(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.
An unspecified reader who is very burnt out and their pesky dwarrow friend who refuses to let them suffer alone.
For @sunstainedpages
A branch breaks on the slope behind you. Breaking your spell.
“Oh no.” You groan.
“Oh. Yes.” Fíli greets sliding down the embankment. Small stones scattering into lush spring undergrowth. A sapling bends and snaps beneath his hand as he grasps for balance. A grimace covering his features at the loss of a new tree, but just as quickly he tosses it back to rest among the debris.
Settling in beside you beneath the bushes. Knees bumping up against yours, his bright eyes peer at the very stump you had centered your attention on. “So…. This is nice?” He begins gradually. Resting his arms upon his knees.
You answer him with a weary sigh. This was the last thing you wanted. Someone finding you and bothering you when you were raw and at your worst. Fíli finding you was the cherry on top.
Your gaze returns to the mossy stump. Tightening your hold on your legs another sigh escapes. Bird song fills the silence. Sunbeams filter through the canopy high above with fading elegance. You're losing yourself in the fine dance of foliage and song when Fíli speaks up again.
“I've noticed you haven't been yourself lately.” He starts, soft voice pulling you back from reentering your trance. Gently his shoulder jostles yours. “After that visit from your family you seemed to be receding into your shell. Now you are hiding more and more.”
As he lists further his voice turns into a disjointed drone as you haze out of reality. Guilt begins churning. “That is true.” You mutter feeling the weight in your chest growing. Had you let him down too? You had thought you had numbed this out. But it was still there.
Why couldn't you manage things like everyone else? Why couldn't life just give you a break? Just a few days to be by yourself and be less raw. Instead everything was grating on you like an open wound. Every additional task a grain of salt upon bleeding skin. Your heart was exposed between ribs pried open and you had grown exhausted shielding its fragile beating form from the world.
To his credit and perhaps a sign of his wisdom he doesn't say anything more on the matter. Squeezing your legs tighter to your chest you allow your forehead to rest atop them with an audible THUMP.
Inhaling a ragged breath you squeeze again. “I'm tired, Fí.” Beginning at the very root of it all. Reaching down beneath the layers of topsoil to the problem sown into the ground months ago. When you began taking on task after task. Trying to prove yourself as worthy to everyone- and completely forgetting about valuing and validating yourself.
Deep down you knew you didn't have to prove yourself. But you wanted to be accepted. Wanted to be an equal to all the amazing people around you. But each time you put out more and more effort it felt like you fell short. Flat on the ground despite giving it everything. Yet each time you'd dust yourself off. Taking on another with the single minded goal of proving you were worth your weight.
“I know I worked too hard and I'm just-” another sigh rattles your open ribs. Scrubbing your hands over your face you huff, frustration building at your own inadequacies. “I'm sorry. I really do need to be alone.” Before you did something embarrassing: like cry.
“Or you need to be with a friend who cares about you and wants to help.” Fíli replies without hesitation. “The best thing to do when you're hurt is to not be hurt alone. Even if its hard to be around people when you don't feel your best, we still need each other. Don't we?”
That was true. However, you really didn't want to show how vulnerable you were right now. A fragile cage of bone was all that was left of you. “But I'm just so tired of talking and being with people!”
“Then do not talk. Sit here with me and let's enjoy the birds. I gather they can speak enough for both of us, can't they?”
His arms encircle your shoulders, guiding you into the shelter of his arms. Pressing his face against your hair. His voice is soft and low. “You've been burning yourself down like a candle. I've seen it. But it has become too heavy of a burden, hasn't it?” Fíli reflects his hand rubbing along your back.
You nod into him. Eyes squeezing shut fighting back tears. Fílis pipeweed overflows from his coat, but beneath that was his natural soothing smell. One that entwined floral and smoke. A scent that soothes your nerves. Overriding your feelings of insecurity.
He was a cloud of safety. In his tightening hug you could bury yourself for even a few minutes. The harsh words from your family fading into the sound of your breath against her coat. An echo of your heartbeat fills your ears.
“You're doing your best and that is enough. I know you do not believe it is true. But I will be here to remind you.” He continues his hand rubbing back and forth along your back. The other rubbing over your hair. “We are all so happy you are here, being yourself, just as you are.”
Squeezing tighter to Fíli you channel all your energy into holding him just as tightly as he held you. Time passes evident by the rustling of wind and changes in bird song. Without fail he held you tightly. Nothing broke his hold or his concentration upon tending to you. When you finally pull away, he releases you. Only returning to wipe your tears upon the back of his glove. “See? A friend can fix most things, and the things we can't fix we can help you through.”
Through a weak smile you nod. “Thanks Fíli. You know already, but I am here for you too.”
Shaking his head with a smile, he wags his finger at you chidingly. “How about we focus on you right now, hm?” His arm slung around your shoulders gives you a light squeeze. “Then we can worry about other people. Now, will you be returning with me or staying here for a moment longer?”
Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and drunkenness, denial-based bet, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), slight somnophilia, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie.
Previous | Next | Masterlist
---
Several days after you had made your bet with Thranduil, he came to visit you at the Ripple.
Ostensibly, he was there to deliver your regular shipment of elven wine. You had slowed or stopped most of your other deliveries since you intended to relocate so soon, but Thranduil’s wine sold so quickly that you would likely run out by the time you left.
The Elvenking wasn’t a rare sight in the Ripple, but he always managed to draw attention. His appearance and manner and the sheer weight of his personality made certain of that. That day in particular, he was dressed in a tunic embroidered with a shade of silver that only emphasized the shine of his hair and the way his eyes danced beneath his dark brows. His trousers were dyed dark, but you could still see their texture and knew that they would be velvety if you stroked them.
Thranduil was showing off for you, doing his best to remind you of what you would give up if you moved to Dale. How losing access to his body - admittedly delectable as it was - was meant to compare to earning a living with your tavern, you weren’t quite sure. No one was that attractive, not even the famously beautiful King of the Greenwood.
Instead of showing him the reaction he so clearly craved, you greeted Thranduil with a simple nod and invitation to sit while you brought him a drink. The flash of disappointment you saw at your mild reception lent your smile more credibility.
When you brought him his typical tankard of wine, Thranduil held up a hand, signaling for you to stop as he shook his head.
You paused, frowning. “What is it?”
“I find myself wanting something different this evening,” he told you.
“You always order wine,” you reminded him unnecessarily. “Have you finally realized that paying to drink the wine you provide us is madness and a waste of funds besides?”
“I believe I will have a honey mead instead,” Thranduil decided, pointedly ignoring your dig at his sanity. His eyes were fixed on yours as he explained, “I have craved tasting your sweetness of late. It has been an eternity since I last had the opportunity to do so.”
Your face grew hot… along with other things, but you were doing your best to ignore that. Instead, you set the tankard down on a nearby table where several patrons had opted for the wine.
As you had never ordered anything other than tankards for cups, the wine took up a little less than half of the space inside. That was fortunate, as you likely would have spilled anything more when you slammed the cup down on the table.
The patrons stared up at you, shocked at your outburst of temper. You forced a smile. “Here’s a refill, courtesy of King Thranduil.”
