#but aragorn would just roll his eyes and explain that he’s known to do that and no one fcking knows why

[achillyscomedown]

ngl i feel like during the fellowship of the ring if the company stopped for a break during their travels and legolas just started doing a jig or smt literally no one would bat an eye

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

***

Chapter 12

Minas Tirith

Margaery lowered the latest letter Sansa had sent her and thought about it.

“Are you going to talk to Queen Lucy?” Loras wanted to know.

“Sansa suggested it.” Margaery admitted, her voice thoughtful. “Apparently she is now friends with the other Queen of Narnia.”

Loras smirked. “Are you jealous?”

Margaery rolled her eyes. “I am not that kind of woman.”

Loras scoffed. “Maybe we should…” Noises coming from the hallway cut his sentence, making him frown. “Stay here.” He asked his sister, hand going to his sword as he marched to the door.

Margaery waited as her brother went out of her room. She wasn’t concerned -yet -as these didn’t seem like noises of alarm.

“More Narnians arrived.” Loras informed her once he came back.

Margaery frowned. “Then why the commotion?”

“Apparently they saw Lord Boromir somewhere, and you know how Lord Denethor feels about his precious son.”

The lady hummed. She was almost sure Denethor would tell her all about it later, so she didn’t need to hurry out of the room.

However, it was likely that Queen Lucy would be a bit distracted. She’d talk to her later.

***

“I demand to know about my son’s destination!”

“I do not know where Lord Boromir was headed to.” Asterius said, not for the first time. “We met them by the Anduin and then parted ways.”

“You should have an inkling of his direction.” Denethor insisted. “Of his condition…”

“Lord Boromir seemed fine.” Asterius reported. “We did not speak for long. He gave me directions and asked me to let his family know he was alright.”

“I do not believe my son would conceal from me his destination.” Denethor pressed.

“I cannot give information I do not have, my lord.” The minotaur threw back.

“Lord Denethor, this is quite enough.” Queen Lucy stepped in front of Asterius. It did nothing to actually cover him -considering his size -but it was the gesture that counted. “Asterius brought you news of your son, and you are treating him as a criminal. I understand your concern over your son, but Asterius has nothing to gain by hiding information from you.”

The Regent sunk deeper into his chair and sighed. “Who was he with?”

“A dwarf by the name of Gimli, an elf called Legolas, a man. Aragorn was his name.”

That made Denethor straighten his chair. “Aragorn? The ranger?”

“I do not know if he was a ranger.” Asterius admitted. “Just that he was called Aragorn, and he seemed close to Master Boromir.”

Denethor mumbled something to himself, but the Narnians were soon free from the room.

“This man…” Lucy grumbled.

“He does love that son.” Edmund winced. “Poor Faramir.”

Lucy looked at Asterius. “Was he really fine?”

“I think we should have that conversation in private, my lady.”

Lucy and Edmund exchanged looks, but led Asterius to a place where they could talk. The minotaur explained to them in detail what Queen Susan had decided, how she’d given him the drop of the cordial and told him to use it at the right moment. He told them about the group’s difficulty to move out of Rohan and how they found Lord Boromir by accident.

“It was no accident.” Edmund sighed. “Susan was right and it was meant to be.”

“It was timely, that is for certain.” Asterius agreed. “They left to chase after their friends.”

Edmund nodded. “Did they ask anything?”

“They wanted to know why we were there. And also… If we knew anything about the people from Westeros.”

Edmund hummed. “Did Lord Boromir mention he met Lady Tyrell on the road?”

Asterius shook his head and Lucy scoffed softly. “I do not think it was an accident.”

“You are very convinced of this woman’s wicked powers.” Edmund observed.

She took a deep breath in. “I am sorry. There is just something about her…”

“I do not know anything about Lady Tyrell and Lord Boromir never mentioned a previous acquaintance.” Asterius spoke up, distracting the siblings from the previous topic. “However, I wish to talk to Lord Faramir. His brother asked me to talk to him. Had I known his father was…”

“That is a whole other thing.” Edmund nodded in understanding.

“Let us look for Lord Faramir.”

***

“I feel like he is lying to me.” Denethor grumbled.

Margaery held in a sigh. “Lord Denethor.” She called softly. “Lord Boromir is a smart man. Why would he tell a stranger his destination?” She indicated. “Especially a stranger that hails from another land.”

Denethor scoffed.

Margaery had been thinking a lot about what Sansa had written in her letter. The son of the King of Rohan was dead, and the man himself was not well. His heir had been banished from the land, and she was going to try and find him.

Margaery wasn’t a strategist - not when it came to war - but perhaps the whispers they were hearing really meant something darker was coming.

Denethor himself was convinced the days of Gondor were numbered, but she could hardly tell if it was paranoia or something else.

She couldn’t tell if open war was really that close or not.

However, it would take days for a letter to arrive in King’s Landing and even longer for an army. If things were as urgent as some seemed to think they were, it might not be enough time.

But dragons could fly there faster.

Margaery covered Lord Denethor’s hand with hers. “My lord. What if I write to my Queen and kindly ask her to come with her dragons?”

***

Lucy watched as Lord Faramir talked to Asterius, clearly pleased to hear from his brother.

She hadn’t met Lord Boromir, but it turned her stomach to hear Lord Denethor talking of his eldest son as if he was the only one. He seemed to think Faramir was weak willed, not as brave or as strong as his brother. He also made no secret of that.

It made Lucy’s heart squeeze painfully. Faramir was a kind and caring man, and she didn’t believe for a minute that the Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien wasn’t a brave man, willing to fight for his country.

The man in question had finished his conversation with Asterius and walked up to her, a smile on his lips. “Your Majesty.” He bowed her head.

“Lord Faramir.” She smiled back. “I hope Asterius’ words gave you confort.”

“More than I dared to hope.” He admitted. “I am glad to hear that my brother if fine.”

“Are you two close?” She asked, interested.

“We are. Boromir has been nothing but a great example and inspiration to me.”

“I see.”

Faramir made a gesture to indicate she should start walking, then took his place next to her. “He is a great man.”

“But so are you.” She told him.

Faramir’s laughter was a bit strained, even as he blushed. “You are too kind, my lady.”

“I only speak the truth, Lord Faramir.”

He cleared his throat. “We hardly know each other.”

“That is so.” She agreed. “However, I tend to have a good eye for these things.”

Faramir’s smile this time was soft, his eyes gentle. Lucy felt a tug on her heart.

***

“Hum.”

“My King?” Asterius asked, turning to Edmund.

“Hum.”

The minotaur frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Edmund’s eyes were fixed on his sister and Lord Faramir. “Not really. I just have a… Feeling.”

[skyeet-the-writer]

Lady of Enmond

Chapter One: Ale and Disappearings of Little Folk

here it is. another hyperfixation. see, i would promise ya'll updates for other things, but i promise you all nothing. plus i'm in college and i'm already depressed. BUT lotr always makes me better so i mayyyyy be updating this one as i rewatch the movies. again, no promises. BUT let me know if ya'll want me to continue anything else, and I'll see what i can do!! love you guys! x.

legolas greenleaf x female!reader

summary: y/n is accompanying her friend, aragorn, on some mission given to him by gandalf the grey. she doesn't know what it is and doesn't care as long as she has ale in her hand, but she quickly changes her mind when a little-folk vanishes before her very eyes

word count: ~3.1k

warnings: cursing, weapons drawn but not used, mention of death/killing

next>

Sitting in this dark corner of the Prancing Pony, you try to busy yourself with working on your second pint of mead, ignoring the looks both you and Aragorn are getting. No, it's Strider out here.

"You've been staring at those four Hobbits for almost an hour," you mutter to him, tracing your finger along the rim of your mug. "It's getting a little odd, friend."

Strider just grunts, a pipe in his mouth.

With a roll of your eyes, you drop the subject for the moment. Aragorn has always been a mysterious man, quite broody. It's a surprise you're even friends with him.

Aragorn has been your friend for many years. You first met him in a pub while off venturing away from your secure forest village of Enmond. You had always hated staying in one place and, as heir, you never had much of a chance to leave and explore, always too busy with your duties.

You had accidentally bumped into him while taking back a glass of mead to your table. You apologized profusely and quickly steered out of his way, much too afraid of this tall and cloaked character. But you allowed him without hesitation when he kindly asked to sit at your table. In hindsight, it was quite foolish, though how else are you to meet new people?

As time passed and you both went your separate ways, you kept in touch with ravens, occasionally meeting up for a night of drinks and dances. As time passed, he revealed his past to you and yours to him.

He's one of your only friends now.

Yet you're still not quite sure why you're here with him. He had sent you a raven not a fortnight ago explaining this task given to him by a man in a cloak and a tall hat. Gandalf. You knew the name, everyone did. The wizard had instructed he protect these Hobbits in their coming journey, as one of them was carrying something of great importance.

Of course, you went along. You could never say no to an adventure.

Tapping your foot to the tavern songs, you soon found yourself lulling into the comfort of the Prancing Pony. It was no different than any other inn you'd been to, still just as cozy and lively as any. It was your second favorite place to be, probably.

You're not sure how much time has passed and you soon finish your mug. You ask Aragorn if you should have another, but even you know better, as your words are already slurring together.

Aragorn gives you a smile under the hood and puts your empty mug in front of himself. "I think you've had quite enough, Y/N."

You shrug and sink into your seat. "I guess you're right, as usual. You always seem to be right."

Aragorn just laughs lightly and returns his attention to the small-folk. You follow his gaze and see one with curly hair talk to the barkeep. They both turn to you and you tense up slightly. Over the chatter of the bar, you can just make out what they're saying.

"One of them rangers...What his right name is, I don't know. But 'round these parts he's known as Strider."

The barkeep quickly moves away and the Hobbit repeats the name. Aragorn's pipe puffs and you resist asking for it. With your head gently thumping on the stone, you sigh. You're bored. What are you waiting for? Maybe you should order another ale? You're also hungry, maybe you should order the Thieve's Stew? You've seen a few people with it, and it looks quite delicious.

And so you wave over a barmaid, a quite pretty one at that, and ask, "Excuse me, but could I have a bowl of your Thieve's Stew?"

She smiles and nods. "Yes, my lady, that'll be right up."

You thank her and watch as she walks towards the back.

Aragorn gives you a look and you shrug. "What? I'm hungry. I'll let you have some."

He laughs and shakes his head.

Aragorn keeps his eyes on the Hobbit as the lady brings you your stew, setting it down in front of her. With a smile, you hand her a couple of silver coins, winking. She grins, stows them in a pocket, and walks away.

In your bowl is a delicious meal. It smells very meaty and brothy. It looks like it has noodles and beef, two of your favorite things. With a fork, you quickly dive in, relishing the excellent taste. It's yummy and hearty, something different from your village's high-vegetable diet. Not that your father's cooking isn't fantastic, either.

You quickly devour half of the bowl before you look up at Aragorn. "Want some?"

Aragorn doesn't answer you, and he is instead watching something intensely. Following his gaze, as you spoon another bite of stew into your mouth, you see that the Hobbit that was previously talking to the innkeeper is messing with something small in his hands. He's twirling it, and his eyes close.

That's not normal.

"Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins."

The Hobbit's head whips towards the bar, and you follow. There's another Hobbit sitting at the bar, a pint in his hand. He seems a little buzzed, his cheeks all flushed and red in the candlelight. He's talking with a group of men and gesturing in the other Hobbit's direction.

"He's over there," he says. "Frodo Baggins." He gives him a small wave before turning back to the men. "He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side. And my third cousin, twice removed..."

You don't hear the rest of his speech, watching Frodo, the Hobbit sitting at the table, stand quickly and make his way toward the bar. He seems...panicked? You slowly lift another spoonful into your mouth. Aragorn's hand drifts down, removing the pipe from his mouth.

"What is he...?" you ask slowly, words muffled from the noodles.

Frodo quickly grabs the Hobbit's arm, but stumbles over a foot, falling towards the ground. As he falls, something drops from his hand. A small object glints up in the air before falling back down. Aragorn sits up straighter. The group of men watches Frodo fall, but as the glint reaches the floor, Frodo lifts his pointer finger up. To catch it?

Then he vanishes.

You gasp, lifting a hand to your mouth as men gasp, pointing at the group where Frodo once was.

"What the hell?" you ask, dropping your spoon. Your eyes must have deceived you, there's no way he just vanished. That's not possible.

Aragorn stands quickly, hood pulled even lower over his face. "Help me find him, Y/N."

You gape at him, standing and grabbing your cloak. Is this what you were waiting for? "Help you find him? He just vanished, Strider!"

Aragorn does not seem to hear you, however, scanning the room quickly. Quick, loud conversations break out, and fingers are being pointed towards the bar where people are scrambling around, shouting.

You scan the bar. You see the three other Hobbits make their way towards each other, whispering, looking anxious. Where is the other one? Frodo. Was that his name?

Finally, you spot him beside a table. He's shaking his head, panting, and looking around. He's sweating, too.

"There," you say to Aragorn, but he's a step ahead of you.

Quickly, he grabs the Hobbit by the shoulder and hauls him up and towards the stairs. Taking this as your queue to follow, you walk back towards the table. Shoveling the last two bites of stew into your mouth and throwing several coins on the table, you grab your bow and quiver, and follow.

Walking up the stairs two at a time, you catch up with Aragorn and see him shove Frodo into an empty room. You catch the door and shut it, keeping your hood over your head.

The Hobbit stands as you latch the door. "What do you want?" he asks apprehensively.

"A little more caution from you," Aragorn tells him rather than answering. "That is no small trinket you carry."

"I carry nothing."

"Indeed."

What is going on? Was that glint the item Gandalf told Aragorn the Hobbit would have? What was it, then? Clearly, it was small and metallic. Not a knife nor a dagger, perhaps a piece of jewelry? A ring, perhaps, or a bracelet.

Aragorn makes his way towards the window, extinguishing the candles. "I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely?" He turns back to the Hobbit and removes his hood. "That is a rare gift."

You stand beside the door, somewhat awkwardly, a hand on your dagger hilt. You remove your own hood, shaking your hair out of your face. The Hobbit, Frodo, looks confused, looking between the two of you.

"Who are you?" he asks. You note that he sounds much less frightened than you would have assumed. After all, he was shoved into a room by two Men. If it were you, you would be at least a bit scared. Though, perhaps Hobbits are different. You don't know much about them, in fact, this is your first time having a conversation with one.

"Are you frightened?" you ask and Frodo turns to you.

Slowly, he nods. "Yes."

Maybe you were wrong.

"Not nearly frightened enough," Aragorn says, keeping his voice low. "I know what hunts you." There's something hunting the Hobbit? Over what? You really should have asked more questions before you joined up with Aragorn. He always does this.

Aragorn glances at you and approaches the Hobbit. You take a step forward. Behind you, on the other side of the door, you hear footsteps, several of them, all heavy. Your nerves light on fire and at the same time Aragorn draws his sword, you pull out your dagger and turn on your heel towards the door. You'd rather it be your bow, but you couldn't pull it out in time.

The door bursts open and the other three Hobbits barge in, each holding a different blunt object. One has a chair, another holding just his fists. One has an entire candle stick.

"Let him go!" shouts the one with just his fists. "Or I'll have you both, Longshanks!"

Smiling just slightly, you sheath your dagger, heart still pumping. "You have a stout heart, but your fists will not save you."

Aragorn steps forward. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."

"Who is?" you ask quietly, more to yourself. You need answers.

"Who are you?" asks one of the Hobbits.

"I am Strider," Aragorn says. "This is Khaya. And you four are in much danger."

The three hobbits look to Frodo and he says, "We can trust them. They know of Gandalf."

"He is the one who sent us," you say, looking at Aragorn with furrowed brows. You two have gotten pretty good at communicating without words, with just looks, and he gets your meaning. You want him to explain what's going on and he nods.

"Come," he says, approaching the door. "You must be tired, and we cannot stay here. Follow me."

He catches your arm as he ushers the confused Hobbits from the door and says, "I'll explain, I swear. But, could you make this room look like the Hobbits are sleeping here? Their pursuers will look here and we must throw them off trail."

You normally do the weird requests Aragorn has without question, and now is no exception, as it seems so urgent. "Of course. Where will you go?"

"The inn across the way. Use Underhill to find us."

"Alright."

"And be careful," he says, seeming impatient. "And fast. Tonight, I will explain."

"You better," you poke him in the chest and then push him. "Go. I'll be fast."

And then he's gone with the four Hobbits and you're alone. Make this room look like Hobbits are occupying it? Easy. There are already two beds, you just need to stuff pillows under the sheets to fool whoever it is that's chasing them. Hopefully, they're stupid enough to fall for it.

Quickly, you get to work, shoving pillows under the sheets and punching and fluffing them to make them look more humanoid in shape. Of course, you hope you got the height right, having to estimate. Maybe you need to add another one just to be safe?

Not long later, you're satisfied with your work. Besides, you should probably leave, Aragorn seemed impatient. So, taking one last look at your work, you leave the room, latching it shut.

Making your way back down the stairs to the main bar, you see it's still buzzing with the news of Frodo's vanishing, literally, but people are beginning to stream out. Silently placing a small pouch of coins on the innkeeper's stand, you leave the warm, bright bar, and enter the dark, cold night. It's no longer raining, that you're grateful for.

You spot the other inn Aragorn was talking about and walk across the muddy street, keeping your head down. Now, you're weary of everyone.

This inn is similar to the one across the way, just much quieter and less busy. The innkeeper is an older woman and she hums at you when you enter.

"Good evening," you greet her with a smile. "I'm looking for an Underhill? My companions were a bit ahead of me in our travels."

The lady smiles at you. "Yes, of course. They checked in not too long ago. Up the stairs, last room on the right."

You bow to her. "Thank you. Safe night."

With that, you head up the stairs and knock on the door before entering. The Hobbits are already in the two beds, passed out, absolutely knocked out. They must have had quite a night.

"Oh, wonderful, they're passed out," you say sarcastically, locking the door behind you. Aragorn is sitting beside the fire, his feet kicked up casually, but his hand is resting on the hilt of his sword. You sit beside him and lean back, the fire warming your legs and making them prickly like they always are near a fire.

"How did it go?" asks your friend.

With your eyes shut, you answer. "Fine. Hope I did a convincing job. Whoever is chasing them best be stupid enough to fall for that trick, though. Stuffing pillows under the blankets." You scoff, mostly at yourself.

The room is silent, save for snores and the fire crackling. Aragorn is the first to speak. "I apologize for not informing you enough of why I asked you to join, of our being here. Everything just happened so fast..."

You open your eyes and shrug. "It's fine. We have time now, though. First of all, let me ask; what is that Hobbit carrying?" You've lowered your voice now, not wanting to wake them.

Aragorn sits up and leans toward you. "The wizard told me he carries a ring. A ring of great importance, an old ring."

"A ring?" you ask with a raised brow. "Okay. Sure. Why is this ring important? Is that what made him vanish into thin air?"

Aragorn nods and you know he's not joking.

Your mouth falls open, but you quickly regaining your composure. "Okay, okay. So, then, who's chasing him?"

Your friend takes a deep breath and looks around the room, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Do you recall the old tale of Sauron and the Rings?"

The fire flickers and a chill runs down your spine. "Yes, my mother told it to me and my siblings to scare us before we went to sleep. Sauron gave the races rings. I think it was three for the elves, seven for the dwarves, and nine for the men. But he also had one for himself."

"Yes. What happened to the men who received the rings?"

"They went mad with power, they eventually died. People said, though, that their souls were tied to the rings and to Sauron, so they didn't die. My mother said they turned into these shadow-men called Ringwraiths and they've been searching for Sauron's lost ring ever since."

As you say it, the pieces fall into piece. Now, everything clicks. With a gasp, you stand, staring at Aragorn. "The Hobbit has the one ring and the Ringwraiths are after him?"

Aragorn nods. "Yes."

"Shit," you say, running a hand through your hair, and sinking back in your seat.

Silently, you stare into the fire, the wood crackling and popping. A spark lands on your boot and you watch it fade and smoke. Your mind is whirling. You knew that Sauron was once real, that was a fact, there were record of the battles in the Second Age. But you thought the rest were stories, of the rings and the men and the Ringwraiths. But Aragorn would never lie to you.

Finally, you look at him and ask, "What now? What do we do? We can never lose them. If what my mother said is true, than they don't eat or sleep. All they'll do is look for the ring and kill anyone who gets in their way."

"Galdalf instructed me to take them to Rivendell," Aragorn answers, his thumb brushing over the hilt of his sword. "From there, we'll let Lord Elrond decide what to do. He'll surly know the right course of action."

