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secondratefiction · 2 years

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Would you be willing to write headcanons about Friodo falling in love with a human warrior reader (like Boromir's squire or something) please?

Let's give it a shot...

You weren't even supposed to be going to Rivendell, but you'd been glued to Boromir's side since he'd agreed to take you on and train you.

While you were exploring the first night, you happened to meet a few curious little creatures. At first you thought they were children, but that idea was quickly squashed.

Hobbits they called themselves, they were all quite friendly and you spent most of your evening talking to them, but one in particular stood out...

Where Merry and Pippin were loud and boisterous, Frodo was quiet but no less good, fun company... there was just something about the oldest hobbit that kept drawing your attention.

The next day the council of Elrond was held. You were not invited...

Not to be perturbed by such an insignificant fact, you very much found a spot to hide yourself and listen... There was talk of Mordor and Sauron, of evil you could only barely begin to understand, fighting about who should get the ring, who would be the one to destroy it... And then you heard it:

"I will take it. I will take the ring to Mordor."

Frodo Baggins, the sweet hobbit from the night before had sealed his fate, and one by one the others joined him.

You met them Just outside of the gates and the Fellowship started their match towards Mordor. Boromir was furrios

"I thought I sent you home with the others!"

"You're here of your own decision, I'm here of mine."

The two of you bickered for hours, but the party didn't stop, and short of tying you to a rock himself, Boromir couldn't stop you either.

The first several days passed well enough, mostly it was walking. Lots of walking. Which gave you lots of time to speak with Frodo.

He told you stories of the Shire, of rivers and fields he'd grown up exploring, of mischief Merry and Pippin would often rope him into, all sorts of story of his uncle Bilbo - those were his favorites, Frodo's fondness of the man shining through.

In return you told him stories of your own childhood in Gondor, growing up in Minas Tirith. Learning to race horses even before your legs were long enough to reach the stirrups, how you always followed the Guards and Rangers around the training fields until Boromir finally took pity and agreed to train you himself.

Boromir himself interjected that pity had nothing to do with it. Only that it would have been a shame to let such potential go to waste.

It wasn't until Moria that the reality of it all started to sink in... Gandalf was gone, the rest of you'd only barely survived due to his sacrifice.

Lothlorien was a bit of a blur, you were still in shock, reeling from it all when you loaded up into elven boats and started down the river.

As upset as you were though, you could tell Frodo was taking it harder. More than that, the last night in the Realm of Galadriel had done something to him... He was more sullen, more with drawn, something weighed heavy on his mind and heart.

Not that any one had much time to deal with that...

You had gone out with Frodo to gather wood for a fire when your Master confronted him. Frodo vanished right before your very eyes. It was only then that Boromir noticed you... He seemed almost broken, but you took off after where something in you just knew Frodo would be going.

And you were right. You caught him just as He was loading a boat to cross the river. Both you and Sam being steadfast in the idea of going with him... You even swam the whole bloody thing to prove your seriousness.

But Frodo was firm... the ring corrupted Boromir, the most honorable and steadfast man you knew. There was no one Frodo could really trust, and as much as he wanted, almost needed, you to come along; he couldn't. The task appointed to him was too great for that kind of risk.

Really, he shouldn't even be taking Sam, but he knew there was nothing he could say or do to convince his friend to stay.

And so, he helped you back into the boat, Frodo and Sam helping you push off the bank so you could row yourself back over to the other side. Both hearts heavy with the parting, and sincerely wishing for the opportunity to meet again when this was all said and done.

#lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagines #frodo baggins #frodo baggins x reader #frodo baggins imagine #lotr #dear god i'm so out of practice it's sad #i'm really sorry if this wasn't what you were looking for #also - if it was- i left it kind of open for a part two as well

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symphonyofsilence · 2 years

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Ok, let's talk about the last 3 episodes of TROP:

Uh...wtf did I just watch.

Well...what'd'y'know...turns out we had a fourth Silmaril? Was anybody going to tell the sons of Fëanor? Was anybody going tell FËANOR himself?!

And, you know, if Mithril contained the light of a Silmaril, which is enough to work as a star, anybody would know that Frodo was wearing a Mithril chainmail. And it would be really shit as armor or weapon 'cause it would immediately give away your place and draw eyes to you.

And since when do the elves need the light of the two trees to survive? How about the Avari? With that logic, they should have been dead by now. Why are we calling them immortal if they're going to die next Saturday? Everyone in ME is more immortal than them.

And does time mean nothing in this show? When they talked about compressing the timeline I didn't think they'd do it in every scene!

do people teleport in this show? How did the Numenoreans charge to Bronwyn's village JUST at the right moment? How did they know they should go there? How did the NUMENOREANS get to Bronwyn's village only one day after the orcs? How does it take more time for Arondir, a trained elven warrior to fight one orc (& he doesn't even defeat him) than a village of untrained peasants to defeat an army of orcs?

And...a watch tower fell just by an arrow?! Really?! This whole tower was kept together by only a rope? Who made that and why? And how's it been standing for so long? Even if it's only 1 day? Is that time compressed, too? And A lever broke a dam and that somehow activated a volcano?! And why couldn't the orcs break the dam with the grandfather of Grond? Why did they have to give so many orc casualties to take that sword back? Why did the villagers corner themselves in their village instead of fighting from the fucking tower and having the high ground? Is it because it was held together by a rope? What is this stupidity?

And it speaks volumes about the writing of this show that we both knew that there is no way that anybody could survive that eruption especially Galadriel should have been baked in her armor and that all the main characters would survive.

I mean...Bronwyn not only survives that wound but she also walks out just fine the next day and she's not even pale. Halbrand, mortaly wounded RODE to Eregion! What makes you think a volcanic eruption will kill them? Eru can't kill them.

THEY LEFT WHETHER ISILDUR WILL SURVIVE OR NOT AS A CLIFFHANGER!!!

And Adar is the only interesting character. I'm kinda rooting for him ngl.

And did Elendil even search for him before announcing him dead and crying?

Also, one would think that in a dangerous situation like this, the commander would rush in to protect the queen. And the other soldiers would protect the commander and the Queen. Except, in this case, the commander walked into volcanic ashes and started one of her famous staring contests with it.

Also, a little thing. But, how did Galadriel find Elrond when he was first orphaned alone, without friends or kin? I guess the first time Elrond was orphaned was after Elwing jumped into the sea. Well, at that time Elrond had both kin and friend. He had his twin brother Elros and then was found by Maglor & Maedhros who were both kin and later turned out to be friends. (And they are in and outside a cave). Why would Galadriel find Elrond alone without his twin and why would she hand them into the Fëanorians?

Now listen, having callbacks to certain LOTR scenes wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't blatant rip-off and a much, much lesser version and the scenes have been earned.

Like Arondir and Bronwyn promising each other that they'd grow a garden like Faramir and Eowyn did, doesn't have the same impact 'cause unlike Faramir and Eowyn, we haven't spent enough time with these characters and from what we've seen of them, both of them look bland. And we haven't seen their relationship develop. Also, the dialogue is not that good. And Galadriel and Theo hiding beneath a tree while the orcs start for them?...no. just no. And Theo saying that the sword can't be unmade by any crafts that they there possessed also doesn't work 'cause the threat of it is not explained. And giving the scene of Beren and Luthien's first meeting to Galadriel and Celeborn doesn't work cuz it's very OOC for Galadriel. And it was a special scene for Tolkien.

& now off to the big reveal I guess.

Listen...the 2nd age is not told in details like the first and third age are. there were few plotpoints that they had to meet and they WERE few! Like the Numenoreans being jealous of the Eldar's immprtality. And like Annatar coming to Eregion and deciving Celebrimbor after Galadriel, Gil-Galad and Elrond refused him cuz they didn't trust him.

THIS SEASON SHOULD HAVD WORKED ON ANATAR DECIEVING CELEBRIMBOR! HE SAW HIM FOR LIKE ONE SCENE AND HE WASN'T EVEN ANNATAR! AND THE RINGS ARE ALREADY MADE! AND THE SAURON REVEAL IS WASTED! AND THE ICONIC SAURON MAKING THE ONE RING AND LAUGHING TO HIMSELF AND CELEBRIMBOR OVERHEARING IT AND PANICING IS GONE!!

and the writers are probably congratulating themselves because we all knew that Annatar was Sauron and it wouldn't have been a shocking reveal for us. Well, guess what! It would have been for the people who haven't read the books and the people who had would have enjoyed the tension of well-written scenes between Celebrimbor and Annatar knowing who he was. And when Galadriel and Gil-Galad and Elrond warned Celebrimbor we would have sympathize with them and mourned and remorsed with them when it got too late. It's like if in HP movies the director said:"you know what, every book reader knows that Alastor Moody is Barty CrouchJr. Let's introduce a hot guy who will have a romantic relationship with Professor McGonagall who will turn out to be Barty Crouch.Jr.

They keep thinking they can write better than Tolkien, the father of modern fantasy, and they can't.

And remember when it was explicitly told that Galadriel knew Annatar was fishy from the get-go and NEVER trusted him? Because not only she was extremely intelligent and wise but also she had the gift of seeing into the minds of others and for that, Sauron was AFRAID of her? And returned her scorns with apparent curtsey? And he thought that he had found his match (as in, an enemy to be weary of) in Galadriel? And how becoming a powerful queen, stronger than the foundations of the earth was Galadriel's own ambition?

Who in all these years of reading tolkien have had thought of writing a Galadriel/Sauron fanfiction!

I'll tell you who. Mormons!

I can't help but think that how every male elf except Gil-Galad, even the extras have short hair has something to do with the showrunners being Mormons.

So does how Sauron can't be a hot twink elf with long luscious locks getting close to young Celebrimbor and seducing him over a long time until eventually Celebrimbor gets betrayed. because it may give gay vibes.

I think that elf servant being all veiled women who don't speak also has something to do with the showrunners being Mormons.

So does that Galadriel was bereft of all her tradirionally feminine traits, wise and mature personality, the reverence everyone had for her, and her ambition and desire to rule and her goal in life was given to her by her brother (keeping the oath he never had in the books) and her iconic lines in the show are told to her by Sauron and she wasn't the one with the desire to rule and she wasn't the one who knew her worth, and her husband had to be presumed dead and in the showrunners eyes, she couldn't be a mother AND a powerful woman and had to be deceived by Sauron and have romantic tension with her instead of Sauron being scared of her.

Good for you if you liked the show. Don't let random strangers on the internet ruin your enjoyment of tv shows.

But for my part, sometimes Fëanor spontanously combusting from inside sounds fantastical until I see the shits that TROP pulls and the blatant lies and or the narcissistic bullshits that the showrunners say.

