Hi,I really love the way you write Thorin when he’s under the dragon sickness.and was just wondering if you can possibly write something with Thorin who’s under the dragon sickness and pregnant reader running away from Thorin because reader couldn’t stand see him sick and suffering.but Thorin comes looking for reader but under the proses of looking for reader he som how snaps out of it?
MORE PRECIOUS THAN GOLD|THORIN OAKENSHIELD X WIFE!READER|PT.2
(A/N: Hello lovely! Using this as the prompt for the second part that everyone has been asking me for, tysm of that by the way. Hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!)
WARNINGS: Thorin's dragon sickness, greed, mentions of smut, possessive behaviour, accusations of cheating, etc.
What's Playing: "Would You Fall In Love With Me Again" ~EPIC the Musical
"Where is my Queen." Thorin's eyelids were heavy as he looked from one Dwarf to another. They all glanced at each other with relative discomfort as to their king's state. However that didn't change Thorin's annoyance. "I asked where my Queen is."
Again his kin remained silent, not wanting to enrage their king with the truth. Yet he wasn't satisfied with their lack of response. He stood from his throne to intimidate them all with his anger, he hadn't trusted them in a long while, now they were keeping you from him? What kind of conspiracy was this? Thorin might have been angry by your defiance but he was sure that you were over your tantrum by now, ready to be the Queen and wife he needed you to be. You were still carrying his heir after all, no amount of stubbornness on your part could change that. You knew that he just said things when he was angry, knew that he did care for you if you decided to stay in line and just do as you were told.
"Will someone answer me, or will you all be cowards?"
Balin sighed, not wanting to beat around the bush any longer. More than Thorin's downfall, the destruction of the marriage was more devastating to them all. They'd watched their king fall in love, have his heart softened when the dragon had almost turned it to stone. To lose it like this...and for what? Gold and greed. "She left, Thorin. Some days ago."
"What do you mean, left? My wife wouldn't leave my mountain especially not when pregnant with my child and heir."
Dwalin couldn't take any more of Thorin's arrogance, scoffing he turns to his life-long companion. "How could she not when you drove her away you- you- lulkh-"
Thorin bristled at the insult. "How dare you speak to your king like this-"
"The Thorin who treats his wife such is no king of mine. You once would melt the sun in your forges for her if Mahal allowed it. Yet now you treat her like a buzzing pest. I don't blame the lass for leaving, if anything it's a wonder we don't start doing the same." Dwalin storms off, despite Thorin's angry calls for him to return to his side and explain himself.
The king waves him off. "Let him rant and rage like a hulking beast, that doesn't bring my Queen back. She can't have gone far, all of you must cover as much ground as possible if we are to bring her back by sundown. Her time is near and being on her own will put my son in danger." He takes in how none of his kin make a move to follow his commands, and while silent, they all plainly show their agreement with Dwalin's words, irritating Thorin further. "Very well, if none of you will stand by your king and ensure the safety of the Queen and heir apparent then I will get her myself."
"I'm sure she doesn't want to see you, Thorin." Balin calls after him as he storms out of the halls.
"It matters not, she will see me. Explain herself. If she thinks she can avoid her husband then she's sorely mistaken."
The doors to what was once your shared chamber were thrown open as Thorin shrugged out of his ornate royal robes to something more suited for riding. Important as you were the gold inlaid in his fine clothing was far more precious, he wouldn't have it getting dirty or damaged. Even putting on his robes of before felt vile to him, a reminder of what had passed, when he was still a Dwarf lord and not a king. Yet it was still his best option for travel.
He turned towards the polished gold pane to examine his reflection, making sure that even in this attire he looked every bit as regal and divine. A sign to the mortal men who was their superior.
As he stared he noticed something on the bed, causing him to turn. There on the plush furs he used to lay you out on were the precious possessions that he'd given you on various occasions. Nothing but clutter compared to what he could give you now, but that didn't soften the insult that you would not only leave, but try to rid him of your memory completely. As if he were just someone to forget, move on from. Thorin's blood boiled with indignation as he pulled on his boots again and stormed out of the room towards the stables.
You had a lot to answer for.
Thorin knew exactly where you were hiding. You weren't foolish enough to wander the wilds on your own with no provisions and so heavy with child ready to pop at any moment. The city of Dale was the perfect place, there with your kind, attempting to blend in. Yet he prided himself in being able to pick you out of a crowd, his marriage braid in your hair always prominent for any leering men to be scared off and making you distinct in a sea of many.
Still, he couldn't seem to find you. At first, Thorin didn't want to ask about your whereabouts, wanting to save himself the embarrassment of admitting that his wife had strayed from him and wandered off to the refuge of others. He didn't want to appear weak, like he couldn't even handle his own house, much less a mighty Dwarven kingdom. However when the sun continued to dip lower in the sky, Thorin's anxiousness in finding you increased.
"You there, boy. Where is the Queen?"
The lad just scampered off, not wanting to be in the presence of the hostile king a moment longer.
So it was the same with any he encountered, he knew they resented his great wealth compared to their now poor living, but that wasn't an excuse to keep you from him. Soon he got desperate, asking everyone he possibly could for you whereabouts, needing to know that you were safe back in the mountain where you belonged. Where he could keep you close. Maybe he should even lock you in the treasure room, make sure all his possessions couldn't be tampered with or taken from him.
"You, Bowman, where is my wife. I know you Lakemen are hiding her but I demand to see her."
Bard sets down the basket he was carrying. "Your wife doesn't want to see you, Thorin King, she'd rather have your child alone than be in the presence of you a moment longer."
The world seemed to still. "It's a filthy lie, now? My wife- my son-...now?"
"I would have assumed you paid close attention to when your own wife was due as I did with my three children. Or were you too busy counting coins?"
Thorin ignores the barb, irrelevant at a time like this. "Where is she, I must see her-"
"What makes you think I should help you? You haven't even delivered on your promise."
"I will and all you desire, I need- I must see my wife."
Bard had been burned by Thorin once before, but he desperately needed that gold to help his people survive. "Very well, I'll tell you."
Thorin collided with one of the town's midwives as she left the room where you lay alone, screaming in pain. "My wife-"
"Doesn't want to see you." She resolutely stands in front of the door, glaring at the much shorter Dwarf who would treat his own wife in such a manner.
"But she is giving birth I must-"
"Stay out of the way, once the child is born I will ask if the lady wants to see you, until then I can't have your presence upsetting her. Unless you want a complication and risk the life of both mother and child."
It was the last thing Thorin wanted, so he reluctantly steps aside, leaning against the wall and stewing in his anger. How could you have done this? Left and then had his child in a city of Men rather than the Dwarven halls where all the kings were born. At least then he could have been there with you, instead of thrown out like an intruder. If he put the child in you he should at least be permitted to see it come out.
You would be getting an earful when this was all over, he swore it.
Hours pass, each more tense than the last as Thorin listens to your screams. What could be going on in there? Why wasn't the child coming? Would you die in childbirth like so many had? He was getting restless, agitated with the need to see his heir in the flesh and know that his line and gold was secure. What was taking so long.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity a sharp cry and your sobs breaks through the now night stillness. It's so intense it makes Thorin stand, waiting at the door to be let in. Surely you wouldn't deny him his own child.
Murmurs go on from within until the wooden door is finally opened. "If you distress her, king or not, I will have you removed." The midwife warns.
Thorin acknowledges with a brief nod before stepping in. He marches over, ready to give you an earful for your rebellion. But the moment that he settles his eyes on the face of his child, something within him shatters.
All the need to possess, the greed, the lust for gold, is dimmed by the divine beauty of the little pink face in your arms. A fierce protectiveness rises within him, something so powerful he'd never felt before. Thorin's gaze turns to your face, damp with sweat and your hair clinging to your forehead. He'd never seen something so beautiful.
"Sasakhabiya abnâmul, amrâlimê." He'd said it to you so many times in the past you knew what it meant without asking, but that didn't stop you from tearing up, thinking you'd never hear those words again.
"Is it you? Has my husband come home to me once more?"
He kneels at your side, on the makeshift cot that should have been the comfort of the royal chambers, with him by your side. Without the tension and despair he'd caused looming over this moment. "Yes my jewel. After all this pain, my darkness and greed has been lifted from me." He takes one of your hands in his, kissing it tenderly. "I was a fool, blind to the most precious of treasures, right here in front of me. I caused my One pain, when I should have cherished her above all, above the Arkenstone itself. For that I have no excuse. I have failed you as husband, as king," Thorin brushes a lock of hair out of your face, letting his hand linger on your cheek. "As lover. I don't even deserve to beg for your forgiveness. Yet I still do, as a Dwarf so unworthy of such a divine creature, a Dwarf who threw away the divine gift that Mahal had given him, I beg the forgiveness of my gem, my jewel of jewels, my sunshine and joy of joys. Would you fall in love with me again, amrâlimê?"
Your tears flow, freely as you realize your husband had come back to you, that he was no longer last. "I will fall in love with you over and over again. As many time as it takes, for the rest of our lives."
Overcome with joy, Thorin presses his lips to yours, the world finally seeming right. When he finally pulls away, he looks into your eyes. "I will strive to make myself worthy of such forgiveness."
You release your hand from his to run your fingers over his beard, staring into the eyes you fell in love with. "Would you like to hold your son?"
"My son..." He stares back into the tiny face, feeling richer now than with mountains of gold. "Mahal be praised."
summary — in which y/n greenhand, a hobbit, is betrothed to thorin oakenshield
word count — 2.2k
warnings — 18+ MDNI, smut
author’s note — the timeline may not be completely accurate, but it’s smut so you’re welcome.
the halls of erebor were replenished and repopulated. the mountain was how it was years before the ghastly beast, smaug's, unfortunate rule of terror and chaos. one little hobbit changed the course of history for a lineage of dwarves. although some dwarves were laid to rest after the battle of five armies, their home was reclaimed and now prosperous. the neighboring village of dale was also brought back to glory. each place was newly thriving and peaceful.
the king under the mountain, though permanently scarred and sporting a limp when walking, was healthy and more apt to appreciate life. this did not mean he lost his gruff demeanor or stubbornness, or even his sharp tongue, but maybe it stuck to him because of the loss of his nephews. thorin, three times a year, made trips to see his hobbit friend in the shire. though thorin found himself wanting to visit for a secondary reason to seeing mr. bilbo baggins. bilbo had acquired a housemaid, though she did much more than housekeeping. she tended the gardens, made all his meals, filled his smoking pipe, listened to his stories, organized his writing area, and even made good use of bilbo’s treasured artifacts by displaying them in his study room.
she was in her mid-thirties when bilbo returned on his unexpected journey; for a hobbit, she was just now considered to be an adult. she aided bilbo in placing his belongings back in his home when the other hobbits declared his death. oh, dear bilbo loved her company. she wouldn’t talk unless spoken to because she never wanted to ruin his thought process, and the moments he wanted to talk, she made wonderful and hearty conversation. the mighty and noble dwarven king could see his closed heart opening again when he visited the burglar of the company. she made tasty meals and the most comfortable sleeping arrangements. the night mr. baggins had company; she would stay the entire night to ensure everyone had what they needed. she was very attentive to her work, and maybe that was because bilbo paid her handsomely, or maybe it was because she truthfully had a passion for her work for the elder hobbit. the past ten years, not only was thorin writing to mr. baggins, but he was also corresponding with y/n greenhand, the attentive she-hobbit working for bilbo baggins.
y/n greenhand's family, in hint to their last name, grew the most gorgeous gardens in the shire. they were employed to fill every pot with their full and plentiful flowers and to spiffy the gardens of everyone without a green thumb. when y/n wasn’t with bilbo she was gardening with them. some flowers were even transported to different villages. bilbo was proud of his so-called housemaid. when he sat in front of his hobbit hole smoking his pipe, and a neighbor would greet him, he would proudly ask and proclaim, “and did you see my flowers this season? they are even more beautiful than the last. mmm yes, miss y/n planted them for me.”
thorin, on his first visit back to the shire, once his recovery was fully complete, suspected that bilbo had married, but the hobbit insisted he had no time to be attached to a particular someone. the dwarf was silently delighted to know bilbo didn’t take miss greenhand as a wife. she was well, very beautiful, and capable. capable must have been the right word. no other nonsense words would fall into thorin’s mind, well until he asked for her hand in marriage. and even that was another ten years before he stopped debating with the stubbornness inside of his aged mind. bilbo may have given thorin a push, but the dwarf would never admit to the truth behind that.
speaking of nonsense, the backstory of how thorin was stubborn is no new information. what is new information? the fact that is he a wonderful lover.
y/n laid her head back in the large wooden bathing tub, inhaling the steam that was rising from the water. she pushed a strand of loose hair that escaped her bun behind her slightly pointed ear. much like thorin, she had a full day of work at the kingdom tending to the children. even being a ruler still meant hard work, but y/n never cared much, seeing as she spent her life in the shire employed. thorin had been spending lots of his time in the mines, forging and hammering. he oversaw the production and efficiency of the dwarves. the trade of dwarven products continued to allow the kingdom to grow.
there was no knock as thorin entered, making y/n sink further into the bath water until noticing it was her beloved. her arms were crossed instinctively to cover her chest until the dwarf put his calloused hands on the edge of the tub. she ran her finger across his knuckles.
“still modest after all this time, my queen?” thorin asked, pressing his mouth to the top of her year when he spoke.
y/n gave a gentle chuckle. her hands were now pawing at his salt and peppered hair. many years ago, it wasn’t as grey as it once was, but thorin wore it gracefully. his beard was in matching fashion with the grey streaks.
“i have to leave something to mystery,” she leaned her head against his mouth, feeling a kiss being placed on her pointed ear.
“is it a mystery if i have it memorized?” he said coyly, reaching his hands into the water to move her hands away from her chest. his hands began massaging her shoulders, pushing his thumbs into any hard spots he felt to allow y/n to relax further.
y/n lifted her head and began to push herself out of the water. thorin backed up but offered his hand to help the hobbit out of the bathwater. he stared longingly at her, wanting to be greedy and consume all of her. he began pulling off his layers of cloaks and furs so he could match her splendor. his hands quickly found her waist, each of them having a bit of extra pudge from overindulging in drinks and food in celebration of their kingdom.
his rough beard rubbed across her cheek as her fingers lingered in his chest hair. he began kissing her jawline; the many times before that he had done this same action could never compare to redoing it each time they were intimate. he was breathing in her fresh scent of florals and bath milk that she had previously soaked in. occasionally, he would drag his tongue across her neck and lightly nip at it, causing y/n to bring herself closer to the dwarf.
her eyes were closed, already submitting to the king. it was easy to succumb to thorin when he had so much sex appeal. the way he moved his hands, hell, the way he stared was enough to make any woman crumble, but y/n was his lucky match. y/n grabbed his face when he continued his kisses past her shoulders. thorin understood this, immediately connecting their lips instead.
he pushed his hips against hers just to have contact with his significant other. y/n could feel thorin’s cock bulging as their kissing continued. before she knew it her back was hitting the soft furs on the bed. thorin was spreading her legs eagerly, his fingers dragging against her inner thigh as his mind was immersed in the beauty before him. y/n picked her head up excitedly, knowing the next step as she saw his fingers come closer to her heat. she bit the inside of her mouth still watching until he made eye contact.
“think i’ll do something wrong?” he questioned, spitting directly into her cunt. y/n leaned back, as though she hadn’t risen at all in the first place.
“of course not, just curious.” y/n said, her face flushing red as his fingers massaged the spit into her folds.
“curious? you don’t remember what happens next?” thorin asked, only pushing one finger inside. the hobbit swallowed her spit, not wanting to say a word. she only wanted what was next, what she knew was next.
“i seem to have forgotten.” he teased; another finger went inside. his working hands were so rough yet so delicate they knew how to please. as they moved back and forth slowly, y/n wiggled uncomfortably on the bed, wanting him to accelerate his movements. they then stopped.
“what am i supposed to do after my fingers were inside of you, darling?” thorin asked, now putting his fingers against her plump lips and asking for entrance. y/n took them in her mouth, allowing him to control the speed at which they slid back and forth. he placed his finger back against her lips to permit her to speak.
“you put your cock inside me.” y/n said. thorin was leaning over her, looking deeply into her eyes as she answered. he shook his head and clicked his tongue.
“wrong,” he stated, holding her chin tightly and going in for another kiss. y/n’s hands moved into his thick locks of hair and then to his erection. she was careful not to agitate the old, deep scar on his abdomen as she found her way to his shaft, but thorin stopped her. “what comes next?” he demanded, loosening her hair from the bun so he could later plan to grab it.
