#avelinas

does some of the fandom even live? i mean, I think Richard’s everything slayed me few years ago in North & South. My blog is run by ghost-me, so…

not really sure, tbh. there are myths and legends about these things, but who knows if they actually exists.

lol, who doesn’t? :D

*whispers* and we’re all grateful for them, they’re so beautiful :)

"Your stance is sloppy - you’re constantly off balance, you have no control over your limbs whatsoever, and you’re only going to hurt your back if you keep rotating your elbows like this. Would you just - we’re getting nowhere if you won’t let me guide you.”

"You’re the one who suggested this… what did you call it? Necessary practice?" Bilbo huffs, wiping damp curls from his forehead with the back of his hand, "I admire the sentiment, but - hey!”

"No sentiment behind this, believe me," Thorin utters, ignoring the halfling’s squirming as he guides his shoulders into position, "I won’t have you slow us down. You need to be able to fend for yourself."

"I’ve been doing just fine so far, thank you very much - oh would you stop manhandling me?" Bilbo groans, wriggling out of Thorin’s grip, however gentle it might be, and all but glowering at him. Thorin sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Courage isn’t all there is to fighting, you know. Aimlessly flinging yourself against impossible odds will only get you killed-"

"Well, the last time I flung myself against impossible odds, it helped us both survive, if you recall.”

"Yes, and while that was admirable-"

"Admirable? Admirable is what I’m getting? Is that some dwarven version of many thanks for saving my hide?”

"You’re impossible!" Thorin cries, but against all odds, he doesn’t feel angry - simply… annoyed. Yes, well, that is his default setting when it comes to the infuriating burglar, is it not? Annoyed, and the tiniest bit… amused? As if they have the time for that.

"That’s rich, coming from you," Bilbo retorts, but there’s no venom in it, "come on then, teach me how to fight, so that I don’t embarrass you in all those great battles we’ve surely yet to fight."

"Irony. Very helpful. Stubborn halfling. Should have left you in the Shire, among your pastries and books and flowers. You’re too… soft around the middle. Too small to even hold a real sword properly, too…"

"Too?" Bilbo taunts him, a jolly twinkle in his eye as he weighs his letter opener of a weapon in his little round plump hands.

"Delicate," Thorin grunts, and regrets it the next second, because it prompts the halfling to burst into gleeful laughter.

“Delicate?" he all but cackles, "is that supposed to insult me? Or are you flirting with me? Is this how you dwarves go about the courting business, using thinly veiled and poorly constructed insults?"

He quips it easily enough, obviously mocking, but Thorin can’t quite conceal the flutter of something in his gut, some excitement mixed with embarrassment. He looks away momentarily.

"Don’t be ridiculous," he says curtly, "are you willing to do this or not?"