#i have. never seen gandalf/bilbo as a ship before

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

who are your favorite lotr / the hobbit /silmarillion characters

Wuhuuuuu, unexpected question! Since I have a suspicion of who might be... Here is a cute rat too! (worse case and is not who I think it is, well, who doesn't love cute rats? 🥺)

Okay, since I'm probably about to start yapping... Answer under the cut!

First of all, I need to clarify this: I'M VERY BIASED TOWARDS HOBBITS IN GENERAL!

There is reasons for it, but honestly? Have you seen the shrine? I want to be a hobbit and spend my days in a place that beautiful while I smoke weed under the shadow of a tree. THAT'S THE DREAM, C'MON! 😌

When I was a kid, my dad used to read 'The Hobbit' to me when I was sick and had to stay at home bc adhd kid couldn't stay quiet (I have a very vivid memory of feverish me watching as it was a movie how they all went down the river inside the barrels, no idea why that stuck but it did). He did a different voice for every dwarf and I laughed like a gremlin every time he read their moment invading Bilbo's home.

Then we went all together to watch the first lotr movie and I cried like a baby bc "Wtf do you mean Gandalf is dead? No, he isn't!". So as soon as I arrived home (still crying), I quickly went to grab the first book bc my parents refused to spoiler me shit (Don't take me wrong, I'm glad I read them and I enjoyed it a lot, but damn, I was very worried for Gandalf, okay? 🥲)

So... From a nostalgic point of view? Kid me would probably say Bilbo or Gandalf. But if I had to choose right now, it would be a tie between two hobbits (I love them, sorry)

PIPPIN

(He's so real, I feel represented by Pippin every time I watch those movies. His extra scenes always get me)

I love him dearly. Not only bc he's too funny and my most silly side thinks we should be friends. He's so damn real and unfiltered, adhd hobbit, I swear to Cher xD

But also, and that's very important to me... He stays. He can be oblivious and not grasp half of what is happening around him, but he grasps his friends are in danger and he stays. Yes, he screws up bc curiosity does things (no impulse control, I wonder why), but again, once he arrives at Gondor... He stays, he keeps fighting in his own way, he never abandons his friends. I must confess is being a while since I read the books for the last time, but I know how much I loved his part on Gondor, how he walks around the city and everyone ends up knowing him and appreciating him even. Who wouldn't? He's a fool but an honest one who has no malice. So yeah, Pippin deserves more credit! (same for Merry, but the silly one got me, what can I say)

SAM

(I know this speech is movie-only, but it makes me feel things every damn time. This is directly responsible of why every time I finish the 2nd movie, no matter if I was falling asleep or not, I play the next one. Because damn, the way he talks about stories? Hits me)

It's Sam, idk what else I need to say. The loyal companion, who for me would always be the biggest hero (biased, I know). The one that refuses to leave Frodo, that even when Frodo goes all "is my burden" answers "but I can carry with you". He is so damn devoted, how I'm supposed to not love him? And is Frodo, is for Frodo, we all know it. He doesn't seem to consider trying anything against Frodo when he refuses to destroy the ring. No, hurting Frodo is not something Sam considers.

And I might be realizing that apparently I always had a soft spot for characters that are devoted to the point of following their depressed emo boyfriend to hell. Welp, I see a patron, what can I say? I shipped them before even knowing that was what I was doing, arguing with my brother that "Mr.Frodo, I'm your Sam" didn't have any other explanation and one-sided my ass bc no way depressed Frodo didn't accept the affection when he needed it so badly. No way their trip to Mordor didn't have doomed romance, no fucking way! (codependent and unbalanced too, damn.... Yeah, I have a type for ships, fuck xD)

I hope this yapping is somehow an answer to your question! (and I might be thinking about harumai going to Mordor, my brain is going silly xD)

[ebaeschnbliah]

`Do you now wish to look, Frodo?' ...

... said the Lady Galadriel. `You did not wish to see Elf-magic and were content.'

`Do you advise me to look?' asked Frodo.

'No,' she said. `I do not counsel you one way or the other. I am not a counsellor. You may learn something, and whether what you see be fair or evil, that may be profitable, and yet it may not. Seeing is both good and perilous. Yet I think, Frodo, that you have courage and wisdom enough for the venture, or I would not have brought you here. Do as you will! '

`I will look,' said Frodo, and he climbed on the pedestal and bent over the dark water. At once the Mirror cleared and he saw a twilit land. Mountains loomed dark in the distance against a pale sky. A long grey road wound back out of sight. Far away a figure came slowly down the road, faint and small at first, but growing larger and clearer as it approached. Suddenly Frodo realized that it reminded him of Gandalf. He almost called aloud the wizard's name, and then he saw that the figure was clothed not in grey but in white, in a white that shone faintly in the dusk; and in its hand there was a white staff. The head was so bowed that he could see no face, and presently the figure turned aside round a bend in the road and went out of the Mirror's view. Doubt came into Frodo's mind: was this a vision of Gandalf on one of his many lonely journeys long ago, or was it Saruman?

The vision now changed. Brief and small but very vivid he caught a glimpse of Bilbo walking restlessly about his room. The table was littered with disordered papers; rain was beating on the windows.

Then there was a pause, and after it many swift scenes followed that Frodo in some way knew to be parts of a great history in which he had become involved. The mist cleared and he saw a sight which he had never seen before but knew at once: the Sea. Darkness fell. The sea rose and raged in a great storm. Then he saw against the Sun, sinking blood-red into a wrack of clouds, the black outline of a tall ship with torn sails riding up out of the West. Then a wide river flowing through a populous city. Then a white fortress with seven towers. And then again a ship with black sails, but now it was morning again, and the water rippled with light, and a banner bearing the emblem of a white tree shone in the sun. A smoke as of fire and battle arose, and again the sun went down in a burning red that faded into a grey mist; and into the mist a small ship passed away, twinkling with lights. It vanished, and Frodo sighed and prepared to draw away.

But suddenly the Mirror went altogether dark, as dark as if a hole had opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the black abyss there appeared a single Eye that slowly grew. until it filled nearly all the Mirror. So terrible was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to cry out or to withdraw his gaze. The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat's, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.

Then the Eye began to rove, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things that it sought he himself was one. But he also knew that it could not see him-not yet, not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his neck grew heavy, heavier than a great stone, and his head was dragged downwards. The Mirror seemed to be growing hot and curls of steam were rising from the water. He was slipping forward.

`Do not touch the water!' said the Lady Galadriel softly. The vision faded, and Frodo found that he was looking at the cool stars twinkling in the silver basin. He stepped back shaking all over and looked at the Lady.

`I know what it was that you last saw,' she said; `for that is also in my mind. Do not be afraid! But do not think that only by singing amid the trees, nor even by the slender arrows of elven-bows, is this land of Lothlórien maintained and defended against its Enemy. I say to you, Frodo, that even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or all of his mind that concerns the Elves. And he gropes ever to see me and my thought. But still the door is closed!' 

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Mirror of Galadriel

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Elrond was… weary. Very, very weary. Bilbo had spoken to him once of what it had been like to carry the Ring in the Shire – “As I told Gandalf, I felt thin like butter, scraped over too much bread – not a problem I have encountered in your House, Master Elrond, I assure you! You always have plenty of butter!” The memory made him smile faintly, but it was an apt comparison, he thought: he too felt stretched and scraped thin.

Sometimes, he turned his gaze back eastwards: across the ever-growing distance separating him from his children, his daughter and his youngest son who he would never see again, his natural-born sons who he could only pray would eventually join him. Sometimes Frodo would stand with him, looking back at the Shire, and Samwise, and Meriadoc and Peregrine. Very occasionally, Galadriel would be there too, looking back towards the husband she had left and the people and the forest that she had given so much of herself to protect.

Sometimes he looked West, across the ever-shrinking distance to the wife who awaited him, his parents, friends long-departed and family he had never had the chance to meet. He wondered if Gil-galad would be there when they arrived. Frodo would occasionally look West as well, to the hope of rest and healing. Often Galadriel’s face was turned toward the setting Sun – for she looked forward to seeing father and mother and brothers and daughter thought forever sundered. Her eagerness and joy made her seem young in a way that Elrond had never seen on her before.

(Bilbo did not look either way with him. Bilbo spent most his time below decks, sleeping. “For I am, after all, a very old Hobbit, you know, Master Elrond,” he had said in response to his friend’s gentle probing, a roguish twinkle in his eye. “I am not Fading! But I am tired. Let me sleep.”)

Elrond found himself engulfed in melancholy when the ship finally found the Straight Way. There was no turning back now, the distance between himself, and his children and the remnant of his brother’s people unbridgeable. Only Frodo seemed to share his mood, staying quietly in his cabin to think – around the ship, the sailors laughed and whistled and sang and called jokes back and forth to each other, while Galadriel pressed herself against the prow and watched forward as though her very gaze could bring land into sight sooner.

Elrond went to bed early that night.

But when he arose the next morning, he found himself refreshed and rejuvenated in ways he had not in a long time, and he watched the water around with keen interest. The very blue itself seemed sharper, clearer, brighter than it ever had in Middle Earth. The air filled him like miruvor, and with the same sort of effect, he thought. He turned at a sound behind him – Frodo was emerging onto the deck, wearing a faint half-smile, and behind him, Bilbo hobbled out, his gait slow and lame but his eyes bright and curious as ever.

Elrond inclined his head to them both and smiled a warm greeting before turning to look back out over the ocean again. The distance behind them might now be a permanent breach, severing them from Middle-earth until the breaking of Arda. But the distance before them was closing rapidly, and his thoughts were consumed with silver hair and laughing eyes in a gentle face. Already he felt stronger and more vigorous, the air itself bringing life, and joyful hope stirred in his breast.

He was coming home.

[urmomsstuntdouble]

uhhh i want to send you a lotr one but given i haven’t engaged with the series much since i was a child (altho I did love it) idk much about the ships so uh. gandalf/bilbo for a laff xx.

or ameripan for a hws ship lol

aw, thank you! i will attempt to make. bildalf. as serious as possible. 

What made you ship it?

the first roadblock. uh. weed bros but old and crotchety

What are your favorite things about the ship?

weed

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

honestly a solid bromance, i do appreciate their friendship

(ok i think i shouldve picked dont ship it because i wanted to write a jokey unpopular opinion but it was too cursed but here we are)

ameripan!

What made you ship it?

honestly im a bit neutral but. this fic by @heta and this art by @neioo

What are your favorite things about the ship?

uh its very soft! very much comforting, probably would be more comforting if i was more into it 

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

honestly idek what the discourse about ameripan is..an hc i have is that they share croc charms? 

[warrioreowynofrohan]

March 15th - A Day of Miracles

This sis something that occurred to me when I was writing today’s instalment of “Today in Tolkien”, but I didn’t have space to discuss it there, so I’m making a separate post. The day of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields is characterized by muraculous events and sudden turns of good fortune, in a way that didn’t become fully clear to me until I looked at the day as a whole. In the style of The Lord of the Rings, many of these are not obviously supernatural, but are understood as miraculous by those who experience them.

Wind

One of the most prominent of the miracles of the day is the change in the wind at precisely the right time, driving back the darkness of Mordor, giving hope to the Rohirrim and to Frodo and Sam, and carrying Aragorn’s fleet up the river. Readers of The Silmarillion will inow that wind is most of all associated with Manwë, the king of the Valar.

The first mentions of the change in the wind are from Ghân-buri-Ghân and the Rohirrim:

But suddenly [Ghân-buri-Ghân] stood looking up like so e startled woodland animal snuffling a strange air. A light came into his eyes. “Wind is changing!” he cried, and with that, in a twinkling as it seemed, he and his fellows had vanished into the glooms, never to be seen by any Rider of Rohan again.

And later, as the Rohirrim draw near to the Pelennor Fields:

“Do you remember the Wild Man’s words, lord?” said another. “I live upon the open Wold in days of peace; Wídfara is my name, and to me also the air brings messages. Already the wind is turning. There comes a breath out of the South; there is a sea-tang in it, faint though it be. The morning will bring new things. Above the reek it will be dawn when you pass the wall.”

As the Rohirrim arrive at the battlefield:

Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting; morning lay beyond them.

And in the charge of the Rohirrim:

For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts or Mordor wailed, and terrror took them...

The wind and the change it bring is also anticipated by Legolas aboard the ships of the Corsairs, as Gimli later tells:

“Heavy would my heart have been, for all our victory at the havens, if Legolas had not laughed suddenly. ‘Up with your beard, Durin’s son!’ he said. ‘For thus it is spoken: Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn.’ But what hope he saw from afar he would not tell...At midnight hope was indeed born anew, Sea-crafty men of the Ethir gazing southward spoke of a change coming with a fresh wind from the Sea. Long ere day the masted ships hoisted sail, and our speed grew, until dawn whitened the foam at our prows.

Frodo and Sam, too, see the change:

Light was growing behind them. Slowly it crept towards the North. There was battle far anove in the high spaces of the air. The billowing clouds of Mordor were being driven back, their edges tattering as a wind out of the living world came up and swept the fumes and smokes towards the dark land of their home. Under the lifting skirts of the dreary canopy dim light leaked into Mordor like pale morning through the grimed window of a prison. “Look at it, Mr Frodo!” said Sam. “Look at it! The wind’s changed. Something’s happening. He’s not having it all his own way. His darkness is breaking up in the world there.”

Victory

Eowyn and Merry’s defeat of the Witch-king, though accomplished by thmselves and a great feat, is also percieved as miraculous by many who hear its effects. These two things are not contradictory - the presence of two such unlikely people on the battlefield, in the right time and right place, with the right weapons, in answer to prophecy, does have the air if the miraculous, a miracle accomplished through the intersections of providence with the actions of ordinary people (even as with the later destruction of the Ring; or, earlier, Bilbo’s finding of the Ring, which would not have been posdible if he had not go e with the dwarves in the first place).

Then tottering, struggling up, with her last strength [Éowyn] drove her sword between criwn and mantle, as the great shoulder bowed before her. The sword broke sparkling into many shards. The crown rolled away with a clang. Éowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe.

But lo! the mantle and hauberk were empty. Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumbled; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of the world.

The death of the Nazgûl-lord is heard also in Minas Tirith, and brings hope:

But even as Gandalf and his companions came carrying the bier to the main door of the Houses [of Healing], they heard a great cry that went up from the field before the Gate and rusing shrill and piercing into the sky passed, and died away on the wind. So terrible was the cry that for a moment all stood still, and yet when it had passed, suddenly their hearts were lifted up in such a hope as they had not known since the darkness came out of the East; and it seemed to them that the light grew clear and the sun broke through the clouds.

And it is heard by Frodo and Sam as well, and gives heart and hope to Sam:

As Frodo and Sam stood and gazed, the rim of light spread all along the line of the Ephel Dúath, and then they saw a shape, moving at great speed out of the West, at first only a black speck against the glimmering strip above the mountain-tops, but growing, until it plunged like a bolt into the dark canopy and passed high above them. As it went it sent out a long shrill cry, the voice of a Nazgûl; but this cry no longer held any terror for them: it was a cry of woe and dismay, ill tidings for the Dark Tower. The Lord of the Ringwraiths had met his doom.

Light and Water

For Frodo and Sam, the breaking of the darkness is part of another miraculous sequence of events. In the early hours, when they have escaped from the Tower of Cirith Ungol but are entirely out of water, Sam says:

“If only the Lady could see or hear us, I’d say to her: ‘Your Ladyship, all we want is light and water: just clean water and plain daylight, better than any jewels, begging your pardon.’ But it’s a long way to Lórien.”

Not long after that the darkness breaks, as quoted above, and light comes into the sky, and they hear the death-cry of the Nazgûl-lord. And only an little later:

They had trudged for more than an hour when they heard a sound that grought them to a halt. Unbelievable, but unmistakeable. Water trickling. Out of a gully on the left, so sharp and narrow that it looked as if the black cliff had been cloven by some huge axe, water came dripping down: the last remains, maybe, of some sweet rain gathered from sunlit seas...Here it came out of the rock in a little falling streamlet, and flowed across the path...

Sam sprang towards it. “If I ever see the Lady again, I will tell her!” he cried. “Light and now water!”

I don’t think either of these things are within Galadriel’s abilities, but that is not the point. The hobbits think of her as the closest encounter they have had with great and high beings, and think of her in place of greater things that they are less aware of or less sensible of being able to seek help from; and someone is watching out for them.

Healing

The last miracle of the day comes with Aragorn’s first entry into Minas Tirith, as healer rather than ruler; and the final description of it is highly evocative of many of Jesus’ miracles of healing in the New Testament:

At the doors of the Houses [of Healing] many were already gathered to see Aragorn, and they followed after him; and when at last he had supped, men came and prayed that he would heal their kinsmen or their friends whose lives were in peril through hurt or wound, or who lay under the Black Shadow. And Aragorn arose and went out, and he sent for the sons of Elrond, and together they laboured far into the night. And word went through the city: ‘The King is come again indeed.’ ...And when he could labour no more, he cast his cloak about him, and slipped out of the City, and went to his tent just ere dawn and slept for a little.

[joisbishmyoga]

A friend has convinced me that the Arkenstone is a Silmaril.

- glowing rock

- similar sizes probably. fit on giant evil crowns and in hobbit pockets alike.

- ppl went war-crazy over them

- one of them was lost to a fiery pit

- a lone mountain is very likely to be a former volcano

- Middle-Earth's timeline is stupid in a geological sense anyway so SURE there's plenty of time between the First and Third Ages for a volcano to die and get turned into a dwarven city-state why the heck not ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ)

This lends itself to a particular logical progression:

- the dwarven lords swore their obedience to the rock, not the line of Durin, after it was found

- this is why they could refuse to go with Thorin to retake Erebor

- this is also why it was so damn important for Thorin to get the Arkenstone specifically ASAP, instead of "eh we'll find it eventually while we're sorting through the treasury"

- they didn't originally intend to slay the dragon as a group of 14, they meant to get the Arkenstone, go back, and command all the dwarves to come attack Smaug

- ANYWAY a key feature of a silmaril is that it burns anyone who doesn't have the right to possess it

- so when Bilbo is like "here's the Arkenstone", Thranduil is like "what the fUCK that is a SILMARIL Gandalf WHAT" and Gandalf is like "WHAT THE FUCVK i mean MY AREN'T HOBBITS INTERESTING LITTLE FELLOWS what the fuck what the fuck"

- and then Thranduil is like "well it isn't burning him so that makes him the rightful owner"

- and then someone, probably one of the dwarves, it would be kind of hilarious if it was Fili or Kili but it could also be Nori (very savvy), Ori (a scribe) or... I think it was Balin who was responsible for teaching the princes things like history idk, ANYWAY one of the dwarves is like "wait doesn't that make Bilbo King of the Dwarves?"

- Thorin is shocked out of his gold madness by the fact that actually no he isn't King Under the Mountain

- "Maybe you can be Consort Under the Mountain if you apologize nicely enough."

- "... Apologizing nicely? Uncle Thorin?"

- "Good point. I guess we'll never be princes again, Kili."

And so Bilbo fixes everything with hobbity practicality and also offends tf out of Thranduil and Gandalf and the dwarves without them being able to do anything about it.

- The dwarves love that Bilbo told Thranduil, very loudly, in front of the entire elven army, that he can fuck right off though his elves are welcome to return to sell food, and he will get his stupid starlight pebbles AFTER all the ACTUAL priorities of feeding and housing everyone, and going through Erebor to assess the city's structural integrity, and washing and uncursing the hoard, and actually sorting through it for Laketown's money and paying the food merchants and dividing heirlooms from liquid assets and etc etc etc have been addressed. And every time Thranduil behaves like a sulky fauntling, his stupid rocks go down one slot on the very. very. long list of priorities.

- (The dwarves are much less pleased to have all the wealth of Erebor called "rocks" and "pebbles" and "mathoms".)

- so get this army off my doorstep NOW Thranduil, or do we have to send missives to all of Middle-Earth that you are an oathbreaker as should've been done a century ago.

- You know. When you broke your treaty of mutual aid to the kings of Erebor. And left thousands of innocent, traumatized survivors to starve to death. It's one thing to refuse to enter a lost battle. It's something entirely different to refuse to help the refugees. Children starved, Thranduil. CHILDREN.

- p.s. You have no idea how badly you, and by extension all of Mirkwood, have offended all of Bilbo's hobbity morals here, Thranduil.

- if Bilbo was even the slightest bit more vindictive, Thranduil would have to abdicate and Legolas would have to rebuild all of Mirkwood's diplomatic ties with a severe handicap. Oathbreaker is a SERIOUS THREAT given what we've seen of Middle Earth societies.

- so considering the Arkenstone just got revealed as a Silmaril, putting that memory right at the top of everyone's minds, there should be PLENTY of elves either old enough or educated enough right there to make the connection between "bloody war over the silmaril rocks" and "bloody war over the starlight rocks" and want NOTHING to do with it tyvm

- Bilbo like "we will NOT be housing anybody in the mountain but the original Company before we've inspected each space for structural safety, no even we aren't just wandering around the mountain willy-nilly, the dragon broke a lot of stuff and a big enough rock fall will break even a dwarf's thick head"

- Bilbo also like "for valar's sake, Bard, take your mob home, set them to salvaging what you can of Laketown and Dale, send messengers to your trading partners that there's a lack of food and enough money to pay for it up here, and bring the salvage up so we can build you all shelters for the winter"

- Bilbo like yes OBVIOUSLY i'm going to feed and house you all, how dare you have to ask

- Bilbo setting Gandalf to breaking rocks on the lee side of the mountain so they need less salvage to build with, oh I'm sorry did you want to help shovel dragon dung instead, ah yes that's what I thought

- idk what this does for the orc army but that's not the point

Bilbo: Seriously, Thranduil, what do you care if it takes another century or two to get some pretty rocks. You're an ELF. You're already fifty thousand years old or something ridiculous like that. Bilbo: You basically let thousands die and went to war over the equivalent of a one-month delay in shipping.

