Hobbit Prompt Post 17 -- CLOSED
PROMPT POST IS CLOSED.
Welcome to the 17th Hobbit Prompt Post!
Guidelines:
Both anon and non-anon posting is allowed. If you think you recognise an anon, keep it to yourself and don't out them. IP tracking is off
Multiple fills are encouraged
Concrit is allowed, but kinkshaming, hijacking, and flaming are not tolerated. There is also no flaming ( Read more... )
Welcome to the 17th Hobbit Prompt Post!
Guidelines:
Both anon and non-anon posting is allowed. If you think you recognise an anon, keep it to yourself and don't out them. IP tracking is off
Multiple fills are encouraged
Concrit is allowed, but kinkshaming, hijacking, and flaming are not tolerated. There is also no flaming ( Read more... )
At the time, Bilbo thought his mother had exaggerated, for she had a love of colorful speech that exceeded any other except, perhaps, the affection she bore for husband and son; Uncle Longo was all smiles at the handfasting, graciously greeting the guests with his blushing bride-to-be on his arm. Were the trials of courtship truly so terrible? Could they turn even so stout a Dwarf as Thorin... dragonish?
But Thorin and-his mind stuttered, shying from the idea-and Bard? Bilbo knew little of how Men and Dwarves went about courting, but he did not feel it likely that their customs were so different from those of Hobbits that suitors wooed their intendeds by insulting them and their ancestors in the town square instead of with sweet endearments whispered in their ears. No, he decided, pinching the bridge of his nose, this had to be a mistake. A misunderstanding or a, a ruse, to stall the Elves from trying the Mountain's defenses maybe.
"Thorin Oakenshield," called Gandalf from below, "I think it's best that you come down for some explanations." To Bilbo's comfort, there was a note of bemusement in Gandalf's voice, too, seldom heard. Behind him, a scowling Bard, safely dismounted, waited with arms crossed for the Elvenking to do the same. His face darkened further until he resembled nothing so much as a towering thundercloud when the Elvenking held out the Arkenstone with an imperious hand for him to take back. Take it Bard did, however, like it was a coiled snake about to strike.
Until this moment, Bilbo had only half believed that Smaug was slain and by the bargeman they'd met collecting barrels on the river, his appearance worn if his aim was unerring. But the glare Bard skewered the Elvenking, the Arkenstone, and Thorin with in turn was so fierce, cold and flashing as sharp steel in the moonlight, that Bilbo thought, yes, this was one who could have braved dragonfire to fell the beast that had laid waste to cities with a single mighty shot from his bow. A slightly hysterical laugh wanted to bubble up in his chest. Thorin had best tread carefully around Bard, or Smaug's killer might just succeed where the dragon had failed.
"What a great mess you've made of things, Bilbo Baggins," he berated himself under his breath. He was a fool to suppose that giving Bard the Arkenstone would solve their problems. Still, at least there was no more talk of war and the matter was out of his too-small Hobbit hands, which were ill-suited to meddling in the affairs of kings. Gandalf will set them straight. Why, Bilbo figured that's what Gandalf did-counsel the high lords of distant lands in their halls of stone-when he wasn't at his excellent fireworks or a pipe of Old Toby, on account of being one of the less magical Wizards.
"Gladly, Gandalf," Thorin replied with an amiable nod. "Balin, Bilbo, with me." Bilbo started. Wha-? He sputtered in protest. Thorin ignored him, of course, already heading for the stairs with a jaunty spring in his step and clearly expecting them to follow. "The rest of you stay here. Soon, my friends, we shall be toasting to my nuptials!" Picturing Bard's glower, Bilbo thought glumly that Thorin was bound to be disappointed, whatever it was he wanted of the man.
· · ·
"...is indeed an ancient tradition of our people," said the white-haired Dwarf who'd this time introduced himself as, "Balin son of Fundin, at your service. I shall be acting as officiant in the suit of Thorin son of Thráin, King Under the Mountain, for the hand in marriage of Bard, slayer of the dragon Smaug and heir to Girion, Lord of Dale."
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Maker's balls.
Oh Bilbo.
No, no, no, though, this has to end in marriage.
With Thorin being the smoothest fucker EVER and sweeping Bard off his feet to carry him off for ravishment.
In this scenario, Bard's feet are probably still dragging on the ground but it's still REALLY romantic, okay?!
(Also, you know, Dain going whoohoo you go cousin! in the background.)
Um, what I meant to say was...yes! THIS! MORE.
Like, ten hundred more.
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I'm still trying to feel out the end of this story, but I could leave it open to interpretation? Though, at this point, Bard would much rather run Thorin through with his sword. And I mean the steel one! LOL!
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NOPE. Nobody short and hairy dies in the botfa. I don't care about elves, orcs or wargs, so they are fair game. But nope to humans and dwarves.
*shakes head*
Well there could be more courting after the whole war thing, with Thorin slowly winning Bard over~
also this gives Dís a chance to arrive in time for the wedding.
The potc-style wedding mid-fight is more of a Dwalin/Fíli thing.
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But I repeat, no weddings! What you imagine Thorin and Bard get up to after the end of this fic, well, that's your business, but I'm trying to keep it under 10,000 words-not nearly enough for Bard to be wooed and won, no matter how suave Thorin is, lol. I will say, though, that once more Dwarves arrive, I expect Thorin may have to face some stiff competition in his courting of Bard. ;)
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But, but, but, Bard thaws to Thorin, right? RIGHT?
Oh that would actually be hilarious, if he starts seriously thinking about it and maybe even blushing a bit while considering getting that sexy dwarf as a hubby
and then remembers that he is still angry
and Thorin sighs, all charmed and happy and
excuse me, I have feelings in my eyes.
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... which Bard firmly orders to have it burned.
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