#mordor though just creeps me out

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Alliance of Shadows (10)

A/N: This one was a doozy. It took me FOREVER to get it to read the way I wanted to. Let me know what you think! The end approaches my lovelies...

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.6 K

Taglist: @annatartastic @oakenshielq @perse-cora @eowyn7023 @passionofthesith @zoya-olenko

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The fragile peace you shared with Adar did not last long. You were up with the dawn, though not before Adar himself. When you woke he was seated at the war table, staring at you, deep in thought. Had you more humility you might have blushed. Instead you stretch, hissing slightly at the pain in your side, but well aware of his eyes on you. Settling on your side, you smile at him lightly. A faint grin lights up his face, though it quickly diminishes as he speaks. 

“Maela has advised me that Elrond anxiously awaits our answer.” His voice is deeper than usual, as if he hasn’t spoken yet today. It sends a shiver down your spine. You sigh and sit up gently. 

An hour passes, with you and Adar discussing your options- to barter for peace or fight your way out. It is true you have the stronger army, but how many lives are you willing to risk in open battle again with the elves? 

You pace gingerly across the space, your thoughts swirling.

"We should offer up Galadriel’s ring," you finally say, turning to face him. "In exchange for safe passage back to Mordor and the Southlands, and the freedom to trade with the race of men. It's a chance for peace."

Adar shakes his head slowly, his dark eyes unwavering as they meet yours. "It is unwise to give up a ring of power so easily," he counters. "It is our greatest bargaining chip. With it, perhaps we don’t need the elves’ permission to thrive. The power of the ring could grant us all we desire."

You sigh, weary, memories of the past weighing heavily. "I have seen what rings of power can do. Celebrimbor... Sauron..." You pause, the darkness of their ambitions casting a shadow over your words. "They consumed themselves in their pursuit of power. Once, I would have jumped at the chance to wield it, but I don’t trust any ring of power, Adar. You’ve seen what these creations can do. I fear it would undo all we’ve worked for."

Adar’s lips press into a thin line, his frustration evident, but something shifts in his expression. Without a word, he reaches into his cloak and retrieves the ring—Galadriel’s ring of power. For a moment, it seems innocuous, just a small band of metal. But the air around it seems to hum with ancient energy.

"Let me show you," he says softly, slipping the ring onto his pinky finger.

In an instant, you feel it—a surge of power rippling through the space. Adar’s form shifts before your eyes. The scars that marr his face and body fade, his pale, weathered skin regaining its warmth, its vitality. His eyes brighten, his features no longer twisted by centuries of pain and battle. He stands tall, as he once had been—an elf of great beauty and strength.

"We could have everything," Adar says, his voice thick with a yearning that pierces through the cold resolve he so often wears. "Whole, together. Like this."

For a moment, the temptation lingers, the promise of something more, something easier. But you step closer to him, your eyes never leaving him. "I do not need you to be an elf, Adar," you say, your voice steady but soft. "I have fallen for the father of the Uruks—the leader they have come to know. The one they look up to for strength and resilience. I don’t want you to give that up for me, or for anyone."

Adar’s gaze falters, doubt creeping into his features. "You... love me?" he asks, incredulous. "As I am? Scarred, broken?"

Without hesitation, you reach for the ring on his hand, your touch gentle but firm. You slide it from his finger, feeling the magic unravel, watching as Adar’s form reverts back to his Uruk self. His scars reappear, the marks of battles fought and endured, but to you, he has never seemed stronger or more beautiful.

"I love you, Adar," you whisper, stepping even closer, your face mere inches from his. "I love the Uruk you are. The one your children look to with hope. The one who’s fought for them, scarred or not."

He stares at you for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. You surge forward, capturing his lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you—bound by something far more powerful than any ring.

The kiss deepens, his hand tracing the line of your jaw, your fingers gripping the fabric of his cloak. The tenderness, the heat of it, is overwhelming, and when you pull away, panting slightly, the fire that burns between you is undeniable. 

You smile gently and pull his forehead to rest on yours. “My Uruk,” you say softly. Tears fall softly from his eyes and yours as you pull him close once more. 

______________________________________________________________

Adar had convinced you that using the ring to heal the wound in your side would not be disastrous. Reluctantly you had agreed and you tried to ignore the smug look on his face when you were able to complete a few sword maneuvers with no pain. 

You had sent Maela to retrieve Elrond, anxiously awaiting the elves' arrival. Adar sits next to you in a chair of his own, his hand lingering near yours, protective. Elrond stands before you, flanked by his companions, his brow furrowed in thought.

You gesture to the empty seats before them and Elrond hesitantly takes a seat. Once they are settled, you stand: tall, proud, and regal. 

“Elrond, herald of High King Gil Galad, you stand here today asking us to retreat—to turn away from the world, to remain hidden as if we are lesser, unworthy of the lands we fought for. You look at us and see only darkness. But let me tell you this—if we desired it, we could have all of Middle-earth under our rule. The mages possess powers that shift the very fabric of reality, that can break the will of even the strongest minds. And the Uruks, the children of Adar, are relentless, born of both fury and resilience. Together, we are more than capable of taking whatever we wish.

“If we marched with the full strength of our combined forces—Uruks, mages, and wildmen alike—there would be no city that could stand against us. No army strong enough to halt our advance. If we wanted the White City, we would take it. If we wanted Lindon, it would be ours. And we would not ask permission.

“Yet here we stand. We come not to conquer, but to negotiate. Because unlike the warmongers of the world, we value our people’s lives. Every Uruk, every mage—we are not here to spill their blood without cause. We are here to preserve them, to protect them. It is not out of weakness that we negotiate but out of wisdom. We contemplate peace, Elrond, not because we lack the power to destroy, but because we understand the cost of endless war."

Your eyes flash as you lean forward slightly, your tone growing darker. "But do not mistake this for complacency. This truce we have is fragile, and it rests on a thread easily severed. We have shown restraint, but should you continue to look down upon us, to question our right to exist, you will see just how swiftly that restraint can vanish. Remember who truly holds the upper hand here. Tread lightly, son of Eärendil, for you deal not with creatures cowering in the shadows, but with those who could claim the daylight itself if they so choose.”

Silence hangs in the air, your final words settling like the weight of a storm about to break.

