Chapter 4: It's From A Movie
"So…" sighed Ori as his son handed his frail father a soothing cup of rosehip tea one chilly evening the following week, "Need I even ask?"
This immediately brought forth a barrage of requests from the eager Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, and Human children as the audience immediately piped up with shouts and pleas.
"Tell us the story of when Jubilee of the X-Men and Primula Brandybuck exhibited that disastrous Middle Earth fashion show in Rivendell!" one female Elf child called out.
"Let's not. Elladan and Elrohir made me swear to not retell that story under the punishment of death considering the years of therapy required to undo the damage Jubilee and Primula had transgressed upon them," Ori retorted with a smile, and none of the children could determine if the old sage was being serious or not.
A human toddler no older than six years of age yelled pleadingly, "Oh, Elder Ori! Please tell the tale of when Spider-Man and Radagast the Brown rescued Babar, the Prince of the Oliphaunts, and defeated the Cult of Tol-in-Gaurhoth!"
"No, I have a better one!" piped up a Dwarf child, "Tell us of the time the Fantastic Four along with Celeborn prevented the resurrection of Ancalagon!"
"Why must there always be stories of war and fighting?" one Fauntling argued, "We should tell a peaceful story! Like when Master Hamfast and Squirrel Girl became friends of the Haradrim because they saved them from starvation!"
"How about when the Ghost Rider and Master Frodo Baggins helped each other heal after the War of the Ring? That is a rather uplifting story, if I do say so myself," one Dale boy asked, only for his fellow Hobbit friends to shoot down with some reluctance.
"Let us not. Something about the Ghost Rider rather…unnerves us Hobbits," one male Fauntling confessed with a grimace.
"Why? The Ghost Rider is as much of a revered Ring Bearer as Frodo!"
"And you never once wondered why that would be the case?"
"If I may have a suggestion…" a deep voice rang out, and this temporarily silenced all the young beings as they turned to see Ori's son who was respectfully standing next to his father with arms crossed and a smile.
Ori's son then politely said, "I would like it if Adad would continue the story about Steven Rogers and Thor Odinson during their stay in Erebor. If it is quite all right with you all."
This immediately brought gracious cheers and words of encouragement.
"Of course, you may! All right! That is all well and good, Master Son of Ri! We would never refuse you, a Captain of the Guards! We don't mind! I personally would like to hear the continuation! Elder Ori, we'd love to hear more about Captain America and Thor Odinson!"
Ori smiled at his eldest before he then asked, "Where did I leave off last week?"
One teenager from Dale politely called out, "You ended it when it was revealed that Master Nori and Master Bifur earned quite a bit of coin due to the attendance of the 'We Love Steven Rogers' fanclubs!"
"Ah, yes…"
Ori chuckled with fond memory over his brother's money-making schemes as he continued, "It was soon discovered that Steve Rogers was actually a decent cook himself, something that would have been deemed unconventional and irregular for most warriors. However, that only increased his appeal amongst his friends and Dori's growing patrons…"
"This is absolutely sublime…" moaned a female Elf in delight as she devoured her treat heartily.
"I have never have tasted something as succulent as this before in my entire life," Sigrid sighed as she washed down her biscuit with a good mouthful of lavender tea.
Glóin's wife, Täli, was truly in a new level of transcendence as she declared, "More! I simply must buy more, Master Rogers!"
"As soon as we get the next batch out of the oven, Lady Täli," Dori promised as he set down a piping plate to Radagast, the Brown Wizard (who eagerly shared his biscuits with the family of hedgehogs nestled in his cloak).
In the background, Beorn the Bear Man and Thor Odinson were lightly wrestling over the last piece on the platter between them, teeth bared and eyes flashing.
"It's mine…" growled Beorn.
"Not without a fight, glutton," Thor rumbled hazardously.
Bombur decidedly settled the matter for the Skinchanger and the Asgardian.
"Thank you! Quite generous of you both!" piped up Bombur as he snatched the lone sandwich right from underneath both Thor and Beorn's noses before popping it into his mouth.
Dori didn't even bat an eye as Bombur screamed bloody murder as he dashed out of the teahouse as expeditiously as he possibly could, with Beorn and Thor close on his heels and ready to tear the obese Royal Cook to pieces.
Bea the Dale barmaid blinked; for a fat Dwarf, Bombur could certainly run when he wanted to. She remarked, "Should we help him?"
"He'll survive…" Dori said offhandedly.
Tilda was less eloquent as she messily got jam and crumbs around her mouth, relishing the creamy and sticky flavor between her teeth as she murmured, "It's delicious."
"Master Rogers, whatever do you call this intriguing concoction?" called out Mafria over the intense bustle and chatter of Dori's packed teahouse, filled to the brim with female patrons and customers from Mirkwood, Dale, and Erebor.
Steven smiled as he looked up from his mixing bowl.
"Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and peanut butter cookies…er, biscuits," the Avenger supplied as he scraped a portion of the freshly made peanut butter into another bowl of flour and eggs, ready to form new pastries for the oven.
This new snack was an immense hit, to say the least.
Everyone simply could not get enough of it.
Even Bilbo, Prince Fíli, Prince Bain, Ori, Bifur, and young Gimli were seated amid the crowded shop, savoring and praising the way how the salty peanut butter complemented the blackberry and cherry jams of the Shire between buttered pieces of thick, soft bread, how the taste of peanut was so thoroughly immersed itself throughout the entire confection in every crumb, and how refreshing the treats were when washed down with Dori's homemade tea or a glass of cool milk…
"Quite a successful achievement, if I do say so myself, Master Dori…" chuckled Gandalf, who was seated with Tauriel, Bea, and Hilna (Bombur's wife) as they feasted on a platter of peanut butter cookies between the four of them. Dori's face was pink with bliss and thrilled elation as he weaved amongst the tables. Even with quite a few customers eating while standing up due to the shortage of floor space and chairs, Dori was triumphant at the requests for more of Steven Roger's cooking.
"Thank you, Master Gandalf," preened Dori with joy, so enthusiastically excited, "With the profits we are making, I am looking to expand the shop into the vacant cavern nearby as well as hire several of Bombur's fellow cooks part-time! And it is all thanks to Steven Rogers!"
"Please don't make a big deal out of it, Mister Dori," Steve tried to sideline, his shoulders moving briskly as he mixed the dough with a crude whisk he requested to be specially made from the Great Forges, "I'm just repaying my debt to you for the kindness you have shown me. Nothing more. This entire accomplishment's is only due to your teas and Bilbo's baked goods. I'm just helping out."
"Now, now, now, no need to be cripplingly modest, Master Steven! It is I who owes you so much for keeping my dear tea shop alive!" Dori laughed, clapping Steve solidly on the back and causing the Avenger to wince a bit in pain. Dori's eyes then glinted with playful mischief as he then made his next daring move.
"You know, my young brother Ori has been flourishing under your company," Dori suggested meaningfully as he leaned closer to Steve, "Perhaps you too have noticed his growing feelings for such a brave and gallant artist as yourself?"
Steven's eyes widened as he then hurriedly ducked his head, concentrating on mixing the batter, but Dori was pleased to see the flush of red creeping in the Man's cheeks and neck. Dori already started envisioning how fetching Steven would look in the Dwarven ceremonial robe of brown and gray furs to contrast his blue eyes as he joined in matrimony with his youngest brother.
Ori groaned.
"Dori, stop! I have Dwalin!" wailed Ori, already feeling completely mortified and humiliated.
"Ori is merely just being a bit foolish," Dori covered smoothly, "Nothing is definite yet."
"Mister Dori, we need to get the next batch of peanut butter ready for more sandwiches. We're running low on bread and butter too. Also, could you check on the cookies in the oven? We need the trays for this batter I'm mixing," Steve sidetracked smoothly as a distraction. Dori didn't seem the least disappointed in the lack of Steven's response as he twittered on his way to the pantry for another loaf of bread.
"Oh, Steven! You have worked so hard to bring me so much for my establishment! I wish you would let me pay you for your services! It is only fair and right!" Dori gushed, but Steven shook his head as he added more flour to his mixing bowl.
"No, I will not accept any sort of payment. I repeat, I just am doing this to not only repay you for the kindness you have shown me, but because your store is important to you and to Ori. You are his brother, after all."
"Nonsense!" protested Dori as he sliced bread so quickly, Ori was worried about his brother slicing his fingers at the same time, "You are a respected and trusted worker in my shop! I always pay my workers!"
"I object! You are not paying me at all!" whined Nori from the background, serving tea and cookies, and looking completely dour and resentful as he plodded around bad-naturedly in his frilly, white, lace apron (adding to the humiliation).
Dori looked completely unabashed.
"You are my brother. Of course I am not paying you to work in my shop. Especially considering you are merely remunerating for all the times you have given Ori and I grief with your past offenses with the law."
"You are one to talk, brother, since you failed to lecture me about law abiding when my 'offenses' brought food for our table, clothes on our backs, and paper and quill and ink for Ori!"
"The tables in the back need more jam and cream. Also, some of the dirty dishes are piling up on the floor. Now, chop-chop!" Dori said in a condescending and dismissive tone of voice as he shooed Nori away, enjoying the look of humiliated anger on his younger sibling's face.
Grumbling, Nori haphazardly collected all the dishes after rudely plonking down bowls of jam and cream for various female customers before running back towards the kitchen in a temperamental manner.
Unfortunately, it looked like Nori wasn't even watching where he was going as he was headed directly into Steven Rogers who was carrying a full bowl of peanut butter cookie mixture at the same instant.
Wham!
Steve let out a noise of surprise as Nori, in his hurry to rush from the tables to the wooden tub of dirty dishes, accidentally collided directly into Steve with his full burden. Cups and saucers and plates dropped to the stone floor as well as the mixing bowl Steve was holding, shattering into miniscule porcelain fragments as Nori flailed and fell backwards upon the impact. Only for Steve to gently grab the Spymaster by the waist.
"You OK, Mister Nori?" Steve asked.
"Only my pride. Thank you," grumbled Nori as he hurriedly pushed himself out of Captain America's arms and brushed himself off, glad that there was no damage to his clothes (never mind the broken china on the floor). But then Dori's lament of horror made Nori look up and wince at the sight of Steven's shirt and pants.
Steven's T-shirt and the crotch area of his slacks were absolutely ruined, smeared with a mixture of peanut butter dough, cream, jam, and leftover tea from Nori's dirty dishes. Though thankfully Steven wasn't cut or bruised in the slightest, his clothes were utterly ruined and stained. There were various exclamations of gasps of shock and scandal as Bilbo hurriedly came up to Steven and tried to mop up his stomach with his napkin. Unfortunately, the mess was too thick and goopy to fully remove. Not to mention that Steven was not wearing anything else.
"Why did you not don an apron?" Bilbo asked as a melodramatically wailing Dori hurried over with a tea towel.
"There weren't any! They were all gone when I started my shift! And then we got so busy and packed in the teahouse, I didn't have any time to find any more!" Steve heatedly explained as he shed off his T-shirt, showing his bare chest muscles, abs, and rosy skin, many of which drew hushed intakes of breath and delighted squeals from the female patrons of the teahouse.
Nori snapped his fingers as he declared his mistake.
"Oh by Mahal, I forgot!" Nori realized out loud, "I was going to do the laundry piles from Dori's tea shop, but I needed to carry out one of the Spymaster missions Thorin gave me last night. Quite sorry about that, Steven, lad."
"You imbecile!" roared Dori as he took Nori by the ear with one hand and twisted hard, "Look at the mess you've made on my floor and on dear Steven, you careless, irresponsible oaf! Why do I even - ?!"
"Ow! Gerroff me you crazy - !" swore Nori in pain as he tried to writhe out of his brother's iron grip.
"Steven, Dori, the biscuits are burning!" Ori called out urgently from the sidelines as wafts of smoke were beginning to percolate in the air, and hurriedly, Steve managed to dash forward towards the ovens and extract the ten trays of cookies from the over as speedily as possible. Though they were darker than golden brown, thankfully, they were not scorched and still mouthwateringly delicious. Steve called out as he began piling the fresh cookies into the plates of the demanding customers.
"Mister Dori, it's OK! I still need to make a new batch of batter for the incoming rush! I can work without a shirt for now! Just get me a new shirt and an apron later!" Steve commanded with the same authority any Captain would on the battlefield.
"Let me assist you, Steven," Bilbo said as he efficiently worked side by side the hulking Man as he went behind the counter. While this was going on, Nori, rubbing his sore ear, seemed particularly interested in putting as much distance between himself and his fuming brother, with Dori's eyes like flaming coal and his face flushed in a snarl.
Nori tried to whistle away any responsibility on his part for the accident as he innocently said, "Er…why don't I just get a broom and sweep up - ?"
Dori irately cut him off as he then grabbed a big pile of dirty towels and rags along with Steven's shirt from the laundry basket and thrust them into Nori's arms, barking angrily, "You will do no such thing! You have already cost me enough coin with all the broken dishes and china from your tomfoolery! And there is no way in Mahal's Forge that I will entrust you with the task of cleaning up your messes and leave this rug smelling like discarded food! Take these washings and launder them now! I expect to see you return here with Steven's shirt so clean and pressed, it would smell as fresh as a spring breeze!"
"But that shall take hours!" whined Nori, but Dori would have none of it as he returned with a mop and a bucket of hot, sudsy water.
"GO! Before I take this mop to your backside!"
"Slave driver…" muttered Nori as he trudged away, narrowly avoiding the swipe Dori delivered with the broom handle at his rear end. However, he slowed down as he passed by the table where Sigrid and a few female Elves were drooling at the sight of Steven's muscles flexing powerfully as Steve mixed cream, sugar, oil, and peanuts and began grinding them in the giant stone pestle and mortar.
"As delivered. My payment, if you please," Nori whispered without even turned his head.
Without missing a beat or averting her gaze, a female Elf dropped a bulging sack of money into the Dwarf spymaster's hand, eagerly hissing, "For the sight of a bare-chested Steven Rogers cooking in the kitchen, it is worth every coin!"
"Steven eventually caught on to the reason why he was involved with so many minor accidents that ruined his clothing after the fifth time," the elderly Ori giggled with the other children.
"How did Captain America take being used as a victim of voyeurism?" a young Dwarf snickered.
Ori chuckled as he then reported, "Steven actually told Nori to ask Thor Odinson for future stripteases because unlike Steven, Thor would be willing to do them for free."
"Here you go, little guys…" murmured Steven Rogers as the mass of hedgehogs eagerly squeaked and chirped at the sight of the kind Captain America, though hulking and so massive comparatively to the small beasts, gently setting down a small plate of apple and carrot slices along with a dish of water. Radagast the Brown Wizard was at Erebor giving a status update of the Goblin movements from the North, and of course, he was reminded none too gently by Gandalf that his pets were not welcome in the meetings due to being a distraction.
Steven Rogers then gently announced that Thor could take over for him temporarily while he watched over the little guys in Bilbo's Royal Garden in the Lonely Mountain, a safe haven if there ever was one.
This brought many sneers and scoffs of disdain from the male Dwarves (Thorin especially) thinking the Avenger was simply using the animals as an excuse to laze about and skip the consultations.
Bilbo, however, smiled softly while Radagast eagerly thanked Captain America and praised him like one of the Vala, nearly grateful enough to bend down and kiss Steven's feet in appreciation.
Gandalf thankfully stopped his fellow Istari before he could actually go that far.
Steven chuckled at the sight of the small, prickly mammals clambering over the luscious treats while the hedgehog named Sebastian eagerly and thankfully cooed while rubbing his head against Steven's thigh and pants leg.
There was a sudden caw from the side, and Steven looked up to the see Roäc perched on the iron bannister along with twenty other Ereborian Ravens from the rookery. Steven smiled as he made a polite bow and said, "Good Morning, Roäc. Thank you for coming by."
"'Tis always a pleasure to deal with a polite and easy-going Man such as yourself," Roäc said as he preened his feathers of his right wing with his beak as the other crows and blackbirds gazed at Steven eagerly. The blond Man chuckled as he heaved two small troughs at the foot of the railing, wide enough for all of the avians to comfortably gather around.
"This is my way of thanking you for helping us track down Alfrid Lickspittle and saving Bain, Gimli, and Bilbo. Fresh cracked corn mixed with bacon fat and shelled peanuts, fresh from Bilbo's crop," Steve said, and all the Ravens eagerly set themselves for a feast as they cawed thanks and praise to the Avenger. With a mouth full of bacon and corn, Roäc looked up at Steven and solemnly nodded.
