#“summary” summary: Silver is the tallest dwarf

[only-lonely-stars]

A Bride for the Prince (Chapter 2 - Festival)

[Prologue] // [Chapter 1 of 9] // [Chapter 2 of 9 - you are here!] // [Chapter 3 of 9] – (FFN) (AO3)

Part of the @ninjago-fairy-tale-au!

Summary:

Once upon a time, there lived a faithful and hardworking girl named Pixal Borg, who worked every day to satisfy her demanding stepmother. For years, she cleaned and cooked, giving no argument, until the day came when she met the prince. A Pixane Cinderella retelling.

Chapter summary:

Prince Zane appears, and the King suggests a celebration to help him choose a bride.

The castle of the Central Commonwealth stood tall above the surrounding towns, the colorful capital city likewise dwarfed by its majesty. Tall towers flanked enormous walls of white stone, silvery in the morning light and dew. Great shadows fell on the far side, and in the shade herds of cattle grazed upon expansive fields. Parapets extended from every tallest point. Many shuttered windows were present on every side, looking at the countryside. The only window without such decoration was a great stained glass expanse, which depicted a falcon flying through snowfall, visible best from the throne room.

Inside the throne room, two men stood, talking intently, one older and one younger. The older had silvery white hair, swept back and pinned down with a simple yet kingly platinum crown. He stood tall, with a presence of intelligence and wisdom and strength. However, his face was lined as a consequence of laughter, belying his wisdom. No matter where he looked, his intelligent gray eyes were intent on anything he saw. The younger man looked just like the older in nearly every aspect, even to his platinum blond hair, likewise swept back and crowned with a simpler silver circlet. His blue eyes were alike to shattered ice, calm and intelligent, and his back was straight as a ramrod. Both men carried themselves with dignity, as befit their royalty, and spoke with fondness to one another.

"How was your journey, my son?" the king asked.

"It was most productive. Our eastern towns shall not go hungry under our care," the prince replied.

"Very good. I am proud of you, Zane. You have grown to be a fine leader for our people." The king put his hand on his son's shoulder. "You bring honor to the Julien name."

Zane bowed his head in thanks. "It is the least I can do for our people. Without them, our rule means nothing."

"You are right; it is by their desire that we govern. I only wish that your brother Echo could have seen the man you have become." The king smiled, a tinge of sadness to his face.

The prince's face fell. The sound of his brother's name was a bittersweet one. After a few moments, he schooled his features back to calm. "What would you have me do next, Father? Shall I go with the diplomatic mission to the southern kingdom?"

"No, they have already departed. I would like to speak to you about a different matter." The king folded his hands pensively. "My son, I am growing older with every passing year. Time has served me well, but I cannot live forever."

Zane nodded. "Has your health suffered while I was gone?" he asked, concern flooding his voice.

"No, thank the First Master. However, I have had time to consider the future." The king met Zane's eyes, every aspect of his countenance sincere. "My son, you are by no means a child any longer. We have reached a point where you should begin considering whom you will marry."

At this, Zane shook his head. "I do not know any noblewomen who would be fit for the task. I cannot take a wife from among them." His eyebrows creased in distaste. "I will not marry a foreigner, either, or any woman who is not of our people. They must be ruled by one of our number."

"Your wisdom is beyond your years, my son. However, you must choose someone eventually, despite your misgivings." The king began to pace. "Perhaps some sort of event might be arranged, that you might meet a fitting woman from among the people. Perhaps a contest, or a ball, where you might meet candidates for the role."

"An event, Father? What sort do you suggest?" Zane's mind whirred. "Perhaps a festival would befit the need better than a ball."

The king smiled. "That is an excellent proposal. We shall host a long festival; three days in which you might meet the women of the kingdom and find someone fitting." The king's eyes twinkled. "I will put you in charge of it, so all the events might fit the qualities you seek in your wife-to-be."

Zane bowed his head in agreement, pushing down his warring feelings of trepidation, dread, and excitement. "I will do my best. When shall it be?"

"The week after next, if you are able to organize it so quickly. Will that suffice for you?"

"It is more than enough time." The prince paused, but came to stand before his father once again. "Thank you, Father, for allowing me to be so particular. I know it has been difficult for you. I will find someone who will rule well, like Mother did."

The king smiled, a slight bit melancholy. "I have no doubt you will search far and wide until you find her, my son, no matter how long it takes. Trust yourself, and it will be easier."

"I will do my best."

-----

In the intervening time before the festival, Prince Zane rarely rested, overseeing every part of the festival planning. During the three days, the population of the capital city and the surrounding towns would be welcome throughout the fields around the castle, where there would be games and spectacles. There would be many things to indulge in, such as delectable foods from all over the Commonwealth, and the finest or artisan craftsmanship where any merchant could sell his wares.

In the center of the field, an arena was set up. It hosted many seats, and a tawny soil floor, such that all the kingdom's knights and squires could do their best to prove their worth. Zane would also compete each day, jousting with the winners of the earlier matches. As per an agreement with his father, he was to take the favor of a woman he saw fit to consider, but no other. Throughout the rest of the tournament, he would also be present, whether as a competitor in the games or an attendee, meeting as many ladies as he could without the fear of appearing as a womanizer.

As the days of the festival approached and the announcements were sent out, Zane's trepidation grew. For years, he had felt free, as the need to find a bride had been a faraway concern. He had been able to travel, to study, to learn, and to begin to rule without concern of a woman who would monopolize his attention. Any knowledge in the world was at his disposal, and even the farthest corners of the world were within his grasp. Now that he had to find a fitting bride, were his days of freedom over? How could he live his life as he had before?

He tried to shake his worries, but they were unceasing. As a husband, he would be required to set aside the time to tend to his wife, and everything that she entailed to him. She would take up his time, energy, attention, and more personal things than those, some of which he feared to even think about. How could he please a woman while also pleasing himself, whether in mind or body? No matter how he considered the problem, it seemed impossible.

In any time he could take to himself, Zane delved into prayer and meditations, but they rarely helped. Instead, his mind was filled with images of his future. Of course, once a courtship began, he was to spend time with his wife-to-be. Then his wedding day would come, with all its trappings and traditions. As of that day, he would be tied to that woman, and there would be no leaving her. The visions he imagined turned toward the further future as he realized that any travels he would take would be with his wife, unless toward war– First Master forbid. His children would be raised to ascend the throne, and would be his pride and joy. When he was aged, one would be crowned…

Slowly, his fears began to slip away. The prince thought about his future, and suddenly felt as if his concerns were small. If his life was to be spent with anyone, a woman with whom he could speak and learn would certainly not be poor. His kingdom would live well under the rule of a learned and graceful woman, if only he could find one.

Despite the prince's warring feelings, time marched on, passing under his nose as the kingdom prepared. The first day of the festival grew ever closer, and Zane could only watch and wonder.

[just-honey-dewd]

Obligatory Shadow’s height post

This post was brought to you by my own self-indulgence into the thesis statement that is: What would be the heights of all the hedgehogs if they weren’t boosted by heels? And how tall would they be after puberty?

So this was the product of my personal venture.

