#he knows the plants of the shire like the back of his hand

[fistfuloflightning]

Be honest, Merry… where exactly did you get those? …And you didn’t think to check if they were poisonous?

Tolkientober Day 7: (courting) Customs

[shanks-the-wino]

Shanks X CisFem Reader

The Tour

"So, did you inherit this place or something?" your fingers brushed gently over a large grape leaf basking in the sunlight.

"You just refuse to believe I built this place on my own, hmm?" the redhead chuckled playfully, "Ok, well, I did have a little help. My grandfather passed away and left me some money. But this vineyard didn't already exist."

"How long did it take?" you glanced up to meet his onyx gaze.

His face contorted in thought as his fingers ruffled through his red locks, "Hm about three years to grow the plants. Maybe a year of planning and picking the plants before that. It's been almost 15 years since."

"So, you were younger than me when you started this little empire." your tone was almost incredulous.

"Empire is a bit much," he blushed.

"You have taken over this side of the mountains, and you've got the old man making wine tour packages. I think everyone who is anyone gets married here."

"It just happens to be a good place to have this sort of business that's all." he shrugged fiddling with the plant closest to him.

"So modest." you chuckled bringing his black pearls back up to you.

"You have to stay humble when you have your own business," a crooked smile curved his lips, "ya never know when it could all go away."

"Well, I think you'll be safe. There seems to always be a market for good wine." you stepped closer to the redhead.

"You think it's good?"

You swore if he had a tail it would have been wagging.

"The sample you gave me at the resort was more than good, in my unprofessional opinion." you smiled a bit bashfully which made Shanks' pulse race, "Not that it really means much."

Your stomach did a flip as his hand gently enveloped your shoulder and he leaned down into your personal space.

"F/N, your opinion means more than most." his tone was low and perhaps a bit too sincere, he immediately cleared his throat yanking you out the moment, "I... I mean as a consumer and all...y-you know."

"Right," you agreed with a chuckle, "just like, your average Joe kind of opinion."

A sigh deflated him, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Just giving you a hard time." your lopsided smile gave him butterflies and brought the brightness back to his expression.

"Alright, shall we continue?" he gestured to the golf cart you'd traveled across the vineyard in, "I believe I promised you a tasting."

The tasting room was located in the cellar, which sounded a lot less appealing than it actually was.  You let out a breath of awe as Shanks parked the cart and announced your arrival.

A doorway carved into the stone of the foothill of the mountains. It was curved and framed with wild flowers of all kinds. The short stone path leading to the thick wooden door was lined with your favorite, gorgeous irises that happened to be in full bloom. Bees and butterflies fluttered about happily.

Shanks watched you with a soft smile. This was an unexpectedly beautiful moment that he was incredibly grateful to have witnessed.

"I see why people get married or here." you murmured caressing one of the flowers in front of you.

"It's really fairytale like." he admitted having been told that by many brides.

"It's like the freaking Shire." the unfiltered thought just tumbled from your lips.

Shanks let out a soft laugh, "I've heard that a few times. I suppose it does look like a hobbit should be living inside."

You chuckled in relief, "Did you design it that way on purpose?"

"With Bilbo in mind?" that crooked smile was making you feel warm, "No, I just wanted something that looked organic and was functional for storage so we didn't have to get too high tech."

"High tech?" you echoed.

"I'll show you," he stepped forward opening the door into the dimly lit room, "storage should be between 55 and 70 degrees and relatively humid. It allows the wine to age at a steady rate and it's how it was done before modern technology was around."

You followed him into the rather large room taking in the high rounded walls lined with racks filled with bottles. In the center of the room was a counter with a sink and a rack of delicate fluted glassware of different sizes hanging above. Shanks watched you take in your surroundings happy that you seemed so interested.

"Would you like to try some?" he asked reaching for the stemware.

"Sure, but I'm driving." you leaned over the counter.

"Don't worry a tasting isn't meant to get you drunk." he was already searching for a bottle he had in mind, "Not that it was my intention."

"Well, now I'm worried." you jested making him turn back.

"I certainly hope I haven't given you that impression." he raised his scarred brow.

"That joke was in bad taste I guess." you blushed a bit embarrassed.

He couldn't have found you more adorable.

"I'm sorry," the redhead chuckled, "it wasn't, you just said it so matter-of-factly."

"My humor isn't always appreciated."

"It should be, I actually find it pretty charming." he placed a bottle with a worn label and a small pale between you, "How do you feel about cheese?"

Meeting his curious gaze with a confused expression you replied, "I'm lactose intolerant, but that doesn't really stop me."

He let out an endearing laugh, "Well, I'd rather not poison you, so why don't we stick to fruit, crackers and some charcuterie?"

"What's happening?" you questioned as he gathered items from the pantry and fridge across the room.

"It's all part of the experience." he answered placing grapes, strawberries, seasoned crackers, aged salami and prosciutto on a plate.

You watched him work with interest. This was by far the fanciest thing you'd ever done. As he placed the plate between you and unquarked the bottle it dawned on you that this was starting to feel very much like a date.

Be cool.

Be cool.

Be cool.

"You ok?" Shanks asked, "Ya kinda zoned out there."

"Yeah," you glanced away sheepishly, "I just didn't expect the afternoon to turn out this way."

Shanks studied you for a moment before looking down at the counter. Seeing you go bashful sent him into a bit of a panic.

He'd unintentionally set himself up with you on a casual afternoon date. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

"Well, I was happy to show you around, and I suppose it'll help at work now that you've been around the place." he was suddenly wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

It's not a date.

It's not a date.

It's not a date.

All romantic tension deflated immediately as your expression fell.

"Uh, right," you quickly smiled but it wasn't genuine, "I don't make many bookings since I work overnight but I can train the day shifts I guess."

Why?

Why was he like this?

[shirefantasies]

Hello friend ! 🤍 I see your requests are temporarily open and I hope that is still the case. Your writing is so cute and wholesome and I rly enjoy it 😊

I am not sure if you have me on your taglist- If not, could you tag my tolkien blog @wordbunch so that I don't miss anything!

Could I ask either for hobbits with elf crush (yes we have human crush but what about elf crush!), or how the members of the fellowship (the ones that were there for the final battle against sauron, when aragorn made the famous speech lol) - how you support/motivate/comfort each other before that event

Sorry for the suuuuper big message 😇

Nah you're totally fine! I've gotten waaaaaay longer and more complicated asks 😂 I have @wordbunch on my taglist rn so I'll keep tagging you in all my posts 🥰 it's still crazy to me that the blog that I loved and was inspired to make this blog from IS ON MY TAGLIST WHATTTTTTTT insane. It's like I'm a musician and like Freddy Mercury or the Beatles or if you’re me Danny Elfman is following me lmaos nuts man. All that to say I so appreciate your support and here are some hobbits to start 😉

The Hobbits Falling For Elf!Reader

Frodo

His Elvish skills serve him greatly here; as if by instinct he greets you in your own language, bringing a smile to your lips. “Where did you learn the words of the Sindar?” “From my uncle, actually. Ever since his visit here years ago he has never forgotten your history and your hospitality.” Realization widens your eyes and parts your lips. “Your uncle is Bilbo Baggins?” “Yes,” the hobbit smiles and gives a little bow, “I am Frodo Baggins, Bilbo’s nephew.” Your hand clutches your heart and you look upon Frodo’s rising form with new exhilaration. “I was there when Bilbo and his company came. Quite a…well, a boisterous gathering, but your uncle was dear, curious and polite. A model guest indeed. It is an honor to know another member of your lovely family.” At that, you take your turn to give Frodo a small bow, one hand sweeping outward. The intensity of his eyes, the great joy and wonder, brings heat to your cheeks that matches the red tinting his.

Sam

Sam’s awe for the elves comes to his aid here for it gives him a bit of courage to talk to you, but also disguises his attraction to you as that wonder-filled curiosity. He tells himself-nay, all but commands himself- that curiosity it shall remain. You are very pretty after all, but what would an elf want with a- “Are you, then, the gardener I heard about from Frodo?” Half jumping out of his skin, Sam focuses again on your eyes, his own quite wide. “Oh, yes indeed! Indeed I am. What did he tell you about me?” “Only that you tend every growing thing with the utmost care, and if anyone knew a thing about the Shire-plants, it was you, Master Gamgee.” “Begging your pardon, but you can just call me Sam if it suits you.” “It does indeed, Sam. If I ask it of you, would you answer a few questions? Look at a few sketches? My task, no, my passion, is my book of botany, and I believe you would be a great help.” “You could use my help? Of course! Lead the way.” Standing up as straight and tall as he could, Sam remained at attention, grinning up at you. His smiled warmed you as you led him between the great trees of Lothlórien to your study.

Merry

“You’re an elf!” “Yes,” you giggle, “And you are a hobbit, are you not?” “That’s right, a hobbit of the Shire! …Are we really going to Rivendell?” Merry’s smile is infectious. “Yes,” you answer with a nod, “Your friend is safe there and so shall you be.” “Is it true what they say about it?” “That would depend.” “That it’s the most beautiful place in Middle Earth, positively glowing with magic?” The flutter of joy in your heart that always comes with thoughts of home returns in full warmth. “It is to me,” you answered, glancing back down into the hobbit’s dark blue eyes. “I think it will stay second to Hobbiton for me,” Merry confessed with a wide smile, “Although if you’re there, Rivendell may win out yet.”

Pippin

“You’re all very good at that, you know.” Turning on your heels, you see a hobbit standing leaned against a pillar on the far side of your practice area. Crossing it to retrieve your arrow from its embedment in your target, you watch your visitor with curious amusement. A smirk spreads across your face. “Archery? Far from it. My brother alone proves that.” “Not a good shot?” The hobbit replies. “Accidentally caught one of Lord Elrond’s banners once. Tore the whole thing down.” “I’d likely do the same,” the hobbit admits with a sheepish smile. “You know not until you take up a bow yourself. Come…” “Pippin.” “Pippin,” you smile, reaching a hand down to urge him forward by the shoulder and seeing Pippin smile at the contact, “Stand here.” Remaining there as he did, Pippin bobbed and bounced on his heels as you retrieved a child’s training bow. As soon as he accepted it you stood behind the hobbit, wrapping your arms over his and sliding his hands into the proper grip. “How is that?” “Excellent,” he said. “Good. Now, my dear Pippin, let us take a shot!”

Bilbo

Nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him upon entry to the Valley of Imladris. Not the cascading waterfalls or white columns, not the great libraries, no. You. Far taller than him and much fairer, you stun the hobbit like nothing else. How can he address you? What could he possibly find to discuss with someone in the council of Lord Elrond himself? …Literature. He can do that! As it turns out, his stroke of luck is greater than he might have anticipated: you are a writer, painstakingly translating old Quenya texts. “I-I’ve studied a fair bit of the Sindar’s language, but this? This is quite unfamiliar to me.” Scooting your chair closer, you smile down at the hobbit. “Here, allow me to show you.” Bilbo leans closer- he must, for you invite him to sit at your side and peer over your shoulder, eyes scanning between unfamiliar characters and your lovely profile.

Rosie

Her gut reaction becomes her voiced reaction: “I never thought I would see an elf in real life.” Sheepishness overtakes her as soon as the words leave her mouth, though. Chuckling gently, you admit this was quite a journey for you, too. Another initial reaction and joke from Rosie is that you’ve never tasted real ale, then- hobbits’ ale. You’re quickly being poured a glass. Over drinks she asks you questions, like what plants grow in your region and what your favorites are. What you eat, what you drink. All the questions you might expect from a hobbit, but with such a glowing, endearing smile the whole time.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt @rivendell-poet | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

I don’t know if you’re still doing the trick or treat thing, but I am dying for some Bagginshield fluff, featuring my favorite berry, maybe? 🥺🫐

Sorry I couldn't get this out last night, but here's some blueberry fluff!

Try It?

