#my gimleaf AUs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tathrin · 10 months

Text

Oh no help, why is my brain suddenly full of an RAF (or RFC) AU where Legolas is a pilot who gets the nickname “Greenleaf” because of how lightly and acrobatically he flies (and also he should probably be Irish or Scottish so the Brits can be derisive about his “more dangerous and less wise” people hmm? ooh or Indian! doesn’t really matter as long as he wears a lot of green so the nickname makes sense lmao) while Gimli was too short for the army but is a fucking amazing mechanic and basically single-handedly responsible for how amazing this unit’s planes are and how no matter how wrecked their planes are if they can get them back to base at all he can fix them, and Legolas fell in love basically the first time he saw Gimli work his miracles with that wrench and Gimli is not in love thank you, he is very very annoyed by this chipper pilot who keeps getting holes shot in his fucking wings and he definitely doesn’t like him at all and certainly doesn’t go out of his way to tinker with Legolas’s plane all the time and make sure it’s the absolute best machine in the air oh no nope definitely not dammit and he certainly doesn’t fret every time Legolas flies off into battle or comes back with his engine smoking again that fucker oh how Gimli loathes him! until one day he finally hops out of a just-barely-landed-successfully plane that is literally on fire Legolas what the fuck you idiot and oh and he stumbles what’s wrong oh no is he hurt oh no and Gimli runs over to help him up and instead they kiss right on the runway oh fuck—!

And the whole unit has been taking bets on this forever, so Commander Strider has to come break up the fistfight between Éowyn-who-definitely-isn’t-using-her-brother’s-ID-and-the-whole-unit-doesn’t-know-she’s-secretly-a-girl-NOPE and Boromir over who now owes whom money before Boromir’s little brother, the only one in the unit who hasn’t figured out that Éowyn is a girl yet, does something stupid trying to stop his brother fighting with “the fellow” he definitely doesn’t have a crush on Boromir please—!

Strider is so tired. He didn’t sign-up for herding idiots in love, he’s just trying to win the damn war, do you lads MIND???

Lord Mithrandir is sitting in his office watching the show from the window and laughing so hard, he fucking loves his deranged pilots so much. He has pulled so many blatant cover-ups for their hijinks, and everybody in high command knows that he’s tossing aside regulations left and right, but his units are the most successful pilots in the damn skies so nobody can do anything about it dammit. (He’s also definitely in cahoots with General Galadriel, who pulls his ass out of the fire every damn time somebody tries to bestow some kind of reprimand or punishment, and who gets regular “briefings” about his pilots that absolutely aren’t just gossip in disguise, and which she certainly doesn’t pass along to her granddaughter who’s engaged to Commander Strider, who definitely isn’t royalty in disguise, nope nope and also nope.)

423 notes · View notes

twicearoundthebend · 3 months

Text

a rapunzel!gigolas fic idea that has been bouncing around my brain for way too long

vaguely following some of the hobbit movies, fanfic tropes, and the loosest sense of a rapunzel plot. (general plot outline under the cut)

After the hobbit, Legolas comes home to a very cranky father. Thranduil is very displeased with his disregard for safety, his fraternizing with dwarves, and his generally mopey mood whenever a certain elf maiden is brought up. Overprotective crazy parent he is, he clearly has a perfect solution to all this.

Basically Legolas has been put in a 1000 year time out. Now a few centuries in, he’s very tired of being cooped up. In that time (aided by the magic of the probably ent filled forest) his hair has grown absurdly long.

Gimli comes waltzing through the woods and hears Legolas singing. He’s intrigued, and follows the sound. Initially put off by the weird elven face that greets him, he can’t help but be curious about the story behind it. So he returns day after day to hear songs/stories, make a few jabs at the amount of hair but lack of beard, and go on with his life.

He may be in a little over his head when he learns Legolas is held against his will and suddenly he’s jail breaking the crown prince from his time out corner.

Cue on the run montage (there was only one bed, anyone?) where they slowly fall in love with each other. This is where a bunch of the more Disney rapunzel moments happen, like dancing, boat ride, and river scene. (Haven’t decided if the hair is magical or not yet) Until finally Legolas realizes he just has to face his father, ask him to hear him out, and give him his freedom again.

Thrandy is Not happy with this idea, but gradually he warms to it as he sees how happy his son is, and the light Gimli brings to his eyes. Legolas is welcomed back to Mirkwood with Gimli, but the two decline to go travel the world, seeing all the things Legolas has missed the past few centuries.

#I have no idea why this is so Rooted in my brain rn but-#it’s got a Grip #maybe I’ll actually write it out at some point?#idk if it’s too far removed from the source lmao #gigolas #gimleaf #gimlas #rapunzel au #fic writing

14 notes · View notes

sallysavestheday · 18 days

Text

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks very much to @nocompromise-noregrets for the tag! This is always an interesting exercise and I haven't done it in a while.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 182, but a goodly subset of those are collections of very short works (drabbles, my beloveds!).

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 137,372. I average around 700 words per ficlet (counting those that are collections of drabbles). I have only two works over 2,000 words -- one at barely 2,100 and one at 5,600 by dint of TRSB last summer.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien only. Mostly Silmarillion but occasionally Lord of the Rings, as well.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? I'm splitting this by fandom because the older LoTR stuff has more kudos simply as a function of time.

For LoTR: Deep in the Ancient Forests of the World; Light a Little Fire in Me; I Do Not Grudge You the Game; Rash Words and Bitter Hopes; Sing, O Stone and Air. These are all Legolas/Gimli ficlets.

For Silm: When All Other Lights Go Out (the aforementioned TRSB Feanorian family drama); What We Make, Makes Us (Caranthir and Feanor); What Keeps Us Here (Celeborn and Thranduil); Still Plenty of Good in the World (Sam Gamgee fixes Feanor and Nerdanel); and It Is the Opinion of this Reviewer (Finrod critiques the research of his peers).

No method to the madness here, it seems. Some shippy, most not. Some angsty, some humorous, mostly canon compliant. Range of Silm characters. Interesting to see the variety, actually.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always. Usually within a few days. Comments are a great way to get to know other people in the fandom, and it's always a pleasure to see familiar names pop up. It's nice to know I have a bit of a following. But I also love seeing new people appear, and I welcome everything from a single emoji to a full blown rant. I reply to them all.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Only one? Impossible to choose. I love an angsty ending. Killing Fingon off is always a delight (like this, or this). Sending people off to their dooms (like this, or this) is another. Making them consider might-have-beens, too (like this, or this, or this).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I do also like happy endings! I write many happy post-canon returns, to tie up all the loose ends. Also happy moments within canon, but you usually have to pretend you don't know what comes next (blame the Professor, not me). For LoTR, These Our Braided Lives has a very happy Gimleaf ending. For Silm, try In These Altered States, Rejoice.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Spitting over my shoulder on this one, but no. Even the people who don't agree with my takes on particular characters have always been polite. Thank you, kind readers!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I don't write anything explicit. I'll read a wide variety but am more restrained in my writing. I've snuck a little bit into the mature range for a few things recently, but I prefer allusion and metaphor, really. It's the spirit of the intimacy that interests me, not so much the mechanics.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope. Canon compliant or canon adjacent always.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, I've had a few requests. My Thranduil seems to be quite popular in other languages.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't but would be happy to explore the possibility.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Can't pick just one. Legolas/Gimli, Glorfindel/Ecthelion, Maedhros/Fingon, Finrod/Edrahil. The much rarer Egalmoth/Rog. And I'm pleased to have originated the tag for Amrod/Aredhel. Spitfire fans, get on that! (thanks to chestnut_pod for the horrible, wonderful ship name)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Not a WIP, even, just an idea that I've mentioned before: an AU in which Fingon, returning from Thangorodrim with Maedhros, can't hold onto him, and he falls from the eagle's back into Lake Mithrim. I won't write it, but I sure hope someone else will.

