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itsonlydana · 2 months

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"passenger princess" | chapter two

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,2k

❱ summary: meeting Thranduil; memories of first and past encounters

❱ warnings: alcohol, the usual swearing and bantering

❱ an: first look at the dadd.. father Thranduil! What do we think? hehe :)

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER TWO: THRANDUIL

Thranduil's appearance shouldn't have surprised you that much, he was Legolas' father after all and owned the very table you sat at.

But here you were; hands clenched in your lap as you drank in the glorious sight of him.

Thranduil Oropherion took your breath away every time you saw him and now that you were slightly drunk and already caught unguarded more than ever.

As CEO of his law firm, he usually never drove home before midnight, so seeing him at a relatively early hour - a good quarter hour before 11 - was unusual.

On other occasions, when you found yourself at Legolas' place at a later hour, he would make a modest effort at conversation but promptly excuse himself to retire to his rooms.

Today, the man in front of you looked quite chipper, his sharp eyes wandered through the round before it lingered on you.

"You were far from getting her," Thranduil mocked his son, "or she wouldn't have lost interest so quickly. Though I doubt it had ever been there, had it?" He smirked.

You blushed under his gaze, which stayed on you as he slowly unbuttoned his long black coat with long and nimble fingers; it brought a diziness that wiped out everything in your mind.

"All tactics, Thranduil," you blurted out, though your voice threatened to break away.

Quickly, you took a sip of your now lukewarm beer. It did not help whatssoever.

After swallowing, you tipped the bottle toward the board, "When his mind is on his ego, he doesn't play quite as well and well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't take complete advantage of that?"

At the indignant "Hey!" of your best friend, Thranduil laughed gravelly and warmly. "Very good tactics- you're such a clever girl."

Oh god.

His praise hit you right in the heart and before you could control yourself, the blood rushed hot to your cheeks.

You nodded, because now you knew you couldn't trust your voice.

With a dry throat, even though you had just finished drinking, you watched as he stripped off his coat, revealing one of those perfectly fitted brown suits that drove you crazy.

No ones Dad should be allowed to look this hot, right?

But of course, here he was; looking exactly what you imagined model agencies were after.

Legolas had to have gotten his looks from somewhere and one look was sufficient to pin point exactly from who.

They had the same long blonde hair, though Thranduil's flowed down his back like molten silver while Legolas embodied the warmth of sunshine in his blond strands.

Their features mirrored each other as well, from the enchanting light blue eyes to the dark eyebrows and prominent cheekbones, though then there were Thranduil's lips, tinged with a rosy hue, that, when curled into a smile, not only lit up his whole face but every cell in your body as well.

He was a total DILF, a more refined version of his equally beautiful son and wouldn't you've had befriended Legolas and met his father, you're sure that you would have become on of Las's admirers.

And oh Thranduil's height played into his imposing figure as well, around 6,5' tall and built with broad shoulders that flexed under his white shirt, tightening it as he folded his arms behind his back and walked toward your little round.

Unconsciously, your head moved along with his relaxed steps, following the swing of his hips and the casualty with which he loosened the tie around his neck. You admired him for his sauntering, no matter how he walked, how he stood and how he sat, he radiated an incomparable elegance.

He came to a stop right behind you, propped one hand on the back of your chair to lean down slightly, and you took in a cloud of his senses-thrilling perfume, rich and noble and underneath the smell of just him.

Leaning lightly against his fingers, you sensed the pressure of the rings adorning his slender hands against your back, prompting you to automatically straighten up.

If someone else behaved like you, the fawning, the blushing, gods– the giggling and utterly nonsense you could ramble whenever Thranduil was close, you would have called them completely ridiculous and a lovesick fool.

It had taken a lot of effort to face what your body, your heart, your soul and your whole being demanded.

That it was the father of your best friend hadn't necessarily made it easier for you.

The first time you met Thranduil Oropherion was at the end of the second semester, on a night that, while seeming ordinary, marked a turning point in your life.

It was mid-February, the day of your last exam before the semester break. An exam with Professor Sauron on the last day—seriously, who came up with such sadistic ideas?

Frustrated, you decided the only logical solution was to hit your favorite bar.

The cozy joint quickly filled up with your fellow students. Fast forward a few hours, and there you were, getting schooled by Aragorn in Beer Pong, winning a drinking contest against Gimli, and belting out "Mr. Brightside" with Legolas on karaoke. Looking back, it had to be one of your finest performances. The two of you would get compliments for "rocking that shit" that never really ended.

So, none of you were in any shape to catch the usual bus back home.

Surprisingly, even Aragorn, who usually doesn't party to the point of a near coma like you, was holding his own with the beer. Plus, there wasn't enough cash left for a cab.

You pushed the problem aside until the bar shut off the music in the wee hours, and the remaining patrons were tossed into the night.

Confronted with the cold February air, you had to make a quick decision; none of you wanted to spend the semester break sick in bed.

So, Legolas, after fumbling with his cell phone and struggling to find the right number in his contacts, called his father.

It was only after the short call, in which Legolas slurred a "See you soon, Ada," that you thought about whether you had just woken the man up.

Although Legolas assured you several times how little his father slept and that he had likely been working, you couldn't help but worry about your first encounter with your best friend's father.

The few details you had managed to extract from the blonde, who had fallen asleep on your shoulder, were that he's "totally cool as long as I don't barve over the seats" and that his name was Thranduil.

It was a name that now rolled smoothly over your tongue, strange and enticing, and that he wasn't just a lawyer but owned an entire law firm, "the one that took down that one asshole, y'know?"

Knowing Legolas, his grades and the level of intelligence he had whenever he wasn't in love or drunk, it made sense that his father had cared a great deal about his education.

That you felt sick to your stomach and nervous about meeting the man was an understatement. There was a part in you that was ready to run into the night as to avoid meeting your best friends father drunk and barely dressed; and that for the first time.

A man so firm in his attitudes about work and education surely had no joy in picking up his son, drunk as hell, in the middle of the night or playing cab driver for his equally drunk friends.

Those thoughts vanished as soon as a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of the sidewalk and he stepped out.

He could've been Legolas older brother by the looks of them.

Adorned, as usual, in impeccably coordinated slacks and a crisply pressed shirt, this time in a striking bordeaux hue, Thranduil exuded a forbiddingly handsome presence.

The long platinum hair framed his face, pulled up into a ponytail, and his piercing eyes thoroughly surveyed you as he stepped out.

Even if your ass was freezing off on the stone, you were glad to be sitting down. Your legs had turned into jelly as you peared up.. and up and up those long legs.

His first words caught you off guard.

You had expected a lecture about your drinking habits or a mocking comment along the lines of: "partied a little too hard, did we?"

However, the first thing Thranduil said was a warm, "You'll catch your death out there, hop in!" before ushering you into the car.

Wrapped in a surprisingly cozy blanket he provided, you sat in the passenger seat moments after loading a still-dozing (and very much drooling) Legolas into the back seat with Gimli and Aragorn. It wasn't a long drive, but the heated seats and the exhaustion of the day quickly lulled the boys into a sleep you couldn't share.

Determined to stay awake, to make a good impression on Thranduil, you wanted to talk to him and thank him for the ride.

Somehow, you couldn't manage to open your mouth. Instead, it was he who broke the silence with a lowered voice at a red light.

"You must be the woman Legolas won't stop talking about," he stated, your name rolling off his tongue, and at your nod, he smirked. "Legolas has told me so much about you that I wondered when I might finally meet you."

Your eyes were glued to the man at the wheel, not just because of his handsome face and the way he pronounced your name. The last part would have you swooning, wondering how your own name could sound so... sensual on anyones lips.

It was easy to fall into conversation with him after that, even if the beginning was a bit bumpy on your part due to sobering up. You may have forgotten what seminars you took and completly got off road babbling about the books you needed to read, that didn't matter though.

Thranduil listened to you, looked at you, and responded to your stories and opinions with such interest and wit that something in you was released, something that would stay with you for a long time.

He did it a lot now, watching you, looking at you and like, really looking at you with his cerulean eyes that broke through every wall you've ever built around yourself.

It was clear from the beginning that this wasn't some boy like the ones you went on dates with before.

He was a man who showed his interest in what you had to say and what you thought because he was interested in you and not because he wanted to get into your pants.

While Thranduil wasn't always there, making himself sparse whenever the four of you got too loud for him or giving you the freedom to use the house as a second home, those moments where he did join you left an even greater indent in your heart that slowly carved a Thranduil-sized shape into the muscle.

Take last winter for example.

Christmas was coming closer every day, bringing with it the usual hustle of cramming in study sessions for the last exams to be taken while trying to work through the bullet list of activities that Legolas had planned.

They were more meticulous and even color coordinated which made a fine example of his study habits when you tried to quiz him on one of the many topics and all he could list was when and where the first Christmas markets would open. He hadn't even bothered to fake taking an interest in studying.

You loved him, very much so but he tested your skills on holding back and smacking him so much that you needed to get up and get out of the living room. Gimli and he would be alright if you left them alone for a second. Surely.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the high entrance hall as you sat down on the stairs, shuffling through the flashcards you'd prepared in the hopes of getting at least some of the information into your overflowing, mushed brain.

At this point, your head must have been steaming, stuffed full with dates and people doing this because of that, and the historical development of words that you needed to explain other words– it went on and on, building up to a scarily high stack of cards and notes.

You just made yourself as comfortable as one could, perched on one of the steps, leaned against the wall, and feet crossed at the ankles and your back hunched over one of the cards, as one of the doors upstairs opened and closed, followed by footsteps and then, an amused huff.

"Why am I not surprised to find one of you doing yoga on the stairs?"

You snapped up, a sharp sting zipping through you at the sudden movement and you winced, glancing up to the top of the stairs.

"Yoga? Why the hell– sorry, shit.."

Then, your feelings for Thranduil had been simmering on high heat, a new development of the crush that slowly but surely grew out of control.

There was a duality tearing you in two different directions.

1. he was still Mister Oropherion, Legolas's father, a respectable man in society (after the first meeting you had frantically googled him, lying under the stuffy blanket in your dorm and tried to find out as much as you could through newspaper articles and zooming into pictures) and he radiated power, influence.

2. He was Thranduil as well, loving and caring not just to his son but to his friends as well, always making time after a long day at work to ask how you all were and if you needed anything. He drove you around whenever none of you could anymore, he laughed at your jokes and teased, smirking at you, watching you over the rim of his reading glasses…

How were you supposed to act around him if not like a total fool?

Thranduil raised a hand to his mouth and pressed his thumb against his lip which obviously twitched into an amused smile at your attempt to sort out this situation.

"That position you were in just now resembled one I did in my morning yoga course this morning," Thranduil explained as he made his way down, stopping two steps behind you.

"Yoga," you repeated quite horse at the mental image of this man twisting his long body– no no no this was not what should occupy your mind right now, most definitely not.

"However, I see I was incorrect," he continued and nodded the tip of his chin down at the flashcards. "Not as much fun as yoga."

You made a sound somewhere between a distressed wail and laughter. "No this is so much fun, actually. I think I'm having too much fun; nothing else I wanna do other than burn the reasoning for a man doing whatever into this nuggin'"

And while you were alright at it, you knocked your own palm against your forehead, hoping that it would delete some useless information out of there to make room.

It did nothing of the sorts, why would your head cooperate for once in your lifetime exactly when Thranduil was taking another step, right over you and sat down on your other side– one step lower.

The height difference allowed him to have an inch on you nonetheless, presenting you with a close-up of his jawline and the ivory curve of his neck and shoulder line that peeked under his cashmere sweater.

"C'mon," he said and held out his hand.

Your brain was short-circuiting, running hot trying to figure out if you should take it with your hand.

Thranduil chuckled and reached over, taking the stack of cards out of the tight grip of your hands that loosened at the brush of fingertips against skin.

He shuffled through them as well, looking over your handwriting and that alone felt so much more intimate than anything else he had ever done.

Here he was, sitting next to you, his eyes following the brush of your pen and you wondered if he saw the sharp slants of the t's and the dots on the i's and if there was a universe where he thought about his name in your handwriting.

He must have said something for suddenly he lifted his head and looked at you, still staring.

His eyes, the brightest of blue, wandered back and forth on your face, moving and examining and though you were scared he was figuring it out, putting puzzle pieces together that revealed a picture of your desire, you couldn't find it in you to look away.