Pairing: Bagginshield

Type of Treat: Fluffy

Word Count: 662

It was a wondrous day for a walk through the mountainside. When Thorin had asked for Bilbo’s hand, he had made sure the dwarf realized how important sunshine and outdoor walks were to him if he were to remain in Erebor. Exactly four days later, there was a balcony and hidden set of stairs outside the royal apartments. Dis and Balin did nothing but chastise Thorin for how reckless that was, but Bilbo was completely enamored with the dwarf’s ingenuity. Their wedding had been the happiest day of Bilbo’s life.

Wandering through what Bilbo referred to as ‘the gardens’ he took stock of all the plant life returning to the mountains in the wake of Smaug’s demise. Many of them Bilbo was familiar with, but there was the occasional plant or two that Bilbo had to have Ori help him look up the name for it. Nearing the end of his walking trail, Bilbo checked on what he had assumed was a tree growing in only to be met with a beautiful sight!

Fresh wild blueberries were blossoming, thick and full and nearly bursting. Bilbo’s mind was racing with all the recipes he could make with a basketful of them. He might even have enough for a pie! Taking off his jacket, Bilbo created a makeshift carrier for the berries plucking as many as he could. He cursed his inability to reach the higher ones and vowed to come back with a basket and Thorin later for a respectable berry picking. 

Once he had as many blueberries as he could manage, he folded them carefully into his jacket and carted them back up the mountainside. Not quite enough for a pie, but more than enough for some tarts! As soon as he was back in his and Thorin’s suite, he made his way straight for the kitchen. Fully stocked and furnished, a wedding gift from the family Urs. 

“Bilbo, what are you doing?” Thorin asked amused, finding him hours later covered in flour and smelling of pastry dough.

“Look! I found blueberries today! We can go back tomorrow and gather the rest of them and maybe can them or turn it to jam…why do you have that weird look on your face?”

Thorin’s grimace seemed to be twinged with guilt when he admitted. “I don’t like blueberries.”

Bilbo was aghast. He had never heard of someone not liking blueberries! “What? Whyever not?”

“The fruit itself is yellow but somehow it has a purple juice? It is…odd. And then I’m not a fan of the outside texture.”

Bilbo’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ of understanding. “You’ve only ever had them raw, not baked? Would you be willing to try a tart of mine to see if you would like it?”

Thorin looked uncomfortable, and Bilbo was quick to reassure him with a kiss. “You don’t have to. In the Shire, we believe food should be enjoyed, not forced. I’m not trying to pressure you.”

“If they were blackberries…believe me, amrâlimê (my love), I would have them devoured in a heartbeat. But blueberries…”

Bilbo kissed Thorin again, more thoroughly. “It is perfectly alright, my dear. I’m sure there are members of the Company that would be more than willing to…”

Thorin suddenly grabbed Bilbo and kissed him again, his tongue exploring its way into Bilbo’s mouth. Not that he was complaining in the slightest.

“Are those the blueberries I taste?” He asked when he finally pulled away, a wondrous look in his eye.

Bilbo smirked. “Well I had to sample the tarts to make sure they were edible.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and shook his head before taking a step towards Bilbo’s cooling tarts. He hesitantly picked it up, gave it a sniff, before popping it in his mouth. Thorin’s eyes grew wide in amazement, and he quickly ate five more after it. It was then that he and Bilbo found out that blueberries Thorin liked. It was grapes he had an issue with.

[annabthesolitarywriter]

For the Headcanons Game

■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

OC: That One Elf ™

Thank you for the ask!

Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanons and That One Elf.

[I'll name him at some point, but I feel like he'll always be That One Elf in my head].

A little bit of context first.

Though he's very much a Fëanor-wannabe, he only admires Fëanor's smithing skills and actually vehemently despises the person Fëanor is/was. He did not join his kin in Middle-earth to retrieve the Silmarils and thought the whole Oath thing was complete bullcrap and a colossal waste of time. He is a kind, very eccentric person. He's a weird guy, especially compared to other Elves. His home and the way it is decorated is very much in line with his eccentricities.

He owns a palatial home in Tirion—a sort of family estate—which is basically Versailles on a much smaller scale. He's obsessed with gold and diamonds, so there's plenty of that in every room. He loves mirrors because he loves to stare at his beautiful reflection at any given time and his bedroom walls are basically covered in mirrors and self-portraits in various outfits. He has a wig room—I do not know how his obsession with wigs started yet, but he has thousands of them—and he chopped off his hair because he hated the idea of having to comb it and style it every day. He loves wigs because they're more "practical" (his words, not mine). Too bad that he spends hours styling them with ribbons, pearls and diamonds. My dude is obsessed with diamonds. He could easily braid his real hair in half the time he spends styling the wigs but...that's what he enjoys, I suppose.

In addition to the wig room, he also has a smoking room. That's where he stores every kind of plant he can get his hands on and his tobacco stashes. He meets up with Bilbo and the Hobbit introduces him to pipeweed. It's love at first sight for him (or love at first smell, I guess) and he basically creates an indoor greenhouse to grow both athelas and pipeweed. I'm not sure whether pipeweed is native of Valinor, actually. Though I suppose Bilbo and Frodo could have imported some of it from the Shire. It's my new headcanon. And yes, That One Elf does smoke athelas. That's probably why he's the only sane Fëanorian one can have an interesting conversation with. He's very pleasant to be around.

To be honest, if he could he would probably smoke grass as well. It's my headcanon he went to Yavanna quite a few times and straight up asked her if she had some good stuff to share. He'll probably tell Sam and Pippin all about it and Pip will eventually build a shrine in his honor and worship him like the legend he is. They'll be best buddies. It is also my headcanon that Olórin and That One Elf did test one another's knowledge about pipes and had smoke puff battles. Manwë doesn't know by the way. He would probably have a heart attack if he did.

Back to the main topic: he's a collector and adores statues and it's highly possible that he sculpted a few busts of himself he placed both in his yard—it's basically an English garden—and in his study. Self-absorbed much? Maybe just a little.

He loves fountains too so add a couple of those as well. The more stuff, the better. His dining room is basically a Roman triclinium—nope, he doesn't eat at the table like normal people, he's that extra—and his bed is huge. Silk bedsheets and pillows because that's the bare minimum, of course. Velvet curtains and silk everywhere. The kitchen is the most spotless room in his house—did you seriously think the guy could cook? He's as bad as Éowyn, maybe even worse. He also has an entire ballroom to his own, a ballroom full of mirrors. The more mirrors the better. He has two wine cellars but he doesn't really drink Valarin wine. He's stoned out of his mind most of the time, so I guess that makes up for it. His house also has a drawing and music room. He plays the piano and the lute. He's a composer and write his own songs. He usually drinks several pints of ale as he practices the piano and I'm quite certain all the alcohol he consumes kind of affects his singing. Don't tell him though. He is very kind but he has a huge ego. I'm also sure he's a major Bagginshield shipper and cries his eyes out when Bilbo told him his story. He also has a copy of Bilbo's book in his study.

That's all for now, I think. I'll tell you more if I come up with additional deets!

Thank you again for the sending in the ask and I'm sorry that it took me so long to reply!

[tookishrogue]

ready now

a/n: for @toadstool-amongst-the-tulips! sorry this took so long! I hope you like it!!

pairing: none!

warnings: very brief mention of alcohol; implied depression

taglist: @blueberryrock, @to-be-frank-i-dont-care, @zalie, @scyllas-revenge, @justmemyselfandthefridge, @heckin-music-dork, @frodo-with-glasses!

Y/N wrinkled her brow and idly picked at a blade of grass, peeling sections of it apart and twisting the pieces together. After several minutes of this, she leaned against the trunk of the tree she'd been sitting under, the rough bark scraping against her back through her cotton dress. Even the grass seemed dull; spring hadn't quite taken hold of the terrain yet. Various shades of brown and gray painted the scene, a small handful of red buds on the trees providing the only source of bright, hopeful color; a whisper of spring in a barren, winter-worn world.

A soft, gentle voice broke the silence. “Y/N? You were saying?”

“Oh, sorry. I, er, don't remember.”

The russet-haired halfling shifted, turning to face his companion. Dark circles had taken up residence under her eyes; her bright smile had all but disappeared. “Is it bad again?”

“What?”

“Sorry for mentioning it, but you seem…gloomy. Is there anything I can do?” Worry crept into Pippin’s voice, his eyes fixed on her.

“Not really. Just one of those days, I guess.”

Pippin nodded and fell silent. The pair watched as the bare branches of dozens of trees swayed in the tepid spring wind. Silver clouds blanketed the sky, begrudgingly revealing only small patches of white sky. A songbird chirped in the distance, a short melody cutting the silence. Yellow and brown created an odd quilt-like pattern in the grass, only small portions brandishing a shining green hue. Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and withdrew into her shawl in an attempt to shut out both the cold and the heavy mental fog she was experiencing. Pippin glanced over at her, his brows knitting together in worry. He leaned back again and rested his head against the tree, deep in thought.

After a moment, he stood and held out his hand. “Come on, I have an idea.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow and took it. He grinned and helped her up, excitedly rambling in his best Gollum impression in an odd attempt to cheer her up. The two walked back to her home, where he told her to change into her favorite, most comfortable outfit. As soon as she shut the door, he sprinted away, presumably to his own home. A short while passed and he returned, practically vibrating with glee. His telltale crooked grin and shining eyes told Y/N all she needed to know: the Took had something big planned.

The two walked wordlessly for a few minutes before Meriadoc Brandybuck turned up, nodding to each of them. Samwise Gamgee, who had been anxiously watching the trio from his garden up the road, abruptly set down the trowel and tulip bulbs he had been planting. Scrambling through his open gate, he adjusted his jacket and walked beside Y/N, mumbling a quick greeting as he matched her gait. After a few more moments, Frodo Baggins slipped into the group, offering her a soft smile and a knowing look. In all her years, Y/N had never seen the group so quiet. It was highly suspicious.

As they arrived at The Green Dragon, Merry and Pippin each grabbed a door and flung it open. The inn was totally empty.

“Pip, I --”

“Just wait, trust me!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow and walked in, skeptical, the group snickering as she looked around. Dozens of curly-haired hobbits suddenly jumped up from their hidden places behind or under furniture, cheering. A small band burst into song, playing her favorite drinking song. The once-silent bar was now filled with the deafening roars of rowdy, half-drunk hobbits. Merry and Sam had already made for the bar to order drinks while Frodo snagged a table in the center of the room. Pippin remained by her side, a triumphant grin lighting up his face.

“They're all here for you. I invited everyone in the Shire! I wanted to show you how much you mean to everyone. No one here came for the drinks, though it may seem like it. They're here because of you. Because they care about you.”

As she studied the room, the faces of the halflings began to blur and melt; each movement seemed distorted and slow, their voices unbearably loud. Her hands began to shake as tears flooded her eyes. She greatly appreciated the effort Pippin had put into this, but doubt and an odd feeling of guilt were eating away at her. He had done so much for her; he'd dropped everything to do something he knew would cheer her up. All of her dearest friends were here, but she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Surely most, if not all of the guests felt obligated to come. They'd put a halt to their plans to take their place as bodies in a room, to begrudgingly become a wall of support for one person.

“Y/N? I'm sorry, are you okay? Here, let's get some fresh air--” Pippin stammered, placing a steadying hand on her back and gently leading her to the bench outside. “Here, it's cold. Put this on.” He added, slipping off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, frozen in her seat. “You can go on in, I think I just need a minute. Thank you for doing this.”

Pippin rested his arm on the back of the bench and nodded. “I meant what I said, by the way. Everyone here really cares about you. They didn't just show up out of obligation, either.” He chuckled as she gave him an alarmed look. “I know you. I knew you'd be thinking it. Be kind to yourself; for my sake, if it helps.” He nodded to the patch of daffodils under a nearby tree. “Those see your favorites, right?”

“Yes, actually. How did you know?”

“Because I know you.”

Y/N smiled. It had only been a few minutes, but this quiet moment with her dearest friend had calmed her nerves and racing thoughts. She glanced over at him, gratefulness and hope flooding her heart. “Thank you.”

