Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit or any of J. R. R Tolkien's works. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: This is my fourth time dipping my toes into Tolkien's Hobbit/LOTR's universe, so I hugely appreciate any and all feedback/constructive criticism you have to offer. The pairing in this fic is Dwori (Dwalin/Ori) and a tiny bit of Bagginshield if you squint.

Warnings: Contains spoilers for 'The Hobbit' and 'The Desolation of Smaug.' Basically follows the canon events of the first movie up until the Carrock, where instead of Dori losing grip on Gandalf staff, it is Gandalf (meaning the staff falls with Dori and Ori). Expect canon appropriate violence, mature language, minor mention of body image issues, age difference, size difference, characters being adorable little shits, dwarvish courting rituals, magical shenanigans, Gandalf's staff is a troll, semi-established dwori relationship, first time, slash and – oh yeah – smut.

Manflesh

Chapter One

He wasn't sure which of them looked more surprised when the staff slipped out of the wizard's fingers, Dori or Gandalf himself. Personally he'd been too busy memorizing the pattern of Dori's socks - anything to distract himself from the way his feet were dangling, kicking out into nothingness.

His fingers were slipping.

He hoped the others were alright, that Dwalin would-

He managed to get a glimpse of a weather-beaten face and startled eyes before they fell out of view. Caught off guard when he realized that the light from the burning tree was reflecting queerly, getting caught in the blue of the wizard's eyes and warping the background until he could actually see Dwalin struggling to pull himself up. See Nori fighting to get Oin and Gloin off a splintering branch just before it-

But before he could really internalize it, before he could puzzle it out and remind himself that, yes, this was a wizard he was trying to attach sense to, they were already falling.

Dori yelled, a blurb of sound that could have been his name when his older brother's foot slipped from his hand. The loss sent him tumbling – free-falling through the dark as the wind buffeted them. The rush of air was dead cold and terrifying as they quickly out-paced ember and dust. The battle and burning suddenly far above them, muted by the whistling wind as silence gripped them.

He cried out when something hit his chin, falling with them. He grasped it instinctively – like it was the sole anchor floating in a vast sea - holding it tight to his chest as the ground rushed to meet them.

Gandalf's staff!

Both he and Dori had their eyes tightly closed when the flash of light issued from the crystal and passed into him. But for those who might have been watching, including all manner of living and breathing things, it soaked into his skin with a soft glow of silver-white. Lighting up the dark the same moment they hit something feathery and alive and then – quite suddenly - they were soaring.

The eagle that caught them, however, put the odd occurrence out of her mind almost immediately. After all, the affairs of dwarves were of little concern to her. She had a clutch of her own and a nest of younglings to feed. Her mate was a handsome thing and a good provider - bless his tail feathers. But nest-guarding was not his strong-suit.

Besides, for such small things, the stone-dwellers were actually surprisingly heavy.

He felt a bit odd by the time the Carrock was in their sights. But there wasn't much time to dwell on it considering that before he could fully appreciate the view, they were already circling in for a landing.

He felt strangely numb when they scrambled off the back of the giant eagle, stumbling when his boots met solid rock, limbs tingly and sore. It was almost as though every bone in his body had somehow fallen dead asleep. Refusing to wake even when he hopped about, desperate for the pins and needles to subside.

He gritted his teeth when Dori patted his back reassuringly, static lancing up his sides as he wobbled out of reach. His brother didn't notice, too busy calling to the others as the other eagles soared high above them – waiting for their turn to land as Gandalf grabbed his staff and raced to Thorin's side.

Personally he thought it was more because he'd nearly died about thirty-three times since breakfast and he'd left his heart halfway down a cliff-face than anything – well - else.

In his defense, it had been quite the evening after all.

Thorin had only just embraced Bilbo, recognizing him for his bravery when they saw it. He hadn't been able to hold back his gasp. Erebor was just as beautiful as his brothers had described, a singular lonely peak that rose above a vast valley of green.

Home. That was Dori had called it. Home.

He hadn't been able to get enough of it, see enough of it. He wished he had about five more eyes as he squinted with the same eagerness that'd led him to accept Balin's offer that day in his study. Flushing with embarrassment as his mentor had fixed him with a knowing grin, well used to his stuttering as he brought out the contract with a flourish.

