#i will not even attempt an elvish translation sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

commandershepardvasfuckit · 1 month ago

Text

An Arranged Marriage, part 3

M!troll x f!reader 1.7k words, still currently sfw and building up anything else

Part 1 | Part 2

It’s been a few days with your new husband and while he knows roughly nothing about humans it sure isn’t going to stop him from trying to take care you when you don’t feel well. Even if you wished he’d just leave you alone.

————

Every morning since then you woke up to Zen’jan making breakfast for the two of you, fish or other meat always with any bones removed and fruit already peeled and chopped for you. He was often gone for most of the day, leaving you to explore the city on your own or with Bira in tow. Every night when he returned he cooked dinner for you, or occasionally brought back food from a nearby tavern for the two of you.

He also had made no attempt to touch you since he washed your arms and face that first morning, which was a relief, going so far as to even make sure his hands never brushed yours when handing you things. Essentially, the two of you lead two separate lives, connected only by small talk over breakfast and dinner.

During the week you noticed new little things appearing around: snacks and treats left out for you when he left of the day, a bracelet placed on the bedside table by you, fancy soaps and lotions in the bathroom. Zen’jan never mentioned any of it, but you noticed his face light up for a brief moment when he saw you wearing the bracelet.

You woke that morning in pain, your joints aching and a familiar cramping low in your belly. Forcing yourself to your feet, you staggered to the bathroom to situate yourself and then returned to bed and yanked the blankets over your head.

“What is the matter?” you did not hear him approach, but you tugged the blanket down to see Zen’jan sitting cross legged next to the bed and watching you closely.

“Nothing” you snapped, “Just time for my period”.

Zen’jan did not say anything at first, he just watched you with his head tilted slightly, “I do not know know the translation for that, sorry”.

You often forgot human common was not his first language, or even his second or third. He spoke the troll language, orcish, the minotaur language, and human common. Most humans you knew only spoke the common, maybe an ambassador might speak some dwarven or a bit of elvish, but you had never heard of someone in your kingdom knowing four languages.

“It’s fine. I’m fine”.

“No, something is wrong. Let me help you” he insisted.

“Fine. Get me a hot water bottle and something to help with pain”.

Zen’jan practically leapt up and began digging through the cabinets, grabbing the bag of grains he often used to make breakfast and sitting next to the lit hearth before calling that he would be back as quick as possible while he bolted out the door.

Once again you were alone. Alone, and in pain. You tried to doze off, but any time you finally got comfy another wave of cramps would disturb you, making you toss and turn endlessly.

When he finally returned you heard him clinking about, mixing things from the sounds of it.

“Here” once more he was at your bedside without you ever hearing footsteps. You hated how quietly he moved.

He handed you a cup of bitter smelling, thin, white liquid that tasted even worse than it smelled. You choked it back and he handed you a second cup, this time some sort of tea.

“That will help with any pain, and the tea is just for comfort. My mom used to make it for me when I was little and did not feel well”.

“Thanks” you muttered.

“And here, should be nice and warm now” he handed you the bag of grain that had been sitting by the hearth.

The warmth of it felt good against your sore muscles, you curled around it laying on your side.

“Will you talk to me now? Tell me what is wrong?” Zen’jan asked.

“I’m fine. Thank you”.

He was close to you, much closer than he had been all week. He was sitting cross legged on the floor next to the bed, his arms folded on the edge of the bed and resting his head on them. Like this his face was very close to yours, the tips of his tusks nearly touching you.

“Don’t you have things to do?” you asked him.

“I do, but you are in pain, I am not just leaving you here alone all day. Especially since you will not tell me what is wrong”.

“I told you what’s wrong”.

“Yes, but I do not know what that means though, this is not my first language. I do not always understand everything you say”.

“Period. Monthly bleeding. Cycle. Menstrual! Whatever you want to call it! That’s all!” you barked at him.

He held your gaze, his brows knitted together still trying to follow what you said.

“You really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” you asked, exasperated.

“I am sorry, but no”.

“Troll women, they don’t bleed like once a month? No cramps? Nothing?”

“No? Is that normal for humans?”

“Yeah! Either you’re pregnant, or dealing with this once a month!”

“Oh” he said.

“So sorry if I’m in a bad mood, but I’m in pain and currently bleeding out of my vagina, so I think I’m allowed to be grumpy” You were pretty sure he still had very little idea of what you were talking about, but you were hardly in the mood to give a full biology lesson.

“What can I do to make you comfortable?” he asked.

“You’ve already done it, it’s fine. You got me something warm and pain medicine. You’ve done your acts of service, you can go now”.

“I am still staying here with you. You may as well tell me how I can help” he insisted.

You were annoyed. While you were thankful for the medicine and makeshift hot water bottle, what you really wanted was to be back at your family’s manor. Your maids taking care of you, cozy with a hot water bottle that would be swapped as needed, favorite foods and treats brought to you, medicine brought to you, just pampered while you waited it out.

“Fine, help keep me distracted while the medicine kicks in” you snapped at him.

“Can I tell you about where trolls come from then?”

“Sure”

That seemed to perk him up a bit. Once more you had no idea why you felt the need to comfort him or indulge him, but he had been looking at you so sadly and worried.

“Before there was anything else, there was the Nothingness” he began, “The potential of everything that would ever exist was there, but it needed to be made. First there was Owa, the spirit of the worlds. She created the land and seas and all the plants and she was happy for a time, but she grew lonely and cried.

“From her tears grew Oja, her sister. Oja created the animals and for a time the sisters were happy. But they grew lonely again with only having each other. The same way Owa’s tears made Oja, their tears together made the first troll, Reli. Owa and Oja loved Reli, they watched her grow and change in a way that they did not, but living and growing means dying one day.

“When Reli died their grief pulled her spirit back from the Nothingness, and no longer bound to the world she stood as their equal. She could not walk the earth with them anymore, so instead she made herself a new home, a realm within the Nothingness where a once mortal spirit could dwell.

“Owa and Oja created more trolls, who grew and multiplied, but as mortal life grew on the planet it became harder for the gods to step foot here, the planet was no longer for them.

“Now the gods watch over us from the Nothingness, sometimes visiting or appearing when they can. And Reli carries us to her realm when our time here is done. She is the Great Mother of us all, and welcomes us home”.

“So there are three troll gods then?” you asked.

“Owa, Oja, and Reli are the most powerful, but there are many more. Hundreds probably, but many are gods of little things, or gods of certain regions”.

“Huh”

“What about humans? Where did humans come from?” he asked.

“The Light created everything, it’s always existed, it will always exist. It banishes the shadows and protects from the darkness” you answered.

“And are shadows and darkness such a bad thing?”

“Yes! Of course they are! The Light is hope, healing, life, protection! Everything the shadows want to destroy! The darkness wants to destroy and consume all it can! The Light is the only thing keeping it at bay!” you snarled at him.

“I was only curious” he muttered, a bit of a wounded tone seeping into his voice, “I do not know much about human culture or beliefs, and I want to learn more about about my wife”

Wife. The word made your skin crawl a bit when he said it. It had only come up a few times, him referring to you as his wife, and while he was entirely correct it still felt uncomfortable.

“Maybe one day you would like to come with me to visit the shrines? Just to see?” he asked. “And I would like to learn more about your Light, whenever you are feeling up to it”.

You fidgeted uncomfortably at the idea. There was nothing inherently against visiting the shrines of other gods, but it still felt a bit sacrilegious to you.

Zen’jan was watching you expectantly, his head still resting on his arms, again doing a fantastic job of looking rather small for a man of his stature.

“Fine, when I’m feeling better I’ll go with you, but just for a quick look around!”

He smiled, his facial expression softening and relaxing considerably, “Thank you, I do not want to be a mystery to you, or for you to be a mystery to me” and extended out a hand to you, which you ignored.

It probably would not be the worst thing to learn a bit about trolls or your husband.

Part 4

#teratophillia #terato #monster fucker #monster lover #troll #trollxreader

129 notes · View notes

entishramblings · 1 year ago

Text

The Innocence of Brutality Pt. 7 [Legolas/F!Reader]��

A.N: hey my preciouses. so im back from my hiatus with some pain and suffering for you all. this part was very hard to write as this story is a 10th walker. lol i struggle to follow an already created plot and not get bored writing—and that’s why I gotta add some twists and funky ass kicking Rámaitë Mahtar lore heh. anywaysss...enjoy!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is Rámaitë Mahtar, a warrior spirit race, and she meets the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the Rámaitë Mahtar is not canon as I made up Rámaitë Mahtar. Also, all elvish was translated from a translator site—it may not be accurate.

Word Count: 6.5k (i know I'm sorry i am a menace)

Warnings: nudity (not sex), mentions of war, mentions of torture, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, beard abuse (sorry gimli)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD | The Innocence of Brutality Masterlist | HERE for OC format

The fellowship and the Rámaite Mahtar spent hours upon hours enduring the biting lash of the snow's frigid touch and the piercing wail of the wind. The Pass of Caradhras fought against them, hard and strong. Relentless it was; as if the mountain itself was pained by their footsteps, doing all it could to shake them off and consign them to a frozen grave. Though they soon discovered that the mountain was not alone in pursuing their downfall.

Legolas frowned, squinting past the snowflakes that landed upon his lashes. It was hard to focus on anything but navigating through the blowing blizzard, for if he wavered his calculations, he and the fellowship would surely fall to their deaths. Yet still, something tugged at his mind, begging him to recognize its warning. The elf, determined to unravel what it was, let his senses settle into the air around him, absorbing all he could. That is when he heard it—a resonant voice murmuring curses into the wintry air.

The elven prince spun on his heel—so fast that he startled the dwarf behind him. Now facing the rest of his company, he cried out his cautionary statement. “Someone is aiding the storm. There is a fell voice upon the air.”

Gandalf met his eye, and only one word passed the wizard’s slips. “Saruman.”

(Y/N) turned to Legolas. Over the wind, she yelled her question to him. “Who is this man of saru?”

However, before any method of how he could even begin to articulate such a person even entered his mind, Aragorn and Boromir tones sprung into the air. Their voices grew insistent, advocating to return the way they came, only for Gandalf to fiercely argue against it.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) addressed again, not paying mind to the serious conversation behind her. “Who is this man of saru?”

“(Y/N),” he started. However, he was interrupted by a deep murmur that reverberated through the mountain’s core. That was the only warning the fellowship received. Seconds later, heavy clumps of snow came thundering down from the slopes above them. Legolas’ unfinished words were swept away by the mountain's rampage, lost amidst the chaotic dance of falling powder.

“Get back!” was briefly heard as Aragorn pressed his body against the side of the mountain. He attempted to take Frodo and Sam with him through a failed outreached hand grasping upon nothingness.

The Rámaite Mahtar’s eyes followed the motion, her instincts kicking in.

Her wings snapped open, tearing through the fabric and leather armor that clothed her. They extended outwards, providing a canopy over the four hobbits, just as the avalanche was to bury them.

(Y/N) grit her teeth, her form shaking slightly as the pressure hit.

Silent the hobbits were, no sound leaving their normally chatty lips, as the onslaught of snow railed upon (Y/N). Only awe was present upon their expressions as those four pairs of big, worried eyes looked up at her stern face.

The Rámaite Mahtar, however, took no notice to their concern. She held steady until no further weight was forced upon her wings.

Slowly, she lifted her head up—proud and strong—and her wings following suit. She shook them off. The snow she had caught tumbled from her feathery masses. It skipped off the edge of the mountain, leaving its longtime home.

Legolas emerged from beneath the snow rather quickly. A single glimpse of (Y/N)'s outstretched wings and the visible hobbits revealed to him what she had done. Knowing they were out of harm's way, he wasted no time in digging through the snow to unearth his other companions.

As the first hand broke the surface, Legolas seized hold of it and yanked. Spluttering, up came Aragorn. The two didn't need to speak to know what else needed to be done. They instantly began to sweep away the glistening snowflakes that continued to conceal their comrades. They hoped to retrieve them—one by one—from their frozen confinement.

(Y/N), seemingly deeming the two men competent enough to handle the task, moved closer to the hobbits. She patted Frodo’s head as she looked between the four of them. “Safe, safe, yes?”

Their responses consisted of small nods and drifting gazes, their minds still in shock.

Boromir and Gandalf soon emerged, though one member of their company was still not yet found.

“Gimli! Where is Gimli?” Legolas called out desperately.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows as her gaze scanned the snowy landscape. Meanwhile, the rest of the fellowship frantically dug, their efforts driven by urgency. (Y/N) took a few steps forward, her expression determined.

Suddenly, she began stomping in various spots on the fluffy snow bed.

Her companions, including Legolas, exchanged puzzled glances, unable to comprehend her actions. However, their confusion quickly dissipated when a muffled war cry echoed from beneath her feet. Without hesitation, (Y/N) plunged her hand deep into the snow and pulled hard. Emerging from the white depths, beard first, came Gimli, hollering and gasping for air.

Sighs of relief exited many lips before the arguing between the navigators started once again.

(Y/N) looked between them, watching, observing, trying and failing to understand the gravity of the situation. Though it seemed it wasn't really up to her to have to understand. The decision got passed down to Frodo and the small hobbit picked their dwarven friend’s option: The Mines of Moria.

Therefore, they wearily trudged down the mountain, their souls burdened and their bodies fatigued. (Y/N)'s wings guarded the hobbits, shielding them from the biting winds until they finally arrived before the sealed doors of the dwarven kingdom. And there they remained, seated in patient anticipation—for hours on end.

In the stillness, only the soft murmurs of Gandalf's whispered words and hushed conversations drifted among the fellowship, creating an atmosphere of quiet suspense.

Legolas perched beside Y/N, holding her leather armor layer in one hand and a sharp knife in the other. He was carefully carving the ripped section into a smoother line, ensuring easy exposure of her wings. Given their current lifestyle, he presumed it was crucial for her to retract and unveil her deadliest weapon effortlessly. Besides, they lacked the time and resources to stop in a town again, and even if they did, they wouldn't find suitable clothing to accommodate her unique form. The Rámaite Mahtar were not supposed to exist—not in this world at this time. She was an exception. She was a phenomenon. She was a secret—one that could get them all killed.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated. “Who is this man of saru?”

The elf briefly glanced up at her as he continued to work. This was the third time he was asked this question by her, and he knew she would ask it again if it was left unanswered. She was persistent like that. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember how we told you that there were some who intended to harm us and the people of this world?”

She nodded.

“Well,” he continued. “Saruman is one of them. He is aiding and orchestrating armies for Sauron.”

“Sauron?” (Y/N) questioned.

Legolas sighed, placing the leather down as he focused on (Y/N). He knew he would have to give her all his attention for this conversation. It wasn't one that you could have so casually. “Sauron is consumed by an insatiable thirst for power. He wants to enslave its people, create an empire of pain and suffering, and burn it down to ash and bone.”

“Why?” she asked, so innocently.

“(Y/N),” he stated softly, gazing into those goddamn brilliant, concerned, (e/c) eyes of hers. “Sauron…Sauron was a servant of Morgoth.”

The Rámaite Mahtar's lips parted, releasing a hushed gasp that was woven with fear and disbelief.

Legolas watched as these emotions shattered her soul and wreaked havoc in her heart. Her brows furrowed, her lips contorted, her gaze wandered, and her eyelids fluttered. Processing. That is what she was doing—absorbing the shock and dissecting its meaning.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, reaching for her hand. “(Y/N), Morgoth will not come here. He cannot come to this plane. The Valar would never permit it.”

She shook her head, pulling away from him. “Yes, he would. For me, he would. For me, they would let him.”

“(Y/N),” he said again, desperately.

She stood, shaking her head, her voice rising slightly. “You do not understand!!!”

Legolas, sensing her distress escalating, abandoned his seat and moved to stand with her. Gently, he took both her hands in his own. “(Y/N), help me understand.” He peered down into her wild eyes, searching for an answer. “Please, help me understand. I am here. I am listening.”

She glanced down at the ground below her feet, taking in a deep breath as she tried to gather herself—to regulate her emotions, Legolas perceived.

After a moment, she looked back to him. Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “I—I did things. B–before. When I was here long ago.”

The Prince nodded his head in encouragement.

She shut her eyes and withdrew her hands from his hold, letting her arms wrap around herself in what appeared to be a self-soothing state. “T–terrible things.” (Y/N) focused her gaze back onto Legolas. “They–they wanted it empty of some of the stuff they put in it.”

“What do you mean?” he inquired softly, his confusion deepening. “What did they want empty?”

(Y/N) frowned, her expression twitching as she tried to pick out the correct word to use. “The–the world.” She paused, just for a moment. “So, we emptied it. But–but we did not understand. I did not understand. There were peoples there.” As her words flowed on, she delicately extended her hand and brushed her fingertips against his ear. He fought the urge to flinch at the contact, but he did not stop her. Knowing how sincere and vulnerable she was in that moment, he wanted her to continue her truth. He didn't desire to give her any reason at all to halt her words. “Peoples like—like you, but not like you. Different.” She furthered, her hand then slid along the curve of his elvish ear until it was nothing but a ghost. (Y/N) looked down once again. “They screamed and cried, but we did not know, so we did not stop.”

“(Y/N),” he whispered, cupping her cheek and forcing her to look at him. “It was not your fault. The Valar did not teach you. They did not teach you of right and wrong.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, a tear escaping them. “It was my fault. I was the leader.”

Legolas’ thumb gently wiped away the water that ran down her cheek. “But you did not know, my starlight. You did not know.”

A quiet sob escaped her chest as she tried to look away from him. Though he would not let her. He would not let her suffer this guilt alone. Legolas pulled her form into his own. He enveloped her in his embrace, encircling his arm around her waist, while his other hand cradled the back of her head.

Instantly, she responded to this affection. Her hands—those small, deadly hands that had annihilated so many people—grasped onto his tunic, yanking at the threads. The ethereal glow of her wings enveloped him as well, as if just her arms were not enough to hug him back. And the pressure of her body against his was firm, almost urging him to anchor himself in case he lost balance. In that moment, with her face nestled against his chest, she sought solace and refuge in his embrace.

Softly, he pressed a kiss to her head as his hand moved in slow, soothing circles on her back.

Legolas knew the rest of the fellowship was trying, and failing, not to stare, but he did not care. This—this was important. This realization. This moment. This needed to happen. It represented her growth in the most pure and genuine way.

