?” he spoke slowly as the realization washed over him. This was indeed a dream, he remembered clearly the moment when he fell asleep in his bed in Erebor. What was surprising, this dream felt more coherent, more vivid than any other dream he had before. He smelled the sweet scent of flowers in the air, he touched the soft grass, he heard the birds chirping, and he saw a lovely maiden’s face in front of him, so real that he had to ignore the sudden urge to kiss her soft lips. Yes, this dream was different. “It is the Midsummer Night, the night of wonders and magic,” she nodded. “You said this place lies in an elven realm. Is it elven magic that brought me here?” Thorin frowned. He knew the history of his people, he read of the great friendship between the great artisan of Durin’s folk, Narvi, and the elven prince Celebrimor, of the creation of the Doors of Durin. His Grandfather’s dealings with the king of the Woodland Realm, however, taught him to be suspicious of elven intentions. Silvery laughter rang in the air. “Neither of us has pointy ears, Master Thorin. I have never heard of dwarves dabbling in elven magic. Or are you an elven wizard in disguise?” Thorin chuckled, “Not that I know of.” “Then it very well may be dwarven magic, the magic of Mahal and Kaminzabdûna bequeathed upon us on this very night. Or perhaps it is just an exceptionally vivid dream, nothing more,” she offered, looking away, her small hands resting in her lap idly, the flower forgotten between them. “No, my lady, you are not a dream, you cannot be merely a figment of my imagination!” he protested vehemently and, on the spur of the moment, he took her hand into his. Her skin was cool under his touch, but as soon as their fingers met, a tingling sensation rushed through his body.
She gasped, “Have you felt it too…?” Thorin looked into her widened eyes, her lips parted in astonishment, her hair glowing like a halo around her head. “As well as if I were wide awake, my–” he interrupted, bringing her delicate hand to his lips and kissed it gently, reverently.
“May I know what I shall call you, my lady?” Her melodic voice reached his ears in a whisper as if she was entrusting him with her greatest secret, “My name is Saga.”
Thorin opened his eyes. His chest heaved. He took a deep breath. It was dark, except for the faint light of a forgotten candle. Instantly he knew where he was. His bedchamber in Erebor. He closed his eyes again, hoping to return to that meadow, to her. To no avail. Sleep wouldn’t come. He felt hot. Something prickled against the skin of his palm. Thorin brought his closed hand to his eyes, but before he opened it, he knew what he was about to see.
A thistle flower.
* * *
Read it? Like it? Spread love and reblog it!
Feel like reading more of my stories? Check out my masterlist.
Summary: After your encounter with Thorin, you both have to force yourselves to remain professional to keep your relationship a secret from your colleagues, which is proving to be a challenge.
Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)
Words:3,1K
Warnings:18+
A/N: This is the fourth part of Business & Pleasure. You can read the previous parts here.
Special thanks to @legolasbadass for doing the beta reading and @lathalea for valuable feedback.
The cold surface of the wooden door presses hard against my shoulders as Thorin traps me with his broad chest. His kiss is eager and his strength renewed, like the memory of our combined high is mysteriously erased from his memory. I let my hands run over his shirt that is now tucked properly down in his navy trousers and our heated kiss turns to soft giggles as we force our lips apart. He gives me a challenging but playful bite on my lower lip, and I breathe in his intoxicating scent and hug him tightly. Then he rests his forehead tenderly against mine. I don’t want to leave, but I hear myself say, ”I need to go now, I can’t stay here all morning.” The disappointed look in his azure eyes makes me want to seal the door, ignore everything beyond it and succumb to him once more. But then he smiles softly and nods. ”It’s probably for the best. Mahal knows what will happen if you stay.”
I want to work there please. Are they hiring? Specifically the blond Marketing Director? I’m a great PA
The yearning. The lust that is fuelled again after just being extinguished. The sexy secrets behind closed doors
I felt like I was in the room with everyone with how vivid your descriptions of everything are! You never cease to amaze me with this stuff.