Canon heights (plus the differentiating shoe types):

Amy = 90 cm*

Sonic, Shadow & Silver = 100 cm

(*Looking at Amy’s model to the height chart is bizarre to me. Disregarding the added height from her heels for a moment, she looks like she should be regarded as 95 cm at least…)

Since all of all the hedgehogs but Sonic are shown to have heels to their shoes in some way, I will be cutting down that height by roughly converting their shoes into sneakers since they’ll never NOT be wearing shoes (note: it’s mostly guesstimates).

Ignore me playing around with Shadow’s shoes in this one lmao

Anyways, after some editing, this was the final result I got. The way they measure the 3D models are p weird, and I came to notice that Silver has slightly smaller eyes and lowered ears to acommodate for his quill crown look, so that makes things slightly harder for my naked eye.

By height order, Sonic (trusting that his shoes aren’t elevating him more than necessary) would be the tallest at the default 100 cm + shoes. He would be considered the oldest at 16 since he technically had an in-world birthday but let’s just say he’d be months older than Shadow.

2nd tallest is Silver at ~98 cm + shoes. His back heel was 2-3 cm, so cutting it down results in him being rather unchanged — which I find interesting considering you’d figure he’d be shorter from being second youngest of the group (and the whole bad future sitch which doesn’t inspire a likelihood that he’d have consistent food servings for optimal growth). If his genes can get him near the height of Sonic in spite of inconsistent food source, I’d wager he might end up the tallest in the future.

3rd place is Shadow at ~95 cm + shoes. His hover shoes gave him 6 cm max of extra height. Taking into account his shoes structure which seemed to resemble the structure of rollerblades (which shaped itself around the foot of the wearer), I gave him a couple inches of soles when putting him in running shoes. He’s probably of average height for a 15 yr old male mobian hedgehog, but considering he was artificially made and apparently ages slowly physically — I get the sense that he might not grow that much in time, if at all.

4th place is Amy at… okay this one was funky. Amy in the initial reference wasn’t measured under the same standard the others were (y’know... by their heads…). So in spite of being said to be 90 cm, I’ll just say that in this instance, Amy was 95 cm plus heeled boots. Thus, the resulting removal of those heels, led to Amy being 90 cm. Honestly, considering she’s a 12 yr old female mobian hedgehog, and is only has a 10 cm gap apart from the current tallest who’s already in the midst of his teen years — she’s probably of average height for her age and sex. She will likely end up reaching at least 95 cm (all confirmed 14 yr old and over female mobians have reached 95 cm) — whether she goes over that height is anyone’s guess.

In summary…

If I were to predict how the hedgehog height chart will be past their growth spurts… I’d say without any changes to their current lifestyles, Silver will overtake Sonic and reach 115 cm, while Sonic reaches 105 cm, Shadow will be in a stasis of 95 cm, and Amy would probably be at 95 cm (since without other female hedgehog mobians in the games to really draw a comparison on, she’s best presumed to just end up in the average height).

One detail I keep coming back to is whether I should call to question the Amy’s height disparity from the references I gathered. Iirc the models here are pretty accurate to what I see in cutscenes between Sonic and Amy height wise. 90 cm makes sense for Amy’s natural height to Sonic, but adding her heels should explain away why her game model is taller than 90 cm. But given canon heights are usually incorporating characters’ heels into them — it makes this isolated incident all the more jarring.

Sigh... -inhales-

“AMY IN HEELS SHOULD CANONICALLY BE 95 CM COME AT ME—“

[nihilwrites]

Under the Stars

Pairing: Legolas / Gimli

Summary:  Legolas and Gimli stargaze together high in the trees of Lothlorien.

Tags: Legolas POV, Fluff, during Canon, G rated, ficlet, completed

AO3 link

Full story under the cut

---

When did Legolas Greenleaf first come to love Gimli son of Gloin?

Perhaps it was when Gimli first came to love the Lady of the Wood.

For in that moment, Legolas saw something in Gimli’s eye that he had never perceived in the eyes of men or dwarves before. And indeed, it made him wonder that he had never really looked into the eyes of a dwarf.

“The sight of elves has grown weak indeed,” thought Legolas, “if they cannot see the depth and beauty of the eyes of Gimli Gloin’s son.”

Dwarves were a proud people. Proud of their creations above all else. Stone and gems and precious silver brought light to their eyes, but they little cared for living things, thought Legolas upon a time.

Not so, now. For Gimli valued the fairness and majesty of the Lady Galadriel above any jewel or stony hall crafted by his forefathers.

When Legolas later spoke to Gimli of the Lady, Gimli’s eyes shone again with wonder, awe, and love. But now his eyes were cast towards Legolas himself, and the elf was struck with a feeling he had not known in all his long years in the great Elvish Kingdom of his father.

From then on, Legolas and Gimli went often together in the land of Lothlorien. Legolas delighted in showing Gimli the wonders of the wood. Each time the dwarf lent compliment to the woodland realm, Legolas felt a thrill go through him. Long had Legolas yearned to see the golden wood, but now he found he preferred to watch the dwarfs enjoyment most of all. Did Legolas truly see the trees and flets of Lothlorien? Or did he only see the purest essence of them, reflected in the face of Gimli?

In the highest flets of the Mallorn trees, the platforms would sway gently in the breeze. Though dwarves are well accustomed to high places and precarious stairs, the stairs are always made of stone and do not sway and rock like a ship on the sea.

“Come just a little higher!” Legolas called merrily, from the ladder above Gimli’s head. “They say this is the best place to view the stars, and the sky is clear tonight!”

“I can see the stars well enough from here,” replied Gimli, holding tightly to the bole of the tree and eying the slender ladder warily, “there, between the branches. A beautiful sight.”

“Would you truly settle for such a narrow view after you have already climbed this high?” Asked Legolas, descending down to Gimli’s level.

“Come, I will carry you to the very top. You may close your eyes tightly lest your fear get the better of you.”

Legolas knelt down and indicated that the dwarf might climb onto his back, little believing that he would.

“Fear! I am not afraid,” blustered the dwarf, “we dwarves are simply not so enamored of stars as you elves.”

Legolas was not fooled by this claim, and merely smiled in response.

Gimli hesitated for a moment and then declared, “I will climb. But you will climb below me, so if this blasted wind shakes me loose it shall bring the both of us crashing down to the good solid earth.”

“You shall climb first,” agreed Legolas, “but if you fall, I shall catch you.”

Gimli harrumphed but began the ascent all the same. Once he was resolved to do it, he climbed quickly and assuredly, somewhat to Legolas’s disappointment. The Elf would have loved nothing more than to catch Gimli in his arms and carry him to safety.

The ladder brought them to the edge of a round platform perched upon the very crown of the tree, without a single branch above it. It was not the tallest tree in the city, but here at the very edge near the great green hedge, it stood a fair bit higher than its neighbors, affording a view that was not to be found in the center of the city where many ancient trees grew thick and tall.

Legolas, with all the balance and grace of the elder race, stood upon the platform as it tilted and turned, riding it like the deck of a ship upon a rolling sea. The movement to him felt comfortable and natural to him, accustomed as he was to climbing the great trees of his homeland and standing upon their boughs.

Gimli, however, was laying face down, with his arms and legs splayed wide to keep his balance.

