Getting Somewhere : You and Sigrid have a very in-depth conversation about your past with Thranduil and the King tries to apologize in his own little way. (part 2)
Not Fair: Bard is planning to marry Sigrid to one of the heirs of the two other Kingdoms and you’re absolutely livid. (part 1)
Adventure Awaits- Haldir x Reader: A year has passed since Erebor had been reclaimed and everything seemed to be going well until you are forced to go on another adventure not only with dwarves, but elves and men as well.
The Aim of Elves- Thorin x Reader: You disobey Thranduil’s orders to ignore the dwarves and instead of helping the dwarves escape their homeland, you destroy the dragon that dare take it away, butnot without consequences.
The Elf and the Dwarf- Thorin x Reader:(COMPLETED)Erebor was reclaimed and the line of Durin had not ended. You were an elf and now that your quest was over, you didn’t know what to do especially since you gained feelings for a certain King Under the Mountain.
Feisty Little Hobbit- Company x Reader: You’re Bilbo’s little sister, but the exact opposite of him and you did not like these dwarves at the moment.
Kitty Cats:You and your son, Frerin II, accidentally turn Thorin, Kili, Fili, Dwalin, Balin and Gandalf into cats and this is the result (Spin off of The Elf and The Dwarf)
Little Brat:(Thorin x Sister!Reader) You are the oldest of the Durins and you live your life happily until the day Smaug attacks. That is when you lost the trust of your little brother, Thorin.
Perfect Two: (Frerin x Reader) You and Thorin have been best friends for years, but you are more interested in his little brother. Thorn tries his best to get you together, but can he succeed? NO SMAUG or SAURON
Non-specific (Company x Reader):
Broken:When you invited the dwarves in, you did not know what you got yourself into.
Real Life (Actor Drabbles):
Go Away Richard:You’re Luke’s date to the premiere of Beauty and the Beast, but Richard keeps on trying to steal you away.
Great Actors: You are set to play Thorin’s lover but no one knows that you’re Richard’s lover as well.
Tumblr: Richard, Aidan and Dean ask you to show them what Tumblr is.
Lord of the Rings:
One, Two or Three-Shots In Alphabetical Order by Character
The Elf Queen: Aragorn shares his memories of the elf queen under the mountain.
ONE SHOTS IN WHICH YOU ARE RELATED TO THE CHARACTERS AND FAMILY IS THE MAIN FOCUS:
Winchester: (Daughter/Sister of Sam and Dean)
No: You want to go on the hunt, but Sam and Dean don’t let you.
Baby Girl: You meet Jared Padalecki and he sees your self harm scars when you ask him to sign something, and starts crying and takes you to the back room and tells you you’re beautiful and kisses your scars.
You loved Dwalin, you really did, with all of your
heart. He was strong, courageous, and
such a sweetie. No one who didn’t know
him personally wouldn’t have guessed that, but it was true. When he had a moment alone with you he would
just pull you into his arms and lavish you with kisses and praise. You loved the little moments like that.
But Dwalin was also stubborn, pig-headed, prideful
side, and also had a short fuse. It was
a very volatile combination. You knew
this, ever since you had met him on the journey. You learned it first hand in fact as he was
stubborn and pissy about you, a human girl, joining their company to reclaim
But all that had worked out. You were skilled in fighting and healing, was
quick to prove your worth, and around the time you all got to Beorn’s, had won
over Dwalin’s heart. That was a night
you liked to re-visit when you and Dwalin had your little spats or arguments,
remembering how gentle he was, how all his walls came tumbling down as he bared
his heart to you, how he kissed you when you both admitted your love for each
Thorin made a special point of witnessing the lad’s celebration. Fíli and Kíli spent all their time gawking at Gimrís, and Frerin did naught but complain that he couldn’t drink the very fine spirit Bilbo had sent from the Shire for the occasion. Bifur was entertaining himself by walking through people. It was a very unnerving sight.
I love this. Thorin’s there to watch the celebration, Fíli and Kíli just want to stare at Gimrís, Frerin just wants to complain about not being able to drink, and Bifur’s having fun being dead and being able to walk through people. Different dwarves enjoy the celebration differently, and I love the variety.
“Thank you, Aunt Dís,” he said, dazed as he accepted it. The bag fell away to reveal a pair of very familiar throwing axes. He looked up, his eyes wide and white. She smiled.
“Fíli would like you to have them, no doubt,” she said.
I always have feels at this point. Years ago, when Gimli first started going to visit Dís, she couldn’t bear to part with Fíli or Kíli’s things, because the wound was too fresh. Now, it’s healed a little, at least it’s not as raw, and she can bear to part with something of Fíli’s because she knows it’s something Gimli would be able to put to good use, and Fíli would rather them be used than just sit in a closet somewhere.
