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jengajives · 3 years

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Part four Caranthir is a dick

Part one

Part two

Part three

Up close, Daeron noticed that the Fëanorian dinner table was smaller than he’d imagined; granted, he had been imagining a cartoon rich-person table with about fifty seats at it, and it was big, to be sure, just not as big. There were maybe fifteen chairs pulled up, each of them carved of twisting metal and dark wood to match the elegance of the dining table. A stream of red silk ran down the middle. No food was set out yet, and now that Daeron thought about it, he couldn’t imagine any of these people making their own meal. He’d seen Maglor attempt to cook before, and it had not gone well; judging by the established patterns of behavior, the rest of his family would be much worse. The help would probably bring the food out once it was all done.

What a bizarre thought to pass through his mind.

Five of the chairs were occupied, all at the nearest half of the table. Two redheads sat talking back and forth, apparently blind to their surroundings and dressed in almost identical, expensive-looking sweatshirts; a frowning man with deepset eyes and hair of the deepest auburn, so dark it was almost indistinguishable from black, dressed in a silken suit that gleamed violet in the sunlight (Curufin took Celebrimbor from Daeron and took a seat at his side, looking smug); a tired red-haired woman who sat with her arms folded, a drawn scowl on her face; and, of course, the one Daeron assumed to be Fëanor himself, comfortably seated at the head of the table and weighing Daeron with his silver gaze. The family resemblance hit Daeron hard. Fëanor’s face was almost identical to Curufin’s, but he had Celegorm’s sharp jaw and Maglor’s eyes. He also saw the compact build on the red-haired twins, and there was something in the brow that Fëanor shared with the man in the suit. A bit of every son present there, except for Maedhros, who seemed to take after his mother. Unlike his boys- indeed, unlike almost any Noldo Daeron had ever met- Fëanor wore his black hair cropped short and close to the skull, without braiding of any kind. He didn’t look like a particularly nice man.

“Maglor,” he said, and a smile crossed his face that did nothing to put Daeron at ease. “Glad you could make it.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, dewdrop.” The woman smiled, too, but Daeron liked the look of hers. He got the impression he was going to like Nerdanel. Her skin was brushed with dark freckles, and her nose was crooked, but she had a warmth to her where Fëanor had only intensity and heat.

Maglor put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Daeron. Daeron, this is my mom and dad, Caranthir, Amrod, and Amras.”

One of the redheads rolled his eyes. “Last again.”

“I was hoping you all wouldn’t mind speaking Sindarin tonight?” Maglor seemed to be staring at Caranthir as he spoke. “Switch it up a little.”

Nerdanel looked like she was about to say something when Caranthir interrupted.

Just hearing his voice, Daeron got a bad feeling about him. Too calculated and much too smooth.

“Why should all of us have to speak a lower language just to cater to him?” He glanced at Daeron and there was a dismissive flash in his inky grey eyes.

Maglor took a step forward before Daeron even had time to process how offensive that was, and put an arm protectively in front of him, apparently on instinct.

“That’s pretty rude,” he said. His voice was calm but the glare he gave his brother certainly was not. “We all speak Sindarin. It’s not a big deal.”

“Can your friend not speak Quenya?” Caranthir glared right back. “I thought the Dark Elves had finally picked that up, but maybe that’s an overestimation on my part.”

“Lay off, Caranthir, seriously-“

“I just don’t see why he can’t use our language if we’re his hosts.”

“My Quenya is fine,” Daeron butted in, though of course he knew his accent was all off. He understood it a lot better than he actually spoke it; he just didn’t want to cause a fight over this. Maglor was too staunch a defender. Daeron didn’t want him to feud with a brother over this.

“Fine might be too generous a word,” Caranthir said. He looked mad. Daeron couldn’t fathom what had possibly set him off.

“That’s too far,” chided Nerdanel; her use of Sindarin didn’t go amiss. Her son grumbled and flicked out his phone instead, and Maglor’s fists somewhat relaxed.

“We’re happy to have you, Daeron.” Fëanor had a very good voice, and his Sindarin was flawless. Daeron suddenly began to understand this man’s popularity; he might not look friendly, but he sounded like an ally. Simple as that. “We don’t get Grey Elves very often. And since your Quenya needs improvement, we are all happy to share your language. It’s no difficulty, is it, boys?”

No one answered him. The twins were whispering to each other, checked out, Curufin had a stupid, knowing grin on his face, and Caranthir was still pouting.

“Quenya needs improvement.” He should be grateful I even bothered learning this much. Stupid language.

“Thank you,” Maglor said shortly, glaring at his brothers.

He pulled out a chair and motioned for Daeron to take it, which he did, rather hesitantly. Caranthir was still staring at him, and it felt as if Fëanor was trying to pick him apart with his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably as Maglor sat down beside him.

“Food is almost ready- where’s Nelyo?” Fëanor looked at Maglor like he thought he was hiding Mae in his pocket somewhere. Mags only shrugged.

“Upstairs, I think.”

“Got another mysterious phone call, did he?” Curufin smiled smugly. “Any clue who his secret lover is yet, Mags?”

“I didn’t realize I was supposing to be investigating.”

“Course you are. You’re his favorite.”

“Mae is entitled to his privacy.”

“Sure, sure. You think it’s one of the Valar again?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fëanor spoke firmly, putting an end to any speculation. “Nelyo knows better than to tangle with that lot.”

“One of them would be better than a Sindar,” Caranthir said. It was quiet, but not quiet enough; he’d meant for Daeron to hear it.

Maglor had really neglected to mention how much of a dick this one was.

“Did the Sindar do something to you?” Daeron asked as politely as he could manage, ignoring the way Maglor gripped his thigh in a clear signal not to engage. “If we did, I’m sorry, but there’s no need to generalize like that.”

Caranthir met his gaze, cool but undeniably angry. There was a slightly purple tint to his storm-colored eyes.

“Don’t like Dark Elves,” he said in a particularly chilling voice. “Bad for business.”

“That’s good, because I’m not a Dark Elf.”

If this smug little bastard wanted a fight, Daeron would give it to him.

“Babe…” Maglor said, tugging at his arm.

Caranthir looked like he was about to stand up and start laying into him, so Daeron braced to get to his feet, but the boiling tensions were somewhat lessened when Maedhros came into the dining room. Initially, it looked like he was out of breath from taking the stairs too fast, but his face was also a bit flushed, and a strand of hair that had been up a few minutes ago was loose and clung to a line of sweat on his forehead.

“Sorry. Am I the last one here? Didn’t mean to keep anyone waiting.”

“Celegorm is still outside,” Maglor offered. “Daeron and I can go get him.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m already up.” Mae flashed his tired smile and vanished again; Maglor looked very worried about it. He knew Daeron was close to chewing his brother out at the dinner table during his very first family visit, and that wouldn’t exactly be a good look, but before he could think of another excuse to relieve tensions, his mother did it for him.

“Caranthir, stop glaring and leave our guest alone. We’ve agreed to leave politics away from the dinner table, yes?”

“Like we ever do that,” he grumbled.

“Shape up. You’re a grown man and more than capable of putting on a courteous front for a few hours.” Nerdanel folded her arms, and Daeron was stricken by how muscular she was. The biceps strained against her sleeves- it was a miracle she even fit them in at all.

Caranthir looked like a scolded puppy, but still he whined, “But I-“

“No. You owe Daeron an apology.”

A long silence. Caranthir looked like he’d rather kill Daeron then apologize to him, but his mother kept him locked in a death stare, so eventually he caved in and grumbled, “Sorry.” It was not very convincing.

“It’s fine,” said Daeron in a clipped voice. It wasn’t fine, but he would rather Maglor’s family not hate him, so he could pretend. It seemed to put Mags more at ease, at the very least.

The skittering off claws on hardwood indicated the arrival of Huan and his master, and as Maedhros and Celegorm took seats on either side of their mother, Fëanor said something about eating, and the smell of something fragrant with herbs drifted in along with the small herd of cooks and servers. It smelled a bit too much like poultry for Daeron’s tastes. He got the feeling the Fëanorians would not approve of his not eating meat.

This whole thing was starting to feel like a really bad idea.

#jenga makes junk #fic #modern au #maglor #daeron #daemags #maglor x daeron #feanorians #feanor #nerdanel #maedhros #celegorm #curufin #caranthir #amrod #amras #starting to feel a litttttle crowded here

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jazzistolkienfanfics · 4 years

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Elleth-in-Training

25, 29 and 31 w/ legolas during lotr !! could u use they/them pronouns ? if not fem is okay too ! ♡♡ thank youuu

hey! of course i’ll write they/them! i’m bi, so i definitely support lgbtq+ baes <3

i just gotta *edit* one of the prompts because ‘mahal’ is a Dwarven curse

25. “All up, that went well. Right, Y/N?” “YOU’VE BEEN STABBED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” 29. “Did you just kiss me?” “Was I not supposed to?” “I don’t know, but could you do it again?” 31. “Valar, are you alright?” “*groan* I will be … in a few thousand years.”

Type: Imagine Pairing: Legolas x reader Summary: Y/N is training to become Captain of the Guard, and she must accompany Legolas on the quest to Mordor Warnings: ‘fuck’ Word Count: 1063 words

All non-English is in Sindarin.

Y/N sighed. They glanced longingly at young ellith (female elves) and ellyn (male elves), and wished, not for the first time, that they didn’t have to be in Imladris. Sure, the Last Homely House was a beautiful place, and they loved being out of Taur-nu-Fuin (Mirkwood) for once, but their reasons for being there were ... inexplicably adorable.

And therein lay the problem. Also the fact that they were training to be Captain of the Guard, and was doing a pretty bad job of it.

“Y/N! Tolo ar nin! (Come with me!)” the problem spoke, running up to them.

Y/N turned, and was met by the infectious smile of Legolas Thranduilion that few besides Elves were treated to.

“A, Legolas. Am man? (Hi, Legolas. Why?)” they responded, folding their s/c arms.

“Because,” Legolas said, breaking the Sindarin and not even letting his smile falter at Y/N’s apparent unenthusiasm. “You’re accompanying me, you should meet the Fellowship.”

“The what?” Y/N asked, a hand on her sword.

“The Fellowship of the RIng - four hobbits, a wizard, two men, a Dwarf and two Elves! That would be us.”

“Sounds like a bad joke,” they said warily.

“Alright, Y/N, come on, lighten up!” Legolas nudged them. They just scowled back.

“Fine.”

Legolas watched the h/c edhel (gender-neutral term for Elf uwu tolkien we love u) go first in front of him, and now that they couldn’t see him, he finally dropped his smile.

Why were they so cold and serious?

---

Y/N growled in frustration as they cut down yet another Orc ladder thrown haphazardly upon the battlements of Helm’s Deep, slashing at the Orcs that remained on the wall.

“Y/N! Gimli! I’m on nineteen!” Legolas called somewhere. Y/N’s keen Elvish ears picked up his score and rolled their eyes.

“Ion e suni (son of a bitch),” they muttered, yelling back, “Twelve!”

Some sword cut into her - a shallow cut, though it stung annoyingly. Y/N quickly pressed a s/c hand to the cut, drawing it away with a hiss as red blood soaked into it. They wiped their hand on their armour - no time to stop in the middle of a battle.

Y/N stared at the blood, and cursed themself. (A/N - i am so sorry is that pronoun right?) Elves were supposed to be so talented and strong in battle they never bled - and Y/N had just proved that wrong. They channelled their anger into the fight and realised with some semblance of satisfaction that they fought better this way.

However, none of that mattered when Y/N heard a familiar voice give a growl of pain.

“Legolas!” they shouted. “Legolas, mi van le? (Where are you?)”

“Y/N!”

They rushed towards the source of the noise, recklessly swinging their sword around them, making Orcs cut them a wide berth. Panic shrouded their mind, and even as they saw dead familiar bodies all around them, and Aragorn crouched over the body of Haldir of Lorien, they could not shake their purpose form Legolas.

After all, they tried to reason. I am the Captain of the Guard. It’s my duty to try and help my soldiers.

Y/N skidded to a stop around the spot where they had heard the cry, looking around for Legolas.

They found him ... and their s/c skin paled rapidly, all the colour leeching from their face. He was still fighting, still remaining strong, but in an evident moment of distraction, he’d allowed himself to be sliced shallowly by a sword, and an arrow was embedded in his forearm.

“Legolas!” Y/N yelled, lunging for him, defending the stubborn elf, who was evidently tiring, with a newfound vigour.

“Y/N,” he breathed, noting their technique as he fought beside them. “You will indeed make a good Captain of the Guard.”

“That won’t matter if we never get back to Taur-nu-Fuin,” they replied shortly, sparing their remaining concentration on Legolas with a painful concern.

“Wait ...” Legolas said slowly, pointing at something Y/N couldn’t see. “It’s dawn.”

Just as he said it, a loud call of a horn sounded, bringing with it more hope and energy.

“Gandalf!” Y/N said, grinning. They stopped when Legolas grimaced, though the Orcs had fled to meet this new force. “Legolas, are you all right?”

“I will be fine,” he assured them. “Gandalf is here.”

Together, they looked out from the battlements, out from the carnage, and saw the arrival of a new army to absolutely demolish the Orc force.

“Huh.” Legolas leaned more heavily against the walls. “All up, that went well. Right, Y/N?”

“YOU’VE BEEN STABBED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” they yelled, itching to give Legolas a well-deserved slap, but refraining themselves as they inspected the wounds. “How did this even happen? You’ve bled, like, once.”

“I was shot, not stabbed. I was distracted,” Legolas grumbled, unwilling to admit that the distraction had been Y/N.

They attended to the cut first, bandaging it up tightly, and then turning Legolas over, wincing at his groan as they ran their fingers around the edge of the arrow.

“I can’t take care of this,” Y/N announced, pulling Legolas to his feet. “I’ll take you to a healer.”

Legolas scrunched his face up as he stood, attempting unsuccessfully to ignore the pain.

“Valar, are you alright?”

