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Thorin Oakenshield X Reader ~Interruption~The clash of metal upon metal, striking and profound, echoed through the night, a dissonant song ghosting from the next-door blacksmith in the tired, exhausting night.
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You slumped in bed, shoulders drawing slack as the veil of slumber was denied you and you tossed and turned in bed, trying to exclude the noise, the grating, irritating clang and ring of the blacksmith and muttered incoherent things to yourself, cursing the blacksmith and his descendants to a horrible, grisly demise, somewhere in a mountain far away where no one would hear them scream.
But even then, for all your wanton maledictions, the cacophony did not cease.
Your pillow found its way over your head, but that did nothing to eliminate the sound, if but to muffle your breath and stifle your lungs with the smell of deadened, molding hay from the stuffing of your pillow. Plugging your ears with your fingers did nothing, if but to sharpen the noise to an even more defined tension. Cursing found little refuge with you eithe