I always liked the shots and art of Thorin in the forge, I like the idea that despite being of the highest royal birth, when trouble struck, he didn't consider it unworthy to work as hard as he could for his family. And I think this is the best thing we can do, even if we suddenly fail, to try even better. It motivates.
I imagine that these moments could have been during the times when he worked as a blacksmith. But much more I like the idea that he survived the Battle of the Five Armies, left the kingdom to Fili and Balin and settled in the Shire with his hobbit. I think blacksmiths would be very useful there too. Then it’s clear who came into his forge, since he smiles so joyfully.
Summary: There’s a new blacksmith in your village. Set before the quest to Erebor.
Fandom: The Hobbit (Thorin x reader)
Genre: lil fluff, angst at the end.
A/N: I just want to say BIG thank you for the response of pt1, really warmed my heart! I’m not too sure on this part but hopefully you guys will like it. Let me know what you think!
Part1 Part2 Part3
It’s been two days since your interaction with Thorin, and you have been avoiding the dwarf since. You pass the blacksmith’s store again, the metal work stops, willing you to look over. But for the third day you carry on walking with your head held high. You know it’s childish but if Thorin wants to act like an infant then so can you.
By midday, the noises coming from the blacksmith’s store get louder and louder. You don’t know what’s making Thorin so angry but you cannot focus on the intricate flower work, when every five minutes there’s a clash of metal and curses in Khuzdul, that break your concentration.
You sigh and take your first glance towards the stall. You see Thorin taking his anger out on the iron in front of him. He seems lost in his own world, and you dread to think who he’s thinking of as he strikes the sword harshly. Had you really made him this angry?
“Good day Y/N.” A soft voice greets you, just as you’re about to take your lunch break. You look up and see Thorin standing in front of you. He seems somewhat nervous, shifting on his feet.
“Thorin.” You nod at him, going back to your work. You hear him sigh at your cold response and from the corner of your eye see him run a hand through his long hair.
“You look lovely today.” You scoff at his obvious flattery, did he really think after a few compliments you were going to be friendly with him? You put down your tools and decide to confront him instead of carrying on this strenuous conversation.
“Flattery will get you nowhere Thorin.” You say finally looking up at him. “Before you give me an explanation to our previous encounter, I understand that in dwarven culture, gifts are seen as romantic gestures. When I gave you the flower I had simply meant it as a welcoming gift, in the hope of a blossoming friendship. If you wanted to reject any romantic notion there was no need to do it so cruelly.”
“Y/N you misunderstand, I would never reject you.” He says taking a hold of your hand. You try to ignore the implication that he’s ready to court you or the way your hand fits perfectly in his or the wistful gaze he gives you. Instead you focus on fighting the blush forming on your face.
“Excuse me Y/N, have you dried those flowers I gave you?” A customer asks behind Thorin, and you thank Mahal for the distraction. In front of you Thorin sighs in defeat and you feel a tug at you heart, feeling sorry for him.
“If you meet me after the day’s work then we can take a walk and you’ll be able to explain. But I have a lot of work to do now.” You say softly, moving away from him and attending to the man. Your lunch long forgotten.
“Thank you Y/N, I won’t let you down!” He calls and jogs back to his store.
Once you finish with the customer you see Thorin coming back to you with a parcel in his hands. “I realise I took up your lunch break, and I know you usually go out to eat, probably to avoid me, but I brought you something, so you don’t have to wait till the end of the day.” He says holding out the parcel he’d gotten from the bakery. Stunned, you take it from his hands and open it up to see a wide range of different pastries. “I-uh didn’t know which ones you like so I got a selection just in case.”
You’re amazed by his kind gesture, you hadn’t expected him to be so thoughtful especially since you’ve been avoiding him. “Thank you Thorin, you didn’t have to.” You thank him with a kiss on his cheek, giggling when he turns red. Thorin grins at you, bowing before going back to his store.
“I believe I owe you an explanation m’lady.” Thorin breaks the silence, taking a deep breath, as the two of you walk along the river bank. You smile at him and give a soft nod allowing him to continue. “I have been travelling with my kin around Middle Earth ever since our home, Erebor, was taken from us by the dragon Smaug.”
Your eyes go wide and sorrowful, you had chosen to leave your hometown and lead a life of travel, but their home was ripped away from them, you couldn’t imagine what that must’ve felt like. Before you could offer any form of sympathy Thorin averted his gaze to the river, lost in thought as he carried on.
