#i also like the part where he almost loses to one lone elf-lord

[fingolfinwiththesteelchair]

My favorite Morgoth moment is when the Great Enemy of Middle Earth got attacked by a big spider and shrieked so loudly all his balrogs heard from miles away and had to come rescue him. Damsel behavior

[moony-artnstuff]

Matchup Commission @yunohawkeye

Note: @yunohawkeye it's finally here! Thank you so much for your patience, I know you had to wait very long for this, but I hope it is to your liking!

Warning: This matchup contains nsfw, don't like, don't read!

Lord of the Rings: I ship you with Legolas!

The height difference is adorable.

He loves your hair, and he’s surprised when you tell him how you actually want it because that’s not something you really see in Middle-Earth, least of all his own culture. Still he’d be happy to help you find the supplies you need for cutting and dying it the way you want it.

You like stealing his tunics, as they look like oversized t-shirts on you and they smell like him. The first time he saw you wearing his clothes he almost died from cuteness.

He loved how you were a bit shy when you first met and then gradually became more comfortable around him. He saw it as an achievement whenever you shared something new with him, and he loved getting to know you more.

He’s a curious ball of sunshine and when you get excited about something he gets excited about it too. He’s so supportive of the things you do and likes learning more about them. He’d also be really happy if you took an interest in his hobbies such as archery.

Legolas enjoys being with people (this is also expected of him because he’s a prince) but he also loves quiet moments with you. He’s happy you can entertain yourself when he has to do his duties as prince of Greenwood the great, as he wouldn’t want you to be bored or lonely while he’s away.

Don’t worry about shopping he will get you all the clothes you could ever wish for and he lets them tailor exactly to your size (benefit of being a prince). He quickly takes notice of your style and orders clothing accordingly.

This ellon is clingy as fuck and would love nothing more than to be in your presence at all times, so no worrying about that. He’s also extremely cuddly. Good luck trying to get to the bathroom at night, he won’t let you out of his grip.

He likes your random moments, as he has a lot of them himself. I imagine him as a kind of oddball amongst elves. The two of you keep each other on your toes, and you can often be found laughing about something the other said.

Legolas adores both your tomboyish personality as well as your tomboy looks. Legolas is a warrior and works with both ellons and elliths who are all badasses but all look quite feminine with their long hair and stuff, meaning your personality is familiar yet your looks are refreshing and he likes it.

Introduce him to video games, he’d be fascinated by them. I can totally see him getting fully absorbed in a fight scene, whether he is playing himself or encouraging you.

Loves to dance with you, he does it all the time. You’re relaxing on the sofa doing nothing in particular? Dancing. He sees you walking past in the halfway? Let’s twirl around together for a moment. He’s been away from you for some time and now finally gets to see you again? He picks you up and spins you around, so happy he is to see you again.

Like I said before, Legolas is a bit of an oddball amongst elves, so he would never judge you for being your weird and quirky self because really, he’s the same. It makes him so happy that you’re comfortable enough to be yourself around him, and it encourages him to do the same as well.

Legolas is a ray of sunshine and finds joy in almost everything in life, but he has seen dark things and lost loved ones as well. He is the perfect person to talk to when life is weighing you down or when you just want to talk about some heavier topics, as he knows what it feels like, while at the same time he’s also capable of making you smile again in mere seconds.

Your dark humor catches him off guard at first but he catches on quite quickly.

Legolas is all for having a good connection and good communication. He often talks with you about how he feels about something and asks your opinion. He also frequently compliments you and genuinely can’t understand how you can’t see how amazing you are. Will stubbornly continue with giving you compliments, all the while looking at you as if you are denying simple facts such as the sky is blue, because he means every word he says.

Teasing him will be a challenge as he can be quite the oblivious one (for example if you were to rile him up during the day with lingering touches and then play dumb he would get frustrated because he’d believe you’d genuinely didn’t know what you were doing when in reality you were teasing him), and he will probably take the things you say too literal (“Legolas, is that a banana in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” “Why would I have a banana in my pants?”). It’s best to just give him straightforward compliments when trying to flirt with him.

Legolas is a bottom. Like yeah, sure, he can take the lead if you want him to but he prefers to be the submissive one, and he loves the way you take the lead and how good you make him feel.

Just like with Thorin you’ll be introducing him to a whole new world regarding sex and toys. At first he’s a bit shy about the concept of dirty thoughts and talking about sex, but his curiousity and your openness to talk about it makes him more comfortable.

Loves it when you tie him up and have your way with him, especially when you peg and edge him.

You met at the counsel of lord Elrond where you volunteered to be part of the fellowship. Legolas was curious as to why a human woman would offer herself to such a task, and he started a conversation with you. He quickly came to like your company and often seeked out your company during the journey. You comforted each other after Gandalf’s death and while you are in Lothlorien he tells you about his home and the dangers it’s facing. He needs a bit of help from Aragorn and Gimli, but he eventually realizes he has feelings for you and he doesn’t hesitate to confess, because why would he? He loves you and wants to be with you, and if you feel the same then he wants to start courting immediately since your time together is already short with you being human and him being an elf.

The Hobbit: I ship you with Thorin!

He likes you being blunt. Thorin does not have the best social skills and though he is by no means stupid he can be a bit thickheaded sometimes. That’s why he likes that you’re not afraid to tell him how it is without beating around the bush.

Whenever you get bubbly or excited about something he gets this soft, fond smile while looking at you. He just thinks you’re so precious and he makes a mental note to often talk about your interests to see that spark in your eyes.

The teasing will get to him. God this dwarrow just can’t handle it, he might act all tough and stoic on the outside but he really is just one big softie on the inside who becomes a flustered mess the second you give him that look alone.

Just like you, Thorin is an introvert. He prefers to spend his time with close friends and family, such as the company and you. His favorite moments are spent with you, in your shared bedroom where you do your writing and he hums in front of the fire next to you, just enjoying each other’s presence.

You both tend to keep problems to yourself, so you help each other with opening up. It was a bit of a struggle in the beginning, with the both of you wanting to be there for each other but refusing to open up about your own problems. Slowly though, Thorin started to tell you about his past and the loss he felt when he lost his grandfather, his father and his brother in the war against the goblins. This made you open up about your feelings as well and the two of you learned to reach out to each other whenever something’s bothering you.

He’ll hold your hand when you have to be in a big crowd. As king and queen under the mountain it is expected of you to attend council meetings and grand parties alike, but Thorin always makes sure to stay close to you and offer you comfort until the two of you can retreat to your chambers again.

He loves your ‘randomness’, it refreshes him. He’s always been so focused on leading his people, reclaiming Erebor and then rebuilding it that he’s never really had any time for fun. You saying and doing random things gets him out of that cycle of endless responsibilities and to him it feels like a fresh breath of air.

Please play music with him! He feels a lot of pride in having such a talented and musical s/o. He would be so happy if you let him accompany you in your music with his harp.

Don’t worry about not having spotify or youtube in Middle-Earth, Thorin’s voice will definitely make up for it (we all heard him sing in Bag-end *chills*). He often hums to himself when doing a mundane task, and if you asked it of him he would be happy to sing for you.

He’s honored if you show him your writing.

He’s honored if you show him your writing.

Despite knowing you can handle yourself perfectly well he’s still very protective over you. He’s just so afraid to lose you, but he tries to tone it down for you as much as he can.

After the mountain is reclaimed he becomes much more loose and free spirited, he’ll be both your partner and your best friend for life

Although he can be a bit oblivious sometimes he makes an effort to see what your likes and dislikes are, for example your movie preferences, and he keeps them in mind when getting you gifts

Like I said before, you’ll have to help him with being open/vulnerable with you. It's not that he doesn’t trust you, he’s just not used to being vulnerable with someone, so he needs to take it slow. You’ll also have to teach him to stay calm and talk when the two of you have an argument. Thorin is used to leading his people and has always been put under a lot of pressure because of it, but you quickly showed him that getting angry and barking orders was not the way to handle a fight with you, and with time he becomes better and better at talking things out with you.

Your openness to sexual talk and constantly having dirty thought caught him off guard at first, as people usually don’t talk so easily about such concepts in Middle-Earth. He tends to get a bit bashful/shy when he hears you talk about it, but slowly becomes more comfortable to listen and maybe add some of his own thoughts.

Will sit you down and tell you in a very serious way that you are amazing when you turn down a compliment. For example, he’ll compliment you for your writing and you say something along the lines of “I’m really not that good, I’m actually quite bad at it.” and he’d just get this serious face and be like “Amrâlime, you are one of the most talented people I’ve met, don’t talk about yourself like that.” Que him starting a whole rant about how beautiful and amazing and skilled you are and genuinely not understanding how you can’t see it too. Thorin has never been good with words, but he sure as hell is going to make sure you know how amazing he thinks you are.