He's right, you know that. Rivendell. The realm of the elves. The Last Homely House. Of the First, depending on where you were coming from. You've never been there, but you know Aragorn had been. Over the years and your adventures together, he told you a lot about himself, something he never did with others as far as you knew. He was always a secretive one. Of course, you're sure he didn't tell you everything, but he did explain how he was raised in Rivendell by Elrond himself after his parents died. He also mentioned how he fell in love with Lady Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter, her beauty untold. You've never met her, but now, you might.

With a nod and a deep breath, you fold your arms. "Aright. How far is Rivendell? A few days travel?"

Aragorn nods. "Yes. Now, rest up. I fear the Ringwraiths will be here soon, and we'll need to flee when they get here."

He doesn't have to ask you twice. Between the ale and the food, you've been tired for a long while. Leaning your head in your hand, you doze off, dreaming of your home village nestled deep in the woods far, far from Bree.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

for the spooky prompts !! if the mood sways you, perhaps grima with "fog rolling on an open field" ?? 👀💀💗

I was asked for spooky and uh...wrote some spooky-adjacent smut instead. You're welcome world.

But thank you so much for the ask! I am happy to have cranked something out that is a one shot and not 8k words long - a marvel upon marvels.

Title: Wondrous Works

Rating: explicit

Characters: Grima, Eomer, the dead

Pairing: Grima/Eomer

Summary: The second harvest is being brought in, the sun is beginning its slow decent into long winter nights, and the dead are out to remind the living what is owed. But mostly, Grima and Eomer shag.

Note: takes place post-Cycles of Song/the war and also Be Not Afraid of Plenty but no need have read that monstrosity of a trilogy+ to follow this. Just know it's post-war and Theoden is still alive.

AO3 Link

Halloween Prompt List

--

Night, late, and the air is collecting itself into mist which hugs the ground of freshly reaped fields. Second harvest is the singing harvest. It is also the one to let the dead into the world of the living until Spring Jol where they will dissipate again into their halls and barrows and mounds. The unknown lands that exist within and atop of and beneath the known.

Gríma drinks fresh mead that could have stayed in the barrel for another month and watches the fog gather. Are there shapes within it? Shadows moving, creatures venturing to eat what was left for them but only through the safety of night when all is hidden.

/

In Gondor, there had been a man Gríma got drunk with during one of the many feasting days after Aragorn’s coronation and Gríma had explained second harvest to him and the hallow dark days that end come middle-March. There are moor-walkers, shadow-walkers, death-eaters, keepers of hungry grass, disir, aglcecas—

You used that word before, the man said.

Which one?

Aglcecas. But you used it to describe the crown-prince.

Gríma tisked, We don’t have crown-princes. We have king-elects and yes, I did use it for Éomer. It means…fiend and monster, to be sure. It can also mean hero or saviour or great warrior. At least, that is how I’ve heard it translated. It alters, depends who you’re speaking on.

The man squinted through wine at Gríma. Sizing him up or trying to see if he’s lying or not doing anything of the sort and just looking at him drunkenly. How would you translate it?

Formidable one. Devils and ghouls and spirits of fire and air are formidable. So are men lauded as heroes, but for different reasons.

/

Things have changed since June 3019. A great many things. Gríma would still use aglceca to describe Éomer, though.

Second harvest is brought in by everyone. Kings to peasant. Men, women, children. Everyone is in the fields swinging scythes for barley and einkorn and rye and oats. Those that aren’t in the fields are in the threshing barns, separating out the chaff. It floats through air, catches in hair. You spend the evening pulling it out, flicking it into the fire. It’s hot work, thirsty work, especially when summer heat is lingering long and will likely continue well into autumn. Night, then, is a relief.

Gríma scratches at the back of his neck, bits of dust and flecks of chafing. Low cooking fires, kept going by those up date, dot the countryside. Larger bonfires remain burning if you train an eye towards Edoras, the villages and homesteads that pour out from its sturdy walls. Gríma, though, is well beyond foregate and town. It’ll be an hour or so to walk back and he isn’t in the mood.

The fog has thickened, made itself a sturdy fortress. It will remain until morning until the sun gets going enough to burn it off. That means, early hours of gathering water and feeding chickens will need to be careful hours. The dead may still lurk in the mist past daybreak. When they come, they come hungry. They taketaketake and do not look too carefully at what, or who, it is.

A crunch of grass, breaking straw, then Éomer’s voice: ‘There you are. I was wondering where you got to.’

‘Admiring the stars.’

Éomer looks up, nods, yes they’re nice tonight. The moon small enough so they can shine through. ‘Are you kipping out here or going back?’

Gríma finishes his mead with a shrug. ‘Probably stay out here. We’re back in the morning anyway to finish the job.’  

‘Is it safe?’ Éomer teased. ‘With spirits and sprites lurking about to make mischief.’

‘Worse than mischief, usually.’

‘I suppose you’ve your patron protector to hand, if you need him.’

Gríma makes no reply. It may be over a year since the war ended, and gods, he may be attempting to hash out his weregild and do amends and all that, but he remains loathe to give up all secrets. He calculates what’s told and untold. He thinks Éomer suspects something for the man brings up the entity more than is reasonable.

‘First night of second harvest is for mischief,’ Éomer points out. ‘Your nights are later.’

‘What do you mean my nights?’

‘Spirits and seidrcræft—that’s the dark nights.’

Gríma hums agreement. He tilts his head, ‘Are you saying these nights are yours?’

A flash of a grin, full impish glee. ‘Never. I’m the future king. I must learn to be serious and maintain decorum. Éothain says that I’ve improved drastically. Erkenbrand seems less inclined to sing my praises.’

‘He likes you well enough, my lord.’

‘He preferred my cousin.’

Gríma shrugs. There’s nothing to say to that. Éomer can shake swords at the ghost of Théodred all he wants. Wrest the crown from the hands of a shade whose memory haunts Éomer’s instep. Or does for the moment. Crowns and thrones have a specific sort of power to overwhelm and Gríma suspects that when Éomer assumes the mantel of kingship it will blind the world and force those memories to lay themselves to rest.  

At the moment, though, there is no kingship. A future thought of it, but no present reality. It remains on Théoden’s shoulders. So Éomer is just a marshal of the mark and nephew to the king and making a lewd face at Gríma, full of innuendo, before tugging him along towards a haystack and kissing him.

Gríma hisses, ‘Éomer—we’ll get caught. Don’t be daft.’ To which Éomer replies, ‘I’ve never shagged someone behind a haystack before.’ Gríma, tartly, ‘Overrated in my experience.’ Éomer grins his wicked grin, the one made of quick fire and works to reverse Gríma’s blood, causes his head to cartwheel.  

‘I always forget you were a farm-boy. You’re so well versed at appearing urbane and your accent never drops. Not to mention your general aversion to anything approaching physical labour.’

Before Gríma can reply Éomer’s mouth is against his again and Gríma is pressed into the hay which sticks into skin, more dust will slip beneath tunic and shift than what has already gathered from the day. He will itch and chafe away for it. He suspects it’ll be worth it.

‘Truly,’ Gríma whispers, ‘we should go elsewhere.’

‘Don’t want anyone seeing you on your knees?’

Gríma exhales through the thought of someone knowing Éomer is his and his utterly and his to all ends of the earth and gods he would burn the world down if Éomer asked him to—

‘Discretion, my lord,’ he says. ‘Better part of valor.’ Éomer leans in, breath warm against Gríma’s neck. He kisses beneath Gríma’s ear while tugging hard at Gríma’s hair and there is a second kiss, soft, painfully soft, the suggestion of teeth, tongue against skin. Gríma wants to meld into Éomer. Wants to fuse into him wholly, entirely, and never separate. Éomer’s other hand cups the side of his face and they’re against each other—work tunics and hose are light, thinner wools of autumn, and he can feel Éomer hard. Rubs his palm between the younger man’s legs causing Éomer to make a noise, a half-gasp, then they’re back to kissing, mouths hungry and wanting.

 A song strikes up, a workman’s lay. Three men, Gríma thinks, by the sound of it. Close to them. Too close. Gríma steps away, adjusting hair and belt and the skirts of his tunic as Éomer does the same. Thankfully the moon is small and so there’s plenty of dark to hide in. They can be like the disir, unseen until they wish to be seen. Éomer grabs his hand and nods out to the fields and between them, a stream where they both know there to be divets and grottos, little sacred places to be secret in.

The man in Gondor Gríma drank with had been surprised by how closely the Éothéod live with their dead. How their barrows and mounds are where couples plight troths and where families picnic on high holidays in summer. Chairs and benches are left open at meals to accommodate the unseen and silent. Berries left on bushes after the second week in September for the fallen brave to feast on. The dead are dead, they are in the halls of their ancestors, but they are also in the home of everyone person in Éomarc.

Éomer leads them down along the embankment and towards a tucked-away space created by an overhang of a tree and the steepness of the bank at this particular spot. There is some grass, and it’s not too muddy, so will do for the time. Gríma finds Éomer’s hands on his face again, kissing him, he’s walked backwards into the wall of the embankment. Rocks and tree roots press against back as Éomer leans fully into him. Gríma tugs at Éomer’s belt, loosening it then it drops to the ground. By the water, and in the deepening hours of night, the world begins to cool so Gríma pushes tunic skirts aside, thankfully short for they’re labouring clothes, and begins unlacing hose. No finesse, here. No taking time. No forbearance. Restraint means little as Éomer moans into Gríma’s mouth when Gríma wraps his hand around Éomer’s cock.

Gods, he gets hard knowing he can make Éomer moan like this. That he can make Éomer restless and reckless. That Éomer wants to fuck him face first into the earth, shove his cock inside Gríma hard enough, deep enough, often enough to make the thought of riding a horse painful. That Gríma could order Éomer to walk on him and he would. There is a delightful thread of power in this. Woven through, at times, with sheer mysticism at why.

Why him? Éomer should throw him in a river, all things considered. Do as Gríma’s brothers did a hundred times throughout childhood. It being little more than is deserved—and there are men and women who would tell Éomer he’d be well justified in it. But Gríma doesn’t wish to look too closely at the why and the wherefore. He doesn’t want to know what might lie beneath it. He doesn’t want clarity because shining light upon the why might make Éomer leave and that would be worse than dying.

Currently, Éomer is whispering that he wants Gríma’s mouth on his prick. He wants Gríma sucking on him. He wants to see him gag for it. He wants to watch Gríma swallow. He wants to know his semen is inside of him. All the while Gríma is gasping, yesyesyesgodsyesohgodsplease and wanting to rub himself up Éomer’s thigh, wants to ride Éomer, climb him like a tree, anything, but Éomer is pulling Gríma’s hand off his cock, he’s stilling Gríma’s hips which had been moving against Éomer.

‘Wait,’ Éomer hisses against Gríma’s ear. ‘You’re a patient man, you can wait.’

He is not a patient man, Gríma wants to say. Why does Éomer think he ran so fast to Saruman when there was the threat of darkness looming (greed and power aside)? No hope and no patience to wait for hope. A desperate need to be doing something, anything, to have some control and moving fastfastfast to make it happen. So fast he dove off a cliff. Granted, this is hindsight. At the time he thought he had deliberated on it, thought it through to exactitude. Anyway.

Éomer pushes Gríma down to his knees, thankfully not making a joke about future crowns and thrones, which he has done in the past and Gríma replied, Nothing is less arousing than your sense of humour.

Fingers are in Gríma’s hair as he wraps a hand around the base of Éomer’s cock before taking it in his mouth. Everything zeros in to this moment, the noises Éomer is making interspersed with whispers of ohgods yes and fuck I like you like this, also the taste of Éomer’s prick, the way it feels in his mouth, against his tongue, the smell of arousal, sweat from the day, also damp earth, autumnal tree litter going to molder beneath itself.

Gríma wants to touch himself. Wants to pull himself off while Éomer spends down his throat. But he keeps his free hand on Éomer’s hip, fingers digging in as Éomer rocks forward slightly. Glancing up, he meets Éomer’s gaze, a hungry, fearsome, aggressive look. All fire. Not dissimilar to how he looks in battle when blood is up and he’s just killed someone. Gríma thinks Éomer could kill him right now and he’d be happy. He closes his eyes again, feels Éomer’s hand tighten in his hair, tugging on it and pushing him down so Gríma’s mouth is against the hand working the base of Éomer’s cock. He works on breathing. On not gagging. Though he thinks Éomer would like it, knows Éomer would like it, but he doesn’t want to give him everything. Éomer is used to having things given to him. Being a nobleman does that. Gríma likes to make him work, from time to time.

When Éomer comes, it’s with a gasp that deepens into a moan, and he tugs at Gríma’s hair for something to do with his hands and Gríma swallows what he can before pulling away, taking deep breaths and working his jaw. Suddenly Éomer is before him, kissing him soundly and pushing him backwards so he’s sitting. Gríma wants Éomer on top of him, pulls him close as Éomer moves clothes out of the way, undoing enough to have his hand around Gríma’s cock. He’s tight, warm, Gríma loves the feel of it. The callouses, the way Éomer strokes him, the way he whispers, all heatedly, tell me what you want, show me how you like it. Gríma buries his face against Éomer’s neck, breath hitching. Éomer says, ‘I like watching you come, I like watching you touch yourself while I touch you’ and wants him lying back, half propped against the wall, but Gríma won’t move, prefers his arms around Éomer’s shoulders, his face hidden. Éomer’s hand tightens, Gríma moans, whispering, ‘Oh gods’ into Éomer’s hair and skin and oh stars help him he wants to meld bodily into Éomer’s hair and skin and bone.

When he spills, it is quiet. Hardly noticeable. Éomer is slow, entirely pleased with himself as they unweave from one another. A damp hand holds Gríma’s face still. Gríma wants to look anywhere else but Éomer is directly before him and close. He looks at Gríma, through Gríma, a cutlass stare then, a sudden smile as Éomer leans in and kisses him.  

Around them, fog gathers. Whispers and hums of the dead and the creatures of rivers at night, of barrows and the unknown, gather. Gríma rummages through the bag on his belt and pulls out a candle. He lights it. Sets it between them and the river. Feels Éomer settle near him with a comment that he should return to his lodgings soon. Lest he be missed. But there’s no rush. They can stay here, like this, for a little while and pretend that when the sun rises everything will be different. No crowns. No past riddled with poor decisions. Somehow, during the night, a mist will billow in, blanket the world, consume everyone, and spit them out wholly as they ought to be.

‘Or not,’ Éomer continues. ‘I suppose we are as we ought to be, right now. Because of what we’ve been and done.’

‘That is how it works,’ Gríma replies. ‘The part of our soul that is us is like wax. It imprints with what has happened. We are made of what we have seen and done and who we have met and what we have heard.’

‘Ah,’ Éomer grins. ‘You are coming around to my way of thinking at last. If the part of your soul that is you is wax, then you can reshape it. Or portions of it. Even though you think you were born set in stone.’

Gríma sniffs. The candle flickers. Gutters as a breeze brushes by. Or a spirit. Somewhere in a distant field, a guttural howl but not of any wolf or hound. Éomer sighs, gets up and dusts his clothes down. He holds his hand out for Gríma. Gríma looks at it, hesitates a second, before accepting it. Never having had much himself, he wonders how much kindness a person can accept before it becomes a burden on their souls. Like alcohol, he assumes some can bear more than others.

But look at this night—the stars and the smell of the harvest and there’s Éomer humming some dirty soldier’s song, waiting for Gríma to snuff out the candle and come along with him back to the warmth of a hearth fire and mulled wine. The smell of myrtle and sagebrush and sweetgrass.

Around them, there is mist and fog and the dead who are made of memories. As they walk back, slow and with patience, Gríma supposes he will find out how much his own souls can bear before like a shelf with too much on it, the weight of the goodness of world breaks them.

[band--psycho]

Heartbeat-Aragorn x Reader

Prompt 25 for my amazing friend @little-diable​ ~You’re shaking // With Aragorn (Prompt in bold) 

Prompt List Requests / 1.3k Writing Celebration Masterlist / The Hobbit/LOTR Masterlist

Aragorn couldn’t sleep, even though he knew that they were safe in the magical forest of the Elves, the thoughts wouldn’t stop swarming around in his head. He was responsible for the company now...especially Frodo. He knew how he must be feeling, all of this was very different from the Shire and any story his Uncle Bilbo had told him. He’d heard parts of it, mostly from Gandalf but some parts from Legolas and Gimli of course had his own stories that his father had told him. Gandalf often told Aragorn how alike Frodo and Bilbo were; especially when it came to adventures. But this was exactly a joyous adventure, it was a mission. A mission with one goal, to save the world. That would be a grueling task with an enormous amount of pressure for anyone, let alone a Hobbit. But Frodo was managing well, up until now. Gandalf was important to him, he was like family. So of course watching him die would affect him. His thoughts soon drifted to Y/n/n. She was his rock, the love of his life, not that she knew it of course. When he glanced over at her, he could see her tossing and turning under her blanket. His eyes grew wide as he realised she was having a nightmare. She’d had them before, normally when she was worried or stressed about things...he wasn’t even meant to know she had them. The only reason he knew was because he’d heard Gandalf comforting her about it whilst they were in Rivendell. When he asked Gandalf about it he told him not to mention it to anyone, especially not Y/n/n. She didn’t want people knowing. He felt his heart break as he looked at her, hearing her frantic breaths as she moved restlessly under the covers. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to comfort her, to protect her. But before he could go over and comfort her, she shot upright. Eyes wide, breathing erratic and beads of sweat on her forehead, completely oblivious to the world around her. But of course Aragorn had seen it all. In all the time he’d known her, this was the first time she seemed vulnerable.

“Are you okay?”  He asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he made his way closer to her.

Running a hand through her slightly damp hair, she bluntly replied with “I’m fine,” quickly trying to act like nothing had happened, desperately trying to brush off the worry that was in Aragorn’s eyes.

“You’re shaking,” Aragorn pointed out, kneeling down next to her. He knew what he was doing was risky...she could end up hating him if he continued to push her..but he couldn’t help her if he didn’t know what was going on. He just wanted to help. To protect her from whatever terrifying thoughts were filling her dreams. 

“Shivering,” she corrected him, wiping away the beads of sweat from her forehead, shuffling slightly under the blanket, attempting to prove that it was just a shiver. But she wasn’t just trying to prove it to Aragorn, she was trying to prove it to herself as well. She hated the fact that she had nightmares, she saw it as a huge flaw. But after all the horrors she’d seen in her life, it wasn’t really much of a surprise. But she hadn’t had as many recently, not since Gandalf noticed and asked her about them. At first she was like she was now with Aragorn, blunt, not wanting to admit it, but eventually he got her to admit it. He became like a father to her. Which is why the nightmare tonight felt even more terrifying….because now Gandalf was dead, she’d lost so many people in her life...so many people that she loved and now she’d lost him as well. One of the very few people she trusted enough to explain her nightmares to, the only person in this company that knew the truth about her past….who helped her deal with her nightmares, was gone. And now she was alone. Y/n had  tried so hard to not sleep recently, and if she did it was just quick naps here and there, not allowing her mind to delve too deep into her memories..or her thoughts of the future, but tonight she couldn’t fight it any longer. And now Aragorn had seen her. He’d seen her having the nightmare. She’d had a crush on Aragorn since she first laid eyes on him. To her, he was perfect...and that’s what made the entire situation worse for Y/n. He was one of the last people she wanted to see her like this...to see her so weak..

“Y/n…” Aragorn whispered, knocking her out of her thoughts. 

“What Aragorn?” Y/n snapped in frustration, her heart beating  faster as she tried (and failed) to calm herself down from the fragments of the nightmare that still lingered in her mind. Before she could even really process what was going on, Aragorn's hands were wrapped around hers, lifting her hands up to his chest, resting just above his heart. 

“Match the rhythm of my heartbeat,” he prompted softly, his voice, his hand moving slightly, to cover hers. He didn’t know what else to do. Whenever he talked to Gandalf about it he said that they would just talk about it, what happened in her nightmare and then that was it. But Aragorn knew that Y/n/n wasn’t going to talk to him about them..so this was the only thing he hoped would help to calm her breathing down. Y/n was reluctant at first, not really knowing what to think but eventually gave in, attempting to match his steady heart beat. Y/ns eyes moved to where her hand was, she could feel Aragorn's gaze on her but she was couldn’t meet it; afraid that she wouldn’t be able to keep her feelings a secret from him 

A few moments of silence passed as Y/n continued to match her breaths to Aragorn's steady beating heart. Soon her breathing was back to normal, and the reality of the entire situation sunk in, a small blush appeared on her cheeks as she slowly went to move her hand from his. Aragorn couldn’t help but miss the touch of her hand as soon as it left, but was somewhat grateful, he knew his heart was no longer beating at a steady rhythm; as he looked at her with, the warm blush spreading across her cheeks he couldn't help but think about how much he liked her. 

