Hobbit Reader Inserts

Too Young - Kili x Reader

A/n: This bundle of angst was inspired by the attached picture, so blame the artist, not me! Warning for death I suppose.
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"Sorry (Y/n), you're just too young..."
You let out a frustrated huff and crossed your arms, a pout on your lips.
"But 'adad..." You started, only to be cut off by your father.
"No, I'm sorry. Maybe next year. Look, you can play with Kíli whilst we're gone, he's staying too."
With a groan, you put down your bow and hug the dwarf in front of you goodbye, watching with longing as he and the rest of the hunting party disappeared beyond the treeline.
"Hey (Y/n)..." A voice almost as irritated as your own chimed behind you. Turning, you saw Kíli, a dejected expression on his young face.
"You too, huh?"
He nodded, looking down at his bow. His trembling bottom lip and watering eyes - although he would never admit that was his face - lit a new spark of determination inside of you. Pulling your quiver higher on your shoulder, you grab Kíli's wrist and pull him along with you.
"Where are we-?"
"Somewhere nice."
That ended up being a large flat rock that stood by the river. Both of you sat on the surface, toes skimming the edge of the water.
"It's not even fair! Fee went, and he's only five years older!"
"Exactly! We're both forty seven, we can both hunt!"
At the end of your angry spouting, you groaned and dramatically flopped onto Kíli's lap, knocking his bow out of the way. The disgruntled look on your face sent him into a fit of giggles, and the both of you descended into mad, childish laughter.
...
A roar of laughter erupted from a table sat in the middle of the tavern. It was a late evening in Ered Luin, and the mining dwarves were enjoying a drink with their friends after a long, dark day underground. Fili, Kíli, you and several of your friends had joined the large and rowdy pack of dwarrows, hoping for a drink and possibly a story from one of the older dwarves.
The blonde prince strode back to the table that the group of younger dwarrows occupied, trying not to spill the ale that he was carrying.
"Right, Kee, Helig, (Y/n), Geri..." He called, passing around the tankards. You greedily snatched yours up and raised it to your lips only to have Old Greer, the inkeeper, pluck it from your fingers.
"Sorry, can't have a lass as young as you be drinking in here." He said, almost apologetically, carrying the ale away with him.
"But..." You whined after him, hand partially outstretched for the drink. It clenched into a fist and you slammed it into the table. "Damn it."
Out of the corner if your eye, you saw Kíli hide a smug grin into his mug. With a pout you rammed your shoulder into his, jolting him so that half his ale sloshed down his front.
"Oh come on!" He yelped, desperately trying to wipe his tunic and new coat. "That was uncalled for!" You stuck out your tongue, folding your arms across your chest.
"You only get away with it because your the prince." Embellishing the last word with a flourish of the hand, you lightly tapped his foot with yours. With a roll of his eyes, Fili slid his mug across to you.
"Two sips." The older brother ordered.
"Your brother is a saint!" You exclaimed, bringing the drink up to your lips. Kíli shrugged and waved his mug filled with what was left of his drink.
"But he'll never be as pretty as me."
You nearly choked.
...
It had been a week since the Battle of the Five Armies. Both Fili and Kili had been wounded badly, and Thorin had nearly died. Both the King and his first heir were still bedridden, fighting off the orc poison that swarmed through their bodies. The youngest however was walking through the halls with the assistance of a wooden crutch, trying to catch the attention of a healer that could point him in your direction. Finally, a young elf maid saw his aimless wandering and asked him who he was looking for.
"(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."
The elf maid kept a straight face, but the blood drained from it.
"I believe I've heard her name mentioned... Follow me..." She began to walk, slowing her pace to allow Kíli to hobble along at a decent rate. They reached a large, high walled hall, filled with row upon row of sheet covered bodies. Kíli stopped, taking the mass amount of death, before realising what this meant for you.
"She's not... She's not amongst... She can't be..."
Face furrowed in sympathy, the elf maid placed a hand on his shoulder and led him to the stretcher that bore your body, pale and stiff.
You had died but a day ago, she explained, unable to overcome the blood loss and poison. It had been long and arduous, but you were at peace in the Halls of Mahal now. She had heard your name when Bofur had to be dragged from your bedside as you died.
Sensing the young dwarf's need for privacy, the healer wandered away to tend to the other injured. Kíli sunk down to his knees before your body, one hand grasping his crutch, the other clutching your cold hand.
"Oh amrâlime... I'm so sorry..." He sobbed, squeezing your fingers lightly in his own. "I'm so sorry for bringing you here... For leaving you in the battle..." Dropping his crutch, he brushed his free hand over your forehead, disturbing the stray strands of hair. "You were so young and I loved you so much... I will always love you..."