The embrace, however, was disturbed by the sound of a gentle plop that resonated in the air like a soft melody—though one very much out of place. One after another, the droplets of sound caressed their ears, intruding upon the intimate moment they shared. However, Aragorn’s chidding tone unintentionally attempted to give it back to them as he ordered Merry and Pippin to halt their actions.

Still, (Y/N) turned to look at the rippling of the water, watching as it moved with little rifts and smooth slides. The Rámaite Mahtar tilted her head, ignoring Frodo’s voice pipping up with a question regarding the door’s riddle. It wasn't directed at her anyways. She took a step closer to the water, and another, and another—until the sound of loud stone shifting claimed her and her companion’s attention.

The group gathered their belongings, (Y/N) folding in her wings and pulling the altered leather armor upon her form, before they flowed through the now opened doors. As they listened to Gimli rave of his cousins’ hospitality, they filed in. However, hospitality did not greet them. Nothing did. There were no torches. There were no cheers. There were no dwarven faces. Simply put: not a trace of life offered them a welcome and naught but dread stirred in their presence. As darkness wrapped around them, Gandalf lit his staff. That glow began to reflect light, allowing the fellowship to bear witness to the truth.

“This–this is no mine.” Boromir began, horror upon his tone. “It’s a tomb!”

Immediately, Gimli’s loud cries of despair echoed throughout the vast walls and the hobbits’ heavy breathing followed.

“We should never have come here. We must make for the Gap of Rohan!” Boromir exclaimed.

Rash shuffling from each member of the group followed as they began scrambling from the hallway of bones. Those bones, however, were immediately replaced by a new threat—one of tentacles and slime.

Before they even could escape the tomb, Frodo was clawing at the ground, his anguished cries for help piercing the air. The other hobbits urgently grasped his arms, straining with all their might to free him from the vile creature coiling around his legs. Yet his friends were only so strong. The creature drug the poor hobbit to the lake, flinging him through the air like a mere plaything.

Instantly, the fellowship, with weapons raised, were scrambling after him.

Though, the one that was the fastest was (Y/N). Her wings extended from her form, not breaking the newly crafted adjustments to her leather. With one strong push, she was in the air and weaving through the tentacles.

“By the Valar,” Aragorn whispered.

At his tone, Legolas’ gaze flickered from his aimed arrow and to his friend’s line of sight above the beast of the lake. Immediately, the elf’s lips parted in astonishment. Even after the months that they had known the Rámaite Mahtar, they had yet to see her fly. They had seen those beautiful wings act as blades, blankets, and canopies, but they hadn't seen them act for their intended purpose. They hadn't seen them serve as instruments of the wind. Legolas could not help but let his bow falter as he stared.

“She’s….she’s beautiful,” Legolas whispered.

Aragorn, his own shock subsiding, grabbed the elf’s arm and hissed a panicked order at him. “Legolas, cast aside your admiration and put an end to that vile beast!”

“Right, right,” he mumbled, drawing his arrow once again.

Aragorn ran into the water, slicing at the tentacles in desperate hope to free Frodo—and prevent his own capture.

(Y/N) maintained a relentless attack from above, using her wings as weapons to sever the slimy limbs impeding her path towards Frodo. With remarkable speed and precision, each stroke of her wings propelled her closer to the young hobbit, the distance shrinking inch by inch. However, just as she was closing in, the beast sent two tentacles her way. She spun quickly, her wings slicing them both, but it was the third to the back that she did not anticipate. It smacked against her shoulder blades, hard. Her body was launched backwards as if she was nothing but a gnat being batted away. The blow held such vigorous force that she crashed into the side of the mountain and tumbled with broken rock. Everything crumbled until she too joined the dust upon the ground.

Legolas, with fearful eyes, screamed her name. She did not answer.

The Prince continued firing arrow after arrow as he moved backwards towards the broken Rámaite Mahtar. Each forceful strike diverted the creature's attention. This distraction allowed Aragorn to slice the tentacle constricting Frodo, while Boromir swiftly caught him.

“Go, go, go!” Aragorn yelled, pushing Boromir and Frodo back onto the land. “Into the mines!”

The group darted through the entrance, Legolas scooping (Y/N) up into his arms as he did so.

The lake’s guardian tried to pursue them, its battered limbs slamming against the rugged mountain surface. However, in doing so, the squid-like creature lost its meal. In its desperate attempt to give chase, the fellowship’s fate was sealed. The attack caused the rocks to tremble and shudder. So much so, that the entrance to the passage crumbled and collapsed—entombing the alive with the dead.

Thick dust now drifted through the air, melding with the sounds of adrenalized breath and pounding hearts. They stood still as Gandalf lit his staff once more.

“We have now but one choice,” the wizard started as he began walking deeper into the mine. “We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world.”

“Mithrandir, wait.” Legolas called out, almost desperately.

All eyes shifted, only to be surprised to see the Rámaite Mahtar cradled in his arms. Before, she had appeared to be invincible. From the first day they encountered her, when she lifted the strongest member of the fellowship by the throat and nearly killed him, they had thought she was unstoppable. This belief was further reinforced as they witnessed her relentless prowess in battle. She ruthlessly obliterated a pack of orcs like it was nothing. She had annihilated them with sheer force that made even the elves look weak. A glimmer of possibility was instilled in them. Maybe their quest was not destined to fail after all? She was their hope. And now? Now that hope was a slumped, unmoving, bleeding form.

“(Y/N)?” Pippin whispered, his voice so quiet, so small.

“Is–is she alive?” Merry added, his tone mirroring his closest friend’s.

Legolas did not answer them as he gently laid her body onto the ground, kneeling next to her. With frantic lips murmuring a prayer in Sindarin, he reached to hold her face. Almost instantly, the Prince’s shaking hands were painted in her red blood. He tried to not focus on it as his nimble fingers found her carotid artery. He couldn't afford to think that she could be dead. Not now. Not ever.

The air was quiet and full of anxiety as they awaited his words—ones that would either break or heal their hearts.

“She’s alive.”

Sighs of relief left many’s lips, though Legolas did not hear one exit the wizard’s.

“I must treat her wounds.”

Gandalf huffed. “We cannot linger here.”

“Mithrandir!” Legolas called out, appalled. “She cannot be left to bleed—”

“Legolas, îdh, listo. (Legolas, calm, please.)” Aragorn stated, raising his hand. He then turned to the wizard. “Gandalf, Legolas is right. Without medical attention she could die. I understand you do not trust her yet, but she has saved our lives many times over. We need her.” He paused, nodding to the hobbits. “They need her.”

He huffed but dipped his head in agreement. He couldn't argue with that logic. “Ten minutes.”

Legolas was quick to pull his medical bag from his shoulder and began digging for supplies.

“Legolas, man tur- im ceri? (Legolas, what can I do?)” Aragorn stated as he knelt beside him.

The Prince passed him a small pouch as well as a mortar and pestle. “Mol hi into a sirith ir im heneb hen. (Grind this into a paste while I examine her.)”

Aragorn nodded, beginning the assigned task.

Legolas lifted her head, feeling the back of it, before speaking in the common tongue for the others to understand. “Swelling, but no blood from this blow. Seems it just knocked her out.” He twisted her face to see the bleeding cut above her brow. “This cut is pretty deep. I will need to stitch it so the skin mends properly.”

“Despite her ability to heal quickly? Cuts like this usually are gone within a day or so for her, correct?”

“Yes, but the flow is heavy and with the risk of infection—especially with all the grime in here…..” Legolas let his sentence trail off.

“Master elf,” Samwise interrupted softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

The Prince looked up at him. A gentle smile crossed his face for he knew of (Y/N)’s relationship with the hobbits. He knew how much she cared for them and they her. “Sam, if you could get Gandalf’s staff, maybe provide us with some better light?”

The hobbit nodded and quickly scurried off. Legolas could hear the soft conversation between the grumpy wizard and the innocent hobbit, though he was too focused on (Y/N) to pay attention. Regardless, Gandalf must have given in, for the hobbit returned seconds later with the light.

“Sam, hold it over here. I must check her wings.”

The light cascaded brightly above them, its luminosity filtering across the brilliant wings. The feathers absorbed and reflected those subtle colors, shining them back upon the three men. If the scene wasn't encased in blood and emotional turmoil, it would have been a radiant spectacle. But now, the once alluring silk-like texture bore the marks of horror—marks none would want to see freely.

“There does not appear to be any significant damage. Most of the blood is from the head wound or superficial cuts.” Legolas stated. “It looks worse than it really is.”

“But–but then why isn't she waking up?” Pippin inquired with unease.

Legolas did not answer, for he didn't have a reason to give the hobbit. Instead, he returned to the wound upon her brow. “Pass me that needle and threat.”

Soon enough, the Rámaite Mahtar’s cut was sealed and the blood upon her face was wiped clean. If they had not known of the events that had transpired, maybe she would have looked like she was sleeping peacefully. That, however, much to their dismay, was not the case.

Boromir, seeing (Y/N)'s treatment completed, spoke again. “We can take shifts carrying her.”

Legolas clenched his jaw, refusing to look at the Gondorian, as he gathered the winged warrior into his arms. “When her wings are exposed, it adds at least a hundred pounds to her weight. Without elven strength, you wouldn’t be able to carry her for long.”

Boromir scoffed lightly and sent a look at the elf.

Legolas wanted to snap back with another snarky reply, but he knew it would do no good. Hell, his previous comment was uncalled for—and he knew it. Boromir was a good, honorable man at heart. Legolas knew he would never do anything to harm (Y/N). The Gondorian respected her—as a woman, warrior, and friend. Besides, at this point, it was quite apparent that the Prince and Rámaite Mahtar’s souls were bound. So, Legolas kept his mouth shut as he pushed past Boromir and towards the front of the group.

Aragorn walked up beside the Gondorian. He gently patted the man’s shoulder. “Don’t take it personally. Elves tend to get quite possessive over their lovers, especially under dire circumstances.” The Ranger then chuckled. “Not one of their finer traits.”

Boromir snorted lightly in amusement, now not taking Legolas’ behavior to heart. “Indeed,” was his simple reply.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they continued their journey along the paths of the old dwarven corridors. The fellowship found themselves halted at a crossroads, a convergence of three diverging paths, where Gandalf stood at the forefront, evaluating which direction to proceed with.

Legolas settled himself on the ground, leaning his back against the cool stone surface. Keeping (Y/N) in his lap, he gently adjusted her position, allowing her head to rest upon his chest and shoulder, her face nestled against the curve of his neck. Finding a moment of reprieve, he let out a soft sigh and pressed his head against the wall behind him, shutting his eyes. With a soothing touch, he traced gentle strokes along the Rámaite Mahtar's cheek, passing the time with rest.

It felt like only minutes, even though he knew it was hours, when Gandalf called for them to follow. Legolas begrudgingly stood with (Y/N) in his arms.

“Legolas,” Aragorn’s voice softly sounded beside him. “Let me take her.”

The elf turned to face his friend. “It’s alright. I’ve got her.”

The Ranger shook his head. “You must keep some strength if we are to make it through this mine. Exhaustion will do you no good. I will watch over her, even if it’s just for a little while.”

Legolas exhaled slowly but dipped his head in agreement. He knew Aragorn was right. As an elf, he had senses that would allow him to slay twice as many servants of darkness. If they were to come across any enemies, they would need him—especially with their strongest weapon now unconscious. Therefore, he passed (Y/N) to Aragorn.

The Ranger was careful as he took her into his arms, her wings hanging limp around him and brushing upon the dusty floor. “Valar—“ he mumbled. “You weren’t kidding about her weight.”

Legolas smirked lightly. “If she is too heavy, I can take her back.”

The Ranger grunted. “No, no. I’m fine.”

The elf raised his brows but followed the others.

Legolas kept an eye on Aragorn and (Y/N) as they moved. Though it wasn't out of distrust or jealousy, it was out of concern. He could sense, as the minutes passed and as the terrain roughened, the Ranger began to tire. However, it seemed he was not the only one who could tell.

Boromir approached Aragorn. “You look like you could use a break. I will carry her.”

Aragorn let out a low—and slightly strained—laugh. “Are you certain? Legolas wasn’t mistaken about her weight.”

The Gondorian bobbed his head. “I hardly believe she is that much to bear.”

“Suit yourself,” the Ranger replied as he passed the winged warrior to the other man.

“By the Creator….” Boromir immediately gruffed out.

Now it was Aragorn’s turn to tease. “I warned you.”

“That you did,” the Gondorian grunted. He then nodded ahead. “We don’t want to get left behind. Let’s keep moving.”

However, it wasn’t long before Boromir approached Legolas. “I won’t ever doubt the strength of you and your people again,” he expressed, accompanied by a warm smile. “Are you able to carry your girl again?”

Legolas nodded, guilt flickering in his heart for his previous rude demeanor towards the man. “Yes. Thank you, Boromir. I appreciate your help.”

The Gondorian nodded in understanding before he passed (Y/N) back towards the elf.

…..

As the days passed, (Y/N) still hadn’t woken, which proved to be worrisome. The wound upon her forehead had healed, leaving only a light scar that Legolas knew would disappear in a couple days. The swelling upon the back of her head vanished as well, providing even more confusion to her still unconscious state. She would stir here and there, but never did those curious, (e/c) eyes open. If she had survived a fall from the Valar’s incarceration, why was she remaining unconscious from a strike of the lake’s beast?

Still, they could not wait on her to wake. They had to push further. So, the fellowship continued to pass through Moria in secret, observing the dwarven wonders as they did so. However, it was ignorant to hope that that secrecy would last—and as soon as the corpse of an old dwarf tumbled down that well, they knew they were discovered.

It all happened so fast.

Legolas barely had time to place (Y/N)’s form down against Balin’s tomb before the doors were splintering, revealing orc faces dripping with evil desire.

However, at the first clank of a sword, there came at least one good act.

A large gasp, loud and alarm-filled, struck the air. The Rámaite Mahtar jolted upright. In an instant, her wings snapped back to life, shedding their previously limp state, and surged outward with lethal swiftness. As they unfurled, they decapitated three nearby orcs.

Legolas could only manage to call out her name in relief before he too was consumed by the battle.

With (Y/N) ripping the vile creatures into pieces, even faster than the elf, the fellowship had thought they had a chance. Well, that was until one sentence left the Gondorian’s lips.

“They have a fucking cave troll.”

From then on, it was a blur. Each member of the group was fighting for their lives—including the hobbits. Though all their hearts stopped when Frodo called out in pain and crumbled to the ground. Shrieks of fear left every member’s lips as Aragorn desperately rushed to his body. Those heartaching cries, however, quieted when Frodo’s small voice sang out clearly. “It’s alright. I’m not hurt.”

Then they were running again, and again, and again.

The immense chamber teemed with a horde of orcs, swarming across every surface—the ground, walls, and ceiling. So much so, that the members of the quest were encircled by them, barely having room to breathe. A sort of stalemate settled in, both sides waiting for the other to make the first move.

(Y/N)’s wings twitched as she rotated, readying herself.

Though a fight did not come—not from the thousands of revolting beings.

Badum, badum, badum.

Each member of the fellowship spun and turned at that sound.

Badum, badum, badum.

The orcs faltered and swiveled their heads.

Badum, badum, badum.

Panic then erupted. The grotesque creatures scrambled to flee. They shoved and pushed one and other as their gangly forms scurried away—back to the hellhole that they came from.

Badum, badum, badum.

“What is this new devilry?” Boromir whispered.

Badum, badum, badum.

Gandalf sucked in a deep breath. “A balrog of Morgoth.”

(Y/N)’s heart froze.

“A demon of the ancient world,” Gandalf continued. “This foe is beyond any of you. RUN!”

It was here that the fellowship mimicked the goblins—though with more care for one another. They took off down the vast hallway as they made for the Bridge of Khazad Dum. Their legs moved quicker than they ever would have thought possible—stopping only when there was a gap in a path above the fiery abyss.

Legolas was the first to leap across, his nimble form making it appear easy. Gandalf was the next to make the jump. Merry and Pippin were to follow with Boromir; however, they were halted as arrows shot at their feet—just nearly missing.

(Y/N) whipped her head around, just in time to see another projectile whizzing straight towards Boromir.

The Rámaite Mahtar was quick to lift her wing in front of him. The fine tip pierced her instantly, causing a deep grunt of pain to exit her lips. The arrow went through the feathery flesh, but halted as it got stuck in tight muscle—only inches away from Boromir’s forehead.

The Gondorian’s wide eyes shifted to her—in thanks, in shock, in guilt.

Legolas quickly turned and fired his bow, taking out the archer.

“Go!” (Y/N) shouted as she lowered her wing.

With that, Boromir grabbed Merry and Pippin and leaped onto the other side. His feet landed just before the section they had previously stood on collapsed.

(Y/N) was next. She lifted her wings slightly, despite the pain, to give herself more of a drift. As she landed she shuffled close to Merry and Pippin and ripped the arrow from her wing with a groan.

As Legolas caught Sam and then Gimli—by the beard—another arrow whizzed past the hobbits’ head.

Once again, the Rámaite Mahtar shielded them—earning two more arrows in the wing.

By the time Frodo and Aragorn finagled their way across the ever growing gap, the Balrog was upon them.

The fellowship were fleeing as fast as they possibly could. A few brave souls dared to steal a glance behind, their hearts pounding in their chests. Among them was Frodo, and as his eyes locked onto the fiery menace descending upon Gandalf, a cry of terror escaped his lips. The collective gaze of the group shifted at that, now drawn to the scene unfolding before them. They then bore witness.

The wizard stood strong. His deep voice, full of power and protection, echoed through the cavern. “You cannot pass.”

The Balrog attacked. Gandalf defended.

“I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow!”

Once again, the Balrog attacked. Gandalf defended.

The wizard brought his sword and staff crashing down upon the bridge, a resounding boom echoing through the air. His voice then thundered, filled with unwavering determination. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Those words seemed to reverberate through the chamber, carrying the weight of his command across the stone. In that moment, he stood as a barrier, defying the very force that sought to destroy them and their mission.

The bridge began to crumble. Piece by piece, the stone began to fall, taking the Balrog with it.

Gandalf inhaled deeply.

It was done.