"You propose we allow you to return to Mordor and the Southlands, to live freely," Elrond begins, his voice calm but skeptical. "But what assurances do we have that your kind will not rise against us again?"

You exchange a glance with Adar. 

"We offer the ring of Galadriel," you say, pulling it from your robes for Elrond to see. "Galadriel’s ring and a promise of peace, in exchange for our freedom. And we ask for the right to live, to trade with the men. We have no interest in more war."

Elrond’s eyes flick to the ring, his hesitation clear. "And what of the darkness that resides in your people?" he asks. "That resides in you, Adar?"

Adar’s jaw clenches, his voice sharp as he replies. "We have already established trade routes with the wildmen who have acknowledged my reign. We seek to live in peace, not to be cut off from the world. We deserve that chance."

Elrond's doubt is palpable. The tension between the two of them crackles like a storm about to break. "You speak as though you are owed anything," Elrond says, his tone cutting.

Before Adar can respond, you place a hand on his arm, calming him. "We have nothing to prove to you, Elrond," you say firmly. "But… perhaps I may be able to offer some assurances.” You turn to your guard standing in the corner, “Maela, bring in the scryer."

Elrond startles at your command. While rumors of your scryers have circled Middle Earth, nothing has ever been proven and no one outside of your mountain has witnessed their magic. 

Moments later, the scryer stands before Elrond, her eyes glowing faintly with magic, holding a large bowl of clear, cool water. "I offer you this display of our abilities as further proof of our willingness to compromise," you say coldly, "Given a specific set of decisions or scenarios, my scryers are able to show the potential outcomes."

Elrond nods, his eyes not leaving the woman standing before him. You can see his curiosity and desire for knowledge bubbling to the surface. It is with no small amount of amusement that you also catch his gaze lingering on your scryers face, studying her features.  

“Show us what the future may hold should the elves allow us to live in peace and make our way in the world. The Uruk’s and mages shall not rise up against the elves should they not provoke us, and the elves shall allow us our home undisturbed.” you order, addressing the scryer. She nods and holds her hands out over the bowl of water in front of her. 

The scryer’s power unfolds before Elrond’s eyes, revealing a vision of a thriving city in Mordor, but it is not a city like any he has seen before in Middle-earth. This city comes to life not during the day but under the veil of night, where the moonlight mingles with the glow of torches and flickering lamps. Uruks, mages, and men walk side by side, their voices blending in laughter and lively conversation. The streets are vibrant, alive with the hum of community, where differences melt away in the warmth of shared existence.

Music floats on the cool evening air, soft melodies carried by strings and drums as fires burn brightly in community pits along the walkways. The smell of roasting meats and fresh bread wafts from the bustling market stalls, where vendors offer fruits, meats, spices, and finely crafted wares. Children dart between the stalls, playing games, while families gather around the fires, sharing stories and meals. Merchants haggle with eager buyers, and artisans display their work—beautiful trinkets, magical artifacts, and weapons, gleaming in the firelight.

You can almost taste the smokiness of the meats and hear the clinking of coins exchanged as the vibrant rhythm of life pulses through the city. It is a place of energy, community, and peace—something unheard of for the children of the dark. The vision lingers, and you can not deny the undeniable brightness and harmony that thrives in this dark land, a future unlike any city ever imagined in Middle-earth. Adar grips your hand in his and when you look back at him, his eyes shine with tears that run down his face. Hope, for the future you have shown him. 

Elrond falters, shaken by what he has seen. A glimpse of gratitude flickers across his face. "I have seen many wonders in my time," he says, his voice low and almost reverent. "But this vision you have granted me—it is a gift beyond measure. To see what could be... It is a triumph of magic, unlike anything I have known."

He opens his mouth to say more, perhaps to offer some gesture of respect or thanks, but before the words can escape, one of his elven companions bursts through the tent flap. The elf’s expression is frantic, eyes wide with urgency as he rushes to Elrond’s side. He leans close, whispering hurriedly in his lord’s ear.

Elrond’s face pales as he listens, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. The calm, composed exterior he had worn just moments ago seems to crack, giving way to something more unsettled. His gaze flickers briefly to Adar and then back to you, though his thoughts are clearly elsewhere.

A tense silence stretches across the room as the conversation continues in hushed, hurried tones. Your ear strains to catch even the faintest hint of the whispered exchange. Adar’s eyes narrow, and you feel the air grow thick with unspoken questions, your mind racing to decipher the meaning behind this sudden change in Elrond’s composure.

The elven warrior finally steps back, his message delivered, but the weight of it lingers in the space between them. Elrond’s face has hardened, shadows of concern etched into his brow. He stands straighter, composed once again but more guarded now.

"Forgive the intrusion," he begins, his voice measured but tense. "In light of your new terms, with the offering of Galadriel’s ring, and your trusting display of magic, I will accept your offer," he says reluctantly. "Your people may go. Though I urge you to move quickly. I cannot speak for the race of men and their approval of your actions. We will not aid you in making your way home, though you have my word that the elves will not impede you." Elrond lowers his head in respect, and you lower yours in return.

The elves' departure is swift, with the exchange of the ring and a promise of a signed document from the High King as they leave.  When at last you are alone with Adar and the small gathering of Uruk and mages around you, Adar turns to you, his eyes searching. "What did the elf whisper to him?"

You smile, the messenger had not even thought to mask his thoughts in your presence. While he was anxiously speaking to Elrond you had snuck into his mind, revealing his every thought. "Galadriel has been found. But she is fading. She needs healing, the high king was unable to heal her alone with his ring of power…"

Adar’s eyes widen in understanding. "He thinks her ring will spare her," he murmurs. “He is willing to risk our betrayal to save her.” 

“Can you fault him?” you ask softly, grazing your hand along his cheek. “If you had the cure for someone you loved lying in front of you, would you not take it?” 

Adar leans his face into your hand, gently kissing your palm, “I cannot fault him. Though it is perhaps an example of the elves folly, it has granted us what we seek.”

You nod, leaning into him. "We did it," you say softly. "You are going home."

“No,” Adar whispers, and you look up at him confused. “We are going home.” He smiles as he tucks your hair behind your ear and places a gentle kiss upon your lips.