Hands down my favourite part was after the meeting though, when the mighty and majestic CEO got a boner and couldn’t leave I love that she has that control over him, even if she feels so out of control herself.
I’m so thrilled that you’ve continued this series!! And now I’m torn again between CEO Thorin or vampire Richard being my favourite….
Summary: After your encounter with Thorin, you both have to force yourselves to remain professional to keep your relationship a secret from your colleagues, which is proving to be a challenge.
Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)
Words:3,1K
Warnings:18+
A/N: This is the fourth part of Business & Pleasure. You can read the previous parts here.
Special thanks to @legolasbadass for doing the beta reading and @lathalea for valuable feedback.
The cold surface of the wooden door presses hard against my shoulders as Thorin traps me with his broad chest. His kiss is eager and his strength renewed, like the memory of our combined high is mysteriously erased from his memory. I let my hands run over his shirt that is now tucked properly down in his navy trousers and our heated kiss turns to soft giggles as we force our lips apart. He gives me a challenging but playful bite on my lower lip, and I breathe in his intoxicating scent and hug him tightly. Then he rests his forehead tenderly against mine. I don’t want to leave, but I hear myself say, ”I need to go now, I can’t stay here all morning.” The disappointed look in his azure eyes makes me want to seal the door, ignore everything beyond it and succumb to him once more. But then he smiles softly and nods. ”It’s probably for the best. Mahal knows what will happen if you stay.”
Oh, the wait was well worth is. I loved that Kili got so much screen time I have a feeling that he will be the first to find out when they can’t keep it a secret. It was very entertaining and hot
Tone:Antagonistic allies to lovers, vaguely canon divergent, they’re both way too stubborn for their own good; bickering, worrying, and a wee bit of flirting
Summary:She’s finally had enough of his criticisms towards every little thing she does and storms off into the night. Hours pass and the Company begins to get antsy, none more so than the one who caused her departure.
The night was warm, though cooler than it had been these last few weeks. Summer was coming to an end. The Wilds were upon the Company of Thorin Oakenshield- or rather, they were upon the Wilds. Orcs and wargs growled and howled at the moonlight, their calls on the edges of hearing but no less spine-chilling. Each member of the Company, warrior or otherwise, knew to be warier with each passing day. The further they went into these lands, the lesser safety they maintained. Amaranth Burrowes was a stranger to these parts, but even a hobbit such as herself knew where to step, how to watch the sun, when to keep an eye out for brigands and when to focus on the inner workings of her party. Tonight was one of the latter occasions; she had been enlisted to help with the campsite set-up. Unfortunately, luck seemed to have left her, and her companions began to wonder amongst themselves.
“Should we help her?”
“She’s been at it for fifteen minutes.”
“Give her time.” Balin eyed the newest member of their company, struggling to light a stack of sticks into a suitable fire. “She knows what she’s doing better than you think.”
Thorin’s patience, however, came nowhere near the depth of his white-bearded friend’s.
“Turn them faster.”
Amaranth looked up from the two twigs she was spinning together, blowing a streak of hair out of her eyes. Distracted, she lost her grip and one of the twigs faltered. With a sharp grumble, she resituated it and began anew.
“No, no- Durin’s beard, do you not know how to light a fire?”
“I do,” she replied, temper rising under his scrutiny. “It isn’t my fault the rains came last night.”
Climbing the foothills of the mountain seemed to go by faster than I thought it would. At one point, Thorin, recognizing the landscape, runs atop an embankment overlooking a valley. We all race after him and joining him look across the valley at the ruins of an old city.
“What is this place?” Bilbos asks voicing my curiosity.
“It was once the city of Dale. Now it is a ruin. The desolation of Smaug.” Balin says and my heart clenches for the lives lost here. Flashes of when Surtur destroyed Asgard flash through my mind causing my lip to tremble slightly at the memory.
“The sun will soon reach midday; let’s find the hidden door into the mountain before it sets. This way!” Thorin calls as he starts to race away.
“Wait…is this the overlook? Gandalf said to meet him here. On no account were we-” Bilbo calls out but none of the dwarves are listening.
