I Am An Error

I will do my best to keep up to date with this and keep things labeled properly for everyone. Please enjoy and feel free to request anything <3 Error 

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^^^ = Trigger warnings 

*** = Smut 

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Moon Knight: 

Betrayal of Anubis:

   As Anubis’ avatar, you were quite happy. But things go wrong, people get hurt, and there’s really nothing to be done. Then Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Layla El-Faouly show up, and maybe there's a chance after all. 

Part 1 

Part 2 

Batman: 

The Sketch Artist 

    Working for the GCPD is tough, but living in Gotham is tougher. When a young sketch artist is attacked in the subway, the terror of Gotham comes to the rescue, and this artist finally gets inspired. And, the young billionaire gets up the nerves to go in for a statement. 

Crime Fighter

      As a vigilante, you will never have a sense of normal. You will always be running to the next crime scene, fighting for your life, and trying to fix everything that went wrong. But with the Batman, is it so bad to desperately want a little bit of normal. 

Part 1 

Part 2 ***

Part 3 

Thorin:

Witch Queen: 

    Witches and kings, dragons and gold, hobbits and strange rings that turn you invisible. Some things are just meant to be together. 

Witch Queen Masterlist

Headcannon 1 - Healer

    Requested -- Being a healer, Gandalf’s apprentice, and falling in love with Thorin <3 

Thorin x Witch!Reader

So…. How’s everyone been?….

It’s been a while, I’m really sorry, this has just kind of been sitting in my files for a while and I’ve been busy with work so I never actually took 5 minutes to sit down and edit it…. I’m a mess, I’m sorry.

This is a bit of a filler chapter, nothing too fancy, just some exposition and some character lore expansion. I’m probably gonna skip through some bits just so this doesn’t take nearly as long as it feels like it will, I have an ending in mind that I’m so excited for, and I have quite a bit I want to explore once they get to the mountain, which means alllllll this? Needs to hurry up. So next chapter will be picking up with the party meeting Beorn, during movie #2! Please enjoy :) - Error

Warnings: literally none…. Like absolutely none. Maybe just a warning that it’s a quick read.

When Lord Elrond entered the room, everyone went silent. Hostile tension was actively building between Gandalf and Thorin, but I paid no mind to it. Instead, I chose to walk the edge of the room, admiring the artifacts that Elrond had collected within what looked to be this tiny study.

One side of the room was lined with artifacts and stuffed book shelves, the other looking over the valley. Pillars littered the room, drapes hanging like liquid light from the ones that circled the center of the room. A stunning tree-like pattern extended from the pillars as they reached up to the ceiling. It reminded me of my study back in the palace in the Greenwood. There are no lamps to illuminate the room, only the moonlight that poured in through the open wall.

“Erebor… what is your interest in this map?” While the question was directed at Thorin and Gandalf, he was looking at me, his eyes burning into my back. Gandalf answered before anyone else could.

“It’s mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read ancient Dwarvish, do you not?” Eldon’s doesn’t answer, instead approaching me at the edge, holding the map in the moonlight. A quiet sound of delighted surprise made my eyes turn.

“Cirth ithil.”

“Moon runes, of course!” I looked over as Gandalf turned to Bilbo, “An easy thing to miss.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, in this case, that is true. Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon... ...of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.” That would be more difficult that what was once anticipated. The chances of us having missed the deadline were not in our favor.

“Can you read them?” Elrond nodded, masking his enthusiasm and leading us down into the depths of Rivendale, far below the grand staircases and gorgeous stone, to a cliff shrouded by waterfalls. A singular stand made of what appeared to be glass stood at the very edge.

“These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly 200 years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell.” Thorin gave Gandalf a sideways glance. Gandalf gave him a smug look in return. “Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight.” There is no way in Valar… The moon shown from behind the clouds and lit the stone in a glowing light. Elrond placed the map on the stone and we watched as glittering silvered runes appeared. " ‘Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole’ ."

“Durin's Day?”

“It is the start of the Dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn, and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together.” Gandalf clarified. Thorin turned and stood in front of Balin and I.

“This is ill news. Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us.” He whispered between us.

“We only have a couple of months, Thorin.” I couldn’t shake the impression that no matter how fast we traveled we’d never make it in time.

“We still have time.” Balin seemed hopeful but in the back of my mind I had too many doubts. It was a big stretch, to somehow make it there on time with everything standing between us and the mountain.

“Time? For what?” Bilbo broke our concentration.

“To find the entrance. We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.”

“So this is your purpose, to enter the mountain?” We all turned to Elrond who was still holding the map.

“What of it?”

“There are some who would not deem it wise.” Thorin took the map from Elrond’s outstretched hand.

“What do you mean?”

“You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth.” With that ominous comment pointed at Gandalf, we all left the cave’s cliff, Balin, Thorin, and Bilbo heading back to the shared room while Gandalf walked off somewhere else. Before I could leave, Elrond stopped me.

“As I’m sure you know, there is another here. She wishes to speak with you.” My chest filled with anxious excitement. I made my way carefully up the stone steps, winding along beautifully carved pillars and free-flowing waterfalls that grew taller and taller the farther up the estate I went.

I heard her voice first, the most elegant and surreal sound to ever grace the ears of a living creature. Then, as I reared the corner, the hem of her silver-blue dress came into view, the swirling patterns tracing delicate waves of faux starlight as she walked. Finally, my eyes settled on the back of her frame, large waves of star-yellow hair rolling down her back, a silver crown of finely woven silver strands resting on her head. Anyone in middle earth who had the privilege and honor to look upon her agreed she was the most beautiful creature to exist since days of old.

I had known the Lady Galadriel for as long as I had known Elrond, and when I could not have my mother with me, Galadriel was there in her stead. There was nothing I couldn’t tell her, and there was nothing I wanted to keep from her… well, maybe not nothing now.

“Hén?” She asked quietly over her shoulder, still staring out into the valley. To the great Lady of Light, I would always be hén, child, in her eyes. “Anglânenc gil, dandolnc an medui na.” My ears flushed hot with embarrassment. ‘Our brightest star, come back to us at last’.

“My Lady, you are as beautiful as ever. I am honored with your presence.” I gave a low curtsey, trying hard not to let myself get carried away with my thoughts. Galadriel had a nasty habit of always knowing what everyone was thinking. I made my way over to where she stood at the edge of the balcony, leaning on my hips to look over the edge. The Lady Galadriel was always a fixed point in my life, fixed and yet… vacant. When I was able to see her I told her everything, she was one of the few people on Middle Earth who could understand how I felt about things.

“Tell me, how has your journey been with the Dwarven Prince?” my ears lost none of their heat.

“It has been well, as well a journey clear across Middle Earth can be, and while we have had no shortages of peril, there has been some good to come out of it, here and there.” She hummed, satisfied with my answer. But as she turned away, her lilting voice whispered clear in my mind.

“Beware, child, many dangers linger inside of that mountain. Not all are of fire and smoke. Be careful you are not coveted by the son of Durin.” It sent shivers down my arms and spine.

“Of course, My Lady.” Was the only thought I could respond with. With that she turned back to me and smiled warmly.

“I’m afraid you’re tired, Hén, go get some rest, I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” She gestured for the doorway and I curtsied again before taking my silent leave. As much as I wished to speak with her more privately, to tell her everything that has happened, to disclose every secret… now wasn’t the time. As I passes the doorway, I also passed Gandalf and Elrond. I hurried down the steps, slipping between pillars and hopping through secret shortcuts to hasten my way to the company. As I did, I ran face first into Thorin. His arms wrapped around my frame, steadying me before I fell back to the floor.

“My Lady! We're leaving!”

~~

@mrsdurin @capricorn-anon @emmapotato88 @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy @eilin-brillewin @hpthalia126 @undecided-about-everything-ever @dark-chxos @artemis-the-ace @floatingintheshire

Here is everything on the Witch Queen, mini synopsis and warnings are at the beginning of each chapter.

Ao3 Link:

Thorin x Witch!Reader

HAHAHAH I LIVE I'm so sorry its been so long, it was not my intention to let this rot in my drafts like I did. I spent an ungodly amount of time researching MORE about the swords, Khuzdul, and Quenya. I never thought I'd be conjugating a fake dwarven/ elvish language and yet, here we are. I also added in some non-cannon plot/lore, it will be important... eventually. Some of it is book accurate, but if it has to do with Witches, its just me.

Also, i was casually doing a chapter layout and this could be really, really, really long. For that reason I'll be tidying up the Masterlist and making the Witch Queen its own link to a separate listing for chapters, and I'm considering making it available on Ao3 for convenience. Let me know it if this would be easier, I'm thinking it would be. Chapters would be released simultaneously for consistency.

THIS IS FOR MATURE AUDIENCES, IF YOU ARE A MINOR THIS IS NOT FOR YOU, THIS IS 18+ UNDERSTAND ME????

WARNINGS: Lore, sad shit, non-cannon backgrounds, non-cannon lore, I'm trying to make these to as healthy of a relationship as possible but I don't have a good personal databank, SEX, mild smut, cunnilingus, Thorin knows how to use his mouth, these two are gonna get in trouble I swear, he's royalty, like, c'mon. All translations follow in italics unless translated by a character.

It never struck me that dwarves were picky eaters, but as I watched almost every single one of them pick and prod their meals, I almost laughed. They stabbed at the green leaves like they’d never seen them before. They were asking for meat and chips; I couldn’t help but huff a laugh. A large, callused hand placed itself on top of my thigh and I turned to my right, quickly tuning in to the conversation between Thorin, Gandalf, and Lord Elrond. 

“This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, one of a set…. It’s sister?” He narrowed his eyes at Thorin, but not in suspicion. 

“In possession of the Lady (Name).” Elrond looked from Thorin to me, a smirk rising to his lips, ill-hidden mischief in his eyes. 

“Tambë, sí násë ana anwaldë?” So, now he is giving you gifts? My face flushed a bright red. In almost every courting custom in Middle Earth, giving gifts was an important part of the courting process. Why do I get the feeling like I’m a child bringing my partner home to meet my father for the first time? Gandalf went pink in the face and started laughing quietly, his shoulders shaking a little. 

