JustWritinOn

Author Meg James, aka JustRamblinOn on AO3, and all things writing, fandom, fiction, and poetry

[megjameswrites]

Welcome to the many worlds of Meg James!

This is a blog for author and poet Meg James (that's me!), and for fanfic from JustRamblinOn over on AO3 (also me; hi!). I both publish my own original works and live the fanfic author life heavily, so there are many worlds and many stories to discover here. I hope you enjoy all of them!

Guidelines & Rules- Please read before exploring!

This is an 18+ blog. Minors please do not engage; come back when you're 18. You are of course free to purchase Meg James books or read JRO content on AO3, but the author will not engage with you here or anywhere else until you are over 18. This is for your safety as well as mine, and your cooperation is appreciated.

This is a safe space; please keep it safe for everyone. Bigotry, bullying, etc will not be allowed, will be deleted and blocked. Please refrain from politics or religion as well, as this is a blog for fiction, poetry, and writing.

Be kind. To others, to the author, to yourself

Do not steal Meg James or JRO works. Inspired by is fully welcomed and accepted, but my OCs, my original works, etc are my own.

No AI art or chatbot AI's based on ANY of my works are accepted here.

HOWEVER- moodboards, playlists, fanfic of original works, human-made artwork, etc are all absolutely adored by the author! Please credit to Meg James/JustRamblinOn when posting. Or tag me so I can see your incredible creativity!

Asks are open, writing requests are accepted; HOWEVER, no promises are made that requests will be written. The Muse drives the boat, and she's a fickle bitch.

All Meg James/JRO works are works of fiction; any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

And finally, heed the tags and content warnings. You read at your own risk. All works contain adult subject matter, and Meg James/JRO is not responsible for what you as a reader choose to consume.

Links:

Masterlist

JustRamblinOn on Ao3

Meg James on Amazon

Meg James' Strange Waters part i: Above the Waterline

Meg James on Facebook

Meg James on Pinterest

Heading and dividers credits- designed by Meg James using Canva

[megjameswrites]

Nine Ball

Pre-apocalypse TWD/ Supernatural crossover; Daryl Dixon, Dean Winchester; gen/no slash; kid!Daryl, kid!Dean

Summary: Three nights, two games of pool, one bet- just a couple kids in a world they never really could control, but a game they could.

TW: child abuse, physical abuse, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

By seventh grade, Daryl’d spent more time in roadhouses and pool halls than he had in school. It started when he was little and couldn’t be left home alone and Merle was in Juvie, so his daddy said screw it and took his six year old to the bar with him. Then he realized how easy it was to swindle folks when a kid was along with ya, and so while Merle ran drugs and did some petty larceny in between his stints in Juvie, Daryl did his homework at a high top across from the jukebox and watched his daddy hustle pool.

Then one night when he was eight or so, his daddy’s mouth wrote a check his ass sure couldn’t cash and Daryl’d hopped off the stool and offered double or nothing he could sink the eight ball in the sidewall, one shot. He’d saved his daddy from a beatin and doubled their take with one shot, and that was it. His place was forever at the bars with his old man, stepping in as closer when Will got too drunk and greedy.

Thing was, Daryl was good at it. He was good at the game and he was better at readin people- had to be, to avoid getting killed at home or beat to hell at school- and he could hustle better’n his old man ever could. He even, sometimes, sorta liked it.

But he wanted to be a kid and do kid shit, too, and that was sort of hard with a name like Dixon and a reserved stool at the local watering hole by the age of 12.

But whatever, it was just life and all he knew so’s he did his best to get his homework done and make his daddy his drinking money (and maybe enough for him to hit the grocery store that week, if he was lucky), and so it went till the year was nearly up and he’d almost managed to scrape a couple As out of his grades, too, by some miracle.

Then they came into the bar one night, the three of em, two kids and their old man in a battered leather jacket, and Daryl watched em from his spot while their old man set the little guy up at a table and gave the kid Daryl’s age instructions to watch his little brother before heading to the bar to lean over it and give Jessica the same smile cops and con men always did.

He weren’t no expert- not yet anyway- but he was pretty sure that guy weren’t no cop.

He glanced at the clock and grimaced, hunching over further in the corner with his math homework and hoping maybe tonight would be different. Maybe his daddy would decide he didn't need another round after all, when he finished the beer in his hand, and maybe his eyes wouldn't fall on the pool table, and maybe he wouldn't remember Daryl was there, in the corner, trying to do his goddamned math homework over the sound of a jukebox at full blast and a bunch of rough, drunken men exchanging insults  and clattering pool balls.

The pool table caught his attention and he watched the men playing. It was always the same crowd in here, always the same type even if it wasn't the same people- leather vests with club cuts, hard-eyed women who leaned on their men's shoulders and smoked cigarettes, raucous laughter too long and too loud after a line of powder disappeared up a nose. Daryl hated this place, hands down, and he hated the people in it. Including his old man, in his spot at the high top nearest the pool tables, watching with eagle eyes and sizing up the competition same as Daryl did.

Only difference, he supposed, was his daddy was  drunk and high, and his daddy couldn't hardly play pool for shit.

Daryl tore his eyes away from the table as the two bikers- one from the Nameless and one from the Brothers, from their cuts- got into an argument over a call. He knew what would happen next, after all, and he also knew what would happen if he turned in his math homework late one more time. But instead of getting back to the numbers, his eyes fell back on the table with the kids, and he noticed the boy his age watching the pool table with the same judicious eye Daryl had been a minute before.

The kid was a hustler, too. It figured, he thought in disgust.

When the blows started, his daddy appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Daryl by the collar and steering him toward the door. He barely had time to grab his bag and his math book before he was frog-marched out, his daddy muttering about not needing no cops when they killed somebody, especially not with some strange around asking questions.

Daryl clung to the bitch seat of his daddy’s bike as they peels out, his eyes landing on the absolutely pristine ‘67 Impala doing damn near the same thing as the fight spilled out the doors. In the passenger seat, he caught a glimpse of the kid who’d been watching the table with such hungry eyes.

The next night he sat on his same stool, watching the same shit show as before, but this time his back burned and he couldn't keep still or concentrate on his homework through it. Finally he gave up and figured he could sacrifice one of his A's for a B, since it weren't like he'd be going nowhere after graduation anyway. If he even made it that far, which the odds weren't exactly in his favor on, as his teachers and his daddy had made abundantly clear many times over.

Talk that night around the joint was all about the string of deaths next town over and how they might be spreading over here, and did they have them a serial killer on the loose or was it just an animal like they'd all been assuming, and how there's some federal agent showing up asking a bunch of weird questions. Honestly, Daryl didn't give much of a shit, except to make a note to stay outta the woods until they caught whatever rabid critter it was, since he didn't exactly put much stock in chupacabra or werewolves or what the hell ever they were speculating it was now.

He managed to find a semi-comfortable position and started to doze off- getting the shit beat out of you took a toll- when he heard his daddy's laugh kick loud and mean. He drug his eyes open and found his daddy leaning on a pool cue with that look in his eye, talking to the man with the boys from the night before who'd tried chatting up Jessica just before the fight broke out. The one with the sweet ride and the kid with the hustler's eyes, the same kid he now saw lingered at the table with a pool stick of his own and a smirk.

Shit, he thought tiredly. He was up. He slid from his seat and wandered over to grab his favorite cue from the rack on the wall, only to find it gone. He frowned at the rack, scrubbed a hand over his face, and it still weren't there.

Oh well, weren't like he needed one stick to make the right shots at the right time, he just had a favorite was all. He grabbed his second choice and wandered over even as his daddy called his name.

"Right here, sir," he answered, eyeing the man in the beat up leather jacket and the plaid shirt. He had dark hair and dark eyes, looked like he'd had about as much sleep that week as Daryl'd had, and was stone-cold sober despite the beer in his hands. That'd make him harder to beat, but not impossible, since Daryl wasn't exactly drunk or high when he played, neither. "We playin', sir?"

"Not me," the man said, eyeing him up and down, and it took Daryl a minute to register the look in the man's eye was something like approval. "My son, Dean. John Winchester. What's your name?"

"Boy's Daryl. I's Will," he daddy put in, clapping him on the shoulder.

Daryl saw stars and gritted his teeth, gripping the cue hard to keep himself standing. The adults talked some more, laid bets, and his daddy shoved him off toward the pool table and the other kid. Dean, he thought as he eyed his opponent, who eyed him right back.

They exchanged nods, grunted names, set up for the break. It was weird, what with Dean being his own age and all, his own height and shit. It was almost like even odds fer once. Daryl weren't used to things being fair, exactly. He usually had the disadvantage of bein a kid goin against a grown up, but it was counteracted by being sober against someone who rarely was.

This weren't the same, and he could tell by the way Dean sized up the table and sized up him that he was in for a run for his money.

Well. For his daddy's money, anyway.

He was almost excited about it. Might have been all the way if he weren't already in so much pain, and had the promise of more of it if'n he lost.

He didn't lose, but it was damn closer'n he liked.

Next night, he perched in the same place, same stool. Friday night meant no homework, thank fuck, but it also meant the joint was open longer, the crowd was rougher, and he got shoved around more. But then, he also played more pool, and he wasn't mad about that, either.

It was a problem he could solve, and the game was fun. He hunched over the table, the beating from two nights before less of a problem now but still one he had to compensate fer, and he called and landed his shot, no issue. He was settling into the swing of things, accepting the claps on the back and the shoulder and not seein stars at least, and then the kid showed up in his face.

"Dean," the kid said with a jerk of his chin. "Daryl, right? I wanna rematch."

Daryl shrugged. "Sure. I'll take your money again, man. You talk to m'daddy?"

"He your manager or something?"

Daryl grunted. "Or something. Got all the cash, so if ya wanna see before ya play, gotta go through him."

"My dad's over there." Dean nodded at the cue in Daryl's hand. "That's my cue."

"Like hell. S'mine first."

They held eyes for a minute and Daryl noticed the kid's were a bright green, and held a faint bruise that hadn't been there the night before. Understanding flashed through him as Dean's jaw tightened when he noticed Daryl noticing, but he didn't say shit. Weren't like he could do shit about it, neither. In another split second, both he and Dean were smiling.

"Stole it last night," Daryl told him. "S'mad."

"Well, you stole it back. You're a damn good player, but I'm gonna beat you tonight. I got you figured out now."

"Yeah? What if I's got you figured out more?" he countered, liking the kid's cocky confidence even if he saw right through it with the wary look Dean shot toward his old man. "I'll whoop your ass again, just wait and see."

Something moved through Dean's eyes and his shoulders shifted subtly, hunching inward before drawing back into that straight bravado. "Sure hope you don't. I guess we'll see. Looks like they've got a deal. Wonder how much we're worth tonight?"

Daryl heard the bitterness in the other kid's voice, saw the way he jerked to attention when his old man came over, and knew in an instant he wouldn't win this game. He could take the beating he'd get fer it, or he'd win the cash back later tonight. But he wouldn't be the fucking reason someone else got hurt. Not when he knew.

The last time he saw the kid, it was in passing on the street the next morning. Saturdays Daryl headed into the woods before dawn, got set up to hunt, and hoped like hell he'd catch somethin' they could use for dinner for the next few days.

He'd hit bupkiss, which was extra problematic given his loss to Dean the night before, but he'd more'n made the money back when everyone around saw he could lose after all and decided to try their luck against him again. His daddy'd been pleased with the take despite the loss, but if he asked for money fer groceries on top of it, he'd probably get a backhand at best and the belt at worst.

He had a few squirrel, which weren't total shit, but it weren't gonna last long neither, and he knew he'd be out again the next morning, laws and hunting regulations be damned.

He came back through town, squirrel over his shoulder, and saw the car.  In the passenger seat, the kid saw him, locked eyes, and offered a grin and a wave.

He waved back, uncertainly, but hey- it was nice to be recognized in a friendly way for once.

That evening, he hoped Dean would come in. He could whoop the pants off the kid again, and maybe they could come up with a hustle to run together so's neither of 'em had to get beat for losing, but he didn't see Dean or his dad or the younger kid.

He did hear the adults talking, before they got too shit faced to make sense, about the animal attacks and how the fed- who'd had a fake, apparently, and probably weren't a fed at all, but they didn't care none, since he was gone and so was the problem- had killed the bear responsible. Well, shit, he thought, almost disappointed. He'd hoped maybe he'd end up with a friend. Do something normal fer a kid fer once. Oh well.

He studied the table, called his shot, lined it up. His daddy'd made another bet, and he'd better be able to make it.

One day he was followin' Merle around the ass side of Georgia, tryin' to keep his brother just enough out of trouble to keep them out of jail, and he eyed a pool table in the back side of a dive bar and thought about runnin' a hustle. They were flat broke, after all, and he was still sharp as hell at the game.

He grabbed his beer- barely touched- and wandered over to run his fingers over the sticks on the wall, get a feel for 'em before he committed.

"You any good at this game?"

He scoffed, turning to eye the cocky bastard in the battered leather jacket who asked the question. Green eyes flashed at him and Daryl frowned, wondering why in the hell he seemed familiar. "I know you?" he asked, staring at the necklace the dude wore, some weird gold head on a black cord that rested just above the Metallica logo on his tee.

The dude shrugged, one shoulder jerking. "Dunno. Name's Dean. Wanna bet?"

"Dean," Daryl said slowly, a memory starting to stir from the bad old days, when he'd spent his time in pool halls trying to do homework and taking on his old man's bets. "You play as a kid? Name's Daryl, an' I think I've whooped yer ass before."

Dean's smile spread slow over his face.

inspired by the song "Nine Ball" by Zach Bryan

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[megjameswrites]

Sometimes art is very serious. And sometimes you do a challenge where your friends give you an outfit and you have to draw a character in that outfit, resulting in a lot of laughing and Merle Dixon in a sweater jumpsuit. @lilbardrhi

[megjameswrites]

abandonment issues (loml)

Daryl Dixon x female!reader

pre-apocalypse, prison, pre-Alexandria time periods

Summary: Two times Daryl Dixon left someone behind, and one time he didn't. Just a random something inspired by a photo of a very young Norman Reedus with a backpack. CW: child abuse, physical abuse

Then

"Listen. I's leavin'. Cain't do this shit no more."

