You're a messenger for the human kingdom. Many would hate to be in your shoes.. traveling under the cruel sun and having to adventure out to the kingdoms that the common folk tremble under..
Yet all you see is entirely different worlds.
The Elf Kingdom.. is one of the oldest civilizations. With their long lifespan and sharpened minds, they have seen through wars and disasters. When you arrive through the gates, they already have everything prepared. The best stablehands for your horse. The best room and refreshments for your stay in the kingdom. The Elf King and his advisors value your words and input. Which is a very hard thing to accomplish for an admittedly ignorant group.
The Orc Tribes.. may seem like a gruff group of barbarians, but they value strength in all forms. When they hear you riding in, they know you've survived another grueling testament of patience and endurance. A private tent is set up for you, and your horse is taken well cared of. They take your stay quite seriously. The best of their warriors guarding your tent. The Orc Tribes know all too well of enemies trying to trail behind you for a moment to strike.
The Dwarf Camps.. is another one of the oldest civilizations. Many kingdoms do not interact with them due to their isolated lives in the quarries and mountains. But they appreciate the struggle you go through to make it up the rocky cliffs. Your horse gets the best horse shoes ever possibly made. Dwarven steel. Your gear gets fixed up as you discuss trade with the council of members. The Dwarfs do not let you leave until they know you and your horse are in the best possible shape.
When representatives of each land come visit your kingdom? They always pay you the greater respect than your ruling monarch. It's you who's traveled across blazing suns and chilling storms to keep them informed.
So it will be you each land fights for a chance to marry one day.
Your short dwarf bf isn’t just thick with muscle and mean swagger, fuck no.. because, gods, he’s packing down there. Not one but two heavy, swinging cocks that drag between his legs, so damn big they change the way he walks just barely contained in his pants that are altered to fit the dragging weapons of flesh he was born with.
He teases you about it, a cocky grin under his beard, leaning close and growling, “Hard to walk with all this cock, lass… but you’ll thank me when they’re splitting you open.”
And damn, he’s right. When you finally see them… Veins thick, heads flushed, both cocks drooling precum before he even touches you.
He drags those double shafts against your dripping slit, teasing you, making you whimper over which one you’ll take first or if you’re a greedy little whore for both.
He doesn’t rush. He makes you cry on the slow stretch, your body twitching and shaking as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you. Then, when you’re gone and wrecked, he slams into you fast, brutal, rutting till you’re screaming.
Short? Doesn’t fucking matter. He opens you up like no man ever could, no man ever will.
And gods, he loves it. Loves watching you stretch, watching your belly bulge from the sheer size of him, loves hearing you choke on moans because you can’t keep up with how much he’s giving you. He watches you stretch, your belly bulge with his size, listens to your sobbing moans, the wet slap of his cocks against you, the obscene squelch of your body trying to keep up.
He grips your hips, beard scratching your skin as he kisses down your chest and snarls, “You’re mine. No one else’ll fit you. No one else can. Not after this. Not after me.”
You learn too late that dwarves don't have a refractory period. It would have been better, you think, to learn it a little bit before your lover positioned himself, poised over you, starting over again after his third orgasm.
"Dwarven stamina," he grunts into your shoulder, wide hands gripping your hip to hold you still.
It doesn't feel like stamina to you. It feels deeper. Cut from his being. They say dwarves are blessed with the gift of stone; surely this isn't what they mean, but it's true, you think, as he bottoms out once again. Like a rock.
He's steady, his rhythm never faltering. His thumbs dig into your flesh as he holds you totally still, sweat dripping off of his brow and chest, hot on your skin. You wonder, briefly, if this is how he mines: even and constant, a ceaseless drumbeat. You ache at the thought of him down there, hot and hairy and working.
Your release begins to wash over you, approaching and retreating like waves, a stark contrast to your lover's stony immutability. Finally, it crashes, apex and pleasure and gasping, and it tugs him with you, pulling like an undertow. You can feel him give in, filling you for the fourth time.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, brushing a sweaty strand of hair back away from your face.
But his hips are still moving. Still setting that unrelenting, endless pace.
Summary: You've always heard from others that love is blind or in the eye of the beholder... But little did you know that in your case, it was just oblivious.