He’s never thought much about sex or having a spouse, untill you came along. He first imagined himself topping, but when the moment finally arrived and you took the lead, he did not mind at all (he’s a switch).

You’re gonna have so much fun tying him up in bed and edging him. He’s not one to beg, or even ask for something in general, so it’s gonna be delicious when he finally does break

You introduce him to a whole new world regarding sex and toys. Thorin loves to experience all kinds of things with you and eventually settles on his own preferences and dislikes. He likes it that you’re a dom, it makes him feel taken care of. Being able to be so intimate and vulnerable with you was something he never knew he needed.

You met when the company stopped in Rivendell, where the company found you playing the piano. You had heard about the arrival of the dwarves and started a conversation with them. Soon you hit it off with Fili, Kili and Nori (for some reason I imagine him liking sex jokes and also being open to nsfw talk) and before you knew it you were part of the company. At first Thorin was against letting you join them, as he didn’t understand what business you could have with dwarves trying to reclaim their homeland, but during the quest you became closer and closer with him, talking about what Erebor was like before Smaug took over and what life was like for him and his family when Thorin had to lead his people to the blue mountains. Eventually the two of you started courting and Thorin asked you to marry him after Erebor was reclaimed, making you queen under the mountain.

[douxreviews]

Five Potential Storylines for Amazon's Lord of the Rings Series

Ever since it was announced that Amazon was making a (very expensive) series based on J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, speculation has been rife about what the whole damn thing would actually be about.

For a long time the popular theory was that the series would chronicle the adventures of a young Aragorn. This left a lot of people depressed. The king ranger formerly known as Strider may be one of the franchise's most beloved characters, but no one was excited about seeing a show about his teenage years. Thankfully, all this Adventures of Young Aragorn nonsense was put to bed when the show's official Twitter account slowly revealed that it would in fact be set in the Second Age of Middle-Earth, thousands of years before Aragorn was even born.

The Second Age is not one that is covered extensively in Tolkien's witting. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings depicted events from the end of the Third Age, while all the works edited and published posthumously by Christopher Tolkien, such as The Silmarillion, The Children of Húrin, Beren and Lúthien, and The Fall of Gondolin, mainly deal with events from before and during the First Age. Most of what we know about the Second Age comes from the Appendixes from The Lord of the Rings and the final two parts of The Silmarillion, which is mostly just a recap of the major events. So a lot of people are rather excited about this opportunity to delve deeper into a mostly untouched part of Middle-Earth lore. Assuming, that is, it remains respectful to Tolkien's work.  

While Amazon has nicely told when this show will be set, we're still utterly clueless regarding what it will actually be about. The Second Age lasted for a rather long time, 3,441 years to be exact, and in that time many wars were fought and many kingdoms rose and fell. There's a (lonely) mountain's worth of potential stories for them to choose from. But, based on what limited material has been released so far, I have a very strong feeling that these are the ones that the show will likely cover over its proposed five seasons.

Warning: If you want to go into this show completely spoiler free, don't read any further, because I'm going to talk in detail about the major events of the Second Age including the fates of certain characters.

The Forging of the Rings of Power

The maps Amazon released in the build up to the reveal about the Second Age setting each came with a different verse from the Ring rhyme:

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie

The final map showed Middle-Earth at the beginning of the Second Age complete with the island of Númenor and, perhaps more importantly, the Elven kingdom of Eregion. Why is Eregion more important? I'll tell you. You see, it was in Eregion where the Rings of Power, save for the One Ring, were originally forged by the elf smith Celebrimbor with the help of a bloke named Annatar, who called himself the Lord of Gifts and claimed to be an emissary of the Valar, who were essentially the gods of Middle-Earth. This was all a lie. He was actually Sauron in disguise.

The use of the rhyme and the inclusion of Eregion on the map strongly suggests that the show will cover, in some part, the making of the rings as well as Sauron's rise to power. Which makes sense if they still want to call it The Lord of the Rings. This could also be our first chance to see Sauron as an actual character rather than a special effect. During this time he still had his original form, and often took on a "fair" appearance to trick people into doing his bidding. So, yeah, prepare yourselves for people being thirsty for hot Sauron.

The War of the Elves and Sauron

Once the other nineteen Rings of Power were made, Sauron returned to Mordor and forged the One Ring.  When he put it on the Elves became aware of who he really was and hid the other Rings from him. This started a war between Sauron and the Elves, led by High King Gil-Galad, that resulted in the destruction of Eregion, the death of Celebrimbor and the almost complete defeat of the Elves of Middle-Earth. Only the last minute intervention of Númenor saved them from total destruction. If the show is going to cover the making of the Rings, it is only natural that it will then feature the war that followed. Amazon wants this series to be their Game of Thrones so they are going to want lots of action and epic battles. Hopefully they won't want lots of sex too, because that is sure to piss off the Tolkien purists.

The Origins of the Nazgûl

Since the show is almost certain to cover the forging of the Rings of Power, it stands to reason that we'll get to see who they are given to. This means we might get an answer to one of the great mysteries of Tolkien's mythology – just who the hell were the Nazgûl? Almost nothing is known about who the Nine Ringwraiths were before they all fell under Sauron's power. Three were possibly Númenóreans and one was an Easterling king named Khamûl, but apart from that nothing else is known about them. If Tolkien had any idea what their real identities were, he never mentioned it in any of his writing, at least nothing that has been released. This show could finally answer that question. Of course, that means we have to accept risk that the answer may disappoint.

The Decline and Fall of Númenor

As I said earlier, Amazon is setting this up as the potential successor to Game of Thrones, which means as well as action and battles they'll also wants tons of political scheming and backstabbing. Well, they'll certainly get all that from Númenor, Tolkien's take on the Atlantis myth.

The Second Age is sometimes called the Age of Númenor. The island nation was the dominant political and military power of that age. But as its power grew, Númenor became increasingly corrupt. Although blessed with lifespans three times that of normal humans, the people of Númenor grew resentful of the Elves and their immortality and turned against them and the Valar (the gods of Middle-Earth). The island became divided between the Faithful, a pro-Valar faction, and the King's Men, the anti-Valar faction. Sauron took advantage of this schism and allowed himself to be taken to Númenor as a prisoner, where he set to work destroying the nation from within. He convinced the people to worship Melkor (the first Dark Lord and Sauron's former master during the First Age) and to wage war against the Valar by invading their homeland in the west. The invasion was an utter catastrophe that resulted in the complete destruction of Númenor.

Now this is where adapting these stories gets tricky. Because the Second Age was so long many of the major events are centuries or even millennia apart. There's at least 1,500 years between the forging of the One Ring and the fall of Númenor. If the show is looking to cover all of these, it will either have to employ some pretty big time jumps or condense all the action so that all these events overlap. The latter seems the more sensible option as it would allow the show to hold on to the same human characters for its duration.

The War of the Last Alliance

If the show is going to start with Sauron making the One Ring, it's only natural that it should end with him losing it.

After the destruction of Númenor, the Faithful, led by Elendi and his sons Isildur and Anárion, fled to Middle-Earth, where they founded the kingdoms of Arnor in the north and Gondor in the south. Although his body was destroyed, Sauron's spirit also survived the fall and soon returned to Mordor and the One Ring. Once he'd fully regained his strength he attacked Gondor forcing King Gil-galad to form the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, which also included dwarves and other creatures so really should've been called the Last Alliance of Men and Elves and Dwarves and Other Creatures, but that isn't as catchy. The War of the Last Alliance is the ideal ending point for this series. It marks the end of the Second Age, the defeat of the main villain (if temporary), the death of most of the major characters, and sets the stage nicely for what eventually happens in The Lord of the Rings.

Mark Greig has been writing for Doux Reviews since 2011

[hobbuisness-lotr]

Gone - Part 2

Send me some feedback on what you think should happen!!

Part 1 - Part 3

The Battle of the Five Armies, as it is now being called, is utterly horrific. You and Bilbo try to stay out of the fighting at first, but in the end cannot stand by as the ones you still consider friends are in danger. Bilbo finds out that Azog is at Ravenhill, and from there you can only assume that Thorin is there as well. At this point you and Bilbo separate. Bilbo goes to chase after Fili and Kili and you continue on in search of Thorin.

You barely manage to find him in time to save the stupid kings life. The Eagles arrive just in time, two of them land, one gathering Thorin in its claws and the other takes Fili and Kili, leaving you and Bilbo on top of Ravenhill.

“Y/N!”

“Bilbo!”

