#the hobbit reader-insert

Can you feel the river run? Waves are dancing to the sun Take the tide and face the sea And find a way to follow me

The soft lilt of your voice carried through the silence of the night, your only accompaniment the gentle whisper of leaves, the barely there hum of woodland critters, and the sound of drops, rolling down your bare skin to fall to the river from whence they came. Fortunately, the wind was forgiving, tepid against your cooled skin, and the water that surrounded your body up to your waist was the perfect temperature. Refreshing but not freezing.

Leave the field and leave the fire And find the flame of your desire Set your heart on this far shore And sing your dream to me once more

Lifting your arms to bring your brush through another section of hair, you resumed your singing, eyes falling closed.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

It was an old song but pretty, one your mother had used to sing to you when you were but a wee thing. Her ethereal voice combined with the melodic yet mysterious chorus were enough to soothe you to slumber. It was a comfort, even later on in your life, when you learned of the sad story the lyrics were weaving. A woman losing her love; a heartbreaking premise if there ever was one. And yet, it was as beautiful as the full moon’s reflection on this clear night.

Now the time has come to leave Keep the flame and still believe Know that love will shine through darkness One bright star to light the wave

Scooping up some water with your free hand, you brought the liquid to your right arm, rubbing gently against your skin and removing the dirt and grime that had built up from being on the road the past few days. You switched your brush to the opposite palm, repeating the process on the opposite side. It felt so good to be clean, which was why you couldn’t resist the opportunity to break away from your company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit to come down to this river. You had known it to be here, having passed it earlier in the evening, just before Thorin had decided it was time they make camp. The lot of them had been so excited to finally sit in front of a fire and eat, but not you. Food could wait. You longed for a bath, knowing the last one you had was back in Rivendell.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

You began to braid together the locks of your damp hair, having learned your lesson about letting it fly free while you roamed about Middle Earth. As your fingers twisted in and out, you began to head back towards shore, the wind having a slight chill to it now as it hit more and more of exposed skin. You broke out in gooseflesh as your feet left the water for the fine sand that made the shore. Quickly, urged on by the sudden cold and your nakedness, you finished the large plait, securing it with a band before letting it fall limp against your back. 

Lift your voice and raise the sail Know that love will never fail Know that I will sing to you Each night as I dream of you

You waited a few minutes, using your hands to warm your shoulders as you walked over to the small towel you had laid out on a nearby rock. A tunic and trousers lay beside it, without dampness and warm and calling to you, but you took some time to dry yourself off, bending over to start with your legs before bringing the towel over your stomach and chest. Your arms were last, and the air would remove whatever wetness remained on your cheeks.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Finally dressed, you gathered your towel and brush, walking back towards the campsite, using deep dwarfish laughter as your guide. There was a slight upslope towards them with trees littering the path you made, but now that you were in a few layers and shoes, you did not mind the walk, continuing to sing softly to yourself until you came to the end of the song. 

A few moments later, you were being greeted by smiles and Bofur asking about your bath.

“It was wonderful, and definitely something I needed,” you responded as you placed your items by your pack before joining the Company around the fire. A bowl was put into your lap, filled about halfway with some stew. It was still steaming, thankfully, and you immediately began to eat, your stomach aching now with the prospect of being filled with food, and Bombur’s food to boot!

“Perhaps we should all partake in a bath before setting out in the morrow,” Bilbo nonchalantly suggested from beside you, and you hid your smile behind the rim of your bowl. He had been complaining of the stench that seemed to permeate the Company; you weren’t the only one having gone without a proper cleansing since your time with the elves.

The golden-haired dwarf was the first to respond to the hobbit’s suggestion, his eyes going wide with mock outrage. “Why, Bilbo, are you suggesting that we stink?”

“You know what, Fili, I think he is suggesting such a thing,” Kili said, lightly hitting his brother’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “The nerve. Especially when he smells just as bad.”

“Aye,” agreed his brother, leaning towards him as he eyed Bilbo with a frown. “If not worse.”

