ceremonial ax

au where the whole company is under the misguided impression that prince kili needs help courting ambassador tauriel (the boy might be a prince of the line of durin, but he’s hardly a catch–too skinny, doesn’t even have a full beard, can barely smith chainmail) so they all pitch in and help in their own fumbling ways

some work (tauriel does appreciate the ceremonial axe that bifur smiths for them, with the traditional runes for binding on the handle) but most of them really really don’t (one in particular resulted in tauriel finding three naked dwarves in her bed and none of them the naked dwarf she likes finding there) and kili has to apologize a lot with kisses and star gazing

(…does thorin give her The Talk I bet thorin gives her the If You Even Think About Hurting My Nephew Remember I Defeated A Dragon Once talk I bet he screws it up so badly she wanders out of the throne room totally confused and he just sits back in his throne and thinks by aule I am such a good uncle)

(legolas is vaguely horrified by the proceedings)

(legolas is mostly horrified by how charmed tauriel is by the proceedings and tells her so often)

(…legolas might be jealous that tauriel is collecting this ragtag family, of people who might not be elves but love her and support her nonetheless, legolas is so jealous he can’t breathe and doesn’t stop being jealous until he joins the fellowship)

(tauriel and dis get on famously, by the way)

(do tauriel and kili build something like a hobbit hole halfway between mirkwood and erebor I bet they do I bet they have a lover’s nest half in the ground and half out of it and on clear nights they sleep outside under the stars)

A Dress For The Knight

To continue my b-day party, I thought I would self-indulgently post an original short story of mine! This one was a colab betweeen myself and @asparklethatisblue. The art is Val’s, the writing is mine, and we came up with the concept together. This is the story we got into the Buff Babes Zine, now finally available for all to read for free!

*posts story and ambles off to make cake*

Please Enjoy!



Sindri veered away from the door to the little dressmaker’s shop and walked past it for the second time, palms sweating, before she took herself firmly by the scruff of the neck and marched herself right back to it. Alfregg said this was the place to go, so go to it Sindri would. She would not flee from this battle like an unseasoned stripling, even if the beautiful dresses on display in the window were certainly not intended for a dwarf of Sindri’s build. She took a deep gulping breath to brace herself and pushed through the door into the shop.

It was warm inside, cozy and homey in comparison to the larger tailor shops Sindri had attempted in the past. Bolts of fabric in all shades and materials lined the walls as both decoration and storage, joined by swatches of fine needlework. The air smelled of spiced tea, comforting and familiar, and Sindri had taken several bemused steps deeper into the shop before she caught sight of the proprietress.

The dressmaker was a dainty little thing, perched on the edge of a stool as lightly as thistledown to be wafted away with a breath of air. She hardly even had a beard, just fuzzy sideburns to either side of her pointy chin matching the weightless poof of pale hair on top of her head. She obviously had faery blood, and was the polar opposite of everything Sindri was.

Sindri very nearly turned tail and ran.

Keep reading

‘I am very pleased with the atmospheric conditions we are experiencing today. The lack of clouds have allowed the sun to show through, thus making electrical lighting unnecessary. Uh-NESS-a-sarry. Uh-NESS-ussery. Also, the lack of precipitation has kept my artificial skin from becoming uncomfortably damp, which -’

'Ax?’ I interrupted.

'Yes, Marco?’

'Stop that. Please.’

'Come on, Marco,’ Tobias said. 'He’s just practicing his small talk. We spent hours on it last night.’

'Thank you again, Marco,’ Ax said, 'for inviting me to this primitive yet interesting ceremony.’

'My pleasure, Ax-man. Do not go near the buffet table.’

'How do you define “near”?’

'Ax, I’m telling you: No food.’
—  Book #35: The Proposal, pg. 144 (by K.A. Applegate)