You imagined kissing him. Press your mouth against those soft and pink lips and finally get it done and over with.

You blinked.

And drew back first.

Thranduil's head inclined the tiniest bit, a quizzing glance in his last glance before he cleared his throat and leaned back against the wall. The winter sun warmed your cheeks and the fuzzy socks on your feet knocked against the banister as you situated yourself again.

This was alright.

Not the right time for kissing your best friend's father but spending time with him filled that part in you that arched for the slightest ounce of attention that he could spare.

And if this was studying in their hallway, you would be alright.

"So… please explain to me what happened in the year–"

"Things don't seem to be in your favor," Thranduil remarked in the present as he examined the board.

Meanwhile, Gimli, who had momentarily slipped your mind in the haze of thoughts about him and the pleasant warmth coursing through your body from both him and the alcohol, burst into laughter.

"Well," you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look away from Thranduil and back at the table.

You didn't have to look at your friends to see the smirk on their faces.

At first, you had wanted to keep your secret to yourself, but damn Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and the evening after one of the harder exams that had loosened your tongue and pulled at your words bit by bit until all your insides poured out, just like the tears that came from finally being able to share this part of you.

Now you had to live with the consequences, the wagging eyebrows whenever Thranduil said something, the giggling as if you were ten and not in your twenties, and if that wasn't frustrating enough, the three of them conspired in a manner that they could disappear as soon as they had to chance to leave you and Thranduil alone.

You searched for your voice for a moment: "Who knows how the game will turn out? I've been clinging for what feels like an eternity to this money and the few rents I can collect. After all, these idiots ripped off street after the other."

"You brought this on yourself," Aragorn replied, rolling the dice.

You hadn't noticed Legolas' move at all, and from the grins on the faces of the three of them, dread gripped you as you anticipated something truly mischievous.

"What have you... Legolas!" you almost shrieked when you saw his rider on your street. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked aloud, glaring angrily into the round, only to have cheeky-looking faces flashing back at you.

Aragorn started to walk his figure, but you leaned far over the table, grabbing his wrist with one hand. "No.. no, that doesn't count! We were on a break!" you tried to complain but got no encouragement.

Nice friends you had chosen.

Not even Aragorn, who usually took no sides, now raised his shoulders in a quick shrug.

"I said I'm gonna continue," Legolas sang. You saw his lips continue to speak, but the words sounded muffled in your ears, "It's not our fault if you were distracted"

This pure audacity.

The disrespect.

The nerve of this blonde headed idiot!

You wanted to scream, you wanted to shake the mirk out of his face, but all you did was nail him to the chair with a pointed stare.

To no avail.

The guy was building up immunity to that scarily fast. In no time soon, you would need to find another way to shut him up.

The blood burned your face as you let yourself fall backward.

Not the smartest idea, because as soon as your back made contact with Thranduil's hand, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sound that didn't escape the man behind you.

The only thing you could think of to somehow save yourself from the situation was to cross your arms in front of your chest desperately.

Like a defiant child, you pushed your lower lip forward and jutted your chin up. "Alright, let's play unfair."

Behind you, Thranduil smirked.

His breath hit your cheeks hotly as he leaned down to your height all at once, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. "No matter how you play, dirty or not, destroy them for me, okay sweetheart?"

As if his proximity wasn't already the catalyst for the endorphin explosion and clouding your perception of everything else but him, the way the pet name 'sweetheart' rolled loosely over his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

Fuck, you were so fucked.

"Of course," you managed to bring out just barely.

Your voice had jumped up the scale so far it could have been a squeak. If you tried to think about why he'd unpacked that pet name out of the blue, your brain would probably have gone up in smoke.

Or you would have gone crazy.

Neither seemed like a really promising option and so you played it cool, throwing him a smile and then reaching for the dice.

You felt Thranduil straighten up again, heard the soft rustle of his fine suit pants, and forced yourself to concentrate on moving your figure along and placing it, thank heavens, to a prison visiting field.

"You're home early, Ada," mumbled Legolas, a handful of sour gummy worms between his teeth as his sticky fingers accepted the dice.

Behind you, Thranduil now propped himself up with both hands on your backrest, his tall figure casting a shadow on the board in front of you in the dim light of the kitchen, making your thoughts, as well as your breath, catch.

He was so much taller than you, his shadow engulfing yours completely.

"Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to see my son after a long week at work?" he asked, and for a moment you thought you felt his thumb brush your shoulder blades.

But the feathery touch disappeared so quickly that you weren't sure it had even been there.

"Ay, I'd rather have stayed at work then," interjected Gimli as he slid a few bills to Aragorn and exchanged them for a road, "Seeing Las shitfaced is not a pretty sight" He laughed, though Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Or seeing him in general," you interjected. Again all your bones vibrated at Thranduil's laughter.

Then a dull pain ran through you and, gasping, you looked under the table where Legolas was just pulling his leg back. "You little shit!" you gasped, but the blonde only stuck his tongue out at you.

"My Lady," Aragorn slid the dice to you, probably just in time before Legolas and you erupted into another discussion.

"I'll be in the living room in the meantime if anyone is looking for me. And please," Thranduil's tone made you tilt your head back in your neck so you could look up at him. He looked at one after the other of you "it would be very nice if I didn't run into another one of you half-naked in the morning," he spoke and his eyebrows shot up at Gimli who promptly toasted him with the bottle.

"Of course, Mr. O! In the future, I will not present Mother Nature's gifts until lunchtime."

Thranduil rolled his eyes with a grin and turned away from your group.

In the corner of your eye, you followed him, watching as he disappeared around the corner to the living room.

The room remained silent, music extracted, and as you looked to your friends, you heaved a sigh. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"I don't know what about," Gimli asked, looking to Legolas "Do you know what she might mean Las?"

Legolas shook his head, one shoulder raised "I haven't the faintest idea. Aragorn?"

"Can't think of anything."

Grateful and relieved, you smiled at your boys.

"It's not like it's a big deal that your so down bad for my dad," Legolas interjected as casually as if he wasn't throwing your biggest secret into the room.

A room that was adjacent to the living room.

Your blood ran hot and hold.

"Legolas!" you hissed and paid him back with a well-deserved kick under the table.

Your heart was pounding up to your throat, Thranduil was sitting right there, next door, and Legolas was running his mouth? What was he thinking?

"What?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

Unbothered, Legolas threw another gummy worm into his mouth, "C'mon, it's true."

"Oh my god, sure. He.. he shouldn't, no he can't know it though!"

To your surprise, Legolas giggled, "You can't make this up, guys," and Gimli joined in with laughter; even Aragorn hid his laughter behind a hand.

It seemed like you were out of the loop as if the joke had sailed right past you.

The only way the situation could have worsened was if Thranduil had emerged from the living room to share a laugh with the guys about whatever you had clearly overlooked.

Yeah, that would be the tip of the evening, Thranduil laughing in your face over the stupid crush you had.

"Oh, my dear friend," Aragorn leaned over to you, patting your thigh affectionately, "Someday, when you stop putting yourself in the way, you will finally see how the tides can turn."

Your eyebrows shot up questioningly, "Aragorn, I love you, you know that? But no more riddles, no more dallying. Let's just finish this game before I scream."

"Like we're the ones dilly-dallying around," you heard Legolas mutter into his bottle, but you didn't have the motivation to bring up the subject again, and with a roll of the dice you threw everyone else back into action as well.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction

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gatzilksis-2 · 6 months

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Recent true fart experience #1:

My boyfriend and I went on a road trip to a city a few hours away. I still haven't told him about my fetish. He hasn't farted around me much, only in his sleep or by accident a couple times.

His friends are all guys, and the group talks about the farts of two friends in particular. I'll call them D & L. D looks like a chubby, hairy Hobbit, with a beard and round glasses. L is tall and fit, pale with pretty eyes, light brown hair, and a very nice ass. (My boyfriend knows I find him hot.)

This road trip included myself, my boyfriend, D, L, and my boyfriend's other two friends (who I don't really care for). Two of us to each vehicle, so no farts on the way.

The first thing we did was a music museum. The two friends I don't like drifted off while myself, my boyfriend, D, and L stayed together. We were in a dark room of the museum when I smelled a powerful fart. I looked up to see D and L covering their laughter.

"Who did it?" My boyfriend asked.

L raised his hand while D pointed at him. I'd always heard bigger asses made better farts. This was apparently true of L.

We all met up to eat halfway through the museum, going outside to a barbecue food truck. D and L, ever in sync, both got pulled pork sandwiches with pickles.

L finished first, then D finished and stood, stepping to the edge of the table with his butt facing the open air. He sighed, and his gas was caught by a breeze. I learned D's farts smelled somewhat like breakfast sausage, while L's were more sour and green. The whole table hollered at the unexpected wave of stink. D said, "I was trying to do it away from the table!"

We commenced the museum exploration, ending in the massive gift shop with too many souvenir options. My boyfriend had to use the restroom, so I stayed with D and L. As we walked through the gift shop, I found myself cropdusted, multiple farts layered on top of each other, following behind L. When we stopped to look at shirts, D whistled and pushed up his glasses. "That pork got ya, huh?"

We got done at the museum and left, separating to our different vehicles to head to the hotel.

We checked into the hotel and brought our stuff in. The six of us boarded the elevator, my boyfriend joking that we'd be too heavy for it. When it went up, L made his own joke, "Six big guys in an elevator after barbecue. What could go wrong?"

No one farted, unfortunately. Not in the elevator, at least. As soon as we got into the room, L farted across the suite, and D responded with his own short quack.

"Not already!" yelled one of the ones I don't like. Party pooper.

"I might have to shit." L paced to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the fan on. The rest of us unpacked and arranged our stuff. L came out with a hand on his little pudgy belly. "False alarm. Just echoing farts in the bowl."

I laughed with the rest of them.

We left the hotel, again separately, this time for mini-golf where they brought you alcohol and food. We were on teams, split the same way as the vehicles. D took one of his turns, L standing beside him. Again, a fart was caught on the wind.

"Aw, who was that?" asked the other one I don't like, fanning his nose.

I blurted that it was D, because I knew exactly how his farts smelled. Everyone had a signature.

"How'd you know?" D asked me.

I played it cool and shrugged. "I guessed."

The alcohol came, and then the food. L ordered extreme nachos while D ordered a huge flatbread pizza. L was done with his first and threw back his beer. "That'll be bad later."

"Gee, I can't wait to sleep next to you," said D with heavy sarcasm.

"You know you love it," L teased D. Isn't it just awesome when great farters say shit like that?

We left mini-golf late and returned to the hotel to work out sleeping arrangements. My boyfriend and I took the pullout couch, only a couple feet removed from the bed of D and L.

The two I didn't like were in the other bed, all the way across the room. As soon as we were all in bed, L threw the covers off himself and cranked out a huge fart. Everyone laughed, until D smelled it and yelled "Oh God!" in a laughing manner.

The smell reached me, the same as L's prior farts but accentuated by the loaded nachos and beer. "Damn!"

"That sounded wet," chuckled D.

"I promise it's dry," said L.

There was a long lull of silence, covering several minutes. L flipped over in the bed and pushed his nice ass up in the air. He ripped another loud one, several seconds long.

"Oh no!" D's giggle made me laugh.

The second fart layered over the first.

"You're gonna suffocate us!" whined one of the other ones. He was joking, but ugh. You know? "This room already isn't big enough for six pairs of lungs."

Nerd.

"Here you go." D flipped over in the bed, ass pointed at L. His fart came out in three little parps.

"Can we go to sleep?" asked the other boring one.

"We're gonna knock each other out." L chuckled and slapped D a high-five.

"Very mature," Mr. Boring replied.

There was a long period with almost no noise. I usually fell asleep to a TV, but the boring twins requested silence.

A sudden fart made me jump, and L was laughing again. My boyfriend was snoring, the others were quiet, and D and I quietly laughed.

In the morning, I woke to the smell of L's morning shit emanating from the bathroom.

And unfortunately, we went home separately. I haven't seen D and L since, but they're my boyfriend's best friends so I'll definitely see them more. Hoping for more gas 🤞

#eproctophilia #farts #gatzilksis #eprocto #fart kink #flatulence #fart fiction #fart stories #male fart fiction #male fart stories

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seagull-energy · 7 months

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BUCKLE UP, FOLKS, IT'S TIME FOR SOME BIG THOUGHTS ABOUT SEPTEMBER 29THS NEWSLETTER ENTRY! (this took so long omg, I got very busy) VERY long post incoming.

