The Long Road (part 1)
Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Thorin x Reader (eventually) Rating: General Warnings: General, Canon Compliant Violence Theme: N/A Request: N/A Words: 1521 Status: Part 1 Notes: I’ve seen so many “Reader Falls into Middle Earth” stories, and while I love every single one, it’s always an unprepared reader with very few skills that translate. I wanted to rectify that, if I could. Warnings are for each individual part. Later parts will likely contain Smut. Secondary Notes: For those who have never been to a Ren Faire, or a convention, peace tie is the act of rendering a weapon (usually a blade) unusable, by making it unable to be unsheathed. This is often done using zip ties. This is done for the safety of actors and patrons. All faires I’ve ever been to peace tie weapons upon entry. Some peace tie weapons bought in shops on fair grounds, others do not. Also, some faires allow patrons and actors to camp on premises, but outside the faire proper ----
It was your third weekend of Faire, and one of your first times off of the season. Wandering through the various shops, speaking to the artisans and other actors you knew as the morning faded into early afternoon, you immersed yourself in the painstakingly crafted world around you. Despite being off for the day, you’d chosen a simple tunic, trousers, and leather armor, sword peace tied to your side. At your back, your pack contained a few essentials you refused to leave in camp, as well as a change of dress should the afternoon call for it. Stopping at one of the carts on the path, you bought a packet of candied nuts and moved toward the open grounds for eating, roving actors amusing the patrons, some of whom were in garb themselves. Settling under a tree, you enjoyed your snack, the sun warming your skin and your eyes closed, the sounds of activity around you lulling you into a nap, feeling safe with people around whom you knew wouldn’t allow any harm befall you. You woke, however, to a different sort of clatter. It sounded more like camp, than the grounds, and you blinked, far more trees in your sight, and the sun much lower in the sky than should be. Following the sound of voices, you peeked over what appeared to have once been a stone fence, gasping softly at the sight before you. You knew these figures, though not in the same way as your fellow actors. Short, bustling, bearded and armored men - dwarves, you corrected - moved about what was clearly a camp, calling to one another as they worked. Among them, a head of short, curly blond hair bobbed, pitching in where the figure could, but mostly just staying out of the way. A quick headcount brought the number to twelve, and your lips pursed in thought, remembering the all too familiar story and trying to place who was missing and why, realization hitting you. You shrank back when a head turned your direction, and you took a slow, quiet breath, uncertain of what would happen if they found you. Your gaze moved to your sword, and you cursed the peace tie. If things progressed the way you thought they might, it would serve you no good. The sound of gravel and twigs crunching underfoot caught your ear, and you moved, wishing more fervently that you had use of your blade, just in case, when a hat-clad head hovered above you, “Oi, lads. We’ve got company.” You quickly found yourself surrounded, studied and questioned by too many Dwarrow at once, and you stood, holding your hands up to stay the commotion, “One at a time, or I cannot answer anything.” Thorin, of course, took the lead, sneering your way, “Who are you?” “Y/N.” That was simple, at least. His brow furrowed at the name, unfamiliar to his ears, not a common one for Middle Earth, “And are you friend or foe?” “Friend, I should think,” you said with a laugh, “Though, this is unexpected.” “How so?” “This is most certainly not where I’m from.” At the questioning looks, you sighed, shifting your pack from your back and holding a hand up again, “Nothing I’ve got in here will cause harm.” The closest would have been your flintstone, but even that was useless without tinder. They still watched with unease, and you could not fault them for it, even as you reached into a side pouch and pulled out two very foreign items.
You glanced around the group, locking eyes with Thorin and handing him your wallet before holding your phone out to Ori. While the leader of the company took the offered object, the scribe looked a little nervous, a few nods urging him to take it from you.
Thorin was had already unfolded the leather and was studying the construction as well as contents, “What's this?”
“My wallet,” you reached out, pulling a card from the confines, flicking it, “This is plastic. It's made from different compounds to be used in place of things like glass and metal. These cards are linked to accounts and allow me to make purchases where I'm from.” He took the card from you with a frown, studying it before returning it where it belonged, his attention turned now to your license. “That's my identification. It has my name, address, date of birth.”