“There was so much fire and destruction, we had lost so much and in our time of need King Thranduil, our ally, turned their back to us as we begged for his help. I will never forget nor forgive the cruelty the elves showed us that day.” He spits out. His entire presence is tense and you take his clenched fist into yours, easing your hand into his. When he looks over at you, his eyes soften slightly, squeezing your hand, and guiding you to a nearby bench.
“When I finally plucked up the courage to talk to you, I didn’t mean to be so rude. But when you spoke so fondly of the elves my anger got the better of me.” He looks down at your entwined hands, avoiding your eyes in fear of your reaction. “They have taken away my home, I don’t want them to manipulate you too.”
You take his face into your hands, looking directly into his eyes. Making sure he knows how much apologetic you are. “I am so sorry this has happened to you Thorin, and I can’t even begin to comprehend the pain you’ve been through. And whilst your anger towards the Mirkwood elves, is fair and expected, you cannot tar all elves with the same brush.” You say carefully.
“What are you saying Y/N, these people looked on whilst my people died trying to save their home! They don’t deserve an ounce of my respect!” He sits back furiously.
“The Silvan elves took me in when I had no home Thorin! Be angry at the Woodland Realm but don’t blame the rest for the actions of their kin.”
“You know nothing of this, I should have never told you. I thought you would understand but clearly I was wrong.” He says turning away from you. You scoff at his remarks getting up from the bench, ready to take your leave.
“You’re not even sorry for destroying my gift are you? All because it came from a place where elves happen to live? You are unbelievable, Thorin Oakenshield.” You grit out walking off.
“Of course I’m sorry! You’re my One for Mahal’s sake!” His statement stops you dead in your tracks.
As angry as you are, you can’t help but feel a warmth in your heart. You know a little about true love in dwarvish culture, and the pull you have towards Thorin is finally explained. But the way he said it. Does he feel stuck with you? Does he curse the Valar for pairing the two of you together?
“It’s not the elves who push me away from you, Thorin. It’s yourself.” You whisper, walking away from the dwarf who had yet again made you cry.
Summary: There’s a new blacksmith in your village. Set before the quest to Erebor.
Fandom: The Hobbit (Thorin x reader)
Genre: I hope I’ve made it fluffy
Warnings: None
A/N: Hi guys I’ve been ill so this update is a lil late. Shoutout to @thorins-magnificent-ass for helping me sort Thorin out and @mbaku-babygirl for final help. This is the final part of The Blacksmith, hope it’s a good ending for everyone! Let me know what you think and thank you for reading! :)
Part1 Part2 Part3
Your head is buzzing with questions as you sit up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. Does Thorin not want you as his One? Does his grudge against elves stretch out to all races? Will Thorin reject you? Your heart aches at the thought, as much as you hate Thorin’s behaviour you can’t help but want to help him, to know what makes him so upset and to spend your life with him. You scream into your pillow, in frustration.
“Y/N!” You hear someone shout faintly. Jolting up you move to your window, wishing you won’t see Thorin. Much to your dismay the dwarf stands outside your house and before you can act like you didn’t see nor hear him, Thorin spots you. “Y/N I’m sorry! Pease open the door and let me explain.”
“No Thorin. I think you’ve done enough explaining for the night. And keep your voice down, people are trying to sleep.” You hiss, becoming irritant.
“I understand you’re angry, but please just hear me out. I’ll continue shouting for you if you don’t open the door.” He calls back. This insolent little dwarf! Just as he’s about to open his mouth to shout your name again you hurry to the door and open it, coming face to face with Thorin.
“May I come in?” He asks sheepishly.
“No you may not. You should count yourself lucky that I’m even listening to you dwarf. I don’t take kindly to folk who disrespect me.” You grit out, your arms crossed against your chest. Thorin sighs and rakes a hand through his raven hair.
“I suppose you’re right. Mahal, my mother would be turning in her grave if she saw the impression I’ve made to my One.” He chuckles, and sighs when he sees your stoic expression.
“I’m sorry Y/N. My behaviour towards you has been brash, and I regret trying to push you away from me.”
“That’s what you were trying to do?!” You shout in disbelief. “Here I am thinking I am not good enough for you, when all along you were purposely pushing me away! You have some nerve Thorin Oakenshield.” You seethe, slamming the door in his face. “Go away Thorin.” You yell, when you don’t hear his retreating footsteps.
“I’m not leaving till you hear me out Y/N. I know I’ve done wrong. I regret all of it, but I was afraid.” You hear his meak voice behind the door. “I have lost so much. I have lost my grandfather, my father, my brother and many of my kin in such little time. I have gone from Prince, Heir of the Lonely Mountain, to an unknown traveller taking work as a blacksmith. I have lead my people into war and suffered the consequences. I’ve lost everything.” He whispers quietly into the night, and you strain your ears to hear his words.
