#( aragorn should have kept them to kill everyone in mordor )

[random-imagines-blog]

The Way Back {Faramir x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3057 Summary: Love can be found in the unlikeliest of places, such as in a war-torn city after a win.

You took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. It felt like you hadn’t had the time to breathe in days. It had been battle, after battle, after battle against Sauron and his forces, ending up in this, the grand battle outside of Gondor. But the enemy had finally been defeated, the last of the orcs crying back to Mordor. You removed your helmet and let your hair fly free in the breeze as the world seemed to catch it’s own breath back. There was still plenty to do, such as tend to the wounded, burn the bodies of the deceased, and begin plans to rebuild the city. There were many fallen on both sides, even though the battle had been won by yourself, and by Gondor. By Minas Tirith. You looked about you, savoring the moment of peace, before plunging yourself into even more work.

You regretted that you did not attend the last battle at Mordor, but you had a much more pressing issue of helping with Gondor. There was so much here that had to be done, and you put your faith in your three companions. Legolas, your younger brother, who looked so much like you with delicate elfin features, but was a killer with a bow. Gimli, the dwarf that you came to see as a friend and an annoyance in your life, almost like a grumpy old pet, but one who could swing an axe like it was no ones business. And Aragorn, your best friend, a fellow Ranger, who had returned from Mordor and would soon be crowned King. But for now, he left you to care for Eowyn, a woman that he had introduced you to, who had been hurt in the battle. As two female warriors, the two of you struck up a quick kinship. It had been you who had given her a horse to ride among the riders, before you went with your fellowship to hold the dead to their oaths. Your horse, one of the fastest in the world, and the envy of many of the riders, including her brother.

You sat with her in the healing wing, dabbing her forehead gently with a damp cloth.

“I’m barely moving enough to sweat, y/n, there’s no need for this,” She said, trying to wave you away with her injured hand. You shushed her, and put it back down to her side. She looked more fragile than you were used to seeing her. Before, you had seen it in her eyes that she was always ready for a fight, the inner beast in her wanting to come out and growl at the world. A true dragon in pretty colors.

“Would you rather me go and get one of the healers to do it for you? I feel they would not be as good company as I though...” You threatened, and she sighed and allowed you to go on with your blotting. You were not a healer, though you knew a couple of things. Like to constantly check your friend for fever, for the wounds that she had sustained were nasty. She may have stabbed the witch King in the face, but she paid the price for that.

“I don’t like feeling helpless like this. I want to help the healers - it is only a couple of wounds. But no, all they let me do is go for one walk a day among the garden, like I’m some sort of...”

“Woman?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Let us go on our walk then. Let them dare to stop us while we are together. They can try to bully one warrior, but two? I do not think them so foolish.” You took hold of Eowyn’s better hand, and helped her onto her feet. She was eager to be up, and there was a flounce to her step, almost girlish. Sometimes she lamented being a woman, but there was still some femininity to her.

Together you walked out of the healing wing, and out into the open air of Gondor. A lot had been ruined during the war, and was being rebuilt. There were footsoldiers still around, and were helping to guide the reconstruction process. Everyone was helping out - even children, who were spreading the mortar over the walls with their little hands. “Are you going to return to Rohan as soon as you are healed?” You asked Eowyn as you strolled arm in arm, avoiding the places where the most damage had been done.

“After Aragorn’s coronation,” She answered. “I see no sense in returning, just to turn around and come back in a couple of weeks. And with my brother constantly off with the Riders of Rohan, they are going to need a new leader.”

“I see,” You said, nodding. “I’m so sorry to hear about your Uncle, Eowyn. He was a great man, as as I’m sure you knew. And he taught you well, you’ll take his place fantastically.”

“What about you? I remember your father wanted you to return to Mirkwood-”

You shook your head vehemently. “I too will be staying until the coronation. Legolas may be returning but I’m not so quick to leave the scene of one of the greatest battles that Middle Earth has ever known. I’m reluctant to go back...”

“Why?”

“I’m his heir, and he is getting older. I know that he wants me to take up the throne, but I am not Queen material, Eowyn. I belong on the battlefield. That’s where I feel the most comfortable! Not among the rich dresses and the gossip of elfen society,” You opened up to Eowyn, knowing that her, above anyone else, would understand how you feel. “Legolas is better suited as King than I ever would be as Queen. Were it I were born second rather than first...”

“Either way, it would be nice to have someone who is more sympathetic to humans on the throne,” Eowyn said, coming to a halt. You looked at her confused. “There he is - that is Faramir, the new Steward of Gondor.”

You followed her eyeline to see a man, leaning over one of the walls, looking out at the wreckage of the grounds that had been the battlefield. His hair was to his shoulders, a messy light brown - it was a look that many of the human men wore. Aragorn. Boromir -

Of course! This had been the brother that Boromir had mentioned to you during the nights when you two had watch together. But with some more burns upon him than Boromir had ever seen. You had heard of what had happened to him. His own father had tried to kill him.

“Shall we introduce ourselves?” You asked. Eowyn, who was far from timid even while she was wearing a gown rather than armor, nodded her approval.

You approached him together, which did not seem to intimidate him, for he gave you a surprising smile when you reached him. “I hope we aren’t interrupting your thoughts,” You said, pleasantly.

“Not at all,” He inisisted. “I always have time for two of our heroes.”

You beamed down at Eowyn, seeing the little flush on her cheeks. It was amazing seeing her talent be recognized. You were about to praise her even more, just to see if she could go as red as a rose, when one of the healers came running up, interrupting the mood. “You should be resting Lady Eowyn!” She chided.

“But...” Eowyn started, but then gave in rather easily. “Excuse me. I hurt my hand while killing the Witch King. I hope you understand my quick departure.”

You couldn’t stop grinning at her little amount of bragging. She deserved that much. Faramir bowed his head respectfully as the healer took Eowyn away, who was still complaining that she was fine. “Did you receive an injury while doing something important like killing a Witch King?” He asked.

“I stubbed my toe while taking down an Oliphaunt,” You shrugged, making him grin. You realized while he was doing so that he was actually pretty handsome .. for a human. He had a softer face than both Aragorn and Boromir, the only two humans that you could claim had been your friends. Or still were, in Aragorn’s case. He wasn’t as bristly. And he had very kind eyes. The race of men really was starting to grown on you.

-

Your father had come to Aragorn’s coronation. You had not expected him to. He very rarely left Mirkwood. Not since the Battle of the Five Armies had he ventured anywhere near this far. But the King returning to his throne was a grand deal, so you supposed it wasn’t that out of the ordinary. You stood beside your brother in welcoming your dear friend to the throne, and had managed to position yourself in a way that let you look at the Steward. He stood with Eowyn, who had become as wonderful a friend to him as she had to you. A sister to the both of you, though she needed no more siblings - not with a gruff one like Eomer about.

“When are you going to tell father?” Legolas whispered after Aragorn had passed.

“Tell him what?” You hissed.

“About how you are in love with a human,” He said, smiling widely. You nudged him and he nearly fell into Gimli, but his elf-like reflexes stopped him from doing so. “He can’t take his eyes off of you. Is that why you dressed up today? It is so weird to see you in a gown.”

“Can you please be quiet and enjoy our friend’s special day?” You asked in Elvish. Legolas did quiet down but you kept sneaking peeks over at Faramir. The two of you had gotten rather close in the last couple of months. And you might even think that you had given your heart over to the man, though it was very painful to think about. You would continue to remain youthful for many, many years, barely gaining a wrinkle while this man would grow old, wither, die. Life was cruel that way. Unbelievably cruel.

You saw eyes looking at you behind Faramir, and caught your father’s stern gaze. Your eyes widened, and like a child caught doing something bad, you immediately looked anywhere but your father, pretending to be distracted by the leaves, or the sweet little hobbits.

After the ceremony was a lovely party, which Aragorn did not attend because he went straight into his duties. You could say a lot of things about Aragorn, but not that he wasn’t dedicated to his work. You walked through the party, surprising a great number of people by wearing an intricate Elven gown for the occasion. Most of these people had only seen you in your fighting garb, which looked a great deal like Legolas’s. In fact, on more than one occasion, you had been mistaken for one another. Definitely not on this day, though.

You wandered, before Faramir’s hand lightly brushed against your arm, pulling you into conversation. “You look...” He said, gazing at you up and down, trying to find the words. You decided rather than waste time, you would finish his sentence for him.

“-like a beautiful Elven lady?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Faramir said with a grin. He looked bashful, an expression that became him. He could be the most cold, hardened warrior, but around you, he seemed to be a bit more of a bashful mess. It was a very endearing trait. And it was something that brought the warmth right out of you.

“Yes, my daughter is a very beautiful Elven lady,” Your father’s familiar voice said from you behind you. Your eyes said ‘Uh-oh’ faster than your mouth could, and you turned to see him standing there. The blonde hair that the whole family had was gleaming brightly in the sun light. “I’m stealing her for a moment from you, Steward.”

“Of course,” Faramir said with a nod. He walked away with his hands behind his back, having recovered very well from his injuries. You watched as he walked towards Eowyn, and they struck up a friendly conversation. Your two favorite humans - and yet it gave you a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you did not like. You were wary of them being close. You were fond of both of them and you would not be surprised if they became overly fond of one another.

“Is that him?” Your father asked, following your line of sight. You stopped staring, and turned back towards him to give him the respect that he both deserved and demanded.

“Is that whom?” You questioned, your eyebrow arching upwards.

“The human that has stolen your heart?” Your father’s steely gaze cut through you like a knife. So he knew. You looked behind him for Legolas, and once you had caught his eye, you gave him a glare. “Do not blame your brother like you are some sort of child. He didn’t tell me a thing. It is entirely obvious.”

“Do you think that he knows?” You asked, swallowing any denial that you might have had bubbling.

“Since he is an inferior human, I would suppose not.” Your father said, chin held high. “I was going to ask you to come back with me. Take your place as the ruler of Mirkwood. There is a lot of work to be done.”

The happiness that you had felt for Aragorn, and then the slight giddiness that you had around Faramir had dissipated entirely. You were back to the way that the elves usually were. Hard-browed. No emotion showing.

“I’m sure that there is,” You said, not excited at all about the prospect of returning to your home. “And you are sure that you want me to be doing it?”

“As the oldest, it is your duty. Female or not,” Your father said. But he wasn’t catching your eye - he continued to glance over at Faramir. “You have caught his attention most ardently. He will not stop looking in your direction. It almost reminds me of your mother.”

Your heart started to beat in your chest, but your expression did not change. Still, there was a little bit of hope shining through. You tried to catch your father’s eye, but he kept looking away, which was unusual. Usually, he enjoyed looking right into the eyes of the person that he was talking to. It was a power play. And now you were the one who was trying to be the one in power.

“Is there any way that we can postpone it, father?” You asked, trying to make yourself taller so that he could not avoid looking at you. “Just for a few decades? Hardly any time at all - and all of that work will still be waiting for me.”

“A couple of decades? So you can come back after your human lover dies, and take out your grief in your work like I had?” Thranduil asked, tutting. You have never heard him tut before. But you also knew that he had a point. You remembered how he had thrown himself into his duties as King when your mother had died. He hadn’t given himself the proper time to grieve, and his leadership was lack for that. “We’d better give it a century or two. I might be able to finish my own tasks in time for that.”

“Surely - you’re joking? This is the first joke that you make and you decide for it to be this?” You questioned, unable to take your father seriously at this moment. His expression had not changed at all. In fact, now, it looked a little bit angry.

“I do not joke.” He said, glaring at you. “I am trying to give you the opportunity to love.”

You tried to search for any sign of deceit in his eyes, but could find none. He even looked a little ... flustered? Uncomfortable at the idea of talking about love with his daughter? Either way, you weren’t going to pass this opportunity up. You clasped your hands in front of yourself and gave him a bow which he then returned, before sweeping himself away to talk to Legolas, which was always much less about emotions.

You walked back over to Faramir and Eowyn, and put your hand on Faramir’s arm like he had to you just moments before. “May I speak with you for a moment?” You asked him, looking over at Eowyn. The blonde woman gave you a knowing smile, and walked off to speak with Merry, whom she had grown fond of over the war. The Steward of Gondor looked at you, still with that soft grin that you enjoyed looking at so much.

“What is it?” He asked, the grin faltering slightly. You’ve never asked him to talk privately before, and he wondered if something was wrong. But you took that away from him with your own lips, which you softly pressed against his once you were sure you had a little bit of privacy. “My lady?” He questioned, after returning it.

“It is unconventional, but it appears that I’ve fallen for you, Faramir, Steward of Gondor.”

“You have?” He asked, bewildered, but then seemed to regain his senses rather quickly. “I thought you never would. I’ve already resigned myself to growing old by myself.”

“You don’t have to,” You said, taking hold of his rough and calloused hands, giving them a squeeze. “If you will have me, I’d like to be by your side as you grow into a handsome old man.”

“While you stay the same?” He asked, his voice going softer.

“Yes,” You said with a nod. There was no point in beating around the bush - he would grow old and you would stay exactly as you were. It would be quite some time before you started to look older than you already were.

“My beautiful wife,” Faramir said, leaning in for another kiss. You granted it happily.

[strangeradventuresofp]

second thoughts (legolas x reader)

The Fellowship of the Ring - Part 5

masterlist

warnings: character death, fighting

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

a/n: hi my lovelies! first of all im so sorry about how long this has taken me, ive been struggling with writers block since the last chapter so i apologise if this chapter is a bit crap but i actually really like it? im proud of myself lol a n y w a y it might be a little while before the chapters regarding the events of the two towers comes out as i need to plan etc etc but anyway i hope you guys enjoy this chapter! i love you guys so much, thanks for sticking with me<3

It had been days since you had set out from Lothlorien and no one’s spirits were above average. Frodo seemed wary; Sam worried for his master. Boromir did not speak much, even to you, which was very odd. Legolas kept to himself, more than usual. Gimli was particularly talkative, probably to fill the dreaded silence. Aragorn had nothing of importance to say. Merry and Pippin chatted back and forth quietly. And you, you did not know a single way to heighten their – and your – spirits, so you stayed silent instead.

You journeyed from Lothlorien on boats down the Great River, Anduin. Sam and Frodo rode with Aragorn, Merry and Pippin with Boromir and you with Legolas and Gimli. Honestly, you could not remember how long it had been since you had left, only that it seemed like a lifetime.

At one point, whilst sailing down the river, the sound of marching caught your attention, your head whipping to the left, finding nothing but trees and foliage. “What’s wrong, lassie?” Gimli asked, noticing that something that captured your focus.