Word count: 2061
A/N: I wrote reader as female because it was easier for me, but it's not strictly for female readers. This was originally part of a huge fanfiction that I'm working on with an OC and Bofur (hoping to publish soon), but as I was scrapping this small idea I decided to put it to use and add a Bofur one-shot to the small amount that's here on Ao3. My favourite dwarf deserves more love!
You walked down the stairs leading to the main hall of Erebor, where a grand ball now took place for the evening, the chandeliers casting gold light down on the people gathered below.
A lot of folk had arrived from across Middle Earth for the celebration, from Bree, a handful of curious Hobbits from the Shire, Men of Dale, and even the Elves attended, much to the surprise of everyone.
Tonight you wore a formal dress, which was unusual for you as you preferred the comforts of a tunic and tights to the dismay of your mother, it wasn’t particularly comfortable but you hoped it would draw the attention of a certain dwarf.
It had been a long year and a half since the Battle of the Five Armies, as it was now known in the history books; and Thorin had spent a great deal of that time in healing, his defeat of Azog came with great risk and he had nearly died in the process. In the meanwhile the rest of the company with the assistance of others set about repairing the newly reclaimed Erebor.
You had fought in the battle yourself, having followed your best friend Bofur at the time when he had left to join the company, but surprisingly came out relatively unscathed as you were inexperienced in fighting. In the little time you had spent with them, you had taken a liking to King Thorin’s nephew, Kili; and in the few weeks he had spent healing you had kept to his side, holding long conversations into the night and bringing him his meals.
After debating to yourself for some time you had decided to confess to him your newfound feelings, unfortunately for you he had not felt the same, as he loved Tauriel and planned to court her. Naturally you had been hurt, heartbroken even, so as a precaution you maintained your distance from the prince to avoid any unwanted emotions that bubbled out, in case your temper or sadness would dare overcome you in his presence.
You spent the time either alone, doing activities to keep you busy or reading books from the dusty library, or in the company of Bofur, who always made sure you left with a smile on your face. And after several weeks you came to realise that you had developed strong feelings for Bofur, and felt the days without him to be especially empty and cold.
You set foot on the floor, gazing over the crowds to see if you could locate him, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.
Is he even wearing his hat tonight? You wondered to yourself, a frown falling on your face. You’d never seen him without the poor worn out thing, except the time he and the others raided the fountain in Rivendell in the nude, you smiled and shook your head at the thought.
Focus.
You walked through the crowds, almost being stood on several times by men or elves as they did not notice you, you muttered and cursed about being a dwarrow before moving on. Time felt like it was pressing down on you for some reason, as if any moment could be the moment that someone else would draw his attention and steal him away from you.
You stood on your toes and looked around the room once more, breathing a sigh of relief when you found him, you pushed through a little impatiently this time around, partially to get your own back for the rudeness of the others before, but mostly to get closer to him quicker.
You were about to greet him but froze on the spot, he was surrounded by three elf maids, all laughing at something he said. You looked down at yourself in doubt and back at the elf maids, and frowned, they were tall, ridiculously beautiful, and slender in their colourful dresses, with long neat hair; by comparison you felt as if you were but a troll forced into a curtain your mother had crafted in the dark.
You shook your head, swallowing hard and took the long route around the crowds to avoid attracting attention to yourself, feeling tears begin to well up in your eyes as you headed out of the main entrance.
You shivered as the cold air hit your skin, you hugged yourself and brushed your hands to warm up as best as you could, and you walked on, staring at the moon and stars. A few stray tears rolled down your burning cheeks, and you shook slightly.
Star-crossed lovers... You questioned whether you could even begin to consider your relationship with Bofur to be that way; you grew up together in the Blue Mountains, always managing to find your way to each other after many months apart at a time as you became older.
The idea seemed silly to you now, Bofur was kind to everyone it was who he was, you were nothing more than another friend to him and you assured yourself that time would heal you again.
You stopped walking as something had snagged the bottom of your dress; you grumbled and tugged at the material that clung to the thorn bush, regretting not paying attention to wear you were going. With a final pull the dress tore, almost up to your knee and you huffed, throwing your hands down.
Could tonight be any worse? You sat down on a large boulder, haphazardly undoing the braiding you had done in your hair, letting the messy locks rest on your shoulders; and rested your elbows on your knees with a sigh, staring in at the dark fields ahead.
