Imagine Thorin realising how worried you are for the quest to Erebor…
You found him in the curved hallway of Mr Baggin’s home. The company had chosen to talk with a softer voices while the Hobbit host recovered in the living room following his frightful collapse. In truth, your response to the quest to reclaim the mountain and slay the dragon had been similar, knees buckling and mouth-drying.
“Hello there.” Thorin greeted, lowering the drink in his hand to give you his full attention. You flashed him a smile but it was fleeting as a question vexed your expression into a small frown and knit your brows.
“Thorin, I must inquire - are you absolutely certain that this is the right path?” You asked. “Can it not wait until we have a plan in place?”
Thorin provided a single nod. His voice was low and patient as though he knew you would ask such a thing. “Dain has read the-”
“The portents. I know.” You finished for him, recalling the words of Balin only moments ago. You turned away and shook your head. “Apparently, they are an unmoving force no matter the peril that lay at the end.”
Thorin’s gaze settled on your eyes. He knew you were troubled. Had this been another of his kin questioning his actions, he would have scolded their wavering faith. But you? What thoughts he had to reprimand vanished before they could form, replaced with only a strong urge to reassure your safety.
“What troubles you?” He asked.
You faced him once more and answered with honesty. “Everything.” You took note of how the warm light of the Hobbit’s home softened his features. He waited quietly for you to finish. “There is an unsettled feeling in my chest that has taken hold. I almost fear the journey ahead.”
Thorin set the ale aside on a small oak table and took your hands in his. He stroked the skin gently before pulling you two steps closer, nearly flush against his chest. A hand settled on your waist as his eyes held contact with your own melting away the rest of the world.
“I must do this.” He whispered. “I also do not wish you such discomfort. If you choose to wait for me in the Blue Mountains, I would never fault you for doing so. But if you are willing to join me, I will be with you every step of this journey. Over every bridge crossing, past every unsavoury creature, and unstable mountain path, I will be by your side.”
“What of the dragon?” You asked in return, voice equally soft. Smaug was the beast that was laying wait at the end of the journey.
“If our burglar can take back the Arkenstone, we will have no reason to face down the beast.” Thorin answered. He let you sit with his answers for a moment longer before asking, “Do I have the privilege of your company for this quest?”
Worry still seeped into your bones but you could not fathom remaining behind and waiting for days on end with no news. You squeezed his hands and sighed softly, decision coming to pass. “I will be at your side to reclaim Erebor. You have my heart, Thorin.”
Thorin raised your hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss atop the knuckles. “As you have mine.”
~ More imagines here ~
A/n: Fun fact, this was inspired by the word ‘portents’ as I read it multiple times in The Knight and the Moth by Rachel Gillig. Funny how the mind works!
Yellow Dandelions ('A single, yellow dandelion' part two)
(Kíli Durin x Female Reader)
(Not my gifs, credit goes to the creators)
The schedule for upcoming stories
Middle-Earth Masterlist
My Main Blog Masterlist
Part One
Requested by: many
Requests: Open
Fandom: The Hobbit Trilogy
Request: By the request of many, part two to 'A single, yellow dandelion'.
Warnings: Angst (yummy), mentions of injury/gore, love confession, happy ending, mentions of character death, Kíli lives, mention of: grief, war, and gore. Misunderstanding trope (short lived, as all this occurs over a week max).
Words: 6.7k (my longest one so far)
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.
This should only be found on my blog.
Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin .
A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.
Please note, this is the first thing I have properly written since 2022.
PLEASE READ: So this is the first thing I have properly written in like three years, I tried really hard, and I think it ends their story well as an ending to part one. I didn't know how to finish this, and after throwing around some ideas, I figured this was best. I didn't want to skip anything, we all know how clumsy, and stressed we all get when upset, how our entire behaviour can change whilst wounded. How when one thing goes wrong it becomes a chain reaction. I tried to immerse us, as if it happened in real life, no quick fix, the reader isn't perfect with their reactions.
I am very nervous I will disappoint. I put a LOT of time and effort into this, I am proud of it but very nervous no one will like it. I apologies for the long wait. Ah, I am so scared right now, pahaha. I feel like I did such a great job with part one, but that was more cheerier, this is more about what comes after, how a person can change by having their feelings hurt when upset. I also can't stand the misunderstanding trope existing for longer then necessary, I love me some misunderstanding drama but not when it gets annoying. I did a lot of proof reading many times, even had someone read my work I am so nervous, haha. I haven't watched The Hobbit in a while, and I haven't written in even longer. I hope you all enjoy. AHHHHH.
Thank you.
:)
By the way, (y/r) stands for your race, whether a Hobbit, Dwarf, etc.
FYI, just tagging you guys in as you previously asked for a a part two, feel no pressure to read:)
He never did come after her. Of course, she didn’t go back either. (Y/n) couldn’t breathe, and not in the way she cannot around Kíli, this hurt, even more so than it did when the older Prince of Erebor confronted her. She had not headed to her chambers, instead she ran for the city, hoping that after a day or so of running she will be lost forever and never have to face anyone. Such a pleasant idea, to hide away from prying eyes, and never disappoint anyone ever again, lest herself.
Of course, when one’s body is shaking, and the throat is quivering, swelling, and the nose is blocking, you cannot run for long. So, she headed upwards and dived in the armoury next to the Mountain’s main entrance. A terrible idea, as that very day Bard would come with a preposition, Thranduil in tow, and this would be one of the armouries the Company search in.
An hour after the door thunks to a slow close behind her, and she began her hiding between stalls off shields, does it open again.
Gasping, she slaps her hand to her mouth, eyes wide as her other arm tightens it’s hold around her knees. The Dwarf is humming to himself, his heavy boots hitting the floor as he slowly makes his way through the main room of the armoury, to the secondary chamber where she is hidden. (Y/n) utters thanks to the Gods in her head when the footsteps go to the opposite side, where the short swords are.
Curiosity gets the best of her, and she cannot help but move her palms to press against the cold stone beneath her so she may gently push herself up with her fingers. Of course, as much as everyone praised her dress, apparently it has turned against her just like Kíli. (She knows she is in the wrong, but still). The sole of her boot catches on it before she releases, causing her knees to get pulled down just as she goes to stand, and she trips. As she is tripping whilst knelt down, she falls forward, and her hands catch her just as her nose hits the stone. A cry rips from her.
A sword clatters, Óin having been inspecting them to see how they had fared against time with no use. He may be deaf, but he is a healer, and he can sense these things. He has also attuned himself to listen out for his loved one’s pain as well as he can with his worsening hearing.
“(Y/n)? Lassie, are you alr-”
A cry of fury cuts him off as he hurries over to her. He grabs his wonderful tool from his belt and presses the end to his ear, as his other hand goes to her back.
(Y/n) is most certainly having a terrible day. Ignoring the itching embarrassment, her almost destroyed pride, and her wrenching heart, she pushes herself up and turns onto her knees, flashing the smile he had become so accustomed to. “Yes, Óin. I'm sorry for disrupting you. Please go on, I will take care of myself.”
He frowns, angling the horn better towards her, the hand that followed her goes to gently hold her chin. His hand is rough, no doubt from decades of swordsmanship, and gathering prickly herbs, yet his touch is so gentle she can barely feel him. “You took a nasty fall there, lass. Let me take care of you.”
She shakes her head, cheeks flushing an even darker shade of red that spreads to her chest, and the tip of her ears. Oh, how her cheeks burn. “No, please, I assure you, it is a simple knock -.”
Óin, having tucked away his horn shakes his head, “this isn’t your home lassie, we need to treat you now.” Gently he places a hand on either side of her waist and helps lift her up as if she were his daughter, his brow deeply furrowed. “You’re bleeding.”
Oh. (Y/n), preoccupied in her deep flushed cheeks, and searing nose failed to notice the blood dripping down her lip into her mouth. Óin quickly plugs up her nose with a scratchy handkerchief – more of a rag – and she wipes her teeth with her tongue. Metallic.
Ironic, as she is basically in a giant mine, she thinks to herself.
Her eyes are once again weeping, despite having run out of tears ten minutes ago. She doesn’t register Óin leading her out of the rooms and back into the main passage as she touches her own face in shock. How foolish of her.
