#like Denethor is all he had left. and Denethor cannot stand him. Denethor wishes he was dead. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ebaeschnbliah · 1 year

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What would Frodo choose to do? Why was he hesitating?

`He is debating which course is the most desperate, I think,' said Aragorn. 'And well he may. It is now more hopeless than ever for the Company to go east, since we have been tracked by Gollum, and must fear that the secret of our journey is already betrayed. But Minas Tirith is no nearer to the Fire and the destruction of the Burden.

`We may remain there for a while and make a brave stand; but the Lord Denethor and all his men cannot hope to do what even Elrond said was beyond his power: either to keep the Burden secret. or to hold off the full might of the Enemy when he comes to take it. Which way would any of us choose in Frodo's place? I do not know. Now indeed we miss Gandalf most.'

'Grievous is our loss,' said Legolas. 'Yet we must needs make up our minds without his aid. Why cannot we decide, and so help Frodo? Let us call him back and then vote! I should vote for Minas Tirith.'

`And so should I,' said Gimli. 'We, of course, were only sent to help the Bearer along the road, to go no further than we wished; and none of us is under any oath or command to seek Mount Doom. Hard was my parting from Lothlórien. Yet I have come so far, and I say this: now we have reached the last choice, it is clear to me that I cannot leave Frodo. I would choose Minas Tirith, but if he does not, then I follow him.'

`And I too will go with him,' said Legolas. `It would be faithless now to say farewell.'

'It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him,' said Aragorn. 'But if he goes east, then all need not go with him; nor do I think that all should. That venture is desperate: as much so for eight as for three or two, or one alone. If you would let me choose, then I should appoint three companions: Sam, who could not bear it otherwise; and Gimli; and myself. Boromir will return to his own city, where his father and his people need him; and with him the others should go, or at least Meriadoc and Peregrin, if Legolas is not willing to leave us.'

`That won't do at all! ' cried Merry. 'We can't leave Frodo! Pippin and I always intended to go wherever he went, and we still do. But we did not realize what that would mean. It seemed different so far away, in the Shire or in Rivendell. It would be mad and cruel to let Frodo go to Mordor. Why can't we stop him?'

'We must stop him,' said Pippin. `And that is what he is worrying about, I am sure. He knows we shan't agree to his going east. And he doesn't like to ask anyone to go with him, poor old fellow. Imagine it: going off to Mordor alone! ' Pippin shuddered. 'But the dear silly old hobbit, he ought to know that he hasn't got to ask. He ought to know that if we can't stop him, we shan't leave him.'

'Begging your pardon,' said Sam. 'I don't think you understand my master at all. He isn't hesitating about which way to go. Of course not! What's the good of Minas Tirith anyway? To him, I mean, begging your pardon, Master Boromir,' he added, and turned. It was then that they discovered that Boromir, who at first had been sitting silent on the outside of the circle, was no longer there.

`Now where's he got to? ' cried Sam, looking worried. 'He's been a bit queer lately, to my mind. But anyway he's not in this business. He's off to his home, as he always said; and no blame to him. But Mr. Frodo, he knows he's got to find the Cracks of Doom, if he can. But he's afraid. Now it's come to the point, he's just plain terrified. That's what his trouble is. Of course he's had a bit of schooling, so to speak-we all have-since we left home, or he'd be so terrified he'd just fling the Ring in the River and bolt. But he's still too frightened to start. And he isn't worrying about us either: whether we'll go along with him or no. He knows we mean to. That's another thing that's bothering him. If he screws himself up to go, he'll want to go alone. Mark my words! We're going to have trouble when he comes back. For he'll screw himself up all right, as sure as his name's Baggins.'

'I believe you speak more wisely than any of us, Sam,' said Aragorn. `And what shall we do, if you prove right? '

'Stop him! Don't let him go! ' cried Pippin.

'I wonder? ' said Aragorn. `He is the Bearer, and the fate of the Burden is on him. I do not think that it is our part to drive him one way or the other. Nor do I think that we should succeed, if we tried. There are other powers at work far stronger.'

`Well, I wish Frodo would "screw himself up" and come back. and let us get it over,' said Pippin. `This waiting is horrible! Surely the time is up? '

`Yes,' said Aragorn. 'The hour is long passed. The morning is wearing away. We must call for him.'

At that moment Boromir reappeared. He came out from the trees and walked towards them without speaking. His face looked grim and sad. He paused as if counting those that were present, and then sat down aloof, with his eyes on the ground.

`Where have you been, Boromir? ' asked Aragorn. `Have you seen Frodo? '

Boromir hesitated for a second. `Yes, and no,' he answered slowly. `Yes: I found him some way up the hill, and I spoke to him. I urged him to come to Minas Tirith and not to go east. I grew angry and he left me. He vanished. I have never seen such a thing happen before. though I have heard of it in tales. He must have put the Ring on. I could not find him again. I thought he would return to you.'

'Is that all that you have to say? ' said Aragorn, looking hard and not too kindly at Boromir.

`Yes,' he answered. `I will say no more yet.'

`This is bad!' cried Sam, jumping up. `I don't know what this Man has been up to. Why should Mr. Frodo put the thing on? He didn't ought to have; and if he has, goodness knows what may have happened!'

'But he wouldn't keep it on`' said Merry. `Not when he had escaped the unwelcome visitor, like Bilbo used to.'

`But where did he go? Where is he? ' cried Pippin. 'He's been away ages now.'

`How long is it since you saw Frodo last, Boromir? ' asked Aragorn.

`Half an hour, maybe,' he answered. `Or it might be an hour. I have wandered for some time since. I do not know! I do not know! ' He put his head in his hands, and sat as if bowed with grief.

`An hour since he vanished! ' shouted Sam. `We must try and find him at once. Come on! '

`Wait a moment! ' cried Aragorn. `We must divide up into pairs, and arrange-here, hold on! Wait! '

It was no good. They took no notice of him. Sam had dashed off first. Merry and Pippin had followed, and were already disappearing westward into the trees by the shore, shouting: Frodo! Frodo! in their clear, high hobbit-voices. Legolas and Gimli were running. A sudden panic or madness seemed to have fallen on the Company.

`We shall all be scattered and lost,' groaned Aragorn. `Boromir! I do not know what part you have played in this mischief, but help now! Go after those two young hobbits, and guard them at the least, even if you cannot find Frodo. Come back to this spot, if you find him, or any traces of him. I shall return soon.'

Aragorn sprang swiftly away and went in pursuit of Sam. Just as he reached the little lawn among the rowans he overtook him, toiling uphill, panting and calling, Frodo!

`Come with me, Sam! ' he said. `None of us should be alone. There is mischief about. I feel it. I am going to the top, to the Seat of Amon Hen, to see what may be seen. And look! It is as my heart guessed, Frodo went this way. Follow me, and keep your eyes open! ' He sped up the path.

Sam did his best, but he could not keep up with Strider the Ranger, and soon fell behind. He had not gone far before Aragorn was out of sight ahead.

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Breaking of the Fellowship

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the breaking of the fellowship #jrr tolkien #anduin #nen hithoel #parth galen #amon hen #rauros #aragorn #legolas #gimli #merry #pippin #sam #boromir #movie pics #peter jackson

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strangeradventuresofp · 3 years

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second thoughts (legolas x reader)

The Fellowship of the Ring - Part 4

masterlist

warnings: mentions of death, smoking, straying from canon, secret spilled, SUUUPER long a/n lol sorry

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

a/n: hello my lovelies! its long overdue i know im so sorry! i kinda fell of the train for a while, but im back and super excited to present chapter 4 of second thoughts! thank you all for being so sweet and loving and understanding with me, i appreciate it so much! also in the meantime i hit 400 followers! incredible are you kidding me? i appreciate all 412 of you i love you with my all my heart and THANK YOU. if you would like to participate in my follower celebration you can see that here or look at the pinned post on my blog page. SO all the BORING stuff out of the way (im kidding) this chapter is completely made up, none of this is canon but it takes place while they are at Lothlorien. i thought it would be fun to add a chapter completely made up to develop some of the readers relationships ! i hope you enjoy this and thank you all so much for bearing with me!!<3

“Stay close, young hobbits.” Gimli spoke in a whisper once you were further into the woods. “They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell… And are never seen again.”

“But is there any truth to it?” You asked, unsure. These woods were happily familiar to you, you must have had good experiences here.

“I do not know, lass. But either way, here’s one dwarf she won’t ensnare so easily. I have eyes of a hawk and ears of a fox—” A gasp escaped your lips as you came face to face with many arrow heads in your direction.

“The dwarf breathes so loud; we could have shot him in the dark.” A – very attractive – elf emerged among the arrows. He eyes washed over you and your breath caught in your throat. He was strangely familiar, too.

Legolas had noticed the other elf’s eyes studying you and for some reason felt a surge of a strange feeling passing through his body. He did not like the way that he looked at you.

“Haldir of Lorien. We come here for help. We need your protection.” Aragorn spoke fluently. The elf cocked an eyebrow.

“Aragorn, these woods are perilous. We should go back.” Gimli suggested, sounding rather irritated.

“Quiet, Gimli.” Your words were soft, looking curiously at Haldir who returned the gaze.

“You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back.” His eyes turned to Frodo. “Come. She is waiting.” He turned, and you followed.

Soon after, you found yourselves in Lothlorien, stepping up a tall, spiralling staircase. It was strange, for a reason that you could not explain or even pinpoint. But the peculiar could not overwrite its beauty. The staircase brought you to a beautiful arched building, supported by the tree branches it was built upon. It was white and glowing, and your eyes were fixed upon it entirely. Another staircase lay in front of you, of which two elves were situated on top, a man and a woman. He guided her down the steps with his hand. She was beautiful. Her skin was pale and her hair a platinum gold0silver. Her skin was flawless, her body covered by a gorgeously detailed white frock.

“Nine there are here yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him.” The man questioned. The woman’s eyes fell over your frame and you met them. Her gaze was intense.

