LOTR/Hobbit Imagines

Thorin - An Unexpected Adventure

Hammer. Don't be gentle, use your full force. It can take it. Carefully form the blade. Hammer some more.

The forge master looked up from his work at the counter when the sound of the hammer smacking onto metal echoed through the forge again. He had hired his new help only last month but he still wasn't used to him being around.

"Does he ever stop working?" his wife asked him while she was writing numbers down in a thick book on a desk that definitely had seen better days.

The forge master grunted in response. "Brunilda says he sleeps there every night but she never hears him arrive. Eats his dinner and breakfast in his room by himself."

His eyes rested on the Dwarf who was slaving away at the anvil. "He never complains, works harder than anyone I know for a ridiculously low price and he's the best swordsmith I've ever seen. Including myself," he continued.

His wife stood up from the desk and joined him at the counter, her work long forgotten. "Then what is the problem?"

"I don't know. There's something off about him. He avoids everyone, he doesn't want to tell me his name, not even after I offered him the job! If you want to stay anonymous, you're usually up to no good, Hilde, mark my words. When is the last time you have seen a Dwarf in our village?"

Reheat the steel, let it cool. Repeat.

His wife stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to come up with an answer. She prided herself in knowing everything that happened in the village and there was never any gossip she missed or didn't start herself. But there was nothing to be heard about Dwarves.

The forge master took her silence as her answer and pointed at her, trying to keep his voice low so his help wouldn't overhear.

"Exactly! I cannot shake the feeling that he will bring trouble our way. Even though I hate to see him go because of his excellent work, I'd sleep a lot better knowing that he's gone."

Hilde nodded in agreement, although she couldn't help but think she'd miss the Dwarf a little. She peeked around the corner into the forge and let her eyes roam shamelessly over the Dwarf's shirtless back. She watched his muscles flex, holding tension when the hammer met the anvil before he let them relax and repeated the process, the muscle movement heavy enough to make the drops of sweat glide down from his shoulders towards his lower back where they disappeared under the waistband of his trousers. Hilde swallowed heavily. Yes, she would definitely miss the Dwarf...

"Master Dwarf!" the forge master shouted once he noticed the sultry look in his wife's eyes, completely missing the fact that he wasn't the reason behind it, "we're going home for the day. Don't forget to lock everything up when you leave."

"As you wish," he answered back without looking up from his work.

Reheat the steel, let it cool. Repeat.

When he heard the front door fall into the lock, Thorin sighed and reheated the blade in the fire. He was glad they left him alone since he preferred to work by himself, but he hated the reason behind it.

Oh, he knew that the forge master didn't trust him, or his kind to be more precise. Just like he knew that the man took every valuable thing with him every night, afraid that Thorin would rob him.

It went like this everywhere he came, people avoiding him on the paths, glaring at him and whispering behind his back as soon as he was at a safe distance. And if he was lucky enough to get some work it usually didn't last long. Forge masters who were willing to give him a chance, familiar with the excellent craftsmanship of the Dwarves, were often pushed by the locals to send him away. He assumed it wouldn't take long now before the same thing happened here.