I love it when Elrond is portrayed as someone who is a little bit incomprehensible to most of the elves at first. Not even just because he's a half-elf, but because he reminds them all of so many other people, and that layering can be kind of jarring.

He sings beautifully, with a voice that sounds like no elf or man, and it reminds many of the Sindar of Luthien. It reminds some of the Noldor of someone else, another singer with raven-dark hair and starry gray eyes.

The braids he does his hair in– and he always keeps it braided at first, because letting it run loose is another thing that makes people whisper of Luthien– are in the traditional Noldor style. The survivors of Gondolin love that; Turgon always wore his hair in classical styles too. The other part of the House of Finwe that clung to traditional braids goes unmentioned. But everyone knows.

And he was clearly taught about court manners; taught to be gracious and charming, and a very good listener. The elf who could have taught Elrond those things is usually skipped over entirely, in favor of those reminiscing about Idril's graceful poise or Melian's endless patience.

He looks very much like Luthien, but there is a particular Finwean sharpness in his facial structure; something that makes him look a lot like Fingolfin, as well. Fingolfin looked very much like his father. And his older brother.

His smile is just like Earendil's (whose smile is just like Tuor's), and his strange, birdlike laugh is from Elwing. He fights and writes with his left hand– but then, so did Earendil, because while all elves are right-handed, not all humans or half-elves are. He eats no meat– just like Beren, they say, but the way Elrond tells it the choice had nothing to do with that history. There is ainuric power in him and something very human in the set of his shoulders. The flowers grow around any place he stays long enough. He gets sick in a way no elf, and certainly no maia, ever would. His accent is odd, and archaic, and changes noticeably when he's too tired to obscure it. His mannerisms are a mixture of about twelve people, almost all of whom are dead, and several of whom are not spoken of by the time he shows up in Gil-Galad's camp.

And the reflections of Elrond unsettle a lot of people; because one moment they see a fallen hero or loved one, and the next they see the person that took them. Or perhaps someone else, that they never knew at all. There is reverence and fear and uncertainty. It's messy.

Elrond himself is coming to peace with this by the War of Wrath. There is love in carrying the parts of your ancestors with you, even when they aren't around any more. And he knows better than anyone that he is always himself, first and foremost. Still, it takes everyone else a while to stop seeing a ghost and start seeing Elrond.

Tag ppl you wanna know betteeer

Tagged by: @funeralcity  I'm a sucker for these ngl

Last song: If He Holla - Armand Hammer; got into Billy Woods recently and a friend recced his previous duo, and the lyricism constantly blows me away

Favorite color: Red/orange, ever since I saw s-CRY-ed as a kid

Currently watching: Columbo and Star Trek TOS with the wife, and I've been watching Show Me a Hero, all of which I could talk about for an hour. Haven't seen a good anime in a minute tbh, want to watch Big O with the wife next

Last movie: Muppets Take Manhattan. Me and my wife never watched the Muppet movies before and unfortunately the follow ups haven't been as good as the original movie, which was an 11/10

Currently reading: Animorphs. I failed once again to get into Imperial Radch and started these on a whim and they fucking rule, I keep thinking how funny my mental illnesses would have been if I read these as a kid, I would have kinned Rachel so hard it would have been a problem

Sweet/spicy/savory: Savory is king

Relationship status: Coming up on married for seven years, together 12

Current obsessions: Unfortunately I'm between obsessions rn, I've been really struggling to find something new to latch onto and pour my brain in

Last googled: Zac Elrond. Group call was trying to see if anyone had made this joke already and they surprisingly hadn't

Currently working on: Just living man

I never tag anyone in these because I know I am the only sucker for these, but there's some moots I don't know as well and would love to hear from @zendoe @politcallycorrectkeyboardwarrior @gravemushrooms (No pressure tho you guys just seem cool)

Some last minute thoughts and wishes before episode 7 comes and become the game changer that will ruin all theories.

I don't know if i lost for good my theory that the Stranger was Sauron because episode 5 ruined it almost completely but not totally.

I guess he wasn't wrong to wake up grumpy (and to kill few fireflies or bend the trees and make the land tremble in the process) after being sent like a meteorit to the other side of Midde Earth, and after ending with half of his brain so fried that he couldn't remember his name and even started eating paper.

So let's say he's an istari, possibly even Gandalf or Saroumane, asked to carry the mission to help the side of the elves and humans to form an alliance against Sauron, how did the Valar know that Sauron was going to make his move even though he was hiding under a different form all this time and acting like a deceiver? Even the eruption of Mount Doom wasn't his work unless Adar lied and he is Sauron.

Did they really sent a powerful maia for one moriondor and hundred orcs that an army of 500 Nùmenoreans has beat easily? If it wasn't for the hilt, Adar would have been completely defeated.

Did they foresee that the hilt will be discover and chaos will ensue? Then why not sent their messenger directly to the Southlands to retrieve it before the dark forces could put their hands on it? And why sent him in this miserable state? Has he been attacked during his trip by the Mystics and is it the reason of his amnesia? Was he forced to change his destination? Is the fire without a heat felt by Nori just a maia thing, shared by Sauron in Morgoth's lair?

In all cases, if this theory is crushed, it won't be my biggest regret because i wanted it to be true only for Nori's character development and the fact that she was never be exposed to corruption and deceit before him. It would have been too a good explanation of why Sauron doesnt' take the Hobbits seriously.

My biggest regret would be, after rereading all those old arguments i wrote and left in my drafts, for my other favourite theory to not be true either: Arondir as Sauron.

I don't have the time and the space to explain all my reasons but damn if he wouldn't have been the best Sauron!

I mean physically, intellectually and strategically (well except for the way he has hidden the hilt), he's so superior to everyone surrounding him, including the other elves of his company.

I've rewatched since few hours all his scenes and few facts surprised me: like he's been in every episode of season 1. The only other character with Galadriel to have been constantly on screen, and sometimes even when the the Southlanders were absent (episode 3 Adar), though he didn't have the same number of scenes as Galadriel of course.

The thought of Arondir being more than he seems hit me again while watching him defending alone Ostirith. It struck me that his speed, strength, and agility were on a level i've never seen any elf shown before, except Galadriel (when she killed the troll) As an elf, of course, he's gifted with many supernatural abilities: piercing sight as confirmed by Galadriel during her talk with Isildur, and piercing hearing as showed by Elrond when he spied on Durin and Disa, but Arondir has always been different: he has always dominated everyone else, in every way. A true image of grace and balance, of perfection even during fights. Something i imagine that Sauron would want to project, as being himself obsessed by Order and Control.

It's hard to deny that he's beautiful as a fallen angel should be and the casting magnificently reflects that. It's not a shallow comment: everything about Ismael Cruz Cordova's look conveys the idea there's something surnatural about his appearance even for an elf: from the natural elegance of his movement to his gorgeous skin color. In return he's attracted by beauty: by the human fragile beauty of Bronwyn, by the wild beauty of The Southlands. He said to Bronwyn: "beauty has a great power to heal the soul" and that's how i imagine that Sauron would have tried to heal his soul from his past actions as the "beautiful servant": immersing himself in the beauty.

He didn't want to leave the Mordor Southlands with his company. a place that combines beauty (it has recovered from the destruction of war) and darkness (their inhabitants are still the descendent of the men who are linked by a blood oath to Morgoth). Arondir has always assumed the fact that he was drawn to this land and its inhabitants, which makes perfect sense if he's Sauron considering his connection to Orodruin.

In episode 1, he went alone in the tunnels which shows an incredible confidence in his ability to survive, and surprisingly almost no fear, not even after he saw the devastation inflicted on the village of Haldern.

He never sent for help from the other elves (it's strange that nobody reacted in Lindon to this garrison that never came back home, despite the king's order to disband the outpost).

In episode 3, he fought and reacted with a precision that is mindblowing and that no other elf of his company showed (not even the watchwarden): during the escape attempt, he was the only one bold enough to take an axe and destroy the tent that was hiding the orcs from the sun, strong enough to chain the warg alone, restrained it alone and killed it alone (in a spectacular move). This scene is only surpassed by his fight with the giant orc in episode 6.

In episode 4, after he was freed by Adar and returned to the village, he sliced an orc (using Galadriel's technique shown in episode 5) as if he had done that all his life, while he was supposed to have never seen one before. He said to the watchwarden that he was a sower before his assignment to the Southlands, but the region was supposed to be in peace since the defeat of Morgoth and the escape of Sauron (Adar said that Sauron had gathered all the last evil forces and lead them to the extreme north).

And later in the forest when Theo and him were pursued by the orcs, the way he avoided and caught an arrow with his bare hand and sent it back, killing the orc he targeted all while never stopping, was incredible.

But it's in episode 6 that the clues seem the most significative: one of them was when Adar was inside Ostirith tower before its fall, and Waldreg and an orc came at the same time to talk to him. The dialogues were a strange merger between these two discussions as if they were about the same person, whereas the orc was talking about Arondir while Waldreg was talking about Sauron:

Waldreg: Meaning no offense, Lord-father, but where is he? What happened to Sauron?

The Orc: Can't find tooth nor tail of him. Must've got smart and scarpered.

Adar: No. The Elf's here. I smell him.

And like i said, he destroyed alone the watchtower, plus his fight with the giant orc in the village was spectacular in every way.

I like him too as Sauron, because i like the parallels he had with Adar: the connection through the seeds, the promise of a new Eden/life made to Bronwyn after the battle while Adar promised a home to his orcs, their past meetings in which they didn't try to kill each other while having every reason to do so, the idea that instead the writers opted for a game between the two dark leaders: Arondir/Sauron trying to stop Adar to find the sword hilt and using the men of Bronwyn's village to fight for him again, unknown to them, and slow down Adar.

Not every details matches this theory of course: he was shown as being in love with Bronwyn though he never said the words, but can Sauron love or does he only fake it? He did a bad job with the hilt from his failure at hiding it to his inability to recognize it had been replaced by an axe, but did he really want to stop Adar at the end? Or was he pissed off that Halbrand was "crowned" in front of him (the camera focused on Galadriel and him in this moment: he seemed surprised/shocked by this sudden action, while Galadriel was cheering Halbrand, waiting for him to say yes when he was asked by Bronwyn if he was the king promised)? If so, it would explain why he didn''t check the hilt Galadriel gave him: Arondir was shown trying to destroy it for few long minutes before the battle. Even as a simple elf, he had very good eyes to notice details and would have recognized the difference in the weight and form with the axe, under the burlap in which it was wrapped. And if he was Sauron, he had every reason to say nothing: he wanted the land for himself and so he abandoned his attempt to stop Adar, who became conveniently the new Sauron, a fake one, but enough convincing to be shipped to Nùmenor while Arondir heads to Eregion.

I wish it was the case because there was never on the show a character as charismatic and powerful (except the Stranger), as good in term of characterization, certainly not Halbrand, to play the part of Sauron.

Part 13 @luna-xial

“Tell no one off my presence.” He has a shocked look on his face when I leave, causing me to chuckle. I go to my room and I begin hearing more voices come into the house and I speak with Bilbo through my mind. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here please.” I can practically hear him nod. I hear more shouting and voices. I begin seeing the orcs again and start panicking again until Bilbo comes into the room and rushes to me in order to calm me down. “I don’t like yelling. Make it stop! Please…” Bilbo calms me down and nods. He runs out and Gandalf yells for everyone to be quieter but I can hear Bilbo slapping his head, shaking it. It makes me laugh but I quiet down quickly. I hear the rowdy people start singing about the things Bilbo hates.

Blunt the knives, bend the forks

Smash the bottles and burn the corks

Chip the glasses and crack the plates

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

Cut the cloth, tread on the fat

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat

Pour the milk on the pantry floor

Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowls

Pound them up with a thumping pole

When you're finished if they are whole

Send them down the hall to roll

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

I had come out and was just listening in the shadows. I caught a glimpse of one of them and realized one thing. These are dwarfs!! I was so excited because I had never met a dwarf before and I liked dwarfs. Thranduil would be so disappointed. I laughed at the thought. A silent laugh. There’s a knock on the door so I walk over to it and open it but instead of showing my face. The person that was knocking walks in and stops. I really need to think before I do anything. I don’t know what to do. I can’t close the door then everyone can see me. I pull my wings and tail in and now I only have the appearance of an elf. If they are dwarfs they aren’t going to like that though. Bilbo closes the door and I stay standing there with my eyes screwed shut. My eyes changed to an unsettling gold color. Some may wonder how I know. Depending on the eye color my eyes have a tint to them in that color. I hear a few people start whispering to one another and I hear a sharp gasp come from both Handalf and Bilbo. I can feel my eyes go back to blue. My normal eye color is red and no one would like that so for six stupid years I have had to go without my normal eye color. I open my eyes and gasp, noticing some of the weapons they carry. I wave and rush off, trying to get to another room but before I can, a voice called out, “wait! Who are you?” I slowly turn around and come face to face with a dwarf. Long black hair and a long black beard, both with some noticeable gray. In my brain I begin to understand who he is when I remember his name. Thorin Oakenshield. I respond in a quiet almost whisper, “my name is Ecko…” several of their heads shoot up at my name and I just look down. “Are you the missing daughter of lord Elrond?!” A dwarf with almost-star looking hair practically yells. In answer I just put my hair behind one of my ears. I hear collective gasps and look back up to see multiple dwarfs looking at me with a weird, angry glintnin there eyes. I shift my head to look back down and begin to walk soundlessly to the room I have been inhabiting these past years. A few hours later I hear a knock on my door. When I open it I see 3 dwarfs standing outside of it. One I can only assume is Thorin, one with a long white beard and white hair, and last is a dwarf with no hair besides the hair on each side of his head and his beard. I let them come in. “Thorin.” “Balin” “Dwalin” they all introduce themselves. I nod and mutter out my name, “Ecko.” They all nod and Thorin continues talking, “If you truly are Elrond's daughter then alright but I think I could tolerate you for a little while. I’m willing to let you come with us back to your home town or until we get close enough. We aren’t actually going inside Rivendell.” I nod before questioning the thought that has been plaguing my mind, “I was wondering If I could possibly accompany you in your journey to reclaim the mountain. I know you don’t like elves but I would like to go on an adventure. I just barely finished healing from orcs but I still wish to accompany you.” The eyes of the three dwarfs widen and they go over to where they think I can’t hear them. I can but I ignore them. When they get back to standing in front of me they all look at each other one more time before I am presented with a long slip of paper. “This here is the terms and agreements. The things that could happen, things like that.” Balin says. I take it and read over the entire thing. Death. Death. More death. Danger. My kind of adventure. I go over to my desk and sign my name at the bottom. Once I’m done with that I hand over the paperwork. Balin gave me a smile and exclaimed, “ Welcome Ecko, daughter of Elrond to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.” I nod and all three of us walk out of my room only to find Bilbo in an armchair arguing with Gandalf about adventure. We all make it to the living room and all the dwarfs are there. They all look at me with acceptance instead of anger and hate. Gandalf soon joined us and asked me, “Tell us a story, young one.” I just chuckle and shake my head.

Elrond x Platonic!Reader - Langour

For: @ramyun-monster​ ~by request via PM Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff. Sindarin translations:

mellon nín - my friend

tithen pen - little one 

lan·guor | \ ˈlaŋ-gər  also -ər \

(n) weakness or weariness of body or mind

You’re in the library again with a stack of books by your elbow. The sunlight streaming in through the tall, open windows is normally comforting but today it just lances into your eyes-- bright enough to hurt. The top of your skull is starting to feel like it’s about to slide off. And, vaguely, you’re aware of the fact that you’ve been staring at the same page for the past half-hour and you aren’t making any progress. 

Frustrated, you slam the book shut with more force than you meant. If Erestor was here, he’d shoot you a disapproving glare. You wince and take more care as you gather up the stack you’ve borrowed and stand, meaning to take them back to shelve them where they belong. It’s then, when you pick up the last book off the writing desk and the pile of papers beneath it reveals itself, that you spot your to-do list and realize you’ve only done a quarter of it. 

The room tilts for a second.

You’re not sure if it’s anxiety, or exhaustion, or you’re getting sick, or some cocktail of the three. The list stares at you, mocking you, long and overwhelming, and you have to set the books back on top of it just so you don’t have to look at it anymore. 

Your heart won’t slow down, and your stupid brain won’t stop thinking about that list, running through it over and over and worrying that you’ve forgotten something on it. You’ve just been so busy and-- you probably are getting sick. The headaches are always the first warning, but with everything you have to get done you can’t afford to be sick and that just makes the stress worse-- which of course is just going to make you get even more sick-- and 

Oh god. 

“Deep breaths, mellon nín.” 

The voice cuts straight through the haze swirling around you: rich with time, warm and kind like summer, and currently it carries an edge of concern that’s unmistakable. 

“Sit,” Lord Elrond commands, and tugs the chair out so you have space to sink into it. Instantly you feel both embarrassed and guilty-- because he’s way busier than you are. 

“Sorry,” you manage, trying to school your breathing so your heart will stop racing. It’s just making the headache worse. “I’m fine.”

“You are not,” he replies as he presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “I could feel your heartbeat through the floor all the way out in the hall. And,” he tisks, “You have the beginnings of a fever. Look at me.” 

It’s gentle but said in such a way that you obey at once. Lord Elrond pulls up a nearby writing chair, adjusts his sleeves, and takes both of your hands. “Match my breaths.” 

He takes deep, slow ones, and you do your best to comply. Warmth bleeds through his hands into yours, up through your body, curling around your spine, easing the whipcord tension that has been spiraling there during the past week, and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s intentional magic or if it’s just what happens when you’re around Lord Elrond. Maybe it’s a bit of both. He’s so calm and steady and patient and nothing in his expression or body language implies this is an inconvenience for him. 

At last you start to feel calm, and as soon as it’s there the exhaustion sets in and all of your limbs feel heavy and your head feels way too light.

“Thank you,” you manage a smile and start to pull away, intending to go back to your books, but he keeps one of your hands in his firm grasp and places the other on top of the stack. 

“It can wait.”

“I’m not even halfway through--”

“--and you will not make any more progress like this,” he says. “And it would be irresponsible of me indeed if I allowed you to try.” 

He stands again, smoothing out his robes, and then reaches over you to lift the stack of books and set them aside, and then sweeps all of the papers into your folder before you can even get a glimpse of them again. 

“The books,” you protest.

“Iûldis will not mind,” he counters easily, and puts a hand on your shoulder to guide you firmly out of the library. His pace is sedate, as always, and it’s easy to keep up with him despite how much longer his legs are compared to yours. He leads you up to your room, opens the door for you, and ushers you inside without leaving any room for argument. After that, he crosses the room to shut the folder in the desk drawer and you sink onto the bed and let out a long breath. He draws the curtains closed and the room slips into blessed darkness. 

He tells you he’ll return in a moment, then steps out and heads down the hall. At this point, now that the room is dark and the full brunt of how tired you are is upon you, you wouldn’t be able to get up and go back to your work if you tried. In fact, it’s taking all of your willpower just to stay upright.

There’s still the nagging thought that Lord Elrond shouldn’t be bothering with you. And really, you should have gone to one of the healers already instead of letting it get to this point, but what’s done is done and you’re just grateful that he noticed and wrangled you up to your room to rest. 

He knocks before coming in, and when he comes back to your side he has a cup with a thick medicine in it which you wrinkle your nose at. An amused smile twitches at the corners of his mouth as he holds it out to you. 

“It is not as bad as it seems, I promise, and if you take it and sleep,” he emphasizes the word, as if he’s worried you won’t, “--then the illness will be gone by the time you wake.”

