Kíli x reader/oc (will write a Fíli x reader/oc POV soon)
Summary: When two girls fell into Middle Earth, excited at the prospects of living through their all time favourite novel, they find things are not as they seem.
Something is watching them, a...
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Kismet (Definition): A hypothetical force or personified power that determines the course of the future events. Fate, Destiny.
(Noun / Origin: Old Turkish /kis·met)
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Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Tuesday, 26th April 2941 of the Third Age (Trewsday, 6th Thrimidge, 1341 in Shire-reckoning)
Waking up on the day we had spent over a year of our lives waiting for was certainly less invigorating than I assumed it to be.
A month ago I would have been practically vibrating in my seat, beaming with enthusiasm at the thought of my favourite story come-to-life happening, and that I would be able to take part in it firsthand. Now that feeling had been flung out the window, my jitters of excitement were replaced with nervous ones. Sickness and dread filling the empty pit of my stomach as my mind filled with all the 'what ifs?'
What if they don't let us come? What if Gandalf can't convince them? He's already gonna have a hard time trying to get Thorin to understand that Bilbo is – somewhat – capable of surviving and adapting to the wild.
What if they start yelling about women not being strong enough and how mad they are that Gandalf told us about a 'secret' mission? And I start crying because I can't handle yelling and being rejected which will make them even MORE stubborn about not letting us come? Even if they did let us come, would Thorin sulk and hate us for months?
Oh God.
What if HE doesn't like me?
My eyes unconsciously dragged over to the bow leant against the corner of the parlour as my thoughts drifted to him. Blurry flashes of wavy brown hair and a cheeky smile danced across my vision. I let in a deep breath, before frantically pushing the waking nightmares of all the insecurities and terrible outcomes that would possibly happen this evening into the depths at the back of my mind.
Giving my head a small shake and rolling my shoulders, I returned my sights to the piece of paper on the table in front of me. I bounced my leg erratically, spinning the quill in my hand between my fingers and staring at my looping handwriting with vigorous intent, but barely taking a word in.