The whip, however, lashed out one final time. With a swift motion, it coiled around the wizard's ankle, forcefully pulling him off his feet. In a fleeting moment, he was airborne, his body suspended before gravity claimed its prize. Gandalf’s hands flailed, desperately reaching out for anything to anchor him to the bridge's edge. His fingers found the stone and his nails dug in. Though, he knew he had no chance. He wished only to leave a message for the one who looked up to him the most.

Frodo cried out once again, lunging for his mentor and friend.

Boromir, however, wrapped a strong arm around him and held him back.

The little hobbit, sobbing, held eye contact with the wizard.

“Fly you fools,” Gandalf whispered.

Then, he too, was gone.

Frodo screamed, his cry intertwining with that of his fellow hobbits, creating a symphony of despair that echoed through the burning darkness.

However, they weren’t the only ones to have a profound reaction.

Surprisingly, (Y/N) rushed forward. She sprinted down the bridge, her legs carrying her fast, but she wasn’t fast enough. Legolas anticipated what she was going to do. He saw how her strides stretched wide and how her wings extended. She was gonna jump. Reacting swiftly, he took off after her. His paces were wider and his speed was quick. Just as she was about to push herself into the air, Legolas grabbed onto her waist and yanked her backward. The unstable bridge trembled under the sudden motion, threatening to give way, but the elf maintained his balance and steadied the winged woman in his grasp.

“LEGOLAS!” she snapped in fierce anger. Her threatening gaze—one that he had only seen directed towards enemies—poured into him, almost incinerating his soul.

“IT’S TOO LATE!” He barked back, ignoring the startlement that just flushed his veins and choosing to focus on the bridge crumbling beneath their feet. “RUN!”

With that he tugged her in the opposite direction, following the remaining members of the fellowship.

When they burst from the mines, their souls shattered like fragile glass. The hobbits collapsed upon the stony ground, their tears flowing freely, their sorrow reverberating through their chests. Agonized grimaces etched themselves onto the faces of Gimli and Boromir. Aragorn tried his best to conceal his pain, though his grey eyes betrayed him with hidden turmoil. And Legolas? He stood motionless, disbelief written across his face.

(Y/N), however, snapped him out of it. She pushed her palms against his chest, hard. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

He twisted to look at her. “What?”

“Why did you stop me?!” The Rámaite Mahtar quipped back aggressively. She grasped onto the two arrows still embedded in her wing. She yanked them out. “I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!”

Legolas shook his head, his tone calm and full of despair. “No, (Y/N). No, you could not.”

Her hands ran through her hair, frantically and angrily, the strands tangled and pulled on as she sought release from the overwhelming emotions rippling through her blood. A frustrated scream escaped her lips—a raw manifestation of these turbulent feelings surging. With a sudden burst, she spun back around, facing him with eyes ablaze. “I have killed one of those–those balrogs!” She took an enraged step towards him. “My legion and I bleed one dry of its fire! And you—”

Legolas interrupted her, his tone now picking up. “And I stopped you from killing yourself! You and your legion—”

“Legolas!—”

He grabbed onto her shoulders as his next words raced across the stones, silencing the area from all but tears. “YOUR LEGION ISN'T HERE!”

The wind skipped through the leaves of the trees, uneasy at the elf’s sudden tone. It blew gently upon the despairing people, begging to kiss their skin with some kind of hope, but only succeeding in tearing their hearts further. Still, it continued its melancholic dance. Seemingly carrying the weight of their shattered souls with its whispering of sorrowful melodies.

Nature itself mourned alongside (Y/N) as she stared, bewildered, at Legolas.

The Prince closed his eyes and lowered his head. He inhaled deeply, regretting his tone. After a moment, now returned to his normal steady and calm temperament, he gazed into her eyes and spoke again. “(Y/N), your legion is not here and they will remain absent. They were not present to help you defeat this Balrog and they will not come to help you fight others. They are imprisoned, beyond your reach. They won't escape as you did—not now, not after you have. The chains will have been fortified and the gates sealed with blood. You are the sole Rámaite Mahtar that will ever step on these lands.” He paused, his tone now a whisper. “You are alone.”

(Y/N)’s expression distorted. Her brows crinkled, her lips quivered, her eyes watered, and her form shook. Emotions whipped through her blood, boiling and freezing in the pain of realization and acceptance. She supposed a part of her had thought that her race would eventually return with her—join her in learning this plane. Though now that that secret hope was exposed and disproven, there was nothing else to be said. The truth stood liberated from the web of self-created falsehoods that had previously concealed it.

“(Y/N),” Legolas whispered, realizing the dream he had just shattered.

And that was all it took.

A loud sob escaped her throat and tears pooled down her face. She flung her form into his arms and cried.

She cried and she cried—as loudly as the hobbits.

And Legolas held her. He rocked her back and forth as he smoothed her hair, desperately trying to keep her safe from the pain, though he knew it was too late. He pressed a kiss to her head as he whispered into her ear. “Though you may be alone among your kind, I will forever be by your side.”

…..

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @brun-lieve @idiotic-canadian @hey-its-nonny @angelxnaa @bisexualdragongirl @mirclealignr @edensgarnden @elizabeth-anya-knight @sydney-1209 @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @awarwithinitself @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @redbirdbluebird333-blog @angelgracesworldofchaos @desert-fern @hellsitegivemeafreeusername @galadaelin @glorfindelofgondolin @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @skairipakomtrikru

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @brethil13 @insert-random-blog-name-here @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back @mylittle-escapingdreams @moriamithril @abandoncloud9 @bweakmybonez @aphroditesmoon @carojasmin2204 @phoenix666stuff

The Innocence of Brutality: @byshaunajoy @carojasmin2204 @therealscarletpumpernickel @noodlenerd101

if your tag is not hot/clickable bad you want to remain on the taglist, please message me. Next time I will be removing the ones that don’t work :)

ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST(S)

#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas/reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf x reader #Legolas greenleaf/reader #legolas fic #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #legolas one shot #LOTR fic #LOTR fanfic #LOTR fanfiction #10TH walker #10TH walker fic

315 notes · View notes

weheirsofdurin · 11 months ago

Text

Beloved Glorfindel 6 @lordofthegoldenflower

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

Fili shouldn’t be here. He should have gone back to the mountain, to see a healer, but after the battle he just wanted to check his elven friend. Yes he liked her a lot but they hadn’t chatted enough for him to properly begin courtship. Exhausted, bloodied, and covered in entrails he never should have step foot in the camp. Shouldn’t have snuck his way to her tent. And most definitely shouldn’t have gone in.

“Lass? Are ye awake?” Fili whispered, he knew she wouldn’t be. Knew that it was late. Elves didn’t sleep like normal beings after all. But she was asleep and from what he saw would probably prefer not to be. Reaching out he gave her a firm shake in an attempt to wake her along with a sharp, “lass! Wake up!”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

The shadows were following him, flames beginning to grow, narrowing the path he was running until he was completely cut off with no where to go. The flames had just reached his feet when he was pulled back to consciousness, the nightmare clinging to his mind enough that he instinctively cursed in his mother tongue before rousing enough to realize Fili was the one with him.

"Lord Fili," he managed to stammer out, pushing himself weakly to a seated position. He ran a shaking hand through his hair just to have something to do. "I...Sorry. Thank you for waking me."

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

“Ye seemed… distraught. Would ye like to talk about it?” Shifting to be behind Glorfindel he worked one handed to fix the braid, the most it had been messed up was from Glorfindel just now running fingers through it.

“What must ye even apologize for? I barged into yer tent while ye rested and disturbed ye. If anything I should be apologizing.”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

Glorfindel couldn't help stiffening when he felt the touch to his hair, but forced himself to relax again by reminding himself it was just Fili. The dwarf was not here to hurt him.

"I am afraid I did not use very complimentary language when I woke. Just because you didn't understand it doesn't mean it wasn't rude," he said, heart rate slowly returning to normal. "It was...It was the shadows of memory. I have lived a very long time and have seen many, many terrible things."

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

Fili chuckled as he finished but did not move from behind the elf. “My lady, I am a dwarf. Complimentary language is nay my first. Tis only used now because I am attempting to woo ye. Or upon diplomacy I must at least try before calling the //mule dungs as such as they should as orc whores.// There, I was nay complimentary either so we be even now.”

Thinking quietly he nodded as he came to a conclusion. “How is yer arm? Tis been two days since yer arrival, do ye think ye can write? If so can ye write me a list of elvish words and their translation so I may learn yer language?”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

Glorfindel couldn't help but chuckle a little at Fili's reaction to his apology. The dwarf had effectively lightened the dark mood that had lingered in his mind and for that he was truly grateful.

"You are in luck, for I am able to write with either hand. A skill learned after breaking my dominate arm a few times in youthful misadventures," he said with a small smile, amused yet not volunteering the details. "I would be willing to begin teaching you elvish, but which would you like to learn? There is my mother language which I rarely hear upon these shores, or the one most speak."

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

“Both would be beneficial. The one most spoken for being able to speak with other as it is a widely spoken language, but to ken your mother tongue would mean most to me. I am a fast learner so would be fine to work on both languages.” Fili knew he wasn’t the smartest, but he learned well what was taught. He could speak his language, common, and just a bit of the deep dwarvish as he’d been taught to respect those dwarves too. He was good with diplomacy, knew all he needed to work a forge, and he excelled in his martial skills. But he was never the brightest flame, if one knew what that meant. He was oft likened to a box of rocks because he could be utterly oblivious.

“It would honor me most to ken your language as ye are whom I want to chose as //my arkenstone.//”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

"I don't even have to understand the last of what you said to know you have quite the silver tongue, Lord Fili," Glorfindel said with a bit of a blush. The whole idea that the dwarf was willing to learn a language for him was enough to give him butterflies. He knew he would have to confess the truth soon, but would that mean he would lose the dwarfism attentions as well? The question was sobering. "I do not have any paper with me, but I am more than willing to teach you. Perhaps hearing you speak the language of my childhood will help soothe the homesickness I feel at times. I do not wish to return for many reasons, but I miss many friends and the sprawling forests as well as the glittering streets of that distant land."

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

“Aye, then give me a few words as I’ll not remember all if ye give too many. I can remember a sentence best as ‘t will be in two languages.”

Fili Shifted in the bed from his kneeling position to sit, back to back, with the elf. There was a grunt that shouldn’t have been but he played it off. “Aye, twas a silver tongued thing to say for sure. But nay a bad thing. Tis … something ta learn later. After ye accept my attempts at courtship.”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

Glorfindel held his arm against his side carefully as he leaned back against the solid warmth of Fili. "My heart yearns to accept, but there is much you deserve to know before we enter a courtship," he said softly before taking a slow, deep breath.

"How about we start with a greeting then? It sounds very formal when translated, but it really is said often. {A star shines upon the hour of our meeting.}"

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

“{A shines star upon hour of the meeting}.” his repetitive of the statement sounded slurred and butchered as he mid spoke and almost grounded out the language. It was obvious he was speaking more with the back of his throat rather than the musical lilt of elvish. “That was wrong. Can ye repeat it for me?” “I … okay. //I do nay care though what ye have yet to say. Just that ye would stand by my side. If I must wait a lifetime just to court ye though I will.//”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

"It was not the worst first attempt that I have heard. It was even better than some of the elves I have taught," Glorfindel confessed with a smile. He would not laugh, but he was truly happy this was something Fili wanted to do. He had the feeling that whatever the dwarf had said, it was something significant, but he would allowthe privacy the use of his native language would provide. "Think of the words as living at the front of your tongue, that will help. {A star shines upon the hour of our meeting}.”

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

Living at the front of the tongue, he wasn’t sure what that meant exactly but he had a feeling it was akin to speaking with the tip. While dwarvish was very gargled and common was the fell array, elvish made sense to be used at the tip. He repeated it and it was a far better attempt but there would always be a very gargled sound to it, like someone gargling rocks, as that was his accent. One that he would never know was there or be able to correct it. “Feels better but still sounds wrong compared to yers.” He admitted and his weight was suddenly heavier on the elf’s back as he fell silent.

It was a few moments only but he gasped and came back to reality. “Forgive me, I should go.”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

"That sounded much better. Usually it takes more than two tries to get that close," Glorfindel confessed as he just enjoyed the moment they were sharing. It was nice to just be there in the moment without extra worries.

His heart fell when Fili said he should go, but he thought he understood. Moving slowly so Fili would feel that his support would be moving, he shifted until he could look at the dwarf, suddenly seeing the remnants of battle on his clothing. "My lord! Are you injured? What happened?"

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

“Aye, an orc arrow pierced me. I am nay looking forward to its removal. Tis burried to the bone. I had hoped - and am glad as I was right - that a conversation with ye would give me the strength to deal with it. Now as they cut I will be able to think of yer sentence and focus on that and nay what they are doing.” Still sitting there he had to find it in him to actually get up as he felt exhausted as it all set in.

“Kili waits by the fire for me, he will be helping me to the healers so ye need not worry about that.” Tiredly he stood and his legs felt aflame as the exhaustion settled in. “I may e’en be tired enough that I rest through the cutting.” (edited)

lordofthegoldenflower

—

"And you think to leave me here waiting to hear word of how you fared with the healers? Orome's sweet ass! I refuse to sit here and worry," Glorfindel said seriously, shifting to get to his feet. He would forget his boots for now.

"Either you let me help you to the healers or let my healer see to you right here. Those are your choices." (edited)

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

“Yer healer may see me. I would prefer to avoid Dorglia for the moment until I figure out how to deal with her.” Reaching down for his pack which he’d dropped he paused, eyes spying fairly dainty toes - at least compared to his own - then he looked up. “Are ye really going to make me stay here standing until ye find shoes? I will nay make my lass walk barefooted to take me to the healers.”

lordofthegoldenflower

— "If you're seeing my healer, you aren't walking anywhere. Also, what is wrong with being barefoot? I prefer it actually," Glorfindel said honestly before moving to the door of his tent. He switched to Sindarin to call to the elf on watch to wake their healer, Fili needed tending.

Then he returned to Fili's side. "You relax now. We will get you seen to momentarily."

WeHeirsOfDurin

—

“Tis naught wrong, but the ground around the mountain has much that can bite. Snakes and shards of swords are about in the area-

“Ye should call for my brother too if ye are making calls. He will nay be pleased to be left waiting and nay aware of what is the going ons. And ye are mistaken also about my healers. I more meant ye ended up at the Lyon Caves when ye wanted to be far north of the luhn and while I trust ye… I do nay ken if ye can find the way to lead me to the healers.”

lordofthegoldenflower

—

"You say that as if I have never seen a snake in my life," Glorfindel teased lightly before huffing. "That is probably fair. Though I don't know if I trust you on your feet right now. Please, let us return your kindness by treating you this evening. Then Lord Kili can help us get you to your own healers."

He went back to the door to call softly for Kili, waiting for him to get to the tent to offer him a tight smile. "Forgive me, lord. Your brother is feeling the effects of the fight. Hebron is going to see to treating him until he is in a bit better state."

He then took a step back to allow his healer into the tent. He was several inches shorter than Glorfindel with dark hair and eyes. They were dressed similarly, though his jerkin featured a motif of leaves instead of golden flowers. His eyes were sharp and he knelt down by Fili with a placid look on his face. "I hear you have been injured."

#lordofthegoldenflower #beloved glorfindel

0 notes

tolkien-feels · 3 years ago

Note

Random fun fact: in many versions, most of the Valar are not officially married or at least they had no ceremony. The wedding of Tulkas and Nessa during The Springtime before the lamps were destroyed was the first m wedding.

I think that the Valar do not feel romantic or sexual attraction in the way that humans or even elves do. Their original forms have no body and therefore no sex (like physical sex the noun not the verb).

Their marriages differ in meaning from what might be described as a mutually beneficial working partnership to a more traditional bond of love and companionship to something else entirely

The marriages before Tulkas and Nessa are certainly bondings of some sort but I think calling them marriages is the intentional application of a human or elven lens to relationships. The Valar permit this with gentle confusion because they desire to be comprehensible to The Children, at least in some ways

I also think that not all emotions or forms of attraction are shared between all of the Ainur. And there are phenomena they experience that are similarly foreign to The Children.

That being said the Maiar do usually feel an intense loyalty to their Patron Vala. This isn’t universal but it’s one of the more common emotional experiences.

Of course this is just my interpretation! I think it does draw from canon information but it’s still largely my reading.

-@outofangband

@outofangband Sorry it took me forever to post this, but I wanted to share my own thoughts and my brain didn't feel like letting me

I agree so much with this. Things such as gender, marriage, siblinghood... for me these are things the Valar "translate" into shapes the Children can understand, much like they take elvish-looking physical forms, and much like they describe the Ainulindale in terms of sounding like harps and lutes and other instruments. It's a concession to limited understanding, not an accurate representation of truth.

There seem to be commonalities between spouses, siblings and Valar-Maiar relationships, which makes me headcanon the Ainur are attempting to describe specific bonds when they use these relationships.

This is informed by my utter confusion when allo people try to explain sexual attraction to me. I'm ace and biromantic, so I understand easily enough the difference between platonic and romantic attraction, but when someone tries to explain sexual attraction I'm just like "HOW is finding someone hot different from aesthetic appreciation??? It literally sounds like you're making up feelings that don't exist. It's the shrimp colors of human experience, wtf" and my brain explodes.

That's more or less how I feel this works for the Ainur. The Ainur feel drawn to each other in specific ways, but because the Children don't experience these kinds of attraction, they try to find analogies.

An easy example is Valar-Maiar relationships. I feel like Maiar just naturally experience devotion towards the Valar they serve. They are under no oath to serve, and they couldn't even necessarily word what it is that is inspiring devotion in them, but they feel it. The Valar in return want to guide these Maiar specifically for some reason (bonus! Incorporate rejected canon and have the Valar say their Maiar feel like they're their children!) But elves don't normally look at each other and feel the urge to serve nor the urge to rule (in a non corrupted way, at least), so the Valar go "Hm... They serve us? We are lords and they are our servants?" not because it's the same thing (serving is who Maiar are, not what they do, it's a very different thing from even the best of elvish servants), but because there's no real way of explaining what the experience really is like.

