dwalin son of fundin


Dwalin could feel his cheeks getting hotter, as he grunted, lifting himself of the floor. He was mortified at the incident that had just happened to him. For Mahal’s sake! Dwalin cursed in his mind. He was a dwarf warrior, the best one in Erebor and here he was slipping and falling on his arse, like a fool…

He groaned as he knew it’d be a while till you seized from your laughter. He huffed once more as he looked at you, you had been clutching your stomach with your hands, barely able to breathe from laughing. Tears rolled down from your watering eyes to your blushed cheeks. 

After stripping himself from his weapons, Dwalin made his way to the dining room and waited impatiently for you to join him for dinner. Finally, after a good few minutes, you sighed and filled his cup with mead. With a large grin on your face, you spoke, “You know, I had a pretty rough day today at work but thank you for lightening my mood for possibly the many years to come, my love.”

Dwalin eyed you in some sort of warning gaze, as he was the least bit amused about what had occurred to him just a few moments earlier. Though, if it brought a smile or made you happy, he was willing to let it slide.

“I’m glad I can be of service to you, amralime.

You hummed approvingly and made your way to the kitchen to grab a loaf of bread. As you did so, you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles again as you reminisced the previous incident. You were definitely going to let Dís know about this when she would visit tomorrow.


They are the cutest of patoots, oh and Nori likes his Dwalins shirtless ^_^  I had to dig up a piece I did a year ago for Dwalin’s hand tattoo reference (one of my all time favorite hobbit drawings I’ve done btw). It creeped me out cuz I could have sworn that piece was 3 years old, but nope, only a year and a half.  Time sure does fly.

I was super grossed out by all of the other old drawing i saw when looking for it.  I saw the flower series that I never finished :P Might have to try that series again sometime.


As soon as you had finished your errand at the marketplace, you exhaustedly hurried back home as you knew perfectly well Dwalin was irritated that he’d been placed in an unwanted position of a nanny. But as you had just settled in Erebor, you couldn’t ask anyone for help as you knew no one, in the exception of the dwarf warrior, Dwalin.

As you burst through the door, quickly removing your shoes, in the living room the sight before you took you by an astonishing surprise and rendered tears to your eyes - which you were quick to dismiss. There was Dwalin reaching for another cookie from the glass jar while your child stood atop a chair as (s)he was colouring Dwalin’s tattoos upon his head.

You were surprised because your child had never grown to become so comfortable around strangers so easily and so fast. And of course, you’d never think Dwalin was the type of dwarf to concern himself of babysitting, let alone do it so well.

At the sight of your entrance, Dwalin’s eyes widen slightly while your child jumps from the chair, running towards you, beaming adorably. You wrapped the little bundle of pure joy into you but not before placing a loving kiss upon her (his) forehead and supple cheeks. 

As you made your way closer to where Dwalin was sitting, you offer him your signature, beautiful smile. “I didn’t know you got along so well with children, Master Dwarf.” You teased and you could have sworn Dwalin’s cheeks instantly turned a shade of pink at your words.

Though, he was quick to recover, “Aye. You are right but the little one kept insisting upon it.” Dwalin answered as he pointed to his head, sighing. “It shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise, to be honest with you.”

Your eyebrows raise at his remark. “Why’d you say that?”

Dwalin chuckles and shakes his head lightly. “The small babe takes after the mother, who is just as stubborn and headstrong.” 

You scoff, placing your hands on your hips, fixing the dwarf with a playful glare. “Speaks the dwarf of Erebor.”

The both of you laugh and Dwalin proceeds to place his big, calloused hand upon your shoulder. “I must take my leave now but if you are in need of me again, I’ll always be here to help, lass. ‘Sides, you know I’d anything for you.”

That time as he had said those words, it had been your turn to blush uncontrollably.

This imagine was kind of inspired by my mother when she took care of me and my dad was never around to help. She basically was a single parent. 

Dwarf Year in Review. It’s been a dwarf filled year, and I’ve learned so much.  Please enjoy some of my favorite dwarf related art from each month this year.

(I rarely draw Bofur, so I was surprised to see he made the list 3 times ^_^)

Fallen Stars (Thorin x OC)

A/N: And the first chapter is already up!! I hope that you will enjoy reading this story! 

Fandom: The Hobbit 

Ship: Thorin x OC 


Chapter 1: Bag End

Originally posted by captainoftheblackwind

It was a beautiful day in the Shire, the sun was shining, the birds singing and the hobbits attending to their houses and fields peacefully. Hobbits were small merry creatures that had no idea of the kind of evil that lived outside their borders. They loved the comfort of home and most of all, they loved food. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, supper, every occasion to eat and gather the family around the table was taken. Hobbits also loved to savor a pint after a hard day of labor. That is why hobbits loved the atmosphere of The Green Dragon Inn (the only Inn in Hobbiton), the place was always filled with happiness and warmth. Moreover, the quality of the ale and food was renowned throughout the entire Shire, making Hobbits proud of their food heritage. Bilbo Baggins was one of them.

Bilbo was proud of being a hobbit, and precisely, Bilbo was proud to be a Baggins of Bag End. Baggins were well respected among hobbits, they were always on time and nothing unexpected ever happened to them. That is why Bilbo couldn’t help but frown as a hooded figure approached him while he was sitting on the bench before his house. Bilbo looked up from his pipe in surprise.

“Good morning.” Bilbo tentatively said, clearly uncomfortable to be brought out of his reveries by something snapping on his nose.

“What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?” The hooded figure answered with a huff. Bilbo looked perplexed as he tried to find a good answer.

“All of them at once, I suppose.” Bilbo finally answered, looking completely lost. Gandalf looked suddenly slightly disappointed of this answer and Bilbo’s confusion increased.

“Can I help you?” The young hobbit asked, only wanting to go back to his reveries and his pipe. Gandalf looked at Bilbo, observing his reaction to his next answer.

“That remains to be seen. I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

“An adventure? Now, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner, hm, mm” Bilbo answered in a rush.

The hobbit got up from his bench and advanced toward the short fence before his house to check his mailbox. He grabbed some mail and started to sort through it, clucking to himself. It was obvious that he looked quite uncomfortable because Gandalf was still standing at the same spot before his bench, observing him. Puffing his pipe in vexation, Bilbo began to head back toward his house and sent a quick “Good morning” Gandalf’s way in hope to end the odd conversation. However, Gandalf’s voice stopped him once again.