16. What are your writing strengths? Brevity, ha! Condensing a great deal of emotional development into very few words. Figurative language. Ripping your heart out and stomping on it, tidily.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. I don't write much of it, and it takes a long time to get it right.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm not likely to do so. I don't like the way it interrupts the flow. I'd rather indicate the language that is being spoken than try to craft compelling dialogue in it. This is especially fraught in the Tolkien fandoms, where the linguists WILL come for you if you get it wrong, lol!

19. First fandom you wrote for? LoTR. I've only been doing this for a couple of years.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Impossible to choose! But my comfort series is The Flower and the Fountain: 16,000 words of Glorfindel and Ecthelion in 32 vignettes. I love those guys.

Thank you so much for the tag! @polutrope @eilinelsghost @melestasflight @tathrin @thelordofgifs @zealouswerewolfcollector, what about you? And anyone else who'd like to share, hop in!

#asks and answers #my fics #fic recs #tolkien fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

putssomethingwittyhere · 1 year

Text

gigolas/gimleaf fic idea: pride and prejudice AU since i just watched it for the hundredth time:

gimli as Elizabeth (since he’s got a big family), kili as jane, legolas as mr darcy, tauriel as me bingly, and probably an oc for mr whickham... uh perhaps the Bennett’s spread across multiple houses close by? like kili and fili would obviously be in Thorin’s house, and gimli with a sister maybe in Gloin’s... Mr Collins maybe Ori since they both seem shy and very well educated?

legolas would probably keep kili and tauriel apart based on the fact that his father (a surrogate father but not really figure to tauriel) would never allow it and is trying to save them both the heartbreak? also thinks tauriel deserves someone of higher standing to provide for her... obviously he’s wrong but he’s got ok intentions. the oc dwarf for mr whickham probably got publically embarrassed by legolas during a duel or something. and the oc tells gimli that legolas cheated or kept attacking even when it was over?

and i like to think that thorin is the head of the entire family, and obviously legolas needs his permission to ask for gimli’s hand. i think this could be another side plot and involve a secret relationship type thing between gimleaf... also: DANCING. BALLS. Yes.

WAIT ALSO Thorin would low-key be Mrs Bennet screaming about his nerves none stop 😭

god my brain is big tonight...

#legolas greenleaf #gimli son of gloin #legolas #gimli #gigolas #gimleaf #tauriel #kili #lord of the rings #the hobbit

19 notes · View notes

katajainen · 6 years

Text

Lovesick Blues (31901 words) by TAFKAB, Roselightfairy Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf, Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife, Glóin/Glóin's Wife Characters: Legolas Greenleaf, Gimli (Son of Glóin), Glóin (Tolkien), Thranduil (Tolkien), Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Illness, Angst, Whump, Crack, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates, mild AU, Fever Dreams, Panic Attacks, Explicit Sexual Content, Bondage, Healing Sex, Accidental unlikely reluctant hero Thranduil, Sisters who are sensible, Brosi is the butt monkey

Summary:

Dwarves do not always know when they have found their one mate—so if they separate without realizing it, their bodies have a quick-acting and unpleasant way of alerting them: the amral barzûlegûr, or lovesickness. No one knows what effect such an illness might have on another race—in all the known history of dwarves, such a thing has never happened before. Until now.

When Legolas and Gimli each fall inexplicably ill after parting to return to their homes, their families must find out what’s wrong—and must reunite them before it’s too late.

LOOK what I just found sitting in my inbox!!!

Initial reaction pt. 1: HYPERSQUEEFLAIL. Because soulmate AUs are my jam, and this pair of authors has the golden touch, so this gotta be good *chefkiss*

Initial reaction pt. 2 (about 10 seconds later): do I have the time to read this tonight? Don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. DEFINITELY is something I MUST read in one sitting. Engh. Choices. Choices.

Fuck it. Going to bed before midnight is something that happens to other people anyway.

#gigolas #gimlas #legogim #gimleaf #my fic recs #soulmate aus are my jam and i remember this one tumblr exchange #and i hoped it would bear fruit #and ta-da!#here it is #we have been blessed

21 notes · View notes

enbyhobbit · 3 years

Text

WRITING COMMISSIONS OPEN

Hi! My name is Peregrin and I'm a fic writer who very recently started to write in English.

I'm a non-binary person and I live in a very conservative/homophobic household, so I'm trying to find ways to be a little bit more financially independent. That being said, I'll be opening five commission slots for short one-shots (500 words). Since those are short stories and my writing style in English is still a work in progress, they're going to be really cheap!

PRICING

500 word - $5

If I write over 500 words, you won't be charged extra! (but tips are welcomed ❤)

Since my life it's a little bit chaotic right now, I prefer to take my payment only after I'm done with your commission. I usually take from three days to a week to write my works, so no need to worry.

All payments will be made through PayPal or Ko-Fi.

I will write

(Each pairing corresponds to a fandom I'm writing works for, they're not necessarily the only pairings I'm willing to write)

Pretty much anything from fluff to angst

Original works

Headcanons/AU

Anime prompts (ask me which fandons)

Mostly SamFrodo or GimLeaf, but open to other pairings

Mostly Dinluke, but open to other pairings

Mostly Geraskier, but open to other pairings

I will NOT write

NS*FW

R*pe or any kind of assault.

Here is my AO3, so you can read my other works

If you're interested (or you have any questions about any details), contact me!

Commission slots

1 - Closed

2 - Closed

3 - Open

4 - Open

5 - Open

Contacts:

Tumblr PM

Twitter - @enbyhobbit

Discord - justiceforpluto #4385

Email - [email protected]

23 notes · View notes

tathrin · 1 year

Text

Ahh, fuck. Just saw this post cross my dash and my brain absolutely vomited this fucking thing out in response and I do not have any idea what the FUCK to do with this weird unhinged Dark LotR AU that I just spontaneously generated. Help.

"Not like this."

The words slipped from Gimli's lips as a broken whisper, torn free from the very depths of his soul before his conscious wits could stop them. He swallowed, as though he would call them back to him; but there was no calling them back, any more than there was undoing the dreadful deeds that had led to Gimli standing here, in this place, feeling as though his heart were being ripped from his chest at the sight before him: a fair golden head bowed low, heavy shackles weighing down lithesome elvish limbs.

Gimli swallowed again, and held his tongue. The words still beat themselves against the inside of his skull: Not like this, not like this.

How was it they all now found themselves here? It had not seemed easy, so many months ago in Rivendell, when the Free Peoples of Middle-earth had taken desperate council together in hopes of defying Sauron, no; nothing of what they had set out to do had seemed easy. But still, to have fallen so far that they were here…

Gimli closed his eyes against the sharp and bitter sting of tears, but only for a moment. A moment was all he could allow himself. Any more than that would be seen, would be noted; would be marked down against him, against Erebor, as a weakness that they could not afford.

As treason, treason against the Dark Lord.

The Lonely Mountain could not afford such a thing, not if any dwarf was going to be left breathing beneath its strong stone walls by this time tomorrow.

So Gimli took a deep breath, and opened his eyes, and struggled to wipe the pain and horror from his face. He nodded, doing his best to ignore the hot bite of metal against his hand; doing his best to ignore the way his heart was shattering like untempered steel suddenly flash-frozen at the sight of Legolas kneeling as a captive before him.

"A fine tribute," Gimli said, hating himself for the words; hating himself even more for the dark twist of pleasure that threaded through his mind as he spoke. He clenched his fist tighter around the hard gold he held; it did not help. The row of kneeling elves before him did not move; the sharp blades of the axes hanging over their necks did not soften.

The Ring on his finger did not loose its deadly grip.

"Tell the Men of Dale that they have earned their people four months of triple rations in addition to the gold-price on the heads of these elves," Gimli continued. Such a paltry amount to pay, for elvish lives; yet it would keep the Men of Dale from starving, and would earn them favor in the Dark Lord's eyes. He saw the bedraggled Dalish representative straighten in gratitude and joy and he grimaced into his beard.

Gimli did not care to think how many Men must have died to take four elves alive anymore than he cared to think about how long said elves would endure in hard labor and dark cages under the mountain. He knew that no matter how quickly they let go of their hopes and let themselves Fade, it would be far far longer than it should be. Elves were too strong, and the elves of Mirkwood far too defiant, for their own good. They would last a long time, in the mines and the smithies, before finally giving up their souls to the call of Mandos.

