amazing-tricks

JULY 6, 2015

IT’S FUCKING MONDAY. DID YOU KNOW A LION’S ROAR CAN BE HEARD UP TO FIVE MILES AWAY?

WORDS OF WISDOM OF THE FUCKING DAY:

FOLLOW YOUR BRAIN. YOUR HEART IS STUPID AS SHIT.

PERSON OF THE FUCKING DAY:

THE ITALIAN NATIVE AMERICAN ACTOR. more>>

EDUCATE YOUR IGNORANT ASS:

AMAZING TRICKS NO ONE FUCKING TOLD YOU. more>>

FUCKING MIND-BLOWING BOOK OF THE DAY:

FEEL WHOLE AND HAPPY AND SHIT. more>>

USEFUL SHIT OF THE GODDAMN DAY:

SECURE YOUR DAMN SHIT. more>>

APP OF THE FUCKING DAY:

BOOKMARK SHIT SO YOU CAN FIND IT LATER. more>>

AWESOME-AS-SHIT VIDEO OF THE DAY:

WHY WE HAVEN’T CURED CANCER. more>>

SWEET-ASS PICTURE OF THE DAY:

SUNSET IN FUCKING SLOVAKIA. more>>

HAVE YOU ACCEPTED CARLI LLOYD AS YOUR LORD AND SAVIOR!!??

THAT FUCKING AMAZING HAT TRICK!! I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!!

Thief

Imagine performing silly, amateur magic, such as the coin behind the ear trick, and amazing the Company but making Gandalf laugh

Word count: 1782

Characters: reader (female) POV, the Company

Warnings: none, I think, though feel free to correct me.


“What is so fragile that to say its name would break it?” Bilbo puffed on his pipe, adding to the pipe-haze that lingered in the air.

You grinned. “Easy. Silence.”

“You’ve heard that one already.”

You shrugged, watching the fire flicker and dance as you tried to recall another riddle. This constant back-and-forth of riddles was your way of passing the time, especially after learning how Bilbo escaped from Gollum in Goblin-Town. The dwarves had long since ceased to try and join in, rather speculating among themselves about the possible answers.

“What can you have, yet not share? And what can you share, and therefore, not have?”

The others blinked in confusion. Oin held his ear trumpet closer, and Bombur stopped chewing. They glanced at Bilbo to gauge his reaction to this new poser.

Bilbo took a long draught from his pipe, his foot tapping against the leaf-littered ground. The side of his cheek turned down. “Well…considering this lot,” he motioned at the gathered dwarves with the end of the pipe, “food.”

The clearing rang with your sudden laughter while the dwarves tried to comprehend. Indeed, sharing food with the dwarves usually resulted in your lack of it, as you had learnt the hard way.

“Quite a reasonable answer, but no.”

“Share…share…not have…” he mumbled. “I suppose you can…share secrets?”

You nodded in defeat.

Bilbo smiled. “Hm… The more you see of it, the less you see in it.”

“The dark,” you replied, with barely a beat in between. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“And so have I,” Bofur chimed in. “If anything, it seems as if the two of you are running out of riddles. Is there anything else to do so we can pass the time?”

Dwalin looked up from the dagger he was sharpening. “We could spar.”

“I’d rather not do that after I just ate,” Bilbo said.

“Maybe another challenger.”

With a cringe, you remembered all too well what happened last time. “I vote no.”

Dwalin huffed. Fili was digging his dagger blades into the ground, churning the soil. The others were doing mindless, trivial things, as they hungered for some sort of entertainment. Something to lift their spirits. Especially Thorin, who had a mighty gash from his run-in with Azog, and who sat in a cloud of brooding.

A smile slowly spread on your face. “Maybe we could…make a bet or two?” You flipped a coin into the air, attracting everyone’s attention from the glint of its gold face.

“On what?” Kili asked eagerly.

“Hold on.” Gloin patted his pocket. “Where’d you get that, lass?”

“I found it lying around.” You tossed it at him. “Mind you, I keep finding them everywhere. Like for instance,” you leant towards Ori, pretending to grasp something from behind his ear. When you pulled your hand back, another piece of gold glittered in your palm. Ori pawed his ears, eyes wide, while the camp broke out in gasps.

“You ought to be keeping an eye on the money, Gloin,” you chided, before throwing the coin over at him as well. “Don’t just leave them here and there.” In quick succession, you pulled out several coins as if from thin air and flicked them at each of the dwarves.

“How is she doing that?” Nori asked, the master of light hands.

Kili grabbed your arms and checked your sleeves, tapping your pockets for a jangle of gold.

“Nothing,” he said, completely bewildered.

“You missed these, though,” you said, showering a handful over his head, and making a show of dusting your hands.

“No, I’m serious, how is she doing that?” Nori asked again, amidst the raucous laughter of the others.

“My, you seem to be crying with laughter,” you commented, upon spying Gandalf shaking with merriment. You stooped over where he sat, pretending to comfort him. “But don’t worry, I have a hanky.” With two claps, a handkerchief seemed to materialise onto your palms. You inspected it. “Oh dear, Bilbo, I believe this to be yours.” You handed it to him, turning away from his slack jaw. “But not to worry, Gandalf, I think I have another one here somewhere.”

With a flourish, you pulled out a handkerchief from your left hand, one that was a mile-long, and a combination of all the Company’s hankies tied together by the corners.