Now, if he'd had ANY sense, instead of being a Karen... Thror: Nope I'm keeping them MINE ALL MINE ALL THE GOLD IS MINE Thranduil: . . . Thranduil: Eh, you'll die off soon enough. I'll just call your descendents until one is sane enough to honor the contract.

Thranduil: We elves have songs longer than this shipping delay. Thranduil: I think I'll go listen to one.

But that did not happen! Instead it was more

Legolas like "dad could u stop being so horrible u are embarrassing our entire family"

Legolas like "dad stop screaming at the teenage cashier over your 25 cent coupon"

Thranduil: I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER

Fili and Kili: ooooh, he wants to speak to the manager~ Bilbo: I AM THE MANAGER

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 5

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 5

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes:  I know I've been trying to keep this story gender-nuetral, but dwarves have a habit of referring to people (Even Gimli to Legolas, though he's a lot younger than our golden boy) as "lad/laddie" "lass/lassie." Or even "young one," I've heard Balin call Bilbo. So for this story, I'll just put [lad/lass/y-o] in parenthesese, and you can just hear whichever one you choose. :)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir LIVES, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC maybe Bilbo you won't know for awhile, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

The Elves stopped just outside the northern border of the Mirkwood, to the west, to wait for the dwarves. But apparently the little guys just didn't give a shit.

The whole group camped for three days, then three more days, and by the end of it, you were even growing impatient. It was mainly the younger Elves that shared your impatience, but Elves like Elvenqueen and Erestor and Haldir seemed to think that they had all the time in the world, la la fucking la...

Legolas seemed in-between, irritated at the dwarves for being so late but not really caring in the long run. You tried several times to approach him and apologize, but he always seemed to disappear at the most inconvenient times imaginable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-- you were getting sick and tired of frolicking-- the sign of a camp on a distant ridge, a couple of days away, gave the Elves hope that the dwarves finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to show up. A couple of Elves seemed to puff some horses out of thin air, and galloped off to meet them.

"We get horses?!" You'd screeched, and wheeled on your friends-- Tauriel hadn't come, so Lindir, Elros, and pissy Blue-Eyes were the only actual friends here you had, even though all the other Elves were very nice to you. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me we got horses?!" You could've been riding to pass this time. Not that you knew how to ride a horse, but that wasn't the point.

Elros blinked at you in disbelief. "Those Elves awaited us on the border with horses enough for all. You have not seen them before?"

"No, dammit, or I would've been riding to pass the time!" You hadn't noticed them, because a certain Rivendell Elf had forced you to learn Elvish... You rounded on him. "Lindir! If you hadn't made me sit here and learn Elvish, I could've been riding!"

Lindir stared at you, then slowly raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You do not know how to ride, do you?"

You frowned. "That's not the point!"

Both Elros and Lindir chuckled amongst themselves. You huffed theatrically. "Fine, jackasses. I'm off to pet one of those sweet animals. You can teach me Elvish later."

Before either of them could stop you, you all but ran off, hoping not to slam into anybody or trip or cause something to fall that'd cause a huge mess. You were prone to all of them. And there were horses, enough for everybody there, and three very fat ponies that you almost started squealing over. Those, you guessed, were for the dwarves.

But one horse, out of all of them, caught your eye.

A sleek, gorgeous black, with a bright white star on his forehead. He was built for speed, like a racehorse, but he was sturdy, too. You looked for something to mark him as belonging to a certain Elf-- because you knew Elves loved horses, and that like all horse people, even look at their horse wrong and you make it on their kill list-- but they all seemed randomly selected out of somebody's stables, dressed in the same dark leather tack and saddlebags.

"Oooooh," You approached him quietly, and he nickered softly at you, his dark eyes scanning you and the Elves and the other horses warily. He seemed only recently tamed. "You, fine sir, are gorgeous."

"I beg your pardon?"

You promptly fell backward. Shit! Talking horses, too?! "What the fuck?!"

Legolas, with a smug smirk plastered onto his absurdly perfect face, sailed into existence from around a dapple gray mare. "Valar tell me you were talking to the horse."

"No, I can tell you I was talking to the horse," You sighed in relief, shaking your head as you stood. "But don't worry your platinum head, Goldie, all Elves are equally beautiful creatures."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, mellon."

You stroked the black's face gently. "No seriously though, he's beautiful. Does he have a name?"

Blue-Eyes didn't look up from brushing his mare's mane. "Most of the horses came from Rivendell and Rohan, which they bought on the journey. The rest came from the Woodland stables. I doubt you will find his name, if he has one."

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn't ask if you could have the horse. You'd always wanted one, but for... Personal reasons that had to do with your biological father, you never got one. "Well... I'll just refer to him as The Black, then."

Blue-Eyes turned around, and started inspecting his tack. "Hm... He seems to have come from our own stables." He stroked behind the stallion's ears, and the horse snuffed appreciatively.

"Legolas," You said quickly, realizing you should catch him when you have the chance. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me leaving if this didn't go well. It wasn't my choice; Thranduil wanted me to go with Elrond that day, but I asked if I could stay. He sent me on this mission to see if I was worthy enough to stay in his Palace of Fabulous. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... I didn't think anyone would care if I left."

Blue-Eyes got a confused look. "Why... Why would you think that?"

You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. "No one has before."

Recognition, then regret, flashed across Blue-Eyes's face. "Oh, Sairen... I am truly sorry, mellon nin, I should not have been angry with you. I didn't realize... I should have, and I should not have been upset with you. I just... I do care if you leave, and, if I'm honest, I do not want you to go."

You patted his shoulder. "Just so long as you forgive me."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "Of course, mellon, if you can forgive me."

You grinned. "Forgiven." You nudged him with your shoulder. "I'm just glad we're friends again. I've never had so many people be nice to me, but only a handful of you I consider my friends."

"And who among us hold that honor?" He asked teasingly.

Oh shit... You'd seen movies where somebody's asked this question, and if the askee shows even the slightest bit of hesitation or interest in any of the friends, asker became pissed and/or jealous. Wait... Why do I care about that? You turned to him with a huge smile. "Well you and Tauriel, DUH, and then there's Lindir and Elros now. Just wait, I'll be friends with Haldir and Erestor too, and then your mom-- by the time I'm finished I'll even make your dad like me!"

Legolas chuckled. "I hope so, mellon."

"By the way," You said, and reached down to grab a handful of grass to give to the Black. "Lindir and Elros are trying-- and failing-- to teach me Elvish. I'm a horrible student, namely because I'm Elvish-challenged. Still, I'm learning, and I want you to teach me something very specific."

He looked confused. "What?"

You smiled. "Teach me the history of Middle-Earth! Everything you can! I can't read Elvish, but you can, and you know the stories pretty well, I'm guessing. So start with how the world began and continue on from there."

Legolas smiled. "Very well, Sairen." In one quick movement, he mounted his mare, then reached down for your hand. "Come. We will ride, and I will tell you all that I know."

You took his hand, feeling a spark from static you'd built up from petting the horse. He hefted you effortlessly up behind him, then urged his horse into a canter as you rode away from camp.

***

Needless to say, you fell off twice.

Once, you let go of Legolas for just a second as his mare jumped a small log, and whoops, there you go. After, still not learning your lesson, you let go of him while trotting beside a river and the horse's gait made you slide right off before you even realized what was happening.

Then you learned not to let go of Blue-Eyes, mostly because he laughed his Elvish ass off every time you fell, after making sure you were okay.

As for world history, it was all very confusing. There were like six different versions of somebody and a hundred different other guys shared the same name and places and descendants and confusing time periods and just ugh. That was one thing you remembered from Earth: Tolkien's works had always been confusing.

Long story short, though, there was a guy called Eru, or Illuvatar, and he created a bunch of friends through thought. These friends of his became the Valar, and Illuvatar created the whole universe-- Ea-- through more thought. Then he had all his friends-- fourteen of them-- sing, and they created the vision of Valinor, then Arda, and the mischief-maker was Melkor, brother of god-king Manwe.

Now, after a long bout of building and making and stuff they created Valinor and Tirion and Mandos and all that, and they created birds and beasts, but Melkor got jealous and tried to ruin it at every fucking turn. Seriously, the guy didn't give them a break.

Then, Aule, another Valar, who made a lot of shit, wanted to have a bunch of kids so created the little guys known as dwarves, and made them to be especially tough and hardy and stuff because they were supposed to be around during the time of Melkor. But, Illuvatar appeared in his living room one night and said "I think the fuck not my kids come first" which made Aule reeeaaaaaallly upset, so he tried to kill the dwarves (Supreme parenting 2.0!), but then Illuvatar said "wait idiot they can still live" so Aule put them in stasis-mode for like several million years, until somebody "accidentally" unleashed some new Elves into Middle-Earth-- which had no moon or sun.

So duh Orome shows up, says "hi" and everybody runs for their lives except for a few brave souls, who round everybody back up. So three particular Elves, Finwe, Lenwe, and Ingwe, who you're pretty sure were brothers, went to Valinor with Orome to see if it was suitable for Elves-- and it was pretty much Elven paradise, or Vegas or something.

THUS CAME THE FIRST SUNDERING OF THE ELVES, or, that's how dramatically Leggy told it; the Teleri came to rest on the shores of Aman instead of going still further (Who earlier had split further and some became the Sindar, who had stayed in Beleriand, and the Silvan Elves, who'd stayed in the forests of Beleriand or something, of which Blue-Eyes was the first.), the Nandor who got scared of mountains and refused to go further, and the Noldor, who came all the way to Valinor.

Once actually in Aman, the Elves loved it there. They were in paradise. Water. Books. Flowers. Sparkles. Everything an Elf dreamed of. They built a city on a huge hill called Tirion upon Tuna (No you refrained from laughing.), made of silver and gold and more sparkles, and there was lots of peace, until Melkor was finally caught and chained.

Peace, lots of peace, boring shit, more peace, then BAM, the idiot Valar let the bastard go, like dumbasses. Melkor hadn't changed of course, no one does. He started rumors like some crazy gossiper and started up a whole bunch of shit. At that time, this guy called Feanor was around. He was like, the Elf of Elves, but he had some breathtaking anger management issues because after his mom died, his dad waited like a couple thousand years then got married again, and he definitely did not like his stepmom.

Or his two half-brothers.

They were pretty cool guys, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and each brother had like a dozen kids each, one of Finarfin's, get this, was Galadriel. One of Thingol's kin? Celeborn. Elrond? Yeah, he's the grandson of Beren and Luthien, the son of Earendil, raised by Maglor, related to Turin, and his grandparents were Tuor and Idril, the latter of which was the daughter of Turgon, who was the son of Fingolfin, who was the brother of Feanor, so yeah.

Holy fucking shit. Their god stories were kinda hard not to believe when people still existed who could vouch for them.

So this Feanor guy created a trio of sparklies beyond all sparklies, called, the Silmarils. He got a mild case of dragonsickness, boasting and hoarding and showing off and gloating, but Melkor made him think his brothers were trying to steal his sparkles, which, fuck no, how dare they, and he made his brothers think that Feanor was trying to usurp their father Finwe's throne.

Damn that guy knew how to stir up some shit.

One of Melkor's chief servants? Sauron, the Dark Lord, previously known as Sauron the Sparkly Maiar Who Wouldn't Hurt A Butterfly. Balrogs? Yup, Melkor made them, too.

Basically, Feanor started a revolution against the Valar and Melkor, who he called Morgoth, because Melkor was just too pretty of a name for such a bad guy, who stole every single light with the help of a hideously large spider called Ungoliant, killed Finwe, then took the Silmarils.

Feanor was piiiiiiissed.

So the Noldor left Tirion, killed some guys that tried to reason with them that turned out to be Elves, the Teleri, got cursed by Mandos, then Feanor, his sons, and a couple hundred who he knew didn't question him set off on stolen boats and burned them when they reached shore, leaving everybody else-- Galadriel included-- to walk the fucking Helcaraxe, a snowy strait wasteland, to get to Beleriand, which was filled with sparkling twinkle-toes Elves and much-less-serious dwarves-- who were friends.

There was also a good portion of the story dedicated to Turin, Beren and Luthien, and the couple known as Maedhros and Fingon, who you instantly adored: Maedhros, chained to a jagged cliffside for who-knows-how-long, and Fingon, who wanted so badly to save him, and eventually carried up to the cliffside by an eagle; he had to cut off Maedhros's hand, but the story was so heartfelt you were still internally squealing about it.

Yeah so that happened, and then a bunch of war and slaying and something about a Fall of Gondolin and the Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien leading up to a whole lot of human-caused shit with Numenor, and then Illuvatar blew everything up and restarted, essentially. Toward the end of the second age, Sauron (The fucker had somehow lived through all that evil-cleansing shit.), in the form of a fancy-prancy Elf named Annatar, suggested the making of the Rings of Power. Three, a smart guy who hadn't fallen for any of Annatar's shit, Celebrimbor, hid for the Elves, while Sauron/Annator helped forge the rest in order to control them, making one ring, above all.

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,

And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie,

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.

That was totally cool and stuff, and a handful of well-known Elves-- Gil-Galad, Glorfindel (Who'd uh, previously died due to a balrog trying to touch his hair.), Elrond-- and you're betting Galadriel, Celeborn, and Thranduil-- plus a bunch of well-known humans, lead by Isildur's dad, Elendil, and probably some dwarves, all came together with their armies and formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, totally discounting every dwarf that was there.

The nine kings who'd been given rings? Yeah, those were cursed, and because Men are greedy, they became shadows of their former selves, black-clad servants of Sauron, known as the Ringwraiths-- or, even cooler, Nazgul.

So there was a huge battle. Gil-Galad fell. Isildur's dad fell. Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's hand, Sauron faded away, and Elrond took Isildur into Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But he was weak, and was seduced by its power, and Elrond just stood there screaming his name apparently.

So there'd been roughly a couple thousand years of peace, and nobody knew where the Ring was. You doubted it was anywhere safe or secure, and much less that Sauron was actually dead.

Also, the Elves were fading. That scared you.

"What?! Great, I got sucked into a world where I'm just gonna die!"

Legolas laughed. "No, mellon nin, we are fading. Not dying. We just long for home, and our kind is slowly leaving Middle-Earth. This world becomes gray to us after so long of living here. We go across the sea, to the Undying Lands of Aman and Valinor."

"Okay," You leaned around him to see his face. "What is it with you Elves and the sea?! What's so important about it, if even you've never seen it yourself?! I certainly haven't seen any kind of ocean or sea."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "The first sound ever heard by the Elves was flowing water. It calls us home, in a way. It is said by my people that in water there yet lives the echo of the Music of the Ainur that first created this world."

"Huh," You said, tilting your head. "Guess that does make it really interesting..."

The sound of another pair of hoofbeats, coming up from behind, nearly made you fall off of the horse again. "Orcs?!"

Blue-Eyes grinned smugly. "Orcs do not ride horses, Sairen."

"Duh. I knew that. Fuck you."

"I'd rather you not without my consent."

"That's not always what it means!" You hid your blush by moving so your head was behind his back. Damn Elves...

It was Erestor, riding a gorgeous flaxen stallion. "Legolas, Elvenqueen calls upon the company of [Y/N]."

Nervously, you peered around Blue-Eyes's side. "Is that bad?"

Legolas spurred his own mare into a canter as he followed after Erestor. "Not in the least, mellon."

When you returned to camp, Erestor and Legolas took care of the horses, while they sent you on ahead-- by yourself, to a scary yet badass Elvenqueen you might glare you out of existence if you breathed wrong, like the wonderful friends they were-- to the Elvenqueen.

She sat by one of the center campfires, surrounded by a drove of Elves eagerly listening to whatever she was saying. Even in the firelight, she looked really young, but really regal and noble and even though she didn't have a wrinkle on her body you could tell she'd been around for eons.

All went silent when you approached. Nervously, you bowed. "Y-you wished to see me, your majesty?"

"Yes," She said, and waved to a place on a log across from her. "Sit."

You weren't terrified or anything. Just 'cause she decided not to skin you alive a couple days ago didn't mean she couldn't change her mind. You caught a glimpse of Elros in the crowd, and he gave you a reassuring nod: Don't worry, you won't die yet.

Comforting.

"Tell something of your world," She said.

You balked. Hadn't Thranduil told her everything you'd said? They seemed like the type of couple to do just that. Hadn't Legolas at least given her some information? They seemed close. You swallowed hard, readjusting yourself on the log. "What uh... What do you want to know?"

She thought for a second. "A tale."

You shifted. Sure, that was specific. You'd read billions of books (Well, maybe not quite that much...), but you couldn't remember any that Elves would want to hear aside from series’, like Temeraire, or The Gospel of Loki, or Eon the Last Dragoneye. Maybe you could use a movie, but Marvel and Transformers were too long and in-depth. You thought for a minute. You didn't even know how to give a much-shortened version of Eragon.

But out of everything, it was your best bet to tell a story and be safe from explaining your world's past, or things of your world, or cultures, mythology, or the concept of giant robots from another planet that hide by transforming into cars. Eragon was the closest thing you had to Lord of the Rings that you could remember right off the top of your head that was most similar; it had some of the same beasts, like dragons and werewolves, it was set in the same genre and had dwarves and Elves and Men, even if urgals were a new one... Then again, you weren't sure how they'd take dragons being good instead of hoarding assholes.

So, you got started.

As a hobby, you wrote a lot of fanfiction, which had mainly been for Lord of the Rings; you couldn't remember any of it now, of course, but you'd also started your own fantasy stories that had never been published. You were good with storytelling.

There were points where you had to pause and remember what happened next, or try to find words that explained the guilt or sadness or general feels of the story, but you did pretty good. By the time you were finished, the sun had came up and it was already noon, and the Elves that'd gone off to see if that camp was for dwarves were coming back, with a couple of pony-sized rams with shaggy coats carrying three tiny buff hairy guys.

Elvenqueen regally stood. "My thanks, [Y/N]. That was a wonderful story." She sailed through the ranks of the Elves, which parted before her like reeds to a boat.

"Is that a true story?" Lindir asked you, eyes wide.

You scoffed. "If it were true, I'd've had a dragon named Saphira or Shruikan. I have no dragon." You clapped your hands together. "So! When do I get to meet the dwarves?"

Blue-Eyes-- who'd joined later in the story, and another Elf caught him up on what was going on while he half-listened to what else was going on-- mockingly rolled his eyes. "Patience, mellon. I cannot think of any Eldar whom would willingly want to make the acquaintance of a dwarf."

You gave him a pointed look. "What about Thingol's people?"

Silence. Finally, Elros busted out laughing, and clapped the now-stunned Legolas on the back. "They have a point, mellon!"

But Blue-Eyes was right. It was only a couple hours before you were sought out by a Lothlorien Elf, who told you Thorin wanted to meet "the one who hailed from far." Apparently, nobody here felt like saying "the person that came from another planet." Not as mysterious, apparently.

So you followed the Elf to a tent, much smaller than those of the Elves, and a lot less colorful and, dare you say it, fashionable. Literally, it just looked like a bunch of old dark-colored blankets had been stitched together haphazardly. But, if you looked at the tools and tack of the rams, they were just doing it in spite of the Elves, because they had really good craftsmanship.

You weren't sure what to do. "Uhhh... Knock knock?"

You belatedly remembered one of the dwarves was royalty. "Sirs?"

The flap of the tent opened, and you got your first look at a dwarf.

He was an older dwarf, with a long graying beard and frizzy hair, and huge round ears. He looked you up and down in a brief but kind inspection, and, came to the very educated conclusion of, yup, not your normal Elf.

The dwarf smiled. "Ah, you must be [Y/N]." He sounded more Scottish than anything, and you were instantly relaxed. "The one from a far place. Not a normal Elf, then?"

You shook your head. "No sir. Just got here about a month and a half ago, actually."

He raised a hand. "Now now, we are all a part of this expedition, and I don't like being referred to as 'sir.' I am Balin to you."

You couldn't help but smile. He was a lovable little guy, a very sweet old dwarf. "Okay then. But, uh... Should I call Thorin or Dwalin 'sir'?"

Balin thought about that. "Ehhh... Thorin, yes. Dwalin? No."

You nodded, and Balin lead you inside the tent. It was pretty cozy, with three logs covered in roughish furs for makeshift beds. A small cooking fire was set up in the middle, and two other dwarves sat by it, halting their dwarvish conversation when they seen you and Balin. "This is they," Said Balin, in an introductory way. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], from far places."

The dwarf who you assumed was Dwalin-- buff, sleeveless, and with viscious muttonchops that made him look like Wolverine-- scoffed. "Tell me," Holy shit, he sounds like Leonidas from 300! "[Y/N], do you perhaps come from the Iron Hills?"

"Iron... What?" You were confused. Hadn't any of the Elves talked about you being from Earth? "N...No. I come from a place called Earth."