The hobbit looked absolutely livid by the two young dwarves’ banter, and the scowl on his face with his glare directed at them had the opposite effect than what had been desired. The brothers bursted out into laughter, and the rest of the group soon joined in at poor Bilbo’s expense. Even you, who normally took pity on the object of Kili’s and Fili’s wrath were not immune to the infectious hysterics. And so, the rest of the evening continued on with small talk and howling among companions; nothing of any real note happened until you were settling down for the night.

The trouble started as you were laying out your bedroll beneath a tree, close to Bilbo and Kili, who was in the midst of doing the same. Fili was taking first watch, meaning he was away from his younger brother, and therefore, not being influenced to partake in his dastardly whims. The camp was quiet because of this, several of the company’s members already burrowed beneath their blankets, soothed to sleep by the crickets and frogs, voicing their own soothing lullaby. 

But they were not the only ones singing. 

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear

It was the brunet Durin, murmuring the words to your song. 

Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

And there was only one possible way he could have heard it, as you had never, ever sung in the presence of any of the men you were currently traveling with. You couldn’t. Not knowingly. You had an awful case of nerves whenever asked to perform in front of others, so to have learned the lyrics to that song…

“Kili!” his name was a horrified gasp from your lips, and he froze in his work, his back still to you. He had gone silent, the rest of the words dying in his throat when he realized he had been caught.

You stepped over your bedroll before taking another long stride to find yourself leaning down into the young Dwarf’s face, hands on your hips. “How do you know that song?”

Kili audibly gulped, chocolate brown eyes straying from yours as he took a few moments to try and come up with some sort of an excuse, but having you this close to him, even with all your ire drifting off of your form in waves, was chasing away any coherent thought, let alone a proper explanation. And as more time passed in silence, he could feel your glare sharpening, as if getting ready to pierce right through him. His lips parted, having found his throat had gone dry, and he sucked in a bit of air to try and buy himself some more time. Of course, he had nothing to say. What could he say when it was quite obvious just where he had heard that song before?

But your patience had, apparently, run out, and more than anything, you felt the sting of betrayal. This dwarf, this wonderful goofy man-child that you had come to care for, clearly wasn’t the gentleman you had initially learned him to be. All those offerings of hands to keep you from tripping, giftings of his blanket to keep you warmer at night and all those questions regarding your well-being, where had they stemmed from? How could the same person that had been so kind and polite towards you--with the occasional, meaningless prank--peak on you while you were in the middle of a bath? You had told him where you were going because you trusted that he would keep the others from following; it most certainly had not been an invitation for a private viewing party. 

Unable to bear his presence any longer, you spun away from him, crossing the short distance to your bedroll and gathering it up in your arms along with the rest of your things. You walked around the Hobbit, who was currently feigning sleep to make it seem that he hadn’t been listening to your whole exchange with the young prince, and set yourself up so that he was your buffer. The whole while, you felt Kili’s eyes at your back, and when you went to lay down for the evening, in your periphery, you noticed that he had not moved from where you had left him, only now, he looked positively guilty, head hanging and bottom lip in an almost-pout. 

Your heart--infernal thing that it was--ached at his expression. He looked even smaller than usual--being a human, you were taller than him--but you couldn’t let that get to you. What he did was wrong. And the fact he had no explanation for his behavior confirmed the worst for you. He had really just come down to the river to get an eyeful of you; the performance was just an extra, one that had lingered in his mind. 

It stung, and you had trouble falling asleep that night, your back to both Bilbo and Kili. That next morning, it was Fili--not his brother--that had tapped your shoe with the tip of his boot, stirring you from slumber. Dazed, you lifted your head slowly, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Time to get up, Y/N. Thorin wants us to move out soon,” the blond dwarf said with a pitying smile; it was clear that he had woken you from a deep sleep.

Once he had walked off, you gave yourself a moment and a good stretch before getting to your feet and starting on packing. 