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (VII)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Adar prepares his army to march towards Eregion and you start to have your doubts as the guilt creeps in.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This chapter is a bit shorter but I hope it's okay since the last one was so long. 😘 It's mostly about the Reader starting to doubt her plans and schemes as she realises she cares about Adar and the Orcs more than she'd like to admit it. The meeting with Galadriel will be in the next part because this one would be too long if I included it here. I also didn't want to rush things and start with this scene in this part. I really can't wait for the Reader and Galadriel to interact in this btw...

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 4,430

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (VII)

“Your mind seems to be absent.”

Your husband’s voice caused you to stir slightly in his arms. You looked up and met his curious gaze. He was right. Your mind had been absent for days now. You had been reliving your reunion with Sauron – over-analysing every interaction and every word. It was bringing you comfort to know that he was back and that you were assured now that you were truly on the right path to help him with his plans and his schemes.

But you were also anxious about some of his sudden coldness and distance. You hoped that completing his task would grant you the full potential of his love and affection again.

“Mine? Or yours? So fixated on the idea of killing Sauron once again?” You asked Adar, trying to make this conversation about him again. You gave him a soft smile and caressed his scarred cheek with your fingertip.

“You know that I must,” Adar brushed a hair strand out of your face as he looked down at you. You were laying on his chest in the morning as the noises of the outside were reaching your ears – the Orcs were preparing to march again with their army.

“I know…” You sighed. Just like Sauron had ordered, you were trying to convince your husband to march towards Eregion. But you also knew that encouraging him too eagerly would be suspicious. “I am scared of the darkness making its comeback…”

“We are the darkness, though,” Adar chuckled at your choice of words.

“I have not made myself clear enough. Sauron is more than simply darkness. He is true evil,” you explained, a little nervously.

“You have no idea how much,” your husband looked away with a sigh and you hid your face from him as well because you were scared of your eyes betraying you.

In many ways, it was exhausting to deceive him constantly. And it was becoming more and more difficult to lie to him as well. The problem was not to come up with fake stories or excuses. No. The problem was that you were starting to feel guilty.

After leaving Ostirith, Adar was the one who gave you home and kept you safe. And in all of that, he was treating you well. Not just decent – he was truly good to you. As much as a man as rotten as him could.

“I do not need to know…” You whispered softly. “I trust your judgement of him. And as your wife, I shall follow you wherever you go. Even if that is a battlefield that you lead me to,” you added and your eyes met once again.

You could see so much pain in his cold ones when you said those words. Long centuries of suffering in loneliness and now, finally, he had a companion by his side. The adoration towards you was visible in those little, intimate moments.

You wished sometimes that his adoration was enough for you. But you were greedy and he was no half-god like Sauron was.

You walked around the village by Adar’s side and watched the progress of the Orcs putting all of their effort to forge the new weapons and armours before leaving Mordor to march towards Eregion in the upcoming days.

“The preparations are nearly complete, Lord Father,” Glûg informed your husband and then he looked at you as if he was waiting for your permission to keep talking.You nodded at him, softly. “But… we are safe here,” he added. “We have a home. Must we go to war again?” He asked Adar.

You kept walking and glancing at your husband, wondering what he would say to that. You knew he was too fixated on the idea of defeating Sauron completely to give up despite his children’s pleas. But his rotten heart must have been in pain for them – because even yours was starting to feel guilt. Especially when you knew that you were leading them to become Sauron’s slaves. Just like he had intended all those centuries ago.

“You told me Sauron was dead. Let us leave him this way,” Glûg tried to convince your husband and you could see that Adar was thinking intensively about his reply.

“There are some dangers in this world about which it is a father’s burden to know,” Adar answered diplomatically. “And a son’s burden to trust him,” he added and put his hand on Glûg’s arm. “Trust me, my son, when I tell you that we will never truly be safe, until we’ve made certain Sauron is no more.”

You stopped walking just like they did and you looked down as you were playing with the mud by using the tip of your shoe. The very danger they were all so worried about… You were the emissary of it. And they had no idea.

In fact, they respected you. They praised you for being the one who had given them a home. They had forged a small crown for you to wear. They were slowly becoming like your children, too. Well, step-children, surely.

“As you will it, Lord Father,” Glûg nodded his head but he did not sound convinced.

You moved away slightly for Adar to walk past you and continue his walk but you remained by Glûg’s side for a short moment.

“Your Lord Father wants nothing but your safety,” you assured him. “He loves his children more than anything. You have to trust him,” you said. “There are things he cannot say. Like there are things you would not say to your own son either to protect him,” you pointed at his wife holding their baby.

Glûg nodded at you, too. Perhaps he wanted to say something more but his child began to cry, so he hurried to his wife’s side. You, on the other hand, gathered your skirts and followed Adar’s steps.

You reached your hand out to hold his wrist when the scary sound of heavy steps approaching the village reached your ears. You froze while your heart skipped a beat and you turned around as you spotted a huge figure of a hill-troll.

All the Orcs around were staring with their eyes widened and you could not blame them. Hill-trolls were not known to be friends with their kin. And you knew that the troll alone could cause damage around the place, kill some of the Orcs and perhaps even you… if he only wanted to. It would take at least half of this village to defeat him if he decided to attack.

“What is that?” You asked and clinged to Adar’s arm.

“I invited him,” your husband explained to you calmly as he began to approach the entry of the village.

“Without telling me…?” You asked but you let go of his hand. You were too scared to go near that creature. Staying behind with the Orcs seemed like a better idea – and that was saying a lot about how uneasy the hill-troll was making you feel.

The troll was dressed in a net with the skulls of his victims around his waist and he walked inside the village after destroying the wooden entry. Perhaps it was an ugly and obscure construction but it was simply rude to just walk in like that after being invited. He made it clear very quickly that he did not care about any customs.

“Damrod. Hill-troll of the Ered Mithrin,” Adar greeted him in Black Speech. You could finally understand this language after all the lessons your husband had been giving you recently just like you had asked him to.

He walked up to be even closer to his guest but you did the opposite and you took a few steps back, hiding behind one of the Orcs standing nearby. It did not escape your eye that the Orc extended his arm a little as if he was trying to protect his Lady.

“Killer of stone giants,” Adar continued with the praises. “Eater of dragon bones. Welcome,” he stood in front of the hill-troll and for a brief moment you realised that you were scared for him in the simplest and most genuine way.

