#frodo and sa

[taxihome]

for all my sins I’m back on tumblr. I’ve made a post like this a couple times in the last few years and then not actually started using tumblr again, but I really want to now. I feel like I need a soft space where I can consume all my hyperfixations. so erm. hi? I’ve had a LOT of hyperfixations (I got diagnosed with ADHD last year, my brain makes so much more sense now) over the years, but I guess my current/current-ish/long standing loves are like, fall out boy, peterick, steddie, heartstopper/nick and charlie, dan and phil, book of mormon/mcpriceley, hannibal/hannigram, dirk gently, lotr/frodo and sam... ok shit there’s a lot more but I’ll end up writing an essay. I also love colourful clothes, dungarees, cool/bring makeup, food and drink, psychology, gay stuff. so yeah hello and I guess gimme a follow/stick around if you like any of that? 

[gamerbearmira]

(SA for LoTR cause I just rewatched the first movie)

"Frodo allow me to introduce Mirabel. Your uncle and I have told you stories of her. Mirabel this is Bilbo's nephew Frodo." Gandalf said introducing the two to each other.

"Mirabel? The child of Elves and Man and Dwarves my uncle speaks so fondly of? Surely not. She'd be well into her eighties by now." Frodo said and Mirabel merely hummed.

"So it's been roughly seventy years since I was taken from this world? I can only imagine what has changed. Well met Frodo of the Shire!" Mirabel said beaming and then she put a hand on Antonio's head as he sat perched in her lap.

"This is my aunt's youngest son Antonio! Tonito say hello to my friends nephew!" Mirabel said and Antonio beamed.

"Well met Frodo!" Antonio chirped mimicking Mirabel.

"Well met Mirabel and Antonio! Welcome to the Shire. You are just in time for my uncle's birthday!" Frodo hurriedly remembered and used his manners. If this was truly the one who traveled with his uncle and his dwarven friends then it do well to be polite. His uncle had stressed her aim and power with her shoe.

"Truly? The fellow must be over a hundred!" Mirabel said but she seemed pleased with this.

"A hundred and eleven! I hope you do not mind Mirabel but I do think you'd make a magnificent present for his celebration!" Gandalf said with a mischievous chuckle.

Mirabel laughed as well.

"Aye! I dare say the rascal would get quite a shock upon seeing me!"

REALLLL. I also watched it at my cousins house a few days ago 😭 Gimli still soloed 🔛🔝

Nah but Frodo was rocking wit them❗ Probably was wondering about Antonio but hey. The more the merrier. Besides, Mirabel is here, and she literally looks the same, just older and taller, obviously. But not much else changed, and that's gonna be a surprise to Bilbo 🤧

Remembered that Hobbits are like. 3 feet tall, not even 4 feet, so Antonio is likely taller than a lot of them. Funny. 🚴‍♀️💨

[catwouthats]

YES OMG HE KNOWS THE SHELOB ALLEGORY OMG OMG

PLEASE ELABORATE MR GAIMAN I WANT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS I HAVE SO MANY (most of them depressing as shit and very personal to the characters)

PLEASE SHARE!!

NEIL, QUICK! WHAT'S FAVORITE LORD OF THE RINGS CHARACTER? NO FURTHER ELABORATION NEEDED

Shelob.

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Eleven - Motels

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Series Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood, pregnancy, hint at child abuse (not explicitly written)

Series Masterlist

The car was packed up, and she was in the passenger seat, waiting for him. Bob, though, was focused on other, more important things.

Natasha stood in front of him, nodding along to everything he said. He was being an overbearing mother, the both of them knew. But this was Frodo we're talking about, and there was no such thing as overbearing when it came to Frodo.

"One tin of food in the morning and one at night," Bob said as he placed his house key into Natasha's palm. "If he wants brushing, he'll let you know. But if he gives no indication, don't brush him. He should be okay all day on his own but I don't know how he'll react without me there."

Natasha closed her fingers around the key. "Bob," she began, her voice full of scepticism. "You know he's a cat, right? Frodo is gonna be just fine with me." She looked past him, at the woman waiting in his truck. "There's someone that needs you a little more than Frodo does right now."

She was right, and Bob knew it. "Thank you for doing this, Phe," he said and Nat gave him a nod. No sappy shit, that was that they'd said when they were the pair selected for that mission all those years ago. And it stood today, no sappy shit.

"You do what you need to," she said and backed towards his house. She raised her hand in a wave and said, a little louder this time, "We'll be there when you guys get back! Have fun!"

Bob walked back towards his truck. He gave Natasha one last wave as he pulled open the door and climbed his way in. "Ready to go?" He asked the girl in his truck, the one that had been watching his entire exchange with Nat.

She sucked in a breath, hand settling on her stomach. There wasn't even a bump, but the response was involuntary. She'd been doing it ever since she'd taken those positive tests. "Ready," she said and blew out a breath of air.

There was no reason for her to be nervous. She wasn't the partner meeting the parents for the first time. No, she was the friend in a shitty situation, being helped out by the sweetest man in the universe. Because that was what Bob was, wasn't he? The sweetest man in the universe.

He started the truck and pulled out of the driveway. They waved at Natasha from where she stood in the doorway, until she disappeared into his house. "When was the last time you went home?" She asked as they drove down his street.

"Not for a while," Bob answered honestly. He swallowed, his palms hitting the steering wheel as he turned right at the end of his street. "I should have visited them more, but I thought that they'd be-" He sucked in a breath, all signs of his nerves. "-disappointed."

Immediately, she shook her head. "Bob, you're in the navy. Why the hell would they be disappointed in you?" She turned towards the window. She muttered something under her breath, something that sounded like 'fucking dumbass'.

There were several stops planned on their trip up to Montana. They had to, it was a twenty-one hour long trip. "Wanna start on the snacks?" Bob asked as they headed out of the state.

She looked back. A series of snack foods were sitting on top of the few bags the two of them had packed. She grabbed the closest one, a bag of chips, and opened them. With his eyes still on the road, Bob reached into the bag and pulled a handful out.

"Barbecue ribs, my favourite," he said as he ate them.

She turned up the volume of the radio. The eighties station, it was very Bob. Her head moved slightly as Bob sang along, entirely unbothered by the way she was watching him. But she wasn't staring out of judgement. He was so comfortable around her, so free. She loved it.

They stopped for lunch just a few hours into their journey. Bob help her hand as he helped her hop out of the truck. "My mom is gonna make us the best food when we get there," he said as they walked towards the diner.

They were walking so close, so close that she knew she should have been touching him. Holding his hand or walking with his arm around her shoulders. Even if they walked with his hand on her not yet there bump, she wouldn't have minded.

They walked into the diner and slipped into a booth. "What are we hungry for?" He asked as he opened the menu.

"Grilled cheese," she answered without looking at the menu.

If it was a grilled cheese she wanted, it was a grilled cheese she was going to get. "No worries, Doll," he mumbled as he stood. It would have been so right to press a kiss to the top of her head before he headed over to the counter. But he held himself back and strode over, giving their order and their table number to the waitress.

Their stopover in the diner was very short lived. They ate their food before they hit the road, half a grilled cheese sandwich in a takeaway box.

The motel Bob had in mind was only a few hours away. With her belly full, she couldn't hide her yawns as Bob drove on. "We'll be there soon," he mumbled. He went to pat her knee, but thought better of it. His hand settled back on the gear stick.

Bob didn't know when she fell asleep. He turned the radio down slightly and took a second to look at her to make sure she was comfortable.

Just an hour later, Bob pulled into the motel. It was definitely dingy and grimy, and certainly not the sort of place he wanted to take her to. It should have been a fancy hotel, with one of those big beds covered in rose petals and a bath big enough for two.

He fought with himself before he woke her up. If the area wasn't so dark and terrifying, he would have left her there to sleep some more. The shadows surrounding the car had him holding her hand as he helped her out of the truck and walking over to the reception.

She was hardly awake as Bob got them a room. The last one, according to the receptionist. He handed over the key as Bob handed over the last of the cash in his wallet. He didn't miss how the guy's eyes moved over her, and how she pressed herself closer to his side.

"Come on," he whispered, arm protectively around her as he pulled her back to the car. He knew he didn't look like much, knew that guy probably thought he could easily take him on. But Bob would be damned if he let anything happen to her.

They got what they needed from the car and made their way up to their room for the night. The last room in the motel, apparently. Bob's anxiety spiked as he let go of her just long enough to unlock the door.

A single bed lay in the middle of the room. "Crap," Bob hissed as he walked in, immediately locking the door behind them. "I guess I'll take the floor."

A motel room floor. There was no telling when it was last cleaned, or what the suspicious stains were. Yeah, there was no way Bob was sleeping on the floor.

Silently, she walked over to the bed. "Yeah, I think we can both fit," she said as she sat on the mattress. Even with the duvet beneath her, she could feel the springs poking through. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but it'll be cosy."

Bob pulled his lip between his teeth. "I don't know," he muttered and looked into the bathroom. If he found a spare blanket, he could sleep in the tub. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It was my idea, Bob," she said as she fished through her bag for some pyjamas. "I won't be uncomfortable, I promise."

Bob sucked in a breath. The roach in the tub seemed to stare at him the moment he switched on the light. He quickly flicked the light off and walked back towards her. "Maybe don't go into the bathroom," he mumbled and sat on the end of the bed.

His body fell back as she pulled her shirt over her head, not much caring that Bob was there. He turned his head to the side, looked at the damp and peeling wallpaper opposite. This wasn't the sort of place he wanted to take her. This wasn't the sort of place where you rented rooms for the whole night.

"Done," she said and laid herself down beside Bob. They weren't trying to touch, but they had no choice in a bed this small.

While Bob got changed into his own pyjamas, she climbed beneath the scratchy duvet. The entire room felt unclean, including the bed. But she could stick it out for the night.

Bob climbed into the bed beside her. The two of them laid there, stiff as a board, waiting to fall asleep. They laid there, unmoving, hyper aware of their own breathing and just how loud it was.

