Moodboard for my Bagginshield-in-the-Shire fanfic,
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Thorin was closed and quiet, bent low under the weight of Fíli and Kíli’s memory. For his two weeks in the Shire, he had never spoken of them, never mentioned their names, never told Bilbo how they had died—but the evening before the Dwarves were set to leave, the walls that Thorin had set up around himself began to crumble.











