#but he thinks of him as aragorn now

[rohirric-hunter]

Angstober Day 01: Again

I wrote this on the first but decided to leave it to the weekend to edit. And then I had to shove a ton of context into it so it would make sense to people who aren't in a specific discord. Split down the middle because here's some more context in the author's note:

My first concept of LotRO fanfic came to me as I was exploring Angmar, and it was something something dealing with the remnants of Angmar post-war. Mostly just a loose idea, but one that stuck with me and slowly developed as my OCs developed. When LotRO released a quest pack dealing with that very thing, I was pleased to discover that it wanted very little adjusting to fit in with my own ideas. Basically, those adjustments are: the events of the Return to Carn Dum questpack take place over the course of several years, rather than the couple of weeks that it seems to take in canon, and without the intervention of any Player Characters. (The PC only got involved because of LotRO's improbable mail system anyway. Skyrim Courier eat your heart out.) As a result, certain things turn out differently, some worse and some better, and no one outside of Angmar really gets involved until around S.R 1425. This oneshot takes place early in the inevitable conflict. The remnants of the Angmarim garrison at the Ironspan aren't really representative of Ásachal and the other Angmarim still holding on to Carn Dûm, but they are empowered by knowing that Carn Dûm is still in Angmarim hands.

Warning for non-explicit mentions of torture.

~*~*~*~

Not again, you think.

You know very little of what happened to Lothrandir during his imprisonment in Isengard. If Léonys is recalcitrant about her time there, Lothrandir speaks of it both more and less. He mentions it often, but carefully skirts around any actual detail, a habit, you think, that tells a clearer tale than he would like.

Not that the little band of Angmarim remnants who inhabit the tower along the Forodwaith road a few leagues east of the Ironspan could hope to compare to a Wizard. Still, Lothrandir looks eerily similar to how he had in the flooded depths of Isengard, head bowed in exhaustion or pain, knees pulled to his chest, skin covered in bruises and lacerations. The little cave, or more accurately the crevice, that your rescue party had found and made camp in between two great sheets of stratified stone is warmer and homier and definitely safer than the caverns beneath Saruman's tower, but it feels all too similar, seeing him in drafty, damp half-light.

He looks up at your approach, and despite everything offers a thin smile — much as he had for Léonys when she had at last wrested the door open and run to his side, so many years ago. "Hathellang," he says. "I thought you told me you hated it this far north."

Aragorn steps past you and kneels beside Lothrandir, opposite Radanir, who holds Lothrandir's left hand with a grip that speaks of no intention to release any time soon. You can hardly wonder at that, for of your little group only Radanir had ventured into the tower through the gap in their defenses you had found in their primitive and ill-kept sewers and seen Lothrandir in his prison. Perhaps you might have been better suited to the job, for you are more skilled than Radanir at getting into places where you are not wanted and staying hidden, but after having witnessed Lothrandir captured on what should have been a routine patrol of the westernmost side of the Ironspan he would not be kept away from his kinsman for anything. And you had been of more service of a distraction, anyhow, for the scattered remnants of Angmar have not soon forgotten the names and faces of those who were most instrumental in bringing it down. In any event, what you can see of Lothrandir is bad enough, his clothes more tattered than they ought to be after little more than a week, and the worst of it likely hidden by the cloak wrapped about him. You hardly dare to think what Radanir saw. You have been in enough Angmarim dungeons to guess at it.

"Yes, well," you say. "Maybe there's a reason for that. It's always something up here."

You had planned on stuidously avoiding the topic of Isengard, but Lothrandir saves you the trouble by bringing it up himself. "Oh, come now," he says. "It's not so bad. They haven't even got a wizard here, and only one troll."

"No trolls, now," you say. Your gaze falls to the shackles around Lothrandir's ankles, and without thinking you kneel before him, hand fumbling in your pocket for your toolkit. "May I?" you ask, and Lothrandir hesitates the barest moment before nodding.

Like most Angmarim locks, it is not difficult to pick and requires no finesse. This one uses four pins instead of the usual three, but your biggest difficulty is in keeping yourself from disturbing the surrounding bruises and cuts on his legs and bare feet. But you are not unpracticed at this, and pin the shackle tightly between your right knee and the end of your right arm, pin the tension pick against the back of your elbow, and then with your left hand insert a serrated jiggling tool. It is only a few moments of jiggling before the lock pops open and one of Lothrandir's legs is freed.

