#lilbardrhi

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Eight: Mahimrêl

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Smut, Sex, angry sex, public sex, 18+, MDNI, NSFW

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT- this is the chant I've been hearing for days from LilBardRhi leading up to this chapter.

[Khuzdul, fuck]

"Elves couple for life, you know."

"How very penguin-like of them," I said dryly, not taking my eyes from the painting of Isuldur confronting Sauron.

Fí paused, in the corner of my vision, like he didn't quite know what to do with that. "I do not know what that means," he said finally. "You will be unlikely to find one willing to lie with you, warrior. I thought you would wish to know."

I turned to him now, smile on my lips a little sharp, a little hungry. "Oh, I don't know. That elf-maid you ran off seemed willing enough. Pelingilel. Pretty name. Prettier girl."

"Eagle," Fí said, tone as frustrated as his expression.

"Lion," I shot back mockingly.

He sighed and downed the contents of his goblet, then leveled a finger and a glare my way. "You need to stop."

"Why?" I tilted my head to study him, his jaw tight as he studied me right back. "I'm unattached. And this place… Something about it," I murmured.

I stretched my arms up, so the tunic I'd tossed on after my bath- Fili's, actually- rode higher on the bare legs I had curled under me. I arched my back into the stretch and let out a throaty sound, half sigh and half groan, and I knew the unlaced opening of the tunic was giving him a nice view of the nothing I had on beneath it. When I settled, leaning on the arm of the bench, I watched him watch me until I chuckled.

His eyes snapped to mine as I rose, holding his gaze.

"I feel good here. Rested and… restless," I said with a lazy shrug.

He muttered in Khuzdul and turned away, crossing to the small table nearby that held a pitcher. I thought it might be water, but hell, it could have been something stronger.

He cursed again and I laughed when he fumbled the pitcher and splashed red wine all along the table instead of into his goblet. Shaking my head, genuinely amused, I reached for the pitcher to take it from him.

"You're drunk, Fí," I informed him.

He shot me a smoldering look as my hand brushed his. "And you're- something."

I thought about his hand, warm under mine, and the way it felt with his fingers in my hair in the firelight. Intimate, indeed, I thought, and I trailed my fingertips along the back of his hand and toward his wrist. "I'm many things."

"Sleeping with one of them is a poor decision."

Like quicksilver, the restless, churning ache that had been filling me since we'd crossed into this place- or maybe since the Wargs had attacked, I honestly wasn't sure- flashed over into anger. Anger came easily to me, and Fíli Durin thinking he had any right to run off my choices of companion all week and then come tell me I needed to stop-

I scoffed and snatched his goblet from him, pouring it steadily despite hands that trembled. I sipped as I turned away, heading back for my bench. "Why? Why is it such a terrible thing for me to be in some elf's bed tonight?"

His hand locked around my wrist and he jerked me back toward him. Instantly, I flung the goblet in his face, anger turning to fury and need I didn't want to admit. He knocked the damn thing aside and pulled on my arm again, until I lost my balance and half-fell onto the bench with a hiss of irritation.

He gripped my shoulders and pinned my back against the wall, his legs pressing against my knees until I opened them automatically. Breath caught in my throat, I licked suddenly dry lips and watched the way his eyes heated as they followed the motion.

"Because," he growled, leaning in so close I could see every shade of blue swirling in his eyes.

"Because why?" I whispered. I watched his lips as he half-grimaced, frustrated sound rumbling low in his throat before he finally snapped, shaking me slightly.

"Because I want you in mine!"

His mouth claimed mine, hard and angry and urgent, and I arched into hands that shifted from pinning me back to pulling me toward him.

It was like he was a magnet and I was a blade, caught and helpless and not at all unwilling. I heard the needy moan that slipped from me when his hands slid up and into my braids, winding them all around his fingers and yanking my head back so he could bite his way down my neck in fast, sharp stings.

"Fí. Oh, shit, Fí," I muttered, clutching handfuls of his tunic as sensation lit my body up like a torch in the night.

He snarled, mouth pressed open and hot against my pulse, and I shivered hard.

"We shouldn't stay here." He trailed his fingers over my bare thigh, playing with the hem of my tunic until I thought I'd go fucking mad, lack of movement on his part at odds with the words.

"Why not?" I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my point, already so aroused I didn't give a shit who saw.