Legolas laughed and said, “Come, Gimli, if you will not stand or sit then you must at least lay on your back so that you may see the stars!”

Slowly and carefully, so as to not fall off the narrow platform, Gimli rolled onto his back, his eyes shut tight with fear or concentration. After a breath to calm himself, and feeling about with his hands to make sure he was not at the platform’s edge, he finally opened his eyes and beheld the stars.

As Gimli took in the sight, his eyes widened and his breath caught. Here above the treetops, with neither mountain nor cloud in the periphery of his sight, he felt himself to be floating up there among the stars, swimming in them. Distant, they seemed, but no farther than the cares of the world down below.

“Well!” said Gimli, searching for words to describe this new feeling, “well that is a sight to see indeed!”

“It is,” said Legolas.

“Beautiful!” Murmured Gimli, entranced by the heavens.

“Beyond compare,” agreed Legolas, but he was not looking at the stars.

“Come lay beside me, Legolas. Sure-footed you may be, but I believe I’ve found the best position to watch the sky.”

Gladly did Legolas lay down beside Gimli, though his face was still turned towards the dwarf and not the sky at all. Fixated as Gimli was, he made no notice of the elf’s staring.

“What do you know of the stars?” asked Legolas.

“We have named but a few in my language,” said Gimli, “and those only for the purposes of navigation. Those, and the seven stars of Durin’s crown. But we look not to the sky for that constellation, wishing only to see it in the Mirrormere as Durin once did.”

“We have named many constellations in our language, and every young elf learns them by heart.”

“Show me,” said Gimli, and Legolas’s heart sang with joy.

Legolas pointed at a string of twinkling stars and said, “here are the seven stars the elves sing of. Valacirca, sickle of the Valar. Perhaps they are the same that Durin saw reflected in those waters, but elves do not claim knowledge of that lore.”

“Where?” Asked Gimli, “I see only a vast field of lights, forming no distinct shapes in my eyes.”

“There,” said Legolas, pointing a slender finger towards the sky, “see there the four stars of the handle, and three more to form the curved blade.”

“There?” asked Gimli, pointing at an unrelated clump of stars.

Legolas slid closer to Gimli on the platform, shoulder to shoulder, so he could better see the dwarf’s perspective. Legolas took Gimli’s hand and gently adjusted it’s direction.

“There,” said Legolas. “Valacirca. The handle, and…”

“The sickle!” exclaimed Gimli, “yes, I see it! So brightly it shines, I wonder how I’ve never noticed it before!”

Legolas entwined his fingers with Gimli and, hands clasped, continued to point out the constellations. There were many stars to name, and eventually Gimli ceased to make exclamations and grew quiet. 

Thinking his companion had fallen asleep, Legolas lowered their hands and lay there in silence for a while, simply drinking in the night sky.

After some time, Legolas turned his head to look at Gimli, and found he was not asleep at all. His breath was so slow and regular that Legolas had not imagined he could still be awake, but his eyes were wide open, staring contentedly up at the stars. Knowing the dwarf was awake, Legolas became aware that he had not yet let go of Gimli’s hand, and that he did not particularly want to.

Sensing the stare, Gimli turned his head towards Legolas as well, a smile cracking through his previous serenity.

“I think I understand the elves a little better now,” said Gimli, “though I suspect I’ll have forgotten all the names you told me come morning.”

“Then I will tell you again. Each one has a story, and it would take many lifetimes of men to tell them all.”

“And I will listen to them gladly, if we ever land again in such a peaceful place.”

Those words shook the magic of the moment a little, for at once they both remembered that they were in the midst of an urgent quest, and this swaying treetop under the stars was but an island in a sea of dangers.

“The company will be looking for me soon,” said Gimli. “I thought I might fall asleep here, but I am determined to die in battle or as an old graybeard, not as a youngling falling out of a tree because he was too foolish to seek a proper bed.”

“I would not let you fall,” said Legolas, “and I had a mind to rest here myself. The sunrise will be worth the wait.”

“Let it not be said that Gimli Gloinsson is afraid of heights,” said Gimli, “but I daren’t rest my eyes till I am back on solid ground. I am neither bird nor elf, and not designed for sleeping in trees.

“Very well,” said Legolas with a laugh in his voice, “we shall return to the company and leave this bird’s nest to the birds.”

“Good. That’s good,” said Gimli, turning his face back to the sky, “but my eyes are not yet tired, and I shan’t roll off while I’m awake. Will you stay here with me a bit longer?”

“Yes,” said Legolas, “gladly I will stay with you.”

With Gimli’s eyes on the stars, and Legolas’s eyes on Gimli, and both with hands entwined, they lay there yet a while longer, high in the treetops of fair Lothlorien.

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 5)

Summary: Roman confronts the other Sides.

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: Violence and threats of violence, nightmare imagery

Word Count: 3,194

Read on AO3: here

“Won't be long now,” said Mr. Beaver as the group rounded a low hill. The sun was just starting to sink, and the resulting shadow made them all the colder. They had been on the move for nearly twenty hours, with only brief and infrequent rest stops, and had long since begun dragging their feet. Their trail made a continuous ragged line through the snow.

“I can't feel my anything,” Patton moaned.

“Well if nothing else,” said Mrs. Beaver, trudging alongside him and patting his hand, “they'll at least have decent campfires where we're going.”

Another twenty-five or so minutes brought them around the base of that hill and the next one, and then the Beavers led the group up the slope of a third and tallest hill. “And here we are,” said Mr. Beaver once they reached the summit. “The hill of the Stone Table.”

The hilltop was a broad space, clear of trees, with a grim gray construction in the very center: the Stone Table itself. It seemed like the whole snowscape of Narnia spread out before them, all the way to the twinkling ocean. It would have been a lovely view if not for the circumstances that had brought them there.

No one greeted them. They thought at first that no one was even there, but Virgil pointed to a hunched figure crouched on the ground some distance away from the table, tending the embers of a small fire by means of an awkwardly long poker held at full arm's length, as if she were afraid to go too near it. She was very slender, with lightly tanned skin and misty pale green hair that stuck out from her head in bristly locks, falling down to merge with her dress, which was the same color and texture.

“Ailim, is that you?” said Mr. Beaver.

“Oh!” said the woman, rising to her feet in one motion, more gracefully than any human could manage. “Beaver...I wasn't expecting you.”

“Ailim...where is everyone?”

She shook her head with a sound like leaves rustling in a breeze. “A few are nearby, keeping to cover. As for the rest...they are safe in their homes. Where else would they be? Aslan has not come after all. Of my people, only my conifer siblings and myself are even awake. The rest of our cousins still sleep.”

“Ailim is a dryad,” Mrs. Beaver explained. “That's the spirit of a tree. In her case, a fir tree.”

“And you must be the humans of the prophecy,” said Ailim. “Do you know why Aslan has not returned?”

“B-beats me, Miss,” Patton said, teeth chattering. “The story seems to have hopped off the rails at some point.”

“Oh, how rude of me not to notice how cold you are. Do come sit by the fire. She crouched to poke up the flames, and used an equally long-handled set of tongs to add another log. Soon it was crackling nicely, and the Sides were clustered around it, sitting on small boulders that had been cleared of snow and soaking up the warmth.