It felt like an hour, but it couldn't have been an hour. Bob ran his hands over his face and rolled towards her. "Can I touch you?" He whispered.

She nodded as she rolled away from him, the both of them facing the wall with the peeling wallpaper. Bob was still hesitant as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered, his fingers moving across her stomach, just light enough to not tickle her.

Still in his arms, she rolled over. "Don't apologise," she whispered. Her hands came up to touch his face. She could just about see him in the darkness, see him without his glasses on. "It's just one night, Bobby," she whispered.

He looked down at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and played with his hair. God, she looked so right beneath him, looked so right in his arms. The more he looked at her, the more the shitty motel room didn't seem to matter.

Bob kissed her. He leaned down and captured her lips in his. This time he initiated it, and she was happy to hiss him back. His hand slipped to her hip, pulling her as close as possible. When she pulled away, he tried to keep his face neutral. "We're really doing this, huh?" She asked, no sound of regret in her face.

"Yeah," he answered and she shuffled closer, her lips pressing against his throat. "Yeah, I think we are."

She kissed him again, lips on his as she pushed at his shoulder. But there was no bed behind him for him to fall back on. His sharp intake of breath alerted her to something wrong and she grabbed hold of him, pulling him back on top of her.

Bob was quick to flip them over. She was on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. Bob held her still, stopped her from grinding down on him.

Bob was breathless when his head fell back, hitting the pillows. "Sweetheart, I..." But he struggled to find the words, struggled to articulate just how he was feeling. "Not here, not in this shitty motel room."

He leaned forward, went to kiss her again, but, this time, she pulled away. She sat up in his lap, hand settling over her stomach. Over her non-existent bump. "You're not gonna want me when she starts to show."

Shaking his head, Bob took hold of her hands and pulled her down onto him. "You're wrong, doll," he whispered and kissed her quickly. "I'm always gonna want you."

She cradled his face as she kissed him. She was right, he really was the sweetest man in the world.

Taglist: @nurse-floyd

@not-nyasa

@burningwitchprincess

@darksparklesficrecs

@primroseluna

@littlemsbumblebee

@wretchedmo

@imaginecrushes

@calpalsbestie

@hiireadstuff

@lyn-js

@emma8895eb

@teacupsandtopgun

@finnydraws

@writtingrose

@afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff

@callsignwidow

@mp0625

@els-marvelvsp

@daggersquadphantom

[onestevetogo]

Lord of the Abridged : Revenge of the King

Flashback Sméagol- I just love Deagol!

Flashback Deagol- I just love Sméagol!

Ring- Hey

Flashback Sméagol- Gollum.exe

Later

Merry- We boss.

Pippin- We totally boss.

Gandalf- This place is wet af.

Gimli- I ran all this way for soggy hobbit.

Pippin- Come at me bro, I’ve had like four breakfasts today.

Saruman- My house has water damage.

Grima- He says your momma was a balrog.

Saruman- Stfu.

Grima- Sorry.

Gandalf- Tell me how to turn Sauron Sauroff.

Saruman- Saurin your dreams.

Grima- PAIN!

Saruman- Egad!

Gandalf- Lmao.

Theoden- We’re alive!

Aragorn- We’re alive!

Soldiers- We’re alive!

Eowyn- ManFlesh!

Aragorn- She wants my manflesh.

Aragorn- *hides*

Gandalf- This is my seeing stone. Not for Pippins. Don’t touch.

Pippin- Okay.

Gandalf- Time for a nap.

Pippin- Shiny!

Sauron- WHO DIS?

Pippin- Oh no! Consequences!

Sauron- OH NO! A TWINK!

Gandalf- Steward Denethor, we gotta fight.

Denethor- King Denethor.

Gandalf- I didn’t vote for you.

Denethor- Make Gondor Great Again.

Pippin- Congrats! You get a free hobbit!

Gandalf- Pippin wtf.

Denethor- Can never have too many hobbits.

Gollum- Look! Stairs!

Frodo- Omg.

Sam- Omg.

Witch king- Let’s go everybody!

Orc leaders- If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands!

Orcs- *not clapping*

Gandalf- I need you to set some private property on fire.

Pippin- Say no more.

Aragorn- Fire!

Theoden- Fire!

Soldiers- Fire!

Orcs- Row row row your boat gently down the stream!

Faramir- They’re rowing their boats down the stream. What are they planning?

Orcs- Merrily merrily merrily merrily, make the soldiers scream!

Faramir - Oh no.

Pippin- *Watching Denethor eat tomatoes*

Pippin- I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Gollum- Sam ate all the bread.

Sam- wtf?

Frodo- That makes perfect sense.

Sam- wtf???

Frodo- Go home Sam.

Sam- WTF??????????

Elrond- My daughter wants your manflesh.

Aragorn- :)

Elrond- But she’s also dying.

Aragorn- :(

Elrond- Here’s a cool sword.

Aragorn- :)

Eowyn- I want your ManFlesh.

Aragorn- The world is literally about to end.

Eowyn- …

Eowyn- So is that a maybe or…?

Denethor- Why can’t you be more like your brother.

Faramir- My brother is dead.

Denethor- Exactly.

Faramir- :,(

Pippin- omg I’ve made a horrible mistake.

Aragorn- Yo Ghosts.

Ghosts- We’re going to kill you.

Aragorn- Look at this cool sword.

Ghosts- We will follow the keeper of the cool sword.

Orcs- This little piggy went BOOM.

Soldiers- *Fighting*

Orcs- *Fighting*

Denethor- This defeat was totally unavoidable and not at all my fault.

Gandalf- Time for a staff adjustment.

Gandalf’s staff- *Adjusts Denethor’s face*

Nazgûl- *Finger in car door screeching*

Gandalf- PAIN!

Witch King- PAIN!

Gandalf- What the canon?

Orcs- Eat all the ManFlesh!

Theoden- We ride at Theodawn!

Orcs- Theodang!

Gandalf- *Having a blood rage*

Pippin- Denethor is turning his son into nice crispy bacon!

Gandalf- Egad!

Denethor- #blazeit

Gandalf- Jousting!

Denethor- I’m gonna fall off this cliff and really ruin someone’s day!

Theoden- We’re Theodone!

Witch King - You’re Theodoomed.

Theoden- *chewtoy noises*

Eowyn- It’s time you Fell, Beast!

Witch King- PAIN!

Eowyn- I’m in pain!

Witch King- Haha, I’m immune to manflesh.

Eowyn- I am no ManFlesh!

Witch King- Oh shit.

Witch King- *Dies*

Theoden- Oh shit.

Theoden- *Dies*

Aragorn- I’m here now.

Orcs- Hey cool sword!

Ghosts- We thought so too.

Orcs- Oh no!

Orcs- *Die*

Eowyn- Hey I’m not dead!

Faramir- Hey I’m also not dead!

Eowyn- *gasps* ManFlesh!

Faramir- *gasps* Acceptance!

Gollum- Hey check out this cave.

Frodo- I don’t like this cave.

Shelob- What? A friend? Hello new friend!

Frodo- Oh no! A disgusting spider!

Shelob- Wow, rude.

Gollum- She’s going to eat you!

Shelob- Not my friend!

Frodo- Must run away!

Shelob- Poor friend! I’ll make a nice cozy sleeping bag for you!

Sam- Oh no! A disgusting spider! I’ll take him from you!

Shelob- No, he’s tired! Don’t take my friend!

Sam- *Stabbing noises*

Shelob- But my friend :(

Sam- *Opens sleeping bag*

Sam- This boy dead as hell.

Sam- *Loots the body*

Orc- This boy dead as hell.

Other Orc- Nah he’s just tired. Let’s get him into a bed.

Sam- Must follow them!

…

Shelob- My friend :,(

Orc- Shiny!

Other orc- My shiny!

More orcs- Our shiny!

Sam- I’m about to commit so much aggravated assault.

Frodo- Hey I’m not dead!

Sam- Oh. Then the ring is yours. I guess.

Aragorn- Knock knock.

Mouth of Sauron- Who’s there?

Aragorn- Chop.

Mouth of Sauron- Chop wh-

Aragorn- *Chops*

Orcs- Oh my god! He killed Dave!

Orcs- You busturd!

Aragorn- Oh no.

Soldiers- Oh no.

Legolas- That’s a lot more than seventeen.

Gimli- I am no longer racist.

Sam- We’re almost to the cave!

Gollum- It’s hobbit season!

Sam- Suplex City!

Gollum- Foul!

Frodo- Home stretch!

Sam- Toss the bish, make a wish!

Frodo- No.

Sam- That’s a terrible idea!

Gollum- That’s a great idea!

Frodo- *Finger food noises*

Gollum- *Trips*

Gollum- I’m melting! What a world! Oh, what a world!

Frodo- Oh shit!

Sam- Oh shit!

Pippin- Nice crispy bacon.

Sauron-…

Sauron-…

Sauron-AAAAAGHBLAGHBUGMAGUGA!!!

NAZGÛL YOU HAD ONE JOB!!!

Frodo- I want some bread.

Sam- I really wanted to pick Rosie’s cotton.

Frodo- Oeugh Sam!

Eagles- *Coming*

Aragorn- Theoden and Denethor are dead. I rule unchallenged. All hail the king. ✨✨

Elrond- You are now barely good enough to date my daughter.

Arwen- MaleMeat.

Aragorn- *Happy king noises*

Later

Frodo- Retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Sam- I’ve picked so much Rosie Cotton.

Frodo- I’m out.

Bilbo- I’m out.

Gandalf- I’m out.

Galadriel- Wait for me Beard Daddy.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Except Shelob.