“Umm….thank you…” Y/n said awkwardly, her eyes locking onto the ground, anxiously fumbling with her hands, not knowing what else to do. 

“Anytime,” Aragorn whispered, a small yet reassuring smile coming across his face. He stayed knelt there for a few moments, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell her how he truly felt, but now wasn’t the right time, nor was it the right time to start asking her questions about the nightmare, it was only going to make her stressed. 

“Goodnight, Y/n,” He whispered once he knew she was okay, he went back to where he was originally sitting. 

“Goodnight,” Y/n said quietly, rolling over so she was facing away from him, her blanket wrapped tightly around her as she thought about what just happened. She wished she could’ve stayed in that moment forever, his hand on hers, holding it close to his chest. Little did she know that he felt exactly the same way. For the rest of the night, the pair thought about that moment and how they felt about each other. Both of them wanting nothing more than to say how they really felt, but both of them being too scared to do so.

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[sylvanfreckles]

Departing Shadows

You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? Here it is, another rescue from my doomed fanfiction.net account.

Summary: Legolas arrives to winter in Imladris after an ill-fated patrol in Mirkwood. But when the prince's refusal to accept the truth of what happened affects his healing, Aragorn is determined to break through the shadows that threaten his friend's spirit. No slash. Second-place winner of the December 2005 Teitho contest.

This is one of the angstiest things I've ever written, so...it'll be right up someone's alley, I'm sure. Please check the warnings if you're concerned. It was apparently partly inspired by The Pretenders' "I'll Stand By You".

And like I always say. I may cringe, but I will never regret! On to the fic!

(I should warn you...I made up the horse's name just so Aragorn could call him Smokey. He first appeared in another fic that I'll post one of these days. His name might look decently elvish but it's total gibberish.)

...

"Legolas!"

Aragorn refused to let the knee-deep snowdrifts impede him as he surged forward to greet his friend. The prince had come to Imladris for the winter, arriving, it seemed, just ahead of the heavy snows.

"Hello, Estel," the blonde elf said wearily, dismounting from his horse and nodding to the groom that had come to take care of the animal.

"I see Smokey is well," Aragorn commented, referring to an old joke they had between them about the horse's name.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Ranger, his name is Simoliké."

Aragorn laughed, throwing an arm around his friend and pretending not to notice the elf's flinch. "It is wonderful to see you again, Legolas."

The elf sighed, relaxing just slightly as the man guided him down the cleared walkway up to the house. "Are your brothers home?" he asked with a hint of hesitation.

"They're out until this evening," Aragorn explained, biting back a grin as he remembered the twins' protests at being sent away the day the prince was due to arrive. "Ada wanted them to help some of the other homes prepare for winter."

He noticed Legolas seemed relieved to hear this, and wondered at the elf's reaction. Then again, he thought, knowing the circumstances behind the prince's journey perhaps it was not entirely unexpected that he would be hesitant to face the rather exuberant greeting that Elladan and Elrohir would cook up.

"How are you, Legolas?" Aragorn asked as they entered the house, turning his friend to face him.

Legolas looked down, and for the first time Aragorn noticed the dark shadows under the elf's eyes, the deep pallor of his skin, and the almost haunted look in his eyes. "I am fine," the prince said softly.

Rather than outright scoff the elf's answer, as he was used to doing, Aragorn simply nodded. "I believe my father asked to speak with you when you arrived," he said. "He's in his study...just leave your bags, someone will take them up later."

Aragorn walked the elf to his father's study, and was surprised when Lord Elrond asked him to remain. He sat easily in a chair, noting with some concern that Legolas was perched as though about to bolt.

"Legolas," Elrond greeted, setting aside the scroll he had been studying. "How is your father?"

"He is well, Lord Elrond," the prince replied, fidgeting a little.

"Are you aware that he sent me a letter to tell the reasons behind your arrival?"

Legolas flinched. "I had guessed as much."

"Can you tell me what it says?"

The younger elf frantically shook his head, his eyes wide. Aragorn looked on in concern, and only a restraining glance from his father kept him from jumping to his friend's side.

"Then shall I tell you?" Elrond asked, not even waiting for a response. "In his letter he mentioned that your patrol suffered a devastating attack by a party of orcs. All but three of the elves under your command were killed in battle, and those of you who survived were taken captive. The orcs recognized you as captain of that patrol and slowly tortured the other three survivors to death in an attempt to get information out of you. Is this correct?"

Aragorn's eyes widened, and he glanced at his friend. Legolas was trembling, his gaze fixed on Elrond as though afraid the older elf would attack him.

"Legolas, you cannot hide from what happened," Elrond said kindly. "Yes, six of your people are dead...six good elves that should not have suffered so. But you must not blame yourself, Legolas. You must face what happened and—"

But whatever else Lord Elrond was going to say was forever lost as Legolas chose that moment to bolt from his chair and flee the study. Aragorn was after him in a heartbeat, not so much to bring him back to Elrond as out of honest concern for his friend.

Luckily, in his haste Legolas was less stealthy than usual and Aragorn could easily follow him. He found the elf just outside the door, bent over on his knees with his arms around his stomach. Aragorn knelt beside his friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling the prince's hair back as Legolas was violently sick.

"I can't, Estel," Legolas whispered, his voice shaking. "He asks me...I can't."

"What happened?" Aragorn asked. "You don't have to tell me if you don't wish to," he added as Legolas tensed. "I want to help you...tell me what I can do."

"I..." Legolas shivered. "I can't, not yet."

"All right," Aragorn nodded. "What do you wish to do, then?"

Legolas sighed and sat up just enough to lean against Aragorn. "I want to forget than any of this ever happened."

"I know," the human said soothingly. "But my brothers will be returning soon," he added, squinting at the setting sun. "Do you want me to tell them you've retired early?"

"No," the elf said, standing shakily to his feet. "I do not wish them to suspect something is wrong."

Ai, anyone who looks you in the eye would know that you are not well, Aragorn thought. "Perhaps you would like to bathe and rest before dinner, then?" he asked, ever mindful of all the lessons he'd received on being a gracious host.

Legolas smiled, and in that smile Aragorn finally saw a glimmer of the elf who was his best friend. "You would not mock me for my 'obsessive bathing'?" he asked.

"Not today," Aragorn said with a laugh. "I believe you know the way...or would you prefer me to escort you so you don't get lost?"

"No, Aragorn," Legolas sighed. "But if you could apologize to Lord Elrond for my behavior..."

"Of course," the human nodded. "I'll speak with him immediately," and get him to tell me just what is going on, he added mentally. "See you at dinner, then," he called before making his way back to his father's study.

"Come in, Estel," Elrond called, not even bothering to look up.

"Ada, what is going on?" Aragorn asked, not even bothering to pass on his friend's apology as he knew Elrond would not hold Legolas' behavior as offensive in any way.

Elrond sighed and motioned for Aragorn to close the door. "In his letter Thranduil told me that Legolas has refused to speak of anything that happened during his captivity."

"He said he doesn't want to talk about it," Aragorn said.

"He is burdened because he feels responsible for six deaths that were beyond his control...six elves who would have gladly given their lives to keep the secrets of Mirkwood safe."

"Did the orcs know he was a prince?"

"No, they thought he was only a captain. Had they known, however, they might have tried to use him as leverage. In that case the results may have been different," Elrond sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"Different?"

Elrond met the human's gaze, a depth of sorrow in his eyes that Aragorn had not expected. "When the deaths of his comrades failed to get him to speak, the orcs resorted to torturing Legolas. He spent three days in their grasp, until another patrol found and rescued him."

Aragorn sat back in shock. "He was tortured..." he repeated softly. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Only time will tell. I will say this, though," Elrond held up one finger. "If he does not come to terms with what happened he will break. His spirit is already shadowed, and I fear what will happen if he does not begin to release this soon." The elf-lord sighed. "I believe he is on the brink of fading."

The young man felt his resolve harden. "I will not let that happen," he said fiercely.

Elrond's gaze saddened further. "I hope so, ion-nin."

Aragorn turned to leave, but hesitated and looked back to his father. "You were wrong," he said softly. "You should not have confronted him. He is not ready."

The elf raised one eyebrow, his gaze tightening slightly. "And how do you know this?"

"He told me," the man said simply. "He will talk to us when he's ready...not before. For now, the best we can do is simply listen and wait for him to tell us. I dare say there have been enough healers trying to draw him out."

Elrond nodded to acknowledge Aragorn's argument, though the human could tell he hadn't convinced his father of anything. Sighing, he left the study and jogged down the hall to the one elf he knew he needed to see: Legolas.

Legolas was not surprised in the least when he came out of the bathing chamber to find Aragorn perched on his bed. He had almost expected the human to come barging in while he was still bathing, as though thinking that catching the prince unawares would make him reveal what he had gone through.

He shook his head, dispelling that thought. Aragorn would never do that to him. "Are you waiting for something, Human?" he asked, forcing a playful tone to his voice.

"Just wanted to see if you needed anything else."

Legolas sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

Aragorn's brow furrowed in concern. "I wasn't going to ask."

The elf paused, trying to keep his hand steady as he reached for his hairbrush. "Why not?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't want to rush you," the man said simply. "I want you to talk to me when you're ready."

Legolas caught himself blinking back tears, his emotions stretched too far at this point for any sort of restraint to last. "What if I'm never ready?" he said in a whisper.

"You will be," Aragorn said confidently. "Take some time...take a few days to rest, if you like. You're safe here," the man added, resting his chin in his hand and studying the prince as he brushed his hair.

The elf sighed, setting the hairbrush aside and lying down on the bed. "I know," he murmured, fighting the bone-chilling exhaustion that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"My father's healers," he said after a few moments, "spent every day trying to convince me to talk about what happened...what I saw, what I went through. Every time I saw them I just started retreating further and further within. It was out of desperation that my father sent me here. He hoped your father could do something."

Aragorn grunted an acknowledgement. "He wants to help," the man said quietly. "And he could probably understand what you're feeling...but I know what you mean."

Legolas turned a curious eye on his friend, waiting for the human to continue.

"In my first months out with the rangers," the man explained, "we came across a pack of wolves. They were bent on destroying us, and managed to kill two of the younger rangers before we killed them. One of those men was my friend," Aragorn added softly. "The first human friend I'd ever made. We were near Imladris, so they brought the wounded here. I knew my brothers and my father had lost friends before...but having so many try to help me recover from my friend's death was just overwhelming and I shut them out. It wasn't until one of the other rangers simply told me that he would just listen if I ever needed to talk that I found myself willing to share anything."

He turned a saddened gaze toward the prince. "If you need to talk, Legolas, I will listen. And whatever you share, I will keep in secret as long as you wish. If you need me, I will stand by you through whatever you face."

Legolas sighed and nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, the world darkening as he drifted off to sleep.

Elladan and Elrohir cornered Legolas later that night in the Hall of Fire, demanding an account from their friend of his journey and the latest news from Mirkwood. Aragorn was relieved to see Legolas at ease, laughing and joking, but disheartened when he saw through the facade to the crumbling spirit within the prince.

He could see that the elf was exhausted, though he wondered if that was more due to the journey here or to the terrible weight he carried. "All right, enough," Aragorn declared, smoothly stepping in and maneuvering his friend away from his brothers. "You can speak with Legolas in the morning, the hour is growing late and I wish to have a word with my friend before he retires for the night."

Ignoring the protests from the twins—half-hearted and jovial though they were—Aragorn steered Legolas to a vacant balcony.

They stood in silence for a while, looking out as a light snow fell throughout the valley. "Everything is so peaceful here," Legolas finally said, sighing and leaning heavily against the railing. "Not like home...there is no shadow over Imladris."

Aragorn grunted softly in agreement. "You know, tomorrow the first thing my brothers will do is drag me out of bed and bury me in the snow. They've done it during the first snow every year, but I wasn't here for the first snow so they'll probably do it with this one. They used to try convince me it would teach me to walk atop it as elves do...but I've long since learned that was a lie."

Legolas chuckled. "And I suppose you'll wish me to come to your aid?"

"Of course," Aragorn grinned. "What else are friends for?" he added, and lighthearted though his tone was he hoped Legolas would understand the hidden message.

The blonde elf sobered immediately. "I know," he said quietly. "I have been struggling all day...here I have a friend who has promised to stand beside me no matter what I face, yet when it comes to facing myself I have not the courage to ask."

Aragorn's heart went out to the elf. "You don't ever need to ask, Legolas," he replied gently. "I will always stand with you."

"Always?" the elf asked, turning to Aragorn so the human could see the tears glistening in the elf's eyes. "I am afraid, Aragorn. Afraid to face what is inside of me...afraid that the memories will be too much...but most of all I am afraid that if everyone sees this they will know I am a coward."

The elf turned away, covering his face with one hand. Aragorn immediately pulled his friend into an embrace, letting the elf sob into his shoulder. "You are not a coward," he said firmly. "Fear is just another battle, Legolas. You must face it, and you can defeat it."

When his friend had calmed down enough to release his death-grip on Aragorn's tunic, the human gently steered the elf through a set of fairly empty corridors to his chamber.

"Now sleep," he ordered, taking a look around the guestroom in which Legolas was staying. Sudden inspiration struck, and he turned to his friend's pack and began digging through it.

"What are you doing?" Legolas asked.

"It is far too cold in here," the man complained. "Even for an elf...you'll catch your death of cold if you stay in here tonight," he stood up triumphantly, a set of Legolas' sleeping clothes in his hand. "Come with me," he ordered, grabbing the elf by the arm.

Ignoring his friend's protests, he ushered Legolas down to his own chamber where a fire was already roaring happily in the fireplace. "This is much better, isn't it?" Aragorn asked, swiftly changing into his own sleeping clothes.

Legolas raised one eyebrow. "My room is not cold, Aragorn."

"Well...maybe not to you but I'll rest much better knowing that you're not sleeping in a room so frigid it could freeze a dragon," Aragorn retorted, climbing into his bed. It was large enough for three or four people, so he knew the elf couldn't protest because of lack of room.

The elf shook his head in amusement, and turned his back to change. Aragorn's stomach somersaulted when he caught sight of a few still-unhealed wounds on the elf's back—marks left from a whip and burns the size of his thumb. Whatever shadow had fallen on Legolas' spirit had left his friend unable to fully heal.

Legolas finished changing and slid into the other side of the bed. "Happy now, Human?" he asked.

"Of course," Aragorn laughed. He blew out the lamp on the bedside table, and waited until Legolas' breathing evened out to slip into sleep.

And when the nightmares struck, as he had known they would, he was right there.

Lord Elrond paused outside of Legolas' room—the prince was a frequent enough guest that one of the rooms was considered his—and knocked softly. Not hearing an answer he quietly opened the door and peeked in, a bit surprised to see that the room was vacant.

Then again, he mused, he shouldn't have been surprised at all.

Chuckling inwardly he stealthily opened the door to his youngest son's room just enough so slip in, and couldn't hold back a smile.

They were still sleeping, Aragorn with his arms wrapped around Legolas and the elf's head tucked under his chin, as though his mere presence could beat back the shadow that hung about the archer's spirit.

It was the nature of their friendship—of the friendship of two friends closer than brothers—for each to protect the other.

This time, Aragorn was the protector...against whatever demons preyed on his friend's spirit.

Elrond held back a sigh as he approached the bed, not wanting to wake either prince or ranger. He knew what he had said in his study had sounded unfeeling and harsh, but he had been hoping to force Legolas to face what had happened. He could now fully see the distress his words had caused the younger elf, and standing at the end of the bed he could make out distinct tear-trails left on the prince's face from whatever horrors he'd endured in his dreams.

And his eyes were closed, as though that would keep the images away.

Elves could usually control their dreams, but Elrond knew that Legolas had been repressing memories of his captivity and those memories would seek to break through, mostly in the form of nightmares.

But perhaps...perhaps his son could succeed where all of healers of Mirkwood and Legolas' own family had failed. The love of a brother, extended without hesitation or condition, might be just what was needed to break through the shadow.

As though knowing he was being thought of, Aragorn opened one eye and regarded his father with a raised eyebrow. Elrond pressed a finger to his lips to indicate silence, and slowly retreated, pausing just long enough to throw a smile over his shoulder at his son and the sleeping prince.

He would not speak about these things to Legolas again, he decided, unless the prince approached him. Perhaps Aragorn was right, and the best cure would be to listen and wait until Legolas was ready to speak.

Aragorn had dozed off when his father left, but woke suddenly with a yelp when a pair of hands seized his feet and dragged him off the bed.

"EL!" he shouted, not knowing which twin it was. Laughing gray eyes peeked into his as the less-responsible twin perched on the bed.

"It snowed last night, Estel," the twin—Elladan—said cheerfully.

"It is far from the first snow," the human grumped, trying to wrestle his feet away from Elrohir.

"Ah, but it is such fresh snow," Elrohir exclaimed, chuckling and pulling Aragorn a few more feet when the ranger tried to sit up and pry his hands away.

"Couldn't the snow wait a few hours?" a fourth voice asked groggily as the prince sat up, awakened from his exhausted sleep by the commotion.

"Legolas! Help me!" Aragorn called, ignoring the surprised glances of the twins who had evidently not seen Legolas when they entered the room.

"Aye, help him!" Elladan shouted, jumping to his feet and grabbing Legolas by the wrist. He dragged the prince off the bed, ignoring the protests and finally managing to dump the blonde elf, along with several blankets and a few pillows, onto the floor.

"What do you say, 'Dan?"

"I say the smelly human needs a bath!" Elladan exclaimed. "Shall we go?" he added, easily flinging Legolas over one shoulder and opening the door.

The prince was helpless with laughter in spite of his protests by this time, as every time he tried to wriggle away Elladan managed to poke him in a ticklish spot.

Elrohir followed, still dragging Aragorn by the ankles. The ranger began protesting that they would have to go downstairs—surely Elrohir would let him walk that much?

But he had forgotten his brother's tenacity. Elrohir did let go of Aragorn's ankles, but only to grab him around the chest and haul him down the stairs backwards, leaving his feet to drag behind.

Elladan was waiting impatiently by the door when Elrohir finally arrived with his struggling captive. Together they took their prisoners outside, Elladan depositing the prince gracefully in a clear spot in the yard and running to aid Elrohir.

Aragorn shouted in protest, but was no match for the twin elves as they managed to bring him to the ground, burying him in the snow and wrestling with him until he was completely soaked, shivering in his sleeping clothes.

"A-ada will b-be angry with y-you if I c-catch cold," Aragorn muttered through chattering teeth, hugging his arms tightly to his chest to preserve some warmth. Why did he let them to do this to him every year?

"Ah, but it is winter and you have nowhere better to be," Elladan said with a grand shrug. "What better place than the healers' wing?"

Legolas laughed at this, still sitting aside atop a patch of unbroken snow.

"The prince is amused," Elrohir commented.

"Yes...perhaps before he judges this as amusing he should experience it for himself," Elladan suggested with a wicked grin and in a flash the two had jumped to their feet and ran for the prince.

To Aragorn's alarm, the prince reacted with wide, fearful eyes and turned to flee.

The twins laughed as they chased him down, gleefully giving him the same treatment they'd given their brother. But Aragorn heard Legolas' protests grow more frantic and fearful, until he was in a high state of terror and begging the twins to stop.

Ignoring his own discomfort, Aragorn plunged into the unbroken snow and drove his way forward to the three elves, angered when his brothers treated the younger elf's fear as part of the game.

"Get off him!" Aragorn shouted, somehow pushing both Elladan and Elrohir away. Legolas lay curled up in the snow, his arms over his head and his breath coming in terrified pants. "Legolas?" he asked softly, placing a hand on the trembling shoulder.

The prince recognized Aragorn's voice and launched himself up into his friend's arms, burying his face in the man's sodden tunic to muffle his sobs of fear. Aragorn was shocked to see a small amount of blood on the snow, and more on the back of the elf's tunic.

With a warning glance at his brothers to stay back, Aragorn wordlessly gathered up the archer in his arms and trudged back into the house, heading straight for the healers' wing.

The moment his son entered the room carrying the trembling elf, Elrond knew the twins' yearly prank had gone tragically wrong. He sighed to himself, pulling back the blankets on one of the beds and nodding for Aragorn to set the prince down. He would have to explain this to his sons later...it wouldn't be fair to them to leave them wondering.

Then, as Aragorn showed him the reopened wounds on the archer's back, his concern grew.

"Ada, he was terrified," Aragorn confessed in a low voice, hoping they were far enough away that the blonde elf couldn't hear them. "He was pleading for them to stop, but they were just joking."

"I should have told them," Elrond sighed.