You stirred from your thoughts when a deep voice spoke your name just behind you, and you acknowledged him as he took a seat next to you.
“Did you not expect someone to see you leaving?” Thorin asked, tilting his head to look at you, his eyes were soft with concern.
“Not really, no,” you admitted, fidgeting slightly, “I suppose you’d want to know why I’m here?”
“For a start, yes,” he glanced down, noticing your exposed leg where the dress had torn.
“Well, I clearly don’t belong in there, not like this anyway,” you gestured to your messy state.
“Perhaps, if you were to wear what you find comforting?” Thorin chuckled lightly as he plucked at the ruined seems of the dress. “Or were you going out of your way to catch the eye of someone else?”
“For someone else,” you muttered, playing with your fingers nervously.
“Not Kili though, I suspect as much from what happened the last time,”
“So he told you then,” you closed your eyes for a moment and tilted your head to the sky, lips tightening.
“Of course, I’m like their second father.” He gave a small smile, “It takes courage to confront your feelings for someone, especially if you’re not certain of them being returned,” he placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.
“Yes,” you shuffled uncomfortably and staring into the fields again, uncertain where Thorin was taking the conversation, and not noticing him turn his head as someone else approached in the distance.
“You should not give up so easily, Bofur is a very patient dwarf,” you looked up at him in surprise and he smirked, “You should know the pair of you have a lot in common, aside from being oblivious of each other’s feelings, and the company has been waiting to cash in their bets any day now,” he stood up with a big grin on his face.
“Am I interrupting something?” Bofur asked, your eyes widened and your tongue caught in your mouth.
“Not at all Bofur, I was just leaving,” Thorin walked passed him and gave him a pat on the shoulder, making Bofur frown in confusion, you caught him muttering under his breath, “Young love,” he shook his head.
“Did ye catch that?” Bofur asked, taking Thorin’s place next to you, you shook your head. “Where’ve ye been lass?”
“Well, I was inside, and then I decided I needed fresh air,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze.
“Are ye sure ye’re alright?” he asked, “Ye seem a bit… off,”
“I’m fine,” you suddenly felt your throat go thick, “You should be worried about your friends inside,”
“And who would that be?” he frowned.
“The other-worldly elf maidens that you were giving a good laugh to,”
“They were only laughing because I was trying to say a joke I learned to say in Sindarin, which was quite mean to be honest, it’s not as if I learned it from birth,”
“You mean to say that they were laughing at you, not because of you?”
“Technically it was because I had made them laugh, but it still hurt nonetheless, and then I caught sight of my best friend wondering towards the exit in a hurry, and that hurt me even more,”
You swallowed hard, before looking Bofur in the eyes, “And that’s all I’ll ever be to you isn’t it, a friend?”
“Firstly, I’d like to address that I said ye are my best friend,” he corrected, “Secondly, no,” he took your hand carefully in his, “It took me a long time to realise that ye were always meant to be more than a friend to me,”
“What?” you whispered.
“When we were young and unknowing, being told tales about having a One someday, I always thought that that feeling would be entirely overwhelming…” he paused, searching your eyes and you nodded for him to continue, “What I didn’t know is that, my best friend, who carried me when I’d fallen both metaphorically, and literally,” he chuckled a bit, “Through all my hardships in life so far, had been my One all this time.”
“I, I don’t understand…”
“Lass, ye were the constant light in my life through everything, and I feel daft for not knowing in all this time we’ve been around each other,” he took your other hand and squeezed gently. “I wish to court ye, if ye’ll have me that is, and I know ye probably want someone like Kili who can provide for ye though, so I understand if-”
You wrapped your arms around his neck giving him a tight hug, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, holding his face gently in your hands as you parted. Bofur’s eyes fluttered open slowly in a daze; he stared at you for a moment in shock and then gave you a mischievous grin.
“I take that as a yes?” he asked and you smiled, pulling his hat over his eyes playfully.
“Of course, my One,” you beamed at him as he peaked from underneath his hat, you took his hands in yours and rubbed your thumbs on the backs of them, “And I want to assure you that whatever feelings I thought I had for Kili, they are long forgotten,”
“Well I’m glad to hear that,” he squeezed your hands gently and you returned the gesture, before moving one hand to caress his cheek carefully.