"Master Steven Rogers, few Dwarves outside the Seven Families and even fewer Men treat our flocks with such respect and compassion. I speak for all of us when I say we would gladly serve and assist you for all your days here in Middle Earth, a soldier who is worthy to be a King."
As Steven chuckled at the compliment, watching from an alcove high above another part of the Lonely Mountain was a cross Dwalin, grumbling under his breath as he glared at Captain America. Balin, who was next to him and had just left the meeting with Gandalf and Radagast minutes earlier, exhaled wearily as he walked next to his brother.
"Do you not think that perhaps you are boing a bit too pejorative towards Captain America?" Balin asked.
"He's nothing but a damned menace…" spat Dwalin, "A scalawag who ursurps and agitates chaos wherever he goes! Look how easily he turns our own Ravens in his favor! Everyone loves him!"
Balin wisely decided to not comment if whether it was the fact that Ori that liked Steven that was so bothersome as he soothed, "Oh come now. You are just exaggerating."
But then even Balin had to blink in surprise as King Thranduil's giant Elk emerged from the foliage of Bilbo's gardens, appearing in full view before Steven smiled at the graceful steed.
"Here you go, some clover and chard and strawberry leaves," Steven commented as he set down a generous basket of said greens, only to laugh unexpectedly as the Mirkwood Elk gently licked Steve's cheek and neck as thanks, mooing genially throughout.
Considering that the Royal Steed of Mirkwood was trained to only trust Thranduil and Legolas…
Dwalin practically howled to the sky, hands clawing into his head.
"EVERYONE!"
"That sort of anger seems to be a bit premature, I daresay…" commented one Elf boy.
"To be quite honest, it had been building for a while…" Ori returned amiable with a smile wistfully.
"Steve…" Ori asked, looking up from his quill and paper.
It was a nice and cool evening, and though there was no moon, the deep dark sky filled with clouds and tinged with red indicated that a rainstorm was fast approaching. However, Ori loved quiet nights like this, just him and Steve, drawing images of the Front Gates of Erebor, just the two of them.
No, he would not be scared and chicken out. Not this time.
"Yes? Something on your mind, Ori?" Steve asked, chuckling as he looked up from his sketchpad.
"I…I…"
Ori felt his heart pound painfully against his ribs, making it hard to breathe, and poor Ori felt like he was going to hyperventilate if he could ever unclog the psychological blockage from his throat.
Steve just waited patiently like a saint as he regarded his friend at full attention.
"I…I was wondering…if perhaps…"
Ori faltered as he felt his heart was going to explode out of fright and anticipation before failing him.
"…if perhaps I am drawing this correctly!" Ori hurriedly covered as he lost his nerve, showing his charcoal sketch of the Front Gates to the Avenger. If Steve was unsatisfied or disappointed with the scribe's shallow excuse, he did not exhibit such emotions as he leaned over with an approving eye.
"Not bad…" Steve mused before he did something quite touching (in Ori's point of view).
Gently, Steve took out a Winsor and Newton Vine and Willow charcoal stub out of his drawing pouch and handed it to the Dwarf. Ori was shell-shocked as he silently marveled at the strange invention, the drawing implement that always flew as swiftly as the wind in Steven's fingers and left behind images of pure, aesthetic beauty.
Ori would have readily thought that the pencil Steve bequeathed was a holy relic.
"Use this to smudge the lines a bit so that the shadows will blend more against the nighttime environment. Just hold it between your thumb and forefinger and have the palm of your hand face the paper," Steve instructed.
"Like…like this?" asked Ori as he tried to smudge the charcoal line exactly as Steve did, gingerly holding the pencil as if it were made of fragile glass. Captain America chuckled as he then did something quite forward which took Ori completely by surprise.
Steve ambled behind Ori before he gently took Ori's hands and removed his fingerless mittens, placing the knitted hand-garments on the bench next to them. And before Ori realized it, the Dwarf Scribe was being enveloped in Steve's strong arms as Steve placed his hands on top of Ori's, guiding the Dwarf's movements in a firm yet instructive manner. Ori felt his heart beat a bit faster as he felt Steve kneeling behind, looming his face over his shoulder as he gave instructions.
"Like this, Ori…" Steve intoned gently as he moved Ori's thumb and hand to create a perfectly smeared mark with the vine charcoal stick. Ori marveled at how extraordinary Steve's drawing tools were, not to mention that despite his callused hands and strength, Steve's hands were so soft and tender…
Ori felt himself grow hot underneath his collar.
No, focus on the drawing and the newfound way of using the unique tools. Do not focus on how Ori could almost feel Steven's heartbeat given how closely Steve's hard chest was pressed against his back, how Steven's skin smelled like the fragrant chestnut soap Bilbo always purchased from the Shire, and how Steven's breath was warm and sweet as it playfully tickled his cheek and braids like how Dwalin would do so in the early morning as he whispered affectionate nothings in Ori's ear...
Oh damn.
Ori quietly pressed his legs together, hoping Steven didn't notice. Thankfully, the Captain didn't say anything.
And unbeknownst to either of them, amid the shadows upon in the ramparts above the Front Gates, Dwalin stared at the scene of Steve getting closer to Ori, eyes glittering with absolute rage and his face growing red.
-0-
"Needless to say, things did not get much better between Dwalin and Steven from then on…" sighed Ori as he took a sip of tea.
"Who in Yavanna's Green Fields could be so callous enough as to lace your armor with poison oak?" muttered Bilbo to himself as he and Ori fretted over Steve Rogers as he was doing his best not to writhe and scratch at the numerous red welts and rashes covering his entire body from the neck down.
Steve, Bilbo, and Ori were all alone in the Royal Infirmary of Erebor, doing their best to tend to the Avenger's condition. Inopportunely, Óin was nowhere to be found in the Royal Infirmary, apparently temporarily leaving his offices due to an emergency Dwalin summoned him for (according to the note he scribbled behind). Leaving no one to help them with their predicament.
Thankfully, Ori recognized several of Óin's homemade ointments (due to the various maladies they endured on the Quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain from Smuag), and between the Hobbit and Dwarf, they did their best to provide some relief to poor Steven.
It would have been bearable had the villain not additionally snuck several leaves into the crotch area of Steve's pants.
Hence why Steven was completely naked with a small towel to cover his modesty in the middle of Óin's Royal Infirmary in order to mend his malady as Bilbo and Ori wiped away the poisonous sap with hot water and towels, rubbing medicines on his swelling and bumpy skin.
Ori did his best to not sneak a peek, trying to be respectful.
Captain America's eyes narrowed at Bilbo's question as the Hobbit and the Dwarf continued to gingerly massage Óin's soothing herbal pastes on his broad back and legs.
He had a pretty good idea who was behind this prank…
Still, there was no point in trying to look for a fight without proof.
And Steve had to admit it was rather pleasant to have both Bilbo and Ori tend to him, with their hands caressing and working the cool salves into his skin. He forgot what it was like to be intimate, the calm of having someone you trust to care for you, the sensation of bare skin against skin. So nice, so light, soft and gentle as Bucky's hands were when they first made love as Bucky embraced Steve in their dingy Brooklyn apartment under the thin cotton sheet…
Steve's eyes flew open and swallowed heavily, trying his best to not give in to the pleasant drumming in his loins upon the memory.
And in that moment…
"Steven?" called out Thor's voice, "I heard from Master Bofur and Bombur that you have been struck ill, and that I could find you in the Royal Infirmary. Are you all - ?"
The Asgardian's voice trailed off as he strode into the sanatorium, stunned as he took in the naked Steven Rogers, flushed and his body peppered with bloody rashes and white ointments, and with Bilbo and Ori tending to him. Ori had to admit that this was the first time he had ever seen the Prince of Asgard so flummoxed.
One second passed, then five as Thor just stared.
Then to everyone's surprise…
"Oh, thank Odin Allfather and the Celestials! I have truly entered the finest rewards of Valhalla!" cried Thor in pleasured thrill, his voice an octave higher and his wide. Thor's hands were clasped together in front of him and his blue eyes shone with excitement, a look of uncharacteristic and enthusiastic joy dancing on his face before Thor hurriedly rushed off to the conjoining rooms of the Royal Infirmary. Despite being out of sight, the three occupants could hear the slight rustling of Thor's armor and cape within as Thor bungled around.
Steve, Bilbo, and Ori were temporarily rendered speechless at what just transpired, confused and mystified. Despite the years of working with Thor in the Avengers Initiative, Steve was still staring blankly, wondering if perhaps Thor has temporarily lost his mind or if Thor was replaced with a doppelganger.
"Did…did Thor Odinson just squeal like a young Dwarrowdam?" blinked Ori, not sure if his eyes were fooling him.
"If I had not seen it, I would have never believed it," Bilbo said, dazed.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" roared a familiar deep voice laced with surprised outrage. Steven winced as he, Bilbo, and Ori turned towards the doorway of the infirmary to see a red-faced Thorin Oakenshield, bristling and clearly not very happy at the sight that greeted him.
"I come following that Asgardian idiot and what do I find?! You best have a non-perverse explanation for this!" roared Thorin.
Bilbo calmly spoke in a voice that one usually earned when dealing with an emotionally-constipated husband, "Thorin, some scoundrel laced Steven's armor and battle attire with poison oak, and as a result, Steven is afflicted with the sap. We are trying to lessen the severity of his rashes."
"And pray tell why in the name of Mahal are you two taking the task of rubbing down his naked body?" demanded Thorin, and Bilbo rolled his eyes at the jealous tone.
"Because Óin is temporarily out of the infirmary. Dwalin summoned him to set a trainee's leg that got broken during the guards' drills. The Royal Infirmary was abandoned when we tried to take Steven for help with his ailment."
Ori then decided to chip in.
"Thorin, we were merely attempting to help Steve. As we should help any other friend of Erebor," Ori said pointedly.
Normally, Captain America would be a little more polite in such circumstances, but as of now, he could not help but snap a bit impatiently with sarcasm.
Steve asked, "Your Majesty, would you prefer to take over? At this point, I wouldn't mind an Orc if it means getting some relief from this stupid poison oak!"
Thorin narrowed his eyes at the Captain, but he could admit a bit to himself that perhaps (just perhaps) he jumped to conclusions far too quickly.
Suddenly, an eager Thor sprang into everyone's view as he emerged from the neighboring room. To everybody's surprise and disbelief (and in Thorin's case, outraged horror), Thor was now devoid of most clothing except his undergarments (which led little room for imagination for the massive bulge in the crotch area). Bare-chested and lacking of shirt, armor, and pants, Thor grinned expectantly as he opened his arms wide, as if wanting a hug.
"Bilbo Baggins, it is now my turn!" Thor declared, "Rub me down next!"
Thorin let out an anguished howl that sounded quite similar to a strangled donkey.
Three minutes later…
"What was that?" Tilda asked as she and her family were eating breakfast in their home in Dale, her hand paused on spooning her sweetened mash to her mouth.
"An explosion?" Bain blinked after his ears stopped ringing from the detonation, with various murmurs of confusion wafting all around Dale upon response to the sudden blast, "It is quite early in the morning for the Dwarves to use their blasting powders for their mining activities."
"…I don't think it is from the mines," Sigrid sighed as she watched from the kitchen window.
"What makes you say that?" Bain asked as he and Tilda joined their elder sister.
"Smoke from the Dwarves' blasting powders isn't colored purple and orange," Sigrid pointed out as they all witnessed long, snakelike plumes of colored air and ashes billowing out of control from the far side of the Lonely Mountain. It was almost as vivid as Gandalf's fireworks as the bright morning sky shone down on the gaping outlet in the rock wall that was clearly alight with flame.
Although it was nowhere as colorful as the multitude of shouting and cursing echoing throughout the Dwarven Kingdom.
"Is…is that screaming?" Bain asked, trying to hone in on the angry voice bellowing at the top of their lungs, "It almost sounds like Thorin Oakenshield."
"It is Thorin Oakenshield," confirmed Sigrid, unable to help herself as she smiled wryly, "And I suspect that he and Thor Odinson are having another fight."
"And you know this how exactly? I think King Thorin is speaking in Khuzdul."
"Prince Fíli secretly taught me a few words without his Uncle's knowledge."
"Would they happen to be all curse words?"
"…Maybe."
"Is Master Thorin cursing now?" Tilda asked curiously.
"Quite," Sigrid said, and all three of them giggled and laughed as the brawl and screaming match continued on in its full and violent glory at Erebor in the distance.
"Children, come back and eat your oatmeal," Bard sighed, sidetracking the issue as he looked over today's itineraries without looking up from the dining table.
It was far too early in the morning to deal with Thorin Oakenshield's theatrics …
"And that was how the Great Infirmary Explosion of Erebor Between Thorin Oakenshield and Thor Odinson came to be," Ori concluded after the gale of laughter and hysterical giggling calmed down.
"I always wondered how those scorch marks got on the ceiling," mused one Dwarfling.
"Who knew that throwing around volatile medicines could have such an incendiary effect when combined?" another Dwarf asked no one in particular.
"I imagine Master Óin was hardly happy with the situation," one Dale girl piped up.
"Thankfully, he reacted well enough and was gracious about the accident," Ori said, smiling.
"YOU DESTROYED MY INFIRMARY!" screeched a red-faced Óin in a unbelievably outraged tone, red faced and uncharacteristically furious as he bellowed at the sooty and mulish Thorin Oakenshield who was giving Thor the mother of all death glares as he held a cold compress against his swollen mouth.
The fact that Thor was melodramatically wailing and whimpering like a kicked puppy and clearly relishing the attention from Bilbo and Ori did not abate Thorin's vehemence in the slightest. Like a doting mother, Bilbo murmured soft words of encouragement as he extracted the pieces of glass embedded in Thor's skin and face (considering Thorin smashed several glass bottles on Thor's head in the scuffle) and bandaged the Asgardian's face with ointments and sticky cloths.
All the meanwhile, Thor was still practically naked in his undergarments and truly savoring Bilbo's touch.
In fact, Thor looked so gleeful and appreciative of Bilbo murmuring sweet words while plucking shards with a tweezer, the Asgardian looked like he was about to pick up Bilbo and kiss him fervently right then and there as an extreme case of Nightingale Syndrome.
Thorin would have tried tackling Thor again if not for Steven Rogers, still naked and infested with poison oak rashes, and with a small towel wrapped around his waist, standing at full attention with arms crossed over his chest and putting himself sternly between Thorin and Thor as a human blockade.
Leave it to Steve to have enough foresight…
"YOU DESTROYED MY INFIRMARY!" roared Óin again, this time directly in Thorin's face as various Dwarven Guards did their best to put out the fire inside, making an assembly-line and passing buckets of water up and down. Thorin then snapped back, not the least bit happy.
"Do not raise your voice at me, Master Óin!" shouted back Thorin, "I am your King, and I will be addressed as – ACK! Gak, gack, acccck!"
"YOU DESTROYED MY INFIRMARY!" hollered the furious Óin as he was now actually throttling Thorin (to everyone's outrage and horror), Thorin choking and turning red in the face as he vainly tried to beat the incensed Óin away. But he was damned to know that for an old Dwarf, Óin has a good amount of solid muscle in his palms and forearms as he persisted in strangling his King (and apparently, Óin was more than willing to forsake his Healer's Vow for this one exception).
"Mister Óin! Stop! Stop! You're making things worse!" Steve interpolated as he rushed forward and tried to break the two Dwarves up, with Óin still have a vise-like grip of steel around Thorin's throat.
"Bilbo, aren't you going to stop this and save Thorin?" Ori asked warily.
"I daresay Thor's wounds need to be tended first," harrumphed Bilbo irately, clearly not the least bit pleased with Thorin's destructive jealousy and how despicable his attitude was towards Thor and Steven before snapping at his patient, "And wipe that satisfied smirk off your face, Thor Odinson! If you have not stripped yourself nearly naked and bared your body before everyone, none of this debacle would have ever happened!"
"…I notice nowhere in your admonishment did you mention that you did not like what you saw," Thor tried flirting with a sly grin as he wiggled his eyebrows.
This was met with a gentle slap upside his head via a flustered (and blushing) Bilbo Baggins.
"Elder Ori, is it true that Master Óin had something to do with King Thorin's mysterious and repeated case of the runs every night until the Royal Infirmary was fully rebuilt and stocked?" one male Elf child asked, leering and one eyebrow raised.