Even things that seem pretty straightforward, like Manwe and Ulmo's friendship, strike me as being just translations. It seems like they feel a great affinity that they don't feel towards the other Valar (who are also what elves would conceptualize as being their friends!), but it's not the affinity of "marriage" or of "brotherhood" so they settle for "close friends" even though that's not really what it is. It's more like... Their role in the Music is neither a matter of complementing one another (marriage) nor of developing the same theme together (siblinghood), but their melodies are in great harmony. But that's just me disliking elvish translation and coming up with my own, which is probably just as inaccurate.

#ainur break my brain tbh

65 notes · View notes

disgruntled-welshgirl · 2 years ago

Note

A couple of things.

As far as I know, I have little to no Welsh blood, but I am quite interested in linguistics, especially the Celtic languages of the Gaelic and Brittonic families. Welsh is, in particular, a very beautiful language, which I understand informed the languages of Middle-Earth, as well as countless other fantasy language systems. I am also a huge fan of the Welsh side of Celtic mythology, as well as the Welsh side of Arthurian stories. All of this is to ask: Would I be appropriating Welsh culture by attempting to learn the language? I understand that it is one of the less-spoken languages in the world, and since it is an older language, and not one I plan to use for day-to-day business, I worry that by learning it I would be intruding.

If it is okay for me to learn this language, what would be the best way to go about it? Should I use books, Duolingo (ew), Croeso, or another source completely? Do you know of any difficult pitfalls in this language? Is grammatical gender more or less difficult in Welsh than in, say, French? How are conjugations? Is it a very dialectic language? Are there any alternate writing systems to prevent the need for double letters and make it truly phonetic/phonemic, a la Shavian?

I am really sorry for writing such a dense ask, but language learning is one of my passions, and this language seems really, REALLY cool.

Okay so that's a lot and I'll do my best to work through it in a way that's at all satisfactory. My qualifications for this are a decade of Welsh language schooling so I'm not the best but you could do worse. First off yes, Welsh was the inspiration for chiefly elvish and Tolkien called it "the senior language of Britain" and I like him find it very beautiful. Alright then, next point!

It would in no way be cultural appropriation to learn to speak Welsh, and by doing so you would not be intruding in any way shape or form. If anything I'd call it appreciation to learn a language especially a minority language such as Welsh. Even if you don't plan to use it day to day knowing it is the best thing you could possibly do in relation to the language. Next!

I'm not sure entirely what you mean when you ask where you could learn the language but I would recommend geiriadur yr academi or Glosbe if you want to translate specific words and word hippo if you want to do longer strings. Word hippo also has a pronunciation feature so that may prove useful. The best way to learn how to speak Welsh is learning the alphabet, Welsh is entirely phonetically consistent so if you learn the alphabet you will be able to pronounce every single word competently and in a way that people will understand. This playlist would be incredibly useful in learning the letter sounds. Onwards!

The biggest pitfall is absolutely mutations, there's a number of letters than mutate in at most three ways depending on a number of factors. The best thing I can recommend to help with mutations is to commit this chart to memory:

(radical here just means the original letter) So for example, the mutations of Pen (head) would be Ben, Mhen, and Phen. Next you should learn these rules

So, taking those examples from earlier we can see that the mutations would occur as follows (remember these are just one example);

Dy ben

Fy mhen

Tri phen

I would also recommend you look into this yourself to make sure you understand it because it is a surety that whatever you find will go more in depth than I have. Let's press on!

Grammatical is a complete and total Trainwreck with no rhyme or reason behind it. You will have to look up what each object is gendered as on a case by case basis. Alternatively, you could just not care. I can't honestly say I've ever met a Welsh speaker who cares about grammatical gender so I think you'll be fine if you don't. We're nearing the end to let's endeavour to get there!

Conjugation is simple once you get it but it can be daunting when you're starting, but trust me, it gets easier with practice. I would highly recommend this Wikipedia article which explains conjugation better than I ever could. All you'll really need to worry about on there is the colloquial section so I'd focus on that if I were you. Penultimate point!

Welsh has two primary dialects, north and south. The differences are small and they're not going to hinder communication much so you should be fine. This video showcases dialects pretty well. And now for your final point!

As far as I'm aware there are no alternative systems for writing Welsh. The double letters, while confusing to people unfamiliar with them, are actually fairly simple when you realise that they are a completely separate sound to the singular letters. D and Dd make completely different sounds, same F and Ff, G and Ng, P and Ph and all the rest. The third video in that playlist I linked earlier focuses on these so turn your eyes there if you've any questions.

And that is everything. Thank you ever so much for this ask and for showing interest in the language. It's nice to see people show interest in it from farther afield than I'd expect.

#wales #welsh #cymru #cymraeg #languages #linguistics

4 notes · View notes

bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 4 years ago

Text

Friends

OH MY GOSH DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT’S BEEN SINCE I WROTE FOR FILI?!!??! TOO LONG. I enjoyed every second of his Fee-Fluff. Although, I actually kept trying to put ‘Kili’ instead of ‘Fili’... I think I need to write for Fili more or Kili is trying to tell me something Also, I was SO SO SO tempted to use one of Arwen’s lines in here... But I didn’t. You’ll know the scene when you come to it though... ;)

Fluff about friend-zoning and Fili working up the nerve to tell a special lass he likes her.

Tags: @elvish-sky @kumqu4t @ladylouoflothlorien

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Loka

Word Count: 2,177

Translation(s): Surprisingly, none

Warning(s): None. Just fluff!

~~~~

"It's time to end this, once and for all." Kili declared suddenly as he sat next to me in the library; head propped up on his palms. I glanced up sharply from the thick tome I was currently pouring over.

"What?" I asked, not sure if I had heard him right.

"I said, it's time to end this once and for all. I'm sick of watching you pine after Fili." He repeated, adding some clarification to his words.

I let out a sigh, grabbing the ribbon I was using as a bookmark and placing it in the book to mark my spot. Something told me I wouldn't be returning to it for awhile. "What are you even talking about, Kili? I don't pine after Fili." I said, and Kili smirked.

"Uh huh. I've counted you watching him 178 different times in the past three days. Explain that." He said, prompting a faint blush to appear on my cheeks.

And I thought I hadn't been that obvious... Hmm, perhaps it was time to be a bit more--

"That's what I thought." Kili's confidence-loaded voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up to see him grinning knowingly at me. "You fancy him, don't you?"

I gave Kili a confused look, trying to buy myself time. "Fancy who?"

Kili threw up his hands in a show of exasperation. "Fili. My brother. The one who's always watching you." He said in much too loud of a voice, and I motioned at him to be quiet. I didn't need this to be the new rumor circling Erebor.

Mahal, how embarrassing would that be?

But his words puzzled me; the way that they implied that Fili---no, surely not. It was too good to be true.

Footsteps sounded behind me, interrupting my musings, and Kili winked at me, grinning mischievously. "Who fancies who?" A deep, gentle voice asked behind me as broad hands came down to rest upon my shoulders.

Speak of the devil...

"I was just talking to Loka here about a lad from the Iron Mountains. She thought he was quite fetching." Kili piped up suddenly, and I shot him a glare. The nerve of him...

Fili's hands tightened on my shoulders, and I fidgeted a bit in discomfort. "Hey, be careful about squeezing me too hard. I'm not iron." I muttered, and Fili's hands disappeared in an instant as he came around to stand beside me.

"Sorry, Loka." He said, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Those beautiful blue eyes of his had a faraway gaze.

Kili kicked my shin underneath the table, and I turned to him with a stifled yelp of pain. "What the hell was that for?" I hissed, glaring furiously at the insolent Prince.

You were staring again. He mouthed with a cheeky look on his face. I just gave him a disgusted look and turned my gaze back down to the book I had so reluctantly vacated.

"If you'll excuse me, I've got some things to take care of." I said, breaking the silence that had fallen over us as soon as Fili approached.

Before either of them could protest, I gathered up my stuff from the library table and hurried out of Erebor's royal library. Maybe I could finally finish the tales of Númenor in the comfort of my own room?

~~~~

"Loka!" A sharp cry of my name had me halting in my tracks as I walked through the halls of Erebor. Turning around, I was surprised to see Fili jogging towards me; decked out in full royal garb.

"Prince Fili?" I asked, fidgeting with the bundle of fabric in my arms. A grimace flashed across Fili's face at my use of his title.

"How many times have I told you that you don't need to call me by that...?" He groaned, and I gave him an apologetic smile.

"Obviously not enough times; but I kinda have to call you by that since you are the Crown Prince after all." I said, but Fili just shook his head.

"Forget etiquette for once, Loka." He said, giving me a pleading look that awoke butterflies in my stomach.

Nodding, I smiled at him. "If that's what you command... But anyways, why did you stop me?" I asked curiously, and Fili shuffled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his rapidly reddening neck as he turned his gaze to the floor.

"Uh..." He was suddenly at a loss for words, and I watched this with a incredulous look. Never before had I seen Fili look so... nervous.

"Fee?" I called softly, using Fili's childhood nickname.

"Would you like to go to the ball with me?" He suddenly said; words rushing out in a jumbled hurry that left me speechless for a moment as I processed them.

"The ball that's happening in about four days?" I asked, and Fili nodded quickly.

"Aye, that one. Would you like to go with me?"

Disappointment welled in my stomach as I looked at the hopeful expression on his bearded features. "I would love to--" I began, and Fili's face broke out in a wide smile.

"Tha-that's great!" He said excitedly, but I raised a hand to stop him.

"You didn't let me finish. I would love to go with you, but I'm already going with someone." I said, and the smile was wiped off Fili's face, only to be replaced with a furrowed look that didn't belong anywhere on his handsome features. "I'm so sorry, Fili." I whispered, but Fili was quick to shake his head.

"No, no, I should be sorry for bothering you. It's no big deal Loka, I just thought... Who are you going with?" He asked, quickly switching topics.

An image of a dark-haired Dwarrow--the exact opposite of Fili in so many different ways--popped into my head. "Maglorian. One of Dain's ambassadors." I said quietly, forcing a bright smile onto my face.

Fili nodded, a dark shadow passing over his face at the mention of the name. "I've heard of him; he's very nice." He said, giving me a smile that was so obviously fake it hurt. "Well, save a dance for me maybe?"

I nodded quickly, trying to find a way to lift this black cloud that had suddenly settled over Fili. "Of course! I'll always have a dance for you, Fee." I said softly, and a smile flickered across his lips.

"See you around, Loka." He murmured, turning and walking past me down the hallway. I watched him go, noting the way his shoulders were slumped in a picture of disappointment. But why? Surely he hadn't wanted to go that badly with me? Hadn't his question just been a friend asking a friend so they didn't have to go alone?