“Ála cartyalië, Hér Elrond! San mana cé cilnyë essë?” Don't make fun, Lord Elrond! So what if I choose him?

“Atarlda-” Your Father-

“Essë laië atarnya.” He is not my father. I cut him off, the mention of Thranduil nearly ruining my mood. Elrond went quiet and I saw in his eyes that he recognized this and decided to move on. 

“The two are very famous blades. Forged by the high Elves of the west. My kin. May they serve you both well.” He hands the blade back to Thorin who, while still very confused by the quick conversation between Elrond and I, took it with a grateful nod. He then took the broadsword from Gandalf. “And this is Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, sword of the king of Gondolin. These were all made for the goblin wars of the first age. How did you come by these?” 

“We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs.”

“And what were you doing on the Great East Road?” No one spoke up, and I realized at that moment that he had already caught on. Thorin stood, excusing himself from the table, and I followed, no longer hungry. We walked for some time, until we found a small chamber open to the evening air, tall pillars letting the sunset dance at our feet, the rush of a waterfall nearby. There was no furniture in the room. This place was so incredibly peaceful. 

“It seems this evening has given me more questions than answers.” Thorin spoke up, leaning his shoulder against a pillar to my left. I sighed, going to lean against the one directly in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, I am the reason for that.” He pushed off the pillar, coming to stand in front of me, taking my hands in his. I couldn’t meet his eyes, I felt horrible, everything I wanted to tell him about felt too complicated to put to words. His left hand raised to hold my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. 

“Let’s start with earlier, you said you’d tell me why you didn’t mind being the last witch.” I nodded. 

“Can we sit, at least?” He huffed a laugh and we sat on the floor, crossing our legs and facing each other.

“So?” I finally looked up. It was just Thorin and I but it was still weird to talk about. I looked out to my right, trying to focus on the valley below us instead of what I was saying. 

“Witches are extremely powerful, especially in the old days, when there were a lot of us. But the thing is, one of our greatest strengths comes when we make a pledge. It’s like forming an alliance, except it’s life and magic binding and allows us to practically destroy entire continents. A long time ago, before I was born, there were the Great Wars of the second age. This was the time of Sauron and Isildur. There was a witch, a man, who was one of three lords of Númenor corrupted by the rings of power. He pledged himself to Sauron, and became the Witch-King of Angmar. Thorin, he did terrible things. He is part of the reason there are so few witches left in the world. He is the reason I don’t mind being alone. If we are capable of such evil, such horrible, heinous acts… maybe it’s a good thing there aren’t many of us.” Neither of us spoke for a while, but I could feel him staring at me. 

“You are not him, Amrâlimê…” 

“I could be. If something happened to you, or to the boys-” I had grown close to them, Fili and Kili. I knew if I let anything happen, I’d do terrible things, I’d be out of my mind. He reached forward, grabbing my hands and pulling me and turning me until I sat with my back against his chest, his thighs on either side of my body. I leaned my head back and he pressed a kiss to my cheek as he wrapped his arms around me. 

“Nothing will happen.” I huffed in response and he kissed my cheek again. “Tell me, what did you and Lord Elrond speak of at dinner? It upset you.” Oh. Right. My face went hot again. 

“He was teasing me about you giving me gifts. Then he brought up Thranduil... That’s what made me upset…” he hummed in understanding. 

“He did not say Thranduil’s name, I would not have known.” This was going to be a tough conversation. I had been worrying that when he found out my relation to Thranduil he would hate me just as he does the Elf king. 

“Atar… it means father in Quenya.” I physically felt him stop moving for a second. 

“Thranduil is your father…?” I shook my head. 

“No, not by blood at least. He took my mother and I in when I was born. He practically raised me, but I haven’t spoken with him in almost 70 years. Not since…” he hugged me tighter. “He just left you, and I…” 

“What happened then is over, Amrâlimê. I do not forgive him, but I do not, for one second, hold you responsible for the actions of your father.” My whole body felt empty, like I was trying to piece a puzzle together after not having all the pieces for years. 

“Can I say something? You might find it hard to hear.” My back was warming with his heat. He hummed a yes, always. 

“Just as you do not hold me to my father’s actions, I don’t not hold you to the expectations that others had for your father.” He went still again. “If things don’t go as planned, if we cannot reclaim the mountain, you cannot work yourself to death trying,” I sat up, turning to face him, “You do enough just trying, your people are happy, and if you have the chance at a good life then that is what you aim for.” His mouth was a hard line, but his eyes held something else. They were narrowed like he was intently listening, but his eyes themselves had a light in them, like he wasn’t upset with what I was saying. 

“If I have a life with you, no matter how long or short or prosperous or poor it may be, if it is with you, then it shall be a good and happy life.” My ears went hot this time as well as my cheeks, and I grinned with crinkled eyes. I pressed my forehead to his with closed eyes. He sighed into it, his whole body relaxing. We sat together for some time, talking about little things here and there, and soon the sun had left us completely, and the moon swept in a cool breeze on glittering silver light. 

 “Come, as much as I love sitting with you, you’re gross, and so am I.” He laughed and hauled us both to our feet, stretching our legs and beginning the long walk to the bathhouses. His ring finger looped with mine as we walked, slowly creeping through the dark halls. We could hear the other company members in the farthest room in the eastern wing of the estate. 

“Seems they’re all having a wonderful time.” I remarked, feeling chills run down my arms as Thorin wrapped a hand around my waist. I smiled and leaned into him, kissing his lips before walking off, slowly leading him down the halls to the bathhouses. We approached the three rooms, men’s, women’s, and the private house to the back. “I’ll be in the one back there.” I pointed all the way down the hall, to the two white double doors. He nodded, leaning down for one more kiss and he was gone, closing the door behind him as he went into the men’s room. As soon as the doors clicked closed I released all the breath from my lungs. I was alone for the first time since Gandalf showed up at my door three months ago. Now that Thorin was gone I felt myself drag, my feet trudging along the stone tiles, and I slowly pried my way into the private bathroom.

It would be more accurate to call the bathroom a bath-hall. The long, rectangular room had high walls with little alcoves carved into silvery stone. An inner row of tall pillars lined the large rectangular pool with an open-air ceiling, moonlight pouring in. There were walls lined with benches and tables, each littered with small vials and bowls, each with their own oils and dried herbs. I stood in the entrance of the room, dazed for a moment. Three months without a proper bathroom and suddenly I forget just how it all works. Muscle memory snaps into motion though, and my feet move me to the nearest bench, slipping off my shoes before walking over to one of the tables, securing two towels and a handful of little bottles. Setting the towels down on the beach by my shoes, I stripped off my clothes, tossing them on the floor without care. Grabbing the bottles, I placed two of them on the edge of the pool. One was Night Blossom scented and was for my body while the other was orchid scented and for my hair. If I was gonna be out there for another 4-6 months without another proper bath, I may as well take advantage of it. Steam rolled off the water, little petals danced on the surface as they fell from the open ceiling. I slipped my foot in, the heat tingling as it warmed my cold skin, but it wasn’t horrible. I eased my way in fully, the water only coming up to my hips. In the center of the pool was a raised block of stone that served as a submerged bench, and I sat so that the water sloshed just above my chest. 

I soaked in the heat, letting my limbs wane from the freezing tingling sensation to a warm buzz. I spent several minutes dipping my hair into the water, scrubbing out the dirt and grime, scrubbing my arms and legs until they were tinted red. I was never one for letting grime build on my person, it just wasn’t comfortable for me. Once I felt clean enough, I moved to the edge where I sat on a bench, leaning back and closed my eyes, letting my body relax once again.

There was knocking at the door. My eyes pried open. My arms felt so warm and loose, I didn’t want to get up. 

“My Lady?” Thorin sounded concerned from the other side of the door. I hummed in response, loud enough that I’m sure he heard it from beyond the door. The door clicked open and I turned, pressing my chest to the wall, hiding behind the edge for some semblance of decency.  I’ve spent 3 months with a group of men in situations where the best bath was a river; total privacy was unheard of at this point. 

“You know, it’s highly indecent for a King to look upon his courtship while they’re in the bath. People will talk.” His lips twitched up into a smirk, eyes narrowed. 

“I believe we’ve passed the point of indecency, Âzyungâl.” I snorted, crossing my arms over the edge and resting my head against them, taking in the picture before me. His hair was down and dripping, the little braids in his hair gone. He was also incredibly shirtless. Water dripped down his shoulders, over his chest, and farther down. I had seen him shirtless before, but only for extremely short periods of time. This was… purposeful. He was only wearing his pants, the hem getting wet as the water kept dripping. I was staring at his pants- I tore my eyes from his figure to meet his eyes. I don’t know what happened to me, but what shyness I once had was crushed by curiosity and bravado. 

“You seem to have already bathed, My King. Will you still join me?” Anxiety turned in my stomach as the words left my mouth. I swear I hadn’t touched the wine from dinner. This was all me. His eyes widened and I felt a cold prick of fear, thinking the worst, but his grin remained, like he couldn’t believe his ears. His thumbs hooked onto the waistband of his pants and my shyness came back with a vengeance. I turned, trying to play off my reddening face by standing and coolly wading away from the edge of the pool just a few feet. I heard him step in, taking to wrapping my arms around my chest for some coverage. 

He walked closer, the water moving around my hips as his hands smoothed over my sides to wrap around me. 

“Is this alright?” His voice gave me chills. I nodded, losing my voice to the wonderful feeling of bare contact. The heat of the water felt like nothing compared to the heat of his chest pressed against my back. I relaxed back into him, his head falling on my shoulder as he relaxed into me in return. His hands ran up and down my sides, moving down to squeeze my hips before moving back up to ghost over my ribs, brushing the underside of my breasts as he did so. I hugged my arms tighter around my chest to stave off the growing want in my lower abdomen. We stayed like that for a while until the water started to cool. 