"I can neither confirm nor deny," Ori said roguishly with a subtle wink, invoking the children and youngsters all around him to chuckle.
"I'm surprised that Master Óin did not throttle Master Dwalin as well when it was revealed he was behind Steven Rogers' ailment," pointed out one male Dwarf child.
"Balin and Thorin decided with a… progressive sentence for him…" Ori said, wincing at the memory as he chose his words selectively.
"And so, are we all in agreement with the latest and final draft of the fertilizer charter? Any opposed?" the snooty Elf scholar asked to the audience in a monotonous tone.
Please let this end soon, Dwalin begged desperately in his mind, internally screaming and doing his best to not bolt out of the meeting room. One could imagine how much his mind wailed in agony when he learned no alcohol would be served during this conference.
"Are we all in agreement that elk dung shall not be permitted in said soil except for requisitions to the Shire and to Bilbo Baggins of Erebor? Any opposed?"
Please let this end soon, Dwalin begged as he wished he was anywhere else except in Mirkwood. By the Forge and Anvil of Mahal, he'd even rather be in Mordor than in this damned consultation!
"Just as a final reminder: the mixture of soil to be delivered to the Shire must be one part clay, three parts wood, three parts loam, one part river sand, two part peat moss, and two parts sawdust?"
Please let this end soon, Dwalin begged as his fingers flexed desperately to hold Grasper and Keeper, eager to spill blood and decapitate every Man and Elf seated all around the table if it meant getting that blasted Mirkwood ponce to shut up once and for all.
"Whereas the mixture of soil to be delivered to Dale must be one part clay, three parts wood, one part loam, two parts river sand, three parts peat moss, two parts sawdust, and an additional part of fallen leaf compost. Have we settled on this being correct?"
Please let this end soon, Dwalin begged, now anxious and forlornly eager enough to go fight another horde of Cave Trolls, an Army of Goblins, even Azog himself if it meant getting away from all these blasted farm and crop ledgers.
"Then it is settled," the Elf academic declared as he shuffled the leaves of parchment and stamped them with the Royal Seal of the Mirkwood Kingdom to finalize and notarize the agreement in full.
"Thank Mahal…" murmured Dwalin to himself in Khuzdul, ready to bolt out of the sanctuary, screaming.
After three hours…
Three very long hours…
Three very long hours of going after debates, nitpicks, and arguments of which fertilizer would be best to use for shipments of soil and dirt, Dwalin was finally, finally free…
The arbitrator then took out a new report for the Men, Elves, and lone Dwarf present.
"Now, for the next item in our agenda: which worm repellant will suit best for the nut and apple crops this year. We must debate the benefits and disadvantages of mixing lime with black ashes."
Dwalin felt his forehead swim in anguish as he ground his teeth together painfully, one side of his jaw tense and rigid with suffering.
"…I am going to kill my brother and my King after I kill Steven. They all deserve to die," Dwalin hissed to himself in Khuzdul, as one corner of his right eye began to twitch ever so slightly, the vein in his forehead throbbing an ugly blue.
"Ouch," flinched a Dale girl.
"…that is quite an infernal punishment," admitted another female Dwarf.
Ori sighed at the memory before he continued, "Things steadily declined and got worse from there on. Due to his humiliation and fear of losing me, Dwalin became more and more obsessed with attempting to triumph over Steven in an effort to demean Captain America…"
"Captain America!" Dwalin called out loudly for everyone nearby to overhear him as Steve just stepped past the Front Gates of Erebor with Tauriel from their mission in the Earth Eater tunnels. Both were dusty and covered with dirt and soil from hours of ducking in the shadows and crawling through tight spaces and inserting spikes of silver and copper into the ground (Tauriel still had no idea what Steven Rogers was planning).
The Mirkwood She-Elf looked a little uneasy, given how Dwalin was seated already in front of a small stone table with stools, surrounded by a bunch of Ereborian Guards, all of them smirking in anticipation.
Steven thankfully remained neutral as he looked on with a nod of his head.
"Yes? What can I do for you, Mister Dwalin?" Steven asked politely.
"I challenge you to a contest of arm wrestling! The best of five rounds!" Dwalin dared.
"I respectfully decline," Steven replied strongly, and with that he turned and continued walking away.
The spectators and onlookers blinked, with Dwalin and his guards being the most taken aback by the answer.
"Scared, are you?" sneered Grugim, one of the Ereborian second-in-commands.
The entranced audience held their breath, expecting the blond Man to quickly take offense. But to Tauriel's pure admiration, Steven turned and looked no more insulted as if one were asking about the weather.
"If that's what you think," Steve said, shrugging easily, before leaving to go give his report and status update to Balin and the Ereborian advisors.
Dwalin's annoyance began to rise…
Three days later…
"Captain America!" Dwalin called out loudly, his boast echoing throughout the mines and gaining attention of all the workers. Steve bit back a sigh as he popped out the kinks in his back from pushing the minecart with Bifur and Bofur, all three of them sooty and covered with a sheet of dust and grime from pushing rocks and helping strengthen the support beams of the tunnels to prevent cave-ins. Not to mention lining all the mines with copper and silver studs. Both Bofur and Bifur looked incredibly uneasy, and Bofur made a move to get in front of Steven in a protective manner, but the Avenger stopped the Dwarf by laying a gentle hand on Bofur's shoulder. Despite being absolutely filthy and dressed in a white, sleeveless shirt and jeans (with his shield still strapped to his back), Steve respectfully stood at full attention as he nodded at Dwalin.
"Yes? How may I help you?" Steve asked politely.
"I challenge you to a mining competition! Whoever can excavate and quarry the most gold from our Mountain's tunnels within one hour!" Dwalin ventured conceitedly.
"I respectfully decline," Steven responded, and with that he turned and (with a subtle hand-gesture from Bifur that it was all right) made his way towards the path upwards to the surface, eager for a hot bath.
Dwalin frowned, growling in his throat while the other Dwarves around him rumbled and grumbled condescendingly with insult. Palli, one of the Ereborian Guards, yelled out in accusation, "Hah! We knew it! You are a coward!"
Another daring Dwarf then called out with malice, "If you walk away, you ponce, then we'll let everyone in our kingdom know that you're afraid to meet a challenge from our mighty Captain Dwalin!"
"No, not afraid," called Steve, looking over his shoulder, "I just have nothing to prove. Have a nice day."
And with that, he left.
Bifur and Bofur felt a sinking feeling of unease as Dwalin's hands clenched into fists around the handle of his pick, his teeth grit.
Dwalin's annoyance was now bubbling, percolating to dangerous levels…
One week later…
"Captain America!" Dwalin called out loudly right in the middle of the training grounds right as Thor and Steve (both shirtless from sparring and immensely sweaty – much to their female fans' delight) were about to leave. Steven exhaled therapeutically from his nose as he turned to the Captain of the Guard, noting that Dwalin looked a bit…desperate and anxious.
"I, Dwalin, Son of Fundin, and with the blessings of King Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, both request a contest with Steven Rogers and Thor Odinson. The contest shall be a race with Dwarven chariots pulled by our Ereborian Rams, a race around the Lonely Mountains and the Gray Mountain Ridges. The test is extended to both of you to try against our Royal Majesty and his trusted Captain as seconds."
Though Thor Odinson would have readily and automatically accepted the trial on principle, he slowly looked at Steven, gauging his friend's response. Steven shook his head, sending Dwalin's ire to new heights.
"I respectfully decline," Steven said, and with that, both he and Thor left the training grounds.
Or at least they tried to.
With a signal from Dwalin, ten Dwarf Guards immediately flanked each other and blocked the exit out of the training grounds in a straight line, tense and ready to draw out their weapons if they had to (although to be fair, one or two of the Dwarves looked fearful enough to wet their pants).
"We cannot allow you to leave, Master Rogers and Thor Odinson," declared Grugim stoutly.
Both Thor and Steven narrowed their eyes.
The audience watching this had numerous gasps and quiet inhalations of breaths, eyes wide and mouths open. Mafria and Bea from Dale both were white in the face as they clasped each other's' hands tightly. Ori nearly dropped his sketchbook, and even Nori (who was hiding in the shadows) was stunned, taken aback.
Fíli was about to intervene when thankfully, with months of practice, Bilbo diplomatically jumped in.
"Oh, excuse me!" chimed in Bilbo pleasantly, pushing his way and elbowing through the line of stunned Ereborian Guards, "Pardon me! I say, you simply must brush your teeth! Excuse me! Please, I must go through! Ah, Steven and Thor! I was hoping I could find you both! One of the apple trees in the Royal Garden has been uprooted and fallen due to the shallow soil! Could I perhaps ask for your assistance? The tree is far too large for a Dwarf!"
Steve and Thor seamlessly fell into place at the distraction.
"With pleasure, Brother Bilbo," Thor bowed, smiling as the Consort of the Mountain led Steven and Thor past the flabbergasted Dwarf guards and out of the training rooms, skillfully helping them exit from Dwalin's challenge.
There was a round of muttering from the guards as the Hobbit led them away.
"I cannot believe this!" growled one Dwarf in Khuzdul.
"Those fops are hiding behind the Hobbit's apron strings!" griped another Dwarf.
Dwalin, cheeks and face burning, looked in betrayed rage at Bilbo's retreating back as he led Steven and Thor away. At the same time, Steven clandestinely shot Bilbo a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Bilbo."
"I can talk to Thorin and make Dwalin and his Guards stop this petty feud," offered Bilbo, only to be shot down with a fierce shake of Steve's head.
"That will just encourage them to try harder, and not to mention that I'm already well disliked by a lot of people in Middle Earth. Having them think that I had to tattle on them towards King Thorin is just going to cause more resentment and anger towards me. It's fine. I can handle this, and it's not even at the point where it's going to hurt anyone."
"For how long, Steven?" Thor asked with a rare bit of introspection, "You cannot keep avoiding this forever."
"And what of the next time Dwalin tries to get his Guards to physically harass you? What then?" Bilbo demanded.
"Water off a duck's back," Steve shrugged, pretending he didn't care, "I'll deal with it when the time comes."
Another week later, in the city of Dale, right in the middle of the main square during mid-day…
"CAPTAIN AMERICA!" Dwalin bellowed loudly, getting the attention of every Man, Woman, and Child in the precinct as they all stopped and stared at the Ereborian Captain, flanked by his troop of Dwarves. Steven and Thor were both on their way back from a meeting with Bard and several of his advisors, and unfortunately, they had to cross the piazza in order to reach the main exit out of the city.
Where Dwalin and his Dwarves were waiting for them.
Steve steeled himself into a neutral expression as he stood at full attention while Thor remained next to him, respectfully silent. Steve did not even bother asking for what Dwalin wanted, but he did nod his head at the bald, burly Dwarf.
Dwalin took out his axe, Grasper, and pointed it at Captain America, declaring loudly, "I, Dwalin, Son of Fundin, come with a royal order from King Thorin Durinson himself, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, his Majesty of the Lonely Mountain. This decree legally requests a contest with Steven Rogers and Thor Odinson in three days' time in the Front Gates of Erebor of stone-splitting. In teams of two, with my Majesty and King and Thor Odinson acting as seconds, both Steven Rogers and Dwalin Fundinson shall split boulders of rock with the permitted tools within one hour. The team that breaks apart the most rocks wins the challenge."
"I respectfully decline, Mister Dwalin," Steven answered, but to his slight surprise, Dwalin's smile just got even smugger.
"It's a Royal Decree, signed and issued by Thorin Durinson himself, dear Captain," Dwalin pointed out, "I am quite sure that a loyal solder such as yourself can realize that a decree from the King himself cannot be refused. You and Thor Odinson are staying within Erebor, under the King's hospitality. To refuse such a request from the one Dwarf who is gracious and kind enough to open his home for you both to reside within is a grave insult."
"Thorin Oakenshield is not my King, Mister Dwalin," Steven stated matter-of-factly, "He has no jurisdiction nor right to hold me under his order when neither of us have sworn fealty. I am his guest, not his solder. I respectfully decline your request, even if it be a decree from your ruler and sovereign, though we apologize in advance for any offense we may cause, for it is nether of our intentions. Good day."
With that, Steven turned to leave, which brought forth a round of furious protest from the other Dwarves escorting Dwalin.
"We can throw both of you ponces in the dungeons for that insult to our King!" snarled Palli the Dwarf.
Thor raised an eyebrow as he hefted Mjolnir in his hands.
Instantly, the skies began to darken, storm clouds magically appearing in a blink of an eye, and there was a distant rumble of thunder from above.
Quickly, the Dwarves backed off from the unspoken threat, retreating ever so slightly away from the two Avengers. Sensing danger but still stubborn, a few of the Ereborian Guards continued to hurl threats and slurs at Thor and Steve.
"Pompous browbeaters!"
"Impertinent malt-worms!"
"Clay-brained pigs!"
"You both are nothing more than cowardly measles not even fit for our ravens to land their droppings on you!"
"If you both leave, we shall spread the word far and wide throughout all the seven Dwarven Kingdoms of how you both are weaklings and oathbreakers! You'll never be able to show your faces here again without our kind viewing you as wishy-washy deserters, you pillocks!" another Dwarf threatened.
Thor scowled a bit, but Steven gracefully seemed impassive as he looked over his shoulder and allowed one corner of his mouth to turn upwards as a smirk.
"Ori doesn't," Steve said, and with that, he continued to saunter off.
Dwalin's face flushed to match with his bloodshot eyes, swelling his chest like a frog as his face turned a sickening and dangerous shade of purple.
That did it.
Dwalin then spat with derision, bellowing, "It figures you'd be a coward, Steven Rogers! THAT MUST BE WHY YOUR PRECIOUS BUCKY GOT DISGUSTED AND LEFT YOU!"
Steve stiffened, halting in mid-stride.
Time seemed to stop as all the humans watching this with baited breath went still, motionless and deathly silent.
Thor immediately took offense as he glared at Dwalin and ambled forward dangerously, roaring, "You dare?! You dare mock - !"
Steve's hand immediately latched on Thor's shoulder and stopped his advance. Thor was about to protest when he blinked, seeing the look on Steve's face. Indeed, everyone else in the crowd along with Thor felt their voices die in their throats with apprehension as Steve then finally turned around.
Dwalin couldn't say that Steve wasn't hostile. Though his back was straight as a rod and he stood at full attention, Captain America wasn't frowning or even turning red. His face was actually neutral, stony, a perfect poker-expression devoid of the emotion and anger surging inside him.
However, what stunned Dwalin were Steve Rogers' eyes. No longer were they fatigued and lifeless, but blazing, cold as ice, and shining dangerously as they honed in on the Captain of the Ereborian Guard like a laser beam. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, with the crowd of Dwarves and Men hushed for the expected explosion and brawl, Steve then spoke, his voice pure snow with sharp edges of steel.
"Very well, Dwalin, Son of Fundin. I, Captain Steve Rogers, accept your challenge."
Looking back on it, Dwalin wondered if perhaps he crossed a line with that last insult…
"So what happened then, Elder Ori?" asked a Dwarfling as the rest of the captive audience of young children leaned forward eagerly. The old storyteller continued after a sip of his tea.
"I remember that day quite well. It was sunny but perfectly cool and moderate in temperature. It was a perfect day to be outside, and rumors spread like wildfire when everyone in Mirkwood, Erebor, and Dale learned of the imminent contest, so on the day and hour of the event, there was a massive throng of civilians and spectators who wished to view how this would end, all gathered at the Front Gates of the Lonely Mountain…"
It was like a festival, with vendors selling food and their wares, cheering and excited chatter all around as people mingled and snacked and drank ale, enjoyed each other's company, and anticipated with great interest on pins and needles for the main event. Thankfully, the rains for yesterday had ceased, and overhead was a sunny day with white clouds and the ground, though soft and muddy in some places, was still quite firm enough to avoid messes.
Yet the pressing mob formed a polite and neat circle around the Front Gates of Erebor, both of which has two giant and massive piles of stone and various types of rock ranging from pale marble to gray shale to tanned tuff and dark basalt. And at the base of each hill of sarsen mound were various pickaxes, sledgehammers, wedges, and chisels of superb Dwarven craft.
"There are so many people…" Bard murmured to King Thranduil with some concern as he looked on the massive assembly of Elves, Dwarves, and Menfolk, "This could be a large security risk for our peoples' safeties and well-beings. The Orcs and the servants of Morgoth could use this as an advantage for attack."