“you put your head between my legs,” she said, exhaling shakily. her mind was fuzzy only wanting her husband to get to his routine quickly so she could enjoy the pleasure he gave.
thorin gave a sly smirk, placing a single kiss on her lips and then making himself comfortable between her legs. his hands were gripping her waist, his elbows already in a position to open her legs if she were to shut them because she squirmed. he enjoyed himself each time he was feasting upon her womanhood. her wetness engulfing his taste buds and dripping down his beard was the right combination to give him satisfaction. messy good fun was had for thorin as he explored the cunt of his queen. lapping at her juices and suckling her clit to hear the moans spill from her mouth.
the moment thorin decided he was done he wiped his face on his hairy forearm and pulled her legs to his shoulders while inserting his shaft. y/n’s mouth was agape as the dwarven king entered her. that was never a feeling she would ever get used to. thorin was well endowed and knew the proper usage to send pleasure coursing through her body. y/n gripped his arms tightly as he thrust into her. filling every ounce of her being with his rock-hard erection was causing the bed to rattle as he moved. thorin was cursing under his breath about how tight the hobbit was. sweat was beading on his face as he continued to push into y/n. for a few moments, he would slow himself, his mind was begging him to press on, but his want for an orgasm was less than his need for pounding into his queen. the moment he started again, he stuffed a blanket under the small of her back; to raise her just a bit higher. he had known he had done right as the hobbit’s moans were louder and more high-pitched. as he pounded into her throbbing heat, she squirmed with a whiny moan, her juices squirting onto thorin’s lower abdomen and the sheets
he had a smirk on his face as he aided the woman in flipping over. he pushed her head into the wet sheets. y/n happily propping up her bottom for thorin to enter her open, dripping cunt again. the room began to smell sweaty as the two continued with their actions. thorin only now propped himself on his good knee for leverage, leaving the other side open for y/n to easily fall back onto his cock with every thrust.
y/n crumbled before the king, tears in her eyes as she shouted his name needily when climaxing. thorin wasn’t far behind as within a few moment he unraveled. a shockwave went through his body as he orgasmed. he threw his head back and caressed the hobbit’s plump ass that was still resting against his cock. with a deep exhale, thorin lay beside his queen and grabbed a fist full of her hair to kiss her once more. y/n did the same. they were entangled for a while, using a clean fur to cover their torsos if any member of the kingdom needed to call upon them while they were still indecent.
y/n leaned her head into the dwarven king’s chest and shut her eyes to relax, just as she was doing before in her floral milk bath. thorin inhaled her scent, now liking it more because he was mixed in with the scents of the earth.
“i could not possibly imagine having this kingdom without you,” thorin said, shutting his eyes and stroking the small of his queen’s back.
“and nor could i,” the hobbit said, kissing his pectoral and rubbing his thick dwarven chest hair again.
Content & Warnings: fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship
Word Count: 1.8k
With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.
ao3 // main masterlist
For @protosslady
“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”
Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.
“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.
The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”
Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”
“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”
Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.
You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.
That is still true. Thorin loves you.
But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.
To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.
“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.
When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.
But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.
“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.
Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.
“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.
“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”
Their smiles return but it’s subdued.
This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.
A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.
“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”
“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.
Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”
“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”
The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.
How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?
You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.
You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.
As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.
“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.
“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.
Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”
“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.
“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.
“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.
Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.
“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”
First hint dropped.
Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.
You perfectly understand his meaning.
You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.
“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.
“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.
But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.
Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”
Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”
“Thorin,” you say flatly.
“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.
Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”
Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”
Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?
“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.
Still, it brushes right over his head.
“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.
Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.
Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.
“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"
Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.
Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?
Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.
You start to nod, urging him on.
Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.
“Truly?”
“Found out just this morning.”
Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.
“Why not say anything?” he asks.
“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”
Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”
“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”
Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”
“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.
“Happiest I’ve ever been.”
Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.
“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.
“What kind of celebrating?”
“The kind that landed us here.”
“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.
“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.
“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.
He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”
✨ Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Mista (Dwarf OFC)
✨ Rating: T (subject to change)
✨ Warnings: ANGST
✨ Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past…
You can find this fic crossposted on AO3 (search for lathalea).
✨ A/N: If you're reading this, I wanted to thank you SO VERY MUCH for your patience! Extra special thanks with a cherry on top to everyone who supported and motivated me recently, you made me finally finish this chapter (and it was a difficult one in places).
As usual, I'd like to thank the one and only @legolasbadass for betaing this chapter and supporting my wild ideas :) It means a lot 💙💙💙
✨ Khuzdul:
Tumunzahar - an ancient dwarven city in the Blue Mountains rebuilt by the Broadbeams in this story. The Elves call it “Nogrod”.
‘Urdêk - [ereborean] Kingdom Under the Mountain
Zabdûna - Queen
✨ Entangled Masterlist
Until the evening, My Lady.
Those words rang out in Mista’s ears all afternoon, sometimes even drowning out the ever present feeling of shame. A big part of her dreamed of crawling under a blanket and hiding in her bedchamber for the whole evening. However silly her behaviour in the Forges had been, she had to forget about it for the time being. On the next day, the King’s Council would convene, and there was an idea she hoped to present to the Lords. In order to gather support, she needed His Majesty’s approval first, and she had to do her best to secure it tonight — during the supper.
The evening had to be perfect. Mista asked the Kitchens to prepare roast duck with cranberries for the main dish — one of the King’s favourite dishes, according to Dís. As soon as Katla heard about the evening plans, she was beside herself with joy. In a blink of an eye, she picked a newly made dress from Mista’s bridal trousseau that, according to her, was “the perfect choice for a romantic dinner with His Majesty”, and at once began plaiting countless decorative braids in Mista’s hair. While Katla chattered happily, sharing all the newest gossip, Mista realized the reason behind her maid’s exceptionally cheerful mood. As a clever dwarf-woman, Katla must have noticed how rarely the royal couple spent their evenings together, as well as their nights. To put it plainly: never.
Now, however, the royal couple was about to have a private supper for the first time since their wedding, and it was truly happening this time. Mista wanted to pinch herself when Ranul, the King’s valet, brought a message from His Majesty, informing her he would arrive in one bell. Since then, Mista could not stop herself from smiling. He did not forget it this time. Thorin would truly spend the evening with her, despite her unbecoming behaviour earlier that day.
She would truly share a meal with the King Under the Mountain, and he would be fully dressed this time, so Mista would not lose her head or start blabbing like a dimwit again. She promised herself she would not. Besides, His Majesty would certainly be courteous, as always, and if she was lucky, he would not mention that silly incident from before. Mista would present her new idea very eloquently, hoping with all her heart that the King would approve of it. Perhaps this time, he would even smile at her. And maybe, just maybe, an evening together would turn into a night…
A quarter of a bell before the supper, Katla finished working on Mista’s hairdo. Hurriedly, the new Queen put on her spectacles, and a beautiful pair of gold and emerald earrings. Only then did she venture a glance into the mirror before her.
“Katla, my hair!” she gasped, admiring her stunning coiffure that somehow made her dull brown hair look a bit more lustrous. “It looks… beautiful!”
“That’s because you have beautiful hair, M’Lady. I just made use of it. Fourteen braids — simple, yet elegant, just like you wished.” She beamed at Mista’s reflection in the mirror.
“If this elaborate braid chignon is your definition of ‘simple’, I don’t want to know what you consider ‘elaborate’,” Mista shook her head, making her braid beads and earrings clink pleasantly.
“This emerald necklace brings out the lovely dark amber of your eyes. And it fits your gown even better than I thought! His Majesty will notice it right away, this gown has the perfect neckline for it.,” Katla winked at her.
“I doubt that,” Mista protested. She did not have an impressive bosom, but the cut of her lovely new forest green gown and those lacy adornments in front made it look as if she actually had one. She promised herself to write to her sister Adla and thank her for recommending the dressmaker who had created this work of art. Wearing this dress was Mista’s conscious choice, and was not aimed at seducing the King, not at all. She had a clear plan in her head: this evening was about politics, and nothing more. They had to find a reliable source of food for the winter as quickly as they could. And if the King happened to like her new gown (although not necessarily its contents, she did not expect miracles), perhaps he could look at Mista — and her idea — more favourably than he had looked at her in the Forges.
“I still think the neckline is much too deep,” Mista added, as if to herself.
“Forgive me, M’Lady, but I don’t think His Majesty will be against it. I have yet to meet a Dwarf who would complain about a neckline being too deep,” Katla offered, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Katla,” Mista tried to protest. “His Majesty and I are to discuss important matters of state tonight and not… the depth of my neckline!”
Her maid chuckled, “If you say so, m’lady.”
***
His Majesty, the King Under the Mountain, Thorin II Oakenshield, Mista’s lord husband, arrived precisely on time. They both entered the spacious dining room from opposite ends of the chamber, and they both stopped in their tracks beside the table.
“My Lady,” Thorin bowed his head stiffly.
“My Lord,” she responded in turn, adjusting the spectacles that threatened to slide down her nose, and told herself for the millionth time not to ruin anything.
Silence fell in the chamber, neither of them making the slightest move, as if waiting for something. Mista took in the sight of her lord husband before her. The King wore fresh garments, and his slightly damp hair made her suspect that he must have taken a bath after his visit to the Forges, exactly as she had. He wore a crispy white linen shirt, dark brown trousers, and a sleeveless burgundy red tunic adorned with gold and black embroideries, held by a wide black belt. The cut of his tunic emphasized both his imposing height and strong build, clinging slightly to his torso and hinting at the lean muscles underneath, the muscles that Mista saw clearly from a very short distance mere hours ago.
She swallowed, suddenly feeling as hot as if she were at the Forges again. To make matters more confusing, the King seemed to stare at her intently for some unknown reason. Something in his brilliant blue eyes made Mista lower her gaze. Somehow, it felt better to admire the elaborate pattern on the carpet under her feet than meet his gaze.
Two servants entered, carrying food and saving Mista from losing her head completely.
“Shall we sit, My Lady?” the King offered gallantly, and soon they both sat before their plates, facing each other. Relief washed over Mista as she found that there were no traces of the displeased expression he bore in the Forges. Was it her imagination, or did his beard conceal a hint of a smile? No, that was a ridiculous notion. Why would her lord husband smile?
As soon as the servants left the dining room, the same awkward silence crept into the chamber once again. The royal couple were alone now, the scenery was perfect — the diamond-shaped table laden with elegantly served delicious food, crystal goblets glinting in the soft candlelight — but it seemed as if there was a gargantuan knot in Mista’s stomach. Perhaps it was caused by the King’s proximity; if she felt brave enough, she could reach out and touch his ringed hand, but she scolded herself inwardly. She had to control herself better this time.
“Allow me to compliment you on your attire tonight, My Lady.” Thorin’s voice reached her ears as he raised his goblet into the air.
“I… Oh, thank you, My Lord,” Mista muttered, feeling warmth on her cheeks, and reached for her goblet. Her throat felt parched, and the wine tasted sweet on her tongue. “Your tunic… It suits you very well.”
“You are too kind, My Lady,” the King replied, giving her one of his official half-smiles as she cringed inwardly for her silly utterance.
And so their polite-but-stiff conversation continued. They began eating, exchanging remarks about cold autumn winds and the well-functioning geothermal heating shafts under the Mountain. During the second course, her lord husband mentioned the improved efficiency of the air vent system and Mista, of course, agreed. The third course — and the third goblet of wine, or perhaps fourth — found them talking about possible long-distance trade opportunities. Coming from a merchant family, Mista found it an interesting subject, and it did not seem boring to Thorin either; he began telling her about the trade challenges his people encountered in the Blue Mountains and how they tackled them. It was not quite the main topic she had in mind for this very evening, but according to Dís, talking was a way of breaking the ice, and their marriage truly needed it.
Halfway through the dessert, Mista decided to put a Broadbeam saying into action: grab the goat by its horns. She took yet another sip from her goblet and began speaking.
“Your Majesty, about the matter I wished to discuss with you, it is a very profitable opportunity…” Mista began, suddenly realizing that she had left all of her meticulously prepared notes on her bedstand, several rooms away. She would have to make do without them. Taking a gulp of wine to calm herself, she tried to convince herself that all would be well; she remembered their contents by heart, and besides, the King could not say ‘no’ to such a reasonable idea.
“I am listening.” The King’s voice was low and rich, like the wine in their goblets, and his eyes shone in the candlelight like two coals on a winter night.
“It is somewhat connected to the food issues we are facing. I would like to present it tomorrow at the King’s Council meeting… if you approve of it, that is.” Seeing her lord husband’s raised eyebrow, she added, “It is a delicate matter, you see.”
“Even more delicate than convincing some of our lords that growing our own food will not make our ears pointy?” he asked, a half-smile curling up his lips. Mista’s heart made a tiny flip. It was just one smile, but the memory of it would keep her warm during many evenings. Perhaps this conversation would not be as difficult as she thought.
“I’m afraid my proposal may be seen as highly controversial, and I would rather avoid antagonizing some of the lords again,” she admitted, looking down at her half-eaten pudding.
Thorin chuckled, “Lord Galar’s outburst during the last Council meeting was very much needed. You managed to weaken his position, and for that I thank you.”
He toasted her with his goblet, and it took a moment before she fully understood what her lord husband was saying. To think that her words, unknowingly, became a part of a larger political game, made her slightly dizzy… Still in slight disbelief, she lifted her own goblet in response.
“Now, please tell me about your proposal, My Lady,” the King said.
“Of course…” Mista gathered her thoughts. “The efforts to enlarge our dairy production are already underway, but it will take more time than we thought. At least months to double the current numbers. As for diversifying our own food sources, I have sent for a Master Grower from Tumunzahar, and some of our Stone Masters are working on finding a safe way into the Library to find those old records that would help us immensely. We have already staked off a few potential areas for plant and fungi cultivation, but we will be able to begin it earliest in the early spring… First, we have to survive the winter.”
The King nodded, “All the while our food stores are shrinking instead of growing. What about the merchant barges from Harad? Any news from our scouts in the south?”
Mista shook her head, “Still no sign of them.”
Her lord husband’s only response was a grunt. He toyed with the stem of his goblet, deep in his thoughts, and Mista noticed it was almost empty. She rose and, refilling both of their goblets, she continued speaking, feeling a pleasant warmth in her belly and on her face.
“I may have found a solution. When Lord Balin and I were going through the diplomatic mail the other day, there was a letter that made me think,” she paused. Grab the goat by its horns. “It was from King Thranduil; a reply to our letter in which we thanked him for the wedding gifts. The silks and Dorwinion wine, if you remember.”
“From King Thranduil?” Her lord husband’s demeanour suddenly changed into a frown, his voice resembling a growl. “A reply to our letter?”
Nodding, Mista stood up, retrieved the Elvenking’s letter from the side table, and brought it to the King, placing it beside his plate.
“I took charge of the diplomatic mail, Your Majesty, if you remember. Per your request. Balin… Lord Balin has been teaching me all I need to know. With his assistance, I wrote letters to our most prominent wedding guests, thanking them for their presence. In your and mine name. Here is King Thranduil’s reply.”
The King Under the Mountain glared at the piece of parchment and made a strange sound.
“More wine?” she asked. He shook his head.
“What does that Woodland Elf want from us?” her lord husband asked, still glaring at the letter, but making no attempt at opening it.
“Nothing.” Mista’s smile faltered, her excitement about conveying the great news lessening. She did not understand the King’s reaction. “On the contrary — he offered help with anything we might need and…”
“Help? Him? That honourless tree-lover?” The King raised his voice, rising from his chair, his gaze darkening. “He is offering his help now, that self-centered bastard?! Where was Thranduil when Smaug attacked? Where was he when the orc army arrived on our doorstep?!”
Mista’s eyes widened at the sudden fury her own innocent words seemed to evoke.
“But… Your Majesty… I studied the alliance treaty you both signed after the Battle of Five Armies and…” Mista’s voice trembled, and she took half a step back. She had never seen the King in such anger before, not even during the council meeting.
“That treaty? It is worthless,” he bared his teeth as his temple braids danced along his cheeks, “If not for the common enemy, nothing in the world would have convinced him to sign it! It is simply a piece of parchment the Elf is going to disregard whenever it suits him! Exactly as he did in the past,” Thorin’s hand clenched into a fist, slamming into the piece of parchment on the table, his cheeks reddening with anger.
