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wakingupthetrees · 1 month ago

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the fellowship of the ring and how they are on a night out drinking (obvs tw for alcohol mentions!)

Aragorn;

likes a range of different drinks but tends to stick with beer

normally the most sober in the group, unless its just the three hunters, in which he is smashed to prove a point to gimli

drunk crier when hes alone

designated driver (arwen ends up picking them all up most of the time anyway)

holds his alcohol like a champ, never once seen throwing up even after the craziest nights

gets crazy hangovers though

Legolas;

loves a good fruity cocktail or wine

though he'll drink pretty much anything

and i mean anything. you could hand this elf a mixture of beer, moss and horse hair and he'd down it with an 'aight bet'

stomach of steel

somehow still pristine even after way too many shots to be healthy for anyone

only gets drunk on elf wine

hangovers? what's that?

the type to wake the others up at 7am the morning after to make him food

Gimli;

similar to aragorn, likes beer but will drink anything as long as its alcohol

gets WAY too into drinking games, one tease from a hobbit or elf and suddenly theyre 5 pints in

does not hold his alcohol that well, no matter what he says

passes out at a certain point and does not move for at least 10 hours. like he becomes a whole rock. just there. one time sam freaked out because he thought gimli was dead

wakes up in pain but soldiers through, makes THE best hangover pancakes

Boromir;

cider enjoyer

normally one of the more sober of the group at the start, then the first to descend into madness

is the one to suggest they play the drinking games, chaos unfolds

always ends up being dared into something dumb, later denies this

eggs the others on, also later denies this

wakes up with a killer headache

'im never doing that ever again' proceeds to do it again

'ill take this one easy guys' spoiler alert he does not take this one easy

offers to carry the hobbits home, they make it one street before getting picked up by the others

Frodo;

likes a good old pint from the green dragon

honestly anything thatll get his mind off of Things

happy to just sit and watch the chaos

gets weirdly philosophical after a few too many, dont let him near legolas they will start speaking in riddles even gandalf is lost on

always prepared with hangover remedies bilbo recommended him

Samwise;

the sensible one

also likes a variety of wines

likes to sing songs with everyone

gets anxious over getting too drunk

doesn't really know whats going on is just here to be with his friends and have fun :)

makes sure everyone drinks plenty of water and gets home safe

if he gets REALLY drunk he might cry over his potatoes. dont worry though, mr frodo, he knows just how to grow more even better next season

Merry;

another who'll drink literally anything, though he has lots of opinions and recommendations on what the best brands are

gets louder the more he drinks, especially once the songs start

him and pip are a 2 hobbit band, once they start a song theyre off.

on the tables, singing and drinking with a full planned dance routine to match

loves a good gossip, shares all the tea from the shire

do NOT let him and pippin start with the shots it will not end well for anybody

is one of the drunkest and yet never gets a hangover

Pippin;

drinks whatever the others order

a very giggly drunk

tries to sneak in a few pranks, always gets caught but no one really minds

plays all the games, sings all the songs, is just there for a good time

first to start singing, the first to get up on a table

needs to be carried home, will collapse laughing at some point and not get up

avoids the hangovers by just sleeping for hours and hours, always mia until the next evening after a night out

Gandalf;

prefers his pipeweed to drinking

though hes been seen with a glass in his hand at more than a few events

only person im the fellowship whos seen him drunk was pippin, who witnessed him shove a wild squirrel up his hat before winking and running away

everyone thinks pippin is joking, except legolas who's just been around long enough to think 'yeah that checks'

pip now has a phobia of squirrels ('but merry, what if he enchanted them!! what if he has a secret squirrel army!!')

#lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the rings headcanons #lotr headcanons #lotr fellowship #the fellowship #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #gimli #boromir #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #merry brandybuck #pippin took #lotr shitpost #lotr memes #tw alcohol #tw alchohol mention

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mileycyprus-hill · 7 months ago

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To Have and to Hold, Tenderly

Based off @gondorimagines post about Boromir cradling you in his arms after a bad day. I took a creative turn with it. This is also my first Boromir fic I've written, so I hope it's good. (Not gonna lie, it was a f***ing struggle to alter my writing style to mirror that of Tolkien when I've only ever written cowboy stuff. Did I need to? Prolly not. But I'm an idiot who does things the hard way.)

Summary: You're a Lady of Dol Amroth and have been married to Boromir for a few years. You're postpartum from a long and painful delivery of your firstborn child while Boromir was gone to protect the borders of Gondor. When he returns, he offers you consolation during your difficult time.

Tags/Warnings: postpartum depression, fluff.

It has been a week.

A week and the pain still lingers. It has spread through your body and evolved from its physical form to infect your mind. The pain of labor had left you frail and weary, your once vibrant spirit now subdued by the weight of motherhood's trials. As you lie in your bedchamber, weighed down underneath the furs and silk sheets, you hear the argument between guilt and apathy loud in your thoughts.

The guilt shouts at you, ordering you to get up. It tells you to be stronger than this; that a Lady of Dol Amroth and wife of a high-ranking captain does not laze about in her bed. She never accepts defeat, but stands up and soldiers on. For her child. For her people.

Apathy however, whispers that you have already failed and you'll never be strong enough for yourself, your child, or your captain again. Your body is ruined. Boromir may not ever return to Minas Tirith. How will you find the strength again?

The silence in the room feeds your inner thoughts. The grand walls and high ceiling loom over you, making it feel less of a comforting place of rest and more of an entrapping cave of white stone. The heavy, blue velvet curtains draping your tall, arched windows shut out the warm sunlight.

You wish to hold her, your newborn babe. That's all you can care for, to feel her warmth against you so you can feel something. Alas, she remains with your nursemaid in another room at the request of the midwife. To give you rest, she told. She witnessed your pain and anguish firsthand, as she stayed with you during those prolonged hours of pushing, screaming, crying, and praying for it all to end. You were near hysterics, anxious that your baby was trapped inside you. You feared as if you had to split yourself in half to get her out.

The midwife recognized your melancholy which lingered after your daughter's birth. She said to you this feeling will pass in time, or was it she hoped it would?

As you drift in and out of an emotional slumber, a gentle knock echoes through the wooden door, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the threshold. You open your eyes to see the familiar dark, yet golden hair of Boromir, your stalwart husband. He enters your shared bedchamber, his countenance etched with lines of concern and weariness from the battles fought at Gondor's borders.

"My dear (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled mind.

You can hardly contain the tears in your weary eyes at the sight of his towering figure. The sound of his voice sends a wave of relief. It washes over you, threatening to spill the emotions you've held so tightly in your heart.

"You've returned!" You sputter and look to him as he crosses the room with purpose, his arms outstretched to embrace you. With such tender care, he gathers you in his arms, his strong frame a shield against the woes outside your door.

"I have, as swiftly as my steed could carry me...I feared I had lost you," he murmurs, soft and low, pressing a kiss to your brow. "But here you are, safe as I hoped you both would be."

You nestled against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear. It's a comforting cadence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. The warmth of his cheek against your crown permeates your cold and weakened body and you breathe in his scent, detecting his musk that you've always found so alluring.

Lavender and cream from his shave, leather from his clothing, and the earth and air from his travels.

"How are you feeling?" He queries with a gentle hush, "I had heard it was...quite difficult."

Tears began flowing down your cheeks like a trickling stream after a spring rain. You mutter a sarcastic answer to mask the pain, albeit pathetically, "Difficult is how I would describe your temper. This was..." you pause to reconsider burdening him with your woes, "...something far beyond my imagination."

Boromir's warm hold around you tightens and he presses an apologetic kiss to your forehead. As the fire crackles softly in the hearth, he begins to weave a tale of excitement upon learning the news of your daughter's birth.

"When I received word that our child was a girl," he began, a fond smile gracing his lips, "my heart swelled with joy beyond measure. I thought, a blessing has been bestowed upon us by the Valar themselves, to cherish and protect for all the days of our lives."

Your heart sank.

"But what of your father? He did not appear pleased to discover her," You worry, remembering the controlling nature of the steward towards all things in his city. "Tradition demands a male heir."

Boromir replies, his expression turning solemn as he considers your question, "He may harbor...disappointment at first. He does cling to the ways of old, but he is a man of wisdom and honor." He pauses, a flicker of sadness crossing his features before resolve settled in his eyes. "I have faith that in time he will come to see the light and beauty that our daughter brings to our house, and he will welcome her into the fold with open arms, as a cherished member of our noble lineage."

He recounted how he had ridden with haste through the rolling hills of Gondor, his heart buoyed by the thought of returning to your side, to share in the wonder of new life.

"As I rode through the streets, I heard talk of you and our daughter." He smiles a breathless laugh at that final word, "They spoke with such gleeful joy, 'Finally, a girl is born in the Citadel!' It gave them hope, (Y/N). Countless people requested I send word of your good health to them. They love you, (Y/N). They are here for you just as I am. You are...you're their princess."

Suddenly, a drop of moisture splashes onto your hair. Bringing yourself up from beneath his chin, you look into his grey-blue eyes. They're brimming with tears and he makes no effort to slow his weeping, for he is so overjoyed he can no longer contain them.

"My journey was long and arduous," he continued, his voice a low rumble in the quiet chamber. "But fear not, my love, for I am here now. Together, we shall weather this storm."

And so, in the solace of each other's arms, you found a sanctuary from the trials of the world outside. For in the embrace of love, even the darkest night could be pierced by the light of hope, shining bright as the morning sun upon the walls of Gondor.

The soft creak of the doorknob echoes through the bedchamber, heralding the arrival of another into the sanctum of your solace. Both of your gazes, intertwined with longing and curiosity, turn to behold the newcomer being carried across the threshold.

"And now, here she is," says Boromir, his gaze softening as he looks upon the babe being welcomed into your arms. "When I look upon her, I see the promise of a future adorned with beauty and grace. A beacon of hope to light our path ahead."

As he spoke, you felt a warmth suffuse your weary frame, a renewed sense of purpose blooming within your heart. For in Boromir's words, you find strength to face the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that together, you would overcome every obstacle, guided by the light of love's enduring flame.

#Boromir should've been a dad #just to show he wouldn't be like Denethor #what can i say?#I'm a sucker for papa au's #just look at my red dead fics #Boromir #boromir x reader #fluff #fan fiction #lotr

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 4 years ago

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She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. ��THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

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ebaeschnbliah · 2 years ago

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Boromir stood up, tall and proud, before them. Give me leave, Master Elrond, said he, first to say more of Gondor; for verily from the land of Gondor I am come. And it would be well for all to know what passes there. For few, I deem, know of our deeds, and therefore guess little of their peril, if we should fail at last.

`Believe not that in the land of Gondor the blood of Númenor is spent, nor all its pride and dignity forgotten. By our valour the wild folk of the East are still restrained, and the terror of Morgul kept at bay; and thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us, bulwark of the West. But if the passages of the River should be won, what then?

`Yet that hour, maybe, is not now far away. The Nameless Enemy has arisen again. Smoke rises once more from Orodruin that we call Mount Doom. The power of the Black Land grows and we are hard beset. When the Enemy returned our folk were driven from Ithilien, our fair domain east of the River, though we kept a foothold there and strength of arms. But this very year, in the days of June, sudden war came upon us out of Mordor, and we were swept away. We were outnumbered, for Mordor has allied itself with the Easterlings and the cruel Haradrim; but it was not by numbers that we were defeated. A power was there that we have not felt before.

`Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came a madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled. Only a remnant of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still stood amid the ruins of Osgiliath.

'I was in the company that held the bridge, until it was cast down behind us. Four only were saved by swimming: my brother and myself and two others. But still we fight on, holding all the west shores of Anduin; and those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much praise but little help. Only from Rohan now will any men ride to us when we call.

`In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues to Elrond: a hundred and ten days I have journeyed all alone. But I do not seek allies in war. The might of Elrond is in wisdom not in weapons, it is said. I come to ask for counsel and the unravelling of hard words. For on the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me.

'In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying:

Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken Stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token That Doom is near at hand, For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halfling forth shall stand."

Of these words we could understand little, and we spoke to our father, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, wise in the lore of Gondor. This only would he say, that Imladris was of old the name among the Elves of a far northern dale, where Elrond the Halfelven dwelt, greatest of lore-masters. Therefore my brother, seeing how desperate was our need, was eager to heed the dream and seek for Imladris; but since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself. Loth was my father to give me leave, and long have I wandered by roads forgotten, seeking the house of Elrond, of which many had heard, but few knew where it lay.'

'And here in the house of Elrond more shall be made clear to you' said Aragorn, standing up. He cast his sword upon the table that stood before Elrond, and the blade was in two pieces. `Here is the Sword that was Broken!' he said.

`And who are you, and what have you to do with Minas Tirith?' asked Boromir, looking in wonder at the lean face of the Ranger and his weather-stained cloak.

`He is Aragorn son of Arathorn,' said Elrond; `and he is descended through many fathers from Isildur Elendil's son of Minas Ithil. He is the Chief of the Dúnedain in the North, and few are now left of that folk.'

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Council of Elrond

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the council of elrond #jrr tolkien #the council #boromir #aragorn #the sword that was broken #narsil #movie pics #peter jackson

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writingfromkitchenator · 3 years ago

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How did they first meet you? (Lord of the Rings Edition)

Request a head cannon

Masterlist

Aragorn – You were fighting for your life in Helms Deep, years of training being put to the test, and you weren't overly sure how you were still going, feeling exhaustion and fatigue settle in. An Uruk-hai had approached behind you without your knowledge and when you heard the cry, you knew it was too late. But the cry cut off and you spun, seeing a dirty and warn Aragorn, fury of battle in his eyes, and he held out his hand.

Boromir – On the way to Rivendell after he lost his horse; you were most amused when you offered him a ride. The two of you talked a little as you rode, but it wasn’t until you reached Rivendell itself that Boromir fully took you in, and it started a friendship between the two of you, with the promise of something more, but the journey ahead had to come first.

Gimli – Just before he left to head to Rivendell. It left him so conflicted that it took him a moment to decide what to do, despite the urgency from his father. You had travelled from the Iron Hills to meet with the king, and Gimli was left stumped. He swore that he would find you again, once his task was done, and while you’d found it a little odd, you also couldn’t help but feel that it was also kind of sweet.

Gandalf – It was many years ago now, in a battle that neither of you really remembered, but you’d been impressed by his magic, just as you were impressed by his, and that was all that mattered to start a friendship. After the battle, once all had settled, the two of you talked for many hours, and it was perhaps the start of something more.

Frodo – He met you in Bree before the rest of the journey started. Considering you were a hobbit, it didn't stop you working in the Prancing Pony, laughing and joking with customers. The two of you only talked briefly, but Sam, Merry and Pippin saw the spark there. It became regular thing during the journey that Frodo would mention you. You became a beacon of hope for him on those dark days, and he swore to himself that he would seek you out should he return.

Sam – The two of you grew up together, Sam the shy little hobbit, and you the bubbly, outgoing one. Neither of you really remembered the first meeting, but your parents often gushed about how adorable it was, especially when Sam gave you some handpicked flowers. They always had great in delight in telling you both that they’d never seen you more shy, and Sam never that outgoing.

Merry – You helped organise the welcome home for the four hobbits, taking it all in your stride as easy as anything, all the while running after three younger siblings. Merry hadn't thought much of it, too busy catching up with his family, which was until you ran directly into him after your little brother did a dash. There was laughter and great deal of awkwardness, and while only brief, it certainly left an impression, finding each other at the celebration and talking well into the night.

Pippin – It was about a year after his return, and he’d been trying to take on more responsibility for things, which others were both grateful for and still a little weary. You’d approached when several hobbits were trying to scald him for it, and, in turn, told them off. Pippin had stared at you for a long moment once the others had left, and with a smile, you introduced yourself, the two of you falling into a surprisingly easy conversation.

Faramir – It was after an exceptionally bad meeting with his father, and you found him upset and angry in a quiet part of the city. He’d been weary at first, as usually no one came out here, but once he realised you only meant well, then he talked it over with you, needing to get it off his chest. You listened intently, and provided some words of comfort, and for that, he was eternally grateful, and then surprised when you offered your ear whenever he needed it.

Eomer – He had seen you a few times over the course of your journey with Aragorn, but he didn’t get to properly meet you until his coronation. The two of you clicked immediately, and while he wondered why it had taken the two of you so long to speak, in a way he was glad, so that his memory of his first meeting with you was not tainted by the darkness that you all endured together.

Elrond – You came to Rivendell seeking advice, which just happened to fall when the decision was being made about the ring. There was more than a little surprise when you seemed to know all about it, but there was no malice from you, in fact, you wanted to help. It took him back, but he couldn’t deny that the help was appreciated, and that it had been a long time since he’d met anyone like you.

Haldir – You were on the run through Lothlorien, being hunted by orcs far too close, and Haldir had just happened to be on watch that night. With barely a sound, he and his fellow guards took out the orcs and got you to safety. You were clearly exhausted, but were full of thanks at being saved, not really remembering the last time you slept was. Haldir wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he looked after you that night, ensuring you ate and drank, and then finally got a peaceful night's sleep.

#the lord of the rings #headcannons

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

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Cold Shoulder

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this nor do I own anything recognizable. Also, I edited after a glass of wine. So. I think I shall blame any mistakes on that.

Word count: 2317

Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence

Request: Aragorn x Reader where he protects the reader but she is mad at him because of that and gives him a silent shoulder. Much fluff please (Anon)

A/n Anon, thank you for the request!! I enjoyed writing this and love me some Aragorn content <3 Also, for context, I placed the reader in the Fellowship. Okay, read on!

The sharp cry pierces the peace of the early morning.

“Orcs!”

Legolas, who had been standing watch and discovered the threat, immediately begins firing arrows, keeping the pack at bay. The rest of us spring into action, drawing weapons and shouldering our bags, looking to Aragorn to determine our next move. Despite the jolt of fear that runs through me, I know that luck is on our side. For one, our group had planned to set out shortly, meaning our camp is packed and we run no risk of leaving anything behind. Second, it was Legolas on watch, and his keen eyesight gave us critical early warning.

I feel a rough hand wrap around mine, and I’m yanked into a sprint. I nearly stumble at the speed Aragorn sets, but force myself to keep pace. A quick look at my surroundings tells me why we’re running — our camp is secluded, but there are too many high spots around us for it to be favorable in a fight. I can assume that we are making for higher or more open ground, so that we will not be at a disadvantage when the orc pack inevitably catches us.

There’s a muffled yelp, and I whip my head around to see Frodo tripping and falling roughly to the ground.

“Aragorn—” His name has barely left my lips when I feel his hands on my back, spurring me on, and he leaves my side, running back to aid our hobbit friend. Closer than I would like, the wails of the orc grow louder, and, at my right, Boromir speeds up, hauling Merry along with him.

The three of us break through the tree-line first, and immediately, an arrow whizzes above my head.

Damn it, they cut us off!

I don’t have much time to dwell on how the monsters got around us unnoticed, because a tall, imposing orc lunges in my direction. I raise my dagger and put all my focus into not letting the orc’s razor-sharp sword pierce my skin.

The shrieks and grunts of battle, as well as the shrill clanking of metal hitting metal fill the air. The orc jabs his sword at me, and I jump to my left. As the orc takes another swing, an arrow soars mere millimeters from my ear and imbeds itself in my attacker’s eye. I don’t even have time to shoot Legolas a thankful glance, because another beast catches my arm and pulls me against his foul-smelling side. I swipe at his arm with my dagger, and with a howl of pain, he throws me to the ground, raising his sword. I roll to the side, narrowly dodging the slice of steel, and push myself back to my feet. The orc is distracted, struggling with his weapon which is embedded in the ground, leaving the side of his neck exposed. I lift my dagger, and step forward, intent on ending this fight��

An arm grips my waist and pulls me back, moving me out of the way and slaying the orc.

I gawk at Aragorn, who, with the focused eyes of battle, rips his sword free of the orc’s neck and spins, killing a beast to his right.

“I had it,” I shout over the noise, unable to contain my frustration.

Aragorn straightens to face me, eyes wide. “Your back!”

Immediately, I turn on my heel and raise my dagger, pushing against the knife meant to impale my unguarded back. The orc is stronger than me, but if I can hold him off for just a few seconds more, I can reach for my other dagger and stab him in the stomach. As my hand twitches towards my belt, a sword passes around my side, impaling the orc with a sickening squelch.

Once again, I fix Aragorn with disbelieving eyes.

What was the point of investing all that time training me if I don’t get to use any of said training?!

The sounds of battle begin to fade, and, with a final swing of Gimili’s axe, the fighting is done.

We take stock of our injuries which are, thankfully, minor, and pull the dead orc deep into the tree line, not wanting to draw attention to our path. After the quickest of rests and a wash-up in the stream, we continue, Aragorn insisting that we cannot take any unnecessary delays now that we have orc interested in us.

We begin our trek, mostly in tired silence.

At the front of the group, Aragorn and Legolas do a mixture of scouting and chatting, seeming more relaxed the farther we get from the site of the attack. Aragorn doesn’t usually walk with me, preferring instead to lead with Legolas and keep an eye out for danger. Usually, I wish he would stay by my side, but today, I am grateful for the distance, as I’m not feeling too kindly towards him at the moment. I can’t stop myself from glaring at his back, resenting him taking away my right to handle myself in battle. But after an hour of lonely overthinking, resentment gives way to insecurity. What if he only jumped in because he thinks I’m weak? He’s probably not the only one…compared to everyone else, what advantages do I have? They probably all, to some extent, see me as a burden.

Gimli jogs up next to me, fixing me with a mildly concerned look.

“You alright, lassie? Not hurt, are ya?”

Aragorn’s head tilts in our direction. He’s listening.

Unable to contain my annoyance at his continued monitoring, I huff. “I’m fine, Gimli, thanks. Just tired.”

Gimli looks at the ground, seemingly unable to reconcile my usual friendliness with this foul mood. “Aye, well, t’is to be expected, after the morning we had. You fought well.”

I cross my arms, cocking my head to the side. “Did I? Because, as I remember it, I was barely allowed to fight at all.”

At this, I hear light sniggering behind me, and whip my head around to see a quickly composed Merry and Pippin looking anywhere but me.

Gimli makes a sighing, almost grumbling noise, and walks off to join his friends at the front of the group. Aragorn hangs back a little, waiting for me to catch up before resuming a slower pace.

“What troubles you?”

Getting right to the chase, then.

I huff angrily, my annoyance from this morning only growing now that I’ve had hours to stew about it. Because really, I am well-trained, I am capable, and he had no business neglecting his own safety to help me when I wasn’t in any actual danger. I had it all under control! And rather than feeling like a warrior equal with my companions, I feel like a girl who just slows them down and needs babysitting.

Aragorn stops walking and grips my elbow lightly, pulling me to stop with him. “I cannot help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I glare at him. Can I handle nothing on my own?! “Well, maybe I don’t want your help, Aragorn.”

He sighs, sounding frustrated, but lets me go.

Neither of us makes an attempt to talk to the other for the remainder of our hike.

{***}

We stop when it is well and properly dark, making hasty camp. I drop my bedroll and begin preparing for the night, cleaning my dagger and shoes as best I can. The others sit on rocks near the fire, eyeing me warily.

Pippin elbows Merry and hisses in a low voice,“go and talk to her, something’s obviously wrong with her.”

Merry’s eyes grow comically wide, and he fixes his friend with an indignant expression. “Why does it have to be me, then?! I don’t want to get yelled at.”

“Because I checked on Frodo last Thursday when he was in a mood, and now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t realize we were taking turns,” Merry whisper-shouts, oblivious to the fact that everyone can hear their argument just fine.

Sam fixes them with a pleading look before glancing over to me. “Miss Y/n, do you not want supper?” He hesitantly holds a bowl in my general direction.

“No, thank you,” I respond, cooler than intended. He blinks at me for a moment, and then hands the bowl to an amused Boromir.

I feel the weight of everyone’s questioning stares, hear their hushed whispers, and cannot take it one moment longer.

“I’m going to get more firewood,” I declare, tucking my dagger back into my belt and trudging deeper into the forest.

The woods are dark, but there is sufficient light from the moon, and I pick my way through the trees, looking for fallen logs and branches. I don’t stray to where I can no longer hear the voices of my friends, though — I may be angry, but I’m not stupid.

Less than two minutes later, the sound of light footsteps creeps into my hearing.

Aragorn walks to my side, bending to grasp and examine a log that might make for good firewood. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “Sam put aside some soup for you, though I would not delay if you wish to eat it. I saw Pippin eyeing it with interest.”

When I don’t laugh or give any indication that I heard him, he shifts on his feet, unsure. “I feel tension between us. I’ve upset you?”

I make a noncommittal noise and go a few yards deeper in the forest.

“Y/n?”

With a resigned sigh, I turn to face him, knowing that my silence is hurting him. “It’s stupid.”

Obviously pleased that I’m speaking to him now, Aragorn takes quick steps towards me, wearing an open expression. “If I have done something to hurt you, you have every right to be upset.”

I resist the urge to groan. Stop being so good and noble, it makes it hard to stay mad at you. I reign in my frustrations and sigh, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. “I feel like the weakest link. I’m the youngest, the only woman, I don’t possess any special abilities or extensive battle experience. I put a lot of work into being competent with my daggers, and still there are days when I question my right to be here with you all. So when you jump in to protect me, well-intentioned as you may be, I feel like a child that needs looking after rather than someone capable of standing her own ground.”

His face falls, and discomfort spreads in my stomach. But before I can apologize and take back my words, he offers his hands, and I take them gratefully.

“I did not consider how my actions would make you feel, though I understand now. Forgive me, Y/n?”

At his heartfelt words, my anger ebbs away. I use my grip on his hands to pull him closer and rest my forehead against his chest. “Of course.”

He pulls back slightly to bring my hands to his lips, pressing kisses on my knuckles. “I intervened during the fight not because I think you incapable, but because I wanted to keep you as much removed from the danger as possible. You are precious to me, Y/n. I won’t risk losing you.”

At this, he leans his forehead against mine, and I can’t help how I soften at his words. I didn’t think about it like that. “There is the slightest possibility that I may have accidentally overreacted a little.”

Aragorn rewards me with a deep chuckle, one I can feel vibrating through his chest, and shakes his head against mine. “Are you sure, my love? I think ignoring me all day was a completely proportionate response.”

I roll my eyes at the dripping sarcasm in his voice and raise a hand to smack his chest. Before I can get anywhere near him, his own hand shoots out and grabs my wrist — an act that has me grumbling in irritation and him shaking with laughter. Once he regains composure, he brings my wrist to his lips and places the softest of kisses there, watching my face carefully for my reaction.

I look away, trying to distract myself from the fluttering in my stomach. He trails a line of kisses up my forearm, and I scramble for something to say before my brain gets scattered beyond help. “For the record, you mean the world to me and I would defend you in battle too, if the need were to arise.”

His lips pause against my skin. I turn my head back to him to see that he’s, much to my annoyance, trying to fight a smile. Unable to school his smirk, he raises his head, still holding my hand in his. “I thank you, dearest, but I hardly believe that will be necessary. I’ve been battling for decades, I can handle a few stray orc.”

I step back out of his embrace, crossing my arms and regarding him with raised eyebrows.

He realizes his mistake.

“Oh—um, I meant, I—”

I shake my head. “No, you know what? Not ‘should the need arise’, I’ll just do it anyway! Next fight, you better watch out buddy, I’m throwing myself in front of anything that comes at you!”

His eyes blow open and his voice takes on a strangled quality. “Y/n, please don’t, that’s just unnecessary—”

“Nope!” I stomp away from him, picking up branches at random. “You brought this upon yourself. Get ready to be defended!”

Before walking back to camp, I turn to give him a sickeningly sweet smile. “I love you.”

Aragorn dramatically drops his head into his hands. “I shall die from stress.”

Our companions, who obviously heard our argument, roar with laughter.

A/n Thank you for reading! If you have a moment, I’d love it if you could check out my masterlist! Thank you :)

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years ago

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Dimension Jumping Pt. 5

Comforting a grieving hobbit and time get everyone ready to go out!

Via the genius idea from katzrfsoa / Kat88

There's been mention of the reader not wanting to take the groups out, for fear of the public's reaction... so what about a cosplay convention? it would give the Reader the perfect excuse to allow them out, and they would wear their original clothes

----

This morning has been uneventful for the most part.

Breakfast passed by without issue and now everyone is off doing their own things.

You looked outside and took a peek in the guest room, but you still can't find him.

Sam, Merry, and Pippin are playing a board game you showed them; Legolas is doing his meditation sleep thing; Boromir and Aragorn are discussing something; and Gimli is stacking bread on Legolas' leg to see how long it takes until he notices.

Frodo, however, is missing at the moment.

Right as you were considering telling the others of his disappearance, however, you heard some shuffling from your hall closet.

You open the door carefully and take peer inside, not wanting to startle the small hobbit, and at first you don't see him.

There's more shuffling and you hear a quiet sniff, followed by soft sobs, and you then realize he's hiding behind the shelf.

The door makes a soft clicking sound when you close it, and right away the quiet cries cease. You didn't want to alert him with the door, you wanted to do it yourself, but it's too late now, so you just go with it.

"Frodo?" You call in a gentle voice, staying by the door incase he wants you to go.

"Y-Yes?' He calls back, not moving from his spot.

His voice is thick with emotion, and the sadness in his tone makes your heart ache painfully. And when you walk closer and see him huddled up behind the shelf, your heart breaks a little for him.

He hastily rids his cheeks of any evidence of his sorrows, though the puffiness around his eyes and constant sniffles don't much help his cause, and looks at you with a false smile.

"Frodo, why are you crying?" You ask with furrowed eyebrows, kneeling down in front of him so you may look at him at eye level (mostly).

"It's nothing." He tells you quickly, looking away from your compassionate face with the same sad frown on his lips.

When you don't move to get up or leave, his gaze slides back over to you and he realizes that you're not going to leave unless he straight up tells you to go away. This makes him sigh, but truthfully, he doesn't want you to go away. Not really. For having company in a time of sorrow always mends suffering.

"I... did not have a proper time to mourn Gandalf. I've been so caught up in the oddity that is this place that I almost forgot my sorrows altogether, but then this morning is all... came rushing back." He explains with a surprisingly even voice.

While he speaks you cross your legs and listen along intently, your hands folded neatly in your lap. When he finishes, you reach forward and place your hand atop his with a gentle touch, "I didn't know him, but I can tell he was very dear to you. Honestly, I can't offer much advice, but I can tell you that keeping it all bottled up inside is not a good idea."

He looks at you with that sad face when you speak, and it prompts you to continue, "Also, I know everyone else can be pretty overwhelming or they just don't understand, and I want you to know that I'm always here to listen if you're feeling down, okay?"

Your words draw a small smile from the grieving hobbit and it elicits a similar grin from you.

"Thank you, Y/N. I... actually do feel a little better."

"I'm glad."

---

After your discussion with Frodo you rejoin everyone back out in the main room and let him recollect himself, going right onto your laptop to get some work done.

You're idly scrolling through a scholarly article you need to research when you see it.

An advertisement for some sort of comic book, cosplay, convention... thing in the area (no wonder you've been seeing so many oddly dressed people recently).

At first you almost scroll past it, but then you get hit with the brick of knowledge and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

"Yes!" You scream, successfully scaring everyone in the room and Penny who is sitting with you for once. "Ohh, my god. This is freaking perfect!" You exclaim, clicking on the link to get some more information.

Your eyes practically soak up everything on the information page, and, once you've skimmed through all of it, you look up with a bright smile on your face.

Literally all of them are looking at you like you've grown two heads, but you only clap your hands together a few times. "Guys, I just had a huge brain moment!"

The joke goes over their heads as per usual, but you don't let that deter you.

"Huge brain moment?" Pippin asks in confusion, looking at his cousin like he thinks he heard it wrong or something.

"Yes! I've figured out a way to take everyone out!"

That certainly gets their attention.

"You have?" Sam asks exuberantly, dropping his game piece so he can turn towards you and pay perfect attention.

"I have, yes," you start, continuing once you're 100% sure they're all paying attention, "So here's the thing, I knew that I could take out you tall boi's without issue besides having to find a hat for Legolas here, and I could explain that Gimli here has dwarfism," you pause at that and realize it may be offensive to him, but you continue once more, "but I also knew that there's no way I can explain away the hobbits, and then I found this gem."

You turn the computer so it faces all of them, but they only look more confused.

"There's a convention thing in town for the next week, and it's the perfect opportunity for me to bring everyone out! We just have to dress up the hobbits a bit and pretend that they're children."

At your explanation you receive multiple pleased smiles, and it serves to make you feel even better about your idea. "And you can all wear your normal clothes, too. And if someone asks who you are... I'll figure out a game or something you guys can use as an alias."

"Are you sure that will work?" Aragorn asks with furrowed eyebrows, sitting up from his spot in your arm chair.

"Um, like, maybe 98%." You confirm with a shrug, "It's better than 88% though."