“The moment I saw you working away on your flowers, hair glowing in the moonlight I knew you were my One. I’ve gone most of my life believing I would never find true love, that when I did find you I was scared.” Your heart aches when you hear his broken voice. Slowly you get up and open the door, hearing Thorin scramble up.
“I thought we’d both be better off if I pushed you away. You’d find someone worthy of your love and I wouldn’t have to lose another person in my life. But it’s been killing me.” He says, looking into your eyes. “I can’t take seeing you but not being able to hold you. Just from watching you from afar I’ve realised why the Valar paired us together, Y/N. I’m so sorry I can only hope you will give me another chance to get to know you properly, to show you that I’m not as ignorant as I’ve made myself to be.”
You stand there for a moment, the warmth in your heart spreading as you see this vulnerable side Thorin is showing you. The conflict and anger slowly subsiding, you feel yourself nod in answer to Thorin’s desperate plea.
“If you mess this chance I’m giving you Thorin, you will never hear from me again.” You warn him, but the smile on his face only grows wider as he lifts your hands to his lips.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less Amrâlimê. I shall let you sleep, tomorrow is a new beginning.”
Whether it be small conversations on busy days or having dinner together you and Thorin have spent everyday in each others company for the past three weeks. You’ve gotten to know each other more, Thorin opening up about being a leader to his people and telling you stories of his sister and nephews. In return, he listened intently to your travelling tales and you quickly realised that elves were still off the table. Nevertheless, the more time you spend with the dwarf the deeper your feelings go.
You’re closing down your stall in the market as the day draws to an end, and make your way to the blacksmith’s to meet Thorin for dinner. As you near the store, you hear murmuring and see Thorin talking to himself, holding something shiny in his hand. “Thorin?” You ask and he jumps up looking at you startled, a faint blush on his cheeks that makes you giggle.
“Y/N! I was just closing down.”
“What have you got there?” You ask pointing to the object he’s fidgeting with in his hands.
“Mahal I wanted to do this later.” You frown when you hear him mutter to himself. “Uh- Y/N I-I wanted to say that you were right. That day by the river, your words have haunted me every night since you spoke them.” You take a seat next to his workbench and Thorin joins you, shifting nervously.
“The Mirkwood elves have wronged me and my people. For a long time I have blamed the elves for all my misfortunes and I’ve never had anyone tell me otherwise. So when you did confront me on my stubborness it shocked me to say the least.” He chuckles and you smile at his change of mind. “I realise that I was wrong and you were right, which is something I’ll have to get used to, my hatred to elves should just stop at the Mirkwood elves. If anything I should thank the Silvan elves for looking after my One.” He pauses before placing the mysterious object into your hands.
“I’m a stubborn dwarf Y/N and sometimes I wish we could’ve met in a different age. One where I could spoil you in gold and jewels, grant you protection and security and propose with lavish gifts. I have nothing left to offer but myself. But if you’ll have me, I vow to do right by you. I care for you deeply Y/N, you are my One, my soul mate. May I have the honour of courting you?”
Thorin takes his hands away from yours revealing a handcrafted posy holder, shaped into the flower you had given him when the two of you first met. Your heart swells and your eyes begin to water, as you look over the intricate metal work and imagine the different flowers you could wear constantly with this brooch.
Niphredil. The flowers that grow in the Golden Woods of Lothlorien. A place held dear to the elven race, this is the flower Thorin has chosen to court you with. The symbolism and meaning behind the gift renders you speechless and you can’t imagine the hours of work Thorin has poured over it. This single gift encaptures not only your passion for nature but the love you have for elves, and Thorin was embracing it.
You gaze up at the dwarf in front of you, love and adoration fill you as you meet his topaz eyes. “I don’t need gems and gold to be with you Thorin, they pale in comparison to your affections. I love you for your selfless devotion to your kin, and your need to protect those you love. Not your wealth, nor your title.” You whisper, cupping his cheek and smiling at each other. “Thank you Thorin, thank you so much, words cannot express how much this means to me. I love you Thorin Oakenshield.”
“Amralizi nungê, you hold my heart and soul Y/N. I will forever be yours.” Wiping away the joyous stray tears from your cheeks Thorin leans in brushing his lips against yours softly, you drift towards him deepening the kiss. His kiss is heart-stopping, engulfing you into a gentle touch you don’t expect from a dwarf king. In this moment, you feel every drop of Thorin’s devotion and as your lips move in sync the connection is amplified as if your hearts beat to a single rhythm, lost in your own bubble.