"Dwalin," Said the other guy, who radiated kingship, authority, and regal dwarfish-ness. He didn't take his eyes off you, like you were a predator ready to strike that he was wary of. He had a beard, but braided neatly down, and long dark hair. He wore dark navy blue and brown fur armor, and his voice was like, super deep. "They are not of the Iron Hills."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Thorin stood, and you bowed. "I'd uh, use some really respectful greeting, but I don't know any in dwarvish yet, so, it's an honor to meet you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded. "I would say the same, if I knew you deserved any honor," He replied. Ouch.

You didn't know what to say. He obviously had no love for Elves. "What uh... What made you think I was from the Iron Hills, wherever that is?"

"To the east of Erebor, [lad/lass/y-o]," Balin informed you, and Dwalin whacked him so hard upside the head you could've swore they broke something.

"Oh. What made you think--"

Thorin looked at you with a look that said stfu so you did. "The dwarves of Erebor think little of Elven magic, or wizards. We did not believe a portal strong enough to pull someone from another world could exist. And as I have discovered, it does not."

You were confused. "What do you mean? You mean the ears? Those were latex, I swear, but suddenly they weren't. You can ask Thranduil, I'm not from these parts."

Thorin glared at you. "I would rather not converse with the Elvenking. He does not hear the word of others. As for you... It is clear you are merely an Elf of strange upbringing, who lost themselves in the wrong woods."

"Okay," You were starting to get irritated. You loved Middle-Earth, but you weren't from Middle-Earth. You didn't belong, like always, and you were ready to defend your position. In Game of Thrones--you'd never gotten far in that series, and had only started the books-- Tyrion Lannister told Jon Snow to armor himself in what people thought his weakness was, so that it would no longer be his weakness. That's exactly what you'd done over the course of your life, and you weren't about to lose that now. "Listen, I can show you the damn portal. It wasn't made by Elves, or wizards, or any of that other shit. The inscription on the portal came from the time of Gondolin, if that means anything to you. Do I talk like an Elf, to you? Do I act like one? The Elves were ready to kill me, just because I breathed wrong near their damn trees after being chased by orcs on oversized dogs. If I weren't from another world, do you honestly think I'd have such elaborate stories?"

Behind Thorin, Balin patted his hands down, giving you the silent signal to shut up. Glacing at Thorin's pissed off face made you listen. "How am I to believe you?"

You made a face. "Don't you dwarves have any kind of lie-detecting abilites?"

Balin sighed. "None that we can think of, [lad/lass/y-o]."

You huffed in defeat. "Okay, okay, you know what? You dwarves are beyond stubborn, so I'll just tell you once: I come from another world. If you don't believe me, fine, but I'd actually like to make friends with dwarves, thank you very much."

"Oh!" Dwalin chuckled deeply. "Then they must not be an Elf, Thorin! None in their right mind would go cavorting with a dwarf!"

Thorin frowned. "Perhaps a spy... But wait... You are not of the Woodland Elves. I see that now."

You looked down at yourself. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"You carry yourself differently," He began to circle you, and you felt like you were being circled by a vulture. An angry vulture... "Most unlike them, or any Elf I have heard tale of. Whom were you raised by?"

"Uh, my mother," You quipped with a cocked eyebrow. "Her name is [M/N]."

"And where do your kin reside? With the Rangers of Dúnadain?"

"With the what? Is that some kind of club?"

"Club?" Thorin repeated. "You believe that to be a weapon?" He gave you a disbelieving look, and you sighed.

"No, no. Where I come from, a club is a group of people that gather together and talk about stuff they like, or try to run the schools or shit like that," You were trying to explain with excessive hand movements, but you only seemed to be freaking him out.

He narrowed his eyes. In a rough and rusty language that sounded like it could be dwarvish, he said something; you didn't even catch any of the words.

You stared at him blankly for a second. "Mae g'ovannen...?" You tried, wincing at your hopeless pronunciation of the words.

Thorin regarded you with a newfound look of awe. Behind him, Dwalin chuckled. "That, was his attempt at Elvish. And you did not understand what he said?"

You stared. "...No? Was I supposed to? Did you just say something important? Or insult me? Hey, I'm only just starting to learn Sindarin!"

Thorin's look of awe shifted to a scowl and a bitter smirk. "It was not Sindarin, I can assure you. It was Quendi, that of the Noldor, the only Elvish my people know."

"Quen-- Oh, I get it now. Different Elves, different languages, it's all coming together..." You swung your arms casually. "Ok, so, what'd you say?"

"I told you that you are an imposter, and no better than Orc-filth" Said Thorin absentmindedly, "Which would send any Elf into a fit of well-groomed rage."

You couldn't help yourself. You burst into a fit of giggles, making all three dwarves look at you weirdly. "I-I'm sorry," You wheezed, "'Well-groomed rage'; yeah, that's pretty much what they do!"

"What of this quest, then?" Challenged Thorin as he took a seat. He gestured for you to do the same. "If you are not of the Wood Elves, yet you are indeed Elven, why are you on this journey? What purpose do you have here?" He poured you a drink; you'd never really tasted ale or mead of any kind, and recoiled from the smell.

"In order for you to understand, I'd have to tell you the story," You told him, and he gestured for you to continue. So you did. "I fell from the highest branches of an oak tree playing a game with my family. It was a standard day. Standard, pointless life. A life in a dying world that was way too fucking overpopulated, in the wrong damn places. It was a twisted kind of home. I didn't like it, and did what I wanted, so people hated me. I was dressed as an Elf--hence the ears.

"I wake up in the middle of the night, still in the forest, and am suddenly being chased by orcs on the backs of oversized dogs with six-packs on their faces."

Thorin grew confused. "Six-pack? What is that?"

You patted your stomach. "Those rows of six square tight muscles you get on you stomach if you work out. Now lemme finish!

"I get caught up in a river, shot by an arrow, and am half-dead by the time the Elves arrive lead by Blue-Eyes-- uh, Legolas-- and they're ready to kill me, but because I'm pretty much dead and in their forest, I'm some kind of threat. Because they're real nice like that. Thranduil-- who I kindly refer to as, Lord Fabulous-- wanted Leggy to kill me on the spot. Blade to my neck and everything. Until I pointed out that I could go home if we found the portal and would never return by pain of death. Ouch, but whatever.

"So we look, find it, and surprise! Can't get through. Can never see my family again. Can never go home. Suddenly I'm a real Elf. I go into a kind of depression before I realize that this place was a fictional world from where I'm from, which I'd loved, but for some reason can't remember shit now." You pointed to him. "Your name is important. Very. I know that much. You do something really cool, probably.

"But the Council of Wisdomy Guys was summoned, and they decided that it would be best if I proved my worthiness to stay among the Wood Elves on this mission. No pressure!" You grinned maniacally. "What brings you here? I hear a certain gray-robed wizard?"

"Ah, yes," He sighed. "Gandalf. My father met with him whilst I was in the depths of Erebor, so I heard no word of it and could make no protest against it until my father told me that I was to travel with two of my choice to assist the Elves. I only tolerate this for my father's sake, and he claims this will be a good lesson for kingship one day. But when I heard word of someone from foreign lands, I feared it was the dwarves of the Iron Hills attempting some form of scheme. Never have they liked us, and they never shall."

You scoffed. "Yeah, well... Most of the Elves may not like you either, but some of them aren't so bad."

Dwalin choked on his bread. Balin gave you a sad look. "But they tried to kill you!"

You shrugged. "I'm used to getting awful treatment. And besides, now that they know me, I've made some friends. Tauríel, the Captain of the Guard; Lindir of Rivendell, and Elros son of Elrond... And then there's Blue-- Legolas."

"Why d'ya refer to him that way?" Dwalin demanded with a disgusted look.

You shrugged. "A nickname. Where I come from, it's a gesture of friendship. I call Lindir 'Lindy' and he hates it, I can tell."

Thorin snorted. "Well, [Y/N] of Earth... Should the Wood Elves refuse your company, Dale might make a nice, temporary placement until you find elsewhere."

You smirked, nodding slowly. "I heard that emphasis on temporary. Don't worry; I thank you for your hospitality, but Lord Elrond is staying at the palace until I return. If I fail, he'll take me back to Rivendell with him."

"Good. One less Elf on our borders to deal with."

"Oh screw off."

Thorin grinned bitterly, but waved a hand. "Begone, I am done with questioning you."

You scoffed, and Dwalin took your drink and guzzled it. to your shock and amazement. Out of the three of them, only Balin wished you a goodnight.

But you weren't tired, which you realized as you found yourself heading back toward the horses. "[Y/N]," Said a familiar voice, and you turned to see Haldir striding toward you.

You bowed, suddenly recognizing him as somebody of high rank. "Mae l'ovannen, Haldir of Lothlorien. What's up?"

He blinked in confusion. "I..." He slowly looked up. "Believe the stars..."

You chuckled. "No, no; that's an expression, where I come from. It means how are you doing, what is it you need, nice to see you, etcetera etcetera."

He stared at you. "...'Et... Cetera...?'"

You slumped over. "Oi... It means a general list of similar meanings that're implied but nobody feels like saying."

Haldir smiled. "Oh, I see. Lindir wished for you to return, so that you could continue your lessons in Sindarin." He didn't miss your look of disappointment. He smirked. "Perhaps, when you are finished with Sindarin, and already know Common, Quenyan would be best for you to learn."

"Pfft," You waved a hand. "I'll live forever. Might as well. I'll toss some dwarvish in there while I'm at it."

Haldir made a face. "I suppose that is up to you, but every dwarf speaks Common, so it would not pose any form of language barrier for that to be avoided..."

*** You were woken up no later than the crack of fucking dawn, by an elaborate blowing of horns that probably alerted ninety-seven percent of the orcs of the northern borders to your presence, but oh what the hell.

What else you woke up to?

"Galu, mellon nin," Said Legolas with a shit-eating grin. "Ci maer?"

Slowly, your groggy eyes went from wide to thin, angry slits. "...I swear to the Valar, Blue-Eyes... I just fucking woke up. What are you saying? Speak in Common, or I'll tear you limb from limb because I am not a morning person."

He gave you a look, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Le leich, Sairen. But if you are going to learn Elvish, then you must actually try to do so. Tell me, what did I say?"

You shrugged and slumped over onto a log. "Grapefruit, melons win, kid mobster."

Blue-Eyes chuckled, but internally, you busted out laughing after realizing what you said. "No, [Y/N], you have to do this. Concentrate. What did I say?"

With a sigh, you thought about Lindir's grueling lessons with you yesterday. "...You said, 'A blessing,' which is basically 'hi,' first; Galu. Then you said 'my friend,' and, 'are you well.'"

Blue-Eyes nodded, looking excited that you were getting the hang of Elvish. "Excellent. Now respond to me in Sindarin."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In the most unenthusiastic tone you could muster, you said, "Galu, Legolas, ni maer. A gin?" Blessings, Legolas, I am well. And you?

"Ni maer," He replied, then began polishing his bow. "Worry not, Sairen, soon Sindarin will come to you thoughtlessly. You already swear to our gods, instead of your own."

You did roll your eyes this time. An idea hit you. "Hey..." You looked at him with a huge smirk. "What's fuck you in Elvish?"

Legolas paled, then blushed. "You will learn how to speak intimately to another later--"

You huffed. "NO! What's your most offensive insult?!"

Blue-Eyes thought for a minute. "...Ego, which is the equivalent to what you mean when you proclaim that Common phrase of yours... Hopefully, most of the time."

You bit back a laugh. "...Eggo? As in, L'eggo my eggo?"

Blue-Eyes gave you a concerned look. "I... I am not sure what you mean, and it is not pronounced as you say it."

Commotion started up, and you spun around in your seat wildly to try and see why everybody was suddenly moving and packing up. "What's goin' on?"

Legolas smiled. "Well, Sairen, we are off to track the orcs."

You looked at him in a panic, pointing futilely to an Elf packing up the cooking supplies. "B-but... What about breakfast?" That sentence reminded you of someone... Someone small and innocent and prone to causing disasters... But who? Blue-Eyes didn't give you time to figure it out.

"You will not starve, mellon nin," He told you gently, and stood. "You are an Eldar now; you'd best learn what your body can do now rather than later." He smiled down at you. "Dadwenithon."

As if you understood what that meant, he practically skipped away. "...Dad marathon?" You repeated in disbelief. You got up and went to find somebody you knew, preferably not the Elvenqueen, Erestor, Haldir, or Thorin, because they'd just find you childish, or annoying. Elros was quick to find, and you approached him and his palomino steed with a very confused expression.

"Hey Elros?"

Elros looked up from brushing his horse's mane and smiled. "Ai, len suilon, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

You rolled your eyes. Stupid Elves and their five hundred different ways to say 'hi...' "Galu, Elros. Ni maer, a gin?"

"Ni maer eithro. What brings you to my company?"

"What the hell does dad marathon mean?"

Elros froze and looked at you like you were crazy. "I beg your pardon?"

You gestured wildly over your shoulder. "Legolas got up, walked away, and said dad marathon! And I've got no idea what he said!"

Elros grinned knowingly. "Ai,Legolas said dadwenithon. It means, roughly, I will return." He gave you a disgusted look. "And that is not how it is pronounced at all."

"Oh. Dadwenithon?"

Elros smiled proudly. "Yes! Precisely! Well done! But if Legolas told you he would return to you, evidently he meant for you to stay where you were."

Your eyes bugged out of your head. "Oh. I'll be going, then. Novaer." You didn't realize you'd said an Elvish farewell until you'd reached where you'd originally been seated, but that jumped out of your head when you seen Legolas waiting with his dappled mare and the black stallion (Heh heh...) from yesterday.

"Ooh! What's this all about?"

"I decided you should have your own mount throughout the course of this journey," He replied with a smile. "He is yours for now. Name him as you will, and by the end of this journey, I shall see if you may keep him."

You stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Wh... What? Keep him?"

Legolas smiled. "Surely you would wish to ride at will throughout the northern parts of Mirkwood?"

A huge smile spread across your face, and you excitedly spread your hands. "Well, duh! Gin hannon, Legolas! I'll call him..." You took the reins and looked him in the eye. "Starlight. I've always wanted a black horse called Starlight."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "Well done, mellon. Already, Elvish is beginning to seep into your speech."

You looked at him in surprise. "I did that on purpose you dumb blond."

Legolas's eyes widened slightly. "Man?" Which you understood as, What?

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes. "Blehlehleh!"

He recoiled. "What are you doing?"

With a laugh, you stroked Starlight's muzzle. "Messing with you. So you get up from the left side, right?"

Blue-Eyes just looked at you like you were crazy, then shook his head. "Yes, I suppose."

You went around to the left flank of the steed, which snorted suspiciously at you, like it wanted to know what the fuck you were doing. You peered at Blue-Eyes over the stallion's back. "Gimme a leg up?"

Legolas flushed and stared at you blankly. "If that is one of your vulgar insults, I swear to Illuvatar..."

A laugh escaped your throat. "No! Hell no! It means help me up, you moron!"

A sweet smile crossed Blue-Eye's features. "Well, then, come here, mellon nin, and I will aid you." He interlaced his fingers together as he bent down, allowing you to grip both ends of the saddle, step into his hand, and haul yourself up. You nearly fell off the other side, but just managed to catch yourself before you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of Blue-Eyes, who noticed your struggle but said nothing, to your sweet relief.

Elros trotted through camp on his palomino, saying "Und wendo'hein!"

Legolas mounted his dapple-gray, and looked you up and down. "You are not sitting correctly." He told you, and reached over to pull your shoulders back. "Your shoulders need to make a line to your ankles in the stirrups."

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Great, now you sound like my collection of Young Rider magazines."

"Your what?" Legolas looked almost offended.

"It's basically a book only about twenty pages long made of cheap paper and filled with random tidbits of information. This series I started collecting when I was eight or nine, then continued until I was about twelve, thirteen... I had a lot of them. I loved horses."

Blue-Eyes furrowed his brow. "Did you have one?"

You scoffed. "In my world, you either have to be rich like Saddle Club or own a farm like Racing Stripes. Or, by some miracle get saved by a badass black Arabian stallion on a desert island." You smiled cheekily at him. "Which, by the way, your facial structure really reminds me of an Arabian horse's. Dished, kinda. And perfect and majestic and all that shit."

Blue-Eyes just looked like he was suddenly being attacked by a pack of savage wargs and he wasn't quite sure what to do. You grinned, and did the first thing all of the books and movies you'd read as a kid had taught you: gently tap your heels into the horse's flanks, and carefully guide their head with the reins. Starlight tossed his head, eager to get moving at a faster pace, and nickered softly as he started off at a walk. Legolas beamed at you as he rode beside you. "Well well, Sairen, it seems you are a natural at riding a horse. Perhaps the blood of the Eldar is finally starting to take a hold of you."

"Not quite," Said a new voice, and Lindir rode up on a sleek bay with a mischievous smile. "Suilad, Legolas! [Y/N]! Your Elvish is improving, but you still need to learn more."

You slumped in the saddle. "Augh, man, do I have to?"

Legolas and Lindir grinned wickedly at each other. "Ai, Lindir, man í lú?"

"Ú, Legolas. Eithro, ci maer?"

"Ni maer, mellon nin, ni maer."

So for a whole five or six hours on the trip, you got bombarded on either side by Blue-Eyes and Lindir trying to teach you Sindarin. At the end of the day, the Elvenqueen asked you for another story, so you told her the first one that popped into your head that you could honestly remember most of: Alladin's Lamp. It had been your favorite fairytail as a child, and while it was meant for younger audiences, the Elves enjoyed it just as much.

Then, Thorin asked to see you again. He asked about your world, and what it was like, and you were happy to get to know them, even if you were an Elf now.

And that's how it went, for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, at some point you'd run out of memorized storybooks, so you focused on myths from various mythologies, and then, even movies. 300 seemed to be a favorite of Thorin's, who overheard, but the Elves were especially interested in Gods of Egypt and The Hunger Games, and the Jedi from Star Wars. When you ran out of that material (It was a long trip with long nights, because apparently Elves didn't really get the concept of sleep.), you even switched to games; Darksiders and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim got their attention, as did The Legend of Zelda.

But of all the damned stories you told them, they seemed most interested in Shakespeare, of all things. You only barely remembered reading Midsummer Night's Dream out of curiosity, but Romeo and Juliet, thankfully, everybody knew the gist of. Thanks to a certain Tom Hiddleston, you knew Coriolanus by heart, so that one wasn't too hard of a story to tell, and neither was (Onc you finally got them off of Shakespeare.) Pirates of the Caribbean, a classic for you, which, one of the characters, now that you thought of it... Will Turner... You couldn't quite remember his face, or Balian's from Kingdom of Heaven, which they all really liked, especially Legolas.

Eventually, the queen dubbed you Taleweaver, which you thought sounded pretty cool, but also a little nerve-wracking, because what if you ran out of stories to tell? You forced yourself to be casual. No worries. You were a writer, after all, just... Now your audience consisted of fantasy people instead of Tumblr bloggers.

No pressure.

One day, Legolas approached you alone as you groomed Starlight. "Yo," You said, s'upping him. "S'up?"

Blue-Eyes looked like you'd just thrown something at him. "Man?" You rolled your eyes. "Galu, mellon, galu. What is it?"

Legolas scoffed. "My mother has declared only a small party of us, including the dwarves, shall scout ahead and see if we can find their trail. Of the party is myself, Elros, Erestor, Haldir, and... you."

You pointed to yourself. "M...Me? The queen specifically requested me to go with you?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyy???"

Blue-Eyes glared at you as he stroked Starlight's muzzle. "It is nothing out of the ordinary. You wish to prove yourself to my father, do you not? I would like for you to stay in the Mirkwood as well, Sairen, so do not disappoint me."

"Well," You looked up at Starlight's face. "No pressure, right?"

Legolas smiled cheekily. "Not at all." He patted your back. "We begin at dawn tomorrow. Meet me by Starlight once you've woken, and we shall begin." He walked away, but half-turned to call out, "Do not be late!"

You nodded in exasperation, but as soon as he was gone, sighed and placed your face on Starlight's neck. "Mission," You hissed under your breath, just really wishing Lord Fabulous didn't have to be such a jackass. "Impossible."

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Le leich= You’re sweet

[rose-wine-selfships]

💙💙 !!

Thank you @logixlight ! I really appreciate you sending the asks for me. I’m going to do something different. This time it’ll be from a different F/O, Frodo Baggins, and he’s one of my long time fictional crushes from LOTR. So I imagined myself in a couple scenes from his source material. Btw, I’m in my mid twenties and he’s in his early thirties when we first met.

💙 In the first scene, Christina is seen sitting around Elrond’s council in Rivendell. She doesn’t make much discussion, but she observes the beings closely around her and watches their body language subtly. Frodo notices her quietly staring off into the distance, potentially thinking about other matters. He whispers to Aragorn,”Who is she? I haven’t met her kind before. Is she a human like you?”

“No, I hear she is not of this world. I don’t know much of her origins and she seems to have unusual powers akin to Gandalf the Grey’s. I heard that she wishes to join our party as the tenth walker. It is up to Elrond now whether he will approve of her merging into our Fellowship.”