The patrons drunkenly toasted the Elvenking as you retreated behind the bar to fill a fresh tankard with honey mead. By the time the pale amber liquid had crept up to the brim of the tankard, your shoulders had eased away from your ears.
Thranduil was trying to rattle you. You simply were not going to allow him the satisfaction of succeeding.
You took a full breath and let it out slowly as you walked back to his chosen table. When you moved to set his beverage down on the table, Thranduil intercepted the action. He took the tankard from you directly, his fingers stroking the back of your hand as he did so.
While you glared, he took a sip of the mead. The movement of his lips forced you to picture the way it rolled over his tongue and warmed his throat. When he let out a pleased hum, Thranduil smiled - a devious little smirk that heated your blood with simultaneous irritation and desire.
“It is magnificent as always,” he complimented with a tilt of his head. “There is something else I desire more, but this poor substitute shall suffice… for now.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away before he could see the way his words somehow managed to breach the layers of calm and mild condescension you had donned before approaching him once more.
While you worked alongside Storr and several other employees, taking care of the Ripple’s patrons and ensuring the night went smoothly, you were formulating a plan. A plot, really, but you couldn’t let anyone else know that. The element of surprise would be a vital key to your success.
You brought an extra honey mead for Thranduil, doing your best to ignore the way his gaze traveled heavily across your body - though you did shiver when he trailed his fingertips down your forearm as you retrieved his empty tankard.
Instead, you leaned in close so you could speak lowly. “Can you send a boat for me tomorrow afternoon? I have some business I wish to speak with you about.”
Thranduil frowned deeply, but nodded. “I will do exactly that. Will you not be here tomorrow?”
“I’m taking a day off,” you explained. “Storr is capable of running the tavern.”
With a thoughtful furrow between his brows, the Elvenking nodded and you retreated behind the bar once more, biting back a smile. Thranduil continued to look interested and slightly concerned as he finished his honey mead and prepared to leave.
Just as he stood, one of the women at the next table leaned over with a giggle, showing off her cleavage to best advantage as she gave a little wave as if to catch his attention. “You are incredibly handsome.”
Thranduil glanced down at her with cool disinterest. “I am well aware.”
She giggled again, the rest of the table joining her. In a voice that slurred slightly, she said, “D’you want to come back to my place for the night? I’d show you a great time.”
It was an incredibly forward invitation. If this was any place other than Lake-Town, she would have been publicly shamed for saying such a thing, even if neither of them went through with it. As it was, however, a village full of practical fishermen and haggard merchants had better ways to spend their time than policing such a ridiculous concept as ‘virtue’. Besides, after surviving Smaug’s second attack, no one begrudged anyone else the opportunity to take their pleasure where they found it. It was one of the things you admired about this place.
So why were you filled with such disgust and horror?
Instead of replying, Thranduil glanced over at you. There was no use pretending you hadn’t been watching the conversation unfold, so you simply arched an eyebrow at him. In the silence of a pair who understood each other perfectly, his expression reminded you that you would lose the ability to have a say in his bed partners if you did move to Dale.
The realization made your chest cold with dread even as your logical mind told you the reaction was silly. He was right - if you were no longer together, you lost any right to have an opinion about Thranduil’s partners.
“Did you hear me?” the woman pressed, squeezing her arms closer together to plump her breasts even further. “Do you want to come home with me?”
“Yes.”
The single word made your heart stutter in your chest. Yes, relocating to Dale would mean you lost the right to an opinion about Thranduil’s bedroom activities, but surely he didn’t intend to begin that before you had left Lake-Town?
The woman beamed, but Thranduil continued, “I did hear you. As to whether I am interested in sharing your bed tonight… no.”
He walked halfway across the room as the woman’s smile continued to fade. As the other patrons at the table consoled the recently-rejected flirt, Thranduil paused before the bar to glance at you. “I will see you tomorrow afternoon.”
You nodded, fighting a smile as he left. After a moment of thought, you poured another serving of wine as a conciliatory offering for the jilted patron.
---
The next afternoon found you approaching the entrance to the Woodland Realm. The elves were rowing swiftly, and you knew you would arrive at the gates within minutes. In the time remaining on your journey, you studied your surroundings with the familiarity of a near-expert eye.
The Greenwood was at last living up to its name. With the spiders gone - killed by elven hunting parties or chased further north by the combination of the elves and Smaug’s fire - the forest was recovering from the gloom and darkness that had given it the unflattering nickname ‘Mirkwood’. (Though you still tended to refer to it as such to irritate Thranduil.)
Still, enough light filtered down from the thick canopy to illuminate the clear waters of the river. Healthy creatures of all sorts roamed the riverbanks, unbothered by the near-silent rowers slipping through the water. You even spotted a few groups of elves outside the gates of the Woodland Kingdom, picnicking or playing music in the dappled sunlight near the edges of the water.
It was idyllic, and you were almost reluctant to step through the magnificent gates of Thranduil’s halls. But you had business to attend to, so you entered the halls regardless, following one of Thranduil’s aides with confident strides as he led you to the Elvenking’s throne room.
This was one of Thranduil’s most enduring quirks. No matter how he insisted that his people would not see you as lesser simply for sharing a casual relationship with him, each of your visits to the Woodland Realm had to start in his throne room. You were received with every courtesy, treated at least as well as a visiting dignitary would be.
Accordingly, when you entered the throne room, the elf who had escorted you bowed slightly as he stepped away. Thranduil watched you from his seat on the throne. He was wearing his royal finery - embroidered robes of the most delicate silk and the towering crown that marked him as the king.
Still, he inclined his head gracefully at you. “Welcome, honored visitor, to my kingdom.”
Your manners had improved significantly since the first time you had visited him. Instead of meeting his welcome with suspicion or derision, you swept into a curtsey. “Thank you for your hospitality, Elvenking Thranduil.”
“Guards, you are dismissed,” Thranduil decreed. The guards bowed to him, withdrawing from the chamber immediately. When you were alone in the chamber, Thranduil stood from his throne, concern clear on his face. “What is wrong?”
You gestured for him to sit back down as you approached the bottom of the throne. The stairs worn into the throne were something you had made note of during every previous visit, studying them in the relatively short span of time in which you were not watching the king seated at their top. Regardless of your familiarity with those steps, this was the first time you had ever dared to climb them.
They were as smooth as you had expected them to be, worn into a soft, shallow incline under the feet of Thranduil, and likely whichever kings had ruled the Woodland Realm before him. You had expected the need to concentrate on that smoothness, to be certain you would not lose your footing and topple down to the stone-and-earthen floor, but they supported you easily, each stair formed into a shape like a shallow bowl after eons of use.
Without the need to focus on climbing toward him, you were free to lift your eyes to Thranduil’s face and wondered if you might fall without assistance from the stairs. His face was frozen in expectant anticipation, watching your actions as closely as though you were some type of threat… though you doubted his eyes would be glowing with such fascination and longing if you held a weapon.
When you reached the top of the staircase and stood at the foot of Thranduil’s throne - pressed against his legs by necessity born of the lack of space - you allowed your fingers to toy idly with one arm of his throne.
It was with no small amount of amusement that you noticed Thranduil’s fingers unconsciously mimicking yours.
You spoke slowly, your tone deliberate. “I was surprised to see you at the Ripple yesterday, Thranduil.”