Foolish. The perfect word. Foolish for not realising braiding was an offer of courtship. Foolish for courting Kíli before telling him how she felt. Foolish for giving him her precious bead. Foolish for taking signs of courtship as simple kindness. Wait. Who could blame her? Bilbo made her tea all the time, and the Company were always hunting for meat. Perhaps one should state their intentions. Ori had bought her flowers when she was sad during her most recent moon bleed, yes Kíli looked at him funny, but he was being kind. Furthermore, where were the courtship walks? The promenading? She did not bear witness in it, nor partake.
Yet, she is still foolish. Foolish for letting Fíli tell him first. Foolish for hiding in a place next to the Gate in which the Company are taking turns patrolling. Foolish for crying over a member of the opposite sex. Equally foolish for being nosey, not watching where her hem is, and tripping. (Y/n) has learnt to fight, defend herself, something she is quite good at, and she is especially foolish for allowing her first big bleed of the journey be by falling face first into the floor.
The heart will heal but the humiliation shall forever linger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy: Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin ~~~~~~~~~~~~
How long has passed? An hour? Prince Kíli is yet to move from his place against the wall. The only part him which moves is his left hand, as he plays with his Runestone. He did not cry, the tears trapped in his eyes, they sting. He cannot take his eyes away from it, the single yellow dandelion on the floor. It mocks him.
Was (Y/n) mocking him? No. (Y/n) is as kind as she is beautiful. He tries to replay the argument, but all he can remember is the anguish he felt, her face as she spoke, the hands on her hips. Angry. Acting as if one verbalises their feelings when actions are sweeter. Surely his actions proved enough that he was at least attempting to court her as she did not realise, they already were in courtship. Hunting. Gifts. Touch. Were these not signs enough?
He is foolish. Foolish indeed.
“Good evening, Kíli – oh, Kíli what is wrong?” His eyes snap upwards to their kind Burglar clad in his waistcoat and blazer. Worriedly, he bends down, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. They had dropped formalities a while ago, they are friends. Yet, Kíli knows Master Baggins must have known (Y/n) and her feelings. That fact alone stings.
“Nothing,” the prince forces his familiar smirk, pushing himself up from the floor and wall, “what brings you here Master Burglar?” He frowns. “Is everything well? My uncle? My brother?” For the first time since he watched (Y/n) walk away his heartbeat quickens from the previous slow drawl. Surely the Men of Dale aren’t attacking? Bard is a good man. Kind. With a kind family. No. That is not Bard’s way. Perhaps the elves? His lip curls at the idea of Thranduil. Legolas and Tauriel were kind enough, though he has a suspicion they are acting alone.
“No, Kíli, nothing like that.” Bilbo states, the familiar look of constant mild distress on his face as he too stands, gazing up at the Dwarf. “Are you sure everything is fine? You can tell me anything.”
Wrong. He can only talk to his big brother about this. The sentiment is kind, however. He shakes his head, smiling, his left hand playing with his mother’s runestone. He wanted to gift this to (Y/n), a promise, a promise like the one he etched into that dagger. His heart jolts, and his cheeks quiver as he forces away the frown. How foolish of him to think he could ever pass it down to their child.
“Well, uh. Watch. Ah, yes. That’s it,” the Hobbit suddenly smiles, and straightens, swinging back and forth on his heels, “Bofur sent me down to remind you that it’s your watch next. Only because when they brought over lunch, Bifur apparently mentioned that no one had seen you for three or so hours.”
Watch, of course. His turn tonight, without his brother. That conversation would have to wait. So will the tears he so desperately needs to shed, he daren’t weep and have to explain to Dwalin how foolish and naive he is.
“Thank you, Master Baggins,” he smiles down to him, “I shall bid you a good night.” He bows deep, his hair swinging behind him when he stands tall again.
The Hobbit’s brow remains furrowed. “Yes, thank you. Good night – I mean –” the Dwarf prince begins to walk away, but Bilbo jogs after him, scrambling with his words, “thank you, Kíli, but there is food waiting for you, Bombur kept a portion aside I believe, another for (Y/n) –”
That forces him to stop. Even if he wanted to move, his legs would not allow it. He turns to the Hobbit, who almost walks past him, placing a grounding hand on Bilbo’s arm.”
“(Y/n) has not eaten?”
“- so no need to bid goodnight, yet Kíli. We are headed to the same destination – wait.” Bilbo almost seems to grow in height as his gaze hardens almost to a glare, and his shoulders square, Kíli’s hand falls. “We all thought (Y/n) came to see you?”
Kíli has to turn away as the flashes of their exchange course through his mind. He almost feels shame. Why?
“Oh well,” the Hobbit chuckles charmingly, “she must have gone back with Fíli when her break finished and missed us.” He pats him on his shoulder before continuing on. “I did see her heading back inside the Mountain before she meant to find you, must have spent most of her time out there, not enough time to come see you. That makes sense.”
The dandelion. He jolts, making the poor Hobbit lean away. Before Bilbo can say anything, Kíli runs back to where he was sat, and gently kneels to pick up the dandelion. Soft. He wonders if her skin truly feels as soft as it looks. Not that he will ever know. It must do, compared to his hands, the hands of a workman.
He runs back to the curious Hobbit who keeps glancing back to him as they walk. Yet the prince cannot take his eyes off that single, yellow Dandelion. Alike the one he gave her, except fresh whereas he imagines the one he gave her is since long dead. She must have searched hard for the flower.
How foolish of him to think a fine, ethereal being as her could ever like him. He cannot shake the memory, of how she looked when he was dying, as Tauriel healed her. She looked – well, he cannot think any gods of any race compare. He hopes the memory never fades. Let it be the last he sees before departing. How foolish of him. For he is the Dwarf with no proper beard. The Dwarf taller than most. The Dwarf who looks more like he is of Men compared to his brother, cousins and friends. He is foolish. He has no people, yet. He isn’t even heir. How foolish of him to think – to believe otherwise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nodding along to herself, (Y/n) fails to notice the kind Dwarf lead her to the chamber they all mingle in together – when they are not searching for the Arkenstone. The gasps of outrage and worry hit her first as Bifur, Nori, Dori and Balin crowd her. They all mutter questions about how this happened. As if it were more likely Men came down to take Erebor in the past hour with the watchmen missing it, all with the purpose of targeting her first.
“Stop crowding the lass. Bifur release her.” Óin almost shouts, horn against his ear. The other Dwarf grumbles in his mother tongue as he gently releases her from his chest where he had been cradling her side.
The other three step back, revealing the space between them. She doesn’t hear them. How can she? The second her eyes meet her Prince’s the world goes silent, until all she can hear is her own breath, and the thumping of her heartbeat in her nose.
As if this whole situation cannot get worse. Now he can clearly tell she was crying, tripped over herself and face planted.
It hasn’t been long since she last saw him, yet it feels like it’s been years. His eyes soften, as he takes in her appearance, his brow creases in worry, his hands clench. “What happened?”
He does not meet her eyes, but she tries. His cheeks aren’t stained like hers. Of course not, he is a Prince. Better offers than her. She told him she ‘can’t believe she wanted to marry him’, and he said nothing. Well, beforehand he said he wanted to marry her, but not anymore.
She looks away, and grins at everyone, and laughs, “hem got stuck, tripped over and face planted. The Elves skill is unmatched, but it isn’t worthy for searching the for the Arkenstone in.”
“Don’t worry lass Bofur will fix you up, and Nori can sew the rip,” Dori states, patting his brother on the back.
“What? Why can’t you do it? You’ve got far more years of prac–” Nori gasps, baffled, although his chest does puff proudly at the idea of doing it.
“Because your keen eye for the treasures of this world has made you more detail orientated,” Balin jokes, though his brow remains creased. Dori nods along, Bifur and he thump his younger brother again, almost knocking him to the ground, whilst Nori squares his shoulder, grinning proudly as he grounds himself.
“Have no fear, Miss (Y/n), for Nori is here.”