“To think that I should have lived to be good­morninged by Belladonna Took’s son, as if were selling buttons at the door.”

“Beg your pardon?” Bilbo said, almost shocked as he turned around.

“You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” The wizard’s voice was laced with disappointment. After all he had placed his only hope into this hobbit.  

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Bilbo asked, now really curious to know what this meeting was about.

“Well, you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf! And Gandalf means … me.” The wizard answered, hoping that Bilbo would at least remember who he was.

“Gandalf… not Gandalf, the wandering Wizard, who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve.” Bilbo laughed more at ease suddenly and Gandalf nodded his head. “Well. Hmm, I had no idea you were still in business.” Bilbo finished.

“And where else should I be?” Gandalf asked slightly offended.

“Ha, ha! Hm, hmm…” Bilbo tried to find an answer as he puffed confusedly on his pipe.

“Well, I’m pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it’s only my fireworks.” Gandalf suddenly said, cutting though the tensed silence that had settled between the two old friends. “Well that’s decided. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.” The wizard nodded and gathered his cloak, ready to leave with a smirk on his lips.

“Inform the who? What? No. No. No! Wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today, not­mm. I suggest you try over the Hill or across the Water. Good morning.” Bilbo said in frustration as he retreated into Bag End, gesturing at Gandalf with his pipe. Gandalf watched in amusement as the hobbit closed his door.

Once inside, Bilbo leant against his door confused and a little relieved to be in the safety of his house. Suddenly, the hobbit heard a curious noise at his door. He put his ear close to the door and noticed that the noise was coming from Gandalf drawing a glowing symbol on Bilbo’s door with his staff. Alarmed, Bilbo looked out his side window but the hobbit jumped back in fright as Gandalf’s eyes appeared at the window. Bilbo hid behind a wall and looked out another window of his living-room to see Gandalf hurrying away from the luxurious hobbit hall, singing an unknow tune to himself.

It was nighttime when Elen arrived in the Shire. After her meeting with Gandalf in the Lothlorien she decided to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield to help them reclaim their homeland. However, they did not know about it yet. The Shire was a beautiful place, the landscape was breathtaking in Elen’s eyes. Even if she was living in the beautiful kingdom of Lothlorien, the young woman could still appreciate other lands beauty. Gandalf had told her to seek for a marked door above the hills, a hobbit hole with a green round door and slightly isolated to other houses or to the center of the hobbit village. Elen smiled as she reached the highest part of the village and saw the mark Gandalf had made on the bottom of the round door. The half-elf looked up one last time, glancing at the stars before climbing the small set of stairs that lead to the entrance of the hobbit hole. The woman was about to ring the bell when her hand stopped at mid-distance, hearing the commotion that came from inside the house.

Inside the house Gandalf was counting the dwarves, while the merry company tried to transport all of Bilbo’s food into the dining-room.

“Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori…Ori.” Gandalf counted as Bilbo wrestled a bowl of tomatoes away from Ori. Bifur approached Gandalf and talked to him in Khuzdul, the wizard telling him that he was quite right. “We appear to be one dwarf short.” Gandalf noted, looking around.

“He is late, is all. He travelled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come.” Dwalin said, having heard Gandalf’s comment on their leader being late. Dwalin was Thorin’s right hand man and best friend, if someone knew where the leader was, it was him. Gandalf was about to answer when the bell rang once again. Bilbo looked up at Gandalf and whined, already fed up with the dwarves.

“It cannot be Thorin…” Dwalin said, a frown evident on his features. “Are we expecting someone else?” Dwalin’s gruff voice asked Gandalf.

“Yes, it must be the last member of this company that finally found her way!” Gandalf said, before asking Bilbo to go open the door.

“Her?” Bofur noted as he carried a chair into Bilbo’s dining-room, the other dwarves looking slightly confused at the wizard’s choice of words. Dwalin and Balin followed Gandalf and Bilbo at the door, the two brothers’ curiosity winning over their hunger.

Bilbo looked at Gandalf before opening the door to revealed a small hooded figure. However, the hobbit directly knew that the figure wasn’t a dwarf. The silhouette was too thin and too elegant to be a dwarf.

“Good evening. You must be mister Baggins.” A gentle voice said as the figure removed her hood to reveal the beautiful pale face of Elen. Bilbo’s cheeks blushed slightly but he nodded his head and stepped aside to let her step into the house. The half-elf thanked the hobbit and stepped into the hallway, nodding at Gandalf as Bilbo closed his door.

“My dear Elen!” Gandafl greeted the woman with a kind smile.

“Gandalf, sorry for being late.” Elen said, returning Gandalf smile then turned back toward Bilbo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you mister Baggins. I’m Elentari of the Lothlorien.” The woman said before extending her hand for the hobbit to shake. It was not common for elves to shake hands but Elen was also of the race of men after all.

Bilbo took her hand and shook it, he jumped in surprise when their hands touched as her skin was as cold as ice. Elen noticed and whispered a quick apology. Bilbo smiled and took her cloak of her hands to hang it close to the door.

“An elf maiden?!” A rough accented voice suddenly shouted into the hallway. Gandalf looked around to see Dwalin with his hands on the handle of his sword, ready to fight.

“Lay down your weapon, Dwalin Son of Fundin, Elen is not a threat.” Gandalf said, already getting annoyed by the dwarves’ reaction to Elen’s presence.

“How can you say that?! She’s an elf!” Dwalin kept shouting, getting the others attention. Fili and Kili almost bolted into the hallway to see the elf maiden. Balin laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder in hope to calm him down. The other dwarves were watching the scene before them. “And she’s a woman! Do you really think that Thorin will allow a woman to accompany us?!” Dwalin growled at the wizard.

“I am indeed an elf, master dwarf.” Elen answered, circling around Gandalf to step before Dwalin. No trace of fear on her face. “However, I am only half-elf.”

“Half-elf?” Kili asked, Elen looked at the young brunette dwarf and smiled kindly at him, nodding her head.

“And I won’t let you judge me over my gender. I might be a woman but you’ll be surprised of what I’m capable of. I suggest you keep your sexist comments for yourself, master dwarf.” Elen said as she glared at Dwalin.

