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backtothefanfiction · 2 months ago

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FELLOWSHIP

PART ONE OF THE GREEN LEAVES TRILOGY.

Summary: Part One follows the storyline of the Fellowship of the Ring. This is a reader insert with a name. (Apart from giving reader a Middle Earth appropriate name and some Elven features there’s no specific descriptors) Raea and Legolas have history, when an old friend calls in your help for a mission it brings up old feelings.

Warnings: 18+, light smut, angst, canon typical warnings, dodgy internet translated elvish, protective Legolas, reader insert no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.7k+

A/N: Legolas is honestly my first fictional love from this lifetime. I have wanted to write something for him for years. Seeing a prompt from @imclimbingthestairsoforthanc for more Legolas content a couple months back now really pushed me to work on something. I was just going to post this all as one, but part 2 is getting kind of long and I didn’t want to wait anymore. So I’ve divided it up by the trilogy. Anyway, I hope readers enjoy.

You had always hated Bree. It very rarely saw the sun. It was like it had its own perpetual cloud of rain falling onto the small village, its streets forever a sticky river of mud.

You tried to wipe it off of your shoes, but it was stubborn and persistent, as you made your way through the doors of the Prancing Pony, to meet the old friend who had asked for your council.

“Still sitting brooding in corners and avoiding attention I see.” You say as you sidle up to his table, finally lowering your hood.

“Still hiding your ears, I see.” He merely replies.

It’s true, of course. Ever since you fled Mirkwood after Thranduil made a show of humiliating you for being a half breed and you’d sought out refuge in your Father’s realm of men, you had always made sure to style your hair so that it covered your ears; the only physical indicator, apart from your fair complexion, that gave away your Mother’s Elven lineage.

You held the rangers dark gaze for a moment. The tension crackling between you, before you both broke out in grins.

“Raea.” He sighed in delight.

“Aragorn.” You smiled back, taking a seat at the table beside him.

“It’s been too long.” He says, reaching a hand across the table to you.

“Aye, it has.” You sigh, allowing him to take your hand in his, his thumb rubbing a comfortable greeting across the back of it, before he dropped it once more. “Tell me.” You say pleasantly, yet with an air of caution, “What ails you that you have to seek me out.”

“I have news, from a friend.”

“What friend?” You frown. You fear he means the Prince you once knew and loved, but his tone implies another.

His voice is hushed as he says, “There is an evil roaming these lands.” Your eyes grow concerned as you hold his gaze, recollecting the dark forces you sense drawing nearer, the evil who’s heavy tendrils hang thickly in the air these days, growing ever stronger.

“I have heard rumours.” You say, your voice growing lower as you lean further across the table to the dark haired man; and he you.

“They aren’t just rumors.” He cautions. “They are here- searching.” His voice says, growing urgent. “There is one.” He says lowly, allowing the raucous sounds of the tavern, mask your conversation. “One who has set out on a quest to Rivendell.”

“Who?” You frown, your body leaning even closer.

He doesn’t reply with a name, but instead looks towards a small group of Hobbits, sitting at a table the far side of the room.

“Them?” You question when you turn back towards him.

“I need you to ride ahead to Rivendell. Tell Lord Elrond.”

“But Aragorn, I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“I have not been a part of Elven society for many moons. Since before the Mayrond Star fell from the heavens.” You tried to say, growing panicked.

“I would not ask, if it were not dire.” Aragorn pressed.

Your body sagged as you conceded, your gaze falling contemplative to the table before you.

“You must go now.” He urged. “Things will happen this night and you must make haste before they are upon us. Even now as we speak, the power grows stronger.”

You meet his gaze and nod in acknowledgment. “Go now, my dear lady.” He urges once more, his hand reaching out to encompass yours in a brief yet firm squeeze of dismissal.

“Wait for us there. Lord Elrond will grant you shelter.” He attempted to reassure you as you stood.

You gave him a brief nod, raising your hood back over your head, before turning to leave; flashing a brief look to the halflings in question whose fates were to be changed forever.

———————

True to Aragorn’s word, Elrond did provide for you shelter, as you awaited the arrival of the four Hobbits and Aragorn. Upon hearing your message, Elrond’s daughter Arwen fled to help. It was she who now rode quickly back into the Elven City with one of the Hobbits held tightly to her chest. The small dark, curly haired, creature, looked sickly as the beautiful Elven princess brought her horse to a halt in the courtyard.

“What happened?” You asked frantically, as you raced to take the reigns from her, the young hobbit being pulled from atop the horse in front of her by two other elves.

“He was stabbed by one of the Nazgûl.” She replied urgently. “He is dying. He needs help.”

The frail young Hobbit, reached for something at his chest, but you didn’t get a chance to see what it was, before he was taken inside.

Aragorn arrived with the others hours later.

———————

You did not go down to the courtyard to meet Legolas or his brethren as they rode through the gates of Rivendell. Instead you merely watched from the safety of a window. But he saw you. Of course he did. He’d always said that in a sky full of stars, he would always be able to pick you out.

You hid nevertheless, yet still listened out for mention of his name amongst the circling conversations over what it was the Hobbit Frodo had brought. It was all in vain though.

His hand grasped yours, pulling you away from the pillar you had been hiding behind. You hadn’t heard him coming, his footsteps always feather light. A hunters feet.

“Why do you hide from me?” Legolas asked, pulling you into a dark alcove, his brow furrowing as he looked you over.

He had said he cared not of what his Father had said. Cared not of your parentage. If anything it had made him love you even more. Yet you had still left.

“I do not hide from you.” You replied, denial dripping out of every word.

His gaze narrowed more. You followed it as his cerulean eyes moved from your own eyes to your ears, his fingers tentatively moving to lift the carefully placed strands of hair, behind their points, instead of in front of them.

“Why do you cover them?”

“To help me fit in.”

He sighed and it was like you could see the pit that opened up within his chest. He had always been so open with his feelings.

“You should not have left.” He says softly but the statement of his words, remain.

“I could not have stayed.”

“Then you should have let me go with you.” He said, his lingering hand at the side of your face, moving to trace the lines of your cheekbones, before he cupped the soft flesh of your cheek,

You shook your head slightly, slowly pulling away from his touch as pain swimmed in your eyes. “But you could not.” You said with a faint yet pained smile, before you pushed yourself away from him completely and walked away,

———————

There was to be a meeting. Another man, Boromir, and a dwarf, named Gimli, also arriving in Rivendell, along with a greying wizard named Gandalf. As you made your way towards the veranda in which the meeting would be held, you felt a hand on your arm stop you. You looked to the fair haired elf confused.

“You will not go.” He simply stated.

His assumption and command irritated you. “What do you mean, I will not go?” You said, attempting to push past him, headed towards the door, but his grip on your bicep tightened. “Let go of me.” You said trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

His blue eyes were fixed on you, a sense of steel behind them. Still after all this time a need to protect you, even though he had been the one to train you, to teach you all that he knew. “You will not go,” he said again,

“You don’t own me.” You snapped at him, “You do not control me or what I do.” You said, trying to pull your arm from him again to attend the meeting.

He pulled at your arm tighter, whirling you around and pinning your back to the wall behind you both. “I will not have you be a part of this. You have been pulled into this enough already. If you go. If you pledge yourself as I intend to pledge, my bow, my life, I will not be able to fight the way I need to.” He said, that hard stare, boring into you. The care behind it for you, his need to keep you safe from harm, making you soften slightly and you stopped fighting his firm grip on your arm,

“Please,” he urged, his voice growing softer as he leaned into you, “I did not fight your decision when you left my Father’s kingdom. When you,” his voice grew quiet as he mustered the energy to fight through the pain of the reality of his words, “when you decided to leave me. Please, do not fight me on this. Let me protect you.” You didn’t fight him as he lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes closing.

There was a long pause as you savoured the feeling of his skin on yours after so long. “Okay.” You finally but reluctantly gave in. He lifted his head to look at you. “Okay.” You said again and his tension seemed to ease.

———————

They were due to set out at sunrise. Your bed, that once felt soft, comforting and safe in the confines of Elrond’s kingdom, now felt hard, uncomfortable, cold and far too spacious; as you turned back and forth and back again, unable to sleep. Fear and worry marred your gut. You hated that you would not go. Not help keep your friends safe. That the man you once loved so dearly, would shut you out from this for your own safety. The man you used to fight side by side with, trained with day in and day out, now thought this one mission too threatening to your lives he would have you sit out. Once loved? Or still loved?

The moment you laid eyes on him again, that ache in your chest consumed you, wanting to split you into two.

You would not, could not, let him just leave like this, on a quest that you knew only excited him due to the challenge and risk to his life. The only thing that could make his immortal life feel more alive.

You ripped the sheets from your body, wrapping yourself in a velvet robe and left your room to seek out his. The sky was starting to turn grey with the first light when you knocked on the door. You knew he was already up. Had heard him through the wood, grunting and panting as he did his usual morning exercise.

When he opened the door, he didn’t look completely surprised by your presence. When your eyes silently narrowed in question, he said, “I heard your feet come to a stop outside the door near 5 minutes back.”

“What and you didn’t think to just come open the door?” You questioned, stepping past him into the room.

“I wanted to see if you would have the courage for yourself to knock. Or if you would decide it a bad idea and go back to bed.” He breathed, closing the door behind you.

You sighed as you made yourself at home on his bed. He seemed to swallow slightly but you paid it no mind, “I couldn’t sleep.” You explained.

“Naun gohena nin-“ he began to say. I’m sorry I…

“Don’t.” You cut him off. There was pain in your eyes. Great sorrow for all that had been. Everything you had had together, that you walked away from in fear, because you didn’t think yourself good enough for him. Because you believed his Father.

He stepped across the room to you. His hand lifting to cup your cheek. “*amman car-dh *gwanna.” Why did you leave?

You shrugged him off. “Law iston.” I don’t know. “Not anymore.” You breathed as he sat himself beside you. “I feared what your father said was true. I would never be good enough for you. A Prince?”

“I have not been that in a long time. You know that.”

“But I should not have been the thing that made you step away from that.”

“You weren’t. I did it for me.”

“Do not lie.” You sighed, as you suddenly rose from the bed. This had been a mistake.

You froze as his hand reached out for your arm, forcing you to stop, to look at him- to hear him out. “I do not lie. Would never lie.” He said, a hard look in his eye. Was that really how you saw him. “You know I never aligned with my Father’s views. Would never align with them. That’s why he sent me away, in hopes it would change my mind- but instead I found you- and my resolve grew stronger.”

You both grew quiet, realising you had come to an impass.

Knowing you were unable to come to an agreement on that truth, you decided to pull from him another. “You do not think you will return.” You all but confirm from the sorrowful look that now seemed to penetrate his eyes. A look that spoke volumes to times lost.

“I plan to do all that I can for the cause. We head to dangerous lands and I long swore an oath to protect.” He says, finally releasing his hold on your arm.

“And what of the oath you made to me.”

When he looked to you, tears were beginning to well in your eyes. It broke his heart, his hands instinctively reaching out to you. “I did not think you wished me to keep it.” He confided in a whisper. “But if you wish me to, I shall. If you wish me to return to you, I shall.”

You didn’t know what to say. He was your everything. Your first and only love. A part of you would always be at home with him. Would only be complete with him at your side. With him standing before you now, you hadn’t realised how much you had missed him being there.

“Don’t make any more promises you cannot hope to keep.” You said, your eyes dropping to the floor. “You already said,” you continued, pulling yourself away from his grasp, “if I were with you on this journey, you would not be able to do what you need to- whether I am physically with you, or just in here.” You placed a gentle finger to his temple and his head softened and turned towards your touch.

You both knew you were right. Neither one of you spoke as you began to walk slowly back towards the door, unable to say goodbye. As you turned your body towards the door to reach for the door handle, you suddenly felt him at your back, his hand tugging at your own to pull you back into him. As your body turned, his lips latched themselves onto yours. His kiss was desperate, deep and filled with a longing that could span lifetimes.

You didn’t question it, the familiarity melting over you like the rays of the sun on a summers afternoon, warm and inviting. He lifted you effortlessly from the ground as his lips continued to move against yours, both desperate, yet long and drawn out to savor every moment. You wrapped your legs tightly around him as he began to lead you back to his bed. You didn’t have it in you to fight him anymore.

It all happened between a few heated breaths and desperate touches, suddenly you were free of your robe as he lay you back upon his bed. Although it had been many a year since you had last lay together, with the familiarity you still had with one another’s bodies, anyone would think it had been no time at all.

He parted from you so that he may lift his loose fitting tunic from his head as you sat up, fingers racing to undo the strings of his slacks.

Once fully naked, he leant down to latch his lips onto yours once more, but quickly parted again as he reached for the bottom of your robe, lifting it up your body and over your head, before it too was thrown onto a heap on the floor with the rest of his clothes.

The sex was desperate and quick. There was still so much neither of you had said. Each unspoken word and feeling from your time apart turned to tension that sizzled and snapped like the embers of the dwindling fire on the far side of the room. You moaned with the stretch of him, whimpered and shuddered when his lips tried to soothe you through every pounding thrust of his hips.

When you had lay together in the past it was usually tender, soft and slow, some may even say you were making love, but this, this was a different kind of fucking entirely- and you loved it.

As you both finished, he rolled off of you, both of you now laying on your backs in a sweaty mess, all angst from your previous conversation completely forgotten. As you both lay there panting and cooling down, you ran a hand through your hair before you looked at him, but his eyes were fixed to the ornate carvings across the ceiling.

You stared at his must hair. Watched as his piercing blue eyes traced the line on the ceiling above, as he silently thought.

“I want you to tie my braids.” He finally said.

His words stopped you in your tracks. You couldn’t help but blink in disbelief. Elven braids weren’t just to look pretty and keep all that beautiful flowing hair out the way. They were a statement. To have a partner do your braids for you to go off to battle, was almost a marriage ritual in itself.

When you didn’t say anything, he finally turned his head to look at you. You couldn’t help but fixate on all the whispy strands of his golden hair that stuck themselves to the pillow behind his head and stuck up in every which way.

“I want you to tie my braids.” He said again, as if you hadn’t heard him the first time.

“No.” You suddenly cut in. “No.” You said, shaking your head and closing your eyes before swiftly scrambling over him to get off the bed.

“Raea.” He tried to call after you as you reached for your night gown from the floor and placed it back on.

“No.” You said again as you picked up your robe and placed your arms back through the velvety sleeves. “No, you can’t ask that of me.”

“Why not?” He asked in that husky and breathy tone of his that always seemed to make tingles flow down your spine.

“You know very well why not.” You said, wrapping the ties of the robe around your waist and fastening them tightly in a knot. You sighed as your hands found a home on your hips and you turned to him exasperated.

“Has there been another for you?” He asks, sitting on the bed, still naked, hands resting on his thighs as he looks at you.

It takes you a moment to answer. You have indeed slept with other men on your travels since him, but you know that’s not what he means. He’s asking you if you have ever loved anyone else. “No.” You finally reply timidly. There’s another moments pause before you ask him the same question. “What about you? Has there ever been anot-“

You haven’t even finished the question before he’s standing and walking towards you as he says “No.”

He comes to a stop before you, reaching out to take your hands in his and you can’t help but seem to relax at his touch. “I want you to tie my braids.” He says again tenderly. “So that I may take you with me. To remind me to return to you.”

In another life time you would have said yes. Would have jumped for joy at his proposal, but you know how important this is. You know what this truly means. You know what happened to make you part. Know all that is still yet to be put right. Can still clearly see the things you have come to resent about him reflected in his eyes.

You shake your head, “No.” you whisper with tears in your eyes. When you slowly begin to back away, only letting your fingers slip from his when you are no longer in his reach, he lets you.

When you wake again three hours later, they are already gone.

———————

Waiting for news after their departure was torture. Talk of what they had set out to do was limited, not many made aware of the task set for the small company; but when it did come, Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen made sure you were kept in the know.

Once the Fellowship had left, they had insisted on you continuing to stay with them. You had no doubt it had something to do with Aragorn’s wishes. You were grateful for the company. Grateful for the luxury. You trained with their guards most mornings to keep you in condition and stimulated. In the afternoons you took walks with Arwen talking fondly of your adventures over the years with the heir of Gondor.

However as the days passed you grew reckless. Never in your life had you stayed in one place for so long. When the news finally reached you of Gandalf’s departure from the company, you wasted no time in saddling a horse and making ready to ride out to join them.

You knew what Legolas had said. You also had heard news of the Orc forces growing. But you couldn’t sit back and do nothing anymore. Despite Arwen’s protests you were reluctantly allowed to leave.

———————

You rode hard and fast through the days and made strategic camp through the night. After what felt like weeks of travelling you finally reached Lothlórien, where you were taken in by the Lady Galadriel and her company. When you reached the wood, you were surprised to find their guard already awaiting you. It turned out Lord Elrond had contacted the Lady of the Wood and asked her to watch over you.

Being in the wood had a strange restorative power that called to your Elven heritage. The soft breeze through the trees and song in the ripples of the waters that flowed through it made you feel peaceful and rejuvenated as you slept. They insisted you stay three days. On that final day, you wished that you hadn’t.

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@imclimbingthestairsoforthanc @starlight5cat @lillisummers

#Legolas #Legolas x reader #reader insert #Lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the fellowship of the ring #lotr fellowship #legolas fanfiction #Orlando bloom characters

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breelandwalker · 6 months ago

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The Witchstorian Is Down For The Count

Okay so full disclosure, y'all - I may have caught the Rona again. It's hard to tell because it's been a few days so the test was inconclusive and my symptoms are outside the normal lot. (Although I've been told that the main indicators of the new Omicron strain match what I'm dealing with - continuous migraine, crushing fatigue, vertigo, body aches.)