It does make her laugh, and Kíli preens at the sound from afar.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” the familiar distressed tone of Bilbo interrupts as he makes his way between Bifur and Balin, “let me look at her.” He stops in front of her, hands on her arms as his frown deepens. “This won’t do. It doesn’t look broken, thankfully.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy: Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin ~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been a dramatic few days, no doubt, and dramatic several months more so. Of course, it will only get worse. Besides the constant ache in (Y/n)’s chest, there is a much larger issue. The Arkenstone.
It could not be found.
This has to be the worst week of (Y/n)’s life, and she was almost eaten by Goblins a couple months ago, not to mention then later imprisoned by the Mirkwood King. Although, admittedly, the cell was quite hygienic.
After her humiliation in the Armoury, their dear healer had cleaned her nose and stopped the bleeding. It’ll be red and hurt for a few more days, but no fracture. A relief, a small grace. She changed into her travelling dress, which was thankfully calf length, and had bathed. However, Bard had come in alliance with King Thranduil against them, but she cannot feel betrayed. Thorin made a promise, that must be kept.
She does not hesitate to follow Bilbo after seeing him sneak away during a break to find relief. Hurt at first, when Bilbo had explained she soon followed him.
After all, by then the entire Company knew the complete story of (Y/n) and Kíli, or at least his side from his brother. Thorin deemed her unworthy of a prince anyway in his dragon sickness, Nori was annoyed at her, Ori too, Dori was understanding somewhat, Balin understood her side, Dwalin too, Bifur, Bombur and Bofur did too but the last three remained on Kíli’s side. Glóin thought Kíli should have been clearer, the only one to speak out, due to his experience with the love of his life (his wife, although his son was also a love of his life). Fíli at least had the courtesy to look sheepish. It currently stood only Glóin, and Bilbo were on her side, Balin and Dwalin neither with everyone else on his. Óin sympathised, but still thought Kíli clear with his gifts, and letting her touch his hair. Understandable in (Y/n)’s eyes, touch is intimate. Still, it did not change the fact that he rejected her the first few times, making her think touch wasn’t intimate like with her own people, and he did not like her at first, and that the gifts after were Kíli being himself. Kíli is so kind, so gentle. Honestly, (Y/n) had not thought herself special enough to consider a Prince was courting her. Or perhaps she is stupid. She has always struggled with social cues.
Óin had told her to take the dagger off her side, it would give the wrong idea. (Y/n) told him, she told Kíli she had wanted to marry him before their dispute, and the prince did nothing to remedy that. The healer suggested Kíli did not hear her, (Y/n) had said maybe Óin could share his horn then.
Currently, she lies on a set up bed opposite Bilbo. That rat from Dale is meant to keep an eye on them. Why should they be punished? Bilbo has kindly offered them a negotiable item; the Company aren’t going to hurt them. If you had asked her ten days ago, she would have said the King Under the Mountain would never hurt them either – now she wasn’t so sure. Like Bilbo she is fiercely loyal to the entire Company, but King Thorin is in the wrong.
Sleep cannot find her, and she knows Bilbo well, he has a plan of escape brewing no doubt. She finds herself entertaining herself by pretending her fingers are people and making them converse and perform dramatic scenarios. Then she recreates her argument with Kíli, using far better comebacks, and delivering her point far better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where were you last night?”
(Y/n) jumps and yelps before turning around. Handsome. Kíli has always been the definition of that word and always will be. Her heart skips, a heat curling low in her belly. Now, he looked like a prince. An armoured one with no helmet, despite the high likelihood of an arrow in the head, a Prince.
Kíli has armour over his chainmail, ready to defend his Kingdom. (Y/n) despite her hurt cannot look away, it somehow highlights his hair, his skin tone, everything. Her face feels hot. (Y/n) has armour on also, though they could not find any women’s able to fit her chest due to altered bust size, so instead she wears men’s armour which at least pushes everything down. Bofur had spent an hour panicking, and dotting over her as he altered the straps to fit her, they dotted over Bilbo too. (Y/n) had previously shot Azog in his right eye after the Goblins, and he had accidentally pulled out the eye with the arrow, so they knew that she could handle herself against some Elves and Men, still everyone dotted over each other. It is what happens when a King decides to invite all his cousins on an adventure, and his closest friends.
“On a walk around the halls with Bilbo.” His brow furrows at her excuse. “Why do you care?”. It is still dark outside; the others are risen but keeping to themselves until just before sunrise. In truth (Y/n) and Bilbo had only returned an hour ago.
“You know why I care.” His gaze is soft, his eyes earnest, it hurts to look into them. She swallows the lump in her throat, and Kíli cannot stop his own gaze from drifting down to her neck to where it is then protected.
“I thought those feelings are gone.”
He flinches, gaze flying up, “what?” He whispers. He had spent all night worried about the attack, then worried she had been taken, and she truly deemed his feelings gone? How? “How can you say that to me?”
“You said it not me,” (Y/n) squares her shoulders, staring fiercely up to him.
Kíli was wounded, no doubt about that, but he is grown, not a child. He must make it clear, and they must talk through it. However, before he can, the passage begins to fill with voices, tearing away his gaze. Before he can stop himself, his gloved hand gently takes her own, causing (Y/n)’s breath to get stuck in her throat. He tries to ignore the heat spreading from her hand to his, and up his arm, “after this. After my uncle gives the people of Dale what he owes, I will find you.” The King, his uncle is a good person, he will do what is right, that he is sure off.
Her heart stutters at that, and despite her heart ache she finds herself biting her lip, fighting a smile. The prince notices and doesn’t try to hide his own smile at that.
How is it this dwarf can burn away her fury with a smile?
How is it this (y/r) can make his pain vanish with one look?
For a second both can only feel peace, as they gaze into one another.
(Y/n) gives a gentle nod.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy: Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin ~~~~~~~~~~~~
King Thorin did not give the people of Dale what he owes. Instead at the revelation of Bilbo’s betrayal he tried to kill him, Kíli and his family having to intervene. Then, of course, Thranduil had to knock the Dwarves down as much as he can. So, he jested that they could not even trust the future bride of one of their own Prince’s. Of course, Thorin had pulled out his sword, and both his nephews fought him off as she ran for the rope.
Is it truly betrayal if the one being betrayed has lost the plot?
Well, yes, and (Y/n) did not take that lightly, same as Bilbo. Of course, Thorin refused to accept it, War went to unfold with his cousin’s appeared forces, until Azog’s armies decided to make an appearance.
Kíli had been confused, and distraught at the revelation of the betrayal from the two, but he understood, which makes him feel like he was the one who betrayed his uncle.
In the end, Thorin fought the sickness, and the Dwarves joined the battle. (Y/n) fought bravely, taking down enemies, counting how many. Much to the bewilderment of others, she and Glóin had previously started a competition some point in the journey for count of kills, and with this battle, she is now leading. Hopefully.
When she saw Thorin, and the princes go up the mountain, she did not hesitate to follow. Kíli a kind and gentle soul did not hesitate to defend Tauriel, attempting to save her. By the time (Y/n) arrived, Fíli was dead, Thorin fighting Azog.
Bolg, the ugliest Orc ever, went to stab Kíli through the heart. Of course, he never got the chance as (Y/n) threw herself onto his head (she’s not stupid, you would need more than two people to kill that monster), making him stumble, Kíli in one hand, until he walked to the edge, and knocked she, Tauriel, Kíli, and himself off the edge. Legolas got the kill in the end, Kíli was still injured, his leg stabbed.
This brings (Y/n) to the present. Four days after Azog’s demise. Four days since the death of sweet Fíli, and King Thorin. Dáin, and Thranduil had both bought healers with their armies, and were unafraid to share them amongst their allies, thankfully. Like the rest of the company, she had paid respects at the bodies, unable to find Kíli, the last she saw of him being when she handed him away. He’d whispered things, similar to when he was poisoned, but this time she knew some words, such as Amrâlimê.
After everything, their argument seemed silly, she shouldn’t have stormed off, and he should have listened to her. Funny, what feelings can do to someone.
What should she do next? Return home?
What ever chance she had with Mister Kíli before, without a doubt has vanished. For he is The King Under the Mountain, there will be plenty of dwarf-women with luscious beads a Dwarf like him should prefer.