And he’s right, of course. You take it and down it in one gulp. While it has a bitter aftertaste it mostly tastes of honey and mint and elderberries. It isn’t the worst medicine he’s ever handed you. As you set the cup aside, he presses his hand to your forehead again and the headache pounding behind your eyes eases and your limbs grow even heavier-- but this time it’s the pleasant kind of heavy. 

“Sorry,” you mumble again, because it’s the only thing you can manage at this point. Unable to stay upright any longer, you sink down and curl up under the covers. 

“You are not a bother,”  he insists. “Go to sleep, tithen pen.” 

You’re powerless to fight it anymore. As you drift on the twilight edge between sleep and consciousness, you can swear that you feel him kiss your forehead before he leaves you to your rest.

LotR/HP AU: Concerning the Marauders & Others

It's the 1970s. Four boys are sorted into Gryffindor, all from old and well-respected Wizarding families: Aragorn Elessar, Legolas Greenleaf, Gimli Durinson of the half-dwarven Durinson Clan (cousins to the famed Oakenshields), and Boromir Steward. They become fast friends (well, "friendly" in Legolas and Gimli's case; ever since that fateful day during their first Flying lesson with Prof. Ironfoot where Gimli was ready to show off his prowess after hours of practicing with his cousins and Legolas goes and one-ups him by demonstrating a natural skill with the broom, it. was. ON.), and created a magical map to help them navigate Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest and learn their secrets. They're known as The Four Hunters, though over time their quartet would become a trio and gain a more dubious reputation as tragic events shaped the Wizarding World and friends fell out with each other.

(Like Aragorn lost Arathorn and Gilraen, Boromir would lose his mother Finduilas to the Deatheaters, and in his grief, he blamed Aragorn, and may or may not have encouraged their classmates to ostracize him. He also wanted to protect Faramir, who was a young Hogwarts student at the time, from anyone and anything that could hurt his baby brother)

(Arwen would also lose her mother Celebrian, who was one of the first casualties of the war. She and Aragorn would comfort each other in their grief over shared loss. They were already friends before this, and Aragorn had a huge crush on her, but this brought them closer together)

I imagine the faculty during this era looked something like this:

Gandalf Greyhelm: Deputy-Headmaster, Head of Gryffindor House (replacing Cirdan Shipwright when he retired), and Head of the Transfiguration Department

Elrond Evenstar: Head of Ravenclaw House and Head of the Charms Department (also taught Divination as an elective when Galadriel left in 1981)

Galadriel Lightwood: Head of Slytherin House, Head of the Astronomy Department, and Professor of Divination

Radagast Brownrigg: Head of Hufflepuff, Head of the Herbology Department, and Professor of Creature Care

Saruman Whitecloak: Headmaster of Hogwarts (left in 1981 to run for Minister of Magic)

Grima Wormtounge: Potions Master

Dain Ironfoot: Flying Instructor

And the faculty during the Hobbits' era looks like this:

Gandalf Greyhelm: Headmaster of Hogwarts (1981-present)

Elrond Evenstar: Deputy-Headmaster, Head of Charms and Ravenclaw House (retired Spring 1993 -- replaced by Erestor Rivers in all three disciplines)

Halbarad Northman: Head of Defence Against the Dark Arts and Gryffindor House (1982-present; can't hold down a member of his faculty to save his life)

Radagast Brownrigg: Care of Magical Creatures, Head of Herbology and Hufflepuff House (disappeared Spring 1993 -- replaced by George Maggot as Department and House heads)

Grima Wormtounge: Head of Potions and Slytherin House (1981-present; Gimli hates having him for a boss)

Balin Durinson: Defence Against the Dark Arts (1991-92)

Glorfindel Goldheart: Defence Against the Dark Arts (1992-93)

Aragorn Elessar: Defence Against the Dark Arts (1993-)

Arwen Evenstar: Divination, Department of Charms (1993-)

Gimli Durinson: Potions Master (1991-)

Legolas Greenleaf: Herbology (1991-)

Eowyn Eorlson: Care of Magical Creatures, Department of Herbology (1993-)

Boromir Steward: Flying Instructor and Quidditch Coach (1989-)

AAHHH ANON YOURE BACK!!! and i'm once again so so sorry that i didn't reply to these asks earlier!! please know that i read this with the BIGGEST smile on my face hjkdgsfxc i'm losing my mind at all details you included, honestly your BRAIN how are you so creative i don't even-

definitely didn't get emotional imagining the four hunters running around hogwarts together causing mischief nope no sir 🥺🤧 they fit so well as the marauders, what a stroke of genius. i'm curious if they're still animagi in this universe....

the faculties are absolutely perfect too, also the surnames you gave everyone are spot on!! grima as head of potions and slytherin house fits surprisingly well - although it's maybe not that surprising. he's a greasy, weaselly bastard just like snape was. also i may or may not have screamed when you mentioned cirdan qsdfgkxc thank you for including my boy 💕💕💕

(the previous parts of this AU if anyone’s interested. it’s so freaking good)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Double Heart | Chapter Eighteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4719

Warnings: None

A/n Happy Monday! Oh, and if you like Bucky Barnes, I just posted a one-shot for him! You can find it here. Now, on to the story you came here for!

Late in August, three months after arriving in this new world, plans are made to travel to Lothlórien.

Lavandil’s tearful sniffles in the back of her shop clued me in before someone had officially told me, and my heart goes out to her.

“It gets harder every time,” she had muttered, staring at the ground. “Every time we are separated, a piece of me goes with him.”

Her words have not left my mind since.

They are not even bonded, yet the way not being with him pains her…it breaks my heart in a way that is almost too personal.

Our company is set to leave in five days. In my time here, I have amassed only a small number of belongings, so packing will be easy. I am prepared to go long before the others, who have somehow become busier in these last few days. Even Rumil, who has basically become my best friend these past few months, declines my offer to go riding, citing that he and his brothers have much to do in their remaining time here.

So, with no one to help me occupy my time, I end up in the gardens. I pass the afternoon away wandering through the endless labyrinth, discovering more blossoms that make me sneeze and some that don’t. I pick a few — Elrond said it was alright — to press in one of the journals I’ve acquired — a gift from Lavandil. The journal and the flowers will be keepsakes, tangible memories of my time here in Imladris.

A time I desperately do not want to forget.

In the back of my mind, lurking on the edge of my thoughts is a constant fear — the fear that, at any moment, the work with Elrond will prove fruitful and my memories will come rushing back — at the cost of my memories from my time here in Arda.

A bright, bluish-purple burst under the hedges distracts me from that anxious thought.

A cornflower, fallen to the ground and blown far from its bush by the wind.

I crouch, reaching under the green shrubbery.

“Lady Cosima?”

Flower in hand, I straighten, turning at the sound of the voice.

“Glorfindel!” I’m mildly shocked. Since his argument with Haldir, I’ve seen little of him. Seeming uncertain, he walks to meet me, bowing when he plants his feet.

I curtsey, though I can’t help but chuckle lightly at his formality. “You can just call me Cosima,  you know. I’m not anyone important.”

Glorfindel shakes his head slowly, the edges of a smile playing at his lips. “I would be inclined to disagree with your statement, my dear Lady. It seems you have not only captured the attention of two worlds, but of my elven friends.” Before I can ask exactly what he means by that, Glorfindel furrows his eyebrows, gesturing to our surroundings. “I am surprised to find you here this evening. I would have thought you would be preparing for your departure.”

I twirl the cornflower between my fingers. “There’s nothing much for me to prepare. And it doesn’t seem I can be of much help to the others, either.”

A twinkle enters his eye, reminiscent of the playfulness he had the last time I interacted with him. “So you are trying to soak up all that Lord Elrond’s gardens have to offer?”

I smile, taking a look around. “It’s not a bad way to pass the time. I don’t know if Lothlórien will have all these flowers, so I’m taking a couple with me.” Unnecessarily, I hold up the growing bouquet in my hands. “But enough about me, why are you here at this time of day? Don’t you have a million things to do?”

Glorfindel grins, now fully the man I met upon first arriving here. “Ah, you’ve caught me. I am shirking my duties, but!” He holds up a hand to stop my nonexistent chiding. “I will pay for it tonight. Your Marchwarden and I have plans after dinner to surprise one of the border stations. We are going to creep through the area unannounced and see how long it takes for them to discover us. Surely we will be gone until morning.”

I gulp. My Marchwarden? I try to cover up how much that phrase affects me. “So, are you two back to being friends? Or are you still at odds?”

Thankfully, Glorfindel doesn’t get upset by the words I spoke without thought. “Yes, yes, we have been reconciled for weeks now. It is not uncommon for such strong personalities to disagree. All is well — I would have thought he told you.”

I shrug, trying to make the motion look natural even though I suddenly feel like every eye in Imladris is scrutinizing the movement. “We haven’t had the chance to talk much.”

Glorfindel smirks. “Ah, yes, I wondered why my friend had been even more stern than usual as of late.”

I freeze, and the question escapes my mouth before I can stop it. “What do you mean?”

No, Cosima, I chide. Do not engage!

But Glorfindel has already broadened his grin, evidently happy to indulge my pointless question. “He’s increased drills and border patrols, added requirements for promotions, re-worked the training schedule at least five times — he’s even taken his frustrations out on the guard — I worry more when they fight him than if they were facing a pack of orcs!” He laughs, but, after a moment, his expression softens into one of understanding. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

My eyes drop to the flowers in my hand. I twirl the cornflower again, scrutinizing its color.

It is the wrong shade of blue.

“No, nothing happened,” I respond, still not able to meet Glorfindel’s gaze. His questions and the lack of judgement in his voice lead me to share more than I should. “I…I think we both realized we were headed for something dangerous and it’s better to stop while we can.”

“I see,” he mutters, taking in a deep breath. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I force a smile, not wanting to dwell on something that already keeps me up at night. Time to change the subject. “I don’t know about you, but I’m quite hungry. Would you like to join me for dinner? Lavandil and Orophin will be there as well.”

His face breaks into an easy smile, though there’s something off in his eyes. He sweeps his hand forward, indicating his agreement. “Lead the way, my dear Lady.”

{***}

I stare at the clothes laid out on my bed, relying on the meager candlelight to tell me what each item of fabric is.

Lord Elrond said I was welcome to take home any of the pieces I wanted, but the space in my bag will only allow for a few of them. Turns out, the choice is harder than I thought it would be. I have no desire to wear the same outfit the whole time like I had to on the journey to Imladris. That means I should pack more tunic and legging sets. But there are so many pretty gowns I want to take — it doesn’t help that, as part of the payment for helping in her store, Lavandil took me shopping a couple of times. I look over my dresses, all equally loved.

I purse my lips. I know Rumil has three bags…perhaps he would be willing to donate one of them to a good cause. Lavandil hasn’t taken him shopping, so surely he has room to spare.

I creep out of my room, mindful to keep quiet at this late hour. Rumil’s likely to be awake — that ellon is a night owl if I’ve ever met one. I reach his door and knock softly.

But when the door opens, it’s not Rumil on the other side.

It’s Haldir.

I stop breathing. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

He steps back somewhat robotically, making space for me to enter the room. “Cosima.”

I freeze, unable to connect my brain to my feet to tell them to move. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re supposed to be gone.”

Haldir opens and closes his mouth, likely figuring out how to respond to something that sounded very much like an accusation. “I—ah, I apologize? Do you want me to—”

“No, I uh—” I look to the ground, trying to gather my hopelessly scattered thoughts. Being near him again takes me right back to the state I’ve tried desperately to avoid. “Sorry, no, I only meant that I ran into Glorfindel a few hours ago and he said the two of you would be gone tonight. I came looking for Rumil.”

“Oh.” Haldir furrows his eyebrows, though it looks like the initial shock has faded. “I am sorry — I sent him out tonight in my place. I planned on using this time to write out instructions for training after I am gone.”

I can’t keep myself from smiling. So dutiful. “That’s nice of you.”

Haldir shrugs, looking thrown by the compliment. “It’s my job.”

I blink, realizing that, both mercifully and sadly, I no longer have an excuse to stay here. I should go.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” I take a step back.

“Cosima, wait.”

I halt my exit, but remind myself of my resolve.

Haldir shifts on his feet before rolling back his shoulders, holding the door open with one hand. “I need a break from writing. Would you like to go for a walk?”

Your resolve, Cosima.

I search for any excuse, anything to give me a reason to say no when I so badly want to say yes. “I don’t have my cloak.”

The edges of Haldir’s lips twitch. “Now that, I may have a solution for. Wait here.”

I should go.

Just wait to see what this ‘solution’ is, I rationalize.

Haldir turns and nearly jogs to the wardrobe, burying his upper half inside until he emerges with a sage green bundle. He returns, presenting the neatly folded fabric to me. “This is for you.”

I blink in surprise, taking the bundle from his outstretched hand. Slowly, I unfurl it, and it falls into a sturdy, finely woven cloak. I look up at Haldir and then back to the garment, unsure of why he’s just handed me this, but nonetheless, pleased.

“You cannot wear your red one while we travel,” he explains. “This will blend in much better with our surroundings. Lavandil advised on the measurements, but if it’s too long, there’s still time to get it hemmed before we leave.”

I smile, running my fingers over the soft interior and the slicker outside. “What’s it made of?”

“Wool, but I asked the seamstress to assist in making it as waterproof as possible.” I look up at him sharply, surprised that he would think to include this. “I worry we will encounter rain again and I would hate to have you shivering like last time.”

I run my fingers over the fabric with a new fondness. I’m grateful and more touched than I would like to admit. “Thank you Haldir, really. This is so thoughtful. And practical.” I can’t help but laugh, looking up at him with a sudden onslaught of nerves. “Just like you.”

He smiles almost bashfully, dipping his head in acknowledgement of my words. “I’m glad you like it.”

I swing the cloak around my shoulders, pulling my hair through the back so it lays against the outside of the fabric. Haldir grabs the bag that rests on the hook by the door and retrieves another one of those beautiful leaf-shaped clips. He steps forward and slowly reaches his hands to where my cloak rests along my collarbones. He gathers the fabric and weaves it through the clip, securing the ends. He rests his hands there for just a moment and then steps back, nodding to himself.

“Perfect,” he breathes.

I blink. I have a cloak now. There’s no reason to say no. “Let’s go for that walk.”

Smiling in a soft, hesitant way, he grabs his own cloak and clip from their place near the door and we step outside of his room. In silence, mindful of the late hour, he leads me down a spiral staircase tucked into a corner I’ve never noticed before. As we descend, the sound of water crashing gets louder and the peace of the estate fades.

I halt and, a few stairs below me, Haldir stops too.

“Are we going below the city?”

He looks up at me — I can barely see his face in the dark. “It is perfectly safe — there are no heights to be conscious of.”

It feels wrong to make sound in the darkness, so when I speak, it’s barely more than a whisper. “Okay. I believe you.”

In the dim light, Haldir’s hand reaches up to me. I stare at it, feeling my jaw fall slightly.

“I think you will like where we’re going.” The darkness, the sound of his voice, just being with him after so much time apart — it’s too much.

I exhale a shallow breath.

I place my hand in his.

Tingles shoot up my arm.

We reach the bottom of the staircase, and he doesn’t let go.

It’s dark here, too, and I find myself drawing nearer to him. My arm brushes his and I suck in a breath, both of us laughing nervously. Haldir seems to know the way. His path is confident and sure as he leads us underneath the stone and earth of the city. Then, in a burst of clear blue light, we break from the darkness and arrive on soft grass.

I can see Haldir better now. Everything about him seems to almost glow in the moonlight. He smiles softly, tugging on my hand to encourage me to follow him closer to the water that lies ahead of us. I glance between us to where our hands meet, wrapped around each other.

It feels natural. It feels right.

I should let go.

I grip his hand tighter.

The stone holding up the city gives way to taller grass and trees whose low, swinging branches brush over us as we pass. Ahead lies a rippling lake — across it, waterfalls crash down, their thunderous roar diminished by the distance. Haldir takes us almost to the edge of the shore, then surprises me by pulling me to the left. We duck under a particularly low branch, Haldir almost having to double over completely. I laugh, bending down next to him, and he looks up at me with a carefree grin. We pass under the branch and emerge in a small clearing — an alcove, really. Behind us and to our left are tall, leafy trees, to our right is the stone of the mountain, and ahead, surely for miles and miles, lies the lake. Moonlight dances atop it, glinting in a way that makes it sparkle. And above it, in an endless stretch of sky—stars, a million of them, at least.

Haldir turns to face me.

I suck in a breath.

His eyes — I’ve always admired them, even when they held nothing more than indifference to me — seem to shine in a way I’ve never seen before. They gleam like living starlight, depthless and enchanting. The colors of the night drape him in a glow of soft blue, highlighting the strong edges of his jaw. He looks powerful, beautiful, otherworldly.

This is the first time I’ve truly understood the etherial beauty of an elf.

He smiles down at me expectantly. “Was I right?”

I exhale somewhat shakily, nodding my head. “Yes. Yes, you were right. This place is stunning.”

His smile broadens and he releases my hand to unclasp his cloak.

I miss the warmth of his hand encasing mine.

But I do get my wish from earlier today. Just as he did all those months ago, he lays his cloak on the ground, gesturing for me to sit. I do, folding my legs to the side to allow him room next to me. Before he can say anything, the nerves get the best of me, and I blurt out the first, most basic question that comes to mind. “How was your day?”

He smiles, stretching his legs out on the cloak. “My day went well, thank you. Glorfindel and I spent this morning debating the merits of extending Elrond’s borders by twenty or so miles — it would mean the guards have more land to protect, yes, but it would also provide a larger distance for any intruders to cross, should they break through the barrier. That could give the guard precious extra time to organize and combat the threat.”

I tilt my head. “So what did you decide?”

Haldir raises his shoulders then lets them fall, the action hinting at underlying stress. “It is not our decision, we were merely debating. The choice lies with Lord Elrond, and I cannot say what he will do.”

I chuckle, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “You’re always steps ahead of everyone else. Come on, what do you think he’ll do?”

He sighs. “I think he will not expand the borders. Elrond cares about the security of his people, yes, but he still believes there is potential to stop this evil before his people will have to confront it.”

Tension gathers in the small of my back. Are we really that close to a fight? “And you disagree?”

“I did not mean to scare you.” He avoids answering my question directly.

I shake my head slowly, thinking over his words. Wary, yes, but scared? “I have gotten tougher, you know.”

Haldir smiles and lets out a soft laugh. "Now, that, I would have to agree with." He rolls his sleeve up to his bicep and holds out his arm. I squint in the moonlight, trying to make out whatever he's attempting to show me. "See this?" I shake my head, and Haldir laughs more freely now. "It is almost a bruise from where you hit me two days ago."

Now, I join him in his laughter, remembering my attempt to break free from his grasp during training. “You better watch out," I joke. "Soon I'll be able to put you on the ground."

Haldir schools his laughter but the edges of his lips stay quirked. "I'm sure."

I snort. “No, I actually believe that someday soon I’ll be able to beat you. Or, at the very least, catch you off your guard.”

I don’t actually believe that, of course, but it’s worth the exaggeration to see Haldir’s terrible attempt at pretending to agree with me.

“Ah, perhaps, yes. I would not entirely rule the possibility out.”  

“Liar.” I roll my eyes and grin good-naturedly.

He merely holds my gaze with a smile of his own and raises an eyebrow.

I shudder out a breath. I wish he wouldn’t look at me that way. It makes me want things I absolutely can’t act on.

I force my eyes to return to the water, searching for a way to expel the tension that has somehow gathered in the air. “What made you want to come here?”