Your brother scrambles closer, taking in the various cuts and bruises from your fight to get to Thorin, “Are you alright? Is … is the baby alright?”

“I’m – I’m fine, nothing more than some cuts and bruises. I think the baby is fine, I haven’t felt anything different. I’m just exhausted and filthy”

Bilbo chuckles, “I think we would both benefit from a bath, sister dear”

“Yes, I believe we would, but first we need to find our way out of this place and back to the elves, perhaps they can spare some bandages and food.”

“Indeed, we will also need to find Gandalf, he said that he would take be able to take us home”

You climb stiffly to your feet, “Home, I'm not sure where home is anymore”

Your brother stands beside you, one of his hands rests on your shoulder the other still grips Sting tightly, “Then we will return to the Shire, Gandalf did mention that this adventure would change us, perhaps not all for the better”

“I’m tired, Bilbo. I just want to feel safe again and I want to get away from the dwarves. We’ve been labeled traitors and I won’t risk my child’s life any more than I have to”

“Very well. You stay with the elves, you know that the dwarves won’t travel into their camp. I’ll travel to the dwarven camp, unseen, and find Gandalf”

“Thank you, just – just make sure you’re careful”

Bilbo presses his forehead against yours, a habit that had been passed on from the dwarves, “Always”

--

Thankfully it doesn’t take Bilbo very long to find Gandalf, he also manages to find out that everyone in the Company survived and only Thorin, Fili, and Kili are seriously injured. When they ask after you Bilbo tells them that you were injured and are currently in the healing tents of the elves.

“Is she alright? If she’s hurt she should be brought here, we can take much better care of her than those tree-shaggers!” Nori growls, his eyes locking on the elf camp

“No, no, she needs her rest and she’s … uncomfortable … with being anywhere near Thorin right now. Y/N doesn’t want to be near any dwarves right now, almost being shoved of a mountain can make you wary of certain people”

Ori makes a soft sad sound, “Thorin was sick, he’s no longer suffering from the gold-sickness. You know we don’t blame you for the Arkenstone, right?”

Bofur nods so quickly that his hat nearly falls off, “Yeah! We know you two aren’t traitors, that you did it to help protect us. To be honest with you, laddie, we were all a little gold mad at first”

The hobbit gives the dwarves one last hug and accepts the pack pushed into his hands. “If any of you are ever passing Bag End, uh...tea is at 4. There's plenty of it. You are welcome anytime.”

“Perhaps we will take you up on that offer, Master Hobbit” Dwalin pats Bilbo’s shoulder one last time. “Tell Y/N … tell the lass that we’re sorry, you hear?”

“Of course, my friend. I will be sure to let her know that you all hold no ill will towards her. We’ll have to send letters, I know that I would enjoy knowing how you all fare”

Ori grins, “Of course! You must send us letters, we’re still friends!”

“Goodbye, my friends.”

--

Thranduil brushes the flap to your tent open, waving his hand at the healer that had just finished wrapping the various cuts across your arms and smearing a paste on the large gash that slices across your brow and down to your cheek. “Gandalf and your brother have left the dwarf camp. I will provide two ponies and provisions for you and Master Bilbo, I will also provide an escort to take you through Mirkwood”

“Thank you, King Thranduil. Your kindness is much appreciated”

The elf king crouches down and places a hand gently on your still flat stomach, “Unlike the dwarves, elves can sense new life, My Lady. Children are precious, and innocent, neither of you deserved the way that dwarf threatened you, he does not see what he is losing”

“Thank you. I am honored to have made a friend in you, King Thranduil”

“The honor is mine, My Lady. Come now, it is time for you to begin your journey back to the Shire.” Thranduil wraps another warm cloak over your shoulders and walks you to the two packed ponies on the edge of his camp. “Goodbye my friend, perhaps someday we will meet again”

You flash a small smile to the elven king, “If you ever travel to Rivendell to visit Lord Elrond I would love to come see you there, My King”

“Of course, I will send a letter the next time I visit, you will have to bring your little one, I would love to meet them” The kings hand touches your stomach once again, “I have not held a child since my own son was just a babe”

“I’ll send you a letter once the baby is born”

“Thank you. Goodbye now, My Lady.”

You wave as you trot away, three armored elves riding behind you, “Thank you all for guiding us through the forest”

“Our king has commanded it, we are glad to obey our king”

Nodding quietly the four of you continue to make your way to where your brother and Gandalf are waiting. “Y/N!”

“Hello, brother! I’m glad to see that the dwarves didn’t kill you on sight”

Bilbo rolls his eyes and slides of Gandalf’s horse to climb onto his own pony, “No, they didn’t. Everyone survived the battle, only Fili, Kili, and Thorin were seriously hurt. Everyone … everyone was worried about you, they wanted you to know that they are sorry for what happened”

“Ah – well – yes – well I am glad they all survived, I had hoped that they did”

“Of course you had, Miss Baggins, now come you two. If we want to get through the mountains before the paths are blocked by snow we must leave now. I have already sent word to Lord Elrond that we are beginning our return journey”

“Of course, Gandalf” The old wizard quickly spurs his horse onward, leaving you and your brother to ride next to each other. Bilbo sends a few longing looks back to the Lonely Mountain, he obviously doesn’t expect you to catch him looking, “You could stay you know. Even if you aren’t welcome in the mountain I’m sure Bard would house you in Dale. I know that our friends would love to have you so close”

Bilbo snorts, “Nonsense, even if I had considered moving to Erebor with you when you married Thorin I would not do so now. You are going to be having my little niece or nephew and I will not leave you alone to deal with the other hobbits, nasty bunch of gossips that they are.”

You give Bilbo a soft smile, turning yourself towards the Lonely Mountain. You watch as Erebor gets smaller and smaller on the horizon. Soon enough it is gone, just like you.

Send in requests!

[tanoraqui]

Oh hell, I’m stuck on my main nano thing. Let’s just…remember this? Okay, continuing in that style; warning: you won’t get that much out of this if you haven’t both read LotR (or at least watched it) AND watched Critical Role.

So, our story begins on Wilhand Trickfoot’s eleventy-first birthday, which happens to be his neice Pike’s thirty-third, and thus coming-of-age. To the excitement of all of the Shire who are invited, and all those who aren’t but will show up anyway (that is, the rest) there is to be a party of “special magnificence”…

The camera may pan first, however, to a simple cart trundling up the rode to Hobbiton. The cart is simple, but the man who drives it is not: skin naturally dark with tan, hair darker yet, woven with beads of gold, and purple robes worthy of a king—if, perhaps, a little worn with travel. And the contents of the cart! Simple brown boxes, yes, but the clever hobbit children already growing in a crowd, trailing behind, know what they hide. For they recognize the mark: a runic G.

“G for Gigantic!” they whisper not-so-quietly. “G for Grand!”

“I prefer ‘Glorious’” the man calls over his shoulder, or so he seems.

“What you are,” says another hobbit, “is late.” [the movies were very good, okay.]

She stands in a tree by a bend in the road, dark hair streaked with blue, hands on her hips, a little older than those trailing behind the cart. Just on the cusp of adulthood. It is, in fact, her birthday.

“A wizard is never late, Pike Trickfoot,” the glorious driver of the cart says sternly. But he cannot hide the laughter in his eyes. “Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

Pike Trickfoot does not bother to hide the laughter. She leaps as it bubbles out, without a care that she might miss the headboard and hit the fireworks instead. She does not, of course.

“Gilmore! It is good to see you again. Wilhand’s been worrying you wouldn’t make it.”

The Party happens. There are wonderful fireworks, including a raging white dragon. There is dancing, and singing—in no small part from Pike’s friend and companion Mr. Scanlan Shorthalt, just a few years older than she. Deft of finger and defter of wit, Scanlan was regarded as a bit of a rogue among the more proper Shirefolk, but always popular among the “wild” youth. And all agreed he could play the shawm as fine as you please, and a dab hand at lute and panpipes to boot. (For all that, Pike is ever-immune to his attempts to woo her, halfway earnest though they are.)

Wilhand gives a brilliant speech, and disappeared. He and Gilmore discussed old adventures, and older treasures. Pike gave chase, s far as Bag End, and inherited a ring. And, you know, Bag End. All of it. It was quite a lot. Really, what’s a single piece of jewelry to an entire household?

(Lol.)

Ought I start the story again, some seventeen years later? When Pike has lived on in Bag End, in Hobbiton, with its rolling his and gentle wind nd sun; its happy, homely folk and their busy farms, rivaled only by their busy gossip…

The latest, I hear, is that Miss Sybil Cotton is with child, and will not tell whom the father is. Some wonder if she even knows. Others, who could be worth protecting. Hobbits, though overall kind, do love a good gossip.