“I thought I heard something beyond the trees.” You declared, shrugging when no one else heard anything. Suddenly though, Legolas faced the same trees, and the two you of shared an inquisitive look.

Eventually, the nine of you reached a place that you certainly recognised. You sat up in the boat, gently calling Aragorn’s name to the boat beside you, before pointing. His eyes lit up as they met the huge stone statues. He tapped Frodo on the shoulder gently.

“The Argonath. Long have I desired the look upon the Kings of old: my kin.” His lips turned up at the sides. You turned around to catch Boromir’s eye, a smile on your face, one which he returned incredulously.

It was not long after that that you reached your destination, a small rocky piece of land that led into a forest, not far north of a waterfall. Legolas docked the boat, hopping out and offering you a hand to help you out which you gladly took with a smile. The two of you turned to help out Gimli, but your eyes wondered as you began to heave the dwarf from your boat. Looking at Boromir, you could easily tell that something was wrong. Despite the sun shining and the elven cloaks, he shivered and closed his eyes, a regrettable look on his face. He hesitated to get out of the boat. You made your way over to him, offering him your hand just as Legolas had done for you a minute before. He looked up at you, flashing a very weak smile before he took your hand. Although he took your hand, he used his own weight to help himself out of the boat, landing in front of you. He seemed pale and gaunt, traits that were unusual to say about him. Casually looking around his frame to catch his eye, you could tell that his face was angled to gaze upon Frodo. A treacherous thought crossed your mind and your heart ached in your chest for a quick moment.

Not knowing how long you were going to be there; Aragorn built a fire with the help of Merry and Pippin. After an hour or so, you were reaching the camp again with Merry, placing down the wood that you had just collected. You scanned the area, your eyes widening in horror. Merry seemed to notice the very same thing that you did, the two of your turning to Aragorn.

“Where’s Frodo?” Merry asked. A wave of horror seemed to wash over the remainder of the members of the Fellowship, save one, for Boromir was not at the camp either.

“Oh, no.”

“What? Y/N, what is it?” Aragorn questioned, coming closer to you, urgent for information.

“Boromir was acting strange when we docked. He was pale. He—He wouldn’t take his eyes from Frodo. I didn’t think anything of it; I thought maybe the boat had made him ill. Forgive me, I—I should have said something.” You sniffled, a few tears pooling in your eyes and Aragorn shook his head, squeezing your hand gently.

“No, you did not know. Everyone split up; we must find them. Save from Y/N, come with me.” Nodding quickly at Aragorn’s words, you plucked your knives from the ground and ran with him.

It was difficult to tell how long you had been running to find them, for the adrenaline had consumed your entire body. You could hear the thudding of your feet on the floor, but you could no longer feel them. The beating of your heart seemed to resonate in your ears and fill your senses, and your breath heaved in your chest.

You stopped for a moment, Aragorn following your lead. Faintly, you heard a thump and a grunt, as if someone had fell. You led Aragorn towards the sound, the two of you coming to a stone structure. You walked around it, his feet seeming to echo as the sole of his boot came into contact with a rock wedged into the ground.

“Frodo?” He called out. The hobbit lay on the floor frantically turned around, his eyes scanning the two of you.

“It has taken Boromir.” Frodo declared, the statement drawing a gasp from your throat, a tear or two streaming down your face.

“Where is the Ring?” Aragorn moved towards the terrified hobbit.

“Stay away!” He yelled, running away from him.

“Frodo.” Aragorn opened his arms in submission. “I swore to protect you.”

“Can you protect me from yourself?” Frodo opened his hand, the Ring sitting on his palm. “Would you destroy it?” Aragorn moved closer to him, kneeling in front of him. You stayed a few steps behind. He closed Frodo’s hand around the Ring, pushing it to his chest.

“I would have gone with you to the end.” You joined Aragorn, kneeling before Frodo, an apologetic look on your face. He looked between the two of you. “Into the very fires of Mordor.”

“I know.” He nodded gently, turning to you. “Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand.”

You nodded, a soft smile on your lips. “I promise.” You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As you pulled back, you looked behind, your eyes widening as the sound of treading feet filled your ears. You looked at Aragorn.

“Go, Frodo.” He unsheathed his sword, and you your knives. Frodo pulled on the hilt of his sword, his eyes growing wider as it glowed blue. “Run, run!”

“Now, Frodo!” You urged, eyes hardening as you turned away from him, walking with Aragorn to meet the fast-approaching, large group of Orcs. He raised his sword. Your knuckles whitened as you firmed your grip on the hilts of your knives. The two of you shared a subtle smirk as they approached.

An Orc swung towards you, but you skilfully dodged before plunging one of your knives into its fleshy side. Another moved towards you before you sliced its throat, driving your free weapon into its chest before kicking it away from you. You saw another making its way towards Aragorn from behind, and so you reached forward to cut its throat and push it into the ground. A sword was swung over a head, but you caught it, countering it before sticking each of your weapons into each of its eyes.

The sound of colliding swords filled your senses as you and Aragorn continued to fight the mass number of Orcs. The leader, whose face was stained with the white hand of Saruman, was grunting in displeasure before he yelled with an angry, gruff voice.

“Find the halfling!” He repeated, almost seeming like a chant, and many of the Orcs fled in the same direction that Frodo had gone, and suddenly your heart filled anxiety. You had scarce noticed Aragorn’s disappearance until he appeared again, jumping from the top of the stone structure into a group of Orcs, shouting ‘Elendil’ as he made contact with him. You let out a small laugh whilst you continued to slay the Orcs coming forth. Aragorn still had not been given the chance to stand, countering attacks while he was lay flat on his back. When you tried to get close to him to allow him to get up, much to your surprise, Legolas and Gimli emerged through the stone.

“Aragorn, go!” Legolas shouted, stabbing an Orc in the face with an arrow before using it to shoot the one behind. Aragorn noticed that you were busy and ran. Gimli hacked at the forthcoming Orcs with his axe, swinging it brutally over his shoulders to slash off limbs and pieces of flesh. You continued to cut and stab expertly through the thick skin of your enemies, eventually making your way towards Aragorn.

A certain Orc took you by complete surprise, swinging with a closed fist which you merely dodged. Overwhelmed by the shock, the delay caused you to barely counter the Orcs attack, pushing the blade of your knife against the ragged blade of the sword. It let out a growl and you a yell, forcing it back with all of your strength. As you blinked, you felt a small rush of wind pass by your face. You looked back to the Orc, an arrow protruding out from its face as it fell lifelessly to the floor. You took a sharp breath, giving Legolas a thankful nod and smile as Aragorn pushed the final body to the floor.

Suddenly from the distance, a horn blew, very familiar. In that moment, your heart sank. A bubbling filled your stomach, an urge coursing through your veins. Aragorn looked at you, as did Gimli and Legolas.

“The Horn of Gondor.” Legolas confirmed and you swallowed thickly, sprinting to the sound with all of your might. Aragorn followed close behind, cutting down the Orcs that managed to pass you. The urge was so strong in overtaking your body, that any Orc you saw filled you with an unexplainable rage. They would be lucky to be killed by Aragorn instead. You slaughtered all that came close to you, your vision turning red when the horn sounded again. With a roar, you lunged and jabbed and thrusted your knives at as many Orcs as you could. Your breath heaved from your chest.

You looked back at the others. “Hurry!” It was impossible to miss the terrified urgency that wrapped itself around your words and suffocated them. Even you heard it. And it was true; you were terrified. Terrified that you would not get to him in time. Terrified that he had called for your help and you would not show. Terrified that after everything he had done for you, that you would not be able to save him. You ran.

You ran over a little hill and your heart stung, as if you had been stabbed right in it with a morgul-blade. There was Boromir on his knees, arrows wedged into his body with the Orc leader standing over him, drawing an arrow that pointing right into his face.

“NO!” You cried with an intense vigour. Tears pooled and poured down your face as you ran toward the Orc, tackling him into the dirt. As you both stood, you used both of your knives to counter his blade. Your eyes were dark though they were streaming with wetness. It rumbled menacingly in your face and you kicked it away from your body, cutting through many pieces of flesh before it threw its shield, winding you. As you caught your breath, it stepped towards you and you yelled, driving your knives deep into its shoulder and thigh. It kicked you to the ground with an annoyed grunt, swinging its sword over its head to crash into the ground beside you, for you rolled out of the way. You crawled through its legs, grabbing it from behind and slitting its throat deeply, slowly. It pushed you back to the floor, once again raising its sword. But as it did so, a blade stuck out through its neck and its head rolled off its shoulders into the dirt. Behind the body was Aragorn, who helped you up quickly. You had no time to thank him before you ran towards Boromir, falling to your knees by his side.

“They took the little ones.” Boromir struggled, his breath getting sharper in his throat.

“Hush, now. Do not move.” You sniffled, your lip quivering at the sight of his paled face and bleeding body.

“Frodo. Where is Frodo?”

“I let Frodo go.” Aragorn admitted, his own voice trembling as it exited his mouth.

“Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him.”

“No, that was not you.” Boromir cupped your face as you spoke. A series of sobs forced their way from your chest. You took his glove from his hand, placing it back against your cheek and placing your hand over the top of his.

“Forgive me. I did not see. I have failed you all.” You shook your head at his words, tears pouring from your eyes like a monsoon, so much so that you could not even speak.

“No, Boromir. You fought bravely. You have kept your honour.” Aragorn moved to remove an arrow from his chest, but Boromir grabbed his hand.

“Leave it! It is over. The world of Men will fall, and all will come to darkness, and my city to ruin.”

“No. No, I’m going to fix you. You’ll be okay, you’ll see. It will be like you said, the tower guard will—will take up the call.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again slightly. He gave you a knowing look and you shook your head, hugging his body, sobbing heavily into his shoulder.

“I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall. Nor our people fail.” Aragorn put his arm around you.

“Our people.” Boromir smiled.

“Our people.” You repeated, sniffling. Boromir stretched out his hand, and you gently placed his sword in it. He held it to his chest for a moment before pushing it to yours.

“I want you to have it, if you would take it. Something to remember me by.”

“How could I ever forget you?” You cupped his cheek, his eyes filling with tears when he looked at you.

“You—You make me so proud - the daughter I never had. Look after her” He turned his gaze to Aragorn. “I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My King.” He managed a small smile before he let out a breath. His final breath.

Your head shook in disbelief, your eyes filling persistently with tears, your heart aching profusely. Every time you blinked multiple new streams of salt water trickled themselves down your face. You could hear the pat of every tear falling onto the leather of his shirt, pierced by the arrows that were wedged deep into his chest. Aragorn held you as you wailed, your chest heaving up and down as sobs forced themselves from your throat and chest. His arms were strong but comforting. Tears fell from his own eyes as he held you, rocking gently with you in his arms whilst you cried into his shoulder.

Legolas watched from a little while away, his brows turned upwards in sorrow, his own heart hurting at the sight of you. When his eyes fell on Boromir, he swallowed dryly, hardly knowing what to do or say. He decided to stay silent, ears filled with the sounds of your tears and sniffles, paired with Aragorn’s low, reassuring mutters into your ear. Amongst your cries he could hear soft shushing and a sniffle that did not come from your frame.

You had no idea what to do. It was not easy to comprehend that your companion, the man who took up the role to raise you was now gone from the world. Your heart hardly hurt anymore, instead just throbbing with an incredible numbness, emptiness being the only thing to fill the void that you felt in your chest. Cold spread throughout your body as you looked upon his paled face, fiercely bubbling in your stomach in a way that made you feel as though you could spit fire, consumed by rage and sorrow – fighting to the death inside you. But you could not think about that right now. Not with Aragorn cupping your face, firm but gentle, moving you to look at him.

“Look at me. Look at me, Y/N.” You took his instruction. “He died with honour. That is what matters. He is at peace.” You merely managed to nod your head, since a stabbing sensation radiated through it when you moved. A hand on your shoulder. You looked up with a sniffle, to find Gimli kneeling beside the two of you on the ground, his own eyes teary from the scene. You placed one of your hands over his, and he cupped your joined hands in his other, squeezing gently before letting go and rubbing your shoulder. He did not have to say anything.

Aragorn helped you stand, stepping back to allow you to take a breath, before returning to the task at hand. You knew it was more important, and the others knew that you knew that, too. You turned, facing the three that you had been with since Rivendell, ridding your face of all tears with the back of your hand, sniffing.

“I do not want to leave him here; I would very much like to send him down the river if there is time.” You offered, not getting your hopes up as time was growing shorter. It would not be long before the Orcs found nothing on Merry and Pippin’s bodies and discarded of them, the only way they knew how.

“Of course, there is time, mellon nin.” Aragorn reassured.

“Anything you need, lassie.” A small smile grew on Gimli’s face and you returned it as best as you could. Aragorn noticed the conflicted look on Legolas’ face, and asked Gimli to help him move Boromir’s body back to the shore, where you had left the boats. Once the two had moved away from you and Legolas, you looked up at him, not missing the look that was present on his face either.