Reflexively, Mista leaned forward and placed her hand over his fist, her rings clinking against his, metal against metal. Skin against skin.
She saw him freeze half sentence, his mouth open; his Durin’s apple bobbed.
“My lord husband…” Her voice, almost a whisper, trailed off when his stormy blue eyes met hers. Then his gaze travelled down to their joined hands. For a few heartbeats, he stood there in complete silence. Then, he gave out a deep sigh.
Mista did not dare to move.
The King opened his hand, wrapped his fingers around her palm, and — before she could retract it — covered it with his other hand. Exactly like he had at that feast in Tumunzahar so many years ago.
“You must forgive me, My Lady. It is the wine… and my cursed temper speaking,” he offered. Mista suddenly felt dizzy, and it was not because of the wine. He did not reject her hand. He took it. He…
Her cheeks burned for the millionth time that evening.
She muttered, “I have angered you, I am sorry. I was not aware of the extent of your animosities. Perhaps… we could discuss this matter some other time?”
The King still held her trembling hand in his. When he spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper.
“Have I scared you so?”
Mista looked down at his strong palms covering her hand. It was a gentle hold, not a forceful one. She could have retracted her hand whenever she wished, but she did not. The warmth of his touch spread onto her skin.
“No, Your Majesty…” She tried to keep her voice calm. “I was simply keen on this idea. Believe me, I was not aware of your past with King Thranduil. I should have asked Lord Balin first, before wasting your time on this matter.”
“Do sit down, Lady Mista,” the King spoke surprisingly softly. “You are not wasting my time. So far your other ideas have proven valuable. Unconventional, yes, but we, the Longbeards, are very much set in our ways. Too much for our own good sometimes. Perhaps the wisdom of the Broadbeams is what we need now?”
“You are too kind, Your Majesty…” Mista mumbled, sitting down. Had the King, her husband, truly praised her? Warmth bloomed in her chest. It must have been the wine.
“Pray, continue.” He let go of her hand and reached for the wine to refill their goblets. “I will endeavour to remain civil from now on.”
She gave him an uncertain smile and began once again, this time from a different angle.
“There is this old saying, A wise king keeps his allies close…”
“…and his enemies closer,” the King finished with an understanding smile. “Dagur Sture’s words.”
“Exactly.” She nodded hopefully. It was encouraging to know how familiar her lord husband was with the old philosopher’s writings. “When it comes to our relations with the Woodland Realm, I see two options: we can keep the elves at hammer’s length or even ignore their existence if that pleases Your Majesty, or we can try to follow Dagur Sture’s advice. We could work on trade relations and other beneficial kinds of cooperation… which would keep us informed about the latest activities of the Mirkwood Elves.”
One of the King’s thick sable eyebrows rose slowly. Humming, he finally took the Elvenking’s letter in his hand and read it.
“Do you not think that the way Thranduil wrote about offering his help was simply an empty courtesy on his behalf?” he asked, looking back at Mista.
“I very much think so,” she grinned. “King Thranduil most probably expects us to politely thank him and decline his offer.”
“Indeed.”
“That is why we shall do the opposite. If you agree, Your Majesty.”
“You surprise me, My Lady.” King Thorin’s lips twitched as a glint in his eyes replaced the earlier frown. “Please, continue.”
“Based on historical sources, I learned that the Longbeards — our people — built the Old Forest Road. As a result, trade relations with the Mirkwood Elves thrived. Why not return to that state of things? We could start by negotiating food trade or hunting rights in their woods,” Mista said, feeling more confident with every passing moment.
The King shook his head, “Thranduil is as fond of me and our people as I am of him. I doubt he would be interested.”
“Helping to manage my family’s trade business taught me one thing: it is always about the price. Balin tells me that Mirkwood is still infested by those giant spiders, is that correct?” she asked.
“It is a regular plague,” Thorin nodded. “They seem to multiply very quickly.”
“Might King Thranduil not be interested in assistance from the best dwarven warriors in order to eradicate those foul creatures?”
“Perhaps. It would be a great blow to his pride, though.”A visible smile appeared on her lord husband's lips. “If I were to allow my warriors to risk their lives in this manner, of course.”
“Of course,” Mista agreed, undeterred. She had to be careful now, but she also had another ace in her sleeve. “There is one more option as well. Are you very attached to the Gems of Lasgalen, Your Majesty?”
The frown returned, as she expected. The King took a sip from his goblet before speaking.
“Not at all. But I cannot deny that it brings me joy, knowing that they are safely stored in our treasure chamber,” the King’s demeanour was serious, but Mista could have sworn she saw a mischievous spark in his eyes, “and not, say, in the chambers of the King of the Woodland Realm.”
She chuckled, “The legendary Thorin Oakenshield admitting to being petty?”
“Even a king has to have his little joys,” he admitted, joining in her chuckles.
His laughter was heartwarming, deep and sonorous, and when their eyes met, Mista felt like drifting in the clouds.
“You have a mind of using them as a bargaining chip when negotiating with Thranduil, am I correct?” the King said when their chuckles subsided.
She nodded, “Are the gems useful to us in any way? Besides being the source of your joy, that is?”
“I am certain that Balin has already informed you about this. He has quite a strong opinion on that matter.”
“I prefer to hear it from you, Your Majesty,” Mista admitted. “If I may.”
“We both know that you are hoping to hear me say that the only usefulness of those gems lies in Thranduil’s interest in them, or, to be exact, in how much we may receive from him if we use the necklace as a leverage in our negotiations,” the King said. “However, you should know, Lady Mista, that I have no intention of negotiating with that… Elf.”
Mista sighed inwardly. The King’s feelings on the matter were not unexpected; Balin had warned her about this.
“Very well. This will not be a problem, Your Majesty,” she stated calmly. “I can take care of the negotiations.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I can pay a diplomatic visit to King Thranduil and secure a beneficial agreement. On behalf of my family, I took care of trade relations with the Elves of Grey Havens as I managed to learn some Sindarin,” Mista explained. “I imagine the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood aren't too different from their kin.”
“If you think, My Lady, that you are going to travel into that accursed forest…” Thorin protested.
“How else are we to gain what we need? King Thranduil is instrumental and he is not going to travel here, seeing as he was not even present at our wedding,” Mista said, stumbling upon the last two words. She still remembered that event in detail. And the way Thorin’s lips tasted. The lips that were now pressed into a thin, hard line.
“My Lady,” the King huffed. “We have already discussed this. I will not have you risk your life.”
“I will take with me as many guards as necessary,” she retorted. “Even a whole army, if you so wish.”
“That does not change a thing. Mirkwood is full of foul creatures and dangerous magic.”
“How else am I to conduct the negotiations?”
The King said curtly, “This is not up for debate.”
“Neither are the empty bellies of our people,” Mista quipped, surprised at her own boldness.
The King grunted and rested back on his chair, his arms folded on his chest, piercing her with his icy blue stare. Silence rang in Mista’s ears as she nervously toyed with the stem of her goblet and took a gulp of wine, to steady herself.
When the King finally spoke, the frown on his face deepened.
“My Lady Mista, I shall not change my mind in this matter. You are…” The King cleared his throat, “It is my duty to ensure your safety. And I strive to fulfill my duties to the best of my ability. Ensuring the wellbeing of my people, you included, is among them. Now, I find your idea bold but worth discussing further. If you propose it at the Council meeting tomorrow, I will support it as long as it does not put your person in danger. Perhaps another negotiator could be found, or a less perilous location for such talks.”
Mista took a moment to take another sip of wine. This was not the outcome she hoped for, but a road towards this goal had been paved.
“Very well,” she began. “I think…”
A loud booming sound drowned out her words. The ground shook under her feet, the tableware clattered, there was a distant crack, and a string of dust trickled down from the ceiling. Everything seemed to shake: her vision, her hands, the furniture, and the walls; something thudded behind her back, and the light of the candles danced frantically over the walls. Disoriented, Mista exclaimed, grabbing the table to regain balance; Thorin shouted something, but she could not understand the words; she was not certain where they came from. The ancient chandelier above them clattered. A burning candle fell on the floor. Petrified, Mista could only stare as it rolled away over a rug that immediately caught fire. It was quickly crushed under Thorin’s heavy boot, the fire quickly extinguished. The tremors intensified; a distant bell — the mine bell perhaps — began tolling the alarm.
“Mista!” someone — Thorin — shouted and pulled her to the side as parts of the chandelier, metal ornaments and crystals, began raining down onto the floor.
She clung to her lord husband, the only solid element in the chaos that surrounded them, her hands holding tightly on to his sleeve, his arm encircling her waist. Something fell nearby, making her cry out and recoil, but Thorin’s steady arms held her close, one of his hands covering her head protectively, her face hidden in the folds of his tunic.
“We need to leave!” He pulled her close and led her swiftly through the quivering rooms and hallways into the main corridor. Its walls kept on shaking as well; in the distance, Mista heard heavy footsteps and a couple of voices shouting.
“We will be safer here, the walls are sturdy.” The King’s voice rumbled in his chest, his arms firmly wrapped around her, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
Then, she felt one of Thorin’s arms moving away. She clung to him even tighter, as if to prevent him from pulling away. He did not; instead, the King placed his hand flat against the wall beside them and closed his eyes for a few heartbeats. His other arm held her close. Pressed against him, Mista felt his hand splayed over her shoulder blades, the reassuring hardness of his chest rising and falling. A wave of relief washed over her, and she wanted to stay like this, so very close to him, even if the world around them was ending.
A sigh.
“It will pass in a moment, My Lady. The bones of the Mountain are settling.” Thorin’s voice reverberated against her cheek.
When he removed his hand from the wall, he asked with a surprising softness in his voice, “Are you unharmed?”
Mista swallowed, trying to calm her racing heart, and murmured into his tunic, “I am.”
Just as the King said, the tremors began subsiding, but she refused to move away from him.
“Your Majesties!” A guard was running towards them. “Were you injured?”
“We are both well, Áki,” the King said. “The Mountain is, too. She is returning to her slumber. Any casualties?”
“I don’t know yet, Your Majesty,” the guard panted, parts of his chainmail covered in stone dust.
“Tell Captain Dwalin that the source of the tremors was in the area of the Forges. Check and report back as soon as you can.”
“Right away, Your Majesty!” the guard saluted, placing his fist against his chest, and then turned around and hurried back.
“Lady Mista…” Thorin’s voice was like a murmur of a mountain stream. “All is well now.”
She refused to react. With his arm around her, she simply wanted to stay in that moment for eternity. When his arm slowly fell away from her body, stubbornly, she refused to let go of him.
The King spoke again, “Please, My Lady, look at me. There is nothing to be afraid of. I promise.”
Swathed in the velvet of his words, Mista took a deep breath. The stone ground beneath them finally seemed as steady as it had been before.
“I have never experienced such strong tremors before,” Mista spoke, looking up at her lord husband’s face and feeling like an utter fool.
“Understandable,” Thorin said. “The Blue Mountains are much older. And not as stroppy as our Mountain.”
As he spoke, he patted the wall with some kind of glint in his eyes, as if he would pat a brother in arms on the back.
It was time for Mista to take a reluctant step back on her trembling legs. It was not easy to find balance; she scolded herself for drinking all that wine.
“How did you know?” she asked. “About the Mountain? That the tremors were subsiding?”
Thorin glanced at his palm, covered with stone dust. “I listened.”
She followed his gaze, “Is it like the Stone Sense some of the Broadbeam miners have?”
“In a way,” he shrugged. “My Grandfather had it, my Father, and I as well. Dís has it too, and… my brother, he also had it. We hear our Mountain. She tells us things. We see them. It is… not something that I can explain well.”
“That must be a wondrous feeling,” Mista said, touching the stone wall in the same place where Thorin’s hand was moments ago. The stone was coarse and still slightly warm but silent against her skin.
“The Mountain can be loud sometimes. She has been growing louder since we returned,” Thorin admitted softly, as if to himself.
“What does she tell you?”
The King touched the stone wall once again, his hand beside Mista’s, and closed his eyes again.
“The tremors… We were too enthusiastic about remodelling the Forges. We need to be more careful. And she insists…” he cleared his throat and paused. “She wants me, us, to… bring more dwarves here. As soon as possible.”
“She was alone for a long time,” Mista’s gaze met Thorin’s, their hands only a finger width apart.
A pause.
“She was.”
His features were softened by the weak light of the corridor. When he nodded, she thought she saw something in his eyes, a shadow of melancholy, or perhaps tiredness. Mista wanted to embrace him, to chase that shadow away, and keep it at bay for as long as she could. She took a minuscule step towards him, her hand slid over the stone surface, and then their thumbs touched, and she was facing him, and her heart was beating fast. Embla’s words echoed in her mind, Dwarf-men are sometimes as blind as cave bats when it comes to matters of the heart, so it’s up to us to show them the way.
Perhaps this was the right time.
“Your Majesty… Thorin… There is something I would like to ask…” she licked her lips, her fingers playing nervously with her necklace. “I… I have studied our marriage contract and… I have been wondering…”
Trying to find all the right words, Mista noticed how his gaze fell from her eyes to her lips, and down to her necklace — exactly over her bosom. His Durin’s apple bobbed, and his lips parted; and all the words deserted Mista.
“Would you consider…” she tried again, her cheeks feeling very, very warm, from the wine, no doubt. “When the dust settles…”
“Mista…?” Thorin rasped out, his eyes slowly wandered up to meet hers; she did not know if her mind played tricks on her or if his thumb truly brushed over her hand, leaving a heated trail in its wake, or maybe it was just a whiff of warm air. A moment later, she felt a peculiar kind of tingling under her palm, and heard, or maybe felt, an echo, like a very old, forgotten song.
That was when the King suddenly moved his hand away, a frown appearing on his face.
“You were saying, My Lady? Our marriage contract?” His voice was hoarse, as if his throat was parched.
Mista’s arm fell limply to her side, the tingling gone. Her hand felt cold as stone. She must have been imagining things.
“Yes, the marriage contract. We…” she nodded stiffly, trying to rein in her emotions. Then she blurted out, “Would you like to… discuss the value of the sapphires we are to receive from the Blue Mountains this year according to the contract?”
Mista sighed. Coward. On the other hand, seeing how suddenly he recoiled from her, she should feel happy to have avoided humiliation. Whatever had just happened between them, it was clear that the King would not be inclined to spend a night with her. A beautiful hairdo and an elegant dress were not enough; Mista was simply not alluring enough to tempt him.
She barely heard his response. The King admitted distractedly that they did indeed need to discuss that matter, and the fragile bond they managed to create moments ago seemed to have frayed as quickly as it came into existence.
Soon, several guards and engineers came, along with Dwalin, who informed Thorin about the situation in the whole Kingdom after the tremors (no casualties, several minor injuries, some structural integrity issues in the Forges). In the meantime, the engineers busied themselves with assessing the situation in the whole royal wing.
The royal chambers were practically untouched, but it took a while longer before Mista was allowed to return to her rooms. To her surprise, the King offered her his arm and accompanied Mista to the door of her bedchamber, for which she was grateful as both the wine and the events of the evening made her steps less steady than usual.
“Thank you for the evening, My Lady,” her lord husband offered, covering her hand that rested on his arm with his hand. “I shall see you tomorrow at the King’s Council meeting.”
“My Lord?” Mista blinked, staring at his hand, feeling the reassuring warmth of his touch. “Thank you for joining me.”
“Allow me to bid you good night,” he added, moving his hand away and quickly glancing back towards one of the engineers waiting for him in the nearby hallway. “Duty calls. Sleep well, Lady Mista. The Mountain will not bother us again tonight.”
Mista’s gaze rested on her lord husband until his silhouette disappeared in the darkness and his footsteps faded away.
“Sleep well, Thorin…” she heard herself whisper, still clinging to the warm echoes of his touch. Her silly heart fluttered, even though it had no business performing such acrobatics. It was clear that the King’s gesture was dictated by pity towards a fearful dwarf-woman with whom His Majesty was stuck now. His inadequate wife.
***
“My dearest Niece! What an unexpected surprise!” Lord Taran’s voice echoed in the corridor behind Mista as she hurried out from the King’s Council’s chamber.
She let out a groan. The morning meeting of the Council had gone quite well; her proposal of entering into negotiations with the Woodland Realm had encountered some difficulties, but it was approved at the end, with the King’s support. Mista was still puzzled at the fact that he accepted her idea after she had embarrassed herself the previous day. After a nearly sleepless night filled with self-pity and then being stuck in one room with numerous boisterous Dwarf Lords, she only wished for some quiet time. A conversation, or rather, verbal sparring with her uncle was definitely not on her agenda.
