#durinsfire

[sheisthesxnlight-archived]

+ 1 has entered Lothlorien

Aureriel peeked out from behind from behind her curtain at the small party of Dwarves that had entered her home of Lothlorien. She smiled one she noticed Gandalf with them as she watch them from her window curiously. As she watched she soon met the dark gaze of a one, Thorin Oakenshield.

[xcrownless]

durinsfire replied to your post:follow any TES blogs?

( can someone make a brynjolf blog and have him and aragorn meet pls kthnx );

[ that's an incredible idea, actually.  i'm 38923% down for this. ]

[xcrownless]

durinsfire replied to your post:bilbo baggins, legolas, & thorin oakenshield! (for the fav blogs)

( loudly eyezooms at );

[ quietly offers f lowers. ]

[dogisms]

durinsfire replied to your post:[ okay i just looked at release dates and       ...

( movies should be released on the same day for the entire world );

[ this ! ]

[abirxto-blog]

durinsfire

                                                    { C O L D. }

                       The  last  memory  that   came   to   focus  moments   earlier  was                        of  several  cold, sharp  stabs  penetrating  his  right  leg with  the                        intention  of  harming  him. He was  certain  that  spells  were not                        sentient  and  HAD  to  be controlled  by  a  mage — ( the  dwarf                        was starting  to  believe his superstition was  to be a reality ).  A                        sharp grunt of disapproval  as  he  felt  one ice  shard  pulled out                        his leg ; he knew that he just had to  look  at the gruesome injury                        that  would  have  given  him a l i m p if not  for  healing magics.

                                                                              ❝— Keep shaking your head                                                                  like that and the world’s collapse will                                                     rain upon you like a group of O r l e s i a n s                                               crying over a broken mask that fell on the road.❞

                           ❝ now is really not the time, thorin. ❞

            he's snappier than he means to be, frigid             air leeching at what little warmth he has left.             maker knows why the inquisitor insisted on             dragging him out--- just an adviser, just a             lowly wretch in the system. it feels a heavy             betrayal, to face his old brothers and sisters.             but, then, that was the worth of their friendship.             he was willing to go the extra mile, for such a                            bastard as this dwarf.

            he dislikes the taste of magic, even after all this             time. not the taste of mages, (though maker knew             he had little to say on that) but more of the after             math of their work. the ozone pressed in taut              between man's two hands left a bitter tang to the             tongue, and he is not overmuch eager to have to                 deal with the dwarf's insults on top of it all.

                           ❝ there. only two ice shards--- and aren't you lucky.                                 last time we went up against an ice mage, i got                                             stuck in the arse with four.  ❞

[frerin-son-of-thrain]

Horseshoe - [closed rp - durinsfire ]

Frerin had been in dale for the past couple of hours with his friends. Rising early before the sun as always, they had decided to head over to dale and invest in some horseshoes. Once they had bought those, they had found an open space in the market and a stick to play the game with. They knew they were able to have horseshoes for ponies, finding them rather quickly in Erebor, but that made the game so much harder. So they had to invest in other departments. And once the sun was up, they started playing the game.

He didn’t quite know for how long they had been playing, and their ponies weren’t begging for attention either and just remained standing lazily where they were left, if they even were aware of what was happening so to speak. But at one rather sudden point, when Frerin didn’t have to throw the horseshoe, he saw his brother walk by the street ahead of them. So quickly making his excuse by his friends, Frerin dashed for his pony and grabbed the reigns, taking Bert along with him. He didn’t know how long he would be gone after all, so with that it would have been handy to have Bert along with him. “Hey!”  He caught up with his brother and made Bert slow down. “What are you doing here?

[unseenmockingjay]

◤ forsakenvows ◢

NO DON’T GIVE IN WE MUST STICK TOGETHER

       but beautiful icons

◤ durinsfire ◢

( don’t give in because if you give in it means you are giving in to the Capitol and you dont want that )

       your right,

[rivainiscoundrel]

durinsfire

█ ━ ;☾⋮    Taverns are all relatively similar in their bare-bones nature. Creaky ceilings, rickety chairs, lopsided tables, and less than savory patrons suited the scantily clad woman just fine for she too, is armed to the teeth beneath sparse clothing and a bright grin to slither along a sunkissed visage. Yet between the slurps of grog and slaps of idle hands, the pirate finds herself bored per the usual with the typical slurring suitor, only to lay amber glinting irises upon one so stout. A dwarf? A surfacer by the looks of him but hardly a lacking dirt rat mingling about humans.

     Beneath the grimace, that she can only imagine he carries constantly, must lay an experience of a thousand ages all muddled through traumatic experience. And Isabela holds no quarrel flouncing her curiosity at the only person in the establishment that has yet to lay his eyes upon her. Perhaps a challenge, certainly so but the pirate queen needs a touch of entertainment lest her night be dull and without bite just like her beverage.  

     The slow sway of hips give a wide berth to push through crowds, making an obvious presence known in a slightly less than bold approach. Locked on a prize, she is, whether it turns to be her folly later in the night makes no matter now between the humming noise purring the back of her hoarse vocal chords or the sneer she just knows is coming. They all play hard to get but that's half the fun -- right?  

     He painted lips purse when she rounds at his table, head quirking to the side to spill raven tresses about a tanned shoulder, catching small strands in the strands of medallion gold pooled at bust and collarbone. To tread somewhat carefully would be a shame... Only fools rush in, after all and she proudly plays the part. 

     "My, my... Now, who are you? Never seen you before and I know I'd remember someone so handsome. I'm Isabela, Captain Isabela."  She waits for no permission to sit at his table, slipping against a stool with liquid grace befitting a sailor, an easy motion for a girl so used to skirting about horrors. The callused paw of her palm moves to rest against her own sturdy chin and teeth bare wide in a smile and lithe digits attached to a free hand point lazily from the table, "-- And is that beard of yours real?