Forest Gold
Forest Gold is a story prompted by @tacosockos's ask. Thank you very much! 💙💙💙 I hope you'll like the story as much as I did when I was writing it!
Relationships: Thorin x Reader
Rating: T
Warnings: none
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Forest Gold
The warm sun shone through the canopy of tall pine trees, its rays illuminating the path before you. It was a summer morning, just after dawn, and you were walking through the forest at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Looking around, you admired its natural ancient beauty, the softness of the moss beneath your feet, and enjoyed every breath of the cool, fresh air. Since you arrived in Middle Earth on a stormy night several months ago in mysterious circumstances, you still marveled at how unspoiled the nature in Rhovanion was. No pollution, no empty beer cans in the forests, no cigarette butts, no engine noises. Instead, there were crystal-clear rivers and lakes, plenty of animals everywhere you looked and the lush greenery. Never before have you seen so many shades of green. The newly sprouted blades of grass, the majestic ferns by a creek in the backwoods or the reeds growing by the Long Lake near the city of Esgaroth that was being slowly rebuilt.
Your path led you to a bank of a forest stream. You smiled widely, seeing a glimpse of gold among the grass. There they were! You looked around. Yes, this was a perfect spot for what you had in mind. You rested your travelling gear against the trunk of a nearby tree and approached the patch of wildflowers growing in the watery ground at the edge of the stream, their yellow, almost golden petals seemingly shining with the light of their own. The people of Dale called them “kingcups” and used this plant for medicinal purposes. That is why you came here, at least partially. You promised a local healer to bring her some of these plants. But you had also another idea on your mind.
It took you a while to gather enough flowers to fill your basket. Your boots were a bit soaked, but it was worth it. Your eyes quickly found a patch of grass and your hands started picking out the flower heads and arranging them in a spiral shape on the ground. This was something you used to do with your grandmother in her garden. She’d often say these flower mandalas would draw fairies to them, and if you ever were to meet one, this magical creature would fulfill your wish. You have grown out from believing in fairies years ago, but your habit stayed with you, fueling your creativity. Back home, you’d sometimes make a picture of the finished mandala and upload it to your Instagram, sharing your art with the wide world. You didn’t need much to create art. Nature provided everything you needed.
Humming a half-forgotten song from your childhood as you finished arranging the flowers, you suddenly heard a sound of a snapping branch. Someone was coming. As quickly as you could, you gathered your things and hid in the nearby bushes. The local people warned you against strangers in these parts. After the great Battle of Five Armies that happened over a year ago, a constant stream of travelers flowed into Rhovanion. Those newcomers were searching for better life, but there were brigands among them, too.
Someone entered the clearing in a few long strides. He wasn’t tall, but his posture emanated power and strength. Dark, wavy mane of hair cascaded down his wide shoulders. His bearded face was focused on the surroundings. Judging from the clothes and the bow he held in his hands, he had to be a hunter. And… a dwarf. This was the first dwarf you saw from such a close distance. You heard much about these proud people and their great kingdom of Erebor that was currently being rebuilt, but you had never even talked with one before.
The dwarven hunter took a few steps towards your hideout. A pair of deep-set eyes scanned the area. You held your breath and crouched lower among the bushes, hoping that he wouldn’t notice you. As he turned to his left, his gaze fell on your golden flower mandala. After approaching it, he studied it carefully and then took one of the flowers, bringing it to his nose. As he did so, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You blinked in disbelief. Weren’t the dwarves supposed to be underground folk, loving only stone, metals and precious gems? The last thing you expected today was to see a dwarf enjoying the smell of a delicate forest flower. A flower you arranged yourself.
“Hey! Leave my flowers alone!” you heard your own voice.
In a blink of an eye, he turned to you, his bow aimed at you. Or rather, at your hideout. You muttered a curse. Brilliant, just brilliant.
“Reveal yourself!” You heard his deep voice. So that was how a dwarf sounded like. You had to admit to yourself that hearing him speak made you think of molten dark chocolate, rich and full-flavoured.
You decided not to make a move. The last thing you wanted to do was to be shot by his arrow. It looked kinda… sharp. And something told you that this hunter had a good aim. A sigh escaped your lips. You just had to stay still. Maybe he’d leave you in peace. Maybe. Yeah, right.
“I mean you no harm. You can come out now. I have already put my bow away,” his words reached you. The way he spoke made you think of a horse whisperer trying to calm down a startled steed.
Feeling the taste of defeat in your mouth, you reluctantly came out from your hideout.
“I thought you were a bandit, Master Dwarf,” you admitted. Now, when you had the chance to take a better look at him, you could clearly see that he didn’t look like a brigand at all. His weapons and clothes were of good quality, and he wore several rings on his strong hands. Those rings definitely weren’t trinkets bought at a village fair. The dwarf looked more like a proud, ancient warrior than anything else.
