#datcilly

[mokutone]

@iwantkakashisgender responded to a post: Plant cells have a large vacuole which is an organelle that just holds a bunch of water. That vacuole pressing against the cell wall is what makes it rigid. When u don't water plants they get droopy and it's bc that vacuole is empty. And then they bounce back once they get water. Maybe Yamato can control the rigidity of his armor that way? I'm also now laughing about Yamato getting too dehydrated and looking kinda droopy bc of it

KDJGHSDJK do we not all look kinda droopy when we are dehydrated! i believe it. he has two back pouches so he can fit another water bottle back there

@datcilly responded to a post: new headcanon accepted: Yamato can grow a cork cambium

kjhDhgdksgh YEAH! CERTAINLY!

@quimerathetraveler replied to a post: Plants can stand without bones thanks to their "veins", which are made up of dead, very lignified cells, so the possibility of being able to make armour out of those is quite plausible

I SEEE i see...this seems to be true of woody plants, which would make sense for him

[chiliadicorum]

Two Dead Husks and a Random Mithrandir

A/N: This is my gift for @datcilly for the @tolkiensecretsanta2017! A fic between two friends is what I came up with. Gandalf and Elrond were requested, with some fluff and fun. This kind of turned out with a little less fluff and fun than originally planned, so I hope you don’t mind that too much! But I loved writing this and hope it’ll make you happy if just a little bit! Merry Christmas! :D

(If reading on my blog is difficult, let me know and I’ll give you a link to a better page)

He had been sitting on that stretch of hilltop for at least an hour. Prone as he was to losing himself in his musings, he was not so lacking as others as to lose sense of the passage of time. And even if so, his grey palfrey happily obliged to remind him of the nearing midnight hour, growing more annoying with each persistent nudge to his shoulder with her muzzle. She did it again and Elrond leaned away, glaring up at her.

“I know! I know we must go. Stop reminding me.” He eased his voice to gentleness, too fond of the horse to be too flustered, though he still refused to pet her. Maybe she just wanted an apple. Maybe it was a sign that the living beings in Valinor were softer than those in Middle-earth, because he could swear that their horses and other such endearing creatures were more demanding of treats than in life before. Or maybe he was just being bitter.

“Elrond, Elrond, where has your warmth gone?” The familiar voice came from behind, warm itself and carrying great fondness.

Elrond frowned as he twisted around. “Mithrandir?” he said with a little surprise and in no little confusion. He had not seen him since their disembarking on the bays of Tol Eressëa all those years ago, when the joys of reunion for himself and all those who sailed with him had grown rapturous and the Maia had gone his own way. Elrond stared at the whitened hair and full beard, at his stooping frame and the wise, olden features of his face. His frown deepened. “Why do you yet clad yourself in that form? Say not you cannot leave it.”

He added the last more in jest and Mithrandir chuckled, shifting his robes before lowering himself to hunker down next to him in the ankle-deep snow. “Hardly. But in my true form, even as I appear to you mirroanwi, you would not be speaking with one whom you know, would you?”

Elrond gave a small smile. “Think you I am so shallow?”

Mithrandir’s own smile deepened, reaching up to his bright eyes. “Ah, I have missed you, my friend. And no. But I know from my Ages of dwelling with you Elves before my coming to Middle-earth that it takes some time to adjust, even though it has been years. For all your life, my People were but names recorded in your lore and seeing us in person is quite different, even one whom you saw in likeness of a Man.”

“It has been years.” Elrond glanced suspiciously behind him at his mount, who was now leaving him be and just swishing her tail. “Years since last we spoke, long enough I no longer count the years.”

“Years you deserved to rest in with your Celebrían,” he said warmly. “But come, you did not answer. What do you here all alone? Are you not supposed to be in Lórien?”

“Yes.” Tension he had not even been aware had left at the Maia’s arrival returned swiftly and it was an effort to not let it rise to the surface.

