There had to be someone else who was capable, no matter what Dís said. Thorin had things to do. They were barely settled in the Blue Mountains. There were still ongoing negotiations with the Men and Dwarves who lived there. There were homes to set up, work to find, food to store. All things he needed to be seeing to as the leader of their people in his father’s absense. He didn’t have time to babysit.
He looked down at Fíli, so small and soft in his calloused hands. (It was nothing like what he remembered of being allowed to tote Frerin or Dís around when he was small.) He growled his annoyance and the baby just cooed back at him.
In the early refugee camps, Thorin had often gotten put in charge of the children. Thráin had quickly discovered that he had the knack for keeping them encouraged and getting them to do their part. Thorin had loved it, and secretly mourned growing into more adult roles. But the fact remained that he wasn’t that child anymore.
Fíli grabbed his thumb and blinked wide blue eyes at him.
Thorin looked around suspiciously to make sure they were really alone and then stuck his tongue out to make the baby laugh.
Tag: fíli
Snippet: Tolkien: Flame of Durin: Burning Bright
Because I did get words yesterday afternoon, so there is a snippet for today.
AU: Flame of Durin
Story: Burning Bright
Chapter 4, Scene 2
Characters: Ráva, Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli
He has scarce a day to rest after returning, taking the time to listen to the mountain, before he is expected to be present for Thorin’s afternoon audiences. That it begins with a brief report of an orc spotted on Ravenhill – a lone orc is improbable, and like to be only bait for a trap – makes Ráva’s lips twitch with frustrated amusement. It is tempting to offer his assistance, but he cannot simply leave, for all that he wishes nothing to do with the games of politics.
A runner comes from Dáin, bringing with them pieces of armor that make him think of whispery shadows and winter chill. Danger beyond the black lacquer and spikes that give gauntlets, vambraces, and helm an orcish flair. There is something almost familiar in the rattling feathers of the helm, and the shape of it that is unlike any orc helm he’s seen before.
Movement draws his attention away from the pieces laid out, to see where Fíli has taken a step closer to Thorin, a troubled frown on his face.
“Uncle.” Fíli’s voice is barely loud enough for Ráva to hear, and he thinks he would not hear it if he hadn’t stepped closer to Thorin himself. “Something is… wrong with those armor pieces.”
No one else has voiced such, but Ráva can see the frowns and worry from all of them, speaking to the depths of the darkness that rolls off the pieces of armor. The helm is the worst of them, but it is only by a small margin that it is.
“Yes, very wrong.” Thorin’s words hold satisfaction, a small pride that Fíli is able to see there is more than just the spiked and blackened appearance to the armor to speak of ill intent. “It is well you perceive it.”
Ráva takes another step closer to Thorin, settling himself in his favored place at Thorin’s feet as if the afternoon were over and there were none but friends about. Firmly between Thorin and the table – between the princes and the table, as well – as deeply ingrained instincts scream he must not stand aside here, even if Thorin might wish him to. “There is something familiar, but not, about them. Like childhood nightmares half-remembered.”
He draws a breath, resting one hand flat on the floor as he unearths memories he has rarely needed. Weaving starlight and adamant in a manner he has rarely done, as a shield wall, protecting more than himself without preventing the reach of those behind it to what he defends from. Protecting so that others may unmake what needs destroyed, or do what they will otherwise.
Palatte Challenge: #152, Fíli, if you’re up for something other than Star Wars?
Hobbit; Nori/Fíli; The First Kiss
Also dedicated to @ibijau, who likes the pairing.
The first time was a trap. Nori had seen Fíli looking at his younger brother. And if there was one thing he and Dori agreed on, it was that no one was good enough for Ori.
So he’d come on to the prince, to see what kind of man he was – would he be one to treat Ori well if they were together (which, of course, they wouldn’t be). And also to see if he’d take that kind of bait. If he would cheat on someone as good as Ori (and if he ever hurt Ori, Nori was fully prepared to commit regicide).
The golden prince was younger than he was and swayed shyly into him when propositioned. Nori kissed him hungrily, aggressively. Fíli gripped him tightly, but opened under him so sweet and obedient. He looked up at Nori afterward, breath heaving, eyes filled with wonder, his lips curling into an amazed smiled.
“Nori,” he breathed. "I never thought… Never thought you’d want me….“
Nori raised a brow, used to not showing confusion. "Ori?”
“Too good for Kíli, but he seems to like him anyway.” Fíli was still looking at him with that smile, hands running up Nori’s arms to meet behind is neck.
The second kiss was better than the first. The third was better than that. Then Nori stopped counting.