“Legolas, you need not say—” Your words were interrupted by strong arms scooping you up, pulling you gently against a warm chest. He engulfed you into a hug, your body fitting so perfectly against his own. All you could do was wrap your hands around his built torso, sighing as you pressed your cheek against his chest, matching your breathing with his heartbeat. The two of you stayed there for a while in each other’s arms, an intimate gesture between a pair of friends for comfort and reassurance.

~~~

It had not been long when you and Aragorn pushed the boat containing Boromir’s body down the river. His shield was above his head, his hands laying on his stomach, gripping his sword. In the end, you decided that you would not take it. You did not need anything to remember him by, only the memories that you had shared over the years. Also, the balance was never right for you, a fact that he also knew. There was no way that you would be able to keep a long sword simply as a memento. He knew it as well as you did. If anyone ever found him, you wanted them to know that he died with honour – Captain of the White Tower of Gondor. On his chest, latched to his clothing, was a brooch; a gift that he had given to you one day. You pressed a kiss to his forehead before you grabbed one side of the boat, hauling and pushing it down stream with the help of Aragorn. Your eyes wetted at the sight of the boat nearing the river, but with a side hug from Aragorn, a smile from Gimli and Legolas’ presence, you knew you were going to be okay.

Suddenly, Legolas grabbed a spare boat, rushing it toward the water. “Hurry! Frodo and Sam have reached the Eastern Shore.” He looked back, eyes flickering between you and Aragorn, and then Gimli. Aragorn sighed, before both of you looked over to the Eastern Shore, where you could barely make out the shape of two hobbits beyond the trees and moving further. The four of you shared a knowing look. “You mean not to follow them.”

“Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands.” Aragorn said plainly. A look crossed Legolas’ face that you could not quite distinguish.

“Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed.”

“No, Gimli.” You denied, a small smile creeping across your face when Aragorn stood up beside you, reaching over to grasp the shoulders of the dwarf and the elf.

“Not if we hold true to each other.” Gimli placed his hand over the ranger’s arm, nodding slightly. You gave Legolas a smile, squeezing his hand gently. “We will not Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left.” He abruptly turned tail, beginning to walk away into the forest.

“Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light. Let’s hunt some Orc.” As Aragorn continued to stride through the sparse foliage, you, Gimli and Legolas shared a look. A smirk grew on all of your faces, Gimli shouting in approval before running to Aragorn. Legolas took your hand in his with a smile, his bow in the other. You gripped at his hand in response. The two of you ran with each other, joining with the others before you begun to trek what would be a chase that would be counted a marvel among the three kindreds.

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[wheres-everyone-going-bingo]

Alright imma just throw a concept out there, good sexy orc/uruk hai reader tops Legolas. I'm just saying, if there were good boi versions 👀

Night Watch

Pairing: Legolas x Uruk Hai Male Reader

Warnings: smut

——————-

The campsite smelt foul, not only did it have the stench of orcs but it was accompanied by the smell of burning flesh of an orc who stood out of place. We had been on the trail of the fellowship for a few weeks now, finally catching up to them when they rested in a clearing in the woods. The party had split up, trying to escape, but our numbers had overpowered them. Now they sat tied to an old oak tree. I wasn’t a stranger to killing, I had done it many times. However I had done it in self defense, I didn’t see the honor in tracking down, and killing a group of people trying to better the world. I wasn’t on board with Sauron’s rule, it sounded like hell.

I stood from my seat on the ground, heading towards where we kept our food. Opening the sack I was greeted with various pieces of bread, and a few stashes of rabbit. I picked out my rations, turning to glance at the fellowship, I tried to remember the last time they had eaten. My mind came up blank. I grabbed a few extra pieces of food, making sure no other orcs saw me.

The elf noticed my approach first, he tensed up, warning the others of my presence. I gave them a smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but judging by the smallest hobbits reaction, it didn't work.

“What do you want, orc?” The dwarf spat at me, I grimaced at the harshness in his words.

“I uh, just noticed that my tribe hasn’t fed you since your capture” I replied, revealing the food in my hands. They all eyed me with suspicion as I placed the food next to their hands.

“It’s poisoned isn’t it?” The dirtiest looking human asked, obviously not seeing my good intent.

“Look, I know that I’m an orc, it’s obvious. However I would appreciate it if you thought to yourself that maybe all of us aren’t bad. It’s impossible to have an entire race with rational thought, and for all of them to be evil, some of us think for ourselves” I spoke to them, desperately trying to get my point across. They stared at me, watching my every move with caution. I sighed, noticing their stubborn distrust in me. “Fine, I see you don’t trust me, but you either die of ‘poison’ or starvation” I muttered, walking away from the group.

“He does have a fair point” Boromir offered, picking up his food to examine it.

“I’ll try it” Legolas spoke up, willing to put his life on the line for his friends. Legolas brought the bread to his mouth, taking a small bite. Everyone looked at him intently, waiting for him to drop dead or something. He then took another bite, not realising how hungry he was until now.

“It is settled then, we shall eat” Aragorn said, taking a bite of his food. The fellowship watched the strange orc intently for the rest of the night, noting how he kept to himself.

The sun rose along with the orc warriors. However this morning was more chaotic than usual, a fight had broken out among the tribes. The Snaga had gotten out of line and questioned my people, resulting in a massive fight. I made sure to stay hidden, not wanting to get involved in the bloodshed. I noticed a gangly Snaga creeping towards two of the hobbits, licking his lips as he drew his knife.

“Please don’t eat us!” Pippin pleaded, eyes wide at the rusty blade in the orc’s hand

“Yeah! We’re only skin and bone!” Merry added, as the rest of the party struggled against their restraints, trying to save the pair. The orc raised his knife, ready to stab Merry. He let out a horrible squeal as blood rushed from a stump where his hand used to be. Everyone’s eyes turned to me as I held my sword, now stained with the Snaga’s blood.

“You! You cut off my hand!” He snarled in fury, clutching the stump close to his chest.

“Yes, now run away before you lose your head too” I warned, pointing my sword at him, he took the hint and scurried off in fear. “Are you okay?” I asked the hobbit, scanning him with my eyes to make sure he wasn’t wounded.

“I, uh, yes, I think so” He responded, mouth agape. I nodded, kneeling down, bringing out my knife to cut the rope that was tying them to the tree. The rope gave up, falling to the ground in pieces.

“You should go, while everyone is distracted” I advised them, handing them their stuff. The group got to their feet, taking all of their stuff and equipping it. They started to walk away quietly until one of them stopped, turning to me.

“What about you? Surely they’ll kill you” Legolas questioned, worried about my well being

“They most likely will, yes, but I’m okay with that” I smiled at him, walking back towards camp.

“Wait!” I felt a hand on my arm “Come with us? We could use someone of your strength and you know the enemies plan” Legolas pleaded with me, not letting go of my arm

“We are not allowing him to come with us!” Boromir exclaimed, looking shocked at the very idea

“Are you daft, elf? He’s an orc! He’ll kill us” Gimli tried to reason, not forgetting what terrible things orcs had done to his bloodline.

“They don’t want me to come, majority rules” I smiled at the elf, grateful for his concern, however his grip only tightened.

“You do not have to come with us all the way, but please, come with us, come with me” He begged, I sighed, nodding my head, knowing that he was too stubborn and every second more we spent at the camp, would put them in even more danger.

--------------------

It had been a few weeks since that day at the camp. The group, especially the dwarf, did not trust me at all at first but had slowly begun to warm up to me. The hobbits had shown their thankfulness of my rescue by putting together a cheerful song about ‘the orc with a heart of gold’. Although Legolas was not like the other party members. He did not engage in friendly sparring but instead rested his head on my lap when he found it hard to sleep, something about him was different.

I was supposed to be on watch tonight, but the others, besides Legolas and the hobbits, didn’t trust me to watch over their sleeping bodies, so they had Legolas stay up with me. We were discussing beautiful landscapes that we had come across in our travels, he had a lot more examples as Mirkwood was a lot prettier than Mordor.

“I love hearing you talk” I told him “You just have so many good stories, sounds much better than being an orc in Mordor”

“You know when this is all over, you can come live with me in Mirkwood” He offered, I scoffed at the idea

“An orc? In Mirkwood? I’d be killed on the spot”

“I won’t let that happen, I don’t care if my father disowns me and I’m banned from Mirkwood, I’m not going to let you go back to that life” He turned to me, his face dead serious. I grinned to myself, glad that he cared for me. “It’d be great, we could get a house together, I’d introduce you to elven traditions and foods, and we could even share a bed” He said the last bit quieter than the rest.

“You want to share a bed?” I asked, meeting his gaze.

“If you, uh, I mean, if you wanted to” He tumbled over his words, his face heating up.

“I’d like that” I told him, finding his embarrassed state very cute.

“What else would you like?” Legolas pried, leaning closer to my body

“A nice meal, to not be so cold, and avo have ukex wiavh lat” I admitted, saying the last part in orcish. Legolas tilted his head, not understanding orcish.

“What’s that last part mean?”

“avo have ukex wiavh lat translates to ‘to have sex with you’” I looked away, my turn to be embarassed. I heard Legolas chuckle next to me

“You’re not very subtle” He joked “But as long as we’re quiet we don’t have to wait for that” He whispered to me. I smirked, iking where this was going. Legolas crawled onto my lap, steadying himself by putting his hands on my shoulders. He rolled his hips, pressing down on me. I let out a primal snarl as I grabbed onto Legolas’ hips.

I pressed my lips against Legolas’ my tusks getting in the way slightly. I trailed my mouth down Legolas’ neck, biting at his smooth skin with my teeth. He gasped as I found his sensitive spot, quickly biting down on his knuckle, trying to keep quiet. My hands tugged at his pants, desperate to remove them. Legolas lifted himself off of me slightly, pulling his pants down.

I wrapped my rough hand around Legolas’ cock, giving it a few pumps as he bit down on his knuckles harder.

“Oh, please, take your pants off” Legolas breathed in my ear, clawing at my garment. I obeyed his request and tugged my pants down to my ankles.

Legolas put his fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva. He started to push them in and out of his ass, putting on a show for me.

“I’m ready for you now” He purred in my ear, as he lined himself up with me. I let out a low guttural sound as he pushed himself down on me. He started to move, pushing himself up and down on me over and over. I couldn’t hold in my urge anymore and threw him to the ground, me on top of him.

I growled in his ear, roughly thrusting in and out of Legolas. The biting of his lips and concentration to be quiet displayed his pleasure. I started to growl and make animalistic sounds as I pounded the elf into the dirt. He started to swear in elvish nearing his release.

“Y/N, oh, I’m going to cu-“ he stuttered, losing control of his body’s movements. The feeling of Legolas’ body clenching around me was enough to push me to my orgasm. I came inside him, we pulled away from each other, looking around to make sure we woke no one up.

“Looks like we got away with it” Legolas whispered as we clothed ourselves.

“I’m glad, maybe we could do it again some time?” I offered, leading him back to the rock that we were sitting on.

“Yeah, let's do that” he smiled at me.

[guardianofrivendell]

PERFECT SECRETS - CHAPTER 3

Legolas x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary:  Mira. A short and unusual name for a short and unusual Elf. After an audience with Galadriel goes sideways, she leaves her birthplace Lóthlorien and the Elves for good.  That is until a certain Gandalf asks for a favor. Come along on her journey, as she reluctantly agrees to accompany Gandalf on the quest to destroy the One Ring.  She befriends every Fellowship member, except one. Legolas and Mira are water and fire from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other. Will this be an obstacle during the quest or is it going to make everything just a little more interesting?

Warnings: None, just men being men. 

Masterlist Perfect Secrets

THE COUNCIL OF ELROND

While Gandalf and Mira climbed the stairs, she asked him why he had summoned her. Gandalf wouldn’t say, only telling her to be patient and that everything would be cleared up at the ‘Council of Elrond’. 

When the pair reached the top of the stairs, they were welcomed by Lord Elrond.

The Council hadn’t begun yet, and Mira was a bit surprised to see more people than she expected to be at a secret meeting. A delegation of Elves, Dwarves, Men and one small Hobbit were seated in a circle, around a rock with a flattened surface. 

They were looking towards her and Gandalf. She could hear them mutter amongst themselves asking who the hooded lady was. She smirked confidently. Let them guess, she thought. They’ll never know. 

Elrond gestured to take a seat in the two remaining empty chairs, one next to the Hobbit and one between Legolas and the other Elves. Did Elrond suspect something?

Mira looked back at him, but he had already turned around to take a stand at the head of the circle. Gandalf took the seat next to the Halfling, whispering a few words into his ear. She hesitated for a few seconds, before walking around the outside of the circle to the wall of the building, feeling the eyes of everyone piercing her back. She turned around and leaned with her back against the wall, arms crossed, one foot over the other. 

It was her way to say she didn’t belong to the Elves nor Men, keeping the mystery alive. Plus she preferred to be in the background anyways. Gandalf nodded at Elrond, signaling that the Council could begin.

“Strangers from distant lands, friends and old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it, you will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to its fate; this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo,” Elrond asked the small Hobbit. Frodo stood up and carefully placed a small golden ring on the centered rock. 

“So it’s true,” one of the Men gasped, his eyes fixed on the ring. “In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. But in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: your doom is near at hand. Isildur’s Bane is found.” He was on his feet now, and got dangerously close to the ring. 

“Boromir!” Elrond warned him. He sat down at once. 

“Frodo, will you tell us how this ring came to you and the troubles you have faced already?” Gandalf asked the Hobbit. Everyone listened to his story, how he inherited the ring from Bilbo, that he had encountered Black Riders, fought against them and got stabbed by a Morgul Blade in the process. 

Mira had listened to him intently. It was remarkable how such a small being had endured so much in so little time, there was no doubt this was the One Ring. Hobbits never cease to amaze her.

The sky turned dark and ominous. Gandalf’s voice became deeper, there was a strange echo when he spoke. The moment he spoke the first words, Mira got a splitting headache. 

“Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul” (One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them)

Mira shook her head, trying to get rid of the headache. She didn’t want anyone to notice something was wrong, but she recognized the pained expressions from the other Elves. She was not the only one who felt it. 

As soon as Gandalf finished, the sky cleared and so did the headache.

Lord Elrond gasped, definitely not happy with Gandalf’s actions.

“Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris!”

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil!”

Well, he does have a point there, Mira thought to herself. Gandalf had been right, they were on the verge of war. If they had the One Ring, Sauron would do anything to get it back. 

“It is a gift. A gift from the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of my people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!” Boromir demanded. 

“You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master,” the ranger answered him. 

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?” Boromir sneered back. 

At this point, Legolas stood up from his chair. 

“This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.”

