Aidan Turner - Tumblr Posts

“getting handsy”

author’s note: hey everyone! this is my first piece, so I'm pretty stoked about it :))) just to clarify, this is a slightly different AU in which you possess the elven blades Gandalf and the gang find in the troll's cave (everything else storyline-wise is relatively the same, though). this took me two nights to write, mostly because i kept getting so excited to write it that i couldn’t sleep! it was originally supposed to be an assassin Y/N with the tagline being “getting handsy?” but that derailed as i wrote this so who knows! maybe i’ll write another with the original idea! anyways, let me know what you think! also, this was originally going to be two parts, with second being a little more smutty. let me know if y’all still want that!

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 4,039

summary: despite unwillingly joining Thorin’s company at the suggestion of Gandalf, it seems the cheeky brown-haired dwarf prince who disarmed you is slowly growing on you

content warnings: fluff, bruises, suggestive language and a little flirting, angry dwarves, mentions of a village being burnt down, honestly it’s from the lotr franchise so i’m just gonna go ahead and label it PG-13, y’all know what you’re expecting

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

It had been a long three days of traveling east, the heat and wind reminding you of simpler times when bathing was a luxury; for you see, you had been carrying precious artifacts with you in order to sell it to a buyer just past the Carrock, towards Mirkwood. While the artifacts had no real use to you, you wondered curiously of what your buyer could want with three Elven blades, and why they needed it so urgently that you haven’t even the time to wash the wind from your hair. I mean, come on: after orcs, goblins, and foul-breathed men, you were supposed to guard these swords with your life?

Truth be told, that was the way of life you had come to know for the past three years; a life of smuggling, a life of delivery, and ultimately, a lonely life. But there was no room for relationships of any kind when you were known well for your messenger capabilities. Various parties, all of devious backgrounds, would seek you out to deliver messages, goods, and once, even a prisoner. It was by their tongues that you were known well as The Untouchable, a moniker you had gained after seemingly cheating death 5 times to deliver a set of precious jewels to an Elven king. And as such, people believed you to be untouchable by even Death himself, though you wouldn’t necessarily agree. As a matter of fact, a part of you wondered if you were growing less fond of your uncommon occupation; the past three years had already worn you dull at times. But then again, you hadn’t a clue of what you’d do if it weren’t for these recent gigs.

And so you continued your passage to the east, towards the mountains and ultimately Mirkwood. The sun had set just moments ago, and you knew you had to seek shelter soon; traveling at night had become increasingly more dangerous these past few months, for reasons unknown to you. And while you weren’t excited to make camp in the Trollshaws, it seemed safer than continuing along the East-West Road into the murky night.

It didn’t take long for you to set up camp, keeping yourself inside the hollow of an old tree to avoid thieves in the night from finding you and trying to covet what isn’t even yours. These swords had been more trouble than they were worth during your journey. You couldn’t tell what was so special about them, besides the fact that they were oddly light to hold, and incredibly stronger than you first had thought, using one of them to chop up firewood a few nights ago. Night set in, and your thoughts began to slow as sleep overcame your tired body.

You were suddenly stirred from your sleep as you heard a group of shouts coming from the edge of the woods. Your head snapped up, your body jolted awake despite the fatigue of your trek, and your hand carefully hovered over one of the Elven blades as you listened closely, discerning whether or not it was a threat to you. What time was it? The moon still slept in the sky and yet it seemed a lighter blue than when you had first fallen asleep in your oaken hideout. Was it soon to be morning? You crept carefully closer in the direction of the voices, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge as you tried to clear your mind and even your breaths, uneven from your rather rude awakening.

Creeping ever closer, you could finally see between thick-leaved trees that some mountain trolls had made camp, the screaming coming from their assumed dinner as your gaze shifted to the fourteen men tied up in short brown sacks, the sacks comically tied around their necks, giving them only their voices. Dwarves, you could tell, mostly from the impeccably-groomed beards but also from their sheer temperament. It seemed an even-smaller man (Perhaps a hobbit? But what would he be doing so far from the Shire?) was standing in his sack, desperately trying to convince the trolls not to eat them. You sighed to yourself, glad that the screaming hadn't proven to be a threat to you, but rather to their own misfortune.