“He has fallen into shadow.” She did not stop looking at you and you breathed silently, nodding slightly. She turned to Aragorn, and then at the other members of the Fellowship. “The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all.” Her eyes wandered, fixing on Boromir whose forehead was smothered in beads of sweat and he avoided her look. You noticed, brows knitting together in confusion. Legolas had also noticed, though he said and did nothing. “Yet hope remains while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace.”

~~~

It did not take long for you to get settled in, nor anyone else. You were each given fresh clothes and an opportunity to bathe. When the nine of you regathered to settle for bed, you chuckled to see that Aragorn looked the same as he had before. Legolas gave her a smile and stood beside her. You swallowed, thinking that he looked rather charming in the detailed silver tunic that wrapped his built torso. It suited him. In his hands he held a silver jug and he let out a breath.

“A lament for Gandalf.” He said, softly. You gave him a small smile which he returned.

“What do they say about him?”

“I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near.” You squeezed Legolas’ hand comfortingly, sharing a smile with him. Merry nudged Pippin, pointing at the two of you.

“It’s only a matter of time, young Pippin.” He whispered, a grin on his face.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, but he was quickly shushed by the mischievous hobbits. Merry pointing yet again to you and Legolas.

“Do you think Y/N and Legolas will ever get together, Sam?” Sam shrugged to Pip’s question before they decided to continue preparing for bed. Meanwhile, Aragorn had made his way over to Boromir, who was sat in solitary with his head pointed towards the ground.

“Take some rest; these borders are well protected.”

“I will find no rest here.” Boromir declared. That caught your attention. You frowned, walking over to him, sitting beside him with a small smile ghosting over your lips. He let out a shaky breath. “I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, ‘even now, there is hope left’. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope.” Tears pooled in your eyes listening to him and you sighed silently, hugging his torso whilst he placed his arm around your shoulders.

“My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing. And our—our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored.” His lips tugged up gently at the edges. “Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?” It was not until that moment that you truly noticed how much you missed home. A few tears strayed from your eyes, racing down your face. You closed your eyes, leaning into Boromir’s side, sniffling quietly.

“I have seen the White City… Long ago.”

“One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call – the Lords of Gondor have returned.” He smiled, turning to you to wipe the tears from your face before you pulled him into a hug. What he had said had terrified you. The fall of Gondor. Your home. And would any be there to save it? Or would people rather see it perish? After all, Denethor was completely useless and never aided those in need, so why would any come to Gondor’s need?

You stood, wiping your face with a small sniffle. Sighing, you walked away from the others, ambling off to wherever you could be on your own for a while. You took a seat on a flat tree root in a secluded area, trying to process the information about Gondor. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you had not noticed the presence of another. As someone cleared their throat, you looked up, startled.

“Haldir. Forgive me I was—”

“Lost in your own mind?” He offered you a small smile.

“Exactly.” You chuckled. “It’s beautiful here, truly.” He stayed silent, taking a seat beside you. “It is strangely familiar to me.”

“Strange?” He questioned, tilting his head in confusion.

“Like I came here once in a dream.”

“Like a distant memory.”

“Exactly.” You smiled. Haldir watched you curiously, but with a knowing look spread across his face. As you turned to look at him, a realisation dawned upon you, and you found yourself repeating his words, “a distant memory…” He nodded once before standing, looking down at you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” And with that, he was gone.

~~~

You had not slept very much during the night; you hoped that the next few nights would be better for you. The morning came around fast though, and soon enough everyone was awake and breakfasting. Not being particularly hungry, you only had a small breakfast. If it were up to you, you would not have eaten at all, but you did not want Sam to worry. Pippin and Merry were clamouring persistently to Boromir about how they wanted to practice. You watched them for a while, giggling at their stupidity before Aragorn sat beside you.

“Where did you wander off to last night?”

“I just wanted to be alone. A lot has happened in the last week; it all caught up to me.”

“You’re alright, Y/N.” He gently clapped you on the shoulder and you smiled at him, though tears gathered in your eyes.

“It is where I grew up, for the most part. I do not want to see it fall. And I’m afraid I won’t be able to help the way I want.” A stray tear fell down your face and Aragorn gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Forgive me, I do not wish to be so emotional.”

“It happens to the best of us, mellon nin.” He gave you a smile which you gladly returned. “There’s that beautiful smile.”

Legolas watched the two of you, his brows furrowed together, that strange feeling pulsing through him again. Aragorn’s right, he thought. Her smile is beautiful. His eyes were fixed on you while you spoke to Sam and Frodo, so focused that he did not realise Aragorn was now stood behind him, leaning into his ear.

“You’re staring, Legolas.” He whispered, the elf’s blonde hair moving from Aragorn’s breath.

“No. I am merely watching.” Legolas denied, earning a chuckle from Aragorn.

“Whatever you say, mellon.” Aragorn strode away, a grin plastered on his face. A gentle blush dusted over the elf’s cheeks, something rather noticeable that stood out from his pale complexion. He tore his eyes away from you, instead joining Boromir and Gimli to train the hobbits.

“My old gaffer might just faint if he ever saw a place like this. Got a thing for pretty places, he has. Makes sense, him being a gardener. He’d love it here.” Sam noticed your vacant expression while he spoke and frowned, gently touching your hand. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, I—I’m fine. Forgive me.” You gave him a smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“What about your parents, Y/N? What are they like?” Frodo asked.

“My parents died when I was very young. I don’t really remember them.” Their faces dropped immediately and opened their mouths to apologise but you chuckled, waving them off. “Don’t apologise; you did not know.”

A small smile ghosted over Frodo’s lips. “My parents died when I was young, too, in a boating accident.”

“I’m sorry, Frodo.” You offered your condolences while he shook his head.

“That’s alright; It was an accident.”

“You really are a pair of remarkable hobbits.”

~~~

You jolted awake with a breath tearing from your throat. Frantically, you scanned the area, your hand automatically reaching for your knives on your belt – only they were not there. It was at that moment that you remembered that you were still in the comforts of Lothlorien. Something compelled you to make sure that all of your companions were still beside you and you counted as you gazed around at them.

“Y/N?” A soft, calming voice called out to you amongst the darkness.

“Yes?” You responded quietly, shivering slightly.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” The voice asked. You sighed at that.

“Just a bad dream.” It was an awful dream. Much like Frodo’s if you were honest. You did not want to think about it too much; you feared you might get emotional. The figure that had the voice stood and held his hand out to you. You took it, standing, and he led you a little away from the rest of the Fellowship.

As it became lighter, you could see the face of whomever had spoken to you. If you were honest, you were so drained from the dream that you had not distinguished who the voice belonged to. But, as the space got brighter, you could just make out the perfect contours of the face, the small curve on the lips, the concerned blue eyes that studied your face, the long blonde hair that gracefully fell over the broad shoulders.

“You were struggling in your sleep. I was worried for you.” He admitted, his voice seeming to get softer by the minute.

“Did I wake you? Forgive me I—”

“Do not worry, mellon nin; you did not wake me.” A small smile fell over his lips before his eyes filled with concern once again. “What were you dreaming of?” Legolas noticed the way that you squirmed at his question and furrowed his brows in response.

“Nothing important; I will be fine. But I appreciate your concern, Legolas.”

“Y/N, do not lie to me; you have no talent for it.” You smiled sheepishly. “You need not tell me, but I saw the way that you tossed and turned and the look of terror on your face. You were mumbling, incoherently, but you sounded terrified.”

“Everything seems so real now. It has finally seemed to sink in that Gandalf is gone and… It reminded me of my parents.” You sat down, your back flush against a tree trunk. “In my dream, everyone met the same fate, Gandalf’s fate. I was alone again.” Tears began to form in your eyes, your lip started to quiver. Legolas frowned, kneeling beside you before he gently tugged your chest against his, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“Y/N, I will be with you for as long as you wish for me to be. You won’t ever be alone again.” He felt a terrible ache in his chest when you looked up at him, your arms still wrapped around his torso, your eyes puffy and a few wet streams leaking down your cheeks.

You gave him a weak smile, sniffling. “Do you promise?” He nodded. “Say it.”

“I promise.” He took a seat beside you after pulling away from the hug, a small distance between the two of you. After a long – yet comfortable – silence, you let out a sigh before moving closer to him, leaning into his body. You rested your head on his shoulder platonically, but Legolas could not escape the increasing beating of his heart when your leg touched his. He gently rested his head on top of yours, wondering what you were thinking about. Then, as if out of the blue – though it wasn’t really – you asked him a question.

“Have you ever been in love, Legolas? Have you ever loved someone so much to the point where it hurt?” Your voice faltered as you spoke, and the elf sighed silently. You could feel his breath shifting your hair.

“Once.”

“What was her name?”

“How did you know—”

“I can tell.” You looked up at him. “Your demeanour changed when I asked the question. Come, tell me about her.”

He did not know why, but he did. “Her name was Tauriel. She was the captain of the Elven guard of the Woodland Realm.”

“Was?” You questioned his use of the past. “What happened to her?”

“I do not know.” He let out a deep sigh and you frowned, wishing you had never asked for it was clearly a sensitive subject for him. “She did not believe herself worthy of me. Instead, she fell in love with a dwarf. Only, he died during a battle. I could not return to the Woodland Realm; my father gave me knowledge of Aragorn, and so I went to find him. I do not know what happened to her.”

“Forgive me, Legolas. I did not mean to upset you.” He shook his head at you, and you smiled, shifting a little closer to him to comfort him. He chuckled lightly as you wrapped your arms around him.

Back over by the others, Aragorn had awoken, but he did not move. Instead, he rolled over for he could hear familiar voices whispering behind him. As he turned, with a stealthy eye open, he watched you and Legolas sit together, a knowing smirk growing on his face.

~~~

The morning came quick, after you and Legolas had spoke about your lives all night and gotten a few quick hours of sleep before the others had awoken from their dreams. It was the last day that you would spend at Lothlorien, for you must all be getting a move on, and soon; the Ring would not take itself to Mount Doom. Since it was to be your last day in the comforts of the Lady of the Wood, she had asked to see all of you.

When the nine of you presented yourselves to her, she gifted each of you and Elven cloak, paired with a green brooch as a clasp. She named them the Leaves of Lorien. The Elven cloaks had been woven by Galadriel herself. They could not deflect a shaft or blade but instead, they could act as camouflage to unfriendly eyes. When you put it on, it was light and very agile. It was difficult to tell that you were even wearing a cloak. She explained that they would be warm or cool as needed. Then, she wished you all luck on your journey, and the nine of you quickly returned to the camp to begin packing for the day ahead; setting out early was important to travel as much as possible while it was still light.

Back at the camp, you all breakfasted. You made sure that the hobbits had taken enough before you started to pick at your own food. Aragorn wandered over to where you sat, perching himself beside you, a bowl in his hand, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“What are you so amused by?” You paused chewing to ask, swallowing the remainder of the food in your mouth afterwards. A chuckle escaped him, and he turned to look at you.

“What is going on between you and Legolas?” His questioned startled you. You coughed profusely, trying to rid of the piece of food that lodged in your throat.

“What do you mean?”

“I happened to wake up last night, and…”

“And, what? You were spying on us?” You quirked your eyebrow cheekily, the hint of a grin on your lips. Aragorn grinned.

“And,” he lowered his voice. “I saw the two of you sitting together.”

“So? Is sitting together such a crime, Aragorn?” You shared a laugh with him. “Since you are so curious, I’ll tell you. The truth is, I was upset, and he comforted me. Then we spoke about life.” Aragorn raised his eyebrows, unsure if you were telling the truth or not. You giggled. “Have I ever lied to you, Aragorn?”

“No, I suppose not. My mistake. Forgive me, I thought something more might have been going on.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but nothing more is going on. He is kind, but we are friends, that is all.” Aragorn nodded at your words, then left you to sit in peace while you ate. He kept a close eye on you from afar, watching until you were distracted by the hobbits and by Boromir until he made his way to Legolas.

“Y/N looks nice today, don’t you think, Legolas?”

“Do not think I’m unaware of what you’re doing, Aragorn.” Legolas said with a scowl. Aragorn chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright. Though, you do seem very fond of her.”

“What’s not to be fond of? She’s kind, funny, a good fighter, she takes care of the hobbits.” A pink blush dusted over his cheeks. “She’s beautiful…”

“Legolas.” The ranger smirked. “Mellon nin, are you falling for Y/N?”

“Lower your voice, Aragorn.” Legolas urged, the blush growing on his face. Legolas wouldn’t say he was falling for you. He thought you were pretty, very pretty, and he enjoyed your company, but that does not mean that he liked you like that. His heart raced when you were close to him, and even harder when you touched. He hated to see you upset, loved to see you smile and laugh, although he preferred to be the one to make you smile. But none of that meant that he was falling for you, did it? He didn’t think so.