Aragorn agreed with his own sigh, bringing a few rolls of bandages over to bind his friend's wounds. Elrond dispensed a servant to bring down dry clothes for his son and the prince, seeing that both were cold and wet.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked, kneeling beside the bed to look his friend in the eye. Elrond glanced over and was startled to see the prince pale-faced, tears streaking out of tightly-closed eyes. "It's all right," the human said soothingly, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "It's over...they're gone."

The servant returned with the clothes, and Elrond politely turned away, pretending to be hunting for something on the herb table, as Aragorn helped his friend change before changing himself.

"A-aragorn?" the prince whispered.

"Yes?" the man was kneeling again in an instant, grasping the white-fingered hand that extended toward him.

"Will you stay?"

Aragorn smiled tenderly. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Several hours later, after hearing the story from their father and shoveling all the paths from the house to the various outbuildings, Elladan and Elrohir peeked into the healing room to see how the prince was faring.

Legolas was sleeping again, Aragorn in a chair at his side with a book in hand. He glanced up at his brothers and offered them an apologetic glance.

"We came to apologize," Elrohir whispered.

Aragorn shook his head. "You didn't know," he murmured.

"Still...when he asked us to stop..." Elladan's voice trailed off when he thought of how he and his twin had unintentionally hurt their friend. "Is he all right?"

"He will be," Aragorn nodded. "He finally told me what happened," he added with a sigh. "He slept a bit just after you...after we came in, but woke up after another nightmare. This time, though, he told me what it was about."

Elladan raised one eyebrow, unconsciously imitating his father. "Another nightmare?"

Aragorn nodded sadly. "He had four last night. Ada said it was repressed memories trying to break through, and now that he finally told me what happened it seems he's sleeping peacefully."

The twins agreed, both noticing that the prince seemed more at peace than he had been since his arrival. "I hope can forgive us," Elrohir murmured.

"He already has," Aragorn replied gently. "He knows you didn't mean to cause him pain."

Elladan nodded, eyes suspiciously damp-looking. "Well, I guess we'd better get changed if we want to be warm and dry for dinner," he commented wryly. "Ada has had us clearing the paths for the past few hours as punishment for reckless behavior."

Aragorn couldn't keep a broad grin from spreading across his face. "Doesn't he do that every year?"

"Aye," Elrohir shrugged. "I'm beginning to think it's less punishment for throwing you in the snow and more because he knows we'll actually do it."

"You do deserve it," Aragorn interjected laughingly.

Elladan just snickered. "It's worth it every year to see your face, though," he teased. "Come on, 'Ro, unlike some humans we don't enjoy playing in the snow," he added, leading the way out of the healers' wing.

Neither he nor his twin caught the devious smile spreading across their brother's face.

Clean, dry, and impeccably dressed, Elladan and Elrohir sat at the table in the dining hall merrily chatting with the other elves in the hall. Their father sat at the head, as usual, either conversing with the elves to either side of him or just watching out over the hall.

Legolas and Aragorn were not in their places, but given the prince's frail condition of late the twins expected them to be taking dinner in the healers' wing.

And so neither one suspected anything until two rather large buckets filled with snow were upended over their heads, the buckets left to sit like oversized hats.

Pushing the bucket off his head and shaking the snow out of his eyes in fury, Elrohir glared about the room to see who had done such a thing. His eyes lighted on Aragorn and Legolas, sitting across the table with suspiciously-innocent faces.

"Why, Legolas," Aragorn said in mock amazement. "I do believe it is snowing indoors."

Legolas nodded, looking up at the ceiling as though it were a wonder to behold and valiantly holding in his laughter.

His heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. Aragorn had listened, offered what strength he could, and simply stood with Legolas as he faced the fear in his soul.

And beyond that fear was the peace he had thought he lost.

Finally, the shadows were departing.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Legolas x elven reader

Requested by @sokkasdarling​ -took me a lil while to think of smth but can i request a legolas fic pls🥺🥺 so maybe reader rly likes him and its super obvious to aragorn but not to leg man and then when he finds out its all soft and stuff🥺🥺🥺🥺 -

I hope you like this and it’s close to what you wanted, it was fun to write ngl, leggy is such an oblivious softie I love.

You had been traveling along with the Fellowship since your departure from Rivendell not even four weeks ago. But even so, time had not seemed so very long for you anyways. This whole adventure began when Gandalf sent word to your kingdom calling for your aid in an important mission of sorts, as per usual the old wizard was very vague in his brief explanations. But you’ve known him for such a long time that whenever he needs you, it’s usually very important. So you traveled many days to Rivendell where you met up with your other longtime friend Aragorn who has been traveling in the wilds since you last saw him, now looking incredibly less dirty if you may add.

It was a curious thing when you were gathered into a secret meeting where low and behold sat the one ring of all objects to grace your very eyes. Your inquisitive gaze scanned the open room as Lord Elrond spoke of the ring and who would be the one to help destroy it. You sat idly by the young hobbit Frodo, who Gandalf explained was the carrier of the one ring from all the way into the Shire to where he sits now. What a brave little fellow you thought. Directly in front of you from across the room sat Aragorn who was looking at the ring with a troublesome gaze upon his worried features.

 It was not until Boromir spoke did you realize the Prince of the Woodland Realm was among you. You didn’t exactly take the time to look at everyone sitting around the half circle when you got here, but your face softened the moment they locked eyes onto the attractive elven prince. You’d never met Legolas before, but you’ve heard about him through Aragorn and Elrond when he decided to vent about the dealings with Legolas’ kingdom. From that very moment you became immensely intrigued and drawn to the silver haired prince. Though your heart did leap when yourself and all of the Fellowship began the long journey to Mordor, you felt relieved and excited to be spending such a long time with Legolas. But as the weeks grew on, your feelings only grew stronger, and one night while on watch with Aragron, as the two of you sat away from the rest of your sleeping companions did you finally break your silence. 

“I must confess something to you or I fear it will eventually drive me mad. It concerns the likes of the only other elf among us, which I assume you’ve already guessed.” You begin with a sigh as you glance over to Aragorn for a moment, his eyes soften at this news that has been swirling within your mind for many days.

“What troubles you my friend?”

“My heart grows for the prince in a way that I did not expect. I enjoy his presence, the way he speaks, how he carries himself, his smile...and for that I cannot help it when I keep close to him while we travel.”

“I have noticed your longing eyes upon him, it is sweet.”

“In all my five-thousand years in this land, not once have I ever felt this way towards anyone. I cannot explain it Aragorn, it feels so strange...this feeling for him. So very strange.” Your brow furrows as you look off into the valley, Aragorn lends you a small smile though you don’t see it.

“My dear Y/N, I believe what you are experiencing is called love, well at least in human terms for that matter. I am happy for you, truly.” You turn your uneasy gaze to Aragorn, surprised to find him sharing a small smile with you. You turn your head towards the stars, closing your eyes as you feel a comforting breeze blow through your half braided hair. 

“Your words are kind indeed, but I cannot tell if he feels the same in anyway.....that is what scares me.”

“Let him know of your admiration in subtle ways, he should figure it out eventually. I know Legolas, Y/N, he is smart and sharp as the edge of a dagger.”

For the next week you thought hard about your conversation with Aragorn that night, so as the days rolled past and the nights came and went, you stayed at a healthy closeness to the prince and seeked his company in quiet moments when the Fellowship was at rest. To your great astonishment, Legolas deemed you quit comforting and unexpectedly full of good humor as well as kind-hearted and protective over the hobbits. You had more then once caught him staring at you when he thought you weren't looking, it always brought a warm smile to your face. But nothing more was said or done and your painfully obvious attraction towards Legolas was becoming increasingly more entertaining for Aragorn, within the daily trials of continuous walking and watching out for the hobbits and evil creatures alike. He truly felt for you and your internal frustration with these newly intense feelings for someone that you had never felt before. He understood that as an elf, when they fall in love, they fall with all of their heart and soul for whoever graces their path. 

The Fellowship had stopped for a small break after a long and tiresome hike up a large rocky hill for the past two hours, you practically had to carry Pippin up the last fifteen minutes of rough trailing just to make sure everyone was together at the top. Not even five peaceful minutes of rest could you have before Merry and Pippin were already forcing you into a game of who can throw a rock the farthest over the cliff. Not one to ever decline such an appealing invitation, you oblige and walk over to the cliff edge while the rest of the Fellowship watches in amusement. You chuck a fist sized rock into oblivion, unbeknownst to you from a spot higher up on the rocky edge, Aragorn has walked over to Legolas, deciding to figure out his elven friends innermost feelings.

“Y/N is a fascinating being isn’t she, I’ve never seen someone so willing to join in on the games of hobbits, her heart is kind, she’s good company.” Starts Aragorn as Legolas shifts his eyes from him and back to you again, the ghost of a smile forming onto his lips.

“I’m actually quite fond of her presence...it has surprised me.”

“Oh?” Wonders Aragorn with a knowing look that’s lost to Legolas as his attention is fixated on you and the two hobbits. 

“Yes. I did not expect to enjoy her company so much. Not ever have I met someone so unawares to how truly divine and clever they are...or beautiful.” Explains Legolas as he whispers the last part, its so quite that Aragorn almost misses it but he does not and a small laugh escapes him. Legolas abruptly turns to his friend, his expression a mix of embarrassment and slight dejection. 

“I do not laugh at your tellings my friend, if only Y/N new. She would be very pleased to hear this I’m certain.” Replies Aragorn with a nod, Legolas’ brow furrows in deep thought.

“What do you mean?” He questions, confused as to what Aragorn is implying.

“Have you not noticed? She feels much for you in these past weeks of our journey. Y/N has given you a place in her heart, do you understand my meaning now?” 

Legolas’ face changes to a new realization as he slowly turns his head to a smiling Aragorn, “Y/N loves me? I thought it was only I who felt that way, how could I have missed it?” He says astonished as his face breaks out into a beaming grin. “She loves me. Y/N loves me. This day has been weary and long, but my heart leaps with this news. I will tell her tonight when we rest for the day, I only hope that she will be just as joyous, even with my lack of a gift.”

“I don’t believe she’ll mind. Just knowing you feel the same should suffice.” Adds Aragorn with a friendly pat to Legolas’ shoulder, he flashes him a quick smile before staring at you adoringly once again. 

[hey-its-nonny]

chapter two!! these will be very inconsistent concerning the times that they’re released and i’m sorry lol bUT i’ll write as much as i can when i can and try to make a posting schedule :) hope y’all enjoy it!! side note: this picks up right where we left off last chapter :) warning: slight slight angst in the beginning ~~~~ The quiet crackle of the fire was all that could be heard in the night. Silence was often a blessing in times like these. It allowed you to be alone with your thoughts for a while and process what happened.

But, if you were being honest, you just wanted to forget about it.

You wanted to not think about it. To not think about the fact that you’d almost lost your very best friend to an orc, and that you hadn’t stopped it. Legolas did. You locked your gaze on the flickering flames before you, poking the fire to keep it alight.

Your thoughts went dark as your eyes remained fixed in the flame, your sharp and aware expression going dull. What if Legolas hadn’t made it in time? What if Aragorn had died? You wouldn’t have known what to do with yourself.

But a familiar voice saved you from your thoughts. “If you’re going to take the night watch, you should keep your senses about you.” The elf chimed, causing you to jump at the sudden noise. You looked up to find the elf observing your features intently, his own expression..smug?

You peered into his blue eyes, unaware of what you were searching for. Then, you realized you’d been staring for just a little too long.

At that, you redirected your gaze to the fire, suddenly very interested in poking the fire. “I didn’t know you were awake.” You admitted in a still voice, subconsciously pulling the cloak tighter around yourself.

Even as you looked away from him, Legolas still seemed to find a very keen interest in your face. You felt exposed and you did not like it at all.

“You seem troubled. What is bothering you?” He asked in a quiet, nonchalant voice, careful not to wake the sleeping man a few feet away from him. You turned your head up at the question, brows slightly raised in surprise.

As it turned out, you didn’t like being so easily read. It was annoying. “Nothing.” You answered curtly, leaning against the rock behind you as you let your eyes close for a moment.

You breathed in, focusing on whatever you could to calm yourself. Whatever would help you forget that you almost lost Aragorn. Then, you breathed out all of the stress from the day, relaxing before you spoke once more. “Thank you,” You breathed, lifting your head to look at the elf with gratitude.

He looked confused for a moment, before you explained. “for saving Aragorn. I do not know what I would have done if I’d lost him.” You admitted, your tone solemn. Legolas nodded, offering an almost warm smile in return. After seconds of silence, Legolas’ voice could be heard.

“So the two of you are close, I suppose?” He inquired, raising a brow in question. “Yes. He’s my best friend.” You confirmed with a slight smile, but then you remembered: you didn’t even know the elf you were talking to. “And there is not a thing I wouldn’t do to protect him.” You stated, the other taking the warning you gave.

Telling him a little bit couldn’t do any harm, could it? “I did not have family growing up. So, when I met A-“ You stopped for a split second, correcting yourself quickly. “Strider, there was almost an instant bond between us.”

“He has been like my brother ever since.” A smile tugged on the ends of your lips, crinkling the corners of your eyes and filling your body with a temporary sense of warmth. Legolas seemed sad, like you spoke of things that were merely wishes to him.

And the cold came back, more bone-chilling and violent than ever. You quietly groaned, narrowing your eyes at the entrance to the cave, tugging the cloak with an annoyed expression. “How about you? What was it like for you growing up?” You asked through slightly chattering teeth, a brow raised.

Legolas simply stood, walking over to sit next to you. What was he doing? You stared at Legolas with a rather confused expression, relaxing a bit when he mimicked your actions from earlier with his head resting against the rock wall behind the both of you.

“I am an only child.” The elf finally spoke up, opening one of his eyes to peer at you. “I was raised in Mirkwood, brought up by my mother and father, Elerrian and Thranduil.” He elaborated, eyes dim with an emotion close to grief.

Then, it clicked.

You nodded in understanding, deducing that this was, in fact, the prince of Mirkwood. You’d expected him to be handsome, given what you’d heard, but this was a bit unexpected.

Shaking your head in the slightest way, you dismissed the thought and turned to ask, “What are you doing here, then?” You slightly tilted your head, leaning in a little out of curiosity.

“I couldn’t go back, so I came to find him.” The elf nodded towards Aragorn, then stopped to look at you. “And I suppose you as well.” He added, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him with your elbow. “Do my eyes betray me, or is that a smile I see on your face?” You lightly taunted, drawing a chuckle from the elf. “I was beginning to wonder if you were even capable of such an expression.” You added, chuckling quietly as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

As the night went on, you found it harder to stay awake. So, you kept on telling stories of your adventures with Aragorn, keeping your eyes open as best you could.

“I remember traveling to the woodland realm with Strider once. It was beautiful.” You reminisced, leaning into Legolas’ side more than you meant to. “We got lost for a while, but eventually we found our way.” “A lot has changed since then.” The elf added, a twinge of sadness behind his deep blue eyes.

“Why did you come to find us? You didn’t explain that much.” You asked, forcing your eyes to stay open while you nodded off. “The battle for Erebor took its toll on everyone. Including me.” He stared at the ground, fiddling with his fingers.

“One I held dear did not return my affections, but instead held close to another.” He admitted, the information only drawing further sadness from the eyes you’d begun to grow fond of.

Though he didn’t show it, at least not intentionally, you could tell that it still hurt for Legolas to talk about this. And that’s when you felt guilty for asking. “I’m sorry, I did not know.” You quietly apologized, placing a hesitant, yet comforting hand on the elf’s shoulder.

Beneath your cold s/c palm, you felt a slight flinch, but soon the other relaxed into the touch after a few moments. This woman he fancied had really broken his heart, hadn’t she? The elf conveyed no further emotion in the eyes that told you so much, yet so little, nodding in acknowledgement.

“You’re right, mellon, you didn’t know. You do not need to apologize.” He reassured, taking note of your struggle to stay awake. And just as he did, you drifted off to sleep, resting your head, surprisingly, on his shoulder. He was okay with that. ~~~~~ chapter two is out!!! i’m really happy with this one. also, a HUGE shoutout to @sokkasdarling who helped me out with this last part i was struggling with. love ya hon <3 tagging: @elvish-sky @themerriweathermage please private message me if you want to be added to the tag list, otherwise i’ll forget. thank you all so much for reading and for all of your support! i love and appreciate y’all so much 💞💞

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Shopping For Clothes Fixes Everything (Legolas and Frodo)

Synopsis: Frodo is underdressed for Aragorn’s coronation, Legolas is generally well-known for being a hot-cake, so he helps his little hobbit friend out. Also Merry, Sam and Pippin can now blame Legolas for mentioning sailing west to Frodo, and planting the idea in his angsty mind.

AN: Frodo and Legolas did not have enough time together onscreen, therefore my imagination can decide whatever it wants, and I decide they’re best friends who enjoy trees and shopping together. Also they’re prolly gay for each other, it’s whatever.

Warnings: Woah, Nelly—careful where you step. There’s some gay sprinkled in.

Pairings: Legolas/Frodo (kinda platonic, kinda gay. Idk you decide)

All had been invited to attend Aragorn’s coronation in Gondor—or, ‘Strider’, as Frodo once knew him. Each and every member of the Fellowship was expected to attend, for no reason other than the honouring of their forged friendship made along the perilous roads to Mordor.

Nobody was an exception to this expectation, so when Frodo arrived in the white streets of Gondor, he was very pleased to be reunited with all his friends.

Now, there was a certain level of dress code to be upheld at royal coronations, apparently. The hobbits, of course, had no warning of this. Instead, they had showed up with nothing but their daily scrubs from the Shire—their finest clothing, mind you, but still too casual in the presence of elves and royalty alike.

Stopping before his reflection in a shiny podium, Frodo sighed. He still wore his Shire clothing, and looked rather out of place among the silk, leather and other rich materials he passed by. At least he was shorter than the hems of some robes, he supposed.

Stopping before his reflection in a shiny podium, Frodo sighed. He still wore his Shire clothing, and looked rather out of place among the silk, leather and other rich materials he passed by. At least he was shorter than the hems of some robes, he supposed.

Alas, he knew he needed to appear his best.

The more and more Frodo scrutinised his casual appearance in the shiny podium, the more others in his mind contrasted against him. He needed help with clothing—preferably from someone adept in the aesthetic department.

Only one friend came to mind.

Frodo knocked gently against the large door to the room he knew was loaned to Legolas. It, too, like his own, was large and spacious inside. A balcony overlooked all of Gondor, and shiny was the room—a most pure in white, too.

There was hardly any sound of shuffling on the other side of the door, before it soundlessly opened. Legolas stood in the doorway, and stared ahead with a curiously expectant expression.

However, when he found no one facing him, memories of the Fellowship caused him to lower his head three feet above ground. There, he met Frodo’s eyes.

“Oh, hello,” said Legolas. “I was expecting someone—”

“Taller?” Frodo jested back. A smile quirked on his lips.

Humour, too, ran along Legolas’ features, as he stepped aside to let his friend in. “Perhaps, but you said it first—not me.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

“Careful now—there are ears everywhere in Gondor, even if they don’t belong to elves,” Legolas said in amusement. “People eavesdrop and make assumptions.”

“Sounds like the Shire,” Frodo responded in amusement.

Using his foot, Legolas closed the door. “I have been meaning to make plans to visit the Shire, but Gandalf and Gimli have warned me of the confusing roads leading in.”

Chuckling loudly in a light-hearted manner, Frodo sat down at a table for tea in the near-centre of Legolas’ room. “Forgive me, but I always assumed you were the better navigator between Aragorn and yourself?”

Reaching for teabags high up on a shelf, Legolas looked over his shoulder and winced his teeth. “I might have exaggerated my abilities, just a little.”

“Just a little,” Frodo agreed, smiling a toothy smile nonetheless, with a little nod of his head.

“Alas, perhaps I’ll just have to return with you, Sam, Merry and Pippin after the coronation,” Legolas pressed on, now walking back to the table. “I definitely will not get lost that way.”

“You mentioned Pippin,” Frodo deadpanned. “Getting side-tracked is a guarantee.”

“Ah, well, then another adventure!” Legolas proclaimed. He now sat himself down, and passed a dainty teacup along to Frodo.

“Oh, please, no more adventures,” Frodo groaned, with his head buried into the crook of his elbow.

Legolas, with his quick eye, took notice of Frodo’s hand reaching up to his neck, as if to grasp at the ring. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, Legolas cleared his throat. He, too, forced the lingering memories of Mordor down, as he poured the lemon-scented tea.

Those days had not yet readily left anyone, nor would for a long time.

“Perhaps not…” Legolas agreed.

Lifting his eyes, Frodo smiled at his friend. He took the tea from Legolas, and watched the leaves swirl around in his cup.

“Regardless,” he piped up, “what have you been doing since our completion?”

