LET'S DO THIS, so I'm rewatching The Hobbit for reasons (such as the voice of Richard Armitage, GDI RICHARD), and I need someone to write a thing for me. Here, have a sentence and run with it: "An elf just called me /pretty/."
So since tumblr expanded queue from 300 to 1000(?) I went deep into my drafts and scrolled thru a lot to collect as many pretty pictures to queue as possible.
I found… prompts that I started writing, and didn’t finish—because I had no idea where to go next, or whatever. my god,, this is from @maawi1253 ‘s old blog that tumblr ate. I don’t even remember what year this ask was sent 🤦♀️
anyway: long-overdue! pls don’t ask me where this was going. I’m amazed, with how my memory is now, that I was ever able to attempt lotr fic
… this is such a stab in the dark, it’s been at least a decade and I haven’t even seen the Hobbit oh no // oh yes // oh wait I have the book
au where Bilbo also ends up in the cells because someone accidentally hit him over the head. also this is half book canon / half movie canon: in the book, the Company got lost on their way through Greenwood. hungry and with mostly knives for weapons, they came upon the Wood Elves in the midst of their feast, and thought they might approach them and beg for food. they tried to approach three times, and on the third time the Elves were annoyed enough to charm whoever had stepped forward first and take them prisoner. in the book, that unfortunate person was Thorin. this time, Thorin trips over Bilbo.
“An elf just called me pretty,” Thorin muttered in quiet shock.
“Well, you are,” someone muttered back from outside his cell in the dark. Master Baggins. It made him jerk in shock and splutter. “Sorry, sorry. Just felt appropriate.”
He felt a disconcerting mix of irritation and hilarity at that. It was funny, he had to admit, though Master Baggins had clearly spent too long a time with his nephews. How in the world was that an appropriate answer to a King? Not much of a King at the moment, he admitted wryly: exile, wanderer, now locked in one of Thranduil’s cells.
“Any idea how to get us out of here, Master Burglar?” he asked softly.
“I can’t very well walk through walls, now, can I?” the Hobbit hissed back, somewhat irritated. “I may have a thick skull and all that, yes, but next time I’ll thank you not to hit me over the head when I’m trying to help!”
Thorin cringed, feeling more than a bit guilty. He had, in their final attempt to approach the elves to beg for food, accidentally misjudged Bilbo’s position in the dark and taken the hobbit with him. “I’m sorry, Master Baggins,” he said quietly. “I’ll endeavour not to trip over you next time.”
The apology was sincerely meant, though he couldn’t quite help the teasing lilt to his last words. Then he thought better of himself and added, “Please believe me, it was completely unintended.”
A soft huff was the only answer he got for his efforts. He supposed maybe Bilbo had settled in to sleep after all – not that there was much else for them to do. At least they’d been fed.
But after a moment, the hobbit stirred again. “You didn’t tell the King where we were going.”
Thorin hummed noncommittally. “I said nothing that was not the truth.”
“But you believe he would try to stop you?”
Thorin shrugged, then remembered Master Baggins could not see him doing so. “I cannot say. The fewer people know of our quest, the safer we will be.”
“But of course, we’re safe as can be, here in the King’s cells,” Bilbo pointed out.
Thorin snorted. “Certainly, Master Baggins.”
“And what of the others?”
Another shrug. “I suppose they’ll end up here, sooner or later.”
Where else, after all, when they’d been starving and had few weapons among them? Hopefully sooner, as much as he hated the thought: at least in King Thranduil’s cells, they would not starve. What a way to end their quest!
“Thorin,” Bilbo spoke up again a moment later, an odd edge to his voice that immediately had the King eyeing the wall between them with apprehension.
“Have you considered, well, actually telling them why we passed through Greenwood?” The hobbit barreled on, probably hoping to get as much of a justification out as he could before Thorin might cut him off: “It’s just that, well, Greenwood is a neighbouring kingdom, right? And an ally, potentially, to Erebor? I mean wouldn’t it be more pragmatic, you know, to –”
“Master Baggins,” Thorin interrupted him – gently.
“Master Baggins, there is a great deal of our people’s history you do not know. There is a longstanding disagreement between the Elves of Greenwood and the Dwarves of Erebor.”
“Yes, well, how longstanding?”
Thorin stopped short. “I don’t – know. That is a question for Balin, if anyone remembers still.”
“Then why hold on to it?”
Thorin smiled thinly. “Because you can be sure King Thranduil remembers, though I’d rather not ask him. When the dragon came to lay waste to Erebor, you can be sure the elves were not there to help us when we asked.”
If he thought that was the end of it, Thorin was sadly mistaken.
*interestingly, also in book canon, the conflict between Greenwood Elves and Dwarves has absolutely nothing to do with Thorin’s line, either.