“I will be … in a few thousand years.” Legolas groaned, but still managed another endearingly sweet smile. They smiled back, giving a tiny laugh at the joke and hooking Legolas’s arm over their shoulders and gesturing with a head movement which direction to walk.

---

“Thanks, Y/N,” Legolas grinned, arrow freshly pulled from his arm and bandage replacing it. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“Nah, it wasn’t trouble,” Y/N shrugged, sitting next to him and cleaning blood off their sword. “Besides. It was the least I could do for one of my soldiers.” They smirked teasingly.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? You’re not Captain yet.”

They elbowed him. “Just you watch me.”

“Oh, I fully intend to,” Legolas said, and then took Y/N completely by surprise and kissed them.

Y/N turned red from head to toe, reluctantly pulling away after a couple seconds, gasping. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Was I not supposed to?” Legolas asked.

Y/N bit their lip. “I don’t know, but could you do it again?”

Legolas leaned in again. “Of course.”

Thanks @amanemisamisa! i’m getting round to the rest of the requests soon!

EVERYONE - NO MATTER HOW MANY REQUESTS I HAVE THEY’RE STILL GONNA BE OPEN SO FEEL FREE!

#legolas #legolas x reader #x reader #lotr #lord of the rings #you

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years

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Hobbit!Legolas x Reader: Meeting

(Author’s note: Heyo! I know I write a lot of dwarf fics, so I figured it was time to write something else!

This one goes out to those who are team elf! Holla)

. . . .

Still, you couldn’t fight the feeling in your chest at the thought of seeing him again.

. . . .

“‘Just go to Middle Earth’, he said,” you muttered aloud. “‘It’ll be fun’, he said. Well, Gandalf, I’m not exactly having the time of my life!” You withdrew the sword from the spider’s corpse in front of you. “When I see him again, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

“_________, what are you muttering about?” Kili asked, glancing at you and then at the dead spider. “Nice kill, by the way.”

You shrugged. “Thanks. So, do you know if we have a plan to get out of here? These spiders are just gross. I didn’t even want to come here in the first place.”

“We’re just fighting our way out, looks like,” he replied, turning to watch your back. “Think you could lend me a sword?”

“Sorry, I’m out of extras.” You jumped forward and slashed another spider as it raced to attack a member of the Company. Bofur shouted a thanks, and you acknowledged his gratitude with a nod.

This was the scene in the Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug movie where the Company escapes the spiders. As an outsider who knew the course of the journey, you had really hoped to steer the Company clear of this part, but unfortunately, the spiders still caught you all off guard.

You had arrived at the beginning of the journey when the Company first met Bilbo in the Shire. Even though you’d been traveling with them for some time now, fighting still made you nervous. Your sword skills had improved greatly, and sometimes you peppered the battlefield with comments to make others think you were unafraid, but deep down inside it was still scary at times. Especially when dealing with giant, gross spiders! Ew!

Unfortunately, this fear made an appearance when one of the spiders launched itself straight at you, slimy mouth wide open and revealing fangs. The sight was so disgusting, and the arachnophobe in you cringed away from the creature instead of meeting it with your steely blade.

“_______!” Kili called from several feet away. He was unarmed and too far to help. Other members of the Company were preoccupied with their opponents to intervene as well. It looked bleak for a split second. Then, the spider was thrown aggressively off its path by an unseen object. It fell over onto its side, writhing on the ground with an arrow lodged in its flesh.

Your eyes darted back to where the arrow could have come from, and you saw a figure in green with light blonde hair slide down a curved tree trunk until he landed near you. The spider had stopped moving for now, so he instead aimed his bow and arrow at you.

“Drop the sword.”

You did as he ordered and put your hands up. Around you, residents of Mirkwood began appearing on the scene, taking out spiders left and right before circling the Company. Tauriel was among them, which was neat. Her and Kili had hit it off. They spoke in their elvish language, and as a Lord of the Rings fan who spent your time learning the language back home (especially movie lines), you understood nearly all of it.

And it was utterly frustrating not being able to use it when it mattered most.

You had kept this ability of yours to speak Sindarin a secret from your group. Since Thorin had such contempt for elves, you figured that advertising your knack for the language was a bad idea. It wouldn’t help you earn his trust which you had so carefully fostered over the course of the journey. If you spoke for the Company now instead of letting Thorin speak first, that would also be disrespectful. Even so, you wondered if it would do you any good at all anyway. Mirkwood elves were not like Rivendell elves. You had let Elrond in on your secret, and he had been fascinated, but Legolas and Thranduil might end up being even more suspicious.

Legolas was being all mean and insulting, making accusations of Thorin stealing the blade Orcrist, and accusing him of lying about it. He called Gloin’s wife his brother, and his son a goblin.

Just you wait, Legolas. You’re going to spend a few decades outside the Woodland Realm and are going to become a big softie by the time the Fellowship is formed.

Then, he looked at you with those blue eyes. “Are these dwarves keeping you their prisoner? I cannot imagine any other reason a young woman would travel with such a… crew.”

“I am not their prisoner,” you clarified, resisting the urge to scoff at such a notion. You had to remain as calm and sensible as possible, or it would make things worse. “They are my good friends. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t raise false accusations against them.”

He observed you for a moment longer with that beautiful but wild gaze. He then turned to give his soldiers orders in Sindarin. The Company was escorted through the deadly woods, no doubt to the fortress.

Before long, you found yourself in a cell alone a little ways away from the rest of the Company. The others chattered and hollered, some even tried kicking at the doors to no avail.

“Leave it! There is no way out! This is no Orc dungeon,” Balin scolded. “These are the Halls of the Woodland realm. No one leaves here, but, by the king’s consent.”

At that, the hollering and loud bangs stopped, but the Company continued to chatter as if devising a plan for escape. You leaned against the wall and sank to the floor slowly, knowing very well it would be hours before Bilbo arrived.

“________,” Bofur called. “ You okay, lass? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied. “Just tired, thanks. Everyone up there alright?”

“We’re fine, dear,” Balin assured you. “I can almost guarantee that Thranduil is offering Thorin a deal. The question is: will Thorin take him up on it?”

“Considering how he feels about these people,” you hesitated. “I’d say our chances of him taking the deal are slim.”

“I’m afraid I agree,” Balin sighed.

Some time had passed before Thorin was dragged into the dungeon and pushed in his cell. Balin inquired about whether Thorin was given a deal, which of course, Thorin had refused. However, Thorin remained hopeful that there was another way out.

Later that night, you were still lying on the cell floor listening to the nature-y sounds that filled the dungeon. There was the sound of running water, like a stream or small waterfall, and it was quite soothing. A couple of voices echoed softly. You spared a glance outside your cell to see Tauriel outside Kili’s cell talking. Those two were so cute.

Suddenly, a shadow was cast over your cell. Legolas stood there gazing at you quietly. You hadn’t even heard him approach!

“What business does a young woman have with a group of dwarves reclaiming Erebor?” he asked.

“That’s a good question,” you nodded. “I asked myself that a few times when the journey first began.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He didn’t sound angry, just curious. “I do not understand why you would endure such a journey for people who are not your own.”

“I do not have to be from Erebor to care about them,” you countered. “I think you place too much importance on where a person’s from or who their people are. It’s normal to take pride in those things. I know I do! But friendship and comradery should go beyond that.”

He was silent for a few moments, as if taking in all that you said. “You are wiser than you look.”

“Oh...thanks?” you weren’t sure if that was an insult or compliment for certain.

“I meant, you are wise beyond your years,” he clarified.

“Ohh,” you nodded in understanding. A compliment. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“Appreciate what?”

“What you said.”

“I was merely stating an observation,” he said dismissively. “You are...different. Not like any maidens here.”

“Well, I’m not from around here,” you explained. “Where I come from, this place is the stuff of legend. I suppose even here it is.” With a pause, your eyes found his. “It’s very beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Though I would not mind traveling, visiting the other realms. Your home- you said it was not around here. What is it like?”

“Like me, it’s...different,” you went on. “It is beautiful in its own way.” You watched him, curious as to why he was there talking to you instead of jealously watching Tauriel and Kili. He considered you a stranger, so it would be odd to ask such a personal question. “I don’t believe we have formally introduced ourselves. I am ________, member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

Legolas’ lips formed a small smile. “I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, prince of Mirkwood.”

“I suppose it’s a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.”

His brows furrowed as he looked at the bars that separated you, remembering that you were a prisoner. He took a step back, conflicted.

Then, he walked away. “I must go.”

As expected, you and the rest of the Company had made your daring and clever escape. Bilbo had returned and ushered you all into the barrels, pulling the lever so they’d drop and fall into the river. With many other experiences on this journey, you discovered that it was so different to actually live the scene as opposed to watching it on TV. The water was cold, and you worried your barrel would tip.

The situation had erupted when not only the Mirkwood soldiers perceived your escape, but also orcs arrived on the scene. Early morning sunlight shone in the sky, and the air was brisk. You felt it every time it touched your skin when you rose out of the water momentarily. There was a particularly big and hideous orc on the shore aiming an arrow right at you. You could do nothing but try and duck into the barrel since you were lacking your weapon. Even then, it was risky.

Before either you or the orc made a move, an arrow went flying into the side of its head. Your eyes followed the path to see Legolas leaping into battle with another orc. He paused, blue eyes meeting yours even from a distance. It hadn’t been simply about protecting Mirkwood, he had rescued you. Something flashed between you. You weren’t sure what, but it was something.

The fight progressed, and you even got a hold of an orc’s axe. You knew very well Legolas could protect himself, but when the opportunity arose, you threw the axe at an orc to stop it mid-swing behind the Mirkwood prince. He no doubt heard the orc’s shriek, turning to glance at it and then you before resuming conflict.

The stream’s current picked up, and pretty soon the Company was so far along that no orcs could be seen. No sign of Legolas or Tauriel either. You knew you’d see them again soon, but until then, a part of you would miss Legolas Greenleaf.

How silly. You thought to yourself. You’ve only just met him. No need to get all mushy already.

Still, you couldn’t fight the feeling in your chest at the thought of seeing him again.

Part 2

#legolas imagine #hobbit imagine #hobbit fanfiction #legolas x reader #reader insert #mirkwood #the company #kili #bofur #legolas greenleaf #the hobbit fanfic #legolas fanfiction

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legolas-is-a-himbo · 4 years

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so i’ve never read the silmarillion (i mean, i will read it. soon. hopefully. as i write this, my copy of it is staring me down from my bookshelf) but i’ve picked up a fair bit of random information from tumblr, ao3, the wiki, things i’ve come across while studying Sindarin, and of course stuff that is referenced in lotr and the hobbit.

i have pieced together a variety of things about it, most of which i have no idea to what degree of truth they are. so just for fun, y’all can enjoy my idea of what the silmarillion is all about. mostly writing this so when i do read it i can come back and see just how false this is currently~

so there’s a dude named fëanor who is an elf and he makes three silmarils which are magic light gem things but the dark lord steals them for his crown

fëanor also has a whole lot of children with a lot of different people and they are all referred to as the ‘fëanorians’. all of them including fëanor fight various dark lords and try to take back the silmarils

anyone whose name starts with m is evil

this includes sauron whose original name is either maglor or melkor or something like that and who is maybe(??) in love with someone named maedhros and who is also canonically extremely attractive. he also likes to trick people into doing evil things

there are at least three kinslayings and i’m not entirely sure what that means but i gather that warring groups of elves try to kill each other off?

everyone commits war crimes

in one of the kinslayings there is an elf named oropher who is somehow exiled or has to run away or something so he establishes himself as king of the greenwood and is more powerful than everyone else in it because they are all silvan and he is sindarin. this creates weird power dynamics. he is also the father of thranduil.

the númenorians are rewarded with the island of númenor because they have fought well in many battles. but they get corrupt and this might have something to do with sauron, and they keep trying to cheat death. they try to invade valinor and because of this númenor sinks and also the earth becomes un-flat for everyone except the elves so now only elven ships can get to valinor. this i am 99% sure is true because i specifically looked it up on the wiki.

luthien tinúviel (not sure if i got the accents/spelling right sorry) is like arwen but more powerful and she can kill people by singing. she is also extremely beautiful. she is an elf and she and a mortal named beren fall in love and they die but her singing is so heartbreaking that the gods give them both a second chance at life except she’s mortal now.

why is everyone’s fucking name start with celeb. celeborn, celebrimbor, celebrian. do they just have a lot of silver everywhere or?

celebrimbor might be in love with someone named narvi? or at least they do a lot of stuff together

someone slayed a lot of balrogs. might have been luthien and beren?

the sindar elves and the noldor elves Really Dont Like Each Other for some reason and they fight a lot

elrond is half elf and he got to choose to be an elf but his brother chose to be a mortal man

lothlórien keeps trying to take land from the greenwood? or it’s the other way around? not sure.

there are a lot of gods and they keep experimenting with yes divine intervention vs no divine intervention. no matter what they do it goes wrong.

there is someone named ecthelion and i thought this was denethor’s father but either i am totally wrong or he is also an elf but that doesn’t make any sense or there is a second person named ecthelion who is an elf

elves in the greenwood are like middle earth hillbillies?

some elves go to the sea but some do not. wood elves generally are less likely to. but once most elves hear the calling of the gulls they gotta go to valinor. there are also a variety of other types of elves, some which never go to the sea (actually i read some of the appendices in the silmarillion and i think i found this in there)

if an elf is Really In Love but their lover dies or it’s unrequited or they are separated, they can ‘fade’ and then die

there are different dialects of sindarin depending on region. people in gondor pronounce things weirdly, and again greenwood elves talk like hillbillies

there used to be a lot of dragons and people had to fight them all the time

lots of bad dangerous things come from in the north

there was ‘the last alliance’ and this involved elves and men and dwarves and they fought maybe sauron together but a lot of them died

people should know magical items are Very Dangerous And Risky but for some reason they keep trying to fuck with them and the same things keep happening

i’ll end it with that. this is probably going to make a lot of people very mad and could probably instantly kill jrrt. i apologize. i will most likely look back on this later on and become very upset.

thanks. sorry. have a good day.

