#aragorn fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

Little One || Aragorn

Summary: Request -I had an Aragorn request that I wanted to send you; if it’s something you’d be interested in writing I know it’ll be perfect (but if it doesn’t strike your fancy I completely understand)!! After reading your fic with the orc attack I was thinking about how Aragorn would respond to reader being injured defending the hobbits... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !! Had so much fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) Kinda angsty but hella fluffy as always :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: orcs, talks of blood, arrows, getting shot, yelling, angsty

You and Strider had been Rangers together for the better part of fifty years now. The two of you quickly found solace in the other. The two of you just seemed to compliment the other. What he lacked you picked up for him and vice versa. It wasn’t often he could find somebody who just understood him. So, he decided to keep you close but always safe.

He did what he wanted after all. He had a high enough ranking quickly. You were assigned nearly every patrol, raid, quest whatever the hell it was he did it with you. And you learned quicker than you had ever thought even possible with his aid. He wasn’t brutal on you, but he was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. He wanted you alive, so he trained you to stay that way. He had to be a little mean. A little too much sometime. For that was the real world. You couldn’t go out in the world as freely as one once could.

So, when Gandalf proposed the deal of getting the Hobbits from Bree to Rivendell he had agreed on the condition you could come with them. He wasn’t willing to leave you in some random village town in Eriador. No, he would never do that. Gandalf had agreed without a second thought thinking it was a good idea to have two Rangers instead of one.

You had decided fairly quickly that the Nazgûl was on your list of least favorite things in middle-earth you’d had the pleasure of coming across. You could deal with spiders and orcs buts these creatures were eerily different. Ice cold and terrifying, soul sucking. But you needed to remain stoic in the face of it all to help the Hobbits. The poor things were shaking they were so terrified. You’d tried stories of tales far and wide to shake their minds of their troubles, but it seemed no use as they only looked to the two of you in terror around every twist and turn.

When you stopped for the night to camp you’d noticed that Strider had led you deep into a dense forest. You’d never been the best at tracking, so you often led it to him. You really should’ve paid better attention before as you were often so reliant on his talents.

“I am off to gather a few plants for some tea. I will be back in an hour. Y/N, I trust they shall remain safe in your care?” He asked and you nodded without so much as a second thought.

“Of course.” You smiled to him, “Off you go. I know how mean you get without your tea.” That earned a hearty round of laughs from the Hobbit’s as they laid out their bedrolls for the night. It was nice to hear such a pleasant sound instead of hearing the screeching in the distance.

“I will remember that.” He glared at you with humor in his eyes before ducking into the night.

You turned back to the Hobbit’s with a stupid smile on your face not quite realizing how much you were giving way of your likeness towards the man, “Off to bed we go.” You shooed the silly little smirks right off their faces.

They all nodded quickly falling asleep without so much as a second thought. You were mighty jealous at the way they just did that. It took you far too long to fall asleep these days. Worry kept you up more than you liked to admit.

Thank whatever was out there for that worry that wouldn’t let you sleep as you heard the distant voices and branches breaking far off in the distance. Orcs. Had to be, they were so noisy. Your heartrate spiked as you heard them before you spotted them in the dark night. How in the hell had anything found you all the way out here?

“Up! Up!” You whisper shouted before shaking each of the Hobbits awake, “Abandon the camp we must go. Run” You grabbed for your sword and spare bow and arrow before ushering the small Hobbit’s further into the forest.

They ran ahead confused and disoriented having just fallen into a deep sleep but trusting you nonetheless. You knew you had made too much noise but did not quite realize how much the smaller ones were making as they ran.

You paused for a brief moment knowing your longer strides could catch up. You took a look behind you to see how in danger you truly were. The orcs hadn’t spotted your little group quite yet except one with keen eyes. Adrenaline shot through you as you saw the orcs arrow trained right at the back of Frodo’s head as he ran forward. He’d be dead instantly if the orc shot the arrow before you could stop it.

Panic shot through you as you ran ahead beside him pushing him to the ground with more force than you’d truly meant. You’d thought you were in the clear before the searing pain of being shot by an orc arrow throbbed through your shoulder blade sending you to the ground before you could think. Frodo rolled beside you which sprung Merry, Pippin and Sam into action as they pulled the two of you behind the thick trees of the dense forest. Fortunately for you it was mid-summer, and the forest was coated in dense foliage making it that much harder to find you and the Hobbits hiding in the trees.

Frodo looked more confused than upset before he saw the arrow protruding from your body. He’d understood instantly, “You have been hit miss Y/N!” Merry’s concerned voice only rose a few octaves as he saw the large arrow sticking right outside your shoulder. It hurt worse than it looked but you tried your best to bite back the tears as they were so unseasoned to such horrors in the world.

You looked down wincing at the arrow surely coated in poison. Thankfully you were only a few days out from Rivendell. You’d be fine… Strider not so much. Shuddering at the thought of the man who would be so mad you got hurt, you turned to the small Hobbit’s sitting in fear beside you.

Ignoring the arrow sticking out from your shoulder you sat up from the fall you took, “Listen, for there is not much time before they try and find us. Frodo and Sam run. Go find Strider. He will help end this swiftly.” You nodded watching them run quickly off into the forest. You’d sent Frodo off as he needed to be as far from the attacks as possible.

Wincing you turned yourself as best as you could towards Merry and Pippin, “Now, I need you two to be brave. You must snap this arrow as close to the wound as you can. I will fight these orcs off, but I cannot do that with this sticking out.” You huffed eyeing the rather large wooden arrow searing its mark in your shoulder blade.

Merry only gave you wide eyes as Pippin shook his head answering your request, “I cannot do that.”

“Not can I!” Merry agreed.

You looked behind you a little panicked seeing the orcs moving in closer. Far too close for your comfort. Lowering your voice, you leaned closer to them, “It does not matter any longer. Time is of the essence now. You must or we all die.” You glared at the two of them letting them both know quite how serious this was.

“Aye, turn away.” Merry stood with shaking hands grabbing at the arrow earning a hiss from your mouth. Pippin took his hands in his helping him get the leverage he needed to break the thick wood.

“All right.” You turned your head away clutching your hands into the earth trying to ground yourself. You had to fight back everything that was telling you to pass out as the arrow snapped in two under the hands of the much smaller Hobbits. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried your hardest to stay conscious. The orcs were close. You had to do something.

“Miss Y/N” Merry sounded concerned as he saw your face pale out and the orcs move closer, “Please be okay.”

You nodded blinking back the wave of nausea taking over your usually so agile self. This did not feel like your standard orc poison. You knew what that felt like and this was not it. This was moving faster than anything you’d been hit by them with, “I am fine mister Pippin.” You breathed trying to blink back the unshed tears. Pain only reminded you that you were alive. With another small groan you stood from the ground trying your hardest to fight the searing fire in your shoulder, “Stay quiet and hidden. It is best to attack them by surprise. Strider will be back soon. Let us try and wait this out as long as possible.” You whispered grabbing your sword from its sheath at your side.

You waited in silence as the first of the few crept into your field of vision. They must have been lost. No way a pack of orcs were this dumb. Or they were on a special mission. But you could wait no longer as they were likely to hear your breath or any sort of movement for he was a mere step away from you now.

Quickly, you sliced off its head without much of a sound. The loudness of the animals in the night covered up for its lifeless body hitting the ground giving you a second to recuperate and fight back the overwhelming feeling of pain now making its way down your arm.

When you killed the second and third the attention was finally on you. You were not able to be as graceful and let out a cry of pain as you had to use your bum arm to defend yourself. Darting behind a tree you narrowly avoided another arrow coming right for your head this time. But you didn’t have time to panic as the man you had been waiting for finally made his grand entrance. Just as you suspected it was over before it really begun. You were a fine Ranger. But Strider was an expert one.

Leaning back on the tree you let out the breath you were holding in. Never had you been so close to losing someone so quickly on a quest. Never had you been so close to being eliminated. You were usually so much better than this. Strider was getting in your head, and you were losing focus. A Ranger losing focus! That was unheard of. But Strider was your exception it seemed.

“You arrogant fool!” Strider yelled right at you as he came storming over to where you were leaning on the tree. He hadn’t seen the broken arrow in your shoulder nor the way you were holding your arm upright. He didn’t notice the sweat the coated your face or the distant gaze in your eyes. He was mad and he wanted to take it out on someone. That someone happened to be you.

You let out a cry in pain as he grabbed for the arm that you were holding gingerly. Even the smallest movement made it feel like your arm was getting ripped right apart. You had forgotten how painful poison was for it had been nearly fifty years since you’d been struck. The bastards made it as fast and as painful as possible. And whatever this stuff was seemed worse than before.

He moved his hand away from your arm after hearing your strangled cry. Pushing you back up against the tree, avoiding your injury, he felt the sticky liquid coating your outer garments. Blood. Of course, he knew what it was. He had only begun to panic as he saw the deliriousness in your gaze. You were hurt and badly at that. He was not used to this.

Frodo jumped in between the two of you, pushing Strider away just slightly, “She saved my life master Strider! Please have no anger towards her.”

His heart raced as he ordered the Hobbits to light a fire nodding at Frodo that he was done lashing out at you. He knew you needed a helping hand. Not one to hurt you while you were down. Gently, he pushed you down to the ground, “Sit down, nigol.” He’d all but ordered as he helped the Hobbit’s start a small fire. He couldn’t see your wound and you weren’t so forthcoming with information. That and he wanted to see it for himself.

A small smile came to your lips remembering the old nickname he’d given you, “Nigol… you have not called me that in quite some time Strider.”

Brushing your comment aside he asked you, “What happened?” As he sat down next to you waiting for the fire to glow so he could inspect your wound.

You turned towards him holding your eyebrows close together trying your best to bite back the pain, “Orcs happened is all. Caught a poisoned arrow to the shoulder.” Letting out a strangled sigh you sat further back against the tree.

“How did you get hit?” He clarified with more patience in his voice than you were used to. Maybe you looked worse than you felt because he never, ever cut you a break. And you appreciated him for that as you were still alive and usually avoidant of such injuries.

“Ugly bastard was aiming right at Frodo’s small little Hobbit head.” You frowned realizing if you hadn’t noticed Frodo would be sure as dead. You caught Strider’s smile at your crass language for he knew he would never grow tired of your fowl tongue. He loved it about you, “Had to push him out of the way and he nicked me instead.”

“I heard that miss Y/N!” Frodo yelled back at the two of you shaking his head at you, “Elves are not the only creatures with good hearing!” You only smiled as you watched them feed the small fire with more twigs and sticks. It surprised you that Strider ordered a fire for you’d just been ambushed. Who knew what else lurked beyond the trees that kept you hidden.

You let out a strangled laugh feeling the effects of the poison inch its way through your system. You watched as Strider looked at you with concern. It wasn’t often you were the one on the receiving end to such a look. You’d been under his wing for a better part of half a century. You’d gotten really excellent at not getting hurt. It must have been jarring to see you fighting the pain back with such a force. He’d never admit how much he had grown to love you. He didn’t like to see you in pain. Not a bit.

He sighed seeing the fleshy wound, “You must not be so careless next. I have trained you better than that.” He sighed inspecting the wound closely, “I must remove the arrow.” He spoke slowly feeling his heart drop at your startled expression.

You shook your head with a vengeance for you did not like that statement “We are but a few days from Rivendell. Surely they will have healers who can do that properly.”

He bit back the frown as he looked at your arm, “You will not have a few days if I do not get this out.” It wasn’t ominous but simply the truth.

“Is it not an Orc arrow?” You looked down knowing what his answer was going to be but trying to ignore it in your head was proving to be a challenge.

He gave you a solemn nod, “Aye, but it does not appear to be orc poison.”

All you could muster was a simple, “Oh.” Not thinking that was a possibility. You’d still concluded it was a different form of Orc poison. What could they possibly be using?

“It appears to be something much darker.” His frown only deepened as he was studying your wound. He had ripped your shirt where you had been hit to examine it closer. It was turning black far too fast to be the standard orc poison they’d become accustomed to.

You shuddered knowing the pain would be intolerable. You already seemed to be teetering on the precipice between the living world and the unconscious world, “Do your worst then.” You spoke quickly turning away and grabbing at a stick on the ground. When you tuned back he was just looking at you with such a sadness you couldn’t help but to ask, “What?”

He shook his head breaking the stare he had on you, “Nothing. Bite the stick. Don’t fight me. You know the rules.”. It had been a long time since you were at the mercy of his hands. You were but a young Ranger the last time you’d been caught in such a dreadful position. Back then you had medicine to at least dull the pain. This was going to be hell you thought as you placed the soggy stick in your mouth. Something to bite into, crucial to keep you from yelling too loud.

But you didn’t need to worry about that issue too much as darkness took over only a moment after he begun to tug on the broken arrow embedded in your shoulder. Of course, you didn’t catch the concern or the panic that overtook him when he saw you collapse into unconsciousness so easily. He didn’t waste a second longer after the arrow was removed from your shoulder to pick you up and carry you in his arms telling the Hobbits that they had to get a move on for your sake. With hushed complaints the group was off to Rivendell in the dead of night.

It must’ve been the pain overtaking the adrenaline that had subsided that made you fade out of unconsciousness. As your body stirred awake the sun rose in the sky before you. Strider only cradled you closer to his chest when he felt you squirming beneath him. A rather large sigh of relief escaped him as he looked down seeing you slowly blink your eyes back into reality.

“Did you enjoy your rest then?” Strider smiled most genuinely down to you for as much as he loved teasing you it sure made him happy to see you awake once more.