He smiled back, warmth shimmering in his eyes. “Anytime.”

[fixaidea]

How about Sam (LotR Sam) for the ask meme?

(I kinda left out some questions, I might add them back in later.)

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Part of a reason is why I love all the Hobbits: the contrast of this lofty mythical setting with their simple, practical nature. Partly of course because I love his loyalty and his dynamic with Frodo.

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

His voice and inner narration.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

On one hand he's mean to Gollum even when the poor bastard is actually kinda-sorta *trying*, on the other hand, can you really blame him?

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

I uh... Is there a form of media out there LotR hasn't been adapted into? There's radio play, there's a musical, more than one cartoons... I can't name a famous comic version, but maybe that's out there somewhere too.

(Or does the question want me to put them in the world of another story...? Wording unclear.)

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Johnny I hardly knew ya

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

I also like plants very much. I'm basically a gardener with a degree.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I know I'm not the only one who likes to put him in a happy polycule with Rosie and Frodo.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Completely disregarding Frodo's own heroism in favour of him. I mean, HE'd loathe that too, y'know?

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

I suppose? I'd probably get on his last nerves because I'm a slob.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

He's shown to have a soft spot for eccentric weirdos who have their head in the clouds at all times, so I think so, yeah.

11. Would you date this character?

No.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Isn't the whole Shire basically what cottagecore is?

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Sam/Frodo/Rosie

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

I can't really name anything that bugs me too much? Maybe self-inserts, but that just goes for anyone.

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with?

It's been a long while since I just browsed around in the LotR fandom, I usually search for specific topics, so I can't really name any.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

I'm a complete broken record at this point but him and Frodo are a package deal in my mind.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

I can't think of any. A negative relationship (see Gollum) can still be interesting to read about.

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

Obvious answer aside, I'd love to see him meet Radagast.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I've only written fic where he's mentioned, so unfortunately N/A

[mordoriscalling]

Assurance and Authority (2/25)

Post-BOTFA Persuasion Au: Bilbo returns to the Shire after the Quest, having rejected Thorin’s proposal of marriage. For years after, he struggles with regret. When he and Thorin meet again, he knows better than to hope. 

Chapter 2 also available on AO3

(Ch 1)

After Master Baggins’s return, Bag End was restored to its former glory. In order to achieve that, Master Baggins had to buy back most of the things that had been auctioned off, though it turned out to be no easy task. Some hobbits either just refused to give back their prizes, or only a large sum of money could persuade them, and even then, many hobbits were loath to part with the pieces of Bag End they managed to get their hands on.

Due to the fact that Master Baggins spent so much money on regaining the items that belonged to him, everyone assumed that he had acquired some unimaginable fortune. If coming back from the presumed dead hadn’t been enough to make him a subject of great curiosity, the rumours of his great wealth only fueled the speculation about his person. Everyone wondered: what on this green earth had he been doing in his absence to come into the possession of so much money, and why had he been gone for so long?

When asked about this, Master Baggins would give the oddest answers. He would speak of a great adventure, of dwarves, mountains, a dragon and hoards of treasure, as well as so many other strange things that everyone decided he must have gone mad. No one but little fauntlings believed or liked his stories, and many hobbits have ceased to hold him in high esteem due to his disrespectable adventure and beliefs, for he did talk about the trolls, orcs and dragons as though they truly existed.

Master Baggins’s reputation became greatly tainted after his return indeed. This was not only due to his adventure and beliefs alone, but also because of his changed attitude. He made no effort to improve his bad name and steadfastly ignored what other hobbits said about him. In fact, Master Baggins dismissed all gossip as well as whatever else he deemed to be “petty matters”. His adventure seemed to have uprooted all of his proper manners, instead planting the seeds of such directness that it offended the sensibilities of many in the Shire. His bluntness did not serve to win him much sympathy among fellow hobbits and thus, the number of callers on his door decreased to mainly those who had business dealings with him or Sackville-Bagginses. While the former were received with all the required cordiality and fairness, the latter were only met with closed doors.

The strangeness and lacking manners would have made Master Baggins nothing short of an outcast and a cautionary tale, if it hadn’t been for one thing: his generosity. Anyone who came to him with some struggle received advice and aid, while his business partners had no bad word to say about transactions with him. A few months after his return, master Baggins also threw a splendid birthday party and had a gift prepared for all of the numerous hobbits in attendance, even those who invited themselves. All this sealed the general belief that master Baggins was extremely rich and, since he shared his wealth easily with others (except the ones that were shamelessly greedy), his fortune came to be regarded as his most redeeming quality.

And so, in the end, Master Baggins’s oddness became mostly forgiven, if not forgotten. Hobbits would shake their heads when they saw him wandering around the Shire by himself, but they would still greet him and chat with him. If Master Baggins was not found at home for a period of time longer than that of an exerting walk, no one spared it a second thought, as it quickly became known that he often visited his relatives in Tuckborough and sometimes even Buckland. (In later years, he journeyed to Buckland more frequently because one of his cousins he was most fond of, Primula, settled there after marrying Drogo Baggins, also a cousin of his). When master Baggins was at home, he did not entertain many guests, to the displeasure of quite a few hobbits. Those to whom Bag End’s door was freely open were the Gamgees and some of master Baggins’s relatives, but then again, everyone knew that the Master of Bag End was peculiar; most hobbits could overlook his lack of interest in sociability as long as he didn’t become tight-fisted by any stretch.  

Then, in the second year after master Baggins’s return, it turned out just how peculiar he had become when he hosted dwarves in Bag End, more than once! This naturally stirred up quite an uproar, for it was believed to be unseemly that a hobbit would rather welcome dwarves into his smial than those of his own kind. Master Baggins was completely unconcerned with the scandal he had caused, only replying to his critiques that it would have been more unseemly for him not to have welcomed those dwarves, as they were his good friends.

The friends in question were fellow members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, with whom Bilbo had gone on the Quest of Erebor. The first to visit him were Glóin and Bombur, together with his brothers Bofur and Bifur, who all were making a journey back to the Blue Mountains in order to bring their families to the Lonely Mountain safely. Bilbo happily hosted them on their way to as well as back from Ered Luin, more than glad to have Bag End filled with the sounds of voices and feet that were not only his own.

The next year, another member of the Company visited Bag End. It was Balin, who travelled to the Blue Mountains to carry out some orders in the name of King Thorin. Bilbo enjoyed hosting Balin as much as his previous guests. While the stay of Glóin, Bombur and their families was a merry occasion full of laughter, singing and stories, Balin and Bilbo reminisced more while enjoying a quiet smoke. From Balin, Bilbo was also able to learn in more detail about how Erebor fared, as well as about the well-being of the King and the two princes, and hearing only good news brought him great relief.

Both times when Bilbo’s guests were about to depart, they urged him to visit Erebor again, assuring him that he would be welcomed as a hero. Although Bilbo was delighted at the invitations both times, he made no promise as to when exactly he would come to the Lonely Mountain again. He did not know whether his friends knew why he parted on bad terms with the King or were aware of it at all. He definitely did not want to discuss it, so he did his best not to let his reluctance show, instead making sure to express his joy at having been invited.

No other dwarves visited him in the same year as Balin, nor in the next one. Bilbo would probably have felt this lack of dwarven guests more acutely if it had not been for the fact that he managed to make new dwarf friends.

The way that came about was that, in the year following Balin’s visit, Bilbo chipped an old kitchen knife. He decided to buy a new one instead of fixing the old one, as it was too well-used for his liking. On the nearest market day in Hobbiton, two dwarven metalsmiths - a bladesmith and a brownsmith - just happened to sell their wares, and Bilbo did not hesitate for a moment to approach the stall the two put up together. The bladesmith introduced himself as Seis, and the brownsmith together with him introduced himself as Darl.

When Bilbo gave them his name in return, Seis said, “Bilbo Baggins? I’ve heard your name before, master hobbit!”

“Have you?” Bilbo said. “Have other hobbits mentioned me to you?”

“No. I’ve heard your name from stories of the quest of Erebor! You’re the Burglar who faced the dragon and defended the King and the princes in the battle!”

A blush coloured Bilbo’s cheeks. ‘Yes,” he said. “That was me.”

Seis could not have been more enthusiastic in his response. He bowed to Bilbo deeply and thanked him for his role in the reclamation of Erebor, offering any of his wares for free as an expression of his gratitude. Darl did the same and, in a show of trust that Bilbo found most humbling, revealed that her name was in fact Umí, and that Seis was her husband. (Having met Glóin and Bombur’s wives, Bilbo now knew that if dwarrowdams travelled, they did so under an alias and dressed as dwarven men, for they were rare among their own kind and took every measure to protect themselves).

Bilbo did not want to agree to not paying for their work but neither would accept his money. The more Bilbo insisted, the more stubbornly the two refused, until the whole situation turned into quite a scene that attracted a large audience of nosy hobbits.

In the end, Bilbo relented. “Fine! I shall take a knife and a saucepan from you, but please, allow me to invite you to stay at my home tonight. I shall serve you supper in return for your kind offers.”

This Seis and Umí agreed to and thus Bilbo’s friendship with them began.

From the start, the couple was eager to learn more about him and his adventures. Bilbo found their openness to be refreshing and charming. Dwarves were known to be a secretive lot, and Bilbo remembered how long it took for other members of the Company to regard him as one of their own. Seis and Umí, in contrast, treated him as though he was their good old friend they were reconnecting with. As they asked him all sorts of questions about his life and the Quest of Erebor especially, all of his answers seemed to delight them.

“Is it really true, master Baggins,” Umí asked for example, during that first supper at Bag End, “That there are all kinds of treasures in the Mountain?”

“I suppose so, yes,” Bilbo replied. “I’ve seen hoards of gold, all kinds of precious gemstones, things made of silver and mithril - ”

“Mithril?!” Seis cried. “Are you certain it was mithril you’ve seen?”

“Why, yes -”

“Then you were so lucky to have come near it!” the dwarf said. “Many would near give their lives to be able to say the same.”

“What? What do you mean by that?” Bilbo asked.

“Mithril is now beyond price,” Umí replied. “No one has mined it for centuries and its properties make it extremely desirable. No blade can pierce it, yet it is as light as a feather.”

“To illustrate the value of mithril better to you, master hobbit,” Seis said, “Let me tell you about the piece of mithril I possess. I do not carry it with me, it’s far too precious for that, so I can’t show it to you, but it’s a throwing knife, about the size of my forearm. It’s a family heirloom, passed to me from my father, who received it as a gift of thanks from King Thráin himself. With that knife, I’d say one could buy well over twenty dozen hobbit-holes just like yours.”

“Twenty dozen?!” Bilbo exclaimed.

“Aye, it was a kingly gift indeed.”

Bilbo gave no answer to that, as he felt a bit faint. He possessed a large piece made of the unique metal himself: a whole shirt of chain mail, in fact, given to him by the King of Erebor, as a token of their friendship. At the time when he had received it, Bilbo had not been aware of the extraordinary worth of mithril. Now that he knew it, he realised just how expensive his shirt was. If he understood correctly, this single gift was worth more than the whole Shire, and wasn’t that a head-spinning thought!

His friendship having been valued more than his homeland, however, brought Bilbo only sorrow, for he was quite certain the King no longer held him in such high esteem. Indeed, even in his own head, Bilbo struggled to call them friends. They had used to be that, most definitely - true companions, who had survived remarkable dangers together, and had earned each other’s respect, trust and loyalty in hardship. Their friendship had undergone some severe trials, emerging only more strengthened, yet there was one thing it did not survive.

Heartbreak.

Bilbo forced all the memories and musings about the matter to retreat deep into his mind. It was no time for brooding; after all, he had guests to take care of. Bilbo offered his guests more ale and pork roast, which they accepted happily. As they ate and drank, Bilbo had just enough time to regain his composure.

“Aren’t you curious what deed inspired such generosity from King Thráin?” Seis said.