They could mock us until the end of time if they wanted; this dwarf was going to fuck me, and please god, he was going to do it now.

His hand went flat and tightened on my thigh when I rocked my hips against him. "Stop that! We're- my room is not far, azaghâl. Come on."

"No." I held him stubbornly in place when he would have pulled away. "Here. Now. Fí."

He stared at me, eyes wild, and I took the opportunity to yank his own tunic from his trousers and get my hands on his skin. His eyes closed as he sucked in a harsh breath, and I smiled and hooked my fingers under the edge of his trousers.

"Eagle…" he said, tone warning but weakening. "Why?"

I shrugged when he opened his eyes to look at me and bit at my lip. "I'm here. You're here. I'm not wearing anything under this, so it'll be easy. Why not?"

His expression went dark and deadly, the same look I'd seen when we'd been encircled by the wargs and I'd drawn axe to stand against them. Moving like lightening, that warrior's controlled burst of action without any advertisement it was coming, he had his hand between my legs, two fingers thrusting brutal and deep inside.

He snarled in Khuzdul and I half-laughed around the gasp he'd summoned, and he curled his fingers and drew them slowly, so slowly, out again.

"See?" I whispered, and let my head fall back and my eyes flutter closed. I moaned, soft but passionate, as he continued stroking his fingers in and out. "Easy."

"Silence, azaghâl. This is foolish."

"This is hot, and you know it," I teased, writhing against the brick behind me when he thrust in fast and hard again. I shot him a sly look. "Admit it."

He didn't speak, but his eyes spoke wonders as they travelled my body. I ran my hand down his arm to grip his wrist, lifting my hips to meet the next movement of the hand I'd known would be as strong and competent at this as it was at swordplay.

I twined my other hand in his hair, tugging until his lips met mine. He thrust his fingers in a little quicker, a little harder, and I moaned into his mouth as pleasure built in a steady, sweeping flood.

"No," he ordered calmly against my lips. "Not yet."

My eyes shot wide and I glared at him, already panting and so goddamn close. "Why the fuck not?"

"Because I said so."

I scoffed and pulled away, even as he bit at my lip and sent me that much closer to the edge. "Fuck off. I don't play that kind of game. I'll come when I'm ready to."

He laughed, letting go abruptly and breaking away to study me sprawled disheveled on the bench. I glared, and he shrugged. "You'll get there alone then."

"Oh, you think that's a problem for me?" I said sweetly, and trailed my fingers up my own thigh, spreading my legs open wider and propping my foot up on the bench to give him a better view. "I play just fine all… by… myself."

He stared as I swirled my fingers higher on my thigh, arching against the stone and running my other hand down my body and back up. I licked my lips and let my eyes close, because dwarf or not, I needed to come and I needed it yesterday.

His hands closed over my wrists, lifting my arms and pinning my hands against the wall behind me. "No," he whispered, voice so goddamn commanding I froze. "Mine."

"Yes, your highness," I mumbled, going for mocking. Considering how I stayed still, eyes wide, and the smug way he smiled, I probably didn't succeed. He kissed me lightly and let go of my hands, and I kept them where he'd left them as he undid the ties on his trousers.

He pulled me closer by my hips, and I wrapped my legs around him again. He slid inside me with a groan as I dug my nails into his back and set my teeth into his shoulder to keep from half-sobbing his name.

Mahal, I needed this.

He seemed to be in as much of a fucking hurry as I was, all puns intended, as he buried himself hard and deep inside me. "Azaghâl," he breathed against my neck, then skimmed his mouth up my neck and to my lips as he moved.

I was gasping with each slow, sharp thrust, everything narrowing to just him and his body against and inside mine. He mumbled against my lips, neither of us kissing anymore, really- more just lips resting against each other as he fucked me hard but slow, a torturous combination that had me clawing my way up, up, up in a frenzied climb sure to end in a terrifying free-fall.

Teetering on the edge, I mumbled some of his Khuzdul back to him, sounds and phrases I understood without knowing what in the hell I was saying, and he shuddered, his fingers gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise as he kept to his tormenting pace with obvious difficulty.

I took his face in my hands and called his name as I fell, and he pressed his lips hungrily to mine and followed me down.

Panting, we stared at each other in the sudden stillness. That just happened.

That just fucking- oh shit.