It would not be a mercy, to last so long.

There was no mercy that Gimli could show to these elves, either—no, not even to the one whose face he had spent all these bitter, terrible months longing to see above all other faces. How Gimli had wept, wishing to see Legolas again; now, he yearned only to take all those wishes back and bury them where nothing, least of all the wretched, wonderful Thing on his hand, could hear them. Yes, he had longed to see Legolas; but not like this, never like this.

Not like this.

The Dalish Man bowed low, and murmured praise for Gimli's generosity in a voice made ragged and hoarse by want and misery, and let himself be led away to receive his payment. The elves waited in motionless silence, their heads bowed and their chains heavy. The dwarves watched their lord with tight, shadowed eyes.

Gimli cleared his throat, and spoke again: "Have the elves taken to the cages. Except—" He could not tell if the words that followed were his own, or those of the Ring. "Except for the golden-haired one. Take him to my chambers; I will see to his breaking personally. Oh," he added, almost as though it was an afterthought, making his lips curl in a cruel smile as he said it even as his own heart twisted against him, "and send water for a bath as well; he is all over filthy with blood, and I will not have him defiling my rooms anymore than he can help, noisome creature that he is."

There were chuckles, some weak and some sincere; Gimli did not look to see which was which, because he did not wish to know which of his people had learned to find amusement in the suffering of other creatures and which had merely learned to feign it.

He could not be sure, some days, where his own pretenses ended either.

He smiled anyway, because that was what he had to do. He smiled, and he watched the elves be dragged away into the dark of his mountain, and he kept smiling even as he felt blood trickling down his palm from where the Ring that wrapped cold around his finger had bitten through the skin beneath the tightness of his grip and made him bleed.

It was hardly the worst thing that Durin's Ring had made him do since Gondor's Rise, after all.

#seriously what the FUCK brain #what even is this? did boromir take the ring from frodo then? or aragorn?#or maybe faramir did not show his quality and brought the ring home to denethor and this was the result?#maybe sam didn't stay long enough to hear that frodo still lived and went straight to mordor and when frodo was interrogated #sauron found out what was going on and he sent the nazgul to stop sam before he could reach the mountain and take the ring?#i don't know I DON'T KNOW fuck #what is HAPPENING you don't have ANY WORLD BUILDING to back you up WHY #what are we even supposed to DO WITH THIS BRAIN? DID YOU THINK OF THAT? HUH!?#lotr au #gimli #lotr #legolas #gigolas #my writing #my stuff #gimli dark lord of erebor au #gimleaf

90 notes · View notes

tathrin · 6 months

Note

Roughly what would a Mirkwood Ghost AU be?

From this prompt-meme.

EDIT: now with slightly longer more polished version on AO3 here.

Sorry for the delay in answering this one, I had so many ideas that I could not sort-out what I actually wanted to do with it, and I for the longest time thought it was going to be something where Legolas was an Unhoused Spirit trapped around Dol Guldur, or even one where all of Mirkwood had been dead for generations, but Gimli strayed into the forest one day and came out with an elvish ghost as his side etc etc...but what I actually ended up not being able to get out of my head was this thing, where it's not so much a Mirkwood Ghost AU but rather the opposite (sorry; I hope you like it anyway).

All the dwarves of Moria were dead—all save one, a bright-bearded dwarf who introduced himself to the Company as Gimli son of Glóin, at your service and that of your family. He helped lead them through the dark, and warned them as best he could (for he could not speak its name, of course; one of the rules of death is that one cannot name that which killed him) of the danger of fire that waited below; and when at last they broke past the last enemy and made to run out into the sun, Gimli stopped. Legolas turned back, his sharp elvish ears hearing the sudden silence where dwarven boots no longer rang upon the stone. "Gimli, come!" he cried. "The orcs will be on us soon, we must hurry!"

Gimli only smiled sadly and shook his head. "I cannot, Legolas. This is as far as was given to me to help the Fellowship, when I begged a boon of my Maker before I go to lay my head down in Dwarven Dreaming forever. You must go on from here without me; I am sorry."

"No," said Legolas. "No, Gimli, you are one of us now, and I will not leave you in this tomb; your kin are dead, and I am sorry for it, but you cannot help them now."

"I am dead too, Legolas. I am dead, and so in this tomb I must remain."

"No," the elf insisted stubbornly, a flare of anger kindling hot within him through the cold weight of grief. If he was surprised to learn that Gimli had been dead even before they met, he did not show it; but he was an elf of Mirkwood, and so perhaps he alone among the surviving Fellowship was not surprised. "No, Gimli, come away with us," he said, and his sad eyes were fierce. "Did you not pledge to aid the Fellowship when first we met you in the dark?" he challenged. "Would you be proved faithless now, when the road lightens?"

For a long time they stood there, living elf and dead dwarf, staring at one another across the dark threshold of Khazad-dûm. Legolas reached back into the shadows of the ancient dwarven halls and held his hand out: steady, waiting. His star-bright eyes did not flicker as he stared at the ghost before him.

Eventually, Gimli met that long hand with his own, and let the elf pull him forward into the light.

He had more than half-expected to dissolve the moment his feet left the stones of Khazad-dûm and his head stood out beneath the sun, able to endure the light even less than living orcs; but Legolas held firm, and Gimli endured his first breathless walk beneath the sun. When he looked into the Mirrormere, he could see the stars shining through the shadow of his face; but by the time they reached the trees of Lothlórien, he was solid enough to cast shadows of his own upon the ground, even if his feet made no footprint in the leaves.

The elves of Lórien were not keen to let a dead thing walk into their woods, but the Lady's power did not bar such a noble spirit from her lands, and so they could do naught to stop him; and so the ghost of Gimli walked forward with the Fellowship of the Ring beneath the golden leaves of Caras Galadhon. He bowed to the Lady there, and she wrapped a charm braided of her own gleaming hair around his wrist before he left—three strands of Tree-lit silvered-gold to anchor his dead spirit to the world so that his ghost might endure in places that were less forgiving to spirits than the Golden Wood.

Thus bound to the living world by the locks of the Lady Galadriel, the ghost of Gimli son of Glóin floated down the Anduin and soared across the plains of Rohan and dragged living orcs to their deaths on the cold stones of Helm's Deep; he shivered through the Paths of the Dead, the one dead-thing there not bound to Isildur's Oath, seeking refuge from the ancient spirits that saw him far too clearly in the warm and living hands of the elf that led him; joined the oath-bound dead as they assailed the living enemy at Pelargir and caught and bolstered the faltering steps of a living elf when the cry of white seagulls lashed the longing for distant shores like whips across his trembling ears; took the fields outside of Gondor alongside Isildur's Heir and marched with the living towards their doom outside the Black Gates.

And when the war was done, and the Dark Lord cast down, and the One Ring unmade, Gimli son of Glóin took the hands of the elf that had drawn him out of the black pit of Moria one last time and whispered his farewells at last, and—

And Legolas caught his dead face between his hands and pressed his living lips to the ghost of Gimli in a kiss, and whispered, "Stay."

And faithful Gimli, who could not bear to let even death break his promises to the living, lingered as he was bid; as he was begged.

He bound dwarven charms to the crystals of the Glittering Caves, creating in their gleaming beauty a space on the edge of life and death alike where a half-housed spirit could wander safely; he fashioned bands of mithril to hold the Locks of the Lady around his spectral wrists until the ghosts of his bones settled solidly into his spirit, as steady as the heartbeat of any living dwarf within his silent, breathless chest. And he walked, dead and devoted, at the side of his living elf, and if fearful superstitious whispers followed them wherever they want, Legolas did not seem to mind them—and so Gimli would not falter to them either.

And indeed, what cared Legolas for the whispers of fear that followed the spectral steps of his dead lover? Legolas was an elf of Mirkwood. He had ever lived among Shadow and Death, his people standing brave and doomed against the Necromancer, defiant to their last breaths and beyond. What cared he when people whispered about the ghost of Gimli now? They had ever whispered such things of Mirkwood, too, and Legolas had ever loved his dark and deadly forest.