If Kíli could hear her thoughts, he would most certainly ask her if she was well. Clearly, he should have been more verbal with his desires. For three days – after spending a night and day unconscious – he has been dealing with logistics, future plans, funeral plans, and alliances with those who helped protect the mountain. Never, was he supposed to be King, Fíli was.
The reminder of his name pulls hard at his heart, and he has to clutch it in order to try and breath again. Why him? Why does he live?
Of course, he knows his Amrâlimê made it so, but why would Aulë allow it? Surely, he was the least qualified, immature.
He had barely been given an hour with his brother and uncle alone. Is he not King? Can he not deem where his time is spent? He has since reunited with the rest of the Company but finds himself watching (Y/n) from afar. Did she feel as he felt? Unable to breath when away from her? Unable to see the true beauty of the emerald Erebor without her by his side?
His entire life he has waited to go to Erebor, but now the Kingdom feels predatory, as if Smaug is still here, without his brother, uncle and mother by his side.
He watches her, clad in a fresh linen shirt, and trousers. He tries to stop his eyes from lingering on her body, having only seen her in dresses. Her hair is twisted in an updo. No ribbon today, making him frown. She must have lost it in the battle. He must scour the battlefield for it. (Y/n) prefers it to the clasps and ties currently in her hair. She has clearly put on the first clothes given to her, yet he finds himself unable to look away. He has never seen such a beauty, Mithril can barely compare to her.
She helps as she helps an injured Dwarf walk with a stick for the first time. So gentle, so kind.
He cannot look away from her, cannot fight the urge to be with her, consume her.
“Blimey. It’s like waiting for the market to open three hours early,” the voice startles him. Bilbo. “Stop watching her like some sort of criminal and talk to her.”
He faces the Hobbit, “sorry?”
Bilbo looks quite the definition of unamused. “We’re not blind, you know?”
“Exactly!” The voice of Ori yelps from afar, once again, the Company present are clearly watching their favourite play. A yelp soon follows as Dori clips him over the head, making Nori bellow a laugh.
“Look,” Bilbo says, placing a hand on his back as he turns them away, “it is true, you should have asked her to court you, not presumed. She doesn’t know all about your culture, you know? There aren’t many books on it, your people are quite secretive.” Kíli nods, proud of his people’s privacy. “I know she has feelings for you; I saw that dandelion you leapt after. Now is the time, sweet Dwarf to go and make your intentions known.”
Kíli stops walking, biting his lip as he turns to his friend, “I don't know. There has just been a ba-”
“- Before she leaves.” Bilbo interrupts him, sighing, nodding slowly as he turns to stare at the ground wistfully.
“What?!” Kíli shouts, causing everyone to turn to look at him quizzically, including (Y/n). “Nothing to see here.” They all quickly avert their gaze, except (Y/n) who lingers. “What do you mean she’s leaving?” He whispers, eyes trying to meet the Halfling’s who fails to look up from the floor.
“Well, she can’t stay forever, she has a life. Perhaps you can send her share of the treasure via courier?” Bilbo fights hard to fight of a smirk, which continues to succeed.
“A life?” Kíli looks distraught. He will be in her life, not matter what. He inhales, nodding as he straightens his back, sharpening his posture. He puffs out the chest, “I will talk to her. Apologise.”
“Good on you,” Bibo lets himself grin as the young Dwarf turns on his heel, and begins to limp over to her.
He’s doing it. He is doing it! HE IS DOING IT!
“Excuse me, my King –“
He is not doing it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is only that evening is the King spare, having allocated supplies and food for the time being. Kíli’s easy smile falls to his face as he hobbles along to the new chambers delegated to his lady. Of course, if she accepted his offer her chambers will be far finer.
His knocks are firm, and within a minute (Y/n) opens the door, a flash of heat hits his body from the fireplace. His bow is deep, and he grins as he rises, then his smile falls. She is glad in a nightgown, a spare hide pulled around her shoulders. He gasps, quickly averting his eyes to her face as his cheeks redden, and he swallows the lump in his throat.
Her mouth opens in a gentle ‘oh’, her cheeks also flushing. Good, Kíli thinks to himself, having some hope she is as mad for him, as he is she.
“I have come to apologise. I told you I’d find you.” He smirks, trying not to watch as she fixes her grip on her makeshift shawl.
“You told me you’d find me.” She gently repeats, the cold of the stonework seeping through her thick socks.
“I apologise for the time; this is my first moment alone. But I was foolish, you are undressed, and I apologise -”
She cuts him off with a gentle laugh, it tugs at his heart, his arm twitching as he fights to stop it from clutching his heart. “Don’t be daft, Mister – My King, you have seen me in worser conditions on our adventure.”
He has not. She always had layers over her nightgown due to propriety and the temperature. In fact, he is certain she did not wear a nightgown, instead underclothes like men underneath another dress she wore for the evening. A dress not of white cotton, thin material.
She steps aside to let him in, and he bows in thanks, making her laugh. “A King should not bow.”
He turns to her, eyes firm, serious, making her cheeks flush harsher, “I will always bow to you.”
Oh my. Now her cheeks burn, she can feel it radiating, the muscles in her face hurt from smiling as she swallows, the warmth spreading through her.
“Oh.”
“First I wish to thank you for saving -,” one hand remains on his stick, grounding him, the other fumbling behind his back when she cuts him off.
Her mouth is set in a line, eyes firm, commanding as she shakes her head, shutting the door behind him, “don’t be so bloody ridiculous. I wasn’t going to just let you die.”
“No. No. Of course not, what I mean, is –,” the flush on his face and neck spreads to his ears, and down his arms, staining his skin pink.
“Ever.”
Blimey. Kíli nods to himself, unable to take his eyes from hers no matter how much he wishes to look away to gather himself.
“But you are welcome,” (Y/n) grins at him, teasing him. Blimey. He loves it.
“Thank you,” his easy smirk attempts to fight the flush on his face, “secondly – I. I know I am in the wrong. I shouldn’t have expected you to know our rituals, I should have asked you –”
“Wait, Kíli –” She shakes her head, reaching out a hand to stop him, but he cuts her off.
“Please, let me finish,” she nods, and he takes a gulp of air, “I shouldn’t have said what I did either. My pride was wounded; I should have listened to you.” She nods as he speaks, not in agreement but in earnest, to show she is listening. “I should have asked you, I thought you were asking me, but still, I am the Dwarf. I should have noticed how easily you kept asking to braid my hair, that you didn't know the meaning. I'm sorry.”
It is late, she was on the brink of sleep, and despite planning the conversation in her head the past week, she did not imagine it to occur like this. Here the King stands in her chambers, late at night, clad in similar wear to his journey, yet to step into fully into his reign. The crown he has donned the last few days is not here. He is here as Kíli, she realises, not as the second in line after Fíli, nor as the King. Kíli. With so long to stew in her anger, and humiliation, all that is left is her hurt, her vulnerability.
His eyes are soft, so soft, yet they attempt to strip back the layers of her soul as they gaze into her eyes, “the truth is – I was upset. I thought finally someone finds me... attractive. And not just anyone, you, the only one amongst Dwarves, a Halfling and a Wizard. The longer we spent together, the more I enjoyed your presence, then when we began to what I thought was courting, I could not consider being away from you.” He gasps for air again, watching as sweet (Y/n) clutches her chest.
“Please, please, just forgive me.” He almost whispers, lips parting dutifully as his earnestness in his eyes grows, “when Fíli told me the truth I was furious at him, even more so you. Still, I should have never spoken to my brother and you as I did. Especially you, when our relat – our friendship could not mend as easily. I didn't listen to you.”
So much more he wishes to say, yet he finds himself unable to, not when her lips part again, so eager to speak before she does.