Mithrandir regarded him calmly, his eyes shining in that all too perceptive way Elrond was never sure if he liked or not. “Hm. Yet you are not.”

Elrond glanced at him and resisted a sigh, looking back out to the sight of legend before him. “I had a disagreement with Lord Irmo’s Master Healers.” He could not resist the sarcastic lilt in his voice. Yes, petty, but he was alone, unhappy, sitting in wet snow in the dead of night, so he did not care.

“Oh? Care to share? You know I will listen.”

Elrond lifted an eyebrow at the tone, the small smile reappearing. “You sound as if you already know.”

“Perhaps I do, but I can see it festering in you. You know talking relieves much restlessness, if you want to.”

“No.”

Mithrandir let out that subtle, rumbling chuckle deep in his chest, one so familiar that it sent Elrond off kilter for a moment. “Oh Elrond, so long has it been since I heard you so aggravated.” He looked both amused and endeared at the same time. “I will speak of it no more tonight, save only to lecture you to be of greater cheer. The Merendë Andohrívëo is in three days and your current mood is hardly one of celebration.”

He sighed truly this time, in chagrin and a little tired. “I know. I am returning to Tol Eressëa to spend it with Celebrían. Gil-galad wrote he is planning a few hearty festivities of his own, so I look forward to it.” He squinted off into the distance, contemplative. “I am surprised Lord Irmo allowed me to leave. I was hardly polite and I do not believe he approved of my departure, at least in the way I did it. I know not if I am angrier with him or his healers.”

Mithrandir squeezed his shoulder. “I would say his healers for I know Lord Irmo better than you, but let it go for now, my friend. Take joy in the festival and try to spend it in peace.”

Elrond nodded. “Hence my return to Tol Eressëa.”

“And quite the detour you are taking to see yourself there, if I may say, riding this far northward.” Mithrandir turned to him fully, his expression turning serious, maybe even a little concerned. “Why did you come here? This is hardly a place of celebration, or a place to inspire such.”

Elrond looked back out to Ezellohar, at the two dead husks of gigantic proportions standing coupled together on their mound mantled in white. Even from this distance Elrond could easily discern which one was Telperion, for its shade of color was a little subtler, a little more grey even in death than that of Laurelin’s. No one was here, the vast expanse of snow undisturbed save where he had guided his horse. The snow was falling slow and steady and he knew there was a solid layer of it on his hair by now. His exterior was as cold as the snow he sat unmoving in, his clothing soaked through and his rear growing numb, though whether from the position or the chill he could not tell. The Two Trees alive and dead were visions he could only ever conjure in his imagination. While that was still true for the former, the rottenness and gnarled scarring in their lifeless husks went beyond anything he had envisioned and were hardly a sight to induce any good feeling. Mithrandir was right. This was no pleasant place, even in the peaceful snowfall of winter.

“Elrond?”

He gave a small shake of his head and his voice was soft. “Think not it is something profound, Mithrandir. This is not my first visit to Ezellohar, though it is in winter. I was merely curious, trying to guess at the sight of the Two Trees in all their glory during this particular season. How their Light might shine in the snow, in the snowfall….It is a wondrous sight to imagine.”

Mithrandir regarded him for a long moment, pursing his lips. “Winter did not exist in their lifetime, Elrond,” he pointed out. “You are a master of lore as few others. I should not have to tell you this.”

Elrond smiled fully at his laconic tone, his heart lightening. “I know that,” he drawled. “Elladan and Elrohir asked it when they were only three.”

“Did they?”

“Yes.” The smile remained, turning into one of soft affection. “When they learned that Glorfindel had lived in the Light of the Two Trees, they pestered him for details, as far demanding what it looked like during the winter months. In which Glorfindel then explained that there was no winter, which my boys could not understand, which then led Glorfindel into having to explain just why there was no winter.” He harrumphed. “Fathom clarifying that to two children of only three years. He did his best. I cringed. Erestor laughed. It was a good day.” Warmth spread through him at the memory. “I just recalled it all of the sudden today.”   