“Well,” Legolas readily inhaled, looking upwards in thought, “let’s see—as of right now, I am currently representing my kingdom for Aragorn’s coronation—per my Ada’s wishes, of course.”

“Of course,” Frodo grinned back, finding amusement in Bilbo’s stories of being captured by Thranduil.

“And beyond that,” Legolas continued, “well…I was hoping to restore the trees of Ithilien, actually. They need much tending to after, well…you know.”

“I do.” Frodo nodded his head. “That’s rather exciting for you, then? Isn’t it? Working with trees? A passion of yours, truly.”

“It is.” Legolas shrugged. “If I can be completely honest, though?”

“I’m all ears,” Frodo teased, leaning with his arms folded over the table.

Legolas grinned back at his friend’s antics, before continuing on. “I saw a gull flying overhead today, and I know this may sound a little odd, but…”

“Go on,” Frodo slowly encouraged, now enthralled by his friend’s words.

“Well, I couldn’t help but feel the desire to sail west,” he revealed at last, as if confessing his darkest secret.

“Sail west?” Frodo inquired.

“Yes, to Valinor,” Legolas explained. “When the weight of Middle-earth grows too much, my kin are free to travel to our origins. It heals both the heart and mind, so they say.”

“Oh, really?” Frodo pressed deeper. “That sounds rather ideal…will you go?”

Legolas shrugged again. “I’m not too sure at the present moment. I suppose I will one day, but…all of my friends are still here—my life. Perhaps one day, as I do believe it is inevitable, but not anytime soon.”

“I am a little jealous, to be perfectly honest,” Frodo confessed in return.

“How so?” Legolas pressed, taking the first sip of his tea.

“Of your choice,” he replied. “To heal the heart and mind overseas—I wish I had that option.”

Legolas threw his eyes down at the table in thought, and thrummed his fingers against his mug. “You know, Frodo—your sacrifice with Sauron’s Ring goes beyond what any other in Middle-earth has done, let alone any elf.”

At his friend’s words, Frodo knitted his brows. “What are you saying, Legolas?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Legolas shook his head, with an allusive quirk of his lips, “but I know the Valar to be very…open, regarding these sorts of things. Perhaps a conversation with Gandalf could do you well?”

“Well, I don’t like your allusive tone, but I’ll heed your advice and speak with him after the coronation,” Frodo chuckled back.

“Well-met,” Legolas laughed in turn.

The two friends soon fell into a comfortable silence, until Legolas opted to break it again.

“So, I do not imagine you came to find me on the basis of our shared woes,” he said through a sip of tea. “What may I help you with, besides gracing you with my presence?”

“Oh, elves,” Frodo replied, wistfully. “So beautiful, and so vain—which is actually precisely why I came to find you.”

“Pray tell,” Legolas smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Catching his friend’s pride, Frodo shook his head and grinned. Trust Prince Legolas to know his worth, Frodo mused.

“You see, no body informed me of the expected attire at Aragorn’s coronation,” Frodo went on. “I’ve merely arrived in my Sunday vest, and best trousers—”

“Uh, I don’t think any of my garments will fit you, Frodo,” Legolas interjected, with a glance over his shoulder eyeing off his silver robes.

“No, I know that,” Frodo rolled his eyes with a smile. “However, surely you, of all people, must know best how to help me in this regard?”

Turning his eyes back to his friend, Legolas quirked a brow. He narrowed his gaze, and analysed the hobbit. However, soon, a grin began to tug at Legolas’ lips.

He stood up in his chair, offered Frodo his hand, and spoke excitedly in confidence. “Say no more, mellon nîn. I have just the idea for you.”

Frodo returned his friend’s smile, took his hand, and allowed the elf to hoist him from his chair. “Well, thank you! But no satin, please!”

“Why must it always be you who wishes to suck the joy out of everything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry—did you carry an evil ring to Mordor?”

“No, but I had to run for three days-straight.”

“My sincere apologies.”

“It’s okay, shopping for clothes fixes everything.”

[writingfromkitchenator]

Eomer ~ It Is My Secret

1,300 Followers Challenge!

Round 2

Masterlist

Requested by Anon

Words: 1,954

Warnings: Neutral Winged Reader, smidge of angst, mentions of battle and war, awkward fluff, suggested soul mates

Eomer sat on the steps of Edoras, his head resting on his hands as he watched his people start to put things back together.  He was glad that Saruman's army had never made it this far, the battle of Helms Deep still very fresh in his mind, but there was another reason why he sat there and dwelled on it.

He learnt from Aragorn that they had been desperate, that they were down to their last efforts in riding the invaders, charging out from the main hall.  They had arrived just in time with their charge.

But he, and none of his men had expected the sight before them.

It wasn’t the army, no, Gandalf had warned them well enough of what was coming.  It was the bright, burning, white-gold light that was shining from Helms Deep, the uruk-hai cowering before it, barely registering the other army now before them. Eomer had sworn that there was a figure within that light, but as the sun crested over the hill, it all blended together, and within what felt like moments, that battle was over.

The thought of the figure was pushed from his mind for a little while, at least, that was until he saw you walking towards Gandalf.

His breath was stolen from him almost instantly.  You were beautiful, of that he had no doubt, a soft glow seeming to surround you, but what really drew his gaze was the large white wings that were folded neatly at your back.  In all his years, he had never seen anything quite like it, and yet, it just added to the feelings already filling his chest.

Your gaze met his as you talked to Gandalf, and he thought that all time had stopped.  Without a doubt he suddenly knew that it was you he’d seen on the battlements, sending forth your light, arms spread wide into the waning night, burning and startling the gazes of the enemy so that the others could have a fighting chance.

He had to speak to you.

Theoden saw him looking and called him over, introducing you. Eomer fought to keep his gaze on yours as they talked, but now that he was closer, your wings were even more illuminating.  He greatly had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them.

It was as they talked though, as you discussed what was to come next, that he realised that something was different about the way they watched you compared to what he felt.  Surely when someone with such an ethereal feel to them would draw all sorts of wonder from their gazes?  No matter how long they had known you, surely there would still be some sort of recognisable look that they would give you, especially when your wings just flowed so easily as part of you, as if you weren’t even aware they were there.

Slowly, it dawned on him, that they could not see them.

So as you went your separate ways to begin regathering the people, to begin the long road to cleaning up and preparing for what was next, he made a promise to himself that he would find you and talk to you where no other ears could listen.

Eomer got his chance quite by accident, carrying some supplies into a room to be sorted, and finding you already there alone, going through some items.

He’d bowed politely.  “Apologies to barge in, I, ah, just had these to bring in.”

Your smile made his heart race.  “That’s quite alright.  Just put them in the corner over there, I’ll get to it all slowly.”

Eomer’s face went red, he could feel it, but he did as you asked. He should’ve left then, should’ve just waited for another time, but as he watched you, as he admired your wings again in such close quarters, he couldn’t help himself.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” He said quietly, earning your gaze again.  “What are you?”

You frowned for a moment, the question taking you by surprise, before you looked at him.  It was quiet a hard look, surprising him, but he felt no ill intent towards it. “You…can see me?”

Eomer nods, unsure of how else to take this reaction.

Your mouth opened for a moment, before it closed again and you hummed thoughtfully, eyeing him carefully.  “What exactly can you see?”

“Your wings,” He whispered, the moment feeling so strange, his eyes wandering to them.  “They are…unlike anything I have ever seen before.  It is a wonder to behold.  You-you are a wonder to behold.”

This seemed to you back even more, your frown deepening, and he couldn’t help but suddenly feel like he’d unintentionally crossed some sort of line.

“I am not used to people being able to see me,” You said, a little wearily.  “Not unless I choose to do so.  This is…an unexpected development.”

“Why would you wish to hide this?”  Eomer asked without thinking.  “Why would-”

“My reasons are my own,” You said quickly, cutting him off. “And I must ask that you do not mention this to anyone Eomer, not until I have had time to think this over.”

A momentary panic filled him.  “If I have upset you-”

“You haven’t,” You said.  “It’s just...a surprise.  I would never have expected this to happen.”

“But-”

“We can talk some more later,” You said, something pained crossing your expression for a brief moment.  “Please, Eomer, I just need some time.”

He had left you be, against the own judgement and aching of his heart.  It was then a long few days through Helms Deep and traveling back to Edoras.  Too often he found himself watching you, and more than once your gaze had met his and he’d had to force himself to look away. Your wings glowed in the sunlight as you rode ahead of him, and he had all but committed the sight to memory.

Now, as he sat watching his people slowly recover, he wondered whether you would actually ever talk to him again, whether there could have been something different he could have done.  You’d been avoiding him since your return here.

There is a soft chuckle and Eomer finally looks up, finding Eowyn watching him with a gentle smile.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so pensive before.  Is there someone you would like to talk about?”

Eomer rolls his eyes and looks back out.  “No.”

Eowyn steps next to him.  “I’m sure that it cannot be that bad.  I have not seen you this miserable in a long time.”

“Miserable?”  He asked, and slowly, it dawned on him.  He was, he was utterly miserable that you weren’t talking to him, that whatever had happened had been left so open.  Eomer didn’t understand it and it only made him question more why you were having such an effect on him.

She sits next to him, a gentle hand resting on his arm. “Are you alright brother?”

Eomer lets out a slow breath, pushing his hair back and rubbing his neck.  “I do not know.  I do not know what is happening to me.  Perhaps it is these times…or perhaps I said something wrong.  I just do not know.”

“If that is the case,” Eowyn said.  “Then would not words solve the problem.”

He wished he had an answer for that, because for all he knew, you would never speak to him again.

“I hate upsetting the nice one.”  He muttered under his breath. “I hate it.  This should not be that difficult.”

Tension shot up his back as someone cleared their throat behind them, only to turn and see you standing there, looking a little sheepish, and giving a polite bow.  “Lady Eowyn, may I talk with Lord Eomer privately for a moment?”

Eowyn’s smile said everything as she gets up.  “Of course. Perhaps you can pull him from his misery.”

Eomer suddenly wanted Eowyn to come back as you joined him.  Silence dragged on for a long moment, silence in which he observed you from the corner of his eye, watching as you quietly seemed to wait.

“I am sorry if I was short with you the other day,” You said, just as he thought he was about to snap. “It was not my intention.  I am…not used to people being able to see me. For most, I am simply another human, and it is often much simpler to offer only that.”

You let out a slow breath and give him a kind smile.  “I would also not have expected to find one like you in such a time, as dark as it is becoming.”

“One such as me?” Eomer asked, frowning slightly.

“Yes,” You nod, but look away.  “Perhaps once this over, I can explain more, but for now, know that you have done nothing wrong Eomer.”

He finally seemed to relax, feeling an ache lifted from his chest, and he couldn’t help but look at you gratefully.  “If I was too direct…”

You shook your head. “You could not have known. Knowledge of what I am was lost to many of you long ago, and thus, I think it may be safer to remain.  Just know that I will not be far from your side should you need me.”

Eomer felt himself flush, but before he could help himself, he slid closer to you, a gentle hand resting on your knee.  “Do not burden yourself so, especially not in times like this.  I am here for you, because you have already shown you are there for everyone.”

A little chuckle leaves you and your hand rests atop his.  “In this matter, I do not have a choice, nor would I wish it any other way. We are bound on a path forward Eomer, and I know you wish more of an answer to that, I know you feel it as I do, but for now, that must be enough.”

“It is,” He said, his eyes flicking between yours before they wander to your wings, still sitting so easily behind you.  “When we have won this war…”

You smiled softly and before he can ask anything else, you unfurled one of your wings and wrapped it around him, pushing both of you closer together.

A small shiver goes through him as stares at the white feathers, feeling just how soft it was pressed against him, his hand almost reaching out to touch it before he met your gaze again.

“Here,” You said softly, handing him a single white feathers, it feeling oddly warm in his hands. “Others cannot see it, but I would still keep it secret.  It is my secret, one I am now trusting you with. There are still things that can reveal me, and that can become a danger if we are not careful.”

Eomer stares at the feather for a long moment, his fingers brushing through it, feeling it against his fingertips and almost entirely speechless on receiving such a gift.  “I will keep it.”

“Good,” You leaned over and kissed his cheek gently, making him freeze.  “Then we shall leave it as that for now.  When things are over, when we find ourselves alone again, then I shall say more.”

With that, you stood and stepped away, leaving Eomer sitting there in a quiet, stunned silence, unsure now of what to do with himself.  Your feather span in his fingers and he watched it catch the light, much like your wings did, his heart singing more than what it ever had.

He smiled and tucked it neatly away, close to heart, before he stood and followed after you, knowing that the time had come to discuss the coming war.

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

The Arrangement pt 2

Strider shook his head with laughter as you fell from a tree. “Owww” you whined. “How is it that you can climb trees but coming back down is an issue?” Strider teased. “I blame lack of balance.” you said. He kneeled next to you, pulling you forward before you winced. He shook his head and you sighed. “When are we heading back?” you asked. “We should be back by nightfall.” Strider said. You almost seemed to pout in response. “Come now, it won’t be that bad.” Strider said, helping you up. “It’s enough that I was born into the the title, but now I have to officially accept it through a ceremony. This is ridiculous.” You huffed. “Buuuttt you can’t get out of it.” Strider said. “I mean... You could kidnap me.” you suggested. He rolled his eyes. “Y/n, you know the deal.” he said. “Alright! Alright. But only if you suffer through the coronation too.” you said. “Y/n, I was already going.” He said. You grinned. “Really? Color me impressed for wanting to be there!” You said. “....I never said I wanted to go, I said I was going” He said. 

You two walked, you listening to the trees with a sigh. “What are they saying?” He asked. He wasn’t elven and didn’t have the gift for listening to nature. He had heard from others on how elves could listen to nature. “Others have been through here. Probably on their merry little ways to my official ceremony of suffering.” you said making him shake his head. “Some people would kill for this life.” He said. “When have I been other people?” you asked. “...Fair point.” He nodded. 

A wind brushed your face, almost like a caress. You smiled and let out a breath. "It's like the trees know I'm uneasy." You said. "What makes you nervous?" Strider asked. "I have a tendency to... Embarrass myself in front of the royalty in my family." You muttered. "I'm sure it's not--" "I've accidentally stabbed Galadriel with a fork at dinner. Do not finish that sentence." You halted. Strider blinked. "Y/n. Remember, there's at least two friends in that room with you." He said. "Two?" You asked. "I assume you're close with Arwen?" He asked. You nodded slowly but seemed to have a questioning look on your face. "...Yes. You seem to bring her up a lot more, is there something going on between you two?" You asked. Strider rose a brow. "Are you asking me if I'm involved with your sister?" He asked. "Are you?" You asked. "No." He said.

While Arwen was beautiful, she was different. You were more complex, more unpredictable. Arwen was, to put it simply, who Elrond wanted you to be. You had certain similarities, you were unbelievably kind, intelligent, and definitely beautiful. But your beauty was ethereal. It was unreal to Strider how you seemed so beautiful at times where you didn't mean to. When you were pulling back your hair, when you were listening to the trees, when you reading, when you were talking to your sister and laughing with her. It made him question if Arwen was accurate in her thinking.

Something about seeing you actually enjoy home at times made him happy. It let him know that you weren't completely miserable where you were, just not exactly happy with your situation. It was way to assure him that you were okay once he left. At times Strider didn't really want to leave you. Hell. There were days were he actually missed you. He'd keep it to himself but it would show when he'd see you again and he'd smile.

You walked, looking over at Strider who was awfully quiet. "What's going on in that head of yours?" You asked. He realized he had been lost in thought this whole time, being quiet. It wasn't an unusual thing by any means for him to go silent. It was slightly unusual though for him to be silent while staring at you. Course that would be unusual for anyone.

"You'll make a good ruler one day." He said. You let out a small chuckle but realized he was being sincere. "...What makes you say that?" You asked. "You have the heart of a good queen." He said. You blinked, stopping and looking at him. "What?" He asked. "Nothing. Just a odd thing I've heard from a friend." You said. That's when you seemed to perk up. "I just realized something!" You gasped. He blinked. "What?" Strider asked. "Come on!" You ushered him forward. "Wha-- Y/n, what's going on?!" He asked, laughing slightly at your child-like excitement. "One of my friends is coming to this!" You said. "So you do have friends!" Strider teased. "He's actually a prince. Really interesting. Come onnnn!" You said rushing.

You were moving faster now, finally reaching Rivendell as the sun set. Elrond was greeting Galadriel, when he looked over. You noticed the familiar white horse, the elven sigil on inscribed on it's saddle. You dragged Strider with you as you looked around. "Arwen!" You whisper shouted. She looked over. "You're back early." She noticed. "Is he here?" You asked. She rolled her eyes. "I rarely get to see him!" You huffed. She pointed and you dragged Strider by his hand. Arwen shook her head with a small smile as he seemed to laugh. He was in love and she knew it. The question was: did he know yet?

"Legolas!" You called. A white haired figure turned around, a smile falling over him as you hugged him. "It is good to see you old friend!" You said. He pulled away blinking. "There's a man here." Legolas noticed. "Oh, Strider this is Legolas. Legolas this is Strider, my best friend." You introduced. Legolas shook his hand. "I see I've been overthrown as her best friend." Legolas teased. "You're never here to reclaim that title." You said with an eye roll. Strider looked around him, seeing the royalty. He felt slightly out of place but didn't seem to care. "Have you said hello to Arwen yet?" You asked as she walked over. "Not yet-- hello your grace." He answered.

"Good evening Legolas." She said with a smile. "Glad to see my sister is actually enjoying herself." Arwen said. "Is Haldir here?" You asked. "Yes, he's going to be there." Arwen said. She looked at you and sighed. "You need to change Y/n." She said, knowing damn well there would be a struggle. "As do you." She added to Strider. "I--" "I've left clothes in the room you usually stay in, Y/n if you struggle with me tonight out of all nights there will be hell to pay." She said, gritting her teeth while maintaining that sweet smile. "Oh I will wreak havoc." You muttered as she dragged you off, making Strider smile.

"How long have you known Y/n?" Legolas asked, sitting on the edge of the fountain. "A few months." He said. "I take it you're staying for the coronation?" Legolas asked. "Yes I am." He nodded. "Elrond has referred to you as an ambassador of sorts." He said. Strider bit back a laugh at this but nodded. "Word of advice. Stick to the back on the walls with Haldir and me and you should be fine." He said. "You really should change though. Elves in this setting tend to be..." Legolas leaned forward. "Judgmental. Emphasis on the mental." He said earning a silent snort from Aragorn.

Aragorn changed rather quickly, leaving his belongings in what was now basically his designated room. He looked at the ring that rested in one of the pockets in his pack, closing his eyes and remembering simpler times when his father spoke of preparing him for a day like this. Elrond was aware of his identity, giving the ring to him. How Elrond found out was lost on Aragorn, but he knew nonetheless. For some reason, you didn’t know. He wasn’t going to question why but he was confused on why your father wouldn’t tell you that he was the heir to Isildur. He put the ring back in the bag, walking out and back to Legolas. 

"Why is Y/n taking so long?" Strider asked. "Have you met her? She's probably fighting Arwen out of the dress as we speak." Legolas said. Truth be told he had never seen you out of armor. Not in royal garb anyway. You were always running wild in your armor, bringing stress to your father when Strider made himself present. "They're making it seem like the coronation is tonight." Strider said, noticing the servants run back and forth. "Tonight is the dinner before it with the leaders. Unfortunately we all must sit and suffer through it." Legolas muttered. "You don't seem to enjoy the royal life like the rest do." Strider noticed. "Me and Y/n share opinions on this. We believe the best way to keep a kingdom safe is to assist the people, making a point to not fear straying outside of the gates to actually protect your land. Instead our rulers don't leave their homes unless it's a political reason." Legolas explained. Strider nodded. "You don't get along with your father, do you?" He asked. "No. I don't." Legolas said. "Hm. I'm really beginning to understand the dynamic of your friendship with Y/n." Strider said. Legolas smiled, nodding. "The parallels of our lives are not lost on us." He said.

Finally you walked down the stairs, air getting stuck in Strider's throat. The dress was blue, sleeves hanging off you. You wore a small silver circlet, really showing your role as princess. "Arwen, this is very uncomfortable." You whispered. "Deal. With. It." She whispered. You rolled your eyes, walking over. "I see she attacked you with a corset." Legolas said. "And my own crown. This. Is. Hell." You muttered. Strider's eyes seemed wide as he looked at you. You looked over at Strider, stopping for a moment. "You... Clean up nice." You said, Legolas noticing the strange tension. "...As do you." Aragorn said. Arwen and Legolas exchanged a knowing look.

