#MAN’S LOOKING RIGHT INTO A MIRROR AND GALADRIEL GETS IT AND HE KNOWS HE’S NOT

[morganas-pendragons]

tonight’s thoughts are ALLLLLLLLLLLLL his.

[superloves4]

in your eyes the mirror of mercy (ch.3)

Characters: Maglor & (ROP)Galadriel, Gen

Chapters: 3 of 3

Summary: While searching for Sauron after following a lead to the Southlands, Galadriel stumbles onto the last person she expected to ever see again: her cousin, the kinslayer Maglor Fëanorion.

TW: Blood and death is mentioned? Nothing graphic.

A/N: Messed up ROP's timeline a little so that Durin could be there, also, how did this chapter get so out of my control? 6k, how?

Song recommendation: When You Were Mine - Hayd (I love taking romantic songs and making them about complicated family relationships instead) & Black Friday - Team StarKid

Ch.1 Ch.2

Also on AO3

Maglor plucked at the strings of his harp, a song to bide the night farewell as the light of dawn slowly appeared on the horizon. It had been long since he’d played a song for the sake of music alone.

“I know that song!”

He smiled at the young man who looked flustered for revealing that he’d been listening in the whole time, not that he’d hidden much from the ears of an elf but Maglor wasn’t about to tell him.

“Oh, truly?”

The young man felt encouraged by his measured response and beamed “Yeah, it’s very popular, I used to hear it all the time when I was a child and I’d be asleep right after”

“Good to know that one of my compositions is still so used” Maglor couldn’t hide how glad he was that of all that Elros could’ve carried of him, the ones he chose to keep had been his songs. His next note was a lament, it wasn’t supposed to be, but it was nonetheless.

How many people were forever sundered from him now?

But the man was staring at him in awe anyway “You’re one of them, aren’t you? The ones with the light...”

Maglor smiled “You have much yet to see, Isildur, don’t focus too much on what is beyond sight”

“How did you?”

Their talk was interrupted by the arrival of Galadriel who had heard them and as soon as her own conversation with the young Nùmenorian had ended, she asked “Since when do you have sight?”

Maglor continued playing his harp “I don’t”

She just stared at him in doubt “Those were not just words and you know it”

Maglor stared at the water, another melody turned somber, “I don’t, it’s not sight” he answered, a single cord resounding “It’s Song.”

Galadriel remembered then, something she’d been told as a child, that the sea contained the vestiges of the Song of Illùvatar. The idea felt wrong, something he shouldn’t have been able to hear, but the answer was right in front of her, wasn’t it?

“Have you truly been walking the shores all this time?”

Maglor seemed to reflect on that question before chuckling “Are you more willing to believe me now?” he had a small smile, illuminated by the morning sun, Maglor looked utterly tired “I wasn’t lying but I gathered the truth wouldn’t have been enough”

Galadriel shook her head in disbelief “To think that all this time...” he’d been so close to all of them “...You’d been just down by the shore...”

“Everyone was better off without me” Maglor shrugged “I had my sins to pay for and no one to return to”

“We were still there” Maglor had to stop playing and look at her in surprise but she said nothing more. All those years alone, losing family after family, friend after friend, surely he’d see, surely he’d know.

“Ah, yes, because I’m truly that good of a company, I’m sure” he tried to joke but the conversation was over and she left, with no more clarification to give him.

Riding to battle was not something Maglor ever expected to do again, the human spear he’d been loaned was heavier than any elven or dwarven weapon he’d held before but the heaviness of his spirit was greater than ever, there was still much unsaid and much he didn’t trust about himself.

But when he looked at the Nùmenorians riding alongside him he would remind himself who he was fighting for this time around, he remembered the true enemy now and why it mattered.

The survivors of that faithful day would go back and talk about the fire of the elves that fought in the Southlands, and how their light reached the besieged people before the sun could fully rise. After so many years, the voice of Kanafinwë Makalaurë roared on the battlefield again, a sound most on that battlefield couldn’t even know the legacy it carried, and the few that did, could not believe the sound of an era gone by, could still exist.

But he did exist, he was there and he wouldn’t run away anymore.

“Maglor!”

Galadriel had called to her cousin as the orc tried to escape, not that he made it too far away. Having heard her, he’d quickly reached the two and tripped the orc’s horse sending it’s rider flying.

The two cousins descended from their own horses but Maglor had that horrible gut feeling as back in Nùmenor when he looked at Galadriel, it should’ve been normal, she simply looked pleased at capturing the one responsible for the attack in the Southlands and the orc could have information to lead them back to Sauron, but it didn’t settle well with him nonetheless. Her eyes were dark and cold, it terrified him.

They tied him up in a nearby barn, allowing them to truly see the one they’d been fighting the whole day.

“He’ll wake up soon” he commented, seeing the telltale signs of consciousness returning to the rider.

“Let me talk to him,” she asked him but Maglor was still uncertain so she added “Alone”

Maglor looked from the prisoner back to her, but he decided he’d trust Galadriel.

Galadriel looked down at the orc in front of her, heard his words but couldn’t rest, how many of her people had they taken and killed? How many of the second born? The desire to cut his life short was immeasurable, alas, she still needed information.

But disappointment cuts deep.

It was so hard, to keep down that pain in her chest, even as he continued to speak. Sauron wasn’t there. After everything she had done, all the information she’d tracked down, every hurt and every person that had left her alone to the chase, in the end, it still had not been enough.

And he kept talking, about the orcs in his service and about a place for them, the pain felt as if her chest would cave in at any moment, her breath came harder and she struggled to think.

Adar then called for the One, for recognition.

She was brought back to her childhood and Findaràto was there, he was discussing something or the other with someone, the conversation veered towards Ilúvatar and she could remember her brother’s voice. She remembered everything, as clearly as if it had been yesterday.

How dare he?

She threatened him, she wanted to cause all the pain she suffered on the pathetic orc, to see as he regretted his wretched existence and everything she had to see. Who cared if he called her evil? The blood on her blade was black.

“Nerwen”

Galadriel was thrown back into the present and her breathing returned. The red faded from her vision and the chill of her hate filled her bones. Unlike what she expected, however, Maglor’s eyes weren’t judging her.

Instead, he allowed her to leave, taking care of the prisoner in her place while she remembered how to breathe freely. And she heard them. She heard him.

“There is nothing you could tell me, Son of Fëanor,” was Adar seething “Oh, yes I know who you are, nothing for you to say that the lady hasn’t already”

Maglor sighed.

“You can hardly expect otherwise, there’s too much history between us, no?”

She heard him place some food in front of Adar, she didn’t even notice he had gathered anything.

“Do you think yourself so much higher than us, Calaquendi? Do you believe I don’t know your history or what you’ve done?”

“You seem to have misunderstood my intentions,”

“Have I? You look down on me but before today did you even know if you still bled red? Don’t patronize me, kinslayer.”

“I do not know what it is to feel the enemy on my skin so I cannot speak as truly as another might if you may forgive me for it”

“What are you even talking about?”

There was a pause then a shuffle, it seemed to be Maglor.

“You are more than what Utmno made of you”

His voice was lower, as if on the ground.

“I hope you may remember it before the end, I’ve found it to not be an easy thing to believe in, but it’s all any of us have, no?”

Galadriel braced herself on a rock, adrenaline could no longer carry her and the remaining strength left at last. For so long she had prided herself in her ability to see, to look and know the true heart of someone, ever believing that she had never allowed herself to waver in too harsh or too soft a judgment.

But when the moment arrived she had offered nothing but blood and destruction. Galadriel had believed she had been chasing the light her brother had taught her so long ago, that the dark path she’d threaded had taught her further. But when asked to hope, she had refused.

It had been Maglor, instead. Arrogant, tired, guilty, Maglor. It had been him to reach out and offer mercy.

Her hands were clean but she was heavy. How far had she sunken? For how long had she followed a reflection instead? Galadriel looked at her dagger, her eyes reflected on the blade, would Findaràto truly see his sister if he saw her now?

She silently cried, for how long, she didn’t know, but she did feel when someone sat by her side.

“You were right”

Maglor chuckled and she felt the vibration on her arm where they touched “Oh, my, that is something no one would ever believe happened if I told, you know.” there was some measure of comfort in his voice, she remembered now, Maglor had liked to joke where Maedhros had been more stern in his concern. He’d been an older brother before he’d been her older cousin.

“Celeborn is dead” she began, her voice wistful and pained “I never saw him again, after losing so much of our family to not even have his body to cry over and bury, it was so hard to see forward.”

“Gil-Galad never approved of what I was doing” she explained “He believed I was keeping alive the same evil I had been looking for, perhaps he even believed, knew, I was to become that same evil. That I was marred.” Galadriel felt his stare at her but she could look at him, focusing instead on the object Adar had been trying to escape with “Everyone could see that I had lost myself”

“You know,” he spoke, “these past days you reminded me of someone...”

“Fëanor?”

“Celegorm, actually”

Galadriel scoffed “That’s a low blow even for you”

But Maglor persisted “I know who he is to history, but history didn’t see my brother,” he said firmly “The grief that can overwhelm us and lead us to believe that what we do is correct, that hurt can heal past hurt, but we’re just left with that pain inside, eating at us until we can’t run anymore, there’s nothing my brother can do now but you are here and you’re not him”

Galadriel trembled and her voice struggled “There isn’t a path I can see anymore, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” her whole being shaking “I can’t stop”

“Neither can I”

She looked at her cousin, facing the fear of what she looked like to others now, and in his eyes, she saw reflected that same pain, that same all-consuming desire for vengeance and the flame that hungered for destruction. They had been fighting for so long.

Galadriel gave him a poor smile “You called me Nerwen”

They could survive this, they would find a way.

Maglor laughed and seemed to be about to joke again when his expression changed and he quickly grabbed Adar’s parcel instead. His frantic actions revealed a small axe inside but Galadriel had no idea why it was so important or why Maglor looked horrified.

“We need to run”

“What? Why? We won, what-”

He grabbed her wrist and started pushing her along with him “It’s wrong! It’s all wrong, the sound! The sound! We have to leave!”

“What are you talking about?!”

The ground trembled before the first rocks started to fall but Galadriel couldn’t understand, hadn’t they prevented this? It didn’t matter anymore, Orodruin was erupting and they had to reach the others fast.

Everything seemed to go wrong from then on, at some point she lost track of where Maglor was in the middle of the chaos they found but she dedicated herself to taking as many people to safety as she could even as the world around began to burn. Galadriel thought she heard music in the distance but ash blurred her vision, if her cousin was still nearby she couldn’t tell, and when she was hit by a stray rock she couldn’t tell anything at all.

She woke up to a world of darkness.

It was difficult to not feel it was her fault, when she found her way out of those destroyed lands she’d realize it wasn’t, but in that moment it felt like punishment. Maglor’s words returned to her in the dark and she followed, hoping that the two of them could help others, the human boy in her group in particular, there was too much hurt in Theo that reminded her so much of herself.

They reached the light and things went back into place, Theo found his mother and Arondir, and she got to speak with the Queen and Elendil, learning they planned to return to Nùmenor soon. Everything seemed to correct itself, they had lost much that day and it was exhausting to see their victory turn hollow so quickly.

They would heal.

Galadriel was swiftly enveloped in an unexpected hug.

“You’re safe”

She hugged Maglor back, feeling like a child, truly glad he had survived.

“Did you think you could escape going back to Lindon with me, huh?”

“About that...”

She broke the hug, Maglor was avoiding her eyes, and her arm was bloodied but it wasn’t her blood. The gash at his side was shallower than she feared but Maglor had fought as long as she had, if he knew that such a wound wouldn’t kill him, then why did he look about to leave her his goodbyes?

She shook her head but he smiled.

“Poison” he explained to her silent question “I’m too out of practice it seems, one orc sneaked upon my group” he laughed as if she wasn’t staring at him in horror “I searched the camp, we’ve got nothing and it’s not something I can fix on song alone, I won’t be coming back it seems”

“No,” she refused to see another one of her family die in front of her “No, there’s got to-, Eregion,” she nodded to herself, she could find a way out of this “It’s seven days from here, with the right horses...”

His legs trembled and she held her cousin so he wouldn’t just fall to the ground.

“We’d be lucky if I get three days, let alone seven” he laughed but took her hand “It’s okay, it’s not such a loss, no? I’m still guilty remember”

Of course she did, Galadriel's vision blurred with tears, of course, and that’s why he had to live, that’s why...

“Going soft?” he joked “Hey, it’s more than any of my brothers got, at least I fought for something true no?”

“No, you fought for my revenge, it’s not the same” she sobbed.

Maglor hugged her again but she pushed him away.

“Let me try,” she said “You haven’t fought your true fight yet and you need to be there when I fight mine, Maglor Fëanorion,” her voice cracked “Let me at least try.”

Maglor had liked the idea of dying there, they were close enough to the coast, he could stay there until the poison ran its course, staring at Nùmenor before his long-delayed journey to the Halls called to him. It was way more than he ever thought he’d have.

But Galadriel was crying on his armour and he didn’t want to disappoint her anymore, so he agreed. At least he wouldn’t die alone.

Galadriel had picked the most well-rested horses she could find, faster horses would be best but a horse that covered more ground was better than a fast, tired one that could barely trot right from the beginning. She’d sing of healing and would coerce Maglor to do the same, they might not heal the poison, but if they pushed it back long enough.

“We’ll be there soon, we’re so close to Eregion now” they had stopped for rest and she really didn’t like that Maglor looked to be developing a fever “And when we get there, you’ll be able to see Celebrimbor again”

“Celebrimbor?” she heard him ask, that was good, keep him awake.

Galadriel laughed “Yeah, Celebrimbor, your nephew”

“What are you talking about?”

That made her turn her head “What are you talking about?”

Maglor looked at her seriously, struggling to breathe “Celebrimbor is dead, he died in Nargothrond”

“What? No, he didn’t, he-” she tried to say when it hit her “You didn’t know he wasn’t in Nargothrond when it fell?...”

Maglor seemed slightly delirious at that point “He didn’t-, didn’t return, he stayed, Curufin screamed, he-, he screamed when the news came-”

Galadriel looked at her cousin “All this time you thought he was dead?” but he didn’t answer her so she decided that the time for rest was over.

Elrond grimaced to Celebrimbor and the other grimaced back, the dinner was going worse than they had expected, Durin and Gil-Galad refused to be cordial to each other to everyone’s despair.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected this, what with Durin's dislike of elves and Gil-Galad anxieties after Galadriel’s disappearance, but still he had hoped that meeting on the neutral ground of Eregion would allow for better communication. Alas, they played the same tune yet again.

Durin’s attempt at crass insults towards the High King were thankfully interrupted.

“My King, Lord Celebrimbor, it’s the Lady Galadriel, she-”

“Speak faster would you!” was Galadriel’s screech from behind the doors, her steps heavy “Healer! Elrond! Elrond!”

The desperate call for a healer terrified them all and they rushed to reach her but nothing could’ve prepared them for what they saw. Elrond froze.

While, yes, Galadriel was covered in ash and blood, both black and red, it was clear she was well, nothing that would require urgent care or that a bath wouldn’t reveal to be way less in proportions.

No, the one truly at risk was the one she was carrying, black hair caked in the same mix of ash and blood, a frame much thinner than any of them remembered, and a wound with fresh blood at his side.

None of them ever thought they’d ever see Maglor Fëanorion again.

Elrond looked at Galadriel, he wasn’t even sure he knew what he felt at that moment, he had so many questions but he couldn’t even begin any of them, sentences escaped him. The ground had disappeared from his feet.

But Galadriel begged him “Please, Elrond, you’re the only one that can save him”

He swallowed hard, fighting himself he focused on the moment, he could ask all the questions he wanted later, at that moment they were a healer and a patient, that’s all.

He nodded and Maglor was quickly taken to the nearest empty room.

Durin was looking around confused, wondering if it would be best if he left, Celebrimbor had taken refuge in his forges and Galadriel knew that Gil-Galad was glaring daggers at her but she was exhausted enough to not care, she could only wait and hope she hadn’t been too late.

“Just say what you want to say”

He took a deep breath before saying “You,” he hissed “vanished...”

Gil-Galad seemed to her to be trembling with rage, she wasn’t really sure how she’d justify bringing Maglor here, she just didn’t want to lose someone again.

“And then,” the king continued “When you return, without a single letter in all this time I might add, you have a dying kinslayer with you!” his voice getting progressively more aggravated “Did you even think what you were doing? What were you doing at all this time? Why did you think bringing him, of all people, to Elrond, was a good idea?”

That one she could answer “I think we were wrong,” she answered honestly “I don’t think Maglor ever hurt them”

Gil-Galad stared at her as if her head had fallen off her shoulders, it was humiliating a look from someone so much younger than her, so she glared back.

“They destroyed his home, there’s only so much compassion one can have,” Gil-Galad said, crossing his arms.

Galadriel looked away from the judgemental younger man “I think we were wrong”

The king sighed.

Hours later, after Galadriel had told all that happened to the king, Elrond finally emerged from the room and everyone stared at him.

He avoided all of their gazes and answered “I did everything I could, it depends on him to survive the night”

And he left, Durin quickly running after him.

Elrond crumbled to the ground when he was far enough and took a deep, deep, breath. All he had wanted was a good, respectful, dinner to smooth over old enmities, all he thought he would have to deal with was the stubbornness of elves and dwarves. He felt so cold.

“Soooo,” he heard Durin’s voice “What exactly was that? Seemed more than just an injured of yours”

“That,” the dwarf couldn’t tell what the elf was feeling, his voice neutral as he continued “Was Maglor Fëanorion”

The name seemed vaguely familiar to Durin but he hardly ever bothered with elven history so in the end it meant nothing to him. He just stared at Elrond, hoping he’d continue.

Elrond hid his face in the crook of his arm, swaying slightly “He is a criminal, committed one of our greatest sins, kinslaying, thrice over in pursuit of the heirloom of his father, the silmaril”

Durin was not entirely sure why fighting for a heirloom would be bad but he sensed there was more to the story so he didn’t speak, Elrond seemed to need it.

“He...” another deep breath “He destroyed my mother’s home, then destroyed mine, my mother threw herself to the seas for this, he never got the silmaril...”

Oh, so that was why, Durin whistled “And you saved his life? My, I knew you were kind elf, but this?” he nodded impressed.

Elrond clenched his fists on his own clothes “He’s a selfish prick that left two boys barely out of childhood with a cousin they barely knew to pursue that stupid jewel...”

Well, Durin thought, this seems different.

“I thought he was dead”

The dwarf heard a barely-held-back sob and kept silent companionship while Elrond cried through the night.

Maglor woke up to a high, elven, ceiling.

It was so beautifully normal and familiar he knew it had to be wrong. He painfully pushed himself in a sitting position, his wound had been patched perfectly but the side effects of the poison made his body ache with every movement.

“I wouldn’t recommend moving now,” Galadriel laughed at him “Wouldn’t want Elrond’s work to go to waste no?”

“Elrond?” he despaired “You brought me to Elrond?”

“I didn’t,” she defended herself “He was already in Eregion, maybe for a reason”

“He wouldn’t want to see me after all that I did” he struggled to acclimate to the soft pillows, there had been a time when all his pillows had been this soft, now they made him feel insecure.

“You survived,” she told him “It’s the only way we can truly move on, no?”

Maglor laughed and then groaned from the pain in his abdomen “Don’t you think I won’t use the fact that you cried for me against you”

Galadriel smiled, yes, they could find a way out of the fire.

“They are waiting for you”

Maglor needed time before he could confront Elrond, so he searched for Celebrimbor instead. It wasn’t easier, but at least he had known Elrond was alive all this time. He would see his nephew for the first time in so many years...

“HEY! Who’s there?”

Celebrimbor turned the corner and stopped, his face in shock, but Maglor couldn’t even respond. There he was. His little nephew.

He had this vivid memory, they had all gathered to wait for Curufin's arrival and then the doors opened, his brother came out holding what seemed to Maglor as the smallest elfling he’d ever seen, even the Ambarussa had been bigger.

He had been so small, Maglor had held him in his arms, sung him to sleep.

And there he was now, a grown man, it didn’t matter if he rejected his foolish uncle, to see him again had been enough.

“How did you get here?” Celebrimbor asked cautiously.

“I-” Maglor smiled awkwardly “Believe it or not, I know my way in a forge... we all knew...” he trailed off, he felt the push of song but refused it, he needed to be present now, he owed them as much.

Celebrimbor nodded, more to himself than as an answer “I’m glad you’re alive?”

Maglor laughed “Usually, it’s not a question”

Celebrimbor sighed “I, it’s just, we all thought you died after Eönwë’s camp, to see you now... I don’t even know what to say”

“You don’t need to say anything Tyelpë” Maglor wanted to commit his vision to memory “I’m sorry, for everything that we failed you for, and for everything you had to endure after we weren’t here”

Maglor thought his nephew was still too kind when Tyelpë got closer and with all the sincerity in the world, asked him “Are you all right, uncle? Do I need to call a healer?”

“We thought you died in Nargothrond” Maglor told him, unable to keep himself from reaching to stroke his nephew’s head, how funny that Curufin who had been smaller than Maglor had a child that now stood taller than he did, the caress just a little awkward as a result.

“What...?”

Telperinquar knew he hadn’t sent letters but somehow the idea of his father lying on the floor of Doriath, thinking he had long died, moved something in him. Had his father thought of him then? Did he want for his father to have thought of him?

“Did my father?...”

“...Yes”

Maglor removed his hand “He thought much of you, if it matters anything, I understand if you do not wish to hear of him”

Tyelpë looked at his uncle, he still looked terribly smaller than the great elf of his memories and the poison had left him looking deathly pale, like a gust of wind would send him tumbling down the stairs. No one was sure what to do with him, Galadriel herself had brought him back and asked for his salvation, where did that leave that tired kinslayer? And who was he to Telperinquar?