[bralesscommie]

My Tolkien Headcanons

Silmarillion and Lotr characters

Elrond

Has PTSD, possibly c-PTSD from the Third Kinslaying, losing his parents and growing up with the people who took away his home

Has sensory issues, mostly a hard time with crowds and loud noises (also for PTSD reasons), but also really hates some textures

Pretty bad migraines from foresight and tension headaches from anxiety to the point where a couple of times a month he can't work

Is a workaholic

Is bisexual

He/they in an elf way

Isn't white, it's kind of hard to tell his exact race with his very mixed genetics

Maglor

Has anxiety from growing up in the chaotic house of Fëanor

Is depressed

Uses music as escapism

He/him but doesn't mind he/they

Is pretty fluid sexuality wise

Maedhros

C-PTSD from being chained to a mountain and also like everything else that's ever happened to him

Has depression

Chronic pain in his back and shoulder, as well as phantom pain in his amputated arm

Has some kind of personality disorder

Is gay

He/him

Eärendil

Has anxiety from and is traumatized by the escape from Gondolin

Was not ready to be a dad

Straight

He/him

Is definitely not white

Elwing

Is traumatized by the Second Kinslaying, possibly PTSD

Bi-curious

She/her, has thought about adding a they to her pronouns

Eowyn

Has anxiety and depression

Has anger issues but is learning healthy coping mechanisms

Has trauma from SA, and does her best to spread awareness

Enjoys being butch in everyday life, but will dress up feminine once in a while

Is bisexual

She/her

Is happy being poly, but doesn't mind being in monogamous relationships

Arwen

Had really bad anxiety after Celebrían sailed, but is doing much better, though she still has occasional tension headaches

Sensory issues like her dad

Also similarly to her dad, she is mixed

Sapphic, but is open to very few men

She/her

Aragorn

Pretty mentally stable, at least considering everyone else around him

Brown

Is bisexual with a preference for women

Does not care about his pronouns, but is cis in some weird way?

Legolas

Was born in an era with very few elflings, and as an only child hasn't had the opportunity to socialize at all

Rich whiteboy (gender neutral) privilege that they don't entirely recognize

Probably not neurotipical

Fluid sexuality, doesn't really like labels, but if asked persistantly will say he has a preference for men

He/she sometimes they

Bilbo

Has ADHD and anxiety

Struggles with ring addiction

Is acespec and gay

They/he

Sam

AuDHD

Has low self-esteem, imposter syndrome, and anxiety from his childhood with the Gaffer

Is brown

Pansexual

Officially he/they but prefers they/them

Frodo

Is autistic

Has chronic pain post quest

Has chronic fatigue post quest

Possibly transmasc, he/they or he/him

Gay

If you would like to see other characters, or more on some characters, my ask box is always open

[spinningalbinoturtle]

Disability Headcanons for Lord of the Rings

Seems the disability representation in LotR has been getting a lot of love on this app recently so gonna add some more❤️

Frodo

Obvs things from the books PTSD, chronic pain, chronic fatigue

And also he’s autistic

He’s a wheelchair user post-quest but he’ll sometimes just use a cane around the house

I also think he has some other disabilities from the quest, some mobility issues from Shelob, some visual impairment from staring at the eye of Sauron, difficulty with certain foods from starving so long

But he gets therapy from Tom Bombadil and Gandalf

Sam found some great plants to help with his strength and eating habits

Is one of the first hobbits to realize that in addition to being pleasant pipeweed also has some medicinal properties

I feel like the Shire has more traditional healer types which would include something like a bonesetter (kind of like a PT) and he gets some good exercises from them

Sam

Also autistic and ADHD

Has some self esteem issues from his dad-Frodo has made it his personal goal to undue this

Gets headaches often after the quest because he got hit in the head so many times

While Sam generally takes care of Frodo more (just because he has more things that need care) Frodo is always there to take care of Sam when he has a migraine or is feeling down

Pippin

Pippin has severe ADHD

He uses a cane sometimes for his troll injuries

As he gets older they tend to bug him more so Frodo teaches him his PT exercises and encourages him to use a chair

Merry

Most think he is the only neurotypical one but this is not true he is just better at masking

Has some chronic pain in his arm

Eowyn

Depression, anxiety, to the heights

Also has some chronic arm pain

Her and Faramir both have issues but they help each other with them

Her coping skills include going for a long ride, painting, and stabbing bushels of straw with her sword

Makes a support group for women with mental illness

Also spreads SA and sexual harassment awareness in Gondor and Rohan

Bilbo

ADHD king

Has dementia in his old age

“Like butter stretched over too much toast”

Bad bitch syndrome

Starts a “magical addicts anonymous” which is attended by dwarves who had the rings.

[la-scigghiu]

“Chissà in quale tipo di vicenda siamo piombati noi!” “Chissà!” - disse Frodo - “Io lo ignoro. E così accade per ogni storia vera. Prendine una qualsiasi fra quelle che ami. Tu potresti sapere o indovinare di che storia si tratta, se finisce bene o male, ma la gente che la vive non lo sa, e tu non vuoi che lo sappia”

.🦋.

🔸J.R.R. Tolkien ~ Il Signore degli Anelli

[fioredialabastro]

Ehi ciao, provo a scegliere di farti 2 delle domande che hai proposto:

60. Sai ascoltare?

83. Pratichi la gratitudine?

☀️

Ciao 😊 Grazie per queste domande, le hai scelte entrambe molto dolci ✨

60. Sai ascoltare? 🎀

Chi mi conosce o chi semplicemente è entrato in contatto con me mi ha sempre detto che so ascoltare, anzi, sarei addirittura una psicologa mancata. Non avendo motivi per mentirmi, non mi resta che fidarmi. Credo che questa mia capacità dipenda dall'avere empatia, sensibilità ed intelligenza emotiva elevate, ma secondo me queste caratteristiche la rendono più spontanea, naturale, istintiva, non certo esclusiva. Tutti possono praticare l'arte del saper ascoltare; c'è chi fa più fatica di altri, ma con un costante allenamento si ottengono sempre dei risultati, basta volerlo.

Il mondo di oggi ha tanto bisogno di riscoprire la bellezza di sapere ascoltare gli altri e ciò che ci circonda; ci sarebbero più umiltà, misericordia e amore, un po' come scrisse Alda Merini in una sua poesia:

Mi piace la gente che sa ascoltare il vento sulla propria pelle,

sentire gli odori delle cose,

catturare l’anima.

Coloro che hanno la carne a contatto

con la carne del mondo.

Perché lì c’è verità, lì c’è dolcezza, lì c’è sensibilità, lì c’è ancora amore.

83. Pratichi la gratitudine? 🙏🏻

Credo in Dio, quindi sto imparando a ringraziarlo più spesso per tutto ciò che mi dona ogni giorno, soprattutto nei momenti più difficili, quando sembra che non ci sia niente per cui essere grati.

Da circa un anno sto anche scrivendo e decorando un bullet journal, in cui mi annoto tutte le cose belle accadute nell'ultimo periodo. Credo sia importante mantenere lo sguardo fisso sulla bellezza che ci circonda, perché nella società in cui stiamo vivendo non solo siamo bombardati di notizie, ma anche di negatività, quasi morbosa, come se ogni giorno accadessero solo disgrazie. Abbiamo, nostro malgrado, una visione distorta della realtà, per questo è importante riappropriarci della nostra obiettività, ricordarci che esiste anche il bene e che vale la pena combattere per esso, come ricorda Samvise Gamgee:

C'è del buono in questo mondo, padron Frodo; è giusto combattere per questo.

Infine, mi impegno anche a ringraziare gli altri il più possibile, non solo quando mi sono di aiuto (altrimenti si tratterebbe solo di educazione), ma anche per il semplice fatto di averli incontrati lungo il cammino o di averli addirittura come punti fermi nella mia vita. Spesso si tende a dare per scontata la presenza di qualcuno nella nostra quotidianità, invece bisogna sempre prendersene cura, perché tutti, che rimangano accanto a te per sempre o solo un giorno, che siano un bene o un male, sono un dono, un'opportunità per amare, crescere e imparare.

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Silvans Journal

Exactly what it says on the tin. I hc that one of the silvan customs is for every elf to write down what happens in their lives as a way to remember, and as a momento for those they leave behind should they die.

Now, these journal entries aren’t usually full fledged day by day walkthroughs. More like:

“September 19, 1568 SA

Naneth took me out hunting today! We caught a big buck, and she showed me how to skin it!”

For more intense and larger events the entries are longer, obviously.

When going on trips (or marching to war) they bring a small pocket sized booklet to write their notes down in, which they transcribe into their larger journal when they get back.

Ironically this means that the silvans have the most accurate record of history.

Culture wise this means that giving a silvan an empty journal is a big thing only done by family/the spouse and really really close friends. It is seen as a declaration of love by the giver (either romantic or platonic). Elves can buy their own though, no problem.

Furthermore, an elf’s first journal is actually written by their parents, documenting the begetting untill birth and is filled with everything the parents want to tell their child, should somethings happen to them when the child is young.

Silvans keep their full journals neatly in their personal book cases to be perused by them at their leisure. But outsiders flipping through a silvan’s personal journals without permission is a major faux pass.

The older a silvan is/the more they live through, the larger their journal collection.

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

Frodo, noticing that every now and then Legolas writes something down in a little booklet: what are you doing?

Legolas: writing down interesting things that have happened

Frodo: why?

Legolas: to remind myself what I’m living for.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas’s journal

June 18, 2230 TA, Imlardis

Arwen and I nailed the twins with all the rotten vegetables left over in the kitchen. Their faces were priceless.

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

Thranduil Journal

February 4, 18 TA, Greenwood

My son and his patrol took down group of orcs today, meanwhile I’m stuck drowning under paperwork and having to play nice with Galadriel. Fuck my life, why did Ada up and die on me!?

[anneangel]

So Bilbo...

1- Sparing the Gollum life, after Gollum pursues Bilbo with murderous intent for retrieve the Ring (which Bilbo found in the tunnel without seeing who lost it, and remembering that Gollum already intended to kill Bilbo before realizing missing the Ring).

2- Saving the Dwarves from the Spiders in Mirkwood. Bilbo's first act towards the safety of the entire Company, ensuring they reached the mountain.

3- Taking Arkenstone out of greed, and betraying Thorin, but then noting that would give up everything in mountain in exchange for his peaceful hole, then giving the stone in an attempt to avoid unnecessary bloodshed between Dwarves, Elves and Humans, aiming at a cessation of the conflict (tentatively) and more dialogue...