I'd known it was coming, but that didn't make it hurt any less. "Fine," I managed through the sudden weight on my chest. "Bye."

He sighed, hitching the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder. "Don't be like that."

"Like what?" I snapped, glaring. "Angry at being abandoned? Why shouldn't I be? Want me to be happy that you're leaving me alone here? Sorry. I'm not."

He tossed his head, an irritated jerk of his chin he'd picked up from Merle between his older brother's stints in juvie. "Merle ain't comin' back this time. Will's gonna kill me if'n I stick around, and you know it."

I did know it. But I also knew that school, home, this town- all of them would drag me into the depths if I didn't have my lifeline in the form of Daryl Dixon. We were the outcasts, inseparable, in trouble together always. How was I supposed to survive without him? I'd turn into my mother, a docile little barefoot bride in a run-down trailer, cigarette smoke staining the walls yellow-brown and always with a baby on my hip.

I was seventeen, and I didn't think Mom had stopped being pregnant or breastfeeding since I was born. I had too damn many siblings, too many small mouths I had to work to feed, too many bodies to wash and clothe. Mom was useless, too tired and bruised up from our daddy to do shit. And Will's favorite drinking buddy was too busy out back with a six pack and a carton of Marlboroughs to even think about caring for the brats he'd spawned.

But Daryl had it worse. At least my daddy'd never laid a hand on me or the others. Will, on the other hand-

I knew that bag along his back had to hurt like hell, given what Will had done to him last week, but all I could see was the empty future stretching out in front of me. "I know it," I admitted finally, scuffing the worn-out toe of my sneaker on the ground. "Go."

"Come with me."

I sighed, shoving a hand through my hair and ignoring the longing inside me at the thought. "I can't. You know that. Who'd make sure they eat? Take a bath? Get to school?"

"Ain't your job."

I shrugged. "Yes, it is. Same's it was Merle's. I should have been in juvie with him a few times, you know. I'm just better at not getting caught."

"Won't be juvie if'n ya get caught now." It was a familiar argument. All of them were, at this point, and that made it sting all the worse, antiseptic in the fresh wound of him leaving.

"I know," I said, suddenly exhausted. The weight in my chest had turned to lead in my gut, knowing I couldn't leave and knowing what would happen if I stayed. "I won't get caught, though. If you're going, you need to go. Will's gonna be up soon. So's my daddy. I need to get the kids to bed before they piss him off too bad and Momma takes a hit. Pretty sure she's pregnant again."

"She needs to cut his dick off next time he tries. Got enough kids already, ya cain't afford anymore." Daryl's lip curled in a disgusted sneer as he shot a glare toward the lighted windows of the trailer behind me.

"No shit," I agreed. "Dixon."

He shifted, looking down at his own worn-out boots and the tattered hem of his too-long jeans. "Come with me," he said again, quieter. Softer. Almost pleading.

"I can't," I whispered as the sound of the baby crying rose behind me. "I have to go. He's gonna wake up Daddy."

"Screw 'em. They ain't ya kids. Think of yourself for once, damn it!"

I paused with my hand on the door, bitter anger a lump that was hard to swallow. "I can't abandon them. Not like you."

"Ain't abandoning anyone but fuckin' Will," he snapped.

I looked over my shoulder as I opened the door, my daddy's voice shouting over the crying from the baby. "Are too. Me."

I disappeared before he could respond.

Now

I'd stayed behind, guarding the prison and Hershel and Beth and the kids. Always the kids, I thought bitterly, but this wasn't the siblings my parents had forced on me; the siblings child services had taken and scattered after my daddy'd taken his hand to my four year old sister when she'd tried to get between him and Momma. I'd gone to them then, because hell no was I gonna let him start knocking the little ones around like he did Momma. She'd made the choice to stay with him, told me a few days before that she couldn't live without him.

Well, I could. I did. I filed my report and I left, following Daryl's trail toward who the fuck knew where, since Merle was back from the damn Army-  dishonorable discharge, go figure- and had come looking for Daryl three months before.

And I followed the boys around, kept them alive and fed, and generally fucked around in a life I didn't want to live, but couldn't think of anything better after all. Not like I once had, when we were kids, before they'd both left and time and all those snotty noses and hungry bellies had worn me down to the point I'd taken the blows from my daddy when he'd started noticing I existed.

Six months of that and I'd been damn near the same shadow of a person my momma was. I understood her better now, for all I couldn't forgive her. The minute he'd started on another one, I'd put a stop to it. She'd never been able to do that.

Heard he'd died in a fire, with Will, sometime before all the dead started rising. Wasn't too put out by it, if I was honest.

But always, I couldn't help but put the kids first. Carl had just killed his own mom, shooting her in the head after Maggie had cut a baby out of her, and his dad was visiting crazy town and looking to apply for permanent residency, and I couldn't leave him or the baby behind to go on the rescue mission, no matter how badly I wanted to. He looked too damn scared.

So I watched Daryl go, and I stayed behind. Again.

Rick's car pulled through the gates and I wondered why it was hard to breathe. And then the car emptied, and there was no Daryl. There was Maggie, there was Glenn, both looking worse for the wear, but no Daryl Dixon, and-

"Hey. He's alive," Rick said firmly, his hands on my shoulders. "He's alive. He told me to tell you where he was headed, so you could find them."

"What?" I asked, not really understanding what he was trying to say. "Follow- what?""

"He left," Rick said, staring into my eyes. "We found- Merle was working with the Governor. Merle did this to Maggie and Glenn. I couldn't have him come back here, so Daryl- Daryl left. Went with his brother."

The world tilted and swirled, but I stayed on my feet. "Daryl found Merle. And left with him," I repeated slowly. "He left with Merle."

"Yes. He told me to tell you where we left them, and that he'd leave you signs so you could find them. But, please. Don't- don't leave. We need you. We need Daryl, too. We can't afford to lose anyone else."

Rick was pleading with me, staring into my eyes, but all I saw was Daryl at seventeen, bag hitched over his shoulder as he stared at his feet and told me he was leaving. "At least then he said it to my face," I murmured.

"What?"

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the memories. Left me behind, for Merle. Again. He'd followed Merle around when I would have stayed; left me behind alone to go fish Merle out of trouble.

He'd always choose his brother over me, I thought tiredly. That was fine. I'd always chose the ones who needed me more over him.

And right now, that was Carl. That was the baby. It was Hershel, missing half his leg; and Beth; and Carol. It was Rick, who needed his right hand. But his right hand had just left us.

So I'd step up, and take his place. "I'm not going after him. He'll come back. He always does," I said firmly.

Except when he didn't, I thought. Like when we were seventeen and he said goodbye and left me behind. And he'd done it again.

"And when he does, I'm going to beat his ass," I muttered as I turned away from the gate. "Twice. Merle's too."

Later

The storm had ended in the night, and it was quiet in the barn when Daryl's hand touched my shoulder. I woke instantly, hand going for my gun, but there was no threat.

He tossed hair from his eyes and grabbed my hand to pull me to my feet. "I's goin'," he whispered. "Come on."

I wrinkled my nose. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "See the sunrise, course. To scout."

"It's early enough to see the sunrise? Daryl, that storm last night would have taken out all of them. There's nothing to scout," I whispered, but I was following him as he made his way through the sleeping forms of our people and to the barn door.

Half-light made it possible to make out the damage, and I whistled. "Tornado?"

He grunted an acknowledgement as we picked our way through the downed trees and littered bodies of the dead. "Prob'ly. Shit."

"Yeah." It should have taken the barn out with it, I thought as I looked around. It was only luck that it hadn't. And luck- and him- that had kept the dead out of our little area of safety during the night as well. "Why'd you drag me out here again? There's nothing here."

"Cause ya don't like it when I leave ya behind. And cause that," he added, nodding toward the horizon as we emerged from the trees into a clearing.

The sun had started to rise, color exploding in the sky. He was right, I thought as I watched it. Not only about the sunrise.

His hand tangled in mine. "I ain't gonna leave. Know ya been worried about me, after- after Beth. But I ain't goin' nowhere. I promise."

"Good," I whispered, watching the sun. "I'll find you if you do."

"Won't have to," he countered. "Cain't do that shit no more. Leavin' ya. Nothin' and nobody could make me do that again."

"Excuse me?"

We both whirled, weapons raised. The man wore a poncho, carried a backpack, and had his hands in the air. "Hi," he said as we stared at him. "My name's Aaron. I have a community. Alexandria."

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[megjameswrites]

Chapter Thirteen: azhâr

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

We've reached the final chapter!!!! If you want more TV content, go hype up lilbardrhi!!

{Khuzdul; home}

The bird under me banked and swooped, and I squeezed my eyes shut very tightly as he did. What the shit, I thought wildly. We're going back in?

His wings beat in the air as he hovered, creating a backdraft I could feel even from where I was, and Kíli sprang up and grabbed onto the poor bird's feathers so hard I winced. "Hey, take it easy on Manwe's friend, dude."

Kíli's eyes were wild as he tore his eyes from the ground and the fire and the retreating Wargs and orcs. "What?"

"The feathers," I said with a nod at his hands. "Want someone to pull your hair like that? Well, actually, I don't need to know the answer to that, all things considered."

The joke did it, and his smile flashed quick and bright as he- finally- released the feathers. "We are- very high up."

"Don't remind me," I muttered, purposefully focusing on Kíli and not that very, very upsetting fact. "I hate heights."

"Really?"

I heard the desperation of someone who was horribly worried and trying to be distracted in his voice, and I took a moment to follow his gaze to where Rhi and Fí were sharing a feathered taxi as well. Not that I would call them that out loud; I liked being alive; and besides the fact that gravity would win if my heart didn't stop from the sheer terror if this particular bird decided he didn't like his cargo, I'd seen the beaks and talons, thanks. Fí's eyes were wilder than Kíli's, but it wasn't the heights. I didn't think that goddamn lion was afraid of much of anything, and a bit of open air under his feet wasn't going to do it.

No, it was the fact that he couldn't decide who to freak out over more, apparently- me or Thorin. Considering I was perfectly fine, sitting and talking and not passing out and everything, and Thorin was being carried in a surprisingly delicate cage-like grasp, his body limp and suspiciously lifeless, I definitely thought Fí should be more worried about Thorin.

But then again, his brother was on this bird with me, so-

"Thorin!" he called, horror and worry so thick in his voice it made me flinch. "Thorin!"

"He's fine," I muttered, knowing damn well I'd have to scream to be heard. "And he's going to wake up and apologize to his boyfriend for all the nasty things he's said so far."

"What?"

Oops. I'd forgotten Kíli was there, and here I was spilling secrets out loud talking to myself. "Nothing. Just- your uncle's going to be fine."

"He will." Kíli's voice held the same sort of brash confidence that hid real worry that I so often used, and I shot him a look, eyebrow raised. He was staring at Thorin, but even as I watched, his eyes slid back to the eagle carrying Fí and Rhi.

Ahhh. Yeah, it was probably about time Kíli and I had a little chat, and here we were with a bit of privacy and time on our hands, so to speak. I was fairly certain the eagle didn't count, since he- or she, how was I to know?- absolutely had bigger things to worry about than the love affairs of humans and dwarves. They were only here as a small favor to our resident Disgruntled Minor God, after all, and because they liked the servants of the Dark Lord about as much as we did.

"So," I said brightly, deliberately turning away from where Rhi was now glaring so hard it was burning a hole in my skin. Judas fuck, woman, I'm not going to share anything you tell me in private, damn. "We should probably chat."

"I-"

I waved his half-formed, confused objection away. "Wasn't a question or a suggestion, really. See, I know shit- and I won a bet- but more importantly, I know you need some solid life advice before you go any further down the road you're on. Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean- what?" He was so lost. He wasn't as used to me as his brother was, poor bastard, and now the tips of his ears were turning pink because he knew what the hell I was about to talk to him about.

Oh well. I gestured vaguely in the direction of Rhi. "Did you mean it? You think she's your One? We'll get to the absurdity of that idea again later; for right now, I just want to know if you're serious."

He glared at me, Durin temper stirring in his eyes now. Good, I thought as he did. I wanted him a little pissed off and a lot off balance. "What do you know of it, to so easily dismiss the idea of Ones?"

"I know relationships are fucking hard work," I said cheerfully. "And very rarely is the soulmate concept, packaged in any form, one that lasts for long. But we can debate fairy tales and soulmates and happily-ever-afters any time. I want to know where your head's at, while we're alone and you can't run away."

That got me another of his lightning smiles, amusement flashing through the temper. "I don't run from anything."

"Face your foe then, son of Durin."

He shook his head, eyes laughing, and gestured helplessly. "She is. I know she is."

"Good. Then don't be a dumbass." The bird banked under me, beginning a slow circle toward the ground, and we were running out of time. "Don't let her push you away. She has reasons, ones I'm not getting into because it's not my fucking place, but you two need to have a proper talk, and soon. Whatever you think it is, you're wrong. Shit, out of time. Just- don't be a dumbass," I repeated, then squeezed my eyes shut as the ground started to rush toward us perilously quickly. "I fucking hate heights."

"What in the name of Mahal was that?"

I turned away from the view of the Lonely Mountain in the distance, where I'd been contemplating things like how to kill an unkillable dragon and what I'd do when I got my hands on the Pale Orc again- which I would- and lifted an eyebrow in surprise. I'd been expecting Rhi, honestly, not Fíli. "What was what?"

He shot me a murderous glare, finger jabbing into my face as he hissed in the quiet of the outskirts of camp. The others were doing their own thing, but I couldn't settle. Not an unusual experience, and given what we'd just survived, I wasn't at all surprised, but it was annoying, honestly. And now I had a very grumpy dwarf in my space.

"Back the fuck off," I snarled before he could say anything. "Don't be like your uncle."