Shaking my head, I continued on my way to the Palace seamstress. My dress needed some alterations to fit the current styles of King Thorin's court, and I hadn't had time before now to deliver it to her.

~~~~

The day of the ball had finally arrived, but something just seemed wrong. Maglorian was very polite and nice, but not even his gracious manners could bring a genuine smile to my face.

I tried--I really did--to keep my attention on him, but I couldn't help sneaking glances towards the dour Fili. Mahal, I'd never seen him look so hurt before.

"Miss Loka, would you like something to drink?" Maglorian's cultured tones had me looking away from where Fili stood beside Kili and Thorin; watching the festivities.

Forcing a smile, I nodded sweetly. "That sounds lovely, thank you Maglorian." I said, and he smiled back, heading away from me towards the refreshments.

Breathing out a sigh, I returned my gaze towards the trio of royals, only to notice that one was missing.

Kili.

Glancing around the crowded ballroom, I tried to spot the dark-haired Prince in case he attempted to pull a prank on me or something. I wouldn't put it past him.

"Fancy a dance, my lady?" A cheeky voice said from right beside me, and I whirled around to find Kili standing in front of me.

Rolling my eyes, I accepted his proffered hand. "I suppose, if only to get away from the ambassador and his manners for a moment." I said, prompting a laugh from Kili.

"He's that bad, huh? I thought you said he was handsome."

"He's handsome in his own way, but he just oozes 'proper etiquette'. It's enough to make any lass sick." I grumbled, placing on hand on Kili's shoulder as he settled a hand on my waist. The music had turned to a slower waltz that was perfect for talking.

Kili chuckled, grinning down at me. "Perfect."

His words had me looking up at him in bewilderment as he suddenly spun me away from him and into someone else's arms. For a moment, I thought it was Maglorian and I went to pull away.

"I thought you said you'd save me a dance? Did you change your mind?" A familiar voice asked teasingly, and I realized Fili was the one with an arm around my waist.

Blushing, I looked up at Fili with a sheepish smile on my face. "I thought you were Maglorian... You are welcome to as many dances as you wish to claim." I said, quickly adjusting my grip so that one hand was held in Fili's while the other rested on his broad shoulder.

Fili raised an eyebrow. "So you don't like that ambassador then?" He asked quietly, and I shook my head.

"Of course not... He's just a nice guy that I thought would be fun to go to the ball with." I said, understanding suddenly dawning on me. "Wait, you thought that me and him were serious or something?"

Pink began to tinge Fili's cheeks, and he looked away from me. "Well..."

"You're jealous of him! Are you afraid he'd steal your friend away from you?" I teased, laughing at the thought even as my heart sank.

Friends, always friends. But I'd have to content myself with that. He'd never see me as something more.

"No." Fili's voice was uncharacteristically hard and I scanned his face worriedly. "I wasn't afraid that he'd steal my friend...." He trailed off and let out a sigh, raising his head to look around at the other dancers around us. "I--just come outside with me for a moment. I'll explain." He said suddenly, dropping his hand from my waist to lead me towards the doors out to the hallway.

I followed obligingly, wondering what he was going to explain. What did he even have to explain?

Once we were finally alone out in the deserted hallway, Fili grabbed my hands and looked down at me with a searching expression in his crystal blue eyes. "I don't know why it's so hard to say... I've never been so afraid of something before..." He muttered, and I looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"Fee?" I prodded, and he took a deep breath, ducking his head for a moment before looking back up at me. "I was jealous of that Dwarrow, yeah, but not for the reasons you think." He whispered, and my eyes widened slightly.

Was he going to say what I thought he was going to say?

"I thought that he was going to steal away the heart of the lass who stole mine." He said quietly, looking at me with such a vulnerable expression in his eyes, it brought tears to mine. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, Loka, I'll get over it eventually." He muttered as I stared at him in disbelief.

"No!" I exclaimed, and Fili watched me apprehensively. "Don't get over me, please. I love you." I whispered hoarsely, and Fili scanned my face closely, looking for any hint of a lie.

"Loka..." He murmured in a low voice, raising trembling hands to gently cup my face, "I feel like I'm dreaming."

I smiled at him, closing the space between us until I was held close between his arms. "Then we're sharing the same dream." I whispered, tilting my head upwards as he leaned down to slant his lips over mine; his golden locks falling like a curtain over both our faces.

"Oh Mahal, finally! I thought I'd have to lock you two in a closet somewhere!"

Fili reluctantly pulled away from me with a sigh, turning his head to look at a grinning Kili leaning against a pillar nearby. "Do you mind?" He said with a raised eyebrow, and Kili raised his hands in a show of surrender.

"Sorry... Just keep in mind that Uncle is going to be looking for you soon, so don't get too cozy together..." He said, winking suggestively.

"Kili..." Fili growled, but a red flush was spreading up his neck. "Don't make me--"

"I'm going! I'm going!"

With that, Kili disappeared back into the festivities, leaving me and Fili alone once more.

Looking back down at me, Fili gave me a roguish smile. "Now, where were we...?"

#fili #the hobbit #line of durin #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst #jealousy #fili x oc #dwarves #kili #royal ball #erebor #friends #just friends #fili friday

80 notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years ago

Note

Do you think the Numenoreans are sympathetic in their resentment of the Gift of Men?

I’m really sorry this has taken so long - I wrote about three-quarters of it really quickly, and then sat on it for a few weeks because I wasn’t sure how to organize all my different thoughts.

I would say my answer is both “No” and “Yes”.

I have little or no sympathy for what Númenor becomes. Even well before they start listening to Sauron, they turn themselves into a deliberate empire, colonizing and exploiting the rest of the world. They do this despite the fact that every single person in Númenor has everything they materially need - the empire is for the purposes of pride and prestige alone. They have everything, an earthly paradise without sickness or want, and they’re diverting themselves by exacting tribute from people who have far less than they do. And it’s all the worse because everything that the Númenoreans do have - everything that they’re using to wage war on the world - is a freely-given gift from the Valar and the Eldar.

And then it becomes infinitely worse under Ar-Phârazon, where they turn to human sacrifice and worshipping Morgoth. They’re not acting in ignorance - they know exactly who and what Sauron is, and they know exactly who and what Melkor is, and they’re making a choice. The attempt to conquer Valinor is patently idiotic as well as evil. And again, they are attacking the people who are directly responsible for the very existence of Númenor and all of the good things they have had.

It’s the reason why I’m inclined to laugh at comments about Elves being bigger screw-ups than Men. The great rebellion of the Elves was associated with the desire to leave Valinor and fight Morgoth - their means and attitudes were wrong, but they were at least, broadly speaking, on the right side. The great rebellion of Men is the choice to invade Valinor in service to Morgoth - they have deliberately chosen the side of evil. The screw-ups of Men are infinitely worse than the screw-ups of Elves. (Name a 600-year period of human history that contained only 3-4 battles [not wars, battles]. I’ll wait. And that’s the worst the Elves ever get.)

Númenor fully earns its end.

But in the earlier days of Númenor, I have some sympathy with their unahappiness about the Gift of Men. The creation of Númenor in the first place, though understandable and entirely well-meaning, is arguably the same mistake as the initial invitation of the Elves to Valinor - it separates them from Middle-earth and from their kindred, and tries to protect them from the world rather than to help them to live in it, to share its problems and sufferings and work to heal and improve it. (Ulmo knows this - it’s why he takes no part in the creation of Númenor).

And moreover, all of the ways the Númenoreans differ from other Men are ways that make them more like Elves. They live in an island paradise to the West; they have greater strength and skill; they do not get sick; they live much longer than other Men; they even speak Elven languages. So if being more Elvish is a reward, it is very easy for the one way in which they are still Mannish - mortality - to appear as a curse.

And this strange liminal position they’re in, as Elf-like Men, plays a role in their later corruption. @thearrogantemu had some excellent commentary on this that gave me a better sense of elements that play into the Fall of Númenor:

Poor Númenor; they were set up for such spectacular metaphysical failure. We’re going to set you within sight of the bliss and immortality you can never reach, but that’s okay, because what you have is of equal value though different nature! You will become the foremost of the powers in Middle-earth, but you will definitely know where to draw the line, right?

They’re given the power that later enables them to become an Empire, but not the power that would give them the one last thing they really want, the last thing that, it seems, would make them as good as their friends in Eressëa. And their power and safety and bliss at the same time separates them from the Men of Middle-earth in a way that prevents them from being able to genuinely sympathize with them or interact with them as fellows and equals.

And on top of this, there’s a certain failure to communicate, and perhaps a failure of imagination, on the part of the deathless when they speak of the Gift of Men. The Lay of Leithian, speaking of Lúthien’s fate, says that “being immortal she shared in [Beren’s] mortality, and being free recieved his chain, and her anguish was greater than any other of the Eldalië has known”. So when death happens to mortals it’s not something that should bother them, but when it happens to an elf it’s a great tragedy? (Though the word Leithian translates as “release from bondage” which is the opposite idea - leaving the Circles of the World as freedom - so I gather that there are a variety of different perspectives among the Elves regarding Lúthien’s death.) And Arwen also recgonizes the hardship of death when she faces it: “I say to you, King of the Númenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to recieve.” So when the Elves tell the Númenorians not to be troubled about death, there’s a certain amount of well-intentioned Elfsplaining going on; they are speaking about something they neither know nor experience, and the few times that they do experience it - either as something that affects them or their loved ones - they don’t like it.

I think a better case for why Men cannot be immortal in the way that Elves are immortal is to imagine what it would be like in the hypothetical situation where Men did become immortal, if they did become like Elves, but retained the personalities and desires of Men. They would, ultimately, have one of two fates: to live in Middle-earth and ultimately to fade to a spirit, unable to influence or interact with the world; or to depart permanently to Valinor. In either case, they would be desperately unhappy.

Living in Valinor as immortals, Men would be bored out of their minds and deeply restless. It would be the same situation as Fëanor except many times worse. (I’ve written before about how Fëanor is the most Mannish of elves.) Elves, for the most part, desire stability and the preservation of things as they are; Men thrive on change and stimulus. And Elves, for the most part, do not get tired of things that they like, whereas Men do: as Andreth says, “We find that [the Eldar] do not understand the saying that goes among Men: Too often seen is seen no longer. And they wonder much that in the tongues of Men the same word may mean both ‘long-known’ and ‘stale’.” Change and ambition are at the heart of the nature of Men - to live in an unchanging world that has no need or outlet for their ambition would in the end become a torment. Likewise, to remain in Middle-earth and to fade, and have no way to interact with the world, to be only an observer for the rest of eternity, would be a misery to them.

The Gift of Men, though distorted and turned to suffering by the Fall, is still something fundamentally in tune with their nature - Arda is not their permanent home. They must always explore, always go beyond what they know.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #Númenor #elves #edain #mortality

168 notes · View notes

timeforelfnonsense · 4 years ago

Text

The Bargain

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M

Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

I want to add a TW up here: The first half of this fic depicts Astarion having a panic attack/being in fight or flight. The portrayal was informed by my own struggles with BPD and panic attacks. I think it's important to remember our responses to trauma are often flawed and imperfect. It was very cathartic for me to write tbh. I'm very proud of this one and I think a lot of Dafni's character really shines through! This one has a good bit of canon d&d lore mixed with some homebrew/folklore about the fey (WotC pls feed me more feywilds canon I am DESPERATE for it!). Elvish Translations (via candle keep): arael’sha: Heart-friend (used in contexts like beloved or my heart) The stars shining right through your eyes: A common elvish idiom referring to one's youth or naiveté.

A gust of wind blew through the putrid bog carrying the damp, acrid smell of rotten vegetation and sulfuric swamp water. The gray, splintered walls of the tea house groaned, the top half of the gnarled structure swaying. It was shocking the poor construction of the ramshackle hovel hadn’t killed the hag for them. Astarion had made his way to the small alcove hung above the crumbling foyer hoping to find his paramour. He felt his heart sink when he was met with nothing but the witch's clutter. Astarion rocked on his heels. There was something deeply wrong with this place, even with Ethel dead. Oppressive energy hung on the stale air. Filling the whole space with an undoubted misery that left him feeling raw and exposed.

Deep down you like being leashed, don't ya?

Gale and Wyll had begun to make themselves at home below him. He observed them as they languidly poked about, looking for anything of the hag’s that would be of use. Wyll had already summoned a raven to send back to camp, a note attached to its foot informing the others that they wouldn’t make it back for the evening. The old bat had not given up without a fight and they’d been left battered and exhausted. Astarion winced, his arm brushing against the wall.

He was bleeding. Fantastic.

He had been too preoccupied with the feelings this place drew out of him to notice the long gash running down the top of his forearm. Ethel had tried to drag him to the gaping chasm at the center of her abode when the fight was no longer in her favor. He had struggled and thrashed against her but she only dug her twisted claws in deeper. She’d nearly succeeded in pitching him over when a fatal arrow from Dafni’s longbow sunk into her eye with a wet squelch, exiting the back of her skull.

He already felt like shit from being tossed about by a hag and that discomfort was only compounded by the growing need for a drink. The scorch of thirst started to lick at the back of his throat. He must have been bleeding into his sleeve for some time. His body was eager to replace what was lost.

Is there still rat stuck in your teeth? Slave!

Perhaps Dafni would allow him a little nibble. Just the thought of the sweet strawberry wine in her veins eased some of the discomforts. Astarion pressed his back against a hideous wardrobe, sliding down until his backside hit the ground. He had made a point of exercising restraint when it came to drinking from her. He never wanted her to be under the impression she was only a meal to him. But he was famished and she was his favorite treat.

You're one thirsty night away from betraying everyone!

Or maybe not...

There had to be something else edible nearby. He took in a deep breath only to be met with the nauseating scent of an overripe corpse. He coughed and sputtered, forcing the repugnant smell from his lungs. Any thirst he might have had was chased off by the gut-twisting aroma. It seemed he wouldn’t be taking a breath for the rest of the night. While his undead nature freed him from the necessity of breathing he’d always been partial to it. The feeling of his chest moving up and down had served as a steadfast reminder he wasn’t truly dead despite all he had endured at Cazador’s hand.

Vampire? Ha! You’re nothing but a ravenous cadaver, spawn!

“You bastard! You ruined it- You ruined everything!” Mayrina squawked.

“Are you daft! I helped you!” Dafni spat back.

Well, he found her.

It would seem Dafni’s damsel in distress was none too pleased with her would-be hero. Astarion groaned, bringing his head to his knees. He was agitated as it was and the squabble happening outside was only making the tightness in his chest worse. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to tune them out. Astarion grit his teeth, the pain in his arm was growing more acute by the minute and the strange magic of this shithole had his nerves ragged. His body jolted at the crack of a hand against flesh ringing out across the yard outside followed by a string of elven cursing. A torrent harrowing memories shot through his brain as the appalling noise hit his ear. The simmering dread morphing into fury. A low growl fell from his snarling lips as he tore down the stairs towards the yard.

“The hag promised she’d bring my husband back from the grave if I gave her my baby! I just needed to wait a little longer but you had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong!”

“You promised your child to a hag? You do know hags devour babies, yes? They swallow them whole and within a week the child is reborn a hag daughter.” Dafni’s yelped as Mayrina‘s palm came down across her cheek. She brought a hand to the stinging flesh in disbelief. Foxglove bells dripped from her battle messed hair, hot summer rage threatening to boil over. She took a deep breath in attempting to soothe her nerves but her soundings did little to help. The magic that covered this swamp, was arcane and wild- Much the same as dark and forbidden places in her home plane. Hags often built their homes in places where the barrier between the material and faerie was thin enough for fools from both planes to seek them out. It was unsurprising the shadowy influence of the hag had mingled with the magic of a crossing to create a bubble of negativity. It was likely provoking more extreme reactions from the already distressed woman. “I understand you are upset, but my patience is growing thin. I am only trying to help you. I’m no stranger to hags. They are creatures of my homeland and I can assure you there is always a greater price. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Don’t you judge me! You can’t possibly understand-” Mayrina sobbed raising her open palm for another strike only to her wrist caught in the iron grasp of Astarion’s alabaster hand.

Oh no.

“You foul little wrench!” Astarion’s voice was acid, his teeth bared, “She saved your miserable life and you dare raise your filthy hand to her? I have half a mind to tear your throat out but that seems kinder than you deserve.”

Dafni’s heart was pumping a mile a minute. She’d seen Astarion cross but this was completely different. Astarion’s body was completely rigged. His shoulders forward, back straight. His red eyes glowed with ferocity as his grip on Mayrina tightened. Normally when he was upset he’d get stroppy or belligerent. He’d needle the target of his disapproval with snide remarks until they were as frustrated as he was. He could be rather rude and bab tounged when he felt like it but it was always a cool, controlled vexation. This was unfettered wrath far stronger than Mayrina’s actions had earned.

“I-I’m sorry!” Mayrina uttered with a shaking breath, “Please, let me go!”

“Why?” He snarled, cocking his head to the side, “So you can attempt to strike my beloved a third time?”

“Please, arael’sha, let her go…” Dafni wrapped her hand around his shoulder, her eyes soft and concerned, “I’m fine. She shouldn’t have hit me but I’m in no danger from her and you know that.”

“Fine.” He shot her a loathsome look but yielded to her request, tossing Mayrina’s hand with disgust, “You and your gods damned bleeding-heart. Let the shrew disrespect you if you’d like. I don’t care.” Astarion turned on his heels staking back into the tea house his fists balled tight at his side.

Dafni nibbled her lower lip, her fingers worrying the hem of her sleeves. Astarion had made himself scarce after the incident with Mayrina. It upset her to see him so distressed. Her instinct had been to tear after him when he stormed off. But, she knew him well enough to understand he would need space and time to calm down before they discussed it. Any attempt to talk to him before that would only serve to upset him even more. She made herself busy tending to her friends in the meantime. They had a few injuries but nothing she couldn’t patch up. She might have been too worn out for magic but Ethel had kept a decent supply of herbs and tonics for her less exotic ‘lotions and potions’ that would do nicely. She even found a few things worth snagging for her own medical kit back at camp. If they had to be stranded for the night, at least it was somewhere well stocked.

Gale had a burn on his arm she’d treated with a salve of aloe and quince. Wyll a nasty knock to the head, that while painful, by the Protector’s grace, didn’t appear to be a concussion. She’d put on a kettle of willow bark tea and instructed him to drink at least two cups of the stuff as soon as it was ready. She had done all she could for now. More than anything they both seemed fatigued. With a little rest, they’d be on the mend.

The worn staircase creaked under her weight as she made her way to the second level of the house. Astarion sat on the splintering floor, his back propped up against a cluttered cupboard. His scarlet eyes glassy and fixed on a far off point. He was clutching the top of his right forearm. Between his fingers, Dafni could make out a tell-tale dark stain of red on his sleeve.

“You are hurt!” She gasped racing to his side, “Why didn’t you fetch me! Let me clean and bandage that for you.”

“Don’t touch me.” His voice came out in a low growl as he twisted away from her.

Dafni took a step away, her hands held up. “I won’t touch you without your consent but I need to tend to your arm soon. I’m worried about you.”

“Why should I want your help?” He glared at her arm still held tight against his chest. “You certainly don’t want mine.”

Dafni let out an exacerbated exhale, “Is this about what happened earlier?”

“No, it’s about you and your compulsive need to martyr yourself at every chance! It is foolhardy, reckless, and incredibly selfish! You can be so juvenile- The stars shining right through your eyes! And I can’t always be there to mind you, Dafni! Today it was just a slap but one day you are going to try and save the wrong person and I’m going to find you bled out in an outer city gutter or worse!” He was scolding her in earnest now. His bottled-up feelings coming out in a torrid of icy words. “Is rushing into other people’s disasters to prove to mommy and the gods you are a big girl really worth it? ”

“I do tend to put the needs of others before my own” She admitted, “Oftentimes to my own detriment but, please, don't talk to me as if I am a misbehaving child.” Dafni kept her tone calm and even as she continued, “I care for you and I can tell you are feeling overwhelmed. I want to support you but I can’t do that unless you help me understand what’s going on?”

They sat in silence for a while. His lean frame was closed off and wound tight. As if he was prepared to bolt at the slightest disruption of his already fragile state. An anxious tremble coursing through him every few moments. He refused to face her but Dafni could have sworn she saw the wet shimmer of tears forming in his eyes.

