Better Angels

Better Angels

Pairing: Thorin x Tessa (Modern OC)

Words: 3,489

Ratings: Gen Audience

Warnings: none

A/N:  The grief -fresh in her dearheart's soulful eyes- tumbles around with Tessa's head with heartache of her own, and what follows is told through her POV.

Summary:  After their brief time apart, morning found Tessa finally rejoining the others in the makeshift infirmary on Erebor's groundfloor. By Mahal's Grace and every dwarves' fingers-crossed, Thorin Oakenshield II pulled through and is in recovery after his skiff on Ravenhill. The Mountain seemed even brighter on the inside, its history far beyond what she imagined. Tessa couldn't hold back her questions in her eagerness to see him again, and wanted to hear everything from his own lips. Thorin welcomed her familiar, doting company at his bedside, but also realized he has his guilt to reckon with before he can even consider taking the Throne as King. In his honesty to Tessa, he shares his bout with darkness that threatened to take his sanity and respect, and hopes this does not stain her view of him in return. Clearly she missed something big....

Read on AO3

It hit me the next morning when I woke– I never asked about the Throne Room! 

Every dwarf filing into the Halls was bustling with important things like keeping their King alive, so I never thought to stop someone and ask to see it. I was drained enough as it was, when I saw him… what a sight that must have been. Even after a wash down, I felt dirty as sin from ash and smoke and leftover dragon bile, topped with a mess of tears seeing him on the brink of life and death. 

My adrenaline tanked when my head hit the pillow, and though every square inch of this place needed a deep clean with a couple hundred Swiffer mops, I was way too exhausted to care about tidiness. In our huddle outside the hospital wing, there was a fire, the six of us non-injured Company members sleeping in shifts just like old times- that comfort meant the world to me after the days I spent away. 

In the morning I found myself raring to help, but wanted to go back and check in with everyone, first thing. When we all visited our friends and brothers again with breakfast in tow, I took my waiting place on the King’s bed while Dori checked on Fili first. 

Wrappings and heat warmers aside, Thorin sported color in his cheeks today, which was a fantastic sign. Sleep must have come easier with the roots Oin gave him. From the way he moved, his abdomen must be feeling better because he could scoot up to the headboard all on his own, making room for me to sit. 

Washing down my first bite, I shared my waking thoughts with him, 

“Well, hon, if we can get you out of this bed here soon, it’s time to get you back to your throne where you belong~. It’s all yours now, isn’t it!” 

There’s so much I wanted to catch up on; time flew as we'd spent the last few weeks away from each other in a whirlwind. Surely he'd had plenty of time to refamiliarize himself with his home before the battle. Our friends had been armed and prepared for it, judging by the state of everyone's armor. 

I really should've paced myself; Thorin only just woke up. But I couldn't bite back the questions now, there were so many. But I was most curious about him– what living meant, now that he'd made it through the night and could see his future more brightly,

“How does it feel? Take you right back? Only now, you're taking the best seat in the house," I remembered aloud.

…Thorin's expression fell altogether. The last thing I ever wanted to have happen because of something I said; I regretted asking- though I didn’t know why.

“-What?”

Then abruptly he just– cut away. Not looking at me at all, but rather his feet; sulking away like the sad sight of a guilty child. Even when I cocked my head to cue him to look up, he wouldn't.

In all these months, this was the first ounce of hesitation I’d ever seen in Thorin. The one time I’d ever dare call him feeble: 

"Thorin?"

"I-... They’ve not told you, have they."

"Told me what?"

Grief heaved across his face. You can tell by the way he struggled to breathe– the normal ebb of his chest didn’t lift in that steady, sure rise. 

In the gap of quiet, I stretched out, turning from my twisted seat off the side of the bed to prop up my legs alongside his. He wiped at his brow with a still-stiff hand in search of words, the right words. Whatever had happened proved hard for him to swallow, let alone speak.

"A grace that they didn’t." Thorin murmured under his breath before speaking up, "You weren't here to see it, when we arrived at the Door. To see me, what became of me inside.” To pacify my growing worry, Thorin laid his hand over mine.  “And to be true, I am glad for it."

Under his palm, I held it back to try and stop its tremor. "See you? In– what way?"