He shrugs, leaning back on one hand in a way that is almost arrestingly casual, because I do not feel casual. “It’s peaceful, it’s away from the bustle of the city…and it reminds me of home.” He smiles, craning his head back to view the moon and the stars. My eyes follow the length of his neck before correcting themselves to also look at the stars. “In Caras Galadon we live in talans built high in the branches. Common spaces and guest lodgings take up entire trees, wrapping around trunks and connecting with bridges. But my home is smaller, and all the way at the top of one of the oldest and tallest trees in the city…I can look up and I see the stars. It’s like I walk among them, I am so close. And here, though we are quite low on the ground…” His eyes drop to mine. I listen intently, captivated by the love he feels for his home so clearly expressed in his voice. “This feels somehow similar, like it is just you, me, the forest, and the sky.”

The words, ill-thought and reckless, rush from my mouth. “I like it being just us.”

His head dips closer to mine. “Me too.”

Our noses brush against each other. We are so close, so close to losing ourselves in something we cannot control.

I will bring nothing but pain to him.

I pull back just enough to see his eyes, hating the spark of hurt that runs through them. But I ground myself in that, use it as a warning of what is to come if I don’t stop this now.

But stopping hurts me, too. Because I want him. I want to be with him, to be his forever, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. Memories or not, this, I’m sure of.

And I can’t have it.

Tears prick at my eyes.

Haldir’s hurt turns to concern and he trails a finger tenderly over my cheek, soothing and catching a tear that has managed to fall. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow, trying to force away the painful lump that has grown there. I can manage little more than a whisper. “You don’t want to do this with me.”

He shakes his head and brings a hand to my lower back. He presses gently, keeping me in place as if he knows I’m trying to find a way out, to talk us both out of doing this. He lowers his head to look directly into my eyes. “Yes, I do.”

I turn my gaze to the waterfall, not able to bear looking him in the eye. “Haldir, I’m temporary. To your lifespan, I…I’m nothing. Don’t waste your love on me.” And something I can’t say, something I’m too weak to admit out loud — don’t waste your life on me.

He brings a hand to my chin, pulling me to meet his eyes. What I see there takes me aback — a fierceness akin to how he looked during the attack. “It’s not a waste, it’s a choice. And I’ve chosen, Cosima. I want this, I want you.”

I shake my head, the tears falling freely now. I bring a hand to grip his wrist, trying to break his hold of my face. He follows my request but immediately takes both of my hands in his, refusing to let me go completely.

He speaks in a low, urgent voice. “Cosima, believe me, I tried. I’ve stayed away from you, I’ve tried to convince myself that there are others, that there could ever be someone else for me. I’ve distracted myself with training and planning and patrols but nothing works. Every day, I wake up and I ache for you.”

I close my eyes, all at once elated to hear those words and grieving his choice. Because loving him is the most selfish thing I’ll ever do.

“I wish I didn’t want this,” he continues. “I know what it means for me. Every instinct for self-preservation is screaming at me to stop, to run away, to fight this—”

“Then do,” I beg, trying to convince both him and myself. “Save yourself while you still can.”

Slowly, deliberately, he pulls his hands from mine and rests them on either side of my neck, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. Despite my efforts, I suck in a breath, my heart beginning to race.

He’s so close, so honest, so…loving. He looks at me with the same reverence he reserves for the stars. He lets out a breath, eyes trailing down my face before meeting mine once more. “It is too late,” he murmurs, lips parting slightly. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

And my resolve breaks.

I push myself forward to close the minuscule space between us, pressing my lips against his. He responds immediately, kissing me with a passion that sends tingles down my spine. His hold on me feels like fire, starting where his hands caress my neck, where his lips meet mine, and running through my entire body. My hands gather in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him impossibly closer. My mind fights between short-circuiting due to the feel of his lips on mine and shouting for joy. Never in my life have I felt so right, so secure, so…electric. Gone are the days of holding myself back, of distancing myself, torturing myself, staying away from the one I truly want to be with.

The one I love.

My back makes contact with the cloak covering the ground. Did I fall and pull him along, or did he push me? All efforts of solving that mystery disappear the moment he takes my lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently. I gasp, my grip on his tunic tightening. The hand that rests on the ground near my side, supporting his weight, curls into a fist.

His kisses slow.

He presses his lips to mine again, this time, as gentle as a breeze. I sigh into the kiss, my hand trailing slowly down his chest. For the first time in all my memory, I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

And I am with who I am meant to be with.

Haldir’s lips leave mine. He balances his weight on one arm and his knees, bringing his free hand to my face to softly brush his fingers over my cheek. Slowly, I open my eyes.

Above me is perhaps the best and most beautiful sight I will ever see. A blanket of stars, brilliant and expansive, floats across the night sky. And in front of them, mere inches from my face, is Haldir, looking at me with a wide, adoring smile. I raise my head to bump my nose against his, earning myself a rumbling chuckle.

He shakes his head slowly. “The relief I feel, finally being able to tell you that I love you, to kiss you…”

I breathe out a weak laugh, knowing exactly what he’s describing. “I wouldn’t call what I feel relief.”

He grins and dips his head to mine, stopping just before our lips touch. “Yes, it is certainly not a peaceful relief. But I much prefer whatever this is to peace.”

“I agree,” I sigh into his mouth as his lips move against mine once more. But then I remember something, and push against his shoulders. He’s said his piece, now I get to say mine. “Hey, for the record, I love you too.”

He laughs indulgently, shaking his head, but I can see real joy lighting his eyes. “And yet you kept me in such suspense.”

I roll my eyes and grip his tunic, pulling him down again.

When we break apart, he falls onto his back next to me. I’m struck once again with the memory of us stargazing in Elrond’s gardens so many months ago. Then, I spent the whole night fighting the urge to cuddle against his side.

Now, it seems, that door is not closed to me.

Experimentally, I scoot closer to him. When he smiles rather than questions it, I pick up the arm nearest to me, moving it so I can lay against his side. He tenses, then sputters out a laugh, but doesn’t push me away. Instead, he cranes his head so he can see me and I grin up at him, happy to see that he wears a matching expression.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this what the humans do?”

“Yes,” I smile up at him, pleased that being this close to him feels even better than I could have imagined. “It’s called cuddling.” I rest my head on his chest. In the silence of the night, I can hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

After a moment, his hand comes to the back of my head, running his fingers gently over my hair and down my back. “Surprisingly, I like the human way.”

I smile, tucking my head further into his chest.

I stare at the sky.

And try not to think about what I’ve just done.

A/n YAYYYYYYYYY 

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c i c a t r i z e (aragorn x reader) pt. ii

cicatrize (v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars. Pronouns: She/Her 

 A/N: Welcome to part two! I’ve been working on this part for three days and it was getting a little long, so I saved Weathertop for chapter three. This chapter is 2.7k (or more) words. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Some swearing, alcohol consumption, Nazgûl, the usual. Summary: Y/n is Aragorn’s childhood best friend. However, when they got older, Y/n’s feelings towards her long time friend changed, but he is infatuated with the Evenstar. Out of heartbreak, she leaves Rivendell and sets off on her own, leaving her love and all she ever knew. When Elrond’s Council takes place, Y/n is forced back to her home and everything she ever knew.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙  Present Time Y/n POV Ale dribbled down my chin as I gulped down what seemed to be my hundredth Pint. In truth, I lost count after my... sixth? Seventh? I needed to drink away my sorrows after the day I had. I received a letter from Gandalf the Grey when the sun was at it’s peak, babbling on about the One Ring, how it was in the hands of a Hobbit named Baggins, and how I needed to make my way to the Prancing Pony in Bree as soon as possible. And, of course, that I needed to keep a look out for the Hobbit in the Prancing Pony, and bring him to Rivendell. What a way to start the day, I had only awoken not an hour prior!

Gods, I needed a drink. After the initial shock of knowing that the One Ring had indeed been found, I, not so happily, packed my few possessions into a warn out bag and went on my merry way.  After leaving Rivendell almost seven decades ago, I had travelled all across Middle Earth, never staying in one place for too long. Though it’s been sixty-seven years since I left my entire life behind (in more than one way), I was still frightened- or was it ashamed? Ashamed. Yes, that was it. I was ashamed of how I left, why I left. Just leaving everything I’ve ever known because I was jealous and heartbroken. Over a guy! Only, he wasn’t just any guy. Yes, he is. I am and have been over him. Are you absolutely positive? No. Exactly.  Fine, I admit! But how could I get over someone I’ve known since I learned how to walk? Not so easily, it seems. Perhaps that was why I was sulking in the Prancing Pony, downing ale after ale, trying to ignore the pure dread of having to see him again. Maybe he won’t be there? Maybe his adventures led him elsewh- My “what if’s” and “maybe’s” were cut short by a large shadow looming over me. Peering up at the owner of said shadow with the mug raised to my lips, I nearly choke at the sight. There he is, the man who has haunted my dreams for sixty-seven years. And, oh Valar, he aged like the finest Mirkwood wine. Sobering up immediately, I quickly placing the mug on the table and wipe my mouth with my sleeve, I greet him with a quiet “Hello?” Though, it sounds more like a question.

He doesn’t greet me in return, much to my pleasure. He just gestures to the seat next to me. “May I?” I numbly nod, though my eyes don’t leave him. Once he is seated, I glance down at my hands and take a deep breath. “What are you doing here, Aragorn?” My tone takes him off guard, it’s cold, hostile. As if I was talking to a stranger, which, in a way, he was. His face holds nothing but shock, with traces of hurt within the grey depths of his eyes. “Business from Gandalf,” Aragorn mumbles as he waves down a waitress. I look at him again, but this time I notice everything that’s changed about him. His hood is up, covering his eyes for all but me. His face is more defined, and there is a trace of stubble along his sharp jaw. He’s buffer, too. His muscles are prominent even under his many layers of clothing. I would be a liar if I said he didn’t look good. However, he also looked... nostalgic. Memories upon memories rushed to the front of my brain as I relived what we used to be.  Oh, Mandos, I think I’m catching feelings. Again. “It’s been a while, Y/n.” I blink, looking away from him with a blush. You foolish woman, Y/n! He most definitely knows you were checking him out.  Clearing my throat, I simply say “Yeah,” and look around for the Hobbit I’m supposed to be watching for. I could his gaze burning into the side of my head, watching my intently.  “You left without saying goodbye,” he mentions with an edge to his tone. I sigh and close my eyes, I really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or ever. Never would be good.  “Didn’t think you’d care.” I said, shrugging. Good going, Y/n. Is that really the only intelligent thing you could come up with in that tiny head of yours? In my peripheral vision I see him tense, and his eyes widen considerably. What did he expect me to say? That I was sorry for leaving all those years ago? That I was so desperately in love with him that the sight of him embracing Arwen Undómiel was too much to bear? No, my pride could never admit that, especially not now. “You didn’t think I would care? Y/n, are you ins-” Aragorn starts with what sounds like a hiss.  I hold my finger up to shush him as four Hobbits walk into the Inn, soaked to the bone. The leader, a tall-ish Hobbit with curly black hair, approaches the bar and I can practically feel the evil radiating off of him in waves. I knew he was the one I was looking out for, he was Baggins.  Aragorn gives me a ‘we will talk about this later’ look, yet still follows my gaze. His body language changes drastically when he spots the small men and I instantly know we were sent here for the same reason. “Gandalf sent us on the same quest, it seems.” I mumble as my eyes follow the Hobbit’s every move. Something was... off about them, ignoring the presence of the Ring. They seemed nervous, as though they were waiting for someone. Baggins, or Underhill, as he was called, looked exhausted. The true weight of the Ring was finally making itself known.  As the four sat down at a table in the middle of the room, my eyes wandered over Underhill’s companions. The blonde next to him was on the bigger side, he had unruly curls as all Hobbits do, and he seemed the to the more cautious one out of his companions. The two across from him carried a carefree and youthful energy, both with almost golden hair.  The blonde one looked around the room with distrust before his eyes landed on Aragorn and I. We were watching them carefully, Aragorn had his pipe in his mouth, and I held my mug snuggly within my fingers. I suppose our watchful gazes set off alarms in the small Hobbit’s head. He elbowed Underhill and whispered something to him, nodding his head towards the two of us. Underhill eyed us, I could see the suspicion and fear growing within him as he took in our appearances. Suddenly, he gestured to Butterbur as he passed by, and over the loudness of the Inn, I barely heard him ask, “The two in the corner, who are they?” Butterbur glanced at us warily before replying, “They’re two of them Rangers; dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds. What their right names are, I’ve never heard, but round here they’re known as Strider and Randir.” Underhill looked at us again, “Strider and Randir,” he seemed to whisper as he nervously played with something under the table. Time seemed to slow as the younger one of the golden haired Hobbits seemed to yell for all the world to hear, “Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins!” Every pair of eyes flew to the young Hobbit, but he seemed oblivious for he kept speaking.  “He’s over there, Frodo Baggins!” He pointed to Underhill, “He’s my second cousin, once removed, on his mother’s side and my third cousin, twice removed on his father’s side... if you follow me.” I sighed deeply and watched as Frodo raced to the golden haired boy, gripping his arm and shouting, “Pippin!” “Steady on, Frodo!” Pippin says, then pushes Frodo away. Frodo stumbled back, losing his balance on one of the many pairs of feet crowded around him. He falls, the Ring flying out of his pocket as gravity takes control. Aragorn and I watch with steady eyes, we could not let anyone near the small, childlike creatures. You never know who may be a spy, waiting, like a jaguar, for the precise moment to pounce. A small hand reaches out to grab the evil jewel, but it just slips through his fingers a moment too late. I wince as Frodo hits the ground, a loud “oomph!” leaving his mouth at impact. Though, my eyes never leave the jewel that seems to be calling my name, tugging at my heartstrings, as it made it’s graceful down a child sized finger.  The owner of said finger was none other than Frodo, and the entire Inn gasped in horror as he vanished from sight. There is complete silence for a moment, and Aragorn and I jolt up, preparing ourselves for the chaos that is to come. And chaos it is. Excited, and slightly horrified, chatter explodes throughout the Prancing Pony. I look to each of the Hobbits once more. The blonde hobbit is as pale as a ghost, looking deathly ill with panic. Pippin, who seemed to realize his folly quickly, sobers up quickly. The unnamed one seems to be a mix of the two, a look of complete and utter bewilderment clear as day on his features. Aragorn and I spot Frodo as he reappears in a dark corner, shaking like a leaf and as pale as the wraiths that hunt him. Hidden in the shadows, we stride over to him, unseen by all in the Inn. The man reaches him first, however, and grabs Frodo by the cloak and drags him up the stairs to a dark room. “You draw far too much attention to yourself.. Mr. Underhill.” Aragorn hisses. I roll my eyes at his actions. “You could have been a little kinder to the poor boy, look at him! He looks like he’s seen Sauron himself.” I point out with a small grin, but it vanishes in a second with the look Frodo gives me. It was wide eyed, portraying the terrifying truth in my words. He had, indeed, seen Sauron himself. Aragorn ignores my statement and draws the attention back to himself as he looms over Frodo. “What do you want?” The quiver in the Hobbit’s voice is prominent when he asks this. Estel turns away for a moment to put out the bright and blazing candles. “A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry.” He replies.  “I carry nothing,” Frodo lies. I watch the situation with interest, though I say nothing. The terror of the Ring was clearly effecting him, and having Aragorn and I practically kidnap him was likely not helping. “Indeed?” The taller man hums. “I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift.” He states as he finally reveals his face and the mess that is his hair. I gape at him as I take in his aged features, this time I really inspect him. His grey eyes, his lips, his hair...  He was seemingly flawless. Stop it, you stupid girl! You have a task at hand! Shaking my head to clear those impeccably true thoughts, I barely hear Frodo whisper, “Who are you?” “Are you frightened?” This time, it was I who spoke, bringing the attention of both males to me. I say those words with a slight edge to my tone, and it could sound like mockery if we weren’t currently in a dire situation.  Frodo looks me dead in the eyes. “Yes,” he says honestly, I almost laugh. “Not nearly frightened enough,” I uttered lowly, and narrowed my eyes. “We know what hunts you.” Aragorn adds, making me grimace. The Nazgûl were nasty, terrible creatures who should have stayed dead and rotting in their tombs. A noise from the corridor bursts our eerie bubble, and the three of us jump towards the door.  In come three determined Hobbits carrying a chair, a candlestick and fists as weapons. I had to admit, their bravery was to be commended. The blonde one bellowed, “Let him go or I’ll have you, Longshanks!” I couldn’t help it, but I burst into laughter, giggles spewing from my mouth as I recounted what just happened. Maybe it was the ale, or maybe the fact that I haven’t spent more than thirty minutes in another persons presence in sixty-seven years, but that comment was the funniest shit I’ve heard in a long time. Everyone in the room turned towards me with bewilderment and confusion written all over them, making me laugh even harder. I had tears rolling down my face and my cheeks and stomach hurt from my sudden chortling.  After a few moments, my hysterics died down a bit, demoting themselves to light chuckles every so often. “I- I’m sorry,” I babbled. “Please, go on,” I smiled and waved my hand in a dismissive manner. The five men looked utterly disturbed and puzzled, but it was Aragorn who finally said something, though it was quite dark and ominous. “You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that alone won’t save you.” He turned to Frodo, “You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They are coming.” After that we quickly devised a plan, and quietly made our way to the Hobbits room and stuffed pillows under the sheets to make it look like little people sleeping. Then, we grabbed all of their packs and brought them to Aragorn’s room, and we waited for the inevitable.  It had to have been two hours of silence before a single word was said by any of us. The Hobbits had already gone to bed, snuggled side by side on the large mattress. Aragorn and I sat across from each other by the window, watching for any sign of the dark servants.  I was playing with my dagger, twirling it between my fingers and stabbing it into the wood of the window sill, lost in my many degrading thoughts.  “Why did you leave?” Aragorn finally asked. I looked up to see him watching me intently. I stilled, dumbfounded. Out of all the things he could have said, he asked that? Gracious me, we are supposed to be watching out for the Black Riders, not sharing sob stories!  Trying to think of a semi-intelligent, semi-vague answer, I finally came up with “My heart led me elsewhere.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth. Before he could respond, however, I spot four Nazgûl riding into Bree. “Aragorn,” I call out and point to them as they make their way inside. The air thickens as heavy footsteps come up the stairs. I hold my breath, as does Aragorn, even the Hobbits seemed to stop breathing. Please, Valar, let us go unnoticed. It seems fate was feeling generous, the Ringwraiths strut right into the trap. And they stab. Over and over again, right into the pillows we set up just for them. I wince when I realize that it have very well been the Hobbits in place of those pillows if we hadn’t done something. Suddenly a deadly screech fills the air, followed by three others. No doubt they discovered the trap, and were positively pissed. I listen intently as they fled the Inn, and as they mounted their black steeds and left Bree, I hear multiple identical screams in the distance. My shoulders drop and I instantly breathe a sigh of relief. It worked. Our plan worked.  “What are they?” Frodo’s quiet voice questions from behind me. I look back to see him wide awake and seated on the edge of the bed. “They were once Men. Great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will.” Aragorn answers grimly. Sensing that he wasn’t going to say any more, I add on to his statement. “They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living or dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the one...” I trailed off. Our two voices fill the air in unison as we conclude,  “They will never stop hunting you.” ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ TAGLIST @entishramblings (please tell me using my ask box if you want to be tagged in future chapters)

Thorin and the Gem Carver (part 5)

Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Kili and Fili all take turns sitting with Jade's Aunt, Nanna, and Jade. They sometimes talk quietly, with the aunt sharing stories about Jade and her antics in Rohan. Tauriel visits often checking in to see how the young dwarrowdam is doing. She is concerned about the spine and asks Thorin if he would mind it if she sends for Lord Elrond and Lady Galadrial. Thorin looks down at Jade. Then back to Tauriel.