“My patience was already rather thin and then I heard that insolent twit strike you…” He spoke at last, finally met her gaze with an absolutely despondent expression. “And something just snapped in me.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that shouting. I’m sure listening to her smack the daylights out of me wasn’t pleasant for you. Especially when you were already feeling uneasy.” Dafni said as she slowly brought her head to rest on his shaking shoulder. Astarion dropped a smidge of tension from his body as he buried his face in her roseate, satin-soft curls. His breathing grew more steady by the second. She could sense the storm of his disquiet coming to an end. “I want you to know I appreciate you standing up for me. I might not have agreed with the method but I know your heart was in the right place.” She hesitated, “Can I ask you a question?”

He gave her an uncertain look but nodded, “If you’d like to.”

“Do you feel like it’s your job to protect me?”

He shifted a bit his eyes darting away as his good arm rubbed the nape of this neck. His body language all but screamed the answer but he was clearly still trying to craft a response. “Sometimes. Is that a satisfactory response?”

“Hmm?” Dafni mused, “If you elaborate, yes.”

“Why?” The word came at a long, petulant whine. His brows were knit tight, “I answered the question, did I not?”

Dafni brushed a delicate finger along the straight line of his ear. She smiled as a shiver of delight ran throughout him. A faint flush made its way across the bridge of his nose and to his cheeks. So light you’d miss it if you didn’t know what to look for. “Humor me?”

“I don’t like seeing people hurt you.” He said toying with a stray tendril of her hair, “You always see the best in everyone and everything. The world is full of malefactors who would be more than happy to take advantage of that and for some reason, beyond my control, I’ve decided keeping you happy and whole is just as important to my survival as my own well being.” He groaned pinching the space between his brows with the hand of his unmarred arm, “So you see my motivations are far from selfless. Happy?”

Dafni tried to will the bright grin that threatened to take shape across her lips away. Worried she might frighten him off with her enthusiasm. “Your elaboration was sufficient.” She tittered, no longer suppressing her smile. Her eyes shimmering with mirth as she spoke, “I have an idea! How about we strike a bargain?”

Astarion’s mouth quirked with a warm smile of his own, “Wasn’t it the dangers of fey bargains that caused this mess in the first place?”

“Yes, but I am no hag and I’ll give my word to say only what I mean. No tricks. Creatures of Faerie are bound by our word, we never go back on a promise once given.” She explained, “Now, I respect you far too much to lie and say I’ll stop helping people when I think they need it but, I, Dafni Ríwen of Gwynneth, Daughter of Thesmia Ríwen, cleric of blessed Corellon Larethina give you, Astarion of Baldur's Gate my word that I will try to pick my battles rather than jumping in headfirst at every opportunity. In exchange, I ask that you treat me as your equal from now. I watch your back and you watch mine. We protect each other. Always. Do we have a deal?”

“I can agree to that.”

With a bargain struck between them she leaned in close brushing her lips against his cheek, a gentle tingle of magic, sweet as spring spreading through them both. “Now, I insist you give me that arm. You might like the smell of blood but to me, it reeks of iron.” With a half-hearted laugh, he relinquished the injured arm to her at last. Drat. Was nothing simple? The gash was much deeper than she’d thought it to be. “ Hmmm, this will need stitches, unfortunately. At least until I can rest and heal you with magic. I’ll need to boil some more cloth for bandages and find a needle in this mess.” Dafni procured a small flask of pale yellow liquid from her pack, a bit strong for such a simple procedure but with his, she didn’t want to retrigger his fight or flight by stabbing him with whatever dull needle she could scrounge up. “In the meantime take a very small nip of this. It’s a bit of poppy syrup diluted with dandelion wine for the pain and nerves. Drink up. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Dafni made her way back downstairs creating a list of supplies in her mind: She’d need to boil some cloth in witch hazel for dressing, a steel needle, and thread, alcohol to clean the wound, something to keep everything clean and safe while she worked in the filthy alcove...

When Dafni returned she found Astarion lounging rather contently with a lazy grin on his beautiful face. She had told him to take only a small nip! Oh well, at least he’d sit still for her. She sat back down, carefully placing the silver tray of makeshift medical supplies beside her.

“This stuff is great, Daffodil!” He chuckled, swirling the remainder of her laudanum around the flask.

“A nip, Astarion. A nip! Now give me that.” She scolded, snatching the glass bottle from his loose grip. He only laughed, completely bemused by her annoyance. “Alright, I’m going to clean out the cut with some alcohol. It might sting a bit.” Dafni explained, rolling her eyes, “Though I hardly think you’ll notice in this state.”

He winced a bit as the alcohol came in contact with his flesh, his nose scrunching up in displeasure but he sat otherwise stone still. Methodically, she began the work of suturing his arm. He was very lucky she’d been able to bum a needle and thread off Gale otherwise she would have been forced to get creative.

“You are a cleric. Doesn't daddy Corellon grant you all kinds of healing power? Why did you bother to learn how to mend people without magic?”

“Ok, first off please do not refer to the divine being that created our people as ‘daddy’ ever again.” She shook her head with a giggle all the while continuing her task, “Secondly, I learned because of situations just like this one. Magic takes a lot of energy. I can’t just cast unlimited healing spells and the wilds can be dangerous. I never wanted to find myself in a situation when I was unable to care for myself or my sisters. Besides, I needed something to study while they and my mother worked on their wizardry.”

“I want to know something else. Why did you let that fool girl get away with slapping you?”

Dafni mulled the thought over for a bit as she finished the final stitch, snipping the thread with a pair of sewing shears she fully intended to steal. “Because I felt sorry for her. She had clearly already suffered enough without my vengeance. Humans live such fleeting lives, Astarion. They are over before our people even reach adulthood. They experience so much loss and decay in such little time. I think it can make them blind to the long term implications of their choices.”

“I still think you should have let me kill her for disrespecting you.” He shrugged, “But I suppose I can understand your thinking.”

“As I said, she’s suffered more than her fair share. But I appreciate the sentiment.” She gathered a length of linen, winding it snugly over his arm. “All done! You were a model patient!” She teased before adding with sincerity, “I hope that wasn’t too bad.”

“It wasn’t bad at all. Thank you. For everything.” He paused for a beat, his eyes falling to the well-worn floorboards, “You are the first person to treat me like a man in a very long time. You make it easy to forget I’m an undead horror. I’m eternally grateful for you even if I’m not the best at expressing that.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that Astarion.” She scowled, “It hurts my heart when you say things like that about yourself. We might not always see eye to eye and I won’t lie, you can be an absolute pain in my backside. But you will always be a person to me. Never a monster.”

“Always so sweet.” He sighed, slumping against her shoulder, nuzzling his favorite spot in the hollow of her neck. “I wish I understood you. All that time and I don’t think I’ve ever really understood you- how you can be so... good. Yet, frustratingly you’ve always seemed to understand me better than I understand myself.”

He spoke with an unmistakable familiarity, far beyond that which they’d formed over the past few days. Their people lived many lives. Longing to return to Corellon’s side in Arvandor but unable to as punishment for confining themselves to a single shape. Two elves could find each other in more than one lifetime. It was far from unheard of.

The Feywilds did funny things to a person's memory if they weren’t used to its magic. Even affecting the reverie of those from other lands who spent time among their eladrin cousins. The crossing or the magic of her bargain could possibly have provoked things long forgotten.

Or he was simply three sheets to the wind.

Regardless it was refreshing to have such a candid conversation with him. Free of affectation or pretense. Even if he was almost certainly going to forget all of it and be right back to his cocksure self by morning.

“I disagree.” She stated, “I think you understand me better than you think. You’re just a little out of practice when it comes to letting people close to you. You didn’t ask but, as I’m positive you’ll forget this little talk by tomorrow, I also want to add that I think you are secretly very sensitive. I’ve also seen the puppy eyes you give me when you think I’m not looking. Totally adorable! You are just afraid to let people see that side of you.”

“Puppy eyes?” He chuckled nipping softly at her throat, “I think I preferred thinking you were scared of me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetness.” She tuted placing a light peck on his forehead, “You need to rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Oh, my darling, Despoena.” He muttered exhausted against her shoulder. “It was so lonely here without you. I’m glad you found me at last.”

Dafni’s heart stopped dead in its tracks.

How?

He named her.

The memories of one’s primal life were lost after their first century. Leaving only glimmers and fragments behind. For the fey eladrin, true names- The names they had carried when they sprung from the blood of the Creator, were the most sacred and personal of those precious among them. Names held power in the land of Faerie but none so much as a soul’s true name. They were not to be shared with even the closest of loved ones, and yet in his haze, Astarion somehow knew?

“Astarion… I’ve never told anyone my true name. Not even my mother knows it. How did you know it? And what do you mean by ‘I’m glad you found me’? Are you having some kind of waking reverie or are you just high out of your mind? I’m a little taken back- And you are snoring. Great. You blurt out my only true secret and then it's off to Sehanine Moonbow with you.”

As desperately as she wanted to puzzle out the evening's events she was tired in mind and body. The others had already settled in for the night and she’d be wise to do the same. She settled herself in for trance, Astarion’s head on her shoulder, his hand intertwined with hers. Praying her reverie might provide some answers.

#astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 early access #dafni of gwynneth #feywilds #d&d #that sweet lore #tw panic attack #tw past abuse #elf writes #sunshine & starlight

28 notes · View notes

elles-writing · 4 years ago

Text

When The Worlds Collide - VI

Kili x reader

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for not posting my own works in like two weeks or so. It was rough for my mental health and school was kicking my ass and I was not in a mood for doing many things, so now I hope you will like this long chapter!! It’s not really about the main plot, just some fluffy moments to enjoy. Also, it was my birthday 23rd September and it’s finally autumn!! I also don’t really know when am I going to draw, because like I said, I was not doing mentally well, but I think I could give it a shot in a next few days, because I’m on my autumn break, finally! I’ve been finishing a cake w my mom in past hour or so and I created a moon on it and waves in Gogh’s paintings style, I’ll show you a photo of it in next part.

gif not mine

gif not mine (inspo for the bun and cooking scene)

Also, I’m not sure in which year in modern world this shall be oriented, but songs I’ve been thinking of (aka you playing these to them):

Spanish: Volar – Alvaro Soler, also We Don’t Speak Americano

French: Amour Plastique – VIDEOCLUB, La Vie En Rose – Edith Piaf

Korean: Sweat, Blood & Tears – BTS (because I don’t know almost any Japanese songs, but I like this one and some other songs in Korean)

Vegetable pie – quiche (I’ve had a pumpkin one in a cafe and it was real good)

Warnings: fluff

tags: @moony-artnstuff @whenputtingpentopaper

One of the fun things while having this group around was that they would constantly look around some rooms in your house and tell you how pretty it was, even if you haven't been tidying and cleaning it in two weeks at least. They also loved to explore your library and spended countless hours by reading the books. You've decided to introduce them to human culture. Only the basic things, really.

"So, here, the race of Men has developed into a different coultures and languages all over the world. Can you guess, for example, how many languages is here?" Kili didn't even thought about his answer.

"Well, you have one common language, so I guess just one, maybe two or three," He said with proud confident smile, changing in his typical cheeky grin as he winked at you. You chuckled and shook your head. Balin looked up from his book.

"There must be more. What about five, or ten?" You looked over others.

"Any other answer? C'mon, try out some number." You felt like a teacher in a class of many different students.

"Thirty languages, that could be," said Legolas calmly.

"Well, this is much bigger world, but it can't be that much. I guess twenty." Bard was thinking aloud.

"So, how is it, lass?" Fili asked and you couldn't help to cover a smile that was forming on your face.

"Well, actually, it's much more than that," you said. You've heard Gandalf to chuckle.

"It's over six thousand languages." Kili's eyes widened and his jaw fell down, Fili did pretty similar face. Most of them looked at you as if you'd told them you personally know Smaug and he's your best friend. And that dragons are the biggest cuddly softies.

"Bold of you to assume that whole population in this world speaks one language or a few dozens of them," you jokily murmed to yourself. Of course, elvish ears have picked that up. Thranduil looked at you with his icy glare.

„How does they sound, then?“ You pulled out your phone and opened YouTube.

„Well, this is a language called Spanish,“ You‘ve played one song in Spanish and all of them were listening to it, deeply in thought. You’ve noticed some dwarves trying to catch the lyrics, and when the song ended, you looked over them.

„This was Spanish, it’s one of the most largely-spoken languages all over the world. It can be slightely different, it depends on where you go. Then, there is another language, and it’s called French. It’s also called the ‚language of love‘, because it sounds softly and even as some sort of charm or magic.“ You looked to the elves.

„I think you may like it, it sounds a bit as an elvish in a way,“ You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to offend them. They looked more interested in what you were about to play to them.

„This song is in French, but it’s a sad song. It’s also quite old, but I think it’s quite a good example, because it’s well-known, so,“ you left the sentence unfinished and played La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf, then one more modern song in French so they’d get the idea. When it ended, you’ve spoken again.

„Well, then there are much different languages. This one is Korean,“ you said and played a song, around fourty seconds.

„What were they saying? It’s all so different!“ You’ve heard Fili and smirked.

„You haven’t heard Russian, Fili.“ Kili sat closer to you, just as a puppy needy for attention.

„They are all so different!“ He threw his hands into air. You smiled.

„Oh yeah, they are. But it’s better to know at least two languages, to get higher chances of getting a job. The more languages you know, the more likely will people want you to work for them.“ Bard piped up.

„How can you learn them? Some of them sound way too difficult to learn, that Korean for example, how would you learned that?“ You looked over to your library.

„Oh well, you can go to some classes and learn the language here, or you can learn them by yourself. There are many textbooks you can use for learning grammar, and you can use books in your target language to help you to learn the vocabulary. Or you can watch movies in that language, listen to a songs, read articles instead of books, text or call with somebody who speaks that language...there are plenty of ways to do so, there is probably even more of them. Also, depends on the language and the person. Some people learn easier when they’ll learn the basic grammar first, someone needs to learn the pronounciation first, and so on.“ You finished talking and they were staring at you, surprised.

„How many languages do you know, if I may ask?“ Balin looked curiously down at you, sitting with crossed legs on the floor with Kili sitting next to you. You’ve thought about his question.

„Well, I’m fluent in two languages, and I’m learning another one. It’s a great way to relieve stress and it’s really fun thing to do, even though sometimes you have to learn to write completely different letters.“ You showed them Koren, Japanese and Russian letters, and they couldn’t believe their eyes.

A few minutes later

Fili sat down to the other side, so you were seated between them and they could look on your phone and into your book about Korea and Japan.

„How can you write that? How can you read that? It’s impossible! It all sounds the same!“ Kili and Fili cried out when Google Translate pronounciation have proved them wrong after another attempt of reading the languages.

„Every language has it’s own rhytm and you have to really listen to it, so you will recognize the words. If you don’t know the languages, it does sound close. Maybe we could try out some French and Spanish, what do you think?“ You said after seeing the elves being annoyed that they could not pronounce it, but not complaining as the dwarf brothers.

But oh boy, French and Spanish, that was another challenge. Even if not that big, but still.

„How do you do that with your mouth?!“ Kili asked you, looking as unhappy, flustrated puppy whom you took it’s ball and refused to give it back (or throw it).

„There are some rules for something called grammar and pronounciation, which you are purposely ignoring and then you complain you don’t understand how to do it!“ You said and rolled your eyes.

„You always tell me it’s wrong!“

„Because it is! You are pronouncing it wrong! It’s leviOUsa, not levioSAAA-!“ You stopped and then you started laughing. Kili furrowed his eyebrows.

„What, what are you laughing about? What is so funny? Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?!“ Kili looked at you, lying on your back on the floor, tears from laugh sparkling in your eyes.

„I sound-I sound just like a Hermione! It’s not LevioSAA-“ You started laughing again and they all looked at you worried.

„Shall we be concerned?“ Fili asked and you shook your head.

„No, no, it’s okay, I just-“ You looked at Kili and tried to not to laugh again.

„I’m okay, it’s okay.“ You breathed in and out, slowly, closing your eyes. You didn’t noticed how most of them looked at each other. As if they’d ended up with some crazy person.

You spoken.

„Okay, I think that was enough of languages for today. I know you have Khuzdul, Elvish and common language in Middle-Earth, but here is much more. Human culture in here has been developing for thounsands of years on many different places, so that’s why.“ You said and got up to your laptop to find some pictures of a certain places. They all came closer.

„Well, this is Rome, in Italy. Then, we have Paris, in France, now some Scandinavian countries. This is Stockholm, Sweden. Then, there is London, Great Britain. Now, this is Los Angeles and New York, that’s both in United States. This is in Japan and this is in Australia.“ You showed them well-known places all over the world and especially Europe, since you assumed it was the closest to Middle-Earth style of living.

After a while, you’ve decided to make some dinner. It wasn’t too much left, and you knew you’d have to go shopping soon, but you didn’t wanted to stress yourself about leaving some fictional characters alone in your house for an hour. No. You prepared a recipe and ingredients and started making dough and left them in living room with another pile of books. They especially loved classics, because they had similar language to what they were using, but they liked even more modern books. You didn’t even counted the time you were thanking yourself for collecting books and being a bookworm. And being a „public library“, as you and your friend would say.

Meanwhile, Kili looked up from his book to Fili, whom was reading one book series and seemed to like it, but now his brows was furrowed as if trying to solve some problem that came up. He quietly closed it and noticed you weren’t here with them, so he‘ve decided to find you and maybe talk with you about the book he was currently reading.

The first place, where he’ve decided to take a look to, was kitchen. He stood in the doorway, more to the side so you wouldn’t noticed him right away, but you seemed to be deeply in thought and mentally far away.

You were making a dough, with your hair up in a messy bun, your apron had quite a lot of flour on it, some flour ended up on your face and especially on your cheeks and up to elbows your hands were covered in it, even in your hair was a flour, but you didn’t seemed to mind it here. Next to you, there was a bowl of some cutted vegetables and a smaller bowl of cheese and a few eggs, some spices and herbs.

He didn’t noticed when you‘ve looked up as his memory flew back to his mother back in their old home in Middle-Earth in the kitchen cooking and his and Fili’s failed attempts they called cooking. They were much better at cooking from mud and twiggs than from real food. He imagined his mother and you in that kitchen and that you’d both tell him to get out from the kitchen and he’d sneak in afterwards to steal some piece of pie or cookies or sweet pasteries to prepare for you and him a picnic under the stars...

„Are you going to stand here and stare at me while I’m cooking?“ You placed your hands on your hips and a smile was dancing across your face. Kili’s head snapped and his cheeks blushed.

„I, uh, I wanted to talk with you about this book, I think it’s a good one.“ You came back to your dough and started working on it, again.

„Well, what books is it?“ You looked at the book he was holding.

"Oh, so The Picture of Dorian Gray. How do you like it so far?“ Kili looked at the book in his hands as if it could answer instead of him. He didn’t wanted to embarrass himself in front of you.

„Well, I...uh...it’s-it’s interesting and-“ You softly chuckled and his head snapped up.

„You can sit by the table rather than to stand in the doorway, Kee. Or you can help me out.“ You clapped your hands and big cloud of flour appeared in the air. A cheeky grin found a way to his face.

„Oh, so you would risk cooking with me, miss Y/N?“ You grinned back at him.

„Well, maybe. And still, you can sit down and talk about the book, I’ll listen to you.“ You said and a soft chuckle escaped your lips when you’ve seen how eager he was to sit near you, somebody whom was ready to listen to him.

„Tell me what you honestly think of that book, Kili. I won’t get offended or anything.“ You smiled at him and you’ve seen his eyes to shine as he spoke and when you were talking about all the characters and the storyline from different points of view, but that didn’t lasted long, because...food.

„What are you cooking?“ Kili asked curiously as he’ve checked the dough you were doing, the vegetables, spices and herbs.

„I’m baking a pie with vegetables and cheese, Kee.“ He scrunched his face and furrowed eyebrows.

„Why would you bake it with vegetables? Pies are sweet, aren’t they?“ He looked up at you with his questioning soft brown eyes and you’ve melted once again. You sighed and started explaining.

„Well, they are, but this type of pie is made with vegetables and cheese and eggs. It tastes good, I promise. It’s something like a pizza, but...well, it’s just a bit different, but good too!“ You said and he nodded, remembering that you baked a pizza a few days ago. Then he was standing next to you, looking sleepishly down at it.

