#modern reader in middle earth

[doodle-pops]

Elrond With A Modern Medical!Reader in Valinor

Request: Not sure if this is fic or just headcanons but: Modern!reader in middle earth who was a neurosurgeon in her old life and is now in Valinor working with Elrond to translate medical concepts to elven language before she dies and help advance their medical practice. Some differences between elven and human biology are found out in the process, it’s all quite fascinating to them both. She assists in a few operations but I imagine they don’t have many surgical operations to do in times of peace because people just aren’t getting injured like they used to during the famed battles against Morgoth and Sauron in middle earth. She helps on occasion but them elves are graceful and not injury-prone. - Anon

A/N: I was having trouble turning this into a fic, and since you gave me the option, not minding if I did a headcanon, I went with the latter. I had fun writing this, I also made their relationship ambiguous. Enjoy!

When you happen to arrive in Valinor, dazed by its eternal beauty and tranquillity, Elrond, with all his calming presence and wise demeanour was the first to greet and help you settle down. He was kind to welcome you into his new home.

During your time there, you and Elrond spend countless hours in his extensive library, trying to translate complex medical texts and concepts into Quenya, while he marvels at the intricacies of human detail in neurosurgery. To him, the ability to heal the brain by getting so practical and up close was fascinating.

“You humans certainly love your precision and details,” he would say as he smiled while reading through a description of a delicate brain surgery. You on the other hand would laugh and tell him that not all humans are so meticulous, following up your comment by sharing more medical mishaps from your world.

It is when you discover the biological differences between elves and humans, that things in the work become all the more interesting. You discover that elves’ regenerative abilities allow for healing preparations to be cut down and rushed to the healing wing, unimportant. Just knowing this, leaves you speechless as he casually mentions recovering from an injury that would have left a human incapacitated.

“So you’re telling me that you can heal from a stab wound in a matter of days?” you ask, incredulously with jealousy lingering. Elrond would simply nod along with a serene smile as he continued to translate the prewritten text on the paper you provided. “I wish I had that. Would have saved me all those trips to the ER.”

Assisting in medical practices in Valinor is rare but rewarding. Elrond’s precise, yet holistic approach to medicine complements your surgical expertise perfectly. Together, you manage to save a few elves who came in with nasty injuries, mostly from hunting trips gone bad.

As time passes, you are further blown away when Elrond teaches you their famous art of healing through song and rare herbs, enchanting your understanding of medicine. You do find the elves’ ability to enter healing trances particularly fascinating.

“So you just…sing them better? Like kumbaya and poof! Healed?!” you asked one day as you attempted to wrap your head around the concept, prompting Elrond to chuckle. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

As time passes, your collaboration deepens both your understanding and respect for each other’s knowledge and expertise. Elrond is continually impressed but your surgical and modern techniques, while you are captivated by the elves’ natural form of advanced healing practices. This welcomed late nights in the library often turning into philosophical discussions as Elrond is thrilled by your stories of modern technology, and you are equally captivated by his tales of Middle-Earth.

You even meet a few of his family members during your stay as words of another human dwelling in Valinor. “Wait, you all fought a literal Balrog? Those fiery beasts?” you asked one evening as you sat around a table chatting with those who encountered the creature. “If you all were in my world, you could have used a fire extinguisher to put the flames out, or just douse water on them.” You leave most of them in laughter and confusion.

Due to meeting other elves beside him, you get the opportunity to practice your healing methods on them, though, they rarely allow you to since they usually appear fine even when injured. “So you couldn’t have hit your head a little harder for me to have something to examine instead of magically healing?” you disappointedly asked one of Elrond’s family members.

That has been the relationship for most of the encounters when an elf decides to come in sporting an ‘injury’. “You said you cracked your skull four days ago while hunting but I’m not seeing any injury. Do you mind if I hit you so I can have an actual injury to work with?”

Like you, even Elrond has his moments of being light-hearted, despite his dry sense of humour, when things don’t go according to plan. If the technique is too complex, he’ll jokingly say, “Of course, if all else fails, we just use magic.” Of course, you blink at him wondering if he was being serious or joking.

The partnership between you and Elrond as your work in Valinor developed certain areas of elven magical was tedious but also worthwhile. Even the relationship between you brought each other comfort and upliftment. “I suppose I’ll be remembered as the strange human who brought surgical scalpels to the Blessed Realm and threatened to beat people in their heads,” you joked.

Elrond usual response is filled with a sense of gratitude as he makes a toast in your honour. “You will be remembered as a pioneer and someone we are grateful to have encountered. I am glad you were brought here,” he fondly cheered.

Even as your time in Valinor progresses, you and Elrond continue to explore new ways to incorporate your medical practices into their elven healing. Each time an elf stops by for healing, you sometimes have to threaten them to come in with noticeable head injuries or you’d give them, while other times, you are lucky to have something to deal with. At least, during your years there, you managed to get a lot done.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life

[ironmandeficiency]

sending memes

pairing: legolas / modern!reader

word count: 2153

summary: it was remarkably easy to fall in love with the elven prince. unfortunately, it was somewhat harder to actually convey said feelings. that’s when you decide to use memes

req: can i have legolas x reader with "sender quotes a poem that reminds them of receiver"? -@micheleamidalajedi

a/n: leave it to me to turn soft romance prompts into bullshit 😂i had to tweak it just a smidge but i think it's fine. mistor is gn sindarin for strayer/wanderer, aluon is gn sindarin for wholesome, & meril means artist or poet in woodelven sindarin

in the beginning, the elves had no idea what to do with you. you were far too brash and loud for court and had very little formal training in just about anything useful. your clothes were strange and there were dozens of words in your vernacular they didn’t understand, and several of your mannerisms threw the elves of the greenwood into tizzies.

your consensus was that they tolerated you simply because you knew things you shouldn’t, like the events of the first age and personal details about king thranduil that never saw the light of day.

some elves surprisingly enjoyed your presence very early on and jumped on the opportunity to learn about where you came from. of this number was legolas, a very adept learner who was easy on the eyes (and your heart, but that’s neither here nor there).

you’ve been in middle earth for a few years now, having jumped on the chance to stay and never return to a world slowly deteriorating. once you told the elves about various tragedies that had struck your earth in the past hundred years alone, even thranduil was terrified at the prospect of sending you back.

so now you were somewhat fluent in sindarin and best friends with a prince; oh, how the turntables.

“mistor!” your elvish name was cheerfully shouted across the training arena. “watch this!” aluon’s voice was immediately recognized and it brought a smile to your face. he had been one of your very first friends in middle earth and despite his youth (for an elf), was placed on your royal guard for if you ever ventured beyond the greenwood. he was what you would call a cinnamon roll.

“okay, i’m watching!”

aluon was currently practicing with his throwing knives, his bow resting against the side of a training dummy. for all the praise a bow and arrow got from elves, he preferred his knives just a bit more.

he threw one last look over his shoulder to make sure you were indeed watching him before throwing the blade in his hand with a resounding “YEET!”

the knife landed directly in the bullseye because of course it did.

you could barely congratulate him on his aim and joke execution for your cackling, arms holding your stomach as if your body were truly coming undone. his laughter joined yours soon after, the two of you leaning on each other while trying (and failing) to catch your breath.

-

legolas has known you long enough to know that where boisterous laughter is heard, you’re likely the culprit. this is why his footsteps guided him to the training arena in the royal wing, the one reserved for himself, his father, and their most trusted friends and guards.

to his non-surprise, you and aluon were wheezing on the ground at some unknown joke. he approached you both with a smile of his own, sturdy hands helping you to your feet. “mellon nin, what lightens you so?”

“aluon was throwing knives and went ‘YEET!’ and he hit the center of the target!” the cackling returned with renewed strength as you mimicked the motion and raucous screech of the four letter word.

ah, the practice of yeeting. you explained the word to him very early into your presence here and he found himself using the term on the odd occasion, much to your delight.

but legolas, as polite and regal as he was, felt the embers of friendly competition light in his chest. it wasn’t about the aim of aluon’s throws, as logical but slightly unfounded as that claim would have been.

it was truly about your laughter. he wanted to be the reason you lit up with such mirth, he wanted to be responsible for the joy in your eyes.

with all the princely decorum he could muster, he armed himself with his bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly directly into the wooden handle of aluon’s blade.

then, with a straight face, he dabbed.

-

tauriel was a hard elf to get ahold of. as captain of the guard, she was always busy, flitting about while completing all sorts of duties.

but finally, two weeks after legolas made a show of dabbing in the training arena, you found her in a rare moment of rest. you knocked on the door to her rooms and when she opened it, you walked right inside and plopped yourself on the nearest chair.

“ugh tauriel! finally, i’ve been trying to talk to you for ages!”

she smiles warmly, always having been one to enjoy the mannerisms that made you so intensely human. “it’s good to see you too, mellon nin,” her chuckle is soft and sincere. “what do you need?”

you sighed, snatching a throw pillow from the chaise you were on and reclining back in a way reminiscent of a therapist’s office. “i need advice about legolas.”

her smile turned to a knowing smirk. “ah, so you finally see what the entire kingdom already knows.”

“what do you mean ‘the entire kingdom knows’? what do they know?!”

“ah, i see i was mistaken.”

your resulting floundering was amusing to the redhead.

“i’m serious tauriel, i need your help!” you thought it useless to play coy and being vague would get you nowhere, so you told her exactly what you needed to know. “i need to know how to go about asking him on a date, or whatever it is that elves do when they’re interested in someone.”

“well,” she began, “if i know him as well as i think i do, he wouldn’t want you to conform to elven traditions to please him.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” at this point, you were beginning to question why you came to tauriel for help, seeing as she was being ridiculously cryptic and strangely unhelpful. “in case you forgot, he’s royalty. i can’t exactly woo him with ridiculous memes and call it a day.”

she nodded. “why not? if that is a regular human courting tradition where you’re from, why would he not find it acceptable? it’s part of who you are, and one could only call themselves a worthy suitor if they appreciate those things about their intended.”

okay, she had a little bit of a point. not that you would tell her so, of course. “but i can’t text him memes at ungodly hours of the night, there still is a lack of cell phones to contend with.”

for someone so smart and otherworldly, tauriel thought, you were rather oblivious when your feelings got in the way of your common sense. “then do those things in a different way. as you’ve told me before, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

after a few moments of silent pondering, you realized what she was hinting at. “i can draw the memes! or, well, i can ask meril for assistance in the matter, since i’m not quite used to using quills and such.” tauriel thought she could see the gears turning in your head (if that was indeed the right analogy).

she shouldn’t have been surprised when you leaped from her chaise and wrapped her in a tight hug. humans in your world must be a bit more affectionate than the ones she was vaguely familiar with, “thank you thank you thank you! i’ll let you know how it goes! bye!” with that abrupt exit, tauriel watched you fondly as you sprinted from your rooms, probably heading to the library where you could find meril.

-

legolas was fletching arrows when a courier appeared in his line of vision with a bow. “my prince, a letter for you.” he accepted the outstretched letter with a nod, wondering what it could possibly be.

the parchment was familiar to him, being the very same quality that occupied his own writing desk in his chambers. the only momentary pause was seeing that the few words were written in westron, underneath a drawing of a radish with a tiny face.

“you’re… radishing?” it took him a moment to dissect the pun, shoulders shaking minutely when the meaning fully registered. then his eyes caught your signature on the bottom of the page and his smile grew wider. he folds your letter neatly and tucks it into a pocket. when he goes back to his rooms next, he will deposit it securely on his desk to keep it safe.

the radish is the first of many of these pictures he receives from you, he soon learns that in the world you came from, they’re called “memes” and can convey any number of things depending on the content and context.

during dinner one evening, you passed him a napkin that he unfolded to find another vegetable drawing, this time a smiling carrot, with the words “i carrot a lot about you” that turned the tips of his ears pink. if his father noticed the blush he gave no indication of it.

your memes varied in artistic talent (he would know meril’s penmanship anywhere) but all carried the same intention, which seemed to be making him flustered at the most inopportune times. another thing he learned about memes was that they were frequently sent back and forth between two people.

his own visit to meril seemed to be long overdue.

-

meril has lived for several thousand years in service to the greenwood. yet, in all her centuries of knowledge and experience, she’s never seen two beings dance around feelings with the same grace as prince legolas (or lack thereof, where you were concerned).

you taught her what memes were and provided descriptions of what you deemed “templates” for her to draw,  master copies of a certain type of meme where the meaning of the meme changed depending on the text. it was a very interesting affair, if she did say so herself. they became more popular throughout the kingdom thanks to your influence, so much so that the prince himself came to her one day with an odd request.

“i need you to help me compose a meme worthy of mistor’s laughter.” he looked serious as he ever did, grim determination set in every pore of his face. none would know that he was simply trying to make a meme.

“you need to be more specific, your highness. your dear mistor can find humor in nearly everything around them. in fact, yesterday afternoon, they spilled nearly a month’s worth of ink onto a single piece of parchment and laughingly called it the thirteenth reason.”

legolas smiled at the story before his mind fully processed what she said. “they’re not my- thirteenth reason for what? what were the other twelve?”

meril shrugged, walking towards what became your desk in the library soon after your arrival. many of the templates were strewn about its surface haphazardly, half-finished memes next to their matching templates. “you should find everything you need here, your highness. if mistor arrives before you’re gone, i shall keep them occupied.”

“thank you. i greatly appreciate your help.”

finding blank parchment and a quill, he dipped into your ink jar and quickly got to work.

-

you generally never got letters. any missives you received from various elves were dubbed simply as messages that just happened to be written, which is why being told there was a letter for you had you perplexed. it wasn’t like modern earth discovered how to send carrier pigeons to middle earth in the few years you’ve lived in the greenwood.

instead of asking the courier several questions about the contents of the letter, you simply bid him thanks and quickly tore into it.

the wax seal of the royal line was recognized in seconds. thranduil wouldn’t waste his time writing anything out that he could simply tell you in person with a summons to wherever he happened to be.

that left legolas, and the thought made you giddy just thinking about it.

you registered that there were words written to you, but paid them no mind for the moment. what truly gave you surprise was the fact he used a template. you knew this because you recognized the format; a young girl standing in front of several other people who were giving her audience, a display board just behind her.

this bitch sent you a lisa simpson meme.

after a moment of bewilderment, you actually read the words that were just behind her.