But as his eyes fell over you now, he could not help but feel that maybe, just maybe, that Aragorn was right. He watched your lips part and turn up into a smile, a hearty laugh drawing from your throat at something that Merry had said. Aragorn did not miss the smile that grew on Legolas’ face whilst he watched you, a longing, loving look in his blue eyes. All the ranger could do was smile at the elf and chuckle to himself, before finishing his food and continuing to pack what will be needed for when the journey resumes at dawn. Until then, the nine of you decided that you would appreciate the comforts of Lothlorien once more.

Time seemed to pass very quickly, and as fast as the morning had come, the night came. You and Aragorn were still awake, sitting beside each other, sharing his pipe, giggling about old times. You let out a contented sigh and he opened his arm for you to shift into him. As you did so, he plucked the pipe from your fingers and stuck it between his lips. You chuckled at him before sighing again.

“What’s wrong, mellon nin?” He said, the pipe bobbing in his mouth as he spoke.

“I have yet to find out what this place means to me, and we are already leaving.”

Aragorn sighed. “Y/N, you were born here.” Your eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“Your mother and father lived in Lothlorien; that is why you recognise this place.”

“How do you know this?” You asked. You need not ask if Aragorn was telling the truth; he knew how much this meant to you.

“Haldir. He and your father were good friends. He wanted to tell you himself.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“He thought it would be better to come from a friend.” He offered you a smile and you smiled softly, relief lifting a huge weight from your shoulders. Returning the favour, you plucked the pipe from his lips and placed it between your own. “You’re not angry?”

You shook your head, blowing out some smoke. “Why would I be?” Aragorn shrugged and you chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. He gently pressed his head against yours and before you knew it, your eyes were fluttering closed and you were drifting off to a sound sleep.

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lesbiansforboromir · 4 years

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what is/are your favorite things(s) about Denethor's character? 👀

URGH what a question!!! ffsfshh This Ask is a good read to start off with but damn my favourite parts of Denethor? Is just like. The depth of him that comes across despite his relatively brief appearance.

I mean I personally for a basic start have a very dear fondness for sardonic wit. It’s always a staple of my humour and Denethor’s weary kind of bitten determined resignation to the situation he has been given is something I find DEEP joy in, it’s a favourite trope. This man is 90! Denethor’s been at war since he was 30! Denethor had a father who completely dismissed him in favour of a charismatic stranger. Boromir might have won back Osgiliath in recent memory but Denethor has been winning and re-winning that outpost back and forth for decades before him. Denethor lost the single dearest love of his life to this war. Denethor is having to send his sons to war without him for the past 20 years and YET?

Denethor’s DEFINING characteristic is his unwavering determination to protect his people. Despite everything the war has cost him, it’s not until he has lost the very last thing he’s living for that his resolution breaks. Somewhere in the book he’s called ‘Dauntless’ and it really does define him so well. The thing about Denethor is he really has no hope left, he hasn’t believed they will win this war for many years. But that touches on another theme that is a BIG favourite of mine which is ‘make them bleed for every inch, rage against the dying of the light’. It’s also seen in Boromir’s ‘Gondor wanes, but Gondor stands and even at the end of it’s strength, it is still very strong’ and then later in Denethor’s ‘In what is left, let all who fight the Enemy in their fashion be at one, and keep hope while they may, and after hope still the hardihood to die free.‘

There is just something so viscerally ahh.... POWERFUL about it, it gives me this push of energy, this surge of will and desire to do. I am very very invested in narratives about action and beauty despite hopeless circumstances.

And then it’s just like??? Not to be very basic but. This man is a stone cold badass lmao. People keep talking about him using the Palantir like it’s a really bad thing and he’s overestimated himself like. Lol. He’s been doing this for as long as he’s been the Steward. Like Denethor is a human man who has been dead-eyeing sauron on the DAILY for fifty!! years!! And Saruman too! Saruman tried to spy on him, tried to manipulate him and Denethor wasn’t even phased. Contending with Sauron might have aged him well beyond his years but Denethor still managed to wring vital information out of that stone and divide falsehood from fact for all that time. The fact that it took SO long for him to even waver is really more of a personal victory against Sauron and anyone has claimed since? Isildur?? The sheer power of Denethor’s bloody minded focus is enough to mind duel an evil angel. One has to stan just a little bit, come on.

And then and then!! I actually adore his book relationship with Faramir and Boromir. Like complex ADULT family dynamics that are difficult and painful but still with an underlying love? I live for that shit. I live for Faramir telling Denethor he’d rather die than compromise his morals and Denethor crying out in the desperate fear that instils in him but also instantly snapping that door shut and pushing forward into practicality because Faramir is CLOSED to him and Gandalf is RIGHT there and he simply cannot be vulnerable here. I live for Denethor saying ‘I wish Boromir had been at Henneth Annun rather than you because you no longer trust me’ and Faramir hearing ‘I wish you had died instead of Boromir’ and so retaliating with ‘it’s your fault Boromir is dead’ and Denethor painfully taking that blow with a snapped acceptance and Faramir being left at a loss. LIKE. ITS SOME REAL SHIT!

These men are tired! These men are in PAIN! These men are BAD at emotional intimacy! These men have the weight of the world literally on their shoulders and they may be making good tactical decisions for a war but they’re making the worst decisions for their personal relationships and it’s just!!! FFFF IT’S GOOD WRITING IT’S MEATY!!!

HE’S A GOOD CHARACTER, THIS IS NOT EVEN HALF OF IT

#denethor #faramir #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #chats #erran vs tolkien #ffffff I'M PUMPED #Anonymous

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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

Text

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into Middle-Earth with no recollection of the place except for bits and pieces. Lord Fabulous Elvenking has given you three days to find the portal from which you came, with the aide of his son Legolas, who you've taken to calling "Blue-Eyes." If you don't find the portal, you're to be taken back to the palace for a swift execution...

Chapter No.: Chapter 2

Key:

[Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I actually researched the languages using a website called elfdict,but I don’t know if the orcish is correct...

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

Starting at dawn every day, you, Legolas, and the troop of Elves searched repeatedly for the portal. You threw yourself off of the tree countless times. You laid in the spot for hours. At one point, the Elves had even used some kind of sheet made of leaves and their supernatural strength to fling you up like a trampoline to see if the portal was aboveground.

Nothing happened.

As the days wore on, you grew more and more bitter. Every move felt exhausting, and like there was no use: you couldn't get back to your family.

You couldn't live here. There seemed to be no point of your existence anymore.

Somewhere around sunset of the second day, Blue-Eyes noticed your sudden lack of enthusiasm. "May I ask what troubles you?"

You scoffed. "Why do you care? I'll be dead in about forty-eight hours anyway. What I feel doesn't matter."

"I beg to differ," Legolas took a seat beside you; you scooted a couple of inches away. "You are in our world now, so you will go to our gods for judgement when you die."

You frowned. You'd always been kinda an atheist. "The Valar?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes. The Valar. Your feelings before death will determine whether or not you'll be given a good place among them."

You rolled your eyes. "You're kidding, right? They'll judge me for being pissed off and upset 'cause I can't get back to my own world to see my family, then killed just for breathing on Lord Fabulous's precious trees? They can go fuck themselves."

His face was priceless. If you hadn't been so pissed, you might've laughed. "...Lord... Fabulous? And, while I have my doubts about your recent hand gesturing, I do know that what you just said is most likely vulgar. Have respect for the Valar."

You snorted. "First of all, fabulous means somebody who loves dressing in the best and most well-liked outfits of the time, while also being very uppity and acting like they're God's gift to humanity. Second of all, yeah, that is vulgar, and no I will not take it back. Third, how fucking dare you, sir, to tell me to respect some candy-ass bitches up in the sky who'll judge me for having feelings."

Legolas shook his head. "Alright, ass is a word we do have here, as is candy. I can get the gist of that meaning. I cannot force you to have respect for them, especially when they brought you here."

You glared at him. "Yeah, whatever. Just leave me alone."

Blue-Eyes sighed. "As you wish."

You turned away, scrunching up into yourself against the night chill.

On the edge of night...

All shall fade...

With a huff, you curled up where you were and tried to fall asleep.

A beautiful copper dragon sat before you on a mound of gold. "Do you think flattery will keep you alive?"

"N-no..." Said the silhouette of a very small person.

"No indeed," Confirmed the dragon. He began to prowl around. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, if I may ask?"

The dream flipped.

You stood between two Elves in silver robes, one of which was Blue-Eyes, looking sullen. "Tell me," Said the other Elf, "Where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him."

Legolas's crystal blue eyes glistened with tears, but he held them back. He'd never seemed like one to cry. "He was taken by both shadow and flame. A balrog of Morgoth."

The dream--no, vision-- changed again.

Before you was an old man in blue-gray robes with a long gray beard and pointed hat, smiling kindly up at what looked like a child. You couldn't turn your head to see. "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he ever early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

The visions flashed in your mind quickly now, too fast for you to discern much from them.

"Sauron's forces are massing in the east."

"This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance."

"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."

"I ain't droppin' no eaves, Mister Frodo!"

"I choose a mortal life."

"The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

"He is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the true King under the Mountain."

"You have the gift of foresight. What did you see?"

"Arwen..."

"What did you see?"

"I saw death. Your death."

"But there is also life. You saw my son."

"You have my sword."

"And my bow."

"And my axe!"

"If this is what the council decides, then Gondor will see it is done."

"Things that were... Things that are... And things that have not yet come to pass."

"Did he offer you a bargain?"

"Yes. I refused."

"A bargain was our only hope..."

"Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?"

"I am fire... I am...Death."

~ominous as fuck time skip~

You woke with a start, the dragon's words still echoing in your head. You knew over half of those names, deep in your mind... Sauron, Morgoth, balrog, Thorin, Frodo, Aragorn, Gandalf... You knew the voices, too. But you couldn't place any of them.

The Elves were already awake (With the sun as usual.), readying their breakfast of weeds.

You frowned. Why should you be concerned with why this place sounds familiar if you weren't going to be here much longer? You got up, and prepared to search for the portal-- you didn't want any breakfast, especially when it was nothing but dandelion fluff and sparkles.

"You are not breaking your fast?" Blue-Eyes asked you, and at first you thought he was using Elvish slang.

"You mean I'm not eating breakfast?"

"If that is how you say it in your world, yes."

You shrugged. "I'll be dead later anyway. What's the point?"

Legolas sighed. "To keep up your strength to find your way back. What if you arrive back on your world in the middle of the wilderness, like you did here? You will have no supplies, and I doubt you know much about foraging."

You huffed. "You know what? Screw off. I don't want anything to eat, and you can fucking deal with that."

He looked up in exasperation, probably praying to his Valar for you to stop being such a nuisance. "You use that word an awful lot."

"What word?"

"Fuck."

Then you almost busted out laughing, because a fancy pretty sparkly Elf, even if he was deadly, saying a modern cuss word was too funny.

He blinked. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

You snorted, crossing your arms. "Do you even know what the definition of that word is?"

"No." You gestured for him to come closer, then whispered the meaning into his ear. He sprang back wildly with wide eyes and a profoundly disgusted expression. "Dear Valar, I will never repeat a word you say again unless I am sure of what it means!" His eyes widened even further. "Wait... You just told the gods to perform impossible sexual acts on themselves! And the day before you told me to..." He stopped short, appalled.

"Yuh-huh. Just now gettin' that, goldie? For shame upon me." A thought struck you. "Wait, do Elves even have sex like humans? Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

He blushed a little. "Find the portal. Quickly." He awkwardly left, sparing you a quick glance like "wtf."

You grinned maliciously, then went back to your search.

