#Wish I drew more of the dwarves whatever

[donsgraveyard]

I watched Lotr and the hobbit like …two months ago and only made a handful of fanart which I just remembered I made

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. Can you write Dark!Thranduil and a plus size female reader ? Please.

.⋆｡Auta Nissë｡⋆.

Dark!Thranduil x human!plus size reader

She was unique, she was beautiful, she was soft and by the gods, she would be his

Warnings: DARK FIC, kidnapping, forced marriage, obsession, mentions of death, magic, manipulation, no use of y/n, drugging

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Title means kept woman

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was certainly curious, a woman among the group of dwarves his guards had brought him- and a human woman at that. She stood out from the group like a sore thumb, yet she fit in with them all the same. They crowded around her legs as if to shield her from his gaze, to protect her from whatever he had in store for the trespassers.

“How fascinating, a woman in your midst. Tell me, king under the mountain, is she your bed warmer or just a lost creature you took pity on?” He sat forward on his throne of knotted wood, his crystal blue eyes focused on her, taking in every inch of her face. She showed no fear, nor any offence to his crudeness. The king smirked, she would do well.

The dwarves around her exploded, each attempting to insult him in not only the common tongue but in their native language as well. He paid them no mind, letting his gaze drift down to her body. She was at least modest, a large white shirt and dark trousers hid her away, disguising her curves quite well but he could still see the bulge of her hips and the softness of her stomach.

She was unlike any woman he had encountered before. Her eyes held the fire of a warrior, her hands were as stable as a healer’s, and the protective stance of a mother. “Take them away, but leave the girl. I believe she will tell us what we wish to know.” He spoke over their shoats, ignoring the way that they all reached for her as if their pathetic efforts could somehow save her.

Her fingers curled into her palm but otherwise gave him no reaction to suddenly being isolated. Gracefully, he stood to his full height, easily towering over the woman, casting a dark shadow over her as he approached. “Why do you travel with such… filth?” He crooned.

“I was hired to do so.” She answered simply, her voice strong. It carried through the throne room like a lone instrument in a concert hall and settled into his bones, marking them with the melodic tones of her words. A fire began to grow in his loins.

He took a step closer, she did not flinch. “I could offer you a place here, in my court. Certainly your skills and your beauty would be of more value here than on some fruitless journey that will only end in death.” As he drew closer, more of her perfect imperfections became clearer- her moles and birthmarks, scars and blemishes, but to him, they were simply an extra detail in the statuesque flawlessness of her figure.

“If it ends in death, then that will be how I die.” She retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze once more as he was now only arm’s distance away. “I am human, death is not unknown to us.”

The side of Thranduil’s face burned with rage, reminding him of what he had lost to death all those many years ago. But that defiance, that drive so similar to that of his late wife, soothed the burn. “There are ways to cheat death, even for a human. But for now, it is my wish that you remain here until I decide how your quest shall continue.” With a flick of his slender wrist, he summoned two more guards.

They stood either side of her and began to lead her away. “You cannot stop fate, your highness.” She called, making him pause. The doors slammed closed behind her, leaving the great elven king to his thoughts.

——————

“I’m glad you joined me for dinner tonight.” He remarks while knowing that she had no choice. The Battle of The Five Armies had concluded months ago, Erebore was free and peace had finally settled over the land, yet Thranduil was still in the midst of his own war.

She refused his love. Isolating herself in the rooms he had so graciously given her, throwing away the luxurious food prepared fresh each day, even attempting to enact various escape attempts, but that had slowed significantly when she was moved to his own chambers and could be restrained each night in his arms.

Her silence irked him but he allowed it. “I wish that you would gain back some weight before the wedding.” She glared in response, merely sipping at her wine with her one free hand, the other bound to the ornate seat she was forced into. 

He sighed through his nose, hiding a smirk behind his own goblet. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drank the expensive liquor, savouring the sweet taste, unknowing that it was not the wine itself that gave the dark liquid its flavour. 

“Meletril.” (lover) He tuts, rising from his own chair to round the table. “Your hair is a mess. Let me fix it for you.” She was stiff as his slender fingers began to pick at her hair, delicately moving large strands into several braids. He worked quickly, the patterns and movements now an unconscious practice even if he had not practised in almost 1000 years.

“There, now I can properly see your pretty face.” His right hand cupped her full cheek, guiding her face upwards to him. Her eyes were now glassy, the potion he had snuck into her drink beginning to affect her, but her fire was still there, just existing as an ember now.

“This will not last, I will perish sooner or later and you will be left alone again.” She hissed, the bite in her tone significantly dulled. Yet Thranduil smiled and brushed her soft skin with his thumb before retreating back to his seat.

“Thorin sends his well-wishes, he is very excited about the wedding. And your little friend, what was his name, oh right! Bilbo, he will be journeying from the Shire with his nephew to attend.” Her nostrils flared with rage.

“Just kill me already! I am of no use to you other than a pet!” She cried, though her voice was beginning to slur as the magic took hold of her. 

The elven king slammed his hand on the table, immediately silencing her. “Enough! I have had enough of your silly rebellions and cruel words. You will be my wife simply because I love you. So no more silly speak of you being a pet, you are my equal, my queen but you obviously need to be reminded of your place. You are to never leave my side, death will not take you, I have made sure of that. Now eat.” Her eyes were now wide with panic, the truth finally settling in.

“What have you done?” Her skin began to glow as the transformation began. The king watched as all the indicators of her age were wiped away, the smile lines, the bags beneath her eyes, even scarring from the blemishes of puberty. She was ethereal, eternal now, just like him.

“I have changed your fate.”

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[glowyjellyfish]

OUAT Rewatch Report Part 3: Skin Deep through The Stranger

…yeah, I really binged the hell out of it with this session. I only intended to get past Dreamy and the next thing I knew I was almost done with the season.

1. Skin Deep is so good. I forgot how powerful Rumple’s breakdown in the past and present was. And it’s so interesting how Belle was both right and wrong about his rejection of her. Yes, he didn’t believe she could love him, but he also couldn’t give up his power because his entire plan to find his son would fall apart. And the fact that he lost his son is something he feels unforgivable and unlovable for, and he can’t let go of it because he let go before.

2. I’m not totally sure why Regina inserted herself into Rumple’s business in Skin Deep; clearly she figured he’d either lose his power with his curse broken or get his heart broken, but… why? She believed they were roughly on the same side at that point, I think? Probably just to get power over him, but I feel like it would be interesting to put the flashbacks in order and see whether there’s something she’s getting him back for. Although putting the flashbacks in order is a TRAP, I fell down that rabbit hole before and that way lies madness.

3. All I could think about with August the whole time is the silly stick figure comics I once drew making fun of his very bad plans to get Emma to believe. I enjoy him a lot, and had some feelings about him in these episodes, and his plans are SO BAD it’s hilarious.

4. I find myself constantly thinking about an old theory that I don’t think I came up with myself, about how all the cursed characters also lost the thing they loved most about themselves, and I think it’s strongest with David and his very wishy-washy behavior. This run of episodes are very clear, he does not have the bravery and honor of Charming.

5. god I hate the episode Dreamy it’s so bad and so cheesy. the worst thing about it is that there are good things, mainly in the present day B plot, but the flashback A plot feels like it was written for five year olds. and what’s worse, they could have taken this plot and made it be about how dwarves are manufactured slaves working for the fairies, or about how Blue is manipulative and unsympathetic when it doesn’t serve her needs. Getting something interesting out of it. But they didn’t, it’s just dumb.

6. I still think Red-Handed may be the best episode of season 1. Such a good, well-told story. Complete arcs in both the flashbacks and present day that complement and inform one another while also advancing the plot. Not exactly the most surprising twist to Little Red Riding Hood, but played to perfection. I’m a sucker for a werewolf story, but come on this episode is fantastic. Going out of its way to show Red’s strengths and how they aren’t what one would expect just knowing surface things about her. (and I am of the opinion that Whale was trying to be gentlemanly by escorting her where she was going, and it came off badly because of his past behavior)

7. This run of episodes is when the Snow and Charming and Mary Margaret and David melodrama began to get tiresome. I think it was supposed to be that way, because Regina is trying very hard to keep them apart and punish Snow, but they could have made that more clear.

8. I love how Rumple basically does everything but smoosh Snow and Charming together yelling “NOW KISS”

9. I’m not the biggest fan of Jefferson; I like him better in flashbacks and am still annoyed people wanted to ship him with Emma given his entire creepy nutball behavior in this episode. But Sebastian Stan does act his little heart out, doesn’t he? I would have liked it more if they pushed “memories of both worlds plus 28 years in a gilded cage Time loop drove him even more crazy than he already was” more than “oooh mad hatter sexy” but whatever, he gets the job done. I really wish they had actually explained him at any point, though. Why does he have a magic portal hat, especially if he doesn’t know how to make one? If he didn’t make it, why is he the only one that can use it—I know in the long term he isn’t, because the actor stopped being available. For the sake of his episode, I guess Regina mainly needed him to show her how it worked and to serve as ballast so she could get her father home, and she played up admiring his skills so he would feel like she needed him and not the hat… but still. how did this random guy become the portal-jumping keeper of the hat.

10. So, we more or less know that Regina went out of her way to curse Victor and Jefferson, despite them being in other worlds, because they were involved in destroying what hope she had left (or something, I’ll see when I get to that episode). I already speculated about how Regina designed Victor’s cursed personality, so… Jefferson. He’s quite clear about the way in which he is cursed, but it’s also kind of a big complicated knot. For some reason, she wanted him to know he abandoned his daughter for wealth—that’s how she would describe it, anyway. I can see how she took offense at that even though she manipulated him into it, but I’m not sure it makes sense that she also apparently wanted him to know everything. How could she guarantee he’d never have anybody stumble upon his house? Magic I guess, but dude Regina you could have just given him a cursed personality where his daughter is being kept from him with a restraining order or something. Why take the risk?

11. it is incredibly sad that Regina took all her anger at her murderous, manipulative, abusive mother and focused it on an easily manipulated child and then defined her life around that hate. And Young Regina insists she would be happy with Daniel no matter how they had to live, and she does seem to enjoy being hands-on, but my gut tells me that if Cora hadn’t murdered Daniel, they might have ended up more like pre-OUATW Will and Anastasia than Snow and Charming. Which is, of course, a similarity that OUATW noted and played with. I’m not sure how badly I think it might have gone, but Regina likes nice things and it would have been harder than she’d expect.

12. It fascinates me so much that despite all his power, Rumple is still constantly brought down by his cowardice. He thought having power would remove fear, but he still doesn’t know how to deal with it. At least, I’d have to track his behavior through a carefully sorted timeline to see if he improves or just keeps stomping out potential fears with his power; it’s a flaw of his that keeps popping up.

13. This run of episodes features key evidence for the Blue Is Shady theory, the theory that I believe is constantly hinted at but never once followed up on. She seems very eager to eliminate the Dark One, and quite dishonest and manipulative in how she is going about it. It does not seem to be the source of Rumple disliking fairies, and either way I’m with him on that. They are super cheesy and their outfits are dumb, and it’s not hard to conclude that their cutesiness is meant to distract from their own agenda and manipulative actions. why was Blue so invested in granting wishes to the Gepetto family? What’s up with that? And can’t help but feel like she went to a lot of trouble to arrange herself a potential foot soldier in August, keeping him behaving the way she deems correct with the threat of turning back into wood. And what preparations did the fairies have to make when the curse happened? So shady.

14. this show was very good at dropping Intriguing hints all over the place; the problem was when it stopped picking them up and resolving them. I suspect I like some degree of that. I like shows that leave enough puzzle pieces and holes lying around for me to lose my mind trying to fill, only to then lose interest when it becomes clear the show never intended to follow up on any of those things.

15. I always lived for moments like tiny baby Pinocchio getting terrified by a plane. The other ones I remember right now are Rumple getting on a plane, and in OUATW Cyrus and Alice being amazed at Will’s apartment and playing with the light switch.

Tonight I should finish season 1 and start season 2. I’m also planning to insert OUATW during s2 when it takes place, alternating between the two shows, so it’ll take some time to get through.

Also, I had trouble picking out good gifs for each episode, so today I am just doing a set of gifs describing August, because let’s face it he has now peaked, this is his only moment to shine. I probably could have made a bunch more, because Bart’s an easy comparison, but these were all gifs I already had.

[lilxberry]

Lost Then Found - Bofur

Requested By: @prestongoodplayisbabey​

Could I have a Bofur x reader where the reader gets lost (she’s part of the company) and when Bofur and the rest find her she’s eating a bear she caught with her own hands? I loved ur fic for @iwazoomingouttahere 💕

It’s probably a little different to what you were expecting but who doesn’t love a surprise amiright?! Also, I’m really glad that you liked the other fic so much that you wanted to request something for yourself so I hope that you like it

Warnings: A lil bit sad, wouldn’t say angsty though. Fluff. Mentions of death (animal). Mentions of blood. Mentions Bofur without his hat lmao. I think that’s it, don’t quote me on that.

Words: 2,713

Pairings: Bofur x Reader (female reader)

_______________

It was definitely NOT your fault when you had become separated from the company. Everyone takes a wrong turn occasionally and loses the entire group they were travelling with. Right? It’s not like you heard a strange noise a bit away and went to investigate and when you returned, you found that they pressed on without you. If anything, it’s THEIR fault you were now separated from you. The big knuckleheads are completely oblivious sometimes. Anywho, that isn’t the point. It most certainly, definitely, absolutely WASN’T your fault.

Honestly, you actually had no clue in which direction they took off in but nevertheless, you followed your gut. They’re quite the noisy bunch so it shouldn’t be too hard to find them if you were on the right track. So, when you hear no rowdy group of 13 dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard, you deducted that you either went the wrong way of they finally learnt the meaning of the word silence.

_______________

You huffed as you sat down on the damp ground as you were surrounded by forestry. The towering trees and shrubbery provided great cover for when you slept alone at night. You brought your knapsack that contained your bedroll over to your side where you rested against the mossy tree. You wrestle your bedroll from its confinement within your sack and roll it out, ready for when you rest when it gets darker.

As you finish up sorting your sleeping arrangement, you turned and looked at the slight clearing which you’ve chosen to set up camp before groaning slightly and setting out ready to find whatever you could for kindling the fire you plan to build. You set out slightly away from where you’ve set up your bedroll and knapsack and begin searching the ground for anything that isn’t to damp and will burn.

All you can think about as you collect fuel for your campfire is of the company, more specifically, a certain dwarf who had captured your heart with his whittling, singing and goofy hat that never leaves his head. You sigh, wondering if he even cared that you had disappeared, if any of them cared really. You had been separated for almost a week, surely, they noticed at least.

You shake your head. ‘Of course, they care.’ You groaned as you realised you practically came to a standstill as your mind wandered instead of doing what you intended on doing so. You look at the singular stick within your hand and huff. “It’s gonna be a long night…”

_______________

Bofur’s mood had been off lately, everyone could tell, especially his brother and cousin. They all dearly missed Y/N and were concerned about where she is now and whether she is safe, but it’s Bofur who’s losing his mind over his missing One.

Bofur knew the moment he first laid on the girl that she was his One, he almost instantly confided in his brother and cousin about the subject. He even asked Balins’ ear off over what he should do. He loved how Y/N’s smile always happened to brighten up his day, or how her laugh could lure any man for it was easily mistakable for a sirens call.

He even loved how she was the only person to truly make him flush a deep red. She matched him perfectly when it came to humour, making him flush when a sarcastic, dirty joke passed her lips.

The dwarf sighed as he sat himself down on a log beside his cousin and the young princes’. The three all shared a concerned look towards each other then turned their gaze towards the love stricken, hat wearing whittler.

“Don’t worry Bofur, we’ll find her.” Fíli spoke, placing a comforting hand atop his companions’ shoulder, offering a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. She’s probably right on our ass knowing her.” Kíli joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Bofur could only offer a solemn shrug and a smile that couldn’t meet his eyes. The brothers turned to Bifur, hoping he would know what to say.

Bifur shook his head and shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly before looking towards his cousin and offering him the most comforting of smiles he could muster up. “We will find her soon. I promise cousin. We will find your One.”

Bofurs’ smile a tad bit more genuine at his cousins’ words. He sat up that little bit straighter before standing and facing towards Bombur who stood near the campfire. “I’m gonna see if Bombur needs help lads, thanks.” And with that, he slugged his way over, looking down towards the ground and sighing out deeply.

“Where the bloody hell are ya, lass…”

_______________

You head away from your camp and towards the deeper parts of the woods, ready to hunt for your meal. Crouching low to the ground, you spot small tracks, a rabbit most likely. You slowly and quietly followed the small tracks, hoping to come across meat for your food.

A small crackle within the bushes before you forced you to snap your head up. You smiled victoriously as you raised your bow and arrow, steadying your breathing, bringing your elbow back past your ear, forcing you to stare down the length of the piercing wood with a steel pointed head. ‘Got you, ya bastard.’

Just before you released your arrow to send the arrow piercing through the air, the small rabbit emerged from behind the bush, standing on its hind legs, revealing itself as not a small rabbit like you intended to find but a large, burly bear covered in a dark, fur coat.

You fell backwards from your crouched position on to your behind, clamping a hand over your mouth, your breathing becoming increasingly heavier, almost hyperventilating. Your eyes were wide with fear as the bear raised its snout into the air and sniffs, almost as if it were searching for you. You slowly crawled away backwards, putting some distance between you and the beast.

Your efforts had practically been futile.

The bear whipped its head towards you in a flash, staring at you for moment, a moment where you could only hold your breath and pray to whatever God could hear you. The beast released a loud, ground shaking roar, a heavy growl underlining it before it burst out into a run towards you. You scrambled to stand quickly and take lengthy steps back as you drew your sword, unsheathing it from its position at your hip, your bow and arrow long forgotten on the dirt ground.

It lunges towards you and you let a piercing scream tear its way through your throat. You drove your sword up into the chest cavity of the beast as it fell down from the force of its attack, impaling the beast on to your weapon.

It bawled out and whimpered in pain as it laid dying atop of your smaller form. You struggled to worm yourself out from underneath the beast and laid yourself beside it, sprawled out like a starfish and chest heaving heavily as your tried to catch your breath. “I’m sorry…” you whispered to the bear, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye.

You rolled on to your side and slowly came to a stand. You retrieved your dagger from your belt and stepped closer to the corpse. Embedding the blade into the bear, you began to skin and salvage any possible meat from the beast, your body quickly being covered in the luke-warm crimson liquid.

“I’m so, so sorry…”

_______________

The company had sat around the fire, eating whatever Bombur had been able to form into an appetising broth when they heard the loud roar of a beast. They all momentarily paused, all either halting their chewing or stilling the movement of the spoon coming closer to their mouths.

Their eyes travelled along each other as they sat a few moments in silence, some slowly lowering their bowls down, cautious if any over the few decibels they were making would draw whatever it was to them. But once they heard the feminine scream moments after, they jumped up and raced towards whatever they hoped to find.

Everyone was hopeful that it was their missing lass, all the while they wished it weren’t. The scream could never be a good sign. Bofur was the first to spring to action and burst through the treelines to head deeper into the woodland. All he could think is that his One could be in danger and he isn’t with her to protect her.

The others followed suit, rushing towards whatever it was. They dodged and weaved through trees and climbed over and under branched and roots. They ran and ran until they came across the carcass of a bear, a large one at that. It was partially missing some fur along with most of the meat that once encased its bones.

They searched the area, high and low. As Kíli crouched low towards the ground, he noticed the strange disturbances the ground had gone through. He assumed it was that of someone shuffling backwards in a vulnerable state. He brought the scuffle evident in the dirt to Thorins’ and the companies attention.

They backtracked the marks in the dirt and found where they had started, near a bush. They continued to search but one discovery had sent everyone into a state of panic and fear. Your bow and a singular arrow.

“She must’ve been here. You cannot deny it is hers!”

Finding your own tracks that came from your boots hadn’t been difficult to do. So, with that, they hastily followed your footprints, double and triple checking they were on the right track. A million thoughts whirled through their heads. What had happened? Were you alright? Had you been injured?

Bofur felt an array of emotions as he tailed the company, perplexed about what he had hoped to find. He so desperately hoped it was you, but what if they found you in a condition they so desperately didn’t want to come across. What he didn’t want to come across. He would never forgive himself if you had been injured or worse, never forgiving himself for not being able to protect you. His woman, his One.

He prayed to Mahal all throughout their search for you and soon, he found his prayer answered. There you were, sat beside a small campfire atop a thick coat of black fur, turning large chunks of meat over the fire, roasting it for your meal, all the while you were still covered nearly head to toe in nearly crisp dry blood.

Bofur dropped his weapon to the floor and rushed over to you, causing you to jump near enough a foot off the ground. “Mahal, Y/N, I’ve been worried sick!” He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug, dis-concerned about the blood, your shocked face and the other members who watched on. He pulled back ever so slightly and cup your face in between his hands, staring at you intensely. “Where did you run off to?!”

You swallowed down the dry lump that had formed into your throat and looked into his eyes, the other members of the company momentarily forgotten. “I uh-I heard a noise, so I went to check it out and when I came back, you guys weren’t there…” you trailed off, tears forming in your (E/C) orbs, threatening to spill at a moments notice. “I…I thought you guys didn’t care…”

The dam had broken and you now openly sobbed, tears had begun to stream down your face like salty waterfalls. Bofur had reacted quickly, bringing you into yet another hug, seeming more desperate than the last. You clung on to him like a scared child would cling on to their mother as you wept and wept into his chest. The other members all watched with saddened eyes, their hearts breaking the slightest at the thought of you thinking they hadn’t cared that you had disappeared.

“We’re right here lass, I’m right here. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Bofur whispered sweet, soothing words in your ear as he laid a gentle kiss upon your forehead. “I ain’t ever letting you out of my sight ever again, ya hear?” You sniffled and even released the faintest of giggles as you lifted your head up to look Bofur in the eye. He smiled down at you and you could do nothing but return it with a tiny one of your own. “Aye, there’s my lass and that beautiful smile. Not as beautiful as mine though.” He spoke to you with such love and care.

You had laughed once more, always thankful for Bofur and his attempt at making others smile. “I missed you.” You whispered, leaning your forehead against his own.

He beamed towards you as the words passed your lips. “I missed you more, amrálíme.” He spoke not even a decibel louder than you before planting his lips firmly against your own. You froze, shocked by what was happening, but before you knew it, you melted into the kiss and matched his passion and love, raising your arms to wrap loosely around his neck.

The company all had smiles etched across their faces, some of them cheering and realising high pitched wolf whistles. You two broke the kiss as if remembering you were surrounded by others. You flushed a deep red whilst Bofur only seemed to beam towards you once more.

“I would like it if you would allow me to court ya and braid your hair, lass.” He spoke with such confidence that it almost made you neglect the pink tint his cheeks adorned. All you could do was nod and smile sheepishly as your blush intensified. He grinned from ear to ear and kissed you once more, one you happily returned.

Parting, he stood and extended his hand down towards you. You placed your smaller hand into his own before his encased yours and pulled you gently to stand beside him. As soon as you gained your balance, Bombur had rushed towards you and crushed you in his own embrace, him clearly missing you a lot just like his brother. You chuckled as you hugged him back, the company also finding Bomburs affection amusing. It even elicited a deep, throaty chuckle from the ever-brooding Thorin.

You all headed back towards the camp the company had set up, not without grabbing your belonging along with the meat and fur you obtained for the bear you had the misfortune of running into. Bofur had a protective arm around you the entire time, not even removing himself from your side once you had reached the camp.

Bombur and Bifur had taken it upon themselves to cook yet another meal for the company, seeing as you had salvaged much meat from the beast. You all sat and ate, they barraged you with questions about the week you had been separated from them. They even asked about the bear you had taken down and how you lugged so much its meat back towards your makeshift sleeping area.

As you talked and talked with the company on how you had no clue if you were even heading in the right direction towards them, Bofur stared at you lovingly, afraid that if he were to blink, you would become separated once again.

He thanked Mahal a million times over in his head, thankful that they had found you again, that he had found you again. He smiled, removing his hat which he then proceeded to place atop of yours. It fell past your eye, obstructing your vision, causing you to push it up whilst you giggled.

Bofur released a chuckled of his own as he brough you further into his side and rest his head on top of yours. “Amrálíme?”

You smiled as you hear his hushed use of the affectionate name. “Yes Bofur?”

“I love you.”

You turned and looked up at him through your eyelashes, that hat of his threatening to fall over your eyes once again and smiled. “I love you.” You snuggled further into his warm, loving embrace and you both sighed in happiness and contentment.

He’ll be damned if he ever got separated from his One ever again. And Mahal help whoever stands in his way.

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First fic uploaded in 2021, lets gooooo!

It’s a little different to what the requester probably envisioned but the overall plot is still there so all I can hope is that they like it

BRO I HATED THAT I HAD TO WRITE ABOUT KILLING A BEAR, THAT SHIT SAD BRUH lmao

I hope you all enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

Destiny Calling: Chapter Six

You watched Boromir with Merry and Pippin, him teaching them to fight. You bit into the Lembas bread smiling. "Two, Three, Four, Five. Good, very good." Boromir instructed the two spirited hobbits. "Move your feet." Aragorn said making you chuckle. "That’s good, Merry." You said, Merry slightly out of breath. "Thanks!" Merry said. You smiled at Pippin as he picked up his blade. Pippin seemed to be the hobbit closest to you, for whatever reason. Sam though, seemed to enjoy your company as well. Well actually, all of the hobbits seemed to like you and Boromir. Gimli though, was about the only one in the fellowship who disliked having you, for whatever reason. "Faster" Boromir instructed.

"Anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they’re not, I’d say we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome." Gimli suggested. You tensed up, being aware that the mines of Moria were no longer safe... It was a very dangerous passage. "No Gimli, I would not take the roads through Moria unless I had no other choice." Gandalf said. "Come on. Good." Boromir said to Pippin. He accidentally hit his hand, halting his action. "Are you alright?" you asked. "GET HIM!" Merry yelled. "FOR THE SHIRE!" Pippin yelled before the two hobbits tackled Boromir. You laughed and Aragorn smiled, looking at you.