“My husband been itching to tell you the story this whole time, Master Baggins,” Umí laughed. ‘Be careful, or else he shall bore you to death!”

“I certainly shall not! It is an interesting story!”

“Let me hear it, then,” Bilbo said.

In response, Seis regaled Bilbo with the story of how his father Tawis played a pivotal role in helping King Thráin establish his settling in Ered Luin.

“My father was a blade smith just like I,” he said, “But he understood stone like the finest miner, and he was a Broadbeam, just like I. Our house has lived in the Mountains since the dawn of our kind. My father was already over a century old at that time, and with his wandering feet, he had got to know the whole mountain range backwards and forwards.”

Then, Seis went into staggering detail about each hall and little corridor his father helped construct, and each cave-in he helped avoid. The onslaught of specialist information about stone, mining and construction - which Bilbo really did not understand - almost made his head spin. Seis spoke of it with such pride and passion, however, that Bilbo did not have the heart to stop him. All the while, Umí shared amused glances Bilbo, until she took pity on him and interjected Seis from time to time, urging her husband to have a sip of his drink or taste more of the pork roast.

“In the end,” Seis finished his tale significant time later, “my father’s contributions were so great that Thráin was most grateful and gave him his own mithril knife. My father was so honoured by this gift that he decided to stay in the King’s service for good, and him and my mother settled along the Longbeards, like many other Broadbeams and Firebeams. The new halls kept growing prosperous, so we were eager to move there.” He leaned in towards Bilbo with a smile. ‘The fact that Longbeards turned out to be most comely was a great added bonus, I must say. Just look at my Umí here.”

Umí laughed and swatted her husband’s arm. “Oh, you Broadbeams always speak in such pretty words! Makes you wonder if you mean half the praise you say!”

“I would never flatter you untruthfully,” Seis said. ‘Never once.”

“Except for the times you know you’ve done something that would anger me.”

“I’m still truthful when I try to placate you, my gem. It’s just that I’d rather face a dragon than your ire.”

The couple kept bickering good-naturedly, which Bilbo observed indulgently, for it very much reminded him of the way his parents had talked to each other.

It was only after his guests left the next day, with promises of swift return, that Bilbo decided to poke at old wounds. He took the mithril shirt out of the chest he kept it in and studied it closely. He run his fingers over the tiny chain rings, marvelling at how apparently this one item was worth more than the whole Shire and everything in it.

“A kingly gift indeed,” Bilbo said to himself. “Oh, Thorin.”

Bilbo could not help but wonder what he would have done if he had known the true value of this gift. He suspected that this knowledge would have made the regard the dwarf King had for him more believable. As such, when Thorin had spoken of it for the first time, Bilbo had been convinced that the roundabout confession in the form of a sudden marriage proposal could not have been born of clear thinking. After all, Thorin had lain heavily wounded in his tent after the Battle of the Five Armies. Moreover, although both were certain about the trust, respect and loyalty they had for one another, neither of them had directly shown any signs deeper fondness. Thus, Bilbo found it impossible to believe that the King had truly reciprocated his affections, the depth of which he himself had only just begun to understand.

Now it seemed that Bilbo had been wrong. This whole time, ever since deciding to head back to the Shire after the battle, he had been assuring himself that he had done the right thing to leave Erebor and her King behind. He had been sure that Thorin could not have been serious in his proposal. Moreover, he had had it on good authority that at the time, Thorin’s mind might not have yet fully cleared of the sickness that had previously plagued it.

Yet, if Thorin had given him this shirt fully made of precious silver steel, it appeared that he must have truly cared Bilbo just as dearly as Bilbo still cared for him.

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said again and wept, as bitterly as on the day of his mother’s passing.

[edgessunflower]

Hey hon I hope you are doing dandy💛. I was wondering if you write for pre t trans men. For The Hobbit/Lotr I'm 5'3". I have light blue/Grey eyes and short dark blonde hair. I have a lot of muscle that's covered with chub. My favorite color is yellow and I love the wilderness...preferring it over city life. I spend time getting to know different species of wildlife and plants in my area.

I suffer from chronic pain and migraines. I love music but I dance like a drunk white mom (I have ZERO coordination when it comes to that). I love sparing and learning self defense. Honestly I just wanna be loved.

I hope you have a good day...and don't feel like you have to write this.. it's only if you are open to it. Okay bye🧙‍♂️✌️🏳️‍⚧️

Yes absolutely!

First I ship you with Legolas! 💚

He always laughs when he sees you dancing always thinking of a tree trying to walk and dance at once

He never minds sparing or helping with any type of combat even letting you shoot his bow if somehow you needed to if he couldn't each or didn't have his bow

He always helps you when you're having a migraine or a spasm of chronic pain whether it's heating up wet cloths, massaging your temples, giving you leftovers of food, giving you meds, or just cuddling you if you're not in alot of pain

He enjoys seeing you light up like a little kid as soon as you and the fellowship enter the forest or woods never being bored by the infinite area of trees, green, animals, and never ending space

He always gets different plants for you when he travels with the fellowship from flowers in Rivendell, Sunflowers in the shire, and little green eucalyptus plants

He doesn't mind whether you're tall or shorter than him but he will tease you for the top of your head reaching the side of his waist or halfway to his arm making up for it with kisses

He never judges you for being trans and will help you whether you're transitioning when you two met or have already transitioned he will get you T and if you can't give yourself the shot he will gladly do it for you

He loves when you show him your scars if you've had top surgery and he will always gently caress and kiss them but if you haven't had the surgery yet he will help you save to get it going with you to Rivendell to get it done

Next I ship you with Kili ♥️

He doesn't care that you're trans always willing to help you get T and give you your shots or be there when you give yourself the shots

He enjoys your joy of the forest always laughing at you running through the forest full of joy and wonder always going with you when you go to the forest

He gets every kind of flower he can find when he and the rest of the company go to claim Erebor back from Smaug while you stayed in Bree giving them to you right after the battle was over and coming to erebor

He always laughs dancing right next to you when you dance which makes half the company laugh as well but the others wonder why the hell the two of you have to match in personality so much

He never minds helping you spar with a sword or hand to hand depending on whether you're taller than him but even if you're taller he still teaches you to fight hand to hand or with a sword

He always helps change your bandages on your chest if your transitioning on the journey, help change your tubes if you get surgery on the journey while staying somewhere, or just gently rub your scars if you're already transitioned before the journey

He always helps anyway he can when your having a migraine or any type of long chronic pain from giving you hot baths when you're at an inn, giving you the strongest meds he had or could find, massage your muscles and joints, making sure to hydrate you with tons of water, or just cuddling you while you fall asleep

[delicatenightfury]

Star of the Mountain Chapter 22

Warnings: fluff, angst, canon-level violence, spoilers for the Hobbit films

Pairing: OC x Thorin Oakenshield

Beta'd By: @mistys-blerbz

Author's Note: please do not steal my work! I do not own the Hobbit or the characters, but I do own my OCs and the parts of the plot that are not part of the movies. I have worked very hard on this fic. Please be respectful and do not steal.

Please comment, reblog, and like!

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Oreliell sighed as she splashed water on her face. She glanced up at the mirror in front of her. Her eyes were still just a little red, but it was less noticeable now. She had managed to fix her hair and braided it out of her face in an attempt to look put together.

She was grateful for the company that Fili and Kili provided. Thorin’s state was taking its toll on her. She hated to see him like this, so driven by greed that he could not function normally. He was not the same dwarf she had known and fallen in love with, let alone the same dwarf she had risked her freedom for in Mirkwood.

Oreliell took a deep breath to steady herself as she wiped her face dry. She would just have to take one day at a time until she could figure out a way to help him.

She stepped out of the room she had found, only to almost run into Bilbo.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Oreliell,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s quite all right, Bilbo.” She looked at him for a moment. “Are you all right?”

“Um, actually, could I talk with you?”

Oreliell nodded. She followed Bilbo down the hall. They stopped near the records room and sat on one of the benches outside. Oreliell looked down at the hobbit, noticing that he seemed a little anxious. She stayed quiet, knowing that Bilbo would share when he was ready.

“What is that?” Oreliell glanced to the side and stood up quickly as Thorin approached. “In your hand!”

“It’s- it’s nothing,” Bilbo said.

“Show me,” Thorin demanded.

Bilbo stuttered for a moment before lifting his hand, his fingers uncurled to reveal an acorn. Oreliell glanced at it before looking at Thorin.

“I picked it up in Beorn’s garden,” Bilbo said.

Thorin’s expression softened a little.

“You’ve carried it all this way?”

“I’m going to plant it in my garden. In Bag End.”

“It’s a poor prize to take back to the Shire.”

“One day, it’ll grow,” Bilbo said. “And everytime I look at it, I’ll remember. Remember what happened, the good, the bad. And how lucky I am that I made it home.”

Thorin smiled. Oreliell smiled back. She hadn’t seen him smile in so long… It made warmth bloom in her chest.

Bilbo chuckled a little and shuffled his feet.

“Thorin,” he said. “I-”

Oreliell looked up when she heard heavy footsteps quickly approaching. 

“Thorin,” Dwalin called. “Survivors from Lake-town. They’re streaming into Dale.”

Oreliell watched as Thorin’s expression began to darken again.

No. No, no, no. Please-

“There’s hundreds of them,” Dwalin continued. 

“Call everyone to the gate,” Thorin grumbled. 

Oreliell reached out to try and grab his arm. 

“Thorin, wait-” 

“To the gate! Now!”

Oreliell watched him walk away. Dwalin sent her an apologetic look before following after Thorin. Her hand clenched into a fist at her side, wishing that she was able to reach out to him. 

“Oreliell?” Bilbo said softly. She glanced down at him. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” she replied after a long moment. “You managed to get through to him, Bilbo. We must pray that we can do it again.”

As ordered, the company gathered at the gate. Several of the dwarves looked out at Dale, where they could see the people of Lake-town moving around. They seemed to be setting up camp and lighting fires for the evening.

Thorin came toward them, his face still shrouded in anger.

“Gather what stone you can,” he demanded. “We must reconstruct the gate.”

“What?”

“Thorin, what do you mean?”

“Do as I say,” Thorin snapped. “The gate must be rebuilt to keep out the pests.”

The company exchanged brief looks with one another, but slowly set to work. They lit several lanterns and began to gather whatever stone and rubble they could find. It would take a lot to fill the entryway.

The hours trickled by and the sun set over the land. They brought pulleys and rope and ladders, allowing them to continue to build up as they went. The process was tedious, but the dwarves knew how to work with stone. Oreliell moved stone where it was needed, following whatever directions were given to her by the others.

“Up it goes!”

“More stone over here.”

“That’s it.”

Oreliell paused to look over the dwarves. While they were making progress, the company wasn’t moving terribly fast. Oreliell could tell that they were hesitant about what they were doing.

“Come on, lass,” Dwalin said, nudging her.

She sighed, lifting another large stone and setting it in place. She glanced up when Thorin emerged from the hall.

“I want this fortress made safe by sunup,” he called. “This mountain was hard-won. I will not see it taken again.”

“The people of Lake-town have nothing,” Kili suddenly said. Oreliell looked back at him, noting that he had stopped working. Several other dwarves paused to look at him, but continued working, not wanting to risk Thorin’s wrath. “They came to us in need. They have lost everything.”

“Do not tell me what they have lost,” Thorin said. “I know well enough their hardship. Those who have lived through dragon fire should rejoice! They have much to be grateful for.”

“Grateful for what?” Oreliell asked, turning to him. “Kili’s right, Thorin, they’ve lost everything. If we have the resources, we should offer them.”

He turned to glare at her. She saw that more dwarves were slowing down to listen and watch.

“They have their lives, do they not?”

“Not all of them.”

“Lass,” she heard Dwalin say, trying to quiet her.

She waved him off.

Thorin scoffed.

“What would you know about something like this?”

“Because I have been through dragon fire and seen my home be destroyed, just like you and just like the people of Lake-town. You know that, Thorin. You knew that before anyone else.” A brief silence came over the company at her revelation. “They’ve lost their livelihoods, families and friends. They are lost, Thorin. They have no one to turn to except us.”