I'm currently taking a little time off of work so I can heal and not spread this around, but the bills are stacking up, the cats need to be fed, and we don't get paid again until the end of the month.

So if anybody wants something from the shop, now would be an EXCELLENT time to place an order! (I'll wait until my symptoms fade to pack things, just for safety. Hopefully it'll just be a few more days.) And if you let me know here on tumblr that you made a purchase, I'll slip a little something extra in with your goodies!

Hope you're all keeping well and staying safe! Remember to wash your hands, get your boosters if you can, and keep practicing safe hex!

#bree in real life #witch community #witchblr #witch shop #Willow Wings Witch Shop #sick day posting #witchy things

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gotham-ruaidh · 1 year ago

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thermodynamics - a 7x03 story

Ian had been gone from camp for some time – his departure had been rather sudden, following a brief but promising glimpse of pheasants in the treetops – but not too long to start worrying.

Had they pushed harder this morning, they would have made it out of the forest by nightfall. But tonight would be another night sleeping rough beneath the trees.

Claire didn’t mind.

That afternoon, as she unpacked the saddlebags and gathered wood for the campfire – Jamie within earshot, speaking in Gaelic to the horses as they drank from a nearby spring – she realized why.

For months – since the fire, the loss of her children and grandchildren, even the whole terrible night with the Browns and the even more terrible aftermath – a small, pinching weight had settled between her shoulderblades. A low, dull ache that no herb or gentle massage could cure.

Psychosomatic, to be sure – but that didn’t make the weight of it any less crushing.

But today, as she bent to gently set down an armful of branches for their fire and stood up, reaching to soothe the ache that she knew would be there…it wasn’t.

She puzzled it out as she continued about her chores. Finding the skillet and spices and knife for cooking; digging out hers and Jamie’s bedroll and setting it half behind a bush; worrying the pouch full of gold bullets sewn within her pocket.

It was the first time in years – since they’d come to the Ridge, really – that she hadn’t had some kind of schedule. Free to take an extra day to get to Wilmington. Free to wander, to explore glades and caves and stop to admire especially large trees.

Free to spend more time with Jamie. Not just in the evenings over dinner or before bed, but to share all moments of the day. Sharing space, and food, and sights, and smiles.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder – and she startled.

“Hush, a nighean,” Jamie soothed. “I’m sorry, I thought ye had heard me.”

Swallowing, she turned to face him. Touched his stubbly cheek with the back of a hand. Worrying the new fine lines at the creases of his eyes.

“It’s all right.” Her voice just above a whisper. “I missed you.”

A fleeting half smile, his hands enveloping her free hand, squeezing. “I told ye I wouldnae go far. I didn’t.”

He knew what she would do even before she did – and he was ready, lips soft and strong as she kissed him.

“I miss you.”

He drew her closer, arms locked around her waist. “We’ve time, before Ian returns…”

Her lips just lightly touched his, beath warm against his mouth. “You must feel it. The need. How strong it is.”

He swallowed, nodding. Touched a small spot in the middle of his chest. “Right here.” His hand settled on her stomach, above her navel. “And here.”

She nodded. “It’s always there, but…more now. Like when we were on the road.”

His hand glided up, tracing the buttons of her shirt, settling on the cool skin of her neck. Eyes locked on hers. Watching her lips part in a small gasp.

He smiled. “Gathering your wee herbs. We fooled nobody – no’ Dougal, or Ned, or Murtagh, or Rupert. Willie, maybe. But I didna care. I had to have you.” Leaned in for a quick kiss. “I wanted your body, but I craved your heart. I have it now, aye?”

Another quick kiss. “I didn’t think I could ever feel this again. Is it because we have lost everything else?”

Frowning, he pulled back a bit. “What are you saying? We haven’t, Claire.”

“We have.” Her hands skimmed his shoulders – worried a new tear in the back of his shirt that she’d need to mend later – eyes fixed on a tree behind him. “We’ve lost our home, our family, our responsibilities. Our routine. No more farming or whisky making for you. No more patients for me. No more waiting for Missus Bug’s dinner, or sitting with you in your study as you talk to the tenants. No more…” She cleared her throat. “No more reading with Bree and Jem by the fire.”

High above, a hawk cried out.

“Don’t hide from me. Look at me, please.”

She didn’t want to – but she did. Found his eyes shining with the same tears.

“Do you no’ remember what I said to you once? That nothing is lost, only changed, Claire.”

She did remember – a night in these same woods, not too long after enduring yet another loss.

“We haven’t lost our memories. Our family isnae wi’ us right now, but they’re alive and safe. Our tenants can bide wi’out us for a while, but we’re coming back. When we’re in Wilmington, and in Scotland, you’ll have patients again and I’ll find my way again. Changes, aye, but not losses.”

He brought his forehead against hers. “I haven’t lost you, Claire. You haven’t lost me.”

She closed her eyes, nodding.

“I can’t even bear to think about what’s to come. If I was to lose you on the crossing.”

“Dinna think of it.” He kissed her cheek.

She shifted slightly and found his mouth in another kiss.

Another kiss.

“We’ve time afore Ian returns wi’ supper, a nighean. That is, if you’re not too decrepit to lie wi’ me in the leaves.”

She smiled against his lips. “I’ll grab a blanket.”

When Ian returned with a pheasant, sometime later as dusk settled in the forest, he frowned that the fire had not yet been started. But he lit it, set to work plucking the bird, sorted the spices and knives. Knowing his auntie and uncle would be quite hungry.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #outlander 07x03

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xanadontit · 4 months ago

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Dear Care and Feeding.

My husband and I have a delightful, inquisitive 4-year-old daughter, “Bree,” who has a nut allergy. We have been able to manage this fairly well, but the problem is my in-laws. They were careless about nuts to the point that we had to stop coming over to their place. My father-in-law keeps a bowl of peanuts or trail mix on the end table next to the couch, and never remembered to remove them before we arrived for a visit. Even worse, my mother-in-law believes Bree’s allergy is something she will outgrow over time and even thinks she can be “cured” if she is exposed to nuts in small doses, because she read about people overcoming allergies through exposure therapy on the internet. After Bree nearly ate some peanut butter M&M’s my FIL forgot to put away on our last visit to my in-laws’ place I put my foot down. I said until they were willing to take my daughter’s safety more seriously, we would not be coming over to their house. My husband grumbled that he thought I was overreacting, but went along with it. My in-laws were very chilly for a couple of weeks, but eventually agreed to the new arrangement.

I thought we had resolved the problem, but I was wrong. When my in-laws visited our home last month, I left Bree watching TV with her grandmother while I went to check the mail. I came back to find my MIL in a panic, my FIL on the phone with 911, and Bree on the floor nearly purple and gasping …

I realized she was having an allergic reaction and immediately gave her a shot with the EpiPen I carry with me at all times. Within several heart-stopping minutes Bree was breathing better. The EMTs came and took her to the hospital in an ambulance while we followed behind.

While we were waiting for the doctors to update us at the hospital, my MIL told me she had given Bree a small piece of a Snickers bar. She said she thought Bree could overcome her nut allergy if she ate a little each day. My husband had to practically hold me back. I shouted at her that she had nearly killed my daughter and as far as I was concerned, we were done with both her and my FIL. My MIL huffed that she was only trying to make it so Bree could have a normal life and stalked out of the hospital with her husband on her heels.

It’s been over a month now, and my husband has been trying to facilitate a reconciliation between us. He acknowledges that what his mother did was wrong and dangerous, but still tries to defend her by saying “that’s how she is,” and pointing out that she never intended to harm Bree. I have told him that I will never be able to trust his parents around our daughter again. His mother hasn’t even so much as apologized. He thinks I am being too harsh and am taking this too far. Please tell me I’m not.

—Am I Nuts?

Dear Nuts,

No, you are neither being too harsh nor taking this too far. You made it abundantly clear to your in-laws what the rules were regarding your daughter and her allergies. Because they read too much online baloney and like to imagine they know better than anyone else, they broke them on purpose, put her life at risk, and don’t even seem to feel that bad about it. They suck! You are right and he is wrong. I hope this makes you feel better.

But it does you no good to feel better now and still have your husband claiming you’re overreacting, even in the aftermath of your child nearly dropping dead. It does you no good to be the lone voice in the wilderness. You need him on your side.

It’s possible that he finds your daughter’s nut allergy so frightening—and it is frightening!—that he’s desperate to grasp at any straw that suggests she might “get over it.” Combine that with an unwillingness to confront his parents, and you might have a dad who’s feeling just torn enough not to know how to handle this mess. Sit down with your husband and explain exactly how you feel about what his parents did, and how you feel about how he is not supporting you—or, honestly, even protecting his own daughter. Feel free to wave a printout of this advice column to help make your case.

Maybe, down the line, you’ll decide together to reintroduce his parents into their granddaughter’s life. (I know it feels like you never will want to, but there are such wonderful rewards for a child in having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents.) If so, there will be conditions, and whatever those conditions are, he’d better be on board for conveying them, in no uncertain terms, to his amateur-immunologist parents—and making clear to them that there will be no divergence from those rules.

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

I'm sorry but what the FUCK is Dan Kois' problem? The dad/husband fucking sucks which tracks because he comes from fucking sucky stock and I'm failing to understand what "wonderful rewards" await this poor child from "having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents" unless he means "heavenly rewards" because they seem intent on killing their granddaughter.

Can you imagine being this kid?

"Hey, Mom, why did you let Grandma and Grandpa around me? They were constantly feeding me peanuts and I ended up in the hospital every Christmas."

"Oh, a complete moron advice columnist said it would be good for you. Somehow. Hey, you were great at calling 911 and not all kids can say that!"

ETA: And what's with all the sympathizing with the dad because he's just so sad his kid has an allergy and doesn't know what to do?! You don't let the kid eat peanuts/peanut products and you keep the kid away from people who purposely do that. He doesn't need to get an MD and cure food allergies for all of mankind. Christ.

Would love to hear @sequinedably's thoughts on this one.

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 7 months ago

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So I will say it would might be hard but what about Harriet as the Rusted Knight stand in. Spending years dealing with guilt and horror of her willing to nuke a city just because she was told too. She could call the Lighting Trailer or something.

(Fun fact! When initially thinking about the major plot threads for the Sharc AU, I was actually going to have Harriet fall into the Ever After, find the time fruit and become the Juniper of the Sharc Universe. I have since decided against that, and feel safe sharing it.)

Blake: My Gods! It's the-

The Galvanic Squall: You kids have been getting up to a lot, huh?

Blake: Y- Yeah? Wait, how do you know we've been up to stuff?

Yang: Have you been watching us or-

The Galvanic Squall: That was one of the things I was meant to do, among all the other-

The Woman wrenches her face mask down while pulling off her goggles and hood.

Harriet Bree stood before them, her face wrinkled with old scars covering her face and ears, her hair pulled back into a mess of cable-like dreads, all streaked with dull gray and Electric Yellow.

Harriet: A Shit that Ironwood was ordering us to do- What the fuck happened!

Ruby: HARRIET?

Harriet: Yes! HELLO! I've been stuck here for-Fucking-ever!

Harriet: I mean, fuck I lost count after about the second month here, but I've been looking for- look, what was the last thing that happened to you?

RWBY: *Share worried looks*

Harriet: Okay, I get it, I'm in rough shape, just answer, alright!?

Weiss: uhm ... We only woke up here a day ago. before getting here, We evicted Atlas and Mantle to Vacuo using the Staff of Creation.

Harriet: Uh huh, Caused Atlas to sink, I'm aware.

Blake: Cinder Fall and one of her Cronies followed us into the In-between, and made us fall.

Harriet: Yep. I was Running Civies to the exit because Flame Girl and Polendina were fighting.

Yang: We all got knocked down here, obviously, and Salem got the Relic, but we know she doesn't have the maiden powers.

Harriet: Well. That doesn't sound great.

Ruby: Well, Neo, 'Cinder's Crony' fell with us. She hates my guts and ... It ... isn't good. Penny died. For real this time, no rebuilding, no recovering she's just ... gone.

Harriet: ... Oh. I- I uh.

Harriet: Wow. That's- I'm sorry. I know you two were close- she would never shut up- Er, Stop talking about you.

Ruby: We've all lost people. We can't sit around feeling sorry for ourselves. You Didn't.

_WBY: *look worriedly between each other and Ruby, who doesn't notice*

Harriet: Yeah, Well, I did my best to. Hell, I figured out how to dye my hair, gave me something to do while I waited.

Harriet: Also if you see a technicolor Cat, Don't Trust it. A couple kids Ran through years back and uh ... I couldn't find them. They just disappeared. If that Girl hadn't poisoned me I'd be certain they were just delusions.

Blake: A Girl? Was her name Alyx?

Harriet: *Squinting Suspiciously at Blake* ... How'd you know that?

Yang: It's a Book. The Girl that Fell Through the World. It's a classic!

Weiss: But there was only Alyx in the Story.

Harriet: The girl I met had a Brother. Lewis, and he was a lot more nervous and forward-thinking. And a hell of a lot more level headed. Lewis could stub his toe on a rock and he'd apologize to it. Alyx would stub her toe and make a guillotine for whatever tripped her up.

Blake: It sounds like we have a lot to talk about. Uh, do you have a place to stay or ...

Harriet: Yeah, I've got a cottage, let's move out.

Weiss: Well I'm glad you're not angry at us.

Harriet: Well, if it means anything ... I think you did the right thing standing up to the General. I know I made a mistake listening to him. *She beings walking*

Harriet: Come on, we might make it before sundown.

#rwby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #harriet bree #the galvanic squall #alternate rusted knight #rwby au

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ramdom-stupid-sketches-of-mine · 4 months ago

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My coral island farmer OC, Fazlyn Dirynhai Base on the convo, interaction and behavior , these are her character I came up with all info i have at the time. So Imma gonna put it here for the record for future reference?? since the game have presented main personality through text, context and subtext a lot. I need to keep track of her somehow. [contain SPOILERS about questline/heart scene, convo, interaction] Here I go.

She likes starfruit. (; Luke Convo)

She can eat raw vegetables like eggplants. (; Luke and Raj Convo)

She likes making joke and puns. (; Interact with people's room and shop)

She can be 'respectful', rarely. (; Interact with Mollie's closet)

She talks a lot, even with someone she barely know. (; Leah and Mark convo)

She's yogi (; Ben convo)

She likes romantic homey dinner kind of date. (; Answer Pablo Question)

She likes eating flower than admiring one. (; Answer Scott Question)

She can be unintentionally flirt sometimes, but it just being nice in that case. (; Answer Mark Question)

She usually collapsed at night from exhaustion (; Behavior)

She worked in art field before. (; Answer Zarah Question)

She likes gossip, sometimes, of course *wink* (; Bree convo)

She can drink alcohol in little amount (; Scott's heart scene)

She likes horror movie(; Rafael's heart scene)

Other info about her.

She remembered Alice and Lily when she arrived. (; Alice and Lily favorite shown since we arrived to the town, before the farmer spoke to both of them.)

She didn't remember Nina, but they were childhood friends. (; Nina's questline)

Her name isn't her given name. (; Raj Convo). // I came up with the story that her legal name come from her nickname and her old first name, it started from she had the same name with her classmate. So, she's the one with the nickname for convenience. Then after that she kept found the incident recurring a lot, so she changed her nickname to her legal name for good. Her old first name is Lyn.

Speaker in Luke's shop is easily broken, she used to buy that speaker's brand before and it's broken in 6 months. (; Interact with top right shelf in Luke's shop.)

She also owned a clock like the one Luke sells back in Pokyo. (; Interact with bottom left shelf in Luke's shop.)

She tasted Betty's soup without permission. (; Interact with the pot in Betty's kitchen.) [imo, i want to smack her hand for that.]

Her vow in her wedding with Luke was 'Luke, a lifetime is not long enough for me to wake up every morning next to you.' (; Married day, obviously.)

Anddddd, these are my headcanons for this character. Just base on my random guess and thoughts.

She was closer to Alice than Suki when they were kids.

At some point, I think Nina, Luke, and farmer had played together, but it just 1-2 times, so only Nina can remember that. Since Luke is too young to remember the farmer and haven't been contacted with, and the farmer played with Nina more than Luke and she still didn't remember her, she doesn't good with remembering and such.

Suki, Alice, Nina, Lily and the farmer was a childhood friend group.

She hadn't talked with Tavern siblings or blacksmith brother before, from the first convo they had.

Her hair and her blue eyes come from her mother side, her mother is from San franciskyo

Her grandparents who owned the farm are on her father side, so they should be Indonesian(?).

Her parents met in Pokyo and she grew up there. That's the reason she had Pokyo accent from Leah's convo.

Her first talk with Taco, the dialog is like, '[He smells a lot like Luke]', but she hadn't speak with Luke at that point. So, she kinda buffled a bit. 'Wait, who's Luke??'

Her first rescuer for collapsed after 2 AM is Luke, I remember this because it's happened in 2nd Spring in the Year 1. So, in Year 2, the farmer gave him the locket that day, 2nd Spring.

2nd Spring in Year 3, she changed her hair as celebration of sort?? idk, it's pretty coincidence. I just wanted to change something a bit about the hair and just noticed that it that day. huh.. Wonder what will happend if I continue playing until next year.