By sundown, nothing was found. You stared down at the patch where you'd originally landed, wishing for all the world that you'd been born normal, with maybe a slight love for fantasy. Why? Why had you wished, for all of your life, that you'd been transported elsewhere? Now you were, but... You didn't have your family. Without them, you couldn't function right. You just couldn't imagine never seeing them again.

The Elves were already leaving, except for Blue-Eyes. He stood by your side for a minute, as if you were both staring at a grave. You might as well have been. "Bury me here, will you? Maybe my family will find my body. And kill me as non-messily as possible, please? Like, an arrow to the heart'll do."

Blue-Eyes stiffly patted your back. You went ramrod straight-- you'd always hated touch contact. "I will pray for you." He followed his comrades, who were already a good ways back to the river, spread out through the forest. You half considered running in the opposite direction, but you'd be dead before you even so much as got to the ridge where the first of the big dogs had attacked you.

You sighed, and forced yourself to move forward; you gasped as your ankle slipped into a rut, and you yanked it out, arms spread wide for balance. You gave the ground the dirtiest look you could muster, which quickly faded to stunned silence. You leaned down, and scraped more of the dried leaves away...

Your breath caught in your throat. "Blue-Eyes!"

Legolas was at your side in a moment. "Did you find it?"

"I don't know!" You stood and gestured to what you'd found. An inscription, in a language you couldn't read. "It was buried under the leaves."

"Can you read it?"

"Obviously not, dumbass. Is it Elvish?"

Blue-Eyes knelt, tilting his head slightly to read it. His hand grazed the writing. "It is a form of old Elvish, used in the time of Gondolin. This has been here for a very, very long time." He gave you a look. "Forgive me, I'd thought you'd written it at first." You thought about smacking him upside the head, but with everybody suddenly around you again and ready to attack, you thought better of it. Legolas turned back to the writing.

After an almost unspeakably long amount of time, you got impatient. "What's it say, dammit?!"

Legolas shook his head slowly. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. If we had seen this earlier..."

"What does it say, Legolas?!"

He stood, and looked you in the eyes, sympathetic. "'The way is shut. There is no going back. The way is shut, until next fiery moonlight.'"

Your face lit up. "R-really?! Then that means all we have to do is wait for a full moon, right?! That's usually what it is! Full moon at midnight for stuff like this, in all the books! Do you think Lord Fabulous could extend my sentence--"

"[Y/N]," It was the first time he'd used your name, and it made you freeze. "The night you arrived, the moon was full. But it was also a Firemoon. It means you cannot return to your world until the next Firemoon."

Your hopes slowly fell, but you were determined not to succumb to the panic that was quickly rising. "H-how much longer till the next one?"

Legolas put a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to understand.

"Firemoons only happen once every thousand years, [Y/N]." The words were like being hit by a semi going full speed on the highway-- sudden, fatal, and unbelievable. "You cannot go home."

Everything suddenly seemed far away, like you were seeing this from someone else's perspective. Everything went quiet, at least to you. The world seemed to spin. You dropped to your knees, and you were vaguely aware of Blue-Eyes saying, "I am sorry..."

You didn't know what to do. I can't go home... I can't go home...

I can't go home.

Your breaths came in panicked, short bursts. Even if it killed you, you took off running. Maybe if you ran for long enough, you'd wake up from this nightmare. Then you could pretend you were in some fantasy world with your family this time. You expected to be shot in the back, but you heard Blue-Eyes shout an order in Elvish, and instead, about three or four individual Elves followed you. You don't know how long you ran; tears streamed from your cheeks. Your lungs burned. Your legs felt like Jello. You collapsed at one point, and screamed, though you couldn't hear it. You screamed until your throat was raw. You were vaguely aware of a few Elves nearby, but you ignored them.

All shall...

In all the chaos, it wasn't long before you blacked out.

...Fade...

~emo time skip~

When you woke up, it was midmorning. Birds chirped endlessly on, the happiest goddamned creatures in the world. A couple of Elves talked quietly amongst themselves in hushed voices and in Elvish. You were laying on your back, and somebody had covered you up in a blanket. The smell of something good-- not that anything was, at this point--filled the air. It smelled like cinnamon and walnuts, like Christmas.

With a sigh, you cracked your swollen eyes open. Legolas sat cross-legged beside you, checking his bowstring and polishing the wood. He smiled half-heartedly at you. "You are awake."

Obviously. You didn't say anything. You didn't want to talk. Or think. Legolas sighed, placing his bow across his lap. "We must head for the palace. My father will wonder what is keeping us."

Yeah, gotta kill me as quick as possible... Death is better than this, anyway.

Legolas gave the order, and the Elves started to pack up. You laid monotone and still for the length of it, until Blue-Eyes gave you the signal to get up. Then you walked slowly behind them, every step a chore. You'd barely reached the river, and you were exhausted. And still, that damned song was going through your head...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

All shall fade...

You knew that your dream last night had been connected to this place, whatever it was. Did that mean this song was, too? You were half tempted to ask Blue-Eyes, but you decided you weren't worthy of talking to any of these fantastical fantasy beings, even if they were going to kill you in t-minus some hours.

The company suddenly halted. Blue-Eyes had a hand raised, and all the Elves's weapons had materialized in their hands. Blue-Eyes was quiet, listening...

An eerie howl cut through the trees, chilling you to your bones. Was that one of those big dogs that carried orcs? A horn followed the howl, and all the Elves strung their bows and readied their weapons. "Gundabad yrch!" Legolas proclaimed-- you were going to assume that yrch meant orcs. He went on to give a bunch of other orders, and the Elves took off running; if it were up to you, you'd've stopped running and let the dogs have you for dinner.

But apparently Legolas seen that, and grabbed your upper arm to drag you along beside him. Damn him... The rest of the Elves were suddenly ignoring Blue-Eyes's orders. Half of them went off into the trees in the direction of the horn and howl, and the other half formed a protective circle around him-- and you, coincidentally.

Blue-Eyes barked an order at them which they ignored, but all of you stopped short when you seen what awaited you on the far bank; the way back to the palace.

Six massive wargs, more wolflike than the ones from before, with orcs a hell of a lot uglier than the ones from before sitting atop their backs, with black bows and jagged, haphazard swords. In the direction the other Elves had gone, there was more howling. Shit. If you cared about your survival right now, you'd've been terrified. But you almost enjoyed the thought of death, if it hadn't been so gruesome.

Blue-Eyes scanned the bank. There were more orcs nearby, on foot, and several more wargs. One of the Elves moved faster than you could see, snatching a sleek gold horn on his hip and blowing hard before Legolas could stop him.

The Elf-- it was the one that'd found your hair dye repulsive the other day-- hardly got a note out before an arrow lodged itself in his throat. The note trailed off into a gurgle as blood sprayed from the wound. Droplets splattered onto you, and you recoiled; you'd never seen death. You'd been to a funeral once or twice, but never this. He fell backward, and the river swiftly carried his body away.

Legolas shouted an order, and the Elves readied themselves for battle. But there wouldn't be one just yet, despite the death of that Elf. The lead orc-- a nasty, pale gray orc with swollen eyes and a protruding mouth, tall and thick, his forehead covered in scars-- stepped off of his warg, which was bigger than the rest.

He came about halfway before stopping. "A truce?" One of the Elves asked-- Common was probably hard to speak for orcs, so they resorted to it to keep from being understood. It made sense.

Legolas didn't take his eyes off of the orc, but shook his head. "That is Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler. He would not make any truce with us, nor would any other orc. They are beyond reason, and think only of blood and death." Bolg... Azog... Now you really knew these names... But why?

"Albai," The orc snarled; his voice was deep. "Dorzog ajog lum trov!"

"Emme uva!" Legolas cried. "Sin nor yara ana Aran Thranduil!"

Thranduil... You knew that name. But the fact that they were conversing in orcish and Elvish was astounding. One must've came from the other, and you were just going to assume that it was the orcish that came from Elvish.

Bolg's already disgusting face scrunched up into a frown. "Vol lat diig!" The orc raised an arm; you recognized the movement as a signal to fire. The Elves scrambled around wildly yet gracefully to avoid the arrows, but you barely moved; an arrow got you right in the bare part of your upper arm, and another grazed your ear. Still, you didn't move, praying for one to hit you in the head or heart or something. You hardly felt the pain.

As the battle took place around you, you zoned out. You caught glimpses of a bloodied Elven corpse, or a dismembered orc, and of course, blood was everywhere. The river ran red. You just wished it would end...

A grunt nearby brought you out of your trance.

It was Blue-Eyes, being pinned down by a warg's paw on his chest, another on his left arm. He flipped the dagger in his good hand and stabbed it violently into the warg's shoulder. The beast howled in agony, but only pushed down harder; Legolas's eyes widened as he realized the knife was stuck. The warg snarled, and opened its jaws, savoring the taste of fear before it would bite down...

None of this is his fault. He shouldn't have to die.

The warg had dismissed you as unthreatening. One of the Elves lay dead on the rocks nearby, a longblade in her hand as she stared with unseeing eyes to the sky, mouth agape. You snatched the weapon from her already-stiffening grasp. It was heavy. But it was sharp as hell.

In two leaps, you'd reached the warg, which looked to you in confusion, then recognition, with a growl. You brought the sword down, slicing deep into the creature's face. It wailed in an echo of a voice, and released Legolas, pawing at the wound; Legolas whipped his bow out like an OP follower and shot that dog point blank.

You let go of the hilt, stunned. Blue-Eyes inclined his head. "You have my deepest thanks, [Y/N.]. You saved my life."

You just nodded in shock.

Legolas raced back into the battle, leaving you to your own. Another horn blew, this one like the one the Elf that'd been shot first had blown. A barrage of arrows flew from the trees, felling every orc and warg in seconds. Some grazed you, but none touched any of the surviving Elves.

A she-Elf in a dark green tunic, carrying a longbow, loped out of the woods with her comrades. She was beautiful, with red hair so long it went past her waist. "Legolas!" She cried, and he responded in Elvish; again, you couldn't understand what they were saying, and it was really starting to piss you off.

"[Y/N]," Blue-Eyes called to you, and you belatedly looked up. He and the ginger were approaching you sollemnly. "This is Tauriel, Captain of the Guard. She will take you back to the palace and explain what happened here." Ah... Death at last.

"Tauriel," Legolas turned to her; something shone in his eyes. You recognized his spark, but not hers, but the thought quickly left your head when you registered what he was saying. "Tell my father that they saved my life."

"What?" Tauriel looked impressed, and bowed her head to you. "You have my thanks, mellon."

"Perhaps he will spare them from execution in repayment," Legolas pointed out, and Tauriel made an 'o' face.

She bowed respectfully. "I will make sure of it, my prince."

Wut.

Oh, right. Blue-Eye's dad was Lord Fabulous, king of these Elves. Of course that'd make him a prince. Prince Legolas Gr... Of the Wood... Rea... The thought was like an echo. You couldn't catch it.

Legolas nodded to you, and Tauriel lead you away from the carnage of the river battlefield.

~time skip~

"Saving my son does not grant you my utmost favor," Lord Fabulous glared down at you like you were a nasty piece of gum he'd stepped on in flip-flops. "But it does warrant some form of reward. I am sure you wish for your execution to be cancelled?"

On autopilot, you nodded. You didn't want to die, but you didn't want to live. You just wished you'd never have existed in the first place, that way none of this would've happened.

Lord Fabulous Elvenking snorted, like he was hoping you'd just ask for cake before you were beheaded. "Of course. Take them to their cell."