“They appear to be doing well enough on their own.”

She stood up straighter. Her eyes met his narrow, dark ones. She knew that she was challenging him, but she hoped that she could knock some sense into him again like she had earlier.

“When Erebor was lost, did you not wish that someone would help?” she asked. “And when you were denied help, weren’t you angry and hurt? Would you truly choose to follow in Thranduil’s footsteps here?”

“I am nothing like the elven king.” 

“No? You’re turning your back on others, just like he did. You claimed that Thranduil lacked honor. Where is your’s now?”

Thorin roared. He moved quickly, picking up a piece of debris and hurling it through the air. Several dwarves cried out, stepping forward slightly to try and stop him. But Oreliell gasped and jerked back slightly upon feeling a sharp pain at her forehead. She felt someone close by reach out to stabilize her. She lifted her hand to her face, touched lightly where the pain was, and pulled it away. Her fingers were red. She could feel blood dripping down her face, close to her eye.

“Oreliell!” several dwarves gasped, noticing her new wound.

She ignored them and looked up at Thorin. His chest was heaving up and down, and his fists were clenched at his sides as if he were restraining himself.

“Men shmek menu,” he growled. “Get out. If you set foot in my kingdom again, I swear to Mahal that I will kill you.” Oreliell stared at him in shock. How could she not have recognized how far gone he was? “Go! Now!” (translation: /I will kill you\)

Fili gently pulled on her arm.

“You need to go,” he said sadly. “I don’t want to think what he’ll do if you stay here.”

“He’s not himself,” she said.

“No. He’s not.”

He tucked a piece of cloth into her hand, his eyes darting up to her wound. Oreliell gave him the smallest nod and went to the wall. Bifur and Nori were there, setting up a way for her to safely get over the wall. She smiled slightly at them. She paused to glance over her shoulder. Thorin was glaring daggers at her.

If looks could kill…

“Menu gajatu, amrâlimé.” She hoped her forgiveness in Khuzdul reached him through the dragon sickness. (translation: /I forgive you, my love\)

She heard scattered gasps and murmurs come from the company. She was aware that she had revealed her relationship with Thorin, which was more than likely a shock to them, but she kept her eyes on Thorin.

Thorin, however, simply growled again and reached for another rock.

Oreliell grabbed hold of the rope the dwarves had provided and quickly went over the wall. She lowered herself down, leaving small traces of blood on the rope. Once her feet touched the stone bridge, the rope was pulled up out of reach. Oreliell looked up to see several faces looking down at her, including Thorin’s harsh scowl.

Oreliell turned and started across the bridge. She was barely a few yards from the gate when a rock came flying at her again, barely skimming her shoulder. She did not turn around, nor did she stop walking. 

“More stone!” Thorin shouted. “Bring more stone to the gate!”

A tear ran down her face, mixing with the blood. The wind caused the cut to string, but she almost felt numb to it. Her feet felt heavy as she walked. She could hear stones being placed down even as she got further and further away.

It took her a long time to cross the field. Every step felt harder and harder to take.

“Vedis,” she called out.

“Oreliell? Is everything all right?”

“I am approaching Dale. Where can I meet you?”

“I will be there in a minute.”

Oreliell nodded even though Vedis could not see her.

The bridge into Dale eventually came into sight. When Oreliell looked at it, she noticed Vedis standing at the entrance, waiting for her. She felt a lump form in her throat upon seeing her sister. Vedis quickly crossed the bridge, extending her arms toward her sister.

As soon as Vedis’s arms were around her, Oreliell felt the dam break. Her legs gave out and she practically crumbled to the ground. Her body shook with heavy sobs as tears flowed down her face. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. So many things had happened that it had become far too much for her. Vedis held her tightly, lowering them both to the ground as Oreliell cried. Vedis ran her hand through Oreliell’s hair, hoping that it would help calm her down.

Oreliell eventually felt Vedis lift her back onto her feet. She looked at her sister. Vedis’s eyes scanned over her face then honed in on the cut on her forehead.

“What happened?” Oreliell shook her head, but Vedis refused to let her look away. “Tell me.”

“Thorin cast me out,” she said, her voice quiet and rough. “He’s building a wall at the gate to keep people out. He’s been searching for… that stupid stone. He’s become blind to everything else. I couldn’t reach him, Vedis. I tried, and I couldn’t-”

Vedis shushed her softly, wiping away Oreliell’s tears. She gave Oreliell a gentle yet sad smile.

“We should get you settled,” she said. “Let me tend to your head then you can get some rest.”

“What about the people of Lake-town? Surely they need your help more than I.”

“We are doing what we can for them, but you are my sister. {Let me take care of you.}”

Oreliell nodded. Vedis wrapped her arm around Oreliell and gently began to guide her into Dale.

[scyllas-revenge]

The Floor Is Molasses

The War of the Ring is over. Frodo has sailed to the Undying Lands, Sam is comfortably settled into Bag End with Rosie and his children—and Boromir, Steward of Gondor and Captain of the White Tower, is taking a much-needed vacation in the Shire.

And while Boromir may have developed a surprising knack for gardening, looking after Sam’s children is proving to be much harder than he’d planned.

Rating: G

Words: 2644

Read on AO3!

“Look at those lovely rows! You’ve improved a great deal, Mister Boromir, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.” Sam removed his fraying straw hat to fan his face in the late summer sun.

“Have I indeed?” Boromir got to his feet to observe their work, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Rows of freshly tilled soil marched down the sprawling garden of Bag End, labeled with Sam’s untidy but determined hand: Peas, Turnips, Leeks, Carrots, Beets, on and on—Boromir might have called it excessive, if he hadn’t known firsthand just how much hobbits were capable of eating.  

“’Course you’ve improved,” Sam replied stoutly, now brushing the dirt from his trousers. “After your horrible start—though maybe that’s best forgotten, if you follow me.”

Boromir recalled his first day in Bag End with a wince. After being asked by Rosie to prune the rosebushes she and Sam couldn’t quite reach, he’d marched confidently into the garden and promptly trodden on their newly planted snapdragons, twisting Rosie’s face into a frightening scowl and nearly bringing little Elanor to tears. “Once again, Sam, I must apologize for that.”

“Oh, no harm done.” Sam waved his words away with a reassuring hand.

Boromir's eyes lowered. Always Sam was too quick to forgive him—quicker by far than Boromir deserved—no matter how trifling or serious the offense.

“You replaced the snapdragons right quick, at least," Sam went on, grinning, jogging Boromir from his memories. "Anyways, it’s not your fault. ‘Them Big Folk are clumsy through and through,’ I told my Rosie, you know, ‘and likely it’s on account of those big clunking boots they wear, they can’t help but step on everything in their way.’”

Boromir laughed, and the sound nearly startled him. He was happy, almost unbearably happy, here in this little garden in the Shire, dirt clumped under his fingernails and a sunburn blooming on the back of his neck. Who would have guessed that Boromir, Steward of Gondor and Captain of the White Tower, would develop such a love of gardening?

True, he wouldn't remain in the Shire long enough to see the seeds sprout or to taste the fruits of his hard work, but he minded little. He’d needed something to occupy himself here—he’d never taken a vacation in his life and wasn’t used to being idle—but he’d taken to gardening with greater joy than he could have imagined. It was the act of planting, the steadfast care the seeds needed to grow, the amount of water and depth of soil and a thousand other protections against the elements…

And perhaps most importantly, Boromir’s floppy gardening hat and the lumpy, man-sized shearing gloves Rosie had fashioned for him were a good deal more comfortable than his captain’s armor, and were far less likely to be drenched in blood.

“Now then,” Sam said, scratching his chin. “We’re near done for the day, I should think. If you wouldn't mind, go inside and fetch my pruning shears. We’ll see to the rose bushes and then meet Rosie at the Green Dragon for a mug of ale, if you like.”

With a nod, Boromir went back to the green hobbit-door, pausing to scrape the mud off his boots. He ducked low to avoid the door frame and made his way down the hall.

A chorus of laughter met his ears as he made his awkward, crouching way down the long hallway: Merry and Pippin were watching the two hobbit-children while Rosie was finishing her shift at the pub, Boromir knew, but from the sound of it, his friends weren’t trying very hard to keep their charges in line.

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Now, did Sam keep his pruning shears in the kitchen? Or were they perhaps—

Something shoved at his calf. “Move!”

“Eh?” Boromir jolted upright and thwacked his head against the rafters. “Valar blast it all—” Eyes watering, he squinted down to see a chubby little figure tugging furiously at his leg.

“Move!” Elanor’s round cheeks were bright red, her wild blonde curls swinging as she punched at his calf. For a child who could be no more than five, her voice held as much authority as a king’s. “Move-move-move, get off the floor!”

“What? Why’s that, lass?”

“Because!” she cried, and it was only then that Boromir noticed that she was standing on a sofa cushion—that she’d, in fact, hopped her way to him on a long trail of cushions, several of which had split open in protest and were now bleeding goose feathers into the air. “Because the floor is molasses! Now move!”

“Ah.” A grin bloomed on his face. “Molasses, is it?”

“Yes, now hurry up, Boromir,” came Pippin’s cry from the living room. “It’s safer in here!”

“Very well,” he said gravely, distantly recalling similar games from Faramir’s childhood—though their antics had involved rather less homey threats than molasses, if memory served. In the Citadel, the marble tiles had most often turned to lava or quicksand, and out of doors the tall grasses had become thickets of enemy spears, which he and Faramir had avoided only by dangling from tree branches and leaping into ponds.

But that mattered little. He could work with molasses.

Scooping up a giggling Elanor in his arms, Boromir trudged toward the living room, groaning and dragging his boots against the floor so exaggeratedly that the hobbit-lass punched his shoulder. “Hurry up!”  

“Nearly—there,” Boromir gasped, falling dramatically to his knees in the living room doorway, depositing Elanor safely onto another cushion as he did so.

“Get up, you great lump!” she bellowed, reaching forward to yank on his hair. “You’ll be stuck forever!”

“It’s true,” Pippin added mildly. “We’ve lost many a good hobbit that way, you know.”

 Boromir looked up to reply, then snorted. Pippin was standing on the dining room table, his curly hair in the rafters.

“Oy!” Merry called cheerily. He lay flat on his stomach on top of the grandfather clock in the hall, his limbs hanging limply on all sides like a collapsed scarecrow. “How’s the gardening coming along?”

“’ullo, mister Bormeer,” came a call from little Frodo, who stood in a large plant pot, his chubby toddler hands clutching the rim to balance himself. Dirt and leaves were scattered about on the floor, the only visible remnants of the plant pot’s former inhabitant. “You gotta get off the floor, mister, or you’re gonna get stucked,” the hobbit-lad informed him seriously. “Right, Ellie?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” his big sister cried, hand on her hips again. “Mister Pippin, throw him a rope or something. I can’t get him up on my own, he’s too big and fat.”

Boromir spluttered. “Too big and—”

“Don’t worry, Boromir, I’ll save you.” Deftly, Pippin flung a wooden bowl of fruit in the direction of the coat stand near the wall, which toppled toward him with a clatter loud enough to make Boromir wince. Catching hold of it, Pippin directed its wooden feet in Boromir’s direction. “Go on, use this—pull yourself up to safety!”

 “And what will Sam say when he sees that you’ve all done your best to destroy Bag End and everything in it?”

“It’s already destroyed,” little Frodo crowed from the plant pot. “It’s covered in molasses!”

Boromir considered this. “A fair point,” he conceded, and with a great show of struggling and straining, he pulled himself to safety. He was too big to sit comfortably in most of the chairs in Bag End, so he settled on the dinner table with his feet resting on the nearest chair. “There,” he said, grinning at the hobbits. “Am I quite safe now, do you think?”

“No!” Elanor cried. “Now the table’s sinking into the molasses, right Mister Merry?”