"I am like my uncle!" he roared back.

I heard the quiet in camp get heavier, and deliberately turned my back to Fíli. "Try again when you calm the fuck down."

There was something in the distance, a splash of deeper darkness in the lengthening shadows of sunset, but it was far enough away it wouldn't be a problem tonight. We'd be harassed by the orcs soon enough, and spend some time doing the running and the sneaking, and then- oh shit, we were close to Beorn, weren't we? Maybe that was the problem.

Fí grabbed my arm, jerking hard, and I reacted without letting my brain stop me. I was pissed off now, and the knife dropped into my hand and flashed to his throat in a blur. I lifted an eyebrow as it brought him up short, but the temper didn't fucking fade from his eyes.

"What'd I say?" I said lowly. "Back the fuck off, Fíli."

"I cannot," he snarled back, but his eyes were calmer and his tone was soft. "I need- You are wounded."

It wasn't a question, and I blinked in confusion. "No, I'm not."

"Then why are you bleeding, eagle?"

I was? I looked at my arms and didn't see anything, then Fí's fingers ghosted across the exposed skin of my collarbone and neck and came away bloody.

I frowned at them as he held them up to show me. "Huh. That's weird."

"Azag-" He cut himself off with a sound of annoyance, flinging his hands into the air. "Sit, woman."

"Make me," I shot back without thinking, now poking at my own skin to try to find the source. "I really don't think I'm-"

I was on my ass. I blinked, looking up at Fí, who practically vibrated with the barely-caged… Something. It wasn't anger, I realized slowly. It was worry. It was the kind of fear that didn't have an outlet, even in seeing the ones you feared for safe and sound.

Thorin had gotten up, as I'd known he would. Rhi had done some fire-hands bullshit and sped up the process, and Thorin had told Bilbo he was wrong and given him a long hug while I met Rhi's eyes and mouthed "Sailllll!" because Bagginshield was the ship that sailed itself, damn it. And Fí had seemed fine.

We'd made camp and he'd barely glanced my way. And then I'd walked out here to the edge of the precipice and…

And here we were, with me on my ass in a very unexpected moment of him showing his actual strength, or maybe it was me being weakened and distracted. "I'm fine, Fí," I said gently. "I don't think it's my blood."

"There is blood caked to the sides of your face," he snapped. "It came from your ears. I watched them bleed. And there is a cut along your throat, and a bite on your hand, and you do not even notice."

I didn't. I glanced at said hand in surprise, and sure enough, one of the damn demon dogs had gotten a bite in. It wasn't bad, and I sort of remembered it happening, and now that I looked at it, fuck, that hurt. "Well, shit," I muttered.

"Indeed. Stay where I put you or I will do it again," he snapped, and he was gone.

I blinked, wondering how he'd done that, and he was back. Oh shit, I was suddenly very, very tired. Like, about-to-crash-out tired. Not the much-feared Angry Tired, but something else, something stronger. "Did you drug me?"

"How would I have done that?" He sounded almost amused, but there was a faint tremor in his hands as he cleaned the bite gruffly and smeared some kind of goop on it. "You have consumed nothing. Speaking of which, you should drink. Here."

A canteen was in my hands, and I took a long chug, thinking it would be water. It wasn't. Where in the hell, I wondered as I coughed and my eyes watered, did they keep finding ale? "What the shit, Fí?"

"You need fortification. There is a look in your eyes I do not overmuch like. There is no telling what could have been in the bite of that beast," he snapped. "And you- Azaghâl I call you, but you should not have faced the Pale Orc alone!"

"Don't bitch at me," I muttered, eyes so heavy they were almost impossible to keep open. "I did what I had to do. It would have been worse if I hadn't. And I could have taken him, damn it."

"Be silent," he snarled, so venomous my eyes popped open from where they'd begun to close. "You could not. I watched you almost die, warrior, and I am amazed your injuries are so few. I need to clean your face and neck, so I can see how bad it truly is. It seeps blood still."

I shrugged and leaned back against the tree he'd plopped me beside. "Whatever. I'm fine, I promise. Just tired. I just need a nap and I'm good to go."

"You are speaking a mix of common and Khuzdul, warrior," he said, his voice sounding far away as my eyes drifted closed. "I suggest you stop all together and rest. I'll take care of you," he added, his fingers against my cheek and his voice a whisper in my ear. "Foolish woman."

I wanted to object to that, but my body was no longer listening to my mind, it seemed.

I opened my eyes to darkness. What the shit? How long-

I was on my feet in an instant, hands reaching for the weapons I'd needed to clean and scanning the camp to make sure all was well. There were sleeping forms lying all around, and the stillness was pierced by Dwalin's sudden, chainsaw snore, and my heartrate began to settle as I counted bundles.

Ori, Nori, Dori; Bifur, Bofur, Bombur: Balin and his extremely loud brother Dwalin; Gandalf against the tree; Rhi between the fire and Kíli; Oin and Gloin; Bilbo, and…

It ratcheted back up when I didn't find Thorin or Fíli, and my eyes were everywhere as I stopped fucking breathing for a moment. I'd crashed out, somehow. It was like I'd been fucking drugged, and I couldn't fight it, and now something had happened and-

And one of them was on goddamn watch, I thought in disgust as I found their forms in the starlight. And the other was sitting with him. Shit. "You have got to chill the fuck out," I muttered to myself, shoving my axes back into the loops on my belt.

I frowned, realizing they were clean. Well, shit. Someone- probably Fí- had taken care of that for me while I slept the sleep of the dead. Hell, I felt better rested than I had since we'd arrived here. I wasn't even craving coffee.

Then again, the sun wasn't rising yet; though if I had to guess, it wasn't far off. Give it a little time and I'd be crabby and demanding as usual. Hell, they'd be disappointed if I wasn't.

I started for Fí, like I usually would, but hesitated with Thorin there. His Dramatic Majesty was rarely good company, for all he was a damn inspiring leader, and I wasn't in the mood for exchanging more than well-meaning insults. But I wanted Fí, and honestly, I was a bit concerned for Thorin too. I should check him over, make sure everything was as healed as he claimed it to be.

The irony was not lost on me. Nor the hypocrisy. I ignored both.

They were sitting in silence when I approached, plopping down beside Fí and scrubbing a hand over my eyes. He said nothing, but turned to study me as well as he could in the starlight. I rolled my eyes and made a face, but let him.

I got it. Really, I did. I just wasn't good at being on the receiving end of it.

Thorin watched as I took the whetstone from Fí's pocket and pulled one of his knives from his vambrace, holding the edge up to check it before I drew the stone over the blade with a comforting shhhhink sound. I waited for one of them to speak, but neither of them did.

I'd have been content to sit in silence with just Fí, but with Thorin it wasn't the usual comfortable one we had between the two of us. "Thanks for cleaning my gear, Fí," I said quietly.

"It was Uncle," he murmured, turning away to study the night and the Mountain in the distance. "Not I. I was too busy cleaning your face," he added, slyness in his voice.

I scoffed and ignored him. "Well. Thank you, then, Thorin."

"You took on the Defiler. You saved my life."

"I think that was Bilbo," I said with a shrug. "I was just after that bastard's head."

"Bilbo, yes. Him I have thanked already. You I have not."

I grimaced. "Please don't. It'll just embarrass both of us."

And Thorin laughed. It was low and quiet, but it was a laugh, and I stared at him with wild eyes. What? He laughed? He could do that? At me?

"Holy shit," I breathed. "Is he ok?"

Fí shot me a look and cleared his throat like he was trying not to laugh as well. "Uncle is fine. I've told you repeatedly, warrior, he is more than just the stern 'bastard' you call him."

"Hey," I protested weakly as Thorin's laugh turned into a mild glare. "That was between you and me, damn it."

"Yes, well. You gave me a scare. Both on the field of battle and off."

That was fair, I supposed, but really? He had to get back to me by ratting me out to Thorin? I sighed. "I'm sorry. And I'm fine. See? Awake and feeling better than in ages."

"Sleep will do that. You should try it more often," Thorin grunted.

I shot him a glare. "Excuse the fuck out of you, but it's not my fault your friend back there sounds like- well, that," I finished as Dwalin let out another ripper of a snore. "Who can sleep through that?"

"Anyone of stern and hardy stock," Thorin replied dryly. "Except one human warrior, apparently."

I froze, surprised. Thorin did not call me a warrior. That was Fí, not Thorin the Asshole Oakenshield.

The asshole in question rose to his feet, looking out at his lost home with a hand on his sword, and I couldn't take my eyes from him. He'd always been inspirational, I'd give him that. Kingly and leaderly and someone we could follow, even into the belly of a Mountain with a sleeping evil lying in wait. If only he wasn't so painfully aware of his own majesty.

"I owe you a debt, as I do the hobbit. I draw breath because you drew blade with me. I am glad you are here, and I welcome you at my side when we reach the Mountain."

I stayed very, very still, afraid that if I moved it would break the strange spell the darkness seemed to have cast over Thorin. He didn't speak like that, not to me. I was the thorn in his side who annoyed the fuck out of him and flirted with his nephew and drove him fucking crazy. Not a companion he respected. Not a companion he valued.

What the shit was this?

"My home is in sight, but still there are many leagues and many perils between me and it. And when we reach it, what then? What will we find under the mountain? A living dragon? A wasted ruin of a once-great kingdom? The Arkenstone?"

I felt myself snarl at the mention of the blasted rock. I hated that damn thing.

"I do not know. It haunts my waking moments and my dreams. But there it is, in the distance, and I will reach it. With my kin at my side, I will reclaim my homeland. And you will have a place there, however long you should desire it," he added, turning back. He rested a hand on my shoulder as he moved slowly back toward camp, and still I stared, speechless, as he smiled faintly down on me. "Sunrise will come soon. I'll put your kettle on the fire so you don't remove all our heads with your teeth."

My jaw dropped and I scrambled to turn around and watch as he did exactly that. Thorin fucking Oakenshield put my goddamn kettle over the fire so I'd have coffee in a matter of moments. I turned back to find Fí watching me with a faint smile on his lips, amusement and something else I couldn't quite read in his eyes. "What? What the shit?"

"I told you," Fí said quietly. "My uncle is a great man. We can see home, azaghâl. And it shall be ours again. And yours, should you wish it."

The sun broke over the Mountain while I was still trying to process what in the fuck had just happened.

| Azaghâl Masterlist| Meg James Masterlist| lilbardrhi masterlist|

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Twelve: baruk khazâd

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

{Khuzdul, "Axes of the Dwarves!"}

Rhi was certainly correct about the running being an absolute bitch, but that wasn't what bothered me the most about being up in a tree like a goddamn squirrel with Wargs swarming below. It was the itch between my shoulder blades, the desperate need to have my axe in my hand and my feet firmly planted on the fucking ground, because what was I, a bird?

Eagle Fi might have called me, but damned if I had wings like one, and I knew what was coming.

Not just because I'd seen this movie a thousand times and dreamed this scene a thousand more, but because I could feel them- feel him- somewhere deep in my chest, deep in my head. Azog was coming, and I was going to fucking remove his head right here and now and save everyone a whole lot of problems later on.

Bolg would still come after us, but Legolas could handle him. I didn't have any personal affront toward Bolg, aside from his active existence. Beyond just him being an orc, there was the fact that he was Azog's son, and that implied Azog had procreated with something.

And I had this headcannon about orcs, see, and how they were similar to male cats in certain anatomical ways, and I very much did not want to find out if that was true or not.

Why was I thinking about orc penis? I wondered as the tree I clung to shook again. Now was not the time. Now wasn't the time for much, actually, and yes, I was salty about it, thanks all the same. Run, wait. Run, wait.

I was tired of waiting. I was tired of running.

I was ready for a fight, and by all the gods of Middle Earth and my own, I was going to have one.

Azog chose that moment to appear from the fire and smoke, his voice cutting through the buffeting waves of pain the Black Speech of orc and Warg continued to crash over me. It hurt, hearing the Black Speech; and hurt more than my ears, though those felt like they were bleeding.

'Do you smell it? The scent of fear?'

The words were half-heard, half-remembered as I watched Azog, cutting ribbons off my eardrums though he was so far away I shouldn't have been able to hear. And I definitely shouldn't have understood.

It was probably memory, I told myself, even as I touched the skin beneath my ear and my fingers came away slick. Damn, it really cut me. What the shit?

'I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain.'

In the next tree over, Thorin stared at the Pale Orc, his heart in his eyes as his lips moved in a soundless 'no'. "It cannot be."

It wasn't, and I knew that damn well, and as soon as that bastard got close enough I'd take him out. Beside me, Fí grunted and yelled something about hanging on tighter to the others as Azog sent the Wargs after us with renewed fury. I kept my eye on the prize and counted down in my head, ignoring the pandemonium and shaking trees. Until, that was, one of the fuckers clamped down on a branch perilously close to my feet and got its paws around the one below, holding itself up. "Well, shit," I muttered, and despite protests from Fí, dropped down so I could get at the thing.

It tried getting at me, too, but I won.

And then the trees were falling, there was a lot of jumping, and fucking Azog started laughing. I clamped my hands over my ears- not my brightest idea considering the tree, the Wargs, etc- and bit back a scream of pain. No one needed me distracting them right now since there was a lot of holding on for dear life going on.

Someone needed to have a bright idea very soon, and luckily enough, Gandalf and my bitch came through. Pinecones started dropping like hot potatoes, lit on fire, and I shifted 'talk to Rhi about the fire hands' up my mental to-do list to right under 'don't die' and 'kill the Pale Orc'. But the Wargs backed off from the base of the trees, even though they were starting a small forest fire, and hey, had no one remembered to mention to them that we were perched on top of a very tall pile of kindling?

This was not "burn the witch", thanks. It was Middle Earth, not the Middle Ages. Well. Whatever.

Soon enough everyone else was lobbing firecones at Wargs, Fí trying to pass one to me, but I refused. That mental countdown was rapidly nearing zero, and it was almost time to get myself some roast orc for dinner.