A part of you wondered if you should intervene, though you weren't entirely sure what you could do; you were more adept at preventing your own death, not so much at saving others from it. But still unsure, you chose to at least see if anything would happen; after all, daylight would soon be upon you all. Perhaps if you could cut a tree down as a distraction? But there was no telling how long that would take...

Unbeknownst to you, amidst all of the yelling, a certain white-bearded dwarf had caught his eyes to you, squinting to see if you were friend or foe (Not that it mattered, considering they were about to die).

Soon, just as you had figured there was nothing you could do, especially against three mountain trolls, a giant cracking could be heard, and the troll's camp was flooded with the sun's early morning light. The trolls quickly turned to stone, and cheers were heard as the dwarves began helping each other out of their bindings. Chatter was heard amongst themselves, and a small breath of relief slipped past your lips. Making out the silhouette, you quickly recognized who stood atop the cracked stone, and knew you'd have to slip away soon lest you be caught.

"Masters, I believe we're still not alone," the white-haired dwarf spoke, and you muttered a swear under your breath. It was time to go.

"I believe you're right, Master Balin. Who are you, hiding in the trees?" The grey wizard called out, stepping closer and bringing the dwarves' attention with him. Fuck. You'd been found, and the risk of being chased if you ran worried you more than revealing yourself. And so, with careful steps and outstretched arms, you approached from behind the tree.

"Gandalf," you smiled. "It's been some time, old friend. Miss me much?"

The smallest man, who you now knew to be a hobbit from his feet, gave the wizard a perplexed look. "I'm sorry, you know this person?"

The wizard let out a wise chuckle. "Why yes, Master Baggins, this is the Untouchable Y/N. And what are you doing spying on our company?" He lit his pipe, smiling.

"Yes, I'd like to ask the same," another dwarf spoke, this time coming from the stoic one with gorgeous black hair. "I hear tales of your smuggling and thievery, so what brings you right to us?"

You cast a skeptical look to the black-haired dwarf, not liking his distrustful glare. "I'm no thief, just a messenger. My business is not with you. I merely worried for your safety."

"Worried? Only to watch us be eaten?" The white-haired dwarf, who you now knew was Balin, seemed to also be skeptical of you, but his gaze was less hateful than that of his companion.

"Now, now, let's settle down. Y/N is no threat to you all, that I can assure you." Gandalf puffed his pipe, pointing it at you. "They're the reason we have Master Baggins here with us, after all."

"I'm sorry, uh, what now?" The hobbit cast his gaze to you, still perplexed. "They did what?"

"I had asked them to accompany us as our burglar first, but they turned me down." The wizard drew another breath from his pipe.

You sighed, rolling your eyes at the old sorcerer. "I'm a messenger, not a thief. As stated before," you cast a glare at the black-hair dwarf. "I have business elsewhere."

The black-haired dwarf turned his glare to Gandalf now. "You told this human of our quest?"

A musing 'hm' left the grey man's lips. "Master Thorin, I can promise you that your secret is safe with Y/N. They're not the kind to tell their friends."

You scoffed. "If I had friends to speak of, no thanks to you, old man." You crossed your arms, looking to Thorin. "And since I have to keep repeating myself, I'm already busy. I've no time for meddling with dwarves and dragons, not to mention everything in between."

"And what do you have time for, Y/N?" Gandalf mused.

Meanwhile, Thorin had trudged off, gathering his men and their belongings once more since being sacked.

You sighed, showing your back. "I've to deliver these blades to a buyer near Mirkwood. No idea who it is, though; only a letter telling me where to find the blades and where to bring them." What you didn't mention was that you had found them in a troll-hoard, next to a pile of skeletons. You decided that was all the information you would give the clever wizard, not wanting to disclose all of your secrets to people who already didn't seem too keen to be near you.

