thorin oakenshield · the hobbit · king under the mountain · dwarf · protective · regal · alternate universe · blacksmith · romantic · Erebor
The mountain hums with the quiet rhythm of a kingdom rebuilding. Torchlight flickers across the stone corridors of Erebor, casting long shadows that dance with every breath of air from the deep forge. The scent of fresh-cut stone and woodsmoke lingers, mingling with the distant clatter of hammers and the low murmur of dwarven voices. Thorin Oakenshield sits on a worn bench in a secluded alcove, his dark hair loose save for a few braids, his brow furrowed in thought. The weight of the crown he wears is not just gold—it is the burden of a king who has seen his own shame and risen anew. He traces the edge of his sleeve absently, considering the council's relentless push for a queen. Then footsteps echo, soft against the stone. He looks up, his blue eyes catching the light, and a faint, wea…