RavenThrush

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 Special shouout to @sunnyrosewritesstuff and @raventhrush for inspiring me with their own adorable depiction of child Thorin! Not related at all, just absolutely overwhelmed by how cute your work was and thought i'd practice writing something myself! Hope this brings you both some joy <3 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

With his hands braced on his lower back, Bilbo stood and stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh along with the popping of his spine. The hours he spent rifling through and organizing he and Thorin's things reminding him that he was not getting any younger.

Early spring had brought to him what it did to all hobbits; the irresistible urge to clean smial from top to bottom, spend as much time in the sun as the receding chill would allow, and, where applicable, spend the rest of the time in bed with their partner, sowing love, and, at times, faunts. Only this was not a smial, but the very large living quarters of a very large mountain, the air here bit far more harshly than it did back west, and his king-husband was a very, very busy dwarf. All of that combined with the fact that this was Bilbo's first spring away from the Shire left him with an extra bit of nervous energy that he just couldn't seem to shake off.

When there was nothing to clean, and no jobs available--or even possible for a hobbit--to take on, Bilbo found himself wandering just outside the mountain, on the lookout for the flowers his new family had promised were soon to arrive. He could swear he felt them, just as the dwarves could feel the stone, coming to life just under his soles, but yet to peek through the dirt. Every day that passed without a sign of them, however, Bilbo's anxious energy only grew. He couldn't help it. He missed the blooms of the Shire fiercely. Everything seemed to come in so late here, and the winter had already been so dreadfully long, and he was a hobbit, blast it all! He was over all of this frigid cold!

And so Bilbo had taken all of his frustrations and had redecorated he and Thorin's chambers.

Twice.

"Right then," Bilbo sighed, looking around. "What's next?"

After concluding that the parlor was the next sensible option, he made to leave, but not before remembering to grab the thick tapestry depicting the line of Durin that lay draped over Thorin's writing desk. He understood wanting to keep the momento close, but Bilbo swiftly determined that the bedchamber was not the place for it. The eyes of his husband's ancestors should be spared from some things, after all.

But as Bilbo gathered the hefty fabric in his arms, something shifted, and what appeared to be a piece of paper poked out from within it. Upon further inspection, he realized the back of the tapestry hid a woven pocket, and within that, a folded paper. Bilbo did not think twice before setting the unruly thing back down, and gently removing the yellowed note.

Or, what he had assumed was a note. Unfolding it revealed not words, however, but a scene, drawn with such fine detail that Bilbo could not help but let out a small gasp.

There, in black and white, was undeniably Thorin. Only, not as he'd ever seen him. He was standing on a stool that was leaning treacherously forward, and had his entire arm in a jar bigger than himself. He stared back at Bilbo with wide, guilty eyes, his round, youthful face covered with… something Bilbo was uncertain of, and, aside from the beginnings of thick sideburns, there was not a lick of hair on his chin.

Just below the teetering stool was khuzdul, written in a graceful hand. He determined it was a date, but then there were four words after which he could not make out.

A warm, adoring smile grew over Bilbo's face, just as his ears twitched, and the sound of a door opening gave way to heavy footsteps.

"Givah?"

"In here, love!"

Thorin came. His brow was creased and low from the stress of the day, but his eyes shone with love upon his hobbit.

"You have been nearly as busy as me, it seems." he said, glancing over the space with a knowing eye. He moved to Bilbo and planted a chaste kiss upon his lips. "What have you there?"

Bilbo hummed in pleasure at the simple touch, before turning his attention back to the portrait.

"Would you be able to translate something for me?"

When he handed over the drawing, Thorins eyes slowly widened in recognition. His calloused fingers ran gently over the faded script.

"This…was my grandmother's work." One corner of his mouth pulled upward. "She was an artist. Sharpest memory of anyone I have ever known. She could capture a moment in her mind and remind you of it later. Like this."

The paper crinkled in his hold, and he stared for another few heartbeats before handing it back to Bilbo.

"It says, 'My little butter thief, searching for a remedy'."

Bilbo's heart warmed all the more.

"A remedy?" he asked. Thorin sighed, eyes flitting to the side in a rare show of sheepishness.