"Send for them. Perhaps they will be able to help her where we can not." he says quietly. Tauriel races to find Kili or Fili and she finds Fili. He goes with her to Raven hill and they send off messages to the two elvish leaders asking them to come to Erebor as quickly as they can to see if they can heal Jade's injuries.

They hurry back and join Thorin as he sits with Jade, giving her aunt a break and telling her to go lie down. 

By late afternoon on the third day, Galadrial and Celeborn appear at the gates of Erebor. Thorin is sent for and he tells Balin to show them to the Healing Halls where He is sitting with Jade's aunt. Jade had not woken yet and Oin was getting very concerned.

Galadrial enters with Celeborn and everyone stands and bows to them. She walks over and looks at Nanna, who seems to cower for a few minutes then nods and moves off to the side and goes to lay down. Galadrial moves to Jade's head and her eyes get wide when she sees the blue color on Jade's hair. "What has she done to her hair?" Galadrial asks. 

Thorin tells them what happened according to what Jade's aunt said and what Sigrid said. She looks down at the hair and gently undoes the braid. The dwarves look shocked, but say nothing. Her hands hover over it and she frowns. Whatever magic the human used has made this permanent. It will never fade nor will it wash out. Thorin frowns when she runs her hands through Jade's hair and sighs, then she moves her hands to Jade's head and closes her eyes. She stands like that for a few minutes, then Thorin notices Jade's breathing changing. He looks at Celeborn who is smiling. 

Galadrial opens her eyes after a few minutes and lets go of Jade's head. "I was able to reach her and guide her back here. Her brain has taking a lot of trauma, but the swelling is going down. She should regain consciousness in the next few days. Elrond said to tell you he should be here by tomorrow night baring any attacks from the remaining Orcs." she informed them. 

"Oin, I will give you a strong tea to help Jade with the pain she will begin to feel as she regains consciousness. Give it to her every hour when she wakes and when Elrond is able to start healing her. I am most concerned for her spine. it will cause her the most pain." she says sadly.

Thorin thanks her for her help in coming so quickly. She smiles and says, "Jade is a very special dwarrowdam, Thorin. Should she choose to stay here and finds her One, she will bless Erebor with many blessings." she tells him with a knowing smile. Thorin nods.

"Would you like to be shown to your rooms?" Thorin asks. "Thank you Thorin, but we must leave. I have done all I can for Jade right now. Let her rest until Elrond arrives." Galadrial says and places a hand on Thorin's shoulder. 

She asks him in his mind, "You care about her do you not?" He looks up at her and nods. "What are your feelings towards her?" Galadrial asks him in his mind. "She is my One." he thinks as he looks up at her. Galadrial smiles at him brightly and nods. "Do not be afraid to tell her how you feel, Thorin. But be patient. She will be very confused, scared and in a great deal of pain for several months as she recovers and relearns how to do even the simplest tasks. Support her and be a shoulder for her to cry on." She tells Thorin. Thorin nods and with that, Galadrial and Celeborn disappear.

Oin chuckles. "Must be nice to be able to travel like that!" 

Thorin nods. 

******************

The next evening Elrond and his healers arrive at the gates of Erebor and are quickly shown to the healing halls by Dwalin.

Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir come up to Jade's body and sigh. Thorin is sitting there with his head resting on the bed and he is holding Jade's fingers gently in his. Elrond quietly goes over to stand at Jade's head and is shocked to see the blue in her hair. He looks up at Oin who quietly explains why there's color there and what Galadrial said about it now being permanent because of the wicked woman's curse.

Elrond gently stroked her hair for a few minutes, then sat down at her head. He placed his hands on her head and began to work on healing her head injury as Elladan and Elrohir began to work on her ribs and arms. Thorin woke up after a little bit and stepped back out of their way once he realized who they were. He watched as the elves' hands glowed and they worked on healing his One. 

A half an hour later, Elladan unwraps Jade's arms and gently presses on them where the bones had broken. He looks up at Elrond and nods. Elrond looks over to Elrohir who is still working on her ribs. After another 15 minutes, he is starting to unwrap her torso. Elrond presses gently on the ribs and nods when he sees they are healed enough. He goes back and continues working on Jade's brain injuries.

Elladan and Elrohir come over to Oin and Thorin. "Her arms and ribs are fully healed, but will be weak and tender for a while. She will need to learn to reuse them again and most likely won't be able to do fine carvings at first. Over time, as the muscles and nerves acclimate, she should regain full use of them." They tell them.

"What about her head and spine?" Oin asks.

"Father is working on her head injury and brain injury. The skull has healed, but the brain one is more difficult to heal. He has to do it slowly or her body will go into shock." they explain.

"The spinal injury will be the last and hardest to heal. Several bones were crushed and are pressing on her spinal column. It will take some time to heal them and for her to regain feeling and use in her legs. It will not be a fast recovery for that injury. I am sorry to say." Elladan tells them.

"Father will let her wake up long enough to find out how much she will be able to feel and then he will make her sleep again while he works to heal her spine. Expect her to sleep off and on. He will allow her to wake so she can be fed and given water and teas, but he will want her resting and not moving around until the injury is fully healed and the therapy can begin to strengthen her muscles and retrain the nerves." Elrohir explains.

Thorin sighs at the news. 

He thanks them for their help and tells them he will have Balin show them to their suite when they are ready to rest. They thank him and encourage him to go and get some rest himself. "You look exhausted, Thorin. Go sleep. She will be here when you wake up." they encourage him. 

He nods and heads to his chambers. Upon arrival, he falls into bed and a very deep sleep. 

***************************************

The next few days go by in a blur for Thorin and his company. Balin insists Thorin continue with his usual duties as there isn't much he can do for Jade right now. Thorin grumbles and is grumpy all morning and sits through the morning meetings only halfway paying attention.

Around lunchtime three days after Elrond’s arrival one of the guards comes bursting into the room. Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili all look up and the guard only gets out, "She's awake." Before Thorin barks, "We well resume this at another time." and runs out the door with the others fast on his heels.

They get to the Healing halls and hear crying. Quietly they enter and see Ellladan and Elrohir holding Jade's shoulders down and she is crying and trying to fight them off. "Jade, it will hurt less if you just lay still!" Elrond scolds her. She stops fighting and whimpers as he carefully is examining her back. His hands slid under her back, feeling the spinal column. "Jade, tell me when you can no longer feel my fingers along your back." he instructs her. 

Her eyes open wide in horror. "What?!?" she squeaks out. Elrond sighs. "Jade, when you ran into Mirkwood, you fell down an embankment and severely hurt your back and head. I need you to tell me how far down your back you can feel. Tell me if you can feel my fingers here." he says as he gently pushes up on her back. She winces and nods. 

The dwarves watch as he works his way down her back, gently pushing up and her telling him if she can or can't feel it. He gets to her low back and she realizes she can not feel his hands and begins to cry again. When he moves them up slightly to above the crushed vertebrae and asks her again if she can feel his fingers. She nods. He sighs and pulls his hands out from under her back. He reaches over for a tea and helps her drink it. Quickly she falls asleep once more.

He says something to the other two elves and they nod. Elladan moves to the other side of Jade and slides his hands to where his father indicated to put them. Then Elrond did the same on his side of Jade. Together they began to mutter an elvish incantation of healing. Elrohir moves over to the dwarves to explain what is going on. 

She can not feel anything below where father has his hands. The vertebrae is crushed and pressing on the nerve, blocking it from working. Healing this kind if injury is very draining. That is why Elladan is helping. It will take time to heal this. It is uncertain if she will regain feeling or not. We will have to wait and see.

Thorin's face falls at the news. Balin and Dwalin both sigh, "Oh, Lass, why did you have to run? Why did you not let us explain why we wished to talk to you?" Balin says quietly. Elrohir bows his head. "She was always skittish, you know. Even when she was in Rivendell. Her father always insisted on traveling with her and she is used to having a male around to protect her. When her father died, her uncle was not supportive of her and it seems he resented having to take her into his house." 

"Elrohir, where is her mother?" Kili asks. "We never saw her when we brought her back to her home near the Blue Mountains." 

Elrohir sighed. "She died giving birth to Jade." Jade never knew her mother and her father never remarried." he explains.

"Oh." Kili says quietly.

The little group watches as Elrond and Ellandan work on Jade. After a while, the two elves stop and Elrond nearly collapses. "Father, rest!" Elrohir says as he steadies Elrond and leads him to a bed near Jade. Elrond nods and lays down.

Elladan comes over looking drained. "We were able to heal the crushed vertebrae so it will now serve it's purpose in protecting her spinal column." We must rest now though. Before we attempt to heal the spinal column itself. " he explains and then goes to lay down on another bed.

Oin shoos the dwarves out of the Healing Halls and tells them there is nothing more they can do for now and to go find something to do and let the elves rest.

Thorin goes deep into the mountain to the heart of it and kneels before the carving of Mahal and Yavannah. He sits there, thinking about how he failed to protect his One. He growls in frustration at the whole situation and wishes he could do it over, differently. He worries that the elves will not be able to heal her and that she will be paralyzed for life. How will they have a life and family if she is paralyzed? He ponders and sighs with a heavy heart. 

Suddenly he senses movement in front of him. He looks up and is startled to see the carving of Mahal has become him! He staggers back in surprise. "Mahal!" he exclaims. The god chuckles. "Yes, Thorin, it is me. What brings you here, to the heart of the mountain with such a heavily burdened heart?" he asks.

Thorin tells him what all has happened since he first saw Jade. He tells Mahal that he believes she is his One, but that she was so skittish he couldn't get close enough to talk with her. He tells Mahal of the prophecy and the curse the human woman cast upon Jade. He tells Mahal about the blue dyed hair and how she feels dishonored by it, but doesn't realize how beautiful and unique it makes her. He tells Mahal about her flight into Mirkwood and her injuries. He tells Mahal how worried he is that she will be paralyzed for the rest of her life, and that she will not be able to move around Erebor without being constantly carried by someone if that ends up being the case. He pours out his heart to Mahal and once he is finished, he heaves a heavy sigh. 

Mahal listens patiently to Thorin pouring his heart out to him with all his worries and concerns. Mahal ponders the matter and then the statue of Yavanna comes to life and moves over to Thorin and kisses his head. He looks up startled and sees her standing next to him. His jaw drops and he whispers, "Yavanna?" 

She giggles as she walks over to Mahal and hugs his arm. "I have been listening to you talk with my husband, Thorin, I hope you don't mind." Thorin shakes his head. She continues with a smile. "I will lift the curse the woman put on Jade, but understand the curse the woman casted on her was that she would always be barren and never conceive. The blue dye not washing out was a sign of that. The first time she conceives, the blue will begin to fade." Yavanna promises. Thorin looks up at her in disbelief. "The curse made her barren?" he asked. Yavanna nodded. "Why would anyone wish that upon another?" Thorin asked.

"Thorin, the woman who attacked and cursed Jade was, herself barren. That is why she was so vindictive and mean to those who could bear children." Yavanna explained. "But have no fear, Thorin, Jade will bear many, many children now for her future One." she says with a grin. 

"How, when Elrond says she may be paralyzed for the rest of her life? He is not certain he can fully heal the injury." Thorin says in despair.

Mahal looks at Thorin and considers all he has been put through. He sees how much Thorin loves Jade and how Jade's paralysis would greatly affect their life in the mountain and how it would affect the other dwarrow of Erebor.

"I will make it so she fully recovers, Thorin. You both have been through enough heartache and pain." Mahal tells him. "It will not be easy for her though, it will take time for her to recover her strength and feeling. Use this time to court her and show her how much you care for her, and how you will provide what she will need. If she can see you sticking with her through this, she will be assured you will stick with her through both the good and the difficult times." Mahal instructs Thorin. 

Thorin can't believe his ears. He looks up at the two gods, with gratefulness and nods. "Thank you for this great kindness and mercy." he says as he bows his head. He hears them chuckle and when he looks up, they are back to the stone carvings again.

His heart feels lighter and he has hope now. He gets up and goes back to his duties for the afternoon.

Around supper he goes to see how Jade is doing. Elladan is watching as his brother now helps their father with healing Jade's spinal column. Thorin quietly slips into the Healing Hall to see what is going on. He walks over to Elladan and watches the elves work. 

"She woke up a little while ago and had some broth and tea." Elladan tells him quietly. She was in a lot of pain. I don't think she realizes where she is yet." he says sadly. "It is hard seeing her like this, so broken."

Thorin nods. "I did not know her like you did before this happened. I first saw her in the market of Dale. Her blue hair was peeking out the bottom of her cloak and the silver embroidery had caught my attention. I said something to Dwalin and then Kili had asked me something. I turned to answer Kili, then Dwalin tapped me to get my attention and she was fleeing down the street.

We followed her into a tavern and she hid herself in a dark corner. I had instructed Dwalin to keep an eye on her, that I wanted to talk to her. Theoden wanded me to offer her a place in our gem carver's guild as a master gem carver. I wanted to talk with her and see if it was something she was interested in, and I wanted to get to know her. Something about her presence drew me to her. I wanted to see her face and hear her voice." Thorin sighed.

"Later on after she evaded Dwalin in the tavern, Balin found her in an alleyway and was able to talk to her a little bit. She showed him her long hair and told him how it got colored blue. Balin said it was beautiful and looked like a waterfall. I have yet to see it with her standing. He said it nearly touches the ground." Thorin said. Elladan chuckled. "It does touch the ground, master dwarf. In the sunlight, it glows like moonlight on a clear night. I understand hair is a very intimate and private thing with dwarves, is that correct?" he asks. Thorin nodded. 

"I hope you don't mind that Galadrial unbraided Jade's hair and touched it, same with my father. They meant no disrespect. They think of her as a daughter and it was meant as a comforting gesture, one of love from a parent to a child." he explained. "Elrohir and I think of her as a sister." he added sadly. 

Thorin looked at them in disbelief. "Really? You would adopt a dwarrowdam as your family?" he asked. "She is special, Thorin. Wherever she goes and is welcomed, she is loved deeply by those who get to know her. She has many who think of her as an adopted child or sibling. Rohan, Rivendell, Lothlorian. and I dare say here as well, though she doesn't know it yet." he tells Thorin.

"Balin has come quite frequently to check on her. He dotes on her when he is here and asks us many questions, much like a doting father does." he says with a grin. "And If you don't mind me saying, you seem especially concerned about her. Is she your One?" Elladan asks. "I mean no disrespect. If you do not wish to answer, that is fine." he adds. 

"I do not mind you asking. Yes, I believe she is my One, though she doesn't know it yet. I feel drawn to her like I have never felt before with anyone else. I can not explain it. I would like to talk with her and get to know her, but she kept running from us because of her idiot Uncle's schemes." Thorin said, frustrated. 

"I had heard some of the dwarves talking quietly about him. It seems he wanted to sell Jade as a wife to the highest bidder?" Elladan asks.

Thorin nodded. "She got wind of it and ran whenever males approached her. Even Kili she ran from, and she knew him and Fili from the caravans." Thorin said sadly. "I worry she will not give us the chance to talk with her and she will run before we can welcome her and tell her what has transpired with her uncle and his plans." Thorin said.

Elladan frowned.

"Will you tell her something for me when she wakes enough to comprehend everything and can think clearly?" Thorin asks Elladan. "Perhaps she will listen to you or your Father." Thorin says sadly. 

"What do you wish me to tell her, Thorin?" Elladan asks. 

"Please tell her that arranged marriages are not allowed here and that I have freed her from her Uncle's control and due to her injuries and current state of health I have placed her under my protection until she is well enough to choose a dwarf or dwarf family as her own.

Her Uncle has been banished from my kingdom because he had said he would take her to another kingdom and sell her off to one of them. I knew she had told Balin she did not want this, so I revoked her Uncle's rights to her and banished him.

She is welcome to stay here in Erebor for as long as she wishes and is welcome to join any guild she wishes. Her Aunt is being given the same opportunity and I have told her that if she wishes her marriage to be annulled, as she was forced into it, that I would annul it and she would also be free to choose. That she, too, would be welcome here as long as she behaved herself." Thorin said.

"I will make sure she is informed once she is awake and can think clearly, Thorin." Elladan promises. 

Thorin nods his thanks. 

Just then Jade moans and starts turning her head.

Elrond quickly stops healing her and moves to her head saying her name quietly. "Jade." Her green eyes pop open and she looks at him confused. "Elrond? Where am I? What happened?" she asks hoarsely as she tries to sit up and grimaces. He quickly stops her from moving and says, "Shhhh, now. Lay still. You had a fall down an embankment and are badly hurt. Do not move until you are told to." She groans.

"Is that why I hurt so bad?" she asks. "Yes, Jade. "Now be still." he tells her. "Elrond?" "Yes Jade?" "I'm thirsty." 

Elrond chuckles and looks over to Elladan. The elf nods and walks over to the tea and brings her a cup. He helps her drink it and soon she is sleeping again.

"You didn't tell her where she was." Thorin states as he watches them. "She didn't need to know. It would only upset her right now. She will not be told where she is until she is able to think clearly and we can explain everything to her so she understands." Elrond tells Thorin. 

Thorin nods. "Thank You."

There is a knock on the door to the Healing Halls and Oin goes to see who it is. He comes back and says, "Thorin, Eomer and Eowyn are here. They would like to talk to you. Balin has put them in the Blue Meeting room." he tells Thorin. Thorin rubs his face. "Very well." He looks back over at Jade. 

"Elrond, what do I tell them? They sent her here expecting me to keep her safe..." he says trailing off.

Elrond comes over to Thorin and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Tell them the truth, Thorin. If they wish to come see her, I will allow a brief visit. But she will not be allowed to wake up. She needs to stay as still as possible while her spine heals." he explains.

Thorin nods and heads to go meet with the siblings from Rohan.

*********

Thorin walks into the Blue Meeting room and sees Balin talking with Eomer and Eowyn. 

They look up when he comes in and Eomer walks over to Thorin. "How is she?" he asks anxiously. Thorin sighs and says, "Come, sit, and let's talk." he says as they walk towards the table. "Balin, can you have some drink and food brought up?" Balin nods. 

"First I want to tell you that Jade is alive. She is being cared for by Lord Elrond in our Healing Halls." he tells them.

"What happened?" Eowyn asks.

Thorin spends the next couple hours explaining to them what all happened and the extent of Jade's injuries as they ate.

"May we see her?" The two siblings ask. "You may, but Elrond says she must not be woken up. He needs to keep her from moving as much as possible and when she wakes she wants to start moving." Thorin tells them. They nod. Thorin stands and they both follow him to the Healing Hall. 

He shows them in and they both quietly walk over to where Elrond and Elrohir are working on healing Jade's spine. Elladan comes over and greets them quietly.

"What are they doing?" Eowyn asks quietly. "They are working on healing her spine now that they got her bones healed.' he explains. "It will be a long process and we are unsure if she will be able to regain feeling in her legs or not. The bone was crushed and was pressing on the nerve." He explains quietly. Eomer looks worried and Eowyn turns into his arms and cries quietly. "Do not despair, Lady Eowyn, she is in the best healing hands Middle Earth has." Elladan says trying to comfort her.

"Mahal and Yavanna both came to me as I sat and thought about all this. They explained that the curse the woman put on Jade was to make her barren for the rest of her life. Yavanna removed the curse from her and said that the first time she conceives the blue in her hair will fade away. Mahal also promised me she will fully recover and will eventually walk again, but it will take time and will be a long process." he tells them.