“Your Majesty!” With his long strides, Lord Taran caught up with Mista in the blink of an eye.
She was not fond of white lies, but when it came to her father’s brother, she often seemed to be in dire need of a solid excuse.
“Good day, Uncle.” She gave him a curt nod. “I am on my way to a meeting with the newcomers and cannot spare you much time, I am afraid.”
“Those Longbeard miners can wait.” He waved his hand as if he were swatting a fly. “Tell me, dear niece, have you talked to your husband about that new kind of hardened steel they have begun producing here?”
“Are they? I have not heard.” Mista frowned. “Why would I talk with the King about it?”
“It is only fair to expect that our family will receive the monopoly when it comes to trading this new steel in the Blue Mountains.” Her uncle’s voice was as smooth as the finest elvish silks.
“I do not remember any steel being a part of the marriage contract.” As always with her father’s brother, she feigned ignorance to make him speak openly.
“Only because we did not know it existed, niece!” The tone of his voice was much too condescending for her taste. “It is being kept secret.”
“But now you know it is being produced here?” she asked. “How?”
“I have my ways,” Lord Taran hummed.
Mista knew that very well. If there was a secret worth knowing, her uncle knew how to make people talk.
“Strange,” she said. “The Forges are not producing anything at the moment.”
“But they will, I am certain of it, niece. Your father is about to send out our first generous shipment of the best sapphires from our mines, and a steel monopoly would be a welcome gesture in return, wouldn’t you say?”
“I am afraid I do not know much about steel. Perhaps you could ask His Majesty for an audience and discuss it directly with him?” she replied innocently.
“Ah, dear niece, you still have a lot to learn when it comes to trade. In such cases, one needs to work behind the scenes, using the best tools available.”
Mista had to stop herself from gritting her teeth. At least her uncle spoke openly: even as a queen, she was a tool to him, nothing more.
“So, uncle, do you want me to bribe or perhaps blackmail His Majesty in order to secure that monopoly for you? Provided he decides to sell the steel at all?”
“My dear, what an interesting sense of humour you have,” Lord Taran’s chuckle sounded like a cough. He lowered his voice, “Use your feminine wiles for once, my dear. Fawn over him, fulfil all his wishes in the marital bed, and then present the idea to him as a whim of a devoted wife. What Dwarf would refuse the woman he has barely bedded?”
Mista’s burning cheeks made her look away.
“Uncle, I do not wish you to speak of such things to me. It is highly unseemly.”
“Ah, but you are a married woman now, there is nothing to be ashamed of!” Lord Taran’s smile widened, making Mista feel as if she were a thirty-year-old lass again and not a grown dwarf-woman.
“Please, understand, uncle,” she lowered her voice as a couple of courtiers were approaching them. “I spoke my vows over the marriage anvil and I will not use my marital bed for political games.”
Her uncle’s dry chuckle reached Mista’s ears again.
“If you say so, my dear Queen.” He bowed, a tad too theatrically for Mista’s taste, and at the very moment when the courtiers were passing them by. “But I am delighted to hear that there is finally a marital bed to speak of when it comes to you and His Majesty.”
Mista stopped in her tracks, her throat tightening.
“Uncle,” she breathed. “My marriage is not a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
“So be it,” he shrugged. “I must say I am quite relieved. You do not know that, dear niece, but your marriage contract contains a clause which states that if the consummation of your marriage does not take place within the first three months after the wedding day, we have the right to annul the marriage and receive proper remuneration for the trouble.”
Her uncle was wrong. Mista knew it all too well. Together with Dís, she had studied the marriage contract thoroughly several weeks ago. With each passing day, she was painfully aware of the fact that there was less than one month left until the King’s Council would convene to confirm that all the clauses of the agreement had been fulfilled so far. She and the King would have to speak under an oath about whether the consummation had happened or not. And no honourable dwarf would dare to swear an untrue oath. A ball of ice began forming in her belly.
“I greatly appreciate your concern, uncle,” Mista spoke slowly, putting in an effort to keep an emotionless face. “Please do not worry on my behalf, all is as it should be.”
Lord Taran clasped his hands, “Splendid, dear niece. Splendid. Now, about that steel monopoly…”
“Forgive me, uncle,” she interrupted him, “but I am already late to the meeting. Let us talk at a more convenient time.”
“Every day you sound more like a real queen, my little niece. I am truly glad for you, as long as you remember your roots.” Lord Taran’s smile did not reach his eyes.
Not honouring her father’s brother with a reply, she turned into one of the side corridors, walking away as fast as dignity allowed her.
***
The chamber was dark and musty; cobwebs and dust seemed to cover every single surface, leaving dark streaks on Mista’s gown, but she did not care. Neither did she care about where exactly she ended up — this was the first unused room in the less frequented part of the royal wing she found and hid in, away from her advisors, Embla, and even Katla. A place where she could be herself.
Here, in this forgotten chamber, Mista plopped down on some kind of low table and allowed her tears to run freely. Her days as the Queen Under the Mountain, King Thorin II’s wife, were coming to an end. What was she thinking? The King did not wish to have anything to do with her. Except for minor acts of kindness, he mostly avoided her and did everything he could to not spend an evening—not to mention a night—with her. Not even one single night. Since the marriage was still unconsummated, in three weeks Mista would have to return home, with coffers full of gold and precious stones, and a broken heart. Was this how the end of her fairy-tale life as a queen of the greatest Dwarvish kingdom would look like? Was there truly nothing she could do to change her indifferent lord husband’s mind? It was obvious to Mista that whatever reasons lay behind Thorin Oakenshield’s decision to marry her, he must have changed his mind on the day of their wedding, when he saw her after all those years.
A stream of sobs poured out of her. She had to face the reality of the situation and accept it, no matter how much it hurt. Whatever she did, Thorin did not seem to see her as his lady wife. Of course, he was not interested in someone like her, why would he be? He was a legendary warrior, a great king, and the handsomest Dwarf she had ever laid her eyes on, while she was… plain and forgettable. Mista forbade herself to think of the deep blue pools of his gaze, of the sound of his hearty laughter when he was amused, of the softness of his hair, or the warmth of his skin against her. On their wedding day, she had thought her love would be more than enough for the both of them; she simply had to do her job as best as she could and show him that she was both a good spouse and a worthy queen. She had hoped that their common goals, making the Kingdom Under the Mountain prosper and bringing a child to the world, an heir of Durin, would suffice.
She was wrong.
Tears stained her spectacles and her gown, flowing like the River Running in spring. Mista did not try to hold them back; now she could cry for as long as she needed, in a very unqueenlike manner, hoping that her tears would wash away at least a part of her sorrow and disappointment.
Something creaked in the distance. The door. A narrow, yellow stripe of light splashed on the floor. Mista held her breath.
“Mista?” someone whispered.
Dís, she realized with a sigh.
“Are you here, Mista?” Dís repeated.
Hurriedly, Mista took off her spectacles and brushed away her tears with her sleeve. She did not stand up, choosing to stay in her dark corner. Now, she probably looked like some kind of revenant in her dirty clothes, with swollen, red eyes and cobwebs in her hair.
She cleared her throat and said hoarsely, “I’m here.”
A few quiet steps, the creak of the closing door, and darkness devoured the chamber again.
“I have been searching for you everywhere,” Dís spoke softly. “Has anything happened?”
“No, nothing happened, Dís,” she took a deep breath, trying to sound like her usual self. “Nothing at all.”
This was not a lie, not even a white lie. “Nothing” was exactly what Mista could expect from her husband, the King. “Nothing” was how she felt whenever her uncle was around.
“I simply needed some time on my own,” she quickly mumbled.
“Here, of all places?” Dís said, looking around. It was too dark for Mista to discern the details of her face, but she sounded somewhat intrigued.
“This was the only quiet place I could find,” Mista explained, rising from her makeshift seat and stepping towards the princess.
Dís nodded, “I can understand that. ‘Urdêk is quite a busy place these days. Especially for someone working as much as our new Zabdûna.”
Mista forced herself to stretch her lips in a smile, blinking away her tears.
“I am doing my best. You said you were searching for me?”
“Our lunch was getting cold,” Dís offered.
“Oh… I completely lost track of time,” Mist scolded herself. It was Tuesday, and on Tuesdays Dís and her had lunch together. “Sorry.”
“Don’t,” Dís waved her hand dismissively. “Let us go and eat it now. Unless you would rather have it in your chambers?”
“I’d rather join you,” Mista admitted. Somehow, she did not wish to be alone any longer.
“Perfect! I have been looking forward to it,” Dís grinned. “You are the only one who will fully appreciate the newest piece of gossip I have accidentally stumbled upon…”
Mista heard herself chuckle. Dís never did anything “accidentally”. And the “gossip” usually referred to new business ventures or possible political leverage opportunities.
“Alright, I just need to change. I look like a monster from the mines,” Mista said, trying to get rid of the dirt on her gown. Relief washed over her when the princess did not make any comments about her dishevelled state.
“I will have to send someone to give this place a thorough clean up,” Dís looked around the room once again, and then looked Mista straight in the eyes. “And, after lunch, if you feel like it, we can have a chat about what bothers you.”
“It is nothing worth speaking of, truly,” Mista asserted. Even Thorin’s sister could not help her in her current situation. No one could. Even herself. A shroud of melancholic acceptance fell over her heart.
Marriage was not a business agreement, and there was nothing Mista could do…
… or was it?
✨ Entangled Masterlist
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The golden halls of Erebor shone brightly as sunlight streamed through its great windows, casting warm hues over the throne room. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, sat upon his sturdy throne carved from stone and gold. His steel-blue eyes softened as they landed on his wife, you, standing near the dais, one hand on your growing belly.
"Are you comfortable?" Thorin asked, his gruff voice tinged with worry. He descended from his seat, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor.
You smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, my love. You needn't fuss so much."
"As if I could ever stop," Thorin replied, wrapping an arm around your shoulders protectively. His hand lingered near your bump, his expression a mixture of pride and awe. "Our second child. Another blessing."
Your reply was cut short by the sound of delighted giggles echoing from down the hall. Both of you turned to see your lively daughter, Lyra, barreling into the room, her braids flying behind her. Chasing her were Fili and Kili, who were both howling with laughter.
"Catch her before she—" Fili's voice was drowned out by a loud splatter. Lyra had somehow managed to trip over her own feet, sending the bucket of soapy water she carried flying through the air. It crashed onto Thorin's feet, soaking the king's leather boots.
"Oops," Lyra whispered, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter.
Fili and Kili skidded to a stop behind her, doubling over with laughter at the sight of their uncle standing there, water pooling around him.
"Lyra," Thorin began, his voice low and stern. His daughter, though young, was not the least bit intimidated. Instead, she tilted her head with a cheeky grin, hands on her hips.
"It was Fili's idea!" she blurted, pointing at her uncle.
Fili gasped in mock offense. "Me? Never! It was Kili who suggested the prank!"
"Hey!" Kili protested. "I said no such thing!"
You hid your laughter behind a hand as Thorin raised an eyebrow at the trio. "And you expect me to believe any of you?" he said, his tone betraying a hint of amusement.
Lyra darted behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. "Mama, protect me!" she giggled. You reached down to ruffle her hair, your maternal instincts kicking in despite her mischief.
"Perhaps your father will be lenient," you said with a smile, looking up at Thorin. "After all, she is only following in her uncles' footsteps."
"Of course you would defend her," Thorin said, shaking his head, though the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. "She has your stubbornness."
"And yours," you countered playfully.
He sighed deeply, pulling Lyra from behind you and crouching down to her level. "Next time, perhaps your pranks could spare my boots, hm?"
Lyra nodded solemnly, though her mischievous grin betrayed her. "I promise, Papa No more pranks... for today."
Thorin ruffled her hair and rose, gesturing for Fili and Kili to follow him out. "You two," he said over his shoulder, "clean up this mess."
The brothers groaned in unison but obeyed, muttering complaints under their breath.
Once they were gone, Thorin turned back to you and Lyra. He placed a hand on your bump again, his eyes softening. "Are you certain you're not overexerting yourself? Perhaps you should rest."
"I'm fine, Thorin," you reassured him, taking his hand in yours. "And besides, you know I can't sit still for too long."
"But you must take care of yourself," he said, his voice filled with quiet concern. "And our son."
"Son?" you teased, arching a brow. "How are you so sure? It could be another daughter."
Thorin smirked, his confidence unshaken. "It will be a son. I feel it in my bones."
"Just as you felt in your bones that Fili and Kili wouldn't break anything the last time they babysat Lyra?" you teased.
Thorin let out a rare chuckle. "A fair point, my queen. But regardless of whether it is a son or daughter, I will love them fiercely. As I do you. As I do our Lyra." He pressed a tender kiss to your temple.
Lyra, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, piped up. "Papa, when the baby comes, can I teach them pranks too?"
Thorin groaned, and you laughed, holding onto his arm for support as you shook with mirth. "We'll see," you said, though the twinkle in your eye promised mischief of your own.
As the day wore on and the halls of Erebor rang with laughter, Thorin held you close, his heart full. Though the road had been long and fraught with hardship, he knew he had found his greatest treasure—not in gold or jewels, but in the family he held dear.
Hi! I am hoping you still do requests, if not feel free to ignore this (please tell me if you can’t do it by messaging me so I know) Its a platonic fic idea, mostly fluff but with an overwhelming amount of angst, it’s a father Thorin (The Hobbit) with a daughter reader (if it’s not an issue and for less confusion I would like the reader to be a “Dwelf” half Dwarf half Elf)
Basically Thorin’s story (and pov) of raising his daughter as a single father. Seeing the reader grow from an infant into a child, and from a child to a young teen, and from a teen to a strong woman. Teaching her all she needs to know and being there for her during her happy moments and her sad moments.
He takes her to adventure with him to reclaim Erebor, seeing her fight with the skills he taught her, and of course to his absolute dismay watching her fall in love with Legolas and (With Thorin trying his best to stop it) him falling for her as soon as they meet in Mirkwood’s dungeons. As the adventure continues Thorin starts realizing the the chances of the reader having an immortal elf life style while he stays mortal. During his moments with Dragon Sickness he becomes possessive of the reader bc she is his greatest treasure. And during his final moments he isn’t sad at all because his daughter is right there with him, and all he can think of is all of the memories they shared from her infant days to now. And now is looking forward to seeing how her future will play out once he’s gone.
Sorry it’s long. It’s sad but I have so much love for Thorin because he reminds me so much of my father and seeing him get killed made me cry so hard bc my father also died not to long ago.
Fading Light ~ Thorin x Daughter!Reader
A/N: Omg I am SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!! A lot happened in my life and I have been working on and off on the fanfic but IT IS FINALLY FINISHED!!! I really hope you like it <3 I also struggled so hard with certain scenes so yeah hahaha... Anyway, enjoy it!! Also I did like math to make the years and timeline make sense yk?? So yeah I put 110% effort into it!! And also 35 years for her is like 12/13?? I think?? Maybe a bit younger but I just thought I'd mention it in case there are questions hihihi
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Angst, a bit fluff, dad and daughter, bit Legolas x Reader ࿐ྂ
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 10.4k (my longest so far omfg) ࿐ྂ
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: yes thank you <3 ࿐ྂ
Summary: Thorin and you, his daughter on your journey to Erebor. And also the journey of him as a single father watching his princess grow up.
~300 Years prior~
Soft laughter bounced across the walls of his bedroom, as Thorin, son of Thráin and grandson of Thrór, looked down. In his arm he held an abundance of different furs and fabrics. Hidden within them lay a small infant. Her eyes shone like the very diamonds within the halls as she saw her father standing over her. Looking out for her. Tiny hands wriggled free from the warm depth of the blankets and tried to grab for his hair, however, Thorin instead let her hold on to his finger. She giggled as she pulled his hand further towards her. A smile graced his lips, as he cradled his daughter gently. “Aren’t you the most precious gem in all of Erebor?” His question was answered by a yawn from his daughter. Laying her down in her small wooden cradle, he stayed at her side for a few more minutes. “You are the only light in my life (Y/N).”
~285 Years prior~
“Daddy, look what I found!” Thorins eyes moved from the scroll on the table towards his daughter. Her long hair was braided into two pigtails, showcasing her pointy elvish ears. Hanging between her small fingers was a beautiful pearl necklace. “Where did you find this (Y/N)? I thought you were playing with Kili, Fili and your dolls?” His eyebrow raised in question, as the small girl suddenly hid the necklace from his sight. Her eyes were downcast, only showcasing her painfully obvious guilty expression even more. “Did they take you to the treasure room again?” A soft yes fell from her lips.