A footstep sounded in the hallway, perilously close, and Fí jerked away, hauling his breeches into place and fleeing without a word.

Fuck, I thought, shoving a shaking hand through my hair.

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[saradika-graphics]

I just needed you to know that I absolutely adore your graphics. Keep up the good work! 🥰

this made me smile, thank you so much for the encouragement! 💖 this was so nice to hear

[megjameswrites]

Chapter Eleven: gairurakhâs

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

{Khuzdul; goblins}

His lip curled in a sneer, eyes fixed on the goblins swarming around them. “Steady, eagle,” he murmured to the woman practically vibrating at his side.

“They’re gross,” she hissed back. “And they took my weapons. Fí. I hate this.”

“I know. Stop screaming, we need to listen.” He focused on the giant, repulsive king of goblin town, demanding to know which of them was Fíli’s uncle, and his hands moved for blades that were no longer there.

Mahal take these perversions of life, he swore viciously as the goblins crowded closer to him and his eagle. He shoved back, feeling her shudder at their touch, and found himself nose to nose with one particular bastard who leered at her harder than he liked.

He found his attention straying from the fat goblin king who was most certainly going to sentence them to death and focusing on the woman at his side more than ever before, and he wondered yet again if he had made a mistake back in Rivendell.

He had watched her flirt with elves, men and women alike, and jealousy flamed and screamed within at the idea of her lying with one of them. It was not merely that they were elvish bastards, whom he hated as his uncle did, but that- that it was not him who she looked upon with that single-minded hunger in her eyes.

He’d acted on it, taking her in a public place, on a public bench, and since then the thought of feeling her moving against him again had haunted his every dream and most of his waking moments, despite their careful promise to each other to stay merely friends.

He was forsworn to carry on the line of Durin, provided they made it out of this cavern with their heads in tact- a circumstance seeming more and more unlikely as the Goblin King held them longer- and she was not a dwarrowdam. There was no future in a liaison between them, however enjoyable it might have been.

So why did he flex the not inconsiderable muscle of his arm when she latched onto it?

“Fí. Pay attention. Things are about to get messy,” she said into his ear, so low he knew only he would hear.

It was unlike her to use the knowledge he knew she had of what would happen to them. There was something coming then, something urgent and important, and it was up to him to be the king apparent and defend his people. He nodded, not asking questions, and suddenly the cavern was awash with blinding light.

“And there it is,” she muttered. “Get ready for running. And improvised weapons.”

Something about it made him smile, how dryly annoyed she sounded about the whole affair. Then the cavern burst into riotous, chaotic motion, and he was indeed busy defending his people- and her- with whatever he could grasp to use as a weapon.

And while he said he defended azaghâl, the truth was, she fought right there at his side, yelling to Rhi- who burned goblins with a touch of her hands- and to him and adding insults to the unending crowd of goblins they charged through.

It was useless, and he knew it, but they would not go down without a fight. And besides, if she had believed it impossible to escape, she would have told him.

He could not imagine she would choose not to share that knowledge, if it was in her possession.

They found themselves once more in a precarious position, surrounded and outnumbered and taunted by the massive form of the king. At his side- always at his side, he thought, and when she wasn’t he searched her out until she was there- she muttered something under her breath he couldn’t catch.

Gandalf sliced open the goblin king at stomach and throat, and he would have cheered, except then they were falling.

They slammed to a halt, and beneath him, Meg groaned.

Instantly, Fíli reminded himself they were at risk of death, and did his best to not react to their deeply unfortunate positioning. Which he could not do anything to avoid, given Bombur was on top of him, and-

"Well, that could have been worse."

Meg groaned again, and instant later, weight slammed onto them from above. Fili grunted as the impact drove him harder toward the ground, which unfortunately meant harder into the body beneath him as well, and-

Her eyes opened and she flashed him a wicked grin. "At least buy a girl dinner first, damn."

He rolled his eyes at her as he strained to remove the weight of Bombur and whatever rocks had rained from above from his shoulders, and watched something move across her face that could, maybe, have been… appreciation?

She slid rapidly free the moment he'd gotten himself high enough for her to do so, grabbing Bombur by the arms and tugging until he rolled from Fili's back. "Good news, the fat bastard's dead. Not you, Bombur, we love you, I'd never call you a fat bastard. Bad news," she continued in a strangely cheerful tone, "we're not done with the running and escaping. Find your feet, Fi; time to go."

