Imagine Thorin Choosing To Court You
For My Followers
Nerves are bubbling in your stomach as your mother braids daintily crafted metal flowers into your hair. She made the metal and gemstone flowers for you, for your coming of age ceremony. Your father and her are the kings best blacksmiths because they can craft in such detail.
“Are you ready for your party (Y/N)?” your mother inquires as she finishes your hair. You’re finally ready we’ll psychically.
A long red dress with a golden belt cling to your form and your hair is in piles of fanciful raids. You couldn’t be more with pretty.
“I believe,” you reply and gulp. At the coming of age part for dwarves they choose a craft to pursue, suitors come forward to request courting, and man gifts are given. You are most nervous about the courting part.
“My sweet daughter all will be well. You do not have to accept any requests of courtship if you do not desire to,” your mother assures and kisses your forehead.
You’re concerned no one will request to court you. You’re rather unattractive in dwarvish terms and you haven’t many friends. The only close friend you have is Bilbo Baggins a dear friend of the kings. The kings nephews are very kind to you and the king is also polite when he sees you.
“Thank you mother,” you murmur and stand up. “Now it is time for us to get going. I would not want to be late for my own party.”
Your celebration goes smoothly through you choosing your craft and opening your gifts.
The courting part came up too suddenly for you.
“If any suitors wish to come forward and offer their hand to this dwarrowdam you are invited to do so now,” you father declares through gritted teeth.
From your read felt seat in the center of the large party hall you see no one stir.
And just like that all your greatest fears are realized. Now one wants to court you.
Trying to hold back tears you flash a false smile to the crowd and fluff your skirts.
“As I thought, shall we presume the festivities?” you suggest only barely managing to keep the waver from your voice.
“Wait,” a deep voice rumbles and your heart skips a beat.
Looking up you watch the crowd part and King Thorin stroll through to stand before you.
Whispers pick up in the crowd and you flush bright red.
“King Thorin? You’ve come to my celebration? I’m honored,” you say and move to stand so you can curtsy.
“Stay seated (Y/N),” he guides and you go till. “I have come to ask if I may court you.” Thorin kneels down and presents a bejeweled jewelry box to you. With shaky hands and a horde of butterflies in your stomach you reach out to it. Opening it up you find a golden tiara with shimmering gemstones encrusted in it.
“I shattered the Arkenstone to forge a crown for when you become queen of you accept my request,” he explains and the crowd gasps.
You gape at him in utter shock. You had no idea this was coming.
“I accept,” you say barely above a whisper. He doesn’t hear you so you inhale deeply. “I accept.” The grin that spreads across his face makes your stomach roll in happiness.
“Bless you (Y/N),” he breathes and embraces you. The crowd claps and cheers while your parents weep tears of joy.
“You were always so polite I just thought..” you trail off unable to think clearly.
“(Y/N) you possess a heart unlike any other and a true beauty that rivals that of the Arkenstone. Every time we met you made me feel truly young and joyful again. I’ve known from the start that you are my one,” he confesses and you can help but grin wildly.
“I’ve always wished for you to court me and now it’s real. I’m just so happy,” you admit and stand on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek.
“And I as well.”
Thorin and you court for a year before getting impatient and deciding to wed.
The crown fits you perfectly and you’re now known to be the heart of the king under the mountain.