Understanding (Care For Series)

Originally posted by emilythelotrfan

Pair: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (a pretty short one too lol) + Gandalf being a sweet fatherly figure

Genre: Arguing, Angst, Fluff

Prompt/s“Are you okay?” “ Just how stupid do you think I am?”

A/N: Hello everyone! I thought I would write a few imagines from the Hobbit with Thorin x reader feels, and maybe even other characters if I get the extra time. Hope your all taking care of yourselves, and I apologise for not posting a lot, year 12 is taking the kick out of me and need a way to chill. If you wish to request, please do but it will take me a while to attend to them. Enjoy!| Inspiration:thereandbackagainimagines

Masterlist + Hobbit Masterlist

‘Y/N, may I introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of this company and the heir to Erebor’s throne.’ I couldn’t help but smile at the dwarf, aged but still the stoic image of a true leader.

With a small smile, I gave a bow, ‘I am at your service your Majesty, and would be humbled to join your quest.’ Thorin was silent, his eyes roving over my form before turning to Gandalf. ‘She’s not welcome to join us.’

I was flabbergasted. ‘Um-I-uh-Beg pardon-What?’

‘She can’t come with us and thats final!’ I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the stubbornness of the King under the Mountain . Gandalf was, and had been a good friend to me, someone who had taught and advised me for many years of my life, and on a visit to Bree, he requested that I should join his quest alongside the desperate dwarf King to reclaim his home.

Usually I would deny his requests to join him on many of his journey’s, but after hearing the stories of these dwarves losing their home all over the greediness of a single dragon made me tremble, and agreed immediately. However I was now coming to regret that decision and sympathy towards them, especially their so called King.

‘Thorin be reasonable now! This woman is giving up her own safety to help you reclaim your home! Don’t you have any gratitude left to show?!’ Gandalf cried, only to be met with Thorin’s scoff, some of his company members chuckling, ‘And why should I be grateful accepting the help from a miserable human like you.’

‘You should accept all the help you can get, wasn’t it your own kind who believed this journey wasn’t even worth the time and didn’t come to your aid?! Huh?!’  At this they all went silent, Thorin’s lips now in a firm, tight line as I turned towards the wizard who towered over me, ‘Do you really expect that I’m going to help a ungrateful arrogant dwarf like him Gandalf? Think again!’

‘My dear please, lets speak about this-’

‘Let her go Gandalf!’ Thorin bellowed as he went into the sitting room without turning, ‘Good riddance if you ask me.’ 

The dwarves went silent at their leader’s exclamation, some casting dirty look towards him. With a growl of anger, I pushed past Gandalf and the little hobbit who scrambled out of my way as I slammed the door of him once cosy home open.

I never should have left home, I thought to myself. This is what I get when I want to try and help others. 

With home the only set destination, I continued my way down the path, ignoring the distant voices that called my name, only to stop when a firm hand grabbed my arm, twisting me around to face the blond bearded dwarf, a brunette also standing by his side, Fili and Kili I think it was.

‘I apologise for our Uncle’s bad behaviour. I know he can be a bit of a pain … at times.’ I scoffed. ‘At times?’

The blond one just smiled at this, shaking his head, ‘Well maybe a lot. But he has his good side too like everyone does. He’s gone through quite a lot in the past few years. I guess he just has a lot of trouble trusting other races other than his own kin.’

‘I can see that!’ I say, running a hand through my hair with a huff, ‘Well I know when I’m not welcome to a party. I reckon I should get going I lose the light of the sunset-’

‘Well that’s the thing, we - saying me and my brother Fili - would like you to join our journey to the mountain.’ I looked towards them quickly, confusion painting my features as he just smiled, ‘I know you must be confused, but were not like our uncle. We would like all the help that we can muster, especially the intelligence of another species.’ 

‘Are you trying to flatter me?’

‘Well don’t they say flattery is the best persuasion?’ Fili knocked his brother over the head, muttering in Khuzdul only to earn him a groan and I couldn’t help but smile at this, shaking my head, ‘Very well I’ll join you if that’s what you want!’ 

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small-flame  asked:

Please continue the Bagginshield historian au! From just the intro I want to know what happens next!

(by popular demand – also requested by @hoomhum, @thewarriorprincessinthefield, @emsiecat, @dellvanity and of course @kaavyawriting)

[part 1]

King Thorin leads him to a tent at the back of the camp, where two Dwarven guards stand, heavily armed. Bilbo eyes them as he passes into the tent, which is decorated with rich tapestries, a map on the far wall, and even a table. Thorin gestures to a chair on one side of the table and sits down after Bilbo does, pulling a pipe from one of his many pockets and lighting it.

Bilbo doesn’t recognize the pipeweed – and he has smoked with many Dwarves in the past.

“So,” Thorin says, breathing out a thick cloud of smoke, “you say you are from the Shire.”

Bilbo frowns a little, wary of the small crowd of Dwarves lingering at the entryway. “I am from the Shire, make no mistake. I’m not certain how I even came here, or where this is.” I’m not even certain what year it is, he doesn’t say.

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TTB -- Training

Title: Touch the Butts Hobbit Edition—Training

 Summary: You were a simple office worker, until a twist of fate sends you tumbling into Middle Earth and into the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.  You don’t know what to expect, you don’t know if you will survive, but you have this feeling that there is a great love story in the making.  But who will be the one you are destined to be with?  Make your choice and Touch the Butts.  

 Warnings: Language. Innuendos of a sexual nature. Flirting.

 Start From the Beginning

Originally posted by tinysofia

“Shit!”  You hissed as your sword slipped from your grip again.  Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, everything was just sore, and this wasn’t helping matters much.  

