Middle Earth || OS

60. Thorin | Ale & Confessions

Tumblr : averil-of-fairlea

about a friend of Thorin's professing her love after throwing back a few too many. The request sounds MUCH better than my description, but for some reason I can't access the original request (grrr, Tumblr!) but here you go – many thanks!//edited for detail 5/19/14

The air is alive with love and dreams as you watch Bofur, one of your closest pals, marry his sweetheart in a lovely outdoor ceremony. Thorin is also there, of course, looking genuinely happy, though his smiles never last for long.

You'd always seen through his rough exterior. You knew a caring, thoughtful, loving dwarf was under all that pain, anger and defeat. You saw it in how he'd led his people to safety in the Blue Mountains. You loved that he had persevered, despite his many losses. And you loved to hear him talk about reclaiming Erebor someday, though you couldn't bear the thought of him leaving.

Bofur had urged you to tell him how you felt long ago, but the time never seemed right.

Today, however, feels different.

It's a wedding, after all. Maybe it won't be so awkward to confess your feelings on this marvelous, festive, love-filled day. And if Thorin doesn't feel the same – well, at least it will be off your chest.

You reason that you just need a wee bit of liquid courage first.

It certainly seems to work for a couple of your friends, normally timid souls who, after a quick swill, possess the bravery to ask others they might not ever approach otherwise. Besides, you know how to hold your liquor. You've never overindulged.

You walk over to the beverage table, where ale and wine are flowing freely. You grab a mug, pour in the frothy ale from a pitcher, chug like a champ, then look for him.

He's alone by one of the colorful maypoles, observing the first dance and tapping his foot to the musicians' tunes.

Now's the time.

But just one more drink won't hurt.

You pour, gulp, and wipe your mouth.

Then you pour, gulp and wipe your mouth again – a total of four more times. Things are spinning a bit, but you're ready!

You stumble your way through the crowd.

"'Scuse me!" You think you're speaking in a normal tone, but you're actually shouting.

After what seems like hours of walking, you see Thorin ahead.

"Thoorrin! Yoo-hoo!" you call as you approach him. He looks bewildered, to say the least.

You come up to him and bow low, nearly kissing the ground, then jolt straight back up. Your eyes cross for a second as you adjust to being upright again.

"What in Durin's name...?" Thorin asks in a low voice, not wanting to bring further attention to you.

"You know what?"

"Hmm...you're loud?" he guessed.

"YOU KNOW WHAT?!"

"Darling, please stop shouting."

Thorin catches the stares coming your way and takes you by the elbow, trying to lead you away from the festivities without making more of a scene. You try to stand firm, but that ship sailed three ales ago.

You walk clumsily with him over to one of the smaller, less-occupied party tents.

"You know what?" You holler again and open your arms wide, wanting to crush him in an embrace. "Thorin, I love yoooooo!"