As he stretches it out, Lothrandir speaks to you again. "I am glad you came," he says quietly. "You traveled far to help me."

You look up from where you are positioning yourself for the second shackle. Really, it would be easier if you would just use your right hand to pick it, but that would require getting into your bag and finding the tool you had made yourself for such purposes, attaching it to your arm, and then putting it away when you are done. It's not worth it, not for this lock.

Lothrandir is not looking at you. His head is turned downwards, as Aragorn runs his hands along Lothrandir's scalp, searching for head injuries, you assume. His face is obscured by hair pushed forward. You put your tools down and reach out, taking hos free hand in yours and offering an affectionate squeeze. "And I'll do it again," you say.

[starboymp3]

i think so much abt the fact that celeborn was one of the last elves who left middle-earth... like we don't even know when it was that he left

and i also think that it was probably him who lived on middle-earth for the longest period of time (out of the elves). i mean yeah galadriel was probably older than him for example and maybe even círdan too, but none of them lived longer on this side of the sea than him. celeborn was already living in doriath in starlit beleriand when the noldor lived still in valinor, and he also stayed longer after the war of the ring, after galadriel and círdan and elrond left. like, idk. how much you have to love a place to stay there even after the most of your kind and the love of your life all left... etc

[clickityweasel]

made and destroyed a friendship at work today

[torchwood-99]

Ok, been sitting on this for a while, been trying to talk myself out of it, but here goes.

The book doesn't sell me on the love Theoden had for Eowyn.

I tried to read it and find something in his actions towards her that tell me he has proper regard, proper respect for her, that gives any weight or meaning to his love for her, but I can't find anything. He dismisses her before the entire court, doesn't consider her an heir or a proper part of his house, and has to have her virtues called out to him by other people, when she has been serving him for years.

Return Of The King sees him spout platitudes and declare her "dearer than daughter", but none of this is backed up by his general actions to her.

He loves Eowyn, fine. But he doesn't love her the way he loves Eomer, or probably loved Theodred. He doesn't love her as a fully realised being. Nor as someone to take pride in and carry on his legacy. He loves her a crutch, a tool, and something between pet and person.

He has affection for Eowyn, but his love feels more like a trivial thing, than something with any real worth or regard to it.

[tragedykery]

it’s sooo fucked up that boromir’s last words were “I’ve failed.” literally sooososo fucked up

[heartstout]

The campfire popped and crackled, embers and smoke swirling into the vastness of midnight.

A hushed, dulcet baritone accompanied the symphony of crickets and the wind whispering through the trees.

“Et Eärello

Endorenna utúlien

Sinomë maruvan

Ar Hildinyar

Tenn' Ambar-metta...”

Noticing @vicit-vim-virtus stirring, Nenya still in his grasp, the stranger by the Elvish garrison’s fireside raised a hand to remove his hood. Striking yet somehow familiar features, framed by dark curls, were illuminated by ethereal moonlight. The Ranger studied Elrond’s features with keen, yet tender, blue-grey eyes.

“Would that you were ever so,” the Man murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Rest. Morning and its troubles will come soon enough.”

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Your least favourite ruler/leader from the tolkien lore? 👀

lolol I'm unpopular in my opinion on this one, but my least favourite leader would be Faramir. He is, coincidentally, my least favourite character in the trilogy.

I love everyone else, even Denethor, but Faramir? Not a fan, personally. I think it's really down to his speech/conversation with Frodo about the Races of Men that rubbed me wrong and I've never been able to unruffle those feathers. I suspect I would have an easier time of it if Fandom wasn't just here to regularly suck Faramir's dick with minimal critical thought but you know, so it goes with fandom /shrug

(obviously there are people who like faramir and who are like, "Yeah his Hot Takes on the Race of Men are Fucked but I still like him as a character," and those people are great. Shout to those people.)

I will say, I do like the complicated relationship that is portrayed between Faramir and Boromir and I wish that got more airtime. Because Boromir unequivocally loved Faramir, no bad word could be said etc. But Faramir was obviously a lot more luke-warm/had complicated feelings about his brother. And that felt very real and normal between siblings--especially those dealing with a father like Denethor.

