Inspired by this imagine found on imaginexhobbit. Find it on my Ao3 here.
It was after sunset when Thorin finally called for a halt, though it was hard to tell the time at all when the dark, heavy clouds had been blocking the sun since morning. The entire company was tired, wet, and cold, the rain having let up only a little while ago. No one had eaten all day, and tempers were short as the dwarves moved about, making up camp, scrounging for dry firewood.
You were especially cold, lacking the thick skin that seemed to prevent all but the worst of the elements from affecting the dwarves. You watched as Bilbo huddled close to his pony, soaking up her warmth, while Bombur fought the damp wood. You decided you may as well be useful, and moved over to help the man. After several unsuccessful attempts, you looked over to the scribe of the journey.
“Ori?” You called to the scholar, who eagerly joined you. “Might we have some bits of spare parchment? The wood is just too wet from all this rain.” You shivered as a gust of wind whipped through your camp, and tugged your shawl closer around yourself. “Just one or two pieces should be enough to get a fire started.”
“Of course!” The young dwarf went to his bag and pulled out a few strips of parchment paper, happily handing them over for the sake of a fire. Soon enough, a small but growing flame was crackling merrily, and a quiet cheer went around the camp. While you had been fighting to create a bit of warmth, Kíli had been off tracking down a few rabbits for dinner, which he presented for Bombur to cook.
With bellies full and clothes drying, most of the company settled down for sleep. Bilbo was snuggled close to the fire, the poor hobbit still suffering from the chill. He sneezed a few times - you hoped he wasn’t coming down with a cold.
You were still rather chilled, yourself. Your clothes had been sopping wet just like the others’, and you’d shed more than was generally considered proper to let them dry. It left you shivering, no matter how close you sat to the flames. The wind was up and you’d never dealt with the cold well. You had a blessedly dry blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but it was not quite enough. You felt your forehead, fearing that rather than the hobbit, it might be you who was catching something.
You felt a presence at you back, and then all of a sudden, you were surrounded by a warm body - trousered legs stretched out on either side of yours, and two strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a burning chest.
“Cold, lass?” The voice, warmer than the fire, pressed against your ear. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold trailed down your spine.
“Fíli? What are you doing?” You were sure that your voice hadn’t been so high when you spoke to Ori just a while ago. His chest rumbled with a laugh, heating you from the inside out.
“Keeping you warm, of course. We can’t have our guest catching a chill, can we?” His arms tightened, and between the cage they made with his legs, and the chest against your back, you were starting to feel quite comfortable.
“You didn’t need to do this, though. I would have warmed up soon enough.”
“Aye, but I’d rather keep you warm myself. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked and leaned his chin against your shoulder, so that you could see his smiling face from the corner of your eye.
“Well, I suppose if it’s between you and the cold ground…” You teased, which earned another chuckle, the vibrations sending all thoughts of cold from your mind. “I appreciate the use of a warm dwarf body.” You turned your head to look at him, which he was clearly not expecting, since his lips remained to brush against your cheek. You blushed crimson while he smiled.
Originally written as a 2015 feelsforfili event submission. You can also find it on my Ao3.
She had never seen so many dwarves in one place. Laughing, talking, drinking, dancing, fighting - she waded through the sea of bodies, blinded by the bright clothes and shining gems. There were no familiar faces. She imagined most of these dwarves were those who had returned to Erebor from the Iron Hills, after the battle had been won. She had always hated being surrounded by strangers, and so as soon as she could, she made her way to the far edge of the feasting hall, where a set of steps led up to a balcony overlooking the festivities. This was where she was hiding, sipping on a glass of cool wine, when she heard someone call her name.
There he was, coming up to from the left. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she watched the dwarf approach. As he neared, she dropped into her best curtsy, one of the few things she remembered from her mother.
"Your highness," she began, only for him to interrupt her.
"Róa, please. It's always just Fíli with you." His smile was brighter than the gold that glittered in his hair and on his fingers. "I'm so glad you made it. You look..." He struggled for a moment, seeming unable to find the words. Róa took pity on him.