#i’m a fucking idiot #it’s me i said something #(the stuff i said was really stupid)#oops #shitposting #the silmarillion #tolkien

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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An Oddly Familiar Face (Geralt x high elf reader, Part 1.)

Description: Seeing a face in dreams was a foreseeing of the incoming future, as many told you. But when the man finally comes, you don't know if it is right or wrong.

Warnings: Nothing really. Geralt and reader mostly speak in this part and also, Cirilla is here too!

Dedicated to @onlyhopebensolo since this honey bee asked me to write for them! 🖤 Also, if this isn't what you've expected, I'm so, so, so sorry my love!

A/N: I was supposed to have one part... Well... Didn't quite work out, did it? Also, I know that Thranduil is from LOTR and that he is a Sindarin elf, but I just love that bitch, okay? Let me live my dream. Also, in the end, it is heavily inspired by Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey.

Word count: 8.4 K

Tagging: @nemodoren

Another beautiful day in the Garden was just begging, one of many to come. Flowers were blossoming all year long, so your people were almost always provided with food and alcohol for a good mood. You had endless fields full of various animals, like the sacred deers with white fur, tamed wolves, whatever caught your eye, really. The Garden was piece heaven located on the Continent - a normal human being couldn't stumble there without a proper map or coordinates since it was protected by many spells of the ancient mages.

The high elves were living in the Garden since the dawn of the Continent - before the chaos started to rule over and before the first Witcher schools were created or even before humans arrived. The founders came alongside other elder races - dwarves and gnomes. The Garden was home to an old elvish family who were never referred to with the name of their dynasty. The other elves only called these ones Hain, which meant Them when translated to a general language of the Continent.

Hain provided for the Garden since it was built around the sacred tree which was giving life - Hain were making contact with the outside world, sometimes exchanging items like meteorite steel, leather, diamonds or clothing. Sometimes humans asked for their fruits or alcohol, sometimes they sought answers or help from the Hain and the other elves.

Even if you did have a good name among the human race, you never got into their wars, fights or conflicts. You were always only the watchers standing in the shadows.

One sacred yet cruel rule applied to all the elves who decided to leave the Garden - all of them were forbidden to ever come back. The elves outside were your distant family, yes, but no Hain supported a relationship between elves and the other races. So, you distanced from the descendants of such relationships as much as you could.

There was an ancient purity kept in your relationships - a Hain could only marry a member of another Hain dynasty, and all of the elves living in the Garden were established families with the purest blood they could possibly have, letting their children marry in such way that there was no room for anything unpure. It was a weird thing, but elves were obsessed with pure blood since the dawn of ages.

Of course, if there was an elf in need, you provided food, clothes, whatever the person needed - but you never let them inside Garden. That was the holy rule and nobody was brave enough to go against it. For those who lived there, it was a sacred home and to lose a place in this society meant utter shame for every of those who left.

Hain had their people all over the continent, monitoring the situation - mostly it were spies hiding in the big cities of the Continent, bringing information twice or once a year before setting off to the world again. Your people were known for the wisdom and reserved attitude they were born with.

Also, Hain were known for possessing ancient powers inherited from the elder elves - powers of foreseeing their future, the powers of reading minds and an unbelievable portion of chaos running inside their veins. All of them were great sorcerers.

But you came across differently than the others - you were able to perform difficult spells, yes, but your gift was unlike anyone else's. One day, you started to see visions in your dreams, yet you weren't predicting the future.

You were seeing a man, a tall one with hair of white and silver, carrying a sword on his back and a heavy armor on his body. You first saw him when he has woken up from a slumber in deep woods, but he clearly didn't know what, who or where he was. You saw this man lost himself in the woods and he felt... Empty. Like an amphora - without memories, without feelings... There was nothing inside.

You never learned his name from your dreams, nor where he was living or how old was he. You only knew that he had a medallion around his neck and that although he bore a recognizable similarity to the human race, he wasn’t one of them. You've heard a few stories about the man - never mentioned by name, he was a shadow called the White Wolf.

When you saw him slaying monsters from the conjunction for the first time, it made your heart race with an unknown feeling. When you have woken up that night, you felt that you're... Afraid. You looked at your hands and wondered since you never felt so alive throughout the eons you've lived for. Adrenaline was rushing through your veins, your hands were shaking and breathing was getting heavy.

That was the first time you lightened up the lamp in your room, took an old sketching book and drawn him as he pierced his sword through the beast's chest. You could see everything vividly in your head - the yellow blood dripping out of its body, its opened mouth full of sharp teeth and claws reaching out for the White Wolf.

After that, you sketched him after every dream, killing your time with it. You had details of his face and body, of his equipment, of the monsters he slew, of his pendant. You had soon sketched three whole books just with the remnants of your dreams. You knew him, or so you felt, even if you never heard his name or voice.

Hain naturally inclined to believe in destiny as well as humans did - they only had their own names, legends, and explanations. Naturally, when you told your maid and sister that you see a man in your dreams, both of them agreed that it's the destiny manifesting in its own way.

"Maybe he's going to come for you and save you from here." - Elion, your sister, said with a mysterious giggle as she sat on your bed. That was the first time you ever showed them Wolf's sketches. You both were very similar to each other by the looks since you were born out of the light as twins. She was more provocative and confident than you were, that was how your mother always knew who is who.

Elion always dreamt of falling in love and leaving the Garden to live a life as a mortal elf, she dreamt of true love, adventures and crazy things that were just not possible for a Hain. She hated living in the Gardens for eons, she hated living the same day again and again. - "He is very handsome by the looks of it." - Elion admitted quietly, watching each of your drawings with her eyebrows knitted together.

On the other hand, your main maid Gael, one of the nobles, wasn't exactly over the heels for you seeing the Wolf in your dreams. She was worried that it might mean a catastrophe approaching you and your family.

But when the day destiny planned to reveal itself to you through Geralt, it all started as a normal morning. You have woken up to singing birds and beautifully smelling flowers, sun and the tree of life shining through your balcony.

There was no need for windows in the Garden. It was well protected with the ancient magic, so the weather never got too bad, it only rained a bit from time to time, so you could smell the flowers as if it was blossoming just in front of your nose.

The dream you had was a different one - yes, you saw the Wolf with other beings, such as whores, other Wolves or sorceresses before, but you never saw him with a child by his side. It was a girl dressed in a blue cape. She was pretty, truly pretty with her green, big eyes and long, ashen hair. By the time you were done with your drawing, you have breakfast served and robe prepared, so you could put it on and start your day.

Since your father always thought you're the more reasonable child, he was always pleased to see you at the gathering when new intel was delivered to the Garden. That day, nothing important happened - the spy from Cintra still wasn't back, Nilfgaardians were still trying to take Temeria out of the play and Skellige... Well... They were the mighty islanders who never got into the wars happening on the Continent.

Also, there was a slowly fading need for supplies in Novigrad since most of the elves living in the city joined Scoia'tael, the resistance of non-human beings.

Just when you were in the middle of a debate about the Novigrad situation, one of your maids rushed into the room, catching everyone’s attention.

"I don't know how did it happen, but a man with a girl in his arms just crossed the gate to the Garden." - She said with a tone full of wonder. A man with a girl? That sure sounded familiar to you. - "He said that he means no harm to us, but the girl is very sick."

"How do they look like?" - You asked, playing with the jewelry around your neck, letting the discussion to be completely forgotten. There was something way more... Arousing going on.

"Both of ashen hair, fair-skinned. Neither of them is human." - The maid said and your breath got stuck in your throat. A man with a girl, both white-haired. White Wolf and his small girl you saw in your dream. You needed to see them, to talk with them, to determine yourself that they're real.

"And they found themselves way in? On their own? That's impossible." - Your father, one of the elders, stood up with confusion on his face. You couldn't contain your excitement for a while as you tried to catch your breath. - "Well, give them food and water to drink, bring them blankets and let them rest in the hall of Rovan, help the girl. We can't just send them away now when they're in."

Your father was a wise man. He wasn't too over the heels that these two were there. But then they already got on, elves were inclined to show the guests hospitality. If the girl wasn't all right, nobody would just send them away.

But you were excited. Maybe overexcited to say the least. The Wolf was there. Your destiny had to be linked and you felt the need to see him. You immediately asked your father to have an audience with him or the other way around.

"Are you interested in the foreigner, my child?" - Your father asked when you slowly walked through the gardens together. This stroll was a common thing happening every midday. You didn't answer but you gave him a smile. - "Do you think that foreigners are something special? I tell you, they are not. They are dirty from the sin and outside world, their minds were corrupted with chaos and anarchy. Why would you like to speak to them?"

"That's a difficult question to answer, my dear father." - You answered quietly and looked at the colorful spectrum of orchids by your side.

"We have eternity to explain and eons to understand." - The voice of your father could be heard again. You only wished to be as wise as he was, to be completely clear with your thoughts and to always look away from your personal struggles and opinions to be a fair judge. Your father had that ability - understandingly, it took eons to master, but he could be pure with opinions and words.

"I am sure that the man's destiny is somehow linked with mine. I don't know-how is that possible when we never met before, but I saw him in my dreams. Every night of last five human years, I saw him." - You explained the fastest way around, simply, yet complex enough not to see everything immediately.

"It is possible, yes. It happens rarely, but it isn't the first time I hear about this. Maybe, you were just foreseeing that he and his daughter will come, that is the better option." - Your father stopped and smoothed a big, blue rose, smelling it gently. - "If it's the other way around, there is a possibility that you're meant to do great things by his side. That's destiny. It always shows Hain their path, but never explains what does lead to that situation or what consequences will it bring."

"So you're telling me that it's possible that I'm drawn to him because of what does destiny has in the plan, yet it can bring fatal consequences." - You repeated after your father in with thoughts present in your voice. Honestly, it wasn't easy to determine if it excited you if it brought you a fair amount of terror. Obviously, you were drawn to the man because of destiny. But destiny could have practically any plans for you.

"It wouldn't be wise to denying you from seeing the man. I will tell others to separate him so you could talk in private. See him when you'll be ready, my child. And prepare for whatever your dialogue can bring." - Your father said calmly, yet you could tell that it doesn't make him happy. What if destiny planned you to separate from your family? What if it takes one of his daughters away? How should a father react to news like those?

It was almost midnight when someone finally decided to talk to the Witcher. He was nervously sitting in the hall they brought him to the whole time, not being sure about what to think. The elves just told him to wait and that everything will be revealed when the time's right and left him with food and blanket. Geralt knew that it wouldn't be wise to go against the elder's decision. So he sat there and waited just as he was told - some maids served him even more plates of delicious food and alcohol, scrolls with legends to read and an overlook onto the whole Garden where he could watch the nearby celebration.

When he heard first footsteps, he immediately turned his head in the direction of the source. Geralt's head turned on a figure which was ascending the stairs made out of perfectly white stone with railing from the purest crystal he had ever seen. It also felt like an eternity since he saw Ciri for the last time. He didn't know what the elves were doing to her or where she was - he was only hoping that Cirilla is alive and well.

Hain were something who Geralt knew he can put his trust into. They were joyful, delighted, intelligent a most of the time very reserved. But they were creatures that could be trusted.

This one was somehow different, Geralt could tell that straight away. Her hair was neatly brushed with lots of jewelry braided in it, yes, but that was where the similarity to other Hain was ending. Not so say that she was wearing a piece of clothing that could be barely taken as underwear - her silhouette was covered with many layers of a see-through material, only her bra and shorts made of heavy, dark blue cloth, making them almost impossible not to be seen.

There was no doubt that she truly belonged to the celestial beings class. She could've been hundreds, thousands of years old, but she still looked like a fresh nineteen-year-old. And a huge wolf was walking beside her. That wasn't just some big and scary dog, she had a real wolf.

"My sincerest apologies to you, dear mister, for taking too long to have at least someone speaking to you." - You smiled at him, making a quick, sharp noise with your lips only. The beast beside you ran next to Geralt and laid down on a big piece of a mattress covered in thick, very expansive cloth. You laughed when you saw Geralt looking at the wolf listening to you like an obedient lamb.

"What? Don't tell me that you're scared of a little wolf." - Your amused laughter filled the room once again before you poured your guest some wine, giving him the cup.

You were interested in the Witcher because he came to your house from the outside world. For the sake of everything, you didn't know much about him - you only heard some stories and legends about the White Wolf. You had no idea what his name was, how old could he be, if he was in love or not... You just knew that he was the one and only White Wolf.

"I'm more shocked that you're not afraid to stay in one room with something like me." - Geralt smiled and accepted the cup of wine you were giving him. Then you swayed away to a big sofa with crystal details, sitting at the edge of it.

"Something? You forgot that I'm a non-human too. I'm that something you're implying as well." - Your gaze was directed at him before you started to play with the rings on your hands. - "And you don't seem to be utterly stupid - you know that if you try to harm me, the wolf will attack you immediately. It will tear you apart and you're aware of that."

You were truly smart and Geralt was amazed by all of it. He was mesmerized since he never imagined the elder race to... Act and look like that. Geralt heard stories about Hain and the Garden hidden on the Continent, but he never imagined that it will look like that. It was truly a beautiful, sacred place built around an ancient tree that was rumored to give life, the flowers there were ones Geralt has never seen before. You were able to mutate and enhance animals, their abilities and their lifespan. Every elf he had seen was a descendant of the elder race and that could be easily spotted - from the way you behaved to the way you were speaking, acting, dressing up... He had figured out that almost immediately - the descendants of the elder race. Some of Hain were even the ones were who came there at the dawn of the Continent. They were thousands of years old and looked as a normal forty-year-old would.

"So that's the legend going around the Continent, is it? Witchers are utterly stupid creatures." - The White Wolf laughed ironically and sat down with the cup of sweet wine you gave him. He was facing you and you couldn't but wonder with your eyes around his face. Geralt couldn't look away from you as well - smiling lips, beautiful hair and long, elegant ears full of jewelry. If every Hain was as beautiful as you were, this was heaven.

