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streets-in-paradise · 3 months

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Courage

Relationships: (Platonical) Eowyn x (Fem)Gondorian!Reader / Eowyn x Aragorn (crush talking)/ Pippin x (Fem)Gondorian Reader

Warnings: Use of she/her pronoums

Summary: As a prelude to the celebrations on the victory over Saruman, the ladies of Rohan and Gondor participate in a simple encounter that seils their friendship validating each other's feelings in dark and lightfull topics concerning their hearts.

Note: For my dear friend @beautifultypewriter, inspired in her Gondor Girl concept. ( If you happen to like this one, I will keep working on releasing one more going full into the idea I brainstormed to you in dms)

Even after witnessing his demise, the voice of Saruman kept haunting her mind for a while during the trip back to Edoras. Despite being warned about it, she had certainly not behaved properly when facing the evil wizard responsible for the orc attack that caused the death of her brother followed by the kidnap of the hobbits. For once, she was the one doing exactly what Gandalf told her not to do and paid the price.

As a result of her angered search for a confrontation, she made herself another target of the prideful scolding. Saruman shifted guilt with skillful rhetoric, saying it was her who failed Boromir and let him die. The charm of his voice got her heart stricken with guilt. Although he didn’t waste much time on her, his insults were precise. He called her a wild beast that in nothing resembled the grace of a gondorian lady, a standing proof of the inexorable degradation in the lineage of Numenor that the ruling of Aragorn would not fix. In his conclusion, he didn’t forget to mention that Denethor would have rather been freed of a daughter than robbed of his eldest son.

From all those claims, he presented at least one truth.

The reminder of her father’s indifference was the last thing she needed at that precise moment. After acquiring a modest glory in the battlefield for the first time in her young life, being forced to think of Denethor was like having the victory being taken away. Her wins were twisted into flaws, making her feel once more relegated to the obscure spot he reserved for her back home.

Only the sweet voice of Pippin bringing her back from the self absorption as they were riding away from Isengard managed to counteract the perverse effect. Given the rushed nature of their reencounter, he accepted no one else to take him merely because he wanted more time with her. The excited ramblings from her beloved hobbit about the escape from the orcs, his adventures in Fangorn, and his involvement on the attack plan of the Ents were enough to ease her heart.

On his part, Merry didn’t hesitate on reclaiming his share of the honors while hearing the tales from close, but he also understood that his cousin was trying to impress his lady. In return, Gimli told them in a prideful tease about the bewilderment that a certain gondorian shieldmaiden had caused among the Rohirrim through her courageous acts fighting alongside him, Legolas and Aragorn in the front line at Helm’s Deep. His comments made Pippin’s impulse to present himself in an heroic light increase with his admiration of her.

It was simply lovely and she didn’t doubt in filling him with praise until he became a blushing mess hiding behind her. At the same time, he had accidentally reminded her of how proud Boromir would have been if he could have seen them together again after performing such great actions and that thought casted the sadness away. Time for celebrations was approaching and that brought a different, simpler reminder to her calmer mind.

Until then, the people of Theoden had only met one side of her. Precisely the one she had forbidden at home, since they knew her as the warrior maiden of the Fellowship initially playing wolf on sheep’s clothing for Wormtongue only to reveal herself moments later. Since that fight the situation allowed her to never get back in disguise. The refined lady of Gondor once seen in Rivendell never stepped Rohan, but she thought it would be fun if she would make a comeback for the party.

Let no one say ever again that she had no glimpses of the grace legends attributed to her bloodline.

Presented with all the comforts that Eowyn could share with her, the transformation became an easy and midly fun previous step. It gave them time to have a good long talk together while taking part on a lady-like activity that wouldn't raise any concerns. The niece of Theoden had her own personal interest guiding a sudden want to perform feminity, one her friend knew that she wouldn't comment with anyone else. Revisiting her wardrove in the calm of her bedroom while talking of the latest events she didn't got to witness was a good start for both. For instance, she was a witness watching for her and willing to share details that her relatives didn't bother on comment to her before.

" He died doing what he loved, ... backstabbing his master. " The gondorian joked into her telling of Wormtongue's death. " Your uncle, infinitely kind hearted as he is, was still offering him a second chance. I think that worm realized he had made a strong bet on the wrong horse, but Legolas gave him no span to show the king any regrets. An arrow to his chest, quite ironical way to die considering what he did. "

Eowyn gave her a half smile, unsure of how to feel besides from a deep relief.

" His black heart craved only power, control over me."

The girl knew exactly what she meant. Her meticulous work hidding the most controversial aspects of herself from her father's sight weren't enough to keep her fame completely clean. Rumours had spread subtly, and to many men craving control those have came out as attractive. If the only daugther of the Steward was wild as the forest, every single one of them believed themselves to be the one that could tame her.

" You are free of him." She sweetly concluded, holding her hand and abandoning her sight from the beautifull garments to focus completely on her. " And we can still hate him in secret, if you wish. I have encountered my own amount of despicable noblemen in Gondor, but none of them has yet sold to the dark power hoping to receive me as spoil of war from the looting of his own countrymen. You resisted with courage, one of the kind that many soldiers in the battlefield won't understand. I do, and admire you for it. "

It was the most heartfelt compliment Eowyn had received in a good while and it was hard to explain why a surprising happiness invaded her.

" You, my friend? After obtaining glory for both of us? "

The gondorian was eyeing the blue fabric of a cute dress she was considering to choose.

A reminder of the sea, of her mother.

" Would you believe me if I tell you that your domestic feat remains more impressive to me than all my killings at Helm's Deep?" She suddenly confessed. " Being alone in Minas Tirith with Denethor would be a nightmare on itself. To that add one of my brothers dead and the other one exiled, while also having to flee from the advances of a repulsive man seeking to submit me through resignation. Inviting me everyday to accept him as some inevitable fate, remiding me I'm alone in the world ... I don't think I would have endured it as well as you did, always keeping your royal dignity."

Eowyn had sat on the bed and, dress in hand, her friend followed.

" If you think I'm strong, please look at yourself, because your strenght inspired me that night."

" In some twisted way that escapes all forseen ends, justice was served. " Was her simple reply. " Your brother and my cousin are avenged."

The garment was carefully placed at their side as the guest rushed to hug her.

" Vengeance is not over, because you are going to look gorgeous for your crush and have fun. " She mischievously whispered. " Haven't you think about it? The hatred on Grima's eyes as he was leaving Meduseld was too focused on Aragorn, and now I think I see why ... "

The rohirrim lady looked up in shamefull surprise.

" No, you don't! " She attempted to defend herself in a playfull tone, breaking the contact. " That's not true, and I don't know how it occured to you, but ..."

" But Arwen is leaving with her kind, as far as I know, so I don't see an issue." The gondorian encouraged her. " I got to meet her in Rivendell, and I meet her father ... If I had one as wonderfull as Elrond, I would too seek to follow him. Besides, you are my best friend and Aragorn has become like a brother to me. if a mortal woman shall eventually come to cure his sadness, I would rather her be you. "

Her eyes were shinning with hope, but not only to the kind voice inspiring her yet a third kind of courage to face her growing feelings for the Ranger.

Loneliness fading, like ice slowly melting, to the certainty of knowing she had found a friend. Another presumably lonely young woman, at least in terms of companionship that could be found of other women, who had so quickly shifted such strong affection towards her.

" As my beloved friend that you are, I beg you not to feed my dreams so soon."

" Allow yourself to dream for a while, you deserve it" The foreign girl insisted. " If things don't work as we expected, we will deal with that later ... Together. "

She liked the sound of the last sentence, but kept her objections.

" How? Do you know the cure for a broken heart? "

" Let that brave heart of yours to take the risk, not only by the blade its strenght can be measured. " The gondorian concluded, then kissed her forehead. " If turns out my brother of the sword is not the one, I still have one more blood brother to introduce you to. And if you don't like that one, I'm pretty sure Merry has no hobbit lass waiting for him at the Shire. "

Her positivity and will to comfort her ended up getting a few chuckles out of her. Not exactly because of the jokes, but due to the happyness she found in her insistent support.

" I believe your love for the halflings is starting to put Gandalf's to shame."

The called out lady smiled, clearly on remembrance of her own infatuation.

" One stay in Rivendel and days of travel on our quest was all it took for Peregrin Took to win me over, and he wasn't even trying. " She began to tell. " There are some men of Gondor that think not much different from the says of Saruman about me: a wild beast, only to them I'm a fair one ... And all wildeness is up to be conquered and rulled, owned to make use of. They approach me like a mare in need of taming, thinking they will perform the miracle of my submission. Do you understand now how could I have fallen for one of hobbits that released the forest? "

She could have continued, but no more words were needed to make her understand the core of her reasoning on her feelings.

" Wouldn't you prefer the green one?" Eowyn pointed out, regarding the dress choice. " In homeage to Fangorn, and your love."

#lotr #lord of the rings #gondor girl #(platonical) eowyn x reader #pippin x reader #peregrin took x reader

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aspiringnexu · 2 years

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LOTR but it works like Undertale in that when you die everything resets. But like a hardcore version of Undertale where you die and have to start at the very beginning.

Everyone in the Fellowship is aware of it and it first comes about because Gandalf dies and they all end up back in Imaldris and very confused (it happens in Lothlorien for them because Gandalf takes a few days to kill the Balrog and then die and it takes a bit for Manwe to kick him back). So they set out again with the weirdest sense of Deja Vu and this time they make it through Moria without even meeting the Balrog because Pippin remembers not to touch the arrow. Then Boromir dies and back to square one.

And this keeps repeating over and over and over as their actions to keep one from dying accidentally cause someone else to die until they have all of the steps down pat and no longer give a shit except managing to move on from the fucking Anduin. They’ve been stuck there for days (not counting the time it took to march there from Imladris, through Moria, and through Lothlorien, over and over and over and over again).

Rinse and repeat as Sam accidentally falls to his death via One Slippery Rock, Legolas gets nailed by a very lucky Orc in Moria, it turns out Gimli can’t swim and neither can Legolas or Aragorn when trying to pull a fully armoured dwarf to the surface, Aragorn gets run over by Eomer, Merry and Pippin take turns getting skewered by hungry orcs, and Frodo gets murdered by Gollum (who is the only other one to know about the resets and is pretty cranky by the time he catches up).

And without fail, every single time one of them dies they get sent back to Imladris. At first its terrifying, then just plain confusing, then terribly depressing, and then... well they get used to it. Death no longer has meaning. The Quest suddenly seems a lot more cheerful. The end of the world is a lot less daunting when you know you can perpetually keep it from ending until you make sure you can fix it.

Though it is a bit confusing for everyone else during the Battle of Helm’s Deep when Gimli and Legolas are having their competition.

“Legolas! Two already!”

“I’m on seventeen!”

“Eh! I’ll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!”

Later

“Final count fifty-one thousand two hundred and eighty-two.”

“Well that’s not bad for a pointy-eared elvish princeling! I myself am sitting pretty on fifty-one thousand two hundred and eighty-three.”

#LOTR #lotr headcanons #more like lotr crack aus #frodo #samwise gamgee #pippin #merry #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gandalf #gets to the point where the stakes have no meaning so lets have some fun #Sam finds out that Gollum is actually essential when he just stabs him and then they reset again #when they meet eowyn she becomes part of the loop and she remembers what's going on #she stabs wormtongue on more than one occasion #when faramir meets Sam and Frodo he remembers too #by the time they actually complete the quest its been years #and Legolas and Gimli's headcount is worryingly high #like 'more than the number of Orcs still in Arda' kinda high #Arwen also eventually becomes part of the Fellowship when she joins the whol remebering the resets thing #Just sneaks out in full armour like Mulan because she's spent the past sixty resets just sitting around #she is so BORED

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skyeet-the-writer · 2 years

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Lady of Enmond

Chapter Three: Meetings with Strangers

guys wait i'm really enjoying this, i forgot how much i loved lotr!! hope yall are enjoying it too. feel free to check out my other things as well! also feel free to leave some comments, i want to hear what yall like about this so far x.

legolas greenleaf x female!reader (dw he finally shows up)

summary: after finally arriving in rivendell, y/n is allowed one day of peace and relaxation before quickly having to jump into action the next during a council lord elrond has constructed between all races of middle earth

word count: ~5.8k

warnings: cursing, mentions of violence/weapons, mentions of death and fear-inducing things (lmk if there's anything i missed)

The days seem to blur together as the now five of you make your way to Rivendell. It's much further than you thought, though you're not familiar with these parts. Finally, you reach the Elven city on day five, exhausted and smelly.

The entire time, all of you worried of Frodo. You hope he's alright, you hope he's here, in Rivendell, healed and resting. Something says that he is alright, but still, you don't know and that's what worries you.

You've never been in an Elven city. In fact, the first Elf you've ever seen was Arwen a few days ago. Even now, walking through their beautiful city, you're still in awe of them. Immortal, ever-fair beings are all around you, and they're the ones looking at you oddly.

Aragorn has you meet with Elrond. He's just the same as you've heard in descriptions. He looks old, for an elf, but you suppose he is, as he has seen much. Aragorn tells you he plans to talk with him in private, but at least wanted you all to meet him.

You're not sure to kneel before the Elf Lord or bow or what, but Aragorn does none of these. You exchange a look with the Hobbits and shrug.

"Welcome, all, to Rivendell," says the Lord, spreading his arms wide and smiling, one that is oddly comforting. "You all must have had a long and tiresome journey, so I will not keep you long. Just--"

"Where is Frodo?" Sam demands, immediately growing red in the face from his outburst. Hastily, he stammers, "I-- Apologies, your Lordship, b--but where is our friend, Frodo?"

Elrond does not seem mad, merely amused. "Fear not, Samwise. I can assure you, your friend is safe and healthy."

Pippin perks up. "Can we see him?"

Elrond smiles again and holds a hand up. "Soon. He is resting now, we want him to wake on his own. And I assume you're hungry?"

The Hobbits exchange looks and nods. Elrond nods and waves an arm, and another Elf with blonde hair appears. "Gaelin, show these young men to their rooms. Have food prepared and baths drawn."

Quickly, the Hobbits are ushered off, now seeming in much better spirits. They talk together excitedly and seem to be buzzing with joy.

You yourself feel similar. Frodo is alright, he's here and he's resting and he's fine. And now you are here. You've completed your quest.

"I assume you would like the same, Lady Khaya?" Elrond's voice pulls your attention. He's speaking to you.

But before you can think, your say, "It's Y/N, my Lord. Khaya is an allias. I'm from the small village of Enmond in the Tergue Woods in Rohan." Then your eyes widen and you look at Aragorn. He's smiling just a little, seeming far more at ease here. "I... I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, I just blurted that out--"

Elrond laughs lightly and holds a hand up. "Worry not, Y/N. Your secret will be safe with me. Now, I expect you request food and a bath?"

A bath sounds amazing. And fresh clothes. And strawberries. Those are your favorites. What wouldn't give to sink your teeth into one in a hot bath. "Yes, my Lord, if you would be so kind."

"Anything for Aragorn's friend. Come, Leilia will lead you." He gestures to a sweet-looking elf with braided red hair and green eyes. She smiles at you and curtsies.

You bow to Elrond just slightly at the waist. "Thank you. However, I do have a quick question?"

"Yes?"

"Do you perhaps have a raven I could use? I wish to send a message to my father, letting him know I am here. He hasn't heard from me in several days, and I do not wish for him to worry."

Elrond nods. "Yes, of course."

Aragorn says, "I'll take it."

You only trust him with it. Elrond seems kind and respectable enough, but you know Aragorn more. Reaching into your bag, you hand him a piece of paper rolled and tied with a black string. "Thank you."

He nods and you are led off by Leilia. She says nothing as she leads you around the city, to an ornate stone building. She takes you up the stairs and leads you into a large room.