The Ri Brothers had banded together and had made him a beautiful warm woollen travelling surcoat with a matching pair of trousers. The stitching around the edges was hardy and strong, and the colour was a warm rusty brown that made the red of his beard appear brighter. “Thank you!” Gimli said, and held it up to admire the gold thread interwoven through the edges.
Whenever they band together, they always do great things. Joining a quest, making fantastic traveling clothes, etc.
“Gimrís,” he said in awe. “You made this?”
She bristled. “What, are you calling me a liar?”
As much as I love their bickering, it sort of backfired in this case for Gimrís. She’s expecting their usual trade of loving insults, and instead Gimli’s honestly astonished at what a beautiful gift she’d made him and so she has to discuss feelings.
“Well,” she said, uncomfortable in his embrace, “I suppose you’re not completely awful.”
He rolled his eyes, and then he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Namadith. You’re not always a brat.”
“That’s as close as they’ll ever get, I suppose,” Mizim said with a sigh, dabbing at her eyes.
She’s probably not wrong about that.
A set o’ lungs on the bairn that echoed even in my ears!“
"Aye, and is that why you dropped him?” Glóin said, his eyebrow arching. Mizim folded her arms, her eyes glinting rather dangerously. Óin let go of Gimli’s shoulders like hot coals.
“Óin dropped the baby?” said Bombur incredulously.
“Aye, right on his precious wee head. Lucky he’s a Dwarf, or it could have hurt him!”
“Lucky he landed on his head, you mean,” Gimrís said. “Did the floor tiles crack?”
Gimli scowled at her.
“He wouldn’t stop wriggling!” Óin said. “I hadn’t delivered a babby before. He was the first – I was nervous!”
This is my favorite thing ever. Óin getting drunk and embarrassing Gimli, with unwitting help from Mizim and Glóin, by talking about his birth. Gimli should be lucky that he lives in an Age before there were cameras, or the three of them would’ve probably been bringing out naked baby pictures.
“Poor little mite, dropped on his head - an’ Mizim swearin’ a blue streak an’ all, an’ Glóin about to faint wi’ first-time-father jitters,” Óin crooned, patting the mortified Gimli’s cheek. “Still, it didn’t faze him at all! He just roared at me some more, an’ when I picked him back up he straightaway soiled himself all down the front o’ my apron t’ teach me a lesson.”
Drunk Óin is hilarious.
Gimrís was trying in vain to muffle her snickers by biting down on her hand. Gimli scowled at her. “You wait til it’s your turn. Eight years, sister. Watch your back.”
“Aye, not long until you’ve reached your centenary, little lass,” said Glóin, smiling at her.
She tossed her head. “If you tell such stories about me, I’ll put an emetic in your food.”
I approve of Gimrís’ method of getting them to not tell embarrassing stories about her. Gimli’s probably regretting that he didn’t think up a suitable threat before this all happened.
“And I saw her first!” Fíli snapped. “Thorin, tell him to keep his grubby hands to himself!”
Thorin shook his head. “Not for all the world.”
“If you do,” Bifur added, his face alive with gladness, “I will knock out every one of your teeth.”
Again, I love Bifur. He’s not even alive anymore, and he still will do whatever’s in his power (although that’s not much considering he’s dead) to make sure Bofur gets his shot at happiness.
“Khuzd tada bijebî âysîthi mud oshmâkhî dhi zurkur ughvashâhu, oh, never thought I would live to see the day,” Bifur said happily.
“You didn’t,” said Fíli sourly.
“Oh, hush,” Thorin told his grousing nephews, a lump in his throat. “Bofur is falling in love, his dearest wish, and they have the time to be together. That is no small thing.”
Okay, even though Fíli only said it because he’s grumpy that someone else is with Gimrís, that’s hilarious. And Thorin looking at those two and seeing what could have been if he and Bilbo had just wised up sooner? All the feels.
Thorin ignored him with as much dignity as he could muster – which was a lot.
Understatement of the Age.
Glóin drew Mizim aside. “Did what I just think happened actually happen?”
“You’ve got eyes,” she said under her breath. “Yes, our daughter is diving headlong into courting faster than a dropped hammer, and you, you old bear, are going to respect her wishes and leave Bofur alone, d'you hear?”
“I wouldn’t hurt him!” he protested. “He’s of the Company! I’d just… I’d just scare him a little.”