"Gandalf!"

Fíli's head whipped toward the sound of his brother's call, and he followed Kíli's eyes toward the swarm descending on them from above. Immediately, he began pulling the others to their feet, shoving what weapons they had into their hands and generally attempting to get the crowd of them ready for what was coming.

"There's too many. We can't fight them," Dwalin growled from where he did the same as Fíli.

"See? The running," Meg muttered at his side. "Come on, let's go already."

"Indeed. Only one thing can save us now," Gandalf agreed, eyeing her as he turned to search out a path. "Daylight."

"So let's fucking go," Meg repeated, grabbing Rhi's arm and hauling her to her feet. "Kick it into gear, bitches. That way."

In the bright morning sunlight, everything seemed, for a moment, to be fine. Their Hobbit returned, having survived some adventure of his own, and though his uncle was- as Meg would have put it- an ass, Bilbo remained with their party.

But nearby, despite Rhi leaning against her and breathing hard, his warrior seemed… uneasy. And Fili had learned to trust that unease explicitly.

"Something's coming," he said quietly to Kíli. "Prepare yourself."

Kíli looked startled, but he followed Fili's nod toward the women and sudden thoughtfulness crossed his face. "Do you think it's because she knows things, about us? They both have heard our story. They know how it ends, right? Why don't they tell us?"

Fili often forgot that small fact, their knowing everything about how this quest would turn out. But there was more to it than that, he was certain. "She is attuned to the world. To its evils. There is something coming, whether predestined or not, and I will face it the same either way. We make our own destiny, brother."

And then the Wargs began to howl.

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[megjameswrites]

Chapter Six: Thafan

Pairings: Fíli x Original Female Character; Kili x original female character

CW: graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-insert style original characters; The Trifecta (smut, fluff, and angst); time travel; MGiME

Summary: @lilbardrhi and I started yelling about Tolkien. Go read her parts and my other before you read this one, or this makes no sense. Find them here (hers). And here. (mine)

She gave us new chapters, so yall get a new one from me too!

[Khuzdul: practice]

They did not suit her any better in the morning, Fíli decided. His uncle was skilled, yes, but the braids he'd put in his warrior's hair-

Fíli shook his head and tried not to scowl as he checked the kettle over the fire. He'd drawn last watch, and she had sat beside him most of it, her voice the occasional low murmur in the dark. For the most part they'd sat in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts, and Fíli didn't mind. He didn't know what she was contemplating, but the muted shing of blade over whetstone had been a soothing accompaniment to his own musings.

She'd fallen back asleep perhaps an hour ago, and somehow her head had ended up on his shoulder. He found he did not mind, not in the least. The opposite, actually, and he reminded himself sternly that he would be king and she was his friend, nothing more. She was his friend, who already sat with a hand over her eyes and a scowl on her lips, craving the hot, bitter coffee he poured into a mug now.

"I can take it," Rhi said brightly. "She's looking in a particular mood this morning."

Fíli smiled and handed over the cup reluctantly. Mood or not- and she was, indeed, in a foul one- he would have done it himself, but he found himself thinking a little too hard and a little too long about her and her braids and her song the night before. "Thank you. Did you sleep well?"

He was teasing her lightly, since he didn't even know if she knew that sometime in the early morning hours, she'd curled on her side and ended up with her face buried in the edge of his brother's blanket. Fili had pretended not to notice, either that or the way Kíli had sat up slightly, stared down at her, and lain back down again, his hand inches from hers as if he would have liked to be holding hers.

From the way she smiled, he suspected she did not know. "Yes, actually! I'm sorry you keep drawing dawn watch. We really should switch it up some more. Thorin needs to add Meg and I to the list. We can do it."

"Uncle will not, but I don't mind. I like to watch the sunrise," Fili said easily. He did, and always had. But he liked it a great deal more now. "You'd best take that over to her before she snarls at someone," he added when Azaghâl ran a hand over her hair and looked around. Her eyes narrowed on the cup in Rhi's hand and she shoved to her feet.

"Oops, yeah, she's moving. Shit," Rhi muttered and took off around the fire.

Fíli bent and began to fold his empty bedroll, keeping half an eye on his warrior's murderously blank expression as she gulped coffee and ignored Rhi's chatter. His uncle was a skilled braider, Fíli acknowledged, but what he'd done simply didn't… didn't feel right.