First of all, the entire barrow scene is INCREDIBLY creepy, but I want to highlight this bit in particular:

'What in the name of wonder?' began Merry, feeling the golden circlet that had slipped over one eye. Then he stopped, and a shadow came over his face, and he closed his eyes. 'Of course, I remember!' he said. 'The men of Carn Dûm came on us at night, and we were worsted. Ah! the spear in my heart!' He clutched at his breast. 'No! No!' he said, opening his eyes. 'What am I saying? I have been dreaming. Where did you get to, Frodo?'

Hey, what's happening here??? Is Merry being possessed by the unhoused spirit of a man of Arnor?? This is another one of those things that is just dropped in, never explained, and then moved past and it's REALLY SCARY.

Then, does this line remind anyone else of Macbeth? Specifically the scene where he sees the line of Banquo's descendants. Like, compare these two texts:

The hobbits did not understand his words, but as he spoke they had a vision as it were of a great expanse of years behind them, like a vast shadowy plain over which there strode shapes of Men, tall and grim with bright swords, and last came one with a star on his brow.

A show of eight kings, the eighth king with a glass in his hand, and Banquo last. MACBETH Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former. [...] A fourth? Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to th’ crack of doom? Another yet? A seventh? I’ll see no more. And yet the eighth appears who bears a glass Which shows me many more, and some I see That twofold balls and treble scepters carry.

Obviously it's not a one-to-one comparison, but the Vibes are similar. (The use of the phrase 'crack of doom' in the Macbeth passage is also interesting, although I think that's probably a coincidence rather than anything else) LotR obviously has other well-known Macbeth connections, but this is one I only just noticed. (I really hope this comes off as similar to someone else and I'm not just coming up with nonsense)

As soon as his back was turned, a dark figure climbed quickly in over the gate and melted into the shadows of the village street.

I LOVE THIS MOMENT because reading it for the first time, anyone's first assumption is that this is going to be a Black Rider, but (spoilers) IT'S NOT! What a brilliant little subversion!

Frodo, Pippin, and Sam decided to join the company. Merry said it would be too stuffy. 'I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit, and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and don't forget that you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!'

If only they'd listened to Merry... I feel like Merry's practicality and good sense gets overlooked a lot. In these early chapters his status as 'most well traveled of the group' really comes across

Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits.

Words cannot express how much I love this description (and Strider's introduction as a whole)

There is an inn, a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill, And there they brew a beer so brown That the Man in the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill. [...]

*The Cat and the Moon from the LotR musical starts blasting in my head*

And now... the Aragorn list... (my thoughts are in list format because otherwise I will just be pasting large chunks of the entry here, and I've already done enough of that)

what was he doing behind the hedge on the Road???

"I slipped over the gate just behind them." and there's the payoff to that spooky moment earlier!!! It goes from 'oooh a Black Rider might have followed them' to 'nope, it was actually just this dude who wants to help them' to 'OH SHIT THE BLACK RIDERS WERE ALREADY HERE' a little later. Good stuff :D

"a secret that concerned me and my friends" I'm curious which friends he means here. Probably the Dunedain, maybe the sons of Elrond as well? Anyway, it's a fun little note

Okay now I need to break the list format because WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT ARAGORN'S RELATIONSHIP WITH THE RIDERS

'[...] They will come on you in the wild, in some dark place where there is no help. Do you wish them to find you? They are terrible!' The hobbits looked at him, and saw with surprise that his face was drawn as if with pain, and his hands clenched the arms of his chair. The room was very quiet and still, and the light seemed to have grown dim. For a while he sat with unseeing eyes as if walking in distant memory or listening to sounds in the Night far away.

So uh, Aragorn doesn't just know OF the Riders, he knows the Riders. He's obviously speaking from experience here, and iirc this is never expanded upon. What happened between them? And when did it happen?

'[...]I am afraid my only answer to you, Sam Gamgee, is this. If I had killed the real Strider, I could kill you. And I should have killed you already without so much talk. If I was after the Ring, I could have it – NOW!' He stood up, and seemed suddenly to grow taller. In his eyes gleamed a light, keen and commanding. Throwing back his cloak, he laid his hand on the hilt of a sword that had hung concealed by his side. They did not dare to move. Sam sat wide-mouthed staring at him dumbly. 'But I am the real Strider, fortunately,' he said, looking down at them with his face softened by a sudden smile. 'I am Aragorn son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will.'

Chills. I love him. So much. Also, SURPRISE! It's art time!!

[ID: A digital drawing of Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. He has pale skin and shoulder length dark brown hair. He is wearing a brown quilted vest, brown trousers, a cream shirt with puffy sleeves, and a dark green cloak. He is looking slightly down and to his left (image right). His left hand is resting on his chest and his right hand is resting on a sword belted at his waist. The drawing has dark, blue-gray lighting and the background is a rough blue-gray rectangle. /end id]

Andddd now for one more thought: there is no mention of him having a second sword, which implies that his ONLY WEAPON in these DANGEROUS TIMES is just the shards of Narsil. Unhinged behavior, I love that for him

Moving on from Aragorn now! (although I will have many more things to say about him later)

'[the Black Rider] seemed to make off up the Road, eastward,' continued Merry. 'I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once; but I went round the corner and on as far as the last house on the Road.'

MERRY. WTF. Okay so this is 1) extremely brave and 2) not actually a terrible idea in theory. Trying to find out where the Rider was going and what it was doing would be smart, IF IT WASN'T ONE OF THE ENEMY'S MOST DANGEROUS SERVANTS THAT SHOULD BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS

[Merry said] "I could hardly help myself. I seemed to be drawn somehow."

FORESHADOWING????? Actually looking at both this and the thing with the wights that I talked about at the beginning of this ramble, merry actually has a pretty strong link with the wraiths from the beginning, which is INTERESTING!

Okay I think that's everything I wanted to say. I'm so sad this took me so long to write because now there's been a whole WEEK of entries that I haven't talked about or done art for :((( Weathertop at least will probably get some love at some point, but rn my art brain is telling me to draw the entire cast of the musical so we'll see how I balance things :)

#lotr #lotr newsletter #seagull.thoughts #seagull.art

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itariilles · 2 years

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The Elves From Episodes 1 & 2 Of The Rings of Power

On the 30th I was lucky enough to attend the world premiere of The Rings of Power. This means that I've had some time to sit down and process some of my thoughts regarding how certain thematic elements were addressed in the show, from the adaptation of textual themes, to the altering of themes to better fit the narrative the show is attempting to portray.

Specifically, how the elven characters were portrayed. The breakdown of my thoughts have been included below the text break with commentary and context from various texts. I've limited myself to the published Silmarillion, LOTR and The Hobbit, and Unfinished Tales as I don't have the capacity at the moment to delve into additional contexts from Histories of Middle-earth.

Disclaimer: this is my opinion, and my opinion only. While I am trying my best to be fair in my critique, one has to remember that this is a show produced and streamed on Amazon with a 1 billion dollar budget — the highest of any TV production in history. I am also basing my critique on the first two episodes only, meaning that there is much more to come, but I still believe that there are themes worth talking about that were established in the first two episodes that will likely reoccur over the duration of Season 1 if not the whole show.

@silmarillionwritersguild makes an excellent statement on the ethics behind consuming Rings of Power, and the labour and human rights abuses by Amazon.

Galadriel's Motivations

"Finrod was with Turgon, his friend; but Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand that day tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled in her heart, for she yearned to see the wide unguarded lands and to rule there a realm at her own will." — Of The Flight of The Noldor, The Silmarillion

The prologue briefly depicts a two minute summary of the Darkening of Valinor, Flight of the Noldor, and War of Wrath. We are shown Galadriel presiding over Finrod's corpse which bears scratch marks and a brand of the eye of Sauron which can be assumed to be after his infamous duel with Sauron during their duel in Tol-in-Gaurhoth.

While it is extremely likely that Galadriel will bear personal animosity towards Sauron for the murder of her brother, it does feel odd to me that the choice was made to establish the avenging of her brother as her primary motive in remaining in Middle-earth.

Christopher Tolkien's note in Unfinished Tales on the passage above is interesting in that:

"Most notable however in the passage just cited is the explicit statement that Galadriel refused the pardon of the Valar at the end of the First Age." — History of Galadriel and Celeborn, Unfinished Tales

This seems to fall in line with her established motivations in text with her desire to rule over a realm herself, as up until this point she has only aligned herself with rulers of other realms (Thingol and Melian in Doriath, Círdan in the Falas, etc.)

In the context of Rings of Power, Galadriel is portrayed as being "rewarded" a return to Aman by Gil-Galad as an honour which she too refuses for the sake of continuing her altered show motivation of avenging Finrod and hunting Sauron.

"She did indeed wish to depart from Valinor and to go into the wide world of Middle-earth for the exercise of her talents... and she felt confined in the tutelage of Aman. This desire of Galadriel's was, it seems, known to Manwë, and he had not forbidden her; but nor had she been given formal leave to depart... Galadriel, despairing now of Valinor and horrified by the violence and cruelty of Fëanor, set sail into darkness without waiting for Manwë's leave, which would undoubtedly been withheld in that hour, however legitimate her desire in itself." — History of Galadriel and Celeborn, Unfinished Tales

The issue with this change of primary motivation is that it makes no sense with regards to her imperialist incentive in crossing over to Middle-earth which is something that is core to her character.

"Galadriel laughed with a sudden clear laugh. 'Wise the Lady Galadriel may be,' she said, 'yet here she has met her match in courtesy. Gently are you revenged for my testing of your heart at our first meeting. You begin to see with a keen eye. I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer[.']... She stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. Then she let her hand fall, and the light faded, and suddenly she laughed again, and lo! she was shrunken: a slender elf-woman clad in simple white, whose gentle voice was soft and sad. 'I pass the test,' she said. 'I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.'" — The Mirror of Galadriel, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

The completion of her character arc is when she rejects the one ring when it is offered to her, and with it she relinquishes her desire to rule. It is only then she willingly makes the journey back to Aman as she rejects her ambition and rule, and when that happens Lothlórien begins to fade, and with it the last of Noldorin imperialism in Middle-earth.

I must reiterate that while I take no issue with the idea that pursuing Sauron as a means of avenging Finrod's death is a motivator for Galadriel, it should not be her primary motive as has been portrayed so far. It is unclear whether or not at this early stage in the show if she has come into contact with the elves of Lórien, but this is something to keep in mind when she interacts with Amdir and Amroth later on if they do appear in this adaptation.

It is also absolutely crucial to acknowledge the complexities and nuances of Galadriel's imperialist narrative, and the settler colonialism of it all. I could go on for literally an entire essay's worth of points, but I'm saving that for a paper later on.

"In the Second Age their king, Oropher... had withdrawn northward... he resented the intrusions of Celeborn and Galadriel into Lórien." — Appendix B: The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves, History of Galadriel and Celeborn, Unfinished Tales

While the text does seem to portray her imperialist ambitions either positively or neutrally, there are also characters who are shown to be critical of Noldorin imperialism.

"'You are of the house of Eöl, Maeglin, my son.' he said, 'and not of the Golodhrim. All this land is the land of the Teleri, and I will not deal nor have my son deal with the slayers of my kin, the invaders and usurpers of our homes.[']"

"'I acknowledge not your law,' [Eöl] said. 'No right have you or any of your kin in this land to seize realms or to set bounds, either here or there. This is the land of the Teleri, to which you bring war and all unquiet, dealing ever proudly and unjustly... Your father commands you. Leave the house of his enemies and the slayers of his kin, or be accursed!'"

— Of Maeglin, The Silmarillion

@skyeventide has an excellent thread on Twitter analysing Tolkien's specific choice of Eöl as the narrator for his critical commentary on the Noldorin settlement of Beleriand and in-text bias favouring narratives of settler colonialism.

Additional links and sources:

Galadriel and Ayesha by William H. Stoddard

Fantasy Racism Against the Elves

The first time we are introduced to the fantasy racism element of the show is when a man from Tirharad launches a tirade against Arondir venting his frustrations over the elven presence in their lands, calling him "knife-ear" which is a slur taken straight out of Dragon Age. It feels cheap and delivers less commentary and insight into the power dynamics the show attempts to suggest with the elven garrison guarding Tirharad on orders from Gil-Galad.

