Tag: hobbit

Khazâd November – Dáin

lferion:

Title: Id-Amzur Ikhbêb (Forge Work)

Fandom: The Hobbit

Rating: T

Length: 2233

Content notes: N/A

Author notes: Thanks go to Zana & Morgynleri for encouragement & sanity-checking. The Making of Dwarves AU. Title means ‘Act of forging work / The Work of Forging’

Written for Khazâd November, but it has taken me until now to finish, since it decided it had a whole AU attached.

On AO3: Id-Amzur Ikhbêb (Forge Work)

Summary:  Dáin has a favor to ask.

Keep reading

Hobbit: Northern Night: The Raven Crown

Because yesterday got me thinking about choice and agency, and I found I hadn’t posted this thing yet, so. @lynati, since you’re the beginning of this AU in the first place. 🙂

The Raven Crown

Fandom: Hobbit
AU: Northern Night
Word Count: 248
Characters: Fíli

Fíli knows his path forward has been chosen already – and choses not to take it.

Fíli cradles the crown in his hands, looking down on the gold and obsidian creation that represented everything he had been told he was to be. The crown that he could not wear. Could not – would not – steal what did not belong to him. What belonged to his uncle.

He draws in a breath past the ice that clutches at his chest at the thought, closing his eyes.

What belongs to Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thror.

His knees hit the stone before he can pull air back into his lungs, cold burning along his veins and through his mind for daring to think what he was not allowed, the crown fallen from nerveless fingers. Fíli smiles, tasting blood at the back of his tongue, leaning forward as he pants, trying to dig his fingers into the stone of the mountain.

He will keep it safe until Thorin returns. Regent and not the puppet-king his Mistress wanted, had intended to make him. No matter the taint worked into his skin and bones and blood.

“I am not your servant.”

His voice scrapes against his throat, the sound lost in the vastness of the throne room, and Fíli arches against the pain of ice in his bones.

“I am Fíli, son of Dis, of the line of Durin.”

Claws rip into his flesh, and a roaring fills his ears that drowns out all else. Let the ink-borne torment destroy him, he will not betray his kin.

lynati:

atheistj:

People: “Tauriel crying over Kili’s body showed her as a weak character.”

ahem.

THEODEN CRIED OVER THEODRED.

FRODO, SAM, MERRY, AND PIPPIN CRIED OVER GANDALF.

BILBO CRIED OVER THORIN.

GIMLI CRIED OVER BALIN.

SAM CRIED OVER FRODO.

EOMER CRIED OVER EOWYN.

LITERALLY EVERYONE CRIES.

FUCK THE IDEA THAT WOMEN WHO SHOW EMOTION ARE WEAK.

It showed she genuinely gave a damn. Her crying over him made me care more about their “relationship” than pretty much any moment that came before it.

Grass-stained wool, for the title prompt?

For this. I’m still taking more.

Mm. Tolkien, a five-times sort of fic. Éowyn as a child getting her tunics grass stained while learning to ride a horse. Arwen in the last years of her life, staining the knees of her gowns as she works in a garden. Sigrid during the rebuilding of Dale, working in the fields with everyone else. Tauriel between the Battle of Five Armies and the War of the Ring, traveling Middle Earth. Dis, making a home of the Blue Mountains.

floridecuts:

http://floridecuts.deviantart.com/

——————

First picture for the new year.~ Last time it was Fili as King under the mountain, now have an archer Kili! :3

I hope you will all have a good year 2017!~ 🙂

This
picture is based on an old sketch I did over a year ago and never
finished. I did a few alternate color versions as well and it was hard
to choose between them. XD Maybe I’ll upload my second favorite as well
later.

Hope you like it!~ ^-^

Are you still taking prompts for Khazid November even though it’s December? Can you write about about Ori being scared on his first day of school?

judayre:

Ori was the only child approaching the building alone.  Dori had been up half the night cleaning and mending, but he had to work at the shop and couldn’t bring his young nephew to his first day of school.

Ori was wearing new clothes – Dori had saved for months to get the school fees and was still wearing his old, threadbare clothes so that Ori could have something new.  He had ribbons wound into his braids, and a few old Erebor beads in his hair, gleaming from the shining Dori had given them.

He clutched his writing box – another old Erebor thing.  Dori had fretted and wanted to buy him something new, but they wouldn’t have been able to afford anything half as good.  And Ori liked the old one.  He liked feeling that connection to something far larger.  Dori had used this writing box as long as Ori had been alive, and it had been his mother’s before that.  Ori had learned his letters holding the pen in this box, exchanging bright nibs of different sizes.

And now he would go to school and learn more.  And oh, he was looking forward to it.  But he was the only child alone.  And even in new clothes, the social and economic difference between him and his new classmates was obvious.  He wished Dori would have started work later.  He never minded stares when Dori held his hand and walked with him.  But all he could do was hug his writing box close and try to avoid notice.