Overprotective Papa Glóin is no match for his wife. Mizim won’t let him threaten Bofur and risk chasing him off. She probably noticed that he’s a little insecure about the fact that he’s older than Gimrís and knows that it wouldn’t take much ‘scaring’ to chase him off even if he does love Gimrís.
“About sixty, sixty-five so far,” said Náli, the old white-haired training-master.
“Too many,” Thorin whispered. “One Dwarf is too many, let alone sixty-five!”
Oh Balin, what are you doing? You’ve lost your mind, it’s like Thorin said, your love of tradition is getting the better of you. Don’t you remember Azanulbizar? Do you really want another battle like that?
“The Balrog,” Thorin spat.
Gimli’s shoulders tensed. “Aye, but what of Durin’s Bane?”
Many faces blanched, but several Dwarves scoffed loudly. “An ancient thing long turned to dust! We have naught to fear from old tales!”
You are all gonna be eating those words soon enough.
“Ori,” Thorin said helplessly, and then he scrubbed his face with his hands. “No, not Ori. Youngest of us all, little Ori in your knitted gloves… Ori, you are but a hundred and eleven! I cannot… Ori, in Moria, your brothers…”
I wonder, if Ori had realized how soon Nori would be dying, and how alone Dori would be, if he still would have agreed. On the one hand, it’s important to have a historian along on something like this. On the other hand, he’d be leaving Dori alone with no one to care for.
“Aye, well, my uncle is more than a little deep in his cups,” Gimli laughed, and clapped Lóni’s back. “Ask him again when he is sober!”
When he’s sober, he’s still interested. It’s a good thing Thorin talked you out of going too, though, or else the Fellowship would have ended differently.
Not long after Gimli’s nameday, Dwalin was completely blindsided by a proposal of courtship from his deputy, the stony, severe Orla. He had been so surprised he actually said yes.
Orla turning Dwalin’s world upside down and proposing to him is awesome. I can’t lie, though, she’s my favorite OC in Sansukh, so I think a lot of what she does is awesome.
One of Dwalin’s troops made the mistake of joking about the relationship.
No-one made that mistake ever again.
I wonder if Orla took care of it, Dwalin did, or if they teamed up to do it.
“Hello, my boy,” he said softly. “Hello Thorin, son of Dwalin.”
“Oh, you did not,” said Thorin in disgust.
Everyone wants to name their kids after you, Thorin, you need to get used to it.
“You bloody stupid noble twit,” were Nori’s first words to Thorin, and he lowered his head and laughed softly.
“Aye, guilty as charged. But at least I wasn’t killed over a rigged game of conkers.”
Nori dying because of a rigged game of conkers is hilarious! I mean, it’s sad he died, but just the reason for his death being /conkers/ of all things? That’s hilarious.
“Tashf!” Bifur snapped, and then launched himself at Nori and wrapped him in his arms. Nori gasped as all the air was knocked out of him.
“Mahal below, what the…” he choked.“Bifur, hang on a bleedin’ second, let a body get his breaf back…”
“He’s a little excited to see you,” said Fíli dryly.
“Nah, really? Do tell,” Nori managed.
“D'you think he’ll do that to each one of the Company as they arrive?” Kíli wondered.
“Yes,” Bifur said emphatically. “I will, and stop talking about me as if I weren’t here.”
“Wait a mo, he’s speaking in Westron…!”
“He does that now,” Kíli said. “It’s getting him to stop that’s the trick. Hello Nori!”
I love Bifur. I love their reactions to Bifur here, but I mostly just love Bifur and how enthusiastic he is to welcome all of his friends when they die.
Dead, yes. Retired? Never.
Best summary of Nori’s personality ever, in less than 5 words.
He wanted to know who that young whelp was, following Bilbo around like a lost puppy!
Thorin, you’re jealous of a little hobbit, calm down. Bilbo didn’t forget you.
The boy looked confused, as though hearing such things out of the mouths of adults was not something he was used to. “You… don’t mind me having a secret hiding place?”
“Heavens no, Frodo m'boy. I have so many secrets they positively leak out of my ears; why in the world would I mind you having secrets of your own? Come on, put your bags down, and let’s go see about elevensies, shall we?”
I love Bilbo and Frodo’s interactions, especially when Frodo’s this young. And Bilbo having so many secrets that they leak out of his pointed ears is an understatement, especially when you consider his secret love of Thorin and the Ring, among others.
“Rivendell!” Frodo took a step forward out from underneath Bilbo’s arm, his large blue eyes wide. “Do you think I will ever see it?”
Fascination with elves must be in the Baggins DNA. None of the other Bagginses leave the Shire, though, so only Bilbo and Frodo have discovered it.