Let’s skip some of the boring bits, shall we? Gilmore reappearing in the dead of night, slamming the doors and flinging Pike’s ring into the fire. Dark words in gold, twisted and burning. A danger. A doom. A plan.

So: preparation. Pike hints that Wilhand’s dragon gold is finally running out, and sells Bag End—dear Bag End, dear childhood home—to her cousin JB Trickfoot, who is by far the least troublesome of her less favorable relations. A timid lass, but not unkind, nor full of avarice (beyond, perhaps, for books, and a healthy, hobbitly affection for mushrooms.)

Scanlan accompanies her as far as her “new” home of Crickhollow, but here’s the thing: Scanlan is a bit of a rogue. At least, he is chronically curious, and nearly as clever as that, and always loves great tales and very rarely took no for an answer. So, that night Gilmore told Pike the legend of the One Ring? He my have been…listening. At the window. And the book Wilhand had been working on for years, the true story of his travels, which he never let anyone but Pike read? Scanlan may have…read that. Just a little. Just a glimpse! (He had to jump back out the window when he heard footsteps coming.)

Also, he does know Pike, and it is clear that she is not just preparing to move houses. She is too sad. And Pike does not get sad like a simple hobbit, with a good cry and some beer. She gets sad like an elf, wandering the hills and growing distant, almost ethereal when the light hits her just right. There has always been something odd about Pike Trickfoot.

Scanlan thinks of many things, as he lets his best friend lie to him (for a time.) He thinks of how he has always dreamed of being part of a story: a real one, an important one, far grander than the little tales and jokes he tells in the taverns each night. He thinks of how Pike, whom he does love, is going into danger surely too great for any lone hobbit, and that he would fain even the odds, however slightly. And he thinks, with some guilt, how he, Scanlan Shorthalt, is really very nervous of being in Hobbiton, or even the Shire at large, in…oh, nine months time. Eight, maybe. The longer the stay away, the safer, probably.

Eventually…

“I’m not staying here, Scanlan,” Pike says quietly. There is an urge to fidget with the ring on the chain round her neck, but she knows that is a bad idea, so she twists her fingers together instead. “I know I made a big to-do about moving here, but the truth is…”

“You’re going to Rivendell,” says Scanlan, and lifts a laden pack from among the luggage they’ve dumped on the floor. “Don’t worry, so am I.”

(Already they have hidden on the road from Black Riders, who left a chill in the air as they passed. But still Scanlan grins, if only because Pike looks like he has hit her with a croquet mallet.)

In the Forest, they are nearly buried alive by a curmudgeonly old willow, and get saved by a bizarre man who calls himself Matt Mercer, wears yellow galoshes and speaks only in song. His wife is the daughter of a ray of sunlight, with hair like flickering flames, and when he puts on the Ring he smiles and does not disappear. [Confession: when convincing people to read Lord of the Rings, I often give them permission to skip the Tom Bombadil chapters. Amazing worldbuilding, Tom and the barrow-wrights alike, but SO useless to the plot.]

Here is more sensical worldbuilding: he town of Bree is the only one in all Middle-Earth, so far as the writer(s) of this tale know, where hobbits and big men live side-by-side, with only as much strife as most neighbors have. The inn is bustling, and well-ready for folk of both sizes. Pike and Scanlan welcome the warm beds, and warmer company, as it was another dark, terrifying race to the ford. All nine Rides in pursuit, their voices fell, their dark hooves pounding and dark hands reaching, calling—something in Pike’s throat, or at least around it, calling back—

Now, the hobbits drink in peace, in the warmth of a fire and a crowded, happy inn. But a stranger sits in a dark corner, and Pike cannot help but glance their way from time to time.

“Oh, that’s a Ranger,” says the innkeeper, Laina, when Pike flags her down to ask (and for another mug of ale.) “Minxie, that one goes by. She’s alright.”

“’Alright’?” asks Pike.

“Well, they mostly keep to themselves, Rangers,” says Laina. “Strange folk. One time…”

Pike loses track of the innkeep’s anecdote, because Scanlan has clambered onto a table and begun to play songs many minutes ago. That is fine—they are trying to be incognito, but even the dark forces of the world could not stop Scanlan from preforming for an audience, and Pike loves him for it. What was not fine is that now he has started to tell tales, which mostly meant gossip—and that, with the event so recent, meant Wilhand’s mysterious disappearance at his own birthday party.

“Excuse me,” says Pike, and dashes over to vault onto the table beside him. She pitches her voice to carry. “Good folk of the Greyskull Keep! I must thank you for your hospitality! Rest assured, when I finish my book, Bree will be well-accounted for as a town most welcoming, and most bestowed—and bestowing!—with great food, and ale, and company!”

She raises her mug, toasting the now-cheering crowd.

“That said, I think it might be time my companion and I retired for night, for tomorrow will be another busy day of—”

Maybe someone jostles the table. Maybe a crowd of tipsy, sloppy cheers left too much ale for to slip on. Maybe Pike has had a mug too many herself, and has lost her usual balance.

Maybe darker forces conspire. As she falls, Pike’s hand goes to her pocket, and as she hits the floor (really a very little fall) her finger slips just so, and the world fills with fog. Voices and shapes all muffled, though they are all exclaiming.

Pike crawls frantically out of the crowd, to the nearest corner and secure table under which to hide, and yanks the Ring off her finger.

No sooner has she stowed it once more beneath her shirt, than a big man’s hand grabs her by the scruff of her shirt and yanks her up. A big woman’s actually—Pike finds herself staring up, in mute terror, at the mysterious Ranger. Her face is still in shadow, but Pike can see sharp eyes, and a sword at her belt.

“You are foolish, and not safe here even if you were wise,” says Minxie. “I will meet you in your room, and we will talk.”

[onceabluemoonwrites]

In the Name of Love

Fandom: Yuri on Ice

Summary: There is a child in Mila’s court, and it is definitely not an elf. It’s got black hair, chubby cheeks, curious brown eyes and a habit of trying to hide behind Mila even when she’s five centimetres tall.   …It squeals when it sees Phichit, and keeps touching his horns.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice

FF.net | AO3 | Tumblr (my other entries: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)

You can find my writing progress here.  If you can’t keep straight who’s what kind of creature anymore, here’s a list, plus some extra background information for those who’d like to read it!

My fic master list here.

This was written for the Yuri on Ice Fantasy week ( @yoifantasyweek for those interested in checking out the other authors) 11/17/17- Day Five: Pink/Silver. I used the prompts from both colours, ‘’Love,’’ from pink and ‘’Moon,’’ from Silver.

This is part of the Land of Gods and Monsters ‘verse. It’s not strictly necessary, but probably handy if you read Fathoms Deep (My Heart Resides) before this story. But if you’re here for the cute only, by all means, proceed.  You can find a note on the chronology of this ‘verse here.

Phichit is a Phaya Naga, a dragon-like deity.

Sound in the world above is strange. Phichit could throw a rock into the valley right now, and the sound would echo against the mountains endlessly- contained to this valley only. Who knows how far down it would go?

…Not farther than the ground. The world above is strange like that. It has a bottom.

Does the sea have a bottom? Logically, Phichit knows it has, but he has never liked logic much, and he’d rather not think about it.

There are so many wonderful things to see here! The sun is so bright, one moves so fast! And air! Not even Phichit’s wildest dreams had prepared him for breathing air!

It doesn’t matter that sound is strange above, because Phichit is itching to find someone to talk to, and the world is a beautiful place!

There are, to Phichit’s surprise, bodies of waters which do not belong to Seung-gil. They lie in the cradle of the earth as if embraced by Hiroko herself. Humanity- the short-lived, funny creatures they are- live along its shores. But even they have smothered their fires by now, and the only light left is the moon. Humanity, all of it, sleeps.

The night is the colour of ink, the trees dipped in silver, and it swallows all sound.

It is silent.

It wrenches at him. Even here, staring at the reflection of a round orb in space, he is reminded of Seung-gil. Was the moon painted with the Lightgiver’s melancholy? Because it’s all Phichit can feel as he stares at it.

It looks like Seung-gil, pale as it is. A face, staring back at him, not speaking a word. Never changing.

The water ripples and the image distorts.  

Perhaps it was Phichit who gazed up at the surface for such a long time that he never saw the depths.

Water is ever-changing.

…He should not dwell on it too long- there is too much he wants to see. Tomorrow will be another bright day, and even Gods need their rest.

Once, when Phichit was sunning, he saw Love standing upon the mountain above him. His name was Jean-Jacques, and he was cradled in a nest of thorns. High, he stood, so incredibly high, his companions a black swan and a drove of sparrows, circling him and crying out as if declaring his glory unto the world.

