Tag: bagginshield

ahiddenkitty:

Fictober Day 4

“Will that be all?”

Balin peers over the stack of paperwork in his arms, all now given the royal signature, but the humour does not seem to have been intended.  Thorin looks worn.  His desk is no less busy than it was three hours before, for all the myriad documents Balin will now carry away.

“Aye, your Majesty, that’ll do for now.  Consider yourself dismissed,” says Balin cheerfully.

Thorin shoots him a sharp look that softens almost at once.  He chuckles, low and rueful, and reaches again for the crown (of his own forging, silver and steel) that rests beside the inkwell, weighing it in his hands.  “I am awaited by the Baker’s Guild,” he says, half to himself, and lifts it to his head.

Gently, Balin reaches out a hand to stop him, laying it against the broad shoulder.  “Thorin,” he says.  “You serve your people, but you are their King, not at their beck and call.  I can deal with the Bakers.”  

Reluctantly, it seems, Thorin looks up to meet his oldest advisor’s gaze.  “I should…” he begins.

“The Prince Consort informed me this morning that he would be in his gardens all afternoon, and was not to be disturbed with matters of state,” continues Balin, as if his King had not spoken.  “He said a sunny day so late in the year was not to be missed.  I imagine he could fancy a hand with all that… whatever it is he does there.”

It’s the only ploy that always works, and Balin will forever use it shamelessly.  It’s worth the expression on Thorin’s face, of a deep, sincere happiness that Balin remembers well enough from when his own husband still lived.  It takes years off, and Thorin rises from his seat as if he does not know he is doing it.  “I will… yes.  Very well.  Thank you, Balin,” he says, walking away at a pace just a little too fast to be wholly dignified.

Hiding a smile in his beard, Balin heads out of the chamber, down the wide steps of the Royal Quarters towards the Guild Halls.  He is thinking of hot sausage-meat pastries, and perhaps a few sugared cinnamon buns.  Dealing with the Bakers Guild has its own perks, after all.

–

Fictober: A Month of Prompts

Day 1: “Can you feel this?”
Day 2: “People like you have no imagination.”
Day 3: “How can I trust you?”

shipsicle:

Journey The mysterious disappearance of Thorin ll Oakenshield and the hobbit Bilbo Baggins

It was a curious thing. Both Thorin ll Oakenshield and the hobbit burglar Bilbo Baggins were said to have fallen in the infamous Battle of the Five Armies, leaving Fíli son of Dís to be crowned King of Erebor. It is curious that both their deaths seems to have been announced only three weeks after the battle was done, when King Fíli was crowned by his uncle. There have been reports of two travelers bearing a striking resemblance to the deceased, originating from all over Middle Earth, though the credibility of these reports is uncertain even if their quantity is remarkable.

It was curious indeed.

serenbach86:

I really like the idea of dwarves thinking that the story of Bilbo and Thorin is The Most Romantic Thing Ever – after all, there is honour and battles and life-saving and near deathbed confessions and all that good stuff. I just really like the idea of lovesick young dwarves (even though a lot of dwarves are happy alone there has to be a few) looking at them and sighing because will they ever find some One who looks at them the way the king looks at his consort?

And I like the idea of when they retire to the Shire, the reaction is much the same from the hobbits (even if there is the occasional scandalised remark about dwarves and adventures) and heartsick young hobbits sometimes wonder if they’ll ever find someone who looks at them the way old Mister Baggins looks at his husband.

I just like the idea of them being obviously and soppily in love and happy to the end of their days, I guess.

Fictober

ahiddenkitty:

I normally don’t enter these things unless I’ve already got at least a third of them already written.  This time, I have half of tomorrow’s idea and that’s all.  We’ll see if I manage to keep it up… (it’s doubtful, friends)

Fictober: A Month of Prompts

Day 1

“Can you feel this?”

Bilbo hummed, in a manner intended to be both appreciative and noncommittal. He lay half reclined against soft, shaggy goatskins and tapestry pillows, with his abandoned book still open on the nightstand beside him. If he lolled his head back just right and squinted, he could even still read it.

“Bilbo, my love,” said Thorin.

Bilbo hummed again.  He had just reached an interesting bit of analysis on the different implications between talas and tallunë in Quenya.

“Bilbo.”

This time he looked up.  His feet lay in his husband’s lap, and it appeared Thorin was jabbing his thumb repeatedly into the arch of one foot, a distinctly quizzical look on his face.  If Bilbo concentrated, he could just about feel it.

“Ah,” said Bilbo guiltily.  Thorin regarded the foot with something like wonder, and jabbed it again.  

“Yes, yes all right,” said Bilbo, sitting up and squirming back on the heavy silk bedspread until he was out of reach.  “Point made, thank you, yes.  Look, you – you said it would be romantic.  I felt it would be churlish to refuse.  Thorin, I can’t help it if I don’t have delicate Dwarf toes.”

“Delicate,” repeated Thorin.  He sat at the end of their enormous royal bed in his night-clothes, his long hair tied back for sleep, and looked rather crestfallen.

Bilbo frowned, twitching his nose in thought.  “Tell you what,” he suggested.  “I’ll admit, this foot massage business doesn’t do anything for me, but if it’s a thing for you Dwarves, well then, why don’t I have a go at doing it for you?  Hmm?”

At the mere suggestion his husband brightened instantly.  A blush suffused his skin like the breaking of a Spring dawn, and suddenly the whole ridiculous pantomime made sense at last.  

“You great fool,” said Bilbo fondly, lifting one of Thorin’s dear, soft little feet up onto the bed.  “You could have just asked.”