Tag: hobbit

Mini Nano Day 1

Lucky

AU: Combined AUs (Flame of Durin, Gaearon Rhûnen, No Shield For My Soul, Northern Night)
Word Count: 100
Characters: Bofur, Binur (OC, Bofur’s father)
Timeframe: After Azanulbizar

When the survivors return from the last battle against the orcs at Khazad-Dûm, Bofur searches the faces for those of his kin who had left so many years before. No one, not in the first or the second groups. There are more still coming, they tell him, with the King, and all he can do is hope.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to his father standing in the doorway with a candle, watching with quiet relief. Alive.

“Our kin all lived.” Binur smiles, tired, bitter and proud all at once. “Even Thorin was not so lucky.”

Hobbit: Flame of Durin: Burning Bright

Burning Bright (49421 words) by Morgyn Leri

Chapters: 3/?
Fandom: The Hobbit – All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin, Bifur, Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf, Thranduil, Legolas, Bofur, Bombur, Óin, Balin, Dain, Dori, Ráva (OMC), Vorkha (OMC), Hrafn (OMC), Síndri (OFC), Tílithluin (OFC), Sûlclaur (OMC), Kai (OMC), Kellen (OMC), Hvityr (OC), Tyrran (OMC)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe – Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Aftermath of battle, battlefield medicine, Snark, Humor, Angst, Women Being Awesome, Dwarf Women, POV Original Character, Cultural Differences, Politics and Diplomacy, Avari, non-sexual nudity, chosen family, Oaths and Bindings, Orcs, Canon-Typical Violence, Unreliable Narrator, GFY

Series: Part 1 of Flame of Durin

After the Battle of Five Armies, Thorin collapses next to an unexpected ally, expecting that he won’t wake again. When he does, he has to deal with a cranky, snarky elf – excuse me, avari – politics and diplomacy that he’d thought he’d left for others, and learning to be King Under the Mountain in fact as well as name.

Ráva – said avari – is quite happy to watch, and be a pain in Thorin’s neck, though this is the first he’s met Thorin (or, indeed, any of the line of Durin). Even if being around Thorin does leave his head feeling rather like he’s the anvil for a particularly sadistic smith.

Unfinished, yes, but currently almost 50k, with the fourth chapter having slowed down a lot because there’s a lot that happens in the timeframe, but not a huge amount where Ráva is going to take notice. But there are others who do, so there’s figuring out what happens, and how much of it Ráva’s going to see, and how much he’s going to care about.

The first three chapters get them from The Battle of Five Armies almost to mid-winter. The next one might get them halfway to spring.

Tolkien: Flame of Durin: Vigil

morgynleri:

Vigil

AU: Flame of Durin
Word Count: 578
Characters: Ráva (OC), Thorin Oakenshield (dead), Dwalin
Timeframe: March 3019 Third Age

Warnings: Reference to major character death

The world fades away beneath the beat of the heart of the Mountain, fire and Flame dancing a tune that roars through his mind in counterpoint to his grief. He leans against the foot of the tomb, ignoring the ache of wounds that stubbornly refuse to heal, eyes closed against the physical world. Others come and go, guttering candles and steady lamps, but none disturb him.

A fading candle echoes his vigil at another tomb, though he will soon enough be alone in the deep crypts save when someone comes to leave a meal or drink. He eats and drinks when they do, to not worry them too greatly, but does not move, not yet. His vigil over the body of a dear friend, as he had not had the chance in battle.

You would have fallen to defend a life already ending.

Keep reading

16 and 20 for the fic ask meme?

16. Do you have structured ideas of how your story is supposed to go, or make it up as you write?

A little of both. I usually have an idea where I want things to go generally, and the details in between where I start and where it goes tend to be made up as I go. Sometimes involving the story sprouting subplots and side stories that I’m not expecting or intending.

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

(Ok, so this is a few more than four sentences. Four sets of lines, more like. Because the best bits are better in context than not.)

“My loyalty is still to my captain. I will do what I must to see that he is not perceived as a failure to the rest of the Peacekeepers. Even if that costs me my reputation and my life in the end.” – Lieutenant Teeg to Captain Crais; Teeg’s Choice, Chapter Two: Present

So the news of the day becomes stories of the past, stories become legends, legends become myths. The world changes and grows and reaches for the stars, brilliant and blazing defiance of the old order. And if somewhere in those who work to that end, there are heroes and villians vying against each other, who can say? For the world knows the gods are real, no better or worse than the rest of humanity, save they live beyond the span of mortal years. – So All Passed Into Myth, and the Gods Walk Among Us; Story 30/30 of Lies, Misdirection, and Terrible Truth

“The next time I think to take up a dwarrow on the offer of an adventure to fetch his wayward war-master home, I’ll think twice on the offer and refuse.” Ráva doesn’t even bother to open his eyes, leaning against a boulder that had been his shield a couple of times in the battle he’d not intended to walk into. At least he’d come out the other side still in one piece, and Vorkha wouldn’t have to explain to his brother just how four thousand years of life had been ended by a wayward band of orcs.