Elrond came over, making you cut your attention away. "The dinner is commencing soon, are you ready?" He asked. "Yes father." You said. "Strider is your escort tonight and tomorrow. My gift to you." He said with a slight eye roll. "Thank you father." You said with slight relief. "And you both look beautiful. Your mother would've loved to see this." Elrond said, putting a loving hand to your cheek. You and Arwen gave small smiles. Your eyes seemed to gloss over with sadness. "Strider, a moment please." Elrond said. He followed the lord, speaking with him. "Please try to keep Y/n calm. She has a tendency to... Shoot off at the mouth with royalty. Tonight out of all nights I need her to be proper." Elrond said. "I will do what I can, you know Y/n--" "There is no controlling her." Both of the men said in unison. It was odd really. It was like for a second they were... Bonding? "I can't make any promises, but I will do what I can." Strider said. "Thank you. Oh and if anyone asks, you're an ambassador." Elrond said before leaving. "... Ambassador?" He muttered to himself.

Strider walked back over, you looking at him. He smiled slightly and you smiled back, looking down as Arwen and Legolas talked. "It seems our team is back together." Haldir said, walking over. You chuckled, hugging the man. "team?" Strider asked. "Oh this group usually stays glued to the wall, whispering amongst themselves and trying to break the royal guard." Haldir said. "Break the royal guard?" Strider asked. "Guards here are trained to be very stoic and stone faced. They will stand next to them and get these men with years of training to crack a smirk, smile or laugh." Haldir said with a small laugh. "I believe our record was fifteen minutes, after the words 'flarpy blunderfloof' came out of Y/n's mouth." Arwen recalled making you all laugh. Strider smiled at this. You seemed to enjoy this particular group of people and that was nice, to see a smile like that on your face.

"Y/n, we're starting." Elrond called. You winced. "Shit." You muttered. The group all walked, Strider next to you. Galadriel and Thranduil stood near the table conversating with one another. Your heart pounded in your ears as you stood there, grabbing Strider's hand as an instinct out of fear. He looked over, seeing your frozen features. “Y/n. Breathe.” Legolas said, standing on your other side. “My. feet. won’t. move.” you muttered. “Y/n. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Galadriel said. You let go of Strider’s hand, Galadriel hugging you, She whispered an incantation in your ear, you immediately feeling calmer. “Thank you.” You whispered. “You seemed anxious.” she said softly, pulling away. “Let’s sit.” Legolas suggested. You nodded, Legolas pulling your chair out for Arwen’s chair out before he sat down. Strider pulled your chair out before sitting next to you, you looking at the elves around you. Legolas nudged you, nodding to the stone faced soldiers by the doors and you bit back a smile. 

The evening continued with talks of politics, speaking of the leaders. Then the story of the ring made the air tense “Whatever happened to that ring anyway?” One of the ambassadors asked. “Isildur never disposed of it. It’s been lost ever since.” Elrond said. Strider seemed to tense up, swallowing his drink. You seemed bored by the conversation, Strider taking it as you’ve heard this many times. Arwen looked over at Strider who had a unreadable expression. “I don’t think it has been... Completely lost.” you said, earning looks to you. “Are you implying you know where the ring is?” Thranduil asked. You shifted slightly. “I’ve heard rumblings. From the trees and the earth. Something is happening out there. Something strange.” You said. “I’ve heard similar rumblings myself.” Galadriel agreed. Good. So you weren’t on the brink of insanity. 

“Considering how long the ring has been hidden, I don’t expect it to turn up any time soon.” Thranduil commented. “Neither do I. Though it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.” Elrond nodded. “It won’t turn up for at least another twenty years.” Galadriel said. “Experiencing your visions again dear?” Celeborn asked. “This is one I can see clearly.” She said simply. “It will come to us in a unexpected form.” She said. “Will we be rid of the damn thing?” Thranduil asked. “That is not clear.” She said with slight disappointment. Legolas looked over at you with a small distain. 

“While we’re on the subject of foresight... Is there any way you can examine Y/n or at least Arwen?” Elrond asked. You turned your vision to Galadriel. “Would you mind?” Galadriel asked. You stood up, moving to her. Thranduil moved so you could sit in his seat, you giving her your hands as you sat. “There are many things to see with you my dear.” She said, closing her eyes. “You have a strong will to protect. Very appropriate for a leader to have.” Galadriel said softly. Strider rose a brow as Galadriel opened her eyes, wide with surprise. “Is something wrong?” you asked. “You will sit upon a throne if the future is hopeful.” She said. “with the man.” She added, everyone’s vision going to Strider. “I don’t think--” “There is more to you than you are telling us.” She said. Strider swallowed hard, disturbed by this comment. 

You looked at Galadriel and then Strider. “You are--” “stop.” you halted. Everyone looked to you. “I trust Strider. If he truly has been keeping another identity then he will tell me with time.” You said simply. “You put a lot of trust in someone who’s been lying to you.” Thranduil said, a disapproving look on his face. “It was foolish to assume is birth name was ‘Strider’ to begin with. I think it’s more of a title than an actual name.” You fired back. “She’s not wrong.” Strider said, clearing his throat. “We were well aware of the concealed identity.” Arwen said with a sigh. You looked over surprised. “Foresight runs within my veins as well.” She said. “You know?” Strider asked, now realizing how Elrond must’ve learned this. “I have known for two months.” She said, sipping on her elven wine. She must’ve told Elrond... She had to for him to just abruptly give him the ring. “Strider. A word.” You said, nodding to the doors. 

You pulled him into another room. “What the hell is going on in there?” you asked. “I...” He sighed. “I will explain after this. It’ll make more sense.” He said. “Promise me that I can still trust you after this.” you said. He paused, looking in your eyes. “Promise me that you are going to be honest with this, and tell me the truth.” You said. He couldn’t lie to those eyes. Those beautiful, telling eyes. “I will try.” he said. You nodded before walking back in. 

The evening continued, an awkward tension over everyone as time passed. Finally though, it was over, you and Strider walking to his room. “Are you going to explain?” you asked. He nodded, walking over to his pack. He pulled out the small silver band, it made to look like two serpents protecting the small emerald in the center. You recognized this and stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re... There’s no way.” You gaped. “I am Aragorn. Son of Arathorn II and Gilraen.” He said. You swallowed. “Now I know why you kept it from me. That’s... Quite a lot of information to process.” You gaped. “Take all the time you need, I understand if this makes things tense between--” “Why haven’t you made a claim for Gondor?” you asked. He put his hand on the back of his head, looking away. “I don’t trust myself to be a leader.” He admitted. “Why?” You asked. “My ancestor, the one from which I receive this ring from, is someone who became mad with power.” He said. You frowned. “What if temptation weakens me like it did him?” Aragorn asked. You stepped forward, lifting both of his hands and pulling back his sleeve and placing both of your thumbs on his veins. “You may share his blood Aragorn. But you will never be like Isildur.” you said softly. “How do you know that?” Aragorn asked. “Because Isildur wouldn’t have been worried about messing things up this badly to a point where he walked away from power.” You said. He looked down and you shook your head. “There’s a heart that beats strong in your chest, one that fights every day to be less like his ancestors. For that I find you honorable.” you said softly. 

Aragorn swallowed hard, looking at you with wide eyes. “I should go to bed. Long day tomorrow.” you breathed. “Oh! What do you wish for me to call you?” you asked. “What?” He asked. “You’re clearly uncomfortable by your heritage so do you want me to call you ‘Strider’ or ‘Aragorn’?” You asked. He pondered. “Aragorn when we’re here or just you and me, Strider when we’re elsewhere and in the presence of others.” He said. “You got it, Aragorn.” you said, small smirk coming to play upon your lips as you left. 

Aragorn looked at the silver band that now rested on his bed. When he first received this ring it almost seemed to mock him with intimidation. Tonight though, he finally had a voice, clear as day give him reason. For the first time, Aragorn didn’t hate his name. For the first time, he could actually breathe.

For the first time, he wore the ring.  

[idjitlili]

Eomer x reader

Warnings : a little steamy, if you don’t like mj don’t read

Summary:

Imagine somehow being teleported into lord of the rings and being in one of the tents with merry, at the eve of battle. Him being interested in what our world is like. In which eomer is peaking in jealousy.

Word count:2583

As you sat on the floor ,in the red and white canopy tent, merry looked at you with interest in front from your seat.

Merry gave you a big smile with half of his smirk up higher; after you somehow ended up in this strange world ,you became very closer with merry and pippin.

You had seen the two hobbits dance and sing days before, it was very strange , but uplifting and entertaining.

Merry had being asking you questions about your world the second you had gotten here, in fact minutes before now had been ,while practising his swordsmen skills on air.

“what is dancing like in your home, y/n?” Merry spoke break the comfortable silence you sat in.

“Well..um the dances I enjoy , is from before I was born or slightly after.” You explain quickly to the hobbit before continuing after taking a breather.

“There was this man, he was a talented singer and dancer. He has all these dance moves with are complexed yet he makes them look effortless. His name was Michael Jackson.”

Merry looks up at you with amazement wanting to hear more of the man.

“Would you teach me some of these dance moves,y/n?” He asks with pure delight.

You stand up quickly , holding out your hands for merry to take, he does , in which you pull him to his feet.

“Yes I will , okay his most known dance move is called the moonwalk.” You explain to him , then you take your shoes off and perform the action.

After you are done you look towards the hobbit struggling to repeat the move, you giggle at his attempt.

Unknown to you , a certain blonde haired future king to the throne of Rohan, had being watching more like stalking. He had pure jealousy written upon his face.

“No,no ,no merry. Here I’ll help.” You spoke to the hobbit , whilst bending down to the floor.

You lift his left heel up and pull his right leg back. Then you push the left heel down and bring up right and pull the left foot back behind.

“See you have to keep one heel up and the other down , in which the one is down you slide it back and then you change.” You explain as easy as you possible can.

“Ooohhhhhh, “ merry smiled bright at you and started trying again, this time he succeeded.

“Yesss , you got it dude.”

Suddenly you hear, someone clearing their throat from behind you. You look in the direction which the noise came from , to seem eomer. He has a scowl imprinted onto his face, you gulp nervously.

“Hey dude , what do need something?” You spoke dragging out the yes.

you had met eomer when you Aragorn ,Gimli and Legolas has been looking for the hobbits. He seemed to take an interest in you , not surprising you did look out of place. You wore clothes that were very different to what a woman in this world would wear. Not to mention that you was travelling with men, as a young woman. He had never heard anyone speak the way you had , using such words as dude for everyone, especially to royalty, you didn’t even bow.

You were a shy girl around people you didn’t know, you wish to seem as special to people, but in your heart you didn’t feel it. Not to mention you did this by naughty jokes , impressions or just speaking in pure quotes. Aragorn was not impressed when you stated a joke involving his name when the hobbits were no where to be found.

“Hey the hobbits Aragorn?!” You recall speaking to the small group of the fellowship that were left.

“Did you really just-“ Aragorn spoke before turning away searching for the trail of the hobbits. While gimli , enjoyed it very much.

After that you came up with another joke after Gimli spoke of his father and when the company were kidnapped by trolls.

“Gimli , do you know why they were discovered by the trolls?”

He looked up at you at and spoke “yeah they were try-“

However you interrupted him “Because he was Gloin in the dark.” He froze while legolas and Aragorn laughed.

“Why don’t you make fun of legolas for once?” He groaned at you.

You smirked to yourself, you had already planned this.

“Alright if you say so. Hey leggy. “ you spoke whilst placing your self on on the log next to legolas.

“Do you know what you would’ve been called if you had no legs?”

He frowned at you , not looking forward to what was to come. “No I do not , lady y/n. I assume the same.”

“Haha -wrong. Leg a less.Do you get it because your legs Aragorn.”

“Did you really had to add me to the joke?” Aragorn growled. You shrugged in response.

Eomer interrupted your thoughts , speaking “uh I just came to see what you two were doing.” He looked a little nervous, pink spread lightly on his cheeks.

“Oh , I was just teaching Merry some dance moves from my home, so he can impress some lady’s.” You respond to Eomer with a giggle whilst looking at merry who was in his own world, still moonwalking. You walked closer the entrance of the tent allowing Eomer in.

“That’s very nice of you lady y/n , that’s a strange move, yet so admiring” You smile lightly at him.

“Thank you ,Eomer, but please you don’t have to call me lady, I am not a lady , I am barely an adult. Plus I am not of importance just y/n.” You spoke with a light blush upon your face. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself, Eomer was very handsome.

“Oh L- y/n you of much of an importance especially to that hobbit there. You are very interesting to many men , with your unique personality , you have a lot of men swooning for you. It doesn’t help you are a very pretty girl.” His face flushed with red now, yours the same.

“T-thank you , I am not used to people thinking such things or calling me me pretty. “ you spoke quickly sputtering your words.

“Surely the reason is you have been courting a man and he threatens anyone that goes near you?”

You scoff at his words, he looks at you confused, “I am sorry to disappoint but that’s definitely not it, I haven’t ever had a proper relationship with a dude. NoT even a kiss.”

You look at your feet with embarrassment, after looking up at Eomer his mouth gapped with shock.

“That’s hard to believe for such a lovely person. None of them clearly deserve you.” He sincerely spoke , you feel his eyes on.

“More like the other way round. Do you want something to eat I made mash potatoes, we was about to eat?” You start walking towards the food getting bowls to dish it up.

“No one deserves you if they don’t tell you are beautiful. If you have enough , I will.” He gazes upon you.

You blush harder than you think possible.

“Yes we have more than enough come sit.” You gesture to fabric covered floor because it’s not like you can have furniture on a soon to be war zone.

“Merry sit down , before spill the drinks.”

You demand the hobbit.

“Yes ma.” He grins at you.

“Excuse you I think you are double my age. Here.” You pass the two men their food , receive thank yous, before sitting beside eomer on your bedroll.

What can you say , you just love mash potatoes.

You ,merry ,and eomer talked for hours , before you know it merry had fallen asleep and it was way past midnight.

You had been talking about your difficulties, trying to get Mordor, as you hadn’t been trained like the rest of the fellowship, plus you were only 18.

“that must have been very hard.” Eomer tells you , laughing.

Your smile turns into a straight face, before twitching up.

“That’s what she said” you begin to laugh hysterically, covering your mouth trying not to awake pippin.

Eomer looks at you confused but still laughs with you. “What does that mean?”

“ it’s a sex joke dude because-“ you began but are cut off by eomer.

“I didn’t know woman made such jokes especially someone so young.” He laughs

“Yes my dude , me and my friends back home do, they tell me I am too dirty minded. .” I smirk towards him.

“What makes them think you are,y/n?” he asks returning a smirk.

“Well my lord , I may have a slight thing for older men with stubble, let’s just leave it at that, I’ll spare you of the details.” Your eyes gaze down to his beard and back to his eyes, Blood rushes to your face.He twitches when you call him my lord, gazing at you.

“Oh , I see. Yet you still haven’t been kissed. “ he notices your gaze on his beard smirking bigger than before.

“yes tis true , I can’t help that, but I can imagine. Plus I got hands.” You giggle to yourself.

“ indeed you do, as do I. If you are referring to the same activities.” He chuckles at your humour.

“Yes I am.”

You both stare intensely at each other , eyes flickering at each other’s lips, slowly leaning forward. Lips almost grazing each other , when you breathe in. His breathe is hot on your face. Eomers soft blond locks slightly hitting against your face.

He then whispers to you slowly, “may I kiss you?” You nod your head slowly, nervously. His large rough hands land upon your cheeks softly. He places his lips upon yours lip the flutter of a butterfly. It was just a peck, yet electricity flew through body. He removes his hands from your face and looks into your eyes.

You quickly wrap your arms his neck against his hair , you press your lips against his roughly , he pulls you close by wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He gently bites your bottom lip , earning a small moan from your mouth, and causing your mouth to gap. You feel his smirk against your face and he takes his opening to put his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

Your hands end up into his locks slightly pulling , a small grunt leaves his lips. It sounded like keanu reeves.you shuffle yourself into his lap straddling him. His hands on your back under your shirt. You pull back still in his lap to breathe. You mumble “thank you.”

You go to kiss him again , missing his lips. He eagerly kisses back , lips colliding.one of his hands grips your upper back ,the other on your bottom. Lifting you over to your bed roll placing you down , your legs wrapped around his waist so tight that if it was his neck he would be dead soon. His head travels down your neck. Kissing it gently , then suddenly biting it and sucking on your soft skin. He earns multiple loud moans which you try to conceal with your hands.

His hands tug at the bottom of your shirt , you sit up slightly so he can remove it, leaving you bare with just your bra on. His eyes scan you. You frown slightly, feeling insecure. “You are beautiful.” He mumbles into neck. You then grab his face kissing him again. You pull his tunic shirt from his chest and kiss down his neck , like he did too you , sucking slightly , surely leaving marks. His hands travel up your sides slowly.

You begin grinding harshly into eomers , now erected cock. His clothed large erection twitching.He grunts at your actions. He begins to whisper “we should wait , we will wake merry.”

“No , I promise I’ll be quiet.” You whine to him quietly.

He leans down to your ear “no you won’t my love, you will be screaming my name.” his low voice sends chills down your spin. Your face flushed with colour.

“Okay but after the battle ?” You ask eagerly , he smirks and nods his head pressing A kiss to your lips.

“Are you going to stay in here tonight then? It’s very late.” You ask him looking into his eyes trying to hide the excitement from the event that have just occurred.

“ I cannot , my bed roll is my tent.” He sighs at the thought.

“You can share with me if you want?” You smile at him.

“Okay , I shall stay.” He sits up and puts his shirt back on as do you , but removing the bra because who sleeps in a bra. You both lay and he pulls you tight into your chest. His head resting in the crook of your neck. Soon you fall into sleep.

———————————————————

Inthe morning you wake up alone and merry is sitting eating and apple. You sit up slowly yawn. Merry smiles at you.

Soon you are fully awake and ready for the day, for battle. Eomer didn’t know that though.

You were talking talking to merry outside and eowyn comes over to talk to you a pippin. You had suspected that she wanted to help fight , but knew here brother and uncle would not allow it.

“Hey y/n, did you see my brother last night, I couldn’t find him anywhere?” She asks you smiling at you.

You go to speak but merry interrupts you quickly “oh y/n was teaching me a dance move and he came by and had dinner with us. I fell asleep after. But when I awoke he was gone ,so he must of left when I was sleeping.” Merry speaks quickly to eowyn.

You gulp remembering the moments you shared with him last night.

“Oh thank you, that’s why I couldn’t fin-Did you hurt your neck y/n?” She smirks at you. Unknowingly to you eomer has littered your neck with hickeys but you didn’t have a mirror in the tent so you couldn’t of known.

Merry looks at you innocently. “How could you bruise your neck??!” He gasps shocked, he doesn’t believe it’s possible.

Before you can even reply , the man him self walks up to eowyn and hugs her. “I’ve been looking for you , you and y/n shouldn’t still be here.” Both merry and eowyn look at his neck. The silence causes you to look at they are looking at. You gasp at the sight of his neck. Eowyn smirks at the two of you.

“How did both of you bruise your necks last night? You were sitting in the tent.” Merry still unaware of the cause but then let’s out ‘oh wait....’

“So brother did you see a girl last night?”

“No what on earth are you talking about , I was training and got hit by a wooden sword.” Eomer just smirks at you and then leaves.

“What about you y/n?” She crosses her arms still smirking.

“No I am virgin.” You admit freely.

She laughs ,” I believe you but my brother will make sure that doesn’t last not for long.”

———————————————————

After the battle end up reuniting with eomer and he asks to wed you immediately. The stubble was better than you thought it would be.

[mysteli]

tension ns*w (jake x mc)

A/N: soooooo... this fic is something I was really excited about it and i think it turned out ok but ya’ll are gonna have to be the judges here. jake x mc like everything I write and it’s my rare attempt at smut so... lets hope and pray I got this right. 

Warning: smut

Words: 3653

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ES TAG: @darley1101 @american-duchess

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Masterlist

Summary: After the training, Jake and Logan express their emotions through a nice, soothing shower... with a little more steam than usual.

ENDLESS SUMMER FAN FICTION TENSION

As the training finishes up, Estela starts towards the Celestial, prepared to leave Jake and Logan on the beach alone, since she can’t be bothered listening to anymore of their flirty banter and they spent more time sharing looks than actually fighting. At least Logan learnt something and she’s turned out to be a rather decent fighter but Estela just wants to leave now.

“Alright, you two. I’m gonna go and stuff my face with food before the Vaanti kill us all.” Estela announces, before turning back and making her way up the beach. 

“Alright, Katniss.” Jake waves her off and Logan does the same before meeting eyes with each other, a moment of silence occurring and spreading a familiar tension in the air.