"She is my One and I will do every thing in my power to see that she has the best care and lacks for nothing." Thorin assures them. "I will not force her to marry me. I leave it up to her. When she is ready, and if she accepts me, then it will happen. I have banned arrange marriages here so there will be no further problems with it interfering with people's Ones and I leave it up to them to choose, no matter their station or status." he tells them.

"Is that why you banned her Uncle from your kingdom?" Eowyn asked. "It is partly why. When he found out about this edict, he said he would just take her and go to another mountain and sell her to the highest bidder there. I would not allow her to be sold like a piece of property and so I freed her from his control, placing her under my care as king until she had healed and could choose a family for her own. She seems to favor Balin and he seems to care for her like a father figure, so it wouldn't surprise me if things turned out with him adopting her as his daughter." Thorin told them.

Eowyn giggled. "He is such a nice dwarf. I always enjoy talking with him." she says. Thorin smiles and nods. "He is a kind and wise dwarf."

 Eomer walks over to stand at the foot of Jade's bed and looks at her for a few minutes. Then walks back to Thorin. "Thank you for taking care of her. She is like my second sister and I was incredibly worried for her when they said they were leaving."

Thorin smiles, "Do not thank me, master Horseman, thank Tauriel for sending for Elrond and Galadrial. Were it not for them coming as fast as they did, she may have been in much worse shape. They are the ones who have saved her. I just provided the halls to do so." Thorin tells Eomer.

"You have done far more than that, Master Dwarf." Elrond says quietly as he walks over to them. You found her after she ran and brought her here as quickly as you could, you have cared for her until we could get here and you and your dwarves have been a constant at her side. That is not nothing." he reminds Thorin. 

"Thank you Lord Elrond, for healing her." Eomer says, turning to Lord Elrond with a grateful smile. "I know it is taking a lot out of you, but know we appreciate it." he says.

Elrond smiles and nods. "Now if you will excuse me, Thorin, might I be shown to our suite? I need to rest and Galadrial wishes to speak with me." he asks. Thorin nods then turns to Eomer and Eowyn, "Would you like to be shown to your rooms as well?"

They look over to Jade and then nod. They both move to either side of Jade and give her a kiss on her forehead, then come back to Thorin and Elrond. Thorin leads them out of the Healing Halls and to their respective suites that have been prepared for them.

"Thank you Thorin." Elrond says with a tilt of his head. Thorin returns the gesture and then turns to show Eomer and Eowyn to their suite. "There is a room for each of you as well as a shared sitting area. There is a kitchenette off to one side with a dining table if you wish to take your meals in your suite. If there is anything you need, ask one of my guards and they will see you get it. If you need guidance navigating Erebor, they will help you as well." Thorin tells them. They thank him and go into their rooms.

Thorin heads for his room and passes out on his bed, exhausted after such an emotional rollercoaster of a day.

@fizzyxcustard​ @thorinthehottotty​ @deepestfirefun​ @dabisburntnut​ @dumbassunderthemountain​ @rachel1959

Grandmother

Celebrian bonds with her grandmother (not that one, the other one).

Characters: Celebrian, Nerdanel, Turgon, Finrod,

Read on AO3

“Are you just going to sit there?”

Celebrian thought to reply that she was, in fact, planning to just sit there. It was enough that she’d gone into the gardens (although that had only been because her uncle had threatened to carry her there if she didn’t go herself).

“That’s not going to solve anything you know,” the woman continued, marching over to stand beside Celebrian and squint down at her.

Finally, Celebrian looked up and then pulled back slightly at the sight of the woman in front of her. Although they’d never been formally introduced, she knew immediately who she was speaking with. There was a short list of people who had her fiery hair, and only one that Celebrian could think of that would be inside the royal gardens. “Lady Nerdanel?” she asked in surprise.

The sculptress huffed, “And you are Lady Celebrian, yes?”

“I- yes.”

“Then I will repeat my question: are you just going to sit there Lady Celebrian?”

“And if I am, Lady Nerdanel, what does it mean to you?”

“Sitting there won’t solve anything.”

“It makes my uncle happy, and that’s enough for me,” Celebrian replied. Nerdanel seemed to give up after that and retreated back to where ever she had come from. Celebrian tried to pretend she wasn’t sorry.

Finrod failed to get Celebrian to the garden the next day, or the day after that or the day after that. When threatening to carry her failed to make he tried to make good on his threats, only to have her cry out in fright, pulled into her past, remembering the last time she’d been carried against her will.

He’d left her alone after that, sending Turgon in his stead, attempting to bribe her with sweets. She’d locked her door, but the former king found a key and let himself in.

She was hiding in her closet when he found her, and he gave her the sweets wordlessly and sat with her in silence.

The next morning, Nerdanel marched into her room, threw open the curtains, and announced, “You need sunlight to sculpt.”

Startled from her sleep, Celebrian stared at her from the bed. “I don’t know how to sculpt.”

“Which is why I am here. You can’t learn sculpting from your uncle. Believe me, I’ve tried to teach him.”

She tried to teach Celebrian as well, once she got the younger woman out of bed. But Celebrian seemed to have her uncle’s talent for sculpting, which was Nerdanel’s way of saying she had no talent for it at all.

“It looks like a frog,” Nerdanel said, looking at the sculpture Celebrian had struggled with for hours.

“It’s my son,” Celebrian protested, although she was aware of how weak her protest sounded. She wasn’t even certain which of her sons it was meant to be, although that didn’t really matter seeing as how they were twins.

“Your son looks like a frog.”

For a moment Celebrian just stared at her, unable to believe anyone would say such a thing. Then a soft giggle erupted from her lips. “I suppose.”

“Mine tried to eat one once.”

“A frog?”

Nerdanel nodded. “Tyelkormo snuck it into the house and he and Atarince thought to convince Carnistir that it was a delicacy.”

Celebrian tried to picture what Nerdanel was describing. Maedhros and Maglor she had heard kind things about from Elrond, but the middle three seemed to be the most hated (or feared). “He believed it?”

“Oh he was a stupid boy,” Nerdanel said dismissively. When Celebrian gaped she explained, “He knew his way around books, certainly, but lacked any common sense. Eating that frog was one of the smarter things he ever did.”

She seemed saddened by that, as though recalling the other foolish things her sons had done, but at last she shook her head and said, “Next we’ll try painting, surely you can manage that.”

“I know how to paint,” Celebrian protested.

“Who taught you?”

“My mother.”

The older elf merely snorted. “Then I can only imagine what a travesty it will be.”

Nerdanel came the next day, as promised.

Celebrian was expecting her, that time, and was already sitting up in bed. “Not even dressed yet?” Nerdanel asked, raising an eyebrow. Finrod trailed behind her, offering excuses for Celebrian still being in her nightgown. Nerdanel ignored him. “I wasn’t planning to start with nude paintings, but if that’s what you want-”

Celebrian threw a pillow at her before stalking to her bathing chamber to dress. Once she was dressed she emerged to find Nerdanel positioning Finrod by the window, pushing flowers into his hair and swatting his hand away when he tried to assist.

“Wouldn’t it look better-” he began.

“You’re here to be pretty, not use your brain,” she retorted. Celebrian hid a grin. Finrod opened his mouth to protest and Nerdanel shoved a large blossom into his mouth. “Last time you tried to do more than just be pretty you got yourself eaten by a wolf for your trouble.”

Whatever protest he might have come up with was abandoned when Celebrian started laughing. After that, he sat silently and allowed them to paint him in peace.

Celebrian’s painting ability was marginally better than her sculpting ability. “I’ve always been better at landscapes,” she said by way of explanation.

Nerdanel was having none of it. “Any fool with a bit of paint can make a landscape. Capturing expression is where talent lies.” She looked at Celebrian’s painting and shook her head. “From what I’ve heard, your uncle looked better when he was dead.”

Finrod spit the flower out of his mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

----------

“Are you coming tomorrow?” Celebrian asked as Nerdanel packaged her paints.

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t very well keep lugging all this up to your tower every day, now can I?” The sculptress shook her head. “If you want more lessons you’ll have to come to me.”

“Come… to you?” Celebrian’s heart twisted in her chest.

“I live just outside the palace. Have your grandfather or one of your uncles give you an escort.” She threw a bag over her shoulder. “Or just ask anyone in this city where the crazy old woman lives. They’ll point you true.” With that, she was gone.

It took only two days before Celebrian decided she was going to see Nerdanel again, no matter what it took. She crawled out of bed, wrapping herself in one of her more heavily layered gowns. It did little to disguise the weight she had lost, but she pretended that it had.

Setting her shoulders she placed her hand on her door and pushed.

She found her grandfather easily enough. Finarfin was where he usually was, in his study, sitting at his desk, pretending to be working. Anyone who didn’t know him would have thought he was diligently working for the good of the realm, but he’d confided in Celebrian (in an attempt to make her feel more at home) that he kept a stash of novels and poetry books in his desk.

For as many years as he’d had the crown, he never seemed wholly comfortable with it.

“Not now Findarato,” he said without looking up, clearly enjoying his book.

Celebrian cleared her throat.

His head snapped up in alarm. “Celebrian.”

“I’d like to visit Lady Nerdanel.”

For a long moment, he gaped at her. She hadn’t expressed any interest in leaving the palace since she’d arrived, and then she had been half carried through the halls. But he didn’t question it, snapping his mouth shut and quickly saying, “Of course.”

She ended up with a rather large escort since none of them could decide who got the honor of taking her.

Finrod had pretended he didn’t want to take her, “not after the paint incident,” he had claimed. But the glimmer in his eye was evident.

After that, they’d only intended to take Turgon, but he was having tea with Fingon, and once they had both of them it seemed cruel not to take the rambunctious Argon.

“Just please don’t break any of her sculptures this time, please,” Fingon begged his youngest brother.

Celebrian still wasn’t used to all of them.

They were people of legend in Middle Earth. Everyone had heard tales of them, and even though she was related to them they had someone never seemed real. But they were real, and it was just as real that Argon had picked up a spider on their way to Nerdanel’s house and shoved it down Turgon’s shirt.

And yet watching them was saddening, knowing they were all that was left of their family. None of Finrod’s siblings had returned from the halls yet, and it seemed unlikely Aredhel would leave without her son. Fingolfin, too, had not yet returned.

But most obvious as they stepped through Nerdanel’s carved gates, was the absence of Feanor and his seven sons.

The laughter stopped.

Turgon stopped trying to get his hands around Argon’s neck.

Finrod and Fingon stopped shoved one another in their attempts to be the one to lead Celebrian by her arm.

“She… doesn’t invite visitors often,” Finrod explained.

I can see why, Celebrian wanted to say. But even without her uncle and cousins going silent she would have known who the statues in front of her depicted.

“All seven of them,” she said softly, staring down the line. The gardens seemed neglected, with vines wrapping around the pedestals, moss growing in their clothes. Their faces remained clean.

“No,” Fingon said softly. He pointed to the nearest statue. “That one is our Uncle.”

Celebrian’s eyes trailed down the line. Now that she had a better idea of what she was looking at, she could better guess who each one was.

There was Feanor as Fingon had said.

Maedhros with his beautiful features and long hair.

Celegorm held his bow.

Caranthir perpetually scowling.

Amrod and Amras, perfectly identical.

“She didn’t carve Kanafinwe.”

Before any of her escorts could say anything, Nerdanel’s voice floated out of the overgrown bushes. “Why should I?” She emerged from the mess of brambles, her red hair full of leaves and tucked behind a headband. “They’re markers for the dead. He’s not dead, just stubborn.”

“He might as well be,” Turgon muttered.

One look from Nerdanel was enough to silence him.

“I told you to bring one escort,” she grumbled to Celebrian, “Not an army.”

“They’re more like a flock of wild geese,” Celebrian said softly.

Nerdanel gave them a tour of her home after that, and although she complained bitterly about having so many people to tramp mud through her halls, it was clear to anyone watching she was enjoying herself.

The home was full of creativity. Half forgotten projects were tucked into corners, including one that Nerdanel squinted at and muttered: “Ambarussa never could finish anything.”

And yet for all it was full of memories of the dead, it didn’t feel like a shrine. It felt like it was frozen in time, as though it was waiting for her long lost children to return home, pick up their paints, and resume their projects. Somehow, that was worse.

“She rarely stays here,” Finrod murmured to Celebrian when he saw her staring at one of Feanor’s inventions, a bird that tapped its beak in water over and over again. “She lives with her father, outside the city.”

After their tour, Nerdanel turned on her guests, something strange glinting in her eyes. “I’d offer you food but I hardly have enough for the lot of you. And I can't speak for Celebrian, but I'm ravenous so make yourselves useful.”

Finrod was sent to a bakery. Fingon to a candy shop. Argon she sent to a butcher shop. “You go with your little brother,” she told Turgon. “I don’t trust him not to break anything.”

“It was one sculpture, Auntie!” Argon protested.

“Don’t call me auntie,” she retorted, shoving them all toward the door. “I can keep an eye on your lady, of all of us I have the best record of not being dead.”

She offered Celebrian a mischievous wink. Perhaps her words would have been funnier if it were not for the tapestry that Caranthir had embroidered looming over them.

“Why are you here?” Celebrian asked as their voices faded down the hall. “You don’t live here. This house hasn’t been used in centuries.”

“Your husband was very dear to my sons,” she said after a moment. “And they’re gone now. I might as well make a marker for Kanafinwe, for all the good it will do me to deny that he’s most likely dead.” She let out a soft sigh, glancing at Celebrian through the corner of her eye. “I don’t plan to be making a marker for you girl.”

“I’m not going to fade,” Celebrian whispered. No matter how tempting it was to curl into her bed and let all of her problems disappear. She couldn’t let herself want that.

“I know,” the sculptress grinned. “I won’t let you.”

Unexpected Destiny #2

Dwalin x Female!Reader

2110 words

Woah, part two posted in the same week as part one? Who is she I don’t know her. Anyway, here is part two for those of you who seemed to really enjoy this when I posted part one. I’ve got terrible great things planned for the rest of this fic. One final thing before you go on to read so you’re not confused, don’t worry, Dwalin’s conversation with Gandalf will be delivered to you in juicy detail in part 3. Enjoy!

Somehow they’d ended up at Rivendell, much to the chagrin of both the dwarves and [y/n], who had wished to never set eyes upon that place again. When Elrond had first greeted the dwarves, she’d ducked down in the centre of the dwarves and hidden so that he could not see her face, and though the elf had known exactly who she was without being able to see, he’d been kind enough to pretend he hadn’t and that he thought the odd behaviour was a product of the dwarves being overly protective of females.

Whilst the company was settling at Rivendell and the elves left them alone for a bit, [y/n] began to make an effort to get to know the company, though she found herself stubbornly sticking close to Gandalf as often as she could. Consequently, Dwalin had been given little opportunity to ask Gandalf any of the multiple questions swirling around in his brain. Most importantly, he had two main questions that he wanted answers to.

First, why had he felt some kind of reaction when he’d touched the casket’s lid but none of the other dwarves had the same reaction? Second, why did he feel a certain pull towards this human? Although Dwalin wasn’t entirely sure if the second question should really be asked or whether that was something more personal that he should really figure out for himself.

In any case, the first of the two questions continued to bother him more and more as time passed, and Dwalin was determined to get [y/n] away from Gandalf for long enough to interrogate the frustrating wizard.

In order to do this, Dwalin enlisted the help of two of the most mischievous dwarves… the young princes, Fili and Kili. In truth, he threatened them into helping him get [y/n] away from the wizard, but past that he’d left it up to the two young dwarves to come up with exactly how they were going to do that.

[Y/n] had point-blank refused to attend the dinner the elves were hosting for them that night; she still wasn’t ready to face Elrond and any of the other elves who would recognise her. After realising that this was an occasion when [y/n]’s stubbornness would not be out-matched – even by a dwarf – the dwarves all swore to sneak food into various pockets to bring her back enough for a proper meal.

“No member of my company will go without a proper meal.” Thorin’s words were eagerly echoed by the rest of the company, including one extremely insistent hobbit (although given the meal of rabbit food they were about to be served, they’d soon think that none of them were going to get a ‘proper’ meal whilst they were staying with the elves.)

As the company - minus [y/n] – made their way towards where they would be eating, Dwalin couldn’t help but feel a tiny thrill of excitement. This dinner could give him the perfect opportunity to quiz Gandalf without [y/n] being present. Maybe he wouldn’t need the young princes and their ridiculous schemes to distract [y/n] after all. Imagine his disappointment when Gandalf wasn’t even sat at the same table as him. He still enjoyed the dinner, all of the company did. What with the terrible food and their knowledge of the elves’ treatment of [y/n], they tried their best to be as rowdy and disruptive as possible.

Dwalin hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Gandalf at the dinner due to their seating arrangements – yet another reason to dislike the elves – but this unfortunately meant that he now had to rely on the childish schemes of Fili and Kili to get [y/n] away from Gandalf.

Being as they were, in Rivendell, the two princes had to hash out a rather crude plan… or at least they thought they had to. That was until they were discovered scheming by two very special elves – Elladan and Elrohir. The two dwarves were instantly on their guard, naturally. They’d been taught to hate elves since birth, and this had only been reinforced by hearing [y/n]’s story. Despite this, there was a certain energy coming from the two male elves that they related to.

“What are you two doing?” One of the elves asked, only for both Fili and Kili to shoot back at the same time. “Who are you?!”

The response that they received was so startlingly like the way they themselves usually greeted strangers that it almost made their beards fall off.

“Elladan and Elrohir at your service, young dwarf masters.” Though their bows were more graceful and less energetic than the bows that Fili and Kili usually blessed people with, they were still completely synchronised. The two dwarves blinked, looked at each other, then back to the elves before rising to give their own greeting.

Something about [y/n] that should, perhaps, have been mentioned earlier was the fact that she really didn’t like to dress like a lady. There was something about the way that women were treated by most males in middle earth that just got on her last nerve. Sure, there was a level of respect that was nice and she didn’t have to worry about her ‘honour’ when she was around males for the most part, but still, being treated like a delicate flower all the time was pretty annoying. Especially when she’d been taught how to fight by Glorfindel himself.

To try and distance herself from this treatment, [y/n] had taken to wearing what was considered ‘mens clothing’. To the credit of the dwarves, so far they hadn’t treated her any different to how they treated the hobbit, and so [y/n] was satisfied that the way they treated her was more to do with their (mistaken) belief that she didn’t know how to protect herself than her gender. Then again, she’d been put into that casket in her usual get-up of mens clothing and [y/n] believed that it was entirely possible they hadn’t really registered that she was a woman yet.

Why is this information necessary now? I’ll tell you, because this information is necessary to understand the prank that the dwarf brothers and the elf twins had come up with.

[Y/n] couldn’t cling to Gandalf forever – she needed to bathe after all. This could have given Dwalin the opportunity he needed, except [y/n] always bathed extremely quickly and the topics Dwalin wanted to discuss seemed sensitive enough that the thought of having [y/n] burst in during the discussion turned the warrior’s ears pink. So when [y/n] went off to bathe Fili and Kili sprang up and followed after her sneakily, nodding to Dwalin, who got up to talk to Gandalf as soon as [y/n] was fully out of sight.

When Fili and Kili found the room where [y/n] was bathing, they found the two elves they’d sort of befriended already waiting outside for them.

“Here.”

One of the elves – Elladan – handed a bundle of clothes to Kili, whilst Elrohir offered an explanation.

“This belonged to [y/n] when she lived here, so we know it’ll fit.” The two elves laughed quietly, trying to keep their voices down so as to not alert the woman bathing behind the door they were all standing in front of.

