Tag: headcanony things

poesiariptide:

I am so late for @determamfidd‘s birthday that in an attempt to make up for it, I am attaching, along with all the love and hugs, an (albeit very rough and sketchy for lack of time) illustrated version of my Thorin-Stonehelm-pouts-in-his-sleep headcanon, since I remember her saying she’d totally want to draw it.

Belated happy birthday, Dets! Hope you have a lovely year ahead ^_^

OH MY GOODNESS OH MY GOD OH MY WOW

klasgdjflhasgfkajgfa RIPPY THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

He’s lovely! GOD I love your details – the lines on the hands, the fingerless gloves, the plaits, wrinkles on the clothes, I LOVE THE WAY YOU DRAW HIS HAIR AHHH MOHAWK MOHAWK (but with the Oakenshield-inspired braids bc he’s such a goober and has an idol problem <3) AND OH MY GOD THAT POUT…!

Thank you, amazing Rippy – thank you thank THANK THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH! *tackles and hugs*

Dear Dets, do you ever think about what Bilbo’s experience might have been if he’d actually reached the Lonely Mountain after his disappearance from his birthday party?

Oooooh.

It would have been hard for him. Not just the journey (he’s a VERY elderly hobbit, after all) but.

Looking at certain places, certain areas in the Mountain. Of course, many things would have been VASTLY different, all that time… but different enough not to prick and prod at those memories? I don’t know…

Still, he would have been delighted to see and spend time with his old friends, all together at last. 

There would have been some… very obvious vacancies. 

(Silence is sucked into those gaps around the table, sinking heavier into the pauses where another is expected to take up the tale, or to shout their indignation… but they’re not there. They’re not there, and there’s a gap, a breath, and the silence sinks into it a little deeper every time.)

Imagine, all of them spending time together, and then maybe one of the Dwarves mentions something, or perhaps Bilbo begins a particular story… only for the words to trip and stutter to a halt upon a particular name. Balin. Oin. Ori. Fili. Kili. 

Tho-

Are you all right, lad? You’ve gone quite pale.

You’re one to talk, your beard’s turned whiter than my hair. And I’m perfectly all right. Just a momentary catch in the throat.

*mad cackling*

Thorin kills Azog the Defiler, but at the cost of his life. His nephews mourn, as Fili, blinded in one eye from his brush with death on Ravenhill, is crowned King Under the Mountain. He will see Erebor restored, and while some grumble at his freeness with the wealth of the mountain in aiding others, none will ever say that he might fall to gold sickness. Erebor will know peace, under him.

Meanwhile, Bard the Bowman heroically have his life fighting to save the people of Laketown, now Dale. Queen Sigrid is crowned, the eldest heir of Girion, and the daughter of the Dragonslayer. She is firm, and crafty, and any who doubt her soon gain a strong respect for her caring heart and quick mind. She is grieving for her father, and trying her best to raise her siblings after tragedy; but she is strong.

The Elvenking fought like a hurricane, but was overwhelmed by a swarm of orcs as he was thrown from his mount. His body was found hours after the battle, in a circle of mutilated orcs. His son, who has never been the type for politics, puts aside his joy in patrolling with the guard and takes up his father’s crown. Legolas Thranduilion is perhaps not the best of kings, but he is kind, well-liked, and will not lead his people astray

YOU ASKED FOR THIS

Dets’ reaction: I DID, I DID ASK FOR THIS

augh yessss THE DELICIOUS DEVASTATION

I didn’t know it was your birthday. Happy birthday! Also, probably a bad time, but I had a sad HC to share. Nori, the first time after he died and Ori left for Moria, watching Dori trying to do his hair in his usual elaborate braids. Seeing him opening his mouth to call for one of his brothers, since he and Dori had helped each other since they were both old enough to braid. Sees the pause when Dori remembers that he’s all alone and watches him settle for a simpler style until he can practice.

AUGH *eats up the lovely, lovely angst alongside her cake* I LOVE ITTTT

Imagine itty Wee Thorin, tied into his high charge, all chub a cheeks and baby-hair Mohawk. Scowling away as he sucks at his sippy cup. Going -grumble grumble- I hate baby shoes in his head, trying desperately to get them off. And Dwalinuls is always trying to get the shoes on. They were a present from Dori or Dis, and are tiny knitted cute things.

HAAAAAAAAHAHAHA

I am imagining Wee Thorin doing the ‘I HATE HATS’ thing, as well… so many older babies/toddlers go through a stage of ‘GETTIT OFF MEEEEEEEE’ lmaaaaao

Dori keeps doggedly knitting things, nevertheless. He’s not about to be defeated by someone less than 1 foot tall!!