(An aside: all the sibling dynamics in the trilogy are great - and they're all complicated and weird and a bit messed up and I wish fandom was ok with being like: none of these people are their sibling's best friend. Eomer doesn't know diddly squat about his sister because he was absent all the time. Faramir had some Views and Hot Takes about his brother where it's clear the unconditional love was a one way street of Boromir to Faramir and not the other way around. And all of that is ok! It's, in fact, better than their relationships being perfect! anyway.)

thank you for the ask!! <3 <3 <3

addenda:

I also just kind of find him boring? And I don't believe his relationship with Eowyn is earned, so far as the text goes. It's forced and certainly one of the weaker aspects of ROTK.

[thetiredprometheus]

lotr but nobody knows anything about the other races

Pippin thinks Legolas is a woman

Boromir is convinced that the hobbits are all 15 max

Everyone thinks that Merry and Pippin are twins, except for Legolas, who is convinced the hobbits are quadruplets

Sam thinks that Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas don't have to eat to survive

Legolas doesn't mention things he sees or hears because he thinks the others have noticed them too and just assumes they have a plan

Pippin complains that he is hungry and Legolas just gives him a handful of grass. Pippin is so confused that he just takes it, and now Legolas tries to figure out what hobbits can eat by just giving them random shit, like

Things the hobbits have accepted and likely eaten later (a list by legolas)

-Grass - Leaves

-Stones - a hair tie

-A feather - one of Gimli's shoes

The hobbits and Gimli just assume that this is what elves eat

[filmgifs]

His doubt will be growing, even as we speak here. His Eye is now straining towards us, blind almost to all else that is moving. So we must keep it. Therein lies all our hope. This, then, is my counsel. We have not the Ring. In wisdom or great folly it has been sent away to be destroyed, lest it destroy us. Without it we cannot by force defeat his force. But we must at all costs keep his Eye from his true peril. We cannot achieve victory by arms, but by arms we can give the Ring-bearer his only chance, frail though it be.

As Aragorn has begun, so we must go on. We must push Sauron to his last throw. We must call out his hidden strength, so that he shall empty his land. We must make ourselves the bait, though his jaws should close on us. He will take that bait, in hope and in greed, for he will think that in such rashness he sees the pride of the new Ringlord: and he will say: "So! he pushes out his neck too soon and too far. Let him come on, and behold I will have him in a trap from which he cannot escape. There I will crush him, and what he has taken in his insolence shall be again for ever.

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: Return of the King — 2003

[balrogballs]

I'm still sad about this heartwarming and mildly amusing little section where feral adolescent Aragorn brings some joy to Maedhros in his unhinged little way, which I had to cut out of Cast in Stone for structural reasons, especially as I had gone to the trouble of illustrating it!

But I realised it reads perfectly fine standalone, so you guys can have my crumb of Maedhros-joy instead. No context required: Maedhros and Maglor are temporarily staying in the Shire during the late Third Age, Maedhros had a horrible night of traumatic dreams and was being maudlin — until young Aragorn, aka Elros II and the bane of his life, turns up like a bad penny, as he often does. Enjoy!

---

"You look unhappy," said Estel, sitting down before Maedhros, legs crossed. "Does your hand hurt? Surely it can't be as bad as when it got chopped off, can it?"

"No, but leave me be, Estel, I have —"

"All right, but let me ask just one question. I promise, then I'll go away. I just remembered something from my lessons, and every time I ask Ada he looks up at the sky and asks the Valar where he went wrong in raising me," Estel moved closer, looking around for eavesdroppers. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But I would like to know."

Maedhros frowned, swallowed the lump in his throat and dragged in a breath. "What?"

"Fingon rescued you on one of those enormous eagles, didn't he? On that mountain with Morgoth and all of that. It was one of those, right? Manwë's Eagles."

"Yes. He did. I do not wish to answer any further questions on the matter, clear off."

"And it was quite a long journey, wasn't it?"

Maedhros grunted.

"I've always had a question about it… and again, you don't have to tell me if it's too traumatising," Estel's eyes shone, as though he were about to hear a state secret. "And I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Spit it out, boy, or leave me now. I am in the mood for neither company nor memory."

"Did it… you know…?"

"If you're trying to ask me if losing the hand hurt, yes it did," Maedhros snapped. "Now leave me alone, I've had enough reminiscing for a damned century. Get off home, now!"

"Oh, shut up, I wasn't asking about your stupid hand, I don't understand why you think everyone sits around thinking about your hand," Estel scowled, pursuing his lips, before deciding his quest for scientific knowledge was more important than whatever had crawled up Maedhros' arsehole and died. He widened his eyes conspiratorily, looked around again. "My question has nothing to do with that! I just wanted to know, did the eagle… you know?"