“You gotta keep a hold of it!”  Dwalin scolded for the second time.  

“I’m trying!” You bit back as you bent over and retrieved your sword.  Today was your first day of training and Dwalin decided to start with how to properly hold and grip your sword.  The company helped you decide on a weapon, many of them letting to test out with their own weapons before deciding.  

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Much Needed Comfort...Kili x Reader...

Imagine five years after the Battle of the Five Armies, Kili was left with some battle scars/wounds and he has deep problems with how they make him look. One night he comes into a tavern in Dale and you show him he’s beautiful and still deserves love.

((I had an idea where I wanted Kili to be comforted – sort of as an alternate to Fili comforting him – where someone other than Fili was there for him. And this is what the idea ended up being. I hope you like it))

Word Count: 2,720

Warning: Mention of past!child abuse…but not too much but…still…be warned. NO SMUT.

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Where you go, I follow

Originally posted by tinysofia

So I was having too much free time on my hands and this is the result. I`m not sure yet, is it going be 3-5 parts long or does it turn into a series. Do tell what you think. I have to give little credit for @princess-of-erebor1992 who helped me figure out the town´s name, ( so it isn´t mine originally ) and how to proceed with this. Thank you sweetheart!

Warnings: none

Pairing: Thorin x reader 

Again, english isn´t my first language so any mistakes / errors that are occured grammatically, I`m sorry. You have been warned. Enjoy!   

part 1 part 2 part 3

Sun was already going down when you reached borders of The Shire. You sighed and pulled your dark green cloak´s hood over your head, hoping that either you reach your destination before midnight or find somewhere safe enough to make camp. How in the world you ended up into this situtation in the first place? Oh yes…..thanks to a certain wizard, that`s how. Honestly, why he had to come and ruin your happy life you had managed to built in Ered Luin. As your horse continued to walk steadily towards the woods, your mind wandered back to the time when you first met your fiance and your friendship started to form.


You walked down the busy cobblestoned street middle of the human town looking around. Everyone was busy doing their own business, small shops settled alongside the street were open for today and the noise what came from people who were buzzing with each other made your head spin.
You liked visiting in the markets but it was also very exhausting because you weren´t exactly someone who enjoyed the massive crowds but you needed a new weapon, so here you were, navigating throught it as best as you could, hoping to find what you are looking for so you can get back on the road.

You were so deep in your own mind that you didn´t pay much of attention where you were going. Suddenly you bumped into something hard…..and sturdy.
“I´m sorry, didn´t mean to……” you started looking up to see what or who did you stumble upon to. But you never get to finish your sentence because your breath is caught up in your throat.The person turnes to look at you with the most piercing and beautiful sapphire blue eyes you´ve ever seen. Raven black locks sway lightly at the morning breeze and you can´t help but to stare at the stranger right in the eyes like you´re under a spell.
“The fault is mine, my lady, I shouldn´t stand in the middle of the road.”  a velvety, baritone voice said making you shiver. Apparently your silent mouth-open, eyes wide-stare got him worried, because he then touched your shoulder giving it a light squeeze. “Are you alright, my lady?”  This snapped you back to reality and offered him a shy smile. “Yes…..I´m alright. I´m sorry if I stared at you. It was very rude of me.”  A stranger chuckled quietly, dropping his hand of your shoulder. “May I ask your name?”
Looking up a little surprised and hesitated for a moment before answering. “Y/N, at your service. And you are….? If I may ask?”

“Thorin Oakenshield, at yours.”
he answered slightly bowing his head. Thorin? No…..The Thorin?? Your whole body stiffened at the realization of who was standing in front of you.  "No way……“ you spoke out loud before you could bite your tongue. The second those two words came out of your mouth, you slapped your left hand over it taking a step back. Thorin smirked and was clearly amused by your reaction. ” I assume you know who I am then.“  You let out a small sound that was something between a squeal and a groan. ”…..yes…..You are the heir to the throne of Erebor, son Thrâin, son of Thrôr.“ you said, starting to fiddle the hem of your tunic. God, you couldn`t remember the last time you were this nervous.  ” And you are one of the Rangers of the North.“
You were shocked at first, that Thorin would recognise you as a ranger. But then again….your clothes were the first clue. Dark green trousers, black leather boots, green shirt matching your cloak, which was held by cloak-clasp shaped like a 6-pointed star. Your bow in your back was also quite unique looking which also told Thorin that you were little more than just another daughter of Men. Look on his face was curious as his gaze wandered over you slowly. "I´m little curious…..What a ranger like yourself is doing here?”

You bit your lower lip, you weren´t sure if you wanted to tell him how you managed to lose your sword while fighting your way out of Rohan. Damn those orcs. You heard about this town from a fellow rangers, telling that Caryd Luin had the best weapons, mainly because they were made by dwarves. The town located near Ered Luin or Blue Mountains as race of Men liked to called it. Thorin was patiently waiting for you to answer him. Sighing you threw your head back looking up to the sky for a moment and finally decided to tell him why you were there. He listened without interrupting you. When you finished, he lifted one of his eyebrows. “Why you are so embarrassed by it? Even the greatest and the most skilled warriors can lose their weapons in the heat of battle… me, it can happen even to the best of us.” Thorin comfort you. Why he was doing that? He doesn´t know you. He´s not obligated to do that to a mere stranger. Why would he take his time to make you feel better, it was beyond your understanding.
Thorin turned his back on you and started to walk away but stopped after few steps and looked back at you. “Are you coming?”   “What?” you blinked not quite understanding why you should follow him. You looked around the people who weren´t paying attention to the two of you. Great, if you needed help, count them out. “You need a new sword. I can help you with that.” Thorin stated in a matter-of-fact way and started walking and you didn´t have much of a choice but to follow him. He knew this town better than you after all.