And yes, of course, if he was killed now, you would be left without protection in front of a troll, although some of the Orcs would surely try to defend you. But other than that, you were also worried because of a different reason – just like every wife would be if her husband stood eye to eye with a hill-troll. You held your breath and squeezed the hilt of your sword even though you still could not fight with it well.

The hill-troll answered by throwing something on the ground. It was a head that rolled towards your husband’s feet. A head of an Orc – one of Adar’s children. You could sense the shift in the atmosphere.

You realised how truly desperate he was to get rid of Sauron but you also sensed amongst the Orcs around you that they trusted him a little less at this very moment. There was betrayal and disappointment at the sight of their brother’s head being rolled as their Lord Father watched. And even though it should make you happy because it would serve Sauron’s plan well in the future… you felt worried instead.

“I gather you received our message,” Adar said as he kept staring at the Orc’s head.

“Where… is… Sauron?” The troll asked and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

You had no idea that your lover had so many enemies. The Elves being against him was something obvious, of course. But to know that even the filthiest and darkest creatures did not like the idea of his comeback was simply concerning.

First of all, it meant that his road to rule the whole Middle-earth would be long and difficult – certainly much more complicated than he had been explaining it to you. Second of all… What if they were all right and it was you who were wrong? If so many creatures of all kinds were scared of your lover becoming their ruler, it could mean that he was more evil and deadly than you knew.

No, you shook that off. It could not be it. They were simply not ready. They were scared of the unknown. Of his greatness, his power and the healing that he would bring. And you would be there, alongside him. You would be his Queen.

You watched Adar welcoming the hill-troll inside the village and instructing others that Damrod would march alongside you to Eregion, which was not taken lightly by anyone. You were trying not to comment because you did not want to argue with your husband in public but you could not wait for the moment when you would be in Sauron’s arms again. Far away from all those filthy creatures – they would become nothing but a distant memory of the sacrifice you had gone through for your lover. Sauron would never require you to be so close to them. They’d be soldiers in his army that you would command from afar.

“I did not want to worry you even further. You seem to be so tense these days,” Adar’s words brought you back to reality as you felt his hands on your shoulders while he stood behind you. “I am sorry for keeping that from you.”

“He is dangerous to your children,” you pointed out.

“Not as much as Sauron,” Adar explained and squeezed your arms. “Be at ease, you are the Dark Lady of Mordor. This is your realm and he is your guest,” Adar reminded you in the Quenya language.

“We are leaving our realm soon and out there we are intruders and invaders,” you answered in the same speech as you turned your head around to look into his eyes. His face was so close that your noses brushed slightly and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

“Let us be,” Adar whispered. “They will never accept us, so let them fear us.”

You could not sleep on the night before marching out of the village, which had been your home for the past few weeks now. The outside was quiet since everyone was preparing for the next day and resting. You sighed and sat up carefully, trying not to wake Adar up while doing so. You grabbed a shawl laying nearby and you put it on your shoulders before walking out of the house.

You could hear the snoring of the Orcs sleeping inside the houses but the hill-troll was definitely the loudest. You took a deep breath in and walked further to the entry of the village where the horses were. For a moment, you wanted to simply hop on one of them and run away from there as far as you could. To run away from your life, the schemes and even Sauron himself.

But you could not. You had already sacrificed so much for him and his plans. You could not stop now. And, when you looked back at the house where Adar was, you also did not want to run away… Not truly. For some reason, your new life was oddly giving you a sense of power and control. When you first had been told you would marry Adar, you were angry that you would become a property of such a man. But you didn’t feel like a property now. He truly treated you like his equal and his companion. It felt… good. Like nothing you had ever experienced before.

So, instead of mounting a horse and running away, you simply walked out of the village and approached the destroyed trees that had been a beautiful forest once – before your very hand had doomed it to die. You took a small walk under the moonlight, which was barely shining through the dark clouds after Mount Doom’s eruption.

And as you walked and walked, you were slowly gaining more and more courage to keep going with your plans. You just couldn’t understand how your heart was able for some compassion and affection even towards Adar – he was the man who had killed your beloved all those centuries ago. Surely, he had his reasons but he had taken your lover from you. He had cursed your existence into a lonely one; filled with yearning and hiding. You could have been the Queen of Middle-earth already by Sauron’s side if he had not been defeated back then. Humiliated, too.

And yet – if someone asked you if you hated Lord Father of the Orcs… You could not say that you did.

After an hour or two, you went back to the village and spotted your husband walking around nervously. At the sight of you, he furrowed his brows and approached you quickly.

“Where were you?” He asked, worryingly.

“I needed a walk to gather my thoughts before tomorrow,” you explained and faked a gentle smile as you put your hands flat on his chest. “Have you been worried about me abandoning you?” You teased but Adar did not smile at that. His eyes filled with sadness once more and you sighed, raising your hands to cup his face. “If I abandoned you, would you look for me?”

“Right after defeating Sauron,” your husband answered. “Killing him is my biggest priority now.”

“Then it is mine as well,” you smiled once more and caressed his cheeks before walking away to go back inside the house.

Adar’s determination planted a new seed of doubt inside of your heart. What if, in the end of this all, it would be Sauron who would be defeated? Everyone seemed to be against him and the only person he had by his side was himself.

And you, of course.

You had been marching with Adar’s army before but it had been a short distance from Ostirith to the villages nearby. It was the very first time you were about to travel so far away alongside dangerous warriors who were about to conquer more and more lands. Although the conquest was not your goal – it was complete destruction. That was the way the Orcs were. It did not matter that your plan was to attack Eregion itself – everything on your way simply had to be destroyed.

Your motivation to keep going was the fact that you were getting closer and closer to your lover, but it was not only that. You would lie if you said that you didn’t enjoy being in charge of the army like that. Of course, technically, you were only a spouse to the leader of it. But in reality, the Orcs would do whatever you told them. So far, it was mostly because of the fact Adar trusted you but you knew that the other factors also mattered for his children. You had been the one to give them home and you were still an Elf even though your light was barely there. In a way, you were intimidating them because you were a beautiful creature amongst the filthy monsters.

Some of the Orcs had gathered their courage to ask you for some of your hair. You had found their question adorable in a way. You had no idea that the Elven hair was precious to their kin as well.