When approaching racism as a concept, one must remember the dynamics of power and disenfranchisement, in which the group(s) that wield power exert and abuse their power over another group for gain and profit in one form or another.

Textually, there is an element of cultural hierarchy and supremacy judged by a Quendi group's proximity to the West with Calaquendi (most notably Noldorin in a Middle-earth context) hegemony on the top of that pyramid, closely followed by the Sindar. While this deserves its own essay, I think the fact that Arondir is a Silvan plays into the uncomfortable "lowly Silvan elf" narrative that was introduced in adaptation in Peter Jackson's Desolation of Smaug (2013). Any review that claims fantasy racism is a "new" element to Tolkien adaptation in Rings of Power is inaccurate in this regard.

This is also made all the more uncomfortable by the fact that Arondir is played by Ismael Cruz Córdova who is Black and Puerto Rican, and is so far the only elf to be portrayed by a non-white actor. This, coupled by the fact that he is also a Silvan OC highlights a bunch of in-universe, and productional issues with regards to the way in which racism and inclusion are handled.

“[Wood-elves] differed from the High Elves of the West, and they were more dangerous and less wise. For most of them… were descended from the ancient tribes that never went to Faerie in the West. There the Light-elves and the Deep-elves, and the Sea-elves went and lived for ages, and are fairer and wiser and more learned, and invented their magic and their cunning craft in the making and of beautiful and marvellous things, before some came back into the Wide World… Still elves they were and remain, and that is Good People.”

— Flies and Spiders, The Hobbit

While there are definitely more nuanced ways to handle the element of inter-Quendi cultural dynamics, hierarchies, and conflicts, I don't think that establishing it using one-dimensional cheap commentary from a throwaway Tirharad man is the best way to go about it.

There are implications of Eldar holding power over men in the First Age, with men being portrayed as vassals in a feudalistic system under the Noldorin princes. In the Second Age there is less of this implication with the establishment of Númenor as the new mannish cultural centre, but it would have been better handled in the Tirharad context if there were points made about power dynamics with the Tirharad men treated as second-class citizens of their own lands or vassals of Eldar power and hegemony over their lands for the sake of their interests.

A line said by a Silvan soldier reasoning their station over the men of Tirharad as "descendants of those who served Morgoth" is uncomfortable as it plays into the established trope of South/Eastern men being inherently evil which links into Orientalist ideas of the East being percieved as fundamentally Other. This is an established trope in Tolkien which some of my links from my race in Tolkien masterpost linked below regarding the portrayal of Easterlings by Tolkien and in adaptation explain in more detail.

"The Silvan Elves had invented no forms of writing, and those who learned this art from the Sindar wrote in Sindarin as well as they could. By the end of the Third Age the Silvan tongues had probably ceased to be spoken in the two regions that had importance at the time of the War of the Ring: Lórien and the realm of Thranduil in northern Mirkwood."

— Appendix A: The Silvan Elves and Their Speech, History of Galadriel and Celeborn, Unfinished Tales

There is also a soft imperialism and cultural assimilation aspect to Sindarin settler colonialism in the Second Age, and while we have yet to meet the major Sindarin players of the Second Age (namely Oropher, Amdir, and Amroth), it may yet hold implications for Arondir down the line.

It feels rather strange that Gil-Galad is implied to hold dominion over Silvan elves, as it feels reductive of inter-Quendi dynamics from textual material. Unless Arondir and the other Silvans garrisoned at Tirharad are Silvan elves of Ered Luin or of the forests that fall within Lindon, there is no reason they should answer Gil-Galad's orders, much less recognise Gil-Galad's authority over them as a people group.

It is also strange that Gil-Galad appears to hold the more imperialistic narrative, rather than Galadriel who is explictly depicted as having imperialistic motives in Middle-earth. I question how this aspect of his character will be handled in the show, but I'm not holding my breath given how fantasy racism is often handled poorly and with little nuance in Tolkien fandom, adaptation, and fantasy as a genre.

The second instance in which we are shown the theme of fantasy racism is when Galadriel is rescued out of the water by human castaways. Halbrand reveals her ear, and the woman on board who had previously showed her kindness in offering water, turns on her and shrieks at the elf.

We do not know which people group(s) the castaways belong to, but Halbrand claims to be of the South.

The undertones of fantasy racism falls onto Galadriel's shoulder, who once again in adaptation is played by a white woman. I have written a thread on Twitter criticising fan responses to Morfyyd Clark's instagram posts, and how the Rings of Power fandom has ascribed to the actress the role of a white saviour in which it feels as if the conversation of racism is again being centred on whiteness.

Additional links and sources:

Please check out my Race in Tolkien masterpost for more links on the topic. I've last updated it 02/09/2022.

The Neoclassical Aesthetic Given to the Noldor and its Unfortunate Implications

Elves in their Roman mid-first century legionnaire-esque armour designs battle amongst the chaos against legions of orcs, and a mound of helmets as a symbol and testiment to the mighty dead. Galadriel adds a galea to the mound in sorrow and grief.

The scene shifts to Lindon in an unspecified time during the Second Age. A male elf crowned in golden laurels plays the lyre, and the female servants clad in their sleeveless Doric chitons linger in the background of shots.

As I mention above, the proscription of a neoclassical aesthetic to the Noldor exacerbates existing textual favourtism and cultural superiority, made all the more uncomfortable with recent discourses regarding the whiteness of the elves and the knowledge that real life facist and white supremacist groups have a habit of co-opting Classical Greek and Roman imagery. One need only look to Benito Mussolini and Identity Evropa as examples.

It feels less coincidental when considering the Classical Greek and Roman imagery and white actors the show has deliberately chosen for the Noldor.

This is a complicated and nuanced subject, with the popularisation of Ancient Greece and Rome as inherently white societies being a recent invention popularised in the 18th century by scholars such as Johann Joachim Winckelmann.

I brace myself and wince for the inevitable far-right white supremacist co-option of the neoclassical Noldor from the Rings of Power. It feels as if all my arguments against elves being inherently "white" are all for nothing, as in the past I have come face-to-face with white supremacists who have used the Peter Jackson film portrayals of Galadriel and Arwen as the pinnacle of white feminity to further their incentive to keep the elves in adaptation as white as possible.

Additional links and sources:

The whiteness of the Rings by Sean Redmond

Whitewashing Antiquity by Imara Ikhumen

Why the alt-right loves ancient Rome And Greece, too. by Sean Illing

#rings of power #the rings of power #lotr on prime #racism in tolkien #tolkien meta #tolkien adaptation #finrod #galadriel #arondir #gil galad #rings of power critical #not really a review per se but just some opinions and analysis

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 7 months

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Bagginshield Completed Multi-Chapter Fics

The Different Shades of Bilbo's Love

AO3 Link

Completed: 12/30/23

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Thorin didn't think highly of hobbits until a little hobbit child wanted to become his friend. Thorin finds himself forever changed by Bilbo Baggins and the different shades of love Bilbo shares with him.

Guardian of Kings

AO3 Link

Completed: 1/11/22

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Summary: The Company has been having a good laugh as the story of their quest spreads through the mountain and more and more retellings makes Thorin out to be Bilbo’s damsel in distress. It stops becoming funny when Thorin’s honor is challenged, and it’s up to Bilbo to defend it. Thorin may be ready to smuggle his hobbit out of the mountain, but Bilbo will do it. For Thorin, he would do anything.

The Marali Festival

AO3 Link

Completed: 2/15/22

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Bilbo thinks Thorin is ready for the next phase in their relationship after receiving an anonymous note. He spends the entirety of the dwarves’ seven day “passion” festival trying to convince Thorin that he is amiable to any courtship attempts. Only misunderstandings ensue.

One More Little Adventure

AO3 Link

Completed: 7/4/22

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Collaboration: @mulasawala

Summary: Bilbo is wondering whether remaining in Erebor is the right decision anymore, and a misunderstanding with Thorin solidifies his choice in leaving. However, before he can go anywhere, Bilbo's acorn he picked up from Beorn's garden takes matters into its own hands and shrinks the both of them. Bilbo and Thorin must now fight their way up the mountainside at two inches tall, bickering the whole way. Looks like they are in for one more little adventure together.

Secrets in the Blue Mountain Apartment

AO3 Link

Completed: 11/30/22

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Collaboration: @thotinshield

Companion Fic: What Happened in 30C

Summary: Dis finally had a serious boyfriend she was actually excited about. The only problem is that he's friends with her older brother, and they might not have told him yet.

They Stole My Heart (Along with the Rest of Him)

AO3 Link

Completed: 12/10/23

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Collaboration: @lordoftherazzles

Summary: After departing less than amicably, Thorin and Bilbo find themselves pining over memories and questions of ‘what if’ without any courage to seek out the answers themselves. So their friends and family step in to help…some more forcefully than others.

#sunny's fics #my masterlist #the hobbit #bagginshield

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sorisooyaa · 2 years

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Body Swap - June 21st

Characters and Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield and Thranduil / Thorin x Wife!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea

AN: Ok, Thorin, Thrandy plz don’t come at me, this was just a joke!! Love you both!! 😂 @i-did-not-mean-to this is what I meant Angel! Also, I’m sorry no graphic for this, and I’m really busy for the next few days. Ok bye bye, Haldir is whining for my attention again! 😂 - Haldir: Shalini! Get off that thing and look at me chasing my tail or I will chew your slippers again!

“It suits you!” You winked mischievously at your husband. His eyes flashed at you, the icy colour sending chills down your spine.

“I feel very uncomfortable that the fact you like me in this wretched figure, dear wife,” Thorin grumbled. You had to admit, it was odd hearing your husband’s voice fall from the elven king’s lips.

“Who are you calling wretched figure, Oakenshield!” The shouting from the other side of the room made you almost throw your head back in laughter. It greatly amused you; the once tall regal elven king now standing in the body of a dwarf to assert dominance, “If anything you should be grateful, to be blessed for the chance to wear a body so gifted and crafted by the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar.”

“I feel disgusted to have the body of a traitor,” Your husband growled out as you rolled your eyes. You placed a hand gently on his shoulder- or well, Thranduil’s shoulder. As amusing as all this was, it was uncomfortable to suddenly address your king and husband within the body of King Thranduil. The touch of velvet silks underneath your fingertips was not welcoming, nor was it, loving as the leather your husband always wore.

You have heard the fairytales from your own world before, the enchantment of the glass slippers, the curse of a rose, the darkened taste of death from a red apple, to possess the body of an animal and many others, though this, here, was truly something you never thought you would have ever come across. But your husband was within a world where magic flowed with free will, and dangerous curses lurked on the horizon. To be honest, this really, shouldn’t surprise you too much, compared to the many other things you have seen and heard (thanks to that certain wizard with tall pointed grey hat).

“You both do realise this is your own fault?” You stressed out, now strengthening your voice to overthrow them both.

“Pray tell, strange little human, how so is this our fault?” The elven king mocked from within your husband’s body. ‘Strange little human,’ well it was a nickname that started from your initial meeting with his crazy, big, giant tallness!

It wasn’t your fault the humans from your world were in the height range of dwarves. The elven king couldn’t believe you were a human during that first meeting while on the quest to reclaim Erebor.

“Both of you, as per usual, argued non-stop!” Your eyes twitched ever so slightly with each word, every little fight between these two- you swear, sometimes you just wanted to suffocate the both of them.

“I sent you both for a bonding trip, and you come back with some odd curse?” You groaned out, wanting to facepalm yourself for ever thinking this was a good idea. Maybe you should have listened to Balin’s warning, then you wouldn’t have screeched at the sound of Thranduil’s voice from inside your bed chambers, the one you shared with Thorin.

You had however whipped yourself around to find the body of your husband, but he grunted his disapproval of anything and everything he found. You had to listen to a whole speech from Thranduil as you made your way over to Mirkwood about how offensive of a treatment this was.

At times you felt like pulling your own hair out in the middle of these two, but you accepted your fate.

“I don’t know why, I agreed to this stupid ordeal!” Thranduil’s grunted, his voice falling from Thorin’s lips.

“That’s because I promised to give back your precious necklace, you moron! Now, shut up, and think about what happened on your so-called walking trip!” You almost screamed at the elven king, now having enough of his attitude.

The glare you received was familiar, the features of Thorin’s beautiful face moulding together to wear the emotion, but the person was different. You saw it through the eyes... because even if your husband was ever mad at you, he would not let you receive the full heat of his anger, a simple gaze from you or the touch of your skin on his would be enough to melt it all away.