You followed him to the area where you could see one of the blacksmith´s forgery was located. Silently you followed Thorin inside and felt little uneasy at first. “So….what kind of sword you had in mind?” Thorin asked walking towards the worktop taking out a parchment and a piece of charcoal. “What?” you stared at him bewildered expression on your face. Did you hear him correctly? “What kind of sword did you have in mind?” he repeated turning to look at you. Was he gonna….no way….really? Oh yes he was. The Thorin Oakenshield was going to forge you a sword. You couldn´t believe your luck. “Ummm….the kind of sword that I`m able to wield with ease, I suppose. I don´t like it to be too heavy or too long, given that I´m kind a small person.” you tapped your chin while answering and looked how Thorin made notes. “So you prefer short sword?” he asked glancing up from the parchment before continued writing. You nodded letting your gaze taking in Thorin´s appearance. He was surpisingly tall for a dwarf, his beard was short and you saw at least two silver beads fastened into his braids. His arms were muscular enough, tell-tale sign of the strength that was hiding under that skin. His broad chest almost beckoning you to kiss and caress it, sturdy middle and strong tights….Oh, he was one fine looking male, his whole demeanor screaming “I´m alpha, don´t mess with me.” It almost made you want to moan out loud.

Someone clearing his throat got you  back from thinking the most inappropriate thoughts and you focused your eyes on Thorin´s face. The look on his face told you that he had caught your gaze and knew exactly what you were thinking. Your face turned almost crimson and lowered your eyes trying to avoid his intense stare. For Valar´s sake girl! Get a hold of yourself! This is not the time or the place to crave that hot and sinfully handsome dwarf prince like you are some lovesick yearling.

You haven´t noticed that when you were having  your little daydream, Thorin had also let his gaze wander over you again, now that he had more time and there wasn´t dozen or so humans walking around him forcing him to be aware of his surroundings. You were small, only about Thorin´s height and quite slender. Your long Y/H/C hair falling down your back in light waves. Thorin also noticed that althought you were slim, you still had curves and all in the right places which made Thorin painfully aware of the stirring in his trousers. And that blush on your face was quite cute in his eyes. There was no denying it, there was definitely a mutual attraction between you two. He felt a strong pull like flame attracted a moth to fly into it. “What did I get myself into this time?”  Thorin thought to himself looking at you with dilated pupils feeling his heart rate quickening. Shaking his head he turned his attention back to the parchment and tried to calm himself. This was going to be a very long day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the fall of Khazad-dum to Durin’s Bane. And honestly I’m very angry with how the Dwarves are blamed for this: that they were greedy and so they got what was coming. That’s more or less how the narrative on this goes. I’ve seen this thought in analyses I’ve read and it’s pretty plain in the books. Look at this quote from Gandalf:

“The Dwarves tell no tale; but even as mithril was the foundation of their wealth, so also it was their destruction: they delved too greedily and too deep, and disturbed that from which they fled, Durin’s Bane.” (Fellowship of the Ring)

I’m not saying that the mining of the Dwarves didn’t cause the Balrog to reappear (whether the mining woke him up from sleep or made it possible to escape from where he was). But I’m angry at they way it’s talked about. No one knows better than the Dwarves the calamity that waking the Balrog was. But instead of talking about how it was a tragic accident, people talk about how it was the greed of Dwarves that caused it and I take serious issue.

First off, how could the Dwarves have known the Balrog was there? Do you think they would have kept mining in that direction if they knew? How were they supposed to know how deep was too deep? It would have been bizarre for them to all of a sudden be like “ahh yes, we’ve dug deep enough, no more mithril mining for us.” I don’t think the other races of Middle Earth, especially Elves, would appreciate that (I’ll talk about this a bit later).

So it comes back to greed and the idea that coveting something so much will ultimately lead to your downfall. It’s a popular trope (the trope is literally named Dug Too Deep and I’ll give you one guess at the trope namer) and honestly, it’s a tired one. Almost everything bad that has happened to Dwarves has supposedly happened out of their greed, at least according to outside perspectives on the events. A dragon came to Erebor resulting in a huge number of deaths and the subsequent exile of the survivors? Yeah, all because King Thrór was too greedy and coveted riches too much. Thorin and his nephews died in Battle of Five Armies? Definitely because Thorin got too greedy with the gold in the mountain and coveted the Arkenstone too much. A Balrog reappeared and drove the Dwarves of Khazad-dum out? Well, you can see where I’m going. The idea that bad things happen to Dwarves simply because they were greedy is not a unique idea and it is also an antisemitic one.

Another thing that irks me is how sort of high and mighty people of other races get when talking about it. Like I mentioned before, you get the feeling that people don’t really sympathize with the fact that a hell demon just appeared in their home and killed dozens of their people, including their king, and drove the survivors out of a place sacred to their people. Honestly, what the fuck? How can you reduce that level of horrifying tragedy down to “they were greedy and that’s why this happened”? 

And beyond the seeming total lack of sympathy for the Dwarves, consider the fact that there was probably a huge market for mithril. We know the Elves wanted it:

Mithril! All folk desired it. It could be beaten like copper, and polished like glass; and the Dwarves could make of it a metal, light and yet harder than tempered steel. Its beauty was like to that of common silver, but the beauty of mithril did not tarnish or grow dim. The Elves dearly loved it, and among many uses they made of it ithildin, starmoon, which you saw upon the doors.” (Fellowship of the Ring)

So of course the Dwarves were mining for more. Lots of people in Middle Earth wanted it. It probably brought in a lot of wealth, and I’m going to argue that prosperous Dwarven colonies increase the prosperity of surrounding settlements. Look at how while Erebor was wealthy, men in Dale were also prosperous based on trade. Even the Elves of Greenwood were probably better off while Erebor was prosperous. But besides that, why would the Dwarves randomly stop mining for mithril when there was such a demand for it? It wouldn’t make sense and I have no idea how that could really be called Dwarven greed. Besides, who is giving these weird retellings about how their greed for mithril caused the Balrog to wake up? Not Dwarves, that’s for sure, and throughout the books other races continuously have poor opinions of the Dwarves and treat them terribly. So I’m extremely skeptical of this idea.