"It's so amazing to be back. Erebor is beautiful. I honestly didn't believe it could look like this, what with how it was before." She turned to look out over the hall once more. "Everyone seems to have settled in well."
"Aye, we have completely rebuilt everything that monster destroyed, and Thorin reopened the mines two years ago." Róa felt the air change as he leaned against the stone railing next to her, and she shifted enough to keep their arms from touching. She wasn't sure she could handle actual contact.
"How is Thorin? And your brother? I know Oin was having leg trouble when I left, has he recovered? What about--" His laughter cut her off, and she gave him a questioning look.
"Have you been worrying about us all this time?" he asked, grinning at her. She had to force herself to focus on something other than his mouth to answer.
"Of course I have. I can't trust you to stay out of trouble, I know better," she replied, trying to tease. He turned to look at her properly, and she thought her heart might very well break when his smile faded to a small frown.
"Then why did you leave?"
Róa was at a loss. It was a simple question, one that she could answer easily whenever she asked herself. To have Fíli ask left her breathless, and she found her voice had vanished. When he did not receive an answer, the expression on his face made Róa wish Smaug would return to swallow her up. She hated being responsible for his poorly-hidden disappointment, but was unsure of what to say to mend the air between them.
“I want to show you something.” He suddenly took her hand, and she found herself being dragged along the balcony. He pressed his hand to the stone wall at the end of the walkway. A blast of cool evening air blew back her loose hair as he led her out onto what he simply called a porch, but what looked to her to be a giant, open room carved into the side of the mountain. Stone pillars lit with torches lined the wall to either side of the door, and the railing that protected visitors from falling to their deaths. He tugged her over to the balustrade, pointing out across the dark landscape.
“You see those mountains there?” Róa squinted, but even with her decent night vision and the light of the moon, she saw nothing. He continued. “Neither can I, really. But I know they exist there, to the west, because we crossed them together once. We crossed the mountains and braved the wilds and fought side by side. You remember that, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember --” She stopped when he gripped her wrist, his face more serious than she had seen it since the battle.
“Why did you come here, Róa?” She frowned at him.
“You invited me for your name-day, you dolt.”
“Yes, but you haven’t come the last four years. Why now?”
“Because,” Róa began, then found herself without words once again. She had been sitting at home in Bree when she received the letter, just as she had four times before. The handwriting was the same, a bit messy, with R’s and K’s that leaned to the left, and M’s that could barely be read. She had told herself she wouldn’t come, only to pack a bag and invite Bilbo along for the trip. “I don’t even have an answer for myself, Fíli, so I don’t have one for you. I’m sorry. I should have just stayed home.” She tried to pull away, and his hold tightened.
“Róa, please, I am glad you came,” he said softly. She made a small noise, and he loosened his grasp, his hand instead moving up her arm. She shivered beneath the soft touch. “I am glad you came...and I would be very glad if you stayed.” Her gaze shot up, and she was reminded of just how close he was standing when she could see nothing but his eyes.
“Fíli?”
“I want you to stay here with me, Róa. I wanted to ask you before, after the battle. But you left so quickly…at first I feared you had fallen, until Bilbo told me you had headed back to the Greenwood with a group of elves.”
“I am sorry to have worried you.” Her mouth was dry, her voice just a whisper. She felt his fingers brush her cheek.
“I was just happy to know that you were safe. But I have missed you. That’s why I invited you, each year, to come for my name-day. I had hoped that we might--”
“Please stop,” she whispered, pulling away from him. She took a breath and closed her eyes, so she would not have to see the blond dwarf’s face. “Prince Fíli, I am nothing but a straggler your uncle’s company picked up along the way. I’m not even a proper dwarf. I just…” Her voice failed and she turned her back to him. She tried to ignore the way her heart ached as she squared her shoulders. “Please forget about me, as I have tried to forget you.”