Mithrandir’s voice was tender. “You miss your sons.”

Elrond looked away, hands briefly clenching where they were wrapped around his knees. “Of course I do.” He was quiet for several moments and the lance of pain was sharp in his chest. “It feels so long now that I cannot speak. Nor does Celebrían, but I know her heart, the turning of her thoughts. There are times I am furious I did not remain, regardless of how worn I was. Furious with myself I did not drag my children onto that ship with me. All of them.” His chest tightened and it was all he could do to keep it all at bay, just all shoved down and away. “Arwen decided to stay. My boys know nothing but Middle-earth and their love for those lands is great. A love I know, for I would have stayed a while longer if I had not been so weary.” He closed his eyes tight, the swelling in his chest moving up to his throat and he forced in a deep, shaking breath. “It has been so many years.”

“Many ships have yet to come. I am sure Glorfindel will convince them to board one if they are uncertain. Do not despair yet, my friend. Though you picked a fine place to dwell in despair if such was your goal. You always were good at that.”

Elrond found himself grinning in spite of himself and he looked at the other in mild appreciation. He shook his head, trying his best to shake off the melancholy. “You Maiar do not help. I have seen it enough, one of you approaching an Elf or another to tell them of family who is sailing. Whenever I see one I find myself expecting, hoping the message is for my wife and me, only to discover that it is not.” He paused, turning a curious glance on Mithrandir. “Is it always like that? You coming to us Elves?”

He nodded, beard bristling. “When someone is sailing, the Valar will send one of us to bring the good tidings to the Elf’s friends or family, simply to ensure that they may be greeted by someone known to them when they come ashore. To be escorted, if you will, into this new land and people.”

Elrond was nodding, turning his gaze back out to the Two Trees. “A courtesy any host would bestow upon newcomers.”

“Precisely. That it causes such joyous reunions is but a coincidence, you understand.”

He snorted in good humor. “Coincidence, sure.” Mithrandir’s soft laughter warmed him and the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “Is it also a coincidence you bring such tidings to them on days of festivity more often than not, such as the one in three days and others throughout the year?”

“No. Can you name better days for such announcements?” He grinned cheekily, which quickly relaxed into one more sincere. “It gladdens us when we may deliver true means of celebration. We brought word to your sweet lady of your own voyage across the sea during the Merendë Yavanniëo and she mayhap remembers it every year after on the day.”

Elrond looked over in mild surprise, eyes softening as he thought. “She did not say.”

“No matter.” Mithrandir suddenly stood, evidently not bothering to shake off the snow from his attire, instead holding an aged hand out to him. “Rise, Elrond, and return you home. Sitting here alone with only morose thoughts for company and after what happened in Lórien does you no good. The Merendë Andohrívëo is in three days. Go and make merry with those friends and family you do have with you at the moment. If you continue your journey now, you will just make it.”

Elrond grasped the hand and rose, brushing himself down from the clinging snow, though there was none to sweep off his rear seeing as all of it had melted into his leggings. He raised his eyebrows at Mithrandir, a glimmer of amusement brightening his eyes. “Is that why you are here, to shoo me off?” The palfrey clopped forward at a gesture and he made quick work of clearing the dusting of snow from her back. He mounted, adjusting the saddlebags back into balance.

“Well, you were not listening to your friend.” He gestured towards the palfrey and she jerked her head up with a snort, as if in agreement. “I could only encourage her so much before she began to grow annoyed with me.”

Elrond made a face, though he patted at her neck fondly. “She is annoyed easily.”

Mithrandir reached out to fondle her snout as he looked up, his grey gaze solemn. “If you find it within you to hear me, put your quarrel in Lórien behind you for the nonce. Let it not soil what joy you may find this week, dear one.”