#spoilers #coral island spoilers #coral island #coral island oc #coral island farmer #for future reference comic or so

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ficnoire2 · 10 months ago

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A Little Legendborn/Bloodmarked Top 10 (Spoilers Ahead)

Happy Black History Month! As we approach the release of the extended Bloodmarked chapter and the Will POV (as well as the painful wait for Oathbound), I thought I’d compile a list of my top 10 favorite Bree moments from LB and BM. I have always enjoyed lists and trivia of some sort and thought it would be fun to highlight some of my favorite moments from the series. These are the moments that made me shout into my book with joy, frustration, delicious vengeance, and squeal with pure giddiness. I am sure there are many more to add, but these are ten scenes that hit for me. Hope you enjoy!

10. Punching a Demon

“The demon stands, snarling in a flash of triumph, lifting Nick high–then slams him into the silver stone. His body goes still. I’m running. I barrel into the demon just as Sel swings Nick’s sword. Together, we send the body in one direction, and the head in another.”

Well come on then fearless Scorpio KING!!! I loved this moment because it gave us a glimpse into what was to come from our Bree. Before she knew the extent of her power she was hurling herself into the thick of it. It also gave us a sneak peak into her partnership and power sharing with Selwyn as well. This scene made me excited to see what else our King was truly capable of.

9. Threatening Aldrich

“You may have a King’s blood - Aldrich finds my gaze and holds it–but you are not a Scion. You are…a camgymeriad. A mistake.”

To which Bree replies,

“Aldrich! I call. He pauses at the door to look at me. I let the grin spread slow across my face. Not here, Not today. But somewhere. Someday.”

I loved this call back from the prologue in Bloodmarked when Jessie describes the smart ass at the diner with the slur written across his face. We get a glimpse into the darker parts of Bree, the parts of her that enjoy the challenge, the fight. It also showed that if the good ol’ boys club doesn’t have anything, they have audacity. Imagine being in her presence and because she does not come in the package you want her in, she is deemed unworthy. Brought into this life because of mediocrity, brutality, and privilege. To be deemed a mistake because her very being is too grand and unfathomable to comprehend. I love the grin she gives him. It screams “Fuck around and find out” and I am looking forward to Bree making good on this promise.

8. Hitting Sel Where it Hurts

“Throwing a temper tantrum, crossroads child? I spit. Both of Sel’s dark brows fly up to his hairline, and red spots appear on his cheeks. Direct hit.”

I cackled when I read this! Not to mention Sel was so pissed he was slamming doors off in the distance. Anytime Bree gets in touch with her shadow side and employs psychological warfare, I squeal (just a tiny bit). It was one of those scenes that made me say “That’s what your ass gets!” Which was mild in comparison to Sel trying to, oh I don’t know, KILL HER! No matter how scary he was at the moment, the fact that she couldn’t help but toy with him was a masterclass in being with the shits.

7. Embarrassing Vaughn (with his basic ass)

“You’re a bigot and a bully, Scheafer. You insult me because you think you know what I am capable of, but you don’t. I must make you nervous, though, for you to expose your insecurities about your odds of success in the tournament…”

“I grin at Vaughn and look him directly in the eye. Our future king does not owe you an explanation, and behaving as though he does displays insubordination, disloyalty, and fear. Not power. Not strength. In fact, I pity the Scion that chooses you as their Squire. That is, if you get chosen at all.”

DAAAAAMMN HOMIE! Talk about reading for filth! As you can tell, I love when Bree pipes up. Vaughn mustered up all that tiny dick energy to lunge himself across the table and the baby girl didn’t even get out of her chair. The constant microaggressions, the persistent air of “She doesn’t belong here” primed Bree to get some things off of her chest at this moment and what better asshole, than Vaughn (who was mesmered into obscurity) to get all the smoke? I have lived moments similar to this, when you just don’t care anymore. The weight of decorum becomes too heavy and it's time to “Let them thangs go” as we used to say back in the day.

6. Sexy Bloodwalk with Nick/ Kissing Sel

Nick

“His eyes snap open and lock with mine, pupils swallowed in silver. “Yeah.” He nods, wraps a hot palm around the base of my neck, slides it up into my hair. “Yeah.” And then his mouth is on mine, and every call and response we’ve ever felt pales in comparison to this one. Power cycling from his body to mine in a slow loop between his skin and mine. Everywhere we touch speeds the rotation until I can’t tell whose breath is whose, whose flame arcs higher, which spark starts the fire that surrounds us. He moans, tugging us to the ground. I open my eyes –and see that the stars over his shoulder shine in our rhythm too.”

Well, shit. There was a lot to unpack in this passage. Lots of metaphors. Were they…? Whatever freaky dreamscape, bloodwalk, Camelot, ancient descendent sex magic was going on here, I was here for it. I had to read it again to make sure I read it right, and yup, I did! The euphoric, cosmic otherworldliness of it all was so carefree and light. As @justbrainrot says “They were high in Camelot!” I love that this scene takes place after Sel hides his true face and she decides to go see her other man! Came back so bathed in “Love” Selly had to roll all the windows down!

Sel

“Well,” I say, biting my lip. “Maybe it’s not enough for me. Before I can respond, I pull his head down and press my mouth to his indignant scowl until it turns soft and warm. He shudders against me. Then, his palm wraps around the nape of my neck, turning the kiss fierce, his mouth open and hot. He pulls me in by the hip, closer, a pulse building between us, a shared demand. There’s a whoosh, movement, and I am against a tree, bark digging into my back, Sel’s mouth working against mine before he tears himself away entirely with a low groan.”

These two love a good hand on the nape of the neck! I always enjoy the parallels Tracy creates. Nick’s tenderness (even though he had Bree on the floor looking at the stars over his shoulder) in Camelot juxtaposed with Sel, Merlin crip walking her against the tree was delicious. The hint of feral lust out there in the woods was perfection and I love that Bree made the first move. Lots of world tilting and hot mouths and passing fire and heat and moans and shit! Bree leaning into her light and dark side letting herself be loved on and loving on someone else. Taking charge and going after what she wants (in the moment or otherwise). Reckless girl indeed.

5. At the Fair with Faye

“Inside the box my mother’s charm bracelet is pulsing like a heartbeat. When the tips of my fingers touch the gold links, a voice echoes in my mind.”

“Bree…”

“I drop it. I’m gasping, choking, sobbing. ‘Mommy…?’”

This was a hell of a scene. The gravity of a mother understanding that she has limited time with her child. Understanding that she will face terrifying peril while trying to give her as much covering as possible, without being there in the physical form to facilitate that protection was beyond heavy. Listening to Faye nervously try to get it all out without alarming Bree, the desperation in her voice…heartbreaking does not cover it. I adored the power in this scene because despite Faye knowing the hell her baby would go through, she wanted her to know that if she had to do it over again, she would. It helps me understand some of Bree’s choices that will inevitably come with dire consequences. When it comes to fight or flight, Bree is going to fight. It’s in her blood.

4. Root Sharing

“I take in a deep breath through my nose, and when I exhale, the flames of root blow to life in my hands, red and fierce. I extend my hands before I can talk myself out of it. Sel’s eyes rise to mine, drop to my fingertips, then back up to me. I will him to understand, because I don’t know how to say what I want him to do. I don’t know how to ask for this, don’t even know if it will work.”

This moment had me on the edge of my seat. I am one of those that shouts at the screen when I watch movies and I was shouting into the pages of this book. I was STRESSED. I knew they couldn’t go out like that, but I didn’t know how they were going to get out of this pickle. The description of Sel looking at her like “Oh shit!” and then going with it! They were in tandem. Bree was in her bag here pouring her very being into Sel. It was a show of force that let us know she has only scratched the surface of what she can do. This was squeal worthy for me!

3. Escaping the Institute

“A release of breath through the earpiece. ‘Crown Scion Matthews.’ A voice I don’t recognize. I grasp the counter’s edge, swallowing. ‘Y-Yes.’ The voice turns muffled, like they’re facing away from the receiver. ‘It’s her.’

‘Who are you?’

When they speak again, the voice is clear. Confident. ‘Someone who can create a five-minute window of escape for you…’

‘Someone you can trust.’”

My number three moment takes me back to any film I’ve watched where the heroes were down and all seems lost. An expertly crafted switcheroo, caper, great escape! The hurried tone of the person on the other end of the earpiece, the anxiety of thinking “Damn, what if she drops the keycard?” “What if the Mageguard is there when she opens the elevator!?” And let’s not talk about Bree putting those track muscles to work to run down a dark hallway to free herself just before the barrier snaps back into place. I felt the urgency of Samira telling her “You can go faster, run faster, trust me!” When Bree crossed the barrier and made it to Alice, I cheered like I had won the Mega Millions. Plus, I love a good callback with the "someone you can trust" line William says in LB.

2. Burning the Streams/Erebus Deal

“Think of the power you possess and the woman who gave it to you. I smile, sadly. ‘I used to think that woman was my mother, and, through her, you. Tried it her way and it didn’t work.’ She tilts her head. ‘And why is that?’

‘Because you all didn’t give me my power.’ I kneel to face the streams, thrust my hands into the earth from which they came. ‘I did.’”

By the end of Bloodmarked, I was tired of Bree getting her ass handed to her. Tired of her seeking out the ancestors only to be foiled at every turn. This is the moment where she chose herself and I loved it. It has sparked so many conversations and it makes me think of how older generations can sometimes shame you for choices that they did not have the courage to make. Granted, Vera did what she needed to do in her time, but it also shows how generational curses can follow and impact us. I felt for Bree in this moment because she tried to do it like everyone told her (or didn’t tell her) and when all else failed, she bossed up and did it her way. As a seasoned woman, I make it a point to give the younger girlies game, if they are willing to hear it. By the time we got to her burning the streams and making a deal with Erebus, no matter how reckless it seemed, I was here for it. Dragons take what they want and burn the rest, after all.

1. Pulling Excalibur

“We are in the cave again. We take one step and we are already at the stone. We grasp the ancient hilt, warm under our fingers. We pull Excalibur free.”

Look at you! You made it to the end, to my number one Bree Matthews moment! I have to say that Legendborn sat in my office for a year before I picked it up (life was lifeing like it never lifed before). Oddly enough, it called to me. I started listening to it on Audible first (before I read it physically). By the time I got to chapter 54 and Bree started recounting Vera’s life, her strength, then being at the hospital and meeting Sel’s mom, I said “Aww shit!” It was a “On your left” Sam Wilson moment, a Charlie Baltimore “Die screaming MF” moment, a Tupac “Hit em up” moment. I had that chapter on repeat! It had everything! The sheer awe of everyone in the cave with their mouths agape watching our good sis snatch that sword out of the stone, her switching to sinister employing battle tactics and throwing fire like Megan throws ass, Martin Davis curling into himself and fleeing after telling her essentially she was not worthy! I am a sucker for deep reverence so at the end, when Sel was the first to kneel at the feet of this amazing, dynamic, black girl…I could have never imagined such a thing in all my years. This scene was written beautifully and was so satisfying considering all that our Bree had gone through in book one. It was a huge middle finger to all of the stuffy Order bigots that pined over their blood and lineage when in truth, all they have and represent was built on the backs of those whose blood is baked into the soil. Black Folk. Those whose souls are as rich and complex as the truth history keeps trying to bury.

What are some of your top Bree moments? Let me know in the comments or give your good sis a reblog.

Happy Black History Month Y'all!

P.S. - Did you know there is a Black History Wales????

#bloodmarked #legendborn cycle #bree mathews #tracey deonn

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checkoutmybookshelf · 5 months ago

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Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

The more of this book I read, the less reasonable it seems to call this a reread. I definitely internalized almost nothing of this book the first time around. This time around though, we have fun things like Gandalf army crawling around Rivendell to troll Pippin, Boromir being the single person of the big folk to actually be practically concerned about the hobbits in the wild, and a personified and deeply pissed off mountain. So let's talk chapter three, "The Ring Goes South."

Literally the majority of the time we spend with the hobbits in Rivendell is in meetings. We JUST got out of the council meeting--which was a hell of an infodump chapter and frankly my head is STILL spinning over it--and now the hobbits are in Bilbo's room having their own little meeting. This is also kind of where I'm really starting to see the big folk totally disregard Merry and Frodo's relationship and lump Merry in with Pippin, because it's not even a QUESTION at first that Merry and Pippin will go along with Frodo and Sam. Which like...again...MERRY IS SOLIDLY 95% OF THE REASON THEY MADE IT OUT OF THE SHIRE AND TO BREE SAFELY. GIVE THE HOBBIT THE DAMN CREDIT HE DESERVES!!!

I can't say I'm not enjoying the Gandalf trolling Pippin dynamic, but it's wildly unfair to lump Merry into that, and frankly I cannot wait until our hobbit gets to Rohan and gets his own little adventure, because he deserves it.

In the meantime, however, all points to Sam for gently calling out that they'll "just wait long enough for winter to come" before leaving Rivendell to start their quest. I grew up in Alaska, and I am EXTREMELY with Sam on this one. A bigass quest in the winter is doable, if you're prepared and know how not to die of stupid or exposure or cold, but it is going to SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

I also deeply approve of Bilbo pinning the blame for THAT precisely where it belongs:

"That can't be helped," said Bilbo. "It's your fault partly, Frodo my lad: insisting on waiting for my birthday. A funny way of honoring it, I can't help thinking. Not the day I would have chosen for letting the S.-B.s into Bag End. But there it is: you can't wait now till spring; and you can't go till the reports come back."

The SHAAAAAAAAAAAAADE on Frodo giving Lobelia Sackville-Baggins Bag End on Bilbo's birthday there is amazing, and honestly this is an excellent point. That said though, it's also just a biiiiiiiiiiit harsh on Bilbo's part to blame Frodo for making a plan without full information. We do the best we can with the information we have at any given point, and I rather think that given his druthers--a a lack of Black Riders on the road--Frodo might have spent longer in Crickhollow and Bree, which could have meant that they would have been off on this trip in the spring. That would also have been entirely too late to do anything useful, but there you go.

We do just casually spend two months in Rivendell though, so it's literally the end of December before they get word that eight of the nine Black Riders were successfully de-horsed and de-cloaked by the rushing waters at the ford, which clears the party to officially form up and leave Rivendell.

I am not gonna lie, having largely grown up on the movies, I find it absofuckingloutely hilarious that Peter Jackson just kind of went, "Let's do 'I am Spartacus' during the council of Elrond to put the party together" and Elrond is basically like, "Nine companions...Cool beans!" And I have now discovered that the actual way this went down was a lot more "I am Elf Daddy, Hear Me Roar":

"And I will choose you companions to go with you, as far as they will or fortune allows. The number must be few, since your hope is speed and secrecy. [...] The Company of the Ring shall be Nine; and the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil."

Ok, cool; they're an explicit parallel to the Black Riders. And thank you Tolkien for trying to subvert the dreaded movie title mention, even if Peter Jackson didn't take the hint and got cute with it (affectionately). I will say though, Elrond might have...ASKED FRODO if there was anyone in particular he wanted with him while he walked to hell. Like, this should have been a conversation, not a declaration. I grant, Frodo wouldn't have known all of what he'd need, but damn Elrond, way to not even bother to ASK.

Which is also why I am grateful Gandalf pipes up when Pippin insists that he and Merry are going. Because not only does Gandalf make up for the trolling a bit here, he also is willing to respect hobbits' desires more than LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE UP TO THIS POINT. Here's how this bit goes down:

"We don't want to be left behind. We want to go with Frodo." "That is because you do not understand and cannot imagine what lies ahead," said Elrond. "Neither does Frodo," said Gandalf, unexpectedly supporting Pippin. "Nor do any of us see clearly. It is true that if these hobbits understood the danger, they would not dare to go. But they would still wish to, or wish that they dared, and be shamed and unhappy. I think, Elrond. that in this matter it would be well to trust rather to their friendship than to great wisdom."

THEY ARE NOT CHILDREN JUST BECAUSE THEY'RE SHORT, ELROND. Frodo is like fully in his hobbit 30s, and everyone else is a legal hobbit adult. They get to make their own choices, even if your ass doesn't like them. And THANK YOU GANDALF for supporting hobbit agency at this time. Honest to christ, it's like big folk see small folk and go "child" and as a short woman (five foot one on a good day) this is deeply irritating to me. Height isn't some indicator of adulthood and intelligence. It's an indicator of HEIGHT.

And sure, even if the hobbits have no fucking clue what they're in for, that's not like...wildly unusual for newly adulted adults. We make all sorts of decisions in our early twenties (or have them made for us *glares in military drafts and student loans*) that we absolutely would not have made given more life experience. Like...welcome to adulthood, sit the fuck down Elrond.

Which he eventually does, we sort out the company roster, and everyone fucks off to go get kitted up.

Anduril just gets casually reforged so Aragorn can have a sword that is actually USEFUL on this leg of the trip. My favorite thing though? Absolutely has to be Bilbo's CASUAL DISREGARD FOR RIVENDELL'S ARCHITECURE:

"Here is your sword," he said. "But it was broken, you know. I took it to keep it safe but I've forgotten to ask if the smiths could mend it. No time now. So I thought, perhaps, you would care to have this, don't you know?" He took from the box a small sword in an old shabby leather scabbard. Then he drew it, and its polished and well-tended blade glittered suddenly, cold and bright. "This is Sting," he said, and thrust it with little effort deep into a wooden beam.