“Really?” Frodo muses. ’She’s rather pretty’ he murmurs to himself and catches himself staring at her for way too long. Christina notices the gesture, and her eyes widen and softly flutter in curiosity at the petite brunette hobbit with azure-like irises. Frodo can feel his face grow hot and he quickly turns his head away before she can notice the ever growing blush all over his soft cheeks.

As the meeting drew to a close, tensions arose. Everyone was arguing with everyone over whether to destroy the ring, take it back, or get rid of it any other way. Christina was an empath, and she could sense the fierce tension growing between all the beings at the meeting. Elves, dwarves, wizards, humans and hobbits screaming at each other, and she could feel their anger, their hopelessness, and the dreary powerful effects of the one ring. The atmosphere felt like pieces of extremely sharp glass piercing into her body all over. She was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. She curled up into her legs, arms underneath in her chair and started breathing shallowly with tears close to falling down.

Frodo noticed this right away, and he had to do something to calm the tension in the air. He couldn’t bear to see this seemingly sweet young woman suffer any longer. This argument seemed to be like literal torture to her! He stood up and yelled,” I will take it! I will take the ring to Mordor!”

Everyone stopped yelling…they all slowly turned to see a scrawny, perky, and spunky 4’11 adult hobbit boldly declare his intent. After his declaration, there was much calmer debate about how Frodo was going to carry out this plan. Eldrond decided to give Christina one more chance to join, but he warned her that there’s no such thing as merciful people in battle. Once the meeting was over, he wandered cautiously over to Christina’s chair.

“H-hello there.” he said gently,” are you feeling alright?”

“Yes…I think so,” she breathed out shakily and raspy.

Her breathing slowly came back to normal, but her tears were falling down her now red-stained cheeks. She wiped them away swiftly and tried to look as calm as possible, but it was in vain.

“Don’t worry,” Frodo said soothingly,”it’s hard to adjust to this world, even when you’re a hobbit. To be honest, I’m rather glad you’re joining our Fellowship. We do need more companions on our journey. My name’s Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo Baggins. What’s your name?”

Christina gathered herself a moment, before she slowly replied,” Christina Flatleigh, daughter of Patrio Flatleigh.” She turned her head to look up into his eyes again, and smiled softly. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“T’was nothing.” He said shyly before turning his head away, hand over his other arm, once again trying to hide the redness all over his face.

💙 In the second scene, Frodo, Sam and Christina have finally thrown the ring into Mount Doom and the volcano finally erupts. As we lay into the ashes on a temporarily safe rock, all of us seemingly say our goodbyes. Frodo thanks Sam for being the best friend he ever had, and that he wishes he could have seen The Shire again. Sam reminds him that The Shire will always be near, and that Sam will marry Rosie Cotton one day. I thank both Frodo and Sam for being so kind to me, and that I’ll forever be in their debt for looking out for me.

Before she blacked out, Frodo turns to her and says hoarsely,” Christina, I’ve always loved you. Even when we met in Rivendell, I could tell you were different from the rest of us in the Fellowship years ago. But your differences, to me, I always found so beautiful in you.”

Her eyes widen a bit in shock over what she was hearing. She couldn’t believe that the timid, yet strong-willed hobbit she loved and cared for on this journey, returned her feelings.

Frodo continued, on the verge of tears,” If you ever feel the same for me…if we ever make it alive, I promise you, I will marry you—in The Shire. Then we can start a life—anew together, my love.”

Happy tears spilled out from her eyes, “Yes! Yes I will marry you! I love you so much!” Her voice was cracked and broken from the volcano heat, but Frodo could hear her loud and clear. He reached out for her hand, and with what little strength he could muster held onto her hand and turned his head towards hers to look into her eyes for seemingly one last time.

Until the giant eagles came, and Gandalf whispered to them to pick them all up and save them. All three of them blacked out soon after that. After a few days of recovery in The Shire, Frodo, Sam, and Christina have fulfilled their promises on the verge of death itself. Sam married Rosie Cotton, and it was a huge wedding to celebrate for. Frodo and Christina were nominated as best man and maid of honor at the wedding.

A few weeks later, Frodo proposed to Christina and it was an extremely joyous occasion. Their wedding started soon after that. Beings from all over Middle Earth came to see the wedding. Almost everyone from the original Fellowship attended the wedding; Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf the White, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and even Bilbo came along. Unfortunately, Aragorn was a king of Gondor, so he couldn’t really attend, but he sent beautiful wedding gifts to Frodo and Christina.

Years later, Frodo still felt pain from many physical enemy wounds, as well as PTSD from the events. The pain was so bad, and it made him so weary, that even Christina’s magical empathic nature could never heal the wounds that scarred him from his journey. Frodo couldn’t take anymore and had to board the Elven ship to The Undying Lands. Christina boarded with Frodo, since she couldn’t imagine a day living without him. So they sailed together into new foreign lands and continued their married life until the end of their days in the afterlife.

[avantegarda]

Guess Who’s Coming to Mordor

(Another installment of my “Maglor Joins the Fellowship” Au

Listen, @most-definitely-human, @cherepashkadrabbles, @semperaeternumque, @mywoesaregranular, @whatstolkienherepeeps, @fat-flubber-seal ,and everyone else who was foolish enough to encourage me…I don’t know what you were expecting other than the fic equivalent of an episode of Saturday Night Live, but that’s what you’re getting.

–

First impressions were clearly unreliable; Elrond had originally seemed like a very sensible sort of person, and yet Frodo was beginning to suspect the lord of Rivendell was quite mad. Of course it made sense for an Elf to come along on the quest—it was only fair, after all—but was it necessary for Elrond to choose this one? Surely Glorfindel, or that prince from Mirkwood, or anyone really, would have been a better choice than the quiet dark-haired man Elrond had introduced, inexplicably, as his father.

Father, indeed. Frodo knew his history as well as anyone, and he recognized the name Maglor straightaway. 

“I know who you are, you know,” Frodo told him, the first time they were alone together. It was the night before the company was scheduled to leave, and Frodo felt it was high time he got everything out in the open.

“Well, that’s hardly surprising, considering we were just introduced,” Maglor replied. Even when speaking quietly, his voice had an otherworldly quality Frodo found distinctly unsettling. “I’d go so far as to say I know who you are as well.”

“No, I mean I know who you are. Perhaps you think we don’t learn history in the Shire, but Bilbo’s told me all about the First Age, and I know exactly what you and your family did. Everything.”

“Ah.” Maglor’s expression was unreadable. “Then perhaps you also know that I have spent the last two ages punishing myself for my family’s deeds.”

“By wandering about on the beach and moping?”

“That, and other things as well. Looking after orphans, fighting a few orcs—I haven’t been entirely idle, you know.”

“That’s as may be,” Frodo said skeptically. “But I’d still like to know why you agreed to come on this mission. I know you and Lord Elrond are…family, but it can’t be just as a favor to him. And I find it hard to believe your motives are completely altruistic.”

Maglor leaned back in his chair, tapping his long, elegant fingers together. “The truth, then?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“The truth, Mr. Baggins, is that I am tired.”

Frodo blinked. “Tired?”

“Indeed. Quite unfathomably exhausted. I’ve spent the last 6,000 years wandering from place to place, never resting, never feeling that I am doing enough to make up for my past. This quest we are going on? This may be my last chance to do something genuinely good.” For a moment, he looked as though he was about to cry. “The truth is, Mr. Baggins, this may be my last chance to find a way home.”

Oddly, Frodo felt a spark of sympathy for this strange creature, separated from his home and family since before the sun and moon had first risen. What would it be like to be away from the Shire for that long? 

Well, he was soon to find out, he supposed.

“I understand that,” he said at last. “But how do I know I can trust you, around something as dangerous as…as what I am carrying?”

Maglor smiled, the first time Frodo had seen him do so. It was a surprisingly nice, though sad, smile. “Mr. Baggins, I threw one of the most valuable objects ever created into the ocean. I think I can manage to help you throw Sauron’s bloody trinket into a mountain.”

–

After much fuss and annoyance, Aragorn and Gimli had been persuaded to hand over their weapons before entering King Theoden’s presence. Maglor, standing behind them, looked nearly as reluctant as his companions had.

“You too, Master Elf,” the guard said. “Disarm yourself, please.”

Obediently, Maglor unhooked his sword belt, tossing it and his twin blades on the table. “There you are. Disarmed.”

“I said all your weapons, sir,” ordered the guard. “Do you think I’m blind?”

With a sigh that sounded like a wave crashing on the shore, Maglor pulled several small knives out of the top of his boots and handed them over. The guard nodded.

“Thank you, sir. Now…”

“Hold on, just a moment. I’m not quite done.” Digging about in his pack, his pockets, and his sleeves, Maglor extracted two small silver whistles, several hair-thin harp strings, something that appeared to be a tuning fork, and an unidentifiable instrument shaped like an hourglass, which he passed to the bewildered guard. “You did say all my weapons.”

“Sir, most of these are musical instruments,” the guard said, frowning. “They are not weapons.”

Maglor looked mildly offended. “Well, not with that attitude.”

–

“My stars,” Maglor said quietly. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A palantir, yes,” said Gandalf, carefully inspecting the dark stone that Wormtongue had thrown out the window. “One of the seven lost seeing-stones, capable of…”

“Yes, yes, Mithrandir, I know perfectly well what a palantir is,” Maglor interrupted. “They’re only a bloody family heirloom. Damned useful, too, when your family is spread out over half the continent and letters take about a year to be delivered. I always did wonder what became of the old things.”

“So it is true,” Gandalf said in awe. “The palantiri were created by Feanor.”

Maglor snorted. “Of course they were. Who else do you think could have had the skill and motivation to make them? Father had seven children to keep track of, you know, and this was really the only sensible way to do it. May I?” He held out a hand, and after a moment’s hesitation Gandalf gave him the stone.

“So this belonged to one of your brothers?” Pippin asked eagerly. “Which one was it?”

“That is just what I am trying to find out.” Maglor turned the stone in his hands and sang a few quick words in an ancient dialect of Quenya (and of those assembled, only Gandalf was able to recognize that they meant “turn on, you dratted thing”). For a moment nothing happened at all, before the stone lit up with a crimson glow and emitted a vaguely exasperated-sounding noise. Maglor smiled with satisfaction as it faded back to black.

“Ah, just as I thought. This one was Caranthir’s,” he said. “He’s been gone for two ages and his palantir is still annoyed about people calling him. And, where is it…ah, just there, you see that crack?” He indicated a hairline fissure barely visible in the stone’s dark surface. “That right there is from when I was visiting Caranthir and we quarrelled, and he threw this at me. Fortunately I ducked out of the way, but I thought it was going to bring down the fortress when it hit the wall. It’s funny, you know, Father created these things to be indestructible but he really didn’t bank on the force of Caranthir’s temper.”

Pippin shook his head. “It’s funny, you know, when Frodo and Bilbo are going on about the First Age one tends to imagine everyone being very solemn and dignified. Not going about chucking things at their brothers.”

Maglor smiled and patted Pippin on the head rather condescendingly. “Clearly, Mr. Took, you have been learning the wrong kind of history.”

–

Frodo’s worries that he would have no one other than Bilbo and Elrond to talk to on the long voyage to Valinor were assuaged as he and the others made their way onto the upper deck and saw who was already there.

“You!” Frodo exclaimed.

“You!” Maglor replied, smiling broadly and looking about a millennium younger (was it possible, Frodo wondered, for Elves to age in reverse?). “You’ll be coming along then, will you? I must say, I am rather on the fence about this journey. The last time I was on a ship was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, but then those were…unusual circumstances. I don’t expect we’ll have nearly as much trouble this time.”

“If we do have any trouble, I am throwing you overboard immediately,” Cirdan grumbled. “Elrond, are you quite certain you have thought this through?”

“Absolutely,” Elrond said firmly. “And if the Valar have any issues with my father returning home after everything he’s helped us accomplish, they can have it out with me.”

Elrond and Cirdan ushered Bilbo down to his cabin, while Frodo remained on the deck, taking an awkward seat beside Maglor. The breeze whipped around them as the ship began to move away from shore, and Frodo suddenly found himself unaccountably nervous.

“Maglor,” he said. “What is Valinor like?”

“Well, you know, I haven’t been there in some time,” Maglor said thoughtfully. “But from what I recall, it is a thoroughly fine place. Pleasant weather, good food, kind people. You and your uncle will be given a hero’s welcome, I can almost guarantee.”

“And you? What kind of welcome will you get?”

“I rather imagine there will be a long line of people waiting to slap me! But I can’t say I mind that so very much. I don’t particularly care what sort of welcome the general public gives me, as long as I can see my family again.” His smile faded slightly as the reality of their destination seemed to sink in. “Frodo, do you think…do you think it will have been enough? Do I have any chance at all of being forgiven?”

“Oh, honestly, Maglor,” Frodo said, rolling his eyes. “You helped lead the armies of Gondor and Rohan against Sauron, and you certainly saved my neck a time or two. If your family isn’t inclined to forgive you, I’ll have words with them myself.”

“You Hobbits,” Maglor laughed. “You certainly are fiercer than your appearance suggests. But there is one person I don’t think you’ll be able to defend me from.”

“Who’s that?”

“My mother.” Maglor shook his head, pushing a few errant curls off his forehead. “She’s going to kill me for being gone so long.”

[thewarriorandtheking]

Catching Up

The Warrior Queen: The Warrior and The KIng - Book II

Chapter 10. Catching Up

***************************************

Kaylea awoke lying in her bed. She must have dozed off. She felt Thorin against her back, his arm around her waist. The walls were set to a grove of trees on Dorsai, the sky was just turning pink above the mountains on the far wall. She could feel Thorin was awake and put her hand over his, snuggling against him.

“What time is it?” Thorin asked. It had taken him a moment to remember where he was. He was sleeping in the most comfortable bed he had ever been in, but he was also in a grove of trees. Then he remembered, he was on a spaceship with the woman he loved and a giant orange cat who could read minds.

“The projection shows the time outside,” Kaylea replied. “It is an hour before dawn.”

Thorin sighed, he was so comfortable he did not want to move but he knew Kaylea never stayed still for long. This time she did not move immediately, just leaned back against him watching the dawn light grow stronger. Thorin looked around the room, there was not much personal about it. He had seen last night the walls opened up into all kinds of storage spaces: weapons, clothing, tools. There was a narrow desk along one wall and a table beside the bed, both without any kind of object or decoration on them. As he was looking at the desk a rectangular frame appeared on the wall, a blue light blinking in the corner.

A soft, melodious voice said something in a strange language. Thorin started, what was that? Kaylea answered in the same language. The blinking light stopped, the frame on the wall remained.

“Who was that?” He asked.

“That was the Ship,” Kaylea said. “This starship is run by a kind of machine that thinks, it can also talk.” Thorin knew what she was talking about, the ship’s computer. Pilot must have put that one in his head.

“But what was that, on the wall?”  

“Message from someone I do not feel like talking to today.”

Thorin shifted to look at her face. “You can do that? Talk to people across the stars?”

“Yes,” she turned her head to look at him. “I know, I put this off too long.”

Thorin lay back down, hugging her. “All these years, we could have been talking to each other,” he sighed. “I hope you are giving me something so I can send you messages when you leave.”

Kaylea arched her back against him. “That, and a few other things,” she said.

“Are you giving me a rifle, my love?” He whispered in her ear, now he knew what they were called. “I will make it worth your while.” He moved his hand down between her legs.

Kaylea laughed, taking hold of his hand and bringing it back up to her chest. “No. If I give you one of those you will start building them and all Blackwolf’s work to protect this place will be undone. Not to mention he will have my head on a plate.”

Thorin sighed, tightening his arm around her. It got him thinking about the projectiles. Most of the weapon he understood, the barrel would be very hard to make but not impossible. What stumped him was the projectiles. How to move them down the barrel?

“Is this really how you live? I think your quarters in Erebor have more decoration than these,” Thorin told her.

Kaylea chuckled. “You do realize this whole ship moves? You cannot leave loose things lying around,” she reached over and touched the wall next to the bed. A drawer slid out, she reached into it and stood up a photo of Thorin she had taken in Erebor. “You are right here, my king.”

Thorin smiled. “So, you sleep with my portrait beside your bed, as I sleep with yours,” he said. “Do you also dream of the day I wake up beside you every morning?”

“I try not to dwell on things that may never come to pass,” she replied. When Thorin started to reply she put a finger on his lips. “You promised to think about all I have shown you. Do not speak until you do.” Kaylea rubbed his arm. “I suppose we should get up, we have a long ride today. Let me show you what I really miss when I am in Middle Earth.”

She took him to the bathroom and showed him the shower. After explaining the control panel and how the dispensers worked, she turned it on. Thorin grinned widely, feeling the warm water, now that was a great idea. He stepped into the spray and pulled Kaylea in with him. When they were clean, which took a bit longer than it might have, Kaylea hit the dryer switch and held her head under the fast dryer, then moved so Thorin could do the same. All she needed to do was add some oil to her braids and she could go a few days without having to redo them. When Thorin stepped out he looked back at the shower, as if fixing the idea in his mind.

“I am definitely building one of those,” he said with a grin. “Clean and dry in less time than it takes to draw a bath.”

Kaylea had put on her leggings and tunic, when Thorin was dressed they went out to the kitchen where there was already coffee waiting. Kaylea poured them each a cup and took them to the bridge to watch the sunrise. It would be some time before the sun hit the valley the ship was parked in. Kaylea touched the console and a small screen appeared filled with some kind of writing. She scanned it briefly before turning to Thorin with a smile. He was sitting in the chair where Pilot had been yesterday, being careful not to touch anything.

“We still need to do some catching up,” Kaylea said. “If it is not too painful to tell, I would like to know what happened to your wife.”

Thorin took a deep breath, remembering. “As I said, it is an old grief now. She traveled to visit her family every couple of years, she loved to ride ponies and was always jealous of that horse from Rohan that I had. One year a trader came up from the south with some small horses, I bought one for myself and she persuaded me to buy one for her. She rode him to visit her parents that year and used to ride him often around the Lonely Mountain. One day she was out riding. Durin was with her, he said her horse spooked at something on a narrow trail and reared up, fell over backward right on top of her and they both rolled a hundred feet down the mountain. I believe she was killed instantly. As I said, there was nothing anyone could have done.”

Kaylea shook her head. “Durin being there explains his dislike for me. He was there when his mother died and now he thinks you dishonor her memory by trying to replace her.”

Thorin looked down into his cup, shaking his head. “I am not trying to replace her, how can he not see that? And he knew she had a lover, the same as me.”

Kaylea sighed. “One does not often have control over one’s feelings. Your other son has a tremendous crush on me, and Freya likes me, so that makes it two out of three.” She looked out the viewscreen at the dawn breaking over the hills. “You know this war I have been talking about is very close now, it may start any day.”

Thorin nodded. He told her about a messenger that had come to Erebor from the Dark Lord promising the return of three of the Dwarven rings in exchange for information about a Halfling named Baggins and a ring he carried. Kaylea listened intently, then told him the story of how Bilbo came by the ring in the caverns under the Misty Mountains.

“I cannot believe Bilbo Baggins of all people is in possession of the One Ring!” Thorin said, shaking his head. “Turns out he was quite the burglar after all. Is this why you are here now? Is there a plan to keep it safe?”

She nodded. “Yes, that is Gandalf’s part. It does change things if Sauron is now looking for a Halfling, he must know something of the story of how it was found. I am here to investigate other rumors, it may be that some we looked to as allies in this fight have changed their allegiances.”

Thorin looked out the viewscreen thoughtfully. “We could use more allies, not less.” He looked at her. “Do you think your Pilot can tell if my people still survive in Khazad-dum? It has been more than 30 years since we had any word from Balin.”

“You know I doubt any of his party are left alive,” Kaylea replied. “To attempt to retake Moria without a plan to deal with Durin’s Bane was absolute folly, as I told him. But we can ask Pilot. Where is he?”

“Pilot is outside the ship, sir,” came the reply in that melodious voice, speaking Khuzdul this time. Thorin started involuntarily, that voice from nowhere took some getting used to, as would most things in Kaylea’s world. Kayea said they could talk to him when he came back.

“Can you tell me more about is this Lord Blackwolf you serve?” Thorin asked. “You seem to know him well. Are you so certain he would not allow you to travel to Middle Earth when you want to? Even if you told him it was to see the man you loved?”

Kaylea looked sharply at Thorin. “He does not know about you,” she turned to face him. “If he knew I had another reason for coming to Middle Earth beyond the fact I love this planet and wish to defend it, he would probably ban me forever.”  

Thorin gave her a puzzled look. “Because I am a Dwarf?”

“Because everything Blackwolf does is about power. Knowing there is someone here I love is a weapon he could hold over me forever.”

Thorin looked at her gravely. “I assume there is some binding reason you serve this lord. He does not sound just or reasonable.”

“The Empire is a very different place than Middle Earth. To keep a hold on power there he must use every advantage, and he is very good at that,” Kaylea looked out at the mountains around them. “There is a lot of history between me and Blackwolf. Out there I command an elite fighting force, we are said to be the Emperor’s personal guard but we actually work for Blackwolf. He is the true power behind the throne. I trained long and hard to get where I am, dealing with Blackwolf is the price I pay to do what I was born to do.”

“Wait a moment,” Thorin frowned. “You said he was originally from Middle Earth, how did he get to the stars? Did he build himself a spaceship?”

Kaylea smiled. “There are other ways to travel to the stars. I do not believe he is the only Elven lord who knows how, just one of the few who has actually done it.”  