...Ok. It still didn't amount to anything, given that Thorin was willing to go to war anyway. And it was a silly idea because it was based on using the stone as a hostage to force Thorin to give what he owed to the other kingdoms, even though it was accepted, the strife between the kingdoms would remain in the heart.

Well, Bilbo was humble enough in the end to acknowledge that, even with the best of intentions, he "made a mess of this Stone thing".

And then Bilbo...

4- Acquired the Ring by "fate" and in its possession did not isolate himself, but adopted a relative to live close to him. Becoming responsible for custody/adopted and care his cousin Frodo, and making him his heir. After, leaving Bag End and give all to Frodo. "Destiny" or not, this adoption also determined the Ring's future bearer.

5- And though he disliked the gossip neighbors (especially those who looted his house under the name of an auction, and showed no happiness in seeing him return safe and sound and live, how they forced him to buy back his belongings and gossiped and badmouthed him ever since, all acting passive-aggressive) and Bilbo still puts up with them and gives everyone what they deserve, but is even generous to the poorest. And invite everyone to a big party with food and gifts galore! That he, as a joke, decides to "disappear" in front of these neighbors, after the way they treated him for years, is not mean: it's quite symbolic! Who doesn't want to disappear in front of people who make us uncomfortable?

6- Writing The Red Book of Westmarch. With his nature, wanting for a fairy tale ending; And he lived happily until the end of his days.

7- And then, when he becomes aware of the danger of the Ring, he proposes to finish what he started, so Bilbo offers to go to Mordor, in The Fellowship of the Ring, though in jest, the offer seems sincere. But Bilbo, though still physically preserved, is not the same Hobbit as before and so many years with the Ring have spoiled his resilience for it. So Gandalf tells him to leave that to another more capable and better hand.

8- At last Bilbo resigned agree to stay and continue to Writing The Red Book of Westmarch and allowing others to also place and add their stories.

9- And so, when the Ring was destroyed, age caught up with Bilbo, and he was a sleepy old Hobbit, who was allowed to go to Valinor with Frodo and other figures of great importance.

10- The fact that he is a character who is being a mix of right and wrong, jokes and serious, charismatic and grumpy, childish and mature, who gives him dimensionality of personality.

A flawed character, but willing to improve, and even though he was tempted by the Ring's traps, he did not misuse the Ring. He is not the best character, nor the most important. But it has its value, doesn't? Bilbo Baggins not an admirable character?

Extra: That Tolkien had no intention of writing LotR. He wrote The Hobbit for his children, including things some references to the larger mythology he was creating, without him knowing why exactly.

And then The Hobbit was published and it got bigger than it should have, with letters and requests for "more hobbit stories", even when Tolkien claimed he had nothing more to say on the subject and that The Hobbit had a satisfying ending that didn't open up scope for continuation.

But after insistence, and having his The Silmarillion denied by the publisher, the author set out to write The Hobbit 2, which later came to be known as The Lord of the Rings (which, as Tolkien says, is not exactly a continuation of The Hobbit, that given it's darker, it's also not The Silmarillion, although it sucked things out of there).

Well, like it or not, we have a lot to thank for the success of Bilbo and The Hobbit, don't we?

[thevalleyisjolly]

Wrong guest PC predictions for Team Ashton-Laudna-Orym:

A forgotten childhood friend of Ashton’s from the Hishari village

A Wildemount Wildling.  Wild out!

Dynasty agent sent to retrieve the beacon Ludinus has (+bonus points for being able to use dunamantic magic)

A furious kenku who’s been chasing after Ashton ever since Yios

Lord Eshteross’ unknown child from his mercenary days

An eisfuura whose family has been safeguarding this ancient pre-Calamity orb for generations

De Rolo kid who sneaked out of Whitestone to “help” Auntie Keyleth

Secret agent sent by J’mon Sa Ord to investigate whether this Ruidus/Solstice nonsense presents a threat to Ank’Harel

Thinly disguised Samwise Gamgee (to go with Orym’s Frodo energy)

Whitestone Andy

[gamerbearmira]

(SA cause hold on I had a thought)

"Ah a fifteen year old. Soon you will be of age to be betrothed. Surely you have many suitor..." The noble Man who was talking to Mirabel suddenly was cut off. And no not literally...this time...but metaphorically.

Galadrial was right behind Mirabel and she had her Drowned Power whatever the Man did not care right now, form going full force.

"Who dares look at my baby in such a way?" Galadrial demanded her voice echoing across the kingdom and Legolas and Gimli snickered as several people ducked for cover and Elrond and Celebron just exchanged gold.

"Wonder who pissed mother in law off using Mirabel this time?" Elrond muttered if only so he knew how big to dig the hole for the body.

"I believe the words suitors and betrothal were use-" Gandalf didn't even get a chance to finish his words before the three Elves at the table took off to go and join their Queen. Gimli wasn't far behind them.

"...Is it bad I want the ring back just so I can stab whoever mentioned that without being seen?" Frodo asked while Mirabel walked over and sat down beside them.

LOVE THAT FOR HER❗❗❗ but like it's entirely understandable. Even in Middle Earth, WHO SAYS THAT...TO ANYONE...like even if she was of age, that's just plain creepy??? Galadriel had every right 🙏🙏

Slay everyone who went to go jump bro, shootout to Gimli and Frodo specifically 💪💪

Skill issue tbh

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Nine - Positive

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood, pregnancy, hint at child abuse (not explicitly written)

Series Masterlist

There was three days of nothing from her. Three days that she sat on the couch. Bob left food on the coffee table, but it would have been a miracle if she ate it.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn't even touch her without her flinching away from him. Gone was the girl in the coffee shop, the one who dressed like a grandpa and got her fancy hazelnut latte with oat milk.

Still, he sat with her, close enough to touch if she wanted to. It was all on her terms, and Bob wasn't going to push her. He'd never push her.

She wouldn't take his bed, instead curling up on the couch with Frodo. No matter how much Bob insisted, she wouldn't take it. And, instead of pushing her (He'd never do that, remember?) he cleaned out his spare room. The boxes of shit he'd been meaning to throw away since he arrived in North Island, he finally had an excuse to sort it all.

She wasn't herself, but at least she took the spare bed. She had also started wearing Bob's clothes, neither of them wanting to go back to that apartment. But if she'd asked him, Bob would have. In a heartbeat he would have.

But he didn't much mind her wearing his clothes. It was a nice sight, a woman wrapped up in his jumper or his naval academy shirts.

The hardest part about living with her was pretending he didn't hear the nightmares. Scenes of her abuse, of her abuser playing over in her head while she slept. When she had her first nightmare, Bob had run to her on the couch, wrapped his arms around her as he tried to wake her up. But that had made everything so much worse, with her desperately pushing him away.

After a week of living with him, of wearing his clothes and sharing his space, she finally laid her hand on top of his.

Bob had brought her food. A simple sandwich and something to drink. He placed it on the coffee table and gave her a moment to say something, anything.

But she was silent, staring ahead. Bob turned to leave. He wasn't annoyed, but sad. He didn't think he'd miss her this much when she was in the same room.

As he turned to walk back into the kitchen. She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Thank you," she whispered, eyes pleading. Bob could only guess as to what she was pleading for. It was understanding she needed, and it was understanding she was going to get.

The second week came and went. Bob didn't make a comment about how she hadn't gone into work. Hadn't been able to contact them without a phone. It was on that second week that Bob realised she hadn't contacted anyone. None of her family, friends, knew she was staying with him.

At the end of the second week, she realised something. How long had it been since she had her period? The pill would have stopped her cycle, sure, but she should have been back on it by now, right? Then, why the hell wasn't she?

She didn't remember walking to the store while Bob was at work, didn't know how she got there. Her mind was blank as she bought the tests and headed back to Bob. It never hit her how long the walk was, didn't hit her that her legs were aching.

But she sat in the bathroom, looking at the three tests in her hands.

Fucking positive. All of them. She stared and stared, back against the bathtub.

It wasn't real, couldn't have been real.

Time passes weirdly when you're in that sort of state. Unaware of her surroundings she sat there for hours.

She didn't hear it when Bob opened the front door, didn't hear it when Bob called her name. She didn't answer as he ran around, desperately searching for her. Even when he stepped into the bathroom, it was like she didn't know.

Not until he was crouched in front of her, concern written on his face. "Talk to me," he said gently, before he looked down at the plastic sticks in her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath. As gently as he could, Bob took the tests from her hands. He'd expected that to have her flinching, but she was still. "It's okay," he whispered, placing his hands into her own.

The first tear fell, but she was still silent. Bob was careful as he reached up and wiped it away. When he pulled away, she followed him, chasing after his touch until she was resting against him.

Bob didn't move her from the bathroom floor, not yet. He sat beside her with his back against the bath tub and pulled her into his side. With her head against his chest, she let herself cry. Sobs shook her body, but Bob didn't get go at her, fingers moving up and down her spine.

He didn't say anything, and for that she was grateful. He just let her cry until she had no more tears to fall. And then, when she was still, tears no longer rolling down her cheeks, Bob looked over to the tests he had discarded on the floor.

Positive. They were both positive.

He didn't ask the obvious question, didn't ask her what she wanted to do as he helped her stand and led her to the couch. Her legs shook with every step, and he didn't blame her. He couldn't imagine it, being tied to someone like that.

Especially not someone like Ken.

Bob sat her down and wrapped her in a blanket. He turned towards the kitchen as she pulled the blanket closer, held it tighter. But he didn't get very far before she was grabbing him, pulling him back. "Stay," she croaked, eyes desperate, pleading.

He crouched in front of her and kissed the back of her hand. "Let me get you some water, doll," he whispered, the nickname slipping through.

She nodded and, reluctantly, let go of him. Bob was as quick as he could, poured the water into a mug and walked it back over to her.

He sat beside her and handed the water. Watching the way her hands shook as she lifted it to her lips, he knew he'd made the right choice in the mug.

"Can... we watch something?" She asked, her voice somewhat hesitant.