You didn’t hesitate while pulling some of the hairs out of your head to hand it out to the Orcs. And it brought you some twisted satisfaction to see them nearly worshipping their extraordinary souvenirs. They treated them like lucky charms of some sort.

You had even less of the free time now but Adar was still trying to teach you how to wield the sword you had been given. With each day you were getting better and better using it. And one day you even slightly defeated him as he fell to the ground and you had the tip of your sword pointed at his face, standing above him with a challenging face. Some of the Orcs were watching you train and now they were looking at each other, surprised.

“And? How do you find me now?” You raised an eyebrow at your husband.

“Terrific,” he smirked. “You are enjoying this, are you not?”

“How do you know?” You chuckled.

“You enjoyed it when I made the human king bow at your feet. I could feel it,” Adar answered and you pursed your lips. He had absolutely no idea.

You took a step back and retreated your sword. Your husband laughed at that softly and stood up as he grabbed his sword, too.

“You did it on purpose. I defeated you because you let me,” you pointed out, bitterly. “I do not enjoy being treated like a child.”

“That was not my intention. I simply wanted to motivate you. Constant failures have been discouraging you lately,” he explained.

“So, you thought that deceiving me with the fake victory would help me? A lie was supposed to raise my self-esteem?” You rolled your eyes.

Oh, how cruel it was to accuse him of deception and lies. But he was a cruel man, therefore he deserved it, didn’t he? Every time you were feeling bad for him, you were trying to remember that he had killed your lover and how he had been treating all the humans on his way.

You tried to remember that if it was a scheme for something he cared about, he would do the same to you. If not worse.

“Why do you see lies and deception everywhere?” Adar asked. “You see them where there is no need and I bet that where they truly reside, you turn a blind eye,” he looked at you intensely and you froze at his words. “I do not mean to offend you. It was a warning based on my observations of how people often are careless with where they put their suspicions and where they put their trust,,” he quickly added and approached you to lift your chin up with his thumb but you refused to look into his eyes. “I did not let you win to make fun of you or because I see you as weak. I wanted to share my victory with you.”

“The victory was an illusion, though,” you mumbled.

“The victory itself perhaps,” Adar nodded, “but not the sweet taste of it, am I right?” He smirked and you finally glanced at him, a little surprised.

“Why are you so willing to share your power with me?” You asked, genuinely wondering about it. “You are granting me such a gift… Why?”

“Because it is a burden to carry it all on my own. You think of it as sharing. As a gift. But it is not. In fact, I am cursing you,” Adar smiled sadly and pinched your cheek.

“If I must be cursed, gods, let me be cursed with power,” you whispered.

“Why do you want it so much?” Your husband asked. “I carry it in order to protect my children. And you?”

“I want to carry it in order to protect myself,” you answered.

But it was not true. Not fully. You also wanted power and influence for less noble and understandable reasons. For your own pride and your own ego. For all the years you had spent growing up in Ostirith; far away from all the beautiful Elven cities. Forever feeling worse, even when you had finally gone to Mithlond or Eregion to study. You simply could not… fit in. There had been something wrong with you from the day you had been born. You had never carried the light of Valinor in the same way as others. It had been this way a long time before you had met Sauron. In fact, you were sure, that was the very reason why Sauron had chosen you out of all the Elven maidens he could have seduced and lured into his bed.

“The sword you are carrying is more than a piece of iron,” Adar helped you to raise it again. “You must allow it to see you through… You must allow it to see your determination and do not be afraid to show it the depth of your darkness. It is not just a sword, it is a dark magic item. It might appear to you as lighter and easier to wield once you forge a bond with it,” he pointed out and you nodded at him. You knew he was right but you were scared of unleashing all of yourself and pouring it into that sword. 

It was too early for your husband to see how truly corrupted you were.

After leaving Mordor’s lands, you had to continue your march mostly at night because of the sunlight. Most of the time you were with Adar but when he was needed elsewhere, you were ending up surrounded by the Orcs and after each time like that, you realised all of the sudden that you didn’t feel uneasy like this anymore.

Whenever you were asleep with the Orcs nearby and Adar being far away, you weren’t anxious anymore about them attacking you in your sleep. Even when you treated some of them harshly sometimes because of their obscene behaviour, they mostly just looked the other way to avoid your gaze. They didn’t love you but they accepted you. And that had to be enough for now. It surely helped with surviving all of this.

You wondered what Sauron was doing and was he truly thinking of you every day – as much as you were of him? Was he feeling bad for you and the sacrifice you had to be making for him? Was he worried about the Orcs hurting you or Adar finding out the truth?

“We have marched into Elvish lands,” your husband whispered to you as you walked through the forest at night. “Be careful now, look around and inform me if you see anything suspicious.”

You nodded at him and adjusted the sword attached to your hip. You wondered what the Elves would do now if they caught you.

You walked and walked for more time, surrounded by the sounds of the Orcs’ drums and war chants. The hill-troll was walking ahead of you and destroying the trees on the way to clear the path for the army. You were bringing fear and destruction to the lands outside Mordor and some part of you truly enjoyed it but you wished it was Sauron by your side already, on your way to conquer the whole Middle-earth.

“Lord Father!” One of the Orcs ran up to you. He was from a completely different part of the formation but he looked quite scared as he brought the news. “There is an Elven woman and she is shooting us with her bow and arrows!” He announced and his revelation was no surprise to you since the Elvish lands had always been patrolled and the Elves were much more graceful warriors than the Orcs, so they often could slay a few alone despite having less physical strength.

In that moment, you began hearing the screams of pain from far away and the fire burning down the road where the Elven woman had to be slaying the Orcs. You exchanged a meaningful look with your husband.

“I will be right back,” he patted your arm and followed the Orc to help his children.

And, once again, you found yourself worrying even though now he would face an Elf and not a hill-troll. And now he had a whole army with him, ready to defend him and to die for him.

Also, now, if he died, you would just lead the army to Eregion and hand it over to Sauron just like the plan was. So, why were you so concerned? You had a new excuse now – perhaps your deception towards your husband was a product of such mastery that you were deceiving even your own self that you cared about him. 

Yes, that was a good excuse.

But when you finally saw Adar coming back to you with a serious expression on his face, the relief you felt was the most genuine.