You cracked your own smile at his sarcastic words, “It was nice, thank you for inquiring.” You hummed squirming once more in his embrace. When he locked his hands around you it was only then that you realized he was carrying you like so and he had no intention of letting you out of his grasp.

He chucked seeing your startled expression. It was also new to him too and he really did not want to admit just how much he had enjoyed holding you close to him. It put his normally anxious heart at ease. He had long since found you beautiful. He knew he had loved you when he first heard you speak your mind to a superior all those years ago. For nobody, not a single man, had the courage to speak the way you did. And you had the skill to back it up. That was why he panicked seeing your injured silhouette in the forest. For if you were to go down he had no idea what he would do. You were so deeply embedded in his life he could not even begin to fathom a life without you in it.

He ran faster than he ever had before when Sam and Frodo found him foraging for plants. When they came in blabbering that you had been hit by an arrow he began sprinting in autopilot. It drove him mad feeling like it took longer to get to you. He was there in no longer than a minute to kill the ten or so orcs that were hunting you, the one he loved. He was a maniac when it came to protecting you. He hadn’t meant to yell so harshly at you but he was scared. Terrified of the thought of losing you, his person.

He noticed the pink beginning to return to your face and more relief flooded his overstressed system, “You are getting some color back.” He noticed as he held you closer, “That is a good sign. The poison must not be spreading.”

You let out a long yawn feeling the effects of it all starting to come over you once more, “That is good. It does not hurt as bad either. Just aches a bit.” Your eyes drooped as you tried to fight off the sleep that was overcoming you.

“Rest. Go to sleep, nigol.” He smiled down to you with nothing but love in those striking eyes. He’d been carrying you for hours already, what was another few anyway?

“Nigol.” You hummed remembering the times he called you that all the way back when you first had met him. He refused to tell you what it meant and by the time you finally met an elf you’d forgotten the nickname altogether, “What does it mean?” You inquired hoping he would indulge you this time as you were on the verge of unconsciousness.

He laughed, throwing his head back and all. You admired the way his dark hair framed his fair face as he looked back down at you. He was truly so handsome. It wasn’t fair he was placed in front of you like this and yet, was so unattainable, “I did not tell you fifty years ago, why would I tell you now?”

“I thought I would try.” You sighed, “Does it mean something bad? You only use it when I mess up.” You asked him once you concluded the worst. He often used that nickname early on when you two had been partnered up. It’s use seemed to fade as you had gotten more competent. Yet now when you had a bum shoulder rendering you useless he used it once more.

He shook his head quickly, “It is not bad. I can promise you that.” He eased your worried face quickly with his words.

“Well, I suppose I can accept that.” You didn’t want to push feeling oddly unlike yourself in his arms. Usually combative and wanting to pick a friendly fight you felt like doing anything but that. You just wanted to enjoy yourself in his embrace as you knew this moment would likely never occur again.

He knew you better than anybody else. He noticed how shy you were suddenly acting. Was it the nickname? Were you tired? Was the poison moving faster than he could? He looked down seeing you continue to fight sleep. Usually so powerful you looked helpless in his arms. His eyes softened as he realized how much trust you had to have in him to relax into him like so. You were always on guard, always ready. Frodo was alive because of that instinct. But now you were at his will and he felt more responsible for you than he had ever before.

“It’s Sindarin.” He admitted wanting to give you something more as you had given him exactly what he wanted, you.

Feeling your eyes getting heavier you replied with tiredness in your voice, “I had concluded that Strider. You did tell me you were raised by elves, remember?” Lazily, you smiled up to him laughing as best as your body would allow you.

“It is Sindarin for little one.” He finally admitted to you, “Or mouse.” He looked down at you nervously hoping you’d have a decent reaction to it.

“Mouse? Little one? I should be offended.” You grinned not taking offense in the slightest for you found it oddly adorable he had given you such a sweet nickname.

“Do not take offense.” He spoke quickly, “I did not mean it that way.”

“Relax, Strider.” You yawned once more feeling your head rest of his chest heavily. Sleep was coming on quick, “I am just teasing you. You are so easy to mess with.”

“Sleep now, little one.” He gave you another gentle squeeze letting you know he had you. It was alright. You could trust him as always. And trust him you did as you found yourself in a quick sleep right back in his arms.

“There you are.” Strider’s voice pulled you from the sleep that had overcome you on the road. When you blinked you were stunned to be laying in front of a fireplace in a rather grandeur room. You must have made it all the way to Rivendell which meant you had been out for days at this point.

“Are we in Rivendell?” You tried to sit up before his hands pushed you back down, gently, into the plush elven bed.

“You must lie still.” He ordered before answering your question, “Yes. You have been unconscious for nearly four days. Lord Elrond was unsure if you were to make it.” His eyes were laced with something you had hardly seen on the man in your many years of knowing him, fear. He looked scared, terrified. Yet almost relieved seeing you awake.

“Four days?” You swallowed back your surprise.

He gave you a quick not, “Almost, you even have Lord Elrond worried.”

You sighed, “I did not mean to do that.”

He moved closer, sitting on your bedside. Taking his chance he brushed your stray hair away from your face, “You always do that.”

You just looked up at him, “What?”

“It is just that you always care for others before yourself. As much as I love that about you. Think about yourself for once. Care for yourself. You are far too kind.” He spilled his thoughts to you for he was too tired. Too scared at the thought of losing you he was not going to hold back his tongue anymore for he knew he loved you. He wanted you. He couldn’t see you with anyone else but him.

You blinked back surprise at his outright confession. Sure, the two of you had danced around any feelings for quite literally years. But you would have none of that, as sweet as it was, “You did not say that when I slayed half an orc army with you.” You spoke with a hint of playfulness in your tone. It was your favorite game to play with the man.

He laughed a full hearty laugh. A laugh so pure, one you’d heard so rarely from the man. He only laughed like that when he was at peace. Happy. Comfortable and relaxed. A sight that you could really get used to.

“For that is true.” His eyes searched your for any sign of pain. Any sign that something was wrong. He could not quite believe you were finally awake and chatting with him like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been knocked out cold for that long. When Lord Elrond had started to get nervous. Strider was not dumb. He grew up with Elves and knew their tells. When an elf grew worried he knew things were not boding well.

You felt yourself shrinking under his gaze, “What? Is there something on my face? Because that would be embarrassing. I have been asleep for three days and you let something stay on my face for that long?” You rambled not quite sure what you were doing. He was making you nervous. Strider never made you nervous. But when he gave you that earnest look you completely lost yourself to him. How fickle your brain was behaving.

He bit back a laugh sensing your nerves, “No. There is nothing marking your face. I was simply admiring you was all.”

Was he trying to kill you? Your cheeks were sure to be a bright rosy, red for his second confession was bolder than his first, “Admiring me?”

“Indeed. I would not be the man that I am had you not been by me all these years. I thought I was going to lose you. But now that you are back I get to admire you.” He spoke with that soft voice he only used ever so often. It was fascinating to get to know an entirely different side of the man you thought you knew through and through.

“I deserve no such thing.” You laughed trying to shake off the seriousness of his gaze down on you. He did not find your statement the least bit humorous.

“While I do not agree I also do not wish to argue. How do you feel?” He changed the subject even though he might have enjoyed watching you squirm. Placing a cool hand on your forehead, he did not miss the small jump you had in response to his contact. Touches he had given you so often before had changed. Things had shifted between the two of you and for the first time in a long time he was excited. He had a purpose. His purpose.

You gulped back your argument and nodded in agreement, “I feel fine, will you let me sit up now or must I stare up all afternoon?” You quipped hoping your quick mouth would let him know just how fine you really felt.

Shaking his head, he held out a hand for your to take, “You may sit up, but take it slow.”

“I was shot by an arrow Strider. I did not get my legs cut off.” You took his hand letting him pull you up to sit next to him.

He rolled his eyes yet still held admiration in them, “That mouth will get you in trouble one day.” His eyes traced your face as you too just looked at him. It didn’t feel quite real that he could have admired you just as you him. Had you been blind?

You hummed in agreement not being able to take your eyes off his, “Not if you are there to protect me.”

It was he who broke the staring game going on between the two of you as he collected his thoughts, “Indeed, little one. There is nothing truer than that statement.” Gaining some courage, he took your hands in his giving them a gentle squeeze, “Please never scare me like that again for I cannot bear it.”

“I will try my hardest, as long as you promise to do the same.” You nodded towards him feeling bashful in front of the man you’d grown to love. The man you had only hoped to love you as he did. The man you never could have imagined felt the same. Yet here you were.

Giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, he simply nodded to you, “I promise, little one. I promise with my whole heart.”

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

988 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Flower Crown

Aragorn x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, kissing, non-descriptive intimacy

Word Count: 2k

During a spring festival, the man you love returns unexpectedly.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

The sky is a cloudless, endless ocean above your head.

You breathe deep, savoring the scents in the air. Newly bloomed flowers, freshly baked bread, and roasting chicken all infiltrate your nostrils, reminding of you the celebration that’s about to begin. Anticipation buzzes under your skin like a swarm of startled bees. You’ve been waiting for this all winter. Spring is finally here, knocking, ready to be greeted. The flowers are in full bloom, and the trees have awakened from their solemn slumber.

Every year the small village in which you’ve lived your whole life celebrates the changing of the seasons. A community-wide festival is held. Each person is involved in their own way, and the duties are often assigned at the beginning of winter to allow everyone to prepare. Sometimes, these responsibilities shift, but a few remain the same.

Last year, you attended the baker in their duties to provide baked goods. This year, you were tasked with sewing new dresses for all the unmarried young women. The base fabric, an off-white cotton, remains the same. It’s like a blank page awaiting colorful paint or black ink, each dress ready to be designed with every young woman in mind. You, and several of the married women, take great care in personalizing each dress to the young ladies’ personalities.

It is not by chance that this happens. It is more than tradition. Rebirth and renewal are the themes of the festival, and with that comes an influx of weddings. The dresses are for that very reason, as a form of matchmaking, along with the presented flower crowns and the festival itself. You’ve always thought it silly but never truly commented on the matter. Fortunately, with you on sewing duties, you were able to work on your own dress.

With the dresses come flower crowns. They are given to the young women by unmarried men of the village. It is always the married women and village elders who quietly determine which man will gift what crown to who. They’re intuition is almost always correct. It is rare for a pair to not eventually marry. Sometimes it is quick, and sometimes it is years later before either realizes they belong together.

And the flower crowns are the true beauty. Another group handmakes each one. But because you know how intricate they are, you did nothing for your dress. It is simple. Plain. Just because you’re forced to be part of this tradition doesn’t mean you want to try and find a husband. You’re perfectly fine alone, because the man you do want is far away.

He isn’t avoiding you. Not on purpose. Aragorn is a ranger. He thrives in the wilds, seeking out the darkness to rid it from the world. But you do miss your wanderer. He tries to travel through your area as often as he can just to see you.

Over the years, the friendliness has grown, becoming heat and tension.

None of the other men in the village make you feel the way he does, and they likely never will.

In the shade of a tree, you smooth out the front of your dress. The tips of your fingers itch and you need to move them just to calm yourself. That alone is silly. What do you have to be nervous for? The process is always the same, always consistent, so why do you feel like this?

The young, unmarried women begin to congregate near the arch of flowers. Breathing deep, you march forward, finding your spot where it always is. You can taste the eagerness in the air. The women around you are just as nervous, nearly bouncing on their toes. They whisper to each other, giggling, but none of them glance your way or address you.

All day, and not even one has thanked you for your work.

But you won’t let it eat away at your resolve. Today is a good day. You’ll drink berry wine and gorge yourself on delicious food while listening to the married women gossip about their husbands.

As the village elders arrive, all talking ceases. That is the cue, and just like the women in line, you curtesy. You’re not allowed to look up, to glance into the face of the man who will place a crown upon your head. You keep your head bent and gaze on the ground.

There is shuffling, the rustling of hands lifting crowns. You focus on the green grass beneath your feet. You’re the only one up here not wearing shoes. You breathe in, and out, watching as so many pairs of polished boots pass by.

When someone does stop before you, the boots are not clean. They are muddy and have seen travel. You almost want to laugh but really, you’re curious. Who is this? Who would be so bold to come to the crowning with filthy boots?

In the next moment, the crown is placed upon your head. You don’t move. Don’t breathe. The stranger’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, pressing gently. You respond. You can’t resist. It is natural to do so.

Your gaze takes in this stranger as your head lifts. And when you see his face, you realize that this is no stranger at all.

“Aragorn,” you whisper, and his response is a smile.

There is applause, and good-natured cheering all around, and yet you respond to none of it. It is only him, this man you’ve been missing, standing before you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask just as the music starts up. It’s too early. Aragorn often arrives in the fall when the leaves start to change.

Others are already wandering off together or going their separate ways. You’re left staring, happy to see him but not understanding why.

“To see you,” he replies.

To see you. To see you. Whatever nervousness you felt before is gone, replaced with a giddiness that sends heat right to your cheeks.

When you don’t reply immediately, Aragorn frowns. “Have I upset you?”

“No!” You reach for him, grabbing his upper arm, taking a step forward. “Not at all. I’m just…surprised.”

His gaze softens, and you could fall into his depths. “Didn’t think I’d come?”

“You always visit when the weather begins to cool.”

“I do,” he agrees. “Couldn’t stay away.” Aragorn says this almost absently as his fingers toy with a white ribbon on your dress.

A young woman shrieks with delight, and you and Aragorn both turn as she’s hoisted in the air.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks.

The answer is immediate. “Yes.”