“Yes, Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo said with one last longing look at Rivendell, before racing down the corridor. Thorin’s lips parted on a soft breath of surprise.
Then he berated himself for an idiot and a fool.
“An uncle?” He turned to Bilbo. “I didn’t know you had siblings. How could I not know that about you?”
He was a little disconcerted. Thorin wanted to know everything about Bilbo. Everything. He could not fulfil his promise otherwise.
Your married is showing again, Thorin. Also, just be glad you don’t have Frerin or one of the others with you this time, or they would’ve teased you so much about being jealous of the little hobbit.
He’d long grown used to seeing Bilbo’s proficiency in the kitchen, though it never failed to make his mouth quirk. Why was one blade so different to another? Perhaps he should have suggested that the Burglar dice his enemies.
That actually might have helped Bilbo learn to use the sword. Just describe different food preparation techniques and have Bilbo act them out with the sword.
Thorin smiled to himself. “Even stubborn, blind, arrogant Dwarves.”
“Even idiots with their great heads stuffed firmly up their backsides,” added Bilbo, his mouth twitching. Thorin started in surprise, and then shook his head, laughing softly beneath his breath.
“Blasted creature.” How he wished… oh, how he wished. His arms ached to hold the infuriating little Burglar. He wanted to touch Bilbo’s curly hair, and to feel those nimble little hands against the nape of his neck. He longed to kiss that quick and clever mouth, to nip that sharp tongue with his teeth. “Blasted, ridiculous, absurd Hobbit.”
As funny as this is, it also has all the feels.
“If I gave you a beard, would you leave me alone?!”
Mahal’s resorting to bribery, the plan to be annoying is working a bit more quickly than I’d suspected. Then again, it’s best to never underestimate dwarves.
a member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, it is your duty to protect your leader
and king. That duty never ended, even
after Erebor was reclaimed and Thorin crowned king. You just never thought you would have had to
protect him at a dance party.
You took a deep breath and let out a happy sigh as
you watched the number of dwarves and men and elves dance around in the great
hall of Erebor. It had been a few months
since Erebor was reclaimed, since the Battle of Five Armies. Thorin was crowned king, Fili crowned
prince. Kili and his elf maid were in a very
entertaining courtship, seeing how it drove Thorin mad at times.
All the other company you had traveled with were
around. Oin and Gloin were at one table,
chatting with Gloin’s wife. The Ri
brothers were all dancing about, as were the Ur brothers. Dwalin and Balin sat at the head table with
Thorin and some other members of counsel and family. And you, the human they picked up during
their travels was off in a corner, observing the festivities.
It was by a sheer stroke of fate that you stumbled
across the company while they traveled towards Rivendell. You were a wanderer, looking for a place to
call home, when you fell in with them.
Friendships were formed quickly, and you were soon a true member of the
company. And when the mountain was
reclaimed, you were granted a home here, in the royal wing, no less! Sure, it was odd being the only human in permanent
residence, but everyone soon took to you.
They called you the tall warrior, even if you were only a few inches
taller than everyone else. So here, you
were, in your home, enjoying the celebration.
The days passed slowly. Two Dwarves who had died during the Battle of Five Armies (as they were now calling it) bowed to Thorin upon meeting him, and at least another six punched him square in the face. His grandfather patted his shoulder consolingly.
“You should have seen this place after Azanulbizar,” was all he said.
Can’t blame either group of dwarves, really.
In Erebor, there was a funeral. Thorin watched as they laid the Arkenstone on his cold, dead breast, wrapped his parchment-white and stiffened fingers around the hilt of Orcrist, and sealed his body and those of his nephews in the tomb.
Bilbo cried bitterly the whole time.
As the white stone passed over Fíli’s rent and rigid corpse, Thorin covered his mouth with his hands, pressing them so fiercely against his bloodless lips that he could feel the shape of his teeth beneath. With a savage curse he closed his eyes and fled that sight.
I feel bad for Thorin during this, for many reasons. One of them, though, is because it must be extremely weird, watching your own funeral. And, of course, he blames himself for Fíli and Kíli’s deaths and so watching their funerals was almost impossible for him. No wonder he goes to see Gimli next.
Work was proceeding apace on the Mountain. Everywhere he looked Thorin could see the devastation caused by the dragon and the echoes of his folly. Even as the Kingdom slowly began to rise from mourning, Thorin could barely look at his living companions without seeing the light of the gold-sickness that had once danced in their eyes. No-one had been as thoroughly lost as Thorin himself, of course, but he had dragged them all behind him into his madness nevertheless.
To see the guilt and grief in their faces made his own grow until it felt like a stone chained around his neck.