You felt something, Legolas feeling that same sensation. The feeling of being watched. You stood up, walking over to the edge of the mountain and looking. "What is that?" Sam asked. "Nothing, just a whiff of cloud." Gimli dismissed. "It’s moving fast…against the wind." Boromir observed. "Crebain from Dunland!" You gasped. "HIDE." Aragorn said. "Merry! Frodo!" Boromir called, them hiding with him. You all took cover, out of sight of the spies.

"Spies of Saruman! The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras." Gandalf said after you all came out from your hiding spots. And so you did, taking the treacherous mountain path. You walked through the snow, having trouble fighting the winds. Frodo fell, rolling back and you turned. "Frodo!" you yelled, rushing over. You helped him lean up, Frodo patting his chest down, looking for the ring. You looked around before seeing Boromir lifted the chain and held it up. He looked at the ring, seeming very mesmerized by it. "Boromir." Aragorn called. "It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing… such a little thing." he muttered, looking at it. "Boromir, give the ring to Frodo." Aragorn said, watching him. He seemed to snap out of his gaze, looking at Frodo and handing it to him. "As you wish. I care not." He said.

He seemed to not notice how intensely he seemed to be so fixated on the ring or how you and Aragorn both were about to reach for your swords. He ruffled Frodo's hair before walking with the group. You and Aragorn exchanged a look before walking. You all attempted to walk through the pass, everyone with the exception of you and Legolas struggling to walk in the snow. You and Legolas both stopped, hearing a voice. "There is a fell voice on the air." Legolas said. "Its Saruman!" Gandalf yelled. Snow fell, barely missing the group by inches. "He’s trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!" Aragorn yelled. "No!" Gandalf responded, trying to press on. "We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!" Boromir suggested. "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn yelled, trying to be heard over the winds. "If we cannot pass over a mountain, let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria." Gimli said. You looked to Gandalf, exchanging a look. "Let the Ring Bearer decide." Gandalf said. You looked over at Frodo. "We will go through the mines.." He said. That was the last place you wanted to go.

You kept your thoughts to yourself, walking with the group before stopping. Boromir turned and you stumbled, gripping your head as you fell. Boromir ran over, kneeling to you. "Are you alright Y/n?" He asked. You kept seeing flashes, flashes of a battle. Gandalf falling, some creature made of fire falling with him. "Y/n, are you alright?" Boromir repeated. You looked over at Gandalf. You cannot stop destiny. You knew that. There were plenty of stories that existed that proved that. You slowly stood up. "Yes... I'm fine, sorry for worrying you." you whispered. "What was your vision?" Legolas asked. "I'm not entirely sure." You admitted.

Frodo accidentally slid his foot in the water, you pulling him back. He nodded as a thank you before you both walked over. "Now, let’s see. Ithildin -- it mirrors only starlight and moonlight." Gandalf said, standing in front of the doors. "It reads 'The doors of Durin - Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter.'" Gandalf read aloud. You rose a brow, looking at it. "Edhellen edro hi ammen! (Gate of the Elves open now for me!)" Gandalf said. Silence. No doors opening. Nothing. You looked at Gandalf confused. "Eldarinwa a lasta quettanya, Fenda Casarinwa! (Gate of Elves listen to my word, Threshold of Dwarves!)" He said. Again... Nothing. You sighed and walked over to Sam and Aragorn." The mines are no place for a pony, even one so brave as Bill." Aragorn said to Sam, taking his reins off. The horse walked off and Sam seemed sad to let it go. "Don't worry Sam, he knows the way home." You said, putting a hand on his shoulder as reassurance. Sam smiled at you. "Can you speak with animals too or is it just nature?" Sam asked curiously. You chuckled. "Very few of us can communicate with animals but there are some who can. I sadly am not one of them." You said. "Interesting." Sam said, waiting for you to say more. You chuckled, sitting on a rock and patting it to indicate he should sit with you as you discussed your abilities. Aragorn smiled before hearing splashes.

Merry and Pippin were skipping stones, Aragorn stopping them. "Do not disturb the water." He said. "Oh, it’s useless!" Gandalf grunted in frustration. Frodo stood up, walking to the door and looking at it. "It’s a riddle. Speak 'friend' and enter. What’s the Elvish word for friend?" Frodo asked you. "Mellon." You answered. The doors opened and you jumped before smiling. "Your mind is nearly as sharp as your blade Frodo." you said with a chuckle. He smiled before Gimli spoke. "Soon master elf you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!" Gimli walked into the area and you kept close to Aragorn, listening to the stones within the walls. You frowned and looked at the area. "What's wrong?" Boromir asked. "This is no mine... This is a tomb." you said, everyone looking at you. Gimli looked down, seeing skeletal remains of dwarves. "NO!" Gimli gasped. Legolas picked up an arrow from one of the corpses before tossing it. "Goblins." He said. "We make for the Gap of Rohan, we never should've come here." Boromir said, turning back. The four hobbits stepped back, something in the water behind you stirring. "Get out of here, now!" Boromir said.

Something snatched Frodo's foot, dragging him towards the water. You drew your two swords, Aragorn standing next to you. Sam slammed his sword into the Watcher, forcing it to drop Frodo. It seemed to sink back into the water before the Watcher slammed the other hobbits back, grabbing Frodo again. You leapt forward, holding your blades close to you as you dodged strategically through the Watcher's attacks. Aragorn kept close, countering any attacks directed at you. You and Boromir struck, the main tentacle, forcing it to drop Frodo. You caught him, running to shore with Aragorn, Frodo and Boromir. "Into the Mines!" Gandalf yelled. "Legolas! Aim for his eye! Come on!" Boromir called. Legolas shot an arrow into the Watcher's eye, all of you ran into the mines, slamming the door before a tentacle could grab you. You fell, Aragorn kneeling and holding you close. "Are you alright?" He asked. "Yes, I'm fine. Tripped trying to run from that thing." you breathed. Gandalf lit up his staff, everyone looked up.

"We now have but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." Gandalf warned. You got up, sheathing your swords. "Quietly now. It’s a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed." Gandalf said as you all walked.

The journey seemed very dangerous, Aragorn watching you carefully. He was definitely anxious about any visions you may have considering you had a tendency to fall or stumble. You were on a cliffside, one slip and you could die. Anxiety left him though, when you all stepped out into what appeared to be a room. "I have no memory of this place." Gandalf muttered staring at three different passages. You all ended up sitting around, waiting for Gandalf to remember the way. You felt the sensation of feeling watched again. You paused before turning. Two large eyes watched you. You whispered a question. "What watches us?" So quiet even Aragorn didn't hear. "Gollum" was the answer. You recognized the name.

"Aragorn... The prisoner you took to Mirkwood for questioning. What was its name again?" You asked. He looked at you as you seemed to stare at something. "Gollum. Why?" He asked. "Its here." you said, looking at the creature on a rock. He was watching Frodo with wide eyes. Aragorn stood up, ready to fight but you stopped him. "Do not attack anything here, unless it attacks first." you muttered. He nodded, sitting back down but watching the creature with caution.

You all sat around again once Gollum went out of sight, speaking amongst the group. Aragorn smoked his pipe and you rolled your eyes. "That cannot be good for you." You muttered. "Trying to keep me healthy?" He asked, a grin on his face. You chuckled. "Excuse me if I want you to live a long prosperous life." you said. Gimli rose a brow but said nothing. "If you can speak to nature, why haven't you asked for a way forward?" Boromir asked curiously. "I don't know any routes through here or what's on the other side. I have to be able to ask a question like 'Where is the way to Gondor'. I cannot ask questions like 'Where's the quickest way out' that would probably put us in a dangerous place. Nature is very literal." you explained. Boromir nodded. Your logic seemed very sound and Boromir decided not to press you any further.

"What good are your abilities if you can't provide basic information?" Gimli asked. You looked over. "I can sense danger master Gimli." You said. "As can the other elf." He muttered. You rose a brow looking at him. "I'm sorry, do you have a problem with my presence?" You asked. "what good have you done for this group? You've just been standing next to master Aragorn or with Gandalf." Gimli huffed. "I've been trying to map a safe route for us master Gimli." You said, keeping your cool. Aragorn looked at the dwarf, his eyes warning him that he was treading on thin ice. Gimli sighed. "I just don't see the point in two elves being here." He huffed. "Yet you don't seem to have as strong of an opinion over master Legolas." Pippin noted. "Oh that's ridiculous, I hate them both!" He huffed. You blinked, as did Legolas. "So that's it then? You hate us?" You asked. "Yes." He huffed. "so you know nothing of me yet you choose to hate me?" You asked. "It doesn't matter, you elves all think the same. You're bound to look down on everything anyway!" He said. "All have you know, I don't! I actually agree with some of your opinions." You said. "I have already heard your tale of being raised by that so called 'King Thranduil'! You probably support him-" "He's an ass." You said with no hesitation. Everyone turned to you. "We're no longer in Rivendell so I will speak freely. Thranduil rules with the ego the size of mount doom itself. When I lived in Mirkwood I did not do so willingly and I often felt like a prisoner" you huffed. Boromir rose a brow. "Why were you sent to Mirkwood?" He asked.

You sighed, looking down. "When I was ten I had an experience that should've killed me. It was a troll. Wandered off its path I suppose but I nearly died. My mother was so... Tired... She was exposed to torture years after I was born and she never recovered... She sailed off to the undying lands after me being sent away to Mirkwood." You muttered. Legolas put a soothing hand on your shoulder. He knew you blamed yourself for your mother's choosing to die. It wasn't true, she had made her mind up a long time before you but she stayed because of you. When Elrond wanted to move you away to somewhere safer that was her sign. Her moment to leave. Did it pain Celebrián to leave? By the Valar, yes. Leaving her sons, her daughters and her husband was painful. But living with mental and physical scars that wouldn't leave, staying in a forest that once provided comfort but now provided nightmares was too much.

Gimli felt a ting of guilt. He opened his mouth but closed it. "Was your mother a good woman?" Gimli finally asked. You looked up at him. "She was the kindest woman I knew." You admitted, recalling the gentleness of your mother. You may have been merely ten when she left but she certainly would be something you wouldn't forget. Aragorn had heard you speak of her on occasion, knowing that the necklace you wore was actually your mother's rather than your own. You would fidget with it when you were deep in thought, it being a habit you picked up from your mother as well. Gimli looked at you with a sigh. "I seemed to have misjudged the lass. But I'm still uneasy around the lad." Gimli said. You looked at Legolas confused. "Why?" You asked. "The man steps too quiet, it's not natural." Gimli said. Sam smiled and you laughed, Pippin chuckling with you.

"Oh! It’s that way." Gandalf said, getting up. You stood up, stretching as you did. "He’s remembered!" Merry said happily. "No, but the air doesn’t smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose." Gandalf said making you smile.

You all went through the passage, it being more open than the last. You were surrounded by stone, you could feel it, hear it even. You just couldn't see it. "Let me risk a little more light." Gandalf again, used his staff to light the way, revealing a large hall with stone pillars. You stared in awe at your surroundings. "I take it this is what you meant as a 'royal welcome'?" You asked Gimli. He grunted in response making you sigh. "Behold the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf." Gandalf said. "Now there’s an eye opener and no mistake." Sam said. More walking ensued as you stepped forward.

Gimli saw a ray of sunlight in a room, running to it. He expected a warm welcome, perhaps a surprise from one of his relatives. Instead, he was met with a crypt. "No." He whispered. He dropped his axe, falling to his knees in front of the crypt. You ran in stopping at the sight of the dead scattered through the room. "'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. Its as I feared." Gandalf muttered as Gimli grieved. Gandalf handed you his staff, you taking it as he kneeled to one of the corpses and lifted a book. Pippin stepped out of his way, looking at a cobweb filled skeleton. "They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep." Gandalf read. He turned the page. "We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out…They are coming." He read aloud. Pippin, in a moment of dumb curiosity, poked the skull of the skeleton, knocking it into the well along with a bucket.

Everyone froze, not daring to make a single sound as the skeleton and bucket clattered, echoing through the caverns. Pippin winced and you swallowed, Aragorn pulling you closer to him. After a few moments of silence you all relaxed. "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" Gandalf snapped. You frowned, hearing drums and noticing Frodo's sword. "Frodo!" Sam gasped. "Orcs." you breathed. Boromir looked out, arrows missing his face by mere inches. "Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn told the hobbits. He dropped the torch he was holding, assisting Boromir in closing the doors. You heard something that made your heart drop. "They have a cave troll." Boromir said, exasperated by the forces to come. Legolas scrambled for weapons to help blockade the door, you helping him. "Aarrgghhh!!! Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria that still draws breath!" Gimli shouted. They began to break through, Aragorn and Legolas armed with bows, ready to fire.

You lifted a bow from one of the corpses, finding arrows and aiming. "You can use a bow too?" Sam asked. "I had a great trainer." you muttered. "Thank you." Legolas said as you fired at one of the orcs attempting to break through. It clearly hit your target seeing as it howled in pain. "Beautiful face and a good shot, by the valor do you get any better?" Aragorn muttered making you smirk. You fired another arrow before they broke through, tossing the old bow aside and drawing your blades.

Boromir fought, seeing Aragorn protect you. He noticed what everyone seemed to ignore. You were Aragorn's sword, he was your shield. You cut down an orc next to Boromir before hearing the cave troll. "shit." you breathed, Aragorn standing near you. Legolas fired an arrow at it, provoking it even more. Sam narrowly dodged an attack, sliding under it and running out behind it. "THE CHAIN!" You said, the men grabbing the troll's chain and yanking it back before it could attack Sam. It swung, hitting Boromir and slamming him against a wall. Boromir looked up to see an orc ready to kill but watched as someone decapated it from behind. He looked up to see you, pulling him up. "Are you alright?" you asked. He nodded before you ran back into battle. Gimli threw an axe at the troll, jumping off of the tomb before it geared up to strike again, this time Legolas being the one to intervene. The troll swung its chain at Legolas, him ducking and narrowly missing it before it got caught around a column. He ran up the chain, firing an arrow through its head before jumping back down.

Sam slammed a frying pan into the side of an orc's head before three of the hobbits shouted, dodging an attack from the troll. "Frodo!" Aragorn yelled, his eyes surveying the battlegrounds for the young hobbit. You sprinted, seeing him cornered by the troll. Aragorn was slammed into the side of a wall, him watching as Frodo struggled. "ARAGORN!" Frodo called. Well, Aragorn was the saving grace Frodo was expecting. You were the saving grace he got, stabbing the troll with a spear. You noticed the anger in the troll's eyes. "...Fuck." you gasped before you were launched, hitting a wall and being knocked into a stunned state. You could hear the battles raging around you, yet you could not bring yourself to open your eyes.

Aragorn sprinted, trying to make it to you. Frodo defended you, best he could before the troll stabbed a spear through his chest. Frodo froze, letting out a pained gasp before Merry and Pippin tag teamed the troll, jumping on its back and stabbing it. Gimli and Gandalf both attacked, Legolas dealing the final blow. It finally fell, knocking Pippin off as you leaned up. You winced, looking over to see Frodo lying down. No...

You crawled over, the group rushing over as Aragorn sprinted past them, kneeling next to you. You pulled up Frodo, raising a brow as he was still alive. You felt Aragorn put a hand on your shoulder as he watched Frodo take a breath. He coughed and Sam felt instant relief. "He's alive." Sam said, everyone relaxing. "I'm alright. I'm not hurt." He said, looking at you who had blood dripping down your face. "You should be dead! That spear would have skewered a wild boar." Aragorn said. "I think there’s more to this hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf said. Frodo moved his shirt revealing his mithril armor. You sighed with relief. "Mithril! You are full of surprises Master Baggins." Gimli chuckled. You all heard orcs, everyone exchanging looks of anxiety. "To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" Gandalf said.

You all ran, having very little light. You couldn't tell if the thing dripping down your face was blood from the blunt hit of the troll or if it was sweat from all the running. The answer was scaring Aragorn to no end as he saw a cut on the side of your head, blood trickling down your cheek. He wasn't even aware of the wound on your shoulder that was also bleeding. You all were brought to a screeching halt, the orcs surrounding you all. You all had your weapons drawn, fear coursing through you. Was this it? the vision you had where Boromir met his end? Was this to be your fate as well?

A fiery light appeared, sending the orcs in different directions as they all ran. "What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked. "A Balrog-- a demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!" Gandalf yelled. All of you took off again, entering a passageway before stopping at a set of steps. You gripped the back of Pippin's cloak as he narrowly missed falling into a chasm below. Gandalf looked at Aragorn. "Gandalf." He said, confused on what to do. "Lead them on Aragorn. The bridge is near." Gandalf instructed. Aragorn halted. "Do as I say! Swords are no more use here." Gandalf warned. Aragorn nodded, rushing to the group. You all encountered a gap in the stairs. Legolas leapt, landing on the other side. "Gandalf." He beckoned. Gandalf jumped, landing successfully. Aragorn ushered you forward, you jumping to the other side. Boromir took Merry and Pippin, jumping to the other side as Aragorn and Legolas fired arrows at the orcs. Aragorn threw Sam across, Boromir catching him. Aragorn made an attempt to throw Gimli but he stopped him. "Nobody tosses a dwarf." He said before jumping. He nearly fell back but Legolas gripped his beard, yanking him forward. Your heart pounded as the stairs behind Aragorn and Frodo collapsed, making the very small area they had unstable. "Stay there. Hold on. Hang on! Lean forward!" He instructed, Frodo and Aragorn both shifting the balance so they could make the jump.

They both made it, all of you resuming in your run. "Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf yelled. Aragorn sprinted with you and the group across a bridge. You ran to the other side, you turning back to see Gandalf standing with his staff. A flash of a vison sparked before your eyes, you gripping Aragorn's arm. The vision was clearer. The fate of this event was very clear to you. Gandalf was going to die.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf yelled. "GANDALF!" Frodo called. A light came from Gandalf's staff. "I am the servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you! Flame of Udun!" Gandalf yelled. The Balrog geared up, striking its sword down. It shattered, Gandalf standing there. "Go back to the shadow!" He commanded. You put a hand to your mouth, watching in horror the events playing out in front of you. "YOU…SHALL NOT...PASS!!!" He yelled, his voice booming. Gandalf brought his staff down, the Balrog attempting to walk forward but the bridge collapsed, bringing it down. Everyone but you seemed relieved. You knew there was more. You knew there was something about to happen.

The whip of the Balrog wrapped around Gandalf's ankle, bringing him to the edge as he looked at the group. He looked at you, your heart pounding in your ears. "GANDALF!" Frodo screamed, Boromir holding him back from running.

"Fly you fools." Was the last thing any of you heard him say before falling.

[hey-its-nonny]

So, thanks to the lovely @themerriweathermage, i can repost all of my chapters of in between!! Again, a huge, huge, thank you, love. i can’t tell you how happy i am about this.

Chapter one of In Between!

i’m super excited for this!! hope y’all like it!!

note: this first chapter will start out (and maybe end) in Legolas’ POV just for somewhat of his backstory. the rest will be told from your POV!!

~~~

The battle was over.

Burials for the dwarves had come and gone, and while Tauriel was grieving over Kili, Legolas was left with a broken heart over the she-elf in question. He just didn’t understand. Tauriel was supposed to be the one. At least he thought so.

Was there something wrong with him? His father would have told him so. He didn’t understand why it stung so harshly, but he supposed that was the risk you took when you fancied someone.

But, a broken heart didn’t really matter now, did it?

The truth was that Tauriel had all too quickly slipped out of Legolas’ grasp; and there was no getting her back. Like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode in his face, it had only been a matter of time before Tauriel slipped away from him. So, he traveled for months to meet a man by the name of Strider.

At first, Legolas had lost his sense of just about everything. He knew where he was going, but he didn’t want to find his way there. Everything he’d loved had slipped out of his grasp in a matter of weeks, and he had no power to stop it.

That’s what he hated: being unable to change things in his life. He was a prince, for Valar’s sake. Changing things to get what he wanted was quite literally what he was used to. He understood that he was privileged, although his father said he’d deserved every bit of what he got, unsurprisingly. Somehow, though, he felt he didn’t.

Just like he didn’t deserve Tauriel.

But, as his walked on with his thoughts tormenting him every waking second, he bumped into something- or someone, to be precise. While lost in his thoughts, Legolas’ feet had taken him to a small village -somewhere near Rivendell- he guessed, judging by the forests and whatnot.

It was a man. He’d bumped into another man. Upon realizing this, the elf froze, his senses coming back to him quicker than he’d lost them. He murmured an apology to the man, and the hooded figure nodded, quickly turning to go on his way.

Legolas realized he didn’t know where to go next, so he went to ask the man. “Do you know a ranger by the name of Strider?” He called, stopping the man in his stride. “Who’s asking?” He replied, low voice ringing in the almost eerie silence.

Legolas somewhat scoffed. “I am.” He stated, knowing full well what the man meant. He was angry and hurt, so a little sass or sarcasm could be expected from the elf. Who would blame him?

Apparently, you would.

Laying the pile of wood down, you readjusted the strap of your pack as your combat knives found their way into your hands. “Answer the question properly.” You spoke out, causing the elf to flinch. Cute. A fight prior to this meeting had put you in a bit of a sour mood, so any further irritation would only make things worse.

Legolas turned and faced you, eyes slightly narrowed, making it evident he wasn’t in a good mood either. “Legolas of th-“ He started, cutting himself off to correct himself. “Legolas Greenleaf.” He stated, turning to face Aragorn once more. “Now, answer my question.” He returned, raising a brow.

You shared a quick look with Aragorn, a questioning gaze evident on your features. “Strider.” He answered, and your expression phased into a calm one. You never really trusted people easily, and this elf would be no different, no matter how pleasant his face looked. Whenever Legolas heard this, however, he looked a bit embarrassed.

You smirked, leaning against the tree with a quiet hum. Aragorn grabbed both yours and the elf’s attention as he spoke up, removing his hood. “Why are you searching for me?” He asked, hand readily reaching for his blade. The bitter cold made this exchange far more intense than it should have been, but the elf showed no intentions of harming either of you.

The elf cleared his throat, searching for the answer to that question. “I merely wish to follow along whatever path you choose to take.” He said after seconds of silence, bringing down his ego as best he could. “Companionship, if you will.” He clarified, earning a distrustful, yet knowing exchange between you and Aragorn.

You walked over and pulled Aragorn aside, hoping to get out of ear’s reach from the elf. It took a while, but once you both were far enough from him, you whispered, “Are you going to let him follow us?” You asked, nodding in the elf’s direction.

The man huffed. “Perhaps. I cannot fully trust him yet, but I feel that it may be good to have him around.” He admitted, gazing at the leafless trees that surrounded you. You sighed, brows furrowed. “I don’t know if it is a good idea,” You replied, uncertainty and caution churning your insides. “but I trust your judgment.”

“We’ll have to take night watch, though.” You added, earning a chuckle from the man. “Let’s get a move on, then.” You sighed, trudging through the woods with Aragorn trailing behind you. A hopeful Legolas met your gaze, searching for any signs of confirmation. He didn’t get anything, though.

You simply grabbed your pack and firewood, tightened your tunic, and went on your way. Aragorn spoke up one final time, doing the same as you. “We do not stop until nightfall.” He stated, earning a swift nod from the elf.

~~~~

Hours later, you all finally found a resting point in a cave and started a fire, gathered around it in attempts at gaining some warmth. Aragorn had gone to scout the surrounding area, leaving you shivering and alone with Legolas. As you huddled close to the fire, shaking due to the cold, Legolas stood, walking over to the pack he’d brought.

He pulled out a thick cloak, walking over to offer it to you. “Take it. You need it.” He quietly stated, draping the fabric over your shoulders. The warmth was almost instant, and you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. “Thank you.” You smiled, to which the elf nodded.

Suddenly, your curiosity got the better of you. You peered at the elf from across the fire, staring into the sky blue eyes he possessed. “Where are you from?” You asked, trying to pass the time. “Mirkwood, as they call it now.” He answered reluctantly, though he seemed a bit more at ease now. “And you?” He returned, raising a brow as he met you e/c eyes.

You stared at the flickering flames in thought, pondering if you should give the elf an answer. It was only fair. “I don’t remember.” You quietly admitted, a solemn expression on your face. “My parents passed when I was young. I’ve been with Strider ever since. He’s like a brother to me.” You explained, earning an almost sympathetic look from the elf. What were you doing?

You stood before he could offer pitiful condolences and drew both of your knives. “Speaking of Strider, I am going to search for him. Excuse me.” You quickly blurted, gently folding the cloak and setting it down.

You rushed out, internally scolding yourself for such foolish behavior. You searched for Aragorn, wondering what possibly could’ve taken him so long. After a while, you came upon a slight clearing, the silence heavy over the bitter air.

Then, you heard it. Orc voices could be heard nearby, and you assumed Aragorn was with them. You cautiously padded through woods, making no noise as you passed. You counted twenty five orcs surrounding Aragorn, preparing yourself for battle.

Then, quicker than the wind, you dashed towards the orcs from behind and began slashing at them, taking out four within a minute. But, as fate would have it, you got caught in a fight between two particularly determined orcs. “Run!” You ordered, earning a scoff from Aragorn as he faced the majority of what was left of the group.

You took the two down, your worry for Aragorn outweighing your will to survive. Aragorn fought well, taking down the mindless creatures with a certain grace only Aragorn possessed. Just as you thought you were finished, you caught a glimpse of a blade held at Aragorn’s neck.

“Aragorn!” You shouted, cutting down whatever orcs stood in the way as you bolted for you best friend. Amidst the chaos, you were caught again as another group stole your attention. You fought hard, taking the orcs down with urgency. Luckily, however, an arrow was caught in the center of the orcs head before too much harm could be done.

You looked in the direction from where the arrow came and found Legolas standing there. You finished off the rest of the group with both of the boys’ help, panting slightly once it was over. Without hesitation you went to embrace Aragorn, quietly letting out a sigh of relief. “Please don’t do that again.”

The man returned the embrace, and you pulled him along back to the cave, grateful he was still alive.

~~~~

You sat at the campfire once more, both of your companions sound asleep a little bit away from you. You watched the flame climb the air, relishing in the warmth it provided you. Then, you remembered the cloak Legolas had given you, and you picked up the soft fabric.

You wrapped it around your shoulders and sighed, making sure to keep an eye on the entrance to the cave. You made it a point to thank Legolas for saving Aragorn, unsure of what you would’ve done if things had turned for the worse.

At the end of the day, Aragorn was alive and well, and you had another companion to get to know. Legolas saved Aragorn’s life, and that was all that really mattered to you.

Maybe the elf wasn’t so bad after all.