“Do you see him? We have no time to wait upon the wizard. We’re on our own.” Thorin interrupts. “Come!”
The other dwarves follow him; but Bilbo and I look back at the city, conflicted.
“We have no choice; we must go with them.” I add turning to follow them. Bilbo waits for a moment then reluctantly follows.
Reaching the mountainside, we start to look for the secret entrance.
“Anything?” Thorin calls out.
“Nothing!” Dwalin replies.
“If the map is true, the hidden door lies directly above us.” Thorin says softly.
Bilbo, walking around, sees a massive statue of a dwarf carved into the side of the mountain. Looking closely, he notices a set of stairs built into the statue.
“Up here!” Bilbo calls out making us all look toward him.
“You have keen eyes, Master Baggins.” Thorin calls.
We painstakingly make our way up the steep and treacherous steps and find a little rock-walled clearing in the side of the mountain. Thorin runs to the clearing.
“This must be it. The hidden door.” Thorin exclaims. “Let all those who doubted us rue this day!” Thorin holds up his key, the others cheer.
“Right. We have our key, which means that somewhere, there is a keyhole.” Dwalin says as they all start to explore the walls of the clearing with their fingers, looking for a keyhole. Thorin walks to the edge of the clearing and looks out at the setting sun.
“The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.” Thorin ponders.
Thorin looks at the wall and tries to figure out what the light hitting the wall means. As the sun gets lower and lower on the horizon and nothing changes on the wall, Thorin begins to get frantic. “Nori.”
Nori, who is known as a thief, runs to the wall and begins tapping it in different places with a spoon while holding his ear to a cup held against the wall. Meanwhile, Dwalin strains and pushes against the wall. The sun gets lower.
“We’re losing the light.” Thorin yells out panic in his voice.
“Come on!” Dwalin cries out as he begins kicking at the wall.
“Be quiet! I can’t hear when you’re thumping.” Nori yells at Dwalin.
“I can’t find it…it’s not here! It’s not here.” Dwalin panics.
As the sun gets closer to disappearing, Thorin frantically gestures to the other dwarves.
“Break it down!” Thorin yells out causing Dwalin, Gloin, and Bifur smash at the wall with their weapons, to no avail. “Come on!”
“It’s no good! The doors sealed. It can’t be opened by force. Powerful magic on it.” Balin says and the dwarves hitting the door drop their weapons in tiredness and in disappointment. The sun disappears behind distant mountains.
“No!” Thorin cries as he stumbles forward and re-examines the old map, reading aloud. “The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole. That’s what it says.” He holds his arms open is disbelief, the other dwarves mutter in disappointment and anger. “What did we miss?” Thorin walks up to Balin and repeats his question, earnestly and tearfully. “What did we miss, Balin?”
“We’ve lost the light. There’s no more to be done. We had but one chance.” Balin says and I feel tears sting my eyes at their loss. The dwarves bow their heads in despair and turn back toward the stairs. “Come away; it’s…it’s over.”
“Wait a minute!” Bilbo cries out as we watch them turn and head back down the stairs. “Where are they going? You can’t give up now!”
Bilbo looks beseechingly at Thorin, but Thorin turns away. He holds up his key and looks at it, then drops it to the ground, where it clatters.
“Thorin…you can’t give up now.” I say moving closer to him.
Thorin throws the map at Bilbo’s chest and walks past him. I give Bilbo an apologetic look as I quickly follow after Thorin.
“Thorin, I know how you must be feeling, but maybe Bilbo is right.”
“You know nothing of my pain.”
“Do I not?” I argue anger filling my voice. “You forget, I lost my home too. I will never ever be able to get it back.” Tears sting my eyes as I continue, “You have a chance, give Bilbo a chance to figure this out. please, do not give up.”
Thorin turns to face me and for a moment, and thanks to the stairs, he is taller than me. His deep blue eyes find mine and he looks broken.
“Thorin, you haven’t failed until you give up.” I close the distance taking his hands in mine. “Thorin, I care for you, and I want you to be happy. Turning around and leaving, will not make you happy.”