“Oh Kíli,” his eyes clench shut for a second, unable to take how it sounds on her lips, “I should have noticed, especially with your most recent gift.” He fights back a flinch as he remembers how it looked to see her without it; how much it hurt when she took it off. All his own doing. “The truth is, I never thought you, as wonderful, as kind as you are… could ever fancy me.” His brows furrow at that. Does she not realise her beauty rivals the rarest jewel? “When you let me braid your hair, I enjoyed it far more than I should have. I was confused by your sudden change of character, thought you finally thought of me as a member of this company. When Fíli told me I was shocked and horrified I had been courting you without showing how I felt. I was shocked at finding myself courting anyone, this is my first time, you see.” Kíli fights back an evil thought of ‘good’ at the idea of (Y/n) never courting anyone beforehand. “When you confronted me, I was angry, angry you were playing victim, when I felt it was I who was fooled. You should have asked me to court you, but I also should have asked about the braiding and the looks the company were giving us. When you said you couldn’t believe you had ever wished to marry me, I was wounded and angry, that is why I said it back. I was angry, so angry, which is why I fled, why I cried, why I stupidly tripped over myself and hit my nose, and why I was even angrier at you for not crying when I came in with Óin.”
The smile that begun to grow, the hope in his chest falls. “I did this to you?” He whispers, heart breaking and before he can stop him self the hand behind his back moves to gently cup her cheek. He stops himself from actually touching her, thankfully, merely hovering. Under no circumstances would he ever wish to make her uncomfortable. “D-does it still hurt?” He gulps.
She shakes her head, brows softening, eyes as soft and as deep as a spring. Before she can stop herself, she clasps her own hand over his, placing it against her cheek. She does not move her hand, and both try to ignore the swarming butterflies in their bellies.
In truth her pain had long since faded, par when she touches it harshly, which she has learned not to do.
“Oh, my dear Kíli, I did this. My clumsiness,” she lets out a breathless laugh, “you would never hurt me, and never could. I’d kill you if you ever did.”
They both laugh at that.
“My world… my world has ended,” Kíli admits, “my brother is gone.” He clenches his eyes shut, head tilting up to the ceiling ever so slightly, and her own eyes begin to well at the memory, of her own friendship, but the tears that slip from her are for his pain. “My uncle, my King, killed. My mother is far away, I -,” he opens his eyes, letting his tears fall loose as he looks down to her, “I should want to die. I do, but not as much as I should.” She gasps at the idea of him ever dying, the pain too much and before she can stop her urge, she places her other hand on his chest, over his heart. “I know I have a duty, I know I should live for those we have lost. I want to make them proud – I-I do.” His voice cracks at that, “I confess, I am holding on that bit more because I know you are still here, on this plain. That somewhere, no matter where you are, you will be happy. And that happiness makes me happy. I wish to bare witness to it, to your happiness, everyone’s, but mostly yours.”
“Oh Kíli.”
His forehead tilts to meet her own, causing their breath to get caught in their throats, as their eyes shut closed. For a second, they stay like that, not moving, not touching further.
“I confess, my feelings remain unchanged. I must know if you accept my apology, you owe nothing else.”
Her eyes drift open, unable able to tear from his closed ones. “Oh Kíli, not matter how mad at you I am, I could never stop loving you.”
He gasps, eyes flying open, meeting hers. “O-oh.”
“I accept your apology, if you accept mine.”
“There is no need for me to, Amrâlimê. You did nothing wrong. I was the fool.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy: Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01-mrsdurin ~~~~~~~~~~~~
As much as the King wanted to marry her, he needed time to grieve, and (Y/n) to sort her affairs. So, seven moons later he proposed marriage, she accepted and four moons later they were married.
Oh, how glorious. How glorious indeed.
They only waited so long so Bilbo could attend, which he did.
Also, (Y/n) had to wait for the finest craftsman to make her headpiece. A gorgeous tiara, instead of spikes, gorgeous yellow dandelions spaced apart, and dripping down from each an array of jewels resting against her forehead. When Kíli saw the tiara, he’d never smiled so wide, and his cheeks were already aching, his lips feelings as if they would tear.
It was a wonderful ceremony, and an even better lifetime they spent together.
Amongst other things on their wedding night, Kíli presented her with a gorgeous bead, yet to take out the one she gifted him the year prior, and the two of them braided each others hair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Guys, lowkey I have a great fanfic idea across the movies, about an abomination female character (half dwarf/half hobbit) and our favourite prince, lowkey little enemies vibes, etc. I don't know, though. Ah. I would have to post it on Ao3 too, of course. Though, I do not have an account.
Notes: My second fic in two days, I was scrolling through @imaginexhobbit's blog and found this one, along with a few others I’m working on currently! I am thinking about opening up requests again, what do you guys think? I hope you enjoy this one & as always, constructive criticism is appreciated! imagine
Warning(s): none, unless you count sweet tenderness :)
The company had finally found respite at Beorn’s house after the intense chase he gave them. The smell of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, and the soft crackle of the fire filled the silence as everyone settled into the cozy warmth of the great hall of Beorn’s cottage. Despite the faint tension of being in the home of a skin-changer (who had just scared you within an inch of your life), you felt a sense of safety you hadn’t experienced in weeks.
You found your spot near Fili, who had taken a place beside one of the low tables. His golden hair glinted in the firelight, his usually mischievous face now softened by exhaustion. You didn’t intend to end up so close to him—it just happened as the company sprawled out in various spots, vying for comfort. Your blanket, much too thin to ward off the night’s chill, left you shivering as you tried to find a comfortable position.
Fili noticed. “Cold?” he asked softly, his voice just above a whisper. His blue eyes flickered toward you, filled with quiet concern.
You hesitated, unwilling to admit it outright, but the tremble in your frame betrayed you. He didn’t press further. Instead, he shifted slightly, drawing the edge of his own blanket toward you.
“Here. Won’t do much, but better than nothing,” he murmured, his tone gentle.
Grateful, you nodded and tried to share the blanket without getting too close. The fire’s glow was soothing, and the low hum of Thorin and Balin’s quiet conversation filled the room, lulling you into drowsiness. Before you realized it, you began to lean slightly toward Fili, your exhaustion overriding your usual awareness.
Then it happened. Your arm brushed against his, the unexpected touch startling you awake. You tensed, pulling back slightly in embarrassment. “Sorry,” you whispered quickly, looking down at your hands.
Fili didn’t reply right away. For a moment, you thought he might have fallen asleep once more, but then you felt the weight of his arm hesitating above your shoulders. His breath hitched—uncertain, perhaps—but then his hand settled gently against your arm. The hesitation melted away as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry about it,” Fili said quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. He pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around you with surprising care. His warmth was immediate, chasing away the chill that had seeped into your bones.
You stiffened at first, not expecting the sudden closeness, but the steady rise and fall of his chest and the calmness in his presence made it hard to resist relaxing. You let out a soft sigh, leaning into him as your head rested lightly against his shoulder. Fili shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket to make sure you were both covered.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The company’s soft snores and the distant howl of the wind outside were the only sounds in the room. Fili’s thumb brushed absentmindedly against your arm, a soothing motion that made your eyelids grow heavier.
“This isn’t so bad,” he said after a while, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’d say you’ve got the better end of the deal. I’m a fine dwarven heater.”
You smile faintly, eyes still closed. “I think I’ll take full advantage of that, then.”
His soft chuckle vibrated against you, and you felt his grip tighten just a fraction. “You’re welcome to,” he replied, his tone softer now, his earlier playfulness giving way to something gentler.
Wrapped in his warmth and the rare peace of the moment, you allowed yourself to drift off, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and his arm holding you close. For the first time in weeks, you felt completely safe.
Imagine: Imagine you're working in the kitchens of Erebor Castle. One of the princes falls in love with you.
[A/N] : Don't hesitate to use this idea in your story. The photos / gifs do not belong to me. I do not claim any copyright to them and do not own any. 📷 [ GIF: GONCA / PRINCES UNK ]
[ ( ´ ꒳ ` ) ♡ ] After the restoration of Erebor, the mountain breathed again with firelight, hammer-song, and the glow of molten gold beneath its endless stone halls. The great kitchens of the kingdom never truly slept. Before dawn, ovens already roared with heat, copper pots simmered over open flames, and the scent of fresh bread drifted through the corridors like a promise of warmth against the cold mountain winter. You were only one servant among many — flour dust forever clinging to your sleeves, hands rough from kneading dough and hauling heavy cauldrons across the endless kitchens carved deep into the rock. Your days began in darkness, long before the court awoke, preparing meals for miners, guards, smiths, and nobles alike. Few in Erebor noticed the kitchen staff. Fewer still remembered their names.