“Mm…” Thorin grumbled, and I chuckled low in my chest, lowering one of my hands from around my chest, letting my fingers dip into the water and skirt around the surface, moving my hand to create little swirls in the water. Focusing on my own body heat mingling with Thorin’s, the water grew warmer until steam slowly rose from the surface once again. Thorin sighed into my shoulder, placing lingering kisses along my shoulder and up my neck. This time I happily leaned my head away, allowing him access. His hands grabbed my hips hard as he placed open mouthed kisses up my neck, up my jaw, to the spot just behind my ear. This is the first time we’ve been truly alone, no worry of the others coming in, no imminent threat. Just peace. Peace and the throbbing ache between my legs that was slowly driving me crazy. He was driving me crazy. 

I made up my mind quickly. Turning slowly, I moved my hands to hold his face, gently pulling him closer to meet my lips. It was slow at first, gentle and easy, but I got curious again, and began to kiss him a little harder, moving my hands from his jaw to the back of his head. He kissed harder, lips bruising, open mouthed and starving. I tangled my fingers in his hair and hardened my grip, pushing my chest up so that we were pressed against each other. What I can only describe as a short growl came from Thorin as his hands gripped bruisingly on my hips, one lowering to grab the cleft of my rear, lifting me to my tiptoes while the other moved to the small of my back, pressing me further into his chest. I lifted my leg that his hand was holding only a little, enough to hook my knee on his thigh, just enough so that he’d get the idea. 

He pulled his head away and he was looking down at me, eyes dark and gloating. A whimper was startled out of me as his hands reached down and grabbed the back of both of my thighs, hoisting me up to wrap my legs around his waist. I thanked every instinct in me that told me to tighten my core so I wouldn’t fall backwards. Walking over to the left, he sat me on the very edge of the bath. I sat a few inches taller than him on the ledge and it felt dizzying to be looking down at him like this. The water swayed around his hips as he pressed himself between my legs, hands wrapping around my thighs to rub circles to the inside with his thumbs. I placed my own hands on his jaw, tilting his chin up to press my lips to his heavily. He growled against my lips, hands leaving my thighs to thread one of his hands through my hair, tugging the hair at the nape of my neck. The other moved down my body, trailing down my abdomen, over my navel, and pausing above my sex. 

“Jalâ'gul astni azrul 'ala.” Tell me you want this.

“Azrul 'ala, Amrâlimê.” I want this, My Love.

He doesn’t waste his time, callused hand dipping between my legs to press his thumb to my clit. He pressed slow, agonizing circles into the already throbbing nerves and the sharp sensation made my thighs tense around his waist. My head is pulled back, and I hissed as he roughly kissed my neck, then my collarbone, then mouthing over my chest until he wrapped his lips around the bud. I slide my hands from his jaw to the back of his neck, weaving my fingers through his hair. The finger pressed against my clit moved away and I whined until he pressed the pad of his pointer finger against my entrance, slowly sliding his finger in as he continued to lap, suck and nip at my breasts. His hand detangled from my hair and wrapped around my hip, holding me firm as I tried to buck my hips into his hand. It felt incredible, a burning, tight, wonderful feeling that only got stronger. He rolled his tongue and my eyes rolled back. He pulled his hand away for a second only to add his middle finger. His hands were callused and rough, and they were big. 

We shouldn’t be doing this, he’s practically a king, but I didn’t want to stop, not now, not ever. A gasp left my chest as he shifted his hand between my thighs and pressed his thumb against my clit once again. I could feel my body getting hot as he slowly moved his finger in and out of me and his thumb resuming heavy circles. My chest was heaving, eyes heavily lidded and hyper focused on his own. They were a dark, stormy gray-blue, and staring at me, trailing up and down my body. 

“Lay back.” I could feel my heart pick up rapidly as I eased myself back onto my elbows. As I did his hands ran themselves down my back until they firmly grabbed the back of the hips, pulling them to the edge of the pool. I held his gaze, anxiety and desperation mixing into an ugly feeling in my gut. As cool and natural as I seemed at this, I had never actually done it. My only knowledge source was the books I had read, and those can’t prepare you for everything. I was moving based on feeling, want, desire, whatever my body and my mind said felt right. 

“Mahal… you’re perfect.” He was taking in the sight of me, legs spread, body leaned back and open to him. I felt my body shiver as the water on my skin turned cool in the air, nerves spiking. My heart jumped in my throat as he leaned down to place lingering kisses on my hips, taking his time as he made his way lower and lower, kissing my hips, the top of my thighs, the inside of my thighs, all the way down to my knees. I had never, ever, read about this. I’m practically panting, eyes hazy as I watch him worship my thighs. 

“Puitho…” My face flushed as the curse left my lips, staring down into his eyes as he made his way back up. My knees, the inside of my thighs, the tops. I could feel his breath on my sex. His hands tightened on the back of my hips. 

“Tell me… tell me it’s too much and I will stop.” I shook my head so fast I got dizzy. 

“Avo dharo... Please, please, please don’t stop.” It came out like a whine, and I watched as his eyes rolled back, adoring the way I pleaded for him. Thankfully I didn’t have to say anything else because he quickly moved forwards, holding me still as he used the point of his tongue to lick from my entrance up to my clit in one swipe. My whole body tensed at the sharp pleasure, and I fell softly onto my back, hands reaching down to thread into his hair. He repeated it over and over, switching from the point of his tongue to the flat then back again. My back arched, my head pressing against the floor. All too soon he stopped, pressing quick, soft kisses to the very apex of my thighs.

“Ibrêj… you are absolutely perfect.” He said something in Khuzdul, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. I squirmed, my hips twitching in his hands. A startled gasp jolted out of me as he placed a rough kiss to my clit, wrapping his lips around it, sucking and mouthing and smoothing it over with his tongue. He played with me for several seconds, flicking and circling my clit with his tongue until I was squirming worse, desperate to gain something rougher. My heels dug into the pool wall under the water and I was glad for it, because I used that little bit of leverage to move my hips. He growled into my cunt and the sound made my stomach do flips. I whined as he let go of my clit, but I was satisfied again as he ran his tongue along my entrance again, one of his hands sliding over my abdomen to press down on my navel while his thumb pressed on my clit. I was in heaven, truly, my hips twitching but unable to freely move with every sharp tang of pleasure, his tongue playing with my cunt while his thumb played with my clit was absolutely amazing. 

I lost my ability to speak as the tightening pleasure in my navel reduced me to whimpering and short panting breaths. I tugged on his hair, my hips twitching and grinding against his mouth. Low hums of approval came from Thorin. I had never felt this good, not ever. Suddenly a sharp, tight sensation started at the very center of my cunt and it felt like I was getting dizzier with every swipe of his tongue.

“Thorin… ah- puitho- Thorin!” I could hardly think, it was like a match being struck and suddenly my cunt was squeezing around nothing while wave after wave of suffocating pleasure wracked my body. My head fell backwards as my hips twitched and arched off the floor. One after another, it was like my body was tightening and releasing for several seconds. The throbbing sensation dulled slowly until I was drained. When the daze finally cleared, I took an agonizing breath, my whole-body limp on the stone floor. Thorin was still between my legs, softly kissing my thighs. My fingers slowly relaxed in his hair, slowly pulling away. I tried to sit up but found that my body was too tired. From my neck to my arms, my back all the way down to my feet, it was like the energy had been drained out of me.

“Shhh, Amrâlimê.” 

He pulled me up by my hands and my stomach did flips as I reoriented myself. I felt heavy and light at the same time, like my body was void of all energy and my head was void of all thought. He leaned forwards slowly and pressed his lips to mine, and I welcomed him gladly. Whatever that was, I want more. I tried to lean into the kiss but found that I was swaying, my body still low on energy. Maybe later… not right now.

We spent another half hour in the water, in each other’s company, but we did nothing more. He didn’t try to go any further and I didn’t ask him to. What we had already done was enough for now, and he seemed more than satisfied with himself. Almost gloating, his ego was clearly having a field day. After we had dried and dressed in something fairly clean, we make our way to the hall the Elves lent us for a few nights. But the hall was near empty. Not one dwarf or singular hobbit could be found in any of the rooms towards the front of the hall. In fact, all 13 of them were huddled in one room at the very back of the hall.

We sat in the singular room, scattered on the floor and on benches around a fireplace in the far right of the room. To our backs was a balcony looking out across the valley, and far across the room were the two double doors that Dwalin wouldn’t stop watching. I sat on the floor, my back pressed against a column with Thorin at my side. My shoulder jostled as Thorin passed a venison cube to me. Bomber and Ori had been cooking their own food over the fire, making snide little comments about Elvish foods as they passed around pieced of meat and bread. As they spoke, I had food passed to me from every direction; Thorin was passing me food from my left, Ori was handing me food from my right, and Fili and Kili were throwing food over the fire at me. I know Dwarves eat a lot, and Hobbits eat more, so why in Elentári’s name was I being given this much? I let the thought die in my mind as we laughed loudly with each other, joking and trying to ease ourselves before the journey continued. A knock came from the door, and everyone fell deathly silent. I looked to Dwalin and met his eyes as he looked between Thorin and I. Looking to Thorin I gave a near imperceivable nod and Thorin gave Dwalin silent permission to open the door. A tall, lanky blond Elf stood there; his eyes fixed on some unknown focal point in the distance. I can’t tell if its respect or distain that causes this.

“The Lord Elrond requests the audience of Thorin Oakenshield.” No one moved for a moment, all staring at Thorin. With a nod he stood, and Balin, Bilbo, and I stood with him. None of us said anything as we were escorted down the winding halls, down deeper into the Elven estate. We were brought into a chamber hidden under the cliffside, a waterfall pouring from the room above and falling like a curtain over the edge of the room. Unlike other rooms, this one had no columns or railing to indicate where the edge of the floor was. Instead, it was open on the entire back half of the room, looking out without barrier. All I could do was stare out into the sky, the moon lighting up every inch of the room. Something felt… off. Between the time we were called into this room and the moment we walked through the threshold, something pivotal happened. Someone else is in Rivendell.

~~

Piutho: Sindarin for the "Fuck"

Avo dharo: Sindarin for "Don't stop"

Ibrêj: Khuzdul for "Astounding"

@mrsdurin ,@capricorn-anon, @emmapotato88 , @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy , @eilin-brillewin​ @hpthalia126 , @undecided-about-everything-ever , @dark-chxos, @artemis-the-ace, @floatingintheshire

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Thorin x Witch!Reader

It took me hours to find the sword types for this stupid chapter, and even longer when I spent a literal week reading about Ecthelion and the fall of Gondolin when I didn’t even need or use any of the information.