Thranduil couldn't help but be a little impressed at Bard's concern and intuition as he intoned, "There is no need for alarm. Mirthrandir and Radagast the Brown as well as the Lady Galadriel have organized an impressive battalion of footsolders from Rivendell. Elrond along with his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, are hidden in the cliffs all around, and I myself have legionnaires concealed amongst the crowds. And Beorn is already in his shifted form. If there is any treachery that can escape their notice or the notices of two wizards and the Lady of Lothlórien, then we deserve to be taken by surprise."
Relieved, Bard smiled and nodded before he pondered again over at what the Mirkwood ruler just said.
"Wait. Lady Galadriel of the Elves? Why is she concerned with today's events? I mean no offense to her Highness, but we at Dale are a simple folk with nothing truly extraordinary in our name."
Thranduil couldn't help but smile.
"She wishes to spy upon the contest with Captain America and Thor Odinson."
"Of course…" groaned Bard as he rolled his eyes.
The Dale monarch just hoped that today's events wouldn't give him a bigger headache.
Meanwhile, Glóin was busy taking bets from various people in the crowds, and all of them were male Dwarves, Men, and Elves, betting on the most desired outcome.
"Fifty gold coins on King Thorin and Dwalin Fundinson winning!"
"I place ten on the Dwarves beating those fair-haired dandies!"
"Five on the King and his Guard Captain finally snapping in to the temptation and executing the Captain and that damned Thor Odinson during the contest!"
"Stabbing through the heart or beheading?"
"Let us wager on both! Either way, we'll be satisfied with the option!"
"I personally hope that Masters Steven and Thor cry like wee babes once they lose!"
"I personally would love to see tears and whining from those milquetoasts, I daresay!"
"This is from our entire group," one male Mirkwood Guard ambled up as he placed a heavy bag in Glóin's hand, "Two thousand coins of silver and copper. We shall bet in favor of Thorin Oakenshield and Dwalin Fundinson."
"Wait…" blinked Glóin, "Since when do you Tree-Shaggers favor a Dwarf?"
"Let us just say that we want to see Steven Rogers and Thor Odinson win even less," grumbled another male Elf grouchily as he crossed his arms over his chest, which earned him a hearty and welcoming pat on the back from Glóin.
"Ah, you Tree-Shaggers are all right!" cheered the red-haired banker, only to earn a grimace from the Mirkwood Elf.
"Please stop touching me."
Nori then came up to Glóin as he piped up, "Put me down for - !"
"YOU'RE STILL BANNED!" roared all the neighboring Dwarves, Elves, and Men in unison at the Spymaster as they pointed and hollered.
Nori's face soured, but admirably, he sauntered off crankily, griping and sulking all throughout.
As Prince Kíli stood by at the edge of the massive throng placing orders, he then called out to Fíli, protesting, "Oi! Why aren't you participating in the pools, dear brother?"
Fíli raised an eyebrow as he replied smoothly, "I feel it is simply in bad taste to eagerly wager and long for the loss of two brave warriors who in no way deserve any of our ilk and boorish insults after all that they have done to protect our Lonely Mountain and Dale."
Kíli gave Fíli a long look before he smirked knowingly.
"Princess Sigrid threatened to cut you off if you participated in the betting pool, did she not?"
"Believe it or not, just because I am a male does not mean I have to be automatically jealous and offended by Master Steven and Master Thor's presences," Fíli retorted, although Kíli was quick to notice that his brother was a bit too hasty in answering and the slight blush in his cheeks.
"Never thought I would live to see the Heir of Erebor scared of the Princess of Dale…" teased Kíli as he roughly yet playfully looped an arm over the blond Dwarf's shoulder. Fíli frowned at Kíli.
"Captain America and Thor Odinson are both really fine warriors and noble friends if you stopped to take your head out of the dirt and actually got a chance to get to know them," the blond Prince pointed out, but Kíli continued to good-naturedly rib his sibling.
"Well, you can go ahead and spend your time with those infuriating poseurs, but I shall be with the real, masculine warriors over there who would rather belch and dance in taverns than read stories over tea and scones. As well as relish watching those two upstarts get exactly what's coming to them."
"Are you not afraid of what Lady Tauriel shall do to you when she finds out that you bet against Captain America and Thor? Especially since she is an avid member of the 'We Love Thor Odinson' and 'We Love Steven Rogers' societies?"
"Please," scoffed Kíli with a bawdy grin as he spoke in Khuzdul, "Like I would be stupid enough to hand over my bet in public. I did it last night via one of the guards passing my wager to Glóin himself at his apartments. There is no possible way my One will ever find out."
"Unless someone tells her…" Fíli grinned wickedly.
Kíli paled in horror at Fíli's subtle threat.
"Damn it."
At the same time, Dori the Dwarf ambled over leisurely towards Glóin.
"I place a bet for both myself and Ori," Dori said, tossing Glóin two large sacks of money, "A hundred gold coins each for the favor of Captain America and Thor Odinson winning."
Though Dori was perfectly polite and easy-going, his statement did not suit well for Glóin and the other Dwarves. Immediately, they glared at Dori as if he committed the most grievous heresy, as if he said he would renounce Thorin Oakenshield and declare Thraunduil as his true Lord and King. Dori's back went a little straighter, his neck posturing a bit higher, as he coolly met his kin's offended scowls.
"Is there a problem, Master Glóin?" Dori asked with fake neutrality.
"I suppose it is safe to say that like your questionable Spymaster brother, yours and Ori's loyalties are just as frivolous," Glóin said with disdain. Nori, upon hearing this, frowned.
Civilly, Dori just smiled before he took out a third coin purse and tossed it at Glóin.
"I suppose that is merely your opinion, Master Dwarf. Oh, by the way, this is from wee Gimli. He also bets ten coins in favor of Steven and Thor," Dori said with a touch of self-righteousness.
"Sorry, Adad!" Gimli yelled out upon the look of fury scandal on his father's face as Glóin pointed a quivering finger at his son.
"You bring shame on the family, boy!" Glóin roared, wondering if he could be excused for walloping his son and spanking his Dwarfling soundly right in public. Thankfully, Glóin's wife interjected.
"Glóin, Darling?" Täli asked, her voice mild but with hidden iron, "Do we need to have another talk?"
"No, Mudùmel…" Glóin backtracked ingratiatingly, simpering and making an effort to look repentant. Nori couldn't help but smirk and preen.
"My, my, my, we all now certainly know who runs the family of Farin and Gróin, don't we?" Nori chuckled.
"I'll get you after this contest, blackguard…" grumbled Glóin under his breath murderously in Khuzdul.
Suddenly, there was a vigorous cheer from the crowd as Thor Odinson, Steven Rogers, Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins, and Dwalin Fundinson marched out into the open through the Front Gates, the five exiting out of the Lonely Mountain. Steve was polite, smiling as he nodded his head at various people chanting his name in the audience, although Thor could sense he wasn't entirely comfortable doing this entire match right in public in front of everyone. Dwalin, however, was simply elated as he roared and bombastically pumped his fist in the air, invoking many of the males in the audience to cheer and vocalize Thorin and Dwalin's name in a frenzy of Khuzdul, music to his ears.
All right, as low as it was to force Steven and Thor into this whole charade, the Dwarf Captain was going to absolutely relish humiliating that damned fop.
As Thorin and Bilbo both waved their hands to the crowd of roaring and chanting male Humans, Dwarves, and Elves, Thor Odinson then did something that caused all the females in the crowd to go absolutely wild.
Thor then immediately ripped off the breastplate section of his armor and tossed it aside, revealing his tanned skin, muscled chest, and to add insult to Thorin's injury, he began flexing his biceps and arms, pectorials bouncing like rubber, winking naughtily at Bilbo Baggins.
Bilbo's eyes went wide as he stammered incomprehensibly, his heart pounding, his face flushed.
Thorin felt his jaw unhinge in outrage, fingers twitching for the sledgehammer next to the rock-pile.
The high octaves of feminine and girlish shouting and hails of liveliness easily overpowered the applauding of their male companions by double.
"Thor! What are you doing?!" Steve shouted, wide-eyed and stupefied, so humiliated as he went pale.
Thor blinked in confusion as he innocently asked, "I am simply following the Dwarven tournament protocols."
"Protocols?!What protocols?! There are no protocols about competing in Erebor, you unintelligent, perverted ox!" roared Thorin, red-faced and looking like he was about to have an aneurysm at the humiliating sight. The blond Asgardian naïvely looked at the Dwarf King as he continued to sway his hips from side to side like an erotic dancer.
"Master Nori said that it is tradition for the challengers of a contest between Dwarves to go shirtless and bare-chested and entertain the crowd of spectators as part of an induction ceremony," Thor said before he grinned cheekily with a flamboyant and charming twinkle in his eyes and started gyrating his pelvis, arms up and hands locked behind his head.
The females screamed even louder, and one female Elf started hyperventilating.
"NORI!" bellowed Thorin in rage as he and Dwalin looked around wildly before spotting said Spymaster eagerly accepting his bribe money from a good crowd of women, receiving so many small pouches of coin that the Dwarf had trouble trying to bundle all of them together in his arms, in danger of his bounties spilling out to the floor.
Nori just impishly grinned, his voice elated, "Whatever is wrong, your Majesty? Nothing odd or disrespectful with giving the female folk of our cities what they want! And being paid for it! It is an honest day's work, Thorin!"
"You wouldn't know 'honest' if it came out from an Orc's rear and slapped itself right in your fat mouth!" snarled Dwalin, certainly vehement and outraged at how Ori couldn't help but stare, open-mouthed at the sight of Thor jerking his hip forwards and back in a rather naughty manner. Bard, horrorstruck and taken aback, quickly placed his hands over Tilda's eyes, not wanting his youngest child to be scarred for life.
"Da! I cannot see!" protested Tilda as she tried to writhe out of her father's hands. Bard just clamped on even more tightly.
"That is the point!" Bard hissed as he helplessly (and furiously) watched Sigrid his eldest cheer on the striptease.
"TAKE IT OFF!" screamed Sigrid with ecstatic ardor, and instantly, every female Dwarf, Elf, and Woman repeated her words rather urgently.
"TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF!"
Thor eagerly listened to the demand of his fans as he then took a nearby bucket of collected rainwater and overturned it over his head, soaking his body completely with water before continuing to flex and dance seductively, his muscles shining with drops of water and glistening under the sun. While Thorin and Dwalin were absolutely twitching with utter indignation, Steven was covering his face with one hand in complete embarrassment.
"Thor, you're embarrassing yourself…" groaned Captain America, rubbing the bridge of his nose in commiseration.
Thor then got a mischievous glint in his eyes as he ambled up towards his close friend.
"Correction: I am embarrassing the both of us…" Thor chuckled deeply before he then reached out and grabbed the back of Steven's white T-shirt. With a hard jerk, Thor completely ripped off Steven's shirt off his body, as easily as one could cleave apart a dry autumn leaf, and to his complete surprise, Steve was now bare-chested too and was currently revealing his muscular torso to the entire crowd.
Despite the jeers of disdain and heckling boos and hissings from the Men, the Women went completely mad as quite a few of them began to swoon. Steve blushed so hard, his face as red as a strawberry, as he vainly tried to cross his arms over his torso in a futile effort of modesty.
"Thor! That was my favorite shirt!" protested Steve, now completely mortified. Thor laughed jovially, not the least bit troubled as the threaded the torn fabric in between his legs and started rubbing it against his crotch in a sawing motion, hogging the spotlight shamelessly.
"I shall buy you a thousand new shirts, Brother Steven!" Thor yelled.
Dwalin, now frantically desperate at seeing Ori ogle Steven's bare chest and muscular form with eyes as wide as dinner plates and a lovesick, drooling expression, hurriedly barked at his King as he stripped off this armor and tunic.
"Take off your shirt!" Dwalin snapped as he agitatedly hoisted his clothing over his head. Thorin was flummoxed, to say the least.
"NOT YOU TOO!" Thorin barked with indignation, but then Dwalin wordlessly pointing at Thor who was trying to seductively show up to Bilbo by flexing his back, muscles popping out impressively. Bilbo couldn't help but nod, dumbfounded. He shouldn't be staring, should be acting like a respectable Hobbit, should gently scold Thor and lecture him to quit being such a willing nudist…
Oh, who was he kidding?
"That is…quite…remarkable, Master Thor," was all the dazed Bilbo could utter, and Thor's cheeky smile grew even more provocative and slinky.
"I believe the saying goes, 'Look all you want, touch all you want', Brother Bilbo…" Thor leered.
Bilbo was now beet red, not sure if he was light-headed because of the brazen offer or because of the temptation.
Thorin quickly snapped back to attention and changed his mind quite rapidly as he discarded his tunic and chain mail armor within the span of several seconds. And within view of everyone gathered around, both of the Dwarves were now shirtless and showing their stocky builds, hairy and squat, yet powerfully formed from years of fighting, warfare, and working at the forge. It was a bit comical to see both Dwalin and Thorin, two of the most stubbornly austere and humorless beings of Erebor, reduced to flexing and posing like insecure idiots and quite self-consciously.
Mercifully, Bilbo and Ori were now ogling quite audaciously at their lovers. Thor Odinson frowned, not liking the competition for Bilbo's attention. Dori, upon seeing the look of pure lust on Ori's face, was scandalized.
"You would prefer that shit-faced bastard over Steven Rogers? Are you touched in head or have you been struck ill from spending so much time cooped up in the library with dusty scrolls and no air?" Dori scolded.
The crowd of females, however, immediately did an about-face.
"PUT IT BACK ON! PUT IT BACK ON! PUT IT BACK ON!"
King Thranduil drawled, "Your Majesty, and I mean this with every offense intended: could you simply do all of us a favor to our collective eyesight and sanity and put your shirt back on?"
Dáin piped up rather rudely from the background amid the groans.
"Thorin, laddie, you are very fortunate that Master Baggins finds you alluring, though for the life of me, I haven't the faintest and sanest explanation why," Dáin quipped.
Dís added in with a smile, "It is a bit similar to trying to impress us with a pebble after showing us a diamond."
There were times Thorin Oakenshield could actually murder his kin.
He really could.
Thankfully, with one of Gandalf's fireworks exploding high in the air, the cluster of people shushed considerably enough for the moderators of the competition to take control and begin.
Lord Dáin then ambled up towards Thorin, Dwalin, Steven, and Thor, bellowing loudly in his strong voice for everyone around to hear as they hushed, "Listen well, ALL of ye! This shall be a contest of strength and will, as decreed by our Majesty of Erebor, King Thorin himself! In two teams of two, with King Thorin and Master Odinson as seconds, Masters Dwalin Fundinson and Steven Rogers are to utilize whatever tools at hand to split their respective piles of boulders. The goal is to render apart as many as you can in one hour's time."
"You are to only use the tools provided here or your own strength, so splitting the rocks with your fists, heads, and other feats of your own muscle and vigor shall be allowed. There is to be no use of any other tools and certainly no magic! That means that the shield of Captain America and the Hammer of Mahal are not allowed at the match. If we even see a flicker of thunder and lightning, then both Thor Odinson and Steven Rogers shall be disqualified."
Steve and Thor both decided to not comment on how that last verbal jab was unfairly hurled at them as they both nodded at Dáin. The red-haired Dwarf Lord continued.
"The methodology of the race is that each person per team must take a single stone and split it cleanly in half, one rock at a time, and then they must neatly make a separate pile with the riven pieces. You only need to split each stone once, and only once. Any technique or process you devise with your partner as an act of teamwork to split stones is permissible as long as you both act accordingly to the rules by yourselves without any external aid."
"In one hour, Lord Balin of Erebor, King Thranduil of Mirkwood, King Bard of Dale, and Radagast the Brown Wizard shall tally up the count of split rocks for each team. The duo with the greater number of split rocks shall win the challenge. And aside from bragging rights and rubbing it in the other team's faces, the champions of the race shall win…"
Radagast then popped up with a giant earthenware platter filled with a luscious and sweet-smelling stack of familiar biscuits, still warm from being taken out of the ovens that morning.
Radagast announced with a smile, "The winners of the contest shall earn a platter of freshly-baked peanut-butter cookies, a rare and succulent treat of utmost deliciousness, provided by the Teahouse of Erebor of Master Dori, Son of Ri!"
There was a nonplussed silence.
The look on Dáin's face was deadpanned and unenthusiastic as he hollowly griped, "…that's it?"