Well. A wayward army of orcs.

– the beginning of Burning Bright, Chapter One: To Weather the Storm

These are the children of the seiðmaðr who was oath-brother to the rúnatýr. These are the ones bound in the blood of the Valföðr, who walks undying upon Midgard with raven-hair bound with feathers. These are the instruments of Ragnarøkkr, the deaths of the gods and the remaking of the world.

So listen, all you who hear me, and heed.

– the end of Valföðr, a Highlander story written for hlh_shortcuts in 2013

Tolkien: Flame of Durin: Vigil

Vigil

AU: Flame of Durin
Word Count: 578
Characters: Ráva (OC), Thorin Oakenshield (dead), Dwalin
Timeframe: March 3019 Third Age

Warnings: Reference to major character death

The world fades away beneath the beat of the heart of the Mountain, fire and Flame dancing a tune that roars through his mind in counterpoint to his grief. He leans against the foot of the tomb, ignoring the ache of wounds that stubbornly refuse to heal, eyes closed against the physical world. Others come and go, guttering candles and steady lamps, but none disturb him.

A fading candle echoes his vigil at another tomb, though he will soon enough be alone in the deep crypts save when someone comes to leave a meal or drink. He eats and drinks when they do, to not worry them too greatly, but does not move, not yet. His vigil over the body of a dear friend, as he had not had the chance in battle.

You would have fallen to defend a life already ending.

Ráva snorts softly, listening to the voice that whispers at the edges of his mind. He remembers the tales Haldasîcil told of Durin’s voice still bothering him in dreams. His friend reminding him that he will never truly be gone.

“I am not that easy to kill, otorno.” He is that easy to read, though, and he would not have readily let go of Thorin, mortal though he is. Let him go in the end, for what can he do when mortal lives are severed, but at least he would have been there at the end. “I should not have gone.”

I gave you no choice, and I would do it again.

A quiet sigh, and Ráva tilts his head back a little, as if leaning once more against Thorin’s throne as he often had – and never mind the various disbelieving, irritated, and scandalized looks when those who came from outside Erebor saw him so.

“I know.” It still hurts, that he had been sent from his King’s side at the end. No matter that he’d been of aid to those fighting other sources of evil, that he had survived and lived as Thorin no doubt had intended.

There’s a noise from the outside world, and a light getting closer. Steady lamp flame, one of the close kin to the royal family, accompanied by the stomp of boots.

“Get up.” Dawlin’s voice is rough, and Ráva cracks open one eye to study the dwarf. Grief clear in his face, as well as stubborn insistance. A War Master mourning his King, and looking out for those under his command. Even if Ráva isn’t technically the latter. “No one’s seen hide nor hair of you outside this tomb since you skipped out on the healers.”

“I am in no need of their aid. I will live.” Ráva watches Dwalin for a long moment before he reaches out, letting the dwarf help him to his feet. It would be polite to reassure the others he’s not planning on willing himself to death down here.

You do not need to die to cease to live. I didn’t send you away for you to do one instead of the other.

Ráva lets out a small snort, turning his head to look down at the tomb, the effigy that holds Orcrist, and the blade now laid across the foot of the tomb below that effigy. “Then I will live.”

“Good.” Dwalin is looking at the tomb when Ráva turns back, but only for a moment before he shakes his head, and leaves the crypt, leaving Ráva to follow without a word.

striving-artist:

Today. I stood in Erebor. 

My office got a new, amazing, incredible, mind blowing VR set up this week. Today, I plugged in this room of The Erebor Project, and I got to travel around Erebor. It was beyond surreal. The show looking down off the edge? I actually windmilled my arms, bc I was sure I was about to fall to my death. 

The scope is insane. It is so crazy imposing to be in that space. Also. Emotions. Those happened too. Because it was at work I couldn’t video me wandering and looking around at everything, but guys. This is going to be the coolest thing I do in my life. 

If you want to run around the model. Feel Free. 

(Sketchup is rather easy to learn too.)

As I get more of this built, I am going to start doing fully lit renders, so we have pretty pictures instead of the straight exports. I also have baths and forges and parts of the treasury, plus random bits. In other news, the carved dwarves alongside the walk to the throne? really hard to make. 

@lferion

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.