“There are no bandits in the forests of the Lonely Mountain, my lady,” he shook his head. You heard the jingling of the silver beads in his hair, sunrays dancing among them. A peculiar thought appeared in your mind. What would be like to run your hand through this rich mane of hair? It looked so soft… Would he let you make a braid? Just like the ones that hung from his temples, falling all the way to his chest. You felt your cheeks burning up. What on earth made you think of such things about an unknown dwarf you’ve just met?
“I’m not a lady,” you stated. You've never been called a lady before, and especially not by a courteous dwarf.
“Who are you then?” his brilliant blue eyes set on your face. “A forest fairy protecting her magic circle?”
The dwarf pointed at your flower mandala.
You chuckled, “There’s nothing magical about my flower art. It’s meant to be looked at and enjoyed.”
“Are you sure?” he tilted his head and took a step towards you. Your eyes moved upwards, sliding along the intricate embroideries on his tunic hugging against the deep contours of his chest. The garment revealed a small patch of tanned skin at his throat, emphasizing his muscular neck. His strongly defined jaw was covered with a lush beard that hid a surprisingly soft line of his lips. The patrician nose set above it made you think of the gigantic dwarven sculptures that guarded the entrance to the kingdom of Erebor. And then there were his eyes, those twin mysterious cerulean pools that kept on searching your face. “There is an old legend among my people about the forests of the Lonely Mountain. They say that you can sometimes find a flower fairy ring here. If the time is right, its magic will take you wherever your heart longs to go.”
“It is a beautiful legend, but that’s all there is to it. An old tale,” you replied. Even a baby knew that there was no such thing as magic. And no, the way you arrived to this new, wonderous world had nothing to do with magic whatsoever. You were sure that science could explain it well. Perhaps a lightning struck too close to you that night, and there was a shift in the magnetic fields, and this was simply a parallel universe or…
A chuckle brought you back to reality.
“As you wish, my lady. Forgive me my manners, this unexpected meeting made me forget them completely,” he made a courteous bow. “My name is Thorin. May I ask how I should address you?”
You gulped. Your name was too unusual and too modern for this place. If the dwarf heard it, it would happen just like it did in Esgaroth and several other places. The locals weren’t fond of weird strangers. There would be strange looks, prying questions and tons of suspicion. Somehow, you didn’t want the majestic dwarf in front of you to look at you the way they did. You had to think of something.
“My name… Wait, did you say Thorin? As in Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain?!” even you, a newcomer to Middle Earth, heard about the dwarven king who led a bold charge against the Orc and Warg armies and defeated them, taking the life of their leader, Azog.
“These are just titles. Here, today, in the forest, I’m just Thorin, my lady without a name,” he smiled, but you could see a shadow passing his eyes, fleeting and deep.
Your mind barely registered his gaze, busy processing the current situation. You, a girl from far, far away, were standing in the presence of a real king! And a dwarf! What were you supposed to do? Bow? Curtsy? Call him “your majesty”? Or was it “your highness”? No, he said he was “just Thorin”. Pheew. But were you allowed to sit down in his presence? Or speak without being asked to? Oh, wait, he asked you a question and you haven’t answered it yet!
“I come from a faraway land. My name may sound alien to you and… and difficult to pronounce!” you blurted out.
“Would you allow me to call you Kingcup, my lady? Like these golden flowers?” his eyes traveled to the mandala you created on the ground.
“Kingcup…” you whispered to yourself, looking at the flower petals glistening in the sun.
“These flowers… We call them ‘forest gold’. Small and delicate, but sturdy. They run through the woods like veins of gold through the stone. And their reflections in water make forest streams look like molten gold,” his voice washed over you like smoothest silk.
“I think I can live with a name like that,” you smiled shyly at him.
“You do me a great honor, lady Kingcup,” his voice deepened, rumbling in his chest.
“I told you, king Thorin, I’m not a lady.”
“If you are not a lady then I am not a king,” he stated, responding to your smile with an amused glint in his eye.
“Sounds fair to me… Thorin,” you whispered his name, barely able to look into his eyes, hoping he would not mind your casual way of speaking to the king of the famous dwarven kingdom. He nodded in return.
“Since we are properly introduced now, may I invite you for breakfast? I must admit I haven’t eaten today yet and my friend Bombur, a brilliant cook, prepared some delicious scones with cheese for the road. I will gladly share them with you.”