“It doesn't bother you?” Virgil said as Ailim fed the fire again. “Burning wood? I mean, if you're a tree too...”

“This was all fallen and dead already when it was gathered,” she explained. “No Narnian of good heart would ever cut down a living tree, or even take so much as a single branch. Sometimes an aged dryad who knows she will die soon will bequeath her wood to those who need it, but living trees are sacrosanct. Or,” she added sadly, “so it was before the White Witch came.”

“We'll figure something out,” Patton said. “I think…I think the Witch is hurting someone we care about too.”

“In the meantime,” Mr. Beaver cut in, “this lot needs food and rest.”

“Of course,” said the dryad. “There are shelters in the thickets on the southeastern slope, and provisions. Tap three times quickly and twice slowly on the large boulder and the fauns will let you inside.” She met each of their gazes in turn. “In the morning we must hold a council of war.”

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

At least Jadis's bed was comfortable enough.

Roman had found it eventually, after wandering the frozen castle for what felt like hours. It was only a broad, thick slab of ice on the floor, but it was heaped with enough blankets and furs that he was adequately shielded from the worst of the cold, both from the frigid air of the castle and the bed itself. He crawled in, his head still spinning, and wrapped himself in layers of bedding like a caterpillar forming its cocoon.

Sleep came quickly, but proper rest did not; Roman's dreams were full of ice and crystal and stone and snowflakes that came spinning down out of a black sky like tiny sawmill blades. Where they touched him he flinched and bled, and his blood was the pale turquoise of a glacial core. It whispered to him in sounds that were almost words and phrases in a language he only partially understood.

Perhaps he thrashed or cried out in his sleep, but if so, no one noticed or responded.

And with the coming of the dawn, Roman opened his eyes...and knew who he was. And what he was.

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

The war council never happened.

After their long trek, the Sides had just enough energy left to swallow a few mouthfuls of the stew  the fauns had prepared and fall asleep on rough cots in a den of sorts excavated from the hillside. The Narnians hadn't the heart to disturb them, and they didn't wake until the sun was well over the horizon, and then only because a strange, piercing sound was blaring from outside the shelter, coming from some distance away. It was like a horn, but shriller, and it set their teeth on edge.

Bleary-eyed from stolen sleep, they bustled out to find their hosts interrupted in the act of preparing breakfast. “What's going on?” Patton yawned. “Is it time for the council meeting thingie?”

“We're not sure,” said one of the fauns, whose name escaped him. The peculiar sound continued at intervals of a few seconds, and seemed intended as a signal of some kind.

“Something is approaching!” came Ailim’s voice from the hilltop. “Let us all gather as a show of our numbers!”

“What numbers,” Virgil muttered, but he joined the other two, and the Beavers and fauns and other handful of Narnian citizens now emerging from their respective shelters, in hiking back up to the summit, where Ailim was waiting with another dryad, taller and wirier than herself. They got there just in time to see, bursting through the trees on the northern slope, a Dwarf they barely recognized as the White Witch’s driver. He was blowing on some kind of wind instrument that appeared to be made from silvery crystal—or perhaps ice—which was of course the sound they had all been hearing. Behind him, further downslope, there was some kind of commotion that wasn’t yet visible through the brush and piled snow.

“Narnians!” bellowed the Dwarf. “Make ready to receive your most exalted ruler, the White Warlock!”

“What?” Virgil growled.

“White Warlock?” said Patton. “No, it’s supposed to be the White Witch. A scary lady! I remember that part!”

“'Warlock' is a semi-archaic term for a male witch,” Logan observed.

“Guys, I have the worst feeling about this…” said Virgil.

More creatures were emerging from the trees on the hill slope, and it took the Sides a moment to realize that they were looking at a procession of monsters. First was a group of Goblin heralds carrying gonfalons that seemed to consist only of crosspieces crusted with masses of icicles. Then came a formation of Dwarf archers, and then several Ogres bearing clubs. Following this were a few Hags, hissing and pointing threateningly into the gathering.

(“What is this, the whole bloody entourage?” whispered Mr. Beaver. “Dear! Mind your language!” Mrs. Beaver retorted.)

As the procession reached the hilltop, it broke to its right, circling the space counterclockwise and fanning out along the other side of the Stone Table from the Sides and their allies, effectively corralling them—they could retreat, technically, but there was only one direction available; they would be easy pickings if they tried.

Finally, the White Warlock himself appeared, lounging in a fur-lined sedan chair on the shoulders of four massive Minotaurs. His crown glittered as he moved in and out of patches of shade and his robe was made entirely of ermine, with a train that trailed behind the chair for ten yards, held off the ground by a team of Yew-dryads, their short shaggy hair speckled with scarlet berries. The Minotaurs crested the hill, and one of them kicked snow over the smoldering campfire, extinguishing it. They eased the chair down, and the Warlock rose from his seat, stepped lightly to the ground, and turned to face them.

It was Roman...and he was wrong.

They knew what “evil Roman” was supposed to look like. The fans loved to imagine him, for some reason, and they tagged Thomas in their fanart of the concept often enough that the Sides were familiar with the consensus image: the haughty expression, the gaudy gold crown studded with rubies, and especially the transformation of his suit from pristine, heroic white to Disney Villain black.

It wasn't...it wasn't supposed to become even whiter. It wasn't supposed to gleam almost too bright to look at in the sunlight, so that even the ermine barely looked white by comparison. The gold braid wasn't supposed to be replaced with silver, nor the noble red of his sash with a dusky grayish mauve like dried rose petals under a veneer of frost. The crown was not supposed to be made of silvery ice, with only a single huge diamond set under the central point.

His hair was not supposed to be shot through with white strands that turned out, upon closer inspection, to be ornamentation of impossibly delicate ice filigree. His eyes were definitely not supposed to be gray, flecked with blue-green. And he was not supposed to be pale, but he was—paler than Virgil, if such a thing were possible, lacking even a cold-induced blush to his cheeks, yet without looking the least bit unhealthy. It was as if he had been molded out of ivory.

The only hint of warmth in his appearance was that diamond, which flashed all the colors of fire.

He was wrong.

“Hark! You are all guilty of high treason against the Crown!” he said without preamble, and his voice at least, if not the disdainful tone, was familiar. “Except you three,” he added with a curt nod at his fellow Sides. “However! We are in a lenient mood! Abandon your rebellion at once, and swear fealty to us, and you will not be punished...this time. As for you...” He addressed the Sides again, and for just a moment, his cold arrogance retreated, “...in exchange for your fealty, I will make you all lesser Kings in my court. Think of it! This glorious winter kingdom could belong to all of us!”

The Narnians shuffled on their feet, making no reply. The Sides traded glances, Logan frowning uncertainly and Virgil shaking his head with a haunted expression. Finally, Patton spoke.

“Roman...this isn't fun anymore, with you acting like this. This isn't how you said the story was going to go. Can we just...go home? We can talk out whatever's bothering you.”

It was shocking how quickly Roman's eyes hardened. “I will not be mocked,” he said, low and dangerous. “You have one day and night to change your minds...or else prepare for war. And these—” he made an expansive gesture at the creatures he had brought with him, “—are merely the outermost tip of my armies.” He returned to his sedan chair and the Minotaurs hoisted it up. The procession began to descend the hill.

