Tag: Anonymous

What do all of Dwalin and Orla ‘ s kids look like? Do they take more after their mother or their fathe? (And thank you for making such great and believeable OCs)

Hey Nonnie! Ahh, thank you so so much!

Ahhh, okay – bear in mind that this is how I see ‘em. Even though I came up with ‘em, others might see them differently, and that’s awesome 🙂

Wee Thorin Dwalinul

He is tall and stout-legged and blocky, as children go. His skin is dark, though not as dark as his mother’s, and he has a short shock of tufty hair in the centre of his hairline that is forever threatening to turn into a mohawk. (I love the idea of his hair being braided into rows at the sides of his head: as in lacefedora‘s awesome pic of him!) His beard and moustache have already started to grow in, and he has thick, expressive eyebrows. His eyes are large and a deep, warm brown (all the better to roll at Gimizh’s antics). He is very eager to get tattoos like both his parents, and draws on practice-tattoos in both red and blue ink whenever he can. He has very big hands… sliiiiiightly too big for his frame, like the paws of a puppy that will grow up to be a massive dog. Wee Thorin will not end up the tallest of his brothers – but he will end up absolutely enormous. Basically, he is going to be built like a fridge 🙂

Check the Wee Thorin Tag here for amazing art!

Balinith Dwalinul

He is also quite stocky, with a round-cheeked little face. He has his hair in dreadlocks, which he likes the texture of, and are a great physical stimulus. Now and then he wears glasses, though on many days he doesn’t want to, because the feel of them on his face really irritates. His skin is nearly the same shade as his older brother’s, though it has a slightly reddish tinge in the right light (a very attractive sort of colour). His sideburns are filling a little, and he is just about as tall as Gimizh already (who is in despair, because he is four years older than Balin, it’s not fair!). Balinith will one day be the shortest of the three brothers – but he will be the strongest, even stronger than massive Thorin or gangly Frerin. 

Check out the Balinith tag here for amazing art!

Frerinith Dwalinul

Frerin is darker-skinned than either of his brothers, and is the most recognisably non-Longbeard. His hair is tightly curled against his head, with little wayward cowlicks at crown and hairline. His eyes are thick-lashed and impossibly huge, and he has a wide and ready grin. He always seems to be missing a tooth. Frerinith is, at this stage, a chubby-cheeked youngster with short little legs and a round toddler-tummy. Eventually he will be the tallest of them all, though he won’t have the bullish build of Wee Thorin. Instead, he will be a bit of a lanky stringbean, as Dwarves go! 

Check out the Frerinith tag for artiness!

Thorin has totally made Hrera A jewelry stand based on flower motifs. There is enamel for colors. It is very pretty.

She would have been slightly startled upon receiving it, I’d imagine! She knows her implacable grandson, after all, and she knows he never bothers with decoration.

Thorin wouldn’t even have twigged that the geraniums and jasmine motif around the base was somewhat out-of-character for him, as far as his family was aware. 

“It’s lovely, Thorin darling,” she said eventually. “It shall have pride of place on my dresser.”

He kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you like it, grandmother.”

(Geraniums: gentility. Yellow Jasmine: grace and elegance. From this site.)

Little dwarven gardens, in pots and glass containers, on floors or attached to walls, or hanging from the ceilings. They’re probably not much for flowers that are – just pretty – but there’s a good market for plants that freshen the air, or are used for cooking or medicine, dyes or other practical considerations.

That sounds exactly right to me, Nonnie. I think there’d be an interest in plants that give off bio-luminescence too 🙂

Bomfris/Stonehelm cuddles of supreme awkward cute. What to do with hands? Blushes all around. Tripping over words. Just so love struck and cute.

They hadn’t been courting? If courting was the right word… well, whatever it was, they hadn’t been doing it for long.

Bomfris didn’t know what to make of him. If she had thought of him at all, before (and wasn’t it odd, that the war had turned everything into ‘before’ and ‘after’) she had assumed that he’d be rather like his father. Dangerously smart, assured, irreverent and humorous. But above all – confident. 

He wasn’t. Not at all.

He stammered when he lost his train of thought. He sought her approval (a new sensation – nobody had ever wanted her approval so badly before) continually. He wasn’t confident at all, though he tried hard to don the mannerisms of a Dwarf who was. It was as though he had some impossible ideal in his mind, one that he could never live up to. He would bite at his lip. He fidgeted. 

Oh, but he was clever, and brave, and ridiculously handsome. He was a tremendous warrior and a loyal, kind soul, and a good person. She wanted to shake him sometimes, to tell him that he was enough, just as he was. That even though he stood in the shadow of giants, he still cast such a wonderful bright light of his own.

Thorin was carefully sorting through the mess on her head, his fingers gentle and fumbling as he carded the comb through her wind-snarled hair. “Can I,” he began, and stopped. 