The silence from the dwarves around him was poignant – almost ardent in its longing. It pulled at his bones. Digging deep into the very heart of him as something he'd never really noticed he was missing, slotted neatly into place.

He understood now.

Erebor was a part of them.

Belonged to them.

Just as surely as they belonged to its ageless rocky depths and ancient soil.

It was a partnership forged by Mahal himself.

One to be respected just as much as it was feared.

For, if the worst indeed came to pass, it seemed abundantly clear that Mahal would not take their failure lightly.

The mountain was highlighted by an ancient, rolling trail of rock and stone. It was the same trail that hundreds of dwarrow would have traveled daily. Bustling back and forth from the city of Dale for trade, but for some rather bothersome reason, the entire peak was fading in and out of focus.

Strange. Why would-

Heat flushed through him, skin prickling as he wavered. His boots felt unsteady. Or perhaps it was the rock itself? Were they all in danger? Perhaps the entire cliff was going to come down around them? With the night they'd just had, he figured it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.

But still, even that didn't seem right.

Something was wrong – different – twisting.

He could feel it.

Inside.

He blinked muzzily, staring down at his hands as something inside cracked, popping and twisting as he watched. He held his right hand up to his face, watching with a detached sort of interest as the fingers started lengthening, thinning out at the tips and knuckles as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

Oh, oh…

A spit of dark hair fluttered across the edge of his vision, illusive when he squinted, trying to put a face to it. "…Ori? You alright?"

The voice permeated through the fog, just over his left shoulder. He shook himself, brain feeling as though it were trying to slog through a vat of pudding before recognition finally dawned. Kili.

"Thorin! Gandalf!? Something's wrong with Ori!"

His collar tightened, almost choking as he started pulling on it, fighting for breath as someone said something. He felt constricted; like he'd grown too large for his skin and his body was trying it's best to burst clear out.

Dori was there in an instant. "Ori? What is it? You feeling sick? Was it the heights? Oh dear, I knew-"

He opened his mouth to say something only nothing came out. He'd forgotten the words or perhaps even how to speak as his back cracked - lengthening. The feeling was similar to a tired stretch after a long day hunched over his writing table. Only it didn't stop. It just kept pulling and stretching and-

"What the-"

He stumbled back into Dori's grip, falling into his brother's chest like he'd done so often as a dwarfling, tripping over his own feet and burying himself into his brother's layers for comfort. He inhaled shakily, drawing in his brother's scent, but it gave him no pleasure – no sense of protection or safety. It was a smell that had never failed to calm him. One he knew above all others. But this time it did nothing – it meant nothing.

"Ori?!"

Kili and Fili parted like molten gold around a smithing hammer as Dwalin said something. He looked up, catching his eye as the taller dwarf approached, pushing his way through the others, fierce and ready to do battle. There was concern there, in the back of his gaze – uncertainty and worry and he felt a stab of guilt at being the cause of it.

He only had the wits left to smile, hoping it would be enough to calm him. To assure the warrior that – yes – he was fine and that – no – he didn't need a lie down and-

He blinked, finding himself in Dori's arms, looking up blurrily as Thorin, Gandalf and Dwalin's faces swirled around in the air above his head as a sudden, all-encompassing pressure seemed to squeeze the very breath from him.

There was a hand on his face, rough-edged with warriors' callouses and gentle comfort before it was wrenched away just as quickly. He cracked a lid just in time to catch a glimpse of Gandalf reaching forward. A strange rumbling language rippled – spilling through the air above their heads as Bilbo said something, little voice all but trembling with concern as the world blackened – dimming like a guttered candle – just enough to blind them all when the tip of Gandalf's staff flickered into the half-dark.

His fingers dug into the sleeve of Dori's coat, gasping and desperate as he tried to suck air back into shell-shocked lungs.

He couldn't-

There was the horrendous sound of tearing cloth.

He didn't understand why-

A bit off curse.

Why?

A strange, enveloping blackness that seemed to rise from within.

Dwalin?

And then, quite thankfully, there was nothing.

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – And yes, I laughed myself sick when I thought of this title. It should all make sense soon if you haven't guessed where this is going already. Hopefully it gave you as much of a chuckle as it did with me. The next chapter should be up in a week's time.