“Perhaps I shall.” Elrond grinned. “Celebrían would not let me remain so sour as it is.” He bowed his head. “Farewell, Mithrandir. I hope to see you again. Soon and more frequently, mind you,” he added pointedly.

He chuckled. “And happily so, Child.” He jerked his head eastward past the Trees. “Off you go.”

And he did. With a fond smile and a wave, Elrond clicked his tongue and the horse responded, going slowly at first to descend the slope of the hill.

Mithrandir stood there, snow dancing around him as he watched him go, riding on and on until he was barely visible in the haze of white. He nodded to himself, humming under his breath. And then his form shifted, growing brighter, taller, both younger and older, beautiful of cosmic proportions and eyes of such radiance they eclipsed that of the stars.

He hummed again in consideration. “And perhaps a fellow Maia with news will be visiting you in three days,” he said quietly. A smile creased his ethereal face even as he faded from sight, the scent of apples and mint lingering on the air.

Merendë Andohrívëo: Winter Solstice celebration, lit. “Festival of the Gates of Winter”

Merendë Yavanniëo: “Festival of Yavanna”, taking place in Autumn or in our September

Mirroanwi: incarnates, those “put into flesh” [Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth MR.350]

[bringingbacktheboosh]

BBTB2020 Fanworks Masterpost

We know this post is late, but if you’ve been paying attention to the news this week, shit’s been going down and everything is terrible. Luckily, we have 17 brand-new fics to help distract you from the fact that the world is on fire. 

Thanks for your patience, and big thanks to everyone for participating in this year’s Bringing Back the Boosh event. All of our creators deserve mad kudos and comments for creating so many wonderful works under such extraordinary circumstances. 

Here’s a masterlist of all the works submitted to our AO3 collection! Don’t forget to let our artists and writers know how much you appreciate their work.

“Naboo and the Marriage of Incovenience”, by @littlebooshmaid for @iocococo, The Mighty Boosh, Mature

Naboo receives some unwelcome news from Xooberon: everyone on the planet is supposed to be married by the age of one hundred, or face execution. Now they’ve caught up with him, it looks as if only marrying Howard will save Naboo from certain death. But how will Vince feel about that? And will anything where the Shaman Council is involved turn out as expected?

“Cut Your Bangs”, by @the-stoned-ranger for @anciientboosh, Nathan Barley, Explicit

After slipping in his sobriety, Dan Ashcroft, forty-year-old fuckup, attends Alcoholics Anonymous and gets his shit together. It just takes almost losing everything to motivate him to do it. This started off as a simple fic about Dan learning how to have a relationship with Jones, and became a 40k epic of a redemption arc. For reasons known only to the muse, Nathan Barley insisted on tagging along for the ride, as he so often does when Dan Ashcroft is concerned.

“The Wrong Kind of Monsters”, by @concupiscence66 for @littleredchucks​ , The Mighty Boosh, Explicit

Howard and Vince were both lonely and lost, but when they met... it was actually pretty awful, but stories can always be re-written. In a world of magic and monsters, there's no reason to settle for just one reality.RedChucks asked for "A second shot at a first kiss" and I went a bit off the rails here. The story is about... reinvention. I adore RedChucks, so I hope they forgive the liberties I took with the prompt.

“we've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen”, by @silentorator for @badbadbucky, The Mighty Boosh, Teen (you must be logged into ao3 to read this fic)

Vince and Howard go to a psychic to get their tarot cards read.

“The Simple Life”, by @bob-skeleton for @peacockbluey, Mature

A look at a more mature Howince, with a lot of backstory of how they got there.

