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Food, Glorious Food.
Bonjour mes petits pétales!
Ok, so this is my first fan fiction that I've ever published! Please give me feedback, I really need the help! 😂🤭
Bit of a pre warning:
(I’m a bit of a history nerd) A Pavise is a large rectangular shield that would have covered the entire body, just in case you didn't know :)
Much love!
(ﾉﾟοﾟ)ﾉﾐ★゜・。。・゜゜・
The silence resonating amongst the prison of Mirkwood was chilling. Although this was somewhat an improvement for the residents. Some floors above, the white-haired elves tilted their heads and looked inquisitively from one another to establish why the dwarves had ceased their droning complaints, which before now were so loud and irritating they could have easily woken a Balrog from its slumber.
Now, you had been travelling with the dwarves for quite some time after they had accepted you with relative ease, all thanks to Gandalf’s pre-warning. A prophecy had been passed straight from Galadriel to the wizard himself when he had been summoned to Lothlórien with an urgent invite.
The prophecy stated that a strange woman would be found in Middle Earth and was to aid Thorin Oakenshield in his quest to regain the dwarves’ homeland. Gandalf had taken you to one side after the trouble of finding you, explaining how the dwarves could not know how it had been the elves to deliver the prophecy, despite you not really listening; it did not help that you were extremely cold and frightened, as, I think we can all agree, being transported midway through throwing an empty wine bottle at your god-awfully loud French roommate, whilst in your short Assassin’s Creed pyjamas was not the most ideal moment to be taken from.
Anyway, that had been months previous to now. The morning before the silence fell had begun like any other… stuck with a load of dwarves, in a prison cell, in a cave that looked like a big tree.
“No, no, no! But that’s not how names work!”
Thorin scrutinised the girl through tense, tired eyes and huffed out a response,
“Well, that is how my name works”.
“That’s not an answer. You are the line of DURIN, yes?”
Thorin leaned his cranium against the jagged wall behind him and closed his eyes. To his chagrin, the girl continued.
“I mean how do they even know it was a bit of oak, anyway? You were in the middle of a bloody battle, not a nature walk, it could’ve been, Christ I don’t know, birch! Thorin Birchshield! Doesn’t really have the same ring, does it?”
“(Y/N)…”
“If we’re completely honest, Durin does kind of sound better than Oakenshield. More regal.”
“(Y/N)-“
“But then Dis married another man so why is Kili and Fili Durin, because surely the line of Durin is your ancestors, not Dis’ husband's. Could Fili become Fili Pine-Pavise? Nah, that seriously doesn’t sound-“
“FOR MAHAL’S SAKE (Y/N)! WILL YOU SHUT YOUR GOB, OR GOD HELP ME, I WILL CHARGE THROUGH THESE BARS AND DO IT MYSELF!”
The rest of the dwarves were immensely glad for Dwalin’s roar because, let’s be real, (Y/N) could go on chattering to herself like a babbie rook for quite some time.
The (Y/HC) haired girl grunted and collapsed to the floor with the grace of a ballerina (with a broken foot, although in irritation her movement into sitting crosslegged seemed far more elegant).
She sat in that position for a good while, simply fiddling with the edges of her jacket. A slight crinkle made the woman’s hand pause in its ministrations. She fingered over the outline of the recognisable packet and allowed a Cheshire Cat grin to spread across her face.
Yanking the packet out of her inner pocket, she squealed when she indeed proved herself right and laid her eyes upon the glorious red packaging, the wonderful white letters imprinted over the wave of multicoloured ovals.
A sort of… gleam of obsession flowed its way across her eyes. She could fondly remember the days of how she would tackle Antoine to the ground before shoving one or two up his nose for bringing home another woman without informing his roommate. The wine bottle was the final straw, I mean the girl wasn’t that aggressive (only mildly). Besides, having to walk out of your room to find a half-naked woman making pancakes would get old after the first few times, no matter how delicious the pancakes were. Giggling to herself, she chanted under her breath, something sounding like “taste, taste, taste the rainbow”. It was a wonder she hadn’t fallen down with Bilbo in the goblin cavern, but maybe that’s just what Tumblr is doing to kids nowadays… moving on.
“What’s that you got there, Lass?” The lively voice of Bofur broke her train of thought.
“Hm? Oh! These, dear child, are the finest sweets in all of creation!”
The two’s chatter had gained the attention of a few of the other dwarves, the rest following after Fili and Kili’s “ooh”s and “aah”s. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the two ‘young’ dwarves and popped a couple of brightly coloured circles into her hand before passing them through the bars into Bofur’s cell.
He chewed. And chewed. And chewed. Swiftly, Bofur jumped up with a caw of excitement and laughed.
“Lass you’ve got to share those! Boys, why they’re the most incredible things I’ve ever tasted!”
A final wave of commands and pleads washed its way over the woman, who giggled at their enthusiasm and happily handed the bag around to her new (adopted?) family.
That was until a thundering voice shouted out in disgust: “Blech! Ugh no, they’re awful! How on earth did you eat those, brother?” Bombur exclaimed. The air in the prison stilled as the dwarves paused their pestering for more of the sweets.
Well, that was a first.
And to think, to find a food Bombur didn’t like only took a strange woman falling from another world.
Indeed it was true:
Bombur couldn’t handle the rainbow.