“And I’m sorry for any heartache I might’ve caused you,” you whispered, examining the crinkles that cornered his eyes, “You were the reason I could keep a smile on my face when it felt like nothing could Bofur, and made me laugh my tears away,”
“Of course, I’d do anything to see that smile of yers, amrâlimê,”
“Menu tessu,”
He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back, “Yer freezing love, let’s get ye inside,” he made to let go of you but you held onto him, he chuckled. “Ye can’t get enough of me can ye?”
“I’m making up for lost time,” you mumbled into his neck, squeezing him tighter, he pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
“That I don’t mind,” he sighed in content, before frowning when he caught sight of your bare leg just below. “Lass, what’s happened to yer dress?” you laughed for a moment.
“I’ll explain later,” you nuzzled into his neck, “Let’s just enjoy this moment,” you hummed; his warmth was radiating from his fur coat and body spreading to you, comforting you greatly against the chills of the night breeze.
“Tis my duty to make my lady happy,”
You smiled, knowing in your heart that Bofur was yours, and only yours for the rest of your lives.
can i please ask for more human messenger for the monsters ? im gnawing at my enclosure 😩
Imagine this..
Winter is approaching all the kingdoms. It makes your delivery of messages even more dangerous and time-consuming.. Thankfully, the kingdoms are awaiting your arrival the moment your horse leaves your kingdom gates..
The Elf Kingdom.. doesn't even wait for you to announce your arrival. The gates are already opening as the harsh wind practically blows you inside. Your horse is taken to rest with the high deer while you are taken to a personal tower. Already food and dry clothes are provided. The meeting can wait until you are ready. The Elven King himself comes by to make sure you're settled in alright. He's clearly reluctant to let you leave during the height of the storm.
The Orc Tribes.. left clear markings for you to follow so you find your way to their winter sanctuary. Your horse gladly rests with the giant wild boar. You're allowed immediate access to the large tent the tribe uses for gatherings and large meals together. Hot stew and meed (though understood if you do not drink it) is provided as the elders of the tribe talk with you about the message. As you get ready to leave, they insist you take spare cloaks of fur they have with you.
The Dwarf Camps.. were surprised you risked the trip at all! The storm is the worst at the peaks they reside in. They are practically scolding you for even attempting the journey while getting your horse to a stable and you somewhere warm. Any ruined or less than perfect gear is getting replaced or fixed as you talk with the council about the message. Though their attitude is infected by the dangerous trip you made.. They actually refuse to let you leave until the storm dies down enough for safe passage.
If it's okay to ask, I'd to see how the tribes convince the messenger to stay the night. It's so late, the roads are too dangerous to go out at night
Elf Kingdom:
Oh. You're not allowed to leave. Absolutely not. The Elf King can't risk it.
Of course, he is very gentle with his ruling. Gently taking your hands in his. Resting your favored hand over his heart as he tells you that he simply can not allow you to ride off to the night. The message is important, yes. But not more important than you.
Your usual prepared room has more than enough to ensure your comfort for the night. Surely the rest of the kingdoms would understand if the Elf King held onto your presence for just a little longer..
Orc Tribe:
..no.
You're not leaving.
Simple as that.
You can try pleading your case to the chief, but they aren't changing their mind. They acknowledge that you're stronger than any warrior, but strength can do so much when faced with overwhelming numbers.
Before you go to rest in the usual tent they have set up for you, the chief presses their forehead to yours. A sign of deep respect and affection among orcs. You make sure to lean into the gesture. 'Good night' without words..
Surely, the other kingdoms will understand the orcs' desire to protect you.
Dwarf Camps:
The council absolutely refuses to allow you to leave. The high smith didn't even need to hold a proper vote. All hands shot up when the option of having you stay the night came.
They just couldn't take the risk.. scaling the mountain is dangerous enough. Going back down? At night? Not happening.
The high smith let's you use his home as a place to stay. He's not in there enough, anyway.. always experimenting with dragon flamed steel and dwarven gems. His home is practically yours.
Though he makes sure to leave polished gear for you in the morning. Can't have you rushing off to the other kingdoms with less than perfect gear.