Thorin pulls his hands from mine and reaching up gently cups my face.
“I do not know if I can take anymore loss.” Thorin whispers and I lean into his touch.
“Thorin,” I start about to lay my secret bare. “There is something I’ve been hiding from you. Something you should know.”
“What is it?” He inquires.
Before I have a chance to tell him I hear Bilbo cry out.
“The keyhole! Come back! Come back! It’s the light of the moon, the last moon of autumn! Ha ha ha!”
Thorin’s eyes widen with newfound hope. We instantly turn and race back up the stairs. When we round the corner, Bilbo is looking frantically around on the ground in the clearing for the key, suddenly, his foot hits it and it goes flying from the clearing. Just before it falls off the side of the mountain, a boot steps on the string and stops it. It is Thorin. Bilbo sighs in relief. Thorin slowly reaches down and picks up the key, then examines it. The other dwarves step up beside him. They all smile in relief at Bilbo.
Thorin inserts the key into the keyhole and turns it; mechanisms are heard turning behind the rock. Thorin pushes the wall, and a previously unseen door opens into the mountain. The seams of the door were completely invisible earlier. The door opens into a tunnel going into the mountain. The dwarves look on it awe as Thorin stands on the threshold.
“Erebor.” Thorin breathes as he takes a step inside.
“Thorin…” Balin chokes up, and Thorin puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I know these walls…these walls, this stone. You remember it, Balin. Chambers filled with golden light.” As he says this, Thorin runs his hands over the walls, lost in memory. Balin steps into the tunnel.
“I remember.” Balin adds.
The rest of the Company slowly and reverently enters the mountain. Inside, Nori points at a carving in the wall above the door; it is of the throne of Erebor, with a bright jewel above it, sending out rays of light in all directions. Gloin reads aloud the inscription on the carving.
“Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin’s Folk. May the heart of the mountain unite all dwarves in defense of this home.”
Bilbo looks at the carving in interest and curiosity. Balin explains it to him. “The throne of the king.”
“Oh. And what’s that above it?” Bilbo asks.
“The Arkenstone.”
“Arkenstone… And what’s that?”
“That, Master Burglar, is why you are here.” Thorin concludes and my brow furrows. All the dwarves look at Bilbo, and he looks bewildered, but resolute.
“Wait, you’re making him go in alone?” I question making them all turn toward me.
“Bilbo knows what he’s doing.” Thorin exclaims.
“It a fucking dragon Thorin.” I argue my eyes widening slightly.
“It’s okay (Name), I can do this.” Bilbo interrupts and I shake my head.
I go to argue but he cuts me off with a smile. My stomach twists and turns as a bad feeling washes over me. Bilbo quietly walks through a large doorway and disappears into the mountain. I wait for a while but then I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m going after him.” I say as I start toward the entryway.
“No, you’ll stay here.” Thorin orders as he grabs my arm holding me back.
The ground starts to shake, and panic feels my body.
“Was that an earthquake?” Dori asks.
“That, my lad…was a dragon.” Balin answers and I furrow my brow.
I feel heat coming from the doorway and I turn to see an orange glow from the mountain coming through the door.
“What about Bilbo?” Ori asks and I clench my fists.
“Give him more time.” Thorin orders and I stare daggers at him.
“Time to do what? To be killed?” I argue angrily hating every second I cannot go to help Bilbo.
“You’re afraid.” Thorin retorts and I scoff shaking my head.
Balin steps in between us causing Thorin to turn toward him.
“I fear for YOU. A sickness lies upon that treasure hoard, a sickness that drove your grandfather mad.” Balin says making Thorin’s brow furrow.
“I am not my grandfather.”
“You’re not yourself. The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there-”
“I will not risk this quest for the life of one burglar.”
Balin looks at Thorin disgustedly.
“Bilbo.” I start disappointment in my eyes. “His name is Bilbo.”
Thorin looks contemplatively out into the night.
“I’m going, and you cannot stop me.” I say reaching up to pull his hand from my arm. “There is only one person here who can handle that dragon.” I pause fire filling my eyes. “And it’s me.”