Slowly, your weapons clanking, you step into the room. It's large and airy and smells of fresh grass and rainfall. The floors are made of light wood and the walls are slightly darker. There's a bed in the middle and off to one side is an entire open wall with a balcony, and silky curtains flowing in the breeze. There's another room off to the side with a chamberpot and a bath already drawn, the warm water steaming.

"What would you like to eat, my lady?"

You turn to Leilia and ask, "Do you have any strawberries?"

~*~

Not long later, you're in the bath chewing on a strawberry with your eyes shut in delight. You can't remember the last time you've felt this relaxed. A few Elf ladies asked if you needed help washing, but you politely declined. You're a grown woman, you don't want to bother them with something you could do yourself. Besides, you needed the alone time. Being around Aragorn and four Hobbits was draining.

Now, your hair is washed and so is your body. You're determined to sit in the bath until it's cold and you're all pruney. There's a plate full of fruit beside you on the rim of the bath and you've never been more grateful to eat it in your life. Strawberries, both blackberries and raspberries, grapes, melon cubes, oranges, and a few olives. By now, you've devoured most of the plate, not realizing how much you craved the fruit.

The wind blows lightly outside and you toss another blackberry into your mouth, catching it with ease.

Finally, what feels like hours later, the water is finally cold enough to encourage you to get out. Drying yourself off with a soft white cloth, you wrap it around your body and walk back into the rest of the room where Leilia told you clothes would be waiting.

And there are. On the bed, laid out is a fresh set of clothes. A light green flowy dress is before you, with long, loose sleeves and a pair of simple flat shoes.

You put them on a do a little twirl, remembering how much you like dresses. They're so breezy and they made you look so pretty.

There's a knock on your closed door, and you turn. Who could that be? You open the door to see Aragorn standing there, looking clean and rested up as well.

"Oh," is all that he says, looking you up and down.

You grin. "'Oh'? Is that all?"

"I've never seen you in a dress before."

It occurs to you that he's right. In all the times you've been with him, you always wore pants, a shirt, and boots. You were always somewhat grimy and your hair was always a mess of tangles.

"You look good, though," he adds quickly.

Smiling just a little, you say, "Thank you," and curtsy. "You clean up nicely, too." Playfully, you pull at his tunic.

He just smiles and shakes his head. The two of you have always been like this. Playful with each other. Sometimes, people thought you were flirting, but both of you quickly denied it. He was already betrothed to a beautiful Elven lady and Aragorn wasn't your type. You like blonds.

"Anyway, why'd you come to bother me?" you ask him.

"I was wondering if you'd like me to show you around? If you're not too tired, that is."

He's always been such a gentleman, too. And while you are tired, you're not too exhausted that you would pass up on the opportunity to look around this beautiful place with your friend. You quickly nod and soon the two of you are on your way out.

The sun is beginning to sink to the horizon as you walk around, but that seems to make the journey better. The sun's beams bounce off of the glass and bronze of the kingdom, making everything glitter and shine.

Aragorn leads you through gardens and around fountains, pointing out what buildings are what. There's a smithery, several gazebos for sitting or eating, and a giant library filled with history and texts of old.

"Can we go there?" you ask him excitedly. You've always loved history. In your home, you didn't get to read much, only having oral tales.

Aragorn smiles. "Later tonight."

He keeps true to his word. After checking in on Frodo and thanking the gods for his healing, you both head over there.

"I'm happy Frodo is well," you say as you walk down the steps. "I've grown fond of the Hobbit."

"As have I," Aragorn agrees.

As you walk through a courtyard, you see two small men. For a moment, you think they're Hobbits, but these men have long, rough beards and they're dressed in armor.

They are dwarves.

What are dwarves doing in Rivendell?

Before you can ask Aragorn, he leads you down to the library you were obsessing about. The moment you walk down the steps, you forget what you were going to ask. The room is beautiful, the most fantastic place you've seen. It's large and decorated with ornate and silver pieces of furniture. The room is filled with books. To one side of the room is a balcony with a telescope pointed towards the side. There are other astronomy and mathematical devices that you can't name.

Walking up another set of stairs, your eyes land on a fresco painting on the wall. With a small gasp, you slowly cross the way, your shoes tapping against the stone flooring.

A mural of Isildur versus Sauron is before you, looking well-preserved and well-crafted. There's so much intricate detail, you wonder how one could have possibly had the patience to create it. Isildur, a once great king, is laying on the ground before Sauron the Dark Lord, his sword raised in defiance. Something about that image makes a feeling of great pride rise in you, knowing that you share similar blood to that man, to that hero. Perhaps you could be like him one day?

Aragorn stands beside you and you say, "It's beautiful."

"Yes," he agrees, seeming fixed on Isildur. A look crosses his face, of shame? You cannot tell and you wonder.

But something else catches your eye. You turn and spot something glinting on a cloth-covered plinth. You step up and see the shards of a sword. Narsil, the broken blade of Elendil. It was rumored that though Sauron shattered the blade, Isildur picked up the hilt and cut the Ring from Sauron's hand, both banishing the Dark Lord and taking the Ring for himself.

And now, it is around the neck of a small, kind, adventurous Hobbit.

Slowly, you grasp the hilt of the broken blade in both hands and hold it up in front of you. It's heavy, even in your hands. What little sunlight there is left in the sky seems to bend towards the sword and refract against it, sending little glimmers across the room. You expect the broken edges to be dull after all this time, but even looking at them tells you they're still just as sharp.

"I can't believe this is still in such good condition," you whisper, gently setting it back down where it was.

"The Elves have taken good care of it," Aragorn says. "Come. Let's find a book."

He doesn't have to tell you twice, and within minutes, you have one chosen. Unsurprisingly, most of them are in Sindarin, but you find one book you're interested in that is in Westron or Common Tongue.

And so you sit at a bench and open the book and begin to read. It's a telling of legends of old and of history. You flip to the page where the talk about when Melkor was captured by the Valar and how Sauron stayed behind. Ever since running into the Nazguls and discovering the Ring, you've realized how little you knew of the history behind it. So, you figured you should read up on it.

Aragorn comes and sits beside you after choosing his own book and, together, the two of you read in silence. Normally you're both in silence when you're not drunk or bored and want to talk. Aragorn is the quieter of you two, so you assume this is lovely for him.

But you enjoy yourself. You enjoy learning the history behind that one tiny piece of Jewelry, and you also find yourself enjoying the silence. Occasionally, an Elf will come in, but they leave soon and don't talk to you or Aragorn. The sun finally sets and the birds outside quiet down and prepare for rest. You turn the thick page and it seems to echo in the hall.

Finally, as your eyes grow heavy, you close the book, and it thuds. Aragorn looks up and sees how exhausted you are. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and says, "Go get some rest, Y/N."

The memory of the dwarf pops into your head out of the blue and you blurt out, "Aragorn, I saw a Dwarf in one of the courtyards earlier."

You meet his eyes and he nods. "Yes, I saw him as well."

"Why are there Dwarves in Rivendell? You and I both know very well how much they hate Elves."

Once, while in a pub in a village, you both had a rather lengthy conversation with an extremely intoxicated Dwarf. Conversation, however, was an exaggeration, as he was the only one doing the talking, and how the only talking he was doing was complaining about the Elves.

Aragorn laughs and nods. "Yes, that is true. Elrond informed me that he sent out word to all races of Middle Earth when Frodo arrived with the Ring. He said something about it being up to all of Middle Earth to decide its fate. He's holding a meeting tomorrow at noon. You should come."

With a small frown, you say, "Aragorn, I need to head home. I've already been gone for too long, my father is sure to be worried. He needs me."

"I understand, Y/N, but this is important. That ring is the most dangerous thing on this earth now, and it's important to discuss what to do with it." He takes your hands in his, something he does from time to time when getting into a deep conversation. "You know just as well as I do what is hunting, searching for the Ring. It is dangerous and I know even now that someone must carry it back to Mordor to destroy it."

"Mordor? The Land of Shadows? That's Sauron's dominion, why would it go there? That sounds like the last place someone would want to take it."

"Elrond believes that the only way to truly destroy it is to throw it back into the fire from whence it was created."

You nod. "Oh, makes sense."

"Yes." Aragorn grips your hands. "Please, at least come to the Council. You could provide insight with me."

You bite your lip in consideration. It is only tomorrow, and you don't necessarily plan on leaving immediately, though your mind does tell you that you should go home soon. Even though you informed your father of your leaving and got his clearing on it, you still felt bad, still felt guilty. You are the heir to your village. And while your father is still in his prime, you still need to be there, both for him and your younger sister. She always needs you.

"For me?"

With a sigh, you cave in. "Alright, fine, I'll come. It is only tomorrow. But." Quickly, you pull your hands away and point your finger at him. "I reserve the right to not join any quest or adventure that may be suggested. If there is a quest to take back the Ring, I cannot and will not go. I have other responsibilities."

With a smile, Aragorn nods. "Understood."

You smile at your friend and stand up. "I'm going to retire," you say and pick the book from the bench. "Can I take this with me?"

Aragorn shrugs. "So long as you return it."

"Of course I will." Tucking it under your arm, you bend down to give your friend a hug. "Goodnight, Aragorn."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

And with that, you make your way out of the library, down the steps, and out the door. The night air is cool outside and fresh, smelling of grass and something sweet. Your path is lit up nicely with torches and you recall your way back to your room, surprisingly.

Your room is a bit dark. The moonlight streaming through the large window really seems to be helping you actually see where things are. On the bed, there is another dress, though this one looks more like a nightgown. It's lighter and is a cream color. Your bones start to ache again and so you quickly change from your dress to the nightgown before quickly getting into bed.

The moment your head touches the pillow, you body melts into the mattress. The last time you slept on a real bed was almost three weeks ago, the night before you left to meet with Aragorn. Since then, you've been sleeping in chairs or on the ground. Neither of those was too terribly comfortable.

But this bed feels like a cloud, it cradles all of your pressure points and it provides great relief for your aching back.

The covers are warm and you curl up into a ball to preserve your heat. You suppose you've been a bit conditioned to do that after sleeping outside for so long.

Between the quiet breeze of the wind, the feathery, downy mattress, and the warm blankets, you quickly fall asleep.

~*~

The next morning, you wake up to the sounds of birds and the sweet voices of Elves. For a moment, you think you're still dreaming but when you sit up, you realize that it is real.

Slowly, you get up, your legs sore and achy. Limping towards the balcony, you lean on the railing, looking down at the Elves going about their day. The sun is slowly rising, and you judge that it's just a few hours until midday.

So you get back into bed and continue reading. You may as well get the most out of the comfy bed while you're here.

When you finally need to pee a couple of hours later, you decide to get up and head down to the meeting Aragorn had told you about. You change back into the dress you wore the day before and slip the shoes back on. You pin your hair up somewhat messily and let some strands fall in front of your face before heading out. Before you leave the door, you stop. After thinking, you go ahead and grab your bow. You leave the arrows, but you feel you need just your bow.

Aragorn mentioned it was being held in a courtyard by the library and you find it much easier than you expected. It appears you're one of the first to arrive and quickly claim a seat beside Aragorn.

"You made it," he says to you, smiling.

You nod and shrug. "I didn't have much better to do."

He laughs.

This council chamber is very lovely, with a tree behind it, and leaves fall down onto the ground. There's a semi-circle of stone chairs with a plinth in the middle and a few chairs at the front where Elrond and two other Elves sit.

Gradually, people begin to trickle in groups and sit down. Gandalf arrives with Frodo, who appears a bit nervous, but still in good health. The color has returned greatly to his face and he has that sparkle in his eyes once more. Gandalf the Grey, the acclaimed wizard, looks the part of a sorcerer very well, with his tall grey hat and matching beard.

Elves trickle in and the same group of dwarves you saw yesterday, looking very displeased and uncomfortable take their seats.

Groups of Men sit down, men of Gondor you immediately know. You recognize Boromir, son of Denethor, the steward and acting leader of Gondor. Though your people, people of Rohan, tend to dislike men of Gondor, you've always liked Boromir. He was fair and kind and very brave, earning many titles over the year.

Your eyes scan the crowd as they tend to do, and your eyes stop of a particular Elf. He is exceptionally fair, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. His jawline is sharp and his skin pale. He wears a sage green cloak and his hair appears to be pinned back.

Quickly, you look away when he meets your gaze, leaning your cheek in your hand to hide the blush.

Once everyone appears to have arrived, Lord Elrond stands from his chair. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You've been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." Even the mention of the land sends a chill down your spine. "Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall."

At this, you begin to glance at the others seated near you. Unite? Men, Elves, and Dwarves haven't united together in ages. Though there is a greater evil, part of you doesn't expect this meeting to go too well.

"Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom," Elrond continues, looking tall and mighty with his crown on his head. He looks at Frodo and says, "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo," and extends his arm to the plinth in the center.

You watch as the Hobbit stands and approaches the plinth, aware that all eyes are on him. Gently, he sets the Ring in the center and you swear you hear it thud. Frodo walks back to his seat, seeming lighter and more at ease, and Gandalf gives him a reassuring nod.

The Ring looks simple enough. Just a simple golden band. But there's something that makes you want it. It's so shiny, so pretty. It's powerful, too, your mind tells you.

"So it is true," Boromir whispers, literally on the edge of his seat, his eyes fixed on the Ring.

The group is mumbling, whispering among themselves. You look and see that everyone's eyes are fixed on the Ring and for a moment, you swear you hear whispering in your ear. But you lean back in your chair, clasping your hands and squeezing, pulling your eyes away from the Ring and instead staring at the ground, trying your best to resist the urge. You know its true nature, you know this Ring's true master. And it is no one here.

Boromir suddenly stands up and you thank the Valar that you now have something else to focus on. "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark." He glances at the Ring and swallows. "But in the West, a pale light lingered." He gradually approaches the Ring, staring down at it. "A voice was crying, 'Your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found.'" He reaches for the Ring and your breath hitches. He wouldn't dare. "Isildur's Bane."

Before he can even touch the Ring, Gandalf stands and begins chanting in a low and echoing voice. The sky darkens and thunder cracks, shaking you in your very seat. Boromir staggers back to his seat as the language you don't recognize resonate in your ears, sending a feeling of dread down your spine. The speech subsides and the sky clears and lightens up again.

Elrond turns to Gandalf, looking angry. "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris."

Tongue? Then you assume that it's likely Black Speech to which he refers, the dialect of Sauron and his followers. See, you did learn something useful from that book.

Gandalf bows his head but does not seem sorry. "I do not ask for your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" He stares a Boromir and declares, "The Ring is altogether evil!" and heads back for his chair.

Boromir shakes his head. "It is a gift." He stands up once more. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" He turns and addresses all races present. "Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of your people are your lands kept safe."

You sigh and press your tongue into your cheek. Spoken like a true Gondorian, assuming that just because they do their job they are entitled to something.

"Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it," Aragorn cuts in. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

You nod and say, "That is its entire point, really."

Boromir smirks a bit and asks cooly, "And what would two Rangers know of this matter?"

The Elf, who you had been eying earlier, stands and says, "He is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Son of...? Son of Arathorn? Isildur's heir? No wonder Aragorn kept his past secret. You resist the urge to look at him in shock, but part of you isn't surprised. Somehow, it fits him.

Boromir turns to your friend in shock and amusement. "Aragorn? This is Isildur's Heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor."

Now you're beginning to wish you had some strawberries to eat because this sounded like it was shaping up to be a duel to you.

Aragorn says something to the Elf. Most of it you don't understand but you catch the last part, his name. Legolas. Prince of the Woodland realm. Yeah, you've heard of him before. You still find him pretty.

Boromir looks at Legolas and says, "Gondor has no king." He looks at Aragorn and says, "Gondor needs no king." And he sits back down, glaring at Aragorn.

Maybe, you think, but your ruler right now is kind of a douche.

You gently touch your friend's arm and raise a brow, silently asking if he's alright. He answers by putting his hand over your wrist and leaving it there as Gandalf begins to speak.

"Aragorn is right," says the wizard. "We cannot use it."