Summary: There’s a new blacksmith in your village. Set before the quest to Erebor.
Fandom: The Hobbit (Thorin x reader)
Genre: idek lil fluff lil angst?
Warnings: None
A/N: Hi this is my first ever fic let alone my first ever Thorin fic. I’m throwing myself in and doing a mini series probably three parts to this. Let me know what you think!
Part1 Part2 Part3
It’s a hot summer’s day in the small village of Combe. You had settled in Bree-Land after travelling alone for most of your life, and started your own florist using a collection of flowers from your travels around Middle Earth. The village was quaint and friendly, yet you couldn’t help but miss the adventure of your previous life and whilst it was nice to be surrounded by your own kind, you missed meeting different folk and learning new cultures.
You’re heading to the market with a bouquet of flowers in your hand, when you hear the familiar clashing of metal. The village hadn’t had a blacksmith for a few weeks now, but there was no news that a new one was in town. You pass the blacksmith’s busy store, the men of the village getting their swords refurbished. Sighing you get back to your own stall and start watering all your flowers for a long day’s work.
As you’re finishing up with a customer, you notice that the crowds had dispersed from the blacksmith’s store and you finally get a chance to see this popular man.
However, you soon find that it’s no man behind the workshop, but a dwarf. You stand enthralled by his rugged features, his wet raven hair dances with him as he strikes the metal. Glistening in sweat his shirt sticks to him, in the heat of the sun and furnace, and you can see the way his biceps ripple with every blow.
When you look back up you find him staring intently at you. Your face grows hot and your eyes widen knowing you have just been caught, but you couldn’t break away from his intense gaze. Smirking at you, he casually peels off his wet tunic and wipes his broad chest with it, before throwing it to one side, revealing his toned torso covered in scars, and you feel your face burn bright red as his eyes stay locked with yours.
Not willing to give him the satisfaction of your reaction you shake your head and smile to yourself as you arrange the flowers and talk to customers. Trying your best not to look back at the shirtless blacksmith who was teasing you.
It’s nearing the end of the day and most people are closing down for the night. You’re too engrossed in your work but assume that the blacksmith had closed earlier on, the market seems peaceful without the constant noise of metal work. You light a lamp to give you some light so you can work on pressing some niphredil.
“They look beautiful m’lady.” A voice speaks out, making you jump and curse the Valar. You look up to find the blacksmith standing in front of you, he’s put his tunic back on and looks amused at your reaction. “I apologise, I did not mean to frighten you.” His deep, rugged voice makes you shiver, and again you wonder who this mysterious dwarf is.
“It’s quite alright,” you reassure him with a soft laugh “I’m Y/N L/N.” You stick your hand out for him to shake.
“Thorin Oakenshield at your service.” He takes your hand and presses a soft, lingering kiss on your knuckles, all the while never breaking eye contact with you. You lose yourself in his blue eyes, your lips slightly part when you feel his lips brush against your skin. What is happening to you? Clearing your throat you pull your hand back and turn your attention to the flowers, still feeling Thorin’s eyes on you.
You pick a niphredil from the bouquet and hold it out for him to take, “Please, think of it as a welcoming gift.” You say, stopping him from giving you any money. You shiver again when your hands touch as he takes the flower from you. He holds the niphredil with a gentle touch, you wouldn’t have thought a blacksmith would possess.
“Where is it from?” He asks whilst smelling the flower.
“I travelled to Lothlorien, and the elves were kind enough to let me pick them from the Golden Wood.”
Thorin’s placid expression suddenly turns sour and his entire body tenses, you wonder what you said that brought such a change to his mood! His fist clenches and the niphredil crumples in his clutch.
“Thorin?” You whispered, focused on the dead flower in his hand, tears forming in your eyes. Thorin follows your gaze to the crushed flower still clenched in his fist, he drops the flower into the mud as if it burns him and storms off into the night, without looking back.
Tears streak your face as you begin to clear the stall. Seeing the precious flower crumpled in the mud fills you with hurt. You have always had a special connection with nature and know the importance the Golden Wood plants hold to the Silvan elves traditions. But what really stings is that Thorin had thrown away a gift you had given to him. You had thought that gifts were special in dwarven culture and had hoped that Thorin would have appreciated the gesture. Instead he had disrespected you without an explanation.
Why did you feel a pull to the rude dwarf? You sigh and wipe your eyes, pushing your thoughts away and close the stall for the night. You vow to yourself that tomorrow you won’t even take a glimpse at the blacksmiths store let alone talk to the insolent dwarf who worked there.