I wasn't going to eat Azog. But maybe I'd take a trophy. For fun.

He chose that moment to scream, and the dwarves screamed back. It was kind of cute, honestly, and I could feel the smile pull my lips back in something more like a snarl. I hated him. I'd known it all along, and flashes came to me even as Fí called a cheerful "we're driving them back, azaghâl!" to me.

Azog's blade through his stomach, his face twisting in pain. Kíli falling to Bolg. Thorin pale and broken on the ice.

No. No. I couldn't- I wouldn't. Especially not now. I'd change things. I had to.

Shit, Rhi was in love with Kíli. Like the real thing, not the character-crush version I loved to tease her about. How in the fuck could I let him die? And Fí was my best friend, aside from her.

And Thorin, for all he annoyed the fuck out of me with his high-handed majesty and his domineering personality, was a king I could follow.

I'd save them all, and I'd do it right fucking now, I thought as the roots of our last escape began to give way.

I rode the falling tree down, foreknowledge being good for looking cool as shit, as Azog the Defiler smiled. Ori and Dori were in trouble, but Gandalf would handle that. Rhi was in good hands with Fí and Kíli near her, and I- I was going to save Thorin's ass before he got it in trouble.

What were we here for, if not for this? In this fucked-up escape from reality, or this alternate version of it, whatever Gandalf and Rhi had decided it to be, we were here for a reason. And killing that smiling bastard was mine.

My axes were in hand and I charged down the trunk before Thorin could, stealing his Dramatic Gay Majesty's thunder without a backward glance. Rhi screamed my name, but I'd be fine.

This was, after all, just a dream, right? You can't die in your dreams. And if I could, I sure as shit wasn't going to die because I lost a fight with gravity.

Azog was distracted by Thorin, who'd stood up slowly and started toward him. I took advantage of that, moving from branch to branch before sprinting full-tilt down the trunk.

I took out a Warg along the way, just for kicks, and jumped onto the back of another. "Alright, Devil Dog," I snarled in its ear as I grabbed hold of a double handful of fur. "Take me to your leader."

It did not. It tossed me instead, like a sack of boiled potatoes. Why boiled? Who knows. Probably the heat from the fire. Luckily for me, it tossed me in the direction I wanted to go, and I rolled with the landing and sprung up in time to slice straight out at the underside of the Warg Azog rode as it leapt from the ledge toward Thorin, who charged now with single-minded dwarven fury.

And if I remembered correctly, ended up on his ass. You're welcome, your majesty, I thought as the Warg crumbled instead, yelping as it fell.

Azog rolled with the collapse, turning that snarl toward me. His lips moved and my ears screamed, and I heard the words in the air and in my mind.

'Little girl, you think you stand between me and my prey?'

"I'm not a little fucking girl," I snarled, flipping my axe around and bringing it up into a ready position. "Watch your back, dumbass."

Azog turned, throwing up the mace he'd replaced his hand with- and didn't that look fucking painful- and catching Thorin's sword on the shaft. It couldn't have felt good, ringing down through the metal and into where it had been thrust through his arm like a railway spike, but the Defiler didn't even seem like he noticed.

I had a sinking feeling that maybe I was, in fact, outclassed and had been a hair too hasty. But then I heard Fí scream a warning and his face flashed before my eyes again, grey and still. I bared my teeth at Azog, spared a quick nod for Thorin, and closed in on him in a flurry of blows. Thorin came from the other side, and it seemed almost as if we'd do it. We'd defeat the Pale Orc here, among the trees and the fire, instead of on the ice.

And then Thorin took a blow to his center, the mace Azog wielded in his other hand slamming into his core and sending him flying. I screamed, rage and worry ripping it out of me like the 'ki-ya' we'd been trained to do in my karate classes back on earth, and charged in without thinking.

A Warg leapt in front of me, his teeth snapping entirely too close to my face for comfort. I flinched back, and that single hesitation was all it took for the Defiler to be on Thorin like white on rice. Azog's beast clamped down on Thorin, his cry of pain sending a shudder through my body even as I struck out at the demon dog in front of me.

"I don't," I snarled, axes slicing one after the other in the thing's face, driving it backwards, "give. A fuck. If Rhi can understand you. I'm taking. Your fucking. Head!"

And I did. But it took too damn long, and there were two more of them and an orc, and luckily Bilbo was as foolishly thick-headed as I was and had come in to Thorin's rescue, defending him against the bastard the Defiler had sent after Thorin with Sting while I did my best to keep 'don't die' at number one on my list.

I watched Bilbo swinging Sting, brilliant blue, at Azog, standing alone over Thorin's body, and started to stress. "Ok, boys," I muttered to the Wargs and the orc circling me. "Who's next?"

Mistake, I thought, as the Wargs closed in at the same time. But even as I heard Azog's 'kill him' reverberate in my head and my poor abused ears, a knife flashed in the flames and slammed into the eye of one of the bastard hounds of hell. "Thanks, Fí," I mumbled, recognizing the hilt, and settled into the other as Dwarven war cries sounded from the tree.

I was after the Pale Orc. I was going to have his head, damn it.

"AZOGGGG!" I screamed his name over the sounds of battle, over the war cries, over the cracking of the fire, and he turned from dogged pursuit of Bilbo and Thorin, surprise on his scarred face. He smiled and his lips moved, and I heard the Black Speech in my bleeding ears.

'Little witch. More than you seem, yes. A fine meal you will make for my friend.'

"Get over here and try then," I snarled, and my throat hurt as I spoke.

It wasn't until Fí told me later I'd know the pain was from saying it in Black Speech.

The Warg moved, snarling and snapping against the reins Azog held, once again astride his nasty-ass pet. I charged, giving up the concept of holding my ground in favor of getting more licks in before the inevitable conclusion to this episode.

Rhi was screeching something about taxis at the top of her lungs, after all, and Fi was yelling 'eagle' at me, and I ignored them both as I closed with the Pale Orc and-

Went flying in the backlash of massive fucking wings. Oof, I thought, right before I thudded into the ground. That was going to hurt.

Oh look. I was right. Maybe he hadn't been yelling for me after all, I realized as Fí screamed 'eagles!' again. Our rides were here.

Damn. I'd really, really wanted a piece of Azog.

Maybe I could still get it, I thought as I scrambled back to my feet. I could- Damn it. He was running, coward that he was at heart, leading his pack as the eagles harried them, scooping them up and tossing them when they'd taken to the air again.

The curse I screamed after him ripped at my vocal chords and I tasted blood. Then Fí yelled something at me- probably 'stupid woman'- and I knew I needed to be going. I nodded at the next eagle who flew close, wings beating as he impossibly hovered, and I took a running start and leapt to his back. I gripped with my knees and resisted the urge to clutch a handful feathers, thinking that probably wouldn't be all that polite.

"Thanks," I said breathlessly, right before the wings beat once and we were soaring.

Oh shit. I hate heights.

| Azaghâl Masterlist| Meg James Masterlist| lilbardrhi masterlist|

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Eleven: gairurakhâs

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

{Khuzdul; goblins}

His lip curled in a sneer, eyes fixed on the goblins swarming around them. “Steady, eagle,” he murmured to the woman practically vibrating at his side.

“They’re gross,” she hissed back. “And they took my weapons. Fí. I hate this.”

“I know. Stop screaming, we need to listen.” He focused on the giant, repulsive king of goblin town, demanding to know which of them was Fíli’s uncle, and his hands moved for blades that were no longer there.

Mahal take these perversions of life, he swore viciously as the goblins crowded closer to him and his eagle. He shoved back, feeling her shudder at their touch, and found himself nose to nose with one particular bastard who leered at her harder than he liked.

He found his attention straying from the fat goblin king who was most certainly going to sentence them to death and focusing on the woman at his side more than ever before, and he wondered yet again if he had made a mistake back in Rivendell.

He had watched her flirt with elves, men and women alike, and jealousy flamed and screamed within at the idea of her lying with one of them. It was not merely that they were elvish bastards, whom he hated as his uncle did, but that- that it was not him who she looked upon with that single-minded hunger in her eyes.

He’d acted on it, taking her in a public place, on a public bench, and since then the thought of feeling her moving against him again had haunted his every dream and most of his waking moments, despite their careful promise to each other to stay merely friends.

He was forsworn to carry on the line of Durin, provided they made it out of this cavern with their heads in tact- a circumstance seeming more and more unlikely as the Goblin King held them longer- and she was not a dwarrowdam. There was no future in a liaison between them, however enjoyable it might have been.

So why did he flex the not inconsiderable muscle of his arm when she latched onto it?

“Fí. Pay attention. Things are about to get messy,” she said into his ear, so low he knew only he would hear.

It was unlike her to use the knowledge he knew she had of what would happen to them. There was something coming then, something urgent and important, and it was up to him to be the king apparent and defend his people. He nodded, not asking questions, and suddenly the cavern was awash with blinding light.

“And there it is,” she muttered. “Get ready for running. And improvised weapons.”

Something about it made him smile, how dryly annoyed she sounded about the whole affair. Then the cavern burst into riotous, chaotic motion, and he was indeed busy defending his people- and her- with whatever he could grasp to use as a weapon.

And while he said he defended azaghâl, the truth was, she fought right there at his side, yelling to Rhi- who burned goblins with a touch of her hands- and to him and adding insults to the unending crowd of goblins they charged through.

It was useless, and he knew it, but they would not go down without a fight. And besides, if she had believed it impossible to escape, she would have told him.

He could not imagine she would choose not to share that knowledge, if it was in her possession.

They found themselves once more in a precarious position, surrounded and outnumbered and taunted by the massive form of the king. At his side- always at his side, he thought, and when she wasn’t he searched her out until she was there- she muttered something under her breath he couldn’t catch.

Gandalf sliced open the goblin king at stomach and throat, and he would have cheered, except then they were falling.

They slammed to a halt, and beneath him, Meg groaned.

Instantly, Fíli reminded himself they were at risk of death, and did his best to not react to their deeply unfortunate positioning. Which he could not do anything to avoid, given Bombur was on top of him, and-

"Well, that could have been worse."

Meg groaned again, and instant later, weight slammed onto them from above. Fili grunted as the impact drove him harder toward the ground, which unfortunately meant harder into the body beneath him as well, and-

Her eyes opened and she flashed him a wicked grin. "At least buy a girl dinner first, damn."

He rolled his eyes at her as he strained to remove the weight of Bombur and whatever rocks had rained from above from his shoulders, and watched something move across her face that could, maybe, have been… appreciation?

She slid rapidly free the moment he'd gotten himself high enough for her to do so, grabbing Bombur by the arms and tugging until he rolled from Fili's back. "Good news, the fat bastard's dead. Not you, Bombur, we love you, I'd never call you a fat bastard. Bad news," she continued in a strangely cheerful tone, "we're not done with the running and escaping. Find your feet, Fi; time to go."

"Gandalf!"

Fíli's head whipped toward the sound of his brother's call, and he followed Kíli's eyes toward the swarm descending on them from above. Immediately, he began pulling the others to their feet, shoving what weapons they had into their hands and generally attempting to get the crowd of them ready for what was coming.

"There's too many. We can't fight them," Dwalin growled from where he did the same as Fíli.

"See? The running," Meg muttered at his side. "Come on, let's go already."

"Indeed. Only one thing can save us now," Gandalf agreed, eyeing her as he turned to search out a path. "Daylight."

"So let's fucking go," Meg repeated, grabbing Rhi's arm and hauling her to her feet. "Kick it into gear, bitches. That way."

In the bright morning sunlight, everything seemed, for a moment, to be fine. Their Hobbit returned, having survived some adventure of his own, and though his uncle was- as Meg would have put it- an ass, Bilbo remained with their party.

But nearby, despite Rhi leaning against her and breathing hard, his warrior seemed… uneasy. And Fili had learned to trust that unease explicitly.

"Something's coming," he said quietly to Kíli. "Prepare yourself."

Kíli looked startled, but he followed Fili's nod toward the women and sudden thoughtfulness crossed his face. "Do you think it's because she knows things, about us? They both have heard our story. They know how it ends, right? Why don't they tell us?"

Fili often forgot that small fact, their knowing everything about how this quest would turn out. But there was more to it than that, he was certain. "She is attuned to the world. To its evils. There is something coming, whether predestined or not, and I will face it the same either way. We make our own destiny, brother."

And then the Wargs began to howl.

| Azaghâl Masterlist| Meg James Masterlist| lilbardrhi masterlist|

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Ten: Islên

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

{Khuzdul; falling}

Oh for fuck's sake, I thought as the mountain in front of us suddenly stood up like a creaky old man. I'd forgotten this part, because honestly- Tolkien, what the fuck?

I could get behind orcs, Wargs, even the fucking goblin-king, but mountains throwing rocks at each other in the middle of a Mahal-taken thunderstorm while we were clinging to ledges like leeches was not something I was exactly cheerful to embrace. Especially with His Blind Majesty in the lead squinting into the darkness. But for some reason, he just wouldn't let me take over.

I'd remembered Bilbo almost going over a couple times, so I kept a close eye on him as the rain started picking up and the path got narrower and narrower. I hated this. I hate heights. I hate narrow ledges.

"Handrails," I muttered as we slid along the track barely wide enough for the hobbit and the dwarves. As the only tall person in the group with Gandalf and Rhi staying behind, I was feeling a bit giant-like and questioning if I shouldn't have hung out with them and bitched out Saruman myself instead. "Middle Earth should really look into them. Where's OSHA when you- fuck."

Bilbo slipped, and he was too far away for me to do anything but watch, heart in my throat and back pressed firmly against the slippery rock myself, as Dwalin managed to save him. Something was bothering me, gnawing at the edges of memory, and Thorin yelling the obvious didn't help.

My eyes widened as the shape appeared out of the darkness, and I yelled it a second before Dwalin did. "Look out!"

The entire fucking boulder sailing through the air slammed into the mountain above us and shattered, sending a cascading avalanche of various-sized death onto our already precarious position. I did the only thing I could think to do, whipping out the axes Fi had given me and hooking them into a crevice, holding on by sheer force of will.