“This is Isildur’s heir?” Boromir asked, just as Mira thought the exact same thing.

“And heir to the throne of Gondor,” Legolas countered confidently. 

Mira would say it was more arrogant than confident but maybe she was a bit biased. 

“Havo dad, Legolas,” Aragorn said to him, trying to calm him down. (Sit down) Legolas obeyed, but kept a stern look on Boromir. Mira could tell the tension was building. It wouldn’t take much before they’d start killing each other. She hadn’t missed the angry glances between the Elves and Dwarves. 

“Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king,” Boromir muttered angrily before taking a seat again. His attitude was starting to get on Mira’s nerves. What was it with men and their pride, always wanting to have the last word?

“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it,” Elrond intervened, trying to clear the tension. “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” One of the Dwarves jumped out of his seat and tried to destroy the Ring, shattering his axe in the process. 

Mira chuckled, noticing the stunned expression of the Dwarf upon seeing his ruined axe. She liked this one, he was straightforward and didn’t hesitate. 

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloín, by any craft that we here possess,” Elrond said to him. “The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm of whence it came. One of you must do this.”

He looked around the circle, but there was no reaction. 

Boromir sighed heavily. “One does not simply walk into Mordor.” 

He continued warning everyone about the dangers Mordor held for anyone who dared to cross the Black Gates. Legolas interrupted him, clearly fed up with the man of Gondor. 

“Have you heard nothing of what Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!”

“Well yes, Elf Boy, we all heard that,” Mira muttered silently, rolling her eyes. She knew he would be the only one to hear it. Legolas’ head snapped in her direction, his eyes shooting daggers at her. Before he could say something, Gimli interrupted.

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?” he shouted angrily at Legolas. “I will be dead before I see the ring in the hands of an Elf!”

Mira had to admit that was taking it a bit too far. She might be hiding the fact that she was an Elf, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t proud of being one. The others took this as their cue to start arguing. Even Gandalf and Elrond took part in the fight, which surprised her. She had taken a few steps away from the wall, so she was ready to intervene if necessary. 

The only one who wasn’t participating was Frodo, he was still in his chair seemingly deep in thought. Mira also stayed out of the argument, and kept an eye on everyone in the room. 

All of a sudden Frodo’s eyes focused again and he said, “I will take it!”

Nobody except Gandalf and Mira had heard him. Gandalf closed his eyes in defeat, clearly not happy with the Hobbit’s suggestion.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor,” Frodo repeated, finally getting everyone’s attention. His expression changed once he noticed everyone staring at him, almost looking shy. “Though I do not know the way.”

Gandalf kneeled in front of him, placing his hand on his shoulder. 

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”

Frodo looked very grateful. He should be, Mira thought, it was a very dangerous task and he should accept all the help he could get. She did think it was very brave of him to volunteer. Stupid too. But brave nonetheless. 

In the next few minutes, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir had offered their help as well. Mira couldn’t help but notice Legolas’ smirk when he looked at her. Was he challenging her? 

“Oi! Mister Frodo is not going anywhere without me!” Another Hobbit was coming out of the bushes, rushing towards the group. 

Elrond looked sternly at him, but Mira could see a hint of a smile. 

“No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.”

Mira crossed her arms again, and leaned back against the wall behind her. The group standing before Elrond was a sight to behold. Wizards, Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits, every race was represented. Who would have thought this to be possible?

“Seven companions-”, Elrond started but was interrupted by yet another pair of Hobbits who came running from behind the pillars in the back. 

“Wait! We are coming too!” They rushed to Frodo’s side. Mira smiled, she was certain these Hobbits would give Gandalf a hard, but interesting time during their quest. 

“You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!” one of them said proudly, crossing his arms.

The blond Hobbit wanted to say something smart too, and added, “Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest… thing.”

“Well, that rules you out, Pip,” his friend was quick to answer. Mira snorted. 

Elrond opened his arms. “Nine companions-”

“Lord Elrond, if you please,” Gandalf interrupted him. Mira half expected Elrond to drop his arms at his side and just give up speaking altogether, but his expression didn’t even falter. Impressive.

“I do believe there is someone else who would be wise to join us,” Gandalf spoke, looking directly at Mira. 

Mira’s eyes widened. No, he wouldn’t, would he? She even looked behind her, forgetting she was leaning against a wall, to check if there was a chance he didn’t mean her. 

“Mira, my dear. Don’t keep us waiting,” he said warmly. 

She froze, frantically trying to think of an excuse, any excuse not to join them. 

“A woman?” Boromir laughed. “You can’t be serious! Does she even know how to fight?”

That comment made something stir within her. Wasn’t it enough that Legolas had been acting like he did towards her, and now another man had to doubt her skills?

In less than a split second she had drawn her two knives from her boots and threw them towards Boromir, effectively pinning his cape to the railing of the balcony behind him, without even scratching Legolas and the Hobbits, who were all standing in very close proximity. It did not only show her skills with a knife, but her strength as well since the railing was made out of stone. 

“I can assure you, Boromir, that Mira knows exactly how to defend herself. Best not to get on her bad side,” Gandalf chuckled. Mira stepped towards Boromir and pulled her knives out of the railing, keeping her eyes fixed on Legolas’ the whole time, as if to say “Did you see that?”.

Elrond cleared his throat, opening his arms for the third time. Before he started, he looked at Gandalf, who nodded at him. 

“Ten companions… so be it! You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring!”

A/N: I have a taglist now! Send me an ask if you want to be added!

Taglist Perfect Secrets: @ayo-cowbelly​

[cosmicbug379]

Today, Life is Good

It is 12:26 am, but here I am posting this fic anyway because I’m impatient. Here we go, another Boromir fic but this one is happy! YAY! I did not proofread this, because that is who I am as a person and I should probably get a beta reader or someone to edit these, but here we are. I like this fic. It’s a bit longer, and I have a lot of feelings, but I liked writing this! I hope you guys enjoy it and I hope it’s not too long or too weird or something.

Fandom: Lord of the Rings 

Pairing: Boromir x reader

Words: 2560

Rating: T 

Warnings: mentions of injuries, pretty large portion takes place in the Houses of Healing, but nothing is too crazy graphic, suggestive language, mentions of sex (but no actual smut)

There was a long night ahead of you after the battle that had raged on Pelennor Fields and through the city of Minas Tirith. As a healer, you hadn’t fought in the battle, but now the wounded were coming into the Houses of Healing in droves and you weren’t sure how you would keep up. 

You helped everyone you could, but there were so many wounded, you knew that it would be impossible to save everyone. You worked your way through the soldiers, beginning with the worst of the injuries. There were many you recognized, men of Gondor who had fought for their home. But there were many you didn’t recognize as well. The people of Rohan had arrived to help it seemed, and you were sure you would have lost the battle without them.

You were helping one man with a head injury who told you that an army of the dead had arrived from the river, cutting down all the orcs in their path and even swarming and killing the Mûmakil with ease. You told him that perhaps he hit his head harder than originally thought, but then one of the Riders of Rohan who was close by confirmed the man’s story. He said that a man named Aragorn had left them at Dunharrow and taken the paths of the dead, later arriving at the battle with the Oathbreakers behind him. Part of you had never believed the legends of the army that Isildur had cursed, but if they had won the battle for Minas Tirith, you were glad the legends were true.

You kept working through the night, barely stopping in an effort to help as many people as possible. You heard someone shouting for you and you hurried over to find a man cradling an injured woman. She was hurt badly, she was barely breathing. You learned she was the princess of Rohan and the man cradling her was her older brother. You managed to pry Éomer away from his sister far enough to examine her. You weren’t sure that Éowyn would survive.

“This is beyond my skill to heal,” you said sadly, looking at Éomer. “We need athelas to even begin the healing. This looks like the Black Breath.”

Éomer wailed in anguish and you felt terrible, you had seen similar wounds on men who had come too close to the Nazgûl in the battle at Osgiliath a few days ago when the orcs had taken the city on the river. Those men hadn’t survived.

“I can heal her,” you heard a voice say behind you. 

Turning, you looked up at the man. He didn’t look like much, but you heard Éomer speak to him and say his name. This was Aragorn, the ranger from the north, raised among elves for a time and apparently Isildur’s heir. 

You stood aside and let him take over, rushing off to find some athelas to aid him in healing the woman. When you returned to Aragorn with the needed herb, there was another man standing nearby. You dropped the athelas and stared at him. It couldn’t be.

Boromir was there, standing right in front of you, very much alive despite what you had been told. When you didn’t hand the athelas to Aragorn, all three men looked your way. Aragorn just grabbed the needed plant and kept working, Éomer didn’t seem interested in anything other than his sister, but Boromir looked at you and your world stopped. He was here, standing in front of you. This was all too much. A combination of little sleep or food and the shock of seeing your apparently not dead husband standing in front of you caused you to faint right there in the middle of the Houses of Healing.

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

It wasn’t long before you woke up, and you hadn’t been moved far. Boromir had caught you before you could hit the floor and injure yourself. You sat up, looking around before spotting Boromir speaking to Aragorn next to you.

“This can’t be real,” you whispered.

Boromir looked at you and smiled, “It is real, my love. I promise you that.”

“You’re dead… They found your horn washed up on the banks of the river. Faramir was sure of it, so was your father. We thought we would never see you again.” 

“I am sorry you thought I didn’t survive, but I am very much alive and I would very much like to steal a kiss from my beautiful wife,” his smile grew, and you couldn’t help smiling yourself.

You kissed him then, trying to show him how much you loved him through that kiss. He responded in kind and held you close to him. You felt at home in his arms, you thought you would never feel this way again, thought you would never see him, but he was here and he was holding you.

“I should get back to work,” you whispered. 

“You need to rest. I spoke to Ioreth, she said you haven’t taken a break in far too long. You’re no use if you can’t even stand on your feet,” he said. 

You hesitated, but eventually agreed with him. You were exhausted, there were so many wounded and you had been working nonstop for hours. A small break would be alright. 

You held Boromir's hand tightly, like you were afraid he would disappear if you let go. He led you to a corner of the Houses of Healing that had been set aside for the healers to rest, guiding you to lay on one of the cots. 

"Don't leave," you said, maintaining your death grip on his hand. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he said with a gentle smile. "But I'm afraid if you hold my hand any tighter you may crush it, my love." 

You eased your grip on his hand and laughed quietly.

"I'm sorry, Boromir. I'm just afraid that if I let go of you all those nightmares will be true and you'll be gone. Pippin didn't even tell me that you were alive, I'll have to have some very stern words with him. Though, we barely had a moment to speak, and he's been following Faramir around every moment he got. I did hear him tell your brother that he admired you very much, so it seems both sons of Denethor are good at making friends with Hobbits," you said with a smile. 

"I am very fond of the little ones," he agreed. "I'm surprised Pippin didn't talk to you more, I spoke of you often." 

"I've been here most of the time. I was here when he and Gandalf arrived, but we didn't get a chance to speak. Ever since Faramir came back with the horn… I've been here, avoiding anything that reminded me of you," you squeezed his hand gently. 

"I'm sorry I worried you. The battle at Amon Hen was only 17 days ago, everything happened so quickly I didn't have time to write to you. And I didn't realize my horn would wash up on the shore for Faramir to find." 

“Only 17 days ago? So much has happened since then,” you trailed off then sat up quickly. “Faramir! He was hurt when your father sent him to Osgiliath, I couldn’t help him. It was the Black Breath, just like Éowyn! You must tell your friend to help him!”

Boromir hushed you and pushed you gently until you were laying down again.

“I will tell Aragorn, I promise. Our new king will not let my brother die if he can save him. Now you need to rest, my love.”

You had many questions, but your eyes were so heavy. You drifted off to sleep with Boromir beside you, promising he would explain everything soon.

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

Three days after the Battle of Pelennor Fields you had to watch your husband leave again for Mordor, and you were afraid none of the Host led by Aragorn would return, but they did return, twenty days later and they brought two more Hobbits back with them.

You spent most of your time in the Houses of Healing once again, but this time you watched over Éowyn and Faramir more than anyone else. Aragorn had taught you how to help them, using the athelas and changing their bandages often. They were both almost back to normal, and you found them together more often than not. You were happy for them, they deserved to be happy; they deserved to be in love.

When you heard the horn announcing the arrival of those who had gone to the Black Gates you ran out of the Houses of Healing, sprinting through the city to get to the Citadel before they did. They beat you there, and you stood, searching for Boromir among the many weary faces before you. When you finally did see his face, you called for him before running into his arms.

Boromir caught you with ease, taking a step back to steady himself. He smiled at you and kissed you the moment you were still long enough. You were out of breath from running to find him, but you kissed him back with as much passion as you could muster.

“You’re here,” you sighed. “You came back to me again.”

“I will always come back to you my love,” he whispered into your hair.

You stood together for a long time, holding each other tightly until finally you followed Aragorn and the rest of the Fellowship into the Citadel. There were two new Hobbits with the company, you learned they were Frodo and Sam. Both of them were injured and on the brink of death, you worked alongside Aragorn to nurse them back to health.

Sam was the first to wake, his injuries were not quite so severe and he had not been carrying the Ring for months as Frodo had. Frodo returned to consciousness only a few days after Sam, and you found you very much enjoyed the company of all the Hobbits.

Boromir finally got the chance to apologize to Frodo for trying to take the Ring, and everyone was given the chance to recover from the long journeys they had been a part of. 

You learned many things from Aragorn, and became a better healer. Aragorn was very skilled, and the prophecies of the Heir of Isildur having the hands of a healer were correct. 

When you weren’t in the Houses of Healing you were with Boromir and your new friends. You liked the entirety of the Fellowship, but the Halflings were your favorites. They were wonderful company and Merry and Pippin were always energetic and happy to entertain you. Frodo and Sam were more reserved, but you found their company calming, and you enjoyed having tea with them every day. 

Gimli and Legolas were the strangest pair; an elf and a dwarf who were good friends was unheard of, but you loved them just as dearly as the others. The elf was calm and calculating, but he was also warm and kind and fiercely loyal. The dwarf was much like the few other dwarves you had met; loud and daring, and protective of his friends. 

Gandalf you already knew, and you were glad to see him again and spend time with him. When he would come to Minas Tirith while you were still a child, he spent most of his time with Faramir, who was always eager to learn from him. He was a wise and powerful wizard, even more so now than before.