“What is it?” You asked him with a smile that showed up on your face on its own at the sight of him being back and unharmed.

“That Elven woman… We have captured her. She is our prisoner now,” Adar said and you furrowed your brows, wondering why he had decided to take such measures instead of simply killing her. “It is Lady Galadriel.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 2.0 — Hi, it's me again! 👋🏻 I have already decided I am going to write two alternative versions of the last chapter of this story (do not worry, there will be a few more before that happens) but I am genuinely curious anyway which one of the men you would want the Reader to choose in the end... 🤔 I am asking that now because in the next chapter you might change your mind because of the plot twist... (that probably will not be a plot twist to many readers... but still ...😂).

MASTERLIST

[tamurilofrivendell]

With My Life | Elrond x Reader

one shot using this prompt

read on ao3

pairing: Elrond x Reader

summary: you think Elrond doesn’t trust you to fight despite your skill but it turns out the real reason he is loath to let you is a little different. 

You had lived in Rivendell for a fairly long time by this point, coming here seeking safety and solace. You had been travelling alone for a long time, facing many hardships and even dangers on the road, but Imladris had been good to you. The Lord of Rivendell had taken you in without a question, as he always did with weary travellers, those seeking a safe place to rest their heads. You had not planned to stay quite as long as you actually had but the valley had become something of a home to you, just as the Lord of it had become someone you were proud to call a friend.

However, it was not all a wonderful dream. Darkness had been creeping back into the world and, as war approached and skirmishes broke out all over, you were forced to pick up your trusty sword once more, going out on border patrols with the others. You wouldn’t feel right sitting pretty in Rivendell while everybody else risked themselves defending this refuge from the forces of Mordor. You were happy to help and happy to have an excuse to leave Rivendell for a time, something you had grown to enjoy over your time here. You had always had a bit of a habit of leaving the safety of the Halls and crossing the river or exploring the surrounding wilderness. You had always had a wanderers heart and exploring had simply become a part of you after all these years.

Trouble was, with the world becoming more dangerous, you found yourself getting into more scrapes and problems than before. You were almost eaten by a couple of trolls. A warg stalked your scent and chased you all the way to the river. A stray band of orcs waylaid you in the woods, which you got away from with minor injuries - this one got you in the most trouble with Elrond, though he didn’t say a word. The way he looked at you while he tended to your wounds was enough.

As time passed and things continued to only become more and more dangerous, you found yourself in a situation you had not been in before.

Elrond started to say no to you.

It began with a wave of his hand, telling you there were enough numbers in a partcular patrol to deal with the issue they were facing. It continued with an angry look the likes of which he hadn’t given you before when you tried to press the situation and force your way back into the midst of things. Elrond only continued to outright deny you, eventually going so far as to completely remove your weapon from your possession as you slept.

When you woke and realised it was missing, you were furious, and you had finally had enough. What had changed between the two of you, you did not know, but you had reached your limit. Try as you might, you could not seem to stop disappointing him and you were desperate to know what you had done to upset him, to change the way he viewed and treated you.

“Don’t you trust me?” You cried out in frustration, bursting into his room as he was readying to leave with his patrol to hunt yet another band of orcs that had dared to come too close to the border for comfort.

Elrond turned to look at you, brows furrowed with confusion as he wondered how you could even ask such a question. How you could even think such a thing. He realised that things had not been the same as they had been but he could no longer allow you to waltz around in the wild beyond Rivendell, where anything could happen to you, where things had already happened. You were reckless with yourself and it frightened him, especially that last time when the orcs had gotten too close and hurt you - you were seriously lucky that it was not more serious and he had spent all that night unable to rest due to his anxiety over what might happen the next time.

The next time, you may not be so lucky.

How had he allowed these thoughts to enter your mind? How had he not seen it? He had been trying to keep you safe and in doing so he realised that he had pushed you away and made you feel like he did not value you. “I trust you with my life.” He said emphatically, covering the distance between you both in two long strides. Elrond reached out to take hold of your hands gently in his own, looking you directly in the eyes with a tenderness he had been hiding from you for the past few months. “I’m not so sure I trust you with yours.”

You blinked back at him as you allowed his words to sink in. He was quiet, patient, as your mind worked over the meaning behind what he had said. His thumbs brushed softly across the skin of your hands, sending a light shiver through you. Your gaze softened slightly as you looked back at him and he smiled. His smile began to fade away when you pulled your hands from his but returned when your arms moved to circle his neck, pulling him into a hug. His own arms moved around your waist as he returned the gesture and the two of you stayed that way for a few moments, content in this moment to at least be on the same page once more.

[novelmonger]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 of the Tolkien 20 questions.

If you could be the Middle Earth race you would like to be, which would it be?

There's always been something about Numenor that I've really liked - in its glory days, not its decline. And yes, I consider that a different race than what I already am, because they were much more long-lived and robust than we are today.

2. If you were the Middle Earth race that your personality most matches, which would it be?

Hobbit. I like to stay at home, stick to my routines, and eat good food. No adventures, please. Makes you late for dinner.

3. When did you first come into contact with Tolkien's work? Who or what introduced you?

My dad is entirely to blame XD One time when I was six and my brother was eight, we'd just been on a long trip and were severely jetlagged to the point that we were getting up at 3 a.m. and such. So my dad, in a desperate attempt to bore us and get us to fall asleep, started reading The Hobbit to us. I'm sure he thought the language would be so far above our heads we wouldn't understand it, but his plan backfired, and we kept begging for him to read more, poor guy.

(Secretly, it did go way over my head, but I still liked it - and would rather listen to a book being read to me than lying in bed in the darkness. I walked away with no real understanding of what had happened - all I remembered were a bunch of dwarves that I imagined like the ones in Snow White, a spooky forest with black squirrels, and the impression that Hobbits were little anthropomorphic hedgehog things with waistcoats.)

Fast-forward a few years, and in 2001 my dad decided we were old enough for him to try reading LotR to us. I'm not sure if the impetus for that was that he'd heard they were making movies of it and he wanted us to read the book first, but the timing was impeccable. At the age of 10, I was much more able to grasp the language and the story (though I labored under the mistaken impression that Merry was a girl for an embarrassingly long time), and I liked it a lot.

But then we went to see the movie...and in those three hours, my life completely and irrevocably changed. I remember staggering out of the theatre, dazzled by the normal, everyday December sunlight, and wondering how everybody could just...carry on with their lives when such ineffable beauty existed in the world. As soon as we got home, I grabbed the copy of TTT we were reading together and ran off to my room to read it myself, because I could read so much faster. My life has never been the same since ^_^

4. What passage in Tolkien's books or in any of the films/shows/media speaks to you the most?

There are so many great passages, but the one that has always stood out clear and beautiful, like the star peeking out from the clouds over Mordor, is this passage from TTT:

Sam looked at him. The early daylight was only just creeping down into the shadows under the trees, but he saw his master's face very clearly, and his hands, too, lying at rest on the ground beside him. He was reminded suddenly of Frodo as he had lain, asleep in the house of Elrond, after his deadly wound. Then as he had kept watch Sam had noticed that at times a light seemed to be shining faintly within; but now the light was even clearer and stronger. Frodo's face was peaceful, the marks of fear and care had left it; but it looked old, old and beautiful, as if the chiselling of the shaping years was now revealed in many fine lines that had before been hidden, though the identity of the face had not changed. Not that Sam Gamgee put it that way to himself. He shook his head, as if finding words useless, and murmured: 'I love him. He's like that, and sometimes it shines through, somehow. But I love him, whether or no.'

5. Ruthlessly rank the main projects of the Tolkien universe (the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Rings of Power, the Silmarillion). You can break Lord of the Rings into three books for additional chaos, if you like.

Oh, I'll do you one better and also rank all the adaptations I've seen too ;) Please understand that, though I'm splitting up the three installments of LotR, I only like one marginally more or less than the others. They're all amazing, and best taken as a whole.

The Two Towers (book)

The Return of the King (book)

The Fellowship of the Ring (book)

The Fellowship of the Ring (movie)

The Return of the King (movie)

The Two Towers (movie)

The Silmarillion

The Hobbit (book)

The Lord of the Rings (BBC radio drama)

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

The Hobbit (animated movie)

The Lord of the Rings (animated movie)

Rings of Power does not belong on this list because it has nothing to do with Tolkien except what it has plundered and then trampled underfoot. Also I haven't technically seen it, just extensive reviews that expose every last flaw for the world to see.

Tolkien Twenty Questions

[catbowserauthor]

MIDDLE EARTH 30 DAY Challenge Day 27 Isengard or Mordor?

This is a fun question.

Isengard quickly becomes associated with Saruman, mining, the orcs, the Urk-hai and various other dangerous creatures so that it's really easy to forget that it wasn't always like that. In fact, as we learn from Treebeard, the Ents were actually strong allies with Saruman, who used to tend to their lands. As a reminder, Isengard was once quite lush, beautiful and green:

 I admit that I honestly forgot how utterly beautiful Isengard was at the beginning of these movies because it is turned into such a desolate place after Saruman's fall. It's after Saruman turns to an alliance with Sauron that the land loses its luster. Saruman orders the trees cut down, the ground dug up, the earth scorched with fire. The river is damned and only rock, dirt, mud and fire dictate the landscape.

The Ents, who once had a strong alliance with wizard as he used to care for their forests and trees, turn against their former friend due to the harsh treatment of their kind and the land. Treebeard's quote is among my favorites:

Treebeard: Many of these trees were my friends. Creatures I had known from nut and acorn. Pippin: I'm sorry, Treebeard. Treebeard: They had voices of their own... Saruman... A wizard should know better! [He gives a loud yell which echoes across the landscape] Treebeard: There is no curse in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of men for this treachery! [More Ents emerge from the woods, following Treebeard] Pippin: Look, the trees! They're moving! Merry: Where are they going? Treebeard: They have business with the Orcs. My business is with Isengard tonight, with rock and stone! [More Ents emerge from the woods, joining Treebeard] Treebeard: Come, my friends. The Ents are going to war. It is likely that we go to our doom. The last march of the Ents.

However, I feel like I still have to give the edge to Mordor, if only because Mordor drips with the atmosphere of corruption. It's referred to, several times, as the land of the Black Speech, the land of Shadow. Sauron chose the volcanic plains of Mordor because of the strategic position: they are surrounded on three sides by nearly impenetrable mountains and the large flat plains are inhospitable to invaders.

The whole existence of Mordor is designed to be unapproachable, dark and unwelcoming. That gives a great atmosphere to a fortress of a villain and Mordor has served not only Sauron but Morgoth himself, with it being speculated that he was the cause of the great volcanic activity that purged the whole of Mordor, save a small corner, of being able to produce life, be it vegetation or civilization.

From a story telling standpoint, there is a lot of possibilities with Mordor because there's a lot we don't understand or know about it. We know some of the history, we know it's the Land of Shadows and has been essentially created to house evil and corruption. We know that from a strategic standpoint, it's extremely difficult to conquer. Sam and Frodo give us a some idea of that just on their journey to Mount Doom.

So, I'd say Mordor is more interesting simply because I see so many possibilities with it. Plus, I must wonder...what is South of Mordor?

[inthememetime]

LOTR kid AU idea

Feel free to write this, I won't, just please tag me in it. Most of it is under the cut.

The Fellowship are all very new to the area, which is why none of them know each other.

Gandalf is the babysitter, but believes in letting kids have adventures.

Boromir's dad is in the military, so he wants to be a Great Knight. When he dies, it's because he was grounded for putting hair removal cream in his dad's shampoo. He's totally fine.

Aragorn just wants to play horses but fine he'll go on an adventure. What do you MEAN I have to be KING?? I'm telling Arwen! ...... Arwen says I have to be king because she wants to be a queen. ☹

Legolas is in archery classes and his dad is too drunk cool to care that his kid is bringing his bow and arrows to playtime. He doesn't talk a lot, but the other kids make up really impressive shots he did when he was really just shooting a can off a fence.

Gimli's cousins Fíli and Kíli are off at college so he pretends they (and Uncle Thorin, who is on a business trip) are dead. He gets really upset when they stop by Uncle (technically cousin) Balin's house and finds out somebody else is living there. He has completely forgotten that Uncle Balin moved across town after his lease was up because he hated his landlord (the balrog).

Gimli's Uncle's (technically cousin's) landlord (the Balrog) starts a screaming fit at the kids and Gandalf tells the kids to go play somewhere else while he Handles It. Needless to say, they think Gandalf dies. He does not.