“mistor’s laugh makes the plants grow stronger and could replace the sun with their joy”

you could tell that towards the end he worried about having enough room for all the words in the square with how they got just a smidge smaller. but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest, not when he wrote such a romantic sentiment solely for you. your giggles were the furthest thing from dignified but you didn’t care.

you had a prince to find (and hopefully kiss, if things went your way).

[aragon-irl]

IM SORRY BUT WE WONT SURVIVE ON THE FOOD IN MIDDLE EARTH

Alright so, after looking at the food in Middle earth it does look amazing BUT I WONT BE ABLE TO EAT MY NOODLES OR RICE!! Like I love my po-tat-oes but I can only eat so many until I have had my fill for the week. And let me not even get started on seasoning, Middle earth is based on Europe with a lot of similarities and differences but one small problem with this..... we got OUR SPICES from ancient Egyptian, Chinese, and Indian cultures so what do you my dear readers think the food in Middle earth tastes like? Pepper is going to become hot and salt the new sweet BECAUSE SUGAR IS ALSO FROM ASIA....

But just imagen coming from our world tasting a dish from Lord Elrond or someone else that is an important person and smack talk them for calling pepper spicy. You are going to be standing there and ask if you can make something for yourself cus this shit was so bland and boring. (Spoiler you are going to invent spices right then and there and become super rich and famous, Smaug can go and cry in a corner cus u wont be needing his treasure)

[marsconer]

writing lord of the rings fanfic is like. *has three versions of how an event goes* *goes into research tangent on folklore and anthropology* * cries about it* it’s what tolkien would have wanted.

[rynneer]

Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after an accident in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

Next >

Chapter One

Cold.

You’re cold. It’s dark. You’re falling. Someone reaches for you. Too late.

The water folds in around you. It floods your nose. It floods your ears. Your limbs don’t work. You can’t swim.

Muffled shouts. You open your mouth to cry back. It fills with water.

Choking.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning drowning drowning dr–

You wake with a jolt, sitting up in bed.

Bed?

You pat the sheets around you. Yes, you’re definitely in a bed, not curled up on the leaf litter in Mirkwood.

“I guess it really was a dream,” you whisper, shoulders slumping. But as you run your fingers across the hem of the blanket, you frown. It doesn’t feel like the old quilt on your bed. It’s thicker, softer.

Something is wrong.

You look around the room as your eyes begin to adjust. There’s a fireplace across the room, the dying embers casting just enough light to let you make out the vague shapes of furniture in the darkness. The walls and floor are stone, adorned with plush rugs. The wind rattles the shutters outside the window, hidden behind thick curtains.

This is not your bedroom… and you are not alone. A dark figure stirs next to you beneath the covers. You scramble out of bed but find the floor farther away than expected. You land hard on your side. “Ow!”

You slap your hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. The figure sits up with a groan, rubbing at its face and leaning to peer over the edge of the bed at you. There’s no mistaking that mustache, those braids.

“Fíli? What… where are we?” And why are we in bed together?

Fíli blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks hoarsely, his voice rough. He rolls out of bed and kneels in front of you. “We’re home. In Erebor? You know, the mountain? Big pile of rocks and snow? It’s rather hard to miss.” He raises an eyebrow, trying to coax a smile from you.

Instead, you scoot backwards, putting space between you and the prince as you process his words. “But we were just in Mirkwood,” you protest. “How did we get here?”

Fíli’s confusion turns to concern. “Y/N, that was a year ago.” He shifts closer and brushes a thumb over your cheek. “Are you feeling alright?”

You stiffen against his touch, heart in your throat. Ever the gentleman, he’s never touched you without permission before. But something about the way his palm cups your face feels familiar. “I don’t know,” you whisper, shaking your head. “All I remember is falling into the stream.”

“You don’t remember the elves? Fighting for the mountain? All the time we spent together?” He uncovers a long braid in your hair. “Our wedding?”

“Wedding?!” It’s true, you’ve harbored feelings for Fíli since the two of you met in Bag End. You’d admired him in the book and movies, and to see him for real… it did something to you. But you never thought he would return your affections—how could he? You’re a plain, young woman from another world, and he’s a handsome prince, heir to the throne.

Fíli searches your face, expression unreadable. Finally, he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on.”

You take it hesitantly. His fingers lace through yours, and he helps you to your feet. Strangely, you find that instead of being taller than the dwarf, you’re just level with his chin. But before you can comment on this, Fíli pulls you out the door and down a narrow hallway.

He leads you to a large sitting room, taking you to the sofa next to yet another fireplace. “Wait here,” he orders softly. “I’ll fetch Thorin.”

“Thorin’s alive?” you breathe. “What about Kíli?”

“Kíli would like to know what the pair of you are doing up and chattering in the middle of the night,” replies a voice from behind you. The youngest Durin leans against the wall with his arms crossed, hair still tousled from sleep.

You tip back your head and close your eyes. “They did it,” you sigh in relief. “Oh, thank God, they did it.”

Kíli raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Fíli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get Thorin first. I would rather not explain this twice.”

 

“Again.” Thorin paces in front of the fire.

You rub your forehead. “I told you, that’s it,” you groan. “I fell in the water and woke up here.”

Kíli shakes his head. “It makes no sense.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Thorin flashes you a warning look.

“It was no ordinary stream,” Fíli points out. He sits with you on the couch, his hand resting on top of yours. Every once in a while, he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “It had some sort of foul magic. She wouldn’t wake for days.”

“If it’s magic that we’re dealing with,” you glance at Thorin warily before continuing, “it might be a good idea to talk with the elves.”

“Absolutely not,” Thorin snaps. His lip curls in disgust. “I refuse to invite them to interfere in our private matters.”

Kíli’s eyes brighten. “What about Gandalf, then? Where would we find him?”

They all look to you. You close your eyes, teasing and tugging at the cobwebs that cloud the part of your mind where your Middle Earth knowledge is stored. “He’s… there’s no guarantee we even could find him. Gandalf doesn’t have a home, exactly. He wanders. They don’t call him the Grey Pilgrim for nothing.”

“So we don’t know where Gandalf is,” Fíli starts slowly, “but we do know where the elves are.”

“And Gandalf wasn’t in Mirkwood with us,” you add. “There’s no guarantee he even knows about the enchanted stream—but Thranduil definitely would.”

Thorin crosses his arms. “Out of the question.”

“Did you not make peace with Mirkwood?”

“Peace does not mean friendship,” Thorin retorts. His voice, raised in frustration, echoes off of the polished stone walls. Down another hallway, you hear a door slam. Thorin groans at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“And just what in Mahal’s name is everyone shouting about at this hour of night?”

A new dwarf steps into the firelight. In the dim light, she almost looks like a copy of Thorin. But as she approaches, you can see her features are softer, her eyes rounder, her beard thinner. And there’s no mistaking the Durin glare that she levels at Thorin, her blue eyes just as piercing as they are tired.

You glance at Fíli with uncertainty. He squeezes your hand and leans close to murmur in your ear. “It’s just Amad. Mother,” he translates when you don’t seem to understand.

Dís. You nod quickly.

Thorin looks at you, then back to his sister, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised expectantly. As they exchange words in their rough native tongue, Dís’s expression of irritation turns to one of soft, motherly concern. She comes closer to you and gently brushes away a few strands of unruly hair from your face. “You must be tired, natha.”

“Daughter,” Fíli whispers.

“A bit,” you reply quietly, finding yourself suddenly shy with the full attention of a mother focused on you.

“Poor dove,” Dís tuts. She straightens up and pats you on the shoulder. “Fíli, take your lass back to bed. We will speak in the morning.” Thorin looks like he means to protest, but Dís silences him with an icy glare. Planting a kiss on the top of your head, she pushes Kíli and Thorin back down their opposite hallways. Fíli pats your hand and follows her quickly, his words in Khuzdûl fading as he gets further away.

Finally alone, you let out a long sigh. For the first time, you get the chance to look yourself over, to see what has changed. Your hair is longer, brushing the small of your back. When you run your fingers through it, you find braids styled to match Fíli’s. A dwarven marriage custom, perhaps? There’s a thin, gold band on your finger, too, lined with tiny sapphires that sparkle in the firelight. A little smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; at least you kept some piece of your own marriage customs.

And while Fíli has been bare-chested this whole time, you’re wearing a dark green shirt, no doubt one that used to be his. It’s long enough on you to serve as a nightgown. A blush rises on your face when you realize the deep v-neck exposes the dip between your breasts—and has been exposing it to everyone else this whole time.

“Amrâlimê?” Fíli’s voice from the hallway is soft. He pokes his head into the sitting room. “Aren’t you going to come to bed?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, suddenly very interested in the fireplace. In anything that isn’t Fíli’s too-kind face. “Do you want me to?” you ask hesitantly.

It’s silent for a few seconds. Fíli sighs heavily and comes to kneel before you, taking your hands in his. “Y/N, you are my wife. Of course I want you to come to bed. It is our bed.” His eyes search yours, desperately looking for the light he knows should be there. “Do I not have your love?”

“I mean, sure,” you reply softly. Your voice is strained. “I just… I don’t understand how I have yours. You’re the crown prince, you’re perfect. And I’m just… me.”

“You are so much more than that,” Fíli murmurs. “You are everything to me.” He kisses your forehead and stands. Before you can say anything, you’re swept up in his arms. Startled, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to avoid falling, but he carries your smaller frame with ease.

You frown, remembering your observation from earlier. “Shouldn’t I be taller than you?”

“Ah. Well.” Fili’s chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your cheek. “That’s all that we thought the stream did. Make you properly sized.”

“Properly sized?” you repeat in disbelief. “You call this properly sized?”

“You complained about it endlessly,” Fíli continues. A playful smile tugs at his lips. “Until you realized how well you fit in my arms.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m also handsome, charming, brave…”

“Shut up.” You smack his shoulder lightly, but hide a smile as you tuck your head beneath his chin. Maybe you can get used to this.

But as he kicks open the door to his—your—room, and you see the bed with its rumpled covers, you tense.

“Y/N?” Fíli’s breath tickles your neck.

“It’s… just a lot, all at once,” you mumble.

He squeezes you, then lowers you gently to the bed. “I understand,” he murmurs.

“You really don’t, though.” Pent-up frustration simmers within you. “When’s the last time you fell into a stream, woke up, and found out a year had passed and you’re married?”

“Are you upset that we’re married?” Fíli asks, his face falling.

You feel a pang of guilt for snapping at him. This can’t be any easier for him. Running your hand through your tangled hair, you shake your head. “It feels like one moment, I was a girl with a crush, and then I wake up, and suddenly I’m a married woman. I’ve missed out on everything.”

“It’s in there, somewhere,” he whispers, stroking your cheek. You flinch away, your body unsure of how to react to his touch. Hurt flickers across his face, but he pulls back. “Can I fix your braids?” he asks. There’s desperation in his eyes.

Recognizing his need to touch you in whatever way he can, you nod slowly, and turn. The gentle, rhythmic tugging as he combs and re-braids your hair is hypnotic, and you find your eyelids drooping.

“There,” Fíli says, turning you back to him. He smiles sadly. “Beautiful as ever.”

Your heart aches. Whether it aches for him, the dwarf searching for his loving wife in the uncertain girl before him, or yourself, longing to be that loving wife, you do not know.

After a moment of hesitation, you lean in and reward him with a quick kiss on the cheek. His beard is prickly against your lips. “I’m tired,” you whisper when you draw back.

The kiss brings a real smile to his face, however small it may be. Fíli pulls back the covers and you wriggle underneath them. You settle into a dip worn down into the mattress from hundreds of nights before. Fíli slides into place behind you, his chest against your back. You stiffen slightly, but force yourself to relax.

“Is this alright?” His deep, quiet voice vibrates through your body.

You nod. He can have a little cuddle, as a treat. As an apology.

He takes that as a signal to test the limits further. You can tell he’s holding his breath as he drapes his arm over your waist. “Is this alright?”

“It’s cozy,” you mumble sleepily, letting the warmth of his body overwhelm you.

Fíli lets out his breath, pulling you tightly against him and nuzzling his face into your hair.

As you drift off, you do your best to pretend you don’t notice his quiet tears.

You began to stir, finding your face pressed into something warm and firm. As you tried to pull away to look around, you were met with resistance. You made a disgruntled noise.

“Y/N?!” Suddenly, a hand yanked your head backwards. Wide eyes searched your face frantically. You just barely registered who held you before he pulled you back in a crushing embrace. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“Fíli?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his coat. “Can’t breathe.”

He released you, finally letting you get your bearings. The two of you were alone in a small, stone cell. Torchlight flickered just outside the wrought iron bars, casting a dim, orange light into your cell.

A shadow crossed over the door. “Oh, so she is alive. Here, then.” An apple landed on the ground in front of you, followed by a waterskin. “That’s the most you get until tomorrow. Make it last.” The shadow retreated, footsteps echoing down a long hallway.

Pieces began to slot into place in your mind. You nodded slowly. Mirkwood, elves, imprisonment. “How long have we been in here?”

“A few days at most, given how often they’ve brought food and water. But it’s hard to tell.” Fíli seemed distracted, eyes scanning your body. “How do you feel?”

You frowned and patted yourself up and down. “A bit sore, but I think I’m fine.” You untangled yourself from Fíli and tried to stand on shaky legs, your knees instantly failing beneath you.

Immediately, he jumped up and grabbed your waist from behind to steady you. “Y/N?” His voice was soft. “Y/N, please do not be alarmed when you turn around.”

“What?” You twisted in his grasp and looked up into his concerned face.

Up. You had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He was big. You tried to back away but the space was so narrow, you collided with the wall after just a single step. “You’re taller,” you stated, almost robotically. “But you’re a dwarf. You can’t be taller than me. I’m supposed to be the taller one. How did you get taller?”

“I did not get taller,” he corrected you. “You got smaller.”

You just stared at him blankly. Fíli sighed, gently taking hold of your arm and easing you back to the ground. He took the apple from the floor and placed it in your hand. “Eat,” he ordered quietly. “You haven’t had any food in days. It was hard enough to get water into you.”

Instead, you rolled it between your palms absentmindedly. “How long was I out?”

“Just over a week. We were trying to cross a stream, and you fell in.”

“Instead of Bombur,” you interjected.

Fíli raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. Glóin managed to snag you,” he continues, “and when he pulled you out, you were… well, smaller. But you wouldn’t wake up. You even slept through the spiders. I was so afraid that you were gone before I could tell you–” he broke off, his voice thick. He tore his eyes away from yours, a blush rising on his face.