"Estel, I am not going to repeat this, get out of my sight right this —"

"Did it take a shit?"

"Did… what?"

"Did it take a shit?" Estel flushed as he said the word, Elrond's parental touch finally taking hold, though in a predictably useless manner. "And if it did, how big was it? As in, was it normal bird crap, or was it, you know — like a bucketload of it?"

Maedhros blinked. Estel held his hands out to demonstrate.

"I've always wanted to know that about them, you know," the boy continued, stroking his chin like a philosopher. "Manwe's eagles, that is. Surely if they're big enough to carry two people, one being a towering beast like you, their droppings must be massive."

"What…?" Maedhros couldn't formulate words, a state of being Estel clearly had no familiarity with. "Their… what?"

"And yes, I know they're divine, all of that, but surely they can't be toilet trained, can they? I just don't see Manwë having enough time to toilet train an eagle, you know. Could you imagine just… going about your day, and having this massive tub of birdshite fall on your head? Oh, it could drown a person, I'm sure of it!" Estel grinned, as if said occurrence would be the best day of his life, had it happened to him. "So, did it? And if it did, did you see if it went on someone?"

Maedhros sat there blinking at the boy in complete silence before rising quietly, taking the now-extremely-familiar ear, and slowly — like he were a corpse — leading Estel to the village gate. He didn't say a word, only gestured weakly and put up three fingers, a signal the now sulky boy was very used to.

And as Estel, muttering darkly all the while, neared the completion of his first punishment-lap of three around the village green, he heard something that sounded like a donkey in immense pain. It was a sound so tremendous and unexpected that it brought Maglor running from the house, gaping at the source, having not heard such a thing in centuries. It was no donkey, but Maedhros in complete hysterics, sitting on the ground exactly where he was when he beckoned Estel to run, sobbing with laughter, actual tears pouring down his face, which itself was screwed up and flushed so pink he looked like he'd been badly sunburned. He was trying to explain the situation to Maglor (who had been glaring at Estel as if he had personally killed his brother, and now looked upon him like he was Iluvatar himself) but Maedhros was howling too hard to even stand, let alone form coherent words.

Estel pretended not to notice, and started on his second lap. Though objectively speaking, the laugh itself sounded like something between a foghorn, a pig and whatever noise he imagined Ungoliant would make — there was something rather lovely about it that brought an inexplicable little smile to his face.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Someone asked me to expand a little on a topic that was buried down in a big chain of reblogs, so I'm doing that here--it's about the use of the archaic "thee", "thou", "thy", etc. in LOTR and what it tells you about characters’ feelings for one another. (I am NOT an expert on this, so it's just what I've picked up over time!)

Like many (most?) modern English speakers, I grew up thinking of those old forms of 2nd person address as being extra formal. I think that's because my main exposure to them was in the Bible ("thou shall not...") and why wouldn't god, speaking as the ultimate authority, be using the most formal, official voice? But it turns out that for a huge chunk of the history of the English language, "thee," "thou," and "thy" were actually the informal/casual alternatives to the formal "you", “your”, “yours”. Like tú v. usted in Spanish!

With that in mind, Tolkien was very intentional about when he peppered in a "thee" or a "thou" in his dialogue. It only happens a handful of times. Most of those are when a jerk is trying to make clear that someone else is beneath them by treating them informally. Denethor "thou"s Gandalf when he’s pissed at him. The Witch King calls Éowyn "thee" to cut her down verbally before he cuts her down physically. And the Mouth of Sauron calls Aragorn and Gandalf "thou" as a way to show them that he has the upper hand. (Big oops by all 3 of these guys!)

The other times are the opposite--it's when someone starts to use the informal/casual form as a way to show their feeling of affection for someone else. Galadriel goes with the formal "you" all through the company's days in Lórien, but by the time they leave she has really taken them to heart. So when she sends them a message via Gandalf early in the Two Towers, she uses "thee" and "thou" in her words to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli because now they're valued friends and allies. And--this is the big one, folks, that was already alluded to in my previous post--Éowyn starts aggressively "thou"ing Aragorn when she is begging him to take her along as he prepares to ride out of Dunharrow. She is very intentionally trying to communicate her feelings to him in her choice of pronoun--an "I wouldn't be calling you "thee" if I didn't love you" kind of thing. And he is just as intentionally using "you" in every single one of his responses in order to gently establish a boundary with her without having to state outright that he doesn't reciprocate her feelings. It's not until much later when her engagement to Faramir is announced that Aragorn finally busts out "I have wished thee joy ever since I first saw thee". Because now it is safe to acknowledge a relationship of closeness and familiarity with her without the risk that it will be misinterpreted. He absolutely wants to have that close, familiar relationship, but he saved it for when he knew she could accept it on his terms without getting hurt.