“I am not an uncommon sight there,” he reminded you, furrowing his brows slightly. “Why was my presence so surprising to you?”
“Maybe ‘surprised’ isn’t the correct term,” you allowed. “Preoccupied, perhaps? I found myself thinking about you more than usual yesterday evening.”
The remaining tension disappeared from Thranduil’s face and body, replaced with a deep-seated satisfaction. “Is that so? I cannot say I regret having ensured I found such a prominent place in your thoughts.”
You hummed, brushing the pads of your fingers closer and closer to where his own rested on the arm of the throne. “So you did it on purpose? The teasing?”
He smirked. “Perhaps.”
With a pout that was only slightly exaggerated for his benefit, you said, “It was very unkind of you, Elvenking. I believed our agreement forbade both of us from doing such a thing.”
Thranduil chuckled lowly. “We made no such rules, little one.”
You glanced down as if in thought, but the action was only to help disguise a smirk of your own. That had been the confirmation you needed, the last excuse to do what you had planned without feeling any guilt for it.
“In that case…” you trailed, using a conveniently placed carving to hoist yourself up and take a seat on his knee. Thranduil watched with amusement and you decided to make yourself even more at home, throwing your legs across his other thigh so you were seated comfortably across his lap.
His eyes were twinkling at you from such a close distance that you immediately felt the draw of him. It felt as though you were not deciding to move, you were simply ceasing to fight the need.
You planted a kiss against the underside of Thranduil’s jaw, in exactly the place you knew he loved. Another landed on his chin, in the place that creased into something like a dimple when he laughed his bright laugh. Finally, you let your lips meet his, and Thranduil was ready for you. He met your kiss with a fervor you didn’t often see from him, deepening it almost immediately as his hand gripped your jaw. That hand angled your head the proper way to allow him a measure of control, though you kept him on edge with the way your hands roamed his body.
Time slipped past and you had no method or desire to track its passage. Instead, you allowed yourself to enjoy the time spent with Thranduil. If you truly were to relocate to Dale, you would miss the easy access to him, but there were other things that were more important. Like your business, securing a livelihood, and finding your future away from a beautiful, near-immortal being.
When you felt Thranduil’s interest rising insistently against your leg, you broke the kiss and leaned back with a sly smile. The Elvenking watched you with a mixture of suspicion and interest on his face, though the latter won out when you stood and repositioned yourself until you could kneel before the throne.
When you began pushing away the folds of richly embroidered fabric to bare him, Thranduil’s hands stopped the work of your fingers. “What are you doing?”
You sent him a saucy smile. “I intend to show you just how thoroughly you have overtaken my thoughts since yesterday evening. In particular, I would like to demonstrate a specific manner in which I cannot stop thinking of you.”
He looked skeptical, so you pushed even harder. With a demure bow of your head that didn’t feel even remotely believable, you added, “If that would please you, Elvenking.”
Whether it was the title or the picture you made kneeling in front of your throne, your lover failed to produce a single word. And if Thranduil planned to say anything further, it died in his throat as you at last managed to push away enough layers to reach his skin. Instead, the potential words were overtaken by a hoarse groan as you smoothed your fingers over his hips.
You paused, glancing up at him as you waited for some kind of permission to continue - you would not force this on him. Thranduil sank further down in the throne, offering you a better angle at which to continue your exploration. That was all the permission you needed to continue without a guilty conscience.
His cock was already standing long and hard, jutting proudly upward. If Thranduil had not been slouching so dramatically, you were certain the length of him would have pressed against his stomach. The small patch of fine, pale hair at the base did nothing to hide any of him from your greedy eyes, though the curls did tickle the side of your palm as you skimmed your hand from his tip downward - not making contact, but close enough to feel the heat pouring from Thranduil’s skin.
When you lifted your hand to your mouth, licking a long, wet stripe from the heel of your palm to the very tip of your middle finger, Thranduil groaned, cock bobbing in anticipation. You didn’t make him wait long - not because you didn’t want to, but because you were feeling fairly impatient yourself.
The warmth of Thranduil’s length was nearly shocking against your skin as you wrapped your hand around him, though you couldn’t have been persuaded to release him even if he had scalded you. Especially not with the eager noise he tried to bite back and the way his hands shook in their effort to remain on the arms of his throne.
You started with a simple pattern of stroking and squeezing, adding a gentle twist of your loose fist when you reached the sensitivity of his tip. When that was no longer enough for either of you, you held him by the base and wrapped your lips over his head.
You did it slowly, as slowly as you could manage so that he could feel every scrap of pleasure as you engulfed him in the wet heat of your mouth. Thranduil made a strangled noise from somewhere over your head and it urged you to speed up, working your way down his length with a passion and fervor that surprised even you.
It all became a blur of sensation - the rhythm of your hand and mouth, the way Thranduil tried not to thrust up against you, the salt of his skin, and the sounds of your shared groans. His fingers were gently guiding your head, attempting to encourage without overwhelming you.
“I- I am close,” he grunted at last with a stunted half-thrust of his hips. “Have you conceded our bet, then?”
“No,” you denied, pulling your lips from him with a subtle pop. “Though you are more than welcome to. A few simple words and I will continue.”
Thranduil stared at you with dismayed disbelief. You had to admit that he made a striking figure, if a little unorthodox: the elegance of his crown and robes contrasted sharply with the vulnerability of his flushed face and splayed posture. And, of course, there was the raw primality of his hardness, glistening and visibly throbbing where it protruded from between the panels of his robes.
“And have you win so easily?” he asked sharply. “I will do no such thing.”
“Very well, you accepted with a mournful sigh and a last look of longing at his cock. “Then I suppose I should be on my way back home. If you would be so good as to call an escort?”
There was a pause as you climbed back down the stairs of his throne, and you half-wondered if he would leave you to row back to Lake-Town on your own.
At last, though, he barked a sharp, “Guards!”
The elven guards were back in the throne room in less than the time it took to blink. Before you could wonder - and subsequently be horrified at the idea of it - if they could hear your recent activities, Thranduil said, “Tell the rowers to escort our guest back to her home.”
One of them nodded and gestured for you to follow her. You glanced back at Thranduil, noting the uncomfortable way he was sitting, and smiled as you offered your best curtsy. “My thanks for the lovely hospitality, Elvenking.”
He growled something unintelligible as you trailed behind the guard who was escorting you back to the small dock.
---
Could it be any shock that, after engaging in such activities, your dreams would be lascivious as well?
You certainly weren’t surprised - nor displeased - to find yourself reliving your time in Thranduil’s throne room after you went to sleep that evening. He drew ever closer to his peak beneath you, trembling and pleading in a way he did so rarely… until the dream changed, as they were wont to do.
Suddenly, it was you who was trembling and pleading, feeling the nebulous pleasure of phantom sensation growing and growing until it had nearly reached a precipice.
You leaned into it, even as you were aware that you were sleeping. Sometimes a particular dream could strike the interest of your subconscious. You tried not to dissuade such things when they happened. If you could orgasm from the dream alone, you would welcome the unexpected pleasure.
But then, the sensations were gone, and it was far more abruptly than they had arrived. The force of your drop away from orgasm - after being so close it was nearly painful - woke you and you stared up at the ceiling in blank confusion. With a snort, you reminded yourself that you were well capable of finishing things alone.
