Got a haircut today! Donated about all 13 inches I had to Wigs for Kids and then had my stylist shave patterns into my Alopecia patches.
I’m super happy with this, so I just had to share.
(Top photo is reference to what I had/donated).
You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden, that you would not survive in the wild and that you have no place amongst us? I’ve never been so wrong in all my life.
broken fingers wasn’t easy, you realised, nearly wanting to cry by the side of
the small river you had camped beside after the arduous climb down from the
Carrock. Looking around yourself – cursing the bloody goblins for your broken
bones – everyone was busy, and you knew your hair needed to be braided before
it dried, or it would be an unmanageable mess of ringlets floating in a cloud
around your face.
A/N: For the anon that wanted a reader-insert Thranduil’s wife (with a Bofur appearance) in Mirkwood. I hope you enjoy this!
Summary: The dwarves arrive in Mirkwood, and the elf!reader has to moderate Thranduil’s vehement reactions.
Word Count: 1,711
Warnings: None, I think…
You loved your
duties as Queen of Mirkwood. It brought you joy to plan feasts and ceremonies,
to tend the luscious gardens that hid in the recesses of the woodland fortress,
but most of all you loved to care for your subjects. The people of Mirkwood
were so dear to you, and you felt their struggles and triumphs as your own.
You did not
particularly love the duty of mediating your husband, King Thranduil’s
sternness. The vigorous, impulsive, headstrong elf you had fallen in love with
was slowly replaced by a suffering, brooding king as Greenwood fell to the dark
powers of Arda. You knew of his troubles, and the very good reasons for his
withdrawing, but it did not make your task of persuading him to be mildly
pleasant any easier. You loved him with everything in you, but he did not
always make the relationship easy.
Frodo was inconsolable and there was little to be done about it.
“Sweetpea,” Bilbo tried.
Frodo only sobbed in response.
“It’s all right,” Bilbo said.
Frodo shook his head and cried a little harder; he did not believe Bilbo. Not at all.
“Frodo, please,” Bilbo pleaded.
Frodo heaved with his sobs. “But … but … he died!”
Bilbo sighed. “Yes … I know, sweetie, but–”
Frodo shook his head again. “The king died!”
Bilbo closed eyes and cursed his foolishness; he should never have read the ending to Frodo. “I know.”
“It’s … it’s … not fair!”
“No. No, it’s not fair. But that’s the lesson to learn.”
“Change it! Make him live again!”
Bilbo hung his head; it was going to be a very long night.
“What’s going on?!”
Frodo was up like a shot and ran to Thorin, who had just come through the front door. He clung on to the former Dwarf-king as a drowning man held on to the only thing that would keep him from going under. Thorin was even more confused than when he’d come upon Frodo sobbing and demanding something be changed, that someone live again.
“Who died?” Thorin asked, bending down to wrap Frodo up in his arms.
Bilbo gave Thorin a look that didn’t need words.
“You read him your story?!” Thorin hissed out, while Frodo buried his face in Thorin’s beard. At least the boys sobs were easing.
“I thought he understood it was only a story!”
“Truly? You want a five-year-old to understand that?”
Bilbo sighed out a huff. “Well, it’s not like it’s what really happened!”
Frodo’s tears were subsiding but he tightened his hold on Thorin all the same.
“It’s all right, ghivashel,” Thorin said, softly. He cradled Frodo gently to him, rocking the boy just a little. “I’m right here. I’m all right. I told you I was coming back.”
Frodo sniffled and pushed back so that he could look Thorin. He little eyes searched over the face and beard he knew and loved so well. But he said, almost to himself, “But Mummy and Daddy said they’d come back too.”
Frodo broke into more sobs and once again, buried his face in Thorin’s beard, holding on tight to the Uncle he feared he’d loose.
Thorin gave Bilbo a rather heated glare and, to his credit, Bilbo looked appropriately remorseful.
“I think it’s time for someone to be in bed,” Thorin said, gently.
Frodo sniffled and asked, not looking up, “Can I sleep with you?”
Thorin closed his eyes and begged for strength; it would mean a somewhat sleepless night. So, of course, he said, “Absolutely.”
Not a half-hour later, Bilbo, Thorin and Frodo were all snug in the big bed in Bag End’s Master Bedroom. Frodo was sound asleep, snug as a bug, in between his two Uncles, who were not asleep.
“Why,” Thorin whispered, “for Mahal’s sake, did you read him that ending?!”
“He asked!” Bilbo insisted. “I tried to put him off but he kept pestering me about it!”
“And you couldn’t have told him the truth?! That Everyone lived; no one died?!”
Bilbo rolled his eyes. “The deaths at the end are poignant! They drive home the moral of the story!”
Thorin made a disbelieving face. “And he couldn’t have learned that with knowing the truth?!”
Bilbo huffed. “Everyone got better, the king and burglar admitted their stupidity then argued over the king tossing away his crown, before they moved to The Shire to shack up and cause a minor scandal in Hobbiton .. does not have quite the same impact as the King and his nephews dying!”
“Well … go tell that to the dead King!”
“Keep it up and I will be!”
Believe it or not, this is my first little fic that I wrote just on Tumblr!!
Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x (human!wife)reader Genres: mild angst, fluff Words: 1.650 Summary: After a tiring and upsetting meeting with Erebor’s dwarrowdams, you seek comfort in your husband’s arms - requested by @deepestfirefun
Boromir would have acknowledged that Thorin Oakenshield is a King approximately 10 seconds after meeting him.
He would’ve immediately volunteered to come along to the Quest, because the military situation in Gondor is manageable right now, and besides they really do not need the possibility of a dragon allying himself with Mordor, seriously, orcs are bad enough.
Boromir then proceeds to appoint himself as the official protector of everyone around him (because that’s what he does) and after a while he starts to challenge the people who sound like they’re being less than respectful towards Thorin, because fuck that. From what he’s seen and heard, this guy has been fighting tooth and nail for his people for who knows how long, so hold your tongues you’re talking to a King.
And the Company is just staring at Boromir, because there’s no way they’ve somehow managed to find a human Dwalin. Not possible. But there he is, asking those Men if they’d like to have Gondor declare war on them, because that can be arranged, and oh Mahal, definitely a human Dwalin. How???
Thorin isn’t exactly sure what’s happening or why, but this Lord of Men is defending dwarven honour and there’s no way he’s ever forgetting that. Boromir doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just accidentally secured an alliance between Gondor and Erebor.