Why not love a dead dwarf, too?

And when all of Legolas's mortal friends were dead at last, and only the ghost remained yet by his side, he built a grey ship and sailed for the Straight Road at last, following the call of the gulls to the elven-home that he had never seen. And when the ship crossed the rain-curtain between the mortal and immortal planes of the circles of the world, the shimmering ghost of a dwarf sailed with him, and none in Aman could stop them; for Aman was a place barred to living mortals, yes, but Gimli was no living mortal.

And so they walked onto those white shores together, and Gimli's dead feet made less impression in the sands than the light elvish tread of Legolas, but the grip of their hands entwined was as solid and firm as any living bond.

Mahal wept to see one of his dwarves so twined to an elvish soul that even death would not free him to seek the Dreams of the Dwarves that waited for all his kin beneath the stone—but Gimli held his dead head high in the face of his Maker's tears, and did not falter. He held Legolas's warm living hand within his dead one, and did not falter.

And the Lady of Lothlórien saw her golden locks still gleaming bright around his spectral wrists where he stood there translucent on the sands, and she smiled at them both, and Gimli was content. His Maker would understand someday, and see the love that bound Gimli's dead spirit to the world, and sorrow for him then no more; for was it not Mahal who had first forged his dwarves to be so stalwart in faith and in endurance?

And the heart of Gimli son of Glóin was ever faithful. Even in his death.

#gimleaf #gigolas #gimli #legolas #lotr #lotr fanfiction #my writing #alphabet au meme #lotr au

35 notes · View notes

tathrin · 1 year

Text

I should probably wait for when I get around to posting this whole chapter, but. I just wrote this section and I like it a lot and I don’t want to wait, I want to share it now. And this is from like chapter seventeen or something, and I only have up to chapter six posted and I really don’t want to wait that long ugh. So please have some peaceful, before-the-storm, out-of-context (but you don’t really need the context for this, I promise) pre-gimleaf interaction from my zombie au fic.

(Spoiler Warning for the Zombie Au Fic, I suppose, although nothing that’s particularly plot-relevant, I don’t think. Y’all knew they were going to meet eventually, and the fact that it’s happening in Rivendell is not much of a give-away imo. But stop reading now if you’re reading that story and don’t want to read anything out-of-order, I suppose.)

Strange as Rivendell is, however, it is nothing compared to the strangeness of the elf who flits up to Gimli now, his loose golden hair bouncing like tufts of dandelion in the breeze behind him.

"Legolas," Gimli says; a flat acknowledgement rather than a greeting.

Legolas smiles brightly and hops onto the bench beside him, crouching on his heels rather than sitting like a proper creature, as seems to be his wont. (Gimli tries to remember if he has ever seen this elf sit in a chair the way people do, then wonders why he is wasting the mental effort on someone for whom he cares so little.) Legolas is holding some kind of long stem in one hand, and he pinches a small purple bud off of it and sticks it in his mouth.

"What are you eating?" Gimli finds himself asking before he can remember that he doesn't care.

"Lavender," says Legolas. He holds the stem out. "Would you like some?"

Gimli blinks. "No," he says. "No, thank you."

After a pause while the elf plucks at his lavender and tilts his head back to stare up at the trees that line the street beside their bench, Gimli cannot help but to say anxiously, "Lavender. Which you…plucked from someone's garden as you passed?"

Legolas tilts his head, apparently thinking the possibility over. Then he says, "Yes."

"Ah," says Gimli.

He does not know much about gardens or flowers, but he thinks of the humans of Dale, and how territorial some of them can be about their homes and the surrounding grounds.

"Perhaps…perhaps you should not do that again," he says gently.

Legolas turns his silver-bright eyes on the dwarf and blinks at him. "Why?" he says, tilting his head the other way now before breaking into a grin again. "Oh! No, you do not need to worry, Gimli, it will not hurt the flower to lose a few buds. We grow lavender in Mirkwood, too, and I know its growth well. It flourishes in the south of our trees especially, or—or it did," he finishes, his voice going soft and a shadow passing across his gleaming eyes. "I do not know how it fares now, of course." Legolas ducks his head and turns away.

Gimli does not know what to say that will be of any comfort, and he cannot bear to make this strange creature feel worse while he is mourning for his homeland, so he abandons his attempt to explain the concept of private gardens and potentially possessive gardeners. He has a difficult time imagining that anyone in this peaceful valley will take offense to someone plucking a single strand of lavender from their garden, anyway.

He hopes.

I love writing about Mirkwood elves as these weird forest cryptids, and one of my favorite parts of this modernized-Middle-earth AU I’ve got going on here is how while everywhere else is a little bit more like our world due to the modern technology/society/etc innovations, Mirkwood is just even weirder than it was in canon, and Gimli is just like...what the fuck, what is this weirdo elf and why won’t he leave me alone. what the hell am I getting myself into. fuck.

Anyway whether you’re reading the zombie fic or not I hope you enjoy this little moment of out-of-context levity from it.

#gimleaf #gimli #legolas #mirkwood #lotr fanfiction #gigolas #my writing #my stuff #lotr zombie au #lotr

52 notes · View notes

tathrin · 1 year

Text

Uhhh so in the chapter I’m working on next for the Gimli Dark Lord of Erebor AU fic, I have the Ring getting really excited about the idea of dressing Legolas up in Fancy Clothing to make everyone think that he’s Gimli’s “pampered pet” and...yeah, I think I accidentally just turned Durin’s Ring into a frustrated fashion designer that’s finally getting its chance to shine after three thousand years of being stifled by its parental maker’s expectations that it do military service and shit like that instead. Help?

#brain wtF #how does this fic keep getting more messed up in NOT the ways i was expecting AT ALL when i started this lmao #expectation: there's going to be lots of Death and Torture and Darkness and Misery!#apparent reality: magic ring fashion catwalk and lots of cuddles???#gimli dark lord of erebor au #gimleaf #gigolas #lotr fanfiction #my writing #my stuff

35 notes · View notes

tathrin · 10 months

Text

A response to this ask; taken from this prompt; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox).

#28....as a lie.

*technically this one picks up after the end of this story if you want to read that first, although you don’t need to; it’s as much a self-contained snippet as any of the others, it just happens take place in a setting within the events of a specific fic, that’s all.

Gimli’s eyes were drawn ever and again to the elvish dancers, even as he was drawn several times into brief conversations as friends and acquaintances paused at the table he now shared with Gandalf to exchange a few words and toast their well-wishes together for Gondor’s king and queen. Gimli was glad of the toasts, at least, for they brought fresh mugs of cool ale, and the heat of so many cavorting bodies had raised the temperature of the hall to near-dwarven levels, despite the cool white stone and tall windows through which a summer’s breeze still wafted.

Legolas’s hair shone like a sunrise in the rich torchlight, and his eyes gleamed like starlight on pale clouds. Gimli was amazed that anyone could long look elsewhere, with the shine of him whirling there to draw the eye.

He was not amazed that the other elves twirling on the dance floor were drawn to him; of course they were. How could they help but be lured in, dull drab moths circling that golden glow? Long hands ran up and down Legolas’s lithe limbs and pressed against his slender waist, long fingers twined through the streaming locks of his unfettered hair and curled possessively around his braids—

The mug in Gimli’s hands gave a crack and shattered, soft metal collapsing in on itself in his grip. He stared at the mess in his hands, numbly grateful that he had at least drained it already and so there was no ale left to spill out across his lap, and then he hurriedly shoved it onto the table behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning hotter than any torch in the hall.

Gimli chanced a sideways glance at Gandalf, who was watching the dancers with every evidence of placid enjoyment on his old face. Had he seen? Had he heard? He said nothing, but that did not always mean anything with Gandalf. Perhaps Gimli should speak, should craft some excuse...

“Flimsy human metal,” he muttered, and glanced at the wizard again. Gandalf nodded absently, but did not otherwise react.

Gimli let out his breath in relief—and then a second later he nearly choked on it, as Legolas suddenly bounded out of the tumult to perch on the bench beside him. His eyes danced as merrily as any of the revelers and his smile beamed bright and clear upon his beardless face.