“I do not remember meeting anyone,” Thranduil hissed out, you knew his patience was running out faster than the current of the river just outside, “Except that odd-looking elderly lady on the road on whom that stupid dwarf made a rude remark about and it had angered her!”

You raised an eyebrow, that sounded more like a Thranduil thing, than a Thorin thing.

“You wretched fool! That was you!” Thorin barked at him. Sometimes you actually felt like you were stuck in a nursery, with two of the naughtiest kids known to mankind!

“Thorin, honey, just wait,” You tried to cool how the rising anger within your husband, “An odd-looking elderly lady?”

“Yes, why does it matter?” Honestly, at times like these, you understood why Thorin would often speak out wanting to meet his fist to the elven king’s jaw until it was out of place. But you rather whack him in the head with his own berry-filled crown, though you couldn’t, even though you desperately wanted to, because it was your husband’s body that would receive the damage.

“You idiotic king of these stupid trees!” You whined, running a hand over your face, “For all, we know, that elderly old lady whose appearance you mocked about could have been a wicked witch!”

When a look of realisation passed over the faces of both kings, you rolled your eyes and let out a laugh.

“Then... what do we do now?” Your husband spoke, with a frown Thranduil’s features. For a second, you thought, if Thranduil wasn’t an ellon but a human, like yourself from your world, he would have been probably been concerned over the wrinkles frowns and smiles caused. You covered your mouth trying to keep in a laugh as you imagined Thranduil as a version of Victoria Beckham.

“Amrâlimê?” Thorin questioned at your sudden giddiness.

“I will tell you later, husband,” You promised him with a wink.

“For now we must find a cure for... all this,” You gestured vaguely at them in whole.

“How do we break this curse?” Thranduil made himself known again, of course, he couldn’t stay quiet for too long.

“You both kiss!”

The snap of their alarmed shocked faces towards you made you throw your head back in laughter until you were holding onto your stomach in stitches and tears dwelled in your eyes.

“Y/N!” Thorin grunted at you.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You said, still laughing, “Let us find this elderly lady then. Unless... you two are actually willing to kiss!”

“Absolutely not!”

“I would rather die!”

You giggled as they answered you quickly with strong disapproval.

“Alright then, let us go find this witch. Maybe she’s the wicked witch of the west in middle earth?” You hummed, nostalgically, remembering the fairytale of Dorothy and her ruby red slippers.

You laughed at the confused expression on their faces, “I will tell you the story on the way!”

#armitage summer splash #richard armitage #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin and thranduil #thorin and thranduil fights #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil of mirkwood #the hobbit #body swap #thorin and thranduil fight like kids #from shalinizhara's temp acc

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thestoryden · 2 years

Note

hello love,

i would like to Request where the reader is a quiet nerd, who secret is into dnd, one day Eddie Finds out when they are sketching out the Dnd oc of said person and gets them to jokn hell fire.

Unnoticed

Eddie Munson x Nerd!Reader Warnings: Embarrassment Word Count: 781

Most places you flew under the radar completely unnoticed. You only hit an even five foot once you got into high school and never really got that passed. You blended in, not too short and not too tall. You had not realized how bad it was till the day you ran into him. You were hurrying to get to Spanish class when BAM! you face plant directly into Eddie’s chest. Your face burns bright red. He puts a hand on your shoulder and gently pushes you off him.

“Whoa their freshman,” He says, “gotta watch where you're going.”

You can not take it anymore; you feel like you are going to melt out of embarrassment. You shove him hard and go into the classroom. He of course follows in after as you two have shared this class the whole entire semester. Miss O’Donnell begins handing back tests.

She smiles when she gets to you,“Perfect score as always. Maybe some of the other students could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Thank you,” you respond quietly.

The class drones on and the thought of what happened starts to eat away at you. You replay his voice over and over again in your head. You had gone unnoticed but this time it was for four years. He genuinely thought that you were a freshman. You had been in multiple classes with him and yet he couldn’t remember your face. The bell suddenly rang bringing you out of your stupor.

“Wait, I need you two stay after.” Miss O’Donnell calls out.

She points at Eddie and you.You try to hide your disgust, because you know exactly what is going to happen.

Miss O’Donnell looks up from her desk, “Here is the deal. I don't want to see Mr.Munson’s face again in the school next year, and you are going to make that happen. I just need you to tutor-”

“Not happening.” Eddie and you say in unison.

You both look at each other and then back at Miss O’Donnell.

“He can’t afford my rate Miss O’Donnell and I doubt he’d listen.” you retort.

“I’ll make sure you get to take the Spanish two credit exam.” She says.

You give Eddie a once over and think about what happened earlier.

“Universities won’t blink an eye at that. Let me take the Spanish two and three credit exams, and we will have a deal.” you say.

She relents and gives a hopeless, “Yes.”

“Wait don’t I get a say in this?” Eddie says

“No, you either take lessons and get your less than deserving D, or you fail and repeat senior year again.” Miss O’Donnell says.

He sticks his hand out, “Happy to do business with you Freshman.”

You slap his hand away, “We meet in the Library after school.”

Later during your free period you were pouring over your copy over The Master Rules developing your character further, when you decided to draw it. You started out with a basic body type and started adding details from one of your earlier sketches.

Eddie plants his hand down firmly on the table, “What are you doing young adventurer!”

You look up at him and flush a deep red and quickly stuff your pages into your book, putting it into your backpack.

“Oh come on, I already saw it. I know you play Dungeons and Dragons.” he made a small flourish with his hands.

You breathed out a steady stream of air and pulled out your Spanish textbook.

“You are early.” you reply curtly.

He snorted, “Yeah, I have Hellfire club tonight, I can't miss it and neither can you”

You begin flipping through the textbook and pull out a set of flashcards.

“Come on, we need a sub for tonight's game. My little Freshman minions couldn’t find a replacement for their friend, and you’ll do perfect.” he implores.

Someone is finally noticing you and all you want to do is run and hide. Tuck yourself back into the corner of the library and fit yourself right between the pages of The Hobbit.

“Fine, I will join for this session.” you say pointedly, “The only way I’ll come back is if the game is actually good. And you come to tutoring and actually make progress.”

He sticks his hand out, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

You take his hand and shake it this time. It feels kinda liberating to be noticed .

-EXTRA-

You trail behind him on the way to Hellfire Club.

“About that Freshman thing.” you mumble.

“Oh that,” He says, “yeah I know your senior. I was just messing with you.”

Your jaw drops open. He smiles at you.

How long had he noticed you?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x nerd!reader #eddie munson one shot #nongendered reader

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theblogofdurin · 2 years

Text

Cloaked in Green ||Pt.2|| Chp.19: Hunted

word count: 2.2k

summary: Beorn but let's add a little ✨️personality ✨️, plus ale deprived dwarves.

warning(s): drinking. Mention of prisonment, mentions of targeted groups with a little misogyny for flavor.

a/n: Well two things... 1. ITS MY BIRTHDAY (June18th) and yes I am old. 🙈 2. I AM GOING TO FANEXPO DALLAS TO SEE THE 4 LOTR HOBBITS ACTORS AND I'M SO PUMPED. I'LL POST MY EXPERIENCE. <- click to read.

P.S don't forgot to like and reblog and comment to let me know to keep writing this story!!

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!OC

Links here: series masterlist, chp.18

----

Gandalf dozed off after that, snoring softly in the overly large chair, pipe still in hand. I leaned further back in my chair as I tried to rest my body as much as it would let me, yet it seems my thoughts had other ideas.

First off....Thorin.

Something has been off, I don’t have any evidence or reason behind my thinking, yet; I feel like something is different. What am I kidding? The whole situation with him is different. It's strange and quite...

Ugh, secondly, Gandalf didn’t disagree with me when I spoke of the rising threat brewing in the air…so that must mean that he feels it too and fears the same. And if that is true and Sauron is regaining his power…that brings up another tangle of sleep deprivating thoughts.

Lastly, Can we truly reclaim the mountain? Erebor is a massive stronghold in the North. Directly east of Mirkwood, if the dark forces manage to capture it before us…or worse if they somehow manage to coerce Smaug into joining their ranks. We'll never be able to succeed, or least not without a massive loss before.

Chewing on the wooden end of my pipe, I tried to contemplate through the mess that was going on in my mind. The sun was already lightening the sky, when the faint hits of an axe started. Setting the wooden pipe down on the table, I carefully managed to step around some of the sleeping dwarves to peer out of one of the windows looking out over the front.

The massively large back of who I can only assume is Beorn greeted me. The muscles on his hairy back flexed slightly with each swing of the axe he took. Knowing full well that Beorn is not a friend of Dwarves, I quickly realized that if we are to have any chance of getting the shapeshifter's help I would need to talk to him alone…and like any of them would like to talk to him alone.

Taking the chance, moving back around the sleeping company, I stopped to look over one of the bodies. With half of his hair covering his face, Thorin slept quite silently compared to his fellow men.

Shaking my head abruptly, I moved my head to redirect me to my original purpose, gently opening the giant door as quietly as I could and stepped out towards the hairy shifter.

---

The sky was starting to show a faint orange hue as Aranea approached the tall figure. The figure turned slightly to look over his shoulder. “Who are you?”

“Aranea, daughter of Arathorn, Lady of the Dunedain,”

Turning fully to glance over her, Beorn moved his hands to rest slightly on his axe. “Never heard of you.”

Smirking up at the shifter, Aranea, still keeping her distance, moved to sit on one of the thumps. “Well, I would hope not, my people have tried very hard to keep my existence a secret on this side of the Misty Mountains. You can probably assume our reasoning."

“And why are you on this side then, Ranger?” He questioned gruffly tilting his head.

“I’m traveling with a company.” she smiled, “You met them already, remember? You gave them quite a fright.”

Barking a laugh, Beron's face brightened slightly at the memory. “How scare were they?”

“So scared.” Aranea laughed with him, “I never seen so many men scream like they did.”

While the pair were still chuckling, Aranea looked down at her hands in her lap. "I just wanted to thank you for letting us intrude in your lodgings." Gesturing lightly towards the door and back to the treeline behind the shapeshifter, "Though you probably understand our reasoning for such manners."

With a more glum expression, the smile dropped from Beorn's face. "Why is Azog the defiler chasing you?"

"It's the company I travel with, Azog was made a vow against-"

"They aren't dwarves are they!?!" Swinging his axe to grip it tightly, growling as he made a step towards the door. "I hate Dwarves!!"

Pointingly, Aranea raised a hand. "You and I both know that you already smelt them either on me or last night when you chased us." Aranea raised up her elbow slightly and sniffed hesitantly under her arm, flinching away to gag.

"Though" she shook her head "I wouldn't be surprised if my stench covered them."

Beorn with pinched eyebrows regarded the relaxed position the human was taking on the tree stump. One leg resting under her as she leaned forward on her knees. Tilting his head he almost whispered. "You're not afraid of me. "

Giving a small smile up at him, Aranea shook her head softly this time. "No. I'm not."

"Why is that?"

"Because I know what it's like to be hunted."

Beorn scoffed at this. "Do you really?" He waved a hand, letting his axe head rest on the ground again. "Do you know what it's like to watch your own kind get killed around you? To be captured and held prisoner." Beorn started to trail off,

"Not in that way." Aranea sighed. "But I do know what it's like to have to fight to survive." Gesturing with her hands slightly down at her blood stained tunic and vest. "As you can probably see, I was not raised like most ladies…but I am a Lady." Beorn gaze moved with her hands before looking back at her face.

Resting her hands back into her lap, she continued. "I was trained at an early age alongside my brother, after watching our father die for having the same blood that runs through our veins. The same taintness " Swallowing loudly, she added. "For having the same blood shared with a man who failed all of us…and all of Middle-Earth."

"Isildur?" Beorn eyebrows furrowed. "You're Isildur's Heir?" Aranea smiled sadly and nodded.

"Yes." She looked back down at her hands. "And I'm hunted for it." She looked back up at Beorn's face, "My Brother and I both chose Exile when the time came."

"Why are you traveling with a group of Dwarves then?" Beorn looked even more confused as he look briefly back at his house.

"Because the group I travel with, a company of 13 Dwarves are on a quest to reclaim their homeland." Noticing the shapeshifter's tighting grip on his axe handle, Aranea snapped at him "They wish nothing more then just to past through to Erebor."