“Even if you’re only half-elf you cannot be trusted. No one can trust an elf!” Dwalin hissed but removed his hand from his sword as his eyes studied Elen’s gentle and innocent face. Her eyes were particularly beautiful, they glowed with kindness even if the silver and light blue of her iris made them look cold. Her face was harmonious as if she had been painted by Eru himself. No trace of facial hair could be seen on the soft features of her chin and jaw. Her long silver-blond hair framed her face perfectly, falling in soft waves down her back. She was a beautiful woman but yet, the company could see that she wasn’t just a pretty face. She held herself as if nothing could harm her and her swords and multiples daggers were a proof of her skills. However, Balin and Dwalin noticed how small she was. She was barely Dwalin’s height and for an elf that was extremely short.

“I don’t know if I can trust you either, master dwarf. After all, we do not know each other.” Elen answered, crossing her arms before her chest and raising an eyebrow sassily at the bald dwarf. Dwalin grunted and turned away, muttering something about how Thorin won’t like it.

Weirdly, after Dwalin’s departure the other dwarves went back to their food leaving Balin, Fili and Kili behind as they approached Elen.

“Miss, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Balin, at your service.” A kind old dwarf said and bowed before the woman. Elen smiled and bowed back before the dwarf.

“Elentári, at yours.” She answered before Fili and Kili introduced themselves as well. Elen find them funny and weirdly nice toward her but she wasn’t going to complain. The dwarves followed their friends in the dining-room and Elen removed her daggers, leaving her sword still tied around her back. She turned around to look at Gandalf and Bilbo. The hobbit was looking even more flustered than before as the dwarves started to piled up food on his table.

“Well… that wasn’t that bad, was it!” Elen stated, making Bilbo smile and Gandalf sigh.

“Wait for Thorin and we will see…” Gandalf muttered.

After that, the three of them followed the dwarves into the dining-room and each one of them introduced themselves as they got the chance to meet Elen properly. They weren’t that bad in Elen’s opinion, even if a bunch of them were casting her warry looks because of her origins. After all, she couldn’t blame them. The woman knew what her race had done to them, leaving them to roam the wild lands homeless and in grief. Elen knew what it felt like to be rejected by the elves… They weren’t really found of her either. Elen sighed as she thought about what Gandalf told her the night before leaving the Lothlorien. She couldn’t simply enter the company and force them to like her and most of all, she couldn’t tell them that she was the only one that helped them that day when Smaug attacked their homeland.  

“Mr. Gandalf?” Dori called as he approached Gandalf with a small glass of wine. “A little glass of red wine, as requested. It’s, eh, got a fruity bouquet.” Dori said with a bright smile and the wizard took the glass.

“Ah, Cheers.” Gandalf said and raised his glass. Gandalf drank the tiny glass of wine then looked sadly at its emptiness, probably wanting a little more. Elen chuckled as she watched her friend’s sad face over a glass of wine.

Dori then quickly made his way toward Elen and offered her a cup of tea, which she gladly accepted and thanked him for his kindness. The dwarf smiled then joined his friends around Bilbo’s table. The dwarves started to have a grand feast with all Bilbo’s food. They were throwing food around and were quite rude and messy about it if you asked Elen. The half-elf leaned over the doorframe, looking at the mess the dwarves were doing then turned to look at Bilbo who was about to tear his hair off his head. Bofur throwed some food to his brother, Bombur, the movement catching Elen’s attention.

“Bombur, catch!” Bofur shouted, throwing an egg at his brother who caught it directly in his mouth and raised his arms in glee.

Everyone cheered and began to throw food around. Bilbo walked away in disgust and Elen sent a kind understanding smile his way. He looked at his pantry in shock; it has been entirely cleared of food. Elen sighed as Fili walked on top of the table, carrying several cups of ale and knocking aside the food in his way.

“Who wants an ale? There you go.” Fili shouted over the racket.

“Let him have another drink!” Dwalin called to Fili.

“Here you go.” Fili answered then Dwalin poured his ale into Oin’s hearing trumpet, and as Oin spluttered in anger, everyone else laughed. Oin put his hearing trumpet to his mouth and blew the ale out of it, making it squeal weirdly. One of the dwarves yelled, “On the count of three!” and the dwarves pounded their tankards together. Someone counts, “One! …Two!” as Elen watched almost feeling dizzy and looked at Gandalf who was laughing at the dwarves’ behavior over food.

Then all the dwarves went quiet and began drinking their ale together. They were incredibly messy, as ale fell all over their faces and ran down their beards. Elen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms before her chest. When finished drinking, the dwarf began burping making the poor lady crinkle. The youngest dwarf, Ori, lets out the biggest burp and all the dwarves laughed. Bilbo looked away in disgust and Elen let out a sigh.

“By Eru…” She muttered and turned away to join Bilbo into his pillaged pantry. “Mister Baggins?” Elen called, making Bilbo turn around. The woman smiled at the hobbit who seemed to relax at her presence and Elen asked the poor hobbit if he was alright.

“I will be when all these dwarves will be out of my house.” Bilbo answered grumpily. Elen laughed at his words and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“They are indeed… quite loud.” Elen said not finding another word to define the merry troupe. Bilbo chuckled at her choice of words then suddenly start stuttering.

“Oh… I’m very sorry! I didn’t ask you if you wanted something to eat, my lady! Where are my manners!” Bilbo said as he looked around the pantry.

“Do not fret, mister Baggins. I am not in need of eating as much as the dwarves.” Elen answered with a kind giggle. Bilbo looked at her and smiled, looking exhausted. “and Elentári or just Elen is fine.” She added. Bilbo nodded his head.

“Then call me Bilbo, my lady… I mean… Elen.” Bilbo stuttered, making the woman smile and chuckle once again. “I made some soup earlier, I think this is the only thing they did not find interest in.” Bilbo added and gestured for Elen to follow him into his kitchen.

When the meal finished, the dwarves left the table and began to walk about Bilbo’s house. Elen was sitting at the kitchen table, eating her soup quietly as Bofur and Nori entered the room. Bofur smiled at her and Elen couldn’t help but stare at his funny hat.

“I love your hat.” She spoke up, grinning at Bofur.

“Why thank you, lass.” Bofur answered with a bright grin as Bilbo grabbed a doily back from Nori.

“Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!” Bilbo said in exasperation, trying to see if the doily was damaged.

“But it’s full of holes!” Bofur exclaimed, eyeing Bilbo skeptically. Elen could tell that this dwarf was a cheeky one as she saw the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“It’s supposed to look like that, it’s crochet.” Bilbo answered as a matter of fact.

“Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you got the balls for it.” Bofur said cheekily and grinned at his other fellows as they laughed, even Elen chuckled as she got up to clean her now empty plate.

“Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!” Bilbo exclaimed, on the verge of breaking down and maybe commit mass murder.

“My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?” Gandalf asked as he entered the kitchen, the wizard had to bend in order to stand in the house as he was way too tall for the hobbit hole. Bilbo looked at Gandalf in disbelief.

“What’s the matter? I’m surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?” Bilbo shrieked and that is when Elen understood. Gandalf didn’t tell him about the quest.  

“Gandalf! You didn’t tell our host about what you were planning?” Elen asked in an accusing tone as she walked to follow the hobbit and the wizard.  

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them.” Gandalf answered Bilbo, ignoring Elen’s comment. The woman huffed at the wizard’s antics as Bofur grabbed the chain of sausages that was holding Nori and they started to play tug­of­war with the sausages. Bilbo turned around and left the kitchen to reach the hallway, Gandalf and Elen following behind.

“I don’t want to get used to them.” Bilbo said angrily. “The state of my kitchen! There’s mud trod into the carpet, they’ve pi­pillaged the pantry.” The hobbit stuttered out of anger. “I’m not even going to tell you what they’ve done in the bathroom; they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing. I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!”

Elen was about to answer him when Ori appeared before Bilbo, holding his plate in confusion.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?” Ori asked Bilbo who didn’t have the time to answer as Fili appeared next to them.

“Here you go, Ori, give it to me.” Fili said as he took the plate from Ori and threw it behind his back to his brother who threw it Bifur’s way. The dwarf caught it behind his back, without even looking at it. Kili, Fili, and other dwarves began throwing the plates, bowls, and utensils to each other, eventually throwing them to the sink to be washed. As dishware flew around, Gandalf and Elen ducked to avoid getting hit. Elen smiled at the dwarves’ skills and chuckled to herself next to Gandalf.

“Excuse me, that’s my mother’s West Farthing crockery, it’s over a hundred years old!” Bilbo shouted in fear. Elen knew that for the hobbit this was too much.

The dwarves who remained at the tablet began rhythmically drumming on the tablet with utensils and their fists. They used the knives and forks, hitting them together.

“And can­can you not do that? You’ll blunt them!” Bilbo quickly asked out to the dwarves.

“Ooh, you hear that, lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.” Bofur said sarcastically, making Elen roll her eyes for the hundredth times this evening. This is when the dwarves started to sing to Elen’s amusement.

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks

Smash the bottles and burn the corks

Chip the glasses and crack the plates

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!

Cut the cloth and tread on the fat

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat

Pour the milk on the pantry floor

Splash the wine on every door

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl

Pound them up with a thumping pole

When you’ve finished, if any are whole

Send them down the hall to roll

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”

Elen laughed as she followed the dwarves around during the song, ducking here and there in order to avoid the flying dishes. She found herself back in the kitchen, the dwarves laughing as the song ended and Gandalf sitting at the table with them. Bilbo huffed up in anger, only to find all the dishes stacked neatly and cleanly on the kitchen table. The dwarves and Gandalf kept laughing happily when suddenly, there were three loud knocks on the door, and everyone fell silent. Elen looked around and her eyes met Gandalf’s. He looked at her with a mix of anticipation and amusement.

“He is here.” The wizard said and Elen couldn’t help but swallow hard as she looked at the door from her spot in the kitchen.


Tell me what you think guys! I’d love to have feedbacks! 

Chapter 2 link 

Little Brat

Overall Summary: You are the oldest of the Durins and you live your life happily until the day Smaug attacks. That is the day when you lost the trust of your little brother, Thorin.

Chapter Summary: During the battle for Moria, you realize that a lot has changed and when Frerin tries to talk to you, you run only to be confronted at a certain hobbit hole 142 years later.

A/n: Once again, TA stands for Third Age followed by the year and although it is more canonically correct with the timeline, the dwarves look the same age they do in the movie. Also I really liked this idea which is why I’m updating it within the 24 hours that I posted it. Also just google Frerin and look for a Gerard Butler one so that would’ve give you an idea of what he looks like. This chapter is confrontation with Frerin and then the next is probably with Thorin. Also, you save a lot of lives in this because you’re a bad ass. Okay. Bye lol

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

TA 2799

You let your hair loose and put your helmet on. You had been living peacefully with Nain for the past 29 years. He had welcomed you with open arms and even given you a room in the royal wing. He was confused as to why you were there and you explained what had happened and he accepted everyone in with open arms.

Now, Thror had asked for warriors to join him in reclaiming Moria and while you no longer spoke to your family, you still wanted to help. When brought up to Nain, he refused. You were apart of the royal family and you could not risk your life for this quest. That caused you to sneak into the armory and hide with the rest of the soldiers.

The journey to Moria was long, but worth it. The night before you had met the dwarves from Ered Luin. You had spotted your brothers, but avoided them or anyone from the blue mountains. You did not risk the chance of being recognized.

You look up as a dwarf with a Mohawk sits next to you.

“Why are you wearing your armor lad?” he asks and you don’ want to answer him knowing that your voice would give you away. “He’s a mute. Has been since the day he was born,” another dwarf says and you thank Durin that Gilrin was a good friend of yours. He had been the first to welcome you and has been by your side since you got to the iron hills.

“Why the armor?” the Mohawk asks. “Trust issues. I’m Gilrin son of Jorin,” the other dwarf says, “and this is Fallan son of Galdon.”

“Dwalin son of fundin,” the dwarf says and you shake his proffered hand. It’s then that you realize exactly how much you’ve missed out on. This dwarf was your cousin and Balin’s little brother. As the two males continue their talking, you begin to wonder how much has changed.

Did Dis finally start courting Vili? Did Thorin and Frerin find a beautiful dwarrowdam to court? All these questions ran through your head as you try to get a good night’s rest before heading into Moria.

You were severely outnumbered. It was absolutely tragic. You tried to keep an eye on your little brothers, but you had lost Thorin in the fight. You bring your sword up, blocking one of the orcs and you can hear another one coming up behind you but you can’t do anything about it. You hear the one behind you stop with a squelching noise and you behead the one in front of you. You turn to find Dwalin, pulling out his ax.