But the mountain remembered lonely hearts.
One winter evening, while carrying a basket of still-warm loaves to the upper halls, you crossed paths with a prince of Erebor — either Fili, golden-haired and proud as the sun on polished armor, or Kili, sharp-eyed and reckless, with laughter that echoed warmly through cold stone corridors.
At first, it was nothing more than passing glances.
A teasing remark about burnt crusts.
A prince lingering too long beside the kitchens under the excuse of stealing fresh bread.
A servant pretending not to notice.
Yet he returned again and again.
Soon, the kitchens became your hidden sanctuary. Long after midnight, when the court slept and only the low crackle of the ovens remained, he would slip through the heavy doors smelling of leather, smoke, iron, and winter air from the training grounds. Sitting together beside the great stone hearths, you shared stolen cups of mulled wine while dough rose quietly nearby and embers painted the walls gold. You told him stories no noble would ever hear — gossip from the servants’ halls, old recipes passed down through generations, the exhaustion of feeding an entire mountain kingdom. In return, he spoke of royal burdens, of expectations carved heavier than stone, of fears hidden beneath princely smiles and polished armor.
And somewhere between warm bread, flour-covered hands, and whispered conversations beneath the glow of the ovens, something dangerous began to grow. Because a prince of Erebor should never fall in love with a kitchen servant.
And inside a royal mountain built on tradition, gold, and pride — love could become as perilous as dragon fire.
(The Hobbit) Imagine: Him Teaching you How to Fight
(Imagine: Him Teaching you How to Fight + His Reaction When you Best Him in a Match) Featuring: Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bilbo
Word Count: 1,138
Warnings: Fluff, Training
Thorin:
As the leader of the company, the responsibility of training you did not fall to Thorin. Instead, it started out with Dwalin teaching you. Your progress was slow at first, but you absorbed Dwalin’s instruction and applied it well. Thorin would watch your evening training sessions from the campfire. With so many things on his mind, it gave him a sort of calm to focus on something else. As his fondness for you grew, so would his concern, though he would not let anyone know that. He finds himself suddenly wanting to be involved, wanting to take part in preparing you for whatever threats lay ahead. So, one evening, he feigns irritation at your progress and rises to give you instruction. He hopes that his hard tone will disguise the fact that he wants to be involved as he draws his sword and begins a lesson of his own. Dwalin sees past it all, but says nothing out of respect for his leader as he steps aside and watches a little smugly.
After many lessons, you are rather confident in your ability. You’d been up against Fili and Kili in a few playful spars, and they commented on how well you’re doing. Thorin decided to put what you’ve learned to the test. He drew his sword and challenged you to a match. At this point, the entire Company had turned to watch it unfold. Thorin swung first, and you swiftly defended, knocking his blade away and retaliating. It was quite the dance between the two of you, by the light of a campfire, with your closest friends exclaiming whenever either of you locked blades.
It finally ended with you victorious. Thorin was backed against a tree with your blade aimed at his chin. Thinking he’d be angry, or at least, irritated, you quickly pulled away. But to your surprise, he only gave one of his rare smiles.
“You are ready.”
Fili:
He began by giving your pointers and instruction, and that turned into full-blown training sessions. You’d been taught only a little self-defense in your youth, and you had not put it to use yet. He found himself drawn to you and feeling quite protective. The last thing he wanted was for you to be unprepared for the next fight. The best way he could protect you was to teach you how to properly defend yourself in case you’d ever need to. He was gentle and took it easy on you early on. He couldn’t help it. It was hard for him to be strict with you, but even so, you were very motivated in your lessons. Sometimes, he would enlist one of the others to step in and give you a test spar. As your skills grew, Fili upped your training until he didn’t have to take it easy on you anymore.
The time came for Fili to test you once more. You readied yourself, and he made the first strike. You brought your blade up to meet his with a clang of metal against metal. He gave you an impressed look with his brow raised, and you had to keep from smiling before swinging your own weapon. You could tell he was still holding back, as he tended to do, so you tried to kick things up a notch by striking dangerously close to him. He got the message. The match became more heated, but you were up for the challenge.
You weren’t sure how, but it resulted in Fili’s sword being knocked from his hand, which left him standing there with yours pointed at him. His eyes were at first wide with surprise, and then his expression melted into an impressed smirk.
“Very nice.”
Kili:
He volunteered to teach you right off the bat. There was no playing it cool or feigning indifference. Kili was unashamed in his efforts to not only spend more time with you, but to help you to protect yourself should the occasion arise on the perilous journey. Though he does take the endeavor seriously, he cannot help but throw in a flirt here and there during training. He’ll say you have good form with a wink and insist on testing you periodically with a spar. But never fear, he is quite patient and seems to have mastered the ability of challenging you without pushing you beyond your limits.
After many duels and spars, the day comes when you finally best him. Some members of the Company are seated nearby, having taken an interest in your progress. After a training session, Kili challenges you to one of his tests; a hand-to-hand sparring match. You block nearly every strike, moving swiftly and with ease. He gets you in a hold, but you counter by knocking him off balance with your hip and throwing him over your shoulder. The others gasp in surprise and break out in applause while Kili stands to his feet with a grin.
“Good form.”
Bilbo
He is not much of a fighter, especially early on in the journey. In fact, he is still under the tutelage of other members of the Company himself. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to see you confident in your ability to protect yourself. It would be mutually beneficial, he decides, for the two of you to train together. You could help him, and he could help you. He takes on less of an instructing role, and more of a supportive role as a fellow learner. Bilbo is patient, focused, and a most honorable opponent. He’s almost a bit too polite, some of your fellow Company members argue. Too much of a gentleman. They argue that you won’t grow and improve if he’s holding back on account of you not being ready yet or not wanting to counter in case you weren’t prepared for it. More often, you will need another to spar with. But when it comes to simple training exercises where he can be used as a training dummy for you to learn new moves, he is very willing.
It does not come as a surprise when you best him the first few times in a sword duel. Bilbo is most certainly holding back. He’s too timid to counter. But then one day he finally is convinced by the others that he’ll be of more help to you if he doesn’t hold back: you will reach your full potential when faced with a challenge. That day, you are taken by surprise when he has a bit more fire to him during a session. Even so, you don’t recoil. You respond with similar determination, and the session ends with you victoriously having disarmed him and with a blade pointed toward him. The others gasp and clap, entertained by the duel and impressed to see how much the two of you improved.
Pair: Thorin Oakenshield x Healer!Reader (a pretty short human one too lol)
A/N: The fight for Erebor is finally over! The war has been won! However as the mountain and the town of Dale begin to thrive once more, our couple are more apart than ever before, and Thorin is keen for answers. Will they allow themselves the joy of not only peace, but love?
Genre: Bouts of angst, but also lots and lots of fluff that we’ve ALL been waiting for (including me), and some good ol’ smut!
Warning: brief mentions of abuse/torture, smut (not heavy smut but still a warning just in case) animal death (one hunting scene nothing too details or gorey but just in case)
PREVIOUS (The Light Within)
Six months had passed since what was now called the Battle of the Five Armies, inked into the fresh pages of books, told by spokespeople in Dale and within the halls of Erebor. As the dwarves began to return to their mountain and build anew, celebrations began, the ale flowed and rich foods ladled over rows and rows of tables with joyful music ringing through the grand halls of the mountain.
And yet all the while, Thorin, the King to the throne of Erebor, dressed in the finest of furs and sat with food barely touched, could not find it in his heart to celebrate. Not when the woman he longed for was no longer by his side.
The days that followed the end of the war were a blur of pain. He vaguely remembered Kili calling your name from afar.
It was only after he had substantially recovered that he was informed by his youngest nephew of what had occurred between Y/N and the dwarf who had guarded his door. He did not resist dealing the appropriate punishment to them.
With Oin being firm in stressing his need for rest and proper recovery, Thorin had sent members of the company, either alone or in pairs, to look in search of her, to bring her back to him. All returning with no such luck.