~~~~

ugh this SUCKED, but it’s done! i’ll probably edit it later, but i just wanted to post it.

@elvish-sky is the only person on my tag list at the moment i think?? pm me if you want to be added, otherwise i won’t remember lol 😂 hope you enjoyed it!

~~~~~

[hallothere]

Brave the Darkness

Previously titled “Blunt Force Ghost Trauma” but since no ghosts actually get served onscreen I changed it. Also because like Halros and the Very Bad Time it isn’t uhhh.... funny enough for that kind of title!

(warnings for Candaith Going Thru It but there’s no like blood or anything)

Somehow, the cold was coming from inside his bones. The chill was ice in his marrow. Radanir visibly shook next to him, as did some of the others. He was hard-pressed not to tremble. Halbarad, his companions, they would all have to stand strong together. They had been warned off once by the Oath-breakers in this cursed place. Candaith supposed these were not the sort of spirits to give a second warning. 

The frostbite within only sharpened as he continued further onto the Forsaken Road. With a glance over his shoulder, he wondered if Thurvi- his shadow in this lightless place- had ever felt such a chill in the Mountains of his homeland. The Guardian seldom spoke of the land of his birth, of the Dwarven city of Kechel, nor of Dwimorberg whose fell name lay like a shadow over their quest. Perhaps he hoped not to discourage his companions. Perhaps the dwarves did not venture near enough to these places to know them so well.

Candaith had become accustomed to the mask his friend had acquired in Lhanuch. The Grey Company’s enemies were Thurvi’s enemies as well-- and they knew his face. Though there were likely few Dwarves in Enedwaith, he sought to protect them with his anonymity. It was the same logic behind their ‘uniform’. Though a dwarf traveling with a bunch of Dunedain was going to stand out like a hobbit in Othrikar, Candaith appreciated every precaution. 

After all, his friend had kept the company from danger more than once. Though quiet, he was quick to action and sturdier than the rest of them. The last Candaith had seen of Thurvi before his summons, the dwarf had been preparing to head to Angmar with nothing but a large club and a scavenged shield. But the Grey Company’s odd companion out had returned from parts unknown with a dwarf-make axe of strange metal, and a shield with the unmistakable stylings of Khazad-dûm. 

It was only too bad there was no time to stop for a fire. If the Guardian could coax a spark from the bed of the Anduin, he would not be much surprised. Still, the Grey Company needed more than warmth to kindle their hopes. This was a desperate gamble, but one Candaith believed in. If they could gather this host of the dead on behalf of their Chieftain, if they could muster an army unhindered by death nor pain nor hunger-

Maybe it was not such a vain hope or a far-fetched plan! Surely the Oath-breakers tired of existing like this? Did they not long for peace? Candaith did. His kin yearned for it, as did the Eglain, the people he had spent so much time near. The heir of Isildur could bring it. He believed that. Surely the Dead- if not motivated by honor- could only see the release from their curse as gain! A swift, deathless army to bring peace to the world. An invincible host at Aragorn’s command…

“This seems to me a good sign, Thurvi!” he whispered, turning back to his companion. It was dimmer still here, but they could both carry on. “If the Oath-breakers will fulfill their oath to Isildur, we will command an army the like of which has never been seen in Middle-earth. Surely victory will not be far behind!” His comment was met with only a tight smile. This place weighed heavily on them all. 

But soon they would be free of it. Of this, he was certain. 

Another shade flickered into view before them. The Dead all appeared able to hide themselves from sight if they wished, and it was an effective intimidation tactic. Based on the temperature, this could be none other than Britou before them. Idly, he wondered if Dwarves were hardier to this fell atmosphere than Men. Candaith stopped and his Guardian friend came to stand beside him. 

If it was a show of force the Dead wanted, so be it. They acquitted themselves well, though Candaith found the glacial air sapped his strength and stiffened his limbs. He looked to Thurvi but could see no sign he was in any way affected. Britou was probing for weakness, but he would find none. There was strength in the Dunedain. Candaith would not fail his brothers. 

Back to back they fought on. Ghostly blades rang against their steel, but these Dead did not move with the same fell determination as others had. Doubt began to chip through the frost around Candaith’s heart. Was Britou toying with them? This test was little more than a farce for his amusement. What then? Did he desire proof? More learned foes than he had doubted the line of Kings remained unbroken. What would the Dead on the Forsaken Road know of the way Aragorn’s ancestors had endured?

They cared little for the living, that much was clear. They threw around insults, hurled belittling words without thought. The Dead had nothing but contempt for them. Indeed, with the bones of travelers and the plague of shades above ground, what evidence did they have that any of the Oath-breakers’ intentions were honest?

Hah. He was a fool for giving them the benefit of the doubt. But no longer! If they would not be swayed by words or arms, let them be swayed with power. 

“Hold!” He thrust his blade through yet another shade with a shout and commanded the attention of the leader of the Dead. Candaith was breathing hard. The doubt had wormed its way in deep, but he could not let it end like this. Greed was a powerful enough motivator for any Man, even those among the Dead. 

“I have the authority to command you and all your kind, Britou!” He straightened up, emboldened by a confidence he could not feel but must not let waver. "For I...I am the Heir of Isildur!"

He could feel Thurvi’s eyes upon him, as well as the attention of the Dead. The cold was like a rock in Candaith’s chest. As long as they were in peril, he could not falter, but every breath became heavier. It seemed the very air was hardening to stone and ice within him. 

Britou fell silent. For a long moment he stared, sizing Candaith up. Now was not the time for fear. More than ever, he was grateful for the mask. It was as much a shield as the one his Guardian wielded. Perhaps his and Thurvi’s uses for them were more alike than he had thought. 

"What evidence do you have that this be so?" 

Britou’s voice reverberated off the frozen walls. Now more than ever the cold pained him. Candaith tried not to wince as he drew the breath to answer. Taking a finger of his glove in his teeth, he slid it off without lowering his sword. "Only this: the Ring of Barahir, heirloom of Isildur's line!"

After all, they had been made for one purpose: to deceive the enemy. Why not use it now, as it had been intended, for their advantage? 

It was a long while still before Britou spoke again. “I see.” The cavern was still. “We will fulfill our oath at last, that the Heir may lift the curse. Tell your Men."

Candaith could not breathe a sigh of relief. The cold had taken him, and it was all he could do to nod, to turn around, to look for the relief that must be plain on Thurvi’s face. 

It was not there to greet him. Candaith saw only fear.

"But that is not the Ring of Barahir, and you are not the Heir of Isildur."

He did not have time to think. There was ice on his skin now, on his fingers. Cold pierced him. Thurvi was moving faster than Candaith had ever seen him go. There was a horrible rending of metal, and the ice splintered under his skin. Dust and rock rose up to meet him. 

There was a black and frozen pause. Trapped within a pincushion of ice, Candaith did not notice at first that he was being moved. He could clear little space in his lungs to cry out, and he could not coax his algid limbs to motion. Too many frosted shards had gathered themselves within him. They cut like glass, tore at his mind, and ate at his heart. He knew naught of what was transpiring, only that he had failed his kin. He had led them to this place of ruin, and now he was to join the miserable Dead. 

His whole body was jolted up and sideways. A single pauldron came into view. Thurvi! Candaith’s tears were surely frozen, but he felt the warmth of relief thaw them a little. It mingled with the heat of shame long enough to warm sensation back into him. There was new pain too. His back was taut and tearing as Thurvi hurried him away. With a final cry, his awareness too failed on the cursed road. 

Something was trying to crush him. A pressure bound him, constricted his thoughts. He could not will himself to move or to breathe. So Candaith struggled. The now-familiar cold had abated some, but it had not released its stranglehold on him. He had failed, but for now desperation overrode his shame. The others-- his brothers were nearby! If nothing else they needed a warning, they needed to know that no Dead would ride by their side save to run them down. 

Candatih fought to turn over. He had fallen flat before Britou in that frozen chamber, and now he must get up! He must get up or let his brothers be slaughtered for his reckless gambit--

“Fool! Be still, Candaith!” 

A hand, warm and living, reached him from the darkness. It held his shoulder with a gentle firmness that made him pause. There was no time for this! So far underground, they needed every moment to escape.

The crack of a log fire hoisted him up from the dark then flung him down into awareness. His waking senses hit him with force and the air was driven once more from his lungs. Suddenly Candaith discovered he could feel, only to wish desperately that he could not. What had once been solid ice had thawed, and his whole body burned in the spaces where it had been. He turned to push his face into whatever had been beneath his ear. Candaith was on the ground, and pain trampled him flat. 

The hand was joined by another on his other shoulder. He tried to smother a rising scream as the fire was stoked again by his squirming. 

“Candaith, listen to me.” The voice was familiar, but it was as full of uncertainty as he was. “We are out of there now, but you are lucky to be with us! Lie still if you can. If you are too stubborn to listen, it will be hard to bring you back to Lhanuch alive! We will give you…” Here the voice paused, and with more clarity came a growing certainty that Candaith had never heard Radanir more distressed. “We will give you something for the pain.”

“Radanir!” Halbarad’s voice cut through the fire and the relief was like a balm. More crushing a blow than the catastrophe he knew would have been the loss of their leader. Halbarad was the cord that held them together in Aragorn’s absence. They would follow him with the same loyalty and should he be lost grieve for him with the same sorrow. 

But Halbarad lived. It brought Candaith less comfort than he had hoped. 

“Hold him up. We must do something for the wound before we try moving again.” It was not at all what his leaden limbs wanted to hear. This time Candaith could not stifle a groan as Radanir hefted him like a sack of potatoes. 

“You could not… be more careful?” The words sounded strained to his own ears, but as his head was being rested over one of Radanir’s shoulders like a sickly infant’s, he would not get to see a reaction. 

That did not stop Radanir from having one. “And you could not stop from telling falsehoods to the undying shades of traitors!"

It brought down a deathly quiet. A popping ember rang as loud into the night as a thunderclap. Radanir had gone as stiff as a statue, and only after a long pause could Halbarad get things moving again. 

“It is a grave wound, but it might have been much worse.” Candaith could feel the sleeves of his tunic, but the back had been torn asunder. Now exposed to the night air, he wished for the blanket or cover that had seemed so smothering a moment ago. Halbarad was moving the fabric. Every pull jostled the nettles that had taken up residence in his limbs. He tried to push away, but Radanir held him up under his arms. 

“If we have to set you back down, there will be less firelight to work by.” The words were terse, but there was an undercurrent of concern nonetheless. Radanir was right, Candaith was a fool. It was becoming more and more obvious just how close he’d been to being a dead one. 

To his surprise, Thurvi stepped into his narrow field of vision. The dwarf offered out his hand. Weakly, Candaith took it.

“Distract him if you can, Thurvi.” Halbarad instructed. “We are lucky he is awake but we might have been luckier were he not- at least, not for this.”

Candaith was reluctant to meet the Guardian’s eye. It had been a rather poor performance on the Forsaken Road. He had shamed himself and shamed the entire Company. Only by a miracle was he out under the stars instead of rotting among the Dead. To his surprise, Thurvi did not attempt to make conversation just yet but began sliding up the metal mask that had long covered his face. 

Despite everything- or perhaps because of it- Candaith could not bite back a delirious laugh. “You have a line! Clear… right across your face from cheek to cheek, over the bridge of your nose-”

Halbarad chose that moment to strike. Something cold and stinging coursed down his open wounds. He gritted his teeth and tried to crush Thurvi’s hand and Radanir’s arm. The work had begun in earnest. Now, Halbarad would not stop until everything was dressed to his satisfaction. 

Thruvi pulled his hand down. Attention diverted, Candaith managed to look up. “Your cloak did not make it, I’m afraid.” The Guardian said in a solemn tone. “Alas, it was the first casualty. And my shield gave its life for yours. Cursed be the blades wielded against the craftsmanship of Khazad-dûm!”

Candaith could not laugh. Thurvi’s heart was not in the attempt at wounded pride. It was hardly the shield of his homeland, and besides that it called to attention a more glaring absence. 

Ignoring the agony behind him, he ground out a question. “The others…?” His mind flew to Linnor, his and Saeradan’s friend, to Calithil who he had last seen by Radanir’s side. Old Hodhon and Himeldir had been there as well, they who had been fraught with worry over Dagoras’ capture and thick as thieves again upon his return. 

Thurvi’s face was more exposed now than it had been underground. The mask was pushed into his hood on top of his head. Candaith did not know if his friend was old for a Dwarf, but he looked older than he had the last time his face was on display. 

“Scattered.” he said at last, “We lost all the torches as the Dead gave chase. You and I were tempting enough targets to allow the others space to run. If they were pursued to the road or to the bluffs, I do not know. We ran into Halbarad and then Radanir in the dark.”

Candaith tried to focus on the words instead of the pain. Whatever salve Halbarad had conjured burned as fiercely as his shame. Loath might he be to admit it under other circumstances, Radanir was right. Who was he to command the Oath-breakers? What right did he have to try!

There was little left of his strength. Candaith used it to first return Thurvi’s grip on his hand, and then to better support himself on Radanir’s arm. Neither he nor Halbarad had spoken again, and it was time for Candaith to acknowledge the disaster on all their minds. 

“I should never have-- I would give my life a thousand times... to be even the smallest help to Aragorn… That was all… all I-” Halbarad took his shoulders and started to tip him back. The movement clouded his vision so completely he could hardly be sure he was still awake. Numbness started to overpower him and Candaith did not have the strength to be alarmed by the empty wave. 

The void held him captive for a moment. But, vigilant Pain was quick to revive him as bandages met the raw edges of his wounds. He was slumped in a sitting position as Thurvi held him up and Halbarad finished wrapping the tender flesh. Candaith was given something bitter from a water flask, and then worked up the courage to try and speak again.

“I am… sorry-” he croaked from the ice-carved hollow in his chest. 

“If you are sorry, Candaith, I am doubly so.” Halbarad’s voice was thick with worry, and regret. “For had I not sought to make copies of the Ring of Barahir, had I been more focused on keeping us from danger, this never would have occurred.”

Halbarad finished tying off the bandages, and Candaith was surprised to find Radanir waiting there at his shoulder. He was without a cloak, as were the others, and did not waste time in guiding his dead-limbed companion to where the collected fabric was balled up into a makeshift bedroll. Far though they were from a suitable camp, he was going to see that Candaith had some small comfort. Not Thurvi, not Halbarad, but Radanir who was rightfully furious with him. 

Of all their companions, he was one of the least likely to shy away from saying what he meant. There was no quip too untimely, no sentiment best left unsaid. No doubt it was why he had taken on this task. Halbarad was too noble to scold a man on death’s porch if not it’s doorstep. And something about Thurvi’s tight-lipped expression had told him that the Guardian had seen the events transpire in an entirely different light.

Of one thing Candaith was sure: whatever reproach Radanir had ready for him would be well-deserved. Only, Candaith did not know if he could bear it. He had almost just gotten eight of their number killed in an ill-advised attempt to sway the Dead- the Dead who were known chiefly for their treachery! He feared the long night as he had been frightened of the long road underground. What if the others had not made it out? Their blood would be on his hands, and he would have to meet the rest of the Company alone with his shame.

No doubt his chief critic would be Radanir. Radanir who had been forced to flee with the others, who had stumbled across Thurvi in the dark, who must have been told the tale from the eyes of an observer- and the only one of them who could never have done the same in his place! 

Still he could not help but to look. Candaith turned his head to the side and found Radanir’s stare fixed on him. Guilt swept over him again before it was replaced by great confusion and worry. The firelight illuminated anger, yes, but also vivid fear that took a moment for Radanir to conceal. 

“I suppose I prefer you a living fool rather than a dead one.” The irritation in his tone was as empty as Candaith felt. “Still,” here an edge of something crept back in, “do not ever attempt such a thing again.”

As much as he wanted to assure Radanir that he would not dream of it- that he was shaken to find a lesson learned had nearly cost his and his kinsmen’s lives- Halbarad had designs of his own. Whatever herbs had been in the water were beginning to take effect. The pain of his wound was no distraction anymore. Already sensation was floating away. It felt as if he would dissolve if it began to rain, like dust on stonework. Candaith could no more keep his eyes open than he could leap up and begin the search for the rest of their group or to share the burden his decision placed on them. 

He could no longer see the light of the fire when Radanir’s hand came to rest carefully on his shoulder. Their companions were discussing something too quietly for him to hear. It would not be long now before Halbarad’s bitter potion forced him to rest. 

“That was a fear so cold I thought I would never be warm again.” Radanir’s voice was nearly lost to the cushioning effect of the medicine on his ears. “But I would prefer to never be rid of it than to lose even one of my brothers.”

The candor in Radanir’s words did not absolve him, but it was a balm to a hurt no healer could treat. Comforted beyond measure, Candaith could at last bear to face the night and any troubled dreams it could conjure.

[elliemarchetti]

An Unfriendly Waste

As someone seems to have appreciated the previous chapter, here is the sixth, in which Elva, the half-elf protagonist who left together with the Fellowship in place of Legolas, and her companions begin to sail south.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Words: 2250

The Fellowship went on their long way down the wide hurrying waters, borne ever southwards. Bare wood stalked along either bank, and they couldn’t see any glimpse of the lands behind. The breeze died away and the River flowed without a sound, not even the birds’ voices breaking the silence. The sun grew misty as the day grew old, until it gleamed in a pale sky like a high white pearl, fading finally into the West, followed by an early dusk and a grey, starless night. Far into the dark quiet hours they floated on, guiding their boats under the overhanging shadows of the western woods. Great trees passed by like ghosts, thrusting their twisted thirsty roots through the mist and down into the dreary, cold water. Elva sat listening to the faint lap and gurgle of the River fretting near the shore, until her head nodded and she fell into an uneasy sleep on Haldir’s shoulder, who carried her ashore and wrapped her in his cloak, as Gimli, who had taken on the task of lightning a small fire, later brough back to her.

"You've been lucky, if it was just my job I don't know if I would’ve managed not to get you into the water, as tall as you are," joked the dwarf. To have elven blood, Elva wasn’t particularly tall, but to dwarves and hobbits they all had to appear equally part of the Tall People. The time for jokes was incredibly short, as they started again before the day was broad, not that most of the Fellowship were eager to hurry southwards: they were content that the decision, which they must make at latest when they came to Rauros and the Tindrock Isle, still lay some days ahead, so they let the River bear them on at its own pace, having no desire to hasten towards the perils that lay beyond, whichever course they took in the end. Haldir let them drift with the stream as they wished, husbanding their strength against weariness to come, but Aragorn insisted that at least they should start early each day and journey on far into the evening, for he felt in his heart that time was pressing, and he feared that the Dark Lord hadn’t been idle while they lingered in Lorien. Nonetheless, they saw no sign of any enemy that day, nor the next. The dull grey hours passed without event, but as the third day of their voyage wore on, the lands changed slowly: the trees thinned and then failed altogether, while on the eastern bank they saw long formless slopes stretching up and away towards the sky, brown and withered, as if fire had passed over them, leaving no living blade of green, an unfriendly waste with nothing to relieve the emptiness. They had come to the Brown Lands that lay, vast and desolate, between Southern Mirkwood and the hills of the Emyn Muil. What pestilence or war or evil deed of the Enemy had so blasted all that region, even Haldir couldn’t tell. Upon the west, to their right, the land was also treeless, but flat, and in many places green with wide plains of grass. On this side of the River they passed forests of great reeds, so tall that they shut out all view to the west, as the little boats went rustling by along their fluttering borders. Their dark withered plumes bent and tossed in the light cold airs, hissing softly and sadly. Here and there through openings Elva could catch sudden glimpses of rolling meads, and far beyond them hills in the sunset, and away on the edge of sight a dark line, where marched the southernmost ranks of the Misty Mountains. There was no sign of living moving things, save birds, but they were seldom seen, small fowl whistling and piping in the reeds. Once or twice the travelers heard the rush and whine of swan-wings, and looking up they saw a great, black phalanx streaming along the sky.

“How wide, empty and mournful all this country looks,” said Elva. “When I was younger, I always imagined that as one journeyed south, it got warmer and merrier, until winter was left behind forever.”

“But we haven’t journeyed far south yet,” answered Haldir. “It’s still winter, and we’re far from the sea: here the world is cold until the sudden spring, and we may yet have snow again. Far away down in the Bay of Belfalas it’s warm and merry, or would be but for the Enemy. You are looking now south-west across the north plains of the Riddermark, ere long we shall come to the mouth of the Limlight that runs down from Fangorn to join the Great River. That is the north boundary of Rohan, and of old all that lay between Limlight and the White Mountains belonged to the Rohirrim. It’s a rich and pleasant land, and its grass has no rival, but in these evil days, folk don’t dwell by the River or ride often to its shores. Anduin is wide, yet the orcs can shoot their arrows far across the stream, and of late, it’s said they have dared to cross the water and raid the herds and studs of Rohan.”

Elva looked from bank to bank uneasily. The trees had seemed hostile before, as if they harbored secret eyes and lurking dangers; now she wished that the trees were still there, as she felt that the Fellowship was too naked, afloat in little open boats in the midst of shelterless lands, on a river that was the frontier of war. In the next day or two, as they went on, borne steadily southwards, this feeling of insecurity grew on all the Fellowship, so they took the paddle and hastened forward, the banks sliding by and the River broadening and growing shallower: long stony beaches laid upon the east, and there were gravel-shoals in the water, so that careful steering was needed. Elva shivered, thinking of the lawns and fountains, the clear sun and gentle rains of Lothlorien. There was little speech and no laughter in any of the boats for each occupant was busy with his own thoughts: Haldir’s heart was running under the stars of a summer night, Merry and Pippin were ill at ease, for Boromir sat muttering to himself, sometimes biting his nails, as if some restlessness or doubt consumed him, sometimes seizing a paddle and driving the boat close behind Aragorn’s to peer forward, gazing at Frodo. Sam had long ago made up his mind that, though boats were maybe not as dangerous as he had been brought up to believe, they were far more uncomfortable than even he had imagined. He was cramped and miserable, having nothing to do but stare at the winter-lands crawling by and the grey water on either side of him. Even when the paddles were in use, they didn’t trust him with one. As dusk drew down on the fourth day, he was looking back over Frodo and Aragorn’s bowed heads when something suddenly caught his sight: at first, he stared at it listlessly, then he sat up and rubbed his eyes, but when he looked again, he couldn’t see it anymore. When they camped for the night, certain that no one was paying attention to him, he decided to talk about it with Elva, sure she was the one who would understand the most.

“A log with eyes?” she asked, partly perplexed, partly for confirmation.

“I saw what I took to be a log floating along in the half-light behind Boromir’s boat, but I didn’t give much heed to it,” he confirmed. “Then it seemed as if the log was slowly catching us up, and that was peculiar, as you might say, seeing as we were all floating on the stream together. Just then I saw the shiny eyes, on a hump at the near end of the log. What’s more, it wasn’t a log, for it had paddle-feet, like a swan’s almost, only they seemed bigger, and kept dipping in and out of the water; that’s when I sat right up and rubbed my eyes, meaning to give a shout, if it was still there when I had rubbed the drowse out of my head, for the whatever-it-was was coming along fast now and getting close behind our friends. but whether those two lamps spotted me moving and staring, or whether I came to my senses, I don’t know: when I looked again, it wasn’t there, yet I think I caught a glimpse, with the tail of my eye, as the saying is, of something dark shooting under the shadow of the bank. I couldn’t see no more eyes, so I said to myself I was dreaming again, but I’ve been thinking since, and now I’m not so sure. What do you make of it?”

“I should make nothing of it but a log, the dusk and sleep in your eyes, if this was the first time that those eyes had been seen, but it isn’t, and Haldir beheld a strange creature with eyes climbing to the flet that night we slept in the woods, and Elves reported something like that too going after the orcs,” replied Elva, thoughtful.

“I don’t like my thoughts, but thinking of one thing and another, and Mr. Bilbo’s stories, I fancy I could put a name on the creature,” replied the hobbit, instilling a certain terror in her. She had only a vague idea of what Bilbo Baggins had been through on his journey with the dwarves, but whatever might’ve followed them from Moria was no good news.

"I'm not going to ask of your suspicions, just if we have to fear for our lives, or for the mission,” Elva said, wondering why her companion spoke of the matter specifically with her.

"According to Gandalf's thought, I believe that nothing in this journey can be considered safe, and for this I cannot be sure that what I have seen isn’t a risk, but as wise as the Lady you are in your words, since I haven’t yet discussed with Mr. Frodo about it, and I'm not sure I can divulge the details of his relative's story,” Sam replied, slightly blushing. Whether it was for the compliment just given, or for having openly admitted that he was keeping a secret from her, Elva never knew, but still advised him to talk about it with his friend, and once they came to a conclusion, to feel free to talk openly with her, since she wouldn't have mentioned anything to anyone if they didn't want to.

"For the moment, I'll just have an extra eye on it," she concluded, and no more was said that night, though Sam’s words still lingered in her mind for a long time. Was Galadriel as wise as everyone assumed and it was just her whom had misjudged her actions? Or was she a ruthless leader, devoted solely to her own lands and willing to sacrifice her people as needed? Certainly power could’ve corrupted her in far worse ways, and since the bearer of the ring was a hobbit, a being who could do nothing against an elf of that kind, if her heart had been moved by the thirst to be a worthy rival for the Enemy, she could’ve stolen it from him, by deception or by force, yet she hadn't. In conclusion, perhaps she had judged her too harshly, thanks to the fear she had towards her own King, his immense power and fickle character. If only Gandalf had still been among them, she could’ve asked for more information, as he had been the one who suggested to go to Lothlorien, certain that its Lady would offer them help and advice. With those dark thoughts lingering in her head, she fell asleep and came out of it only when Haldir shook her gently in the early morning.

“It’s a shame to wake you,” he whispered, “but it’s time.”