From the looks of many of the male Dwarves, Elves, and Men in the crowd, they clearly agreed with Dáin's sentiment.
Thorin then roared out to the crowd, taking everyone by surprise.
"Bah! A paltry prize! I, King Thorin, shall add an additional accolade! Whomever shall triumph in the Burdens of Stone shall receive a loving kiss from the Consort of Erebor, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire!"
The crowd gasped and murmured to each other in confusion.
Dís raised an eyebrow. She knew exactly how this would end…
The Queen of the Blue Mountains then turned to Glóin and whispered conspiratorially, "Master Glóin, if it is not too late, I would like to place a wager on the outcome…"
Bilbo's eyes went wide.
He certainly did not agree to this beforehand.
"Thorin…" Bilbo hissed urgently, but Thorin's declaration made Thor absolutely jubilant and rapturous as he practically danced and jumped up and down with joy like a wild child before grasping Steve by the shoulders and shaking his teammate.
"Brother Steven! WE MUST NOT LOSE!" Thor roared with glee, eyes shining with merriment and desire.
"Thor, will you just calm down? You're embarrassing yourself…again," Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he extracted himself from the Asgardian's grip, but Thor continued to extol the acclaimed prize.
"How can you be so unmoved at the thought of a kiss from the caressing lips of a tender and gentle warrior such as Brother Bilbo?!" Thor exclaimed melodramatically, "'Tis the reward to the finest warrior I can ever behold! A prize that I shall gladly endure the heat of a thousand suns to attain!"
Thorin secretly smirked as Bilbo blushed at Thor's euphoria.
Oh, Thorin was going to immensely enjoy rubbing it in Thor Odinson's face when he and Dwalin won this contest…
Starting with kissing the life of Bilbo and making him moan and whimper in pleasure right in Thor's plain sight…
And reminding Thor who exactly belonged first and foremost in his Hobbit's heart…
Amid the snickering and derisive mockery from most of the males in the audience, Prince Bain turned to Sigrid who was still watching Thor and Captain America was shining eyes of admiration.
"Remind me again why the female folk of our cities feel they have a chance with Master Thor and Master Steven's affections?" Bain asked his eldest sister.
"Do shut up, and let me dream," Sigrid snapped as she smacked Bain away rudely without moving her head.
Dáin then turned to all four of the contestants and asked, "Do any of you upstarts have any objections to the rules?"
Steven and Dwalin's response was unanimous and in union.
"No."
The red-haired Dwarf Lord smiled.
"Good, laddies. Because I'd hate to tell you pissants exactly what sort of problems we'd be having if you did. To your stations!"
Steve, deciding to try to show some sportsmanship, held out his hand to Dwalin before they parted ways, thinking perhaps that for Ori's sake, he could try to mend the rift.
"May the best person win," the blond Avenger offered, only for Dwalin to sneer at the offer (not surprisingly).
"And it certainly shall not be you, you foppy bastard," the Dwarf Captain spat.
Steven narrowed his eyes, his mouth set, but he gracefully did not respond in kind as he walked away to his rock pile where Thor was patiently waiting.
"Good luck, Dwalin! Good luck, Steven!" Ori called out, not willing to take any sides. While Steven smiled, the jealous and disapproving scowl Dwalin sent Ori send a shiver of unease down the scribe's back.
"Ready!" Dáin declared, green flag raised in the air.
Dwalin and Thorin, muscles tensed and set, braced themselves.
"Set!"
Dwalin placed his hands on the nearest rock (nearly half the size of himself) as Thorin gripped his pickaxe tightly.
Dáin brought the flag down with a flourish as he hollered in Khuzdul.
"BARUK KHAZÂD!"
There was a sudden roar of approval and competitive spirit from the assembly as Dwalin lugged the rock onto the platform and held the stone in place, only for Thorin to swing his pickaxe and quickly split into two with one stroke.
Wham!
Dwalin neatly tossed aside both halves before picking up another hunk of shale from the pile and holding it in place with both hands before Thorin let loose another swing, expertly positioning his aim in between Dwalin's hands and cracking the rock right down the middle once again.
Wham!
Dwalin then tossed that rock aside and got another from the pile.
Wham!
And another.
Wham!
Both the Dwarf King and the Captain of the Guards were working wonderfully in tandem, such collaboration due to years of solidarity and trust the two have gained from years on the battlefield and over the years of exile. And in their milieu, both Thorin and Dwalin felt exhilarated, triumphant, and so, so supercilious.
"I could almost feel sorry for those idiots…" chuckled Dwalin darkly in Khuzdul as Thorin split the seventh rock.
"Challenging us in a Burden of Stone? We're Dwarves, born and weaned under the very mountains by Mahal himself. The day any other race knows rock and craftmanship better than the children of the Maker will be the day Arda needs to be remade. Those fops have absolutely…no…chance…"
The words in Thorin's throat died with a squeak as Thorin and Dwalin glanced nearby at Thor and Steven's progress, only to be greeted by a surprising and terrifying revelation that was enough to make their faces drain of color and their limbs to freeze in cold astonishment to the outraged protests from the males of the audience.
Thor and Steve were both already working on splitting their fifteenth boulders.
And they were ripping the chucks of rocks apart by hand.
By hand.
As easily as one could tear through a piece of parchment or paper.
With barely even grunting, both Thor and Captain America worked in tandem, taking lumps of shale and granite in both hands before splitting them apart, their muscles flexing and bulging beautifully for the entire audience to gaze upon as their strength tore the boulders neatly in halves before discarding them into the growing pile on the side.
The growing pile that was increasing by the second and already significantly greater than Thorin and Dwalin's pile.
"Look at those muscles and how they move and flex…" Bea the Dale barmaid sighed as she stared at Steven's back and heaving chest.
"These Avengers are both so strong…" a Dwarrowdam murmured, fanning herself.
"THAT'S CHEATING!" roared Dwalin, pointing a furious finger at the two Avengers.
"Actually, it is not," Thranduil silkily intoned with a Cheshire smile that did little to hide his smugness as Thor and Steven continued on, "Lord Dáin has declared that both Steven and Thor Odinson could not use the magical hammer or their shield for this contest and that they must both split the rocks of their own accord without aid or magical assistance. Other than that, you have made no mention of what other limitation the two must follow, and you certainly did not declare that neither of them can use their innate strength of their bodies."
"Aye, the Tree-Shagger's right, Cousin," Dáin sighed, nodding his head. As much as he hated to agree with an Elf of all people…
"They are following the rules we have set down, and as the contest has already started, it would be quite unfair sportsmanship to change them now," Balin said with a wince, feeling a headache coming on. He should have just pretended to be sick and stay in his chambers today…
"Brother, you never even considered the realization that perhaps Thor and Steven are stronger than a normal Man?" Dís asked in disbelief, one eyebrow raised.
"But…but we just figured it was due to the hammer and shield that gave them their vigor!" protested Dwalin, "I mean, Bilbo wields the Hammer of Mahal, and he is not particularly - "
"Finish that sentence, Master Dwalin, and there will be no maple pumpkin tarts for you for a year," Bilbo cut in coldly.
"Shut up and keep smashing!" roared Thorin frantically, swinging his pickaxe, "I am NOT letting that jackass of a peacock win!"
There was a contemplative silence before one Fauntling piped up from the back of the room.
"Thorin and Dwalin lost, didn't they?" he asked.
"By a literal rockslide…" confirmed Ori with a nod.
"Were they angry?" asked another Hobbit girl.
"Very."
"As angry as the time when King Thorin discovered that the only way to calm down the Hulk was by having the Hulk cuddle Bilbo?" one Dwarfling asked.
"Angrier than that, actually," sighed Ori, wincing at the memory.
"As angry as the time when Master Star-Lord asked if he and Master Bilbo would be interested in a threesome?" one Dale teenager asked.
"Angrier than that."
"As angry as the time when Thorin Oakenshield and King Bard caught Prince Fíli and Princess Sigrid naked and being intimate on the Ereborian throne itself?"
"Angrier than that," Ori said, although he winced again at the reminiscence of Bilbo and the rest of the Company tackling both Bard and Thorin to the ground before Bard could commit homicide. And even then, it took several years before Bard could look at Fíli without appearing as if he wanted to bash the Dwarf's teeth in.
"As angry as the time when Doctor Strange cast the body swap spell on him and King Thranduil?" one female Elf girl asked.
Elder Ori was about to answer before he paused, thinking it over.
"…actually, no. That time, he was angrier," the old storyteller admitted. Although to be fair, Bilbo commented in the past that Mount Doom erupting would have been calmer in comparison to the livid fury both Thorin and Thraunduil displayed after Doctor Strange's cruel joke that eventful day.
"That reminds me: did King Thranduil ever remove the bounty off Doctor Strange's head?" another Dale boy asked his Elvish friends.
His Mirkwood comrades answered in unison.
"No."
"It is official!" announced King Bard loudly for the audience to hear, with Ori, being the Royal Scribe, taking note and logging the number in his journal for historical reference in the Library, "The number of stones and boulders split by King Thorin Durinson and Dwalin Fundinson is nine hundred and twenty nine for this contest!"
Ori dutifully wrote it down with his head lowered, not sure if he could be trusted to look up and not wince at Thorin's enraged face.
"What is the tally of the rocks split by Thor Odinson and Steven Rogers?" Dáin asked.
"Er…we are still counting…" Balin admitted sheepishly, although everyone witnessing this could easily discern that Steven and Thor's rock pile was much, much greater than Thorin and Dwalin's.
By over three fold.
Trembling, Dwalin looked like he was just about to commit mass murder starting with everyone gathered around for the contest as he growled, "Must you carry on this embarrassing charade?"
Thranduil grinned so smugly at their complete humiliation that the Dwarf Captain was tempted to punch him directly in the face.
The Elf King of Mirkwood drawled, "Why, of course, Master Dwarf! After all, we must simply be precise and thorough for written posterity! And we all know that you Dwarves like everything to be exact and explicit and completely absolute so there can be no qualms or disgruntlement in the future."
Meanwhile, a rather sour-faced Glóin was angrily distributing the collected money in the pool and biting back the curse words he was just eager to scream to the heavens. Evenly split, the entire kitty of coin was packed into sizeable leather pouches and bequeathed to Ori, Dori, his own son Gimli (who was going to be grounded post-haste), Prince Bain of Dale, and (surprisingly) Dís.
Thorin was apoplectic as he saw Dís receive her share of the winnings.
"You bet against your own brother?!" he squawked. Dís gave him a baleful and exasperated look.
"Thorin, I have grown watching you act like an oblivious and stubborn idiot since we were children. Of course I could have seen this coming," the Dwarf Queen replied, not the least bit sorry.
Thorin wasn't sure if he could resist the urge to start bawling right then and there…
Finally, after over twenty minutes, Radagast announced the final tally once Balin, Thranduil, and Bard double-checked their figures.
"The number of rocks split by Steven Rogers and Thor Odinson is two thousand, nine hundred, and thirty-two! Therefore, by unanimous agreement by all the judges and moderators, we hereby announce Master Steven Rogers and Thor Odinson as the winners of the contest!" the Brown Istari publicized.
All the females (along with a few such as Bilbo, Gandalf, Bain, Gimli, and Fíli) cheered and applauded their congratulations, their heralds of commendation and worship loud enough to be heard across the Misty Mountains.
In contrast, the majority of the male Dwarves, Elves, and Men just sulked and griped, dark expressions of resentment and mutterings as their resolutely refused to applaud.
Dwalin and Thorin were both completely disgraced, their fists so tight that their fingernails drew blood in the palms of their hands, teeth grinding against each other as their glowered darkly with flushed and sweaty faces of wrath.
It was a safe bet that they were not taking this loss well.
Steven did his best to try to minimize the embarrassment by taking the platter of cookies (although Thor immediately stuffed six of them in his mouth at once, looking like a hoarding hamster) and offering them out to Thorin and Dwalin, proclaiming stridently.
"Of course, to congratulate a job well done on everyone's efforts, the prize of the peanut-butter biscuits shall be shared between both teams as a symbol of there being no hard feelings and of friendship."
Dwalin looked like he wanted to spit in Steven's face, but he managed to hiss out through gritted teeth, "…thank you…Master Rogers."
Thorin, however, dreadfully realized one minor detail as the King's face melted into panic and alarm. He had forgotten about his earlier addendum to the winning trophy…
Indeed, quite a few of Thorin's Company seemed to be on the same track of thought as well as they fidgeted apprehensively.
Thankfully, Thor then held out a hand, as if he read Thorin's mind.
"Nay," Thor said, shaking his head and holding out a hand, "Peace, King Thorin of Oak's Shield. I shall not kiss a valiant soul such as Brother Bilbo without his consent. There is no honor in forcing your affections on one of such pure heart chosen by Mjolnir. If Brother Bilbo does not feel comfortable with giving me a kiss, I shall graciously dissolve the promised prize and leave him be with no dishonor to his name."
Thorin blinked, although he felt his shoulders sag with relief.
Balin rolled his eyes and whispered under his breath, "Thank Mahal…"
Bilbo smiled at Thor's benevolent offer as he whispered, "Thank you. You are far too sympathetic and considerate, Thor Odinson. Your parents have raised you well."
The blond Asgardian beamed like a puppy as Steven exhaled, glad that there would be no blowup.
Then Thor's voice rang out a suggestion.
"If it be graceful and tame enough, Brother Bilbo, I would most cherish a hug from you instead, if it be worthy of your judgment," the blond Asgardian suggested.
Bilbo smiled. A hug sounded innocent enough, and Thorin wouldn't get that outraged over it.
"Certainly, Prince Thor," Bilbo said as he beamed and held out his arms wide.
With a sudden movement that took everyone by surprise, Bilbo found himself enveloped into Thor's brawny and muscular arms and picked up off the ground as if he was as light as a feather. Wide-eyed with shock, Bilbo could only make a small squeak as Thor closed his eyes and gently squeezed Bilbo against his bare, sweaty, and rock-hard chest, one large hand stroking Bilbo's back as Thor purred like a cat and nuzzled his bearded face against the top of Bilbo's head. Bilbo wasn't sure how to feel about the giant, hulking figure nuzzling and caressing him as he was firmly pressed in between Thor's pectorals. Bilbo couldn't say the hug was unpleasant, although he didn't enjoy his face being rubbed against Thor's sweaty chest nor did he entirely like the close-up view of Thor's pointy nipple.
And was Thor's skin always this smooth and soft? And smelled like ale and rowan wood?
"Lucky Hobbit…" grumbled Tauriel as many of her friends were just as envious.
In the background, Thorin's right eye twitched madly along with his clenched fingers as the Dwarf King was literally shaking, froth starting to gather at one corner of his clenched teeth, hissing for breath all the meanwhile. His face went into a sick and unhealthy color as he temporarily lost all hearing, his skull buzzing with the sound of blood bubbling in his ears and veins, scarcely able to see straight.
Balin rubbed the bridge of his nose as those near Thorin cautiously took several steps backward, gulping.
"Da?" Tilda was heard asking softly, "Is Master Thorin turning red or blue?"
"I daresay he's turning purple, actually," Bain commented.
"Tilda, one of my Rhosgobel Rabbits would like you to scratch its head," Radagast segued in smoothly, instantly getting Tilda's attention as she squealed with joy as she petted the tame hare. King Bard turned to the Brown Wizard.
"Thank you…" Bard whispered.
"You still might want to cover your daughter's ears," warned Radagast with a smile.
After ten and long and agonizing (for Thorin) seconds and with a loving sniff of Bilbo's hair, Thor gently set the blushing Hobbit down to the ground, enjoying the look of scandalized embarrassment on the frazzled Bilbo's face.
"Oh my…" was all Bilbo could croak, not sure if was about to faint from all the blood rushing to his head. Thor chuckled deeply as he rose to a standing position only to look in the distance to see Thorin on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, barely holding it together and threatening to burst with uncontained wrath.
"Why King Thorin of Oak's Shield," Thor drawled with mock concern, "Whatever is the matter? Are thou mad, brother?"
"It's like adding oil to the cooking fire," one Dale girl groaned, wincing.
Surprisingly, one Dwarf wasn't entirely sympathetic as he declared, "As much as I have loyalty to Erebor and the royal family, I have to say that King Thorin brought that one on himself."
Ori couldn't help but smile as he stated, "That led to the Great Mud-Wrestling Fight between Thor Odinson, Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin, and Steven Rogers."
