The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings x Reader Oneshots

The Drifter - Thorin x Reader {Part 1}

No one's POV

You sit alone in the corner of the tavern. Lightly playing your banjo, humming a soft tune tapping your foot on the old wooden floor. Your head down and eyes closed. Your scarf, large flat brim cowboy hat, and long poncho the only thing keeping your identity secret. A mysterious person that no-one knows where you came from.

With your strange musical instrument, strange clothes, strange weapons of fire, no-one knows where you're from, most assume you're a Ranger or a Witch from somewhere up north in the mountains. But that's far from the truth.

You found yourself here in this strange world some time ago, killed from some outlaw's that attacked your family's ranch in the middle of the night. Your father told you to run, handing both of his pistols, his hat and poncho, and some boy clothes so you can run and not draw to much attention to yourself. He grabbed his shotgun and went to face them while you escaped out the back. But that didn't go as planed. As soon as you opened that door you felt a shooting pain in your abdomen. You got shot... Before you drew your last breath you raised one of the pistols and shot the man before you. After that, nothing... the pain was gone, you felt light, like you were falling, but there was nothing. You and your father both died that night...

But instead of waking up in a lovely land of gold roads and angels or even a burning, screaming land filled with demons, you woke up in a cave. Your father's banjo next to you. You remember nothing after your death. You know there was something; but not sure of what.

Some parts felt different about you... Your teeth were sharper, you had long sharp black nails, your skin was a grayish black. from your finger tips going up your arm, it faded into a lighter gray before going back to your natural skin tone. The same went for your legs. And around the edges of your face fading around the outside edges of your eyes were black scales with bits of gray, red and gold here and there. On your shoulders, sides, and the outside of your thighs were white, gray and black feathers. And your eyes... a horrifyingly beautiful golden yellow with fiery orange. All in all, you looked like a magnificently beautiful fallen angel... A beautiful demon... You weren't sure why you ended up like this; you tried hard to recall anything but to no avail. Either way you're now like this. This terrible, amazingly, beautiful creature of darkness and light. People here never saw anything like you. You weren't human anymore.

So, you used the poncho and hat to hide yourself. Along the way you found a long scarf which you used to conceal the lower half of your face. Now, here you are; many years later after traveling this world. Helping who's in need every once in a while; but mainly keeping to yourself.

You stop playing briefly to take a swig of ale before continuing on, getting lost in thought once again. A small smile graces your lips thinking back to some memories you shared with your father... It was only you and him on that little ranch. You frown remembering your mother left with another man. You were only seven at the time. Needless to say she broke you and your father's heart. The man she left with was rich and very good with the lady's. That was your first experience with a wealthy man. After that you saw other's like that in the small town you lived near; especially the church with many of those who went. You didn't trust anyone with money or a title since then, and that still stands.

Someone suddenly sits right across from you at your little corner table, interrupting your train of thought. You try to pay them no mind and continue to play as they stare at you.

"A pleasant evening, don't you think, Drifter?" Says an old voice of the stranger, soft and gentle. Plucking one last string of the banjo, you nod with a hum, resting your hand over the strings gently. "Sorry, how rude of me. My name is Gandalf." The old man introduces himself. "Gandalf the Gray?" You ask raising your head slightly. "So you know of me." He says with a small smile. "Indeed. A lot speak of you." You take another swig of ale. He tells the passing barmaid that he'd also like an ale before it goes back to being quiet between us.