"Hm, may I see them?" He asked gingerly, raising a brow at you. It seemed like always, Gandalf was curious of what you were up to. And not wanting to raise any unnecessary suspicion, you obliged.

You handed him the two swords off of your back, not disclosing that the third blade, a dagger, lay hidden underneath your clothes in your chest. Better safe than sorry when you're with… troublesome company.

Unsheathing each blade, Gandalf drew in a breath. "My dear Y/N, do you have any idea what these are?" He showed the blade's detail to you, just as Thorin began to approach you two. "These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age."

Upon hearing this, Thorin scoffed, to which the wizard was quick to cut him off. "You could not wish for a finer blade!" His scowl softened back as he turned to you again. "Here, keep them safe."

You nodded, taking back the blades as you threw them back on your back; a part of you cursed yourself for not knowing their true power. Nothing was stopping you from keeping one to yourself…

Thorin looked to Gandalf, beckoning him away. "Come, we must make use of the daylight; we haven't much time to waste." The wizard looked at you, and all you could see were the gears turning in his head.

"Y/N, join us on our journey," he offered, much to Thorin's disgust.

"Gandalf, I already told you I'm-"

"Busy, yes. But we're both heading the same direction, are we not?" He looked at you and Thorin, who looked you up and down before sighing.

"Don't slow us down." He spoke before you could even get a word in. "Kíli, take their weapons," he beckoned a dark-brown-haired dwarf over, one that bore a little resemblance to him, much to your dismay.

“Excuse me? What for?” You spoke up, offended by the notion. Thorin simply looked you up and down, speaking with disgust.

“If you travel with us, you do it without that Elven filth on you.”

“Master Thorin, need I remind you-“ Gandalf tried to intercept, but was cut off.

“They may be fine blades, that I trust. What I don’t trust is a stranger joining us with such fine weapons. You’ll get them back once we part.” Thorin clarified, motioning to the brown-haired dwarf once again. “Kíli, their weapons.”

You sighed after seeing Gandalf’s defeated gaze. Fine, there was nothing to be done. Of course, you could always travel alone; you were good at taking care of yourself already on such travels, but the chance of safer lodging with Gandalf persuaded you to stay. Kíli approached you, offering a nod of acknowledgment before removing the swords on your back. You held your arms out as he patted your sleeves, moving up until he reached the third blade. Well, the secret was out. Great.

He struggled to remove the blade without undoing part of your tunic, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes, but you maintained a slight smile. “Getting handsy, are we?” You looked down at the dwarf, who grew red at your comment, clearing his throat.

“I’m usually more polite,” he chirped back, much to your surprise.

“By all means, take your time. I’m sure Thorin will appreciate it,” you retorted sarcastically. After a few more pats, Kíli cleared his throat once more, handing the two swords to Balin to carry, and pocketing the dagger at his side. Greedy man.

But finally, you were off, stuck to tag along for sake of convenience versus pleasure.

Screw safety! Joining them had proven more stress than it was worth as you had been chased down by wargs and orcs and narrowly missed death yet again after thinking you’d be trapped in a cave! And all the while, you had still been denied your weapons, with Kíli and Balin instructed to keep them from you; at this point, it felt out of spite. You assumed your only luck came from Gandalf knowing the way to Rivendell, much to Thorin’s chagrin. But even among your own frustrations, you could not deny the beauty of such a city. It was practically glowing and beaming with light, as was the nature of Elves, and Lord Elrond’s hospitality brought relief to your aching bones. A meal! A warm bed! And most importantly, a bath!

However, your comrades (if you could even call the strangers that) seemed less than impressed with the feast offered to you all. Dwalin and Oín seemed the most disgusted by the array of leafy greens and hearty vegetables, but your hunger quickly guided your tongue in chiding them.

“Oh, hush! Don’t tell me you’d rather starve?” You rolled your eyes, earning a look from the two in question. Oín rolled his own eyes back at you, refusing to address your retort.