Sure, it was time to go, but it was time to start thinking too about when their paths would part, perhaps forever. If sleeping under the same roof and strolling through the streets of Caras Galadhon had united them, those silent journeys and those kindnesses exchanged under a black and starless sky, in a place where beauty and goodness had long been forgotten, had tightened the knot even more strongly, and Elva feared that to untie it, it would be necessary to cut something, which she was afraid, at least on her side, it would never grow back.

"You should discuss what torments your heart," Gimli said one day, when they docked to rest. After the night Sam had talked to her about the log with eyes, they had reversed their schedule, sleeping by day and travelling by night.

“It would be of no use,” she replied, while setting a rudimental camp, “for what troubles my heart is as inevitable as death itself.”

"Unheard of! A half-elf who talks about death! You will still see endless sunrises, and you will explore the world more than my long-lived race can, before reaching the sunset of your time, and yet you are here to worry about the same pains of us all," the dwarf teased, glancing sideways at Haldir. "It’s true that those who have more time don’t know how to use it.”

Elva didn’t reply, but blushed violently, and that was enough for Gloin's son.

[middleearthpixie]

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Four

In honor of Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day, I thought I'd move up tomorrow's chapter and let it go out into the wild today. So, if you enjoy it, please let me know - comment, reblog, recommend, what have you! <3

Author's Note: Here is where the story will begin to mirror the events of The Hobbit, with some poetic license taken, of course.

Summary: Thorin and Seren arrive in the Shire, and she meets the Company, as well Bilbo Baggins.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Seren (female OC, formerly of Dale)

Characters: Gandalf the Grey, the Company, Bilbo Baggins

Rating: T

Warnings: The sexual tension between Thorin and Seren ratchets up a bit now.

Word Count: 4,359

Tagging: @tschrist1 and if anyone else wishes to be added, just let me know!

Thorin stared up at the ceiling, only just barely able to make out the stains on the plaster. Water stains, most likely. He couldn’t imagine what else they might be. Didn’t want to imagine what else they might be.

To his right, Seren was sound asleep in her bed. Every now and again, she let out a snore that made him smile. At least one of them could sleep. He was far too busy mentally berating himself for his idiocy earlier.

He hadn’t meant to try to look down her tunic. It simply… happened. He didn’t know why he asked her about it, either. Up until the words crossed his lips, he had given no more than a passing thought about the fact that she was a girl pretending to a certain extent to be a boy. Her reasoning made perfect sense, after all, and he could hardly fault her.

But once she’d told him her secret, his eyes slid of their own accord to her chest. There was no indication whatsoever of any sort of curvature. Which made him wonder. Which made images pop into his mind. Images he neither wanted nor needed.

Trouble was, they were there now and that was why he couldn’t sleep.

Perhaps it would be easier if she looked more like a mountain troll. Or a goblin. But, in fact, she was actually cute. Pretty, even. Her hair was a pale, shimmering gold, like that of the elves of the Woodland Realm. She kept it back in a neat braid, which she then tucked into the neck of her tunic (stop thinking about that damn tunic!)

But her eyes were by far her most striking feature. They were wide and green, but unlike no green he’d ever seen. The outer ring of her iris was the deep green of a forest in summer, but as the color swirled nearer to her pupils, it softened to paler green, and finally yellow. They were almost mesmerizing in their tranquility. By far the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

And that was also why he stared up into the darkness, at the questionable stains. The fire smoldered on the grate. The fire she’d ended up having to start because all he was successful in doing was crumbling the flint like a fool.

That seemed to amuse her as she took it from him, saying, “Perhaps I should do this. I have the feeling that nasty little man at the desk wouldn’t be too keen on giving me another flint, knowing I’d be using it to keep a dwarf warm.”

He’d rolled his eyes. “I’ll go down and get a new flint. He won’t dare try to put me off.”

“You don’t know that.” She’d shaken her head. “He might have steel of his own or worse. It would be better for me to deal with him, if it comes to that.”

His gut twisted with irritation over that. A girl coming to his defense. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time she came to his defense, much as he hated to admit it. He appreciated it, but would rather not think about it, if at all possible.

Which led his mind right back to what happened earlier. He groaned softly into the darkness, rolling over to punch his pillow as he tried to will himself to sleep. It didn’t help. All he could think about now was what she kept hidden beneath that oversized tunic. And that was enough to drive him mad. His imagination ran wild, torturing him as the night wore on and the logs on the fire were slowly consumed by the flames.

He rolled onto his side, facing Seren. A mistake. She lay on her side, facing him, with only the light sheet drawn over her. In the darkness, without the shapeless clothes to hide her, the curve of her hips, the slope of her waist, were as plain as the nose on his face. And when he closed his eyes? It made things worse. Now he saw her in the rain, peering up at him as she had that first night. Rain beaded on her cheeks, caught in her eyelashes, shimmered against lips that he suddenly wanted to taste.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to will alway the sudden rush of desire he felt for this woman. No. She wasn’t for him. She was of Man and should stay of Man. Dwarves and Men would do well to remain far apart from one another. Nothing good could come of his desiring Seren Gilwynn, nothing at all. He would enjoy himself in the moment, no doubt, for he had the feeling she would be far different from any woman he’d known prior to meeting her, but in the end, it could never work. They were far too different and their paths would never be the same.

Now if only he could convince himself of that.

Finally, sleep crept in and his eyes slid shut. But, his dreams were every bit as frustrating as his waking thoughts; steamy and erotic and when he woke at the first light of dawn, the ache that settled into him was all too real.

He opened his eyes slowly, his entire body humming from the force of his dreams. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dreamed so vividly and as his gaze fell upon Seren, whose back was now to him, he bit back a groan. Perhaps letting her accompany him was a terrible idea, after all.

No. He’d overcome this. It would pass, as every other infatuation did. He had far more important matters with which to concern himself, and with that, he threw back the quilts and sat up. His trousers were draped over the foot of his bed and he slid into them before crossing to Seren to catch her shoulder.

“We need to move on,” he said, giving her a gentle shake. “Seren?”

She rolled over with a low sigh and her eyes slowly opened. She gazed up at him and his belly gave a sharp flip as a sleepy smile lifted her lips and she said, “I was dreaming about you.”

“Were you?” He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible as he turned away.

“I was, yes.” The linens rustled and he peered over his shoulder to see she’d sat up and was now rubbing one eye with a fist. “It was interesting, really. We were in an earthen cavern, surrounded by goblins. And one was about to stab you through the throat, when Gandalf appeared.”

He spun around to face her. “What?”

“It was so odd,” she said softly, looking up at him. “But so vivid. I’d swear it was real, but we are right here in Bree, and there are no goblins here, so…”

He sank onto the edge of his bed. “Perhaps you should remain here, or in the Shire. If we are to go to Erebor and face a dragon—“

“That dragon destroyed my home as well,” she told him, her voice low and soft. “I want it to pay as much as you do.”

He looked over at her. Her eyes held a sadness he hadn’t seen before, and his first instinct was to offer her comfort. “So, you and I fight for the honor of killing Smaug?”

To his relief, she offered up a sleepy smile. “I don’t delude myself into thinking I could kill a dragon. But I would like to be there when it happens.”

“How is it you lived in Dale, yet I only ever saw you that one afternoon?”

She lowered the hand that had been rubbing her eye. “I didn’t wish you to see me.”

“You hid from me?”

“More or less, yes. I watched you, but after that day, you thought me a pest. I’d follow you if you came into Dale, with my little sword at my side, just in case anyone thought to give you trouble.”

“I thought you a pest?”

To his discomfort, she nodded. “You caught me once, around Athluna Farydale’s shop. I’m sure you’ve put it from your mind, but I remember it as if it was yesterday. I confess, Mr. Oakenshield, I had a bit of a crush on you back then. You were so handsome and fearless… But then, you laughed at me and said I was but a child and I should go home.”

He tried to bring up the memory, and little by little, it came into focus.

He’d first spied her as she ducked behind a table displaying Miss Farydale’s goods, and had thought nothing of it. But then, the distinct feeling of being watched had settled over him and at least twice more, he’d turned to catch a flash of blonde hair disappearing around a corner, behind a table, lost in a crowd.

It went on that way as he’d made his way from one end of the square to the other, when finally, he ducked behind a corner and as the girl passed, he stepped out to grab her by the arm, growling,“What are you doing?”

The tiny girl with long blonde curls and wide green eyes blinked up at him, gazed up at him as if the sun rose and set on his shoulders. In one hand, she held a sword. At first glance, he thought it was a toy, but then realized it was anything but. Small, perhaps, but honed to a lethal degree from the looks of it.

He released her, folding his arms. “I’m waiting.”

Those green eyes met his and to his surprise, her fair cheeks grew pink as she stammered,“I—that is, you—well… I mean… I’m here for you to watch over.”

They winced in unison and he’d replied, “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m here to watch over you. In case Alfryd tries to make good on his threats.””

“Watch over me? Whatever for? I need no one to do such a thing. Especially not a child. Run along now, and bother me no more.”

“But—“

He didn’t wait for her to finish, but turned and stalked off, shaking his head at the very thought of that child thinking she was protecting him from the people of Dale, from Alfryd. Laughable.

“That was you?” he murmured, reaching for his tunic, draped over the foot of the bed as well.

As he drew it on, she said, “It was. Do you remember? I made a fool of myself.”

“I remember I was far too old for you at the time.”

“Yes, you probably were.” She kicked back the coverlet and rose and he swallowed hard at the sight as, once again, she was in only her tunic.

To make matters worse, her trousers lay draped over the table, before the windows, and as she stepped before them, the sunlight streamed in behind her and the effect stunned him into silence. No matter how he tried not to look, he couldn’t help but see the outline of slender, shapely thighs, softly curved hips, the slope of her waist, and the faint hint of those bandages of which she spoke last evening.

He turned about, the only way he could avert his gaze. “I was and I still am and we need to go.”

“Well, it no longer matters,” came her pert reply and he breathed a sigh of relief as the swish of fabric against skin reached his ears. Her trousers, hopefully. Unless of course, she was trying deliberately to drive him mad. “I’m not that same girl any longer.”

A relief that. He turned back to find her dressed once more, which came as another relief for him. Now, they just need to make for the Shire and once the entire Company was assembled, his thoughts would no longer center on the girl in his room at the moment. In time, she would just be one the others.

Or so he hoped.

“So,” Seren was saying as she tugged on hose that had seen better days, “how long will it take us to reach the Shire?”

“No more than a few hours.”

“Good. And do you know where we’re going?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” he replied as he fastened his scabbard about his hips. “But, we’ll find it.”

“And if we don’t?”

He offered up a long look. “We will.”

“Very well.” She tugged on her left boot, then her right, and straightened up. Her brows pulled low as she peered at him. “Is something wrong? You look a little flushed this morning.”

“I’m fine,” he told her, shrugging into his fur wrap and then his cloak. “We need to move.”

“If you say so.”

He held open the door for her. The sooner he put this room, and its two comfortable beds, far behind them, the happier he’d be for it. Perhaps then his thoughts would stop torturing him.

Seren shielded her eyes from the sun as she waited for Thorin to emerge from the inn. Something bothered him. He avoided meeting her eyes, or even looking directly at her, and that made her smile. He had no trouble doing so until she teased him about catching him trying to peek down her tunic. It wasn’t until she’d teased him about it that this sudden change came about.

Was it possible that he really had tried to look down her tunic? She thought that’s what he’d been doing, but it was entirely possible she was wrong.

Or so she’d thought.

Then, he came thudding down the steps and out into the road and she smiled up at him. “I thought you’d gotten lost.”

“It seems our innkeeper friend thought we damaged the room. I don’t know what he thought we were doing, but he charged us an extra fifty for it.”

“Fifty?” Her belly kinked sharply. She didn’t have much more than a hundred or so left in her purse. Still, she set her sack on the ground to open it. “Well, let me—“

“Worry not about it,” he said, catching the sack to lift it in one smooth motion and thrust it back at her. “I let him think we’d had the time of our lives up there and paid him. It was the quickest way to get out of there.”

She bit back a smile. “I wonder what he thought we were doing?”

He shrugged. “I neither know nor care. Now, come along. We still have a way to travel.”

For the first time since catching up with him at the bridge, when he’d dragged her into the underbrush, she fell into step alongside him. “How far is the Shire from here?”

“About half a day’s walk. We will be there by nightfall.”

“And is there an inn there?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. But no matter, we will find somewhere to sleep.”

She cast a sideline glance up at him. The sunlight danced along the dark strands of his hair and highlighted the silver streaking through it. The small silvery cube braided into his hair caught the light, threw it off in flashes of blue and white light. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

She gestured to her own ear. “That block in your hair. What is it?”

“It’s a rune. Woven in by my nephew, Kili, when he was a toddler.”

“And how old is he now?”

Thorin glanced down at her. “Not much older than you, I’d wager. He would like you.”

“Really? What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “Kili likes pretty girls. Fili as well, but he isn’t quite the flirt as his brother is.”

Hearing him say he thought her pretty did something odd to her. It made her belly flip in a way that was as delicious as it was unnerving. But, she didn’t wish to embarrass him again, and so merely smiled and said, “Tell me more of them.”

“Kili and Fili?” He glanced down at her, then looked ahead once more. “They are the sons of my younger sister, Dis. They are typical boys—reckless and headstrong and eager for a fight. You will meet them at some point in the next day or so.”

“I look forward to it,” she replied.

Perhaps it was but her imagination, but it seemed to her that his shoulders tensed with her words. But then, he said, “And they will most likely thank you,” and smiled down at her.

They walked on in silence a bit longer. As the sun warmed the air, she unfastened her cloak to drape it over her arm, and winced at the hint of sweat trickling down between her breasts. The linen wrapped around her was even warmer, and she wished she at least had the satisfaction in knowing she’d be able to unbind herself soon.

But, the truth was that as long as she traveled with a group of men, she would have to pretend to be a boy. And that mean remaining wrapped tight.

Not exactly the most pleasant of thoughts.

She tugged her braid from her tunic. The ends of it rubbed oddly against her skin, which irritated her as the healing blister on her foot irritated her, as the cut on her arm irritated hers. But, she kept her complaints to herself. Mama always said it did no good to complain and that energy was best spent trying to find a solution instead. Trouble was, the only solution was to confess her true gender and she wasn’t at all certain that would be wise. Thorin, she could trust. The others? She didn’t know them. And anyone else with whom they might cross paths, such as orcs, goblins, or trolls? She definitely did not want any of them to know the truth about her.

“Thorin?”

He peered down. “What?”

“Do you think I should come clean about who I am to the others? To Gandalf?”

He stopped and faced her. “Why?”

She also stopped and shrugged. “It’s warm. And that makes me a little… uncomfortable.”

She half-expected his gaze to lower, as it did the night before, but to her surprise, he held her gaze as he said, “It’s up to you. No one will touch you, if that is your fear. But, I cannot say the same for anyone we might meet along the way.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said softly, looking off into the distance, where the fields rolled an even deeper emerald green than the woods from which they’d come. She saw curious buildings in the distance, ones that looked as if they’d been built into the countryside. It all looked so lush, so peaceful, it was unlike anything she’d ever seen. She’d never been this far west before.

“How uncomfortable are you?”

“Fairly.” She resisted the urge to tug at the bandage where it rubbed along the left side of her ribcage. “My skin gets sore.”

“How quickly can you rewrap, if necessary?”

She smiled up at him. “I’m quick. Maybe a minute or two. As I said, I haven’t much to wrap.”

He looked around, only there was nothing but rolling lush fields, beautiful lush trees, and those odd buildings in the distance. Behind them, Bree was but a smudge on the horizon. “Unwrap yourself then. At least for a night or two.”

“Here?”

He nodded. “No one is around and I promise,” a hint of mischief glinted in his blue eyes, “I will not try to peek.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Do you really promise?”

Another nod. “I really promise.”

And with that, he turned his back to her. She looked around, then dropped her sack, shrugged out of her scabbard and set the knives down, then tugged her tunic free to reach beneath it. The bandage was knotted between her breasts, and it took her only a minute to work it free and then, with a low sigh, she unwound the length of linen. At first, the sore patch just below her left breast stung, but after a minute or two, the sting faded. The relief was so great, she couldn’t hold back her lusty sigh.

Thorin turned back to her then. “Are you all right?”

She held up the roll of bandages, tossing it into the air and catching it in the same hand. “Freedom feels wonderful.”

He grinned and she didn’t miss the hint of blush that crept across his cheekbones. She couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “You are blushing, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“The deuce I am,” he retorted, turning away.

But she wasn’t letting him off that easily. She darted about to stand before him again. “You are, you know.”

Then, she tossed the bandages at him. “Catch!”

He did just that. “What are you about?”

“Did you ever have a splinter that hurt. That hurt no matter what and when you finally got it out, it just felt so good, that your mood improved tenfold?”

“I have.” He tossed the roll back to her. “If it hurts so much, why do it?”

“Because I have to. You don’t understand. You’re a man. A dwarf warrior. No one will trifle with you. I, however,” she pressed a hand against her chest, “have no such luxury. I have to pretend to be what you already are and hope no one learns the truth.”

“I know the truth.”

She dropped the roll into her sack and gazed up at him. “But I know you won’t tell anyone. I trust you.”

“No one will harm you, Seren. Not as long as I walk this earth with you.” He stepped closer. “I give you my word. If you wish to remain unbound, know you will be safe with us. With all of us.”

He sounded so serious, his eyes holding not a hint of mischief and his blush had vanished. She knew her trust had yet to be misplaced or unfounded. She nodded. “Will you tell anyone?”

“Not if you don’t wish me to, no.”

“Can I let you know once I’ve met everyone?”

“Of course.”

She nodded. “Good.”

“We should keep moving. We still have a bit of a way to go.”

She nodded and crouched to slip the sack’s strap over her shoulder again, then stood and they continued along the road to the Shire. The sun sank low, streaking blue and coral across the sky. Red skies. A promise of good weather to come. Thank the maker the rain had finally come to an end.

But the landscape was deceiving, as it seemed they wandered from one end of the Shire to the other. She began to wonder if Thorin had any clue as to where they were actually supposed to be when he stopped for the third time, muttered something under his breath and said, "There it is!"

It was a house built into the hillside, with brilliant green trim and a round door that looked like the bottom of a barrel. On the brilliant green door, someone had carved a sigil and Thorin sighed as he grumbled, “Easy to find, my foot.”

Seren peered through one of the windows. Warm light filled the interior, and she heard the cheerful stamping of feet and the muffled voices rising as one in song. A party? It seemed odd that this was where Gandalf had sent them, and she was about to say as much to Thorin when he rapped on the door with a fist.

She held her breath as it swung open and Thorin leaned in to say, “Gandalf! I thought you said this place was easy to find? We lost our way. Twice.” He ducked as he stepped through doorway. “We wouldn’t have found it at all, had it not been for the mark on the door. You remember Seren, don’t you?”

He turned, saw she still hung back, and reached to catch her by the wrist. As his fingers brushed hers, a jolt rippled along her arm, strong enough that her head snapped up and she looked at hi. But he didn’t seem to notice as he tugged, pulling her through the doorway into a small house. For the first time in her life, she felt tall—almost giantlike—in that house. Everything was small. The furniture was tiny, the ceilings were low, she almost had to bow her head as she followed Thorin into a cozy, warmly lit dining room and found herself staring at twelve very curious dwarves and one very stressed halfling.

“Who’ve you there?” A dwarf with huge white hair and an even bigger white beard, gestured to her.

“Everyone, this is Seren Gilwynn, of Dale. He will be accompanying us and—” he held up a hand as a chorus of protests rose—“Enough. I’ve seen him with steel and his fists. He will be an asset.”

Then, he turned to her. “Seren, this is the Company.” He pointed to the white haired dwarf and moved along the crowed, “Balin. Dwalin. Oín. Gloín. Bofur. Bifur. Bombur. Nori. Dori. Ori.”

Then he moved to two young dwarves, both strikingly handsome, one blond, the other dark. “Fili. Kili.”

His nephews. She smiled. There was no way she would ever remember all their names, but at the same time, she nodded and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

They all greeted her with friendly, if confused smiles and minutes later, she and Thorin sat at the table, plates of something delicious before them, and she just listened as Gandalf outlined their plan for retaking Erebor, with the halfling being the burglar who was going to take something called the Arkenstone. The halfling who looked terrified at the very prospect of doing so.

With a sigh, she settled back in her chair and just listened. And as she did so, she couldn’t help but gaze over at Thorin. Had he felt that jolt when they touched or was she just projecting what she wished he would feel? Because truth be told, she still had a crush on him. Only now, she was no longer a child and that could mean serious trouble for both of them.

[lavalampelfchild]

Lava’s Art Masterpost

Hey, all!  Welcome to my art masterpost!  I have no idea if this is a thing that is done typically for art, but oh well, I like organizing things, so here we are!  What you’ll find here is mostly Dragon Age, with a few non-DA pieces in there, and there’s a range of styles I like to use, depending on my mood.  But a lot of what you’ll see will most likely combine lineart with some other form of coloring/shading.

Feel free to browse at your leisure, and I hope anyone who stumbles upon this enjoys what they find! :D And thank you to anyone who sees this and likes, or reblogs, or even just stops by to peruse a bit!  

All that said, away we go!

Digital Portraits:

1. Portrait of Nameless Woman, 2020 - This one is just an experiment with a watercolor brush that I did.  It’s not anatomically perfect, but I enjoyed playing around with shading.

2. Sketch of Aja Amell, 2020 - This one is basically sketch practice with my Amell~  Not really the most expressive pictures, but it’s a start toward drawing her more expressively.  Full disclosure: Aja is one of those OCs of mine that I have had trouble with deciding on a definitive appearance for several pictures, and I really want to work on upping my level of consistency when drawing her.

3. Long-Haired Fenris, 2020 - Exactly what it sounds like; this was for practice drawing Fenris’s features (I love how distinct they are), but with long hair because I am weak for it.  This one was a fun piece to shade, and mixing the stylized lineart that I normally use with a greyscale shading spectrum was really enjoyable.

4. Portrait of Ilorin Lavellan, 2016 - This is an oldie.  Basically practicing expressions, and it is technically a WIP, but I’m still very happy with how the shading turned out, especially because this is actually (aside from the unfinished hair) one of the more minimal pieces I’ve done in terms of lineart  It’s still there, and it still shapes the flow of the picture in some ways, but it also ends up flowing with the shading instead of standing out next to it, which I like.  (Both styles are good, though, and I love seeing other artists try both too.)

5. Old Portrait of Aja Amell, 2016 - Much older picture I did of Aja; she... honestly looks very little like the newer one, I think, and that consistency is something I’m still working on, but this one was the first picture of Aja with that particular hairstyle I drew.  What I like about this picture is how young she looks; it fits with her image as a fresh and sheltered Circle mage who’s only about 20 years old at the time of DAO.

6. Old Portrait of Trilyn, 2016 - They very first piece of art I posted to tumblr~ It’s not exactly how I envision Trilyn anymore, but it was still very fun to draw, and helped me get a feel for drawing him in the future. 

Dynamic Movement Pictures/”Moment’s in Time”:

1. Tabris in Arl’s Estate, 2020 - TW: blood.  I am super proud of this one.  My ultimate goal is to draw all of my Warden DAO OCs, and I could not believe I’ve never drawn my Tabris, and so here she is.  This was, in large part, practicing expressions because I absolutely love art that depicts characters in motion, or capturing some kind of expression.

2. Velyn in the Rain, 2017 - This one was actually based on some art that I saw in a Teen Wolf fic!  It was an experiment with a more expressive style (and one of the first pieces I did without lineart left in the finished version) and it was a huge step out of my comfort zone.  But overall, I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

3. Jem Nocking an Arrow, 2016 - And here is the lineart version.  This was entirely an excuse to draw my DAI baby, Jem, and to do a cool archer pose because archers are my fav, and I love characters in motion.

4. Solas Teaching Trilyn Fade Magic, 2016 - This one was a painterly picture that was also (like the Velyn picture) something which I tried to keep lineart out of.  Overall, I am proud of a lot of parts of the pic, but I think I would definitely go back over it and change a few things now if I had the patience.

5. Trilyn Closeup WIP, 2016 - TW: injury, blood, mention of abuse in the author’s note.  A lot of early pictures I have are of my OC, Trilyn, and this is one of my absolute favorites.  His entire upper body is technically in the picture, but I hadn’t finished rendering it yet, so this was what I posted.  And it was an experiment with a cross-hatching style with the pencil tool for some texture, with air brush shading and a blurring tool.  It’s a style I had fun playing around with!

6. Trilyn Blood Ritual, 2016 - TW: blood, injury (the slight cut used to supply the ritual with blood).  This one was definitely a sort of “captured moment” from a backstory I gave Trilyn, and I think what I was really going for was an atmospheric piece that could fit with any potential fic I wanted to write for Trilyn.  And then it ended up being practice for extreme lighting/shading techniques, and drawing the blood and the gross mass of demon ichor (or whatever the heck that is) turned out to be highlights of making the piece for me.

Art + Text:

1. Freedom and Control, 2020 - TW: scars, but very difficult to see.  This one was ambitious for me!  It started originally just as Solas and my Tal-Vashoth OC, Saara, facing each other, because I love the dynamic I’ve built for them in my head, but then it turned into an attempt at a tarot-esque background, and just sorta grew from there... Overall, I’m happy with how it turned out, especially with how Solas and Saara themselves turned out.  The version you can actually see a larger view is here.  

2. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 1, 2020 - I love writing my own codex entries, first off, and I love combining art with text to create a (hopefully) seamless work.  This work was an attempt to flesh out these OCs of mine with both art (because unique facial structures are hard for me to get down, but so important regardless) and text (because writing~).  I think it turned out well overall, but there are elements of the portraits that I might at some point touch up a bit.

3. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 2, 2020 - Part 2, with what I refer to as a “DAI Outfit Change” because I have always loved seeing fans show their own OCs as they look in DAO, DA2, and then finally DAI.  So I absolutely wanted to jump on that bandwagon myself.  The skin tones are a little off (and I’m sorry about that!) because I was playing with the watercolor brush at that point, and it dilutes the colors I use.  Still working to figure that out, but I was very happy with the overall lineart and structures of the faces.

4. Alistair/Aja Amell Picture with a Blurb, 2017 - Ooooold, old, old, old, OLD!  I still love the art, and I’m soooo happy with how the interaction between Alistair and Aja turned out (drawing kisses is extremely difficult for me; I always end up creating a distorted weird lip-creature, instead of realistically puckered lips...).  I’m not as happy with the blurb that went with it?  At that point, I was still very much figuring out my own DAO worldstate, and the characterization for everyone, so, eh.  Take it with a grain of salt!

Unfinished Costume Designs:

1. Ancient Elvhen Armor with Dwarven Influence, 2018 - People who do costume design work are amazing and mystical beings, and I wish I could do what they do.  This was an attempt at merging the Keeper robes from DAI with a more dwarven armor aesthetic, solely because I created an ancient elvhen character, Ceda, who was taken in by the Cad’halash dwarves mentioned in the Witch Hunt dlc, and I wanted this character to have a mix of the elven style of armor and the dwarven style.  I’m overall decently happy with it, but there’s still that persistent level of self-criticism present.

2. Herald of Andraste Outfit WIP, 2016 - This was a very old picture, not one I showed around a lot, but the idea for this was entirely born of my intense interest in how fashion and outfit designs could be used to create a symbolic image for the Herald of Andraste.  In general, I love the combination of ceremonial armor with long and flowing cloth, so that was what I went for here.  I’m still actually very proud of how this came out, and headcanon something similar for my Herald in my canon DAI worldstate.

Pencil Sketches:

1. Quick Saara Sketch, 2019 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  Exactly what it says; very quick sketch of Saara I did in a small notebook I carry around with me.  This was basically a test for myself to see if I could manage to draw Saara with the features and facial structure I envisioned for her without needing to use a lot of references.

2. Mass Effect Character Sketch; Jesse, 2018 - Similar reason for drawing this one as the above Saara sketch!  With these characters, I love sometimes the way they can turn out with the specific character creator used for them, and when I draw them, I enjoy trying to create a definitive look for them using what I get from the CC, and my own knowledge of Hooman Faces.

3. Saara Sketch, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A more detailed sketch of Saara than the one above, and one I definitely put more time into overall.  It’s currently the profile picture I’m using for ao3, and is the definitive go-to reference picture I use whenever imagining Saara in a fic, or for other Saara pics I make.  I am extremely proud of this picture, and feel like I should work in graphite more often.  It’s such fun, and the texture is so nice to look at.

4. Sketch of Nameless Alamarri Woman, 2017 - This was a sketch I did of what I envisioned some Alamarri tribes to look like; I used artistic depictions of Gaul tribes and hairstyles for inspiration, and have used this as a go-to reference for my version of Alamarri tribes.  Nothing super notable about this one, but I really liked the way the shape of her face turned out.

Events and Gifts:

1. Another Scar, 2020 - TW: blood, injuries, gore.  The most recent piece of art on the list, and a gift for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold; featuring sisterly love between Rica and fem!Brosca, which was her requested prompt.  This was a tough piece for me because of the difficulty with the lighting I dealt with.  For some reason, that one particular element of it gave me so much trouble.  Overall, I’m very happy with how it turned out, though, especially the skin tones of the sisters; Brosca I always sort of like as having this greyish, more gaunt look to her, while Rica I like seeing with a darker, richer, and warmer tone to her.  

2. A Very Cousland Christmas!, 2019 - This was for a holiday exchange for a server, and I drew a friend’s Cousland (Elissa, the girl on the left) with my Cousland (Gazza, the girl on the right).  I love kid-fic, and I love kid-art, and so I decided... baby Cousland art!  Drawing kid proportions was the toughest part, I recall, and I thiiiink it turned out well, and I’m still quite proud of it overall.  Elissa’s design came entirely from my friend, but I added the holly~

3. Exchange Gift with Dis Brosca and Mabari, 2018 - This was an exchange gift for @fanfoolishness, using her lovely Dis Brosca, and was my first real attempt at backgrounds... I struggled with the coherence of the foreground and background a bit, but I’m still very proud of how it turned out, especially with the colors I had to work with.  What I also really enjoyed working with was the lighting and the expression on Dis’s face.  Backlit subjects are always fun to play around with!

4. Inktober Picture, “Deep”, 2017 - TW: scars, injury, mentions of abuse in the author’s note/attached dialogue snippets.  This was for an Inktober prompt (the only one I’ve ever done, sadly... because I am bad with deadlines...), and again features Trilyn.  Trilyn’s backstory has him a former slave in Tevinter, and a lot of the early works I do for him are sort of deep-dives into his life there.  It’s all meant to be an exploration of the things he endures, and then those moments when he overcomes it all and takes back his own autonomy and self.  This art is definitely provocative, and I can understand if not everyone likes it, but to me, I just wanted to show just what he faces (without glorifying it) before showing the moment of his own triumph.

5. Christmas Holiday Picture with my Brosca and a Friend’s Amell, 2017 - This was a piece of art drawn first by a friend of mine, @nanahuatli~  She drew the Amell, the background, the mistletoe, etc.  All I did was add my Brosca to the mix to finish the image.  It was a lot of fun to do, 1) because it was fun trying to match her style so that the picture looked cohesive, 2) because I love doing collabs with friends, and 3) because it was just such a fun thing to imagine my surly short Brosca, looking at this weird plant/fungus/thing dangling over some puckering human!  It was an absolute joy to do this collab with her!  

6. OC Kiss Week Pic of Jem and Saara, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A spur-of-the-moment thing meant to demonstrate just what kind of dynamic my OC, Jem, has with my other OC, Saara (both of whom are members of Leliana’s network in DAI).  This was a very quick picture (deadlines...) and was mostly just to have fun drawing these two characters interacting, and to see if I could make them look like themselves.  I think I did a decent job with it overall, especially with Jem’s kissy-face!  (Again... drawing kisses are the bane of my existence, although hands and feet take a close second.)

[erosofthepen]

A Dwarf and his Child

So this is the second chapter of my OC fic, and I think it’s pretty good. Dwalin and Clara travel to the Blue Mountains.

Chapter One

Dwalin didn’t speak very much. But once Clara warmed up to him, he had no choice but to listen. She spoke very openly and it rarely ceased. But it wasn’t as annoying as it was endearing. She would ask very inquisitive questions for such a young girl, and Dwalin could tell she was very bright. In two weeks he learned much about her. And she learned much about where she was going to live.

“Are there any other children I can play with?”

“Aye. Actually, I’ve made arrangements with my friends sister, and you’ll be with her and her two boys while I am away.”

“Boys?’’ Clara said with a face. Dwalin chuckled.

“That bother ye?’’

“Boys are yucky.”

“Indeed they are. But these two are plenty of fun to be around and no doubt you’ll get into all sorts of trouble with them.”

‘’How old are they?’’

“One’s about your age. 32, no? His name is Kili. The other is just a few years older, he’s 38 and named Fili. You’ll be thick as thieves.”

“Thieves are bad!”

“Just a saying lass.”

“Oh. Wait. Kili and Fili? They sound just the same!”

“You’ll tell them apart, no worries.”

“How?’’

“Kili has brown hair, Fili’s a blond.”

Claira narrowed her eyes and was quiet for a bit.

“I’ve got it! Fili the fair! Because he has blonde hair. Now I won’t forget. Though, i’ll have to think of something for Kili. There’s no words for brown hair that start with K.”

Dwalin smiled and nodded before leaning back and taking a draw from his pipe.

The Blue Mountains looked very intimidating to a little one. Clara and Dwalin rode their way through different villages and rocky paths. Finally, just after noon one day, the two of them arrived at a village populated with mostly dwarrow. They stopped on the outskirts of town at a little house made of oak.

“Is your hole underneath?” Clara asked.

“Hole?”

“Yeah, your hole. Where you live.”

“Ah. Lass, we live in houses. Not holes. Holes are for hobbits and rabbits.’’

“Oh.”

“You’ll get used to it lass, don’t ye worry.”

“Alright.”

“Afternoon Brother! How was the journey?” A voice called. Clara looked over at the house and standing in the doorway was a grey-haired dwarf with a long beard and red robes.

“Afternoon! We fared just fine.” Dwalin called in return, getting off the pony before helping Clara off.

“Is this the wee lass then?” The grey dwarf asked, making his way over.

“Aye. Clara’s her name. Clara, this is yer Uncle Balin, or Irak’adad Balin, if you will.”

“Earackadad?” She questioned, jumbling the word.

“Irak’adad. It means uncle in the language of dwarves. You’ll learn.”

Clara narrowed her eyes and looked Balin up and down.

“I’m just going to call you Uncle Balin.”

The older dwarf chuckled.

“That’s quite all right. Tell me, did you have a good journey Clara?”

“Indeed I did. I didn’t think the mountains would be so big, but they were absolutely huge. In Hobbiton, there’s no mountains at all, did you know that? But there’s plenty of hills. I lived in the biggest hill, Bagend. Well, sometimes I did. Mostly I lived in Tuck-burough, but my family there didn’t like me very much. They kept calling me a bastard, whatever that means. I don’t think it means something very good. We also live in Holes, but I suppose dwarves don’t. Are houses very cozy?”

Balin looked a bit taken back by her speech, but smiled nonetheless.

“Aye, I think ours is cozy enough. I’ve made up a room for you, and made sure to find the warmest blankets in Ered Luin.”

“I get my own room?” She asked with wide eyes.

“Aye, would ye like me to show ye?”

“Yes indeed!” She said excitedly.

Balin looked up at his brother.

“We’ll meet inside?”

“Aye, shouldn’t take long to unpack.”

Balin took Clara’s hand and led her up the steps. The inside of the house was large, and there were three rooms on the bottom floor. One was the bathroom, another was the study, and the third was Balin’s room. The space that wasn’t closed off was the hearth, table, pantry, and kitchen. There was a stairway that led up to the upstairs.

“That’s where ye and Dwalin be sleeping. He has a room and I’ve added yours.”

Balin eagerly led her up the stairs and opened the door to her room. There was a small bed in the corner and a wardrobe, as well as a vanity with a mirror, with a handsomely woven rug on the wood floor. But Clara wasted no time in letting Balin know her favorite part.

“That’s a ginormous window!” She said, letting go of his hand and crawling up on the bed to press her nose against the glass. It was chilly in the autumn weather but she could see the mountains and forrest’s.

“Aye, I installed it just last week. You like it lass?”

She nodded vigorously.

“I’ve never seen one so big! Not even in the Brandybuck’s lands!”

“I’m glad ye like it.”

They heard thumping coming up the stairs and Dwalin came in with her pack and lambie.

“Right. Let’s get you unpacked and then some luncheon.”

Balin had fished for lunch and they had some nice, plump, rainbow trout. When Balin was dishing the meal out, Dwalin interjected.

“She’s going to need a bit more than that, brother.”

“It’s already a plenty large portion!”

“She’s half-hobbit. Their appetites are something to be feared. And she is a growing girl.”

During luncheon, they spoke of taking Clara to the markets the next day to get fitted for warmer clothes.

“This isn’t the Shire, after all. Those dainty wee dresses won’t do much to keep out the frost.”

“Aye. And we’ll have to get her a pair of boots. Did she go bare-foot this whole way?”

“That’s the way of hobbits. Though, she has more cuts and bruises than I like to see. Seems like she didn’t inherit the hobbit feet.”

“Seems so. Oh, did ye tell her we’re dining with Thorin, Dis, and the lads tonight?”

“No, but might as well tell her now.”

“Can I meet Kili and Fili?” Clara asked, interrupting them.

“Of course lass. You know of them already?”

“Dwalin told me. Are they really princes?”

Balin and Dwalin exchanged a look.

“Aye, they are. In title at least.”

Clara shrugged and bit into a roll before letting her mind wander while the brothers talked.

After luncheon, Balin and Dwalin agreed to draw with Clara.

“Bilbo and I always drew after lunch, while Aunt Bella was cleaning up. She got me some fine charcoal from a craftsman and a sketchbook. They should be up in my room, Let me go get them!”

The brothers were certainly impressed by Clara’s skill. It wasn’t as if she could draw portraits, but it was far better than your average 32 year old.

“Ye must get it from your Adad,” Balin commented. Indeed, despite Dwalin’s fierce manner, he always was the most careful with crafting, and patterns and art in silvers and golds were his specialty.

They spent much of the afternoon drawing (with a snack or two in between), before they got ready to sup. Balin helped Clara choose an outfit and Clara sat patiently as Dwalin braided her hair half up, down the back. At 5 o’clock, they left the house and walked to the other side of the village, coming to stop at probably the grandest of houses. Balin knocked thrice and soon the door was flung open and they were greeted by a Dwarrow with beautiful brown hair. She hugged both the brothers and kissed their cheeks before smiling broadly at Clara.

“And what’s your name Lass?’’

“My name is Clara Took.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Clara. My name is Dís. I hear you are the same age as my son Kili, is that so?”

“Dwalin said he’s thirty three, and I’m thirty three, so it is true!”

A sudden shriek and shouting came from somewhere in the house. Dis closed her eyes and sighed.

“There be the boys now. They’re playing fox and rabbit, but I’m sure they have room for one more.”

“I love fox and rabbit! I always got chosen to be the fox whenever I played with my friends in Hobbiton.”

“That’s very well, my dear. Come in, come in.”

Clara, Balin and Dwalin stepped over the threshold and were nearly run into by two blurs of blue and brown.

“Boys!” Dis scolded. The two of them stopped and turned to look at their mum and the guests.

“Is that the girl?!” Kili asked excitedly. Dis was about to reply when Clara answered for her.

“I’m Clara! You must be Kili, since you have dark hair. Dwalin said you have dark hair and Fili has blonde hair!”

“Hi Clara!” Fili and Kili said as one.

“We’ve never had a friend our age! I mean, a friend whose a girl our age! A girl who is our age! You’re pretty special! What’s your favorite game? I hope you like hide-and-seek! That’s my favorite. Fili likes fox and rabbit, but he always wins because he’s a whole lot stronger and faster. But he won’t be for long. I’ll bet I’m taller than him one day!”

“You wish! I’ll always be taller than you, because I’m older than you!” Fili said.

“Boys,” a new voice said. All three of the children turned to look at a dwarf with black curly hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hi.” Clara said shyly. The dwarfs glare turned into a smile as he met Clara’s eyes.

“Hello there lass. What’s your name?”

“My name is Clara. And you have got to be King Thorin! Adad said you’re the bravest King ever born!”

Thorin smile faltered for but a moment and his eyes flickered to Dwalin’s before coming back to Clara.

“He exaggerates. You may just call me Thorin.”

“Oh, alright!”

“Why is your voice like that?” Kili asked.

“Like what?”

“The way you talk, it’s so different!”

“That’s because she’s from a hundred miles away Kee!” Fili said with a sure nod, “All people from far away sound different.”

“Oh okay.”

“You sound different to me too. No hobbits talk like you!” Clara said.

“Hobbits are like rabbits, right?” Kili asked.

“Not at all!”

“Don’t you live in strange burrows?”

“No, we live in hobbit-holes!”

“In the ground?’ Fili asked.

“Yes, In the ground.”

“Then you are a rabbit!”

“No I’m not!”

“Oi!” Dwalin called. “That’s enough I think. Best to stop arguing.”

“Aye,” Thorin agreed. “How about you two show Clara your toy chest?”

“Great idea!”

The older dwarves all watched in amusement as Kili and Fili both grabbed Clara’s hands and dragged her away down the halls.

Chapter Three

[littlebitoffanfic]

Be Safe

Fandom: The Hobbit Characters: Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Bilbo Relationship: Bifur/reader Request: Hiya! I love your writings. By any chance could you write some Bifur (the hobbit) x reader? Honestly I think he doesn’t get enough love. My idea is maybe Bifur has a crush on the reader, who’s in the company, possibly because she listens attentively to him, even though she doesn’t understand kuzdul. (Is that how you spell it?) all the dwarves in the company notice especially Bofur. And can bofur be like a bff of the reader? Thank AN: with this author, everyone lives.

 The company had stopped for the night, settling in a large cave on the front of a mountain. It had been a long day, with a rain that soaked you all right through. but the evening was filled with a warm fire and pleasant conversation. Most of your time was spent with Bifur, Bofur and Bombur. Ever since they rolled into the front door and Bilbo’s, you had been close with them. They didn’t intimidate you like the others did. Well, Bifur had at the start, but Bofur had quickly shown you there was nothing to fear even if the dwarf did have an axe lodged in his head. Bofur had taken you under his wing. Your brother, Bilbo, was useless when it came to anything outdoors, so Bofur had acted like a mentor for you both. Which worked out well considering Bilbos fondness for Bofur and his friendship with Bombur – shared over a love for food. Bifur scared Bilbo slightly, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a little safer knowing that Bifur would protect you if needed. He proved it countless times already on the journey. Bombur and Bilbo was cooking dinner for the company, but they spoke of other meals beside the meat in the pot. Bofur was sitting with Nori, smoking a pipe that had not long dried out. Which left you with Bifur. you sat in a comfortable silence as you mended a shirt of his that had been torn. “Hows this?” You ask, holding up your handiwork for him to inspect. He mumbled words in Khuzdul, nodding and smiling as he took the item from your hand, apparently happy with it. Bofur appeared, dumping himself inelegantly at your feet. “When are you going to fix my gloves. I have more holes than fingers.” He held up his hands with the gloves on, wiggling his fingers at you. “You don’t ask nicely.” You shoot back with a raise eyebrow. “Neither does Bifur!” Bofur acted shocked and hurt by your comment. “And how would you understand him even if he had?” “Well, he seems like he asked nicely.” You reason, smiling a Bifur who shot one back, mumbling something under his breathe. “Hey! We’re family.” Bofur points a finger at him, his face pulled into one of mock shock. Apparently, whatever Bifur said, it was an insult. You giggled, pulling the gloves off Bofurs hands before setting to work. Bofur chatted to Bifur, the conversation seeming to flow despite it being in two languages. You watched them speak, wishing that you could fully join in. You wished you could understand what he was saying. He was very animated when he spoke, and you loved it. His eyes danced as he recanted tales in his native tongue, but you just couldn’t understand. You tried a few times to speak Khuzdul, and butchered it every time, much to the amusement of most of the company. In fairness, they tried to help, and you had started to pick up a little here and there. But Bifur spoke as quick as lightning, and your brain just couldn’t keep up with translating him. In truth, you could spent the whole night listening to him speak, even though you didn’t have the foggiest clue what he was saying. When Bilbo asked why you would sit by Bifur every night, you lied and said ti was because you were fascinated with the language. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. You were fascinated with the dwarf who spoke it.

---------------time skip --------------

Sitting beside Bifur, you felt the dread building in your stomach. This time tomorrow, you might still be fighting. This time tomorrow, you might be dead. There was no joyous meal tonight. There hadn’t been since you got to the mountain. You were all set to work, trying to find this stone. And Thorin never let any of you spend more than a passing moment with any of them. Bofur and Bombur tried their bests. Bombur snuck you extra food, in an attempt to show he was still there for you. And Bofur would smile at you no matter what. Bifur was never far away from you. He was always just around a corner or in the next room from you. You didn’t know that when Bilbo had escaped, he had asked Bifur to keep you safe no matter what. But how safe could Bifur keep you on the battle field? Sitting on a bench in one of the many corridors, you tried to concentrate on mending the small hole in your sleeve. But your hands were shaking too bad. Cursing, you were about to throw down the needed when someone took your hand. Looking up, you saw Bifur. Immediately, you smiled. Despite the tears in your eyes, or your shaking hands, you smiled at him. Bifur returned the smile, but you could see there was worry in his eyes as he sat next to you. He took your arm to see where the needle was connected too, which was a hole in your forearm. It wasn’t too big. He grumbled something before picking up the needle and, much to your surprise, started to sew the hole closed. “I didn’t think you could sow.” You speak aloud, more out of curiosity. Bifur chuckled, shaking his head before looking up at you. He spoke in Khuzdul, which you didn’t understand. But he gestured to you, then to his eyes then the hole. “You learned from me?” You smile, your cheeks burning as he nodded and continued. He must have spent a lot of time watching you considering what a good job he was doing on the stitching. When he finished, you smiled at his word as you inspected it. “Not bad at all. Im very impressed.” You grinned, stretching out your arm and admiring his work. Noise drew both your attentions to the end of the corridor, and you saw Dwalin walk past. In full armour. even after he past, the weight of what that meant stayed on you both. But, for the briefest of moment, you had forgotten about everything. Bifur had a way of doing that with you. He could distract you, making you smile and laugh even when you didn’t think you could. And if something happened to you tomorrow, you wanted him to know that. You wanted him to know everything. Glancing to Bifur, you knew it was now or never. “I love you.” You whispered it as though it were a secret and your cheeks burned. You didn’t dare look at Bifur as his head snapped to you, instead finding interest in the floor. “I just needed you to know that. In case anything happens tomorrow.” you rose to your feet, ready to leave, when a hand grabbed your wrist and you were stopped. Bifur stood in a hurry, words in Khuzdul falling from his lips like he was spitting fire. You smiled, looking at him sadly. “I cant understand you.” You giggled, despite the pain in your chest. You desperately wanted to think he was confessing and undying love for you, but you were a realist. It was far more likely that he was trying to explain how things could never happened, or how he cared for you in other ways. Bifur fell silent, the frustration in his eyes apparent as he seemed to grind his teeth. then, the frustration faded from his face, as if a realization had dawned on him. You were curious and despite the part of you that wanted to run away, you wanted to know what he was thinking. Like you always did. “Bifur?” You asked, drawing his attention back to you. He suddenly leaned down, pressing his lips to your own. You froze, out of sheer panic and surprise. Never, in a thousand years, would you think he would kiss you. You felt him pause, about to pull back when you realised you had been still as a statue. You allowed yourself to dive into the fantasy you had dreamt about for so long, and kissed him back. His bread made your skin itch a little, but you didn’t care as you reached up, your hands finding his chest. A large hand covered your left one while his other hand touched your hip, slipping around to your lower back and pulling you closer. You mewled into the kiss, enjoying the affection and attention, the war that was on the doorstep long forgotten. A voice called through the large hallways. Thorin. It made you jump and step back, panting slightly. Thorin scared you now because he was unpredictable now. The dwarf you had followed seemed long gone, and the stranger who now lead was a far cry from the original. You had hoped that you were wrong and the others who had known him longer would deny your fears. But they didn’t. Thorin called for Bifur to go to the armoury. He didn’t bother coming to search for the dwarf, instead just calling his orders and expecting the echoes to carry them. Bifur looked to you, his eyes silently asking if you were okay. You smiled, giving a small nod. Reaching out, you took his hand for a moment. “Be safe tomorrow.” You said, not posing it as a question but as a statement. He smiled, giving a small nod before mumbling something in his own words. You suspected it was similar to your own statement. and then the two of you parted, and the dread returned to your stomach.

 --------------------- time skip – after battle --------------

  Racing through the battle field, you couldn’t hear anything as you searched for the dwarfs you had grown so close to. The moment you spotted the floppy hat, you barrelled across the land, throwing yourself at the unexpecting dwarf before he laughed and hugged you back. “Good to see you’re alive too, lass.” Bofur chuckled as you pulled back, his eyes twinkling with relief, happiness and a bit of mischief. “You too. And the others?” You held your breathe for a moment, but Bofur smiled. “Yeah, they made it too. This way.” Bofur grabbed your forearm and pulled you towards the mountain. You saw Bombur resting on a large boulder, a little bit away from all the commotion at the entrance to Erebon. Bifur was standing not far, looking around anxiously with his back to you. But you’d recognised that mass of black hair anywhere. Bombur was the first to spot you, pushing himself off the boulder and engulfing you in a hug. “Thorins sending for family soon. You’ll meet my wife soon.” Bombur pulled back with a smile, and you could see the excitement in his eyes at reuniting with his dear wife. “I cant wait.” You grinned. Movement behind Bombur caught your eyes as you saw Bifur. You ducked under Bomburs arm, you raced to Bifur, throwing your arms around him before you could get a good look at him to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Before you could apologies, his arms locked around you, not allowing you even think about pulling away. “Come, brothers. Lets see if Bilbo is around.” Bofurs voice wasn’t enough to pull you away from the embrace but you saw him and Bombur leaving towards the entrance. Something seemed a little odd about it, and you thought back to the twinkle of mischief in Bofurs eyes, but didn’t want to ruin the moment. “I was so worried about you.” You spoke just above a whisper, blinking back tears of relief. “You cant get rid of me that easily, lass.” The words that met your ears were strange when paired with the voice you were so use to hearing speak Khuzdul. You pulled back, wide- eyed, earning a chuckle from Bifur. “You- you…” you trailed off, but something looked off. Dropping your arms, you frown as you stare at him, trying to figure out what was different. Bifur waited, a smirk on his lips as he held back laughter at your reaction. Then you noticed the dent in his head. “The axe!” You raised your hands over your mouth to cover your surprise. Bifur nearly keeled over as he laughed at your reaction. Proper laughter. Infectious laugher. You smiled fondly, then giggled, then started to laugh with him. In dirty clothes, covered in blood and dirt, with small cuts and nicks and a hell of a lot of bruising, you laughed wholeheartedly for the first time in what felt like a long time. The world fell still around you as you lived in the moment. As the laugher died, you found your feet closing the distant to hug him again. He pulled you tightly against himself, tighter than before. “I love you too.” He breathed in your ear, speaking with adoration and fondness. As if he had said them a million times to you. “really?” You smiled hopefully as you pulled back. “Aye. I tried to tell you before, and again last night, but-“ He pulled one hand off your waist to gesture to the indent that use to have the axe. You ducked your head slightly, smiling like an idiot as your cheeks burned red. He had tried to confess before now? You thought of all the times he had mumbled something to you, looked to you expectantly but always seemed disappointed. Bifur leaned forward, drawing your attention back to him before kissing you again. Neither of you noticed his cousins cheering from the distance.

[virlath]

Reading into the red lyrium idol and Solas’ end-game

The lyrium idol seems to be a major plot device in DA4.

The story recounts a group of spies sharing information on Solas and his plans, detailing all the information they know so far with a few lies and/or embellishments interwoven throughout. 

There is one thing everyone at the table seems to agree on though and that is: the importance of the red lyrium idol to Solas’ plans. 

But is it the same lyrium idol we know of?

In all the spies’ stories, they describe the idol as specifically depicting two figures.

Carta dwarf: ...It’s not much to look at—a couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves—but it’s sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. Mortalitasi: When he opened the thick chest marked with the Carta’s protective runes and drew it forth, we saw it clearly—an idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice, depending upon how it caught your fancy. Bard (disguised Solas): ...He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other,