Beside you, Bilbo was just finishing up with his bedroll when he turned to you. The hobbit watched you for a few minutes, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally stepped towards you and said what was on his mind, “I, um, I know it probably isn’t any of my business, but your father did ask that I keep an eye out for you while on this journey. And I, obviously, saw what had happened between you and Kili last night. It isn’t clear to me what had transpired; all I gathered from the situation was that you weren’t happy he knew that song he had been singing. However, if you do feel like talking, know that I am more than willing to lend an ear, should you need it.”

It was a sweet sentiment, one that made you smile at him as you straightened to your full height. “Thanks, Bilbo. I appreciate you being willing to do that for me, but this is really between Kili and I.”

“Understood,” he responded with a nod, curls bouncing with the movement. “But if you change your mind, don’t be afraid to come to me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Unfortunately for Kili--and Fili, too, who had to hear his brother’s lamenting whenever the two of them were alone--your way of handling the situation was to completely avoid him. If he brought his pony up by yours, you’d urge yours to go a bit faster, moving between two company members so that the brown-haired prince had no choice but to remain behind you. If he tried to talk to you once camp was set, you’d make your way over to Bilbo or Bofur and talk to them as if Kili hadn’t just called your name. If you woke in the morning to find his blanket over you, you’d fold it up and place it by him. But what killed the young dwarf the most was the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him, and you didn’t do it with such conviction, too, as if your eyes landing upon his features would cause you to turn to stone. That was preposterous, of course, but damn it all! He missed you!

For you, there was a simple reason for gazing everywhere but at Kili’s face. If you didn’t see the puppy dog eyes, they would have no effect on you. Plain and simple. Although, after a couple days of this, you were beginning to miss him, too. This had gone on for long enough. It was childish behavior on your part--both Bilbo and Fili had said so--but they did not know what he had done! And to fix things between the two of you, a talk would have to happen, one you weren’t sure you were ready to have since it would involve bringing up the fact he had been peeping on you down at the river.

So things continued to be painful for the Company, as neither of you could find the will to broach the subject with the other, until the two of you had no choice but to have that awkward conversation. 

It wasn’t unknown to you that braids have significance, in fact that was the first conversation you ever had with Thorin upon him asking for your approval to court you- how important and vital the braid was. How each placement of the strands of hair was significant, how by tilting the braiding outward you can declare a budding love, but inward you can declare a passing of something, such as a birthright. 

‘Yet how did this happen?’ You mentally scolded yourself as you watched each passing dwarf look at you like you were a conundrum. You knew it had to have been your hair. It was Muhudtuzakhmerag, or Spring Fest, in Erebor and Thorin requested you wear a traditional ‘Queen’s Braid’ to the event to walk alongside him. 

The request itself was simple, and sweet of him, to want you to participate like the queens before you, however, there was not a single portrait of what the said braids looked like. So you simply went by your best educated guess coupled with the old instructions written on ancient parchment that looked like it was going to fall apart any moment now. 

The festival would begin with the giving of the straw. First, Thorin would place a strand of the straw into your hair, and you into his tunic pocket. This was to symbolize the true connection and reliance the dwarves had with nature. The next event was the ‘Carrying of the Straw’ where you and Thorin would lead a line of dwarves through the kingdom, assisting each other in carrying a barrow of straw to the feast room. All to honor Yavana, Mahal’s wife who originally gave the first dwarves their first straw of barley. 

To say this event was huge for the dwarves would be an understatement. And, with this knowledge, you had hoped to look your best for Thorin. 

As soon as you entered the throne room to meet with Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin before the event, you knew you messed up royally. 

“(Y/n)...” Balin began gently, before Thorin’s angry voice startled you. 

“What in Mahal have you done?” Thorin wasn’t shouting, but his fists were clenched like he was desperately trying not to. 

“I tried my best to follow the instructions, is it that awful?” You looked at Balin and Dwalin, your eyebrows furrowed and your expression hurt at Thorin’s tone of voice. “What did I do wrong?” You asked the elderly dwarf, in hopes he would be able to give you advice before Thorin began speaking again. 