“I was hurting,” Tyelpë began, trying to find the words, those had always come easier to his father “I saw my family betray everything I believed in, father had always promised I’d be safe with family, but my family wasn’t safe from themselves” he walked towards one of the benches “I never wanted for you to believe me dead... but I also believed you dead, for all these years...”

“I-, I know what that looks like, I just-” Maglor struggled to explain, desperation tugging at his heart “I never wanted to impose on you, if you wish me gone, I will.”

But Tyelpë simply held something up to his face.

Maglor stared at it in disbelief “That’s father’s hammer...” he couldn’t help but snort “You took it from Curufin’s things?” he laughed, shaking his head. Curufin had been desperate to find it, searched the entirety of Himring, and instead, the whole time... Maglor was rather proud he had to admit “I’m so glad to see you well, Tyelpë.”

The man in front of him smiled “If you are to stay, then you better prove it. I’d hate to lose my uncle again.”

Maglor smiled back. After all those years, he finally got to hug his nephew, and he knew he’d gladly spend any time proving whatever was asked of him.

“Is something wrong, Tyelpë?”

A voice Maglor didn’t recognize asked, but unlike his skepticism, Celebrimbor seemed delighted.

“Oh! Annatar! Please, come meet my uncle!”

The moment the man stepped forward Maglor knew he wasn’t an elf, but neither was he a human. Certainly a handsome person but there was something unnatural about his beauty, something uncanny about the splendour of his blonde hair, it seemed as if one had attempted to recreate the way treelight would illuminate people in Valinor. But he didn’t think Celebrimbor would remember, he’d been so young when they left.

“I salute you, son of Fëanor, I am Annatar Aulendil” the man introduced himself, his smile was almost too serene.

Celebrimbor beamed “He is a maia of Aulë, he was sent by the Valar to help us” he seemed so proud of himself, Maglor felt bad for his reticence, they just reconnected he didn’t want to go back on his words, it was just that...

“Why would the Valar send someone to the House of Fëanor?” he asked. Maglor firmly believed that he’d never met a maiar named Annatar in Aulë’s halls.

The man looked at him and without a beat answered “Why wouldn’t they? Is Celebrimbor not innocent? And aren’t the Valar merciful?” he tilted his head, still smiling in that strangely perfect way “Why wouldn’t we embrace the house that betrayed us? Thus bringing them back to our embrace”

Celebrimbor laughed “He is not wrong, we have much to atone for, I have many hopes for this”

It pained Maglor’s heart to hear it, Celebrimbor should’ve never been the one to stand for them. He tried to speak, to remind his nephew that he didn’t owe them anything but was interrupted by the maia.

“Is it not what you wish for yourself, son of Fëanor? Redemption?”

Maglor bristled but kept it hidden, not wanting to upset Celebrimbor “Nothing so grand, there is no redemption for myself,” it wasn’t a sad thought, just something he’d live with “I merely wish for healing now.”

The man stared at him for an unsettling amount of time “A noble desire, I suppose” he finally said “There is much I heard about Maglor Fëanorion, about your music in particular, is it true that you are even better than our great late king, Finrod Felagund?”

Maglor took a step back, not liking the question “We never had any need to know” he responded curtly.

Annatar hummed, he never stopped smiling.

“How unfortunate”

He might have said something back but Celebrimbor grabbed his hand “I believe I can create something, Uncle, not to capture but to heal, Annatar has been a great help in achieving such ideal, I wish for us to get along”

Whatever that Annatar had wrong, Celebrimbor was looking at him so hopeful that Maglor didn’t have the heart to refuse him anything.

Maglor stayed long with his nephew, leaving him felt painful, the feeling that Tyelpë would be gone the moment he took his eyes off of him would likely never truly leave him.

But he still had one more person he needed to meet.

The one he had the most to apologize for.

He found Elrond looking blankly into a crystal goblet from the night before and Maglor had no doubt he was the cause of his heavy heart. To have to save someone that hurt him so deeply, Maglor didn’t even begin to know how to atone.

Maybe his death would be the requirement.

But Maglor didn’t want to die anymore.

“I-”

“So, it seems I’m last,” Elrond hummed, not turning to look at him “I should not have imagined differently, huh”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me so soon”

Elrond scoffed “Because the last time I saw you wasn’t hundreds of years ago, am I wrong?”

“I know I hurt you, I want to apologize”

Elrond jumped from his seat, putting more distance between him and Maglor “Of course, because that will fix everything”

Maglor sighed “You don’t need to forgive me, I just thought you deserved to hear me say that I am truly sorry” and walked back to the door, he knew he should leave now, Elrond clearly didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, it was only right to not bother the peace he’d found for himself.

“There’s a bow by that corner,” Maglor turned to look and indeed Elrond was telling the truth “If you leave this room now, I will shoot you”

“Elrond!”

“Don’t!” Elrond screamed back, finally looking at him, his eyes were red, swollen, and Maglor could see the tear trails on his face now “Don’t you dare reprimand me for anything! You don’t deserve it!”

“Of course I don’t Elrond!” Maglor exclaimed, hoping to make him understand “I’m not trying to forget what happened, I’m not asking you to forgive me! You don’t need to look at me ever again!”

“Then why are here? Why do you always arrive just to leave again?” Elrond shouted “You keep repeating yourself! You think you can correct what you did by for caring for us, but leave us with Gil-Galad instead, then you think you can correct everything by just disappearing with no letters, we thought you were dead! How am I to believe you won’t just vanish tomorrow, find an excuse about making amends and we never see you again? We-, no, I never see you again.”

“I should’ve come sooner, I just-, I thought that was what you wanted.” Maglor avoided Elrond’s gaze, he never expected this whenever he imagined how meeting his ward again would be.

“You have no idea what I want,” Elrond threw at him, cornering Maglor “You just do things and put inside your head that everyone wants you gone because leaving is easier than realizing that you changed, that there was more than the path you took when you arrived in Beleriand, that you could do something”

“I’m sorry! I truly am, I spent so long thinking about what I should’ve done better, but everything I did,” Maglor tried desperately to make him see “I did because I thought was the greater good, for you, for Elros, I should’ve never taken you two, you deserved far more than who I was, I should’ve never hurt you as I did, but leaving was the only correct choice”

Elrond scoffed again “You are still doing it! You put in your head this image of what happened and you don’t stop to think what we wanted!” he was crying now and Maglor felt his heart break, Elrond should not be crying, he should never have to cry.

“For the greater good?” Elrond questioned, his voice shaking “Father left for the greater good, Mother left for the greater good, Elros left for the greater good,” his head drooped and he let himself lean on Maglor’s chest, like a child looking for comfort “But you... You were selfish, you should’ve stayed, there was nothing you could truly do to fix what you had done, we wanted you to stay, you should’ve been selfish...”

“Elrond...”

Maglor took him in his arms, he had grown much since he last saw him, but in his arms, Elrond was just that scared child again. He had been so wrong.

“I’m tired, of being left,” Elrond sobbed “So, if you plan to leave, then leave, I’ll pretend you died as you wanted...”

“No,” Maglor kissed his head “I’m not leaving, I’ll stay to the breaking of the world if it’s what you want, I’m sorry Elrond, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it in time to see Elros,” Maglor continued to stroke his back, letting the sobs dwindle “I’ve been there you know, I saw Nùmenor, I saw his heirs, they built so much and they are so strong, I will be here to see what you will build”

Elrond could help the new sobs, feeling at least a little more full, even when and if he saw his parents again, he had lost Elros, and probably would lose others along the way, there would never be a him who was whole. But people could come back, some could still return to him. It was flawed but it was his family. And that was enough.

“I missed you...”

“I missed you, too”

Galadriel looked over that reunion from above, she had never meant to eavesdrop, it was too important a moment for her to do so, but the screams had attracted more attention than the two had meant and she had ended up witnessing the end of that confrontation. She was happy for them.

Everything was shaky and fragile, they still had much to work to do and Maglor’s fate was uncertain, her own decisions were still to show their consequences.

But they weren’t alone anymore. They could heal now.

The End

[rings-of-power-realm]

I've been a fan of Tolkien for over 40 years, read everything he has published and read The Hobbit and LOTR a half dozen times over those decades. I loved the Rankin/Bass animated versions of the story as a teen and I thoroughly enjoyed Peter Jackson's take on the tale and appreciated the artistic license he took to round the stories out for film. I had no expectations going into The Rings of Power, positive or negative. I hoped it would be a beautiful expansion of a world I love and wanted to see more of. I saw the usually people already complaining about this and that, assuming they knew what was best for the works and of course knowing exactly what Tolkien would want and dislike (eye roll) and tried to ignore these trolls completely. They seem to like to ruin any and every journey before it gets a chance to begin and I would not want to spend one moment with these joyless creatures. All that being said I sat down with a snack and refreshments release night and watched the first episodes of The Rings of Power and was dumbfounded. What did I just watch I said to myself. It certainly wasn't anything like the trash mob of negative internet trolls said it would be. It was glorious. From the moment Galadriel's opening voiceover began to the second she plunged her brother's dagger into the ice wall I realized I had leaned forward on the couch and was smiling from ear to ear. The world had faded away and I was enthralled by the beautiful cinematography, the vivid colors and the sheer breadth of the opening shots, the Tolkienesque dialogue...I watched it again. Nope not me imagining it. I watched the rest of the episode and was so tickled I watched it again. I then watched the second. I was so happy, it's indescribable. They struck all the right notes and I was in that world again, like I was reading the books or watching the movies... immersed in Middle Earth and it's tales. Somehow they took the charm and detail of Jackson's movies, added a heavy dose of Tolkien lore, some artistic license and flawless creative CGI and created something fresh but familiar. I knew this place but it was like seeing it with new eyes, the inhabitants and places the same but even more vibrant. So far I'm thrilled with what they have done. If the story pans out and it continues on this path they may have something fantastic on their hands. Something to be celebrated by TRUE Tolkien fans and lovers of Middle Earth. "But it's not Tolkien's story." Well he's not around to create any more content, and it is based on the world and characters he created. If you don't want to watch something he didn't actually write tune out, but don't ruin it for the rest of us. What's wrong with more stories from Middle Earth even if they aren't written by the man himself if they're done well and in his spirit? "Why did they cast so diversely?" Well I don't know how to help you with your "problem" but the way I see it, the only people taking umbrage with that probably have questionable character. Tolkien created a large world with many races, species, etc. I don't remember him ever writing specifically that they were all white. Naturally in a world that big there would be many beautiful types of people, races, ethnicities and cultures. The expansion of this in the show only adds to the richness of the story. If not it would a pretty vanilla tale indeed. If you find yourself complaining about diversity you should probably take a long look in the mirror and ask yourself the real reason you have a problem with it. Lastly I want to address once more the groups that like to mass negative review things. You reveal yourselves when you give a negative review to something before it's even been released in its entirety. I'll be the first to edit this if it turns badly later, but I'll give it it's due first. It's seems like some kind of sickness, the need to try to ruin something just because they don't agree with how it's done or who's in it. It really invalidates all your reviews because you're not reviewing a thing on its content, you're reviewing it on your prejudice, you're reviewing according to your hateful opinions. You won't even give it a chance because "I hate this, and don't like that...oh the wokeness!" Not one of you will be able to look past any of your personal hang ups to give the story and it's presentation a chance to stand on its own, therefore your reviews are meaningless and should be treated as such. I hope that that's taken into account when the time comes to invest in more chapters, seasons and stories if this pans out. If you don't like it go away and let the rest of us enjoy it without having to listen to you try to ruin something without giving it a chance. Gandalf would disapprove. "May dawn take you all and be stone to you!" More Middle Earth is a Good Thing! by redkingisalive imdb 10 star review

[emarasmoak]

Charlie Vickers teases what to expect from Sauron in ‘The Rings Of Power’ season two. The breakout actor playing Tolkien's Dark Lord speaks out

Some pretty awesome hints on what is to come in season 2 and Charlie's hopes for his character.

Just two months ago, Charlie Vickers was a complete unknown – cast as a brand-new character in TV’s most expensive show ever, The Lord Of The Rings: The Rings Of Power. Since then, and thanks to playing Middle-earth’s most mysterious character yet, he’s shot to stardom, jumped onto magazine covers and grabbed the attention of all the right people. You might call him 2022’s breakout star to rule them all.

In The Rings Of Power, he plays Halbrand – a dashing young man with a murky past. It felt like he was one of the show’s main heroes. But as the series progressed, a shadow lengthened about him and he started acting suspiciously. The finale revealed that Halbrand is actually the dark lord Sauron in disguise.

With fans already looking towards season two (filming of which recently got underway), we met up with Vickers to find out about what’s still to come.

Hey Charlie, it’s been a pretty big week for you!

“Yeah it has been! I did some interviews this morning and then I went to the gym, went to a cafe, and did a bit of work on scenes I’m filming next week for the second season.”

Now everyone knows you’re Sauron, do you get strangers coming up to you?

“Yeah, they shout kill him! [laughs] No, that hasn’t happened yet but anyone that has said something has always been very nice.”

When did you find out you were Sauron?

“It was half-way through shooting. They took me onto the set in the Northern Waste which Galadriel discovers in the first episode. There are orcs stuck in walls. It’s nasty. They took me in there and they didn’t hail me or anything, they just said: ‘This is your kingdom, this is where you’ve been hanging out – you’re Sauron’. And I was like ‘holy shit!’”

Had you had an inkling?

“Morfydd [Clark, who plays Galadriel] and I were both theorising from the start. We chemistry tested together a couple of times and we were like ‘there’s something going on here’. I auditioned playing Satan from Paradise Lost and Richard III!”

Looking back on season one it’s clear Adar, played by Joseph Mawle, nearly recognises Halbrand as Sauron…

“Yeah, Joseph and I worked really hard in creating that story and it’s something we see more of in the second season. We see Adar and Sauron’s time and how they first connected. Adar’s going to have to do some saying sorry at some point though [for what he did in season one].”

And what about the connection between Sauron and the Stranger, played by Daniel Weyman?

“I’m not sure that Sauron knows that an Istar [the Stranger] has been sent from Valinor. We know [from Tolkien’s writings] that they were sent in the Second Age [when The Rings Of Power is set]. The Blue Wizards were sent and for the record I’m not sure if the Stranger is Gandalf. I know everyone thinks it is, but I genuinely don’t know. Of course he has some lines which mirror what Gandalf says [in Peter Jackson’s film trilogy] but I genuinely don’t know. I don’t think Sauron’s aware of that yet. He may have felt some disturbance when [the Stranger] crash-landed [in episode one]. He may have felt something because of course The Stranger is a Maia too. I think he will be a very troublesome foe in the future because he’s the closest thing to Sauron in Middle-earth in terms of power. I hope there’s some kind of dynamic to come there.”

What else can you tell us about season two – what can we expect from Sauron?

“All I can say is we’re getting into the meat of it now. The world has been established in season one and now we can get into the lore. I’m talking about the stuff at the heart of The Rings Of Power: the Akalabeth [the downfall of the kingdom of Numenor]. Sauron is out there now and there’s no longer any questions or theories about who he is – which is a shame for some I guess. We’re gonna be with him while he’s doing shit, while he’s out there manipulating people and taking on the elves.”

Eventually, he’s going to have to transform into the Sauron we know – would you be willing to get in the suit yourself?

“I have thought about that. When we get to the fifth season, am I going to have to look for another job? It’s one of those things. What did they do in The Mandalorian [when Pedro Pascal took off the helmet]?”

I guess it’s more like Obi Wan Kenobi, when Hayden Christensen suited up for Darth Vader after playing Anakin Skywalker…

“I would love to do that. I would love to do some acting through a suit, even if it’s just with prosthetics and not actually Sauron’s famous big suit [from the films]. There’s so many cool things that our Sauron could be at that stage. I’ve seen interpretations of him when he’s been deformed and artist drawings when he could no longer take his fair form [as Halbrand]. I loved it. So fingers crossed I can eke more time out on the show!”

Tell us about the promised two-episode battle we’re getting next season…

“I haven’t read that yet. I think it comes towards the end of the season. We’ve only got the first three scripts, three episodes. But [showrunners J.D. Payne and Patrick McKay] told me about it and it’s super exciting. The best thing is it’s in the lore. If you go to the appendices, you’ll see what’s about to happen. I think it’s going to be pretty epic.”

[demonscantgothere]

An Argument for Sauron!Halbrand, Show Clues Or Red Herrings, Pt. 1

I went back and poured over what I could have been mistaking as red herrings, but couldn’t get past episode two without dozens of potential easter eggs, so I felt a little compendium was worth writing out. There are a few references and call backs to the original The Lord of the Rings trilogy, especially with the cinematography, and I’m going to include other snippets from Tolkien’s compendiums that they have cleverly weaved into the writing. Other things are more noticeable, like the directing and acting in certain scenes.

Some people seem really angry about it, but they mostly seem to be people who haven’t even watched the material and just read spoiler blogs, run around, and scoff at everything. But, to me as a longtime Tolkien fan, I love the adaptation. It’s rich with lore, phenomenal acting and directing, and set pieces to die for. Am I bitter about any changes so far? No. Most of what they have changed is a result of not having legal rights to the material. For example, they weren’t given rights to the material that states a definitive date on Galadriel’s marriage to Celeborn, which could explain why he has been absent so far. The rest of what they have changed is simply timelines, condensing a large span of time into a much smaller frame to show two huge stories where Sauron was a main character: The Forging of the Rings of Power and Akallabêth. He wasn’t a big eyeball during this time; he had a body, and he was still at that point capable of appearing fair and noble to both Elves and Men.

If you want Sauron to remain hidden and be a big reveal, you’re not going to give him the alias he used in Tolkien’s writings because a quick Google search would reveal it. I’m not understanding why people aren’t getting that. Did you really want to see a character named Annatar? Did you really? I would’ve been so disappointed in the writers if they had done that.

They obviously wanted to weave a big story using well-known key players: Galadriel and Elrond. Considering Galadriel’s expanded role in The Hobbit, I feel it’s safe to say they were adding onto that by saying ‘maybe her involvement with this Sauron business goes way back, let’s explore that some more’ because it was Galadriel that banished Sauron in The Hobbit, not Elrond or even Gandalf.

Making her, one of the very few women in Tolkien’s writings who take the forefront anyway, the main character was a great move. Everyone’s tired of hearing a man’s story, anyway. The Lord of the Rings was a whole company of nothing but men that spurned decades of m/m fanfiction nobody’s ever complained about, so does it really matter that Galadriel potentially has a love interest? Does it really? Potentially being the key word here as most of what has happened between them has been, well, verbal sparring and basic human kindness and maybe a handful of emotional overtures? The hypocrisy on that alone just because she’s a female character is astounding to me. I’ve seen so many men joking about ‘slut-shaming’ her. She is a fictional character, and I find her very in-character for a young, strong-willed woman. Er, Elf.

Anyway, this breakdown starts with episode one and two. Be warned, it’s image heavy.

Episode 1: A Shadow of the Past

We have the first clue/red herring in the scene with High King Gil-Galad and Elrond as they discuss the newly minted decision to send Galadriel away as a gift when, to her, if feels like a banishment. She has been searching for Sauron nonstop in vegeance for her brother Finrod’s death, but it’s been centuries and everyone really wants Galadriel to cool it. Then, we get this little gem:

We all know how looking into the future is Tricky Business™ for Elves, and well, anybody. In The Fellowship of the Ring when Frodo asks Galadriel, “What will I see?” if he looks into the mirror, she replies:

“Even the wisest cannot tell. For the mirror shows many things. Things that were, things that are, and some things . . . that have not yet come to pass.”

To drop this line: “We foresaw that if it had, she might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat,” in your opening episode, you’re basically telling us that Galadriel, refusing to let this go, is what’s going to bring about Sauron’s evil once more. No one has seen Sauron for hundreds of years at this point, perhaps longer, so yeah, maybe they were right and she should’ve let this go.

But we wouldn’t have a story to tell if she did, so bag that up. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” as they say during times like these.

Next, when facing the curtains of Valinor opening before her, Galadriel recalls a conversation with her brother. It is a metaphor for good and evil, right and wrong, hope and despair. The part we see here is just her question of his metaphor, though: “But sometimes the lights shine just as brightly reflected in the water as they do in the sky. How am I to know which lights to follow?”

To me, this is showing us that Galadriel isn’t always going to know which lights are the “good people” and which lights are the “bad people” pretending to be good people. Because that’s the difference. Sometimes some people really convince you they’re good and you believe it — but it’s just a reflection of what you want to see. In reality, it’s a lie, a ruse, or a mask. I think this is going to be a huge part of her journey: figuring out the truth.

And in that fateful moment when she chooses to jump off the ship, we get our meteor man, who is most certainly a Maia, but which one? I don’t know. We have only so many Maiar with names, the most well-known being Gandalf, Saruman, Radagast, Sauron, and Melian. They are basically Tolkien’s renderings of angels from Christianity, with the fifteen Valar (yes, I said fifteen — Melkor/Morgoth still counts) being more like Arch Angels of higher power than them.

There is actually a reference to this meteor in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil by Tolkien:

“He twinkled his feet, as he thought of the meat,

of pepper, and punch galore;

And he tripped unaware on his slanting stair,

and like a meteor,

A star in flight, ere Yule one night

flickering down he fell

From his laddery path to a foaming bath

in the windy Bay of Bel.”

I think he could be any of the Maia above except for Sauron or Melian. In fact, he could be one we haven’t met yet. I think either possibility is a fun one, and I haven’t made up my mind on this one yet. If it’s Tom, I love it. They did cut him completely out of the original triology.

However, I don’t think he’s Sauron because Sauron was given a chance to go to Valinor and answer to the Valar after Morgoth’s defeat, but he didn’t want to face the humilation of having to earn his penance, so he fled and hid himself. Coming down out of the sky in a big ball of fiery flame is not congruent with his attitude at the time . . . and he would’ve needed permission from Ilúvatar to do it, which he most certainly did not have.