His visage was beautiful, but then again, there was not a single thing Phichit had ever loved that had not become beautiful in his eyes.

At night, the swan swooped down from the mountain. ‘’Please, talk to my lord,’’ she says, orange beak moving along black feathers, ‘’He must speak to you.’’

And Phichit… Phichit almost did. But what does one say to the God who gave you the greatest gift and the most terrible curse simultaneously? What did you say to a man who’s lips invented speech, who’s very being sings of communication- so loudly it is hard to think, let alone speak?

What can one do, except feel, when faced with love?

Love invented communication, but it renders even the most well-spoken people speechless. Jean-Jacques is beautiful, but Phichit has left the one he loves behind. He is not sure he can handle the heartbreak that is the God of Love blinking- for with every minute closing of his lively eyes, another heart is broken.

He leaves a letter with Isabella, the swan, and that’s that. (Did it burn, in the name of love?)

That Jean-Jacques is more than just love for people does not occur to him until later. It is far too late by then.

Phichit always is.

His love for the world had its price. He’s run back to the sea by now, and he could turn every grain of sand and still not recognize the place where he left his lover. He left his heart on the shore- that must be it. God, how he is lonely.

…He’ll talk to Boy Love the next time, he swears.

(He never does- the world is too shiny, and Jean-Jacques is too high above him. How does one speak to the one who inspired worship?)

The world is silent, and Phichit left his ever-silent lover for it.

He is… Lacklustre for a while. Dead inside is a strong word, and Phichit is nothing if not lively. And the world is too. Lively, mind you, not lacklustre.

It’s beginning to change, to grow. Not the land mass- that stays the same. But the people. The group of barely twenty-four humans has grown to a hundred. There are spirits in the trees, winged creatures born from the world-song, and more and more gods awaken to the dawn of time.

From the grass emerges a child- an elf, she calls herself- no larger than Phichit’s thumb. She walks a thousand miles on her tiny legs, just to witness the world.

‘’Won’t you let me carry you?’’ he asks.

She shakes her head, short red hair swinging from side to side. ‘’I need to do this. This is my journey.’’

‘’…Where are you going?’’

She laughs. ‘’To my future! Is that not where all roads lead?’’  

Tiny feet blistered, height, weather, time nor pain stopping her, Mila walks. She dances in the sun, using flowers as springboards and winds herself around his horns to sleep when she’s tired. Not because she needs to, but because she can. A dewdrop is a flood to her, but the idea of floods stopping her is laughable.

She meets Hiroko, her eyes widening at seeing the earth she has walked on all her life. It takes time, but her eyes soften, the sky caught in an earthen creature. It takes time, but Mila bows to Hiroko, her forehead, forehead and knees touching the ground. Red hair mingling with green grass, and it is nothing but regal in its total devotion. It takes time, but it also takes heart, and Mila’s bond with Hiroko is so strong she sprouts the wings.

Hiroko crowns her with flowers, and Mila wears it with pride, and it takes little time for Phichit to start calling her a Queen.

The world follows.

More fairies gather around Hiroko, but no one ever as powerful as the first.

Her love is the strongest, Phichit can feel it in his bones, even though love should not be measured. Is that what Boy Love thinks about, up his mountain, when he looks down at them in sorrow?

Mila takes to the sky, loving the earth more than anything, and it reduces Phichit to tears of joy. The world is beautiful. The world is beautiful, and so is love.

There is a child in Mila’s court, and it is definitely not an elf. It’s got black hair, chubby cheeks, curious brown eyes and a habit of trying to hide behind Mila even when she’s tiny.

…It squeals when it sees Phichit, and keeps touching his horns.

‘’He,’’ Mila says, taking advantage of his larger form by sunning on his nose. ‘’Hiroko’s son.’’

‘’I thought she had a daughter.’’

Mila laughs. ‘’She does! She’s true big folk now, though! Twenty-three meters, last I saw her! The trees will flourish under her rule!’’

‘’Rooted in the earth. The poor thing. She’ll never get to explore.’’

Mila flops to her stomach. ‘’Not everyone wants to travel.’’

Phichit shrugs. ‘’Can’t imagine. There are too many sights still to see!’’

How can one not love traveling? Then again, how can one’s heart break? How does one love? The world is a confusing place.

‘’If everyone loved the same things, the world would be fine, wouldn’t it?’’

Yuuri looks up from Phichit’s tail, his nose scrunching up, cherry juice smeared around his mouth. ‘’But I don’t like green peppers.’’

‘’And?’’

‘’Mama makes me eat them. She likes ‘em good.’’

…Phichit is not going to correct that- the last time he did, Yuuri shut up for a week and only came out after Phichit lured him with food. You go a long way with food when it comes to toddlers.

‘’You don’t hafta play with the same toys to be friends,’’ Yuuri says, patting Phichit on the nose with sticky hands. ‘’Mari doesn’t want to go on ‘ventures, but she showed me the leaf dance cos she likes it and now I liked it too. I thinked it would be scary, but it wasn’t!’’

‘’I can hardly disagree with that!’’

Yuuri squints at him.

Oh, by the sea, the boy is precious! Golden, he shines, when he loses all his shyness for a single moment and is. Like a treasure.

Like a Treasure!

And with that, Phichit bursts out in laughter. He can’t help the past, but the present is here, and leaving Treasures behind is a mistake Phichit won’t make again. Yuuri is precious, and by all the Gods and Fathoms below, Phichit shall protect him.

The little Spring God has nothing to fear.

(Nothing, his mind whispers, but love.)

The next morning, he trades glass made from lightning for crystal balls. He has still not talked to the man high up the mountain, unreachable to all in his nest of thorns, but has seen so many things done out of love that he cannot help but worship him.

Everyone might not like the same thing, but Yuuri gives excellent advice. If Phichit catches each and every sunset he ever sees, every sight he devours and hopes he’ll never ever forget, then perhaps, Seung-gil would come to like it too.

And Phichit has to live now. No more letting the world pass by. The future rests in the present, and only then, one can live. And someday, Phichit will show the entire world to Seung-gil, caught in a crystal ball just for him.

And all of that, in the name of love.

Author’s Note

@adelmortescryche is an enabler. Just so you guys know. Love her!

Writing this piece was interesting, especially towards Phichit’s struggles, Mila’s past, and JJ. The JJ part is currently probably only interesting to me, because you guys don’t know what the last day is about yet and I can’t WAIT for you to read it *grins*.

I listened to a LOT of song covers by Emma Heesters while writing this one-shot. Most notably, her cover of In The Name of Love, which is absolutely gorgeous!

Yuuri disliking green peppers was inspired by the Disney movie Inside Out- the scene in which the main character is still small and refuses to eat her broccoli was changed for Japan! They replaced the broccoli with green peppers because they were ‘’more universally hated by Japanese children.’’ (source) 

Have I told you guys before I am the Queen of Useless facts? Because I read that AGES ago and had to find the article again to link to it just for this note *laughs*

[lady-of-starlight]

Let The Star Lead The Way - Chapter 9 - Autumn season

Thranduil was pacing inside his study, ignoring the elves standing around his table, as they were discussing the latest shipments from Dale and what they needed for the next delivery: it was going to be the biggest one for the whole year -  the harvest festival was practically around the corner, and the festivities needed to be fully arranged in time. Usually the King enjoyed his feasts, but this time he seemed to have little patience to focus on such things, as he had more burning matters that demanded his attention. His son being one of them.

“I hope he has arrived safely... It’s been several weeks, it’s excruciating to not know how his journey has proceeded...”, he thought and turned his eyes towards the great map that was spread across one of the walls in the study. He knew the way to Imladris by heart, and so did Legolas. Yet the recent events and the uneasiness that was growing inside him left him feeling worried.

And then there was the matter of that girl...

By the Valar, he still couldn’t understand how things had proceeded that way, and so fast. She had an amazing ability to make him to lose his temper and his control, both at once. But at the same time, her fierceness fascinated him. He hadn’t faced such an infuriating yet intriguing creature for a long time, not since...

Thranduil stopped on his tracks, as he felt a sudden burst of pain flashing through him. No. He would not think of her. The pain was still there, after all this time, nagging at him whenever he dared to think about the past. He always wondered if it would ever disappear completely.

Yet, as much as he had hated admitting it, the pain had grown weaker ever since the girl had appeared. Which, by default, made him feel more uneasy. He wasn’t even supposed to feel anything towards her, but it was easier to be said than done. He had learned it already long ago: One’s heart rarely answered to the mind’s will.