As they were talking Pilot came in and took a seat along the wall. He looked over at Thorin. “You seem to be adjusting well to all this, your majesty.”

Thorin smiled ruefully. “Thanks partly to you.”

Kaylea asked the Kzin what he could see in Moria. Pilot called up a map of Middle Earth on the screen and Thorin pointed out where Khazad-dum lay, astonished to see the land laid out from above in its natural formations. Both Mirkwood and Lothlorien were clearly visible, which helped him get his bearings. The Kzin studied the map for a time with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Goblins, more goblins, orcs, cave trolls,” Pilot closed his eyes. “Something nasty in the water at the western door. There is something…” His voice trailed off, he looked at Thorin. “I do not know, there is some kind of presence there I have not felt before, but it is faint. Sleeping perhaps, or waiting for something. I read no Dwarves.”

“I am sorry,” Kaylea said. “It is as I feared.” Thorin bowed his head. It was also what he had expected, but Balin had been one of his closest friends and advisors, and many of his people had gone with him. Kaylea and Pilot sat in silence with him for a time, to honor the fallen. When Kaylea moved again, she called up a window on the console and made some entries then got up and went to the far wall, taking something out of a slot. Thorin watched her curiously as she brought it over to him. It was a slim metal rectangle that fit easily into his hand, one side had a beautiful brushed finish the other looked like glass. “When you are ready, Pilot will take you through it,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I am so sorry, my king.” She picked up his coffee cup and went to refill it and make some breakfast.

Thorin was saddened to hear about his people in Khazad-dum, but in a way he had already done his mourning for Balin, he had known when he let him go to Moria that he likely would never return. He turned the thing Kaylea had given him over in his hands. “What is this?” He asked the Kzin. Pilot gave him a closed-lipped smile.

By the time Kaylea came back Thorin was already making a call to her. Her handheld which she had left on the console was chiming. She smiled and hit the receive key. Kaylea could not believe how fast Thorin picked things up, having a telepath there to seamlessly insert instructions in his head was part of it, but it was also his natural affinity for understanding how things worked. She had enabled only a few functions on the handheld she gave him, not wanting to return to Erebor to find electric lights and steam engines.

The two of them set out for Erebor later that morning. Kaylea had given Thorin two sets of the woven armor she used, much lighter and more comfortable than mail and no weapon of Middle Earth could pierce it. She also had let him choose a couple of axes from her armory. They were light, beautifully balanced and sharp as razors. Thorin would rather have had a rifle, but the ax was one of his favorite weapons. Dearest to his heart was the device she had given him, now he would be able to speak with her and see her when she was away from Middle Earth. He carried it in a pocket inside his tunic, he was already thinking about the case he would make for it.

On the way back they talked about what Kaylea’s life was like out among the stars. She told him that she was always working and unless he wanted to play the faithful husband waiting at home he would need to do the same training as her soldiers. The Sardaukar were organized into three-man teams, so if Thorin could pass the training he would become part of her team. She warned him the training was far from easy. Thorin just laughed.

“After all these years you still think threatening me with a challenge is going to stop me?”

“The Sardaukar are the toughest warriors in the galaxy. Training typically lasts three years and less than ten out of a hundred make it,” Kaylea replied gravely. “Some of them die.”

Thorin tightened his arms around her, bringing his lips close to her ear. “And I will graduate at the top of my class. All this time and you still do not know me.”

“I am only letting you know what you are getting into before you decide if you want to continue down this path with me. A few more things for you to think about, before you make your decision.”

As if that decision was not already made, Thorin thought to himself, tightening his arms around her. He would not let her go. He had known that since the first time he saw her in the sunset on the way to Rivendell all those years ago.

Read the complete adventures of The Warrior and The King on AO3 & FanFiction, author is akdogdriver. All three books now also on Wattpad. 

[acelucky]

Sailing into the Past

Pairing: Bilbo x Thorin  Warnings:  A little angst   Word Count: 2,887

Summary: Before sailing into the West, Bilbo has some time to reflect in Rivendell. His thoughts are often with one particular Dwarf, but when Pippin questions him on how his adventure changes him, memories and emotions come flooding in and Bilbo hopes on this new adventure he will be reunited with his love.

I loved writing this (although it made me a little sad) I wrote it as part of my work for NaNoWriMo 2018. Usually my Hobbit/lord of the rings material ends up 'Mature/Explicit' so I was happy with it!

I took a few liberties with story-line/plot points etc to make this fit, but I think it works okay!

Merry and Pippin stood side by side, looking into the mirror, studying their own reflections. Whilst only a short period of time had passed when considering the life span of hobbits since setting out from The Shire, they both appeared weathered and years older than they were. Decades even Pippin would say, though Frodo would laugh and accuse Pippin of exaggerating as he often did.

“You don’t suppose things can go back to how they were before, do you Merry?”

Merry turned to his friend, “No Pippin, I think that ship has long since sailed.”

Pippin smiled a sorrowful smile, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“But dear friend, we’re alive and can enjoy all the food, ale and smoking our hearts desire,” he nudged Pippin who laughed in response and put his arm around the other.

“Yes, that is what I can live for.”

“I wonder will our lives ever go back to how they were before?” Pippin asked, a little amount of trepidation evident in the way he spoke.

Merry searched his face in the mirror, he wanted to lie to Pippin, to offer some release from the worry that plagued him, but felt unable to, “No, not entirely at least, but that isn’t a bad thing.”

Pippin nodded, he didn’t need to say anything further. Since returning to The Shire from their adventure life had indeed been different. Some folk acted the same as if they’d never been away, others as if they’d seen a ghost. But it was hard to go about one’s gardening or cooking in quite the same way as they had before. They both thought of Boromir often, to loose someone so dear to them and have to continue without them was a struggle only the other knew.

Now they were back in Rivendell, Gandalf had invited the four hobbits along to say goodbye to Bilbo as well as himself, Elrond and Galadriel. Their small merry party was now a sorrowful one, though they did not regret coming on one last little adventure.

They both turned from the mirror and walked out onto the balcony.

“I don’t think we’ll ever see anywhere as beautiful as this,” Merry sighed as he admired the view and pulled out his pipe.

Pippin, ever curious, ever the innocent looked up at Merry, “But what about The Shire.”

Merry took a puff on his pipe and patted Pippin on the shoulder, “Yes Pippin, I think home might beat this.”

Bilbo was sat close to them on the edge of the balcony with his eyes closed on a bench, his hands were on his walking stick. He was smiling, clearly enjoying the peace the Elven realm had to offer.

Merry and Pippin approached carefully, afraid to scare the much older hobbit and wanting to remain respectful as they did so. They sat on a bench next to him, Bilbo’s nose twitched as he sensed their presence.

“Hello my dear boys.”

Bilbo opened his eyes and smiled fondly at the hobbits, “Care to join me for a smoke?” They both nodded in agreement and the three of them sat staring out at the waterfall in silence for a moment as they smoked.

“Bilbo,” As Pippin spoke Merry shot him a warning look.

“Yes?” Bilbo sounded frail as he spoke.

“You’ve been on a great adventure yourself, how did it change you? Did you lose people too?”

“Ahhh dear boy,” there was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke that seemed to the others like it might be tears.

“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped a line,” Pippin jumped off the bench.

“Not at all, it changes you, yes, how could it not?” Bilbo spoke slowly, he himself shuffled forward on the bench and then hobbled over to the ledge. “Ahh I remember the first time I came here, I never thought I would see something so beautiful and was sure I would never see something as beautiful again…”

“And did you?” Merry asked.

“No, I saw a great many wonders, beauty beyond compare and yet, nothing came close to this.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his hands rested on the marble, there was a sorrow in his voice of the likes the hobbits had not heard before.

“And loss,” He turned to them, “Yes, I know all about loss.” He looked beyond them, deep in thought, caught up in his memory of things that had been, things that were and the memories he would never know.

He thought of Thorin Oakenshield, his bronzed skin, the way he imagined he would have looked working in a kiln. He thought of the last time he saw him, of the party tree that grew back in Hobbiton.

Tears welled in Bilbo’s eyes as he remembered the promised they had made to one another in the shadows, how he knew he had softened the dwarf’s heart. They had kissed just once, cuddled into one another, the nights were long and cold, dangerous too. So no one could have questioned how close they were to each other or blamed them for that closeness. The kiss had been the kindest he had ever known, soft, loving, Thorin’s beard scratched against his smooth skin. Bilbo would have done anything in that moment to have felt it once more. He would have forsaken his own life had it meant he could have spent a single other evening with him.

His thoughts then went to Kili and Fili, two brave young souls who were taken from the world far too young. Was that the price of war? The price of power, such a loss, such a pity. He felt himself shake at the mere thought of their faces, the smell, the way they’d braided one another’s hair. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had fed an apple to Bill the pony and talked nonsense to him at night. That he had taken a bowl of Bombur’s fabulous stew to the two Princes, and they had watched the trolls. He thought of the dwarf spit above the fire, of Smaug, a dragon, a hobbit facing off a dragon! Fancy that! He thought of the splendour of Elven halls and Dwarven halls, of Thranduil riding a great, silver elk.

He thought of all of the dwarves, how long it had been since he had seen their faces. Gandalf had informed him of the deaths of Balin and Ori, his heart had broken then. He had gone a life time believing he couldn’t have stood any further grieve, but the ring had protected him from all that pain, shielded him from the real world.

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo opened his eyes and saw Merry and Pippin stood either side of him, a hand gently on each of his arms.

Bilbo shed a tear, “Sorry lads, didn’t mean to get lost in my thoughts, that adventure I went on. I told the story so well to all the children, I told them of all the fun, excitement, all the good bits. But ahhh the bits I missed out, the things I always tried to protect others from. Yes, dear boys, I know all about loss, what it is like to lose some of your closest, dearest friends, to lose the person you hold most dearest in the world.”

“We’re sorry Bilbo.”

“Ahhh it was a lifetime ago, and now I prepare to sail into the Grey Havens, maybe perhaps there I will finally find peace and be able to close this chapter of my life.”

“How do you deal with it?”

Merry shot Pippin another warning glance, “The grief I mean, how do you live with it?”

Bilbo shuffled a little on the spot and then smiled fondly, “By holding onto the memories, by holding onto those you love, by holding onto one another. Nothing lasts forever, everything comes to pass in the end and that my dears is a great comfort to me. You get through it because you must, you survive because instinct tells you to and because others need you. For the most part of my older life I was somewhat of a recluse, true, I wasn’t overly fond of others at times and loved my books a little too much, just like when I was young. But… three things got me through.”

Merry and Pippin hung on his every word, expecting the answer to their woes to fall from his lips.

“Firstly, I watched the oak tree grow, I planted that acorn when I got back from my adventure and every year it grew little by little. That has been one of my greatest joys and sources of comfort, watching something grow which I had given birth to in a sense. Secondly, Frodo, my dear nephew, watching him grow, telling him and all the other children of my adventures, that was another source of comfort to me. Thirdly, my book, writing about my adventures and especially reliving the best bits, that gave me a great comfort.”

Bilbo started to walk, “Come with me, let us go speak with Elrond and he shall console you further, as once he did to me.”

The two hobbits walked alongside Bilbo, helping him to walk, in his old age he struggled so they took an arm each and steadied him.

“Bilbo there you are!” Frodo’s optimistic voice called across.

“Ahhh come join us on our walk my dear boys.”

Frodo and Sam joined the others, the five hobbits happily walking in silence for some time, just happy to be in one another’s company and listen to the sound of the running river and birds high in the trees.

“There you are,” Gandalf’s voice boomed across at them, there was no anger in his voice however, he just seemed tired now and older than before. He looked with fondest at the oldest hobbit, tilted his head to the side and smiled, “Come Bilbo, it is time.”

Bilbo nodded in agreement, his hand reaching out for Gandalf’s. They followed him to a carriage, there were just a few ready to sail out to the final boat.

As he sat in the carriage he pulled his blanket up around him, it was the same blanket he and Thorin had used all those moons ago. He knew there was no way he could still smell the great Dwarven King and yet he would still pull it up to his nose and inhale deeply. For it made him feel safe.

His only hopes from life now were that he could sleep forever and in his dreams be reunited with his only love. The thought of seeing Thorin again, of his warm embrace, the smile he had, stroking his hair, made him weep.

He hoped that in the next world he would appear in the great halls under the lonely mountain, there would be tables covered in food and wine, glowing candles and the riches were not that of silver nor gold, but of friendship and love. The kind that warmed your heart to your belly and your very soul.

“Bilbo, you have changed me,” Thorin’s words echoed in Bilbo’s mind. He had to shake his head as if trying to get rid of them, it wasn’t a bad memory, just painful and he didn’t want the other hobbits to see him sad.

Bilbo felt like nothing in Thorin’s arms, weightless, as a feather carried by a great, rapid current. Thorin was the storm that raged and Bilbo was the calm ocean after a storm.

“If we make it out of this alive, I will smother you with riches beyond your wildest dreams.”

Bilbo had shaken his head to this, “No, Thorin, I don’t want riches of that nature, I only want you,” he wrinkled his nose, “I’ve spent my whole life wondering about love, whether I would ever find it or not. I always thought I was a little strange, everyone else seemed so happy, crazy in love even…. and yet there were many pretty hobbits, beautiful women, I enjoyed to look at them, they were pleasing on the eye you see, the same way a well arranged garden is or a warm hearth. I loved many women, but not in the way you read about in story books… I thought I would never find love, but you, the moment I saw you back in Bag End I just, anything that was frozen inside me was instantly melted.”

Thorin had stroked his hair, “I cannot imagine you with a frozen heart at all.”

Bilbo nodded, “It’s true you know.”

Thorin chuckled, “No, I won’t have it, not my Bilbo,” he leant forward and rubbed his nose against Bilbo’s.

They had spent one night laid by one another’s side, when the others weren’t looking they would steal glances at one another, small smiles, the kind of facial expression that others could easily miss. There was a point when Bilbo thought Fili and Kili might have guessed, they noticed the looks between their Uncle and the hobbit and had given one another knowing glances before whispering away from the others so no one else could hear.

The day at Erebor when Thorin ordered the others to take Bilbo’s life for stealing the Arkenstone had nearly broken Bilbo’s heart. Even now, after all of these years when he thought back on it he felt a great sorrow that in the end even his love wasn’t quite enough to break the terrible spell that had taken ahold of his love.

The way Thorin’s voice had changed, the anger in it, the sound of portrayal. Bilbo had begged, had wished that Thorin would see he had made the choices he had to protect the dwarf, for Thorin was behaving as no good King would. Bilbo had done it to save him, he believed that in his dying moments realisation had washed over Thorin and he knew this to be true.

The moment Thorin’s eyes had closed, Bilbo wished the world could have sucked him up, taken him with him. A world without that adventure, without the happy ending that Thorin had promised him, barely seemed like a life he wanted to live.

But then there was Gandalf, Gandalf had given him the strength he needed to return him and continue with his life, to write down his tale so that Thorin, Fili and Kili would live in forever, so that their story would pass into the halls of fame and through the valley of Kings.

Bilbo’s thoughts kept him company during the short journey to the shoreline. Dismounting from the carriage, Bilbo stared at Frodo, Samwise, Merry and Pippin, he wondered how they felt when they returned home for the first time. Did their homes seem as empty as his had? Did material possessions now seem worthless to them as they had to him? He pitied them in a way and in anther he felt glad, they had their wholes lives ahead of them and plenty of joy to come, more adventures, love, they would have the chance to move on from whatever terrors they had seen.

When he arrived in the white harbour he had the same reaction he had had when he saw both Rivendell and Erebor for the first time, he was blown away by it’s beauty. The ship that was awaiting for him was a gorgeous, carved, elven ship. Galadriel, Celeborn and Elrond were waiting for him with open arms.

He turned back to the hobbits one last time and gave them a frail hug, “So how has home been?”

They smiled fondly at him, with tears in their eyes, “It has changed and we are not the same, but just as you said, the memories of one another and each other’s love, that is what keeps us going,” Pippin said as he hugged Bilbo farewell.

Gandalf looked at Bilbo with a melancholy look, “Go on now my dear friend, let us sail together.”

“Yes I quite think I am ready for another adventure.”

Gandalf gave Frodo a knowing look and bowed, “Frodo, it is time.”

There was unexpected sorrow then, Merry, Pippin and Samwise wept for having to say goodbye to their dearest friend. But in their hearts they had always known this was what lay ahead in their future, that for them life may return to what was before or at least as close as it could. That while they were changed, there was a chance for them to live a normal, though wiser and richer life. But for Frodo, since Weathertop there could be no going back, not really. So in the end, they made their peace for they knew it was right.

Bilbo took Frodo’s hand in his own after the younger hobbit had said his goodbyes and turned to the elves. Walking slowly up to them, in his mind he heard Galadriel talk to him secretly, “The great thing about sailing into the West, is you never know who might be waiting for you when you get there.”

As Bilbo stepped onto the ship he could swear he heard a voice, “Come home to me Bilbo, come home, I am waiting, the hearth is hot, there is more mead than myself or my nephews could ever manage to drink and there is food fit for a hero.”

[foxrun-fluffery]

The Greatest Distance

Summary: Thorin’s company is displaced in time by Gandalf, due to an emergency. They land in front of country girl Piper and her son. After recognizing them, mostly, she realizes that in no way can they be left on their own in this modern world, and now she has to cope with some of the strangest house guests ever!

OC/Canon ship to develop.

Tag List: @sdavid09, @fallnangelcreations

                                         CHAPTER TWO

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A trip down the freeway, and a ride in a truck.

In the unsettling moments after their arrival, a number of the dwarves were caught by surprise with a heavy wave of nausea. More than a few empties their stomachs, which took a good deal longer for poor Bombur, upon the ground they arrived upon. Bofur, still struggling to hold his dinner down, patted his brother’s back and tried to speak comfortingly, and it would have worked had he not been gagging every third word.

Those who weren’t divesting themselves of their dinner were looking around in various stages of dazed unease. Dwalin and Gloin recovered first and they were pacing a circle around the others, trying to spot any threats. The only thing they saw was a young boy, who was sitting in a swing nearby, staring at them, his jaw hanging. Dwalin cursed, while Gloin tried to apply his best “fun dad” voice to the situation.

“Hey, now, don’t worry ‘bout what ye just saw, laddie.” Gloin kept his hands up In a pacifying manner. “We jus’, erm, we jus’ go’ here, ain’t nothin’ t’ worry about…” and he sighed heavily when the child sprang off the bench and ran to the other side of a large construct, that the dwarf assumed to be a play space for the child, and likely any others who would come by.

“Moooooooooooooom!” The child yelled, running behind the structure.

The others clambered to their feet and stood in a tight group, around their youngest members and their leader. They also made certain to stand a comfortable distance from where some of them had heaved. Which was a lovely odd sort of picture when the child returned, with his mother in tow. The group rippled with some quiet murmurs, and Balin found himself pushed to the forefront.

“Ah, lass, we didn’t mean to frighten you’re bairn, quite sorry about that.” He said as politely and diplomatically as he could, praying to their distant Mahal that she both understood and would stay calm. In his experience mothers of small children could be quite unpredictable. With luck she wasn’t at all like the dwarrowdam who had lived near them back in Ered Luin, she would go off into fits of someone so much as looked at her wee dwarflings wrong.

The woman, who was quite unusual to them to start with, seemed to be entirely caught off guard. She had brightly colored hair, which no one among the dwarves even dared believe was natural, and wore tight fitting leggings, along with a low scoop cut blouse, with the face of a cat on it. Shocking to all of them was how short her hair was, buzzed on one side and longer on the other, it barely reached her chin. What sort of woman had so little hair!?

“Uhm…” She started, looking dumbfounded. A whole gaggle of oddly familiar men were staring at her and one spoke.

“They came from the air!” The boy said, gripping her hand with both of his and bouncing up and down with such enthusiasm that his mother was jerked around.

“Okay okay, leave my arm attached!” She hissed at him, drawing her hand back from the four year old. “I see them! Honey, I don’t think they came from nowhere. People don’t just… pop out of the air!”

“Moooom!” The boy insisted, sounding frustrated now. “They did!” He stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his TMNT t-shirt. “You never listen…” At four he felt very grown up now, and he also felt that his mother ought to listen to him more than she did sometimes.

While the two humans were speaking, Bifur looked over to see his cousin standing with his jaw hanging open, staring at the woman. He glanced between them for a second, before a smug grin spread on his face, and he eyed her more skeptically. She wasn’t a great deal taller than any of them, perhaps a handful of inches over Thorin’s height, and while she didn’t have the stockiness of a dwarf, she certainly had pleasant curves, and her clothes didn’t hide that fact at all. How did anyone let a woman like this out dressed so!? Then an awful thought struck him, if she had a child, she had a husband. He looked to Bofur once more, and saw the pain on his cousin’s face, feeling quite crestfallen himself. What an awful curse!

“Ah, yes, actually, miss, your young boy may have a point,” Balin ventured slowly. “We,” he glanced over at his king and received a subtle nod telling him to continue. “We did rather appear out of thin air.”

“Excuse me?” She faced him with her brows raised, looking skeptical and unamused. While she didn’t find offense in his attitude, she didn’t appreciate someone leading her son on about things she had just explained to him couldn’t happen. Something nagged the back of her mind every time she looked at them. They looked so familiar! Why couldn’t she place where she had seen them before?