“There, a big hanky for the tall wizard,” you said, dumping the pile of cloth on his lap. He chuckled, and you gave him a sly wink.

On you went, your antics increasing in ridiculousness, and their laughter and bafflement multiplied by tenfold. You grabbed Bofur’s hat and pulled Bombur’s bread stash from it. You asked whether Oin’s hearing was worsening, then claimed to find a reason for it by shaking Fili’s moustache beads out of his hearing trumpet. Out of Bifur’s coat, you pulled a bouquet of flowers, to which he crowed in khuzdul and chortled. You added your simple ‘thumb-separation’ trick, which made even Dwalin do a double-take. After making three of Kili’s arrows disappear, you told Dori, Nori and Balin get off their rumps and- behold! There they were.

The air was so thick with exclamations of amusement and surprise that an orc pack could have crept up in the shadows to lay waste to the camp. Only one person did not join in the improvised festivities.

Though Thorin’s brooding glower had softened somewhat, all you ever wrangled from him was a lip twitch. You were running through your mental repertoire of ‘magic’ tricks, wondering if you had something special in store for the King Under the Mountain. Revealing the Arkenstone would be spectacular indeed, but alas, you were limited by your abilities. Or lack of it. They were mere party tricks from Earth.

You asked to borrow a piece of parchment from Ori, and claimed that, with magic, you would always be able to predict the truth of their statement: true or false. It was one you had made up, simply by writing the ambigram of ‘true’ and ‘false’ on the slip of paper, and flipping it when appropriate. You just hoped they would state things you knew the answer to.

“Go on, say something,” you said.

“I’m a hobbit.” Bilbo said. An obvious test question.

You rubbed the piece of parchment in your hands and muttered ominously. With exaggerated motions, you carefully unfolded the paper, and held it to their craning faces.

“It says…”

“True.” Kili looked simply delighted.

“Wait,” Dwalin cautioned. He tilted his head as he inspected the paper with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll do it again, if you like. Just say another statement.” You folded the paper again and sandwiched it in between your palms.

“My name is Balin,” he said.

False.

“No!” Kili gasped. “That must be a different paper.”

“It is one and the same.”

This time, when you refolded it, you made a point of showing your empty sleeves and palms.

“Fili is my brother.”

True.

“Kili is a woman.”

“Hey!”

False.

“Haha! That thing is lying.”

Kili swatted Fili on the shoulder. “Our Uncle is the King under the Mountain.”

Thorin glanced up at you, his attention now fully invested on the scene before him.

True.

“Gandalf taught you magic.”

The wizard’s eyes twinkled.

False.

“Then how?” Nori stressed, like he was teetering on the edge of discovering a dreadful conspiracy.

“It’s obvious.”

Thorin had finally stood up. He took the parchment from your hands and stared at the word, slightly frowning, while an anticipative hush fell over the camp. His eyes flickered up to yours, which were glittering with laughter, and his hands rotated the paper.

“There,” he said, holding it up to the silent dwarves. “True.” He turned the paper again. “False.”

He let the parchment flutter onto your lap, which Kili seized, turning it this way and that. The others peered over his shoulder.

“How about the coins, then, Y/N?”

“It’s obvious. She’s a thief,” Thorin said. “The only other explanation we need is how Gloin has been losing so much coin without noticing.”

He began to return to his sleeping place, while Gloin looked down at his coin pouch.

You stood up, having exhausted all of your tricks anyway. Except one.

“So I guess…you don’t want me to explain this?” You said to his back, holding up your hand for all to see.

His eyes alighted upon the intricate iron key between your fingers, and his hands flew around his neck, feeling nothing but his chest. By chance, really, how you came upon it. After the Azog’s Warg almost reduced him to dwarf-chowder, you noticed the key fall off his person when he was picked up by the giant eagle. You’d had it ever since.

Thorin’s jaw tensed as he snatched the key from you, securing it around his neck and retiring to his bedroll, back to the rest of you. From his still form, he exuded heavy, muted anger. The dwarves said their hurried goodnights and the camp returned to dim stillness. Gandalf exchanged a look with you.

You shrugged off the shame stirring in the pit of your belly and went to bed, trying hard to fool yourself into believing that you did not care for his anger. Or that you had caused it. Really, you fumed quietly, you had been trying to cheer him up. Don’t you dare feel shame for it…

Even so, you resolved to apologise in the morning, if his anger had not yet ebbed away by then.

When the fire embers were reduced to tired flickers, Thorin took over Balin’s night-watch.

“You cannot deny that it was amusing,” Balin said, before shuffling into his bedroll.

Thorin’s gaze shifted over to where you lay, peaceful in dreams, and allowed himself a small smile. “She seems to have hands more nimble than our burglar’s.”

Balin chuckled. “Aye. There is no need to worry, Thorin. She has good intentions with whatever she steals.” He raised an eyebrow as if sharing a secret, before tapping Thorin on the chest. Not where the key was, but somewhere more to the left, where there was the strong, steady thrum of life. His heartbeat.

You stirred in your sleep, releasing a quiet, content sigh. It relaxed the knot coiled in Thorin’s stomach as he watched you, the thief who had taken more than she realised from the King under the Mountain.

He pulled the true/false paper from his sleeve – he had wrested it earlier from Kili’s sleeping grip – and opened it, wanting to deny his realisation, his secret. But he also wanted to know…

“She loves me back,” he whispered, feeling the comfort of the words, the lightness inside him. He glanced down at the paper.

True.