He presents his hand, and you take it. His palm is warm. Strong. Aragorn leads, and then you’re moving, matching the correct steps. It’s not an intense dance but it isn’t slow either.

“Did you just arrive?”

He smiles. “As they were distributing the flowers.”

“Is that why you’re so dirty?” Aragorn laughs as you lean in and sniff, making an exaggerated expression. “And smelly?”

“I thought you liked the way I smelled after a ride.” Aragorn wraps his arm around your waist, turning as he does so.

“A ride,” you correct. “Not a journey.”

The music swells, dips, and then increases in pace. You’re left focusing on your feet, going through the motions. But Aragorn knows what he’s doing, and he leads you through it effortlessly. It’s difficult to speak, but his hands do enough talking. Aragorn’s touch lingers. He might squeeze slightly or allow his hand to wander. It stirs something hot in your belly that travels lower until you’re blazing everywhere.

When the music comes to an end, and the two of you are out of breath, Aragorn places his hand on your lower waist and guides you away.

“Something to drink?”

“Please.”

Berry wine is had before Aragorn takes your hand again, the two of you strolling off into the nearby orchard. Between the trees, there is privacy, the two of you walking in gentle silence. It’s just your hand in his and the warm breeze that stirs up your dress.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say, stopping next to an apple tree. There are leaves on its branches but no blooms.

Aragorn comes to a stop beside you, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder. “Glad? That is all you feel?” With a soft touch, Aragorn turns your head in his direction. His head is angled downward, and there is no escaping what you see in his eyes.

There are times when the two of you have found a bit of quiet, some peace only with the need to explore the other. As you gaze upon his face, you are entirely aware of what he wants, but Aragorn is an honorable man. He will not push or insist on more unless you’re the one who seeks it out.

The berry wine is warm in your blood. Aragorn’s nearness is just as intoxicating. His fingers play with that same ribbon, and you lean into his touch until your noses brush lightly against each other.

“There is plenty I feel,” you reply, your voice a whisper amongst the birdsong and breeze.

“Is your heart willing to share?” Aragorn tugs lightly on the ribbon, loosening a portion of the bodice.

“Is yours willing to hear the truth?” you counter, knowing that you’d give him anything in this moment.

Aragorn tugs on the ribbon again, loosening the bodice further. Air rushes into your lungs as your chest receives a bit of freedom. “Tell me now. Under the trees. Let the sky listen.”

“You’re far too sweet to be a warrior,” you laugh, and Aragorn grins, closing the distance. The kiss is chaste and lovely, sending heat down to your toes and up to the crown of your head.

Your fingers find the front of his tunic. They curl inward, pulling of their own accord, seeking his closeness. Aragorn indulges, deepening the kiss until your bodies are pressed together. His hand rises, clutching the back of your neck. There is only you and him and your repeated meetings.

When you finally break apart, your lips are raw, and you hunger for more. You ache for deeper things, and long to tell him so.

“Is this all right?” he asks, fingers brushing against your exposed collarbone.

“Yes,” you murmur in reply, shivering under his touch.

Aragorn returns to your mouth, and you open for him. Your own fingers explore as much as his, but it is Aragorn’s fingers that venture beneath fabric.

You inhale sharply, and his hand retreats. “Apologies.”

“Don’t stop,” you say, grasping his wrist to guide his hand back to your skin.

Under the shade of the apple tree, Aragorn follows your lead, the two of you finding a dance. Although time has not been kind, keeping the two of you parted, there is no need to rush. You are happy simply existing with him, taking time to explore and savor what you’ve missed over the last few months.

Every caress is a song, and each kiss not only satiates but fuels the hunger that sits low in your belly. Fingers press and dig into skin. Clothing opens or falls away. There is no one else around, and Aragorn’s warmth is all you seek.

“Will you stay?” you ask between kisses.

Aragorn pauses, drawing back slightly. “For a few days.”

A few days. A few days with him and then separation. With Aragorn arriving now, will he return in the fall? Or will this be your new normal?

Even as these doubts swirl in your mind, you know the truth.

You don’t care.

As long as he comes, as long as he returns to you when he can, that is enough.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck

@tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath

@berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics

@beebeechaos @hantheconqueror @miaraei

575 notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 days ago

Text

One Promise

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Summary: After the battle at Helm’s Deep, you find it difficult to enjoy the victory feast. Aragorn notices your melancholy and tries to comfort you.

AN: Don't worry, I've got more Dean Winchester, Jason Teague, and Beau Arlen stories coming soon, but I had to finally get out my first ever LOTR story. So if you're a LOTR fan, I would love to know what you think of this! I thought it would only be right to start with Aragorn, our rugged hero. In this one, the reader is Éomer and Éowyn’s sister (the middle child, age-wise).

Word Count: 1.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, and fluff

“Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country,” said Théoden King.

You watched from the crowd before him in the great dining hall of Medulseld, unable to hide your heavy heart. You needed no reminder of what the victory at Helm’s Deep had cost your people.

Théoden raised his chalice full of Rohirric ale and declared, “Hail, the victorious dead.”

“Hail,” the crowd echoed back to him, as was the custom. You repeated yours more quietly before you drank from your cup. The ale tasted like swill on your tongue; not because it wasn’t well-made, but because you didn’t have the heart to enjoy it.

Soon the hall was filled with the chatter and boisterous laughter that came with good food and heavy drinking, and after a battle such as this one, there would be no shortage of spirits. You weren’t surprised that Éomer, your older brother, instigated a drinking game with Rohan’s guests.

“No pauses, no spills,” he said, handing Gimli and Legolas each a pint poured straight from the cask.

“And no regurgitations,” the dwarf added, a mischievous gleam in his eyes when he glanced at the elf.

You smiled, but even in that, it didn’t reach your eyes. Éomer noticed you, or more accurately your unusual quietness.

“Are you all right?” he asked. You saw through his usual stoic expression to the concern laced underneath. You tried to give him a proper smile when you nodded.

“Yes, perhaps just tired,” you said. You took your leave of them with the idea that you might get some fresh air, see the night stars. The memory of being trapped under the depths of Helm’s Deep while a bloody battle raged above was seeped in your subconscious. After the fortified walls of the stronghold crumbled, you remembered thinking, A great crypt this will make of us. Buried forever under ash, orc blood, and bone.

And then the morning came, along with the sun—

“Oh,” you gasped at knocking into someone’s sturdy form. Aragorn, the Ranger, stopped you from tumbling to the floor. His hands were strong, but gentle holding you steady by your arms. Your gaze caught on his left hand, where a silver ring on his forefinger, holding a small green jewel, reminded you that he was no mere rugged ranger. He was the main reason any of you survived the long siege.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked. His voice was even and kind. Always kind.

You tried to steady yourself inside. You always struggled to do so when you looked too deeply into his eyes, so wonderfully blue as a cloudless day. Your face began to warm in a blush.

“I am sorry, my lord,” you said, quick and breathless. Your sloshing cup lied between you two. After a moment, it settled a little. You noticed he didn’t have a drink of his own, and so you found yourself raising your cup in offer to him.

Those cloudless eyes rose to meet you. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his hands slid around yours to bring the cup to his lips. You were spellbound where you stood; you couldn’t even remember blinking while the man took one long sip. He eventually released your hands and inclined his head in thanks.

When you smiled, it almost reached your eyes.

His head tilted slightly. “Are you truly well?”

Your brief happiness faded, and your lips pursed. “Why must everyone ask me that?”

His earnestness shifted into amusement.

“It is a good night,” he said. “One that is hard won.”

“Hard won, indeed,” you agreed, but your tone was heavier.

It didn’t escape his notice as you nodded to him in respect, hesitated briefly, then slipped away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw your younger sister Éowyn watching, a small frown marring her features. She had been looking for him.

Aragorn gave her a reserved smile to acknowledge her, but his gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the path you took away from him. So, he followed you.

He found you based on where his instincts led him—out of the dining hall, and onto a wide ledge that served as a balcony overlooking the immense hill on which Meduseld stood. The cold night air tugged at the skirt of your dress and blew your hair wild on the wind. You held yourself against that cold.

You also flinched at Aragorn’s hand on your back, no matter how gentle he was. His brows furrowed.

“I apologize for intruding, but it is cold out here,” he said.

After a moment, you shook your head and turned to him, drawing your cloak closer to your body. “You are not intruding, my lord. I only…I needed room to hear my own thoughts.”

A weight settled over Aragorn’s heart when he looked at you, so forlorn. Since he’d come to Rohan, and since Théoden King had been freed of his madness, the light in your eyes had begun to brighten day by day.

Aragorn fought at Helm’s Deep for all of Rohan so that its Golden Hall might not fall to Sauron’s malice. But in his mind, it was also your face that too often flashed before his eyes while he fought and scraped. He drew strength whenever he remembered your smile, however rare it was to behold.

“And what do they say?” he asked you in a quiet voice. Quiet, but not without care.

You were looking out at the dark horizon instead of him. You held yourself tighter against the chilled wind.

“That this peace is a lie,” you said. “That all too soon, the next battle will be upon us…and you will leave.”

You looked over at him then, holding his attention far greater than you knew.

“You all will leave, and this hall will once again become a colder, darker place,” you said.

Your admission struck him, so much that he didn’t at once know what to say. He only knew that he didn’t want to see you walk away from him again.

He reached for your hand, the one that lay at your side. He stepped closer into your space, until his broad form was all you could see. Admittedly, there was nothing else you wanted to see, save for the pale glowing stars above. There was a time that you thought you might never see them again.

Aragorn raised his free hand to curl a finger beneath your chin. He murmured your name, and you allowed him to tilt your face upwards so he could see you. Your tearful eyes slowly met his.

“Hope is not lost,” he said.

“But you cannot promise that all of you will return,” you said. With a steeling breath, you finally allowed yourself to be more honest. “That you…will return.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly after he caught your meaning. Then, he softened.

“No. I cannot promise that,” he said.

You bit your lip as a tear fell down your cheek. He swept it away, drawing his thumb tenderly there against your skin.

“But there is one thing that I can promise,” he said.

Your head tilted in question, and it gave him the perfect opportunity. He leaned down and touched his lips to yours. At first it was cautious, a question. You inhaled deeply. Your eyes fell shut.

His second kiss was firmer, heady like red wine. Your trembling hand rose to touch his bearded cheek, and he steadied you by holding your hand there. He broke from you, just to press another tender kiss into your palm, then the inside of your wrist. Your breaths came out in a shaky rush.

“What does this promise mean?” you asked.

Aragorn paused, looking up at you again. He found you smiling. It was small but true as it lightened your face from its despair. Now, he saw hope. He saw fledgling joy.

His lips tugged at a similar smile. “It means I will carry you with me, even when we are apart.”

He moved your hand to rest over his heart.

“It means I carry you here now, even though I stand before you,” he said.

You splayed your fingers out, so your thumb could caress at the edge of warm skin not covered by his collar.

“Then I will do the same.”

AN: Eomer is coming next on the LOTR train! 💜

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

LOTR/The Hobbit Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Aragorn Tag List:

@twilightontop @kmc1989

#One Promise #aragorn x reader #aragorn #lord of the rings #LOTR #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #the lord of the rings #eomer #eowyn #gimli #legolas #two towers #aragorn fluff #zepskies writes

89 notes · View notes

n0tamused · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii! Saw you were doing requests! Could you do a Aragorn x reader? It is Christmas time and they are spending it together with the fellowship (Boromir is alive) please?? 🙏

A/n: Thank you so much for the request! I really hope you like this :D <3 And we all love the 'everyone lives au'.. I do hope I did this request justice, and that I executed his character well. Feel free to let me know your thoughts!

Contents: Aragorn x F!Reader (reader is regarded as 'queen' and 'my lady', but nothing much besides that), fluff, everyone lives au lol, use of Y/n

Words: 3268

Ko-fi

Snow pelted the rolling valleys beyond the White City in cloaks of white shimmer with the golden touch of the rising sun. It was a cold wind that sighed in the air, bringing down the morning chill. Walls of high white stone looked pale yellow and young once more and the world was quiet.

There was little doubt that one talking about ways to wake up peacefully wouldn't name such a sight. One right before you now. Even for the lowliest of creatures, a moment of quiet was always a welcome respite. The tips of your fingers were touched by the cold breath of the morning, your nose as well and the tips of your ears and toes as the balcony held you in its open palm. Sleep had all but fled you that night, and having suffered restlessness far too long you rose with the first light that greeted the sky. While you got used to the sight unraveling before you, the view was no less beautiful than the first day you gazed upon it. From so high above you glimpsed a green banner down in the streets, and another brown one, and besides many others stood green ornaments and decorated big wreaths tangled with ribbons upon the house doors and their corners. From up above it all looked so small, you could almost reach for it and pinch it between your fingers.

Couple of days before you had walked through the cities after receiving Aragorn and yours’ old friends, now come as guests, and there you've seen your people prepared for the approaching holiday. Despite the cold, their faces glowed with warmth and joy. Ever since the war ended the hopes these people displayed was almost strange in how brightly it shone, both in their eyes and in their work. Aragorn had commented on it as well, expressing the unfamiliarity that graced his heart, but he did not cast it away. It was a welcome unfamiliarity. For someone who witnessed and felt the darkness, it felt like accepting aid for the first time. But once it was grasped in your hands you swore to do what you could to protect it forever more. Aragorn, although now a king, never fit into his kingly role as one might’ve expected. He made it a point to walk outside without fancy robes or the crown, being a simple man just like the rest of them, and you were not the only one that appreciated such acts.