Another figure pushed his way forward in the rag-tag group. “Ah, ye can’t really hold it against the poor lad, we did just pop up on him!” Bofur insisted, coming to the boy’s defense, if only because he couldn’t stand not saying something to her at the moment. “If yer gonna be angry at him fer his words--” “I’m not angry, I just didn’t want him telling me tall tales, thank you.” The woman replied curtly.

With a heavy sigh, Balin nudged Bofur back. “Before we get off on the wrong foot,” he shot the hatted dwarf a glare. “I apologize for my… friend.” Shaking his head he smiled politely once more. “My name is Balin, son of Fundin, at your service.” He bowed, and stood up to explain more, but saw the woman had clapped her hands over her mouth in shock. “I.. uhm… we, rather… a-are you alright?”

“Dwarves…” she muttered, recognizing them then. It had been a few years since she had watched any of those movies, or even read the book for that matter. But it was slowly clicking into place. They looked exactly like the cast of The Hobbit! “You’re… oh my!” What detailed cosplayers! As a bit of a nerd herself, though she tended towards more science fiction, she was thoroughly impressed. “Just missing a hobbit, huh?” “No! I’m right here!” Bilbo piped up, before he realized her statement was rather strange, considering they didn’t know her, and expected she didn’t know them. He shuffled through the dwarves to step forward.

“Wha--” This was too much suddenly. He was a very very tiny Martin Freeman. Quite exactly. Her eyes scanned the crowd, Aiden Turner, Richard Armitage, and Dean O’Gorman, those faces she recognized immediately, others she spotted but didn’t recall their names, for they hadn’t been in many other things she had watched. Dwalin and Bofur were among them. After a second she realized she was looking up at them, and a few were running to her side. Without realizing she had sat down quite abruptly, her legs giving out under her. “Y-- you… you… you’re… hu~uh~...” With an trembling exhale, she looked them all over.

She lifted one hand to grip her son’s wrist, reassuring herself he was still there. “Am… am I dreaming?” She asked them, quite calmly after a moment.

“No, lass.” Balin assured her in a gentle tone, knelt before her. She looked a touch too pale for his comfort. “You see true.”

“Take it easy now,” Bofur urged, crouched at her side. “Just breathe… tha’s a girl!” He reached out to gently rub her back, but couldn’t help but grimace when she tensed under his touch. “Sorry…”

“I’m… I’m alright… Just… gimme a sec.” She shivered, looking up at all of them. “What… are you doing here? You’re… you’re not…” “That damned wizard sent us here,” Thorin rumbled from nearby.

“That’s a bad word!” The boy piped up, pointing a finger at the king.

“Riordan!” His mother hissed.

Turning his blue gaze on the boy, Thorin cracked a grin after a second, and leaned down, setting his hands on his knees, as he had done with Kili and Fili when they were young. “That is is, young man. You’re very right, and I’m sorry if I used foul language in front of you and your mother. Will you forgive me?”

Not quite accustomed to being spoken to in such an adult way by strangers, most people tended to just pass the kid off as a young one who got half baby-talked to, Riordan slowly nodded, while leaning against his mother’s shoulder shyly. “Yeah.” Then, perhaps inspired by Thorin’s directness with him, he smiled, “I’m Riordan at your… uhm…” “Service,” Balin filled in for him, realizing the boy was mimicking his earlier introduction.

All of the dwarves grinned when the boy bowed, if a little awkwardly. While not all of them were fathers or uncles themselves, it was natural for their kind to cherish children. And the boy was undeniably adorable.

While this transpired, the woman slowly got herself back to her feet, brushing off her backside. “Right well I’m… I think I need to sit somewhere still… Rio, go play some more, okay? Let mommy think a bit.” She ushered her boy off towards the playground.

Riordan didn’t seem too pleased, but he followed her command, not before groaning in exasperation. However at the prospect of playing, instead of talking to a bunch of adults, he was soon bounding off to have fun on the playground equipment.

Balin helped the woman over to a bench, and watched as she sat down. He took a seat next to her. “I’m sorry if we upset you, lassie. We’re quite out of sorts ourselves. You see… we were on a bit of a journey--” “I bet.” “When we were sent here.” Balin looked over at her, wondering what she had meant.

“So… so you’re… you’re really real…?” She looked over at him, raising her hand to gently touch his shoulder, then it ghosted up to his cheek. Eventually she straight up poked his nose, gently of course.

Balin chuckled, letting her touch his face, realizing she was still trying to cope with this new reality as much as they were. At least they had had warning. “Aye, lass, we’re quite real. Ah, now, this here is Bofur, and here is Dori, Ori, Dwalin, and our leader, Thorin. And our b-- hobbit, Bilbo.” Introducing him as a burglar seemed in poor taste in this situation. “And that’s Fili and Kili, playing with your lad.” Looking up, she smiled a little to watch her son laughing as the dark haired brother caught him at the bottom of the tall slide, the lighter haired dwarf at the top, having followed him up. “I’m Piper.” She introduced herself, looking over to Thorin first then. “So… you’re really dwarves… of Middle Earth?”

“You know of us?” Thorin asked, suddenly on edge.

“Y-yeah…” Piper’s mind flashed a red flag. If she told them of certain events… it could be disastrous, she’d seen too many television shows dealing with time travel and knew she couldn’t tell them. “Your world… is a land of fable in ours. It’s a story book. A very old one, actually. But… how are you here?” “Gandalf.” Thorin huffed. “Likely the doing of the Valar, for what reason I cannot fathom.” He looked away, at his nephews who were happily entertaining the boy and giving Piper time to think. Though he almost wondered, watching Kili going down the ramp on his behind, that his younger nephew wasn’t doing it just for fun himself. He caught Fili’s eye and the two exchanged a nod. Yes, they were good lads, and quite understanding.

“I see… so you just got sent here? Why here?” Piper asked, looking around at them all as they were once again gathering around her.

“We don’t really know for sure, except Gandalf said we would be safe here.” Bilbo spoke, from not too far from her knee. He winced when she jumped, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. This must all be quite surprising for you.”

“For me…?” Piper’s eyes widened, “Not nearly as much as it must be for all of you!” Looking around at them, she realized that they stood out like a sore thumb. “Oh boy… uhm, you know you don’t exactly fit in… right?” In particular she eyed Dwalin and his axes. This could start a scene if someone came along. During a busy weekday, this park wasn’t very often occupied, but it wouldn’t be long before students were getting out of school. “We should go, all of you can’t be seen here, someone will… anyone could…” Shaking her head, she stood up, “I can fit you all in the back of my truck…” “And why should we follow you?” Dwalin rumbled, arms crossed. He hadn’t liked the way she eyed his weapons with such obvious distaste.

“We aren’t to cause any trouble!” Bilbo interjected, “I’m sure being seen out here wandering around like vagabonds would be trouble!” Thorin looked down at their burglar and nodded slowly, “The hobbit has a point. It seems we have found someone we must trust, just as the wizard said.” He turned, stepping in front of Piper, the others moving out of his way. “Lady Piper, we humbly beg your aid in this land, which is strange to us. We will follow your lead.”

Staring at him, her mouth moving without sound, Piper nodded, in a slow and rather disconnected sort of way. “Right…” She breathed the word out before she felt her lips quirking into a faint smile of disbelief. “Okay, right,” confidence began to fill her voice and she nodded. “Boys!” Turning, she faced the playground, “Riordan, bring your friends. It’s pizza night!”

“PIZZA!” Riordan slid down the fireman’s pole and sprinted for his mom. Except he tripped first, landing flat on his face in the wood chips. He got up, sniffling and whining as though he was about to cry. Before the tears could come, both Fili and Kili were at his side, the elder brother brushing off the bits of wood clinging to the boy. They joked and cheered him up, quietly, so as to, in their minds, let the boy retain his pride. Soon he was smiling, and Kili hoisted the boy onto his shoulders, bouncing him as they returned to the rest of their group.

Piper just smiled and shook her head at them, quite used to her son’s rough and tumble antics. “Silly half-pint.” She teased him, reaching out to poke her son’s tummy, earning a giggle. This was all so strange, it hurt her head to think about it too much. But she was quite certain she wasn’t dreaming, and they were, in fact, very real. The implications of the whole matter she could think through later, for now she had the inclination to deal with things as best she could think how. And getting them off the street, out of the open, seemed the smartest idea. It had been two years ago she had inherited a plot of property that belonged to her family, first her grandparents and then her parents, and now her, a good nine miles out from town, it was ten acres of wooded land. Her grandparents had been loggers, and her parents had helped them purchase the land to retire on, following suit when the time came. It was after her parents had passed, within months of each other, that she’d become the owner. It provided the seclusion needed for her usually reclusive personality, and now the seclusion needed by the company. The company of Thorin Oakenshield. Oh she so badly wanted to reread that book!

Grabbing up her oversized purse, which was really just an old diaper bag she used for outings now, she motioned for the group to follow her. She could hear them talking amongst themselves, parts of it she caught, them wondering if she was trustworthy, which she understood, for she would feel the same if the situation was reversed. Bless the gods it wasn’t! Thinking back on the world she had seen in the movies, she repressed a shudder. Nope, she was happy living in a world where orcs simply didn’t exist. Listening still to the talk around her, she realized parts of the conversation were in a language she didn’t know. Of course, the dwarves had their own language, everyone in Middle Earth did. She didn’t recall the name of it though, but looked back at the two speaking it. The one with the hat, Bo---Bo… Bofur! Right, and the one with an axe in his head. However did he survive!? And how was he not suffering from metal poisoning, or any other infections?! Chalking it up to dwarven immunity, she let it go. One more thought to address later.

Bofur caught Piper looking over at them and he smiled, “Ah, my cousin, Bifur, was just wondering… what’s a truck?”

The whole of the company fixed their attention on Piper, and she nearly stumbled then, not used to being the center of attention. This was why she had found a way to work from home. “U-uh… it’s well… it’s like a cart… without horses… it’s got a motor, uhm… an engine… machine thing that powers it.” There were many looks of curious interest, and she hoped they wouldn’t get too curious and take it apart when she wasn’t looking or something of that nature. Instead she pointed ahead to her pickup truck. It was her dad’s old truck, with a canopy on the back, the windows tinted. She had used it many times for short camping excursions, sleeping in the back instead of a tent. “Okay, so some ground rules, no bouncing around in it, okay? Makes steering hard.” Hauling her cousin’s pack of large dogs around for a week while her cousin was out of town had taught her that. “So, here’s the plan, since I don’t really have anything read to feed a whole herd of dwarves.”

“HERD?!” A few voices objected.

She turned over her shoulder and raised a brow, “You do look like one.” That seemed to leave a few grumbles, but even the members of the company had to relent that she was right. “Like I said, a whole herd of dwarves and one hobbit, so we’ll be picking up some food. Which means seeing people. Probably we’ll fit most of you in the back, the windows are tinted, so unless you’re right up against them, no one should notice you. People up front, let me do the talking.” “Aye, lass, that’s wise.” Balin said, quickly before anyone else could object. He knew his kin were a stubborn lot, and could be boisterous and often spoke before thinking. “We’ll do what you ask.”

And so it was that Piper Janet Morgan found herself loading up thirteen dwarves and one hobbit into her truck. Thorin, Balin, Fili and Kili sat in the cab with her, the two boys relegated to the back, on either side of Riordan’s booster seat, and the king and his advisor in the front with her. Everyone else was put in the back. Bofur and Nori carefully kept Bilbo between them, setting him on the wheel well, so that he wasn’t squished in among the rest of the dwarves. Dwalin had his back to the cab, scowling as they were shut in. Bombur had taken a little help to get up onto the tailgate, and the woman was so very glad she hadn’t taken her cousin’s advice and put a lift kit on the truck. They’d never have gotten the rotund dwarf up there!

After explaining the seat belts, Piper started the engine, and waited a second to let her little herd adjust. Then they rolled out. Fili and Kili were plastered to their windows, and as much as he tried to keep his image up, Thorin was quite the same. Balin, seated in the center, had to spread his legs to keep from being hit in the knee by the stick shift. He watched as she piloted the vehicle, asking questions now and then about it, which he was quite pleased to find she gladly answered. He was aware, at times that she was keeping it simple, and he knew he wouldn’t understand all of it she didn’t.

“Momma, can we have music?” Riordan asked, after a moment of being bored, because his two seatmates were ignoring him. Though his question got Kili to look back at them.

“No, not right now, Rio. Later okay? I wanna be able to talk to Balin.” Piper explained to him, glancing at the child-mirror she had clipped on her visor. “Why don’t you read one of your books, okay?”

“Okay…” the boy sighed, but reached into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him, pulling out a book about horses.

It wasn’t long until Fili had leaned in to look at it with him, it was mostly pictures, but a few simple words. He could recognize the type as being what he knew as Westron, but it was so uniform, he wondered how it had been written so neatly. As he listened to the boy reading, struggling with a few words, he smiled and quietly helped the lad. “Gallop.”

“The horse can… gallop.” Riordan repeated, and looked up with a grin, then went to the next page. “The horse can jump!”

The ride to the sole Pizza Hut in town went this way, Balin asking questions, Thorin studying the world around them, Kili looking at all the buildings with awe, and Fili reading a child’s book with Riordan, and the rest of the company bouncing around in the back.

“You’ll never fit in wearing those clothes though…” Piper mused to Balin as they pulled out of the parking lot. He and Thorin had been charged with holding the stacks of pizza boxes, which everyone agreed smelled delicious, since they wouldn’t fit in the backseat with the boys. Balin had quickly surmised that left in the back with the others, there would be none left when they got to Piper’s place.

“We have no other clothing, I’m afraid.” Balin shook his head. “We’ll just have to make do.”

“Mmm, no.” Piper shook her head, “We can get some clothes to fit you. There’s a thrift shop in town that sells second hand clothes, and if nothing there fits, then I know a good store to get decent priced stuff.”

“We have only a little coin ourselves yet.” Balin said with some uncertainty. “I doubt we could afford to buy ourselves new wardrobe just yet.”

Piper shook her head again, turning them down a different street. “Wouldn’t matter, our currency isn’t the same. Don’t worry, I have plenty enough for some new clothes for you guys. I do actually earn quite a bit myself.”

“What is it you do?” Thorin was the one to speak up then, having been listening to the conversation.

“I’m… well, I… see there’s uh…” Piper fumbled, trying to figure out how to explain what it was to be a programmer. “Okay so, we have a lot of uhm, technology, very advanced machines that run on… data, uh, information and it’s all written up in a certain language that these computers, the machines, can understand. It’s really complex, in a way, and… well I write that, and fix errors in it.” She frowned, knowing she wasn’t doing very good at this. “It’s a necessity, everything runs on code now, so it’s a good paying job.”

“It must be hard to explain, we have nothing of the like.” Balin said with a reassuring smile. He was also sneaking one of the pizza boxes open, having found the side that admitted such, and he peered at the food. “What is this again?” He asked, half to give her something easier to talk about, and half because the smell of the food was overpowering his senses and his stomach was rumbling. “PIZZA!” Riordan cheered, “Pizza pizza pizza!”

“Inside voice, young man.” Piper chastised, “It’s flatbread, with sauce and cheese and toppings. Also it’s Rio’s favorite.”

“I gathered that,” The old dwarf chuckled merrily.

In the bed of the truck, everyone was sniffing and mumbling in anticipation of whatever that was the smelled so good.

“So she’s go’ a decent job, an’ she’s go’ ‘nough to feed us!” Gloin mused, “Sounds like a nice lass!”

“You’re just thinking with your stomach,” Nori said with a smug grin. “Sounds like we’re getting new clothes too.” He turned to look over at his friend with the hat, and saw a strange melancholy on his face. That was odd. But soon they had turned onto a rougher road, that wasn’t made of the strange packed rock stuff, and their attention turned to keeping themselves in their spots, and not being impaled upon their weapons.He and Bofur had their arms clasped in front of Bilbo, after the hobbit had nearly been shot off his perch.

“Slow it down, will ya!?” Barked Dwalin, as he grasped the lip of the truck bed tightly. “Crazy woman is gonna be the death of us!”

However, they were at their destination soon enough, all marveling they had traveled so far in such a short period. And they looked up at the tall house before them. It was two stories tall, and though they couldn’t see it, it had a full basement as well.

“C’mon in, and we’ll get you fed, then I can pop back for some clothes at the shop.” Piper said, getting out of her door. “Ah, Thorin, Balin, would you two be willing to go back to town with me, you can help make sure I buy the right sizes.” “Of course, lass.” Balin smiled, handing her the stack of pizzas so he could get out of the tall truck. Thorin managed to jump down without losing any of his load. And the boys were out, having figured out how to unbuckle Riordan too, following the boy to the door while his mother opened the hatch and let down the tailgate to let the others out. “Be happy to help.” “Lets have PIZZA!” Riordan squealed in delight, getting cheers from the two princes at his side.

NEXT CHAPTER

[djinmer4]

Paimë i Valaina (Silmarillion)

“Are you worried?” Elrond approached the figure at the rail, watching the rapidly nearing quay.  The other ellon turned to look at him, grey eyes calm with none of the apprehension the Peredhel had expected.

“Not anymore.  I was worried at the beginning of the trip, that the Valar might choose to do something dramatic during the journey.  But we seemed to have made it safely through the Straight Road.  Even if Manwë takes it into his head to hit the ship with a lightning bolt to drown me, we’re close enough to the shore that the rest of you can swim to safety.”  Maglor leaned back and shaded his eyes.  “I’m not seeing a company of Maiar on the docks to escort me to the  Máhanaxar so I’ll take that as a good sign.”

Indeed, when the ship docked there was only a small contingent to meet them.  Galadriel had taken it upon herself to be their spokeswoman and commented on the lack.  The head of the delegation apologized, “We were indeed warned by Uinen and other Maiar of Ulmo, but ‘The Ship bearing those who fought against Sauron will arrive soon’ doesn’t actually give a time frame for expected arrival.  Your parents, Princess, could not take leave of their duties for such a great time period to meet you here, although word will be sent to Tirion to let them prepare a celebration for your arrival.”

“That is acceptable,” piped in Elrond.  “But the ship that left prior to ours should have given word that we would be the next.”

“Indeed they did.  However, they did not know if a new ship would be built from scratch or if you would take whatever was available or if you would wait a few more years to tie up any loose ends or even what the weather conditions would be like.”

Now it was Maglor’s turn to interrupt.  “Practical enough.  But I believe you were told that not only the leaders of the Resistance would be coming but also a notorious criminal.  Were there no preparations made for that?”  The Teleri ner simply looked confused, and the Feanorian realized that he was far too young to have known who he was currently speaking to.  To make his point clear, the eldest Elf there slipped off his black leather glove and held out his hand, palm facing the other.  Even then, it took the Teler a few minutes to understand what the bright red design on his hand meant.  “Oh, uh, yes, we were informed.  Again though, we weren’t sure if the rumors that you had chosen to return was true.”  Maglor put his gloves back on and spared a bemused glance to his cousin and foster-son.  “Well, as you can see, it is.  Perhaps we might get things over with and you can escort me to Máhanaxar so that I may face the judgment of the Valar.”

Brown eyes looked away, the ner darting glances back at the Noldo.  “That won’t be necessary.  There will indeed be a trial over your actions back in the First Age, but the advocates from Tirion, Alqualondë and Tol Eressëa will need at least a month to prepare.  In the meantime, given your good behavior since then, your bond has been given to your family.  You can spend the wait in Formenos, catching up with them.”

“My family?  Surely you must be mistaken.  My mother and grandparents perhaps, but my family has been condemned unto the Void for being unable to fulfill our Oath.”

“With the exception of Maedhros, the rest of your family has returned from the Halls of Mandos.  And given that you’ve returned, I’m sure your last brother will also be released soon.”  Before any of the three Elves could comment, the Teleri delegate continued.  “I’m a bit surprised you mentioned facing the judgment of the Valar.  Surely Olorin and Aiwendil had mentioned that the Valar no longer rule Aman.”  That statement made even Galadriel jump.

“Truly?”

“The Valar have not ruled since the end of the Second Age.  Did not Curunír or any of the other Istari tell you so?”  Before they could respond, they heard Bilbo gasp behind them.  “Why Gandalf!  You look so young!”  Turning around they saw that Olorin had returned to his form of shining light.  (Trust a hobbit to describe it as looking young.)  Tired but still compassionate eyes looked over all of them.

“I think it’s time for you three to see the truth of Aman.”

The cavern was deep underground, underneath the crater of what had been the  Máhanaxar.  It was cut off from any wind or light.  Inside the gloom they could hear a thin, reedy voice, begging for news of the outside world, for someone to answer its cries.  “He once was the King of all the Valar in this world.  But when the Downfall of Numenor occurred, so too was the Ring of Judgment struck.  The Noldor eventually discovered this cavern while searching for new veins of ore.  Now he crawls alone in the dark, blind and deaf to anything around him.”

Galadriel and Elrond were struck speechless.  Only Maglor had the presence of mind to respond and even he took more than a few minutes to recover.  “How did this happen?”

Olorin shrugged, as much as any being of light could.  “The survivors are not certain but the most popular theory is that it is Eru’s punishment.  The Valar exist as custodians of Arda and as guides to the Children of Eru.  By the time of Numenor, it may have been that they had failed all their duties.”

“I can think of plenty of ways they failed the Elves but how did they fail otherwise.”