“Borrowed Light”, by @iocococo for @bob-skeleton, The Mighty Boosh, Explicit

A Victorian AU!When Howard Moon moved to London to pursue his dreams... well, he probably shouldn't have. Turns out getting a gig with the London Symphony Orchestra isn't as easy as he'd hoped. He's broke, nearly homeless, and bombarded by the pesky attention of his housemate, Vince Noir, who doesn't annoy him nearly as much as Howard pretends he does. With a unsympathetic landlord, a boss dead-set on making his life miserable, and magical shenanigans afoot, can Howard ever sort out what he really feels for Vince? Will he ever achieve his dream job? Will I actually have written a semi-competent summary of this fic by the time I stop typing this?Find out in Borrowed Light!

“Walking a mile in unfashionable shoes”, by @littleredchucks​ for @kateyboosh, The Mighty Boosh, Teen

Howard makes a wish and things go slightly wrong, though more so for Vince than for Howard, which is strange for them both. This was meant to get sexier at the end but it didn't end up that way. My apologies.

“The Kiss of a Mermaid”, by @datcilly for @r3lilith, Teen 

And then Howard was back in that dreadful wet cave. His heart was beating fast but filled with determination because this time - he was on a mission.

“The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known”, by @peacockbluey for @littlebooshmaid, The Mighty Boosh, Explicit

When a spell gone wrong forces Howard and Vince to get closer to each other in more ways than one, certain things are forced into the open. Written for the Bringing Back the Boosh Fic Exchange 2020. Slight AU, set post-Party.

“you can't always get what you want (but if you try sometimes)”, by @culumacilinte for @the-stoned-ranger, Sweet, Explicit

Five times Pete caught Stitch having a wank, or: four times Pete caught Stitch having a wank and one time Stitch tried and failed to get caught, or: these two idiots are kinky and make bad decisions but it all works out in the end.

“If You Think This is Real Life”, by @anciientboosh for @chagrinfalls, The Mighty Boosh, Mature

An adventure is had, strange things start happening about the flat, and Howard is sick. Guess it's up to Vince to save the day. Should be easy right?

“Touched”, by @agarlandoffreshlycuttears  for @datcilly​, The Might Boosh, Teen

A prompt for the Bring Back the Boosh challenge:Likes: Naboo, the Shaman Council, Gen, a good laugh

Pairings: Open to anything but only platonic :)

Prompt 1: A stag tour to Xooberon does absolutely not go as planned. Prompt 2: Howard and Vince mess with the Occult again, bad juju is afoot!So I mixed the two together (sort of): Howard goes missing again and Naboo has finally had enough of his pet humans being a complete bloody nightmare and decides to get to the bottom of why they can't go five minutes without something terrible happening to them (and thus Naboo).

“Worst Dressed List”, by @badbadbucky for@agarlandoffreshlycuttears The Mighty Boosh, Teen

Vince finds himself on Cheekbone's Worst Dressed List. And even worse, Howard is on the best dressed list.

“Call the Fashion Police”, by @badbadbucky for @silentorator, The Mighty Boosh, Teen

After the owners of a high end fashion shop make fun of Vince's clothing designs and Howard, his slightly absent minded boyfriend, fails to notice for far too long, vince decides to get rid of all his clothes. Now Howard must defend his boyfriend's designs and unravel a fashion conspiracy.

“I’m Having a Party”, by @r3lilith for @fucking-pimberly-i-guess​, The Mighty Boosh, Teen

Vince notices that Howard has not been the same since the disastrous party he threw for his birthday, and decides that another party is just the thing to cheer him up.

“Episode 9″, by @kateyboosh for @concupiscence66​, The Mighty Boosh, Mature

What happened between Series 1 and 2? Why did the Zooniverse close? Why are Vince and Howard so sexy and half naked in Series 2?All these questions from the lovely concupiscence66 answered inside, along with healthy doses of mischief, mayhem, fluff, angst, and smut, references to later events in S2 and S3, and blatant disregard for the Zooniverse map.Connie, thank you for the challenge of this prompt. I sincerely hope I did it justice, and that you enjoy reading.

“Miseducation”, by @chagrinfalls for @culumacilinte​, The Mighty Boosh, Gen

Howard goes on a school field trip. It doesn't go as planned.