Thranduil let out a frustrated sound, then took off to the doors to his personal armory and swung them open, shouting over his shoulder to the elves still left inside the room:

“Enough. I need some fresh air.”

✽ ✽ ✽ So many weeks had passed since your arrival. Inside the realm nothing really changed, but you could see the passing of time in the woods around the realm: Slowly but surely, leaves in the massive trees had turned from shades of green towards the more golden and fiery colors of autumn. The winds that played amongst the trees suddenly felt more chilly, and the nights became longer, with the sun rising later every morning. It also affected the daily rhythm of the elves: Only the night patrol was allowed outside the gates after sundown, which meant that the hunters and those who gathered herbs, plants, berries and other things the forest had to offer, had fewer hours to complete their daily tasks. You had volunteered to help the gatherers and received a permission to go outside, but only when accompanied with at least one of your guardians. Tharon and Edraith had agreed on taking turns, one staying with you while the other was hunting prey with another group. Everyone had been working hard, as winter wasn’t far away and they needed to fill their storages. Now, you were assigned to gather some berries from a nearby field.

“Next time, I’m going with the herb group”, Edraith mutters under his breath, as he tries to get his hands on some berries growing inside a bush so thick and full of prickles it seems almost impossible to get to the berries.

You laugh. “You’re just too hasty. Patience,” you tease as you thread your fingers past the thorns, grabbing a cluster of plump, juicy-looking berries. “These are delicious, want some?” You ask as you bring a few to your own lips.

“No, thank you. I’m quite busy at the moment”, Edraith hisses through his teeth while reaching for another cluster of berries deep inside the bush.

“Too bad”, you shrug with a smile and eye at the other elves around you. There’s a couple of them working with another bush next to you, and a few more on the other end of the field. Guards stand on their posts, looking around as if waiting for something to show up. The lockdown procedures were reversed some time ago, allowing people outside the realm, but no one was still allowed to leave on their own and you always had to stay relatively close to the gates. Only the hunters and those who collected some rare herb species that growed further away were allowed to do longer journeys. They still had to carry more weapons with them in case there would be another ambush.

Suddenly, the guards tense. Something is coming, and they raise their bows. You reach for the small knife you have hidden inside your boot, when a shout comes from behind the trees. Other elves. No danger. Then, a huge elk and a few horses ride to the field, each carrying an elf, and your heart drops somewhere around your stomach.

Thranduil is here.

All the embarrassment you’ve nested in some far corner of your mind comes flooding back. You two haven’t even spoken with each other since that little incident during the last training session. And it appears it truly was the last one. You had spent days wondering whether he would still continue with the training or not, and for the next mornings you had made sure you were up early, rushing to the High chambers, hoping for... what? You still don’t know. But soon it became evident that there wasn’t going to be any continuation for your sessions. After the third lonely morning that you had spent sitting alone in the High chambers, you had finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t coming and left the room. Just to forget about the ache that was making its way through your heart, you had turned to your guardians in hopes that they could continue your training, since Legolas had left already weeks ago and most likely wasn’t going to return anytime soon. You were also deeply grateful for Emlineth and her capability to sense your dejection. She had led you to the library of the Woodland realm, which was massive: Rows and rows of shelves filled with books and scrolls and, judging by the look of the oldest ones, some of the writings probably dated all the way back to the First Age. You had spent many evenings there with your nose buried in a book, drinking in all the stories and historical writings accompanied with beautiful, hand-drawn maps and illustrations. It had effectively kept you busy and entertained most of the time, so there hadn’t been any need for you to face your emotions... Until now.

You see him sitting on his elk, looking regal and assertive as always, with his silken hair cascading over his shiny, silver-coloured armor. You notice he is carrying a bow and a set of arrows, which is unusual for him, so you guess they are out here to go for a hunt. Thranduil is changing words with the guards that came with your group, and you see them pointing towards the western path, where the hunting party had been earlier in the morning. You try to strain your ears to pick up their words, when Edraith jumps and yelps next to you, almost causing you to drop your basket full of berries.

“This damned bush will be the death of me!” He curses under his breath while investigating a cut in his arm, caused by one of the biggest thorns.

“I told you to be careful”, you lecture him, trying to bite back a grin as you lower your basket to the ground and pull a small piece of cloth from your pocket. “Hold still.”

“Funny, usually it’s our job to tell that to you”, he says with irony in his voice, accompanied with an eye roll, when you gently tap away the blood dripping from the cut.

“Shut up and stay still, or I’ll have to press harder and make this more painful”

“It’s not like I couldn’t tolerate a bit of pain for your sake, my lady”, he chuckles a bit and then, as if just realizing what he replied with, turns away with an abashed look on his face. You look at him, puzzled, when you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. You turn your head and freeze - Thranduil is staring at you two from the other side of the field, his look dark and so intense you can feel it piercing through your very soul, making you shiver.

You stare at each other for a time that feels like minutes, until you tear your eyes away from him and turn to look at Edraith’s arm, while trying to deal with the sudden feeling of heat bursting through your chest. You refuse to raise your head even when you hear the sound of hoofs galloping away from the field.

Your thoughts turn back to the past weeks that have gone by, with next to no sign of Thranduil, not before today. Part of the reason for not seeing him has been by your own doing, though - you had taken it as a habit to eat in the kitchens with Emlineth instead of spending the time in the dining hall. One time of trying to eat and sit quietly in the same room with the elf male that tormented your thoughts had been quite enough.

You know it’s useless to have any feelings towards him anyway. He had had a wife in the past, and although you didn’t know any of the details, their parting had been painful. It is painful for you as well to think about, and it only adds to the confusion swirling inside of you. You had searched the library a few weeks ago, in hopes of finding some description of his wife in the scrolls and papers, but with no luck. The only book you had found that had even a slight mention of her was a copy that included information about the family’s ancestry - and even then it was only one sentence at the top of one page: “--and so the Lord and Lady of the Woodland Realm were blessed with a beautiful son, who was to be known as Legolas”, with the rest of the text on the said page focusing only on Legolas and his position as the crown prince of the realm.

Weirdly enough, almost a quarter of the pages before and after this one had been ripped off, the last pages before the missing parts vaguely discussing Thranduil’s life in Doriath before its fall and his early times in the Woodland Realm, where he had ultimately ascended to the throne after his father Oropher had been slain in the war of Dagorlad. You couldn’t understand why someone would have wanted to erase every trace of someone with such a manner (although you had a quite heavy sense that it had been Thranduil himself who had torn off the missing pages), but you felt that pain and sorrow did weird things to everyone - making them to react in different ways, too.

Snapping back from your thoughts to the present moment, you notice that Edraith is staring at you curiously.

“Ah, she finally recovers. Lost in thought, huh?”

You blush slightly. “Apologies. I got carried away...”

“Not literally, I presume”, he teases as you put your napkin away - the cut in his arm has stopped bleeding and will heal just fine on its own - and he helps you to stand up. You give him an eye roll now, but secretly ponder on that idea, as your imagination starts flying. Indeed, what would it be like to get carried away by, say, Thranduil, sitting on that elk of his? Could it carry two? Most likely, although it would require you to sit very close to each other--

“Stop it! You’re just making this worse for yourself!” Your thoughts scream, but you can’t help but smirk a bit. One can always dream, though?

✽ ✽ ✽

Later, back in your chambers, you’re surprised with a pile of vibrant-colored fabrics, delivered by Emlineth, as she rushes to the room and drops the whole lot onto your bed.

“My lady, have you thought about your costume for the harvest feast? We don’t have that much time left, it would be good to start working with it right away.”

“Well, in fact I do”, you answer shyly, rushing to your desk, and pull out one of the books you brought from the library the day before. “I saw a wonderful illustration in one of the stories in this book, perhaps we could use it as a base for my gown? Not exactly a copy, but using some of the elements in it?”

Emlineth rushes to your side and takes a look at the page you’re showing her. “Oh yes, now this is something indeed. Perhaps a different neckline to suit you better, and the sleeves need to be longer... Mark my words, we will make sure that every male elf in this realm is going to fall on his knees when looking at you in this.”

You giggle but can only think about one particular elf whose attention you desire. Sighing, you pick up a piece of paper and start to sketch the gown.

Well, I’ll make sure to give him something to remember me of.

- End of chapter 9 -

Author’s notes: I just noticed I had gained new followers during my absence - thank you, from the bottom of my heart! It feels great to know that there are people who like my lil’ writings *takes a bow*

Oh, and just FYI -  In case if someone’s wondering whether this story goes with the lines of the written stories or the films, the answer is both. Mostly I’m just mixing Tolkien’s writings (from other books and essays too, not just The Hobbit or LOTR) and PJ’s film canons by the parts that fit together and, naturally, add some of my own imagination into the game.