Thorin snaps back to look at me, but I am already racing down the halls. I hear him call after me, but I don’t turn around. I follow the heat and flicker of orange light. After a few turns I make it to the grand hall. If I hadn’t grown up in a kingdom of golden castles the mass of gold would have stunned me to silence. There was so much gold, rivers of it flowed around the old emerald stone columns.
“You have been used, thief in the shadows. You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life and found it worth nothing.” I hear a deep voice speak and I turn to see a massive dragon. He was nothing like the stories Thor had told of the dragons he had killed.
“No. No. No, you’re lying!” I hear Bilbo cry out and I search for him. I find him below a pillar a white gem shining a few feet away from him.
“What did he promise you? A share of the treasure? As if it was his to give. I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it.”
Bilbo, hearing that Smaug is on top of the structure, seeks the Arkenstone lying a few feet away from the structure and makes a run for it. Smaug sees him and whips his tail, sending Bilbo, the Arkenstone, and gold flying. Bilbo tumbles and lands against a pillar.
“My teeth are swords! My claws are spears! My wings are a hurricane!”
As Smaug displays his wings, Bilbo notices a scale missing on the left side of Smaug’s chest. He whispers to himself.
“So, it is true. The black arrow found its mark.” Bilbo says and I narrow my eyes to try to follow his gaze.
“What did you say??” Smaug questions.
“Uh, uh, I was just saying your reputation precedes you, oh Smaug the tyrannical. Truly, you have no equal on this earth.”
As Bilbo speaks, he slowly backs up. He is standing in a bare, open spot, and Smaug faces him. As he finishes speaking, Bilbo looks down and sees the Arkenstone lying just a few feet from him, and he gazes at it.
“I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer, watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.”
Bilbo and Smaug face off, Bilbo pants. Then Smaug begins to rear his head.
“But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So, tell me, thief, how do you choose to die?”
Right before Smaug’s head streaks forward I yell out, “Hey!”
Smaug’s head snaps towards me as a low rumble emanates from his throat.
“You…” Smaug pauses a low rumble in his voice. “I was told you were coming.” Smaug speaks his voice reverberating off the walls.
“Well, here I am.” I reply glancing out of the corner of my eyes to see Bilbo going after the Arkenstone.
“He’s been waiting for you.” Smaug adds and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Well, he can keep waiting. I want nothing to do with him.”
“Like you have a choice.” Smaug says as he inches closer to me.
“I choose my own destiny. I’m no one’s pawn.” I cry back as my skin starts to turn orange as fire emanates from within me. “I am the goddess of Elements. Daughter of Odin. Princess of Asgard. And you… you’re pissing me off.”
Smaug lets out a loud roar, dragon fire emanating from his throat as it passes around me. I smile as I feel nothing. His fire stops and his eyes fill with surprise.
“My turn.” I say reaching forward with my hand letting the fire of my soul flow from me like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
~~~~~~~~
Thorin races through the halls after (Name), he was a fool to let her follow Bilbo. He charges with his sword out through the tunnels and stops as flames light up the walls of the tunnel. He runs out onto the same overhang Bilbo had earlier reached, then stops abruptly when he sees the mountain of treasure all around him. He breathes heavily. Just then, Bilbo runs up to him.
“You’re alive!” Thorin cries out in surprise.
“Not for much longer!” Bilbo replies as he nears him.
“Where’s (Name)?!” Thorin questions making Bilbo pause.
“I don’t know, she was there one moment and then…” Bilbo looks away as he tries to find the right words to say.
They are both standing at the entrance to the tunnel, but Thorin is blocking Bilbo’s way. They pause and look at each other for several seconds, then Thorin speaks again, more quietly.
“Then what?” Thorin inquires his anger growing. “Where is she?!”
They stare at each other for several seconds, panting heavily.
“I don’t know. We have to get out. I’m sure she can take care of herself.”
