Posts Tagged dwarves
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thorin no
In the course of a discussion with morbidyetdelightful the other day, I ended up headcanoning what all the dwarves are like to hug.
Thorin: epic, obviously, but rather nerve-wracking due to his tendency to yell at you intimidatingly just beforehand. That is probably the hilt of Orcrist poking you in the tummy. Don’t dwell on it.
Fili and Kili: SANDWICH HUGS EXTRAORDINAIRE.
Balin: Soft and cosy, with a surprising crinkling sound when you press against him and make contact with all the Werther’s Originals in his pockets. A shoulder-patter.
Dwalin: Initially hesitant, because he doesn’t want to crush you, but once he calibrates for the strength of your spine and ribcage, warm, firm and reassuring. See if you can get your head tucked in under his chin.
Oin: Does not understand you are asking for hugs. Shouts at you loudly and deafly for hitting him up for drugs. Just because he is the apothecary doesn’t mean he’s some kind of dealer.
Gloin: Gruff, brisk and beard-intensive. You may get tangled and have to be cut free.
Bifur: Very gentle and soothing; a hair-stroker. May get lost in thought and forget to disengage; will not be offended if you step back after a few minutes and move away.
Bofur: Warm, whiskery and bracing; widely considered the best spooner in the Company.
Bombur: Has some difficulty in hugging people frontally because of the swell of his belly versus the length of his arms, but the nifty thing is he can drop the loop of his beard over your head so it’s like his hair is giving you a hug too. Favours the one-armed side-hug.
Dori: In a domestic setting, Dori is difficult to hug because he’s always busy doing something for the comfort of others. You will probably need to dart in and hug him while he holds his Marigolded hands aloft trying not to drip on you. In all events, a very satisfying, slightly squashy hug, reminiscent of your childhood teddy-bear.
Nori: Wandering hands, but firm and warm.
Ori: Your personal koala.
Daw, c’mon Thorin!
thorin no
In the course of a discussion with morbidyetdelightful the other day, I ended up headcanoning what all the dwarves are like to hug.
Thorin: epic, obviously, but rather nerve-wracking due to his tendency to yell at you intimidatingly just beforehand. That is probably the hilt of Orcrist poking you in the tummy. Don’t dwell on it.
Fili and Kili: SANDWICH HUGS EXTRAORDINAIRE.
Balin: Soft and cosy, with a surprising crinkling sound when you press against him and make contact with all the Werther’s Originals in his pockets. A shoulder-patter.
Dwalin: Initially hesitant, because he doesn’t want to crush you, but once he calibrates for the strength of your spine and ribcage, warm, firm and reassuring. See if you can get your head tucked in under his chin.
Oin: Does not understand you are asking for hugs. Shouts at you loudly and deafly for hitting him up for drugs. Just because he is the apothecary doesn’t mean he’s some kind of dealer.
Gloin: Gruff, brisk and beard-intensive. You may get tangled and have to be cut free.
Bifur: Very gentle and soothing; a hair-stroker. May get lost in thought and forget to disengage; will not be offended if you step back after a few minutes and move away.
Bofur: Warm, whiskery and bracing; widely considered the best spooner in the Company.
Bombur: Has some difficulty in hugging people frontally because of the swell of his belly versus the length of his arms, but the nifty thing is he can drop the loop of his beard over your head so it’s like his hair is giving you a hug too. Favours the one-armed side-hug.
Dori: In a domestic setting, Dori is difficult to hug because he’s always busy doing something for the comfort of others. You will probably need to dart in and hug him while he holds his Marigolded hands aloft trying not to drip on you. In all events, a very satisfying, slightly squashy hug, reminiscent of your childhood teddy-bear.
Nori: Wandering hands, but firm and warm.
Ori: Your personal koala.
Daw, c’mon Thorin!
I literally just found out that my favorite uncle passed away…so it was kind of hard to finish this
Quit stabbing me in the feels dangit!
I literally just found out that my favorite uncle passed away…so it was kind of hard to finish this
Quit stabbing me in the feels dangit!
Bofur is waylaid on his way to the pub by his adoring nieces and nephews and persuaded to join his brother’s rowdy, jolly family for dinner. Bombur has more children than most people have dinner plates, and each one loves their Uncle Bofur something fierce. A pre-The Hobbit ficlet featuring Bofur, Bombur and Bifur’s family.
Bofur shifted his heavy mattock on his shoulder as he trudged toward home, weary feet dragging. It had been a long day in the mines. They had spent most of their time reinforcing the support beams in a tunnel that had been damaged during a recent flood, and it had been backbreaking work. Not to mention wet. He would be quite happy to go collect Bifur from his workshop at Bombur’s home and head for a good night at the pub. Seeing the bottom of at least three mugs of autumn ale would heal all of his wretched, good-for-naught muscles.
“Uncle Bofur! Uncle Bofur!”
“Unclebofurunclebofurunclebofur!”
“Nuncle Booooo!”
Well, there was a welcome surprise. He turned and was able to drop his mattock just in time to catch the blur of orange hair and green dress that leapt into his arm. One of his nieces, Ninna, threw her pudgy arms around his neck and smacked a slobbery kiss on his cheek. Her wild, untamable hair was getting in his eyes and brushing his nose, and he laughed as he reached up and pushed the frizzy, fiery locks back.
“I bet there’s a pretty girl under here somewhere,” he teased, shifting her to his hip as she giggled. When he could finally see her face, he grinned at her. “Ah, look how wrong I was, it’s a gorgeous girl!”
“Nuncle Bo, you silly,” she said as she leaned her head on his shoulder and looked up at him with soft blue eyes.
“Hey, hey!” Someone tugged hard on his clothes, and he looked down to see meaty little Jory at his hip, his chubby fingers wrapped around the dirty hem of his jacket. The boy’s blond hair was braided neatly into a tight rope and wrapped around his head once so that it resembled a crown. His round face, barely any whiskers on his chin, was imperious as he put his fists on his hips. “Mum says you’re to come to dinner.” He waggled his finger at Bofur. “And she won’t be having no for an answer or she’ll get your beard!”
Bofur smirked. “Well, that don’t leave me much choice, now does it?”
More in the link! 😀
Savin’ this for later!
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