Thorin’s guilt issues, let me show them to you. With how much he’s blaming himself here, is it any wonder that it takes him decades to finally start accepting that not everything that goes wrong is his fault?
Ori was out of his sickbed as soon as Óin gave him permission, though a racking cough continued to plague him. He immediately began to help Nori with relearning to walk. The former thief was sullen as he clattered about their rooms. With each of his arms looped over the shoulders of his brothers, he winced and cursed with every rattling step until finally he roared with anger and resentment. Ori stood his ground, all his shyness and uncertainty burned away in the fires of battle. He faced his brother’s rage calmly until Nori had exhausted himself, and then helped him back to his chair. Dori made pot of tea after pot of tea, lips white and stiff, before carefully plaiting the drained and silent Nori’s red-brown hair back into its elaborate braids. Then the Brothers Ri held onto Nori’s hands tightly until he felt able to cry.
The brothers Ri are some of of my favorite dwarves in the company (only Bifur beats them out) and this paragraph illustrates why I love them so much. Nori is stubborn, trying to get back to normal as soon as possible and not really dealing with his feelings about the injury, nearly in denial, really. Then, he moves onto the anger stage, ranting at Ori and Ori just takes it, lets his brother get it all out because he knows it’s what Nori needs. Dori is there in the background, making tea and taking care of Nori’s hair, and then he and Ori are there for Nori when he finally accepts it and mourns his loss. No matter what, they’re there for each other, and I love that about them.
“Hobbit,” said Dwalin, and cleared his throat loudly. “Not sure if anyone’s said this t’ you at all.” Then he bowed before the astonished Hobbit and said, with all sincerity;
“Aye.” – “Thank you, laddie.” – “We can never thank you enough.” The rest of the company also bowed low. Bilbo looked upset and flustered.
“No, you mustn’t,” he said, and he wrung his little hands. “No, please, my friends…”
Balin rose and winked at Bilbo. “Khazâd-bâhel.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Bilbo snapped, and mopped at his eyes with one of his new handkerchiefs. “Dwarves! Overdramatic, the lot of you! Oh, I am going to miss you all dreadfully.”
Goodbyes are always hard. This is both tear-jerking and a bit amusing, with Bilbo trying to call the dwarves dreadful and overdramatic and everything else, but unable to hide that he’s going to miss them so much. He didn’t expect this when he set out on his adventure, he didn’t know what to expect really, and now he’s leaving and he’ll miss his friends. (And Thorin.)
“I’ll be through in a year or two,” Glóin promised. “I’ll be travelling back to Ered Luin to collect my family. Bombur too. We’ll stop by. Don’t forget!”
With a leg-up from Dori, Bilbo crawled astride his pony. “I’ll lock up my dishes specially,” he laughed. “Farewell, my friends! Write as often as you can!”
Oh, Bilbo, don’t you want to see dwarves tossing your dishes around your kitchen again? I’d have thought you’d enjoy it a second time. I enjoyed it the first time, but maybe that’s because it wasn’t my dishes they were tossing around :)
“Kill a goblin or two for me!” said Bombur.
“Oh, but don’t get too close!”
“Aye, and watch out for Trolls!”
Out of all the things that Bilbo’s supposed to watch out for, elves are hands down the funniest. Not sure which dwarf said it (there are a few different options for which one it could be), but it’s hilarious nonetheless.
Thorin took a last look at their brave little Burglar to whom he owed so much. “Farewell, Bilbo Baggins, respectable gentlehobbit of Bag End,” he said half to himself. “Farewell, wise and kindly child of the West.” He drank in the sight of the curly head, the bold bare little chin, the small leaf-like ears, the shrewd eyes and sharp tongue, clever hands and large furry feet. “I am sorry,” he added, his voice nearly a whisper.
Bilbo abruptly stopped and faced the Mountain, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Farewell, Thorin Oakenshield,” he said, his face lifting. “And Fíli and Kíli! May your memory never fade!”
They’re both talking to each other, and each thinks the other can’t hear them. And they’re both a bit wrong and it’s just…ugh, the feels.
Fíli nervously tugged at a moustache braid. “Frerin told me something.”
Thorin sighed. “Do I need to hit him?”
Fíli scowled. “Very hard. Repeatedly.”