Despite your clouded and mixed thoughts, your own joy arose, bubbling along the surface as you became surrounded by more familiar faces over the past couple of days. Aragon had been affected by it too, in the most positive ways. Whatever weight was on his shoulders suddenly melted from him. Friends, family - these were no ordinary words for him. They meant a great deal and carried even greater weight. Suddenly a sound graced your ears, a shuffling from behind and something light dragging across the ground, but you did not turn to meet it. The morning held you still.

“Dearest..” a voice came behind you before a fur cloak kissed your back and thinly veiled arms. “..what brought you from bed and my arms so early this morn?”

He's whispering in that gruff tone of his, no less gentle than any other time he addressed you. Warmth clung to him and the scent of warm blankets tickled your nose, tempting you. Aragorn’s kingly life also meant a certain extent of domesticity that had warmed the old Ranger's heart furthermore. You sigh a smile as you feel warmth seep through your frosty skin, feeling it ebb and flow like a thousand lover’s kisses as your hands caught the edges of it to bring it closer, only now willing to admit you might not be as immune to the cold as you wished to be. Turning your head to him you noted the darkened, sleep heavy eyes as he took you in, patiently waiting for your response to break him from his dream-like state. There was no rush to be had, especially not so early.

“Nothing worrying, Aragorn.. I am alright” you finally told him when his eyes began to wander, looking for a response written between your features; they snapped back to your eyes when you replied. There was a subtle pull at the corners of his mouth and a small nod, displaying that his ears have not given into the dreams and its call.

“Good.. but you need your strength” he spoke plainly, his arms pulling the cloak further around you. There was more to be had to his words, but his refusal to speak more than needed amused you enough.

A chuckle falls from your lips like a scoff, your lips pulling into a grin. “For what?.. Oh, do you see the upcoming evening like a battle?”

Aragorn can’t help but roll his eyes at you, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder instead as his eyelids give under their weight once more. His arms wrapped around your middle, bringing the cloak closer around you. “I would’ve thought you would have missed your old companions, especially after not seeing them so long.. Should I go warn them of events to come?”

“Enough of you..” his arms affectionately squeeze you in his own way of defiance, pushing his chin closer to your neck where his beard tickled and pricked at your skin. “You very well know my words did not hold such meaning, so why must you make it out to be so?” Although you cannot clearly see him now, with him being so closely pressed up against your side, you can feel the curve of his lips.

“To help you wake up. Be sure, my teasing is not nearly what the teasing of others will be..” Your tone had dropped to a comfortable whisper, nuzzling back against him before he slowly began to sway and teeter you away from the balcony, leading you back inside.

“That I know.. but I still have half a day's worth of time to prepare. I believe you’d help me better by joining me in bed for a moment longer”

“Of course. Yet I will have you know that I cannot simply let you sleep again.. We should talk about today” Gently you reached for his hand, your cold fingers giving him a squeeze, but internally you could feel him frown at the coldness. Once back inside, he was quick to close the balcony door and bring you to bed.

“That is quite fine, I did not expect to rest for much longer. You seem excited.. Could that be the reason for your restlessness?”

“Perhaps” you smile at him, sliding underneath the thick blanket, meeting his gaze as he follows in after you. “Perhaps I am just happy to see you be so…yourself?” you continue in a mellow tone, reaching your hand out to cup his cheek. He leans in, eyes falling shut as his warmth spreads through your fingertips, and for a brief moment he grasps your wrist in order to plant a firm kiss to your palm. Then he lets go and cradles you close, pulling you into him until your head is on his chest.

“And I am simply happy that you, and all those loved by me, are safe and happy as well..”

The moments passed swiftly in his arms, the warmth seeping through your bones like warm water through cloth, soaking it up in the comforts of his hold. So dear was the moment that the inescapable parting felt all the worse for it. The cold didn’t seem so bothersome while you were situated alone on the balcony.

The sun climbed higher up the sky, smoothly making its ascend although it felt further away than in any other season, for it failed to chase away the chill even as you walked in the courtyard dressed in several layers. Breaking your fasts that morning with Aragorn was swift, as both of you got pulled apart by your own duties, although duties were more numbered on his end than yours. There was something he was hiding, you could tell by the way his eyes hoped to flee from yours when you stared too long, but you did not know the secret was. So you let him be for now.

Gimli stood underneath the white tree, its branches pebbled with closed buds of flowers that awaited spring through the winter. You could hear his laugh from within the halls of your home, a deep and joyous rumble, and soon you figured out why. Before him the two hobbits, Pippin and Merry, rolled in the snow, trying to push the other one’s face into it. Assuming the end goal was just that, to drown the other in the cold white blanket of nature, Merry was surely on his way to win.

“Good morrow, master Gimli” you called to the dwarf through your chuckling, your gloved hands clutched for warmth.

“Master Gimli?” Gimli scoffed as he turned to look at you, head slightly tilted upward. “Has the distance made us grow into strangers, (Y/n)? Surely not, I’ve hardly been away for that long for ya to forget me” You grin at him, already shaking your head in denial, lifting your hand to wave it in dismissal.

“Of course not! Of course not.. I was simply being polite. I hope you’ll forgive me for that, hm?” you can’t help but smile at him, his eyes shining with that dwarfish mischief entangled with joy, as well as a certain spec of pride only his kind knew how to wear well.

It was hard not to laugh mid-sentence, although the chuckling that fell from between your teeth was already heralding your doom, as Pippin shouted with his mouth full of snow after Merry shoved him into a pile of it. Glancing his way for a moment, his whole face was a mask of pure white, but it soon crumbled away, and he was at Merry again. Both of them laughed - a sweet song in the courtyard, it even rivaled the cold.

“I had hoped to teach these ones a little bit of old dwarfish snow customs, which are few and far between as it is - and yet, they turned it into a completely different game. But I suppose wrestling is not too far off from what I had in mind” Gimli explained, a few snowflakes melting in his beard and mustache.

“Good thing you have plenty of time before the snow melts”. Gimli had shuffled for a moment, reaching inside his intricate and thick layers only to procure his pipe and a handful of green leaves. You wished not to linger on the question of ‘where’ he kept it all.

“Aye. And where is that Aragorn of yours now, stolen off to somewhere without us?”

You look back at the dwarf, noticing the curve of his lips, a teasing coy look lit up his eyes. You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, giving way for silence to linger, knowing of Gimli’s lack of patience for such slow talk and subtle talks. But before he could get impatient enough to burst with another quip of his, you told him Aragorn had gone to oversee the last preparations for the feast tonight. And although you two had shared the load of planning, Aragorn insisted he does this last thing on his own. So you let him. The hardest part of preparations were done and that gave your mind some ease.

After a little more talk you excused yourself on the behalf of your freezing toes, wandering off and back inside to the great halls within the fortress. It felt welcoming, yet no less odd in the most pleasing way, to see more of your old companions within, no doubt seeking the warmth of the great hearth in the dining hall. Boromir sat closest to the fire, Sam beside him and Frodo on the other side of the bench with Legolas keeping stand just a little behind them all, leaned against a pillar and dressed far more lighter than the others. If you could read the thoughts of others, you were sure you’d find a thought that ran along the lines of ‘I wish I had a drop of elf in me to bear the cold better’.

“The Queen!” Samwise Gamgee called in a pleasant surprise of a tone, his eyes lighting up like gems in such ways it made you feel tender, almost unworthy of the praise veiled behind his outburst. The others turned to look, and alike Sam, they all smiled and greeted you warmly.

“Come by the fire, warm yourself” The words were first told by Boromir, who was already rising from his seat to give it to you instead, but you insisted you did not need it. You were on the prowl, you told him, chuckling. “In search of Aragorn, are you?” he followed your line of thought and you nodded, making him scoff and look at the others and then back at you, almost as if sharing a silent thought with them.

“Didn’t lose him, did you?” Sam quipped, with the scarce teasing, yet pure smile of his.

“Oh, no. I hope not, otherwise I’d have no other choice but to call for the Fellowship again..” you mused. “Thankfully, that quest would be far less perilous, although perhaps a little bit dull, compared to what we had gotten used to”.

“Where do you think he’s hiding?” It was Frodo this time that mustered the courage to throw a jest your way, but no later did he try to drown his smile in the large pint of steaming tea only to hiss when he scalded himself, and in turn Sam hissed too for him to be more careful. “It seems I need not say anything, Frodo, the tea scolded you in my stead. Hah, but I think I might find him soon if I keep on searching. He is not the best when it comes to hiding, at least from me..” you told him as you watched Frodo reach for his burnt lips, no doubt he also burnt his tongue but the momentary flash of pain in his features was replaced with gentle mirth. And just like before, you had to excuse yourself, this time on the excuse of being too warm and in need of fresh air. Your heart felt full, knowing so many familiar souls had gathered together again, and you passed several as you passed through the grand halls alone before finally seeing that one face you were looking for.

You found him in the inner courtyard, a far smaller one with a glass ceiling. A green-house. He had it built for you not too long after his coronation, and he had planted many flowers and plants since then, some of which he got from Rivendell or Rohan. Now, amidst the many pots and in the soil underfoot lay several of your own works as well. It was warm here, or perhaps it was you who was too warm at the sight of his gentle tending to the plants. He was lone, his guards not posted anywhere near.

“My King..”

His head turned at the sound of your wistful voice, his eyes reflecting a moment of surprise before a tender smile curved his lips. “My Queen..” It falls from his lips gently like a petal.

“What are you doing?” Inquiring seemed innocently foolish after you glimpsed the flowers in his hands, the sensitive orchid and lilies bouquet tied deftly by a red ribbon and another one in your favorite color. The bows sat slightly lopsided, but they held the flowers together well enough. Perhaps hearing his response would make you feel less like a fool for asking, but fools in love do foolish things, so you couldn’t blame yourself for inquiring, nor him for his secrecy.

“Why, I am only hoping to prepare a good gift for my love” he began, looking back down at the bouquet, the dagger he used for cutting lay on the wooden work table placed in the middle of the green-house. “Once she told me loved these flowers but I failed to give them to her on time as they failed to bloom in my care. And now, as I hold them here, I am asking myself whether she would like them. What say you, my lady?”

There was an attempt to hold your heart from squeezing out of the impact of his affection, but one skip of a heart and your lungs feel devoid of air, and your lips are all but helpless in the fight against a smile. ‘The green-house was always warm, but surely it wasn’t supposed to be this warm, was it?’ Your throat bobbed as you swallowed a word or two involuntarily, something which Aragorn shows his satisfaction in a form of a widening smile and for further measure he lifts the bouquet up for your inspection.

“Have you counted the flowers?” you suddenly ask and you can tell it catches him off guard, his blue eyes flickering from you to each open flower. “..I have” he responded quickly, mid-count. You waited, letting silence grab hold of his cloaked shoulders and every petal of the flowers, your smile slowly widening as you watched the cogs and wheels turning in his mind, only veiled by his eyes. "I have counted them" He looks up at you then, after counting each flower, brows furrowed in one firm question that he dares not voice then.

Silence may have been a vice for him, but it was a challenge for you to not tease him further or begin laughing at the evident uncertainty. You let out a huff of laughter, breaking in through the silence that nearly suffocated his hope for a thoughtful gift.

“You..” he begins and you end up laughing more at the tremble his voice nearly clung on to, edged by gruffness of feigned anger. His feet suddenly carry him in a few swift strides towards you. You can hardly look at him through your squinted eyes, failing to look serious. “My beloved, you will be the end of me one of these days” he softens his words, tempering them until the playfulness forms from his tongue and leaves behind lightheartedness.

“One of these days, no, that’d be too soon. Maybe after you’ve learned to count the flowers, but that day won’t come for a long time yet, I reckon” now at ease and calmer than you were moments prior with giggles in your chest, you tipped your head backwards, only to peer into the learned blue eyes of your king husband. There was not a shadow of arrogance in there, but there was age and a thousand and some stories.

“All your friends are asking about you, where you ran off to” you began after a moment of not one word being uttered. Years had made it so that words seemed like excess in some moments, a lot of them.

“They’re getting a bit impatient.. We should go meet them”

“Aye, yes, we should” Aragorn says and with one hand he seeks yours out, guiding it to take hold of the bouquet, and until you’re securely holding the flowers he does not let go. His hands are warm, calloused, and they leave a lingering feeling before he parts. The separation does not last long for he offers you his elbow, and without any hesitation you loop your arm through his after giving his cheek a kiss.

60 notes · View notes

ransprang · 11 months ago

Text

thank you @tolkien-fantasy we hope you like your match ups <3

if anyone else wants a personalized fic this is our ko-fi

your lotr match up is....

ARAGORN!!!

SFW

How you met: In the tranquil corners of Rivendell, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, found himself drawn to the sanctuary of books and knowledge. It was a day much like any other, with the soft hues of dawn painting the sky as Aragorn ventured into the library, seeking solace in the written word. Amidst the towering shelves and hushed whispers of parchment, his eyes fell upon a figure, small in stature yet radiating an aura of boundless energy. You were friendly to him when you saw him, surprised to see someone at the library at this hour and happily helped him find whatever book he was looking for. Your chipper personality cheered him up and he found himself drawn to the library more often. He preferred to come when there were fewer people around which gave you both a chance talk in peace. He began to open up to you more eased by your wise and mature personality, and eventually fell in love.

Aragorn is to be a king, so your wisdom and intelligence would be indispensable to him in his ruling years. Your ability to think quickly and offer practical solutions to complex problems proves invaluable as he navigates the challenges of governance.

Aragorn isn’t the type to give you extravagant gifts even once he becomes king. Instead he tries to find you small, sentimental pieces which remind him of you, like delicate necklaces with meaningful words inscribed upon them.