“Of old there was Sauron the Maia, whom the Sindar in Beleriand named Gorthaur. In the beginning of Arda Melkor seduced him to his allegiance, and he became the greatest and most trusted of the servants of the Enemy, and the most perilous, for he could assume many forms, and for long if he willed he could still appear noble and beautiful, so as to deceive all but the most wary. When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not within the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgement of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and receive from the Valar a sentence, it might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith, for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-earth.”

– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, “Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age”

Sauron isn’t trying to draw attention to himself right now, so that is why I don’t believe meteor man is him.

Now, getting back to the show, we get an answer from Finrod at the very beginning of the episode to Galadriel’s childhood question: “But sometimes the lights shine just as brightly reflected in the water as they do in the sky. How am I to know which lights to follow?”

I feel like Galadriel is going to be at a crossroads with this before this show is over. She is going to have a hard time distinguishing friend from foe. Somebody close to her is likely not who she thinks they are, and it’s going to be a painful reveal for her when it happens. Given that Sauron was known to be deceptive and sweet-talking, it makes sense. I know Tolkien said Galadriel sensed Sauron’s evil, but he also said the One Ring corrupted everybody, and yet somehow little human Faramir wasn’t affected by it. Pffft.

Episode 2: Adrift

When we meet Halbrand, he says something we’ve heard before:

In The Fellowship of the Ring, Galadriel says "the tides of fate are flowing” to Frodo Baggins. It’s no coincidence. Why, thousands of years later, is this line still remembered and being repeated to Frodo as he goes on a quest to destroy Sauron?

Yeah, fondness doesn’t seem like a valid enough reason if you ask me.

When the sea monster attacks the raft, we get a scene of Halbrand purposefully undoing the ropes on the raft and pushing his part away from everybody else, and he . . .

. . . literally pushes them toward the monster’s mouth. I had to watch it a few times to be certain, but he most certainly fed his companions to the sea monster and saved himself. I don’t know some things, but I know kings in Tolkienverse don’t act like this guy. He is a Grade A Street Survivalist.

And after he’s fed everyone to the sea monster to appease it, he goes back to Galadriel. This is where things get really interesting.

When he throws down the oar, he smirks. Rewatch the episode if you didn’t see it, but he most certainly smirked.

And I don’t know about you, but that rescue scene was creepy as hell. Pay attention to Halbrand’s face. This is how he looked down at her, not extending his hand to help in any way, for nearly half a minute:

I mean, Jesus. That’s not the face you want to see on your rescuer, is it? Not only that, but the music score got darker and lower in that moment as if teasing whether or not he would actually help her. I’m going to be honest. Bad vibes. Bad vibes all around.

Arm Clasp #1

Yes, I’m keeping track of these because there are a lot of arm clasping moments with these two.

I snickered at the subtitles for that one, though, not gonna lie.

I mean, in all honesty, he really looks at her in uncomfortable ways during this episode. Take, for instance:

And um, yeah, he totally checked out her backside:

And liked what he saw.

And, for some reason, thinks this is great moment to smile:

No, Halbrand. No.

This is just not the behavior of a Tolkienverse king or lord. I’m going to say this many times before all this is through. He is no Aragorn by any stretch of the imagination, and a part of me is really skeptical that he is supposed to be a lord.

Later on, Galadriel sees his pendant and has thoughts about it.

Halbrand’s immediate response is to cover it up and conceal it within his shirt.

After concealing something in attempt to keep his distance from her, he has the audacity to tell her, “You needn’t keep your distance.” I . . . what? He’s encouraging her to get closer to him? When he won’t do the same? Sadly, it’s a classic manipulation tactic.

Galadriel already has her thoughts about this human, and they are not at first positive.

“The sort that knows how to survive. Why be part of the larger target?” I am reminded of how Sauron fled after refusing to face the Valar after Morgoth’s defeat. After all, back then, the real target was Morgoth, and . . . he made sure to get the hell out of dodge.

Not only that, but why would a Southron man be all the way out to sea, out west, west past Númenor, so close to the perils one faces when trying to seek access to Valinor and you’re not given a ticket in past the golden curtain? Was someone trying to . . . sneak into Valinor?

I have questions. There is no reason in all the world that a Southron man should be out here.

Sauron, on the other hand . . . I can understand an attempt from him to slip into Valinor unseen.

Personally, this sounded a little like a veiled threat from Halbrand.

Ah, fellow deserters. He pokes and prods at her a lot for information, and even says he thinks she is here by no accident. I don’t think he’s here by accident either. You two were both planning something, and that’s why you’re here.

I think he’s projecting here. But also, if you’re just a man, a human, do you think an Elf cares what you decide about them? I could almost laugh. It definitely makes Galadriel angry, which causes a very interesting vision to appear.

After Halbrand mentions his homeland, Galadriel gets a flash back to the Fortress of Angband, the last known stronghold of Sauron’s that he was forced to desert:

The image even blazes with fire, which never happened when Galadriel saw it in person. I almost think this is a vision she’s receiving. From who? Good question.

Maybe you’re . . . a little too close to the source?

This is perhaps a small turning point, but Haldbrand still doesn’t seem very moved by it.

His look at this question says no to me.

Why is this funny? Literally, no king or lord in all of Tolkienverse would scoff at eventually reclaiming their rightful lands. Who is this guy?

Oh boy, is he out here dodging questions and letting her draw her own conclusions. 

When she says, “I chose to seek out the very enemy responsible for your suffering,” Halbrand takes that real personal. Real personal.

And there would be so much irony in the idea that she is finally face to face with that same foe and cannot recognize him.

There is something about the way he responds to that. He seems more sullen now. No smart quips. Just silence. Because you know what? This is personal for her, too.

I really find it funny that he wants to comment on honesty while not answering a damn thing about himself. This guy knows something about hiding, all right.

One particular line during this scene caught my eye more than others, too:

“If you want to murder Orcs and settle a score, that’s your affair. Don’t dress it up as heroism.”

First of all, who ever says ‘murder’ Orcs? Kill Orcs, sure, because no one thinks it’s a crime to kill Orcs. Murder implies it’s a crime. Why would he use that wording if Orcs took everything from him and slaughtered his people? ‘Don’t dress it up as heroism’ has got me confused as well because taking out Orcs is basically heroism as they are torturous, reviled, evil creatures. Look at  Halbrand, standing up for Orc rights. Okay, buddy. Okay.

The casual look on his face. He knows she won’t stop, so he tells her what she wants to hear. He never explicitly states that’s his home either. The emblem on his pendant is from the Southlands, though, and we later discover Adar is down there, wrecking havoc, but . . . there’s more to this story with Halbrand and Adar.

As Halbrand states, “I’ve got my own plans, Elf,” a convenient storm rolls in:

Given where they are at sea, this is one of the perils and I feel like it was done on purpose. The moment Halbrand says he has ‘plans,’ we get a storm that could very well kill both of them and end those plans. My personal vote is the Valar sensed something wasn’t right, who was out there, and responded accordingly.

Lightning strikes immediately as she says, “Bind yourself to me!”

And lightning strikes again when she says, “Give me your hand!”

Next thing we know, the wooden pole Galadriel bound herself to gets a direct lightning hit. Man, she really pissed off the Valar if you ask me. Why didn’t they just strike Halbrand? We wouldn’t have a story if they did, that’s why.

Galadriel goes under, and Halbrand . . . seems to be in shock about it. He definitely waited for the whole rope to sink, though. Why save her if he’s Sauron? Well, she did just promise him an army. And to help him reclaim his former position of power. I don’t know about you, but I’d keep her around, too. This Elf could be very useful.

And we get this beautiful cinematography below. A really well constructed moment that heralds back to The Two Towers when Frodo saves Sam from drowning:

The Two Towers:

Below, we can argue the look of shock on his face was relief at having something sharp to just cut the rope with, but I think he recognizes Finrod’s dagger. It can go either way, but they highlighted his shock on purpose so we could see it.

Galadriel climbs aboard first once they’re back up.

Arm Clasp #2

Yes, I’m keeping count. I think there is clearly a pattern with the word ‘bind’ when it comes to their storyline as it shows up a lot.

The purposeful contrast of their clothing in the above shot on the raft. Him, dark. Her, light. Maybe I’m reading into it too much, but I don’t know. A good setup does stuff like this on purpose.

. . . And this is how they’re found. I’m going to be honest, I just threw this in here because it looks like Halbrand fell asleep while keeping an eye on Galadriel . . . she might stab him with that dagger, after all. Or maybe he just thinks she’s nice to look at. Given the way he’s eyeballed her all episode, I’m going to say he definitely thinks she’s nice to look at. But might also be capable of killing him. And I do like that vibe.

Did he even hand the dagger back? I know in the next episode Elendil has it, and Halbrand steals it from him to give it back to Galadriel. Hmmm. Questions. So many questions.

As an introductory episode, Halbrand raises more questions than his presence answers, and he isn’t readily painted as a good guy. Him rescuing her from drowning was really the only good deed he did. Or did he have an ulterior motive for that, too? Only time will tell.

[sweetteaanddragons]

Rings of Power, Episode Three: Welcome to Numenor

Spoilers ahoy.

- The visuals continue to be stunning; I particularly like the aesthetics of Numenor and the Harfoot festival.

- “You go tell Pharazon she’s escaped.”

- “I told him last time!”

- “Last time it was a dog.”

- I like the implication that this is something they have to tell Pharazon a lot. I kind of want to write a 5+1 about it.

- We get to meet Elendil and Isildur! And a sister that I don’t think is canonical but who I like so far. Actually, so far I like the whole family, and I’m excited by their inclusion.

- We also got a very solid Elros reference! I was a little disappointed he didn’t look more like Elrond, but otherwise 10/10, solid reference.

- Although their inclusion brings up one of my main issues with our current Elrond: I don’t dislike RoP’s Elrond.

I just.

Hm.

He has not convinced me that he will react to news of Elros’s descendants in a manner consistent with a man who, six thousand years after his brother’s death, was still fostering his descendants. And that matters, if we’re going to be introducing Elendil’s family and Miriel.

- So far my opinion of Miriel mirrors my opinion on Durin: I like her as a character, but I’m still deciding whether or not I like her as Miriel. Although her visit to her father and her hints that she might support Elendil more than she lets on are pushing me toward liking her more.

- I am not impressed by Galadriel in this episode. Galadriel being rasher and more imperious in her younger years is one thing, but failing to navigate a diplomatic situation this badly in court is another. Also, threatening to kill Elendil was not a good look.

- Nor were her repeated claims that the island - which was given to Men by the Valar, something the show supports - is something Men should be grateful to elves for.

- I know Adar is the obvious choice for our “Where’s Waldo?” hunt for Sauron, but I’m leaning more and more toward Halbrand as my personal favorite for it, both for the delicious irony of Galadriel encouraging him to go be king of future-Mordor, and for all the hints. (He’s excellent at wheedling what he wants out of people, he’s fascinated by the forges, he’s intrigued by the opportunities in Numenor, and some of his lines [I took it off a dead man, anyone?] would hit with a wonderful double age if this turns out to be the case.)

- If he turns out not to be Sauron, I might well write a fic where he is just so I can get some mileage out of this.

- The scene where the Harfoots listed their dead actually made me tear up a little, though I’ve got some mixed feelings on how the show is handling Nori’s dilemma. Of course she did the right thing by not leaving a stranger to die, but it seems very clear now that this decision had easily foreseen and serious consequences not just for her, but for her whole family; I would like to see her take that with a little more remorse.

- Definitely leaning toward Stranger = Gandalf now.

- Edited to add additional thought: I love how, when Malva reminds Sadoc that by their laws they should be exiling Nori, he stops and you can just . . . watch his facial expressions as he very clearly searches for a plausible reason that they are Not Going to Do That because he so very clearly doesn’t want to.

- Not a huge fan of the captive storyline in this episode, not because it was badly done - I thought the visuals were highly interesting - but because I wasn’t sufficiently invested in the other elves for the story beats to hit quite right and because the final fight scene was full of frustrating moments.

- Why are you hesitating? Why is our protagonist able to take an orc out with a stick when another elf can’t take out a single warg while armed with an ax?

- Not insurmountable problems, but definitely my least favorite storyline this episode.

Definitely still planning to continue to watch, although I highly suspect there will be more nerdy grumbling about lore in my future.

[lilyofthesword-writes]

Anomaly (Haldir Oneshot)

Summary: Haldir meets you, a member of the Fellowship seeking passage through Lothlorien. Though not a fan of humans, he is curious about you.

Pairing: Haldir x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,111

Warnings/Disclaimers: A curse word. Some violence due to the Battle of Hornburg/Helm’s Deep and Minas Tirith. Injury, mentions of blood.

A/N: This is told more from Haldir’s perspective. Based off another weird dream I had. Threw in a bit of the book as well. Really wanted to get this out cuz my boi needs more love.

Masterlist

Haldir gazed at you from afar while he was on watch that evening. You were... peculiar to him. When he came across the Fellowship trying to pass through the Golden Wood, he never expected to find a human woman in their midst. The world of man was an anomaly to him despite his numerous interactions over hundreds of years. Human women were not granted the same rights and privileges as the men, a foreign to him. This was not the way of Elven culture. Meeting you there was refreshing in a way.

In conversing with Aragorn, he learned you were a soldier of Gondor who had traveled alongside Boromir and joined the Fellowship. You were a fierce warrior but kept a calm air about you. The few human female fighters he had come across, be it on purpose or part of their nature, generally overcompensated, feeling the need to prove themselves constantly. You did not. When the Marchwarden and his company initially surrounded the Fellowship, everyone drew their weapons, ready for the next challenge. You opted to place your hands on Frodo’s and Sam’s shoulders to calm them while Merry and Pippin stood at either side. Instead of fear or anger, Haldir saw an analytical curiosity gleaming in your eyes.

Even now as he kept you in his peripheral, your eyes held a certain light, a light not caused by reflecting the bright moon. It was a kind of serenity most humans rarely portrayed. It didn’t break even as pounding of ambitious orc feet hit the forest floor below. All you did was gently shift your arms that held two sleep-ridden hobbits.

Since the platforms amongst the trees were not large enough to contain both the Fellowship and Haldir’s party together, you had to be split apart. Aragorn kept you, Legolas, Frodo and Sam while Boromir, Gimli, Merry and Pippin rested on a neighboring platform. You had taken to the Hobbits just as much Boromir had, your arms wrapped around them with their heads resting on either shoulder. How you bonded with the curious creatures so well, Haldir would never know. You managed to bring a semblance of peace to their aching hearts, enough so they could rest. He could not imagine it was an easy feat considering all the Fellowship had been through. It made him wonder what Lady Galadriel would make of you.

Upon reaching Caras Galadhon, you practically vibrated with childish delight. Although you had been to Rivendell, you had never seen anything quite like the capital city, that much Haldir was certain. The corners of his mouth tugged into the faintest of smiles when he saw your elated face. He turned away to restore his stoic facade, but unknowingly caught the attention of another. Aragorn shot him a knowing smirk as their eyes met momentarily. Haldir said nothing and continued to lead the way up the stairs spiraling the ancient trees.

Up the stairs, across some bridges and the Fellowship was in the presence of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Haldir bared witness to the interactions from the sidelines. He knew when Lady Galadriel entered each of their minds through their minute expressions. While most struggled to remain slightly neutral to her ministrations, others had a difficult time hiding their horror. You, on the other hand, parted your lips with an acute tilt of your head, not bothering to mask your wonder or amusement.

The meeting came to a close shortly after. Lady Galadriel’s gaze swept over the group, ultimately landing on you. Haldir knew she would call upon you later that evening. Until then, he was tasked with guiding the Fellowship to where they would be resting.

It was long after the others had gone to bed, after Frodo returned from the mirror, when Haldir learned he was correct. He spied you and Lady Galadriel wandering the halls, speaking softly amongst yourselves. What about, he could not say. He swiftly took the next pathway so as not to intrude on your private moment.

Marchwarden. Please come.

Always the obedient one, he turned himself around to join you both.

He greeted the pair of you with a bow.

“Marchwarden,” Lady Galadriel responded with a smile. “Would you be so kind as to escort our guest back to her company? The hour is late, and she deserves just as much rest as her friends.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Haldir held out his arm for you to take which you did after properly bidding Lady Galadriel a good night with a bow. He led you along the walkways, taking his time in doing so. This would more than likely be one of the few times he would be able to speak with you alone. The Fellowship would continue on their quest as soon as possible.

“These woods are truly a wonder. I have never experienced anything quite like it,” you started, breaking the quiet between you, voice so delicate it was hard to believe you were the warrior Aragorn made you out to be.

An agreeing hum quietly rumbled in his throat. “It is a gem of Middle Earth.”

“I must agree. I think I can understand your fierce desire to protect this place, your home.”

“I am sure you wish to protect Gondor just as much. Your dedication to the Fellowship is proof of that.”

“Despite the hardships,” you tried to hide the way you sucked in a breath, “I am glad to be a part of this. They have all become like family to me.”

Gandalf.

Hearing the grief lightly laced in your voice, Haldir stopped and pulled his arm away just enough to take your hand, turning to stand in front of you. With his free hand he cupped your cheek to catch the stray tear that had escaped your lashes. He was at a loss for words. Comforting others was not a skill commonly taught to Marchwardens. You caught his hand before he had a chance to think about retracting it, leaning into his touch. He closed the last bit of distance between you two and stroked the swell of your cheek with his thumb, your eyes shutting to bask in the moment.

An eternity or mere moments passed. Neither of you could tell by the time you finally spoke. “Thank you.”

The day your company was set to leave, Haldir felt a small pang in his heart. Why was he so bothered by your departure? He had only had the one major interaction with you. The rest of his time was spent either training or on patrol, and on patrol really meant him keeping an eye on the Fellowship. You just happened to be around when he took watch, or so he tried to convince himself.

He stood aside as Lady Galadriel offered her gifts to the travelers, giving them each something they would need or want. She bestowed on you a small Elven dagger, tiny enough to conceal in a boot with little discomfort. The Marchwarden, though content you had some extra to defend yourself with, hoped you would never need to use it.

Haldir then brought the Fellowship to the boats where everyone’s belongings were already packed and settled. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you while everyone said their proper farewells, but nothing stopped him from following down river to the borders. He and his troupe had orders to make sure you all reached them safely anyways.

Despite being hidden amongst the trees, it was like you knew he was there. Your head turned towards him as you passed the borders, not making eye contact but still unnervingly close to it. A tiny smile graced your lips before returning to the task at hand.

Helm’s Deep was not where the Marchwarden wanted to be, but he still had his orders. He was charged with leading an Elven army to help defend the kingdom of Rohan. Entering the gates, he was speaking with a perplexed King Théoden when what was left of your party rounded the corner. Your grin shone brightly in the dark when Aragorn surprised him with an embrace.

Haldir found himself both pleased and upset by your presence. While you looked to be in good health, he did not know your full battle prowess and as such was unsure how you would handle the soon-to-be battlefield. However, he never had the chance to voice his concerns as he needed to position his soldiers.

The rain poured when the standoff with the Orcs and Uruk-hai began, pinging off of helmets loudly. Haldir stood among his fellow Elves. Aragorn spread the rest of you out, sending you to the opposite end of Helm’s Deep where Haldir’s view was partially obscured. He could at least see you standing proudly alongside the other men. He could only imagine the fire in your eyes.

When the battle began, it raged with seemingly no good end in sight. A section of the wall had exploded with Aragorn near enough to be caught in the blast. Haldir could hear you bark your clear and concise orders to the men as you rushed to help Aragorn. Upon reaching his feet, Aragorn yelled out the order to retreat further in to better protect the caves the women and children were hiding in. Haldir belayed the orders in his native tongue to his soldiers.

He made sure the soldiers retreated but was unable to do so himself. Surrounded by the enemy on a high ledge, he slashed through them in an attempt to make a path for himself. His weariness had caught up with him as he was hit in the side with a jagged weapon.

“Marchwarden!”

He spun around as someone called him, ready to slice through his assailant. It fell to the ground as he faced it, revealing you with a now broken sword which you cast away. You stepped over the dead enemy to get a better look at him. Haldir clutched his side when you tried to check on his wound.

“How bad is it?”

“You should be retreating,” he tried to dodge the question.

“As should you,” you answered sternly, locking eyes with him. “Are you still able to keep moving?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We must go quickly.”

You reached out to help him when your breath hitched. You lurched towards him, grabbing his free arm to pull him forward, the motion catapulting you behind him. You ripped the dagger from your boot as you continued towards the Orc that had snuck up behind Haldir, and shoved it between the layers of its armor. In the creature’s last breath, it brought down its sword on your shoulder, forcing you to your knees.

Haldir rushed to your side, stabbing the Orc once more for good measure before shoving it off the ledge. He kneeled in front of you, clenching his jaw to ignore the pain in his side, and held you steady by your upper arms. Your eyes were glassing over while you desperately tried to keep your head up to look at him.

He called out your name. “We need to follow the others. Are you able to stand?”

You blinked a few times before hoarsely whispering, “I... I don’t... know.”

Your shoulder bled profusely as Haldir tried to help you stand. He took on most of your weight with your arm over his shoulder. You wouldn’t last much longer without a healer’s attention. Biting back his own pain, he practically carried you down the stairs to solid ground where Aragorn met you. He and what little was left of the soldiers who had not yet retreated formed around the two of you, furiously slicing at the Orcs and Uruk-hai that would stop you from reaching the main halls.

Soldiers who were protecting the doors ushered you inside immediately where Haldir brought you into the caves for the healers to watch over. One tried to make him sit momentarily to tend to his own injury, but he brushed them away. He could still continue. His ribs were probably bruised, if not broken, but his armor kept the damage from being life threatening. He promptly left to speak with Aragorn about the next plan of attack. He would be damned if he allowed any of those foul beings to pass into the caves to finish the job.

The battle was won, Gandalf having arrived with reinforcements right when they needed him most. When victory was assured, the Marchwarden wasted no time in returning to the caves where you lay unconscious. The healers bandaged you to the best of their abilities given the circumstances, and you were at least breathing steadily.