Most of your time, though, was spent with Boromir. You had missed your husband dearly, and you barely let him out of your sight. He seemed happy enough to spend time with you, never denying you the opportunity and smiling at you every time you asked. Sleeping next to Boromir was a relief; you hadn’t slept so well in months. You felt safe and secure in his arms and that first night he was home you slept the whole night through for the first time since he had left nearly a year ago. 

You opened your eyes slowly, it was early and you were still tired; Boromir hadn’t let you get much sleep the night before. You felt his arm resting across your stomach and you turned to smile and watch him sleep a little longer. He had a slight smile on his lips, and you wondered what he was dreaming about. 

“I can feel you staring, my love,” he mumbled, his smile growing.

“I can’t help it,” you replied. “You’re very handsome, you know.”

“So you tell me,” he said, opening his blue eyes. 

“I’m right. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“I believe you.”

You smiled at him and kissed him deeply, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“Must we get out of bed today?” you asked sadly.

“I’m afraid that today it is very important we get out of bed, and soon. Aragorn’s coronation is today and it would reflect poorly on us if we were not in attendance,” he said, kissing your forehead.

You sighed heavily; you knew he was right, but you would much rather stay in bed with him all day. 

“Tomorrow we can stay in bed all day, I promise,” he said, as if he had been reading your mind.

“I suppose I can wait until tomorrow then,” you sighed. 

The coronation was a lovely affair; Aragorn was reunited with his love, Arwen, and all your new friends were there. Faramir announced his intention to marry Éowyn and they looked like they couldn’t be happier, in fact, Faramir looked happier than you had ever seen him. 

“Did we look so sickeningly happy when we announced our engagement?” Boromir whispered in your ear so his brother did not hear him.

“I’m sure we did,” you told him with a smile.

“Well I’m happy for them. I’m surprised it took so long if they were as close as you say in the Houses of Healing. We returned from the Black Gates over a month ago.”

“Well it probably took that long to convince her brother to allow it,” you said with a laugh. “Éomer still doesn’t look like he wants this to happen.”

“I suppose you’re right. It took nearly a year for me to convince your father to allow me to marry you,” he recalled.

“I remember,” you teased. “You asked him every day and when I finally found out you were asking I begged him to say yes. Finally he got so sick of both of us asking every day he agreed to allow it. I’m so happy he did; I’m so happy I’m married to you”

“I’m happy too, my love,” he smiled, pulling you closer. “And I’m even happier to be home with you. The world is finally going to know some peace, and we can be happy.” You nodded and pulled him into a corner to kiss him deeply. Boromir complied happily and pressed himself closer to you. 

“Perhaps, we could retire to our chambers early,” he whispered. “We could start trying to have children like we talked about before I left?”

“I don’t think Aragorn and Arwen will mind,” you smiled, taking his hand. 

The two of you laughed together, racing towards your rooms like two newlyweds; so in love with each other that no one else seemed to matter. 

Tags: @rzrcrst​ @opheliaelysia​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @hdlynn​ if anyone else wants to be tagged in any future LotR fics message me or send me an ask or something, I will happily add you! Or if you don’t want to be tagged let me know that too! 

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 6

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 6

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes: So, I have finished the Silmarillion, and may I just say, wow. I have a whole new understanding of Middle-Earth. It's amazing and inspiring. I do miss Maedhros and Maglor already though... Now, I've finished Beren and Luthien and started The Children of Hurin next in my quest to read every book on Middle-Earth that there is, written, of course, by the Tolkiens.

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

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

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

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

Instead of Blue-Eyes meeting you by Starlight, it was Erestor, instead. Aside from the one time you'd spoken to him with Haldir, asking him about other continents (Which, it turned out, you'd misunderstood. Beleriand had sunk, and so had Numenor and Tol Eressea, and no one but the Eldar could reach Aman anymore.), you hadn't spoken to him.

He was an older Elf, kind of intimidating, with a bird-like demeanor and an expression that said Don't fuck with me.

So yeah, you were kinda surprised.

Still, you bowed in the Elvish fashion. "Len Suilon, Erestor. Ci maer?"

"Suilad. Ni maer, [Y/N]," He assured nonchalantly. "A gin?"

"Ni maer eithro." You looked around nervously, hoping Blue-Eyes would pop out of nowhere and save you from a further conversation in what would probably be your poor Sindarin with an age-old Elf. "So, her majesty chose me for this scouting mission, eh?"

"Indeed," Erestor inclined his head. "Your Elvish improves, if slowly. You do not hesitate in your greetings anymore."

"Thank you, sir."

"Come, and lead Starlight along," Said Erestor unfairly regally, and sailed majestically away. "Have you been practicing your swordplay diligently? You may need it."

You nodded as you followed him. "Yes sir. Legolas, Elros, and Lindir have made sure that they split my day into learning Sindarin, weaponry, and even the general Elvish way of being Elvish." You tried not to sound irritated about that. They literally never gave you any free time. Not that you'd brought any books to read, and not that you could read any Elvish, but that wasn't the point.

"Good," Erestor nodded. "What are your strong suits?"

Ah, shit. "Uhm... I can throw a dagger pretty hard? I can probably shoot somebody dead if I'm point blank, but other than that, my aim sucks. I'm somewhat okay with a sword, though, and I prefer two. Why?"

"Curious," Erestor replied all mysteriously, and that was all he said on the matter.

The Elves chosen for the scouting mission-- the Elvenqueen herself, with Blue-Eyes, Haldir, and Elros-- were gathered and speaking amongst themselves, while Thorin and Dwalin next to their very dignified ponies glowered at them. Balin was feeding his own pony an apple, muttering to it kindly. Compared to the Elves, who were naturally tall and lithe, the short and stocky dwarves looked outrageously tiny.

"Ah," The Elvenqueen's attention was on you faster than a supersonic jet's. "You have arrived."

You bowed deeply. "Your majesty." To Haldir, and even to Legolas just to be safe from potential Elvenqueen-wrath-2.0, you added, "My Lords." You turned to Erestor. "I'm sorry I didn't greet you with the title, I forgot what ‘my lord’ is in Elvish."

To your surprise, the Elves chuckled. Except for the Elvenqueen, of course. "You need not worry yourself, mellonenin," Elros assured you. "You are still learning."

The Elvenqueen inclined her head. "We leave at once, if all are ready."

There were positive responses throughout, and everyone present mounted up. You caught sight of Lindir coming out of his tent for the morning, and waved; he looked confused, but awkwardly repeated your gesture. "What on Arda are you doing?" Blue-Eyes asked under his breath, like you were embarrassing him.

You snickered. "It's like a 'hi' and 'bye' gesture for when you're out of earshot of someone you know. It's called ‘waving’. Everyone does it where I come from."

"This is not your world, [Y/N]," The Elvenqueen reprimanded firmly. You fought the urge to shrink in on yourself. "If you are going to be a part of it and learn our ways, then you must do so faithfully, leaving everything you know of your world behind you. Your land is nothing but a poison, and I do not want it infecting Middle-Earth. Am I understood?"

"Y-yes ma'am-- your majesty, yes your majesty."

"Good," Said the Elvenqueen, and then she continued giving orders in Elvish, while Thorin purposefully repeated them in dwarvish for Balin and Dwalin, though everyone present spoke fluent English-- Common. For you, Blue-Eyes translated what he could before he was called up to ride beside his mother, so then Elros and Haldir took turns explaining. The whole event left you feeling like a fish out of water.

***

It was around noon when the company halted, which Thorin and Dwalin had been leading on foot, while Balin kept their ponies tied to his own. At first, you assumed, lunch, finally, I'm starving, but instead, you'd stopped because Thorin had found a trail. "Orcs," He said.

Duh, you felt like saying, what else would it be? Bigfoot?

But after the Elvenqueen's earlier lecture, you kept that to yourself.

"Which way do they lead, master dwarf?" The Elvenqueen demanded.

Thorin huffed as he stood. "They go north, but they are heavy from travel. Wherever they came from, it is not from anywhere near the northern borders of Mirkwood or Erebor."

"Where else would they come from?" You blurted out before you could stop yourself. "Are there like orcish towns in the north or something? Maybe we could--”

"There is no such thing," The Elvenqueen snapped.

"The wargs that I had tracked were from Gundabad," Blue-Eyes said calmly, as if that hadn't ever been important information before. "The ones that attacked us on the river, however, were from Mordor."

You leaned over to Haldir as Blue-Eyes continued to speculate. "I'm confused. What's the difference?"

"Gundabad wargs are darker, lithe, and more agile," Haldir told you quietly. "They are more viscous, as well. A Mordor warg is more... Stout, I suppose you could say, and slightly lighter in color."

There was a flash of color before your eyes. Suddenly, you felt as if you were in a clearing of trees, surrounded by people in dark colors, while the sound of howls filled the air, unlike the ones you'd heard before.

These are Gundabad wargs! They will outrun you!

These are Rusteveld rabbits! I'd like to see them try.

You shook your head as you resituated yourself in the saddle. Well, that was sudden... It had been quite a few days since any of the strangely-familiar visions had come to you. You came back to your senses as Dwalin laughed uproarously. "Well, that settles it, then! To Gundabad!"

"Wait just a moment," The Elvenqueen said. "We are not all brash, Master Dwalin. We will go back and retrieve more forces before even thinking of going near Gundabad." With that, she turned her silver mare around and began trotting back, Haldir and Erestor on either side of her. Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin hung back, taking their time getting on their ponies and following after.

"Where's Gundabad?" You asked Legolas quietly; not that it did any good. Elves could hear grass growing on the other side of the continent if they wanted to. "And what is it?"

"It is northwest of here, in a cleft between the mountains," He answered. "It is an old fortress, from the time when the Dunedain first came to Middle-Earth from Numenor, if you remember." You nodded; he'd told you the entire story of the Silmarils and anything that went with it or after. "It was the gate that lead to the Witch-Kingdom of Angmar."

"Lead by the Witch-King..." You finished for him automatically. An eerie echo of a voice filled your mind: No man can kill me. At his impressed look, you scrunched up your face. "And what are you, French? How'd you make that 'h' sound in the middle of the damn word?!" You realized what you said only after you'd said it, and quickly looked to the Elvenqueen to see if she'd heard. If she had, she made no sign of it. "Sorry."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "It is fine, Sairen, you can speak to me of your world, don't worry." With a cocky smile, he looked down at you smugly. "As for the pronunciation... You will learn to do it soon."

Back at camp, a group of Elves was already up and waiting to move out, and at the Elvenqueen's ringing voice, they followed after, and you all retraced your steps back to where Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin had found the orc tracks. You considered it pointless-- they could've just taken the host of a couple dozen Elves with them that way they didn't have to retrace their steps.

Partway there, you decided that goddamn song that'd been going through your head needed a damn good explanation. Unfortunately, Blue-Eyes was now up by his mother, leaving you between two totally random Elves. You'd never been good at starting up a conversation, but you decided to give it a try anyway. "...Hey, do either of you speak Common?"

Both Elves busted out laughing as if you'd made a hilarious joke about dwarves.

"Most Eldar can speak Common," The one on the right said, removing his helmet to look at you more clearly. Whoa. You practically fell off Starlight. He was beautiful. He had long, purely golden hair that fell down his back in unfairly glorious waves. He had soft blue eyes (Not as gorgeous as Blue-Eyes', but still.) and a fair face. "It would be considered quite odd, in our long lives, if one did not learn the tongues of others."

You just stared at him. "Dude. Are you like, made of gold?"

He laughed, which sounded a lot like something naturelike and unfairly beautiful. You'd never heard any of the Elves outright laugh, so this was a weird, new experience for you. "I have been asked many things, but that is new. No, I am just as flesh and bone as you are."

"Yeah, but yours are like, plated in gold, so, you're... Wow."

He laughed again. "What is your name, mellon?"

"[Y/N.]," You replied, in a daze, then leaned over quick to the Elf on your left, who tensed and tried to lead his horse away. "Do you even see this guy?!"

You turned back to Goldie. "A gin?"

As best as he could in the saddle, the Elf placed his right arm over his chest and bowed at the waist. "I am called Glorfindel. Gellon len covad!"

"Mae l'ovannen!" You said in response.

Glorfindel smiled at you. "What was your question, mellonenin?"

"Well thanks to you and your blinding gold-ness, I forgot. Give me a minute." You thought for a second, trying to ignore the literally glowing Elf beside you. "Ah! That's it. I asked if you could speak Common so you'd understand my question. You guys have songs, right?"

Glorfindel gave you a look like you'd just told him his hair looked like an orc's. "Of course we have songs! Many, many songs! They are as timeless as we are, and we, all of us, are taught these songs from a very young age. Did you wish to learn them?"

You shook your head. "Nah. I've never been good at singing." If I sang all you Elves would shatter like a glass in an opera-room. "When I got puffed here, a song started going through my head. I can never remember all of it. Just bits and pieces here and there. But it's really bugging me. So if I told you all I could remember, think you could remember one from your Elvish past?"

Glorfindel inclined his head. "I shall answer to the best of my ability."

"Okay," You wracked your brain for the lyrics. "Okay, uh... Something about leaving home, and fading... Lots of fading. The one sentence I can always clearly remember is 'all shall fade.'" You looked at him curiously. "That ringin’ any bells?"

Glorfindel thought hard. "If by that you mean if I can remember anything similar, I cannot. If it is a song of Arda, it is not one I know, and I can remember most Eldar songs."

That caused a lightbulb to appear above your head. You gasped, wide-eyed.

"Wait! You're Glorfindel?! As in, the Glorfindel?! The guy in Gondolin who tried to protect Turgon by fighting the Balrog?!"

"Ah, Turgon... He was a good friend."

"And when it fell it grabbed your hair?!"

Glorfindel flinched. "Can we not mention that...?"

"And then you came back to life to fight Sauron?!"

"Yes--"

"The guy who was in love with Ecthelion of the Fountain?!"

Glorfindel flushed, his face going a deep shade of un-Elvish red-- on him, though, it was more of a rose-gold... "Yes, I am that Glorfindel, and I would advise you hush before you draw the attention of the Elvenqueen."

Nervously, you glanced ahead, to where the Elvenqueen sat regally upon her horse. If she or Leggy had heard you, neither of them made any indication of it. With a giddy smile, you looked back to Glory. "This is so cool. Where I'm from, you rarely ever meet anybody so important. Now I've met some of the most important people of Middle-Earth! Ooh, am I also gonna get to meet the king of Gondor?!"

Glorfindel looked confused, but amused. "Gondor has no king, and has not for many, many years. Not since the death of Isildur. Now, the stewards of Gondor keep watch over the city and uphold its laws, and await for the heir to the Gondorian royalty to show himself."

"Or herself," You specified, fighting a wince as you heard a voice echo, Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Hardly ever is a mortal woman given any sort of royal duties alone. She would have to marry someone of high standing to be considered queen."

You scoffed. "Great. So the humans of Middle-Earth are assholes, too. Figured I'd escape from that."

"The race of Man is a fickle one," Glorfindel agreed. "More often than not, they are the cause of most grief in the world." He smiled. "But worry not! You are of the Eldar now, and are not subject to their torments."

You shrugged. "Good point..." You beamed excitedly at him. "Tell me about your adventures!"

He did, until the Elvenqueen gave the signal to dismount and to keep silent. You'd been so into Glorfindel's stories that you hadn't noticed that the trees had thinned out, giving way to loose, rusty-brown soil and rocky slopes. All of the Elves sailed silently over the rocks, while the dwarves trampled noisily.