#anti rop #anti trop #trop critical #anti rings of power #lotr #tolkien #galadriel #sauron #my two cents #rings of power critical #the silmarillion #jirt #jrrt

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ladysternchen · 1 year

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headcanon explained- Melian, part 3

Holding the Girdle felt at most times like the bickering of siblings that didn’t like each other all too much. ‘No, you stay out. Spin your nets elsewhere, we don’t need anyone near here who pretends to be a spider... which would actually be a very useful creature, which you are... not!’ ‘Or for Eru’s sake, Mairon, fuck off! You still suck at this. But yeah, fine, go on. Try get past me!’ That irked her, but not much more. Elu grinned whenever she would vent her feelings about Gorthaur, remarking slyly that perhaps, Lúthien had her stubbornness from both of them after all. She never told him, but it were these moments she drew her strength from, why, she couldn’t even explain to herself. Maybe it was the knowledge that she was being seen, not only as the wise Queen, or the protector of the realm or the venerated Maia, but as herself, Melian. As time went on, their wounds began to truly heal. Círdan was safe (which had been a huge relief, even if none of them liked to admit that this was due to the Noldor. Both she and Elu felt very very guilty for abandoning the Falas, but there had been nothing they could do safe hold Region and Neldoreth, so it was no use fretting about it, as she kept telling herself as much as her husband. And Círdan, loving, forgiving Círdan, had never uttered a single accusatory word), and as time passed, also the pain of Galadhon’s passing became bearable, even if they would likely never stop mourning him on these shores. And of course, for Elu and Elmo the coming of the Noldor meant also the first word they had had in thousands of years of their brother, and seeing his grandchildren moved them both deeply. Melian was still weary of all of the Noldor, even her husband’s kin, even after she had befriended Galadriel. Only after the truth about the kinslaying was out at last, her foreboding ceased. Not, however, her dislike for the sons of Fëanor and the war they had brought to Beleriand. It deeply troubled her that apparently they considered triumph over Melkor a possibility, and she implored her husband never ever to meddle in any such thing. He agreed, and for the moment, they remained safe. The coming of Men was the first time she did absolutely not see eye to eye with Elu, because she was very curious about the Secondborn, eager to get to know them, while Elu deeply mistrusted them from the start. Melian knew that at least in parts, this was surrogate war, that in truth his anger was directed at the Noldor’s behaviour, that he was less annoyed about the coming of Men than about the downfall of Beleriand they both knew was inevitable now that the Eldar had declared open war on Angband, but still she knew there was more to it. She found it irritating beyond measure that for once, he would neither confide his worries in her nor listen to her gentle insinuations that perhaps it was worth getting to know Men himself rather than hating an image in his head. But set as his mind apparently was regarding the Secondborn, Melian had no choice but to turn to others to discuss them, which especially Galadriel did very willingly, being just as eager to get to know more about them then Melian was. And so it happened that while she told Galadriel about her foresight about that man of the house of Bëor, she never told Elu about it and in hindsight, that was perhaps the worst mistake she had ever made. How she had laughed when not too long afterwards, Finrod had come to Doriath to try and persuade Elu to let Haleth and her people live in Brethil. They had stood, she, Lúthien and Galadriel, and watched the two kings talk, and Melian had thought she might actually crack a rib with the effort of not giggling. Behind her, Lúthien and Galadriel had made bets as to whether or not Elu would give in. ‘Never! Finrod will never convince him. Ada’s more afraid of Men than little Thranduil is of spiders that let themselves down their ropes upon his nose while he’s sleeping!” “Aye...” Galadriel had replied, once she had stifled her laughter at the analogy “...but you’ve never seen Finrod in action. No one can withstand him, trust me!” There was not much to laugh about in the years thereafter, as Morgoth revealed his strength, and Beleriand was ablaze, and whilst Melian had kept them all more or less safe, grief still entered Doriath once again, when messengers from Nargothrond bore them news of Aegnor and Angrod’s deaths, which obviously meant horrible pain for Galadriel. And then, in what seemed to them just a heartbeat later in their reconning, Beren came. Like with Haleth, Melian had found that mildly funny at first, but only until the whole thing spiralled out of control. She had known that Elu would be far from happy to have anyone claim Lúthien’s hand, lest of all one of the Edain, but why why WHY could he not just have told Beren 'no’? Why those accursed gems that now meant that they were at the mercy of a far greater power than hers? They had seldom really fought, but that night, she had shouted at him for an hour until all her anger had burnt itself out and she had just stood gazing at him, defeated. ‘What have you done?” she whispered. She had received no answer, but once he had left her, she had started to realise that after all, he hade not heard the Music, he could not know in his heart that those two belonged together as they themselves belonged together, something Melian had just frankly overlooked. But before she found it within herself to talk to Elu, Daeron had betrayed their daughter’s trust for the second time and told the tales on her, and Elu... well, that made Melian laugh, regardless the seriousness of the situation. As if locking Lúthien up were even possible, and she knew that he knew. She tried to talk to both of them, make them see sense, but to no avail. However much she tried to reconcile, to placate their hot tempers, in the end she was reduced to nothing but telling them both that they could never deny that they were father and daughter, and that that was no compliment. She watched resignedly as Lúthien fled, and Elu went completely to pieces. Still she was yet angry enough to deny him any help when he came asking in despair, but when he did not argue but accepted her words quietly, her heart at last softened, acknowledging his remorse, and by the time Beren and Lúthien returned, she stood again firmly by her husbands side, deeming that he had paid enough- and oh, she wished he had. But nothing was ever the same again after that night. Learning of the manner of Finrod’s death was terrible but in the end completely overshadowed by what happened after- the loss Lúthien and Beren. Her own pain was terrible, but even worse was feeling Elu’s heart break alongside Lúthien’s. She tethered him to life, would not let him go, but soon wondered if that had actually been anything but cruel, and horribly selfish. But then Lúthien returned, and achieved what Melian had not and pulled her father out his frozen state, but the news she bore tore Melian’s own heart into pieces. No true joy was left there after that, only pain. Melian was defiant, whispering threats into the night’s sky as if confronting the One. She was angry at fate itself. Elu was not. He took it as punishment and accepted it. Repented what he had done and tried his best to do better. The love and affection she felt for Elu as he took Túrin in gave her hope, hope that perhaps they would get through this after all. But that battle was long lost before they even started fighting it, as they lost Beleg to Túrin’s antics, and then Túrin himself (though, as Melian argued, he had been lost to them long before his death). At long last, that visit of her sister-in-law’s to Tol Galen turned deadly, losing Melian the person that truly had been like a sister to her, together with Galathil’s mother and wife. She never really got the opportunity to even start mourning them, as not long thereafter, Húrin brought the Nauglamir to Doriath, and Morgoth’s trap finally closed with a snap that would resonate in her very being forever more.

#headcanon explained #silmarillion headcanon #melian #part 3 #doriath #holding the girdle #the fall to darkness

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miredinmiddleearth · 2 years

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Rings of Power, Ep. 4 Review - *mega rant ahead*

*spoiler warning, though I don’t know the point of warning about spoilers in a show where nothing happens*

Thoughts on episode four:

1. Do I spy a sloppy mistake? Miriel’s outfits make no sense. Early in the episode, after waking from a dream, Miriel is seen wearing a heavily-ornamented green dress with giant pins on the shoulder. It’s stated that it’s first thing in the morning, and it is implied she fell asleep in her chair, not her bed. The next scene shows her back in that blue monstrosity of a dress that she wore the day before. Later, in the evening, she’s back in the green dress. This implies:

A. She sleeps in a nightgown that both features uncomfortable jewels and that she’s comfortable wearing in front of strangers. Unlikely.

B. Miriel re-wears an outfit two days in a row. A QUEEN? Just as unlikely.

C. Sloppy editing is sloppy. The scene back in the blue dress was supposed to take place the day before.

2. Pharazon’s line about “cleverness is for men of small ambition.” Another attempt at depth that fall flat.

3. Pharazon has a son now?! Just add it to the pile of discarded lore in the corner, I guess.

4. They did NOT! PLEASE tell me they did not just compare a visiting elf to illegal immigrants. Please tell me they are not making this fear of elves taking human jobs a real thing in Numenor. (Spoiler alert: they are). This is some of the sloppiest, most shoe-horned nonsense I’ve seen in an age.

Let me explain: Men of Numenor eventually fall because they are jealous of elf immortality and prosperity. It drives them to be the best, but that only takes you so far. At the end, they’re still mortal. So they seek that which they can’t have, and it leads to destruction.

They are NOT afraid of elves moving to their island and taking their jobs. Real-world discussions can show up in fantasy, but they take subtlety and talent. These showrunners have about as much subtlety as the Witch King’s mace shoved up a human backside. This particular real-world debate has nothing to do with realistic motivations that would make sense in the world you’re stealing from Tolkien. Your pitiful little minds only look the more miniscule next to the genius whose work you’re appropriating for your own greedy desires, you slobbering little worm-brained sacks of meat.

*deep breath to steady myself* Okay, back to reviewing

5. “Tempest in me line” literally gets Galadriel sent to jail, lol. More of Galadriel acting and therefore getting treated like an angsty teen/toddler. Literally sent to time-out. Also, more Halbrand teaching Gal how to have two brain cells. Make it stop!

6. That scene where Isildur is ousted from the ship. Let’s set the stage: Isildur lets go of a rope. Friends try to grab rope and fail. No one gets hurt. No problems with boat arise from this. Commander says he’s never seen Isildur mess up. Must have been on purpose. Immediately dismisses Isildur and his two friends.

SO much wrong with this. 1. You don’t ask Isildur WHY he did that? 2. Absolutely nothing bad happened! He let go of a rope! There is zero reason for repercussions! 3. You purposely punish innocents, even though you know exactly who is to blame? Who writes this garbage?!

7. Intrigued by Adar. Would love him to be an elf mid-orcish transformation, but that would be far too interesting an idea for these writers.

8. One thousand percent positive that Theo has elf ears hidden up under that hair.

9. Rules of sound only apply when director needs them to apply (see scene where Theo hides in the well)

10. Is anyone else distracted by Disa’s struggles with the accent, or is it just me?

11. FINALLY we see an elf using elf-like abilities like incredible hearing. Place your bets on how quickly the writers forget elves can do this.

12. Yeah, I really don’t care about the romance between two made-up characters who have zero impact on the story. If you can’t tell if I’m talking about the two Numenoreans or the elf and the healer...yeah, me neither.

13. Conveniently cut away from Galadriel incapacitating a bunch of guards. Would take way too much work to make it look believable, and honestly, the one shot of her shoving a guard into the cell is already too ridiculous-looking.

14. Miriel states the other six palantiri are lost or hidden. Good grief. Okay, fine, ignore the lore that Elendil and his sons take the stones to safety. Ignore that this lore is upheld in the movies and now you look incompetent. But don’t have Galadriel reply that she has used a palantir before! How, if they are lost or hidden?