Much to the surprise of his fellow elves and your company, Haldir rarely left your side, even during the trek back to Edoras. He was still there when you woke safely in the Golden Halls of Meduseld.

Your eyes struggled to open as you stirred awake. “Wh-what happened?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep and lack of water.

“You were struck down, Mellon nin.” Haldir brushed a rogue strand of hair from your forehead and placed his hand on yours. “We were able to retreat to the caves.”

“And the battle?” Your arms shook as you tried to sit up and lean your weight on your good side. “The outcome?”

The Marchwarden tried to settle you back down, but you would not relent. “We were victorious. Gandalf arrived with reinforcements at dawn and drove the enemy out.”

You began to relax at that before another question flooded your mind. “What about-”

“Your friends are well,” he chuckled at your persistence. “They are preparing to leave for Isengard soon. Word has returned that it has fallen.”

Before you had a chance to ask another question, he helped you sit up the rest of the way so as not to aggravate your wound further with your stubbornness and handed you a glass of water. You drank it slowly despite your need to relinquish your thirst.

“Thank you.” You passed the glass back to him, your voice clearer now. “When do they leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, I believe,” Haldir answered and coaxed you to lay back down.

You nodded with a hum. “I suppose I should rest more, then. If there is a chance that Merry and Pippin are there and well, I would like to be there.”

“Mellon nin, your injury is not yet healed.”

“A mere shoulder wound will not prevent me from riding to Isengard,” you huffed.

“It is nothing to scoff at. Mellon nin, you almost died,” he pleaded with you, taking one of your hands in both of his.

“Haldir, I still have my duty to the Fellowship. I cannot abandon them.”

“Tending to your health is not abandoning anyone,” he spoke softly as he ran a thumb across your knuckles. “You will still be able to continue your quest when you have healed.”

You sighed deeply, looking to the ceiling as though collecting your thoughts. “I just... This is something I feel like I need to do.”

A deafening silence showered the room. Haldir studied you for a moment, your unencumbered hand fiddling with the sheets. Your mind was made up, and there was nothing he could do.

“Mellon nin,” he breathed, reaching for your face so you would look at him. “You will not let this go, will you?”

You shook your head with determined yet pleading eyes.

He squeezed your hand gently. “Then, I suppose all I can ask of you is to get your rest tonight.”

“Thank you.” With a smile, your thumb glided over his.

He made to stand so you could sleep in peace without him hovering. As he pulled his hand away, you gripped it tighter.

“Haldir? Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep? I am not sure I wish to be alone right now.”

Taken aback, he stood there dumbly before retaking his seat. “Of course, Mellon nin.”

The next morning, the remaining members of the Fellowship gathered at the stables. Aragorn was in the middle of trying to convince you to stay behind. Gandalf stood out of the way with Gimli, biting back a laugh at Aragorn’s futile efforts, while Haldir and Legolas prepared the horses.

“You will only worsen your injury,” Aragorn chided.

You folded your arms defiantly across your chest. “One trip on horseback is not so arduous.”

“She has already made up her mind, Aragorn. I doubt you will be able to change it,” Gandalf chimed in.

Haldir was tightening the saddle on the horse that would carry you so it was more secure when Legolas silently sidled up to him. “You have already said your peace, have you not?”

“What makes you say that?” Haldir twisted the saddle to test it.

“You have barely left her side since our victory. You must have spoken with her before now,” Legolas quipped.

“Indeed, I have.”

“Then, surely in your fondness of her you would have tried to convince her to stay behind.”

“Fondness?” Haldir stilled a moment before adjusting the straps again. “We are friends, Legolas. Nothing more.”

“Then why is it you have been meticulously preparing this one horse whilst I have already saddled three?” Legolas shot him a pointed smirk.

The Marchwarden felt himself flush all the way to the tips of his ears. “She is still injured. I- We cannot risk her hurting herself further.”

Legolas held his chuckle in his throat as a hum. “The sooner you stop attempting to fool yourself, Mellon-”

“Alright, you may join us!” Aragorn growled with a huff, stealing the attention of the bickering elves. “However, the moment a battle should arise, you are to return here.”

“Of course,” you complied, a stubborn edge to your voice.

Aragorn’s heavy sigh was littered with grit. “Are the horses ready?”

Haldir and Legolas nodded swiftly.

“Good. Let us be on our way.”

You made your way to the Marchwarden who was beckoning you over.

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to change your mind, Mellon nin?” he asked softly.

“I am, yes.”

You flashed a smile at him before placing a foot in the stirrup. Haldir remained hovering near you. Your shoulder strained as you willed your arms to reach the saddle, steadying yourself as you pushed down on the stirrup to lift yourself up. Midway up, you lost your grip as your shoulder suddenly gave out. Haldir was quick to press a hand to your back to stop your fall. He noticed how your jaw tensed to grind out what was obviously the pain of your wound, but you were still determined to mount the horse.

“Here.” He gripped your waist. “I apologize if this seems forward.”

He raised you enough so you could swing your leg over the saddle, letting you go the moment you had your balance.

“N-not at all. Thank you.”

You held the reins tightly as you settled down, knuckles turning white like it could make everything better. Haldir felt his chest tighten and covered one of your hands with his own, eyes filled with concern. Your head snapped down to meet his gaze. With a reassuring yet forced smile, you attempted to relax your muscles to conceal just how much your injury hurt, but he saw right through it.

With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, he took hold of the saddle and hoisted himself up behind you.

“What are you-”

“If your pain is that severe, you shall not ride alone,” Haldir interrupted, finality in his tone.

“Haldir, this is not necessary,” you argued as he pulled the reins from your hands.

Legolas slinked by with Gimli on their horse, sending you two a knowing smile. The Marchwarden’s blush bled to his ears again. He didn’t notice your own flushed face.

Haldir cleared his throat. “Let us go before we fall behind.”

The journey to Isengard was quiet and uneventful. Partway through the trip, you finally allowed yourself to relax, not realizing you were leaning back into Haldir. Though bemused, he was not about to protest.

Collecting Merry and Pippin was as simple as it was amusing. They were most excited about reuniting with their companions. It was on the ride back that you and Haldir overheard their teasing about you sharing a horse. Aragorn and the others bit back grins and commentary of their own.

The festivities that followed upon returning to Edoras were no better, the ale at least partly to blame. The Marchwarden and what remained of his soldiers were settled near Legolas who was currently in the middle of a drinking match with Gimli. You had yet to arrive. Eowyn was the only reason Haldir was not at your side forcing you to rest. She tended to your shoulder, promising to return you for the celebration. He would have preferred you did not come for the sake of your health, but as long as you were not overexerting yourself again, he would not complain.

He swirled the ale in his mug after taking a swig, mulling over recent events. Usually he was not one to allow his emotions control his actions, and yet he was doing that much more often now. He felt like he couldn’t help himself. There was this overwhelming desire to keep you safe, keep you close, regardless of the fact that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself. Haldir had caught a glimpse of your abilities at Helm’s Deep. There was a reason you had gone to Rivendell with Boromir and joined the Fellowship.

As if to break him of his spiraling thoughts before they grew out of control, one of his neighboring elves nudged his arm, winking and motioning him to look up. He lifted his gaze, about to make a remark for the elf’s teasing, when he saw Eowyn stepping into the room with you close at her side.

The music, shouts, laughter - they all faded away from his ears. You practically radiated light despite your nervous self on display. Eowyn had lent you one of her dresses, the fabric draping differently on your frame from hers yet no less perfect. She caught Haldir’s gawking and whispered something in your ear with a smirk. You glanced up to see him but dipped your head back down to where your hair curtained your tiny, bashful smile. Eowyn was quick to tuck the offending hair behind your ear. She giggled and murmured to you again, resulting in your flustered rush to join your companions.

Haldir focused on his ale once again. The elf who had coaxed him into looking up bumped his arm. Without saying a word, he was fully encouraging his captain to go to you. The elves in his company had never seen their normally reserved, stoic Marchwarden act like this before, and they thought it a fantastic development. They all joined in pestering him to at least ask you for a dance. It took a while, but his stubbornness crumbled, and he brought himself to his feet only to notice you were missing from your company. He scanned the crowds, hoping to spot you. Maybe someone else had already asked you to dance. That theory was thankfully doused when he spied the swish of your dress through a door leading outside.

Following and stepping out into the cool night air, he found you leaning forward on the wooden railing, gazing up at the stars. Your hair sparkled under the dim light. He realized tonight was the first time he had seen you without it tied or braided back out of the way.

“Mellon nin,” Haldir called to you softly so as not to startle you. “Are you alright?”

You turned to see him just outside of the door and nodded with a tired smile. “Yes. I just felt I needed some fresh air and a moment away from the crowd.”

“I apologize for disturbing you. I will-”

“No!” You cut him off quickly. “I mean... You did not disturb anything. You can stay if you would like.”

The corners of Haldir’s lips tugged upwards ever so slightly as he approached you, joining you in your previous stargazing. The peaceful quiet of the night muffled the festivities in the building. He felt you cover his hand with your own accompanied by a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Haldir, for everything,” your voice was just above a whisper.

“I should be thanking you, Mellon nin,” he shook his head, his other hand coming to grasp yours. “If you had not come for me, I would not be at your side now.”

A breathy chuckle passed your lips. “I suppose we are even then.”

Haldir hummed questioningly.

“Had you not brought me with you whilst retreating, then I would not be at your side now.” You parroted the last words with a grin.

The Marchwarden’s shoulders shook with a quiet laughter. “I cannot argue against that.”

You set your free hand on top of your conjoined ones as you leaned against his shoulder. A comforting silence befell you both. That is until you heard chittering giggles from behind. The pair of you turned to see Merry and Pippin poking their heads from the doorway, followed by Aragorn who proceeded to drag them back inside and shot you a wink as he did so.

Gondor had called for aid. Rohan answered. The army’s camp was set up, and Aragorn had a plan. Haldir received orders for his company to continue helping Rohan and meet with Elrond to receive more explicit directions.

The morning for departure arrived, and Aragorn was set to travel to the Paths of the Dead. Legolas, Gimli, Haldir and you were to join him. Haldir’s soldiers were to follow King Théoden into battle. You all stood wearily at the start of the trail, feeling the ominous air seeping down to the bone.

Haldir brushed his hand against your elbow for your attention. “May I speak with you privately?”

You looked up at him with worried eyes and nodded, probably guessing what this was about. He pulled you to the side just out of earshot of the others.

He steeled himself with a deep breath. “I must insist you do not join us, Mellon nin.”

“But Haldir, I-”

“Please, Meleth nin,” he desperately pleaded, not meaning to let the new term of endearment slip. Tenderly cupping your face with both hands, he continued, “None of us know how this will end. We... We may not come back. I beg of you to please stay with Eowyn.”

His voice was hushed, afraid it would break if he attempted to speak any louder. He knew his emotions were on full display, but he could not bring himself to care. What mattered was keeping you safe.

“Haldir...” you trailed off, grasping at his wrists with the utmost care to keep them in place. You gave a quick nod and tried to conceal your worried frown. “Alright. However. You had better- You all had better return.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I will do everything in my power to do just that.”

The Marchwarden was among the Fellowship in Minas Tirith when he saw a barely conscious Eowyn being carried into the Houses of Healing. Panic coursed through his veins. You were nowhere to be found. He rushed over to her as she was laid on a bed.

“Lady Eowyn, what happened?”

She nearly didn’t recognize him. All of her effort was put into focusing on his words.

“Lady Eowyn, please. Where is she?” He held his breath like it would help him hear better.

With a tiny shake of her head, she croaked quietly, “I am sorry... We... We were separated... in battle... I know not... her fate...”

Haldir stepped aside to allow the healers in. His heart was at a standstill. Had he known Eowyn was going to sneak her way into the army, he would have pleaded with you to return to Rohan. Your injury did not have the time to fully heal. Fighting in such a strenuous battle would do you no good. He needed to find you. He needed to know that you were well.

Bursting through the doors, he raced down the stairs for the lower levels, Aragorn shouting something after him. He did not hear a word. Canopies were set up and homes were open near the gate for the soldiers who were unable to reach the Houses of Healing. Haldir weaved through the injured in a desperate attempt to find you. He’d rather discover you here as long as you were among the living.

After a fruitless search under the canopies, he began entering the opened homes. He asked anyone able for a person matching your description. Nothing. Nothing until he reached the last home. There you were towards the back of the room. An older woman had just stepped away from helping you. The armor you had borrowed like Eowyn was in a pile to the side. He could see the bandage on your thigh through the tear in your trousers, but other than that you came away from the battle fairly unharmed. How you managed that with a preexisting injury was a mystery to him.

“Meleth nin,” Haldir breathed, making his way to you. This time he meant to use the term.

Somehow, you heard him over the throng of people, your gaze meeting his. “Haldir!”

You rose to your feet a little too quickly and swayed unintentionally to put your weight onto your good leg. Haldir darted to you just in time, bringing you into his embrace.

“You’re alright...” He rested his forehead on yours just like before you departed, completely forgetting those around you. “I was beginning to think my search was for naught.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his chest. “Haldir, I... I’m so sorry. I know you meant to keep me from harm-”

“Shhh,” he cooed, settling his chin on the crown of your head. “I know. There is no need to apologize. All that matters is that you are here and well.”

Your light chuckle vibrated through him. “You are much too patient with me.”

“I assume you are not familiar with that.”

“You would be right.” He could feel your cheeks lift as you smiled. “Most tend to leave when I grow stubborn.”

Haldir shifted his face so it rested in your hair, murmuring into your scalp, “I am not going anywhere, Meleth nin.”

The world of man was still an anomaly to him. You were an anomaly within that world, and he wouldn’t have you any other way.

[idjitlili]

No longer the Seth Rogen to my James Franco.

Obi-wan x senator!reader.

Summary: Imagine having to deny your feelings for the Jedi master and him denying his too, until another person tries to court you. Kenobi fears it is too late for him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff. Oh, sorry low-key some Bi aspects,only brief.

Requested by anon and @ahsokatanolovebot

A/n: Queen of Galadriel, Is made up, based on Gaga , and low-key Cate blanchett. Galadriel is not in Star Wars but, yeah.

Word count:1.7k

Knowing Obi-wan for most of your life made living out life difficult. Him being a Jedi and you being a senator; you didn't see him too often.  However, since the Jedi council was so involved with politics it was not impossible or unlucky.  Especially multiple times he had been assigned to watch over you or protect you from threats.

Knowing Kenobi for so long was inevitably going to lead to feelings. When did he not flirt? He'd flirt with anyone , if a glass of water was conscious he'd flirt with it. It was like he was programmed like it, maybe he was just horny from being a Jedi... They say no attachments but that doesn't mean no hookups? Doesn't matter Obi-wan never did that not that he had mentioned. You were sure he'd tell you, yeah you weren't around each other often did not mean you weren't close.

It didn't matter how hard you tried to escape your feelings, nothing worked, you couldn't exactly tell Obi-wan to bugger off. You'd be dead, he had many times saved your life,. As well as he did not deserve you pushing him away when he was nothing but a sweetheart.

Nothing between the two of you could ever happen, you knew him too well. He'd never give up being a Jedi...for you. You'd have to except that, no matter how much you loved him.

Though, there times , sorry pretty much all the time, when you felt like it wasn't just you, there was something between you two. Whether that was him just being flirty or just a really good friendship. No, no. , could not be love no way.

'We could be loversss."

"What d'you say?"

"We could be lovers, y/n."

"Stop it , Ben. Don't do this to me. What do you want me to say, you will be king?"

His lips inches from yours, his breath against your cheek. "And you, you will be queen."

"You're lying, I better not stay."

It was like he'd only want to flirt with you like he was the forbidden fruit.  You didn't know, how you'd hurt Obi-wan too. Other times, it would be you flirting him with him or both of you flirting back and forth. Depending on situations/moods.

"Obi-wan shh, my advisor is coming."  Your bodies pressed each  other in the small closet in your office,  The closet so small, Obi-wans face was pressed against the B crook of your neck as  he tried not to laugh. Your arms throw around his neck.  His lips tickling the nerves in the tissue of your neck, you had meant to twitch.

Oh, he already knew you were ticklish, you had just refreshed his memory, a smirk upon his face as his finger tips travelled up your body slowly.

"B-Ben!"

To say the least your advisor soon left the room, to give you privacy, she just didn't know Obi-wan. Take you in an office? He could never , it would have to be a pirate ship or something, if he ever did or if you ever wanted to do that task. However, tickling you in your office absolutely. 

After years of not knowing his true feelings, you tried to get back into work again. Well, until you met someone new. She was this lady that was well respected in her home world, that had travelled to Corellia where you were senator.  In fact she wasn't just well respected but she was the Queen.  She had travelled far to meet you, claiming she admired your work.

To say the least when you met her you stunned, this woman was stunning. She looked exactly like Lady gaga, which the hair she had none, yet a crown rested against her head. She radiated dominance. Instead of dresses and jewels  as you might expect for a Queen. Her body was laced with armour , her glove though was covered with diamonds and at the end of her pointer finger there was a knife type thing.

She was a very beautiful woman, you were shocked at her behaviour at dinner, she was flirting with you. More than Obi-wan.

"Now Senator y/l/n, I must know is there anyone in your life at the moment?" The simple strokes of her fingers on the table cloth, leaning back causally waiting for your response.

"Oh, uhm, no one and please just y/n." A nod of her head, as she watched you become a little nervous.

"Very well, but you seem unsure."

"I was there was someone, they cannot be with me even if they did want to, it's against their culture."

"Oh, that's very unfortunate for such a beautiful woman." You had turned from your food to look behind you before turning back to the woman.

" Oh-I, sorry , I thought you were looking in the mirror."

After that there were a few more dinners, each more she was more forward to flirt. By the last one you knew she was not just doing it for no reason she had an intention. From then on you'd receive flowers, food, clothing, you name it. You knew she was offering a courtship, but you didn't know whether to accept.

Rowena was really a gorgeous woman and presented her feelings freely. It was just not the same, not like Obi-wan, he had never showed any sign that he would give up being a Jedi for you, at least Rowena actually liked you. You could not shake Obi-wan.

The last thing you expected was Obi-wan's appearance, when you were packing supplies for another planet on lockdown via the empire, alongside Rowena's help. Unlike most Queens Rowena was hands on , and cared deeply for all living things.

"Y/n?" You had thought the voice had been in your head, you felt like he would not bugger off lately, way he using Jedi minds tricks on you? So, you'd be in love with forever. The slight jab in the side from Rowena confirmed you weren't the only one who heard.

Turning around on the balls of your feet, face to face with Obi-wan, a tired Obi-wan. His body slightly hunched , bags under his eyes-don't fall for it.

"Obi-wan you're back." Rowena had turned to look at the man too, noticing your face, your tone , this was the man you spoke of. Her eyes catching Obi-wan his eyes scanning her briefly before looking back to you.

"Oh! Sorry, Obi-wan this is Rowena-The Queen of Galadriel, w-we ar-"

"Friends, unless you choose to accept, Y/n. Nice meeting you...Kenobi." With that she had left you with Obi-wan not before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You hadn't know what she had been planning, she knew you were hopelessly in love with Obi-wan even if she did habour feelings for you, she was going to help you.

"Accept what?" He had gotten closer, his heart was in his stomach, that was not friendly behaviour , he knew it, her longing stares on you, they way she said his name, gave him chills.

"Her courtship."

"O-oh, I am happy for you. I am just here for a week, to help." His eyes avoid yours, as he left, he wasn't happy. In fact, you had left heading to your room, your eyes heavy again, you were right he didn't like you.

Your pda with the Queen became more frequent, well it was just holding hands, laughing and the occasional hug. Every time Obi-was saw his heart felt like it was going to explode , he had never felt such jealousy, heartbreak, anger. He couldn't stand it no longer , he hadn't been there three days, you hadn't accepted the courtship let.

However, he feared it was too late. He couldn't stand it no longer, he was going to go back , see Anakin shove himself back into work. That did not happen simply because Asajj Ventress had turned up with a bunch of droids to prevent any supplies to be sent out.

That exact moment you had been walking with a smoothie in your hand. Jumping out of your skin, and thrown the smoothie all over Ventress. She did not appreciate that, so you were captured. Obi-wan had heard a commotion and that was it, he followed the sound of... talking...no fighting but with flirtatious remarks. Oh no! The disgrace.

He had decided he had enough and hid behind walls, droids, lampposts whatever he could. To say the least he had not expected to come across Rowena fight Ventress, wait was this an enemies to lovers , oh it is.. what was angry flirting quickly turning into them kissing, as Rowena gestured for Obi-wan to come out and help you.

Pulled to your feet, your restrains removed as all the droids were destroyed, Rowena had turned her head back to you, grinning. Her elbow locked with Ventress' it was clear she had forgotten or had lost interest in her mission, now in the company with a Queen leaving you with Obi-wan. 

Your eyes meeting his, his hands still holding yours from helping you up, his eyes drowning, his face tired. Your skins touching warmth spreading through your body like blood, his callousness fingers gripping yours.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I cannot watch you be with someone else; when I-I l-love you."

"I cannot be with someone else; I love you."

Okay, so you were almost Queen, Obi-wan was almost right about that, it wasn’t long after that moment the temple was destroyed and you and Obi-wan ended up in Tatooine, forever. Well, not forever...

[finrad]

Keeping Secrets - Haldir x Reader

So you are Lord Elrond's child in this oneshot just so you know.

Warnings: none

0o0o0

You were eating your breakfast with your family one day when your father, Lord Elrond announced that you were going to be visiting family in Lothlórien.

"Perhaps a nice trip to the forest will lift our spirits." he told you and your siblings. "Besides, your mam and dâd will be pleased to see you all in good health."

"I do believe that I'm up for a trip." said Arwen, your older sister. Your brothers, Elladan and Elrohir nodded at what the fair elven lady stated.

Then, you nodded. A trip to someplace other than your home would help you relax and create good memories. The last time you went to Lothlórien was long ago, before your mother sailed into the west.

