Apologies for lack of updates, I have been on holiday and then had three new tattoos done yesterday. But I am back now, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.
Thorin huffed, he wasn't used to doing anything this small; he was used to hammering out metal to make swords, to make axes, so this, trying to make something as small and fiddly as courting beads was not his forte; but that didn't mean that he was going to give up. (Y/n) deserved only the best, and that was what he was going to give her.
He should have thought about this some time ago. He should have fashioned some beads as soon as he had realised that he had come to have feelings for the daughter of Grison. As soon as he had recognised that he had............well, come to love (Y/n).
(Y/n) had always been the most beautiful of dwarrowdams. And even though she was only half dwarf, she could be as stubborn and hardheaded as her father at times. As boisterous and unruly as the rest of her dwarven kin. But, her mannish side had also given her the sweetest of natures. A kind and caring side that had been experienced by anyone lucky enough to have met her, though especially by his nephews; Thorin sure that if it hadn't been for the intelligence and quick wits of (Y/n), then he might not have two nephews, or any nephews at all any more for that matter.
The blacksmith had always liked the young female. She had always been able to make him smile when no one else could. She would wave and give him the biggest, brightest grin as she, Kili and Fili would make their way through the town after their latest adventure, for their next telling off from Dis, Grison and Reya. Her little gestures making everything seem right with the world. And all the times that she would bring him some of her mother's food when he was too busy working to remember he hadn't eaten; sitting with him as he ate, asking him questions about anything she could think of, had given him a real fondness for the little female. But as she had grown, as she had blossomed and become a woman, at least in the eyes of the men that were in the town, Thorin had realised that there was something more than a fondness that he now felt for her. That he was becoming jealous of not only his nephews, but anyone, dwarf or man, that was able to spend time with her. For as Dwalin had noted, (Y/n) was only young in the eyes of dwarves, a dwarrowdam that was many years the junior of even in nephews. But, as far as the sons of man were concerned, (Y/n) was more than an age to court. More than an age to be taken as a bride, and Thorin hated the idea that one of these men might possibly steal her away from him. Some unworthy male might take the beautiful half-dwarf from her father's kin. So, he knew that he had to act, that in truth he should have done something before now. He should have been to her mother and spoken to her. He should have spoken to (Y/n) and told her how he felt. But once these beads had been fashioned. Once he had something that he could present to her, he would not hold back again. For even if he never was able to reclaim Erebor from the dragon; even if he were destined to spend the rest of his days as nothing more than a simple blacksmith, he knew that he wanted (Y/n) to be his queen.
>>-------------------------------<<
(Y/n) made her way as quickly as she could through the darkening streets of the town. The large bowl of thick rabbit and potato stew sitting comfortably in her basket, as she almost skipped over the cobblestones. The steam from the dish filling the air with an odour that made her think back to all the times she had brought Thorin her mother's food as she had grown. All the times that Reya would realise that the blacksmith was not in the tavern with the others and had probably once again got lost in his thoughts or his work and would send her on this little errand.
In truth, it had always been one of her favourite things to do, the young dwarrowdam sometimes even finding herself hoping that Thorin wouldn't come into the inn so that she would be able to just spend time on her own with the blacksmith. Even from being the tiniest of things, she had had a soft spot from the often grumpy Thorin. He had always had a sadness in his eyes that she hated, that she had determined to banish if she could. (Y/n) always smiling and waving at the blacksmith; always sitting with him when she would bring him food, enquiring about the life of her father's people, about the Mountain and the dragon that had chased them away from their home.
To begin with, her feelings had been a sort of..........fondness for the dwarf that sometimes seemed to isolate himself from the others. Fondness for her father's old friend. But, as she had grown, and become a woman in the eyes of many in the town, she had realised that it was no mere fondness that she felt for the beautiful blacksmith. Not just simple affection, but love. Love that she so wanted him to know about. Love that she wanted to share and express to Thorin.
Some nights, as she had looked out of her window and up to the sky and thought about asking Thorin if she could court him. Wondered whether such a thing might embarrass the blacksmith and shock her father's people. (Y/n) sure that it would cause quite a stir. The young dwarrowdam still wishing though, that she could just throw caution to the wind and place the beads that her mother had taken from her hair at the death of her father and given to (Y/n) in hopes that if she were ever to bare sons of her own, she would be able to pass them on to them. That in the future, they would be able to be worn by some other lucky woman, into Thorin's thick locks and claim her blacksmith as her own. But as it was..................
Soon she found herself at the door to Thorin's shop, her heart racing as she raised her hand to knock. (Y/n) doing her best not to laugh as she heard a few rather terse words in khuzdul be muttered loudly from the other side of the wooden ingress, before it flew open. Her smile growing as Thorin stood before her, wide eyed. Her name leaving his lips in such a way, that she couldn't help but want to kiss him.