The absolute HELL I would have caught from literally everyone if I ever casually plunged a sword into someone else's house doesn't even bear thinking about. I also appreciate the casual hobbity disregard for Frodo's own sword. Like, it was broken, and Bilbo just...forgot to get it fixed? Part of me is like, "Well, he IS a hobbit," and the rest of me is like "THE FUCK YOU FORGOT, SIR. THIS IS A PLOY TO SET YOUR NEPHEW AND HEIR OFF WITH A SWORD YOU TRUST." Which is deeply relatable and honestly super adorably parental, especially since it is ABSOLUTELY Bilbo's fault that Frodo ended up in this position. (Yeah that might be harsh and it might ignore the Ring's own agency, but I stand by "magic rings shouldn't be passed down to unsuspecting nephews" thing.)

I do appreciate that Frodo gets Sting though, because that sword served Bilbo well in The Hobbit, and even I can appreciate the value of the inheritance that Sting brings to the quest in general and Bilbo in particular. Same with the Mithril shirt--although the word Mithril is not used in this chapter!!! Bilbo refers to it as dwarf-mail, and I would need to go back and look at The Hobbit to see if he knows it's Mithril there and I cannot currently be bothered.

What is really adorable is that Frodo takes one look at this thing--and its matching pearl and crystal belt--and goes "I should look - well, I don't think I should look right in it." And Bilbo AGREES!!! But it's darling, really, because he does the hobbitiest thing imaginable to get the protective gear on the nephew:

"Just what I said myself," said Bilbo. "But never mind about looks. You can wear it under your outer clothes. Come on! You must share this secret with me. Don't tell anybody else! But I should feel happier if I knew you were wearing it. I have a fancy it would turn even the knives of the Black Riders," he ended in a low voice.

The masterful parenting skills on display here. First, we validate the kid's feelings that yeah, it looks pretty stupid. But hey, nobody has to see, and it can be our cool little secret! And it would make me, your beloved, frail, old Uncle Bilbo feel better if you did. Do you WANT to get stabbed again? Because not wearing this is how you get stabbed again. This is literally just Bilbo running through the parenting manual at warp speed, and I kind of love it. Because ultimately, the Mithril goes on, and it will end up saving Frodo's ass.

Although admittedly it's not going to do much on Caradhras.

It then takes three and a half pages to get everyone out the goddamn gate, but a third of the way into this chapter, we do FINALLY get the fellowship setting forth. Before they can get out the door though, Elrond spends a weird amount of time going "EVERYONE IS A VOLUNTEER. THEY CAN LEAVE WHENEVER THEY WANT." It has very "Covering my ass to not get sued" vibes, and frankly while I appreciate the clarity--and yes, I get it, the choice to stay together is what makes the bonds strong more than some oath--CAN WE PLEASE GET THE HELL ON THE ROAD ALREADY???

It is getting toward January, so walking to the mountains is cold and windy and miserable but probably also deeply boring, so Tolkien kind of glosses over that until we get to the Misty Mountains and we get like fifteen names for each peak that I'm not spending time on because I don't care. The important thing is that we have to go up the Redhorn Gate on Caradhras and head for the Dimrill Dale, where we will descend the Dimrill Stair toward the Mirrormere and River Silverlode. Got it.

It does not take long for Aragorn to get anxious because the patterns of the land are disrupted, and I love that as per usual, when something important happens, it's Sam who is there. When the crebain pull their little flyover, it's Sam whose watch Aragorn shares, SAM who actually first sees the dark patch that heralds the spy birds, and Sam whose eyes we see them through. Sam is the keeper of knowledge for our hobbits, and I adore that this pattern is still standing strong, even if it means that these people can't stay secret or hidden for longer than a few days if their damn lives depend on it. Literally at no point have the forces of Mordor not known that the ring is moving, and they've generally had a rough sense of where it is too. Even Gandalf is over here going, "and I have no freaking clue how we're getting over the Redhorn Gate unseen, but we will burn that bridge when we get to it."

Unfortunately, by the time they actually do get to Caradhras, weather seems to be moving in, and Wizard Daddy and King of Gondor Daddy are fighting about the route and refusing to ask for directions:

"Winter deepens behind us, [...] the weather may prove a more deadly enemy than any. What do you think of your course now, Aragorn?" [...] "I think no good of our course from beginning to end, as you well know, Gandalf," answered Aragorn. [...] "But there is another way, and not by the pass of Caradhras: the dark and secret way that we have spoken of." "But let us not speak of it again! Not yet." [...] "We must decide before we go further," answered Gandalf.

But ultimately, they opt to go over the mountain, with Boromir super wisely piping up as the expert on traveling in deadly winter that hey, MAYBE THEY SHOULD BRING SOME FIREWOOD, because "it will not help us to keep so secret that we are frozen to death."

Like, Aragorn is a ranger, but he isn't used to these altitudes. Gandalf and Legolas aren't bothered by snow. Gimli is...a dwarf. But Boromir has probably seen people die in snow and cold, and I'd bet he knows that thanks to the weird thing where people who are smaller have higher surface-area-to-volume ratios and lose body heat faster. Boromir and Aragorn are big dudes, but the hobbits are literally child-sized. They're going to be in more danger from cold faster. So YEAH, bring the extra fire wood.

Oh, and hey, Gimli? THIS MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE MOMENT TO MENTION THAT CARADHRAS HATES ELVES AND WIZARDS. I PERHAPS WOULD NOT HAVE WAITED UNTIL YOU WERE EYEBALL DEEP IN AN UNNATURAL SNOWSTORM TO MENTION THIS.

Seriously, they get partway up this mountain, and Gandalf and Aragorn are still having a pissing contest about the route they're now actively on, Boromir is hypothesizing that Sauron is yeeting a blizzard at them, AND NOT A GODDAMN WORD FROM GIMLI until the next day when Boromir is hearing fell voices in the air and BIGASS STONES ARE FALLING ON THEIR HEADS. And even then, it's not the full explanation we'll get in another couple pages, it's:

"Caradhras was called the Cruel, and had an ill name," said Gimli, "long years gao, when rumour of Sauron had not been heard in these lands."

Like, sure, ok. It's a mean, grouchy mountain. BUT AGAIN, MAYBE WE COULD HAVE PICKED A DIFFERENT ROUTE IF WE KNEW IT SPECIFICALLY HATED ELVES AND WIZARDS.

This heralds probably the worst night that the company spends on this mountain. They have almost no cover, the snow nearly buries the hobbits, and had Boromir not been watching, they'd have fallen asleep and suffocated to death under snow or frozen to death. And it is SUPER clear that Gandalf doesn't understand how biology works, because in response to Boromir's "This will be the death of the halflings" (which, YEAH, no kidding!!!), Gandalf pulls out the Elven liquor. Specifically miruvor, or the cordial of Imladris, but that means jack to me at this point other than IT IS NOT ENOUGH TO KEEP THE HOBBITS ALIVE IN A MOUNTAIN BLIZZARD IN JANUARY.

Ultimately it's Boromir's foresight to bring some goddamn fuel and light a fire that keeps the hobbits alive, and frankly as someone who grew up where it could hit minus 50 Fahrenheit, Gandalf is no longer allowed to lead on mountains. If Boromir hadn't been there, they would have had four dead hobbits on their hands. Like, yes, eyes on the prize, but PERHAPS NOT AT THE EXPENSE OF THE LIFE OF THE RINGBEARER LESS THAN A MONTH INTO THE JOURNEY???

At this point, Gimli calls for, and is granted, a retreat, because the mountain is absolutely going to kill all their asses. Boromir again gets MEGA points for being the beefiest of beefy warrior men and breaking a trail to get everyone else down--WHILE CARRYING MERRY AND PIPPIN. Like, quite literally this bear of a man has one hobbit piggyback, one clinging to his front like a monkey, and STILL manages to keep clearing and widening the path for everyone behind him. And this goes on for like another day or two as they get off murder mountain.

Quite literally I am gonna need everyone to stop what they're doing and acknowledge that Boromir pulled everyone's asses out of the fire that Aragorn and Gandalf bickered them into. Like, I'm not gonna say this man was done completely dirty by the movie, because he gets little "protector of the hobbits' physical well-being" moments throughout, but HOLY TITS WAS THAT SCALED DOWN.

I think I'll leave it here, with Caradhras having quite handily handed the fellowship their asses, and Boromir being the only reason that the hobbits survived that little foray into mountain passes. Like, they gave it the old college try, and I'm sure that probably seemed like the least bad of all the shitty options for travel in front of them, but if anything was DESIGNED to murder the hobbits in their little hairy tracks, it was the angry, Elf and Wizard hating mountain that can yeet stones and whip up killer blizzards...

#reread #the fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings #lotr #chapter 3 #the ring goes south #books and reading #books #books and novels

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tabl3 · 4 days ago

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wow what a cute family scene. sure hope nothing bad happens after :D

"Breana,” Tasha scolded.

“Nothing,” Bree grinned angelically, hiding the bottle behind her back.

Adam grabbed it, downing the liquid in ten seconds.

“Bitch-”

“Can you not wait one year?” Tasha finished setting the table as she lectured. “And Adam, sweetheart, let's not get into alcoholism a month after we start drinking.”

“Heh, buzzy,” Douglas giggled, stumbling by.

Tasha gestured to that example. Adam saluted.

Chase set Naomi in her high chair, pecking her coils. “Is it ready? Leo’s dying from starvation.”

Leo dramatically groaned, flopping around.

“Yes,” Tasha kissed Donald on the cheek in thanks as he poured wine for the pair.

Chase hovered the trays and plates over. Tasha and Donald took the heads of the table. Bree, Leo, and Naomi sat on one side. Chase was between Adam and Douglas on the other.

“A toast,” Donald raised his glass. “To having my dearest family back together. Forever.”

#lab rats #elite force #lref #lab rats elite force #chase davenport #bree davenport #adam davenport #leo dooley #douglas davenport #tasha davenport #donald davenport

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lover-of-mine · 4 months ago

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gg here gurl

i wanted to wait for this but today i had confirmation

some tim ago they dm tim about the deleted scene tommy/henren and he said that he would’ve done it but everyone was sure it was another thing like bree

today we had our confirmation and while they are acting like this is some gold scene behind the back they are pissed bc they thought hen would’ve forgiven him but the scene is very weird also they waiting for ostark to do something

Babe I have been refreshing my inbox waiting for this!!!! I saw the dm thing and was wondering what was really the reaction because that's very much NOT a scene where henren gives him any type of forgiveness.

And seriously, what do they think Oliver can do? Boy didn't do anything in months, he's not gonna start now, even more with a scene that makes Tommy look worse lol

#kaoakspskapkapa #thank you 🩷🩷#911 #anon 😌#i really need a tag for asks #anti bucktommy #spy network #gossip girl anon

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feathersnflowers · 1 year ago

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so I wanted to try writing something because idk it's fun and I decided to start a little fanfic on an au. Basically (I'm still working out some of it) Philip is Hunter's abusive Uncle that keeps him locked up in the old house then one day he finds a little girl (vee) out on her own so he decides to kidnap her so hunter can have a little friend (I mean he doesn't really care about hunter being happy he just hopes he'll be a little less clingy) then about two months later the authorities find out who kidnapped vee and arrest Philip. Also Sorry if there's anything in it that doesn't make sense or is incorrect I didn't really know how this kind of stuff would work and I didn't want to research.

Chapter 1

______________________

Hunter woke up to the sound of people arguing; which was strange, there was never anyone else in the house besides him, Uncle Philip, and Vee. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked over at Vee, peacefully sleeping. He was tempted to go downstairs and investigate, but he though it better to stay with Vee. Plus, his uncle would probably get mad if he did.

Since Vee wasn't awake and he couldn't go see what was happening, he decided to clean up the area a little. Uncle had let Vee and him make a pillow fort in their room the other night, meaning there were pillows, blankets, and toys strewn about all over the floor. He was almost done picking up when he heard footsteps, followed by knocking on the door.

"Yes?" he asked softly, holding on to a pink frog plushy.

The door creaked open and a tall woman with short, dirty blond hair, held up in a ponytail walked in. She was met by the ten-year-old boy looking up at her. The women crouched down to his level before speaking.

"Hey there buddy." she smiled "I'm here to help you. Have you seen a little girl by the name of Vee around here?"

Hunter tensed up a bit. "Yeah, she's sleeping right there." he informed her quietly, pointing to where the girl was sleeping in a pile of pillows.

"Thank you." she said getting up and moving over to the girl, picking her up gently. "Come, follow me." she instructed. Hunter looked around nervously before timidly walking close to the women, still hugging the plush tight.

They snuck quietly down the stairs to the dimly lit living room, the house seemingly empty.

The women led him outside. He squinted in the bright sunlight, trying to shield his eyes with his hand. When he adjusted he looked around, taking in the scene. There were a couple of cars, and people going in and out of the house while talking. They all looked so serious.

The women set Vee down on the ground, shaking her carefully to wake her up. Vee opened her eyes slightly and rubbed the sleep out, looking up at the women. "Hey there Vee, I'm here to get you back to your mama, alright?" she told the girl.

"Mama." Vee smiled, then sat up, looking around. " Wait, where's Hunter?" Vee asked "Is he ok?"

"Is this him?" The woman questioned, reaching behind herself, gingerly grabbing Hunter's arm, and pulling him over into Vee's vision. He had been watching all the grownups going in and out of the house.

Vee smiled "Yeah." she said.

Hunter looked around again

"Where's Uncle?" Hunter asked, looking up at the woman.

"Oh, well, he's going somewhere far away, and you won't be able to see him for a while, but you'll be ok I promise we'll find you a good home with loving parents." she said, puting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"What?" he asked, starting to shake a little. "D-did he die?" Hunter's voice cracked.

"No no no, he's not dead, he's just in jail" the woman reassured, seeing the boy's panicked face.

"Oh..." he said, looking down.

"Hey Bree, Camila said she's almost here, so get Vee ready-" said a voice from behind them. He paused before speaking again. "Who's that?" He asked, limply pointing to Hunter.

"Oh this is Hunter, I think he's Philip's nephew." She answered, rubbing the boys arm gently.

"So what do we do with him?"

"Well, we could bring him to an orphanage or foster care?"

"Actually, I should probably go tell Gary about the kid, this is his kinda stuff."

The man then walked away.

"Did you hear that, Vee, your mama is coming." Bree smiled, looking back at Vee. "Let's move closer to where she'll be coming from."

With that, she helped Vee stand up, putting her hand behind the girls back, and started walking towards the curb in front of the house. But Hunter didn't move. When Bree noticed, she looked over her shoulder.

"You too, Hunter. I'm not just going to leave you alone."

Hunter startled at that, then walked towards her and Vee, still standing close, but not touching.

After a couple minutes of standing there, a car pulled up and a short woman got out. She had curly brown hair, dark tan skin, and glasses.

"Vee, baby!" She cried, running over to Vee and hugging her tight.

"Mama!" Vee sobbed into the woman's shoulder.

"Oh my sweet baby, I'm so glad you're ok." The woman sighed with relief, pressing a few kisses into the girl's forehead.

The woman looked up at Bree with tears in her eyes, "Thank you so much." She smiled, holding the girl close in her arms

"Just doing my job." Bree answered. "I'm glad she's safe too."

The woman gave Vee one last kiss before standing up, still holding the girl. "Are you ready to go home, Mija?" She asked, looking at her daughter.

Vee opened her mouth to say yes, but remembered Hunter. "Almost, I just need to say goodbye to someone." She hopped out of the women's arms and walked up to Hunter, before hugging him. "Goodbye Hunter."

Hunter's eyes were wide and full of tears. "V-vee?" He choked, trying not to cry. "W-Where are you going?." he asked, knowing exactly where.

"Home." She said simply. "I'll miss you."

She was about to go, when Hunter wrapped his arms around her. "Please don't leave." He sobbed

"I'm sorry." She apologized, before freeing herself from his grasp. His knees started wobbling and he crumpled to the ground, shaking and sobbing, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Vee looked at him, then to her mom, not knowing what to do.

Camila looked over at the small boy with a soft expression, then looked over at Bree. "Does he have any family coming for him?" She asked with a gentle tone.

"No, he's Philip's nephew" Bree informed her.

Camila smiled "Then I'll take him with me." When she looked back to the boy he was looking up at her with disbelief. She smiled warmly at him and crouched down at his side.

"So, what do you say? Would you like to come home with Vee and I?" She asked, stretching her arm out to him.

His eyes filled with more tears, and he covered his face as he started crying again. Camila gently wrapped her arms around the boy and he snuggled in close, soon joined by Vee.

Bree smiled. "I think that'll be just fine."

#the owl house #toh hunter #toh vee #toh fanfic #the owl house fanfiction #toh au #the owl house au #toh hunter au #hunter noceda #vee noceda #hunter toh #vee toh #toh camila #camila toh #camila noceda #toh philip #fanfic

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 8 months ago

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 21

RAAAAHHHHHHHH WE'RE BACK AND ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT AND I CAN FINALLY MOVE ONTO PART 3. The Easter holidays have just started for me so I now have three full weeks to put into the last chapter. This one could be classed as a filler chapter but there's a lot they gain that links to the future so stuff doesn't just appear 'for the plot' - the girls need their hardcore character development before the journey. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 8527

Warnings: Nothing I can think of.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 20 // Chapter 21 // Chapter 22 >

Part 2: Chapter 21 -

Interesting Concept. Poor Execution.