"You know, I think you're right." Merry swung his legs idly from on top of the grandfather clock. “Excellent observation, Ellie my dear.”

“What am I to do then, Captain Elanor?” Boromir turned back to her. “I await your orders.”

“Get to the sofa—quick!”

Boromir nodded determinedly, but as he stepped back onto the floor, little Frodo gave a shriek. “Don’t touch the floor, Mister!”

He hesitated. “How am I to cross the room, then?”

Elanor rolled her eyes. “Jump across on the pillows, of course!” To demonstrate, she leap-frogged across the room on the strewn sofa cushions before reaching the safety of the rocking chair in the corner. The chair swayed precariously under her momentum, but stayed upright. With a shout of triumph, she turned back to Boromir and jabbed an imperious finger at him. “Now you!”

“Straightaway, Captain,” he replied with a salute, making Elanor giggle.

He hesitated for a moment, but there was nothing else for it. Boromir launched himself from the too-small chair and landed squarely on the nearest sofa cushion, which promptly exploded in a cloud of goose feathers.

“You great lump!” Elanor cried.

“Wooo!” little Frodo shrieked from the plant pot.

“Nicely done, Boromir,” Merry said dryly.

“Oh, nicely done, was it?”

Boromir winced as Sam’s voice cut through the cloud of feathers.

“What is going on here?” Sam’s stout hands were on his hips, and he glared from Boromir to Pippin to Merry, who in the ensuing moment of frightened silence toppled headlong off the grandfather clock and landed in a heap on the floor.

“Sorry, Sam,” Merry muttered.

Sam turned to pluck little Frodo out of the plant pot and rolled his eyes. “I’d expected such things from these two,” he said, turning his curly head to scowl at Merry and Pippin. “But you, Mister Boromir—now, I thought you were more serious than all this. And my Rosie’s cushions, and the dinner table, and all!”

“But Papa—” Elanor tugged on Sam’s sleeve anxiously. “It’s my fault, I made him do it!”

Sam crouched down low, setting Frodo down beside her and brushing dirt and leaves off his clothes. “And why’d you make him do it, Ellie?” he asked, more gently.

She looked around with a quivering lip, clearly mourning the loss of her game. “Because—” Her face screwed up, and then she was sobbing. “Because the floor was molasses!”

Patting her hair, Sam nodded thoughtfully.

“We really are sorry,” Pippin said earnestly, staring at the feather-spotted ground. “We’ll help you clean up, we promise.”

“Oh, you’ll help me, will you?” Sam folded his arms imperiously, and Pippin shrank back with an audible gulp. “You’ll clean this mess up yourselves, and right quick! But first—”

He bent down to Elanor, who was still weeping bitterly into her hands.

“The floor was molasses, was it?”

She nodded shakily.

“It was,” she bawled, wiping at her nose. “I’m sorry—”

“There, there, Ellie. It seems to me the only thing to do now is…” He leaned closer and whispered something in Elanor’s ear.

She stopped crying at once. “Really?”

“That’s right.”

“And Mister Boromir too?”

“Of course.” Sam rocked back on his heels, smiling sagely. “Go on, then. And take little Frodo with you.”

With a shrieking giggle, Elanor grabbed her brother’s pudgy hand and raced out the door into the yard.

“What's that you're planning, Sam?” Boromir asked. He didn’t like the gleam in the hobbit’s eyes.

“Planning?" Sam put his hands on his hips. "Now, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean—I’ve never been one for plans. So then, pick up the chairs and cushions, you lot, and sweep up these feathers.”

Heads bowed in contrition, they set about their tasks.

Boromir struggled to maneuver the broom properly, his tongue between his teeth, while Merry and Pippin began to straighten up the furniture. But only a few minutes had passed before Sam tugged the broom out of Boromir's hands. "What's that you're doing, Mister Boromir?"

"What do you mean? I'm sweeping."

"Scraping up the floor is what you're doing," he cried. "Haven't you never used a broom before?"

Boromir rubbed the back of his neck and coughed.

Sam sighed. "Well, enough of that for now, in any case. Why don't the three of you go outside and pick some flowers for Rosie, to make this place look a bit brighter?”

They weren't anywhere near done cleaning up the mess they'd made, but they looked at one another and shrugged. “It beats moving furniture!" Merry exclaimed, and the three of them made their way to the door.

But no sooner had Boromir stepped onto the front porch than he was struck with a cascade of water—accompanied by a shriek of laughter.

“What the—” Boromir spluttered, wiping at his face and his drenched tunic. Beside him, Merry and Pippin were coughing and spluttering too, though their attacker hadn’t managed to splash much more than their hairy feet.

“We got you!” Elanor cried, poking her head up from behind the door, where she and little Frodo had been lying in wait. They each held empty watering cans in their chubby fists, and little Frodo was giggling so hard that no sound was coming out.

Merry bent and ruffled the boy's hair, laughing. “I suppose we deserved that, didn’t we?”

"Yes!" Frodo giggled, punching the air in victory. "You derserved it!"

"That was a mighty strike, Captain Elanor," Boromir said, wiping at his face and shirt before picking up the laughing hobbit-lass and setting her on his shoulder. "You have a strong arm indeed."

"I know!" She beamed, swinging her feet back and forth proudly.

"Papa!" Little Frodo yelled. "Papa, we did it!"

Sam's laughing face appeared in the doorway. "Well done, Ellie, Frodo! Think that got the molasses off of them, or do they need another bath?" 

"No, no," Pippin said hurriedly, hopping on one foot as he squeezed the water out of one of his trouser legs. "We've learned our lesson." 

Merry sighed. "Well, we'd best keep cleaning up those feathers, I suppose." 

"Oy, dry yourselves off first! I'll not have you tracking water and muck all over my floors," Sam called. Merry and Pippin froze guiltily, then scurried off to obey. "And as for you, Mister Boromir—” Sam ducked back inside and returned with his pruning shears. "Let's finish up our gardening, eh?" 

"Can I help too?" Elanor cried from Boromir's shoulder. She tugged at his hair impatiently, making his eyes water.

"Me too, me too!" Little Frodo hopped up and down, tugging at the loose fabric of Boromir's trousers. At Sam's nod of approval, Boromir grinned, scooped up the hobbit-lad, and set him on his other shoulder, and together they made their way to the garden. 

"Papa, look how tall I am!" Little Frodo crowed, punching the air by Boromir's head. 

Elanor scowled over Boromir's head. "You're not as tall as me!" 

"Am too!" Frodo bellowed, and soon they were bickering heatedly. Sighing, Boromir set them both down, where they took off like firecrackers, chasing each other around in the grass and shrieking.

"I really am sorry, Sam," Boromir muttered as he took up the pruning shears. "You and your family have been kind enough to host me here, and I made a mess of things." 

"Everyone makes a mess of things sometimes, if you follow me," Sam said. "And anyway, the worst of the mess was made by Merry and Pippin."

"Even so, I should not have forgotten myself thus." Boromir frowned, reaching up to clip away the branches out of hobbit-reach. "It's been many years since I've felt so at ease, and I fear I've let it go to my head." 

"You should let it go to your head more often," Sam said, collecting the fallen branches in his arms as Elanor and Frodo laughed and wrestled in the garden nearby. "Only next time leave our poor furniture out of it, no matter how much molasses is flooding Bag End." 

Boromir shook Sam's hand, unable to stop himself from laughing. "It's a deal."

[lem0nshark-writes]

‘’Warm Nights’’

Fili & Kili x Male (hobbit) Reader

Word count: 2148

Warnings: polyamorous, no incest - issa fili x reader x kili, fluffff, cute stuff okay

It has been a few moons since the dwarves took their kingdom back and the rightful king under the mountain was crowned. You and your best friend Bilbo returned back to the Shire and resumed with patching up the house back after your neighbouring hobbits split all of your belongings between themselves thinking you two had died.

The thoughts of you two's adventures with the company occupied both Bilbo's and yours minds and the two of you often spent time talking about them.

To be quite honest you missed the company a lot, especially the two dorky princes. The three of you managed to bond quite strongly during your journey to Erebor. But you missed everyone else too. Though Bilbo gave you a lot of comfort and his company was very dear to you.

One night as you two were preparing the dinner you noticed Bilbo has made a lot more food than usual, almost too much. But you paid it no mind thinking the hobbit was feeling extra hungry that evening. After you finished up the many foods you helped set up the table.

Remembering you forgot to turn the light off in your bedroom you made you way towards it, and just as you passed by the entrance door to the house you heard a knock.

You looked over at the door in surprise, questioning, not expecting anyone that late. You turned towards the direction of the kitchen and called out for Bilbo, "Hey Bilbo, are you expecting anyone?" you waited for him to answer but he didn't make a sound, you figured he was busy finishing up one of the last few dishes he was working on and shrugged it off, walking over to the door and opening it.

"Who is it-," you didn't even manage to finish up your sentence before a swarm of dwarves fell right on top of you, making you fall backwards on your butt with all the dwarves landing on you.

"Y/nnnnn!~~" all the dwarves cheered your name when they saw you, hugging you tightly not bothering to get off you and almost squishing you to death. Bilbo watched the scene from the door frame with a warm smile plastered on his face. He knew they were coming but wouldn't tell you, wanting it to be a surprise, and oh what a surprise it was.

"G-Guys what are you doing here??-" you smiled in surprise at your friends, trying to hug all of them back when you realized who it is that attacked your small body by piling on top of you.

"We had to visit our favourite hobbits!~" Bofur cheered. "Bilbo didn't tell you?" Thorin added.

"N-No-," you looked over at Bilbo with squinty eyes and he rose his hands up in a defensive way, "I wanted it to be a surprise," he smiled, not regretting his decision one bit.

You wanted to be upset but for the love of it you couldn't, the fact that the company was back together once again was overjoying and you couldn't get the smile off your face.

You and Bilbo took your time to greet each dwarf separately, many tight hugs being exchanged and even some cheek smooches too. And after you all finally done your greetings you and Bilbo lead them all into the dining room which was swarmed with foods and drinks. Many dishes, pastries, all sorts of drinks and desserts graced the table in plenty and you all sat down at the table. The dwarves wasted no time digging right in and soon enough cheerful singing filled the air, all of you joining in, and celebration took over the whole room.

After the lengthy dinner and many songs sung you all took it onto yourselves to clean up and then moved to the living room to share tales of the time you all spent away from each other. Stories of your adventures on your journey to the mountain finding themselves there as well as you all reminisced over the moments shared together.

You spent the rest of the night like that, just hanging out and chatting and when the time came to go to bed Bilbo helped settle everyone into their respective rooms for the night. You so happening to end up, due to the lack of rooms with a one-person bed, sharing a big one with the two princes and him totally accidentally ending up in a big one with Thorin.

The three of you slowly made it to your assigned room, chatting along happily as you walked.

As you got in, the princes started to take off some of their, now unnecessary, layers of clothing to get comfy for the bed and you took that opportunity to claim your spot on the bed.

"I call dibs on the middle!" you chirped cheerfully and catapulted yourself onto the bed, claiming your spot in the middle of the big bed, hugging the extra pillow you brought along.

The two chuckled at you as they put their clothes on the chair next to the wall of the room.

"Works for me," Fili grinned as he took off his boots.

"Me too," Kili smirked as he jumped on the bed as well, landing half-way on top of you, almost knocking all the air out of your lungs, and hugging you tightly.

You chuckled through your coughs and hugged him back, "Dear Lord, Kili-"

He just grinned cutely and so you couldn't even scold him, and just as you recovered from Kili's landing on you you got struck by another one, Fili hugged you just as tightly, snuggling into your body after the jump.

You smirked happily and pulled them both into a tight hug, getting back at them for the jumps.

They both let out gasps from being squeezed but you were gentle on them soon enough.

Brothers chuckled and you did as well and you all fled under the covers, the two of them sandwiching you into big warm hugs, which you very gladly returned.