"Then you have only one choice," Elrond stands and the words seem difficult for him to get it out. "The Ring must be destroyed."

A heaviness settles across the air, but you know he's right. You've seen what's after it, how undying they are, how fearsome. It's a fact that no one can use it. Sauron's power is linked to the Ring. Destroy the Ring, destroy the wielder.

"What are we waiting for?" asks a wild redhead Dwarf. He stands, grabbing his axe and making his way for the Ring. Before anyone can stop him, he swings his axe down at the Ring. The weapon shatters as if made of wood and the Dwarf falls down, his kin rushing to pick him back up.

Glancing at Frodo, you see that he's clutching his head and slouching in his chair. Your heart aches for him, poor boy. Looking back at the plinth, you see the Ring is, unsurprisingly, unharmed.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess," Elrond says. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came! One of you must do this."

For a moment, the room is silent. Of course it is. Walk into Mordor? That's not possible.

Of course, Boromir speaks up. Again. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever-watchful."

Yes, you've heard rumors of an eye. A great, fiery orange eye atop a black tower, always watching. That does freak you out, mostly because eyes freak you out.

"It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand Men could you do this. It is folly."

Angrily, you sit up in your chair. What do these Men not understand, this is the only way. "Did you hear nothing Lord Elrond just said? It is the only way, and it must be soon. For something far scarier than any of you is after that Ring." With a jab, you angrily point at the plinth.

Boromir's eyes latch on your, coldly. "And if we fail, woman, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

Now you stand. "You seemed mighty confident just a minute ago, taking it for your own. Now you're scared of it?"

The room breaks into arguments, Men against Dwarves, Dwarves against Elf, Men against Men. It's loud, but you're angry, so you have no problem approaching high-and-mighty Boromir to chew him out when he steps towards you.

"What would a woman know about these matters?" asks the High Warden of the White Tower. "A Rohirrim one at that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you upset because I'm a woman or because horses like me more than you?" You glare up at the man. You've never taken insults or shit from anyone and though he may be attractive, Boromir is no different. "Though, perhaps it's difficult to tell the difference between a woman and a horse, as you've likely lain with both!"

"I have faced far greater battles than you could ever dream, woman. I see no weapons. Are you truly a Ranger?"

"See, I don't need weapons with men like you, all I need is my knee and good aim, though it is a small target."

As arguments grow louder and more Men begin to doubt your own abilities, you need to step back. You're too hotheaded and you're afraid you'll start a fight. Aragorn takes your hand and pulls you towards him, placing a comforting hand on your face.

"How dare they insult me," you continue to rant to him, anger still bubbling, your skin hot to the touch. "Just because I'm a woman? Like, what the fuck? They're running kingdoms and then insult me just because I'm a girl, like seriously? How old are you?"

"Yes, yes, they're wrong, but you must calm down, Y/N," Aragorn keeps telling you but you can barley hear him over your own voice and Frodo's, which has suddenly picked up.

Wait, Frodo?

You turn to see the little Hobbit standing, his face slightly sweaty, shouting, "I will take it!"

The room quiets down, all eyes turning to the Hobbit in shock. You wonder how many of them knew he existed. "I will take the Ring to Mordor." Then he hesitates, now noticing all eyes are on him. "Though... I do not know the way."

The old wizard, Gandalf, nods, walking towards him. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," he tells him warmly with a pat on his shoulder, "as long as it is yours to bear."

Then you do something you do not expect. Just last night, you swore to not go on this quest. But something deep down in your heart tells you that you must go, it's your destiny. And so you walk forward and take a knee before the Hobbit, now being eye-level with him. "I pledge to you, Master Baggins. I will help you in your journey. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I will help you destroy the Ring, Master Baggins, for all of Middle Earth."

Frodo smiles at you and you stand to move beside him.

Aragorn is quick to stand next, saying, "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." Then he kneels before Frodo and says, "You have my sword."

Legolas walks forward. "And you have my bow."

Gimli the Dwarf is next, holding up another one of his axes. "And my axe."

The six of you stand together and you feel pride. This really is shaping up to be a good team to go destroy this Ring.

But the Boromir walks forward. You anger has quickly subsided, as it normally does, but you still feel resentment towards him. Of course, perhaps both of your outbursts was caused by the Ring. That didn't sound so outlandish. But still, you refuse to look at him.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one," he says to Frodo. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

A voice suddenly shouts, "Here!" from nowhere, nearly causing your heart to jump out of your chest. You turn to see Samwise Gamgee running from the bushes to be at his friend's side. "Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me," and he crosses his arms defiantly.

You smile as Elrond lightly says, "No, indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not." He seems to play the part of upset, but his voice lightens near the end and he smiles just slightly.

"Oi! We're coming too!"

Two more Hobbits come running up the steps and you resist the urge to laugh aloud. Frodo's friends sure are loyal to him as they stand bedside his side in front of an Elf lord and over a dozen Men, Elves, and Dwarves.

"You'd have to send us home tied in a sack to stop us," says Merry defiantly.

Pippin nods beside him. "Anyway, you need intelligence on this sort of mission...quest...thing."

Merry stares at him and says in a snarky tone, "Well that rules you out, Pip."

Elrond surveys your group and you can't help but smile with pride. Here you are, on a mission to save the realm. A group of three Men, an Elf, a Dwarf, a wizard, and four Hobbits. Sure, not the likeliest of pairs. Even you could never have dreamed it. But something told you that there was no better group than the one you were with right now.

"Ten companions," muses Elrond. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

Your chest swells and you exchange a look with Aragorn.

"Great!" Pip exclaims. "Where are we going?"

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angry-nightwing · 1 year

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Just got back from watching Return of the King extended edition at the cinema and now the movie is spinning around in my head like a rotisserie chicken

First of all this movie is SO GOOD you guys. Like we all knew, but it's like i rediscovered it. This movie is SO GOOD someone should give it 11 Oscars thus making it the most Oscar winning movie ever tied w titanic

Secondly something really funny happened. Now that I'm a mom, i have a very potent motherly instinct that my daughter triggers in me, but as we were sitting in the cinema, everytime Frodo came on screen that instinct was ACTIVATED. Like I've always wanted to protect him but this was a whole new level

There's something about how quickly smeagol was lost to the ring. It is instantly, in a way no one else in the story has experienced. Something about how inevitable it is, how this was always how it was going to go, how he was always meant to fall to its power

The parallel of the scene where smeagol asks for the ring and kills his friend for it, and the one where Frodo asks for it back from Sam and he gives it willingly

Or the parallel of the scene where Deagol and Smeagol fight over the ring and the scene at the end, the culmination of the entire story, when Frodo and Gollum fight for it as well. How it was always meant to end like this, because this was how it started. How the ring has always gained power by sowing chaos and turning people against each other, how its biggest strength was inspiring obsession and how that very same power is what caused it's downfall.

I never thought about it before but i love how Merry and Pippin fit the respective colorschemes of the two kingdoms of men they end up serving. Merry looks like someone right out of Rohan, even the color of his clothes. Pippin w his darker hair and clothes fit right in w the Gondorians. It makes me wonder if this was taken into account when their wardrobes were designed in preproduction

The look Elrond has when he sends Arwen to Aragorn, and then again after they kiss and embrace. He is weeping for the loss of his daughter. He is so happy she found her happiness. He knows he's never going to see he again. I am crying

I love how you can see when he stands on the pier at the grey havens, Frodo is pale and still a bit sickly looking, but once he steps onto the boat, he instantly gains color back, he has rosy cheeks and a sunkissed face. Even just stepping onto that boat, he's begun his journey towards healing, and that's why he can give his friends such a genuine smile

I also love the inherent selflessness of the action. Frodo doesn't just leave for himself, he also leaves for Sam. After everything they've been through, Sam was never going to be able to stop worrying for Frodo. He would never be able to cast the responsibility aside, he'd spend every day needing to check up on him. "You cannot always be torn in two" Frodo says because he understands that Sam isnt able to fully commit to his family, to just be a father and husband, because he is also still Frodos servant, protector, best friend, gardener. By leaving, he is allowing Sam to let go. Sam comes home, heaves a sigh - of relief, of acceptance? - and says "well.. I'm back." And i truly believe that until that moment, Sam hadn't fully come back to the Shire yet

#return of the king #this is not to say that friends aren't allowed to rely on friends #but i think frodo himself needed to know that Sam could let him go and live in peace #anyway... i probably have more thoughts but this was just a quick dump #frodo baggins #there was some stuff about denethor as well but i forget #maybe it'll come to me later #anyway the point was that sam was probably fine spending the rest of his days looking after frodo bc he cares deeply for him #but the question is whether was that somethong Frodo wanted for Sam. especially because he understood #that despite sam's best efforts frodo was never going to fully heal. that he needed a kind of healing sam and the shire couldnt bring

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i-want-to-see-mountains-again · 2 years

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Here’s the Gigolas OTP questionnaire for my ship headcannon, as I promised (threatened? Lol)

1. What is their love language?

They enjoy teasing and one-uping each other. They are both of the “No one picks on him but me!” mentality.

Very close friends get a pass on this, such as Aragorn, Tauriel, Eowyn and Pippin. But not family. Fili, Kili, Thorin, Gloin and Thranduil get scolded if they say something smart.

2. Who confessed first?

Legolas. I consider his fierce and instantaneous defense of Gimli, against Eomer’s threat of beheading, to be an unconscious declaration of devotion.

Gimli’s shocked expression in that scene is the pinnacle of adorable and a total bonus.

3. Who plans the dates?

Gimli. He loves to plan trips or special occasions, and to share neat stuff he’s encountered.

Legolas prefers to wing it. He does whatever takes his fancy at any given moment. The type to toss a stick in the air and start exploring in whatever direction it was pointing in when it landed.

4. Who is the better driver?

It’s cannon in both the books and movies, that Legolas ‘drives’ and Gimli rides ‘b~tch‘ whenever they ride the same mount lol.

5. Who likes to be the ‘little spoon’?

It seems to be a trend with me, that one part of my OTPs are always considerably shorter than the other, and therefore resigned to be the ‘little spoon’ in this question. 😅🤷🏻‍♀️😜

In of that, I still think it’s cute to imagine Legolas wrapping his long legs and arms around Gimli and drifting off to sleep like a hug-happy spider with a stout fly.

6. What’s their stand on PDA? (Public Displays of Affection)

Legolas has no reservations when it comes to PDA and loves to embarrass his Dwarf. Also, I think it’s his goal in life to make Aragorn one day role his eyes so hard that they stick that way, or make their fathers choke on a beverage at least once every visit.

Gimli isn’t against PDA, but he’s actually rather shy for a Dwarf. He likes it, but he’ll never initiate it and it makes him blush as red as his hair.

7. Who shows their affections with words?

Gimli. Never mind silver, his tongue is pure Mithril.

Legolas thinks he does a good job of hiding how it affects him but anyone, especially their loved ones, can see his soft smile and downcast eyes.

8. Who shows affection through touch?

Legolas more so than Gimli, but even then he’s not real big on it unless it’s a type of prank as mentioned in question 6. He prefers actions to express his love, see question 14 for elaboration on that.

9. How do they like to initiate intimacy?

Gimli with sincere sweet talking and gifts he crafted himself, or perhaps simply by showing interest in whatever Legolas is doing and tagging along like a puppy. He’s usually content just to be near his Elf, very easy to please.

Legolas does whatever he feels like doing such as stealing kisses or casually playing with Gimli’s hair and/or beard (he pretends to not know any better but is fully aware of how scandalous this is in Dwarrow society). Though, if Gimli is in a vulnerable state, he will ask permission first.

10. Do they have a dream wedding planned?

Legolas is fine without a ceremony. It’s cannon in Professor Tolkien’s works, that Elves consider private vows and/or the act of sex to be a valid marriage bond. But he’s willing to go along with nearly whatever his Dwarf wants.

Gimli absolutely has a wedding planned, a grand one with all their loved ones in attendance and an abundance of ale, food and music. The after party should last for days and end with practically no one remembering most of it if all goes according to his plans. Mostly it’s Dwarrow style but he does have a handful of Elven traditions he is adamant must be honored, to show Legolas he pays attention and his Elf’s happiness is important to him.

11. How do they comfort each other?

Despite what people might think, Legolas is a great listener and has a great deal of common sense when the situation has need. He’s like a grounding presence for Gimli when life gets stormy.

The fact that Gimli is endlessly loyal and brave for his loved ones is canonical a comfort to Legolas. He actually says as much in as many words

“But you comfort me Gimli, I am glad to have you standing nigh, with your stout legs and your hard ax.”

12. What’s an ideal evening for the two of them?

They’re not the type to sit idle for long, for one thing they’re both very important people post-fellowship and if they stay in one spot for too long someone finds them and gives them work to do.

Secondly they both love to explore and learn, so it’s no surprise when they spirit each other off to have their own mini-adventures/field trips.

13. Who’s more playful in bed?

Given the way he conducts himself in his friendships, his chivalrious admiration for Lady Galandriel, and his obvious but low key affection for Legolas, it’s firmly ingrained in my head that Gimli is shy, easily embarrassed and does not love lightly. If he loves you in any way, then you have his whole heart. Pair this with the fact that Professor Tolkien’s Dwarrow are canonically monogamous, and I can’t help but be convinced that Gimli is hard to get going but passionate once you get him started.

Legolas, however, is cocky (pun FULLY intended, thank you very much), energetic, flexible and always up to trying something new. Not to mention he loves to get a rise out of Gimli (boy, the double innuendos are flowing like Mirkwood wine tonight), so I can easily imagine him doing/suggesting some extra kinky stuff just to fluster his Dwarf.

14. Who shows affection through gift giving?

Gimli. He enjoys making things for Legolas to use and/or wear such as arrowheads, tackle and shoes for their horse, or jewelry and belt buckles.

Legolas is more of a ‘acts of service and/or loyalty’ kind of fellow.

15. Who’s the first one up in the morning?

Gimli. Having grown up poor in the Blue Mountains then later living in Erebor, which needed every able set of hands working at all hours to restore it to its former glory, I’m sure his parents instilled in him a firm belief that the day is not to be wasted lounging in bed. Side note, he gives me strong ‘cheerful morning person’ vibes. The kind of guy who rises early and cooks a fantastic breakfast while singing a jaunty tune and wakes you with a sincere “Good morning my love! It’s a beautiful day!” leaving you struggling to decide weather to murder him or love him all the more.

Meanwhile Legolas, while certainly not lazy, is still a Prince and gives me the impression that waking him before the sun’s properly visible invites bodily harm.😅 I can easily see him trying to drag Gimli back to bed for sleepy morning cuddles allowing them to ease into their day.

16. Were they friends before they were lovers?

Again, like Bilbo and Thorin, I have to answer both yes and no. They run the full gauntlet of rivals to friends to lovers. Though the animosity between Legolas and Gimli didn’t last nearly as long as the one between the couple that came before them. I attribute this to Gimli winning Legolas’ respect quicker, due to his brash yet pure hearted approach to their quest and life in general.

17. Who’s the better singer?

Nether, they’re both $£¥% for singing lol! I refuse to believe everyone on Middle Earth is a good singer, by law of averages someone has to suck at it and since they’re both so good at so many other things, I decided in my head cannon they’re both terrible singers lol.🙅🏻‍♀️🎵😖👂

18. Who has the best jokes?

Traditionally speaking, Gimli. He has a wealth of antidotes ranging from suitable for all ages to some only to be spoken in dark corner booths of pubs with no ladies present lol.

Meanwhile, if you want zingers to flatten egos, Legolas is your guy.

19. Who’s the better cook?

Gimli. With Hobbits in the family and his own mother to teach him good, hearty Dwarrow recipes, Gimli enjoys cooking and is rather good at it (though he’ll readily admit, he can’t compare to cousin-in-law Bilbo and friend Bombur, they are fantastic).

Legolas is a Prince and never had to cook a day in his life, thus he’s comically bad at it. He can hunt and fish, and is more than willing and skilled enough to dress his kills and clean the fish, but to turn the fruits of his labor into an edible, let alone delectable, meal takes a different skill set entirely.