The confession barely passed his lips,

 "... I turned goldsick."

The longest fear he’d held: the one taunted to him by kings and trolls alike for months- refusing at every turn to anyone who would listen the very idea of succumbing to his grandfather’s fate –

...it came true anyway.

"Oh, Thorin," I only scooted closer- not away, never away. (And that, plainly, surprised him, if his brows freezing in place was any indication.) "What happened?"

Internal debate brought Thorin's eyes to close for a minute, but he shook his head at the end, 

"The things I said, I cannot take back.  I'd give nearly anything for the chance to scrub them away... How Bilbo can even look me in the eye is beyond me. It's inexcusable." 

The groove of his top lip twitched at some tortured memory,

"Once the dragon left, my heart turned toward the gold around me, and never looked away. This- damned lust settled in my chest… Had this grip on my mind and– what felt like my very soul. It was a dream, and not a dream, because I can remember every moment passed .. almost like a morning fog."

Thorin reasoned with the thought a moment, the followed up, 

"To answer you, I’ve not returned to that cursed room. How could I? How can I sit there, when the very sight of the gilded stone we used in our haste lies poured solid across the floors below?… It reflects everywhere. We’d never piece it up again if we tried for another sixty years."

His heavy brows sagged in their agony. I listened on until Thorin's large thumb stilled and held onto my hand like a lifeline,

"I was horrid, Tessa. You'd never recognize me."

How his heart made the claim as fact so surely, broke mine.

"Of course I would. You're still you, even if you're 'not yourself'."

"-But I was myself.” 

Thorin finally braved to look up: firm as ever, and brokenhearted,

“–Foul and greedy and sick," he said, "Even in the dark when I lay alone trying to sleep. My madness mixed about with the fallen who came before me; the curse passed through my lips as it would their own. I could taste those acrid words as they slipped from me– and I believed them. I'd–...I believed every word." 

I knew my pity must have been readable, because his guilt rose with each sin he confessed:

“I led us to war when it was not necessary. Peace may have been an option, had I but honored my word. Our allies presented joint arms and I refused. I set my brethren to count coins instead of hunt, I let men, women, children dig themselves out from Smaug’s wreckage and leant no help– all while I writhed in my wealth and excess.” Thorin’s words wavered with his head, “I set my own.. my own kin to anger against me. It is by Mahal’s Grace that I have them with me now.”

It clicked why no one told me. This seemed like a huge shift in Thorin’s character to have watched him suffer through. Seemed it was aptly named- a sickness. One he’s clearly sought forgiveness for, and they’ve very clearly wished for nothing more than to move on from. I could see it in how Balin prayed over his healing, how Kili kept asking about him, how everyone cared so much– even given how he’d allegedly treated them all.

The very sink of his shoulders pushing him down sent my chest into an ache. Prostrate as David before the Lord– or as much as he could manage in a makeshift bed.

"I am worthy of that throne no more.” Thorin braced his head as he had before, “Who would follow a slipshod king prone to such weakness?"

This was his truth as he knew it. I reached for Thorin’s other hand.

"Here, c’mere–” 

While he looked tense to receive anything resembling comfort in this moment when he’s already so exposed of the heart, Thorin surrendered it. 

Massive, steel-worn hands, cupped by thin, spread-wide fingers like mine… harmless by comparison. 

Holding them fast seemed second nature; with both the reverence as a king deserved, but also with the care of someone who oh-so deserved something soft for once in his life. No rings adorned his hands now. Before I would have thought this was necessary for hygiene and bandaging; though now I suspect it was a choice of unworthiness. I couldn’t stop myself; I kissed them both. 

I still can’t fathom having a royal title over my head like he does. Holding any kind of political office –or even some stuffy position on a board of trustees seems daunting enough to me. With royal expectations and generations' past leaving their pressures lying on my shoulders like a fur cloak, not to mention being held up by a bum leg that's keeping me trapped to a bed for the next few weeks? That handicap alone –however temporary– would be frustrating enough on its own. 

And to face the oliphaunt in the room, let no one forget that this room is chock full of people suffering from injuries from top to bottom. There was a war outside these walls. We fought a frickin’ war and won. 