It was too soft. Too delicate, he realized abruptly. Strands swept back from her face in tiny braids, pulled so they looked loose instead of tightly woven. Thorin had pulled those strands around to hold most of her hair down her back in a lattice-work cage, with two twisting anchor braids starting at the crown of her head and incorporating what he'd pulled back from her face into the lacy design. It was lovely.

It was wrong. Fíli would have done better, and he was already imagining what exactly he would do instead when Thorin declared it time for them to ride.

He'd missed this, he thought as she circled slowly, weight on the balls of her feet and concentration in her eyes. The night before, while she'd been getting her hair braided, he'd fought with Dwalin. He'd been afraid he was becoming too accustomed to sparring this warrior in particular, and he'd lose some of his edge if he didn't find another partner. It was the same logic that he'd flung her way when he'd dared her to take on Dwalin herself, and it was the same logic that had him bringing in Kíli or one of the others to fight with her at random times.

But even dancing around a fire with Azaghâl wasn't the same as this, and he was trying not to let his enjoyment get in the way of giving her an actual lesson in swordplay. Well, axe play.

Not that she needed it anymore, truly. She'd been one of the fastest pupils he'd ever trained, taking to axe and blade like she'd been using them half her life, not like the complete novice she'd confessed to being before they'd begun. For Mahal's sake, she'd disarmed Dwalin, and that was over a week ago. She didn't need to learn from him anymore.

Which meant they could really enjoy themselves, he thought now.

He saw her prepare to attack, saw the tiniest shift in her shoulders that no other opponent would have seen. She didn't telegraph attacks, not like some he'd fought, but he'd been sparring her near nightly and studying her every movement. He saw it, and he rushed in before she could do so, hoping to throw her off balance.

He didn't succeed. She'd faked him, he realized with pride and delight, even as she set him on the defensive. She came in like a whirlwind, axe in one hand and one of his knives in the other, and he was hard-pressed to parry. When she kicked out, he fell right into it, and went down hard.

She followed him, wicked glint in her eyes and blade to his throat. He should have been thinking about that, but he absolutely was not.

"Pinned ya," she said cheerfully.

He swallowed hard, trying to think about anything but her position, her weight almost entirely on his lap, with one of his hands pinned at the wrist by her knee and the other twisted awkwardly under his back. She grinned down at him, his uncle's braids falling around her face and beginning, he noticed, to come loose.

No, he could not think about braiding her hair right now, or things would get very awkward between them.

He grunted in acknowledgment, knowing that was all he'd be able to manage without making a fool of himself, and began mentally cursing when Rhi's voice caused his warrior to settle herself down onto him completely.

"Ok, Nala," Rhi said.

His warrior rolled her eyes as she straddled him and flipped the blade from his throat. "We're training; I'm not fucking him."

Mahal take him now- Damnation, Fíli thought desperately. My mother, molded bread, goblins. He cast around for anything else he could think of that would keep him from thinking too hard about her on top of him and the idea of them fucking. Bombur eating eggs-

"You sure about that?" Rhi sounded entirely too damn amused, and Fili scowled.

Azaghâl rolled her eyes and sprang to her feet, extending a hand down to him with a smile. "Whatever. Come on; again."

He wasn't certain he'd survive doing that again, and he didn't just mean because she'd gotten a kill point on him.

"You said I couldn't be Nala. Why does she get to be?" His brother sounded downright offended.

"Who is Nala?" he wondered as Meg pulled him to his feet. He'd heard the name before, he thought, but he could not place it.

"Simba's girlfriend," Rhi declared.

Fíli coughed to cover the way he'd just tried to choke on absolutely nothing, covering his dismay- and his very physical reaction to the comparison- by turning away from his warrior. Simba was the lion prince, which they had teasingly compared him too. Azaghâl's cheeks had burned red when she explained the reference to him after their game of truth or dare, and he'd been delighted to find she thought of him as a lion. Now he tried to clear his airway and managed to respond. "We need to hear this tale, I think."

Meg laughed. "Yeah, you do. She should do that one tonight. Come on, Fí, again! I'm still restless."

"I believe that is enough for today." He thought of her weight on him, tossing braids over her shoulder, and- Mahal. He was right. He wouldn't survive that again. Not without throwing her down and having his way with her in front of the entire Company.