"I have never said that. Only a few stories are going around the Garden about the Witchers." - You shook your head and laughed. - "Just as there are only a few stories about the elder race and the Hain. There are already more similarities between us that I would ever suspect. Interesting."

"I wouldn't say that something like me can be similar to you." - Geralt smiled and took another sip of the wine. It was a good one - your people truly knew how to brew some good alcohol.

"I'm very interested in you, Witcher. But first, tell me this. A little riddle, if you will." - You slowly stood up and walked around the room, pouring yourself some nectar. Then you turned to the White Wolf again, standing in the moonlight. - "How comes that a monster slayer graces the Continent along with a small girl, who also happens to be a Source? How did you come across this girl, White Wolf?"

"Do you have some suspicion? Come on, just tell me. I'm interested in your theories. And don't hold back, I've already heard everything." - The man chuckled at you and you watched as he leaned back on his elbow, looking like million Orens. That man was unbelievable. But very amusing.

"I heard that Witcher abduct little children and take them to their schools to create a new generation. Are you really doing that?" - You wondered and still stood in the moonlight. There, you really looked like an elder. Beautiful skin, endless legs and see-through materials around your body were messed with a wind.

"In fact, all of that was supported by the law of surprise. No Witcher ever raided a village and abducted a child. The Witchers always saved lives from the monsters and for payment, they always asked for a thing the people already had, yet you didn’t know about it." - Geralt implied and sipped the wine again.

"The prize was a child. But tell me, Wolf. Is it better to take a child out of their mother’s loving embrace, letting the women and men live with the feeling that it was all their fault... Or is it better to abduct the children, so at least, the people can spend their life hating the Witchers, but not blaming themselves?" - You asked with a sincere curiousness and moved to the balcony to stand in the warm breeze.

"There was always a life saved and a payment that needed to be paid." - Geralt shrugged his shoulders and smiled, looking into the distance. That smile was not happy at all - it was more embarrassed than amused. - "But that's the past. There's no need for the Witchers and that means that nobody has to train another generation, which results in happy families."

"So, you haven't abducted this girl? Don't tell me that she is your daughter. If so, ashen hair clearly runs in family." - You smiled at him, looking at a few of the noble elves dancing under the moonlight, playing lutes and drinking. There was nothing that could harm them and their passion for life... You loved that place so much.

"She's running from Nilfgaardians, as a lot of other people do these days. She was born in Cintra," - Geralt said, but you snapped at him, silencing him in an instant. For a moment, there was silence before you let out a short breath.

"Are we talking about the daughter of princess Pavetta of Cintra, who was also the daughter of Calanthé of Cintra? Born under the house of Raven?" - You looked at Geralt, slowly approaching the sofa. You surely didn't look like it, but you did in fact panicked.

"Yes. Cintra fell down in flames, but not without a fight. Nilfgaard is controlling the area at the moment." - Wolf stated as a fact, like if you should know about it. - "You elves really sleep on the hottest news, let me tell you."

"Our spy didn't come back from Cintra. We thought that maybe he fell in love or some other nonsense and decided to leave us. I will have to inform my father when we're done." - Your head nodded and slowly, you sat next to the Wolf again.

"When we're done? Is this an interrogation?".- Wolf chuckled. The wine was stronger than it appeared to be from the start.

"Sort of. When I told you that I'm interested in you, I was speaking the truth. You're a long time mystery to me." - You curled your knees under you, leaning down next to almost laid down Geralt.

"We met literally fifteen minutes ago. What's your name? I don't want to call you Miss Elf." - The Wolf chuckled and looked at you, finishing the cup of wine with one long swing.

"Y/N of Hain. And yours, Wolf?" - You smiled at the man, watching the contours of his face you grew to know by heart. Ashen hair of white and silver, golden eyes that sometimes appeared like a cat's eye, sharp lips and a round chin. Just as in your dreams. But... Better. He was a beautiful human being.

"Geralt of Rivia. A pleasure to meet you." - The Witcher took your palm gently and kissed the knuckles as you noticed the swift curling of his nose. Did Geralt of Rivia just smell you? That almost made you giggle.

"We have much to talk about, Geralt of Rivia. But take a rest now, lay down and sleep. I'll find you again when the time's right. And don't worry about Cirilla. Now, when we know who she is, we will do our best to help her." - You gently took the palm our of his, smiling at the man once again. Your wine was really strong after all. Before you left him alone, you called your beast to accompany you once again.

Geralt was left there to wander alone for what seemed to be a few days, but it was really hard to say how long he was in the Garden actually. The people were nice to him, kindly offered him food and drinks, fresh clothes and baths, they talked with him when he wanted to be entertained, but there were no signs of Cirilla the whole time. And even if the people were nice, they still were reserved. And the Garden also didn't have a whorehouse where would Geralt spent the night with the most pleasant relaxation of all.

You found him again that evening when he was watching the sunset, you walked to him dressed in a long robe resembling a negligee.

"And we meet again, Y/N." - Geralt bowed and gave you an amused smile. You chuckled at his acting. He sure seemed healthier and relaxed than when he and Cirilla arrived. Maybe the fact that he had fresh clothes made by your best seamstresses. It sure looked good on him. Again, he took your palm and kissed, more as a form of poking fun at the gentleman-ish behavior than actually meaning it.

But you noticed that he smelled your scent yet again, as he closed his eyes for a second.

"We do. Come now, Witcher, we'll talk." - You waved at him, leading him to one of the bathhouses. When you entered, all of the elves gave you an elegant bow before they helped you with taking the robe off of your body, tugging it down to your ankles. You remained dressed in a one-piece looking like a swimsuit. Then, you ascended into the hot water full of white orchids, humming even you felt your muscles slowly relax.

"So. As I told you, Geralt, so I meant. I'm interested in you." - He earned a smile as he sat on a bench from white stone, watching you in the water. - "You are the pinpoint of my interest at the moment, dear Witcher."

"What makes me so special of all the creatures you can talk to?" - Geralt gave you a smirk, leaning his elbows to his knees. He leaned much closer to you, watching you moving in water, small drops traveling on your shoulders.

"The fact that I'm seeing you in my dreams every night, slaying monsters, drinking alone in inns... Making love to women. All of that is what makes me so drawn to you. I know a lot about you, Geralt of Rivia, more than you'd suspect." - You said and disappeared under the water for a moment to clean your ears and hair. And it was a pleasurable look, when you straightened again, giving Witcher another look.

"Should I be scared or amused? Are you purposely watching me?" - The Witcher smiled at you, watching you put soap on your skin, gently massaging it in. You were pretty. Truly pretty. You wore every small drop like a diamond or a pearl, like one of your best pieces of jewelry. And the wet hair was framing your face and ears just right.

"Neither of those. I think that our minds work in the same radius or something like that. I haven't seen you in my dreams until a night before... Five human years. Something must've clicked inside of you, something had to change." - You said simply, cleaning yourself from the soap as you walked to one of the maids, letting them braid your hair.

"So, you've seen the worst and the best of me, I suppose." - Geralt said jokingly and that was the first time it made you laugh as well. And you were gorgeous. Truly, Geralt couldn't bring himself to look away for a small second.

"Depends on what you think is your worst and what is the best, Geralt. I won't lie, there are things I would like to see with my own eyes." - You answered and your tone sounded darker for a moment. Could that be a sign of affection? Or lust in the better option? When you saw the man flicking tongue over his lower lip, you needed to make the things clearer. - "Like slaying a Kikimora or play those funny cards."

Geralt nodded understandingly, being sure that there was something more in your demand. But you pretended like that haven’t happened at all.

“How did you become a Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, might I ask?” - You stepped out of the water and let the other elves to gently dry your skin with a silk towel.

“Simply. My mother took me to a fortress named Kaer Morhen located in Keadwen. I suspect she has done it since she was tied with Vesemir, that's my mister, by the law of surprise. I've met Vienna since here and there, but we are really nothing more than strangers.” - Geralt answered honestly and you nodded.

“I heard from father’s friend that you are called Gwynbleidd, meaning the White Wolf. Is that true? Also, how can you be a Geralt of Rivia when you were raised in Kaedwen? And turn around, please.” - You asked so many questions and you truly were interested. You wanted to get to know Geralt. You were curious and eager to learn more.

Geralt truly got up and turned around to look outside, his eyes still sneaking to look behind the towel with the mirror on the wall. You weren't exactly stupid, so you moved your lips and snapped. - “You better leave those eyes looking directly in front of you and start answering the questing, Gwynbleidd. Or you know what happens.” - You warned him and the great wolf accompanying you entered the bathroom, looking more like a spa.

“Alright, alright.” - Geralt truly turned away and looked outside once more, letting you have your space, while the wolf sat onto the bench in front of him. - “To answer your first question, yes, that is in fact true. Although I don't hear it that often, some call me Gwynbleidd. And why am I Geralt of Rivia and not Geralt of Keadwen? Well, that is a long story.”

“As my father says, we have eternity to explain and eons to understand. Start talking, Witcher. Don't leave me hanging.” - You turned your head to him briefly, taking a long robe on, covering your whole body with a few layers of clothing.

“Vesemir told us to choose a name when we were in training. The clientele is more likely to believe someone with a surname than someone without it. They believe that we are really hailing to a certain part of the world, which made us seem more... Human. I wished to be Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde, but that didn't exactly make it to the final cut. I chose Rivia, learned how to mimic their accent and I happen to save queen Meve’s army before Nilfgaardians. Geralt of Rivia, the mighty knight, at your service.” - He jokingly bowed to the wolf and for a moment, the animal seemed to be amused with the Witcher.

“That makes a lot of things clearer.” - You walked from behind the towel, the train of your robe was a good few feet behind you. - “Thank you for sharing and being honest with me, Geralt. I appreciate it. Now, excuse me once again, since I have my duties as a Hain and I have to check on Zireael.”

At that moment, Geralt ignored the animal in front of him, turning at you with anticipation. You knew what he is about to ask. You just looked at him and spoke way before he could ask. - “Worry not, Wolf, she is alive and well. I know that it is maybe harsh for you to be without your small girl so long, but she needs space to rest and to regain the containment to posses the elder powers. I swear to you on my life that we mean no harm to the girl and we take care of her as one of our own. Just as we take care of you.”

“I trust you. You are elves descending from the elder blood, after all. When can I see her?” - Geralt asked quietly, leaving the spa by your side. You exhaled slowly.

“Today, actually. There will be a celebration because Hain dynasties take elder blood very, very seriously. There are not a lot of beings who possess the power, not even elvish. Zireael is special.” - You bowed a bit and Geralt did as well, smiling at you lightly before kissing your hand once again - and sniffing it as well. You got a brief feeling that maybe, the Witcher could be somehow attracted to you, or whatever. You want sure since the elves rarely mingled or court shipped each other before they got married.

You looked him in the eyes, leaning your head to your shoulder with a smile. You didn't even realize that you were blushing at that moment, even if you noticed that your heart rate was higher than usual.

“I will find you if you want to accompany me in the evening. Actually, I insist that you will be my company.” - You walked past him, being followed by the Wolf, walking towards one of the buildings, looking like grace itself.

You knew where Cirilla was - you have visited her many times before, just talking to her, learning more about her - that she was an orphan raised by her grandmother, that Geralt of Rivia accidentally called the law of surprise, not knowing that Pavetta is pregnant and why exactly she is escaping the Nilfgaardians. But at the end of the day, she was still only a thirteen-year-old, no matter if she was a princess or a descendant of the elders. You kept her in a spacious room full of various animals she could play with, you kept your eye on her, making her eat, bathe and drink something.

Cirilla, or as you called her, Zireael, didn't exactly adore you, but she developed some kind of relationship towards you. She trusted you since you were a face she seemed often. She kept asking about Geralt, but you succeeded to calm her down, telling her that her dear Witcher is still inside the walls of the Garden, waiting for her to take her time.

You found her petting one of wolf cubs, playing with it. She immediately acknowledged your presence and smiled at you, having the cub laid down on her lap.

“How are you feeling today? Are you better?” - You sat on the sofa, watching Zireael sitting on the ground. She nodded and exhaled. - “Less tired for sure. But I'm starting to get bored, being locked all day in here. No offense to your hospitality, but I don't find funny doing the same things over and over again.”

At least, she was honest. You chuckled and nodded at her. For some, it was boring - but since you lived for eons, you already have found your system and things to spend the endless life with. Elves were just different than humans.

“And no offense taken. You will be fine in no time at all, that’s what I can promise, Zireael. But I want to talk with you today. It is important.” - You patted on the seat beside. As you usually did, Ciri turned her back at you so you could braid her ashen hair with complex elvish hairstyles, braiding in jewelry. - “Tell me now, what do you know about your powers?”

“That I can't contain them. That chaos... It is too strong for me. I don't know how to control it, I don't know when the powers show themselves again. They are too much for me and I can do multiple things. Like, I can scream funny.” - She answered and you giggled at that. You liked the way she talked to you - you could feel how young she actually is.

“You, my dear Shallow, are a Source. Before you ask, let me explain.” - You calmed her down, feeling the incoming questions in the air. Cirilla nodded and you put another strand of hair on its place.

“A Source is someone who was born with strong magical abilities, not like the ones sorceresses have. Our chaos, mine and yours, is different than theirs. It comes from the power of the elder ones and their blood. Your powers can be contained only with will and training, but it is possible. Remember that understanding comes with time and that you can't rush it. Try to use the powers with your will and just concentrate on that. Give it the time. Neither I learned everything about my abilities, not just yet.” - You calmed her down, smoothing a trail over the back of her neck. - “Remember that you the more you will be in stress, the more powerful the chaos inside of you gets. It is yet to be determined how many abilities you will possess, but I am very curious about that. Also, I have a question. Have you found the Garden?” - You asked silently, finishing the braid with a gentle, yet masterful knot.

Ciri got quiet for a while before she shook her head. You thaught all the time that Ciri found the Garden since she was of elder blood. But this obviously wasn't the case. - “Then how did you got in?”