20. What is their stance on having kids?

Gimli loves them, of any/all races, he has a knack for parenting and would adopt his own mini-army if he had the time to take care of them.

With Legolas, it depends on the child. As a general rule he likes them and if he forms a bond with them, it’s like he transforms into a mischievous kid himself lol! He’s the bad influence parent.

#lord of the rings #lotr #gimli #legolas #gigolas #otp things #otp #i will go down with this ship #old school otp seriously I was in high school

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Of Princes and Witches (Rewrite) Chapter 4- Legolas Greenleaf x OC

Legolas Greenleaf x Alphine Barrowes

Description: The Fellowship, after being driven away from the Pass of Caradhras, has to go through the mines of Moria and are greeted by the creature that lives in the lake.

Word Count: 2.2k

As the hour grew later Gandalf continued to mutter various spells (some that Alphine didn’t even recognize) that could potentially unlock the door to the mines. It continued to be in vain, though, as the doors continued steadfast. After she finally left him to his own devices, Alphine helped Samwise pack the pots and pans at his feet while Aragorn unsaddled the pony they brought along affectionately named Bill.

“Mines are no place for a Pony, even one so brave as Bill,” the Man muttered gently to the Hobbit.

“Bye, Bill,” Sam muttered sadly, petting the horse’s muzzle a few times before Aragorn slapped Bill’s rump to send him off. As the pony trotted away Alphine offered Samwise a small, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry Sam. He knows his way home,” she reassured him, earning a weak smile in response. As the duo took a seat on some medium sized rocks in wait, watching as Aragorn ominously warned Merry and Pippin about disturbing the water after noticing them tossing stones into the lake. The Witch then looked at Gandalf as he seemed to finally give up, copying their movements by sitting on a rock as well beside Frodo. Frodo, who’d been staring at the door in thought, suddenly smiled in comprehension.

“It’s a riddle,” he realized, which caught the Wizard’s attention as he stood. “Speak ‘friend’ and enter. What’s the Elvish word for friend?”

“Mellon,” Gandalf answered. And with that, the door finally opened quietly, revealing nothing but darkness on the other side. Alphine sighed in relief as she stood, and she gathered the Hobbits to lead them inside. The Fellowship stepped inside warily, being practically enveloped in darkness even though the door was still open.

“Soon, master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves; roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin...and they call this a Mine,” Gimli snorted amusedly. “A mine!” Gandalf’s staff glowed brightly, illuminating over the space the Fellowship occupied. All at once everyone recoiled in horror. Innumerable Dwarf skeletons littered the ground with rusted armor and shields peppered with arrows and axes. A gasp ripped from Alphine’s lips and she covered her mouth in shock, taking a step back. Legolas was quick to step in front of her, almost protectively, as Boromir spoke.

“This is no mine...it's a tomb,” he stated grimly as Gimli looked around, horror written plainly on his face. Alphine sidestepped Legolas and grabbed a crudely made arrow out of one of the skeletons and examined it, the Elf looking over her shoulder.

“Goblins,” he informed the others in the same grim tone as Boromir. The very word sent a chill up Alphine’s spine. She’d only dealt with Goblins once in her life, and even then her numbers were greater than theirs. Despite that she, along with the rest of the Fellowship drew their weapons and began backing away towards the entrance.

“We make for the Gap of Rohan,” Boromir demanded, shaking his head. “We should never have come here.”

No one had any time to respond before Frodo suddenly cried out in surprise as he was pulled to the ground. Upon turning around Alphine realized a long sinuous tentacle had wrapped around the Hobbit��s ankle and was dragging him towards the lake. She, Legolas Aragorn and Boromir jumped to action, attacking the creature. The Witch threw spell after spell at it as she ran around the edge of the lake while the Elf shot multiple arrows at it, which effectively distracted it. Using that to his advantage, Aragorn severed the tentacle that held Frodo and pulled him to safety while Boromir hacked at the various other limbs, which writhed around them.

Twenty more tentacles shot out of the lake and lashed out at the Fellowship. One of them grabbed Frodo once again and began pulling him into the lake. The Hobbit was flung into the air. Alphine, thinking quickly, cast a spell that kept the Hobbit floating in the air, pulling him towards the shore until he finally landed in Boromir’s waiting arms. The creature apparently grew angry that his prey was getting away, and Alphine was the unfortunate victim of its wrath.

As the Witch turned to follow Boromir when he ran inside with Frodo, yet another tentacle suddenly wrapped around her ankle and she was dragged into the water. In her surprise Alphine couldn’t even attempt to hold her breath before she was submerged, which in turn caused water to enter her system. She thrashed around in a panic for what felt like hours (though in reality it couldn’t have been more than a minute) before the pressure on her ankle disappeared and a pair of hands grabbed her. The Witch was yanked upwards until she finally surfaced. Her body racked with gurgled gasps and coughs as she attempted to expel the water from her system and catch her breath.

“Come on, back into the mines,” she heard Legolas’ voice above all the chaos around them. Her eyes focused on her savior long enough to see who it was before she was all but dragged back towards the mines.

The remaining Fellowship re-entered the Moria chamber, quickly backing away from the creature’s arms as it seized the large doors. With a shattering echo the creature ripped the doors away, which caused a rock slide that crashed down the cliff face. Within seconds rocks had piled in front of the doorway, sealing it and enveloping the Fellowship in darkness. Everyone stood in the pitch black for a moment before a faint light lit up the top of Gandalf’s staff.

“We now have but one choice...we must face the long dark of Moria,” the Wizard spoke ominously. “Be on your guard...there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world.”

With that the Fellowship was off through the mines. They walked through great caverns, over narrow bridges and through disused mines, with abandoned ladders, and chains. After a while Gandalf stopped upon noticing silvery white lines in the rock face and gently touched them.

“The wealth of Moria is not in gold, or jewels, but Mithril,” he explained, shining his staff into the cavern below. Alphine looked down in awe, not even attempting to suppress her gasp at the intense abandoned mines. It was beautiful. The cavern, though initially dark, practically glowed now with the Mithril that had been embedded in the walls of the mine.

“Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him,” the Wizard continued.

“Oh, that was a Kingly gift,” Gimli spoke up in awe.

“Yes,” Gandalf agreed as they continued on. “I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire.”

The Fellowship made their way through the mines, crossing a precarious bridge and walking up steep stairs. They’d entered the cemetery cavern. Graves were despoiled and Dwarf skeletons were strewn about. Goblin graffiti had been scrawled on the monuments in what appeared to be dried Dwarf blood, creating a sinister atmosphere. Alphine tried not to shiver anxiously as they came upon a split in the passage, each of the three passages leading to darkened tunnels. Gandalf looked around silently.

“I have no memory of this place,” he informed the others gravely.

While Gandalf attempted to regain his memory of the mines everyone opted to take a break and rest momentarily. Alphine decided it was best to finally change into another pair of traveling clothes she’d (thankfully) brought along and used her magic to dry herself off. The boys remained respectful and faced away as she changed. Once she finished she retook her seat and informed the boys that they could look should they wish to. Everyone sort of broke off into their own conversations, leaving her to her own devices. She took the time to look at her ankle, which felt sore from the creature’s grip on her. She’d barely had time to look it over before she felt a presence beside her.

“Does it hurt?” Legolas asked softly. She examined her ankle for a moment then looked at him.

“It’ll be bruised for a bit, but I’ll live,” she shrugged.

“Is there anything I can do?” The Elf inquired, but the girl just shook her head with a small laugh.

“That is not necessary, but thank you,” she answered. “And I wanted to thank you for saving me earlier.”

“It is no problem. I… We could not just leave you behind,” Legolas responded in that same soft voice he always seemed to have no matter what mood he was in. The girl nodded, having no reason to say anything else. But then a thought occurred to her.

“May I ask you something?” She asked after a moment of silence, earning a nod from Legolas. “Have I done something to offend you?”The Elf looked surprised by her question as he shook his head.

“No, of course not.” His answer only resulted in more questions.

“Then why do you always look at me like you wish I wasn’t here and yet you’ve saved me twice since we’ve started the journey? Sure, I know it must be irritating to do so, but I don’t know if it warrants such fierce looks in my direction.

“It is not irritating,” he reassured her. “You just…. look familiar, that is all.” Alphine merely let out a small ‘oh.’ That was it? His answer didn’t quite satisfy her, but she didn’t want to push him since he graciously didn’t push her. She was ready to let it go, but then he spoke again.

“Have we met before? Recently, I mean?” The question admittedly caught her off guard and she turned to face him. He was already looking at her with curious eyes, something that she had gotten used to over the journey so far. This time was different though because now there was a spoken question behind those inquisitive eyes. For a minute Alphine stayed silent, attempting to go over any point she might have met him in the last hundred or so years.

“I don’t believe so,” she ultimately responded.

“You’ve never been to Mirkwood?” He added, to which she shook her head at.

“The closest I’ve been to your kingdom is Laketown.” The answer made him perk up.

“Laketown?” He repeated, making her nod.

“It was about sixty years ago,” she started her tale. “A terrible battle took place at the gates of Erebor, which stood on the other side of the lake. It was a war between Orcs, Dwarves, Men and I believe some Elves. I don’t remember all the details. Now, just because my kin doesn’t participate in war didn’t mean we couldn’t do our part in helping those who had been affected by it. I had gone along to help with any medical needs or clean up of the aftermath. It was a brutal sight, if I’m being honest. Too many were dead or injured for my liking, but there wasn’t really anything we could do.” She said the last part with a shrug, then quickly leaned back a bit as Legolas leaned forward while inspecting her face. Just moments later his eyebrows shot up as a look of realization washed over him.

“That’s where our paths crossed,” he exclaimed quietly, which made her furrow her brows. “‘In life they loved you dearly, and in death they will celebrate you.’ Do you remember saying that?” Alphine’s eyes widened.

Of course she remembered it. She didn’t think she’d ever forget it. Alphine had no idea why the death of Othelil Lathlaerilion had stayed with her all these years. Perhaps it was because she was the only one who had been with him before, during and after his passing. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was somebody else with them, but he had just been taking count of the remaining soldiers. He had stopped by to check on Othelil and she healed his arm.

“You were there with Othelil.” It wasn’t a question, more of a realization. Slowly, the Elf nodded.

“I was,” he responded before leaning closer to her. “You look much different than you did back then.” Alphine blushed at the observation and her smile faded as her gaze fell to her lap awkwardly.

“Yes, I’m afraid that is a story for a different time,” she muttered, voice much quieter than before. That coupled with the way she began to visually close herself off from him gave him the impression that she no longer wished to talk about it anymore, so he decided to drop the subject (much to her relief).

“Ah, it is that way,” Gandalf suddenly said, which caught everyone’s attention, as he stood up. The others followed his lead as hope filled them once again.

“He’s remembered,” Merry cheered softly, but Gandalf shook his head.

“No, but the air doesn’t smell so foul down here,” he corrected. “If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose.” Alphine laughed softly as the Elf beside her stood, facing her with an inviting hand. She took it gratefully and stood with his help for the second time that day. They walked side by side as they followed him through the doorway on the far right.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #legolas greenleaf #legolas imagine #legolas x oc

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headcannonballs · 11 months

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I might elaborate on these individual incidents on later posts but upon multiple viewings I can finally put words to why I hated the characterizations of multiple characters in the LotR movie trilogy.

It is because PJ & Co. 's favourite method of storytelling is to pull down side characters to build up their own heroes.

And I'm talking about the 'holy' trinity of Sam, Aragorn and Thorin.

Frankly, book readers should've seen it coming from a mile away.

So let's start with Sam. Raise your hand if you've ever seen any fan trumpeting that Sam is the 'real' hero. And nine out of ten, these fans were introduced into LotR through the movies. Congratulations Pete, you've succeeded!

Now before touching the Tolkien letter 'supporting' this idea (where if you read the full letter you'll understand Sam is only more of a chief hero when compared to a very specific character and that character is not Frodo *coughAragorncough*), I would like to draw attention to one simple fact - is there any other major character in the trilogy that has more of his flaws ignored, covered-up or outright repurposed to become a good quality? Because I come up with nothing.

Sam is the quintessential hobbit. He represents all their best traits - that assured loyalty, the steadfast friendship, the simple appreciation for nature. But he is also a representative of all of their worst traits - the closed-mindedness, the blind adherence to hierarchy and the prejudice against the lowly and the unknown.

But Sam does none of that!

Yeah, you'd be correct - if you only watched the movies. That is precisely the point.

The absolute heart of LotR is Frodo's journey, but Frodo is a 'terrible' male lead for a Fantasy themed action adventure film. He is a middle-aged man who sets out on a selfless journey to save the world (but not for himself). He doesn't have a dramatic character arc, majority of his battles are internal and require monologues, and the only visible sign of his burden is completely up to the polish of the individual actor's performance. For the epic type of film PJ planned, Frodo is a nightmare.

But there is an easy solution for this - Frodo is accompanied by Sam throughout the entire journey. Sam, unlike Frodo, has underdog written all over him. It is easy to make a character arc about a nobody becoming a somebody. He has a major battle one-to-one against a giant spider. He is allowed a large variety of emotions that don't require depth (excepting key moments) because he is meant to be simple-minded.

So what does PJ & Co. do?

They make Sam the main lead, of course. The beginning chapters are understandably condensed, but Sam still gets his 'dropping eaves on Mr. Frodo' part of the story untouched, whereas all of Frodo's planning, all of Merry's intelligence, and Pippin and Fatty's contributions were all cut out.

We soon meet Strider, and immediately Sam's foolhardiness is front and centre in the book. He looks down upon this lowly ranger and almost interrogates him only to have Strider illustrate how such behaviour could have easily gotten Sam and Frodo killed. It is Frodo who speaks with wisdom and questions Strider in a more moderate way.

And this entire farce of speaking out of turn happens again when they meet Faramir. Sam is not only not wise, his is foolish enough to make the exact same mistake twice. And similarly Faramir reprimands him and tells him not to speak before Frodo has spoken.

But instead of highlighting these incidents as a flaw Sam should learn to grow from, both times in the movies PJ instead frames the incidents as Sam being justified in his words and defence of Frodo. His bravado is praised as being a loyal friend, instead of the foolish actions they are.

But even with erasing Sam's faults, there is still a problem - Frodo. Frodo's relationship with Sam has become closer than master/servant, but there is still an inate imbalance (more due to Frodo's age and wisdom than anything else) to frame it as just simple friendship.

Personally I feel it is like Sam views Frodo as his senpai, his leading light. And Frodo wishes to guide Sam to learn new things, because Sam's presence as a quintessential hobbit is so much like home that he remains a constant comfort to Frodo no matter the burden of the One Ring.

But Frodo and Sam having a senpai-kouhai relationship is troublesome, because Frodo never leaves. He is the one Sam consistently depends on to lead him, and book!Sam's most major growth actually occurs after Frodo has left for the Undying Lands and Sam grows to become a capable Mayor.

So naturally Frodo has to be weakened to let Sam shine. Firstly, the age difference is removed completely, even going in the opposite direction - Sam is now older than Frodo and cares for him like an elder brother or butler. When faced with dangerous situations like the Nazgul or the troll, Sam is the fearless one instead of Frodo. Sam's wariness is always affirmed by the narrative and Frodo's wisdom in discerning people is putdown as blind kindness.

Nowhere is this more obvious than the Frodo-Sam-Gollum relationship.

In the book, Sam's wariness towards Gollum stems from both the creature's poor reputation, but also from petty jealousy. The threat of betrayal from Gollum is real, yes, but throughout the book Frodo has it under control. He never trusts Gollum more than he needed to, and in fact was winning Gollum's trust with his wisdom, kindness and fair-minded treatment.

But Sam had different ideas. Before Gollum, Sam had always been the closest to Mr. Frodo, not only because of their close relationship, but also because Sam sees himself as the most useful to Frodo. Sure, Merry and Pippin and friends, but neither can serve Mr. Frodo the way he can. Until Gollum.