I GOT A DOG!! That’s kinda why I haven’t been as active, training and caring for her takes a lot of time, especially when she’s so young. I’ve also been sick for the past several weeks. I’m sick with the flu one week then I catch a shitty chest cold the next, it’s hellish.

I drank a ghost energy drink so I could stay awake and focus at work. Instead, I made this 2-3,000 words LONGER THAN WHEN I STARTED. Hehe whoops, I cut it off so that it wasn't longer than 5,000.... it would have been like... 7,000 if I hadn't.

Warnings: General LOTR/Hobbit danger, chase scene, non-important character death, reader can't run (just like me), Thorin and reader are so soft and in love its disgusting, kissing, smooches, these two get just a tad handsy, cursing, Thorin being rude to Elrond because he can be, elvish translated in italics directly after its said (unless translated by character). If there's any I missed, let me know.

“For you.” Turning to my right, I saw Thorin holding a sword out to me, the hilt glittering silver in the firelight of the ark troll cave. I recognized the thin scrolling designs and the soft, thin wrap of leather around the handle. It was of Elvish make, forged before my time, during the first age. I noticed another, very similar to it, in his other hand.

“It is beautiful, seronil, thank you.” I carefully took the blade from him, examining the sharp edge for nicks as he bound his own to his belt. Along the fine edge were several small places that looked worn, put to good use in battle I’d hope. It was not mine to examine for long before it was taken out of my hands. Looking up, Thorin had taken it and began strapping it to my side. My ears went hot as his hands ghosted my sides and my eyes scattered across the cave, only to find that the others had all left, most likely for shovels to make that ‘long-term deposit’.

“Âzyungâl,” He tightened the belt around my hips, and I lifted my face. I hadn’t even realized I was looking anywhere else besides him.

“These were forged in Gondolin… by the High Elves, of the First Age,” Gandalf spoke up from behind us, and Thorin’s face dropped into a scowl. Something about Thorin wishing we would have just a few minutes more to ourselves only to have Gandalf of all people interrupt him made me laugh silently. “You could not wish for a finer blade.” He was holding his own broad sword, straight and narrow opposed to our matching curved single edge falcatas. Leaning forwards, I pressed my lips to his cheek quickly before brushing past him and making my way out of the cave, paying extra attention to the ground as the reality of what I had done sets in. I hadn’t done that yet… neither had he, not really, I didn’t think kissing my hands counted quite the same.

 I snapped out of my thoughts as I nearly tripped, stopped short and looked up to take account of the others. They were scattered here and there, some talking about the gold in the troll cave, others talking about the journey ahead. It seemed like the calm after the storm had settled around us, as if we were finally going to get back to the monotonous journey once again. I could never be so lucky.

“Something’s coming!” Ori ran down from the rock top he was looking over. My hand reached over to pull my sword from my side as Thorin ran over and placed himself in front of me, his own sword already raised. A tethered pack of rabbits raced over the hill, pulling a sleigh behind it.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” A mad man raved as he came to a screeching halt in front of us. He was of man, not as tall as Gandalf, but younger, with a large nose and lichen growing down the side of his face, as if he were part tree. His hat had strange flaps at the sides, and his brown-greying hair and beard was matted and wild. A crazed look sat in his wide eyes, and he was rumbling nonsense. Gandalf was the first to move, placing his sword back at his side with a sigh of relief.

“Radagast! Radagast the Brown!” Radagast? He was one of the other Wizards Gandalf mentioned weeks ago. Relief quickly shifted to suspicion as Gandalf approached this new stranger, “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” Radagast was out of breath, whispering bad omens and glancing about like he was scared of being watched.

“Yes?”

“Just give me a minute. Um…Oh! I had a thought and now I’ve lost it. It was…it was- was right there, on the tip of my tongue! Oh! It’s not a thought at all! It’s a silly old… stick insect.” A long green bug crawls out of his open mouth and I have to look away not to be sick at the thought. The two walk off, Gandalf separating Radagast from the prying eyes of the company. An unease settled over us as we lowered our weapons but not our guard. The two talked for some time, and some of the company had sat down, others conversing in small groups, while sat with Bilbo, talking about home.

He missed his home so much and he spoke of it so fondly of his house and his books and his peaceful days. He had many neighbors whose company he enjoyed, family who he dedicated his time to, and even the luxury of six meals a day. I’d like to think that, over the course of these past several weeks, I had found a friend in Bilbo. Much like a confidant, he seemed to be one of the few I could openly talk to about things without the topic of Thorin always coming up. For 13 dwarves who spent much of their lives with him, they sure do ask me about him a lot.

Howling in the distance set the party on edge. No one moved, some didn’t even breathe, all hoping the howling would pass.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo asked quietly beside me. I shook my head, knowing wolves would be better than what it actually probably was.

“Wolves? No… that was no wolf.” I whispered. Thorin came running down from the cliff’s edge, rocks sliding as he made a fast descend to the rest of the group.

“Warg Scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind.” Everyone began moving so fast, packing things and readying themselves. I stuffed my things into my pack, my mother’s book getting shoved in carelessly. Gandalf was yelling, something about telling someone something, I wasn’t really listening. I was brought out of my frenzied rush by Dwalin brushing past me.

“We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t! We have no ponies. They bolted.” Panic was setting in. In the near distance, the howling and barking got louder. Glancing around the group, I met Thorin’s eyes. He met mine as he looked around the group. He didn’t know what to do, how could he, this was the first time any of us heard about Wargs and Orcs being on our tail.

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast spoke up, and Gandalf quickly tried to shut him down.

“These are Gundabad Wargs. They will outrun you!”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I’d like to see them try.” I didn’t know what Rhosgobel rabbits were, but if it gave us a chance then I’ll take it.

As soon as Radagast’s sleigh cleared the tree line we made a run for it. All of us running low to the ground I don’t remember the last time I ran like this. My chest burned, the air cold on my throat, cheeks flushing. We moved from rock cluster to bolder, dodging the Wargs’ line of sight and praying the Radagast kept them busy enough for us to make it to the next rock cluster. Running up and down hill was killing me. My mind raced with unhelpful thoughts; ‘what if we didn’t all make it?’ ‘What if I didn’t make it?’ ‘Can Wargs be quiet enough to surprise us and kill us off one by one?’ Like I said, very unhelpful. Gandalf was leading us northeast, and something about it seemed familiar. I didn’t have time to ponder it though, because the farther we got from our starting point, the closer Radagast and the Warg pack got.

We were all waiting behind a single large rock cluster when claws scraping against stone and hungry growling slowly crept over the hill to our backs. We pressed ourselves to the stone, clinging to the hope that maybe the Warg and its rider would not see us. Little chips of stone fell on my shoulders as loud snorts made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on point. I think I was shaking, just a little, and my eyes focused on the expanse of yellowing grass, staggered pines, and tall, sharp stones. A hand unfocused my eyes as it came to hover above my collar bone. I followed the wrist, then the forearm, then the bicep, then the strong jawline, to the grey-blue eyes more focused on telling Kili to shoot the damn thing. The second his arrow flew we were made. He didn’t kill the scout, instead it took a second arrow to trip the Warg, and it tumbled off the hill in front of us. The scout got to its feet and ran at us, but Dwalin drove his axe into its side while Nori stabbed it repeatedly. It made so much noise, the sounds of the chase beyond had gone quiet. I shouldered Thorin out from in front of me, stretching my arm out to see the Warg hound clearly as I imagined holding the Warg’s skull in my hand, just above its spine. I pulled at the imaginary feeling until I just nearly felt it tangible and twisted my wrist harshly. The Warg’s neck snapped abruptly, and we all froze as the hills around us fell deathly silent. A horn, yelling in Orcish, and the howling started again, coming for us.

It wasn’t long before we were cornered, surrounded. We were all separated, in little groups of two or three, staggering and breathless. Looking over Nori’s shoulder, I caught sight of the boys and Thorin, a ways out to our left. Kili was shooting them one by one, but it did little to damage them. If he happened to land a successful shot, another Warg replaced it fast. My vision was blurring as I tried to keep track of everything. I couldn’t tell whether we were missing someone or if that was just the dizzying turn of my eyes.

“Where’s Gandalf?” Wait, what, where was Gandalf? He’s taller than everyone, he shouldn’t be hard to miss, so where-

“This way, you fools!” He appeared from behind a rock and the confusion mixed with the fear and the relief and made me sick. All this running was making me dizzy. I wasn’t built for running, I’m 5” with the physique of a relaxed walker… not a runner. One by one dwarves fell into the hidden tunnel, falling on top of one another, elbows, knees, and backpacks clashing down the steep fall. I pulled my arms up to shield my head as I rolled down the slope. My back hit the sharp ground, then my arms, then my back again.

Standing from the gravel littered ground, I began brushing myself off while narrowly avoiding elbows as the Dwarves did the same in the close proximity of the tunnel entrance.

“Kili! Run!” Thorin’s voice echoed down into the cave. The boys, Fili and Kili, were still out there. Fili came sliding first, and I grabbed his arms, pulling him out of the way as Kili followed shortly after. Watching the cave entrance, the longer it took for Thorin to join us, the longer panic took me over. Rocks and pebbles rained down on us as he came skidding to a halt. I breathed, filling my lungs fully for the first time since meeting Radagast. A horn sounded from somewhere nearby, and large hands pushed me back behind the party as a body fell after Thorin. An orc, unmoving, with an arrow sticking out of its back. Thorin pulled the arrow, examining it before throwing it in disgust. “Elves.”

The fear and sudden relief mixing in my chest were starting to make me sick. Looking over, I saw Thorin already looking at me, head tilted slightly as if to ask a question. I smiled and let my chest sink into a sigh as I nodded. I was ok. We were all ok.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not?” Dwalin interrupted our silent conversation.

“We follow it, of course!” There was shoving, and the party was slowly forming a line to walk down the path.

“I think that would be wise.” I heard Gandalf mutter and realized that this was part of his plan. He led us here, knowing we would find this place, and he knows where it leads. Thorin realized the same thing.