Basically, I seriously mistrust anything an Elf or Man has to say about Dwarves and take it with a huge grain of salt because they have continuously demonstrated an unfounded disdain towards them. How can they blame the fall of Khazad-dum on the Dwarves getting greedy for mithril when they themselves were creating a large demand for mithril? How is it that all they can say about the fall of Khazad-dum is that the Dwarves were greedy? So many Dwarves died. The ones that didn’t lost their home. All Dwarves lost a sacred place. Citing greed as the reason for the Balrog every time the story is told is heartless, misguided, and antisemitic.

Sansukh Re-read Ch.2

Okay, posting of chapter 2 ended up being delayed, because I had to run to the store and then crashed after I got home (getting up at four, five, and then six in the morning for three consecutive days will do that to you). Good news is, it’s a new day and I have very little that I need to do, so I can indulge in one of my favorite hobbies (reading, it’s tied with writing for first place), and squeal some more over this amazing story :)

Dwarrows centuries-dead greeted him, and as his sight returned he occasionally found himself brought up short by a familiar face or a vague family resemblance. Surely that was a Durin nose – surely those were the family ears! He walked around in a haze of recognition and bewilderment.

Kind of reminds me of one of my thoughts about the afterlife. If there’s something after death, will you get to see /all/ your family? Even people related to you but you’ve never met? No wonder poor Thorin’s confused, especially after how sudden his death was. Fíli and Kíli seem to be bouncing back a little faster, but they are younger and they don’t have as much grief and guilt as Thorin does, even if they’ve got their fair share.

Thorin’s grandmother, Queen Hrera, fussed and tutted over him more than she ever had as a young dwarfling. It took all his patience to refrain from reminding her that he was in fact older than her now, and had more white in his hair and beard than she had ever managed. Not that she would have listened, anyhow. The women of his family had always been even more mulish than the men. Fíli and Kíli smirked a lot whenever she managed to corral him and tweak his cheek.

He had his revenge when Hrera descended on them in turn and promptly began to plait Kíli’s hair.

Another OC I love? Hrera. Prim, proper, and still completely able to put you in your place if need be. Likely while sitting and sipping tea while her family looked on in amusement because they know better. She reminds me a little of the dwarf version of Queen Clarisse, so I love that too, but there’s just a lot about Hrera that’s amazing. Especially as the story goes on, and we see more of her (like her reactions to learning about Dís and Durin Bomfrísul and her interactions with Radagast).

A Dwarf with a multitude of honey-coloured braids and a puckish, mischievous face came near, and Thorin’s mouth opened on a soft intake of breath. Then he grabbed the Dwarf’s shoulders and drew him into a rough embrace. “Víli.”

His brother-in-law silently pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you for raising them,” said Víli son of Vár. “Thank you for being there when I could not.”

Thorin fumbled for Víli’s hand and grasped it tightly. “They are the best of my life,” he said, and Víli’s eyebrows rose and the ghost of the impish grin that had captured Dís’ heart passed over his lips.

I’ve read a lot of stories that reference Dís’ husband, some who I like more than others, but Víli is one of my favorites. He’s the perfect compliment to Dís, especially at the time of her life when they’d met, and it’s easy to see that Fíli and Kíli inherited more than just some of his looks, even if they wouldn’t know that until they joined him. Also, imagining Víli watching over Dís, Fíli, and Kíli all their lives, desperately wanting to be able to join them, to comfort them when they’re upset and join in on the laughter during the good times? Recipe for tears.

His cousins Náin and Fundin, both Burned Dwarves of Azanulbizar, instantly crowded him with enthusiastic pleas for news of their sons. Though Mahal had mentioned that any Dwarf in the Halls could watch over their kin at any time, it appeared that the immediacy of his tales was greatly appreciated and sought after. Though it tore at his heart, Thorin told them all that he could remember. His old cousin Farin, father to Fundin and Gróin, was quiet and calm, a smile tugging at his lips as he listened to the stories of his four heroic grandsons of the Company – Balin, Dwalin, Óin and Glóin.

Gróin was the worst of the lot, however. He was so proud of his grandson he was likely to explode, and asked Fíli and Kíli for any tales of their young playfellow at any and every opportunity. At these times, Thorin would take the opportunity to slip away and explore.

Gróin reminds me a lot of Glóin, unsurprisingly. They’re both so proud of their family that it isn’t even funny. And Thorin knows enough from being around Glóin for awhile to know that slipping away is a good idea. I can’t really blame him, though, since he hasn’t really gotten to interact with Gimli and it’s been years since he’s seen either of his sons. Things like this, and like Víli’s story, are why you’ll be wishing for deaths on a Game of Thrones magnitude, alright? Because they’re all able to be together with their loved ones when they’re dead (except for poor Narvi and Kíli). This story takes ‘death is but the next great adventure’ to a whole new height.

It was all a mystery to Thorin. Where were the Halls located? Aman, yes, obviously -but where? Were these great mines and workshops located in the Halls of Mandos, the Doomsman of the Valar? Or did the Dwarves bide their long years of waiting within the mountains of Mahal, their maker?

