#beorn

Balin

After weeks of traveling with such a massive group of dwarves who were far too comfortable with each other, your sensibilities were finally able to drop. The comfort and satisfaction of walking around in one’s underthings was strangely unmatched, battles and hard sleeps and pony rides of tension beginning their slow drain from every side of your strained body. A smile of amusement crossed your lips as you searched through the assortment of bottles resting atop the carven, pure-white vanity. Painted or did elves have white wood? “By my beard! What are you doing?” Snapping your gaze from some sort of pleasant-smelling pink tincture revealed to you the sight of Balin, his back to you and his long deep red coat dropping from his shoulder. Shuffling closer and still backwards, the older dwarf extended a hand, coat dangling from it. “I do believe you’ll be needing this.” Chuckling at his dry words and sweet gesture, you slid his coat on. “You can turn around now. Thank you, Balin. What do you mean what am I doing? Lord Elrond said we could bathe and all I meant was to do just that.” “Next time, my friend, you may like to try locking the door unless you want to stop an old dwarf’s heart.”

Dwalin

“When I get my hands on that…” A deep frown creased Dwalin’s tattooed forehead as he stood in the doorway half-turned away from you. He’d swiveled right as those stony blue eyes of his had caught side of you bent over, only the fabric of your undergarments as distance between him and the unthinkable. “Dwalin, forgive me,” you urged, stepping back behind the screen from whence your new clothes had fallen, “But I swear I did not know!” “Not you,” the dwarf shook his head, gaze upon the floor still hardened, “Kili. Little prince thinks he’s a hoot sending me here. Not right, that is. Not right at all to make a joke of you like that.” “A- a joke?” Maybe you weren’t the most confident in the world, but joke? That was a sting a blade could never inflict. “Your safety is no joke and neither are you. I shouldn’t be here. Not like this.” At that addition, Dwalin shook his head, sparing one final glance with a very different darkness about his eyes, one that warmed you to your core. Never had you realized how seriously he took you until that very moment, you realized with a faint involuntary smile.

Thorin

Divine comedy was the only phrase echoing in your mind at the timing; your robe hit the ground in exact synchronicity with the opening of the door. The heavy thing had flung open to reveal none other than the King himself, heavily clad as always in fur linings and armored garments. One heavy intake of breath was all you managed as you stood still as a statue, watching Thorin as if from outside your stiff, almost entirely naked form. His eyes widened, his breath seemed to visibly hitch, and his brow creased in great focus. Heat crept beneath your cheeks as you caught this, but in a moment it was cut by a sharp gasp. Thorin’s head swung violently away from your form and back to the wall, his head lowering in what seemed to be shame. “Forgive me. I did not mean for this to happen,” he apologized, one hand tightening into a fist. “You? I will never forgive myself unless I ask: did you… like what you saw?” “Like what I…” The king’s voice was so sudden, eyes such intense blue flames upon you as you bent over, gingerly plucking up your robe, that you thought him angry until he spoke again. “Why do you hesitate so? What is this disbelief I hear? Forgive me once more, but only a fool would not have liked what they saw.”

Oin

“Oi! Dwalin! I brought that salve.” “Do I look like Dwalin to you?” You teased, venturing popping out your head and one bare shoulder. “Not a mite!” Oin shouted, pointing and laughing heartily. “Now off with you,” you shooed, draping your arm around the door and waving a hand at your company medic. “Nothing I haven’t seen before!” Oin simply shot back with more laughs. Warmth rose beneath the curves of your face. “Well, I suppose…” “For my job, ya wee pest,” he teased, still smiling widely and joyfully, taking his turn to wave a dismissive hand, “but don’t you worry none. Yours would be a much nicer sight than all o’ that!”

Gloin

“Oh, I— Oh!” Gloin’s expression opened from mild shock to a jaw fully dropped. You stood before him fully in your undergarments, a sight you’d hardly offered up to any of Thorin’s company. “Sorry,” you squeaked, “I hadn’t the foggiest anyone would be—” “Sorry?” Gloin cut you off, rounded mouth of shock sharpening into a smile you could almost describe as dreamy. “Never should such a sight as yourself need to apologize. Would the sun apologize for shining so bright?” “I…” This time, your tight stance relaxed and your words faded away. “Do you really…?” “Of course. I mean it all. Farewell.” A final smile and glance down and Gloin was off from your sight, but certainly not your memory.