"Wait, why were Masters Dwalin and Steven Rogers involved?" blinked a Hobbit girl, cocking her head.
"The fight somehow escalated a bit…" Ori explained, rolling his eyes.
"Loggerheaded fop!" bellowed Thorin as he tried to head-butt Thor Odinson into his midsection, charging with his head lowered like a mad bull. Thor expertly stopped the Dwarf King in his tracks by comically catching his head in the span of his giant, left hand. It was sort of droll to watch the Dwarf King flail and struggle to close the distance between while being held in place by Thor at arm's length.
Bilbo just gingerly rubbed his temples where he was developing the strangest headache out of the blue…
"Now, really, King Thorin. Thou are truly being crass over a silly hug - " Thor criticized.
Thor then lost what he was trying to say as Thorin, as a cheap shot, grabbed a handful of mud from the ground and flung it directly into the Asgaridan's eyes. The blond Man credit out in surprise as he instinctively grabbed his face, letting go of his Dwarf antagonist.
"Showboating bastard!"
Steven, sensing trouble, tried to intervene.
"THOR! YOUR MAJESTY! Both of you stop this – oof!"
What Steven was going to say was immediately lost as Dwalin took advantage of the distraction and tackled Captain America from behind, completely winding Steve as he was sent crashing fact first into the dirt and mud.
"Hands off my King, you scuttling home-wrecker!" yelled Dwalin as he grabbed Steven's hair and repeatedly rammed the Man's face hard into the ground. Captain America then acrobatically flipped the heavy Dwarf off his back using his legs as leverage and both he and Dwalin were sent wrestling in filth, with Dwalin trying to get a punch in and cursing in Khuzdul.
Meanwhile, Thorin took advantage of the distracted Thor being temporarily blind as he grabbed Thor's left leg and yanked it forward with all of his strength, causing the muscle-bound Asgardian to fall backwards with a yelp as he lost his balance. Falling backwards, Thor crashed into the ground, splattering mud everywhere, and now in a vulnerable position, Thorin pounced eagerly.
"Cumberworld bedswerver!" Thorin snarled as he landed with his elbow jutting downwards, magnificently hammering Thor right in the sternum.
"Thorin Oakenshield, please desist!" Thor growled, now clearly angry, wincing a bit from the blow but nonetheless hardly affected.
"Spongy son of a venomous bitch!" howled the sable-haired Dwarf as he managed to swing both of his arms together into Thor's stomach and abs win a two handed punch.
"Thou shall not bring my mother into this!" snarled Thor, his face starting to flush.
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll – oh for the love of Mahal! I cannot even strangle you properly?!" Thorin squawked in frustration. Indeed, it was true. Thor's neck was so massive and thick that Thorin's hands could not even fit suitably around the Asgardian's throat. It was as if the Dwarf King was trying to vainly wrap his fingers all around a large tree trunk.
Thor Odinson smirked at the Erebor King.
"I suppose thou has fingers that are simply too short and stubby, unlike my magical fingers which Brother Bilbo - "
That was all Thor Odinson was able to voice before an incensed Thorin delivered a ferocious head-butt directly into Thor's face, jamming his forehead into Thor's nose and breaking it with a resulting spurt of blood.
"Dull-brained jackass!"
Having enough and trying his best to not cause permanent injury, Thor then expertly used a wrestling move to latch onto Thorin and wrap the Dwarf's head in a one-armed choke-hold. Thrashing and squirming madly, Thorin let loose a volley of curses in Khuzdul as he tried to wrench his head out of Thor's armpit, but the Asgardian firmly kept the Dwarf pinned to his side.
Panting, Thor tried again in a controlled voice as he stood up, "Now, King Thorin of Oak's Shield. Are you ready to discuss this in a calm – OW!"
Thor yelped as Thorin desperately sank his teeth into Thor's side, drawing blood as he bit down on the skin and muscle of the abdominals as hard as he could. In response, Thor lessened his grasp which allowed the dwarf to wriggle free before stomping hard on the back of Thor's knee, causing the Asgardian to pitch forward on all fours.
"Lily-livered, cock-teasing, ingratiating ponce!"
Thor was now beginning to lose his patience.
"I am warning – OW!" Thor yelped as Thorin's fist made contact with his nose and mouth, drawing blood.
"Bilbo Baggins is my Beloved! Do you hear me?! MINE!" Thorin yelled as he managed to jump up an impressive height before looping his arm around Thor's throat in a chokehold and pulled hard, causing the Asgardian to fall on his back, sending both of them into the mud, with Thorin crushing Thor's windpipe all the meanwhile.
"We should stop this…" Tauriel commented, staring hard with glazed eyes.
"We really should…" agreed Mafria, a small and pleasured smile on her lips.
"They might kill each other…" Bea pointed out.
"And we simply cannot let that happen…" Princess Sigrid stated.
Not that they made an effort to stop staring at the glorious fight of the four shirtless and muscled warriors wrestling in the dirt, mud and dirty water spread lusciously over their muscular forms.
Nope. Can't have that.
Fíli groaned as he stepped forward, "Bombur, Bofur, grab Uncle while - "
Sigrid's voice rang out harshly as she pointed to the blond Dwarf while still keeping her eyes fixated on the erotic scrap.
"Fíli Durinson, you know I care for you. But so help me: if you interrupt this arousing exchange of blows, I will shoot you with my father's longbow."
Fíli decided to wisely keep his mouth shut and backed off.
Bard sighed, rubbing his eyes as he demanded Balin and Bilbo (who were both next to him), "Aren't you going to act?! Do something!"
"I am. I'm having a drink. Would you like some?" Balin asked sardonically, one fuzzy eyebrow raised meaningfully as he opened a small metal flask of hard liquor he took out from a hidden pocket in his tunic.
Bard looked at Balin as if he was completely insane.
Steven managed to get the better of Dwalin by pinning the Dwarf's arms behind his back and sitting directly on Dwalin's back with Dwalin thrashing face-first in the mud.
"When you calm down and agree to stop this silliness, I will let you up, Mister Dwalin," Steven Rogers declared sternly.
A purple-faced Dwalin said a foul series of curses in Khuzdul that involved Steven doing a lewd act with a Warg, a Troll, and a crowd of Orcs using their spears for a particularly vulgar purpose.
Elder Ori then steeled himself for the next part of the chronicle, mentally preparing himself for the emotional turmoil and distressing memories that were about to unfold. The hoary Dwarf motioned for a refill of his tea from his son (who immediately complied).
"Finally, after a week after that disastrous contest, I managed to work enough nerve to ask Steven Rogers a question that was most dear and important to me at the time. Little did I know what that one innocent act would result in an inundation of bad decisions…"
"'The square root of 7 is - ' She broke off. She wasn't holding out, IT was getting at her, and she couldn't concentrate, not even on math, and soon she, too, would be absorbed in IT, she would be an IT."
"'Tesser, sir!' she heard Calvin's voice through the red darkness, 'Tesser!'"
"She felt her father grab her by the wrist, there was a terrible jerk that seemed to break every bone in her body, then the dark nothing of tessering. If tessering with Mrs Whatsit, Mrs Who, and Mrs Which had been a strange and fearful experience, it was nothing like tessering with her father. After all, Mrs Which was experienced at it, and Mr. Murry – how did her know anything about it at all? Meg felt that she was being torn apart by a whirlwind."
"She was lost in an agony of pain that finally dissolved into the darkness of complete unconsciousness."
With those somber words, Steve grimly smiled to himself as he closed the small book with a final soft clap and looked up to the wide-eyed audience of children and adults in the Dale marketplace.
"And we'll end there," Steven announced amid the groans and moans, "We'll continue the next chapter the following week, all right?"
"No!" whined Princess Tilda who was snugly sitting on Bifur's lap, with the grizzled Dwarf firmly and protectively holding her, "I wish to hear more!"
"Just one more hour, please, Captain America! We wish to find out what happens!" begged Gimli as he sat on the stone ground, side by side with Prince Bain and Bofur.
"As much as I agree with you, Gimli, it is getting close to curfew, and we do need to start Guard Duty back at Erebor soon," Prince Fíli pointed out, seated comfortably with Princess Sigrid snuggled in his lap. If anyone else noticed the apparent close friendship between the Dwarf and the human girl, no one commented aloud. Though a few such as Bilbo and Bifur cast the two with fond and knowing looks.
"Aye, Fíli is right," groaned Bofur as he got up and stretched the kinks in his back, "Best to get everyone safe in their homes before the sun completely sets. Orcs and Goblins may be about, and we all have to be on full alert. Come now, you little scamps! Your mothers and fathers are waiting for you back home."
As everyone left, saying good-byes and heading off towards their homes, Ori then quietly ambled up towards Steve when he was finally alone as he placed his belongings into his knapsack.
"…Steven?" the Dwarf peeped timidly.
"Yes, Ori?" Steven asked lightly.
Oh, how Ori hated how Steven's blue eyes were getting clearer, gentle and tranquil like a calm day at sea and making his stomach twist and turn agitatedly.
The Dwarf felt his resolve and courage fail once again as he fidgeted nervously in front of the Avenger, who was dressed in his white, sleeveless undershirt and brown slacks and shoes, standing at respectful attention. One second passed, then three, but the Dwarf scribe was unable to utter anything through his dry and clogged throat. Chuckling, Steve finally knelt down and placed himself within eye-level of the Dwarf scribe, one hand gently resting on Ori's shoulder.
"Hey, no pressure," Steve said softly, "When you're ready to tell me, you're ready. Don't force yourself to - "
"MayIdrawyousometime?"
This request came out so fast that even Steven with his sharp hearing barely could decipher it. But Ori, red-faced and completely humiliated, suddenly found an interest in his toes as he looked down at the ground.
By Mahal, he was so embarrassed.
What must Steven Rogers think of him?
Steve leaned back a bit, and for a moment, Ori was so fearful that he angered the Avenger, but then the blond Man's eyes twinkled under the torchlight, merry and mischievous to complement the ribald smirk dancing on his face.
"Do you really wish to draw me?" Steve asked, his voice deep and soft and a bit surprised (as if no one had ever asked such a question for him).
By now, Ori's face was redder than his hair, his ears so heated that Ori felt he could simply melt snow upon touch.
"…yes?" squeaked a scarlet-faced Ori, so mortified and vulnerable that he wanted to go run into the lower mines of the Lonely Mountain and toss himself into the nearest gorge.
This would be the part where Steven, good, kind, Steven, would gently let him down and make weak excuses or say he was not comfortable with the idea, just like Dwalin. No, Ori decided that wouldn't show disappointment, not when Steven was already being such a sweet friend…
"I would be honored," Captain America answered with sincerity.
Ori looked up in surprise so quickly, his neck made a sharp cricking noise, sending a small ache down his neck. He could scarcely believe what he had just heard.
"Really?" Ori asked breathlessly.
"Really," Steven said, nodding, looking so accepting and supportive that Ori could have kissed the Man.
"When?!"
"Anytime you are ready."
"Tomorrow evening?! After your work shift at Dori's teahouse?!"
"Sounds good."
"Oh, Steven, thank you! THANK YOU! You cannot see how much I've always wanted to have this opportunity!" cried Ori as he excitedly bounced on his feet, his eyes shining with delight and his grin so wide and eager it nearly split his entire face. Steve just smiled, his expression so likeable and adoring; Ori was so enthusiastically cute it was difficult to refuse him…
"Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack," quoted Steve as he held Ori's hand and walked towards Bilbo, Fíli, and the other Dwarves, the entire group ready to head home to their warm beds in Erebor on the road home as the sun began to set.
Ori blinked at the reference.
"Excuse me?"
Steve rolled his eyes as he explained, "Never mind. It's from a movie."
"…what is a 'movie'?"
Quite a few of the children and youths (mainly female) sat up a bit straighter, their eyes now wide with a certain keenness that wasn't there previously. The aged Dwarf chuckled as he sipped his hot tea before continuing.
"I was so excited that I was certainly beyond the point of true thrill and excitement when Steven Rogers came to meet me at the Royal Library…"
"Steven!" gasps Ori as he turned suddenly at the gentle yet heavy palm resting on his shoulder, only to see the said Man towering over him with a wry smile, "Oh! Whatever is the matter? I thought…I thought you were going to be at the tea house tonight."
Steven raised one eyebrow as he explained, "Apparently, when I mentioned to Mister Dori that I was planning to privately spend time with you over drawing, he immediately dismissed me from my shift and couldn't push me out of the door fast enough. In fact, he gave me the entire week off and became insistent that I hang around with you, demanding that I spend time with his little brother. I believe he also mentioned how he and Nori will ensure we'll have some privacy and offered his own apartment up for some quiet time from a certain 'shit-faced bastard', as he put it."
"Dori…" groaned Ori, embarrassed as he covered his eyes. He was just grateful that the Captain had a wonderful sense of humor about the entire thing. Steven just chuckled as he offered.
"Do you want me to help out in the Library?" the Man asked, "I don't want to keep you from your responsibilities, and I remember that I didn't finish building the new bookshelves you wanted - "
"No, we can go now!" Ori spoke hurriedly before blushing with embarrassment at his enthusiasm.
By Mahal, why couldn't he stop acting like a hyperactive Dwarfling about this?
Thankfully, Steve laughed softly, seeing Ori's demeanor as endearing before Ori took Steven's hand and led him out of the Royal Library, under scrutiny of the other Dwarves and assistants who were watching this entire flirtation with eagerness for gossip. Ori and Steven both pretended to not hear the furious and keen undertones behind them as they left, although the Dwarf decided that it wouldn't be any different from the rumors already spreading around the Lonely Mountain regarding both himself and Captain America.
As the Dwarf led Steve through the darkened tunnels towards the living quarters, Ori at first wanted to take the Avenger to his own lodgings he shared with Dwalin. Yet then the Royal Scribe recollected the ugliness of the brawl between the two of them during the Trials of Stone (and it took Dwalin three days to not inwardly seethe and froth, red-faced, at the mouth at the mere mention of Steve Rogers), and Ori then decided to avoid the chance of running into Dwalin and provoking another fracas.
Dwalin would understand.
Besides, once Ori finished Steven's drawing, perhaps the stunning art and beauty of it would even convince Dwalin to be more charitable and open to the idea of letting Ori sketch his own portrait for the chronicles of the reclamation of Erebror from Smaug.
As Ori and Steven entered Dori's home, Steven mused at the warm and inviting rugs and fabrics, the spacious metal bench that was large enough to seat several Men, the spic-and-span kitchen, the roaring fireplace in the living room with its cozy steel stools and chairs and pillows.
"Forgive us for the cramped area, Steven," Ori said remorsefully, "The dwellings were never built with the accommodations of non-Dwarven Men and Elves and other friends in mind."
"Actually, I like it. It's homey and warm, like the apartments I used to have before the war," mused Steve, starting to get nostalgic.
That year in Brooklyn, despite the rats and cockroaches that invade their bathroom and kitchen, the rust and mold that could never be scrubbed away no matter how strenuous cleaning efforts, the way the building burned like an oven in the summer and froze like an icebox during the winter, it was the home where Bucky watched over Steve while he was sick with pneumonia in bed, the home where Bucky and Steven shared dinner from tin cans over candlelight and laughing over funny anecdotes, and the home where he and Bucky whispered sweet nothings and caressed bare skin underneath the thin sheets…
As blasphemous as it was to think of, Steven was beginning to feel like Erebor was a second Brooklyn to his soul.
He smiled to himself, at peace.
Ori grinned before he asked innocently.
"Would you like for us to continue here or in the guest bedroom?"
There was a naughty glint in Steve's eyes as he nodded, replying, "The bedroom is fine."
Ori nodded as he led the Avenger towards the bedchambers and lightly closed the door. He nodded towards the bed before he turned his back towards Steven, lighting the candles carefully and placing them on the nightstand nearby. Ori blithely continued on as he heard Steve shuffling in the background.
"Steven, I cannot thank you enough for such an opportunity! All the times where you have given me advice and instruction for my drawing has certainly paid off! Even Balin has commented that my sketches have a noticeable improvement over them!"
It was now easier to bare his soul, for the Dwarf was now finding it difficult to stop telling Steven how he felt, the words pouring out of his mouth like a surging river, a torrent of water…
Ori then bent over as he flipped his sketchbook to a fresh sheet of parchment, white as snow and just ready for the masterpiece he was sure he was about to create. Sharpening his best charcoal with his quill knife, Ori continued talking fondly.