“Geralt led the way since I passed out at the moment we entered a small village. I don't know how he did it, he just told me that he... He had a feeling. Something inside was leading him until he passed the magical barrier. That was the moment I woke up and saw about twenty elves in a beautiful dress standing in front of us alongside two soldiers. They were clearly surprised.” - Ciri told you and to you, it sounded like she was telling the truth.

So it wasn't her and her elder abilities. Your suspicion clearly failed. Was there a possibility that the connection could be present on both sides? Could Geralt feel that you are somewhere out there as well? Was your connection made by destiny supposed to save Ciri?

“All right. That makes sense.” - You patted her shoulder and tried to look cool looking her in the face. - “You look very pretty, princess of Cintra. Now, you will come with me and together, we will prepare for a celebration.”

As you told Ciri, you took her to your chambers where she had her dress prepared as well - your robe was rather extravagant, made in light blue with sparkly stones holding on your breast, worn with an elegant robe in the color of lilacs. Cirilla was dressed in the color of gold made precisely on her tiny figure.

“You look like an angel.” - She whispered when you came from the bedroom with new jewelry around your neck, fingers, and ears. You chuckled and shook your head, nodding at Ciri to get to your side. - “Is the gentleman ready?” - You asked your maid who was supposed to monitor Geralt while he had to clean up and dress up for the occasion as well.

“Yes, Hain, the gentleman is ready and awaiting you.” - The elf bowed to you and you did as well, Ciri repeating your actions as well. You lend her a few pieces of your jewelry and she truly looked like she has something in common with the elves.

When she saw Geralt, it felt like a heavyweight was lifted off her shoulders. She almost started to cry when she ran down the rest of the stairs down to hug him tightly, burying her face in his chest. You didn't smile at the sight, neither you actually looked at them, you just felt happy inside. Geralt exhaled loudly and his eyes closed with the sudden calmness that washed all over him and his soul. Cirilla looked alive and well, just as you promised.

And you looked just like a masterpiece. When Geralt finally let the girl out of his arms and his look landed you, he actually stopped thinking for a moment. Your scent got into his nose again and occupied his mind, just as it always did. Usually, when he kissed your hand, he tried to get the most essence directly from your skin, but you just smelled wonderful.

He also thought about the same thing as you did - if he found the Garden on his own, could you be the beacon that led him there? Were you sending signals that begged for salvation and deliverance? Was it even possible? It could be since destiny proved you that you and Geralt will meet and cross paths one day. But you were slowly possessing his mind. Only one woman could do that, but she was far gone and forsaken the Witcher, probably for good that time.

As always, he slowly bowed before he approached you, this time, he was very cautious with the bow, looking you in the eyes the whole time. Then his palm caught yours and kissed your knuckles full of jewelry, just as his lips always did. Ciri was looking at you with interest in her eyes, watching both you and Geralt.

She heard him talking about some sorceress named Yennefer who fought in the battle of Sodden and when Cirilla and Geralt visited Sodden, there was a stone obelisk including two big names - Yennefer of Vengenberg and Triss Merigold. Ciri understood that Yennefer is the one who Geralt was searching for - seeing him eyeing someone else was gross, but it made her smile.

You looked at Geralt when he offered his elbow to entwine with, and you were completely confused. Of course, you were a high elf - you didn't walk around like normal beings did. You raised your hand to the air, in the middle of you and Geralt, waiting for his palm to support yours. It looked awfully similar to a wedding march, but Geralt shut his mouth and lead you to the greatest hall in the Gardens, just in the middle of a great elvish feast.

Elvish feasts, unlike any others, were pretty calm and always light-hearted events full of the best food, lutes playing, socially acceptable dancing and never anything going wrong - any fistfights, any arguments. You led both Geralt and Ciri to the head of a long table, to sit alongside the Hain as guests of honor.

And to be honest, the celebration was enjoyable for both Cirilla and Geralt. They were mesmerized with old elvish tales sang in the old language of elves. And the food was just out of the world - there were salads, sweet treats, meat served in a style that Geralt has never seen ever before, various fruits and uncommon vegetables. The light was slowly going out and you couldn't but notice that the Witcher disappeared, since he was no longer sitting next to you. You formally excused yourself and went to search for the lost guest.

You found him after a while - he was alone, sitting on a bench in the gardens on the east, watching the sun slowly setting down behind the horizon, making the sky around it pink. It was a beautiful sight and sometimes, you watched it as well.

“Are you not amused by the feast, Wolf?” - You asked and sat beside him, watching the sunset as well.

“it’s not like that. I know you don't want us here, but you showed us a warm embrace and that is something I can appreciate.” - Geralt told you and turned his look you. You smiled, playing with your jewelry again.

“We would never eject guests who found the way into the Garden on their own. Even more fascinating is that you overcame the magic on your own. All respect to you for that.” - You answered honestly and Geralt smirked as well.

“Sunsets are just a sight, aren't they?” - Geralt asked simply, silenced for a moment and then spoke again. - “For many people, it is the sign that the day has ended and another one is coming, but not for Witchers. For me, it means a small moment of complete peace with the world, where monsters don't exist and can't attack me or anyone else. I guess that I am a sunset lover.”

You tried your best to understand, but you weren't a witcher and you never met any beast. You never left the Garden. It was like a utopian city hidden in the world of chaos - perfect, yet stereotypical. You never tasted the thrill of adventure, the feeling of fear when you would be fighting for your life.

“I know you cant understand. That's fine. Don't worry about it. Soon, we’ll disappear and everything will be all right again.” - Geralt brushed off with a hurting tone. You took a small breath in and didn't know what to answer to that man. So you shut up and let him talk.

“I have lived enough to taste every feeling - loss, happiness, something like love and physical lust, sadness, fear. But I never felt anything like this. Destiny knew that we’ll meet and bonded us together.” - Geralt furrowed and looked away from you. - “But I think that was just a joke that was told one time and it's not funny anymore.”

“What kind of joke?” - You whispered back, feeling new feelings and emotions awakening inside of you. You felt many things throughout the eons you’ve lived for - you’ve felt delighted, happy, sad, nostalgic, melancholic, but you never felt the thing you were feeling at that moment.

“Destiny bonded me with a woman who is beautiful, mysterious and charming. I never talk this much with anyone, but when you’re around, I can't bring myself to shut up. Somehow, you confuse me and interest me without doing absolutely nothing more than asking questions.” - Geralt looked away and exhaled loudly. There was a prolonged silence as you tried to contain the emotions and brought yourself back together - but your cheeks were almost burning, your heart rate was off the charts, making you deaf for long seconds and your eyes hung on every single word he said.

“The beauty is just a mask I’m wearing, Geralt of Rivia. Everyone here is just as beautiful as I am, but what are we inside? Have you thought of that? We just live from one day to another, we do the same things every day since we grow up and we insert ourselves into the politics of men, which shouldn’t our concern at all. One day, even I will get old and die, but that is eons, eons away. You have a real life. I just exist. It was a cruel move from destiny to bring such an interesting man my way and I’m not sure if I will ever get back to my normal life or if I will be anticipating every night just to see you in my dreams.” - You answered with a shaky tone, then you stood up and walked onto a terrace above the sea to take a few breaths in, just watching the sunset.

“Is everything alright?” - Geralt asked quietly after a while, following you onto the terrace.

“I'm just confused. I feel my heart pounding and I'm short with the breath, my head is spinning... I never felt that before. What does it mean?” - You asked back without looking at him.

“That means you're alive. For the first time in your life.” - Geralt stood up next to you, moving his left palm so close that your fingers almost brushed. - “Nothing is better than that.”

And then he slipped his hand to cover yours and your gaze just stuck at the place where your bodies were touching. He felt warm. His palms were completely dry. And his touch was gentle, so much, that you had goosebumps just as you normally did when you were cold, which didn't happen often.

“Can you show me more of what it means to be alive?” - You whispered to him, taking another shaky breath in when his hand moved onto your shoulder, as it made its way to the back of your neck.

You got very nervous when he moved his body closer, pressing you onto him, holding the back of your neck. You felt like fainting and you barely stood on your legs. It was a warm touch, the gentlest one which felt like tightest. But you didn't want him to let you go. For some reason, his eyes were flickering between your wide opened eyes and lips.

When your lips finally touched, it felt like electricity going through your veins and your whole body, making you stiff from your head to your toes. It felt like heaven. And you would never say that someone else can have a taste - and Geralt tasted sweet with small remains of chocolate.

You didn't even know that you stood there until the moon rose into the sky, stars shining down. First, you were scared to even move. After a while, you tried some things and in the end, you knew perfectly what you were doing. You hand roamed Wolf’s body on its own as you instinctively tried to feel more of your body.

Gael was right when she predicted that the man in your dreams will mean a catastrophe for you. You have sinned, maybe even unaware. But you finally felt alive.

And nothing felt better than that.

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #the white wolf #gwynbleidd #the witcher netflix #princess cirilla #princess ciri #zireael #andrzej sapkowski #the world of the witcher #here you go #enjoy please

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extremelyblackandwhite · 5 years

Text

a new beginning - 04

Pairing: LOTR! James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

Warnings: so far go right ahead, no danger. except for bucky oogling the reader.

A/N: sorry for taking long with this one. i found myself being stressed about metabolism and diagnostic techniques for the 4th time.

Main Masterlist

James enjoyed the princess’ company despite her blind optimism. She was young, she hadn’t seen half the things he’d seen and somehow he felt like pushing her into reality and out of her imagination bubble was a bad idea. Y/N was incredibly sweet, she would come around his room bringing him food better than the one from the medical wing or would try and make sure he was able to go outside and take a brief sight of the outside. However, he still thought he’d seen her before even though he’d never travelled to Rohan. He remembered her face from long years ago when he was a child, from dreams. Maybe he did know her from his dreams or maybe the morphine was finally coming to him.

- Morning, Lord Barnes. - she said as he passed through the halls along with some of the medical staff. His eyes scanned her, almost stunned. She was dressed differently, hair held high supporting one of her head pieces that came around her forehead and fell in teardrops of gems matching her navy velvet blue dress. - How are your wounds this morning?

- Recovering, Lady Y/N. - he gave her a slight smile, still unsure of how to act around a princess. At least how to act around a princess like Y/N. - I’m sure I’ll be able to leave before dawn.

- Why so soon? - she questioned trying not to look urgent. There weren’t many people who were close to her age, at least as close as she and the ranfer were. Most of the people on court were friends of her parents from the Fellowship and while Legolas and her looked close in age, he was way older than her. It was nice to be surrounded by someone other than children and court. - Rohan will house you until you gain your strengths, sir.

- I don’t belong here, Lady Y/N. I must return to where I belong. I can’t impose on your kindness anymore, milady. - he replied to her, full on listening to the whispers coming from the medical staff behind him.

- Well, you must stay for my birthday. - she asked him, grabbing his hands which shocked him. He wasn’t used to be touched, at least not by a gentle touch but she had gave him that almost without even noticing. He guessed some people were indeed born to be royalty. - Please, all of Rohan and Rohan’s allies are invited. After that, we’ll provide you with our best horse and armour and you can leave. An ngell nin, my Hir. (Please, my lord)

- You speak Sindarin, my lady? - he raised his eyebrows at her. Sindarin was a dead language in Middle Earth ever since the elves left and only a few remaining elves knew how to speak it but that wouldn’t be something they’d teach someone else.

- Legolas taught me. - she smiled proudly. - Do you speak it, Sir James?

- I know a bit that I’ve learned from my travels, mui ladui (my lady). - she blushed at his accent. It was rough, clearly sometimes he had picked up on his travels and not taught by an elf who would’ve made sure he picked on an accent from one of the elven kingdoms. - If it pleases you, I shall attend your birthday.

- I shall warn my parents then. If you excuse me. - she curtsied to him and the medical staff before turning to go meet her parents. Nonetheless, James couldn’t help but stare at her. The way she moved made her look like the night falling on the night sky with her velvet blue stuff and jewellery. She was truly a vision and he always felt stuck in a haze whenever she showed up.

As for Y/N, she was walking into her parents headquarters until she was stopped by Legolas placing himself in front of her. The princess crossed her arms, feeling like everything but to start a petty argument with him which by the looks of it seemed to be what he wanted.

- I know what you’re during, dilthen iel.

- What am I doing, Legolas? - she crossed her arms.

- You’re gonna hurt yourself, Y/N. He can’t stay forever. - he sighed, knowing the situation all too well. - I do realise you’ve never really ...

- Are you hinting that I have romantic feelings towards Lord Barnes? Because if it is, Legolas, I can promise you the only thing I feel for him is care and worry.

- You’re a princess, you know what is asked of you. - he put his hand on her shoulder. - I don’t want you to get hurt over something you can’t protect yourself over.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #sebastian stan imagine #marvel au #marvel #lord of the rings #lord of the rings au

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chibistarlyte · 5 years

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this isn't really a headcanon but more of a pure prompt: since i just got home from work a hot minute ago-- bilbo and thorin modern!au see each other almost every single day on public transportation, who works up the courage to talk to the other first?

(i’m using the train as their mode of transport because i definitely prefer that over the bus. also, i mean they technically talk to each other when they say shit like “excuse me” but that doesn’t really count, right? sdhfksdhgfj)

The train was always so damn crowded by the time Thorin got on in the morning.

It was expected, though. His stop wasn’t until about six stops from the beginning of the line, and it was the middle of rush hour when everyone and their mother was commuting to work. So of course the train would be crowded.

Unfortunately for Thorin, he was a bit bulkier than most people and thus it was difficult to sandwich himself between other passengers and not disturb them by constantly bumping into them every time the train moved.

Today was his lucky day, he thought as he spotted a relatively open spot by one of the benches. He’d have to stand, of course, but that was no problem for him. He was used to it. He politely pushed his way through the aisle of people and came to stop right next to a curly-haired man with a book seated on the bench. Thorin held on tightly to the handle above his head as the train started to move once more, keeping his balance with ease.