And though the duties of being King rested heavily on his shoulders more than ever before, his thoughts often still drifted to her. Her wonderful laugh that had his heart soaring, her glowing smile that had long ago captured his heart, her kindness, her bravery. Her stubbornness matched his own. How all he wished was to up and leave to find her, and somehow encourage her to return to his side—
'Thorin?'
He turned towards Balin who sat on his right, his face drawn in concern.
'Are you all right laddie? You've barely eaten anything tonight and been quiet.'
'Have a lot on my mind is all Balin. Nothing to worry about,' Thorin said with a forced smile, taking a long sip from his ale.
'You'd think with the war over you wouldn't have too much on your mind.' Dwalin piped up from next to his brother, stabbing into the meat on his plate.
'Unlike you Dwalin I have a kingdom to take care of. My mind will never settle.' Balin quickly spoke up. 'Be that as it may, you should take the time to celebrate your victories my King. After all you have fought for you deserve this more than anyone else.'
Seeing Dwalin had turned to other conversation, Thorin muttered quietly, 'I cannot celebrate when I have not undone all my wrongdoings... I cannot celebrate with who I truly wish for most.'
Balin halts mid-mouthful, quickly putting down his cutlery. 'Thorin we have looked high and low for that lass and sent the best trackers after her. If she wished to be found we would have found her by now.'
The King slammed his fist down onto the table angrily. 'It's not good enough!'
There was a dreadfully long pause between them, thankfully no attention drawn away from the merriment as the crowd continued to drink, laugh and dance.
He sighed heavily, turning back to his advisor. 'I'm sorry Balin, I did not mean that.'
'It's quite all right laddie. All I wish to say is that maybe we let her have her peace. It's the very least she deserves.'
Without another word, Balin turned back to his plate, continuing to eat quietly. Thorin sighs heavily, nails digging into the wood of the table. His thoughts wandered once more to Y/N, and then it struck him.
He shot to his feet, shocking those around him as he left the table without a word, ignoring those who called out after him as he left the Great Hall.
Making his way to where the ravens roosted, he knew there was one person whom he could summon for assistance.
Gandalf trudged through the grand marble halls of Erebor, led by Dwalin and Kili through the mountain city. He had received an urgent letter by raven requesting his presence with the King
'Do you have any clue of why I was summoned?' The wizard addressed Kili who shook his head. 'No Gandalf! It was a surprise to see you at the gate! I'm guessing that it's business to only do with Uncle.'
'Which is what I'm afraid of ...' He grumbled quietly to himself.
After moving through multiple winding corridors and staircases, he was led into a small but lavish study. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with books, an oak carved table and matching chairs fitted with red velvet cushions sat in the middle of the room while a roaring fireplace warmed the room.
Just as the elderly wizard made himself comfortable at the table, the large doors opened revealing King Thorin.
'Gandalf, I apologise if I've kept you waiting,' The King called out, shutting the doors behind him before entering the room.
'Not at all Thorin! Or should I say your Majesty?' Gandalf jested to which Thorin chuckled.
'That is not needed here between us Gandalf,' he said as he sat himself down at the other end of the table, 'I know my request for your visit was sudden, and I'm aware that I've already asked plenty from you during our travels. But I needed to attend to a matter of urgency that I believed required your expert hand.'
'Oh? And what might that be?'
Thorin sighed. 'I need your assistance in finding Y/N.'
Gandalf's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. 'Oh? Is that so?'
'Don't play coy with me Gandalf. I've been told that you were seen taking her away from Erebor while I was injured. I've been searching and searching, and I haven't found her. All I want ... All I want is to see her again.'
Gandalf took a moment to take in Thorin's appearance. Though he carried himself with confidence, he could see the pain in the King's eyes, the longing. Dark shadows creased beneath his eyes, jaw tight and locked.
'You must understand something Thorin. Y/N has survived through what one could only describe as the depths of hell, and very lucky to have returned. There isn't a day that goes by that she fights to keep the peace she has built for herself. A peace that she lost long ago, and I'm not talking about a place to call home,' Gandalf places his fingertips to his temple. 'But here, and when she feels endangered, she will linger no longer than she needs to.'
At his words, Thorin couldn't help but think back to their journey together. The way she flinched at loud noises, when her grip would tighten on her sword when overwhelmed, how at peace she was in silence when they all had sat upon the boat to Lake Town. His eyes flickered back to Gandalf as he continued.
'If she wishes to remain alone, I ask not only as your friend but also as her Guardian, that you leave her be.'
Immediately the King felt anger swell within him, the impending roar to command his authority. But as the thought of Y/N swept over his mind, the anger dulled, instead understanding overwhelmed him.
For so long he had only wished for peace away from the kingdoms, away from responsibility. He knew what that longing was like. It was the feeling he felt when he saw her among the company. Her gentle yet fierce nature, a beacon of hope so bright within the darkness that seeped into all of their lives. If anything it would kill him to take that feeling away from her.
Thorin stood to his feet and found himself in front of Gandalf, kneeling (as best he could with his newfound injuries) before him. 'As King, I swear to you.'
The old wizard chuckled, resting his hand on Thorin's shoulder with a firm squeeze, 'Come now my friend, there is no need for all this. We must make our move swiftly and without further hesitation.'
The sun shone down through the thick forests to the West of Erebor, the rustling of leaves moving in the wind, the echo of a stream rolling over rocks nearby, the singing of birds and deers grazing across the hills of rolling green.
All the while, Y/N made sure each step she took was as quiet as possible, avoiding any fallen logs or sticks before hunching down.
The stag she had been tracking for quite some time had come to a halt, grazing at the tall grass.
Pushing the single braided parting behind her ear, she quietly grabbed an arrow from the sheath that hung from her shoulder and pulled it taut in the bow that had hung at her side. And with careful, even perfect precision, as the stag raised its head, she let the arrow fly and hit the stag which immediately fell, twitching before going still.
With a sigh of relief and a smile of victory, she rushed over, first making sure that the animal was no longer suffering before pulling the arrow free from its side. Wrapping the animal up carefully, she shrugged it over the back of her horse, Shadow, a black stallion that she had tied to a tree not too far away. Making sure the animal was secure, Y/N took Shadow by the reigns and led him back onto the forest path.
Soon she found herself in familiar sights, turning off onto a small path leading to a small stone cottage by the lakeside surrounded by blooming white daisies. A vegetable patch had been put together at the front, the first signs of growing carrots peaking from beneath the earth, bright strawberries and raspberries sprouting from bushes to Y/N's delight, growing plentifully in the new season.
This was her new home.
She pulled her horse into the small stable which she had recently finished constructing. After removing the saddle and gear she gave Shadow a quick brush down.
'Thank you girlie, you did well today,' She whispered, giving it one last pat before filling up the horse's bucket with some of the freshly picked carrots from earlier that day. She couldn't help but smile as the horse's head disappeared into the bucket immediately, devouring its treat.
With a huff, she picked up the stag and began to carry it to the front of the cottage, only coming to a quick halt at the sight of the door standing ajar. She most definitely locked it before leaving on her hunt.
Immediately she dropped the stag to the ground, pulling her sword from her hip before pushing forward, kicking the door open. With a quick scan of the room, she found nothing amiss, nothing moved - nothing astray.
'My girl put that away!'
She couldn't help the scream that left her, turning to find Gandalf sitting in the armchair by the fireplace which had only moments ago been empty.
'Gandalf! How many times have I told you to inform me of your arrival! You always have some way of frightening me,' She screeched, angrily putting her sword back in its sheath.
'And where is the fun in that Y/N?' The elder chuckled as she brought the stag into the house, placing it in a corner of the room where she butchered her hunt.
Y/N rolled her eyes, unable to help chuckling, moving towards the kitchens putting a kettle on the stove. 'What brings you here Gandalf? Your letters made me think I wouldn't see you for a while!'
She heard him sigh heavily, hearing the creak of the chair as he stood to his feet, 'Well I've travelled quite the ways to see you. From Erebor.'
'Oh?' Y/N said, keeping her back to the wizard, hiding her shock. 'Royal business I'm assuming.'
'Yes, actually having to do with you my dear.'