So, you know, like all things language-based...Tolkien made very purposeful decisions in his word choices down to a bonkers level of detail. I didn’t know about this pronoun thing until I was a whole ass adult, but that’s the joy of dealing with Tolkien. I still discover new things like this almost every time I re-read.

[subaerial-dweller]

i like that in the fellowship of the ring, Aragorn (i think it's Aragorn) calls Frodo "son of Drogo", because it means there have been personal off-screen (off-page?) conversations.

like frodo gets talking one night about how he came to live with Bilbo, and the fellowship tell him it's all terribly sad about his parents drowning and all that, and he goes "thank you it was a while ago now but i appreciate it", and then Sam goes on about his gaffer who he loves more than almost anyone, and Aragorn kind of gets to explain his bloodline situation to a bunch of hobbits who don't fully understand what "the blood of Numenor" is but they're trying to be very supportive anyway.

they're all friends, is what i mean. and while they were nearly freezing to death and getting shot at and getting balrogged and dying and all that, they took the time to get to know each other because that's nice.

[verkomy]

I think about this scene at least four times a week

But Aragorn smiled. ‘It will serve,’ he said. ‘The worst isnow over. Stay and be comforted!’ Then taking two leaves, he laid them on his hands and breathed on them, and then he crushed them, and straightway a living freshness filled the room, as if the air itself awoke and tingled, sparkling with joy. And then he cast the leaves into the bowls of steaming water that were brought to him, and at once all hearts were lightened. For the fragrance that came to each was like a memory of dewy mornings of unshadowed sun in some land of which the fair world in spring is itself but a fleeting memory. But Aragorn stood up as one refreshed, and his eyes smiled as he held a bowl before Faramir’s dreaming face. ‘Well now! Who would have believed it?’ said Ioreth to a woman that stood beside her. ‘The weed is better than I thought. It reminds me of the roses of Imloth Melui when I was a lass, and no king could ask for better. Suddenly Faramir stirred, and he opened his eyes, and he looked on Aragorn who bent over him; and a light of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes, and he spoke softly. ‘My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?’ ‘Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!’ said Aragorn. ‘You are weary. Rest a while, and take food, and be ready when I return.’ ‘I will, lord,’ said Faramir. ‘For who would lie idle when the king has returned?’

J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of The King

[winwin17]

Aragorn said, "You have my sword."

Legolas said, "You have my bow."

Gimli said, "You have my axe."

Gandalf didn't say, "You have my staff," because it's Gandalf, not his staff, that's powerful, and besides, I think it was pretty well established for the Hobbits by now that Gandalf was on their side.

But what did Boromir offer? He was, in a way, the odd one out. He was new to this whole Hobbit thing. He struggled to grasp the reason for this whole mission. Some may have been unsure at first if he was really dedicated. They may accuse him of being less noble than Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, especially because he briefly fell to the Ring's influence.

But when all was said and done, what Boromir offered was the most touching. No, he didn't offer his sword or his shield or even the horn of Gondor. But in the end, in the moments that counted, even though Frodo wasn't there to see or hear it, Boromir's deeds declared:

"You have my life."

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 '𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮' (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 2.9k (each individual around 180~ words) | Read on ao3

TWS : Power imbalance touched on in Thranduil's scenario

This work is not chronological to the scenarios/these take place at different times

« 1, 13, 14, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ Aragorn believes in elvish love, so from the moment he confesses he knows that he loves you.

✧ He sees how much he does in everything, from the few dates you can steal in Rivendell, to the smiles you exchange while walking with the Fellowship.

✧ But he’s not sure when to say it, as he knows just how much of a milestone it is. And how much he wants it to mean to you.

✧ Keeps trying to get it in a specific place, a specific time. But every time he just enjoys your company, and never ends up saying it.

✧ You notice his love, however. So obvious in how he’ll stare at you, offer to help with something or simply spend time with you.

✧ Eventually, it happens only a few days before the Fellowship is to leave Rivendell.

✧ The two of you are stargazing together, and he just about hears a yawn you fail to stifle.