You turned onto your side, a hand creeping between your legs. Just as one finger swept up the seam between your legs - you were shockingly wet - a voice drifted through the darkness of the room, emanating from behind you.
“If you reach your peak while I am in the room, will I be considered the winner of our wager?”
By the time you recognized Thranduil’s voice, you had already flipped to face him, wide eyes searching the darkness for the sight of the intruder. You relaxed slightly when you realized you had nothing to fear from him, but the aftermath of your thwarted orgasm was too painful to allow for full relaxation.
“Thranduil,” you said, your ire making his name sound like a curse. “What are you doing here?”
“I was unable to stop thinking of you after your earlier visit to my kingdom,” Thranduil told you. You recognized that he was mimicking your own statements from that very visit, though you weren’t certain why. “After I had taken some time to… collect myself, I decided to repay your visit in kind.”
“My visit was to repay yours to the Ripple,” you reminded him. “We were even.”
“And you do not see a fundamental difference in the activities of those visits?” Thranduil asked, studying his fingers thoughtfully.
“No,” you denied, kicking your chin stubbornly upward.
Thranduil gave a thoughtful hum, licking his fingertips with a soft groan. You realized with a start that the same wetness present on your fingers marked his as well. “Then I suppose I should illustrate the point.”
He was over you before you could react. At first, you couldn’t tell if he was actually laying on you or if he was simply leaning over you with his massive height, but when his hips dipped just enough for you to feel him pressing against you, you accepted that he was indeed real. That spurred you on, and when he pressed his lips to yours, you had already fisted your fingers into the delicate fabric of his tunic, pulling him down to rest against you fully.
Despite the current situation, a kiss usually wasn’t enough to drive you to desperation. But after between the excitement of teasing Thranduil earlier that day and coming so close to orgasm only moments before, you were already nearing the edge.
And that was before Thranduil swept aside your blankets and began kissing his way down your body.
His long, clever fingers were working to undo every button and tie that kept you wrapped in your simple nightwear. Every bit of skin he bared was treated to a lick, kiss, or bite until you were writhing beneath him.
You were a big enough person to admit that the illusion of having no choice played a role in the pleasure you were taking in this scenario. But behind it all, you knew you had only to say the word and Thranduil would stop. Counterintuitively, that was the very thing that gave you the confidence to let go for him.
When he pushed gently at your knees, you willingly let them part, baring your core to him. You were soaked, swollen with your clit distended like it was begging for his attention. In a way, it was.
In a way, you were.
Thranduil descended on you, starting with a long, sweeping lick against your folds. When that made you bite back a noise that sounded suspiciously like a plea, he repeated the motion but let his tongue dip further into you. Your entire lower half twitched, and you weren’t sure whether you were trying to buck him off or drag him closer, but Thranduil’s deceptively strong hands braced against your legs and pressed them open.
With you bared and fully vulnerable to him, Thranduil set to devouring you like you were a feast laid out for him. He kissed between your legs like it was your mouth, tongue slipping inside and exploring briefly before darting away in a teasing swipe.
You were already squirming beneath him, but then the pleasure grew nearly unbearable - Thranduil’s lips closed around your clit and he began to suck gently at you as he pressed his fingers into your core. He alternated the two sensory sources: thrust, suck, thrust, suck, over and over again until you were almost sobbing at the sweet assault on your sensibilities.
Just when you were approaching the shining edge of orgasm, Thranduil removed his lips and fingers. You stared up at him in shocked betrayal, throbbing and achingly empty. Your mind was fuzzy with the diverted pleasure and it was difficult to focus your eyes on Thranduil, but you managed to do so and turn it into a glare at the same time.
He smiled at you, but the regret and apology in it kept you from outright violence. “I am sorry, my little human. But I cannot, in good conscience, force you in such a way.”
“Thranduil, I think I’m going to cause you serious harm if you don’t get over here and fuck me,” you told him bluntly, watching him wince. The Elvenking was not fond of crass language, but you were beyond worrying about such things.
His pale eyes turned serious. “I am sincere. I will not coerce you… no more than I have to this point. If you would truly be happier in Dale…”
Thranduil’s voice faded, as if he could not bear to finish his own statement. You wanted to dismiss it out of hand, but you forced yourself to pause and reflect on it first. If you wanted to live in Dale, and your reasons were anything beyond wanting to expand the Ripple into a different market, you needed to go.
However, the longer you considered it, the more you realized you would miss Esgaroth. You would miss Storr and his little family. You would miss the way the tame waves of the lake lapped at the old boards of Lake-Town. You would miss how the townspeople acted when they told you about a new section of rotting walkways - they always seemed unburdened by the reporting somehow, as if they so completely trusted you to solve the problem that they did not even need to consider it any longer.
And, you supposed, you would even miss Thranduil.
He couldn’t know he had played such a large part in your decision, however. He would misinterpret it… or worse, interpret it correctly. You hadn’t told him you loved him yet, but it was coming quickly. You could only hope to do the same.
“I’m staying,” you told him, the simple revelation making his eyes widen. “So you can come back and-”
You didn’t get any further than that before Thranduil had launched himself back onto your mattress. With typical elven grace, he managed to avoid jostling you in the slightest, but the sight of his face suddenly so close to your own made you blink.
“I suppose that meets with your approval?” you asked with a cheeky smile.
“‘Approval’ is the least of what I’m feeling at the moment,” Thranduil growled. He pulled away for a moment, maybe two, and then he was suddenly bare to your sight. Just how he had managed to fully disrobe in such a short span of time was beyond you, but - to be fair - it wasn’t even close to the top of your list of concerns. The first and most important of those, of course, was how to get him inside you as quickly as possible.
As it turned out, you needn’t do much at all. Thranduil reached between you, placed the head of his cock against the heart of you, took a half-second to brush your clit, and plunged into you as deep as he could get.
You arched up and off the bed, your every muscle straining not only to accept the intrusion, but to encourage Thranduil to press even deeper inside of you. A wordless plea forced its way from your throat, but your lover didn’t seem encouraged. In truth, his eyes were closed, his face grave.
Since words were beyond you at the moment, you reached up to cradle his jaw and cheek, letting your thumb brush gently against the high arch of his cheekbone. Thranduil’s fingers covered yours a moment later as he balanced his weight with ease on his other hand.
When his eyes opened, you did your best to look concerned. You were concerned and wanted to make sure he was well, but you were worried the expression would fail to translate past the strong need for him to drive into you. After balancing on the edge for so long, that need was near-overwhelming, but you had to ensure that Thranduil was not suffering.
He didn’t say anything, however - odd, since he had shown a remarkable talent for reading your face in the past.
When you managed to put together the words, you asked, “Is something wrong?”
Thranduil blinked. “Say it again. Do you intend to remain in Esgaroth?”
“Yes, I’ll stay in Lake-Town,” you agreed.
“Then I am quite well,” he told you. With a sudden, flashing grin, he added, “Perfect, some may say.”
You rolled your eyes instinctively, but your lids fluttered shut as Thranduil withdrew almost completely before driving back inside you with a series of short, firm thrusts.