Beorn interrupted her, his expressive eyebrows raising "The Lonely Mountain?" Puzzled, Aranea nodded again. "You are traveling with the one they call Oakenshield."

"Oh!" Aranea laughed. "You know him but not me, I see how that is."

Suddenly barking another laugh, Beorn shook his head. "You." He pointed down at her. "You, little human, confuse me."

"Yes, I am traveling with Thorin Oakenshield and Company. Along with a Wizard and a Hobbit."

Beorn raised a quizzed brow "Radagast?- You are traveling with Radagast the Brown?"

Laughing at his expression, "No-" she spoke in-between giggles at his expression. "No, Not Radagast, Another Wizard, by the name of Gandalf the Grey."

"Never heard of him." Beorn gumbled.

"Not surprising."

That caused both of pair to fall into an unceremonial laughter.

"So." Beorn spoke again, the visible tension off of his shoulders. "A Wizard, A Halfing, A Lady and Thirteen Dwarves…that's an-" he searched for the proper word.

Still regaining from her laughter Aranea spoke through breaths. "Yes I know, We make a unique group."

Turning slightly on her stump, Aranea looked back at the house, in one of the windows the clear outline of Bofur's hat darting out of view caused chuckles to leave both her and Beorn.

"I understand your distaste for dwarves, trust me I've spent the last 2 weeks with them, but, I promise you, from what I've seen…these dwarves are honorable."

Beorn stood silently for a few moments, judging the woman in front of him. Could he trust her? Could he trust her company that she speaks so highly of? Growling softly, he nodded.

"You are the most gracious, Beorn."

A loud squeak of the door and gently stepping out Gandalf smiled broadly at the two. "Master Beorn, it's so nice to meet-" With a roll of his eyes, Beorn looked over at the wizard. “-you in person, I wish to thank you for your hospitality and letting-.”

“I need a drink.” Beorn suddenly interrupted Gandalf, gesturing with a hand he asked Aranea, “Ladies do drink Ale, yes?” With a slightly brightened nod, Aranea jumped up following the shapeshifter as he walked past the bewildered Gandalf.

Linking her arms with Gandalf, Aranea spun him back around to walk with her. “Everythings handled.” she whispered “Just help me keep the others in line.”

"I hate Dwarves." Beron added again as he opened the door of his lounging, gesturing for Aranea and Gandalf to enter first. "But I distaste Orcs more so, you may all stay as you wish."

"Thank you again, kind sir." Gandalf smiled gratefully up at the man as he passed. Beorn grunted. "I suggest not leaving tonight ; however, you'd be followed immediately."

Walking into the front entrance where the dwarves and Bilbo were compressed. Beorn let out a humpf of annoyance. Gandalf raised a shaky thumbs up when the shifter turned to grab cups from the upheld cabinets. Aranea almost smiled when she visibly saw their shoulders and posture sag and sigh in relief.

"I assume the dwarves would like a drink as well?" Beorn turned, dropping 6 massive cups on the table before turning to grab more. "How about the halfing?"

"Yes, please!" Bilbo gulped quite loudly causing some snickers from both the dwarves and Beorn.

"I enjoy the company of shire-folk, no need to squirrel yourself." Beorn scoffed as he dropped 5 more cups on the table, before reaching back again "-though its been many years. laid back creatures they are, enjoy nature more than the company of other beings ."

Bilbo was intrigued to say the least. Peeking out from around Thorin, Bilbo silently moved closer to the table with the others. "You met other hobbits before me?"

Beron nodded as he dropped the last 6 cups on the table. "A Hardbuckle and a Proudfoot, I believe, were their names many decades ago."

"Really?!" Bilbo all but exclaimed, "This far east?"

Beorn laughed at the halfing shaking his head as he filled the ale pitcher from the barrel on the side of the makeshift dining room. "No, like I said it was long ago and I stayed on the other side of the mountains, closer to your Shire."

Bilbo let out an audible "Ahh. " Beron went to start pouring the ale in all the wooden cups that had been divided among everyone.

Fili and Kili almost wanted to cry at the sight of the tall ale. While Dori was holding back an eager Ori from downing all of his in one gulp. Bombur and Bifor didn't hold back though, finishing theirs off proudly, as Beorn wrinkled an eyebrow before refilling their glasses.

Aranea and Gandalf were perched next to each in chairs slightly adjacent from the others. Beorn walked over to them to pour through glasses before turning back to the body stiff in between the rooms.

"You must be the one they call Oakenshield." Beorn noted, filling his glass.

Thorin was massively irritated, both at himself and at the human lass sitting next to the wizard like she didn't just endangered her life 3 minutes ago. There was no telling what could have happened and yet she still blindly went outside while everyone was asleep…while he was asleep. He was the one who was to protect for Mahal’s sake and he could have just slept right through her being mauled to death. He wouldn't have be able to live with himself-

Suddenly snapping out of his thought enough to register what the predator/man-beast asked him. Thorin nodded jerkly at Beorn question. "Yes." He's voice very quietly confirming.

"Then, would you mind telling me when Azog the defiler is chasing you?"

"You know of Azog?" Thorin turned to face Beorn as the shifter moved back to the table, refilling Ori's glass, he nodded thoughtfully, Bilbo thought as Throin asked "How?"

With a longing sigh, Beorn realized the genuine curiosity behind the dwarf words before telling him "My people were the first to live in the mountains...before the Orcs came down from the North."

Beorn gestured over towards where Aranea sat "-even before the island people moved westward." Now with a more glum expression, Beorn decided to just leave the pitcher at the table, moving to sit at his chair in-between Aranea and Gandalf.

Talking as he went. The room was silent.

"The Defiler killed most of my family. But some he...enslaved. Not for work, you understand...but for sport." Mindlessly rubbing his wrist, Bilbo also gasped when he saw the shackles on Beorn's wrist. "Caging skin-changers...and torturing them, seemed to amuse him."

" There are others like you?" Dori asked hesitantly, he seemed interested in the concept of more shifters.

Beorn smiled, but everyone in the room could tell it was a sad smile. "Once there were many."

"And now?"

"Now there is only one."

----

taglist still open! @lokigirlszendaya @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @emrfangirl @lathalea @hr-nm-grnd-zr @markosgirl @demigoddesofchimichangagod @imaginesfire @kaysteahouse @tamnight @mithrandirssidehoe @panhoeofmanyfandoms @petrelrose @irisv-x @fandoms4everyone @Leabeiersdorf07 @nunyobuisness @fallinloveinoctober @mysterypotatoink @whore-of-many-hot-men @generalgoldfishldrm @thevanillahorizon @cloudcatchingstark @readingkitty @wolfers-stuff @depressedemo-152 @triffidgurl @nessarosefiction

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mirkwoodshewolf · 2 years

Text

I am the Celestial of Death Chap. 1; Return to the Shire

*Author’s note*

Ask and you shall receive as promised, here we begin the sequel to my The Celestial and the Company series (so to any new readers out there, read that series first then click back here to read the continuing adventures). So not really any warnings here because we’re getting into Bilbo’s 111th birthday celebration so things will start off happy and peaceful and then the drama shall ensue.

Now think I’ll stop typing this author’s note and let you all start reading. Enjoy the long awaited sequel of The Celestial and the Company everybody!

NEXT CHAPTER

Prequel series read here

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@queen-paladin

@queensdivas

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@byersboys

____________________________________________________________

A new millennia of Middle Earth, well a year after a new millennia but still nonetheless it is a new thousand year reign and today called for a special occasion. My last visit to the Shire was just 3 years ago ago but even for as short of a time it is, it felt like an eternity.

I was resting in the back of a cart sleeping in the form of a cat listening to the song of an old friend. Yep, Gandalf the Grey to be exact. I had been sent word of Gandalf’s trip to the Shire for a very special occasion, for today was Bilbo Baggins’ 111th birthday, the oldest Hobbit to ever live.

As Gandalf continued to sing his own little tune under his breath, urging the single horse carriage onward that’s when a voice spoke up.

“You’re late!” my ear twitched and I looked up and there stood another one of my favorite Hobbits, Frodo Baggins, the adopted nephew of Bilbo. Gandalf stopped the horse and slowly turned to Frodo to lecture him.

“A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.” I watched as the two of them softly glared at each other before a wide smile spread across both their faces and they began laughing.

“It’s wonderful to see you Gandalf!” Frodo exclaimed as he jumped onto the cart to embrace the old wizard. Gandalf laughed joyously as he hugged the dark haired hobbit back.

“You didn’t think we’d miss your uncle Bilbo’s birthday hmm?”

“We?” Frodo questioned. That’s when I let out a loud meow and shapeshifted back to my normal form and said.

“I see you always give Gandalf all the love and never leave any for me dear Frodo.”

“Hela!” he turned around and embraced me. I laughed and kissed the hobbit’s head before ruffling his hair.

“Look at you Frodo, growing up so fast. Pretty soon you’ll be as tall as an elf at the rate you’re growing.”

“You know that can’t happen.” He chastised himself.

“Can’t happen?! Poppycock Frodo Baggins, didn’t Bilbo ever tell you about his great, great, great, great uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a horse such as this one?” I said pointing to the horse in front of our carriage.

“He may have mentioned it once or twice when telling me of the family history.”

“Then don’t doubt that for a second.” I said as I booped his nose and Gandalf urged the horse onward once more. “Speaking of you Bagginses, how is old Bilbo doing these days?” I asked.

“Yes. We hear it’s going to be a party of special magnificence.” Gandalf said as I adjusted Frodo on my lap as I sat next to Gandalf now.

“You both know Bilbo. He’s got the whole place in an uproar.” Gandalf and I softly chuckled. I nodded in agreement while Gandalf held his pipe between his teeth.

“Well that should please him.” Gandalf replied.

“Half the Shire’s been invited, and the rest of them are turning up anyway.” Frodo said to us which made us all laugh. As we rode on, our conversations continued to grow. Frodo asking me where all I have been since I last visited the Shire, whom all I’ve met and the places I’ve been. I told him I would do my story time about my own adventures at Bilbo’s party for I indeed had a story to tell.

Soon the familiar green rolling hills and hobbit holes came into view as we rode over the pathway. I also began to notice a distant look in Frodo’s eyes, and his mind appeared to be running like a volcano about to combust.

“Something on your mind Frodo?” I asked him.

“Well, to tell you the truth. Bilbo’s been a bit odd lately.” Gandalf and I looked at him, about to speak up when Frodo said, “I mean, more than usual. He’s taking to locking himself in his study. He spends hours and hours poring over old maps when he thinks I’m not looking. He’s up to something.” I hummed softly.

For my few visits to the Shire, I did notice a slight change to Bilbo’s character, he’s been a bit secretive up to the point of paranoia. Not to mention that ever since the incident with the goblins in the Misty Mountains 60 years ago, he’s seem to grow fond of fiddling with his pockets.

Frodo and I turned to Gandalf who was acting suspicious himself. Smoking his pipe and clearing his throat acting like he was trying to hide something from us.

“Alright then keep your secrets.” Frodo said with a slight grin.

“What?” Gandalf said taking his pipe out of his mouth.

“But I know you had something to do with it.”

“Good gracious me.” Gandalf muttered again.

“Before you came along, we Baggins were very well thought of.” Frodo then began to explain.

“Oh indeed you were.” I said.

“Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected.”

“If you’re referring to the incident with the Dragon, I was barely involved.” More like not involved, you left our journey at the gates of Mirkwood. “All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door.”

“Whatever you did, you both have been officially labeled disturbers of the peace.” My jaw dropped.

“Including me?”

“Afraid so Hela.” I playfully glared at Gandalf and said.

“And this is what I get for traveling with wizards. Come join the adventure he says, you’ll have a bigger calling he says.”

“Oh hush young Celestial! But I was right about the Quest. It did open up new friends to you.” I smiled fondly thinking back to the Dwarvish company and the memories I had with Fili and Kili. I even stroked my braids that I kept of theirs, not once have I allowed those braids to come undone since their death at Ravenhill.

“True. But now I’ll have to redeem myself to the eyes of the Hobbit elders. The only Celestials to cause that level of trouble were Kingo and Sprite. They’ll never hear the end of it if they know an entire race has labeled me as such a title.”

Riding further into the Shire, I soon began to hear the sound of children exclaiming Gandalf’s name as well as my own. The children began to gather together chasing after the cart telling Gandalf to unveil his famous fireworks and for me to do a little Celestial magic myself.