I'd really have liked some of that fucking magic they kept claiming I had to grow some wings right about now.

And then I remembered the rock giants. "Oh, fuck," I swore fervently, right as Balin announced their presence. "Kíli, get a good grip."

"Well, bless me," Bofur said in awe. "The legends are true! Giants! Stone giants!"

I'd be having a conversation with him about that when we made it to safety- if we made it to safety, I wasn't entirely sure I'd survive this one- but now was so not the time, especially for him to be moving closer to the edge. For once, I agreed with Thorin as he called Bofur a fool and told him to take cover.

"What fucking cover!" I shouted back anyway, because why would I let him know I agreed with him on anything? Grouch-Ass had been particularly grouchy since we snuck out of Rivendell, especially about Rhi and I.

I'd confronted him almost immediately when Ori had said something about missing Story Time and Thorin had made some comments. Turns out, he knew about the whole Rhi and Kíli situation, and he was pissy about how she'd treated his nephew when he'd called her his One.

Personally, I found the entire concept disgusting and ridiculous. Soulmates didn't exist. There were people who clicked and then worked hard to have a relationship that worked for them and there were people who clicked and didn't put in the work and there were people who just didn't click. And there certainly wasn't one singular soul destined for yours, and good luck finding the poor bastard. That was some romanticist bullshit if I'd ever heard it, and I couldn't believe these very-practical dwarves really believed in that shit. Especially Thorin.

But my best friend was definitely one of the believing in soulmates types, and she'd been horrified that Kíli said it, despite also believing him to be hers. The horror came from knowing what was supposed to happen to him, to Thorin's majestic ass, to- to Fi. It wouldn't happen; I'd fix it- at least for the purposes of mine and Rhi's shared acid trip- and they'd be fine after we met back up and I got to have a nice long conversation with her. Also, I needed to have one with Kíli as well, damn it. Back to the top of the agenda, right under the whole not-dying thing that was definitely more important right now.

Wouldn't do to have won my bet with Fi just to die squished by a rock giant or falling off of one, after all.

Naturally, the ledge we were clinging to choose that moment to split apart, right between Fí and I. His eyes were wild as he stared across the growing gap at me and his brother, his hand extended.

And that was the last I saw of him as the stone giant we were unwilling passengers on took a hit and started going down. "Shit, shit, shit," I chanted under my breath, knowing what was coming next was an extremely uncomfortable sprint-and-leap to the safety of a non-moving ledge before this guy got taken down and we had a heart attack thinking the other half of the party was being turned into jelly.

The other half of the party with Fí in it. Fucking hell.

I knew they were fine, but my eyes were searching out the other knee for a glimpse of his gold hair, even though I knew in the rain it was dulled and under a hood and I'd never see it in this mess. Plus, you know, needed to be doing the whole surviving thing right now on my own, what with our escape hatch rapidly approaching.

I forced myself to pay attention, freeing the axes I was using as climbing hooks at the last possible second and performing more of a wild leap than I was pleased about to reach the ledge. My foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment I thought I would discover the hard way if dying in this dream meant dying back on Earth, but my flailing hand sunk the blade into the rocks and jerked me to a stop as hands grasped my other arm and pulled with the packed strength of dwarves.

Thorin himself stared into my no-doubt wild eyes as I breathed hard and tried to get my shit together, and I nodded my thanks. He nodded back, just once, an acknowledgement that I was earning my place here among them despite being female and, regrettably, human. I'd taken on the trolls, help evade detection in our great (unnecessary) escape from Rivendell, taken on orcs that were too close, that they hadn't even known were there. I was doing something right, for Thorin to save my life himself, pulling me back to my feet with a warrior's hand clasp on my arm.

Then rocks started raining down again, because of course they did, and we flung ourselves back against the meagre cover of the mountainside.

The giant our friends were on stumbled, his knee flying our way long enough for me to seek out and find Fí's eyes, terrified and determined, before they were gone again.

"Come on, come on, come on," I chanted under my breath, waiting for the moment-

Please don't let our presence have fucked this part up, I pleaded as the giant was struck, stumbled, and fell.

"No!" Thorin roared, his heart in his voice, and I was reminded of why I put up with his grouchy tendencies.

Then he ruined it by yelling for Kíli, who was right behind him. Blind bat.

"It's Fí," I snarled, already moving past him for the bend in the ledge before the knee had pulled away empty. "Come on!"

Around the corner, lungs tight as my heart pounded, and-

There they were, in a laughing, breathless pile. I let out a sigh of relief, turning slightly away as I got my face under control. No need for them to know I was petrified these days that anything we chose, Rhi and I, might fuck up part of the story we knew. I needed a plan to save these stupid Durins, after all, not prematurely take one of them out.

I turned back with a smirk on my lips despite the still-lashing rain, and crossed my arms as Fí and the others found their feet. "Quit lazing around, would you? We need a place to get out of this Mahal-forsaken rain."

Thorin shot me a look as he moved past me, but his relief was as strong as mine so there was no force in it. And then it hit me, with Ale Uncle Bofur's wild look around, seconds before the words left his lips. "Where's Bilbo? Where's the hobbit?"

I dove for the edge where I suddenly remembered he was dangling, sliding on my stomach to grab the back of his shirt and- hopefully- haul him back up. Only I misjudged the slickness of the rocks, slid a little too far, and almost hit the poor guy in the face as I grabbed at him. I managed to snatch his shirt, but for a second, I thought I was going over with him, and probably taking us both down into the brink as my balance wavered.

Then hands clamped on my legs, pulling me backward, and I was very, very grateful once again for dwarvish strength as I held on to Bilbo as tightly as I could. "Come on," I ground out through gritted teeth as we moved back miniscule bit by bit. "That's it, come on. You're fine, man, you're fine."

Bilbo looked into my eyes with an expression that said he very much did not agree with my assessment, thank you very much, but more hands were grabbing at him, pulling him up by the shoulders and shirt and whatever else they could grab, and I slumped back against the rock, sitting on my ass in the wet and staying put as I tried to remember how breathing worked when the adrenaline wasn't pumping like crazy.

I was going to crash so hard the minute we had a chance, wasn't I? Oh, fucking hell. "Fuck," I muttered, running a shaking hand over my face. "That was unpleasant."

"Azaghâl."

I looked up at Fí- an unusual experience- as Thorin was pulled back over the edge by a very determined Dwalin, that adrenaline pumping again, because fuck me, I was forgetting a lot right now, wasn't I? Living it was wildly different than reading or watching-

"Fí, is-"

"Are you-"

We stared at each other, and I let Thorin be an ass to Bilbo because Fi was looking at me like that, in the heavy rain, and my hands were shaking and all I wanted was to fall into his arms and feel everything that had just happened for a little while.

I couldn't do that, I reminded myself. Not right now, not ever. There was no falling into Fí's arms. Absolutely not.

"Dwalin!" Thorin called, voice sharp and asshole-ish again, and I gritted my teeth and reminded myself he'd just gone through the same hell I had, without the reassuring knowledge that no one died here. He cared. It was what made him so damn angry about things. Right? Right.

Fí extended a hand and pulled me to my feet, his hand lingering in mine before I pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "Uncle has found shelter. We can escape this rain."

"Yeah, it's the rain that's the problem," I said automatically. "Not the giants or the boulders."

He smothered a laugh as we watched everyone else ducking in, keeping an eye on the sky and the path- what little there was of it- and the still moving giants in the distance. Watching their backs, as he always did. And I stayed at his side, because where else would I be?

And I tried very hard not to think about that too much, or about how his hand had felt clamped so tightly around mine.

"Well, the wet hasn't helped your hair anyway, eagle. I'll redo those braids for you when we've got camp set up."

I gulped. It was strange enough, his hands in my hair, before we'd- before. Now, knowing it was such an intimate thing, and- he was still ok with it? "I- ok."

"Unless you'd prefer I didn't?" he asked, hesitating just under the overhang. His eyes held something, some emotion boiling under the teasing expression he kept in place. "Too intimate for friends then? My uncle could-"

I scoffed. "Your uncle would cut his hands off first and stare me in the eyes while doing it. Yes, please. Yours hold better anyway. His were pretty, but, damn."

"He does not see you as the warrior you are," Fí agreed. "He gave you a woman's hair."

"You may not have noticed, but I am a woman," I said dryly.

He turned and ran his eyes up and down my body, lust and appreciation clear in the look. "Oh, I am well aware, azaghâl."

Fucking hell. Heat flushed through me, but I rolled my eyes at him and flipped him off. "Shut up," I muttered. "Oh, good. Thorin's glaring at us. Time for chores."

| Azaghâl Masterlist| Meg James Masterlist| lilbardrhi masterlist|

[megjameswrites]

an entirely new world is coming soon....

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Nine: Khuzd allâkhulé

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

Send some love over to the LilBard on her part if you're enjoying this series. She needs the author dragon fed!

[Khuzdul, my stupid dwarf]

Thorin had about two more seconds to stop talking to Fí like that or I was coming for his head.

And yes, I knew I was crabby and short tempered from too much time walking and not enough asleep- goddamn Dwalin and his snores- but honestly. If his Bitchy Gay Majesty didn't stop-

Thorin walked away, and I realized I had a hand clenched around my axe, teeth grinding together. Fí's eyebrows shot up when he saw me, and he grabbed my elbow and hustled me toward the edge of camp.

"Azaghâl? What in Mahal's name is wrong with you?" he asked, voice low as he studied my face.

I scoffed, tossing hair from my face and jerking my chin in Thorin's direction. "Are you shitting me? Your fucking uncle was being a dick!"

"My uncle is often, as you put it, a dick. Eagle, you haven't let go of your axe since we made camp, and you're playing with one of your knives now. What is wrong?"

Huh. I frowned down at where I, sure enough, was holding my axe drawn at my side and forced myself to stop running my fingers down the handle of my knife. "I don't know," I said slowly. "Fí. I'm all- on edge. Restless."

He gave me a concerned look as I slowly scanned the clearing we'd made camp in. Bombur was cooking over the small fire. Dwalin and Thorin were deep in discussion, Balin nearby listening with half an ear as he talked to Ori. The others were doing various Thorin-appointed chores, and-

I was drawn tighter than Kíli's bowstring with the arrow about to fly and a Warg in the sight. Something was nagging at the back of my mind, and try as I might, I could not relax.

"We need to… go wander around," I said slowly. "Over there. I think- I must have seen something as we rode in. I don't know what, but we need to go."

Fí looked like he wanted to ask a string of questions, but he glanced from me to Thorin and nodded. "Come then. The others are busy. We will do a swift patrol. Settle your nerves."

"Are you humoring me?" I asked caustically, but I was already moving. "And shouldn't we tell the Royal Asshole?"

Fí snorted softly and set a hand on my back to hustle me into the trees faster. "No, to both. Uncle Thorin would either ignore you or send all of us or make us ride on. None of those seem reasonable when we two can go check for whatever it is that you sense- I mean, that you saw. Are you suggesting we cannot eliminate any threat together, or alert the others in plenty of time? Warrior, we two can do anything."

"Cocky bastard," I muttered, rolling my eyes as we slid into the trees unnoticed by everyone else. But I was starting to smile, the tension in my shoulders starting to relax.

I enjoyed him way too much, I thought for the thousandth time. It was going to get me into trouble. Hell, it probably just had. But I couldn't deny that as soon as we fell in together, blades drawn, I felt a thousand times better.

And I absolutely wasn't thinking about things that we did last time we were alone together. I deliberately didn't look his way until I was sure I could keep any memory of that off my face, since I wasn't sure he had any memory of it at all.

We'd both been pretty drunk and neither of us had said a word to each other after. He'd stared into my eyes, half-hard inside me and both of us breathing hard, until a noise in the corridor had us springing apart. I'd taken one look at the careful blankness on Lindir's face and practically run from the room.

I'd avoided him the next day, and we'd been far less than our usual selves while on the road. I was worried about Rhi being left behind with Gandalf- to deal with fucking Saruman, no less- and Kili was being... well, he was in the pit of despair over what had happened between the two of them. Rhi was probably doing the same, or having a solid freak-out still, and Thorin was even more short-tempered and more-majestic-than-thou than usual, which triggered my desperate need to push all of his buttons and see how long it took him to explode. Plus, sneaking out was not exactly conducive to mine and Fí's usual antics, right?

Fine. I was bitchy since we’d snuck out of Rivendell and I might have still been bitchy, except Fí seemed so utterly unbothered I was starting to wonder if I'd dreamed the whole damn thing. But no. No, there was no way in hell I could have come up with that shit. My imagination is good, yeah.

But not that good.

Yeah, it was time to think about something else, wasn't it? Like he read my damn mind- Judas fuck I hope not- Fí touched my arm and gestured. I nodded, and we split up, both of us moving through the trees carefully.

Woodcraft wasn't completely new to me when we landed here, but I sure as hell wasn't anything resembling practiced at it. I'd grown up in and out of the woods, but it wasn't like I was in them every day, and I certainly didn't spend all that much of my time trying not to alert potential enemies to my approach with a misplaced snap of a twig underfoot. I sort of thought maybe I should spend some time chatting with Gandalf about that whole magic bullshit, because there were a few things here that weren't adding up to four, if you know what I mean.

Like the way I knew without a doubt that trouble was ahead, and the way I sort of thought it was Orcs but I couldn't have told a soul why I thought that. It was something in the air. Something-

Oh, who the fuck knew. I was being dramatic. Rhi was the witch, with her healing and Disney Princess Animal Speech and all that bullshit. I was just developing a much, much better sense of my surroundings, that was all. I'd seen something, some orc sign on the way by, that wouldn't let me rest until we'd checked it out.

Of course, there was the little matter of the whole Spiderman-meme-glowing-eyes-moment that happened in Rivendell, and the way I'd felt there, and-

No, now I really was being dramatic, and I ground my teeth together in annoyance at myself. It'd been sex. It'd been really, really, really good sex, but for shit's sake it was sex. After damn near a week of flirting and lead-up and then somehow, always, finding my almost-willing-partner suddenly wasn't so willing anymore. And after who the fuck even knew how long it had been.