Tauriel wasn't as rough as Legolas, or even any of the guards had been, but she still held you firmly. "Would you like a change of clothes? I could also arrange for a washbasin to be brought to you."

You just nodded. Couldn't you just dissipate? But, if it'd taken nineteen years for this wish to come true, then it'd take another nineteen years for you to disappear. You were an Elf now, so that should pass in one painful blink of an eye...

"I am sorry that you could not find the portal," Tauriel told you as she locked the door to your cell. "I will have the guards bring you something to eat at once."

You laid down on your cot, curled up, and closed your eyes. You heard the guard come and deliver the food, then leave quietly, but you still didn't move. You didn't move when Tauriel brought you clothes and a bucket of water and rags, you didn't move when Blue-Eyes came to thank you again, you didn't move when a rat came and took your cheese. You just laid there, staring and feeling dead on the inside.

You refused to eat or drink for the next few days. You slept, mostly. When you were awake, you were crying silently. You dreamed of your family. You grieved. Your muscles cramped from sleeping in one position for days. Your stomach felt like it was going to eat you alive. Your mouth was as dry as sandpaper. A hollow ache had settled in the core of your torso, between your heart and lungs; a pulsing orb of sadness, regret, and the wish to disappear. A couple of times, you passed out from hunger while laying down. But you were an Elf, so it'd be hard for you to starve.

You kept count of the days by the cycle of guards exchanging meals. Every tray held different things for different mealtimes: fruits and bread for breakfast, cheese and bread for lunch, and a thick vegetable soup for dinner. About nine days went by before anyone came to check on you, and by that point, you were hysterical on the inside. On the outside, you were catatonic.

And you reeked, because you hadn't had a shower in like, awhile.

After two battles.

So you weren't at your best.

"My guards tell me you refuse to sustain yourself." It was Blue-Eyes. "Do you realize how much of an offense that is to his majesty? He allows you to live, and yet you seek death out deliberately."

You said nothing. Hell, your eyes didn't even move. With a sigh, Blue-Eyes moved to your bedside. "Ah, I see you have also refused to bathe..." You didn't crack a smile. Even on the inside, you hardly felt a twinge of amusement. You felt... Empty.

Legolas surprised you by placing a hand on your cheek. "You miss them, don't you?"

Tears welled in your eyes. Dammit stop making me have feels. Ah, but feels you had, my friend, and you started bawling into your pillow. Legolas shushed you, and petted your head and told you it would be alright. You don't know how long you cried, but at one point, Legolas and Tauriel switched places, even though she clearly didn't want to and sucked at emotional talking.

When it was Legolas's turn again, you'd finally gotten to the nearly-finished state of hyperactive wheezing. "How long were you holding that in, I wonder?" You still didn't answer. He gave you a sympathetic smile. "You saved my life. Let me help you save yours. Get up. You will eat, even if I must force it down your throat, and once you're full, you'll bathe. After, I will take you for a tour of Mirkwood. You'll be living here, now... I suppose it's only right you learn how to navigate your homeland."

Finally, it clicked.

"Wh...What did you say...?" Your voice was hoarse from underuse and crying, but it still worked.

Legolas gave you a concerned look, like that much crying might've damaged your hearing. "I said I will take you for a tour of Mirkwood--"

You sat up; too fast, but you sat up. Your sugar dropped. But you had to know. "Mirkwood... Where is that?"

Legolas frowned. "East of the Misty Mountains, west of Erebor, home to the dwarves and the King Under the Mountain. North of Ithilien, Gondor, and northeast to Lothlorien, Ithilien, and Rohan."

Oh fuck.

"Wh-what is this place called? In general? Collectively? Like, the whole continent?"

Legolas seemed to finally realize that you were crazy. "Middle-Earth."

Oh hell.

"Holy shit..."

"What is it?"

You couldn't remember it clearly. Hell, you could hardly remember it at all. But what you did remember finally made sense. Tolkien's fantasy masterpiece that no one can surpass... The Hobbit... Lord of The Rings... The Fellowship... Smaug, Thorin, Bilbo... Aragorn, Arwen... Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel... Oh gods, Legolas! "I-I... The books... Oh, gods..."

"Mellon...?"

You promptly fell face-first off the bed before any half-assed explanation could be given to poor Golden Boy.

"[Y/N]?!"

...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

Mist and shadow...

Cloud and shade...

All shall fade...

All shall...

...Fade...

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor

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benjimirthursby · 4 years

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"Couriers and Recalls.” - The Book of Thursby.

*******

"When the seas become rough, gulls will fly inland seeking shelter, often many miles beyond the sight of water. It was a telling oman to my crew that the gulls were fleeing to high seas on an easterly wind as we put into port."

- Benjimir Thursby, The Analects.

The approach to the quay was quite. Little in the way of command was required as the crew was well versed in hoisting and taking in sail. Harlond was located south of Minas Tirith along the shore of the Anduin river. The approach required sailing into both wind and the flow of the river. Oars were manned to allow the vessel to turn back downriver, as to port with her bow facing downstream. The work was eased by the addition of the crew from her sister vessels which were lost during the sortie. The commander of the three vessels that set out months before joined Captain Benjimir on deck, looking out over the ruined city of Osgiliath to the north. Osgiliath was the last and chief defense against the ever festering Enemies to the east.

"To Port mister Bondermir and rack oars." Benjimir called out from the forecastle. The vessel began to make her turn to port, at last letting the wind and river work to her advantage.

Fishing and merchant vessels felt the first press of the enemy abroad before the first Orc had assailed Osgiliath. In years of escalating boldness, pirate fleets from Umbar, haven of the Faithless and their disciples, assailed ship and port alike. As with the guard of watch which the southern Kingdom of Gondor had maintained across the land, the boundaries of safe waters had rolled back to the shores of the coastal fiefdoms. The battle at sea was now some ten years in duration. What proper navy Gondor had once kept seaworthy was long since committed to the depths. The crews of the lost ships were scattered to what now passed for a fleet. Intense devotion and pride kept the fighting traditions alive among the mariners. They fought very differently as well as very different enemies than their countrymen ashore.

"Amidships, take-in sail and cast line." Benjimir called out. The fields of the Pelennor at harvestmath, white walls and gated levels of the fortress city of Gondor now rose above Benjimir.

The vessel putting into port this day had been among the first to put to sea and battle. Not war. No such declaration had been made against Umbar, nor even the pirates awash in Gondorian cargo and blood. Certainly no effort to provision Gondor with a navy were made. Such was the will of the Steward of Gondor. The strength of Gondor at sea came from Belfalas, Anafalas, and the fiefdoms to the south of Minas Tirith. That support had made it possible to hold a line in the water that kept the Enemy away from most of Gondor. Thus far, the distance from their home ports kept the threat from venturing further north than the Bay of Belfalas.

Past voyages had ended like this one. Others with with a measure of satisfaction. There were no longer cries to return to sea seeking to avenge losses nor any sense of shock at them. What held now was the most any at sea knew could be achieved. The Enemy had itself paid for what it took many fold. Yet no expectation of victory raised voices in song nor lifted spirits aboard ships such as Benjimir's. Only the desire to never permit defeat while any alive could put to sea.

"Drop anchor, linesmen stand too fore and aft. Mister Bondermir, prepare to hail our arrival." Benjimir ordered.

The quay had only a few small boats docked, none of size or lines of the approaching vessel. She was neither a ship of war nor a merchant vessel. Her hull was laid down within site of the castle of Dol Amoroth in Belfalas, built in a yard owned by Benjimir's own family. A main mast and smaller masts fore and aft could allow her to hoist more sail than merchant vessels or fishing boats. Her lines nearly suggested a ship of Umbar with sharp edges along the bow and castles fore and aft. Yet she road higher in the water than they did her decks sloped inward from the water line. She was fast as most any at sea, hard to board in combat and her crews came to feel it's name was both title and promise.

"Entulesse arriving!" Bondermir, the ship’s first officer cried out, ringing a bell mounted to the aft mast twice.

The linesmen threw ropes to the men waiting on the quay, one, dressed in a hauberk emblazoned with the White Tree crested with seven stars of Gondor was looking intently at the forecastle and the men there. He shouted up to Benjimir, “Ahoy aboard, is the ships master with you?”

“Aye,” Benjimir hailed back, “but master Gatewood of the Andustar is here too, he commands this mission.” Benjimir gestured to his commander.

“Verily, I come from the Citadel seeking the Entulesse and bearings dispatches. You are ordered henceforth to the Citadel with all possible haste Captain Thursby.” The courier called back.

“Have you no dispatches intended for the commander?” Benjimir asked, the Entulesse now squarely against the quay and being tied-off by the men ashore.

“Nay sir, but I should venture that the Lord will wish a report from commander Gatewood as well. I have mounts here at the stable waiting.” The courier answered, gesturing to the stable some ways from the ship. Benjimir nodded in acknowledgement and turned to commander Gatewood.

“Three months at sea, the loss of two ships, and we return to a courier asking for me and no obvious interest in speaking to you sir?” Benjimir posed to Gatewood who was still pondering the curious welcome himself.

“You have me at a loss mister Thursby.” with which Gatewood and Benjimir turn to walk to the quarters. Such a summons demanded immediate response and despite having to leave as soon as the gangway had been laid down, the Citadel demanded proper uniforms for whatever the visits purpose. “Mister Bondermir, see to the docking, we will be below.” Benjimir instructed and ducked through the passage entrance in the forecastle.

Some minutes later the gangplank was hoisted over the side of Entulesse and the master and commander strode down to the quay. Each now dressed in the black hauberk, crested with swan wings at the chest and white down the center. The mariners hauberk was little worn at sea and even less frequently seen ashore in these days. The wings recalled the ships that carried the faithful of Numenor to Middle-earth in a past age and were often associated with Befalas and the Prince Imrahill’s standard. The courier stiffened to attention as they approached, he led them to the stables where they mounted and began a swift ride to Minas Tirith.

As they rode commander Gatewood queried the courier as to the purpose of the summons. “Is the commodore not aware of the dispatch we sent when we entered the mouth of the Anduin? I cannot recall one of my captains being summoned in my stead.”

“I know word of your return was received m’lord, the couriers from the delta remain swift. All about Harlond know of the loss of Andustar and Rommena. There is a council underway at the Citadel. They likely as not will want you hear your report of your ships’ sortie. However I was only given orders to summon the captain as soon as he could debark his ship.” The courier explained.

“I have served my own stay in the Guard friend, I am sure you have some word as to the reason for my being urgently called on.” Benjimir asked. He had indeed begun his time in the service of Gondor as a guard in the Citadel. Several of his brothers had likewise served. The Guard was at once a common soldiers duty but considered high honor in Gondor. There was accordingly a pride among those who share such service and this was what Benjimir sought to cull information from the younger lad.

The courier glanced toward Benjimir as they rode. “A messenger from Belfalas arrived shortly before your vessel. What word he carried I do not know, but the Steward issued his summons for your shortly after. I would say it was that, not some notion of the Lord Denethor that brings you to the Citadel. More than that I do not know Captain.”

“Thank you.” Benjimir said sincerely.

The men continued their ride at a renewed pace, in silence save for giving passwords to challenges as they passed through each gate of the city. At the upper most level, their mounts were taken to the stables and the courier lead them to an anteroom adjacent to the hall of the King. A council of the cities commanding guards and actuaries was taking place. The Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor could be heard questioning several men. After nearly an hour of waiting a page took commander Gatewood to speak to the council. The gathering ended with the commander's report and he reappeared at the door to the anteroom seemingly relieved yet purplexed. Benjimir rose and moved to speak with him in the Hall. He had been in the Hall before, but the statues of the late Kings and throne set on high drew his eyes even as he spoke to Gatewood.