I can get where Fíli and Kíli are coming from, it’d be hard to remember to refer to someone younger than you (in years lived anyway, he’s got them beat in years existing) ‘Uncle’, but I can see where Frerin is coming from too. If he hadn’t died, he likely would have been as close to Fíli and Kíli as Thorin is, and they likely would have called him 'Uncle’ sometimes too. Now, he’s got the chance to have that, and he still can’t, because Fíli and Kíli are technically older than him and don’t feel right calling him that…I feel a bit sorry for Frerin, but it’s amusing too, seeing how good he is at annoying Fíli and Kíli. I can’t really blame Thorin for placing a bet, I’d have been doing the same thing.
“Why did Mahal give you this gift?” Fíli said. “A gift that doesn’t even work?”
“I think perhaps it is because I shouted at him,” Thorin said thoughtfully, and a short bark of laughter escaped Fíli.
“You yelled at our Maker,” he said, and shook his head against Thorin’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable sometimes.”
Only Thorin could yell at Mahal and get a gift out of it. I swear, Thorin’s one of his favorites.
“Hmm,” Fíli said, and pulled back to frown up at his uncle. “Who hears you?”
“Dáin does, now and then. Occasionally Balin, Dori and Glóin as well, and Dwalin quite frequently. And Gimli most of all.”
“Gimli?” Fíli’s mouth dropped open. “Our little cousin Gimli?”
“He’s not so little anymore,” Thorin said, raising his eyebrows. “The lad has more beard than Bofur, is broader than Nori and is most certainly taller than you, though not as tall as Kíli. I judge he’s over four foot six and has further still to grow.”
“I know, I know, but he’ll always be little Gimli with the terrible temper to me,” Fíli said, shaking his head. “Gimli hears you! Well, that is a shock.”
Okay, but imagine Gimli, when he’s finally old enough to pass on, and hearing Fíli call him 'little Gimli with the terrible temper’ and simultaneously crying (because he missed them so much) and being a bit embarrassed (I’m a dwarf lord! I helped save all of Arda! I’m taller than you are! You can’t call me 'little’ anymore). And Fíli just saying 'watch me’.
“I know that look,” Thorin said suspiciously. “That is not a reassuring look.”
That is a dwarf who helped raise these two and knows exactly how much trouble Kíli and Fíli can get into.
“Ah, Náli!” Gimli growled, and brought the handle of his own weapon up before his face. The clash was deafening. “You will have to do better than that! Dwalin would have had me defeated and mopping out the barracks by now!”
I have a feeling that, no matter how old Gimli gets, he’ll think of Dwalin as the greatest axeman he knew, even if he skill does someday surpass Dwalin’s.
“Aye, and rivers will run backward and Elves will live underground and Dwarves will roost in trees, Laín’s son,” Gimli retorted, rather rudely. Fíli and Kíli immediately broke out into snickers, and Thorin smiled despite himself.
Best insult ever! If more people in my life cared about the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, I would use this insult all the time.
Also, Náli was pretty fair. Yeah, Lóni was the one who attacked when Gimli’s back was turned, after the fight was over, but Gimli also didn’t need to hit him in the nose. Lóni was already stopped because of the ale in his face, he should’ve let the teacher handle it from there.
“Hold that to your nose, I have to clean up all this ale.” Gimli eyed the mess and grabbed another cloth before hunkering down on his knees and beginning to soak up the spilled ale. “I’m not going to apologise for being good,” he said as he scrubbed, blowing a lock of fiery hair out of his eyes. “Neither am I going to feel sorry for a Dwarf who tried to axe me in the back! But a training partner with more strength and reach than me – now, that is of interest. You can get the recognition you crave so badly when you knock me on my back fair and square. What do you say?”
I gotta say, Gimli’s more forgiving than I am. I probably wouldn’t have forgiven someone trying to axe me in the back this easily. He’s got a point about Lóni being a good training partner, though.
“Is old Borin’s tavern still running then?” Kíli wondered, and then quailed at Thorin’s sudden dark look. Fíli gave a weak little laugh and hushed Kíli with a hand over his mouth.
“Just… an academic interest, Thorin.”
“Yes, never stepped foot in it ourselves,” Kíli said, muffled by Fíli’s palm.
“Or broke a table.”
“Or a lamp.”
“Or Borin’s teeth.”
“Lies and conjecture.”
“Must have been two other Dwarves that looked like us.”
“Yes, and with the same names. Imposters, no doubt.”
Thorin rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience.
Fíli and Kíli trying to cover up for each other when they reveal something that they didn’t want Thorin to know is hilarious, as is Thorin’s reaction to it.
Gimli blinked, and then he shook his head sharply. “Surely I can’t get drunk from a few fumes,” he said to himself, and Kíli snorted.
“You’re not drunk, lad,” Thorin said, and shook his own head in disbelief. “We’re here.”