“Thanks Dwalin,” you say and he looks momentarily stunned before picking up his fight. You see Frerin being attacked from the front and an orc sneaking up from behind him. You pull your bow out and notch an arrow. You knew it was going to give you away, but you did not care. You pull back and let it go soaring into the air, embedding itself into the orc. Frerin immediately turns around after killing his orc, ready to attack. You notice the frown on his face and he realizes that the orc is no long there. He bends down and plucks out the arrow from the orc and you take that as a cue to move away.

You stand by your cousin Fundin and you got his back well he had yours. The pair of you continue to fight back to back until a sudden roar pierces the air. You turn to find the pale orc holding a head and you know, by the crown gracing it, it is your grandfather.

“No!” You scream, trying to move forward to get to the pale orc. A hand stops you, “no y/n! You mustn’t. You must stay here. You will only get yourself killed and we do not need another royal to be lost,” Fundin states and you look at your cousin confused. “The arrows gave you away, lass and the beads. Now fight alongside me?” he asks and you nod.

The both of you continue fighting until you hear yet another scream. Its Azog facing off against Thorin and it looks like Thorin cut off his arm. Azog retreats slowly, screaming. And the orcs follows. You see Thorin leading a charge and that gives you renewed vigor. A few hours later, the battle is finally over. You take a seat next to Fundin on a large rock, tired and worn out. You rest your back against his, taking off your helmet. You no longer care if you’re spotted.

“Adad!” you hear a voice call out and you open your eyes to find Dwalin making his way towards you. He goes to kneel in front of his father with an older dwarf right behind him. “Y/n?” Balin asks as he spots you. You turn to look at him and man he’s gotten older. “Hello Balin,” you tell him tiredly.

“You know this lass?” Dwalin asks. “This is the princess. Thrain’s oldest,” Balin says kneeling by your side and taking your hands in his. “You’ve gotten older,” you say. “It has been 29 years since I saw you last so,” he shrugs and you smile. “Where is Thorin and Frerin and my father?” you ask him. “Frerin and Thorin are looking for survivors. They’re both fine, your father however. It seems that he has disappeared,” Balin informs and that makes you sit up straighter. “What do you mean disappear?” you ask him. “We cannot find him and his body is nowhere to be found,” he tells you and you stand, putting your helmet back on to help with the search.

“Thorin,” Frerin says walking up to his brother. “What is it Frerin?” he asks, looking around. “Look at what I found,” Frerin says, holding up the arrow that he pulled out of the orc that was going to kill him.

Thorin stops and looks at the arrow and up at his brother confused. “It’s an arrow Frerin,” Thorin tells him, going back to looking for survivors. “A dwarvish arrow. What dwarf uses arrows?” Frerin asks excitedly.

Thorin sighs and looks at his brother. “There are many dwarfs that use arrows. That could belong to anyone,” Thorin says, trying not to sound hopeful. He missed you a lot, but he was still angry at the fact that you left your family behind.

“But this is the arrow father gave to y/n on her name day,” Frerin argues and Thorin looks away and Frerin remembers that he wouldn’t know. “The Durin runes are engraved into the arrowhead,” Frerin says, showing him the arrowhead.

“If she was here or not does not matter. She left our family. She made her decision and she left,” Thorin says, anger bubbling up. Frerin sighs.

Ever since you left, Thorin had been more serious and grumpy than ever. He took his role as the prince more seriously and he no longer had time for his siblings and became less family oriented. Things went downhill from the minute you left. Dis cried for you every night for the first year and boy did he miss you.

Thorin walks away and Frerin looks around, trying to see if he can find you. Unknowingly, Thorin was doing the same thing but with the bodies on the ground. He sees Balin walking with another dwarf. Maybe he knows where y/n. He makes his way over to them and calls for Balin.

The dwarves turn and his question dies on his lips as he realizes that Balin was with you. Your eyes widen as you spot your brother and the idea of flight or fight goes through your head and you choose the former. You turn around and walk away quickly, trying to excape from your brother.

You hear Frerin calling your name, but you continue to ignore him, picking up your pace and throwing off your helmet. You did not want to meet him again not now. You spot a battle ram and you take it, wanting to get as far away from here as possible. As you disappear into the distance, Thorin’s hatred only increases.

TA 2941

You knock on the round green door in front of you. Thorin had sent word to the dwarven kingdoms around middle earth asking for help to reclaim Erebor and by Durin, you were going to help which is why you were standing in front of this hobbit hole.

The door opens to reveal a very flustered looking hobbit. “Y/n, at your service,” you say, bowing and he groans. “How many more of you are there?” he asks, letting you in. You shrug. “I might have seen three more dwarves behind me,” you say, taking off your cloak. He groans yet again.

You look for a coat hook and you place it there.

“I’m Bilbo Baggins,” he says, holding out his hand. You take it from him. “Nice to meet you,” you say as you hear other movement from the pantry. You look to find Dwalin and Balin. It has been so long. “Look what the cat dragged up,” you say, leaning on the entrance. They both turn around.

“Aye lass. It’s good to see you,” Balin says, coming up to you and headbutting you. “Thorin isn’t going to be too pleased,” Dwalin tells you. “You let me worry about my little brother,” you say. “You mean both of your brothers. Frerin was not too pleased watching you run away,” Balin says. That makes your cringe. You expected Thorin to be upset with you, but not Frerin. You should have though, after all you left them when they need you the most.

“How is Dis?” you ask. “She was married to Vili and had two sons. One named Fili and the other named Kili. Fili is in his 80s and Kili in his 70s,” Balin informs you and you look away guiltily. You had not seen your sister in 171 years and it’s bringing up memories., memories that you missed so much. You’re pretty sure you still have the dress that you bought back in Dale that faithful day.

“I-,” but you are interrupted by a knock on the door. You try to listen turn as Bilbo opens it the door. They’re probably the three dwarves you saw earlier. “Fili,” one says. “Frerin,” the other says and that makes your heart speed up a bit. “And Kili,” who you assume to be the last one says. “At your service,” they all say together. Of course he would come with his nephews. You sink further into the pantry. Balin gives you a strange look.

“Lass you cannot seriously be thinking of hiding?” he asks you as you hear the three other dwarves make their way into the hobbit hole.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to go through this now,” you say. Dwalin exchanges a look with his brother and suddenly you are shoved out into the hall. You glare at Dwalin and he shrugs looking at the food.