No, really, I'd already lost track on my earth, before we ended up here. So honestly, who the fuck even knew how long it had been by the time Fí had given me that damn look and turned me into angry, turned-on goo.

But I was absolutely not going to make some goddamn big romantic mystical deal out of it. It was just sex, and I was so not going to be that girl. And if the way Fí was acting was any indication, it had been as much about blowing off some steam for him as it was for me.

I'd mention it if I needed to, I decided. Just to clear the air. Because we'd been acting weird, even if I didn't want to admit it; and I enjoyed my friend and fellow troublemaker. I might not be that girl who romanticized the hell out of getting laid, but I also flat refused to be the one who let it get between her and a friend, either.

Decision made, I thought maybe I'd feel less restless. I was wrong.

I scowled at the rocky outcropping up ahead, because something about it just did not feel right, and I couldn't seem to put my finger on what it was. But whatever it was, I didn't want to go up there, and I didn't want Fí to either. That was a problem, since he was circling around from the other side and I had no way of telling him I most indubitably thought it was a shitty plan.

And that's when the ring of steel on steel came from the other side of the rocks, as well as a muffled shout.

"Damn it, Fíli," I muttered, and ran right in.

"Your uncle is going to murder me in my sleep."

"Oh, he won't wait until you sleep," Fí said, voice strained despite the teasing tone.

I tightened the bandage on his arm more securely and shot him a glare. "That isn't funny. Neither is this. We're going to be in so damn much trouble."

"Yes," he agreed. "We are. But I'll get us out of it again, azaghâl. Don't worry."

Damn overconfident Durin idiot. "How the hell are you going to do that? Don’t tell me not to fucking worry. You got cut and I have a truly impressive black eye!"

He stared at my face in mock surprise as he pulled his thick fur coat back on. "Oh, is that not just how you look, then?"

"Fuck you!" I snapped without thinking.

Something flickered across his face, and he turned away muttering. I stared at the back of his head as he surveyed the remains of the orc camp I'd found.

That had sounded suspiciously like 'I thought I already did'. Dwarvish bastard. We were so going to fight, weren't we?

"I'll admit, Uncle Thorin is going to be angry. But the fact that we ended them, and that we knew of them at all, will lessen it," Fí said, tone thoughtful. He bent and retrieved one of his many knives, wiping it clean on an orc's head. "There is no way you could have seen sign of them from our approach, warrior, so don't try to say it. You need to speak to the wizard, but as he is not with us at the moment, my uncle will have to do. Come. We need to return."

I wanted to protest, but I scanned the rocks again and knew he was right.

Maybe I was a witch after all.

Thorin was, in fact, pissed as hell. He was yelling, but it wasn't until he got up in my face that either Fí or I argued back. I narrowed my eyes at the dwarf doing his best to intimidate me from six inches or more shorter than I was and spoke for the first time since announcing that we'd handled the orcs.

"Get out of my space, Thorin."

"You were reckless and endangered my nephew!"

"Oh please," I scoffed. "Your nephew ran into that fight before I did, and from an even worse position. Let's not pretend he didn't endanger his own damn self."

Thorin was practically vibrating, and I saw the way his hand twitched like he wanted to swing at me. I smiled, more than willing to go around with the grouchy bear, but Fí's voice broke our stare down.

"Uncle. Back away from the eagle before she uses her talons on you." His tone sounded amused, but I heard the pissed steel under it and glanced at Fí in surprise. After that tone, I was more worried about him losing his temper than I was about me.

Thorin snarled again, but Fí cut him off before he could speak. "She knew they were there, Uncle. She couldn't have seen them from the road; there is no way. But yet she knew they were there."

I sighed when Ori sucked in a breath and muttered ‘magic’. "I could have seen movement," I pointed out. "They weren't necessarily confined to that outcropping the whole time."

No one said anything, but Thorin had backed off, looking thoughtful. I glanced from him to Dwalin’s considering expression and groaned.

"Rhi’s the witch; I'm just a bitch!" I declared, a little desperately.

"How did you know it was orcs?" Fí asked.

"I didn't; I guessed."

He shot me a look like I was being dumb, and I refused to budge. Bofur stepped up to Fí's side and added his eyes to the others I could feel searing into me.

"She learned to fight far too fast," Dwalin put in, waving his war axe in my direction.

"You're just salty I threw you," I mumbled. My shoulders hunched against all the eyes, and I shifted to glare at Thorin again. "I don't honestly care if you're pissed at me. There was a problem; we handled it. Don't get up in my space like that again unless you want to fight."

Thorin started to respond, but thought better of it. He grunted, spun on his heel, and stalked away.

I went for my bedroll and refused to speak to anyone. I was too fuckin exhausted to keep my eyes open anymore.

The fire had been banked down to coals. Stars wheeled overhead, and I stared up at them, wondering how so many of my earth's constellations were the same here, just known by different names. Stars I recognized watched over us, and I should have found that reassuring.

I honestly just found it worrisome.

Then again, I might have found everything worrisome. That's probably why I was wide awake, something like four hours before dawn, when I didn't need to be.

Dwalin wasn't snoring. He hadn't drawn a watch tonight. Bombur was, but I'd learned to tune out Bombur's pretty quickly. It was Dwalin's bomb-going-off abomination that got to me so badly.

But he slept deeply and soundlessly, as did everyone but my favorite ale uncle, and I was honestly contemplating going over for a chat just to get the fuck out of my own head. There was a restless sigh a few bedrolls over from me, and I remained motionless as from the corner of my eye I saw someone sit up and shove a hand through lion-mane hair.

Well. Fí was awake, too. There went my plans of talking with Bofur.

Fí stared my way, by I lowered my eyelids until they were almost completely closed and I was barely looking out through the sweep of my lashes. I heard more than saw Fí get up and make his way to Bofur's spot.

"Has it been quiet?"

His voice was faint but it reached me, and I half-held my breath so I could better hear their conversation. Bofur grunted an affirmative, and I thought that was all he was going to do, but he continued after a pause.

"What's botherin' you then, lad?"

Fí hesitated. "Nothing worth mentioning. I seem to be awake, however. If you want to rest, I'll take the remainder of your watch. Three hours till sunrise, I'd estimate."

"Three and a half," Bofur agreed. "Nothing is wrong, but you volunteer for watch?"

"I'm awake," Fí said dryly. "No one else has to be."

"And you want to make a certain lass her coffee before she wakes."

Bofur's voice was full of teasing amusement, but Fí didn't respond. I opened my eyes to stare at the sky again when I heard Bofur pass. After a few minutes of silence, I risked turning my head to look at Fí.

He sat with his back to me, staring out at the dark forest, turning a whetstone over and over in his hands.

Damn it. I needed to talk to him. There were things that needed to be said, and it was damned obvious he was feeling the awkward as badly as I was. Thorin's chat while braiding my hair was weighing on my mind, and besides, it had just been a drunken mistake. That's all.

We were friends, and I was letting sex get in the way of that. Any morning before Rivendell, I'd have been at his side already, sharpening blades and exchanging quiet insults and confidences.

Fucking hell, I swore mentally, and tossed off the cloak I used as a blanket.

I slept in my boots, as did everyone else- boots and Fí's armor, because of course the dwarf had packed a spare set and given me his on our first morning with the Company. I shouldn't have been able to sleep. I shouldn't have been comfortable. On my old earth, I'd have been even more sleep-deprived and exhausted than I regularly was here.

But here, I'd adjusted with relative ease- to the sleeping arrangements and conditions as well as the weight of an axe along my back and the feel of a horse under me for hours on end. I missed my horse, damn it. Walking was significantly less fun.

I didn't understand why this world, this life, suited me so well.

Or why this dwarf did, I thought as I settled at his side. He didn't speak and neither did I, but he handed me the stone he'd been fiddling with. I stared at it in my hand, then pulled the knife from my belt and drew the blade along the stone.

It was like the familiar sound broke the discomfort filling the air. "So," Fí said.

"So," I agreed. "Think he's asleep?"

"Bofur? Yes. And if he is not, he is on the far side of the fire. It would take an elf to overhear us, as long as we are quiet."

I hesitated again, but hell. No backing down now. "We need to talk. About-"

"Yes," he agreed.

Neither of us said anything else.

"Damn it, Fí," I muttered.

He snorted and shot me a glare. "And why am I at fault here? Damn it yourself, azaghâl!"

In moments, we were grinning at each other and smothering laughter. That felt right, and he reached over and tugged on one of the braids he'd re-done in Rivendell. I rolled my eyes and smacked his hand, smile still on my lips.

"Fine. Damn us both. We're being weird about nothing, aren't we?" I asked, hoping he agreed. I couldn't deal with weird between us. Not now that I was so damn used to having him as a friend.

And we both knew we weren't going to be more than friends. Friends with benefits at the most, but after Thorin's warnings and how strongly I already felt about him, that seemed like a damn bad idea.

Besides, we were both drunk. That's all.

He grimaced and pulled a second whetstone from his belt, a blade mysteriously appearing in his hand. "I believe so, yes. Eagle, it is not that I did not enjoy myself, because I certainly did-"

"I know you did," I muttered snarkily, wicked smile on my lips as he tossed me a glare.

"Yes, thank you," he deadpanned back. "As I was saying. It is not that, but-"

"But we were both drunk, you're going to be king, you're too damn short, and I don't have a beard," I said easily when he hesitated. "Fí. I'm cool if you're cool. It was just all the damn sexual tension of that place, and Rhi and Kíli being obnoxious, and hell. It'd been awhile before I landed here. You know?"

He smiled down at the blade in his hands, drawing it over the stone automatically. "I do know. And yes, we were both intoxicated. But I was not that drunk, azaghâl."

"Oh, shut up, you big flirt."

He laughed lightly. "You would be disappointed if I stopped flirting with you."

"Right back at ya, babe."

We smiled again, and his knife disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared. He ran a finger down my cheek and pulled on my braids again. "Friends?" he asked softly.

"Never anything but, stupid dwarf," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"You know that is sometimes considered a term of endearment among our people."

Fí sounded way too damn amused and my eyes narrowed. "Of course it is. You're all idiots, that's why. Teach me how to say it anyway. I'll probably need to yell it at all of you."

He chuckled, but said something in his rolling native language, and I frowned and listened hard, trying to make out the syllables individually.

"Khuzd allâkhulé,” I repeated carefully.

Fi turned half-away with an odd smile as he corrected my pronunciation. I got it right, or at least right enough satisfy him, on the third try, and by the time the phrase rolled off my tongue almost as easily as it did his, I knew we were back on an even keel.

He rose a bit later, moved to the fire, and stoked the coals to life, hanging the kettle over it before coming back to sit at my shoulder and watch false dawn lighten the sky.

| Azaghâl Masterlist| Meg James Masterlist| lilbardrhi masterlist|

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Eight: Mahimrêl

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Smut, Sex, angry sex, public sex, 18+, MDNI, NSFW

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT- this is the chant I've been hearing for days from LilBardRhi leading up to this chapter.

[Khuzdul, fuck]

"Elves couple for life, you know."

"How very penguin-like of them," I said dryly, not taking my eyes from the painting of Isuldur confronting Sauron.

Fí paused, in the corner of my vision, like he didn't quite know what to do with that. "I do not know what that means," he said finally. "You will be unlikely to find one willing to lie with you, warrior. I thought you would wish to know."

I turned to him now, smile on my lips a little sharp, a little hungry. "Oh, I don't know. That elf-maid you ran off seemed willing enough. Pelingilel. Pretty name. Prettier girl."

"Eagle," Fí said, tone as frustrated as his expression.

"Lion," I shot back mockingly.

He sighed and downed the contents of his goblet, then leveled a finger and a glare my way. "You need to stop."

"Why?" I tilted my head to study him, his jaw tight as he studied me right back. "I'm unattached. And this place… Something about it," I murmured.

I stretched my arms up, so the tunic I'd tossed on after my bath- Fili's, actually- rode higher on the bare legs I had curled under me. I arched my back into the stretch and let out a throaty sound, half sigh and half groan, and I knew the unlaced opening of the tunic was giving him a nice view of the nothing I had on beneath it. When I settled, leaning on the arm of the bench, I watched him watch me until I chuckled.

His eyes snapped to mine as I rose, holding his gaze.

"I feel good here. Rested and… restless," I said with a lazy shrug.

He muttered in Khuzdul and turned away, crossing to the small table nearby that held a pitcher. I thought it might be water, but hell, it could have been something stronger.

He cursed again and I laughed when he fumbled the pitcher and splashed red wine all along the table instead of into his goblet. Shaking my head, genuinely amused, I reached for the pitcher to take it from him.

"You're drunk, Fí," I informed him.

He shot me a smoldering look as my hand brushed his. "And you're- something."

I thought about his hand, warm under mine, and the way it felt with his fingers in my hair in the firelight. Intimate, indeed, I thought, and I trailed my fingertips along the back of his hand and toward his wrist. "I'm many things."

"Sleeping with one of them is a poor decision."

Like quicksilver, the restless, churning ache that had been filling me since we'd crossed into this place- or maybe since the Wargs had attacked, I honestly wasn't sure- flashed over into anger. Anger came easily to me, and Fíli Durin thinking he had any right to run off my choices of companion all week and then come tell me I needed to stop-

I scoffed and snatched his goblet from him, pouring it steadily despite hands that trembled. I sipped as I turned away, heading back for my bench. "Why? Why is it such a terrible thing for me to be in some elf's bed tonight?"

His hand locked around my wrist and he jerked me back toward him. Instantly, I flung the goblet in his face, anger turning to fury and need I didn't want to admit. He knocked the damn thing aside and pulled on my arm again, until I lost my balance and half-fell onto the bench with a hiss of irritation.

He gripped my shoulders and pinned my back against the wall, his legs pressing against my knees until I opened them automatically. Breath caught in my throat, I licked suddenly dry lips and watched the way his eyes heated as they followed the motion.