“Where are you leading us...?” He didn’t get a response, only a strange look before Gandalf walked off to keep the others on track. The others passed me, each nodding towards me, like a gesture of acknowledgement or respect. It was weird but I moved past it. I went to follow, but a hand pressed against my back and on instinct I relaxed back into the warmth. Thorin wrapped his hand from my back around to my side and pulled my back against his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to my left shoulder. “Are you alright, My Lady?”

I smiled again, turning to meet his eyes. “Yes, My King, simply not built for running like that.” He chuckled low nodding.

“You and me both.” He kissed my shoulder again, slowly this time, moving from my shoulder up my neck until he was pressing slow kisses on my pulse point, under my jaw. We really should catch up with the others. His hands held me tighter, holding me fast against his chest. No matter how warm he was against me, he gave me chill bumps along my arms and down my back, my neck slowly leaning to the side as if to open up for him. He littered my neck with his kiss as his hand slowly lowered from my side to my hip bone, grabbing, as if desperate to go lower.

“Thorin?” Dwalin calls from far along the pathway. My whole-body tenses and Thorin lets out a silent laugh. I’m glad he finds getting caught so amusing.

“I’m following, Dwalin. Let me go at my own pace.” His hands moved to my waist to rub circles into my back with his thumbs.

“Aye. And is the Witch moving at your pace as well?” My face flushed red and Thorin kept laughing. This bastard-

“She is.” He called after Dwalin and sighed into my shoulder. “Let’s go, My Lady. I fear I’ve kept you for too long.” We walked along the stone pathway, the rocks towering above us to create a ravine that let the sunlight dance down on top of us. I walked behind Thorin, fingers locked with his, and we trailed behind the others at a distance so that we could talk.

“What are we going to when we get to the end of this? Gandalf knows where we’re going, and I feel like I do to- I just can’t place it.” Thorin nodded.

“Wherever we end up, we stay close together, and we do not let our guard down. I don’t care if it’s a friendly place we’re headed to. If anyone catches wind of our true intentions, to enter the mountain and reclaim it, they will try to stop us.” I hummed in agreement. Since leaving Bag End, I had found it hard to disagree with his rough, secretive outlook on this quest. Clearly things were not as they seemed when it came to the mountain.

“What if it’s the elves? Gandalf had been asking about seeing them before the trolls, is it unreasonable to think he would lure us to them?” Thorin visibly sulked at the thought but shook his head.

“No, that’s most likely exactly what he’s doing. Whatever they want, they will not have.”

“And if they want to help us?” He shook his head again.

“They won’t, and you know it. We must be careful Amrâlimê.” I nodded but suddenly had a thought that had never occurred to me before.

“What does that mean?” He stopped, turning confused.

“What does what mean?”

“Amrâlimê. What is that word? You’ve said other singular words like it too, but I don’t recognize them. And the other A- one and the I- one! I do not know these and yet-”

“What are you talking about?!” He interrupted me and my eyes widened in annoyance. He wasn’t answering me, and I felt like he was doing that on purpose.

"There was one that Kili called me, Irak-something! Thorin, please!” He smiled and shook his head, that rare smile like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Irak’Amad, My Lady, is Aunt.” It took me a second to process but when I realized I smiled so wide my eyes crinkled. Fili and Kili have been calling me Aunt and I didn’t even know.

“And the others?” He looked down at my lips before meeting my eyes, his hands coming to sit on my hips again.

“Sanâzyung means perfect love,” he leaned in, pulling my chest against his. The way he spoke his native tongue, deep and rumbling in his chest, it made my head hazy. “and Âzyungâl means lover,” His head tilted down, lips a breath away from mine, so close I could feel him speaking against mine. “and Amrâlimê… means my love.” He gently pressed his lips to mine and suddenly the very thought of not kissing Thorin felt detrimental to my health. We had never kissed like this before; it had always been on the hands or shoulders. We were always with people, or in danger, never alone with no one to interrupt. It was slow, and I gently wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, threading my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He sighed through his nose, and we would have stayed there like that for hours had we not heard the others. Gasps of surprise and Dwalin calling Thorin’s name, sounding mildly panicked, broke us apart once again and this time it was I who sighed in agitation.

“We will never be alone, will we.” He gave a wry smile, pressing his lips to mine again, quickly this time. I didn’t want this to end, who knows when we’d get another chance to be so close. But the mission pressed on, and the road was long before the end of our journey.

 We caught up with the others and I was stunned at what I saw. Tall, spiraling, elegant towers, graceful waterfalls under delicate bridges stretching across the great expanse of the mountain’s edge. Great halls with high arches and curving stone glittered in the afternoon light. The great Elven estate was built in the mouth of the valley, looking out over the river as it extends east.

“The Valley of Imladris. In the common tongue, it’s known by another name.” Gandalf spoke over our awe, rounding the ledge as we all looked on.

“Rivendell.” A whisper came from my left and I looked over to see Bilbo, eyes wide.

“Here lies the last homely house, east of the sea.” I remember coming here, once, a long time ago with Thranduil. I was incredibly young, and I don’t remember the details, but I remember the feeling. This is home, without it every having been home. Thorin moved past me, anger masked by narrowed eyes and squared shoulders.

“This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy.” ‘Enemy’ was such a harsh word and yet I couldn’t really find fault with his point of view. I disagree, I believe Lord Elrond will help us more than hinder us, but in Thorin’s mind it wasn’t just Thranduil that abandoned his people that day. To Thorin, it was every Elf, every person who aligns themselves with the Elves or calls the Elves friend was liable to Thorin’s distaste.

Gandalf sneered at him, scrunching his nose as he snapped at Thorin, “You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

“You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.” The king tilts his head, wryly calling the ancient wizard’s choices into question. Gandalf had none of it, acutely aware of what Lord Elrond would have to say.

“Of course, they will. But we have questions that need to be answered,” He walked through the party, making his way to the stone step path that led down to the first bridge. “If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me.” I rolled my eyes. Thorin went first and I followed second, taking his hand to step down as the steps became steeper and more detailed. We walked shoulder to shoulder in pairs along the narrow bridges until we came to two tall Elven statues standing guard in front of a large circular courtyard. We filed into the courtyard, slowly regrouping and breaking off to talk separately in smaller groups. I stayed near Thorin, my hand resting against his shoulder as he and Dwalin discuss escape routes. From the steps above, a young Elf passes by two guards and almost don’t recognize him.

“Mithrandir.” Lindir was the right hand of Lord Elrond and had been for some time now. I had known him when he was younger, and to think that he had risen so far was surprising. He was always so… carefree as a young Elf. The two stepped closer, speaking Quenya in hushed tones. Thorin turned his head to Dwalin and I.

“Stay sharp, and you stay behind me.” I snapped my head towards him.

“I know the people here. Lord Elrond is a kind man, he will help us I know it, please trust me.” He met my eyes with skepticism, but I stared him down, knowing I was right. Suddenly a horn sounded behind us, and the clattering of dozens of horse hoofs spooked the company.

“Close ranks!” I was pulled back into a crowd of dwarven elbows as they close in around each other. The hunting party circles us until they have is hidden by rings of Elven warriors. A man I had met only a few times in my life dismounts from the head of the hunting party and approaches Gandalf happily.

“Gandalf!” He smiled wide and it felt like I was in the presence of peace and tranquility. Like he polluted the air with a calm demeanor and made everyone feel safe. Everyone except the dwarves. Gandalf bowed and began speaking with him in Quenya, too fast for me to easily translate. I slipped my hand into Thorin’s, pressed so close to each other that no one noticed. Until I was addressed.

“(Name), Niethir iin Eryn Galen, Thranduilwen!” (name), Niethir of the Greenwood, daughter of Thranduil! Looking up, I met his smile and reciprocated a relived one of my own.

“Hér Elrond!” I bowed my head and slowly eased my way out of the group. Thorin squeezed my hand, and I stopped short of leaving from directly in front of him. He held onto me, and I held onto him. Elrond saw this but made no note of it.

“Quenyalda aryaië?” Your Quenya is improving? My cheeks flushed as I remembered the promise I made to him when I was much younger. I told him I would learn every language I could, and that I’d be able to speak to him in perfect Quenya one day. At the time, I wanted to impress both him and Thranduil.

“Paranya, au lenca.” I am learning, if only slowly.

“Naylë arya malda nyanya,” You are better than most. I smiled widely and nodded in thanks. “Si casar, carltë lenda asillo?” These dwarves, do they travel with you? I looked to Thorin quickly before looking back to Elrond.

“Lá, málonya.” Yes, my friends. He nodded and grinned. Looking past me, he focused on someone else behind me and I felt Thorin’s hand tighten in mine.

“Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain.” Thorin came to stand beside me as he was addressed.

“I do not believe we have met.” I almost sensed haughty arrogance from Thorin, like he was waiting to make some snide comment.

“You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain.”

“Indeed? He made no mention of you.” Ah. There it is. I rolled my eyes and met Elrond’s once again. The right corner of his lip quirked upwards so fast and so little that I almost missed it. Almost.

“Si gonnhirrim arldë alatulyaië imi Rivendell. Silómë merenlmë, málonlda arldë fúmë hí.” I sighed and smiled brightly, nodding happily in thanks. He turned and began walking back up the stairs but was stopped when Gloin spoke up in rage.

“What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?” He pushed his way to the front. I jostled as the others moved to make room for him. Gandalf turned to us, obviously tired of the Dwarves’ antics.

“No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food.” The Dwarves froze and suddenly turned in to whisper tightly between each other. Thorin and I leaned in, and my lips just barely brushed his cheek.

“His exact words were that you are welcomed in Rivendell, and that we may feast and sleep here tonight, but Gandalf was never good at translating.” I spoke low and soft, so that he was the only one to hear me. He grinned and turned slightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. His lips were so close to mine, but the others had already started moving towards the stairs and there wasn’t time. He pressed our foreheads together, the side of his nose against mine, eyes closed. It lasted only a second or two, but it became my favorite thing. We were led up the stairs farther into the estate, past large columns and gorgeous waterfalls, other Elves passing us. They nodded towards me when they recognized me, and the Dwarves started to take notice. Thorin leaned into my side, the little braid that hung by his ear knocking into my shoulder.