And for that matter - whence came the wood for the forges? Where the cloth for the clothes? Where the food for the meals? No Dwarf could tell him, and most seemed grudgingly resigned to never knowing. Thorin’s temperament was not well-suited to such mysteries, and he began to eye each meal suspiciously until his mother told him to stop it and eat.

Can’t blame Thorin for that. I’d be curious too, although I’d probably be in the grudgingly resigned camp before too long. I’d work myself up too much otherwise. Good thing Frís is able to get him to stop worrying about it for the moment.

Thorin gave his brother a quick glance. Frerin’s normally merry face was solemn, his bright blue eyes dark. He noticed Thorin’s regard and the corner of his mouth twitched ruefully. “I spent a lot of time here,” he said, “sitting upon that bench. That one just over there. I watched you and Dís and Dwalin and Balin, watched you all grow older. Older, and harder… and colder.” He swallowed hard, and tugged absently at his forked beard. “Mother and I nearly broke down when you finally smiled again after Fíli’s birth. We’d almost forgotten what it looked like.”

It must have been painful, watching his family and friends change so much, getting so closed off, so worried and stressed and angry, and not being able to do anything at all about it. Again, things like this are why people advise you to stock up on tissues before re-reading this. The happy ending’s coming, but there’s a lot of angst they have to work through first.

“You bloody fool,” Dwalin sighed, and scrubbed at his face before standing awkwardly and making his way with careful steps to a shelf. There he pulled down a flask, tore out the cork with his teeth, and took a long swig.

“Somehow I don’t think that will help, brother,” came another familiar voice. Thorin whirled to see Balin in the doorway, his white hair covered by a filthy bandage and part of his magnificent beard cut close to reveal a nasty, jagged cut along his cheek and jaw. “And I’m fairly certain it wasn’t in Óin’s orders.”

“He’s got his medicines, I’ve got mine,” Dwalin growled, and took another sip.

Knowing Óin, that might have actually been in his orders. Yeah, you’re not supposed to drink when you’re injured, but Dwalin’s stubborn enough that he probably wouldn’t have accepted any normal pain relief, if they had it to spare, and considering that Óin gets blindingly drunk later on, it seems to be his way of dealing with emotional pain. Drink first, deal with it after the headache goes away. So, he probably would have realized that Dwalin needed it to help him? Not that Balin’s wrong, Dwalin needs to be talking about it instead of bottling everything up and drinking alone, but I’m thinking that Óin’s so busy that he wouldn’t have even lectured Dwalin if he’d found out.

Thorin closed his eyes, and when next they opened he was looking out at a hall covered in a sea of sluggish bodies. The hundreds upon hundreds of wounded were filling the air with their groans and cries, and Thorin bit down on a cry of his own as he saw the carnage the orcs had wrought.

Óin looked exhausted. His curled braids were frayed and his eyes were deep black pits in his sunken face. Glóin, Dori and Bilbo moved around him with mechanical movements, washing the wounded, feeding them, boiling water and smearing ointment on injuries. In a corner in a great rotted chair sat Nori, tearing cloth to make bandages. His left leg came to a shocking stop below his knee, and a metal peg – obviously Bofur’s work – sat half-finished beside him. Amongst the beds trudged Óin, drooping and ceaseless, his hands never still as he stitched and cut and wrapped. None of them spoke.

The ugly side of war that no one ever talks about. Even if it’s something like this, life or death battling against the orcs, that doesn’t mean that there will be no casualties. I mean, I love reading stories where all the good guys survive without any sort of injury as much as the next person, but this is a far more realistic look at it.

Dori’s face sagged, though his voice was brisk. “Yes indeed we will, Mister Glóin. This time, however, I’ll do it. Your sewing is atrocious, if you’ll pardon me saying.”

“I’m a banker, not a weaver,” Glóin retorted.

Oh Dori.

Dáin watched him go with weariness written all over his face, before turning back to the Elf. “Forgive him, Prince Legolas,” he said. “He suffered at the hands of your… hospitality, shall we call it? And later, of course, it seemed that Men and Elves alike would happily clamber over their corpses in order to steal that which rightfully belongs to our people. Dwarves do not quickly forget an injustice.”

Dáin might be better at using tact than Thorin, but he’s not going to just lie back and let anyone walk over him. Honestly, I love Dáin so much, and this fic only added to my mental image of him.

“Durin’s hammer and tongs,” Frerin whispered. “Did he… do you think he can…”

“I told you,” Thorin said thickly, “Mahal gave me a gift. They will sense my words in their deepest minds.”

Frerin stared at him.

“I know.” Thorin closed his eyes. “I am unworthy.”

“Not that,” Frerin said. “You must watch what you say! This is a power no Dwarf should have.”

Thorin frowned. “Why? They cannot hear my words as you do.”

“You could influence them without their knowing,” Frerin said, his bright youthful face unusually serious. “You must be careful, Thorin. They could act without knowledge of their actions.”

Opening his mouth to retort, Thorin abruptly recalled the subtle power of the gold and his desperate determination to see the treasures of his people safe in Dwarven hands. Troubled, he turned back to Dáin. “Aye.”

I was waiting for someone to say it, and Frerin didn’t disappoint in the slightest.

Dís blinked back her tears, and her hand tightened about the crushed message. “That prideful fool,” she rasped, her voice harsh with weeping.

“Aye,” Thorin said, and smiled through a fresh storm of shame. “A prideful fool who loves you. Though I die, that will never change. No veil of death can stop it.”

“Nothing ever stopped him,” she said, and buried her face in her hands once more. “Why did he never stop?”

“Line of Durin, sister,” he said, and swallowed roughly. “A proud… family trait.”