Gollum is brought in as an indispensable guide and Sam immediately feels threatened. He doesn't actually physically threaten Gollum, but instead resorts to childish name-calling to put Gollum down. He constantly wished to assert dominance over Gollum, to show he is closer to Frodo no matter how good a job Gollum does. Sam basically just wants to 'put him in his lowly place'.

It is this relentless bullying that ends up destroying Gollum's redemption (something also in a Tolkien letter, but Sam fans won't bring this one up), and forces the destruction of the ring to be 'an act of God' instead of Gollum's own will.

This is the biggest flaw in Sam - that he is quick to judge and slow to pity, a trait highly unsuitable for a ringbearer, much less the 'main' hero. This is also the main reason for Frodo's character change and the dynamics change in the relationship between all three.

It is extremely difficult to just cut out all the antagonistic actions Sam has taken against Gollum, so instead the path PJ & Co. took is to 'make Sam right'.

Instead of Frodo being in control and trying to make Sam and Gollum get along, make it that Frodo is the helpless one and being pulled in two different directions. Sam, being the hero, is correct. And Gollum naturally has to be wrong. Frodo, because of the 'evil influence of the Ring' chooses wrongly and believes Gollum, giving rise to the infamous "Sam, go home" scene.

This change of the relationship dynamics both strengthens Sam's moral position as well as weakens Frodo's wisdom. And to PJ & Co. that is a good thing, because now Sam is truly the main lead.

I'll think I continue Aragorn and Thorin another day, but you can be assured that PJ & Co. just uses the same tricks again *coughFaramirandThranduilcough*.

#lord of the rings movies #lotr book spoilers #frodo baggins #in defense of Frodo #samwise gamgee #quintessential hobbit #damn but i really hate the characterizations in these movies #if you think Sam is flawless #read the damn book again

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mmorgmatrix · 2 years

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Le Guin, Los Angeles Times–bestselling author of Changing Planes). Tolkien: “A most valuable and timely book” (Ursula K. By turns comic and homely, epic and diabolic, the narrative moves through countless changes of scene and character in an imaginary world which is totally convincing in its detail.ĬLICK HERE TO GET BOOK Book Defending Middle-Earth Description/Summary:Ī scholar explores the ideas within The Lord of the Rings and the world created by J. JRR Tolkien's great work of imaginative fiction has been labelled both a heroic romance and a classic fantasy fiction. And all the time the armies of the Dark Lord are massing. After a battle with the giant spider, Shelob, Sam left his master for dead but Frodo is still alive - in the hands of the orcs. Meanwhile, Sam and Frodo progressed towards Mordor to destroy the Ring, accompanied by Sméagol - Gollum, still obsessed by his 'preciouss'. Gandalf returned, miraculously, and defeated the evil wizard, Saruman. Merry and Pippin, captured by orcs, escaped into Fangorn Forest and there encountered the Ents. Aragorn, revealed as the hidden heir of the ancient Kings of the West, joined with the Riders of Rohan against the forces of Isengard, and took part in the desperate victory of the Hornburg. The Companions of the Ring have become involved in separate adventures as the quest continues. Reviews.Ĭategory : Baggins, Frodo (Fictitious character)ĬLICK HERE TO GET BOOK Book The Return of the King Description/Summary: BFMEII received generally favorable reviews from video game critics. With his army, Sauron moves forward with his plan to destroy the remaining Good forces in the North. In the Evil Campaign, Sauron sends the Mouth of Sauron and the Nazgul to muster wild Goblins. With help from the Dwarves and other Good forces, the Elves attempt to eliminate Sauron and his army to restore peace in Middle-earth. The Good Campaign focuses on Glorfindel, an Elf who is alerted to a planned attack on the Elven sanctuary of Rivendell. The story for BFMEII is divided into Good and Evil Campaigns.

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The online servers were shut down for Windows in 2010 and Xbox 360 in 2011. Along with the standard edition, a Collector's Edition of the game was released, containing bonus material and a documentary about the game's development. The Windows version of the game was released on Maand the Xbox 360 version was released on July 5, 2006. The game is the sequel to Electronic Arts' 2004 title The Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-earth. Tolkien and its live-action film trilogy adaptation. It is based on the fantasy novels The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit by J. Excerpt: The Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-earth II, abbreviated BFMEII, is a real-time strategy video game developed and published by Electronic Arts. Chapters: Guardians of Middle-earth, Lego The Lord of the Rings: The Video Game, The Lord of the Rings: Conquest, The Lord of the Rings: Tactics, The Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-earth, The Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-earth II, The Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-earth II: The Rise of the Witch-king, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (video game), The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (video game), The Lord of the Rings (pinball).

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wildwarcat · 2 years

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Hello!! How are you? I was wondering if I may request a Legolas x Reader where reader is inhumanly fast and strong, but appears quite dainty? (Maybe she lifts someone off the ground by their neck and Leggy is just ????) And Reader has to explain that she’s something supernatural? I love Supernatural readers, it’s my favorite trope :D Anyways, feel free to ignore!!!

At the moment, I'm not ignoring any requests that have already been sent to me. However, the turn around time for requests may take a bit longer due to me being a full-time college student. Translations are at the bottom, btw. Enjoy!

P.S. With the new copyright bullsh*t going on with the Tolkien Estate, it should be noted that all credit for plots, characters, languages, really anything that is familiar to you, belongs to the Tolkien Estate until the works of J.R.R. Tolkien become public domain. I own nothing familiar to you.

Something Wicked (Legolas x Skinchanger!Reader)

Summary: During your pursuit of Merry and Pippin, a run-in with some rogue Uruk-Hai reveals abilities previously unknown to the Hunters. And your abilities seem to have caught the eye of a certain prince.

You were always adept at keeping who you were well under wraps. Your ‘other side’ had been the reason for being exiled from your home village and leaving you wandering alone in the North. But there was just something about the Uruk-Hai that made you lose control of yourself.

Maybe it was the fact that they had just slaughtered Boromir and stolen Merry and Pippin right from under you. Maybe it was because Saruman, a man whom you once trusted, had created an army of Uruk-Hai in the name of Sauron. Or perhaps it was because you were now forced to chase the horde of monsters across Rohan on foot and had been short on food and sleep for days now.

Whatever the cause for your frustration had been, it didn’t matter anymore. What did matter was the fight in front of you. A handful of the Uruk-Hai had decided to slow you down, stopping you and the Hunters at a small outcropping of rock. And though your skills with a sword and shield were admirable, you soon found yourself weaponless, your shield splintered and strewn across the rocks.

A pair of the ugly beasts had you cornered between the outcropping’s cliffside and themselves, forcing you ever closer to the cliff’s edge. Beyond where you were, Gimli and Legolas were keeping themselves entertained, creating a head count of the monsters they killed, while Aragorn fought on his own below the cliff, trying to keep his eyes on the horde that carried the Hobbits.

You felt a foot slip underneath you, but caught yourself just in time before you were sent over the edge of the cliff. You had nowhere else to go.

“Silly little human,” one of the Uruk-Hai growled, “Time to die.”

‘No.’ You heard your other half say in your head, ‘Not today.’

Your eyes flashed silver, and suddenly you found yourself watching your actions from a distance. You let out a vicious roar, your face shifting to that of a black wolf, your limbs turning to paws, your teeth turning sharp and jagged.

When Legolas and Gimli finally found themselves out of Uruk-Hai to kill, they both looked up to see you now towering over the pair of creatures that had cornered you.

“By the Gods, is that... Y/N?” Gimli asked, his axe falling from his hands. Legolas stood frozen in place as you grabbed one of the Uruk-Hai with your teeth and threw him over the cliffside. Your silver eyes turned their attention to the second creature, who dropped his battle axe and ran. You moved to run him down, but Legolas had snapped from his stupor and sent a single arrow through the beast’s eye, bringing him down before you reached all fours.

You growled, your eyes locking on the elf. He shouldered his bow and held up his hands.

“Y/N, it’s us. Your friends. Please... come back to us.” He gently pleaded.

You snarled, bearing your teeth as he began to step toward you slowly. The fur on your back began to stand up as you began to crouch.

“Y/N, please. It’s me, it’s Legolas. Gilgalad, come back to me,” the elven prince begged, “Ceri- ú- let hi radag take cin awaui o nin.”

The growling stopped, you straightened up on your paws and cocked your head. Your wolf form seemed to understand Sindarin, though your human side did not.

“It’s listening to you, lad!” Gimli called out, “Keep talking!”

Legolas stepped ever closer to you, extending his hand to you, “Im mel cin, Y/N. Im gar- an months. Im tur-'t bróg na lose cin like hi. Please, mel nin, come back to me.”

Your eyes softened, your ears flicked gently in the direction of the dwarf and the elf. Legolas stepped forward, closing the gap between you. Cautiously, he stretched out his hand, allowing you to meet him by pressing your head into his palm. You stood for a moment in silence, before releasing a deep breath and feeling your body shift. Legolas withdrew his hand and in moments, you had returned to your human form, fully clothed with only the silver of the wolf’s eyes remaining, though that too soon faded away.

From behind you, Aragorn’s grunts and hurried footsteps drew your attention. The heir of Isildur came to a halt some ways away from you and Legolas, a tired smile upon his weary face.

“So you’ve finally told them?” He asked you.

“Showed them is more like it.” You replied, “Though I had hoped I could restrain myself until we had caught up to the hobbits.”

“You knew?” Legolas asked, pointing his gaze at Aragorn, “You knew all this time and said nothing?”

“It was not my secret to tell,” The ranger answered calmly, “It was Y/N’s.”

Gimli rested himself upon his axe, “Well then don’t keep us in suspense. Out with it!”

“I’m a skinchanger. One of two that remain in Middle-Earth.” You explained, doing your best to ignore the awestruck stare that the elvish prince was sending your way, “The other, Beorn, resides between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood, taking form of a great bear. My family’s ancestral home lied within the territory of the wargs. It is because of them that I am all that remains. But you have nothing to fear from my wolf; it will not harm you. It craves only the blood of wargs, orcs, and Uruk-Hai.”

With that, the dwarf was satisfied, hoisting up his axe and following Aragorn in the direction of the Uruk-Hai still in possession of Merry and Pippin. Legolas made to follow them, but before he could take a step, your hand made its way around his arm.

“Did you mean it?” You asked, your voice trembling ever so slightly. Legolas arched a brow at your question.

“The wolf. It translates for me.” You clarified, your eyes pleading, “Did you mean what you said?”

The elf smiled and pulled you to him, pressing a gentle kiss into your hair, “Every word, mel nin. Every single word.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Ceri- ú- let hi radag take cin awaui o nin -- Do not let this beast take you away from me.

Im mel cin, Y/N -- I love you, Y/N.

Im gar- an months. Im tur-'t bróg na lose cin like hi. -- I have for months. I can’t bear to lose you like this.

Mel nin -- my love

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heliads · 2 years

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hi hello yes could i have more platonic aragorn father figure ty very much :) hope your day is going well!

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You pause, your hand on the doorknob. This could go very bad, very fast, so it is imperative that you get this right. There are lives at stake, after all. There is no room for error, not now. Not today.

You allow yourself one slow breath in and out, then strike, quick as a rattling viper. The door flies open under your touch, you whirl inside, and are confronted with four surprised hobbits and one man dressed in a dark cloak. If anything were to set you off guard, just slightly, it’s that the hobbits look to this man for aid, even though you’re fairly certain that they were just kidnapped.

The door closes behind you and the dark-cloaked man leaps into action. A sword is in his hands before you even heard him unsheathe it. He points the tip at your throat, but you rush forward and slam the pommel of your weapon into his forearm, distracting him without making a noise that would alert the other residents of this inn, such as the clanging of steel against steel.

The man growls a question at you, half belligerent and half bewildered. “Who are you? Are you in league with those who wish these hobbits harm?”

You can feel your face twist with confusion. “I’m here to save them from you.”

The man draws back, although he keeps his sword extended. “Why would you save them from me? I wish only to help them.”

You arch a brow. “I saw you take them from the Prancing Pony. I don’t know what you said to make them go with you, but they all looked afraid. You could have been issuing threats for all I know.”

The man shakes his head slowly. “I knew of a plot on their lives and meant to wrest them from its darkened grasp, no more.”

He sounds genuine, which only makes your suspicion grow. Men can do nothing better than lie; many believe that was the first art they learned in the cradle and all others are mere trivialities.

“Pippin left a tankard half full of mead at his place in the inn. He would never give up a good drink willingly.”

Pippin, somewhere to your left, manages to break his shocked silence long enough to laugh quietly. “That is true.”

The man shoots him an exasperated look, then turns back to you. “I meant to save them, and I did. Why were you sent here, and how did you know of the hobbits’ passage through these parts?”

You hesitate for a moment, breathing slowly in the shallow quiet, but decide to trust him with the truth after all. “I ran into Bilbo Baggins a few days ago. He was out traveling through the forest paths, but seemed very different from his usual character. It was as if he had lost some crucial part of himself but was forcing himself to survive without it. He said that he feared his nephew would be undertaking a task of the gravest consequence and I was to help them if I saw them.”

A furrow deepens between the man’s brows, deep as the line of a plow through freshly planted earth. “You know Bilbo?”

Frodo takes this opportunity to step forward, albeit hesitantly. “Yes, it’s true. Bilbo has had her over for tea a matter of times before. I believe he met an ancestor of hers in Laketown many decades ago.”

The man looks between you and Frodo, then sighs, relenting. “You mean no harm, then.”

You regard him suspiciously. “Only if you mean no harm.”

He spreads his hands as if to make that point obvious, then puts away his sword. “I can prove it to you, if you like. Come over here to the window.”

He strides briskly across the room to hover by a lead-paned window, one that’s only just started to fog up from frost. It provides a good vantage point for the rest of the town, which is likely why the man chose this room to stay for the night.

The man points out the inn you saw the hobbits frequenting earlier, the Prancing Pony. “That room in the corner closest to us, second floor, would have been theirs.”

As you watch, dark shapes move slowly in the room, as if living shadows walk where the hobbits should have been. There’s one brief flash of movement, something that looks like the glint of moonlight of steel, and then an enraged howling pierces the night.

It is a terrible sound, and chills your very blood. Something out there in the night is absolutely furious, and its anger seems more ancient than even the oldest human towns.

You turn back to the man. “What is that?”

The man’s lips are pressed thin. “Those are the Ringwraiths. Do you see now why I had to hide the hobbits away?”

You nod slowly. “I believe I do.” You pause, then continue. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N L/N.”

Something almost like a smile flickers over the man’s face. “They call me Strider. I would recommend that you take the chair in the corner of the room, it would do to have at least a little rest before the morning.”

You do as he suggests, placing your traveling bag near the crudely carved wooden feet of the armchair. It’s a little overstuffed, or perhaps overworn, as patches of stuffing are visible through the threadbare upholstery. All the same, it looks as though it shouldn’t be too hard as to be uncomfortable.

“Why, what happens come morning?”

Strider glances back at you from where he’s retaken his watchful position by the window. “Well, we set out, of course. You are welcome to stay here, but I assumed that your dedication to keeping your word to Bilbo would indicate that you wished to go with us.”

A delighted grin rises to your face before you can hide it. “I would like nothing more.”

An adventure awaits you, then. How wonderful! It shall be dangerous, you’ve seen that from the Ringwraiths alone, but that doesn’t make it any less thrilling in your mind. All the best journeys have some threat of peril, don’t they?

You shake your head slowly, a soft smile remaining on your face even after you close your eyes for the night. It shall be a fantastic adventure, of that you can be certain.

You definitely seem to enjoy it more than the hobbits. As the first morning of travel wears on and it becomes apparent that they’ll have to give up their favorite trappings of second breakfasts and rest hours, complaints begin to pop up like weeds underfoot.