Bob swallowed down a shuddering breath. "Sure we can," he said, voice soft, as if she was some kind of frightened animal. Essentially, she was. Any louder and Bob was sure she would have been hiding back in the bathroom.

He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and sat back beside her, arm resting on the back of the couch. If she wanted to curl into him he could, but it was completely down to her. "What do you want to watch, Doll?"

"Star Wars?" She asked, looking down at her stolen shirt. How long until it stopped fitting? How long until she had a bump stretching out Han Solo's face? Her eyes shut at the thought.

Bob nodded his head. "What are you thinking, original trilogy or prequels?"

"Not the sequels?"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that."

She giggled, actually giggled, at him. "Fucking dork," she giggled and leaned against him.

It was a stark contrast to the scene Bob had come home to. She had her head on his shoulder, legs over his lap as they made their way through the original Star Wars trilogy.

Bob opened his mouth, ready to spill some movie trivia, but he held back. That wasn't what she needed now.

"No, say it, Floyd," she mumbled as her fingers absentmindedly played with the bottom of his shirt.

He didn't hold back after that. No, he told her every piece of Star Wars trivia he knew.

After they'd gotten through A New Hope, Bob started on Empire Strikes Back as he went to make dinner. It was simple, just egg on toast. All that mattered to Bob was that she ate it; he could make something proper tomorrow.

But, when he returned to the couch, she was already asleep, curled around the spot where he was. The space was still there for him, ready to slip back into. He let out a sigh as he placed her plate onto the coffee table and gently shook her shoulder. "C'mon, Doll. Y' need to wake up and eat something."

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "There y' are," he said with a small smile. Bob grabbed the plate from the coffee table and placed it in her lap. "Eat up, you can sleep after."

"Okay," she squeaked and dug in.

She didn't finish all of it, but that was okay. As soon as she was done and holding up her stomach, Bob took the plate and put it on the coffee table. He slipped back into his seat and she fell against him once again, promptly falling asleep.

"Ready?" Bob asked as he pulled the truck up around the corner from her old apartment.

The apartment Ken still lived in.

Sucking in a breath, she rested her hand on her swollen stomach and nodded. When had she gotten this big? It was like she had ballooned over night. With every touch the baby was kicking. She couldn't have been that far along yet, could she?

She looked at Bob as his hand came to rest on her bulging stomach.

She nodded and Bob climbed out of the truck. He opened her door, took her hand and helped her step out. "You've got this," he said, his hand squeezing hers.

But she didn't have this. She couldn't have had this. This was maybe the scariest thing she'd ever done.

Bob stayed behind her as she walked up the stairs to her old apartment. Even half way up the stairs she was already exhausted. Bob simply took her hand and supported her to the door of her own apartment.

She couldn't bring herself to knock on the door. She raised her fist, but could go much further than that. Desperately she turned to the man sweet man beside her. "I-I can't."

But Bob was happy to do it for her. He knocked on the door, remaining beside her as Ken pulled the door open.

Ken, who she hadn't spoken to since Bob, Jake and Bradley had saved her from the apartment. She thought it had only been a number of weeks, but, looking at her stomach, it could have been a full nine months.

"Holy shit," said Ken as he crushed the beer can in his hands.

Bob couldn't help but clench his jaw as he looked at Ken. That asshole, the reason she was knocked up and miserable. The baby was probably going to come out with red devil horns, a tail, and a want to set things on fire.

He looked at her, completely ignoring Bob. "She's just here for her stuff," Bob said, but Ken was still ignoring him.

"Come here, Barbie." He reached his hand out towards her and grabbed a hold of her wrists. His grip was so tight, she couldn't pull back if she tried. But she wasn't trying. Why wasn't she trying? Why wasn't she desperate to get away from him?

And why wasn't Bob helping her?

He just watched as Ken pulled her into the apartment and shut the door. Bob was still on the other side of the door when Ken hit her again.

And then she went into labour. Ken watching as she struggled on the floor, Bob on the other side of the door, not trying to get in and help her.

And then she had the screaming, crying bundle in her arms. But, when she looked down at her baby, there were no devil horns and she didn't have a tail. She was a perfect little girl.

But she couldn't protect her from Ken.

Taglist: @nurse-sainz

@not-nyasa

@burningwitchprincess

@darksparklesficrecs

@primroseluna

@littlemsbumblebee

@wretchedmo

@imaginecrushes

@calpalsbestie

@hiireadstuff

@lyn-js

@emma8895eb

@teacupsandtopgun

@finnydraws

@writtingrose

@afriendlyneighbourhoodhufflepuff

@mp0625

@els-marvelvsp

[wisheduponastar]

Not like pipeweed after all (Gen, 4.5k)

For Day 5 of @tolkienfamilyweek. Prompt : Found Family

Pippin has run out of long-bottom leaf, and it turns out so has Merry. They try and persuade Strider to find some for them, and he does. It turns out, however, this substitute isn’t exactly what they have in mind - their pipeweed isn’t normally this strong. Luckily, they’re around friends - and Boromir is here for them.

Or~ Pippin & Merry accidentally get high, but Boromir is there for them - and has to put up with shenanigans.

Read on Ao3

Ah, so it's not explicitly found family, but tell me they're not brothers-

He had packed far too lightly for this trip, Pippin reflected as he hoisted his pack further up his shoulders. Not that it, in any way, stopped his pack from being much too heavy. Now it was just filled with food, and things for everyone - rather than just for him. What he wouldn’t give to go back to his younger self. Well, younger self was slightly rich - it had been only about three months since he left the shire, three months and a bit.

He hadn’t been counting, especially as days in Rivendell seemed to move so unusually. Sam would almost certainly know, however, if Pippin were to ask him. But the main thing was what Pippin would say to his younger self. He wouldn’t tell him not to go on the quest - for it was going fairly well so far.

Pippin broke off his thoughts for a few seconds, simply looking around. Strider, well, Aragorn, was at the front of the group and in conversation with Gandalf. Also in front of him was Merry, who was currently talking to Boromir - captain of Gondor. And heir to… the stewardship of it? Merry and Pippin had asked Boromir about it once, but he wasn’t very willing to answer - which was rather unusual, as he normally talkative when talking about his hometown. Home city. Gondor was too big to be called a town, apparently.

Turning on his heel as he walked, Pippin spun round to observe who was behind him. Immediately behind Pippin and joining him in the, if he did say so himself, rather respectable, middle were Frodo and Sam - both walking and talking rather cheerfully. Then was Gimli, and then Legolas. Both looked as if they wanted to guard the rear, but neither wanted to be walking exactly next to each other - the awkward two-step inbetween them their compromise.

Grinning slightly, Pippin turned around again, jogging a small amount to catch up to Boromir and Merry.

“Merry, you can’t just leave me!” He cried, grinning and waving slightly as he made pace with the two of them.

Breaking off from the conversation, Merry titled his head to look behind him, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow, eh Pip?”

��My pack’s heavier,” Pippin defended, although he was unsure of whether it was true. They had been given almost the same amount of things, so it really depended on what his fellow hobbit had packed.

“I wish my pack was heavier,” said Merry, suddenly mood-swinging to somewhat forlorn, and wistful.

Boromir looked down, slight concern in his eyes, “How so? I assure you we have enough food to last all of us this journey.”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” and with just those words most of Merry’s more cheerful attitude was back, “It’s just, I’ve smoked the last of my longbottom leaf - my pack just doesn’t feel the same without it.”

He broke off briefly from his mourning, and looked up at the sky, “I wish I’d brought more of it, or re-stocked at Rivendell.”

“I don’t think the elves are big on smoking,” observed Pippin, “But yes, if I could go back and tell younger me one thing - it would be to pack more longbottom leaf.”

“Truly?” Boromir laughed as he asked, surprised at how simple a hobbit's desire could be, but also with some good-natured envy. To have such little regrets about leaving, that the main thing you’d change was how much leaf you packed.

“See, Boromir,” Merry looked up, “You wouldn’t have any longbottom leaf, would you?”

Boromir shook his head, “No, but I am not completely sure what it is.”

“Here,” Pippin said, rummaging around the various add-ons to his bag, and finding the pot he stored his pipeweed in. Carefully, Pippi reached in and took the smallest amount he could - still enough for a smoke, but not enough for anything more. Holding it aloft, he gestured to Boromir, “This is longbottom leaf. Proper good stuff, it is.”

Boromir peered at it for a second, before recognition sparked in his eyes, “Ah. We call it sweet galenas.”

“D’you smoke it?”

“Not that I am aware,” was the honest answer, as Boromir did not engage in too much smoking or drinking, especially not of late, “It is only noted for its sweet fragrance.”

Merry looked slightly crestfallen, “So there isn’t much hope you’ll have any on you?”

“I am afraid not,” Boromir seemed to muse over the problems for a second, “Although Aragorn has a pipe, does he not? He may have some, or at least something similar.”

“You, Boromir, are a genius!” Declared Merry, a grin already on his face - eager to speed away and ask.

“Yes, a credit to all of Gondor,” tacked on Pippin who, although still having some pipeweed left, sped off with even more urgency than Merry - the two briefly leaving Boromir alone to smile after them and walk slightly faster, waiting for them to return.

“Aragorn! Aragorn!” Was the chorus that came from the two of them, causing the ranger to turn round and stare - conversation with Gandalf broken off. Merry had the decency to avert his eyes and look sheepish, however Pippin did not - until Merry nudged him worriedly.

“Ow- Merry,” he started, before cutting himself off and looking down slightly, “Ah, Gandalf. We didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

There was good intention in Pippin’s words, before his eyes suddenly lit up with a new idea, “Say - Gandalf, you don’t have any pipeweed, do you? See me and Merry have almost finished-”

“Merry, don’t nudge me that hard!”

“Pip. We��re trying to be polite, charming,” Merry looked sideways, then back at Pippin again, “We’re trying to charm Gandalf and Strider into giving up their pipeweed, not whatever you’re doing!”

