Middle Earth || OS

6. Thorin | Shippiung you, Shipping me

Tumblr : heilith

Imagine the company shipping you and Thorin. Like full on tumblr doing. Oin would draw fanart, Ba-lin would write fanfiction. Fili and Kili would give you a ship name and try to convince their uncle that your perfect for him.

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Shipping you shipping me

"What are you doing?" Thorin bellowed angrily, towering over Oin like an irate Troll. The old Dwarf looked up from his sketches.

"Eh?" asked he, "Wait a minute, young lad, can't you see I'm drawing? That's you, and that's Y/N."

"What is she doing?!" the answer didn't appease Thorin at all.

"Aaaah, you see, she's..."

"Leave it, Oin," Balin patted his shoulder reassuringly, "I had the talk with him when he had reached the mating age. Thorin, I thought you were paying attention," reproached he in an accent of slight resentment.

Oin clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

Thorin went from pale to beetroot in a mere second. Sipping your tea, you lazily wondered if that was even healthy. On the other hand, health appeared to be the last thing that troubled him at the moment.

"My friend, I don't think her leg is, mmmm," Balin frowned and pointed at the sketch, his head tilted a little, "There's something not quite right with it."

"The age, Balin," complained Oin regretfully, "The details are slipping my memory. Ah, the good ol' times..."

He fixed something, then erased something else and closed one eye to evaluate the results of his pains.

"Her leg is not going there," growled Thorin in a vain attempt to intimidate the old pranksters.

"Why not?" Balin asked innocently, "It's quite comfortable, I assure you."

"You should have shown him some drawings, Balin," Oin said, "Them words are not for everyone."

"I've never been of that opinion, old friend. By the way, I've just finished another, I keep forgetting, ah, yes, fanfic, my dear. Would you like to give it an eye?"

He winked at you with a wide smile.

"I hope no legs are involved," grumbled Thorin acidly.

You giggled up your sleeve.

It had started out innocently. During one of the noon halts your fellows were entertaining themselves with a lazy discussion of favourite or just bearable pastimes. Ori gathered up enough courage to invite you to the talk, and before you knew it, you were happily enlarging upon Internet, and blogs, and fandoms, and fanfics, and accidently woke up a monster in the process. Shipping stroke the keenest interest. The full-grown Dwarves, tempered by war and hardships, grasped at the idea with the eagerness of five-year-olds, who were shown a new way to wreak havoc all around. You'd been quite oblivious to the effect of your stories, until a week after the fateful day you were presented with the first piece of Dwarf-fiction by none than Balin himself. Written in a perfectly elevated style, it narrated the love story of the certain not-yet King under the Mountain and a lady who was strikingly similar to you. The later installments were less wasteful of words, and more revealing as to the personality of the lady. Three weeks in your name was on each page, and you could only marvel at what a wild imagination could hide behind the exterior of venerable age. The style was still perfect, though. In the evenings the Company would gather around the fire and listen to yet another chapter with avid attention. Dori provided everyone with drinks and snacks. Kili and Fili cheered, Bofur commented on the plot twists. The likes and dislikes were scribbled down by Ori and counted accurately. You had a strong suspicion he tried his hand at fanfics, too, but of course, there was no chance of ever knowing it for sure.