"I was. Anxious to have a beard. And the butter was of goat's milk."

Bilbo blinked. When he didn't say anything more, Thorin sighed.

"Goats…have beards."

Another beat passed, before Bilbo threw his hand over his mouth, trying to keep in his laughter.

"Oh, oh I see. Yes." he coughed to mask a snort. Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Very sensib--very sensible conclusion."

And now he was laughing.

"I was eleven!" Thorin defended with mock indignation. "And the other pebbles had more beard than I had. I was desperate."

Bilbo laughed, and didn't stop until Thorin was smothering him into his chest. And then he laughed some more.

"Oh, my poor dear," he said at last, face pink with mirth. "You must have been so disappointed." His hands ran through Thorin's beard, thick and lovely, and getting longer by the day.

"I will have you know," said Thorin, now mocking Bilbo's lilt. "That the very next week I had a new hair on my chin. I was convinced it was affective."

As they laughed together, Bilbo thought of spring, and the mountain, and slow growing flowers, and he knew that some things were simply worth the hassles of long winter's and goat's butter.

This is Marlok - a hot pirate mysterious OC from the awesome fic A Fierce and Jealous Love written by @sunnyrosewritesstuff & illustrated by @raventhrush and he's been living rent free in my head for the past few days 😭

A Fierce and Jealous Love

A Fierce and Jealous Love

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Status: In-progress (1/9)

Collab with @raventhrush

For @fantasyinallforms (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies | Alternate Universe - Bilbo Baggins Remains in Erebor | The Lonely Mountain | Mutual Pining | Jealousy | courting gifts | Miscommunication | Dwarf Culture & Customs | Oblivious Bilbo Baggins | Dwarf Pirates

Summary: Thorin has been struggling between rebuilding the home he fought so hard to reclaim and dealing with the hardships the war had wrought upon him physically and mentally. However, he is sure about one thing: his desire to court the hobbit of his heart. Of course, nothing can ever be simple for the newly established dwarf king as an old friend from the past returns, and while Thorin wants to help him, watching Marlok grow closer to Bilbo threatens to sour any rekindling of their friendship.

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New Chapter: Chapter 1- A Fierce Ship Arrives

“Thorin!” Dwalin’s voice called out.

Thorin spun around, his brows raised when he caught sight of the grimness of Dwalin’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” Thorin demanded.

“There’s a dwarven warship in Dale’s harbor.”

Thorin’s foot gave a twinge, causing him to falter for a step before he was able to right himself. This would not be like last time, he would be better, he would be wiser. He maintained a facade of calm as he motioned for Dwalin to follow him, trying and failing to keep from limping as they headed down to their own docks. Thorin had thought it was a possibility. The gold of Erebor too tempting to some of the other clans that had scorned Thorin for his quest in the first place, and while they were vastly improved defensively since the battle, he wouldn’t say they could hold off an invasion.

“Did you see a flag?”

“Aye, they fly two. One declaring themselves independent of any kingdom, and the other declaring they come with peaceful intentions.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed together. That didn’t make any sense. The flag of independence was seen as the pirate’s flag. Used for cutthroats and plunderers who had been exiled from any and all corners of the world where a dwarf would normally be welcomed. And if it were a warship, Thorin would think it would be Stiffbeard pirates. Why would they come to Erebor though? Especially under the guise of peaceful intentions? They couldn’t possibly think Thorin was stupid enough to trust them and let them in anyways.

“We will welcome them into Erebor’s docks, but with a host of eighty at the ready. I don’t want to take any chances. Find Fili and have him send a raven both to Bard and Kili who should still be in the Greenwoods. Tell them to be ready for Erebor’s signal should the worst happen.”

Dwalin nodded, walking off to carry out Thorin’s orders. Thorin made a beeline to his rooms. He always took to carrying Orcrist out of habit anyways, but he thought he should at least put on some armor just in case. He had just stepped inside when he froze, a horrible realization hitting him. The warship was in Dale where Bilbo had gone to do his shopping. What were the chances the hobbit would stay far away from it?

None. There was a zero chance trouble would not find him.