15. This show is incapable of SHOWING us anything. Cave collapses? We don’t see it. Dwarves trapped? We don’t see it. Durin risks his life? We don’t see it. Durin has a strained relationship with his dad? We don’t see it.

What do we get to see? Durin returning, everything’s fine, and he has a reconciling with his dad. I. Don’t. Care. Because. You. Have. Done. Nothing. To. Make. Me. Care.

16. Miriel is taking her people to help the Southlands. How the heck do they know the Southlands need help? Pretty elf guy and healer girl are only just now figuring it out. We’ve seen no communication with Galadriel about this. No pigeon letter. No vision. No beacons. We’re going to war without proof there’s a threat that exists? A vague Mordor drawing and a plan on a rag are apparently all you need.

Final thoughts: I’m back to being bored. Totally just remembered there were no Harfoots! Yay! And finally, whyyyyyyyyyyy.

#rings of power #rings of power review #review #rant review #lord of the rings #tolkien #jrr tolkien #the ring speaks #anti rings of power

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justatinycollector · 8 months

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WIP Ping Ping

Thank you @pursuitseternal for the tag! Waited to do this until I had actually written something new lol. This morning I started a new Haladriel video game horror AU, here’s a peek:

The grating tone of a ringing cell phone rouses Galadriel from heavy sleep.

Confusion is the first thing she can grasp. Why she fell asleep sitting up, how the world seems to bump and shift every few seconds, what’s causing her head to feel like it weighs twice as much as usual.

Hearing a voice from the front seat—the owner of the phone, no doubt—brings some much needed clarity to her foggy mind.

“Hello, this is Finrod.” A brief pause as the speaker in the other end replies. “Hey, Amarie.”

Her brother’s voice brings calm for a moment, just a few brief seconds as she realizes she’s in the backseat of his car. They must be going somewhere. How odd that she can’t remember where.

The feeling of safety that her favorite brother’s voice brings is quickly snuffed out when a burning sensation draws her attention to her wrists, and she looks down to find them bound tightly with rope.

“A good distance from town, like an hour from the cabin maybe,” Finrod’s voice continues from the front seat. Galadriel instinctively flexes and rolls her wrists against the rope, searching for weaknesses or slack. She finds nothing, no purchase to pull on for escape.

He continues his conversation with Amarie, clearly unaware that she’s regained consciousness. “Ah, it’s a bit wet out, but no. No trouble.” Another pause as his girlfriend replies. “No, I’m being careful. You don’t need to worry. You can rest easy. I’ve been there before, I know exactly what needs to be done. She put up one hell of a fight, but I got her. Have to get her there and then-“

He’s cut off by Amarie’s faint reply. Galadriel briefly turns her attention to the windows outside, trying to ascertain her surroundings. She sees trees outlined in the darkness of the night, tall enough to suggest that they’re in the heart of the forest. Getting closer to the family cabin every second.

“Something has to be done about this, Amarie. She can’t go on this way. Someone has to fucking do something, and I don’t see anyone else stepping up, so it has to be me. I have to do this. I have to-”

This time, Finrod is cut off by Galadriel’s foot violently kicking into the side of his head. He loses control of the wheel and the world lurches violently as the car swerves off the road and crashes, and Galadriel’s world goes dark once more.

Tagging @mostlydriedmango @thecoziestbean @alicuntisms @ophidion and anyone else who wants to play!

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msmarycrawley · 2 years

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Fictober Day 21

Prompt: “I’m doing it, shut up.”

Fandom: The Rings of Power

Pairing: Galadriel/Halbrand

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Personalities clash between Galadriel and Halbrand while out at sea.

Ao3

“We should be moving to combat the waves,” Galadriel said. “They are growing bigger. Steer against them.”

“I’m doing it, shut up.” Halbrand grumbled.

The she-elf glowered silently. She wanted to respond, though she was above this petty bickering. Something about this mortal set her teeth on edge, and she wished there was anything else to look at other than him and the water that threatened to engulf them both once more. As it was, she was already having a hard time pretending not to notice Halbrand’s back muscles straining through his torn shirt.

That should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t.

“And is there not something you can do, elf?” Halbrand added with a sneer.

She rose and walked to him slowly, ignoring the creeks of the raft underfoot. “What would you have me accomplish? Elf magic is very powerful, yes, but there is nothing here. Nothing. You forget that I can see much farther than you.” Galadriel raised her chin at this.

That seemed to placate him somewhat. He looked away from her and angrily shaked the tattered ropes at his feet.

“Just..Keep doing what you’re doing.” Galadriel said, turning forward.

“Fine.” He said with some finality.

“Fine.” She repeated, not wanting him to get the last word in.

She heard him laughing quietly to himself behind her.

#haladriel #fictober22 #halbrand #galadriel #the rings of power #lotr #galadriel x halbrand #fanfiction

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helenvader · 1 year

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Galadriel and her do-nothing rope, for @ichabodjane. :-)

#the rings of power #myropstills #episode 2: adrift #halbrand #galadriel rop #also starring #galadriel's do-nothing rope

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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To Love a Ranger Chapter 9- Aragorn x OC

Aragorn x Issa

Description: After docking at the forest edge of the Anduin the Fellowship is ambushed by a legion of Uruk-hai and Orcs, ending in another devastating loss.

Word Count: 2.8k

“Hannon le (Thank you),” Issa muttered politely as a Lorien guard finished clasping a green cape around her with an Elven brooch. The guard merely bowed to her before stepping away as Lady Galadriel began going down the line of the Fellowship, giving a gift to each of them.

Boromir was given a new sword, Merry and Pippin received appropriately sized swords as well. Legolas was given the Galadhrim bow and for Sam, Elven rope. Next was Gimli, who was given three strands of Galadriel’s hair. Then came Frodo; he got the Phial of Galadriel, and Aragorn received a sheath for his sword, Andúril (his sword). Finally, she arrived in front of Issa with a small smile.

“And for you, Issa Goodwin, I present to you these two gifts,” she held up a sheathed sword, which Issa gingerly took. “This is Ringil, a sword forged for Fingolfin, the first High King of the Noldor. It served him well in life, it should serve you well now.” The girl couldn’t help but gape at her, then she carefully unsheathed the sword from its leather holder. She stared at it in wonder as it glittered like ice under the still rising sun, then looked at Galadriel again.

“M…My Lady, this is a most generous gift. I cannot thank you enough,” she attempted not to stutter, but she just couldn’t help herself. In her hands was the sword of a high King of old. She almost felt unworthy to even look at it. Nevertheless she strapped it to herself then faced Galadriel with a wide and grateful smile.

“For your second gift, I offer you this,” the Lady of Elves continued, gesturing to an Elf guard, who stepped forward holding a silver box. Galadriel opened it and retrieved something from it. Upon her holding it out, Issa realized that it was an intricately carved silver whistle at the end of a dainty but long silver chain. She stared at it curiously, then looked at the Elf.

“Forgive me if I sound impolite or ungrateful, but a whistle, ma’am?” She questioned, not even attempting to hide her confusion. Galadriel smiled once more, this time a more patient smile as she nodded.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what I’d need it for,” Issa added, sounding quite embarrassed about it.

“All in due time, dear Issa,” the Elf responded simply. “You will know the right time to use it.” The girl was still confused, but she knew that was possibly the only answer she would get from them, so she just nodded.

“Thank you,” she muttered earnestly, bowing her head a bit.

“Use it wisely, and you will find that it may be more useful than you think,” Galadriel concluded. Her vagueness only served to puzzle Issa further, but she said nothing and allowed the guards to lead them down to the boats that they would ride down the Anduin river, where they would ultimately leave Lothlórien.

They spent the day traveling the river southward in the three Elven boats Celeborn and Galadriel had kindly given them. Once it began to grow dark the Fellowship decided to dock on the bank and set up camp for the evening. After helping set up the campfire and even aiding in cooking dinner, Issa stood, ready to stretch her legs.

That’s when she noticed Boromir hiding behind a rock watching the river. As she made her way over to him she followed his gaze to a log that floated down the river. Just faintly she could see a hand grasp it and pull itself onto it. Whatever it was, it definitely seemed like it was trying to remain hidden from their sight.

“It is Gollum,” she heard from behind both her and Boromir, making them both turn to face him. “He has tracked us since Moria.” Issa wasn’t truly surprised to hear that. She knew that they were being followed, she supposed it was like a sixth sense after growing up around Elves. She just hadn’t realized that it was him that was doing it.

“I would have thought we would lose him on the river,” she muttered as she watched the log run into a rock on the other side of the river before stopping. She noticed Aragorn shake his head as he moved to stand beside her.

“He’s too clever a waterman.”

“And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make the crossing even more dangerous,” Boromir muttered before facing Aragorn. “Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength.”

“There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us,” Aragorn responded simply.

“You were quick enough to trust the Elves,” the Man retorted defensively, growing desperate in his words when Aragorn just listened impatiently rather than responding. “Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that.”

Once again the Man did not answer. He turned away from Boromir, but stopped when Boromir grabbed his tunic, turning him to face him. Issa was quick to grab his wrist and force him to unhand the tunic without thinking. She wasn’t overly fond of people touching her fiancé in such a way.

“You are afraid,” Boromir exclaimed quietly, paying no mind to the girl’s actions. “All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are!” It seemed that Aragorn wasn’t going to answer her again as he readjusted his tunic and turned away. He quickly turned back to Boromir though.

“I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city,” was all he said before turning away once again.

“Aragorn,” Issa sighed, attempting to grab his arm to stop him from walking away, though to no avail. He merely shook her hand off and proceeded to take a seat beside Legolas, who was keeping watch on the forest behind him. She then looked at Boromir, who merely scoffed at Aragorn before walking away from her to sit beside the river bank where the boats were.

While she agreed that taking the Ring to Minas Tirith was not the best idea, the way that Aragorn and Boromir were going about it was terrible at best (and disastrous at worst). Just like Galadriel had said the night they entered Lothlórien, their quest stood upon the edge of a knife. If they strayed even a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. They were not going to get far if Aragorn and Boromir continued to disagree on such trivial matters like these. There needed to be a compromise or else the Fellowship would fall to ruin.

The very next morning they were back in the water continuing south. Issa could practically feel Boromir’s scathing look on Aragorn as he paddled his boat even though she wasn’t even in the same boat as either of them. Instead she was in the boat with Legolas and Gimli, which sat in between Boromir’s boat (which contained Merry and Pippin) and Aragorn’s boat (which held Sam and Frodo). The Elf and Dwarf had refused to let her aid in paddling the boat so she’d been biding her time by silently checking on everyone. Occasionally she would lean over to one side of her boat and flick water at the Hobbits to get a laugh out of them (their laughs always brought a smile to her face).