[nadiaofazeroth]

Expression: Pt 3

Sometimes the least words say the most…

(Part three of a tale about tranquil mornings and nights of terror…how everything can change in the blink of an eye…how the moments we share can either keep us grounded or let our sanity slip away.)

“You asked for me?”

He froze at the melody of her voice, his pen ceasing its writing as he looked up from his work to find her standing in the open doorway. The torchlight streaming in from the hallway illuminated her form in a halo, and Vol’jin felt his stomach spin a complete 360° before he even stood up to greet her.

“Yes,” he rounded the wide desk before him that was engulfed in different papers, mindful of his pace so that he would not seem too eager to see her. “Thank ya for meetin’ me.”

“Please, it is my pleasure to be of assistance,” she smiled and dipped her head in respect as he came to a stop only a few feet in front of her. “At least, I assume I’m here to be of help in some way. Or else, Gallywix is going to be very disappointed to know I postponed our game of Hearthstone without just cause.”

“Trust me: afta his last defeat at your hands, ya be doin’ him a favor.”

The troll felt the corners of his lips twitch up when Nadia chuckled at his words, her eyes glittering with mirth when she lifter her gaze. He stepped to the side and gestured for her to enter, nodding at the guards outside to close the doors behind them as the pair moved to the large table in the middle of the room.

“We ‘ave finished with all talks regardin’ da Horde bein’ welcome back to the Kirin Tor,” he reached across the table for one of the larger parchments and slid it across the wooden surface closer to the mage, “and I be pleased ta say dat we have accepted ya terms.”

Nadia lifted the paper to get a better look, glancing over the signatures at the very bottom of the document she had presented only days ago. Vol’jin watched her read, waiting for any telling facial expressions that would alert him on how the conversation would turn next. However, he couldn’t help but be distracted by how long her eyelashes were...

“Well, Warchief, it seems you’ve made my day,” she glanced up at him with a coy grin, causing him to smirk back just as much, “though I can’t help but wonder why so many seem to have agreed without any hassle.”

“Da conditions ya negotiated fo’ us on our behalf were more den fair, ya even went so far as ta get dose expelled from da city reparations fo’ any losses.”

“I’ve never been one to allow condemning all based on the actions of a radical few,” she laid the paper back down, shifting her weight to her other foot while admiring her work. “It’s the least I can do if it will help people and their families return to their homes and continue their lives.”

“Yes...”

Vol’jin could feel the heat from her body, she had shifted that close to him with that subtle gesture. The had already been standing near each other initially, but now he physically feel her closeness to him, could smell her perfume. Something intoxicating...mouthwatering...

Loa, he must be really lonely if he was getting this bad...

“You surprise me, Warchief. You’re not what I expected at all.”

He relaxed a bit as the conversation continued, thankful not to be stuck in his own thoughts for much longer, “It all be part of da job.”

“And, by chance, have I managed to surprise you yet?”

Vol’jin blinked before his lips twisted into a wry smile. Ah, yes...the little game they’d been playing since her arrival. It began when she managed to keep up with them during one of their hunts, and on the back of one of the stable’s most ferocious raptors no less. 

“You seem a little shocked,” she had said when swinging off the still energized mount. Her lithe fingers affectionately scratched at the beast’s neck, making pleased chortles sound from its throat, “My, have I surprised you, Warchief?”

Still atop his own raptor when she grinned up at him, Vol’jin couldn’t help but fall into a series of deep chuckles as he smirked down at her.

“Not a bit, ya Ladyship.”

It was the truth; he knew from the start that she was the type of person who could hold their own and then some. However, it was impossible to tell if that was an appropriate answer by the way she reacted next. 

“Hmm,” she’d hummed, more to herself than to him, and then cast him the most mischievous glance before leading her mount away without another word. Vol’jin found himself more nervous around her than before, mostly blaming it on the way she had looked at him and how she twisted her hips when swaggering away, surely on purpose.

After that, things got a lot more lively around Grommash Hold.

Nadia exacted her next move the following evening. 

They, Horde and neutral dignitaries alike, had all gathered after dinner to socialize. She’d somehow convinced him to play a card game with her, a game he had previously thought himself to be fairly adept at...until she completely demolished him, that is.

“Surprised, Warchief?” she settled back into her chair with a toothy grin, slowly spinning the leather wristband she’d won off him around her finger. Her smile made him grin as well, the playful glint in her eye making Vol’jin almost delighted that he’d lost. Hell, he would lose all over again as long as she kept looking at him like that.

“Hardly,” he crossed his arms confidently over his chest, leaning back in his seat and offering her a half smile. His heart beat just a little faster when Nadia blushed at his grin, glancing away sheepishly and sliding his band over her slender wrist. 

The latest instance occurred only two days ago. She had already been there for a week, making everyones’ days more enjoyable, but her most famous incident occurred then. The shadowhunter found himself pacing quickly to the sparring ring upon hearing the news that Lady Ravenscroft and Regent Lord Theron had mutually agreed to duel. He panicked at the thought of her getting hurt, as that was the only outcome he could conjure up in his mind.

Imagine his utter shock when he pushed open the heavy doors and discovered Lor’themar on his knees in front of Nadia, clothes and armor both smoking and spattered with chunks of ice. Her battle wear had seen better days as well, and the mage’s persona of a collected ambassador had melted away, revealing the warrior underneath. The glint in her eyes was fierce, her humming staff aimed directly at the blood elf emitting enough power to intimidate any grown man.

Vol’jin sighed in relief when the two sheathed their weapons and shook hands, thankful that the two hadn’t killed each other. He didn’t stay at ease for too long, however, as their honored guest swaggered over to him soon after. The remnants of fire in her eyes, her well fitted armor, the sweat running down her face and neck, pooling between her breasts as they rose and fell with her heaving breathing...his own breath hitched when she stopped only two feet in front of him.

“Perhaps now, Warchief?” She panted, brushing some of her unkempt hair out of her gaze while flashing a tired yet satisfied smile.

Was he surprised? Yes...but he couldn’t give her the satisfaction of being right. Hopefully, she wouldn’t do anything else quite as wild if she thought he was impossible to shock. Though really, he just wanted this little exchange to go on.

Vol’jin smirked and trailed a finger lazily over one of his tusks, feeling his pride get a boost when they earned Nadia’s attention, “Not quite.”

If only he’d known that she was relentless...

And so, here they were. Staring into each others eyes, close enough to feel the heat from the other’s body, clearly acting out of their roles as faction leaders...

Nadia took a step forward, enough to where she was almost standing on his feet. The smile fell from her face, her full lips only partially open now as she gazed up at him with hooded lids, and the light and shadows cast on her face by the fire and torches adding a tempting glow to her skin. He could see her hand, still resting on the table, slide towards him across the surface, at which point she drew her fingers up arm. Vol’jin felt his insides spin for the second time that night.

“And now?” She questioned, her touch stopping when she reached his bicep, content with lingering over the taut muscles.

The troll raised one of his brows and sniffed, “Hardly.”

A part of him wished for her to stop, the part that was cynical and doubtful of her advances towards him, as there was no possible way she was actually flirting. He had also succeeded in swearing off this sort of thing for a while...

But the other part of him...ohh, the other part of him...

That part wanted her to keep working for it...That part was responsible for his nerves winding up, the chill that went down his spine when she began toying with the strap of leather on his arm, the heat that pooled in his belly when she leaned forward...

“What about...now?”

Her touch went cold as she continued to hold his gaze, and she giggled at the look of confusion in those eyes of molten gold. Vol’jin had no idea what she meant by that, until he saw thick specks of white begin to drift around behind her. He could feel them too, on his bare skin as they continued to fall, and he looked up.

It was snowing...indoors...

Nadia began laughing in delight at his look of astonishment as it kept on snowing in the room, falling gently onto the floor and furniture.

“What do you think?”

His eyes met hers again, wide at the revelation that she was responsible for this feat of fantasy. Nadia’s cheeks pinked at his intense expression, making his heart beat faster when she bit her lip and glanced around at her handiwork.

“This is my favorite little trick. It always makes people stop for a moment and take it all in.” Her gaze returned to him, the sparkle in her eyes one of pure whim, “Do you like it, Vol’jin?”

It was his name that did it...

Hearing her say it with such feeling, such sincerity, made something inside him snap.

Without another thought, without any hesitation at all...he grasped a fistful of her hair for dear life and plunged his lips onto hers.

It was like coming up for air after being forced underwater, breathtaking and paramount and divine all at once.

He pulled back just as quickly, carefully maneuvering his tusks away from her face, no longer entrapping her head in an ivory cage. 