“Down with the White Warlock!” blurted the taller Dryad, Ailim's companion. “Aslan is King!”

Roman's head whipped around to glare at her. Without a single word, he nodded to the nearest of the Hags, and she lunged at the Dryad, shrieking and making a throwing gesture. There was something like a flash of light in reverse—a flash of darkness—and the tall tree-spirit sank to the ground with a sigh.

“Muricata!” Ailim cried as one of the Ogres stepped forward and lifted the fallen nymph in one massive hand.

“Find her tree,” growled the White Warlock. “Cut it down while she watches.”

“No! Please!” Ailim begged. “She is my sister!”

“Take the other one as well. Let them both watch.” A second Ogre seized Ailim and began dragging her along while she screamed in terror and grief.

“Roman!” Patton gasped. “H-how could you?”

“Don't make me punish you as well!” Roman snarled. “Move out!”

The procession withdrew back down the hill, leaving the Narnians devastated and the Sides both bewildered and appalled. “So now what?” Virgil said, pacing erratically and pulling at his hair. “This is really bad, you guys. Super bad. We're not just talking rail-jumping here. Roman's taken a flying leap off...off something, I don't know, but there is something wrong with him. I thought maybe he was just throwing a surprise twist at us, but did you see him? That look in his eyes? This is so bad—”

“Virgil, you are spiraling,” said Logan. “Try one of your breathing exercises.”

“I don't understand,” said Patton. “Why would Roman go this far? Do you think he's mad at us for something?”

“It is possible,” said Logan. “He has undergone a number of upsetting occurrences recently, and his mood has not been the most stable. Then again, with his talk of 'swearing fealty'...perhaps he is simply craving validation.”

“Should we just give it to him then?” said Virgil. I mean if it's the fastest way to get him off the crazy train...”

“Unfortunately, I have to advise against indulging him in this,” said Logan. “While it may work in the short term to, as you say, 'get him off the crazy train'—which does not sound like a practical or enjoyable means of transportation, by the way—the likely long-term effect would be to encourage him to continue these destructive methods of addressing his self-esteem deficits.”

“Patton, you're the 'should' guy around here...what should we do?”

“I'm honestly thinking we should just leave. The best way to send a message that the game is no good, is to quit playing. He can grapple with his feelings as long as he needs to, and we'll be there for him when he's ready to come out and talk.”

“I would tend to agree,” said Logan, “but I doubt there is any way for us to leave the Imagination without Roman noticing, and in his current state he would be certain to take steps to stop us, possibly violently.” He began to pace rapidly, wearing a tamped-down groove in the snow. “However...perhaps one of us could make it back to the door undetected, leave, and come back with...additional resources.”

“What kind of 'additional resources' did you have in mind?” said Virgil.

“It occurs to me,” Logan said, still pacing, “that Roman is rather...comfortable, with the three of us. That may cause him to take our points of view for granted, which ironically makes him less likely to listen to us than to someone with whom he might experience more interpersonal friction.”

There was a beat while Virgil and Patton took that in. “Oh, no!” Virgil said after a moment. “If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, then...no. I can't agree with that.”

“Just so we're on the same page,” Patton said carefully, “you want to go get Janus? You think he could help?”

“I think his presence might shock Roman just enough to shake him out of his assumptions about how this story is meant to go,” Logan explained.

“You could be right,” said Patton. “Roman arranged all this because he hasn't felt much like a hero ever since we started including Janus in our discussions. But somehow he wound up going completely the other way, to being the villain. Maybe seeing Janus will remind him of what he's trying to avoid?”

“Okay, cool, so I'm outvoted. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. So which one of us should go?”

“I was planning on doing it myself,” said Logan. “It would not be fair to ask you to carry out a plan to which you object, and between myself and Patton, I believe I have a greater chance of making the trek without getting sidetracked or losing my nerve. No offense, Patton.”

“None taken. It's an awfully long way to go by yourself, though. Are you sure you even know the way?”

“I have an excellent head for navigation and I believe I can triangulate the location of the door based on our travels thus far. I would feel more confident if I had some form of transportation, however.”

“I can carry you, sir,” said a deep but young-sounding voice from among the Narnians. It was the largest of those gathered, a Talking Bear not quite full grown but undeniably burly and powerful. “Name of Stoutpaws, sir. I'm not as good as a Horse but I'll do my best.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Stoutpaws. My name is Logan. If we start now, I estimate you can get me to my destination before sundown.”

“You're leaving already?” Patton said, fretting.

“Roman has only given us until tomorrow, Patton. Given the round trip, I need to use every minute I can to make sure I bring Janus back here before the deadline.”

Patton strode up and pulled him into a hug. “You be careful.”

“Likewise,” said Logan.

“I'll guard him with my life, sir,” said Stoutpaws. He crouched on all fours so that Logan could climb onto his back and then loped away down the westward slope of the hill.

“Gosh, things are happening fast,” Patton said, watching them go. “It all started so simply.”

“Come on, Pat,” said Virgil with a lopsided smile that got nowhere near his eyes, “you should know by now that nothing in this mind of Thomas's is ever simple. And on that note...we should probably pull this bunch together and come up with some contingency plans, just in case Logan doesn't get back in time.”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed noncommittally. “And someone oughta buck them up. They just watched two of their own get dragged away by the bad guys to be...” He trailed off.

“Don't think about it too much,” Virgil said. “Just...yeah, don't think about it.” The gathering was breaking up, the Narnians returning dejected to their hillside shelters. Patton and Virgil joined them.

Unseen in the snow-dusted brush nearby, someone was watching...

[legolaslovely]

Wonderful, My Love

A/N: Oh, some lovely Kili for you. This story is based on this imagine from @thefandomimagine and I used the lovely @luna-xial ‘s Writer’s Guide to Dwarfish Courting as literally I always do on all my stories. Please go check all her fantastic guides out.

Pairing: Kili x Reader

Word Count: 1,547

Warnings: Smut with all the fluff

Summary: Kili takes you to a secret waterfall to talk about your future.

You ran through the wood, closely following Kili who had a tight grip on your hand. The paths no longer looked familiar. “Kili, where are we going?”

He looked back at you over his shoulder. You could see his wide smile and a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s a surprise, amrâlimê.” He stopped, holding both your hands in his and kissing them. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do. But every time you ask me that question, the day ends with a long lecture from your uncle.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s only happened a few times. I promise you there will be no speeches from uncle today. He doesn’t even know we’re out here.” With that, his eyebrows wobbled and he led you through the trees at a more comfortable pace.

“Who does know we’re out here?” you asked.

“Only Fili.”

“In case we get lost?”

He chuckled. “We’re not going to get lost, amrâlimê. We’re here.”

You rounded a huddle of tall, thick trees and your mouth fell open in awe when you saw the forest open up and reveal one of the tallest waterfalls you’d ever seen. The sun shone on the clear, glistening water that grew still away from the falls. You could see straight to the smooth red and brown rocks that coated the bottom of the sand. It seemed as if you were in another world, one that hadn’t been touched by dwarfs at all.