“Ah - so that it was you are after,” there was no accusation in Aragorn’s voice, just lightheartedness, “Well, I am sorry my friends - but I have no more left at the moment. I dropped the last of my Southlinch when we were ambushed by crebain.”

“Southlinch?” Questioned Merry curiously.

“A type of pipeweed, grown in Bree,” supplied Aragorn, a warmer smile, “Have the two of you none left?”

“I have a little…” confessed Pippin, “But I want to save it for a special occasion, one of our great victories. Or maybe a horrific tragedy of some kind.”

“Horrific tragedy?” Echoed Gandalf disapprovingly, “Do not think so darkly, Peregrin Took!”

While the small scolding took place, in which Pippin did have the decency to look immediately down this time, Aragorn seemed to be thinking and observing the situation around him. There were a few moments of silence as they walked, Aragorn staring at the plant life before eventually he spoke, “You know, Master Brandybuck, I may be able to find something similar to pipeweed. If you are interested?”

“Of course!” Was the immediate answer from both hobbits, at the same time. Another chuckle came from Aragorn, and he nodded, “We are on the lookout for a plant called wild dagga, or leonurus. It can be from your to my height, and has a dark green stem with bright orange flower-like parts to it. Should you see something like that, alert me.”

Nodding, and promising reassurances, the hobbits smiled and chattered among themselves before retreating quietly back to Boromir.

“Good news my friend, I assume?” Boromir questioned as they went back, taking note of their large grins.

“Oh yes!” Answered Merry, “I’ve found a way to get us some more pipeweed. Or something close to it, at least. We’re looking out for a plant, it can be from my to your height, and it’s orange.”

“Anything else?” Boromir asked with sincerity, quickly scanning the surroundings to see if a plant like that would immediately appear.

“I don’t think so,” Merry trailed off for a second, looking to his friend, “That was it, wasn’t it Pippin?”

“I’m fairly certain,” was the confident response, “Shouldn’t be too hard, there aren’t that many orange flowers near here, are there?”

“I haven’t seen any,” supplied Boromir, the closest any of them could get to confirmation. Together, the three continued to talk for a bit about various herbs, and then their surroundings - which inevitably led to talk of the shire, which in turn prompted talk of Gondor. Eventually, Pippin looked up and asked, “Boromir, do you smoke often?”

“Not often, no,” Boromir answered, “It is harder to get than most ales, if I should have the opportunity to smoke or drink.”

“I suppose being a lord-”

“Steward,” Boromir corrected quickly, then looked apologetic, “I am sorry, please go on Pippin.”

“No problems,” was the cheerful answer, “But I suppose being a steward you wouldn’t drink much, would you?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Boromir decided to be frank, “I probably drank as much as the next person in my guard, probably slightly less. We had responsibility, so we almost certainly drank less than hobbits.”

Merry and Pippin exchanged annoyed glances, then Merry spoke up, “We didn’t drink that much. Besides, I didn’t know you could get ale in a pint before I left the shire.”

“Well, if you take into account your body size compared to mine,” began Boromir, before stopping that train of thought and instead contributing, “Well, I have certainly smoked less.”

“Only because you didn’t have as good leaf,” Pippin responded, in a somewhat sympathetic way. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you the art of the pipe, won’t we Merry?”

“Oh yes,” there was pride in Merry’s voice, “D’you know, us hobbits were the first to put pipeweed in pipes?”

“Truly?” Asked Boromir, “You hobbits never cease to surprise, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you!” Merry said, making eye-contact with Boromir - and genuinely smiling. The two hobbits exchanged grins under the man’s gaze, a large grin spreading almost ear to ear - both of their faces mimicking each other.

Then they fell back into the easy rhythm of talking about whatever caught their fancy. When Pippin started the conversation, it was to complain about the long roads - which led onto discussions of horses and various modes of transportation (for a few minutes there was heated debate between Merry and Pippin as to whether Boromir would be able to ride a Shire pony or not). Eventually Merry had butted in, instead beginning a talk about the mayor of Shire, and then its various laws - and then the Gondor legal system (which, to be fair, was mainly the hobbits listing progressively more obscure actions before asking if they were legal).

When it was Boromir’s turn to start the conversation, it would also usually be about the Shire - or about hobbit life in general. He was more curious about their general lives, and the peace of the Shire, just how different it was to Gondor. At one their conversation started on where Boromir should stay, if he ever visited the Shire. Well, he said ‘if’, Merry and Pippin said ‘when’. It was during their conversation that the plant was spotted.

“Lobelia’s got a rather large ceiling, hasn’t she Merry,” observed Pippin, “D’you think she’d let Boromir stay at hers?”

“Pippin, are you suggesting we inflict Lobelia on Boromir?” Was the retort, “We want him to like the Shire, not- oh wait, I think I see the plant!”

Both of his companions' heads turned to see where his gaze was following. About ten or so metres away was a patch of the plant. Wild dagga, Pippin was pretty sure. This variety was taller than him, but shorter than Boromir - coming away at about the five foot mark. Overly large for a plant, Pippin decided, especially if it wasn’t even a tree.

“D’you think it’s the right thing, Boromir?” Asked Pippin, looking up briefly as he spoke before returning to stare at the plant.

“Herblore is not my expertise,” was the start of the answer, but Boromir smiled, “However it does look like what you described. I doubt there would be any harm in asking if they are the correct plants.”

“They look like the dagga to me,” contributed Merry, “Wait here - I’ll ask Aragorn!”

With that, Merry sped up again - a short and sudden burst of speed, before it quickly descended into a jog - damn this backpack. Still trying to catch up, the ranger and the wizard had walked awfully far ahead, Merry instead called out, “Wait! We think we’ve found the wild…” his mind briefly drew a blank as to what it was called, “The plant you were talking about!”

This seemed to catch Aragorn’s attention, for he nodded briefly to Gandalf and then began to walk back towards the hobbits, “So, my friends, you say you’ve found some?”

“Yes, over there!” Merry pointed out the blooming orange stalks, smiling, “That is the plant you wanted, right?”

“It is, that is very well observed master hobbit.” With thanks, and a promise to share it out equally among all who wanted it, Aragorn traversed off-the-path a little, going up to the plants and taking off the leaves and flowers.

“Will you try some Boromir?” Questioned Pippin, looking up at the man as they began walking.

Boromir seemed to consider it a second, “I am not sure. You should try some first, I will trust your judgement.”

“Really?” Asked Merry, before blushing slightly and looking at the path in front, “I mean, of course. We are experts on pipeweed, aren’t we Pip?”

“Aye Merry, that we are, that we are,” Pippin nodded on this point, in almost an imitation of Gandalf. Slightly less wise, but the spirit of all-knowing was there. Enough to make Boromir smile and laugh to himself, and make Merry laugh outright - immediately teasing his companion.

The lighter mood continued throughout the day with no further interruptions, except Boromir managing to spot another two patches of wild dagga. It was nice for Boromir to see the flower before them, because he could look down as he announced it. See right when their excitable grins appeared on their faces, and watch as they exchanged a glance then looked up at him, thanking him. Then run off to pester Aragorn about more of the stuff being found.

Eventually, they could see Aragorn and Frodo (for the marching order was prone to change throughout the day) stopping up ahead of them. Frodo setting his pack on the floor, and sitting down with some relief. Aragorn busy taking sticks from the surroundings and striking his tinderbox. Pippin didn’t even try to disguise the large smile that came upon his face, “Are we stopping for the night?”

“Yes, we are almost at Caradhras, I want us to be rested for it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Pippin said, looking at Merry, “Where d’you want to set up camp, Merry?”

“Probably near the fire,” Merry responded, briefly looking to Boromir for approval, which the man gave by nodding. He was, in some ways, touched that the hobbits thought highly enough of him to ask him questions. Even if it was only where to set up their bedrolls.

Looking around, Boromir shed the pack he was carrying and set it down beside his feet, also dropping the shield for the time being. His sword he kept on him at all times. Not just because he did not trust the wilderness of Middle Earth, but also because he didn’t trust Merry and Pippin. He’d let them use training swords, and then when he’d left his sword for a second to fetch a sharpening stone - he’d come back to find Merry holding it. That had given him much more of a fright than he was ever prepared to admit.

“So, Aragorn, how exactly is it you use this plant then?” Merry eventually spoke up, for it was Aragorn who still had all the plants. “I assume you still smoke it, like you do pipeweed?”

“Yes, I am just drying it out now,” Aragorn nodded to the fire, which had a number of smaller twigs over it - leaves and flowers skewered to them, and drying out. “It will not be a very sophisticated process, but we rangers have used it often enough.”

“The…” Merry struggled to find the word for a second, “The rangers smoke this often?” “When you are in the wilderness for months at a time, yes. Although sometimes pipeweed will grow in the wild, and we’ll use that instead.”

“Pipeweed grows in the wild?” Merry said indignantly, “We could’ve kept an eye out for that.”

“I have only ever seen it grow in the wilds near Gondor,” explained Aragorn, inclining his head slightly towards Boromir, “And even then, only near the city.”

“I still can’t believe you’d never thought to smoke it,” said Pippin, now also looking at Boromir.

“I imagine some would have,” admitted Boromir, “But the discovery of some new novelty to smoke was not exactly news one would share with your captain.”

“Why not?” Asked Pippin, rather sincerely.

Boromir simply shook his head and laughed a little, “Let me say… our worlds work very differently Pippin.”

“Suit yourself,” Pippin briefly smiled again, before turning to Aragorn again, “So, how long until we can use it?”

“About ten minutes or so. It still needs to dry out.”

“What needs to dry out?” Legolas had finally arrived, and was somewhat putting down his belongings, while simultaneously looking like he could run off now and be fine for the next couple of days. Actually, Boromir reflected, he probably could. Elves needed less sustenance, and Legolas’s bow and quiver were still on his back, so he could’ve made it. Boromir was fairly certain, however, that the elf would not suddenly abandon them.

“The wild dagga,” Merry answered, looking to Aragorn briefly for confirmation, “Me and Pippin have run out of longbottom leaf, so we’re going to try and smoke that instead.”