Everything that’s been happening has be insane since they arrived but nothing seems to have changed with Jake and Logan’s standing with each other. They’ve always had this undeniable connection than they’ve never really chosen to acknowledge but they’ve always known it’s there. They’re almost always flirting and interacting with one another. And they have this undying need to protect one another from anything and everything. It’s so painfully obvious as well that they’ve never been able to deny it. Everyone in the group seems to have noticed and it’s surprising that no one has interrogated Jake or Logan about it. 

Jake has tries his hardest to not care for Logan the way he does. The best thing he could have done is hate her. But he can’t fucking help himself when it comes to her. She’s crazy in all the best damn ways and so goddamn amazing in looks and personality. Seriously, she’s probably the sexiest woman Jake has ever encountered and the fact that she’s stood before him in a bikini right now is driving him up the wall.

As the unbearable silence continues, Jake tries to summon any sort of response in order to break the ice in the air. “...Not bad for your first dance, Princess.” He applauds her, ruffling her hair in a playful manor. 

Logan throws her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at Jake in a questioning manor. “Really? Not bad? I thought I did pretty good. Knocked you out.” She corrects, a smirk crossing her lips. 

“Ha. You barely got me on the ground, Princess.” Jake clarifies, chuckling under his breath and watching Logan roll her eyes in response.

“Oh please. I took out one of your precious abs.” Logan bites back, running a hand slowly through her platinum hair as her eyes drift over Jake’s abdomen. For a moment, Jake thought he caught her checking him out but turns out, she’s gesturing to the mark on his stomach from her tackle to him earlier. 

Jake’s eye catches the sight of Logan’s simple movement of running a hand through her locks and it affects him in ways it probably shouldn’t. His cerulean gaze is guided over her petite figure, which is hugged by her violet two-piece. Her body is soaked from the attack in the water although is hair is dryer than the rest of her. She looks so goddamn irresistible, especially as remaining drops of water drift down her pale skin and her beauty is enlightened by the powerful glow of the sun. 

To avoid his body reacting, Jake hangs his head and places both hands behind his neck, exhaling sharply. “Nah, Princess. I never break like that.” 

Logan saunters up to Jake with a rather skeptical expression fixed on her face, her ocean eyes darkening and her hips swaying rhythmically. “Oh really?” She whispers in a husky tone, pausing inches away from Jake’s face and causing him to swallow hard, struggling to handle how forward she’s being right now. Maybe it was all just waiting to happen. 

“Fuck...” Jake curses, as Logan bites down on her lower lip, moving so she can press her palms against Jake’s bare chest, running her hands up to his neck in an agonisingly slow manor.

“You look like you’re about to break right now.” Logan retorts, her smirk widening as she leans in closer to Jake, her heavy breath gazing his lower lip and Jake shudders at the sensation. 

“Lets just say it’s easier when it comes to you, darlin’.” Jake counters, twisting Logan in his arms as she tries to reach his lips, suddenly feeling the need to tease her in the same way she is doing right now. “But not easy enough.” He adds, confusing Logan at first.

In one swift motion, Jake pins Logan on the  sand that scatters the beach, taking her completely by surprise. He keeps her down by latching his hand onto her shoulders, his firm grip keeping her down no matter how much she struggles. He steals the smirk from Logan’s face and keeps it for himself, his lips curving up as he eyes Logan with complete satisfaction as his eyes when she finally surrenders. 

Furrowing her brows, Logan tries to stop herself from smiling. “Wow, Aragorn. I’m almost impressed.” She admits, the sun’s reflection glistening in her ocean eyes and Jake is captivated by it for a long moment, remaining absolutely silence. 

“Fuck...” Jake curses again, blinking back a few times to break himself out of the delirious trance. Alarmed, Logan brushes the stray strands that hide the meaning in his expression away from his face, only to be greeted by frustration playing at his eyes.

“Jake, what’s wrong?” Logan dares to ask, genuinely concerned for a moment. 

“Nothing, Princess. I’m fine...” Jake assures, quickly releasing Logan from his grasp and rising to his feet as swiftly as possible. He’s completely dazed from seeing Logan so amazingly in his sights for that long but at the same time... he’s a little too turned on right now. 

Logan gets to her feet a little after him, a look of worry fixated on her face as she attempts to figure out what’s wrong with Jake. So abruptly, he zoned out and now he’s doing what he always does, run away and pretend it never happened. With his back turned to her, Jake messes with his tousled hair to calm himself. He knows he needs to escape now before Logan realises what’s wrong with him and she will tease him about it. 

“Jake...” Logan furrows her brows, as she approaches Jake with caution, spreading her hands across his shoulders and starting to massage his muscles out of nowhere. Appreciating the feeling but also filled with confusion, Jake tilts his head and eyes Logan with bewilderment.

“What are you doing?” 

“Giving you a massage since you’re so stressed all of a sudden.” Logan explains, her soft hands working at his upper muscles and Jake tries his best to not melt into the sensation. 

“Is it really necessary?” 

“Well you haven’t stopped me so I can only assume you’re enjoying it.” Logan points out, a pointed look in her sapphire eyes and Jake seems to know exactly what she’s thinking. He barely catches sight of the smirk playing at her lips and he narrows his eyes at her suspiciously.

“Is this payback for the whole sunscreen thing?” Jake assumes, chuckling under his breath as he reminisces on Logan’s reaction of enjoyment when she asked him to apply sunscreen to her back and he followed through quite well. 

“Why would it be? I enjoyed that too.” Logan leans in to Jake’s ear as she speaks that last sentence, her voice a harsh whisper and Jake shivers at the effectiveness of her words. 

“Well, I ain’t about to apologise for making you feel good, darlin’.” Jake counters in a husky tone.

“I never asked you to.” Logan whispers back and a lightbulb suddenly goes off in her mind. An idea she can’t resist to act out. A chance to take charge that she’s sure as hell about to accept.

Just when Jake thinks things are going smoothly, Logan starts leaving featherlight kisses on the skin that she’s massaging, leaving a trail from his left shoulder all the way to the other side. Jake arches his head back a little, barely able to control himself and stop himself from letting out a low hiss. But Logan doesn’t stop. She keeps pecking at his skin, her hands being dragged up and down the skin of his back. Suddenly, she nips at the back of Jake’s neck, causing him to flinch at her action.

“Shit, Princess. I thought we were strangers.” 

“You know it’s way more than that, Aragorn.” Logan counters, tilting Jake’s head so their eyes meet and that’s when she starts circling around him, her hand grazing the skin of his arm and stomach before finally she meets him face to face, their bodies barely touching. “I know you remember.” She whispers into the air, causing Jake to shudder and a memory is suddenly painted in his mind of him and Logan sinking in the ocean, entwined in each other’s arms, lips locked and hearts beating as one. That’s the moment Jake knew he’d forgive but never forget. Since he promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen but it did and he doesn’t have the strength to deny anything anymore.

“Damnit, Princess... you really wanna talk about this now?” Jake enquires, raising an eyebrow at Logan as she leans even closer to his body, her breasts that are barely shielded by the fabric of the bikini pressed up against his chest and her eyes flooded with desire and a hunger he’s never seen. 

“I don’t really wanna talk as much as I wanna...” Logan pauses when she hears Jake’s breath hitch at her words and she looks at him under her eyelashes. Jake’s eyes darken at her suggestion, matching her level of desire and hunger as he snakes his arms around her waist and furrows his brows at her questioningly.

“What exactly do you wanna get out of this, Princess?” Jake dares to question, watching as Logan takes her bottom lip between her teeth once more.

“Just you will do.” Logan whispers, her level of breathing increasing as each tension-filled second passes. “I was about to go shower after the training...” Jake watches the corner of her mouth perk up and he soon realises what she’s getting at. “...care to join me?” 

“...What better way to spend my last night before we get killed by the descendants of Avatar.” 

It takes Logan and Jake a lot of careful dodging and sneaky movements to even make it to Logan’s suite, as the group are scattered around the hotel and they’re both not in the mood to be interrogated about their intentions or destination for where they’re going. 

Finally though, they make it to her suite and Jake immediately grasps Logan by her hips and slams her against the front door just as she manages to close it. The deafening sound echoes throughout the floorboards and Logan lets out a breathless moan as a reaction to the impact of the cold wood against her almost bare back. Dare to mention they’re still in their soaked swimsuits?

Jake smirks at the sound she made, taking it as music to his ears. It fires him up just to know that what he does to her is enough to pleasure her in some way, even just pressing her up against a door. With that, he presses his mouth to hers and this is the first real time he’s getting to enjoy the raw taste of her, without his life being on the line. He can savour every goddamn moment of this as slowly as he wants to. 

A passion builds up between them rather quickly and Logan gives in to the feeling of Jake’s lips and his touch, as he caresses her body with care. 

“We haven’t even made it to the fucking bathroom, Jake.” Logan points out, smiling against Jake’s lips as he continues to kiss her.

Jake responds by sweeping her off her feet and placing his legs under her thighs to keep her steady in his arms. Logan wraps her legs around his waist and that leaves Jake to turn them around and navigate his way towards the bathroom, his lips remaining on hers. At first, he’s blind to what he’s doing. So blind that it’s unsurprising he stumbles into a table halfway through their journey to the bathroom. 

“Agh, shit.”

“Come on, Jake.” Logan complains, expressing impatience and Jake produces a different method by attaching his lips to her collarbone instead so he can see where he’s going, while still showering her with affection. 

“This is harder than it looks, Princess.” He responds, finally making it through the bathroom door and setting Logan down on her feet. 

Immediately, Logan smirks as Jake turns his back to shut the bathroom door as firmly as possible. While he does that, Logan turns on the shower and makes sure the water is set at a more heated temperature. When he turns around, Logan steps back from him and starts working at the strings of her bikini. Jake watches with eagerness, folding his arms and his eyes darken even more when her bikini top is discarded onto the tiled floor. 

His gaze wanders over her chest and he swallows hard at the sight. “Damn... they’re bigger than I thought they’d be.” Jake blurts out, accidentally saying his thoughts aloud and he places a hand behind his head in an embarrassed manor after.

Offended and amused at the same time, Logan simply scoffs. “You saying you’ve thought about this before. Also, shut up.” 

“Well I can’t answer that question now that you’ve told me to shut up.” Jake counters, a smug smile on his face.

“Yet you’re still talking.” Logan points out and Jake immediately silences himself when he realises Logan’s bikini bottom has already be taken off as well. His eyes drift over her bare body and he gulps at the sight. “That’s better.”

As Jake removes his swim trunks, Logan saunters up to him once more and takes a moment to glance down at his fully erect member.

“Damn... it’s bigger than I thought it would be.” Logan jokes, firing Jake’s own words back at him and there’s a clearly a hint of seriousness in her tone. “Wow and a hell of a more excited to.”

“Get in the goddamn shower, Princess.” Jake tells her out of annoyance and impatience. He fucking needs her now. He can’t help himself. 

Rolling her ocean eyes but still obeying, Logan steps into the shower first with Jake following soon after. His mind boggles with so many thoughts that shouldn’t be there but seeing Logan and being in a situation like this with her, he can’t fucking help himself. Jake gently guides Logan under the water, so all the droplets soak her and drip over her fair skin, highlighting every curve and every inch. Jake watches with intrigue, snaking his arms around her waist and bringing their lips together eagerly.

A hungry passion immediately builds up, creating a steady rhythm between them. Jake has thought about these types of scenarios with Logan a lot but he never thought it would actually happen. Hell, he’s kinda surprised in himself for going for a college girl but Logan is so much fucking more than that. She’s beautiful and special and so different from anyone he’s ever met before. She’s everything he’s not and she tests him in ways he can’t deny. 

They both choose to let the kiss intensify, with Jake slipping his tongue into her mouth and Logan accepting it and responding with her own. Soon, Jake lets his lips drift down Logan’s jaw and all the way over her neck. He gently sucks on the base on her neck, leaving an obvious hickey beside her collarbone. Logan moans at the sensation, her body shuddering at Jake’s movements. She responds by grasping by the back of his neck and dragging him in for another deep kiss, her fingers caressing the skin before tangling in his soaked hair as she pulls him into the water with her. 

Jake lets out a low groan as Logan tugs on the wet strands of his hair, causing him to react by pulling her body impossibly to close to his, not wanting any space left between them. That’s when Jake lets his lips drift down her neck once again before he starts paying attention to her chest, showering her breasts with loose kisses. He wraps his mouth around one of her nipples and sucks on it until it goes hard. Logan keeps a tight grip on Jake’s hair as moans continue to leave her mouth. 

“You like that, Princess?” 

“So fucking much.”

Jake soon moves his trail down her stomach, his hands outlining her hips as he falls to his knees and turns his attention to her lower half. His cerulean gaze takes a moment to admire how wet he’s managed to make her with all the special treatment he’s been providing her with. 

“Damn, darlin’... you’re so wet.” Jake points out in a breathless tone, his fingers grazing over her wet folds and Logan shudders at the sensation that runs throughout her body.

“Don’t let it help your ego too much, Aragorn.” Logan counters, her tone shaky however from  all the attention she’s been getting and she feels her knees to weaken and that’s only bound to get worse. 

With that, Jake spreads Logan’s legs out as much as he can and starts dragging his hands over her folds and playing around with what sounds he can get out of her with everything he does with his fingers.

“Ooohh... Jake...” Logan reacts, her eyes rolling back and her mouth falling open slightly and Jake watches her expression carefully as he teases her clit with his fingers. “Agh....”

As Logan opens her eyes and glances down at Jake, he tugs his fingers into her clit and that causes her to almost scream with pleasure.

“Holy shit...” She moans as Jake uses his fingers to pump in and out of her as frequently as possible. “Ugh... Jake Mckenzie...”

Her mind boggles from all the feeling and emotions she’s experiencing and she can’t hold back any noises that threaten to leave her. She just needs to get them out and show Jake just how much she wants him. More than fucking anything. 

“I... I... Jake... I’m gonna...” Logan starts stuttering as she feels her sweet release about to escape and realising that, Jake pulls his fingers out and smirks at her when their eyes meet. “Wow Jake...”

“Patience, Princess.” Jake points out, rising to his feet and gripping onto Logan’s bare hips and bringing their lips together again, roughly tugging on her bottom lip and that’s when Logan takes this as an opportunity to take charge.

She slides her hand down Jake’s stomach and he lets out a harsh hiss into her mouth when her fingers find him. Logan blindly starts stroking him, keeping a firm grip on his bottom lip as she does. Jake maintains eye contact with her and spots the seduction dancing around her ocean eyes. She releases his lower lip and brushes her hand over the tip of his cock, making Jake let out a low groan that he can’t hold back.

“Fucking hell, darlin’...” 

“Uhuh...” 

Jake quickly gains back control, catching Logan’s hand and throwing it over his shoulder, before doing the same with the other one. He steadies his hands on her hips and smirks as her eyes widen with confusion.

“Jake, what the fuck are you— Oh shit...” Logan reacts as Jake lifts her up and grabs hold of her thighs, maintaining eye contact with her as he slams her into the tiled wall of the shower. Both of them are soaked and begging for each other. Nows the time to provide as much satisfaction as possible. 

Jake teases Logan’s clit with his cock for a moment, stifling yet another pleasured moan out of her but she pushes her hips forward as her need starts to take over. With that, Jake lunges into her and that’s when she melts into the sensation. She cries out Jake’s name so satisfyingly to his ears and she starts biting down on his shoulder in order to contain her ears. Who knows when someone could walk by and get a little too curious and somehow end up scarred?

“Agh... Jake...” 

“Fuck... Logan...”

Jake pumps into her even harder each time he does it, stifling an even bigger cry out of her every time. Jake crashes their lips together so he can somehow swallow some of her cries, biting down on her lower lip to stop himself from making noises too.

They fit so well together, rocking against each other at a satisfying rhythm. It’s breathless. Amazing. Unreal. Unimaginable. Logan never expected to feel this way about anyone and she especially never expected to meet anyone who could make her feel this good.

As the rhythm builds up and continues, Jake and Logan both find themselves heading for release. They’re both on the edge and ready to let go. 

“Shit.”

“Jake... I’m gonna... ah!”

Soon enough... they both surrender to each other.

BONUS: 

Jake and Logan wrap up in towels, the shower finally being over and they’re completely satisfied and slick with sweat, even though they’d just experienced a shower.

“Hold on... I... just realised something.” Logan points out when a revelation washes over her and Jake eyes her with expectancy. 

“What, Princess?”

“You’re not gonna like this but... my bathroom is right next to Diego’s suite. 

Jake facepalms hard at that. “Agh, shit.”

That’s when a voice echoes and erupts through the thin walls. “WOOHOO! I knew it! I knew you guys were together! I knew it! It’s disgusting but I knew it! I win! Sean owes me twenty bucks!” Diego exclaims, way too excited about something like this. 

“Well... we’re fucked.” 

[thatfairyfangirl]

Written In The Stars Chapter 7

“You loved him didn’t you.” Legolas asked as they rush over the land tracking the taken hobbits. Days had passed so swiftly as they tracked the Orcs over the land.

She shook her head lightly. “I thought I did once. Perhaps if our paths ran together just a bit more… No, another has my heart.” She answered with a defeated sigh, slowly accepting the vision she had and the growing bond she was sharing with her elvin friend. “But the loss of him is great. He was a great friend to my caravan. He will be mourned for long to come.”

Legolas in thought turned his gaze to the dawn a frown forming on his lips. “A red sun rises...blood was spilled this night.” Their pace quickened as worry for Merry and Pippen grew.

Steluta felt the ground rumbling with heavy hooves long before they were seen by even the elf. “Riders are approaching.” She warned Aragorn as he lead the tracking. He turned to her with a nod before signalling for them to take refuge in a nearby rock formation.

They watched the horsemen ride past before he emerged. “Riders of Rohan!” He called out as he stood. Steluta looked to Gimli and Legolas with worry, the Rohirrim never seemed very welcoming to her people before they emerged behind him. “What news from the mark?” They watched as their leader rose his banner turning them to face the four, surrounding them quickly.

As spears lowered to threaten them Aragorn and Steluta's hands rose showing to the riders they mean no threat. “What business does a Dwarf an Elf a Man and a road woman have in Rohan?” Their leader asked as he road forward. “Speak quickly!”

“Give me your name horse master and I'll give you mine.” Gimli answered as the rest of the group rolled their eyes knowing this to not have been the right words.

He looked down to the insolent dwarf as he dismounted and stepped forward. “I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little farther from the ground.”

Quick as a blink Steluta had knife in hand and Legolas had arrow drawn. “You would for before your stroke fell!” Legolas warned sternly before Aragorn forced the two to lower their weapons and turned to introduce the four of them.

“I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realm and Steluta of the Road. We are friends of Rogan, and of Theoden your king.

“Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe.” He paused as he removed his helmet. “Not even his own kin.” The spears rose, no longer threatening. “Saruman has poisoned his mind and taken lordship over this land. My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that we are banished. The white wizard is cunning and his spies everywhere slip past our nets.”

“We are no spies. We track a band of Uruk-hai westward, they have taken two of our friends captive.” Aragorn explained.

“The Uruks are no more. We slaughtered them in the night.” As Eomer's words fell on Steluta's ears her hand came to her lips with fear for her small friends.

“But there were two hobbits! Did you see two hobbits with them?” Gimli asked with a rush of worry and a twinge of hope.

“They would be small, only children to your eyes.” Aragorn added as He looked to the horse lord.

He shook his head lightly. “We left none alive.” The words were like a swift punch to the princess's gut as he gestured to a pillar of smoke. “We piled the carcases and burned them.” Legolas reached for her, holding each other in silent comfort as the weight of the news bore down on them.

“Then another lament I must sing.” Steluta grieved as she looked on the burning bodies. “So much death this journey has brought us.”

“May these horses bring you better fortune than their former masters.” He added comfortingly as he watched the dread in the four faces grow. “Search for your friends...but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands.”

They rode the horses hard and fast keeping little hope but just enough to drive them forward, bearly giving the beasts time to stop before sliding from them. Hastily Gimli and Steluta used their weapons to dig through the smoulder, the dwarf soon taking pause to pluck a piece of metal from the ash. “A piece of their belts.” He sighed in dismay.

Aragorn in frustration anger and grief kicked an empty helmet, falling to his knees as he screamed out in anguish. As he lowered his head he found he landed by their sleeping spots. “A hobbit lay here,” he caressed the ground, “and another” and again just next to it. As he examined the indents in the ground a small spark of light returned to his eyes. “They crawled,” he followed the path, “their hands were bound” he stood as the three others followed him in the tracking. “Their bonds were cut.” Hope gre in him and the others with each word. “The tracks lead away from the battle!” They hung into his every word as he followed the footsteps no other seemed able to find. “Into Fangorn Forest.”