“They know you here?” I nodded, still scanning the area as we crossed another bridge with no railings.

“I came here once a really long time ago, but it’s more likely they know me because I’m a witch, one of the last, remember?” There was a pause before he nodded, lips closed tight as if something suddenly bothered him. I saw this, but I couldn’t figure out what it could have been. Thorin was always stoic these days, always looking ahead for the danger, always thinking of what-ifs. Moments like this I remembered just how different he is now compared to when we first met. The carefree, smiling young man who led me down backstreets and alleyways got smothered by time and grief and hurt. “Thorin,” I bumped his shoulder with mine lightly, “What are you thinking?”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes, looking off in the distance, before looking down at the stone walkway. “You are the last of your kind… that never truly struck me until now. To be the last of your kind, alone in the world, without anyone who truly understands… I’m sorry.” I was shocked. I guess that made sense, though I never really thought of it like that. Yes, I was most likely, almost definitely, the last Witch in Middle Earth, but it didn’t make me as sad as it probably should have.

“Don’t be. As much as it sounds horrible, I don’t feel bad being the last.” His head snapped towards me, eyes wide and worried.

“Why-”

“Come, you are to feast with Lord Elrond. Then, you will be escorted to the bath houses. Lady Niethir, you are welcomed to the separate house for privacy.” I nodded in thanks before lowering my head to speak to Thorin quietly again.

“I’ll tell you later, Ara Nín. Let’s at least have tonight before we step back into the world.” He nodded reluctantly and took my hand in his, kissing the back before pulling me with him into the dining room with the rest of the company. 

@mrsdurin ,@capricorn-anon, @emmapotato88 , @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy , @eilin-brillewin​ @hpthalia126 , @undecided-about-everything-ever , @dark-chxos, @artemis-the-ace, @floatingintheshire

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- PART 3 IS UP!!!! Hahahah this was gonna be something completely different but it didn’t feel right so here’s some short, sweet fluff for you guys. There is only 1 more part that I plan on doing for this series, if I happen to get an idea I MAY add to it, but that’s not guaranteed.

update- I did, in fact, get an idea halfway through writing this so there may be 2 more parts coming... I keep digging this hole for myself lol.

Content: Date night gets canceled, so reader stays up waiting for Bat’s to come home.

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: None <3

I say this with all the love, kindness, and genuine honesty I have in my 5”5 body: I hate the cold. Years of living in Gotham should have accustomed me to it, but I could never adjust. The way my toes grew numb, my legs covered in bumps and chills no matter how many layers I wore. I was made for warmer climates, sunnier places. But I stayed, first because of my obligation to help Gothamites, but when it came down to it… I stayed for him.

I stayed for Bruce, in this miserable, constantly cold, raining, blurry mess of a city. In the early months of the city, the snow turned to freezing rain, which was somehow worse, and wind blistered and stung. But I stayed. I stayed for blue eyes and dark hair and a stupid grin that only ever really came out when we were alone.

The night never sleeps, the shadows are always watching and waiting. He needed to keep being out there, keep fighting, but he assured me that I could take off the cold season. Believe me, I tried to argue but he knows how miserable I can be, perhaps a little too well since we’ve been… this. Whatever it is. I stay at the tower more and more, and I’ve noticed my stuff in my apartment slowly appearing in my guest room in the tower. I know it’s Bruce, and it’s only stuff I mention aloud, like my headphones, and the next day there they are, on my dresser. If he keeps this up I’ll end up living here permanently. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.

Since the Riddler incident, Bruce has become more of a public figure. He goes out more, holds more donations, parties, fundraisers. He’s becoming a bit of a philanthropist, not that I mind. Wayne Industries is fueling this city's comeback, and he’s so proud to be doing some real good outside of crime fighting. I’m proud of him, but I’m also adamant on staying in the shadows for now. This is his moment, and news of Bruce Wayne’s new girl becoming public is the last thing he needs.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table beside me.

“We may have to cancel dinner tonight.” Bruce’s voice grumbled through the tiny speaker.

“You traitor,” I heard a huff on the other side as he laughed, “how are you going to break it to Alfred? He was looking forward to cooking.”

“I’ll tell him in a minute. There’s a large number of sightings of Victor Fries near the eastern docks. Gordon has reason to believe it’s a weapons drop, he wants to check it out.”

“Is there no sanctity of Date Night with the GCPD?”

“Gordon’s been married for 30 years. No, I don’t think so.”

“How rude. I’ll be there by 6.” I went to get up from my seat, near empty mug beside me and near finished book in my lap.

“Don’t, I’m taking this one, stay there and stay warm, hopefully I’ll be back before the morning.”

“You’re not serious are you- I really don’t like you doing all of this on your own-”

“Stay. Relax, just be there when I get back.” I grumbled before we said goodbye and I sat back in my chair. Slouching and moody, I couldn’t help but feel some guilt when it comes to Bats being out there again. Tonight was supposed to be ours. The more I thought about it, the more sure I was that if I left now, I could meet him at the police station with time to spare. I wiggled out of my seat, carefully placing my book down, hoping that maybe I wouldn't be heard.

“It might be wise, Ms., if you were to stay the night just once more. The wind is particularly harsh, and with you on that bike of yours, I can just see you ending up in a ditch somewhere.” The old man stood in the doorway of the sitting room, his 3 piece suit looking as spiffy as ever, his brows drawn in concern.

“Alfred…” Alfred was the greatest sweetheart the world had ever known, and the most conniving-

“Just once more, I promise it would be much safer to travel in the morning.” I can’t argue with him, even if I genuinely tried. Looking out the window, the rain was rushing past so fast it was hard to tell if it was really raining or if the wind was a sheet of gray.

“Fine… but Bruce is working tonight, something came up. I guess it’s just us.” He nodded, though I saw in his eyes that he wasn’t surprised.

“Is there anything I can get for you this evening, Ms.?” Leaning my head back, I really couldn’t think of anything much, but I didn’t want to be alone right now.

“Then maybe some more tea, and two good books.”

“Two, Ms.?”

“Yep, one for me, one for you.” He smiled again, and nodded happily before leaving to get the drinks. He and I spent the evening drinking tea, reading, and snacking for hours until Alfred retired for the night. It was about 9 o’clock, so I finished what I could of my book and took it with me down into the train station below the tower. Since my integration into the Bat’s Nest, I made some renovations to the cave with the help of Alfred and Bruce. I put in a couch near the back wall, away from the path of B’s cars and bikes. Since the cold set it, I’ve also added in a space heater or two. After checking the monitores, I put Bruce’s constantly changing location onto the largest screen so I could watch from the couch.

I spent hours like that, laying back on the couch, piles of blankets and a space heater, eyes flicking between the words on my pages and the tracker moving across the screen. I think it was 2 am when I fell asleep, I didn’t really get a good look at the clock before things got fuzzy.

When my eyes slowly opened and shut repeatedly, I woke to icy fingers holding my waist, my whole body jostling and moving. Lifting my head, I realized it was laying on someone’s shoulder, my legs lazily wrapped around a toned waist, and he was carrying me down one of the tower hallways. I hummed a little to let him know I was awake. Bruce turned, kissing my cheek before nudging my head back down on his shoulder. I was too tired to care, not that I minded. My big strong Batman.

He walked us into my room and let me sit down on the edge of the bed. Turning to move towards the pillows, I stopped as I heard his armor hit the floor with hard, sharp thuds. Looking back, he was very slowly taking his plating off, moving stiffly and with slightly shaking fingers. I don’t know why, but I reached over to grab his hand and immediately pulled away, letting out a hiss.

“You’re freezing!!” He laughed a little, continuing to take off his armor.

“Well, Gordon was right. And Fries was there. So, yes, I’m freezing.” As soon as he was left in his undershirt and boxers he reached out, pushing me down on my back and wrapping his hand around my ankle, slowly drawing soft circles on the inside before pulling at the leg of my sweatpants. “You can’t sleep in these- well, you can, but you won’t.”

He was right. Years of sleeping alone had made me accustomed to wearing only underwear and a shirt to bed. When Bruce and I first started sleeping together, I tried to start sleeping in pajama pants or shorts, but it was so uncomfortable that I'd squirm at night, trying to adjust. Bruce got fed up once and damn near torn my shorts off in an attempt to stop me from moving. We didn't go back to sleep that night.

Slowly pulling on the legs of my pants, I lifted my ass slightly and he pulled them off completely, tossing them with the rest of his clothes before he crawled into bed. Large, callused fingers wrapped around my hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs. “Can we stay here all day?”

Its daytime, that's right. The drapes in my room are so dark that it looks like night in here. I had no plans, and I doubt Bruce couldn't just cancel anything if he wanted to. Nodding my head, I hummed out a yes and he slid his left arm under my head while the right pulled my leg over his hip. His right hand slid heavily up my hips and back, rubbing up my spine until he nearly completely wrapped around me. This was his favorite way to sleep, a tangled mess of limbs, hands, and 100% skin contact. His icy hands slowly soaked in my body heat, his whole body slowly relaxing under the blankets. Something about the way we were laying, facing each other, wrapped in each other, reminded me of the night I first came here.

Months ago I was pining after this man, desperately searching for some sort of peaceful normal where I got to have my cake and crime fighting too. Now I sleep in his house, and he voluntarily sleeps in my bed rather than his. We spend entire days together planning better things for the city, and entire nights running the streets looking for trouble. Somehow I managed to turn my work friend who I had a life altering rush on into the love of my life. I wouldn’t trade him for the universe.