“Have they got any chips?” He asked, looking between Bofur and Dwalin again. You had learned some of their names from Thorin’s commanding shouts as you all had outran the orcs, and it was making your trip a little less confusing at the very least.

After a bit of eating, you noticed Kíli winking at one of the Elves around you. He seemed cheekier than he had been when he had disarmed you, and you were curious if this was the real him. A thief and a flirt.

“I can’t say I fancy elf maids myself,” he said to his companions. “Too thin. They’re all high cheekbones and creamy skin. Not enough facial hair for me. Although, that one there’s not bad.”

You almost had the urge to call him out, but were beaten to the punch by Dwalin, who made it known that the Elf in question was no woman, but a man. You choked back a chortle as the table erupted into laughter, meanwhile Kíli sat in his awkward shame, admitting the humor of the situation. You cleared your throat, adding in a chuckle.

“Well don’t be ashamed! Go on then, don’t be shy. Tell us about his ‘creamy skin’, eh?” You laughed, and Kíli shot you a small smirk, waving a hand to dismiss your comment.

You had long finished your meal, the group beginning to divide into smaller ones as the men decided whether to go to their rooms or wander about. Thorin and Gandalf were still busy with Lord Elrond, and by the looks of it, you figured you had enough time to bathe. You left the dining hall (though the space was so open, you were unsure if ‘hall’ was even the right word to use) to hunt down your room, hoping to find a towel of some sort.

Now, while you knew you were sharing a room, you had forgotten your bunkmates, it seems. Yes, you remembered that Bilbo and the blonder dwarf brother were sharing your quarters, but you were caught off guard to open the door and see Kíli on his side in bed, facing away from you. He hadn’t stirred when you opened the door, and so you wondered if he was asleep.

Now’s the chance, you thought as you crept closer to his sleeping form. You had been wondering how you’d get your blades back, and now seemed as good as any opportunity to try. And so you stepped closer as quietly as you could until you were leaning over his sleeping form; his eyes were closed, so you were assured that he was sleeping. With ginger hands, you delicately reached for the hilt of the blade, which was tucked into the belt of his tunic. Carefully, you held your breath as you raised his belt to try and free your blade and spring it free…

“And I’m the handsy one?” His eyes shot open and you jumped back, eyes wide with shock as you realized he had been awake the entire time. He sat up, chuckling with a cheeky smirk as he looked at your figure in the dimly-lit room. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I swear.”

You bit your tongue, slightly angry. “Don’t accuse me of trying to bed you, I merely want what’s mine.” You spoke curtly, trying to hide the venom and embarrassment of being caught.

“Oh? But I thought this was someone else’s blade? Didn’t you say you were just doing a delivery? Just a messenger?” He taunted, scratching the stubble on his chin. A part of you didn’t want to admit it, but now that you were much closer and actually paying attention, he was quite handsome. A bit scruff, but otherwise beautiful. You hated that you thought of him like that, especially right now as he was teasing you.

“Which means that my job is to hold on to such deliveries, not you. Just give it back and spare me your mockery.” You crossed your arms, frustrated.

“I mean not to mock you,” He shook his head, now standing up. “But my uncle would have my backside if I returned your effects, I’m afraid.”

You groaned, wanting to escape the presence of this rather handsome-but-annoying dwarf. “Fine. I’m leaving.” You stepped away, rummaging through the storage closet in the room as you grabbed a towel before leaving, heading for the baths.

You stormed out of your shared room and into the bathhouse, thanking some unknown entity that they were empty and steaming. You sighed as you set your things down nearby, careful of your bruises as you undressed yourself and heaving a sigh of frustration as you did so. Gods, the nerve of that dwarf! Pretending to be asleep, keeping what was yours (even though it wasn’t) and having the gall to smirk about the whole thing?! It was easier (and much more therapeutic) to feel angry about it all instead of actually admitting your embarrassment.