Bilbo tries to enter the tunnel, but Thorin swings his sword across it, blocking the entrance. He presses the blade against Bilbo, and Bilbo stumbles back, the sword still touching him. Bilbo and Thorin face each other, with the tip of Thorin’s sword against Bilbo’s chest.
“Thorin. Thorin!” Bilbo cries out.
“I will not leave without (Name) and the Arkenstone.”
Thorin steps forward, forcing Bilbo to step back. Bilbo’s eyes are open in fear, and Thorin’s face is steel and blank of emotion. Suddenly, Bilbo looks off to the side, and Thorin hears a sound in that direction. He turns and sees Smaug approaching over the mountain of treasure. Smaug, recognizing Thorin, snarls. Suddenly, the remaining dwarves run out of the tunnel and face Smaug, their weapons out. Smaug roars and rushes at them; his chest and neck glow orange.
“You will burn!” Smaug cries out. Just as Smaug bellows fire at them, the dwarves and Bilbo turn and jump off the staircase. They tumble down the pile of treasure and land near the entrance to another tunnel, which they run into.
“Stay away from my friends!” Thorin hears (Name) shout and turns back to see her floating in the air.
He stares at her for a moment completely shocked at what he was now seeing.
“Thorin, Run!” She cries out as she puts herself between him and Smaug shielding him from the dragon fire.
Millions of thoughts started to race through his head. What was she? Why had she hidden this from him? Was she even who he thought she was? Whom he cared for? Who was she?
“Thorin, please, go!” she cries again as she turns to look at him her (E/C) eyes pleading with him to run.
“Not without you.” He replies making her brow furrow as sadness fills her eyes.
Shaking her head, she pushes him into a room right as angrily, Smaug breathes fire in all directions. Thorin, the last one in the door, is pushed in by the force of the flames. He runs into the room at the other end of the tunnel with the back of his coat on fire, and he throws himself on the ground and rolls to extinguish the flames. He jumps back up.
He glances back the way he had come confusion and panic on his face. Shaking his head, he pushes his concerns about (Name) away as he focuses on getting his kin and Bilbo to safety.
“Come on.” He calls as he starts to run forward. With Smaug roaring in the background fighting with (Name), they run.
~~~
I take a moment to hide from Smaug. My body was slowly starting to tire out. My chest heaved as my body ached from the sudden exertion of my powers. I stumble forward down a walkway as I try to find a place to take a break. Suddenly, there are footsteps. The dwarves emerge out of a tunnel and approach the stone bridge I am on. My eyes meet Thorin’s, and he instantly sneaks over to me and takes me in his arms.
“Are you alright?” He questions his hand reaching to tilt my chin up.
“I’m tired.” I answer honestly my body swaying.
“I have you.” He replies supporting me as best as he could.
“Where to now?” Bilbo whispers to Thorin.
“The western guardroom. There may be a way out.” Thorin replies escorting me forward.
“It’s too high. There’s no chance that way.” Balin counters shaking his head.
“It’s our only chance. We have to try.” Thorin concludes.
“I can distract him.” I offer making Thorin’s grip on my body tighten.
“No, you’ve done enough.”
Quietly, we tiptoe across the bridge, looking all about. Suddenly, a coin falls to the floor right in front of Bilbo and rings loudly. They all freeze and look at Bilbo, who frantically checks his jacket to see if some coin had been stuck in a fold. Hearing another coin fall, they look up and see Smaug crawling just above them, looking for them. He hasn’t seen them. The coins that fell came from his chest and arms, where several coins and gems have embedded themselves after years of him sleeping on them. Thorin motions for them to keep moving.
We stealthily make our way to the western guardroom. Stopping occasionally to hide from Smaug. Upon reaching the guardroom Thorin calls out, “Stay close.” They all stop abruptly when they see that the guardroom is full of rotted, dust- and cobweb-covered corpses. My hand shoots to my mouth as a shocked gasp escapes my lips.
“That’s it, then. There’s no way out.” Dwalin says but my eyes are focused on the mummified remains.
It seems like a landslide, or something; has blocked the exit, trapping the dwarves in the past in the room to die.
