#dwarrowtober 2022

[mrkida-art]

By popular demand, #Dwarrowtober is back from the dead! Third time is the charm I guess.

- This is a Tolkien centric event but dwarves of any fandom/IP/mythology is very much welcome here!

- This is also a (very) informal event which is generally open to anyone/any creative discipline, but please, no gen Al.

If you do join, please tag your work with #dwarrowtober or #dwarrowtober 2024 (check the tags #dwarrowtober 2021 and #dwarrowtober 2022 if you want some inspiration from the previous two dwarrowtobers).

And here is the header in case someone would like to use it for their own posts:

[dwarvishgeorge]

My dwarrowtober piece for this year!!! Did #15, Sword!

I imaged this not long after Smaug where any damaged equipment was a huge loss- just another frustration for Prince Thorin!

Make sure to check out @mrkida-art 's art and prompt list!!

[ironfoot-mothafocka]

Dwarrowtober: Mithril

The mood was set: the candles were burning soft and low, the bed freshly made with plush sheets, and Hafar’s housekeeper had sprayed the room with a critus-sweet perfume. It wasn’t overpowering, but it added a fresh vigour to the air.

And still, the merchant trader felt like a young dwarf waiting on the brink of his first time in bed with another.

Sher lay in his arms, head resting gently on his chest. Hafar’s fingers tangled in his long hair, carding them through their black tresses and massaging their scalp. The Stonefoot let out a contented sigh and raised their chin, looking up expectantly. Hafar swallowed thickly and glanced down, forcing himself to smile to keep himself from frowning. It had been a while since he was in this situation, and the last time…

The other dwarf reached up and placed a slender hand in the middle of the Ironfoot’s chest, stroking bare skin and carefully avoiding his pierced nipples. “So, Hafar… shall we go to bed?” they purred, rising up on an elbow to press a kiss to Hafar’s lips. Hafar met the kiss passionately and sighed through his nose, relishing the tender moment. “Of course,” he replied, pushing Sher off of him slightly and swinging his legs from the divan on which they lay. The bed was only a few steps away, but as Hafar watched Sher glance seductively over his shoulder and fold himself down on top of it, it looked more like an insurmountable mountain. He sat down on the edge and paused for a moment, looking anywhere else but at Sher. The uncomfortable silence stretched on. “Is everything alright?” Hafar knew that it was time for the talk. He had prepared what he was going to say beforehand, running it over in his head all day, but the right words had seeped out of his ears over the course of their dinner and dessert, and the hour they had spent in easy conversation and kissing on the couch. “Yes,” he replied fervently, kicking his flesh leg up onto the coverlet. Sher plucked nervously at the topsheet, black eyebrows lowered and his face suddenly a mask of seriousness. “What are you thinking about? You… you still want to do this, right?” “I do,” said Hafar plaintively, lying back with a soft whump against the pillows. He turned towards Sher and brought their faces close together, cupping the underside of the other dwarf’s chin. He kissed them again, and then drew back. “It’s just… well, we will need to get naked.” Sher waited for an answer. “Yes, I do hope so,” they laughed eventually, when it was clear that Hafar was stalling for time. “When you suggested we head to your quarters for some fun, I wasn’t expecting a game of takrak.” The trader hummed and placed a kiss to the corner of Sher’s lips. “No, no I didn’t expect you did. But, you should know… I will need to take my leg off. I mean, for us to do this comfortably.” He ground the rest out through clenched teeth, feeling his face burn as he spoke. It was clumsier than he had planned, and every muscle in his body was trying to avoid the subject, but it couldn’t be helped.