"Because," he growled, leaning in so close I could see every shade of blue swirling in his eyes.

"Because why?" I whispered. I watched his lips as he half-grimaced, frustrated sound rumbling low in his throat before he finally snapped, shaking me slightly.

"Because I want you in mine!"

His mouth claimed mine, hard and angry and urgent, and I arched into hands that shifted from pinning me back to pulling me toward him.

It was like he was a magnet and I was a blade, caught and helpless and not at all unwilling. I heard the needy moan that slipped from me when his hands slid up and into my braids, winding them all around his fingers and yanking my head back so he could bite his way down my neck in fast, sharp stings.

"Fí. Oh, shit, Fí," I muttered, clutching handfuls of his tunic as sensation lit my body up like a torch in the night.

He snarled, mouth pressed open and hot against my pulse, and I shivered hard.

"We shouldn't stay here." He trailed his fingers over my bare thigh, playing with the hem of my tunic until I thought I'd go fucking mad, lack of movement on his part at odds with the words.

"Why not?" I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my point, already so aroused I didn't give a shit who saw.

They could mock us until the end of time if they wanted; this dwarf was going to fuck me, and please god, he was going to do it now.

His hand went flat and tightened on my thigh when I rocked my hips against him. "Stop that! We're- my room is not far, azaghâl. Come on."

"No." I held him stubbornly in place when he would have pulled away. "Here. Now. Fí."

He stared at me, eyes wild, and I took the opportunity to yank his own tunic from his trousers and get my hands on his skin. His eyes closed as he sucked in a harsh breath, and I smiled and hooked my fingers under the edge of his trousers.

"Eagle…" he said, tone warning but weakening. "Why?"

I shrugged when he opened his eyes to look at me and bit at my lip. "I'm here. You're here. I'm not wearing anything under this, so it'll be easy. Why not?"

His expression went dark and deadly, the same look I'd seen when we'd been encircled by the wargs and I'd drawn axe to stand against them. Moving like lightening, that warrior's controlled burst of action without any advertisement it was coming, he had his hand between my legs, two fingers thrusting brutal and deep inside.

He snarled in Khuzdul and I half-laughed around the gasp he'd summoned, and he curled his fingers and drew them slowly, so slowly, out again.

"See?" I whispered, and let my head fall back and my eyes flutter closed. I moaned, soft but passionate, as he continued stroking his fingers in and out. "Easy."

"Silence, azaghâl. This is foolish."

"This is hot, and you know it," I teased, writhing against the brick behind me when he thrust in fast and hard again. I shot him a sly look. "Admit it."

He didn't speak, but his eyes spoke wonders as they travelled my body. I ran my hand down his arm to grip his wrist, lifting my hips to meet the next movement of the hand I'd known would be as strong and competent at this as it was at swordplay.

I twined my other hand in his hair, tugging until his lips met mine. He thrust his fingers in a little quicker, a little harder, and I moaned into his mouth as pleasure built in a steady, sweeping flood.

"No," he ordered calmly against my lips. "Not yet."

My eyes shot wide and I glared at him, already panting and so goddamn close. "Why the fuck not?"

"Because I said so."

I scoffed and pulled away, even as he bit at my lip and sent me that much closer to the edge. "Fuck off. I don't play that kind of game. I'll come when I'm ready to."

He laughed, letting go abruptly and breaking away to study me sprawled disheveled on the bench. I glared, and he shrugged. "You'll get there alone then."

"Oh, you think that's a problem for me?" I said sweetly, and trailed my fingers up my own thigh, spreading my legs open wider and propping my foot up on the bench to give him a better view. "I play just fine all… by… myself."

He stared as I swirled my fingers higher on my thigh, arching against the stone and running my other hand down my body and back up. I licked my lips and let my eyes close, because dwarf or not, I needed to come and I needed it yesterday.

His hands closed over my wrists, lifting my arms and pinning my hands against the wall behind me. "No," he whispered, voice so goddamn commanding I froze. "Mine."

"Yes, your highness," I mumbled, going for mocking. Considering how I stayed still, eyes wide, and the smug way he smiled, I probably didn't succeed. He kissed me lightly and let go of my hands, and I kept them where he'd left them as he undid the ties on his trousers.

He pulled me closer by my hips, and I wrapped my legs around him again. He slid inside me with a groan as I dug my nails into his back and set my teeth into his shoulder to keep from half-sobbing his name.

Mahal, I needed this.

He seemed to be in as much of a fucking hurry as I was, all puns intended, as he buried himself hard and deep inside me. "Azaghâl," he breathed against my neck, then skimmed his mouth up my neck and to my lips as he moved.

I was gasping with each slow, sharp thrust, everything narrowing to just him and his body against and inside mine. He mumbled against my lips, neither of us kissing anymore, really- more just lips resting against each other as he fucked me hard but slow, a torturous combination that had me clawing my way up, up, up in a frenzied climb sure to end in a terrifying free-fall.

Teetering on the edge, I mumbled some of his Khuzdul back to him, sounds and phrases I understood without knowing what in the hell I was saying, and he shuddered, his fingers gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise as he kept to his tormenting pace with obvious difficulty.

I took his face in my hands and called his name as I fell, and he pressed his lips hungrily to mine and followed me down.

Panting, we stared at each other in the sudden stillness. That just happened.

That just fucking- oh shit.

A footstep sounded in the hallway, perilously close, and Fí jerked away, hauling his breeches into place and fleeing without a word.

Fuck, I thought, shoving a shaking hand through my hair.

| Azaghâl Masterlist| Meg James Masterlist| lilbardrhi masterlist|

[lilbardrhi]

Status: WIP (1/3/2026)

Pairings: Kíli x Original Female Character; Fíli x Original Female Character

Content Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary:

Join Meg & Rhi in the continuation of their journey through Middle Earth with Thorin's Company!

How will they do walking Mirkwood's halls? Convinvincing Laketown to aid them? And what about the dragon, Smaug, himself? Not to mention the tension building between the two witches and two Dwarven princes.

Will Megli (as Rhi so graciously dubbed them) find a foothold? Or will Thorin keep them from such? Then there's Kíwi... will they ever get a chance to discuss Kíli's announcement? What does Mirkwood mean for those two, specifically?

Find out these answers, and more, as we continue the story with The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug!

Author's Note: Ayo! We're back and still rolling (as of my posting this LOL)! I'm stupid stoked to have finished T-V:TH:A Very Unexpected Journey after six years and am absolutely hyped to share more of the story with everyone.~ Don't forget to check out @megjameswrites for MORE T-V content from Meg's POV (supplemental)!

Chapters

1: ...

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Seven: Zahahyad

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

screaming, crying, throwing up over lilbardrhi finishing A Very Unexpected Journey! Buckle up for more Meg content....

{Khuzdul; respect}

P!nk echoed in my head as the boys arrived to breathlessly tell everyone what I already knew- we were all going to get a fight. (So, so what?- anyway.) I checked the axes I'd been given by Fí, nerves rising over the excitement. It was my first fight. The first real test of my new skills; the first real chance to prove I could take care of myself.

Or the first chance to prove I couldn't. And maybe get killed.

If we died here, would we wake up on our earth? Or would we just die?

"Three of them," I called to Thorin after Fí breathlessly announced the trolls' presence. I probably shouldn't have- it was one of those things I knew but they weren't supposed to- but I wanted them as prepared as possible.

Wouldn't it be fun to change not just this story, but Frodo's as well? If the trolls were slain by the Dwarves and a couple of humans, how would that change things? To not be statues under which Aragorn and Arwen tried to heal Frodo?

Well, shit. I paused as a thought hit me. How much of this world were we changing? What would it mean for everything to come if we- when we, I corrected myself, eyes straying to Fíli and Kíli readying their weapons with the rest of the Company- when we saved them, what would it mean?

I didn't exactly have time for more philosophical musings, however, because Thorin was collecting his fighters and leading the charge forward. I glanced at Rhi, her eyes wide, and considered suggesting she stay behind. She wouldn't, but-

Fuck. Too late now. We charged along behind Thorin, who gestured to Kíli when we got close. He moved to his uncle's side and Rhi grabbed my arm like a damn vise.

"Judas, woman," I hissed. "What the hell?"

"We're going to actually fight them," she declared, sounding panicked. "We're-"

"Shhh. Yes, we are. Hang back, let them do most of it." My eyes were on the trolls, weighing, considering, evaluating. Dear fuck, those bastards were big. "We can just be support team. Oh, shit, we're starting."

Kíli fired, right as Bilbo was nearly sent down a troll's throat. Bilbo fell to the ground, the trolls looked around, pissed and mean, and Thorin did something dramatic. Fíli's hand brushed mine.

"Steady, azaghâl. You'll be fine. Follow my lead," he murmured.

The glen exploded into action.

It was nothing like the movies. I mean, it was- like the movies, but not like 'the movies' in general. It was loud, it was exhausting, and it was terrifying.

It was also exhilarating.

I followed lion-like Fíli into battle, watching in awe at the way he moved, as I always did. This time, however, it wasn't one brief glimpse and then on to all the others, or like when we trained and I was watching to openings. This time I got to really see him, in full hunting glory.

It was a dance, him and the enemy, and for once I danced with him. We moved together, all those times going against one another leaving us perfectly attuned. He struck one side, I struck at the other. An axe whipped from his hand and I snatched it from the air, slashing at the back of one of the giant idiots' legs.

We could do this, I thought as joy thrummed through my body. My muscles sang with it, with the movements familiar and yet foreign, and I timed my leap perfectly as one of the massive hands swept toward me. I shoved off of the grasping fingers, darted up the arm, and took a running leap to throw myself toward his face, axe flying for one of his eyes.

My aim was true, but my jump wasn't. I hit the ground, hard, all the breath rushing from my lungs with the sudden slam of pain. Gravity was not my friend, I decided as I lay there dazed.

"Azaghâl, left!"

For as directionally challenged as I'd always believed myself to be, my body reacted while my brain was still working out what had just happened and how I'd ended up where I was. I rolled, and a foot slammed down, smashing the ground where my head had been moments before. I decided it was time to get out of my own way and let my body do what it clearly knew to, without thinking too hard about what it was I happened to be involved in.

Fí appeared then, running between the legs of the howling, half-blinded motherfucker I'd accidentally fallen from, swords in each hand ringing as they connected. He slid to a stop in front of me, and I leaned forward and plucked a knife from his arm, whirled, and hurled it toward the scrawny- for a troll- bastard I knew would be grabbing for Bilbo any second now.

Unfortunately, I missed. "Damn it!"

"Put down your arms, or we'll rip his off!"

"Damn it!" I snarled again, breathing hard as I waited for Thorin's cue. I'd really, really wanted to change this part of the story.

On the other hand, all the 'parasites' shit really was entertaining. I kept one eye on Fi and the other on the sky, smile flickering as Gandalf moved from rock to rock.

"Idiots," I muttered as the trolls turned to stone. "I got him. I'd have had his other eye if I hadn't-"

"Completely mistimed everything and fallen on your face? Yes, you really had him on the run."

I rolled my eyes at Fí, guzzling water from my canteen while the others finished donning their armor and sorting out which weapons belonged to who. "Fuck off. I did good. Got more of him than you did."

"The lass did well enough, I suppose," Dwalin grunted. "Both of them."

"I was in a tree shooting," Rhi said dryly.

I glanced over and found Kíli hovering close to her, and immediately looked away so she wouldn't see my smirk. I had a bet to win, damn it. I couldn't encourage what was happening, no matter how much I wanted to.

Damn dwarf had it bad, and she didn't even realize it. Oh well. She would eventually.

"And you hit your target," Dwalin agreed. "That's the best could be ask of ye."

I turned in a slow circle, scanning the clearing with a frown. It must have been the fight still singing in my veins, but something tugged at my senses, keeping my shoulders tense and my feet restless. I moved away from the others, drawing in deep breaths to clear my head and settle my nerves.

"You did better than well, no matter what Dwalin says."

I flashed a smile toward Fí, some of the tension easing as he brought me the axe I'd left in the troll's eye. "Thanks. It felt- good. It felt right. Like-" I cut myself off, clicking my mouth shut around what I'd been about to say.

"Like what?"

Damn dwarf. From the sparkle in his eyes, he knew. He knew exactly what I was going to say.

Well, fuck it. "It felt like really, really excellent sex."

He laughed, loud and surprised, and the look in his eyes said he understood before he winked and offered to do some experiments to compare. I rolled my eyes and we kept the light banter, back and forth, before I sobered up and turned to him.

"Thank you, Fí," I said softly.

He seemed surprised, taken back by the sincerity in my voice. "For what?"

"For teaching me. For being right there at my back. For the warning that saved me from a very undignified death," I added with a grimace as I saw the massive foot coming at my head in my mind's eye.

He chuckled, reaching out to link his fingers through mine, and he held on tighter than I'd expected as I gripped back. Before he could speak, Rhi was calling for us to join in the search for the troll horde.

Alerting Kíli that Rhi did, indeed, find dwarves attractive was worth both the stench from the horde and the ribbing from Fi about whether or not I found them attractive as well. I ignored him, too focused on that one hill out there, despite Radaghast and his rabbits. Something between my shoulder blades felt like electricity, and there was-

I couldn't explain it. But something was out there, and it felt… dark.

Oh, fuck. Right as the howl sounded, I remembered that this was the part where the running began. With the orcs and the wargs. No wonder I'd been fixated- my subconscious still knew this story like the back of my goddamn hand and was waiting for the next fight to begin.

I wanted to fight them. I wanted to take them on, Rhi understanding the demon dogs or not, and see how many I could kill before they took me down with them, but Fi grabbed my arm and hustled me into the crevice and Gandalf's mysterious path.

He was right, of course. There were too many of them and too few of us. But leaving them alive was like a splinter in the back of my neck, at least until the elvish hunting horns sounded, and slowly, slowly, the splinter grew smaller and faded away.