"It's been so wonderful to have both you and Thor Odinson here in Middle Earth. You have no idea how much light and laughter you two Avengers have given to all three of our Kingdoms. You are kind, gentle, and despite a seasoned warrior, you appreciate art, beauty, and tea and show such a soft heart that have made friends with everyone here. Both the influence of you and Thor are so prevalent that now I cannot image the Mountain without your personal touches of adventure and heroism."
Removing his knitted gloves and his scarf and heavy coat before gathering paper and materials in his hands, Ori turned around as he continued to talk, "You have no idea how much I admire your art! We could dedicate an entire shelf of…all…your…drawings…"
The Dwarf trailed off, his blood draining out of his face with each spoken word, his eyes growing wider and wider as time slowed to a crawl, so still and hushed that Ori's heartbeat was drumming soundly in his flushed ears as Ori's breath caught in his throat.
Speechless, dumbfounded, and bewildered, the Dwarf scribe just stared and stared, mouth slightly agape and unable to blink.
There, on the small Dwarven bed, atop the sheets and blankets, was Steven Rogers lying on his side, head propped up with one arm and elbow resting against the straw mattress a few feet away.
Completely naked.
Bare as a newborn baby.
Without a single bit of clothing.
Exposing…everything.
Steve chuckled as he then asked, "Is this pose all right with you, Ori?"
Ori did not answer, did not even make a sound out of his paralyzed throat, as he just stood as still as a statue, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he stared and stared at Steven's impressive organ.
Steve cocked his head, a bit puzzled as he asked, "Would you prefer if I lay on my back for this?"
The Dwarf just continued to stand there as he looked on the perfect musculature and the peach-toned, smooth skin of Steve, without a blemish or a freckle and what little hair growing on his body as light and soft as goose down.
Ori tried to tear his eyes away from Steve's manhood, but he could not help it.
It was like watching a car crash; you just couldn't look away.
So Ori just kept his gaze riveted on Steve's body.
"Ori?" Steven asked, now sounding alarmed, "What's wrong?"
Ori finally managed to raise his head and met the Captain's eyes, stunned and snapping out of his shocked reverie. Yet that one fleeting glance of bewildering numbness jolted Steve into sudden comprehension.
"You…didn't need me to strip…did you?" Steve croaked hoarsely, now having an icy vise clench his heart and stomach as his blue eyes were now widened to comedic proportions, exactly like Ori's. Said Dwarf just looked at the Man vacantly, still befuddled.
Shit.
Steve felt shame and despair crash down on him as he hurriedly stumbled out of the bed, hyperventilating.
"Oh God! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I never meant to hurt you! I didn't mean – I would never – please don't…"
Steven couldn't continue, dejection clogging his voice, but Ori then blinked, coming out of his trance, surprised at the anguished despair in the Man's voice.
"Steven…" Ori began.
"I'll leave, and I'll tell Dori the truth before quitting from his teahouse, and if he wants to pummel me beforehand, I'll gladly accept it. I'll tell King Thorin what I have done so that you won't be victimized and disgraced any further. I'll place all the blame on myself, not you!"
"Steven!" Ori tried to protest again as the blond Man hurriedly threw on his underwear and slacks.
"I'll accept whatever judgment Thorin and Bilbo give to me, for I know it will be fair and the better alternative to having you and your family humiliated! I'll tell Thor to send me out of Middle Earth once I serve my sentence, and he can try bringing in another Avenger to help you with the Orcs like Natasha or Sam or - !"
"STEVEN, STOP!"
That got through as Ori grabbed the Man's shoulder, causing the panicked Steve to look at Ori's face, anxious and breathing hard. In fact, it was safe to say that Steven was uncharacteristically having a small panic attack.
"You're…beautiful…" admitted Ori, blushing.
Steven blinked, which allowed Ori to finally say his next words before his brain even had time to comprehend it.
"Get back on the bed so I can draw you. Please…"
Ori wasn't sure who was more surprised at that request: himself or Steven Rogers. Steven swallowed anxiously before he asked, "Are…are you sure?"
"I want to draw you. All of you…" Ori nodded enthusiastically as he sat down on a stool with his pad and got his charcoal stick ready. Steve shakily exhaled as he removed his pants and undergarments.
"Don't be scared, Steven," Ori encouraged, which brought a smile from the Avenger.
"Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing to you."
At this, many of the girls and young females in the audience leaned forward attentively, their eyes wide and with leery smiles dancing on their faces. Their male compatriots rolled their eyes good-naturedly.
"Well? Go on!" encouraged one of the Elf youngsters.
"What was it like, Elder Ori? Give us all the scandalous details!" drawled a snickering Dale girl, wiggling her eyebrows. The Dwarf couldn't help but smile.
"Believe it or not, strangely therapeutic…"
"Are you quite serious?!" Ori laughed, stopping his sketching so that he wouldn't risk his drawing as he held his stomach and giggled uncontrollably, his mirth echoing throughout the guest bedroom. Steven laughed with his friend, his baritone voice complimenting the scribe's high-pitched shrieks.
"I swear!" Steve chortled, "Bucky was actually crushing on me, and he took the opportunity when I asked to draw him to strip himself naked and see if he could seduce me. It turned out that we both had mutual feelings for each other, and…well, one thing led to another and…er, we had…fondue."
"That is the first time I have ever heard anyone using drawing in such a scandalous manner!"
"Trust me. That was typical of him."
"So you both were intimate even before the war?"
Steve gave a warmhearted and doting glance.
"It transcended simple intimacy, Ori. It was love, love in the purest form only two brothers growing up in Brooklyn and fighting side-by-side could ever feel. Well…loved, anyway…" Steven amended, the realization now bringing a bit of melancholy to his face as his mouth set into a thin line, reliving the memories of the Helicarrier and its aftermath.
Ori started drawing again, taking care to ensure he got the shape of Steven's shoulders just right as he picked up his charcoal stick.
Still, as best as it was to remain silent, Ori couldn't help but try to do anything to get Steven out of his slight depression.
"Tell me more about Bucky…" Ori requested softly as he finished drawing the contours of Steven's thighs, making sure to sketch the shape of his quadriceps correctly. It was so strange how amid the furs and dark colored blankets on Ori's bed, Steve's pale skin practically glowed under the candlelight like a star.
Steven was a bit silent for a minute or two before he exhaled as spoke in a revered tone, fondness surrounding each word, "He's a jerk…but he was my jerk. Bucky never stopped to stand up for what was right, and he would always do it with a quip or a joke as well as that damned sexy smirk of his. It was difficult to tell when I wanted to punch him or kiss him. He always looked out for me after me after my mother passed away, and it didn't matter if we stood up against a pack of bullies or an entire army or even Red Skull himself. Just the two of us who mattered most against the world. I felt guilty whenever Bucky had to cancel a date or had to spend what little money we had to getting me medicine so I could recover, and I thought my heart was going to split apart when Bucky left to fulfill his duty to fight in the war. You couldn't even begin to comprehend how elated and happy I felt when I was chosen for the Super-Soldier program, and even more so when Bucky and I were reunited. From that day on, I may have been in the front lines, but Bucky was the one of the few I trusted to watch my back and pick up any stragglers."
He could still recall the words in his head that one night in the bar…
You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?
Hell, no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I'm following him.
Steve paused in thought before he continued a little sadly.
"A part of me will always feel guilty doing that to Bucky, though. That I changed into Captain America and was no longer the Steve he grew up and looked out for. I remember how he even joked that we were both beginning to switch roles, and he was now the invisible one after Peggy started flirting with me."
"Everyone changes, Steven," Ori emphasized as he shaped Steven's square jaw on the parchment, "It's a given in every life, every soul. Even us Dwarves of stone and rock will weather and chip away from the seasons of sun and rain. As your friend and One, Bucky would continue to love you regardless of the shift into Captain America just as you continued to love him despite the atrocities he committed as the Winter Soldier."
"I thought that too at first," Steve murmured quietly, his face blank despite the ache in his chest. It suddenly felt a bit colder in the room for some reason. Ori wanted nothing more than to hug Steve and banish away his sadness.
"You cannot blame yourself for events beyond your control, or even how Bucky deemed afterwards when you freed him from Hydra's control. Thorin blamed himself for the siege by Smaug when the wyrm conquered the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo blamed himself for invoking Thorin's Dragon-Sickness into attempted murder when he gave away the Arkenstone to the armies at our gates. Anyone could have easily discerned that neither of them were at fault for the evil and actions of others. You and Bucky are no different. How Bucky feels is how he feels, and there is no right or wrong in that," Ori murmured as he rubbed his thumb over the lines of Steven's hair, smudging the charcoal satisfactorily enough to get the right blend of dimness.
"It didn't stop Bucky from pushing me away," muttered Steve with a frown on his face.
"That does not mean he ceased to love you considering your history. Even after all the crimes he has committed as the Winter Soldier, did you stop loving Bucky?"
"Never! A thousand times over, I would have forgiven him and welcome him back! But you don't understand! None of you do! I begged! I pleaded! I argued and promised the world if Bucky could just trust me enough to come back with me so I could help him! But he still left!"
"So why did you not go with him?"
"He said he did not want me to follow him. Bucky told me to stop and forget about him."
Ori paused from drawing the impressive bicep, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement at Steven's answer.
"…just like that?"
"Don't judge me, Ori," retorted Steven hotly with a frown, "Bucky being able to disappear and vanish without a trace due to his Army and Hydra training just made things more difficult."
"You could have used the stubbornness of the Dwarves, Steven. I can assure you that any decent Dwarf who heard that unsatisfactory response would have easily brought back Bucky in a headlock or beleaguered him until the day Arda falls."
"Ori, Bucky has been forced to do things against his will enough times due to Hydra's brainwashing. If I refused to accept his choice, I would have been no better than Rumlow or Pierce. I'm not subjugating Bucky to comply with what I want. You cannot make someone stay with you if they push you away."
Ori looked at Steven with pity, like how a patient teacher would glance at a slow student.
"Steven…" Ori said slowly, making his point, "The times when someone pushes you away are usually the times they need you the most."
Steven blinked before the Man looked up to the ceiling in deep contemplation as Ori began drawing the Avenger's bare feet.
It was funny how such a simple statement was so profound.
Elder Ori paused before he forced himself to continue, each word growing heavier and burdensome.
"It was a week until I finally finished the illustration, with help and suggestions from Steven critiquing my work, and I remember feeling so elated when the portrayal met and surpassed all of our expectations. It was so uplifting and inspirational, a special masterpiece shared just between the two us, as close friends. An exclusive secret token of our friendship, over love of art and my admiration of such a soft-hearted warrior like Steven who did not once ever make me ashamed over my craft. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of leaving my notebook unattended on my desk while I was out with Bifur and Nori on a trip to the lower mines…"
Dwalin just grumbled to himself as he finally realized that his Beloved was nowhere in the vicinity, and now, he was starting to feel a little uncomfortable with all the side glance and stares from the Library staff as they mingled around with their tasks and book-keeping.
Ever since those damned Avengers showed up, the amount of time he and Ori spent together decreased significantly.
Dwalin missed the days and nights where it was Ori who pleaded and begged Dwalin to spend more time with him over his duties with the Ereborian Guard.
The irony of the role reversal was not lost on the burly Dwarf.
Irate, Dwalin was about to leave the Royal Archives when he then spotted a familiar notebook on Ori's metal desk. Even though the quarters of the Head Librarian and Roayl Scribe was off-limits and certainly private, Dwalin merely shrugged away any misgivings of confidentiality before he picked up Ori's sketchpad and began to thumb through the drawings for curiosity's sake.
The Ereborian Raven, Roäc, flapping his wings as he landed on an iron banister, and his feathers drawn in such a pristine and detailed manner against the sunbeams…
The Elk steed of Thranduil, contently grazing on a patch of clover in Bilbo's gardens and looking so majestic and serene that (against his principles) Dwalin was tempted to call the King Tree-Shagger's pet beautiful…
The imposing rock statue of the Dwarven Guard near the Hidden Stairway, with the lights from the city of Dale in the background casting a comforting glow against the starry sky that Dwalin could swear he could picture the fireflies and cold breeze of the moon…
A heartwarming picture of Beorn the Shapeshifter, smiling toothily with Princess Tilda riding on his shoulders and laughing with delight as the Bear-Man carried her, dancing a jig so lively Dwalin could almost hear music in his head…
Dwalin had to admit that Balin was right.
Ori's drawings were showing a significant improvement as of late.
He couldn't actually say for sure, but even Dwalin could note that under Steven Roger's guidance and instruction, all the nuances of shading and shadows and the way the charcoal lines blended and cut against each other transcended Ori's sketches into actual life-like images, as if they could spring forth from the paper. Ori was truly mastering his craft in a way that quill and ink could never replicate.
Suddenly, Dwalin felt a bit of shame in his stomach.
Even after everything that happened, Steven was only trying to encourage his One's happiness and passion.
By Mahal, I can't believe I'm thinking about it, Dwalin thought as he continued to flip through the sketchbook, But perhaps my brother and dear Ori have a point.
Maybe I should just swallow my blasted pride and apologize to Steven Rogers.
Maybe I could actually try to get along with that pon-…with Captain America and Thor Odinson.
Maybe I shouldn't be so hostile. There's no good reason to feel threatened and hand on my damned jealousy just because the Avenger gets along so well with Ori.
Maybe –
And then Dwalin turned to the last page in the sketchbook…
"I take it Master Dwalin absolutely exploded with anger and made enough of a din to rival a Fellbeast?" asked one of the Dale children.
"Actually, to everyone's astonishment, it took a while for it to come about," admitted Ori sheepishly.
"Adad…" Gimli asked hesitantly as he side-eyed the twitching and purple-faced Dwalin with some wary confusion, "Is Master Dwalin going to explode?"
"Let's go get your Uncle Óin," sighed Glóin as he led his son out of the grand library, not wanting to stick around when his comrade decisively snapped. Leaving the shell-shocked and furiously traumatized Dwalin, shaking with rage as he continued staring at the offensive drawing in his clutched grip, wrinkling the thick parchment in his clenched fingers.
What worried Fíli was that aside from the convulsions, Dwalin did not move from his position for fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes.
It was the proverbial calm before the storm.
Chary and incredibly mindful of Dwalin's state of mind, Fíli, Kíli, and the Elf Tauriel stayed behind with the Dwarf Guard, looking at the offending sketch. Much to Prince Kíli's ire, Tauriel kept gazing at the sight of the nude Steven Rogers with glazed eyes and a wide and frozen dreamy smile on her face.
Fíli couldn't help but remark upon the portrait, "By Mahal, Master Rogers certainly has a big…"
Fíli's face then turned white and clammy upon Dwalin suddenly looking at the blond Prince with a bloodshot and bulging eye.
Fíli gulped.
"…uh – sword. I meant 'sword'. Master Rogers has a big sword," Fíli finished lamely.
Kíli, in his typical obliviousness, couldn't help but pipe up in confusion.
"Sword?!" echoed Kíli, befuddled not noticing how the vein in Dwalin's forehead pulsed and turned more purple with each spoken word, "What – ow! – sword?! I do not see – ow! – a sword! The only – ow! – thing I – ow! – see is – ow! – that – ow! – ponce's – ow! – big – Fíli, stop kicking me!"
"Master Dwalin, would Master Ori be willing to sell this masterpiece?" Tauriel could not help but ask.
"The situation went to absolute pot when I returned back from my duties. It has been over three hundred years, and yet I can still smell the ash from the roaring fireplace and the smell of the firewhiskey permeating the parlor when I entered the apartments…" Ori continued in an emotionless voice.
"Dwalin!" Ori exclaimed as he closed the door, "Are you all right? It's past midnight and…why are you drinking at this late hour?"
There was no response, and the burly Dwalin just sat there at the table, his face hidden in the shadows as he sat, hunched over the dining table with a small crystal shot glass of firewhiskey in his hand. His expression behind his beard was blank, numb.
Dwalin didn't mean to; he only intended to have one drink of liquor to soothe his fuming nerves and his writhing gut.
Unfortunately, as the excruciating wait lingered on and on, one drink became two…
Then two drinks became five…
Then five drinks became three-quarters of the bottle…
Despite the fermented alcohol buzzing in his head and causing his senses to swim around his befuddled brain and skull, it was immediately erased as the volcano in his heart and soul began to percolate and bubble madly upon sensing Ori standing in the living room.