The dwarven princes had a look of confusion etched onto their faces that was almost enough to make the elves laugh still more, but they managed to contain themselves. This time, Elladan was the one to explain.

“This dress is the only one left. Lord Elrond kept trying to convince [y/n] to wear her dresses – at least for dinners and special occasions – and he kept replacing her clothes with dresses whilst she was sleeping. In retaliation, [y/n] piled all her dresses up in the courtyard and set them on fire. This dress only survived because it was away being altered.” By the end, both Fili and Kili were grinning widely.

“From the little we know of her, that does sound like something she’d do.” Fili managed to get out through this own half-silent chuckles.

“Enough now.” Elladan quickly hushed everyone. “You haven’t got much time, go now, and hurry!”

As the two dwarves opened the door to the room, Elladan and Elrohir skedaddled, knowing that there would be dire consequences from this little prank and they didn’t want to be caught up in [y/n]’s inevitable anger.

As they crept into the room, the dwarves were relieved to find that [y/n] was facing away from them, and that her pile of clothes was within reach. Fili made a grab towards the pile and at the same time Kili put the folded dress down. The two princes bolted, barely having the presence of mind to try and close the door quietly. They knew they didn’t have long before they were discovered.

[Y/n]’s eyes snapped open. She’d accidentally fallen asleep in the middle of her bath, and now she’d woken up with a strong feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She got out of the bath and dried herself off with the towel provided. It felt strange being back in Rivendell knowing it’d been hundreds of years since she’d been there but it felt like mere hours. It was only when [y/n] went to dress herself that she realised what was wrong specifically.

Fili and Kili had made their way back to the common room where the rest of the dwarves were, gaining a concerned look from Dwalin who was still having hushed conversation with Gandalf in a far corner. The princes merely gave him a thumbs up and mouthed at him to continue.

Moments later, [y/n] came rushing into the common room wearing the very same dress that had been left for her – she couldn’t just run around the place totally naked now could she? Her eyes focused on the two dwarves who she thought were capable of doing such a thing, and not to her surprise Fili was still holding an incriminating pile of clothes on his lap. The two princes instantly sprang to their feet and ran off, though Fili still clutched to the bundle of clothes like his life depended on it.

[Y/n] dashed across the room and hurried after them. The members of the company remaining in the room all laughed and shook their heads before returning to what they were doing before. Well, all except Dwalin, who had been left with a very confusing mix of emotions, and it had taken Gandalf several minutes to snap the warrior back to reality so that they could continue their discussion.

[Y/n] chased Fili and Kili for almost half an hour before the two of them accidentally ran head first into a wall. Kili woke up to see his brother’s body being pulled in all sorts of directions and it looked absolutely back breaking. Kili tried to move but found that his wrists and ankles were bound.

“What are you??”

“I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry!” Fili yelled back, desperately trying to squirm away and failing miserably.

Kili, realising he was next, started yelling that he was sorry as well. [Y/n] paused, holding Fili in a fixed position to look over at Kili.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this.” She raised her hand and dramatically pointed an accusatory finger at the younger dwarf. “Sorry isn’t gonna help you when I kick your ass!!!”

When you marched the princes back to the common room almost an hour later you were dressed once again in your regular clothes, whilst Fili and Kili were stuffed into incredibly ill-fitting elvish dresses. They were sore and felt ridiculous, but they were already formulating a plan to get some type of reward from Dwalin for their suffering.

[Y/n] just looked smug as she dropped herself beside Bilbo and effortlessly slid back into the conversation she’d been having with him before she’d gone to bathe as if nothing had happened.

Dwalin, who had finished his conversation with Gandalf by that point, couldn’t pretend that the manner of the princes’ return didn’t amuse him, though he did feel a tiny bit sorry for them. The other dwarves found it hilarious, and they began badgering Fili and Kili into telling them what happened and eventually, two very grumpy and very uncomfortable young dwarves recalled the events for the rest of the company to hear. All of them went to sleep that night with their cheeks aching from laughter. Dwalin had, of course, also been highly amused when he’d heard the particulars, though he’d found himself more impressed by [y/n]’s display of stamina and strength.

“That’s my kind of woman.” He thought to himself just as he was settling down for the night. Wait… what?!

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Unexpected Destiny tags:

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Bard never thought that much of Thranduil's top surgery scars, he was told Thran had surgery, and they never bothered him, so that was it. Until Bard finally asked Thran how he got the scars. Thran just gives Bard a look. (Trans Thran, you can throw in my boi Elrond if you want XD.)

//This one is close to my heart for very obvious reasons. Thank you for letting me write this and I hope you enjoy it. 

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Scars.

Everyone had them.

All different kinds, from all sorts of injuries- embarrassing or serious.

Life gave you scars, some people were proud of them and others sought to hide them, overall most of the time they weren’t anyone else's business but your own.

Well… all of the time.

People can share stories of their scars with you but only if they want that, you cannot demand the story of another person’s body, nor will they ever be obligated to tell you anything about the world that lives on their skin or under it.

Thranduil had scars.

Scars on his chest, one healing and almost invisible on his forearm. They were faint silvery things that Bard only noticed when they were close.

The discussion of scars never came up between them in conversation, and honestly, Bard never thought it was any of his business.

Though he could not deny he was curious, still, he never mentioned it, curiosity needn't be spoken out loud.

Bard and Thranduil had not been together all that long, a couple of months, they met at the tail end of winter, the last dregs of the winter festivals loitering on the outskirts of the city, looking more menacing than cheery now that Christmas had passed by.

The grey slush had soaked Bard from his shoes up to the calves of his jeans, but he’d trudged dutifully through the snow with his youngest sibling to take her to see the reindeer that lay sullenly at the far end of a dreary paddock.

Tilda was far too involved with naming the reindeer to notice that her older brother’s attention was elsewhere.

A literal angel that had descended from the Heavens was leaning over the paddock fence watching the animals intently as though his gaze might will them to their feet.

It did not and eventually, they gave up, as they turned they caught Bard’s gaze and gave a shy smile before trying to hurry off through the slippery slush.

He’d had half a mind to follow the stranger but even the allure of smooth skin and long blond hair could not pull him from his tiny sister and her joy at seeing “Santa’s reindeer”. They remained at the fence for another 10 minutes before Tilda complained she was cold and Bard offered to take her to get hot chocolate to warm up.

Tilda had taken a seat by the window with her mug of hot chocolate leaving Bard to navigate a chair through the packed cafe, he sat quietly while Tilda chatted about the animals and the names she gave them, meanwhile, Bard could not shake the feeling of awe that had struck him at the sight of the blond stranger.

Sadly, he didn’t see him again that day.

They bumped into another a few weeks later, Bard instantly recognised him and stood in panicked silence as the blond apologised for not watching where he walked- after a long awkward pause Bard cleared his throat and did something he had never truly imaged he’d have the courage to do.

He spoke to him.

“I saw you- uh, at the winter festival.” He blurted out his voice croaking midway through his sentence, mortifying really, he would have to spend the rest of his life living as a hermit in the mountains now…

The blond just nodded as though Bard pointing out the obvious was the norm for him like he had expected this for some reason, the same shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he looked away.

“Ah, you were really staring at those reindeer.” Again, words came forth and he was wondering if his brain had actually engaged with the rest of his body that morning when he left the house, it seemed not but the blond responded this time with actual words.

Good LORD that voice could restart a heart.

“They looked sad,” Three words and Bard already knew he was done for, who sounds like that and looks like that- this whole beautiful package?! “I was trying to work out if I could come back that night and steal them.” He seemed sincere and Bard had to take a moment to relearn how to breathe as he choked on air.

“So… did you?”

He never got an answer instead he received a very rushed query that sounded something along the lines of ‘Wouldyouliketograbcoffee…. Youcansayno.” After deciphering the code Bard accepted the offer and they headed to the closest place for coffee.

Once in the warmth the blond opened up a bit and apologised for not introducing himself.

His name was Thranduil.

“I’m Bard, it is really nice to meet you, Thranduil.”

And that was how they met, they had had coffee and then remained in contact until a mutual friend forced them to ask one another out.

Even after 4 months Bard still couldn’t quite believe his luck, some mornings, after Thranduil had stayed the night Bard would roll over to watch the other sleep and he’d have to pinch himself to make sure the whole scene was real and he wasn’t just enjoying a ridiculously vivid dream.

Silly maybe, but Bard did really feel so incredibly lucky.

He realised quickly that Thranduil was a quiet man, always seemingly deep in thought, never sharing the contents on his mind as though the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe was to keep it bottled up in one head until one day something clicked.

That’s what Bard imagined, that had a complex system of thoughts and feelings zipping through his mind at a thousand miles per hour leaving him reeling but unaffected on the outside.

It was not fair to put him on a pedestal like that, he knew deep down if he ever voiced his thoughts that Thranduil would be hurt and he wasn’t sure why, it just felt wrong that he assumed the other was on the side of Godhood than mortal man.

Maybe in a past life…

The blond had a flair for art, thought stifled by his family and their expectations of him. Always needing to be better, to stand taller, to speak clearer and only to speak if the words held meaning- a scary way to live wondering if your words meant anything to those that surrounded you on a daily basis.

Asking to pass the salt would likely end up in a conversation about the wealth of the earth if that was how he was to live.

Bard hoped it was a slight embellishment the information Thranduil fed him, the tiny morsels of his life at home revealed with one sentence at a time but as soon as the blond realised he was talking about home he shut down.

There were times Bard would be studying frantically very last minute for an exam, his masters was important but not important enough to study in good time for a test,… at 29 years old he still lived like a teenager but with more bills and more responsibility, and suddenly he would be presented with a sketch of himself his hair wild and falling in his eyes as he leaned over a book gripping a pen a little too tightly.

Thranduil often explaining that it was always a pleasure to draw him while he studied or even slept, though he would quickly add that he hoped he did not “appear creepy” at the admission that he had, indeed, watched him sleep once or twice just to draw him.

“All in the name of art!” Bard would quip, he would then proceed to smother the blond with kisses- though if things got too steamy Thranduil would stammer out excuses before putting some distance between them.

Apologies would come from both of them but the air would remain tense. It was usually around this time that Thranduil would take his leave and head home claiming he had forgotten some important appointment with his family or doctor.

He saw the doctor a lot, and it worried Bard. Yet, he did not pry.

It all came to a head one summer night, they were walking back from a garden party/BBQ hosted by the same mutual friend that got them together, both of them on the right side of buzzed from the few drinks they had.

He wasn't sure why he brought it up, the lack of intimacy in their relationship and his constant doctor's visits.

“We have intimacy it just isn't sexual. I know it isn't enough for you,” The words came out wrong and sounded accusatory to his own ears. “In truth, it isn't enough for me either.” Thranduil trailed off and looked away, he couldn't find any other words to further explain himself.

His gaze stayed on the floor for a moment to shield himself from Bard's curious and intense gaze.

“Tell me about you, what bothers you. Share the burden, you don't have to do this alone.” Bard grabbed Thranduil's hand giving it a supportive squeeze, smiling when the blond finally looked up at him.

“I'm so scared of how you'll see me if I tell you who I am.”

“You're Thranduil, my boyfriend and sketch artist extraordinaire!” They both laugh and Thranduil seemed more at ease but fear lingered in his now glassy blue eyes.

It was now or never it seemed.

“I've seen you look at the scars on my chest, I know you're curious and honestly thought you'd work it out from that but… now I'm seriously thinking that you just look at me adoringly and don't think what things are only that they are there.” A weak and nervous laugh escapes Thranduil, his hand is damp in Bard's and he pulls it from the other's grip.

“Well…” Bard began a small smile forming as they continued to walk back towards his flat, Thranduil was half right. It had never occurred to him that they were close enough that he could ask- he knew they were in a romantic relationship and that generally they could be more open about themselves but to Bard it still seemed inappropriate to ask about something like that.

Scars were something intimate and secretive about a person, a story that they may have buried deep within themselves almost repressed so as to not relive the memories every time they saw the reminder in their skin.

They way Thranduil spoke it was as though he wanted Bard to ask, perhaps it was easier to explain if someone asked than to broach the subject completely out of the blue and unbidden.

Quite the quandary, Bard was well aware that his boyfriend was notoriously secretive about many things, many personal things aside from his general interests and whatnot.

To ask him now was bold but if he didn’t he may lose the chance to try again later. The alcohol in his system buoyed his confidence to a degree and with some hesitation pushed on and bit the bullet.

“I do want to know- I see them all the time and I am curious as all Hell what they could be from. I just…,” He stopped speaking trying to grasp at words all the while they continued to walk now in an awkward silence both holding their breath for a moment. “How do you even bring up the conversation of scars without sounding like an ass with no tact?” Thranduil laughed as soon as he heard Bard’s reasoning for remaining shy on the subject and he grabbed his hand to squeeze it, clearly happy that his boyfriend was just as unsure as he was at times.

Though it never really showed, the uncertainty he certainly harboured. Bard seemed untouchable in his enthusiasm and courage, constantly looking out to the horizon and following the edge of the world rather than looking at his feet and watching his every step.

Never brutish in his words or actions, not overly gentle but capable of comfort- he had a calming influence simply because he seemed so confident all the time.

Thranduil felt lucky to have met such a man by chance, and he didn’t want to think about the future especially if Bard was not in it- there was a flutter of hope in his chest that once he explained what he had been through things would not change. But such an outlook felt entirely too positive for Thranduil and he dampened down the hope so that his expectation fit with who he felt he was and how he came across to others.

There had never been a time he had enquired as to how people saw him from the outside looking in, that would require speaking to a lot of people and he already felt tired thinking of doing so.

“They are surgery scars.” God, the words had come out in one breath and he felt his inside seize up as Bad whipped his head round to look at Thran, his eyes darted to his shirt then back to his face before speaking.

“Surgery scars, were you unwell?”

Thranduil gave a noise that could be construed as ‘Well…’ but nothing more, after a moment of silence Bard spoke again.

“You can tell me, I promise you that everything will be fine.”

That was not a promise Bard could make not with the nature of the surgery, instead it would open a whole other can of worms, Thranduil felt stiff with fear, the process of rigor mortis setting in before he’d even died from the sheer fear of what he was doing. HIs heart had never beat so fast.

“For a long time I believed I was sick, that there was something horribly wrong with me but I was not sick I just didn’t have the words to describe who I was yet.” He was drawing this out unnecessarily and it wasn’t helping his anxious heartbeat in the slightest.

“I am transgender, I have not always been known as Thranduil and the scars are from surgery to sculpt my chest to appear more masculine.” The stunned silence that followed was sickening, it felt heavy and cold in the pit of Thranduil’s stomach and he felt tears sting the corners of his eyes.

Then there it was! Bard’s grip tightened on Thranduil’s hand the squeeze of comfort he had always offered until he realised he was being pulled round to face his boyfriend.

They were stood at the foot of the path that led to Bard’s front door.

Their eyes met.

“This changes nothing- Thranduil, I love you, I can’t even think of enough words to get across how much I love you. I know you’re scared, I mean, you’ve just told me something huge something important to you and honestly I feel honoured that you trust me with this.” Bard wasn’t sure what to say, for all he knew Thranduil was the first transgender person he had ever met, he couldn’t be sure but he was definitely the first transgender person who had openly told him that about themselves.

Rather than hanging around outside while the blond felt so vulnerable, he tugged Thranduil into walking again and they went inside.

Thranduil remained quiet for a long time, Bard moved about the flat a moment before returning with a glass of water for Thranduil who accepted it gratefully.

“I- want to ask a question but I think it is too forward,” Even as he spoke Bard regretted the words but Thranduil had a knowing look in his eyes, as though he had expected a certain question before it had even been voiced.

“You want to know if this is the reason we haven’t had sex.” His tone flat and he took a sip of water, one hand clenched into a ball rested on his thigh the other holding tightly to the glass, at that moment he looked exhausted and Bard was at a loss on what to say.

So, rather than saying anything he sat next to Thranduil and covered his balled fist with his hand giving a light squeeze- the blond needed time and he absolutely needed an apology.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t necessary for me to question you on that- I can’t just assume things about you.” There were many things he wanted to say but wording them seemed hard now, or at least accusatory and that was the last thing he wanted.

“No, it’s fine, really… it is the reason but the fact you just jumped right to that as though, as though it was something that was wrong and not just nerves. I can’t expect you to be perfect about this if you don’t know anything.”

“You’re right to be upset, I wasn’t exactly delicate about it, and I shouldn’t have questioned you at all. Google is a thing, you don’t have to tell me anything, I want you to know that you have the freedom to tell me whatever you want or not.” Finally Thranduil set down the glass eyes red and glassy still he wanted to cry with relief that this man still loved him the fear in the back of his mind that leached into his heart and stomach was subsiding- how terrified he had been to think that Bard would toss him aside for ‘lying’ to him this whole time.

But no, his Bard as not like that. His Bard wanted to learn and understand and his Bard treated him like a human, as a man.

“I love you.”

BTS Members as the Sons of Feanor

OH MY GOSH WHAT THE HECK

so @thelonelybrilliance just showed up late to the Silmarillion and new to BTS and she decided to break my brain by tagging me and @abadpoetwithdreams asking us if we could match up the 7 members of BTS with the 7 sons of Feanor. May she never ask such a question again because I have spent about 6 hours total writing this rant essay that is somewhere of abouts 3500 words. I don’t have the self-control to stop myself from things like this, I love Tolkien and BTS too much

anyway here is a very long and rambling post that was partially composed in my head in the shower and is now just stream of consciousness

(Disclaimer: The members of BTS are beautiful souls and this post is in no way saying that they are as murderous as my problematic faves the sons of Feanor)

ok so the only thing I know for ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN is that Namjoon is Maedhros. if you know anything at all about BTS and the Feanorians, the reasons are obvious:

1. Namjoon is the tallest, and Maedhros is literally called Maedhros the Tall.

2. Maedhros has a lot of names but he was called Maitimo by his mom which means “beautiful” or “well-shaped one” and such an appellation is perfect for Namjoon (ok let’s be real the name could fit every single member of BTS but whatever)

3. (and most important!) never was there a more harried elf trying to keep his brothers in line and alive and not cut to pieces by some justifiably insulted cousin or Sindarin. Maedhros is the mom, the dad, the king, the leader, the eldest bro. “Guys, can we NOT be rude to the sons of Finarfin, can we NOT start a war among the Noldor when we still have Morgoth just across the way” I’m pretty sure he would also lose his passport multiple times if Middle-earth had such things, because his brothers are hard enough to keep track of. while Namjoon may not be the eldest in years, everything else matches up too perfectly. He is the leader of BTS, the spokesman, the one who encourages the other members to step up and speak, helps them with their English (even when he judges them for their dumb mistakes lol), is literally SO DONE with his bros all the time but loves them so freaking much. He is the planner, the peace-maker, yet also has fire in his veins and has seen a lot of darkness and suffering and survived to become even stronger. So too with Namjoon

(caveat: if BTS were Feanorians, and Namjoon captured by Morgoth himself, there is no freaking way they wouldn’t have done SOMETHING to rescue their fearless leader. Jin and Jungkook would storm Thangorodrim fists swinging, followed by Jimin and J-Hope, fierce like you’ve never seen them, and Taehyung would Luthien Tinuviel Morgoth centuries early, or Yoongi would simply glare at Morgoth till he shrank down into a puddle of trembling goo. Don’t laugh at me you know I’m right)

moving on

I have maybe two choices for Maglor? One is Jin, but that might partially be because everyone always talks about how Namjoon and Jin are the mom and dad or dad and mom of BTS. and Maglor is always paired in my head with Maedhros as the other parental figure of the Feanorian bros, though that might be because of how he and Maedhros look after Elrond and Elros. Of course, I love Jin’s singing and I will never ever ever be over “Epiphany”, so I am way cool with making Jin Maglor as far as the music thing goes

All this said, I am not sure if this is the best fit overall. Jin is the King of Chaos in BTS, and I wouldn’t name Maglor as such...also I think I might have another Feanorian for Jin, but I’ll get to that later (spoilers, it’s...Curufin??!) (oh no, I just realized I might have one other argument for Jin being Maglor: “I use other people to make myself happy. I make myself smile by making others smile.” Like, that could be a good quote for Maglor potentially, if you want to relate it to his music, or his care for Elrond and Elros……..but I’m still thinking Curufin for Jin. Stay tuned)

So anyway my other option for Maglor would be...oh heck no I have two other options. No wait THREE. What the HECK. ok let me figure this out. The options are J-Hope, Yoongi, and Jimin. I’m not even sure why yet so let’s find out. (sidenote: if Maedhros did not exist Namjoon the song-writer would be Maglor, as the greatest poet and bard)

1.  J-Hope as Maglor: I don’t know, I had reasons but they are escaping me. Maglor is said to have had a gentler temperament than his brothers and I would say J-Hope has a very soft sunshine heart. I guess one thing is that Maglor was left to hold everybody together when Maedhros was captured by Morgoth, and if Namjoon was ever hung on a cliff for an indeterminate amount of time or whatever equals that in our world, J-Hope would step up. I keep seeing things about how he supports the other members when they are having tough times, giving them encouragement and food and love. He leads them in practicing dance choreography all the time, and if I remember I am pretty sure Namjoon actually stated that Hoseok would make a good group leader. 