You, however, have no problems with walking. You stay by Strider’s side the whole time, eagerly asking questions about where it is that you’re going and what he plans to do. You do your best to not get on his nerves, but he appears to like the company, and asks you some things of his own, like how you got to know Bilbo and why the bond between you and the elder hobbit would have been strong enough for you to attempt to kill the kidnapper of Frodo and his friends.

When night falls, the hobbits all look exhausted from a hard day’s travel, and Strider urges them to get some rest while he scouts around the campsite. You prepare yourself to stay with the hobbits, yet he gestures for you to follow him, saying something about how it’s important for you to learn the basics of tracking in case something happens. You doubt that he’d let anything happen, but still. Important life lessons.

Strider knows what he’s talking about, too. He seems to find signs in the barest curl of a leaf, and what seems to be an ordinary patch of the forest is riddled with indicators to a passage of deer. Here, many stalks of tall wild grass are broken, there, long scraping against tree bark could show a young buck trying to deal with newly acquired antlers. It’s as if the wilderness is a symphony, and he can pick out each chord and scale with ease. Right now, it’s a confusing bewilderment of notes to you, but you’re starting to see the patterns.

About half an hour into the scouting venture, Strider stops stock-still. “Do you smell that?”

You shake your head, not quite sure what he means. Strider cocks his head to the side as if trying to he’s something.

“I swear there’s smoke here, like from a campfire.”

His face pinches with horror as he says the last bit, and both of you turn in unison to stare at the place where you’d left the hobbits. One tendril of smoke is just starting to waft up, and a bright spark of flame is visible despite the distance and foliage. It’s quickly put out, but the damage is down.

Strider’s mouth twists down in one sharp motion. “The Ringwraiths will have seen them, I know it. Listen to me now. There is an elf-maiden somewhere in the forest near here. She’ll know you because I know you, and she’ll find you just as well. Get to her, and tell her that the wraiths are after us. We cannot run from them forever, especially not now.”

You nod your assent and tear off into the forest. Strider goes the other way, surging towards the place you’d last seen the hobbits. A moment later, he’s gone, and you are all alone with nothing but your pounding heartbeat to guide you.

You realize that you have no idea how to find this elf, nor how you’ll know it’s her, but that doesn’t matter much. Your feet pound on unpacked earth, but even the sharpest thorns couldn’t stop you now.

There’s a burst of movement as you round a rather large oak, and you skid to a stop. You’re in a small clearing of sorts, but you’re not alone. A hooded figure stands across from you, gnarled and crooked fingers curved around a sword.

Even from here, you’re faced with this overwhelming feeling telling you to run. It rises in your throat like bile, choking out all thoughts except running, and running now. You want to go, but your feet stand firm. You’re here to find somebody, and you will not let Strider down.

Your one advantage now is that the Ringwraith does not seem entirely interested in you, more like it’s trying to figure out if you could be harboring hobbits. You suspect that it was sent back here to cut off potential avenues of escape, not to kill errant travelers.

Your hand closes around something in a pouch at your belt, and you recognize it as your flint and steel. There’s a fallen branch at your feet, and you reach for it slowly, as if you’re being watched by a bear. Quickly, you scrape the flint and steel just hard enough to form one spark. Then again, one spark is all you need.

The wood is dry, parched from a lack of rain, and it catches fire easily. The Ringwraith rears back from the sudden flame, then begins to move towards you, slowly, as if pushing through water up to its throat.

You, however, are fast, and unburdened by the force of your fear. You thrust the torch towards it, then slash your sword at the same time while it’s distracted. You won’t be able to hold it forever, but all you really care about right now is surviving long enough to get away.

You see a flicker of movement through the trees, and hope begins to return to you in bright-eyed force. You launch the torch towards the Ringwraith as hard as you can. The being rears back, stunned just long enough for a curved sword to appear out of nowhere and slash at its throat. The wraith disappears, although you’re not sure that it’s dead, just gone for now.

In its place is an elven woman astride a tall horse. She looks at you, a scowl marring her fierce brow, and you know her instantly. “You’re Strider’s friend.”

She smiles, and the sudden change in her expression is as swift as a night breeze pushing storm clouds away from the moon. “I believe that is a fair description.”

You point back towards the way you’d come. “He needs help. We’ve been caught by more of the wraiths and he’s trying to protect the hobbits.”

Her expression shutters in moments. “Ride with me.”

You accept her hand up onto her horse, and she starts off in a hurry. You move so fast that you swear you might arrive back at the campsite before you even issued the warning, like she traveled back in time from her sheer speed. The wind roughens your cheeks, but it is an altogether inhuman rush and therefore one of the best experiences you’ve ever had in your life.

By the time you reach Strider, he’s already dispatched the remainder of the Ringwraiths, although he still seems worried. Moments later, you figure out why- Frodo is huddled on the ground, stabbed by one of the wraiths’ cursed blades.

Strider addresses the elf as Arwen, and you can tell instantly that they’ve known each other for quite a long time. She smiles when she speaks to him, even despite the grave danger, as if the sight of him alone could cure her of any harm.

“Give me the hobbit, I can bring him home far faster than your party.” She calls to him.

Strider inclines his head to brush against hers, and you get the distinct feeling that you are witnessing something that was not meant for your eyes. You turn to head toward the hobbits, although just before you walk away you hear Arwen speak once more.

“I quite like your latest traveling companion, you know. They tried to take on a Ringwraith alone and likely would have won.”

You don’t catch the rest, as you’re speaking to a very distraught Sam, but soon enough Strider comes over to help Frodo up onto Arwen’s horse. The rest of you will walk to Rivendell, the fabled city of the elves.

As per usual, Strider turns to speak to you as you travel. “You really attempted to fight a Ringwraith?”

He is doing his best to seem chiding, sort of like a strict teacher who’s more inclined to wrap your knuckles than give out praise, although the whole image is belied by the proud smile that refuses to leave his lips.

You grin. “I did. I would consider it rather frightened by me. I was, of course, hugely intimidating.”

Strider nods slowly. “I wouldn’t blame it. You’ll enjoy Rivendell, I think. I did when I was your age.”

It’s such a kind thing to stay that it makes your whole outlook brighten. Somehow, you did enough right that this man, who seems leagues better at just about everything, would look at you and be reminded of himself. Perhaps you have a long way to go, but perhaps one day you could match even him for skill.

“I think I’ll enjoy it quite a bit.”

lotr/hobbit tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

Text

Imagine helping Legolas deal with a sprained ankle

It was all your fault, so Legolas would say.

“If you hadn’t had been so reckless, I wouldn’t have had to jump down from the boulder to assist you with the orc,” he’d complain regularly, from his position forcibly laying down in his sleeping pack with an elevated foot.

Whenever he’d try to rise again to bicker louder with you, a tending Aragorn would push him down again with a hand to his chest.

It was funny the first few days, you couldn’t lie, but now? Well, now it was just sad.

Legolas prided himself on his athletic ability, that much was obvious to you and the rest of the Fellowship early into your journey.

He’d regularly prance ahead like a young foal, or walk across snow with a smug smirk on his face. He was the strongest member there, and never let anyone forget it. This is also why he took injury the worst out of everyone.

It wasn’t, in all actuality, technically your fault. You needed help with an orc, yes, but Legolas timing his jump wrong and spraining his ankle had nothing to do with you.

Alas, he was gaining cabin fever from his immobilised state, therefore anger was bubbling in his chest—directed at you. You didn’t take it personally, but it was starting to wear down on you.

The walks through the days were slower, as Legolas would limp along with a homemade walking stick, fashioned out of a long branch.

Whenever he’d notice you or someone else looking at him over his shoulder, as he bared his teeth in wincing hurt, he’d quickly glare and push on harder.

You’d softly shake your head, but look away regardless.

It was unnatural to see an elf in such a state, like roses freezing over. Even more so, it was unnatural to see Legolas so grumpy. He was quite light-hearted at the beginning of the journey—you remember making a mental note that he’d probably be one of the best to hang around with due to so.

Alas, his sprained ankle and no doubt self-inflicted embarrassment brought the deeply rooted competitiveness out within him.

You were all sat around a fire tonight (save for Boromir and Gimli, who were off scouting the area), like many other evenings—laughing and pulling rabbit meat off of a skewer.

Legolas was a few yards away, pouting in his sleeping bag. You had brought his food to him a few minutes earlier, but he turned you away and claimed he wasn’t hungry.

“You’ll need sustenance to heal, little elf,” you laughed, trying to humour him.

All you received was a gruff grunt, and, “Don’t tell me how elves heal—I’m quite aware of my own race, thank you very much.”

You heard Pippin hissing through a wince, and bared your own teeth in cringe as you turned on your heel and headed back towards the campfire.

“Pay him no mind,” Aragorn said, leaning across to you. “Elves, especially the Mirkwood strain, are very prideful folk. He’ll come to his senses once his foot heals.”

“I can’t imagine it’ll heal anytime soon if he keeps pushing himself every day like he’s doing,” you pointed out.

Aragorn sighed. “That is entirely Thranduil’s blood coming out in him.”

“Remind me to never step foot in Mirkwood then,” you grinned.

Aragorn gave a toothy smile back, and bonked his skewer with yours in a “cheers to that” motion.

You could feel Legolas’ eyes burning into the back of your head, but paid it no mind. You didn’t dare glance over your shoulder, lest Mordor freeze over.

The rest of the camp continued on in low chatter, that is until Boromir and Gimli came rushing back—completely out of breath.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked right away.

“Orc scouts,” Boromir answered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Thirty, give or take, approaching from the west.”

The camp looked around at each other quickly in fright, before Aragorn jumped into action. Rising to his feet, he grabbed his sword and dictated everyone else to do the same.

“We’ll meet them half way and use the element of surprise,” he said.

Legolas began rising to his own feet, though, a great deal of strained effort was noticeable on his end.

“I’m coming, I just need to get my bow,” Legolas announced, barely able to move the foot resting on a sleeping pack.

“No, not you, mellon nîn,” said Aragorn, upholding a hand and motioning for Legolas to lay down again. “Please, stay behind. Though your valiance is admirable, you will only get in the way of this fight. Rest, and fight when your ankle heals.”

Legolas’ face contorted in hurt, and you imagined this was the first time the athletic prince had ever been sidelined.

You all stood around in misplaced guilt, fiddling with your swords and avoiding eye contact with Legolas.

Finally, the elf’s jaw set, and he forcibly fell back down into sheets—turning over and pulling the covers up over his shoulder.

“We can’t leave him vulnerable,” Sam pointed out, whispering quietly as to not anger Legolas further. However, you could see his pointed ears twitching back, and knew he heard every gut-punching word.

Aragorn nodded, and turned his eyes to you. The hobbits had to stay under the protection of Aragorn, and leaving Frodo and the Ring out of sight and alone behind in the camp simply wasn’t an option.

Aragorn gestured between you and Legolas discreetly. Understanding his words, you dropped your shoulders and sighed.

“I’ll stay back and tend to the camp,” you announced.

The rest of the Fellowship gave you an apologetic look, before running off into the forest towards the orcs.

You were soon left with the silence of the camp, save for the angered breathing of Legolas and the crackling of the dimming fire.

Stood there unsure of what to do in the awkward space, you continued fiddling with the pommel of your sword, and looked at Legolas.

His back was rising and falling quickly—clearly infuriated with the whole situation. You felt bad for him, you really did, but you were still unsure of how to approach him.

Looking down to the fire again, you saw untouched skewers of meat, and arrived at a resolution.

With the food in hand, you walked over to the prince. He could hear you coming, and with every crunch of your boots on the foliage, his eyes twitched.

Sitting down beside his back, you placed a hand on the broad of his shoulder and shook him gently. “The rabbit smells really good, and has that beautiful, slightly charred smoky taste. Seems a waste to not eat it, no?”

“Not hungry,” Legolas grumbled.

“You need to heal your ankle, Legolas,” you said again, this time sterner. “You need to ea—”

“Not. Hungry.”

Thinning your lips, you shook your head down at Legolas in disappointment. “Legolas, I know you’re upset with me regarding your ankle, but holding a grudge isn’t going to—”

He swiftly turned over in his pack, and stared at the dimming fire.

“We need more firewood,” he said, glaring at the dying flames.

You followed his line of sight, and noticed he was indeed right. However, you recalled the orcs and what Aragorn expected of you.

“We’ll just have to wait for the others. I can’t leave the camp to fetch more, and I definitely can’t leave you vulnerable to—”

“Ugh! I’ll do it myself!” Legolas exclaimed. He rose swiftly and tried limping out into the woods with clenched fists and squared shoulders.

“Legolas!” you called, quickly grabbing your sword and cursing under your breath. “Wait! You shouldn’t be on that ankle!”

But he was already marching on.

Heading a few strides out into the forest, Legolas went farther and farther to find the best firewood. You ran behind him, surprised he could go so far for someone who was injured.

“Wait!” you yelled again, finally jumping out in front of him. “Go back to sleep, Legolas. Now.”

He merely glared at you, and stepped around your form—pushing on.

Groaning in frustration, you turned around and pulled on his shoulder. “I’m serious, Legolas! There are orcs out here at the moment, and I need to stay by the camp!”

“Then you can go back,” Legolas growled, forcibly shoving your hand off of his shoulder. “I don’t need to be babysat by you.”

“No,” you agreed, “but you do need my help with your ankle!”

Grabbing the bottom of his cloak, you started pulling him back towards the camp.

“Let go!” he shouted, digging his one good heel into the ground and pulling his cape back—initiating a tug of war between you both.

“No!” you denied, pulling the cloak again. “You’re coming back with me, and that’s final!”

“NO!” Pull. “I’m helping by getting firewood!”

Yank. “You’re not helping at all! You’re putting me in a tough situation instead!”

“It’s not your problem!” Tug.

“Yes, it is!” you exclaimed, pulling the cloak one more time. “It is my problem, because you’ve become a HUGE problem for the entire Fellowship!”

Upon pulling one last time, Legolas lost his footing and tripped, causing you both to fall down.

You each groaned in pain as your backs were sprawled across the foliage. Legolas was the first to sit up, but immediately yelped in pain as he did so.

He held his ankle tight, and bared his teeth as to stop himself from crying out.

“It’s worse,” he whispered, avoiding your eyes. “My ankle—I think I hurt it more.”

You stared at Legolas in horror, as he clutched said sore ankle. You sat up next to him, and ran a finger along it.

He jolted immediately, and fought back another cry by biting down on his bottom lip.

“Dammit, Legolas…” you cursed, furrowing your brows and shaking your head. “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me? You need to rest.”

Upon glaring up at him, you were taken aback, for there were unshed tears in the elf’s eyes. He was clearly holding himself back from letting them fall, as he sniffled and studied his ankle.

“Legolas?” you called softly, reaching a hand up and gently directing his chin to face you. “What’s going on with you?”

Letting the first tear fall, and swallowing the lump in his throat, Legolas spoke up in a quiet voice—finally unbottling his emotions.

“I’m supposed to be the athlete,” he said, studying your eyes before looking down again. “I was always the best in training. I’ve pushed myself through rain, mud and more, because I’ve always been the best. And now? Now I can’t even fetch firewood for my friends...”

Sympathy overtook your eyes, as you suddenly understood the elf.

“You still are the best here, Legolas,” you promised, trying to catch his eyes as he averted them. “A sprained ankle means nothing in the grand scheme of it. You are, without a doubt, the strongest one of us here. None of us think differently of you simply because you’re hurt.”

“But I feel so useless!” he exclaimed, letting a few more tears fall. “My friends are out there right now pulling their own weight against the orcs, and I’m stuck here crying on the ground because I can’t even walk.”

“But you will walk again,” you assured him, turning his chin once more. “And when that day comes—which isn’t too far off, mind you—those orcs will wish they hadn’t ever left Mordor.”

You laughed brightly for a moment in afterthought, earning a smile from Legolas.

“What?” he asked gently.