He doesn't seem like he disagrees with you, so you look back at your laptop again and start to look for ideas to make them more believable as humans.

---

3 hours of research later, and you've successfully compiled a completely fool proof plan to smuggle this merry band of bizarre boys out of your house.

What you've decided is that you'll put some makeup over Legolas' pointy ears to make them look more fake since the concept of elves is not lost in this world. Boromir and Aragorn can go as themselves, and you'll put some makeup on the hobbits much like you will Legolas (they'll be children elves since there are no hobbits in your world) and tell everyone who asks how they look so good that you're a professional makeup artist.

Gimli, fortunately for you, was the easiest to come up with something for next to the other two humans of this group. You can just tell people he has dwarfism and that's why he chose to go as a dwarf character.

Everything is in order except for what you're going to do, though you suppose you should match their theme and be some sort of renaissance, maiden, lady, thing. You'll figure it out, though you do need to make sure it's convincing like theirs.

You decided to, instead of putting it off, go ahead and start working on finding a costume to match theirs.

A couple of searches later and you come across a really pretty dress that looks to fit their style, and when you show it to them they give you the thumbs up, so you order it with express shipping so it should arrive tomorrow.

It's a lovely flowy medieval dress *just look up flowy medieval dress and go to images, there are some good examples there*, and you feel excited just looking at it. Of course, there's no guarantee that it'll be the best quality, but it's got great reviews and you certainly paid a hefty sum for it.

After that's done with you head to your bathroom to see what makeup you've got, and you find that you don't really have any theatrical/special effects makeup. You're going to need skin colored wax makeup, powders, and contour stuff.

You're no makeup artist, obviously, but luckily for you, your goal is to make them look less realistic, so it should be easy enough.

It's surprisingly easy to figure out what you need to make them as convincing as possible, and pretty soon you've got a nice little list going on that outlines each thing you need.

Since you don't want to delay anymore, you head out of your bathroom and grab your bag while putting on your shoes, "Legolas, I'm leaving now if you wanna come with." You suggest since he stated his desire to join you in the one of the last chapters (:o).

When you call his name he looks over at you quickly, smiling a bit at your offer, "Yes, but you said I need a hat."

"Oh yeah! I have one, just gimme a sec." You tell him, walking over to a drawer.

When you open said drawer, you find a grey beanie with ease and toss it over to him, "Here ya go. Make sure it covers your ears... and uh, tuck your hair up into it too if you don't mind."

He does as you say with ease and, surprisingly, he looks just as good with shorter hair as he does longer hair.

It sticks kinda awkwardly at first, so you waltz on over and gesture for him to crouch down so you don't have to reach up.

Once again he does as you request and leans down so you may fix it.

You adjust it a bit to make sure it won't fall first, and then you smooth it back a bit so it'll also look stylish. And once you're done you take a step back and smile at him brightly.

"All done! Let's go!"

---

He seemed rather fascinated in the way your car works first and foremost, but once you got him to look out his window instead of watching you, his excitement quickly turned into awe.

When you both get to the ULTA store he follows you without hesitation and asks some hushed questions about things he sees, like the light up signs, other passing cars, stoplights, and some other things.

You, of course, answer each question happily and lead him inside, holding the door open for him while he enters and looks around the brightly lit up makeup store.

Right away you head towards the general direction of the nose and scar wax (it's multi purpose, don't judge me), forgetting to make sure that Legolas follows you.

When it does occur to you, however, that the blond elf didn't come after you, you panic.

You turn in a circle and only stop when you see him standing with some ladies who practically have hearts in their eyes.

Unconsciously you breathe a sigh of relief and head over with the wax in your little basket, immediately reaching up to wrap your arm around his, "I got the first thing on my list, come on."

The girls stop their giggles and flirting as soon as you show up and look genuinely surprised.

You give them a smile and nod in acknowledgement, not wanting to make them feel bad over something so silly before turning with your arm still around his own and walking him over to look at some contour stuff and other things.

They make some snide comments when you turn your back about you being a 'clingy girlfriend' and 'not pretty enough to be with a model like that', but you only ignore it and relish in the fact that you didn't make them feel bad over something as silly as a cute guy in a makeup store.

"Why are those women talking about you like that?" He asks in a whisper, leaning down so only you will hear his question.

You look up at him with a bit or surprise since you didn't expect him to pick up on that, before you smile, "They're attracted to you, and they think that I was being selfish with taking you away from their advances."

"Selfish? Advances?" He looks confused, but you only smile and turn back to the display case.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Leggy my boy."

"Leggy?" He asks slowly, looking at you in confusion.

"Leggy." You confirm with a nod with a distracted hum.

It isn't much later that you have everything you need, and so you go to the checkout and buy everything.

"Going to the convention?" The girl at the counter asks with a smile.

You smile back and nod your head, glancing up at Legolas before looking back at her, "That obvious?"

"No of course not, just the items in your basket always fly off the shelves around convention time." She replies with a giggle, ringing up all your items.

"Well, that's fair." You muse, putting your card into the reader to pay for it.

Once everything is in order she hands you your receipt and adds, "Maybe I'll see you there."

"Maybe!" You chirp back happily, liking the nice conversation going on here.

"You and your boyfriend have a good day now!"

You elect to ignore that.

---

On the way home you pretend to not notice the black car following yours and make small talk with the elf, answering some more of his questions and speaking idly on different things.

"There are so many odd, interesting things here..." He comments after a while, glancing out the back window. "Are you aware that, that car has been following us for the past 10 minutes?"

You nod and hum as an answer, "Mmhm, it's just Brian. He's probably trying to figure out who you are."

The blond knits his eyebrows together and glances back to look at the car again, "Should I do something about it?"

"The only thing you can do is ignore it. He went from lowercase 's' stalker to uppercase 's' since you guys arrived, and it'll only get worse if you intervene." You mumble, trying not to look in the rearview mirror at him. "It's fine."

"You don't seem to think it's fine." He challenges in the same even tone, turning in his seat towards you.

Instead of answering his question you look at him while you stop at a light and grumble, "I told you to put your seatbelt on."

"It's uncomfortable."

"I don't care."

"I will be fine."

"Not if we get into a crash, you won't."

The two of you stare each other down before he slowly reaches up and buckles his belt, never breaking eye-contact.

"Good boy." You coo in a way-too sweet voice.

"Anyways, I know we said as much before, but you needn't worry about that man while we're here." He continues despite your obvious subject change.

"I know." Your reply is softer and less defensive this time, for you really do appreciate it, "Thank you."

He looks surprised at your sudden gratitude, and his expression shows as much "For what?"

"For being you. For looking out for me. All of you."

This time he smiles and says no more.

---

When you both get back to your house you immediately put everything in your bathroom and get onto your laptop to view some techniques on theatrical and movie makeup, Pippin and Merry on either side of you while they view through the pictures and videos with you.

"That one looks interesting." Merry pipes up suddenly, pointing at a person to wolf makeup transformation.

"Yep, and way past anything I can do."

This pattern of going through pictures and viewing clips goes on for a little while until they two hobbits depart to have lunch, meanwhile you continue on so that tomorrow will be a success.

You're both excited and nervous at the same time, wanting to see how it'll all turn out but also dreading it incase something goes wrong.

You know the most important thing is to have a positive mindset about it, but it's kinda hard sometimes during your more anxious moments.

Also, there's the issue of Brian possibly following all of you...

Nah, that'll be a problem to think on for tomorrow.

"What time will we leave tomorrow?" Aragorn asks from his usual spot on the rocking chair, Penny still nestled in his lap as per usual.

"Around the morning. I bought the tickets already so we won't have to stand in line for too long... Hopefully."

"Thank you for working so hard so that we may see more of your world." He comments suddenly, stroking his hand down her fluffy back.

You tilt your head to the side and smile a bit, "You don't have to thank me."

"No, I do. You have seen to our every need and we no doubt pose to be a huge burden. Thank you, really."

His words make you flush slightly, and you look away shyly.

You've grown to care about all of them, so of course you would do anything to keep them comfortable at this point. More than anything you're just glad they see how much you're trying to make things easy on them. It feels nice being recognized for your efforts.

Plus, the added protection from Brian is pretty sweet.

"Anything for you guys."

#the fellowship x reader #the fellowship of the ring #the fellowship of the ring x reader #frodo baggins #pippin took #boromir #lotr gimli #legolas greenleaf #samwise gamgee #merry brandybuck #aragorn #lord of the rings fanfiction #dimension jumping pt. 5 #dimension jumping pt. 2 #frodo x reader

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lesbiansforboromir · 5 years ago

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Its been too long since I read the books and last time I saw the movies I was on denethor is a dick to my baby, let the man die. However, now I'm curious, since I remembered for instance that in the books he was devastated when he thought faramir died and your last reblog about that made me rethink my whole stance. Could you give me more positive denethor moments, or do I have to read the books again?

God I- I need so much for you all to understand how much I love asks like this, for PURELY selfish reasons, I just LOVE the idea of people like... doing what I do! Which is think about lotr and it’s characters and consider them in new angles and have fun with that! I feel connection and love in this chili’s tonight- ANYWAY.

To be clear, Denethor is one of my favourite characters, like JUST below Boromir in how much I love him and how furious I am with his portrayal in the films. I have a tag for him here that has a lot of good posts all about it. But positive moments for Denethor, yes ok! Lets start with my favourite quote from Denethor because it completely encompasses his- literally his ENTIRE book character;

In what is left, let all who fight the Enemy in their fashion be at one, and keep hope while they may, and after hope still the hardihood to die free.

Do you feel all the love and pride in his people and all the folk of middle earth who’re resisting this seemingly impossible threat? Even unto their inevitable end? Do you see the inherent belief that this is an unwinnable war, and yet how Denethor has remained Gondor’s greatest and most stalwart defender for all these years? GOD I do- ‘dying free’ is a VERY important sentiment that also puts a lot of his later, seemingly ‘mad’, actions into a much more understandable light. BUT I WILL TRY to not make this too much of a dissertation, god willing. SO! Onto Pippin’s swearing!

'Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew forth his small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.

A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed over the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand, laying the shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said. Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?' said Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade wrought by our own kindred in the North in the deep past?'

'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country,' said Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not willingly tell more of them.'

'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and once again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I accept your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have courteous speech, strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we shall have need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to come.’

The film really had no idea what to do with Pippin offering his service to Denethor as- well essentially an acknowledgement and an honouring of Boromir’s sacrifice for him. Because the Denethor in the film would have scorned it, but it’s an important plot point, so it’s just kinda in there awkwardly and uncomfortably. This is because Denethor genuinely appreciates Pippin’s gesture, his son died for this hobbit! But Pippin is fervent and honest and Denethor can tell! Denethor is grateful, he empathises! These are not traits film!denethor possessed, so we get the.... tomato... scene.... BUT ONWARDS, I consider this a positive scene, simply because Denethor and Gandalf’s rivalry in the books is just so much FUNNIER and interesting than in the films;

'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will. None shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief hours of sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return to my comfort!'

'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will die. You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not understand your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least, while I sit by?'

'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride would be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out such gifts according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should come again.'

LIKE. IT’S FUNNY! Essentially Denethor’s like ‘oh ho I’m just an auld man dont be angry with me Gandy’ and Gandalf’s like ‘Denethor when you are ENFEEBLED by age you will DIE out of spite alone’ and Denethor’s like ‘OH FINE if you want to be that way, but you’re bloody annoying to deal with and I don’t TRUST you wholly so DEAL with it,’ And again we get Denethor’s like whole deal! Gondor is what he is here to defend! It’s his entire purpose in life! He doesn’t trust that Gandalf’s not going to use him for his own ends to the detriment of Gondor itself, which Gandalf LITERALLY admits he’d do in the next paragraph. Because he says ‘he’s the steward of everything, not just gondor’ which on the one hand is like, yeah, we get that, but you can understand Denethor’s perspective too. WHICH IS. GOOD CHARACTERISATION FOLKS!

'[Osgiliath] was 'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which this was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side of Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms.a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which this was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side of Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms.’

This is just like a little thing but I think it’s just kinda important to emphasise that Denethor wasn’t just a politician, he bled heavily for Gondor’s safety too and the retaking of Osgiliath was an incredibly important victory that Denethor achieved for Gondor’s safety as a whole. Anyway SPEAKING of the tomato scene- god this really does entirely emphasise the difference between Film!Denethor and Book!Denethor;

‘Can you sing?'

Yes,' said Pippin. 'Well, yes, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs fit for great halls and evil times, lord. We seldom sing of anything more terrible than wind or rain. And most of my songs are about things that make us laugh; or about food and drink, of course.'

'And why should such songs be unfit for my halls, or for such hours as these? We who have lived long under the Shadow may surely listen to echoes from a land untroubled by it? Then we may feel that our vigil was not fruitless, though it may have been thankless.'

In the end Pipping doesn’t sing for him but like?? Look SEE LIKE. It’s not MEAN, Denethor is in general sardonic and kinda harsh and frustrating in tone but he’s not dismissive or uncharitable or heartless; he’s interested, he likes TALKING to Pippin, he likes to hear about the world! Songs about food and drink and weather are fine! Of course they have merit!

'Not – the Dark Lord?' cried Pippin, forgetting his place in his terror. Denethor laughed bitterly. 'Nay, not yet, Master Peregrin! He will not come save only to triumph over me when all is won. He uses others as his weapons. So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit here in my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons? For I can still wield a brand.'

Do you hEAR the bitterness in these lines? How he has to SIT here and WAIT as he sends his loved ones to die- but he has too, he HAS to do this, it’s not new, he’s been sending his sons to their probably deaths for years, and god he wishes he could be a reckless man and just ride out himself again but there IS no one to step into his place if he should be lost and Gondor just can’t take that! IT’S cOMPELLING. And so... now we’ll end on the part you mentioned, which really is like... AGONISING, it’s heartbreaking, especially after Denethor’s manners and character up until this point, sharp, sardonic, dauntless, uncowed by ever new loss, every new defeat, Boromir’s death even did not crack him completely but now-

And as [Pippin] watched, it seemed to him that Denethor grew old before his eyes, as if something had snapped in his proud will, and his stern mind was overthrown. Grief maybe had wrought it, and remorse. He saw tears on that once tearless face, more unbearable than wrath.

'Do not weep, lord,' he stammered. 'Perhaps he will get well. Have you asked Gandalf?'

'Comfort me not with wizards!' said Denethor. 'The fool's hope has failed. The Enemy has found it, and now his power waxes; he sees our very thoughts, and all we do is ruinous.

'I sent my son forth, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril, and here he lies with poison in his veins. Nay, nay, whatever may now betide in war, my line too is ending, even the House of the Stewards has failed. Mean folk shall rule the last remnant of the Kings of Men, lurking in the hills until all are hounded out.'

Men came to the door crying for the Lord of the City. 'Nay, I will not come down,' he said. 'I must stay beside my son. He might still speak before the end. But that is near. Follow whom you will, even the Grey Fool, though his hope has failed. Here I stay.'

I’ll NEVER forgive the appropriation of the ‘my line is ending’ line, he doesn’t MEAN that he’s grieving the loss of his lineage, he’s grieving the loss of his WHOLE COUNTRY, of his people! As well as his son! And in this final moment with him his priorities of heart surface, where his people are banging desperately at his door, begging for their Lord to come to their aide, he refuses, because Faramir is far more important to him in this moment.

I said I wasn’t going to make this a dissertation but WHATEVER, there you are anon, hope it’s what you wanted than thANK YOU AGAIN for the ask :)

#denethor #tolkien #erran vs tolkien #chats #Anonymous

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abrazimir · 4 years ago

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Send a symbol for a situation - Accepting @valorshwn sent - ❖ My muse accidentally falls asleep against yours.

Carefully, Boromir maneuvered around the cool almond cordial in his hand to stretch his shoulders and back. His family were too lost in their thoughts to notice his wince, which was by design. “-Sirgon will not want our sympathy, has he even acknowledged she is gone?” Denethor’s look at his sister was disapproving, but Boromir could not say his aunt was wrong, “He made it plain he wished for no word of it from me,” he sighed, “but perhaps words from his cousins would be received differently. Lady Laegeth requested you not leave him to his own devices.”

“Is that not what she is doing?” Terenis growled under her breath, though it still drew a rare scowl from Vanyalos, “Terenis, she has lost her daughter.”

“So she leaves her husband?”

“Terenis-”

“I know, I am being unkind. I know.”

“And he has mother with him, he is not alone.”

“That is worse than being alone-”

Boromir’s legs had remembered solid ground again about halfway to home. A month warring at sea and then days journeying up the Anduin had left him teetering with every step from a dock, which was part of why he had chosen to walk the distance from Osgiliath to Minas Tirith’s gates. It had also been the few hours of quiet he had needed before being welcomed home by a worried family. He had been surprised to see even his Aunt Terenis had journeyed from Tumladen to stay with her brother.

And speaking of brothers... Boromir realised suddenly that Faramir had become a dead weight against his shoulder. His even breathing was so slow it was barely perceptible and to look at his sleeping face you couldn’t imagine the problems he could cause. Despite the mournful and aggrieved atmosphere in the Tower of Ecthelion tonight, Boromir couldn’t help his smirk. This was a far cry from the six foot teenager whom had leaped at him the moment he was through the gates. He had barely caught the boy in time.

“He has not slept since you departed.”

Denethor’s voice broke through his reverie and he looked up to see his father looking over them both with an expression close to fond. Boromir sighed, finding the words to reply a moment later, “That is no good, I will be gone again soon enough.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Denethor’s expression did not show pain, but it showed the suppression of it. And Boromir’s gut clenched as even that grated over his raw nerves. He wondered if Denethor also hadn’t slept while he was gone, he wondered how much time he had spent at the peak of this tower. All too much, too much to hold when he was holding everything else.

He had looked away, and so did not see Denethor reach to pass a paper dry and gnarled hand over Faramir’s head, “he will adapt,” Denethor murmured, which drew back Boromir’s eye. Denethor began edging his arms under and around Faramir’s limp body and he hushed Boromir with a look before he could protest. “Find your own rest my son,” he said as he pulled a still-sleeping Faramir up and to his chest, “you do not need to hold the mourning watches with us, Siriel has already heard your farewells.”

Terenis and Vanyalos nodded in agreement with their little brother the moment Boromir turned to look at them. Finding himself out-voted and crushingly tired, he decided to concede to an easy defeat, just this once. Though, he still stole his brother from his father’s arms to put him to bed himself.

#;;asks #valorshwn #;;v: I will see gondor restored #about:denethor #about:terenis #about:vanyalos #about:faramir #THIS ONE ALSO got very away from me #this might be completely incomprehensible there are like 10 different plots that I made up from whole cloth running in here #Sirgon is lord of pelargir and Denethor and terenis and vanyalos' maternal cousin #siriel is his daughter who died in a corsair siege of the city #laegeth leaves him because of it #they already lost their youngest son #not leave as in divorce she just goes back to live with her family in Cair andros

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a-simple-lee · 6 years ago

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A game of stealth

Legolas, reader, Pippin, Merry, Aragorn

Description: you make a bet with Pippin that you simply have to win, though this comes at a cost for Legolas that he isn’t entirely happy with.

A/n: oof this is the first non-marvel fic I’ve written in literal months and it feels so weird lmao

________________________

“Do you think it’s possible to sneak up on the Elf?” You ponder out loud, bored after the long hours of walking through thankfully safe yet plain country. Fields and sparse woods stretch ahead of your party as far as the eye can see, and whilst you’re grateful for the respite from the violence and danger, trudging for days without a change in scenery is starting to dampen your spirits. There are no orcs or goblins (nor trolls) in these lands, so the Fellowship is taking advantage of the easier terrain by travelling for shorter periods and setting up camp earlier each night.

“For you? No,” Pippin snorts, highly entertained by the concept of a human trying to be sneaky.

“I think I could,” you respond, glancing at your elven companion; he’s slightly ahead of everyone, talking with Aragorn.

Merry sidles up from behind you. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s hard enough to do so as a hobbit.”

“Then I shall remind you how easy it was once I’ve accomplished it,” you grin, feeling rather confident. “I’ll show you.”

Over the course of five or so minutes, you make your way swiftly through the party’s marching order, taking advantage of a couple trees for cover every now and then. Gimli gives you an odd look, but you press a finger to your lips in warning, and he returns to his conversation with Sam.

The weather’s working in your favour; you stand downwind of the party’s trackers, and the breeze is enough to rustle the local flora into a distracting white noise. Perhaps, you think, there’s a chance you could pull this off. There’s only a few feet between you and the Elf now, who seems rather unaware. You move to place a hand on his shoulder from behind. He reaches up and grabs your wrist before you can touch him.

“Yes, little one?”

You frown. His lips quirk in an almost-smile.

“…why do you call me that? I’m no Shirefolk.”

“You spend long hours with them,” he counters.

“I suppose,” you admit; the Hobbits hold a special place in your heart as simply good people. They only ever wish to help others, and you admire their willpower. That, and Merry and Pippin tell excellent jokes.

“Do you require something?” Legolas is looking at you curiously.

“He is a wood-elf,” Pippin smiles as you return, casting a pointed glance towards the trees.

“Alright, I suppose it’s difficult.” The atmosphere turns quiet for a period after that, your trio remaining silent save for a few jibes from your halfling friends.

Later in the day, when the afternoon approaches sunset, you set up camp, sheltered in a sort of valley with large boulders scattered about.

“This should be safe,” Gandalf advises. “There’s no life here for miles.”

As time progresses, the Fellowship sits in small groups, exchanging stories and preparing for the night.

“What were you talking about earlier?” Frodo asks. “I saw you acting suspicious with Pippin, and that’s never a good sign.”

“Why,” you start, not sure whether to be honoured or offended by the accusation. “We were just discussing a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Yes-” you cast a cursory glance around the camp; the Elf is preoccupied speaking with Gimli.

“Merry and Pippin think I can’t sneak up on Legolas.” At this, Frodo narrows his eyes. “Oh, do have some faith in me!”

“-He shouldn’t, little one.” A voice from close behind you catches you off guard. You yelp, flinching and turning around to face your sylvan companion, who has drifted noiselessly over whilst you were talking.

“Legolas, I-” Merry and Pippin are laughing, but you ignore them. “I have committed to a goal, and I intend to reach it.”

“You make more noise than our halflings, little one - you’d do well to spend more time with them, and then perhaps you’ll learn to step quieter.”

“I can step quietly!” You protest. “I’ll get better!”

Several failed attempts follow this conversation, the most notable one being by your campfire in the evening, where Legolas turns to face you before you’ve gotten within 5 feet of him. The rest of your party is finding the debacle rather entertaining, much to your dismay.

“Very well,” you huff, sitting down next to Aragorn & Boromir. “If I need to learn, teach me. You’re a ranger, Aragorn - surely you have some advice.” He lets out a chuckle, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Do not step on twigs; they make a great deal of noise.” You roll your eyes. “And stop being so careless in your movements; they’re clumsy.”

Despite the slightly patronising tone, Aragorn appears somewhat sincere.

“Thank you,” Rising from the campfire, you move to unpack your bed roll.

Morning greets you with a golden sunrise and birdsong - a luxury on your adventure. It appears you’re the last one to wake; everyone else is sat eating a breakfast of Lembas bread and dried fruits. The idea to practise your sneaking skills occurs to you - nobody’s noticed you’re awake yet, so you take the opportunity to clamber from your bed roll and cautiously tiptoe behind the rock Legolas is sitting on. Your breath is suspended, hanging in your lungs as you will no one to see you.

Nobody does, it seems, as you draw closer to your elf. The unexpected success feels suspicious. You haven’t thought about what you’ll do if you managed to sneak up on Legolas, so you spend about half a second pondering your next steps. It’s probably best to make your victory known to the party, hence a loud noise will suit the situation, you decide. In the relative quiet of the countryside, any sudden commotion will quickly gain attention, and then you shall have proved everyone wrong.

So you find yourself reaching forwards and fluttering your fingers over the elf’s neck.

What sounds like a genuine yelp of surprise escapes from Legolas, and he twitches away from your hands. The feeling of 8 pairs of eyes on the both of you reassures you of your victory. Though when the yelp dissolves into a giggle, your glee turns to curiosity.

“Good morning!” You laugh, giddy with the knowledge you’ve finally proved the hobbits incorrect.

“Good morning,” Legolas blinks, seeming taken aback by your ambush.

“Ticklish?” you tease, poking him in the side. The elf takes your hand, smiling calmly.

“Be careful,” he warns. “I’m happy to leave you this victory, though if you try that again, I can’t promise I won’t take my revenge.”

“I’m not ticklish,” you bluff, sneaking an arm behind your friend to tweak his ribs. He yelps again, this time attracting the attention of Merry and Pippin. The pair of them are overjoyed at this turn of events; or, more importantly, the mischief that will result from it. Legolas gives you a look of betrayal, but you ignore it and trot off to pack up your things, a victorious human. It isn’t long before you hear laughter and shouting from behind you.

You don’t remember Legolas’ words until the evening, since the rest of the day passes rather uneventfully. Whilst the terrain has become rockier, there’s still no sign of the peace ending, which is both reassuring and infuriating. You spar with the Aragorn whilst the others set down their belongings, but it isn’t long before he’s called away by Frodo. You sit down and begin unpacking your things, making yourself comfortable for the night. Sunset is fast approaching, and Gimli has taken Sam to look for food.

There’s not much for you to do, so you sit weaving some long blades of grass into a pattern. The activity distracts you from the clattering of equipment around you, and for a moment it’s as if you’re not even travelling, but sitting in a garden somewhere. Thoughts of danger and the trauma of the past few weeks slip away as your muscle memory takes over, repeating the same knots over and over, your little craft project growing increasingly elaborate. Flowers dot the ground next to the rock you’re sitting on, so you pick a few and weave them in, eventually tying off the braid and examining it. Not bad.

Somebody tackles you from behind, the woven bracelet falling from your grip and hands try to grab your wrists; you fight them off. You’re about to call for help when you finally stop to look up at your attacker; it’s the elf.

“Legolas, what are you-”

“I did warn you,” He states simply, trying to gain the upper hand in your impromptu wrestling match. The pieces fall into place inside your head, and suddenly this fight has higher stakes. You scramble out from under him and sprint as fast as you can, accidentally bumping into Merry on the way and yelling a rushed apology in his direction as you flee.

Behind this boulder, around this corner, down this ledge- oh no. A hand grabs your arm, and down you fall, Legolas immediately skittering his fingers over your sides.

“Ah- don’t!”

“I thought you weren’t ticklish, little one.” He smiles, and you bat at his hands in frustration.

“I’m- I’m nohohot!” To your misfortune, Legolas appears to be a deft tickler, and when he tweaks your ribs, your resolve breaks. It’s only downhill from there, the elf quickly figuring out your weak spots and using them to his advantage.

“Ahahaha-okahahahay, I yihihield! Ihihihi’m sorry!” You cry, scrunching up your neck when one hand moves to spider over the sensitive skin there.

“I didn’t ask for an apology,” he responds, squeezing your side with his other hand. By the time Legolas takes pity on you and lets you up, there are tears of mirth forming in your eyes.

You can sneak up on an elf, but you can’t outrun one, it seems.

#tickle fic #lotr #reader insert #ticklish!reader #ler!legolas #legolas #pippin #merry #aragorn

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thatfairyfangirl · 6 years ago

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Written In The Stars Chapter 4

Steluta looked up to the doors as they became visible, a pit growing in her stomach as she felt fear creep into her bones at the thought of going in there. “This is a bad idea. I feel dread in this place.”

“It is our only choice.” Gandalf reminded them as he sat attempting to contemplate the riddle presented before him.

She watched the cold stars glimmer above them, her arms outstretched as her skin drunk in as much of their light as she could. Boromir watched her with a smile as her arms lowered into her lap as she whispered soundless words as if in prayer to the seven stars she loved so much.

“What is she doing?” Merry asked Boromir curiously.

He looked up to her in her trance like state. “She is speaking with her kin.” He explained as his eyes lingered on her. “The roaming kingdom is spread far over all corners of Arda. Legend says to project a shade of themself was a gift given to them by the Valar, so that no matter how far they roam they will always be united.” He added as Merry absentmindedly threw small rocks into the stale pool beside them.

“Not quite.” Legolas corrected, finding it more difficult to not think of her more fondly after the night under the stars. “She told me the tale. After they left Mordor a gem fell from a group of seven stars. It was faceted to the crown of the heir and has been passed on since. They believe that jem was a star delivering the gifts. But they need to bathe in the starlighlight for strength and magic.” He explained. Boromir raised a suspicious brow. “That is why she is called The Star.”

“Don’t disturb the water.” Aragorn whispered to the hobbits, stopping them from throwing any more in. The kurplunk of water being breached from above drew the Mandalayn’s attention, a single eye opening from her whispers to the stars down to the little ones just in time to see a long tentacle wrapping around Frodo. “Strider!” Sam called out as the creature began to drag Frodo into the pool. All the group burst from where they sat hacking at the beast. Legolas’s arrows flew alongside Steluta’s knives. Her long fingers danced along the pouches that lined her hip, debating if they would be of any use, however Gandalf’s voice beckoning everyone into the mines quickly broke her thought as she rushed to do as told.

Her dark eyes widened like the moon as the light from Gandalf’s staff illuminated their way. Never before had she sees something so deep, the only larger would have been the sky itself. With each step she listened intently to Gimli as he told them all about his cousin Balin and how wonderful of a welcome they will soon be receiving.

But two days passed and such a welcome was never received. Steluta sniffed the stale bitter air as her feet stuck to the floor, unable to move another step. “No...I can’t…” She murmured as the rest stopped for her as she slowly sunk to her knees. “There is only death here. We should not have come this way.” It felt as if they had been marching for weeks, not the three days that had passed since crossing the gates, her breath labored, sweat upon her brow. Boromir furrowed his brow as he came to her side, bending down for her.

“Come lady, we’re nearly through. The dwarf says his kin is near.” He said as he wrapped an arm around her, aiding her back to her feet.

Yet still she shook her head. “No….no no no.” She insisted in a hushed voice.

Worried for his traveling companion Legolas stepped to the two, his fingers lightly brushing against her cheek as he steadied her face long enough to look into her eyes. What was once sparkling like stars was beginning to dull, brown fading. The light that sustained her people had been denied her far too long. If they didn’t reach the end soon he was sure she wouldn’t last. “I warned you to never touch me again pretty boy.” She reminded as she removed his hand with the tip of one of her knives, her voice slurring slightly. As he backed away he realized he was so lost in her eyes he didn’t even notice her draw the weapon...but as of right now things were not looking good. All the time he had been under the mountain Steluta’s words wrung clear in his mind...danger to the great Gandalf is still ahead of them. Hours passed as she kept up purely by leaning on Boromir for support. “I’m sorry Gimli” She whispered before the doors to Balin’s tomb. Finding in this tomb a safe place to take a bit of rest Boromir allowed her to move from his shoulder. She swayed back and forth as if she had too much drink but did not fall, instead she holding herself steady against a wall slowly lowered herself to sit and regain at least a bit of her strength back. Her heart filled with sorrow as Gimli mourned his lost kin, wishing she could sing a lament for them, yet she feared what the carrying sounds would summon.

“We must move on, we cannot linger.” Legolas warned the group as he held a hand out to assist the fine woman back to her feet.

“Do I look like one of your frail elf damsels?” She snapped as she braced herself against the wall to lift herself back to her feet, preparing to move on despite how short the rest had been. As they spoke Gandalf read from the book that told them what terrible tragedy had happened Pippen inspected a skeleton that still held the arrow that slew him...just close enough to nudge it down the empty well it sat upon. The bones crashed and clanked all the way down, echoing throughout the stone walls. But soon something answered… “Drums…” She whispered as she took the hand, smooth and creamy as starlight as he lifted her to her feet with haste.

“No lady. You are much more infuriating.” He answered with a playful smile as he turned to allow her to lean on him before warning the rest of the party that Orcs were on their way. The warmth of his skin and smell of his flesh seemed to bring a hint of strength back to her soul. “Are you able to fight? Or will you be singing them all to sleep instead?”

“They have a cave troll.” Boromir informed them as he and Aragorn closed the doors, barricading them inside.

Deciding to not dignify the insulting question with an answer she pushed herself from the elf. “Just don’t step in front of me.” She said as she pulled the string on one of her pouches, slipping her hand inside, the other caressing one of her daggers. She sat waiting patiently as Legolas's arrows pierced the flesh of goblin and orc through the small holes in the door, right now she’d only help them get in all the faster and she knew it. As the door was breached and the hord spilled through the doors her hand slipped from the pouch letting out a harsh scream chucking a glimmering dust in the eyes of the enemies. Their weapons dropped as their hands came to cling and claw at their eyes as they grew red with blood and fluid, the small shards of metal blinding them as they entered.