Really, what could I say to give counsel to a mastermind behind that undertaking? 

But as I sat back up, the way this guy looked at me caught me in the moment. His eyes set to hear my words like I hung the stars myself. This reminds me of every time we’ve gotten a second alone: this is Thorin. This is the man - no. ‘It's dwarf, lass, and a proud one’- that has to sit with himself at the end of the day, and reason with the same questions as anyone else: 

‘Have I done my best’, ‘Was it enough’, ‘What can I do better tomorrow’. 

And yes, he has to think about those things for the greater good of his people, first… but I’m positive he worries over those things for his own peace of mind. Or else, why would he have brought his friends, his kin, his own flesh and blood along with him to the hardest challenge of his life? He needed them. Surely, even he wrestled with those wants when he’s completely alone. The ones that crop up in the quiet, from the haze of his pipe, 

–a calm, quiet, ‘I could really use a friend right now’.

Rubbing out the tension in his hands is my next move- a nervous gesture of busyness I tend to hide most of the time when I make some excuse to be around him. But it does serve a purpose of relief. Not much, but maybe enough for now.

I offered my hardest to relate, to ease that tension in his brow:

"We all have inner demons. Whether they were born there or worked their way in somehow. And sometimes, our better angels are just so quiet, it's hard to hear them over the noise."

Thorin cocked his head to understand the idea.

"But you listened, hon'," a pause to give a kiss to his tented knuckles, and again, "You listened to your angels in the end; they haven't left you. You came out of it. You chose to do that, yourself. And they all know that–” 

Thorin glanced to where I nodded: somewhere behind me, to the hall and Halls beyond. 

“There's no second thoughts from any of them, whether or not to follow you."  I assured him "–wasn’t any doubt from the start. Your Company was well-chosen. Knew every one of those concerns, always heard you out, and yes- maybe even considered that temptation about you. And yet, they still kept with you anyway, and from the looks of things- all your injuries, notwithstanding- every risk was worth it."

And these were no small injuries- to him, least of all. Scores of his own kind lost their lives in this fight.

My gut backpedaled to the point, 

"That's not to say I'm happy for what you went through! Please don't think that I'm grateful for that part; you've suffered enough." My fingers slipped to lace through his. "Hearing voices- ghosts, insomnia, what have you- that sounds like a form of torture I’d not wish on my worst enemy. Thorin, no one would want more of that for you... you don't deserve it."

To prove I was earnest, I took a few fingers to chip his chin up from where he locked onto my hands in wonderment. This part was important:

"But– you’re no less deserving of what’s rightfully yours just because you stumbled. That's being human– mortal, guilty to a fault. It can, and has, and will, happen again to even the highest among you.”

Thorin is listening– but that edge of doubt still bobbed his head back and forth, scoffing at the idea. Too hard on himself, this one.

“If it wasn’t you, might’ve been Fili next, wouldn’t it? By your thinking, this temptation would have been the 'Durin Family Blight of Erebor'.”

At this, Thorin’s sights flitted to his nephew’s bed, across the way. A spike of fear and steely readiness shook his bones, unseen. He hadn’t considered that. 

“You think… he would have done the same?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged a little lightly. “- and even if he did,” the fact remained, “Would you have turned away from his side because of how it changed him?”

A quick, sharp blurt, “Never.”

Of course, you wouldn't. I smirked through it. 

“And do you think I wouldn’t be telling him the same thing I’m telling you now? It’s no less true, no matter who in your family this applies to.”

This was funny territory, playing hypotheticals in reverse– to rework the past rather than guessing the future. The Company thrived on telling me visions of Erebor our whole way here; didn’t give a second thought to the life I’d left behind, and instead fed be images that I wasn't totally certain I believed at the time. Plus I’m still not sure where I stand on the whole ‘cursed gold’ situation myself. That sounds like the kind of thing from faerie tales. 

–Then again, here I am in Middle Earth… so I’ll be shutting up now.

“Point is, whatever happened when you first came here is no reason to abdicate your throne, Thorin.”

A little, thoughtful hum passed in the moment, though he didn’t look altogether convinced. 

Thorin's sights still flickered to Fili, thoughtfully as he pondered his nephew. 