„Put your hair out of the way, Kili, or they will end up in it. And that would not be good.“ You said, pulled out a hair-tie from the pocket of your apron, and created a messy bun out of his hair. You’ve realized that touching someone’s hair is (well, at least in the movies and books) intimate for dwarves, so you felt your face to heat up in embarrassement. You realized that it was probably true when Kili was suddenly stiff and his ears became red.

„Oh, I didn’t realized, I’m sorry-“ He cutted you off.

„It’s okay,“ You noticed he was sleepishly looking at you, but there was a twinkle in his eyes telling you he was not mad at you. (As if he could be possibly actually mad at somebody, you thought.) You shyly looked away.

„I, uh, wanna help me out?“ You looked down at floor, suddenly too embarrassed to look at him, so you didn’t noticed how his eyes widened in surprise.

„Y-you would let me to cook?!“ His voice came out as high-pitched and you glanced at him. His eyes were set on you, he was clearly surprised and excited.

„I will keep an eye on you, but yes, at some point I will.“ You said a bit hesitantely. He looked a bit concerned, but excitement overtook him. You handed him an apron. Yours was dark blue with little stars on it, this one was creamy with brown fabric around the edges. You helped him to put it on and stepped a bit away, hands on your hips and slightely narrowed eyes.

„Yeah, that’s good. But we need to do something with your bangs,“ You said and pulled out a few hair clips and bobby pins in more sizes from pocket of your apron. You went through them and then slightely nodded, chose a few of them and the rest gave back. You looked up to Kili.

„This will help to hold all of your hair out of your face,“ you said and he took them and suspiciously glanced at them. You sighed and rolled playfully your eyes. You took one of your pocket, took a strand of hair that escaped to your bun and inhaled.

„That’s how to do it. It’s not like it will bite you.“ You said, clasped the strand to it’s place, placing your hands on your hips and rising your eyebrow. He grinned and winked at you.

„Okay, let’s get the pie done!“ You quickly said, trying to cover your rising blush.

You broke the eggs into the bowl with vegetables and let Kili to put the herbs into it, but you added spices and heavy cream into it.

„Now, mix it-carefully, so it won’t end up on the floor and stay in the bowl-and then carefully pour it onto the dough,“ you motioned to the prepared dough on pie dish. Kili, when he calmed down (which almost didn’t happened, he seemed to be excited somebody trusted him enough to let him to kitchen to do something else than just eat, drink or sneak in for food), was a quick learner. You placed the pie to oven and let it to bake. You leaned against the counter and with a huff you wiped off your forehead.

„I think it’s time to get cleaned up,“ you sighed, your eyes falling shut. Kili nodded, but it seemed something on your face cought his attention. He came closer, he was close enough for you to see his soft gaze filled with concern and his brows slightely scrunched, him being concentrated.

„You have...a bit of flour left here...“ he said and his thumb runned across your cheek. You slighely flinched on that sudden contact. Your eyes met his and you’ve seen in his gaze he was thinking about something. His touch was sending shivers down your spine. You slightely opened your mouth, but closed it again, not wanting to ruin the moment. His eyes had a sparks in them, but he looked more nervous than cheeky and confident this time.

You couldn’t help but looked quickly on his lips and back to his eyes. It was only you two now, as if the whole world disappeared. You were holding your breath, nervous what was about to happen.

„I-,“ Kili whispered and you felt his breath on your lips. He was looking deep into your e/c eyes, thinking about how beautiful they were and how close he was. He could kiss you, your lips were just a few inches away, and he’d lie if he said he have never, at least once thought about how it would felt like to kiss you, at least once, since he met you.

„Kili, where are you?!“ You both flinched, quickly parted and looked away. You’ve heard Kili groaning as his older brother appeared in the doorway.

„You need to read this series Kee-wait-“ he slightely frowned, looking at his brother more properly.

„You were...cooking?“ You nervously smiled.

„Uhm, yeah, I was making a dinner and, uhm, Kili was helping me out,“ You said.

„Kili, you can go clean up, I will clean here a bit,“ You didn’t gave him a place for an answer when you pushed him to go to Fili. When a door fell after them, you sat down on the floor and thought about that moment you almost kissed. And then Fili came in, you thought and groaned. He was definetely keeping an eye on his brother.

#kili x reader #kili #the hobbit #fanfiction #fili #fluff

47 notes · View notes

elfy-elf-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

The Fickleness of Mortals | Lindir

Prompt: “Is that blood?" “...No?”

Pairing: Lindir x Human!Reader

Warnings: none

Requested by: Anonymous

The wind lazily blew through Rivendell, rustling the trees in the elven haven, the scent of various flora spread throughout blending into one intoxicatingly enchanting scent. The sun was low, the sunset a beautiful array of oranges and pinks, so breathtaking it almost appeared like the gods used the sky as a canvas to paint upon. The distant sound of music echoed from The Hall of Fire, as the elves merrily danced and drank fine wine. Normally you’d be right in there, swaying carelessly in a beautiful dress of elven make, switching partners like the wind switches tempo. The sweet wine would constantly be on the tip of your tongue; never enough to make a fool or yourself, but just enough to forget about your anxieties in the presence of the beautiful elves.

However, you were currently hiding away in your room. Bundled under your covers, trying to block out the merry elves, and not for the first time, cursing your mortality. Blood had long since ruined your nightdress as you desperately placed rags used for washing in your underwear to try and soak up any blood. Your bed looked like it was taken straight from a horror movie, but you couldn’t wash them yet. There could be some people lingering in the wash house - where they clean the laundry. How embarrassing would it be if someone saw all the blood. You were almost 99% sure that elves didn’t even get periods, and you didn’t want to be the one to explain what they are. You were only on your second day, meaning you still had at least five more days of torture. You had to avoid all of the friends you’d made in order to avoid any embarrassment. Even worse was avoiding Lindir. He was so sweet and thoughtful, it hurt you to hide away from him.

A knock echoed in your room. Your blood ran cold as your heart beat sped up. Someone had come to check on you. But no one can see you, especially in this state! You hadn’t been able to bath yourself yet, so you smelled fishy and there was blood all over your sheets, blankets, and your clothes.

"Who is it?" you called out, voice cracking from anxiety at the end.

"It’s me Y/N. I came to make sure you were well." the melodious voice of Lindir calls out. His voice was so silvery, it was no wonder he was a minstrel, and a good one at that. Normally you’d be overjoyed that he was thinking of you. Part of you always hoped he shared the same feelings you felt for him. But now was one of the few times you wanted him to not be so concerned about you.

"I’m ok, just feeling a bit tired." you call out, hoping that would enough for him to leave. It wasn’t.

"Is it alright if I come in? I haven’t seen you all day, in fact no one has seen you since yesterday. I’m concerned meleth nin." he replies, his voice showing how much he’s been worrying.

‘There’s that phrase again.’ you thought to yourself. About a year ago, he’d started calling you that, but no one would tell you what it meant, not even Erestor, who’s supposed to be teaching you Elvish!

"I’d rather you didn’t Lindir. I’m not in a state to be seen." you desperately say, hoping he’ll leave if you imply you aren’t decent. There’s a pause, you can hear Lindir shuffling nervously. Finally, he answer you once more.

"Oh, alright. I brought you some wine and food from the feast, I’ll just leave it by your door then." he sounds dejected, and you internally yelled and screamed at yourself for making him feel that way.

"Okay. Thank you!" you call back, feeling guilty for how your acting. Once you hear his footsteps echo away from your door until you can no longer hear them, you crack the door and grab the things he’d left for you.

"Stupid period." you grumble to yourself, sadly drinking the sweet wine and eating the food.

This continue one for the rest of the week, avoiding everyone that you can. After the third day you finally left your room, the worst of your period being over, but you were still cautious. You were religious about trying to keep any blood from seeping onto your dress, using rags as makeshift pads. But if was never enough. Anytime Lindir would enter a room you would immediately leave. If you were walking down a hall and spotted him walking your way, you’d duck into a random hall and hide until he left. It was exhausting and left your heart heavy. What you didn’t know was Lindir was taken your avoidance harder. Perhaps he’d done something wrong, offended you in way unknown to him. Or the most horrifying of all, maybe you didn’t return the feelings he’d harbored for you for so long. He’d didn’t know which hurt most. His only reassurance in all of this, was that you were avoiding everyone.

So, with a few pep talks from Glorfindel, Erestor, and Lady Arwen, he was determined to confront you and demand a reason for your absence. Maybe not demand it, but poliety ask. That’s how he ended up waiting in front of your door, hand raised to knock. Before he could put fist to wood, the door swung open. You stood in front of his, looking disheveled with a pile the size of you in bedding. You froze upon noticing Lindir, cursing yourself in every language you knew for not checking if the way was clear.

He stared at you, unsure of what to do, while you looked like a deer in headlights. Finally, he broke himself from his frozen state upon noticing the red staining various parts of you sheets.

"It that blood?" he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion. Normally, the gesture would make you swoon at the cuteness. But now your face was beet red for another reason. You’d been caught, there was no way out of this. Even if you just closed the door and never opened it again. Although that idea did sound tempting.

"…No?" you answer, the response sounding more like a question than anything. He merely stared at the blankets for a moment longer, before his look of confusion turns to panic. Suddenly, Lindir is pacing in front of your door, muttering elvish - too fast for your brain to translate. However, his tone of panic was all you needed to understand. You swiftly throw you bedding inside your room, stepping into the hall with him and closing your door.

"Lindir. Lindir are you okay?" you ask, unsure of his sudden reaction. You grab his shoulders so he’ll be still. He looks at you with a horrified expression, his eyes watering.

"You’re dying aren’t you?" he mutters, voice cracking as a few stary tears fall. Now it’s your turn to be confused.

"No. Why would you say that?" you asks.

"Why wouldn’t I ask that?" his voice grows louder. "All of the blood on your sheets, it’s obvious! We need to get you to the Healing House immediately - no, we need to take you to Lord Elrond! Why didn’t you tell anyone about your deteriorating health! I shouldn’t known something deeper was wrong!" he cries out, grabbing your hand to drag you to the Lord of Rivendell.

"Lindir, wait stop. That’s not necessary, I’m not dying." you tell him, in an attempt to stop him.

"How could you say that? In all my years I’ve never seen-" he begins, but you swiftly cut him off.

"That’s because, it’s normal for humans, female humans to be exact, but obviously not for elves." you mutter, voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t believe you were about to explain periods to the man you're in love with.

"That’s…normal?" he asks, the panic and fear washing away from his face. You swallow the lump in your throat, internally giving yourself a pep talk.

"Yeah, every month female humans bleed from their….you know. It’s completely normal and more of an annoyance than dangerous. It’s why I’ve been avoiding everyone." you tell him, attempting to feign confidence. His mouth opens and closes for a few moments, no words coming from either of you until suddenly he laughs. It’s carefree and light, completely different from the anxiety he showed before.

"That was all it was? You were embarrassed. Meleth nin, I thought I’d offended you in some way." he explains, grasping your arms with his own. You smile, and chuckle at your own expense. It was kind of stupid.

"Yeah, I guess it was stupid of me. I’m sorry that I made you feel that way, it wasn’t my intention." you reassure him. "Although…there has been one thing that’s been bothering me." You say, remembering the elven phrase he just said. His face pales as he instantly goes into full panic mode, seeing this you immediately soothed him. "Nothing serious, I promise." you tell him, and he immediately relaxes once more.

"What is it, meleth nin." he says, his face softening.

"That." he cocks his head to the side. "That phrase that you just used. What does it mean." you clarify. His hands that are still holding your arms tense just the slightest, and you see momentary panic rush through him.

"Well, I was hoping to do this in a much more elaborate fashion. But, I suppose if I’ve learned anything from today, there’s nothing like the present." you simply nod, giving the nervous elf an encouraging smile. He returns it before continuing, stepping just a hair closer to you, so close you could feel his breathe against your skin. "Meleth nin would translate to my love in the common tongue." Your body freezes has his words slowly process in your brain.

My love.

He calls me 'my love.'

Lindir has feelings for me.

A broad smile appears on your face and anxieties about Lindir confession immediately leave at your reaction. You step closer to him, leaving no room at all between you too. "You love me." you say, more as a statement than a question.

"I do, I have a long time now. I just never knew how to tell you." Lindir says, his face lovesick. The same expression he always had on his face around you. Now all the signs that you were so oblivious to were all too obvious now. You almost wanted to bang your head against a wall, but didn’t want to ruin this moment.

"I love you too." are the only words you manage to utter. Tentatively the both of you lean in towards each other, lips just a hair away.

"May I?" he softly whispers. Instead of responding you merely press your lips against his.

-------

Tags: @reclusive-chicken-nugget

#lindir imagine #lindir x reader #lord of the rings imagine #Lord of the rings #rivendell elves #rivendell imagine #fluffy

481 notes · View notes

musicallisto · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I get a ship for Playchoices, MCU, and Disney? I’m a straight, mixed-race female with long dark hair + dark eyes. I wear glasses + l o v e musicals. I’m also an INFJ, Slytherin, + daughter of Hecate. I love to play solitaire, w r i t e , + read. I’m patient, but I will call you out when I need to, and I’m super loyal - unless you cross me or my family. I’m an introvert + love the rain. My ideal date is probably going to a bookstore or museum because I’m a total nerd. :) Thank you!

I Ship You With...

Prince Aerin (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Prince Aerin would channel the more lowkey side of your personality, but he wouldn’t want you to get rid of your more hyper moments for anything in the world. He loves how excited you get when you’re rambling about something you love. Your eyes light up when you remember that last exhibition you saw at a museum and all the cool, historical artifacts that were discovered, or all the beautiful paintings you’ve admired. He listens to you with an attentive and tender ear.

He gifts you books, all sorts of novels from different corners of the world that he’s visited in his travels, translated versions of ancient Elvish manuscripts and epic battle poems from Orcish legend. He knows how much you love to read, and he does too, so he understands the power such a gift can hold.

He values your loyalty most. In a sense, it is important for the king that lies dormant in him, whether he wants it or not, to rest assured of his subjects’ loyalty to his cause. But he could never see you as a subject, a mere citizen, another name and face to acclaim him, and that’s the fundamental difference between his brother and him. He loves you for your loyalty because he knows he will never feel deserted, even when you’re far. It’s difficult for him to find someone who appreciates him for himself, not because he’s an heir nor because he’s an easy springboard to get to his brother. That’s why he clings onto you and showers you with love, even when he doesn’t quite know how to express it. You make him feel like a real human - no longer a shadow.

Bucky Barnes

lowkey thought about Tony for a second but it didn’t feel right - until I remembered Bucky. I’m so sorry Bucky sweetie I could forget about you

Bucky would love your creative streak, and your introverted nature. Don’t get me wrong, he also loves someone who can have a lot of fun (and you are a ball of fun when you want to), but after all the rough hardships he’s been through, I imagine the poor man wants nothing but a little bit of peace and quiet, if only just to believe that such chimeras exist still in the world. You provide him with that. A steady presence and a soft voice, a lazy hand running through his hair while he’s falling asleep and you’re reading a book by a window.

He would notice you playing cards all the time on your own, and even if he knows solitaire and used to see Steve playing it all the time back in the day, it takes him a little time to remember that. The crucial memories are only starting to come back, little by little. You can’t expect him to already remember the rules to various card games.

“Can I play with you?” “I’d love to, Buck, but you can’t.” “And why, pray tell?” “It’s in the name, Bucky.”

Right. Well, he’ll leave you to your solitaire. He won’t even watch you play from afar, smiling slightly at your concentrated frown and your little squeals of triumph when you draw out exactly the ten of spades you needed to finish the column. He’ll beat you in blackjack, anyway.

“So you’re telling me that musicals are still a thing on Broadway?” “Yes, of course! They’re amazing. Even better than what you had in the Forties.” “I doubt that entirely.” “I’m sorry, did you have Lafayette rapping with a French accent about Alexander Hamilton?” “... Alright, I’m all ears.”

You’d like to say you drag him to Broadway every now and then to watch a musical, but in reality he’s just as eager to see them as you are, and you end up attempting to bellow the main themes on the way home, scaring the stray cats in the alleyways and crying of laughter.

Flynn Rider (Tangled)

Is it the Mal vibes from your profile picture? Presumably. Anyway, you would have a blast every single day of your life accompanied by Flynn, and he would remember each mischief you accomplish together with a genuine smile. Fleeing from the law and running from country to country is much more fun when you’re with the right person. A person who can make you laugh, challenge you, who you can bicker with about the stupidest things...

“Listen, I don’t know much about that mythology thing of yours --” “Exactly, you don’t know much, so why are you bothering me with your opinion?” “-- Hermes is obviously the best god. The god of thieves and orators! How can you doubt it?” “Hermes doesn’t hold a candle to Hecate with his miserable sandals...” “Now don’t disrespect him, young lady, because he’s still the one feeding us at the end of the day.” And with a mock salute to the sky, he whispers, “forgive her, for she does not know what she speaks.”

Flynn may be an idiot, but he’s your idiot. Your best friend and your partner. Anyone who dares touch him will get a taste of your legendary wrath. You do not cross Flynn Rider’s path - or yours - with impunity. He’ll admit he’s a little bit scared of you when you get this protective, but also glad you’re on his side. A little flattered, too.

“What was that, back there? ‘Don’t you dare touch my...’?” “Flynn, for the love of God--” “oh, fiddlesticks, I forgot. Won’t you remind me?” “Shut up, you idiot...” “I’m sure it started with an L. My lov...” “To hell with you, Flynn Rider!”

He knows all the great taverns, you know all the great songs. Nights together are a neverending cycle of trying to control him when he drinks a little too much and starts standing on greasy tables to sing. Then it gets to a point in the night where you know you won’t be able to control him, and just try to limit the damage.

But the songs are just so catchy and you’ve made half a dozen friends in the tavern already (actually, Flynn beat them at a knife-throwing contest and weirdly enough, they took a liking into him instead of throwing the knife at his chest), and Flynn can manage on his own... right?

Oh, whatever. You’ll keep an eye on him. And if not, you’ll find him at dawn and you’ll sleep for the whole day in an inn, tangled up together and dreaming of your next adventure...

#ship #ship request #matchup #playchoices #blades #prince aerin #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #disney #tangled #flynn rider #mywriting #olive 🏺#came back here in june 2022 to mass edit the tags and can you believe this was our first interaction ? i'm getting teary-eyed

18 notes · View notes

jarienn972 · 5 years ago

Text

A Simple Spell - Chapter Two

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

Tonight, I’m bringing you Chapter Two of my @cssns story. This chapter is a brief flashback to Emma’s actions that will set the rest of the actions into play and I’m going to preface it with a quick disclaimer that the witchcraft portrayed in this story is entirely fictional and is not intended to be an accurate portrayal of Wiccan practices. I've adapted the depiction of magic and spells strictly to fit this narrative. Also, please forgive me if the Latin phrases presented are a little off. I tried my best to ensure the correct translation of the phrases in the spell presented but I'm a little rusty.

Again, I have to give a huge amount of thank yous to the creators of this event for allowing me to stretch my creativity and to my beta, @lassluna for helping me keep this all flowing correctly! Last, but not least, thank you to @cocohook38 for her incredible artwork!

I hope you enjoy Chapter Two!

Also on AO3 and FF.net Chapter One

The Previous Evening

Emma had, from her first visit with the Mills sisters, found it a tad morbid that their coven gatherings were held in a vault deep beneath the crypt of their parents' mausoleum. She could still recall Regina leading her down this path through the fog-obscured graveyard - when it appeared as though Emma was about to be on the receiving end of a very bad practical joke. She'd kept a tight grip on her service weapon as she'd followed the mayor down a carved stone stairway until they reached the faintly illuminated room hidden below.

After several months of meetings here, visiting for various lessons or to simply bear witness the Wiccan rituals, Emma was growing accustomed to the eerie surroundings. There was always a hint of unease in the pit of her stomach when she descended below the land of the dead but it just didn't nauseate her as much now as it used to.

Tonight, she'd trekked through the cemetery after work, running just a little late for the 8pm conjuring practice session that Zelena had planned. Emma was heading into the night a little half-heartedly after nagging memories plagued her all day. Memories that continued to haunt her as she descended deeper into the earth. Sure, making a ball of flames appear out of the palm of your hand was cool and all, but it truly wasn't where Emma's thoughts lay tonight.

She allowed herself to slink down the steps, hoping she'd arrived unnoticed, but as she turned the corner at the vault's entrance, she was met by Regina's disdainful glare.

"You're late, Miss Swan," was the greeting that spewed from the Mayor's tongue.