“Róa.” Strong arms wrapped around her waist and a warm chest pressed against her back. “It matters not to me if your mother was a human. I wouldn’t care if you had no dwarf blood at all. All I care about is you.” He turned her around and cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face so that their gazes met. He smiled at her, and she marvelled at just how close in height they were. He was only a hair’s breadth taller.
“Fíli, I…” He silenced her with a soft brush of his lips against her own. His next words were barely a whisper.
“Come with me.”
-----
The bedroom of Erebor’s crown prince was not something she had ever thought to see in her life. It was grand, and big enough for her living room and kitchen combined. But it was sparsely decorated, with just a few rugs, a table and chairs, and a large bed. Weapons lined the walls on either side of the hearth. It was so like Fíli.
She was running her finger along the furs on the bed when she heard the door open again. Fíli entered, juggling a wine bottle and two glasses. He set it all down on the table and filled both glasses, offering one to Róa. She accepted with a shy smile and sipped slowly. She did not want to get drunk. Fili knocked back his own glass, and she felt his gaze as it traveled over her form. With her cheeks flushing pink, she sent him a look.
“Can I help you with something, prince?” He chuckled and gave her a cheeky grin. She thought her heart might burst - she was sure he could hear it pounding.
“Nothing at all, lass. It’s just that I don’t believe I have ever seen you in such...fitting clothing.” He set his glass down and stepped closer. “While we were fighting for the mountain, you wore trousers and a coat, like all of us. But this dress…” His fingers slid down her side, tracing the simple embroidery that disguised the stitching. “Where did you get it?”
“I made it.” She was regretting the tight bodice she had sewn. Her breath was coming shorter, and she wished she could loosen the strings binding her chest and stomach.
“It suits you.” He touched her hip. “You are beautiful, Róa.”
Róa took as deep a breath as she could manage and carefully set her glass aside, her hand trembling. She risked a glance at his face, and his expression sent shivers down her back. Heat began to collect in her stomach and spread through her blood like fire.
“Do you truly think so, Fíli?” she asked, reaching up to press a hesitant hand against his cheek. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth instead, his lips caressing her fingertips.
“I do. Would you allow me to prove it?” He placed both hands on her waist, lightly, and she could see the fear of rejection in his eyes. She smiled and leaned her head close to brush her mouth against his ear.
Imaginexhobbit response to the drabble request: “Imagine Bard telling you he isn’t good enough for you but you cut him off with a kiss and tell him you love him.”
You checked that the rain hadn’t leaked into the house, since you were still not quite used to proper windows again. As you watched the droplets collect on the glass, you looked out over the empty streets. Dale was quiet today - the late winter downpour had kept everyone inside, out of the chilly air. Only a few poor souls were left to walk about in the cold, and you hoped that they were heading home to sit before a warm fire.
From your house on top of the hill, you could see Erebor looming in the distance. In this weather, she was merely a dark mass in the mist, but you knew all too well what was truly there. And you knew that in just a little while, Bard would return with his children, whom he had taken to visit the company of dwarves. With that thought, you returned to the kitchen to finish cooking. They would be cold and hungry when they came home, you reasoned, and you wanted to be sure to make them comfortable.
Soon enough you heard the door open, the sound of heavy footsteps and soft curses reaching your ears. With a smile you set a lid over the cooking pot and made your way through the large house to the front room. Bard was just removing his coat and hanging it on the hook, water dripping down onto the floor. He kicked off his sopping boots and turned around, smiling when he saw you.
“Welcome home,” you said, glancing behind him at the closed door. “Where are the girls? And Bain?”
“It was so cold, I didn’t want to bring them all the way back,” Bard explained, moving over to stand in front of the fire, holding his hands towards the flames. “Thorin agreed to let them remain for the night. I’ll go and fetch them in the morning.”
“So it will just be the two of us tonight?” Your face heated at the thought. You shared a bed with the man each night, but you had never been truly alone with him. The children had always been nearby. You shook the impure thoughts from your mind and smiled. “Well, supper is ready. Come and warm up,” you insisted, taking his hand and pulling him into the kitchen. You sat him down at the table, pouring him a glass of wine.