“Will you not dance with us, Gimli?” he asked. His voice was light with laughter and with joy and his thin chest heaved from his exertions. Gimli found his eyes drawn upwards to the bare lips above that smooth and hairless chin.

“What?” he said.

“Dance with us, Gimli!” Legolas repeated. “Come, you can teach us dwarven steps and I will show you the ways of elvish revelry up close.”

“No,” Gimli answered automatically, his heart stuttering in his throat. “No, I—I am quite comfortable here, thank you.”

“You do not seem comfortable,” Legolas observed, and Gimli felt his stomach drop like a stone. He could not stop himself from glancing behind him at the ruined mug, even though he knew the gesture was a dead give-away; if Legolas had not seen it before, he surely would now, with Gimli’s gaze to lead him to it like a map—or a swift arrow.

“I am perfectly fine,” Gimli insisted. “Gandalf and I are enjoying the dancing quite well from here, thank you.”

Legolas spared a glance at the unmoving wizard but his eyes soon fixed on Gimli once more. “You are bothered by something,” he said quietly. “I can tell. Will you not tell me what? Perhaps I can help.”

Gimli’s mind stuttered with the possibilities of the help that Legolas might offer, and he quickly shied away from the idea. “No!” he blurted. “No, I—as I said, I am fine. It is merely warm in here.”

Legolas laughed. “Warm!” he cried. “But you are a dwarf!”

“Aye, a dwarf,” said Gimli, “and one who is enjoying his ale from his comfortable seat, and has no need to go whirling about like some flighty elven dandelion!”

Legolas should have laughed; Gimli knew his friend well enough to know that much. He should have laughed, but he did not. Instead his pale eyes narrowed sharp and keen on Gimli’s face, and Gimli could feel himself blushing beneath that tight scrutiny.

“Does it bother you,” Legolas asked in a low voice, “to see me frolicking so with these other elves?”

“What?” Gimli exclaimed. His hands clenched convulsively, and he was glad that he had already broken his mug; had he still been holding it now, he would surely have turned the thing into a flattened disk of over-stressed and useless metal. “Bother me! Of course it does not!”

To prove it, Gimli made himself laugh and shake his head, as though Legolas had spoken some ridiculous jest. He even lifted the elf’s lean brown hand and kissed the smooth knuckles as more evidence of how thoroughly unbothered he was. “Go back to your dancing, Master Elf!” Gimli chortled. “I am doing quite well watching it from afar, thank you!”

Legolas stared at him for another moment, his smooth face unreadable . The tips of his ears were flushed dark red from all of his cavorting and his pale eyed looked very wide with no beard to frame them.

Then he shrugged, and said, “As you like, then!” and squeezed Gimli’s shoulder once before bounding away and throwing himself back into the whirl of the merry elvish dancers.

Gimli let out a shaky breath and flexed his hands a few times, getting the blood-flow back into them.

"Lying will do no good for either of you," Gandalf declared calmly. "And it is hardly fair to Legolas; he will take you at your word, whatever you tell him."

Gimli could feel his cheeks burning hotter, shame coming along to add its kindling to the blaze. He managed to force an unintelligible grumble of disagreement from his lips, but nothing more articulate than that; he felt as though he was already strangling on all the words he would not, could not, say.

"He will," Gandalf insisted. "The elvenking might be able to spot a lie from 300 leagues and skewer it as neatly as his son ever has an enemy with that bow of his, but Thranduil's people are another matter. Lies are not generally told in Mirkwood. It is not a place for dissembling, or oaths, or scheming. The Wood-elves are a simple, honest people. And you are Legolas's friend." Gandalf pulled his eyes away from the dancing and fixed his gaze on Gimli instead. His bushy brows were drawn very low atop them, making his eyes glint like embers in deep shadow. "If you tell him something, he will believe you, Gimli. And you will have none but yourself to blame for the results."

Without waiting for Gimli to muster either the courage or the wits for a response, Gandalf swept to his feet and strode off into the tumult of the party.

Gimli slumped low on his bench and stared miserably at the dancing elves.

Legolas was still so impossibly vibrant and noticeable against the duller backdrop of the others. Gimli's eyes fixed on him at once. He seemed to be moving now with even greater abandon than before, if such a thing were possible.

And if such a thing were not impossible, Gimli would almost have said that Legolas kept glancing back at the table where Gimli sat as well—but he was not, of course, and so Gimli put the thought from his mind.

He had more than enough to think of anyway, when a tall elf of Lórien slid up behind Legolas and snaked her arms across his narrow shoulders, leaning in low to murmur something into his finely-pointed ear.

Legolas laughed and turned to face her, their long lithe arms entwining as close as any dwarven lovers. They swayed and swirled together with the music, and the elf-woman’s hands slid up from Legolas’s shoulders to tangle in his braids. Legolas smiled up at her and said something that Gimli was too far away to hear, but it made her laugh. Then Legolas gave one of her dark braids a gentle tug, and Gimli realized that he was growling low in his throat as though facing down a horde of goblins.

He turned away blindly and reached for his mug, realized that it was both empty and broken, and turned back around just in time to see the elf-woman twirl away into someone else’s arms as another pair of hands took Legolas by his trim waist and plucked him out of the center of the tumult to pull him in close against their long lean body, and—

And it was Haldir, Mahal curse it. Gimli’s mouth went dry, his blood pounding in his ears like drumbeats as the March Warden leaned in close and lowered his mouth to Legolas’s ear, whispering something. He took one of Legolas’s braids in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the heavy golden strands, like a dwarf might test a metal for its quality. Haldir was hardly dancing; only swaying a little as he stared down at Legolas, who stood balanced before him on his toes like a bird paused on the edge of flight.

Gimli was on his feet before he realized it, about to start forward and—and what?

His hand was at his belt, which was empty of course; a wedding was no place for weapons. And why was he reaching for his axe, anyway? He sat back down on the bench with a heavy, hollow thump. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He had had too much ale, clearly. It was the only explanation for his strange behavior tonight. His throat was dry, but he would not drink anymore tonight; he had drunk too much already, clearly, and it was clouding his thoughts. Making him think strange, impossible things. Making him dream things that—that were not, that could never...!

Legolas laughed and rose up onto his toes to press a light kiss to Haldir’s lips.

His head reeling, Gimli watched as the March Warden took Legolas by the hand and led him, smiling, towards the door. If Gimli thought that Legolas paused on the threshold and looked back, somehow finding Gimli’s eyes across the crowded room and glancing at him hesitatingly, questioningly, even hopefully—well, then that was just another sign that he had reached the night’s limit for ale; reached, and more than passed.

Gimli held himself very still, schooling his expression to a placid calmness that might have rivaled Gandalf’s, and then he forced a smile and a nod—just in case Legolas was really looking; just in case he could really see him.

A shadow seemed to flicker across those bright elvish eyes, as though one of the torches near the door was on the verge of guttering; although when Gimli looked at them, they both appeared to be burning tall and strong still.

When he looked back, there was only a faint fading flicker of golden locks flowing around the corner as Legolas vanished into the night and Haldir’s arms.

Gimli sat there for several minutes, staring into the empty darkness of the door. The noise of the wedding revels that had once filled the hall with such bright merriment seemed to have faded now, somehow; he heard it from a distance, like echoes from some far-off cave. Eventually he forced himself to rise, and murmur unintelligible farewells as he passed his friends, and trudge his way across the long white hall towards the other door.

He stumbled back to the rooms the Fellowship shared, alone.

#this was supposed to be a little more silly and slapstick than it ended up being oops #sorry? and/or enjoy the angsty dwarf i guess #this isn't necessarily the ''canon'' ending to that fic btw #so i'm not going to be adding it on to the story #it's just...where this snippet happened in my head when i started writing idk #i promise to try and keep most of these totally stand-along moments #rather than things that you need to read other stories or know the context of specific aus for #anyway that one's pretty canon-based too; it's just aragorn and arwen's wedding #it just has some extra set-up before it if you want to read more scene-setting that's all #gimleaf #gigolas #send a kiss meme #my writing #my stuff #gimli #legolas #haldir #legolas x haldir

22 notes · View notes

tathrin · 8 months

Text

As you may or may not already know, I've been slowly chipping away at a Celebrimbor joins the Fellowship AU for a while now, and I finally have the general plot hashed-out and the first chapters written, which means it's technically at a point where I can start posting it...but. it is a very slow sort of story to write. (There are a lot of Plot Things to juggle.) So updates will not come fast! However, I also feel like I've been sitting on it forever already...