For days (Which passed like extremely-long hours, and you weren't even hungry or thirsty or tired.), the procession trekked through the hills without any audible communication, until the huge hills rose up to your left and in the north into jagged mountains. You kept going, and going, and really wondered how any of the Elves that'd been left could possibly reach any of you for backup if needed in time.

On what was about noon of the week and a half mark, you came to an overlook that spread down beneath you into a huge, rocky valley, dry and desolate. There was no sign of life, and further still, about a couple days away by foot, was another tall, jagged outcropping overlooking a massive structure of bronze. Small black dots which you were going to assume were birds flitted about the top of it, and it stretched what looked like hundreds of feet into the air. You were astonished.

"We came all this way for rocky dirt and an old tower. I don't see any signs of life there." You kept your voice at a whisper, like some of the other Elves who'd began talking amongst themselves.

Blue-Eyes eyed the tower warily. "You're not supposed to."

You turned to watch him walk away. "Then what?" Blue-Eyes gave the Elves some order in Elvish, and you continued. "So we came all this way to see that it really doesn't look like there's orcs there but really, there are, so, what do we do? They've obviously got a shit ton of more orcs behind there. We're probably way outnumbered. So what do we do?"

"We," He replied, "Are going to do just what we came here to do. We're going to scout, by getting as close as we can and seeing what we can. Then we leave. It's as simple as that. If, however, we're ambushed, the rest of the procession has been following us slowly. They're only a couple of hours behind."

You frowned. You must not've gotten that memo because everybody felt the need to speak highly advanced Elvish when you only knew a couple ways to say "hi." "So what do we do if we see something we don't like? Attack?"

"If we can," Blue-Eyes told you, "But it most likely will not come to that. We simply came to see if they have larger numbers than those few who attacked us at the river."

You gave him an incredulous look with an eyebrow raised nearly to your hairline. "...Few?"

He scoffed, and walked off, giving orders in Sindarin that you only caught a word or two of. You were watching him with a glower, when you noticed Lindir sidling up on your right smugly. "...Do you not wish that you know what he is saying?"

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Ugh, Lindy, geez, can you read my goddamn mind?" You turned to mock-glare at him; he was preening. "Well? What was he saying?"

Lindir laughed and wagged a finger at you-- so Elvish. "No no no no no, mellon, I will not make it that easy for you. If you wish to know exactly what he said, then you will have to continue learning from your current point."

Your shoulders slumped. "Really? Damn. Fine, I guess, since it looks like we're camping here." And it did. Practically everyone was going around setting up bedrolls, but you seen no sign of a fire. "Glad it's warm-ish. What, we just supposed to freeze?"

Lindir gestured to Gundabad. "If we light a fire, they will see us, and our stealth will be for naught."

You gave him an odd look. "...What?"

Lindir blinked. "If they see us, our stealth will be for naught."

You stared at him blankly. "...Naught?"

Lindir suddenly looked panicked. "Do they not have that word on your world? It means the same as nothing, in this context."

You scoffed with a cocky smirk. "I know what it means. You Elves are just so damn fancy." You reached over and ruffled his strangely-perfect brown hair, to which he yelped and yanked away from you as if you'd tried to stab him. You left your hand in the air where his head had been, wide-eyed, as Lindir stared at you in shock. "Uhh... Got a sensitive spot on your head there?"

Lindir narrowed his eyes at you. "I should teach you Eldar custom as well. No Elf touches another's hair, for whatever reason, unless it is necessary, which is more than likely never to happen. Braiding and touching another's hair is considered something only for the wedded to do."

You yanked your hand away from where his head had been. "Sorry. I didn't know. Where I come from, that whole hair-ruffle thing is used between siblings or friends."

Lindir smiled softly, straightening his hair. "It is fine, [Y/N.]. You had no way of knowing. But, now I realize I must teach you language and customs-- or perhaps Elros can do that..."

You snickered to yourself, earning an odd look from the Elf. You shrugged. "Nothin', just, I've got specific Elvish teachers now. You're my language teacher, Elros is now customs, Legolas is history, and Glorfindel is music. I'm gonna be a true Elf before I know it."

"Maybe never a true Elf," Lindir laughed, "But close enough!"

You laughed with him, but on the inside, winced. You doubted if he meant it as an insult, but it hit you like one. No, you'd never been considered good enough to be a true anything, especially an Elf of all creatures, who were naturally shiny and glowy and perfect and shit. But still, for someone to confirm it, even in a joking manner, that you'd never be good enough to be a true Elf...

It really hurt.

You acted all casual on the outside throughout the rest of the evening, laughing and joking when needed, but internally, you were fighting a dull ache in your chest. You'd gotten it a few times before-- rarely, but still-- and you knew exactly what it was. The desire to fit in. You'd never had a chance on Earth. But here, you'd hoped to at least be considered a part of their realm.

Dammit, why am I so sensitive?! He didn't mean anything by it!

But what were you really doing here? Struggling to prove yourself to a race that would never accept you. To all Elves, you'd be considered an imposter, like Thorin had said. You knew for a fact you'd never be good around "the race of Man," as they put it, and even in this world, you knew you'd never fit in with them, either. At best, the Men would see you only as a rebel Elf trying to fit into the society of Man. Dwarves? Hell no. What about the Hobbit-folk? Maybe you'd at least be considered a friend to them? No, you were an Elf here. They'd be wary of you, maybe even fearful.

Maybe you should just settle for traveling like a vagabond, like Gandalf does. When everyone else was resting, you stayed by Starlight. You scratched underneath of his chin, and he rested his snout on your inner elbow, allowing you to rest your head on his, staring into his eyes and putting off a feeling of calm. "You accept me for who I am, right?"

Starlight's ears were pricked toward you, so at least he was listening. His only response was a blink. You sighed, closing your eyes. You didn't even have the security of him. One day, he'd grow old and pass away, while you lived on for eons. Carefully, so as not to spook him, you reached up and scratched behind his ears.

"Mellonenin?" Said a voice behind you. You turned to see Legolas, looking concerned. He glanced back over his shoulder, to where the rest of the Elves talked amongst themselves, even conversating a little with the dwarves. "What are you doing out here?"

You gave him a smug look. "What's this I hear, Blue-Eyes? Showing concern for me?"

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Hardly. Just curious."

You shrugged, going back to loving on Starlight. "Everybody seemed to be doing good without me. Lindir and Elros said my lessons on custom and language were done for the day, so I figured I'd spend some time with Star."

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "I will never understand your shortening of names..." He fixed you with an expression that you couldn't quite read. "...Are you nervous about a potential battle, Sairen?"

You shrugged. "Hack'n'slash. Can't be that hard. I have played video games, y'know, and I did get here through a LARP event." You shot him a cocky grin. "I think I can handle myself. Always have."

Blue-Eyes smiled softly. "Well... I am certain you will surpass my father's standards. I have no doubt of it."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest. Your cheeks flushed. "Thanks. That really... That really means a lot, for you to be sure of me."

Blue-Eyes hummed thoughtfully, smoothing down Starlight's pitch mane. "Your world did not appreciate you as it should have. You are a kind person, Sairen, and while at times you are eccentric, that only adds to your persona. I know that I can put my full trust in you anytime, and not be disappointed." He smiled at you. "I am glad to know you, mellon. I feel as if you were meant to be here."

For a minute, you both just stared at each other with smiles on your faces, while you felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Any upset feelings from earlier completely burned away. His pale gold hair looked white in the moonlight. Fuck, I will not cry. I will not. Not at all. Definitely not even having to try... You finally blushed and looked away, busying yourself with straightening Starlight's forelock, though the smile remained on your face.

"Damn, Blue-Eyes. You're making me blush." He laughed, and you added, "But... I'm really glad I know you too, Leggy. You've been nice to me, and actually believe in me..." You smirked at him. "That's rare for me. Thank you."

He looked almost appalled. "You do not need to thank me for taking a liking to you, Sairen. It is not as if it is a chore." Suddenly making up his mind about something, he drew his shoulders back. "Would you like to go for a ride together?"

You beamed at him. "Duh! It's a horse, of course I wanna go for a ride!"

Blue-Eyes laughed. "Come on, then, let's go. Stay close to me; we will be going in the opposite direction of Gundabad, but orcs could still roam these wilds."

You nodded as you mounted Starlight, grinning stupidly down at the stupidly perfect Elf who smiled at you. "Got it. Let's go!"

Your heart was pounding dangerously as the two of you trotted off away from camp, talking about the history of Middle-Earth, as you tried to keep from staring outright at Legolas. As your heart faltered, looking at him smiling at you as the moonlight hit his hair, you realized something...

Shit.

Tag List:

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[sweetteaanddragons]

9, 33, 42?

I had a hard time with this one, I think because I’ve technically done it before in my “Not All Stories” series from archiveofourown, and I couldn’t get that ‘verse out of my head. Finally I decided there was no use fighting it and just fit this into that ‘verse. You shouldn’t have to read anything from that to understand this, or at least I tried very hard to include all necessary information. I’ve included the basic premise below, just in case, and if anyone has any questions please let me know!

What you need to know for this fic: When Aragorn’s still a child at Rivendell, there’s an unfortunate incident in which a terrible misunderstanding leads to the elves accidentally killing some innocents. Some Rangers are also killed when their attempt to peacefully intervene failed. While this has wide rippling effects on the world around them, the Ring is still eventually brought to everyone’s attention, and a Council gathers to discuss it, though there’s a slightly different fellowship formed than before.

Now to delve into one of those effects:

Even three weeks after receiving the news, Imladris still simmered with tension. 

It had been two Ages of the world since the Elves had bloodied their swords and then been forced to admit they had done wrong in doing so. None liked being connected to it, whether they’d been on the fateful expedition or not.

Elladan still wasn’t entirely sure of exactly what had occurred. Those who had been at the battle were still confined, and as of yet his father had not seen fit to confide the particulars to him or Elrohir. All he had to go on were the increasingly improbable whispers and a few precious facts.

Fact: He had not seen Ada this grieved since Mother had left these shores.

Fact: Blood had been shed that should not have been.

Fact: Some of that blood was that of the Dunedain, a fact that had him stealing little Estel away from his mother and tutors at every opportunity. Only with that small body clinging safely to his back, still only starting to grow into its full potential, could he really trust that this latest cousin was still with them.

He did not yet know which of his foster-brother’s kin had fallen. Elrohir was hunting down the names assiduously, and Elladan dreaded what he would find. Which men that they had rode with, fought with, bled with, had found death at what should have been friendly swords?

He was used to losing mortal friends to violent deaths.

He was not used to this.

Estel tugged at his tunic. “Look, look!”

Elladan looked out over the balcony and down to the courtyard. Four of the Dunedain had come riding in, looking even more grim than usual.

“Will we greet them?” Estel asked, practically bouncing with excitement at the new visitors. He alone was not troubled by the tension in Imladris. They’d kept it from him as best they could.

Elladan hesitated. These were not the men that were usually sent to Imladris to bring reports and receive supplies. The Dunedain were careful who they sent, so that only a few knew where their young chieftain was hidden. The change was easy enough to explain, though it twisted his stomach. If these men were here, he doubted the usual party had come out of the battle alive. Still, it would be incautious . . . 

“I had best greet them alone,” he said reluctantly. “But perhaps you can speak to them at supper tonight.” Once he was entirely certain all was well, though he had no more than a vague shadow of a thought why it should not be. “Run back to your mother, Estel.”

He wanted to take the boy himself, but he didn’t dare take the time. After what had occurred, no courtesy could be spared to welcome these men, though no courtesy could possibly make amends.

And what trouble could possibly come to Estel here?

He cursed that thought bitterly in the days to come.

Estel was gone. Vanished along with his mother and those of the Dunedain that had come.

He and Elrohir had hoped, prayed, that perhaps the Dunedain had just removed them.

But the tracks led east and south before they vanished entirely, as if some great winged creature had swept down and carried the travelers away.

Elladan had seen one of the Nazgul once, from a distance. He tried not to imagine little Estel swept up in one of their mount’s claws, caught in the unimaginable terror of its breath. Tried not to think of Lady Gilraen caught up likewise, her face caught in the same rictus of pain as his mother - 

Or worse, discarded unnoticed somewhere along the road.

He did very poorly at not imagining.

“We go onward,” Elrohir said grimly. “We know their direction.”

Elladan didn’t argue. Onward they went, to the very edge of Mordor.

A sign, Elladan begged the Valar. One sign. One hint as to direction.

As to where even now his cousin, his brother, was being tormented by whatever remained of Sauron. As to what route they could take, what desperate hope they could grasp -

They lingered for a week, pressing inward, searching round. Neither wanted to be the first to admit that there was no hope, in any sense of the word.

They dreamed of Imladris, covered in a shadow, drowning in grief. Three nights they dreamed, in all particulars alike for both.

It was the only sign they received. 

“They want us to turn back,” Elrohir finally said. His voice cracked as he did.

We cannot, he wanted to shout. We must not.

Then he thought of that tide of grief and wondered what their father must think after so long with no word.

His father was strong, he knew, he’d had to be to survive three ages of the world, but even strength had its limits. If he and Elrohir did not return . . . 

One sign, he prayed again. Pleaded again. One sign and I will brave the very heart of Mordor if you ask it, just do not ask this. At least tell us where to find his bones.

But there was nothing.

When at last he nodded to his brother and allowed his horse to turn home, he understood fully for the first time how grief could drive Elves west.

The Rangers grew scarcer and scarcer, only rarely allowing themselves to be seen.

The grief grew ever greater in his father’s eyes. Elladan saw it in his brother’s too. 

In the mirror, he saw it in his own.

(That the Rangers might no longer trust them, they had considered; that the Rangers might simply have reclaimed their chief, they had hoped. All such hope had been lost at the trail’s end, when fear of the Nazguls’ mounts had swept all other thought away.

It did not occur to either of the twins that Gandalf was not the only one to ever have done a favor for the eagles, or that the Ranger who had done so once would be desperate enough to call in the favor then. They were not used to thinking of themselves as something that Men fled from.)

The Ring was yet more grief after long hard years of it.

And yet Elladan counted it worth it for there, against all hope, was hope himself.

“Estel,” Elrohir breathed, and there he was, a Ranger grown, so far from the child that had once tugged on their tunics and begged for tales.

The joy on Ada’s face surpassed anything Elladan had seen since they’d lost him.

Naturally, the first thing Estel did after his identity was revealed was volunteer for a quest to the very place they’d feared him lost to and on which he would almost certainly die.

If Elladan had not already been allowed to join the quest along with his brother, he would have demanded a place then. He didn’t care how long Estel had been surviving on his own.