Brontide (Definition): The low rumble of distant thunder. (Noun / Origin: Greek /ˈbrän‧ˌtīd)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Monday, 27th March 2940 of the Third Age (Monday, 5th Astron, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)

4 MONTHS LATER

“I’m so happy you allowed me to accompany you three! It’s not every day I’m able to spare time for trip like this.” Gladiola smiled gratefully at the three of us.

After begging Bilbo to let us travel to Bree for a good month, he finally let up, but only agreed if we went in the spring, strongly insisting we wouldn’t survive the night if we had travelled in the deep winter.

“Bree is a hundred and thirty-five mile trip, meaning it would take a minimum of four days to get there. Meaning that we would have to camp in the freezing cold, because the only proper shelters are at least three detours from the path!”

We had instantly agreed, when we had realised the actual distance, deciding to wait until late March when the weather would be warmer.

Aa couple days before we left, Mrs Greenfoot had walked in on us packing when she was dropping off some spare socks she had knitted. After telling her where we were going, she instantly pleaded to let her go with us, saying how she heard Bree had some fabrics that she was dying to get her hands on, and how her husband was going to be at home full time for the next two weeks, so it would be a perfect opportunity for her to go. We said yes after persuading a reluctant Bilbo, and she shot off to pack, which led to now – on our fourth day of walking.

“Oh I really do hope the markets have what I want. I promised Menegilda I would make her a new dress for her birthday.” Gladiola rambled on as she took in the fields and forests ahead of us, her pace picking up with eagerness.

“I’m sure they will.” Replied Kay, grimacing at the feeling of her aching legs. “It’ll ruin the reputation they’ve built of they don’t.”

“Hopefully.” She sighed. “What are you all hoping of finding?”

“Every dangerous object under the sun apparently.” Bilbo spoke up before us. Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it over.

Taking it, Gladiola quickly scanned the list, her face morphing into surprise and shock at the same time. “Swords?? Why would you need swords?” she queried, handing it back.

“To scare off half the town, in my opinion.” Bilbo grumbled, clearly not happy with the reason we had dragged him so far. “If I didn’t want to go for some of that wine they make, I would’ve said no on the spot.”

“Well, we would’ve gone ourselves if that was the case.” I jived back.

“We just want to know that we can protect ourselves if we ever decide to try and find our way home.” Kay explained.

Bilbo slowed his pace for a moment, as something seemed to dawn on him. “Oh.” He said quietly, a tiny quiver of dejection on his face. “Yes, home. I forgot about uh.. that.” Though he quickly shook that mood off, jogging slightly to catch up.

“Plus,” I added in an attempt to alleviate the mood. “we wouldn’t be looking to own one if we didn’t think it looked insanely cool.”

And with that Bilbo sighed, back to his usual exasperated mood.

The wall surrounding Bree stretched high above us as we neared the wooden gate, its intimidating nature emphasised by the two-storey stone turrets that flanked either side like a pair of unmovable sentries.

Gravel and dried mud crunching underfoot, we took the last few steps, before shuffling to a stop in front of one of the towering doors. Taking a couple steps forward, Bilbo reached up and gave the surface a few hard raps, before coming back to stand beside us.

A moment passed, and only the birds and the rustling of leaves from the nearby trees could be heard, when a muffled rattling sounded from behind the door. A small hatch near my eye level swung open, revealing the wrinkled face of a man, who, at the sight of us, morphed it into a sour scowl, a stark contrast compared to the warm sun that was beating down on our backs.

“Who’re you?” he barked, his croaky and adenoidal voice matching his unpleasant demeanour perfectly.

When neither me or Kay began to speak, Bilbo quickly piped up, stretching up on his toes to try and see the gatekeeper. “Um, hello?” he called out.

The gatekeeper, quickly stepped back and slammed the hatch shut, before a creak resounded from further down, opening another hatch that was the perfect level to speak with the hobbit, giving me a very strong sense of déjà vu.

The hobbit stepped forward towards the open hatch. “We’re here to stay at the Prancing Pony, for a week.” He explained politely. “To visit the market.”

“Oh?” croaked the gatekeeper with half a smirk. “And what are you here to buy, exactly?”

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to flap the list in front of the old man’s face. “Whatever we need.” He said sternly, before stuffing the paper back in his pocket. “I have visited before, you know.”

Looking between me and Kay, then at the hobbits, his eyes narrowed. “Two hobbits and a pair of human girls, together. That’s not something you see every day.” He muttered, reminding me a lot of a certain Hogwarts caretaker, and I half-expected to see a dupe of Mrs Norris jump out of nowhere. “Tell me, how do you know each other?”

“They’re his daughters!” A voice called out, and the three of us spun around in surprise to face a nervous looking Mrs Greenfoot. “Adopted, of course. And I’m a family friend.” She added with a sheepish smile.

The gatekeeper took his time to eye us all up slowly, his bloodshot eyes scouring whatever he could. Seemingly unable to spot anything he counted as suspicious, he quickly disappeared again with a grumble, the hatch shutting with a snap. Seconds later there was a loud groan, and the door he used to speak through slowly began to open. When the gap was wide enough, the gatekeeper stepped out from behind it, revealing his mousy grey hair and tattered brown tunic and trousers. Raising a wrinkly hand, he impatiently beckoned us forward, quickly scouring the area outside as we stumbled in, before he pushed the gate shut.

Bilbo diligently led the way as we trekked down the main street, dragging Mrs Greenfoot to walk beside him.

“What in Yavanna’s name are you doing??” The two of us heard him cry in a whisper. “People are going to ask even more questions if we call them my daughters! How am I supposed to come up with a story about that???”

“Well go with the story you already have! Because it’s the one you’re going to have to run with for now, Mr Baggins.” She hissed back with a smirk.

Deciding to pointedly ignore the storm brewing in front of us, I turned to the view of the building in front of us. “Very Tudor-like.” I mentioned, admiring the dark beams that contrasted against the cream walls, along with the jettying of the upper floors that stuck out, and the metal grid panes that decorated the windows all around.

Kay hummed in agreement as she walked beside me, the both of us in awe of the once-fictional town that spanned across our view.

“It’s nice to see it not pouring with rain and caked in mud like the movies.” She whispered. I eagerly agreed, very happy about not having to fight my way through several inches of horse-trodden mud.

Grasping our skirts, we twisted between people and horse-drawn carriages, finally stopping in front of a relatively large building, the carved wooden sign hanging above us revealing itself to be the one and only Prancing Pony, and the two of us craned our necks to look up and admire the famous building Reaching an arm out, Mrs Greenfoot hauled the hefty wooden door open, and the four of us took our first steps into the inn.

Approaching the bar near the door, I watched Bilbo wipe the thunderous look on his face, turning away from where he was scowling at Gladiola to face the bartender approaching us.

“Good afternoon!” The man called, leaning his round body over the counter to take us all in with a hearty smile. “The name’s Mr Butterbur, but you lot can call me Barney. What can I do for the four of you?”

“Two rooms, if you please.” Answered Bilbo, reaching into his pocket for the right amount of coins. “Preferably split one and three.”

“Ah, you got lucky!” said Mr Butterbur, sticking his hand under the counter to bring out two keys. “You came at the right time – travelling’s picking up again now that winter’s over.” He handed the keys to Bilbo. “Rooms 5 and 6. Say, will you lot be coming down for dinner? I have a feeling it’ll be quiet this evening and we’re serving roast beef and potatoes.”

“Yes, that’ll be lovely.” Replied Gladiola with a warm smile.

Thanking the bartender once again, we set off, crossing the sparsely populated room of tables, considering it was only late afternoon, and up the narrow, creaking stairs on the other side. It didn’t take long to walk down the upper hallway to find the matching rooms, Bilbo handing us our key before he unlocked the door of his own room, insisting the separation was basic courtesy.

Evening came round quickly, our time spent downstairs in the tavern. Bilbo, Kay and Gladiola were currently sat at a table by one of the windows, and I was up by the bar, sipping a steaming tankard of tea on a rickety stool as I waited for Mr Butterbur to refill Bilbo’s wine.

“Say, I don’t suppose you know a place that could sell weapons?” I asked.

He was quiet for a moment, only raising a bushy brow as he peered down at me. Slowly, he set the refilled cup of wine down, before taking a rag out to wipe the surface. “Depends, what kind of weapons are you looking for?” he said lowly.

“Oh, nothing too dramatic.” I waved dismissably. “My friend and I are looking to venture out by ourselves at some point, you see. And we’re looking for something that’s durable and efficient, but easy to get used to, that beginners can handle.”

He seemed to lighten up again, throwing the cloth down as he braced both of his arms on the bar, eyes darting around in thought.

“Are you sure you two want to do that?” he asked with a stern but gentle look. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard the Shire is one of the safest places you can live, the world outside? Not so much. Besides, you wouldn’t want to leave your dad alone, now would you?”

I blinked. “My – ?” I spun on my chair, looking at our table when my eyes made contact with Bilbo’s, who already seemed to be staring over with light concern on his face. “Oh! He’s no – yea, he’s uh, only been our.. ‘dad’ for a few months though.”

“Even more reason to stay!” Mr Butterbur said, reaching over to poke my shoulder slightly. “You don’t want to go breaking his poor heart right after he opened it up to let you both in!”

I turned back towards the bar, a solemn look falling upon my face as I stared at the tankard in my hands. “I know it’s just…” I heaved a long sigh. “I had a family,” My voice quavered as I looked up at him with wide eyes. “No, I have a family. I wasn’t brought here by choice, I –” I pressed my palms over my teary eyes as the events from the last six months hit me all at once. “I don’t know how we got here and I can’t get us back.” I cried.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured gently, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what the two of you have gone through, but it seems that you’re distressed about the sudden change and you don’t even realise it.”

Blinking through the blur of tears, I looked up at him. “I have a bit. Bilbo’s found me crying at night over it more than once, but I’ve been telling him it’s nightmares of the night he found us.”

“A bad night?” he asked, smiling gently under his moustache.

“Very.” I replied with a wobbly grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that terrified before.”

He looked me up and down concerned, eyeing the large pink scar on my hand as I stared at it. He went to open his mouth, when he was interrupted.

“Oi Barney!” A man called from one of the tables nearby. “Don’t suppose we could get another round of mead?”

“I’ll bring ‘em round in a minute!” he called back, before turning to me once more. “Well you two have certainly had an experience, from what I can put together. But,” he lowered his voice again. “coming from a stranger, the best thing you can do, until you can find a way to get back, is to just carry on, and keep your hobbit dad company. Or, you know, find him a spouse – depends on whether he’s the bachelor type or not.”

I choked on my drink at the last statement, looking over at the hobbit with a grin. “Well whoever manages to charm him is gonna need a very strong metaphorical hammer.” I laughed. “Cuz that hobbit has enough stubbornness and resilience to rival the walls of Helm’s Deep.”

Mr Butterbur let out sharp laugh, almost spilling the tankard of beer he was filling. “Helm’s Deep! Blimey, you two must’ve done something insane to persuade him to take you in.” He chortled as he began lining up mugs of mead. “Anyway, you were asking about weapons, and I know of a guy that has a stall in the market square, name it and he’ll probably sell it.”

I perked up at the new subject. “Okay, what area of the square?”

“North-east corner, the blacksmiths.” He replied. “Ask for a man named Seathan Marshsteel. Tall, burly guy with a long dark beard and wavy hair, normally tied in a bun or something. Could be mistaken for a dwarf if it weren’t for the fact he’s over six foot.” He described with a chortle. “He’ll know what to give you, but best you go in the early hours, so the good stuff doesn’t get snagged first.”

“That’s great, thank you so much!” I exclaimed, finally getting up from the stool. Turning to face him fully, I gave him the sincerest smile I could. “And thanks for the advice, too.”

He waved a large hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. I prefer conversations with the emotional sober, than the emotional drunk.”

Giving him a laugh and a wave, I returned to the table with Bilbo’s refilled drink and my own, relaying the information Mr Butterbur had given me to Kay. The rest of that evening was spent in that corner, eating roast beef, potatoes and vegetables along with the rest of the taverns patrons, before retiring to bed for the night, ready for the next morning.

The murmurs of people and trotting of hooves were yet to be heard when I woke the next morning, only the chirping of the early birds, the occasional pair of footsteps scuffling beneath our window along with the crackle and pops of the dying fire across the room could be made out as I blinked the sleep away from my eyes.

I laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling cast in dark shadows by the glowing embers as Kay and Mrs Greenfoot slept on. It still felt a little strange not having my phone on the bedside table, the calm piano of my alarm floating through my ears. The battery died on the fourth night after arriving at Bilbo’s, and I had cried endlessly, reality setting in as a realised that the only potential way of contacting my family was gone, unless we found a way back. I was mostly terrified of not being able to see their faces, but managed to calm myself slightly when I went through my small collection of polaroids and found a couple family portraits. I had stored them in the envelope stuck on the back page of my grimoire, for safe keeping but also as a way of keeping them near me for good luck. Going back through the polaroids, another stroke of luck hit me as I had found a polaroid of Kay and her mum, along with her dog Barkley, that I had taken on one of her birthdays, the two of them smiling at their dining table next to a cake glowing with candles, and the large dog laid by their feet. I had slid it under her door that night, deciding to give her some time alone with it. She had come to breakfast that next morning not saying much, only quietly thanking me before settling into her meal.

Coming back to the present, I decided it was time for me to get up. I took my clothes to the bathroom, slipping on a set of light briefs and a vest top over my underwear, an extra layer to battle the early spring chill, then sliding on my shift and finally my pale green summer kirtle.

Kay and Gladiola had roused from their sleep by the time I was sat on my bed sliding my socks on. I gave them a quick ‘Good morning’, before lacing up my trusty modern walking boots, and walking out the door to go knock on Bilbo’s.

The hobbit was already up, calling through the door that he would meet us downstairs for breakfast. I returned to my room to wait for the other two, before taking the stairs down.

We got lucky that the tavern served an early breakfast, the four of us able to down the meal and get out the door when there was still only a few people wandering the streets. The sun hadn’t fully risen either, the rays only managing to shine through the gaps of buildings and alleyways, highlighted by the fading mist as the jettying upper floors kept parts of the street within the dark blue shadows of the early hours.

“– well I would like to see if they have any rolls of lace as well.” Chirped Gladiola, chattering away about the fabrics and lace she wants to try and find, and that if she got commissioned to create some more outfits with the new fabrics, she might be able to afford a new sewing desk. “I’ll be refusing any requests from your relative Lobelia, Mr Baggins. You know what she said the other day? Marched right up to poor Melba and asked her why she was wearing dishrags right in front of her friends!” she exclaimed.

“She did what?!?!” Kay shrieked in outrage.

“I know! I’m surprised you Bilbo haven’t done something to sever her from the family tree!” Gladiola said as she turned to him.

“Believe me, it’s the one thing I want.” He grumbled. “I’ve had far too many of my possessions vanish only to appear in her parlour.”

After listening to the two of them slag off Bilbo’s relative, we had finally arrived at the market. People were still sparse, only a few meandering the stalls whilst some sellers were still setting up shop.

Using the east-rising sun as a reference, Kay and I headed towards the north-east corner, with Bilbo hot on our heels. We waved goodbye to Gladiola, who ventured off with her coin purse towards the colourful fabric stalls on the other side. Walking up the path past stalls selling everything from arrays of meat to bed linens, the smells of metallic blood, spices and cloth filled our senses as our eyes set on a grey canopy propped up by wooden posts attached to a building with a blacksmiths sign hanging from it. Underneath was a counter that was part of the wall, the stall actually being part of the building itself. Approaching the counter, we peered into the shop. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls, even more hung on the racks stuck in the middle of the room like aisles, or on the ceiling like stalactites. The fire in the corner was burning bright, along with the torches lining the walls, filling our nostrils with the strong smell of smoke and the warmth of hot steel, so we figured someone was in.

Kay leant over the counter to try and look around, before calling out.

“Hello?”

A bang resonated through the air, followed by a string of hissed curses. It wasn’t long until a figure appeared hunched from behind one of the tables, clutching and rubbing to back of his head as he muttered under his breath. He gave it one last rub, before standing straight and stretching his back. Placing down the small hammer in his hand, he turned to face us with a frown, though it quickly turned to one of slight surprise. He matched the description Mr Butterbur had given me: Quite tall, about 6’3, well built and muscular, with thick wavy almost black hair, half tied up in a loose bun, with a beard reaching halfway down his chest. He was wearing a pair of loose trousers tied with a thick belt and a baggy tunic rolled up at the sleeves, and covered in patches of soot and grime, his time in the forge on clear display.

Eyeing us up and down, he took his time wandering over, using a cloth to wipe his calloused hands down whilst his face held an expression of poorly concealed confusion. The look increased tenfold as Bilbo peeked over the edge, resting his forearms on the wooden surface to prop himself up. Reaching us, he plopped the rag down, bracing his arms on the counter as his pale blue eyes took the three of us in.

“Can I… help you?” he queried, an accent similar to an Irish one strong on his tongue as he squinted at us, looking as if he couldn’t wrap his head around what was in front of him. I tried not to cough when the smell of smoke increased tenfold, rolling off him in waves.

Nodding, I slapped the list I had taken from Bilbo earlier on the counter. “Yes,” I affirmed eagerly. “We were hoping if you had anything on the list in stock.”

Taking a moment to look between me and the piece of paper, he slowly reached out, pulling the list towards him and picking it up, before grasping the spectacles that hung from his neck by some string, and sliding them on.

He spent about twenty seconds flitting his eyes between us and the list, covering it in black fingerprints until he lowered it a looked down at us over his glasses.