The train ride itself was uneventful, as per usual. Thorin spent most of it just staring out the window and watching as the scenery slowly morphed from a mix of rural-suburban to a more urban setting the closer they traveled to downtown Erebor. He would have preferred to live in Erebor proper so that he wouldn’t have to commute for over an hour every day, but even for a jewelry designer such as himself, real estate in the city was just too expensive. At least the commute could be worse–had he decided to drive rather than take the train, he would have been stuck in standstill traffic for Mahal knows how long every morning and evening.

The train slowed to a stop at Erebor University, three stops away from his own. Thorin was busy admiring the artwork at the train station when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Pardon me, but this is my stop.”

Thorin looked down to see who had spoken to him and his blue eyes made contact with a pair of vivid green eyes. He was face-to-face with the man who had been seated next to him and wow, he had never seen someone so beautiful in all his life.

Oh. He should probably respond, somehow.

“Sorry,” Thorin said and tried to move out of the way of the curly-haired man. He received a nod in thanks and the man weaved his way through the remaining crowd. Thorin watched as he got off the train, watched as he properly shouldered his worn leather satchel and straightened his burgundy blazer, watched as the man headed out onto the campus and pulled a gold pocket watch–wait, a pocket watch??–out to check the time.

And that was the last glimpse Thorin had of this mysterious man as the train pulled away from the station.

The next day, Thorin saw the curly-haired man on the train again. This time, though, he was standing near one of the doors, one hand holding the handrail and the other hand holding a book that he seemed to be completely engrossed in.

Thorin could have sworn it was a different book from yesterday.

The man was wearing a navy blue blazer today. Thorin had thought the burgundy looked good on him, but the navy blue seemed to make his light brown hair stand out a bit more.

He tried to spend the rest of the train ride looking out the window like he usually did, but he found that his gaze kept shifting towards a certain passenger the entire time. At least, until said passenger once again got off at the university stop. Even then, Thorin watched him until the train went around the bend and the man was completely out of sight.

Day after day, week after week, Thorin saw the mysterious curly-haired man on his morning train commute. And from just observing from afar, Thorin learned these few things about him:

1. He definitely preferred wearing jewel tones. And blazers. Every single blazer Thorin had seen him in had been a deep, rich gemstone color of some kind. Being a jeweler, Thorin could appreciate that.

2. He seemed to be extremely well-read. He had a different book every day, and from the titles that Thorin had happened to catch on a few occasions, they weren’t exactly easy reads. There were even a couple he noticed were written in a different language, though he couldn’t discern what languages from a distance.

3. He was possibly a professor, judging by his attire, general demeanor, and where he got off the train every morning.

4. He was absolutely stunning.

Well, that last point was definitely more subjective than the first three, but. Sometimes Thorin found himself distracted by the way the sunlight would fall on the man’s round face, illuminating his curls to an almost golden blond. Or the way his favored blazers would hug his shoulders just right. Or the way his gorgeous green eyes would squint every now and then on a particularly difficult passage in his book du jour and he would silently mouth the words he was reading.

Thorin had thought about kissing that mouth more often than he’d care to admit.

“Excuse me, please.”

Thorin mentally shook himself out of his daze and looked to the source of the voice. There was a small smile on the man’s face as he looked up at Thorin, green eyes shining with…something Thorin couldn’t discern. It was then that Thorin realized just how short this man was; he barely cleared Thorin’s shoulder.

“Oh, uh, my apologies,” Thorin said, ducking his head as he tried to move out of the way…but there wasn’t much room for him to move. He sucked in a breath and held it as the curly-haired man squeezed past him trying to reach the door. There was a small thump as the man descended the stairs, which drew Thorin’s eye.

A book was lying on the dirty floor of the train, still thankfully closed and bookmarked but the cover looked a little scuffed from its tumble.

Before the train started moving again, Thorin pushed his way towards the door and picked up the book. By the time he stood up again, the train had started moving and he damn near lost his footing before grabbing onto the nearest handrail he could. He held the book in his free hand and dusted the front and back covers off on his brown trousers. Once he felt it was clean enough, Thorin brought the book up to look at the cover.

His eyes widened when he saw the title of the book was in Khuzdul. Now that was a rare sight. There weren’t many books written in his mother tongue anymore, and this one looked like it had been published fairly recently.

Just who was this mysterious curly-haired man? Thorin needed to know.

Climbing the steps onto the train, Thorin immediately began looking around for the curly-haired man. He had to return his book to him, and also attempt to strike up a conversation somehow. He wanted to know why this man had not only been reading a book written in Khuzdul, but a book written in Khuzdul about jewels and metal crafting.

Too bad Thorin wasn’t great with social interactions.

And damn it, where was the man?! Of course it would be today of all days that he wouldn’t be on the train.

Finally, as the train began to move, Thorin spotted a familiar mop of light brown curls.

As politely as he could, Thorin weaved his way down the aisle filled with commuters until he reached the man, who happened to be standing this morning and holding onto the handrail with both hands. No book today.

Probably because he’d accidentally dropped the one he was currently working through, Thorin surmised.

“I think you dropped this yesterday,” Thorin said a little out of breath, his heart hammering in his chest and cutting off his oxygen supply. He held the book out to the man, who regarded it with wide green eyes that a few seconds later locked onto Thorin’s face.

“Oh, heavens, thank goodness you found it! I was searching everywhere for it yesterday…” the man sighed in relief, taking the book with a grateful smile.

Thorin’s heart leapt into his throat. “I-it’s no problem. I was hoping I’d see you today so I could return it to you.”

“Well, I thank you very much, Mister…?” the man trailed off.

“Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield.”

The man’s eyes widened again. “Thorin Oakenshield of Thror and Sons Jewelers?”

It was Thorin’s eyes’ turn to widen. “You know of us?”

The man nodded, his curls bouncing adorably around his cheekbones. “Oh, yes! Incidentally enough, I’ve read a bit about your company in this book…” A bit bashfully, the man held up his book, his eyes darting back and forth between it an Thorin a couple times.

Thorin cleared his throat, nervously averting his gaze to the window. His cheeks colored, though any blush he might have has was mostly covered by his dark facial hair. He tried to think of something, anything to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a socially inept idiot, but nothing came.

“So, uh, you seem to know who I am. But I have no idea who you are,” he said awkwardly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I do believe I’ve forgotten my manners. My name is Bilbo Baggins. I’m a professor of Sindarin at Erebor University.”

Well, that confirmed Thorin’s assumptions that he must be a professor of some sort.

“So you’re a linguist?” Thorin asked. He idly wondered what other languages this man–Bilbo, what a nice name, it suited him somehow–spoke.

Bilbo laughed a little nervously. “Ah, I like to dabble, yes. Sindarin is the only other language I speak fluently, though.”

Well, Thorin could definitely help with that, being a native Khuzdul speaker.

“Oh, this is my stop!” Bilbo announced almost hurriedly, like the university stop had crept up on him without his knowledge. Thorin briefly looked out the window to confirm. Had time really gone that quickly?

“Um, thank you so much again for returning my book, Thorin! I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost it for good!” Bilbo then laughed nervously again. “And it was very nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? What did Bilbo mean by that? Thorin didn’t have much time to wonder about it, though, because Bilbo was already squeezing past him for the door. “Nice to meet you too, Bilbo!” he called out. The professor waved to him as he exited the train.

The doors closed and Thorin looked out the window, blue eyes meeting green for the briefest of moments before the train continued on its way.

Thorin allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. He couldn’t wait to talk to Bilbo more tomorrow.

#this ficlet got away from me ashgfkshgkjg #bagginshield #hobbitunderthemountain #my writing

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hildorien · 5 years

Text

I am in the minority but I’d love to know more about the pre-noldor elvish edain culture, history, and just life.

I wanna know more about men in the context of men, I wanna see history through human eyes without the elvish perspective.

I wanna know the full experiences of all humans in middle earth not the ones the elves interacted with. And if you have to have elves, I wanna hear about what humans thought of elves that isnt ‘oh they are so perfect and amazing and beautiful uwu’, because that’s kind of boring and we can all agree first age elves? on the whole? pretty shitty. (I love em but they have one brain cell to share among them and fuck up on the regular).

I wanna see Humans who were born into a dumpster fire that is the world of arda, these are a people who didn’t get Orome leading them to heaven on earth, they got Morgoth. These are a people who lived in Morgoth’s land for centuries who probably experienced horror and oppression from basically their species infancy. Unlike the elves of valinor, or even the Sindarin protected by Melian, horror and despair would have not been their abnormal, it would be their everyday. But they aren’t broken, they survive. They make families, connections, lives in this wasteland. They adapt and change, because I think in some ways that is the race of men’s true advantage over elves. That we don’t have a gap on our ‘greatness’ persay, humanity’s ambitions get’s mutated into greed a lot (I mean numenor is a dumspter fire for a reason) but I think that human ambition is a strength because it means we don’t accept our circumstances. The Edian sure didn’t.

The edain, the Boerians, the people of haleth, and the hadorians, all marched themselves out of morgoth’s land hoping for something better, with NO GUARANTEE they find anything better. But they still did it. And while we are here, let’s talk about how the race of men has not guarantee of anything, like elves (and dwarves) kind of know where they end up. They go to Mandos and get reborn, they go to aule, respectively. Men...don’t have that. Men really didn’t get anything (but Morgoth and suffering). They leave this world forever, thats what they know. Thats what they are told.

But no one knows what the means. (Personally, I think its like a good place situation kind of. Eru is just michael and turin is janet)

But anyway back to the POINT, (if there ever was one) the edain end up finding beleriand but beleriand isn’t the paradise they wanted. But hey, its not morgoth so let’s celebrate said the beorians before promptly getting found by finrod. And look elves did a lot of good for humans, but I also think there is this really bad dynamic of elves holding all the power and men just being in it for the ride.

Ive made the joke that the elves of the first age are kind of like the edian’s sugar daddies but it’s kind of true. They give them land and like ‘wisdom’ (whatever the fuck that means) and in return men give them their ever increasing numbers. The Silm is a very elven story we don’t really get a lot of human, but when we do I think it’s pretty interesting. Because the relationship between Elves and Men is really uneven in the first age...and all ages even though in later ages forces of men like numenor at their height could I think easily sweep the floor with the elves of the second age combined. I think culturally Elves give a lot more, like men end up picking up their language, though im one hundred percent sure human languages didn’t die out and never do, humans must have shit talked elves a LOT in taliska (oh yes, that is the name of at least the language spoken by the hadorians and beorians, the people of haleth spoke a different dialect) and I think a lot of humans give more in resources (aka men, power, infantry). I mean personally if I was having at a guess I don’t think (as the latecomers) men got very many places to actually farm and have good land and relied on elvish goods to survive. I think this unevenness kind of spurred this idea that ‘elvishness = superior’, so to make this full circle I think a lot of pre edain culture was lost to make place for diet pepsi version of elf culture that we see human cultures like numenor and gondor have, because that’s better than their orn because elves are SPECIal BETTER AND DON’T DIE LIKE US BROKEN AND FALLEN PEOPLE. ((screams))

Okay let’s talk about the death thing. Human and Mortal and Men all mean the same thing, humans die is not a statement that should be up for debate. But the humans of edain, at least from what we see of Andreth is that this was not how it always was. Humans were once immortal like the elves until they were bad and listened to morgoth and then they became mortal and all sick and ew.

yeahhhh, I don’t think thats true. I think in-universe its a great myth. I love finrod ah andreth for this reason (also andreth is tolkien’s best female character he ever created and the fact that she’s not in the published silm is why we are in the bad timeline) , but I think humans...always were mortal.

And thats okay.

We talked about human ambition above, I think that is fueled by the fact that we all die. We have a timer, so we have to do things now, and that’s not a bad mindset to have. I think it gets humjans into trouble but also, imagine your a human in beleriand, you have children, a family, they might have children someday you want to do what you need to do to make sure THEY have a chance.

(also lets talk about the fucked up fact that humans are punished for lsitening to morgoth in the first place like im sorry that humans didnt have any other valar looking for them, there was no orome, no fucking chance that they could have met anyone else because no valar came for them only morgoth with his lies so yes humans are bad for listening to the only god like entity that seemed like he wanted to help them, the elves did that too but they had nice gods so they are wise while humans who have illness and sickness and death over their heads listen to a guy with power okay jirt i see your double fuckig stnarad and its STUPID)

And you can’t wait for that chance, so you leap. I think this is best illustrated by Turin of all people. Turin gets called elvish a lot in looks but in actions, he, like most of his family, are allllllllll human. The bridge in nargothrand even though it’s stupid and ends up horribly kind of reminds me of this. Turin doesn’t have time to wait like Gwindor, and Orodreth, etc do. his people have already been fucking disomated, he’s lost his father, his mother is trapped in enemy territory. He wants to help.

Sure it blows up in his face, but yknow...the want to do good is there.

I think on the whole humans get a bad rep...like they’re called stupid and dumb and ugly by both fandom and in universe elves alike. But I don’t think that’s the case. Humans have a lot more balls and have collectively been through more trauma as a species than I think all of the elves (especially valinorian) elves combined. I think when humans fuck up, whether it be turin or numenor, it’s proof of their incompetence, that their inante (eru-given ability) to have ambition to seek beyond the world they live in for something better for something more is evil and they should be more like the elves, stagnant, already at the height of ‘perfection’, never changing....instead of being humans. Like look at these fools trying to act like than can be GOOD at something, sit down and let these elves be best at everything obviously. How many of you would look at me funny if I said, maybe the race of men was BETTER THAN THE ELVES AT SOMETHING? A lot of you im sure, and someone would have a rebuttle for how I was wrong and how this elf was considered the best.