Your wisdom and cheerful personality would be a guiding light in Aragorn's darkest moments, reminding him to find joy in the simple pleasures of life and offering him respite from the weight of his responsibilities. If he ever saw you were upset he would try to return the favour and cheer you up.

Together, you and Aragorn create cherished traditions that strengthen your bond, such as sharing quiet moments in the garden at dawn, or exchanging heartfelt letters whenever duty keeps you apart.

Aragorn is a selfless man. He would often puts the needs of others before his own, sacrificing personal comfort and safety for you or the greater good in a heartbeat.

Aragorn likes going on adventures. He rarely every sits stills and would take you to different countries or cities. You would become a very well travelled person after a few years of dating him.

Aragorn would struggle with the idea of you dying before him, since his extended lifespan would mean he would have to spend his twilight years alone, living only with your memory. Your work as a death doula would equip you with the skills necessary to prepare him to deal with your loss.

When your hair isn’t covered, you catch Aragorn staring at you often, admiring your beauty. He is dazed by the way the sunlight dances off your auburn hair and the rakes his fingers gently through your waves before giving you a kiss.

Learning that you are a witch doesn’t freak him out at all. Instead it piques his curiosity. He’ll take the opportunity to learn about witchcraft from you and ask you many questions. When he’s out and about if he recognizes any materials that you use for witchcraft he’ll bring them back as little gifts.

N/SFW

All heavy makeout sessions first start with sweet, innocent kisses on your face. The kisses start moving south with Aragorn’s hands exploring your body as if he’s never touched you.

Aragorn keeps sex positions tame as he doesn’t want to overexert your body. He’ll always try to make sure you are comfortable and of course you both have a safe word to make sure you can tap out or take a break. He’s always very sweet about it, giving you a worried look.

He’s the king of aftercare. After you both cum he rolls over and strokes your auburn hair looking at your flushed face. Aragorn gives you kisses on your forehead and the back of your hand like a gentleman with a smile, happy to be able to share intimate moments with each other.

Aragorn enjoys making love to you on the soft grass, surrounded by flowers under the open sky. As he kisses your skin and you tangle your fingers in his hair, he slowly thrusts his penis deep inside. You two become one with your surroundings and a part of nature.

Aragorn eats you out, gently and picks up the speed as you pant faster. He grips your thighs, as he feels your skin against his finger tips and your soft folds on his tongue.

He likes to give you deep kisses, as he touches you all the way down, before playing with your clit and eventually inserting his fingers in, while still using his thumb to rub your sensitive bean.

Aragorn would carry you with your legs wrapped around his body, straddling him. He would thrust his cock deep inside while carrying you and fucking you around the house like this, knocking small items over in a moment of passion.

He would whisper reassurances in between grunts. “My darling, you are doing great.” he would say as he slowly increases the pace of his thrusting.

He would tangle his fingers through your hair and look deep within your eyes as you both breathe in rhythm with your heart, observing every breath you take. Aragorn pays close attention to you during intercourse, always looking out for signs of discomfort, or pleasure

Aragorn would kiss your neck softly, leaving you feeling almost ticklish. He smiles with joy watching you giggle beneath his touch, as he would continue kissing your flushed cheeks and cuddling you in his arms.

your books,

admins sar, san & sav

58 notes · View notes

shirefantasies · 6 months ago

Note

hii! love your writings, I was wondering if you could do a reader x fellowship (plus eowyn and arwen) where reader is usually seen in armor and unkempt garments + dirty hair but then one day they show up (probably for an event) in beautiful fancy clothes, hair did and everything? Thanks!!!!

scREAMS I LOVE THIS YES. Warning: minor blood mention in two

LoTR Characters Seeing You Dressed Up For the First Time

Aragorn

Both of you had only borne witness to the other in times of battle and survival, not exactly the most formal of circumstances, but such had never even occurred to you until the night of celebration in Rohan. King Theoden invited you to the company of his family, offering his niece or nephew to take you to a bathhouse and present you with a new outfit. Aragorn turned your way the moment you stepped out, eyes positively glowing with reverent awe focused entirely on your form, your smile as your gazes met. He said nothing, simply drew closer until you could feel his warmth upon you. "The people of Rohan have been good to us," he said. "Yes," you agreed with a nod, "I wish we can give as much back. But perhaps we should start by enjoying their hospitality, hm?” “Indeed. Let us keep this night for ourselves. I fear if I stray too far, though, I may get lost in you.” “Don’t worry,” you whispered, lips quirking upward as you pulled Aragorn into the fray of dancers, “I’ll be here to pull you back, too.”

Legolas

Legolas managed to seem dressed up in nearly anything he wore, a feat you certainly envied! Your travels left you feeling like a drowned rat half the time or else just dirty and bedraggled. When the elves of Lothlórien offered you housing, bathing, even food and dancing for two nights, no had fled your vocabulary entirely. Taking their hands, you were swept off into a river of luxury, emerging clean and smiling and draped in the finest fabrics. An elf on either side, you made your way down to the lower flet upon which your hospitality lie, the way Legolas turned his head not once but twice unable to escape your notice. "What?" You teased, aware at least of his shock to see you clad so differently. "You didn't know what I looked like beneath my helmet?" "I didn't know you looked so nice beneath it," He conceded with a smile, stepping closer, "Perhaps we ought not to return it after this night."

Boromir

Had someone asked him, Boromir would never have said he wanted someone with blood under their nails and sword in hand. That was him, that was his job. And yet he felt something different when he clapped a hand to your shoulder after you saved him in combat. When you emerged at the party dressed up, though? His heart swelled five sizes. He should have known- you could do anything. “Putting everyone to shame here, aren’t we?” “What do you mean?” You asked, gaze flitting deliciously down to the hand Boromir laud upon your shoulder, all but challenging him. Accepting it, he rested the other on your hip, urging you out into a dance. “Looking better than them in both mail and finery.” “I suppose I’m just lucky.” “No, I am,” Boromir shot back, “For I am the one who gets to have you in my arms.”

Gimli

To use Gimli's words, around each other you two tend to remain "fully armed and filthy". It is Lord Elrond, of course, who offers an alternative state upon your entry to his homely-house, granting you the reprieve of your first bath in far too many days and even a new outfit. Elvish craftsmanship was like nothing else, delicately embroidered and soft and light unlike anything that has ever graced your skin. Reactions were something you hadn’t considered in the slightest, but as soon as you emerged you found yourself giggling at Gimli’s parted lips and removal of his helmet as if in some reverence you had not earned. “Now this,” he nodded with a smile of approval as he swept an arm over your entire form, “This is the one thing the elves have gotten right.”

Frodo

The tailors’ shop was busy this morning. Bilbo needed a new set of threads to replace some tugged-off buttons, but every working hobbit was rushing around before Frodo could even ask if they had a spool of forest green to spare. What were they- “Frodo!” He would recognize that voice anywhere. Turning, he caught sight of you in the middle of a fitting, the tailors having been flitting about your form as they worked on quite a fine outfit for you. “What do you think?” Spinning around and then striking a joking pose, you fixed him right in the eyes, and it was like an arrow struck him, taking the very breath from his lungs. Finally Frodo’s sense and words returned to him, bringing a smile to his lips. “It’s perfect.”

Sam

You had worked with Sam plenty of times in the gardens, so he had seen you countless times in things like overalls or pinafores or aprons and thought you looked fit for any king and castle. But then came Fatty Bolger’s birthday party, a bash all his friends were invited to…and plenty of other hobbits would find themselves at anyway. One such was you, and knowing you’d be dancing you got cleaned up quite nice, standing at the edges of the lantern-hung floor hoping you might be noticed. And noticed you were, for you caught Samwise Gamgee as he controlled his gaping expression and shook his head out before he approached you, asking if you’d honor him with a dance.

Merry

Gimli was teasing you as Merry entered the room, feeling his heart shoot into his throat at a mere glimpse. He caught a few spare words from the dwarf, including him asking you if you had someone you’d like to impress. “Hush,” you chastised him, “What if he hears you?” At that, Merry couldn’t resist stepping forward. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress,” he told you, eyes full of wonder, “But he’s an absolute fool if it doesn’t work.” “You really think so?” Your tone, your hopeful look, those beautiful eyes Merry could drown in. “I know so.” “Well,” you glanced away, “That’s good. Very good, since it was you.”

Pippin

Tired and bedraggled, you all but fell into the arms of the elves of Lothlórien, blissfully bathing and shyly accepting the fine garb they offered you. Tugging it into place, you emerged through the doorway, unaware the rest of your fellowship waited beyond the threshold. Soon as his eyes fell upon you, Pippin's jaw dropped, his lips slowly curling upward into a wide smile that had you mirroring it, gaze dropping from his. “Wow," Pippin breathed as you drew closer still, hands hovering in front of him in the space between your bodies, "You- you look- Wow. They’ve certainly given you a fine…wow.”

Faramir

On the battlefield you had fought side by side, faces obscured by steel and focus. Soldiers from two armies melded as one. Yet here you were simply citizens, representatives of your people. Diplomats even on the dance floor. All thoughts of such relations fled from Faramir’s mind, though, as your form filled his vision. “Never did I think I would be granted such a moment as this,” he confessed as you took his hand and gripped about his neck, body swaying against his.

Eomer

Theoden, Rohan's king, was giving a celebration all were to attend. Something of a victory revel, but you must confess that you just looked forward to the dancing. Stuffy as it may have been, it was also quite fun donning a nice outfit, your reflection beaming back at you. The expression carried on all the way into the great hall, shining into the hanging lights. You caught sight of a head turning the moment you emerged. A golden head. Eomer. With a wave, he dismissed the man he spoke to- a fellow soldier, you presumed- and strode before you. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" "To the same thing everyone else does, I suppose," you teased in response, "This revel." "Well, remind me to thank my uncle later," Eomer replied with a wide smile, extending a hand in a clear invitation to dance as his eyes traveled up and down over your form, "Shall we?"

Eowyn

She had worn a smile of surprise when you even removed your helmet for the first time in her presence, let alone donning your finest. When it came time for a celebration with her people, a far different garb hung from your body, all in gorgeous fabrics and colors perfectly complimenting your own hues. As soon as you stepped into the light of Rohan's hall, Eowyn positively grinned, her eyes of soft blue alight. Taking up a cup from the table by which she stood, she crossed over to stand before you and offer you a drink, which you accepted. "The garb of Rohan suits you perfectly," she complimented, "Do you plan on dancing?" It was worth seeing the progression of shock and speechlessness melting back into a grin when you extended a hand and replied, "If you will have me."

Haldir

Working side by side meant seeing each other in some of the worst moments, sleeves slashed and blood seeping from wounds. Armor caked with dirt and quivering devoid of arrows. Body carried to healers with reddening bandages hastily tied around limbs. And yet this, this is what shocks him. Haldir’s breath is utterly stolen, not of concern or fear this time, but in the manner of one first seeing the falling stars. “Stay still,” he breathes, almost pleading, “Let me take you in for a moment.”

Galadriel

You were a warrior by profession. In a way, at least. One such that mail was your garb far more often than any dress or robe. Thus, when you made to visit the elves of Lothlórien, you were shocked to see the fine things they'd lain out for you, pulled gently onto your body as if you deserved servants. In fact you had tried to protest, but they had simply smiled and shook their heads as fine jewels were hung about your neck. That you had earned an audience with the Lady Galadriel, was a testament to your service you would not soon take for granted. Thus, as you stood before them, you made first to lower yourself in reverence. Before you could fully adopt your posture, though, you felt the grip of a soft hand beneath your chin gently pulling you back up. Soon you were raised to meet Galadriel's eyes. "You need not bow to me. I confess I wished very much to see you like this. Come with me, if you please."

Elrond

Some might say the Lord of Rivendell should not look upon a soldier such as he did. Some of those same voices might have spoken up of the love of man and elf that had brought forth his ancestors. Not that he would not have understood. Yet as it was every time you removed your helmet something stirred in Elrond that had not done so for some years. And then one night came the celebration, a festival to which all in his counsel were invited, you included. It was that very night, in fact, that he realized how little he had seen of you outside the patrols you took together, and the same in which he would confess to you how he felt beneath the moonlight, finally spilling forth every word of your beauty you deserved.

Arwen

Had you asked her, she would have thought not at all of your dress. Your heart was what she loved, the way you cared and the way you smiled whenever you looked upon someone dear to you. Yet the day of her birthday, you draped yourself in your very finest, emerging in the view of an Arwen who could not bear tearing her eyes off of you. Grinning her beautiful grin, the elf took your hand and immediately twirled you, viewing you from every angle with her expression never faltering. “You look amazing,” she told you, "For a moment, I thought I was dreaming."

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude | Reply/Message/Ask to join 💕

329 notes · View notes

intoxicated-chan · 1 year ago

Text

𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐭!

Summary ➳ When you and the rest decide to sneak up on an Orc camp, you receive an injury. You believe you can handle it yourself but Legolas thinks otherwise.

(A/n) ➳ I AM SO SORRY! Tumblr ended up deleting the request but I remember it but not all of it so forgive me if this isn’t what you wanted. If it isn’t then don’t hesitate to shoot a message or request again!! I also learned that apparently the Fellowship traveled at night and slept during the day. I seriously did not know that until today.

Word Count ➳ 1.5k

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, description of violence, blood, death, stitching, blood loss, angst-to-fluff…

“There must be some other way.” Legolas uttered to Boromir. “You cannot believe that sending (Y/n) out to assassinate the Orcs is the best solution.”