✧ Laughing, he moves closer to you and wraps you in his cloak - the two of you cuddling together.

✧ As you rest your head on his chest, and he looks up at the stars, he thinks about how perfect this is.

✧ Gently, he bends his head to be near yours before whispering. “I love you.”

✧ Feeling you look up, he simply smiles when your gaze becomes more questioning.

✧ When you say ‘I love you too’ you can immediately see his grin, and he gently places a kiss on your forehead.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ When an elf confesses, the idea that they love you - utterly and completely - is an undertone that’s carried with it. It’s Legolas’ unspoken promise to you, as soon as he’d asked if you would court him.

✧ But actually saying it to you is another matter.

✧ He’s not scared, he’s just… a little scared. And a little intimidated. Because he doesn’t want to mess anything up, and he wants what he will give you to be perfect.

✧ So Legolas actually takes a long time to say those words, although you know how he feels about you for a while.

✧ Legolas also confesses just before you leave Rivendell, although his is more planned out.

✧ He spends almost two days beforehand looking over all of Rivendell, in sunlight and moonlight, trying to figure out what place is perfect for you.

✧ What place is worthy of you.

✧ Eventually, he decides on a shaded pavilion surrounded by trees, one that reminds him of Mirkwood. Except here flowers grow all around, and he can focus on being romantic with you.

✧ When he invites you to join him you suspect something, although the sight of your prince surrounded by flowers is still breathtaking.

✧ Waiting until you join him, he tries to hide his nervousness by rubbing his finger over the flowers he’s holding for you.

✧ And then you’re right in front of him.

✧ “I love you.”

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo first says he loves you when he confesses to you.

✧ (“(Y/n). I know we’ve been friends for a long time now, and I’m very grateful for that. But - I don’t just want to be your friend. I want to be more to you, I want you to be able to love me like I love you.”)

✧ But that doesn’t make his feelings any less genuine, his love for you any less sincere.

✧ When he says those words to you he means it just as much as anyone else, he’s just slightly more in tune with his emotions.

✧ Because he knows you well enough that, as much as he wants to make a grand romantic gesture out of these words, he simply wants to tell them to you more.

✧ (Besides, the sooner he says it for the first time the sooner he can say it again.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ He’s embarrassed about how he’s going to say it. Not because of you, of course - he knows he loves you wholeheartedly - but because he doesn’t want to mess anything up.

✧ So, to make sure he can properly confess to you, he practises.

✧ What he says changes slightly each time, there are too many good qualities to pick. And although some staples remain it often changes to encompass what the two of you had done together, like how beautifully you look when you smile, or how grateful he is that you’ll help him.

✧ When Sam finally has the perfect time to say what he wants, he realises he’s slightly at a loss for words.

✧ You can tell he wants to say something to you, the way his throat hitches and then he relaxes. Taking a deep breath.

✧ Noticing your eyes on him, Samwise decides that now is the time to speak.

✧ “I- I love you. More than I’ve ever done with anything, more than I do with the Shire, or the flowers out in the garden. Because, you’re the person who truly makes me happy. You’re the person who I can truly be myself with, you’re the person whose smile lights up my heart. The person who knows how to make me feel better, the one I can trust.”

✧ “And, for that. I really do love you.”

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Although he’s overt with his affections, Merry doesn’t immediately say these words to you. He wants to earn them. To prove to you that he is a good boyfriend, and then he’ll be fully worthy of your love.

✧ At least, that’s how he sees it. (And somehow doesn’t see that he two of you are completely enamoured with each other.)

✧ It’s a little after your third date, when the two of you are sitting together and laughing, that he realises he needs to say it.

✧ He waits until the two of you have stopped, with only smiles gracing your faces. But he can’t wait longer than that.

✧ “I love you!”

✧ The admission rings in the otherwise silence, and then he sees you smile. And he realises that he is worthy of all of this.

✧ Merry eagerly leans into the hug, burying himself in your arms before whispering it again, this time with a grin on his face. “I love you.”

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ You actually say it first, while the two of you are walking in Rivendell together. You’re on a more secluded path, and as Pippin asks about your day - and listens - you can tell he truly is absorbed.

✧ There’s passion in his eyes as he listens to you, nodding and asking the right questions, and you realise this is the time to say it.

✧ As an elf you knew you loved Pippin when he confessed to you, and that you would always love Pippin, but you were never sure when you would say it.

✧ As you stare at him, Pippin realises something’s happening and he turns to you with a quizzical look.