(like that post going around how could turin actually be #that pretty to thot his way through all of beleriand? Maybe he just Was like that, sure he may have a little elvish ness but honestly I think that be a funny thing elves say to cover up the fact some elves found a icky human was actually just that fucking hot, because obviously humans could never be that actually hot ever, not to intangle a sindarin mast of a guard, a NOLDORIAN VANYAR-DESSCENT PRINCESS, ect)

Also just to go back to numenor, ever want an example of why it doesnt work for men to act like elves...look at numenor, early numenor was as elvish as humans could produce....but then they got bored. And then numneor became an empire and everyone eventually had so much of a bad time, eru reshaped the fucking world just to wipe the valar’s ‘humans but better’ ocs off the face of the planet. Like just to stray off topic I personally think men can’t go to valinor 1) because the two trees are actually nuclear, and the whole damn island is chernobyl instant death right there and thats why the valinor elves are like #that (they GLOW for gods shake) 2) the monotonous never changing perfection of valinor while amazing in the short term for humans would eventually drive them crazy. Not to say that the race of men doesn’t like some peace and quite or even humans (like myself) can be obverse to change, even I can admit doing the same thing ever day would drive me crazy.

This got super rambly, but its been a lot of thoughts Ive been having for a long ass time. Basically, I just want people to talk to me about the atani, edian, race of men, whatever you want to call them. They deserve a lot better and a lot more respect than just playing a supporting role to the elves.

They didn’t kill all those dragons to be ignored like this.

#silmarillion #race of men #what ye do in the dark #tea with milk #not undercut because I want you people to READ this #please validate meeee #silm #edain #atani #i have a lot of feeling about humans in an elf world....

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daywillcomeagain · 5 years

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@lesbiansforboromir this is YOUR FAULT for ENABLING MY NUMENOR OBSESSION. i constantly want an excuse to talk about numenorean politics and you have given me one.

however this post will probably be shorter and way simpler/less fact-checked than i would like it to be, on account of it’s 1am and i really should probably be sleeping. …….admittedly it will still probably going to be longer and more complicated than most of my dash would prefer. sorry.

so like–at first i see the two political/cultural groups as being “interventionist” and “isolationist”, without much real nuance as to what those things mean, and so you get a lot of good and bad policies within both groups. this comes about because (a) the people who live in the forest would like you to stop cutting down all their trees to make ships tyvm (b) the people who live on the coast or in towers in the cities and stare at the sea quite literally nonstop would like to actually go on the sea tyvm (sea-longing!). the interventionist policies are “we should defeat sauron and also do some colonialism”; the isolationist policies are “take care of our people first and stay in our lane (who cares about sauron as long as he’s not hurting /us/).” because these are also geographical differences, you get the beginnings of cultural distinctions start to develop: the main isolationist issue is preserving nature, so it’s pretty natural that they’re the ones who like hanging out with Elves and speaking Sindarin and worshipping the Valar; meanwhile, the expansionists are, well, expanding, into Middle-Earth, and so they speak Taliska or Adûnaic (which is what Taliska–itself a Khudzul/Avarin creole–ends up becoming on Numenor, before it eventually develops into Westron, the common-tongue of the Third Age) for trade purposes, though they almost certainly spoke Sindarin as well; which was their first/primary language is deeply unclear and probably varied from region to region. Of course, at this point the cultural groups are loose correlations at best; I’m willing to defend the isolationist/expansionist political divide, but my opinion on the cultural groups is entirely speculation, based on Aldarion and Erendis (and how it fits neatly into what happens after).

then, in year 1500 S.A. or so, we get Tar-Minastir (expansionist) who is followed by three more expansionists; in fact, at this point, expansionism has pretty solidly ‘won’ over isolationism. (there’s probably some population pressure on numenor at this point as well, and expansionism allows for more resources, both through legitimate means such as trade and less legitimate means such as enslaving the natives.) however, the two cultural groups still exist, and also humans are incapable of living together for extended periods of time without political debate. so it becomes about something else, something that is more controversial and which can be decided by public opinion as much as it is by the desires of the King to set sail: opinion towards the elves.

See, Tar-Minastir’s expansionism was based on sea-longing, but in truth he longed for the West, not for the East: he would “spend great part of his days gazing westward” (longing to go to Valinor); he “loved the Eldar but envied them”. Tar-Atanamir “spoke openly against the ban of the Valar, and their hearts were turned against the Valar and the Eldar”. It makes sense, then, that under Tar-Ancalimon (2000-ish), the cultural groups split more fully, between the Faithful (who approve of the Valar and Eldar, think that death is a gift to be chosen, speak Sindarin, etc.) and the King’s Men (who speak Adûnaic, choose to live out their lives until death instead of laying down their lives, and disapprove or are neutral towards the Valar and Eldar). Generally, the King’s Men are jealous of the Elves, who are immortal and able to go to Valinor, whereas the Faithful accept the teachings that death is a gift and that Valinor is bad for mortals.

From here, some facts get murky; there are a couple ways to resolve them but honestly they’re not super important. The important thing is that there is a long stretch of royalty supporting the King’s Men, to the point of banning the speaking of Sindarin and enforcing Adûnaic, forced relocation of the Faithful, destruction of temples to the Valar, and other standard religious persecution things. (Also, colonialism is still happening! But, in Middle-Earth as on regular Earth, it was sometimes used by religious minorities to escape that kind of persecution in their homelands–c.f. the founding of America. This is why Pelargir was so major even prior to the fall of Numenor.)

Then Ar-Adûnakhor happens, Sauron arrives and manipulates the fuck out of him, and the King’s Men generally jump off the slippery slope and start sacrificing people to Morgoth. And killing the White Tree (but it’s okay because Isildur stole some seeds to become the White Tree of Gondor!). And finally, 3000ish years after the founding of Numenor, a King goes “you know what, fuck it, fuck all of you, fuck the Valar, I’m going to Valinor and you can’t stop me”. The Faithful respond to this by getting the fuck out to Middle-Earth, which is where you get the massive influx of refugees to Pelargir that eventually becomes Gondor! The King’s Men respond to this by being drowned under a bunch of water, because Tolkien loved his Atlantis mythos.

anyway, like. numenor having radically different opinions is–it’s true but it’s an understatement to me. by the end of the second age, numenor had two entirely different groups of people speaking different and mutually unintelligible languages and living in different places and believing in different religions and sometimes oppressing each other: anywhere else in the world, we’d call that two different ethnic groups! but of course, since they’re all descendants of the men chosen to live on this island as reward for fighting with the good guys in the war of wrath, they don’t really have the option of… having any space, whatsoever, especially given population growth from 3,000 years. and, given that the King’s Men were (a) likely more numerous, at least among royalty (b) led to the Fall in the first place, it’s really fascinating to me that they don’t appear to take up ~any space in the minds of Men in the Third Age.

#but for all this Death did not depart #is my numenor tag #shut up þornwë

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clouds-of-wings · 6 years

Photo

This picture, originally posted by azoth-vitae, spontaneously made me imagine Finrod giving Beren the finger when the latter asked him to accompany him to Mordor. I then actually wrote that AU and it’s truly very stupid and Finrod and Beren are both rude assholes, but crack is all I do for this fandom, so here goes -

"...and then the king said to me, you can marry my daughter, but only if you bring me – get this – a Silmaril from Morgoth‘s crown!“ Beren inserted a dramatic pause and looked at Finrod expectantly. Finrod nodded thoughtfully, then slowly shook his head and frowned.

"Anyway.“ Beren continued when Finrod didn‘t immediately answer. "I‘m in some deep shit now! How am I possibly supposed to get a Silmaril from Morgoth‘s crown? I mean it‘s on Morgoth‘s head! I hear he guards that head himself!“

"That sounds tough,“ said Finrod sympathetically.

"Kind of an understatement but I‘ll take it.“ said Beren grumpily. "There‘s no way I can do this on my own, but I guess… since no one will help me… I will have to try anyway.“ He gave Finrod a pointed look.

"Mh.“ said Finrod. "Well, if that‘s what you feel you have to do...“

"Yes,“ said Beren. "Very tough, as you said. Without anyone to accompany me, I‘m practically guaranteed to meet a gruesome, violent death.“ He started playing with the Ring of Barahir which he wore prominently on his right index finger. "If only I had help.“

"Maybe you can come up with a cunning plan?“ offered Finrod without real conviction.

"A cunning plan that all the sons of Fëanor taken together haven‘t come up with even though they‘ve had centuries? I am but a single-classed human fighter with one (1) nice piece of jewelry.“ He held up his Ring of Barahir and stared at Finrod. Finrod nodded.

"Maybe you should find a different lover?“ he asked hesitantly. Beren unexpected started sobbing.

"But I love her soooo much!“ he cried. "How can I marry some random uggo after taking multiple walks in the forest with a quartergoddess? Plus I don‘t know that many Sindarin bird names and I‘ve already used up my best for her. Can‘t very well call the woman I‘m wooing "grey-chested tit“, now can I?“

"You could try "dove“ or "sparrow“ or...“

"THAT‘S NOT THE POINT!“ said Beren loudly. "I HAVE to marry her but WITHOUT HELP, without FRIENDS who maybe feel OBLIGATED to help me, maybe because of an OATH or something...“

"Maybe you could just hire some mercenaries?“ suggested Finrod and Beren finally lost it and, in a fit of rage, threw his ring at the king‘s face. It hit his nose.

"Kindly refrain from throwing your jewelry at me,“ said Finrod.

"So will you fulfill your oath and help me get the damn Silmaril or not!“ asked Beren angrily.

"Uh, what?“ said Finrod in disbelief.

"You swore to help Barahir‘s family in a time of need. I invoke the debt you owe my kin. Come accompany me to Mordor and get the Silmaril with me!“

"How about no.” said Finrod.

"But you swore you‘d help!“

Finrod, with a deadpan expression, extended his right middle finger.

"I swore to help Barahir‘s family in a time of need and danger! And I didn‘t mean “danger of not being able to marry a princess“. I was thinking more of mortal danger and that stuff. Plus, what kind of ring is that? Is that the version from the LotR films? Wait, actually it looks more like a cheap unlicensed knock-off. Where‘s the original?“

"I, well...“ Beren shifted uncomfortably. "I kinda gave it to Luthien to impress her. And...“

"And?“

"Well, she ate it. She‘s weird sometimes. Must be her divine heritage.“

"So to sum it up, your girlfriend ate the priceless heirloom I carried through an ice desert for thirty years, but you want me to risk my life to slightly increase your non-existent chance of marrying her anyway?“

"Well if you put it like THAT it just sounds dumb.“

"It sounds dumb any way you put it. "Hey Finrod, help me steal something from Morgoth‘s forehead“ sounds just as bad. Even Uncle Fingolfin only got as far as his foot. Or "Hey Finrod, my personal happiness is more important than the entire kingdom of Nargothrond“. Or "Hey Finrod, I‘m gonna die, wanna come?“ Actually, I think I could make a song out of these lyrics.“ He took a mandolin that stood in the corner and thoughtfully began to strum it.

“Please, Finrod.” began Beren again, singing, without meaning or wanting to, a harmony to the melody Finrod was now improvising. “I really need your help. And with your wisdom and magic power, we might actually have a chance. Haven’t you ever been in love? Wouldn’t you have done anything for her too? This is more important to me than my own life. This is the greatest calamity that will ever befall me. Without her, nothing means anything. Even if I lived for 563,675,133,567 years it would mean less than a day with her!”

“Huh?” asked Finrod. “Sorry, I was distracted. I think I know how the song should go now. Here listen, I call it “The impossible quest.”” He started playing some chords rather more energetically than before and started to sing -

Hey Finrooood… let’s both die in vain. Hey Finrooood… in excruciating pain. Hey Finrooood…

I don’t realize I have a snowball’s chance in hell Of marrying the girl I love, as if I couldn’t tell That Thingol sent me on a quest impossible to solve And that right now he’s laughing at me while he’s playing golf, hey Finroood...”

“You don’t have to sing a song about how you think my plan sucks!” chanted Beren angrily, still harmonizing very much against his will, but Finrod merely kept singing:

“And yes I know you have a king’s respónsibilities And are quite well-known for your diplomat abilities Important for the wars to come, belovèd by your folk Please die for me, I’m on a quest impossible to solve, hey Finrooood…

I think the Silmarils are just some pretty little gems I witnessed not your asshole kin do genocide for them I don’t think they’ll come after me, hah no! That cannot be! Hey if it works in Disney films then it must work for me, yeah hey Finrooood...”

“Alright, I get it, you don’t like my plan!” sang Beren loudly and with some vibrato when Finrod started repeating the chorus. “And what the Mandos is a Disney film.”

“Ooh wait, here comes the bridge! I sampled something here!” said Finrod and recited loudly in his musical voice:

“Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might have found more suitable mates. But the ‘real soul-mate’ is the one you are actually married to.”

"Uh, what?“ said Beren, confused.

"That‘s by your modern!AU version.“ said Finrod. "You fight in a war, marry Luthien and become a writer in that version. And you said THIS. So much for ‘ohh no I have to marry her or I‘ll die.‘“

"What, I‘d never say that!“ said Beren, now angry again. "And please don‘t loop the chorus for two minutes now and then slowly fade out.“

"Don‘t worry,“ said Finrod, now distractedly playing random rapid notes on his mandolin. "I‘m not some wannabe artist who stretches one minute‘s worth of ideas into a four minute song, only the lowest of the low do that. Also, did you notice the cool chord progression I did while mocking you? I totally substituted a major chord for the Eb minor! I think it adds some spice to the whole thing!“

"Yeah and it‘s easier to play!“

"No it isn‘t!“ replied Finrod heatedly. "Not on a mandolin!“

"Alright, alright!“ said Beren. "You play awesome chord progressions and you don‘t want to help me get a Silmaril. I get it. Your song structure is still ordinary as Mandos though, and since my plan will put me in mortal danger you are honour-bound to help me whether you like it or not.“

"FINE!“ said Finrod, "I guess I have to follow my STUPID oath into darkness. I‘ll accompany you, but I do NOT like it, and if we meet anyone else I don‘t like I will drop such a devastating diss track against them that they will fall before my throne!“

"Duly noted,“ said Beren. “Hooray for the bard.”

#silmarillion #tolkien crack #finrod #beren #DUMB SHIT #tolkien #crowingses

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mimikoflamemaker · 5 years

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OC ask: 1, 15, 16, 26, 27, & 76 For Lithien!

1.What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did itcome about?