"Did you have a nice time with your good friend, Master Rogers?" Dwalin growled huskily and with pure venom without looking up.
Ori felt a shiver of perplexity and trepidation go down his spine as he crinkled his brow, shocked.
"…I do not know what you are talking about, Dwalin. Steven is out exploring the Earth Eater tunnels with Bilbo and Legolas, and I spent recording deposits in the mines with Bifur."
To Ori's deepening unease, Dwalin's voice became absolutely arctic, chilling the room all around them despite the crackling fire in the hearth.
"Is that all?"
Ori slowly walked forward towards Dwalin in concern; the Royal Scribe was starting to get worried now.
"Dwalin…whatever is the matter?" Ori asked as he slowly reached for Dwalin's callused hands, "Is something - ?"
Ori ended the sentence abruptly as Dwalin jerked his hand away from his fiancé's before he shot up from his seat, took the empty tumbler glass from the table, and hurled it against the far wall, shattering it into microscopic pieces with an eerie tinkling noise. Ori was rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and too shocked to even flinch.
"You deny it then?" hissed Dwalin, beads of spittle flying out of his clenched teeth.
"Deny what?!" gasped Ori, white in the face.
"You deny you and the noble, faultless Steven Rogers have been sneaking off to this way and that? You deny how you and he flirt shamelessly with each other in front of the entire Lonely Mountain? You deny how you and he lust in the shadows?! You deny how you both have caressed each others' bodies while I was fulfilling my duty to the King?! You deny how you let Steven ravish you?! You deny how you sucked him off?! You deny how you let him fill you in our own bed?! In our own home?! YOU FAITHLESS WHORE!"
Each sentence became increasingly bitter, potent, until it rose as a crescendo of unadulterated hate, vehemence, outrage, and visceral agony all mixed in a storm of whiskey and shame until the purple-face Dwalin was screaming in the scribe's face, his eyes wild and his beard frizzled and sticking out, bristling.
Ori felt his heart drop to his feet after cracking with each hurled accusation.
"Dwalin, please! I have not done any of the things you have accuse me of?! Dwalin, this is ridiculous!"
The Dwarf Captain's next words were dripping with utter resentment as he then held up Ori's notebook.
"Explain this, then, love…" Dwalin spat.
Ori went white in the face as he then looked upon the image of the sketch he drew of Steven Rogers lying naked. And the realization of what this looked like sunk a boulder of despair and anxiety down to his stomach.
"It means nothing! Nothing had ever occurred between Steven and I! I asked Steven to pose for me because I thought he was beautiful, because I wanted to preserve this in memory and in our recorded history!" protested Ori, his cheeks hot.
Dwalin's eyes glinted dangerously in the shadows as the cords in his neck tightened, the purple vein bulging out of his forehead forebodingly.
"You admit it, then?" Dwalin rumbled, "You admit your infidelity?"
"Dwalin, stop, please! There was no infidelity! Nothing is further from the truth! I drew and spied upon Steven naked, yes! But all we did was talk about his past and his relationship with Bucky! That is all that had occurred!" the scribe placated, whimpering, but his fiancé would have none of it.
Dwalin's response was acidly curt.
"I do not believe you."
"It is the truth!" Ori begged, "Steven is my friend, but you are my One! There is simply nothing between Steven and I except as friends and good comrades who have bonded over art!"
"OVER ART?!" Dwalin hollered loudly enough for the neighbors to hear his wrath, "OVER ART?! YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE YOU AND THAT DAMNED CAPTAIN AMERICA TREASURE EACH OTHER'S COMPANY AND SPEND EVERY WAKING MOMENT BONDING OVER THIS – THIS – GARBAGE?!"
Horrifying and shocking Ori to the core, Dwalin then cruelly flipped open his One's artpad with a simply flick on his thumb before he then reached out and ripped out the drawings out of the thick pad, tearing them and crumpling them into ruined wads of paper strips and fragments.
"No!" Ori cried as he rushed over and tried to grab at his treasured notepad, but with a violent push, Dwalin shoved Ori to the floor with one arm, sending the smaller Dwarf sprawling on his side.
Unburdened, the Dwarf Guard then continued to rip as much as he could.
Within seconds, over and over, leaflet and leaflets of tattered, torn, and ripped pages fell to the stone floor, with Dwalin furiously tearing apart as much as he could with all of his strength.
How dare he?
This ugly mantra repeated itself over and over Dwalin's head as he set to destroy every inch of Ori's damned sketchbook.
How dare Ori cheat on him? How dare his One betray him over charcoal and paper and a damned Man of sunny hair and sunny smiles? How dare he?
Ori screamed as his eyes welled up with tears, petrified.
"Stop! Please don't! Those drawings mean everything to me!" the scribe cried.
Though Ori certainly did not mean that sentence the way it sounded, it only added fuel to Dwalin's rage as his ire skyrocketed, erupting into a very ugly, ugly thought.
"You want your precious sketchbook?" spat Dwalin with malice.
And with that, the burly Dwarf Captain flung the fragile pad directly into the roaring fireplace, embedding it into the flames.
Ori screamed without words as he frantically dashed towards the hearth and grabbed at his cherished notebook, with the edges of the paper already smoldering and curling from the heat. Desperately, Ori beat back the small wisps of flame threatening to destroy all his memories on parchment, managing to save it from being completely consumed. Yet given the scorch marks and the edges already now a lifeless and permanent soot of black, it was damaged for good.
Ori cradled the pad of parchment close to his chest, distraught.
He would have preferred it if Dwalin struck him.
"You traitorous skunk!" roared the Guard Captain, "You're nothing more than a pissed faced liar! You…you humiliated me! You have brought dishonor and laughed behind my back while I remained devoted, you underhanded viper! How much you and Steven laughed, seeing everyone else in the Lonely Mountain guess how the both of you found comfort in each other's arms, the poor Royal Scribe unable to seek refuge and solace from his dimwitted and foolhardy Dwalin! Creeping up to Captain America ever since he arrived here with Thor! How much you enjoyed the kind and gentlehearted Captain over the mule-faced and brazen Dwarf who stuck with you thick and the thin during the Quest to reclaim Erebor from Smaug! The Dwarf who protected you from the Goblins! The Dwarf who encouraged your brothers to let you fight and grow! The Dwarf who bolstered you through your terrors and nightmares while being chased by Azog! The Dwarf who risked and sacrificed everything to court you, and no one else but you! The Dwarf who loved you! And yet you have no shame in tossing that aside for a shield-wielding fop as if those efforts meant less than nothing! In front of everyone to see! You dishonest snake! Your innocent face hides a viper's tongue and heart! I cannot say you are anything but a fickle double-dealer, you pathetic whore! You are even more two-faced than your Spymaster brother, you tart!"
Ori's heart was pounding painfully against his chest, threatening to cause the blood rushing to his head and make the Dwarf pass out.
This was getting horribly, horribly out of control.
Ori pleaded as he stood up, "Love, please! I'll get Steven! He can straighten this entire mess out and clear up this whole misunderstanding - !"
Unfortunately, that was exactly the wrong thing to say as Dwalin's volcanic ire spewed forth out of his soul and heart, fiery, unstoppable, and completely destructive.
"You want your precious Steven Rogers here, to comfort and woo you and defend your honor like the piss-filled shining knight you praise him to be?! You want Captain America here?! You want to lavish under his concern and attention and be a part of his blasted life as a heroic Avenger?! That is completely fine! Because I am finished with you!"
And to Ori's horror, Dwalin roughly grabbed him by the shoulder, with Dwalin's fingers clenching painfully into his skin and flesh before reaching out with his other hand towards Ori's head.
With an excruciating sharp pain, Dwalin callously ripped the lovingly crafted courting bead out of Ori's braid, taking a sizeable amount of hair in his clenched fist. Ori cried out in pain as he automatically clasped at the side of his head only to find the treasured part of his life and love missing, like a piece of his soul was torn off.
"I will go tomorrow morning to the King and ask his permission for our courtship to be officially annulled for irreconcilable differences so not to shame either of our families. That will still leave you with your honor and unsullied enough for you to run off with your beloved Captain America. Unlike you, I actually don't wish to ruin your reputation," Dwalin spat, although one could noticed his voice quavering with grief, his eyes red from liquor and tears, his trembling lip underneath his beard.
Hurriedly and with stiff movements, Dwalin turned around and began walking out of their living quarters. Now desperate and frantic, Ori rushed over and grabbed at Dwalin's arm, trying to get him to stay.
"Dwalin, please! Do not go!"
"Get out of my way," growled Dwalin, the grief and numbness in his soul slurring his already drunken words. Pinching the scribe's wrist with one thumb and forefinger, Dwalin extracted Ori's fraught grip around his arm.
Despairing, Ori beseeched as he latched his arms around Dwalin's muscular waist in an effort to hug him and remain still.
"You have it all wrong! You do not know the entire story!"
"Get out of my way…" muttered Dwalin again, this time his voice hard and barbed with thin resentment. With a restrained shove and his fraying temper, Dwalin released himself from Ori's embrace.
Ori then dashed and blocked Dwalin's way entirely, trying once again to get Dwalin to listen to reason.
"Âzyungâl! Please!" begged Ori.
Dwalin snapped.
To be fair, he only meant to shove Ori out of the way.
Dwalin vaguely did not plan to grab his One by the shoulders and hurl the scribe aside, with as much hatred and anger as he would have for an Orc.
Dwalin did not intend to use so much force in his shove, did not intend to physically hurt Ori in any way.
And Dwalin certainly did not mean to aim Ori directly at the parlor table…
There was a crash and a gut-wrenching cry of pain as Ori's upper body slammed into the metal furniture, bending it upon impact and leaving Ori amid the wreckage.
Vision blurring slightly, Ori tried to gingerly pick himself off the floor in an attempt to plead and reason with his fiancé, only for the scribe to hiss in pain as he applied weight on his left wrist. Delicately, Ori cradled his arm close to his chest only to find it incredibly tender as the freckled skin was now pink, inflamed, and beginning to swell with fresh blood leaking out of his bruised skin.
Certainly sprained if not broken.
Time figuratively froze for Dwalin as he realized what had just happened.
Ori, despite the pain, looked up at the shell-shocked Dwalin, tears pooling his eyes as he pleaded one word.
"Dwalin…"
For one moment, the shock and horror threatened to break Dwalin's heart.
Dwalin wanted to gather up his fiancé in his arms.
Dwalin wanted to hug Ori's tears away and apologize.
Dwalin wanted to beg for forgiveness and repeat that he did not mean to injure his One, his precious treasure, his Heart, and lament over the injury as he would bundle up Ori to the nearest healer.
Unfortunately, the memory of the muscular and angelic Steven Rogers smiling with Ori in his warm and inviting arms crashed through his stupor.
And Dwalin's heart hardened again.
"You best go to your beloved Steven to fix that for you," Dwalin stated flatly, almost matter-of-fact. And for some reason, the lifeless tone was far worse to Ori than all the raging temper and senseless screaming.
Dwalin abruptly turned around and strode out of the apartment. Leaving Ori alone in the ruins of their home and their lives.
Instead of immediately getting medical attention for his sprained wrist, Ori hugged his numb knees to his chest, buried his face in his arms, and wept piteously.
"And with that, Dwalin left and moved into his brother's apartments in the Royal Wings. The next day, he went to Thorin and asked for our betrothal to be dissolved for reasons of irreconcilable differences. Thorin was pained, according to Bilbo, but he granted the request with grace and honor and ensured that neither of us would be shunned or harassed for the divorce and bring shame to our families by his order," Elder Ori stated, his voice threatening to quiver. By Mahal, even after all these years, it was still an uncomfortable memory.
Ori's son, who was listening as he was leaning against the cavern wall, looked down somberly at his feet. The children were sniffling and wiping their eyes, and even the Elf youngsters themselves looked a bit emotional. One young male Elf then asked his question hesitantly.
"How did you brother react when he found out that Master Dwalin left you?"
"Which one: Dori or Nori?" the aged Dwarf asked with a grim smile.
"Both of them, I suppose."
"Fortunately, after requiring a day to calm down his temper, Dori managed to deal with Dwalin in a rational and mature manner…"
Balin felt his head swim with relief as he made up the stairs towards his apartment.
After twelve hours of negotiating trade agreements, four meetings with the Mirkwood Elves, researching part border maps to settle a property dispute with the Firebeard Dwarves, and an endless line of citizens from Dale and Erebor with complaints, requests, or supplications for money, the Royal Advisor was more than willing to just go to his soft bed and sleep for the next twelve hours…
Upon opening the door, Balin admirably did not react in the slightest as he took in the ruined and broken furniture in the living room, the cracked holes in the walls, and how in the middle of the parlor were Dwalin and Dori, brawling it out.
"BREAK MY BROTHER'S HEART, WILL YOU?!" roared Dori as he continued to throttle Dwalin, "WELL IN RETURN, I'LL BREAK YOUR DAMNED NECK, YOU SHIT-FACED BASTARD!"
After several seconds of quick thought, Balin did an about face and closed the door, leaving his brother and Ori's brother to continue their fight amid furious cursing and pummelings.
The border annexes between the Lonely Mountain and the Firebeard kingdoms could use another double-check, now that he considered it…
There was an uncomfortable silence from the gaggle of children before one Hobbit girl announced with disbelief, "That was considered 'rational' and 'mature'?"
"Compared to what Dori originally wanted to do, yes," Ori said.
"But Elder Ori, I do not understand," piped up one teenage Elf, "If Master Dori wanted you to break your courtship with Master Dwalin so Steve Rogers could court you, then shouldn't he have been ecstatic?"
"There is a difference in Dori's mind between Dwalin breaking the courtship and I myself breaking the courtship," Ori said with a touch of sadness.
"And how did Master Nori react to Master Dwalin's actions?" a Dale teenager quieried.
"Nori…used a more indirect way of showing his disapproval," Ori murmured, selecting his words very carefully.
"Who waked the giant that napped in America? We know it's no-one but Captain America. Who'll finish what they began? Who'll kick the Krauts to Japan? The Star Spangled Man with a Plan!"
Dwalin gritted his teeth so hard that they were beginning to grind against each other, each throbbing movement issuing forth bits of bone to pile against his gums and mouth.
He would like nothing better than to take his Grasper and Keeper and cleave the skulls of all four of the Dale Men singing the damned ditty. Not to mention every Dale resident who (for some very odd reason) kept warbling the song audibly enough for him to hear whenever Dwalin was within earshot.
Unfortunately, after the seventh person complained to King Bard about his injuries inflicted by said Dwarf (Dwalin insisted that he was perfectly justified in breaking the Guard's nose), Bard got Thorin and Balin involved and let them know that under no terms was this behavior acceptable whenever Dwalin visited the city.
Balin then made the subtle threat that they still were looking for an Ereborian representative to attend the monthly meetings in Mirkwood.
The thought of spending several hours each month listening to the debates between using sulfur ash or salt ash to rid the trees of earwigs was enough for Dwalin to just bite the proverbial bullet and continue stomping through Dale hurriedly, trying his best to drown out the crooning as the four Gaurds continued on yet another iteration of the hymn.
"Who's strong and brave, here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and day? Who will campaign door-to-door for America, carry the flag shore to shore for America, from Hoboken to Spokane, the Star Spangled Man with a Plan!"
"I will not go into a rampage…" hissed the burly Dwarf to himself, "I will not go into a rampage…I would love to go into a rampage…but I will not go into a rampage…"
As Dwalin passed by the chanting group, seething and holding on to his anger by the slimmest of margins, a voice from the shadows softly and discreetly spoke from them.
"Excellent job, good sirs! Did you see the look on his face? I will treasure that for decades to come!"
"I trust you are satisfied, Master Nori?"
"Certainly! And as promised, here are your payments," the Ereborian Spymaster said as he discreetly placed a small pouch of gold in the Man's hand, "Divide that between the four of you."
"Same time next week? We are stationed in the rear gates when Master Dwalin finished his escort with Thorin over with King Bard."
"Of course! Just be sure to practice a bit. Some of you were a little flat on the lyrics. I need perfect pitch and tune and lively singing, not some half-hearted ditty. I want effort, good chaps!"
"Are you not worried about wasting away all your money for this non-ending charade?" another sentinel asked, cocking his head. Nori just smirked.
"Surely you jest!" scoffed Nori, "I have not even made a dent in the profits I earned from the fan-clubs!"