“They ruled the Firstborn but aside from the Maiar sent to help the creation of Numenor, ignored the Secondborn completely.  As for they’re other duties, they restricted themselves to Aman.”

“Some of that was fear of Melkor.  But even after he was gone, very little effort was made on their part to repair the damage from the war.”

“Exactly.  So when they called on Eru to defeat the Numenorean invasion, apparently Eru decided if they were going to be derelict in their duties, they should not have the benefits of power that went with their position.”

Eyes that still glowed with the light of the Trees contemplated the black hole in the ground.  “Surely they are not all like this.  The Telerin delegate mentioned Ulmo.”

“No.  Ulmo, Aulë, Irmo, Nienna, Estë and Vána have all been seen since then and appear to have retained their duties.  They have given up ruling the Firstborn but will offer advice if one seeks them out.”

“May we see any of the others?”

“The other Valar are scattered across Aman.  However, Yavanna is close by and we can walk to her prison within an hour.”

Not far indeed.  Yavanna was standing on the mound where the Trees had once grown.  The strike that had destroyed Máhanaxar had also caused the hills around it to cave in.  The Giver of Fruits was dressed in rags of brown and as far as she could see, nothing grew.  She did not move, staring at where her greatest creations had fallen.  “Not all of them are uncommunicative and still.  Varda and  Vairë were only struck blind-”

“Given those two, that’s punishment enough.” stated the Feanorian dryly.

“On the other hand, Nessa, Tulkas and Oromë were all encased in partially in stone.  And we’re not precisely sure about Mandos.  He still rules over the Dead in his Halls but he hasn’t left them since the end of the Second Age.”

“I’ll bet he makes no more prophecies either.”  The Vanyarin guide gave Maglor a funny look.  “You’re right about that.  How did you know?”

“It’s fairly obvious.  Eru must have quite a sense of irony or humor.   Manwë had the winds bring him news from all over the world now he knows nothing about anything.  Yavanna was in charge of growing things now all she sees is sterility and decay.  Nessa, Tulkas, they never stood still and now they can do nothing but.  Varda loved the light, all she sees is the dark.  For Mandos, he ruled over the Dead but also the living and pronounced Doom over the Firstborn.  Although I suppose he didn’t fail his duty, just tried to rule over the living Eldar and reduce their free will.  Maybe that’s why he’s still Ruler of the Dead.”

The blonde looked too much like his step-grandmother, and Maglor’s tone was more condescending than perhaps he intended.  “Tell me, did the decision to reduce themselves come before or after the end of the Second Age?”

“I-I don’t know.  Nienna, Ulmo and some of the others had long withdrawn away from Taniquetil before the Incident occurred.  But the others, Vana and Nienna were still seen.”

“Hmm, I’ll bet then, that the ones who were punished were the ones who voted to let Eru take care of the Numenorean problem.”

“I can’t confirm that.”

“I suppose even the Valar have their own secrets.” 

“Cousin.”  Maglor turned from where he was saddling a horse.  Last night it had been decided that he would await the trial in Formenos with his family.  Elrond would follow later, after meeting with his wife in Lorien.  Galadriel had not yet decided if she would go to Tirion to meet her parents but was staying longer on Tol Eressëa to take the time to make up her mind.

“Cousin,” he responded in kind.

“What you said yesterday, do you really believe the Valar deserved what happened to them?”

Glowing grey eyes looked into the same.  “Artanis, do you agree that the Valar abandoned their duties to Aman after the War of the Wrath?”

Reluctantly she nodded.  “Melkor was gone.  They could have helped us all rebuild and did not.”

“And do you agree that they also abandoned the Secondborn?”

“I’m not so sure about that.  But certainly, aside from the Gift, no aid ever came to them after the First Age.  And really, the only thing that happened before was Ulmo trying to warn Gondolin and that wasn’t even for the benefit of the Secondborn.”

“What about their treatment of Melkor?”

Here her face hardened.  “No, they were definitely in the wrong there.  It’s all well and good to say that Manwë didn’t understand evil, but even after being shown he was wrong, they took no responsibility for his actions until the War of Wrath.  Melkor was a Vala, one of them.  Instead, they abandoned the rest of us, Noldor, Secondborn, Sindar, everyone to the mercy of him and his lieutenants.”

“Then I take it the part you object to is their treatment of the Eldar?”

“Maglor, they are not like us.  They couldn’t possibly understand what they were doing was wrong.”

“Perhaps.  There have been times when I too want to believe they had good intentions and were merely misguided.  Certainly, the line between advising and guiding and actually ruling is very blurry.”  His eyes were as hard as hers.  “But even if I ignore the crimes to our family, that still leaves them guilty of three out of four charges.  And I think even one of those still shows an unforgivable breach of duty, with no signs of remorse or restitution in sight.  In my view, Eru is only handing out the just retribution those of Arda would inflict if they had the power to do so.”  He finished saddling the horse and easily mounted despite the scarred hand.

“Talk to others here, cousin.  Life is more complicated now than it was during the Years of the Trees.  But I think you will find most are satisfied with the trade-off of more responsibility in return for freedom.”

[myrkvidrs]

I continue to read in Elf Problem fandom, just not terribly fast--which pretty much describes the pace of Tolkien fandom in general. (EXCEPT LATELY, HOLY CRAP, THE FALL OF GONDOLIN IS GETTING A BOOK, THAT WAS JUST ANNOUNCED TODAY!!) But I still have a lot of feelings and there's still some absolutely gorgeous, utterly rewarding fic being written, so here HAVE SOME ELF PROBLEM FEELINGS.

TOLKIEN FIC RECS: ✦ Bridges by Bodkin, thranduil & legolas & ocs, valinor, 27.7k       Legolas and his wife's father just cannot get on. But elven life is long - and understanding will grow in time. If only they can learn to listen to each other... ✦ Boromir's Return by Osheen Nevoy, boromir & entire lotr cast & some ocs, 522k       Boromir awakens from his death and finds himself in an unexpected situation. ✦ The Dragon of Rohan by French Pony, faramir/eowyn & appearances of aragorn & gimli, 11.2k       Following the first real fight of their marriage, Faramir learns a little bit about Éowyn's past, which prompts a change in their relationship. ✦ Quenta Narquelion by bunn, feanor & maedhros & maglor & elrond & elros & feanorians & cast, 119.5k       Fëanor, dead, watches the First Age unfold and from time to time, joins in. Canon-compliant character death and a detailed account of the Eastern Front of the War of Wrath. ✦ In Courts of Living Stone by ncfan, maeglin/finduilas & eol/aredhel & melian & cast, 31.2k       Maeglin and Aredhel never flee Nan Elmoth for Gondolin. Twenty years later, Maeglin finds himself in Menegroth on a mission for his mother, seeking another road to freedom. But he is unprepared for what awaits him there. AU. ✦ Three by Geale, aragorn/legolas/arwen, nsfw, 7.3k       One is unbearable, Two is desirable, Three is completion. Legolas left Minas Tirith soon after the War to spare himself the pain but when duty calls him back, everything has changed. ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - Estel en-Aderiad by Fiondil, celeborn & galadriel & elrond & glorfindel & elladan & elrohir & legolas, 3.4k       A group of Elves journey to Mordor at the end of the Ring War to find closure and something else. ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - The Blue Wizards’ Dilemma by Fiondil, the blue wizards & ocs, 3.7k       They were sent to bring help to the tribes of Men who had rebelled from Melkor-worship in Middle-earth. They were doing well in their mission until a fateful invasion put an end to their plans. Now they had to come up with a new one. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "in sickness, in health" by Mira_Jade, beren/luthien, 1.6k (for this chapter)       It came upon her slowly, like a whisper of the wind before the rains came. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "who touches the pupil of my eye" by Mira_Jade, aule/yavanna & saruman & namo/vaire & thingol/melian & luthien & nerdanel, 1.5k (for this chapter)       Prompts: See, Hear, Touch, Sense, Smell ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "so there will be no forgetting" by Mira_Jade, bilbo & glorfindel & thorin, 3.2k       Magic, Gandalf had said when they entered the valley, but Bilbo Baggins was quite certain that the Grey Wizard was mistaken. For this had to be more than even that. ✦ Return to Aman by bunn, elrond & maglor & cast, 151.6k       A loosely associated series of stories about Elrond's return to Aman at the end of the Third Age. All these assume that Maglor son of Fëanor was one of the other unnamed Elves who accompanied Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo on the ship when they left Middle-earth. ✦ Oropher, Thranduil, Legolas by KayleeArafinwiel, thranduil & legolas & cast, 1.1k       Snippets and bits about the journey of three scions of the House of Elmo, the burdens of lordship and kingship, and the joys of fatherhood and childhood. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "made for whispers" by Mira_Jade, celeborn/galadriel, 4.6k       There were times when the knowledge of just how far away from home she was caught her by surprise. full details + recs under the cut!

✦

Bridges by Bodkin

, thranduil & legolas & ocs, valinor, 27.7k

     Legolas and his wife's father just cannot get on. But elven life is long - and understanding will grow in time. If only they can learn to listen to each other...

      I never used to think too much about reading fic with a lot of OCs, but Tolkien fandom (at least the Thranduil & Legolas parts of it) almost kind of demand it, if you want to build something for them, and I'm at the point where I hardly even notice it anymore and instead just jump right in with those authors who are really good at building up the world around them, while not losing sight of the characters that I'm really here for. So, Thranduil and Legolas and their family in the Fourth Age in Aman? Where Legolas is hurt and trapped in a cave-in with his father-in-law who doesn't really like him and they have to find common ground and a better understanding of each other, while the rest of their family searches for them? Sign me up for that! And it was like sinking into this nice, warm bath to read, it was so easy and comfortable and warm and spot on for what I wanted, that there was some satisfying Legolas whump, there was Elves being Elves, there was just really good, lovely writing and fantastic characterization (they all felt 

spot on 

to me!) and it was incredibly engaging. It was the right length for the story being told, it did a great job of balancing all that it was trying to put in there, and was just a really, really good read that got me back into wanting to read about these characters again! ✦ Boromir's Return by Osheen Nevoy, boromir & entire lotr cast & some ocs, 522k       Boromir awakens from his death and finds himself in an unexpected situation.       I do not know where to begin with this rec, because I'm not sure how to encompass everything that this fic is! When I first picked it up, it sounded like it could either be great or it could be terrible--such an unassuming title and summary, using a first person narrative, the importance of an OC in the beginning, a truly impressive length at well over 500k. All of these seem like red flags being thrown up, if you've read much fic over the years. But I thought, well, I can just read the beginning, see how it goes, it's long enough that I can read quickly and not have to worry about savoring it. So, I started to read and was nearly instantly sucked in--and maybe it wasn't until a chapter or two later that I realize it, but this fic is masterful. Every choice the author makes in this fic is one that I support--the OCs are absolutely necessary, but even more than that are wonderful, I came to care about Boromir's new friend just as much as any canon character, he was beautifully written and the friendship between them tugged at my heart something fierce. The first person narrative is actually a great choice because it allows for getting into Boromir's head in a way that a third person fic would not, it allows the fic to show so much more of his character than could have otherwise been achieved. And, holy shit, the length was pitch perfect. This fic never flagged, it never felt overly drawn out, every scene was a joy to read, everything contributed to the greater whole, the pacing was fantastic so that I kept wanting to read what was coming next, no climax felt like an ending or the aftermath a let-down. Instead, I can scarcely look back to the beginning and see how far these characters and this story came without it feeling like I started the fic another lifetime ago, in the absolute intended way that I should feel looking back on this fic.        It covers so much of the events of LOTR, but from the point of view of Boromir in Gondor, unable to return to help the rest of the Fellowship, to give new events that found the perfect balance of what happened in canon versus how things would change in this AU. The events themselves were true to the spirit of the story and the narrative, I 100% believed this fic every step of the way--and the author showed their work, making every step clear how things happened and unfolded and made it so interesting along the way. The blend of action versus the moments between the fighting, the rebuilding of Gondor and Boromir's life, all of it was incredible.        But, oh. The best thing about this fic. The characterization was magnificent, every single step was brilliant for every single character. Boromir himself is breathlessly perfect, but also the characters around him shine with such fascinating presence, from the Hobbits to the other Men to the rest of the Fellowship, everyone is seen through Boromir's eyes, how he feels about them, but also you understand that he comes with his own biases. It was incredible to read every single scene with Aragorn, how human he is in this story without making him anything less than the incredible figure of the books. It was fucking awe-inspiring how well Denethor was written, how complicated and difficult and charismatic he could be, how Boromir saw all his faults, how he was not an easy man to be around, but you also saw his strength and his motivations and what drew people to him. I never doubted why Boromir or Pippin or the rest of Gondor loved him so much.        I've been reading this fic over the past two months and it's been my comfort place, the fic I pick up when I just want to read something that totally engrosses me, the fic that just made me happy to read, even when things were difficult for the characters. I could have easily read another 500k or more of this fic, I feel a little bereft now that it's gone from my life, and it still stuns me how well used everything is, how everything is so incredibly true to the canon, and everyone is so layered and individual and fascinating. It might seem daunting or not that interesting, but it's truly one of the best fics I've read in any fandom, not just this one, and the length doesn't matter because time seemed to lose all meaning while I was reading, it just slipped by me as I was engrossed in the world this author created. Everything is done to perfection and I honestly am sad that I have no more of this author's work to read. ✦ The Dragon of Rohan by French Pony, faramir/eowyn & appearances of aragorn & gimli, 11.2k       Following the first real fight of their marriage, Faramir learns a little bit about Éowyn's past, which prompts a change in their relationship.       I enjoyed this story so very much, both for the building of Faramir and Eowyn's relationship as well as the glimpses into her past, why she feels so strongly about a certain element in her home. I love how their relationship is portrayed here, it's not perfect, but it's so good , they're still somewhat getting to know each other, but they manage to work things out and make everything even better between them, and I'm just delighted by the sense of a beginning here, how they're building their home and their marriage and their life together. The addition of Aragorn and Gimli in their respective scenes was further a delight and it made the whole thing just an absolute joy to read. ✦ Quenta Narquelion by bunn, feanor & maedhros & maglor & elrond & elros & feanorians & cast, 119.5k       Fëanor, dead, watches the First Age unfold and from time to time, joins in. Canon-compliant character death and a detailed account of the Eastern Front of the War of Wrath.       Rec #1: When I first picked up this fic, I wasn't really sure what I was going to get or where it would be going, with Feanor's spirit refusing the call to Mandos and how that would affect things and what it would all mean. What I got was a bit of an exploration of what it meant to be a bodiless spirit in Middle-Earth, but then more and more an exploration and expansion of the storyline of The Silmarillion from that point on. It's gorgeously written and pulled me in hard, it gives such detail and depth to the storyline and the events that happen, especially once the attack on the Havens happens. It's also an exploration of what the Oath does to the sons of Feanor, how they do/don't react to it, how it drives and directs them--in a way that's woven around all the other plot stuff that's happening. This is fascinating all the more because Feanor himself is watching as a spirit, one who cannot really speak with the living without danger (as the living and the dead should not speak to each other) and this gives him the breathing room to step back from his anger and really see how his actions have created this tidal wave of effects. It's beautifully done for how it doesn't excuse Feanor or his sons or their followers, it doesn't try to make villains out of the people they attacked, but still makes you understand why they do what they do and have such deep sympathy for them. You understand why Elrond and Elros love them so much. You understand why the Dwarves are such longtime friends of them. You understand why many Men are longtime friends of their as well.       This is also in a fic where there's such thought put into the magic and arts of the world, the music and spirits that linger and the words of power and how they're tied to the fate of the World and what it means to be Elves. It's a fic that has so many moments from The Silmarilion given life , like what it's like to be in that part of the world when the Valar themselves finally come to fight Morgoth and the devastation it leaves in their wake, what it's like to spend that many years fighting and fighting and constantly having to struggle to get up when you have no hope left, all of it wrapped up in really beautiful, thoughtful characterization. I wasn't sure I'd like another fic (at least not for a long while) after Return to Aman hit so many of the buttons I wanted, but this one just knocked me over and wouldn't let me get up until I'd read my way through all of what was available (and I'm recommending this now because it's regularly updated, so even as a wip, the rec will stand!) and it's one of those that makes this fandom satisfying to be in!       Rec #2: I wasn't sure what to expect when I first picked this fic up--Feanor as a spirit watching over the events to come? And what I got was one of the most satisfying pieces I've read in awhile, that it starts as a Feanor piece, but it's also just as much (and sometimes moreso) a story about giving detail and breathing life into the story of the First Age, the story of the Feanorians. It's got gorgeous worldbuilding (the use of songs and various abilities, the power in words and voice, the touching of minds, the ability to call on things, all of it is blended together with the story in a way that utterly made sense to me, it felt like Elves, especially ones from the First Age) and it's gorgeous characterization and it's gorgeous canon gap filler. It's a story that takes the frame of canon, then builds and builds on it, so that it's this really coherent narrative, both in terms of the worldbuilding and in the characters--you get why the Feanorians do what they do, your heart breaks for them as they slide more and more into evil, because they aren't evil, but they have done so many evil things that they are inseparable from it. It doesn't dismiss the terrible things they've done, it doesn't deny that they truly did evil, but also it shows why they're so beloved, why Elrond and Elros love them, why their story is worth telling. On a narrative level, it's kind to both sides and that gives the story such depth and brilliance that a flatter reading of it (one side or the other being entirely ~bad~) would never have reached.       I enjoyed the story for the structure of it, the building up of various abilities (the Elves' magical powers just fit so well into the world that I could easily take it all for canon) or the Dwarves or various other Elves (besides the Feanorians or the Peredhil), all of that is gorgeously done. But the moment I will always remember most came in the second to last or last chapter, with Feanor watching over Maedhros and Maglor at the end of all of this, that got me. It got me so hard that I sat there in public, with tears welling up in my eyes, because I was affected by these characters and their journey, the way they were written. It's a beautiful piece for the Feanorians, you can feel the affection for them as characters without losing what makes their story tragic, that they have become evil through the sheer scope of the things they've done, and yet I want so, so badly to save them, because I fell in love with them over the course of the story all over again. And it's not just me being a fan of the characters, it's truly that the writing is gorgeous, that everything the fic sets out to do, it achieves, and I wish I could articulate it better, how much I loved reading this, how good it was, how well it did everything, because it really helped me through some tough times when I needed it, just by being so good. ✦ In Courts of Living Stone by ncfan, maeglin/finduilas & eol/aredhel & melian & cast, 31.2k       Maeglin and Aredhel never flee Nan Elmoth for Gondolin. Twenty years later, Maeglin finds himself in Menegroth on a mission for his mother, seeking another road to freedom. But he is unprepared for what awaits him there. AU.       I did not know how much I needed this AU fic until I read it and had such trouble putting it down! Maeglin accompanies his father to Menegroth, a letter from his mother hidden on him to ask for help, and there he meets Finduilas and tries to find the best way to speak to Galadriel and pass her the letter without his father noticing. There's such thought and care given to the worldbuilding of Menegroth and the Elves here, what that place must have been like, what it's like for the Elves living there, what it was like for Maeglin and his limited experience. It's such a great piece for his character, it really does such a fantastic job with this poor kid who has been hidden away and is so inexperienced and so ground down, but still desperately wants to do something , even amongst his fear. It's a really lovely look at how things could have gone better for him if he'd met someone more suited to him, the dynamic with Finduilas just sparkles here, it was a relationship that I absolutely fell in love with and it had such a natural grace.       But also Menegroth as a whole! The little details of how it affected Maeglin, the stars on the ceiling, the pulsing feeling of everything, the way Melian was so otherworldly, like she was there and yet not, the way she felt alien and such a heavy pressure to her. She's like Menegroth here--there's something genuinely terrifying about her, yet also beautiful and wonderful. The way such life was breathed into Finduilas as a character, she had such a vibrancy about her that you could believe everything here was plucked straight out of canon! It's a fic that achieves everything it set out to do and, sure, I'd loved another 30k for a sequel fic, but also I was satisfied with what was here--it was fascinating and a beautiful piece to read. ✦ Three by Geale, aragorn/legolas/arwen, nsfw, 7.3k       One is unbearable, Two is desirable, Three is completion. Legolas left Minas Tirith soon after the War to spare himself the pain but when duty calls him back, everything has changed.       Every time I read Aragorn/Legolas/Arwen fic it just further cements that I really do love this trio more than any single pairing and this fic just fed further into that. It's wonderfully balanced, especially the way it starts as more Aragorn/Arwen + Aragorn/Legolas, but eventually does become a trio, because, you know, Elves. It's a blend of angst and happiness, it's aching to read at first, but such love comes through that I felt entirely warm after reading it. There's a brief bit of sex that's lovely and hot, too, but it's mostly that I believed this scenario for them that really got me. ♥ ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - Estel en-Aderiad by Fiondil, celeborn & galadriel & elrond & glorfindel & elladan & elrohir & legolas, 3.4k       A group of Elves journey to Mordor at the end of the Ring War to find closure and something else.       This wound up being one of my favorites in this fic collection, where a group of Elves journey to Mordor to see for themselves the land of their fallen foe. Once again, the balance between all that's been lost, the heart of things, and the hope found amongst the rocks and hard ground, is wonderfully done. The moments each character gets to think on what (and who) they've lost, the aches they still carry with them, but that eventually they pull through to a lightness of heart again, it's very Elven and had me eating this fic up like candy. It's nicely done as a group piece (which is not always easy!) and as an aftermath piece. ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - The Blue Wizards’ Dilemma by Fiondil, the blue wizards & ocs, 3.7k       They were sent to bring help to the tribes of Men who had rebelled from Melkor-worship in Middle-earth. They were doing well in their mission until a fateful invasion put an end to their plans. Now they had to come up with a new one.       Given how little we know of the Blue Wizards, it could be difficult to come up with an interesting story to tell about them, but given how much I've enjoyed the other fics in this collection, I was perfectly willing to give this one a shot as well. And it is interesting to see what the author did with the scraps of information we have, how much was built up in such a short time, how the focus on these singular moments in the middle of greater plot machinations tell so much and how humanized these characters (both the actual humans and the wizards both) were. Even going in knowing very little, I felt like all of this absolutely made sense to me and that's a great achievement. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "in sickness, in health" by Mira_Jade, beren/luthien, 1.6k (for this chapter)       It came upon her slowly, like a whisper of the wind before the rains came.       This was a really lovely and sweet moment with Beren and Luthien, how she gets sick for the first time after becoming mortal and how it's kind of quietly terrifying, but she embraces it in the way she always does, as well as Beren is just so kind and charming here, you can absolutely see why Luthien loves him so very much, why this life with him is so very worth living. It's a sparkling, warm-hearted piece that really captured one of those quiet moments that shows just how much deep and true love there is here. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "who touches the pupil of my eye" by Mira_Jade, aule/yavanna & saruman & namo/vaire & thingol/melian & luthien & nerdanel, 1.5k (for this chapter)       Prompts: See, Hear, Touch, Sense, Smell       This is a series of shorter ficlets connected through a themed prompt set as well as a sense of loss and difficulty, how each of these characters deal with such things. Aule's loss of Mairon, a favored pupil, Namo trying to understand the process of death in the early days, Nerdanel mourning her losses, and so on. It's a lovely set and adds these little touches of something you can really empathize with when it comes to all these characters. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "so there will be no forgetting" by Mira_Jade, bilbo & glorfindel & thorin, 3.2k       Magic, Gandalf had said when they entered the valley, but Bilbo Baggins was quite certain that the Grey Wizard was mistaken. For this had to be more than even that.       One of the most frustrating parts of Peter Jackson's movies is what they've done to the Elves, especially the Hobbit movies, even having set them from the Dwarves' point of view. This is a lovely look at Bilbo learning a bit more about the swords they carry from one who is very familiar with them and then another lovely look at Bilbo telling Elven tales, showing the depth of them to some who would like to deny it. It was a nicely cathartic read for me, as a fan of these characters and this history, but it's also a really great look at giving depth to the time Thorin's company spent in Rivendell, fitting between the scenes of the movie very nicely! ✦ Return to Aman by bunn, elrond & maglor & cast, 151.6k       A loosely associated series of stories about Elrond's return to Aman at the end of the Third Age. All these assume that Maglor son of Fëanor was one of the other unnamed Elves who accompanied Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo on the ship when they left Middle-earth.       I don't even know where I'm going to begin with this! I read this entire series over the course of about a week, the only thing that kept me from devouring it all at once is that I didn't want to run out of it too quickly--and, yet, here I am all caught up and desperately wishing I had another 80k+ to read through right now. It's a collection of stories about Elrond and Maglor journeying to Aman in the Fourth Age, about healing and humor and what comes next for the Elves, now that their time in Middle-Earth has ended and they have to actually deal with seeing a son of Feanor again, that Maglor has to deal with the Oath and what he's done and his sorrow over it. I'm interested in these things just for themselves, of course, but this fic series has been absolutely incredible at giving such sharp personality to everyone, that Finrod has such an incredible sense of humor and rolls with a joke, that Nerdanel has such common sense, that Elrond may be younger than most of the Elves here but he's Seen Some Shit as well as he has an incredible way with building bridges between people, that Bilbo and Frodo are such Hobbits and genuinely feel different from the Elves, that Nimloth has to be experienced rather than described, that Celebrian seems so delicate and yet has such strength to her, all of it is incredibly sharp and brilliant. I came to this fic for the concept and the lore, but wound up staying even more for the sheer gorgeous characterization and deftness at which this really feels like these characters' thoughts, feelings, and actions.       Which isn't to say that the lore isn't incredibly well done, too! The story feels just a little bit formal in the way the Elves speak to each other, there's just a touch of poetry in their words and actions, but in a way that's incredibly smooth and engaging to read! And the bits of worldbuilding, the way they see into each others' minds or the way their power works, that Maglor knows he could use his harp and voice as a weapon possibly even more deadly than his sword, that the Oath is a burning thing in the minds of Feanor's sons, that the time in the Halls of Mandos is not so easily described. All of this add such richness to the story being told, all of this is why I'm fascinated by the Elves! And I wish I could write a better rec for this series, I wish I could write a rec for each of the (at current) eleven stories, because they deserve it, because they utterly enraptured me and satisfied me on an emotional level. It's a story about forgivenes and where that line is, that Maglor has regretted so many things, that they weren't just monsters, they were thinking and feeling creatures as well. That he has to live with the fury that's aflame around so many Elves that he hurt, but also that he struggles with pride and his own wounds, the loss of family.       It's a story that makes the Feanorians sympathetic again, that doesn't excuse what they've done, but that holding onto grudges never heals anything. I'm incredibly on the side of the people that they hurt, but this fic got me feeling things for the Feanorians all over again, especially because it's so very clear that Maglor loves dearly and hates what happened, that it destroyed him in a way he'll likely never recover from, especially not with the strength of Elven memory. But it's still a road worth walking, coming back to life and healing. And, oh, even the one conversation between Nerdanel and Feanor here had me practically rolling over in my bed to clutch my reader to my chest for the sheer amount of feeling it gave me. It's a fic that's so beautifully written all the way through, that has such care put into it and different perspectives considered and finely written dialogue that it really, really earns the slow burn redemption that it's going for. It's an incredible story that I'm so glad I'm getting to read. ✦ Oropher, Thranduil, Legolas by KayleeArafinwiel, thranduil & legolas & cast, 1.1k       Snippets and bits about the journey of three scions of the House of Elmo, the burdens of lordship and kingship, and the joys of fatherhood and childhood.             These were very short snippets of fic that were lovely to read and I picked them up because I, too, headcanon that Oropher was from Elmo's line, though, I don't think you really have to be that familiar with The Silmarillion to enjoy this! They're shorter fics and really cute scenes, very much about the care and feeling between the Elves, just little details to fill in the world and connections between them all. It was a lovely read today! ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "made for whispers" by Mira_Jade, celeborn/galadriel, 4.6k        There were times when the knowledge of just how far away from home she was caught her by surprise.        I have definitely been on a Celeborn/Galadriel kick lately, especially takes on their early courtship days and how the reveal of the Kin-Slaying events and the tension between the Noldor and the Sindar would have affected this relationship. It's a look at such a strong character like Galadriel, who has her pride and her sorrow both, that she feels stained and cursed, that in a way she truly is, and doesn't want to spread that to this Elf she is coming to love, but also will not settle for crumbling under the weight of what she bears. The way she moves from Artanis and Nerwen to Galadriel, the way she is proud and unbreakable, the way she grieves for what they've all been through, all of it is so Galadriel. And the way these two interact with each other, the sharp connection between them, the pull that neither of them could possibly deny, the strength and elegance and grace of both of them, the sheer might of both their presences in a room, all of it is very, very nicely done and suits them so well. I can easily see this as how things might have gone!