So I ask: should I start posting this thing, with the understanding that it will be an incredibly show updater? Or should I wait?

*I'll be out of town until late Sunday night, so if I don't respond to things for a while I promise it's not because you've offended me, I'm just not likely to be able to get online for a few days! But please do feel free to blather at me if you have anything to say.

Thank you for the help!

#it contains both silvergifting and celebrimbor x narvi (in the past obvs; no current ships for poor tyelpe)#and of course is an eventual gimleaf fic as well (because do i ever write anything that isn't? lmao)#with a hopeful heavy focus on celebrimbor and frodo platonic bonding because of Ring Stuff #if you want to know anything else about it feel free to ask i am very happy to ramble about this story #although some of it is a lot more vaguely-sketched-out than other parts so i may or may not have a concrete answer #lotr fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #celebrimbor in the fellowship au #celebrimbor #lotr au #lotr zombie au #my stuff #polls #silvergifting #celebrimbor x narvi #gimleaf

18 notes · View notes

tathrin · 1 year

Note

gigolas for the "send me a ship" meme?

...I don't think I've posted anything like that? Certainly not recently enough that I have any idea what you're talking about anon, I'm so sorry. This is the most recent thing that anyone I follow has posted that fits that criteria, so that's what I'm going to respond using because idk where else to go looking for something to use. If you're looking for a response to something else please send me a link or a more specific tag so I can find it?

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

Legolas seems the obvious choice for the hunter motif with the archery and forest stuff, but tbh I think I'd rather go the other way on this one because Mirkwood = great place for cryptids and monsters. So we'll have Gimli be the monster hunter, and he can still use his axes (silver-tipped of course) only of course he's always been more thoughtful and poetic than just any old hunter, so it doesn't take him long to realize that there's more going on than it seems when he walks into that little village in Dale. Seems like the werewolf that's been "terrorizing" them only started doing so when they went after him first, and this weird skittish feral creature doesn't seem like he actually enjoys hurting people — although oh boy will he if he gets pushed to it, as Gimli discovers when he accidentally stumbles on the real source of the problems in Dale that the shy werewolf was being scapegoated for. All of a sudden there's a wolf between him and the biggest fucking spider he's ever seen and it's snarling and oh shit. Oh shit, he has feelings now. Gimli's uncles are never going to let him live this down.

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

Yeah I feel like if there's a "weird creature" involved, then the weird creature is going to have to be Legolas, sorry to be repetitive. But. Gimli is just trying to mind his own business and have a simple, ordinary life on the shore, and this fucking fish-man keeps popping-up to pester him and sing and oh my gods does he ever stop singing? And when did Gimli start liking the damn songs? Capsizing during the storm is entirely Legolas's fault, because if Gimli hadn't been so damn distracted by all the fucking songs and flirting he wouldn't have been so behind on his catch that he'd have gone out in that weather, so getting saved by the damn fish is just what Legolas owes him for creating this situation in the first place, really. (Anyway surely there's a better way to keep someone from drowning then giving them air via kisses, right!?) Dammit. His uncles are never going to let him live this down.

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

Okay and this time we're going to reverse things, and Legolas isn't the weird creature...he's the weirder witch. The witch in the woods, people call him, but they say it in a very different tone than the one they use when they talk about the witch in the other woods, the pretty light-dappled one with the golden leaves. People are so judgemental about things like growth so thick no light gets through, and fungus growing up the sides of your cottage, and spiderwebs thick enough to spin cloth from, and rivers that put you to sleep for three days...and, well, the spiders can be a problem, yes, but only because their natural predators have been hunted nearly to extinction. So they're running rampant, and it's not good for the balance of the forest, so they have to be culled now and then or it's going to throw the whole ecosystem completely out of balance. It's not Legolas's fault that the old book he found for Spider's Bane was damaged in a fire sometime during the previous witch's tenure, and that part of the instructions were unreadable. He thought he was just going to summon a few magical stone-bears who would eat some of the spiders. He didn't realize he was binding himself to a familiar...or that said familiar would start looking less and less like a bear and more and more like a person the longer he was there. He certainly didn't realize that the stone-bear was doing it on purpose, because it had taken a fancy to Legolas. It was supposed to be a semi-sentient magical construct, not a...not a person! With feelings, and thoughts, and the ability to tailor its own shape to suit its whims (it wasn't even supposed to have whims!), and the most fantastic beard that Legolas has ever seen...

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

Gimli is quite happy working at the coffee shop, thank you very much everyone who thinks it's funny to make jokes about his English Degree In Coffee ha ha. The owner is nicely chill (all the weed probably contributes) even when Gimli has to get curt with problem customers. He gets to work on his novel in between busy periods, and most of the really annoying would-be-customers go to the corporate shop down the street instead of this hole-in-the-wall that serves real coffee, thank you. Of course, the owner also seems to know veritable tons of the weirdest people, including Gimli's own uncles (how old is he, anyway?) which he didn't discover until after he'd been working there for six months and Fili came in shouting "Yo, Gandalf, how's the rugrat doing?" and embarrassing him half to death, thanks. Honestly it would be a perfect job if it wasn't for that weird-ass perky blonde who drinks way more caffeine than can possibly be healthy even before he covers it in twenty ounces of whipped cream and sprinkles, ugh. He's in there all the time, so much so that Gimli forgot he was there when he started muttering plot-points out loud, which blondie apparently decided to treat as story-time, and now he comes in every day asking for the next section and sure, it's helping Gimli actually get the damn thing written if only to stop blondie from pestering him, but he's pretty sure he's going to strangle him in a month and even Gandalf isn't a chill enough boss to be chill with that, Gimli is pretty sure, and...and then he gets just the worst rejection letter from that poetry zine, and he can't stop crying at the counter, and suddenly blondie is hugging him and offering to "show the editors the error of their ways, no really it's gotta be fixed if they rejected you because your stuff is so good, Gimli! And that's not okay. I'll get some of my pals, we'll ride over and explain things to them and—" and the kiss didn't mean anything, Gimli was just sad and confused and tired, and now blondie's bringing him flowers when he comes in, what the fuck—?

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

I think I'm skipping this one because I'm not a fan of the power-dynamics here, sorry. I'm sure lots of people have written lovely fics with this sort of premise that manage to find a way to balance them (or to lean-in on the power-imbalance taboo) but I'm gonna. skip it. sorry.

I think having them be professors of rival departments would be lovely, though. So substitute that, there we go.

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

Maybe I'm getting lazy at this point, but I'm just going to go with Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, and Gimli son of Glóin, noble knight of Erebor. There have always been monsters in those woods, but they were little things that could be dealt with relatively easily as long as one knew the proper techniques and took the proper precautions. (Gimli had never seen a castle with anti-spider fire-netting before. It was...unsettling, to say the least.) But then bigger, nastier things started being sighted. Then rumors spread of some sort of witch, some sort of Necromancer, lurking in the forest, likely in the ruined tower in the south. The queen took a company of soldiers to investigate, and never came home. Distraught, King Thranduil forbid any of his people from going near it—but the monsters kept coming, kept getting worse. So he put out a call for knights and battle-wizards, and knowing the riches of the Woodland Kingdom, many came.