Legolas couldn’t help smiling at the maneuver as he watched her throw the dagger embedding it in the skull of an orc, pulling another to defend herself as she rushed to retrieve the first, splitting the knees of another as she went. “I thought your powers were useless under earth?” He quipped, forgetting entirely that she told them the blinding scream was just a story as he helped her up to ready to attack.

“Magic yes...but never any of my people are without Glitterdust.” She answered as the two moved back to back, chestnut hair mixing with the fair elf’s in swirls like cream in coffee as the room soon echoed with the roaring of the troll as it burst forth. Steluta and Legolas each loosed their weapons at the shoulders of the beast yet it seemed unfazed. As attackers came close to the two her daggers flung and sliced through the grotesque flesh, keeping her archer safe from arms reach as he slew many more trying to enter. As the Elf leapt onto the back of the troll embedding three arrows in its head Steluta watched with a bit of awe. “Show off.” She quipped as her daggers dug themselves into an orc’s neck.

As the beast sniffed out the hobbits Steluta scaled the chain it bore on its neck until she sat mounted on its back. She watched with horror as a spear entered the breast of the young ring bearer, giving out a shrill cry before driving the last of her daggers into the neck of the beast, fearing even at the tender part of its flesh the blade would not be long enough to do much good. In pain the beast reared its head giving Legolas a clear shot to drive a final arrow into its throat, finally making the beast fall. She skunk from the troll, her strength nearly spent as Frodo revealed the mithril that saved his life. “To the pit!” Gandalf ordered hurriedly, yet she could now barely stand.

“Come along Steluta!” The elf quipped as he scooped her up in his arms. She wanted to protest, shout out that she is not one to be carried like a maid...but she knew right now that was simply untrue. Her eyes drifted around the stone walls as he clung her close to him as they raced to the chasm that separated them from their escape from the demon of fire and shadow that now pursued them. She dared not watch as Legolas lept from the crumbling stairway to the other side, burying her face in the green leather of his elven armor. Once past the bridge he set her down, an arm wrapped around her shoulder as they turned to witness the battle.

“I warned you all.” She whispered wearily as the two battled, whip of flame cracking as Gandalf shouted, breaking the bridge. “NO! Gandalf!” She screamed, barely able to hold herself, as the whip drug him down into the dark pit.

“Fly you fools.” the last words he spoke before slipping down into fire and shadow.

Boromir lifted the princess to make their escape all the more swift as the company rushed out of the stale musty air of the mine into the fresh breeze and the warmth of the midday sun. But yet the outside world could not bring joy to their faces for they just lost far too much to remember the emotion. “We can not tarry. We need to put some more land behind us.” Aragorn stated as gently as he could muster, stirring his companions to rise from their grieving.

“Give them a moment for pity's sake.” Boromir begged as he cradled the fair princess.

“By nightfall this land will be swarming with orcs.” He explained. “We need to make for the trees of Lothlorien.

Boromir's eyes trailed down to the star in his arms, knowing she'd need more than rest.. He could almost feel her need to lament her friend. It was boring a hole in her chest with grief as he let her feet down on the ground “Boromir…” Her voice faltered but he was glad to hear her strength in it returning as she lifted her arm to point to a wagon he recognized as one of her people's. Yet no man driving the steed that bore it. “Gifts from my people.” She announced with a smile growing in strength. Though she proudly stood moving on her own, too stubborn to accept that she now needed help Boromir kept close to her side with fret. Legolas watched curiously as she climbed into the wagon. Through an open window he could see her slipping blade after blade into small hidden sheaths among her body before coming back out with a cloth sack tied to her back and a quiver of arrows she held forward for the archer.

#lotr #lord of the rings #fanfiction #legolas #legolas x oc

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lady-byleth · 7 years ago

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For anon, who wanted to know what the members of the Fellowship do for their birthdays. Hope this is okay! EDIT: Because people keep not reading the tags, I know Hobbits usually give gifts on their birthdays but I figured they deserve to get gifts after everything. If it still bothers you, please just consider it an AU. I'm tired.

The first year of true peace after their defeat over Sauron, Legolas Greenleaf learned something about mortals he had never realised, despite his long friendship with Aragorn.

Birthdays, he learned, were quite important. Much more so than they were for elves.

They were supposed to be grand, a celebration of another year on this earth and each member of the Fellowship had his own way of marking the occasion.

Gandalf, much like Legolas himself, did not celebrate at all. He was too old – ancient – in their understanding of time to truly know which day his birthday would fall on. In fact, he said one day, he did not know whether time truly applied to a being such as he was and thus could not tell if he was born in a day or if his birth spanned centuries. Instead, the wizard marked the passing of time since his arrival in Middle-earth with a pipe of Longbottom Leaf, or Old Toby if he had a mind, and a quiet day in a garden of his choosing.

Sometimes, Glorfindel would join him, uncharacteristically quiet and thoughtful, as he sat beside his old friend with a book that appeared older than Legolas himself. He had only stumbled upon them once, wrapped in quiet conversation, and hastily beaten his retreat. It had been such a strangely charged moment he felt as if he had been intruding.

When Gimli asked why he looked so confused, Legolas had said nothing but pulled the dwarven beard and run for his life instead.

Now Gimli, that was a whole other story. The dwarf loved celebrating his birthday, probably as much as a Hobbit did. He did however absolutely despise people planning his party for him. So when his first birthday after the war arrived in Gondor, he banned everyone from the Great Hall in Minas Tirith, ordered several highly confused servants to do exactly as he told and planned the entire evening himself.

And what an evening it had been, though Legolas doubted anyone in the Fellowship aside from himself and Gandalf truly remembered it. Ale had flown as freely as the Bruinen and half a dozen wild boars had been put on spits and roasted over roaring fires after soaking in beer for a day.

The combination of both had left Pippin snoring in a wastebasket while Merry danced a strange little jig around him, Aragorn crying in a corner because Arwen had told him she was already married, and Sam and Frodo had become quite fascinated with a tapestry on the wall, trying to figure out why the strange man had three legs.

Faramir had pestered Gandalf for lessons in several subjects even the wizard had no experience with and what exactly had happened to Éowyn and Éomer was anyone’s guess. They had disappeared suddenly and returned hours later, Éomer with a bloody nose and Éowyn slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain, a wooden sword in her hand.

In conclusion, Legolas deeply despised the fact that there was no way to capture the entire evening by magic to embarrass his friends with their drunken escapades.

Merry and Pippin, they celebrated together. Gandalf had taken up the task of planning for them, spending days in preparation for the greatest fireworks he ever created. Aragorn meanwhile had sent out his fastest riders to procure pipe-weed by the barrel and ale from the Green Dragon, instructed carpenters to deliver hobbit sized furniture to the castle and invited as many people as possible to attend a grand feast in the castle’s courtyard. It had been a celebration that did not end up quite as chaotic as Gimli’s but it was a pleasant evening indeed.

Merry and Pippin had entertained the crowd with songs and funny anecdotes, basking in the attention upon them, and then ripped into the presents the citizens had brought their little heroes. Though their favourite presents were, indeed, those of the Fellowship. That everyone, without fail, ended up giving them new pipes did not seem to bother them.

“One for every day of the week,” Merry had laughed, winking at the group.

“And sometimes two for the same day,” Pippin had added and stuck the fine ivory white one of elvish make and the heavy one from Rohan one into his mouth at the same time.

Gandalf had shaken his head fondly. “Hobbits.”

For Sam’s birthday, Frodo asked a favour of Lord Elrond, who agreed immediately without so much as hearing the request itself.

Sam was to celebrate his birthday in Rivendell and to be given a tour of the entire valley and its surrounding area. Glorfindel volunteered to lead the wide-eyed hobbit around into places he had never been as his friends trailed behind him, though Merry and Pippin quickly found the pantry and disappeared.

Once Glorfindel had finished the official tour Aragorn and Legolas took their friends between them, gathered the troublemakers, and started the tour again. Only this time, they told stories of their youth under these trees.

Legolas could not remember ever seeing Sam laugh as much as he did when they recounted the time they squabbled over a wineskin and accidentally lobbed the uncorked thing at Erestor, destroying royal correspondence with Thranduil in the process. The evening concluded with a pleasant dinner under Elbereth’s stars and to the sound of Glorfindel’s fair voice telling them of the beauty of Gondolin.

What they did for Aragorn’s birthday was all Arwen’s idea. She had noticed her beloved’s growing restlessness inside the castle, stooped over paperwork and letters about subjects he could not care less about, and so she had instructed everyone in the castle to delegate everything to her for a few days. Her husband she had pushed at Legolas and Gimli, who had, in turn, pushed his Ranger garb on him and then dragged him outside where their hobbit friends and Gandalf waited astride their horses.

The following week saw them track across Middle-earth, visiting places they had seen on their quest but hadn’t been able to enjoy – a bubbling stream ending in a series of small waterfalls, a clearing filled with so many wildflowers it appeared carpeted with them, wide planes so green emeralds paled beside them – and Aragorn taught those who could not how to track the animals that crossed their paths. For Aragorn, discarding the mantle of King for a few days was the perfect gift, relaxing and exhilarating all at once.

It became a tradition in the years to come.

Frodo’s celebration was equally relaxing but much less planned.

On the 22nd of September, every member of the Fellowship, no matter how far away they had been, arrived in dribs and drabs to gather at Bag End for a hearty dinner that emptied Frodo’s stores.

Small gifts were given, pots of special ink or rolls of the finest parchment, small journals for his thoughts and a quill made of the feather of a great eagle the story behind which Gandalf refused to explain. At night, they sat underneath Bilbo’s great oak tree and read to each other from books found in the study ny the light of a full moon. Poetry and children’s stories, fairytales and funny short stories.

In the end, they had all ended up lying on their backs as Legolas pointed out constellations and told them the stories about each special star his mother had told him in his youth with Gandalf occasionally explaining the origins from a time before time.

Boromir…Boromir’s birthday was most akin to Frodo’s. But instead of the somewhat cramped inside of Bag End they gathered alongside Faramir in Osgiliath. In a ruin there, under the banner of Gondor that Boromir himself had raised so long ago, they built a roaring fire and passed Boromir’s favourite wine around, toasting him in quiet voices still tinged with pain at his passing.

Faramir told of his brother’s heroics against the Shadow and Merry and Pippin recounted how he had died to save them at Amon Hen, remembering his gruff kindness and easy humour. Despite Faramir’s presence neither Éowyn nor Éomer joined them, even though both Lady and newly crowned King were in Minas Tirith at the time.

As the moon reached its peak, Legolas spoke a quiet prayer for Boromir’s soul and they all tossed a sip of wine into the fire in hopes it would reach him wherever the souls of men went after death.

If anyone noticed the others cry, they did not mention it.

Birthdays were important, Legolas learned after the war.

Especially for mortals whose lives were so fleeting that every year counted.

#prompt #fellowship #frodo #samwise gamgee #merry and pippin #gandalf #legolas #aragorn #gimli #boromir #faramir #eowyn #eomer #arwen #lord of the rings #my writing #usually hobbits give gifts to their guests on their birthdays but they deserve to get gifts so consider this an au i suppose xd

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therobinwing · 7 years ago

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Dragons in Minas Tirith

“Once belonged to a young boy if the city. A very foolish one, who wasted many hours slaying dragons instead of attending to his studies” - Faramir (The Return of the King Extended Edition)

Minas Tirith gleamed white under the afternoon sun. Though the times of her brightest glory had long passed, the White City was buzzing with activity. Merchants praised their wares on the marketplaces, lords and commoners hurried about, carrying out their businesses, and children chased each other through the streets.