Elrond wouldn't allow them to live. By the time we reached Rivendell, the restless feeling of pain and annoyance had faded into a different kind of restlessness, a charged energy that filled me from head to toe and had me thinking about taking Fi up on his offer to compare a battle with sex. And if that was where my brain was going, I needed to chill the fuck out, like now.

But goddamn it, I couldn't stop thinking about the way he moved in the fight, leonine and powerful. The way his eyes flashed, the way he looked at me as an equal on the field, a partner in the wild dance.

Shit, I thought, and forced my eyes away from him to the elves surrounding us. I needed to get fucking laid. Maybe one of these warriors would do, because Fili was a goddamn bad idea.

He found me after the bath, sitting with my tunic clutched to my chest while the pretty elf Cadhrien laid strips of cloth over my back that had been soaked in a kingswort tincture. I'd said it was nothing, and I meant it, but shit. She was pretty, and she was fussing over the massive bruise I hadn't even registered was there until she'd gasped at the sight of it.

"Azaghâl, what's taking you so- Mahal! What happened?"

I waved him off. "My own stupidity, hitting the ground after I mistimed my jump. It's just a bruise."

"Is it? There are cuts as well. Where my armor cut into you."

"Your armor?" Cadhrien asked, her voice far cooler than it had been before Fí burst into the room. "I see. Well. I have done what I could for you, milady. I will withdraw."

I turned to look at her, surprised at the abrupt exit. I'd thought I'd get lucky with her, honestly, and had been enjoying the feeling of her slim fingers ghosting along my bare skin, thinking about getting them into other places. Clearly that wouldn't be happening, I thought with a scowl at her retreating back, and turned my attention to the dwarf responsible for- well, not cockblocking me, but close enough. "What was that for?"

"I came to check on you. I have no idea what you're- Your back. Is it painful?" Seeming oblivious to my state of undress- which I absolutely was not- he skimmed his fingers down my shoulder blade and I fought not to shiver.

A single touch, I thought as the wild, desperate neediness I'd required a cold bath and a long conversation with Cadhrien to tame came roaring back to life, and I was on fire. How the hell- Did he not feel it, too?

I was painfully aware of the tunic clutched to my chest, and how easy it would be to simply… let it go. But he wasn't interested in me that way, and I knew better than to get tangled up with him. He was my best friend here, aside from Rhi. If I fucked that up with sex, I'd never forgive myself. He was too damned important.

"It's nothing," I managed after a hard swallow. "I didn't even feel it until Cadhrien pointed it out, honestly."

He was silent, but his fingers slid over my skin, probing in places as if testing for broken bones. I hissed when he pushed too hard on a particularly tender spot. His fingers disappeared from my skin like he'd been burned.

Before he could touch me again, I yanked his tunic over my head. "I'm fine, Fi. Where are the others?"

"Gathering for a meal," he said after a pause. I turned to find him holding my weapons out, his eyes averted and his cheeks a faint red.

"Fíli Durin, are you blushing?"

He shot a glare my way. "You were half-naked."

"And you liked it," I fired back immediately. "Didn't you?"

He flashed me a crooked grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. I stopped trying to dress and grabbed at his sleeve. "What's wrong, Fi?"

"Nothing. I- Azaghâl. I made light of it before, but you fought like you have all your life. I don't believe your rank of golden belt in your art of self-defense is correct anymore. Even my uncle spoke to me earlier about his respect for your skills today," he said, reaching for my hand and gripping my wrist.

I clasped his in turn, a warrior's handshake of respect that meant more to me than all the praises Cadhriel had heaped on me when she saw my back. "Thanks, Fi."

"Of course, eagle."

"That's a new one," I commented as we headed up the wandering paths of Imladris to find the others. "Why?"

He hesitated, his eyes turning mischievous. "Your song. Proud as an eagle's scream. That you are."

"Hey!" I protested.

Bofur, tankard somehow in hand again, appeared at my side. "He's not wrong, lassie."

"Judas fuck," I muttered. That one would be here to stay, I supposed.

| Azaghâl Masterlist| Meg James Masterlist| lilbardrhi masterlist|

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Six: Thafan

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

She gave us new chapters, so yall get a new one from me too!

[Khuzdul: practice]

They did not suit her any better in the morning, Fíli decided. His uncle was skilled, yes, but the braids he'd put in his warrior's hair-

Fíli shook his head and tried not to scowl as he checked the kettle over the fire. He'd drawn last watch, and she had sat beside him most of it, her voice the occasional low murmur in the dark. For the most part they'd sat in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts, and Fíli didn't mind. He didn't know what she was contemplating, but the muted shing of blade over whetstone had been a soothing accompaniment to his own musings.

She'd fallen back asleep perhaps an hour ago, and somehow her head had ended up on his shoulder. He found he did not mind, not in the least. The opposite, actually, and he reminded himself sternly that he would be king and she was his friend, nothing more. She was his friend, who already sat with a hand over her eyes and a scowl on her lips, craving the hot, bitter coffee he poured into a mug now.

"I can take it," Rhi said brightly. "She's looking in a particular mood this morning."

Fíli smiled and handed over the cup reluctantly. Mood or not- and she was, indeed, in a foul one- he would have done it himself, but he found himself thinking a little too hard and a little too long about her and her braids and her song the night before. "Thank you. Did you sleep well?"

He was teasing her lightly, since he didn't even know if she knew that sometime in the early morning hours, she'd curled on her side and ended up with her face buried in the edge of his brother's blanket. Fili had pretended not to notice, either that or the way Kíli had sat up slightly, stared down at her, and lain back down again, his hand inches from hers as if he would have liked to be holding hers.

From the way she smiled, he suspected she did not know. "Yes, actually! I'm sorry you keep drawing dawn watch. We really should switch it up some more. Thorin needs to add Meg and I to the list. We can do it."

"Uncle will not, but I don't mind. I like to watch the sunrise," Fili said easily. He did, and always had. But he liked it a great deal more now. "You'd best take that over to her before she snarls at someone," he added when Azaghâl ran a hand over her hair and looked around. Her eyes narrowed on the cup in Rhi's hand and she shoved to her feet.

"Oops, yeah, she's moving. Shit," Rhi muttered and took off around the fire.

Fíli bent and began to fold his empty bedroll, keeping half an eye on his warrior's murderously blank expression as she gulped coffee and ignored Rhi's chatter. His uncle was a skilled braider, Fíli acknowledged, but what he'd done simply didn't… didn't feel right.

It was too soft. Too delicate, he realized abruptly. Strands swept back from her face in tiny braids, pulled so they looked loose instead of tightly woven. Thorin had pulled those strands around to hold most of her hair down her back in a lattice-work cage, with two twisting anchor braids starting at the crown of her head and incorporating what he'd pulled back from her face into the lacy design. It was lovely.

It was wrong. Fíli would have done better, and he was already imagining what exactly he would do instead when Thorin declared it time for them to ride.

He'd missed this, he thought as she circled slowly, weight on the balls of her feet and concentration in her eyes. The night before, while she'd been getting her hair braided, he'd fought with Dwalin. He'd been afraid he was becoming too accustomed to sparring this warrior in particular, and he'd lose some of his edge if he didn't find another partner. It was the same logic that he'd flung her way when he'd dared her to take on Dwalin herself, and it was the same logic that had him bringing in Kíli or one of the others to fight with her at random times.

But even dancing around a fire with Azaghâl wasn't the same as this, and he was trying not to let his enjoyment get in the way of giving her an actual lesson in swordplay. Well, axe play.

Not that she needed it anymore, truly. She'd been one of the fastest pupils he'd ever trained, taking to axe and blade like she'd been using them half her life, not like the complete novice she'd confessed to being before they'd begun. For Mahal's sake, she'd disarmed Dwalin, and that was over a week ago. She didn't need to learn from him anymore.

Which meant they could really enjoy themselves, he thought now.

He saw her prepare to attack, saw the tiniest shift in her shoulders that no other opponent would have seen. She didn't telegraph attacks, not like some he'd fought, but he'd been sparring her near nightly and studying her every movement. He saw it, and he rushed in before she could do so, hoping to throw her off balance.

He didn't succeed. She'd faked him, he realized with pride and delight, even as she set him on the defensive. She came in like a whirlwind, axe in one hand and one of his knives in the other, and he was hard-pressed to parry. When she kicked out, he fell right into it, and went down hard.

She followed him, wicked glint in her eyes and blade to his throat. He should have been thinking about that, but he absolutely was not.

"Pinned ya," she said cheerfully.

He swallowed hard, trying to think about anything but her position, her weight almost entirely on his lap, with one of his hands pinned at the wrist by her knee and the other twisted awkwardly under his back. She grinned down at him, his uncle's braids falling around her face and beginning, he noticed, to come loose.

No, he could not think about braiding her hair right now, or things would get very awkward between them.

He grunted in acknowledgment, knowing that was all he'd be able to manage without making a fool of himself, and began mentally cursing when Rhi's voice caused his warrior to settle herself down onto him completely.

"Ok, Nala," Rhi said.

His warrior rolled her eyes as she straddled him and flipped the blade from his throat. "We're training; I'm not fucking him."

Mahal take him now- Damnation, Fíli thought desperately. My mother, molded bread, goblins. He cast around for anything else he could think of that would keep him from thinking too hard about her on top of him and the idea of them fucking. Bombur eating eggs-

"You sure about that?" Rhi sounded entirely too damn amused, and Fili scowled.

Azaghâl rolled her eyes and sprang to her feet, extending a hand down to him with a smile. "Whatever. Come on; again."

He wasn't certain he'd survive doing that again, and he didn't just mean because she'd gotten a kill point on him.

"You said I couldn't be Nala. Why does she get to be?" His brother sounded downright offended.

"Who is Nala?" he wondered as Meg pulled him to his feet. He'd heard the name before, he thought, but he could not place it.

"Simba's girlfriend," Rhi declared.

Fíli coughed to cover the way he'd just tried to choke on absolutely nothing, covering his dismay- and his very physical reaction to the comparison- by turning away from his warrior. Simba was the lion prince, which they had teasingly compared him too. Azaghâl's cheeks had burned red when she explained the reference to him after their game of truth or dare, and he'd been delighted to find she thought of him as a lion. Now he tried to clear his airway and managed to respond. "We need to hear this tale, I think."

Meg laughed. "Yeah, you do. She should do that one tonight. Come on, Fí, again! I'm still restless."

"I believe that is enough for today." He thought of her weight on him, tossing braids over her shoulder, and- Mahal. He was right. He wouldn't survive that again. Not without throwing her down and having his way with her in front of the entire Company.

She pouted, the same one she'd used to deadly effect on his uncle, and he hated that he felt his resolve weaken immediately. "Fiiiiineeee," she said with a sigh. Then she flashed those sea-witch eyes his way, gleaming and calculating. "Just don't want to lose again, do you?"

"Damn you," he snarled. She'd challenged him on purpose. She knew he couldn't resist that, or those dancing eyes, or the lip she poked out and he had a sudden, violent urge to bite-

Mahal take her, and him.

"Fine! Again!" he snapped, and flung himself at her in a whirlwind attack with no warning.

She shifted like lightening, slipping by him like smoke from a fire. How the hell-? He spun, going low and flashing in with the knife he pulled from his vambrace as he turned, but she hooked her axe- his axe- around his wrist and sent the knife flying.

Then she was the one who lashed out, and once again he was flat on his back, her knees on either side of him and her hands pinning his arms above his head.

He absolutely was not thinking about sweeping her knee and rolling them, or getting his hand around her throat and his mouth on hers. He wasn't. He was thinking about the fight and trying to figure out where he went wrong.

He was reasonably certain it was in noticing those damn sea-witch eyes when Bilbo Baggins opened his front door.

"Pinned ya again," she declared, winking at him.

"You can't kill me from here," he objected, the only thought that wasn't inappropriate for him to be having, much less vocalizing.

She let go of his wrists as she straightened, and Fíli thanked every Valar he could name- which unfortunately wasn't many- that she hadn't sat back onto his lap again. "Maybe not, but I still have the upper hand," she said with a shrug. She pushed loosening strands of hair from her eyes and flashed him another wicked grin. "My point."

"I'm beginning to believe you always have the upper hand," he muttered as she rose.

"What?" she asked, looking down and extending her hand again as he began to force himself to his feet.

He took it, just to feel her slim fingers in his, and shook his head. "Nothing. Again!"

Rhi jumped to her feet, eyes suspiciously bright. "Nope! Story time!"

"But-" he and Meg protested at the same moment, and laughter broke out among the Company.

By the time they stopped the next evening, his warrior looked about a thousand times more frustrated over her hair than she had before his uncle had braided it. He didn't blame her, since it was slipping from the latticework braids and falling into her face, just as she'd said her hair was apt to do.

Uncle Thorin should have known better, Fíli thought in vague disgust. If he hadn't been willing to braid her hair right, he shouldn't have volunteered to do it at all. He should have just let Fili do it, like he'd been working up the courage to offer.

"We'll camp here for the night," his uncle called. "Fíli, Kíli, look after the ponies."

Fíli listened with half an ear as Gandalf muttered and argued with his uncle, distracted by the way Meg sighed and shoved hair behind her ear as she rubbed Shadowmere's nose and whispered to her. He missed Rhi's comment, but his warrior's laugh made him smile.

Then he watched one of her braids slip free and he'd had enough. "I'm fixing your braids," he told her abruptly. It wasn't an offer or a question. He was doing it, damn it. She deserved better. "Just let us take care of the ponies first."

She blinked, and he could have sworn he saw a blush on her cheeks. "Oh- ok. I'll help."

"I'm coming too," Rhi said brightly.

Fíli grunted and grabbed Minty and Myrtle. Kíli shot him a questioning look, but he ignored his brother, Rhi, even his warrior and focused on the horses.

This was a terrible idea, and he damn well knew it.

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Surprise! Meg James' third poetry collection, poets, lovers, & lunatics, is available now. The perfect gift for the poet in your life this holiday season.

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the Shadow lingers.... October 1st, 2025