She glanced back at him. It’s unfair that he’s so pretty, sniped her mind, and she smacked the thought away. “Mmmm?”

“Can I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to give you our braid…?”

She frowned at him as the words rearranged themselves into garbled nonsense, and tried to force them to make sense. “What?”

His gaze dropped. Oh, she supposed that was… rather abrupt. “No, wait. I’m sorry – I didn’t quite – can you say it again? I think I misheard.”

He bit his lip. Again. He should stop that, her mind whispered. He’s got me to do that for him, now. She smacked her inner voice rather more firmly, and tried to concentrate as he managed to mumble, “Can I. Would you like, that is… uh. Our braid? My braid?”

The word ‘braid’ came out sounding a lot more like ‘brund’.

She stared a bit uselessly at him. So, so pretty, her mind cooed. Then she blurted, “yes! I mean, yes please. All right? But not where Tuac can peck at it; she’s always ruining my hair, and…”

She trailed off at the look of awed gladness that stole over his face, and knew that her own face was probably ridiculously sappy. “Thank you,” he said, and bent to kiss her on the cheek.

He missed, and got her in the eye.

“Unngh!”

“Bomfris, sorry, sorry – I am so sorry, I didn’t think you’d move just then, I am so-”

And he REALLY needs to stop apologising for everything! Cross now, she grabbed him by the plait in his beard and yanked him down for a further, more thorough kiss. She liked this part. The kissing part, that was. 

The noise that escaped him was something along the lines of: “Ummf!” His arms hovered, outstretched awkwardly at his sides like a hopping raven’s, the fingers widespread in his surprise. Bomfris pulled back and gave him a pointed look.

“You can touch me,” she said, eyebrows raised.

He gingerly settled his hands on her waist, and then his gaze flickered up to her face. As if for her approval.

She rolled her eyes. “Better. And that’s a yes. To the braid.”

He blinked at her.

She realised she was still holding onto his beard, and hastily let go as though her hand was burning. “Oh! Oh, I am s-”

“No,” he said,

oh so gently, and lifted her hand again to his face. Her fingers felt strange and clumsy settling there, and she watched them thread through the thick rusty hair on his cheeks as though they weren’t connected to her. His eyes then glittered with a spark of humour. “No, you can touch me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ha, ha.”

He grinned at her, and she used her hand on his (far, far too pretty) face to yank him back down for a better kiss. 

Oh yes, she liked this part.

Dis and Vili cutesy moment feat. Sleeping baby Fili.

The cry woke them at around two hours past midnight.

“I’m not getting up again,” Dis mumbled into her pillow. “I’m not. You get him.”

Vili yawned, every single one of his molars showing. Then he slipped from their bed and padded to the bassinet, scratching at his bare stomach.

Cross blue eyes greeted him. 

“Now then, inudoy, my wee lion,” he said gently, and lifted his son out of his blankets. They had been half-kicked off anyway: Fili seemed to object to having his limbs bound against his little body by his shawls. “What’s this about, then?”

A quick sniff gave him his answer. “Ah.”

Fili loved to wriggle on his changing mat, and it was like trying to wrestle an eel when his legs really got going. Vili managed to get him sorted, and then patted him on his newly-changed bottom. “There, that’s got to be more comfortable, eh?”

Fili gnawed on a foot, and peered up at Vili. He blinked tiredly. “Still sleepy, eh? Well, it wasn’t my idea to get us all up at this hour, you’ve nobody else to blame.” Vili picked up the boy and laid him over his shoulder. Fili’s head, soft as down, nestled against his cheek. “Come on, my brave lad.”

Dis was dozing when he made it back to the bed, the baby still cradled against him. She roused a little when the bed dipped as he sat, and her eye cracked open. “He need feeding back down again?” she managed, her words slurring.

“Aye. I’ll put him back in his bassinet after: you stay where you are.”

Dis didn’t answer, but simply rolled over and took the baby from him and opened her gown. 

Vili sat, watching for a moment, as his wife fed their child. They were the picture of peace: the little baby, and the half-asleep Dwarrowdam, and the still, nearly timeless quality of the small hours of the night.

Finally the baby’s rhythmic jaw motions stopped, and he unlatched himself and lolled back onto the bed. Vili scooped him up and held him against his heartbeat. The sound would finish the job of lulling him back to sleep.

“Th’k you, sweetheart,” Dis mumbled, already mostly asleep.

He kissed her head. “No need.”

Fili was too drowsy to protest being laid back in his cot and re-wrapped in his shawls. With one tiny pink-mouthed yawn, his head fell to one side and he was asleep again.

“That’s all that was needed, wasn’t it,” Vili whispered, and dared to reach out and stroke that impossibly soft, velvety cheek. Fili didn’t stir.

After one last look (would he ever be able to gaze his fill? Vili didn’t think so), Vili crept back to bed.