“I, uh...” The troll brought a shaking hand out from her cascade of hair to his mouth, nervously wiping his lips as Nadia stared up at him in shock, “I’m so sorreh...I don’ - “

That was all he got to say before her hand grasped the back of his neck and pulled him back down into a passionate kiss. It took him a full three seconds to process what was happening before deepening the kiss, entangling his fingers in her hair once more and drawing her into an embrace with his free arm. 

The indoor snowfall continued around them, not that either cared in the least as they continued to express their desires that had been building all week. 

Her lips were soft, and the smell of her perfume was much stronger up close, so delectable that he wanted to bury himself in her scent. Their breaths had been reduced to harmonized panting, gasping for air when their lips parted only to clash together again just as desperately. The fire in his belly intensified when she moaned in pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck, to which he responded with a guttural growl when she playfully bit his lip.

It was impossible to tell how long they remained locked together, but the moment was cut short when there was a loud knock at the door. They broke apart and stepped away from each other, Nadia flushed and fixing her hair, and Vol’jin readjusting his clothes.

“What?” he snapped towards the door, both furious and embarrassed at being interrupted. 

“Ah, Saurfang has requested to speak to you in the war room,” the voice on the opposite side of the door replied hesitantly at the sound of their Warchief’s irritation.

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose with a still shaking hand, “Fine. Tell ‘im I be on my way.”

The sound of retreating footsteps out in the hallway echoed throughout the silence in Vol’jin’s study. It had stopped snowing around the same time they broke apart, though a fine dusting of white still remained on the tables and chairs. It was quickly evaporating, though, as though it had never happened. Neither troll spoke, or could muster up the courage to look at each other.

“Should I, um, come back?”

He turned to her so quickly, and with such a look of surprise that her blush intensified as she played with the ends of her hair.

"I - I don’t mean that in a weird way, or like I just want to do this again - I mean we could play cards again or - or just talk - “

Nadia’s cheeks continued to hold their red tint as she groaned and covered her face sheepishly with her hands. Vol’jin found himself snickering at her sudden mood shift; it was nice to see that even she could become embarrassed and full of nerves. Boldly, he gently reached out and brushed some of the remaining snowflakes off her cascade of indigo hair.

“Do ya want ta come back?” he leaned in a bit closer again, a coy grin making its way across his lips as he waited for her to drop her hands so he could see those vibrant eyes once more before she left. Finally, she lowered them and held his gaze, a small smile appearing as her red cheeks dimmed to a soft pink.

“Yes...”

....

He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead as this other memory faded away in his mind like all the others that had been haunting his conscience ever since arriving in Stranglethorn. His other hand tightened into a fist, the same one that had her necklace secured around his wrist, as that memory continued to abandoned all his senses...

“Warchief?”

Opening his eyes, Vol’jin found that almost everyone was looking at him from across the war table. Most were waiting patiently for him to respond. Others, on the other hand, seemed to be making a study of him. It had been that way ever since they’d led that attack on the small party of Gurubashi soldiers camped out in the jungle, in the same place traces that the hostages had been held there were found...along with Nadia’s necklace. 

He couldn’t blame them for keeping a close eye on him; Vol’jin himself was suspicious he was slowly spiraling out of control as well.

“Ya, we can handle da attack from da south,” he finally replied, looking back down at the large map spread before everyone in attendance.

Almost everywhere they had marked to search next had been crossed out. Upon successfully capturing and getting all the information they desired out of a captured sentry, it was revealed that everyone was being held in the same place. Zul’gurub.

It had been a while since he’d been involved with the machinations of this nearly impenetrable bastion. The city had fallen off the radar ever since successfully eliminating the Zandalari presence and Hakkar worshipping (and frankly insane) leaders and followers. With little to no activity being reported from Bambala and Grom’gol Base Camp, most assumed that the civilians had been left to regroup.

And that was the case until, apparently, Bloodlord Mandokir managed to weasel his way back to life and into a position of power once again.

The conversations and debates taking place all fell into the background when blood rushed through his ears as his bottled up nerves, pain, and anger became irritated at the thought of that damned maniac. 

Vol’jin had resolved himself to kill that monster. Everyone would be fighting over that pleasure, particularly the father of the young prince who had been taken. But no matter how many obstacles got in his way...he would kill Mandokir.

“And what about the Lady Ravenscroft? It is possible they’re keeping her separate from everyone else,” the mention of her name by Proudmore almost brought him back out of his thoughts, so he paid a bit more attention now while envisioning all the ways to off Mandokir and keep him dead.

“Shouldn’t we just assume that she’s dead?”

Now that got his full attention.

Everyone along with Vol’jin turned their glares and looks of shock to Ambassador Farbreath of Darnassus. The Warchief didn’t know his first name, nor did he care to find out. He didn’t really have to either, as this elf’s last name had garnered enough fame by itself. From what the troll knew, he had been sent in place of the two younger dignitaries that had been captured, Tyrande having no option but to send the reserve. He was also infamously xenophobic, hateful of “lesser” races, and a long string of other “anti’s” and “phobias”. 

“What exactly do you mean, Farbreath?” Jaina seemed to be expressing everyone’s offense at the suggestion, as her scowl was one of the most intense.

“Ravenscroft is a half-breed, as well all know.” He began with a roll of his eyes, the exclusion of Nadia’s title no mistake, “She’s next to garbage in the eyes of those brutes and has likely been treated as such. It would be in our best interest to put our resources into finding our own people first.”

The shadowhunter almost lost it right then and there, but Proudmore beat him to the cut.

“Lady Ravenscroft is one of my people,” she tilted her head up to glower down her nose at the night elf, even though he was taller than her, “and I will see that she is returned to us.”

She wasn’t the only one who was now upset. The worgen girl from before was literally shaking with rage, King Wrynn’s glare had intensified...even Ambassador Spiritend looked more pissed than usual.

“You are more than welcome to call in more of your own people to take care of that, Lady Proudmore,” Farbreath continued, ignorant that he’d become the least liked man in the room, “but my suspicions remain.”

“We ‘ave every reason ta believe that the lass is alive,” the dwarf with the Wildhammer tabard commented with a bit more bite in his words.

“Based on what? The words of their traitors and inside men? That little piece of costume jewelry of hers that was recovered in the mud? No, she’s nothing, and has likely - “

Vol’jin wasn’t aware that he’d sucker-punched Farbreath until some of his men and Varian’s were physically dragging him away from the night elf who was now lying dazed on the ground, the tent having descended into absolute chaos. His ears were ringing again and his right hand stung, but the sight of blood streaming from the other man’s nose made the whole thing worth it. 

“What in Elune’s name?!” Farbreath scrambled to sit up, one hand trying to plug his nose while scowling at the Warchief of the Horde. He was reduced to cowering immediately when the troll shook everyone off of him with ease and growled at the night elf.

“Dis meetin’ is over,” he bellowed, his entire self shaking with barely controlled rage. Those standing in his path scattered out of the way as he stalked out the tent, leaving both Alliance and Horde members to gawk and whisper amongst themselves, too rattled to continue planning the assault for the time being. No one dared follow him, fearing being the next victim of his inexplicable anger.

As the troll made his way back to his private tent, the full extent of his exhaustion and agony came over him like a hurricane.

Everything hurt. Vol’jin’s head, his body as a whole, his bruising hand, his stomach, his heart...everything. 

Groaning as he dragged his hands over his face, the shadowhunter contemplated his position now. This was his second outburst; and while he had done everything right regarding co-running this operation, his actions in that tent would certainly raise more suspicions now. He would have to do damage control one way or another soon.

He could either explain himself or apologize. And seeing as there was no way in hell he would be apologizing to that vermin anytime soon...

Vol’jin stopped and grasped one of the nearby tent staves for balance when his head went light, his adrenaline from before completely running out now.

If he were to even begin to convincingly explain himself...not only would he be forced to reveal his relationship with Nadia and the incoming product of their time together...but also that he still cared. Still cared about his deepest desires, still cared about one day actually having his own family...and still cared about her.

Sighing, the troll forced his mind to go numb and blank as he dragged himself closer to his own tent. He hadn’t slept well in weeks. He needed to lie down...needed rest...needed to see her again even if they were only in his dreams. If only for an hour...a few minutes...

Please.

...

((Ack! This was my longest yet!! I mean gosh, over 3k words! Hopefully I can have parts 4 & 5 done soon, as well as my next FF chapters! This certainly helped with my creative process! @airanke & @druidickats if you ever get tired of me tagging you, just say the word. And if anyone else is interested enough in my little guilty pleasure fan writings and wants to be tagged, just reply!))