Hello everyone! This is an ImaginexReader fic based on the following prompt, taken from the imaginexhobbit Tumblr page:
Imagine having a drinking contest with Bofur and Dwalin and the three of you get really drunk and pass out while Thorin just looks at you and shakes his head.
None of the places or characters in this fic belong to me! Enjoy :-)
"Welcome! Welcome, King Under the Mountain!" The Master of Lake Town boomed over the delighted cheers of the townspeople. Thorin had succeeded in convincing the Master to assist the company, weaving glorious tales of gold and riches beyond imagination. Despite the warnings from Bard the bargeman, who had been the one to smuggle the company into Lake Town in the first place, the townspeople seemed unconcerned at the thought of a fire-breathing dragon lying between them and the riches Thorin had promised.
You had no time to dwell on these thoughts, however, as the dwarves were eagerly ushered towards the Master's great hall by the town guards. It was easily the largest building in the whole town, towering over the surrounding dwellings with multiple balconies, steeples and tall leaded windows. Two double wooden doors opened in front of you to reveal the most homely establishment you had set your eyes on since Rivendell. A warm hearth with a blazing fire on the left, and to your right stood a long table upon which lay enough food to feed at least thirty people. Your mouth begins to water as you try to recall when your last real meal was, after days of being on the road or locked up in elven dungeons.
The rest of the company began to find seats at the table, eager to start eating. They were clearly thinking along the same lines as you; after the meagre meal Bard had provided earlier, hunger was beginning to set in. A kind man he was, you think sorrowfully as you place yourself in between Bofur and Dwalin, who have already started filling their mouths with food. Bard and his children, Sigrid, Tilda, and the boy… Bain, was it? Their lifestyle was a long way from that of the Master of Lake Town. Their cupboards were bare, their hearth fire burnt low, if at all, and all four of them cohabiting together in such cramped conditions. It would also appear that they were not the only family living in such a manner…
To your left, Bofur noticed that you had not had a single bite of food since you sat down. "[Y/N], what's the matter? You have a face worse than an orc in sunlight!"
You sighed gently, smiling at his attempt to humour you. "I just feel sorry for the bargeman, and the rest of the townsfolk here. They are obviously struggling, and here we are, feasting…"
"It's not our town," Dwalin grunted. "The way they do things here is their choice."
Silenced by Dwalin, you start to ponder whether there is anything you can do for Bard in return before the company depart. Aside from a few gold coins in your pocket, you have nothing in your possession.
"You shouldn't worry so much," said Bofur gently, breaking into your thoughts. "I can always tell when you're worrying, you know. A crease appears on your forehead," he tapped your forehead gently. "Don't carry the burdens of others as your own, [Y/N]. It's not healthy."
You manage a weak smile in return for his kind words. Dwalin had clearly had enough of your fretting and thrust a huge glass of brandy into your hand. "Drink," he growled.
Sniffing the edge of the glass, you tilt it cautiously and allow the liquid to touch your lips. The taste burns the inside of your mouth and throat, and you don't know whether you want to cough or gag. Yet somehow, it gives you a warming sensation, and you decide to have a little more. Soon enough, the glass is empty and you feel your cheeks beginning to glow.
You take a look around the table. Fili and Kili were throwing food bits across the table to Bombur, trying to aim for his mouth just like Bofur did at Bag End. Nori and Dori were picking on Ori for not eating his vegetables. Thorin and Balin were quietly discussing something, but they were out of your earshot. A silly smile crept over your face as you looked around at your friends.
Suddenly, the doors at the far end of the hall opened, and a multitude of servants in the service of the Master entered, rolling barrels of ale. The dwarves cheered briefly, but silence fell quickly as mugs of the dark coloured beverage were distributed and consumed. A group of minstrels also entered the great hall and began playing common musical numbers of Lake Town, the lyrics telling great stories and tales. The brandy has already taken effect as you try and fail to concentrate on the minstrel's lyrics.
"Last one standing wins!" Dwalin called over you to Bofur.
"No pauses, no spills!" Bofur replied, lifting his tankard.
"A drinking game? I'm in," your words slur slightly as you reach for the nearest ale.
"I think you've had quite enough for one night!" Bofur laughs, taking the ale out of your reach.
"Bofur," you protest audibly as you stand, snatching back the ale and looking down upon him with determination. "You shouldn't worry so much!" It doesn't take you long to down the entire tankard, the rest of the company cheering you on.
As the night wears on and the ale continues to flow, the room starts to spin and there is a definite heat emitting from your cheekbones. Dwalin laughs as you try to prove to him you can walk in a straight line, handing you yet another mug of ale when you fail to do so. Bofur is singing without a care in the world, and you find yourself dancing around to his songs. As the scenes around you begin to blur and the feast comes to an end, you find yourself nestled under the table next to an already snoring Bofur. The last thing in your vision before your eyelids close completely is the sight of Thorin shaking his head, but instead of disappointment, you see him wearing a smile which seems to say "you'll regret that tomorrow!"