“She won’t be alone, Aragorn will be there with them.” Boromir replied. “The two of them will attack from above while we attack from below.” He drew his sword, walking closer to the Orc that was alone. He was swift with it, moving behind the Orc and slitting its throat. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

You took a deep breath as you aimed your bow, you kept your focus on the leader. You could see from the corner of your eye Aragon sneaking up on the other two. You knew he was waiting on your signal and he would wait however long, but you were all on a strict time.

Another deep breath and- “Hey!” You shouted out of instinct, Legolas’s arrow went through the Orc’s head, killing him but you brought attention to yourself.

You jumped down from the tree and quickly nocked, drew, aimed, and released at one Orc that was reaching for its weapon. You swerved past another arrow, more flying past your head until you took cover over a giant rock.

Before you could nock another arrow, an Orc came from behind, grabbing your arms to throw you against the ground. You rolled when he attempted to stab you, dodging more swings until you managed to kick his sword away.

He charged at you, taking your knife that was strapped to your leg, and used it against you. You used your bow to block a couple of slashes until he fell to the ground. Instead of standing, he got onto his knees and managed to stab you in your thigh.

You let out a scream but in return, you shot an arrow through his head. Your breathing staggered as your hand wrapped around the knife and slowly pulled it out and then covered it with terrible bandaging.

“(Y/n)!” Legolas popped up a few seconds later. “I heard you scream.”

“I believed I twisted my ankle.” You covered your wound with your as best as you could, smiling through the pain.

“Let me help you.” Legolas took your hand, helping you walk to the rest of the group. Luckily, your cloak covered your bleeding wound and your dark pants were enough to hide the blood seeping out. “We just have a couple more hours before daylight.”

Like Legolas said, Aragorn finally decided that it was time to rest. “We will set out when it becomes dark.” He told you all before he started to set up his makeshift bed.

Legolas looked over your ankle, looking closely and pressing against it, looking back at you for a reaction. “It doesn’t seem to be twisted, but it may be strained. You have been jumping a lot, and might have happened when your footing was incorrect.”

You could practically feel the sweat running down your forehead. “Does it seem bad?”

Legolas smiled, his usual smile that was beaming with kindness. “No, the pain should fade later. Are you in pain or hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no, thank you.” After Legolas joined Aragorn, chatting. It wasn’t long before it was just murmurs among the Fellowship. Sam and Frodo were cooking together, Gimli was most likely perched up against a tree sleeping, but you didn’t know about the rest.

You were farther into the forest, a needle and thread in your hand. You placed a thick piece of fabric in between your teeth and bit down, you used your other hand to keep the gash close together so you could stitch it.

You let out a strained cry as you attempted to stitch your wound yourself but it was difficult due to your vision blurring. You didn’t know how long you were out here, so focused on closing your wound that you didn’t hear branches breaking or leaves crunching.

“You’re hurt.” Legolas’s voice broke you out of your concentration. You could see the panic in his eyes, he kneeled by your side, taking the needle from you and moving your hand from your thigh. “And you’re doing it incorrectly. You’re hurting yourself more.”

He used his other hand to pull a container of water, and flushed out your wound. “How did you get this? And when?”

“Just a couple hours ago.”

“And you’ve been bleeding this entire time?” Legolas’s voice was filled to the brim with regret, like he was ashamed of himself. He carefully threaded the thread into your skin, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose.

You took out the cloth from your mouth. “Look Legolas, I’m still alive and well.” You tried to ease him. “I’ll be alright, I’m okay.”

“I should’ve known, you have been moving slower, as well as your reaction time.” He acknowledged. Once he finished stitching your wound, he poured water again to wash out the rest of the dried blood.

He helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. He moved at a slow pace back to camp, everyone was now asleep, save it for Aragorn who just watched you both silently.

He helped you lay down. “I’ll be fine.” You repeated yourself, it felt like the hundredth time.

Legolas shook his head. “Please, do not hide anything. You shouldn’t be silent about these kinds of things.”

As if waking up very early in the morning couldn’t be any better, Orcs have seemed to find you all. You had a feeling that they were stalking you all, waiting for the moment to attack. You used your bow instead of your sword, making sure none of the Orcs came close to the Hobbits.

An Orc charged at you. You dodged the first couple of swings but not the kick to the leg, making you kneel and it felt like the stitches broke.

You screamed as you used your arrow to stab it into the Orc’s shoulder. Legolas’s arrow came from behind and slew the bastard and Merry came to your side to help you stand.

“Run into the forest!” Boromir shouted, blocking the sword coming down at him. “Go! Quickly!”

Merry helped you speed through the forest. You suddenly felt sick, like you wanted to pass out. But it wasn’t long before the Orcs gave up the chase and Merry sat you against a tree.

“They’re bleeding!” Merry alerted the rest of the Fellowship.

Legolas dropped in front of you, pushing your hands away from the wound. “I need a needle and thread.” He said, more like demanded. “Or a cloth to stop the bleeding.”

Aragorn ripped a piece of his shirt and handed it to Legolas, he snatched it and was quick to tie it around your wound. “I’ll need some herbs, in case the wound becomes infected.” Sam shuffled through his bag. “Luckily you should be able to walk but not run.”

You swore under your breath. “It seems the Orcs are watching us at all times.” You looked up at Aragorn. “What do we do?” You asked him.

“There may be another camp nearby.” Aragorn replied. “Boromir, Legolas, we need to search.”

“Someone should stay and protect the Hobbits.”

“Gimli is here and (Y/n) still has the strength to use their bow.”

“But what if they need to retreat? What will happen then?” Legolas still pressed, wanting to remain by your side. “We cannot put the Hobbits at risk, especially the ringbearer.”

“Gimli will be here, just go with them.” You told him.

“I will not.”

Aragorn was too annoyed to even put up an argument anymore. “Let us go then.”

When they were out of sight, you pushed his shoulder slightly. “What was that?” You asked him, confused out of your mind.

“Someone must be here to protect the Hobbits-”

“I know that, it would’ve been fine. They are taking care of the camp, the Orcs won’t be nearby to bother us.” You once again tried to explain to him. “What is going on with you? Are you still feeling guilty?”

“No-”

“Doesn’t seem like that.” Your breathing hitched as you attempted to stand.

Legolas grabbed your warm to stop you. “You cannot be moving at the moment. Give yourself time to relax.”

“It’s just a small cut!”

“A cut that could’ve killed you.”

You huffed. “What is going on with you Legolas?”

“Becoming reckless is one thing but hiding a serious injury that could have killed you is another. It makes me worry, it makes me question if you have more injuries you’ve hidden.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the wound. I didn’t think that it would mean so much for you.” You admitted.

“I worry, I worry every single day, every fight, during the night and during the daybreak. Will the morrow be the day where someone or something takes you from me?” His hand grazed over your wound. “I just want to know I’ve done everything and anything.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again.

“Just promise me, I do not care how small it is or how big, please do not hesitate to ask for help.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

734 notes · View notes

wild-lavender-rose · 4 months ago

Note

14 w/ Aragorn? Your writing is so cute

Thank you so much, lovely! I hope you enjoy!

Burns

Warning: Description of burn injuries, brief mention of non-sexual nudity

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You writhed and squirmed as Aragorn lowered you into the bath tub. "Please, no. Please,"

"Shh, you're okay. Shh," Aragorn set you down and pulled back, his wet hands going to grasp your face. "The herbs in the water will soothe your burns, but you must let them take effect."

Your forehead fell against his chest, biting back a scream as the burns on your bare legs grew still more painful. "Aragorn," you whimpered, grasping at his shirt.

"I have you," Aragorn held onto you, hand cradling the back of your head.

"It hurts, I can't,"

"You can scream, my love. It's just me now. You don't have to be brave."

Tears began to run down your face. A scream ripped out of your throat. Aragorn held you tightly, whispering comfort until your body finally sagged into unconsciousness.

Fanfic Masterlist

#aragorn fluff #Aragon hurt comfort #Aragorn whump #aragorn fanfic #aragorn #lord of the rings aragorn #lord of the rings #aragorn x reader #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #lord of the ring

94 notes · View notes

thewulf · 11 months ago

Text

Am I Wrong? || Aragorn

Summary: Request: Could you write something about (fem)reader who's part of the fellowship and really close to Strider? When they split up to find Frodo after Boromir blows the horn, reader goes with Merry and Pippin and gets separated from Strider.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Picking up when the group reunites in Isengard after Treebeard/Hobbits/Reader sack the place :) This is really sweet and fluffy, thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !!

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.7k +

TW: General LOTR triggers, anxiety, fear, kidnapping, orcs,

Aragorn followed behind Gandalf as he led the small group to Isengard to deal with the dark Wizard himself. What he wasn’t expecting was to run into another part of the Fellowship after so being separated for so long.

He heard the Hobbits before he saw you standing there, radiant as ever, “I feel like I’m back at the Green Dragon after a hard day’s work.” Pippen spoke with his pipe happily placed in his mouth relieved the events of Isengard were over more than anything.

Merry spoke next, “Only, you’ve never done a hard day’s work.” That’s when he heard your bubbly laughter in response to the usual joking hobbits who were clearly very inebriated. You on the other hand seemed totally in control of the situation.

Aragorn’s heart pounded in his chest as he spotted you standing with your side facing him chatting happily with the two Hobbits that stole you away from him. You were alive. Somehow more beautiful than he ever remembered you being. His eyes scanned up and down your figure making sure they truly weren’t deceiving him. You were here in Isengard. Merry and Pippen too.

Merry stood, almost falling over, shouting at them with rosy, red cheeks, “Welcome my Lords, to Isengard!” You turned with the biggest smile on your face. Once your eyes landed on Aragorn’s you couldn’t take them away. Your smile grew as his mouth dropped in shock seeing you standing there alive and well. He couldn’t track you. He thought the worst of it. He knew right then that he had to tell you. He loved you. So deeply. He never knew if he was going to see you again, he thought the worst of the Orcs after not being able to find your tracks with the Hobbits.

“Y/N.” He spoke before nearly shoving the Hobbits away from where you were standing. He needed to be right next to you. Your smile turned to one of focus as you took him in after too long apart. Truly, you knew you loved him too. You wished to never spend another night away from your Strider. He was your home and comfort. He became your person without you even knowing it.

Without another word you through your arms around him tightly, bringing him in for an unexpected embrace. Unafraid of all the glances and knowing smiles from the fellowship and other men around you. You couldn’t seem to care about that right now, you’d deal with the embarrassment later, “Strider. What are you doing here?”

Before he could answer you Gimli shouted from behind the reunion, “You young rascals! A merry hunt you’ve led us on… and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!”

After dropping your arms from around his neck, you stepped around your missed companion taking offense to his words, “They’ve earned it Gimli!” You only smiled bigger once you felt Striders hand resting on the small of your back. He had always been protective of you but never so forward with it. The two of you had pined from afar but never acted on it as that would be seen as improper. But that was then. That was before he had feared the worst. You were alive. Breathing right in front of him with the most precious blush sitting on your cheeks. Yeah, he knew it was over for him. He needed you and was tired of trying to hide it.

Merry cheered with his pipe after you spoke and before Pippen tuned in, “We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well-earned comforts.” He giggled in his non-sober state, “The salted pork is particularly good.” Pippen added for good measure knowing it would get under his dwarf friend’s skin.

You nodded along with them giggling yourself, “It is indeed.” You saw the gleam in Striders eye like he was trying not to laugh at the situation they had found themselves in. The plan certainly wasn’t running into the three of you while in an inebriated state. Aragorn knew you well and currently you were particularly giggly, a sign you’d partaken in some of their endeavors even if you tried to deny it.

The Hobbits waved their friends into Isengard, “We’re under orders from Treebeard who’s taken over management of Isengard.” Merry led the group in leaving Strider standing next to you holding onto the reigns of his horse. After the two of you shared a few moments just staring at the other he finally decided to speak to you. Neither of you were willing to follow the group at that moment. The two of you had a reunion to attend to before dealing with Saruman.

“I thought you were dead.” He admitted to you. Aragorn couldn’t meet your eyes as you just looked at him with a bit of bemusement forming along your tapered smile.

You tisked at him shaking your head, “You think so little of me Strider, no?” A growing smirk was playing at your lips as you studied his downtrodden expression.

His eyes finally looked into yours again, “Never, you know this. But I… I could not find your tracks along the Hobbits…”

“You did not think I would cover my tracks?” You eyebrows rose, challenging him now, “I thought you have always said I learned from the best?” Referring to him, naturally.

He let out a lengthy laugh. The tension in his shoulders released seeing you as the same person he thought he lost only a few weeks prior. Even though it had only been a few weeks he knew he could never part from you for that long again. He was a fool and only he came to realize that once you had slipped through his fingertips after getting taken by the Orcs. You didn’t hear his yell for you as he watched you fight. But even you, one of the best Rangers he knew, couldn’t overcome so many of them all at once. And just as he saw you, you had vanished in front of him along with the Hobbits. He had never felt such a failure before seeing you disappear with the creatures you had detested for as long as you’ve been alive.

“I should have never doubted you.” He spoke with that twinkle in his eye. He adored you, through and through. A slow gulp overtook him as he studied you. He always knew you were beautiful, ever since you met him all those years ago. But now, after it took him losing you to realize that he was in love with you, he understood just how stunning you truly were.

You nodded with that confidence he had adored in you, “Aye. Thought you would have learned by now Master Strider.” Tossing him a wink even you did not know where this overly friendly attitude towards your partner was coming from. That’s all he was and could ever be, just a partner in work.

