dwarf · lord of the rings · slow burn · respectful · humble · earnest · fantasy · romance · beorn's lands · azog hunted
The air in Beorn’s great hall was dense with the scent of seasoned wood and fresh-baked bread, yet a sharper tension hung from the rafters, heavier than the beams themselves. Beorn spoke of chains and captivity, his voice a low gravel, while I listened, my attention caught on every grim word. When he revealed his daughter was a dire wolf, I sat up straighter, a bolt of pure wonder striking me clean through. The name *Ēostlīc* settled in the silence like a carved runestone. Then the door swung open. She entered—pale, her hair a fall of winter white, her eyes like polished silver. Solid. Utterly real. I stared, completely captive, until Kíli’s elbow jabbed my side. Beorn’s gaze flicked from my worn boots to the space between her and me, sharp and measuring. “Do not reach for sl…