“Y/n?” you hear a voice ask and you turn to find just Frerin standing there, but there are hurried footsteps and he is soon joined by a blonde and brunette. “It can’t be Aunt y/n, can it uncle?” the blonde asks but Frerin ignores him just staring at you and that makes you squirm.

“Fili, Kili come on,” Dwalin says, grabbing the two brothers and dragging them into the room. “Bilbo is there a private place we could talk?” you ask the hobbit. He nods. “Just keep on going straight through this hall and there’s a spare room at the end.”

You follow his instructions with your brother following behind. You enter the room and take a seat. You look at Frerin and he doesn’t look too happy to see you. You just sit there awkwardly for a few minutes before you break the silence.

“You’re mad,” you states. “Oh I’m beyond mad. I am pissed,” he growls out pacing.

“It’s been 142 years-,”

“You ran away from me like a damn coward! You ran away from us because you are a coward!” he shouts, pointing his finger at you. “I left because of Thorin! You have no idea what he did to me. What he put me through!” you shout back also standing.

“You chose to let that get to you. You could’ve ignored it, but you let it get to you! You are weak and you sure as hell do not belong on this quest!”

“You think it’s just about that? You think I left because of that? He let amad die! I could’ve rescued her, but he stopped me from doing so and he let her die. You think that you know me, little brother you are sorely mistaken. The one person that kept this family together is the one person that he let die and that’s why I left. Look, you can hate me all you want, but I came her for one reason and one reason only: to take back the home that was stolen from us. If you and Thorin have a problem with that then you have to deal with it,” you tell him, exiting the room and not hearing Frerin’s whispered, “I could never hate you.”

Tags: @sdavid09 @jotink78 @tschrist1  also since you reblogged it with a very sad gif, I figured you liked it @amralimedeano ol

Sansukh Re-read Ch.6

Thorin kept his word. He visited the Chamber every day. Bilbo kept on with his life, busily pottering around his little Hobbit-Hole and garden, blithely unconcerned with what his neighbours thought of him. He lent his mithril-shirt to a museum, although Hobbits called it a ‘mathom-house’. From what Thorin could understand, a mathom was something that was meant to gather dust; interesting, but impractical. A mithril-shirt, impractical! He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. Truly, Hobbits were preposterous little creatures!

I’m with Thorin on this one. Even if there hasn’t been war in the Shire in centuries, it’s still a good idea to hold onto something like that in case there’s another quest.

His parents Kifur and Bomrís and his uncle Bomfur (the father to Bofur and Bombur) were greeting him, and Thorin wondered how that worked. Did Mahal let you know in some way? Or had they discovered it as Thorin had, peering through the waters of Gimlîn-zâram?

You’ll find out before too long, Thorin.

“Allow him some space,” he said sternly. It had been ten years, but he still recalled how disoriented and overwhelmed he had been. “He has just met our Maker and his parents, and will be—”

“Zabadâl belkul!” cried a joyous voice, and Thorin was rudely interrupted by a heavy, entirely naked body slamming into him and bowling him over. “Zabadâl belkul, melhekhel!”

“Bifur!” Thorin managed, spitting out white-and-black streaked hair. “Bifur, calm down!”

“Zûr zu?” Bifur grabbed Thorin’s shoulders and smashed their heads together. Thorin reeled, stars sparking before his eyes.

“Ach! Stop, wait-”

“Abbad, abbad, sakhab!” Bifur crowed, and then patted at Thorin’s face. “Ah, melhekhel, Thorin-zabad. Sakhab at you, I never thought I’d see you again, and so unchanged. Why, you could skin me wi’ that glare! Does a body good to see it.”

Thorin stopped struggling and stared at him, dumbfounded. “Bifur… you’re speaking Westron.”

“Am I?” Bifur blinked, and then he smiled. There was a faint red scar where once there had been a huge stomach-churning dent in his skull, and he seemed far more lucid than Thorin could remember him ever being – if still rather odd. “Oh. So I am.”

I know some of the reunions are heartbreaking, but Bifur’s is hilarious. Bifur is one of my favorite canonical dwarves, and I always wondered what he’d be like if I could understand what he says in Dwarvish, and this take on his personality fits pretty well with what I’d thought he’d be like, but better.

“And you’re naked,” Fíli added.

“On top of Thorin,” Kíli sniggered.

Bifur beamed at them, pushing away from Thorin and exclaiming, “Lads! Fíli, Kíli, shamukh ra ghelekhur aimâ, how wonderful it is to see you!”

“Good to see you too,” Kíli told him, pulling him to his feet.

“Be even better if we hadn’t seen so much of you,” Fíli mumbled. Bifur simply laughed and tugged the boys into a hug, throwing his arms around their necks and holding on tightly.

Thorin pushed himself up and rubbed his forehead. “Well, it seems you slip back into Khuzdul every now and then,” he said to himself, before smiling at the faces of his nephews as they tried to extricate themselves from Bifur’s ebullience. Raising his voice he said, “Perhaps we should find you some clothes…”

“No perhaps about it,” Kíli wheezed.

Bifur jerked away suddenly to stare at his hands with a perplexed expression. His eyes were completely focused for the first time in ten years. “Oh, yes.” Then he raised his eyebrows and looked down at himself with apparent surprise. “Aye, all right. Although I could get used to this, you know. Rather… freeing. You should try it.”

“My eyes,” moaned Fíli.

“My brain,” whimpered Kíli.

I love everything about this, I can’t deny it. Bifur streaking around the halls, hugging Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli while he’s stark naked, Fíli’s reaction to Bifur wanting to stay naked…just everything about this is hilarious and makes my day whenever I read it.

Abruptly Bifur tensed, his head jerking up and his eyes widening. “Wait, 'ikhuzh! 'Amad, 'adad, uncle Bomfur… where are they?”

“Behind you, Bifur,” said an amused voice. “The Maker recreated your birthmark, I see.”

Another dwarrowdam I like? Bomrís. I relate to her a lot, and I like her little humorous comment here. Orla, Hrera, and Frís are ahead of her on the list, but I like Bomrís too.

“Aye, we eat,” Thorin said, trying and failing to repress a smile. “There’s food, and plenty of it.”

“Oh.” Bifur frowned for a moment, and then he brightened. “Are there flowers?”

I love that Bifur still likes flowers, and presumably vegetables, now that he’s in the Halls.

The door flew open, and Dwalin stormed in, followed by Óin. “You idiot!” he thundered.

“That’s our King,” Óin muttered.

