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My dear Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Your part in the story will go on.
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ohtinuviel:
My dear Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Your part in the story will go on.

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{ guess who’s back, bitches. }
behold the noble line of durin .. . such fine royalty … outstanding leaders .. .. . skilled warriors …
Who is this person you’ve pledged yourself to? Thorin Oakenshield?
❛ Quite. ❜ Bilbo quips, or he would have if he’d caught the phrase. Hobbits love best their green gardens, their pastries and pipeweed. He really can’t see the need for such an authority figure as Thorin, seemingly, must. Why, before he’d left, the idea seemed far-fetched indeed — as much a part of Gandalf’s old stories as the heroes within them.
He ponders this, turning inward as he begins to idly kick a stone. From what he’s heard of Thorin, it seems unlikely that he’ll really understand the sentiments he carries for his father. It’s a difficult, difficult thing ( at least to him, it is ), but the king did ask, so he plows on. ❛ You might say yes, and you might say no. It really depends on your perspective. But it’s true that I did admire my father for a while. I stopped, though. I had to. ❜
Thorin may be able to relate to Bilbo on some level. Naturally, his father was always an authority figure to him, not only as his parent but also his king. It was a matter of duty as well as kinship. That came to an abrupt end, however, when he disappeared. So he could understand the loss, even if their contexts were different. It wasn't a matter of choice for Thorin to stop admiring his father: he simply had nothing to admire anymore but a memory.
“ Why did you stop? ” he asked simply. He recognised that his attentiveness may seem odd compared to his previously dismissive attitude, but he was genuinely curious about Bilbo after developing a new-found respect for him.

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♜:Shoulder rubs { hello dear! }
{ Hello there! \o/ }
Even the most endurable of dwarfs grow weary after a laborious day, and Thorin was no exception. Working for man was no more satisfying than it was easy. Nevertheless, he had to do what he could to get by, much like most of his people had to these days.
The dwarf sighed, sitting down to finish the day with plenty of ale and warm food. Absent-mindedly he stretched the aching joints and muscles of his arm, rolling his shoulders some. He wasn't expecting company, nor did he particularly want it, so he couldn't help but act in the defense when he felt the hands upon his shoulders. He stiffened and turned around."Who--"
Listen to this, whenever you’re sad or mad, down or unhappy, and tell me it doesn’t put a smile on your face.
Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to...
♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes
♕: Holding hands
♖: Having their hair washed by your muse
♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.
♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort
♙: Sharing a bed
♚: Head scratches
♛: Sharing a dessert
♜: Shoulder rubs
♝: Reading a book together
♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)
♟: Patching up a wound
♤: Taking a bath together
♧: Your muse playing with their hair
♡: Accidentally falling asleep together
♢: Forehead or cheek kisses
♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.
♣: Back scratches
♥: Your muse crying about something
♦: Slow dancing
After Bilbo sails into the West, he finds one last, unexpected greeting.
{idea by sopettyandtiny}

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Richard Armitage: He knows how dangerous the journey is going to be. So it’s very difficult for him to kick back and have a laugh, but we did try to make him smile occasionally.
❛ Mm, we really don’t, though. Have — have a leader, that is. We used to answer to a king; I don’t remember how long ago now. A Man. But now we’ve got the Thain, and he’s just a figurehead, really. There’s not much need for politics in the Shire. ❜
A roll of his shoulders, a bounce to his step — Bilbo wears a jaded little smile. He could’ve been Thain, give or take a cousin or five, but he hardly wanted the title. Being a Baggins was diffcult enough. It was, in fact, that which prompted a bout of low laughter. Thorin doesn’t know how alike he and his father truly are ( used to be ), doesn’t know how the Shire will often refer to him as the “second edition” of Bungo Baggins.
❛ Hmm, well. I very much doubt that, now. There’ll hardly be a soul in the Shire that would listen to me, with the ruckus I’ve caused. ❜
A brief expression crossed Thorin's face where his eyes seemed to soften. It was hard to tell what that meant, exactly, but he didn't break his careful gaze on Bilbo.
“ Simple-living, ” he repeated, more to himself than anything. He shook his head a little, and looked like he may smile again. “ Hobbits are curious folk. As an individual, though, is there no one in your life that you admire? That you look up to? ”
dorks in love ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ
"It hurts..."
Never did Thorin think that he'd go out of his way to help save an elf, of all people. In the midst of the fray, however, your mind plays less with its ties of loyalty and more with the preservation of life in general.
“ Stay still. Don't move. ” Thorin's tone was firm as he briefly fumbled to rip off a strip of cloth from his shirt. He wrapped it tightly around her thigh wound to delay the excessive bleeding. Once it was secure, he made a quick survey to make sure they were alone from enemies once more. When he was certain he could only hear the sound of the wilderness around them, he moved to pick her up to quickly carry her to better aid.

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Hurt/wounded sentence starters
"Listen.. listen t'me... I'm so proud of you..."
"The world's not as bad as you think it is."
"Call it a metalcut. Like a papercut, but bigger and more lethal."
"It hurts."
"Call an ambulance!"
"Help me."
"Are you all right?"
"No, stay with me. Stay awake."
"Wake up!"
"We need to get out of here."
"Forget it."
"I can patch you up. You'll be fine."
"Stop complaining!"
"Who did this to you?"
"What are you doing in a hospital-- why are you bleeding?"
"It's just a flesh wound."
"What do you mean, you're okay?"
"Put it down."
"How did this one happen, exactly?"
"If you didn't want her to slap you, you shouldn't've been an idiot."
"Are you serious right now?"
"Do you remember me?"
"Do I know you?"
"How are you feeling?"
"Don't speak. Just.. look at me."
"Keep your eyes open."
"Look at me."
"It's allowed to hurt."
"I can't do this!"
"Just let it happen."
"I don't care. If it will save you, I'll do it."
"I'd do ANYTHING to keep you alive so don't for a second tell me to not worry."
"You're meant to be stronger than this."
"Pull something out that will fix this. You always have something."
"I'm not actually a doctor."
"IS THERE A DOCTOR ON THE TRAIN?"
"Stop moving."
"Shut up for once, would you?"
*He disappears for a short while, but being a recently former tour guide, he’s still got enough connections with the Hidden Worlds to get a copy of the map easily, and returns with it.*
Ah, see it says over twenty types of dwarves. As well as gnomes and elves and other hidden people. We don’t consider them to live in quite the same world as ours, but they overlap, so sometimes they can be sensed and we quite definitely influence each other’s lives.
Over twenty? This was curious news. Thorin was no less interested to hear of the other folk who dwelled in this world, either.
He inspected the map, his attention undivided.
“ This is very interesting, ” he murmured. “ These dwarfs-- are they much like me? ” A relevant question, he thought, considering this was a completely different world to his own. He was still in awe of it. No doubt the dwarfs would be different, too.