I stopped him in his tracks, 

“His time will come, you said so yourself.” I blocked his view with a little lean, “But now’s not the time to step down. You’ve done nothing by step up and up and up. The moment you came back to your right self, you came out onto that balcony and asked them to follow you head first against an entire Orc legion, and lead the charge yourself." 

The imagery still thrilled me. Kili made it sound so glorious- majestic. In fact- given what he’d overcome, it meant even more now.

"--You are their King– the only one they'd ever accept after all this time. And the one they'd live and sing and die for, even now."

And then– that look came back. Like a narrative was swirling around my head like Tweedy-birds, Thorin looked me over like a man dazed.  

Y'know, to put my finger on it, he stared just the same as he did at every stop and rest we’d taken from the Rolling Hills to Dale. He’s mulling over things I’d said, trying to ‘get me’. I hoped he’d be remembering the good ones:

'It's coming, Blue Eyes. You've earned the rest that comes at the end of this- even if I have to beat it into submission. I've got little arms, but sheer Southern spite to back it up.-- Don't believe me? I'll do it!'

'Yknow I may not have a magic 8-ball in front of me, but I see a couch in your future. A couch, a bed of ridiculously-sized pillows, a hot bath, and all the mead you can drink. (No, Nori, I’m not a wizardess! NO, it's not real magic-It’s an expression!)'

'Home is coming; peace is coming- for you, and everyone else. Please, for the love of God, take it when the time comes.'

You've suffered enough.

You've suffered enough.

You've suffered enough.

Wait… 

Oh God, Thorin’s one blink away from crying. 

And I would too, if I wasn't careful. Sympathetic crier..

Was I that good at making folks emotional?? Didn’t take much around me, apparently. Balin, the Ri’s, Kili, even Bombur that one time I sang a flipping Hamilton song. (Then again, if you don’t choke up at ‘Burn’, do you even have a heart?)

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for the worst of things, Thorin…” I shook any heady mush away. “But seeing you now, I'd take every ounce of that dragon-sick memory from you if I could, if it'd only take that poor look off your face."

Thorin pardoned the sentiment with a brush to my hands entrapped in his. 

"N'yway, I think… Even at its worst?… It's nothing I wouldn't have loved you through."

The bleary haze sobered, Thorin flickered to life.

"Loved?" he asked. 

What could I say?

…well. Yes. “Love,” I decided. “Present tense.”

Not the finest confession, but we’d danced around the label so far and said everything but the three words to each other. 

I knew it, felt it, even if I’d not said it. 

And yet… I don’t quite know what I was expecting, but Thorin sure didn't melt into a full-on puddle at whatever I said in those imaginings. Not as he did now. Blue Eyes just centered back on my hand and sniffed his emotion back. I think I rendered him speechless, until he glanced up he chimed into his regular, deep timbre,

“Master Oin,”

I turned to see our lovely healer Oin in his element, with a massive tray harness coming up on my right. His vending case of herbalist goods was traded out to what he usually must work with in an infirmary, filled with all sorts of things; namely bandage rolls, compresses, and sacks of medicine pouches. Just in time for the King’s daily dose. 

“Aye, got yer breakfast in ye already, Thorin? Gonna have to keep you, ‘round, lassie,” Oin’s free hand batted at my shoulder and shook it, “Pulling teeth to get him to eat somethin’ down last night, it was...”

I gave Thorin a bit of a look, to which he muted an eye roll. 

“Call me childish all you like,” Thorin droned, “But my stomach was in knots, in both senses of the word.”

“And ye know what helps that along? Bit of this, bit of that– and a solid meal in you to settle in!” Oin’s curmudgeonly side kicked into high gear, pointing at just the sorts of things Thorin needed to get well. Of all his patients at the moment, seems the one that needed the most ‘patience’ indeed was the King himself. 

Dwalin teased me just earlier that I might need to keep on snack duty for the foreseeable future, just to make sure no one keels over. 

Gotta say, this wasn’t the most ideal timing, given we were most definitely interrupted, but I slid off the bed with a happy step, straightened the covers to let Oin have his space.

“I’ll leave you to it,” I cleared the way, and to Thorin, “And I’ll gladly check on you later with a bite of lunch, huh?”