However, there was no one she checked on more than Aragorn. There were a few occasions where he met her gaze, and they would always share a smile before turning away, but Issa noticed that Aragorn refused to even look in Boromir’s direction. Issa thought they were both acting a bit childish, but she had a feeling that pointing it out would only make things worse.

Eventually she grew sleepy. Not doing anything for a certain amount of time did that to her. After checking that the world wouldn’t explode if she rested her eyes for a few minutes, she made herself comfortable by curling up to the side of the boat with her head resting on top of the edge and her eyes fell closed. Unfortunately she was quickly woken up when she heard Aragorn call Frodo’s name softly. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gasped in amazement at the sight before her.

Two enormous statues towered above them like three hundred foot pinnacles on either side of the river. They had been gorgeously carved into images of the Gondorian Kings of old, each holding a hand outstretched in a ‘stop’ stance while the other held a sword as a sign that they were there to protect Gondor against enemies. They stood tall, powerful and mighty, much to the awe of the Fellowship.

“The Argonath…” Aragorn trailed off softly, and after one look at him Issa could tell that he was moved by the stone sentinels. “Long have I desired to look upon the Kings of old... my kin.”

The Fellowship remained silent in amazement as the current moved them through the narrow gap at the statues’ feet. Only a mile down the river they ended up in a large lake right before a huge waterfall that finally ended the river. They quickly docked their boats and climbed out, ready to settle for the night.

“We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot…we approach Mordor from the North,” Aragorn instructed, eyes grazing over each member of the Fellowship.

“Oh yes,” Gimli grumbled gloomily. “Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks. And after that it gets even better… a festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see.” Issa rolled her eyes at him.

“That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf,” she responded for Aragorn. The Dwarf looked indignant at her words.

“Recover my…” he repeated in offense before grumbling under his breath. Issa tried to suppress a smile at how easy it was to rile the Dwarf up, then watched as Legolas faced Aragorn with urgency.

“We should leave now,” he muttered quietly.

“No. Orcs patrol the Eastern shore,” the Man responded in the same tone. “We must wait for the cover of darkness.”

“It’s not the Eastern shore that worries me,” he spoke, eyes glancing over the Parth Galen forest that stood just a few feet away from the shores. “A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it.” His words worried her, and the knowing look that Aragorn offered in return didn’t help in the slightest. She watched as Merry walked over and dumped a small pile of kindling at Gimli’s feet before looking around.

“Where’s Frodo?” His question caused a chain reaction in everyone. Within seconds everyone was up and looking around for the Ring Bearer. Issa’s eyes fell on Boromir’s shield, and she came to the quick realization that Boromir was missing as well.

“Aragorn…” she trailed off slowly.

“I will go look for him,” Aragorn said, taking her hand in his. “You stay here with the others.” Issa wanted to protest, wishing to help him find Frodo, but ultimately decided against it and instead nodded. She watched as the Ranger disappeared into the woods, an uneasy feeling sinking into her stomach. She had a feeling Legolas noticed because he began walking over to her but suddenly paused, which confused her.

“Legolas?” She called worriedly. The Elf had no time to say anything before a terrifying sounding war cry broke through the trees. Without warning, a swarm of Uruk-hai and Orcs surrounded them. In an instant the Fellowship was up yet again. It was an ambush!

“Get to the woods,” Legolas instructed urgently.

Issa ushered Sam, Merry and Pippin into the woods. Sam immediately ran off to find Frodo, ignoring the girl’s calls for him to come back. She knew it was all for naught, however, so she instead focused on the rest of the Hobbits. Unfortunately that didn’t last long as Merry and Pippin ran off after him, leaving her alone. Unfortunately she couldn’t even find time to run after them as she suddenly became surrounded by a small group of Uruks, ready to kill her. She pulled out Ringil, ready to fight.

And fight, she did. She had managed to kill at least half before she finally received help in the form of Legolas, who stood back to back with her as they took down the remaining group surrounding them. Their victory was short lived as they heard a horn sounding in the distance. It was the horn of Gondor.

“Boromir,” Issa gasped worriedly.

“Come on Issa,” Legolas grabbed her hand and began pulling her in the direction that the horn came from.

It took them much longer to reach him than they expected. On the way they caught sight of Gimli fighting off his own horde of Orcs. Of course Issa couldn’t just let him do it alone so she and Legolas jumped in, helping him finish off before recruiting him to help find Boromir. Legolas thankfully remembered what direction the horn was coming from.

They picked up their pace until they reached a small clearing, which held a rather large amount of Orc and Uruk bodies. Just faintly she could hear more soldiers running away, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she realized Boromir was on the ground in Aragorn’s arms, three arrows sticking out of his chest.

“I would have followed you, my brother...my captain, my King,” he muttered to Aragorn with the best smile he could muster up. Then, just a moment later, Issa watched as he took his last breath. She gasped quietly and covered her mouth in shock as tears welled up in her eyes. Aragorn carefully laid Boromir on the ground, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead afterwards.

“Be at peace, son of Gondor,” he whispered before standing up with his head still low.

He turned, then his eyes met his fiancé’s. They moved towards each other in unison until he finally pulled the girl into one of the tightest embraces she’d ever felt from him. She felt his shaky hand grip her like a lifeline, and she couldn’t help but allow her tears to fall as she looked at him over. He looked exhausted - emotionally and physically.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. The look of pure love and adoration in his eyes took her back for a moment.

“I’ll be okay. What about you?”

“I’m fine,” she nodded before looking down at Boromir. “What… what happened?”

“He was trying to protect Merry and Pippin,” was all the answer she needed. She nodded then sighed shakily.

“They will look for his coming from the white tower…but he will not return,” Aragorn continued sadly.

“They will know that he died with honor and valor,” she reassured him gently, then hesitated. “Aragorn, can we…” The Man didn’t even have to hear the rest of her question to know what she wanted. She wished to bury him at sea so that he could rest in peace. And that was the greatest honor they could do him for his bravery.

So, Aragorn and Legolas carried him back to the river, laying him in one of the remaining two boats (where the third was, Issa didn’t know yet). Issa laid his sword on his chest, arranging his hands so they were resting on the hilt, while Gimli muttered a Dwarvish prayer. Once everything was set, Aragorn untied the boat. All four of them watched as the boat followed the current before finally falling down the waterfall, putting the warrior to rest. For a moment they just stood there in silence laying their respects, then Legolas moved over to the last remaining boat.

“If we are quick, we will catch Frodo and Sam before nightfall,” he said quickly. When Aragorn didn’t answer at first, Issa looked at him. The Man was looking towards the far shore where Frodo and Sam’s boat was. Both she and Legolas immediately understood what he was thinking.

“You mean not to follow them…” Issa muttered in realization.

“Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands,” Aragorn answered simply.

“Then it has all been in vain,” Gimli grumbled. “The Fellowship has failed.”

“Not if we hold true to each other,” the Man protested. “We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, not while we have strength left.” He paused to pull a hunting knife out of his pack and strap it on before looking at them again.

“Leave all that can be spared behind,” he continued grimly. “We travel light. Let's hunt some Orc.” His conclusion excited the Dwarf because he laughed heartily.

“Yes!” His enthusiasm earned a small laugh from Issa as she strapped any weapons and other supplies she’d need to herself. Once everyone was ready they followed Aragorn back into the woods, following the Uruk-hai trail.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x oc

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warrioreowynofrohan · 2 years

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For the character ask game, what about Boromir? --tolkien-feels

Ooh, good one! Thank you!

One thing I love about them: His sense of responsibility. The thing about the Ring is that, when targeting good people, it doesn’t tempt them using their bad qualities, but using their good ones. Gandalf says it outright (the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire for strength to do good). Sam suggests it to Galadriel, and her response implies it was already on her mind:

Sam: You’d put things to rights…You’d make some folk pay for their dirty work!

Galadriel: I would. That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas!

And it is the same with Boromir. He feels a strong sense of responsibility for his city and his people; he knows that they are in deadly danger, he knows it is his job as their commander to see to their defense, he knows they are vastly outmatched in military terms. And he knows they have no allies from whom they can expect reinforcements (remember what Théoden is like when we first see him in TTT). He knows time is of the essence; he took the time to go to Rivendell in hopes that they would offer something useful; and instead he’s been dragged far out of his way and the company decided to waste a month dilly-dallying in the unsettling forest. He needs to get home, and he’s not happy at the prospect that none of his companions will go with him and this whole journey will have been for nothing.

It is a devastating weight to know that you have to do a particular job right, to know that many people including your loved ones will suffer terribly if you don’t succeed, and to feel that you don’t know how to do it. And it’s that weight, much more than the desire for glory, that drives Boromir’s desire for the Ring. It looks like the only way out.

One thing I wish people realized about them: There’s a particular line in the appendices that I find hilarious and everyone else seems to be sleeping on it.

It did not seem possible to Faramir that anyone in Gondor could rival Boromir, heir of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower; and of like mind was Boromir.

It takes a second. It’s not saying the brothers thought each other were awesome; it’s saying, “Faramir thought Boromir was awesome. Boromir also thought Boromir was awesome.” It’s such an iconic piece of characterization offered in such a great, understated way.

One (or more) headcanons I have about them: He’s an outdoorsy type. Goes hiking in the White Mountains when he’s off duty, which is why he knew what to expect from Caradhras.

A second one: He didn’t particularly want to be Steward of the City. He admired and respected his father and had a high opinion of the steward’s position and prestige, and he understood the job would be his responsibility, but he preferred frontline combat to politics and governance. And he canonically wasn’t interested in romance, but the succession would have required getting married. The appendices specifically compare him to Eärnur, the last King of Gondor, who rode to Minas Morgul for a duel with the Witch-king and left no heir.

Third: Denthor sent him and not Faramir to Rivendell not just because ‘the way was difficult and dangerous’ but because he trusted that Boromir would put Gondor’s interests first, whereas Faramir might get caught up in the elven-ness of it all and get roped into anything.

One character I love seeing them interact with: This is challenging, because it involves untangling the movie and the books. In the movies, I love his interactions with Merry and Pippin; in the book, he has very little interaction with them, and I think this was a good addition on the movies’ part. In the book, the bulk of his interactions are with Aragorn. One that stands out to me, and that I find quite entertaining, is when they’re boating down Anduin and Boromir has been disagreeing with Aragorn on the route for a while, and they hit the rapids of Sarn Gebir and Boromir thinks it’s intentional. Paraphrased:

Boromir: Once again [as with Caradhras, and Moria, and Lothlórien], I think this is a very bad idea!

Aragorn: OH CRAP OH CRAP OH CRAP I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO THAT!

One character I wish they would interact with / interact with more: I very much wish we’d gotten more / any ‘on-screen’ interactions between him and Faramir! And Denethor. There’s a lot of interesting family dynamics there to explore.