"Pack your bags then, for we must part soon." your father said. "Go on, as we are leaving tomorrow morning."

In your bag, you packed several outfits, some hair ties, a few snacks for the journey, a brush, and a copy of your favorite book. You weren't too sure how long you were going to stay in the elven forest, so you just made an assumption that it was going to be for about a few weeks.

After you finished packing your stuff you went to where the rest of your family was to discuss the trip. It was so weird that you were going to go on a sudden trip, and you needed some plans. Plans would help you prepare for the stay.

"My children, we will remain in the forest for around sixty days." your father announced. Sixty days seemed to be a lot, but you knew that they were going to pass quickly. That's what always happens when you have a good time anywhere. Time flies.

Soon came the day that you first set off from Imladris. There was to be a long journey, and you hoped that no orc would attack you. It's unfortunate that Middle-earth is growing darker, but it's happening. In fact, the reason why your mother needed to sail to Valinor was because she was attacked and tortured by orcs.

As you went through the Pass of the Caradhras, your stomach felt sick. This was the place where your mother was attacked by orcs. The cold air stung your skin as you moved along, and you felt horrible. You knew that everyone else felt bad based on the looks of their faces. This terrible place gives you all terrible memories.

After many days of journeying, you and your family finally made it to the borders of Lothlórien. There, you were formally greeted by some of the marchwardens. One of them stood in front of them. He was handsome, and you were instantly interested.

Back at home, your father had been considering putting you in an arranged marriage. You didn't like it, but you listened to your father. He could make the right choice. Then you saw that one marchwarden. He had enchanted you.

The marchwarden began to speak to you and your family. He did that while staring at you. It made you blush heavily. His facial expressions as he spoke looked cool and calm. The elf seemed to be a pretty collected guy. He had to be, as he was a marchwarden. Keeping calm under pressure was something that he needed to do on the job.

"Welcome to Lothlórien, my lords and ladies." said the marchwarden. "I am Haldir, and I shall be leading you to the lord and lady of the forest." Even his voice was great. Valar, you wanted to be with him. You couldn't say that you were in love, but you were attracted to him.

Haldir had lead you and your family to Caras Galadhon. It took a while to get there, so you decided to get the guts to finally speak to him.

"Mae govannen, Haldir." you told him in elvish. "Goheno nin, ach lín gar thîr maer. Lín farthacened nin." You then began to blush madly, due to the words that you said.

"Hannon le, hiril nin. Eithro hirlín bain." Haldir told you. This made your cheeks turn redder. "Cí boem minnameleth rhû. Mein, man i eneth lín?" You then told him your name, and held his hand. His hands were cold, and so were yours. As you had his hand in yours, you tried to make sure that your father wasn't looking.

"Haldir, we need to hide this. My father cannot learn of this." you warned. "He's been thinking about putting me in an arranged marriage, and I don't think he'll like us."

The elf nodded sadly. "That is fine. As long as we can grow a relationship, we will be fine." he said quietly, letting go of your hand and walking away.

You now realized how you didn't want to marry for power or status or anything of the kind (although you never did). Right now, you wanted to marry for love. Obviously you didn't love Haldir, but you were developing an infatuation for him, and it was slowly growing stronger.

As you all slowly walked to Caras Galadhon, you continued to speak to Haldir. That elf had a voice that you could listen to all day. Hopefully, the others wouldn't notice you sneaking a little smile to Haldir and maybe brushing your fingers against his.

Finally, you all made it to Caras Galadhon. There were tall trees and plants everywhere. You were being lead to your grandmother and grandfather, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. They were very old and wise, for they lived during the Elder Days.

When you stood before the lord and lady of the forest, Haldir whispered into your ear, "Meet me by my home tonight. I'll be standing outside, waiting for you." You nodded, feeling a little excited for tonight.

Your grandparents began to talk to you and your family, welcoming you to the forest and telling you how much they missed you. Truly, you loved them. Sometimes, they would tell tales of the First Age and you were so fascinated by them.

The lord and lady told you that you were free to explore the place. That was when Arwen walked up to you. She had a sweet smile on her face.

"So, I saw you with that warden earlier." she teased. You gulped, realizing that she watched the handholding and the loving gazes. Hopefully, she was the only one who noticed. "Have you already began a love affair with him?"

Instead of lying, you decided to tell her the truth. "Well, sort of. It's not complete yet, and we're only trying this thing out to see if it works." you confessed. "If it does, then I'll consider courtship."

Arwen gasped. Of course, she knew that your father planned to arrange a marriage, meaning that he most likely wouldn't be too happy if he found out that you wanted to marry Haldir. "Courtship? What will ada think of it?"

"I don't know." you plainly stated. "That is why I am trying to keep it a secret. Do not tell anyone. Not even Elladan and Elrohir." Your sister nodded. She was trustworthy, so you knew that she wouldn't let a single word slip.

Later that day, you looked around Caras Galadhon in the dead of night. Everything looked to be silver, and the sky looked a very dark blue. Haldir must be waiting for you in his home, so you looked around until you found an elf sitting outside of a little home, all by himself.

There he was, sitting in a chair. As soon as he saw you, he smiled. Goodness was he the cutest. You ran up to him and greeted him. While he greeted you, you were lead inside his home. It was a neat place, with everything organized. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Welcome to my home." Haldir told you. "I do hope that it is to your taste. You are a lady of Imladris and Lórien, so I suppose that this isn't as nice as your home."

"It's lovely." you said, looking around. "I love how tidy it is. So, where shall we go?"

"Perhaps we should sit on my little seat over there. There is enough space for the two of us to sit together comfortably." Haldir sat down in a soft couch. You then sat next to him. Your arm touched his. The elf's skin was cool, and you liked it. This was comfortable.

There was a moment of silence as Haldir began to pull you to his laps and braid your hair. Braiding hair was an elvish custom that can show love and adoration. Gently, he split your hair into three strands and began to twist each one beautifully.

While he braided your hair, he grabbed some gems from a little box and placed them in your hair. He was proud of his work. Nobody spoke as he braided your hair. You just sat there waited for him to finish. When he did finish, he stood you up and showed you your reflection in a nearby mirror.

You looked nice. "Wow... I love it." you muttered, giving Haldir a smile that he believes can outshine the Moon and the Sun. Slowly he was falling in love with you, and you did the same for him. "Now, let me braid your hair."

Haldir sat on a chair while you stood up and braided his hair. It was so soft, like all elves' hair, and you just wanted to mess with it all night long. With each twist you made, the more of a connection you felt with Haldir. As if you and him were destined to be together.

During the night, the two of you stayed together and chatted. You hadn't realized that your father was wondering where you were while you sat with Haldir. You were too busy having a wonderful time with the elf that you were now in a relationship of some sort with.

"Maybe we should do this every night." you said, giving Haldir your hand to hold.

"Yes, we definitely should." Haldir replied.

The next morning, you left Haldir's home after giving him a quick peck on the cheek and went to see your father. Based on the look of his face when he saw you, he seemed concerned.

"Where have you been?" your father asked. "I haven't seen you since yesterday afternoon."

"I was... exploring the forest all night." you lied. He couldn't know about you and Haldir. So you had to lie. "The thing is, I lost track of time."

"Alright then..." your father muttered. "As long as you come see me every morning, you can do whatever it is you do at night."

And so you took your father's advice. Every night, you would go into Haldir's home and spend the night laughing with and talking to him. Some nights you would flirt and grow to love one another. At one point, you two shared a quick kiss. No, it wasn't full of passion and desire, but at least it was a kiss. At least it was something.

You tried to spend every second that you can with Haldir before you had to go home. Sixty days with him was amazing. He taught you a lot about love and what it meant to feel it. That is because you ended up falling head over heels for him. He became the one elf that you are to love.

Then, there were only two days until you had to leave Lórien. You really didn't want to leave Haldir. Because you knew that if you left him, you would possibly never be able to see him ever again. And that would be a massive dagger to the heart.

So, that night, you decided to walk to his house for what you hoped wasn't the last time and saw him, happy to see you. You walked inside his home and the two of you sat on the floor with your legs crossed.

"Haldir, I understand that we have been in this relationship for many days now," you nervously began. "so I now believe that I can say this. I love you. And now I don't want to leave you. But alas, I might have to leave you, for my family and I are departing soon."

"I love you, too. And it is upsetting that you must leave." Haldir responded. "But, you said that we must keep this a secret. And if we must go separate ways to keep this hidden, then we have to do it, no matter how much we hate it."

You sighed. No longer did you want to hide this. You had to tell your father that Haldir was the one for you, and you wanted him, no matter what he says.

"What if I don't want to keep this hidden anymore? I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you, Haldir." you told him. "If I had to choose between keeping things secret and being with you, I'd always choose you."

Haldir then leaned in closer to you so his cool breath hit your lips. "Then we shall tell your father." He then grabbed the back of your head with one of his hands and brought you in for a kiss.

This kiss was full of passion. Your hands went to his hair, and you played around with it. His scent was of trees and flowers, which was one that you loved very much. The taste of his lips was one that you couldn't describe, but you liked it nonetheless. You and Haldir soon had to separate just to get some air.

"Wow, I never knew that you were a good kisser." you breathed. There was a feeling of butterflies in your stomach as your lips were on his, and a feeling of joy in your veins.

"What can I say, I am a natural." Haldir joked. You giggled at his remark with pink cheeks. "Now, let's go tell your father that we're in love..." He looked at how dark it was outside. "...in the morning."

Tonight, you decided to cuddle with your lover. Right now, you were a little nervous. About what your father would think of this. Well, you did, until Haldir distracted you by kissing your nose.

Then, morning came. It was time to tell your father the truth. With your hand grabbing your lover's hand, you ran to where your father was to tell him the news. You were so scared, but you needed to do this if you truly wanted to be with Haldir.

As soon as he looked at you, he noticed that you were holding hands with Haldir. So, he began to piece things together and realized what you were going to announce.

"Father, I have fallen in love." you confessed. "Haldir, a warden of Lórien, has taken my heart, and I might marry him in the future. I understand that you planned to arrange a marriage for me, so you may be upset, but I love him. And I want to marry for love. I'm sorry if I disappointed you, ada."

Your father had glossy eyes. His little elfling was all grown up now, and he could hardly believe it. "There is no need to be sorry." he said. "If you truly love him, then you can marry him. I would never stop you from marrying the one you love. I want to see you happy."

You let out a sigh of relief. "So, I suppose that I'll have to stay here." you said. "I'll miss you, and Arwen, and Elladan, and Elrohir. I'll miss home."

"I'll miss you, too." your father told you, with tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "But if you're happy with him, then I am happy. And believe me, I'll try to visit you as much as I can. We all will."

0o0o0

Translations

Mae govannen, Haldir. Goheno nin, ach lín gar thîr maer. Lín farthacened nin. = Well met, Haldir. Forgive me, but you have good looks. You satisfy my eyes.

Hannon le, hiril nin. Eithro hirlín bain. Cí boem minnameleth rhû. Mein, man i eneth lín? = Thank you, my lady. I also find you to be beautiful. Perhaps we should enter a love affair. First, what is your name?

[thekisforkeats]

An Avatar No More (Let All the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Three)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Character death (mentioned), character injury (mentioned), body transformations, birds, sacrifice (sort of, I mean, everyone lives) 

Summary: Jon is a warlock who thinks they're a druid, and they're finally meeting their patron. Well, their original patron, not the nasty Watcher that tricked them into ending the world, that guy's a jerk and we have no truck with him.

Avatar powers or no, Jon will yell at eldritch beings to protect Martin because they need their tea-making poet alive and well, dammit.

——————————————————-

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Jon wakes to a world that looks as if it’s had all the color leached out, all blacks and whites and grays. Martin’s arms are still around them, holding them, but not as tightly as they dimly recall from before.

Martin seems to be asleep, his expression pained and his breathing shallow. He is vibrant despite the lack of color, standing out from his surroundings, almost verging into sepia rather than mere monochrome. Jon, too, seems almost as vibrant though perhaps not quite as much so.

There is a nip of cold in the air, and that by-now familiar feeling of being watched.

Jon slowly disentangles themself from Martin’s grasp, doing their best not to wake the sleeping man. They can see, and that is odd--didn’t Martin stab them in the eye? Eyes? They can barely remember, everything after stepping into the Panopticon is a blur except the conversation with Martin, as though the words were somehow burned into their memory while all other sensations faded during the trip to wherever they are now.

They take a moment, blink slowly, press their hands gently to their eyes. And yes, they have eyes, and there’s no blood on their face, and now that they look there’s no scars on their hands, either. No burn marks on the right hand, no worm scars on either one. Their skin is whole and unblemished.

This bothers them more than, perhaps, it ought.

They sit up and look around to take a greater survey of their surroundings. Jon and Martin are on the balcony of a large fortress set on the edge of a cliff in whatever this strange realm is. The sky above is an inky black, devoid of sun or moon or stars, and the landscape beyond the balcony is bleak: jagged mountains behind and a flat plain dotted with twisted spires below.

It occurs to them that it might be reasonable to assume they're in Hell.

“That’s… disconcerting,” Jon says aloud, as much because they are used to narrating their life as to hear the sound of their own voice. They stand, slowly, checking to see if there is a room attached to the balcony. Usually balconies are attached to chambers, though with Hell, it’s possible that this will be another level of torment: impractical architecture.

The balcony turns out to be just an extension of a room with no doors or outer wall. The room is shrouded in darkness, but it looks... big… ish? With maybe a table and some chairs and some sort of dias beyond that?

Jon leans down to place a hand on Martin’s cheek briefly before they begin to move into the room. “Rather spacious if… empty accommodations for a Hellscape.” Again they're speaking partly for their own benefit, but the darkness of the room is deep enough to hide someone who might respond if they speak.

And then there is indeed a voice, coming from the shadows around the dais: “This is not Hell. That place is rather more… torturous for mortals to exist in.” The voice seems… vaguely female, but with a strange, almost croaking sort of undertone.

“Ah, there you are.” Jon starts looking around for the source of the voice. “That’s good to know, that we are not dead. I take it you are who we have to thank for that? Since this is your domain.”

As Jon moves into the room, the shadows seem to shift and a form appears sitting on a large chair on the dais, pretty much a cowled cloak. It would be spooky if Jon weren’t becoming inured to these things.

“Oh, no, you are quite dead,” the voice replies from the depths of the cloak. “He is not, yet, but he will be soon enough.”

Jon looks back toward Martin, who looks to be in more pain and maybe a little less vibrant than he was. “Stop that!” they shout. They move back to Martin and kneel down, running their hands over the taller man’s hair, trying to soothe him. “Save him!”

Martin relaxes at the touch, but only slightly. He still looks pained, troubled.

The voice from the cloak says, “I have done nothing to him. He chose to follow you through the gates of death, and so… he is dying.” There is an odd level of unconcern in her voice. Not malice, per se, and not indifference, but rather what one might expect from an avatar of the End, regarding someone dying.

“And you can’t do anything?!” The indifference in the voice angers Jon. How dare this cloaked wannabe Grim Reaper just ignore their plight? And though they might not admit it, they have become used to getting their way in most things, to having power to shape the world as they wish. “This is your world; insulate him from the ravages of its effects!”

“Why should I?” The voice is more curious than malicious. “I have no hold nor tie to him; where once he belonged to Araushnee, in this form he belongs more to Oghma, or perhaps Sune, and I have little truck with either.”

“Because he is important to me!” Jon hisses, still keeping contact with Martin. “And you clearly have some attachment to me or I wouldn’t be here. Is that not enough, or are you so detached from all compassion as to not understand the intricacies of companionship?”

The figure moves out onto the balcony and Jon can see it now, cowled and hooded, with a glimmer of light from within the hood: eyes, maybe. “I understand compassion. And I understand companionship. And I understand that the latter has rarely led to much but tragedy, when pursued too fervently.”

The woman(?) looks down at the two of them. “He will not fade from your view. He will become part of this place, and if you are so concerned I will take him into my employ. You will be able to see him still, between the work I have for you to do.”

Of course. Some new eldritch horror expects Jon to work for them without even knowing what they're getting into. Lovely.

Jon stands, placing themself between the cowled figure and Martin. “No. You will save him and ensure that he lives. He didn’t sacrifice himself just to be controlled by another one of you.” They are shaking with both fear and rage. “You want my help, fine. Another Eldritch power wants my hands for its machinations…” They laugh. “What else is new? But he deserves better. Name a price for his survival and freedom, and I will pay it.”

The eyes under the hood seem to narrow. “There is a way to save him, to give him life enough to survive here and to survive the journey you are yet to take. But it would require…” A pause, a deep, heavy sigh. “I had thought to give you more time as something you would still recognize as… yourself.”

The woman gestures, and a mirror appears, so that Jon can see just exactly what she means.

The mirror allows them to see colors, but only in the mirror itself. Jon still wears the clothing they'd been wearing in the Panopticon (and much longer before that), and they look… themself, they're short and slim, their skin dark, but their eyes have become shining gold. Their long black hair shimmers now, and their ears are… pointed? Yes, elongated and pointed, and they realize their form is even slimmer than they remember, now that they look closely.

They appear to be, for all the world, an elf.

Jon puts a hand to their ears to see if it is real. How had they missed that, while trying to be sure they were whole and alive? “What? What… happened to me? You turned me into an elf? Like Tolkien? Why?”

“Tolkien…?” There’s a pause, as if the woman is accessing information; it reminds Jon, oddly, of themself. “Ah. No. I have done nothing, really; this is what you were before you went to that world. You have become something like what I once was, Tel-quessir. I believe in the common parlance the term is ‘sun elf’ or ‘high elf.’” Galadriel more than Legolas, then.

Jon tries to make sense of what the woman is saying as they take stock in the mirror but they can’t understand more than rudimentary levels. They truly had come to rely on Knowing as a crutch. “Went to that world? What you once were?” More questions than answers, and little is more irritating to them. They return their attention to the cloaked figure. “And this has what to do with saving Martin?” That is what’s important right now, after all.

The woman’s words become suddenly clipped. “You were mine. From birth, you sought out new stories, new experiences, new memories, as many as you could find, to bring them back here when you died. A spark, a soul sent into the dark, to try to expand my reach to the other worlds. And, I admit, to try to bring balance to a world so overrun with evil; an attempt at a ray of good to balance that out.” A pause. “I suppose it succeeded, mostly, if only by spreading that evil out into the realms. But the powers there, they tried to… claim you. The Spider, the Watcher…”

There is a rustling under the cloak, a sound of many wings. The voice rises, angry. “And then the Watcher stole you from me, to carry out its perverse warping of your world! It would not do, but you already had the means to combat what the Watcher tried to make you, Archivist. And so, here you are. And yet, you do not even know who you truly are.”

There is more rustling of wings beneath the cloak. The woman is clearly angry.

“Wait… you’re saying I’m from here… originally? Not human?” Jon touches their ear again, a nervous gesture. “And I was your agent… meant to be your eyes and ears until Jonah Magnus…” They have to stop, the anger that rises in them is so great, “did what he did.”

Jon’s tone turns insistent, and they wish they could still compel answers. “Then tell me. What am I? What are you? Feathers, a cloak, pinpoints of light that could be eyes. Do you have a name?”

“You are not from here,” the woman says, and her voice has become… melancholy. “We were from a place of light and beauty, once. It is my fault that you came here, but you never complained, before. And you were never meant… that ritual was never meant to happen. I never meant you to experience… any of what the Watcher made you do. But at least now the pain of all those you encountered is catalogued, and perhaps in time, they can be cleansed of the pain and know peace.”

Another deep sigh. “As for what I am…” The rustling intensifies, and then suddenly the cloak explodes into shadow. Beneath is not a woman at all--beneath is a massive collection of ravens. They fly around Jon, all flapping wings and eyes, and one in particular--the one with the eyes they've been seeing under the hood--seems to hover in the air in front of them. It speaks in a voice that booms off the nearby mountains:

“I AM THE RAVEN QUEEN.”

Jon stumbles back a bit, and narrowly manages to avoid falling on top of Martin. They haven't been this terrified since… what, since before the Change? Since well before the Change. But terrified they are. “A-an-and I’m… I’m… o-one of your… servants… and extension of you… one-one-one of… of… those?” They gesture at the ravens flying about them.

The ravens settle all around the balcony, and the one that has been speaking stays where it is, as if to give them space. “No. I told you--what you are now is what you were one, long ago, before… before my failed attempt to become a goddess and stop the conflict between Corellon and Araushnee failed.”

She sighs, and her voice is full of ancient, terrible sadness. “You came to me and offered your help to stop that conflict. You gave much of your life and essence to try to fuel the ritual, along with many others. Like them, you believed in our cause. The gods were warring, and it had to be stopped, or the Tel-Quessir were doomed to split apart forever. We would save the Tel-Quessir from the doom we foresaw. I would travel to Arvandor, gain the attention of the gods, and stop the war.” A long sigh. “I was a fool, and it was all of you who paid the price.”

Jon is starting to put the pieces together. “So… in order to save Martin, what do I have to do? Give up this… essence again? Return the restoration you bestowed on me? Become something else? Something that can still be your hand, but different?”

The raven cocks its head in almost a nod. “This is what you were, before my failed ritual. This is what I purified you into becoming again so you could go to the place where last you lived. I had wanted to give you time as this again, a lifetime of reward for your service, but…” The raven looks to Martin. “You have brought your reward back with you, I see. You always did prize love above so much else.”

“In order to save his life, I must siphon off yours. Return him to what he is, and perhaps allow him to be more, something closer to what he was long, long ago. And return you… to what you were. Shadar-kai. Shadow fey.” A pause. “It is not pleasant. The color will leech from you, even in the living world. The shadows will cling to you. In the living world you may look young and fresh, but here you will see your true state: cursed, aged, withered.”

The raven gives a long, deep sigh. “You may say that you will endure all of that and more to save your lover, but you will lose many of the emotions that now drive you. You will be bitter and grim. Others will see you as cold and pitiless. Most of my people who go out into the world care little for their physical bodies; they know they will return here, and be reborn. Some embrace physical pleasures, others test their limits, and some strive for glory in their lives.”