“What?” You reached out and took hold of his chin, turning his face back to you. Yet his eyes still avoided you. You crawled closer, kneeling between his outstretched legs. Your traitorous heart pounded hopefully against your ribs. “Tell me what, Fee?”

He shook his head. “No, no, it’s foolish. I shouldn’t… you wouldn’t…” Finally, he looked back up at you. “I love you?” He phrased it as a question, his blue eyes filled with hesitation. It was strangely endearing, seeing the normally confident prince so bashful. Fíli lifted a cautious hand to your cheek, fingers just barely brushing your skin.

Surprise temporarily robbed you of your voice. Mistaking your silence for rejection, Fíli quickly pulled his hand away. Shame and hurt flashed across his face. “Forgive me,” he blurted out, ducking his head. “I should not burden you with feelings you can never return.” He pulled his legs back in and moved further into the shadowy recesses of the cell.

But you crawled after him, refusing to let him go that easily. “Fíli, why didn’t you say anything?” When he remained silent, you wound your fingers up in one of his braids and tugged, forcing him to turn his head towards you. “Why are you so sure that I can’t feel the same?”

A cautious spark of hope flared to life in his eyes. “Because you’re perfect, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You deserve so much more than I can give.”

You smiled, eyes tracing his face. The gold locks that framed it, the sky blue eyes, the flushed cheeks. And those soft, pink lips, parted ever so slightly as he awaited your next words.

But words were the furthest thing from your mind. Refusing to hold back any longer, you grabbed Fíli by the collar, lunging forward to claim his mouth.

His eyes widened, then fluttered shut as his hands grabbed at your waist. Fíli pulled you back into his lap and wrapped his arms around you, reaching up to comb through your tangled hair with his fingers.

A rock clanged against the bars of your cell. “Get a room!” came Kíli’s voice, echoing down the hall.

You broke away with a laugh. “This is a room!”

Kíli’s only response was a disgusted groan as Fíli grabbed at your face for more.

[the-really-lonely-mountain]

To Erebor - Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. This is the second installment, so we are following the second movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling deeper in love with Kili on the way! This is the second part for the second movie.

Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, light smut, it's really just a brief description nothing too graphic but i certianly wouldn't want to be caught reading it, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien), sword fight training, kili is a big ole softy and i love him so much for it, tags tbd tbh lol

Word Count: 4,758

A/N: OMG!! I graduated! I got a job! I finally edited this part! I'm so tired y'all, I'm writing this author note at like midnight lol. ~AnywhoOOo~ I hope you enjoy! let me know if you'd like to join the tag list to be directly notified of chapter updates! <3

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

You woke to the usual clanging of pots and pans as breakfast was being cooked. Kili’s hand was still on your waist and his arm was still your pillow, though you were sure it’d gone numb in the night. You gently placed your hand on his cheek and tenderly ran your thumb over his delicate cheek bone. He looked so handsome sleeping beside you, it made you smile like a giddy little schoolgirl. You regretted having to remove yourself from his warm embrace, but you had to start packing your things and getting ready for the day. A much easier task now that you didn’t have to worry about your hair. When you were finished and your bag was neatly packed, you woke Kili.

He stretched his arms above his head then his eyes popped open, “Good morning!”, he sat up energized and ready to conquer the day.

“Good morning!” You replied with a kind smile, ever impressed by his liveliness in the mornings, “Start packing, Bombur’s almost finished breakfast.”

He shuffled about beside you while you worked on the last half of your bracelet, waiting for breakfast.

The porridge was the usual white sludge meant for nutrients, not flavor. You rinsed the dishes in the river with Kili’s animated storytelling as you usually did after meals. Thorin had the company moving out when you returned.

The day’s walk was very scenic, mostly idyllic forests with little rivers, where the lighting truly brought it all together. You walked between Kili and Fili so they could give you the basic run-down of sword handling and bowmanship.

By the end of midday, the company was on the border of the forest and a field. Thorin decided to make camp there and told Gloin to make the fire while Nori, Bifur, and Oin set traps in the forest to restock the reserves or something, you weren’t listening, too focused on Kili’s hand in yours as he led you somewhere.

The extra sparkle in his gorgeous brown eyes told you he was very excited to teach you about archery. As the resident Archer, no one (his brother) could compete for your attention by correcting him. He was also excited to watch you use his bow and his arrows; an honor bestowed upon an extremely select group.

Kili was very protective of his bows, not just because of the time it takes to make such an incredibly valuable weapon, but because one time in his youth he worked for weeks carving a brand-new bow from solid wood, making the string by hand, and engraving runic talismans into the handle. He worked very hard on that bow; Only to have one of his snot-nosed neighbors snatch it from him while they were playing and accidentally snap it in half after a misstep. Kili was furious, absolutely inconsolable. Fili had to drag him from the scene of the crime to the forest just behind their family house, so he didn’t hunt the kid down and destroy him. He didn’t say anything to Fili, just cursed and milled about the clearing in frustration. At first, his brother didn’t know what he was doing, concerned he was setting a malicious trap for the offending child (such a spiteful trap was almost sprung after another incident of the same nature); but as Fili silently watched, out of arm’s punching reach of course, he realized his brother was just looking for a piece of wood to make a new bow. Fili built a fire to keep the chill of the setting sun at bay, not wanting to abandon his brother to the coming night. He watched the younger mumble curses in dwarfish as he whittled the wood seemingly in his own little world. Kili hadn’t really taken notice of the fire his brother built despite using its light and occasionally throwing more wood on out of habit while he stayed up all night to make the string and engrave the handle. Their mother, Dis, saw them through the window in the back door in the middle of the night. Fili was sitting on the ground, relaxed, leaning against a tree while he watched his brother on the other side of the blazing fire, Kili was sitting on a rock hunched over his bow as it came together. Dis knew from that moment Fili would always look after his little brother, or at the very least try his best. The craftsmanship of the bow he made that night was nowhere near his previous bow, but it could still shoot the straightest arrow in the village. It would do till he grew again and needed a bigger one.

Kili brought you a few yards away from the camp, out of ear shot but not out of sight. After the crash course in archery during the day’s walk, you were as prepared as you could be. And excited as ever. Kili carved a target into the trunk of a tree with his dagger, not worried about losing misfired arrows in the underbrush because the fletching on the end of all his arrows were bright yellow.

He situated you both at a reasonable distance from the target and demonstrated again how to place your fingers on the string and what position to be in when you pull the string back. When he handed you the bow you were not expecting it to be as heavy as it was. Without an arrow, you tried to pull the string back like he showed but you couldn’t move it. You looked at Kili.

“Just pull it back Y/N.” He encouraged, with a proud little smile.

“I am, Kee,” you said still straining to pull it. It wouldn’t budge. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out what could be wrong—Ah! He got it!

“Here, let me help.” He came up and stood behind you. “The draw weight for my bow must be too high for you,” he said into your ear, his low hushed tone not going unnoticed as he got into position. He shuffled his legs behind yours and placed his hand below yours on the handle and his fingers above and below your slimmer, softer ones on the string. They were much stronger and much thicker than yours. Two of your fingers were the same width as one of his, a thought that quickly had you blushing. The irresistible mental image of moaning out for him while being deliciously stretched around his capable digits as he cooed praises, was nearly too much. You thanked god he was behind you and couldn’t see your bright red face.

He let you do most of the work pulling the bowstring to allow you to get a feel for the mechanics and amount of potential energy the movement created.

“And…” he made sure you were ready, “Release.”

You both let go of the string at the same time.

“Perfect! Now let’s try it with an arrow” He got one from the quiver on his back and handed it to you.

You nocked the arrow like he taught you then got into position. He helped you pull the string back like before, allowing you to control the aim.

“Ready…” You said to him this time, “Release!”

The arrow flew across the field and landed smack in the middle of the bullseye.

“No way,” Kili said in complete disbelief. You both went over to inspect the target. Sure enough, the arrow was deep in the carved center circle of the tree.

“That’s amazing Y/N!” He turned to you with the biggest smile you’d ever seen. You were as happy as him, jumping up and down excitedly.

“I want to try again!” You walked over to your previous spot and lined yourself up, waiting for him to join you. He chuckled at your enthusiasm and grabbed another arrow on the way over. You repeated the process like a practiced dance, enjoying more than anything that he was your partner. He allowed you to aim again, but this time the arrow didn’t hit its mark or the tree at all; It planted itself firmly into the leaf-covered underbrush.

“Awe,” you pouted, “I rushed, next time I’ll take my time.” You went to grab another arrow from his quiver, accidentally getting your face in his. For a moment, you could feel the heat of his lips and his breath tumbling over onto your own in a near ragged pant.

When you backed away you both politely laughed it off, though you could have sworn he leaned closer to you in that brief moment.

You shot all the arrows he had in his quiver. A handful hit the target, and a few even got close to the bullseye, but none hit the center like the first. Being a good coach, he encouraged and teased when the time was right.  

Once again in your own little world, it was like nothing mattered except him. His radiant smile, his contagious laughter, his excitability; it was all consuming. As the day wore on, your arms got tired, and you were ready for a break. You helped him collect the arrows in and around the tree, so he could show off for a bit like boys do for pretty girls. He did trick shots and action shots and even pinned the pinecone you threw for him to the tree. His skills were very impressive. Your return to the camp was met with impressed exclamations.

“Was that a bullseye on the first shot?!” Bofur asked, having seen the miracle even from the other side of the camp.

“Aye!” You said excitedly, proud of your accomplishment. You didn’t even realize that you were beginning to use their dialect.

“Good job lass!” Oin said, along with the others happily celebrating with you.

After all that training, you were hungry for a snack. You rummaged through your bag in search of the grapes you had foraged with Bilbo the day before. They weren’t in your bag where you left them, carefully wrapped in your old T-shirt.

‘They couldn’t have fallen out’ you thought as you scanned the camp for the thief, already having an idea of the culprit. You stopped when your eyes fell on Kili across the camp, leaning against a tree with a shit-eating grin as he popped a grape into his mouth.

You were livid. It was a total invasion of your only private property: your bag, and you felt extremely violated.

You couldn’t say anything to the offending dwarf or even look at him in fear of your rage exploding onto him. Your anger evident from your expression, the camp fell silent as you walked to Kili.

That feeling in Kili’s chest sunk to his boots when he saw how angry you were; he knew he’d gone too far. You snatched the grapes from his hand and walked (stomped) into the field beyond the camp.

“Y/N wait—” he tried to follow you into the field.

“NOT NOW KILI” you snapped at him over your shoulder in a tone he didn’t quite think you were capable of. He stopped in his tracks at your tone, the same one his mother used when she was very cross with him. The other members of the company who heard the commotion snickered at Kili’s self-inflicted misfortune.

You sat in the field, soaking up the sunshine and eating your grapes while you calmed down. Kili moped around camp like an abandoned puppy; it was quite a pitiful sight.

When you finished your snack, you took a few deep breaths to get the anger from your system and allow your thoughts to come together to properly explain to Kili why you were so mad. The youngest Durin hesitantly joined you in the field when he saw you were done with your grapes, his footfalls crunching the grass beneath him alerting you to his presence. He sat next to you clearly a little nervous by how he picked at the grass.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at the ground. “It was just supposed to be a joke, honest,”

“Joke or not, Kili Durin, you shouldn’t have gone through my stuff!” You wanted to make sure he understood how unhappy his actions made you. He cringed at his full name. “You violated the only sliver of privacy I have out here!”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he said in a regretful voice you’d never heard from him before. “I shouldn’t have gone through your bag.”

You sighed and looked over at him. “I forgive you Kee,” You took another deep breath, satisfied he’d learned his lesson, “Just don’t do it again, ok?”

He smiled, happy to be back on good terms with you, “I won’t, I promise”. You smiled too, his infectious charm melting what little remained of your anger. You gave him a hug, knowing you both needed physical reassurance.

He sat with you in the field for a while, content to stay in comfortable silence. You’d been eyeing a beautiful patch of flowers a few feet away since you’d sat down. You shifted so you were laying on your stomach to get a closer look at their vibrant hues and decided you wanted to use them, but how? Kili moved next to you, mirroring our position, to see what you were looking at. Then inspiration struck.

“I’ll braid them into your hair!” You said excitedly. He gave you a look of surprised confusion.

“What?! No!” he was immediately against the idea and even backed away from you as if you’d jump on him any second like his brother might. “Why don’t I put them in your hair instead? They’d look much better on you.” He desperately tried to come up with a reason to avoid the inevitable onslaught of mocking he’d have to endure if he agreed to your plan.

You brought yourself to a kneel so you could look him dead in the eyes with a blank expression, “Pussy,” you said.

He scoffed and got all huffy and puffy, “I am not a pussy!” He said defensively, his cute accent got thicker when he was flustered, it made it so hard to take him seriously, “I just think the flowers would make you even more beautiful than you already are.”

You blushed deeply at his words and looked away from his charming little smile to keep your thoughts from a more baser mindset and to think over his offer. He started twirling the end of one of the braids he’d done the night before between his fingers. It was a sweet and absentminded motion, to which you relented with a sigh, “Alright, but you have to teach me how to use a sword after.”

“Deal!” He gave a hearty nod. You got your hair stuff from your bag and your bracelet to work on and hopefully finish while Kili did your hair. You picked the prettiest flowers and put them in the extra fabric of your shirt like a delicate basket. He dragged over a stone to sit on and got to work undoing the braids and brushing your hair out.

You didn’t realize how tight he’d made the braids till the tension was released from your scalp. You sighed in pleasured relief as he moved your hair around with the brush. That sound immediately pricked his ears.

“Does that feel good, princess?” He looked down at you and smiled as he massaged the sore parts of your head. You were too lost in the feeling his skilled hands were creating to react to the pet name.

Once he massaged the soreness away, he parted your hair and began braiding. Kili had a vision of what he wanted to do to your hair. He wanted a thick band like a crown around the top of your head and four small thin braids scattered across the rest of your loose unbraided hair.

You were on an entirely different plane of existence. You felt so calm and relaxed and taken care of with his undivided attention, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. His tranquil voice when he asked for a flower every now and then was the only thing you could hear. It felt like you were floating, your body sun warmed and peaceful.

When Kili was putting on the finishing touches, Fili came and joined you in the field to see what you both were doing, sadly pulling you from your lovely state of mind.

“Kili wouldn’t let me put flowers in his hair.” You pouted after the older brother inquired about your change in hairstyle.