Middle-earthhas rich and complicated naming traditions, especially as far as elves areconcerned, so “nicknames” (epesse) are rather popular and something to be proudoff (though I am greatly oversimplifying things here). Lithien does have one,given to her by her fellow wardens (I am squinting at Maethion here and ellonwho is a very close friends of her) and then it moved with her over toRivendell and stuck over there as well. The nickname is Cannith and in sindarinit means (bold sister) which is a very obvious and direct reference to heroverall personality. I would say that Lithien herself likes it more than heractual given name.

I’vealso been playing with an idea for a quenya eppsse for Lithien in light of thatone persistent fanfic idea (a fix it scenario in which Lithien meets… a veryancient elf). That nickname would be given mostly because said person would bea little horrified by the implication of Lithien’s own name (who in their rightmind names their child “daughter of the ashes”) and partly because “your actualname doesn’t fit you. Trust me I am old enough to know” So far the options Iconsidered would be Canye (bold one) or Ranyanis (free woman). But I am stillpondering.

15.What was your OC’s childhood like?

ShouldI plant an ‘Entering Spoilers Territory’ sign up here yet or no? :) Now thismight not be much of a spoiler to some, but Lithien grew up without a mother,who died because of the strain from childbirth (or rather three childbirthswhich was too much for her). Daugion, Lithien’s father didn’t handle thesituation well and in his own grief put most of the blame for it on his newborndaughter. Hence her lovely name. So Lithien grew up mostly in the care ofnannies and teachers. Galaren, who is a lot older than Lithien tried his bestto pick up the father mantle when his duties in the army weren’t keeping himaway. I think Lithien only understood what a true father should be after shecame to live in Rivendell for a time. So her childhood was mostly a lonely one,filled with deep desire to prove herself worthy of her father’s time and attention.That deeply rooted desire to prove herself traps Lithien way into her adultlife and lies as the baseline to many of her decisions, both good and bad.

16. What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Whyand how as that impacted him/her?

Lithienlearned at an early age, that good things are hard to find and once you getthem you need to do everything in your power to protect those things and people.Galaren was a first target to this protectiveness. And it all happened because ofthe braids. Galaren was staying home for a bit at the time and one morning shehas asked him to braid her hair before she went out to play with other children.Galaren hardly knew a thing about braiding hair for little girls, but he didn’twant to let her down. So Lithien left the house with a perfect warrior braid.Which for some reason other children found rather funny. And since she wasn’tgoing to allow anyone to laugh at her brother, she threw herself at the boy twoheads taller than herself and quite literally rolled him through the mud. She gotinto a lot of trouble because of that. To this day she is proud of that one.

26. Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so welltogether?

Firstof all. I am not sure how to apply a soulmate concept to Tolkien elves and tothe complicated thing that is an elven fea. Or maybe this makes a soulmate thingeven easier to pull off, I have no idea. Either way, Lithien’s ‘radar’ iseither skewered or completely, voluntary shut off. She went down that road onetime. It was the most beautiful experience of her life. And when it was torn awayfrom her, it took a piece of herself with it. Lithien doesn’t want anothersoulmate. Or a lover. She doesn’t know if she even can have one and doesn’tseek one too. But sometimes she craves company and someone who would listen toher without judgment. And she found herself a person willing to do that and notgiving shit about people frowning upon what the two of them are doing. Lithiendoesn’t give a fuck either, at least as long as the rumors don’t startbadmouthing Galaren. (Also sorry if this is not very specific, but this is allI can give you if you don’t want spoilers to the story)

27. What are some things your OC admires about his/hersoulmate?

Aboutthe old one? The fact that he accepted her exactly as she was with all hermoods, vices and… defects. And he did so at the moment when she thought herselfunworthy of anybody’s love and attention. And the new one? I think that she isstill waiting to find out (rolling the curtain here too because *spoilers*)

76. What is your OC’s favorite animal?

Wolf.Steadfast loyalty to the pack and the willingness to die in order to protectit? This speaks to her on personal level. They also never back down from thefight even in the face of overwhelming adversity. And they are, quite frankly,a beautiful creatures.

(Yes,I have no idea what was Tolkien aiming at, but to me there are two distinct typesof wolves in Middle-earth. “Wolf” wolves and wargs – the dark skewered beingsbrought to existence by Melkor, though I remember those words being used interchangeablyto describe the latter. You can see in JoO that I am not doing that)

Thank you so much for the ask! *hug* I’m sorry if it gotten a little long ^^’

If anyone wants to, I am still accepting asks

#darkwolf75 #journey of oaths #ask meme #answers answers #thank you!#darkwolf76

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thranduil-is-my-king · 6 years

Text

Happier Here Than There (Part 4)

Ship: Eventual Thranduil/Reader Rating: General Warnings: None Tags: Middle Earth, Reader-Insert

Summary: Imagine ending up in Middle Earth at the edge of Mirkwood Forest. When you venture into the forest, you are attacked by spiders before being saved by guards and taken before the king.

Word Count: 1856

Written for: @welcome-to-fangirl-hell

A/N: This fic, and basically this series since it might not have started without her request, is dedicated to Ammy because I said on one of her posts that I was thinking of doing a Thranduil/Reader fic and I asked if she would tag me in hers when she made one and that I would do the same so, here it is! I hope all of you enjoy this series and please let me know what you think of it!

AO3 Link

~*~* THIS STORY TAKES PLACE A FEW DECADES BEFORE SMAUG ATTACKS EREBOR *~*~

~~ For Ones • All Elves have a One • There is only one One a lifetime • If the elf’s one is mortal, when the two mate, the mortal becomes immortal and tied to the elf (Yes, I know that it doesn’t go like that canonically but in my ‘verse, it does. Don’t like, don’t read.)

Translations:

Ellon- Male elf

^^ Translations will be at the bottom as well

This place sucks, you think as an elf knocks on your door at what seems like too early in the morning, especially after the night you had. You stand up and walk over to your door and open it, not caring about how your hair stood up in different directions in several places. At your door stood the elf that brought you to your room yesterday. His name is Galion, right? “King Thranduil requests your presence in the library, my lady.” “Oh, uh, okay. Your name is Galion, right?” “Yes.” “Okay, Galion. Considering I have absolutely no clue as to where the library is and I most likely look horrendous right now, do you mind waiting out here while I get ready so that you can show me to the library?” You say, anxiously brushing your hair down with your hand. “I was planning to do that anyway, my lady. I shall wait out here while you get ready.” “Thank you so much. I’ll be ready in a jiffy.” You say before closing the door. Going over to the wardrobe that you were given, you wonder why Thranduil would want to see you. As far as you knew, you had done nothing wrong. Maybe another conversation about your world? Or one about his? Looking through your wardrobe, you find a simple but beautiful red gown with orange outlining the shapes of leaves. Taking it out, you lay it on your bed as you go to the bathroom to do your morning duties which are a lot faster since you don’t have makeup. You take your sleeping gown off walking to the bed before slipping on the gown onto your body. Now, what shoes? you think as you walk back over to the wardrobe. Looking at the shoes, you find an equally simple but beautiful pair of boots that are red on the top but gradually fade into orange going down. Perfect. After slipping the boots on, you walk over to the bed and sit down as you unbraid your hair, letting the loose curls fall. Grabbing a brush, you run it through your hair and looking in the mirror to look at yourself, you deem it well enough to walk in public. You open the door to see Galion standing on the other side of the hallway, waiting. You walk over to him and ask, “So, how do I look? Not too other-world-ish?” Galion stares at you for a moment before speaking, “Not at all except for the curly hair.” “What? Are you saying that no one in this entire kingdom has curly hair?” You ask shocked. “Elves do not have curly hair. We keep our hair long and straight.” Galion answers. “Shall we go?” “Yes.” “Alright then, follow me.” And with that, you’re off following Galion through the halls of Mirkwood.

“So, is there anything really important that I should know since I’m living here for the time being?” You ask, wanting to break the somewhat awkward silence. “You should know that elves in general are not welcome of outsiders. There aren’t a lot of us that are welcome of outsiders so until you figure out who those people are, try not to do anything extravagant or odd.” “So, basically as if I’m at a formal event except it goes on for a really long time?” “Yes, exactly.” “Are you one of those welcoming elves, Galion?” “If you knew how old I was I’m sure that you would be surprised to hear that, yes, I am.” “Why would I be surprised?” “Usually when someone meets someone old, they think that they are completely disapproving of everything that isn’t the old ways.” “Come on, you can’t be that old. What are you, 32? 35?” “Older.” Galion says, the corners of his mouth turning up a little. “What? No way. 38? You can’t be more than 40. How old are you?” “7363.” You stop walking, shocked by his answer. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Did you say that you were 7363?!” Galion turns towards you, smiling a bit, “Yes.” “H- How?! No one lives that long!” “Elves do. Elves are immortal.” “Oh. I had no idea. That makes some sense actually.” You say, making Galion chuckle a bit. You walk to the side of him and start walking again. “So, is Thranduil a welcoming elf?” “Well, Thranduil is complicated and he has every right to be. He’s had a hard life which you can ask him about, it is not my place to tell his life story to you. There are times he can be welcoming and nice but then there are times when he can be cold and unforgiving. If you weren’t as tall as you are, he probably would’ve thought you were the offspring of a man and dwarf and thrown you in the dungeons. But he se-“ “Wait, dwarves? There are dwarves?” “Yes, they are quite short, stubborn, little things with the worst manners you’ve ever seen.” “Oh, okay. Sorry, go on.” “Thranduil seems to have taken to you. I haven’t seen him do that for a few thousand years.” “How old is Thranduil?” “7353. I am 10 years older than him.” “Wow. Oh, I have a question and you seem like the person to ask.” “What is it?” “That blonde elf that looks like Thranduil. He was like the leader of the elves that brought me in. Who is he?” “That would be Prince Legolas. Legolas is Thranduil’s son.” “So I was right! I figured they were related somehow. The silver hair and the blue eyes gave it away.” “They do look a lot alike, don’t they?” “Yes, they do. I’m guessing that Legolas is like 6000 years old?” “Oh no, not at all. He hasn’t even hit his third millennia yet. He’s still a young ellon.” “Ellon?” “It means ‘male elf’ in Sindarin. Sindarin is the language that you’ve been hearing, by the way.” “So that’s what it is! Okay, I’ve been trying to figure out what it was. Do all the elves here know English?” “English? What’s English?” “Uh, the language that we’re speaking right now.” “Oh, okay. We call it the ‘Common Tongue’ in Middle Earth.’” “Okay, got it. Do all the elves speak Common Tongue?” “Yes, all of us speak it. So, you shouldn’t have a problem with not understanding anyone. Just start speaking how we are and they should repeat what they said in the Common Tongue.” “Will they talk about me behind my back in Sindarin?” “Some of them might. But any that I or the king hears, will be shut down immediately.” “Okay, good to know.” “What will Galion and I be shutting down?” You whip your head forward, seeing that you were about to walk into King Thranduil. “Oh, um, Galion was just assuring me that the two of you will stop anyone who talks bad about me in Sindarin when I cannot even understand them.” You explain, not knowing why but feeling intimidated by the elven king. “To speak for myself, I promise you that I will not let anyone do that. It will not be tolerated in my kingdom.” Thranduil says, looking into your eyes. You stare into his beautifully blue eyes that you could get lost in just glancing at them. “I was wondering if somehow the two of you got lost and came looking for you myself.” “Y/N had just woken up and she had to get ready before I brought her to the library, my lord.” Galion answers. “Galion, how many times do I have to tell you not to be so formal when we are not around other elves?” Thranduil asks, giving one of the best eye rolls you’ve ever seen. “How many more times is it going to happen for you to realize that I’m teasing you?” Galion snarks back, smirking a little. Thranduil sighs, “I’m adding this moment to the mile long list of moments that I don’t kick you out of the kingdom when I really should.” You smile as Galion turns around and walks away while saying, “You would be lost without me, Thranduil!” “I believe it would be you that would be the lost one.” “No, I’m pretty sure it would be you considering I taught you everything you know.” Galion answers, turning a corner and going out of sight, making you laugh. “One day I’m going to kick him out of the kingdom.” “Uh huh, I’m sure you are.” You say, chuckling. “Shall we go to the library?” Thranduil asks. “Yes, we shall.” You say, starting to walk beside Thranduil. “So, why exactly am I being summoned by the king to the library?” “I was going to write the letter to the White Council asking for help to get you home but I thought that you should be there for it since you might be able to give me more information.” “Oh, well I pretty much gave you all of the information I had. I dozed off in my world before waking up at the edge of your forest.” “There was nothing else? No one else wherever you were when you dozed off?” “No, I locked all of the doors and windows of my apartment and I checked all the rooms before I went to bed.” “Well, you should still be there when I write the letter.” Thranduil says, nodding at two guards outside of two extremely large, detailed doors. The guards start opening the doors as you get closer to them. “Yeah, that’s true. It would make sense for... Wow.” You agree before trailing off as you walk into the library.

The room opened up with the tallest shelves you’ve ever seen and on either side of them are winding staircases that take you to different levels of the shelves that were full of books. It was one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. “Y/N? Are you coming?” Thranduil asks, snapping you out of your reverie. You look at him, noticing that he was a few feet in front of you as you had stopped walking to take in the view. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’m just a big nerd and was admiring all the books.” You say, walking up to him. Thranduil just smiles and leads you farther into the library to an area with tables and chairs. “After we finish this letter, I will show you the section of books that are written in the common tongue.” You turn towards him with a look of awe on your face, “Really?” Thranduil looks back at you, amused at your love of books and nods, “I’m not sure I have much of a choice now.” You chuckle, “You don’t.” Thranduil chuckles, leading the two of you to a table that already has paper, a quill with ink, and a couple candles lit for light. You sit down on one side of the table as Thranduil sits on the other side. “Let’s get started, shall we?” Thranduil says, picking up the quill. “So, tell me again what exactly happened. Include as many details as you can.”

Translations:

Ellon- Male elf

^^ Translations will be at the top as well

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