Sher looked down at the mithril prosthetic and then back up at Hafar. It was an exquisitely made replica of a limb, the flowing line of a calf muscle cast and sculpted to mirror the one on Hafar’s remaining leg, with a flexible, hinged ankle and springs in the toes for balance and movement. Delicate runes interlaced with dwarven knotwork were carved into the curves of it, forming a decorative border on the underside of the knee and down each side of the shin. Hafar had gaudier models for parties, even one made out of gold, rubies and pink diamonds, but his mithril piece was his most prized and his most expensive. For him, it was also the most beautiful, with a simple, elegant flair, and it was as light as it was durable. “Take it off…” Sher said slowly. Hafar closed his eyes briefly, afraid to hear what would come next. Now came the stuttering and excuses, the discomfort or revulsion. He had been fully unclothed with another dwarf only a couple of times before. Once, when he had studiously avoided even seeing himself nude in the mirror after bathing, and the other when he had grown a little more comfortable with his own appearance. On both of these times, the dwarves in question hadn’t understood that Hafar had needed to remove his limb to be fully comfortable on the bed, and lovemaking was a difficult affair for both of them once their distaste for the ‘unnaturalness’ of the bare, scarred stump was revealed. He had resorted in the end to quick, nameless hookups in tavern rooms, where he only had to undo his trousers at the belt and buttons to get what he wanted. Now he had found a dwarf whom he actually wanted to spend time with, Hafar vowed he would never go through the same experience: it was better to get it over with. “Well, evidently you need to take it off. I would be… ah… a little unhappy if you did not!” Hafar opened his eyes again to see Sher wiggling his bare toes. “I don’t wear shoes in bed, now, do I? We should both be as natural as possible, skin to skin.” Sher leaned over and Hafar found himself pinned back to the bed, with the dwarf on top of him, pulling at his underwear and belt buckle. He laughed into the kiss and guided Sher away. “You are sure of this?” he asked. Sher’s eyes narrowed again and Hafar was reminded of his sister when she was about to snap. “I must say, never in my life has a dwarf about to bed me hesitated this much,” Sher quipped with a grin. Hafar chuckled and bent down, undoing the suction clips that kept the stump secure to the prosthetic. He slid off the device with a sigh of contentment and placed it on the floor, unwrapping the padding from the end of the flesh and muscle. He sat back on the bed, trouser leg hitched up above the knee. Sher studied the stump with the same look that he’d seen them give a particularly interesting painting. “Hafar,” they said slowly, a smile spreading across their face as their fingers once again quested for the top of Hafar’s britches, “even if you had no legs to speak of, I would still remain proudly by your side.”

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Dwarrowtober 2022 Day 1: Kingdom- Thorin Oakenshield x OC

Thorin Oakenshield x Sienna Hollyfoot

Description: Learning how to run a kingdom is a difficult task. When Sienna becomes overwhelmed with her lessons she finds comfort in her fiance.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: So... I decided ten days into October that I wanted to participate in the Dwarrowtober 2022 Prompt Fic thing so I have spent the last nine days writing nineteen blurbs/fics (I still don’t understand the difference) in order to catch up. Some of them are better than others, but I hope you enjoy them nonetheless!

It had been almost five months since the Company of Thorin Oakenshield retook the Lonely Mountains. By now the rebuilding of Erebor was coming along beautifully. A once awe inspiring kingdom was finally being restored to its former glory by new and old generations alike. They were even ahead of schedule; if this was anything to go on then they’d be done ahead of schedule.

While the reconstruction commenced Sienna continued to stay in the royal halls of Erebor. As the future Queen of Erebor she had to learn many things about how to run a kingdom. Balin was kind enough to offer to teach her the ways of royalty as her fiancé was rather busy with his own duties. Her lessons lasted most of the day and admittedly took quite a bit out of her. Everyday she would just barely make it through dinner after her lessons then immediately go to bed only to restart the cycle the next day. It was beginning to get overwhelming for her, having to learn so much information all at once then internalize and remember everything.

She attempted to defend the rather exhausting routine by saying that that’s just how a Queen’s job was. She would have to make sacrifices for her kingdom, and this would be one of the many. Surprisingly, that didn’t help her feel better at all. Quite the opposite actually. Now she felt bad because if this first assignment was exhausting her so quickly, how could she expect herself to potentially go through more difficult tasks and make important decisions? Was she even fit to run a kingdom? What if she was in over head and everyone had made a mistake about her being Queen?

Those questions mixed with her general fatigue began to heavily weigh on her in every way it could. Everyone could tell, too. If not for the bags under her eyes and slow movements, it was her lack of conversation as of late. Usually when she was around her loved ones it was almost impossible for her not to start and/or join in a conversation about whatever came to mind. Nowadays even Balin was lucky to get a full sentence out of her during lessons. She didn’t even have the strength to smile anymore. For the first time since Thorin woke up, she was no longer happy. She knew that things couldn’t keep going on like this. At this point she was a ticking time bomb, and she didn’t know how to help it.

Today was yet another day of lessons with Balin. As usual, Sienna sat at the desk taking notes fervorously. Balin leisurely paced in front of her with his hands behind his back, reciting his lecture. Today they were discussing how a Queen was supposed to act in any possible situation.

“A Queen embodies truth, justice, mercy, empathy, and fairness all in one. She is not petty, manipulative or selfish.” And that was when something snapped in her. Selfish. She was being selfish. The very thought made her freeze as tears welled up in her eyes and she felt her throat close up.

“Sienna?” She faintly heard Balin say, worry laced in his tone. “Are you okay?” No, she wasn’t. She was not okay. She had to get out of there. Without warning her quill fell onto the floor as she abruptly stood up. For a moment she felt bad for startling her tutor with her sudden movements, but her emotions got the best of her so she couldn’t think about it.