“Please don’t be angry daddy…” Thorin stood up from his chair and approached his daughter. Kneeling down, he put both his hands on her small shoulders. “I could never be angry with you princess. But next time you explore around the castle with your cousins, make sure to let me know, ok?” Her face lit up at the realisation that she in fact did not get herself or Kili and Fili into trouble. “I will daddy! I saw a biiiiiig crown for you.” And with those parting words his daughter ran towards the door, threw it open and squeezed past her cousins to find the crown she saw earlier.
“Soooo I guess we are off the hook as well?” Fili asks carefully. “Don’t let this happen again. At least let me know before you drag her into your crazy ideas.” “We just thought she might want to see a little bit more of her dwarvish side you know?” Kili joined his brothers side, playing with a coin he probably got from the treasure room. “After all she is only half-“ “Don’t say another word.” Thorins voice was laced with anger and hurt. “She is a dwarf and ONLY a dwarf. Nothing more and nothing less. And currently she is roaming the castle ALONE while you were in charge of taking care of her.“ „You are right uncle. Next time we will take her around to explore the castle, we will let you know in advance.“ Fili gave his brother a shove into the direction of the open doors before deciding to search for their little cousin.
~280 Years prior~
Thorin watched his daughter from a short distance, discussing some matters about mining with his father and grandfather. Thrór looked at the little girl and shook his head. „I still can‘t believe that you let this happen Thorin.“ The mentioned dwarf raised an eyebrow at the king. „What exactly do you mean by that?“ „Well, you let yourself get charmed by an elf and not only that but you let her leave you alone with a child. This child is not even completely a dwarf. Where is her beard? Instead she has pointy ears… She has too much from her mother.“ Thorins expression darkened at the hurtful words of his grandfather. „She is no elf. She might not look like a dwarf and might not be able to grow a beard like we do, however she will be raised as one of us and she is still my daughter. And she is still your great-granddaughter.“ Suddenly a scream disturbed their banter and as Thorin looked back at his daughter, he saw her trying to sit up.
Rushing towards her, he slowly helped her up and gave her a quick lookover. „Are you okay princess?“ She sniffled, wiped the dirt from her hands, as well as from her knees and looked at her father. „Daddy! Something bad happened! This frog ate the butterfly!“ A sigh of relief left his lips at the harmless declaration. „Please don‘t scare daddy like this ever again, okay sweetheart? I thought something bad happened to you.“ „I‘m sorry…“ After her apology she rushed over to her grandfather. „Grandfather, look! I picked you a flower!.“ Thráin smiled at the child in front of him, before taking the small flower from her hands. „It looks very beautiful. Thank you so much (Y/N).“ She smiled brightly at him, before holding another flower toward her great-grandfather. „I also got you one.“ He stared at the plant for a few seconds, before taking it from her without saying a word. She tilted her head to the side in confusion, after getting brushed off so carelessly. „So, Thorin. How are things going with the trading contract?“
~265 Years prior~
„You have to raise your elbow a bit higher to properly shoot an arrow (Y/N).“ Kili said, as he helped her adjust her posture. An annoyed sigh escaped her lips. „Can‘t we take like a short break?“ „If you can shoot something else than the ground around us, than sure.“ Taking an arrow from the quiver, which is slung across her back, she began to align it with her bow. Pulling the string all the way back, she gave Kili a quick glance before letting go and watching it fly through the air. The arrow didn’t hit the target, but instead hit the tree behind it.
„That was good! See for your first lesson in archery you are doing just fine!“ „You really think so?“ She excitedly asked her cousin, while slinging the bow across her back. „Definitely. Thorin will be so proud to hear that you won‘t just fight with swords and daggers, but also with arrows and bows.“ „About that… Could you maybe keep it a secret? He barely allowed me to hold a sword so if he finds out I am now also trying to get into archery…“ Her gaze was pleading, as she begged Kili to keep this between them. „I don‘t understand why he is so careful? I learned how to wield a sword when I was 10! And you are already 35 so why waste more time?“
His words echoed through her head. Why would her father be so against her being able to fight? Isn‘t it normal for a dwarf to be learning weaponry so early on in their life? „Hey Kili, do you think it is because I am different?“ The question made him stumble. „What? Never! He always made sure that you would not think that way. You are a dwarf.“ „Only half a dwarf though. I am also partly elf, don‘t forget that.“ This was also the reason why she was already a bit taller than most of her family members. Even though she was only 35 years old. Barely a teenager.
A smile graced her lips, as she leaned towards Kili. „You know, I found a book in the library about elvish customs. That‘s why I also tried a new hairstyle today.“ She spun around, to showcase him the flowers in her elvish braided hair. „They do braiding a little differently, than we do. They also don‘t use the beads we use, which honestly is really a big loss.“ „Never would I have thought that you would start looking into your elvish side.“ He laughed while giving her a gentle shove with his shoulder. „Of course! I mean I had to find out why I am the only one in the whole castle who won‘t grow a beard?“
„So how did shooting arrows go?“ Thorins voice made the two turn around in an instant. „Fili was quite surprised, knowing that I didn‘t know about your plans.“ She knew she should have told him. In the beginning the whole learning archery thing was just a joke between the three of you. Until she read the elvish book and saw a handsome elf man hold up an arrow with pride. Maybe, thought it would help her enjoy her elvish side a little bit more. „I am sorry father. I just thought I would try it out you know? All the other kids are already swinging axes around and braiding beards.“ She pouted at her father, as he took the bow and arrows from her. „You will learn how to properly fight soon enough, but you are still young. Go play with your toys while I discuss something with Kili, won‘t you.“ „Father, toys are for little kids and I am not a little kid anymore!“ „And you are still not an adult now, are you?“ Grumbling softly under her breath, she stormed off towards the castle.
~250 Years Prior~
„Do you really think it is a good idea (Y/N)?“ „Of course it is Kunri, don‘t worry too much. You just need to keep quiet, or else my father will find us.“ Her hand was wrapped around his wrist, pulling him along towards one of the towers. Their plan was to look up at the stars that were scattered across the sky. And maybe, just maybe kiss. It was the perfect idea and the perfect plan. Kunri was also the perfect dwarf in her mind. He was super sweet and kind. And his beard was always so well kept and braided. He also once complimented her hair, even though it wasn‘t braided in the typical dwarvish style. „We are almost there Kunri, I promise you, you will like the view.“ „But what if we get caught?“ The worry in his voice made her stop in her tracks and turn around. Facing him, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. „Nothing will happen and nobody will find us. The two of us will just watch some stars from the tower that‘s it.“ She gently smiled at him, before turning back around and continue on her way up the stairs. Kunri let out a sigh before following after her.
At the top of the stairs, she helped her companion up before watching his face glow up in delight. „Wow the stars are even brighter from up here!“ His hands were holding onto the stone railing while his gaze was focused on the shining lights above. „I always come up here if I need a moment from all the hectic princess lifestyle.“ She said, making herself comfortable beside the dwarf. Her heart began to hammer, as their arms grazed against each others for a split second. „Kunri I-„ „Do you think Touk would like it here?“ He accidentally cut her off. „What?“ She stammered, doubting herself and the words she just heard from her crush. „Ahh I just thought that… you know… I would like to present Touk a bead and I thought this place might be perfect you know?“ Her mouth formed a silent ‘o‘ at the statement. She didn‘t knew that he liked Touk. She always expected him to like her back. Why else would he spend so much time with her? Why else would he be willing to touch her hair? „I never knew you like Touk in that kind of way.“ She whispered, trying to mask the pain in her voice the best she could.
„I never told you? I‘m sorry, I thought I mentioned it a few times. Well, him and I, we just started thinking that we might be each others Ones you know?“ Biting down on her lip, she nodded at Kunris words. „Of course. I bet he would love it up here.“ She quickly wiped away the tear that fell from her eyes and stood up. „Well, I think we probably should be going now.“ „But we just arrived here?“ „Yes, but my father, you know he actually really loves this place and I don‘t think you want to be caught by him while the two of us are up here, in a romantic setting, alone.“ The desperation in her voice to leave this godforsaken tower made Kunri immediately take the first few steps down into the castle. Nobody talked and the only sound echoing off of the tight staircase were their feet hitting step after step. As soon as the both of them arrived at the bottom, she waved him goodbye and made her way back to her chambers. Her heart hammered in her chest, as the feeling of rejection rushed through her body. Tears began streaming down her face even before she arrived at her door. Throwing herself onto the bed, she let her emotions flow. Her heart began to ache at the lack of reciprocation for her feelings. Why couldn‘t she be his One? Why was it Touk? They didn‘t even look that cute together.
A knock was heard on the door. „Please leave, I am not in the mood right now.“ She said inbetween sobs. The door opened nonetheless. She turned around, so the intruder would only see her back and not her tear stained face. „Princess, what happened? Are you in pain?“ Thorins voice rang in her ears. He was the last person she wanted to see right now. „Father I am sorry but please just leave me alone.“ He took a step towards the bed. „You know I could help you with anything that is on your mind.“ „I don‘t need any advice or any help right now. I just want to be left alone.“ She pulled her blanket over her head to drown out his presence, as well as her thoughts. „Let me know if you need anything. Or when you are ready to talk about it.“ With those parting words and a heavy heart, he left his daughters room.
~200 Years Prior~
Sweat dripped down her forehead, as she wielded the sword against her opponent. Fili had an easy smile on his face as he beckoned her forward with his fingers. “Come on, is this all you got? I thought we trained you better.” An angry huff left her lips. Her stance shifted; her grip tightened around the sword as she rushed towards her cousin. The sound of metal hitting metal mixed with their grunts. Her hair flying from side to side while focussing on her target. His sword was aiming for her right side. Sidestepping him, she quickly dove for his neck. But before her sword could graze him, he kicked her in the shins. Taking a few steps back, she looked at him angrily. “That was so foul of you.” “Do you think the enemy would care?” Fili smirked down at her. A growl left her lips, before she advanced once more toward him. It didn’t take much for him to dodge her attacks. Suddenly her sword flew from her hands and landed a few meters away in the grass. “What are you going to do now (Y/N)? Surrender?” His mocking voice set her ablaze.
Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down and focused once more on her sparring partner. She hated it when either him or Kili won against her. They would nonstop tease her about it and she wouldn’t even hear the end of it. She rushed towards him for the third time, fists ready to strike. Seeing her, he readied his sword to take her down. Suddenly she shifted to the right, unsheathed a dagger from within her sleeve and struck him across the cheek. Surprise was evident on Filis face as his cousin quickly moved behind him. Her hand stealthily grabbing his wrist and twisting it so he would let go of the sword. Kicking him behind the knees, he buckled forward, arms behind his back and dagger at his neck. “And that is how you actually win a battle.” She whispered in his ears.
Clapping could be heard, behind them. “I really hope you never turn on your father.” She let go of Fili, before turning around and greeting Thorin. “I told you, I would best them both at some point.” A smile was on her lips, as she stood beside her father, watching her cousin stand up from the ground. “But will you best me?” Her head quickly pivoted to the dwarf beside her. He unsheathed his sword and took a few steps back from his daughter. “Show me what you have learned.” A smirk formed on her lips, before she walked over to where her sword lay in the grass. Spinning it around a few times she got into her fighting stance. They circled each other for a few seconds, before Thorin advanced towards her quickly. She barely got enough time to dodge the sword splitting her half. The strength of his blow shoved her back a few steps. Her surprised gaze lingered on her father. He barely gave her a second to calm down after the attack before diving right towards her once more. This time he aimed for her side. Dodging it she spun around, so she was behind him. Her sword was up, ready to take him down. Suddenly she felt a punch in her gut. Stumbling to the ground, she held her stomach. The tip of the sword was at her throat.
“Are you alright?” He asked her, making sure he didn’t hit her too hard. Holding out his hand, he helped his daughter up. “I didn’t expect you to be so…” “Brutal? Lethal? Violent?” Fili said, while standing behind his uncle. “Yeah…” “The enemy doesn’t care if you are a woman or my daughter.” She let her fathers’ words sink in. “From now on, you won’t just train with Kili and Fili but with me as well.” A soft hum of approval passed her lips. Wiping off the dirt from her pants and readjusting her stance, as well as the grip on her weapon, she readied herself for another round of sparring with her father.
~171 Years Prior~
Smoke was filling her lungs, as she run alongside her father. The dragon Smaug was infiltrating the castle and they were trying to fight back as much as possible. “Find as many as you can and evacuate them!” “But what about you?” Rubble fell around them as the ground beneath them shook. “I will find Thrór and take care of the situation inside the throne room.” Thorin said, unsheathing his sword and pushing through the dwarves who are frantically running around. The thought of following her father came to mind, but she quickly chose against it. Her job was to evacuate as many people as she possibly could. So she rushed into the opposite direction of her father. “You have to leave as fast as you can! Leave while you can! Run towards safety!” She screamed while passing through various hallways. “Leave Erebor! Leave! Run towards safety!”
Sweat was dripping down her forehead, as she turned corner after corner, ushering out as many dwarves as she could. „(Y/N)! Have you checked the dining hall?“ Dwalin had his axe in his hand, ready to take out the beast if it passed him. „Not yet, but I was on my way there.“ „I will go into the direction of the courtyard. I‘ll keep them safe out there.“ She nodded at his words and took off into the mentioned direction. Throwing open the massive wooden doors, she immediately began to usher all of the stumbling dwarves outside. „Leave through the main gate immediately! If you can, travel into the direction of the Caves of Aglarond!“ Most of them listened to her words. Checking the room once more, she picked up an injured dwarf. „It will be faster this way.“ She muttered, as she carried the woman in her arms. Finally outside, she took a deep breath of fresh air before searching for her father and grandfathers. Spotting them in the distance, she began to approach them. Thorin immediately rushed to her and took her in his arms. „Are you alright? Did you get hurt?“ He held her at arms length and scanned her body for any wounds. „Father, don‘t worry I am fine.“ A gentle smile graced her lips for a split second, before disappearing once more as realisation dawned upon her. Her home was destroyed. The dragon infiltrated the castle and made it its own. „What are we supposed to do now?“ „We will travel towards Rohan and seek shelter.“ Casting Erebor one last look, they began their travels towards Rohan. Towards the Caves of Aglarond. Far away from home.
~1 Year Prior~
„Who is this last person that is going to join us on our way to Erebor?“ She asked her father, who was walking alongside her. „I don‘t know. Gandalf told me he knew just the right person for the job.“ A hum left her lips at his answer. Over 100 years have passed since Erebor got violently invaded by the dragon Smaug. And so many things have changed. Thorin and his daughter have been traveling far and wide passing through various towns and villages. Finding work was hard. People barely accepted Thorin among them but his daughter? They wouldn‘t even look at her. Until she could prove that she was just as good (and often even better) than most of their employees. Especially, when it came to forging weapons. Her keen eye for detail made each and every single piece a one of a kind, which were then sold at a insanely high price.
A small village was forming on the horizon. „Do you think we will make it before the others eat our portion of the dinner?“ She jokingly asked Thorin, shoving him with her elbow. „I doubt it, if Dwalin and Bombur arrive before us.“ A soft laugh escaped her lips. Never would she have thought that the day would come where all of them would go on an adventure to return to Erebor. To reclaim Erebor as their mountain. As their home. It made her heart fill with warmth. „I can‘t wait to see them all again. Especially Kili and Fili! Do you remember, when we stole great grandpapas crown? You even watched the three of us retreat with our treasure!“ „How could I forget? After your little thievery, he yelled around the whole throne room and even accused me of stealing it.“ „Did you ever tell him that it was us?“ She asked him curiously. „Not you. Just Kili and Fili.“ A gasp fell from her lips at his words. „So that is why they were so mean to me during practice!“
The sun was already down, when they arrived in the small village. Only the lights of the lamps alongside the path illuminated Bag End. It was a strange new place. Most of the town was covered by various different hills that were various different sizes. From small ones, to big ones. However, all of them had round doors and matching round windows, to indicate that these were no normal dirt hills. These were someone’s homes. Stopping in front of a door, Thorin knocked on the wood. Rustling and grumbling, as well as cheering and singing could be heard from inside. „Sounds like everyone else is already inside.“ Thorin mumbled from beside her. She leaned down towards the window and tried to peep inside, however she couldn‘t make out much. Suddenly the door flung open and inside stood a angry looking hobbit. A sigh left his lips, before he took a step to the side. „Welcome, please come inside. Your companions are already waiting.“ Smiling down at him, she followed inside after her father.