“Damn the Line of Durin to the nethermost pits of Moria,” she hissed into her palms, and her voice began to rise with barely-contained anguish. “Damn our line, and damn our pride, and damn our name, and damn our blind, wilful madness! Let the dragon have Erebor if it would bring them back to me! I would have them here! How am I to go on alone? My sons are gone! My brother gone! Our line is spent and I am alone!” She whirled and took up a cup on her dresser and flung it against the wall with a cry of rage and misery.

“You will go on,” said Thorin. “You will, daughter of Kings, best of sisters. You are as stubborn as the rest of us.”

She collapsed across her bed, and her tears began anew. Thorin stood and sighed.

I’m going to be saying this a lot, but poor Dís. Her husband, parents, brother and grandparents have been gone for years, and now her sons and only living sibling are gone as well and she’ll feel like she’s all alone. It’s around this point (if it didn’t already happen back when Víli was introduced), that you’ll hope that Dís joins her family soon. Instead, she lives a fairly long life, but she’s got a star to light up the darkness of her post-war life (yes, I know, I’m not even remotely subtle).

Thorin watched the young Dwarf work for a moment longer, noting the mechanical movements and the dogged persistence that kept one foot stepping in front of the other. “The lad is mourning his playfellows, and seeks to exhaust himself with work rather than weep,” he said.

“I have wept long enough,” Gimli muttered to himself. “Aye, and loudly too! Work is what is needed. Work will tire my mind and keep my thoughts quiet.”

“Thorin!” Frerin’s eyes widened in astonishment. “He hears you!”

“He hears me well, even more clearly than Dáin or Dís,” Thorin said slowly, and he tilted his head as he studied his youngest cousin further. Gimli laced his fingers and made the knuckles crack loudly, and then he hefted a sawn tree-round to the block and unslung a wood-axe from his belt. A strong boy, then. “He must be quite a perceptive lad. Glóin does well to be proud of him.”

Gimli’s more perceptive than anyone (in fandom especially) gives him credit for. He’s strong, yes, and great with an axe, but that’s not all he is. He’s smart, and he’s pretty good with people too. (There’s more, but if I start listing Gimli’s good points, this post will end up about twice the length it is already).

“Lofty ambitions,” Frerin said, and leaned against the parapet. “See that swing? He’s a natural axeman, and already a talented warrior. Dwalin trained him along with our nephews. It was rather entertaining to watch them - they are both equally as pigheaded as each other.”

“He’s a Dwarf, of course he’s pigheaded,” said Thorin.

I laughed so hard at this bit.


Based On : “Imagine Dwalin walking you home shirtless and you find it hard to get anything done because you keep staring at his muscular chest”

Words: 1,411
Characters: Dwalin x Reader 
Notes: fluff + some steam 

You looked down at your feet as you walked, nodding in sync with your steps as your shoes hit the pavements with loud clicks, echoing throughout the streets.

The sidewalk glistened with the rain that had fallen over the town of Dale earlier, and the moon that hung in the sky above made it notably beautiful. You welcomed the distraction eagerly, as to keep your prying eyes off of the dwarf that walked next to you. The earlier day had been quite busy- with Thorin Oakenshield’s Coronation coming up and you as head-seamstress, you had been rushing about gathering materials for all the stunning gowns and exquisite suits.

However, you had lost your way and had ventured deep into the south area of the town- far away form where you usually venture. Luckily for you, Dwalin had noticed you wandering about after hours and had offered to lead you home.

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Back Off My Dwarf - Fili x Reader

FOR @deepestfirefun {You are / were an assassin of a royal family, top of your game, nominated by the king himself in a year TA 1432. But then you were cursed with immortality as a punishment for a crime you committed TA 1435, while being in service of Eldacar, king of Gondor. Now you are in Erebor, after botfa in year TA 2942 as a personal bodyguard of Fili, who has become very fond of you. He likes to call you to his chambers at night to hear stories about your life before and after the curse. It’s not every day you meet someone who is 1500+ years old. But Fili has a very persistent admirer who wishes that he would consider courting her and Fili is getting tired of her constant attention “whoring” and you are getting jealous. Little do you two know that you are in love with each other. Lots of fluff.}


Word Count: 2,799

Warning: Nope, just the usual possibly poorly written Fili!

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Fili's Selflessness

Fili’s selflessness is one of his most defining traits. Selfless characters are seldom seen in media and whenever they do I feel a strong liking to them. Fili is no exception to this. From the start of the hobbit trilogy this golden-haired (and golden-hearted) Dwarf has show both small and large acts of selflessness and kindness all the way through to his death at the hands of Azog. In the start of this three-movie journey Fili and his brother are seen as young and joyful, caring more for mischief and mayhem then the seriousness of the quest. But little glances at Fili show that this cheerfulness isn’t all that is to him.

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Imagine explaining the word “adorkable” to the dwarves while using Bilbo as an example, but him suddenly standing behind you and him finding out your feelings for him this way

Words: 1860
Based on this imagine from the lovely imaginexhobbit

“Imagine explaining the word ‘adorkable’ to the dwarves while using Bilbo as an example, but him suddenly standing behind you and him finding out your feelings for him this way”

You would never be able to provide an explanation, to yourself or anyone else, as to exactly how you had ended up in Middle-Earth. One minute you had been lying in your soft bed in your apartment—the next, you’d opened your eyes and found yourself in the middle of a forest, wearing nothing but your pajamas. Thank goodness that hadn’t been a night you’d chosen to sleep in your underwear.

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starwarse  asked:

hey what are your favorite bagginshield fics?