“Where away?” His eyes now seeing the Steward shielded by a variable wall of knights and attendants.

“They appear as uninterested in my report as their attention to my return suggested.” Gatewood said. “The only question of note was if you had survived and were in my company.” He continued.

Denethor’s eyes caught sight of Benjimir from across the hall. Then he gestured to him and asked dryly “Is this the one?” A knight at Denethor’s side nodded. The knight had a crest akin to Benjimir’s own, he was from Belfalas and in the service of the Prince. “Very well then, take and be gone with him. If his father thinks it wiser to secure commerce hither and yon over the shores of Gondor so be it.” Denethor said with crass disdain.

The council dispersed as the Steward turned and left by a passage to the rear of the Hall. The knight approached Benjimir and nodded respectfully. “Captain, you have been recalled to Belfalas at the request of your Father Tinafalas, by the grace of my lord and with leave of the Steward. You are to travel to Dol Amoroth and await the pleasure of Prince Imrahil.” The knight handed a scroll to Benjimir, affixed with the seal of his father.

“I am at the Prince’s service. I will depart at once.” And with that Benjimir bowed, turned and with commander Gatewood departed for the stables.

#lotro #lord of the rings #tolkien #landroval #ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxiv mateus #ff14 ffxiv #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv crystal

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tkwrtrilogy3 · 5 years

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Chapter V: The Coming of Time (Pt. I)

We made our way through narrow corridors to rooms filled with armor, shields, spears, and bows that King Thingol had stockpiled over many years for the occasion of war. The only sounds were the clashing of metal blended with the murmurs of armor-bearers hard at work. When they were finished, we took our weapons and began our return to the surface—our armor dragging against stone walls with an eerie lullaby.

We assembled in the empty hall that before had held such promise. I thought of Oropher. I wanted to look for him but my new wardrobe made it difficult. My view remained on the empty throne. Before long, King Thingol and Elmo appeared dressed similarly to us.

“You will follow us into Ossiriand,” King Thingol said flatly; his expression stoic. “I have it on good authority that our enemy looks to start with the least protected to force out the most in the attempt to destroy us all. This is no ordinary adversary we fight. This is an evil from whence time began. Its desire to extinguish life is only matched by its desire to rule over it. It will fight to the death and so must we. The future of this world depends on it.”

King Thingol and Elmo stepped down from their thrones and became one of us. When I was able to turn my head, I could see Galathil to my left.

“We will follow Father,” he whispered. “Galadhon will accompany our uncle.”

“Where are our sons,” I asked.

“They are to remain behind,” he answered. “To protect the borders.”

I could feel relief fall upon me. It was like a cool breeze flowing through my suit. If I did not return, at least my son had a chance to live as he would remain protected by the Girdle of Melian with his mother.

As we followed the king and his brother out of Menegroth, the faces of our families looked on from behind. I dared not look for Mîrwen. I wished the last I saw her would be her smile as our son married his beloved.

With Menegroth growing smaller in the distance, the familiar path we marched brought back the time we first entered Doriath after years the wilderness. Still, beneath the girdle, things were at peace—the world beyond had yet to bear witness to the peace we had known. It was changed and we had not for we chose to live our lives in relative secrecy. The evil around us seemed like myth yet we were told of its reality. We hoped it was legend—something that had passed away never to return. Now we were about to fact this nemesis we knew very little about.

We continued our journey to the borders. When we came to it, we stopped.

“Once we cross this boundary,” King Thingol began. “Only the stars hold our fate in their hands.”

Not a sound was heard—not a breath was taken. I felt the earth move beneath my feet only to realize I was walking with other elves into another land. Unremarkable was the world I once left behind yet the air was different. There was a distant stench I was not familiar with. Further away, we heard a rumbling. I noticed we were marching in the direction of both. The closer we came, the greater the sound and the stronger the smell.

With little warning, we came upon creatures so hideous and malodorous, I nearly fainted. Armor-clad with features that could only be called scaly but oleaginous. Their numbers seemed infinite in the light of the stars.

“Fire,” I heard Elmo say. Arrows flew past my head and pierced the flesh of a few of these monsters. It only served to anger them more. They broke ranks and came at us with such fury, I barely had time to draw my sword. I felled one—then another and another and another. Their evil was palpable and their numbers never-ending. I felt I was fighting for every year of my life. Out of exhaustion or perhaps a wound, I fell down amid the corpses of elves.

“Orothôn,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was in a dream. “Orothôn, are you with us?”

I opened my eyes. I was lying on top of a dead elf. His eyes stared into mine in anguish. I quickly jumped up in horror. I looked to see Galathil standing beside me.

“Are you alright,” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” I answered. I looked around to see elves and dwarves lying motionless. The carnage seemed to go the length of the Ered Luin.

“Where is Galadhon,” I asked. “Where is Elmo? Where is King Thingol?”

“Calm down,” Galathil said. “They live. I am afraid I cannot say the same for Denethor.”

I looked around trying to find his face among many. There were so many faces—each one staring into the void of death. Suddenly I remembered my friends.

“Where is Valdôr,” I asked. “Was he not with us?”

“He is gone, Orothôn,” another voice said. It was Êlengolas. “He fell not long after Denethor.”

I could not help but cry. I was overcome with grief. My visions had come to bear the bitter fruit of death I longed feared. Êlengolas and Galathil helped me navigate through the bodies and off the field of battle. In my grief, I hardly noticed Ónarr speaking with King Thingol nearby. I had again realized his people were among the dead and my grief worsened. I longed to be with Mîrwen and Oropher. I wondered if there was any home left to return to. Just as I began to drown myself in my thoughts, an elf approached me.

“You must stay strong, Orothôn,” he said. “Or else you will perish from your grief.”

I looked up to see Iarûr.

“You are here,” I said.

“I am,” he answered. “Not all is lost. For even in darkness light must shine. Rest, my friend. For soon we will return home.”

I smiled weakly as I leaned against the trunk of a tree and felt myself drift into a deep rest. I opened my eyes to the sound of metal against metal. Startled, I looked up to see soldiers picking up weapons from the ground.

“Did I startle you,” a young elf asked me.

“Yes, but I am fine,” I answered. “Carry on.”

He nodded and went on his way. When I rose to my feet, I saw that the creatures seem to retreat the field.

“They are orcs,” Êlengolas said as he approached from behind. “That is what Iarûr calls them.

“Where are they going,” I asked.

“I do not know nor do I care,” he said angrily. “They killed many of us. They left many a widow to grieve to make orphans. I suspect we have not seen the last of them.”

“Are we to leave for Doriath,” I asked.

“Yes, he said. “We were about to depart. I was sent to tell you. How is your arm?”

“My arm,” I asked. I look to see my arm was wrapped tightly from my elbow to my shoulder. For the first time, I felt the pain. “I was wounded by an orc?”

Êlengolas looked at me confused as he shook his head.

“Come on,” he said.

We made our way toward King Thingol and Elmo eating along with Galathil and Galadhon. King Thingol nodded at me and we began our return to Doriath.--TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 4-7-2019

Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.

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thatfairyfangirl · 5 years

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Written In The Stars Chapter 1

Outside Rivendale all Middle Earth laid silent, unaware of the growing threat in the west...all but those Elrond summoned. Yet those who were most surprised to hear from the elf lord were the royal family of the landless kingdom Mandalay. King Vorris, commonly known as King of the Road shielded his dark eyes from the sun as he stepped from his caravan wagon just outside the northern borders of Bree A small smile danced across his sun kissed lips as he watched his son beat against a drum as his daughter danced to the rhythm. How he loved his children, how could he condemn either of them to the quest presented before him? Moon and Star, the two most precious things in the world to him… “Steluta, Danior,” he called as the fair haired queen left his side to prepare a small caravan to escort one of her children on the journey to Rivendell. Both prince and princess left the dancing circle, pushing back their matching black hair from their matching chocolate eyes and tanned faces, the sun twinkling on the simple shallow crowns they wore, moon on the brother star on the sister as they headed their father's call.

“What is it father?” Steluta's voice rung out as she plucked a draping fabric from her dancing skirt to use to tie back her swirling only waterfall of hair.

“I have been summoned for something of the most dire importance.” The aging king explained. “Or a representative for me in my stead… the question is which of you I send into elflands.”

“What could be so important the tree dwellers call on us for?” Danior asked with a chuckle.

“He would not say.” Vorris answered in a solemn voice as he set a throwing dagger, the signature weapon of their people on the table they had surrounded. Without a second thought Steluta's slender hands snatched the blade with catlike grace.

“I will go...” She stated in a matter of fact tone before looking up to her father's worried eyes. She had heard so much about the beauty of the elflands, long had she yearned to see them. “Please?”

“You were always able to hold your tongue more than I anyway. I'd be likely to start a war between Mandalay and Elves.” Danior joked lightly as their father nodded in agreement that she would be the best option.

~ ~ ~

Steluta's eyes widened with see as she entered the gates of Rivendell, pushing back her thick raven curls from her eyes to take in the beautiful glory that sat before her. It was all she heard of and more. A splendid sight to behold indeed. “Excuse me?” She asked in the common tongue, making every effort to be polite to her hosts. “Where may I find Elrond?”

A thin elf with angular features and chestnut hair turned to her, eyeing the layered jewel toned skirts and corsetted blouse she adorned herself in. As she awaited an answer she stepped in to the elvin city further, the light of the sun reflecting off the silver and jewel that sat on her brow, making light dance on the white rose that sat in her hair. “Lord Elrond is in council discussing a matter of great urgency. Whatever business your people has with him will wait Delebdang.” He finally said with an arrogant tone. “Or better yet crawl back to your wagons and pester him not.”

“Oh, I am aware.” She answered, working hard to hold her tongue. “He had sent word to my father Vorris, but the nature of the meeting he would not say.” She paused taking in the distaste for her kind the elf held in his eyes. “Have I arrived too late?”

“Well that must make you Steluta, Mandalay's Star.” The old weathered voice of Gandalf interjected behind her. “No you are not late, but we must hurry.” His hand came lightly on her back as he gestured the way with his other. “Come, I will show you the way.”

She could feel eyes on her as all of the council took their seats, men and dwarf alike confused as to her reason for being here. But she was all too entranced by her surroundings to care about the way others looked on her. She was well aware Elrond had meant for King Vorris himself or her brother Danior to come, no other people would think to send a woman to such a meeting.

“Who is she?” Legolas asked one of his older woodland companions as he watched the fabrics she wore glitter in the sun.

“That is the princess of the road people.” He answered, seeing in her a strong resemblance to her father. “Be weary of her. Her people are known to be swindlers. Her family claims royalty with no kingdom to rule.” Her hair whipped across into her tanned face as she turned to narrow her eyes to the elf that dared insult her. Legolas's eyes widened just a bit at the wild fiery gaze. “And they have an ill temper.” He added as he watched her stare daggers into him. Mirkwood and The Roaming Kingdom having had sour dealings since the prince was just a babe, long before her birth. Now she could see the disrespect...the arrogance. Her kingdom may not have a fortress or lands of their own...but their spread was vast, it would have been wise for them to recognize the royal family of the roaming people for what they were.