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Thorin x Witch!Reader 

See Masterlist for chapter listings and descriptions as well as other fics and series I have in progress, requests are always welcomed and let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list :) 

Hahaaaaaa I really like this chapter, its just so.... gah. Cuteness, Thorin and the reader lowkey acting like a couple already, and trolls. What a lovely concoction; please enjoy ~ Error

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, PTSD, Thorin being a simp for the reader, soul-crushing cuteness, Gandalf being a little shit, injuries, mentions of nausea and broken bones, etc etc

That night there was singing. The dwarves had gathered by the hearth, each staring hauntingly into the fire. They sing of that day, when Smaug came and destroyed Dale, when he destroyed the mountain… that day… The more time that passed since then, the more I remembered. In dreams I saw things more clearly, I saw what really happened. I saw the fire, buildings falling all around me, bodies piled in the streets… Nightmares were a recurring problem, and I knew some small things that helped, but they never really went away. Over time it just got… easier. It was better to rationalize that everything I saw was in the past, that it couldn’t hurt me, that it was all over. But it never really was over. It’s never over when Smaug is still alive.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I woke with someone’s hands lightly patting my arm. I had to blink several times to clear the blurry haze of dreams from my eyes, but when I was finally able to focus, I looked up to see Thorin. He gave me such a soft, sad smile before telling me they were getting ready to leave. Nodding blearily, I began mentally preparing to leave when I noticed daylight had only barely glinted through the windows.

Navigating through the small space full of dwarves, I made my way back to my stuff tucked away in a corner. As I situated my bag on my back, tucking my satchel to my side, I noticed that Bilbo was missing from within the mix.

“Thorin…” whispering, not to draw too much attention or disturb anyone, I held my hand out to motion him towards me. “Is he not coming with us?” Thorin sighed heavily, his eyes closing.

“No, I do not believe so. We are down to 14 members.” I sighed. Our odds weren’t great, even with Bilbo. But at least we had the element of surprise because he didn’t smell like a dwarf. Now,

we have nothing, nothing but brute force and maybe Gandalf if he didn’t leave us halfway through.

“Then we leave… maybe he will catch up, change his mind,” Thorin rolled his eyes at this, and I lightly hit him in the chest. “He might! He deserves the chance to change his mind. He’s not like you and I; I came here for you, and you had no choice but to go on this quest for your people. He has a choice; he has a life here that means something to him. And if he stays, if he chooses not to come with us, then we respect his decision.” He tilted his head as he listened to me, watching me with mock offense and astonishment. In truth, no matter how much he’d act like he was upset with me, he knew I was right. And besides, I doubt he could be upset with me for long.

“We are leaving now. If he joins us, then so be it. If he stays here… I will do as you ask.”

Within the hour we had loaded our ponies up with bags and sleeping rolls, and slowly made our way out of Hobbiton. While neither Gandalf nor I rode here he assured me that he told a few of the company members to bring two extra ponies for us, and I was not disappointed with my gray one. She was sweet, clearly well into her age, a bit snappish at the boys but she got on well enough with Myrtle and Minty. Balin called her Fenen. Morning had broken and covered the woods of the Shire in beautiful golden light, flittering down through branches, warming my back.

“Wait! Wait!” The young hobbit came running up behind the group, “I signed it.”

“Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Give him a pony.”

“No, no, no, no. That…that won’t be necessary. Thank you. I’m sure I can keep up on foot. Yeah, I…I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know? Even got as far as Frog Morton once.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, and I don’t think I’ve ever met a frog named Morton, but as I looked back to the hobbit, he was lifted off the ground and placed on a pony. It was like they had practiced it; the action was so precise and seamless.

“Come on, Nori! Pay up!”

“What’s that about?” Bilbo road up beside Gandalf and me.

“Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn’t.”

“And what did you think?”

“Well…” He paused as a small pouch flew in his direction. He caught it effortlessly, gauging the amount by the sound of the coins clicking together, “My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.”

Days passed, and with them the beautiful peace of the shire. We went east, across open plains stretching for miles, the golden hills tumbling ahead, and the land faded into thick pine forests and sharp juts of stone. Night hung heavy over the company. We were tired, not to the point of exhaustion, but definitely tired. We had climbed up a small cliff side, settling ourselves on a vantage point looking over the treetops. While the ground was covered in pine needles, I found a way to roll out my bedroll and lay down without dragging any in with me. I laid on my stomach, cloak rolled up as a makeshift pillow under my chest, my mother’s spell book open in front of me as a flick through the pages. Along the margins, little scribbles, tips, and doodles littered the pages, all in my mother’s handwriting. Time had faded the paper yellow, and the ink was gray instead of black now. The leather cover was faded, the edges worn down and fuzzy, the latch on the front no longer closing completely. I missed her, in a deep, strange way that only comes with losing a parent you loved. I don’t know what drew my attention to him, but I looked up to see Bilbo silently walking up to his pony Myrtle. He gave her an apple, smiling fondly at the small horse and I couldn’t help but grin. No wonder Gandalf loved Hobbits so much; if all of them were like Bilbo, the Shire must be an absolutely wonderful place to live. In the darkness beyond, howling echoed in the distance, disrupting the peaceful silence, and turning it tense.

“What was that?” He looked to Fili and Kili, a bad choice of informants in hindsight.

“Orcs.” Kili whispered, as if merely saying their name would call them to us.

“Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there.” Fili built off the tense atmosphere his brother had created. These two will be the death of me, I swear.

“The lone lands are crawling with them. They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.” Bilbo was afraid, and these two couldn’t seem to get enough enjoyment out of it. They laughed as Bilbo glanced around, terrified that the orcs were closer than they sounded. As cruel as they were for making it out to be a joke, I knew there was some truth to what they said. It had been years, 20 something to be not-so-exact, I had made to mistake of traveling east along the forest river to get to Framsburg, a small town on the edge of the Misty Mountains. It was abandoned now, long since, when the Éothéod left to make their home in the Calenardhon. I didn’t make it far outside the Greenwood before I was attacked. I don’t remember much about it, but there were a lot of them and only one of me. I tell myself I did what I had to, and that’s the truth no matter how you look at it. It was ugly, THEY were ugly, I barely got home afterwards.

“You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?” Thorin spoke up, and I was suddenly reminded that the orcs weren’t close, and that as far as we were concerned, they weren’t our problem. My eye shot up from where I had been staring at the ground. Thorin was pacing across the camp, making his way to the edge of the cliff.

“Ara nín… please.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kili lowered his eyes, guilt written across both of their faces.

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” He was being harsh, and I don’t blame him, but it reminds me how much he’s changed. I always see him as the young prince sneaking through the city, desperately trying to swoon the naïve little witch he’s guiding. It’s not fair to him, I know. Thorin has grown as a person and a king, to see him as anything less would be an insult.

“Don’t mind him, laddie.” Balin spoke from his place by the fire. “Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began...by beheading the king.” For the first time, I was hearing the story that started it all 56 years ago. “Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed...we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him. A young Dwarf prince facing down the pale Orc.” This wouldn’t have been too long after Dale. He still would have looked the same as before. “He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. And our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then ‘there- there is one who I could follow. There is one...I could call king’.” A stunned silence followed, a reverence for everything Thorin had done for all of us, for his people. Bilbo broke the silence, finally.

“And the Pale Orc? What happened to him?” I looked to Thorin before looking to Gandalf. Something about the way the old man’s eyes darkened told me that we didn’t want to know.

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago.” Thorin walked back to his bedroll, passing mine as he did, and he looked down at me with tired eyes. He swept the foot closest to me out to the side, gently brushing my elbow as he did, and I smiled only a little. I guess that was enough because he also began to smile just a little too. That night, the darkness around us seemed alive, violent, like the air itself was trying to crawl into camp and suffocate us. The next couple of days consumed us in thick pines and narrow paths. And rain. So…much…rain. I was never a fan of being IN the rain. Sure, it was beautiful, and quite peaceful at times, but being IN the rain, freezing and dripping with a runny nose and no feeling in my fingers, this was not ideal.

“Here, Mr. Gandalf? Can’t you do something about this deluge?” Dori piped up from the near end of the party trail. We were all soaked, hoods up but not doing much anymore. I wish I had done something, cast a spell to keep us dry, or perhaps enchanted our cloaks to keep us dry, but little could be done when it rains for 4 days straight.

“It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done! If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.” Gandalf was far ahead, riding near Thorin and Dwalin in the front.

“Are there any?”  

“What?”

“Other wizards?”

“There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, The White. Then there are the two blue wizards. Do you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names.”

“And who is the fifth?”

“Well, that would be Radagast, The Brown.”

“Is he a great wizard or is he…more like you?”

“I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the East, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.” He slowed his horse to ride alongside mine. He lowered his head, leaning over to whisper.

“My dear, I must ask something of you.” By his tone, I immediately looked over to Thorin. He was far ahead, leading us forward, and there was little chance he’d hear us from back here.

“Mithrandir, why are you whispering? There is no secret worth keeping from him, you know that.”

“Yes, well, this is more of… a favor. Because we both know how stubborn he can be, and his distaste of Elves will be a hindrance soon enough.” Now this caught my attention.

“What does this have to do with the Elves?” He pulled the map to the mountain from his pocket.

“I may or may not… have asked for Bilbo to borrow this from Thorin last evening. You still read Sindarin, Quenya, and some ancient Dwarvish, yes?” I was fluent in the common tongue as well as Sindarin, the dialect of the Elves of the Greenwood, however my Quenya was iffy at best and I could only read ancient Dwarvish, not speak it.

“I don’t understand what that has to do with this, it’s written in modern Dwarvish, not any dialect of Elvish.”

“Yes, but there are hidden pieces to this map, and I believe there may have been some Elvish tricks used to hide them.”

“So, you want me to try and decode this? Wouldn’t it be better to stop at Rivendell? It’s along our way and would make things a lot easier.” He sighed.

“Thorin will not go to Rivendell, not of his only volition anyhow. No, it would be best if you could decode the map yourself.” I sighed, tucking the map into my cloak.

“I will try, but I make no guarantee of success.” He nodded, seemingly pleased, and rode ahead. This felt like going behind Thorin’s back, but the more I thought about it the less harm I found there. I was helping, I had convinced myself, and as long as I was helping and not hindering then maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. That evening we stopped at an abandoned farm some miles up the hillside. Moss and vines had grown wild over the broken stones, the roof heavy with shattered wooden planks.

“We’ll camp here for the night. Fi­li, Ki­li, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.”

“A farmer and his family used to live here.” Gandalf muttered, examining the remains of the house. If I didn’t see the house for myself, I would have thought he meant recently. 