“Everything.” He spat, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle as he began to pace the throne room floor. 

“Lass,” Balin began before Thorin held his hand up, “Don’t speak to her.” 

“The one time I request for you to do something specific and you can’t even get that right!” Thorin shouted, making you flinch as you stood back, your eyes beginning to fill with tears. 

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.” 

A gasp left your throat, “T-Thorin…” You felt your heart sink to your stomach. He regretted loving you, courting you, marrying you, all because of one braid? 

“I can fix it,” You offered, your tone showing how close to the verge you were to breaking into tears, wanting to appease him so he wasn’t so angry with you. 

“You can’t fix being human,” He huffed, “I knew a low human would never be able to meet the standards of being the queen of Erebor. If I could turn back time and never let you join this journey, I would---”

“Thorin, enough.” Dwalin all but growled at him. “It is just a braid, you can re-do it for her.” Dwalin tried to reason but Thorin let out a humorless chuckle. “You can re-do a braid, but you cannot redo or undo the damage that has been done. She has shown she does not care about our culture or our practices.”

Looking to Balin, you suppressed a sob as tears went down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” You told him, eyes full of regret and pain as you quickly took the pins holding the braid in place out, the metal clanging as it hit the stone floor. 

“Lassie, it’s alright,” He began to soothe you but you shook your head.

“I’m so sorry,” You repeated shaking your head, exiting the room, with your hand up to your mouth to attempt to muffle the gasps leaving your throat as you continued to suppress the sobs threatening to escape. 

“Thorin what have you done?!” Balin shouted at him as soon as you fled the room, glaring at the boy he watched grow up in these stone walls. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

“You will come to regret it. Don’t you realize you just told your wife that you despised her?” 

“I don’t have time to deal with this, we have a festival to lead.” Thorin brushed past both of them to go grab his crown for the festivities. 

As you put on a plain slip and slid into bed, you felt hot tears bubble down your face. He didn’t love you. All because you were human. Your heart ached as you heard the cheering, the Broken Bone Race being completed and the victor being given a medal, Thorin’s laugh trickling into your ears despite the many voices you have heard. That made you begin to sob as you clutched the pillow. 

“He doesn’t love me…” You murmured to yourself, wiping your tears. “He wants a dwarrowdam.” You felt your heart clench as those words passed your lips. 

Sitting up, you sniffled, wiping your eyes almost aggressively as you put on a robe. Maybe something in the library could help you with your love issues. 

Thorin couldn’t deny the worry in his heart as he searched the halls of Erebor for you a few days later. Upon returning from the festivities, Thorin wasn’t too concerned with your absence, figuring you needed time alone from the blow-up that occurred in the throne room, but when it was the third day that he hadn’t seen you at any meals, your very presence and being missing from his day to day activities such as your walks together, he knew something was wrong. 

His gut twisted as he walked down another corridor, before halting in his steps. “(Y/n)?” He breathed out, confused at the sight of you. You were dressed in the average dwarrowdam fashion, your hair up in braids like every other dwarrowdam he had come across. 

It wasn’t you. 

“Yes?” You cut straight to the point as you turned from your discussion with an advisor, and seeing Thorin’s dumbfounded expression, you excused the gentleman as you turned fully toward him. “What is it that you need, Thorin?” Your voice was cold, posture stiff as you stared him down with calculating eyes. 

It was like you were a different person altogether. 

“What happened to you?” Was all he could think to say. 

Tilting your head, you raised a brow at him. “What you wanted.” Was all you answered as you turned on your heel, leaving him in the stone hallway all alone as you went to speak with the advisor once more. 

Bursting through the doorway, Thorin’s voice caught the ears of the Company members fairly quickly. 

“There’s something wrong with (Y/n)!” He yelled out, completely unsettled by your appearance. He knew you preferred your hair loose, not confined by things, and how you liked to wear flowy dresses made by soft fabrics, not thick dresses weighed down with crystals and braided fabric tassels. 