You could feel Bard’s eyes on you as you puttered about the room, fixing up a plate and setting it down in front of him. When you went to move away, he grabbed your wrist to stop you. “Wait.”
You blink down at him and smile. “What is it, Bard? Is there something else you need?”
“No, nothing. I just...you know you don’t have to do all of this for me. For us,” he said quickly. “Living here and helping with the children, and the chores. You could have stayed in Erebor, or returned home. And I still don’t know why you chose me, there are other and better choices and I-”
You lean down and press your lips against the man’s open mouth, your hand brushing against his cheek. Once he begins to respond to the kiss, you pull away with a smile.
“Foolish king,” you scold, teasing. “I stay because I love you. I help because I love you. It makes me happy to make you smile.” You give him another quick kiss, before pulling away. “Now, eat everything your lovely woman has made for you. And afterwards, we can share dessert.”
A response to the imaginexhobbit request: “Imagine Kili kissing your tears away.”
The battle was over as quickly as it began. The screams, the shouts, the sound of steel on steel - suddenly it was gone, and in its wake, the loudest silence you have ever heard rang over the battlefield.
Slowly, sounds did begin again. The groans of the wounded drowned out the cheers of the victorious. People began moving, seeking companions, looking for friends, dragging the dead and dying to higher ground. You looked down at your blood-soaked shirt, the truth of it sinking in.
It was over. The enemy was retreating, the mountain was saved. And somewhere in this mess of death and horror, your love waited for you to find him.
You ran through the field, each dark head on the ground making your heart stop, until you saw that the face was wrong. You called for him, but your shouts went unanswered.
You found the King, injured but moving, and Dwalin and Balin, both free from serious injury. The others were not far off - Ori had a cut above his eye, and Gloín was wrapping a bandage around his calf. Even Fíli made his way to the bedraggled group, limping, but with a bright grin on his face.
“Hey, where’s Kíli?” he asked you.
“I can’t find him! He wasn’t with you?”
The second prince remained missing throughout the day. Each hour that passed saw the hollow void in your chest grow, your panic soar. Your voice was hoarse from calling his name. At midnight, Thorin called a halt.
“We will continue the search in the morning,” he told Fíli, giving you a sympathetic look over the blonde’s shoulder. “We all need food and sleep. We cannot continue as we are.”
“But, uncle…!”
“I am sorry, lad. He will have to last until the morrow.”
Fíli tried to comfort you, even as he struggled to accept the king’s command. You sent him on his way to rest and eat, and made your way out of the mountain. You climbed the remains of the stone wall you had built in preparation of the elves’ arrival, and slumped against the wall, holding your knees to your chest.
You tried not to cry, truly. You knew you had shed enough blood and tears over this damned mountain, and Kíli would have teased you if he’d seen you. Yet cry you did, sobbing quietly against your knees, the warm, salty liquid burning your cold cheeks.
The crunch of boots on gravel marked someone’s approach. You glanced beneath your arm, seeing a familiar set of shoes come to a stop beside you.
“I said I’m f-fine, Fíli,” you barked, more harshly than you intended. “Just go away.”
“If my brother’s done so much to anger you, it’s a good thing I’m not Fíli.”
Your head shot straight up, staring into the dark silhouette, a bright white smile visible even in the dim moonlight.
“Kíli!” You jumped to your feet and wrapped your arms around his neck, your sobs returning with a vengeance. Strong arms enveloped you in a comforting embrace, and a chin rested on the top of your head.
“Peace, girly. I’m sorry I made you worry,” he murmured, his voice rumbling against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You know I would not have left you like that.” You sniffled and pulled away to look up at him.
“But you...we couldn’t find you, Kíli. What, where did you...why…” He placed a finger against your lips.
“Not even Mahal could keep me from you, love.” He leaned forward, his mouth just barely brushing against your cheeks, and when he pulled away you could see the remains of your tears glistening on his lips. “Forgive me?”
This username is now the second blog for AkiRaen. I’ll repost all of my Hobbit drabbles to this new account over the next few days, and any Hobbit-related works I create will be posted here.