He bowed his head with a similar smirk gracing his face, “Indeed. Forgive me, Y/N. But I was terrified. I thought I had lost you. My thought process was… less than rational.” When his eyes met yours once more a sad smile parted his lips. It hit you that he truly thought he might have actually lost you. Thinking of what you would do had you thought you lost him had you in an instant fit of tears. There would be no rationality in your actions had you thought of Strider dying.

His striking blue eyes sent a familiar shiver down your spine. You gave him a quick nod, “I will always forgive you, my king.”

Strider let out that familiar laugh that you had adored so much. The one that sent a shiver though your body, “It wounds me that you mock me so easily, my Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop your fluttering heart at his words, my Y/N, “I would never do such thing, you are my king, no?” You rose your eyebrows in curiosity. Sure, the news that he was the heir of Isildur took you by surprise. It didn’t shock you completely though. There was always something about him that felt so other worldly. When Legolas let true of his identify at the Council of Elrond it all sort of made sense. You’d been Rangers together for nearly thirty years, both of you being Dunedin it made sense to pair the two of you together early on in your ventures. He had never told you of his true heritage throughout all that time together. While it stung when you learned you understood why he had done so.

“I see you have not lost your tongue.” He avoided your question.

You smiled knowing his usually ways of dodging, “Would you rather they take it?”

But a quick shake of the head let you know he was simply playing, “Never. Your wit is but my favorite thing about you.”

Letting out a feigned gasp you shook your head, “I should be so offended Aragorn.”

“What do you mean?” He looked surprised by your reaction unsure if you were simply messing with him or being completely serious.

“Do you find me that unattractive?” You asked a little too bluntly knowing that you were surly crossing that invisible line the two of you had danced around for far too long.

A fiery blush rose to his cheeks letting you know you had finally gotten the better of him, “Oh no. Never. No. I did not mean it like that. Please…”

You stopped his incoherent rambling with a stifled giggle, “I tease.”

Shaking his head slowly he knew he likely looked a fool standing in front of you. He couldn’t hide it though as all of his emotions came forward seeing you there alive and well. He had begun the process of mourning your death, thinking he’d never see you again. He knew he wanted to tell you exactly how he felt, right here. He wanted to waste no more time. He came to the striking realization that even no matter skilled you or he was life in middle earth was very hostile and unforgiving. The chance of death was high and even higher now that the two of you had joined the Fellowship.

“You are fortunate I care for you very deeply.” He chose his words carefully, hopeful you would pick up on his true meaning.

“Oh?” You heard his words a little surprised. There was not much he could say that took you by surprise but this was one of them that did. He had never so much admitted he cared for you at all let alone deeply in your time together. Strider was very kind to you but the two of you shared a working relationship at most. You weren’t out here letting your tightly bound feelings out and he certainly wasn’t either.

His confidence grew seeing the color rise to your cheeks at his words. You were thinking and hard at it apparently, “That cannot be all you have to say.” He stepped forward knowing that he had the upper hand on you for once. He could never seem to catch you off guard until this very moment.

You sucked in a breath not having a clue where this seemingly innocent interaction was heading. Turning around you spotted the rest of The Fellowship talking to Treebeard far off in the distance. You spun back finding him standing much, much closer than he was before. Eyes widening your head was not making sense of what was actually happening, “I was not expecting you to say that.” It was you deflecting this time which drew an arrogant smirk on the man standing far closer than you were used to. How did he smell so good? Surely he hadn’t bathed in a while. How did Strider do it? Make your mind fuzzier than ever.

He had to look down to meet his eyes with yours, “I never want to spend a day away from you again.”

If your cheeks were not already aflame with realization they were flooding with color now, “You do not?”

It was he who had the courage to make the first move on you after seeing how easily you reacted under his words. He took his hands and brushed away a streak of dirt across your cheek slowly sending your already racing heart into another frenzy, “No, never. These last few weeks have been the worst in my life. Never do I wish to part from you again. If that is what you wish for too.” Ever the man you fell in love with, he left the decision up to you.

It was your turn to be courageous now, “I wish the same.”

His devilish smirk turned into a smile of utmost joy. A smile you so rarely saw on the man. For you knew you didn’t wish to separate from him ever again either. Nearly every moment you were away you thought of him. You thought what he would do in your situation and tried your hardest to stay positive. If it were not for the Hobbits you may have stayed to fight with the Rohirrim when they had saved you from the clutches of the orcs who had you running for days on end. But you knew Strider would save them before fighting on his own, the Hobbits would never survive Gondor on their own. In a way he had saved your life countless times even when he was not there. Strider stayed with you always. You loved him always.

It was then that he realized he had nothing to lose. The way you had looked at him told him exactly what he wanted to know. You had loved him just as dearly as he loved you, “Can I tell you something?”

A nod came from you, “Anything.”

It was now or never and he wasn’t planning on missing his chance, “I love you.”

You could not help the way your mouth dropped at that, “You what?”

“I love you.” He said again with more confidence. He loved you and he couldn’t keep it from you anymore. Strider also knew that things would never go back to normal after this quest. His true identity was revealed. Things would change. As much as he longed to go back to the simple life of patrolling the woods with you he knew that’d never be in his cards any longer. And if his life was going to change he wanted to bring the one thing that brought him comfort along for the journey as well. If he were to be king he wanted you to be his queen. No, needed you to be his queen. For a majority of his success came from you being there with him helping and guiding him.

“You love me?” You asked more to yourself than to him. When he placed his hands on your shoulders with a gentle touch you knew you were a goner. The look in his eyes was like nothing like you had seen from him, “Why me? We’ve been partners for over thirty years and… where is this coming from?”

He stopped your racing mind by running his thumb along your lower lip, ever the intimate action sending your speeding heard into overdrive, “I’ve always known. But losing you… thinking you died. It all but made me realize how daft it is to hide it away when I can tell you outright when clearly you feel the same. Am I wrong?” He smiled as he held the back of your head in his hand so gently.

“No. Certainly not wrong.” You spoke in a soft whisper. When he smiled even brighter than you had truly ever seen you had to tell him too. You’d all but implied the same feelings but you needed to let it out too, “I love you too.”

The next moments felt like a blur. He pulled you close before whispering in your ear, “The next time the nosy prince of Mirkwood is not watching I will give you a proper kiss, my lady.” It was the first time he’d called you that in all your time knowing him. A rush of warmth was felt throughout your body. It felt… right. Like you were meant to be at his side.

Once he released you from the hold he had you in you turned your head over your shoulder spotting the blonde-haired elf sitting on his horse paying much more attention to the two of you rather than whatever tale Treebeard was telling the new group.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you over the absurdity of the situation. Of all the things you thought could happen today confessing your love to the man who had you enraptured ever since you met him was the last thing you thought possible. Yet here you were. Avoiding the ever-clear eyes of your elven friend, “Damn elves.”

He nodded in agreement, “Come on, hop on.” He led you to his horse where he got you situated before he got on behind you. Slowly, he led you back to the group. You caught Legolas’ side eye knowing the he had to have heard a majority of the conversation if he wanted too. And knowing him, he wanted too.

When Strider’s horse stopped he made sure to keep his hand on you, uncaring of the curious stares from the rest of the group. He loved you. They knew it. Why should he have to hide it any further? Finally, it felt like something in this journey made sense. All he had to do now was keep you safe and destroy the ring. Simple, right?

Lord Of The Rings Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @shiftingtomydrs

403 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Circle of Stones

Aragorn & Female Reader // Aragorn & Gandalf (Platonic)

Content & Warnings: canon-typical mentions of violence, suspense/horror, supernatural elements, Sauron’s influence, ghost story, Aragorn’s POV, pre-fellowship, canon-divergence

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Requested by @stupid-little-birdie for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Targeted by a Serial Killer)

Tracking orcs across the North, Aragorn and his companion come upon a potential source to a string of mass disappearances. When a darker influence overwhelms him, Aragorn is taken to the halls of Elrond where Gandalf asks him for a favor.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Mist covers the ground, swallowing up the road ahead. Aragorn brings his horse to a stop, gaze narrowing as he observers the grey horizon. This part of the North is almost always cold and dreary, yet there is a lingering shadow beneath that stirs the nerves and dulls the senses.

"Is the town nearby?" asks Aragorn as Wess comes to a stop beside him.

Wess consults the map and nods. Moisture collects on the hood of his cloak. "Just over that hill."

Aragorn tilts his head skyward. "A storm is approaching."

Wess frowns and glances up. "Clouds are dark. We'll want to arrive before the storm does."

Aragorn spurs his horse on, the two Rangers heading for the village. The grass is muddy and soft beneath the horses' hooves, and their arrival comes with the rain. It falls steadily, bringing an extra dreariness to the small village that it doesn't need.

Word spread about people going missing in the North from tiny towns and villages. It's not unheard of but they make for easy targets. There are no walls to protect them and no guards to defend against invaders. Just a few days ago Aragorn and Wess visited a village where so many people had disappeared that only a singular family remained.

No one greets them upon their arrival. The residents remain behind their doors and windows, looking on yet poised to hide at the first sign of danger. Aragorn understands the solemn greeting. He and Wess have met the very same reluctance everywhere they've traveled.

"Are you the Rangers that have come to help us?"

Aragorn lightly tugs on the reins, bringing his horse to a stop. A woman stares back at him from under a worn hood. His heart stirs at your beauty but disperses just as quickly. Duty comes before the heart.

"We have come to do what we can," affirms Aragorn. "Whom do I address?"

You give him your name, and then gesture toward a large, two-story building in the middle of town. "We can talk in the inn. I've had a room prepared for the two of you."

Aragorn and Wess find the small stable at the back of the inn. When they enter, the inn is warm and cheery compared to the gloom outside. It seems that spirits are low but not in here.

You approach, hood pulled back, a gentle smile on your face. "I know you were expecting my father."

Aragorn removes his cloak, as does Wess, draping them over the backs of their chairs. You unclip the small clasp on yours, revealing a simple but clean dress underneath.

"Where is the Lord of this town?" asks Aragorn.

You hesitate before speaking. "Dead."

Aragorn inclines his head. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You nod, mouth a thin line. "I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances, but he is just one of many who have been taken from us over the last few weeks."

A barmaid comes over and deposits a frothy pint before each of them and a small platter of bread with cured meats and cheeses. She disappears quickly.

"We've been tracking a string of disappearances," says Aragorn.

"And it has led you here," you reply.

Wess is already shoving food in his mouth, clearly listening but far more interested in the cheese. Aragorn glances at Wess but the man doesn't appear to notice.

"It is where the trail has led us," agrees Aragorn.

Your lips purse slightly, and then you sigh as if all your bottled grief is suddenly melting.

"Tonight, you should rest. Tomorrow, there is someone I'd like you to meet."

Under a large oak tree just outside town, Aragorn listens to a young woman recount her tale.

"You are certain?" he asks as the pieces begin to fall into place.

"Aye," she affirms. "It was an orc that grabbed me while picking mushrooms. There were several of them. At least three."

"Working together?"

She nods. "Kept whispering to each other about returning to their master."

"And you weren't the only one taken?"

She visibly swallows, her eyes wet like she's about to cry. "I was put in a pen with three others. Not sure what happened to them. I just...ran when I had the opportunity. The orcs didn't follow. I don't think they even knew I was gone."

Aragorn frowns. "How far in the forest do you think you were when you escaped?"

She chews on her lip, gaze darting as she thinks. "I remember a ring of statues. Old looking. Covered in vines. They looked like lords or something. Maybe kings."

Aragorn and Wess exchange a glance. You stand off to the side, a shadow at the woman's back. Your lips are turned down in a frown, brow creased in the middle.

"Thank you," Aragorn says softly. He gently takes the woman's hands in his and squeezes, gazing into her eyes. "You've given us more than you realize."

You slowly approach the woman, placing your hands on either shoulder. "Come now. Let's get you back. Have a warm cup of tea." You give Aragorn one final glance before departing, leaving the two men alone beside the dense forest.

Wess' face is severe, his gaze focused on the wall of trees. "There is a story in these parts of dead kings buried so deep in the forest that no one would find their graves to mourn them." Wess turns his attention to Aragorn. "A circle. Plain statues. And a hole in the ground that is said to hold their corpses."

"A myth," murmurs Aragorn.

Wess grunts. "There is always truth in myth. Even if it's small."

"There is something else in these woods."

"I agree," replies Wess. "Do you think all these missing people are being taken somewhere?"

"Perhaps."

Wess tightens his cloak around him. The sky is growing dark again. "Shall we take a look?"

Aragorn enters the forest first, followed by Wess. He keeps his gaze on the ground, considering the turned soil and disturbed leaves. There is little for Aragorn to go on, but he knows the general direction in which this circle is supposed to be. Even legends and myths are recorded, and he already knows where this supposed burial ground is located.

The rain hasn't washed away everything. As the two men venture further into the forest where the trees are thicker, it's easy for Aragorn to distinguish various tracks. There are plenty of animals that travel through these parts, but there are human disturbances, and those of orcs.

A darkness has slowly creeped in across Middle-earth. It's a subtle thing, as if waiting for the perfect opportunity to plunge everything into its inky clutches.

Aragorn pauses, withdrawing his sword. Wess does the same, the two men crouching low as stone figures appear in the distance. Aragorn nods and the two men split off to either side of the circle. The air is silent and still. There are no birds or insects. Not even the soft whistle of the wind.

The bramble is thick, the bushes dense. Through the foliage, Aragorn spies Wess' form, appearing and disappearing. There is no other movement, no other presence Aragorn can pinpoint. Yet there is something, as if someone is standing directly behind him, breathing down his neck. The sensation becomes overwhelming, and Aragorn glances over his shoulder.

Nothing. Just an empty forest.