And so, with flushed ears and a warmer temper, you stepped into the warm and misty waters of the bathhouse, a groan slipping past your lips as your body throbbed before being soothed by the healing waters. You drew in a deep breath through your nose, a pleasant smile gracing your lips as the scent of rosemary and mint met your nostrils. Finally, you could wash off the journey and hopefully your frustration as well. You sighed, happy to finally have one decent night of rest and relief; you made a mental note to thank Gandalf later, despite the rough journey that got you here.

Time passed and you weren’t entirely sure how long you had been here, though the urge to sink further into the pool crossed your mind more than once. How long had it been, an hour? Maybe more? You figured you were fine to soak more if your group was still staying the night, but your mind replayed the question more, making you worried. What if everyone left later? In any case, you deemed it best to hurry up, grateful for the time you had already spent in the steamy bathhouse. Letting your hair down, you sunk lower into the water, as you had decided you would wash your hair last. You soaked your head, running your fingers through your scalp as you massaged the wind and rain and dirt from your locks, humming in satisfaction of the feeling it gave you.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps approaching; ducking your body into the water until nothing but your head remained above, you squinted your eyes towards the doorway, trying to peer through the steam to discern your approaching company. And to your surprise, the same cheeky dwarf from earlier emerged through the steam, looking around until his eyes caught yours; quickly realizing you were bathing, his eyes widened and he quickly turned around, offering you some privacy.

“Sorry!” He said, clearing his throat. “I was asked to come find you, it seems that Elf Lord will help us read our map.”

You held in a smirk of your own at his embarrassed tone, feeling a small sort of revenge from it. “And am I needed to attend?”

He nodded, “Uncle told me that Gandalf had asked you to be there. That’s all I know.”

“Uncle?” You questioned. “Thorin, I presume?”

He nodded again; you had guessed that earlier based on his reaction to trying to take back your blade.

You sighed. “Well, alright. I suppose if he asked for me…” You stood up, your back facing him as you worried he would try to peek.

“Have you been friends long? You and Gandalf, I mean.” His question came after he could hear you dressing yourself, catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to be curious, perhaps you had judged him wrongly earlier. You chuckled as memories came back to you.

“Yes, for a few years now. He met me before I was a messenger, and is the reason I went down this path. Though I wouldn’t say his presence is always welcoming; if there’s one thing that old wizard summons, it’s trouble. He’s reckless.” Though your tone was firm, you couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips.

Gandalf had met you before you started any of your adventures, finding you in your hometown and setting you on the path of a delivery-man after your village had been burned to the ground.

“I see,” he spoke, nodding with a slight hum as you finished dressing yourself. “You sound like my mother.”

“I’m sorry?” You raised a brow.

“My mother says the same thing about me; that I’m reckless, and stir up too much trouble.” He chuckled to himself, caught wistfully in his own memory.

You finished getting dressed, your hand touching his shoulder to acknowledge him as you stood behind him. He flinched only slightly, not expecting the touch as he turned and faced you, looking to your eyes. “Oh? Well, I can’t say I wouldn’t disagree, but are you?” You asked.

“Nah,” He shook his head with a small smile, his eyes softening as he looked up at you. For a moment, your cheeks flushed as his stare continued for a moment of silence. “Listen, about earlier, I-“

“It’s fine, I’m the one who should apologize,” You cut him off. “Besides, I’d rather save the trouble of fighting a dwarf over a sword that isn’t mine.”

He smiled, “I must say, while I have no inclination to fight you either, I enjoyed your adventurous efforts earlier.”

You flushed again, thankful the steam hid the true details of both of you. Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “I suppose you’re to lead me to Gandalf?”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “Yes, alright. They’re waiting on us anyways… not that I exactly mind keeping them waiting.” He had muttered the last part under his breath but your keen ears caught it. Smiling to yourself, you tucked some loose hair away as you walked through the Elven halls. All of your frustration from earlier had subsided for a moment, though truthfully it shouldn’t have been directed at Kíli if at all; his uncle was definitely higher on your blacklist.

“Perhaps I don’t mind either,” you whispered under your breath. For however short or long your journey with this man would be, a part of you was interested to see how much you’d enjoy it.

proofread by @v1olentdelights <3

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