He was still the youngest family member, and now that they had him back, Elladan refused to let him out of his sight.

[garden-ghoul]

return of the blog, part 9

“I don’t want to stop thinking about the space opera version of the legendarium...”

THE FIELD OF CORMALLEN

The moment Sauron gets distracted and begins to doubt himself, every single one of his solders feels the hand lighten up on the back of their neck and goes “oh fuck, what am I doing?” WAIT. SO THE WAY SAURON KEEPS HIS SOLDIERS FROM DESERTING IS CONSTANTLY MIND CONTROLLING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM? No, no, that probably only works when they’re all gathered together like this. Still, that’s a hell of a thing to be able to do. Think of all the stuff he could get done if he stopped spending 500% of his energy breathing down everyone’s necks!

Orodruin wheezes out a huge puff of black smoke. It’s Sauron, probably, or at least a metaphor for Sauron. He reaches out a threatening hand, but gets blown away by the wind before he can touch the Western Alliance. The people whose wills he enslaved are so confused that they start running around knocking into each other, tripping on their swords and dying, killing each other, they just do not know what is going on and it has massive casualties. A few of the humans who actually do hate the West hunker down and prepare to fight, but everyone else is running around like headless chickens. Gandalf asks Gwaihir to come fly him to Orodruin. Gwaihir is like “bro I am always here for you, I love you so much.” It’s very sweet and I want to hear more about their relationship.

Very jarringly, without so much as a section break (at least in my bootleg online copy) Frodo repeats his line from the end of last chapter, and then goes on to say some more extremely depressing things. Sam insists on walking a ways down the mountain, because what else are they going to do? But they fetch up in front of a huge pyroclastic flow so, no dice. Just as the eagles spot them, they both pass out. I really like how they each need an entire eagle to carry them, even though they are about a hundred pounds each probably, and I previously assumed these were giant eagles. Maybe they are... eagles that are only slightly larger than normal earth eagles?? Like, a condor and a half. Huge birds, but still of earthly proportion. Love it.

On April 8th, Sam wakes up again, and thinks he’s dreaming. This is nice and all, but they were literally starving when they were last awake several weeks ago (March 25th, Gandalf helpfully reminds us, which has now been declared new year’s day in Gondor). Unless someone invented intravenous feeding tubes while I wasn’t looking, they should be dead.

No. uh. ~~magic!~~

They walk outside (they’re in Ithilien, but Aragorn seems to be having his coronation here anyway? rather than in Minas Tirith?) and a bunch of people are shouting “PRAISE THE HOBBITS! PRAISE THEM WITH GREAT PRAISE! SAM AND FRODO HIP HIP HOORAY!” Which is extremely embarrassing. Even Aragorn, the guy of the day, takes their hands and shouts “PRAISE THEM WITH GREAT PRAISE!” This is starting to feel a little bit like a weird horror story, like where you wake up and the world has been altered in some way and everyone is acting Off and nobody will explain anything and it’s upsetting.

Sam, however, is just happy that someone wrote a song about Frodo.

They talk with everyone and feast and stuff for the whole day. Also apparently it’s Aragorn who kept them alive with his ~healing True King hands~. This still explains nothing. And I guess on May Day Aragorn is returning to Minas Tirith, for symbolism reasons. Waves a tiny flag apathetically. This was a very dull chapter because everything was summarized instead of told properly; we were supposed to feel happy, but it was like dutifully chewing kale. Except worse because I’m actually quite fond of kale. I can’t think of anything chewy. Gristle?

THE STEWARD AND THE KING

Heyyyyyy sounds like we’re gonna hear about Faramir! Fingers crossed for gay shit.

Eowyn is running around out of her bed when she shouldn’t be, because she’s as strong as a horse and bored bored bored. She picks a minor fight with the chief healer for saying maybe wars are bad and demands to know if there are any deeds to do. Gah I love her. Finally the healer, exasperated, takes her to the steward of the city so she can pester him instead. “Do not misunderstand him, lord,” says Éowyn. “It is not lack of care that grieves me. No houses could be fairer, for those who desire to be healed. But I cannot lie in sloth, idle, caged. I looked for death in battle. But I have not died, and battle still goes on."

Ugh. Eowyn is pulling a real Marius Pontmercy here.

“Make the healers let me go,” she says. 

“Have you considered... maybe they know what they’re doing?” says Faramir. 

“I WANT... TO GO TO BATTLE. I want to be like my father! Honorable and dead!” Okay why is Eowyn so set on being dead. I’m not entirely sure where this characterization is coming from. Has she always been lowkey suicidal and it just looked like she wanted to do glorious deeds? She sort of gives in eventually and accepts that this battle is already too far away for her to join in. Faramir doesn’t want her to be bored and antsy, so he asks her to hang out with him while they’re both healing. He also tells her she’s beautiful, and she’s like “Uhhhh sorry I’m too butch for this.” And leaves.

Faramir hunts down Merry to question him about Eowyn, and they loiter in the garden hopefully waiting for her to show up. She doesn’t. She does come later, and they start hanging out a lot. He gives her a super nice coat that his mom (Finduilas of Amroth!) used to own. Eowyn keeps looking toward Mordor and sighing and saying “When will he come back??” And it’s clear she’s utterly oblivious to Faramir’s gentle flirting. But she does hold hands with him without either of them noticing, so ???

AH. Faramir also makes a Numenor comparison as great plumes of smoke rise up from Mordor:

It seemed to them that above the ridges of the distant mountains another vast mountain of darkness rose, towering up like a wave that should engulf the world, and about it lightnings flickered; and then a tremor ran through the earth, and they felt the walls of the City quiver. A sound like a sigh went up from all the lands about them; and their hearts beat suddenly again.

‘It reminds me of Númenor,’ said Faramir. “The land of Westernesse that foundered and of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness unescapable. I often dream of it.’

Ugh I don’t even care about Hamilton but I think so much about that line that’s like “I imagine death so often it feels more like a memory.” It’s both how I feel about Faramir, and clearly how Faramir himself feels.

Just then an eagle flies by the city, singing the news. This is so goofy compared to Faramir’s congenital solemnity. Oh this is good though. After he takes up stewardship of the city Eowyn has an Angst. Faramir tries to be oblique about asking if she likes him, but she makes him come out and say it.

‘Éowyn, do you not love me, or will you not?’

‘I wished to be loved by another,’ she answered. ‘But I desire no man’s pity.’

I’m gay? oh haha,

'As a great captain may to a young soldier he seemed to you admirable. For so he is, a lord among men, the greatest that now is. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle.’

Haha yes gogol was right

'Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you.’

“I would love you even if you were happy” is such a fucked up thing to have to say, honestly. BUT, “I love you for doing great deeds and this is not a pity-date” is exactly what Eowyn wants to hear, probably.

‘I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.’

Wait

I mean. This is a great thing, not killing people, and I have always associated becoming trans with putting down one’s sword, but this feels like. “oh finally she can be a real woman.” So Johnald thinks, but in fact Eowyn is trans and wants to be a gentleman/gentle man. So I’m putting my grubby queer fingers all over this and saying it’s really good that Eowyn is associating masculinity with peace and healing and growth.

Faramir asks Eowyn to marry him and she says,

‘Then must I leave my own people, man of Gondor? And would you have your proud folk say of you: “There goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Númenor to choose?”’

For some dumb reason he interprets this as her being worried about his reputation, rather than her being worried about being asked to leave her entire family behind and be an item of curiosity as long as she lives in Gondor??

And then he kisses her. Ugh.

After this Aragorn and co come back, and Aragorn does a bunch of symbolic junk with symbols of office. He pardons everyone. The city is full of flowers and babies to kiss. Faramir becomes the prince of Ithilien. Eowyn goes home to Rohan to rebuild, but says she’ll come back when she can finally bring Theoden back and put him at rest in Rohan. That’s some good shit. Also Aragorn finds a Nimloth sapling just sort of hanging out on the mountain. Gandalf points at it and Aragorn is like “oh” 

“guess I’ll take this home then”

Then Galadriel and Elrond show up and Aragorn gets married. Either that or he and Arwen are just holding hands. Gotta say, I can not relate to any of this. Where is the trauma. Where is the trauma!

[ciathyzareposts]

The Two Towers: Won!

Want to bet?

            It’s probably good for my version of the Fellowship that the story ended here, more warped and twisted from Tolkien’s tale than you might imagine a computer game based on this material would allow. At the end, we’ll have to have a little thought experiment about what happens to the story from here. There’s a lot to complain about with this game, but I certainly can’t complain that the developers didn’t give the player the freedom to diverge from the original.

This last session began with Frodo’s party in Ithilien. The map continued to be bounded by the river to the west and the mountains to the east, so I explored in east-west strips as I slowly made my way south. At one point, for no real reason, the game suggested that we were hungry and that we send Gollum to hunt for food. (Food and drink exist in the game, but to provide light amounts of healing. There’s no hunger/thirst system.) Gollum took off to hunt, which is ironic because after he left, we found rations repeatedly as we walked.

           Faramir looks like a jerk in this game.

           Investigating an elephant, we were ambushed by Faramir and his men and taken to a hidden grotto, where Faramir gave us some lore, a healer tended our wounds and taught the “Herblore” skill, and one of Faramir’s men made fun of us for picking up a shovel.

              What a dick.

             Wandering around, we found ourselves on a cliff with a pool below. Faramir pointed out Gollum fishing in the pool and asked if his boy Anborn should shoot him. “Sure,” I had Frodo say, calling his bluff. Anborn nailed him between the eyes, and Gollum’s corpse sank beneath the water.

               From Gollum’s perspective, it’s probably better than being burned to death in lava.

          Well, that’s going to make things a bit easier, I thought, and decided to keep going instead of reloading. We left the grotto with Faramir and two other rangers in tow. At the south end of the map were the ruins of Osgiliath, and the game warned me that I shouldn’t go in there, but I did and suffered and instant death scene.

           But where will I get an inspirational speech from Sam?

          Moving on, we found a statue whose head was missing. We replaced it but then the game wanted me to find a gem to put in its eye. I was losing patience about this point, so I just had the party press east to the gap in the mountains leading to the Morgul Vale. When we reached the entrance, Faramir, the rangers, and Gilglin took off. Gilglin didn’t even have any farewell dialogue, and he took a bunch of Athelas with him.

           This doesn’t sound like a good use of my time.

           In the Morgul Vale, I decided to adopt an exploration pattern that took us counter-clockwise around the mountain borders. We soon came to a river where the game decided it was important that we pick up some “Morgul Water.” Then we canme to a bridge that was “draped in evil,” and Frodo froze, unable to move. 

         Abrupt changes in the active party continued through the end.

          The action switched back to Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Gandalf, who (the game reminded me) were on the road to Helm’s Deep. We passed by a couple of houses where there was this suspicious Rohirrim clearly up to something, but I couldn’t figure out anything to do with him. Moving on, we fought some battles with orcs, Dunlendings, and Dunlending leaders called “Dunarches.” (There were also “orcarches” a couple of times.) We tried to walk to Isengard, but the game wouldn’t let me go past a particular point.

As we headed west, Gandalf suddenly decided that he had to head off on his own to find “the lost armies of Rohan.” He split off into his own party with three Rohirrim named Wulfgrim, Hunthor, and Beodred–no idea where they came from–and went north in search of “Erkenbrand.” I was a bit confused because in the films, Gandalf goes in search of Eomer, but I figured it was roughly the same quest. We wandered around until we found Erkenbrand next to some mountains, and everyone agreed to return to Helm’s Deep.

            Just a reminder of the manual paragraphs. For the most part, they’re shorter than the in-game text.

             Back to Frodo and Sam. Frodo somehow came to his senses and we walked off the bridge. Two steps later, we were at the gates of Minas Morgul, and the game relayed how we saw the gates open and the armies pour out with the Witch King at their head. We had to use the “Hide” skill to avoid being seen. Then it was back to Aragorn.

            The game does an awful lot of telling rather than showing.

                Rather than head directly for Helm’s Deep, I had them thoroughly explore the area, fighting a number of orc parties along the way. We found a mountain pass north of the fortress that led into some caves occupied by Rohan citizens. We were unable to fully explore the caves because guards kept blocking certain passages. This becomes important later.

             What is this place?

            Eventually, we left and went to Helm’s Deep itself. When we arrived, the first thing the gate guard suggested is that we go check out the secret exit at the “Glittering Caves” and make sure that Saruman’s forces hadn’t already found it. We went back to the caves but found nothing new.

Helm’s Deep in the game consists of a central keep with about four rooms surrounded by an inner wall with one opening. Outside the inner wall is an outer wall with two openings. A moat surrounds the whole thing but is crossed by two bridges.

            A satellite view.

           None of the famous faces of Rohan–Theoden, Eomer, Eowen, etc.–were anywhere to be seen since I left Edoras in the last session. No sooner had I poked my head into the inner keep than I received a message that “an immense force of orcs has come,” and I had to rush back outside.

           I was hoping to have an unproductive shouting match with Theoden first.

          Let’s take a moment to go back in time to 2002, when the second Peter Jackson film hit theaters. I’m sure I have some readers who can’t even remember 2002, but to a near 50-year-old man, this is “recent.” I still think of Sleepless in Seattle as “recent.” To me, Renée Zellweger is a fresh young face who’s clearly going places. The other day, when Irene remarked that “Murphy Brown” had been canceled, I said, “Well, they had a good run. It must have been on for–what–15 years?” She had to explain to me that it had actually been off the air for 20 years and what was canceled was brief revival series. I’m just adding some perspective.

  I know that the way the film depicts the Battle of Helm’s Deep violates some aspects of canon, which for some people is like violating a religion, but sitting there in the theater, looking across the field of 10,000 orcs, I realized we had reached a point in cinematic history where a movie could show us anything the director wanted to show us–that there was no more limit to what could be accomplished with special effects. It was one of most thrilling sequences I’d ever seen. They technically topped it in the last film, but by then I was expecting it. Helm’s Deep came out of nowhere.

  I also couldn’t help thinking how the battle illustrates the difference between the mentality of an RPG player and . . . well, real life, I guess. I’m sitting there thinking, “They’re just orcs!” They don’t have any mages or clerics, no trolls or ogres. My Might and Magic VI party would descend from the heavens and slaughter them all with a single “Armageddon” spell. If it was Gold Box game, the battle would be over after six “Fireballs.” These days, my character from Shadow of Mordor would scoff at 10,000 orcs. He’d dance through their ranks, exploding heads, and have half the army converted to his side within 10 minutes.

           What do you mean “too many?” That’s just more experience points for me. Plus, do you know how many wands potions, and scrolls I have to get rid of?

          In other words, some part of me had been waiting to fight Helm’s Deep in an RPG for a long time, and the experience was . . . underwhelming. Aragon and friends rushed out of the Hornburg and encountered six orcs and two Dunlendings immediately outside the entrance. We killed them. Then a message told us more orcs were crossing the bridge, and we killed half a dozen more there. Then the message said that some Dunlendings had come through the south wall, and the game took us directly there so we could kill them.