"Sorry," Emma stammered. "I had some paperwork to finish up before I could leave the office but I got here as quickly as I could." It was mostly a lie, but Regina didn't need to know that she'd actually been contemplating not even showing up tonight.

"Well, we were just about to don our robes. Hurry up and join us in the circle," Regina instructed as she thrust a jet black, hooded brocade robe into Emma's hands. The student accepted the garment from her instructor with a nod of thanks while quickly shedding her crimson leather jacket. She tossed her jacket haphazardly over a wooden armchair as she tugged the robe over her shoulders before proceeding into the main chamber. She was immediately reminded how claustrophobic the vault could be when their entire coven was present.

Theirs was currently a coven of five. As Emma saw it, there was one member for each point of the pentacle inlaid within the marble circle that adorned the vault's floor. The Mills sisters were, by far, the most active and the most powerful practitioners of the group, but they were joined by Ruby Lucas, the waitress at Granny's diner - whom Emma suspected might have a few other hidden powers, and Ingrid, an older witch of the prior generation whose methods and ideals quite often clashed with the Mills sisters. Ingrid was the last remaining member of the original coven, having practiced alongside Regina and Zelena's late mother, Cora, but that was all Emma knew. No one really talked about the old guard much, but Emma knew they'd been a formidable group of sorceresses.

Emma made her way into formation as Regina's flame-haired older sister, Zelena, lit the candles positioned within the circle with a mere flick of the ebony wand clutched in her hand. Emma found some of the rituals a bit unnerving, but like being twenty feet beneath a tomb, she was growing used to the feeling. Her mind was just wandering a bit more tonight than normal.

Today had been an auspicious anniversary for her and the only reason she'd even made the decision to come was that she absolutely didn't want to be sitting around the loft with her overly-positive sister-in-law. She'd decided that a coven gathering in the crypt was preferable to drowning her sorrows down at the Rabbit Hole - and a lot less expensive. Plus, the vault gave her access to collections of books and scrolls that might help her find something useful should she be given permission to search them. She just needed something to keep herself distracted for a little while. Something to prevent her from falling back into any of her old, desolate traps - because tonight was the anniversary of the day she'd had her heart crushed into a million pieces - a story she'd not yet shared with anyone here in Storybrooke.

That heartbreak had become the catalyst that really kicked off her quest to discover her family and the history her mother had hidden from her. She'd believed that solving her own personal mysteries would be the best way to heal after being abandoned by the man she'd thought she'd loved - the man she'd given her heart and soul to. When things had gotten too difficult, he'd bolted, never even saying goodbye and even after a decade, it still stung. His betrayal hurt as deeply as losing her beloved mother only months before he'd run away - and as bitterly as the miscarriage she'd suffered alone. All combined together in such a short amount of time had left her feeling utterly alone. She was now striving to push beyond those losses, determined to reconnect with the family she still had, and then maybe, just maybe, she could find someone to help mend her broken heart. And if magic could help her fill those voids, she was determined to try.

But at this moment in time, she knew she was simply going through the motions as she recited her ritual incantations and completed the mundane tasks asked of her. It wasn't hard for anyone else to see her lack of conviction either. Her heart simply wasn't in it, and as her lackluster attitude caught Zelena's attention, her mentor decided to cut the evening's lessons short rather than keep going with an inattentive student.

"How about we pick things up again on Friday?" Emma heard Zelena ask as the redhead brushed back her hood. Emma heard what she was saying but didn't completely comprehend the words.

"Huh?" Emma replied, startled by the query that pulled her back from her reminiscing.

"I was asking if we should pick this up again on Friday," Zelena repeated with a hint of irritation in her voice. "Weren't you listening to anything I said tonight?"

"Sorry… I'm a little distracted tonight and I guess I'm not feeling particularly well…," Emma fibbed in a feeble attempt to cover her obvious disconnect.

"Why don't you head home and get some rest then?" Regina suggested. "Friday's full moon will allow us to try out some new spells too."

"Actually, if you don't mind, Regina, I'd like to take a look through some of the potion books to see if I can locate a remedy for this lingering tiredness I've been experiencing. Would you mind?"

Regina thought about the idea for a moment, but granted permission. "Just stick to the newer potion books on the shelf under the mirror. Most of those ones are either already written in English or have already been translated from the original text. Most of the older books are written in Latin, Greek, Elvish - you get the idea? Your study of ancient languages hasn't advanced enough for proper translation yet so stick to the ones you can read, okay? Oh, and lock up when you leave."

"I can do that," Emma smiled graciously. "And I promise I won't stay too long, and I'll be sure to clean up and lock everything away."

"See that you do, Miss Swan," Regina stated as she undid the clasp on her robe and allowed the garment to slide off of her shoulders. She draped the robe over her forearm as she gathered her belongings from the desktop beside her apothecary cabinet. "Have a good evening, Deputy."

"Good night, your Highness," Emma quipped as Regina ascended the stairway towards the crypt above. Zelena smirked at the nickname as she followed her sister out of the vault and soon, both Ruby and Ingrid made their exit as well, leaving Emma alone in the creepy confines.

Hearing only the tap of her own footsteps echoing off of the slate floor, Emma made her way over to the towering shelves, teeming with an expansive collection of books ranging from spellbooks to recipe books to a weathered, and likely very dated, set of encyclopedias. She quickly figured out the filing system that Regina utilized and began scanning for a specific volume. Her eyes darted back and forth across the third shelf up from the bottom trying to find a book that Zelena had shown her a few weeks earlier when they'd practiced a few basic potions. She remembered looking at a sleeping potion, a memory potion and even one that was rumored to improve the mood of even the crankiest Storybrooke resident, but Emma wasn't actually interested in potions right now.

While Zelena had been busy preparing the ingredients for one of the potions, Emma had flipped through a few of the yellowed vellum pages, glancing over random potion recipes and spells handwritten in flowing Latin. She was still learning the basics of the language, understanding a few words and phrases that appeared frequently. Words that were unfamiliar were easily translated with an app on her iPhone, although she did know that just having the translation of the words didn't always help as figuring out the grammar could be awkward. She was determined to try anyway.

She located the correct, ornately decorated spine and carefully lifted the gilded book from the shelf, carrying it to the podium the Mills sisters had installed in the center of the vault, directly beneath the chandelier - one of the few nods to modern conveniences down here (although Emma had yet to figure out exactly where the electricity came from as there were no visible power lines around the mausoleum). She took extreme care in opening the cover, turning the pages gently as she sought the specific spell she'd seen before.

Nervousness began to overcome her, causing her to repeatedly glance back toward the stairs as she flipped through the ancient pages. She feared that someone might return to interrupt her and discover that she was perusing books that weren't in the officially-approved collections. She was taking a huge risk that could destroy the trust she'd built within the coven but right now, she had a singular focus.

It took a few minutes in the dimly lit vault to locate the spell she wanted but once she did, she picked up the crystal candlestick with its nearly fully melted ruby red taper from atop the desk and brought it closer to the podium to get a better view as her fingertip dusted across the flowing script. Her excitement and anxiety both increased exponentially as she stared at the spell she hoped might change her life.

Her brain immediately began translating the Latin text, beginning with the instructions preceding the spell itself. Succensa - set alight. Sapiens - sage. Roris marini - rosemary. She recognized the herbs and knew she needed to light them on fire as the smoke from burning them would cleanse the air prior to her reciting the incantation. She retrieved sprigs of both herbs from the apothecary cabinet and dropped them into a charred marble bowl then ignited them with the flame from the candle.

As the fragrant herbs burned, filling the small, subterranean room with their aroma, Emma continued translating the remaining text as well as she could. Verus amor - true love. That was her goal - to find her own true love and fill the void within her heart that she'd struggled with for so many years. Since the moment she'd stumbled across this spell, she'd been determined to cast it when the time was right. She had to. Why else would she have been gifted with these supernatural abilities if it wasn't meant to bring her some semblance of happiness? She wanted the type of love that her brother shared with Mary Margaret - that close companionship that just wasn't going to be found in friendship or familial relationships. She just wanted to be loved and have someone to love in return.

Alone in the vault, she began to recite the Latin phrases from the page.

Verus amor occurant - encounter true love.

Verus amor reveles - discover true love.

Those phrases she translated easily, but there were others she wasn't as certain of.

Verus amor agnocis. She didn't know what agnocis meant, but in the context of the words she understood, it had to be another part of finding true love, which led into the last phrase - Confirmare verus amor - confirm true love.

Once completed, she sealed the spell by pricking the tip of her finger with a needle and allowing three minute drops of her blood to fall atop the smoldering herbs. One for her, one for the love she sought and the third to unite them. Now, all she had to do was wait to see if it all worked - and get everything cleaned up, put away and locked up before anyone became suspicious.

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff au #cs ff #cs au ff #witch emma #a simple spell

35 notes · View notes

walviemort · 7 years ago

Text

paternal instincts

Emma's fear of pregnancy leads Killian to find—and use—a spell that allows him to carry their child instead. A canon-divergent CS pregnancy fic, just with the roles flipped a bit. (mpreg; rated T for implied sexy times) | AO3

A/N: dedicated to @sherlockianwhovian and @cocohook38 for their inspiration

Chapter 1—(Im)possibilities

Summary: Belle tells Killian about a spell that would make his and Emma's dreams of having a baby come true—but can he sway Emma? | 2.4k words

On his days off from the station, Killian was always happy to help Belle around the library, even if it just meant keeping Gideon occupied while Belle got work done around the building. He’d developed a special bond with the lad over the past year and a half of calm, and the boy’s shouts of “Unc’l Killy!” never ceased to make his heart skip a beat. He was forever grateful to Belle for allowing him to have this relationship with her son, but...he longed for one of his own.

He knew Emma did, too; they’d talked about it more than once. However, it was the thought of pregnancy that stopped her, and he completely understood her concerns after what she went through carrying Henry. And he knew there were other ways of acquiring a child, but the nature of Storybrooke had a way of prohibiting them.

By no means were they unhappy, and Henry was certainly enough for them; but there was more than enough love between them that they wanted to share it. If only they could figure out how.

“Unc’l Killy, no stop!” Killian jumped as Gideon slapped the picture book he was holding; he hadn’t realized he’d trailed off, lost in thought. There was something that just felt so right about having a little human in his lap that made his mind wander.

“Apologies, my boy,” he answered, and continued telling the tale before them—and a few others—until Gideon fell asleep, and he was content to stay there as the boy napped, watching his tiny parted lips and long lashes that lie on his cheeks while he slumbered.

He hardly noticed when Belle came by, with mugs of tea for both of them, and sat in the plush chair adjacent to Killian’s. She smiled gently at the boys next to her. “You seem awfully comfortable there.”

Killian blushed as he carefully picked up his mug, cautious not to spill on the babe in his lap. “It’s hard not to be,” he replied bashfully. “Your lad is just so sweet.”

“I know. Any changes on that front with you?” He’d confessed his feelings about the situation before to Belle; it wasn’t anything he hadn’t told Emma already, but it was nice to have someone else to talk to about it.

“Afraid not. It honestly seems like a dead end at this point.” He chuckled humorlessly, “Hell, I’d carry a child myself if that were an option.”

Belle perked at his comment, but then she shook her head, as if having an internal debate. He could tell that she was withholding something.

“Belle, what do you know?” he enquired slowly, curious at her reaction.

She started, a bit sheepishly, “Um, well, there might be...I mean, I might know where to find a spell that allows for just that.”

“Seriously?” His heart raced at the idea—though he wasn’t sure if it was in excitement, fear, or both.

“I came across it a while back when I was doing some research to...well, to keep myself and Gideon safe, before he was born. I can’t remember the details, but I can show it to you, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very, very much, love.”

She gave him a small smile. “Alright then. Meet me at Granny’s for breakfast and I’ll bring what I’ve got.”

It was all he could do to keep his elation at the idea from Emma that night; he didn’t want to get her hopes up if it turned out to be for nought. But he definitely reminded her how much he loved her, child or no.

The next morning, Regina arrived at Granny’s at the same time he did. “Your Majesty,” he greeted as he held the door open for her. She scoffed, as always, but he still noticed the slight blush on her cheeks. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe the odd friendship the two former villains had settled into, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

He followed her inside, and had just started scanning the room when Belle called him—and Regina, to his surprise—to the booth she’d claimed, where she was waving at them with an ancient-looking book in front of her.

“Is that it?” he asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice as he took a seat across from Belle. She nodded excitedly.

“What’s this little pow-wow all about, then?” Regina asked as she slid into the booth next to Killian.

“First off, can you put some sort of silencing spell around us? I’m not sure we want this overheard just yet,” Belle began. Regina nodded and waved her hand; suddenly, the din of the diner was gone and their words were only for each other. “Alright, Killian and I were chatting yesterday, and I remembered that this spell existed. I wanted to have you take a look at it before we go any further on it.”

Carefully, Belle opened the tome to a marked page, and turned and slid it across to Regina. Killian watched in anticipation as Regina’s eyes scanned the page, only going slightly wide when she realized what she was reading. He braced himself for a snide comment, but none came.

She turned to him, though, with a soft look on her face. “You really want to do this, Killian?”

“Aye,” he said solemnly. “How difficult is it?”

Regina gave him a small, wistful smile, before she explained. “Not very, but it does have to be done right. Here, take a look.” She passed the book to him, and he read the Elvish script as she described it. “This is going to sound a bit clinical, but basically, it would transfer the necessary organs over at the necessary time, starting at the time of conception and right up until the baby was born. Emma would have to cast it, but I assume you planned on talking to her first.”

“Of course.” He noticed in his own translation that the transfer didn’t happen all at once: some parts didn’t switch over until it was time to give birth, and some didn’t at all—nursing would still be Emma’s job. But thankfully, the spell would last indefinitely, if they didn’t conceive on their first try; however, it couldn’t be reversed. “Is there anything we’d need to procure?”

Regina skimmed the list of ingredients. “No, I have everything; and anything I don’t would come from the two of you. If you really want to do this, we can.” Killian’s vision suddenly got blurry; this could actually happen! He looked up at the feeling of pressure on his hand where it rested on the table; Belle was squeezing it in support and grinning, and he couldn’t help but return it. “But,” Regina started in a warning tone. “I won’t do anything until Emma comes to me with this. And think about it, Hook—pregnancy isn’t a walk in the park.”

“I know.” But he also knew it’d be worth it.

“And he’ll have all the support in the world,” Belle added.

“Just wait until the grandparents find out,” Regina continued, joking, but they all knew that Snow would lose her mind. “Think it over and let me know what you two decide, okay? I have to get to the office. I’ll see you later.” The sound of the diner rushed back in and Regina gracefully stood up and slipped out of the diner, leaving Killian and Belle alone with the revelation.

Belle squeezed his hand again. “Hey, talk to me.”

Honestly, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. It was definitely going to be a leap of faith, and he wasn’t sure how hard it would be to sway Emma, but he felt incredibly optimistic. All he could manage to reply, in a watery voice, was, “I can have a child.”

He spent the rest of the day taking care of the Jolly Roger, and it was impossible not to imagine a toddler running around the ship with Emma’s fair hair and his blue eyes. Or the reverse. More than once, he caught himself staring into space at the idea.

When he was done, he rushed home to get dinner ready, preparing Emma’s favorite foods in a subtle attempt to charm her to the idea, even though he was ever hopeful she’d be on board.

“What’s this?” she asked as she came in the kitchen that night, wrapping her arms around him from behind while he flipped a grilled cheese on the stove. “Are you trying to butter me up to something?”

Not as subtle as he thought, then. “Am I not allowed to make my wife’s favorite dinner just because?”

“Just because what?” she asked, playfully.

He moved the finished sandwich onto a plate on the counter and turned in her embrace. “Just because he loves her to the ends of the earth and beyond.”

“Mm, okay,” she conceded, laughter playing in her green eyes, and rose to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. “But I can still tell you’re up to something,” she added when she pulled back. “What is it? Is everything okay?” Worry slipped into her tone.

“Aye, love; everything is fantastic. Take a seat and I’ll tell you about it.”

She gave him a curious look, but then did as he said. She snorted as she pulled out her chair, and then joked, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were telling me you were pregnant.”

He paused, facing away from her as he picked up the dinner plates—did she know? Nerves suddenly filled his stomach, but he swallowed them down as he returned to her. After setting the dishes on the table, he took his own seat and started. “No, but...it is about that.”

The amused look on her face quickly fell. “Killian, we’ve talked about this—”

“I know, love, and I understand why you don’t want to go through that. I’m not asking you to; I never would. But,” he began to explain, having to swallow again. “What if I told you there was another way to have a child—our child—without you carrying it?”

She tilted her head in confusion. “What, like a surrogate?”

“Aye, I supposed that’s what it would be.”

“Who, though? Did you want to ask my mom, or Regina, or—”

“Me.”

Emma’s mouth hung open for a moment, but then she closed it, furrowing her brow and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, did you just say...you?”

“I did.”

“But...how?”

He shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Magic.”

“There’s seriously a spell that lets a man carry a child?”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually that surprised, love.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be,” she conceded. “But...seriously, Killian? There’s a reason I don’t want to put myself through that again, and it’s not just the psychological stuff. It kind of sucks.”

“So I’ve heard.” He was shocked at how calm he was, but Emma’s reaction wasn’t far from what he expected; he knew there would be some level of incredulity, as well as concern for him. But she hadn’t shot it down yet.

Emma chewed her lip in thought. “How would it work? What would we have to do?”

He bit back a grin at that; knowing Emma, that meant she was practically on board. “I can explain all the particulars after dinner; now, eat before your meal goes cold, and tell me about your day.”

She snorted. “Well, you certainly sound like a mom.” They carried on easily with the meal, even though the weight of the looming conversation hung over them, and Emma quickly cleaned and then joined him in the sitting room, where he was waiting for her on the sofa.

“So,” she started.

“So.”

“Tell me what you found.”

He cleared his throat, opened the ancient spellbook sitting on the coffee table, and explained the whole thing as best he could, using the rudimentary anatomical drawing on the page for help. She asked many of the same questions he had that morning, and seemed satisfied with the answers.

“Okay, let me make sure I have this right, and forgive my use of scientific terms: so basically, we cast this spell, I drink the potion, and whenever we conceive a child, my uterus will transfer over to you?”

“Yes.”

“But not my vagina?”

“Not until labor starts.”

“And not my boobs.”

“That’s not a clinical term, but no, not ever.”

“What about after birth? It takes a bit for that stuff to go back to normal.”

“Um...the translation comes to, ‘everything will return to its owner when it has returned to its earlier state.’ So I suppose that will take some time.”

“Okay.” She stared at the book a bit more, a pensive look on her face. He wanted to ask what she was thinking, but then she spoke up. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You’ve seen first-hand that it’s not easy, and there can always be complications. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she admitted in a small voice.

He took her hand in his and used his hook to nudge her face up, bringing their eyes level. There was trepidation in hers, but he could see the excitement lingering behind that. “Swan, our life together, right now, is happier than I ever thought I’d get. And if I can do this to add to that happiness, I’m more than willing to go through whatever it will take to let our love and family grow.”

The concern on Emma’s face had softened a bit, giving way to a tiny smile. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” she wondered, lightly teasing.

“Is that a yes?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it is. If you’re sure, I’m sure. Let’s do this.”

He had no words that would serve to describe his elation at her agreeing; he was almost laughing in glee and his grin hurt his cheeks. All he could do was pull her tight and place a searing kiss on her lips. “Thank you, love,” he finally managed to utter as he held her close.

She leaned back a bit and glanced up at him through her lashes seductively. “Well, now that that’s settled, why don’t we go get some practice at making that baby?”

He immediately felt arousal build within. “Lead the way, darling.”

#cs ff #cs baby #mpreg #my ff

50 notes · View notes