I’m glad you’re asking bc i love so many bagginshield fics, so i’m gonna turn this into a fics rec if you don’t mind


  • Over There and Back Again by TrueRed (sequel from A Dwarf’s Pride) - Months after the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo cannot say that his life in Erebor is unpleasant… but he admits it would be much better if a certain King Under the Mountain wasn’t so elusive. Will it take a trip to the Shire and another unexpected adventure to bring them closer?
  • The Courting Habits of the Line of Durin by diemarysues - Hobbits didn’t have such things as courting rituals – they were uncomplicated folk. They announced their affections with flowers or a cooked meal, a shared pipe or simply a kiss – and then there were meetings with both families and a date set for the wedding.
    Dwarves, as he kept discovering, were a completely different kettle of fish.
  • The Inevitable Love Story between Two Oblivious Idiots by Bgtea - In which everyone sees the budding romance between Thorin and Bilbo, except, of course, for Thorin and Bilbo themselves.
    Also, Dis brings the fear of God in other Dwarves and likes to meddle in her big brother’s romantic life, and if she has to do this through scathingly written letters, then so be it.
  • Prayers to Broken Stone by Avelera - “Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.” – The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by C.S. Lewis
    Twisted by the effects of dragon sickness, Thorin banishes not only Bilbo but the entire company from Erebor. Days pass with no word from their missing leader and, fearing the effects the gold may have on the other dwarves, Bilbo decides to enter the mountain alone in search of Thorin.
    What he finds may not be Thorin for much longer.
    Or: In which dragon sickness is very, very literal, and Bilbo must save Thorin from himself.
  • we kiss the dusk goodnight by lacking - Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Thorin wins his throne but struggles with settling into his role as King Under the Mountain. Bilbo is torn between staying in Erebor or returning home, but wants to help while he can.
  • Ere the Break of Day by Wizards_Pupil - Thorin was not in a good mood.
    Not that Thorin was often in a good mood. He’d rarely had a chance for a good mood in his life. Not since Erebor. He spent most of his time trying to provide for the people he brought to Ered Luin. In the last year he’d hardly even smiled, what with the utterly ridiculous time he and his Company had had in trying to reclaim their mountain. He’d expected the dragon, and probably a little of trouble with the elves. The constant orc attacks, the goblins, the trolls, and the spiders, had been a bit much, but the bloody battle had just been the end of it all.
    But no, even that wasn’t enough. Life still had more in store for Thorin Oakenshield and his loyal Company. It intended to see just how strong he could be where a little hobbit was concerned. Not to mention the fact that the ‘greatest calamity of our time’ actually had nothing to do with a dragon.
    And Thorin couldn’t even blame the elves for all their troubles.
  • Theft by Erinye - Thorin Oakenshield agrees to an alliance of dwarves, men and elves against the enemy approaching Erebor. But he makes some demands and one of them is for Bilbo Baggins to be tried for the theft of the Arkenstone, accordingly to the dwarvish law. Bilbo is taken into Erebor as prisoner and Thorin is going to learn that many things can still be stolen.

During the quest (just a part of the story or entirely):

  • King, Come at Red Morning by Tawabids - Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life.
    Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he’s never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep.
    And as if that wasn’t complicated enough he’s trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.
  • A Dwarf’s Pride by TrueRed - “Long story short, master burglar,” Dwalin growled out, “it’s almost as if they raped Thorin in front of us.”
  • Beneath the Mountains Music Woke by EmilianaDarling - After being rescued by Bilbo, Thorin begins to realize that his feelings for the halfling are more than simple gratitude. But past ills cannot be so easily undone, and the growing need inside him proves difficult to understand or control. And although he might be king in name, a man without land or wealth has little to offer anyone.
  • Discovering Mr Baggins by Eareniel - A.K.A. The Quest for Erebor:
    The story of a Hobbit, told through the eyes of the dwarves.
  • Thorin Oakenshield’s Majestic Diary by Fruitsie - Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Totally Majestic Badass of Middle Earth, does not have a raging hard-on for Bilbo Baggins. No, seriously. Just read his diary.
  • Altered by diemarysues - About the time Thorin started picking flowers for Bilbo, the rest of the Dwarves had come to agreement about two things: One, their leader was a certified loony. Two, they were going to have to do something about it.
  • He’s so sexy when he’s angry by HobbitFeels - Kink Meme Fill
    Original Prompt: “There’s no way around it. Thorin’s just a dick to Bilbo for about 90% of the movie and a good portion of the book. Well, at one point, Bilbo just gets fed up with it and tells Thorin to fuck off. Thorin hadn’t been attracted to the hobbit beforehand, but after he sees this different side of Bilbo, he gets sort of turned on.”

Not the usual quest:

  • Clarity of Vision by mithen - In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent—from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond—with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.
  • Burned To A Cinder by ferretbaby - A Cinderella-esque AU. Bilbo, a lonely hobbit of the Shire in the valley outside Erebor, gets a job as a cook in the dwarf kingdom to pass the time and keep himself occupied after his mother’s death. One day he meets a regal dwarf, who he thinks is a thief and trespasser, and throws an apple at his head, never knowing he’s just assaulted the dwarven Prince. Thus begins the antagonistic and somewhat odd courtship of a hobbit and the next King of Erebor.
  • Song as Old as Rhyme by Wizards_Pupil - Occasionally fairy tales get the story wrong-even Tales as old as time.
    Bilbo Baggins joined the court of the dwarves to save the life of someone he loves. Now he finds himself in the middle of a plot to overthrow the throne, dwarves who seem intent on playing matchmakers, and meddlesome wizards. And nobody said anything about dragons.
    A completely different take on Beauty and the Beast with dwarves, Hobbits, wizards, and of course, a dragon or two.