Most weapons, bags and coats were flung carelessly onto the ground. Placing her bow and quiver beside the pile of swords, she hung her coat onto the coatrack, before turning towards the host. „Thank you so much for hosting our departure dinner Mr….“ „Baggins, Bilbo Baggins. Here at your service.“ She smiled brightly at him. „Thank you Mr. Baggins.“ Her posture was a bit crouched, due to the fact that the chandelier almost hit her in the face. The sound of laughter grew louder the closer they got towards the dining area. „Ahh (Y/N)! And of course the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.“ Gandalf greeted them both, ducking under the chandelier in order to get closer to Thorin. Scooting past the wizard, she sat down beside Fili. „Finally you arrived! Now we can begin with the proper festivities.“ He said, shovelling some food onto his plate. The warmth of the wonderful company filled her heart with glee and excitement. She knew that the journey just began, but deep down she also knew that no matter what happens, they will get back to Erebor and they will slay the dragon.
~10 Months Prior~
„I do not wish to be in the presence of these elves.“ Thorin grumbled, trying to decline Gandalfs idea. „You are in dire need of a proper shelter and you know that Rivendell is close by. Also Elrond might help us get some insight about-„ „I do not wish to seek his help.“ She knew why her father was so incredibly opposed to visit Rivendell. Even though Lord Elrond never did anything to awaken Thorins wrath. At least not personally. She has noticed king Thranduil at the edge of the forest herself. Seen how he majestically sat atop of his elk. And declined to help them fight against Smaug. Her heart ached that night. Having lost not only her home but also one of Erebors strongest alliances.
„Father, Lord Elrond wasn‘t the one to ignore our call for help. So please, give him a chance. He might now how we could open the hidden door.“ Her pleading softened his tough facade. A sigh escaped his lips, as he looked forward. „We will only stay one night. None more.“ „Wonderful! Than let‘s change course towards Rivendell.“ Gandalf gave her a nod as a sign of thanks, before departing from the two of them. „I did not knew that you saw the king that day as well.“ Thorins brows were furrowed as the memory of this dreadful time resurfaced. „I spotted them when they turned around to leave us behind.“ Her hand landed on his shoulder, a gentle reminder that both of them survived the attack. „But this does not mean that I have a grudge against them.“
A gentle smile formed on his lips. „You will be a wonderful queen one day.“
She looked down at him, flabbergasted at his words. Never had she thought that at some point she will become a queen. Neither did she ever think about the fact that there might be a time when she will rule the kingdom. „A queen?“ „Of course. You are my daughter after all and you will inherit everything.“ Silence fell between them, as she thought about her fathers words. „What is it like to be a king? Is it hard?“ „I sadly did not get the chance to properly rule over Erebor yet, but this power comes with a great deal of responsibility. You need to make sure your kingdom works. This means that the people, who live inside your kingdom have little to complain about the way you rule over them. You need to take care of them. Think about what is best for everyone, not just one singular person.“ She nodded at his words, making sure to note everything mentally down. Just in case she really does become a queen.
„There are rulers, who have a heart made out of ice and are soulless. Creatures, who do not care about their lands. About their kingdom. All they want is the power that royalty gets them. But there are also kings and queens who rule with the warmth of their heart. That put their people first and themselves last. You yourself need to decide what type of queen you will be.“ „Father, will you be there for me and teach me when the time comes?“ Thorin stopped in his tracks at his daughters question. Taking her hands in his he looked up at her. Her pointed ears and her slightly taller frame are the only things that distinguish her from being a full dwarf. That and the lack of a beard. But suddenly a dreadful thought slithered into his head. Would he really be able to teach her? Will he be able to stay by her side until then? He is after all a mortal and will die at some point in his life, but his daughter?
A small smile graced his lips, as he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. „Of course I will. You will be the best queen Erebor will ever see.“ She gave him a hug at his reassuring words, before they continued on on their way to Rivendell.
Hours passed and they finally arrived at their destination for the night. Taking everything in, she gasped at the marvellous beauty that was Rivendell. The trees were beautiful. The architecture was breathtaking. And the people? Beautiful. Never had she seen such beautiful clothes and dainty jewellery. She loved the gems and jewels that lay deep in the treasure cove of Erebor, but these? They were breathtaking. „Please, welcome to Rivendell. You shall be escorted to your rooms. Clean yourselves and as soon as you will be ready dinner will be served.“ The words of Lord Elrond brought her back into reality. An elf stood in front of her. A woman who’s beauty rivalled with the flowers in the lushes garden. She was taller than her and her ears pointier. A real elf, not just an half elf like herself. Following the woman down a corridor, they stopped at a wooden door. „The bath is ready for you princess and a gown was prepared for you as a welcome present. If you need anything else, please call for my aid.“ And with those parting words the maid left her alone in front of the door. Turning the knob, she stepped through the wooden door. A gasp left her lips at the room. Windows that went from the floor to the top of the ceiling let in the warm sunlight and gave the room a golden glow. The bed looked like it was stolen from the sky above. Like the softest cloud she had ever laid her eyes upon. And the dress on top of it. A long dark green gown with beautiful golden vines sown into it. Oh she could not wait to get ready.
Setting her weapons, as well as her cape down into a corner of the room, she immediately headed for the bathroom. She was craving a warm bath, having already forgotten what warm water even felt like on her body. During her travels with her father they mostly had to house at inns and various different locations that did not offer the luxury of warm water. Throwing her clothes off, she let her foot sink into the water. The warmth immediately engulfed her and a satisfied hiss left her lips. Her aching muscles finally got time to relax. She did not ever want to step out of there. Closing her eyes, she let her body sink even further into the liquid. Is this what the heavens feel like? Is this eternal happiness? After enough time passed she had to abandon the waters and step into the dress. The fabric of the gown was soft to the touch and she let out a gentle giggle as she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a real fairytale princess. Leaving the room, she headed for the dinner hall.
Thorin could not believe his eyes as he saw his daughter enter the room. She fully looked like her mother in this moment. Like a real elf. Like she belonged here. „You look beautiful my little princess.“ He said, a smile on his lips. „Thank you father.“ Bowing her head, she stood beside him, looking over Rivendell. „So you are princess (Y/N). Welcome to Rivendell.“ „Thank you Lord Elrond. I have read quite a few books about it but no words do this beautiful lands justice.“ A smile formed on the elf’s lips at her phrase. „It indeed is breathtaking isn‘t it? I remember when your mother first stepped into the castle. She was astonished as you were.“ She blinked at his words. „You have met my mother?“ „Of course. But this is not the time to be discussing these things I assume?“ Elronds gaze moved from her to Thorin, his glare cutting through the topic. „Maybe another time.“ Her voice so quite, it was almost inaudible. This was the first time she was inside of Rivendell and the first time she met Lord Elrond. And he knew her mother? Her mother was often a topic that was avoided by her father. He didn‘t despise talking about her. Quite the opposite. He loved her so incredibly much that it pained him to the core to talk about her. Because talking about her reminded him of her not being around. Not having witnessed his daughter grow up. So she always tried her best to bring up her mother as little as possible. To not hurt her grieving father even more. Sometimes during really tough times, she considered that he might be happier if her mother would still be around instead of her. But these thoughts were quickly diminished when he would knock on her door, a fresh batch of cookies in his hand and a beaming smile on his face.
„I will leave you to your important meeting now.“ She said, bowing slightly to Lord Elrond, before joining the others on the long dinner table. Their faces were filled with disappointment and disgust as they inspected the lettuce on their plates. One would think that there was no food on their plates but disgusting cockroaches spiked on some picks. Sitting beside Balin, she looked down onto her plate. „Why this sour reaction? This food doesn‘t look that bad.“ „Well it is- Wow.“ Balin stopped in the middle of his sentence as he gave her a once over. „You are the spitting image of your mother.“ A blush formed on her cheeks at the heartfelt compliment. She saw some beautiful paintings of her mother and she always wished to be just like her. „Thank you.“ Eating her dinner, she listened to the soft violins that played soft background music. „You look more like an elf now. It‘s almost like your dwarf packed its bags and left.“ Kili suddenly said from opposite of her. „Hahaha I can barely contain my laughter.“ She sarcastically answered. „You would wish I would pack my things and leave you behind, but who else would kick your butt during sparring sessions?“ „Hey! Just because you beat me last time, doesn‘t mean that you will beat me all the time.“ A laugh escaped her lips at her cousins defiance.
Sadly the dinner passed all too quickly and soon enough she found herself inside her room once more. Her nightgown, a white long dress, gently swayed around her legs, as she gazed at the stars high above. The night was tranquil and it felt like an eternity that she felt this peaceful. It was almost as if everything was alright. As if she wasn‘t on a journey to find an enormous beast and get back the lonely mountain. Is this what it will be like after she returns home?
~5 Months Prior~
„He said we only need to follow the path so this is what we will be doing.“ Thorins voice echoed in her head, as she gazed at her companions that completely abandoned the aforementioned path. „This is not right, come back!“ Following them deeper into the forest, a shiver went down her spine. The light didn‘t properly reach this part and it was quite eerie. Except for the dwarves who kept on talking and babbling some nonsense. This was madness. They have to return to the… path? She turned around. Only tall trees and bushes were in her line of sight. Turning back around she saw that one dwarf was missing. Who was missing? Why was he missing? What even was she doing here? A scream from her right brought her back into reality. Immediately she unsheathed her sword and ripped Bilbo from the claws of the enormous spider.
„What is going on? Why is my mind so hazy?“ The panic in her voice unsettled Bilbo. „I don‘t know, but what I do know is that there are more spiders coming.“ Getting surrounded by these beasts was not what Gandalf had in mind as he sent the company through the forest. Neither did she expect to find herself fighting against an eight legged monster. The metal of her sword clashed against the fangs that were ready to strike her down. Diving down she slashed through two of its legs, before piercing its body in the middle with her sword. Her mind was foggy, which made her stumble in her steps. The others were trying to hold back the spiders but it was no use. Suddenly arrows flew through the sky, hitting beast after beast. Not being able to comprehend what was happening she stood there, sword by her side. Elves had arrived to slay the spiders. Her eyes caught onto a blonde haired elf and she watched, as he slowly descended towards her. „What are you doing here?“ The stranger asked her. Her mouth opened and closed. No answer was able to pass her lips, as she took him in. His eyes were analysing her, as well as the dwarves behind her. His beautiful ocean blue eyes. And his beautiful blonde hair. It was partially braided, showcasing his pointed ears. His beautiful pink lushes pink lips. They seemed to move but no words would register in her mind. Did she become deaf after leaving the path? His hands grabbed her shoulders, turned her around and bound her wrists together.
The moment her mind finally cleared up she found herself inside the Mirkwood palace. Bound by her wrists and all of them in a row. In front of King Thranduil. „I did not expect to see you wandering around my forest Thorin Oakenshield.“ He said, his voice laced with slight mockery. „Let us leave. Now.“ Thranduil raised an eyebrow at his request. „You trespass through my lands and do as you please. Why would I just let you leave now? You actually had luck that my son was on patrol. Else you would have gone mad and lost yourself to the forest.“ His head was held high as he let his gaze wander over each and everyone. „You even brought your daughter on your journey. That is quite a surprise. Considering you held her hostage most of her life in the mountain.“ „Don‘t you dare say another word about her.“ Her father shook in his shackles. The anger that was radiating off of him could heat up the entire castle. Thranduil made a move with his hands, almost as if he would dismiss the lot of them. „Please, enjoy your stay in the dungeon.“ Guards were escorting them, her being the last in the line. „Except for her. She shall stay in the castle a little while longer.“ At this Thorin began to thrash around. „Don‘t you dare-„ His voice was cut off as the door to the dungeons shut.
Her eyes widened as she realised that she was standing in the throne room of the Mirkwood castle. All alone. Tied up. „Tell me dear, what were you doing here.“ Staring at the king on his throne she swallowed hard and shook her head. „I shall not talk about it.“ Her gaze wandered over to his son, who was standing beside the throne. The beautiful man who is the whole reason she ended up here. „It is not every day that people wander through my woods. And even less that they wander off of the path. So I think you should definitely tell me.“ He suddenly stood up and walked towards her. His face only a few inches from his own. „Why did you decide to walk through Mirkwood and what is the goal of your journey?“ Suddenly the memories of the time as tragedy hit Erebor and Thranduil refused help resurfaced. „You did not help in our dire need of help. Why is that?“ A smirk formed on his lips at her question. „You dwarves got what you sowed. You were greedy and only the greediest get a visit from a dragon. And Smaug is one of the dragons for the most greedy souls.“ Her eyebrows furrowed at his words. „We just kept what was ours safe.“ „No you did not!“ His booming voice made her flinch. „You kept the thing I hold dear far far beneath your precious mountain and this is the price you had to pay. Not just for the diamonds but for the gold and silver that you hoard. One could have even easily mistaken you lot for dragons it it wasn‘t for your short statue and your beard.“ He took a quick look at her. „Except for you as a halfling. Neither fully dwarf, nor fully elf.“ She bit her lips at his words. The people in Erebor accepted her, adored her even. But even them would sometimes approach her with caution. Considering she was only half a dwarf. Different from them.
“Father, I think this is enough.” Thranduil stared at her for a few seconds longer, before retreating to his throne. “Legolas, please escort her back to her father.” Nodding at the request, the prince approached her. Grabbing her gently by her shoulders, he guided her towards the staircase that led to the imprisoned dwarves. “I apologize for my fathers words.” Legolas suddenly whispered, still leading her down the stone steps. “It is alright. Nothing I haven’t heard before.” She shrugged her shoulders. The words might not hurt as badly as the countless times before, but they still leave an unpleasant aftertaste. “Might I ask, how exactly did you end up in the middle of the forest?” “We never intended to leave the path, but one thing led to the other and now we seem to be stuck in your castle.” A hum left Legolas lips at her explanation. “You know, if you think about escaping then I would recommend doing so tonight. There are some festivities and preparations are currently taking place. Which means that most guards are not around in the dungeons. Or at least a lot less than normally.” She turned her head around to look at the man behind her, his words confusing her. “Why would you tell me this?” Suddenly her wrists were freed from the cold metal that bound them together. Turning around, she gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t think it is fair for you and your company to be held hostage.” Legolas smiled down at her, his eyes twinkling like diamonds. “Thank you so much.” She said, giving him a smile of her own before continuing on her way to the dungeons.
As the both of them arrived downstairs, Thorin immediately walked up to the bars. His eyes filled with anger at the close proximity of Legolas to his daughter. And the thought about what the king might have done to her. Opening the cell beside his, she was gently guided inside, the door falling shut behind her. The click of the key shutting her inside bounced off of the walls. Her hands grabbed the bars tightly. Legolas leaned towards her, his own hands just mere centimetres above her own. “Make sure to check your pockets at some point.” A soft nod from her indicated him that she understood the hint he gave her. “You have no need to get so cozy with my daughter now.” Thorin grumbled, having watched them the entire time. Lifting his hands up in surrender, the prince took a few steps away from the cell. “Of course. Enjoy your stay in Mirkwood.” And with these parting words he went back towards the throne room.
Time flew by as they were walking through the dark corridors, finding a way to get out of the castle unnoticed. Bilbo, for some unknown reason, did not get snatched by the guards and found himself standing in front of the locked-up cells. Without a key. Luckily Legolas seemed to want to help and slipped some copies of the keys into her pockets, which she of course quickly handed the hobbit.
“I was able to roam around a bit and found a wine cellar. I think the best option would be to get into the barrel and let them fall through the opening into the river below.” Nodding at the plan he just explained, each of the dwarves got comfortable inside one of the barrels. However, it was quickly noticed, that there weren’t enough barrels for everyone. “I can find another way out of the castle.” She quickly said, taking a step back from the company. “No. You should get inside. I will just follow you in some other way.” Thorin tried to argue but she just shook her head at his stubbornness. “No, they will catch you and you will be stuck here for eternity. We can’t risk that. I at least can blend into here. I am after all half-elf as well.” He thought about her argument for a few more seconds. Just as he was about to say something else, they heard footsteps approach. Shoving them into barrels and putting lids on top of them, she pulled the lever and watched each of them fall into the river below. The sound of people rushing towards the wine cellar made her duck behind a wall. Two guards walked through the door, arguing that they shouldn’t have left their spots. Their backs were turned towards her. Grabbing two glass bottles, she silently crouched towards them and hit each of them in the head. Both fell down with a loud thud. Quickly binding them she stripped one of them out of his uniform and put it on herself. It was a tad bit to big but it should still work. She should still pass as one of the Mirkwood guards.