Bifur

A string of Khuzdul phrases alerted you to the presence, dropping you to your knees in a panic. Folding and peering over the bed, your fingers clutched at the edge of your sheets as your eyes met Bifur. His thick, ragged brows twitched up and down teasingly as he muttered more words that made you grateful they were foreign. Cheeks reddening, you reached down, taking up a sock and hefting it at the doorway with your full might. “Get out!” You shouted, though your rage was quelled by uncontrollable laughs that blended with Bifur’s as he put his hands up in surrender and turned tail.

Bofur

“Whoa there, don’t let the wind catch ya!” Shock bubbled forth from your springing system as all but a scream. After all, you had not exactly expected to face anybody with your bare hindquarters that evening. Your half-hunched leap probably made you look like a startled cat and also faced you with your unwitting intruder, he who had been on the receiving end of…well, your end. “I hadn’t intended to!” You snapped, only half aware your guest was Bofur. “Easy there,” Bofur’s gloved hands waved for mercy, your name escaping his lips as jovially as usual, “I’ll happily turn back ‘round. They said the first room on the left was open. All I wanted was a little place of my own, honest.” Had it been another member of the company you may have doubted it, but from Bofur? You believed him. Sighing, you nodded. “I’m sure you did, Bofur. Next time, though? I suggest you try your other left.” “I don’t know, though,” he teased, quickly disappearing out your door with a wink, “Right’s quite the sight!” He was gone before you could cover up again or even hardly process his words.

Bombur

Button after button surrendered to your will, finally giving way for your drapery to fall at your feet. You cared not, a smile crossing your face as cool air struck your skin. A bath. More than anything were you anticipating sinking into the warm water, layers of your travels sinking just as your first layer had. Shirt removed, you next unfastened the thick leather of your belt, relief from the weight of your weapon shuddering through you again. “Incredible.” Spirits as high as yours had you simply smiling and nodding in agreement. You had even hummed pleasantly before you started clambering for your shirt. Your eyes left your scrabbling fingers and marble countertops to see Bombur’s stout figure, which had already turned round the other way. “I-I’m sorry. All I needed was Bofur’s belt, he left it here after the fire last night! I hadn’t known I would see such…” He faltered, soft-spoken nature seemingly increasing by the minute. “Something so…” “Incredible?” You repeated, your own voice barely audible. From Bombur’s profile you caught a faint bob up and down. A nod. Flushing, you crossed the room to give him an affectionate stroke on the cheek. “I will fetch your brother’s belt. Is there anything else you want while you’re here?”

Dori

The bathwater was the perfect temperature. Sighing contentedly, you ran your hand through it, pleasant moisture lapping your palm. You’d already gotten down to your underclothes before realizing you left your sword in the other room, and you were not bathing without that right by your side. Not after so many things had just chased you, picked you up and threatened to eat you, shot at you, and worse, the way they leered. Emerging from one doorway of your temporary chambers revealed quite the surprise, however. Starting, you called out Dori’s name before anything but his presence registered. Namely the fact that he was making like you just had and stripping down to his skivvies. Head snapping up, Dori gave a yelp of his own, not even managing to enunciate your name before he hit the deck, diving down to the floor. “Is this your room?” He half-inquired, half-bemoaned. “I thought so,” you quipped, “Now I’m not quite so sure.” The sight of the classy dwarf splayed out upon his belly on the floor had you in chuckles you couldn’t hide. “Get up, it’s alright. Clearly someone here is confused. But I will say this tub the elves have is quite too large for one person. Care to join me?” Dori’s head finally popped up, all wide blue eyes and round red cheeks. “Join you?” “We’ll keep on what we’ve got and have a soak. What do you say?” “I,” Dori stammered, “I say yes, thank you. But please let me wash your hair to make up for this all.” “You have a deal, Dori.”