She pouted, the same one she'd used to deadly effect on his uncle, and he hated that he felt his resolve weaken immediately. "Fiiiiineeee," she said with a sigh. Then she flashed those sea-witch eyes his way, gleaming and calculating. "Just don't want to lose again, do you?"

"Damn you," he snarled. She'd challenged him on purpose. She knew he couldn't resist that, or those dancing eyes, or the lip she poked out and he had a sudden, violent urge to bite-

Mahal take her, and him.

"Fine! Again!" he snapped, and flung himself at her in a whirlwind attack with no warning.

She shifted like lightening, slipping by him like smoke from a fire. How the hell-? He spun, going low and flashing in with the knife he pulled from his vambrace as he turned, but she hooked her axe- his axe- around his wrist and sent the knife flying.

Then she was the one who lashed out, and once again he was flat on his back, her knees on either side of him and her hands pinning his arms above his head.

He absolutely was not thinking about sweeping her knee and rolling them, or getting his hand around her throat and his mouth on hers. He wasn't. He was thinking about the fight and trying to figure out where he went wrong.

He was reasonably certain it was in noticing those damn sea-witch eyes when Bilbo Baggins opened his front door.

"Pinned ya again," she declared, winking at him.

"You can't kill me from here," he objected, the only thought that wasn't inappropriate for him to be having, much less vocalizing.

She let go of his wrists as she straightened, and Fíli thanked every Valar he could name- which unfortunately wasn't many- that she hadn't sat back onto his lap again. "Maybe not, but I still have the upper hand," she said with a shrug. She pushed loosening strands of hair from her eyes and flashed him another wicked grin. "My point."

"I'm beginning to believe you always have the upper hand," he muttered as she rose.

"What?" she asked, looking down and extending her hand again as he began to force himself to his feet.

He took it, just to feel her slim fingers in his, and shook his head. "Nothing. Again!"

Rhi jumped to her feet, eyes suspiciously bright. "Nope! Story time!"

"But-" he and Meg protested at the same moment, and laughter broke out among the Company.

By the time they stopped the next evening, his warrior looked about a thousand times more frustrated over her hair than she had before his uncle had braided it. He didn't blame her, since it was slipping from the latticework braids and falling into her face, just as she'd said her hair was apt to do.

Uncle Thorin should have known better, Fíli thought in vague disgust. If he hadn't been willing to braid her hair right, he shouldn't have volunteered to do it at all. He should have just let Fili do it, like he'd been working up the courage to offer.

"We'll camp here for the night," his uncle called. "Fíli, Kíli, look after the ponies."

Fíli listened with half an ear as Gandalf muttered and argued with his uncle, distracted by the way Meg sighed and shoved hair behind her ear as she rubbed Shadowmere's nose and whispered to her. He missed Rhi's comment, but his warrior's laugh made him smile.

Then he watched one of her braids slip free and he'd had enough. "I'm fixing your braids," he told her abruptly. It wasn't an offer or a question. He was doing it, damn it. She deserved better. "Just let us take care of the ponies first."

She blinked, and he could have sworn he saw a blush on her cheeks. "Oh- ok. I'll help."

"I'm coming too," Rhi said brightly.

Fíli grunted and grabbed Minty and Myrtle. Kíli shot him a questioning look, but he ignored his brother, Rhi, even his warrior and focused on the horses.

This was a terrible idea, and he damn well knew it.

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[megjameswrites]

Masterlist for part one (Meg's POV) of Tolkein-verse: The Hobbit: A Very Unexpected Journey.

This is a WIP and collaboration with @lilbardrhi. Honestly, it was all her idea, so blame her. PLEASE READ A VERY UNEXPECTED JOURNEY FIRST. Azaghal will make no sense without it. This is purely supplemental fun for Lilbardrhi's creation. Give her all the love and likes if you want to see more misadventures of two besties in Middle Earth.

Chapter One: Gunnel

Chapter Two: Hurun

Chapter Three: Abkât

Chapter Four: Atnuz

Chapter Five: Manl

Chapter Six: Thafan

Chapter Seven: Zahahyad

Chapter Eight: Mahimrêl **** NSFW****

Chapter Nine: Khuzd allâkhulé

Chapter Ten: Islên

Chapter Eleven: gairurakhâs

Chapter Twelve: baruk khazâd

Chapter Thirteen: azhâr

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