“Fireworks Gandalf, Magic flowers Hela.” Were their repeated sayings. I turned to Gandalf who just looked ahead not even hearing their wishes. The children soon stopped running and just stood there sadly.

Soon the booming and crackling of fireworks creating wavy lines, and with a flick of my wrist and the glow of Cersei’s gem, the flowers surrounding one particular hobbit home began to dance and come alive. The children all cheered happily as Gandalf and I both smiled and gave each other a high five.

“Gandalf, Hela. I’m glad you’re both back.” Frodo said as he stood up from my lap.

“So are we Frodo.” I told him as I gave his cheek a kiss and he hopped off the cart and waved goodbye to us and we waved back to him.

“So are we.” Gandalf muttered with a smile. After about ten minutes we finally came to the very Hobbit Hole we were searching for, Bad-End, the home of Bilbo Baggins himself. Gandalf eased the horse to a halt and he got off first before extending his hand out to me.

“Thank you Mithrandir.” I said in a posh tone as I got off the cart as well. We walked up to the gate and saw that there was a sign nailed up to it that read:

NO ADMITTANCE

Except on Party business

Gandalf opened the gate and allowed me to walk in first then he followed behind me. I hopped up the steps, excitement in each step as I gave a knock at the door.

“No thank you!” Bilbo’s voice snapped. “We don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!”

“And what about very old friends?” Gandalf said. The green door opened and there stood my first and dearest Hobbit friend, Bilbo Baggins.

“Gandalf? Hela?”

“Bilbo.” I greeted warmly with a smile as I held my arms out.

“My dear Hela! Gandalf!” Gandalf and I knelt down to his height as he embraced us both at the same time.

“Good to see you. One hundred and eleven years old who would believe it?” Gandalf said. The three of us separated from each other and I said as I cupped Bilbo’s cheek gingerly in my hand.

“There must be some Celestial youth in you my dear hobbit.”

“She’s right. You haven’t aged a day.” Bilbo looked at the both of us with such love and affection, I even noticed some tears in his eyes. We all softly laughed before Bilbo invited us in with a warm smile and a pep in his step.

“Come on come in! Welcome, welcome.” I was the first to duck under the door followed by Gandalf. He closed the door as soon as Gandalf came in. He then came up to Gandalf and offered to take his hat and staff before offering us a drink. “Tea, or perhaps something a little stronger? I’ve got a few bottles of the Old Winyard left. 1296, very good year. Almost as old as I am.” Bilbo placed Gandalf’s things against a coat rack before scattering off further into his home. “It was laid down by my father. What’s say we open one ehh?”

“Just tea, thank you.” Gandalf said before hitting his head once again on the chandelier candle.

“Think I’ll just have some milk if you’ve got any Bilbo.” I called out to him.

“Of course Hela.” I then heard a thud and a groan from Gandalf and I said to him.

“Still hitting yourself along the ceiling? I remember when we came here with the Company you kept hitting your head at every first turn of the house.”

“Still always need to get used to the height hobbit holes are.” Gandalf said. As we walked along, remembering every room Bilbo had in this home of his, we soon came into his study as Bilbo went on a ramble of food and drink and being unprepared for our sudden visit.

It was then I came across a familiar portion of a map. I set aside the other maps and picked up the framed map to see it was the Map of Erebor. The very map Gandalf gave to Thorin. My lip slightly quivered as I stroked the delicate paper gingerly.

“They’ve missed you a great deal according to Balin when last I came here with him.” Gandalf told me.

“I wish I could’ve visited them more than I did. I missed them just as much. How are they all? Last I heard of Balin he, Ori and Oin tried to reclaim Moria.”

“And they did. They did just that.” Gandalf told me.

“Good, that’s good. And I assume Balin took the seat as Lord of Moria?” he nodded. “Good, that’s good. A dwarvish kingdom like that deserves to be back under the ruling of the Dwarves. Especially after Thror couldn’t do that for them so long ago.”

“I could make you some eggs if you’d like Hela and—Gandalf?” I looked behind me to see that Gandalf was gone. Wait where—

“Just tea thank you.” Gandalf said as he suddenly peeked out from the kitchen.

“Oh, right. And Hela what about you? Sponge cake?”

“Sure if you don’t mind. Always does go good with milk.” I said. “Now Gandalf you sure you don’t mind seeing Bilbo and I eat before you?”

“Not at all Hela my dear girl. You and Bilbo go ahead and eat.” I then sat myself when an angry knock came at the door. Bilbo immediately jumped back and hid himself.

“Bilbo!” a woman’s voice exclaimed out. “Bilbo Baggins!”

“I’m not at home!” Bilbo hissed quietly at us. He crept up towards the window as he told us, “It’s the Sackville-Bagginses.”

“I know you’re in there!” the woman, Mrs. Sackville-Bagginses snapped.

“They’re after the house. They’ve never forgiven me for living this long. I’ve got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day not giving me a moments peace!” Bilbo rambled on quietly as he came back over to us and stood by the small kitchen window. “I want to see mountains again, mountains Gandalf and Hela. And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book. Oh, tea and milk and the sponge cake.” He began prepping the tea as Gandalf said.

“So you mean to go through with your plan then?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all in hand. All the arrangements are made.” Bilbo said to Gandalf as he picked his kettle up with both hands. Gandalf picked up the lid from his cup for Bilbo to pour, he thanked the wizard and he said.

“Frodo suspects something.”

“Course he does. He’s a Baggins! Not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle.”

“You will tell him, won’t you?” Gandalf asked.

“Yes, yes.” Bilbo said impatiently as he poured my milk into a different cup before handing it to me.

“You know he is very fond of you Bilbo. Has been ever since you’ve agreed to take him under your Guardianship.” I said to him.

“I know.” Bilbo answered me in a soft whisper. “He’d probably come with me if I asked him. I think, in his heart, Frodo’s still in love with the Shire. The woods, the fields. Little rivers.” Bilbo’s voice trailing off as he walked back over to the kitchen window where the sponge cake was.

There was such a distance of his voice yet it also held some sorrow in it.

“I’m old, Gandalf and Hela. I know I don’t look it, but I’m beginning to feel it in my heart.” Once again I caught sight of his index and thumb shoved deep into his pocket fiddling with something, something that was radiating something—fell. “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday, a very long holiday. And I don’t expect I shall return. In fact I mean not to.” He continued as he finally sat down.

I reached out and took Bilbo’s old, wrinkled hand in mine. He snapped out of his daze to look at me. I gave him a warm, soft look with my eyes as I transferred a healing touch to Bilbo’s weary head and heart. A trick I learned from brother Cain. He gave me a soft reassuring smile as his other hand came on top of mine giving it a pat.

“Now Hela, you said you wanted sponge cake with your milk?”

“I can get it this time Bilbo, you just stay seated and continue your meal.” I stood up as Bilbo said.

“Now you know I don’t mind getting up for my guests.”

“I know, but you also know how I don’t mind serving myself. I maybe a guest but I’m not useless nor crippled so no need to treat me as such.” I responded as I grabbed the sponge cake and sat back down before grabbing a knife and fork to cut the cake apart for Bilbo and myself. The three of us enjoying our meal and drink as we caught up with one another for the rest of the afternoon.

As the sun began to set, a half hour before Bilbo’s birthday party would begin, the two men were out on Bilbo’s porch smoking their pipes while I volunteered to do the dishes and clean the place up a bit. I dried off the last dish and stacked it to the side to dry before heading outside to join the two of them.

“Dishes are all done Bilbo. And not a single one was thrown about this time nor knife blunt.” I teased him as he remembered back when the Company of Thorin Oakenshield came over.

“Bless you Hela you are an angel.” He thanked me.

“Not quite but I get what you mean.” I lovingly patted his head just as Gandalf made a boat with his pipe smoke and blew it through the smoke ring I knew Bilbo had made. As it sailed through the ring before disappearing Bilbo said to us.

“My old friends, this will be a night to remember.”

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ghostly-shenanigans-in-progress · 2 years

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Do u have any headcanons or ideas for Sidney Pointdexter?

@dnpanimationstudioclone of course! I love my broski, Sidney Poindexter. So strap in;

Given the length of my previous response I’ll try to keep the ideas and headcanons short for easier reader digest. So bullet points time!

Sidney was huge into sci-fi and fantasy media back in his past life. Comics, movies, books, cartoons and shows you name it he loves it especially foreign works like J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series to the first Godzilla movie at the time in 1954. Others book wise from Tunnel in the Sky by Heinlein, Judgement by C.L Moore, Triplanetary to the works of Orson Wells to classic monster movies the 50s spurred before the 60s. And a lover for cartoons of the Looney toons variety and newspaper funny pages of Dick Tracy and Charlie Brown.

Sidney was a nerd because of his interests but he was smart nerd due to both of his parents being teachers. His mom was an English teacher and his father was a math/pre-calc teacher. Seriously, Poindexter’s dinner time would involve having to figure out three new sentences with a vocabulary word you’d learn in high school and breakfast was doing two or three long division polynomials on the page before the newspaper’s comics/funnies section which his father would make him finish first in order to read it. All of this repetition learning placed Sidney a year or two ahead than most in his class as a result.

Sidney’s parents cared for him a lot but we’re quite strict to a point in his education and use of his free time. It’s understandable in some way as I hc Sidney’s grandparents or parents were Jewish immigrants and Sid being first generation with more opportunities than those before him. His parents loved him and were trying to help him prepare for the road ahead, but they seemed to neglected their efforts and positions had as teachers in the Casper/Amity School systems. I think another factor to Sidney’s bullying is that a lot of high schoolers or middle schoolers took out their aggression on his dad’s tough math/pre-calc classes on him. That whole having to bully Poindexter as a graduation requirement thing started bc his dad was the last class you had to take to graduate as a senior.

I love the idea Sidney and Lunch Lady knew each other back when he was still alive in middle school and a young Laurie (LL’s real name in my hcs) started working as Casper’s lunch lady. Sidney being such a frail and small pre-teen, Lunch Lady couldn’t help but give him and extra helping of food (especially when others would either take his money or food). Even before the bullying got worse, Lunch Lady would let Sidney help in the mess hall to avoid being mistreated. She’d lie and say Sidney had to work first before he could earn his meal if any other staff member asked why he was there. It helped a lot, Sidney considered her to be his only friend at the time when he was alive.

If Sidney didn’t die so young or survived his suicide attempt, his parents would said enough is enough and change schools immediately after that happened. Sidney would restart his third year in junior high and avoid further bullying or gossip about his incident. It was welcomed but he was upset still over having to restart 11th grade again when he was almost done. But more importantly not being able to say a proper goodbye to Laurie/Lunch Lady when it happened. He sent her an emotional thank you card though which she kept in her important belongings until she died of a heart attack in the 1980s or 1990s.

I felt that Sidney was a late bloomer given the lack of eating meals at school, general genetics to general depression, Sidney would of been very tall in his third year in high school. I think he would of been a basketball guy but honestly I definitely think he would of been the best mascot ever in the school he was transferred to like legendary dude. Also, he’d make a risk to join a his new school’s newspaper which led to him meeting new people and socializing with new people who he’d make friends with. But most importantly it allowed him to pursue his interests by drawing cartoon/comics in the school’s papers that led him to his profession as a famous Cartoonist in his adult life.

Ok, enough new life Sidney back to ghost Sidney. Sidney found out about his ability to connect to his old Locker 724 when he got pushed in it again in his lair replica of the Casper High and saw through the mirror another kid like him met the same fate and was crying just like he did alive. It sent him off in a rage that made him press his hands to the mirror phase through and possess the kid in his enraged state to wreck havoc on the bully responsible for it. That bully literally got sent to the ER once they got their hands on them and the school knew this was a ghost possession situation when it happened, the pre-exposed GIW got involved and the locker was decommissioned until the 2000s with new staff and a bigger student body came to reclaim as much available space possible for students to use locker wise. Rumors be damned is how that went, poor Danny.

Sidney didn’t knew about Lunch Lady’s death until after the first episode when she got sent to the ghost zone. He thought she past away peacefully even if it was a heart attack or something else that had her died suddenly. Before Walker got to her/arrested her, Laurie was roaming the zone and had fast whiplash as soon as she found the old Casper high in black and white. Even more so when she entered and her appearance changed back to her look in the 50s again and the moment Sidney saw her again he broke down crying and hugged her as his loss those memories of spending time/being friends with here at the school after so many decades with being treated like crap until Danny changed everything to be treated as an equal.