“Excuse me,” was all she managed to get out before she was out of the room and running through the many halls of the kingdom. She ran until her legs grew tired, ending up outside of Erebor where the Company had watched Smaug destroy Laketown. It was the best place she could think of as it was the most familiar to her. Once she reached some rocks that would successfully hide her from prying eyes she collapsed onto the ground in tears. All the emotions she’d held in for the past four months were finally being let out.

She had no idea how long she just sat there and cried. If the now colorful sky was any indication, she’d been out here longer than expected. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to move. The thought of having to face anyone who witnessed her finally break brought her dread. Not to mention the fact that she would immediately have to go back to her lessons as they were now technically behind schedule. So, she instead decided to just stay there a little longer.

And that was precisely where Thorin ended up finding her. Sienna heard him approaching, but she couldn’t bring herself to face him. It wasn’t until after he sat beside her that she managed to spare him a glance. He wasn’t looking at her, but at Dale, which was being steadily rebuilt by the people of Laketown.

“I wish you would have told me that you were inundated with your lessons,” he spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Because a Queen shouldn’t be overwhelmed by something like this,” she retorted. If she looked at him after saying that she would have seen the corner of her fiance’s lips quirk up, almost as if in amusement.

“You know, being a Queen doesn’t mean that you just immediately have to forget about your health. It’s not gonna hurt anyone if you have to take a break.”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” she pointed out quietly. “And you’ve never had to take a break.”

“Because I’ve been training since I was a child,” Thorin shot back. “I already know all of this because I grew up learning it as if it were schoolwork. You’re the one having to learn all of this almost a hundred and eighty years into your life, and it isn’t anything easy. But you’re doing amazing thus far.” At that Sienna scoffed.

“Is that why I ran away?” She asked sarcastically.

“No, but it is why Balin has been singing nothing but praises of your progress,” he corrected her in one of the most gentle tones she’d ever heard. “What you’re doing is learning how to run an entire kingdom and you are excelling at it. Not to mention how you dealt with Mirkwood and Laketown when I was out of commission after the Battle of the Five Armies. You did that by yourself with very little help from Balin. Sienna, you are doing wonderfully, but you must allow yourself a break sometimes. You will be a Queen, but that doesn’t mean you are not still a person. You will still get tired and that is okay because I will still be helping you no matter what. Being kind to yourself is what will make you a great Queen.”

Sienna, admittedly, was extremely comforted by his words. There was just something about him that calmed her down and made her feel better. He’d always had that sort of affect on her, though, so it shouldn’t have been verys surprising. Thorin’s arm wrapped around her and he allowed her to lay her head on his shoulder.

“Can we stay here just a little longer?” She asked quietly. Her fiance’s chest rumbled when he chuckled and she didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling.

“I don’t think they’ll mind us being gone for just a few more minutes.” His answer visibly made the girl happy and she found herself cuddling further into her love’s side. There they sat for a little while longer, enjoying the peace that surrounded them. Running a kingdom was a difficult task. Sienna knew that going into this. But she was happy that she had Thorin by her side to help her.

[mrkida-art]

Grór, hunter of cold-drakes and lord of the iron hills ( in their late 70s and then at 150+ years old). Here's a very late Dwarrowtober piece for Day 12: Hunting, since I caught the virus after a busy week : ' D (Still feeling it but I feel better now). I was feeling too ill for drawing or social media so that is why I randomly disappeared.

[mrkida-art]

Dwarrowtober Day 8: Wealthy (HC) A wealthy Stiffbeard merchant. This clan can be found in the north east and they are famous for their (semi) domesticated Mûmakil. These dwarves have utilized these animals for transportation of goods (and warefare) for thousands of years.

These animals are so massive that few dare to mess with these traveling caravans, which allows them to travel in areas which is generally deemed to dangerous for ordinary dwarvish merchant expeditions.

Bonus closeup:

Prompt list:

[mrkida-art]

Dwarrowtober day 25: Betrayal Someone tattled to the dwarrowdams in Erebor, and the secret dwarfling gambling ring run by the young prince Dís was busted as a result.

Prompt list below:

[mrkida-art]

Another Dwarrowtober-piece!

Day 13: Prayer. Day 14: Tradition, and Day 15: Sword The hair cutting ceremony is part of the sacred mourning rituals which are practiced when a family member or loved one passes on to the next life. Dwarves cut their hair and beards to indicate the loss they have suffered, to lose someone is seen as losing a part of yourself and this is what the hair cutting symbolizes.

During this period of mourning, they keep their beards short but also avoid wearing elaborate hairstyles as it is seen improper. The length of the mourning period is highly personal, some keep it up for a few years, some do not let go of their grief for as long as they live.

Prompt list below: