#incorrect lotr summary

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story)

Summary: Steddie Canon compliant/fix-it fic paired with a corresponding story in Steve’s POV, each chapter happens in tandem with the other. Eddie wakes up alone in the Upside Down, not knowing how he survived, and unable to reach anyone topside in Hawkins. Wounded and alone, he finds shelter at the Harrington’s house (the place is a damn fortress after all), and while hiding out there discovers that he has gained the ability to walk into other people’s dreams.

((unbeta'd snippet from Chapter 03 that probably has some incorrect information in regards to the Upside Down/history of the show but I haven't gone back to fact check just yet. Also remember Eddie does not have some information that the others do so there are missing pieces there as well: for instance, he is calling the Demogorgon a Nazgûl (because we are doing lots of LotR references, and he never actually saw a Demogorgon in the show). He is currently hiding at the Byer's old house, and ends up falling asleep there while the creatures ourside are hunting. This is the first chapter where Eddie doesn't dreamwalk with Steve -- but with someone else. And therefore learns that he can walk into anyone's dreams. Also sets the tone for the rest of Eddie's story. There's 15 chapters total, if that helps paint the picture of how much more there is untold. Another stupidly long snippet, but it will probably be my last one for Eddie for a while. I'm wishy-washy on when the fic will be posted, and the logistics of formatting dreams vs. reality, but more info will come when the time nears. For the purpose of this snippet, the dream is in italics and reality is in regular))

—

Eddie dreams, and almost immediately he knows it’s not his own.

After finding himself walking through Steve Harrington’s dreams, Eddie discovers they feel very distinctly different from experiencing his own. It’s less confusing, for one thing, and he’s more sure of himself and his body as he moves around within the dreamscape. But he’s only dreamed with Steve twice, both when sleeping in his bed in his home, and there’s something very not Steve about this dream.

For one thing, he’s back in the woods. Not the Upside Down version of the woods, either, because the trees are intact and the air smells less foul, and there’s a different hue to the darkness here. Almost like it’s lighter, more familiar, nostalgic to his rattled senses.

He spins around, hands in his jacket pockets, once again wearing his battle vest (he misses it a lot, maybe Harrington kept it for him) and his Hellfire shirt. His armor. His go-to outfit. If he was to be drawn like a cartoon character in Scooby-Doo or some shit, wearing the same thing every frame, this is what he’d have on. And when he looks out into the darkness, he finds himself alone. Very much alone.

But this isn’t his dream.

How does he know this? Don’t fucking ask him. Eddie can just… feel it. Like when you step outside and can tell it’s about to rain. The atmosphere is just different.

He can also tell this isn’t Steve’s. Steve’s dreams feel like wearing a warm sweatshirt, they are crisp and confined and comforting even when they are facing something scary. But this… this feels more brittle. More watery. Smaller.

Then, Eddie sees him.

A little boy, standing in the woods. The towering trees seem to press in on him from either side, the forest floor is a shag carpet of leaves, roots and dips in the ground that could swallow that kid whole. He looks so small, and lost. Eddie had been lost in the woods before, when he didn’t know that if you just keep walking in one direction you’ll eventually hit a road. So he makes his way towards the boy, and only pauses when his vision fails him.

Well, it must have, anyway. Because Eddie could have sworn it was a little boy, about nine years old, and then like a movie-frame shutter the boy ages a few years. And then the click shutter happens again. It’s very ghost-story-esque and Eddie isn’t sure he wants to get much closer after that. The boy shutters between ages: maybe 10 years old, then 12 years old, 15 years old, and back to 10. If he had to guess.

But his presence doesn’t go unnoticed, the kid turns to him and looks at him with wide eyes. He’s got a rather unfortunate bowl-cut and big watery eyes and is looking at Eddie like he’s one of the Nazgûl come to eat him alive. So Eddie raises his hands in the universal gesture of ‘I come in peace’ and – it takes him a moment to realize he’d done something similar to Chrissy all those months ago. Trying to make himself not look so scary for a moment, when he spends most of his time otherwise doing his very best to have ‘Fuck Off’ stamped on his forehead.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he tells the kid, who about trips over his own feet to back away. “I’m not gonna hurt you. What’s your name?”

The boy licks his lips in nervousness, shutters between 10 and 12 again, a courage in his eyes as he finds his voice. 

“Will Byers.”

…Oh, shit. 

Eddie’s eyes are a little wider, now, and he lets out a deep breath as he tries to gain his bearings. He’d fallen asleep in mini-Byer’s room, and now he was in his dream.

So that’s how it works.

“Will Byers,” he murmurs, still a little shell-shocked. “Your friends with Wheeler and Henderson.”

He blinks and the kid is 15, almost as tall as he is, looking at him with more curiosity now. But then he’s 10 again, fingers clenched at his sides, suspicious and untrusting.

“Who are you?” he asks, his little voice doing its best not to shake.

“My name is Eddie.” He’s usually good with little kids, and he’d get down to the other’s level if he didn’t have a tendency to switch between four feet and six. But the spark of recognition is worth the softer tones, because the kid immediately connects a bunch of information Eddie isn’t privy to. But he gets the same look in his eyes that Henderson does when he figures something out.

“Eddie who died?” Will Byers asks, confused, hopeful.

“Yeah, Eddie who died,” he says back, and wow that feels like a kick to the chest. He puts his hands back in his pockets and leans on one hip heavily. At least they still talk about him, topside.

“Why are you here?” Will asks. Eddie just shrugs in response.

“I don’t know, man. It’s your dream.”

There’s a noise off in the distance, a dark guttural growl and heavy footsteps – both Eddie and Will look to it, snapping to attention and not moving an inch. ((This is a dream.)) Eddie reminds himself, like he has to do every single time. But the Nazgûl and Vecna could probably penetrate dreams as well as minds, so who’s to say that the thing in the distance wouldn’t be able to hurt them, here.

Will’s back to a small child, the same face and wide eyes that had been on missing posters three years ago. And he’s looking up at Eddie, whispering so as not to be overheard by the monster in the forest. “Do you know somewhere safe to hide?”

It takes him a moment to consider it. In fact, Eddie almost retorts with the same line as before. It’s your dream, kid. But then again, Eddie did have more control of himself so maybe… maybe he did know a safe place. Max had hidden from Vecna in happy memories, right? Dreams were just a compilation of memories and imagination. Eddie knows how to weave a tale, so yeah – why not?

He nods, steps closer, and offers his hand to the kid.

“This way.”

The woods are dark and dense and kind of lovely in their own way. The two can hear the Nazgûl in the background, although Eddie really wants to ask what the kids called it instead, and as he walks through the woods he just… focuses on the areas of the forest he knew well. In particular, the place he set up shop almost every day of the week.

And like magic, it appears.

They step into a small clearing in the woods, and there’s the picnic table he had last sat at with Chrissy Cunningham. Making a fool of himself to get her to laugh so she wouldn’t look so scared of him. Now he knows she wasn’t really scared of him at all, but the hallucinations Vecna had plagued her with. He swallows thickly, not wanting to think about Chrissy now – not when his very thoughts are driving where they walk – and then they are rounding the bleachers of the high school football field. Crossing the parking lots, and ducking through the East Entrance doors. Will had changed again, he’s older now, maybe 12 or 13, and looking around in curiosity.

Interesting.

“Have you ever been here before?” Eddie asks, because he needs to know. If Will had never been to Hawkins High, then he wouldn’t be able to dream it at all. That would mean that Eddie could create things out of thin air in a head that wasn’t his own. Both a very cool and very scary thought.

“Only a few times for school stuff. The others knew it better than I did. When I was lost they had El do her mind-walking here, so she could search for me. They made a sensory deprivation tank in the gym.”

Mind-walking. Eddie is even more interested now, and he wants to pry every little bit of information out of mini-Byers head if he can. “That’s the girl with superpowers?”

“Yeah, she’s like my sister.”

“And she can walk through minds?”

“Kind of,” and woah the kid’s voice dropped. He was older now, and taller again – probably the actual age of Henderson and Wheeler and Sinclair. “She walks through dimensions, but she can also walk through memories.”

“What about dreams?”

He almost doesn’t ask, but he also doesn’t get an answer – because then they make it to his hideout.

Eddie opens the door to the Drama room, where (low and behold) the Vecna Lives! Campaign is still set up from the night of the basketball game. The night Chrissy died, and Eddie’s entire life with her. The stage lights are set low, he’d created the perfect ambiance, and the table is still full of the havoc of their campaign. Those little shits won by the skin of their teeth, all thanks to Erika Sinclair. He’d never expected that. But it had been such a wonderful, delightful surprise. It’s a good memory, and Eddie holds onto it, lets it warm his chest and ease a smile onto his face.

“Woah!” Will’s face is pure awe, and there’s a handsome little smile on his face as well as he looks over the entire board. “Is this… you did all this?”

“It’s the night before I became a fugitive. My last and greatest campaign,” Eddie laments, shutting and blocking the door (just in case the Nazgûl decides to take up tracking) and then circles round to his Dungeon Master throne. Flops down in it with his legs hanging over the arm, and relishes in the familiarity of it. It’s the throne the props people built for a few plays over the years, and Eddie had to beg the Drama teacher to let him keep it for Hellfire. It was perfect. Set the tone immediately. All the other players got little folding card chairs, but Eddie was in charge and this was his domain. The throne never let them forget it.

Will looks around the board with skilled eyes, taking in each part of the story, and then his gaze lands on Henderson’s seat, where the character sheets and books are still set up. He must recognize the name, or the handwriting, because suddenly he’s frowning. The seat next to Henderson is Wheeler, and the frown deepens.

“Those shitheads,” he mumbles. “I begged them for months to play D&D with me last year, and as soon as I’m gone they join a club for it with a kick ass DM.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment” Eddie tells him with a wave of his hand, like the royalty he’s trying to be. “But yes, that was rather shitty of them. They told me all the time about how you’d wreck the campaign. Your presence was missed, Will the Wise.”

And it was true. Henderson had often shouted to the D&D heavens when Eddie’s hidden monsters would destroy half their party and demand to know where ‘Will the Wise’ was when they needed him.

“So,” he draws out the question, wanting to get back to the mind-walking girl, but he can see there is something still bothering the little Byers. “Did Henderson take over the campaigns? Or did you fill my empty throne upon your return?”

The smile falls from his face like a cinder block, and Will sits down in Wheeler’s seat heavily, gaze still roaming the complex board on the table.

“No, there’s been no games since everything happened.” He sounds sad about it, but Eddie gets the feeling it doesn’t actually have to do with D&D at all. 

“How come?”

“Well, it’s kind of a… sore spot,” Will admits, and then he glances guiltily at Eddie. Who doesn’t get it for a minute.

Oh.

Oh, crap.

It must show on his face that he knows it’s because of him. He was the ringleader of Hellfire, after all.

“Dustin doesn’t even really like talking about it,” Will confides in him. “But he doesn't really talk to anyone about anything, we don’t see him that often. Mostly just at mom’s family dinners when Steve drags him there.”

“I heard about those,” Eddie murmurs, picking at the flaking black polish on his nails to mask the guilt clawing at his chest. “Good ole Steve.” 

“He’s trying so hard to take care of everyone, but I know he spends a lot of time with Dustin. And Max. I really should visit Max more,” he murmurs now, his gaze going further away, and Eddie isn’t sure if he’s waking up from his dream or if Eddie is actually losing him in all this maudlin talk.

“She’s in the hospital, yeah?”

“The doctors aren’t sure if she’ll wake up,” Will tells him. “She’s just… in a coma. El is worried she’s stuck somewhere between the realms, but everyone else is worried she’s just… gone.”

Okay, they needed a topic change.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Eddie says, nearly flipping out of the throne in a manner that might have been a little over the top, but it shook the sadness from Will’s eyes and that’s what Eddie was going for. Court Jester, extraordinaire. It worked on Chrissy, it’ll work on little Will Byers. (Although not so little anymore.)

“Sure?”

He fumbles upright, and sits down in Henderson’s chair so he can finally level with the kid.

“You were stuck in the Upside Down when you went missing, right?” He knows he’s right, Henderson had gone into great detail about how it all started, but that's not the point of asking the question. Will nods, confused but intrigued. Super. “Okay, so – how did you hide and like… stay sane? You were just a little munchkin and all but you were in there for days.”

“Time moves differently there,” Will points out, but then shrugs and thinks about it. Looking up at the stage lights in thought. “I hid in this old fort of mine in the forest, it was something I had built myself and it didn’t make me feel so alone.”

Castle Byers, Eddie had seen it. He nods and motions for Will to continue with an exaggerated hand flourish that makes the kid smile. 

“So, here's my theory – after talking with El and some of the others about it, and about how Max hid from Vecna – I think maybe because it held such good and safe memories for me, it protected me like no other house could. I think that’s how I wasn’t caught again.”

Now that, that gives Eddie pause… because his safe spot right now was Harrington’s house. But he had never slept in Steve’s bed before in his life. (Dreamed about it? Of course, but Eddie had only ever stepped foot in his kitchen to do business during house parties. There was no connection to the property itself.) So why was it safe now? Was it Steve’s memory that made it so? A combination with the fact there were no vines inside? It was a lot to mull over, and Will was taking his silence as a go-ahead to continue on.

“Basically, if I had to give any advice,” Will draws out, trying to see what Eddie was angling for. Yes, advice would be greatly appreciated. “The Upside Down is a direct mirror of Hawkins, so go and find the bits of yourself that still exist out there. Things that make you feel more like yourself, and less like you’re living in hell. Clothes or pictures or books. Something that’s not dangerous to carry around, but reminds you of home.”

That makes a lot more sense than Eddie had expected it to. 

He looks back to Will, and gives the kid a grin that is equal parts impressed and appreciative.

“Thanks, kid. I think I’ll just have to do that.”

Will beams at him, a little hero-worship shining in his eyes that Eddie has witnessed before from his little hellion sheep. But then a spark of something like recognition crosses those wide eyes and Will’s gaze narrows at him in suspicion.

“Wait, why would you want to know that?” he questions, and Eddie doesn’t answer. Stays kind of tight-lipped about it because… he could just tell mini-Byers that he’s alive in there and that he should get Good Ole Steve-O and Nancy Wheeler and superhero girl to come rescue his ass. But would he believe him? Or remember?

And he recalls how fast the Nazgûl attacked once he fucked with the lights. The gate was closed, opening it could open up a whole can of worms or whatever that no one was ready to deal with.

Maybe… maybe he should just sit tight, for now, and see if he can help them all out somehow?

((Where was all this self-righteous bullshit coming from?))

Analysis time would also be a problem for Future Eddie.

“Let’s just say, it’ll come in handy for me,” Eddie relents. A little hint. Knowing those shits they’ll figure it all out anyway.

Instead of elaborating, he extends his hand, and waits for Will to clasp it like all good boys had been taught to do.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Will the Wise.”

He’s slow to smile again, but it’s a genuine thing and Eddie takes it for the little speck of Gold it is. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you, Eddie the Banished.”

And Eddie knows he has Henderson to thank for that nickname, but he would wear it proudly for the rest of his days if he ever manages to make it out topside again. 

Although Byers might give Henderson a run for his money on ‘favorite child’, at this rate.

—

When the blood red morning dawn creeps in through Will Byer’s windows, and Eddie crawls out from underneath his bed, there’s a lot of thoughts tumbling around his head as he gathers his things.

In particular, the thought that trying to contact the other side might not be the best idea at the moment. 

For his health? Yeah, possibly. He can’t actually live on moldy food the rest of his days, however short that may be, but he has to think of the bigger picture here. Everyone was having a rough time topside, in a completely different manner to Eddie’s own, but that old saying really rang true to him – shit was tough all over. They were all trying to heal, and knew there was a fight on the horizon. Eddie knew that eventually, everyone else would make it back to the Upside Down to finish this fight. He just had to live long enough to see that day.

So… why didn’t he just use his placement as an advantage?

Why doesn’t he do what he imagined himself doing, and really commit to the bit of espionage? Eddie could commit to the bit so hard he got himself in trouble most of the time. No use switching that up now.

So he gathers his things, tip-toes through the house, and runs right back into the woods. He has quite a few stops to make, but there’s one he needs to do first and foremost.

It takes the better part of the day, but he finally comes to the trailer park. The chasm splitting open the Earth glows and pulses with an intense heat, and there’s things prowling all around, but Eddie stays pressed to the backs of the trailers and dips and ducks around as best he can. Avoiding bats and rats and dogs and what might be a cat-like creature but he’s not entirely sure. Margaret’s trailer is much further down the road, where he’d biked when the bats chased him, so her bunker of Doomsday materials would have to wait.

Will said to find the things that reminded Eddie of himself, so that’s what he was going to do.

Uncle Wayne’s trailer is split in two, but Eddie’s room had been at the back end so it survived – to a degree. He crawls through the wreckage, picking through stuff that’s burnt and probably leaking radiation or some shit (seriously how has he not dropped dead at this rate?) and finally finds the tiny space that used to be his closet. It’s full of shirts and clothes he hasn’t seen in a couple years, but at the bottom is an old metal tool box that he’d stashed a bunch of sewing shit inside of. Patches. Bits of old band T-shirts, and sure enough – he lifts the lid, and finds the very origins of his battle vest. It’s still a jean jacket, at the moment, with sleeves covered in patches and safety pins – he ripped them off the summer between his second and third senior year – but on the back is the freshly hand-stitched Dio logo taking up the entire back panel. It’s gorgeous, and he immediately slips it on under Steve’s leather jacket. He’s lost enough weight the past few weeks it still fits, but he has a feeling he might be ripping off the sleeves sooner rather than later. Because he has some work to do, and some weapons to practice with.

But not before he goes and retrieves the final missing piece of himself.

His sweetheart is lying on the ground, covered in ash, some of the strings rusted. He whispers apologies to her as he picks her up out of the rubble. She’s a beautiful blood red Warlock NJ Series electric guitar that he spent two years saving up for, and as soon as he clips on a strap and slings her across his back, he feels more at peace than he had in a long time. Will the Wise had been right, he feels like he could take on the world with these bits of himself restored.

Harrington’s house was twenty miles away, and sundown was in only a few hours. He had errands to run, a distance to cross, and a realm of monsters in between them.

But he also now has a bike (discarded in a pile from Spring Break just waiting for him to pillage), and his guitar, and his battle jacket. 

Fuck Vecna and his minions. This was Eddie’s world now.

Time to get to work.

—

tbc

—

Series Snippets:

- Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

- Subconscious (Steve’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

[thespoot]

Hobbits: *freezing*

Gimli: Alas, Caradhras is trying to kill us.

Boromir: ah, I see. We're going to have to dig through this snow to get back out.

Aragorn: Yep, let's go.

Gimli: I guess we'll die now.

Men: *keep digging*

Hobbits: *keep freezing*

Legolas: Oh wow, you know, you could just walk on top.

Men: *wtf keep digging*

Legolas: lookit me, I can walk on top.

Men: *still digging*

Legolas: look, I'm gonna run over there. Watch me! Watch my little elven feet, Dad!

Gimli: Ah, cruel Caradhras, it was a good run, but here we'll lie frozen forever.

Hobbits: D: *still freezing*

Boromir: Why is no one else digging?!

Gandalf: *this is fine, everything's fine*

[willowhaired]

Wild Waters - Chapter 1: Wanderer of the Sea

Aragorn x OC

Summary: Another rider arrives to Rivendell just in time for the council. She brings the scent of sea and thunder wherever she sets foot. She is not unknown to nor Elrond, nor Aragorn, but it might be her, herself, knowing the least about who she is.

Word count: 1,433

Warnings: mentions od blood and fighting

A/N: This was the first LOTR story I started writing and has been reworked countless times ever since. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I hope you will enjoy the story that grows out of it. (Might be a bit self-indulgent, but I have no shame.)

Also, I know the spelling of Eärendil is incorrect, but I wanted to make some differentiation between them. :)

Chapter 1: Wanderer of the Sea

A spotted gray horse raced through the evergreen forests surrounding Imladris. Those who knew their destination could almost hear the waterfalls ripple and smell the cedarwood mixed with the sweet aroma of elven flowers. If it wasn't for the soft breeze, humidity would have made the air suffocating.

The rider urged the horse on who complied reluctantly, quickening their pace in one uncoordinated movement, almost throwing the elleth off their back. She grabbed at the animal's braided mane, which did not earn any appreciation from her horse.

The elf straightened herself and took a better grip of her scythe. Her indigo blue uniform was distressed, and still, in the sweetness of Imladris, reeking off the saltiness of the sea and the metallic scent of blood. Lavender coloured eyes were scanning the surroundings with caution; their tint was akin to the moonlight, yet the flicker in them was much more raw. Like lightning.

She used her weapon to push an overhanging ivy from the way before taking a turn to arrive at the entrance of the house of Lord Elrond.

She pulled at the rein to stop the disheveled horse in its tracks, and rather clumsily, she hopped off its back. Wasting no time, she rushed up the stairs. Her eyes were still searching for someone, but now, in a quite different manner; hopefully, even.

The rider received a formal greeting from an ellon guarding the limits of the grounds. She did the same, but not before handing the scythe to the guard, then continued to storm towards the office of her leader.

Her walk on ground was not any more stable than her horseriding. Her steps were almost wobbly and way too forceful.

Mithrandir passed her, leaving a meeting with Elrond himself, but was too absorbed in his own worries to acknowledge the elleth. It was only when he smelled the foamy scent of the sea did he caught a last glimpse of her dark blue cape waving before the second guard closed the door behind her. A soft smile stretched his face, easing some of the wrinkles.

Fate works out in peculiar ways.

'Min Hîr,' she bowed, placing her right hand over her heart.

'Mae govannen, Aerandil,' Elrond greeted her with open arms. His expression was similarly troubled as Gandalf's; in fact, everyone appeared to be sterner than usual. 'Have the winds been kind to you?'

'Would they have been and we would have arrived before the moon waned,' she complained respectfully.

'If my memory serves me, Bregialph sails nothing but rough waters.' The Lord of Rivendell noted with good-humour.

Which was true: any ship she set foot on winded up in a storm, but rather curiously, her ships thrived in these unfortunate weathers, and so did she.

Ithil captained a fleet of defensive ships of Imladris. She grew up with the Haradrim after they slaughtered her town, before ending up in Rivendell. Knowing their ways of combat and sea fare made her a perfect candidate for the position, although it took a strenuous climb on the social ladder.

After all, she was not much more than a savage before.

'Min Hîr,' she continued persuasively. 'Although the weather does favour us, the number of attacks grew greatly. Rarely did so many Haradrim ships venture from the South and so frequently.'

Elrond's eyebrows grew closer together as he stared at his desk, taking in the information he was expecting, but wished to be untrue. He got her message that her crew would withdraw to Rivendell to recuperate, and he himself healed a few of the mariners. He saw the damage first hand, but even now, with Ithil in front of him, blue mixing with red on her clothing... No good news arrived to him today.

'...And I can't help but find that the ships departing to Valinor are greater in numbers and passengers as well.' She noted as Elrond was yet to reply.

The ellon sighed before answering: 'I am afraid our time here is coming to an end. Aerandil, it is not by coincidence that you bear my father's name. You will find that your arrival was at perfect timing.'

'Why is that, Min Hîr?' Ithil bettered her posture that fell due to the heaviness of their conversation.

'I am summoning a council tomorrow - and I expect your participation. As for now, you may go. Rest,' he sent her off with a gentle gesture. The half-elf bowed before turning to leave the room.

While leaving behind the familiar, flower-ridden scenery, Ithil met one of her finest mariners, Tallagor. He was wounded in their last battle, but not nearly as much as his sister, Díneneth, who was an excellent sailor, but not carved for fighting. She was still in the healing quarters, so the Aerandil gave the ellon's shoulder a comforting squeeze before walking down the arcade. They spoke none, and Tallagorn drifted off with his eyes on the ground.

Ithil looked around as she continued on her path. The setting sun painted orange stripes next to the pillars. It was such a great contrast to the shadows behind them, it felt like entering from one world to another. In her younger years, she did play, jumping from one line to the other, with someone. Someone she did not seem to find.

Up until now.

'Calithil...' Aragorn breathed.

'Aragorn!' She exclaimed happily, running into his arms. The man pulled her close and they pressed their cheeks together. A sudden ease washed over both of them as if the Sun rose and the Moon reflected its rays.

The tight hug lasted for long minutes; it was exactly when Aragorn turned his head towards her, did Ithil pull away. It took a second and a look of disappointment before the ranger leaned back, although none of them let go of the other's arms just yet.

'I did not find you at your post.'

'Is that why you arrived later than the rest of your crew?' The man smirked, and the Ithil looked sheepishly to the side.

'I did take a detour,' she admitted. 'I suppose you weren't able to miss those black riders.'

Aragorn's face hardened. 'There is great darkness looming over all Middle Earth.'

'So it is true... The one ring turned up,' she whispered lowly.

He didn't have to nod for her to know the answer. His grip softened around her elbows and her fingers slid lower on his upper arms. Fear circulated in their veins by their blood, but it wasn't a fear they generated in each other; rather, a feeling they shared. A feeling they both found uncomfortable to show in front of others.

'Elven ships leave to Valinor almost daily,' she said, barely above a whisper. 'yet there are just as much, if not more of the Haradrim fleet that sails close to the Grey Havens. The storms aided us greatly, but my men needed rest... Our last encounter was a very close call.'

Aragorn felt his stomach shift uncomfortably. He knew that setting foot on a ship was always a game of chance, yet this was a painful reminder.

Wild strands of hair framed her face, probably yet disheveled by the winds at sea. Her hair was silvery and wavy, as the reflection of the Moon on disturbed waters. But her clothes, they were darkened with blood.

He passed the healing quarters himself this morning; it was full of mariners. His grip tightened around her arms again as he pulled her closer.

'Calithil...' Strider began, when a graceful elf strolled in. Arwen's steps were light and airy, the soft fabric draping beautifully around her body, yet it was her face that enchanted all.

'Lady Arwen,' Ithil bowed as she wriggled herself free from Aragorn's hands.

'Aerandil,' She reciprocated the gesture, smiling absent-mindedly. 'Might I steal the ranger for a walk?'

The man was about to speak when Ithil stroked his shoulder reassuringly.

'It is alright, Aragorn. I must visit my men.'

She did not wait for him to reply: she was already off, letting the lovebirds reunite.

A sudden fever overtook her and blurred her vision. Aerandil leaned against a pillar as she was forcing air down to her heavy chest. She took a gulp out of a flask she carried with her everywhere. While she waited for the herbaceous drink to do its magic, she stated at her feet: one standing in the orange light and one in the shadows.

She forgot which one was which when they played. Was the light safe, or was it the cover of dark?

Did this mean she was half dead?

[awanderingtortoise]

introduction and masterlist

hi everyone, stil not totally sure how this site works, but please feel free to chat and say hi. below the cut is a list of fics, along with links to their post on tumblr/ao3. for drabbles, snippets, or shorter fics you might want to check my writing tag: #tortoise tries to write or #tortoisememery if youre here for the incorrect quotes/playlists/memes/any of my other attempts at humor. for analysis: #tortoise analysis ; the tags are kinda fucked w the search idk why i think the search works on my blog itself tho

stuff i post: grishaverse (zoyalai-centric), marvel, bridgerton, pjo/hoo, lotr

(all my original posts are tagged with #me; i believe you can use that to sort through them. or not i dont know how these updates work)

I only write zoyalai atm but requests are always very very very (i cant say it enough) welcome, though i may take ages to do so i will definitely do my best to write them out. (anything sfw is fine). i think thats all, will update this periodically. enjoy your existences

1. how we go on (ao3, 1.7k) warning for mc death, angst

summary: It wasn't supposed to be her. It was never supposed to be her. That is all Nikolai can think, the only thing he finds coherent and whole in his mind as Zoya lies in his arms, eyes bright and radiant and blood blooming on her chest.

or: nikolai and zoya both realizing they dont have much time left. takes place some years after rule of wolves

2. even so, my sun did shine (ao3, 1.2k)

no warnings, fluff

summary: A sort of reverse of That Scene between Zoya and Nikolai in the aftermath of the Tavgharad’s-- lets call it a fiery demise-- but less angsty ‘don’t gos’ and more nonsensical fluff.

in which zoya is slightly loopy and quite a bit more clingy in the aftermath of taking a sleeping draught, and nikolai finds himself rather concerned at her lack of spite. hes not exactly complaining, though.

3. laughter in the rain (ao3, tumblr, 2.1k)

no warnings; basically half-crack, half-fluff

summary: in which Nikolai is much too found of puns while Zoya is the polar opposite, and a young, incredibly chaotic Squaller child wreaks absolute havoc on literally everything. (from tumblr ask: how about nikolai interacting with zoya’s students and them finding nikolai’s dad jokes funnier than zoya does (though she does secretly enjoy them))

4. all i ask (ao3, excerpt here)

no warnings, pining/angst

summary: Starlight glints in her gaze, in the jewels that swirl in the waves of her gown. “What do you want, Nikolai?” she asks quietly.

“A dance,” he says, and though it has barely been seconds he feels as though he’s aged a decade. He forces an easy smile onto his face, holding out his hand. “Nothing but a dance.”

or: a king and his general, and the words they leave unsaid. basically angsty zoyalai ballroom dancing while they play their favorite game that we all know as ‘lets constantly ignore our feelings for eachother!’

5. a heart's a heavy burden ao3, multichapter, 5 chaps and 8.8k so far)

no warnings, post-KoS, pre-RoW pining and angst to come but happy ending

summary: There would always be part of her that wanted more; for better or worse, a part of her that believed she wouldn’t know true satisfaction until she had it, even as she swore off the possibility with every fiber of will in her. She wouldn’t become what he had. She couldn’t. And yet fear of it now roils deep in her gut, old and dark as the scales glinting on her wrists.

(Zoya struggles to control the newfound power she has in her amplifiers and fears that her strength could turn her into something worse. luckily, nikolai is here :)

from anon request: after trying so hard to make sure that she’s unable to feel nikolai’s emotions with her newfound powers something happens that breaks zoya’s concentration and she’s finally feels the weight of nikolai’s feelings for her.

6. as the morining comes (ao3, tumblr, 997 words)

no warnings

summary: "Nikolai, at this moment, has decided on two things: the first being that he is a hopelessly lost cause for Zoya Nazyalensky, and the second being that he does not think he will ever stop smiling again."  part one of a bunch of fluffy zoyalai oneshots ill post under the series waltz of four left feet

7. afterimage (ao3, 362 words)

summary: basically hurt/comfort post-breakup zoyalai in a modern au

8. its always brighter with you (ao3, 748 words)

summary: an excuse for me to write zoyalai banter. basically Nikolai and Zoya going through all the shit Genya sent them and doing the KoS equivalent of Say Yes to the Dress with Nikolai

9. stills of a life tied in blue (that is to say, tied to you) (ao3, 466 words)

warning: grief/mcd

summary: a little fic and musing on the ever iconic blue ribbon and the roles it will play throughout nikolai and zoyas life, from beginning to end.

[bumble-meadow]

I posted 7,581 times in 2021

851 posts created (11%)

6730 posts reblogged (89%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 7.9 posts.

I added 1,225 tags in 2021

#q - 488 posts

#beenovel's aks - 178 posts

#queue me up buttercup - 112 posts

#beenovel's asks - 95 posts

#picrew - 81 posts

#the hobbit - 73 posts

#the hobbit incorrect quotes - 62 posts

#lotr - 52 posts

#lotr incorrect quotes - 43 posts

#thorin - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#she says out loud 'you were always the bad guy' and shes done that every time she's watched this movie since we saw it together in theaters

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

A Faded Understanding

Word count: 733

A/N: I’m gonna be honest here. This is very much based on me and my hair. I thought this up as I watched my hair color fade from dark yale-ish blue to a really dark kinda blueish version of my normal brown. This isn’t really a fic, it’s more like an extremely detailed draft.

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for stupidity because himbos abound in this fic. WAIT, I nearly forgot, there are some F-bombs so be wary

Summary: Your hair dye starts to fade and the company gets… mildly concerned

Tag list: @elvish-sky @kumqu4t @anjhope1

My thanks to @claraofthepen and @elvish-sky for beta reading!

So you joined them after falling from your world with medium blue hair and while everyone was curious, they didn’t ask (and kept the younger/more forward dwarves from asking) because hair is very personal for dwarves and their thought process was basically “we don’t know much about humans in the first place and this one is from another world, it might be normal there or it could be extremely personal, best not to ask”

But then your hair color starts fading and getting darker

They start getting worried “what if she’s not eating enough, is she not sleeping enough, is she not resting enough, what if she’s sad, elves can die of sadness, humans here can’t, but what if humans there can, she seems to like when it rains, is she not getting enough rain, is that it? Her hair is blue and I mean she said it ‘watered her’ but we thought she was just joking, was she not joking, is she not getting enough sun, dirt, water, is she sick, is she dYING WHAT'S HAPPENING TO OUR HUMAN”

So individually they’ve been taking ‘small, unnoticeable’ steps to try and get your hair to retain its color.

