Name of Story: A Touch of Magic
Rating (If Applicable): M/NC-17
Description (Authors): Bofur had to make two rounds of the tent before everything was finally, finally settled to Bella’s satisfaction, and she sulked and grumbled yet as he sank down into a chair, exhausted.
“Why are we doing this again?” Bella complained, not for the first time. She had discovered that Bofur had forgotten all of her favourite handkerchiefs two hours into the expedition setting out of Erebor, and had been in a foul mood ever since.
“The King called a muster-“
“No,” Bella interrupted, with a scowl, “Why are we involved?”
“Because,” Bofur began, then he hesitated, playing along with Bella’s mood, tugging at his beard, and conceding, “Y’know, I’ve quite forgotten.”
Now the other day I reviewed manic_intent’s (Not Quite) Prince Charming story and because I loved it so much, I decided to check out their other fics and stumbled across this masterpiece too.
Manic_Intent has a seriously good knack for good plot ideas, one’s I’ve never come across in ANY fandom that I read, so this time I was pulled into a world where Hobbits were just more than simple beings. They had a knack with their Anchors and had a good relationship with the Dwarrow’s, bringing out the best of their ability with their own magic.
It’s set after Erebor and during the Battle of Azanulbizar, except this time it sways a little in the Dwarrow’s favour. There were many emotional rides, from full out laughter to outraged sadness.
So go check it, give it a read and send some love!
The dwarves claim that Mahal their Maker shaped them first, and Yavanna, Mahal’s wife, created the hobbits after, as spirit to their flesh of stone and clay. The hobbits say that Yavanna Kementári wove the hobbits out of the half-shadows between the Two Trees, to tend to Telperion and sing Laurelin to sleep, and the dwarves came only after: when Mahal had seen what his wife had wrought and had felt a craftsman’s jealous curiosity.
Whichever race speaks true matters little: the consequence remains the same – when Ilúvatar rebuked Mahal for creating the unfinished Seven Fathers of the Dwarves, it was Yavanna who bound the spirits of her own creations to her husband’s, to form between both races an unbreakable interlinking. For there is no true life without spirit, and no true living without flesh.
With time, the symbiosis between the races grew less desperate. The dwarves grew into sturdy folk, full of a measured breed of energy that was all their own, though they have no innate penchant for magic. The hobbits remained a half-spirit folk, part-shaped, fleeting between Middle Earth and a realm they’ll not speak of, even to the dwarves. But sometimes a hobbit will still bind himself or herself a dwarf’s soul, oft for reasons he or she will smile of and refuse to explain, and these dwarves, the Blessed, are bound always for greater deeds.