'With me? What do you mean ––'
The crash of pots broke the heavy silence that followed, having slipped from Y/N's hand. She had turned back to face the wizard, only to see the one dwarf she had hoped not to see again standing behind him. Dressed in his old travelling clothes, familiar from their journey shared together, his hair down and rippling over his shoulders.
Y/N huffed. 'Gandalf ––'
'My dear ––'
'You promised!' She gasped, stepping back into the counter, gripping and digger her nails into it. 'You promised me you would never let him know.'
'I know,' Gandalf said as he stepped up to her, pulling her hands away from the counter into his own, feeling them shake within his hold. 'And I'm sorry. But you know as well as I that you will regret letting him go if you don't at least give him a chance.'
Before the fear over took her he gently placed kiss to her forehead, whispering, 'Be brave, little one, and use the second chance you were blessed with.'
Y/N looked up at Gandalf as he gave her one last smile before leaving her side. After grabbing his staff and hat, he gave Thorin a nod before closing the cottage door behind him.
The silence that ensued was deafening, almost choking the air within the cottage. Y/N's eyes looked everywhere but at Thorin, trying to calm herself.
But Thorin's gaze had never moved from her. It had been so long since he had seen her. The way the sun fell through the window behind her made her shine like a star, and he couldn't help but be mesmerised by her beauty.
'A lovely home you've built Y/N, and all by yourself?'
She glanced towards him, nodding silently, muttering to himself, 'Beautiful.'
As he looked around the room, Y/N took the chance to take him in. She noticed the healed scarring on his face from the war, as well as the cane that he kept at his side putting his weight against it. It seemed he carried more than mere scars from the battle against Azog.
With a sigh, she turned to him, 'Thorin ––'
'If I may speak,' He cut across her quickly. Only when she nodded he moved slowly to her side. 'I understand you ran from Erebor after an incident occurred during my injury.'
'Thorin ––'
'Please Y/N.'
She squeezed her eyes shut, falling silent once more.
'I know why you left. You sought out the one person you knew who would bring you safety and that was yourself. The person you've had to rely on for so many years. I wasn't present in that moment to contend with your fears ... I wish to be someone you could confine in and trust.'
He reached carefully towards her, and when she didn't flinch, he gently caressed her hand. Staring down at this, unable to resist Y/N intertwined their hands together. When she looked up she found Thorin staring past her eyes, his other hand now running across the braid that hid behind her ear still held together by a very familiar bead. His branded bead.
'You still wear it ...'
She smiled. 'Why wouldn't I? Just because I left doesn't mean my heart changed.'
The next few hours flew by. Thorin had helped Y/N skin and prep the stag which she made into a rich stew filled with vegetables from her garden and along with freshly toasted golden bread pulled from the oven. They barely spoke throughout but worked with few words exchanged.
It was after the meal had been devoured, the red wine that Thorin had brought along in his pack was poured and they sat warming by the fireplace that Y/N spoke.
'I know Gandalf already told you most of the story, about my family and all that. I was captured by the orcs and kept under their watch. They enjoyed having a human prisoner for entertainment in their encampment,' She muttered as she fiddled with the dents in her cup. 'But when the fear faded the numbness seeped in and then the anger followed. All I could think about was my family, each of them struck down and for what? Bloodlust? Such a waste ...'
She lost herself in the flames that climbed across the logs within the fireplace, tears brimming in her eyes. Thorin sighed heavily before placing his hand gently upon hers. Y/N gasped softly at his touch, pulling herself from her thoughts. She squeezed his hand firmly in return.
'Their faces were ingrained in my mind every day through every lashing, every beating, and every shaming. It fuelled me to do more … to observe, listen and eventually scrape my way to make an escape.'
As silence ensued, Thorin took her in carefully. Her eyes became glazed, lost in the depths of her mind, her memories a prison of pain and destruction. He knew that spiral all too well.
'I lost my younger brother Frerin during the great war against the orcs and Azog. Happened to be the last of the battles that occurred,' He uttered.
Y/N's head shot up in shock. He smiled sadly.
'He had rushed Azog alongside my father. In the tussle, he and his men got separated and pushed back into the woods that circled Moria. It was days later that I found him by the edge of Mirrormere Lake,' His expression became grim, grip tightening around her hand briefly, 'He was face down, eyes gouged, choked on his own blood. I'll never forget the way the blood soaked the earth and stained the waters, the stench of death was .... inescapable. With the weight of my father and brother's death, I was forced to pick up the pieces of my family and people when all I wanted was to kill. To lose myself to darkness and never turn back.'
Thorin's gaze flickered towards the flames within the fireplace. 'I built a wall of stone around my heart because I found that with love comes the greatest price of all. One day we'll lose it, no matter how hard we try we will lose it in some way. That all changed ...'
Y/N's head tilted with curiosity, 'What changed?'
Thorin turned back to her, gulping heavily. 'You came along.'
Y/N couldn't help the gasp that left her lips. He abandoned his cup on the side table to turn his body towards hers, still grasping her hand in his own tightly. 'I know that this scares you Amrâlimê, and to be truthful, I also am frightful. But I just want you to know that not a day goes by where I don't love you and never will stop.'
His words went straight to the pit of her stomach, heat spreading throughout her body like the bowels of a cauldron. Thorin's hand remained in hers, but there was an urgency in the way his fingers tightened around her. Though his eyes have a certain gentleness, there is also something else. A simmering hunger filled with a deep intensity, and before she could say another word, she pushed her lips to his.
Thorin growled against her mouth like a hungry animal satiated yet tempted for more, returning the kiss fiercely and pulling Y/N in close by her hips. Without hesitation, she sat in his lap wrapping her arms around his neck, running her fingertips through his hair.
Clothes are hurriedly stripped away, and when Thorin tosses her tunic aside, he notices the scars that littered Y/N's body, some areas of skin puckered red from the wounds that still healed.
When she noticed his gaze hovering around her body, she couldn't help bringing her arms up to cover herself but he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.
'No don't. You’re a sight to behold, you are ... ethereal,' He muttered, bringing her to stand between his legs, pressing a kiss to her sternum, hands running gently down her back and hips, coming up to caress her breasts. A stuttered gasp left Y/N, head falling back as he pressed kisses upon her breasts, the feeling of his rough hands sending sparks across her body.
'Oh Thorin,' She breathed, tugging him to his feet before kissing him firmly. His kisses changed, heated, firm and responding with equal fervor. His hands moved below his thighs, lifting her with quick ease before laying her down on the furs before the fireplace.
However, she was quick to roll him onto his back, unable to stop the laugh that escaped her at the brief shock on his face. Thorin was quick to rise and capture her lips once more, smiling against them.
Y/N reached down gripping his cock before sinking down onto him slowly. Both of them gasped against each other's mouths at the sensation, Thorin wrapping his arms around to bring you close, chest to chest, nothing more left between them.
They move together in the throes of passion, hips slapping against one another, sweaty, warm skin, his hands squeezing her hips. She allowed herself to fall against him, forehead pressed to his shoulder as she shuddered in pleasure.
Through the haze, Thorin raised his hips, fucking her deeper, her moans louder before he silenced her with a firm kiss. It's almost too soon that he finds himself strung tight, close to the edge.
She arches against him, chasing the rising tide within her. 'Don’t stop,' she pants, her voice a shaky breathless plea.
Y/N leant forward, hands pressed to his chest, nails digging into his skin as she swiveled her hips harder, Thorin grabbing a handful of your ass. She cries out, eyes rolling back as she collapses against him shakily. He follows quickly behind, burying his cock deep inside her.
In that moment the world faded away, and it was just the two of them. The sounds of heavy breathing and the hiss of fire upon wood filled the air. The broad daylight pouring through the windows had dimmed with the setting of the sun, leaving the room with a peach glow.
Thorin ran his hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. He kissed her cheek, then down her neck, to her shoulder. She trembled against him, her hands wrapped around his shoulders.
Lifting her face, she met Thorin's gaze to find him already watching her, pressing his forehead against hers.
'Amrâlimê, my dearest, my fierce heart,' He said between kisses which he placed along her face, lifting her chin gently to kiss Y/N's lips gently. 'Mine'
Y/N smiled against the corner of his lips, pressing another firm kiss to his lips. 'Yours.'
FINAL CHAPTER (At Last)
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