Hobbit x reader oneshots

My kings. My heart. My love. Thorin X Reader

There is blood on your lips. It coats your tongue. Invades your lungs. It is all you can taste and smell. It is as powerful as the ringing in your ears. It overpowers the steady beat of your heart. It focuses you.

To protect him. Your king.

The sword in your hands grows heavier with every laboured breath. Your once graceful dance now haggard and ragged.

Azog was going to over power you.

Your sword arced in the air. A single fluid swing towards your enemy. Born of years of combat and gathered skill. Your sword crashes against Azogs. Metal strikes metal. He swings. Your feet move. Plant you before him.

You will not lose them.

The line of Durin will not fall.

You cry out. The sound agonizing as it rattles your chest. It fuels the flame in your blood. Sets molten fire in your veins.

You strike.

He parries.

He strikes.

You bounce it back. Drag the edge of your sword along his arm.

The Defiler cries out.

You blink. See double. Snowfall obscurs your sight.

The Pale Orc strikes.

You shoot forward.

Desperation fuels you.

Somewhere to you right Thorin lays unconscious. His nephews to far. To distant.

You sword lands.Slides smoothly into exposed flesh.

Pain.

Hot.

Ice.

Blood spills.

You push onwards. Some beggoten strength fuels you. Drives you forward. Aules prayer is on your lips. To end this. To protect them. Allow you to give your life so three may life.

The prayer rings loud and true.

The Pale Orc stumbles. You pull back. His body straightens. Eyes wide as his breath spills. Deep and heavy from his body.

You can't breathe.

Malhal.

You can't breathe.

You name echoes in the air. Desperation laces it. You can say nothing. Only watch as Azog falls. The Difiler will do no more harm.

As for you?

Your knees hit snow and ice. Red on white. You feel nothing. Hear nothing.

You have done your duty. Right? Protected the king with your last breath. Shielded him with body and sword. Followed your vows until the end.

You fell to your side. You look up. Desperate for something other than your fallen enemy.

The sky is grey. Heavy with clouds and thickly falling snow. It reminds you of your childhood. Days spent playing in the snow. The warmth of your families hearth. The joy. The fun.

That had been so long ago. Nearly two centuries has past. And here you were. Back at the place your life began. Erebor. Home.

"Y/n?" You are lifted into shaking arms. Oh you could weep.

"Thorin?" His name came out one syllable at a time. His hand is in your cheek brushing away the blood that has spilled.

You smile.

"What have you done?" Thorin's voice is cracking. Broken. It fades with you.

"I have protected you. My Uzabadê*." You see his lips move. Hear nothing. And still you smile.

"I am glad. That your face. Is the last I will see." You words slur. Blend.

It is then the tears fall. Thick and heavy. They muddle such pretty eyes. Eyes you have fallen into night after night.

Oh you have prayed to be in these arms. To be embraced as lovers do.

"No. Do not speak like that. Erebor. Our home. You." A sob tears through him. And you weep. Cry for him.

Your hand rises. Weakly. Trembling. You cradled his chin. Thorin falls into it. Your thumb brushes his lips. Oh how you wish he could have kissed you but once. To have been so full of him that you could burst.

Both of you knew how this will end. A lifetime of loss and ruin shared. It had been cruel at worst and unforgiving at best.

You could not decide what this would be.

"Please." His voice is hoarse."We must see it through." Your hand falls. You craves his warmth. Wish for one more night. Out there beneath the stars.

"You will. Uzfakuh*." It falls from your lips. And you mean it. Thorin truly had been the greatest gift in your life.

"Promise." You cough. Sputter. "Promise me. That you will. Live a full life." It is getting harder to hold you eyes open. Body becoming laden with every gasping breath.

Tired. Malhal you were tired.

"Keep the boys close. Your hearth warm. And your heart. Open." Thorin is unable to speak.

You can hear the call of his name in the distance. The sound muffled by the snow fall.

"Promise me. Thorin. Do not let your past define you." Your voice rasps. "Use the light. To brighten your dark." Thorin curls over you. Holds you close. Presses his lips to your hair.

"I promise. Malhal I promise." He pulls away. You catch his eye and smile. Happy to have him as you last image before leaving middle earth. To go into the halls of your creator.

With the last of you strength you pull the already falling beads from your hair. Press them into his hand.

"Men Lananubulkhsme, melhekhel."

Uzabadê: My King

Uzfakuh: My greatest joy.

Men Lananubulkhsme: I love you

Melhekhel: King of all kings.