One (or more) headcanons I have about them and one other character: If he’d lived, he would have liked Éowyn a lot, and entirely approved his brother’s choice.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #boromir #denethor #faramir #eowyn #aragorn #gondor

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

Text

The Road Less Travelled (Legolas x Reader) (Part 2)

A/N: A continuation of my Fellowship x Pregnant! Reader story, in which you ended up choosing Legolas to help raise your unplanned child. Part 2 can be read without reading part 1 first.

Synopsis: Life with Legolas, your two daughters and your treehouse is perfect, until one night, parental instincts go on ignored, and things go deeply awry.

Warnings: I watched The Conjuring before bed tonight and was unfortunately inspired. Enjoy. Also Legolas is a cute adoptive father send tweet.

Pairings: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 2610

Rain fell heavily outside, though yourself and your family did not feel said rain. Buried below glorious crowns of leaves, your treehouse was situated securely.

Built into the thick trunk of an Ithilien tree by Legolas’ own bare hands, your treehouse was set with two bedrooms, and resembled an elevated cottage more than anything else. Around the length of the cosy home, a rounded balcony lay.

Leading down from said balcony was an old rope your children used to climb to and from home. One broken ankle later from your youngest twin, however, and a winding set of stairs was built into the trunk below, too — leading up to your balcony.

And indeed, “twins” was right.

Learning on the Fellowship’s journey that you were pregnant with that no-good Brander’s child was shocking enough, let alone discovering at the actual birth that said little baby’s embryo had split into two, providing you with a set of beautiful daughters.

Fortunately, they were nothing alike their biological father in spirit — possessing kind hearts and noble souls instead. Even more fortunately, they garnered your looks. Regarding their appearances, although twins, they each held distinctive differences.

Perhaps the luckiest of all, your old Fellowship colleague, now turned husband, seemed to have the most influence on both Ivorwen and Tobrien — better known simply as “Ivy” and “Toby”.

Rabbit stew, a recipe sent from your Shire friends, was made for dinner that night, as the four of you sat around a wooden table and ate merrily, enjoying the lively atmosphere the warm candles provided.

“There is still hair on the meat!” Ivy insisted, though, the grin on her 9-year-old cheeks gave away her agenda.

“There is not!” Legolas urged back, sharing her grin.

You and Toby laughed brightly, passing a plate of rolls between one another. This argument had been going on since before any of you had even sat down.

Ivy made a show of stabbing a chunk of rabbit and holding it up. “Yes, there is! See? There’s hair on it! You’re a horrible cook after all!”

Legolas made a show of squinting his eyes and leaning across the table to inspect the chunk of rabbit, before settling back into his chair and pressing on.

“That’s most likely your own hair! How many times have I encouraged you to learn my version of braiding?” Legolas pointed out, gesturing to his own locks.

Your eyes crinkled with amusement and love, as you watched the dad and daughter exchange teasing words, even if none of those words were actually “dad”, “father” or even “ada”.

“You’re impossible, Varno,” Ivy shook her head, still smiling nonetheless. “Just admit your talent lies in hunting and not in cooking.”

“I resent that accusation,” Legolas playfully warned, pointing a fork at Ivy.

“Varno” was a name both you and Legolas had decided upon. “Ada” reminded him too much of his own father, and “uncle” simply felt too misplaced.

So, instead, “Varno” was decided upon — meaning “protector” in Legolas’ own language, which is exactly what he had been for you, ever since that fateful night by the campfire you’d learnt of your predicament.

Although many of your friends and colleagues that evening offered you their hand in marriage, you had felt a maternal stirring within you. Something told you to choose the best of the best for your unborn offspring, and who better than a steadfast elf to keep you safe?

You had been watching Legolas one night, a few evenings after learning of the life growing within you, with your hand over your stomach.

Although you still didn’t quite have the full comprehension of knowledge behind this, you truly believed, till this day, that both Ivy and Toby told you to “choose that one—he’s our dad”.

Resolute in your mind, you approached Legolas and accepted his offer of marriage. He was ecstatic and gleeful, and then a little boastful to the other suitors. Cockiness befell him for a short while, until your stomach grew and a paternal kick changed him.

He matured overnight and grew from a young archer into an awaiting father, despite the girls not being his. That never slowed him, though—he was a better father to Ivy and Toby than some real dads were to their own children.

He soon married you after the war, and the rest was history.

After you had to break Legolas and Ivy’s “fight” up with a laugh and a motherly warning, the table was cleared.

“All right, dishes to the kitchen, and then teeth,” Legolas announced, quirking a brow in Ivy’s direction as she walked past.

Legolas mouthed to her that their fight wasn’t over, and Ivy made a show of raising her brows once in challenge.

“She gets that from Gimli, I know it. Don’t ask me how,” Legolas whispered to you, as you too walked by.

“Intrusive visits and loud Yules,” you joked, grinning over your shoulder at your best friend.

Grimacing, Legolas winced his teeth with a hiss. “Do not speak of such holidays, let us just enjoy the autumn while it lasts.”

“You don’t want Yule to come soon?” Toby asked, appearing from behind Legolas, and peeking her head around his torso to gaze up in his direction. “What about toys?”

“Galadriel sends the best, and nothing has topped the bow she gave me in Lothlorien eight years ago,” Legolas replied. “Have you brushed your teeth yet, aranel?” (princess)

Toby made a prolonged noise, as she beamed brightly to show off her teeth.

“No, I don’t fall for pretty girls and pretty teeth, thank you very much,” said Legolas shaking his head. “Breath test.”

He bent down and allowed her to piggyback ride him. Standing swiftly, he looked over his shoulder and at her, where she then breathed loudly with an open mouth into his face.

Legolas scrunched his nose and recoiled. “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell someone with stinky gums. And I’ve been to Mordor.”

Toby’s eyes grew bright with excitement. “Will you tell us another Fellowship story tonight?”

“Only if you brush your teeth,” Legolas answered, nuzzling his nose with hers.

Ivy walked past again, done with her dishes, and scoffed at Legolas. “Don’t listen to him, Toby. It’s bribery!”

Legolas gently kicked her ankle as she walked by, although, a feather could’ve done more damage—your “gentle giant”, you called him.

“Very well then, tonight I’ll tell you all about the Mouth of Sauron, and why brushing your teeth is important,” Legolas said again, turning around to watch the eldest twin head for the bathroom down the hall.

She waved him off over her shoulder, before disappearing to brush her teeth.

Toby swiftly kissed Legolas’ cheek, before dismounting from the piggyback ride and skipping after her sister.

You watched from the kitchen sink with a warm smile, and wiped a bowl with a dry rag. You observed the ardent love in Legolas’ eyes, as he watched the hall for a minute, where Toby and Ivy could be heard giggling over their dad’s cooking skills.

He finally shook his head and turned to you, wearing a content smile of his own. Catching your warm expression, he walked towards you with a sly question on his tongue.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, returning to the dishes. “But have I ever thanked you for marrying me and helping me to raise those two ladies?”

“Ladies is a stretching term,” said Legolas, coming up behind you with a wrapping of your torso and a burying of his cheek in your hair, as he hugged you from behind, “but no—I don’t think the few thousand times is enough. Could you perhaps tell me once more?”

You melted into his hug, laughed like bright bells, and turned around. Wrapping your own arms around him, you buried your head into his shoulder and embraced him tightly.

“Well, thank you,” you emphasised, teasing him slightly.

Rocking the hug a little, he kissed the top of your head, and responded after a moment. “Actually, it is you all the thanks is owed to—I never assumed a life like this would be possible for me, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” you agreed, squeezing the hug once more.

You both stayed like that for a moment, before he kissed the top of your head again and let go. “You can ready the girls for bed if you’d like, I’ll finish up here.”

You lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, before walking away. Your hands remained held until the distance you walked grew too much, and Legolas had to let go to stay in front of the sink.

He smiled after you, as you disappeared around the wall.

Sighing in tranquillity, as the rain grew outside, Legolas looked out the glass window to his side. All he could make out were tree trunks through the rain and moonlight, and the prince basked in the sense of home for a few seconds.

However, the placid state could only last for so long. Unsure if the girls teasing him all day on their rabbit hunt had just worn him down, or if his eyes were indeed working correctly, a sway of trees exposed a trunk in the distance, where Legolas could have sworn he saw a body scaling.

Narrowing his eyes and knitting his brows, the archer moved closer to the glass window. As his breath fogged up the glass, Legolas moved as close as he dared to the window, observing the distant trunk.

Peering harder and harder, Legolas prayed for the wind to sway the leaves again, so he could view the tree. However, before he had the chance to do so, a quick voice from behind startled him.

“C’mon, Varno!” Toby urged, waving her dad to follow. “Me and Ivy are ready for the bedtime story!”

Legolas jumped on his feet, most unlike an elf indeed, and snapped his eyes over his shoulder to his daughter. Meeting her young gaze, he calmed.

Although, with the odd anomaly on the distant trunk still on his mind, Legolas turned back to the window. The leaves swayed again, and Legolas saw the tree once more. However, this time, no beings scaled the side of it.

He swallowed his nerves and shook his head, as his daughter called him once more.

“Varno?” Her voice was slow and unsure.

Meeting her eyes again, he beamed brightly and ran forwards. Scooping her loudly laughing self into his arms, he spun around and lifted her high—all whilst heading down the hall.

Toby’s laughs and Legolas’ eagle noises alerted you first, as they flew into the bedroom. “Eagle Attack” was a game he’d played with the girls since birth, where he’d lift them high, making them “fly”, and screech obnoxiously.

It usually ended with him gently throwing them down onto a bed or couch, in an effort to tire them out before slumber. Tonight, apparently, was no different.

“Aren’t we a little too old for Eagle Attack, Varno?” Ivy taunted, already sitting cross-legged on her bed, as you brushed her hair beside her.

“I’m over two thousand-years-old, and I still find it fun,” Legolas taunted back. He collapsed onto Toby’s bed with her backwards, leaving the younger twin a laughing mess.

“I do not think that tires them out as much as you believe,” you advised, shaking your head with a smile in your husband and daughter’s direction, who asked for the ride again.

“That’s why I have stories hidden up my sleeve,” Legolas replied. He sat up on his elbows, and smirked at you.

You gave him a playful frown, before finishing Ivy’s hair. Kissing your daughter’s cheek, you began tucking her in.

Legolas readied one candle, and dimmed all the other lanterns, so sleep would find the girls swiftly. Soon, as you tended to Ivy and he to Toby, Legolas’ story began.

It was one you remembered well, and one you also didn’t want to. You appreciated how comical Legolas delivered the story, in a way accessible to children, for there was nothing child-friendly about that war.

It wasn’t long after that, that soft snores from the girls filled the room.