Outside the cellars doors, there were guards rushing outside. One of them stopped in his tracks and gave her a once over. “What are you still doing here? The prisoners escaped! Go up there and make sure they don’t leave Mirkwood!” Nodding quickly at the order, she followed them outside. There she saw Legolas, trying to shoot down some Orks that for some reason seem to have found her and the company once more. Running after them she made sure to shoot arrows at anyone who seemed to attack the dwarfs. She heard Fili scream something at Kili, as the latter seemed to try and open the water flow, so they wouldn’t be stuck in Mirkwood anymore. That’s when an arrow landed in his thigh. “Kili!” She tried to run towards him, tried to help him. A Ork tried to approach him, but he was quickly taken care off by an arrow that flew from her bow. Reaching his side, she wrapped an arm around his back and half dragged and half carried him back to the barrel before it was swept away by the stream. Settling inside the small wooden compartment, her cousin let out a hiss of pain. “Are you alright?” Worry laced her words. She didn’t have a chance to examine the wound. “I will survive, don’t worry about it.” His voice wavered, as his mind still was focused on the gaping hole in his leg. Her arms tightened around him, making sure he won’t stumble out of the barrel. “Yes, we will take care of it, as soon as we arrive on land.” And with that they all let the river take them to their next destination.
~3 Months Prior~
He wouldn’t let her go. He constantly was by her side, making sure she was always around and in his reach 24/7. Making sure she is safe. And it drained her. She loved her father but ever since Kili almost died due to the poison in his system and the reconquest of Erebor he has been acting… differently. He was almost obsessed with her. “Father, I know you only mean well, but you have to let me go.” His eyes moved from the Arkenstone in his hand to his daughter. “Nonsense. There is no need for you to leave.” “But father, the people-“ “I don’t care about the people! Your safety is my priority and you shall not leave the castles grounds!” Anger bubbled up inside of her. “But what about Balin? What about Dwalin? What about all the other dwarves? War is about to happen outside and you are cooped up inside of this room, constantly staring at this stupid stone!”
“This is not a stupid stone!” His booming voice echoed through the halls. “This gem is the Arkenstone.“
Her eyes widened at his strange behaviour. She knew he was sick. She knew it was the stones fault that he behaved like an absolute lunatic. It happened to her great grandfather before. „Father, this is not like you at all!“ Thorins eyes narrowed on her, the gem set aside on the throne, as he walked up to her. „You will not leave this castle. Matter of fact, you will not even leave my side. You are my daughter and I will ensure your safety.“ He was quite shorter than her, however he was still intimidating. Especially under the influence of the dragon sickness. In the corner of her eye she noticed some movement. „I wish I could stay with you. I wish I could ease your mind, but this is not how we can save Erebor. I am sorry.“ She quickly ran away from the dwarf, far away from the throne and the king. Towards the door. Towards freedom. But she didn‘t make it far. Because Thorin snatched her wrist and snaked his arms around her body. Suffocating her in a hug. Keeping her close to him. Encasing her in his loving embrace. „You are my daughter (Y/N). Nothing will steal you away from me.“ What he did not see though, was her mouthing to Bilbo to grab the stone and make his quick escape, hoping this would turn her father back to the man he was before.
~2 Weeks Prior~
„I wish that we wouldn‘t have to go into battle.“ She said, looking up into the cloudy sky. The weather had been gloomy since days, almost as if even nature knew what was about to go down. „I agree. But sadly, it is not our choice to make.“ Legolas joined her side, leaning his arms on the castles stone walls that kept them safe. At least for now. „As if the dragon wasn‘t enough already, we have to fight against an army of orcs. It is so silly.“ She let out a pitiful laugh at the dire situation. The kingdom, just saved from the claws of a monster, faces another evil incoming. „Erebor will be saved. This battle will be won and the kingdom will be brought back to its former glory.“ The elf prince beside her smiled down at her, carefully grabbing her hand and letting his thumb reassuringly caress her skin. Heat bloomed on her cheeks at his gentle touch. „I appreciate your help Legolas. Yours and of course the help of your father.“ Her fingers tightened around his hand, squeezing it.
She was scared. War is just a few days away and who knows how long it will go on for? She just got back her home and her father finally found himself once more. No longer ill with the dragon sickness and now they all have to fight once more. For Erebor. When will it ever be enough? She let out a shaky breath. „What if we lose? What if Azog wins? What if we all will fall and-„ Her words were cut off. Her words were cut off due to a pair of lips on hers. A gentle kiss silenced her. A gentle kiss from Legolas silenced her. She barely registered what happened and he already pulled away. Her heart raced and her eyes took him in. His cheeks were tinted red and his eyes glistened with unsaid feelings. „We will not loose this war. We will not loose each other and we will win back your home.“ His reassuring words filled her with hope. "And afterward I will properly court you. In the dwarvish ways and in the elvish ways. In both ways." A gasp left her lips, as she registered what he just said. A bright smile graced her lips. "You might have to face another battle then. A battle even worse than the one that is about to hit Erebor. The battle with my father." Taking her hand, he brought it up to his lips and layed a gentle kiss on it. "I will make sure to ease the battle and get his blessing. For I will not let him stop my love for you." Her heart filled with warmth. Never did anybody ever say such things to her. Such lovely things. Such poetic lines. Her fingers traced gentle lines over his face, before pulling him down for another loving kiss.
Unbeknownst to her, Thorin watched the whole interaction through the window of his study. Anger bubbled inside the king, as his glare was set on the blonde-haired prince. But he also felt a pang in his chest. An ache in his heart. Legolas was an elf and so was his daughter. Even though she was only partly an elf, she still was one. The only thing that could kill her were wounds inflicted upon her. But not her age. She would live a long life, which he could not. His life was numbered. He was a mortal, like the men walking the earth or the hobbit who was their little thief. Meanwhile her lifespan was infinitely. „You might kill the prince with your eyes soon, Thorin Oakenshield.“ Gandalfs words cut through the dwarfs thoughts. „What is bothering you? Is it the love they have for each other? Or is it something else?” The wizard took a puff of his pipe. „It is neither of those and nothing of your concern.“ „Oh it might not be, but it could ease your mind to share your troubles with a friend.“„I am just worried. Worried like a father normally worries.“ Another puff of smoke left Gandalfs lips, as he thought about Thorins muttered words. „I think you do not need to worry. She is a capable young woman. She can handle herself perfectly fine.“ „I know. That is what I am worried about.“ The wizard let out a knowing chuckle. „Every daughter needs her father. No matter how old they are.“ A smile graced Thorins lips at the reassuring words. „I hope so.“
~10 Minutes Prior~
Blood. So much blood. And screams. But her mind was blank. She just saw both her cousins stabbed to death. Both their eyes wide open as their souls began to leave their bodies. Both their blood on her hands. But she had no time to mourn them. Even if it cut deep into her heart and sliced her apart. A cold reminder of the war surrounding her. She has to go help her father. Help him defeat Azog and finally end this nightmare. Her body felt numb, as she passed several orcs, slicing them down. Ending them. Killing them like they were killing her family. Her legs carried her further and further, her speed never faltering. Arrows flying from her bow into the orcs heads on the way. Finally she spotted her father at the top. He was wielding his sword against Azog in a heated battle. She had to help him. Stepping on the ice she stumbled a bit. How was Thorin managing to fight on it? Finding her balance, she watched Azog throw around his metallic chained up rock to smash Thorin into pieces but he always dodged his attacks. However, the ice underneath suffered tragically and began to break apart. This made her wobble and step back onto the grass. The dwarf king and the orc stared at each other, clashing their weapons around until the sound of eagles echoed through the vast space. The sound of them approaching and flying above them distracted Azog long enough for Thorin to take his chances and throw the orcs own weapon into his hands. Stepping off of the small ice he watched, as his enemy fell into the cold water below.
The silence was deafening. Was it over? Was he finally defeated? She couldn’t believe it. Dropping her wooden bow on the ground she stared at her father, who was still miles away from her. Still on top of the frozen water. He smiled at her and she carefully began to take a step into his direction. But Thorin suddenly held out his hand, gesturing for her to stop in her tracks. His eyes were focused on the frozen ground underneath him. He began to follow whatever he saw, leaving his daughter behind. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and watched the king walk around. Suddenly a scream ripped from his throat. She stumbled backwards at the shocking sound. Her heart began to race as Azog resurfaced and the battle continued. „Father!“ She screamed, her shaking hands fumbling for her arrows and picking up her weapon from the ground. The frozen ground was shredded into tiny bits, making it impossible for her to join Thorins side and help him in close combat. So she had to aim for the enemy with her bow. Lodging one of the arrows, she let it fire and whirl through the wind. But she missed. Her arrows falling left and right into the water. The only sound that was heard were their grunts as Thorin lay underneath the orc, fighting for his life. He couldn‘t die like that. He couldn‘t die at all! She tried to grab another arrow, but there were none left.
Taking out her sword, she jumped onto one of the few ice pieces and began to slowly approach them. Her feet slipped countless times and her legs stung due to the cold water, but she still stumbled towards them. She had to help her father out. He needed her. Suddenly her father groaned and her eyes widened, as she saw that he stabbed Azog. They switched places and the orc lay lifeless underneath him. She stopped in her tracks, clinging onto the ice. It finally was over. The war was over. That was until her father fell to the ground. Her heart stopped and she immediately ran towards him. „Father!“ Her screams traveled across the empty field. Her arms and legs flailed as she jumped her way towards him. Her knees hit the ground beside him. Blood was pooling out of his wound and she immediately cradled his head in her lap. More blood oozed out of his lips, as he tried to utter some words. „Don’t talk! You will lose more blood.“ Tears began to stream down her face, as she watched him struggle more. He reached a shaking hand out toward her cheek. She leaned into his cold touch. „You will be a wonderful queen and… a wonderful ruler…“ He coughed. Hiccups fell from her own as she watched his life disappear from his eyes. „You can‘t die. We still have so much to do, you can‘t leave me yet. Please.“ Her voice cracked as she held her father closer. Her hands were pressing down on his wound. „I need a healer. You need a healer. I will press on your wound. Stay with me dad, please. I need you, please!“ Another cough from him cut her off. „I will always be by your side (Y/N).“ More tears fell from her eyes. He smiled up at her. „You are my… most important treasure.“
His hand slowly dropped from her face and his eyes began to close. „No. No!“ Her heart stopped. She tightly cradled him to her chest as more tears fell. As raw screams rippled from her throat. Even when Bilbo approached her, she didn‘t stop. She wailed like a baby while holding him, hoping he would open his eyes once more. Hoping he would hold her once more or give her a kiss on the head. „Please wake up.“ She whispered, her forehead touching his. But he never listened. She didn‘t even notice Legolas. Or how he gently lifted her from the ground. Or how they got back into the castle. The only thing she could remember was her father on the ice and how his blood soaked the water.
~5 Years After~
„You know, your father was worried about you.“ Gandalfs words made her turn around, surprise and confusion written over her face. „What do you mean?“ „He once saw you engaging with the prince. Well, who now is the king of Erebor.“ She smiled at the thought of her father. He always used to throw glares at the elf when he sat too close to her during the dinner. „He was worried that you might not find a place on Middle Earth.“ She frowned at his words. She didn‘t know that Thorin was worried about her. About her not being able to fit in. „But he also told me how proud he was of you.“ „How so?“ „He saw how you stood up against the dwarves and elf that belittled you. That told you that you belonged nowhere.“ The wizards words resurfaced the pain and bullying she had to endure. Not being a dwarf and neither being an elf was tough on her and most people did not take kindly upon her. But that never stopped her from stepping up for herself. From showing them that she deserves to be there, as much as they deserve to roam the world. „He told me that you will be a wonderful queen once you wear the crown. And it seems, that he was right.“ A bright smile graced her face at the compliment. „Thank you Gandalf.“ She turned towards the window and looked up into the night sky. „And thank you father. Thank you for believing in me.“
Ficlet inspired by @rutobuka2 's amazing bagginshield comic (go check it out!)
Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Gn reader
Fandom: The Hobbit
Warnings: no warnings. Fluffy and suggestive<3
745 words
Screenshot by me
The warm summer air lingered on Thorin’s skin as he lied on the porch, head resting on your thighs. His raven hair, streaked with silver threads, spread across your lap, the smoke of his pipe sweet and teasing your nostrils, a playful call to the comforts of Shire-imported tobacco.
The dwarf relaxed against you, softly humming a tune that felt so familiar in his rich, deep timbre. A song from his childhood. He paused in between drags, eyes blissfully closed, sighing softly when your fingers threaded through his thick hair.
You took the occasional sip of tea from your cup, enjoying this quiet moment. Everything seemed to stand still: every light vanquished in the houses, every bird back to its nest. Only the wind claimed its presence still, rustling the foliage of the rose bushes and big oak tree in the garden. The crescent moon hung high in the sky like the most treasured jewel of a deity, glittering in its velvety display.
Thorin exhaled, puffing out a cloud of smoke. You swiftly took the pipe from his hand to take a long drag. He choked out a surprised sound.
“Please, help yourself!”
You chuckled, glancing down at him. He now laid on his back, looking upwards at you with a content smile, eyes mapping your face as if undecided on where exactly to rest.
He looked so charming now, moonlight painting his face of a blueish hue, similar to the one shining in his eyes in broad daylight. He spoke again, but his voice came from afar to you, as if from another moment in time.
“May I have that back, dear?” he murmured, voice so soft you could not resist.
You leaned down, closing the gap between the two of you. Your lips touched his with an almost religious tenderness, hovering slightly over them in awed reverence. You brushed your top lip against his before dipping back down to fully savor him, long and slow. Thorin’s eyes fluttered shut and he sighed long into the kiss, his lips following yours upwards as you pulled away too soon.
You handed him back his wooden pipe with a playful smirk. You had to bite your lip to repress a giggle at Thorin’s dopey expression: lips slightly parted, eyes half lidded and a generous coating of blush all over his face making him resemble a rather ripe peach.
As if suddenly waking up from a dream, he snapped from his initial haze and grabbed his pipe from your hand, throwing it aside. Your stunned eyes followed it thudding into the soft grass, then you felt your face being pulled down and Thorin’s lips crashing against yours.
You gasped into the kiss and you felt him smile for a brief moment, perhaps satisfied to have gotten you back from your blatant teasing. Your hands moved on their own, muscle memory cupping his neck and nape, scooping up his flowy hair as you nudged him closer.
Breaking the kiss for one moment, you slipped from underneath him so he laid flat on the porch, then positioned yourself to his side, rushing back to his puffy lips with a vengeance.
Your tongue nudged his lips cheekily, and Thorin’s hand instinctively flew to your back, stroking it gently as he welcomed you in, chest heaving as the air escaped him. The other was resting firmly on your cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing against the delicate shell of your ear.
The formerly mild summer night had turned heated, the silence now filled with the sound of your passionate kissing and heavy breathing. The ever watchful moon was the sole discreet witness to your fiery display of love.
Your lips were anchored to Thorin’s, while your hand ventured further and further under his tunic, stroking his hairy torso and digging your fingers into his soft belly. He rocked slightly under your touch, flinching and moaning on your mouth when you found his most sensitive spot. You worked him intentionally, grabbing his breast, then flicking his nipple, circling around it with the perfect amount of pressure as he squirmed under you, gasping for air.
He whispered a curse under his breath that you kissed away promptly, fingers now eagerly picking at the band of his breeches.
“Lanselê” Thorin murmured, pleading. “Let’s go inside.” His voice was raspy and low with desire.
You obliged, taking your intimate moment from under the stars, under the roof of your home.
Summary: You and Thorin disagree over your recent choices, and it seems this argument can only be settled one way...
Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, Pin V sex, fingering
Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience. I know this took a lot longer to post than I thought. The smuttier chapters always take me longer to write because I know those are the ones we all read the most😂 I promise it will be worth the wait and there will be plenty more to follow!♥
Word count: 3913
You shout his name in protest, kicking and struggling in his grasp. But his seething rage seems to have only made him stronger. He doesn’t even flinch when you beat your fists against the broad muscles of his back. And every effort you make to kick him in the face is easily dodged as he carries you up the stairs.
Bertram is following right behind him.
“Put my dancer down this instant!” he demands, struggling to keep up with Thorin’s angry strides.