“Please do,” Thorin answered at the ready. A touch softer than he just quipped back to Oin, but he returned to his usual self as Oin chattered along with the usual rounds of questions about every bit of his body and if it still hurt the same.

Thorin was a hard read most of the time– but never to me, and not about what we’d just talked about. There was no mistaking that soft look in his eye that promised more; he smiled back when I took his empty bowl with me.

I nodded to them both as I left, making an effort to keep a snarky smile back at his puppy-like expression that all but apologized for the intrusion out loud. Given his state of calm, I relished in the little signs he gave that he was feeling better in more ways than one.

I’m not a long-time friend of his by any stretch; our time together so far has been but a blink in the span of his life… but I’m so proud of him. And truthfully, I’d follow him anywhere.

reblog to send your mutuals a hug. maybe just the thought is enough to cheer them up 🥺

The inspiration for me to write is stronger than ever. I'm going to finally bring my fanfic drafts to life, and make my own dream library!

The new, updated version of my Dream Library print is available here with 3 background colour options!

Which would you most want? I would personally love to read the potentially award winning book that I occasionally have vague ideas about writing..

@officialtolkiensecretsanta gift exhange >> for [giftee]

He is bold, more bold than many deem; for in these days men  are slow to believe that a captain can be wise and learned in the  scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and yet a man of hardihood and swift  judgement in the field. But such is Faramir.

✨MASTERLIST ✨

Feel like jumping onboard to a high-stakes, cyber-synthwave hacker mystery in the stars? Or do you wanna cozy up and tuck into an adventure tale from the back of a trusty horse- with swords and magic on your side?... Just want to deep dive into headcanons from your favorite worlds?? I'm sure there's something for you here!

My plans currently sit within 4 main storylines in my favorite fandoms, though there will be one shots and headcanons welcome for any and all of these. I'm also not limited to the fanbases I'm currently writing for... There's plenty more I'd love to dabble in. Let's see where the writing adventure takes us, shall we?

Take a peek at my stories to come, or send me your burning questions about the fandoms below... I'm always up for a chat!

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Stay a while and read on, friends~

A Stroke of Luck: The Witcher AU

Art Credit: Pinterest

What if the Butcher of Blaviken had a stroke of good luck for once- or if fate can let him have it, twice? Let him catch his breath in the form of an un-problematic woman: one without decades of emotional baggage and mutagen-festered turmoil wrenching into his love life… A lass graced with charm and humour in droves... but with a soulful, caring spirit unlike any he'd ever met.

There's no magic to be seen in her- but instead a crafty skill set and sound mind has kept her alive, only with a gentle touch in a cruel world. He can hardly believe the reprieve he's found in this unsuspecting friend- an herbalist with a listening ear for a man who’s heard and seen it all. What if Geralt of Rivia just had something nice for once... and that made all the difference in the hellscape of monsters that is the life of a Witcher?

Wouldn’t that be a welcome change of pace for the body and mind and heart- to have something sweeter to look forward to at the end of a contract…

A/N: Enter Ken'elrena of Dun Dâre- or Kenna, as the kiddos call her. The nickname is much easier to slip off the tongue- Geralt’s especially. He’s finding he likes that name more and more each time they cross paths. And now? Well, now he's not so sure he ever wants to go separate ways from her for long…

ASoL: main story (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD will be weekly installments!

ASoL: Character sheet | Kenna ~ Release TBD

ASoL: Character sheet | Geralt ~ Release TBD

Teaser One-shot: ~ Behind the Bar

Teaser one-shot: ~ Night Walks and Good Talks

ASoL: The Midland Years ~ Release TBD

Dropped in Middle Earth: Sanâzyun

Art Credit: 'The Hall of the Mountain King's JeiWo on DeviantArt

Sanâzyun: perfect love

That's what Thorin began calling this woman in secret- 8 months ago. She'd wrapped up bits of leftovers for the Company in a thoughtful move, calling them all to 'pack snacks and make tracks, gents!' From that day on, something warmed him deep inside his hardy chest when she snuck his treat into his jacket pocket with utmost care. Good thing their Agreement is still on, and she doesn't suspect a thing-- yet.