Bringing the woollen blanket up to each daughter’s chin, and kissing their temples, you and Legolas bid them a soft goodnight from the door.

Closing it behind yourselves, you both began the small journey down the hall back to your shared room. He wrapped one arm around your back, and led you safely to the door.

Upon entering the room, you each made your way to your own beds. You had only shared a few kisses on the lips throughout your marriage, usually in times of great emotion, like the birth of your daughters, or the wedding itself.

Yours and Legolas’ marriage was almost entirely platonic, but he loved you more than any other, and you him. Only Ivy and Toby were counted among his other greatest loves, with you sitting safe right beside them.

Although nothing physical or lustful of nature took place between you, your relationship was one of deep devotion, and you had, in your own way, each pledged yourselves entirely to one another.

It was simply the most beautiful friendship, and one neither of you forsook.

Fluffing up your pillow, you rearranged your bed, which was only a metre away from Legolas’ own. He did the same, and hummed to himself slightly over the rain outside.

“This weather is a little intense, isn’t it?” you spoke up, looking at the roof above once in gesture.

He followed your gaze and agreed from behind his concerned frown. “I was almost worried earlier that the roof would collapse, with the leaves now falling and such.”

“For its seventh autumn, it isn’t doing too bad,” you decided, now sliding into bed.

“Agreed,” Legolas smiled, commending himself and his handiwork.

As he slipped into his own sheets, Legolas thought of what he saw earlier scaling the trunk. You were just about to reach over, wish your best friend a goodnight, before turning the candle out, until Legolas’ voice stopped you.

“Actually, meleth nîn—” he called, earning a blinking back of your eyes.

Conflicted over his own words, that same paternal feeling that kicked within him eight years ago drove his instincts. Sucking on his lower lip in thought, Legolas decided to trust whatever his gut was telling him, and lifted his blankets over to the side.

He beckoned you to slide into the covers with him. It was nothing unusual for you both, for many nights you had spent sleeping in the same bed with him. It first started in those early winter days, when your teeth chattered and your bones shivered.

His body warmth provided both solace and security, until you each grew so comfortable around one another that hugging in your sleep seemed as casual as a pat on the shoulder.

You almost went to tease him about being touch-starved or something of the likes, until you saw the look behind his eyes. They were the eyes of a concerned patriarch, and you knew better than to disagree with him.

After all, you knew to trust your own maternal instincts. His were no different.

Without saying a word, you slipped out from your bed and climbed into his, relishing in the warmth of his arms. He kissed the top of your head goodnight, before turning the candle off.

Only a small percentage of the fear within his stomach subsided, but he tried hard to fight it away. Nonetheless, the rain lulled him to sleep, where he then fell into a light slumber alongside you.

That is, until the bloodcurdling screaming of the girls started.

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rainydaymiddleearthimagines · 3 years

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Destiny Calling: Chapter Eight

You sat on a rock, watching over the hobbits. You had been guiding them now, walking through what Gimli accurately described as "A labyrinth of stone.". There was one slight problem with your skills though. You were so unfocused it often led you to have to stop. The hobbits didn't mind it, they were just happy to have a guide leading them in the right direction. "Gandalf!" Frodo gasped, leaning up. You looked over, Sam also leaning up. "Frodo, are you alright?" You asked, your voice gentle as you did. "Yes... It was... It was just a dream." Frodo muttered. He laid back down, falling asleep soon after. You looked at Sam who was still sitting up.

"Sam? Can you not sleep?" You asked. He shook his head, getting up and sitting next to you. "What do the stones say?" He asked. "We're taking the right path... I'm only worried of the dangers ahead." You muttered. "Do you not know a safe way?" He asked. "There is no safe way to Mordor." you admitted. He gulped and you sighed. "I did not intend to add to your anxieties, I apologize Sam." you said. "Aragorn being so far away has affected you hasn't it?" Sam asked. You nodded sadly. "Is it foolish to say I miss him?" you asked, handing Sam Lambas bread. He took it. "I miss someone at home too." He said. "Who, pray tell, captures the mesmerizing gaze of Samwise Gamgee?" you asked with a smile. He chuckled.

"Her name is Rosie... Rosie Cotton." Sam admitted. "You seem fond of Rosie." you said. "I've not voiced my feelings... But when I get back, I will." He said. "The journey has changed you, hmm?" you asked. "Yes. Very much so." Sam admitted. "I wonder what it will be like when I return home." you pondered. "Aragorn will probably marry you." Sam said. You chuckled. "He's asked me before." you admitted. "You said no?" Sam asked. "I actually said yes, my father was the one who said no." you admitted. "Does Lord Elrond not like Aragorn?" Sam asked. "No, he does. But my father's relationship with him is very strained." you explained. Sam nodded, looking at the mountains around you. You looked at Frodo who was sound asleep. "Do you think Frodo will be alright after all of this?" Sam asked. You knew the truth was probably no. You didn't want to scare Sam so you simply replied with "I don't know Sam. I don't know."

Sam eventually went back to sleep, you waking them up as the sun rose. The walking annoyed you to no end, you internally questioning yourself of how much of this you could take. Sam tied a rope to a rock, all of you climbing down into the mist. "Can you see the bottom?" Sam asked you. "No! Don’t look down, Sam! Just keep going." You answered. A box fell from Sam's bag. "Catch it. Grab it Mister Frodo!" He said. Frodo grabbed it, just as your feet touched the ground, Frodo falling. He landed in your arms. "Careful!" you gasped. "Mister Frodo!?" Sam called. "Good news Sam, we found the bottom." you said making Frodo laugh. Sam climbed down to you and Frodo. "Bogs and rope and goodness knows what. It’s not natural. None of it." Sam muttered, looking at his surroundings. "What’s in this?" Frodo asked, holding up the box. "Nothing. Just a bit of seasoning. I thought maybe if we was having a roast chicken one night or something." Sam replied. "Roast chicken?!" You and Frodo asked in unison. "You never know." Sam shrugged making you chuckle. "Sam, my dear Sam." Frodo laughed. "It’s very special, that. It’s the best salt in all the Shire." Sam said in a "matter of fact" tone. "It is special. It’s a little bit of home." Frodo said with a smile.

You looked at Sam's rope. "We can’t leave this here for someone to follow us down." You said. "Who’s gonna follow us down here? It’s a shame really. Lady Galadriel gave me that. Real Elvish rope. Well there’s nothing for it. It’s one of my knots. Won’t come free in a hurry." Sam sighed. He yanked on the rope, it loosening and hitting the ground. "Real Elvish rope." Frodo snorted. You tried your best not to laugh but you couldn't resist. After all of you recovered from the rope incident you walked ahead, Frodo and Sam on each of your sides.

"So, what is the Shire like?" You asked. Sam perked up. "Oh it's much larger than most people think!" Sam said. "You've never been?" Frodo asked curiously. "No, me and Aragorn never saw reason to go." You admitted. "Well, Sam is not wrong, it is really big compared to what most people believe it to be." Frodo agreed. "But it's beautiful! Flowers everywhere!" Sam said. "You say that because you're the gardener." Frodo chuckled. "And a darn good one too!" Sam said proudly. "Is it true you live out of holes?" You asked. "More like we live in the sides of hills." Frodo corrected. "Can I ask you somethin' Miss Y/n?" Sam asked. "Of course Sam." You answered. "What is the other elven city like?" Sam asked. You sucked in a breath.

"Sorry-" "No Sam, it is quite alright." You assured. "it is quite large and the other elves are very pleasant... Unless you're not elven, in which case they tend to be quite hostile." You stated. "My uncle said it was beautiful..." Frodo said. "Oh it is. It is almost like it is autumn all year round though and unless you're gifted with the ability to speak with nature it is far to easy to get lost in the nearby woods." You explained. "Yes, Bilbo mentioned that." Sam nodded. "He's been?" you asked. "Oh yes. Though according to him, he was imprisoned there." Frodo said. "...And escaped? How pray, tell did he manage to do that?" you asked surprised. "Barrels." Sam and Frodo said in unison. "Barrels?" You asked. "He smuggled himself and the dwarves in barrels." Frodo said. "Dwarves- what in the world did your uncle do- Why was he out there to begin with?" You asked. "Uhhh... That's complicated." Frodo said. "eh?" You made a confused noise.

You all walked until nightfall, you looking at the stars. You wondered if Aragorn was safe, wherever he was. Your heart was practically aching, you missed him so much. You sighed, bringing your knees to your face as you sighed, poking the dirt with your fingers while the hobbits slept. The next morning finally came, you all walking through the sharp and dangerous rocks of Emyn Muil. You looked forward. "Mordor..." You muttered, seeing the dark lands. "The one place in Middle-Earth we don’t want to see any closer is the one place we’re trying to get to." Sam said with a sigh. "Do you think Gandalf meant for us to take this way?" Sam asked. "He didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen, Sam. But they did." Frodo muttered. "We cannot lose hope now you two. We must press on." You said to them. Frodo seemed to lock onto something in Mordor, collapsing to the ground. "Frodo?" You asked, kneeling to him. "Mister Frodo? It’s the ring, isn’t it?" Sam asked. "It’s getting heavier." He nodded. He clutched the ring, his breaths slowly relaxing. "What food have we got left?" Frodo asked. "Well, let me see." Sam said, going through his bag. "Oh, yes. Lovely. Lembas bread. And look! More lembas bread." He said, pulling out the bread wrapped in large leaves. He broke off a piece of it and threw it to him and threw another piece to you.

You bit into bread. "Say what you will about my grandmother but she has the best bread." you said, earning laughs from the two hobbits. "I don’t usually hold with foreign food, but this Elvish stuff, it’s not bad." Sam said. "Nothing ever dampens your spirits, does it, Sam?" Frodo asked, smiling. "Those rain clouds might." Sam said with a sigh.

You all walked, following a very odd, yet specific path before you stopped. "What in the world is that smell?" Sam asked. You felt like you were being watched and you remembered one other time you felt like this. "Let's... Keep walking." you muttered. It wasn't long that night came, Sam and Frodo both sleeping soundly. You sat on a rock, sharpening your blade.

Gollum.

You looked up, pretending to be oblivious to the creature climbing down the rocks as he spoke to himself. "They’re thieves. They’re thieves. The filthy little thieves. Where is it? Where is it? They stole it from us. My Precious. Curse them, we hates them! It’s ours it is, and we wants it." Gollum said, climbing down the rocks. Then he reached for Frodo and was met with a blade. "Lay a single finger on him and I will cut it off." you hissed. Frodo shot up, Sam and him scooching back.