“You three aren’t from around here, are you?” he remarked, his deep, throaty voice resonating through the chill, morning air. “I don’t advertise outside the town unless I speak to you personally, so who told you about me?”

Slightly taken aback by the man’s cautious demeanour, I stepped in the explain. “Uh – we were recommended to visit you by Mr Butterbur?” I managed out, gesturing in the direction of the inn. “from the, uh, Pr-”

“- The Prancing Pony, I know. We’re well acquainted.” He said with a small smile though quickly returned to eyeing us up. “Tell me, what do two young girls and a hobbit want within the weapons trade. You don’t look experienced to me.”

“Which is exactly the problem.” I stated firmly. “We aren’t. And therefore we want to learn how.”

He slowly regarded the three of us with a look, and I prepared for the disappointment of his potential refusal. “Ok,” he sighed, tapping his soot-covered fingernails rhythmically on the wood. “How long are you here for?”

At our silent confusion, he raised a brow expectantly.

“Uh?” Kay vocalised, her eyes dazed in confusion. “A week? We’ve got six days left.”

“And why?” I added. “Do you need time to make them?”

He shook his head. “No.” He stated, baffling us further. Sighing, he began explaining. “None of you look like you’ve seen combat during any day of your lives, so, my proposal is in exchange for six days of dinners at the inn, I give you six days’ worth of basic training.”

Surprised, I slowly turned towards Kay, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. She eyed me back, and grins began to slowly grow on our faces. We turned to confirm the deal, when the hobbit I had forgotten was between us spoke up.

“H-hold on!” he cried, pointing a finger to emphasise his point. “You don’t know any of us. How do we know we can trust what you’re saying?”

Seathan rested on his elbows so he could lean over the counter to face the grumpy hobbit. “Do you trust Mr Butterbur?”

“Mr-” Bilbo sputtered. “We barely had one conversation with him!”

“He did seem nice though.” Kay butted in, and Bilbo whipped his head at her in outrage.

“And it’s a fair deal.” I added, watching in amusement as Bilbo comically flips his head between us, shock evident on his face. “I’ll make you Victoria cakes weekly in return.” I quickly added.

Grumbling under his breath, he eventually gave in. “Fine, they,” he emphasised, pointing to the both of us. “trust the bartender.”

“Then you can trust me.” Seathan replied warmly with a deep rumble of a laugh. “You won’t learn quickly on your own – so meet me outside the inn at 7 o'clock each morning and I’ll give you a rundown of everything. We’ll have breaks at lunch, and finish in time for dinner.”

“Woah, are you sure?” Kay held up a hand to slow him down, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you offering this to us so quickly? We’ve only just met you.”

Seathan pushed himself up from his elbows with a grunt, towering over us as he stood to his full height. “My daughters.” He revealed bluntly. “My wife’s not big on me sharing this but they asked the same thing you did. I said no, and they were injured in a small goblin ambush during one of our travels.” A sombre look fell over his eyes. “They have since recovered, but that guilt has weighed on me ever since, therefore I’ve wanted to offer training to girls and women when they’ve been given no opportunity to do so before.”

Kay nodded slowly, happy with the explanation. “I’m sorry to hear that – I’m glad they’re ok now. So we’ll meet you tomorrow?”

“Come round sometime after luncheon today if you can.” Seathan requested. “The sooner I can get swords in your hands the better.”

Thanking him, we wandered back into the depths of the market, it’s scents dominating our senses once again as we scanned for our other hobbit companion.

---

That morning whizzed by as fast as we would allow it, our nervous excitement for the afternoon sending a slightly uncomfortable buzz through our stomachs, the thought of what was to come prominent on our minds as we scarfed our ham and lettuce sandwiches down. We had changed outfits as well – I now sat in my cream blouse and baggy brown corduroy dungarees, and Kay in her black tank top with some loose, pale brown trousers that closely resembled cargos, and a knitted cardigan slung on top. Sure, it looked a little modern, but we hoped the earthy colours would keep people’s interest away

When we had finished, we wandered outside, only to find Seathan waiting beside the door, instead of where he said he would be by the blacksmiths. Pushing himself off the wall he slowly strode over, no longer donned in his apron, choosing to only remain in his slightly sooty shirt and dungarees.

“You girls ready?” he questioned as he pulled his curls back to tie them with a piece of cloth. Shifting a little, he looked behind us. “Where’s your hobbit friend?”

Still a bit hesitant about his forwardness, I gave him a simple reply. “He doesn’t want to come – said he had planned this week for relaxing and wine tasting.”

He gave a nod as he chuckled. “Fair enough.” He remarked, and beckoned us along as he began trapsing down the now bustling street, the two of us following not long after.

Leading us down a wide alley just before we hit the market, he led us through some of the residential housing, that slowly turned from the fusty smelling, overhanging town houses that were packed together like sardines, to detached cottages with front gardens lined with crudely woven branches to act as fences, goats, donkeys and the odd cat mulling about the small patches of crops in each one. The town was fully alive now, the sun passing midday as everyone got on with their jobs and chores, voices and shouting echoing from down each passage as we trekked past. We were thankful that the early spring weather had allowed the sun to dry out the large mud patches that would’ve otherwise sucked up our poor shoes, watching the solid cracks and chunks grow in size the closer we got to the more rural neighbourhoods.

Rounding one last cottage, we came face to face with the open countryside, the grass long and swaying in the gentle breeze, with the occasional oak tree sheltering a few livestock from the 12 o’clock sun. Climbing over a rickety fence, Seathan brought us to our destination. A large patch of grass had been shortened – about half the size of a football field, and somewhat recently if the loose grass piles and faint smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the usual stink of livestock said anything. Down one of the edges were several wooden posts that had been hammered into the ground, branches and planks nailed on to make them look like human dummies, covered in chips and gashes where they had been practiced on previously. Down another side were some makeshift archery targets; wooden circles cut from tree trunks with white and red paint hastily slapped on in rings.

Eyeing up the equipment, I blindly followed the sound of Seathan’s footsteps. When they stopped, I turned my head to face him, about to ask what was to happen, only to flail my arms out in an attempt to catch the wooden sword that was flung at my face. Managing to grab it at the very edge of the hilt, I darted my wide eyes to the towering man to watch him chuck another at Kay, who had watched my floundering and was prepared enough to catch it with ease.

Picking up a slightly larger wooden sword, he weighed and swung it around as he approached us. “Ok. We’re going to start out with some wooden swords.” He held up a hand as Kay opened her mouth. “And before you protest, I would much rather you get bruises from these rather than deal with a mutilated limb from an actual sharpened sword.”

Pouting, Kay snapped her jaw shut, and we both trailed after him into the centre of the field.

“Now,” he began, turning to us, signalling for us to place our swords down as he did the same. “I know you two won’t gain the arm strength for swinging swords overnight, so we’ll start with some footwork so you don’t twist the wrong way and fall on your own weapon.”

The next couple hours were spent with us practicing out foot spacing and placement, Seathan reaching down to twist our ankles slightly every once in a while, shouting which way to put our feet when spinning around to face potential enemies as we spun and twisted to each end of the field. It oddly felt like I was back in my ballet classes, learning how to walk on the tip of my toes for the very first time again.

Eventually we were able to pick up the swords, learning how to use our arms alongside our feet as we twisted and turned to block his mock attacks that got stronger and stronger each hour, the man insisting that defence was the first and most important thing to learn when it came to combat.

Sweat was running down both of our backs by the time Seathan had called it a day, the sun now nearing the treeline in the distance as the breeze began to cool the moisture on our skin, sending chills down our backs.

“Ughhhhh I feel so muckyyyy.” Kay groaned as she chucked her sword back in the makeshift chest under one of the nearby trees, holding her arms out in front of her as she tried to pick her cardigan up with the tips of her now mud-stained fingers.

“Tell me about it.” I grumbled, exhausted as I reached down to grab the half-filled water tankard, given to us by a lovely woman who had seen us being worked to death by Seathan, who had actually introduced herself as his aforementioned wife. When she had suspiciously asked what we had used to pay him, she had sighed knowingly when we revealed it was several dinners.

“He only asks for that because I don’t let him.” She had muttered amusedly to us as she refilled one of the animal troughs for us to wash our hands in. “He’d be down there every other night stuffing his face otherwise – says Barney’s steak is a god-send. I told him throwing up on customers after eating it all would have an enormous impact on his business’s reputation.”

After chatting to the friendly woman for a few minutes, we were soon ushered up by Seathan, who had hardly broken a sweat at all that day – ‘the pros of working with a kiln every day, you build a resilience to heat’ he had remarked proudly.

Trudging back through the now-calmer town, we wearily made our way back to the Prancing Pony.

---

“By Yavanna, look at the state of you two!!” Bilbo had cried when we walked in, the hobbit gawping at our less-than acceptable appearances. “Yuv’got – mud. Everywhere!” he sputtered, gesturing at our clothes. “Go change, now.”

Snorting at his antics, the two of us dashed up the stairs of the inn, disappearing before we could watch the seething hobbit turn on our slightly nervous teacher.

When we returned having changed into our original clothes from this morning, we joined the two hobbits and Seathan at the table, who we’re all currently waiting for us to arrive before eating the fresh plates of dinner placed in front of them. We sat down and began eating whilst Seathan was recounting what he had taught us as he scarfed down his well-earned meal.

“– yea, they’re getting the hang of it quite quickly!” he stated with a proud grin. “Could say we’ve got a couple of naturals on our hands.”

I smiled back. “I’m just glad we weren’t thrown under the bus straight away, otherwise I would’ve given up.” I joked, but my joking was immediately stopped at the feeling of my throat jamming up, and I clenched my teeth, digging my nails into my palm as I tried not to make it obvious.

Seathan paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as he glanced at me with a bewildered look. “What’s a bus?”

Staring at him, I remained silent waiting for the invisible hands to stop choking me, and he began frowning as he noticed my cheeks turn a slight pink. I flinched slightly as I felt Kay’s foot kick my shin, and my airway opened once again, and it took me a lot of strength to not heave on the spot. I quickly darted my eyes over to see Kay staring at me, silently staring at me as she realised what was going on. Facing the other three, who were looking at me with curious looks, I racked my brain for an excuse.

“Oh! It’s uh.. just a saying where we’re from.” I laughed nervously, still trying to hide my excessive breathing. “We have different names for transport there. Like, um, a carriage is, obviously, known as a carriage, ha ha, but we have nicknames for it, like bus, or.. or car for short?”

A few moments of silence of passed as they processed my rambling.

“Bus is a strange word to call a carriage.” Muttered Seathan, furrowing his brows. “But, if that’s what your lot have named it, then I won’t be one to judge.” He shrugged before returning to stuffing his mouth with potatoes. Bilbo and Gladiola were already back to eating, used to our strange words and sayings by this point.

I glanced at Kay, only to see her glaring at me with raised eyebrows. I narrowed my own back at her mockingly, raising my tankard of tea to my face. “It’s not my fault we’re stuck with medieval people.” I muttered from behind it.

All I got was mashed potato flicked at my forehead in return.

---

The following five days flew by, Seathan putting us through intense training that was far more gruelling than we thought. I mean, c’mon, doing ten laps around the field is a tad bit excessive, plus, arms wield swords, not legs.

I regrettably voiced those thoughts to our teacher, who then proceeded to have us do push-ups and lifting heavy tools he brought from his shop every hour, much to our frustration. He also asked if there was anything else we wanted to learn the basics in – I had said archery, after enjoying it a few times at festivals and residential trips with school or the girl-guiding groups I was in. Kay had excitedly said she wanted to learn throwing axes. And then proceeded the extra push-ups and benching, Seathan insisting that if we wanted to learn a practice that required a hell of a lot of arm strength, then it will have to be a daily task of exercise for as long as possible before we got to our full strength. I collapsed in protest at that.

By the time Monday rolled around, the two of us could barely pick up a fork to eat, and Gladiola fretted over us as she helped shovel food onto our forks, whilst Bilbo glared daggers over the table at an amused Seathan, muttering under his breath about the ways he was going to set the man’s giant beard on fire.

---

“Oh, you two are going to have to show me what you’ve learnt on the way back!” exclaimed Gladiola as she folded our belongings into our packs, due to our arms and legs still unfortunately incapacitated. “And make sure you give that man the biggest thank you for what he’s done – not just anyone is willing to give up their time for strangers.”

“Yes mum.” Was all Kay groaned, voice muffled from where she was face-planted on her pillow. Slowly rolling over with a prolonged whine, she faced to where I was splayed out like a starfish on the next bed over. “We’re gonna die before we even reach the evening.” She mumbled, face half scrunched by the pillow.

“Now don’t say that.” Lectured Gladiola, whipping Kay’s ankle with a sock as she pattered by with the copious amounts of fabrics and ribbons she had bought, only receiving a short grunt in response. “We’ve got a four-day travel ahead of us, and with that mood, I’ll be forcing you both to carry mine and Bilbo’s packs.”

Slowly pushing herself up, copper strands still stuck to her face, Kay swung her legs over the bed. “Fine.” She mumbled. “We’re up.”

“Good.” Gladiola replied with a smile. “We should have left ten minutes ago, so Kate if you don’t get up we’re leaving you behind.” She half joked as she hauled our packs out the doorway.

“Girlie, c’mon.” Added Kay as she shook my ankle.

Reluctantly, I pushed myself up the best I could, trying to ignore the agonising aches all over my body as I laced up my boots and followed the two out the door.

---

“Now remember, you have to do the exercises I’ve given you at least an hour every day, and memorise the tips I’ve given you for hitting enemy’s weak spots.” Seathan lectured, handing us two sheets of parchment. “I’ve written them down here, and I’ve also thrown in some blunt steel swords so you can upgrade when you both feel ready to.”

Accepting the objects gratefully, we pushed some coins into the man’s hands so he could reward himself with some extra meals, thanked him profusely as we stood by the entrance gate to Bree, trying our best to ignore the lingering stare of the gatekeeper as he peered suspiciously at us.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” said Seathan, marching hurriedly over to a long leather pack that was propped against the wall surrounding the town. Returning to us, he loosened the strings of the pack and pulled the contents out.

“Here’s a set of throwing axes for Kay, and a bow and arrows for you, Kate. I also threw in some polish, oil, and tools for sharpening the blades of the axes and arrows, along with replacement strings for the bow and whatnot.”

“What?!?!” we both said consecutively.

“We can’t accept that –” “It’s too much! – ”

“I paid for it.”

Freezing, the two of us slowly turned until we faced Bilbo, who stared back, before sighing.

“You two can’t be taught all that and expect to leave with hardly anything.” He explained almost nonchalantly, pulling out the crumpled list we had written. “You wouldn’t have gotten anything on your list.”

A beat passed, before I flew down and scooped him up into my arms.

“WHAT THE – ” he sputtered.

“Father.” I said. He froze.

“Father.” Kay repeated, reaching over to continuously pat the curls on his head.

He whipped his head between us with panicked eyes. “WH- I’M NOT YOUR DAD – PUT ME DOWN!”

“Told you he adopted them.” We heard Gladiola mutter to Seathan.

Eventually placing him down, the two of us knelt down to drag him into a hug, despite his grumbling.

“Thank you.” Kay whispered. “For everything.”

With a sigh, he settled, reaching up to wrap his arms around us both. “You’re welcome, but for the love of Yavanna don’t make me regret any of it.”

With matching cheshire grins, we assured him we wouldn’t, before clambering up excitedly to receive the pack of shiny new weapons from Seathan. And within a few minutes, we were waving a hearty farewell to the blacksmith, yelling our goodbyes and thanks until he disappeared behind the closing gate.

Walking through the trees, we chattered away endlessly about the events of the past week, failing to see the two pairs of glowing blue eyes, watching us from the treeline.

---

2 MONTHS LATER

A couple months had passed since we had arrived back in the Shire, and a lot had happened since then.

We had shown Gladiola the techniques we were taught during the evenings when we were on our return trip, and she had pleaded that we taught her kids, saying how they had always wanted to play knights when they were younger. A couple weeks in, Kay and I had stumbled across a clearing on the outskirts of Hobbiton, surrounded by trees and seasonal wildflowers with a scenic view of the town from where it was further up one of the hills. It was a perfect spot; close enough to Bag End where Bilbo could sit on the bench by his front door and watch us, but the trees made it private enough for us to set up targets to practice both our weapons training, along with our magic, without the risk of someone stumbling upon us.

The most exciting part, however, was meeting Bertin Grubb, who owned the pony stables across town. After seeing the lean muscle we had begun to develop on our arms from the training, he had offered us a job assisting him with caring for the ponies, figuring we were tall and strong enough to handle the animals when they were being stubborn. It took a while getting used to, having to bend down excessively to use the small hobbit-sized wheelbarrow, or the rake with a handle too short for two girls at least twice the height of the average hobbit. But he eventually managed to get us some suitable enough, and we thoroughly loved every second, excited to finally be able to pay Bilbo back for everything he had done, especially when doing a job as fun as ours.

Except for shovelling the horse crap.

It stank.

---

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Friday, 5th May 2940 of the Third Age (Highday, 15th Thrimidge, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)

The sun was barely rising when Kay and I got up, readying ourselves for an early shift when we received a letter that Bertie had received two new animals and needed the extra hands earlier than normal.

Trudging down the path as the birds sang their morning song, we munched on the poached eggs buns Bilbo had shoved into our hands as we were about to step out the door, before he had promptly marched back to bed for a well-earned lie in.

Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I mumbled a conversation with Kay as we walked between the hedges lining the path. Soon enough, we neared the stables, only to see a frantic looking Bertie, who seemed to be nervously waiting for us whilst tightly clutching his cap between his short fingers by the wooden archway leading in. When his wide brown eyes landed on us as we rounded the corner, he cried out in relief.

“Oh thank Yavanna you’re here!” he cried, jogging over to us. “A friend of mine found them wandering the outskirts looking all muddy and he begged me to take them cause they were eating his crops but they’re so large I don’t know what to do with them! I –”

“Woah, woah! Hey!” I raised my voice slightly to cut off his rambling. “What do you mean large? What are they?”

“Horses!” he wailed, dragging his hands down his face. “Giant! Horses!”

Kay perked up, trying to look through the archway. “Really? Can we see them?”

Bertie looked up at her with a sweaty forehead and hopeful eyes. “That’s the thing.” He laughed meekly. “I was hoping you two could take charge of them? I’m afraid I might get stepped on if I go near them again.”

Following Bertie into the stables, he led us to the end stalls, to where there were two of possibly the tallest horses I had ever seen in my life.

One was patterned like a cow, black and white patches covering it’s body, the other pitch black, with only small, pure white socks colouring the ends its fluffy hooves, and a singular white star-like stripe running down its head.

Feeling like one of those girls in those magical horse novels, I slowly approached the black one, its features resembling those of a Shire horse – fitting, considering where we were. Kay’s looked like a Clydesdale, and I watched from the corner of my eye as she neared it, wonder glinting in her eyes as she offered her hand. I followed with my own, looking up at the beast that towered over me, the top of my head barely reaching its snout despite my tall height, as it’s black eyes peered back down to meet my own dark brown ones.

“Now you know why I can’t look after them myself.” Bertie half-laughed, flitting his eyes between the two animals, keeping his distance from the two animals as he watched, scuffing his heel against the floor like he wanted to bolt. “They’re girls, so hopefully won’t be territorial or anything that could cause issues with the ponies.”

I snorted. “I’m pretty sure you’ve just given the ponies two empresses to worship – they’ll probably follow them around the pasture like loyal minions whenever they’re together.” I grinned as I faced the poor hobbit, who looked on the verge of trembling.

He took a shaky breath. “Ok, well, you can do what you like with them, just make sure they don’t go mental and destroy half the place. Please.”

“I doubt they’ll do that.” Piped up Kay, who had now managed to start stroking the snout of her horse. “If you managed to get them here without a fuss, then they should remain docile.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Hopefully.”

After that, Bertie quickly wrapped up the conversation, clearly desperate to get elsewhere so he didn’t have to face the two powerhouses bunking in the stables next to each other. He had mumbled about finding saddles and equipment large enough for them, before quickly scurrying off.

Turning back to face the horse in front of me, I reached up to gently place my hand on its sloping snout. “What’re you naming yours?” I asked, turning to her.

Looking up at the pink snout that was trying to nibble at her hand, she pondered for a moment. “Mmm, something like Calhourn maybe.”

“Nice.” I complimented. “I thought you would’ve gone for something like Moo Moo.”

She snorted. “That’s something you would go for.” She paused. “But it is a strong contender. Perhaps I’ll have it as a nickname.” She turned to me. “What’re you gonna choose?”

“Spleens.”

“No.”

“Ok, how about Felony?”

“Better, cooler, sounds like a name, but maybe choose something more… socially acceptable.”

I grunted in annoyance. “I want a name that disturbs people when they hear it – it’ll be a good conversation starter.”

“It’ll also be a good way to start the conversation of creating Middle Earth’s first mental asylum.” Kay deadpanned. “You can name something like your first pet cat Spleens, but not a horse that you could be riding into battle and potentially have written down in history.”

“But it’ll be the most remembered.” I pouted.

“And the most judged. Now, save the poor horse her dignity and give her a nice name.” she demanded.

“Doo Doo Daggins.”

“I swear to god.”

“Ok! Ok!” I giggled, petting the horse’s snout as she nudged at my hand. “Something fancy then.”

She nodded. “Yea, maybe something that relates to something you do? I don’t know – your witch stuff has a lot of fancy words in it.”

My eyes lit up. “Ohh! What about Hecate!? It links to my practice, and could be some type of dedication to her as a deity!”

Kay raised her brows. “That’s actually not bad. You gonna give her a nickname?”

I pondered for a moment. “Yea. Spleens.”

Kay just sighed.

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

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theycalledmekay · 11 months ago

Text

This Means War

This is a William Ransom fan fiction work created on Wattpad by me.

Her name was Catherina. Princess of England, daughter of King George.

She was missing.

The posters were up everywhere in England and the 13 colonies. Even in North Carolina, where she was. She was hiding in the woods by a ridge. Frasier's Ridge. The house was beautiful, but she couldn't get close. She stayed in a tree.

Until the fateful night, she saw soldiers. If she were to be caught, they would send her back home, and who knew what was waiting for her there. Cece knew the man who had kidnapped her was dead. Long gone, in fact. Stephen Bonnet had been murdered. She had been glad when she found out.

She laid down on the branch she was on, carefully and quiet. If only the guards hadn't heard the snap. Her eyes widened.

"Who's there!" A not to familiar voice calls. The Frasier's were demanded to investigate. The man, with long red hair, finds her. She begs him to stay quiet with her eyes.

"There is no one here! Just a birds nest." He says the the soldier. "Get down then, Mr. Frasier!" The soldier sighs. "Lord John Grey will visit you in the morrow." The soldier walks off.

"Lass, what are yeh doin' in the tree?" The man asks her finally. "I was trying to nap as I've only stayed in this tree and done no harm." Cece replies. "Got a name, lass?" He asks her. "Uhm..." She couldn't use her real name... could she? No, everyone would know she was Catherina. "Cercei." She responds.

"Come along. Let's get you to the ridge before the soldier comes back." Once bathed and feeling much better, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser fed her, making her feel much better. "I apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. I didn't realize I was evading." Catherina apologized.

"Oh, it's quite alright, dear. My daughter saw you up there a few days ago. We were wondering why you were hiding." Mrs. Fraser says. "Come now. Let me lead you to your room where you may rest for the night." For the first time in months, Catherina slept well.

Many months later:

"Mistress Fraser -" "Yes, Cece! You can come with! We're sending Briana and Roger off. They are moving!" Claire invites her along. Holding Mandy and helping Jimmy, Cece went along with Bree to grab some items the children and her might need.

"Lord John!" Bree almost bumps into the man. Cece stops and freezes seeing the young British soldier. "Madam." He nods to her. Her breathing almost stops altogether, and she almost faints.

"Cersei!" Jimmy taps her arm. "Are you alright?!" The young boy asks. "Ah yes, Jim. I'm quite fine. Just had a bit of spell." She says softly. The soldier offers her his hand. "I can help you and the children back if you and the other Mistress don't mind."

Shruging his hand off and acting a bit hostile. The words she uttered next made the young soldiers rethink his action as if he had horrified the young woman. "I am fine. Perhaps, if you stayed away-" "Cersei!" Bree shrieked. "We don't speak to soldiers like that!"

"Red Coat!" Cersei hisses. "Rebel!" The soldier hisses under his breath. "She's not too keen on soldiers, I apologize. She claims she was kidnapped from England." The soldier realized who she was. "I understand. No ill intent. I insist on helping though, Miss-" "Cersei." She says softly.

"I do not need your assistance." She bows and hurries off with the children. "Father, how long has it been since the Princess has been missing?" William finally asks before he could be introduced to Bree. "Almost a year now. You don't seriously think that girl could be Catherina, do you?" Lord John Grey asks.

"I'm afraid you're right. See how defensive she got -" "She could be a rebel, Willie." Lord John Grey interupts. "I believe the Princess is long gone, my boy. She'll never be found." Lord John Grey shakes his head. "Some of us still have hope." William disagrees. He introduces himself to Bree and then walks off.

He sees Cersei again. She seemed in a better mood now. She noticed him again and he saw the guilt in her eyes. She approaches him.

"Good morrow." She chimes. "Good morrow." He bids. "I'd like to apologize about my terrible behavior earlier." She stops walking. Seeing as they are in the middle of a road, he gently moves her out of the way of a carriage.

She thanks him, softly. "All has been forgiven, Miss Cersei." He says, holding her arm steady as she slips in the mud. "I didn't quite catch your name, soldier." She says.

"Leftenant (Lieutenant) Lord Ellesmere William Ransom." He introduced himself. "Lady Cersei of York." She lies. He nods and bows. She gulps, taking a long breath. "Care to accompany me?" She asks.

He nods in agreement, and the two walk around the town. They talk for a decent while until dusk. "I'm afraid I must go, Mistress Cersei. It was quite an honor meeting you." He bows. She smiles.

"Rise soldier. I am no queen." She jokes. He smiles. "Until we meet again." He nods. "Until then, Leftenant." The two part ways. "What was that about?" Bree asks as Cece makes her return.

"Oh, nothing. Had to... Apologize to Lord Ellesmere." Cece smiles. "Did you get too overwhelmed?" Claire asks her. "Well... I believe so. Mistress, he seems.... indifferent." Cece says.

"Oh Pa, should we tell her!" Bree exclaims. "Don't trouble yerself lass. We may 'as well tell 'er." Jamie sighs. "Is it about Lord Ellesmere?" Cece asks. "Yes." Claire sighs. "As you know, I disappeared for almost twenty years. Jamie was serving out his parole in Helwater. A young woman by the name of Geneva Dunsany was infatuated with him. She was to wed the Eighth Earl of Ellesmere, Ludovic Ransom, who could not have children." Claire says.

Cece's jaw dropped.

"Don't say anymore. I think I understand. Cockoldry, correct. He's illegitimate. The illegal son of Mister Fraser and Lady Dunsany?" Cece says. "Yes." Jamie says. Cece thought about it.

As a princess, such a crime could have the man hanged for allowing it, however... No one knew she was the princess. "Your secret shall be safe with me." She nods. She thought back to the Lord of Ellesmere.

He did resemble Jamie very little. He even had the highlander fire in his eyes.

The battle of Saratoga:

Hiding in the trees, Cersei aimed her bow straight and true, waiting for the first brit to fire.

She was committing high treason for the Frasers, and she was damn sure going to keep them safe. The British stood in a line, straight and true.

The slight talking of two soldiers made her look over. She was gonna shoot one. She smirked and took her aim.

One of the Colonials fired. "You dumb shit!" Cece cursed.

She shot the other one, but he moved just as she fired. It took his hat clean off, and she gasped, "Lord Ellesmere!"

It seemed like he heard her cry as his gaze swept the area. His eyes seemingly landed on hers. Her look of shock and his of anger. He was speaking, but the rush of her heart was strong in her ears.

He drew his sword and charged with his men. His screams on the field made her feel guilty. She accidentally shot one of her own, making the brits yell, "Sniper!"

She rained down her army of arrows until she was out. Jamie saw this, and so did William. He fought with his highlander spirit, she could tell.

Jamie was suddenly knocked out, and the battle subsided. Most of the colonials were dead, many brits as well. She gulped, and she watched as all of them as they searched and searched for her.

She prayed that they wouldn't find her, but they did. "Look 'ey here. I say we use her -" "We bring her back as prisoner. You know the rules." William retorts.

"Come on down, Mistress. We won't hurt you." William tries to coax her. "Go away! I'm hunting!" She lies. "Hunting what? The Royal Army?!" One of the soldiers yelled.

"Please, Lady York! It's dangerous!" William sighs. All the soldiers gasped. "No one touch me except for Leftenant Ellesmere, then!" She promises. "Yes, Mistress." They abliged.

She slowly climbs down, sliding on the last moment and landing almost on her behind if Jamie hadn't caught her.

"Be a shame if the lass fell. Right lads?" He asks. He takes off running, most of the army after him, leaving William and Catherina alone. "Lady York, I apologize, but if you don't run now, you'll be hanged for treason." He says. "I know, Leftenant." She sighs. "My condolences. At least I shot your hat off." She jokes.

"I knew it." He chuckles. "I'll be in the trees, keeping you safe when I run." She smiles. "Go, now!" He gently nudges her. "See you again? On the battlefield?" She laughs, running.

"I hope not, Lady York." He calls after her, watching her run. He runs in the opposite direction, chashing after his father.

Jamie survived, and so did Catherina.

The battle of Saratoga 2:

The early morning signals the cries of war.

Saratoga. Another time.

Catherina shared the strategy. "They will be looking in the trees. They caught me there last time. If I make it past the fence and be on their side, they will assume I am with them." She chuckles. They nod.

"Be careful." Jamie warned. She nods. She runs across and finds a tree. Climbing it, she nestled herself into the hollow part where it almost split off.

The drums start, and the battle slowly commences. Waiting until the right time, she notices them trying to shoot and kill General Fraser. Her aim would be true until she notices. "Not again!" She groans. She shoots Lord Ellesmere this time.

In the hand. His shriek made the Brits panic. It wasn't deep, and he released who it was.

"Damn woman." He mumbles under his breath. He fights, pulling the arrow out. Suddenly, they come face to face with each other.

"Cersei!" He grabs her, pulling her out of the way of another soldier. "Kill me." She begs. "I'd rather you than anyone else." William gulps at those words.

Taking a deep breath, he choked her gently, causing her to pass out. He fights until most men are dead. They retreat, and he looks over at Cersei.

"Aye Leftenant Ellesmere killed the sniper!" The men cheer. William sighed and pretended to be happy until one of his men got shot with her arrow.

He turned swift as did the others. "Heed my warning!" He stares at her in shock at her words. "She's just begging to be killed, isn't she!" General Fraser sighs, but then he collapses.

"General!" William rushes to him immediately. Everyone turns to them.

He sighs, "Damn woman!" William curses, again. Everyone agrees with him. They trugg on, eventually forgetting about her, hoping to save General Fraser in time.

Unfortunately, they didn't. General Fraser died not much after they got back to camp. William grieved him.

Camp:

Leftenant Lord Ellesmere was enjoying being out of battle. He really dreaded it. Until a curly haired woman angrily grabbed him. He stared in shock. Mistress Fraser.

".... basic necessities of care for your prisoners. Sir, are you hearing me?" When she noticed his strange face.

"I-" He stutters. He chuckles. "I beg your pardon, Madam. I do believe I know you?" He questions it. "Your Mistress Fraser, are you not?" He smiles. Her eyes sparkled with recognition.

"I am." "I am Leftenant Lord Ellesmere, William Ransom." He bows. "I visited your home on Fraser's Ridge when I was still a boy." He stopped a moment and noticed a certain look in her eyes. "You saved my father's life." The realization sets in for him at that moment, too. Claire Fraser was a rebel.

"William." She smiles. "You're a rebel?" He asks as he turns back to face her, realizing where she had been. She nods, "Yes."

She feels a bit disappointed. After this exchange, with some bandages and food brought to the prisoners, William was left with his head reeling.

He went to his tent to grab something, and he walked in and saw her.

Immediately, he closed the flap, making sure no one saw her. "Cersei." He glares. "Leftenant-" He covers her mouth.

"Leftenant? Has anyone seen Lord Ellesmere?" He hears someone calling for him. She stares in horror. He silently tells her to be quiet. They sneek out the other side and run to the Forrest not that far at the edge of his camp.

Cersei giggles, "That was fun! Let's do it again!" "I'm afraid not. This is where I leave you." He sighs. "Leftenant!" She grabs his arm.

"Cersei, if you get caught here, you will be captured. I don't want another rebel I know in my prisoner quarters." He sighs. "Leftenant, I- William..." She sighs.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright." She looks down. "You've never been fond of... what do you Yankees call us British.... Red Coats?" He teases. "Aye, we call them Red Coats. Because they have red coats stained with blood." She pretends.

He smiles. "You should go." He warnes her. "I wanna stay." She keeps her hand entangled in his. "Lady York-" He sighs.

"Lord Ellesmere-" "Run!" He pushes her gently. She stares in shock and suddenly runs off. "What was that about?" One of the other men asks him.

"Just a random girl asking about the war. Such a strange girl." He turns to his soldier. "Leftenant, Mistress Fraser got her items." He nods. "Thank you." William says.

The soldier walks off, and William sees Cersei farther ahead, in another clearing, picking some flowers. He smiled.

That poor innocent girl was gonna get herself killed. He walked back to camp. It was slowly getting later and then he saw her.

Dressed as an Native American. "Cece!" Claire pulls on her dress. "Not a worry, Claire. I can-" She turns and freezes. "Lord Ellesmere." She looks at her feet. "Cersei." He sighs.

Suddenly, a fire starts. He glares. "Take her. I saw nothing." He nods. Cersei helps Claire get to the exit, but not before she runs back to William, who had turned to walk away.

"Lord Ellesmere." He turns to face her. She kisses his cheek and runs off. How.... interesting. His gaze lingers on the exit after he watches her disappear. Interesting.

Many months later, after the war:

William walks inside. "Father-" He freezes seeing.... Mac. His head reeled. For a moment, hearing him speak. A voice so familiar.

"William James." His jaw dropped.

Lord John Grey turned to his son. "Willie-" "You will not call me such a name!" Everyone stared at him. "William-" "I know all I need to!" William goes to storm out. "William!" It was Cersei.

He huffs and walks away anyway. "William!" Catherina hurries after him. He doesn't stop. "William, please!" He turns.