Bifur and Glóin both keep walking up to you and checking your forehead with their hand without a word. This has been making you very nervous.

Óin has been asking you how you feel every time you stop for a break, which is just making you even more nervous.

And Bombur keeps giving you extra-large portions of food but you don’t eat all of it, and that just makes them more worried.

Ori has been getting very sad every time he looks at you and you’ve been trying to cheer him up by telling him stories and it’s kinda working??? But not really???? For a couple of minutes the stories will cheer him up and you’ll be like “yes, go Y/N” but then suddenly he’ll look even closer to crying than before and that makes you want to cry. (hint: it’s because he keeps thinking about how if you die you won’t be around to tell him stories anymore)

Bofur has been hanging around you a lot, constantly trying to get you to smile and laugh. He and Balin also keep saying things like “if you ever need to talk… I’m here”. This has left you very confused on numerous occasions.

Thorin has been having the company take twice as many breaks and won’t let you keep watch or help unpack and set up camp like he used to. Kili all but tackled you to keep you from picking up a heavy object and every time you dismount there are at least three dwarves ready to help you down.

The past couple of nights Fíli and Kíli have been rubbing dirt on your arms to see if it’s not enough dirt or something cause they’re both dumbasses so you keep waking up with your arms covered in dirt like “???? wtf”

Basically, none of them know the meaning of subtle.

You’re sitting down to dinner and they keep ‘sneaking’ glances at you. Finally you’re like “ok wtf is going on you’ve all been super weird the past couple of days, what’s up?”

Ori immediately bursts into tears next to you and you’re like “Woah, it’s ok, don’t cry, pls don’t cry, what’s happening, what did I do”

“Please don’t die”

“????? what????”

Thorin: “your hair color is fading and we’ve been worried it means you’re ill or sad”

Y/N: “That’s it?”

Thorin: “What do you mean ‘that’s it’”

Y/N: “My hair dye is just fading”

Dwalin: “Hair… dye?”

Y/N: “Yeah, like the dye you use on leather? It’s like that, only for hair. It just washes away eventually.”

Kíli: “Why did you dye your hair?”

Fíli: “KILI”

Kíli: “WHAT?!?!”

Fíli: “Don’t be rude, it’s probably personal”

Y/N: “actually I just liked how it looked”

Ori: ”So *sniff* you’re not *sniff* dying?”

Y/N: “No, is that why you’ve all been so weird lately?”

Kíli: *scoff* “we haven’t been weird”

Y/N: “...”

Y/N: *has a thought* *thinks about recent ‘dirt on arms’ thing* “Also, WHOMST THE FUCK put dirt on my arms?”

Kíli: *the oh fuck face appears*

Y/N: “Kili… what even was going through your mind?”

Kíli: “… in mY DEFENSE, I THOUGHT IT WOULD HELP!”

Y/N:

Y/N: HOW WOULD THAT HELP

Kíli: I DON’T KNOW

609 notes • Posted 2021-05-28 04:40:40 GMT

#4

Bilbo: *accidentally brushes Thorin’s hand*

Thorin: *grabs and holds Bilbo’s hand aggressively* Fucking commit to it

655 notes • Posted 2021-07-21 18:01:21 GMT

#3

Aragorn: *in a crowded place and can’t find Sam*

Aragorn: This calls for desperate measures.

Aragorn: *using hands as a megaphone* FRODO IS A WIMP!

Sam: *crashing through a wall* SAY THAT TO MY FACE YOU BASTARD

Aragorn: wait, Sam, I just needed to- Sam wAIT I CAN EXPLA-

837 notes • Posted 2021-04-08 14:38:00 GMT

#2

The fellowship responding to you, a gen z that fell to middle earth, saying “I’d die for you”

Aragorn: *grabs you by the shoulders and looks deep into your eyes* "You will not, I promise you that"

-

Legolas: *visibly confused* *thinks he misheard you* "I- what?"

-

Boromir: *Hugs you tightly to his chest* "I would rather you didn't"

-

Gimli: *Looks sort of frightened and puts his hand over yours*

-

Frodo: *immediately starts crying*

-

Sam: *staring at you with mounting horror* *whispers* "please don't*

-

Merry: *the facial equivalent of "?????????!?!?!?!?!"*

-

Pippin: *nervous laughter* "What the fuck?"

-

Gandalf: *you’re not entirely sure how but he knows the meme* Then perish

Rest of the fellowship: *staring in horror as you cackle*

-

Part two

Inspired by this amazing post by @trxblemaker.

1054 notes • Posted 2021-04-16 20:30:04 GMT

#1

Elrond: are any of you actually straight?

Gandalf:

Frodo:

Sam:

Merry:

Pippin:

Gimli:

Legolas:

Boromir: *raises hand slowly*

Aragorn: *grabs Boromir's hand, interlocks their fingers and brings it back down*

1651 notes • Posted 2021-07-27 14:20:34 GMT

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