“Do you remember how you took that cave troll down in Moria?” you chuckled again, thinking of the memory. “You scaled atop the darn thing and shot two arrows into its brain!”

“Three…” Legolas sheepishly corrected, now grinning in a shy way.

“Three,” you annulled, grinning back up at him. “Trust me, Legolas. Your friends think nothing less of you than pure amazing talent. Don’t let it eat away at you.”

Legolas nodded to himself for a moment, before another sheepish grin formed on his lips. “Speaking of eating…are there any of those rabbit meat skewers still left back at camp?”

You smiled warmly, and helped him up.

He tentatively accepted your aid, and slowly wrapped an arm over your shoulder, as you helped him limp back to camp.

“C’mon, athlete. Let’s get you some food.”

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middle-earth-mythopoeia · 3 years

Text

On Fingon rescuing Maedhros and why it’s so touching

Long before, in the bliss of Valinor, before Melkor was unchained, or lies came between them, Fingon had been close in friendship with Maedhros; and though he knew not yet that Maedhros had not forgotten him at the burning of the ships, the thought of their ancient friendship stung his heart.

I cannot stop thinking about this scene even though I read it for the first time about 15 years ago. It’s one of the most moving scenes in the Silmarillion, and that’s saying a lot. I know it’s been talked to death, but there’s a reason for that; I think it stands out among other similar stories in the history of Middle-earth. There are many rescues in Tolkien’s works, and all of them are examples of selflessness and bravery, but there are key differences that make Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros unlike anything else.

Most of the time, when one character rescues another, it’s because their relationship is already strong, and the goodness of the person being saved is not in question: Finrod fighting the werewolf to save Beren, and Lúthien freeing Beren from Tol-in-Gaurhoth; Beleg rescuing Túrin from the Orcs; Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli setting out to save Merry and Pippin from the Uruk-hai; Sam rescuing Frodo from the tower of Cirith Ungol; Gandalf and Pippin saving Faramir from Denethor; Gandalf and the Eagles rescuing Frodo and Sam from Mount Doom. Of course, I’m sure that Gandalf would have saved Sméagol too, had he lived—which is important. There are probably other examples I’m not thinking of.

In other cases, such as Glorfindel saving Frodo, the characters don’t know each other before the rescue, but there is no doubt of the goodness of the person being saved and the necessity of saving them.

Fingon and Maedhros are different.

“The thought of their ancient friendship” implies that Fingon’s friendship with Maedhros is a thing of the past when he sets out to rescue him from Thangorodrim. Fingon almost certainly believes that Maedhros deserted him and his family, forcing them to either turn back to Valinor (to beg the Valar to pardon them despite the Doom of Mandos), or cross the seemingly impassable Helcaraxë—and cross it they do, with many deaths. Just the memory of their friendship hurt because Fingon believed that Maedhros betrayed him. But what does he do as soon as he finds out Maedhros has been captured? He goes to rescue him, alone. “Justly renowned” indeed.

Even before the burning of the ships, Fingon’s friendship with Maedhros was strained by the rift between their fathers, and “lies came between them.” Fëanor drew his sword and threatened Fingolfin, and then Maedhros sided with him by following him into exile, which must have hurt Fingon. It’s not clear if they had a chance to speak to each other face to face until after the Darkening of Valinor. They were both present in Tirion during the Oath and the debate that followed, but I think there was too much happening for them to resolve anything, if they spoke at all. And then the Kinslaying was unfolding, and Fëanor deserted Fingolfin’s host in Araman. So, even if Fingon and Maedhros had a chance to speak during Fëanor’s exile or the flight of the Noldor, there were years of estrangement that they did not have a chance to fully heal before the burning of the ships.

After all of this, the rescue really says something about both their characters: Fingon’s selflessness, steadfastness, bravery, and refusal to condemn others, and Maedhros’ ability to inspire that loyalty, even when their friendship was at the breaking point. Maedhros had more in common with Nerdanel than with Fëanor, more of her gentleness and patience, and I think Fingon knew him for who he really was. He saw the good in Maedhros when Maedhros probably didn’t even see it himself. Despite everything that had happened, despite their estrangement, Fingon decided without a moment’s hesitation that Maedhros was worth risking his own life for. And it’s impossible to overstate the sheer bravery of going to Angband alone to rescue someone.

From Maedhros’ perspective, everything has been going from bad to worse. There is a seemingly unsolvable rift among his family, he becomes estranged from his best friend (partly due to his own actions), the Two Trees are killed, Finwë is murdered (both a personal loss and a major complication for the political situation), the Silmarils are stolen (symbolizing everything the Noldor have lost), he swears the Oath—believing it is righteous—and then he sees how destructive and wrong the path is that Fëanor is leading him down, both through the Kinslaying and the burning of the ships. I think that by the time Maedhros is watching the ships burn he regrets many of his actions, but it’s too late. And then it gets worse: he loses his father (complicated though their relationship must be at this point, I don’t think Maedhros wanted Fëanor to die), and then he is captured and tortured. How did Maedhros feel, when he heard Fingon’s song? Because after such terrible things had happened, in which he himself took part, the fact that a former friend came to his rescue had to seem nearly unbelievable.

But Fingon is also a Kinslayer; he joined the battle without knowing how it started, but he still has innocent blood on his hands. That Fingon, a Kinslayer, begs for mercy for another Kinslayer, is just another thing that makes the rescue so touching. Fingon doesn’t pray to Manwë to save Maedhros: he prays to Manwë to give Maedhros a painless death. And the result is eucatastrophe: the rescue is possible after all.

And Fingon’s refusal to condemn Maedhros—instead, his decision to march into Morgoth’s domain to rescue him—allows for things still greater to unfold, like the healing of the strife among the Noldor. It’s significant that Fingon’s rescue—and Maedhros’ abdication of the crown to Fingolfin—heals the rift between their houses, and that would not have happened if Fingon had not cared about his former friend so much. It says that when you show others mercy, whether they deserve it or not, good things will come of it. And ultimately, it’s not just the people who are unequivocally good who deserve saving.

I’ve encountered a point of view (which I consider both abhorrent and antithetical to the themes of Tolkien’s writing) that Fingon should have killed Maedhros to somehow prevent the Second and Third Kinslayings. It’s true that Maedhros went on to do truly terrible deeds. But Fingon could not have foreseen them, and it’s not right to punish someone for something they have not yet done. Maedhros, as a result of being saved, did many good deeds as well: relinquishing the crown to Fingolfin, holding and defending one of the most dangerous areas in Eastern Beleriand, and creating the Union of Maedhros, among other things. I think Gandalf’s words about Sméagol are relevant:

Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.

Like Frodo’s mercy towards Sméagol, I think that Fingon’s mercy towards Maedhros was the right thing. Frodo’s pity towards Sméagol probably came, in part, from his ability to see how much they had in common as Ringbearers. And likewise I think that Fingon, regretting his actions at Alqualondë, still felt pity for Maedhros because he understood that they were not so different.

#Silmarillion #Tolkien #Silmarillion meta #Maedhros #Fingon #I'm probably not saying anything original here but whatever #EUCATASTROPHE #my post #my writing

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lilyofthesword-writes · 3 years

Text

Continue - Part 3

Summary: You have been ripped away from your world and tossed into one that is supposed to be pure fiction. You know the stories, how they are supposed to go. Despite your knowledge, you are unable to change the fates of the Fellowship you had grown so close to.

Pairing: Legolas x Modern!Reader

Word Count: 1,957

Warnings/Disclaimers: Violence, mentions of blood.

A/N: So this one turned into a beast. I wanted to write in some of the Battle of Helm’s Deep to try something different. Hopefully, this worked out, and I didn’t jump all over the place too much.

Masterlist

“Please, reconsider,” Legolas pleaded with you. “What if the binding magic activates, again? If we are separated, you will be defenseless amongst the chaos.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. He had a point, but still...

Squeezing his fingers, you tried your case again. “Legolas, I understand. I truly do. But I want to help you all on the field, not hide away in the caves. In a battle like this... Every person counts.”

Thunder from the impending storm nearly overshadowed the elf’s sigh. He unlaced a hand and cupped your face, stroking the apple of you cheek with his thumb. “There is that endearing determination, again.” Pulling you forward, he laid his forehead on yours. The tenderness of the action made your heart flutter. “I will not be able to convince you, will I?”

“Not this time, no,” you breathed, a ghost of a smile adorning your face.

With a light huff, Legolas pulled away to help you secure chainmail and light armor. If he couldn’t coax you into staying safe inside the caves with the others who were unable to fight, then he would at least ensure you would have some protection. The goal would be for you to stay by him as much as possible in the upcoming battle, but both of you knew that most likely would not happen.

Just as you remembered from second movie, there was a commotion at the gate. With knitted brows, Legolas took your hand to head outside where you met with Aragorn and King Théoden. Before you stood an elven army, Haldir at the forefront looking as stoic and regal as ever. Relief and hope visibly flooded the Ranger’s body. So much so, that he pulled the elf into a hardy embrace.

Out of all the characters you knew of, the Marchwarden was the only one whose fate was up in the air. There was no mention of his death in the books. Then again, he had not led an army to Helm’s Deep. The second film added drama with his appearance and fall. But… Could that change?

This version of the world seemed to meld the two forms of media together. You had been able to meet Tom Bombadil and his wife Goldberry after leaving the Shire which definitely hadn’t happened in the movies. And then there was the time when Frodo had to be rushed to Rivendell after being stabbed with a Morgul blade. That played out like the film with Arwen cradling his weakened form and speeding away on her horse. You had only caught a glimpse of Glorfindel after meeting Elrond. So maybe… Just maybe…

It wasn’t long after Aragorn released Haldir from the awkward hug that orders to get into position were sent out. Squeezing your hand, Legolas motioned for you to join him with Gimli at the higher parapet where you all could use arrows until the enemy tried to clamber up the walls. Lightning cracked the sky as you reached your station, the accompanying thunder booming off the stone. Your elf had placed you in between Gimli and him. Despite the dwarf not knowing of the magic that tethered you, he cared for you like family. It was almost like you had your own bodyguards.

Checking your bow one last time, you noticed Gimli struggling to see over the wall.

“What’s happening out there?”

“Shall I describe it to you?” Legolas turned his head towards the dwarf who met his gaze with a hum and arched brow. “Or would you like me to find you a box?”

And there was that lopsided smirk that partly caused Gimli’s boisterous laugh. It wasn’t often you saw that kind of smile sneak its way onto Legolas’ face. You bit back a chortle just as the rain plummeted down on the battlefield.

Then the chaos began. An arrow was loosed early into the throng of Uruk-hai and orcs, sending them into a frenzy. Between firing attempts and dodging projectiles, you didn’t notice the ladders hitting the walls.

A sweaty, snarling orc head popped over the edge next to you. It was close enough to smell its rancid, putrid breath. Swallowing your shriek, you took the arrow you were about to notch and shoved it into the creature’s throat. A gurgled screech tore from its mouth as it feel backwards off the ladder. What moment of triumph you had was short lived as a new round of orcs quickly followed. You opted for your sword instead, strapping your bow on your back for later.

You weren’t sure when you ended up on the ground level. It was all a blur. You were fairly sure you had fallen from the stairs at some point, probably in the middle of defending yourself. You at least remembered laying the mud and scrambling to reach your feet to dodge the next blow before lodging your sword in the orc’s side. Another orc rushed towards you, leaving no time to gather your bearings or look for your companions. After barely managing to take down that opponent, an explosion rumbled from the other side of the keep.

Aragorn.

Adrenaline coursed through you, blood pounding in your ears, as you sprinted off in that direction. By the time you reached him, the ranger was mostly back on his feet. You had only been able to make sure he regained his balance just as an Uruk-hai bulldozed its way to you from the newly breached wall. Jumping away from each other to miss its crudely forged blade, Aragorn and you then lunged forward with your swords, the steel penetrating the thick flesh not hidden away by armor. The Uruk-hai fell into muddy water, its black blood nearly indistinguishable from the muck.

Now focused on containing the breach, a handful of soldiers joined you and the ranger. A mess of Uruk-hai and orc were pouring through the opening. It wasn’t going to be enough. Aragorn called for everyone to start falling back. Just as you were headed off, a flash of red caught your eye. Your breath caught in your throat. Haldir was still on the upper level, making sure his soldiers were able to escape, and he was being surrounded rapidly.

Ripping the bow from your back, you shot at some of the orcs rushing up the stairs. You at least nailed a few of them. Your throat constricted lightly as you fired, either from your exhaustion or the magic warning you about interfering again. You weren’t quite sure at this point. Then, Haldir was hit, his entire world thrown off kilter. He spun wildly to defend himself from the onslaught. An Uruk-hai was readying his blade for the Marchwarden.

Magic be damned. You couldn’t just stand there and watch. Not again.

Sucking in a breath, you closed your eyes and raised your bow. Your chest tingled as you pointed in what you thought was the general direction. Flinging your eyes open, you made a last second adjustment to your aim. Just a touch to the left…

You were able to let go of the arrow just enough to let it fly from your fingers when your lungs froze and muscles locked you in place, leaving you unable to do anything but watch the following events. Your arrow hit the Uruk-hai’s bicep - non-fatal, but enough to cause it to falter. It also recalled Haldir’s focus, enabling him to dispose of his attacker.

He turned to find his savior, his eyes widening upon seeing you. At first you thought he was just surprised, but then you noticed movement in your peripheral. The binding magic still had you rooted to the spot and had ramped up. Your breathing was thin and ragged, vision blurring at the edges. You couldn’t even adjust your gaze to see what was approaching you at such a speedy gait.

An arrow whizzed past your face. A squelch sounded as it pierced the flesh of your supposed attacker. As the orc dropped to its knees, the spell chaining you down released. Gasping and choking on a torrent of oxygen, your burning muscles loosened and you fell back on the tower behind you.

Your head was pounding, muffling out the sounds of the battle still taking place. Warm hands encased your face and lifted your gaze. Panicked blue eyes bore into yours.

Legolas breathed your name. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” you hoarsely replied while nodding, your throat feeling like coarse sandpaper.

The sound of more Uruk-hai and orcs stole your attentions. Legolas let go of your face and snatched up your hand instead, pulling you along with him. The Marchwarden had made it down the stairs and joined you in the retreat. With the three of you, you were able to brute force your way to the inside of the keep.

Cheers and laughs echoed through the Golden hall. The Battle of Helm’s Deep was over. Saruman had been defeated, locked away in his tower with his lackey Wormtongue. Merry and Pippin were safely back with the company, celebrating the victory with the rest of Rohan. You, however, had chosen to go outside near the beginning of the festivities. There had barely been a moment’s rest between everything. All you really wanted was to decompress.

The cool breeze caressed your skin as you breathed in the clean air, your lips tugged lightly into a smile. You had done it. You had managed to bypass the stupid binding magic that kept you from changing anything. Albeit barely and your muscles still ached from how tightly the curse had wound them, but you still did it.

Leaning on the railing, you looked up at trillions of stars in the night sky. This world was truly beautiful. You could get used to living here if you were never to return to your own. Maybe by then, the curse would ease or end completely.

“Meleth?”

You swung around, facing Legolas who had been standing almost directly behind you.

“Legolas!” you gasped, before sniggering. “You always manage to sneak up on me!”

The elf laughed along with you and joined you at the railing, resting his hand on yours. “Are you well?”

“Never better.” You rested your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, by the way.”

He hummed questioningly while nuzzling your hair.

“Back at the keep. You were right about the binding magic. It did almost get me killed. If it weren’t for you, I may not be here right now.”

Tiny tears began to sting your eyes. This was just as real as your world and you could die just as easily. Legolas and the others had been vital in keeping you breathing. And you just had to try. It was only a fraction of a second that stood between life and death for both Haldir and you. It could have all gone wrong within moments.

Lacing his fingers with yours, he spoke softly, “I will admit, I was terrified when you disappeared. Even Gimli was unable to say what happened. I managed to find you when the air changed again. Seeing you frozen with that orc so close… My heart nearly stopped.” His voice nearly broke at the end.