This was not going to be an extended session, you knew that much. You were already nearing the edge once more. Thranduil was not far behind you, if you were to guess by the way the muscles of his jaw were dancing in time with the movement of his hips.
“Will you agree that you are mine?” he asked, voice coming out in a gruff harshness simply from the nature of your activities. “Knowing that I freely offer to be yours in return?”
You had questions and thoughts, wanted to share a discussion about that very thing, but it was as though your thoughts themselves were slippery. You couldn’t manage to capture any one of them and hold it for any extended amount of time. “Do we- ah! Do we need to discuss this now?”
“Now,” Thranduil gritted, biting back a noise that held more than a bit of desperation. “I must know.”
The end was close, so close. It was taunting you, shining just past the edge of the next thrust, or perhaps the one after that. Thranduil gave a groan so harsh that it knocked you from your internal calculations as you frowned at him.
His reasoning became clear in the next moment, however. He withdrew from you and paused with only the very tip of his length still pressed shallowly into your core. You lay beneath him, poised on the very edge of your orgasm. You were so close that all you could do was stare up at him in confusion and silent pleading as your body throbbed.
With a panting noise of dissatisfaction at your failed attempt at forcing him back inside of you, you frowned up at the Elvenking. “I belong to myself, Thranduil. But if I were to belong to someone… Yes, it would be you.”
He opened his mouth, dark brows furrowed, but you allowed your head to fall back against your pillow. “Please, please move. I don’t know if I can abide this much longer.”
Though he still didn’t seem overjoyed by your concession, Thranduil’s head inclined in a slight nod - almost to himself - and he began to thrust into you once more. A few strokes of him inside your core and you were tightening around him, your inner muscles rippling as sensation burst through every part of your body.
And then Thranduil’s hands tightened on your hips, tilting you so he could get a better angle. This one sent him deeper into you, pushing so far inside that it was nearly painful. Perhaps it would have been, but every plunge sent the head of his cock brushing over that ultra-sensitive place inside of you. It was enough to distract your body from the intrusion with pleasure that was almost equally startling.
The pressure against that spot did something to your orgasm even as it was halfway through being fully realized. It went from all-encompassing to near-blinding. You let out a cry loud enough that you would later be glad that the chilly breeze had prompted you to close your windows. Your toes curled and your hands tightened into fists as your arms and legs wrapped around Thranduil in a convulsive embrace.
You held him pressed against you as you rode out your orgasm and his began. It seemed to be just as intense as yours had been, leaving him panting your name and shoving his cock as deep inside you as he could manage while his body shuddered and jolted with the effort of spilling within you.
At last, he pulled out, you found the strength to release him, and he collapsed to the bed beside you.
Somehow, he recovered faster than you, turning on his side to watch you with an expression akin to glee, especially when on the face of the typically stoic Elvenking. “I hope you have not packed too many of your belongings, Queen of Esgaroth.”
You made a face at him. “I said I’ll stay here. I didn’t say I’ll be the queen. I expect that was the punchline to some jest we were not privy to.”
Thranduil shook his head slowly. “I have assigned several trusted allies to ask around. Apparently, the townspeople are quite serious about having you as their queen.”
“Are you spying on Lake-Town?” you asked, rolling up onto an elbow in a mirror of Thranduil’s position.
“Of course,” he admitted readily. “Every good kingdom employs spies. Thorin and I each have a presence in the other’s halls, and both of us have people gathering intelligence in Esgaroth.”
“That’s ridiculous!” you snapped. “Esgaroth hasn’t even managed to recover from Smaug’s second attack. What threat could we be against Erebor or the Greenwood?”
“None, but spies do not only assist in detecting threats,” Thranduil explained. “They also allow for discovery of policies and reception, trade practices, and the potential to become allies… or perhaps even something more.”
There was a satisfied light in Thranduil’s eyes that made you wag a finger in warning. “You assume too much, Elvenking. I would be the queen of Esgaroth and nothing more to you than we currently are to each other.”
The satisfaction didn’t leave his expression, and when he spoke, Thranduil’s tone was smug. “We will be regents of neighboring kingdoms. We will share a border and several important trade routes. Alliances - including marriages - have been made on far less in the past.”
You groaned, throwing an arm over your face to disguise the way your heart had clenched at the idea of marrying Thranduil. “I don’t believe I’ve had enough orgasms to justify discussing trade policies and alliances of any kind.”
Thranduil hummed. “Allow me to rectify that.”
You were both chuckling as he rolled on top of you and seized your lips in a deep kiss full of promise.
---
Author's Note - Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought!
I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist or on AO3 under username InkSplots!
“Warm” Thorin Oakenshield x Reader Drabble, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
Masterlist
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For: Febuwhump Day 6: Hypothermia
Relationship: Pre-romance
Warning: hypothermia
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Before this journey, adventure, mistake, you had never even seen snow before.
Now you’re stumbling through it, the cold reaching through your layers upon layers of clothes, burning the expanse of your skin. You cannot help but to shiver violently, as you trudge your way up the steep mountainside.
After a while, the pain recedes to a quiet numb, and strangely, you begin to feel warm. You don’t ponder why, actually, you can’t ponder why, your thoughts seeming to swim just in and out of reach…
And then there’s someone by your side. No not someone, Thorin Oakenshield, the brooding and aloof leader of this quest, though the expression on his face is one of frantic worry.
You’re trying to work out what he could be worried about, why he’s talking to you of all people, and…and what is he saying anyways? The words don’t quite reach your ears. You vaguely realize how your head throbs with dehydration, and the black specks encroaching from the edge of your vision.
But it’s so warm, and you barely feel the dwarf’s arms come around you as your minds slips into oblivion.
A/N: I’m writing this on my phone so I guess the formatting is probably going to be way off, I’ll try to fix it and spell check on my laptop tomorrow! I have fucking Covid so I have nothing but time 😑 thanks to y’all who wrote that you wanted a part 2!!
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Y/N spent the next few hours tossing restlessly on the cell floor, irritated by her interaction with Legolas. More than anything, she was frustrated by her own girlish reaction to the prince’s final, honeyed words. She hadn’t time for flirtation: the quest was in peril, and she needed to devote her thoughts completely to mending the drama between Thorin and the Elvenking.
Perhaps this is why Lothlorien is so peaceful, she thought. They have a queen instead of a king.
Suddenly, she began hearing urgent whispers from the cells below. Scrambling to her feet, she peered out towards the cells she could see. Around her, she could hear the dwarves stirring and murmuring. At last, she saw why: Bilbo was making his way through the dungeon, armed with the guard’s keys, and unlocking all of the dwarves’ cell doors. She grinned as he released Fili and Kili; that clever hobbit.
The dwarves began scurrying towards a far exit that seemed to lead towards storage. At the same time as she saw Bilbo craning his neck trying to find where she was imprisoned, she began to hear the footsteps and shouting of the elves above. They were running out of time.
Bilbo spotted her at last, looking exasperated at the realization that her cell was isolated up a separate flight of stairs. He started towards her, but the footsteps grew louder. A decision needed to be made.
Y/N took a deep breath. “There’s no time. Just go with the others. I promise I’ll catch up,” she hissed.
“But-“
“Bilbo, there’s no time, just go.”