Not many Dwarven Knights were interested, there being too many years of bad-blood between their people and the elves, but Gimli was young and eager to prove himself. He figured that he would be able to easily dispatch whatever monster had the flighty, feckless elves in a tither, and take his renown and his treasure home in a fortnight or so. The sight of so many warriors returning bloody and reeling, or not returning at all, was disquieting...but Gimli was young, and bold, and once the elvish prince accidentally insulted his honor and his courage there was no way he was going to turn tail and go home now, no sir! Of course, the prince was just frustrated because his father wouldn't allow him to risk his life going after the Necromancer himself, and lashing-out at Gimli because Gimli was unlucky enough to say the wrong thing at the wrong time—but it still happened, and it happened in front of the entire damn court as well as all the experienced warriors who'd come for their chance at the treasure and the glory too, and there's no way the story isn't going to get back to Gimli's uncles and they'll never let him hear the end of the time he got into a shouting-match like a child with a fucking elf-prince. Ugh. At this point, it would almost be a mercy if the Necromancer did kill him—but at least if Gimli's the one who does the job, he'll be able to reclaim at least some of his dignity. So he leaves early, hoping to beat the next round of knights to the tower by himself.

The last thing Gimli expected—or wanted—was for the fucking prince to follow him...!

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

Tough, because I'm honestly struggling to see either of them as a parent, but I'm going to go with Gimli as the dad here. Probably for something between kindergarten and third grade; I feel like Legolas would be best suited as a teacher for little kids. He's got the optimism and the energy and the complete willingness to go sit in the mud puddle beside them and listen very seriously to their long and incoherent stories and act like he's understanding every word (and honestly he somehow probably is, he's like the Kid Whisperer). Gimli is still struggling to get little Moli to open-up to him two years after the kid's parents died and left their single nephew juggling sudden parenthood and shared grief. When Moli comes home from school not just smiling but chattering, Gimli thinks it's a miracle. The miracle turns out to have a name, and that's Legolas. Unfortunately, Gimli doesn't realize that until they've already ended up as PTA Enemies For Life over an argument so stupid that frankly Gimli can't even remember what it was. Something about jewelry and the dress code, he thinks? Ugh, Legolas might be great with kids but that's clearly his only skill. Whatever, Gimli can deal with him for one school year. Unfortunately, he has to deal with him all the time because Moli adores the asshole. Well, fine. Gimli can do this, for the kid. He can do this. It would be a lot easier if Legolas wasn't every bit as pretty as he is annoying, dammit...

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

Whoops I probably should have read through all these before I started writing them, huh? Already used the Gimli Is A Writer on the coffee shop one, oh well. Anyway: Gimli Silvertongue is obviously the writer, because his skill with word-smithing is literally canonical. So Legolas is the keen-eyed editor working for Mirkwood Publishing, and he falls in love with the author behind the novels long before ever meeting him in person, and he certainly didn't expect a short, hairy slab of muscle who looks like he does caber-tossing as a daily warm-up when he pictured the guy who wrote all these sweet, soaring, poetry-riddled stories, but. well, everyone says not to judge a book by its cover (although Legolas knows how important good cover design is, thank you, and always sulks a little over that saying because hello are you paying attention?) so maybe he shouldn't have been so caught off-guard when he failed to accurately judge the author by the interior...now he just needs to figure out to get un-tongue-tied enough that he can go talk to the guy whose over-use of semi-colons he's spent literally hours arguing over, shit.

*********

Anyway, I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted, anon. But thank you for sending it in (or...sending something in, at least, oops) because it actually ended up being a lot of fun to answer. Hopefully you enjoyed it too, whether it was what you were actually looking for or not! And if it wasn't, feel free to clarify what you were really after and I'll try again. Sorry!

#gigolas #gimleaf #ask meme #gimli #legolas #aus #shipping #gimleaf aus #long post #my writing #my stuff

49 notes · View notes

tathrin · 1 year

Note

i’m so in love with your AU, especially the parts where Gimli is being influenced / hearing the whispers of his ring!! i love hearing Gimli’s inner workings and thoughts as he’s further being corrupted. im not sure where I got the idea that dwarves are more resilient to the influence of the ring (not sure if this is from canon or fanon or just vibes ach) but it’s really fascinating to read your story with the thought that dwarves are resilient (ESPECIALLY GIMLI!!! the knight in shining armour who in the movies literally immediately tried to destroy the ring) and seeing just how far gone Gimli has gone to justify the corruption to himself. its like Gimli is an unmoveable rock and his ring Knows This, so it has chipped away at him slowly, until he withered away and has become something unrecognisable. given what it took for legolas to recognise gimli fully and completely (him taking off his ring) it seems this is already in effect!! but somehow though despite the corruption and the pain going on here i still Trust gimli, isn’t that insane? 😅 it’s like yeah he’s definitely being influenced by evil energy and yeah he’s committed war crimes but also he’s Gimli so that’s okay 🫶 no but in all honesty i feel like how legolas did first seeing him, couldn’t recognise him at first but once i did i flinched back in fear at the dark lord of erebor i saw!! (but also i just feel like when it comes to gimli i cant lose hope!) maybe he snaps out of the evil influence, maybe he falls further into its hold!! who knows what’s gonna happen in this AU? cant wait to read more! <3 (also many apologies for the HUGE chunk of text 😅)

Oh my gods don’t APOLOGIZE for this, I am flailing over it. I am writhing on the floor making happy screams. Thank you ahhhh I am so glad you like it, thank you! And I’m going to respond by rambling my ass off at you, so I hope you don’t regret it too much ahaha. But like. yes! Gimli IS the knight in shining armor! The unmovable rock! The incorruptible pillar! But now...

Well, now I have to justify a dark take on him in this weird-ass AU idea that bopped me on the head out of nowhere lmao. So I’m going to just gush my thoughts out at you incoherently, and see if I can A: get them a little more concrete in my head and B: see what you think! (This is what you get for engaging with me I’m so sorry. You stuck your finger through the cage and now I’m gnawing on it excitedly lol.)

You’re right about Dwarves and the Rings btw, the original Seven Rings couldn’t corrupt the Dwarves the way they did Men (no Ringwraithdwarves lol) they basically just gave them Severe Goldsickness, iirc. But! it’s not gold that Gimli wants! Over him gold shall have no dominion. So that wouldn’t be a very viable way of getting to his heart, silly Ring. So basically where my head went was, the Rings work by corrupting a person’s goodness not by just like. mustache twirling mwa-ha-ha evilness, right? They get to you by offering you what you want, not what the Dark Lord wants; that’s how they hook you, anyway, and then it shifts and drags you down with it into what It wants...but that’s how it starts.

With Frodo, the way the Ring got to him was through him showing Gollum mercy, basically: the whole “I won’t kill you, but if you attack me again you’ll be thrown into fire!” thing. Sure it was wearing him down all along in little ways, but that was where the Ring got its final major defining “in” with him. With Boromir, it was “hey do you want strength to defend your city?” and yeah, of course he does! Who wouldn’t? That’s a viable desire!

So with Gimli, Durin’s Ring has really been working with not a lot so far, tbh.

It’s certainly been enacting influence! Twisting, corrupting, cajoling; chipping away, as you said. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to do X...but a year ago, he had to do Y. And doing Y makes doing X easier to bear; that’s how corruption works. And the Ring has certainly been working hard. But it just hasn’t been able to get much of a grip.

Because Gimli is compromising his sense of right and wrong for the sake of the greater good, sure; but that was less about the Ring on his hand luring him in than it was about the fact that all of Middle-earth has been conquered by a Dark Lord, so there are no good choices left. Do you defy Gondor and watch your people be slaughtered on the altar of your pride? Or do you bend your knee and try to keep them alive as best you can? Gimli chose the latter, and that’s led to a terrible (and slowly corrupting) struggle, because he has to side with evil “for the sake of his people” and accept, allow, and sometimes even order evil things done, and there’s no good way off that road to hell once you start walking it (especially in Tolkien) — but he hasn’t really needed (or wanted) the power of the Ring. Yet.

Now all of a sudden here’s Legolas in chains before him, and elves are the one thing in Middle-earth who don’t get the option of “bend your knee to the bad guy and live, or defy him and die” — for them, it’s just die. And of course Gimli doesn’t want to stand back and watch Legolas die. But maybe Gimli can save him! He’s the Lord of Erebor! He has a Ring of Power! He should be able to do something to save him...right!?

And that’s how the Ring is (finally!) getting its big “in” with him here.