“You finally noticed.” Dwalin scoffed, continuing to sharpen his blades, his disapproval of Thorin very clear. 

“Aye, it wasn’t like she was missing from your chambers for three whole days and four whole nights.” Balin’s tone was clearly passive aggressive as he handed out documents to each member. 

At Thorin’s lost expression, Balin chuckled bitterly. 

“You told her you didn’t love her, that you despised her because she was human and what did you expect her to do!” Balin finally lost it, throwing his papers across the room, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“She didn’t deserve that, Thorin!” Balin yelled, a tear going down his cheek. “All she wanted to do was make you happy and instead of applauding her effort and guiding her to the correct way, you belittled her! You ruined her self-esteem and told her she meant less than the dirt on your boots.”

“She didn’t deserve any of that… And now… Now you have the audacity to come in here like you did nothing wrong?” 

“I didn’t realize…” 

“You don’t seem to realize a lot of things, Thorin.” Balin huffed moving to pick up his papers as Fili, Kili, and Ori helped collect them from off the ground. 

“I have to do something.”

Bofur shook his head, “If she’d let you.” 

Thorin looked at him like he just grew two heads. 

Rolling his eyes, Bofur shook his head again. “You were an utter arse, Thorin. You expect some weepy apology is going to make her forget everything you said? How little your actions have done to prove you do indeed care for her?” 

“She’s lost weight, Thorin. She doesn’t come to meals, she hardly sleeps. And what do you notice? Oh, that she’s wearing a traditional dress.” Bofur’s sarcasm seeped through his tone. 

“Y’know, Thorin, I hope she doesn’t forgive you. I hope she doesn’t let her sorry excuse of a One back into her life.” Bofur’s words cut into Thorin, hitting him where it hurts most. And for a moment, Thorin wasn’t Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, king of Erebor. In this moment he was a young dwarrow being scolded. 

“But if you do somehow manage to weasel your way into her good graces, you better work your arse off to prove to her that you care for her.” 

“I will.” 

Bofur huffed through his nostrils as he went back to carving a wooden duck as if Thoin wasn’t even there. 

“You better go find her, then.” Dwalin nodded to Thorin, a small smile on his face was all Thorin needed to feel encouraged as he set off to go find you. 

Seeing Thorin for the first time in the past couple of days affected you more than you’d like to think, his harsh words being pulled from the back of your mind to the forefront, replaying in your head over and over. Instead of meeting with your advisor, you waited until Thorin was gone so you could go back to your room, the room you originally had before you and Thorin were wed. 

Looking into the mirror, you couldn’t help but criticize everything about yourself. Your braids weren’t as taught as how they were this morning. The gown made you look radiant this morning but now it felt like a bulky mess that you shouldn’t have attempted to wear. 

“Is it all for nothing?” You wondered as you stepped away from the vanity mirror and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“He didn’t even notice.” You scoffed, flopping backwards. 

The next morning, Thorin was adamant on approaching you. 

“Good morning, Dushin-Mizim (dark jewel).”

“Morning, King Thorin.” Your reply was short as you walked past him, your hair half braided today, and in a less formal traditional dwarvish gown. 

Thorin frowned, usually you’d kiss his cheek and say “Good morning, my love,” to him before he’d hold your hand and the two of you would walk together. Not that he blamed you for not doing so.

Instead of eating with him, you sat at the other end of the table, alone as you carefully ate your breakfast. 

Sighing, Thorin brought the water glass up to his lips. ‘I deserve this,’ he thought as he watched the way the sunlight filtered through the sky-lights, making a rim of light circle the top of your hair, making you look angelic. An ache began to settle in his chest, he missed you. 

He’s got to come up with a plan. 

“How was your day, Ghivashel (Treasure of all treasures)?” Thorin attempted to make conversation as you approached after exiting a meeting.

