Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit-Imagines and Oneshots

Thorin- Vertically Challenged Party People

Requested by fluffyfoxella

You hated these parties, but you had to admit that from a political point of view, the idea of them seemed brilliant. The White Council held them a couple times a century, inviting rulers and nobles of all races from all lands. It was an opportunity for the important people of the world to meet and form relationships that weren't just for show. But people of races other than elves rarely attended. But your family had made an effort to come when you received the once-in-a-lifetime invitation.

You were Princess (y/n), eldest daughter of King Bard of New Dale. 

Currently, you were sulking on the walls of the ballroom, trying to remind yourself not to get too drunk as you sipped unbelievably strong elvish wine, watching Bain try to win over and elf maid and Sigrid dance with a handsome ellon that had her swooning. Why weren't you dancing, you ask? Well, you had tried shortly after the night began, but became lost in the towering forest of graceful elves. 

You were too short for your liking at the moment; the smallest of your siblings. When you met new people, they always thought you were the youngest when really, you were the firstborn and heir to the throne. Your father said you got your height from your mother, and that made you feel a bit better about yourself, but not right now. 

Right now, you wished you could at least reach an elf's shoulder and not be eye-level with his stomach when you danced, or not get tripped on when he spun you over to your next partner. The humiliation just wasn't worth a dance. 

You were wallowing in self-pity when you heard a rich voice at your left. "Excuse me, my lady?"

You jumped a bit and turned to face the person. He was a dwarf dressed in royal blue robes and a fur coat. He was tall by dwarf standards, and you, being extremely short by human standards, were only about a head or so shorter than him. It was nice not having to angle your neck to make eye contact with him. 

"Yes, my lord?" you said, trying to put on a smile equally stunning as those icy blue eyes of his.

"You caught my eye standing over here alone," he said, and looked into the flurry of spinning elves. "Not one for dancing, I take it?"

"No, I am," you retorted. "I just can't dance at the moment. I'm too..." You blushed furiously, sweaty fingers fiddling around the stem of your wine glass. "Vertically challenged."

The dwarf lord chortled. You didn't appreciate that. He noticed your discomfort and quieted down.

"Believe me, my lady," he assured you, "I understand completely. You don't see any of my kind dancing out there, do you?"

Indeed, there were no dwarves out on the dance floor. A few humans from your council, but no dwarves. In fact, there seemed to be no dwarves here at all.

"No."

"I only came here to keep our already strained alliance with the elves secure. To be truthful," he leaned down to whisper into your ear, "they aren't my kind of party people at all."

You put a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. How daring he was to say that! You couldn't blame him, though. You eyed the dance taking place in front of you and realized that it was very slow and monotonous, contrasting from what you'd heard the dwarves preferred.  

"Would you like to come with me to the gardens?" he offered. "My family moved their merrymaking to there. You're welcome to join us. Maybe then I can ask you to join me in a more... vertically-equivalent dance?"