“Greetings to the great Lord Elrond.” She said eloquently showing the Elvish Lord the respect he deserved in his home. “I regret to inform my brother nor father are able to join you, they instead have sent the most precious Star of Mandalay.” She explained.

“Times of great distress rarely come conveniently. Though I do hope you share the talents of your father I was hoping for.” He returned with a polite nod.

“I do great sir. But may I ask, what great distress is so terrible that you call on my people for aid?”

“A great danger that aims to threaten all peoples.” He gestured toward the council circle. “Come, all will be clear soon.”

Elrond explained the ring to all who sat.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Gimli grumbled as he rose swinging his axe only to be thrown back by the power of the impact.

“It cannot be destroyed by any weapon.” The Elf lord explained sternly before turning to the roaming princess. “Lady Star, your people bare the gift of foresight, are you able to look into the future of this ring?”

She stood, hesitating before placing her long slender fingers over the dull gold, refusing to touch it as she closed her eyes, face straining with pain as she felt the fires of Mt Doom engulfing her. “The ring is evil...its will is strong. It wishes to return to its master by any means. To take it from the lands of Middle Earth will only delay the destruction. But I see fire burning hot and bright in the pits of Mordor…” She pulled the hand away, cradling it against her chest , still able to feel the flames burning her flesh. “If we were to cast it into the fires of Mt Doom where the ring was made it will be undone.”

The bickering among all the representatives of the people of middle earth soon began. “You think we should trust a Delebfura woman to take the ring? That is madness!” One of the elves griped with a bitter tone.

Fire sat in her dark eyes eyes as she turned to him...at least she thought it was a him, to her they all looked vaguely feminine. “I did not leave my people to be insulted by a beardless weed eater!” She barked back at him.

“Your mere presence is an insult! Leave it to the swindlers to send a woman!”

“I may be woman I have more fighting spirit than any string pulling tree dweller!”

It was the small hobbit who ended the argument as he stood announcing that he would take the ring, but he would need help.

“You have my sword.”

“And my bow.” Her eyes narrowed toward the elf prince as she watched him rise.

Seeing the elf volunteer the dark princess was quick to stand as well, she wouldn't have Mirkwood show up her people. “And my blades.” She added as she stood, each hand coming to rest on a throwing dagger fixed to her hips.

Legolas looked her up and down, with such layers of free flowing skirts and fabrics wrapped around her for what looked like little more than fashion this was a statement he would have to see proven himself. “A woman doesn't belong in such a journey.” One of his companions protested.

“Actually I can not think of a better traveling companion for such a quest than one of the roaming kingdom. Her precognitive abilities may prove useful to you.” Steluta nodded, pleased with the wisdom of the elf lord as others stepped forward, volunteering their loyalty to the cause.

As the meeting came to a close Boromir smiled down to the princess. “So good to see you again little star.” He greeted with a friendly hug. It had been far too long since his eyes last laid of the fair princess known as The Star of Mandalay. “I was so worried my being called away would interfere with our annual meeting.”

With a light smile she embraced him. “You as well Boromir. My heart sings that our paths have crossed again.” She could swear he grew more ruggedly handsome every year...a far cry from the young son of Denethor she met so many years ago.

So many others looked to her as if she carried a curse, being born of the wanderers, but never him. No, he knew her worth, both in song and battle. “The journey will be a kind one with the princess of the roads on our side.” He added with a soft adoring stroke of her cheek, coaxing her smile to grow as she looked up to him, flattered.

#lotr #lord of the rings #legolas #legolas x oc #tolkien #fanfiction

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extendedtkwrtrilogyend · 6 years

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Chapter XXIV: (EXT) Call from Lothlórien (Pt. I)

“Coirë seemed delayed with the waning of hrívë. Darkness lingered far longer and the winds blew cold as ice. I knew it was morning, but clouds blanketed the skies tightly and not a ray of sun could break through. The halls of the palace were silent as I walked slowly toward my study.

“Ada,” Tarthôn said, startling me as he stepped from inside.

“Tarthôn,” I said. “You frightened me.”

“I apologize,” he said. “You are early. Where are Nenduîl and Tárimë? Did they stay with you last night?”

“No,” I said. “What are you saying to me?”

“Ëariâth and Aradúlin cannot find either of them or Aranduil anywhere. I thought he may have followed them into your chamber.”

Without a word, I walked toward the main gates as swiftly as I could. They opened the doors and walked outside as the blistering winds rushing across my face like the claw of a wild beast. I knew where I was headed but I did not know why. I cross the bridge—hearing the voices of Elendôr and Tarthôn behind me.

“Where are you going, Thranduil,” Elendôr asked. “Why would they come out at this hour?”

I stopped abruptly—standing before the grave of Súlelenth looking down at five small children.

Tárimë looked up—her face calm even as mine gave her stern look.

“Tárimë,” I began calmly. “Why are you here?”

“Because,” she said. “I wanted to show Eärluin where our mother was.”

“She is in there,” Auríel asked bewildered.

“Yes, Auríel” Aranduil said. “She is in there.”

“Sleeping,” Eärluin said.

“I do not understand,” Tarthôn said.

Elendôr picked up Auríel as I settled down before the others—four little innocent faces looking at me without fear of anything I might say to them.

“I know you meant well Tárimë,” I said softly. “But you should not venture outside alone so early. It is very dangerous.”

“But Eärluin wanted to know,” Nenduîl said.

Eärluin pointed to her mother’s tomb. I did not know what to do—I was beside myself in turmoil as I tried to understand what their little minds were going through.

“I understand,” I began. “But you should have come to me first, Nenduîl.”

I felt the presence of shadow above me. I looked up and saw three elves standing before me. I stood up and they bowed before me. They were dressed in blue cloaks—their hoods over their heads.

“Your Majesty,” one of them said. “We have come to you from Lothlórien.” As Tarthôn picked up Aranduil, Nenduîl and Tárimë hid behind me as I took Eärluin’s hand.

“Who has sent you,” I asked cautiously.

One of them stepped forward and removed his hood. His eyes were as the morning sky and his long hair near the color of mine.

“Lord Celeborn, Your Majesty,” he said. “I am Haldir. These are my brothers, Rúmil and Orophin.”

Rúmil and Orophin removed their hoods.

“You are king now,” Rúmil said. “It has been a long time.”

“Rúmil,” a voice behind them said. “Watch your tongue. You are in the presence of royalty.”

The three moved and another stepped forward.

“Celeborn,” I said. “This is a surprise.”

“Yes,” he said. “And not a pleasant one, I am afraid.”

“What is wrong,” I asked. “And where is Galadriel?”

“She is well,” he said. “Safe, I assure you. That is far less than I can say for the rest of us.”

“Come,” I said. “We shall speak inside. Your presence will alarm the forest and as you know Mirkwood has eyes and ears all around.”

“I know,” he said. “They seemed to have wandered as far as Lothlórien.”

Tarthôn motioned to Nenduîl and Tárimë as I picked up Eärluin as Celeborn walked with me to the palace with Haldir and his brothers close behind.

“Why are your Marchwardens so far from your borders,” I whispered.

“Borders give little comfort now, Thranduil,” he answered. “Evil seems to have found its way to the borders of Lothlórien. Orcs rose from Dol Guldur--though in far less numbers than before the Battle of Dale. They were seen not long after Legolas had come to us when we had taken notice. They bide their time to lay siege upon us and I fear it may be soon.”

I stopped right before the gates at sound of my son’s name.

“You have seen my son, Legolas,” I asked. “Was he well?”

“Quite well,” he answered. “He travels with Aragorn of course and another man. Boromir, son of Denethor steward of Gondor as with a dwarf named Gimli, son of Glóin from the House of Durin.”

“Do not forget the four halflings,” Haldir said. “Four Hobbits.”

“Yes, I remember,” Celeborn said smiling. “One of them is a relation to a friend of yours. Frodo Baggins, nephew of a certain Bilbo Baggins.”

We entered the gates as Ëariâth and Aradúlin approached us with Eldôr and Fëaluin. They bowed to Celeborn.

“Lord Celeborn,” Fëaluin said. “We have been expecting you.”

“We have,” I asked.

Everyone looked at me oddly.

“You were out of the palace, Thranduil,” Eldôr said. “You went looking for Nenduîl and Tárimë.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “And look who else I found?”

“Brilliant recovery, cousin,” Celeborn whispered.

“Thank you,” I whispered back.

“Come, children,” Ëariâth said. “It is time to eat.”

“I think we all should have something to eat before take on the worries of the world,” Fëaluin said.

“Ëariâth, take Eärluin to Êlúriel,” I said, handing her over. “She must be worried.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said.

As the children were led away, the rest of us made our way to the dining hall. All the way I thought of Legolas.

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

After breakfast, Fëaluin settled Celeborn and his escorts as I waited for Celeborn in my study.

“You are deep in thought,” Súriar said from across the room. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” I said softly. “I am awaiting Celeborn.”

“Celeborn, brother of Galathil,” he said. “Father wrote much of him. Do you require that I leave upon his arrival?”

“No, Súriar,” I answered. “What we discuss should be made record. Celeborn would agree with me.”

“Yes, I would,” I heard him say from behind.

I turned to see him and Eldôr and Elranduil alongside. He had made a change, dressed in a long silver coat of embroidered leaves of his kin. He took a seat by the balcony beside Eldôr as Elranduil leaned against one of the pillars nearby.

“It has been some time since I saw you last,” I said. “Things have changed, but I am quite sure you know of it.”

“Your household and your people have grown much since then,” Celeborn said. “Your father would be proud of you.”

“Yes, much has changed since Eryn Galen became known as Mirkwood,” I said.

“How is it that my kingdom and my people were punished for an evil over which we had no control?"

“It was not your kingdom we were concerned about, Thranduil,” he began. “It was to warn those in Arda that may attempt to traverse through the Rhovanion and meet with dire consequence.”

“And should one meet with me, they would come before the Elvenking,” I growled quietly.

“The evil that rose in Dol Guldur was palpable.”

“My father died fighting that evil,” I said angrily. “You were not there when I saw that evil with my own eyes at Dagorlad. I lost my name and my kingdom for that evil—as if we brought that evil into this world. Our people have been forced to live in darkness of that evil while our kin in the west condemned us for that evil only to be asked to sacrifice my son and heir to that evil.”

Celeborn stood up and walked over to me.

“I understand your anger, Thranduil,” he said softly. “I cannot undo what has been done."

"There is no name that will keep those who wish to cross into our borders away if determined,” I said. "Thorin Oakenshield found his way to Erebor and lost his life fighting against the evil no name could contain.”

“That evil remains palpable,” Eldôr said. “We know that what comes from Dol Guldur has its roots in Mordor.”

“Where it has returned,” Celeborn answered. “Where the Fellowship goes to destroy the ring that keeps us all beneath this shadow.”

“Yes,” I said. “Elrond sent word throughout Arda for the bravest out from every kingdom. My son is on his way to Mordor to rid this world of an evil the Alliance failed to bring down at Dagorlad and unite the kingdom of Gondor as Aragorn is its rightful king."

“The evil that took Thorin and his father still flows from Dol Guldur,” Celeborn said. “Between there and Mordor lies Angrenost where Curunír has taken arms against his calling.”

“I am well aware of this,” I said.

“Lothlórien will be their next conquest,” he said sternly.

“Why would the orcs take the chance to cross from Dol Guldur to the borders of Lothlórien,” Elranduil asked. “There are Beorings on our western borders not to mention our Marchwardens.”

“Not anymore,” Eldôr said. “The Beorings’ numbers are sparse at best. It is rumored some have ventured as far as Rohan.”