For those of us who have been obsessively squinting at every little detail on the idol from all angles, it’s now quite clear there are in fact three figures on the idol, not two.

The fact that Bioware cleaned up the model from DA2, made the idol the centrepiece of the teaser, and outlined the shape of it in the corresponding mural, indicates that the description of the idol showing two figures in the book is not an accident.

The difficulty in verifying the authenticity of the idol itself is actually one of the biggest questions I have raised since reading the book, and makes me wonder if the lyrium idol in TN is the same as the one Hawke found in DA2.

We already know the Carta assassin was briefed by Varric:

“I’m only here because Viscount Tethras called in a few favors,” he said, smiling broadly, “but I didn’t expect to be the best-informed person in the room. You don’t even know what he wants, and I can tell you that!”

If anyone in Thedas could describe and spot the original idol it would be Varric. He did after all find it with Hawke, and his brother went crazy from it. 

How then could his hired spy get the description of the idol wrong, unless he was lying? And even if he was lying, why did the Mortalitasi and Bard (Solas) back him up by also describing the idol as portraying exactly two figures?

They are all spies in the room- they are supposed to pay attention to detail. How could they miss an important detail such as that? 

So, after reading this story, I have a lot of questions.

Who is the mysterious third figure in the idol and why did no spy notice it on the idol they described?

Are there multiple idols floating around that we don’t yet know of?

Did Solas plant a decoy, hoping to throw everyone off the real idol? Meaning, is he also still looking for the real idol?

Can he or the idol itself affect how it’s perceived by people in reality?

Did a chunk break off when it was smelted into Meredith’s/Samson’s sword, and is a piece still lying around somewhere in Thedas?

===

The idol’s purpose

It seems that the idol is extremely important to Solas and his plans. He claims it belongs to him, and it is clear he intends to reclaim ownership of it no matter the cost. In fact, he claims to already be in possession of it (though I am doubtful of that).

The Bard (Solas): Slowly, he lifted the red lyrium idol from the pillow where it rested. He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other, but I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven... The idol’s journey is now complete, and it has found its master. He will destroy anyone in his way without regret or hesitation, and whatever he intends, I do not believe we can stop it.

According to the Mortalitasi’s story, the idol is in fact a ritual blade:

When our power, plus the power of our arcane possessions, plus the power of his slaves’ lives, had all come to him, the Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual.

It turns out the Mortalitasi actually intended on using the idol as part of a blood magic ritual to bind spirits to their will so they could repel the Antaam invasion.

...every dream, every demon, every half-interested spirit would urge them back to the north, away from humanity. Their resolve would weaken, their invasion would crumble, and all would go back to the way it should be.

Now remember in DA2, Merrill tells us a story of a blade to end the elven civil war when she recounts the story of the Dread Wolf:

“Fen’Harel was clever. He could walk among both clans of gods without fear, and both believed he was one of them.”

“He went to each side, and told them the other had forged a terrible weapon, a blade that would end the war.”

“He told the Creators it was forged in the heavens, and the Forgotten Ones, that it was hidden in the abyss.”

In TN, Solas seems very sentimental towards the idol. This makes me wonder if he made it into a ritual blade, and took the gambit the evanuris would seek it out and unwittingly use their own power to seal themselves away.

It would be so ironic and totally Solas’ MO if that were the case, that the idol which bears Mythal’s resemblance was the key to their own prisons.

===

Why is the idol so important?

We know of the elven upstart. He is a mage named Solas, and his ritual has already started to affect the Fade. We cannot risk him acquiring this idol and finishing what he has begun.

It seems like the idol is at the centre of everything, anchoring the imprisoned evanuris and the Black City in place.

If the Mortalitasi’s blood magic ritual were to succeed, I could imagine mages becoming possessed by a a demon or even one of the evanuris by becoming a willing host. After all, the point of their ritual was to obtain power to defeat their enemies.

In fact, the Mortalitasi’s ritual reminds me a lot of the ritual described in Solas’ secret room in Trespasser which is also reiterated in the Forbidden Oasis. In both instances, a demon is summoned using blood magic to defeat their enemies.

Mythal seemingly used blood magic to win the war against the titans. What if the ritual the Mortalitasi used was in a similar vein?

“YOU MEDDLE PAST YOUR UNDERSTANDING, FOOLISH MORTAL MAGES, AND IN DOING SO, YOU THREATEN ALL CREATION.” “YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.”

I am convinced the idol/blade could be used as part of a blood magic ritual to summon a demon, either summoning the evanuris (who I believe are “demons” like Imshael and the like) or a demon from the void.

===

Solas’ end-game

We are led to believe at the end of Trespasser he simply wants to restore the world of his time. Imo that’s only partly true.

I think Solas tearing down the veil is simply the necessary first step for him to destroy the Black City and the false gods for good. This is where I think the idol would come into play. 

The veil is also a fabrication created by Solas, and there have been signs throughout the series from DA:O to DA:I that the veil is tearing apart, irreparably.

Demons seize every opportunity, every tear in the Veil, to enter our world. Once the Veil is torn, it is extremely difficult to mend, some say impossible. 

What does it mean to pierce the Veil, that which separates our world from the realm of dreams and demons? For the average man and woman, it is a frightening thought to consider just how fragile this separation actually is.

The Veil is not a physical curtain, not a structure limited to a particular place—it is everywhere. It is in their home, in the streets where they walk, in farmers' fields as well as remote mountain vales. At any moment it could be torn to shreds, allowing demons and other horrors to flood into our world like water through a burst dam.

Apart from the Inquisitor, no person in Thedas has successfully been able to seal rifts.

This means over time, with more veil tears and death, the more fragile the veil will be. Eventually, it will break entirely. I think this would be inevitable, whether or not Solas destroys it. 

Cole calls the Veil wonderful in Trespasser, because it was created to forbid. And we know the veil forbids all the demons and false gods from entering the physical world. With the idol now floating around in Thedas and with a weakened veil, I think there is a possibility using the idol could summon or release the evanuris from their prisons.

His measurements of the veil and testing of its strength indicates to me he is still trying to see how he can fix the veil or work it into a new plan. With the loss of his orb, the idol may be the last piece of security he has.

This is why I don’t buy the fact that he simply wants to tear down the veil and restore ancient Elvhenan like he wishes he was in the past. There has to be more than that- there is no way he hasn’t accounted for the Redcliffe possibility.

Since Solas is the actual creator of the veil, he alone has a chance at preserving what remains while fixing/amending whatever plans he had for the false gods.

It actually makes a lot of sense that Solas would not want to tell anyone too much about his plans, even the Inquisitor. Not only does he not trust people, I think his actions in TN prove he is worried about the idol falling into the wrong hands and the temptation to use it. 

Maybe his actions and letting Charter go free is even an indication that he is manipulating the Inquisition to continue ‘working against him’ when in fact they are a part of his grander plans.

[ruthoakenshield]

Thorin and the Gem Carver (Part 12)

Balin and Galadriel arrive with you in the wheeled chair and you all are greeted by a chorus of “Welcome!” Thorin, once again is stunned speechless by how lovely you look in the golden gown. Kili and Fili are giggling and watch their Amad elbow Thorin to snap him out of it. She chuckles and gives him a nudge towards you.

He comes over to you and kisses your forehead, then rests his on it for a moment. “My kidhuzurâl (golden one), how are you today?” he asks as he stands back up. You blush at his greeting and look up to Balin. He chuckles and tells Thorin, “She has asked me to adopt her as my Nâthuê kurdu (daughter of my heart).” He says quietly, but beaming.

Thorin gets a huge grin and pats Balin on the shoulder. “I am happy for you, Bâhaê ‘ugmul (my oldest friend). You have waited a long time for a child, and now Mahal blesses you with a daughter who’s hair matches yours!” he teases.

Balin guffaws and nods. “Aye, that it does, aside from the lovely blue.” He says, caressing your head lovingly. You tilt your head into his hand and enjoy his attentions. Thorin glances down at you and notices his courting braids near your face. He squats down and tilts your head to see how you got them so short. “How is it that your courting braids got so short, Gehyith (Little Dove)?” he inquires.

You tell him how your maid used the braid to make the diamond patterns on either side of your head with them so that the braids and beads could be seen and appreciated.” Thorin caresses the beautiful diamond patterns on the side of your head. “It is a clever maid you have. I approve of her design.” He says and stands. “Come, let us eat and celebrate Balin gaining a daughter!” he exclaims happy for his friend.

You giggle and Balin pushes you over to sit on Thorin’s right side. Fili is once again next to you and gives you a grin. “You look lovely, once again!” he tells you. “What is this?” he says, noticing his Uncle’s braids and beads hanging from your temples. “You didn’t notice them before?” you tease.

He shakes his head. “No, I guess I didn’t. When did he put them in your hair?” he asks. You laugh quietly, nearly a week ago! But the beads were all the way down by my feet and wouldn’t be seen by anyone. I was afraid of losing them, so Galadriel asked my maids to find a way to shorten the braids without cutting them or undoing them. This is what they came up with for today.” You explain.

He gazes at the diamond pattern she made with the courting braid. “I’ve never seen such a thing done with courting braids before! It makes such a pretty pattern in your hair like that! He exclaims quietly. Kee, look at what Jade’s maid did with Uncle’s courting braids in her hair!” he elbows his brother. Kili looks over and his eyes get wide, “Oooh! That looks neat! You should use that design for your royal border when you and Uncle marry!” he suggests. Thorin smirks at hearing his nephew say, ‘when’. Balin chuckles too.

You blush deeply and Thorin grins. Just then, your Aunt and Dwalin come into the Dining hall arm in arm and join you all at the table across from you. She notices your hair and comments on it, telling you it looks beautiful. You blush again and she grins. Thorin tells everyone he’d like their attention. The room quiets and he stands.

“Balin just informed me when he arrived with our dear Jade, that she has asked him to formally adopt her, wanting him to take over the role of Adad for her.” He announces. “Balin has agreed and so Jade will now be known as his Nâthuê kurdu (daughter of my heart).” Everyone looks at the two of you and cheers. Your face is beet red with embarrassment and you grin and duck your head. Everyone congratulates you both and Bombur brings out the best wine and mead and ale for everyone to celebrate with.

Thorin sits and takes your hand. “I am happy for you, Amrâlimê.” He tells you. “Balin is a wise and kind Dwarf and will make a wonderful Father figure for you.” He adds. “Aye, welcome to the family, Lass!” Dwalin says to you with a huge grin and holds up his mug of ale to you. You look at Thorin and he grins and helps you hold up your goblet of mead to his mug. Then he helps you to take a drink. “Thank you.” You tell them both.

Dwalin winks and chuckles. “So what did you do this morning while we were in council with a bunch of crabby old Dwarves?” Dwalin asks you. You sigh and reply, “I got bored being stuck in my room, so Galadriel asked the guard to find someone to show me around Erebor for a few hours. He went and got Bofur and Kili since you all were in council meetings.

We went to see the Hobbit’s garden, and the Library. Ori gave us a tour and he actually had one of my Mother’s journals that she had kept her drawings and designs for various projects she was working on. He gave it to me, and he also had some of my Poppa’s maps, which I told him to keep for the library. I didn’t have any use for them now that it seems that my traveling days are done.” You say sadly.

“Don’t say that, Jade.” I’m sure you’ll be able to travel again, it’ll just be a while until you’ve regained enough strength to do so.” Fili tells you.

You sigh. “It’s hard for me to just sit and not be doing something. It’s hard for me to need SO much help. I feel like a caged beast thanks to these injuries.” You say quietly. “You all have been so kind and generous to me, and I truly am grateful, but I just feel like I don’t fit in here. I’m used to leather and cotton and traveling from place to place, never settling down anyplace for too long. I’m used to the simple life roughing it. Being in luxury and fine dresses and jewelry like I am is foreign to me. I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror now.” you sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you trail off and look down into your lap, feeling embarrassed.”

Thorin and Dwalin look at each other, puzzled. They look down to Balin and he sees the puzzled expressions. Galadrial notices and asks them in their minds what the problem is. They tell her and she sighs. “She has been like this all morning.” She tells them. “She is struggling to come to terms with her losses and her new lifestyle. Just be patient and give her time to adjust.” She tells them.

Thorin reaches over to you and takes your hand. “Gehyith (Little Dove), I know you’re having a hard time adjusting. I understand. You did not grow up in this environment like we did. It will take time to adjust. We will do what we can to make it easier for you. If you need a break from things, let us know. If you wish for a change of scenery, we can arrange for you to visit friends in Dale or take you to see Lake Town. I do not recommend you go into the Greenwood though until you are wed. Thranduril may not let you leave if he catches you in his wooded realm.” He warns you. You nod.

“Come now, what would you like to eat for lunch?” he asks gesturing to the food on the table that Bombur and his family are setting down. You tell him what you’d like, and Fili takes your plate and puts the food on it and cuts it up for you so you can work on eating. He sets your plate in front of you and asks if there’s anything else you would like. You shake your head and he goes to fill his plate.

Thorin helps you stab the food with your fork and you can get it almost to your mouth now after using the new cutlery he gave you with the gem handles that are easier for you to hang onto. He helps you when you need it and helps you drink when you are thirsty. He eats between helping you and visiting with you and Dwalin and your Aunt.

Dis asks you how you liked the Library. “Oh! It’s lovely! I told Ori he should give lessons to the librarians in the White City! Their library is a huge mess! I don’t know how they can find anything in their library! It’s SO unorganized!!!” you giggle. Ori has done an amazing job in Erebor’s library and I look forward to spending more time exploring it when I am finally able to move on my own without needing help.” You tell her.

She grins and nods. “He has done a LOT of work cataloging and cleaning and organizing it. Balin tells me your Aunt is learning to read and write our language and will be helping him in the library once she is proficient in it!” Dis exclaims.

Julia nods. “Yes, Balin is teaching me and Dwalin is helping me practice reading and writing Khuzdul.” Julia confirms. “I’m enjoying learning to read stories and tales and can’t wait to be able to read the books in the library and go on my own adventures through them.” She giggles excitedly.

Dis just smiles warmly at seeing her excitement.

“Jade, did you have any other hobbies besides carving wood and gems?” Kili asks after a while. You frown. “Not really. Carving was all I ever seemed to do, aside from sketching out plans and designs like Poppa showed me to do. He never let me carve anything until I had drawn it out so it could be easily visualized by both me and the person I was making the piece for. That way they could make changes to it before I began to carve.” You explain.

“Did you have a book you drew your sketches in?” Kili asks. You shrug. “Not really. I just used whatever was available. Theoden had scraps of parchment that were saved and used for making first drafts of documents, they’d use both sides of the parchments before burning them.” You explain. “I’d make my drawings on those, once the job was completed, the drawings would be burned since they were not needed any longer.” You explain.

“Bummer!” Kili says, “I was hoping to see the different sketches of the things you had carved. All we’ve seen is the sapphire horse you carved for Eowyn.” He says. You frown. “Most of the items I carved were either for Theoden or for Elrond and Galadriel. I did most of the carvings in the great hall for Theoden, along with his throne and the various bed chambers they had for both the royal family and guests.” You say quietly.

Thorin’s, Dwalin’s, Kili’s, Fili’s and Dis’ eyes all get huge. “YOU carved those?!?” they all exclaim! We wondered who did such fine carvings!” Dwalin exclaimed. You duck your head and blush. “Really, Jade? You carved all those?” Fili asks you. You nod. “It took me several years to do them all.

Theoden had me start out in the guest chambers. Told me I could carve whatever I liked in them since I had been traveling through the kingdoms and lands of men and elves and a few dwarves for several decades. He trusted me to carve things that would appeal to them all. Once I had finished those rooms, he examined each one and approved, then he let me carve for their private chambers, giving me instructions as to what each chamber’s owner wanted carved. I drew up designs for them and the owner of the chamber and I would work together to come up with a design they liked. Then I’d carve in that room until it was finished, and then move on to the next room.

I started with Eowyn’s room, then her brother, Eomer’s, then their cousin, Théodred’s. Once they all attested to my skills, Theoden allowed me to carve in his room and then when he saw my skills and ability to carve in great detail, he gave me permission to carve in his great halls. Theoden had little in the way of treasure of gems, but he did allow me to carve a few of the ones he did possess. I made a signet ring for Theodred and for Eomer, and carved the sapphire horses for Eowyn that you have already seen.” You explain between bites of dessert. “I never thought to keep the drawings I did. I never thought anyone else would want to see them when they can go to the places to see the actual results for themselves.” You explain.

Thorin listens to you explaining your process for how you did carvings for Theoden, he decided to get you a journal that you can do your sketch designs in and keep them for future references. He decides to give it to you as a second courting gift. (The cutlery set didn’t count since it was a combined gift from him, Galadriel and Celeborn.)

Once everyone was done eating, you were wheeled back from the table by Fili and Kili. You sigh and look around. You see a carving of a beautiful raven off in the corner by the fireplace and ask Fili to push you over to it so you could look at it. He and Kili push you over to the statue and you sigh. “Can you help me to stand so I can see it?” you ask.

They look unsure. “I don’t know, Jade. Are you supposed to be standing yet?” Fili asks. “No.” a voice from behind them says. “But if you both support her weight, I will allow it.” Thorin rumbles. “Just be careful.” He adds.

They nod. Fili comes and stands in front of you. “Hook your arms around my neck, Jade.” He says. He puts his hands under your arms to lift you up. Kili is behind you and holds your hips, helping to lift you. Once they get you standing, Thorin moves the wheeled chair out from behind you.

Kili supports your weight by wrapping his arms around your middle and holds you flush against his chest. Your legs tingle like they are waking up from being asleep. You try to ignore the sensations and let go of Fili’s neck as he steps around next to you. “You got her okay, Kee?” he asks. Kili nods. “She doesn’t weigh much, Fee.” He giggles. You ask Fili to tuck the end of your dress into your belt so Kili doesn’t step on it and tear it. He blushes as it reveals your legs up to your knees, but does what you ask.

Fili moves closer to the statue so you can examine it better. You are amazed at the amount of fine detail. Each feather’s veining is carved into the black obsidian stone. Thorin, Balin and Dwalin stand off to the side near the fireplace and watch you.

Kili is holding you so that your feet just barely rest on the floor. When he moves, he hooks your feet on top of his, so your legs move in time with his like when a young dwarrowdam stands on her Adad’s feet to learn to dance. Balin chuckles and comments on it. Thorin and Dis chuckle as she joins them by the fire to watch you with her sons. “I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing that.” Dis says with a grin.

Galadriel comes over and stands by them watching you. You’re completely engrossed in examining the statue and the two young dwarves are telling you about the great Raven who chose to serve their ancestor, Durin the Deathless. They explain to you that the Raven was the inspiration for this piece and it is supposed to be Durin the Deathless’ Raven and that all the Ravens who serve the line of Durin are descended from that original Raven.

You are caressing the feathers and enjoying the feeling of the cool stone and the subtle engravings under your fingers. You turn slightly to examine the feet of the bird when your leg moves on it’s own as if you were trying to shift from one leg to the other. Kili’s eyes get huge. “Hey! You moved your leg all on your own, Jade!” he exclaims.

“Huh?” you say, confused. “When you turned to examine the Raven’s feet, your body weight shifted and your leg moved on it’s own as if you were going to put your weight onto it.” he tells you. You look down and sure enough, it’s moved from where it had been resting on top of Kili’s boot.

“Huh!” you say, puzzled. ‘I don’t know how I did it!” you reply. “Try to move it again, Jade.” Fili says excitedly. You look down at it and nothing happens. You look up at Fili and frown. “Nothing’s happening.” You say, puzzled.

“Hmmm.” Fili says, rubbing his beard and playing with his mustache braids. “Try picturing yourself walking to me.” He says and takes a couple steps away. Kili turns you so you’re facing Fili. You close your eyes and picture yourself walking to Fili. You feel tingling in your legs and feet. You concentrate on the feeling now and you feel your foot twitch.

Your eyes are still closed so you don’t see the Dwarves’ reaction to the two brothers encouraging you to try to move your legs again. Their eyes open wide with surprise when your left foot twitches forward a half step then stops. Galadriel grins and encourages you in your mind. “Good, keep doing that Jade. Whatever it is you are doing, keep doing it. Your foot moved forward a half step.” She tells you silently.

You continue to focus and this time on your other foot. You feel the tingle build in your muscles then feel it twitch and hear a small gasp come from your right. You want to look, but Kili keeps encouraging you. “Great job, Jade. Do it again!” he tells you.

You spend the next few minutes focusing on the tingles in your legs, feeling them build and then release in a twitch of your muscles, making you take a half step forward each time. Kili and Fili are absolutely ecstatic and are excited to see you moving your legs. The adult Dwarves stand there stunned, watching you ever so slowly make your way a few feet across the floor to where Fili was standing.

You get about half-way to Fili and then say, “Kee, I’m tired. Can I please sit again?” “Sure, Jade. You did great! I’m proud of you!” he tells you. “Yeah, Jade. That was awesome to see! We’ll have to keep practicing that with you.” Fili tells you as he brings the wheeled chair over to you. He helps Kili lower you into the chair and you rub your legs. “Are your legs hurting, Lass?” Balin asks as he comes over to make sure you’re okay.

“Just tingly.” You reply. “I’m proud of you, ‘Ibinê (My gem). You did very good for a first time!” He praises you. “I think we should have Oin take a look at your spine again and see if he is okay with you practicing like this though. “How did it feel? Any pain anywhere?” he asks.

You shake your head, “No, it just tingled. The tingling sensation would build up and then feel like it explodes or releases and makes the muscles twitch. Then builds up again and repeats when I try to move my legs.” You try to explain what you’re feeling, unsure if you’re getting across to him what you are feeling.” Galadriel grins.

“That is a good sign, Jade. It means the nerves are starting to reconnect and communicate with your brain again.” She tells you and the other Dwarrow. “Just don’t over do it. A little at a time, until you don’t feel exhausted any longer.” She suggests.

You all nod. “I think you should go lie down for a while. Sweetheart. You’re looking pretty tired.” Balin tells you. You nod and yawn, making them all chuckle.

“I’ll take you back to your room.” He tells you. “Your Aunt and Dwalin left to get her back to the Library to help Ori with a project, so I’ll have the maids come help you get ready for your nap, and I’ll come sit with you once you’re ready to sleep. If you need anything, I’ll be right by the fireplace.” He tells you.

“Mind if I join you?” Thorin asks Balin. Balin looks down to you. You shrug. “I guess it would be alright, since the two of you are not being left alone and are chaperoned.” Balin teases. Thorin rolls his eyes and chuckles.

You thank Kili and Fili for helping you and for telling you about the ravens. They grin and nod. “Get some rest, Jade.” They say, “Hurun ganat.”(rest well)

Thorin walks with you as Balin pushes you in the wheeled chair down the hall and back to your room. You look at the carvings on the wall directing the inhabitants to different areas of the mountain. “Adad, you said that guests sometimes stay in the royal wing?” you ask.

Balin grins, hearing you call him Adad. “Yes, Lass, why do you ask?” he inquires, pausing as you look over at another of the carvings on the wall. “How do they know where to go in the mountain when they can not read these carvings?” you ask.

Balin and Thorin look at each other, then down at you. “They ask the guards.” Thorin tells you.

You frown. “Wouldn’t it show them more hospitality if there were additional engravings in the common tongue directing them how to navigate the mountain like the khuzdul engravings do for the dwarrow?” you inquire.

They both look at you in surprise. Then Balin chuckles. “Yes, Lass, I suppose it would be more hospitable for them to not constantly have to ask a guard for directions if they could just read them on the walls in common tongue. I guess no one ever thought to do it till now.” he says patting your shoulder.

Thorin smiles, appreciating your thoughtful gesture to guests in the mountain who could not read Khuzdul.

They arrive back at your suite and Thorin sends a guard to go fetch your maids so they can help you get ready for a nap.

More Chapters to come.

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[cypris-thalsian]

The Gift: Part IV

[ Part I, Part II, Part III, Written with @thalsianiii​ ]

All through the morning pack up, Cypris had remained quiet. The rest did seem to help, though the night prior had done little to settle her nerves. She did as she had any other time she'd felt knocked back, picked herself up and pushed forward, steeling herself for whatever was to come. While it had usually been instinct to carry such thoughts solely on her own shoulders, she didn't let herself withdraw from Percival's help and comfort. If she was loosing herself, she'd fight it with her chin raised and shoulders squared. 

Much like she had on the flight to the Swamp, she held firm to Percival on the last leg of the journey to Stranglethorn. Perhaps a touch tighter in an effort to keep herself grounded in mid air. It wouldn't be until they neared Booty Bay, that ever so often a body may have been seen laying splayed out along the road leading to the port town. 

The planks of the harbor itself seemed to be far less bustling than it's usual. A few hands scurried about moving just enough to keep a few of the businesses going. Even the ships had taken to setting anchor just off shore rather than drawing too close.

As promised, Percival had woken up just a bit earlier to go picking mushrooms and foraging for swamp clams. All of which were tucked away in a pack so that he could get to 'cooking' once they made it to Booty Bay.

His concern for Cypris never wavered. Too much was going wrong at once for it all to be coincidence. All he could think was that it was those damned Loa of her playing some kind of trick.

Upon their arrival it was clear something was wrong here, too.

"What on Azeroth..." Percival mumbled on the back of their dragonhawk as they circled around.

"Never seen the port this quiet... and so many dead bodies strewn about on the way over...What's going on?"

Lifting her cheek from his back, Cy looked out over the Bay as further confusion stemmed from Percival. Spying the bodies and hushed overtone of the port, her brows furrowed with her own loss for an explanation. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Looking out towards the sea she tried to see the flags of the ships, or any added clues on board. The ships were just as quiet, some seemingly preparing to depart or erring on the side of caution. Shifting where she sat on the back of the dragonhawk, she tried to see towards Lairn's shop but there was little telling information to be had beyond a pair of windows boarded up. 