"What do you want?!" He snaps. At this point, they were deep in the forest by Fraser Ridge. "Apologize!" She stops him by grabbing his arm. She had decided not to tie up her hair today. Worst mistake of her life.

"I will do no such thing." He pulls away from her. "William!" She yells at him.

"You can't command me! You are not the king of England!" He yells back. "You are so petulant!" She screamed. "At least I'm not a princess!" He growls. "At least I'm not a bastard!" She responds.

His hand connects with her cheek. She gasps, and he looks at her, horror in his eyes. "Catherina!" He grabs her arm as she goes to run off. "I didn't mean to harm you." He pleads with her.

He gently gets on his knees in front of her. "Get up!" She whispers. "Get up!" She changes her tone to a yell. He gets up swiftly.

"I could have you and your family hanged, but I won't. It's a privilege knowing a princess, isn't it." She growls.

"Such a high rank and yet as a bastard you feel you don't deserve it and -" "Hush." William whispers softly. "You think that one will know-" "SHUT IT!" William snaps.

"YOUR SUCH AN ADDLE PATE!" She screams. "You can be so awful and-"

He shuts her up by grabbing her arms and throwing her forward. Their lips connect, and she freezes up. He pulls away almost immediately, ashamed by his actions.

She stares at him in shock, eyes pooling with tears. "Catherina, I-" "Catherina is in England... Cersei is in North Carolina." She says softly as a tear slowly slides down her cheek.

She wipes it forcefully. "I deeply apologize, Lord Ellesmere. I shouldn't have called you a bastard and such other foul names."

She turns and runs to away from him. "Cersei!" He calls after her. He sighed and sat on a log. This princess was gonna be the death of him.

Part 2?? And for anyone wondering, an "Addle Pate" is a foolish or dumb witted person

#outlander #claire fraser #jamie fraser #queen #queen of england #william ransom #lord john grey #my first fic #foryou #enjoy #part 2 coming soon

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littleperilstories · 1 year ago

Text

The Prince of Thieves: Every Man Must Choose His Way

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro

Warnings: Gunshot wound, stitches, angst

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Word count: 3189 || Approx reading time: 13 mins

Every Man Must Choose His Way

Teaser: At my gasp—pain is ripping through my entire goddamn abdomen—Bree Cooper jerks awake in the chair where she was dozing. For a moment, I do not know where I am or why everything hurts or what happened that led up to this moment.

Jamie

When Will and I were kids, things were easy and soft, even when they weren’t. He was always pissing someone off, and yet miraculously he always seemed to worm his way out of things, and sometimes he even managed to get what he wanted. Including the time he came home with the dog.

“You can’t keep it,” I remember telling him. “Joe will kill you.” I liked to think of myself as the man of the house back then, when Dad was away building the new railroad along the stretch of coast that would eventually become his tomb. And I knew our landlord Joe wouldn’t be happy if we suddenly had a dog yelping into the deep hours of the night.

That was how it always was: Will did something silly, and I tried to talk him out of it.

He turned his ridiculous eyes to me with a mournful expression that so perfectly matched the puppy he was clutching in his arms that suddenly I forgot all the reasons we couldn’t keep a dog.

Just as I can still hear my time-misted voice, so stern and childish at once, telling him to take it back where he found it, I can still see, too, the look on his face when I went back on my refusal. “Fine,” I said, “but that mutt is yours. You need to take care of it.”

“She’s not a mutt,” he insisted. “She’s perfect.”

She was—which was less than true about the next puppy he brought home a few days later.

“Don’t even think about it!” I had no idea where he was even finding those beasts, and I never found out.

“Jamie, look at her!”

Some cursed compulsion had me stretching out my hand to stroke the dog’s silky ears. She took one look at me, sank her little puppy teeth into my thumb, and we were inseparable for years.

If Will was chaos, his pup was calm. If I was reason, then my dog was pure bedlam.

“I’ll never understand why you chose that one,” Ma said. It was a few months before she died. Her eyes were still clear, body failing but her mind still with us. I think I was nursing a new scratch along my arm, cursing and swearing while the damn creature sat on her haunches looking at me with a look of innocence on her deceptive goddamn little face.

“Neither do I,” I grumbled, pressing a mass of cotton to my arm to soak up the blood. But I knew—and Ma did, too—that if anything had happened to her, I would have fallen apart.

Ma blinked and smiled and puckered her lips at my little mutt as if to kiss her. The dog growled back.

When I open my eyes, Ma is gone, and so are the dogs. So is Will.

At my gasp—pain is ripping through my entire goddamn abdomen—Bree Cooper jerks awake in the chair where she was dozing. For a moment, I do not know where I am or why everything hurts or what happened that led up to this moment.

Fuck.

“How are you…” Bree’s words trail off when I try to shift. “Wait. Wait for Allan. Don’t pull on the—”

The wound.

God, I took a fucking musket ball in my side.

Allan. I can dimly conjure his image, though he doesn’t seem to be in the room now. Earlier, I woke up with rain pelting me in the face, and he was there, soaked through and perfectly calm, giving Bree Cooper quiet instructions as if he’d been born to patch up torn flesh in the mud.

“Will,” I manage. God, I sound rough. “Is he… Did he…” I remember gasping at her in the mud, feeling the sickening mix of icy rain and blood gushing hot against my skin. He got out. “He did get away, right?”

Bree nods. “With Geoff.”

“Hurt?” She shakes her head. “Both of them?”

“They were both all right, I think.”

Although it seems like she’s about to say something, she cuts herself off when someone else enters—the mysterious Allan, I suppose.

“Hello.” He pauses next to me, and I realize I’m sprawled not on a bed but on a table. “I’m pleased to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Like I got shot? Instead of answering, I say, “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Allan. I’m the med—” He stops. “I’m a doctor. I’ve done my best to patch up that wound in your side.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Bree and Allan exchange a glance that appears almost wary, and I wonder what the fuck I missed while I was bleeding and unconscious. When no one responds, I ask, “Why are you helping us?”

Again, that long pause.

“I just got out of training,” says Allan, and I’ll take it, even though that doesn’t answer the question. “Wrote my exam a few weeks ago. Took the first job I was offered—for the constabulary.” The moment he sees me trying to jerk upright, he presses a hand to my shoulder. It’s embarrassing how little pressure it takes to push me back down. “I do not work for them anymore.”

“I don’t understand.” Pressure is building in my chest, panic, fuck, it’s getting harder to breathe.

“I’ve seen how they… What they’re like behind closed doors.” He glances at Bree and her cuts. “I cannot respect them. I certainly can’t work for them.”

Slogging through everything he’s said, I ask, “You met Will?”

“Briefly, yes.”

“Was he hurt bad?”

“Not as badly as before they hired me, from what I understand.” At this, Bree turns her head away. The only one who knows just how bad it was before.

“How do I know we can trust you?” I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if he says, You don’t.

He absently reaches into what I assume is a bag somewhere behind my head, rummaging quietly within. “I tried…” He clears his throat, as if he isn’t sure how to go on. “I tried. To help your brother with what I could. He wouldn’t let me get too close.”

I think of Will on his knees, held down by the constables, looking at me with hollow terror in his eyes.

“And I don’t blame him.” Allan shudders. “He looked at me with such…” The thought ends abruptly, and he stops fiddling with whatever is in his bag. “I saw the way the constables treated him and everyone else in there. I don’t blame him for not trusting me.”

Somewhere in the distance, I can hear other voices, footsteps, the clattering of pots and pans, the scraping of chairs. Must be some sort of boardinghouse where he lives. A regular house, out in the real world, not the one we made for ourselves through IA, just people going about their lives, unbothered by constables and the back-breaking terror of living on the edge every single day. What would be different if I had worked harder to catch that kind of future in my hands rather than grasping the one I did? How would Will’s life have turned out? Who would he—we—be instead?

“I think he might’ve tried to bite me if he got the chance.” The corners of Allan’s mouth twitch, so I can tell he’s trying to be funny, and I know I should be pissed off at the joke. But I’m so tired, and everything hurts like hell, and if I’m being honest, he’s probably right. Grudgingly, I mutter as much out loud.

“I’m sorry for leaving you on the table like this.” Allan gestures to my less-than-comfortable bedding. “I didn’t want to risk moving you. You lost a lot of blood with all the moving around earlier.”

“I don’t care.” Hell, does he think I haven’t slept on a hard floor before? It’s not much different. “Is it bad?”

He tips his head from side to side, as if he’s deciding how to answer. “The musket ball wasn’t lodged in there, but still—it’s worse than that,” he says, nodding towards Bree, and for the first time I notice the bandage around her upper arm. “I’ll need to watch carefully for infection. Black powder is… Well, it can be nasty.”

“It didn’t hurt when I fell.” I frown as I try to remember. “Not really.”

“Well, it will if it becomes infected.” Allan peers down at the bandages on my side. “I’d prefer not to disturb those just yet. How is your pain now?”

“Unpleasant.”

That gets tight smiles out of both of him and Bree. “I mean, how strong is your pain at the moment?”

“Unpleasantly strong.”

Nodding, sighing softly, Allan steps back and glances around the room. “Would you prefer to stay where you are, or try to shift to the bed?”

I don’t have to waste much energy on that question; the thought of moving anywhere is nauseating. “I’ll stay.”

A memory drifts to mind—Will sprawled on a table just like I am now, bandages around his abdomen, too. “Gonna have a scar to match Will’s.”

Bree murmurs, “I think I saw that scar. What happened?”

“He jumped into a fight about two years ago.” Thinking of it still makes my insides shrivel. “Being chivalrous. Helping some girl. In a fucking snowstorm, no less.”

Helping some girl he didn’t know. Unbidden, the image of him during the trade invades my thoughts again. For all his faults, when he wants to, Will can be selfless. He’s good. Yet they made him suffer… Again and again, they hurt him…

So lost in this spiral, I miss the look on Bree’s face until Allan prods her gently, “What’s the matter?”

“A—A fight?” She looks stricken. “What happened? How’d he—”

“Stabbed. Don’t know much else.” I don’t know why she cares so much about something that happened years ago. “He was always cagey on the details.”

She’s got her hand pressed to her mouth. I take another few moments to realize she’s holding back tears. “I didn’t know he was hurt so badly that night.”

“Why would you have kn…” I stop, realizing what she’s saying. For fuck’s sake, the universe is cruel—it likes to play tricks—but this is too much. “It was you?”

My memory of that night: whipping wind and a stolen kiss. Colette’s tangled skirts and Will’s bloody shirt. Terror we might never find him, and spilled-over anger when we finally did.

Even though Will told us why he got a knife in his gut that night, I never thought much about the other character in the story, the one I never saw.

“I didn’t know,” she says, slightly frantic, “I really didn’t, I never would have just walked away if I had known—”

Allan is glancing between us, brows furrowed. “I can see we’re getting distressed here,” he interrupts, “although I’m not entirely sure why. I’m going to go to the kitchen and heat some water. Make some tea. Get some broth going.” To me, he says, “No getting up.” To her, the command is, “Don’t let him get up, and no more upsetting stories, if you please.”

I’m certain this bluntness will make her cry for real, but Bree laughs hollowly. “No promises.”

“Hmm. I mean it.” He disappears.

After a moment, Bree says, “He’s an…interesting fellow.” She’s completely abandoned the previous thread of conversation, per Allan’s instructions, but her voice still quivers.

I watch the doorway through which he vanished. “Do you think we should be trusting him like this?” It’s a question I’d normally ask Colette. But Colette isn’t here.

Bree waits a moment to answer. “He sent the constables in the wrong direction. Pointed them away from where you fell. Do you remember?” I shake my head. “And he helped you anyway even after I tried to throw a rock at his head.”

The laugh this draws out of me sends a wave of fire through my side. “Tried?”

“I missed.” She points toward the bandage on her arm.

The lure of sleep is dangling over me, trying to pull me into its warm embrace—alluring in its promise to dull the pain at least for a while. The prospect of tea, however, is enticing, even if it won’t be as good as Geoff’s. “Maybe it’s a good thing you did.”

She nods.

Silence falls between us. Sleep pulls a little harder on my mind, and her gaze is far away, thoughts apparently completely elsewhere. But there’s something I need to say before I fall asleep.

“You…” My voice draws back her attention. “You came back for me.”

She doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Thank you,” I say, “for—for running back. I think you might have—”

“I did it for Will,” she says, cutting me off. “He… He would have run back himself. If Geoff had let him.” She blinks rapidly, and I know she’s holding back tears. “After everything, he would have run back anyway. For you.”

I close my eyes against her gaze, where I see the simmering anger I know I deserve. Will was arrested in my place, was tortured trying to protect me, and only didn’t throw himself back into the arms of constables because Bree risked it for him instead.

“I’m sorry,” I say. She, too, suffered. “I—”

“And I know what you did,” she says, every word rushed, as if she can’t stop them now from spilling out, “sending that message. To the constables. Trying to trade yourself for Will.” When I open my eyes, I catch the last moment of her wiping a tear from her cheek. “And that…. That was… It was courageous. And selfless. But then—but lying to everyone about it—and then guilting everyone else about lying to you.” Her cheeks turn red. “That wasn’t.”

Shit.

“So…” I barely know her, and I shouldn’t care what she thinks, and yet… “I didn’t do it for you. It was for him.”

I want to say something, but when I open my mouth, I realize I have nothing to say.

“I didn’t say anything. You tell them yourself.” She still won’t look at me. “So you better not fucking die. Because if you do, it’ll kill Will, too.” She turns away.

“Thank you, anyway,” I say again, not know how else to respond. I think it comes out in a stutter. “For saving my life.”

“I didn’t.” Her fingers flutter against the bandage on her arm. The sleeve of her shirt—my old shirt—is cut just above the cotton, a faint line of rusty brown staining the fraying threads. “He did.”

Heavy silence hits again, and I let it crush me.

I’m about to drift off into what will surely be nightmares when there’s a crash and a yelp from the other room.

“What the—” Allan’s voice bursts into more of a choke.

Someone else is in there with him.

Fuck.

Bree leaps to her feet, paling. Where did they come from? The front door is in this room, which means they got into the kitchen through the—

“I have some questions,” a familiar voice says, “and you’re going to answer them for me. Now.”

I don’t need anything more to know who’s in there, or what the hell she’s doing.

“Colette! Put the knife down!” At my words, Bree’s face goes from stricken to astonished. “I’m in here!”

“Jamie?”

A scuffling sound—a sharp intake of air—footsteps—and then Colette torrents in.

“Oh, god.” She’s here, alive, she’s all right, gripping my hands tightly enough to hurt. “I was so scared you were dead.”

“Well, you know,” I say, so relieved I’d be laughing if I didn’t think it would split my side right open. “Almost.”

Allan hovers in the doorway to the kitchen, one hand pressed against the side of his neck. “You all have very interesting ways of getting to know people. Violent. Perhaps unnecessarily so.”

Colette glares at him, the daggers in her eyes sharper than the one in her hand. “Allan Armstrong Dale, huh?”

Coughing in a way that sounds suspiciously like it’s covering a laugh, Bree takes over the explanation, which I’m grateful for.

“If you’re a turncoat,” Colette says once she’s heard the story, glancing around Allan’s apartment, “coming back here probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Won’t they come looking for you?”

With a gulp, he says, “I didn’t think of that.” Pacing around a little, Allan goes on, “Maybe they think I’m dead?” After a few moments, we realize he’s musing, mumbling to himself more than us. “Well… I suppose I wasn’t supposed to be there, so perhaps not…”

“Jamie,” Colette says, talking over his muttering, “you can’t stay here. Will is going to lose his mind if he doesn’t know you’re all right.”

I wince. “How is he?”

Her fingers squeeze mine again. “As fine as can be, but I’m scared he’ll go looking for you and end up getting arrested again.”

Just like Bree said.

The very thought of moving is a torment, but I have no choice. “All right. Where did you go?”

She hesitates—actually stumbles over her words. “We’re—Well—” She takes a deep breath. “They’re with my family.”

Hearing that is like taking another musket ball. “What?”

“I left them with my family.”

“You have a family?”

“Obviously I—”

“You have a family who’s still alive?”

Huffing a sigh, she drops my hands. “Yes. And I don’t feel like talking about it because—”

“In six years, you never said a damn thing!”

“Um, can I interrupt?”

We both swing our heads to look at Allan, who is done talking to himself and reapproaching warily. “Might I suggest that it’s hardly the time to be having this argument?” He points to me. “You’re going to exhaust yourself even more and I’d really prefer not to redo your stitches if I don’t have to.”

“Fine. It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Colette folds her arms. “He can’t stay here.” Glaring at him, she adds, “He’s coming with us.”

“No.” For the first time, Allan’s voice turns harsh. “Are you mad? Look at him. He needs rest.”

“Then I’ll…” Colette bites her lip. “I’ll send a carriage.”

A rich family who’s still alive, apparently.

With a sigh, she says to Bree and Allan, “It’ll be crowded, I suppose, but it’s best if you come along, too. Unless you have somewhere safe to go.”

Allan frowns as if he isn’t sure.

“May as well,” Colette says, impatience colouring her voice. “If you’re in it, you’re in it. One of us now.”

“I wouldn’t go that f—”

Ignoring him again, Colette says, “Don’t you dare die, Jamie. Will and Geoff are waiting for you.”

Mostly through the conversation, Bree has been silent. Now she glances at me with sharpness—and sadness—in her eyes. “He won’t.”

With a tight smile, Colette presses a kiss against the top of my head, a rare and unexpected show of affection. “Good. Now take your rest. I’ll be back for you. Soon.”

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