“Even after he rummaged through your bag!” Fili feigned offense on your behalf with a smirk as he laid on his side in front of you both propped up on his elbow.

“Shut up, Fili” Kili huffed, ashamed of his previous actions, as he carded his fingers through your loose hair to make sure it was laying properly.

“Awe, Kiwi’s embawwassed,” you said in a baby-talk voice, making you and Fili laugh a little.

Kili stopped combing his fingers through your hair and tangled them in the loose hair at the back of your head. He pulled your head down to make you look up at him looming over you. He was about to say something, but the inadvertent dominating gesture caused an involuntary moan to slip past your lips, stalling any thoughts he tried to voice.

You were both stuck in that trance for just a moment, yet it took an eternity to pass. He was unable to look away from your pleasure pinched eyebrows and slightly parted panting lips. You were captivated by his handsome blushing features and the fire in his eyes. You wanted so desperately to kiss him, to meet his lips in heated passion.

“Good gods you two,” Fili rolled his eyes. His sudden interruption snapped Kili back to reality so he could release your hair. “Get a room,” Fili finished his statement.

“Shut up, Fili,” you both said in unison with faces equally ablaze and eyes cast anywhere but at each other. The elder just looked at you two and laughed to himself, he knew at that moment you were both madly in love.

“Here’s your brush, Y/N.” Kili handed it to you, wanting to change the subject.

“Yes, thank you” You took it from him and hastily returned your bag to camp. You met Kili back in the field for sword training. His brother was still there passively observing (waiting till he had to step in to correct the younger as this was not Kili’s area of expertise).

Bilbo allowed you to borrow his sword so you could get an idea of what a properly fitted one felt like without your wrists being torn to shreds by the other much heavier swords of the company. Kili walked you through basic moves and positions to teach you how to make your weapon like an extension of your own body. When he tried to speed up the movements and have you come at him in mock battle, you faltered and messed up the arrangement of poses.

When this happened, Fili of course would step in with a simplified version to help you. Before long, you had an audience, and the watchful eyes and extensive fighting prowess of Thorin and Dwalin. Kili was no longer the teacher but the sentient-sparing mannequin. The sequence of positions and movements became longer the more you worked at it. It felt amazing to be capable of so much. You knew it was just choreography, but it made you better now than you were before.

You were beginning to sweat under your thick tunic. The physical exertion was getting to Kili as well. When you took a water break you removed your shirt, the coffee brown padded camisole you wore underneath being far more breathable, but much tighter than your usual outerwear. It left hardly anything to the imagination.

Your less-dressed return to the now-stamped-down grass of the makeshift training area was met with impressed exclamations, wolf whistles, and light applause. You blushed and pretended to be a fashion model at the end of a runway. They found it very amusing.

Kili came back wondering what the commotion was about.

He saw you waiting for him. You hadn’t noticed him approaching yet, too busy putting on a silly little show. He loved seeing you like this, confident and carefree, not worrying about how you looked and focusing on something that was far more rewarding: having fun. He used the few seconds you were distracted to admire you. Your half up half down hair he’d just braided and styled, was blowing softly in the wind, and your short unruly baby hairs were matted to your sweaty forehead framing your face. Your camisole highlighted the alluring curve from your ribs to your hips. The hem of the fabric was ridding up on your waist, revealing just a sliver of your lower tummy. Your pants kept where they were, hugging tight to your thighs and bottom.

‘Two can play that game’ Kili thought, not even trying to hide his mischievous smile. He took his shirt off and threw it in his bag.

You looked up and saw him coming to meet you. The long bangs that framed his face were clinging to it now from his perspiration. He was smirking, knowing he caught you slightly off guard. His prominent pectoral muscles bled into his strong thick arms. His waist tapered at his hips where his pants were beginning to ride low, revealing his defined adonis belt in its retreat. He exuded power as he walked towards you with his arms out a bit from his side, and his palms facing you, as if he were challenging you.

“Ohho, it’s serious now, is it?” you said over a light chuckle, feigning being taken aback by his friendly challenge.

“Oh, it sure is.” He returned your light laugh and with a smug expression he tapped his sword against yours where it hung at your side. He knew he was flustering you. He could see it in the deepened flush that colored your cheeks and how your thumb picked at the leather-covered hilt of your sword.

You had to bite the inside of your lip rather hard to keep your eyes above his exposed shoulders. It had been so long since you’d felt so physically and mentally attracted to someone. The way he was looking at you made your panties dampen at the scandalous thoughts that his honeyed chocolate eyes made race through your head.

If Thorin hadn’t said, “Ready positions”, in that barking tone of his, you’d have jumped Kili’s bones and rode him off into the sunset.

You both got into the starting positions you preferred. Thorin shouted ‘Commence’ in Dwarfish. Kili came at you with harsh blows, which you perfectly countered like you’d been taught. You were able to quickly move yourself, so you were standing at his side. You took the opening and swung for his exposed ribs, but he easily blocked your attack. You pressed your blade against his to force him back and give up some ground. He stood steadfast in his heavy boots, however, and pushed back against you, getting his face close to yours to tease you.

“Good job, you remembered how to keep your grip on the sword.” He said with mock celebration. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep your footing. He glanced at your lips where your teeth were worrying your lower lip; A habit he noticed when you were focused or nervous.

“I’ve been taught well, Archer.” You shot back, as suave as you could manage under the conditions. He threw you back so he could reset his stance.

“We’ll see about that, Ibinê,” he said, flustering you again with that mischievous grin as his native language easily rolled off his tongue.

You charged at him, and your blades collided with a loud metallic clang. Your sudden advance surprised him, he backed up a few steps. Cheers came from your audience.

“Ibinê?” You strained while your blades met again in a brute force pressing match. “What does that mean?”

Kili shoved you back and swiftly turned around, a trick he hadn’t yet revealed in your spar. He abandoned his blade somewhere off to the side and spun around again but crouched in his movement so he could swipe your legs from beneath you. You fell to the ground with a muted thud, your weapon knocked from your grasp. Kili scrambled to straddle your hips, pinning down your legs with his and your wrists above your head. You tried to fight against him, but his strength and weight are much greater than yours.

He panted above you, smiling like a cat who got the canary, “If only it were you straddling me,” he whispered under his breath and winked at you discreetly. Your chest was heaving, making your breasts ebb and flow with the rhythm. The erotic tension was palpable between you.

“We have a victor!” someone said from the sidelines to break your daze. Kili blushed and stood and helped you from the ground. Your audience clapped a little then dispersed to the camp a few feet away.

You leisurely walked away from the encampment along the edge of the forest to catch your breath. The extra sway in your hips and a casual glance over your shoulder enticed Kili to follow you. He walked beside you. You looked up at him delighted he got the hint and followed you. He leaned over to say in a voice that was deeper than normal, “Ibinê means my gem.” His words took a moment to register, a delayed blush colored your chest and neck.

He bit his lip as a thought played behind his eyes. Growing bold from the adrenaline still in his veins, he wrapped his hand around yours. He picked up speed till he was running with you trailing behind. He took you far from the others. The sun was setting, painting the sky in those vivid colors that only dusk and dawn brought.

Kili slowed to a stop and used his grip on your hand to bring you in front of him. He took a step into your personal space.

“Labathmizi means I adore you.” He gingerly placed his hand on your cheek like he was handling the thinnest, most precious glass in the world. You were blushing profusely, your gaze danced from his eyes to his lips. “Abnâmulzi means you are beautiful.” He pecked his lips against yours for a moment then backed you against a tree and pinned you against it with his strong hand on your hip. The prolonged eye contact was making you pant. His voice was low and rough with arousal, “Azralizi du-nâmrul, Ibinê…” His head ducked down so his lips brushed against yours. “…means I want to fuck you, my gem.” He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that surpassed any expectation you had. You lifted your leg over his hip, his hand went from your hip to your thigh, an encouraging movement, and it felt like it was searing into your cloth covered skin. It slid up to your ass cheek and urged you to grind against him. Your hand was on his bare shoulder and the other tangled in his hair, scratching and pulling lightly on the soft brown tresses at the nap of his neck. You whimpered as his hardening member pressed against your soaking core. Kili met your movements, making himself hiss at the delicious friction you were both craving.

When you broke the kiss for air as lust flooded your mind and loins, “That’s really hot” was all you could manage.

You were becoming addicted to his kiss. The way his thumb would glide against your cheek and the soft, barely there little whimpers he was making as you deepened the kiss were driving you mad with need. His tongue won its fight against yours when he gyrated his hips perfectly to grind into you, causing a moan to bubble from you. When he broke away, he looked at you, panting.

He suddenly went silent and perfectly still. His eyebrows pinched in a sudden focused confusion as he looked past the tree you were pinned to. This immediately concerned you.

You opened your mouth to ask if he was ok, but he put his finger to his lips to silence you. He closed his eyes and turned his head to focus on something; dwarfs and their connection to the environment around them still confused you.

His eyes shot open in a panic, and he tore himself away from you so he could pick you up bridal style.

You clung to him as he broke out in a sprint back to camp, “A pack of orc’s are coming.”  

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist <3: @letmelickyoureyeballs, @nessarosefiction, @akari-rioan

[rivendell-poet]

Trick-or-treat :) May I ask for Glorfindel and a Modern Girl (well, mid 30s ;) ) in Middle Earth situation please? Many Thanks!

Hi anon! And now it's confession time... I've never actually read the Silmarillion, although I keep intending too. This was written after reading like... six other ficlets about Glorfindel? Hopefully it's good, and I sincerely apologise if it's OOC

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « trick-or-treat »

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 147 words | TWs : None

Still yawning, you can’t help but be envious of how quickly elves are able to shake off sleep and begin to go about their normal day (you still thank the elves who are willing to get coffee from the Shire for you on a daily basis). In fact, your cup has only just made it to your lips when you see a familiar face appear from the doorway. Glorfindel immediately lights up as he sees you, coming over, “You’re doing remarkably well for so early in the day.”

Gesturing to the coffee, you stare up at him. “And you seem to have already absorbed all your energy from the sunlight.”

“Or perhaps I’m simply happy to see you.” A small smile appears on his face, as he looks you up and down. “After all, you seem to light up when you see me as well, my dear.”

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Me in Middle Earth avoiding every question about family because if they knew I didn’t see my parents they’d all cry

(It’s good I don’t see them and dysfunctional families are hella normal here but there they’d all cry, especially Frodo and Elrond)

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe Origin Ch 3

A/n - Sorry for the delay. I just delved to deep into what will Elves think of the technology and items unfamiliar to them. I made way to much dialogues for it and the chapter became too long. So, I removed it all together. If you want to read it I'll but it in a bonus chapter.

Any back to the story

As the elves delved into the mysterious woman’s belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Among the items, they discovered clothing of a similar fashion to what she wore, confirming the uniqueness of her attire. Strips of expensive fabric hinted at a meticulous attention to detail in her possessions. The food items, unlike anything seen in Elven or Middle-earth cultures, sparked curiosity. Exotic aromas wafted from packages that bore no resemblance to the lembas or other fare known to the elves. Moreover, the elves encountered objects previously unseen in Middle-earth. Mysterious in both form and material, these items were beyond their realm of knowledge. They exchanged glances, realizing that the answers to the woman’s origins might be hidden within these enigmatic possessions.

 The mystery deepened, drawing them further into the enigma that had unexpectedly arrived at their haven but their curiosity was put in hold because of the maid servant announced that the creature woke up, behaved Frantically and fell into fitifull sleep again. They all exited to see the creature

As the woman stirred, her eyes gradually opening to the unfamiliar surroundings, the elves observed her with a sense of reverence. The air was charged with anticipation, for in her waking moments lay the promise of unlocking the enigma that had woven itself into the fabric of their haven.

Glorfindel looked at the creature, she looked restless right now. Her pretty features were marked with distress. The woman began to stir again. Glorfindel could feel Gildor’s posture suddenly going rigid. The woman woke up again, looked at them with a bewildered face and blurted out something in foreign tongue which Glorfindel could only make out as

“What the Fuck”

 

 In the hazy moments between sleep and wakefulness, she felt the disorienting shift from the rhythmic motion of the train to an unfamiliar stillness. Her eyes fluttered open, searching for the familiar contours of her train compartment, but instead, she found herself in a spacious room filled with vibrant colors. A jolt of panic surged through her as she realized she wasn’t alone. The bed beneath her was soft, unlike the cold, impersonal surfaces she associated with kidnapper scenarios in movies. The room exuded warmth, a stark contrast to the chill of fear that gripped her. With trembling hands, she reached for the glasses she habitually kept within arm’s reach. The world around her remained a blur, causing her heart to pound against her chest. The absence of visual clarity heightened her sense of vulnerability. Where was she? How did she end up in this unfamiliar place?

As she fumbled for her glasses, her fingertips grazed a loose tunic of soft cotton that draped over her. It wasn’t the attire she remembered wearing when she fell asleep on the train. Her hair, usually secured in a bun, cascaded freely down her shoulders. She could make out were she was but everything felt like blurry shaking mess. The spaciousness of the room and the absence of ominous shadows began to alleviate the intensity of her disorientation. She fell down on the bed again.

The next time, she was awake of her surrounding. She dared not open her eyes fearing that realistic nightmare was a reality. She started to feel her surroundings, the warm blanket embracing her form, the gentle lighting that bathed the room, and the absence of any immediate threat. So, she was still here. It was not a dream. Her heart pounded in her chest. Everything felt too much. She couldfeel her body trembling. The question lingered—how had she transitioned from a moving train to this mysterious haven?

She refused to open her eyes till her heartbeat began to slow down. As her racing heart began to steady, she pondered the possibilities. Was it a dream? A delusion? Or had she truly been transported to a place beyond her understanding? The answers lay shrouded in the enigma of the unfamiliar room, waiting to be unveiled as she navigated this unexpected journey. She finally found courage to open her eyes. In the disorienting blur without her glasses, she found herself surrounded by figures draped in unfamiliar attire. Their voices melded into a symphony of incomprehensible sounds, leaving her bewildered and struggling to make sense of the situation. She saw tall figures standing near her bed. She screamed "What the fuck!".

She looked frantically to see clearing, her hands flying around her to find her glasses but everything seemed different. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She closed her eyes again. No, this is not real, she thought to herself, just take a deep breath, even if its real, its better to face reality with less adrenaline rush. She heard an unknown voice speaking in an unfamiliar language.