“You… never did much of any of that. You were usually content to watch, to listen, to study, and to bring me back what you found. You played tricks, sometimes.” Is the raven… amused? Yes, by the glitter in its eye, it is. “You have always retained your sense of humor, regardless of everything else.” The amusement fades. “But you may lose your love for him. Even if you do not--even if it is the one thing you cling to--he may lose his love for you, on finding you so horribly changed.”

Jon looks over their shoulder at Martin for a moment and then back to the raven before them. “Done. It may be as you say, but he’ll be alive. And that’s what’s important.” They sigh. “He has to survive. He’s given up too much to not survive. Do it.”

The ravens all flock back into the form they’d been in before and the shadows warp around it like a hood and cowl once more. The Raven Queen nods--or seems to--and sighs. “Very well.” She reaches out with one “hand” to Jon and the other “hand” to Martin’s sleeping form

A bright white light begins to flow out of Jon and into Martin. Jon doesn’t feel lessened so much as different, as though the shadows here seep in to replace the light that flows out. They can see the color fade from their form in the mirror. Their skin becomes a pallid grey, their eyes become wholly black--no pupil, no sclera, something far more befitting the avatar they became. And they do, indeed, twist and wither and age, though they feel no less strong and vital.

And Martin… wakes up.

Next Chapter

[thewarriorandtheking]

A Winter Tale

Imagine spending a winter night with Thorin in a cozy cabin deep in the woods...

One of the first Warrior and The King stories I wrote and still one of my favorites

Pairing: Thorin x oc 

The Warrior and The King Masterlist 

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

The snow was falling more heavily now, swallowing the sound of the horse’s footfalls. The trees bent their branches over the path, heavy with their wintry burden. The quiet of the forest was almost palpable, as if holding its breath. The afternoon was wearing on, it would be dark soon. Thorin Oakenshield was about to ask Kaylea Wolf if she was sure of the direction when a little cabin appeared in front of them. It looked well-kept and tidy, firewood neatly stacked in the shed on the side, the windows shuttered. Snow was drifted against the door, no one had been here recently.

Kaylea gave Thorin a hand down and dismounted her horse. Hector appeared out of the woods, carefully sniffing around. Thorin kicked the snow away from the door and opened it, gave the interior a quick glance. Low bed, table and chairs, woodstove with kindling stacked beside. He grabbed a broom from inside the door to sweep the snow off the little porch.

“I will get a fire started, if you want to see to your horse,” Thorin said, putting aside the broom to grab an armful of firewood. Kaylea nodded and led her horse under the shed. When she opened the cabin door a short time later Thorin had a fire going, the stove already beginning to radiate heat. Kaylea added her coat to the rack next to Thorin’s, dropped her saddle by the door. Her wolf followed her in and curled up next to the bed. Kaylea took a bag of coffee out of her saddlebags and put the kettle on to boil, then stood beside the stove warming her hands. Thorin came up beside her, he took hold of her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers.

“It is funny,” Thorin said. “For most of my life I dreamed of the halls of Erebor, I swore when I returned I would never leave. Now when I am there I dream of being in a cabin in the woods with you.”

Kaylea laughed. “I am quite sure that is not true! There is no Dwarf who prefers the woods to his halls of stone.”

“I prefer to be with you, my love,” Thorin drew her close, he moved a wisp of hair off her face. “One day I hope you will join me in my stone halls.”

“Why must we always have this same conversation?” Kaylea rolled her eyes. “You already have a Queen who has given you two beautiful children, you have no cause to release her from her vows. And I cannot remain in Middle Earth with you.”

“I have cause to…” Thorin began, but just then Hector gave a low growl, his eyes focused on the door. He stood up, his hackles partly raised. There was a swift knock. Thorin and Kaylea looked at each other, Kaylea put a hand on her sword and moved within striking distance of the door. Thorin lifted the latch and opened it.

On the step was an old man, wrapped in a heavy brown cloak, his hood pulled low against the weather. He was wearing a mantle of snow and carrying a soft satchel, in his hand was a long wooden staff.

“Good evening! I am glad to see you are here,” The strange figure said. “May I impose to warm myself by your fire for a little while?”

Thorin stepped aside so the man could enter, “Of course,” he said politely. “Please take a chair. We have just arrived, we should have coffee in a few minutes.”

“That would be splendid,” said the man. He threw back his hood and shook his cloak, what Thorin had taken to be snow on his shoulder was actually a white owl, which also shook itself, then looked around blinking its yellow eyes. As he went to shut the door Thorin caught a glimpse of a large animal in the trees.

“There is a bear outside,” he said to Kaylea.

“Do not worry, she is with me,” said the visitor. He was quite tall and lean, his brown beard streaked with grey. He wore a felt hat with a narrow brim and a sprig of holly stuck in the band. Although there was much grey in his hair he seemed somehow young, his green eyes sparkling. The man turned to Hector and bowed,“I am sorry I startled you, Master Wolf.” The wolf lowered his head in response. He took a seat by the stove, smoothing his cloak. An ermine poked its head up out of his hood and looked around, then disappeared. “Well, this is very nice!” The stranger exclaimed. “It is good to know that there are still some who know how to treat a fellow traveler in these dark times.”

Thorin looked the man up and down appraisingly. “The old ways are not yet forgotten. With whom do we have the pleasure of sharing our fire, if I may ask? And why are you travelling around with a bear?” Bears always made Thorin think of Beorn, the shapeshifting woodsman he had met on his journey to the Lonely Mountain.

The man smiled at Thorin, his eyes twinkling. “A better question is what is Thorin the King of Erebor doing in a trapper’s cabin in the forest?”

Thorin frowned at him, but before he could answer Kaylea spoke.

“My king, this is Radagast the Brown. The bear often travels with him”

‘The Brown wizard? I thought he was a myth,” said Thorin.  

Radagast looked offended, but then shrugged. “Just because I do not spend my time meddling in the affairs of Men like others of my order...ah, well! Perhaps it is better to be a mystery.”

Kaylea took three mugs off the shelf and poured the coffee. She offered one to Radagast who took it gratefully. He held the mug in both hands, sipping at it cautiously.

“This is very good. Thank you!”

“Do you know your bag is squeaking?” Kaylea asked, looking at the bag in the wizard’s lap that was moving in two different directions.  

“Yes, yes,” said Radagast, putting down his cup to reach into his bag and draw out two tiny brown kits. “Their mother was killed by a hunting party yesterday. They are too young to make it on their own, they are the second reason I am in this part of the forest tonight.” He cradled the kits in his arms, speaking softly to them in a strange language. They fussed and wined but soon fell asleep. The wizard sat rocking the tiny creatures tenderly, a soft smile on his lips.  

“The second reason,” said Thorin, looking at the wizard questioningly. “What is the first?”

“That would be you, your majesty,” said Radagast, carefully placing the wolverine kits back in his bag. He picked up his coffee again and sipped at it. “This really is very good!”

Kaylea chuckled at the wizard. “What business do you have with the King Under the Mountain? The Dwarves are a bit outside your purview, are they not?”

“Yes, thank the Goddess,” Radagast reached into his robe, searching his pockets. “I prefer to have as little to do with them as possible, such odd people. Only interested in metal and stone. But I do have something that belongs to the King, when I heard you were in the forest I could not miss the chance.” He brought out a heavy gold ring and presented it to Thorin. “I believe this is yours.”

Thorin was scowling at the wizard’s words but when he saw the ring his eyes went wide. He took it almost reverently, inspecting it carefully. “This was my grandfather’s,” he said softly, almost to himself. “However did you come by it?”

Radagast took a deep breath. “A crow brought it to me years ago. Found it in the rocks before the gates of Moria, they do love shiny things. I have been meaning to return it to you. I set out several times to do so, but something else always seemed to come up. And I do so hate to travel outside the forest.”

Thorin wanted to give the wizard a piece of his mind, How could he have kept this ring? But Kaylea spoke first. “Thank you, Radagast,” she said. “The King is very happy to have this returned.”

“Well, now that I have delivered it I must get on,” the wizard said. “I am already very late to be on my way home.” He drained his coffee cup. “Thank you for allowing me to warm up a bit.”  

Radagast rose and walked to the door, he put his hand on the latch and was about to open it when he turned, looking from Thorin to Kaylea and back. He had known Kaylea Wolf for many years, a deadly fighter with the grace and golden hair of the Fair Folk. The King was not at all what the wizard had expected. Taller than a Dwarf should be, with his close-cropped beard and fine features he looked quite different from most of his people. They seemed an odd couple, but they definitely were one, judging by the matching braids.

“Why are the two of you here in the forest?” The wizard asked.

“We were just out for a ride and were overtaken by the weather,” Kaylea said lightly.

Radagast raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “I suppose it is no business of mine, you are quite right. Congratulations, by the way,” he looked at Thorin closely. “I thought you were older.”

“Congratulations for what?” Thorin asked, suddenly remembering why he hated dealing with wizards. Talking to them always made you feel as though you were having two unrelated conversations at the same time.

“On your wedding, of course,” he looked at Kaylea, touching the front of his ear where her braids fell. “Are you not the Queen of Erebor?”

Kaylea gave Thorin a sideways glance. “I am not. It is rather a long story.”

Radagast cocked his head, as if the owl on his shoulder was speaking in his ear. “I am reminded not to speak about things which have not yet happened, I do sometimes get ahead of events. I wish you a very good evening.” He opened the door and vanished into a whirlwind of snowflakes.

Thorin and Kaylea looked at each other. “I wonder what that was all about,” Kaylea mused.

Thorin shook his head, chuckling. “I cannot imagine,” he said. But his mind went to the vision he had seen in the Mirror of Galadriel. Kaylea in a wedding dress, jeweled beads in her hair, the matching rings. It was a good sign if the wizard had seen it as well.   

They busied themselves preparing dinner. Thorin skinned the two coneys they had surprised earlier and cut them up, Kaylea set to work on the potatoes and vegetables. As in everything they did together the two of them worked in harmony, knowing intuitively when to give the other space on the small counter.

“Is he always like that?” Thorin asked Kaylea, turning to toss the scraps to Hector.

“Radagast cares little for the worlds of Men, his interest is in the beasts and the birds and the living things of Middle Earth,” she replied. “He does not talk much to people, so he is a bit less polished than Gandalf.”

“I do think I like him better,” said Thorin. “He seems a bit less self-important.”

 Some time later, when the dishes from dinner were put away Thorin and Kaylea were sitting on the floor by the stove. Kaylea had found a bearskin under the bed and spread it out against a bundle of blankets, Thorin sat down and patted the hide in front of him. As she settled down he stretched his legs out on either side and started to take out her braids. Kaylea always did them carefully before coming to Erebor but they never passed Thorin’s inspection, he always looked at them disapprovingly until he could redo them himself. He had finished the first one and was braiding the second when Kaylea asked to see the ring Radagast had brought. It was heavy and looked quite old, plain gold with the sigil of the house of Durin on it.

“You have one like this,” she said, handing it back to Thorin. He nodded.

“I made another when I thought this one was lost. This is the King’s signet ring, the original one, handed down from Nain himself. I am very glad to have it back.” He tied the bead to the bottom of Kaylea’s braid and sat back, drawing her close against him. She leaned back, watching the fire dance through the window on the stove and feeling very content in his arms.

“When Radagast brought that ring out I thought for a moment it might be a different one,” she said.

“I confess, I thought the same,” Thorin replied. He was silent for a time. “If it had been that one, I would have told him to keep it.”

“You do not desire it?”

“I saw what it did to my grandfather, what the gold created with it did to me. I still remember waking after you healed my wounds from the Battle of the Five Armies and thinking what a complete idiot I had been. No, I do not want it.” Thorin sighed. “It is out of my reach now, and good riddance.”

“This is why you are a better King than your grandfather, than your father would have been,” Kaylea said. “You are stronger, your vision is unclouded.”

“You have made me a better king,” Thorin replied. “Taught me how to look at problems differently, how to play the larger political game...and a few other things,” he kissed her neck, then gently nibbled her ear. Kaylea squirmed, smiling, her hands squeezing his. “Did I find a sensitive spot?” Thorin nibbled at her ear again, Kaylea turned in his arms and put a hand behind his head bringing her lips to his. This was one of those moments she wished she could just stretch out forever. The dark winter night, the cozy cabin, alone with the man she loved. If only life were so simple.

[ruthoakenshield]

Thorin and the Gem Carver (part 18)

After a few hours, Balin and Arwen return. She is giggling and excited to show you what Balin made, but you were still sleeping. Balin shows Thorin the beads and explains that when they got to the forge, Mahal appeared to them and gave them the tiny gemstones. Thorin immediately recognizes them as the same ones in the beads from Mahal for your Mistress Gem Carver beads. The beads Balin made are of the purest gold they had and blessed by Mahal to never be destroyed nor damaged. He explains that Mahal instructed him what carvings to put on the bead and where to put the stones. It is indeed a beautiful set and are unique beads.

 Arwen giggles and says, “Mahal asked me if he could show Balin how to do the braid using my hair! I said he could, and he showed Balin how to do the braid, then took it out and asked if Balin might give it a try. I nodded and he did the braid in my hair. When Mahal nodded, he had done it right, he took it out and then he made the beads.

 “When she wakes, we can put them into her hair. Thorin, since you are courting her and she is unable to weave the family braid into my hair, you will need to do it for her.” He tells Thorin. Thorin nods.  

 “Balin, when should we do the ceremony for the announcement of the Mistress Gem Carver’s Guild?” It will take time to get word sent to all the kingdoms of Middle Earth.” He says. “What do you mean, Thorin?” Arwen asks.

Balin chuckles. “We currently have 20 different guilds for different trades, Arwen. Typically, those Dwarves that are able to create the best of that trade, are referred to as “Master” level in that trade regardless of their gender. Like Jade was given the title “Master Gem Carver” by your Father and Galadriel.

 This can get to be a problem, though, especially when Humans expect a male to do the work and a female shows up to do it. In the Carver’s guild there are three sub-guilds: The Gem Carver’s, The Wood Carver’s and the Metal Carver’s. Mahal has decreed that the Gem Carver’s guild be split to distinguish between the males and the females.

 Thorin liked the idea and expanded it to apply to all the guilds. So now all guilds will have two halves or counterparts. One male and one female. Males who are at the ‘Master’ level will be granted the title “Master” and the Females at the same level will be granted the title “Mistress”. He explains.

 Mahal told Thorin to summon all the realms of Middle Earth to inform them of this new change in the organization of the guilds, so that there is clarity with who exactly will be doing the work and that they understand that both the “Mistress and the Master” are at the exact same level and quality and the only distinction is the gender of the artisan.” Balin explains to Arwen.

 “Oh, I see!” Arwen says. “What are the guilds you have now?” she asks. “We have: a Food guild, Jeweler/Whitesmith’s guild, Weapons & Armor Guild, Trade Guild, Language & Lore guild, Dwarven Council, Healer’s Guild, Carver’s Guild, Stonesmith’s Guild, Lampsmith’s Guild, Toymaker’s Guild, Military, Blacksmith’s Guild, Spurriers Guild, Cartwright/Woodworker’s guild, Musician’s Guild, Stable Guild, Hunter’s Guild and the Textile’s Guild.

 We plan to add one more now, the Royal Bookmaker’s Guild in honor of one of our elderly and Master Level Royal Bookmaker who has dedicated her entire life to bookmaking for the Royal family. She created this as a wedding gift for Thorin prior to the Fall of Erebor.” Balin explains and hands Arwen the book Miranda made for Thorin.

 “OH!!! It’s beautiful!!!” She exclaims as she admires the work. “Adda (Father) has a few books like this that Thror gifted to him to write his Lores of Middle Earth in!” she says. Balin chuckles. “Then Miranda most likely made them for Thror. There are not many of those books that were allowed outside of this mountain. She was one of our hidden treasures. Her work was highly prized by the line of Durin. It was indeed a rare and highly honored gift to receive one of her books!” Balin tells Arwen.

 “I would like to meet her if I may.” Arwen asks. Balin smiles and looks at Thorin. Thorin thinks for a moment, and nods. We will be summoning her here later on today to inform her of the honors we wish to offer her. She is very old, even by dwarf standards and Mahal informed me her time here is drawing to it’s end. We wish for her to pass her knowledge on, so that it’s beauty and skills are not lost like so many of our artisans’ skills have been thanks to Smaug.” Thorin tells Arwen.

 “Would I be allowed to learn her skills?” Arwen asks. Thorin thinks and looks at Balin. Balin shrugs. “It would be up to Miranda, as long as Thorin does not mind.” Balin tells Arwen. She grins happily. Then thinks for a minute. “If you are able to decide when to do the ceremony, Ada and I could bring the invitations with us and deliver them on our way back to Rivendell.” She offers. “We could send the ones to the northern peoples and the ones in the south west of the Misty Mountains, Hobbiton and the Dunedain for you.” She offers.

 Thorin and Balin look at each other and nod. “Thank you, that would indeed be helpful to us.” Thorin states. “I know many are too far from here or are unwilling to travel to Erebor for such a ceremony. We will send with those, a more detailed explanation, the same that will be explained during the ceremony.” He tells Arwen. She nods.

 They talk until lunch time and Bombur and his children bring in the noon meal for those in your room. Oin wakes you, Arwen and Thorin help raise you just enough for the pillows to be propped under you so you can eat.

 Once you are finished, Balin comes over and shows you the beads he made. He explains what each one is for and then asks if he may braid your hair. You nod and he takes a section of hair, behind your ear on both sides of your head and under the diamond braids and braids his family’s braid pattern into each section of your long hair stopping the braid half way down, at your shoulder.. He then affixes his family’s beads to it, then continues the braid all the way to the end and affixes a plain silver end clasp.

 Balin then braids a second set of braids into your hair on either side, with the pattern Mahal showed him just beside his family’s braid and your birth Father’s braid naming you, and attaches Mahal’s beads to them at your shoulder height, then continues the braid to the end and again caps it off with a simple gold cap.

 Thorin takes out your courting braid, smoothes out the hair, then sections it off and does a new courting braid that Yavanna had showed him how to do. He braids it to just above your shoulders, puts in the beads, then braids the rest of the way down to the end and caps it off with simple gold beads.

 Next Thorin undoes your Master Gem carver braid. You ask what he is doing, and he tells you what Mahal instructed. “Oh. Okay.” You reply. He puts his old courting braid design into your hair at your temples, and braids it to the end, capping it with the beads from the Elves. Then he carefully does the diamond design, with your explaining how the maid did it as he went. Soon, he has it in place, and you are grinning looking in the mirror Arwen is holding for you to see your new braids. “Thank you.” you tell them, and they all smile.

 While Thorin puts the braids into Balin’s hair on your behalf, he and Balin explain what Mahal told Thorin about the Gem Carver’s Guild and explained that there is to be an official ceremony in front of representatives of the realms of Middle Earth who are willing to come, to present you as the first Mistress Gem Carver. They explain that at that ceremony you will be officially given the book from Thorin that Mahal blessed, the beads Mahal created will be put into your hair and you will be given a signet ring that states your title as Mistress Gem Carver. They tell you what Mahal said about the diamond hairstyle that will now be used to designate all Mistress Gem Carvers. You reach up and touch the diamond braids that are in your hair. “My maid will be honored that Mahal recognized her design and idea to even create such a hair style!” you giggle.

 The dwarves chuckle and nod. “Sweetheart, when do you think you’d be willing to have this ceremony done?” Balin asks. “It will take time to plan everything and get announcements sent out in time for them to reach to the farthest parts of Middle Earth.” He tells you. You shrug. “I will do it whenever you decide, Adad. Hopefully by then, I will at least be able to stand with out needing to be held upright!” you sigh.

 Arwen holds your hand. “You will be standing by that time, my Little Sister.” She assures you with a mischievous grin and a wink.” You smile.

 “I do not like being the center of attention, but I will do this because Mahal has asked it of me to. I will leave it up to you to decide when to have it.” You say. Thorin takes your other hand and cups it between his two hands, “Thank you, Ghivashel (treasure of all treasures). We will see how you fare this week and will go from there in deciding a date for the ceremony.” Thorin tells you.

 “Sweetheart, would you like to meet the Dwarrowdam who made the elegant book I bought for you?” he asks. “Balin and I wish to honor her for her lifetime’s dedication and service to my family, and thought you might like to talk with her and thank her for making such a beautiful cover for your book and giving you such kind blessings for our future.” He explains. You nod and smile. “Yes, I would like to meet her.” You tell him.

 “Would you mind if I left for a short time to go and bring her here?” he asks. “I don’t mind, Kurdûn (Man of my heart).” You tell Thorin. He grins brightly at your name for him and leans forward and gives you a gentle kiss. “I will be back shortly with Miranda. Be good and stay put.” He tells you. You nod.

 Thorin quickly gets up and trots out the door, happy you are agreeing to things and are feeling better. He heads for Miranda’s shop and stops to buy a small gift for her, a ring and stops to carve, reversed runes into the Sapphire gem that state ‘Royal BookMaker’ on it. He arrives at her shop and she looks up to see who enters.

 She drops to a curtsey as best she can and says, “How can I be of service, Melhekhul (My King)?” Thorin comes up to her and helps her stand. “I do not know if my family ever thanked you for all you have done for us over your lifetime. I did not know until recently that you were the one gracing our bookshelves with the beautiful book covers and I wish to formally thank you. Will you join me for a walk?” he inquires.

 Miranda blushes deeply. “Melhekhul, no one from the Royal family ever thanked me for what I did. I did it out of love for the Line of Durin.” She says. “It would be an honor to walk with you, Melhekhul.” She says and allows him to escort her out of the shop. She pauses and locks the door, then loops her hand around Thorin’s arm once more.

 As they walked slowly towards the Royal wing, Thorin talked with Miranda, asking her how she learned to do the intricate leatherwork and gilding on the books and where she learned bookmaking and binding. She told him that her family as far back as she knew were all bookmakers and that she is now the last one.