“Mahal, Kili. Where are we?”

As you had taken in the beauty around you, Kili only took in yours. He smiled hard. “My mother used to take Fili and me here. Almost no one knows about it.”

“It’s so beautiful.” You bent down and felt the cold water lap against your fingers. Kili soon joined you, rubbing circles into your back. You turned and kissed him, then quickly pulled away and splashed him. He watched you run away and listened to your laugh echo melodically through the falls.

“And they say I’m the trouble maker!”

“Who do you think I get it from?” you cried over your shoulder.

He chased you around the pool and through the trees that formed the edge of the forest. You weaved and bolted until you ran under the rocks of the waterfall. The stone under your feet was dry, but just a couple feet away was the roaring waterfall that began above your heads. There, he caught you, grabbing your waist and silencing your squeal with a kiss. He drew away grinning at you.

“Why did you bring me here, my prince?” you asked, knowing he hated it when you called him that.

He breathed out a laugh and loosened his grip on you. “Can you remember the last time we were alone?”

You giggled. “No. There’s always someone following us around for our attention.”

“The curse of courting a prince,” he mocked.  

“Not a curse at all. I love your family like my own.”

“Even if they leave us no time to ourselves?” Your answering smile let him know you agreed. He led you farther into the rock where the rushing of the falls wasn’t so thunderous. “(Y/N), we’ve been courting since Erebor was reclaimed. But we’ve never spoken of the future- of our future- because we can’t get a moment alone. I want to talk about it now.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been dreaming of a life with Kili, but his lineage had always made your relationship more difficult to discuss. You didn’t know what to say and wished he had given you some kind of warning before springing this on you. How could you tell him you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him? You could feel your heart thrashing in your chest and you tightened your grip on his arms to stop your trembling. “What do you want? Ha-have you thought about any-”

“I want to marry you.”

You froze.

A flush rose on his cheeks and he looked to his feet. “I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I mean it, but I-I should have worded it better. Differently. I didn’t mean to startle you, or push you… I’m not- I’m not proposing exactly, I’ll do that better, but… I shouldn’t have brought you out here like this.” He pulled his hands away from your waist but you grabbed them and held his arms close.

“Kili. That’s what I want. I want to marry you too.”

“What?” Oh, he looked so cute looking up at you like that.

“I want to be your wife, amrâlimê. I’ve wanted that since the day we began our courtship but I never could bring it up. With everything that’s going on with the rebuilding of Erebor, and your family, and Thorin never really liked me-”

“Thorin loves you.”

“He does?”

“He doesn’t show emotion well.”

“Oh.”

You both took a deep breath. Then he smiled. “You want to marry me.”

“Yes. And soon.”

“Well,” he said, grinning at his feet. “I was going to ask you more formally, I had a plan but I probably would have screwed that up too-”

You took his face in your hands. “You did not screw this up.” You chuckled.

Then he dug into his pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around for a while.” He pulled out a special braid clasp, laying it flat in his hand for you to see. In the winding silver were your runes and his and at the bottom, a bright sapphire as he wore in his crown in court.

“Kili, it’s beautiful. How long have you had it?”

“Too long.”

You shook your head with a smirk. Then you spun and sat on the ground, pulling your courting braid from the larger twist holding all of your hair and holding it out to him. He sat behind you and raked his fingers through your hair, until the lovely waves fell down your back. You closed your eyes and reveled in his gentle touch. He took locks of hair from your temple and twisted an intricate and distinctive royal engagement braid into your hair, securing it at the bottom with the new clasp he had forged.

When he finished, you turned and kissed him. He pulled you into his lap, his hands tenderly brushing your cheek and holding you close. Your hands ran through his hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth and you whimpered. He hadn’t had the chance to kiss you like that in a long time.

You drew away to catch your breath. “You’re clothes are wet. Maybe you should take them off.”

His smirk disappeared and he kissed you with passionate urgency. He slipped out of his cloak and set it out on the rock, laying you down over it. Once he shed his tunic, it became the pillow under your head. He dove to your neck and after a few scorching kisses, you felt his breath as he laughed.

“What?” you asked.

He pushed up to hover above you. “That was smooth.”

“Thank you.”

Your fingers slid through his hair at the back of his head and you pulled him down for a kiss. You giggled into his mouth as you felt him continue laughing at your line. What started as a chuckle turned into a gasp as his hands slipped up your sides, pushing your tunic up with them. He kissed your belly and hips, then stopped. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you with his fingers over the laces of your trousers. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure you are what I want, Kili.”

It didn’t take long for your trousers to be discarded and his to be pulled down, revealing his arousal to you. His lips were glued to your skin as he lined himself up and pushed gently into you. He groaned as you sheathed him, you were wetter, hotter, more delicious than he ever imagined. And you were more beautiful beneath him than he ever dreamed.

His groans and your whimpers fit together like puzzle pieces of a symphony, as did your bodies. I was made for her, he thought as he retreated and thrust into you again. He sucked his mark into the skin on your neck as you peppered kisses on his strong shoulder. He soon pushed you to your limits and you were meeting his every thrust with shaky, needy hips.

“Let go for me, amrâlimê,” he said in your ear just loud enough for you to hear over the rushing of the waterfall. You were grateful for the noise as he pushed you over the edge and you couldn’t help but cry out his name.

He grunted as you squeezed him and thrust hard and deep into you before reaching his own release. He barely landed before he rose above you frantically asking if he had hurt you.

“No, Kili. You could never hurt me. You’re wonderful, my love,” you said, feeling blissfully satisfied, loved, and safe.

He hummed, kissing you again. Then he rolled to your side and pulled you close. “Come, my dear. Off the rock.”

You rolled into him and sighed contentedly. “We’ll have to come here more often,” you said.

Kili chuckled and agreed.

New taglist! Message to join! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel

More Aidan/Kili for you both only if you’d like! @alae-megallen @dashesofink

[iwillwalk500miles]

chapter 2 summary of “to build an opera house”

read on ao3

The woman was the tallest, dwarfing Weiss and the boy by a large margin. Her hair was dark, and if not for the way the sun shone down upon them (revealing blood red highlights) she would’ve mistaken the color for black. Her skin was a shade darker than Weiss’, but still pale—nothing like the dusty brown skin of the boy next to her. Her smile was bright, the way her lips curled around her teeth easy and natural, as though she spent more time smiling than anything else. Her dimples were assymetrical, something that drew Weiss’ attention right away—the small beauty marks under her left eye and mouth being the next things.

Her eyes were almond shaped and silver, shining like the moon—sparkling like the way the sun hit the ocean around them.

Something in her chest burned at the sight of her, something curled up between her ribcage and soothed her tired bones—something made her feel at ease. It wasn’t like with Sun, who she’d only become comfortable around when he started talking about Winterreise, the effect of this woman was instant—as though with a single glance Weiss was ensnared in a trap of emotion she didn’t quite know the name of.

Oh. Weiss thought. She’s beautiful.

[nyxtoxicate]

hello yearning: a'plyae mae.

Summary:

Jung Taekwoon, a fourth tier soccer player in the K3 division of Korea's football leagues, juggles the struggle of raising his nephew as well as pushing his career forward when he unconsciously commits an act which bestows a faerie of good fortune upon him. A problem; the faerie is very mischievous. Another problem; the faerie is also very, very attractive.