“Oin, Gloin, get the fire going.”

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley.” I knew Gandalf would try to convince Thorin to go to the Elves. 

“I’ve told you already. I will not go near that place.” 

“Why not? The Elves could help us, we could get food, rest, advice.” I placed my things down on the ground, kicking my bag to keep it from tipping over. I wouldn’t mind going to see Elrond, I had not seen him in a long long time. 

“I do not need their advice.” Never mind. 

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father.” I felt a punch in my gut at that. Thranduil was the one who abandoned him, not Elrond. 

“You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past.” 

“I did not know they were yours to keep.” Gandalf left in a huff, stomping away without a word of where he was going. Thorin moved on from the conversation entirely. He kept giving out assignments, making sure food was going, the ponies were taken care of, etc. My legs were killing me from the ride, but I approached him all the same. 

“Ara nín…” He turned to me, and his eyes lit. The way he had to look down slightly to meet my eyes gave me a chill. I need to stay focused. 

“You heard us then,” I nodded. “I know the elves are like kin to you, but I cannot go to them. They will try to stop us…” 

“Or they will aid us.” He rolled his eyes at me, but I ignored it. “Gandalf is trying to guide you to Rivendell, to Lord Elrond. He is a good man, a great man even, who has aided others in Middle Earth so many times. He was a good friend of Durin the 4th, he knew his children and his wife, Disa. Elrond is my friend, he will be yours as well, but you must trust me.” 

“My Lady…. I trust you, but I do not trust elves.” I felt the conversation slowly die and I knew I could not convince him… so I pulled the map from my pocket. His eyes went wide with confusion and shock, but thankfully not anything close to betrayal.

“Don’t be alarmed, Seronil, Gandalf had Bilbo lift it from you a few days back. He asked that I investigate it, try and find its secrets that may have been invisible to the eye. Thorin…” He was so close to me, a few inches between our chests, and his eyes were soft again as I looked up at him. “There is hidden text, but I cannot see it. I know you hate them, but if there is a chance we come across the Elves, even by accident, I beg that you take advantage of their tools and knowledge. I could not do it, but maybe they can.” He sighed but lifted his hand to brush my jawline with his knuckles.

“I will do what you ask, but do not hold it against me if I retain my distaste for them.” I sighed with a smile. Only a dwarf could be this stubborn, truly.

“Is he coming back? He’s been a long time.” We turned to look at Bilbo, who was watching in the direction that Gandalf left with growing anxiety.

“He’s a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here. Do us a favor, take this to the lads,” Bofur reassured him, but I saw it didn’t ease Bilbo’s nerves in the slightest. Quicker than a flash, Bofur turned and smacked Bombur’s hand away from the pot, “Stop it, you’ve had plenty.”

“C’mon,” I laughed a little, “Lets eat. There will be time for talk of your distain for elves later.” He smiled, and it was a tired, happy smile that I could imagine seeing only late in the evenings, after a long day. The kind that I’d look up and see as he crosses the doorway into the room, his eyes brightening as he sees I stayed awake, waiting. Heat moves up my neck straight to my ears. I’m getting too ahead of myself. Far, far too ahead of myself. We sat together, eating and speaking of times we lost while apart. I spoke of my times in the forest, dedicating every moment I could spare to expanding my abilities. I elected to keep the fact that I became a horrible recluse during that time to myself. He spoke of his time traveling with his people, moving from place to place, working where he could. He spoke highly of many of those he met along the way, those who helped his people where they could or offered them work for decent pay. The other members of the company recalled their own stories, and even reminisced about their families they would return home to see. Then, Balin began recalling Erebor, the great city under the mountain, the glittering emerald halls, the mines burning so bright you could feel the warmth from anywhere in the city, and the beauty that the dwarves dedicated to their homes. I found myself lost in the wonder of what Erebor must look like, and suddenly felt sick. I felt robbed, without having a right to feel robbed in any way. Erebor must be such a glorious place and it was taken and destroyed before I ever got to see it. I wonder if Thorin would have walked with me through the thousands of halls like he did in Dale. I wonder what kind of people we might have been if Smaug had never shown up. I would have continued to wonder, if not for the sound of Fili and Kili dashing into camp.

“Trolls!! Irak’Adad! Irak’Amad! Trolls have taken the ponies!” Thorin was on his feet within seconds, and he rallied the others as well.

“Weapons! Now!” time felt like it was moving too fast, and suddenly we were all running at three, very large, trolls. Ducking past Dwalin as he swung his ax high, I moved my hand in a sweeping motion, starting from holding it straight out in front of me and ending directly to my side. A small blade that had been dropped to the ground stuck itself into the ankle of the troll closest to me. He stumbled back, shrieking and making a weird squealing sound, and in his flailing he knocked into one of his brothers. I didn’t see it, in hindsight, but I probably wouldn’t have been able to avoid it either. An arm the size of a large horse hit me and knocked me into a tree, crushing my ribs and causing my head to snap forward into the bark. Rolling to the ground, the stillness that followed was soothing in a way. Nothing moved, and not moving was preferable. After a few seconds, the stillness became nausea became the dizzy spinning sensation as I tried to push myself off the ground.

“Lay down your arms! Or we’ll rip his off!” Bilbo was above the fire, arms pulled out in either direction, and with a great huff every dwarf threw down his weapon. Still holding Bilbo hostage, they picked each one of us up and put us into what looked like Potato sacks. I was still trying to stand when a large hand grabbed the back of my head and lifted me up in the air before dropping me into a sack. Being dropped like that made my stomach turn and  my head hurt way worse. They didn’t have enough for everyone, but I was lucky to get my own. I was tossed down onto the ground near the others, and if I tilted my head back far enough, I could just barely see Thorin. Everything was still so blurry, and my chest hurt when I tried to breathe.

“Don’t bother cooking ’em! Let’s just sit on 'em and squash ’em into jelly!” Gross. Gross, gross, gross. I tried to stop listening, tried to think of a way to get out of this. If I could, I’d cut our binds, but even moving my shoulder hurt.

“Wait! You are making a terrible mistake.” Bilbo was standing in his own potato sack, hopping around and talking with the trolls. “I mean with the…uh, with the…with the seasoning.” I understand he’s trying, at least he’s putting up the effort to be cunning in the face of being turned to food. But arguing about the type of seasoning was not a good start.

“What about the seasoning?”

“Well, have you smelt them? You’re gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!” This was hardly the time to be offended, but nearly every dwarf, including those spinning on the spike above the fire, began yelling about how they don’t smell and how rude Bilbo was being. I couldn’t bring myself to disagree with him though. I had spent weeks with these men, and I could attest to the nasty smell we were all slowly accumulating.

“What do you know bout cooking dwarf?”

“Shut up, and let the…uh, flurgerburbur-hobbit talk.” I felt shock, like my heart was falling into my stomach but in reverse. Maybe they would listen to him.

“It’s, uh…” No… no don’t hesitate now.

“Tell us the secret!”

“Ye-yes, I’m telling you. The secret is…to…skin them first!” Oh, Vanar help us. He was going to kill us faster.

“Tom, get me filleting knife.”

“What a load of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scoff ’em I say, boots and all!”

“He’s right! Nothing wrong with a bit o’ raw dwarf. Nice and crunchy.”

“Uh…not…not that one, he…he’s infected!”

“You what?”

“Yeah, he’s got worms in his…tubes.” That… was worse. That was so much worse, it’s a wonderful plan, but the concept of worms in tubes was just… worse. “In-in fact, they all have. They’re infested with parasites, it’s a terrible business, I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

“Parasites? Did he say parasites?” Oin spoke up from behind me. The others began protesting loudly, contradicting Bilbo’s claims, and I felt hope die a little inside me. If the stubborn pride of dwarves is what kills me today, I swear I’ll never forgive any of them. Suddenly they all stopped talking altogether, and after a quick pause began agreeing with Bilbo.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!”

“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got huge parasites!”

“We’re riddled! -”

“Yes, I’m riddled!”

“What would you have us do then? Let ’em all go?” The largest of the trolls asked, wiping his hand under his nose.

“Well…”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to. This little ferret is taking us for fools!” Damn it, this one actually had some brains. Our transformation into tonight’s dinner began again and the shouting and jostling was making me sick.

“The dawn will take you all!” Looking up, Gandalf was standing atop the great stone behind the trolls, his staff raised. He brought it down into the stone and cracked it in half, light glaring though the two halves. The trolls screamed in pain, trying to shield themselves from the sunlight as it turned them to stone. In seconds the trolls were nothing more than statues, and the danger had passed. Wiggling out of our potato sacks was a slow process, and I elected to sit and try to fix myself. I heard Gandalf walking near and looked up just as he kneeled beside me.

“Hello my dear.”

“If I could lift my arm, I would smack you.”

“Ah,” he chuckled, “Let’s see what’s the matter.” He lifted his hand with his palm towards me and let it hover where my collarbone would be.

“What is wrong, is she hurt?” Thorin was on the other side of the mayhem and he still managed to notice that I wasn’t standing like the rest of them.

“Just some cracked ribs and a small head injury. How in the world did you manage this though?”

“I was thrown into a tree. Where were you?”

“I had gone to look ahead.” He wheezed as he stood to his full height. Thorin walked over and offered me his hand. I wrapped my hand around his arm, crossing our forearms together, and he pulled me to my feet.

“Sanâzyung…” He moved his hand up to my shoulder, looking down at me as he assessed what he could not see. He turned to the wizard. “What brought you back?”

“Looking behind,” He went to poke one of the stone trolls with his staff. “Nasty business. Still, they all are in one piece.”

“No thanks to your burglar.” I kicked Thorin’s foot with barely any effort.

“He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.” He was right. Without Bilbo we’d all be dead, made into barely tolerable food, being eaten by barely tolerable trolls. At least we weren’t dead.

~~~

Some translations for you: 

Ara nín = Sindarin for “My King” 

Seronil = Sindarin for “My love” yes I added this in, Thorin doesn’t speak Sindarin hehe 

Irak’Adad = Khuzdul for Uncle 

Irak’Amad = Khuzdul for Aunt

Sanâzyung = Khuzdul for “Perfect Love”

~~~

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