His face was pained as he realized she was right; the elves would burst in any second. With a sharp breath and a quick nod, Bilbo turned and scurried after the others. Y/N heard the door latch behind him just as the elves burst into the dungeon and began fanning out, calling to each other in Sindarin. A guard came running up to her cell door.
“Where did they go?” He barked.
“What makes you think I know?” She shot back with annoyance. “They left me here, didn’t they?”
With a scowl the guard turned and rejoined the search. After some time, the dungeon emptied out save for the sound of Y/N’s own heavy breathing. If the dwarves were caught, what then? Would Thranduil have them killed? It seemed he did not take Thorin’s rejection lightly. Swallowing thickly, Y/N paced the cell and waited.
Hours stretched on, and no dwarves were returned to their cells. Y/N could only hope that meant they had escaped, for the alternative was far too grave to dwell upon. She wondered if she would be forgotten down here, alone and of no use to the Elvenking. Exhaustion took hold as she tried to formulate her own escape plan, and soon she was asleep, slumped up against the cell wall.
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"Wake up, please."
The words were spoken gently, yet they startled her. She shot up and instinctively reached for her weapons, realizing quickly that she still did not have them. Her breath released as she recognized Legolas standing at the cell door. She eyed him cautiously, unsure of what he may want.
She was about to tell him that she did not know where the dwarves were when he reached out toward the door with a key in his hand and unlocked it, holding it open and gesturing for her to walk out. Y/N hesitated.
“Where are we going?”
“My father has agreed to release you into my supervision,” the prince replied. “I have had a room prepared for you. I hope you will find it a more preferable accommodation to this.”
“So I am still your prisoner.”
Legolas sighed. “My father believes he may be able to use you to negotiate with the dwarf king if he should reach his mountain.”
“And if he does not, and my usefulness should expire?”
“Let us take it by day, if you please.” The prince looked a bit tired, as though he had spent a day chasing a party of dwarves and arguing with his father. Y/N gave a reluctant nod and began to follow him out of the dungeon. He led them through the palace. A few elves cast curious glances in her direction, but no eyes dared to linger as she was accompanied by their prince.
At length, they reached a wooden door in a quiet hallway seemingly near the servants’ quarters. Legolas unlocked the door and held it open, gesturing her inside. She took a step in but paused when she was next to him, turning to meet his eyes. They were bright, crystal blue, and their expression was unreadable.
“Are you going to lock me in here?”
“No,” he replied quickly. “You are free to walk about the palace and the city, you only must remain within the city walls. There are fresh clothes in the dresser and a few books if you are inclined to read. If there is anything you might desire for entertainment, you need only ask your servant.”
“And what if I should desire my sword?”
“That,” Legolas smiled sadly, “I am afraid I cannot provide you at present. Perhaps,” he lowered his voice and leaned in closer, making Y/N’s breath hitch slightly, “if you earn my father’s trust, he will reward you.”
“I’m not much for kissing arse,” she said bluntly, earning a chuckle from Legolas as he stepped back.
“I can see that.”
She peered into the room she would now be occupying: a large wooden bed made with fine linens, an ornately carved dresser, a large washbasin, a dressing table lined with oils and potions, a small bookshelf and a window bench with a lovely view of the Greenwood.
“Well, this is certainly more pleasant than the cell floor,” she admitted, turning back to him. “I… I thank you, for making these arrangements under the circumstances.”
Legolas nodded. “Of course. I wonder…” he trailed off, shifting his weight for a moment. “I wonder if you might join me for dinner in the garden this evening. Forgive me,” he rushed, seeing the puzzled look on her face, “it is not often these days that I am able to meet non-elves.” He smiled then. “Conversations get a bit boring after a few hundred years.”
Y/N smiled back at that. “I would imagine so. Very well, I will dine with you, my prince.”
The pair’s eyes lingered a few moments as they stood in the doorway, before Legolas straightened and cleared his throat.
“I shall send a servant to run you a hot bath, if you wish.”
“That would be lovely.”
With a breath, Legolas nodded curtly and quickly started down the hallway. Y/N knew that elves rarely showed any emotional tells the way humans did, but she could have sworn that the tips of his elfin ears were pink with embarrassment.
With a heavy sigh, she tore her bored gaze from the crackling fire in front of her to the line of trees that hid a small lake behind her. Truly, she wished to take a dip, but being the only female in a company of thirteen male dwarves and a male hobbit, who happened to be her brother, it was clear she had to wait her turn. So, while she listened to the heartfelt laughs and splashes from the lake, her eyes stared at the fire, as if she was preparing for it to suddenly stand up from its spot on the kindling and march off. Well, that would be something interesting to watch rather than what she was currently watching.
Honestly, she didn't mind sharing, it was her brother who did. Bilbo was almost like a father figure to her instead of an older brother, considering how protective and overbearing he could be. He always told her that he could solve all her problems, that she could trust him with anything. But, there was one thing she would never in her whole life tell him, as it regarded her romantic feelings towards a certain someone. She didn't want him overreacting and making a scene. Normally she would be worried of him scaring the person she had her eye on, but, Bilbo didn't really strike fear into the hearts of anyone in the company, {Y/N} included.
A sudden rustling sound pulled {Y/N} from her brooding thoughts, the small hobbit looking up at the line of trees once more to see the dwarves beginning to make their way back to the makeshift camp they all made. As {Y/N} looked around, she had noticed that's three of the company's members had yet to return from their soak. Fili, Kili, and Bofur were nowhere to be seen, which was normal for the two brothers, as they tended to cause quite a lot of mischief. But Bofur? If he was straying behind with those two, it couldn't have been good, which caused {Y/N}'s heart to constrict. The thought alone of the dwarf in the funny hat caused her to flush and feel all giddy inside. Yes, the one she had affections for happened to be a silly miner, but, that didn't bother her in the slightest.
"{Y/N} dear, are you feeling all right? You look a bit flushed."
Her brother, Bilbo, snapped her out of her sappy thoughts for a second as she had been caught. Luckily, the mother hen of the group was willing to back her up. Well, kind of, he too noticed her flushed features but was convinced it was a different reason.
"She doesn't appear all right to me, all red in the face she is! I told you that sitting that close to the fire isn't good for you!"
With a relieved sigh, {Y/N} smiled, said action being illuminated by the orange glow of the fire in front of her. As she opened her mouth to speak, a sudden yell broke through the forest and put everyone on edge.
"What. . . What do you think that could have been?"
The female hobbit stood from her spot on the log, smoothing out her skirts as she curiously looked out at the forest, no hint of fear evident on her. Meanwhile, her brother Bilbo was standing in front of her rather protectively, trembling arms out in a shielding stance.
Turns out, none of that was needed, as two laughing princes darted from the trees, collapsing in front of the fire with a chorus of giggles and chuckles. Fili and Kili seemed pretty amused, which was never a good sign when it came to the two princes. Now, {Y/N} could only feel worry tangle in her gut as she realized Bofur had yet to return, and that sudden yell was caused by him.
"Oh, {Y/N} darling, you might want to check on our poor miner."
Kili giggled, and how he figured out her feelings for Bofur was a complete mystery, one she'd rather not question and look into. Instead, she glanced over at Thorin, their leader, with an almost pleading look. The Hobbit was aware someone needed to check on Bofur, but why did it have to be her?