Gimli squinted, peering straight past Thorin. “Must be imagining things. I can’t be drunk and I do not think I am mad…”
Fíli smacked his forehead with his palm.
Thorin resisted the urge to do the same. “Not mad either, cousin. Mahal grants us this, that we can see you from beyond the mists. To me he gave a greater gift. Some may hear me.”
“I’m of Durin’s line,” Gimli continued, his brow creasing with worry. “I could be mad. I’m too young for it, though.”
“Steady,” Fíli said quietly, putting a hand on Thorin’s shoulder as he shook with anger and shame.
“You are not mad,” he said shortly. “Only very, very dense.”
This is hilarious. A bit sad for Thorin, because of the mad bit, but mostly hilarious. Anyone’s reaction would probably be similar if they thought dead people were talking to them, though, so I can’t really blame him.
“He was her brother,” Gimli whispered, and then he pulled at his vibrant hair. “Oh, I am such a fool! Of course my conscience would not let me rest until I had seen her. I lost my cousins, but she lost all she had left in the world. Not drunk, not mad, not tricked, but surely a blind and selfish fool!”
“He… he thinks you’re his conscience,” said Fíli blankly.
Thorin looked at him helplessly.
I laughed a bit here too, imagining Thorin with a little button that says 'Conscience’ and standing on Gimli’s shoulder like Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio.
“How’d a boulder-faced shrub like Glóin end up with a Dwarrowdam like that?” Fíli said, eyes wide.
“He was kind, honest and respectful,” Thorin said. “And he made her laugh.”
I’ve said it before, but I kind of imagine it as a Roger and Jessica Rabbit situation. Everyone was chasing after Mizim because of her looks, but Glóin loved her for who she was and won her over by making her laugh.
“I’m in love,” Kíli declared fervently.
“I saw her first,” Fíli snarled.
Thorin gritted his teeth. “You are both dead.”
Kíli gave him a wounded look. “That was uncalled for.”
What I really want to know is that, if Gimli played with Fíli and Kíli as often as they say, how did they never see Mizim or Gimrís before? Did Gimli just always go over to their place? Or did they just never visit each others’ homes? Honestly, I don’t care though, because this piece of dialogue and the previous one I talked about are more than worth it.
“Brother,” the lass growled. “I hope you have your axe on you, because after waking me you are going to need it.”
Me, whenever my brother’s loud early in the morning when I had a late shift the night before.
“Aye, and I called her 'Aunt’ and she bounced me on her knee, I remember,” Gimli said, and splashed water over his face. “If she does not wish to see me, then I will try again another time. She has been left alone all this time and so she must feel that she is alone. She should know that we think of her and that she is still cared for as a Dwarf, not just as the Regent of Thorin’s Hall. I am not her son or her brother, but I am family and I care. And I loved them too.”
Reason #10000 why I love Gimli. A lot of the other reasons are from this story, although many of them are from canon too.
“You’re a good boy, my son.”
He squirmed away, batting at her with wet hands. “Mum, I am sixty-three soon! I am not a boy!”
She snorted. “You are such a boy, Gimli. I’ll find your clasps. I hope you still fit your engraved boots.”
I laughed a bit because I did this when I was a kid. Everyone would say I was a little girl, and I’d say, indignantly, that I was [insert age here] and so I was /not/ a little girl. Never thought I’d related so well to a sixty-three year old dwarf, but that’s part of the magic of this story. The characters are dangerously relatable, both canon and OC.
“You must have been fighting a thornbush. And those trousers don’t suit that tunic either. You won’t be able to wear it much longer, you know. Your shoulders are about to come through the seams.”
“Not my fault,” Gimli said defensively. “I grew too fast.”
“You ate too much, you mean,” she said, and he sent an elbow back into her stomach.
“I had to eat, I was growing!”
This is only a snippet of it, but I love all of Gimli and Gimrís’ bickering. Gimrís uses loving insults as a way to let her brother know she cares about him, and Gimli knows what she’s doing and goes back and forth with her and it’s just adorable, really.
“Where are we?” Thorin hissed, following closely behind. “I do not recognise this part of the Halls.”
“Don’t tell me you’re lost!” said Kíli.
Someone needs to make Thorin a map.
“Mining?” Thorin frowned. “His father is a Lord. He does not need to mine for a living.”
“Thorin, everyone worked, even you. You took on blacksmithing, I was a jeweller like Mum, and Kíli was a bowyer. No doubt Óin took Gimli into the mines; I know he still treats the miners now and then for their injuries.”
Thorin, dear, did you forget how much smithing you did over the years between Erebor’s fall and Erebor being reclaimed?