Also one time Namjoon was talking about Hobi (oh shoot, should J-Hope of the many names be Maedhros of the many names? Lol maybe in that one universe where Namjoon is Maglor, then Hobi could could be Maedhros) Namjoon says that J-Hope is like water (where did Maglor toss his Silmaril again hmm?) and puts people at ease. Well idk about other people but Maglor seems to have put Elrond and Elros at ease because even after that whole Kinslaying thing “love grew between them as little might be thought.” I too would probably come to love J-Hope no matter the past between us. He is just that sweet and soft-hearted

2.  Yoongi as Maglor: ok honestly I really really actually want Yoongi for Caranthir, more on that later. However I also like Yoongi as Maglor because it is unexpected, yet certain things just feel right. I keep thinking about Yoongi’s “First Love” where he raps about how his PIANO was his first love (GOSH ISN’T THAT THE SWEETEST THING EVER) also in Lee Sora’s “Song Request” he raps this: “I’m happiness to someone and the soul to another / A lullaby to someone and at times a noise / I’ll be with you at your birth and your end / Remember we’re always together anywhere / I’ll always console your life / So just lean on me and rest sometimes” and LOOK I JUST DIED TYPING THIS but what I am getting at is music is burnt into Yoongi’s soul as I think it is Maglor’s, and Yoongi really is very soft and loving and also one time Namjoon said that Yoongi “makes me ponder about what kind of person I am” and Maglor several times is a voice of reason and very much tries to dissuade Maedhros from going after the Silmarils one last time. Idk it could work (but also...CARANTHIR) (BUT ALSO OMG YOONGI’S VOICE MURDERS ME WHEN HE RAPS AND HIS PASSION WOW AND NOW I AM PICTURING MODERN DAY MAGLOR RAPPING  OBLIQUELY ABOUT HIS FAMILY AND PAST AND PAIN UGGGGGGGHHHH

3.  Who was my other choice? Right, Jimin. Why did I say Jimin?? ? i don’t remember, dang it

Ok I think it is definitely time to do Caranthir.

As previously stated, I love Yoongi as Caranthir. I have my reasons personally I think they are very good reasons :D Ok Caranthir is WOW ok I am OFFENDED because I just went to double-check something on wikipedia and I typed Caranthir into the Google search engine and the first three results were all about this Caranthir dude from the Witcher, and while that game seems very interesting I am UPSET for Yoongi’s I mean Caranthir the Dark’s sake.

AHEM

Caranthir the Dark. What a name. I mean it might just be a reference to his father-name of Morifinwe and to his hair, but he is also described as being the harshest and quickest to anger. Yoongi, bless his soul and his actually very soft and squishy heart, is well known for: being unbothered by BTS general antics, for being the one to sit back and watch everyone else do dumb stuff (like when they were all dancing to MIC drop and he just walks away from them, or when they are all acting like kids jumping in the pool and he just watches with a smile on his face while drinking a glass of wine and look to me Caranthir is the one Feanorian who doesn’t pair up with anyone in particular, like we have Maedhros and Maglor, Celegorm and Curufin, Amrod and Amras, but Caranthir is the one who goes off and lives separate from them and

GOSH now I sound so dumb because I am NOT trying to say that Caranthir doesn’t love his bros or that Yoongi is a loner that is NOT what I am saying, agh I mean Caranthir is great (minus, you know, the kin-slayings the Feanorians sadly fall into) and even befriends Haleth’s people and protects them, t’s just this weird categorizing thing in my head, that Caranthir is the crusty brother, and while he loves his bros to DEATH and they him, the majority of his bros are sliiiiightly afraid of him, in a brotherly way, like how the members are with Yoongi! Like just recently oh what was it, they were on a BTS Run episode and someone had to splash or otherwise give Yoongi a penalty and right away everyone was like NAMJOON YOU DO IT. turning to the leader hyung because they don’t want Yoongi to be mad at them

Of course now I am remembering that one post of gifs demonstrating how Jungkook is the only one who can bother Yoongi without dying lol except NOW I am picturing Amrod the youngest Feanorian* being the only one who can bother Caranthir and then the ensuing PAIN because Amrod Umbarto (thanks for THAT name, Mom) perishes (in certain canon) in flames at the Burning of the Ships and wowwww no I do not need any of this pain

*SIDENOTE: AMROD IS THE YOUNGEST IN CERTAIN CANON WHICH CONFUSES THINGS A HECK OF A LOT SEE THE AMROD AND AMRAS SECTION BELOW

I’m pretty sure I have never rambled so much in my life and also pretty sure I have way too many parentheses and not all of them are closed oops

Anyway, imagine Caranthir as the brother you are afraid of but would die for and who would die for you if anyone looks at you wrong, the brother with the wry acerbic wit, but who LITERALLY LIGHTS UP THE UNIVERSE WITH HIS SMILE AND ALSO DOESN’T EXPRESS HIS LOVE ALOUD AS OFTEN AS SOME OF YOUR BROTHERS DO BUT

HE SECRETLY LOVES PHYSICAL CONTACT AT TIMES AND ALSO SECRETLY LOVES PIGGY-BACK RIDES EVEN THO HE PROFESSES TO HATE THEM AND GIVES OUT WISE LIFE ADVICE TO HIS BROS AND HIS PEOPLE AND IS SUCH A SOFTIE FOR HIS BROS AND OCCASIONALLY SENDS ONE OF HIS BABY BROS LONG LETTERS WITH A SIMPLE “I LOVE YOU” AT THE END THAT HAS CELEGORM OR AMROD CRYING FOR TEN MINUTES (HAHAHA GUESS WHO I THINK TAEHYUNG WOULD BE)

Also someone has to be the best cook of the Feanorians and it might as well be Caranthir

….apparently I’m not done with Caranthir, because “the Dark” also makes me think of a dark horse, or at least something happening that is unexpected, and that reminds me of that interview where dad/mom/interpreter Namjoon was like yeah none of the other members can speak English, and then Yoongi just out of NOWHERE speaks a line of great English and Namjoon was like ….guess I was wrong

OKAAAAY WHERE ARE WE

I do not have very clear thoughts about who the rest of the members are so let’s just go with my brain and hope it makes some good connections

Let’s do Celegorm since I just mentioned him

Celegorm could be either Taehyung or….Jin? :? Merrr idk. Let’s examine

I think the main reason why I jump at the option of Tae for Celegorm is because of Tae’s love for his dog Yeontan, or Tan, and of course Celegorm is the master of Huan, and they had a very special relationship for ages until Celegorm f---ed up. Seriously, you want to see something cute? Look up Tae’s Vlive that is entirely focused on his lil pupper (what am I saying look up ANYTHING about Tae and you will find something cute)

On the other hand Jin could be Celegorm because Celegorm is known as the Fair and if you don’t know by now that Jin is World Wide Handsome I don’t know how I can help you

OMG WAIT I JUST THOUGHT OF OTHER REASONS WHY JIN COULD BE CELEGORM! So Celegorm’s father-name is Turcafinwë, which basically means “strong in body” and Jin has got those broad shoulders (gosh they are so broad). Also, Celegorm’s mother-name is Tyelkormo, or “hasty riser,” referring to his quick temper and habit of leaping when angered. And this doesn’t perfectly relate but the amount of times I have seen Jin yelling or just being wild in general or even just pretending to be mad makes me think of this. Also there was one time idk what was even going on but Jin was struggling to pronounce Bangtansonyeon-dan (SAME) and saying it was too long and difficult and J-Hope was teasing him and Namjoon told him not to get mad since he had been calling himself a fairy and shouldn’t be mad as such, and Jin was like hey I can be a mad fairy if I want lol

See now I am just confused because now I am looking back at Jin as Maglor and I might like that better? WHY IS THIS SO HARD

Speaking of Jin, and Celegorm, why on EARTH was I thinking of Jin for Curufin? Ugggh see my problem is I ran out of time last night and so I am finishing the essay some 20 hours later and I kNOW that when I was saying Jin should be Curufin I had a better reason then their names rhyme. Heck, I could make that same argument for Jimin as Curufin.

Except I also have a second and better argument for Jimin as Curufin, at least under the circumstance where Taehyung is Celegorm. Look, all the BTS members are really close with each other, and you can literally argue all day about who is closer to who (a really pointless waste of time in my opinion I mean why argue when you can just melt over them all being sweet and funny and kind and teasing with each other) but anyway all that aside one thing I love in particular is how sweet Jimin and Taehyung often are with each other, holding hands and comforting each other and being on teams in competitions *starts laughing at the memory of them being complete disasters that one cooking show* and anyway Celegorm and Curufin seem pretty inseparable, running around causing all kinds of trouble (guys sTOP). Jimin and Taehyung have called themselves soulmates, so it makes sense to have them be part of a duo

Not that Taehyung would engage in a kidnapping stunt like Celegorm did, but the point is, Jimin, the precious bby, has Tae’s back

Jimin: “Taehyung is the happiest when he is with me” aww

This has nothing to do with the point of this post but I just need to stop here and say that Jimin is so freaking talented I was just looking up some gifsets of him and obviously his singing is angelic but also OMGGG his dancing!!!

Ok, jumping back slightly, I guess one way Jin could be Curufin is if Jungkook is Celegorm, because I could see those beautiful dorks running around causing all kinds of trouble, except I really have no reason to have Jungkook be Celegorm, especially since he is very much Amras in my head for reasons

OOOH NO I also thought of a way in which Jungkook could be--wait for it--cURUFIN. WHY AM I LIKE THIS

You see, Curufin was his dad’s favorite son and thus Feanor gave his favorite son the exact same father-name Feanor had, Curufinwë, and Curufin is the only son who chose to use his father-name over his mother-name if I recall, and anyway all meaning he probably loved his dad a lot and was proud of his name, and this makes me think of how Namjoon gave Jungkook the title of the Golden Maknae and of how freaking much Jungkook looks up to and respects Namjoon (look while Namjoon is a hyung, he is also a dad figure, so he may as well be Feanor and Maedhros both)

I guess if Jungkook were Curufin, Jin could go back to being Celegorm

Aaaaggggh you do not know how much hair I have pulled out this is taking a lot of brainwork

FINALLY AT THE LAST TWO

We now present my exceedingly confused ramblings regarding the twins Amrod and Amras. Before we begin, let me SHAKE MY FIST AT TOLKIEN FOR MAKING THIS ESSAY EVEN MORE CONFUSING TO WRITE

See, I had Jungkook all set up in my head as Amras, the youngest son according to the Silmarillion. Jungkook is the maknae, the baby, and all the members DOTE on him and he loves them and respects them and pesters them and it’s great, so yeah Jungkook has to be Amras the baby of the Feanorians. I would then put Taehyung as Amrod, the just barely older bby who the other members also adore and protect. Jungkook and Taehyung are SO FREAKING CUTE whenever they are doing stuff together, whether it is singing or hugging or holding each other on their backs while they singing. When they goof off together or pester each other, they are the most precious, must dorkiest dorks to ever be my faves. Hence why I pair them together in my head as Amrod and Amras, at least the times when I am not pairing Tae with Jimin or Jungkook with Jin. Amrad and Amras seem as inseparable as Celegorm and Curufin, and they go off and live in some beautiful wild part of the land and basically stick to hunting and staying out of everyone’s business until they get reminded they took a stupid oath

EXCEPT then Tolkien has one alternate writing where the youngest is actually AMROD and Amrod dies at the burning of the ships because Feanor doesn’t know how to count his kids I guess (Namjoon you lost something again) (sorry that is a terrible joke) (but is it made slightly better by the fact that while Namjoon is apparently Feanor he is much more Maedhros, who was against the burning of the ships and did not participate?) so like this is where I started to get my third headache (exacerbated by the fact that I haven’t eaten dinner yet and it is 9 pm what is wrong with me) because then I have to make Jungkook Amrod and Taehyung Amras. It’s such a trial having to write both their names next to both Feanorians

On the other hand, an interesting thing to think about is that in this alternate writing, Amras was so aggrieved by his brother’s death that he called out Feanor--Feanor!--for being so dumb as to A. call or let his wife call their youngest by the name of Umbarto (the Fated) and then to B. accidentally let him perish in a fire that FEANOR started because he had a grudge (and I think Tolkien wrote that that Amrod was possibly sleeping on the ships because he was upset with Feanor for the terrible deeds he was committing, so like, double way to go Feanor)

I am really tired and hungry my head hurts

What am I missing?

I like Taehyung and Jungkook best for Amrod and Amras a lot BUT if I were doing one of the other options above, I could see having the follow lineup:

Jin=Celegorm, Jungkook= Curufin, Jimin=Amrod, Taehyung=Amras

In this instance, I could see Jimin and Tae as either Amrod or Amras no matter which one is older. Taehyung could definitely be the bby and do his own thing but could also be the brother who mourns his brother and calls out Feanor. Actually though Jimin while being young and precious gives me more of an older brother vibe than Taehyung does, so I guess I would have Jimin be the elder of the twins. Yes, that makes more sense

UGH but wait if I put Jimin and Tae as Curufin and Celegorm, I could put Jungkook back as youngest bby Amrod or Amras, but would Jin fit into the older twin role? Maaaaybe, if you just think about Jungkook and Jin heading off by themselves and goofing off...I don’t like it as much though

Possibilities So Far

Maedhros: Namjoon, maybe J-Hope?

Maglor: Jin, J-Hope, Yoongi, maybe Namjoon

Caranthir: Yoongi

Celegorm: Taehyung, Jin

Curufin: Jimin, Jungkook

Amrod: Taehyung, Jungkook, Jimin

Amras: Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin

……………………….

I have spent five minutes now trying to figure out possible final line-ups but it’s all a mess

I  LITERALLY CAN’T THINK ANYMORE

I DECLARE THIS ESSAY/RANT HAS COME TO AN END

PLEASE CHELSEA SEND HELP!

WHAT AM I MISSING/HAVE WRONG? IS THERE A BETTER SPOT FOR J-HOPE? SHOULD SOMEONE ELSE BE CARANTHIR? COULD JIN BE A CARANTHIR IN SOME WAY?? (I THINK I COULD HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT BUT I AM TOO TIRED TO THINK THEM)

The Three Women Of Durin - A Second Awakening (53)

MASTERLIST FOR THIS STORY

(not my gif)

Thorin and Fili briskly walked together, weaving in and out of sick beds and the drained people who lay prisoner inside them. Thorin wondered what Fili was so desperate about him seeing, but found that he didn’t have the energy to be bothered about it too much, he simply allowed himself to be dragged by his nephew through the winding corridors of Erebor, his feet dragging underneath him.

Thorin during this time peeked a look at his eldest sister-son. Fili had grown wild since that day, losing hours and days of sleep because he simply couldn’t get his brain to stop whirring. He was the only one out of the remaining company that knew that himself, Kili and Thorin were supposed to die instead, and this one thought had completely and utterly consumed him. He had taken up a leading role to busy himself on the days where Thorin’s presence couldn’t be found. He organised the sick beds, he made sure they had enough supplies and he bid his farewells to Thranduil on behalf of the company (he also found rooms for Legolas who talked about leaving with Elrond and Tauriel who decided to stay with Legolas until he left).

Fili had stepped up because he didn’t know what else to do. The pain he, his brother and his uncle were sharing was too deep to be mended with talking to one another, they needed space from each other, they needed space from everyone. But, when you have certain blood running through your veins, you can’t afford to turn your back on the world.

Fili would like to say that he was handling the loss of his three friends well, but by this point, he would be only kidding himself. When the sun was up he put on a dry face, with a soft smile and crinkled eyes, but when the stars prickled across the blackened sky…well, he mourned them.

But it was only when a worried and fanatic Kili had shown up on his doorstep that morning had he been to see them, and that was exactly where he was taking Thorin. When Thorin noticed the place they were heading he thought surely not. But as they grew closer, the lower Thorin’s heart sank into his chest. What was Fili up to?

“Fili, why are you taking me there?” Thorin asked calm, there was no point in freaking out.

“Kili came to my door this morning,” Fili responded after a beat, Thorin had been a bomb recently, say the wrong thing, do the wrong action, and he would explode, “Apparently he’s been spending his time with them…he can’t seem to leave them alone,”

“Oh,” Another reason for Thorin’s heart to hurt, “But why are you taking me?”

“Kili said something was wrong, he couldn’t explain it but…” Fili paused walking turning to face his uncle with unsure eyes, watching carefully at Thorin’s reaction, “He said, he thought he saw them breathing,” Thorin didn’t say anything for a minute, a confusing silence crashing onto the small stone corridor.

“You sound unsure,” Thorin decided to respond with.

“Well,” Fili sighed, walking on, “We’ve all taken this badly haven’t we? Kili’s young, and he’s spent a lot of time in that room, there is a possibility that he’s seeing things. I guess he’s lost all hope so he’s searching for it,”

Thorin walked next to Fili in silence, the conversation dropping off into nowhere. When did he become so grown up? The thought rattled around Thorin’s head like his footsteps rattled around the mountain. Fili had a strong exterior on the outside, he always did, and Thorin couldn’t help but think that he would make the best king Erebor had seen in a long while. As Thorin closed in on the room he had left behind 29 days ago, Thorin thought of Kili. Fili was right, the young lad had been through so much trauma in the past few weeks for someone his age. Hope of the girls being alive shouldn’t be a question anymore, the hope they needed was one of learning to survive without them. But Thorin couldn’t help himself from thinking, what if?

Kili sat with wild eyes and wild hair, he was hunched over stone steps, head in hands, elbows on knees. And when Thorin and Kili walked he scrambled to his feet, more hysterical than excited.

“Kili,” Thorin said coolly whilst looking him up and down, he’s a mess.

“Uncle,” Kili responded, his voice short and sharp.

“Fili told me you might have seen something strange going on with the girls,” The word ‘girls’ got caught in Thorin’s throat but he disguised it with a cough, although, the people who surrounded him in that moment were the last people Thorin needed to put a brave face on for.