Nori

The conniving dwarf before you didn't even skip a beat. "Ah. Well hello there," he commented at the sight of you unbuttoning your tunic, fingers reaching up to rapidly tear at his own fastens and eyebrows twitching high, then low in rapid succession. "Ack! What are you talking about?" By contrast, you exclaimed in surprise and tugged your tunic back on backwards, the back open and facing back away from Nori. "Don't stop for my sake! No need to be shy now." "Shy? I wasn't exactly expecting company," you shot back, glancing back and forth between the floor and the dwarf's disrobing, his upper layer almost completely stripped off. "Well, you know what they say," Nori commented with a wink, "Everything is better with company."

Ori

You had, perhaps unfortunately, chosen to don your clean garments facing the doorway, meaning Ori caught you head-on. And much more on. You stood there helplessly in naught but your undergarments as he squeaked and clapped mittened hands over his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, though your name came out like a hastily added whisper, “I didn’t mean to, honest I didn’t! I- I…” Ori trailed off and despite the flame of embarrassment raging beneath the apples of your cheeks, you stood stock-still, paused in anticipation of his next words. “I’ve never… seen anyone like this before,” he completed his sentence sheepishly, peeping between his fingers just enough so you could see his eyes meet yours. And only your eyes. “Well,” you chuckled nervously, eyes never leaving his as you reached behind your back for the nearest piece of fabric to cover your chest, “I do apologize your first one had to be me.” “Don’t,” Ori stammered, “I am glad it was you. That is, I mean, not to say that I thought about it—” “It’s alright, Ori.” He audibly exhaled, deflating in clear relief and making his way out of your room as if finally remembering why he’d first gone there. “Maybe you will now.” “What?” He spun around on his fur-lined-booted heels. “Nothing,” you replied with a faint smile.

Fili

“Mahal…” Many of your company members, you suspected, would have addressed your present situation in some rowdy way. Louder, at least, but as you turned, tugging the robe the elves had left for you around your chest, you felt a faint shiver of anticipation at the whisper. Awestruck, almost reverent, was the single word, as though the sight of you completed the prayer. Your eyes met Fili’s with a shaky smile. What did you say? What could you say? “My apologies. I thought this room was free.” “I’m sorry,” Fili immediately rotated away from you, arms folded and all but clutching each other across his chest, “I should have left. But you… You…” He was frozen there, boots all but nailed to Rivendell’s pure stone. “You were a thing more beautiful than I could imagine.”

Kili

"Brother, where did you leave my— Ah." Striding confidently through your door was none other than prince under the mountain Kili, black hair streaming as he swung his head your way. A deeply familiar smirk split the prince's facial symmetry as his dark gaze crawled up your form. "You aren't Fili." "No, I am not!" You countered, pulling your luxurious loaned robe tighter over your shoulders. “But while I’m here, I might as well join you,” Kili shot back, smiling expectantly up at you and fiddling with the hem of his trousers, “Return your favor a little. ‘Tis only polite.”

Bilbo

Stepping around the wonderfully painted screen the elves of Rivendell had so graciously provided you, you hummed faintly, reaching for the belt they had left you. When your eyes slid along your shelf of discarded and new clothing alike, however, they traveled to a further and much stranger sight. There you stood, upper layer half-on and half-off, fabric tumbling off your shoulders by the moment, meeting suddenly the eyes of a shirtless Bilbo Baggins. A shirtless Bilbo Baggins who gave an instant single cry of shock and desperately began clawing at the bed for his discarded, tattered garb. “Bilbo, what are you—” The hobbit pointed your name right back at you. “What are you…?” “Changing, clearly! I’m just wondering why the servants would have placed us both here,” you replied, waving an indignant arm and somehow forgetting to dodge back behind the screen. Your eyes also seemed to forget how to behave for a moment, as did Bilbo’s. The hobbit suddenly looked quite red. “Drat!” He said. “I should have known.” “Should have known what?” “Not to listen to Kili for what room to go to. He must’ve thought I would like to see…” Your eyebrows shot up, but you said nothing. “Well, I would! I mean, no I would not, but there’s nothing wrong with… seeing… um…” “I understand, Bilbo, and if I may be so bold I thank you. Worry not, though, I’ll go back behind the screen and we can pretend we’re talking to the walls.” “Yes, I…I would quite like that.”