Aragorn returns his attention forward, stepping cautiously, closing in on the spot where he and Wess will meet. That sensation creeps back in, this time like two icy hands sliding over his shoulders in a cold embrace. As he exhales, his breath fogs, the air around him chilling suddenly.

Anxiousness becomes his companion, and Aragorn's feet quicken across the bramble. He circles to the other side, and Wess does not meet him.

Frowning, Aragorn straightens his legs and observes the surrounding area. There are no birds, no bugs, no sounds. Aragorn circles the small clearing, but Wess is nowhere. He studies the ground, hand hovering over the dirt and still, there is no trace of the man.

Not even footprints.

"Wess," whispers Aragorn, turning slowly. His companion does not answer. "Wess," repeats Aragorn, raising his voice.

Wess does not reply, nor does the man appear before Aragorn. The forest is silent and the statues remain solemn observers. Aragorn searches the area, inspecting the ground, only to find absence.

It is as if Wess never existed.

The icy embrace tightens to the point of suffocation. Aragorn's ribcage aches, the bones burning as if under immense pressure. He swings his sword, expecting to make contact with whatever has hold of him, but he only meets empty air.

The world darkens, consciousness slipping. He doesn't remember falling, only that the hard ground cradles his head as he stares up at the dark canopy. He cannot see the sky at all as if the trees have suddenly grown larger in the last few minutes, blotting out the grey clouds.

Drifting. And empty.

Empty.

And—

"Ranger," comes a feminine voice.

He knows that voice. He's met the woman it belongs to.

"Ranger."

Aragorn tilts his head to the side, and you appear in the dark like a candle. Your face is the last thing he sees before he slips into oblivion.

A warm dampness rests against Aragorn's brow. His eyelids blink slowly, chasing away the endless dark. Above him is a wooden ceiling. The wood warps slightly, as if his vision isn't completely clear.

"He is awake."

He knows that voice. It is your voice. The local Lord’s daughter who has taken the responsibility of everyone on your shoulders. Only a few words passed between the two of you and yet your voice is a soothing thing to him, coaxing him away from the dark.

Aragorn's head tilts in the direction of the sound. You lean against the edge of the bed, staring down at him. You smile softly and then glance away to the opposite side of the bed.

"I will shepherd him."

This voice is masculine and Aragorn does not entirely recognize it. His neck aches as he turns it, only to find a male elf with dark hair and grey eyes. Aragorn recognizes him and yet cannot place his name. It slips away from Aragorn every time he tries to reach for it.

"I am to take you home."

Home.

There are two other elves in the room that stand near the door. They watch on passively. One is a spitting image of the elf at his bedside. Twins. He knows them. Somehow.

Home. Imaldris.

That is the only explanation.

Sleep seizes him moments later, pushing Aragorn under, only to awaken in a place he hasn’t seen for several years.

He blinks, eyes burning slightly as the remanent of sleep recedes.

“Lord Elrond,” rasps Aragorn. He tries to sit up, and winces.

Elrond shakes his head and lightly places his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “Rest. Do not push yourself.”

"Wes—”

Elrond gives his shoulder a light squeeze. “There is someone here to see you.”

An old man with a generous beard and grey robes enters. There is no staff or pointy hat. Just a familiar, welcoming presence.

“Gandalf,” breathes Aragorn, some of his energy returning.

“I hope your journey was successful?”

Aragorn grimaces. “I wish I had something to tell you.”

“You’re looking much better than you were before,” says Gandalf, stepping around to the other side of the bed.

“Not unconscious?” counters Aragorn, and the wizard smiles.

“How are you feeling?”

He takes stalk of himself. Other than some aches, he otherwise feels normal and unharmed.

“Just a bit of needed rest then.”

Aragorn glances at Elrond. “You sent help.”

Elrond frowns slightly. “I foresaw a possibility.” He inclines his head. “I am glad that I did.”

“What of the village? And…Wes?”

Elrond and Gandalf exchange a glance. Gandalf sighs, face grim. “The village is empty.”

“I sent a small team to return, but they said they found no one.”

“Then I have failed in my mission.”

“No,” says Gandalf. “You did not. We know more than we did before.”

“A darkness grows,” adds Elrond. “The time of the Elves has passed.”

Gandalf glances at Lord Elrond briefly before returning his attention to Aragorn. “I am need of your tracking, friend.”

Strength is returning to Aragorn with every second that passes. The ache is dull and distance, nearly an old memory.

“I need you to depart to the Shire. I need you and your Rangers to stand guard there. Whoever you can spare. There are some…hobbits I need looked after.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @glitterypirateduck @foxxy-126

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @ferns-fics

@ninman82 @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @chaostwinsofdestruction

@weasleytwins-41 @thewulf @firelightinferno @protosslady

60 notes · View notes

leahsflwer · 2 years ago

Text

LOTR pref - Y/N being drunk and flirting with them 🫣🤪

Warnings: Not much Really.. fluff mixed with very light smut :)

LOTR characters x Reader 🌸

Aragorn -

At first he was laughing at you when you started drinking and just let you do you, but when you came over to him and started outlining his jawline he became panicked. As much as he wanted it he wouldn’t try anything while you’re drunk. So off to bed for you, don’t bother trying to say anything else because it will be a simple

“No. You’re drunk doll. Now sleep.”

Legolas -

He felt his fingers begin to tingle from the alcohol he was not used to. Only elvish alcohol was what he could take. But he was still slightly there to notice how drunk you got. You were a runaway elf, so you were used to running to different places and drinking different alcohols none like him. But he became instantly flustered when you sat on his lap and started playing with his hair. He just admired you with a smile and you both eventually passed out.

Boromir -

You never thought of him in a dirty way until that alcohol hit your system. You couldn’t take your eyes off him and it bothered you. But you couldn’t deny how good he looked and it helped you realised that you actually liked him. Making you confident enough to straddle his lap and kiss him. He would be shocked but quickly grin and melt into the kiss. Gradually pulling back and looking into your eyes.

“I’d kiss you again if you weren’t drunk love.”

Faramir -

You had your little pouch of goodies which secretly included little bottle of alcohol. Which due to the terrible state you were in with the war soon to be, you drank it. Faramir noticed you drinking and sat beside you, taking it a having the last amount for himself. But he wasn’t expecting you to grab his chin and make him look at you. You complimented his eyes and he got flustered but just laughed and thanked you for the drink.

“Now we should sleep, we have a long journey ahead of us darling.”

Merry -

He was dancing like a maniac with Pippin and only stopped when he was exhausted, leaning on the wall and closing his eyes as he laughed, trying to bring himself back together. Only to feel hands cupping his cheeks. He got shy when he saw you looking at him. You wanted a kiss and your eyes said it all but Merry knew it was was odd. But he was drunk as well so he also had a side that wanted to.

“Be careful Angel. I might have to ignore my mature thoughts and kiss you if you keep staring at me like that” he chuckles.

Frodo -

He was immediately flustered and confused when you gave him a back hug. Your lips placed a warm, yet soft kiss on his neck. It sent shivers throughout his body. You were only slight taller than him, but he liked that. Turning his head to look at you just shyly smiling, trying to laugh it off like he was all good and not panicking inside.

“H-Hey! It’s a fun.. ah.. party?” Shy king

Pippin -

Pippin already noticed how drunk you got and saw you checking him out as he danced. So right at the end he made the move by pulling you onto the table and kissing you. Merry laughing and everyone else clapping. You were drunk and were the one however to try and continue the kiss after you both got off the table. You grabbed his hand and took him to a private area, but Pippin didn’t care he kissed you until Aragorn showed up and asked you to the get a room. Cringing and ruining the moment making you both laugh.

Sam -

He was so sweet and kind. Not knowing how to feel when you started being all affectionate. He enjoyed it but was confused by it coming from you who was usually stubborn and nothing like that. He just panicked and talked about the first thing that came to his mind. Blushing anytime you got closer to him.

“Ah.. potatoes.. are- what are you! Potatoes I said.. they’re delicious, yes?”

Arwen -

She was just having fun with the group and smiled as you laid your head on her lap, playing with the lace on her dress. She loved how soft you looked in your drunk state. When you gently tugged on her dress and pulled her down to your level, she blushed and was fine until she noticed her father in the area and she shyly backed away and sat back up, shyly giggling.

Lindir -

You were a dwarf-human and he was not expecting you to actually enjoy elvish wine so much. But you did and he just admired you, leaning on the table and laughing at you as he swirled his wine around in his glass. Blushing when he felt your hand on his thigh under the table. Elrond was across the table from him and he would be in a whole lot of trouble if he got caught. He placed his hand on yours to try and stop you from moving at all. He definitely had a red face and was asked if he was alright by other elves.

“Yes. I’m quite alright Lord Elrond.”

#aragorn #lord of the rings #legolas #elrond #Arwen #samwise #lotr frodo #Baggins #lord of the rings preferences #fluff #smut

495 notes · View notes

faeriichaii · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! May I request Aragorn realising his feelings towards reader who is cold and distant and regal, and how he would try to get to know them better? Preferably male reader, but gender-neutral is fine, too. If you don’t write for either, then I’m sorry to ask. I only want you to write what you’re comfortable with. Thank you for your time.

Worthy Enough ~ Aragorn x GN!Reader

A/N: Omg I am finally back!! I'm so sorry that it took me soooo long to work on this request but work completely took over my life and I basically had no free time whatsoever- But now I have a lil vacation so I will try to work on most of my requests and push through them haha. I also am quite surprised cause this was sooooo hard for me to write (probably also cause I took a break from writing and all rip) But I still hope you like it! And lmk if you do (and lmk if you don't haha)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: tbh idk? ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 912 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ Summary: Aragorn slowly begins to understand you and tries to find out even more about you

Not even a wince left your lips as Aragorn put the green balm on top of a stab wound you received during the last battle you encountered. The only sign to let him know that the concoction stung upon your skin was the twitch of your eyebrow. Aragorn has known you for a while now. The two of you traveling far and wide until Frodo and his friends stumbled upon you. Since then, you have been wandering the lands with the purpose of destroying the ring. “How come you let the arrow struck you? Normally you are more careful than that.” Your eyes were focused on the ground, thinking about how this arrow wasn’t even meant for you.

“I guess my mind was occupied by the Orc in front of me.” Aragorn nodded at your answer. He knew that it was a lie. Normally you could handle up to three of them simultaneously, without getting your own blood spilled. So, it was a real surprise to him as he spotted you, hand on your shoulder and a slightly pain filled grimace gracing your face. Taking the gauze, he carefully wrapped the wound, making sure that it wasn’t to lose and neither too tight. A slight grunt left your lips, as you tried to rotate your arm. “Make sure to change the gauze at least twice a day.” Aragorn said, before leaving your side and joining the others for some dinner.

His thoughts were occupied by you. He knows that you tend to keep to yourself and rarely join in when it comes to conversations. This doesn’t make you less liked by the company. Quite the opposite. Sometimes Frodo takes a little stroll with you, just so he could talk to you and have you listen to his burdens or any thoughts on his mind. Legolas also quite enjoys gathering herbs with you. You’re so calm and collected, that it really helps him focus on his surroundings and get in touch easier with nature. Aragorn also can’t deny that you are his favourite partner, when it comes to keeping watch during the night. Especially as he remembers the talk of a few weeks ago.

Both of you were watching the flames dance, while keeping your ears strained for any unfamiliar noise that might signal an approaching enemy. Your sword was leaning on the log you were sitting on. “How come you let me join you?” Your voice cut through the silence, making Aragorn turn his attention from the fire to you. “What do you mean?” “You could have declined my offer when I asked you if I could accompany you. But you didn’t. Why?” He thought about your words carefully. He had declined any other offer he received of company. Of friends who wanted to join him. Of people who wanted to be by his side. But your offer seemed different to him.

“I think it was the way you asked me. You never really asked me to begin with. You joined in a brawl I unluckily got myself caught in and helped me. And since then, we have travelled together.” A hum left your lips, as you analysed his answer while watching the flames wrap around the darkness of the night. “I just had this urge to help you. It almost felt like something was calling me to your aid.” Aragorn leaned forward, intrigued in your words. “Back then I was searching for a purpose of my existence. For something I could do with my life. I had no home and neither did I have a family. It has always just been me in this godforsaken world.” A sigh left your lips. You have never opened up to someone, but it felt strangely nice.

“I fought to survive and I fought even harder for people who couldn’t defend themselves. I knew I wanted to protect people. And I knew I wanted to find someone who was in my eyes worthy enough to protect. Someone who I knew would do anything to change the world and form it into a better place.” You looked at Aragorn, a gentle smile on your lips. “I knew that when I saw you fight off these men, which caused ruckus in that tavern, that you were this one person I was meant to travel with.”

Aragorn back then was very surprised to have you open up to him. In all these years prior of you both travelling together, you never initiated any kind of deep talk with him. Especially when it came to your past. Of course, he asked in the beginning, but most times you tried to switch the topic to something else. Which is another reason, as to why he started analysing you and your decisions. He tried to understand you more and see things in your perspective. Which is why he knew exactly how you received the wound from battle.

The hours passed quickly and most of the company already went to bed, except for you and Aragorn, who decided to spend the first watch together. Your hands were behind you, supporting part of your weight while you leaned back and watched the various stars on the night sky. “I know that you lied to me.” Your attention drifted from the lights to Aragorn, who was still sitting on one of the logs by the campfire. Tilting your head, he just gave you a smile before continuing. “Thank you for deeming me worthy enough.”

#the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #fluff #the lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr movies #lord of the rings fic #lotr #middle earth #x reader #aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn x gn!reader #gn!reader #gn reader

122 notes · View notes