“The last of our kin. They must have come here, hoping beyond hope. We could try to reach the Mines. We might last a few days.” Balin suggests.
“No. I will not die like this. Cowering, clawing for breath. We make for the forges.” Thorin decides.
“He’ll see us, sure as death.” Dwalin adds helping me pull my eyes from the bodies to look at him.
“Not if we split up.” Thorin adds and I grimace at a sudden shot of pain in my side.
“Thorin, we’ll never make it.” Balin says hopelessness filling his face.
“Some of us might. Lead him to the forges. We kill the dragon. If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together.” Thorin announces and I see the light return to his kin’s eyes.
“I can help.” I say pushing myself to my feet.
“You’re in no shape to fight.” Thorin rebuts but I shake my head.
“I can distract him; give you guys a clear shot to the forge.”
“I cannot ask that of you.” Thorin says softly as he leans down toward my ear.
“You don’t have too. I will protect you. All of you.” I conclude causing worry to fill his eyes. “There’s something I must tell you all.” I pause for a moment unsure of how telling them my secret would go. “Where I’m from there are people with gifts, I happen to be one of those few people. You might have noticed from before, but I can control the elements. Fire, water, earth, and air. All of it bends to my will.”
“That’s why Smaug’s fire didn’t harm you.” Bilbo breathes as he looks from the ground up to me.
“Fire cannot harm me. No matter how hot it is.” I add as I nod. “I’m sorry I waited this long to tell you all this. I just have a history of people reacting badly when I’ve told them.”
“I’m sorry you felt you had to hide this from us lass.” Dwalin says and I feel my heart lift in my chest.
I glance over to Thorin whose eyes are filled with deep thought and I gulp down a breath of air, “Let me do this. I can distract him long enough for you all to get where you need to be.”
Thorin nods and I give his arm a quick squeeze before I pull away from him and turning to our companions say, “Be careful.”
“Good luck lass.” Dwalin says and I nod.
Turning I head back the way we had come only to feel someone following behind me. I turn to see that it was Thorin.
“Thorin?”
“Don’t die, promise me, you won’t die.”
I open my mouth to argue but decide against it. I lean forward and placing a kiss on his cheek say, “I’ll be fine.”
A/N: I’m back!!! This is a very very very belated holiday/Christmas themed imagine.
Thorin paced around as he considered what he was about to do. He had dreamed of growing up and marrying Y/N as a young dwarfling, but it was not until he reached adulthood that he realized the true extent of his feelings. So, in a bid to win her over he had sat down in front of a scrap of parchment and brainstormed up every sort of gift he could either buy or craft that would touch Y/N. He had eventually remembered the snow globe incident:
Two small dwarflings raced down the corridors of Erebor, giggling and chattering as they went. The two bumped into passersby as they went but nobody complained. The young prince and his companion were far too cute and joyous to be scolded. “Come on Thorin” Y/N giggled as they tugged him along to their family quarters.
Summary: After your encounter with Thorin, you both have to force yourselves to remain professional to keep your relationship a secret from your colleagues, which is proving to be a challenge.
Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)
Words:3,1K
Warnings:18+
A/N: This is the fourth part of Business & Pleasure. You can read the previous parts here.
Special thanks to @legolasbadass for doing the beta reading and @lathalea for valuable feedback.
The cold surface of the wooden door presses hard against my shoulders as Thorin traps me with his broad chest. His kiss is eager and his strength renewed, like the memory of our combined high is mysteriously erased from his memory. I let my hands run over his shirt that is now tucked properly down in his navy trousers and our heated kiss turns to soft giggles as we force our lips apart. He gives me a challenging but playful bite on my lower lip, and I breathe in his intoxicating scent and hug him tightly. Then he rests his forehead tenderly against mine. I don’t want to leave, but I hear myself say, ”I need to go now, I can’t stay here all morning.” The disappointed look in his azure eyes makes me want to seal the door, ignore everything beyond it and succumb to him once more. But then he smiles softly and nods. ”It’s probably for the best. Mahal knows what will happen if you stay.”