He’s already compromised himself so much, he thinks; he’s already got so much blood on his hands, spilt to save his people. He’s watched children in Dale starve, because he doesn’t dare give them food the Dark Lord doesn’t think their people have earned. He’s watched Mirkwood burn and stood behind his walls and done nothing. He’s let elves be worked to death in his mines. He’s accepted a Ring of Power, and all it’s done has been to leave him even more powerless than before. He’s stood back while good people were executed, because nothing he said could have saved them and daring to try would have only made more trouble for the people depending on him. He’s pledged his allegiance, and that of his people, to a monster for the sake of making sure the dwarves who rely on him live to see another day. He’s already damned. So what else does he have to lose?

Well. Legolas’s life, as it turns out. And if the Ring can save him...well.

Gimli is such a good, strong person. He’s never wanted power for himself, or lordship, or anything like that. He just wants to save people, to protect them. And just like with Boromir, the Ring is going to offer him the power to do that, and that might be what pushes him over the edge from slowly damning himself by making the best of increasingly bad choices...to falling off the edge into total darkness.

But we’ll see! I have no idea where this story is going to go, so maybe it’ll be a story of salvation! Or maybe it won’t. We get to find out together. Yay?

#you have the best insights into gimli #i am gnawing on my fingers to know what you think ahhh #galadrielspeaks #gimli #gimli dark lord of erebor au #lotr #lotr au #my writing #gimleaf

36 notes · View notes

tathrin · 9 months

Text

#36....to give up control.

This one takes place within the setting of this fic. For those who have not and do not care to read it, the set-up is that it’s an AU where Boromir took the Ring to Denethor, Sauron surrendered to Gondor in chains and surely isn’t planning to pull a Nûmenor on them oh no and Gimli was forced to take Durin’s Ring and be appointed Lord of Erebor by Denethor to prevent Gondor from sacking the Mountain. Legolas is currently a captive of the Lonely Mountain, specifically Gimli’s captive.

Legolas hates the sight of that Ring. That band of gold, that glittering gem — it is loathsome against Gimli’s flesh, its beauty foul beyond measurement in Legolas’s eyes. The Shadow of its power lies between them like a haze, casting Gimli’s features into a strange veiled darkness whenever he puts it on...and as Lord of Erebor, he cannot often afford to take it off.

(Too, he does not want to. That is how those Rings work, Legolas knows. Part of Gimli wants to cast the wretched thing away...but part of him, Legolas knows, does not. And never, ever will.)

Legolas hates it.

But the Lonely Mountain lives under Denethor’s heel now, and the Lord Denethor would be angered if his thrall cast away the leash of that Ring, and Gimli cannot afford to bring Gondor’s wrath down upon his people — and neither can Legolas. He is a captive of the Mountain, yes; this terrible mountain where so many of his people are held cruelly, and killed more cruelly. That does not mean he wants every dwarf in Erebor to die, does not mean he wants to watch their mountain burn the way the woods of Lothlórien burned; the way Mithrandir burned.

Does not mean he wants Gimli to die.

(Never, never wants that.)

But, oh, how he hates the sight of that Ring upon Gimli’s strong and skillful hand, hates to see the Shadow of its evil thought dull the brightness of his sight. Hates to feel the icy heat of its metal against his own skin, when Gimli takes his hand or touches him.

There is more of that now that they have found this desperate solution to the problem of Legolas’s captivity. Before, when Legolas was merely locked in Gimli’s chambers, he was always careful — oh, so careful! — to remove the Ring. But now that Legolas walks the halls of the Lonely Mountain behind Gimli, they do not have that luxury. If Gimli’s people are to truly believe that their lord keeps this elf as a precious pet of his own — if they are to convince Gondor that that is why Legolas has not been slain with the rest of his people — then they cannot allow themselves such comforts.

So Legolas has learned to brace himself against the touch of that foul gold against his skin, the whisper of it between his ears. He cannot hear the Thing, not clearly; not the way Gimli can. But when the Ring touches him, flickers of its thoughts break through; whispers, low and soft and terrible. It is a Thing of selfish greed and coveting bitterness and furious jealousy. The scrape of its sinuous words in Legolas’s mind is a thousand times worse than the brush of its metal sides against his skin...

But he cannot recoil from the touch of the Lord of Erebor, the dwarven lord who owns him. (It is a lie, of course; but it is also a truth, too, for while Legolas wears no chains anymore, he is not free. He cannot leave without Gimli’s permission, and Gimli does not have the power to grant him freedom, not without dooming the whole of the Mountain. They are both of them prisoners here.)

So when Gimli takes Legolas’s fingers with the hand that bears the Ring, Legolas lets him. When the gem of it blinks brightly in the torchlight that illuminates these underground halls, casting its Shadow over the brighter gleam of Gimli’s eyes, Legolas smiles as though his heart is not breaking at the sight.

When Gimli takes Legolas’s chin in his marvelous, strong, broad fingers, and the frigid heat of that fell metal pressed against his skin runs up through his veins and makes him shudder, Legolas leans down into the kiss, and closes his eyes against the tears that long to fall at the sight of his beloved Gimli chained to such darkness.

At the terrible truth of Gimli bowing to evil to save his people.

Legolas closes his eyes and leans into the kiss, as though if he only sinks deep enough into the warmth of Gimli’s heart he will find a core of fire strong enough to burn away the Shadow that shrouds his dear dwarf; the Shadow that lies over the whole Mountain, slowly eating the goodness of these stalwart dwarves away so that only greedy, selfish shells remain. As though if he surrenders himself to Gimli’s kiss, he can forget all the other surrenders and defeats that have brought them both to this place.

As though he can still be safe in Gimli’s arms.

It is a lie. But it is a lie that Legolas would give nearly anything to have become the truth.

The Ring whispers empty promises to him, offers to do just that. Legolas shudders, knowing that it cannot — and knowing, too, that it is only the knowledge that Durin’s Ring cannot stand against the One in the White City that owns it that keeps the offer from tempting him. Legolas had thought it terrible, on that desperate Quest that failed, to have the One Ring whispering its offers to him in the darkness of the empty night, but there was nothing that it could promise to give him that he wanted and so its words were thin and weak and easily ignored.

This is different. This is harder, because this is Gimli.

His dear, beloved Gimli. Legolas whimpers into the kiss, and Gimli draws back enough to wipe his thumb across Legolas’s cheeks, soothing away his tears.

When Legolas opens his eyes again, he sees the glimmer of their wetness on the gem of Durin’s Ring, bright as mithril in the torchlight, and thinks that he has never seen anything so terrible.

Then he looks up, and sees the Shadow in Gimli’s smiling eyes, and that is so much worse.

It is easier to sink down into the kiss again than it is to look upon the sight of his beloved dwarf so marred by Shadow; easier to drape himself across Gimli’s lap and curl down to part the soft braids of that beautiful beard and press his lips to Gimli’s; easier to let himself drown in the warmth of wide dwarven arms folded tight around his waist; broad dwarven hands spread strong against his back and curled across his knees; to let himself be held by those hands, so wide and strong that they might cradle a whole mountain in the protection of their palms, were it not for that terrible band of gold curled so dark upon them.

It is so much easier to simply surrender.

The fight, after all, was lost years ago. All the world is darkness now; all save the comforting embers of Gimli’s arms around him, Gimli’s lips upon him, Gimli’s braids draped across him. So much easier to surrender, when you have already lost.

Durin’s Ring whispers its seductive offers in Legolas’s ear and he closes his eyes and kisses Gimli harder. It is what the Ring wants, of course, but it is what Legolas wants too—or at least, is as close to what he wants as he will ever come in this world fallen so far into Shadow.

Hope is dead. So he kisses Gimli, chasing its last fading embers into the dark.

#and here i was thinking that i'd probably never write anything in legolas's pov for this au lol #i still don't think it likely that we'll have scenes set in the actual fic that will shift from gimli's pov to his #but this particular prompt was just too tempting an opportunity to do something in this setting so...legolas pov!#gimleaf #gigolas #gimli dark lord of erebor au #lotr au #lotr fanfiction #ask meme #send a kiss meme #my writing #my stuff #legolas #gimli #lotr

14 notes · View notes