“You idiot, your Majesty,” snarled Dwalin, teeth snapping around the words.

It’s not Dáin’s fault, he did what he had to do to keep the peace and make sure Erebor’s relationship with the Dalemen was good, but still this is hilarious.

“You’re a damned fool,” said Dwalin bluntly.

Dáin laughed his raspy laugh. “Aye, probably. But practical.”

Dáin is a better king than 90% of the fandom gives him credit for being. He’s practical, he knows how to lead. Yes, being Lord of the Iron Hills isn’t the same as being King of Erebor, but he ruled for over a hundred years there, and there was peace and prosperity. Now that he’s king of Erebor, he’s bringing the same thing there, it’ll just take those closest to Thorin time to see it.

Hrera looked politely incredulous. “He must be touched in the head. That one has had too much sun.”

“He’s a fine young Dwarrow,” Thorin said, and then he wondered why he felt the need to defend him. Surely he hadn’t become so fond of the lad?

“Fine young Dwarrow or not, he’s going to get sunburnt,” she predicted.

She was not wrong. Gimli was reddened and peeling by the time he made it back down from the summit, and Hrera tutted over the state of his braids. “Terrible,” she said disapprovingly. “Look at that! Has the boy never used hair oils in his life?”

“Probably not,” Thorin said. “He dislikes primping and frippery, as he calls it.”

I have a feeling that, when Gimli finally passes into the Halls, the first thing Hrera will do when she meets him will be to sit him down and work on his hair while lecturing him on it’s importance.

“I suppose that makes you King, then!” one laughed. Gimli rolled his eyes and waved that away.

“No fear! I would have to be blind drunk to want to be King. Have you seen Dáin lately? He looks like granite pounded by giants!

Gimli’s not an idiot, he knows that he wouldn’t want the responsibility that comes from being king, at least not this early on.

"What’s this my dainty ears do hear?” said Nori, clumping towards them with a tray of tankards and a creased grin. “Our Gimli versus the Stonehelm? Now that I’d pay to see.”

“No you wouldn’t!” cried a Dwarf. “You’d be running the books, you old crook!”

“Aye, we’d be paying you!”

Nori winked. “Pack of lies it is, my dears, and I’m ashamed to know you.”

See Nori in his natural element, running the books for various bets and making a tidy profit off of them.

“Well then, I’d give you two to three odds on Gimli versus the Stonehelm, but in the third match, I’m afraid, it’s gonna have t’ drop to one outta nine.”

“And why, may I ask?” Gimli said indignantly. “I’m the finest axeman of my age in the whole of Erebor!”

“Indeed you are, my little Lord,” said Nori slyly, “but in the third match you’d be fightin’ Dwalin son of Fundin, an’ I don’t much fancy yer chances.”

A groan rose from around the table, and Gimli shook his head. “Alas!” he laughed. “Well, I’d have to bet against myself - and you’ve already done so well out of me too, you old villain.”

“Knew you’d beat Lóni,” Nori said in satisfaction. “All right, boys, pay up.”

With some grumbling, the assembled drinkers handed Nori a few coins. “Thanking you kindly,” he said, grinning broadly. Biting hard on one, he nodded and then slipped them into a pocket. Sitting himself down at the table, he eased his metal leg out in front of him and a knife abruptly appeared in his hands. He absently spun it around his fingers as he raised his braided eyebrows, now liberally streaked with grey. “Well, my brave lads? Not taking me up on my very generous odds?”

Gimli took another sip of his ale and licked the foam from his moustache. “Me, fight Dwalin? You’ve got to be joking. He taught me most of what I know. I’d be warg-food before the day was out.”

“You’d be warg-food before the minute was out,” said a Dwarf, and Gimli puffed out his chest in indignation.

“I’ll have you know I’d last at least twenty.” He suddenly grinned. “Seconds.”

Again, Nori would do so well running the books for these fights, it wouldn’t be funny. I wonder if he ever arranges things like that in the afterlife, pitting together two dwarven heroes and having everyone bet on which one would be the victor.

“Oh, I see,” she said, and looked back to where the thief was amusing the lads with knife tricks. “He lost that leg at the Battle, then?”


“I’m sorry, my dear.” She patted his cheek comfortingly and sighed. “Oh, you stone-faced Durin men. If you would only say!”

I love Hrera. And I also sympathize with her, since apparently getting Durins to open up is like wringing water from a stone. I can be done with a lot of time, effort, and patience, but no one could say that it’s easy.

“Here now, what’s this about your brother, Nori?” called one of the youngsters, and the call was echoed by several around the table.

Nori rolled his eyes dramatically. “Do you mean the mother-hen or the scribbler?”

Now, I wonder which brother is which? Nori’s nicknames for them are so subtle it’s hard to tell. I love his reaction though, it’s like 'oh for Mahal’s sake, can’t I go five minutes without someone asking after my brothers?’.

A little sigh echoed around the table, and Thorin shook his head at their longing expressions. His weaver companion was the epitome of Dwarven male beauty, after all, with his silvery hair, classic Stiffbeard nose, thick legs and stout frame. Unfortunately for his many admirers, he was one of the many Dwarrows whose heart was given to their craft. Dori loved his weaving, his brothers, his wines and his tea, and had as much interest in romance as he had in cross-country skiing. Furthermore, he had a punch like a charging oliphaunt.

I relate to this version of Dori a lot, if I’m honest. I feel the same way he does about romance and sex, I just don’t have the muscle that he does, or family that accepts it like he does. I also love how Nori makes a bit of profit off of the dwarf who’s sighing over Dori, it’s just so Nori.

“You idiots really need to find a new obsession,” snorted Thorin – and Gimli chuckled under his breath.

“Tell him, and we’ll have Ori, my father and uncle, my cousins, Bofur and probably even Bombur down here to glare at you and cheer Dori on,” he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. “I’d like to place a wager, if I may?”

Nori winked at him. “Better believe it, little star. The Company sticks together.”

“The Company are weird,” said a youngster after a pause.

“That too!” Nori laughed.

I can’t deny any of that. The Company stick together, and they’re also weird. It’s why they work so well together, they’re accepting of each other’s quirks.

“Disgraceful,” Hrera said absently. “I’ll wager you a silver clasp for one of your daggers, Thorin dear? On Gimli to win, of course.”

Another reason to love Hrera. Prim, proper, elegant, and willing to make wagers with her grandson on fights.