"Shall we find out?" It was then a scream came from one of the inn balconies, a woman ran outward in an attempt to escape a shambling ghoul in the form of what appeared to be a lost sailor decaying and dripping it's disease.

"Good ide-" Percival was cut off before he could finish his statement. Starburn hovered at his command of the reins rather than go in for a landing at the roost.

"Undead? Inside the bay?" he remarked with mild confusion.

"If it weren't for the corpses outside I'd think it was a rogue necromancer causing a ruckus. This is odd."

He veered the Dragonhawk towards a higher rooftop. It seemed the safer option to make landfall before dismounting sending her away to the relative safety of the skies and trees.

"Where's Lairn's shop? Does it look like she's alright?" he asked.

"I suppose it's still possible.. certainly a point to hit with all the ships in and out... I'd heard of forsaken ships along the coast a few years back, this doesn't look like their handy work." 

Cypris held firm, looking over for anything she might have missed. In the disarray of it all, only a closer look would truly remedy the lack of information. "Almost wish we'd stayed home between last night and now this..." She huffed. 

"Her windows are boarded. I don't see her though. She's tough.." The last came as more of a reassurance to herself than any real explanation. The dwarven woman had seen and lived through her fair share of the world's troubles, given as much hell as she took. But even dwarves slowed with age. The thought of something perchance happening to the old bat, churned a twist of guilt to the fire-starter's stomach.

"I'm wishing the same thing..." he huffed. With a wave of his hand across his face, Percival conjured forth his battle mask.

"Well whatever's happening, we won't leave the old girl to tangle with ghouls and gheists alone," he decided with a confident tone. The last thing he needed was his wife to feel any more emotional pain than she already had these past few days.

He made a series of gestures with his hands before pressing both palms against the roof they stood on. A pair of black gates appeared and his trusty Felstalkers crawled out.

"You two, devour any undead you come across. But leave the civilians alone. This is still amicable territory for us." he instructed before sending them off and turned back to Cypris.

"Hopefully the locals won't mind a little off brand backup," he said with a nod, "Let's go see to Lairn."

Settling her footing to the roof, just as Percival called forth his mask, she drew her daggers. While he summoned the stalkers, she took the tandem of surveying the nearby surroundings. 

The woman that was screaming from her balcony had backed herself to the ledge and found herself pinned struggling to knock back the creature's assault. Those that remained out of doors, didn't make a move to help, knowing it was too late as stains of crimson poured down the planks. Below where dead and ghouls lingered in the water, a few spots along the edges the once blue waters were stained red in the wash of the waves. Just beyond the clouds of blood lurked the sharks called in for a meal to chum. 

Just below the walkway seemed clear, but there was little telling what lie just beneath the couple's feet. A man made his way passed to one of the huts with a pail of red paint, marking the door with a large 'X'. As the stalkers drew near on their run passed, he quickly shuddered back against the rail, spilling out a bit of the paint along the stained boards. On closer inspection a small handful of the huts had the mark, stirring Cy's attention to Lairn's door, finding it remained unmarked. 

"The dead are slow... not that I need to tell you.." She'd started to explain the plan before remembering just who she was talking to. It was enough to stir a familiar grin to her cheeks, the one that came when there was potential trouble to be dealt with. It was nearly enough to chase the exhaustion from her eyes, but not quite.

Taking a few steps back, Cy gave a running jump to make it to the next roof. She was aiming to hop along to a more stable rail that would hold well enough to see her to the foot path leading to Lairn's shop. The thudding of her leather boots not quiet enough to hide her steps from the lingering souls below. 

Hitting the planks of the pathway a man stepped out, his eyes sunken, sweat beading his brow but not quite gone. "Please..." Came his whimpered call for help, "You've got to help us." He slowly started outward, hand reaching out.

Percival lacked the speed and grace of his lover. Even so, he did his best to jump along with her. Stumbling a few times, making far more racket than hers did.

"Slow, and weak," he added between jumps.

The 'X' marked doors caught his attention, along with the man who was painting them. It was as if a plague had gripped the city. Gears in Percival's head slowly starting to piece things together.

The man reaching for his wife was enough to stir him into an almost irrational state. He rushed up and grabbed the man by the wrist before it could get any closer to Cypris. Not that he didn't have faith that she could handle one decrepit sick man. But after her latest weaknesses, he was on guard more than usual.

"What's happening here? Why are the dead invading?" he asked the sickly leper.

"A plague... just like before..." was all he could manage to utter before he began to fall to a fit of hacking coughs.

Percival's head turned to look at his wife. She didn't need to see his face to know the gravity of expression painting his features behind the mask.

Cy had squared her step, ready to meet the man with her blade if need be. She'd been of similar mind to ask the question that Percival pushed forward to ask first. It was the answer that followed along with the hacking near Percival that had her usually sunny tones paling. "Kill him." She said simply. "Unless you think he has more answers..."

She'd felt the gravity, she'd been in Stormwind or nearby when the last outbreak had spilled through the lands. Giving a shake of her head at the memories, worry for the elder dwarf swelled, but also that of the Ava.  "Might explain the quiet last night. No patrols, that place is a breeding ground for this..."

Whether it was her nerves of the moment or something else all together, Cy started to step back with another churn of her stomach. "I've got to... Got to... Lai..." Her hand dropped one of her daggers to grip at the railing just as she turned and purged the remnants of breakfast on the landing below.

Cypris had barely gotten the kill request out of her lips before Percival did exactly that. He heard about the last plague that the south experienced, but he hadn't witnessed anything like this since the Third War. Even so, he knew all to well how bad it could get. Without hesitation, Felfire crawled up the mans arm and ran rampant along his figure until he crippled down into a hump of burning meat. Such potent fire would leave little more than ash and bone fragments by the time it was done.

"You'd be right. Suppose we were fortunate not to be caught... looks like something was on our side after all." he huffed.

His demeanor shifted when Cypris found herself growing ill. They had just deciphered the potential return of the Plague of Undeath and now she was growing sick.

"Cypris!" he shouted as he rushed to her side.

Panic was festering in his stomach, a feeling he could not afford now.

"Can you walk?" he asked, a hand placed on her back as she retched.

"We'll get you to Lairn immediately."

The hand shifted from the rail to Percival's arm, both for support to keep herself upright and to give a reassuring squeeze to his arm. When she'd given up all that she could, the back of her other arm raked across her lips before sheathing her blade. "I'm fine. I can walk... I can walk.."

She took a pair of deep breaths but found it to be a mistake with the smell of newly burnt remains along with the ill in the air. Holding firm a moment more until she knew her feet were steady under her, she eventually reached down taking up the dropped dagger. 

Mustering up a wry smile, one close to the one she'd had before the announcement of the plague had shaken her nerves, "I'm a fire-starter. I don't get sick." A laugh followed, but she knew full well with her exhaustion the last weeks combined with the upset of the past days, her idea of that reality might have changed. 

"There's no mark on her door." She noted, remaining close to the warlock rather than making an effort to rely on her own abilities.

If it weren't for the mask, Cypris would see Percival smile in response to her quip. A smile that wouldn't quite reach his eyes.

"If you're sure," he said with a nod. He looked around for a suitable path to make it to Lairn's unmarked door. It only made sense that the man from earlier was making doors that held sick or dead inside. Lairn being something of a healer, it was little surprise she might be safe.

"Alright, let's go," he agreed, keeping close to Cypris so she could lean on him as she needed. His free arm dripped with Felfire and cursed words were resting on the tip of his tongue. Anything, living or dead, that crossed their path in this moment would meet a swift end if he had anything to say about it.

A silent, psychic command called forth one of the rampaging Felstalkers to act as their guard dog. He was sparing no expense on his wife's safety today.

She felt the touch of his smile, but the sound of his voice let her know it was as faltered as her own. They both failed at presenting a strong face for the other when their nerves and concerns could be felt so deeply within. Mulling her lips, Cy worked to get the taste from her mouth, using it as a distraction as they pushed through the pathway. 

Most were afraid to leave their homes, the ones who had considered it before had likely seen the aftermath of the man who dared to ask the pair for help. The closer they came to Lairn's door, the sound of a steady thudding could be heard along with the unintelligible growly moan of another sailor long dead. 

The figure, having managed to wedge itself along the side path of the Elder dwarf's home, was repeatedly pressing forward in it's blind effort to feed on what lay within the hut. The sound of steps on the planks, however turned its attention towards the trio. As it turned, flesh of it's middle caught at a half driven nail, spilling out sun aged infection down it's front to the planks of the path. 

A sneer curled at Cy's nose, as she grumbled, "Fuck..."

A bolt of fel was sent careening towards the freshly undead sailors head. Probably enough to incapacitate a simple zombie. But Percival took no chances. The hound was released to gnaw on and devour any and all of the risen sailor.

If nothing else, the Felstalkers of the Burning Crusade were incredible assets at cleaning up corpses. The two of them would be good and fat by the end of the day.

Once the simple zombie was dealt with, Percival escorted Cypris to Lairn's front door and banged on it a good three times.

"Lairn! Open the damned door before I burn it down!" he called out. He was usually much more polite when it came to Cypris's adopted grammy. But he had no patience left for niceties anymore.

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: The Magic (Chapter 17)

In which the last of the curse is swept away and Zelena gets what’s coming to her. 

-

This chapter took me sooo loooonnggg to write. Partly because of writing other things, partly because I’m struggling to focus during the lockdown. Normally I spend at least one afternoon a week writing at a local coffee shop but of course that’s not possible right now and it’s wreaking a bit of havoc with my productivity. 

BUT! There is now a chapter count for this story! It will be 18 chapters in total, this one and a final one to wrap things up. Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with it for the past *gulp* more than a year. I love you all, but especially @thisonesatellite​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ and @katie-dub​​ whose enthusiasm and support means the world to me ❤️❤️❤️

-

SUMMARY: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might  help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from a new and dangerous foe.

Rating: M

AO3

-

The Magic:

Snow White had heard the expression ‘earth-shattering orgasm’ before, of course she had, but like any sensible woman with a realistic perspective on men and their limitations, she’d never taken the phrase literally. 

Until now. 

Now she lay sprawled and trembling in her once-lonely bed, panting harshly wondering if the world had always spun so damned fast. She chuckled breathlessly against the sweat-slicked skin of David’s shoulder. 

“Damn, Charming, you’ve always been good but I’ve never felt the earth move before,” she teased. 

David rolled over and grinned at her, his hand trailing down her side and over her hip. “What can I say? It’s been a long time and I was highly motivated.”  He leaned in to nuzzle her neck as his words echoed through her mind. 

It’s been a long time… a long time… long time…

Snow gasped as realisation struck, just as David pulled back with a start and she could see he understood as well. “The curse,” she exclaimed. “Is it broken?” 

“I think it is,” he replied. “I remember…” His eyes filled with regret and he pulled her close again. “Snow. I remember.” 

Snow wrapped her arms around him and they held each other in silence for a moment, far too tightly for comfort and still not nearly tight enough as their cursed memories washed over them. Everything that had happened over the past year, the wretchedness of it, living together and feeling nothing for each other. It should have been impossible, Snow thought, they were True Love. She could certainly feel her love for him now, surging up almost indignantly as if it resented having gone un-felt for so long, and yet she remembered looking at him with pure indifference. She shuddered and David’s arms tightened still further. She knew he was wondering the same thing she was. Who, what, could possibly have done this to them? 

She tried to sort through the memories, of Regina—as their maid, of all unbelievable things—and Zelena—wait, who exactly was Zelena?—and Emma, and— 

“Emma!” she cried, jerking her head back so abruptly it narrowly missed a collision with David’s chin. “David, she’s here in Storybrooke! How is she here?” 

“I was just wondering that,” he said grimly. “What do you say we go find out?” 

~

“We should go to Granny’s,” suggested Henry. “That’s where everyone went when the last curse broke. I bet they’ll go there again.” 

“Good thinking.” Emma nodded in agreement but Killian shook his head.

“What about Zelena?” he asked. “Do we know how the curse breaking will affect her? Perhaps we should stop by the sheriff’s station first.” 

“I think Zelena will be okay in her cell for a bit longer,” Emma replied. “She’s still behind that shielding spell I put around her.” 

“Nevertheless I’d feel better if we checked,” said Killian. “Not that I don’t have every faith in you, Swan, but we should err on the side of caution. Zelena is nothing if not unpredictable.” 

“Hmmm, yeah that is a point. And she has been one step ahead of us for most of this.” Emma’s expression turned thoughtful. “Okay, we can go to the sheriff’s station, but I’d actually kind of like to go find my parents first.” She shrugged. “Just to see them, you know. Before we get caught up with the rest of the town.”

Killian smiled. “Of course, love.”

“And, um, actually, can I go to Regina’s?” asked Henry. “I want to make sure she’s okay, and I can tell her about the plan to meet at Granny’s.” 

“That’s probably a good idea,” said Emma. “The rest of us can go to my parents—” 

“It might be better if you did that without me,” Killian interjected. “Your father and I were still on rather shaky terms when I saw him last and my presence with you would likely raise some questions best kept for later.” 

Neal snorted, then shrugged when the other three glared at him. “What? He’s not wrong.” 

“So where will you go?” Emma asked. 

“I was thinking I could stop at the sheriff’s station by myself. If Zelena is as secure as you think then you needn’t come along unless you wish to. I can check on her quickly then head to Granny’s and meet you there.” 

“Okay, that sounds like a good plan,” said Emma. “Henry goes to get Regina—” 

“And Robin, they have a date tonight so he should be with her.” Henry’s eyes lit up. “I bet Robin Hood will be useful in—well, in whatever comes now.” 

“Yeah, okay, so Henry goes to get Regina and Robin while I go to find my parents, and Killian will go to the station to check on Zelena. We’ll meet back at Granny’s as soon as possible. Everyone okay with that?” They all nodded except Neal, who still stood in the corner with his arms crossed. Emma fixed him with a glare and he scowled in reply. “Neal?” she said in a warning tone. “What about you?” 

Neal swept the room with his scowl and shrugged again. “I’ll go with Hook,” he said. “Check on Zelena then meet you at Granny’s.” 

“Really?” Emma demanded. “That’s what you want to do?”

“Hey don’t forget I worked for Zelena under the curse. I saw what she’s capable of, and that was without magic. If she’s even a little bit free then trust me, the pirate’s gonna need backup.” 

Emma looked questioningly at Killian. “I wouldn’t mind some backup, actually,” he said. 

“And you’re sure you’ll—be okay?” Emma asked, turning to Neal again. 

“If you’re asking can I go half an hour without punching your husband, yeah I can,” he replied with a sneer. “But those questions your parents are gonna have? I’ve got them too. Just as long as both of you remember that.” 

“Once we’re sure the town’s safe we will tell all of you everything,” Emma assured him. “We promise. Just behave yourselves until then. Both of you.” 

Killian and Neal exchanged a long look, then nodded stiffly to each other. 

“Fine by me,” said Neal. 

“Aye, and me.” Killian tightened the arm that still rested around Emma’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Be careful, love,” he murmured in her ear. “We’ll see you at Granny’s.” 

Emma tightened her hold around his waist and quickly checked the protection spells around him. They were still firmly in place, and as strong as ever. Even if she somehow managed to gain control of the curse magic, there was no way Zelena could use it to harm Killian. Emma drew a deep breath and told herself to relax. Killian was safe, thoroughly protected, and there was no reason for him to know that she’d never let him go alone to face Zelena unless she was certain of that. 

She gave him a final squeeze and then released him, stepping back and gathering her magic. 

“Everyone ready?” she asked. 

“Just one last thing.” Killian disappeared into their bedroom and returned a moment later, tightening the straps of the brace that held his hook. 

“Just in case,” he said, as he tugged the sleeve of his sweater down over it and Emma nodded. “Ready when you are, love.”

She poofed Henry first, sending him straight to the living room of the loft. Killian and Neal she directed to a safe corner of the sheriff’s station, then took herself to the doorstep of the house where her parents now lived. 

~

The Rabbit Hole was silent but for the low drone of the dwarves’ conversation across the room. The Merry Men sat in a circle, beer mugs clutched in white-knuckled grips, every ear turned to the large man standing at their centre. 

“And that,” concluded Little John, with one final flourish to his rapt audience, “is how I reorganised the entire filing system at the library!” 

The Merry Men erupted into cheers, pounding on their tables or leaping to their feet to clap the hero Little John on his back in hearty congratulation. All but Will Scarlet, who sat back in his chair with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. 

“Pah,” he scoffed, once the furore had died down. 

“What’s that, Scarlet?” said Little John. “Did you say something?” 

“Pah, is what I said,” Will replied. “You’re always biggin’ yourself up, John.” 

“Oh? You think you could do better?” 

“I’m the bloody town records clerk, mate, of course I could do better. Let me tell you about my filing system—” 

Alan-a-Dale took a deep swig of his beer and shook his head fondly. “I never thought I’d live to see a day on which Will bloody Scarlet boasted about his filing system, eh, Stutely?” He elbowed the man sitting next to him. “I could see you doing that perhaps… but...” his words trailed off as he realised what he’d said. 

Scarlet... Stutely... filing systems... 

The curse. 

At the bar, Grumpy was having an epiphany. 

It hurt a bit. 

“Dopey,” he growled. “Did you… talk?” 

Dopey’s eyes went wide and he slowly nodded his head. His mouth opened but no words emerged, closing and reopening again in increasing confusion, his expression shifting to one of panic as he felt in his pockets for his notepad.

“Here.” Doc fished a piece of paper and a pen from his own pocket and handed them to his brother. Dopey took them with a grateful smile and wrote a single word. 

How? 

“I’ll tell you how,” said Grumpy. “The curse.” 

“The curse,” his brothers repeated, exchanging nods amongst themselves. 

The curse? wrote Dopey on his paper. 

“It’s broken, you idiots,” growled Grumpy. “THE CURSE IS BROKEN!” 

Comprehension dawned on the Merry Men’s faces as Grumpy’s words rang through the bar. They turned to each other in delight and began slapping backs and shaking hands once again. 

“Will Stutely, as I live and breathe!” cried Alan-a-Dale. 

His companion’s face broke into a wide grin. “Alan-a-Dale, well met indeed, my man! Has it been you all this time?” 

“It has!” said Alan, laughing and clapping his friend on the shoulder as they hugged, observing from the corner of his eye Will Scarlet almost lost in the bear-like embrace of Little John. “The devil’s own curse, this was. I wonder who cast it?” 

“Who else?” snarled Grumpy as he and the other dwarves approached. “The Evil Queen. She did it before and she’s done it again, and this time she’s not getting away with it.”

“What do you mean to do?” asked Little John. 

“We’re going to find our axes and do what we should’ve done the last time. Make certain the Queen can never hurt us again. Now, who’s with me?”

~

Regina was too distracted to notice the curse’s magic begin to shift and creak but she felt it shatter. She gasped as the razor shards of it prickled against her skin, jerking backwards and breaking her kiss with Robin. His arms were still tight around her, stopping her from stumbling, but his forehead wrinkled in confusion and she watched with her heart in her throat as he shook his head and blinked rapidly, and an expression of apprehension crept across his face. 

“Your Majesty,” he said cautiously. 

Regina refused to feel hurt, reminding herself that he probably thought she’d been under the curse as well and things hadn’t exactly been friendly between them in the Enchanted Forest. Of course he’d be concerned about her reaction to finding herself kissing him. 

“It’s still Regina to you,” she said softly. 

“Er—” his frown deepened. “Is it?” 

“Yes. Robin—” she reached up to touch his face and he flinched, his muscles tensing. Fear made her heart pound as she let her hand fall to his shoulder and groped for the best words to explain. “You were cursed.” 

“I remember. It was—wait, why do you say I was cursed? Weren’t you as well?”

“No.” 

“But you—er, we—” 

She nodded. “I had quite a lot of time to think this past year, with everyone else in town under the curse and with my son gone—” her voice broke and she paused for a moment to get hold of herself. “And I realised how much I regretted not being more… receptive to you in the Enchanted Forest.” 

“‘More receptive,’” he repeated. “That’s an interesting way to phrase it.” 

She felt herself flush. “I was a bitch,” she said flatly. “And I’m sorry.” 

His eyes widened at this blunt statement and then a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “Not a bitch,” he said. “Forceful. Determined. Prickly, perhaps.” His arms tightened around her, and her heart fluttered when she realised he’d never removed them. “Fascinating,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower.  

She caught her breath then slowly lifted her hand again and laid it flat against his cheek, stroking her fingers across his cheekbone when he didn’t flinch away. He leaned closer and her hand curled around the back of his neck as his lips claimed hers. 

Regina sighed into the kiss, shivering at the electric frisson down her spine as his hand slid up it and into her hair. Her arm wound around his shoulders and his tongue slipped into her mouth and then a cloud of white swirled up from the living room floor and Henry appeared. 

~

Emma took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on the door but before she could it swung open to reveal Snow and David, looking flushed and mussed and very surprised to find her standing there. 

“Um,” said Snow, blinking in confusion, and then joy broke across her face. “Emma!” she cried, throwing her arms around her daughter. “Oh, Emma!”

Tears welled in Emma’s eyes as she returned the hug and they rolled freely down David’s cheeks as he wrapped his arms around them both, cradling the back of Emma’s head in his hand in that fatherly way he had that always made her choke up a little. 

“I’ve missed you guys,” she said, sniffing and blinking rapidly. 

“We—well, we didn’t actually miss you, but oh, I wish we had,” cried Snow, hugging her harder, and Emma and David both chuckled though their tears. 

“Is it bad that I know exactly what she means?” David mused. 

They clung to each other for another minute, a sniffling mess of limbs, then Emma pulled back. “We need to go to Granny’s,” she informed them, wiping her eyes. 

“Yeah,” David agreed. “We had the same thought. That’s where people will congregate and they’re going to want reassurance. And honestly probably some vengeance. They let Regina go the last time but now—” 

“Regina didn’t cast the curse,” Emma interrupted. 

David and Snow exchanged confused looks. “Didn’t she?” David asked. 

“Don’t you remember?” 

“All I remember was that the curse came on so fast, almost out of nowhere,” said Snow. “And Regina had been working on finding a way to get back to Henry. I guess I just assumed.” 

“Mom, she was cursed as your maid. And Henry wasn’t even here. She was miserable. Do you really think she’d do that to herself?”

“Good point,” Snow conceded. “But if Regina didn’t cast the curse then who did?”

“Zelena,” replied Emma grimly.

“Zelena!” 

“Yep. Oh, and she’s the Wicked Witch of the West.” 

“The Wicked—” 

“But we don’t really have time to get into that now,” said Emma. “We need to get to Granny’s in case there’s another mob like when the last curse broke. We’ll need to give everyone that reassurance.” 

David nodded in agreement but Snow had clearly not been listening. “But Emma,” she said, “weren’t you cursed too? How do you know—” 

“Look, I promise I’ll tell you everything, but we kinda do have to hurry.” Emma tried to keep the impatience from her voice. “I can transport us with magic—” 

“You can?” 

“Mom!” 

“Sorry, I just—this is a lot to take in.” 

“Well, take it in at Granny’s. Can we go now?” 

Her parents nodded but before Emma could gather her magic, her phone buzzed with a text. A scowl darkened her face as she read it. “Change of plans,” she said, tucking the phone back into her pocket. “I’m sending you two to Granny’s now, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” 

“Where are you going?” David demanded. 

“To the sheriff’s station,” said Emma grimly. “And I’m going in hot.” 

~

White smoke swirled and dissipated, leaving Killan and Neal in the sheriff’s station, just around the corner from the main room and out of sight of the cells. Neal started to move forward but Killian held out his arm to stop him and gave a small shake of his head. He pulled a mirror from his pocket, the same half of a broken compact that he had used to signal his location at Zelena’s farmhouse to Regina. It was just a mirror now, as far as he knew, the enchantment on it lifted or possibly expired, but a mirror was all he needed. 

He flattened himself against the wall as close to the corner as he dared and carefully angled the mirror until it reflected the image of Zelena in her cell. She was reclining on the cot with her legs tucked beneath her, examining her fingernails. Everything else appeared normal.

Killian slowly released the breath he’d been holding and returned the mirror to his pocket. 

“Looks fine,” he whispered to Neal. “I’m going in.” 

“Wait.” Neal kept his voice low but the urgency in it was unmistakable. Killian turned to look at him, carefully holding on to his patience. 

“What?”

Neal shifted his feet, grimacing slightly. “Look, man, I—I need to know something before we go in there. If I’m gonna trust you to have my back I need to know.” 

“Know what?” 

“Why you married her.” 

“Neal—” 

“Yeah, yeah, now’s not the time, curse is broken, gotta save the town, I get it. We will. But I need to know why.” 

Killian sighed. The timing wasn’t great but he would prefer to have this conversation with Neal alone, with no David around to bluster or Snow to cluck. He reminded himself that Neal still didn’t know about the connection Killian and Emma shared, or what had happened between them over the past two years. Their last conversation had been in Granny’s, when Killian had promised to back off. Finding him married to Emma now must surely look to Neal like blatant betrayal of that promise. His anger, however inconvenient, was understandable. 

“Because I love her,” Killian replied. The simplest explanations were always the strongest, and there wasn’t time right now for nuance. “I love her and she loves me and we want to spend our lives together.”

Neal’s scowl softened and some of the tension left his shoulders. He gave a small nod. “Okay.” 

Killian nodded in return and together they moved towards the main room of the station. Just as they turned the corner a rush of magic struck them, with the strength of a storm surge on an angry sea. It flung them both off their feet and sent them flying backwards to land in an undignified heap in front of the door. 

Killian shook his head to clear the ringing from his ears then realised that it wasn’t ringing at all, but a shrill cackle proceeding from the direction of the cells. He ground his teeth, even as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, grabbed his phone from his pocket and thrust it at Neal. 

“Text Emma,” he snarled. “Tell her to get here right away. Then stay out of sight until she arrives.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Stall the bloody witch until Emma can deal with her. Now hurry!” He scrambled to his feet and rounded the corner again, pushing his way through air made thick by magic. It resisted him, no longer a storm surge but a fen, the magic clinging to his clothes and sucking at his feet as he fought his way forward towards the cell where Zelena was still lounging, her pose ostentatiously casual and her expression far too pleased for Killian’s liking. 