“This is why I told you not to let him find out!” you shout from over his shoulder.
"You put her up to this?!” a yelp escapes you as Thorin whirls around at the top of the stairs, still dangling you over his shoulder. You can feel the growl reverberating against where your thighs are pinned to his chest.
“It was her idea,” you hear Bertram scoff. “Did you really think accommodating so many of you at once would come cheap? I was prepared to throw you out on your asses until she offered an encore performance to sweeten the deal.”
“Encore?!” Thorin’s grip tightens around your legs and you’re suddenly very grateful that you can’t see his face right now.
“An encore that has yet to be completed thanks to you. So either she goes back out there and puts on one heck of a performance or you and the rest of your companions will need to find accommodations elsewhere tonight.”
“From what I saw, she’s already given you more than enough of a ‘performance’ for one night. You and I can come to another arrangement in the morning but she will not be stepping foot on that stage again as long as I live.”
“That might not be as long as you think if you don’t put me down this instant, Thorin!”
He ignores your protests as he continues down the hallway, kicking open the door and depositing you back on your feet in the middle of the room.
You immediately rip his cloak off of you, balling it up and tossing it back at him. But it just falls to the floor in a pile as he turns his back to you. Opening your pack he starts to pull out various articles of clothing, tossing them over his shoulder to you.
“Get dressed,” he grunts. Shirts, pants, chemises, and skirts sail through the air but you merely bat them all away in defiance. It’s almost like he expected you to refuse when he looks over his shoulder at you. When he runs out of your clothes to toss at you, he simply starts to toss some of his own instead.
“Lack of clothing isn’t the problem here,” you remind him.
“Then what is?” he snaps, kicking discarded piles of clothing out of the way as he stalks closer to you. “Temporary insanity? Lack of attention?”
“Yes, Thorin,” you scoff, taking a step closer to him until the two of you are practically chest to chest. “I was so desperate for your attention that I decided to take my clothes off in front of a crowd of strangers.”
“You’d dance half naked for strangers but Mahal forbid people find out we have any kind of intimate relationship.”
“Are you still upset about that?!” you roll your eyes. “Not everything I do is about you, Thorin. It’s like Bertram said: he wanted to charge us far more gold than even Smaug has right now. We have a history, so I offered to do him a favor in exchange for lodging.”
“A history?” he scoffs.
“Yes, a history,” you snap. “I told you I used to be a tavern dancer to pay my way across middle earth. This tavern happened to be a frequent stop for me. Now quit deflecting!”
“I’m not the one deflecting, lass.”
“Then what do you call it when someone is pretending to be upset about information they already knew, in order to avoid talking about the real reason they’re angry?”
“What, pray tell, is the real reason I’m upset with you?”
You take a step closer to him, tipping your head back until the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I fixed things and it kills you. You can’t stand the fact that I was able to solve a problem for you. Mahal forbid the great Thorin Oakenshield show any signs of weakness, let alone allow a woman to solve a problem for him.”
“Now who’s deflecting?” he smirks and you let out an angry huff, crossing your arms over your scantily clad chest.
Thorin’s gaze dips down to where your breasts are pressed together above the shelf of your arms. He takes in the sight of your provocative attire for the first time in this new setting. Very little is left to the imagination in your current state. You have to resist the urge to shudder at the chill his gaze sends down your spine as he studies every inch of your exposed skin. His jaw clenches and you know he’s remembering just how many people were recently looking at the exact same ensemble.
He brings a hand to your chin, tipping your head back so you have no choice but to look directly at his scowling face. “No one gets to see you like this ever again, understood?” he growls and the corners of your mouth quirk up.
“Let me guess, except for you? That’s quite selfish of you Thorin.”
“I don’t care,” his grip tightens on your jaw, pulling you closer to him until your lips are just a breath away from each other. “You’re mine.”
He devours you hungrily, pulling your bodies closer together. Your hands slide up his chest, clawing at the fabric separating the two of you.
“Mine,” he repeats with a low growl, abruptly releasing his grip on your face and taking a step back. Before you can protest, he is tossing you over his shoulder yet again. You let out a gasp as he tightens his grip around your bare thighs.
Trudging through the piles of discarded clothes on the floor, Thorin crosses the room to toss you down on the bed. You go to push yourself up onto your forearms but he is already climbing up your body to tower over you. Your lungs are heavy with the intoxicating scent of him as he pulls your mouth back to his. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you, wanting his entire body weight to crash down on you until there isn’t any air left inside of you.
You shudder in delight when he breaks from your lips to kiss a path along your neck to nip at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he says again, rising above you to fully admire your form trapped beneath him.
“Mine to touch,” his hands brush along your collarbone, traveling farther down your chest to trace the swell of your breasts. He bunches up the strip of fabric covering your top, lifting it to expose you fully. You think he’s just going to untie it, but instead, he tears the thin strip of fabric in two.
“Mine to admire,” he continues, ignoring the way your jaw has dropped at the loss of your only performance attire. Thorin doesn’t seem like he’s planning on letting you go anywhere in an outfit of that kind ever again, so perhaps it was part of his plan all along.
You narrow your eyes up at him in defiance, but he only smirks down at you. Watching the anger leave your eyes the moment his warm hands cup your breasts. Your jaw drops open again, but this time to release a moan as he squeezes and massages the flesh between his fingers.
“Mine to enjoy,” he declares keeping his eyes locked on yours as he lowers his face down to one of your breasts. Continuing to massage the other he gently sucks and bites at your now sensitive buds.
They’ve begun to darken and perk up ever since they were given his attention and he wastes no time worshiping the two mounds of flesh before him.
Wrapping your legs around his midsection you pull him closer to you, arching your back off the bed as you start to grind your core up against the hardness you feel trying to escape from his trousers.
Thorin gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh in his mouth and you groan at the sensation. Impatiently, you begin to tug at the edge of his shirt, desperate to have access to just as much of his skin as he does of yours.
Relenting to your unspoken wishes, he sits back upright above you slipping the material overhead. Your fingers connect with the warm skin exposed to you, tracing the muscles and ridges with your fingertips. You start to chart a path farther down his abdomen towards where you’re aching for him. You stop when your fingers brush against the rough material of the bandage you wrapped around his midsection. You were so caught up in your desire you completely forgot that he’s still seriously injured. Your hands go still, hesitantly hovering over the wound.
Maybe this isn’t the time. Despite how badly you want Thorin to fuck you into the mattress right now, you can’t risk doing any further damage. Especially with the rest of the journey still ahead of you.
You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice Thorin’s hooked a finger under your jaw until he’s tipping your head up to look at him. “I’m fine,” he assures you but you still scrunch your nose up in thought.
“We should wait until you’re feeling better, as your physician I-”
He lets out a laugh, bringing his face down closer to yours. “You’re not a physician, lass,”
“I didn’t say I was a physician, I said I was your physician. I tended to the wound, I think that makes me responsible for its-”
He cuts you off again, this time with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You’re a truly maddening woman,” he whispers into your mouth, “and I won’t feel better until I’ve sufficiently had my way with you.”
“I suppose that could be considered an alternative form of treatment,” you mumble, all concerns disappearing from your mind as he brings your mouth back to his.
Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping the strands to pull him closer to you until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. The way he smells, the way he tastes, the way the warmth radiating off of his skin makes all the blood rush to your cheeks.
The rough pads of his fingertips trace delicate lines down your stomach, disappearing underneath the remaining piece of clothing covering your aching core. His fingers circle your clit with a touch so featherlight it elicits a needy whine from your lips.
“Please,” you whisper hoarsely against his lips. You’ve both been denied this pleasure so many times today alone. If your poor dripping cunt doesn’t receive some attention soon, you fear you might melt into a puddle beneath him.
Your fingers give a firm yank to his locks again, and with a warning growl, he plunges two fingers deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, pressing your bare breasts against his chest as your mouth opens with a silent scream. Your eyes see nothing but stars and yet you can sense that self righteous smirk on Thorin’s face as he starts pumping his fingers inside you with a steady pace, stroking your inner walls in that one thrilling spot that makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.
“I know you don’t like to listen, darling,” he whispers above you, “but here is one order I know you will follow,” blinking, your eyes start to focus again on Thorin’s face looking down at you with a wicked smile. His eyes are filled with a darkness that makes your core clench around his fingers as he quickens his pace, bringing his thumb to trace circles on your swollen bud.
“Come for me,” he commands. And you do, without a second thought. Yanking a hand free you clamp your palm over your mouth to cover the cry of pleasure that escapes you. He doesn’t let up on his ministrations, even when your other hand tightens at his scalp so fiercely it’s a miracle you haven’t yanked a fist full of hair out yet.
With a heavy sigh, your body finally goes limp beneath him.
Chuckling, Thorin gently removes his hand from your spent cunt, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips hungrily. Your jaw drops at the sight, never breaking eye contact as he cleans every drop of your juices from his skin.
It looks so appetizing when he does it, you can’t help but stick your tongue out, batting your eyelashes up at him in the hopes that he’ll share. With a knowing smile, he is slipping his soaked fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. His eyes go wide in excitement, not only from the seal your lips have created around his fingers but also because your own fingers have slipped into his trousers. You wrap them firmly around his hardened cock, stroking as much of it as you can reach.
With his fingers in your mouth and his cock in your hand you look up at him with a pleading look in your eyes.
“So needy,” he chides with a click of his tongue. “You want more already?” you nod enthusiastically from around his fingers.
He brings his lips to your temple with a gentle kiss. “How could I deny such a beautiful creature?” reluctantly pulling his soaked fingers from your mouth, he reaches for his ever tightening trousers to finally free his member for your use.
Bringing your fingers down to your soaked bottoms, you slip them down your legs as far as you can. Kicking his trousers free, Thorin pulls the soaked fabric the rest of the way down your ankles discarding them somewhere in the mess behind you.
“Spread your legs for me, lass,” he commands, towering over you as he strokes his throbbing member in his hand. Blinking in shock, you open your legs wide for him, less from the command more from the sight of the cock before you.
You were far from a virgin at this point in your life. You’d met many different people throughout your travels and as a result you’ve had multiple lovers over the years. But try as you might to rack your brain you can’t think of a single cock you’ve seen that’s nearly as magnificent as Thorin’s.
It’s long and girthy, just looking at the strong member makes your cunt clench in anticipation.
“Fuck me Thorin,” you look up at him pleading, suddenly desperate to have it inside you, “please.”
“Mahal,” Thorin scoffs, “I don’t recall ever hearing you ask for something so nicely.”
Bringing a hand to your exposed thigh he starts to brush the tip of his cock against your weeping entrance, gathering all the wetness he can as he lets out a chuckle at the desperate whines escaping you in anticipation.
Finally lining himself up with your entrance, he brings his free hand to the mattress beside your face, caging you beneath him. He looks down at your face one final time, searching for any sign that you aren’t as desperate for this as he is.
“Fuck me,” you ask again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And don’t be gentle.” You whisper into his ear.
That’s all the encouragement he needs, with a grunt he slams into you so quickly it knocks the breath out of your lungs. You nails scrape against his back as they scramble to find purchase while Thorin begins pounding his hips into you at a breakneck speed.
Honoring your request, he is not the least bit gentle with you. Your cries of pleasure are quickly drowned out by the sounds of slapping skin as he relentlessly thrusts into you so hard the bed begins to tremble beneath the two of you.
Let it break. You think to yourself. Nothing could pull either of you out of this cloud of lust that envelopes you. If it shatters beneath you, you’re certain Thorin will just continue pounding into you on top of the rubble.
“So tight,” he growls, “so warm. Feels just like heaven, I knew it would.”
You bite your bottom lip at the thought of Thorin fantasizing about this very moment. You can so clearly see him with his cock in his hand, imagining it was your cunt clenching around him just as it is now.
Untangling your arms from around his neck, Thorin reaches for your wrists, pinning them to the pillow above your head. “Don’t move them,” he commands with a sharp snap of his hips that makes you yelp.
Continuing a steady pace, he reaches for your legs behind him. Pressing one of your knees into your chest, he tosses the other over his shoulder. Gently kissing the exposed flesh of your calf he resumes his pace in this new position.
Throwing your head back you release a guttural moan, clenching your hands into fists above your head. With each thrust, Thorin hits deeper and deeper places inside yourself that seemed to have been previously left unexplored.
Every time the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix it makes you cry out louder in ecstasy. You’re itching to bring your hands back down to cover your mouth and suppress the noises the rest of the tavern will surely have heard by now.
“Keep them there,” Thorin reminds you, watching intently as you struggle to obey him. “I want them to hear.” He growls. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
He removes your leg from his shoulder to press it down against your chest like the other, folding you in half and pinning you into the mattress by the backs of your thighs.
“Say it,” he commands, leaning over you as he somehow increases his speed even more.
You groan beneath him, you know exactly what he wants from you but you can barely string together a coherent thought right now, let alone a sentence.
“Say it,” he says again, bringing a hand to your jaw to force your eyes to look directly into his.
“I’m yours, Thorin” you whimper beneath him and he crashes his lips into yours.
“Louder, lass,” his pace becomes more frantic and you can tell that he’s getting close.
Looking directly into his dazzling blue eyes you cry out: “I’m all yours.”
In just the nick of time, he pulls out of you with a shaky moan, spilling his seed all over your stomach.
The room is filled with the sounds of you both panting breathlessly. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Your limbs feel so weak you can do nothing but lay on the bed in a post-orgasmic puddle, your eyelids starting to droop closed. You feel the mattress shift as Thorin rises from between your legs. You peel an eye open just in time to see him cross the room, still completely naked, to grab a wet rag.
He catches you watching him as he turns back to you, a gentle smile on his face as he returns to your side.
You can’t recall the last time you saw him look so… relaxed. His familiar scowl is nowhere to be seen as he gently wipes the cloth across your stomach and between your legs, a look of utter bliss on his face as he watches you watch him with a soft smile.
Once he’s wiped you clean he starts to rummage through the mess of clothing still littering the floor. You can spot dozens of your blouses and chemises from where you lay on the bed, but Thorin still grabs one of his own shirts from the pile.
“Sit up for me, a moment,” he asks gently. You push your aching limbs upright as best you can, Thorin’s hand hovering at your back to help you upright.
He slips his clean shirt over your head, helping to navigate your arms through the sleeves.
“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you lay back down.
Once you’re settled back into a horizontal position he grabs for another set of clothing. You watch silently as he pulls on his shirt and pants from earlier. He reaches for his boots next and your brow furrows.
Is he leaving? Now that he’s gotten what he wanted from you and made a mess of the room. Is he just going to walk out that door and find another place to sleep for the night?
Thorin spots your look of confusion as he pulls his other boot on. “Don’t fret lass,” he assures you, “I’ll be right back.”
He gently slips out the door and you listen to the heavy sounds of his footsteps retreating down the hall. Your eyelids are still heavy, and you’re fighting sleep that threatens to overtake you. Only a few minutes pass until you hear him returning.
Shifting in the bed you push yourself up onto your forearms with a yawn as he reenters the room. You can smell the stew before he even opens the door and it instantly makes your mouth water.
“You missed dinner,” he reminds you, passing the warm dish into your waiting hands. “I had a previous engagement,” you reply with a mouth full of broth.
“Don’t remind me,” he growls as he kicks his boots back off, locking the door behind him.
“I’d say it worked out pretty well for the both of us,” you shrug. Thorin doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room to you, pulling the blankets out from underneath your bottom to tuck you into the bed fully.
By the time he’s wrapped you up underneath the covers and climbed in beside you, you’ve already inhaled the entire bowl. He laughs as you set it down on the bedside table with a hiccup. You sink deeper into the covers beside him and he reaches his hand up to your face, wiping a dribble from the corner of your mouth.
“Tomorrow we continue our journey,” he informs you and you nod in understanding. “In that case I certainly hope I’ll be able to walk in the morning.”
He laughs and pulls you into his chest. “I’d carry you,” he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. “I’ll carry you all the way home if I have to.”
You hum in contentment as you let yourself burrow deeper into his chest. Ignoring the stab of guilt in your chest when he says the word ‘home’.
It may have been your home in the past but it can’t be any longer. You wonder if you should tell him that you don’t plan to stay in Erebor long enough to call it home again. But then he begins to trace patterns with his fingertips over your lower back and you feel your eyes start to flutter closed.
Not now, you tell yourself. Not tonight.
Because you’re realizing that there is nowhere else in Middle Earth you’d rather be right now, than wrapped up in Thorin’s warm embrace. And you don’t dare do anything to spoil this perfect moment.