Thranduil

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” A deep voice purred from behind your back. Your bare back. Barely stifling a yelp, you dodged behind the shockingly elegant screen that had wrest your attention the moment you entered the room you’d been sent to. Your head tenderly emerged to the sight of none other than the king himself. Thranduil stood in the middle of your changing room, long robes flowing at his back and one single brow arched. Faint amusement curled upon his lips as he awaited your answer. Had his remark been sarcastic? Difficult to assess when you had seen firsthand the dark clouds of disdain that obscured his sky-blue gaze. No such storm seemed to rage, but his words… Words. You found yours, lowering what could be seen of your head in deference. “My apologies, My Lord. I was allowed to change. They sent me to this room.” “I hardly imagine they did,” Thranduil contradicted, smile growing slowly, “For these are my quarters.” All the heat sapped from your face instantly, your jaw falling. “But they—” “Made a mistake, it seems,” Thranduil finished for you, his smile reaching such a peak as to make you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web, “Now the question remains…who do I punish for this? I daresay the choice is yours.”

Feren

You’d only removed your outer armor plating when a sound ripped you from your concentration. Your back had been to the doorway; turning around, you saw a body tumble back as if shot, clattering spectacularly against the door. Tossing aside your breastplate, you crossed the room to see… “Feren?” Shooting up just as fast, Feren rose to his feet, expression blank as if you’d stumbled upon him birdwatching. “Ah, yes, I believed this room to be empty. I see I am mistaken.” The Silvan guard made to practically scurry away, but you caught him by the shoulder. “I was only taking my armor off,” you told him with a catlike grin, “No need to be so afraid of me. If anything I am even more vulnerable now.” To punctuate your sentence, you undid one button of your tunic, then another. “Afraid?” Feren repeated, swallowing and meeting your eyes. “You are mistaken. I feared only that you would fear for your safety. But here you are practically inviting me! Why, had I been an assassin you would be long dead.” “Oh, yes?” You goaded, fingers toying with the edges of your blade. “Yes,” Feren agreed, “Indeed.” You took another step forward, grinning again at the way he reddened and stepped back. “I rather think we are both vulnerable,” you teased.

Bard

A shadow loomed at your back. Tightening your fingers around your robe, you whirled to face it, aware exactly where you’d set your weapon and hand flexing at the ready. The sight you were met with, though, was simply Bard, who backed away the moment recognition flashed in his eyes. “Oh,” you sighed in relief, tension instantly melting from your body, “‘tis only you, Bard.” “Only me?” He questioned, posture rotating to the side and glance shifting gingerly sidelong. “I mean that positively,” you reassured, waving the hand that wasn’t holding your robe closed, “Of all that lot out there, you are the one I trust most.” Bard’s dark eyes shone, a soft smile rising along his profile. “That means a lot,” he said, bowing his head briefly, “truly. I take my leave.” Barely a step sounded outside the door; a smile crossed your own lips next at the realization that Bard was standing right outside your door, eyes on the remaining company. Another rush of relaxation coursed over you as you dropped your robe with new ease.

Beorn

Warm fabric melted off your back, a rush of air striking your newly exposed shoulders. The tunic you'd been wearing had seen far better days and frankly far too many of them. Your own muscles felt quite the same dirt and fatigue, weariness taking you as you stood in place. The click at your back barely registered, the voice you heard finally snapping you around. "Ah! My apologies, I did not know, I..." Never had you seen a man so large look so small as did Beorn in your doorway as you turned, tugging your nearly-discarded garb hastily back about your shoulders and feeling it tumble back down over your collarbones. His normally ironclad posture was even a bit hunched, which brought a soft chuckle to your lips knowing it belonged to a man who never wore a shirt of any kind. "You are quite forgiven," you replied, giving a teasing smile and watching his reaction as you let the fabric fall just the smallest bit more.

​1. nolofinwëan kids (sorry argon)

2. & 3. scatha the worm & beorn

4. young celegorm and aredhel