He looked from the picture, to your face with a frown, trying to reconcile the difference that ten years had made in your features. “And what's this, Miss?” Ori asked, still turning your phone over in his hands.
“That, is my phone. It's a device that lets me communicate verbally over great distances. It's metal, plastic, and glass all bundled to make it.” You reached out and carefully pressed the power button on the side, drawing it to life. Your lock screen was a picture from Faire that a friend had taken, you in the heat of a match, sword drawn, mouth open in a battle cry. Sliding your finger over the screen to unlock it as the others peered over the younger Dwarf's shoulder, revealing a sight that made Thorin's frown deepen.
“That's…”
“The Lonely Mountain, yes,” you finished, gently taking your belongings back and tucking them away.
“How?”
“That's a long story,” you offered, shrugging. “One I'm willing to tell when time allows, if you'll have me, but first, if one of you would be so kind.” Your hand finally found the hilt of your sword and the group tensed, hands going to their own weapons only to frown when your tug did not unsheathe the bound blade. Catching onto your request, Nori moved forward with a knife, cutting the tie and you smiled, “Thank you.”
Stepping back, you bowed low, glancing up, “Y/N L/N, at your service.”
The company looked to Thorin, waiting quietly until he inclined his head, “Thorin Oakenshield, and Company, at yours.”
They broke back into their tasks after that, you helping where you could, making light conversation and getting to know the company in ways kept from the stories of your world. A nervousness remained about them, in your presence, but you didn't mind. You were much the same, though for a different reason. Questions were hurled your way, many about your world, though some about your knowledge of theirs. You answered what you could, but begged off some questions for another time, eventually taking a bowl from Bilbo when he was sent to take Fili and Kili their dinner.
“I can handle this, you know. They aren't far,” he groused as you moved through the trees.
“The delivery, yes.” What came after was more the reason you were going along.
When you came upon the princes, they drew on you, frowning at Bilbo, “Who's she?”
The Hobbit ignored Fili's question, glancing around, “We seem to be short two ponies.”
He looked to the brothers, who looked suitably chastised, “Yes, we were just… what are you doing?” Kili's gaze moved from Bilbo to where you were moving slowly past the uprooted tree, quiet.
Rolling your eyes, you looked back, “Investigating.” You didn't need to. You'd learned their quest as a child, and continued to love it into adulthood. You knew where the ponies were, and what would transpire, but wondered how much you could change it. Moving further through the brush, you were joined by the other three, sighing when you saw the trolls. “Go tell the others.” There was whispering behind you, and you didn't bother to see who left, creeping forward still as the gruesome trio around the fire conversed. You were no match for them, even with Fili and Kili, doubtfully even with the rest of them. The only way this could play out properly as close to what would occur without you as possible.
Taking a deep breath, you broke through the brush, “Excuse me, I believe you have something of mine!”
The plan - if it could even be called that - wasn't your greatest, but you hadn't really had time, intent on taking care of the situation to the best of your ability. If it hadn't been for Bilbo's quick thinking, stalling for time, and Gandalf's return, you'd have been troll food. Thankfully things worked out, however, and you abstained from joining the group in the hoard, instead looking over your belongings and making sure nothing was missing, already calculating the events ahead. It all depended, really, but you had a good idea.
You were right. Radaghast showed, taking Gandalf aside, and then the Orcs. The stupid orcs. Your sword was useless at your side as you ran, cursing and ducking to remain out of sight. As the tallest of the group - though not by much - you had to crouch more, breathing deeply and nudging Kili. He glanced up, realization dawning, before looking to Thorin for instructions. With a nod from his uncle, he readied his bow and stepped out, aiming and firing quickly.
And then you were on the move again, following Gandalf to the hidden path, already making your way as the Dwarves discussed behind you if they would follow.
The path opened around you, revealing the breathtaking beauty of Rivendell, and you smiled. You were safe, for now.