“Power,” I began. “Sauron will use anyone or anything as a means to gain power over Arda for his master. The danger he presents to us is his relentless pursuit for power. His minions will do his bidding. They will give their life for something they will never have for someone that will never give it to them.”

“If it is not defeated,” Celeborn began. “Only then will th whole of Arda will fall into shadow and it will be unstoppable. Put aside your anger with me, Thranduil. If only to unite with Lothlórien to protect our borders. You know if they lay siege upon us, there is nothing that will keep them from doing the same to you.”

I stood looking at Celeborn for a moment. I knew he was right and he knew that I knew.

“Very well, Celeborn,” I said. “You have my word. Elranduil, send for Aramoth and Randúmîr. Who covers your East?”

“Haldir,” Celeborn said.

“I shall send for Sildôr,” Eldor said, rising to follow Elranduil away. “He has given Arawë charge of our western defenses.”

I nodded and they left.

“He will serve you well,” Súriar said, bowing to us. “Arawë is my daughter’s son. If I may, Your Majesty, I wish to take my leave.” “Of course, Súriar,” I said softly.

“We can defeat this shadow, Thranduil,” Celeborn says.

“We have to defeat it,” I answered. “We have no choice but to defeat it.”

Celeborn nodded and took his leave from my study. It had not been long since I last saw battle and I knew this would be unlike anything I would see again. It was the defining hour for the entire world.

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

I decided some time in the gardens would do me well. From the balcony, I could see Nenduîl and Tárimë playing below. I thought of all the times I left for war—leaving someone behind at home or upon the field of battle as a decaying remnant.

“Ada,” I heard Tarthôn say. “Something troubles you.”

“It is nothing, Tarthôn,” I answered. “Nothing more than I always have.”

“It is war again,” he said. “This time, I will not stay home.”

“Then who shall take my place if I do not return? If Legolas does not return? You are my son as well.”

“I know,” he said. “And as such, it is my duty as your son and a prince of this realm to defend it with my life. I am ready and I am not afraid.”

Looking at him, he reminded me of Melros. He was the age his father was when he was lost at Dagorlad. I had been often more protective of him than of Legolas as my promise to his father lingered in my mind.

“You sound so much like Melros,” I said. “So valiant and brave. He knew so well he would have a son. ‘He will be a good son,’ he said to me. He was right. You are a very good son.”

He smiled and laughed.

“Fëaluin told me he would tease you mercilessly.”

“He is one to talk,” I said. “He did the same. He and his brother, Fínduin. Not without some cajoling from Elranduil, of course.”

“Stop lying to him, Thranduil,” Elranduil said approaching us. “I did no such thing. I will say it was fun to watch. Thranduil was the youngest and the smallest then.”

“You were no taller,” I said.

“True,” he said. “But I was far better looking. You can imagine awe in the court when someone agreed to marry him.”

“I thought Nana loved him,” Tarthôn said trying not laugh.

“She loves him very much, Tarthôn,” Elranduil said. “Someone had to eventually. He was very lucky.”

“That is the only truth you have spoken,” I said. “I was extraordinarily blessed.”

“Ëariâth wishes to speak with you,” he said to Tarthôn. “You will find her in the court with Ardúin.”

“Thank you,” Tarthôn said. “I will speak with you later, Ada.”

I nodded as he rushed away from us.

“He reminds me so much of Melros,” Elranduil said. “He sounds like him. If he were here, he would be burst with pride.”

“Yes, he would,” I said quietly. “Especially with Aranduil.”

“Am I to assume he has asked to go to battle,” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You cannot keep him from it,” Elranduil said. “He is a father as we are. His daughter has a son of her own. Stop blaming yourself for what happened to Melros.”

“I do not blame myself,” I said.

“Thranduil, aside from your father, your mother, my parents and your wife, I know you better than anyone.”

“I did not have a choice,” I said quietly.

“You would not change things for the world,” he said smiling. “As it is, Tarthôn wishes to ride alongside you as Ardôr and Orísil will ride beside me and Eldôr. He said as much to them after he learned Ardôr was allowing Elendôr to do so.”

I glared at him in disbelief. I could not believe what I heard.

“Should something happen to any of us, what then,” I loudly. “You wish to let the whole of our family fall to this evil?”

In the gardens below, I could see Nenduîl and Tárimë stopped playing at the sound of my voice and were looking at us.

“Thranduil, calm yourself,” Elranduil said. “Do you think I am not worried? Ardôr is my son. Elendôr is his son. If something happens to either of them, all I have is Êlenuil in Mithlond.”

“I beg your pardon,” I asked angrily. “Êlenuil is where?”

“Mithlond,” he whispered. “He sent word of his arrival. He has not sailed yet.”

I could feel my anger rising. I tried to stay composed.

“You have more than Êlenuil,” I said seething. “You have Nenduîl, Tárimë and Eärluin—his children that he left with me for Aman and you are telling me he is still in this world?”

“I just learned of it,” he answered. “Father told Ardôr and Ninyáre. Ardúin was with them. She said you should know of it, but Ardôr would have none of that. He thought you might get angry.”

I glared at him so long, his features faded into a distorted blur. When I could recognize him again, I was calmer but no less furious.

“Elranduil,” I began slowly. “Legolas is out there on a perilous journey to face the same evil that killed my father, my wife and my best friend. Tarthôn wishes to do the same, as it is his duty as my son and a prince of this realm. I could lose both of them! If something were to happen to me, Nenduîl, Tárimë and Eärluin would be left without me! Do you know they call me ‘Ada’?

“No.”

“They do because their father is not here and I am. Now you are telling me Êlenuil is in the Grey Havens at the very moment when this world could fall into darkness and his children with it. I am not angry, Elranduil. I am furious.”

“Are you alright, Ada,” I heard the sweetest little voice say. I turned to see Tárimë and her brother looking frightened. “Did we do something wrong?”

I picked her up and embraced her.

“No, Tárimë,” I said. “Neither one of you have done a thing. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Nenduîl took my hand. My mind was at rest and I felt myself again.

“I will speak with you later,” I said to Elranduil. “There is much to discuss before Celeborn returns to Lothlórien.”

I led Nenduîl and his sister toward their room. I decided to stay with them for the remainder of the afternoon, as I knew the evening would bring a burden I had to bear one last time.

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

It was nightfall when I made my way to my study to speak with Celeborn one last time before he would depart for Lothlórien. It would be the largest gathering to battle in centuries—since Oropher ruled Eryn Galen. As I entered my study, it was filled with members of my council and military commanders.

Celeborn, Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin waited patiently with Eldôr, Elranduil, Ardôr, Elendôr, Tarthôn, Nimlos, and Aruilos.

“Celeborn,” I said. “I trust you are well rested.”

He nodded with a smile.

Soon, Fëaluin entered with his sons Elenadar and Elenatar. Behind them came the whole my commanders: Sildúr, Elmîr, Árelë, Nînuir, Aramoth, Aramír, Sildôr, Findôl, Târuil, Tatháron, Aradin, Eldúir, Arawë, Aldáros and Randúmîr. Sildôr and Arawë stepped forward.

“I was told that Haldir of Lothlórien is Marchwarden of their eastern border,” Sildor said. “Arawë has seen many things.”

“Yes,” Haldir said as he approached him. “So he has told me. It seems Aiwendil spent a great deal of time wandering your western border but remained close to Rhosgobel until he wandered westward for a time. Long enough to allow Sauron to regain control of it.”

“When was this, Arawë,” I asked.

“I would not know, Your Majesty,” he said. “I had not yet been assigned further south than Emyn-nu-Fuin.”

“What control he gained was hardly enough to do much,” Sildôr said. “There has been far more done at Angrenost under Curunír. What lingers there are remnants of what once was. Nothing more.”

“Just enough to lay siege on the surrounding borders,” Celeborn said. “Their power is not what it was but it is enough.”

“Whatever is there will not venture east,” Árelë said softly. “I have seen nothing save a few forest creatures and an Easterling or two. Father believes their plans are definite.”

“I do,” Elmîr said. “They wish to move as far west as possible. To Rivendell if they can.”

“I hardly think they would try to get that far,” Orophin said.

“If they can put us down, they most surely can,” I said. “They know we would come to the aid of our kin.”

“Sauron relies on his stronger forces to the south,” Eldôr said. “They have far more adversaries there. He still thinks we are few in number since our loss at Dagorlad. But he is knows we can and will fight against him. The only way to know how many we are is to attack Lothlórien and how many come to its defense.”

“We can keep them well from Caras Galadhon,” Rúmil said sharply. “For how long, I cannot say.”

“They will come to us,” I said. “Of that I have little doubt. More than anyone, they wish to destroy us. We are far more dangerous to them than anyone.”

“Why is that,” Tarthôn asked.

“Sauron cannot control us,” I said. “We do not have a ring of power like Galadriel or Elrond—no matter how ineffective. Sauron fears what he cannot possess. The dwarves fared better than most. Men, I am afraid have a weakness for power. It is a gift to strong to resist when offered. For now, those with a ring remain safe unless, of course, Sauron finds the one ring before it is destroyed. Lost once the power to control the Elder Children, his vengeance will be taken and the whole of this world will suffer a great many things.”

An uneasy silence filled the air like mist after rain. I could not hear a breath taken or a heart beat. Everyone seemed lost in their thoughts. We all knew what was coming and knew this would be the final stand against this evil. Suddenly, the doors opened and the mood changed immediately as Êlúriel entered the room. I found delight watching everyone bow to her as she glided toward Celeborn.

“Lord Celeborn,” she said. “It is good to see you again no matter the circumstances. I must apologize for my absence at your arrival as my duties took me away in that moment.”

“Queen Êlúriel,” he said, bowing. “It is always a pleasure. There is no apology needed and hope our gathering has not disturbed you in any way.”

“On the contrary,” she answered. “For wherever there is a gathering of our kin, no matter what is spoken, it serves only to make me glad. Please, continue.”

“Tomorrow, take your leave to Lothlórien,” I said to Celeborn. “Sildôr, Aramoth, Arawë and Randúmîr will take you as far as the borders of Dol Guldur. Their guard will keep watch from there. As for the rest of us, we wait. For, as you know, they will come swiftly for us. Aradin, have our archers cover the guard from both sides of the river on either side of the palace gates. Findôl, Aramír, Árelë and Aldáros will cover the gates with Fëaluin, Elenadar and Elenatar.”

“I shall have my smiths set to task,” Tatháron said. He bowed and left quickly.

“As for the rest of us, we will fight against what comes,” I said.

“Lothlórien will meet Mirkwood at Dol Guldur,” Celeborn said. “We will end this.”

“I have no intention of doing anything other than ending this, Celeborn,” I answered.

He smiled, bowed to Êlúriel and left with Haldir, Rúmil, Orophin in tow. Eldôr and Fëaluin took their leave, motioning to the rest to follow.

“You will return to me again,” she said. “When that day comes, you will return to me.”

“Always,” I said.

I embraced her—my only thought was to protect my family and my people even if it meant losing my life.”––TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil (EXT. VER.) by J. Marie Miller 12-20-17

#tkwr trilogy #the kingdom of the woodland realm trilogy #the extended version of book ii #the saga of thranduil #thranduil #celeborn #haldir rumil orophin #lothlorien #mirkwood #the war of the ring #thranduil and eluriel #thranduil and elranduil #tolkien fan fiction #in honor of jrr tolkien #elves #elves of lothlorien #elves of mirkwood

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