poplitealqueen:

I finally decided to dig into my drafts for this one Hobbit fic (A WIP THANK YOU VERY MUCH) I was writing about a year or so ago called Of Iron.

Summary: Pretty much just the events of the Hobbit trilogy with the big AU element being that Dáin Ironfoot joined Thorin’s Company.

(I do so love my bearded redheads.)

I was worried the drafts were shit, and even MORE worried that time would show me exactly *how* shitty (which is really all me, considering people drew me art for the chapters I actually posted and you don’t get art with shitty writing. I just have zero self-confidence in anything I do, peeps) but… honestly?

They aren’t that bad.

Some of the sections are actually pretty damn good. Personal favorite of mine? Ahem:

Bilbo placed a hand over his mouth. “That’s horrible,” he whispered.

Dáin shrugged. “That’s war.”

That’s actually really good?!?!? I got chills down my spine from my own writing??? Fuck. Kudos to you, past me.

And then this fucking Ori angst like?????

Ori pulled his sleeve under his nose.

“Dori thinks I don’t know. Nori assumes I figured it out after I got tha’ job re-inking the family tree tomes, but I’ve known much longer than that.” His eyes narrowed for a moment, and his usual soft way of speaking took on a much rougher tone. “Mum told me afore she passed. My Da was a bad man. A very bad man. Horrible to them all, especially to Dori.  I mind my nadad as much as I do because of what *my* Da did t’him. I want t’make things right, but I worry I’ll turn out just like my Da anyway .What if already have? What if all that bad is in my blood an’ there’s nothing I can do t’change it?”

He sniffed again.

“An’ yet Dori an’ Nori both love me. I know they do, but…What if I’m dangerous for them? For Bifur?” Ori looked down at his hands, callused and long-fingered; an artist’s hands. “Once I get my share of the treasure, I’m leaving. I’ll head South. It’s better tha’ way.”

BLESS. Dudes, and the amount of Dori and Nori snark? My LAWD:

Nori shook his head, sliding his dagger into the padlock and prying it open. “Dori son of Ari, breaking the rules? If Mum could see you now.”

He smiled broadly when the lock clicked open.

Dori huffed indignantly, but he had a similar grin pulling at his lips just the same.

“Breaking the rules *with permission*, nadadith. With permission.”

And certainly not last nor least, this entire fucking scene (Tsundere Thorin, Argumentative Lil Shut Bilbo, and Good Guy Nori. Plus one-legged Dáin enjoying the show):

Thorin crossed his arms before Bilbo.
“What were you thinking? You could have been hurt!”

Bilbo flushed as bright a crimson as his waistcoat, and pulled fretfully at his wristcuffs.

“I didn’t realize you, uhm, cared so much for me.”

Thorin’s scowl deepened. “You are our Burglar. I am obligated to care, although that is becoming increasingly difficult. Not only did you put yourself in danger, but my own cousin as well.” Thorin shook his head, muttering angrily. “Twas a foolish move by an impracticed thief that nearly cost the life of one I hold close to my heart–”

“Ach, lay off the poor lad, Thorin!” Dain sat up with a grunt, and Thorin was kneeling  beside him on one side in seconds, with Bilbo on the other.

“Dáin! Cousin, are you hurt?”

“‘Course I’m hurt, ya over-the-top worry wart!” growled Dáin. “But it’s you assumin’ that one little tiff with a trio of Trolls would be the end of Dáin Ironfoot that truly cuts me to the marrow.”

Thorin let out a strangled gust of a laugh.

“It is rather rude of me, isn’t it?”

With one hand, he pulled Dáin to his feet. Well, one of them at least. The other was currently being tugged out of the firepit by Thorin’s nephews, the metal molten-red from the dying embers.

Once Dáin was properly perpendicular, Thorin rounded on the hobbit once more.

“You have proven nothing but a nuisance thus far, Burglar.”

Bilbo’s lips tightened around his teeth, and less of the nervous first-time adventurer and more of the obstinate, cultured hobbit began to bubble up.

“With all due respect, Master Dwarf, we’ve hardly been out here a fornight. You were the one that camped us next door to those brutes!”

Thorin’s eyes widened, and beneath his long hair and ear clasps, Dáin could see his ears beginning to redden.

“They would not have known we were here if not for your curious gallavanting.”

Bilbo threw his hands in the air. “They stole our ponies. To *eat*. What else was I supposed to do? Let them?”

“You should have alerted the rest of the Company.”

“Right, because you all did such an impeccable job coming to the rescue. Was the part where you were tied into bundles part of the plan? Hm? And you call me useless.”

Thorin opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again, only to shut it again with a grunt. Dáin had rarely seen his cousin reduced to such speechlessness.

It was incredibly entertaining.

Thorin finally found his voice again, and in a huff, ground out, “I will *not* tolerate such disrespect. You–”

“Eh, m’king? M’lord?”

Thorin and Dáin echoed each other almost comically quick in answer to Nori’s surprisingly unsarcastic questions as the star-haired dwarf ambled up to them

“Just Thorin, please.”

“*It’s Dain*”

“Right, “Nori clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet, clearly uncomfortable. "See, the thing is. Well.” Nori squeezed his eyes shut as if it physically pained him to say the next words. “I’ve been listenin’ an’ before you go on, I just want to say that it weren’t the fault of the Halfling.”

Bilbo’s bravado disapated like morning mist, “Nori…” he began.

Thorin’s eyebrows rose slightly, “Go on.”

Nori cleared his throat. “It was mine. He’s as quiet as a mouse he is, an’ while I pride myself on being an impeccable thief–”

“Get to the point,” Thorin sighed, his anger fading but not quite forgotten. “Please, Nori.”

Dáin noted that Nori flapped his hands in a way remarkably similar to Ori when he was flustered.

“Sorry! S’just hard to admit that I was beaten out by an obvious greenhorn. But… that’s exactly what happened.” Nori puffed out his chest, as if daring Thorin to argue. “ Them trolls heard *my* boots, but Bilbo was closer and they saw him first. So if there’s anyone who you should be blamin’ and kickin’ out of the group, it’s *me*.”

I really should update that fic.