"Please let me focus", She muttered but incomprehensible chatter continued. The voices seemed to get closer to her. She decided to face them. She opened her eyes again. The figures were closer. The were....men dressed in.....robes?They were speaking something but she couldn't understand a word. She attempted to respond, her words stumbling in an attempt to bridge the linguistic gap.

Wait, where am I? Can anyone understand me?”

 The room echoed with a language she couldn’t grasp, and the figures, seeming more like shadows in her blurred vision, continued their conversation in more unintelligible speech. As the frustration of being unable to communicate mounted, her panic intensified. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision even further. The alien surroundings, the strange language, and the inability to make herself understood became overwhelming.

“Please, someone, help me understand. Where am I?

The figures exchanged glances, their expressions indecipherable. One of them, seemingly perceiving her distress, gestured for her to follow. With a mixture of fear and desperation, she stumbled after the shadowy figure, her cries echoing in the unfamiliar room.

 “Why can’t you understand me? Where am I going?”, she muttered to herself while walking.

The figures continued conversing amongst themselves, the strange language closing a linguistic barrier that seemed insurmountable. The room’s colors blurred into a mosaic of confusion as she clung to the hope of finding answers. As they led her through the mysterious realm, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being a lost wanderer in a place that defied explanation yet seemed to her very familiar, her cries of confusion echoing through the walls of palace.

 Lord Círdan, Glorfindel, Gildor, Lumion, and Fearon came in the room where their mysterious guest was staying. When they saw her walking up and saying something in a melodious voice. They began to talk. Lord Círdan was first to speak, “Greetings, traveler from beyond. Can you understand our words?”

The creature responded with a stream of sounds that were foreign to the elven ears, leaving the wise beings perplexed. Glorfindel ears perked up, he said to Lord Círdan, “Her language eludes us. We must find a way to bridge this gap and understand her plight.”

Lumion, quiped in, “I’ve never encountered such linguistic diversity. Our words seem to dance away from her understanding.”

 As the creature grew more distressed, her attempts at communication turned into heart-wrenching cries. The elves, moved by compassion, sought a way to ease her turmoil.

Fearon, seeing her pretty face distressed was unable to contain her worry. She sople softly, “We cannot let her suffer in confusion. There must be a way to connect with her. If we cant understand her, we can at least soothe her. There's nothing more soothing that nature. Lets take her to the gardens.”Gildor mused, “Look at the patterns on her belongings. They speak of gardens and life. Indeed, let us bring her to the haven’s garden.”

Lord Círdan looked at her shaking form and sighed. He did not expected such fearful reaction from this little creature. He gently guided her to the garden. She followed him,her eyes downcast and form shivering. He wanted to hold her and tell her she was safe but he was fearing that might trigger intense reaction in her. Guiding the creature gently, he led her to the serene sanctuary of the garden, where a tapestry of flowers and foliage unfolded. He saw her looking at the flowers. He gentky smiled, “In the language of leaves and blossoms, find comfort. Let the garden’s beauty speak when words fail.”

As they walked amidst the vibrant flora, the creature’s tears began to subside. The intricate patterns on her belongings seemed to resonate with the natural tapestry surrounding them. The creature, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the fragrance of blossoms, started to calm. The elves, though unable to decipher her words, shared a moment of understanding through the silent language of the garden—a universal solace that transcended the boundaries of spoken communication.

 Her mind began to clear from the fog of confusion. Determined to understand her predicament, she made a gesture, a silent plea, for her glasses. She looked at the creatures that surrounded her. She looked at the bearded old man. As they had eye contact, the man seemed to freeze. It seemed like her was lost. What happened to them? she thought to herself, What the fuck is going on here!?

~○~○~○~○~○~○

Taglist @elvyshiarieko , @asianbutnotjapanese @bobitoo08

What to be in my taglist? Just drop a message ❤️

[animatorweirdo]

Unexpected Reunion

You reunite with an old friend and hear about events that occurred during your time on ice. You decide to set your feelings to the side and start gathering ingredients for your medicine. Unfortunately, your trip to find Moonflowers takes a dark turn when you discover two possibly orphaned elven children and reunite with someone you hoped to avoid.

() = Elvish

Warnings: mentions of the second kin slaying, dead characters, angst, mentions of being frozen, troubled feelings, going through woods alone, smelling blood and smoke, nearly getting stabbed, fear, hiding, and getting a blade on your neck.

Chapter 2

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The water nearly tickled your skin. You took in a deep breath before allowing yourself to be fully submerged in the warm water. A satisfied groan left you as your muscles relaxed from the warmth and the weightless sensation. Soap foam and bubbles floated above the water, and you finally scrubbed the dirt, sweat, and grease from your body. 

Taking a bath had never felt better after traveling in a sickened untamed land and walking around the city the whole day without a destination. You need to thank Melui for letting you take a bath and stay the night at his house. 

You leaned against the bathtub’s edge and stared at the ceiling, wondering about everything that had happened. It was no wonder so many things had happened. It's been over sixty years. 

How did you survive sixty years in ice? 

It was no mystery why Camilla would think you had died. You were certain you were dead too when those spirits caught you. You could still hear Camilla's scream at the entrance when the spirits froze your feet, making you unable to move. You could still remember reaching out to her hand before the ice froze your whole body and your mind got taken by the cold darkness. 

A tear fell from your eye when you thought about your friend. If it's been sixty years, then there was a high chance that Camilla had already passed away from old age. You doubt she could have survived as a ninety-year-old granny when Beleriand was in a state like this. She was smart and resourceful, but even she had limits. Not to mention, her family had some genetic illnesses that should act up during old age. 

You took a deep breath… trying to prevent yourself from breaking down in tears. 

You wonder how Maglor reacted to your supposed death. There was no doubt that he would have been devastated. After seven years of a happy relationship, you suddenly die of sudden circumstances. That would definitely have a negative effect on him. Could your death have taken a part in his spiraling to such a path? 

How would he think if he knew you were still alive? 

You shook your head and tried to stop thinking. You first need to ensure that the things you have heard about him are true. If anyone knew better what happened in Doriath– it would be Melui. In the meantime, you will also believe Camilla might still be alive, living in a lone cottage with a hundred cats, or something, until you learn more about her fate. 

After cleaning yourself, you arrive at the kitchen area, drying your hair with a towel and wearing borrowed clothes. Melui was preparing dinner and two vials of familiar-looking liquid sat on the table. 

Melui's home was big and rather nice. The kitchen area was attached to a large living room on the left while a set of stairs were on the right, leading to upstairs where bedrooms were located. The design of the walls and the colors were rather calm and different than what you were used to seeing in Himring. The house was empty since Melui’s family was away and Melui had stayed behind to watch over it. 

"Hey, (Name). How was the bath? Good I hope," Melui questioned after setting a pot on the table. You looked in and smelled something delicious, fish soup perhaps? 

"Yeah. It was good since it has been sixty years since the last time I took a bath," you said, making Melui release a chuckle. "You sure your sister doesn't mind me using her clothes?" you questioned as you adjusted the blouse and the dress. "It's fine. Those are pretty old so I doubt she even remembers having them," Melui said as you took the vials and drank the content. 

You grinched at the taste after drinking them both. "I never get used to this taste. Thank you for making them for me. The beast has been silent but I do not want to take any risks," you said and set the vials back down on the table.

"It's alright. I'm happy to help you with anything," Melui replied.

"Thanks... good to know you're still around at least. I don't know where I would be if you didn't find me," You smiled. Melui returned the smile. "Come on. I prepared some dinner and perhaps you can tell me in detail how you survived sixty years unchanged," he said and you both sat at the table to eat dinner. 

The dinner went smoothly even though you weren't a big fan of fish food. Melui had somehow made them taste delicious. You explained from the beginning how you and Camilla went to look for a rare herb in the cave and how you got attacked by the spirits, resulting in you freezing and somehow surviving until something broke you out. You even told him your theory of how you could have survived. 

"If my memory serves me correctly, I believe those spirits you described were Frost wraiths, spirits of the dead that had died under freezing conditions yet couldn't move on due to their hate," Melui explained. "They trap those who end up lost in their territory in ice and feed from the warmth of their souls until there's nothing left," he added.

"Sounds accurate, but I don't feel any different in my soul. How come they haven't eaten mine?" you asked while buttering your bread. "Your curse could be the reason. The beast is supposed to be affiliated with winter, right? So, perhaps it made your soul too cold for them to eat," Melui suggested.

"Maybe... but that doesn't explain the warm sensation I felt before I broke through the ice," you said. 

"Perhaps that necklace of yours could be the reason. Is that a dwarven rune you're wearing?" Melui pointed at the silver amulet resting against your chest.

"Oh, this?" you took hold of the amulet. "It... was a gift from an old dwarf who lived in Himring. It has some runes carved into it and is warm to the touch," you explained as the metal amulet warmed your fingers.

"Interesting-- I heard some dwarven runes may hold some hidden spells. Maybe that rune helped you break out from that ice," Melui stated.

"I doubt that. If it really worked like that then maybe it would have broken me out years ago," You chuckled and looked at him seriously, nearly worried to ask what you were going to ask of him. 

"Melui. I heard some things about Doriath and my lover, Maglor. I told you about him in my letters," you started and Melui nodded silently.

"I heard... he had committed terrible things and I want to know if they are true," you explained. "Were you still in Doriath when the kin slaying happened?" you asked carefully. 

Melui was quiet before looking at you. "Unfortunately yes," he answered. You stared at him before continuing. "So... all things of him and his brothers committing it are true?" you asked. "I'm afraid so..." Melui murmured quietly.

"I did not see your lover when it happened, but I did see how his brothers and their people came and started killing the people of Menegroth," Melui started. "They mostly kept their attention on those who willingly fought back, but then they started killing those who tried to run away," he explained. "I saw how the blonde one of the Feanorians fought the young king Dior in a deadly combat. They ended up killing each other. His wife perished in the attack and from what I have heard they left their twin sons to die alone in the forest. It was middle of winter as well," he explained and you nearly teared up at the thought of two young kids alone in the cold.  

"It was horrible," Melui nearly sniffed in tears. "And just when I and Nelle became engaged," he revealed and you felt light-hearted for a moment. 

"Oh, congrats. Is Nelle still around?" you asked. "No..." Melui shook his head and your smile dropped. 

"She was killed by one of the Noldor when she tried to defend one of the injured. It was not in her nature to harm anyone, so she didn't even try to fight them yet they still killed her. A sword through the abdomen," he explained. Your heart ached painfully when you saw his rather empty expression.

"I'm so sorry, Melui," you uttered.

He shook his head. "Don't be. It's been years now. I had family members to care for so I learned to heal from the sorrow," he explained. "And if Eru and the Valars are kind to us then perhaps I will see her again in the Blessed realm once my time to sail there has come," he said and took a drink from his glass. 

"I know it is not my right to tell you what to do next, but I advise you not to go to see your lover. He not the same elf you loved sixty years ago," Melui stated.

"Where is he and his brothers now?" you questioned.

"Last time I heard, they relocated to Amon Ereb," Melui answered. "It is not too far from here, perhaps a day's travel if you go on a horse," he continued. "I do not know what would happen if you go to him. I'm afraid you might receive an unpleasant reaction," he looked at you seriously.

"I get it... I think… I will concern myself with getting the necessary ingredients for my proper medicine. I don't think this would be the best time to show myself either," you said. Melui looked at you sympathetically. 

"I'm sorry things are like this," Melui said. "It's okay... I didn't expect much good when I first walked out of that cave and saw the world it is now," you reassured.

"If it's any comfort. I am willing to help you find the ingredients for the medicine," Melui said.

"Really? That would help a lot," you smiled.

"Of course, you're my friend. Just tell me what you need and I see what I can do," he said. 

"Well, the list is a bit long. I think we can find most of the ingredients in the city, but the Moonflowers are the most important," you said.

"Moonflowers? I do not think we can find any of them here, but I heard they are quite common at the Mouth of Sirion," Melui answered. "It will be a long travel thought," he added.

"That's fine by me. I can make the travel if I get a horse and some supplies to get there," you said.

"You can borrow one of my family horses, but are you certain you are willing to go back there?" Melui asked.

You smiled at him. "I will be fine. I did survive sixty years in ice and the trip here," you remarked, causing Melui to chuckle.

"I nearly envy your determination. Alright— Moonflowers grow in the nearby forest in Sirion, but there is also the Havens of Sirion. It is a city made up of refugees from Gondolin and Doriath. I have been there once. If you can't find any Moonflowers in the forest, you can go there and ask the people. They are helpful for those in need," Melui explained. "Nice," you nodded.

“Now let us eat. It will be a long day tomorrow,” Melui said and you two finished dining before retreating to the beds. 

The bed felt comfortable beneath you. However, you were not able to find sleep due to your mind being filled with thoughts on everything you had heard. Morgoth had taken over the world, you have survived living sixty years in ice, and now, Maglor and his brothers had gone down the path to commit horrid war crimes. It was a lot to handle, and you were not certain what to make of it. 

You nearly wanted to believe it was just a really bad dream. 

You brushed those thoughts away and closed your eyes. There was no use thinking and feeling sad about it. You needed strength for tomorrow to find the Moonflowers for your medicine. Maglor and everything can wait for later, even though your heart aches over everything that has happened. 

The morning graced the city. You were grateful to hear normal sounds such as birds singing in the nearby trees and the sounds of vendors as they opened their shops for the day. You would listen to them over the sounds you had heard lurking in the dark outside the city. 

You were patiently waiting at Melui's doorway, dressed in proper clothes for traveling and carrying bags for food and necessary items to collect herbs. You felt nervous to go alone but were confident you would be fine after memorizing the map and paths fully and prepared to deal with any situation possible. Technically, this was your first time traveling without Camilla. She never really trusted you to go alone without getting into some sort of trouble, especially since the incidents where you got accidentally separated. In your defense, you were in a difficult spot during those times and didn’t have the medicine to stop the beast from taking control of your body. 

However, this time you were not at the risk of losing control, so there was a high chance for you to avoid any trouble you might encounter on your way.

Melui approached you with a saddled white horse. You stood up, ready to leave for your trip. 

"This is Seastar. She has mostly been used for pulling wagons and carriages, but she's used to traveling alone with a rider. She will get you where you need to be," Melui handed the reins to you. You petted the horse, who seemed accepting of your attention. "Thank you. I'll make sure I bring her back safely," you said and climbed on the horse. You carefully handled the reins and then looked down at Melui. 

"Be careful... something unexpected might happen and I do not want to see you hurt," Melui uttered with worry in his eyes. 

"I know... but I am certain I can handle it. And to be fair a lot of unexpected things happen when I'm around, so it wouldn't be the first time" you said, making him shake his head with a smile. 

"Go now while you still have sunlight," he said. 

"Yeah, I might end up spending the night somewhere, so don't panic if I don't return," you stated.  "Okay, see you later. Take care,"

"Take care," Melui replied as you clicked your heels and rode away, eventually leaving the city. 

You rode through the safe path out of the city, into the wide lands that had not yet been infected with Morgoth's influence. It felt nice feeling the clean air brush against your face as you continued galloping. You made sure to take breaks and check on the map while letting Seastar drink before continuing your journey toward your destination, the Havens of Sirion. 

The sun had begun to settle when you finally arrived in the forest. You could hear the ocean in the distance and the air was chilly. It's been a long time since you've seen the sea or visited any beaches. Once you find the Moonflowers, maybe you could check the city after all.

You jumped down from Seastar. The forest looked too thick for her to get through. Uttering words in elvish, you told her to stay put and walked toward the forest, letting the white mare eat grass while waiting. 

The forest was thick, full of moss, and moist ground. Most likely due to being near the great river and the sea. Crows and Owls were hooting in the trees as it became rather dark for you to see. You checked the caverns and rocks, but no luck so far until you reached the last cave and noticed something glowing inside. 

You jumped over the fallen logs and saw white flowers growing on the cavern wall, glowing brightly as the moon in the sky. A victorious grin dressed your face as you took out a small sickle to cut them out. Your luck was finally looking up. 

You cut down a few of the Moonflowers and even a few with a seedling so you can grow them yourself. There were quite a lot of them. The place must have been fertile with light and songs for them to grow so many. 

After picking enough, you strapped the sickle back on your bag and prepared to leave until a strong smell of smoke filled your nostrils. Confused, you sniffed the air and then looked up to the sky, finding rising smoke pillars coming from where the city of the refugees should be. A deep worry settled within you while you stared at the smoke in the sky. Was the city being attacked? 

The scent of blood suddenly invaded your nose. You shut your mouth as you nearly gagged from the intensity of the smell, which confirmed your suspicions. The city was being attacked and it was a total bloodbath. It explained why you didn't encounter any patrols on your way even though Melui said the people of the haven were very guarded. 

Your ears heard something and from the corner of your eye, you saw a small shadow coming at you with a knife. 

"Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow!" You stopped the child just in time before they could stab you with the knife. The child backed away still holding the knife toward you with terror in his eyes. "Easy! easy—! I'm not here to hurt you!" You held your hands up while staring back at the little elven boy. Your eyes then noticed another child, hiding behind a rock in the cave, he looked exactly like the child in front of you, so they must be twins. 

Worry peaked within you as you stared at them. They had blood on their clothes and didn't look older than a 6-year-old. Your mind quickly pieced the pieces and you concluded the boys must have escaped from the city during the attack. 

"Hey, it's okay," you kneeled, trying to make yourself look less threatening to them. "(I am a friend. You're safe)" you spoke in elvish, hoping it would calm them down. The boy in front of you seemed to calm down, cautiously keeping his weapon close to him and staring at you wearily. 

"What are you two doing here? What has happened?" you softly asked as the other boy slowly emerged from his hiding place. 

"You... you are not one of the bad elves?" He asked. His voice nearly came out like a whisper. 

You looked at him confused. "No. I'm a human actually," you pulled back your hood, revealing your ears for them to see. They seemed to calm more. "My name is (Name). Who are these bad elves you are talking about?" you asked. 

The elf boy began to cry. "They came out of nowhere and began hurting people..." he sobbed. "We came here to hide to wait for Naneth, but..." he sniffed. "I think they have hurt Naneth too!" he said and his brother began to sob too. Your heart painfully ached for them and a sense of protectiveness overtook you. 

"Hey..." you caught the crying boy’s attention. 

"It's okay. What's your name?" you asked. "El...Elrond," he said and you then look at his brother. "And what's yours?" you asked. "Elros," he answered, rather angrily. 

"Okay, Elrond, Elros, do you possibly know why these bad elves decided to hurt your people and Naneth?" you asked, having a bad feeling over the situation. 

"Naneth… she said they came because they wanted the stone in her necklace," Elrond answered. "A stone? As in... a silmaril?" you questioned. Elrond nodded. "That's what Naneth and Ada called the stone," he answered. 

You felt frozen for a moment. So the bad elves were Maglor and his brothers? They had committed another kin slaying for the silmaril? 

"Fuck—" you silently uttered and then you all heard a loud snap in the forest. Elros and Elrond automatically panicked. "They're coming!" Elrond said fearfully. You carefully glanced over the rock and saw elves in familiar Noldor armor coming toward you. 

"Quickly! Come with me!" you looked toward the twins. 

The Noldor soldiers came to the gave and investigated it. You and the twins were hiding behind some bushes, you listened to them talk and felt sweat forming on your skin. They were looking for the twins. 

You glanced at the twins hiding by your side. Elros looked angry and ready to fight, while Elrond sobbed silently, terrified of the situation. You couldn't bring yourself to leave them at the mercy of the Noldor soldiers, not after hearing what they had done to the last pair of twins Melui mentioned.

Your eyes quickly scanned for a route back to your horse then you grabbed a small rock off the ground. The twins looked at you carefully as you quickly tossed the rock in the opposite direction. The sound of the rock hitting something caught the elves’ attention and they quickly left to investigate the sound, taking the bait. 

"Come on!" you whispered, leading the twins out while the elves were distracted. Elrond clung to your hand as the three of you finally reached the edge of the forest and your horse.

You quickly picked them up one by one upon Seastars. "Okay. We're gonna go see a friend of mine. You will be safe and we will see if we can help you get back to any relatives," you explained after picking Elros on the saddle. 

Elrond's eyes widened as he looked behind you. "(Name)! Look out!" he shrieked as you felt a blade suddenly rest beside your neck. "You will remain still if you want to live," a familiar voice said and you slowly raised your hand in surrender. You remained deadly still and cursed within your mind. Shit, you really have a talent for getting into trouble when you're on your own. 

And you could recognize that voice anywhere. It was none other than Maglor, except his voice sounded more tired and less gentle than before. You now feared his reaction more than anything. 

"Turn around," Maglor commanded. "Leave her alone!" Elros snapped at him. "Elros. It's okay," you softly said. You took a deep breath before slowly turning around, avoiding making any sudden movement that could make Maglor slice your thought. 

You locked your eyes with him. His eyes nearly looked lifeless, most likely from the fight in the city and years of bad things happening all over, but when he locked his eyes with you— they were filled with shock. His hold on the sword began to waver and he backed away from you. 

"(Name)...?" he uttered as he stared at you like you were a ghost. 

"Hello, Maglor," you started awkwardly. "Long time no see," you said, waiting for what would happen next. 

[crazed-flower]

(Prolog)

Warnings: curse words, typo, bad grammars.

A/n: before anything, i want to thank @batsyforyou for putting up with my shitty writing and messed up grammar by being my proofreader and helping me edit lots of stuff. I really love and i am very grateful for your help in this one and for the next ones. ❤❤❤❤

It was a beautiful day outside. Manwë sat down in his garden, content to feel the grass under him and admire the beauty of the flowers around him.

But his day of leisure was cut short when a blinding light appeared beside him. Only when the light was subdued, did he see what it was.

It was a little girl, clutching two bags in her tiny little hands.

She wore strange clothing, a black skirt with a red and white line made into a tattersall pattern that barely reached to her knees, a slightly dirty white thin shirt with short sleeves, a sharped end ribbon tied onto her collar, a strange-looking black outer layer with the same pattern as her skirt, a pair of black and white socks, and shoes with laces.

The little girl looked like an elfling in Manwë's eyes, so small and fragile. But he knew that this girl was no ordinary one, after all, she appeared within a blinding light right beside him, as if she was sent by Eru himself.

Realizing that he could not keep this to himself, he lifted the unconscious little girl in his arms along with her bags and carried her to his halls.

━━━━━━━

The moment Manwë arrived in his throne room, Varda immediately approached him, especially after spotting the unconscious little girl in her husband's arms.

"Who is this, my dear?" She asked. She put her hand on her husband's arm as she looked at the little girl whose hand was now clutching her husband's outer robe tightly.

Manwë lightly shook his head. "I do not know, she appeared beside me while I was in the garden."

Varda looks at her husband, confusion written on her face. Then she looks at the unconscious little girl again.

"She is quite strange, is she not?"

"Indeed, her fëa is unlike what i have seen." He shrugged, his hair falling from his shoulder. "Although i must admit i am no expert, that would be Namo's place."

Varda smiled at her husband, "Then we shall inform him."

"You are right, my Queen. Please bring the child to the empty guest room of our halls. I will send a message for Namo."

With that Varda took the still unconscious little girl from her husband's arms along with the bags, before marching out of the throne room. And Manwë called his herald, Eonwë, to inform Namo of their little guest.

━━━━━━

Varda carried the little girl to a guest room where she gently lay the little girl on the bed and put the bags beside the bed.

She inspects the little girl's body, finding some injuries and bruises on her.

So, Varda begins on tending to the still-unconscious little girl's body. Placing bandages on her injuries and salve on her bruises.

While Varda is still focused on taking care of the unconscious little girl, Manwë has entered the room. He stood a little bit behind his wife, watching as his beloved Queen put salve and bandages on the small and thin body of the girl.

"Has Namo been informed of our little guest?" Varda asked, glancing at her husband before continuing on her task.

"He has and he is making his way over as we speak."

"That is good"

After she is finished, Varda puts away all the things she uses. Then she walked back to the bed and knelt beside it. "I have noticed earlier while i was tending to the girl's injuries that her ears are round."

Cocking her head, she delicately pushed the little girl's hair away wanting her husband to see it by himself. "Maybe she is a new creation?"

Manwë hid his hand in his robe's sleeves and pondered. "It is possible but i doubt it."

"I wonder how she got here"

Before Manwë could say another word Varda stood sharply from her place and made her way back to him.

"The child wakes."

The girl opened her eyes slowly, blinking twice before her eyes widened and she sat up abruptly. She looked around the room and when she saw them she froze.

With her eyes are wide and her mouth agape, one only word escaped her mouth.

"Anjing"

Taglist: @yuan1819

Series masterlist

For those people out there wondering what the hell Anjing means. It's means dog. But it can be a curse word and it can mean different things on different occasions, but in this one it means Fuck.

And that is prolog! I had so much fun writing this one, plus the help from my excellent and wonderful proofreader.

[doodle-pops]

Haunted House With The Lords of Gondolin

Synopsis: In which you, modern reader, set up a haunted house for them to experience during your time in Gondolin.

When you first told Turgon and the Lords of Gondolin about the haunted house you were setting up for the autumn festival, they had raised eyebrows and shared sceptical glances. You assured them it was all in good fun and something humans did for entertainment back in your world, but still, they remained unconvinced.

But the festival spirit was strong, and eventually, Turgon himself declared they would try it. You had the help of other elves from the city to dress as ghosts and creatures, altering the interior with traps, hidden rooms, eerie wind effects, and, of course, the classic something brushing past your leg trick. It took a lot of convincing and detailed instructions, but the elves, curious about human customs, went all in.

By the time the haunted house was complete, it had transformed from a mere concept into a genuinely spooky experience.

“A house…haunted?” Glorfindel had asked, his voice laced with doubt. “We’ve seen the spirits of the cursed, battled creatures from Morgoth’s nightmares, and you want us to walk through a house filled with—what, exactly?”

“I promise, it’s harmless…mostly,” you said, trying to hide your grin. You could see Maeglin raising an eyebrow, his arms crossed as if to question your definition of “harmless.”

Glorfindel smiled politely, ever the golden knight, radiating calm confidence. “I’ll go in first then,” he offered. Naturally, he went to open the door and—WHAM—the fake skeleton you set up dropped right on him.

He jumped back, almost crashing into Rog, who couldn’t help but let out a booming laugh. “What is this trickery?” Rog was clearly amused, and Glorfindel stood there blinking in disbelief as the others snickered. “Oh fuc–A skeleton! Really?” Glorfindel said, shaking his head as he composed himself.

Ecthelion walked beside him as he chuckled under his breath. “It’s just a skeleton. We’re not in the middle of the Nirnaeth here.”

Inside, the halls were dimly lit by flickering lanterns, the walls draped in shadowy cloth that gave the impression of shifting figures. Elves, hidden, moaned softly, their voices echoing down the corridors. Even Turgon, normally so composed, narrowed his eyes in suspicion as the sounds seemed to grow louder, more oppressive.

“I think the house is alive,” Maeglin said flatly, his voice betraying a hint of unease. Rog snorted, rolling his eyes, but even he was scanning the corners warily.

They had barely taken ten steps into the first room when the first scare hit—an elf dressed as a wraith leapt out from a darkened doorway, his hand reaching for Ecthelion’s shoulder. He spun on instinct, fists balled up to strike before you shouted, “Hey! Don’t beat my elves up!”

“Lucky. I almost punched him,” Ecthelion muttered, placing his arms down but eyeing the wraith warily. “Good reflexes,” Glorfindel smirked, but you could see the tension in his jaw, as though he was ready to fight the next ghost himself.

Egalmoth was one who was already causing half the chaos, poking at things, trying to figure out how you rigged the traps. He pulled at a loose cobweb you had set up, only for it to trigger a bucket of fake blood to splash down on him. “Agh! What is this?” he yelped, staring at his now blood-streaked robes. The others burst out laughing as he grumbled, wiping his face. “You…humans.”

As they moved deeper into the house, the monsters became bolder. At one point, a trap door opened beneath Turgon’s feet, and he dropped halfway into the floor before being rescued by a group of skeletons. The sound of him cursing loudly as he tried to climb out of the trap had you doubling over with laughter outside. “We’re going to have a serious talk later.”

Galdor had been quiet for most of the tour until a particularly convincing spectre dropped from the ceiling, screeching and clawing towards him. He let out a yelp, stumbling back into Egalmoth, who laughed far too loudly. “Perhaps the haunted houses of Men aren’t so dull after all,” Egalmoth mused, though his fists were curled up, just in case.