[thethermocline]

SO. The very first thing everyone needs to know is that I have a beautiful copy of the hobbit. It is hard cover. May this good fortune come to all of you as well. #paperbackistrashback

Anyway. Onward. Let's talk about Bilbo.

He's a darling baby boy and I love him so much. 🥺 Definitely one of the characters of all time. Such salt! Such sass! I love him.

Ooh, and he lies. That's super relevant.

You're all knowledgeable folk, I'm sure you've heard already that Tolkien wrote in his retcons, in-universe, as Bilbo changing his story. The original version, where his encounter with Gollum was a lot friendlier? That was Bilbo wanted to cement his claim on the ring. It's excellent stuff, and I'm so glad he did this. So now what we have is - canonically - an unreliable narrator. If he has motive, Bilbo will alter events to suit himself.

This gives fandom a lot of freedom to do most anything we like. Wanna be canon compliant and also ship Bilbo with someone? Sure! Bilbo just left that out for whatever reason; maybe it ended badly, or tragically, or there was a scandalous class difference...you can really go wild.

It also opens the door to a lot of speculation. I know I've seen someone else talk about Bilbo downplaying his own trauma, resulting in a tonal shift once he's no longer the narrator.

... unrelated, my god, I'm so sick right now. Whew. Let's power through. I'm basically snowed in right now, what else is there to do.

So. Bilbo gets dwarf visitors, in between the events of the hobbit and lotr. I think I remember that as canon... No, yes, it definitely is. At the least there's mention near the beginning of lotr of dwarven visitors to Bag End.

And he doesn't keep his chronicle a secret. I mean, it comes up at several points in-universe. He's not hiding it. So it's entirely reasonable to think that he shows dwarves and/or they ask to see some of it.

What I'm saying here is that Bilbo might have motive to slant certain things just slightly in favor of his friends.

And I mean that...gently.

God, my head hurts. Don't be sick, kids. You can simply choose never to be unwell. Don't do germs.

So like. The shire is full of petty dramas and careful handling of family tensions. It's a place where you take heed of the intricacies of seating arrangements. Bilbo is full of sass - remember how all his going away gifts in the beginning of lotr were passive aggressive? - but he's also well-versed in keeping the peace.

He can't help himself though. There are little moments in lotr - which I love and cherish unto gems for the joy they give me - where he quietly pokes fun at Thorin for being long-winded or defends himself for being overexcited. (This last also fits in with my theory that dwarves looked at his manuscript; his friends wouldn't let him get away with leaving those embarrassing bits out, so he had to save face another way.)

Therefore. Now we come to my point.

The storytelling in Flies and Spiders reads to me as very careful. I've pointed it out before, but what we're told and what we're shown are two very different things. Bilbo defends the elves in his description of them, saying that they were Good People whose only fault was a distrust of strangers. He also repeats Gandalf's "less wise, more dangerous" line and some other things that I would guess also came from Gandalf, or perhaps Rivendell. I find that you can separate out what we are told about the wood elves and what Bilbo directly observes.

For example: Thranduil has a great cave interconnected with many smaller ones. Most of his subjects do not live there, but in huts either on the ground or in the trees. These details can, I think, be trusted because Bilbo had opportunity to see them for himself and no motive to lie about it.

Now, the story about the wood elves having wars with dwarves. Out of universe, we know that Tolkien hadn't sorted Thranduil and Thingol in his head yet, so later decided that Thorin was misidentifying the king here. And I think it's very cool that even without knowing that, you can still figure a lot of that out just from the text itself.

Like, we're told that the Elvenking has a weakness for treasure. Thorin refuses to speak to him because he assumes that Thranduil will insist on a cut of dwarven riches.

But in the book, Thranduil does not ask Thorin for gems. He asks why the dwarves are trespassing. And it's for failing to answer this question that Thorin gets locked up, and eventually the others after him.

Further, later in the story Thranduil says "long shall I tarry ere I begin a war for gold" (paraphrased). We are told that Thranduil has a weakness for gems. But we are not shown that. Hence, I think, unreliable narrator; Bilbo quite likes both the Elvenking - who names him Elf-friend! - and the dwarves. He is being Tactful. He is utilizing Plausible Deniability. I think it's quite clever, really.

Am I reading too much into it? Mayhaps. But I think the way the Hobbit handles every scene with the Elvenking is a master class in a very specific genre of unreliable narrator.

[tolkienuntangled]

Fact for Fans #2 - The Tragedy of Lord Elrond

Picture that moment on the shores of the Grey Havens. Picture Frodo, Bilbo, Galadriel, Gandalf, and Elrond standing on that White Ship, and picture them departing Middle Earth in the final minutes of the Third Age. Now I've already done a fun fact about sailing West from the perspective of Bilbo and Galadriel, and I'll certainly write one about Gandalf in the next few days, but today's fun fact is going to focus on Elrond, and I hope to try and untangle what this moment truly means from his perspective.

Now I have to be honest, in my opinion Elrond's character is a little short-changed in Peter Jackson's movies. That's not to say I don't enjoy Hugo Weaving's performance, but I feel that by the power of the butterfly effect, changing Aragorn into a more reluctant king, changed Elrond into a more stern and less sympathetic version of himself. My favourite quotation of Tolkien's, about Elrond, comes from The Hobbit, and it goes: "he was as noble and fair as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer." Now I'm not sure that Hugo Weaving's Elrond is quite as "kind as summer," in fact I can't think of any Elf in the movies who truly embodies Tolkien's idea of Elven kindness and compassion. They're all a bit too severe.

Anyway the reason I flag this up is because in Tolkien's tales, Elrond is strong, wise, and noble, but he's also warm, and loving, and kind. And these traits lie at the centre of his character. Now the reason that I think Elrond's kindness is so significant, is because it's not something we should automatically take for granted. After all, Elrond's long life is not a particularly happy one. When we think of immortals in Middle Earth we tend to think of timelessness and of preservation, but to an extent, in Elrond's case, he's defined more by the abundance of things that he loses. Yet he's also defined by what he doesn't lose. And he never loses his kindness.

So in order to fully understand this, we're going to have to go back to the very beginning of Elrond's life; right at the end of the First Age. Now Elrond and his twin brother Elros, were born to two very important characters in the Legendarium. And yet neither one of them was a particularly active parent. When Elrond was only two years old, his father Eärendil went off to sea, and Eärendil never saw either of his sons again. Only four years later, when Elrond was six, his home came under attack, and he and his brother were carried off by their attackers. And Elrond's mother Elwing threw herself into the ocean to avoid the same fate. Now technically both Eärendil and Elwing did survive this, Elwing turned into a bird and Eärendil turned into the planet Venus (no joke, things were weird back then), but neither of them ever returned to their children. And for all intents and purposes, Elrond was orphaned when he was only six years old.

Now it wasn't entirely a case of doom and gloom for young Elrond and Elros, as both twins were eventually adopted by the brother of the guys who attacked their home in the first place. But as with many of Elrond's familial relationships, this one didn't last. You see, only forty-nine years later, Elrond's adoptive father, an elf called Maglor, simply disappeared from the annals of history, and his fate remains one of the great mysteries of Tolkien's Legendarium. But we can be sure that he never saw Elrond again. And so for the second time in his relatively short life, Elrond endured the loss of a beloved family member. Which, if you think about it, must be especially traumatic for an immortal!

Anyway, after the loss of Maglor, a new Age began for Elrond. The Second Age. And this was the Age in which Elrond would truly make a name for himself as one of the key players in the fate of Middle Earth. And his twin brother Elros would do the same. But despite the fact that Elrond and Elros came into the world together, they would not leave it together.

So due to a complex web of Elves and Men making babies in Elrond's family tree, both he and Elros were given the choice to either live as Elves, or as Men. Now obviously Elrond chose to be counted as an Elf, and thus he was given an immortal life, but his brother Elros made the opposite choice. He lived as a Man. He lived a (very) long life as a Man, and he ruled as the mightiest King of Men that Arda had ever seen. But he did not live forever. In his five hundredth year of life, Elros gave up the Sceptre of the King, and he allowed himself to die.

Now Elrond certainly isn't the only Elf in the Legendarium to lose a brother. Galadriel loses all three of her brothers in the space of ten years, but they're not gone forever. Usually when an Elf dies, their soul (their fëa) departs to Valinor where it will be held, and judged, and eventually rehoused and set free; to live an afterlife in the Undying Lands. So when Galadriel sails West, she's sailing to be reunited with her brothers. But this isn't the case with Elrond and Elros. Elros chose the fate of Men. His fëa does not depart to Valinor to be rehoused like an elf's, instead it eventually departs Arda entirely. The soul of Elros simply disappears from the world, and his fate is a mystery to all. Such is the Gift of Men. And so even in death, Elrond and Elros will never be reunited. Just like Eärendil, and Maglor, and (possibly) Elwing, and of course Arwen, Elros is lost to Elrond forever.

But Elrond kept on going. He had responsibilities after all, and throughout the Second Age he became a close advisor, and even closer friend, to the Noldor's High King; Gil-galad. In fact throughout all the drama of the forging of the Rings and the first war against Sauron, Elrond became Gil-galad's "vice-regent" in Eriador, the founder of Imladris (Rivendell), and eventually, Gil-galad even bestowed upon Elrond his own Ring of Power - Vilya, the Ring of Air. But once again it did not last. Gil-glad was slain in the War of the Last Alliance, and Elrond was forced to enter the Third Age without him.

However Elrond wasn't entirely alone, and his story is not entirely tragic. You see, in the 109th year of the Third Age, Elrond finally married the love of his life. The Lady Celebrían; the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn. And Elrond and Celebrían represent one of the happiest Elven unions in the Legendarium. At least for a while. Celebrían inherited from her mother the Elessar, the Elfstone, the same stone that would eventually be given to Aragorn. And this is a beautiful detail, because the original Elessar was first given to Elrond's father by his grandmother, so it's a really lovely family heirloom. And together, in this period of peace, Elrond and Celebrían build a really lovely family.

First Celebrían gave birth to the twin hunters Elladan and Elrohir, and then 111 years later, she gave birth to Elrond's beloved daughter, Arwen Undómiel. And for the next two and a half thousand years, everything was wonderful. Well I mean, the Witch-king did his thing in Angmar, and there was a terrible plague, also Uruk-hai were invented at this time, but in Rivendell, between Elrond and Celebrían, all was good.

Until it wasn't.

So in the year 2509 of the Third Age, tragedy struck Elrond once again. In this year, Celebrían made the journey from her home in Rivendell to her parent's home in Lothlórien, (a journey she'd done many times before), but on this occasion something terrible happened.

Whilst crossing the Misty Mountains, Celebrían was waylaid and captured by orcs of the Redhorn Pass. And Celebrían suffered misery and torture at their hands, which forever changed her. She was tormented and she was poisoned by the orcs, but they did not allow her to die. Instead they kept her prisoner in their dens, and her spirit was broken.

Now from the orcs' perspective this was probably the most foolish thing they could possibly have done, because by torturing Celebrían they'd brought upon themselves the unbridled wrath of not only Elrond, but of his sons Elladan and Elrohir. And so with a magnificent fury, the twins rode up into the mountains, and we can only assume that they would have slaughtered every single orc in that Pass. And when Lord Elrond found his wife, he freed her, and he held her, and he healed her body, but he could not heal her spirit or her mind. The torment was simply too great.

The following year, Celebrían's despair of life had grown so great that she departed Middle Earth, and she sailed away, leaving her husband and her children behind her. And for Celebrían and her daughter Arwen, this would mark the final time they'd ever meet.

So let's fast forward now back to that moment on that ship at the end of the Third Age, where Elrond and the other ring-bearers prepared for their own departure. We know that this was a bittersweet moment for Elrond, after all he was not only leaving his realm of Imladris behind him, but also all three of his children. Even at the very end, Elrond had one more great loss to endure.

So as we all know, Arwen faced the same choice that Elrond and Elros faced all those years ago, and just like Elros, Arwen chose a mortal life. She was blessed with love and happiness, but she was doomed to be parted from her father forever. Just like with Elros, even in death, Elrond would never see his daughter again. Nor would he ever meet his grandson. And this is made even more poignant, because not only does Elrond lose his daughter, but he loses Aragorn, an orphan not unlike himself, who he'd adopted and raised just as Maglor adopted and raised him. And we don't know the fates of Elrond's sons, but we know that for a long while they too remained in Middle Earth, sundered from their father, and perhaps they too chose a mortal life, and they too were lost to Elrond forever.

So picture yourself in Elrond's position. Picture yourself looking back towards the East, as the White Ship sails into the West. Imagine all the things that Elrond is losing, and all the people he will never see again. But now imagine Elrond turning around and looking forward. Looking west. Imagine that bittersweet emotion as the lands of his children disappear behind him, and he faces the direction of his wife. The direction of Celebrían. For although Elrond had so much to lose by leaving Middle Earth, there was someone waiting for him on the other side. After more than five hundred years apart, in the West, Elrond would find Celebrían. And after a lifetime of losing that which he'd loved, he'd finally be reunited with that love which he'd lost.

From the perspective of a more prideful character this may seem like a sad ending, but from Elrond's perspective I don't think it is. I find that from this perspective, Elrond is an incredibly optimistic character. More so than most Elves, he'd experienced permanent loss many times over, and yet he never loses his kindness. Perhaps at the end of all things, Elrond is not defined by who he lost in Middle Earth, but by who he found again in the Undying Lands.

So, thank you all for reading. Over the course of this year’s lockdown I’ve been working on a series of Tolkien themed YouTube videos called Tolkien Untangled. So far I’ve uploaded 10 episodes explaining the beginning of the Simarillion, the Beginning of Days, and the tale of Fëanor and the Silmarils. I’ve also released four episodes about the differences between the Lord of the Rings books and movies, and I’m currently releasing a weekly series of Tolkien lore videos. So check out Tolkien Untangled on YouTube if you’d like to learn more.

Thanks again everyone. Much love and stay groovy ❤️