The thought of a meal made your stomach rumble and you agreed almost instantly. The breakfast turned into a brunch when you discovered that you both were well equipped with delicious food. While you ate, you talked about everything and nothing; you were curious about Erebor, and Thorin asked about your recent travels through Rhovanion. You even shared a few amusing anecdotes from your lives and you quickly forgot you were spending time in the company of a king. To be honest, it felt as if you’d known each other for ages, sharing several interests, including the love of nature, both above and below ground.
“So you say that the dwarves think gold is the most precious metal?” you swallowed the last bite of smoked cheese.
“A metal worthy of kings,” Thorin nodded, taking a sip from his water bag.
“What about forest gold?” you gestured towards the flowers in your basket, the ones that you gathered in the morning.
“It is the most precious part of the forest… Kingcup…” his glittering blue eyes traveled to your face and you had to look away. Did he mean the flowers.... Or…?
“Close your eyes, please,” you said suddenly, a new and crazy idea popping in your head.
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you close your eyes, I’ll show you the treasure of the forest,” you grinned mischievously. “It will just take a moment. Please?”
Apparently Thorin couldn’t say no to the pleading look on your face and capitulated. You reached towards the basket and soon your hands were working swiftly, binding the flowers together.
“Can I look now?” he asked, his back resting against the tree behind him.
“Patience,” you giggled. Your new “work of art” was ready. You moved towards Thorin and placed the golden flower crown on his temple. Your hand brushed against his hair. It was pleasantly soft under your touch. As you took a breath, a smell of pine needles, bonfire smoke and leather surrounded you. You expected a mighty king to smell like precious oils and heavy, exotic flower essences. Instead, his scent was simple, raw, and manly, and quickly went to your head. Looking at his calm features, all the worries gone from his handsome face, you almost missed the moment when he opened his eyes. You were kneeling next to him, your hands resting at his temples along with the flower crown. His face was surprisingly close to yours. You felt the warmth of his body and could almost brush your nose against his. Uh-oh. You swallowed. He blinked.
“What do we have here?” he cast a half-lidded glance at you and moved his hands to his head.
“Something worthy of a king. The golden crown of the forest,” you chuckled, recalling your idea, and desperately trying to forget the way his skin brushed against yours as he reached for the flower crown, and the pleasant sensation you felt. “No, no, don’t take it off! Come with me!”
You got up and quickly marched to the edge of the stream. Thorin joined you after a few moments.
“You are not going to drown me, are you?” he raised one of his dark eyebrows suspiciously, a smile dancing on his lips. It suited him well.
“It depends on how you are going to react to my gift!” you giggled. “Now, look into the water and tell me what you think!”
“It is truly a golden crown,” the dwarven king stared into his reflection in the stream and chuckled. “Who would have thought that the forest was full of such riches? I thank you kindly for this generous gift, Kingcup.”
“You like it? What a relief! I don’t have to drown you, then. All is well!” you grinned and then both of you burst out in laughter. Somehow, it felt good laughing beside him. It felt right.
“And to think such a treasure came from under your skilled fingers! I have been lucky to have met you here today. You are magical indeed, just like your fairy ring,” he winked at you, looking more like a playful young dwarf than a king.
“I tell you, this is just a flower arrangement, not a magical place!” you protested.
“There is only one way to find out, isn’t there?” he smirked and reached out his hand to you.
“Very well,” you agreed with a sigh and placed your hand in his. He squeezed it gently but reassuringly, smiling at you, as you both stepped inside your golden flower mandala.
There was a splash of emotion in his eyes when he said, “Let us see where your magic takes us.”
You barely managed to close your eyes when a warm breath of wind caressed your face and suddenly you felt dizzy. A sensation of falling flooded your senses. A few heartbeats later everything stopped. In the surrounding silence, you could only hear your and Thorin quickened breaths. You still felt how warm his skin was, his fingers wrapped around your palms.
“Is it done?” you asked, not daring to open your eyes yet.
“It is. Your magic is truly astonishing,” Thorin replied, and you recognized notes of admiration in his voice.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his face. He was smiling, and there was something new in his expression; something that you couldn’t decipher.
And then you looked around.
“But we’re still in the same place!” you exclaimed. “It was just as I told you, there is no magic here.”
“Ah but there is. Your magic,” he looked at you expectantly, his features softening.
“My… magic?” you frowned. What did he mean by that? And why did he close the distance between you? Oh, and why did he raise your hand to his lips, kissing it reverently? By the way, his lips turned out to be even softer than you imagined, and even warmer, almost scorching.
“Your magic worked perfectly well,” he murmured huskily, his breath fanning the delicate skin on the back of your hand. “It brought me to the place my heart longed to be, sweet Kingcup.”
“And where is that?” you whispered back, trying to find the answer in the bottomless depths of his cerulean eyes. And then you heard his voice.
“By the side of my forest queen.”
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