“What madness would have driven them there?” Gimli wondered as he looked up to the trees.

“At least they live… How bad can a forest really be?” She asked unknowing.

“Your people never wandered in there did they?” Legolas asked as he looked up to the ominous branches.

“Of course they have!” As she followed her elf's gaze up she slowly began to fill with a different dread. “of course...that was long before I was born…”

“And how long ago was that?” The elf wondered aloud.

“Some thousand years or so...honestly I lost track…” Legolas's eyes widened at her words. He never realized her people were as immortal as his.

~ ~ ~ ~

Steluta’s eyes wandered around the trees with caution. “Something doesn't feel right about this place.” Steluta warned with a wobbling voice as she tread lightly over the foliage and earth.

“This forest is old… Very old.” Legolas explained, “full of memory...”

“It's as if the trees themselves are speaking. Not happily. They don't like our being here.” She continued as she tried to delve her sight into what is to come, feeling a deep sense of dread being there.

Legolas nodded, confirming her thoughts “They have feelings Ninmirel. It was the elves that began it...the waking of The trees, teaching them to speak.”

“What would a tree have to speak about?” Gimli grumbled.

“What are they saying?” Steluta asked with wide eyes watching the elf with wonder.

“The white wizard approaches.” He answered giving the small group time to ready themselves.

The light behind the old wizard glowed brightly shielding his face from them as arrow dagger and axe flew, bursting into shards of nothing before the light waned and eyes softened as Gandalf looked down to them.

“Gandalf!” Steluta cried out joyously as she rushed to throw her arms around the old wizard.

“But you fell…” Aragorn asked confused. Gandalf related the story of the battle and that now he was known as Gandalf the white.

“It was more than chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here.” Gandalf turned to Steluta. “The same power that keeps even your people away. Their coming will be like small stones that starts an avalanche. The hobbits are quite safe.” He gestured them to follow. “In fact they are much safer than you are about to be. Our presence is needed in Rohan.” He continued as he lead them through the trees to the forest's edge where they were met by Shadowfax, and their steeds gifted to them by the riders not so long ago.

[theemightypen]

Lothiriel and Elmer 20

Don’t know who that Elmer dude is, but Eomer plays a starring role here ;)

20) “I can’t stand my own reflection.”

“I can’t stand my own reflection.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” replies Eowyn.

“I don’t know,” Aragorn says, grinning from where he’s sprawled bonelessly across Eomer’s couch, “mullets did go the way of the dodo back when I was in elementary school–”

Eomer shoots a decidedly impolite gesture in his friend’s direction before giving his hair–his horribly, horribly, abused hair–a desperate tug, as if doing so can make it grow back to its normal length. “Remind me to punch Amrothos. Again.”

Apparently, Faramir’s cousin’s idea of a good time includes making the brother-of-the-bride look like an 80’s hair band member.

Eomer’s idea of a good time had been showing Amrothos how little he liked his new haircut with a fist to his face.

The younger man remains unashamedly amused. 

Eomer’s hair remains cut. 

A lose-lose situation.

“I’ll have to ask you to refrain from giving one of my groomsman two black eyes before the wedding,” Faramir says drolly, as if this isn’t entirely his fault. “One we can excuse on clumsiness, but two begins to look like assault.”

“Good,” Eomer says, “because it would be.”

Eowyn rolls her eyes, coming to stand in front of him with a hair tie in her outstretched palm. “Luckily for you, I know someone who can fix this.”

“Who? Harry Potter?”

His sister wrinkles her nose at him as his traitorous friends chuckle in the background. “No. Someone decidedly more real than Harry Potter. And substantially better looking, I might add.”

Eomer begins to suspect the solution may be worse than the problem at hand. “Again: who?”

The shop Eowyn drags him to is absurdly cheerful, in various shades of blue and vases of fresh flowers scattered everywhere. It only serves to increase the dull throbbing at his temples–she still hasn’t said who the mystery miracle worker is, but Aragorn’s smirk and Faramir’s parting wink were. Worrying. Very worrying.

Eowyn taps on the silver bell on the front test three times in quick succession.

There’s the muffled sound of cursing from the back of the store before the curtain–also blue, also dotted with flowers–is pushed aside, revealing–

Oh, Bema.

He’s going to murder his sister.

“Eowyn!” Lothiriel cries, her typical megawatt smile making her pretty face even more so. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“I rather agree,” Eowyn says, shooting a sly look in Eomer’s direction–oh, he really is going to murder her, the meddling harpy–before she steps forward to give the younger woman a hug. “Are you busy?”

Lothiriel snorts, gesturing at the empty shop. “Not hardly. Saturday mornings are strangely slow–”

Her voice trails off as she looks at him. Eomer can feel the sharp, sudden rise of a blush in his face as she gawks at his hair.

“Erm,” she says. “Nice…haircut, Eomer?”

“No,” he says, embarrassment making his voice pinched, “it isn’t.”

“Amrothos may have gone a bit far,” Eowyn explains.

Lothiriel groans. “He needs a shock collar. Or a good thrashing.”

“Eomer has provided one of those already,” chirps Eowyn.

“I assume the thrashing, shock collars are terribly difficult to acquire on short notice,” Lothiriel quips.

Despite it all, he can’t help but snort a laugh. Lothiriel grins up at him, clearly having gotten the reaction she wanted.

“Come on then, Van Halen,” she says, crooking a finger at him. “Let’s see what I can do with this mess.”

Eomer’s had plenty of haircuts in the past–not including the one that took place during the wee hours of the morning the night before, thank you very much, Amrothos–but they’ve never been so. So.

Uncomfortable.

Not uncomfortable in the sense that Lothiriel doesn’t know what she’s doing; it’s obvious that this is her profession, from the ease at which she settles his absurdly long frame in the chair, the gentle scratch of her fingernails over his scalp–

Well. No. That’s partially why it’s so uncomfortable.

Getting a haircut from an attractive woman is not a new experience for him, but getting a haircut from an attractive woman on whom he’s been harboring an apparently not-so-secret crush? Definitely new.

And definitely uncomfortable–she’s just so close, the sweet floral smell of her perfume heady and enthralling, the press of her fingers damn near intoxicating–

“–mer?” Lothiriel repeats, startling him out of his daze.

“Hm?” He grunts, not trusting himself to form words.  

“I’m sorry Amrothos did this,” she says. “It really is a shame. Your hair looked so good long.”

Eomer swallows. Reminds himself that she does hair for a living, that it’s likely a compliment on how healthy it is, and has nothing to do with whether or not she thinks he looks good or not.

“S’alright,” he mutters, keeping his eyes closed. “Shorter hair for me, a black eye for him. Seems like a fair trade.”

Lothiriel huffs a laugh. “Men.”

He has to open his eyes when she tells him to move to another chair–Eowyn is suspiciously absent, but Lothiriel merely smiles up at him again, leading him over to her station. His reflection in the mirror is a little better than it had been this morning–freshly washed, his hair’s mullet-fied state is not as apparent.

“Now,” she says, coming to stand behind him, “you’ve had long hair for as long as I’ve known you. So I’m betting you know next to nothing about any other sort of style.”

“You’d be correct,” he agrees.

He can see her eyes crinkle in the mirror. “Hm. Do you trust me?”

It’s a simple question, but it makes his heart give a lurch all the same. “Yes,” he says, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

Lothiriel keeps a steady stream of chatter while she works at his hair. It’s equal parts soothing and distracting–soothing, because she likely knows how close he is to panic with every long strand of hair he sees floating to the floor–and distracting, because it’s Lothiriel. 

Eomer can’t remember a time when she hasn’t been distracting.

“…and then Pippin did some sort of flip–honestly, how he hasn’t killed himself yet remains a mystery–and Merry caught him, all the while singing about the Green Dragon–”

He’s grinning full on, both at the mental picture she’s painting, and at the animated facial expressions she’s making, reflected in the mirror.

Lothiriel’s eyes meet his when he laughs and her face flushes crimson. “I forget the mirror is there, sometimes,” she admits, something like shame in her voice. “Sorry, I know I tend to get carried away in a story–”

Frowning, Eomer reaches back to catch her scissor-less hand in his. ���Don’t apologize for being you, Lothiriel.”

She blinks, eyes wide and beautiful and surprised, in the bright lights of the shop–Bema, does he have it bad–

“Well,” she says, in a softer tone, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, “if you insist.”

“And, viola!” She declares, maybe twenty minutes later. “You are officially mullet-free.”

“Thank Bema for that,” he says, waiting for her to spin the chair back to face the mirror. She’d turned him away from it for the last few trims, insisting on him not seeing the finished work until it was truly ready.

Lothiriel smiles, giving the chair a substantial push, and–

Bema, Eomer thinks, that can’t be me.

His hair is short, shorter than it’s ever been since childhood, cropped close to his head on the sides, and styled artfully–he’s never going to be able to replicate this on his own–at the front. He looks–well. Not too terribly different from that Hemsworth bloke in the latest Thor movie.

“I always thought your long hair suited you,” Lothiriel murmurs, “but this is, um, good, too.” She’s blushing as she says it, and blushes deeper when he reaches up to rub a hand over it. “Do you like it? I–there’s not much I can do, lengthwise, but I can re-do this bit–”

His hand closing over hers stops her short. “Lothiriel. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, eyes meeting his in the mirror again. “And it’s on me, since Amrothos was responsible for the 80’s themed monstrosity to begin with.”

“No,” he says–Bema, he’s still holding her hand, but he can’t bring himself to let it go, not when she’s still standing so close behind him, flushed and beautiful– “that’s not necessary, Lothiriel, really–”

“It is,” she insists, her stubbornness apparent in the furrow between her brows, “I am not letting you pay a single dime for this, Eomer–”

“Let me buy you lunch, then,” he interrupts, the words coming out of his mouth before he can think better of them. Likely spurred on by the fact that she hasn’t moved her hand either, and that her free hand has drifted up to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh,” Lothiriel breathes, her cheeks darkening again. “That, um. That could work.”

Eomer grins, standing abruptly and tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Is now alright with you?”

Her smile is. Bright. Beautiful. All Lothiriel. “I think I can pencil you in.”

(“I never would have cut his hair if I knew this is what would come of it!” Amrothos wails, some months later.

“Serves you right,” Eowyn says, smug as she leans back into Faramir’s open arm. “I, for one, can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m sure Eomer and Lothiriel feel the same,” Faramir drawls, grinning.

The couple in question remains oblivious to their audience, too busy kissing across the pool table to hear them.

Van Halen’s Why Can’t This Be Love comes wailing out of the jukebox, manned by a grinning Aragorn.

He receives a less-than-polite hand gesture from Eomer from behind Lothiriel’s back.)

[ssimagines]

An Unusual Member || Legolas Greenleaf

Pairing: Legolas Greenleaf x female!Reader

Word Count: 2528

Summary: You are in attendance for the council of Elrond.

Warnings: Fluff, mystic undefined relationship.

Note: Maybe this will have a part 2

Masterlist

There was something completely foreign about a woman sitting with the men at the Council of Elrond. Hell, it was usual to see women sitting with men at all. Very few races actually saw men and women as equals. The whole situation made many of the members of council uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop you from sitting there doing your best to stay focused. You were appointed by your small kingdom to attend the council for the ring, because you were the best warrior and leader in your kingdom.

As Elrond spoke you could feel the eyes of men on you. The appointed attendant from Gondor’s stare was especially uncomfortable.

Legolas, one of your closest friends sat beside you. You could see that he and Aragorn, who stood beside you in many battles, were communicating in a way you learned that only they could truly understand.

You continued to look at the faces of all the males around you. You rested on the small hobbit and gave him a kind smile when he spared a glance at you. You heard that the hobbit along with his friends were brought here by Aragorn. Arwen had said that he was very ill at the time because he had been stabbed by a Nazgûl. You had to admit, for such a small race, hobbits were sure resilient.

The Gondor man’s attention still ran over your frame causing you to shift slightly in your seat. Luckily, his attention was snapped away from you when Elrond asked the hobbit, Frodo, to bring the Ring to the pedestal.

The hobbit walked slowly, but with great burden as he set it down in the center for all the eyes of the council to gaze upon. As you looked upon the ring, frustration welled in you. There was no reason for such a simple piece of metal to hook all these people under its spell. It was an ordinary ring infused with power, and that was the fault of men. Their desire for power was always their downfall.

Murmurs escaped the mouths of many in the council.  You watched the hobbit return to his seat. His shoulders relaxed, and his face calmed as he settled in. His job was done. He would no longer have to carry such a heavy burden. Around you the members of the council all gazed upon the ring. Some as if it was sent from the heavens, others with distain, and many just curious.

The Gondor appointed member stood and approached the ring mumbling about a dream. The sky grew dark as he almost touched it when both Gandalf and Elrond yelled at him to stop. They spoke his name, Boromir. You repeated it in your head to remember who this troubled man was.

Gandalf stood reciting something that you didn’t understand as Sauron spoke through his ring. Sauron’s voice rung out. You winced at the pain that filled your chest as Sauron’s words continued. Looking around, you could see that you were not the only one feeling this way.

Boromir takes his seat as the sky returns to its bright color. Looking to Elrond, he speaks again.

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

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil,” Gandalf says gruffly. You look to the gray wizard who nods towards you.

A few months back a similar situation took place in your kingdom during a celebration. Gandalf had explained to you want was going on and you had left home to come to Rivendell to offer your help. That’s why you were here today.

“It is a gift!” Boromir protested standing up. “A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring?” ­- He started pacing the floor- “Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!”

You had to stifle your laugh at Boromir’s self-righteous preaching. The time was not fit for this reaction, but your laugh was one of pity for Boromir’s ignorance. He spoke of this curse as if it was some majestic answer. Aragorn could no longer hold his tongue.

“You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master,” Aragorn said. A faint smile rested on your lips as you looked at the man with a sense of pride for the ranger.

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?” Boromir said. Your jaw clenched at his uniformed statement. The pure stupidity of Gondor’s people about their king was astonishing. Beside you, Legolas stood up from his seat in anger.

“This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance,” Legolas spat at the ma. You reached out to Legolas and gently laid your hand on his forearm. You had spent a significant amount of time with Legolas over your years. You found that a simple touch from you would help calm his nerves at times.

“Aragorn?” Boromir said. His eyes roamed over Aragorn in astonishment. “This… is Isildur’s heir”

Aragorn straightened himself and held his head high. He was the rightful king and he showed it through his every action.

“And heir to the throne of Gondor,” Legolas added. You squeezed his arm just a little bit. And he took a step back closer to you.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Frodo, who sat beside next to Gandalf, look to Aragorn with wide-eyes.

“Havo dad, Legolas,” Aragorn waved his hand dismissively (translation: sit down Legolas). Boromir looked to Legolas before speaking

“Gondor has no king,” He spoke trying to gather his pride. With a heavy breath, Legolas returned to his seat beside you. You ran your hand down his arm into his hand. He laced his finger into yours as he struggled to contain his anger.

“Gondor needs no King,” Boromir looked to Aragorn this time This man’s arrogance brought anger to you, but you punched it aside. Now was not the time. Taking a deep breath, you stood.

“Aragorn speak truth,” you said silencing all the men. “The Ring answers to only one master. No other can yield it. Your need for power blinds you, Boromir, son of Denethor II. We cannot use it.”

“What would you know of this?” Boromir said standing again. “You are but a woman who knowns not of the wars of men.”

“You know not of what you speak,” Legolas said attempting to rise. Again, you lay a hand on his arm. He looks to you searching your eyes, but remaining seated.

“I am a woman, but that doesn’t not make me naïve to the ways of war,” you speak louder with more confidence. “I am Y/N, daughter of Heranah, chief warrior and next in line for the crown to the kingdom of Nuverah, a small kingdom of elves bordering Lindon. I fought amongst men in many battles and plan to fight for many more. My fate is just as much tied to this land as yours and I here whether you like that or not. Now be seated while the discussion of the rings destruction takes place.”

With your words the rest of the council was quieted. Boromir sat wordlessly down. You also took your seat. Legolas’s hand found yours intertwining your finger silently. Neither you nor him looked to the other as Elrond continued.

“You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed,” Elrond said. All eyes feel upon the ring where it sat untouched.

“What are we waiting for?” said a dwarf. He took his large axe and approached the pedestal yelling. He brought the blade to the ring only for the blade to shatter with a loud clang.

You move to shield your face as a shard of the axe comes flying towards you. You feel Legolas’s free hand come to your cheek in before moving away as quickly as it came. You opened your eyes to see that many shards of the axe lay around the ring. The dwarf had fallen to the ground breathing heavily and Legolas’s hand was now bleeding just a little, but you could do nothing for it.

“Diola lle,” you speak softly into the elf’s ear (translation: thank you).

“Lle creoso, Melamin,” he said just as quietly (translation: you’re welcome, my love). You both returned your attention to the Ring.

You saw that Frodo was in some sort of pain as his face contorted and he grabbed his head. Gandalf turned to Frodo, but could do nothing as more words came from the Ring.

Dwarves came to the aid of the one who was now lying on the ground.

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

You scanned the faces on all the people surrounding you. Everyone was quiet.

“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Boromir said. Everyone listened worriedly. “Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful.” -Frodo looked terrified as he spoke- “It is a barren wasteland. Riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!”

Legolas startles you as he jumps to his feet.

“Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!” the anger he held for Boromir leaked into his words.

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?!” Gimli said. Aragorn rolled his eyes and you clenched your fist.

“And if we fail, what then?! What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?!” Boromir said. He was very pointed with his words.

“I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!” Gimli roared getting to his feet.

This time many elves got to their feet yelling. You stood and tried to help Legolas hold them back. It wasn’t long before everyone was on their feet yelling at others from a different race. You stayed silent as you stood in the way of an elf and a dwarf.  Gandalf got up as well and his voice was added to the mix.

You looked over to Frodo to see how the hobbit was doing. He was staring at the ring in trance. Frodo’s breath was labored and he tensed up. You slowly tried to push through the crowd to reach him, but everyone was pushing back. You saw the Hobbit get to his feet.

“I will take it,” the hobbit said. “I will take it.”

No one else heard that you could tell because the chaos persisted, but you stopped in your path to him. Gandalf closed his eyes. He looked disappointed. You could tell that Gandalf cared for the Hobbit as he turned to look at Frodo.

“I will take the ring to Mordor,” Frodo said. Everyone fell silent and looked at the Hobbit in shock. Aragorn had a sense of respect cross his face. “Though… I do not know the way.”

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear,” Gandalf stood beside Frodo and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will,” Aragorn said standing and walking towards the hobbit.

“I too will carry as long as you will have me,” you said stepping forward. You offered a smile to the hobbit which he returned with a nod. You came to stand beside Frodo offering a smile to Gandalf.

“You have my sword,” said Aragorn getting on his knee to be at eye level with Frodo.

Gandalf looked to Elrond and nodded. Elrond looked impressed as the scene unfolded in front of him. Legolas looked to you before speaking up as well.

“And you have my bow,” Legolas says coming to stand beside you. You captured his hand in yours and gave it a small squeeze.

“And my axe,” Gimli said proudly.

Legolas’s shoulder’s fell at Gimli’s words. Gimli returned the look, but stayed in his spot beside Legolas.

“You carry the fates of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done,” Boromir approached the group slowly which you were disappointed about. You looked at the men around you, but saw a small movement in the bushes. A small sound rose up as another hobbit made his way over.

“Mr. Frodo is not goin’ anywhere without me!” the second hobbit said. He came to stand next Frodo holding his head up high.

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

Suddenly two more Hobbits come running over. You look to Legolas and offer an assumed look gesturing to the hobbits. Legolas let out a small laugh and nodded.

“Wait! We are coming too!” The two hobbits said.

“You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!” one said.

A smile stretched across your face as they came to stand in front of you. Elrond seemed shocked that more Hobbits were still coming. He also seemed a tad worried as his eyebrows creased deeply. Legolas squeezed you hand bring your attention to him. You smiled at him and he returned the smile again. The two new hobbits had their arms crossed over their chests and were glaring at Elrond as if they were challenging him to tell them they couldn’t go.

“Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest… thing,” the other said. You laughed a little.  Gandalf looked like he was embarrassed about bring these hobbits there. You wanted to laugh at the face that he was making.

“Well that rules you out Pip,” The first said. He looked really annoyed with his comrade as if his statement had lessened their cause. You placed your hand on “pip’s” shoulder and squeezed it. He looked up at you with a smile.

“Ten companions… So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!” Elrond spoke loudly booming over the crowd. He seemed so proud of the name he had come up with. The latter two hobbits looked at each other joyously.

“Great! Where are we going?” said “pip.” Everyone turned to him and their faces fell. Frodo looked like he was going to laugh at his companion. You just shook your head.

You were going to enjoy with trip.