[tolkienrsb]

Day 9 Roundup 

Only one more day until the weekend!  To keep you going, here’s today’s selection from our summer of collaborative creativity...

Sea Longing by @cycas (writer) / @androgynouscardinal (artist) //  The tale of the Took family's Fairy Wife ancestor.

Coming Home by @grundyscribbling (writer) / @ladybrooke (artist) // Maglor sailed West with Sam.

Smith Returns by @nienna324 (writer) / @elfstan (artist) //  An elderly Smith returns to Faery and is sent by Alf to find a special fruit for an upcoming feast.

A Crown for a Queen by @fernstrike (writer) / @datcilly (artist) //  In which Arwen conspires with Elanor Gardner to surprise her wonderful, overworked husband.

Rebirth and Rediscovery by @alkarinqque (writer) / @theelegantbookworm (artist) //  Aegnor and Andreth were, in the beginning of their new, own story, just that: new and on their own.

Celebrindal by @factorialrabbits (writer) / @theninewalkers (artist) //  Idril learns to create, to live, and to wear beautiful things.

Certain Dark Things by @northerntrash (writer) / @meredithsdardenne (artist) //  In which Lúthien seeks a monster, but finds something else.

Check out the rest of the TRSB2020 Collection here!

[drawmealama]

Surprise

Here is my Tolkien Secret Santa gift! It’s the first time I try to write a fic in english but I tried my best and I had a lot of fun with it.

This gift was made for @datcilly !!! I hope you will like this little one shot. Happy holidays!!!! 

@officialtolkiensecretsanta

The Fellowship is meeting up in the Shire to celebrate the end of the year. Legolas wants to surprise his friends. It works but not the way he intended to.

find this fic on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21935215

or read below the cut

When it comes to sleep, elves have always been peculiar towards it. With being immortal and being capable of staying awake for long periods, sleeping does not always come naturally. The risk for an elf to be pushing their bodies so hard that they exhaust themselves without knowing it is real. Usually, there are symptoms an elf can look for to know it is time to rest but in some cases, the body simply overpowers the mind and forces it to sleep.

Legolas prided himself in knowing his limits and never losing track of his sleeping needs. He had never experienced any of the telling symptoms nor been forced to "true" sleep.

-------------

He was travelling to the Shire to see his friends and companions for their usual meeting to celebrate the end of the year. The Fellowship expected him to arrive in a few days but he wanted to surprise his friends (and beat any other travelling member of the Fellowship to the Shire) and so he had decided to travel day and night non-stop to arrive early.

Once there, he snuck inside the new stables, that their hobbit friends had built in recent years to accommodate the members of the Fellowship who preferred to travel by horse.

The elf put his pack down there and was ready to go and surprise his friends when he started to feel dizzy. Unbalanced and with dulled senses Legolas panicked. He had never felt so weak.

Even in the rare cases where he had gotten injured during a battle, he always managed to keep perfect control of his body's reaction.

He stumbled, not knowing what was happening and realizing he was alone.

The fair elf felt terrified.

His lids were beginning to fall, and it was near painful to open them, making the idea of laying down, curling up and sleeping until it was over an appealing idea.

Half unconscious, Legolas had just the time to think about finding a warm, cosy place to rest and then lying down so he would not injure himself when he collapsed before he fell asleep.

-------------

The day the members of the Fellowship were to arrive in the Shire, Frodo decided to go and greet them at the borders of the land.

He spent most of the morning reading under a big tree, snacking on some dried fruits and nuts when he hears the first set of riders going down the path.

Frodo packs his stuff quickly and runs up to meet the newcomers.

He can already see two horses at a walk, one piebald and the other bay. He immediately recognized Boromir and Aragorn and goes to meet them, using a fallen tree to elevate himself to the riders’ line of sight.

"Aragorn! Boromir!" He called. “You’re early."