Now, I guess we were supposed to have the sense that we were only seeing our part of the battle, and that the Rohirrim were fighting other battles all around us. In any event, we got a message that things were hopeless and we should retreat to the Hornburg. We did, then got another message that the absolute final battle–we mean it this time–was beginning. Outside we rushed again and fought three consecutive battles against orcs and Dunlendings right outside the gate. It occurred to me that it might be useful to blow Helm’s Horn at several points during this sequence, and every time I tried, nothing happened. I mention this because after I won, I looked at a hint guide that said I could use Helm’s Horn to make the battle easier. I have no idea where or when.

             The Battle of Helm’s Deep was basically six screens of this.

         Gandalf showed up, as did an army of Ents, and the whole thing was over. Gandalf suggested that we “find any of our comrades who were scattered in the battle” and then go confront Saruman. I looked around and saw that we had Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas, so I didn’t really need to gather anyone. We thus headed up the road towards Isenguard.

On the way, we ran into a party of Dunlendings, led by Prince Burlag, who said that it was their custom that, when they were defeated in honorable battle, the victor should give them a “gift that honors our skill.” My version of Aragorn explained that it was his custom that when he defeated enemies in battle, he tracked down any who were left over and killed them, too.

                           I mean, talk about gumption. They’d just allied with an evil force to utterly destroy the people of Rohan, and they want a gift?! (The hint guide later told me I should have given them any sword.) Unfortunately, we lost Gimli in the ensuing battle. Figuring the game was almost over anyway, I didn’t reload.

We arrived at Isenguard to find Merry smoking pipeweed at the front gate. The game didn’t give me any option to talk to him or invite him into the party, so we pressed on to the main keep. We saw Saruman up at the top of Orthanc and entered the keep. The tower consisted of four levels, with one or two battles with human allies of Saruman. In a library, way too late to be useful, we found books that would teach us various skills.

            Why would they introduce this now?

         At one point, we discovered two “corrupted eagles” and one regular eagle behind a locked door. When we killed the corrupted eagles and freed the regular one, he gave us a word of power called MANWE, which we never used. The only word of power we ever used in this game is a single use of some elf word to open a locked door.

              Can we just speak it, or do we have to whisper it into the ears of a little moth?

             We continued up to the top of the tower, where the game gave us a paragraph indicating that we wee now stuck on the top of Orthanc. Hint guides later told me that I should have used MANWE here to get the Eagles to give us a ride, or use the “Climb” skill to get down, but the stairs still worked just fine for me, so I’m not sure what happened there. Anyway, exploring more carefully, we found Saruman in a corner of the third level. We fought him, and he fled just before he would have died. He left the palantir behind. Picking it up ended the game for this party.

           Our last shot of Aragorn and his part of the Fellowship.

         Action returned to Frodo and Sam. After an instant-death scene when I blundered into Minas Morgul . . .

                      . . . we continued around the mountain range–I think we fought one battle against spiders–until we found the mountain pass to Cirith Ungol to the north. It was a long pass, but nothing assailed us, and we just had to use “Climb” at one point to keep going. 

             Note that, with Gollum out of the picture, Sam is still with Frodo and we both have plenty of lembas bread.

           The pass took us into the caverns of Shelob. I guess Gollum would have attacked us there if we hadn’t killed him earlier, but I spared us that. We used the Star Ruby to burn our way through Shelob’s webs, and Galandriel’s phial to drive off Shelob herself when she attacked.

             Alas, we get no image of Shelob during this sequence. That reminds me: Lord of the Rings fans, how do you feel about Shadow of War‘s revelation that Shelob is really a hot woman in disguise? Cool? Or . . .

           And then, with no final battle or puzzle or anything, the game limped to its inevitable end:

            You have been wounded with spider venom. You hear the approach of iron-shod boots. Orcs! But you collapse, and feel your consciousness fade. The last thing you remember is the Ring falling from its chain.

With the presence of his enemies revealed to him by the Palantir of Orthanc, Sauron decides to move his forces against the city of Minas Tirith, capital of Gondor. Saurman is beaten, but a far greater threat remains. 

           I love how, in the film, it was treated as a big revelation that “Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith.” Was there really anywhere else for him to strike?

            And so ends the second part of “The Lord of the Rings,” not in triumph and glory, but in uncertainty and deadly peril. Can Gandalf, Aragorn, and the other members of the Fellowship save Gondor fro the armies of Sauron? The Ringbearer trapped in the dreaded tower of Cirith Ungol. Can he be saved?

             Someone’s wedding is ruined.

           You have done well indeed to bring the Ring this far, but the quest is not over yet. The Ring must be taken to Mount Doom and destroyed for all to be set right. To be continued in . . . “The Return of the King” coming soon from Interplay.

          Not so hasty.

          We’ve still got a bit to talk about, including the GIMLET, false journal entries, missed material, and why Volume III was never made, so I’ll wrap things up in another entry. For now, let’s analyze what happens in the darker world I’ve created. Gimli is dead–does it matter? (I mean, what did he really contribute?) Is Aragorn’s decision to execute the Dunlending prince going to have any consequences? Most important, what changes with Gollum out of the picture?

Final time: 18 hours

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/the-two-towers-won/

[guardianofrivendell]

PERFECT SECRETS - CHAPTER 4

Legolas x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary:  Mira. A short and unusual name for a short and unusual Elf. After an audience with Galadriel goes sideways, she leaves her birthplace Lóthlorien and the Elves for good.  That is until a certain Gandalf asks for a favor. Come along on her journey, as she reluctantly agrees to accompany Gandalf on the quest to destroy the One Ring.  She befriends every Fellowship member, except one. Legolas and Mira are water and fire from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other. Will this be an obstacle during the quest or is it going to make everything just a little more interesting?

Warnings: none in this chapter, just a stubborn Elf 

Masterlist Perfect Secrets

Guardianofrivendell’s Masterlist

Everyone started to leave after the remaining Council Members had wished them a safe trip. Mira was still trying to wrap her head around it all. It slowly started to dawn on her that she was going to Mordor. Mordor.  It’s not that she was afraid. She was brave enough, she had killed her fair share of Orcs. But this quest was nothing like she had ever done before. She had mostly been on her own, and now had to travel with nine others. Two of them being major dickheads.

“What is clouding your thoughts, my dear?” Gandalf’s voice sounded behind her. 

“Why, Gandalf?” She immediately shot back. 

“Because I was hungry, because I felt like it, it was the right time and because you wanted to. All answers to questions, but none to the one you just asked me. Let me ask you a question in return, Mira. Why not?”

Mira sighed, looking at the other members of the newly founded fellowship. Even though they had volunteered only a few moments before, they all looked so… prepared. 

“Because I’m not ready. This is nothing like the quests we’ve done in the past, Gandalf. I’m sure they all have something to contribute like strength and skills. Filled to the brink with courage, all of them…”

She paused before she added, “Well, of one of them I’m quite certain it’s more stupidity and arrogance than courage but that’s not the point right now. Remember that I did not volunteer myself. You dragged me into this.” She poked his chest to back up her words.  Gandalf wanted to say something, but she interrupted him immediately. “Don’t even think about bringing Galadriel’s words into this!”  He raised his hands in defeat, chuckling lightly. “I was not planning to. Come, child, join me on a walk around the gardens.”

Legolas was talking to Aragorn, briefing him of the escape of Gollum. The reason he came to Rivendell in the first place. Not that he regretted his decision to join the Fellowship, it was the right thing to do and he would do anything in his power to protect the little Hobbit and help destroy the Ring. 

He saw Gandalf talking to the hooded lady. Mira, was it? Everyone could see that she didn’t want to go, and he could hear her complaining about it to the Grey Wizard. Why was Gandalf so keen on bringing her along? What was so special about her? Legolas didn’t like her and that was nothing like him. Somehow she annoyed him terribly. 

“Legolas?” Aragorn repeated. He looked at him in surprise. 

“Welcome back, mellon nin. You were deep in thought! What troubles you?” (My friend)

“Lady Mira. I can not help but have a bad feeling about her,” he stated. 

“And why is that?” 

Legolas watched them descend the stairs, Gandalf a few steps ahead and Mira trudging after him. Even now she still kept her hood up.

“She is constantly hiding underneath her hood. Clearly she does not want to join us. Yet Gandalf insists. I can’t help but wonder why.”

Aragorn smiled. “It’s Gandalf. He always has his reasons.”

“I hope you’re right,” Legolas sighed. He was going to keep an eye on her, until she proved him wrong. 

Mira walked alongside Gandalf through the many little garden paths of Rivendell. She had to admit it was very beautiful and it brought a certain peace to her. She felt almost comfortable being here. Almost. 

“You have skills that will be very useful during our journey, my dear. Do not belittle yourself,” Gandalf began. “Your visions are growing stronger.”

She nodded. “They are, but I can’t control them. I’m vulnerable when I have them, they’re blocking my sight. It’s not something you want to happen mid-fight.”

“There are nine others including myself who can keep an eye on you if that were to happen. You have excellent fighting skills. I cannot see a reason for you not to join.”

She looked at the old Wizard, studying the many wrinkles across his kind face. They went through a lot together, and she suddenly felt the need to protect him overcome her. She thought about all the times she saved him and when he returned the favor. Maybe it was for the best she went with him, if only to keep an eye on him. 

But then she noticed the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Gandalf?”

“Hm?”

“What are you not telling me?”

“These gardens are extraordinary, don’t you think? Let us find Lord Elrond so I can compliment him,” he said with a knowing smile and walked away. Mira stood with her hands down, lost for words. He only did this when he tried to hide something. 

“Gandalf!” she yelled before running after him.

*

Gandalf never told her what he was hiding and after a few days she gave up trying.

He did give her the advice to start getting to know the others before their journey began. Mira agreed, although reluctantly. She didn’t like talking all that much, afraid she would say something that would give her away. But then she realised they probably weren’t even alive back then - well, maybe the Elf was - and she started to feel more comfortable around them. 

She slowly warmed up to Aragorn and Gimli, making her feel a little more at ease. She hadn’t lowered her hood, and they didn’t ask her about it. Yet. 

During meals she preferred to sit with the Hobbits. Their kind and animated personalities made them ideal companions. She especially got along with Merry and Pippin, since Frodo kept mostly to himself and Sam was too busy worrying about Frodo’s wellbeing. It was nice to see how strong their friendship was.  The only two members she tried to avoid as much as she could were Boromir and Legolas and she had the impression they were doing the same. 

She sometimes caught them staring at her during meals, but it wasn’t out of curiosity or even boredom. She knew both men didn’t trust her. Legolas’ electric blue eyes turned cold and distant every time they met hers. If looks could kill, Mira would be slaughtered at least twice a day. 

So to say the fellowship was one tight big family when they left a few weeks later… that would be part truth, and part lies.

Gandalf kept himself close to Frodo so Mira chose to walk with Merry and Pippin instead, sometimes accompanied by Gimli. The Dwarf took a particular liking towards her humor and sarcasm and sometimes the others could hear his booming laughter echoing over the fields.

Legolas kept walking around the group, sometimes going ahead to scout and report to Gandalf and Aragorn on his return. He never stayed with the group and for some reason that irritated Mira immensely. 

She could hear and see everything just as well from her spot in the group, he had no reason to hop around like he was doing right now. He was just showing off. 

When they came to their stop for the night on the 6th day, the Hobbits were exhausted. Gandalf and Aragorn hadn’t allowed them to stop during the day, not even for a meal. The days of constant walking without breaks started to take their toll. And she suspected they finally realized this wasn’t just some fun trip to Mordor and back in a few days. They hadn’t spoken a word for hours.

Sam unpacked his trusty pan and started cooking, but not even the foresight of food could lift the other Hobbit’s spirits up. 

She let herself drop between Merry and Pippin. They hardly acknowledged her presence.

“Hey, it’s okay to be a little scared you know,” she whispered to them. 

“We’re not scared,” Merry said proudly. 

“Course not, and Gimli’s beard isn’t even real!” she laughed. When their eyes widened, she assured them that it was only a joke and she begged them not to go test the authenticity of his beard. 

“I only said that to let you know that I know you’re lying, Merry. But like I said, it’s okay to be scared. I used to be scared all the time.”

She put her hand in her pocket. “Until I got this…”

She opened her palm and showed them what was inside: a blue-green gem stone, shaped like a small rock.

“What is that, my lady?” Merry asked her, looking at the stone in her hand. 

She showed it to them, the blue-green shine reflecting in their eyes. 

“It’s my good luck charm. It was a gift from my father when I was only a child. When I have this with me, I know it will all be okay.” 

“Does it help you win fights?” Pippin wondered.

“It always does, I never lost one since,” she smiled at him. Pippin’s smile grew wider and it warmed her heart, glad to see her trick had helped. 

She took his little hand and placed the stone in it. “Keep this with you,” she whispered to him.  It wasn’t easy for her to part with the gemstone, it was the last thing she had that reminded her of her parents. But when she saw his face light up she knew she’d done the right thing.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, only courage, skills and experience can help you win a fight,” Legolas said to Pippin, before he headed towards the other side of the camp. 

Mira saw Pippin’s smile falter and it made her angry. Who the hell did he think he was?

She stood up and went his way. Legolas stood tall on the top of a large boulder, scanning the surroundings for possible threats. He didn’t even look down when she reached him. 

“What is your problem?”

His eyes met hers briefly, before he continued staring in the distance. 

“You should not give them false hope.”

Mira scoffed. “I’m not giving them false hope! They’re capable of a lot more than you give them credit for!”

He didn’t react to that. In fact, he ignored her completely, his eyes locked to a point somewhere in the distance. Completely fed up with his attitude, she climbed the rock he was standing on and stood right in front of him. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she snapped, poking his chest. 

“I heard you,” he answered.

“They joined the fellowship to help us destroy the Ring, the least you could do is help them in return. Yes, they aren’t warriors or experienced fighters like you and me.” He snorted at that, but she let it slide. “But they want to learn. And you talking them down like that is not helping!”

She turned around, leaving a confused Legolas behind, not sure how he should react. 

When she wanted to jump off the rock, her foot slipped and she would’ve hit her head or made a nasty fall if Legolas hadn’t grabbed her under her arms. 

“It seems like your luck has run out,” he challenged, easily slipping back in his previous attitude. “You might want to ask your stone back.”

“You’re impossible!” she grunted, pulling her arm out of his grasp. 

When she stomped back to Merry and Pippin, she failed to notice the twinkles in Gandalf’s eyes had returned and the suppressed snickers from the others who had watched their interaction with mirth...

A/N: Let me know what you think! Or if you want to take a guess on what will happen next, be my guest :) 

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