Sidney is a strong advocate for Danny ever since the debut episode for him. Danny is probably the only person Poindexter actively stood up for against the other ghosts as shown in Reign Storm with Skulker and such. He isn’t fond of traveling the zone alone, at least in the school he knows what to expect with the torment he receives or used to receive. It’s familiar, he’s used to it, out in the deep green it’s unpredictable and unknown which is something Sidney fears even more.

Speaking of Reign Storm, LOOK AT THEM!!!!

WHY DOESNT GET TALKED ABOUT MORE?! Sidney and Dora being best buddies during and after the events of Reign Storm. Sidney’s love for fantasy and old British/medieval literature too (thank his mom on that one), it’s likely Sidney can hold a good conversation and maybe understand his middle ages dialect. Even more so that both of them were bullied and tormented by their peers most of their lives that they have more in common than they thought. And yes, if Sidney would visit her and see how his outfit changes to a knight or jester outfit he would go nuts about it bc that’s his dream there and boy he is living it. Ok overall, they’re best friends I’m not accepting anything else at this time.

Danny and Sidney chat in the locker mirror on a biweekly basis. He’s Danny’s man inside as a thank you for changing his memories of Casper high so he can be the person he could of been in high school with Danny. He helps out by being part of writing the school’s newspaper club and they get other newspapers of the ghost areas as a result. Sidney can only share the newspaper through the mirror which still works out for Danny with taking a picture on his phone for reference later. Plus Sidney is a good enough storyteller that he doesn’t have to read the whole thing if he asked Sidney to share the highlights. Also, during the week or Friday before winter break Danny, Tucker and Sam make sure to wish him a happy holiday and Hanukkah. Same story for each other Jewish holiday since Sam is very adamant about letting Sid know they’re thinking about him during those times.

Danny and Sidney really hit it off after Splitting images once they talk Sci-fi, space and everything under the sun. Sidney flexes that he was able to hear Sputnik 1 late one night when it first launched in 1957. Danny is jealous about it but he gets the benefit of sharing all the new space stuff that has happened since the late 1950s. Sidney is happy to hear every word and finally have someone to share and relate his favorite things to for the first time in decades.

Ok that’s all in the hc/idea tank, @dnpanimationstudioclone thanks again for the awesome asks btw! Sorry this was longer than normal I just love my bro Sidney Poindexter.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sidney pointdexter #dp sidney #dp lunch lady #dp #dp hcs #phandom #dp princess dora #princess dorathea #sam manson #tucker foley #fav #my hcs #my ideas #danny phantom headcanon #Danny phantom hcs #ghostly chats #my asks

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a-schrodingers-fox · 1 year

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10 Characters From 10 Fandoms

How to play: Name 10 Characters from 10 fandoms and tag people

I was tagged by the amazing @br-disaster , thank you!!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

In no particular order. Most of them I have been obsessed with ever since I was a kid.

Nie Huaisang (CQL/MDZS) - The only reason it took me so long to do this was because I couldn’t decide between NMJ and NHS. Alas, I relate to NHS the most, he’s also an incredibly intricate character that lives in my head rent free.

Hatake Kakashi (Naruto) - Contrary to most people, I actually watched this show/read the manga until 2020 and I've been obsessed with this tragic overpowered ninja ever since. I think he is the character I have written/drawn the most about. I relate way too much to him, which is...strange. I am in love with his story and character development through the show.

Louis de Pointe du Lac (Interview With the Vampire) - I must confess I haven't yet read the book, but I watched the AMC show and I FELL IN LOVE. I have Ana to thank for introducing me to this amazing, complicated mess of a man.

Thranduil (The hobbit) - When I watched all LOTR movies, I was a kid and my aunt was babysitting and obviously I started obsessing over him and the elves when I read every Tolkien book I could get my hands on. I haven't written much about him but I do have a whole AU-Canon divergence for Oropher, Thranduil and Legolas half written on AO3. My version of Thranduil, Oropher’s line and the Greenwood elves is VERY different from the hobbit movies, though.

Ned the Pie Maker (Pushing daisies) - Tall, sensible, caring, harmless man who loves to bake and is also an accidental necromancer? YES, PLEASE.

Yue (Sakura Card-captor) - Imagine you are this super powerful supernatural being whose world gets turned upside down when the person you considered your everything dies. Imagine you get sealed inside the back cover of a book for 100 years and then inside the body of a teenager without being asked for consent and without being able to get out to live a normal life. You are also left without much of your power for a long time, and then you are given a ridiculously short amount of time to get used to everything that is going on around you while your twin and your other brothers and sisters get months to understand and process what happened. AND THEN it turns out that the dude that you loved so much didn’t died, instead reincarnated into some annoying bitch (who is now a different person than he was in his past life so meh) because he had some cosmic realization when he turned like 800 years old because being the most powerful magician in the world makes your common sense disappear, apparently...and then this annoying brat creates a cheap copy of you and your sibling, yikes. Imagine you really want to slap everyone but you dont want to set a bad example to the nice, cute girl who you depend on now, BUT DAMMIT IF YOU COULD YOU WOULD. Yeah. He's That Bitch™ and he deserves it. I support you, Yue.

Azula (Avatar: The Last Airbender) - She is definitively the character I relate to the most, like she was 14 and learned very soon what happens if you get on your father’s bad side. She's a prodigy and what she needed in the end was some psychological help and then the throne, bye.

Captain James T. Kirk (Star Trek) - I want to be a Starfleet captain so bad, ISTG. He’s so much, a drama queen, the voice of reason, a disaster waiting to happen, a feminist, queer, The Captain, a nuisance, the smartest person in the room, mister daddy issues, mister “bones get that hypospray off my face”, mister I am in love with this Vulcan, mister I am in love with this doctor, “Dammit Jim!”. Yeah, him.

Crowley (Good Omens) - I read the book when I was in high school, it was the first book I read in one sitting without getting distracted. I loved those two. I love Crowley and the fact that he is always trying to cause havoc through elaborate schemes that inconvenience the human race. Ahaha, he’s the best. (Yes, I loved the TV show).

Dorian (Almost Human) - HE JUST WANTS TO BE SEEN AS SOMETHING MORE THAN JUST A MACHINE. He’s sometimes more human than all the humans he works with. I love Dorian and Kennex, you bet I have read every single fic centered on him or both of them on AO3. I’m forever sad they cancelled that show.

I tag @pangzi and @dual-domination (only if you want to do it of course. Feel free to ignore this tag if you dont!)

#Thank you for tagging me!!!#ohh did I write too much? I have so many feelings about this bunch #tag games

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dollarbin · 8 months

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Dollar Bin #3:

Fairport Convention's Angel Delight

This album has never looked promising. John, Paul and George didn't break up and then let Ringo call himself The Beatles; Lou, Cale, Sterling and Mo didn't want what's his name to make a record and claim it was by the Velvet Undergound. And Dave Swarbrick had about as much of a right to lead Fairport Convention in 1970 as Lepidus had to lead the Roman Empire in 48 BCE. Right?

Well, let's dive back into the dollar bin and find out.

A year earlier, when Sandy Denny left Fairport to form Fotheringay with her loser boyfriend and Ashley Hutchinson beat his own retreat to assemble the first and greatest incarnation of Steeleye Span, there was still plenty to love about Fairport Convention. Richard Thompson, the band's gawky genius, was writing increasingly uncanny and harrowing songs. Now Be Thankful and Farewell, Farewell are so good that it seems like the band's pimply medieval apprentice had snuck off with the spell books and everyone's maidenhead. He was even learning, reluctantly, to sing.

What's more, the band's producer, Joe Boyd, was still firmly in the mix. Boyd had already played a role in many of the greatest records from the whole wonderful era, from The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter to Five Leaves Left. Thompson and Boyd made the band still vital.

What's even more, Fairport had already shown it could weather change. Two lead singers had already come and gone prior to Denny decamping. And, just before she left, they turned a fatal car crash into Liege and Leif, the founding, and greatest, record in the history of Folk Rock.

But in 1971, after a solid and occasionally brilliant 5th record and a (retrospectively anyway) historic tour of the US that saw Fairport blowing away Linda Ronstadt before inviting her on stage to play whatever she wanted with them, Thompson followed his muse right out of the convention's Full House and left Swarb in charge. Boyd was no fool; he hightailed it out of there as well. Dave Swarbrick, a homely but masterful fiddle player hooked on "diet pills" (as in Speed), was now the front man of one of the greatest rock bands in history. Uh-oh.

The cover for the next record, Angel Delight, is fitting: there they are, (see above), the lads left behind by everyone important, grinning savant-like midst the remains of a burnt out house. The joke is apt but discouraging: see here, the cover declares, the losers left behind in the wreckage.

And just take a look at these hobbits !

Seriously, doesn't this look like a Multiverse alternative of Aragorn (that's Thompson, in the middle) with Tolkien's plucky halflings? Moving right to left we've got the drummer, Dave Mattacks, standing in for Merry: Mattacks is the awkward, moody one in the fellowship with a forever kink in his neck, too shy to take off his looking glasses or his granddad's coat. Next up it's Dave Pegg, oddly tall for a hobbit, whose grandfather, legend has it, once rode a horse.

Beside Aragorn/Thompson we've got Swarb himself. Forever enveloped pipe smoke, he's a merry trickster whose sideburns run all the way down his four foot frame to his giant, hairy feet.

Finally, there's Simon Nicol at furthest left. After Thompson leaves he's the only guy not named Dave in the band, and they all lived together! Just imagine the conversation at dinner.

Nicol, looking up from his kippers on toast: "Dave?"

All three Daves, eagerly: "Yes Simon?"

Nicol: "Never feckin' mind."

Though Nicol was the only founding member left at this point, he was just 20, a young Took still not old enough for pipe weed. Clearly he's the only guy in the band with a chance of one day getting himself an elf wife.

Without Thompson, Denny, Boyd, Hutchings or even Ian Matthews, there's none of Frodo's constipational anxiety, let alone Gandalf's enormous eyebrows, left to be found in this band. If there's a ring of power to protect they've already lost it.

But drop the needle on side 1 and Angel Delight sounds instantly promising. Swarb's has clearly learned to sing and we bounce along merrily to the opening track, Lord Marlborough. Perhaps these hobbits know the way to Mordor after all!

Don't get too excited. Track 2, Sir William Gower, finds them playing like Fatty Bolger. The song surely records the exploits of yet another British miscreant, war hero or goofball but it's hard to care when the noodling melody sounds like the band is sitting in an 80's middle school circle at midnight, crank calling confused old ladies who happen to answer the seven digit meandering melodies the boys are making up on their parents' push-button phone. Swarb calls out the numbers while the other boys cackle and chase: 7! 8! 3! 4568! "Hello!" Swarb hollers into the phone. "Sorry to call so late mam. May I speak with a Sir William Gower please? What's that now? Wrong number? Well, what about a Mr. Head? First name Dick?"

The boys may fall over laughing but the song is a plodding bummer. So let's skip ahead to some greatness. Wizard of the Worldly Game isn't a dollar store tabletop Harry Potter knock off for 2-4 players that currently ranks last on Board Game Geek. It's a downright magestic song. Youtube contains zero tracks from this entire album (perhaps Muggles are forbidden to hear Angels Delight unless they brave the dollar bin) so I can't play it for you here. But it's lovely, with Swarb's tenor rising from tender to belting as the boys emerge from their respective holes on Bagshot Row to encircle him in stately harmony. Nicol is no Thompson on the electric guitar, but he knows it, and his solos here are patient and wonderful.

Journeyman's Grace, one of several songs co-written by Thompson before his departure, wraps up side 1 and it's a barnburner, with lyrics that are as oddly captivating and ineffable as anything Thompson would go on to write in his prestigious career:

Leave my weary flesh and bone to a circle made of stone Take me to the mountains for my pleasure. And if the dead man won't depart, drive a stake into his heart And let me ere deliver him his leisure.

The band hands the song's lead vocals back and forth like a hot tater, and listen to Swarb on the final chorus, hitting a high note and holding on like a puffed up Disney rooster.

Let's wrap up this visit to the dollar bin with a concert performance of the song from this era. Watch Swarb shuffle! Turns out the guy's yet another Fairport genius, and the band is in good hands after all.

youtube

#sandy denny #fairport convention #richard thompson #disney rooster #fatty bolger #david swarkbrick #Youtube

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