They both turned to him at the familiar greeting.

"Frodo." Greeted Aragorn stroking Brego’s neck unconsciously, to calm the horse.

Aragorn smiled kindly at the hobbit, he was obviously trying to not laugh at his friend’s antics, his upbringing with the elves of Rivendell had made him a calm and steady man and a kind king. Boromir, he did not hold back and laughed amicably.

"Nice to see you too, Frodo."

He slowed his horse and dropped the reins, and extended an arm to Frodo who took it readily and was lifted to sit in front of Boromir.

Normally hobbits did not like to travel with their feet so far from de ground but being a member of the fellowship and being “Mad” Bilbo Baggins’ nephew, gave him opportunities to ride ponies and horses often enough to get used to it.

The two men and the hobbit talked amicably, catching up on what had happened since the last time they saw each other.

-------------

When they arrived at the stables, it was indeed a surprise that greeted them.

They had found Legolas curled up on a pile of hay. It looked like a bad attempt at a nest.

"Legolas!" Boromir dismounted in a hurry to get to his friend, Aragorn followed closely with Frodo at the doors of the stable where he had helped in opening them.

"What happened? Is he alright?" Asked the Hobbit. He sounded afraid. Aragorn got closer to the elf, brushing a few strands of blond hair out of his face. He smiled reassuringly to the Hobbit.

"Yes, he is alright. He is just sleeping." Boromir looked incredulous.

"Sleeping? I thought elves slept with their eyes open wide?"

"Most of the time they do. However, there is something that elves call “true sleep” or “deep sleep” as opposed to “rêverie” where they have their eyes open.

I remember, when I was a kid in Rivendell, scouts would come back after long periods without sleeping and they would collapse on the spot because they got so exhausted." Aragorn looked at the hobbit. Frodo had gently taken Legolas’ hand in his.

"Can we do something?" Aragorn nodded.

"Lead the way young master Baggins. Boromir and I will take him to Bag End to lay him down more comfortably, and we will come back for our bags and rub down our horses."

The two of them carried the blond elf to the Smial and were led by an astonished Bilbo to a room with a big bed for Legolas. They set him down, and Frodo tucked him in carefully.

"He’s heavier than he looks." Aragorn turned to his friend, still amused by the situation.

"Elves are indeed surprising creatures."

-------------

In the next days, the rest of the Fellowship arrived at Bag End but Legolas did not wake up for a few more days.

When he finally did, they were all waiting, impatient to greet him. Sam, who was in the elf’s room at that time, looking after him, got to do it first.

Sam noted that Legolas was slow to open his eyes and he had to blink a few times before he looked alert enough to recognize the hobbit.

"Sam? Where am I? What happened?" the hobbit gave him a cup of water to clear his mind.

"You are in Bag End. You slept for a few days. Aragorn said you must have been quite tired after travelling and fell asleep in the stables." Still disoriented, Legolas took a second to answer.

“Oh, I see… where are the others?”

“Probably in the sitting room. We’ve been waiting for you mister Legolas." Legolas looked mortified.

“Great… Let's go then.”

In the sitting room, Aragorn was talking to Bilbo, in the meantime Boromir and Gimli were enjoying the warmth of the chimney while listening to the younger hobbits’ antics. When Sam arrived with Legolas in tow they all turned and greeted their friend, happy to see him well. They eventually all sat down around the elf.

“How do you feel?” asked Merry. Legolas looked around for a bit, relaxing when he saw that his friends were genuinely worried and would not laugh at him for forgetting something as simple as sleep.

“I’m alright… a bit hungry, but I am well rested." He smiled. His friends looked relieved to hear that. Pippin even got up to go and get him something to snack on from the kitchen.

“What happened to you Legolas?” asked Aragorn “what made you exhaust yourself?”

Legolas looked sheepish “I was trying to surprise you." Gimli gently tapped his shoulder, careful to not jostle the blond.

“That you did lad!”