 She tells him she learned from her Father and Grandfather, and that when she was given the task to create a book ‘fit for a King’ she panicked, thinking her work was not to that level of skill yet. She tells him about going to the heart of the mountain and leaving a sample of her best work at the foot of Mahal’s statue and a set of stationery she made with tiny gold leaf dust embedded into the paper fibers and gold leaf around the edges as a gift for Yavanna. “I did not know if they had any such use for my lowly gifts, but I left them none the less. I sat there praying and suddenly they both appear to me and thank me for my gifts and praise my work.

 They ask me what it is I wish of them and I tell them of my task assigned to me and of my doubt in being able to complete it and have it be ‘fit for a King’. They assured me my work was, indeed, ‘fit for a King of Dwarves or Men or Elves’ and blessed my hands and my work, telling me from then on, I will be the best at it.”

 She is so engrossed in telling Thorin the account that she doesn’t notice where they are right away. Her eyes get huge and she looks up at Thorin confused. “Why have you brought me to your Amad’s room?” she inquires. Thorin explains that this suite is now belonging to his One and her Aunt since her parents and his Amad are no longer living. “My One and a few others wish to meet the Dwarrowdam who makes such lovely book covers and books.” He tells Miranda.

 “Oh!” she says. “Lead on, then.” She replies, looking up at him. Thorin chuckles and motions for the guards to open the doors. They do and he leads Miranda into the room. She pauses and gasps. “It has been such a long time since I was in here last. Your Amad loved my books and we would sit and talk over tea while I made her books and stationery.” She said, getting glassy-eyed. Thorin smiles kindly and gives her a minute. She nods and they continue on to your room. Thorin knocks on the door and Dwalin opens it, letting them in.

 “Hello, there Miss Goldenleaf!” Dwalin says with a grin and a wink.” She swats him, laughing and says, Dwalin son of Fundin, stop your teasing!” he just laughs and gives her a hug. “I see you finally worked up the courage to give Thorin your gift!” he teases.

 Miranda’s face gets pink and she nods. “I’m getting old and only Mahal knows when I will be called to the Halls of Mandos. I wanted to make sure Melhekhul (My King), got it before I croaked.” She says with a cackle. “It just so happened he walked into my shop the other day and said he was looking for a book for his One. So, I figured it was now or never.” She explains with a grin.

 Thorin chuckles. “Speaking of my One, she is here…” he says and leads Miranda over to the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says picking up your hand, “this is our royal Bookbinder, Miranda Goldenleaf. Miranda, this is my One and our future Queen, Jade Gemcarver.” He says, introducing the two of you. You look over at her and smile. “My apologies for not being able to greet you in the proper fashion, Miss Goldenleaf, my injuries prevent me from doing much at the moment.” You explain. “Thank you for the beautiful book and cover, as well as the notes of blessing and well wishes.” You tell her. “Thorin, show her what Mahal did with it.” you tell him.

 Thorin nods and grabs the book from off the coffee table. He brings it over and lays it on your lap. The moment it gets near you it begins to glow. Miranda’s eyes open wide. “Mahal enchanted it?!?” she asks looking up at Thorin in shock. Thorin grins and opens the cover to show her the letter from Mahal and Yavanna which is encased in a thin, yet durable crystal, which is mounted to the inside of the book. She reads the note and just stares at it with glassy eyes.

 “They used the stationery I made for Yavanna to write that letter!” she whispers in disbelief. Balin comes over with a soft chuckle. “You alright, Sweetheart?” he asks her. “I never thought they would ever have use for my humble gifts.” She says quietly, completely stunned. Balin smiles. “Indeed, it is quite the honor, Miranda. Do you realize this is the first and only time in our history that Mahal and Yavanna have ever given us a written letter? And the first time we have ever been granted to see their seals? And they chose to use your precious gifts to convey them to us! You apparently made quite the impression on them with your ‘humble gifts’!” he tells her as he gently rubs her back.

 “I need to sit down.” She says. Dwalin hurries and grabs a chair for her and sets it next to the bed. Balin helps her to sit. “Would you like some tea? Julia, Jade’s Aunt, made some before she left to help Ori in the library.” He offers. Miranda nods. “Yes, tea would be nice. Thank you, Master Balin.” She says.

 “Please forgive my shock. I never expected such a response for my gifts.” She says humbly. Thorin and you smile. “They are deserving of the praise and admiration,” you tell her. “And now at least this creation is guaranteed to last to the ending of the world.” You remind Miranda, “A testament to what the best Bookmaker in all of the Dwarven kingdoms can do.” You praise her.

 She nods, at a loss for words. Balin returns with the cup of tea and hands it to her. She sips it with shaky hands. “Miranda, when you were appointed ‘Royal Bookbinder’ were you given anything to designate this distinction? I see no beads in your hair designating it, nor any rings on your fingers with an official seal.” Thorin asks. “Had Mahal and Balin not informed me, I would never have known.” He says.

 Miranda shakes her head. “No, Melhekhul (my King), it was an informal designation. The Gold Sickness had just started in your Grandfather and he was unwilling to make it a formal title, fearing others would try to steal me away from him if they knew about my talents. So, it was kept a secret. Only he and the Queen, your parents, Balin and Dwalin knew of it.” Miranda explained.

 Thorin sighed. “I wish I had known sooner. I apologize for my family’s treatment of you, Miranda. They took advantage of you and did not give you proper recognition. I wish to remedy that with your permission. Please, accept this as a symbol of my recognition of your title, now made formally as our Royal BookMaker.

 You are the last of the line who knows how to do this kind of work and detail. Balin tells me you never married and dedicated your entire life to serving my family making our lovely books. Please, do not let this knowledge and skills die off with you. Will you consider passing them on to a few select who wish to learn your trade and secrets that they may be preserved and not lost?” he inquires.

 Miranda looks up at him with such reverence. Her eyes are glassy, and she looks at the ring in her hands. She swallows hard and nods. “I will be happy to teach my skills and secrets to whomever wishes to learn on one condition.” She says.

 “What is your condition?” Thorin asks. “That the knowledge is used only for that of the royal houses. If it is made common knowledge of how to do this skill, it becomes less valuable and loses it’s importance.” She explains.

 Arwen is standing at the foot end of the bed and sighs. Miranda looks up and sees her standing there looking sad. “Why the sigh, Lady Arwen?” Miranda asks.

 Arwen looks up surprised. “You know who I am?” she asks. Miranda laughs quietly. “Yes, Lass, I know who the children are of Elrond Peredhel, Lord of Rivendell, Vice-regent of Eriador, Herald to Gil-galad.” She says, reciting Elrond’s name, Title and position. “I made many books for the Lord of Rivendell for his histories and lores of Middle Earth. Now why the sigh?” she asks.

 “I had wished to learn your skill that I may make something lovely like you do for my Father and my Grandparents, and my Brothers.” She says quietly. “I will understand though, if you wish to keep it a Dwarvish secret. I will not share what I have heard with anyone if you do not wish me to.” She says respectfully and bows her head.

 Miranda is quiet for a moment. “Because you have been respectful of our culture and because you are the Daughter of Elrond Peredhel, I will allow you to learn my trade and my secrets, but you must promise not to teach them to any others, save your children that you have in the future. They are the only ones you may teach, but they too must be held to the same promise. The knowledge must stay in your bloodline unless it is in risk of ending, as mine is.” She instructs.

 “I promise.” Arwen says. “Our King and his Advisor and Chief of Security are witness to this agreement, as is the future Queen and our Healer.” Miranda says. Arwen nods. “Thank you, Miss Greenleaf.” She says with a grateful grin.

 Miranda gives her a kind smile and nods. She looks at the ring on her finger and caresses it gently. “I never thought my contributions would ever be recognized by anyone and that my name, talent, deeds and memory would fade away and be lost with my death. I have no legacy to leave behind. I didn’t think anyone would want to learn such a trade any longer.” She says quietly.

 “Miranda, what if you could leave a legacy behind? Would you do it?” Thorin asks. She looks up at him puzzled. He smiles and explains. “I was down in the heart of the mountain trying to get my thoughts and feelings put into words after picking up the book from you and some pencils for Jade. I had carried them down with me to the heart of the mountain and was sitting before the statues of Mahal and Yavanna. They visited me and saw your book. They told me a little bit about you and that you had dedicated your life to serving my family. They praised your work and Mahal enchanted your book so it would never be destroyed, preserving it for all time.

 I realized you are getting up in years and thought it a sad thing that when you are no longer with us that all your skill and knowledge will be lost. I mentioned it to Mahal and how I wished I would’ve known about you sooner, that I would’ve asked you to take on my young scribe who works in the Library and teach him all you know to preserve your knowledge and skills. Mahal promised me he will give you enough time to pass on what you know before he calls you to his halls.

 I was talking with Balin about this and he thinks there may be a few others who wish to learn your trade. We thought perhaps of creating a special Royal Bookmaker’s guild who will only serve the king and his line with their skill. I would like to offer you a small school named in your honor where they will be taught what you teach Ori, where your memory and knowledge, skills and secrets for the trade will be preserved and recorded for all time.” He offers.

 “You will run the school as you see fit to do so. When you are called to Mandos’ halls, Ori will take over the teaching. If you will agree to this, you will be granted the title, ‘Mistress Royal BookMaker’, which is now the equivalent to a ‘Master Royal BookMaker’.” Thorin explains.

 Miranda’s eyes glisten and soon small tears trickle down her cheeks. She is deeply touched by Thorin’s desire to make sure she is not forgotten. She nods and can barely believe what she is hearing. Thorin smiles. “I will talk with Ori and see if he knows of any other dwarrow who might be interested in learning from the first Mistress Royal BookMaker.” He tells her. “Once we know how many there are, you may interview them and choose which you want to teach. You may set whatever rules and guidelines you wish for establishing who is accepted into the school and when they can be deemed a ‘Master or Mistress’ Royal BookMaker.” Thorin tells her.

 “Perhaps Ori can find a section in one of the side rooms of the Library where you can use for the school room.” He says. “I think it would be fitting to have it taught there.” He says. Miranda looks up at Thorin with tears trickling down her cheeks. “I do not know what to say, Melhekhul (my King), ‘thank you’ just seems so inadequate. I am not worthy of this Hurmel (honor of all honors)!” she says.

 Thorin looks at the humbled old Dwarrowdam. He stands and comes over to her and squats down. He takes her hand in his and tilts her face to look up at his. “You are worthy of such high praise and honor, Mianda. Each Dwarrowdam, no mater their age, skill or status is a special and unique treasure to me. You are one such special treasure. You gave your entire life to serve my family without receiving any recognition or expecting anything in return. And in return for your generosity, love, and dedication; they kept you hidden from existence and foolishly risked losing the knowledge, skills and talents you were blessed with, never acknowledging you nor thanking you for the beauty you create. I do not wish for you to be the last of the BookMakers who have your skill and talents.

 This is my way of fixing that wrong my ancestors did to you; and showing you my gratitude for your lifetime of service to the line of Durin. You will be given funds to run the school how you wish, you may use whatever supplies, gold, gems and jewels you wish to show your students how to create the beautiful covers and spines of the books you make. Show them how you make your stationery too. I am sure my One would love to use them to correspond with Arwen and also with her Cousin, Sister and Brother in Rohan as well as King Theoden, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.” Thorin tells her. “Use the funds for the supplies you and the students will need, and you will be provided for by us until the end of your days.” He promises.

 She looks at Thorin and cries. “Thank you, Melhekhul (my King)! Thank you! Tan menu selek lanun naman! (May your forges burn bright!)” she says, cupping his hands in hers and bowing her head to them.

 Thorin smiles and looks up at you. You are grinning and reach over and pat Miranda’s shoulder lovingly.

 “We will have a ceremony celebrating this then, as well as Jade’s new titles once she is healed enough to stand upright on her own for it. In the meantime, use your ring as you need to. If there are any questions about your title or such, have them brought before me or Balin and we will explain things to them. “Thorin tells her. “Now, would you like to go and see Ori at the library and perhaps the two of you can begin to work things out for the school where you can teach him and Arwen and whatever others you desire to learn directly from you?” Thorin asks.

 She nods. “Balin will show you there and introduce you to Ori. Ori was a member of my Company when we reclaimed Erebor. He will take good care of you. When you are ready to head back home, he will walk with you back to your shop or your home, whichever you desire.” He tells Miranda. “Each piece your students create, be sure to stamp with the seal on your ring, so I know it is the work of your students. And have them design their own seals to use on their works as well. Have Ori record them, so we know who directly learned from you and who directly learned from Ori.” He tells her. “As you wish, Melhekhul (my King).” Miranda says as she stands. “Arwen, you do the same. Keep record of your signet and that of your children who learn this craft. Use them to mark your creations and have your children do the same, so if they end up in the hands of the Dwarves of Erebor, we will recognize who made it. Keep the Dwarves of Erebor informed when you teach it to your children and have them do the same as the years pass.” She nods and says, “I will do as you ask, Thorin.”

 Thorin helps Miranda to her feet and gives her a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek, making her blush deep red. He chuckles and thanks her again for serving his family faithfully all these years.” She nods, gives him a curtsey and goes with Balin to find Ori. “Would you like to join us, Arwen and see our library?” Balin asks. She grins and nods, following them out of the room.

 Once they step out of the room and Thorin hears the second set of doors close, he turns to you and comes to sit beside you. You take his hand in yours. “It is a very kind thing you are doing for her, Kurdûn (man of my heart).” You tell him. Thorin beams at your praise. “She is well deserving of the gifts you are giving to her.” You tell him. Thorin nods. Just as you are, Muhudel (blessing of all blessings). He says, caressing your moonbeam white locks. His thick fingers caress the beads of the new braids in your hair. They now ‘clink’ when you move your head.

“Oh, that’s going to be annoying hearing them ‘clink’ like that all the time!” you exclaim. Thorin laughs. “When we re-do them, we can alter the lengths that they rest at so they are not so noisy, my Love.” He tells you with a grin and a chuckle.

More Chapters to come.

Likes, comments and Reblogs always welcomed happily! Feel free to leave any of them, just please, give credit where it’s due.

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[urcadelimabean]

Fellowship of the Ring rewatch thoughts from one of those intense lotr nerds!

- One thing that strikes me after so long - I think the last time I saw it was about 3 years ago - is not just the music but the sound...the sound effects for the heaviness of the Ring, the way spells echo and amplify when Gandalf or Arwen speak them, the sound effects for bowstrings, the screams of the Nazgul being so inhuman, the drums in the deep of Moria, the scrape of stone on stone for the Balrog...if the sound hadn’t bee so good the movies honestly wouldn’t have worked this well. God the soundtrack.

- I will always have little quibbles about stuff -- the Ring moving onto Frodo’s finger in Bree with CGI, Galadriel’s over the top green CGI moment, the fact that we see too much of the Watcher in the Water -- but in general, like in GENERAL, the fact that these movies are so beautiful and well made....we didn’t just dodge a bullet we dodged a nuclear weapon LOL....we really did. These could have been so atrociously bad, but instead they are beautiful.

- no one should be reading LOTR as an allegory anyway, but the Ring is often read as an allegory for addiction or a nuclear weapon and somehow not as frequently likened to carrying trauma. Which is absolutely wild to me. The concept of carrying something that poisons and hurts you but that you can’t put down....it seems much more similar to trauma than many of the things I see it compared too

- I love moral complexity, greyness, etc, but I find the idea that the Ring is just utterly and completely evil very refreshing. That there are things that you cannot compromise on, that are indisputably evil.

- One thing i love about LOTR is the fact that it is not what people think of as “high fantasy” - it doesn’t take place in a shiny, perfect world, it takes place in a decayed, faded, eroded remnant of so many things that have been lost. The whole setting being created that way is so important. And magic honestly doesn’t even come into the story that much. The Ring is magical, but the way magic functions in LOTR is so different from how it functions in Harry Potter for example and I am so thankful of that because it’s a refreshing and beautiful and different world.

- I’ve thought a lot about how Tolkien’s time in the trenches of WW1 influenced his outlook and therefore his writing, but the part where Frodo is talking to Bilbo and he says “My own adventure was quite different. I’m not like you, Bilbo.” It really struck me as something straight out of Tolkien’s mouth. This was a generation that became so disillusioned about the point of war and all this bloodshed and all these young lives lost, who found out that this idea that ‘fighting for your country is some grand adventure’ is completely empty.

- Really has been bothering me for years that the conversation of racism in Tolkien’s works is restricted to conversations about orcs and dark/light. Left out of that conversation is all the talk about bloodlines, pure blood, heritage, etc, and all of that stands out so sharply to me...like HELLO. That’s clearly as much of or even MORE of a problem than the other things, and once you know how drawn white supremacists are to LOTR it’s not hard to connect the dots as to why. But the LOTR fandom has historically been absolute shit at admitting this.

- I really really love that in LOTR you have characters like Merry and Pippin who have no special powers, no special birthright or parentage and the reason they are heroic is simply because they are loyal and protective of their friends. The way they distract the orcs by waving to them to come get them, so Frodo can run away - it has nothing to do with how good they are at fighting, they dont protect Frodo with special powers, they literally just do WHATEVER they can even if it means sacrificing themselves.

- And then you have Sam - he doesn't have special powers, or special parentage, or magic - and it’s again a situation where his heroic moment is simply refusing to be parted with Frodo. He wades into the water even though he can’t swim. All these movies these days are just heroism = powers, and it’s so refreshing to see the opposite, of heroism even when it’s almost futile, and that’s why it’s heroic.

- There’s something so painfully bittersweet about LOTR, and it’s one thing I love the most. It feels real because it’s painful. It wouldn’t feel real if it didn’t have this thread of sadness running through it.

- Everyone saying Gandalf is a Christ figure....brooooo do you know Odin??? I’m not even denying there are Christian themes in LOTR but Tolkien created LOTR to be a pre-Christian myth. Clearly it is compatible with Christianity, but Tolkien was a scholar of all these pre-Christian epics and he knows there are themes that are shared across mythologies. Compatible with Christianity does not mean original to Christianity. Also all this death and glory shit is so Norse guys come on. anyway ODIN.

- GOD the mythic themes of hubris, the importance of promises, warrior’s deaths....LOVE THAT MYTHOLOGICAL FEEL!!!!!!!!! LOVE IT

- everyone wants in on a redemption arc but Boromir is out here literally getting shot full of arrows, dying a courageous warrior’s death and confessing his love and loyalty to his King.....everyone just want what he has!!!!!!!!!!

- love me some hobbits. curly haired. small. love food. would love to marry one one day.

- did I mention how much I love Ian McKellen? I swear every time I hear him say those lines to Frodo I heal in some amazing way. “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” I remember the first time I read the Fellowship when I was 13 and Gandalf died I was just like “nope. that did not happen :)” and then sure enough I was right!!! and then I felt relived but not even that relieved because I literally had refused to accept it in the first place so I was just like :)

- Saruman should start a hair product line. His hair looks so silky. No but seriously Christopher Lee was perfect. Imagine how bad the casting could have been. I’m so glad they got the right actors. Viggo Mortensen!!!! that man

- Legolas after Lothlorien was literally like Gimli likes blondes? maybe I have a chance after all.....eyes emoji....

- never over the level of detail in the costumes, the armor, the chain mail, the Elvish in the songs, the way the scenes mirror paintings from book illustrations....like holy fuck. FUCK!! FUCK

- the way these movies do or don’t reveal things is so integral to how well they work. the fact that at first you meet one Nazgul, then two, then three, the fact that you hear the Balrog before seeing it, the fact that you rarely hear Sauron speak unless it’s indistinct, the fact that you never see Sauron in battle except for in flashbacks. It all preserves the mystery and suspense that makes it scary and compelling. Lotr made in 2020 would be like Aragorn vs Sauron and it would be literally awful.

- the amount of hugging and crying and actual human emoting in this one movie cleansed me of so much marvel fatigue. it’s so nice to see characters actually grieving and comforting each other instead of acting like cardboard cutouts.

- I’ve talked a lot about this before elsewhere but the reduction/interpretation of lotr to this black and white good versus evil type of story really does a disservice to the whole ass POINT which is that it’s a story about despair in the face of insurmountable evil, in the face of the destruction of the environment and the destruction of freedom and this awful powerlessness, and so it’s not just a story about despair it’s also a story about hope in the face of despair. which feels very needed right now.

- these bullet points are getting less coherent but I’m still just thinking about that last shot, of Sam and Frodo beginning to walk away into the wilderness towards Mordor, and the soundtrack.

[areiton]

(1)Cause you're (rightfully) grumpy about people's purity wank I've got a question that might distract you and which I desperately hope you have an answer to: I mostly read steter fic so far. Now i wanted to get into sterek but ... I seem to be too picky?? I'd like to read sth not totally au (Erica and Boyd being alive is fine for example), with not too much ooc-ness, with Peter NOT being the villain and with Derek's abusive past 'relationships' and Stiles self-destructiveness actually adressed

(2) and I can’t seem to find sth that really … catches me. There are so many amazing steter fics out there (yes, I very definetely talking about your fics too) and I’m sure there are equally amazing sterek fics, but …. yeah. I’m obviously not able to find them. So - help??? Please??

~*~

Oh, friend. You are my favorite. This is the kind of ask Iadooooore. Ok, you ready? Cuz this list is LOOOOONG. (big thanks to@bloody-bee-tee for helping me find fics for this list.) Not everything fitsall your criteria, but all of them fit some.

**Are especially good for dealing with Derek and/or Stiles healing.

~~

Patterns of Intention by drunktuesdays:

Derek looked likethe stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had hishands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—hiseyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said,blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to bewrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

~~

Paper Skin and Glass Bones byhushlittlewolf:

Derek can’t takethis. He can’t take this joking, concerned boy that has the evidence of Derek’sshortcomings carved into his skin.

Or

The one where Dereknever paid attention to how much Stiles got hurt…until he sees Stilesshirtless and notices all the scars.