“I-”

“Just promise me,” he stopped you, turning to where you were facing each other. “Promise me, you will be more careful.”

Gingerly cupping your face with his free hand, his thumb stoked your cheek.

You nodded, “I promise.”

Legolas then kissed your forehead. “Now, you did save the Marchwarden’s life, did you not?” He pulled back, tugging you with him to head inside. “That is added cause for celebration.”

“I guess it is,” you laughed and allowed him to bring you back to the party.

Tag List: @thisbreakableheaven @beakami

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas #legolas imagine #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #lotr #lotr imagine #aragorn #theoden #gimli #gandalf #merry #pippin #haldir

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warrioreowynofrohan · 2 years

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Inspired by @tolkienfeels’ post [edit: actually a reblog, post is by @frodo-with-glasses] quoting Aragorn at the start of The Two Towers:

Aragorn: “An ill fate is one me today, and all I do goes amiss.”

Later in the chapter, after Boromir’s death, he repeats this:

“You give the choice [of what to do next] to an ill chooser. Since we left Lothlórien [my note: or passed Sarn Gebir? my separation from my books is causing problems] my choices have gone amiss.”

What goes amiss?

1) The Fellowship is broken. Frodo tries to go to Mordor alone; Sam goes with him.

2) Boromir is killed.

3) Merry and Pippin are captured.

The death of Boromir is undoubtedly tragic. The separation from Frodo and Sam, and the capture of Merry and Pippin, also seem like a severe ill fate on that day. But as it transpires, Frodo could not have built the rapport with Gollum that is crucial to all later events, permits him and Sam to find an (albeit very dangerous, and treacherous on Gollum’s part) way into a Mordor, and ultimately leads to the destruction of the Ring, if Aragorn had gone with them. Gollum’s hostility to Aragorn (and the fact that Aragorn rather than Frodo would in practice have been the leader of the group, due to having greater experience and being more used to leadership) would have prevented it. Plus Aragorn wouldn’t have been able to aid in the defence of Minas Tirith.

And the capture of Merry and Pippin by the Orcs, while horrible for them in the short term, is what (as Gandalf later observes) brings them to Fangorn with extraordinary rapidity, leading to their meeting with Treebeard, the rousing of the Ents, and the march on Isengard, without which Saruman would have retained his fortress and the armies of Rohan might well have been destroyed at Helm’s Deep.

And Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli’s pursuit of the hobbits, though it does not find them, is successful in bringing them to Fangorn at exactly the right time to meet Gandalf. (Gandalf says something to this effect to Aragorn when he first meets them again.)

So what seems, rationally, very mich like an ill fate at the time, in the end works out to more good than any purposeful plan of Aragorn’s, even if executed perfectly, could have accomplished.

This ties in with the section on “Fate and Free Will” on The Nature of Middle-earth. The gist of the passage, as far as I can tell, is that people’s purposeful, deliberate decisions and goals are through their own free will. But Fate (or Providence) can operate through ‘chance,’ things that seem like coincidence at the time, actions that are taken with no especial knowledge or purpose. Bilbo going on the Quest of Erebor is his own free will (strongly nudged by Gandalf, as a consequence of a chance/Providential meeting with Thorin); him finding the Ring is Fate/Providence. Éomer choosing to pursue the Orcs, which speeds up their pace, is free will; Merry and Pippin and Treebeard all happening to go to the right part of Fangorn to meet each other is Fate/Providence.

The other element that I think the NoME section is drawing in, is that when we make decisions based on good values and with good goals (such as Aragorn choosing to place rescuing Merry and Pippin above other practical considerations - above either following Frodo or going to Minas Tirith) we leave space for the operation of Fate to good ends, even if those ends are not the ones we have foreseen.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #nature of middle earth #nome #aragorn #free will

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entishramblings · 4 years

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It’s Not That Bad [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: I’m so sorry I have not been writing as often. I’ve had zero time. But anyWaYS...here is a fic that has been requested by someone who has always been into my writing so thank you for supporting me and here is a fic for you! Additionally, I did some research on herbs and stuff so I could make this at least a little accurate!

Request: @quilledinkpen — Hellooo i hope you're having a good day ^-^ I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader? Something like she's travelling with the fellowship and is kinda the unspoken "mom" of the group, like she's always doing her best to make sure everyone's safe, and reminding Pippin and Merry to be careful and stuff like that. Just an all-around motherly person lol (mainly to the Hobbits bc they're her babies but she looks after the other guys too) I think it'd be cute ^^ Thank you!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N), a healer, travels with the fellowship. She takes care of everyone and is basically “the mom friend.”

Word Count: 2, 510

Warnings: battle wounds that are kinda graphicish?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) was a well known healer throughout all of Arda. Many traveled to her for treatment for life threatening ailments. But now, now it was her time to travel throughout the lands of Middle Earth in search of a salvation for all. A gruesome quest to destroy the evil ring of power had begun and someone well versed in natural apothecary was needed. (Y/N), of course, volunteered for this role for there was no one better suited than her. Besides, it was her duty to contribute to the survival of this world as she was one in it and relied heavily on what the earth produced. And if Sauron was to rule.....well, we all know where that would lead: no earth, no life, just darkness.

(Y/N) ruffled through her dark-brown leather satchel as she sifted through her healing herbs. Little pouches filled with athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, alder bark, valerian roots, and more piled inside the confinements of the fabric.

“Sam,” She called out. “Would you mind making hot tea for Frodo while I take care of Strider’s cut?”

The little hobbit ran over instantly and she passed him a couple pouches naming each one out loud, “Valerian root, dried chamomile pedals, and sycamore bark.” She then lowered her voice and leaned it, for it wasn’t anyone else’s business to hear. “It will help him sleep and deter the anxieties the ring bestows upon him.”

Sam nodded quickly and set to work as (Y/N) moved towards Aragorn who sat upon a large rock.

“Let me have a look.”

The dunedain rolled his eyes, “(Y/N), it is not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The young women sighed in annoyance and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a slash across his bicep. He was right—to an extent—it wasn’t terrible. He would not need stitches. However, it did need to be cleaned and wrapped for infections were nasty things.

(Y/N) started by pouring some alcohol over the wound; receiving a harsh hiss from the dunedain in response. She muttered a quick apology before continuing. The young woman ground athelas leaves into a fine paste and expertly smeared it onto the cut. She then unrolled gauze and placed it upon the wound. Lastly, she pulled white dressings from her satchel. She gingerly wrapped it around his arm, yet she was careful to still pull it taught as the goal was to keep the athelas paste in and bacteria out.

She stood up and brushed her hands off before placing them firmly on her hips. “See Strider, it takes only a couple minute.”

He grumbled at her comment but thanked her for the medical attention.

(Y/N) nodded quickly and went to check on the rest of the fellowship. She made her way to Boromir who was also sitting in rest. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir, how are you doing? Any wounds?”

He seemed slightly startled at first for his mind had been elsewhere, but he looked up at her with a soft smile.

“I’m quite alright, My Lady.”

A light chuckled escaped her lips. “My friend, how many times must I tell you? It’s (Y/N), no lady of any sorts!”

He shook his head and grinned at her, “Well, my lady, I am doing quite fine.”

She let her eyes circle into the back of her head as the corner of her lip pulled into a smirk.

The healer turned and made her way to Gimli who was sharpening his axe.

“Gimli, I trust you are alright as I see you are already preparing for the next battle even though we just endured one.”

His gruff voice answered immediately, “Aye lassie! Those orcs can’t ensnare a dwarf that easily!!”

She laughed at his comment as Merry and Pippin came rushing up to her. As soon as she saw their faces she knew that the two mischievous hobbits wanted to claim her attention. She lowered herself down to their height as they flung themselves into her arms.

“Ahh my two hobbits! How did you fare in the battle?”

They pulled from her hug and began speaking at the same time.

“It was intensely scary but we were fierce!”

“Merry had hit one with a tree branch! It was quite magnificent!”

“Yes it was, I would have to admit! And Pip tripped another and he fell flat on his face!”

(Y/N) beamed at the two and giggled at their attempt to tell the story. As much as she was focused on caring for everyone, the hobbits cared for her—in another way that is. The four of them brought joy to her heart and glee to her spirit. Their innocence and appreciation of the simplest things brought happiness to her soul. They had offered her a welcomed visit to the shire at any time; telling her of the grand tour they would take her on. She had grown to look upon them as children for their smallness and way of perceiving life was similar so.

The two scampered off quickly, most likely to share their adrenaline filled story with Boromir, while (Y/N) did a final scan of the fellowship.

Her eyes soon rested on the elf. Legolas was off to a distance standing upon the rocky tundra. Something about his posture made her frown. His back was to her and his head seemed bowed, as if he was looking down at something. Furthermore, his one arm was pulled up at an awkward angle—strange, even for the elf. As the healer that she was, she was compelled to check on him.

(Y/N) weaved through the rocks until she was only a short distance from him.

“Legolas?” She questioned softly.

He immediately whipped around. His shirt fell to cover his form, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of bright purple, red, and black. The young woman’s lips instantly parted in shock. She had seen many wounds in her life, on many people of many different races. However, it was not often that she had an elven patient with a wound like that. To state it simply, (Y/N) was worried—that looked bad, very bad. Legolas on the other hand was only flustered for he, an elf, had gotten snuck up on. He did not have great concern for the injury given that there were far more important things to worry about.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated firmly. “Lift your shirt.”

He sighed, “(Y/N), it’s not—“

She interrupted him, “Let me guess, ‘It’s not that bad?’” She shook her head, “You and Strider.”

She stepped forward and took the hem of his shirt in her hand. She cautiously lifted the fabric, not caring about the socially deemed scandalousness of the action—she was a healer after all.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath. A relatively large bruise stretched across his torso with a sizable cut in the center of it.

“By the Valar, Legolas!” She exclaimed with exasperation. “You should have come to me straight away!”

“(YN)—“

She cut him off again, “No. don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me. This is serious. It could be internal bleeding. I don’t care that you are an immortal elf, you can still die from this.”

The healer gently let her fingertips brush against his skin, tracing and examining the injury. He winced in pain at the contact and that did not escape (Y/N)’s attention.

“How did this happen exactly? I need every detail.”

Legolas groaned again when she grazed over the cut; and when he spoke it was with heavy breaths, “A harsh kick to the side into another orc....” (Y/N) hand pressed on the bleeding laceration and he hissed in pain before continuing to speak. “...who—who slashed downward.....with a jagged-edged blade that had a—a curved tip.

(Y/N) looked up at him with concern, his breathing was getting labored and that was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Alright, come on.” She ordered. The young woman practically dragged the reluctant elf back towards the group and pushed him down on a rock.

She knelt in front of him and, once again, ruffled through her satchel.

“Take your tunic off,” she commanded while pulling out various pouches and gauze dressings.

(Y/N) could feel all of the fellowships’ gazes on the two, which only intensified when Legolas removed his tunic. She could hear the hobbit’s hushed whispers and concerned tones for the wound was gruesome and ugly—probably the worst they have ever seen considering their simple lives.

Once she had all her supplies ready, she set to work.

(Y/N) was kneeling in-between Legolas’s legs while she studied the torn up, bloody, and bruised fresh for yet another time; it was imperative that she made a plan before starting.

During this examination, the young woman could not help but let her eyes wander across his chest and rippling muscles. The bends and curves of his form looked perfect against his pale complexion. He was incredibly toned and well built, even more so than humans. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him.

Additionally, battle scars of various shapes and sizes littered his body—which was expected given he was over 2,000 years old. Here, she took a moment to study them for if one really looked at a warriors scars their fighting style would be revealed. Many stretched across his being—specifically on his ribcage, sides, pecs, and abs—it was clear that he was way more reckless than he would like people to think. He was fast with his moves, going for the quickest way to an oppenent’s death, but that often left him exposed. No wonder he ended up with this terrible bruising gash. He lived up to the Mirkwood elf expectation—less wise and more fierce.

As (Y/N) realized that her mind had wandered too far off task, she cleared her throat and reached for the flask of liquor.

“This will sting,” she stated before pouring it over the broken flesh. As expected, a loud groan escaped his lips and his fists clenched around nothingness.

Carefully she dabbed the area with a cloth. (Y/N) then threaded a needle and began to sew his skin back together. The elf was stiff as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles—a natural reflex in this kind of situation. She continued to pull his skin taught so their was no more breakthrough bleeding. It seemed that he had gotten used to the sensation as she went given he began to relax. Next, she made a paste for the wound, much like Strider’s. However, she decided to use more than athelas leaves because this cut was more severe than the Ranger’s. (Y/N) ground up echinacea stalks and mixed in alder bark to soothe inflammation and fight infection. Gently she applied the blended mixture into his torso. Lastly, she wound gauze and dressings around his midsection in order to keep everything in place.

Much time had past given stitches took long; luckily, the fellowships’ concerned glances faded.

(Y/N) stood up from her position and it was then when she released just how close the two were. She stood between his legs, their faces inches apart. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared for she often had to be in such proximities with others as she was a healer. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was him.

“You—you should be fine now,” (Y/N) whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards. “I will have to check on it every day and redo the bandages. And I advise you: no sudden movements, and no lifting heavy objects—like the hobbits.”

Legolas cracked a smile at that last comment. “Thank you, (Y/N). I truly appreciate your skill.”

“That is what I’m here for, is it not?” She adverted her eyes and kept her hands busy by gathering her supplies for she feared her expression would betray her.

Legolas put his tunic back on as he spoke, “I suppose it is, but nethertheless I thank you.”

......

As the days went on she continued to check Legolas’s wound. (Y/N) tried to make it more private by dragging him off to the side or away from the group, given that she suspected it was uncomfortable for him to undress everyday in front of inquiring eyes (aka the hobbits).

It was dusk when she crouched down to examine it once again.

“It is healing nicely,” She said. “A lot faster than I suspected, but I suppose that is because you are elven.” Her nervousness caused her to continue speaking when she did not wish to do so. “I mainly treat men....and dwarves. It is not often that I have a wounded elf at my door. Do you know an elf named Feren? I recall he said he was of Mirkwood Kin. I treated him once years ago for a busted leg when he strayed into northern territories.”

A small smirk crossed Legolas’s face, “Ahh so you are the beautiful healer who patched him up so well?”

(Y/N) felt heat creep up her face, “I—I would not say that—“

“Nonsense! He spoke of your beauty and skill many times, and he was not mistaken. I am just surprised that I have been lucky enough to gaze upon you and have you heal me.”

These words made (Y/N)’s gauze wrapping motions falter. “It—it is my job, Legolas.”

“Yet you go beyond your assignment and duty everyday. I see how you take care of us all, especially the hobbits. You truly have a noble heart.”

(Y/N) smiled softly and spoke in a teasing tone, “Well I suppose you are right—all you boys would be lost without me.”

A deep chuckled hummed in Legolas’s chest and the healer joined in with a bright laugh.

The giggles settled soon enough and Legolas spoke, his sentence quite abrupt. “How would you feel about coming to Mirkwood and living there as a healer once the ring is destroyed?”

Shocked, (Y/N) stuttered. “I—I am unsure. I don’t know if—“

“(Y/N)...” He interrupted. “I do not wish for the end of this journey to be the end of our acquaintance.”

The young woman looked down, “As I agree, but—“

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

Something about his tone made her freeze.

Ever so gently, he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “I—I don’t think you understand what I am trying to convey.”

Oh....

Now she understood.

The healer glanced at his lips which hovered near her own before biting her bottom one and locking gazes with him. Legolas of course noticed this and waisted no time. He pressed his mouth against hers and she instantly responded. Her hands slid up his bare chest, careful to avoid the wound on his torso, and then tangled themselves in his blonde locks. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he focused on the taste of mint tea and fresh honey. The two moved their lips in sync and the world around them melted away. Suddenly, there was no quest, no fellowship, no responsibilities—only the two of them and the thudding of their hearts.

.......

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