The three of you shared the comfort of the quiet moment just hugging and being happy to have each other around once again, your heart feeling like it will burst out of your chest. To be quite honest you shared more than just very strong feelings of friendship towards the two, but you never acted on it, both because you didn't want to ruin the friendship but also because you loved both of them equally and you just couldn't pick, you didn't want to anyways.

"I missed you guys so much," you snuggled into them, making sure to grasp them both in your embrace.

"We missed you too," they smiled, each planting a kiss on your cheek, Fili on your right and Kili on your left.

You blushed through a smile and smooched the tips of their noses softly, returning the kisses.

They grinned and rested their heads on your shoulders, their faces almost completely in your neck, so close you could feel their warm breaths against your skin. It made you blush lightly.

"How long will you be staying? I hope you are not leaving tomorrow already .. are you?"

"No, we're not. We'll be staying for a couple of days," Fili smiled at the worry of departure in your voice.

"You're not getting rid of us that easy," Kili added with a grin and moved himself more up and closer to you, his face now halfly touching yours, hugging you tighter.

You chuckled at his words, "I better not," you added with a grin on your face, though blush spread across your cheeks once again because of how close Kili's face was to yours.

Fili stayed on his spot, his head resting on the spot on your chest next to your shoulder, listening to your heartbeats.

He could hear them speed up every time one of them would move closer or even speak. He found it curious, he didn't understand why it would do that, after all there's no way you'd feel the same as him, same as them.

See, the brothers talked after they took their kingdom back over and after things settled down. They've noticed each other's longing gazes whenever the situation would calm down or the conversation died out. They've noticed both of them were missing something, or rather someone. But, seeing they've both been in love with you they decided they would, with your blessing of course, either share or have neither of them be with you. Though the subject came hard to open and discuss once the three of you finally met again.

Fili quietly took your hand in his and held it gently, playing with with your fingers.

Your heart immediately picked up as your eyes shot a gaze towards the blonde dwarf, you gave him a warm smile, hiding the blush that was slowly spreading across your cheeks though the darkness of the room hid it well enough already.

Kili looked up between the two of you, and took your other hand in his, holding it to his chest and kissing the back of it sweetly.

Your gaze now fell at the brunette who was smiling at you already and your blush darkened and you smiled even brighter, snuggling into the two of them.

"Hey, y/n.." after a few moments of silence Kili suddenly spoke.

"Hmm?" you smiled at him, turning your attention to him.

"There's something we'd like to tell you.." Kili continued and Fili's eyes shot at him quickly, not expecting him to open the topic on the first day but also understanding that he can't not be with you for another minute because he feels the same.

"What is it?" you asked with a smile, hoping it's nothing bad.

"So uhmm… I-I don't know how to start but uhmm…" Kili started, now not being sure how to spill their hearts to you.

"When we took back Erebor w-we realized something uhmm-" Fili tried to help, "We don't know how you would feel about it but we have to ask-." You looked between them as they spoke, waiting patiently for the princes to gather up their courage and get to the point.

"Would it be alright if we courted you?" Kili finally blurted out, all three of you now sitting up half-way.

"Both of us, together-" he added with a hopeful smile spread on his handsome face.

You looked at the two in shock, eyes wide and words not leaving your throat. You couldn't believe this was happening.

"W-We know it's weird but.. but we both like you-" Fili started.

"Very much," Kili added.

"And we couldn't come to a decision so, if it would be alright with you-" Fili looked up at you, hopeful smile resting on his lips as well  as the question hanged in the air.

It took you a while to break out of your shock, eyes darting from one prince to the other. But after a few long and torturous moments your brain finally started working again and a quiet "Y-Yes-" left your lips through a breath.

"D-Did you say 'yes'?" Kili couldn't believe his ears.

"Y-You accept our courtship?" Fili questioned, disbelief residing within him as well.

Big smile made it's way on your lips and you nodded your head vigorously before throwing yourself onto the brothers squeezing them into a big and tight hug.

They cheered happily and quickly returned, stuffing their faces into your neck and chest, hugging just as tightly.

After very extensive hugging session the three of you laid back down, now snuggling even closer to each other, the two of them each holding one of your hands in theirs.

"I love you guys," you exhaled happily, snuggling further into the two princes, "I have been in love with you two since the journey as well."

That made their hearts melt a little knowing you felt the same as them, and what a relief it was too.

"We love you too," they replied in unison with warmth both in their voices and in the smiles spread across their lips, snuggling right back.

Your heart could explode from all the happiness it felt at that moment.

The happiness grew even stronger when Fili propped himself up on one of his elbows and leaned in placing a gentle but passionate kiss on your lips, followed by Kili who did the same with a big grin on his face. You gladly returned both, blushing like crazy. The two chuckled at your red cheeks and proceeded to kiss them, each the one on their side, before laying back down and throwing their arms around you.

The three of you laid there like that, snuggled against each other in the warmth of the bed and each other's embraces, all three of you slowly drifting off to sleep.

[halfelven]

Hey there! Happy 22nd of September! Do you have any thoughts on Thranduil?

no thoughts, only Thranduil

but no actually I have too many thoughts on Thranduil

he's 7'1" which puts him a full foot taller than Legolas

he has a scar almost completely encircling his neck from a dwarven garrotte, which he tends to cover with his clothes or chokers. (it's a necklace he can never remove)

he was hit by lightning when crouching for cover, and the lightning left a huge scar over his left hip and down his leg/up along his abdomen

his dancing is magic in a stronger way than most elves

his movements too hold a lot of power

he'll lift his fingers in a wave, and that's making the wind stronger somewhere

he tied so much of his magic to his land that he is part of the forest itself, and can use the plants, the fungi to see what is happening throughout the forest

he took a /lot/ of pain to protect his people, but he's still kind and loving

he's aromantic

and extremely bisexual

he was one of the last people to see Elrond and Elros at Sirion

he has chronic nose bleeds

his skin is almost see-through and catches light in terrible ways sometimes

(but they are still beautiful)

sometimes he thinks that gathering silver and gems will make all the horrors of his past worth it because that's what everyone wanted

sometimes he just wants them because he knows what people will do for wealth and it's a guarantee to keep his people alive

he's half Silvan, and views himself as Silvan

his script looks a lot like Bilbo's, and they were both delighted by this

I am going to make a separate post about /why/ I think this BUT

he paid a realm's worth for a mithril shirt for Legolas when he was a child (so nothing should ever happen to him)

when Legolas outgrew it, it went back to Erebor to be re-made but Erebor was attacked before that happened

this wound up as Bilbo's, and then Frodo's

he laughs a lot and tends to cover his face with his hands when he laughs

it used to be very easy to make him blush, but it's not as easy anymore so Elrond goes out of his way to make Thranduil blush around him

he likes borrowing other people's clothes because he likes just holding onto something that smells like the people he loves

he's tall but very slim so sometimes he borrows shirts from people and wears them as crop tops

he and Legolas still have adjoining rooms because Legolas never wanted to move out of what was once his little nursery

he has five dogs (think Karelian bear dogs) and will pat them all the time and still carries them around like they might be puppies

he went to visit the Shire a few times with Legolas and was Delighted by it

he and Pippin made an alliance

he still picks Legolas up all the time because he's smaller than him and so much younger than him that Thranduil has a hard time not thinking of him as a child still when they're not working

but he's very proud of Legolas

his favourite colour is green

he bakes apple pies and spice cakes that look a bit wonky and taste amazing

he made people who fell beneath his spell dream of feasting and happiness because he thought it the kindest way for them to die if die they must

he is not cruel, but he has seen cruelness, and he will not underestimate it

he slept in Elrond's bed, and then Celebrían and Elrond's bed, and then Elrond's bed again when he visited Rivendell

he also visited a long time when Elladan and Elrohir were born to help raise them because the amount of magic it took to stabilise them and keep them alive was intense

they had it better figured out when Arwen came, so he didn't have to help as much

in turn, Elrond came to help with Legolas, even though he didn't need help, he still asked Elrond for it

he is best friends with Gandalf and isn't afraid to hug him when he's being grumpy, which most of his friends are

he really loves sledding and goes out every winter with all the elf children to pull them up the hill and ride down with them if they're scared

he's just all the children's uncle/grandfather and will play with them whenever he can

also he has a lot of plants in his room

and he likes koi fish

he gets cold on his nose and ears easily and then they get flushed and his cheeks too and he wraps his face up in a scarf so only his eyes are showing

thank you I love him so much! <3

and I was surprised I haven't done a headcanons list of him that I could find

[e-m-christina]

(Day 19 of October Writing Challenge)

The Shallows - Legolas x Reader

CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Y/n, an elven water-bender joins the fellowship, under the instruction of Elrond. As she catches up with Legolas, a childhood friend, she soon realizes that she is developing feelings for the elf.

Requested by @chocotacobread I hope you enjoy!

Requests are open!

MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

An unusually warm breeze for that time of year rustled the orange-burnt leaves that lay on the ground. The sun hung low in the clear sky, but rolling grey clouds from the east threatened to dull the beams of golden evening light.

Y/n was strolling through the vast gardens of Imladris, better known as Rivendale with Lady Arwen.

Lord Elrond had sent for her to join a meeting between elves, dwarves, men and halflings. It had been a long and tiring journey for Y/n, she had travelled all the way from Rhun, where she was hired by the townspeople to direct the rivers towards the sea, to stop them from flooding the crop fields. Y/n then stopped briefly at Anfalas and Harad for a short rest, before continuing her trek towards the last homely house.

"I'm so glad you came," Arwen said, brushing her dark hair from her eyes.

"So am I, it feels like an age since I was here last," Y/n said, stopping to admire a white Aeglos flower, known to humans as Snowthorn, a plant grown in Amon Rûdh in the first age and the only surviving plant remained there in Rivendale. Y/n loved flowers - she promised herself that if she ever settled down, she would fill her house and garden with flowers.

"It's been many years, I believe the last time I saw you was when you and that company of dwarves blundered through here on a quest to reclaim Erebor," Arwen said with a hint of irritation in her usually honeyed voice.

"Really, that long?" Y/n said, turning to look at her friend. "I heard that Bilbo has returned. I sure would like to see him again. I never got a chance to visit him after he travelled back to Shire after Thorin’s death."

"He is here, and he will be at the meeting. So will others you may know," Arwen said, steering Y/n away from the Aegols plant before she could steal it.

"Forgive me, but what is this meeting about? Your father was rather vague in his message." Y/n asked, ducking under a Culmulada branch.

"I know very little myself. Bilbo's nephew, Frodo Baggins arrived here a few days ago. He was hunted down by the Nine and stabbed by a Morgul blade because he was carrying something of significance, though father never told me what it was." Arwen said.

Y/n’s blood run cold. She had suspected something dark was beginning to stir in Middle-Earth. When she was passing through the Valleys of Khand in Harad, on the borders of the dark lands, she had spotted an army clad in black marching along Ephel Duath, the border to Mordor. But she had never in her wildest dreams imagined that the Nine Kings of Angmar were on the move.

“Then that answers the question doesn’t it,” Y/n said.

“Answers what question?”

“The Nine only hunt one thing - the ring of power,” Y/n said, and a look of realization flashed across Arwen’s fair face. “Frodo must have had the ring and they are after him. That must be what the meeting is about.”

“I did not think of it that way,” Arwen said, “But how could such a small thing like him come across the ring of power?”

“I have a hunch,” Y/n bit her lip. Years ago on the journey to Erebor, Bilbo told her that he found something in the Goblin Tunnels; a little golden ring that made him invisible. She thought nothing of it then, but looking back she realized that was foolish.

“In any case, best not worry your mind over it right now. We have an hour before the meeting starts and everyone arrives.” Arwen placed a hand on Y/n’s arm. “You must be tired. Where did you say you travelled from?”

“Rhun, but I stopped at Harad and Anfalas for a short rest.”

“I simply do not understand it,” Arwen shook her head. “You have a lovely home in Golden Forest of Lothlorien, yet you roam the wild like a ranger and sport the company of unsavoury folk.”