Turgon, leading the group, maintained his stoic façade, but even he flinched, again, when a banshee-like figure screeched and lunged at him from a hidden space. His hand instinctively shot out his fists, but after a moment, he simply shook his head with a resigned sigh. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to end up fighting my people,” he muttered, though there was a spark of amusement in his eyes

Meanwhile, Egalmoth, again, had almost punched one of the actors in the face after they tried to drag him through a fake wall. “I nearly broke their jaw. I thought I was getting kidnapped,” he whined, clearly unimpressed. And Maeglin who had been next to him was struggling not to laugh. “I told you the house was alive.”

One of the fake monsters grabbed Ecthelion’s boot, and instinctively, he kicked it, nearly knocking the poor elf in disguise out cold. All you could do was groan at the poor elf doing his job and Thel’s quick methods of self-defense.

Rog, on the other hand, wasn’t having any of it. When a series of hanging cobwebs and unseen hands began to brush against his arms and legs, he let out a deep, annoyed growl. “I am not being taken by a fake ghost,” he declared, shoving past the invisible ropes of the trap as if it were a mere inconvenience. The elves hidden in the walls whispered hurried apologies.

Glorfindel was initially the most sceptical of the bunch, but actually found himself impressed by the mechanics of the house. After he dodged a spectral blade that swung down from the ceiling, he let out an appreciative whistle. “Now this, this is clever.” But when a creature crawled out of a hidden corner, grabbing at his legs, his calm composure shattered. With a loud, startled shout, he kicked and stomped it away. “Not today! I’ll fight you for real!”

Cool and composed as ever, Maeglin seemed the least affected—at first. But when one of the creatures dressed as a dark wraith chased him through a winding passage at full speech laughing, nearly separating him from the others, you caught him muttering curses under his breath. His usual calm exterior cracked just enough for you to enjoy the moment of him being rattled.

By the time they reached the final room—a grand hall filled with eerie, glowing mist and a replica of Jack Skellington on a throne—the group was ready to be done. The actor stood with glowing pumpkin head in hand, and pointed dramatically at the group. “You shall not leave!”

Rog wasted no time and raised a fist. “Try me.”

Clearly reconsidering, the actor quickly backed down while you, from the control room, had to suppress your laughter. The group stormed out of the house, various expressions of annoyance, relief, and amusement etched on their faces.

“Well,” Ecthelion said after a long pause, running a hand through his hair, “that was…something.”

Galdor shook his head, still a bit shaken from being nearly dragged off into one of the hidden rooms. “You humans and your sense of fun.”

Turgon was uncharacteristically silent, though you could tell from the way his lips twitched that he had enjoyed it more than he was letting on. Glorfindel, meanwhile, clapped you on the back with a grin. “You’ve got a talent for this. Scared the wits out of us.”

“Next time,” Maeglin added, straightening his tunic and trying to act like he hadn’t been running from imaginary wraiths moments ago, “let me design the traps. We’ll make it really terrifying.”

Glorfindel just shook his head. “I’m getting too old for this.”

“You’re immortal,” you shot back with a grin, to which he only waved dismissively.

You could tell that, despite the initial scepticism, they had actually enjoyed themselves—though you knew none of them would openly admit it.

As the group dispersed to enjoy the rest of the festival, you caught Turgon glancing back at the haunted house one last time. His expression was thoughtful, as though he was already planning the next time they’d attempt your human madness. “We should do this next year, but I’d like to help next time.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings @hermaeuswhora @mcwentfandomtraveling @zheiya

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[mimilind]

Sent to Middle-earth - Part 1

♡ ♡ ♡

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 2700

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

♡ ♡ ♡

1. Spider’s Web

The huge spider took another step towards you. You tried to back away, but there was a tree behind you, and you could get no further. Trapped.

A hairy foot crushed the basket of bilberries you had worked so hard to gather. As you stared into the monster’s multiple eyes, helplessly awaiting your death, you cursed the magician for sending you here – and not for the first time. Middle-earth was not a cozy, romantic world with exciting adventures around each corner, and where everyone was a badass fighter. It was dark and dangerous, you were still your normal, non-warrior self, and you hated being here.

“Go away,” you told the spider in your broken Sindarin, the language your new family had taught you. 

It did not reply, and instead came closer. Its stench filled your nostrils, making you dizzy, and you could not look away from its black, dead eyes. In a last effort to protect yourself, you covered your face with your cloak.

It did not help. You felt a sharp sting through the stout wool and straight into your belly. As the poison spread through your veins, your body went limp. 

Still awake, but unable to move or even speak, you were dragged up on the spider’s web. It swiftly spun you around, covering you head to toe in sticky silk. Instead of devouring you directly, it left you hanging there like a big burrito, perhaps wanting to wait until you were dead. 

When you were alone, you felt utterly miserable. Your stay in Middle-earth had been no picnic so far, but this topped the list as your worst experience. And likely your last one, too.

Why had you ever gone into that stupid box? 

But it had been a funfair, and he was not a real magician – or so you had thought – and you had played along. After entering his vanishing box, you had said where you wanted to be sent (Middle-earth, of course!), and the next thing you knew, you stood in a dark forest outside a cabin, with an elf family staring at you like you had popped into existence right before their eyes. This, you later learned, was exactly what had happened.

That was over a year ago now, and still you had no idea how it had been possible, or if you could ever return home. If you became spider-food now, would you wake up in your own world again?

There was a rustle above you. The spider returning? You tried to see, but your eyes were partly covered, and you could only perceive vague shapes.

You heard a twang, a shrill screech, and then something big and dark fell past you, hitting the ground with a soft squelch.

“Got it.” The voice was strong and melodious; an elf voice, but none you recognized.

“Well done,” said another. “Now let us destroy these eggs.”

“We continue tracking its partner, and you catch up with us when you are finished.” The third voice sounded further away.

Whoever the elves were, they had not seen you. You tried to call out, but your mouth was full of sticky web.

“Mpff! Mph!”

“Did you hear something?”

“Up there. It has caught someone.”

You felt the web tremble and heard the voices mutter and grumble as they tried to avoid getting caught in it while cutting you loose. And then you fell, crashing down, hip first. The impact would probably have been painful, but the spider poison had made you numb, and you felt nothing.

“Sorry about that. It was the only way to get you down,” said the first voice kindly, as its owner began to peel away the cocoon from around you. When your face was freed, you could see him clearly. It was a male elf – an ellon, as they were called – with an unusual golden blonde hair color. He wore a hunter’s green tunic, and a quiver of arrows strapped across his chest. Could it be…?

“I am Legolas of the woodland guard. Who are you, and why does a human walk alone in these woods?” 

Legolas. The elf you had loved since the first time you saw him on screen, in the first Lord of the Rings movie, when he walked into Rivendell and curiously looked around. The movies had got his appearance slightly right, but even in his youth, Orlando Bloom had never been as handsome as this elf. You felt your heart beat faster.

The poison made you unable to move your lips and tongue, and your speech came out unintelligible. “I ah ooh…”

“Did the spider sting you?” Another elf came into view; this one had dark hair. 

“How unfortunate,” said Legolas. “And your hip is swelling up. I hope the fall has not broken it.”

“So, what do we do? The rest of the company is already far ahead.”

“We have to go to the camp.” He turned back to you. “Don’t worry. We are going to treat the sting wound and clean out any remaining poison. When your speech returns, you can tell us where you live, and we will help you return there.”

You blinked your eyes and made another noise, hoping it sounded grateful. These elves had saved your life.

Legolas picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you in his arms along a nearly invisible path, closely followed by his friend. You felt your face heat up, starstruck to be this close to your idol, and you were almost grateful the poison made you unable to speak – for you suspected whatever you said right now, would be incredibly stupid. 

After a long walk, you came to a glade with a fireplace in its center, surrounded by a couple of tents in the same green color as the elves' clothes. Legolas carried you into one, and placed you on a blanket. He took off your cloak and folded it into a thick roll, placing it under your head as a pillow.

Then he called to his friend outside: “Can you go after the others, explaining my absence, and ask Niphredil to come back here? Meanwhile, I will do what I can, but I am no healer.”

The elf agreed, and was gone. 

“I have to cut this off, to find where you were stung. The sooner I can wash off the poison, the sooner you will get your mobility back.” Legolas looked apologetic as he ruined your outer garment, but you did not mind. The elvish family who found you all those months ago had given you clothes more suitable for this world, and you were sure they would understand. They were kind people, and you hoped they were not too worried that you had not returned home yet.

In only your undershirt you felt a bit embarrassed, and it seemed Legolas was not entirely comfortable either when he found where the wound was. He folded the hem up and exposed your stomach. Looking down, you saw the ugly mark from the spider’s stinger and felt nauseous; it was round and even, and as large as a coin. A black, oily mess covered the area, mingling with your blood, which seeped out in a sluggish trickle.

“The poison holds the bleeding back, but if I leave it there it will keep leaking into you and prolong your immobility, and possibly do some lasting damage to your nerves as well. I have to get it off, and then quickly bandage the wound. It should be painless, but with the poison gone, your sensations will slowly return. I hope the healer will have come by then; she knows better what to do about the pain.”

He soaked a cloth in something herbal-smelling, and washed the area carefully. As soon as the black filth was gone, fresh, crimson blood welled out of the hole. Legolas was ready with a wad of linen and pressed it firmly against the stinger mark, winding a long bandage around your waist to keep it in place.

Next, he checked on your hip. As he gently prodded the swelling, you felt a numb ache. 

“Ahh…”

“Does it hurt?” he looked worriedly at you.

“Little,” you managed to get out.

“I’m glad your speech is returning. I had better check this before your senses return entirely; it will probably be less painful if I do it now. May I?”

“Yeshh,” you slurred.

“I, uh, have to roll down your hose a bit.” He blushed.

“Yeshh,” you assured him. Of course he could not know you were from a world where showing one’s leg was not a big deal, especially not for medical reasons. 

Legolas fumbled a while with your hose strings; apparently he was not used to the kind of knot you had tied them with. 

Hose were interesting garments, worn by both men and women around here. They resembled a pair of very long socks, though not as elastic; reaching from the toe all the way to the crotch. Unlike pants, they were not sewn together, and tied to an underbelt to stop them from sliding down. Underneath the hose, you wore linen underwear, looking a bit like large, baggy boxer shorts – these too unisex.

Legolas had finally loosened your hose, and uncovered the leg which had hit the ground first. Your hip and upper part of the thigh had gone dark and looked twice as thick as normal. He felt along the bone, and the ache returned, a bit stronger now. You grunted.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“‘S alright.”

“It could be broken, but it’s not easy to feel.” He sighed.

As he started to roll the hose back up, you stopped him. “No. Leave… Swell. Hurt.” The pain was steadily growing worse now, a sharp throbbing with each heartbeat.

“Of course.” He covered you with a blanket instead. “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts,” you said. 

“Niphredil should be back soon. She can give you something to drink. It tastes horrible, but it will take away some of the pain.”

You nodded. Your sensations had returned to your arms and hands now, and you experimentally wiggled your fingers.

“What were you doing alone in the forest?” He took on a somewhat stern tone, and you remembered the Elvenking did not take lightly to strangers roaming Mirkwood. Legolas probably helped his father guard the borders.

“I was gathering berries, but strayed too far from the others, and lost my way… I called back to them, but then the spider came.” You looked at him apologetically.

“Humans are not allowed in this land.” He frowned.

“I know, but… They took me in. A family of elves.” You described how you had been sent here by magic, but on purpose kept most of the details out. It was too hard to explain how different your world was; it was easier to make it sound like you were from another part of this world.

Legolas looked a bit skeptical, but to your relief he did not question you further.

Not long afterwards the rest of the elf company returned, and their healer took over your care. Like Legolas had predicted, she gave you a bitter draught for the pain, but it actually did help a little and also made you drowsy. Soon you were fast asleep.

♡ ♡ ♡

In the morning, the healer returned to check on you. When she removed the bandage from your stomach, she drew in a sharp, surprised breath. “It’s almost healed!” 

You looked down, and your eyes popped open. She was right. The hole was nearly gone, and had scabbed nicely. It still hurt, but much less. Uncovering your thigh, you saw that the swelling was down, and it was less dark in color, but when you tried to move your leg a searing pain shot up.

“Keep it still. The hip bone is broken,” said Niphredil. “But it still surprises me how much better it looks. If you were an elf, it would have been expected, but for a human to heal this fast… I have never seen that before.” 

Legolas came inside the tent, and heard the last part. He too examined your wounds, looking very puzzled. “Are you an elf?” he asked. “You don’t entirely look like one, but with a stamina like this, you must be.”

“Maybe the magical box did it?” you pondered. You actually had noticed some differences in yourself the past year. You were physically stronger and had more energy than before, and slept a lot less – you had accounted it to your wholesome lifestyle with lots of fresh air, healthy food and exercise – but what if your transport here had changed your body somehow? It was no less strange than you coming here in the first place.

Legolas seemed intrigued that someone could change from a human into an apparently immortal person, and resumed his questioning about your arrival here. This time, you told him more than before – the truth about where you came from. 

“So this is why you speak with an accent. If you had been from Gondor like you said at first, you would have learned Sindarin at an early age.” 

“Sorry.” The accent embarrassed you, and there were still many Sindarin words you did not know.

“Don’t be. I like your accent.” He smiled, and you felt your cheeks heat pleasantly.

Strangely, your being sent through time and space did not surprise Legolas as much as you had thought, and instead he seemed mostly curious about you and your world. But then, this was Middle-earth. Here were fire-breathing dragons and rings of power, giants who turned into stone in sunshine, talking spiders and cursed swords; here they used to have trees and lamps instead of a sun and moon, and one of the stars was a guy in a boat sailing across the sky. Magic was normal here. 

All through the day and well into the night you talked, telling Legolas all he wanted to know about the future. You only hid one thing from him: that Middle-earth and all its characters were fictive – including him. That was just too weird. I mean, how do you tell someone they are the figment of a 20th century author’s imagination?

Besides, you were beginning to suspect this was not made up. Everything felt real, and looked real. What if Tolkien too had been transported to Middle-earth, and only wrote what he had seen? It was a curious thought, and you wanted to ponder over it more before you said or did anything stupid.

♡ ♡ ♡

The following day, the elves had planned to return to the palace, and to your delight Legolas asked if you wanted to come; both because he wished to question you more, and so the healer could make sure your leg healed properly. If you agreed, he would send a messenger to the elf family where you lived and explain the situation.

“I would love to see the palace,” you said.

“Good, that’s settled then. I should make it up to you for breaking your hip.”