The elf wrinkled his nose slightly at that, “I have never understood smoking, surely it cannot taste nice?”

“It’s not really the taste,” Pippin tried to explain, “It’s the experience, the feeling. And it isn’t that bad!”

“Maybe not for hobbits,” conceded Legolas, “But for elves, the smell is most unpleasant.”

“Oh. Does us doing,” Merry gestured vaguely, pipe now in his hands, “It… does it bother you?”

“Not very, it is much more bearable in open air, besides,” Legolas glanced at Gandalf, “I have grown more used to it. A certain… visitor is rather fond of pipeweed.”

All of the hobbits laughed at that, with Merry observing almost out-loud, “And to think hobbits have been doing something longer than wizards. Although I daresay you’ll be better at it than us by now.”

There was a second as Gandalf deliberately avoided eye-contact, in a somewhat modest way, before breaking out in a smile and acknowledging it - sending a smoke ring that soon morphed into the shape of a star shooting around them.

“Well, we can do it best without using magic, ay Merry?” Said Pippin, nudging Merry conspicuously with a grin. “Aragorn, is the… whatever you called it ready?”

“Patience, Master Took,” was Aragorn’s immediate response, but he lent over the fire and then smiled, “But as luck would have it - they are. Do you wish to smoke them?”

“Do I wish to smoke them?” Echoed Merry, somewhat sarcastic - somewhat indignant. “Anything we need to know before we start?”

“It has always behaved like normal pipeweed for me,” answered Aragorn, “So I would say no.”

With the expertise of a knowledgeable smoker, Merry leaned over slightly to the now dried leaves - quickly getting out his pipe as well and busying himself by lighting it (and trying to take what he presumed to be the better leaf from Pippin).

“So, Pippin, Merry, is it good?” Asked Boromir after they’d let out a few smoke rings, still holding true to his thought that he would try some - if they deemed it appropriate.

Turning his whole head, even though Boromir was sitting almost directly next to him, Pippin looked up to the taller man, “Hmmm… I don’t know Merry, but I’d say so?”

There was a very thoughtful frown on Merry’s face, that suddenly split into a large grin, “Yes Pip. Without a doubt. Here Boromir, try mine.”

Merry smiled again, then held out the pipe to someone who was decidedly not Boromir - but instead Legolas. There was a second as the elf sat there, waiting for the hobbit to correct his mistake, before Legolas politely coughed, eyes gazing instead to where Boromir was sitting.

“Boromir!” Merry exclaimed suddenly, almost throwing down the pipe and (finally) held it in the direction of the man he intended, “You looked so pretty as a blond…”

There was now a forlorn tone in Merry’s voice, and his eyes became ever so slightly glassy - although Boromir was fairly certain this wasn’t because of Boromir not, in fact, being blond.

“I… I have never been blond Merry,” he gently corrected, frowning at the hobbit’s state of mind.

“No, you were just then!” It was remarkable how determined Merry could be, “When you were pretending to be Legolas. You’re a beautiful blond Boromir.”

Pippin gave a non-committal, although positive hum, nodding along to all of Merry’s words sagely, an image that was slightly ruined by the fact he was staring simply at the sky. Pippin then looked down slightly, at Boromir again, and opened his mouth - to say nothing for a few seconds, before hazily mumbling “D’you agree?”

“Agree? With what?” There was a gentleness in Boromir’s voice, as well as poorly disguised concern, “Tell me again.”

“So,” Pippin began, “It’s essentially just…”

There was a second as he trailed off again, instead just staring at the ground, “That… probably sums it up. I’m sorry, is that still confusing?”

“No, not at all,” Boromir was probably over-enunciating his words now, unsure if the hobbits could register them, “You should probably put down the pipes now, and go to sleep.”

“How’re we suppose to go to Mordor if we sleep?” Questioned Merry, although he almost rolled off the log - now lying on the floor, “Didn’t think of that - did you Boromir?”

Pippin snickered slightly, “Merry, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor - very bad for your spine.”

“Is it really?” Merry asked genuinely, looking up for someone again, “An… adult, who isn’t me, is this true?”

“You do need to sleep on a bedroll, Merry,” Boromir explained, guiding the hobbit up and getting his pack out for him (stubbornly ignoring the fact Merry was now simply lying on his feet). “Here, lie on this.”

“You’re so nice Boromir,” Merry said, sitting down onto the bedroll,

“Merry look. We’re not sleeping on the ground now, are we?”

“I’m not Merry. You’re Merry.”

“No, I’m Meriadoc. I don’t do nicknames Pip.”

“You just did.”

“No, your name’s just Pip. We didn’t tell you, thought it’d make you sad.”

“That’s not true!” Pippin exclaimed, with almost genuine (although certainly high-infused) uncertainty.

“Yes it is, isn’t it…” Merry looked around, eyes falling on Boromir again, “It’s true isn't it Boromir. You’ll know.” He turned to Pippin again, “Boromir’s very knowledgeable about your name.”

Shaking his head, Boromir decided to try and ignore the conversation, instead turning, with a growing mixture of concern and anger, to Aragorn, “Aragorn, what did you give them?”

“Wild dagga - my friend,” was the honest response, not helped by the fact it sounded like the ranger was trying not to laugh, “I had no idea it would affect the hobbits like this - I thought they would react to it like pipeweed!”

“And yet they are,” Boromir looked again at the hobbits, who had sat up and were talking in very hushed voices, “Frodo, this is not normal, is it?”

“No,” Frodo answered, still looking at Pippin, “Although they’ve behaved like this before - but usually after having a lot more pipeweed - or drinking more than they should.”

“It will probably be over by morning, Boromir sir,” spoke up Sam, looking in concern at the two younger hobbits. “I can watch over them, maybe make them something.”

“I will watch over them Sam, do not worry,” something in Boromir made him reluctant to go to sleep, especially when Merry and Pippin were vulnerable, but he smiled tightly, “Although they would probably benefit from something to eat.”

“Of course” for a while there was busying around the camp as people dug through their packs, contributing various things to make a stew out of. Boromir would have helped more, but he did have his work cut out for him. While being affected - the hobbits seemed to have developed a fascination with fire, along with a startling lack of self-preservation.

Boromir would have possibly cut more firewood, or stoked it when it was down - but trying to hold Pippin down while still being gentle (so he could not pick up one of the flaming logs) was a task that required more attention, and was probably more important.

“Merry, Pippin, let us sit over there,” Boromir glanced left into the clearing, “It will be better for your…”

“Eyes?” Suggested Merry, still smiling slightly and getting up, “C’mon Pip. We’re not going to Mordor anymore, we’re going over there.”

“My name isn’t Pip. It’s Peregrin,” Pippin protested, although both of them followed Boromir over. There was at least one issue solved - the hobbits could no longer launch themselves directly in the fire.

“Do you have a second name, Boromir?” For some reason, Merry had phrased it as more of a statement than a question, but he answered anyway.

“Of course I do-”

“What is it?”

“I think you look like a… Varno,” decided Pippin, after several long seconds of looking into Boromir’s eyes.

“Oh yes - I can see that!” Chimed in Merry, “That is your name, isn’t it Boromir?”

“No, it is not,” said Boromir, with all the patience that he could muster at the time.

“Well it should be!” The statement was said with such clarity, that for a second Boromir seriously considered its merits - before shaking his head and sighing.

“Boromir, your food,” it was Aragorn - standing next to him with three wooden bowls of stew, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the hobbits. “Will you be eating with us?”

“I am afraid they will still try to launch themselves into the fire,” Boromir admitted, casting a glance backwards. The two of them had begun laughing now, a high and carefree one - one that seemed infectious. “We will eat over here.”

“You are sure, my friend?”

“Yes it will be…” There was another glance backwards, “I am sure it will be fine.”

“We’re very responsible Strider, sir” added Pippin, who frowned as Merry suddenly began to laugh.

“Merry - I am.”

“No you’re not - neither of us are!”

“Oh,” the thought struck Pippin, and suddenly he laughed a little as well, “No - we aren’t.”

The rest of the night was just as chaotic - but in most ways Boromir did not mind. There was something nice about the two hobbits like these - even if it was just because of how much they smiled, or how much more affectionate they were. And if Pippin had insisted on a story to go to sleep, well that was his business - and Boromir was sure Pippin wouldn’t remember Boromir telling him one anyway.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Of Princes and Witches (Rewrite) Chapter 9- Legolas Greenleaf x OC

Legolas Greenleaf x Alphine Barrowes

Description: After tracking Merry and Pippin for three days Alphine, Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli meet the Riders of Rohan, where they learn some upsetting news.

Word Count: 2.5k

Alphine heard footsteps behind them, but she was not afraid. She’d grown to recognize Gimli and Legolas’ footsteps over the course of their journey. Aragorn carefully stood, a frown on his face. 

“They will look for his coming from the White Tower…but he will not return,” he muttered sadly. 

The Witch’s eyes stayed on Boromir's face. He looked so peaceful now. His eyes were still open and glazed over, staring straight into hers. It was overwhelming almost to the point of physically hurting, so she carefully lifted her hand, closing the man’s eyes with the utmost gentleness. It seemed that his eyes closing finally made her understand that he was actually gone because the sight brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. 

She turned her head painfully, not wishing to see the person she’d grown to see as a friend so lifeless, but she was instead met with the brightest blue set of Elven eyes. Legolas had managed to walk up to her without her realizing it, and he now sat crouched beside her. His gaze broke from hers, but they stayed on her form as he began to examine her for any wounds. A worried look appeared on his face when he noticed the wound in her left side. 

“You’re hurt,” he muttered in concern, earning a weak nod from the girl. 

“I made a mistake… became distracted during battle,” she explained, eyes subconsciously moving back to Boromir. Legolas noticed that, and grabbed her hand so her attention would shift back to him. 

“We must bind it before it gets infected,” he informed her. The girl nodded slowly then shakily began to stand, only to be stopped by the Elf. 

“Stay down until I’m done,” he instructed carefully. “The bleeding will increase if you’re standing.” Alphine nodded, holding back a hiss when he tore a piece off of his cloak and began cleaning the wound. It took him no time at all to bind the wound with a second piece of his cloak, then he stood up and held out a hand for her. 