"{Y/N}, go check. It is your time to bathe anyway, you can check on him and once he leaves you can bathe."
Oh damn Thorin and his logic!
{Y/N} flushed a bright red, wishing she could sink to the bottom of the lake and stay there once she went in. But for now, all she could do was scowl at Thorin's smug expression, her brows furrowing at his smirk. Bilbo seemed confused at the exchange that just went on, quickly on his sister's heels after she stood with her extra clothes and soap, already marching to the lake.
"Wait, Bilbo, why do you follow me?"
She asked, curious as to why she couldn't walk the 50 feet to the lake alone.
"Well, I don't. . . I don't know if there's something in these woods."
She deadpanned at his half ass excuse but didn't fight him, almost finding it sweet at that moment at least someone cared about her. Maybe they didn't care about what she did and didn't want to do, but the thought counts. Maybe.
"You needn't worry about me, brother, I'll be perfect-"
{Y/N} cut herself off as she walked through the thick line of trees, revealing the lake, who's waters were practically clear. Oh, walking through the trees also revealed a half-naked Bofur, bending over to grab his shirt, which was thoroughly soaked.
Ah, so the prince's must've thrown the poor miner's things into the water. Or, maybe they were able to just get away with the shirt as it appeared that was the only thing that was wet.
{Y/N} felt frozen in her spot, her face heating up hotter than the fire she had just been sitting in front of. And before she could stop herself, she had to rake her eyes up and down his half dressed and disheveled form.
This was the first time she had seen him without a shirt, and without his hat, which she couldn't find anywhere at first. Had the two brothers taken that?
She didn't dwell too long on the question, as she was too busy staring at the dwarf in front of her and his gloriously fit muscles that lined his back.
Hot damn! If he back looked this could, his front could only look better, right?
As if on some sort of cue, Bofur turned around slightly, shirt in his hand, and oh hallelujah, she was right. His front was definitely better than staring at his back. His hair, usually up in his trademark braided pigtails, was let down, and it was long enough to brush against his shoulders. The smile he always wore was replaced with more of a half smirk as he gazed at the two hobbits, and {Y/N} felt her knees go weak at his expression alone.
How could someone who's always so upbeat, happy, and overall adorable suddenly be so undeniably sexy? Not that she was going to complain. Instead, she let her eyes not so subtly trace his clearly fit chest, the outline of his muscles not heavily defined, but it was obvious they were there. No, he didn't have washboard abs but she still found herself growing weak at his physique.
Since she had never seen him shirtless, she always assumed maybe he was on the slightly chubby side, or maybe he had a full-on dad bod, both of which she didn't mind at all. But this? It was definitely a pleasant surprise.
And before the hobbit could stop herself, she muttered out one key phrase that earned a choking sound from her brother.
"It's like he's made of sunshine and sex."
Bilbo gawked at his sister for a moment as Bofur approached them, thankfully not hearing anything the female hobbit had just said.
"Lass? Bilbo? What are you two doing down here?"
Even uttering that pet name he gave her caused a small reaction from {Y/N}, her bottom lip being sandwiched between her two rows of teeth.
"Oh, uh, {Y/N} came down to get ready for her bath. . . And I. . . I came along to check on you, as we heard quite the racket, we assume, that was caused by a certain pair of Durin princes."
"Oh aye! The damn bastards took my hat and tossed my shirt into the water after I had just gotten out. But I'm not too upset, though I am glad you and {Y/N} came to check on me."
Bilbo just gave the dwarf a bright smile as he turned around and started walking back towards the camp, Bofur soon following, leaving {Y/N} alone by the lake with her thoughts.
Immediately, a squeal passed her lips, and she almost ran back to camp if it meant spending more time with Bofur, but she truly was a mess and needed to be cleaned as much as the other dwarves did. So, gently she started to unlace her dress, pushing the fabric past her hips, leaving her in just a white and practically see-through slip. Her hands grabbed the bottom of the item and pulled up, successfully taking off her last item of clothing. And with a sigh, she had lowered herself into the cool water, it being a welcomed feeling after a long day of travel.
Unknown to the hobbit, a certain pair of eyes stayed on her longer than necessary as she undressed. Bofur was walking away with Bilbo, but he realized he had left some soap Dori leant him at the lake edge, and he didn't really need to feel the wrath of the group's mother hen. But as he walked through the line of trees, he was forced to stop in his tracks as he saw only what he could describe as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Sure, he fancied {Y/N}, but chose to stay away due to the fact that he didn't want to give her brother a hobbit heart attack. He knew damn well Bilbo wouldn't approve of his sister courting any of the dwarves, especially someone like Bofur. He wasn't royalty, he wasn't special, he was just a miner. But, that miner has fallen in love with that girl from the Shire and he couldn't help it.
And now, here he was, watching her undress like a pervert rather than look away and give the woman privacy. But, he couldn't find the strength to look away, the small freckles all over her body, her soft round thighs, those things alone were drawing him to stay. Bofur knew he needed to leave, though, and fast, before she caught him and well, before he developed a certain. . . Problem.
The dwarf had reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the sweet hobbit and instead made his way back to camp, the images of a very naked {Y/N} still dancing in his mind, causing his mood to skyrocket. Of course, Kili had noticed his dopey smile and dared to ask him about it.
"Say, Bofur, what has you in such a good mood?"
Kili shot Bofur a grin, almost knowing what he was going to say, but no one was prepared for what he uttered next, especially Bilbo, who was actually sitting next to him on a log.
"Let me tell you, that one, {Y/N}. . . I would love to rough her up in an art gallery because dammit, that masterpiece deserves to be pinned against the wall."
And that's when all hell broke loose.
The first one to make a sound was Bilbo, which was really only a sputter, followed by a curt sentence: "You what!"
This spurred on Fili and Kili to full on break into a fit of laughter, said fit even generated a small chuckle from Dwalin and a laughing fit from Nori. Oin asked if someone could repeat what was said, causing Gloin to reassure him that he really didn't want to know. Bifur looked confused and honestly seemed to act like he wasn't in any way related to the idiotic miner. Bombur simply placed his head in his hands, trying to process what he just heard. Dori seemed panicked as Ori was trying to ask what that meant and Nori, through small giggles, was trying to provide a crude explanation. Balin could only shake his head at the chaos that was going on, and Thorin simply shot Bofur a small smirk.
The loud commotion only stopped when {Y/N} walked back to camp, seeming refreshed but confused.
"Does one of you mind telling me what is going on? I'm pretty sure they could hear your laughter in Rivendell!"
She chuckled to herself, but no one replied, as they seemed transfixed on looking between her and Bofur. It wasn't until Fili spoke up that everything started up again.
You’d been on the receiving end of your father’s icy stares many a time before. But this one had to be the worst.
“How dare you,” your father finally hissed. “How dare you sneak off when I forbade you to leave? And to hear that you’ve gone and joined forces with this scum?”
“They’re not scum, Father.”
“Do not argue with me. Go to your room. I can’t bear to look at you.”
“You can’t order me to my room. I am a grown woman.”
“You are back under my roof, and you will listen to me.”
You turned, finding Thorin standing behind you. “Let’s go. There’s no hospitality to be found here.”