~~

**Carry You Home byCastielific:

“Derek letshimself fall on his back, breath short, heart beating fast. He can feel theWolf in him, purring in satisfaction and contentment. Asking for more. It wantshim to turn and touch, to never stop touching. Instead, Derek squeezes hishands into fists and closes his eyes, trying to push it back, this need, thisinstinct screaming for his mate. For Stiles.”

Title inspired bythis Firefly quote: “When you can’t run anymore, you crawl, and when you can’tcrawl, when you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you”

~~

Trust Fall byStoney:

Stiles is fairlycertain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming backto Peter Hale. This time it’s pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated byswapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. Thatmakes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thingwhere his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek isactually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait…does this mean he’s the Alpha until they figurethis out? Holy. Shit.****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a fewminutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loudmouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going tokill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him againjust to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have tostay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into thissituation with someone who physically couldn’t be calm and focused.

Of course.

~~

Stilinski’s Home for WaywardWolves by owlpostagain:

“At least yourpuppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them tobe well-mannered.” 



“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 



Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges,abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up andall but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, andsure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock ducttaped to the vinyl siding: 



DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

—

Or, in which StilesStilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school andaccidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

~~

How  Derek Met His Smallest Fan by purleduvet:

Derek is standing inthe fruits and vegetables aisle, trying to decide between two very nice lookingwatermelons, when someone small crashes into his legs.

or

Derek comes back toBeacon Hills after years of being gone and meets Stiles and his kid at thesupermarket.

~~

Make it Feel Like Home by redeyedwrath:

Maybe it would’vebeen different if things had never happened. Maybe it would’ve been different ifhe hadn’t persuaded Scott to go search in the woods. Maybe it would’ve beendifferent if he hadn’t been so stubborn. Maybe it would’ve been different if heand Scott had never met.

Maybe it would’ve been different, would’ve beenbetter, if he hadn’t been born in the first place.

He tightens his fingers on the steering wheel untilthey turn an ugly, bloodless color. The only good thing, in his opinion, that’dcome out of all of this, had been meeting Derek. Derek, who’d been an assholebut turned out to be the most loyal, kindest person Stiles knows.

He resists the urge to drive off the road and screaminto his palms. Beause Derek had left, and now he’s alone.

Or, an AU where Stiles runs away to find himself but finds Derekinstead.

~~

Misfire bymothlights, unpossible: (this one has less than fantastic Peter, buthe isn’t actively bad, and it’s amazing)

“The debt must berepaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. Thewords resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of hisjaw, and Stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because shedraws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILFnow there is Galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a Presence of unmistakablepower in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-Thai-takeout hallway.

“Oh shit,” Stilessays.

~~

And You Say You’re Alone by taelynhawker:

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter’suntimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derektry to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles dealswith the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he andScott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, andthat includes Stiles.

~~

The Art of Dying Well by kinneas:

Yousaid we’re friends.“

"Whoa, way to holdwhat a guy says in the heat of the moment against him,” Stiles repliesautomatically, but… that’s not what he wants to say, not at all, not to thequiet contemplation that is Derek Hale on his living room sofa. So he adds,“I guess, yeah.”

Derek doesn’t speak fora long moment. “Then it’s inevitable.”

“Wow,”Stiles whistles, “you are the biggest downer.”

~~

Gracious in Defeatby yodasyoyo:

Stiles needs to getaway from Beacon Hills after the end of his senior year. Derek offers to lethim stay with him in São Paulo, and they finally act on the tension that hasalways simmered between them.

The thing is, whenit’s time to go home- Stiles doesn’t want to leave.

~~

Crash Landers by gyzym:

In which Stiles learns to Stalk That Stalk.(Or, how to accidentally woo your unfriendly neighborhood alpha in roughly fivehundred handwritten steps.)

~~

**Not Quite Lost (Not QuiteFound) by alocalband:

A year after thenogitsune is defeated, Derek is living a quiet life in the mountains above asmall town in Colorado.

Then Stiles showsup.

~~

The Darkness Inside by isthatbloodonhisshirt:

The sheriff watchedhim for a moment, then he sighed and turned slightly. He reached out to open acabinet door beside him, and pulled out a shelf. It was on a track, so itrolled out of the cabinet fairly easily, and held a small CCTV. Derek frownedand inched his chair to the side a little bit so he could get a better angle.

He was looking at a teenager, or someone at least young enoughto be the same age as Scott. He was sitting on a bed in what looked to be alarger room, the area he was in surrounded by four glass walls, with his legscrossed and head tilted.

He was also staring directly into the camera, as if he knewsomeone was watching. A creepy smile slowly slid onto the teen’s face, and heheld up one hand, wiggling his fingers in a slow, eery wave.

Derek felt his mouth run dry. He didn’t know who this kid was,but he didn’t like him.

“Who is that?” he asked quietly.

“That,” said thesheriff, “is my son.”

~~

***Bravery is a Loaded Gun byLiviKate:

“No, I’m notasexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly.

The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy andhis neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection.

“So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable togive voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew betweenthem, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stilescouldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream ofuseless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry youdon’t find me attractive?’

In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totallydifferent conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they loveeach other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

~~

Warm shadows bystilinskisparkles:

“Fine,” Stiles spitsback, “We’ll die together, it’ll be dandy.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Derek snaps, “I’ll get some peaceand quiet for once.”

Stiles grinssuddenly, blindingly. There’s blood on his teeth, and his eyes are dark anddesperate as he looks up at Derek, but he’s never looked more stupidly,infuriatingly beautiful.

~~

Give Me Back My Bones (maybe thenwe’ll talk) by kariye:

Derek meets Stiles on a Wednesday. He comes infor his usual cup of coffee and somehow walks out with hot chocolate, cinnamonon the top, and no idea what just happened there.

~~

Romancing the Sourwolf. (OrStiles Stilinski’s Foolproof Guide to Getting Your Man) by lucyinthesoupwithcrutons:

The 15 year plan for Lydia was clearly thewrong way to go; Stiles won’t be making the same mistake with Derek. He decidesto do his homework this time.

~~

Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants:

He feels thephysical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mindstruggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shudderingbreath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish waythey’re weakly healing.

There is nothing, nothing he wants more than tohave Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known,though, that something like that would never happen to him.

OR -

Stiles accidentallygets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

~~

***SharingFood by aussiebee:

“Sharing foodwith another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged inlightly.” ― M.F.K. Fisher

Or

Derek is pretty muchabsorbed into the Stilinski family, one meal at a time.

~~

Derek Hale’s No-Good, Very BadDay by Mackem:

Derek hides from his day.

~~

***Start Small, Like Oak Treesby SmallBirds:

The months following Allison’s death havepassed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem tolose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts.Eventually, he thinks, he’ll just fade away. He isn’t sure anyone would notice.Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Haleattempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory theworld doesn’t seem so awful.He’s not sure what he’d been expecting when he eventuallyconvinces Derek to move into the Stilinski’s spare bedroom, but a newfoundpassion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn’t it.

~~

A Quiet Night (Not in theCards) by Delightful_I_Am:

“Derek fucking Hale!”

The shout rang through the bar and for a long moment nobodymoved. It was like something out of a movie. Everything just stopped; the musiccut off; one of the servers had frozen mid-pour. Grady would have laughed if heweren’t holding his breath. The kid straightened his shirt, a glimpse ofstomach showing the curling edges of a tattoo on his hip, and strode towardwhere Hale was sitting in the dark corner. As one, every supe in the placeturned to see Hale’s reaction; the last person to try to confront Hale in herehad left with a broken hand and a whispered threat that the next time Halewould rip their throat out. With his teeth.Unsurprisingly, Hale’s face was set in its usual glower, although it seemed abit softer around the eyes. It took Grady a second to realise Hale knew the kid.

~~

The blood blooms clean in you,ruby by m_leigh:

“You don’tremember, anymore, where exactly you were when you found out that she was dead.You remember almost everything else about her dying, though.”

Stiles Stilinski hasalways been the person who will do what other people don’t want to. It’s hard,though, when your friends keep trying to protect you. Post-S2.

~~

***Tide pullsfrom the moon by paintedrecs:

When Derek leftBeacon Hills, finally ripping the tether free and remembering how to breathe,how to live again, it was Stiles who came after him. Stiles, who showed up athis door with blazing eyes, looking like he wanted to punch him in the face,but wrapping his arms around him instead, making him grunt in surprise at theraw strength of his embrace.

“You asshole,”Stiles said, slapping him heartily on the back as he extricated himself, hisvoice rough under his bright smile. “You couldn’t have made yourself harder tofind, could you?”

~~

Homing Mechanisms by SmallBirds:

Magnetoreception:The sense which allows an organism to detect a magnetic field to perceivedirection, altitude or location. How birds find their way home.

–

Stiles returns toBeacon Hills after four years at Stanford, only to find out that Derek hasmoved back into town. He brings him a housewarming gift. Derek makes food.Things escalate from there.

~~

Parallax by uraneia:

Parallax: noun. Theeffect whereby the position or direction of an object appears to differ whenviewed from different positions, e.g., through the viewfinder and the lens of acamera.

With the pack (and Stiles) starting college, Derek is bored. Heneeds a hobby–or a job. Which is how he comes to model for Alpha Studios.

He just neverthought Stiles would end up working there too.

~~

Occam’s Razorby MissAnnThropic:

When Stiles goes to sleep, he’s ajunior in high school. He wakes up in a world where he’s twenty-four andmarried to Derek Hale. Stiles just can’t seem to catch a break.

Readalso: Stepping Off the Razor’sEdge which is a lot of healing for both our boys and beautiful.

~~

The Truth Is by BulletBlaze:

“Well, you should get going then-”“You could come around some time-”A pause.“Wait, what?”A blush bloomed across Derek’s cheeks, barely visible overthe top of his beard. He shrugged again.“If you wanted to. You could stop by while I’m fixing it up.Help me with some things. If you wanted to.”“You already said that,” Stiles, the idiot, mumbled indisbelief.Derek’s blush grew a shade darker.

~~

There’s a martyr in my bedtonight but it’s alright by crossroadwrite:

It’s a beautiful afternoon, and Derek is standing at a dusty gasstation, staring helplessly at the destroyed remains of the last thing hissister left him.

(OR: In which Derekexpects nothing from life, but with a little help from the Stilinskis getseverything.)

[jade-mod]

12, 24, 148!

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

augh picking favorites is hard!  Doesn’t help that I’m really bad at remembering titles to songs??  Sure didn’t do me any favors in music history & theory classes, heh!  Gonna ramble cause I’m not sure I can answer this question straight up:

Hmmm not really anything in particular I’ve been listening to right now, mostly random classical music that’s on the radio when I’m in the car, or when I’m doing stuff on the computer I’ll put on some assorted classical music on youtube, or soundtracks.  Have really enjoyed the like two pieces done by Mongolian band “The Hu”, which is surprising given its not one of my usual genres!

I have CDs I’ll usually reserve for longer car trips (that take me out of radio range of my usual stations), again mostly classical or soundtracks (esp LotR), but also some classic rock (if that’s what it’s called?  60s-80s I think? basically stuff I picked up from my parents).  A lot of the CDs aren’t in great shape though, probably need to make new ones at some point?

I’m also weirdly bad at picking up lyrics?  The only songs I’ve actually fully memorized the lyrics to (aaages ago mostly) are:  everything from “Dr Horrible’s Sing Along Blog”, Sound of Silence, The Winner Takes it All, and The Moon Rises.  Might be a bit rusty in some cases, infinitely easier to do it along with the music than without.  Probably could sing along with other songs , esp. disney songs, better than I think I can too.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

Wouldn’t have much of a routine if it weren’t for school, - and now work!  Weirdly don’t like having plans when it comes to doing things on my own, but once other people are involved I need to know what’s going on.  

Actually been somewhat enjoying the structure that my new weekday job brings, much preferable to the uncertainty of previous jobs (which did have schedules, but they didn’t mean much as I could easily be asked to not come in if things were slow or asked in constantly on my days off)  The constant looming threat of work made it impossible to plan anything else.

Definitely treasure getting home and getting on the computer to play games and check the tumblr.

148. What’s your favourite quote?

Aaaa I’m sure there’s a number, but it’s really hard to come up with in the moment?  There’s not any I like, live by.  Do I pick something from a book?  Movie?  Historical figure?  Something philosophical?  Funny??

I could probably spend way too much time and dig up a number of quotes, but I’ll just stick to this passage from Lord of the Rings where I genuinely had some hope for gollum the first time I read the books: (pff once again not really sticking to the letter of the question, this is more of a passage than a ‘quote’)

“Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo’s knee–but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing.“

…man of course that’s also making me think of other things I loved from those books, the ring tempting sam into thinking he could turn mordor into a garden, faramir refusing the ring, the whole scene with galadriel and the mirror and the ring, I AM NO MAN (though it might not be worded exaactly that way in the book?  gotta reread its been too long), so so much more.

… now that I’ve written this I’m sure in a little bit I’ll come up with some actual quotes from other things but I was blanking right now OH WELL

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Same Spirit, Different Body  (Thranduil x Reader)

This is a oneshot based on this imagine; also lots of people wanted this so I hope I don’t disappoint! 

The last conscious thought you had was a never-ending fall. And then you hit the ground. Looking around you noticed you were in a dark, creepy forest. Before being allowed to do anything, however, you passed out.

The second time you woke up was much more pleasant. A large fluffy bed cushioned your body, soft satin blankets enveloped you. Hair pulled back in a loose braid, soft robes covering your body- where once were simple jeans and a cotton shirt. Sitting up, your eyes roam around the room. It was big and open. A wide window letting in the sunlight and a light breeze, a white vanity with a matching armoire, and a writing desk in front of the open window. 

“Did I die?” you question yourself. This room seemed too perfect and beautiful to be real. 

“Ah you have awoken.” a bell-like voice exclaimed. Jumping in surprise, you quickly look in the direction of a door. A beautiful woman with long flowing hair stood in the doorway. “How are you feeling?” she questions, closing the door and walking towards you with light, dainty footsteps. 

“I-good.” you stutter, unsure of how to react. She’s stood in front of you, holding a glass of water. 

“Here. Drink this, child.” she holds the glass out to me. Shakily, you take the glass, drinking it, and realizing how parched you really were. “There now. King Thranduil has requested your presence as soon as you awoke.” you choke on the drink.

“K-King?” America doesn’t have any kings, and Thranduil is not a ruler I’m familiar with. 

“Yes. King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen or Mirkwood as you mortals know it,” she answers, grabbing the empty glass and setting it on the side table by the bed. 

“And where is that? Somewhere in Europe?” She pauses in her work of picking out a dress for me to wear. Turning around, she faces me.

“I’ve never heard of such places. You are in Arda, Middle Earth.” your thoughts swirl as a hurricane, confused on my circumstances. You shake your head in confusion, standing from the bed. She returns to picking out a dress as if nothing were amiss. 

“You will speak with the king immediately.”

“The guest, my king.” the elf guard tells a blonde elf, draped across a tree woven throne, a crown-fit for a woodland king- resting on his head. His eyes were a shocking blue, it felt like he could look right through you and read every thought in your mind. His features were sharp and elegant, putting every male model to shame. The king was gorgeous. You’d never seen anyone like him, and yet there was something about him that seems familiar about him. 

“Thank you. Dismissed.” Bowing, the guard turns and leaves, leaving you alone with the king. A moment of silence passes, you fidget -the silence suffocating- while he just simple observes you.

“Imagine my surprise when my guards told me of a human woman found unconscious on my forest floor.” he drawls, finally showing mercy and breaking the unbearable silence.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” you mutter, not sure how to reply to his statement, his intense stare causing you to feel flustered. A small chuckle escapes him. 

“Now, Irileth tells me that you claim to be from somewhere none have heard of. Do explain,” he commands.

“Earth. That’s where I’m from. I’ve never heard of this place.” you tell the king.

“Interesting. How did you get here?” he asks, cocking his head in curiosity. 

“I don’t know. The last thing I remember is falling, hitting the ground, and passing out,” you confess to him. “Please you have to believe me, I don’t- I’m not crazy. I know none of this makes sense. But you have to-” you ramble, not knowing if you’re trying to convince him or yourself of your sanity.

“I believe you,” he states, cutting you off.

“You do?” you ask him, disbelief evident in your tone.

“You will remain here in my court until we find further information.” he plainly states.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” you thank him, a wide grin on your face; relieved that he had believed you. 

“Your name?” he asks.

“Y/N.” you answer, beaming at the king. A somber look crosses his face, then it was gone as quick as it was there. He dismisses you with a nod. 

The first thing you wanted to do after the meeting with the king was to go visit the library. The possibilities of what it could contain were endless with the endless lifespan of elves. It certainly didn’t disappoint. The library was vast and gorgeous; books upon books. Now the only thing to possibly hope for is the ability to read the written words. It would make sense for the books in an Elven kingdom to be in elvish, a language you don’t speak. 

Walking over to the first bookshelf, you pick up the first book within your reach and open it. “The queen’s bright light dimmed, for she had perished. The king, in mourning, grew cold and emotionless after the loss of his love. However, as winter’s passed, a miracle was bestowed upon the king. The return of his wife. She looked new, felt new, and talked new, but held the same spirit.” The words were elegantly written and legible to you. 

“This is impossible.” you mutter, flipping through more pages, but they were all in English it appeared.

“May I inquire what you believe to be impossible?” turning around, you were faced with the elven king in all his glory. You quickly shut the book. There still seemed something familiar about him. “Perhaps I could offer assistance?” he continued.

“I just thought all these books would be in elvish, but I can read this.” You explain to the king, holding up the book in your hand.

“And why would that be an issue?” he presses, one of his eyebrows perfectly raised.

“I don’t speak elvish,” you tell him, slightly exasperated.

“My lady, we are speaking elvish now, as we always have been,” he tells you. Your head starts to spin. How do I know Elvish? You rub the temples of your head in an attempt to sooth the already forming headache. Then you feel another hand on your head, it only makes the spinning worse, flashes of memories you never experienced dance through your head.

A beautiful elven woman in a garden wearing a beautiful dress with a book. Then, the same female and King Thranduil dancing, spinning in a ballroom; a carefree smile on his face as she laughs a musical laugh. And then the two of them laughing while laying a bed tangled together.

Gasping in shock, your eyes shoot to King Thranduil, who immediately drops his hand from you. 

“I need to go,” he says, rushing out of the library. What just happened?

Your fingers trace patterns on the book in your hand, strolling through the beautiful garden. It had been 5 months since you had found yourself in Arda. No leads had been found on how you’d gotten here, yet you remained content with a life here in Mirkwood. 

“A fine day for a stroll is it not.” Turning around, you’re faced with the great Elven king, Thranduil. He’d been a persistent part of your new life since your arrival, after that strange moment in the library, becoming a great comfort to you. The cold king he’d been known as was nothing but warm towards you. You hadn’t noticed, but his people did. They saw the twinkle in his eyes return, compassion being shown outwardly by him. His ice heart was slowly melting with each day you were here. Thranduil felt an attachment towards you, a feeling fervently returned. Though either told the other.

“It is,” you answer him, a smile tugging on your lips. 

“Come, walk with me. There is something of great import I must relay to you.” After the strange thing that happened when he touched you that once, the both of you avoided ever touching. The two of you begin a steady pace through the gardens. “How have you been?” he asks, making conversation.

“Good. I made flower crowns with some of the children earlier today,” you tell him.

“The children do adore you,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. You hum in agreement. Elfings were adorable and you were more than delighted when they decided to spend as much time with you as possible.

“Now, you said you had something to tell me,” you ask.

“Yes, let us sit.” he guides the two of you to a small bench in the middle of the garden. Sitting down, him doing the same, you face him.

“When Lady Galadriel from Lothlorien paid a visit, she brought something to my attention. A feeling I had, but could not quite place.” taking a deep breath, he gazes deep into your eyes. A blush overtook your face at his fierce gaze. “You may be aware of my late wife.” Nodding, your face contorts to confusion. Why would he talk about his late wife with you?  “Your appearance here was no mere coincidence.” Your head cocks to the side, much like a puppy. “There is no easy way to say this, but you are her reborn. Born to another world, in a new body, and brought back to me. It was no mere coincidence you -quite literally- fell into my realm.” 

Your body froze as your mind began to race a thousand miles per hour.  That wasn’t possible. Wouldn’t you know if you were another person reincarnated? But that would explain why you feel as if you’ve known him for hundreds of years, or the things that occur when you touch. “I don’t understand,” you mutter more to yourself than to him. 

“Neither do I. But I do know how I feel when I’m with you.” he places his hand under your chin, making you look at him. A new hope lit up his eyes. But you couldn’t be the replacement for someone else. The shadow of a woman you could not- would not be.

“I’m not her,” you tell him. His expression doesn’t falter. 

“You are not; you are you. That is all I could want or need. Though you may share the same spirit, it is your heart that I fell in love with. The faults of Man I used to scoff at, are the things that make me fall in love with you every day.” Your eyes widen at his confession, heart pounding against your chest. Could you possibly dare to hope that this is real? 

“I- I feel the same.” you earnestly tell him, a wide smile breaking out on your face, his facial expressions mirroring yours. 

“I love you, meleth.” he tells you.

“And I love you.” you return. He leans forward at the same time as you, lips connecting in a kiss. His lips were as soft as you had imagined they would be, warm and comforting. A dozen memories begin to swirl around your head, all of Thranduil and the elleth you were in a past life. Too fast to decipher them, but enough to be comforted by them. The simple kiss conveyed all the feeling the two of you had grown to have for one another. Breaking from each other, barely an inch between your faces the both of you grinning like stupid fools. A question pops into your head.

“Does this make Legolas my son?” mirth laced in your question. Thranduil lets out a booming laugh before capturing your lips in his once more.

“I am glad you have returned to me, my queen,” he whispers into your ear.

Tagged:  @bellastellaluna @lazilysaltysweets  @imaginemarvellove