“Gimli, son of Glóin,” Gimli said with a polite bow. “I am here to see the Lady Dís, if she will.”
“The Lady sees no-one,” the Dwarf said shortly, and began to close the door. It stopped on Gimli’s heavy engraved boot, and the younger Dwarf gave the guard a pleasant smile.
“Announce me,” he suggested. “Perhaps she will make an exception.”
“Are you deaf, boy? The Lady sees no-one,” the guard with impatience, and kicked Gimli’s foot away.
“Perhaps I should make myself clearer,” Gimli said, still smiling. “Gimli of the Line of Durin, here to see his cousin, if she will.”
The guard’s sneer dropped like a stone. “I’ll announce you.”
“You do that.”
“All right,” Thorin said. “Now I believe the boy is related to me.”
If that didn’t make it clear, Thorin, I don’t know what would.
“She’ll see you,” he said. “But don’t expect her to be pleasant.”
“I don’t expect her to be anything other than as she is,” said Gimli with admirable calmness.
I love Gimli.
To the three children of Thráin, they had said, Mahal gave one a voice of golden thunder, one a voice of silver bells, but the third – the third had a voice of mithril and diamonds, more lovely than the voices of Elves and as pure as the snowmelt from the peak of the Mountain.
Another thing I love about this story? Sentences like this. It’s so marvelously descriptive, and it fits with the one voice we have heard (Thorin), and gives you a basis for how his siblings might sound.
Gimli blinked, and then he looked down at his hands. “You’re not my Aunt,” he said slowly. “You’re my cousin. And we… we lost some of our family. There’s just me and Gimrís and you, because everyone else…”
“Is dead,” Dís croaked, and finally looked up from the fire. “Everyone is dead. My whole family, but for cousins like you. My sons, my last brother, my One, my father… we were so proud, so strong. Well, Mahal has punished us for our pride, at least.”
“No!” Gimli blurted, and he took another couple of quick steps towards her. “Not everyone is dead!”
“You?” Dís laughed. It was utterly unbearable to hear. “Your sister? Balin, Dwalin, your father and uncle? You are not my family. We are relatives, no more than that. No, my family is dead and gone. The line of Thrór is ended.”
“They’re not all dead,” Gimli repeated, and he lifted his eyes to hers. “There’s you.”
She froze, and then sagged. “Me.”
Oh Dís! She’s so alone, and Gimli’s trying to make her see that she /isn’t/ alone, not completely, and that there are still people left who love her for who she is, not because she’s the princess, and who mourn Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli for who they were, rather than just the king and princes.
Gimli snorted. “Oh, Kíli’s hair.”
To Thorin’s amazement, she laughed – rusty and unused, but a true laugh. “Kíli’s damned hair. I used to struggle with him every morning to at least get most of it out of his eyes. Mahal only knows how he ever aimed at a target through that curtain.”
“I feel I should be offended,” Kíli said.
Fíli gave him a sad half-grin. “The truth offends no-one but you, brother.”
“Don’t look at me,” Thorin added. “I remember the fits you had when your mother brought out a comb.”
Just everything about this. I love it. I’m with Kíli, though, I never have patience to do more than just brush my hair, and to pull it up into a ponytail on days I have to work.
“Gladly.” Gimli settled at her feet and launched into a tale of three Dwarflings and a hammer 'borrowed’ from Dwalin. Dís listened closely, and laughed at the terrible predicament the three found themselves in; at the clever plots put into practice that only compounded the problem tenfold; at Dwalin’s outrage when the hammer was finally recovered and the terrible injustice of the punishment (polishing every weapon he owned until it gleamed). Her eyes were glossy, but she no longer wept. Her hand remained on Gimli’s vibrant hair, and every now and then she stroked it absently.
I wonder if Dwalin remembers this story, if he ever teased Gimli about it when he got older (like when Legolas is around?).
“Gimrís said she would come with me next time. Would you like that?”
She blinked as though coming awake, and then she smiled. It was still tinged with her fathomless sorrow, but she no longer looked or sounded more dead than alive. “That would be lovely. How old is your sister now?”
“Fifty-four,” Gimli said with a shudder.
“Ah, the fifties. I feel for your poor mother, with two Dwarrows under the age of seventy in her home.”
“I am very mature!” Gimli protested, and Dís laughed softly.
“Indeed you are. Bring Gimrís, and I will tell you of the time my brothers and I stole Dwalin’s favourite toy Oliphaunt.”
Gimli choked on his breath, and then laughed loudly and merrily. “Aye, that sounds like a tale not to be missed!”
Everything about this, but especially little Dwalin having a toy Oliphaunt that Dís and her brothers stole.