✧ “I love you.”

✧ It’s only three words, but Pippin lights up as though you have promised him the world.

✧ “Really?” The grin he gives is incredible, “I love you too!”

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ When Boromir confesses to you he’s says almost exactly that, just not using these words.

✧ For him there is something almost sacred about them, a bond more powerful than anything else.

✧ He is also worried about saying these words, and again it’s because he doesn’t want anything to go wrong. He wants to continue being worthy to you.

✧ So, when he confesses how much he loves you, he decides to do it properly. Asking you the day before if you’d meet with him, going to the market and hand picking flowers.

✧ Coming to where he is, you can recognise when he first sees you. Freezing slightly as he looks you up and down, almost as if he can’t believe you’re here, before smiling and welcoming you.

✧ At first it’s just talking. There’s romantic undertones, of course, and then he swallows and you realise he’s going to say something important.

✧ “I… I love you.” He says it proudly, “For all of you. I love you so much, my heart.”

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Also afraid of confessing his true feelings to you. Although not just because he wants it to be perfect, which he does, but because of more self-worth issues.

✧ That his times with you are some of the best he has, and he doesn’t want any of that to change. He still wants to be able to laugh with you in Gondor, to kiss your hand goodbye and see the smile you give him in return.

✧ He isn’t sure why his mind thinks telling you that would put you off, but it’s a large enough part that he’s slightly hesitant.

✧ As the two of you walk along one of the top segments of Minas Tirith, he turns briefly to look at you. At how perfect this moment is.

✧ And he realises he needs to ask.

✧ “Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, almost as if he wishes you not to hear it, but you pick it up and give him permission.

✧ Fully turning to you, he takes your hands in his. “I love you.”

✧ The way your eyes light up, and you immediately say it back, washes away the doubts he has.

✧ The kiss you lean into, light but reassuring, helps as well. Just another small gesture of how deeply the two of you feel for each other, and one he will never tire of.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ (Éowyn’s eyes drift to the Paths, the rest of your company waiting, before she takes a deep breath. “Then we shall both swear not to fall in battle. We shall both fight to protect who we love.”)

✧ She is another who says how she feels in all but those exact words. And neither of you get a chance to say those words to each other until you’re in the Houses of Healing.

✧ As much as she wants to say it the second you’re awake, she shows some restrain. Waiting to make sure that you’re mostly ok.

✧ The conversation flows decently, but both of you know what she wants to say.

✧ And then the conversation stops.

✧ “I love you!” She blurts it out, and then instantly looks embarrassed. But your grin reassures her, and the red on her cheeks go from blush of embarrassment to a blush of love.

✧ As to not aggravate either of your wounds, she instead holds your hand as tightly as you will allow.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ Éomer can think of quite a few times when he’s wanted to say those moments to you (and, in all honesty, he could have said them from the moment he confessed.)

✧ But instead he tries to wait, waiting for the perfect time. And then, as he’s sitting at home and watching the fire die down, he realises that there will be no perfect time with you. Because every time is magical, in its own way.

✧ So he resolves to only until he sees you again.

✧ But, as the fire turns to embers, Éomer realises that will be too long of a wait.

✧ It’s almost eleven at night when you hear a knock on your door, and you open it to see him outside, looking up at you.

✧ As soon you open the door he hug you, burying himself in your arms. “I love you. And I should have told you earlier, but I love you.”

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Bard wants to try and take things slow in the relationship, to fully appreciate each day (and even each moment) that he gets with you.

✧ That doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about how he’d say those words to you, or potentially how they would sound falling from your lips, but it isn’t something he wants to rush.

✧ It’s something he wants to happen organically, as a product of your relationship rather than a given day.

✧ But still, when he finally confesses, it almost just slips out.

✧ You’re just saying goodbye to each other, and you turn back briefly before you leave, as if waiting for him to say one final remark.

✧ “I’ll see you later, love you.”

✧ The words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he can feel himself blushing once he realises what he’s said - once he sees you frozen in space.

✧ “Did you…” You come slightly closer, “Did you actually just say that?”

✧ Looking into your eyes, he sees his own love reflected back at him. “Yes, I did. And I do.”

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ For all the elves, the act of saying ‘I love you’ is the largest commitment they will say, in their entire life.

✧ Those words will become like oaths, have them bind themselves to you for all of time, and that can never be taken lightly.

✧ The gift of love is the most meaningful of all, at least to them.