Once she was standing Legolas suddenly crouched again and did something she couldn’t quite see. She was too exhausted to question it, however, and instead followed the others to the river’s shore. Once they reached the tree line Legolas sped up a bit and walked over to one of the remaining boats. 

“If we are quick, we will catch Frodo and Sam before nightfall,” he said quickly. When Aragorn didn’t answer at first, Alphine looked at him. The man was looking towards the far shore where Frodo and Sam’s boat was. Both she and Legolas immediately understood what he was thinking. 

“You mean not to follow them…” the Elf muttered. 

“Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands,” Aragorn answered simply, earning a frown from Alphine.

“Then it has all been in vain,” Gimli grumbled. “The Fellowship has failed.” 

“Not if we hold true to each other,” the Man protested. “We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, not while we have strength left.” He paused to pull a hunting knife out of his pack and strap it on before looking at them again. 

“Leave all that can be spared behind,” he continued grimly. “We travel light. Let's hunt some Orc.” His conclusion excited the Dwarf because he laughed heartily. 

“Yes!” His enthusiasm earned a weak smile from Alphine as she strapped any weapons and other supplies she’d need to herself. Once everyone was ready they followed Aragorn back into the woods, following the Uruk-hai trail.

Alphine watched as Aragorn laid on the ground, ear pressed against a large rock embedded in the ground. It was a rather amusing sight to see him looking so serious while he was doing something so odd looking, but she knew that he was trying to listen to the footfall of the enemy. So, she remained silent. 

“Their pace has quickened,” Aragorn finally said before looking at the Witch. “They must have caught our scent. Hurry!” With that he was up and continuing their journey with Alphine and Legolas following close behind.

“Come on, Gimli,” the latter called. The Dwarf had become winded long ago, so he was merely trailing behind them breathlessly.

“Three days and nights pursuit,” he panted out. “No food, no rest, and no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell.” The trio ahead of him disregarded his complaining as they came upon a mass amount of footprints. Alphine suddenly stopped in her tracks when something gleaming in the sunlight caught her eye. Her brows furrowed in curiosity as she crouched down and picked the object up. It was an Elven brooch, one she recognized as the very brooch each of the Fellowship was gifted by Lord Celeborn.

“Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall,” she mentioned as Aragorn stopped beside her, Legolas following a moment later. 

“They may yet be alive,” the Elf said optimistically as Aragorn examined the brooch. 

“Less than a day ahead of us,” he added. “Come.” Legolas called back to Gimli once again as he and the Witch followed the Man. The Dwarf merely complained once again as they arrived at a brow of a hill looking down on the plains below. 

“Rohan. Home of the Horse-Lords,” Aragorn said. “There’s something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us.” Legolas ran ahead of them, stopping at the top of the hill. 

“Legolas! What do your Elf eyes see?” Alphine questioned. 

“The Uruks turn northeast,” he called back, pausing momentarily. “They are taking the Hobbits to Isengard!” Aragorn and Alphine shared a look. 

“Saruman.” 

The quartet continued their task of following the Uruk-hai soldiers. They ended up traveling into the night and well into the next morning. All of a sudden Legolas stopped, nearly making Alphine run into him as she’d been right behind him. She opened her mouth to question him but stopped when he turned to look at where they’d just come from. 

“A red sun rises,” he said, noting the pink sky above them. “Blood has been spilled this night.” The Witch shot him a confused and concerned look, though Aragorn continued to lead them on. 

After a short while of running the four of them stopped and looked at the tracks on the ground. Alphine’s ears suddenly perked up after hearing something in the distance. It sounded like thundering hooves and distant neighing. She looked at Aragorn when he beckoned to the others, and they followed him to hide behind a group of large rocks. Just in time, too, because moments after they hid, a large group of Men atop horses thundered past them over the brow of the hill. Once they had all passed Aragorn suddenly came out of hiding, Legolas and Gimli following him. 

Alphine, meanwhile, hesitated to come out. She hadn’t been around so many Men in years, and she was nervous that this group was not on the side of good. Legolas, having noticed her lack of movement, offered her a reassuring smile and held out his hand for her. 

“Come on. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said softly. The girl stared at his hand for a moment, then ultimately took it. She trusted him enough to keep his word. She stepped into the sunlight as Aragorn called out to the horsemen. 

“Riders of Rohan,” he called, voice echoing over the landscape. “What news from the Mark?” The leader of the horsemen lifted his spear and the riders circled around. They galloped back to the quartet and surrounded them with their spears drawn and aimed at them. The Witch felt herself tense up, eyes darkening as she looked around the group shortly before the leader rode through the horsemen and stopped in front of them. 

“What business does an Elf, a Witch, a Man and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?” He questioned firmly. “Speak quickly!” 

“Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine,” Gimli answered. The leader dismounted from his horse and walked towards him. 

“I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood a little higher from the ground,” he shot back with a glare. Legolas wasted no time in drawing an arrow and aiming it at his head. 

“You would die before your stroke fell,” he snapped (surprising Gimli). The Rohirrim, in response, pointed their many spears at the Elf threateningly. That was more than enough for Alphine. She lifted her hands, forcing the rest of the riders to point their spears at their leader instead of Legolas. 

“Give me a reason to do it,” she hissed. “I dare you.” The leader looked surprised at the turn of events, then his dark eyes met hers. Their staredown lasted no more than a minute before Aragorn suddenly rested a hand on Alphine’s arm, carefully lowering it. 

“I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” he introduced in an attempt to ease the tension. “This is Gimli, son of Gloin, Alphine Barrowes, daughter of Cirrus Barrowes, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your King.” Alphine thought that the word ‘friend’ was being used rather loosely in her case, but for the sake of their task she decided to remain silent. The leader shook his head. 

“Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin,” he muttered, almost sadly, as he removed his helmet before motioning for the riders to raise their spears. Saruman has claimed the mind of the King, and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets.” 

“We are no spies. We track a part of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive,” Aragorn explained while shaking his head. A guilty sort of look crossed the leader’s face. 

“The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them in the night.” All at once every other noise faded to the background for Alphine. A chill shot up her spine and her hands grew clammy as Gimli spoke.

“But there were two Hobbits,” he said quickly. “Did you see two Hobbits with them?”

“They would be small, only children in your eyes,” Aragorn added urgently. The leader merely shook his head. 

“We left none alive,” he responded sympathetically, pointing behind them. “We piled the carcasses and burned them.” 

A small yet sorrow filled sob left the Witch’s lips upon turning to the smoking pile behind them and she covered her mouth with one hand. She felt her legs begin to buckle the longer she stared at the smoke, knowing that Merry and Pippin were two of the bodies being burned. Luckily Legolas seemed to know what was about to happen because his hands were already reaching out to carefully grip her arms and he shifted all her weight on him, practically holding her up.

“Dead?” Gimli asked in disbelief, earning a nod from the leader. 

“I am sorry.” Alphine had to physically stop herself from fully breaking down then and there, not wishing to cry in front of these Men. She felt Legolas lower his head, laying his forehead against her shoulder as a sign of both comfort and mourning. She turned her head away, biting the inside of her cheek as the leader whistled. 

“Hasufel! Arod!” He called, which in response made two horses walk up to him. “May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands.” With that, he put his helmet back on and mounted his horse, calling that they would ride north. The quartet watched the Rohirrim ride away in sullen silence. Once they were out of sight Aragorn moved to one of the horses. 

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to Alphine. She stared at it for a moment before hesitantly pulling away from the Elf and taking it. He guided her onto the horse before climbing up behind her as Gimli climbed onto the second one. Legolas got on the horse with Gimli, and off they were towards the scene of the Uruk slaying. 

Alphine barely waited for Aragorn to stop the horse before she hopped off. Gimli was right behind her, searching through the pile of burnt bodies with his axe. The Witch picked at her nails while she watched anxiously as Legolas and Aragorn dismounted their horses. After a moment the Dwarf’s axe clinked against something, and after a bit more digging he finally pulled a small belt out of the pile. 

“It’s one of their wee belts,” he muttered sadly. That was enough for Alphine’s legs to give beneath her. She hit the ground numbly as an anguished cry escaped her. It was no secret to anyone that Alphine had taken on a sort of maternal role for the Hobbits. It was very endearing and sometimes amusing for everyone to watch Alphine play along with their antics or comfort them when they find themselves missing home. She had formed a strong bond with them, and near the beginning of the quest she’d made a vow to herself that she would do her best to protect them no matter what happened. And she’d failed. 

“Hiro hyn hîdh ab wanath (May they find peace in death),” Legolas muttered as his head bowed. Aragorn fell to his knees, staring at the pile in disbelief and sorrow as Gimli shook his head sadly. 

“We failed them.” Alphine could barely focus on what was going on anymore, too caught up in her despair for her friends. This couldn’t be happening again. She’d already lost Gandalf and Boromir. She just couldn’t lose them too. It wasn’t fair.

“A Hobbit lay here,” she suddenly heard. “And the other.” Her brows furrowed in confusion as she faced Aragorn, who was staring at the ground intently. 

“They crawled,” he continued as he traced their tracks before standing up. “Their hands were bound.” He continued on, using clues around him to explain how their bonds had been cut, and how they ran away. Alphine scrambled to her feet and followed him along with Legolas and Gimli. 

“The tracks lead away from the battle…into Fangorn Forest,” he concluded as the four of them stopped at the treeline. 

“Fangorn?” The Dwarf questioned. “What madness drove them there?” 

“So there is a chance they are alive,” she asked hopefully. 

“In Fangorn Forest?” Gimli all but scoffed. “It’s practically unheard of! Many dangerous things lay in that forest.” 

“But it’s not impossible,” the Witch retorted. “That is enough for me.” With that she walked the rest of the way into the forest without waiting for the others, though she heard them behind her. Her hopes had been raised with Aragorn’s tracking skills, and now the possibility of Merry and Pippin being alive was enough to drive her into the unknown.