Rating- Mature.

artwork by @changbaegi​. used with credit.

Chapter 1: Gallimaufry (or read on ao3)

Taekwoon accidentally saves the life of a child, and that’s how it starts. He hadn’t thought that the kid was in danger or anything like that, it was just that he didn’t want his nephew’s friend to fall into the depths off the coast of Hallyeohaesang National Marine Park, where the air is always tangy and the wind tastes of sea salt.

At seven years old, the child was full of wonder, and had leaned too far for Taekwoon’s comfort over the edge of the fence that separated the small group from the crashing waves below. With the reaction time of a caregiver who had spent too much time with a toddler, the six foot something Korean man swooped the boy from the top of the fence- only to watch as the section of the chain link fence the boy had been climbing on fell away with a clang.

Taekwoon watched apprehensively as the metal crashed against the rocks that made up the cliffs below, swallowing thickly when he realized, whoa, that was a really close call.

The child in his arms seemed to grasp this concept at the same time, because wide and terror-stricken eyes searched Taekwoon’s own chocolate hues before he began to cry. They were loud, body wracking sobs, and the football player resigned himself to his fate, consoling the fearful creature before it was snatched from Taekwoon’s grasp and coddled by an equally panicked mother.

He didn’t think he’d done anything particularly heroic, but when he was being thanked like he was Herculean, it was hard not to have some pride. Taekwoon totally didn’t puff out his chest at the praise from the kid’s mother, as it was. Nope. Not a bit.

As he’s busy trying to bring both mother and child to a state of calm, Taekwoon’s gaze wanders, searching for the child that he was actually in charge of supervising. Taekwoon’s nephew was away from the commotion, thankfully, within a horde of students listening intently to a folktale that he was sure the park highly capitalized on. Actually, he was thankful there wasn’t much propaganda around the place. It meant the kids could actually enjoy the scenery. Taekwoon did, however, nearly roll his eyes when the tour guide -a woman in her mid-thirties who was supposed to know the area like the palm of her hand- sent a wink his way. Very professional. Luckily, he remembered himself in time, and managed a wry smile in return before gathering his bearings. They would have to head back soon to the bus waiting for the twenty some kids to take back to their school. Considering that it had taken an energetic bunch almost two hours of walking just to reach this part of the trip, Taekwoon knew he was going to be hearing more than a few exhausted grumbles on the way back.

There were already Park Services officers attending to the area devoid of fence under the watchful eye of a few other parents that had been suckered into child supervision for the field trip. Rolls of yellow caution tape marked off the empty space, and Taekwoon took this as a sign to leave. With a gentle hand to the back of the still sniffling mother’s back, the football player steers them toward the rest of the group. No doubt the park would want a statement, and Taekwoon knew this day was going to be a lot longer than he expected.

“Oh, Jung, I just don't know what I would have done,” Minjee was blubbering, clutching the son who was no longer looking so much scared as annoyed. Taekwoon shakes his head, actually smiling sincerely now.

“I can imagine. If anything happened to Minyul, I would be beside myself,” is his curt reply, voice neutral. He had an image to uphold after all. It wouldn’t do well if someone were to snap a picture of him speaking to this woman looking too comfortable. He didn’t want a dating scandal on his hands when he was well on his way of getting out of the fourth tier of the football league. “But, Dohyun is safe. There is no harm done.”

Minjee opens her mouth again as if to argue, but Taekwoon can already tell that she’s coming back to herself and he thanks all his lucky stars for that. Taekwoon liked her, he really did. She was a doting mother, even if she was forgetful at times, and the school events that they sometimes worked together for always went well if she had anything to say about it. It was just… He really didn’t enjoy long conversations with people he didn’t very well know. They just didn’t do much for him, so when a park officer -not either one of the previous two who were aiding with the fence- emerges from the tour station and approaches the pair, Taekwoon happily leaves to let the situation unfold. A growing sense of unease was building in the pit of his stomach, and he wanted to get Minyul home and safe as quickly as possible.

Minyul hardly seemed to have noticed what happened, too enraptured by the story of the Fae Folk who were said to have crossed the ocean to come to this very spot and make peace with Korea’s own mythical creatures; most notably Chollima. A pretty tale, if Taekwoon were to admit, and he allows himself a moment to listen.

Excerpt From Third The Work of Han Gyeon (1625)

With trepidation we walk through these woods, the crunching of twigs beneath our feet crisp and echoing as the trees hum with life. Every so often a face appears woven into the framework of branches and leaves and we know that this is the world we were not meant to be, but have been granted permission for this occasion and this occasion only. A man, I think it is a man, whistles a tune from behind me, but I do not dare to look back lest I forego any sight of the beauty we are to exchange greetings with. In our hands, the pools of fresh spring water we were ordered to gather so often drip onto the pathway below, gnarled limbs of roots clearing the way ahead of us. There is so far to go as of yet, and ahead, the faint neigh of a horse beckons us forward.

This is what Taekwoon remembered. He could recite the passage off by heart, which wasn’t surprising considering he had asked his mother to read this to him again and again before he found it in him to rest for the night as a child. Watching his nephew experiencing the same feelings, developing the same glint in his eye as he heard the story told to him, it warmed something within Taekwoon’s heart that he didn’t know was there. Or, maybe he had just forgotten about it.

“And that’s about all the time we have for today!” Is the cheerful exclaim from the tour guide, the park badge glinting proudly off the chest of her uniform as she stands to attention. Minyul blinks the same way he does when he comes to from a particularly satisfying nap, and it takes far too much energy than Taekwoon will admit not to coo at his nephew’s cuteness even as the rest of the kids start to rouse again. They’ve gotten pretty used to lining up already, and for that Taekwoon is thankful, because he did not want another incident like the previous one. All of the adults, parents and park workers alike, seemed to be paying more attention now anyway. Unfortunately, the weight on Taekwoon’s chest had yet to ease, and he reached out for Minyul’s hand so that the press of a tiny palm against his could help. It did, and he was much more confident that nothing would happen to his precious nephew as the group moved further and further away from the sets of jagged rock jutting out from the water below. What kind of an uncle would he be if he couldn’t even keep his own family safe. Taekwoon was Minyul’s legal guardian after all.

Excerpt From The Third Work of Han Gyeon (1625)

To be understood as a translation into modern speak of the 20th century. Translation as approved by professors Choi Yongmin and Kim Soyee of Korea University’s Linguistics Department and the International Circle of Korean Linguistics.