“Perfectly fine, King Thorin.” You responded icily as you walked past him, your face stoic until you moved where he couldn’t see your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you bit your lip. ‘Does he love me still?’ you pondered, but that thought was quickly squashed when you realized he began to act lovingly again once you were in dwarvish attire. ‘He loves the facade.’ you decided as you walked to your room. 

Looking in the mirror, you shook your head. “This isn’t me.” You murmured to yourself, while you had nothing against dwarrowdams, you knew this style of dress, this hairdo, it wasn’t yours. It didn’t suit you. You felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, an imitator waiting to be revealed. 

Unravelling your hair, you sighed as your scalp was relieved of the taught pressure. Reaching behind you to unravel the laces of your bodice, you let out a relieved groan as you pulled the thick fabric off of you in favor of pulling on a light night gown. 

Returning to the mirror you brushed your hair, refreshed to see it how it usually is. Free and relaxed. 

“I’m done pretending... “ You told yourself, nodding to your reflection. “I am (Y/n), a human.. Not a Dwarrowdam.” You felt tears build in your eyes, “and if Thorin wants one so bad, then so be it, but I will not erase myself for his pleasure.”

The next morning you felt alive again, as if someone had cleaned out the cobwebs of your chimney and lit the fire once more. Putting on a loose gown, you only brushed your hair, carefully placing oils where they were needed before looking in the mirror. You finally looked like yourself again. 

“Good morning, amrâlimê (My love).” Thorin called out to you as you exited your bedding chambers, making you pause in your stride.

“Good morning, King Thorin.” You responded blandly, watching as he analyzed you, your expression cool but your heart hammering inside of your chest. Would he say anything? Would he stop calling you the names you cherish close to your heart?

“You look radiant,” He smiled at you, before letting it drop, his expression turning serious. “I would like to have a talk with you, today, whenever you have time, of course.” He looked nervous as he spoke, something you hadn’t seen since the day he asked to put in your courting braid. 

“I’ll be free this evening,” You told him, curious as to what he needed to tell you. 

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he nodded, like he was having an inner conversation before looking into your eyes. 

“Would you… Do me the honor of meeting me in the gardens this evening?” Thorin held his hands behind his back, nervously rubbing his thumb over the other one, just waiting for you to say no.  After all, he had to earn your trust again, to earn your love again. 

You paused, a ‘no’ quick to push itself to the tip of your tongue, but as you watched his eyes dart around your face, his eyebrow scrunched like how it always does when he’s worried, you felt your face soften. 

“I shall.” You chose to say instead, a smile threatening to lift your cheeks as he perked up like a puppy, a spark returning to his eye. 

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” He vowed, hesitating, like he was ready to give you a kiss before physically holding himself back. 

Coughing nervously, he nodded, “I will see you then.” 

You couldn’t deny the disappointment that bubbled in your chest as he walked away, you had hoped he would offer to walk you to breakfast. 

“Well with how you’re acting, don’t be surprised if he thinks you hate him now.” Your inner voice taunted but you shook your head, you had every right to be upset with him. 

The day seemed to drag on and on, and as you dragged your feet to the dining hall after your final meeting,  you remembered Thorin had wanted to see you. 

“The gardens,” You hummed to yourself as you headed that way, seeing petals of (favorite flower) being littered on the ground. Raising a brow, you followed them, a small smile growing on your face as you approached the entrance to the gardens. 

Thorin stood staring at the stars, his back turned and between you and him sat a table. Two plates, two chairs, two water glasses. 

“So your discussion was a date?” Your voice pulled Thorin from his thoughts, his head quickly swinging to face you. 

“Not exactly, no.” Thorin spoke quickly, as if your words scalded him like a hot pan. 

“If you do not wish to stay for the meal then I will not ask you to.” He began, gesturing to the seat. “But I will ask if you’d like to take a seat so you can be comfortable while we talk?”

Biting your lip, you let out a breath before chucking off your heels, your feet sinking into the cool grass as you approached the table. 

Thorin sighed in relief, believing you were going to turn your back and leave the minute he opened his mouth. 