“I like to travel and if I can help people with my water bending abilities, like the village next to the sea of Ruhn, I want to be of service. There is not much to do in Lothlorien apart from eating berries and listening to the nerve twanging sounds of those blasted loots.” Y/n shrugged. “Besides, I wouldn’t call the people I travel with ‘unsavoury’.”

“My dear friend, you have travelled with a group of grubby dwarves, violent vagabonds from Belfalas and dirty pirates from the East Ocean of Anäm! Your choice in travelling companions is worrying.”

“Eh,” Y/n kicked a stray pebble. “I could be travelling with worse.”

“That is what I am afraid of.”

“My dear Y/n!” Someone cried when Y/n and Arwen turned a corner. Perched on the stone bench overlooking the pond, was a little frail man wrapped in a grey shawl, and beside him sat a younger boy with dark curly hair.

“Bless my boots,” Y/n grinned, pulling the old man into a tight hug. “Bilbo!”

“My dear friend, I never thought I’d see you again! You have not aged a day!” Bilbo chuckled, lowering himself back onto his seat with shaky legs.

“It had been a long time my friend. Not had any more unexpected party’s without me, I hope?”

“Of course not! Though Dwalin visited not too long ago. He’s gone senile and deaf as a post.” Bilbo laughed lightly, before turning to the younger hobbit beside him. “This is my nephew, Frodo. He has had quite the adventure.”

“So I have heard,” Y/n said, shaking the young hobbit’s hand. He looked rather pale and had dark circles under his large blue eyes. “Takes after his uncle.”

“Uncle Bilbo told me all about you, lady Y/n,” Frodo said with a gleam in his eyes. “He would tell me and the other kids stories about how you drowned the dragon in Laketown by engulfing it in a massive bubble of water. Is that true?”

“Partly,” Y/n laughed. “I had a great deal of help from a man named Bard who injured the beast with a black arrow. I merely finished the job.”

“I told you, very humble!” Bilbo laughed.

“Y/n is very prone to getting mixed up with dealings with dragons, Balrogs and other beasts,” Arwen said.

They all turned around when a ringing broke through the air and the gates of Rivendale creaked open. The sound of hooves thudded off the ground and riders began to pour in through the great gates.

"That must be the others," Arwen said.

The first group to arrive was comprised of human men, the leader had the crest of Gondor sewn into his tunic and had a head of messy brown hair.

The next to arrive was a ragged group of dwarves, grunting and grumbling as they stumbled from their pigs and ponies. A smile worked its way onto Y/n’s lips when she spotted Gloin and his son, Gimli, staggering around.

And finally, a group of elves from Mirkwood gracefully trotted up the cobble path, sneering at the dwarves. Y/n’s eyes landed on an elf with long blond hair riding on a white stallion. It was Legolas - an old childhood friend of hers. The last time she had seen him was after the battle of Erebor.

“Nin mellon, an anand baw see!” (My friend, long time no see), Legolas beamed when he spotted Y/n and came striding over.

“Ha's beleg na see cin mellon.” (It’s great to see you, friend), Y/n said and the smell of pinewood and mint filled her nose when he tackled her into a hug.

“I think you have spent too much time with dwarves,” Legolas smirked, speaking so the others could understand.

“How so?” Y/n cocked a brow as she pulled back.

“You have shrunk!”

---

Thanks for reading! Comment if you want to be tagged in Pt2. Requests are open!

[spxllcxstxr]

Confession • P.T

(Gif not mine)

Request: hi! since you said you wanted to write for merry/pippin, could I request a pippin x fem!hobbit!reader? could it be one where pippin comes up with a (terrible) plan to be “fake drunk” to confess to the reader (so he could take it back if unrequited)? like she realizes he isn’t drunk and takes care of him anyway and also confesses ?sorry it’s so oddly specific, I just think it would be super cute and I could totally see him do that so he wouldn’t embarrass himself lol. tysm!! -- anon

Summary: After many drinks at the Green Dragon, you walk Pippin home

Warnings: drinking, alcohol, implied being drunk, gn!reader

Word Count: 556

A.N: The way I loved writing this even though Pip is probably ooc lmao, enjoy!

****

“Alright, Peregrin Took, I think that’s enough ale for one night.” You chuckle, eyeing your friend up and down as he can barely walk back from the bar without spilling his drink onto the floor.

While the Green Dragon was still as rambunctious as usual, many hobbits decided it was time to get back to their comfortable little hobbit holes for the night. 

And after the amount of drinks Pippin has finished off, you think leaving now is the best possible idea.

His small frame slumps against your own, cheek pressed into your sleeve. You run your hands through his already messy dirty blond curls.

Pippin throws his friends an uncoordinated wave, and you watch them share a look and sneakily exchange stacks of silver. Knowing Pippin, you reckon this will be an eventful trip home. 

The night air has a bit of a bite to it, making Pippin cling onto the fabric of your shirt a little tighter. The contact has you smiling at the hobbit pressed into your side. The warmth of his skin makes you never want to let go.

He’s still stumbling a bit, tripping over his own big feet and occasionally crushing flowers between his toes. It’s all a tad too coherent to you, though. You’ve dealt with a drunken Took traipsing at your heels, and this just seems...different in a way.

Pippin hums some drinking song you’ve never heard of as you walk through the hills of the Shire. The chirps of the resident bugs harmonize with him.

“(Y/n)...” Pippin mumbles as his hobbit hole comes into view. “I need to tell you something.” He actually sounds nervous.

Your pace slows a bit. “What is it, Pip?”

“I really like you...” He sighs, bright eyes finding yours in the dark.

“Pippin...” You warn.

“The kind of like that makes me want to compose one of those silly little love poems Bilbo and Sam think of while tending to the garden.” He smiles, his hand finding your own, curing his fingers to hold your hand. 

The two of you pause in the middle of the trail.

Your heart leaps at his admission, but you swallow roughly at the situation.

“You’re drunk, Peregrin Took. Don’t do this to me now. Don’t give me hope.” You rip your eyes away from his.

“But I’m not.” A hand cups your chin, lightly pulling you back to face him.

Sheepishly, you roll your eyes. “Pippin, I need two hands to count how many drinks you got--”

“Got, yes. Drank, no.” He smiles. “Gave most of ‘em to them Gaffer, mostly to pay him back for what I did to Bilbo’s front hedges.” The hobbit in front of you chuckles fondly at the memory.

Narrowing your eyes, you inspect every inch of the hobbit in front of you. The warmth of his fingertips on your face sends goosebumps trailing down your spine.

“When have you ever seen me this rational after a trip to the Green Dragon?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you rational at all, Pip.” You huff, a smile forming on your face. “But you do have a point.”

Both of your faces soften. 

“You really...like me?” You whisper.

“You’re the only hobbit I have eyes on, (Y/n).”

“What a poet.” You muse, planting a light kiss on his forehead, your nose getting tickled by his curls. 

“Only for you.” 

•

Lord of the Rings Taglist: @jazzybug163​ @starryeyedrogue

[selenavtl]

Travels of a broken heart (Thranduil x reader) :Chapter 1

The Shire seemed to be a place from another world, made of wide fields covered in bright green grass and plants. Everything was silent, as if nobody lived there. Though, Hobbiton seems to be an exception. The laughs of hobbits are heard through the small round houses, and the smell of freshly baked meals is the most comforting thing one could witness. I hear the first hobbit that sees me gasp in shock, at the same time as his rake hit the floor. He steps back and exclaims:  

-"You’re an elf!" It was loud enough for the hobbits outdoor to hear, and turn towards me.

I laugh and approach him, slowly enough to avoid scaring him. 

-"I am indeed! Are you alright? 

-Why yes but, you are the very first elf I ever see! "

Ah, so what Gandalf told me is true, hobbits apparently don’t go behind their borders. 

-"I see. Well, I hope you’re not disappointed then! I am looking for a... Mr. Baggins, do you happen to know where I can find him? "

He seems surprised by my request.  

-"Bilbo...? Yes, the lad lives in Bag-End, up the hill!"

I bow as a thank you, and walk in the direction of the said hill. Every single hobbit outdoors quickly rush back in their house at my sight, but I understand them. I also was scared the first time I saw someone other than an elf.  I quickly arrive in front of a wide wooden green door, indeed marked by a magical blue rune. I knock, and am quickly greeted by a golden-haired hobbit in a patchwork-like nightrobe. Who doesn’t seem very pleased by my arrival.  

-"Hello, Mr. Baggins, right? My name is Y/n, I was invited here.  

-Hm... right, but... Are you really with the dwarves? 

-I am indeed, are they here already?"

I ask as he lets me in his beautiful and warm hobbit hole. As soon as I set foot in the house, a deep booming voice echoes through the walls. Dwalin.  

-Ah, Y/n! Gandalf, the she-elf arrived! 

Gandalf immediately comes to me, along with my old friend Balin.  

-“My dear Y/n! It is nice to see you here! How long has it been? Fifteen years? “he asks.  

-"That’s right! And you haven’t aged a bit! "

The white-haired dwarf laughs, and without even giving me time to greet Gandalf, drags me to the dining room, where the other eleven dwarves chat happily. They all greet me, since we all knew each other from past meetings, besides two of the younger ones.  

-“This is Fili and Kili, Thorin’s nephews. “says Dwalin. “They only ever heard about elves from Thorin.  

-Oh my, that must not be a very ...objective view of the kin. “ 

Dwalin laughs, just before a loud knock is heard at the door. The room falls dead silent instantly.  

-“He is here. “says Gandalf.  

We both follow Bilbo as he goes open the door for Thorin. He, this time, really hasn’t aged a bit.  

-“Gandalf...I thought you said this place would be easy to-…" he stops dead in his tracks as his eyes fall on me. “Y/n... you came.

-Of course I did..."

We smile at each other and he quickly crosses the room to pull me into a hug. Which is a very rare thing to do for Thorin. He doesn't seem to be very appealed by the idea of Bilbo being the fifteen people in the company, but yet again, Bilbo and the others seemed to have mutual thoughts on the subject.  

The evening went well, the only bad new being that the dwarves of the Iron Hills wouldn’t help us. But we were not hopeless for long, since Gandalf, map and key in hand, announced us that there was another way into the mountain. At least this is what Thorin's father, Thrain told him. Everyone is now drinking and chanting, but the tiredness from the travel to the Shire hits me hard, so I decide to go isolate myself outside.  

I thankfully find a bench, too low for me yes, but still a bench, in front of Bag-End. The sky is dark and clear, allowing the moonlight to bless my skin. The sound of the door opening and of footsteps quickly pulls me out of my daydream.  

-“Here you are...” Thorin says, a wide smile plastered on his face. He sits beside me, and pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I think we lost our burglar...

-Give him time...it’s normal for him to hesitate, he’s never been out of this place..."

He nods, and suddenly seems worried.  

-"Gandalf wants us to seek help from the Elves... 

-Well...Elrond wouldn’t stop us but...we better stay away from Lórien or...or the Woodland Realm..."

Thorin looks at me sadly and sighs. “We most likely will have to go through Mirkwood or at least near it...are you alright with it?”  

I take a deep breath and sigh. The truth is, I don’t know what would happen. But I can’t tell Thorin that.  

-"I’ll do what has to be done, Thorin... I promised you I would help you get Erebor back, and I will."

Thorin lets out a groan. “There is not one day I don’t pray for him to choke on his bloody ego and Dorwinion wine.”  

I must admit the thought of it is quite appealing, but I don’t think I would survive a world without Thranduil in it. Even if I have no hope for a future with him, at least he is alive. I still don’t know which option is the worst though. 

-"Thorin...know that it doesn’t matter what I have to go through. I will be here, mellon nin."

He smiles, but I can still see worry in his eyes. “And I’ll never thank you enough for that.” 

The night went by quickly after that, music was played by Bofur, songs were sung by everyone, and it was time to rest, for tomorrow would be the start of our adventure.

Elvish translation:

Mellon nin = my friend

Author note: hi ♡ the first few chapters will be shorter than the upcoming ones. Thank you for reading ♡