“Older than Thorin now.” He shook his head. “Ach, Mahal’s mighty balls, don’t get sentimental,” Dwalin growled to himself. “Orla’d tan yer hide if she saw you whining about yer good fortune.”

Aw, Dwalin’s already getting a bit sentimental towards Orla, he already cares what she thinks of him.

Dáin straightened on the throne, his manner stern. “We shall have no more Azanulbizars,” he said, and Thrór let out a gusty sigh of relief. “Balin, we need your wisdom here. You can’t leave me alone to deal with Thranduil and Glóin both.”

As good of a point as that is, Dáin, it doesn’t work to convince Balin. I wonder if it would have worked if Balin knew that, in the future, both Thranduil and Gloin would be in the mountain at the same time for an extended length of time?

“I risked my life for my King. I risked my life because he called,” Balin said, drawing himself up and speaking with quiet authority. “Now – now I understand why he wished for this, why he had no other choice. It is a horror than cannot be tolerated, and a shame upon us all.”

Dáin sighed. “I am not that King.”

Thorin’s hand tensed on Thrór’s arm. “I did not have the chance to be your King, Balin,” he muttered. “I was a warrior first; a soldier who led his people in exile. Statecraft, politics, treaties, compromise, diplomacy – I never practised any of these. Dáin knows more of Kingship than I ever did. Listen to him, not to the memory of my vain pride! Moria is a glittering trap, a fool’s hope. Do not do this!”

Balin, don’t be a fool. Listen to Dáin, he knows what he’s talking about. Yes, he’s not the king you followed, Thorin is, but hasn’t Dáin done well so far? Erebor has grown from the wreck it was post battle, relations with the other nearby kingdoms are going well…going after Moria now, so soon after the last battle, is a bad idea.

This is by no means every fic I’ve ever enjoyed - that list would probably stretch to the end of time. These are a handful of the ones that I’ve enjoyed the most and were written by truly masterful wordsmiths, so I hope that you and your friend can enjoy them as much as I did. No doubt this list will grow as I find more lovely things.

It gets a bit long, so I’ll put it under a cut.

MarieJacquelyn’s Big Fat Hobbit Fic Recommendation List

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cute fat baby Dwalin based on my post from earlier. Also Dwalin loving his mum’s cuddles and Fundin having to chase his son around the house all day every day (Dwalin figured out that crawling away will lead to him being held). Also slightly older Dwalin with baby Nori, because Balin and Dori decided to cut down babysitting efforts by letting one baby hold the other

Little Topaz
(A.K.A.  Determamfidd Feeding My Crackfic Bunnies Again)

When Kili, sister-son to Thorin Oakenshield and second Prince of Erebor, announced that Tauriel, Captain of Thranduil’s Guard was his One and that she had accepted his courtship and offer of marriage, his Uncle’s reaction to the entire thing was…. epic to say the least.

All right.  So maybe nobody (except for One Specific Person) dared to draw near while Thorin Oakenshield raged and wrought havoc and destruction in his private smithy.  Middle-earth was wholly unfamiliar with the term “going nuclear” but Thorin’s wrath was certainly reminiscent of dragon-wrought fire and destruction and was fearsome indeed. 

When Thorin was done raging, his beloved Hobbit Consort was calmly waiting outside his door with tea and a willingness to just sit down and listen to Thorin’s not-unjustified fears about this whole business.  Eventually the point was made that Thorin did have the happiness of his beloved nephew at the heart of it all and perhaps, as Captain Tauriel was instrumental in saving the lives of both his beloved boys, Elves were not quite the misbegotten Spawn of Morgoth that Thorin would dearly like to believe they were.  

(Thorin still loathed Thranduil Elven-King but as the Elven-King was a bit of a git, Bilbo said that was perfectly fine.) 

And then Bilbo started talking to him about Dwelves and Dwobbits and that one way or the other, they would be seeing these in Erebor quite soon and in Bilbo’s case, there would definitely be a wait of a few months. 

Thorin fainted by the way.  He growled that he was simply exhausted, thank you kindly and he’d simply fallen asleep but when a Dwarf’s best friend happened to be Dwalin, Son of Fundin, there was no way Thorin would ever live that one down. 

Now while the stories of Men about Dwarves are mostly inaccurate and hilariously, if not horrifically ridiculous, there was one thing they did get right. 

Dwarves adored children. 

In fact, Dale of Old had sold all these wonderful toys of Dwarf-make throughout all of Middle-earth and some of these even wound up as cherished hand me downs in the Shire.  The Dwarves of Erebor delighted in creating these things for the children of any race and so with the rebuilding of both Erebor and Dale, these wonderful toys came about again.  

Kili learned to make toys from Bofur and Bifur.  He had to, especially when Tauriel whispered to him that she was expecting their child. 

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Dori, Nori, Gloìn, Oìn, Bifur, Bombur, and Crown Prince Fili

When Miranda Rivers and Liz Mullane proudly declared that the number of Kiwi actors chosen to play a Dwarf had reached 7 (more than half the Dwarves), little did they expect that this would become a nuisance for Warner Bros…

The hobbit is the story of a company of 13 Dwarves led by the Pretender to the throne of the Kingdom of Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield, of  Durin’s line. Besides his nephews, sister sons Fili (his Crown Prince) and Kili, he had chosen the sons of his dead brother’s kinsman Fundin, Balin and Dwalin, and their cousins Oìn and Gloìn (all of them of Royal blood); the three brothers Dori, Nori and Ori, who were also of the line of Durin; but also the brothers Bombur and Bofur, and their cousin Bifur, who were mere descendants of Dwarves of Moria, but who had loyalty, honour and a willing heart to the highest degree.

In Peter Jackson’s vision the story of the Hobbit is not only about the regaining of a lost treasure, but also about the reconquest of a long-lost Kingdom.

The Dwarves are at the heart of this story, they are the backbone: you don’t always see it, but without it there is no life at all.

Peter Jackson had no preconceptions: he said he would choose actors from any part of the world. He wanted the right people, no more no less.

Chance wanted that he would choose 7 Kiwi actors for the dwarves (well, at first they were only 6, but this is another story). The roles of Dori, Nori, Oìn, Gloìn, Bifur, Bombur, and Fili are no less important because they are played by Kiwi actors.

So yes to Ori because Adam Brown is British and no to his brothers?

Yes to Kili, but no to Fili?

This really seems to be a bad Halloween joke…