“What is it you wished to talk about?” You questioned, your voice professional as you took a look around the gardens. Lanterns were placed all around the garden, giving the space an ethereal glow and if you listened hard enough you’d hear the gentle noises of the creek. 

“I would like to apologise.” Thorin stated, and the statement alone nearly made you choke on your saliva. Thorin? Apologizing? 

“I… I have no reason, excuse or otherwise to explain to you why I spoke the way I did.” He furrowed his brows. “I am a horrible excuse for a husband, a failure of a One, and a failure as your friend.” Thorin spoke, his voice close to cracking before he cleared his throat. 

You frowned, not expecting this at all, especially the glassy look in his eyes. 

“I wanted to let you know I did not mean a thing I said.”

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.”  His words replayed in your head, your lip beginning to tremble. 

“Meeting you was the biggest blessing Mahal has ever given me, being able to love you and to cherish you was a gift I threw away,” Thorin’s voice finally cracked, as he let out a shaky sigh. 

“Menu tessu (You mean everything to me) and I was a fool to tell you otherwise.” He shook his head, angry at himself. 

“I love you, (Y/n), I love the way you take the blankets from me when we’re sleeping, I love the way your eyes sparkle when you’re happy, I love the way you care so much for people you love…” Thorin halted himself, looking up to the sky briefly before looking back to you. 

“But despite all of that, I have wronged you, I have wronged you and belittled you,” He frowned at the sight of your tears building in your eyes. 

“And I understand if you would like to leave.”

“Leave?” You couldn’t help but echo, causing him to nod. 

“After all I have done, I cannot expect you to want to stay with me, Men Kurdel (My heart of hearts). I made you feel inadequate, when I should be the one making you feel like a goddess. I failed you.” Tears slipped down Thorin’s cheeks. 

“That is what I wanted to discuss with you, a way to make your life easier, a way to just---” He sighed, “If there is one thing I want, (Y/n), it is to make you happy.” 

“And you think that’s away from you?” You cut him off, furrowing your brows as a tear slipped out, rolling down your face and dripping off your chin.

“I have spent days trying to make myself more like a dwarrowdam because you hate how human I am, because I want---” Your own sob cut you off, your breath hitching as you began to cry harder.

“Because I wanted you to love me again.” Your voice cracked as you barely got out the words, and at the same time, Thorin’s heart felt like it cracked in half as he watched you emotionally collapse in front of him. 

Thorin nearly leapt from his chair, moving to cradle you in his arms, yet unsure as he hovered his form close to yours. 

“Please, love me again,” You whimpered as Thorin pulled you into his arms, tucking your head into his neck as you sobbed. 

“I never stopped loving you, (Y/n),” He murmured into your ear, his arms tightening their hold on you as if this was all a dream. “I am so sorry,” Thorin wept as you clutched onto him just as tight. 

You missed him so much. 

“I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you,” He vowed, pulling away so he could look at you, tears springing to his eyes again at the look of anguish on your face. 

“Just please, come back to me, come back to our chambers, let me hold you, at least for just this night?” Thorin’s tone was on the edge of begging as he cradled your face in his palm, his forehead against yours.

Not being able to find the words, you nodded. And at that moment, he pulled you off the chair entirely, your form clinging to his as he brought you back to your shared chambers. 

Setting you down on the bed, Thorin pulled away to go to your wardrobe. 

“What’re you doing?” You tearfully asked, a whimper wanting to pull itself from your mouth at the lack of contact.

“Your nightgown--” 

“Thorin, please hold me.” His priority was your comfortableness while yours was to be as close as possible to him. Quickly shutting the wardrobe doors, Thorin returned to the bed, barely able to kneel on it before you latched yourself onto him again. 

Hugging him close, you could feel his heartbeat through his tunic. A sigh of relief left you before you looked up to him, seeing him already watching you with admiration and fear. Fear of you changing your mind and walking out of his life for good. 