As cruel as it may have seemed, you put the elven rope to use, tying it around the creature's neck due to Frodo's insistence that you leave Gollum alive. You walked, Gollum yelling and crying. "It burns! It burns us! It freezes!" You sighed at this yelling. "Oh by the Valor do you ever SHUT UP!?" You snapped. Gollum stopped walking, Sam yanking on the rope and making Gollum fall. "Nasty Elves twisted it!" Gollum spat, looking at you. He turned to Frodo and Sam. "Take it off us!" Gollum begged. "Quiet you!" Sam hushed. Gollum let out another yell. "It’s hopeless! Every orc in Mordor’s gonna hear this racket. Let’s just tie him up and leave him." Sam suggested. "I think Sam is correct, this is extremely annoying and my sanity is deteriorating very quickly." You said. "No! That would kill us! Kill us!" Gollum wailed. "It’s no more than you deserve!" Sam snapped.

Gollum rolled around, squirming to get the rope off. "Maybe he does deserve to die. But now that I see him, I do pity him." Frodo admitted. Gollum hushed at the sound of this, looking at Frodo on his knees. "We be nice to them, if they be nice to us. Take it off us! We swears to do what you wants. We swears!" Gollum pleaded. "There is no promise you can make that I can trust." Frodo said. "We swears to serve the master of the Precious. We will swear on…on the Precious!" Gollum said before hacking out a noise similar to his name. "The ring is treacherous. It will hold you to your word." Frodo said. "Yes on the Precious. On the Precious." Gollum said, inching closer to Frodo. "I don’t believe you!" Sam yelled, forcing Gollum back. Gollum attempted to run away, Sam yanking back on the rope and pulling Gollum back. "Get down! I said, down!" Sam shouted at Gollum. You sighed. "Sam!" Frodo yelled. "He’s trying to trick us! If we let him go, he’ll throttle us in our sleep!" Sam said. Gollum coughed, grabbing at his throat.

You stumbled, Sam looking over his shoulder as you dropped.

Visions bombarded you, war being the subject of the vision. It was Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn, fighting a battle. A banner soon filled your mind, one of a horse... Then you suddenly returned to your normal state, Frodo standing next to you. "War." you whispered. "What?" Frodo asked. "War is brewing in Rohan..." you muttered. Sam turned. "Do you wish to turn back-" "No... I-I promised you I'd help see this through." you muttered. Frodo looked over at Gollum. "Maybe he can lead us through the Marshes. You made a comment saying it was dangerous." Frodo recalled. "Frodo... I do not trust him." you admitted. Still, Frodo was right, even if you were being guided by nature itself you didn't have confidence in the marshes. "You know the way to Mordor?" Frodo asked. "Yes." Gollum responded. " You’ve been there before?" Frodo asked. "Yes." Gollum repeated, this time more anxious. Frodo removed the rope and you sighed, closing your eyes. Sam shook his head with a frown. "You will lead us through the Marshes, and anywhere else we may need guidance." Frodo said. Gollum nodded.

He was weirdly quick, rushing across the rocks as you all tried to keep up. He rushed off, taking a moment to talk to himself. "To the gate, to the gate! To the gate, the master says. Yes!" He muttered. Another version of himself seemed to take over. "No! We won’t go back Not there. Not to him. They can’t make us." He said, hacking out his name again. "But we swore to serve the master of the precious." He said, feeling guilty. "No! Ashes and dust and thirst there is and pits, pits, pits. And Orcses, thousands of Orcses. And always the Great Eye watching. Watching." He said. He turned to the group that was distant before screaming and running off. You all followed, running after him. "Hey! Come back now! Come back! There! What did I tell you? He’s run off, the old villain. So much for his promises." Sam sighed. Gollum popped up behind a stone making you gasp in surprise. "This way. Follow me!" Gollum said. You and Sam exchanged a look, sighing before following the creature.

You ended up taking a break. "Why we stop?" Gollum asked, looking at you who was sitting upright against a rock with your eyes closed. "Y/n watches over us at night, she needs rest." Sam sighed. Your face was so peaceful when you rested. If only Aragorn was here, you'd probably be sleeping better. Your heart missed him terribly, every time you closed your eyes you could see him. "I think she misses him." Sam muttered looking at your sitting figure. "Elfie misses someone?" Gollum asked. "A friend..." Sam sighed. "She misses friend?" Gollum asked. "Yes." Frodo muttered. Frodo too, thought of Aragorn. He always felt some sort of levity when looking at you and Aragorn together. You two were the sliver of light in a very dark time. Truth be told, you didn't need rest. You wanted to see if there was another vision. Another hopeful message or outcome. Instead you were met with darkness and silence.

It took about thirty minutes before you sat up. Sam looked over. "Let's go." you muttered, clearly deep in thought. You followed Gollum through the mountains before finally seeing the Marshlands. "See! See! We’ve led you out. Hurry, Hobbitses, hurry! Very lucky we find you." Gollum said. Sam passed him. "Nice hobbit." Gollum said to Sam. Sam walked alongside you, accidently slipping his foot into the water. "Ooh! It’s a bog. He’s led us into a swamp!" Sam gasped. "Swamp. Yes, yes. Come master, we will take you on safe paths through the mist. Come hobbits come. Real quickly. I found it, I did. The way through the marshes. Orcs don’t use it, orcs don’t know it. They go round for miles and miles, come quickly, swift and quick as shadows we must be." Gollum said.

You walked for a while in silence, trying to listen to nature to be met with silence. This unsettled you to no end. Nature was always talkative. Never this silent. "I hate this place, it’s too quiet. There‘s been no sight nor sound of a bird for two days." Sam muttered. "No, no birdses to eat, no crunchable birdses. We are famished, yes! Famished we are, precious!" Gollum said before picking a worm up out out of the ground. He ate it making you gag. "Here." Frodo said, tossing him a piece of Lambas bread. He took it confused. "What does it eats? Is it tasty?" He asked. He at it before choking and spitting it out, making you all jump. "It tries to chokes us! We can’t eats Hobbit food! We must starve!" Gollum wailed. "Well, starve, then. And good riddance!" Sam huffed. You had put it together earlier why Frodo was so lenient to Gollum. He was terrified the ring was going to turn him into Gollum.

"Oh, cruel hobbit! It does not care if we be hungry. Does not care if we should die!" He cried as you went through your bag. You pulled out a jerky like food. You knew Aragorn had a tendency of leaving somethings in your bag and this was definitely his. "Not like Master. Master cares. Master knows. Yes, precious. Once it takes hold of us, it never lets go." Gollum said. He reached for the ring but you stopped him, handing him the food. "It's meat. Not something any of us eat, maybe you'll like it." You said. He looked at it, taking a small piece and eating it. He seemed to actually like it and you handed him the rest. "Elfies gives us good food. We thinks the elfies is good." He said. You sighed and stood up, pulling your backpack back onto you.

You all made your way through the swamp, Sam looking into the waters around you. "There are dead things, dead faces in the water." Sam said. You looked in the waters too, seeing the armor. "Elves... There are... Elves out here." you breathed. "All dead. All rotten. Elves and men and orcses. A great battle long ago. The dead marshes. Yes, yes that is their name. This way. Don’t follow the lights." Gollum warned. Sam slipped, nearly falling into a hole before you gripped his cloak, pulling him up. "Thank you." He breathed. "Careful now, or hobbits go down to join the dead ones and light little candles of their own." Gollum said, unsettling you. Frodo wandered off, looking into the waters. He saw an elven corpse. He leaned forward, falling into the water. You gasped, sprinting over and yanking him out of the water. Gollum stood next to you. "Gollum?" Frodo asked. "Don’t follow the lights." Gollum repeated, this time more sternly. "Gollum." Frodo called. "Mister Frodo, are you all right?" Sam asked. He nodded slowly.

Night soon came, you sitting against a rock with your eyes closed. You didn't actually fall asleep, despite feeling strangely tired you were very alert with Gollum near. "So bright. So beautiful. Our Precious." Gollum said, making you open one eye. Frodo leaned up. "What did you say?" Frodo asked. "Master should be resting. Master needs to keep up his strength." Gollum muttered. "Who are you?" Frodo asked him. "Mustn’t ask us, not it’s business." Gollum said before hacking again. "Gandalf told me you were one of the river folk." Frodo said. "Cold be heart and hand and bone, cold be travelers far from home." Gollum sang in what you assumed to be an attempt to block Frodo out. "He said your life was a sad story." Frodo said. "They do not see what lies ahead, when sun has failed and moon is dead." Gollum sang. "You were not so very different from a hobbit once. Were you? Sméagol." Frodo asked, earning silence from Gollum. "What did you call me?" Gollum asked. "That was your name once, wasn’t it? A long time ago." Frodo asked. "My name? My name? Ss… Ss… Sméagol." He asked, genuinely not recalling his own name.

The smell of blood filled your nose and you felt the dread. You leaned up, opening your eyes. "What's wrong?" Sam asked, groggily before the loud scream from a Nazgûl. "Black Riders." You muttered. "Hide! Hide!" Gollum yelled. Frodo let out a yelp, grasping where he was struck with the Nazgûl blade.

You hid under a bush with Sam and Gollum. You motioned for Frodo to run. "Come on Frodo, come on!" Sam called. "Hurry, they will see us, they will see us." Gollum said panicked. "I thought they were dead." Sam said to you as Frodo laid next to you. "You cannot kill a ringwraith." You whispered. You watched the wraith fly overhead, your heart pounding. "Ah! Wraiths, wraiths on wings!" Gollum yelped. You noticed Frodo reach for the ring. "They are calling for it, they are calling for the Precious." Gollum said. You stopped Frodo from putting the ring on. "We're still here Frodo... it's alright." You whispered. the Nazgul flew away. "Hurry hobbits, the Black Gate is very close." Gollum said after you all climbed out from under the bush.

You all walked, following Gollum before you fell again, this time being sent into a shock. You were practically blinded, a white light filling your eyes. You heard a voice, barely audible at first. Distant. Very distant. "Y/n" It called. You knew the person's voice you just couldn't remember. "Y/n." The voice repeated. "Rohan is in danger. This is the start of many wars, people need you. Turn back now." it said. "I can't." You whispered. "You can. Reach the river on your own. A boat is waiting. If you run without stopping you can make it before the orcs do." The voice said. Then you realized who it was.

"Gandalf, how are you speaking to me?" you asked. "I am not yet dead my girl." He said, his face coming to light. You breathed. "You want me to go to Rohan, why?" You asked. "Because the further into Mordor you go, the more corruption kills." He said. "The corruption is killing you. Why do you think you feel exhaustion?" Gandalf asked. A good question. "Aragorn needs you. Rohan needs you. We need you." Gandalf said before your vision returned to normal, Sam hanging over you.