A little above that, on a terrace of the citadel, two boys were sitting at a table, poring over big tomes of history. The older was about eleven years old, the younger maybe six, and both were dressed in fine clothes and both had raven-black hair. These boys were Boromir and Faramir, sons of Denethor, the steward of Gondor, and it was time for their afternoon lessons. As always, they were studying under the attentive eyes of their teacher Beleglin. At least, he usually was attentive. But today, the two brothers convinced him to take their studies outside, and the old man had trouble keeping his eyes open, as the warm sun and the chattering from the streets made him drowsy. And soon enough, his head fell onto his chest and he began snoring.

“Can we go now?”, whispered Faramir.

“Wait just a moment longer” Boromir stared at the old teacher. He waved his hands in front of Beleglin's eyes, and when that didn't wake him, declared the situation safe. “But be more careful than last time, we don't want him to wake up again!”

Faramir nodded excitedly. The two boys got up slowly and quietly and sneaked away. When they were at a safe distance, they broke into a run and sprinted down the busy streets until they reached a small square, where they stopped, panting.

“What now?”, asked Faramir, looking at his brother expectantly. Boromir looked around the square and spotted a few pigeons hopping around between the legs of the passersby. He pointed them out to his brother.

“See that? Those dragons are attacking our city! We need to fend them off!” And with a war cry the brothers rushed into battle.

They spent a while defending the square, chasing the dragons around and occasionally bumping into the pedestrians. Once, Boromir valiantly fought off a particularly dangerous dragon that was trying to land a counter attack on Faramir. As the last of the dragons fluttered away into one of the alleys, Boromir shouted: “Follow it! It will lead us to their nest so we can destroy them once and for all!” And so, the brothers plunged into the alleys.

The dragon put up a good chase, flying in circles, crossing the main road up to the citadel a few times and slowly leading them down to the lower levels of the city. In the alleys of the second or third level (they lost count), Faramir started to fall behind his older brother. Boromir rounded a corner, and when Faramir reached the same place, he was gone. Faramir ran into the same direction his brother had taken, trying to catch up, but Boromir was nowhere to be seen. What now? Faramir stopped. Maybe he could hear his brother? He strained his ears, but all he could hear was the faint buzz of the main street. He tried to backtrack, but he couldn't figure out where he had come from.

“Boromir?”, he shouted. No answer. “Boromir!”

Now Faramir was beginning to panic. All the houses looked identical, and they were so high, he couldn't even figure out where the citadel was, all he could see was white stone and blue sky. He wanted to ask for help, but the last time he had seen anyone seemed like hours ago. Of course, away from the main road there were many vacant houses, Faramir knew that, and they had apparently wandered into a part of the city where almost no one lived.

Not knowing what else to do, the boy picked a direction and walked, still calling for his brother, but only his echo answered. After what felt like hours to him, he sank down at the side of the alley. What if he didn't find Boromir again? What if he didn't get back home in time and got into trouble? What if he never found back home again? His eyes started to water. What if no one would find him in this maze? Faramir started crying as he now became certain that he would be forever lost and alone.

Suddenly, he heard someone shouting faintly. He froze, listening. There it was again, closer this time.

“Faramir! Faramir, where are you?”

“Boromir!”, he shouted back.

“Faramir?”

“I'm here!” He heard steps coming closer, and a moment later, Boromir appeared in the alley. Faramir scrambled up and tackled his brother in a tight hug.

“There you are!” Boromir said, patting his little brother's back.

“Never leave me again.” Faramir's voice was muffled against Boromir's tunic.

“I won't. I promise.”

Faramir squeezed a little tighter, then he looked up. “Are the dragons gone now?”

Boromir nodded. “We fought them off for good. I doubt they will dare to come back.”

“Does that mean we can go home?” Right as he said that, Faramir's stomach growled loudly, and just a moment later, Boromir's joined in.

“Great idea. Come on, I'll give you a piggyback ride!”

And so, the brave knights returned home after an exiting adventure.

#lotr #faramir #boromir #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfic #my writing #i had this idea ages ago but it took me years to actually write #funfact: beleglin means great song if im right #which i thought was fitting for a teacher

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berjhawn · 8 years ago

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Lost Lothlorien Princess - Part 19 - Final Battle

Warnings: Fighting, death, ETC

Pairings: LOTR X Reader ; Legolas X Reader

Parts:

Part 1 - High School

Part 2 - Rivendell

Part 3 - Concerning Hobbits

Part 4 - Merry and Pippin

Part 5 - Bree

Part 6 - Aragorn

Part 7 - The Council

Part 8 - The Road Ahead

Part 9 - Moria

Part 10 - Lothlorien

Part 11 - Boromir

Part 12 - Fangorn Forest

Part 13 - Rohan

Part 14 - Helms Deep

Part 15 - Haldir

Part 16 - Feast for the Fallen

Part 17 - A Past Revealed

Part 18 - Army of the Undead

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A while later I am atop Fili as Aragorn, wearing the emblems of the White Tree and the Seven Stars with the Crown above them, leads an army from Minas Tirith. Everyone is there. Pippin rides in front of Gandalf. Merry rides behind Eomer. When we arrive outside the gate Pippin says, “Where are they?” Aragorn turns to look towards him and then rides forward towards the gate with Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Eomer, Me, and a Gondorian standard bearer. We ride up close to the gate.

“Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!” Aragorn shouts at the Gate. Merry and Gimli watch from behind their riders as the gates open and out comes Sauron’s Lieutenant. I grip tightly to Fili’s back as he rides towards us. “My master Sauron the Great bids thee welcome.” The mouth of Sauron says. Aragorn and Legolas look at him aghast. He is horrific to look at. “Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?” The mouth continues as I try my hardest not to vomit at the state of his face.

“We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this. The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return.”

“Aha! Old Greybeard! I have a token I was bidden to show thee.” He says as he holds up Frodo’s mithril shirt in front of Gandalf.

“Frodo!” Pippin cries out and I grit my teeth as the mouth throws the shirt at Gandalf.

“Silence!” Gandalf cries as he tries to calm the Hobbit.

“NO!” Merry cries out causing Gandalf to yell yet again, “Silence!”

“The Halfling was dear to thee I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would’ve thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did Gandalf, he did.” Tears start into Gandalf’s eyes. I turn to them and say, “Do not listen to this ugly creature, Frodo isn’t dead.” The mouth’s head snaps toward me as he says, “Sauron has been expecting you. He wishes for you to stop fighting and just return with me.” I narrow my eyes at him as I say, “Never in a million years.” Aragorn moves forward on his horse.

“And who is this? Isildur’s heir? It takes more to make a King than a broken Elvish blade.” The mouth says as he turn to Aragorn. Aragorn sweeps out his sword and beheads the Mouth of Sauron in one movement. As he does so I once again feel a stabbing pain in my chest making me clutch tight to my chest as I turn away from them. “I guess that concludes negotiations.” Gimli says and I try to hide my pain with a smile.

Suddenly, the gate begins to open causing Aragorn to turn and look at it. Orcs begin to march through. “Pull back! Pull back!” Aragorn cries out causing us to ride back towards our own army. “Hold your ground! Hold your ground!” Aragorn cries out as I unsheathe my swords. I glance forward to see Aragorn ride across the front of the army addressing the men. “Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers. I see it in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!” I look around to see the men looking encouraged.

“By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!” The soldiers all unsheathe their weapons and stand ready. Aragorn wheels around on his horse to face the oncoming enemy. At the gate the small Gondorian army is being surrounded by the huge Orc army. I watch as they all climb off their horses and stand on the ground ready for battle. Aragorn looks at them. I glance over at Pippin as he unsheathes his sword, Merry looks at him and breathes heavily, holding himself in readiness for battle. Eomer looks menacing at the Orc army. I watch as the Orcs completely surround us.

“Never thought I’d die fighting side by side with an elf.” I hear Gimli say and I turn toward him as Legolas replies, “What about side by side with a friend?” He looks down at Gimli and smiles. Gimli looks up at him and says, “Aye! I could do that.” Aragorn stands in readiness in front of the army. Aragorn moves forward seeming mesmerized, I fight the urge to go to him. Aragorn’s sword arm drops to his side. He turns and looks at Gandalf, who holds up Frodo’s mithril shirt for him to see.

Aragorn smiles as he says, “For Frodo.” He raises his sword and runs forward towards the Orc army. Pippin and Merry shout and run after him, their swords raised. The rest of the army start to run towards the Orcs. They quickly overtake the Hobbits. Aragorn reaches the Orcs and smashes into them slashing with his sword. The two armies collide in a fierce battle.

As we continue fighting the Orcs I climb down off of Fili and say to him, “Protect the Hobbits!” He quickly bounds off after them. There is a scream from the Ringwraiths and I suddenly feel my body start to burn. “AHH!” I cry out as the pain starts to once again burn my body. I look toward my father right as a huge eagle intercepts a Nazgûl dragging it off. The eagles engage in the air with the fell beasts. “UGH!” I cry out as I try my hardest not to fall into Sauron’s plan. I watch as the Orc's run toward me. Tears fill my eyes as I force myself to fight against them through the pain.

I hear the cry of a cave troll and following its cry see him attacking Aragorn. Fear fills my body causing me to quickly run through the onslaught of Orcs as I make my way over to him. As I reach him He is thrown to the ground and right as the Troll brings his sword down I shove him out of the way causing the sword to slice down my back. I feel the world start to pass in slow motion as the burning pain suddenly ceases. “NO!” I hear Sauron cry out in anger and I look around to see Aragorn’s eyes filling with pain and worry as they meet mine.

I feel the warm liquid pour down my back making the world start to blur before me. “_______!” I hear Aragorn cry out and I smile as I feel his arms around me. “Mellonamin,” I say as I try not to cry. “I’m here,” The cave troll returns and raises his sword once again. The Eye of Sauron flares suddenly and I let out a blood curdling scream as I feel an intense pain fill my body before it suddenly turns to nothing. “NO!” I hear Sauron scream out into my head over and over again until his voice disappears completely. The Eye looks this way and that desperately. The Cave Troll stop, looks towards the Eye, and realizing it is free runs off.

Aragorn turns me to look as the tower of Barad Dûr begins to collapse. I smile as I say, “It’s over.” We watch as the tower collapses to the ground. The Eye of Sauron explodes sending a huge shockwave outwards. “Frodo!” Merry shouts gleefully. Gimli shakes his hands with joy. The Black gate begins to collapse. Orcs try to run away, but the ground below them gives way. They are all destroyed. Mount Doom erupts. Merry looks shocked. Gandalf begins to cry. The Ringwraiths fizzle and disappear. Aragorn watches with concern. Pippin cries. “The… Eagles…” I say as I turn to look at my father and before my entire world goes dark I hear a loud wolf howl out in pain.

Will Continue In - Melancholy

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