“Kiss me, please?” You asked tilting your head back to make it easier for him to attach his lips to yours. Thorin’s expression softened as he captured your lips with his own. A needy whimper left your lips as you clutched his tunic in your hands, his own cupping your face as he kissed you deeply. 

Pulling away, Thorin pecked your lips one last time before pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Thorin, I need you.” You murmured, you had been deprived of his touch, of his love, for so long now. 

“I’m yours, I’m here,” He responded to you, not quite understanding your meaning, simply thinking you needed reassurance until you repeated yourself.

“I need you, Thorin.” 

His expression changed from one of concern to something sensual as he dragged his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but question, not wanting you to regret being with him when you were so emotionally fragile. 

“Absolutely.” You reassured, this time capturing his lips with yours, catching him off guard before he quickly fell into the rhythm you were searching for. 

Lowering you gently on your back, you felt the familiar pillows beneath you as you arched into him, your hips rolling into his causing a pleased groan to release from his lips, his hands finding your butt as he controlled your movement against his clothed crotch. 

“More, Thorin, please,” Your tone was leaning on the side of begging as he severed the kiss to pepper kisses along your jaw and neck. 

“I’ll give you all you want, amrâlimê,” He reassured, lifting off of you to help you with your dress, the offending fabric being tossed to the floor before he yanked off his tunic, leaving him bare chested with you in your undergarments. 

“Beautiful,” Thorin murmured, admiring the way your body was laid beneath him.

Smiling at him, you couldn’t help but admire him as well, the small scars from battles that have come and gone, the chest hair mostly covering him, the muscles beneath it. 

You were brought out of your admiring state as he began to remove your undergarments, leaving you bare with him still in his pants. 

“You’re very overdressed,” You hummed as he chuckled, the sound going straight to your core as he leaned back over you to kiss at your shoulders and the valley of your breasts. 

“Don’t worry about me, amrâlimê, focus on you.” He spoke softly as he kissed his way down your stomach, his hands coming up to tease your nipples for a moment, drawing a gasp from you. It served as a distraction as he skipped over your pussy to mouth at your thighs. 

“Thorin,” You couldn’t help but groan out as he purposefully neglected where you wanted him most. 

“Please,” You whined until you felt his breath over your pussy. 

“I said to focus on you, (Y/n),” He hummed, now massaging your inner thighs with his calloused hands. Before you could think of a response, his tongue stole the words out of your mouth as it came in contact with you. Licking, flicking, sucking, you couldn’t focus on what he was doing as the pleasure made you reach out and grab at his hair. 

Thorin swore he would make it up to you, and he planned to start right now through worshipping your body, making you feel every ounce of pleasure he could provide you. 

Looping his arms under your thighs, he held his hands above your hips, locking you in place as he feasted on you. 

“Thorin!” You couldn’t help but moan out, your tone high pitched as you felt yourself climbing higher and higher to your peak. Whether you called his name out of lust or trying to give warning, Thorin wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing for certain: you were close. 

He flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly, circling it before suckling the bundle of nerves into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he aggressively accelerated you to your climax. 

Your back arched as your grip on his hair tightened, your mouth opening in a silent moan as your hips wiggled up and down, his own grip loosening as he let you ride out your orgasm. Releasing your clit from his mouth, he kissed your inner thigh as you slowly calmed down. 

“Men lananubukhs (I love you),” Thorin whispered as he rested his head on your opposite thigh, rubbing circles on your hips. 

“What about you?” You questioned once you got your bearings again. 

Thorin shook his head, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up to pull you into his embrace. “All I care about is that you are satisfied, my beloved.” He nuzzled the top of your head, feeling a sense of pride as your thighs continued to tremble from the intensity of your orgasm. 

“I told you before, all I want is to make you happy.” 

It felt like flowers were blooming in your ribcage, something soft and delicate taking place in your heart as you curled into Thorin’s embrace, his arm around the small of your waist bringing a sense of comfort. 

While nothing could erase the past, nor the heart that came with it, you’ve decided that for now, you would enjoy the peace that resonated in your heart. 

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