To behold the Senrima in its pure essence is a majesty beyond the words I can put to paper. Feathered wings gathered into a graceful arc when the beast was at rest, grazing peacefully, hooves of silver and gold trotting across the expanse of green grass as somewhere, the gurgle of a creek sets the music for the grove. It is not white as I have come to know it as, but a glorious deep amber, pelt reflecting the sun so that a sheen of honey hues decorated its flesh. We did not go unnoticed by it for long, as with one turn of its mighty head the ancient brute regarded us with a level stare. In the briefest of moments, I made contact with the creature and a shiver ran down my spine. Eyes of far too human a making mirrored mine, copper eyes flecked with bright brass a cacophony of colours and its tail flicked once to the left. It seemed to me and mine that the monster- for what else could a creature of this size be as it dwarfed even the tallest of men?- was determining our worth. The bravest soul among us stepped forward, and to me caught unto my sleeve and whispered a warning. “Master,” he began, “do not fret. This is what is meant.” And he stepped forward with not a break in pace to allow the Pegasus a drink from the spring water in his hand. With fascination and repulsion I saw as the mortal’s hand was enveloped, only to emerge from Chomilla’s mouth unscathed. A right of passage. Many of us followed. Only three were left behind, not to engage with the folk that lay just beyond this patch of land. Perhaps Chomilla sought their company. Perhaps Chomilla were protecting the sky- dancers. Free of our first burden, the group of seven now marched on, not allowing our gazes to linger behind us for fortune be lost.

There were markers like this littering the way to the cliffside tour base they had left, and while it was nothing for Taekwoon to read, Minyul was still having some trouble. “Ta,” the child began, referring to his uncle with the nickname Taekwoon had long since been branded by. “My feet are tired.” Ah, so it was a complaint. Nothing to fear, Uncle Ta was here. Without so much as a sound, he knelt down to do exactly what his nephew liked best; give the kid a piggy-back ride. A squeal of excitement and then Taekwoon grunt as the weight of the pudgy child was added to his back. It wasn’t so bad. Years of fitness training meant Minyul felt more like a sack of potatoes than a growing boy. Taekwoon smiled at that, even as the boy’s face nestled into the crook of his neck between his head and shoulder. If all blessings were in order, Minyul would fall asleep like that and make the rest of the walk back a lot easier for his caregiver.

Taekwoon loved that kid. Loved him more than he could remember ever loving anything else. It could be because Minyul was essentially his child now. The circumstances could have been a lot better than they were, but if Taekwoon had to lose a sibling, then at least there was someone left behind. But, he wasn’t going to think about that now as the group was entering into the first part of the trail. It would be easier to walk from here on out, and the football player cast a glance behind him to ensure that the rest of the group was, indeed, following just behind them. Taekwoon couldn’t really help but walk ahead. His long legs were an asset on the field just as much as they were in everyday life. They got him places a lot faster, that was for sure.

“Ta…” He hears the call, softly at first before the whining voice grows and Taekwoon knows for sure that something is wrong.

“Min-ah,” he responds like he’s sure is expected, slowing his pace. Only a half kilometer to go. They had been so close.

“Gotta pee.” Taekwoon groans.

“C’mon, kiddo. Can’t hold it?”

“Gotta pee NOW.” Well, shit. If he wasn’t around a group of first grader’s Taekwoon might not have been able to hold that one back.

“OK, ok, let’s go and find a spot.” He was just glad that they were somewhere still somewhat secluded. If there wasn’t an abundance of shrubbery around, they would have been in a tight spot. As it was, they were far enough ahead of the main group that the uncle and nephew could step away from the main trail and find a more private place to, er, do the deed. Normally, Taekwoon would frown at such behavior, but Minyul wasn’t even old enough to walk to school by himself, so what could he really expect?

“Alright, I’m right here. You can be a big boy and do it by yourself if I turn around, yeah?” It was mostly to keep watch. Taekwoon had a keen eye, and he was always sure to put it to use, particularly if Minyul’s safety was jeopardized.

Said nephew seemed to have already gotten the idea, because Taekwoon heard a zipping sound that could only be an actual zipper and so he took to staring out into the green that surrounded them instead.

This place really was quite beautiful if one took the time to see it. It was particularly nice now, when the September air had yet to become too chilled to enjoy the day but the sun was still pleasantly warm on his face even through the dappled shade of the foliage above. Taekwoon smiled. He felt just like a character from one of the old stories when it was like this, so different from the hustle and bustle of daily life that lie just beyond the trees.

And then he sees it. He almost doesn’t believe it at first, because surely if there was a person out here, they wouldn’t blend in so well to the scenery? Taekwoon squints, trying to peer further at the spot that he was sure the face sprung out of, trying to give some clarity to the image. It wasn’t a trick of the light. Or, at least, he didn’t think it was. The face had been so realistic, staring benevolently right at him with an unwavering gaze. Hell, Taekwoon thought he’d even seen a twinkle in its deep set brown eyes. Big eyes. Not like Taekwoon’s own slanted ones, but round like the cheeks they were set above and curved with impish glee.

So where had the face gone?

Taekwoon really wished he had decided to walk alongside Minjee, and as soon as there’s an affirmative noise from the adolescent at his side, he wastes no time, swooping Minyul up and onto his shoulders so that pudgy calves rested on either side of his neck. Minyul whooped. Taekwoon stared solemnly at the place that he knew the face disappeared from before beginning his walk back to the carved out trail through the forest area. Every so often, he glanced back, but even though there was never a sign of anything following him, Taekwoon couldn’t shake the feelings that he was being watched.

When they got back to the buses, gratefully unscathed but for a manner of scrapes and bruises that all children seemed to get no matter what activity they were engaged in, the sensation had subsided somewhat. Taekwoon was a large man, powerfully built with broad shoulders and a shorter torso that sometimes made it hard to find shirts that fit properly, but he was certain he would be able to hold his own in a physical altercation. He just didn’t particularly want to if it wasn’t necessary. He did think about what he would do if that thing from in the trees came after him, though, and there weren’t very many pretty images that came of it.

Don’t think about manslaughter, Taekwoon, you’re with juveniles.

A whistle sounds from somewhere, the blaring screech cutting through the din of activity in the parking lot.

“Ta, gotta go,” Minyul tugs at Taekwoon’s ear, the larger man obligingly tipping his head to the side to allow for the minor abuse. Ah, right. Minyul was still on his shoulders, which meant that Taekwoon was incredibly careful as he knelt down to allow the small boy down to gather up with his friends again. He chatted so animatedly, using big gestures of his arms and his whole body to convey his ideas, and Uncle Taekwoon was glad that Minyul could be so confident. (Regular Adult Taekwoon knew that this behaviour would soon be frowned upon and that he’d have to teach the boy proper manners soon, but for now he would have the pleasure of watching his nephew grow up in his own loud way.) “They are cute.” And Taekwoon smiles at the sound of Minjee’s voice, the one that he was familiar with, the one that wasn’t jittery and unstable. He nods a confirmation, the look in his eyes much more tender now as he watched Minyul board the bus with the rest of the class. One small, plump hand raises to wave at his uncle, and then the youth is gone in a flurry of bright colours that suited toddler fashion to a T.

The football player would be following close behind in his own car, partly to make sure that there was no danger of him getting lost on the way out, but mostly because he could be overbearing and he wanted to know that the bus was going in the right direction. He was living in a scary time, and he wanted to take every precaution, especially when there was a trip all the way out here, where there were places so secluded that he was sure no person had actually trod there yet.

For some reason, when Taekwoon starts driving away from the park, he starts thinking about the face he had seen.

[thranduil-is-my-king]

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

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

~*~*  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

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought about it!

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Tags: @bluemoon102, @me-lexi20, @evyiione, @ivypage12