✧ But for Thranduil the weight of those words means even more. It also offers you a kingdom, a new family, and (most importantly to him) he does not want to pressure you.

✧ While sitting together, you can sometimes so clearly tell that he wants to say this to you. The elf will catch you, either over a book or glowing in the sunlight, and he just begins to speak before switching the conversation.

✧ And you catch on to why he hasn’t said that.

✧ Then, it happens again, as the two of you are talking over the fire together and he does that now familiar start of a conversation.

✧ Looking him in the eye, you place your hand over his, “Tell me.”

✧ “Are you sure?”

✧ “Completely.”

✧ “I love you.”

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Despite being a minstrel, his words seem to fail him when he looks at you and tries to confess.

✧ He can write something down, yes. An epic poem or a song that details how he feels about you - but it's never quite enough. There is always something missing from it, something that does not show his love for you properly.

✧ Lindir recognises that it’s because it lacks spontaneity, he’s tried to polish and perfect it to be worthy of you but lost the raw emotion that gives it so much meaning.

✧ Which is why, after he puts down the pen for the third time that evening and thinks, he realises he should just tell you.

✧ There’s a quiet knock on your door, and when you open the door you see Lindir - blushing profusely.

✧ “I love you. I love you more than anything, enough to give up this immortal life, to give up the moon and stars. Because, for me, you are worth more than their light, than their radiance. Even a single smile from you is worth a thousand suns, because you are you. And I love you.”

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Surprisingly, Haldir says those words to you when he confesses to you.

✧ He’s worried, for many reasons, and one of those is the weight that those words carry. That they may be too much, too soon.

✧ But he resolves to try, and that - on the eve of battle - it wouldn’t be wise to have regrets.

✧ (“I must say something, before this happens.” He reaches out, fingers gently touching your hand and breathing in when you fully embrace it. “You are the one my heart has chosen to fall in love with. Forever. And I apologise for the awkward timing, for not saying something sooner, but I need you to know now. That I love you.”)

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ As good with words as the twin is, the idea of putting all his love for you into three simple words is terrifying.

✧ And, frankly, he doesn’t think it sums up how he feels for you well enough. How can three words encompass all the happiness you give him? All the smiles he has gained because of you? The comfort he has gained because of you? The infinite ways his life has become better?

✧ Then the two of you are together, when you let out a small yawn and he pulls you close.

✧ Cuddling into his chest, you stare up at him for a second, “Thank you, Elladan.”

✧ “Of course.” He doesn’t mean to add the next words on, “I love you.”

✧ Elladan feels when you tense for a second beneath him, then the smile on your face as you look up and whisper, “I love you too.”

✧ Until now, Elladan didn’t understand what those words meant. But now he does, and how much they carry. How obvious it is, when you say those words for him, that you care.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Surprisingly, Elrohir struggles to say the words as well. Not because he doesn’t love you - he’s more sure about his feelings to you than he is most things in his life - but because he isn’t sure what you’ll say.

✧ There’s a degree of elven versus human courting fighting inside him. That, although he’s been clear with the fact he loves you (even jokingly asking you to marry him) that perhaps you thought it was just that, a joke.

✧ That he hasn’t done any of this the correct way, and what if you don’t feel the same way.

✧ You find it slightly odd that, with long days into your relationship, and no words past your lovers lip - that neither of you acknowledge it.

✧ But, although you can’t be sure, you think you start to recognise the problem.

✧ So it’s you who says it to him. “I love you.”

✧ “Really?” Instantly all his attention is on you, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes hanging onto your every word, “Do you really love me?”

✧ “Yes.”

✧ “Meleth nîn, you are my world.”

A/N : Casually drops this after disappearing for three weeks. Well, not disappearing, just not working on these. Sorry for the delay, life's been happening. But I hope you enjoy! Also, here's the remains of my original author's note : (the taglist issue still has not been fixed, so I welcome help!)

First of all, for some reason my taglist isn't working. It's just only tagging the first five people soo... I will try my hardest to fix that. Not sure what's going on with it. Also, the getting flowers was inspired by a drabble recently (can't remember name of author) but the thing that amused me was when they wrote about the flowers matching your eye-colour. Like, my eyes are brown. I'm sure it's supposed to be romantic, and it was very well written, but that just made me laugh.

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[thewulf]

Little One || Aragorn

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

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

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not can I!” Merry agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Four days?” You swallowed back your surprise.

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

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

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

You just looked up at him, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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