*rolls about in feels and glee some more*
When you see this, share 3 lines from a WIP
jedi-goldberry-with-the-force:
Aidan didn’t know how to explain how much he wanted that. Wanted Dean to be free to take whatever he wanted, for Dean to be able to let go and lose himself. Aidan wanted to be able to give Dean everything; wanted Dean to be able to take until he couldn’t stop, take until he was drunk with it.
At 3, his mom texts him to start dinner. Tyler is loathe to leave his chair for multiple reasons, the foremost being that he still feels like death. And then because he’s afraid – for some reason – that blue-haired boy will wake up while he’s gone.
The thought of them made the worry that had been churning in his stomach since the attack rise up again. He had yet to hear from either of them, that call was organised for the next morning, but the head of their personal security team who had helped them flee from their home had assured him they were safe, as well as making sure Jim himself had gone to ground while the police tried to find whoever had orchestrated such an elaborate scheme the attack had obviously been.
One thing
was certain, though, it would be better to bring him home, instead of allowing
him to sit on the cold stone floor, with dwarves in the tavern that could leave
any minute and spot the omega in an everything but flattering position.“Kíli,” he
began to speak slowly, assuming that it was far more sensible to tell the
brunet what he was about to do, than just grabbing him. “I’m going to help you
up and bring you back to your chambers.”Belladonna
Baggins, nee Took, had been adamant to teach Bilbo all she knew about the Green
Gift, and ignored her husband’s wringed hands and exasperated sighs whenever
she told Bilbo to repair a broken toy himself or heal a cut on her finger. It
turned out that young Bilbo was an eager student, and each of his fingertips
soon had permanent scars from all the times he pricked them.“It’s a way to remind you”, Belladonna once
said, when young Bilbo asked her why she wouldn’t heal his hurting fingers, “that
we cannot use the Green Gift on ourselves, and have to be careful with whom we
share it.”It was late, well past Ori’s bedtime, and Nori was glad that he had had the wherewithal to remember to call Dori and say that he would be home late and not to wait up, all before his phone had died. He had grumbled about forgetting his charger at home and Bofur had apologized for having a different model phone and a charger that wasn’t compatible. Nori had shrugged after the initial grumbling, and they continued to watch movies and throw microwave popcorn at each other.
Between the Iron Hills dwarves and Tauriel another elf fidgeted, flipping a gilt pin nervously through her fingers. Her gaze kept twitching towards the empty chair, as if she could will her king into the room. Instead she kept catching the eye of Bard, who in turn chewed his lip and glanced at his chosen council.
For those of you who were following my adventures in writing porn
cut for NSFW
Ahsoka hovered uncertainly by the couch, before making up
her mind and sitting down, wrapping her arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and curling
up. Obi-Wan startled at the contact, and looked down at her, blinking, as if he
wasn’t quite sure who she was, or why she was touching him, but then he relaxed
and pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin and closing his eyes.He wanted
to yell, wanted to scream and rage at the emptiness in his mind, in his heart,
but he couldn’t summon up the energy to do anything more complicated than
breathe.It was one of the first traditions of the GAR that any brother who found a civilian portrayal of clone life was responsible for sharing it with everyone else. Mostly these portrayals were funny; some of them sad; very few of them were accurate.
It was Waxer and Boil who were widely considered to have been the most successful at this tradition: Boil, because he’d found the porn, and Waxer because he’d helpfully cut it together into a greatest hits for easy distribution.
Cut for not-really-pr0n-yet
But amidst the sea of white armor, brown hair, and stern faces, Venge noticed something – a single man with short-cropped, violently blonde hair. He felt the change in Qui-Gon’s Force signature as the other man noticed it as well, and the Jedi Master murmured, “I wonder what his story is.”
With a snort, Venge said, “It’s obvious, Qui-Gon – that’s the only thing he can control.”
Oh my GODS as if you didn’t have me hooked enough already.
*firmly reminds self this is an AU, this is VENGE’S AU, and many of the characters play together very differently*
*IS VERY VERY EXCITED NO MATTER HOW THINGS HAPPEN*
And now, fic to excuse rebageling:
He
kept the Darkness
under wraps during yet another battle with Grievous, though the anger
beat against his control with each saber strike, every death of the
501st
and 212th
that he could feel. Anakin and Councilor
Coleman Kcaj were off taking care of the munitions depot, which meant
Grievous was Obi-Wan’s problem. In the meantime, Commanders Cody
and Fives
were more than capable of directing the clones’ portion of the
fray.
“He might have one day become a general, if he’d lived. Given more years, and successful campaigns to his name. Perhaps conquered a fortress to make his own, as Azog and my other general have done.”
“Erebor will never be controlled by orcs,” Fíli hisses, voice fierce with conviction. “Never.”
There's a Mirror on the Wall 