“Um, yeah,” Kili got out, he sounded unsure, “Last night I was…here, and I thought I saw the girls breathing,” Kili managed to get out. He looked and sounded rather mental.

“Kili…” Thorin breathed softly, “The girls, are dead, I know this is hard but-” Thorin began but was cut off.

“No,” Kili spluttered, “No I swear!” He turned to his brother.

“Kili…” Fili simply said in a pitying voice, he reached out for Kili who simply brushed him off.

“No!” He said rather loudly, “I’ve spent a lifetime of not being taken seriously because of the number of years I’ve walked on this planet. I know how you think of me. I know, that you think that because I’ll never be the king that I can’t act like one! The blood that runs through your veins, runs through mine. Don’t forget that,”

“Kili, we’re not questioning your authority, we’re questioning your judgement,” Thorin said sternly, unfortunately, this was the first time he had felt like himself since, well, you know, “Do you really think you’re in the correct mindset right now to make this kind of allegation!”

“But Thorin-”

“No!” Thorin shouted, a rumble from somewhere in his chest, “You understand that you are disrespecting the dead,” Silence crashed down on the room.

Thorin walked over to his nephew’s quivering form, a silent ghost of the person who had left the blue mountains nearly a year ago. Slowly, and with gentle hands he took hold of Kili’s shoulders, forcing him to look at him.

“I know this is hard for you,” Thorin said faintly, “It’s hard for everyone.” Thorin was searching for the right thing to say, searching for words that would make the sad echo in his sister-sons eyes wisp into nothingness. “But we can’t bring back the dead,” Thorin’s voice was breaking, “All we can do right now is learn how to live with the pain. But Kili…you’re not doing yourself any good by coming back here so often. There has to come to a time where you need to stop looking into your past for happiness.”

“Stop acting like you know how I’m feeling,” Kili whispered, it was a blue attempt to try and put his emotions into words, but Thorin simply took this as an opening to impart some wisdom he had only recently learned about himself.

“I think I do. I think you’re gripping onto nostalgic thoughts to make it seem like the time you had with them was longer. I bet now they look even brighter and exultant than they did before. I bet you’re thinking you can’t ever possibly feel like that again because they’re not in your life anymore,” Thorin wasn’t just talking to Kili anymore. “But, a time will come when you will smile brightly and laugh alongside a group of people who love you.” Thorin stepped back from his nephew with a warm gaze as the wise words from a friend rung around his ears, “I’m not saying it won’t ever not hurt to think of them, I’m just saying that one day the pain won’t consume you so badly, one day you will smile and not be surprised,” The word’s seemed to be working and Thorin could sense Fili’s presence behind him, all three of the remaining Durin’s gripping onto Thorin’s speech, each and every one of them in search for something to ease the pain. This was a moment to remember.

Thorin smiled once more at his young nephew before stepping back a little further and turning to see Fili who was staring right back at him. Fili touched his heart with a soft smile before reaching his hand out to Thorin, an action which he returned before turning away from his nephews and towards the bodies of the deceased. There were at least one hundred more gifts laid out on and around their stones. Notes, flowers, stones, gems and jewels, and so much more. There were more candles as well, they brightened up the room, making it feel less lonely than Thorin remembered it to be. Thorin was just about to turn and walk out, a new comfort settled in his stomach when his youngest nephew once more spoke up.

“I’d still like you to check them,” Kili’s frail voice echoed around the room, “Please…it’ll put my mind to rest,” Thorin felt his shoulders sink a little, but, one last moment of weakness wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Thorin smiled a sad smile at his nephew before turning back to the girls. He made his way forward, picking his way over candles and cards to the closest body, which he knew was Cece before even looking. Bearing himself, he peered down, how long had it been since he had seen her? how long had it been since he had pictured her face? Cece lay peacefully, flowers intertwined in her locks of blonde, the candlelight flickering across healthy skin and plump red lips. She looked as if she were simply in a deep sleep, and yet, there was no air passing between her lips, no beat of her heart no hum of her voice. No signs of life.

Thorin stepped back from the table, again careful not to trip over curling candles. It was hard now, to look away, for a few seconds he didn’t even know if he could. He had spent nights and days wasted on an ocean of nostalgia, the good, the bad and all that fell between, and yet standing here in front of his friend, he observed how she hadn’t changed at all, not one bit. She still had her youthful glow, her features were as soft as always and it hurt to know the ferocity that used to lie between that perfect image of innocence. Thorin was paying such close attention to detail that he could even see a few beads of sweat dancing their way down her forehead.

Thorin stumbled backwards, crushing a handful of gifts as he did so, his footsteps now loud as they echoed throughout the baron room. Cece hadn’t changed a bit in 29 days. Now, Thorin was no medical expert but he was aware from his past experience with dead bodies, that by now, rigour mortis should have kicked in, the body should have changed colour, blistering should have occurred, and a whole other load of quite disgusting traits. Not only Cece, but Frankie and Rosie also were in the prime of their health (well, if you ignore the bump on Cece’s head, the cuts and bruises that pitter-pattered across Frankie and Rosie’s wound).

“Thorin what is it?” Fili spoke from a distance away, arms folded, his featured doused in curiosity. Thorin tore his eyes away from the three bodies and gaped at his nephews with wild eyes, could this truly be happening? “Thorin,” Fili prompted again.

“Get Oin, now,”

The entire company stood at the side, breaths being held as no one said a word waiting for Oin to give a final statement. Only a few minutes ago Fili had rushed outside the room, his footsteps echoing further and further away as Kili sunk back down to the floor slowly rocking himself backwards and forwards. Fili managed to get a hold of Oin and, once he discussed the matter in hushed tones, the entire company, minus Gandalf, had made their way to the room, sprinting as quietly as they could.

They soon poured into the room, frantically asking questions as they glared at the line of Durin. And soon, before they knew it, the area was being cleared of all gifts and Oin was setting up to work, taking a medical check-up of all the girls.

“Is it even healthy to think there’s a possibility that they’re…” Dwalin trailed off in a hushed tone as he spoke to Thorin, the pair was standing to the side, their eyes fixed on one point. Thorin glanced at where Oin’s hand was currently on top of Rosie’s rib cage, searching for any breath, Thorin couldn’t see any movement but his hope was not tainted.

“One last moment of weakness,” He muttered under his breath, not sure if Dwalin even heard him. They stayed like that for a while, the company in silence as Oin worked his magic. But, eventually, Oin packed up his medical equipment with shaky hands and approached the group.

“They're a bit bruised n' battered,” Oin stared straight at Thorin as he said this, but his mind was somewhere else, something rushing around his head as he thought frantically. “But…” Oin trailed off.

“But,” Thorin said softly, trying to calm his quivering voice. Oin smoothly came back to reality, his eyes focusing gently on Thorin, his bottom lip quivering.

“They’re breathing,”

  1 hour later

The room had turned into complete and utter chaos. The entire area had been cleared as high tech medical equipment was rolled into the room, trolley after trolley of sharp metal tools, basins of water and a variety of herbs and essences. Gandalf had been notified of the occurrences and he had rushed down with Lord Elrond and a handful of elves who were the most experienced in medics. The girls now had pillows under their heads and blankets under their bodies, as they were slipped out of their armour, so their breathing could be monitored.

Thorin had turned numb. Everything around him had this magical aura that made his brain ache and eyes burn, nothing looked real anymore. His vision had sunk somewhere back into his skull as everything now had a wishy-washy border and his stomach was constantly churning, turning over and over and over. He had resided onto the steps as talk was happening all around him, people moving, medics calling out numbers that would be noted down on sheets of paper. The world was spinning violently all around him and, yet he could only sit and stare, not able to even begin a train of thought for what he was feeling. Suddenly he was pulled from his dreamy state.

“Thorin,” Came the voice of Elrond, Thorin stood in respect of the wise elf, he’d come a long way, “I have had some of my best medicals reviewing the situation, and they have concluded that yes, the three girls are alive,” Air was quickly sucked through Thorin’s teeth, Elrond, although grimacing continued, “They believe that Rosie, Frankie and Cece are in coma-like states…I guess it’s safe to say that we’ve never seen this happen before, we don’t know what’s going on, but then again that’s always been the case with those three. Right now, we can only hope to learn more when they awake,”

“They’re going to wake up?” Thorin asked, Elrond’s voice was cutting right through the blurry noise around them, searing right into the core of Thorin’s brain.

“Yes Thorin,” Elrond paused as if not sure whether to share this information, “They’re waking up right now,”

Thorin was currently stationed at the end of Rosie’s ‘bed’. She was just like he remembered, the only differences were those that the doctors and nurses had inflicted upon her. Her hair had been cropped a few inches shorter, it now sat around her neck and framed her face a little better, there was a reason for this, something medical, something Thorin had forgotten as soon as the nurse had told him. Her shirt was pulled up to her ribcage to reveal her entire stomach bandaged thickly, her gash turning out to be not as severe as it looked.

To say that Thorin was scared was an understatement. Well, to say that Thorin was feeling anything was an understatement. It felt as though he was sensing everything at once, like all the emotion that had slowly been rung out of him over the past few weeks had sprung up on him all at once. He was watching numbly as an elf wiped away some of the sweat on her forehead with a clean cloth before grinding some herbs in a small wooden bowl.

He concentrated on how the elf’s hands methodically worked, a series of repeated movements. They had structure, organisation and repetition, three traits that had been missing from Thorin’s life in the past year. But then, the bowl was clattering out of the elf’s hands and onto the stone bench as she turned around frantically signalling for another elf doctor a few meters away.

This is where everything happened. People began rushing around like there was no tomorrow, an excited and confused hum began to grow in the room and more and more people began to crowd around Rosie. Thorin didn’t need a doctor to know what was going on. I’m not ready, was the first thought that came to his mind. God, he spent weeks grieving and mourning and he was sure he was going to spend many more, and now, in the space of a few hours, everything had changed.

“Thorin,” He was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar voice, turning he looked up to be greeted with Gandalf’s wise eyes, “Thorin, we’d like for your face to be the first she sees. Normally, we would ask Frankie or Cece but, well…” Thorin expressionlessly nodded in response. Remaining where he stood at the end of the bed as Rosie was propped a little higher on her pillows.

“We’ve got a pulse,” Someone said, but they were far, far away. Thorin felt the breath being knocked out of him as he realised that this was real, this was happening. The world around him came to a standstill, people stopped talking, people stopped doing, people stopped, and they stared. So Thorin scraped out his mind for the right thing to say, words to perfectly express that he was here, right by her and, that he was never leaving ever again. But of course, his mind simply came up blank. So, he settled for a name.

“Rosie,” The word felt weird in his mouth and the fact that he hadn’t said her name in 29 days settled in. Her face, her smile, her weird laugh and her witty words had consumed him these past few weeks, and yet her name had never passed past his lips.

“Rosie,” He said stronger now, something pleading in his voice, and yet she didn’t respond. God how he wished they were alone, if they were alone he wouldn’t feel this heavyweight the status ‘king’ had always come along with, but, he knew that this moment wasn’t just important for him. Rosie was not just his lover, she was so much more to so many more.

Slowly, and then all at once, Rosie’s eyes trembled under underneath her eyelashes before they fluttered open, delicate as a feather. The entire room held their breath as she took low, deep ones, filling the silence with the sound of life. Her baby blues were glossy, unfocused and tainted with confusion as she examined the ceiling above her. Thorin couldn’t take being so far away, he shuffled through the bodies of medics, his heart beating in his throat as he crouched down next to her, his weight causing her to flicker her eyes on him. Her eyes, those beautiful eyes were once more staring at him, but he saw no acknowledgement shining back at him.

“Rosie,” He didn’t know what else to say, he had no other words. The idea that she might not recognise him when she woke didn’t even cross his mind. Rosie simply furrowed her eyebrows slightly as she peeked down at where his hand was gripping on hers. She stared at it for a moment before closing her eyes, letting her head loll back onto the pillow, her eyebrows still intertwined

“Rosanna,” It was a final plea. A desperate note. An unforgiving moment. Rosie’s brows relaxed as her face became once more calm and emotionless, and for a few seconds, it felt as though Rosie hadn’t heard him and the tension in the room neared a breaking point. But then, there was a soft smile and,

“I thought I told you to never to call me that again,”

TAG LIST: @britney8793

An excerpt from the upcoming chapter of Second Chances:

Luthien had come this way once before, in waking. It had been foreboding then and then she had come in a form akin to that of the monster Thuringwethil. Then she had sought to deceive the monster that lurked in the darkness of this fortress of her people turned to ruin.

That monster, she had thought, was dead. But then so too had she expected Morgoth to be beyond the gates of Old Night for far longer than he had proven to be. She was not in her other form, she was in her own default shape, her tread one that was fearful. She looked to her right and felt utter fear. The image of Beren Erchamion crucified, metal twisted with small sharp spikes ripping into his skin.

To her left, there was the broken body of Finrod Felagund, dead eyes staring at her in judgment.

And then she saw *him* and her disguise that was had fallen then and she felt very, very small. Two eyes of brilliant golden fire, teeth white as the light of the Moon, and Malice that had cast her down with utter contempt as the creature laughed then and in a single bound had become a thing that was a wolf and a thing  of shadows, more fearsome in certain aspects than Carcharoth, and had it been otherwise with the fate of Huan it would have overcome him.

That had been her last sight, the creature *transforming* in a sudden spring and then darkness.

She saw the eyes again and then the monster cocked his head slightly.

I too shall return, little Mongrel. Death did not hold my master, and it would not hold me, and deny me the chance to give the mad god his brains once more. Give the daughter of Elrond my regards, for my master shall not be the only one to know what is that he knew.

In a flash she was awake in the dead of night, and where there were sounds here, sounds that were normal and the expected element of the dark hours in this place of desperation, there was silence. Even breathing seemed to stand still.

There was a shadow on the Moon, or before the Moon, and from the shadow golden eyes flared and then Mithrandir stood before them and raised his staff and spoke words of command not in the speech of the Eldar but in the oldest of all tongues, Valarin, that which in later years of Middle Earth was called Enochian.

In a flash of light and thunder and low laughter the shadow on the moon vanished, and the screams of nightmare broke out in the camp. The greater shadow stirred on his throne, and there was concern, fear, and what could have even passed for hope and sympathy in his eyes.

And then his smile turned with avid cruelty to a child who’d awoken screaming about ‘the bad man with the Ring’ and he began whispers that echoed in the winds, whispers that would call her to flee in seeming fear.

Hi there! You said you take requests. I'd be happy with an imagine about Elrond x reader drinking tea together (h/c). It could be a herbal tea or just something ordinary. Pretty please! Ofc if you feel like writing it. (If not it's ok too~)

Elrond x Platonic!Reader - Cozy

genre: hurt/comfort/fluff warnings: none, except for enough saccharine fluff to give you cavities for: @ramyun-monster reader pronouns: neutral/they/them

You would think that Imladris, of all places, would be conducive to a good night’s sleep. The air off the mountains is almost always cool and crisp, the roar of the Bruinen contributes pleasant white noise, the crickets sing in the rose gardens, and time itself seems to flow unhurried and unhindered. Still, tonight, you’re finding it difficult to relax. Your thoughts keep wheeling around in your head without any particular pattern, bringing up unpleasant memories and lambasting you with all the things you’re putting off: the little tasks that need doing, the appointments you have to keep. 

It’s pointless to keep lying in bed glaring at the ceiling (even if it is a really beautiful ceiling). Plus, you’re developing a headache. You peel back the blankets and drag yourself out of bed. The library sounds nice. You’ll head there and try and relax, and hopefully later you can try sleeping again. It isn’t terribly late yet. The moon is still low. You’ve got time.

As an afterthought, you grab your journal from the desk by the window. Maybe if you write down everything that’s bothering you, you can stop thinking about it. The floor is cold under your bare feet, and you slip into a pair of house-shoes before heading out of the guest room you’re staying in.

You take the stairs down to the first floor and find yourself in the library in no time at all. It’s empty this time of day save for the librarian --a dark-haired Noldorin elleth who you think (if you’re remembering correctly) is named Iûldis. She gives you a good-natured wave but doesn’t try to make conversation. You return her wave and head past the towering bookcases of ancient tomes and scrolls to a secluded corner that you’ve grown to love.

The library smells of ink and parchment and vaguely of petrichor sifting in from the open windows. You stop on your way to pick out a book to peruse. The corner you like is comprised of an intricately carved cedar desk and a ridiculously plush reading couch flanked with matching reading chairs. It’s the couch that you settle into tonight, placing the little book on the end table and curling up against the armrest to write. 

A pleasant half-hour goes by, but you’re still no sleepier than you began and only marginally less scattered. You set aside your journal in favor of the book. Outside, clouds obscure the moon and rain patters on the terrace. The air turns chilly with a new easterly wind. You shiver and tuck your legs up a bit tighter. That pesky headache still hasn’t gone away. The cold is giving you goosebumps but you’re reluctant to go back to your room just yet.

You catch a whiff of lavender and lemon balm just as someone sets a teacup on the table by your elbow. When you look up, you’re met with a soft smile, warm gray eyes, and an expression that hovers halfway between concern and humor. 

“Riveting reading?” Lord Elrond asks. He’s holding his own cup balanced on a tray in one hand and he has a book tucked under his arm. 

Before you can get up to give him a bow he puts a hand out to stop you. 

You hurry to say: “I didn’t hear you come over, my lord. I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” He has a thick blanket slung over his arm, and he holds it out to you. “It is a bit cold for you tonight, is it not?” 

You blink and take it, wrapping it around your shoulders and snuggling into it. It’s fluffy and pleasantly heavy, just the right thickness. “A little, yes. Thank you.”

He inclines his head with a little smile and gestures with his teacup to the reading chair next to the couch. “May I join you?”

The first dumb thought that accosts your tired brain is why? Thankfully, you stop yourself before blurting it out loud. He probably has a million things to do so you can’t imagine why he’s bringing you tea and blankets.

...And he’s still standing there, patiently waiting for your answer.

“It’s your house,” you say. You can’t keep the surprise out of your voice. 

“So it is. Still, I find it polite to ask before imposing myself on someone else’s reading.” 

“You’re not imposing,” you say at once. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of an imposition. If you’re honest, you’re absolutely delighted that he’s here asking to join you, offering tea. Ever since you came to Imladris and he offered for you to stay, you’ve admired him. But you’re practically a nobody, and definitely a nobody when compared to him, so you’ve never really worked up the courage to do more than say hello or a few jumbled sentences to him. This opportunity is way too good to pass up.

He sets his tray with its steaming cup of tea on the table between you and takes a seat in the reading chair, placing his book on his lap. There are two spoons on the tray and a few ginger biscuits on a pretty plate and a pot which, as he opens the lid, proves to be filled with honey.

“Would you like some in your tea?” 

You still can’t really believe this is happening. You nod.

He spoons a little bit of honey into your cup and lets you stir it in. Adds some to his own, and says warmly: “I always find that a little bit of lemon balm and lavender is the perfect cure for restless nights.” 

The two of you drink your tea and demolish the biscuits, listening to the rain make music on the roof. He asks you some questions about yourself and where you’re from and seems genuinely interested in your answers, so you’re happy to give them, and he even answers some questions about himself that you’ve been dying to ask him for ages. The time passes by, the rain lets up, and you finish your cup of tea. Before you know it, you’re getting tired. You’ve forgotten all about everything that was bothering you earlier and your headache is completely gone. 

He bids you goodnight with a knowing smile and you go back to your room with that heavy wool blanket wrapped around you like a cloak --and you don’t find it at all difficult to get to sleep.