Modern AU:

  • How the West Was Won and Where It Got Us by stickman - Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn’t quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands.
    Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up.

    Except one morning, someone does.
  • Bed, Breakfast and Blood by jeza_red - Bilbo Baggins set out to open his own B&B in the marvelous place up North. He bought a gorgeous Georgian mansion with a beautiful view and a lot of potential.
    What he didn’t expect to get in the deal were surprisingly pleasant neighbors.
    Really, they are lovely, kind, generous people.
    All sans the vampire living in his basement. Well, maybe. Because as of late he’s quite a decent fellow.
  • Suitcases and Tealeaves by Berunien - Bilbo Baggins was nobody special. He paid his bills on time, brushed his teeth twice a day, and ran a small Teahouse down the lane called Bella’s Brewhouse, fondly named in honour of his passed mother. Bilbo was 35, had a Degree in English Literature, and lived alone. Nothing exciting or extraordinary happened to him. That was, until his oldest friend Gandalf Greyhame arrived on his doorstep late at night, after a favor.
  • Madness (and his sequel Mistletoe) by Bernie_N - Bilbo, babysitter to the little monsters Fili and Kili, finds his quiet life in utter shambles when the madness of the Durin family begins to attract itself to him.
  • i’m killing time, and time’s killing you by KaavyaWriting - Bilbo was haunting Thorin… politely. Most of the time. If he happened to see things he shouldn’t, that wasn’t really his fault, was it? It wasn’t like he could just tell Thorin he’s there—haunting didn’t work that way. But he tried to be helpful; he was more of a considerate, if inconspicuous flatmate than anything else. He made coffee in the mornings, didn’t he? And put up those stupid, useless free floating shelves Thorin liked better than Bilbo’s antique bookcases. Once he even finished Thorin’s taxes, because God was the man useless at it.
    But that was a tangent. The thing of the matter was, Bilbo was haunting Thorin, politely for the most part. Even though, technically speaking, Bilbo was not dead.
  • Now That The Chips Are Down by SailorFish - Bilbo Baggins, Personal Assistant to one of the richest men in the country, has been asked to care for his large estate, and all who live on it, while the man’s away on business. Examining the enormous, intimidating building, he decides he’s not particularly looking forward to it.
    Meanwhile, Thorin Oakenshield, unfortunate slave to one of the richest men in the country, has been ordered to treat the Acting Lord of the Manor with every courtesy he’d offer to his real master, for a whole year. Kneeling, anxious, in the entryway, he’s definitely not looking forward to it.
    This is a story about how feelings can change.
  • One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash - “Thank you for listening,” Thorin said, getting to his feet. “I hope to be able to return the favour, one day.”
    The man on the bed didn’t respond, but since he’d been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn’t entirely surprising.
  • Here, There Be Dragons by bendingsignpost - The day before, Thorin was everything Bilbo had wanted in a boyfriend. The day after, he’s anything but. Discovering your boyfriend torturing a man in the basement tends to have that effect. Bagginshield Mafia AU.
  • Alone is a word not meant for you by authoressjean - The holidays are fast approaching, and Thorin’s been dreading them, now that it’s just him and his nephews. Harder still given that Fili still barely speaks and hasn’t really since Dis died.
    So when Kili drags them into the bookstore to look for children’s literature author Mr. Baggins’ new book, and they find the author himself reading his latest, Thorin isn’t expecting anything beyond maybe making his nephews a little happier.

    He certainly isn’t expecting to find something for himself but he may have done just that.
'Imagine your first words during the entire journey being "Well, shit" after Smaug flees Erebor, and that being the moment everyone realizes you are a woman'


You had always been a dwarf of few words; growing up many of your neighbours had believed you hadn’t started talking until you were twenty, and it sometimes drove your mother crazy.

“You’d think I was talking with the wall!” She would exclaim when she got particularly frustrated.

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Imagine Thorin knowing that you love Fili....

A/N: This is my first Drabble attempt, based on this Imagine by imaginexhobbit. I hope you enjoy!!!!

The metal plated armor clung tightly to your tall frame. The leather straps binding around you firmly, preventing any of it from coming loose or slipping during battle. That would not be a good thing, especially with the creatures you were up against.

Orcs and wargs were not something you were unfamiliar with, given you had spent the better part of a year journeying with the company. And in that time you encountered your fair share of them along the way. But this was different, one slip up and you would never recover. There was no one at your back fighting off a few of the rabid creatures. It was you against thousands upon thousands of orcs, all by yourself.

That thought alone scared you, but you were raised as a ranger. Fear was something you hid, buried deep inside yourself so no one would ever see. It was a weakness, as your father told you, and rangers were not weak. But at this very moment, weak was all that you were feeling.

The fate of the company, of the hobbit… of the Durins were all in the hands of the Valar. Something you weren’t entirely pleased about. They had not been particularly good to you in your childhood, taking most of your loved ones away in battles. Your father, who you had been closest to, had been the hardest loss.

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Kindred Spirits: Imagine Crying Over the Story of Erebor & Thorin Telling His Nephews to Comfort You

When the group of thirteen Dwarves, one Halfling and a wizard trotted on their ponies past your stable, you felt an instant connection with them all. You couldn’t explain it.

You got the sense immediately that they were on a very important mission, especially the regal-looking, pelt-adorned one, and every curious bone in your body wanted to know more about all of them.

There was a time when you, too, went on important missions, of sorts, with your beloved. Through the forests and into strange towns you went, bounty hunters, paid handsomely to capture escaped criminals.

It was an exciting life - until the day you let your guard down. The day one particularly strong felon overtook you, grabbed your dagger and plunged it into your lover’s heart — it was an instant death — before just missing your throat with the blade, and escaping.

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