“Don’t say that!” you objected. “You saved my life. Had you not come, I would have become spider food.” The thought made you shudder.

“I should have cut you down more carefully. One of us ought to have stood below, catching you.”

“I’m just grateful to be alive. Think no more of it,” you assured him.

Legolas lent you one of his tunics instead of the garment he had been obliged to cut when examining you, and when you had put it on, your nostrils filled with his pleasant smell. 

The elves had made a pair of crutches for you, and though your hip still hurt, you found it worked fairly well to limp along with them. Legolas adjusted his pace and walked slowly beside you, telling you about the places you went past. Despite the increasing darkness, there was some beauty left in Mirkwood.

You listened, and tried not to gaze at his attractive face too much. Before, you had loved your imagined version of him from the movies and books, but here he was real – and greatly surpassing your imagination! His kindness towards you had only made you like him more.

♡ ♡ ♡

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[aragon-irl]

OK BUT A MODERN FASHION GIRLY IN MIDDLE EARTH

Just imagen you packing for a trip or smt with all ur makeup, clothes and accessories then you all of a sudden when u just closed the bag u end up falling down in the middle of the road in front of either Thorin's company or the fellowship. They end up taking you with them cus somehow everyone is a gentleman and when its time to either celebrate or eat somewhere nice (Rivendell or Rohan for example) you wip out you makeup bag and the nicest/most flattering clothing pice you can find. THE WAY THEIR JAWS DROP WHEN THEY SEE YOU WHEN YOU "TRY" TO LOOK GOOD- BEAUTIFUL, GORGEOUS, WONDERFUL,AMAZING, STUNNING!!!!

EVERYONE WONDERS AND YOU END UP TELLING THEM EVERYTHING FROM WHERE TO APPLY CONCEALER, BEST BLUSH PLACEMENT, HOW COLOR THEORY ALSO APPLY DO DRESSING YOURSELF, WHAT LOOKS BEST ON WHAT BODY TYPE AND ALL THE DIFFIRENT AESTHETICS :D

[lamemaster]

A Part of Mine (Maedhros x Modern Reader)

Pairing: Maedhros x reader

Genre: pining and lots of pining

Summary: I'm waiting," you said firmly, your voice carrying a sense of unwavering conviction. "I know there's someone out there, someone extraordinary. I won't settle for anything less. I believe in true love, and I won't give my heart away to just anyone."

AN: Posting this to reduce the anxiety I feel before my shift.

As Maedhros stood upon the towering hills of Himring, his gaze fixed upon the distant horizon, his heart was heavy with longing. He could feel a connection, a yearning that transcended time and space. Visions would occasionally visit him, fleeting glimpses of another world, another time, where he sensed the presence of someone he had never met, yet felt intimately connected to.

In these visions, he saw you, a soul dwelling in a realm unknown to him. Your presence shone like a beacon, pulling at the strings of his heart. Though he had never laid eyes on you in the physical realm, your essence captivated him. The visions revealed moments of shared laughter, whispered conversations, and stolen glances that stirred his soul.

But alas, you were separated by worlds and ages. Maedhros lived in the turbulent era of the First Age, burdened by the weight of his responsibilities and the pain of his past. And you existed in a different time, a distant reality.

In the quiet solitude of his chambers, Maedhros would often close his eyes, seeking solace in the visions that connected him to you. He would envision moments where you reached out your hand, yearning for him, just as he yearned for you. His heart would ache with the knowledge that you were bound by circumstances he couldn't comprehend, unable to bridge the divide between their worlds.

Maedhros found himself drawn deeper into the visions that connected him to you, his soulmate from another world. In one such vision, he stood on the outskirts of a lively tavern, hidden in the shadows as he observed your interactions with your friends. Laughter filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the muffled sound of music.

You sat at a table with your closest friend, nursing a drink in your hand. The alcohol had taken its toll, and you spoke with an uncharacteristic candidness. Your voice carried a mix of longing and frustration as you confided in your friend, unaware of Maedhros' presence in the ethereal realm of your visions.

"I don't understand," you slurred, your words slinking out with a hint of sadness. "Why can't I find someone who truly understands me? Someone who makes me feel alive, even in the chaos of this modern world?"

Your friend leaned in, concern etched across their face. "Maybe you're waiting for something, someone out of the ordinary. A connection that defies explanation."

You shook your head, your gaze distant yet focused. "I can't explain it, but I can feel it. It's like there's someone out there, someone who exists beyond the boundaries of time and place. And until I find them, I'll remain unmarried, waiting for a love that may never come."

Maedhros' heart tightened with a mixture of longing and hope. Could it be that you, too, felt the pull of destiny, the unspoken yearning for a love that transcended the limits of your world? In that moment, he understood the significance of their connection, realizing that you were not bound solely by the visions, but also by an innate sense of waiting and seeking.

As the vision continued to unfold, Maedhros watched with growing unease as your friends surrounded you, their voices filled with excitement and encouragement. They urged you to give the unknown man a chance, to explore the possibilities of a romantic connection in your world.

His brows furrowed, and a tinge of annoyance settled within him. How could they not see that your heart already belonged to him, even if you were unaware of his existence? Maedhros clenched his fists, his jealousy flaring once more as their words washed over you.

But then, something unexpected happened. You shook your head, a determined expression crossing your face. The light of defiance sparked in your eyes as you voiced your disagreement. The words that escaped your lips resonated deeply within Maedhros, easing the tension in his heart.

"I'm waiting," you said firmly, your voice carrying a sense of unwavering conviction. "I know there's someone out there, someone extraordinary. I won't settle for anything less. I believe in true love, and I won't give my heart away to just anyone."

Maedhros felt a rush of relief flood through him, his earlier annoyance dissipating like mist under the sun's warmth. Your unwavering loyalty and your refusal to settle for less touched his soul, reaffirming the strength of your connection. He saw in you the same devotion and yearning that burned within his own heart.

With newfound hope, Maedhros recognized that you were steadfast in your belief in soulmates, just as he was. Your refusal to succumb to societal pressures and pursue a relationship for the sake of it ignited a flicker of admiration within him. It was a testament to the depth of your character and the sincerity of your feelings.

As the vision faded away, leaving Maedhros alone in his chambers, he clung to the memory of your determined expression, finding solace in the knowledge that you were willing to wait for him. With renewed determination, he vowed to make his way to your world, to find you and prove that the love you sought was waiting for you in his arms.

In the depths of his visions, Maedhros found himself observing a scene where you sat with your mother, going through a stack of potential matches for a date. Your mother eagerly presented each profile, her voice filled with anticipation as she described the qualities and accomplishments of each suitor.

As you listened attentively, Maedhros couldn't help but interject his thoughts, even though he knew his words would go unheard by those around you. He watched as your mother held up a photo of a well-groomed man with a charming smile, proclaiming his success in business.

"He lacks depth," Maedhros murmured, his voice tinged with a touch of disappointment. "There is more to love than mere success."

Your mother continued, unfazed by the invisible presence beside you, showcasing another profile of a gentleman known for his athletic prowess and adventurous spirit.

"He seems adventurous, but does he truly understand your soul?" Maedhros questioned, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and longing.

The vision carried on, each suitor presented and dismissed, one after another. Maedhros found himself growing more restless with each passing moment, as if the wrong match could never truly fulfill the void in your heart. He yearned for you to find the love he knew only he could provide.

Finally, after a lengthy presentation, your mother paused, expecting your enthusiastic approval for at least one of the candidates. However, to her surprise, you looked up with a gentle smile and shook your head.

"Mother, I appreciate your efforts, but none of them resonate with me," you said, your voice filled with determination. "I believe that love is something deeper, something that cannot be found within these profiles. I won't settle for less than what my heart truly desires."

Though your words were directed at your mother, Maedhros felt his heart swell with hope and admiration. He knew that you were refusing these matches because, deep down, you yearned for a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

Maedhros found himself engulfed in another haunting vision, this time witnessing a scene filled with chaos and despair. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you, his soulmate from another world, caught in the midst of a horrific car accident.

The screeching of tires, the shattering of glass, and the cries of panic surrounded the scene. Maedhros stood frozen, his eyes fixed on you, trapped within the twisted metal wreckage of a car. His chest tightened with anguish, his mind racing with fear and helplessness.

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to intervene, to somehow reach out and shield you from harm. But he was painfully aware that this was a vision, a glimpse into a reality he could not directly alter or control.

Tears welled up in Maedhros' eyes as he watched the emergency responders arrive, their urgency and expertise evident as they worked tirelessly to free you from the wreckage. The weight of his emotions threatened to consume him as he yearned to be by your side, offering solace and reassurance.

Maedhros clenched his fists, his jaw set with determination. Though separated by worlds and dimensions, his love for you burned fiercely. He whispered words of protection and strength, hoping that somehow, his thoughts and prayers would reach you in that harrowing moment.

As the vision continued, the paramedics carefully extricated you from the car, their expertise evident in every precise movement. Maedhros held his breath, his heart pounding in his ears as they carefully placed you onto a stretcher and rushed you into the ambulance.

His eyes never wavered from you, his gaze filled with a potent mix of fear and love. He yearned to be by your side, to offer comfort and support in your time of need. But all he could do was watch, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was unable to physically be there for you.

The vision slowly faded, leaving Maedhros shaken and overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions. The glimpse into a possible tragedy served as a painful reminder of the fragility of life and the depth of his love for you.

Would your worlds ever converge or was this fate bound to these fleeting visions.

[archiveofthelibrarian]

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What if Glaurung had died at the hands of Fingon and his archers? What if Morgoth messed with powers beyond what he should?

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I kind of tried to mimic Tolkein's way of storytelling here, but I don't know how it went. There may be some unclear or vague parts, so feel free to ask me what I tried to say there.

You can find the masterpost with all relevant links here.

Trigger Warning: Implied abuse, implied torture

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Blood and Shadow

Chapter 2: Angband

You spent the next two hundred years following your awakening in the ritiul chamber of Angbad by learning about the world and your position in it.

You, who were called Naurdael the fire terror by the thralls, the head of the Melkorhini, was no more than a tool in his grand plan.

You were to know it and you were to accept it.

And know it, you did. But accept, you did not.

You trained in every weapon known in the face of Arda, and you crafted many weapons of great power in the great forges of Angband.

You apprenticed under Sauron, crafting many weapons and artifacts that would later bring terror to the hearts of all those who heard it.

Swords that were lighter than feathers yet struck heavier than Grond.

Arrows that traveled quicker than sound and pierced even the sturdiest of armors.

But among all your creations, you treasured one above all.

"Ruinëhatal" you called it in the language of the elves for you hated the way Black Speech grated against your mouth, fire spear.

Into Ruinëhatal you poured your power and your will and turned her into a weapon of unimaginable power.

Yet forgecraft alone could not raise your status in the eyes of your father.

So you kept training.

You trained yourself.

You trained in methods of torture and manipulation.

You learned of the world's history and the power of songs.

And finally, you learned how to sing songs of power in great likeness to your father, Melkor before his decline at the first battle.

But no matter how long you spent in Angband, it never became a home to you.

The halls were cold and the dungeons were cruel. Cries arose from every corner.

You learned to ignore, you learned to block out those cries.

You chose to harden your heart to protect yourself and you hated yourself for it.

But you had to survive.

There were just too many horrors in Angband.

But the worst of them all went unnoticed by the free peoples.

Orcs, as you found out, were horribly broken creatures.

Elves unbegotten they were, taken, twisted, and broken by your father shortly after their awakening.

The orc captains were the worst of them all.

Orc-captains were the worst of them all, taken away from their simple lives near Cuivienen and tortured in ways unimaginable, then broken and twisted into creatures of horrible looks and even more horrible hearts.

None of the 144 unbegotten had managed to get away from the influence of your father before it was too late.

You had 77 of the unbegotten, and unnumbered amounts of the aftercomer under your command as orcs.

Any time you reached out your mind to touch one of your captains to give them an order, you would feel their fear and see their memories.

Father had told you once that the twisted did not remember yet you knew that was untrue.

They remembered.

They remembered every single moment of their torture and they remembered every way their fëar were twisted.

It made your heart ache every time, to hear their screams, to listen to their despair.

You wished to do something, to at least be of use to these creatures whose suffering went unnoticed.

Yet you could do nothing. You had power outside yes, but you were powerless inside the fortress for there were powers way grander than what you had been given.

It was heartbreaking.

All you could do was not torture them any further

So you ignored them as well.

You ignored their screams and you ignored their cries.

You ignored them all, for better or worse, you ignored.

All that was horrible in Angband came together in you father, Melkor, and created the most terrible being in existence.

You hated him with with all your heart.

There were no words in any known language enough to fathom the depths of your hatred for him.

He would give you the cruelest of punishments for the slightest misspeak and yet he would overlook your mistakes in training.

He was so unpredictable.

And yet, why there was this smallest part in you that sought his approval and acknowledgment?

Why was it that every time he acknowledged your progress in training your heart soared?

Why did you feel so accomplished whenever he complimented your crafts?

Was this how a normal relationship between a child and their father should be like?

You tried to remember your actual father from your previous life.

You tried to picture his face and hear his voice but all you could see was the face of Melkor.

Melkor had dominated your mind and memories so much that you did not even remembered your own father.

You didn't remember how he treated you, how or if he loved you...

You didn't remember anything.

So you tried to find the memories of your mother.

You tried to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her embrace but you found none in your mind fortress.

No memories of warmth and love were left within your heart and mind for the years here had taken it all from you.

You wanted to scream and cry and beg Father to have those memories back.

But you did none for you could do none.

All you could do was stare at the black walls of your personal chambers for a long, long time until your elven servants came into your chambers in an unending line, waiting to dress you for battle.

Staring at your wall, feeling empty and void, you signed to your servants who worked in a brisk efficiency they were used to and they started preparing you for your most important test yet.

First, you bathed in the cold waters from the melted ice of the northern icelands, which were enchanted with spells of strength of body and clarity of mind.

Then, you were clothed in robes of black, woven with enchantment of warmth and coolness, for you would need both in battle.

After clothing you, your servants braided your hair in signature war braids of Angband.

Only then did your servants start fastening your black armor, which was forged by Sauron as a gift for his favorite disciple of out of the best metals ever seen.

And at last, you took your crown of black diamond thorns and blazing ruby jewels, which was the gift of your father on the eve of your first battle.

You looked at the mirror and in place of the unremarkable high school student you once were, you saw a weapon of war ready to wreak havoc upon all those who dared to oppose Father.

You were ready.