The dwarf king studied you but eventually nodded. As the Company turned, Gandalf held a hand up. “Thranduil, it would serve you well to give this group some food and shelter for the night. They shall leave in the morning.”
“Gandalf, do you honestly think you have any room here to order me around?”
“I’m not ordering. But if you feel it best to argue, I can strengthen my side.”
Your father stood, tight-lipped. “Fine. Nourishment will be provided in the kitchen in an hour.”
“Not the Great Hall?”
“Do not press your luck.”
Gandalf gave a slight bow. “Come, Company. I believe there’s a place to freshen up down the hall.”
You tried to follow your newly found friends when a hand enclosed around your bicep. Turning, you saw Legolas holding onto you.
“Take her to her room,” Thranduil said, turning his back on you. “Do not let her leave.”
Legolas pulled your closet open, retrieving a fancy dress from the back. After living in the wilderness (and wearing pants!) for such a long time, all you saw in his hands was a giant constricting snake.
“You cannot be serious.”
“If you want to get Father off your back, you’ll change.” Legolas sniffed. “And bathe.”
You rolled your eyes. “Leg, please. I’m a grown woman and–”
“And Father will never let you leave again if you keep up this attitude.”
You scoffed. “I escaped once. I can do it again.”
“Not after the increase in security.”
You had noticed more guards on your way in. “Gandalf will help me get out.”
“He’s already tested Father’s patience. He may be old, but he knows his limits.”
“Then Thorin will get me out.”
“Please. That pesky dwarf is no match for Father.” Legolas handed the dress to you. “Now. Go change.”
“Leg,”
“Don’t make this worse for yourself, Y/N.”
You sighed. As much as you hated to admit it, you knew Legolas was right. And the smallest part of you couldn’t help but remember how well that dress fit you… you wanted to know what Thorin would think of it.
Legolas agreed to persuade your father to let the company eat in the Great Hall with you. The dwarves looked out of place in their furs and traveling gear, but you were happy that your father had allowed them out of the kitchen.
Even if he made you sit at the far end of the table, next to him, instead of next to Thorin.
But there was a plus side to this seating arrangement.
From this vantage point, you could see the gazes Thorin kept sending your way. His eyes sparkled and the smallest of smiles was on his face.
The Company was relegated to the kitchen for the evening, given potato sacks for beds. At least it would be warm.
When you were sure your father was asleep, you crept down to the kitchen. The dwarves were all snoring lightly (well… some of them. Some of them sounded like a heard of elephants).
All except one.
“What are you doing down here?”
You spun, finding Thorin behind you. The flames from the woodfire stove threw shadows on his face. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I’ve been up.”
“Why?”
“I was wondering if I should try and find your chambers in this maze of a castle.”
You felt your cheeks heating, thankful for the shadows hiding their true color. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I miss having you in close proximity. I feel better when I can see you, know that I can protect you.”
You smiled, sitting down next to him. He was warm and solid as you leaned against him. The two of you were quiet for a few moments.
“I’m only sorry that tonight… is our final night,” Thorin said in a quiet, gruff voice.
“What? Why?”
“Your father will not allow you to travel will us any longer. Now that he has you back home, he will not relinquish his grasp on you.”
“He cannot stop me.” You reached out and took his hand in yours. It amazed you how much larger his hand was than yours. His thick fingers intertwined with your delicate ones. “I want to be with you. With this Company.”
Thorin gave your hand a squeeze. “I want nothing more.”
Credit to the imagine found here from middle-earth-imagines! Gif credit goes to the original creators.
You delicately perched yourself on the ground, resting against a fallen tree and wrapping your thick winter coat around you. You picked at the brown grass below you, ripping up a few pieces and throwing them down in frustration. You looked out over the bland colored landscape. If you were back home in the Shire, it surely would have snowed by now. It was the dead of winter! Thoughts of your cozy hobbit hole drifted into your mind.
Gandalf lumbered over and sat down on a fallen log near you. He silently took out his pipe and started packing his smoking weed into it, humming pleasantly to himself. You caught yourself smiling him as you watched him fiddle with his pipe. Your old friend’s contentment in simple pleasures always made you feel more at home, even when you were out in the wilderness with on a journey to unknown lands with a company of dwarves.
“Gandalf...?” you quietly tried to get his attention.
Which didn’t work.
“Gandalf?” You repeated, louder this time.
Again, nothing from the wizard.
“GANDALF!” You nearly yelled.
He finally looked up from his pipe. “Ah, yes, my dear hobbit. What is it?” He asked, going back to working on his pipe while talking with you.
“Why hasn’t it snowed yet? It has been cold and cloudy for days. It should have snowed by now. I bet there is snow in the Shire. It is the middle of winter. When will we get snow here?”
“Do you really want snow, (Y/N)? It will make our travels much more difficult, trudging through all that muck.” He mumbled, now trying to light up his pipe.
“Well, maybe not so much that I want the snow, but it is so beautiful to look at. It would make me happy to see some. Maybe not too much - just a dusting at most...” you paused, thinking to yourself for a moment. Gandalf seemed to not be paying you any mind as you looked up at the sky, thinking.
“You could make it snow, couldn’t you Gandalf? Just a little. Just to make the trees white and a light dust on the ground. It would be so much nicer than this brown... EVERYTHING. Brown grass, brown tree branches, brown leaves. Oh please, Gandalf...? ”
Gandalf looked up at you as he puffed on his pipe, and could see the sparkle of excitement in your (E/C) eyes, just like a child. He chuckled softly and looked over to the rest of the company, they were still setting up camp for the night. Gandalf spied Bombur beginning to light the fire he would cook over. “I suppose... We are settling in for the night... A light dusting might not hurt.”
Gandalf broke into a smile that spread across his whole face as he stood up, lifted his staff, and muttered a quiet spell up towards the sky. Moments later you could see large white fluffy flakes falling around you.
You looked over towards Gandalf, the soft flakes starting to gather on the brim of his hat and you had a smile on your face that was more genuine than you had felt in a long while. Traveling through the wilderness was not easy - not in the slightest - but having your good friend there to support you made it more tolerable.
Behind you, you could hear a few of the dwarves (largely Dwalin and Thorin) start to grumble about the snow, and Balin trying to calm them down “Aye, it is an inopportune time lads, but I would take this over a rainstorm!”. And Bombur mainly just worried about making his dinner “These big snowfakes best not water down my stew!”
Bofur turned to Ori and laughed as he said “You best start knitting a little faster, boy. We’ll all need new mittens it seems!” Which gathered a few laughs from the others.
Fili and Kili came running out from the shelter where the horses were and looked up towards the sky, with big smiles and the same wonderment that had been in your eyes a moment ago. They both began to hop up and down, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues, and of course see who between the two of them could get the most in the quickest time.
You giggled as you looked on, glad at least that someone else was enjoying the change in weather as well. You smiled to yourself as you looked out at the woods before turning to Gandalf with a serious look on your face.
“You can stop the snow just as easily, right?” You asked.
Gandalf just tilted his head back and let out his familiar, booming laugh.
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AN: This is my first imagine that I am posting! Constructive comments are always welcome, and if you have any requests I would be happy to take a stab at them! Let me know what you thought :)