To Tessa, wizards were fabled as a bunch of kids going to a school to learn their magic or a mouse dressed in a blue, starry hat making brooms come to life~ not dinner guests by the name of Gandalf. She calls this whole turn of fate 'wizard shit'; but doesn't question it and tagged along the Company of dwarves for the ride. But perhaps there's more at work -and more within her- that is magical, and only just out of reach- or just out of key. Time will tell when the dust settles after the Battle of the Five Armies to find out what brought her here, and how the quest for home didn't end when the Company arrived to Erebor.

A/N: DiME: Sanâzyun is my take on a modern lass gets dropped into Middle Earth-- but there's no craving to go back to 2022 anytime soon! While figuring out this plot twist only ever heard of in the movies, Tessa DeVon makes sense of the new life she's making with her Dwarven found family and takes each day as it comes. The clash of cultures and learning curve is both jarring and laughable; because if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Plenty of feelings, fix-its, and lore-ridden fantasy in this expansion of the Hobbit Epilogue: the beloved Durins Live AU is in full swing here!

One-Shot: Erebor is your Rome

One-Shot: Better Angels

One-Shot: A Scar and its Story

One-Shot: Want for Nothing

DiME: Sanâzyun timeline~ Release TBD

Journal Entries: song list ~ Release TBD

Journal Entries: animals ~ Release TBD

Letters from the Shire (collection) ~ Release TBD

Story One-shots (Collection): ~ Release TBD

DiME: Sanâzyun character sheet: Tessa DeVon ~ Release TBD

Fili Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Kili Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Rex: Heart of a Soldier

Art Credit: Pinterest

At the bustling center of our favorite galaxy far, far away lies Coruscant: the center of the Grand Army of the Republic's operations and home to the Jedi Temple alike, but also the start line of a greater danger than a mere galactic war between Republic and Separatist politics... The holonet brings even the most unlikely of allies together, but is also the perfect chance to be the playground of havoc and chaos if tampered by the wrong hands.

To stay a step ahead of the bad guys, a charming, tech-savvy lone wolf is called to action with a team of unlikely friends for an even more unlikely job: slice for the good guys. Until now, she's operated in a world of gray- this shift into army life is sure to test her ties and trust. Though maybe the 501st's star Captain can help her rise to the occasion... and perhaps he can learn more in turn about this big 'ole galaxy he's been exposed to. With enough encouragement, hope, and examination of the heart, Rex may even try his hand at imagining a life after the war.

A/N: This story's got it all: a beautiful, sassy, Angel-Eyes love story for our dear, darling Captain Rex (who deserves the world), a hacker race-to-the-finish saga with twists and turns across the galaxy, easter eggs for Star Wars fans young and old, and a platonic soulmate thread that spans long after the war is over.

Love Found the Captain (snippet)

Quit Flirting? Not a Chance. (one-shot)

Rex: HOAS (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD will be weekly installments!

HOAS Arc 2 | ((unnamed Book 2) ~ Release TBD

HOAS Arc 3 | ((unnamed Book 3)) ~ Release TBD

Rex: HOAS character sheet: Sawyer Lyubava ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Root ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Agent ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Bootstrap ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Query~ Release TBD

Tea Time (one-shot) ~ Release TBD

Who doesn't know how to make caf? (drabble) ~ Release TBD

501st Headcanons ~ Release TBD

HOAS Spicy Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Slicing for Nerf-Herders | resource guide

My Hero Academia: Triple Threat

One text from a former mentor led to a chain of emails...Then a four hour phone conference... Then an impromptu, three-way Zoom call between a language ambassador, an ex-hero turned teacher, and a quirk doctor who all agreed to some wild terms and set a plan in motion. Given the resources among the three, they posed an unlikely– but deadly– Triple Threat.

A/N: Three powerhouse women-- whether they believe themselves to be or not-- are teaming up for a triple threat force heading to Japan. Plenty of Marvel and DC content to bring this story to life, all in the current world of Kohei Horikoshi's My Hero Academia. The Hero Worlds of East and West collide; readers will find little bits and pieces from your heroes around the world in this fic! Plenty of Marvel and DC content help bring this story to life.

MHA: Triple Threat (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD

Prologue ~ Release TBD