~

“Mom!” Henry cried, not seeing them at first. “Mom, you—whoa!” His eyes bugged comically and he clapped his hand over them. “Bloody hell!”

Regina leapt back, shoving at Robin’s shoulders until he released her and smoothing her hair. She knew she must be blushing furiously, and Robin’s amused expression only confirmed it. “Henry!” she exclaimed. “What—what are you doing here?” 

“The curse broke,” said Henry. He peered cautiously through the gap between his fingers then seeing them standing a good foot apart removed his hand. “My mom and dad—er, both my dads are gathering everyone at Granny’s to figure out what happens now,” he explained. “I said I’d come here to get you, but I wasn’t expecting—I mean, I knew you weren’t alone, but—I thought people kissed at the end of dates!” 

“They do, but… well…” Regina looked helplessly at Robin.

“But it’s not every day that a curse breaks in the middle of one,” concluded Robin smoothly, stepping forward and offering Henry his hand. “Hello, Henry, it’s good to meet you properly,” he said. “I’m—” 

“Robin Hood,” interjected Henry with a wide grin, shaking the proffered hand enthusiastically. “I know. That’s so cool.” 

Robin chuckled. “I’m pleased you think so,” he said, with a teasing glance at Regina. “Your mum was somewhat less impressed.” 

Regina rolled her eyes dramatically, but she couldn’t quite suppress her pleased smile. “What do you want from me?” she huffed. “I said I was sorry.”   

“So you did but I’m not sure I’m quite convinced—”

“Look, this is great,” said Henry, with a smirk and an eye-roll of his own. “I’m glad you guys are, you know, bantering or whatever, but the thing is we’ve got this curse that’s just broken, and—” 

‘The curse!” Regina’s smile evaporated as a thought struck her, and she snatched up the flowers Robin had brought, scowling as she examined them. 

“Um, yeah,” said Henry. “It is broken, right? Emma said—” 

“Yes, it’s broken.” Regina plucked one of the flowers from the vase and peered at it. “Shattered, actually.” 

“Shattered!” 

“Yes.” Regina shivered. “It was always unstable and with all the pressure you’ve been putting on it lately, bringing love back, it was only a matter of time before the cracks burst open. Which leaves us with a new problem. That curse was made with magic from several different realms, and now it’s loose in the air and sort of—fighting with itself. Can’t you feel it?” 

She looked up to find two pairs of concerned eyes on her. “I—maybe?” said Henry. “What does magic feel like?” 

“Different magics feel different but this is like… well, to me it feels like shards of glass but for you it would be more like pinpricks all over your skin.” 

“Shards of glass?” Robin exclaimed as Henry nodded. 

“Yeah. I think I feel it.” 

“As do I.” Robin put his arm around her, running his hand up her back. “Are you all right?” 

She smiled, more touched than she could express by his care. “I’m fine. But we have to get rid of this magic. Storybrooke isn’t big enough to hold it all, and the longer it stays here the more dangerous it will become.” 

“How do we get rid of magic?” asked Henry. 

 Regina looked again at the flower she held. “I think I might have an idea.” She looked up at Robin. “This flower,” she said. “Can you show me where you picked it? The exact spot?” 

He nodded. “Yes, I remember it perfectly. But it’s deep in the forest.” 

Carefully Regina probed at the magic swirling around her. Most of it had been loosed by the curse, far too sharp and dangerous to use, but there was enough of Emma’s light magic remaining in the loft for what she needed. “I can take us to the start of the footpath by magic, we’ll walk from there,” she said. “Henry—” 

“I’m coming too,” Henry interrupted firmly, already on his phone. “I’m texting Emma now, so she’ll know where we are.” 

“Good idea.” Regina looked again at Robin, who was watching her intently with a small smile on his face. Her belly gave a little flutter. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“I am.” He curled his hand around her shoulder as Henry tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Though I wish I had my bow. Unfortunately I’ve no notion of where it may be.” 

“Oh, hey, I do!” said Henry said brightly. “I saw it at the pawn shop!” 

“Do we have time to stop there and fetch it?” 

“No,” said Regina. “But Henry if you tell me exactly where it is, I can summon it as we transport.” 

“It’s in the back, hung on a mannequin in the far left corner.” 

Regina closed her eyes and did her best to envision the back room of the pawn shop. She gathered all the magic she could touch and wrapped it tight around the bow, and the three of them. “Okay,” she said. “Here we go.” 

~

“Well, hello, Captain,” Zelena purred as Killian struggled up to the bars of her cell. “What an interesting situation we find ourselves in.”

“Do we?” Killian kept his expression bland, carefully not revealing either the effort it took to hold himself upright against the crushing force of the magic in the room or the little details he observed, such as the fact that Zelena’s cell was still securely locked and the catlike smugness in her smile. 

“I’d say we do,” she replied. “You must have noticed that the curse is broken.” 

“Aye, that I did. The curse you told us we would never break. I suppose that is interesting.” 

Irritation flashed across Zelena’s features, just for a second but he was watching too closely to miss it. “Yes,” she said. “You’ve done me quite a favour, you and your wife.” 

“Have we? Things seem to have changed remarkably little for you.” 

Zelena’s smile slipped again, for longer this time. “Breaking the curse released all its magic,” she spat. “It’s free now and it’s everywhere. There’s no escape from it.” 

Killian fought to keep his own face from revealing anything. That was exactly what Emma had said. Its magic is everywhere. 

“And yet, you’re still in a cell,” he pointed out. 

Zelena snarled and he felt the air surge again. This time he was prepared for it, with his feet well-braced. It was rather like standing on the deck of a ship in reverse, he thought. On a ship the sea moved beneath him and here the air moved around him, but the rolling waves and the importance of keeping a wide stance with one’s feet firmly planted remained the same. Zelena’s lip curled in a snarl when he teetered but did not fall, and when the air ceased moving a moment later she fell back against the wall with a little huff. 

She can affect the magic, Killian thought, but she can’t properly use it and the effort tires her. That’s good to know.  

But where the devil was Emma? 

White smoke swirled up just behind him and Emma appeared as though his thoughts had conjured her, wearing the darkest scowl Killian had ever seen on her face. Another surge of magic waved outward from Zelena’s cell, quick as the lash of a whip and giving Emma no time to brace against it. She threw up her hands in a makeshift shield but she was not quite quick enough to block the whole wave and she stumbled backwards, just for a moment—before Killian even had time to react she had righted herself and spun about to face Zelena. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. 

“Whatever do you mean, dear?” asked Zelena, outwardly calm once again. 

“What are you trying to do with the curse magic?” Emma demanded. “How are you even touching it?” 

“It’s my magic,” Zelena hissed. “Did you really believe you could just cut me off from it?”

Something flashed in Emma’s eyes and her lips curled into a smile Killian recognised as highly dangerous. “There’s a thought,” she said. 

“Well you’ll have no time to think it,” sneered Zelena. 

A startled shout sounded from the hallway and Neal appeared, sliding on his back along the floor as a force invisible to Killian’s eyes dragged him by his ankle. Killian darted forward to help him but the moment his balance shifted he felt the magic in the air grab him, felt a crushing pressure on his chest as he was hauled backwards and slammed hard against the bars of Zelena’s cell. Dazed and winded from the impact, he drew a wheezing breath and shook his head to clear it, only vaguely aware as seconds later Neal was flung against the bars next to him, choking and gasping for air, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at his neck. 

When Killian’s vision cleared he looked up to see Emma charging towards him, fury snapping in her eyes as she used her own magic to push through the sucking resistance of the force that tried to hold her back. Their gazes met and Killian could read her intentions perfectly in her determined glare and the set of her jaw; he knew her far too well to think even for a second that she might do anything other than what she now intended. She meant to save him and damn the cost, but if she went for him first it would be too late. 

Which was precisely what Zelena was counting on. 

“No, Swan,” he gasped, ���Neal! Save Neal!” 

Zelena cackled. “You’ll have to choose, Saviour,” she spat. “You’ve no time to save both. But the moment you release me from your shielding spell, I’ll release them.”

Emma’s eyebrows drew together and she looked sharply at Neal, whose face had gone mottled purple as he struggled for air. As difficult as breathing was for Killian, it was plain to him that for Neal it was far more so. He was choking to death and had mere seconds left. 

“Protection… spell,” he ground out, trusting that Emma would understand.

She did. Relief washed over him as she nodded and shifted direction, heading instead for Neal. Zelena snarled and Killian could feel the force around him shifting, the pressure on his chest lessening. Zelena couldn’t maintain such a strong hold on to him while also keeping Emma away from Neal, he realised, and he could see the moment the same realisation struck Emma. With a furious shout she sent a burst of magic from her hands that burned clean through the curse magic, blazing an open path to Neal. 

Zelena gave a cackle, triumphant on its face but with desperation ringing through. “Careful, Saviour,” she hissed. “One wrong move and he dies!” 

Emma was frowning in concentration. She appeared to be feeling with her magic, Killian thought, probing at the force that was choking Neal in search of weaknesses. 

“You’re right,” she conceded, with what he considered to be remarkable calm. “I don’t know how you’re influencing the magic like this, but I can’t untangle it without killing him. This, though,” she held up her hand and the subtle knife appeared in a swirl of smoke upon its palm. “This can.” 

Zelena screeched in fury as Emma held the knife out with its sharp edge pointing downwards and with a single strong, controlled movement slashed through the air, severing nothing that Killian could see but Neal fell to the ground in a heap, clutching his chest as he sucked in huge gulps of air. In the same instant Killian realised that the pressure on his own chest was gone, that the air had shifted again, shoring up the space between Zelena and the door of her cell as Emma slowly turned to face her. 

~

Robin strode along the footpath through the forest, his pace brisk and his steps sure. His bow and quiver were slung across his shoulder and Regina had to admit, wanted to admit after having wasted far too much time already in denying it, that his whole ‘rugged outdoorsman’ thing really did it for her. She hadn’t felt such simple animal attraction to anyone since—she winced as a spear of something that felt uncomfortably like guilt lanced her heart—since Graham. 

She squirmed a bit before she could stop herself, and though neither Henry nor Robin was looking at her she adjusted her jacket and smoothed its lapels, wishing she could smooth away her conscience as easily. The thing was a damned nuisance, always pestering her with reminders of the terrible things she’d done, and all she had to atone for. It would keep doing that, according to Killian, until she’d made an effort to redress her wrongs. Regina grimaced. Graham was one of those wrongs, she knew, and she knew that there were consequences she would have to face—wanted to face, she reminded herself, she was genuinely tired of being a villain—for killing him. 

But not just yet. Right now there were more pressing matters that needed her attention. 

The path dipped, steeply and without warning, and the light through the trees shifted. It shimmered along the description of a downward curve, as if reflected off the edge of a blade, and when its arc was completed they found themselves standing in a wide clearing where the sunlight was dappled through shifting leaves and the ground a riot of colour. 

“This is it,” said Robin, gesturing. “This is where I picked the flowers I brought you.” 

Regina knelt and plucked a blossom from the ground, the twin of the one she had selected from Robin’s bouquet. “A mist lily,” she said, examining the trumpet-shaped head with its soft blue-grey petals, bobbing atop a slender stem. “I thought it was.” 

“What’s a mist lily?” asked Henry. 

“Just a flower.” Regina stood again and offered it to him. “It has no special properties, except that it only grows in the Enchanted Forest.” 

Henry’s eyes went wide. “The Enchanted Forest!” he exclaimed. 

Regina smiled. “Yes. This is the Enchanted Forest. Well, part of it anyway. I’m not sure exactly where.” 

The trees surrounding the clearing were densely set, tall and wide and with thick-leaved branches that formed a canopy above their heads. It was impossible to see beyond it. 

“At a guess, I’d say we’re at the northwest edge of your kingdom,” said Robin, frowning at the forest floor and then up at the sky. “Where it borders the ogres’ land. About, oh, two or so days’ trek from your castle.” 

Regina felt a flutter in her belly. “How can you possibly know that?” she demanded. 

“Mom, he’s Robin Hood!” 

“Indeed.” Robin’s smile edged into a smirk, one she would dearly love to kiss off his face. “I’m an excellent tracker, as you know, and the first rule of tracking is to know where you’re starting from.” 

“So cool,” breathed Henry. “Can you teach me how to do that?” 

“Of course, if you wish. Though I think before we attempt to track anything through this forest I’d like to know exactly how we got here.” 

“Ah,” said Regina with a smirk of her own. “That is the question. I believe…” she turned back to the path behind them and peered closely at the way the light hung in the air. “I believe this is a portal.” 

It was a thin, neat slice through nothing, no wider than the breadth of a hair and invisible at most angles. Approaching from the correct one, however, one could simply step through it, out of one world and into another. 

“But how?” Henry frowned as he circled it, poked his head through then pulled it back again. 

“Unless I’m very much mistaken,” replied Regina, “it was cut by the subtle knife.” 

“The knife Zelena had!” 

“The very one. This is how she got the curse magic from the Enchanted Forest and into Storybrooke. And,” she added, her lips curving into a triumphant, vicious smile, “it’s how we’re going to get it back out again.” 

~

Emma unlocked Zelena’s cell with a wave of her hand and stepped inside, still moving with some difficulty through the magic-thickened air, but more easily than before. Zelena was weakening, Killian thought. Pushing against Emma’s shielding spell to manipulate the curse magic was exhausting her. 

Emma halted a foot or two in front of the cot where Zelena still reclined. Her previously triumphant pose now much more closely resembled cowering, Killian remarked, despite her attempts at bravado.

“I wanted to give you a chance, you know,” said Emma. “A chance to change and redeem your mistakes. The same chance we offered Regina. The same chance everyone deserves, at least once.” Though she wasn’t looking at him, Killian felt her words powerfully, deep in his heart. 

“But,” Emma continued, “you refused that chance, again and again, and now it’s obvious that you can’t be trusted not to keep trying to harm us, even when you’re behind a shielding spell. There’s nothing I can do, no magic I can use that will keep my family safe from you. You’ve made it so my only option is to kill you, and that I won’t do.” 

“Because you’re weak,” snarled Zelena. “Too weak to do what’s necessary.” 

“The fact that you think that,” said Emma calmly, “is your weakness.” 

She raised the knife again and probed the air with it, feeling for something Killian could not perceive—but Zelena could. For the first time he saw genuine fear in her eyes as it began to dawn on her what Emma intended. 

“No!” she cried, leaping up off the cot. “No… you can’t! You wouldn’t! You wouldn’t!” 

An expression of grim determination settled on Emma’s face as she located what she had been seeking with the point of the knife. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish there was another way.” 

“No—” Zelena’s cry was cut off as Emma made another slashing motion with the knife, a single short downward thrust. Zelena gasped, a heartrending sound of pain and unspeakable loss, then collapsed onto the floor, her eyes gaping wide in shock and horror. 

The sucking resistance in the air was gone, Killian realised, replaced by buzzing noise that started low then grew perceptibly louder as the air itself began to vibrate. “Emma—” he began, but he was cut of by Zelena’s shriek of pure rage. 

“What have you done?” she howled. “What have you done? My magic… my magic—” 

There was sorrow in Emma’s eyes, and a deep compassion, but no remorse. “You’ll never touch your magic again,” she said. “I’ve cut your link to it forever. The subtle knife can cut anything, you know.” 

“You’ve ruined me! You bitch, you—” 

“I did what I had to do to keep the people I love safe from you,” snapped Emma. “You would never have stopped trying to hurt us. Now you can’t.” 

“Swan.” Killian reached cautiously into the cell, dizzy and discombobulated by the increasingly frantic vibrations that surrounded them. He slipped his hook around Emma’s arm, holding tight to the bars with his hand. “Love—what’s happened to the magic?” 

Emma allowed him to tug her out of the cell and closed and locked the door behind them. She turned to him and frowned. “What do you mean—oh.” Her eyes went wide and she gripped Killian’s arm. “Oh. Shit.” 

The buzzing was deafening now and the vibrations frantic, pinpricks of magic crackling and snapping around them with electric vigour. 

“You can feel that?” asked Emma. 

“Aye, I think even my organs can feel it.” 

“It’s like an army of chainsaws in my head,” groaned Neal, struggling to stand. Emma held out her hand to help him and Killian his hook, still keeping a tight hold on the bars of the cell to balance all three of them. “What is it?”

“It’s the curse magic,” Emma replied. “It’s sort of—untethered. But it’s been that way since the curse broke, I don’t know why it’s acting this way now.” 

As she spoke purple smoke swirled and Regina appeared, flanked by Henry and Robin. “I think I can answer that,” she said, turning to glare at her sister where she lay slumped on the floor of her cell. 

“Hah,” said Zelena, with an attempt at her old sneer. “I’d love to see you try.” 

“As would I,” said Killian. “Sooner rather than later, love, before we all turn to liquid.” 

Regina shifted her glare to him, then began to explain. “We already know that this curse is not like the last one,” she said, and Emma nodded. “Zelena patched it together out of a hodgepodge of different magics, some of which should never have met. That’s what made the curse so unstable. And now that all of that disparate magic is loose it’s clashing and reacting, and that’s what we—what all of us, I guess—can feel.” 

“So what are we going to do about it?” asked Emma. 

“Storybrooke is too small to hold all of it safely,” said Regina. “It’s stuck within the boundaries of the town and there’s just too much of it. We need to send it somewhere where it has room to disperse, and the different kinds of magic can repel away from each other. We need to send it back to the Enchanted Forest.” 

Killian scowled. “How the bloody hell do we manage that?”

Regina shot him another glare. “There’s a portal in the woods, one that Zelena must have used to cast the curse in the first place. One cut by the subtle knife.” She and Emma exchanged a significant glance. “Robin found it.” 

“Stumbled upon it, more like,” said Robin. 

“But what does that mean?” Killian pressed. 

“It means we have an outlet,” said Emma, and Regina nodded. “We can funnel the magic through that portal and out of Storybrooke.” 

“Exactly.” 

“But then, how do we close the portal? Oisín said only the knife bearer can do that, and—” 

“We’ll have to worry about that another time,” said Regina. “Once the magic is back in the Enchanted Forest it won’t be a danger to us anymore, and I can make a temporary patch to block the portal. It’s not a permanent solution but it’s the best we’ve got, and we have to move fast. The longer we wait the more dangerous the magic will become. We need to do this now.” 

“Okay,” said Emma. “You go back to this portal, then. I’ll gather the magic here and send it to you, and you funnel it out. Does that work?” 

Regina nodded. “It should.” 

“Um.” Emma frowned. “How do we—do you have something, like a signal or something to let me know where exactly you are?” 

“Take this.” Killian withdrew the broken compact mirror from his jacket pocket. “You still have the other half?” he asked Regina. 

“I do.” Regina took the mirror’s twin from her own pocket. “These should work perfectly.” She waved her hand over both mirrors. “I’ve modified the spell so they’ll act like beacons. Once you have the magic under control, press your thumb on this mirror—” she handed Killian’s half to Emma “—and my mirror will send up a signal to show you exactly where I am.” 

“Got it.” 

“Okay.” Regina flexed her fingers. “Are we ready?” 

���I’m coming with you.” They all turned to stare at Robin, who looked alarmed at the ferocity on their faces. 

“I don’t think there’s much you can do to help,” said Regina. 

“Perhaps not, but I’d prefer it if you weren’t alone,” he replied, and Regina’s expression softened to an almost girlish smile. Killian exchanged a glance with Emma, who just shook her head. Henry beamed. 

“All right,” said Emma. “Regina and er—” 

“Robin Hood.” 

“Right. Regina and Robin, um, Hood will go to the woods and make sure the magic gets through the portal. I’ll collect it and send it to them and the rest of you—” she glared at Neal and at Henry, and finally at Killian, narrowing her eyes. “The rest of you stay out of my way.” 

~

Flanked by his fellow dwarves and trailed by the Merry Men, Grumpy burst through the doors of the Rabbit Hole and headed down the street.

“We’ll go to Granny’s,” he said. “Gather a nice mob. Then we’ll hunt down the Evil Queen and this time she’ll get what’s coming to her.”

The dwarves chimed in a chorus of agreement but from the Merry Men it more resembled concerned muttering.

“A mob sounds like the wrong kind of justice,” said Little John. “Are you even sure it was the Queen?”

“Of course I am,” snarled Grumpy. “Who else would it be?”

“Well—”

“It was her,” Grumpy declared as they turned into Granny’s outdoor seating area. “It’s always her. Trust me.” 

The door to the diner swung open with a cheerful chime of its bell and Snow and Charming emerged, she with a wide, delighted smile and he with his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“It’s so good to see you all!” cried Snow.

“But you’re all going to need to turn around and go back home,” said Charming.

“Home?” growled Grumpy. “I don’t think so, Your Highness. We were cursed, again, and we’re going to make sure that this time is the last.”

“Oh we will make sure of that. But if your plan is to go after Regina I’m going to need you to rethink it. Regina didn’t cast this curse.”

“Ha,” said Little John, earning him a glare from the irate dwarf. 

“Well then who did?” he demanded. 

Charming’s expression was grim. “Zelena.”

“Zelena!” echoed Grumpy, as voices rose around him, dwarves and Merry Men all speaking at once. 

“What, the mayor?”

“Ex-mayor.”

“Why would she curse us?” 

“What does she get out of it?” 

“Who was she in our world, anyway?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember her.”

“She was the Wicked Witch of the West,” said Charming, raising his voice above the din.

“Like from Oz?” called Will Scarlet. 

“How do you know?” Grumpy demanded. 

“Emma told us,” said Snow, smiling proudly. “She figured it out.” 

“Oh yeah? And where’s Emma now?”

“Dealing with the witch, we hope,” said Charming with a scowl. “Look, why don’t you all come inside and we’ll tell you everything we know.”

~

The magic snapped through the air, almost snarling in its growing fury. Emma focused her attention on it, clearing her mind as she concentrated on it, on feeling it and reaching out to it. Its jagged shards sliced at her, and though she knew the pain she felt wasn’t physical that didn't stop her feeling it. The others felt it too, she reminded herself, less acutely than she did but it still hurt them. She needed to get this magic gone before it could cause any real damage. 

Closing her eyes, she stretched her senses as far as they could go, feeling for the magic as it spread through Storybrooke, catching it and gathering it together, weaving it securely into a shape that could easily be sent to Regina. It was not unlike trying to wrestle angry cats into a sack and though her attention was entirely focused on her task she was grateful for Killian’s calming presence, close beside her with his hand rubbing circles on her back. She reached out blindly and gripped his hook, clutching it to keep herself grounded as she pulled the last bits of the magic together. 

“Okay,” she gasped. “I’ve got it.” 

Killian handed her the mirror and she pressed her thumb against it. Seconds later it buzzed as the magic that linked it to its twin formed a connection. Not an especially strong one—a bit like two tin cans joined by a string—but strong enough tho show her where to send the magic. She pointed it in the right direction and then with a mental heave she flung it away, imagining the sack of angry cats sailing through the air towards Regina and becoming her problem. 

She could feel the moment Regina took control of the curse magic and when she was certain it was not going to get loose again she let it go, stumbling a bit at the release of her burden and leaning into Killian’s arms when he caught her. He hugged her tight and stroked her hair as she breathed a heavy sigh into his shoulder. 

“Is it done then, love?” he asked, his voice low in her ear. 

She nodded. “It’s up to Regina now.” 

~

Regina and Robin stood in Storybrooke’s woods, one on each side of the portal’s slender arc, waiting. 

Robin had his bow in hand, not fully drawn but with an arrow nocked and at the ready. A gust of wind rose up, sending leaves swirling around them and he tensed, his eyes sharp on the path before them.  

“You think arrows are going to help against magic?” sneered Regina, then immediately wished she hadn’t. The snarky attitude she wore like a cloak had become simple habit, born of anxiety and the need to appear strong, but she didn’t truly wish to be so nasty. Not to him.  

“I’m sorry,” she said, and suppressed a smirk at his look of surprise. “I’m worried, and that makes me snappish. But I shouldn’t take my feelings out on you.” 

“You have nothing to worry about,” he replied, with such earnestness she gaped at him. He smiled. “You forget I’ve seen your magic firsthand, Your Majesty,” he said. “I have no doubt you can perform this task with ease.” 

His simple faith in her despite the hesitancy and uncertain tension that still hung between them warmed Regina to her very depths and made her wish that she were better at feelings. “Robin, I—” she began, and then felt the mirror in her pocket grow hot. “I—I think it’s time.” 

She removed the mirror and pressed her thumb against it to answer Emma’s call. The mirror buzzed faintly in her hand as it linked with its counterpart and a moment later Regina saw the curse magic winding its way towards them from the direction of Storybrooke, woven into a tight and impressively tidy rope. Oisín had clearly met with more success in teaching Emma how to use magic than she herself had, Regina thought. 

She reached out with her own magic, stable tendrils of it pulled through the portal from the Enchanted Forest, and took control of the rope. There was a moment of tension when both she and Emma held it at once, then Emma released her end and Regina stumbled at the abrupt shift. Instantly Robin was there, catching her before she could fall and keeping a steady hand on her arm as she wrestled the snapping and writhing magic through the portal. 

As soon as the tail end of the rope had gone she released it from her hold and followed it, slipping cautiously through the narrow opening with Robin keeping a secure grip on her had from the other side, and watched anxiously to see how the magic would react to its new surroundings. For the space of several heartbeats nothing happened, but then slowly, almost cautiously, the rope began to unravel. It uncoiled itself, picking up speed when it met with no resistance, spreading out as far as it could, all the disparate magics skittering away from each other and dissipating into the atmosphere. 

Regina exhaled in relief then drew a deep breath, full of the familiar scents of her homeland, and felt a tiny twinge of melancholy. Someday she should probably go back to the Enchanted Forest again, she thought, to fix the ravages her curse—and likely now Zelena’s curse—had wrought upon it. But not today. 

She stepped back through the portal and wove a protection spell around it, to prevent anyone from stumbling through it by accident as Robin had. 

If it had truly been an accident. Regina had some theories on that subject. 

She turned to Robin, who was smiling softly. “Well done,” he said. “I knew you could do it.” 

She felt herself flush under his praise. “I had help,” she replied with a small shrug, surprised to realise that the modesty was genuine. She would never have managed to defeat Zelena or break the curse all on her own. Without Emma and Henry, and perhaps most of all Killian—she would have been trapped forever in the special hell her sister had made for her. More surprising still was the realisation that working with them had been... nice. Nice to have people on her side, sharing her burdens, nice not to have to handle everything alone. Nice to have friends.   

She shook her head at the foolish thought. They were far from calling each other friends, she and Emma and Killian—it was a long path to friendship from ‘reluctant allies,’ after all—and yet Regina had a stirring of a suspicion, a tiny fragile bud of a feeling, that someday this might actually become a reality. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a real friend. 

“Speaking of which, we should get back to the station and make sure they’re all okay,” she said, taking up her magic again. “Are you ready?” 

Robin nodded. “Always.” 

~

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