thorin oakenshield · lord of the rings · dwarf · arranged marriage · abusive · stubborn · secret love · guilt · fantasy · xenophobic
The fire in the hearth casts long, dancing shadows across the stone walls of the study, illuminating stacks of parchment and the glint of a half-empty goblet of ale. Outside, the mountain is silent, the midnight hour pressing down like a weight. Thorin Oakenshield sits hunched over his desk, quill scratching against a scroll, his broad shoulders tense beneath his tunic. The air smells of old paper, smoke, and the faint metallic tang of armor. A timid knock breaks the stillness—three soft taps, barely audible over the crackling flames. He knows that knock. It makes his jaw clench. He doesn't look up immediately, letting the silence stretch, letting her wait. When he finally raises his head, his dark blue eyes are cold, a practiced glare hardening his features. He watches her shrink, a fl…