"Are you alright? You just fell back! I was worried." Sam said. "Gandalf is still alive." You said. Frodo turned around. "What!?" He asked. "He's alive... War is coming to Rohan and... Something bad is happening, I can feel it." You breathed. You wondered if you should turn back. "Go." Frodo said. You looked up. "What?" You asked. "If there is war in Rohan and Gandalf is alive, it's most likely that Aragorn will be in the center of all of this. You deserve to be with him through all of this. Go." Frodo said. "But-" "Y/n, he's right. You should go, you've looked more exhausted here than anywhere else... This is destroying you. You don't think we can tell but we can." Sam admitted. You sighed. "Any messages you want me to send to them?" You asked. "Yes. Good luck." Frodo said. You nodded. "Elfie remembers the way?" Gollum asked. "I do. Thank you." you nodded to Gollum before tossing him the rest of the meat. He took it before you hugged both Sam and Frodo. "If you two weren't so damn stubborn, I would've marched into Mordor with you." you said. "We know." Sam said before hugging you again. "Don't let us down Frodo. Fight strong. Keep your hope." you said softly. He nodded before you turned around, looking at the area you just came from.

"Alright." You told yourself. "Here we go again."

#aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader

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elliemarchetti · 3 years

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If Need Be

At this point I don't know if it makes sense to anticipate everything with a brief description of the plot, but for all the possible new readers who will run into this chapter and for some strange reason haven’t seen the previous ones, this is the story of Elva, a half-elf of Mirkwood, leaving with the Fellowship in place of Legolas. The actual tale begins shortly after Gandalf's death, and it all centers around how Elva's presence impacts not only on the mission but on Haldir's life.

In this part, the Fellowship finally leaves Caras Galadhon to resume their Quest.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Words: 2448

In the morning, as they were beginning to pack their slender goods, some Elves went to Haldir’s talan to bring many gifts of food, mostly in the form of very thin cakes, made of a meal that was baked a light brown on the outside and inside was the colour of cream, and a hooded cloak.

"For someone who spends most of his time at the border, you are very popular," Elva commented, after thanking yet another visitor.

"They fear I may not come back, and they tell me that my brothers will be helped in every possible way,” the marchwarden explained. “These are lembas, or waybread, more strengthening than any food made by Men and more pleasant than the cram made in Dale. It must be eaten little at a time, for these things are given to serve when all else fails and will keep sweet for many days, if they’re unbroken and left in their leaf-wrappings.”

“Those are fair garments, though,” Aragorn commented, stroking the light but warm silken fabric, the same the Galadhrim and the court wove. It was hard to say of what colour they were, as they seemed to be grey with the hue of twilight under the trees and yet, if they were moved or set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves or brown as fallow fields by night; in the dusk, they looked like water under the stars, and even the brooch that fastened them, a green leaf, was veined with silver.

“They must be from the Lady,” guessed their host. “Yet, as you said, they are garments, not armours, and they won’t turn shaft or blade, only serve us well in staying out of the Enemy’s sight.”

"They seem to have done their work so far," Elva said, trying to cheer up the room and hinting that after all his wanderings he was still alive.

"Sure, and a considerable number of blades to the throat were also needed," he replied, after which silence fell, and was maintained as they walked through Caras Galadhon’s empty green streets. In the trees above them, many voices were murmuring and singing, and flashed of barely comprehensible words followed them to the lawn where the other members of the Fellowship waited and down the southward slopes of the hill, to the great gate hung with lamps until the white bridge, after which they took a path that went off into a deep thicket of mallorn trees and passed on, winding through rolling woodlands of silver shadow, leading them ever down, southwards and eastwards, to the shores of the River, laid in a shining lawn of grass studded with golden elanor that glinted in the sun. On the right and west the Silverlode flowed glittering and on the left and east the Great River rolled its broad waters, deep and dark, with woodlands still marching as far as eyes could see on the southwards shores, bleak and bare, as no mallorn lifted its gold-hung boughs beyond the Land of Lorien. On the bank of the Silverlode, at some distance up from the meeting of the streams, there were moored many boats and barges, some brightly painted, shining with silver, gold and green tones, and some either white or grey, like the three that had been prepared for the travellers. Haldir threw some coils of slender but strong rope in each, and Sam went to inspect the workmanship, similar to that of the cloaks they wore.

“They are made of hithlain,” their guide explained, anticipating his question. “Had I known this craft delighted you, I could’ve taught you much, but at the moment I think you’ll have to settle for a theoretical explanation during breaks.”

Sam seemed satisfied by the pact, and went to take his place with Frodo on the boat captained by Aragorn; Boromir thus settled for Merry and Pippin, and Haldir for Elva and Gimli, with whom he had most bonded during their stay in Lothlorien. The boats were moved and steered with short-handled paddles that had broad leaf-shaped blades. When all was ready, their guide led them on a trial up the Silverlode, where the current was swift and they went forward slowly. Sam sat in the bows, clutching the sides, and looking back wistfully to the shore, the sunlight glittering on the water dazzling his eyes. As they passed beyond the green field of the Tongue, the trees drew down to the river’s brink: here and there golden leaves tossed and floated on the rippling stream and the air was very bright and still, bringing only silence except for the high distant song of larks. They turned a sharp bend in the river, and there, sailing proudly down the stream towards them, they saw a swan of great size. The water rippled on either side of the white breast beneath its curving neck and its beak shone like burnished gold, while its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its huge white wings were half lifted, and suddenly they perceived that it was a ship, wrought and carved with elven-skill in the likeness of a bird. Two elves clad in white steered it with black paddles and in the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, with his wife behind him, tall and white, a crown of golden flowers in her hair and a harp in her hands. Sand and sweet was the sound of her voice in the cool clear air as she told the story of gold leave shook by the wind. As if the first vision of the Mirror had awakened in Elva an ancient memory that didn’t belonged to her, she too sang of Lorien’s first winter with bare and leafless trees, but she didn’t have the heart to finish, because it spoke of the departure beyond the Sea, of that journey that tasted like defeat and she could never face, even if she wanted to. Haldir stayed his boat as the Swan-ship drew alongside, so the Lady could tell them she had come to bid their last farewell and to speed their boats with blessings from her land. The half-elf wasn’t quite sure their intentions were that noble, but she said nothing, and ate lunch with the royals on the grass, as Celeborn suggested, speaking again of their journey.

“As you go down the water,” said the Lord, “you’ll find that the trees will fail, and you’ll come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony vales amid high moors, until at last after many leagues come the sheep shores of the tall island of Tindrock, that we call Tol Brandir. With great noise and smoke, the waters fall over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf, the Wetwang, as it’s called in your tongue.; that is a wide region of sluggish fen, where the stream becomes tortuous and much divided and the Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About that stream, on this side of the Great River, lies Rohan, while on the further side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the black gates of Mordor. Boromir, and any that go with him seeking Minas Tirith, will do well to leave the Great River above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds the marshes. Yet they shouldn’t go too far up that stream, nor risk becoming entangled in the Forest of Fangorn, a strange, little known land, but doubtless, you don’t need this warning.”

“Indeed we have heard of Fangorn in Minas Tirith,” replied the person most concerned. “But what I’ve heard seems to me for the most part old wives’ tales, such as we tell to our children. All that lies north to Rohan is now to us so far away that fancy can wander freely there, but it’s now many lives of men since any of us visited it to prove or disprove the legends that have come down from distant years. Anyway, I have myself been at whiles in Rohan, but I’ve never crossed it northwards, although, when I was sent out as a messenger, I passed through the Gap by the skirts of the White Mountains, and crossed the Isen and the Greyflood into Northerland. A long and wearisome journey it was, four hundred leagues I reckoned it, and it took me many months, for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at the fording of the Greyflood. After that and the road I have trodden with this Company, I don’t much doubt I shall find a way through Rohan, and Fangorn too, if need be.”

“Then I need say no more!” exclaimed Celeborn. “But don’t despise the lore that has come down from distant years, for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.”

At those advice, Galadriel rose from the grass and taking a cup from one of her maidens she filled it with white mead and gave it to her husband.

“Now it’s time to drink for our farewell,” she said, and when they had all done as she commanded, chairs were set for her and Celeborn. For a while she looked upon her guests, but at last, she called each in turn, offering them gifts, starting from Aragorn, whom she addressed as the leader of the Fellowship, giving him a great stone clear green in colour, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings.

“This was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land; I gave it to my daughter Celebrian and she gave it to hers, and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!”

Aragorn took the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and those who saw him wondered how they hadn’t noticed before how tall and kingly he stood: “For the gift that you have given me I thank you, Lady of Lorien of whom were sprung Celebrian and Arwen Evenstar. What praise could I say more?”

The Lady bowed her head, and she turned to Boromir, giving him a belt of gold, similar to the silver ones Merry and Pippin received; to Elva, she gave a bow such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows, while Sam received no weapons or wealth, but only a little box of plain grey wood, unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the lid, filled with earth from Galadriel’s orchard: “It won’t defend you against any peril, but if you keep it and see your home again at last, then perhaps it may reward you. Though you should find all barren and laid waste, there will be few gardens in Middle-earth that will bloom like yours, then you may remember Galadriel, and catch a glimpse far off of Lorien, that you have seen only in our Winter, for our Spring and our Summer are gone by, and they will never be seen on earth again save in memory.”

Sam went red to the ears and muttered something inaudible, as he clutched the box and bowed as well as he could.

“And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves? ” said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.

“It’s enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words,” he replied, courteous.

“Hear all ye Elves!” she cried to those around her. “Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.”

“There’s nothing, Lady Galadriel,” said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. “Nothing, unless it might be permitted to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I don’t ask for such a gift, but you commanded me to name my desire.”

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. “It’s said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues, yet that is untrue of Gimli,” she said. “And how shall I refuse, since I commanded you to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?”

“Treasure it, Lady” he answered, “in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.”

So the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, cut off three golden hairs and laid them in Gimli’s hand: “These words shall go with the gift: I don’t foretell, for all foretelling is now vain with darkness lying on one hand and only hope in the other, but if hope shouldn’t fail, then I say to you that you hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.”

Then she addressed Frodo, and gave him a small crystal phial, glittering with rays of white light from the Earendil’s star as she moved it: “May it guide you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”

Lastly, she looked at Haldir, giving him a sheath made to fit his sword, overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold: “The blade drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat,” she said, leading Elva to question again what their guide might’ve seen in the Mirror. Were those words a hidden condemnation? She couldn’t know, and after the gift that had been given to her, she couldn’t ask too. Haldir bowed, but found no words to say, so the Lady arose, and the yellow noon laid on the green land of the Tongue accompanied their last farewell, for so it seemed to them that Lorien was slipping backward, like a bright ship with enchanted trees, sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of the grey and leafless world.

#haldir of lothlorien #haldir x fem oc #aragorn #arwen #aragorn x arwen #sam gamgee #boromir #frodo baggins #merry brandybuck #pippin took #gimli son of gloin #galadriel #celeborn #galadriel x celeborn #lotr #the fellowship of the ring

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