Gandalf turns around, and instead of playing on the neighbor's swing sets, he's now missing 9 kids. He never should've agreed to babysit someone related to Bilbo (Frodo, Merry, & Pippin) or Thorin (Gimli).

Merry and Pippin are told to play outside every day because otherwise they'll get in trouble with their siblings. They join the adventure because it sounds fun. While playing hide and seek with Boromir, they hide in a train car.... which then starts moving, prompting the others to follow the tracks. They get off at the next stop, make friends with a hippie community, and egg the 'evil' principle Saruman's house.

At this point, Saruman calls Theoden, Eomer, and Eowyn

Sam and Frodo split off after Boromir calls Frodo names because he will share all of his snacks except the Taki's. The Taki's are only shared with Sam. This ends up being a Bad Decision.

The Taki's are now too hot in their mouths, so Sam and Frodo go to find a place with water. On the way, they stumbled onto an abandoned theme park. "Didn't Mr. Gandalf say something an abandoned theme park?" "Yeah, but I can't remember if he said we can play here or not." "It looks really cool though..." "We'll just explore!"

Spoiler alert, the kids are NOT allowed to play there. Angry skinheads and other creeps hang out here.

The moment Gandalf finally has Aragorn, Gimli, Pippin, Aragorn, and Merry on one place, Merry and Eowyn decide they're now besties. He needs to find Sam and Frodo, so he leaves Merry with Eowyn and Eomer, and goes with the other 4 to see if Sam and Frodo went to play XBox with Boromir.

The only place he's banned the kids from playing is the abandoned theme park, so he's got a pretty good feeling that's where they are. He doesn't notice all the kids (except Boromir who is still grounded) following him until Aragorn hits a skinhead with a baseball bat.

At this point, he realizes a bunch of adults are here too and sh*t his babysitting side gig is done for.

Sam and Frodo have a Terrifying Encounter with a methhead and a tarantula, and hide in Sauron's truck. The truck is in neutral, not park, and at the top of a very steep hill. Gravity does its thing, and all of the Mordor Amusement Park and Museum knows they're there.

This is about the point where Hamfast and Bilbo have found out what's happening. Bilbo is generally avoided because he can, and has, shanked people to death and hotwires Sauron's truck. He and Hamfast get the kids out of there (eagles of Manwë) before the cops can find out Bilbo broke parole by carrying a weapon. (Frodo later says he stole Bilbo’s trusty knife for playtime) Stealing a car (Hamfast says he did that) and being within 100 feet of that creepy little methhead (which the cops can't prove, but Bilbo did indeed break both his kneecaps for chasing His Kids- all childrenleft with Bilbo for over 12 hours are His Kids now).

[wistfulcynic]

biblio - philia

@courtorderedcake often sends me posts and picsets, which I love, but I know she’s hoping they might spark a fic and as I generally have fifteen ideas on the go at any given time, I don't always have the spoons to follow through on even a promising prompt. 

However. 

This little ficlet is inspired by this post sent to me by Court. It... got a bit emotional. I hope you like it ❤️. 

-

Words: 1.5k Rating: G Tags: modern AU, books, rough childhoods, some pretty sappy emotions, ngl. 

On AO3

-

biblio - philia:

“So what kind of books do you like to read?” 

Emma hesitates with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Um,” she says, then stuffs the bite in and takes her time chewing it as she tries to come up with an answer that won’t make her sound like a child.

 “I really like short stories,” she says finally. 

“Oh?” Walsh raises an eyebrow and it occurs to Emma, not for the first time, that he can be really fucking patronising. Why did she agree to this date, again? “Saki?” he asks with a smirk. “O Henry? Poe?” 

“Fairy tales,” she replies shortly, irritated by him pulling author names out of thin freaking air as though he knows them. Maybe he does, but that doesn’t make it any less obnoxious. 

“Fairy tales?” he says with a scoff. “Pretty princess stories?”  

Emma frowns. There are no pretty princesses in the stories she’s talking about. 

“Witches, more like,” she says. “Baba Yaga. Nourie Hadig. Vasilissa the Fair.” 

“Oh.” Walsh looks taken aback, and she draws perverse pleasure from it. He doesn’t know everything, much as he likes to pretend he does. “That’s—well, it’s not what I would have expected.” 

It’s not really what Emma would have expected either. She’s never been much of a reader. It was hard to be, bouncing from one school to the next, never really having time to settle in and form relationships with teachers and school librarians. No foster home she ever lived in had much to offer in the way of reading material, and she just never developed the knack of escaping into books. 

Not like Killian had. 

“Saved my life, is what they did,” he said, tracing the gilded title on his copy of Treasure Island. “When my father was drunk and my mum was crying. Liam made me stay in our room, said there wasn’t anything I could do to help. Which was probably true, but I could still hear them. I could hear—” He swallowed hard, gave his head a tiny shake. “Unless I had a book,” he continued hoarsely. “Then I could shut it all out, pretend I was sailing off in search of Flint’s treasure or taking the Ring to Mordor. Books kept me sane.” He looked up to meet Emma’s eyes. “I’d like for you to know that too,” he said softly. “That… transportation to another place, away from all things that trouble you.” 

She shook her head, her chest aching. “I’m not like you,” she said. “Words don’t—I don’t know, they don’t vibe with me. I just get bored if I try to read.” 

“What if I read to you?” 

“What?” 

His face was hopeful, his eyes a drowning blue. “What if I read out loud and you listened?” 

“Um, well—” She thought about it. About Killian’s deep, smooth voice telling her a story. About sitting, cosy under a blanket, and just listening to him. “—yeah.” She gave a small shrug. “Maybe, if you wanted to.” 

He smiled. “Let’s give it a try.” 

And still, Emma thinks, she’s never read a book. 

~

The date ends as early as she can manage it. Walsh drives her home, tries to invite himself in. 

“Best not,” says Emma with a tight smile. “My roommate’s probably asleep.” 

“Ah.” There’s tension in Walsh’s smile as well. “Sure,” he says. “Your roommate.” 

She wants to ask him what the hell he’s trying to insinuate, but also she doesn’t really care. She gave Walsh a chance and it didn’t work out, and—

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” says Walsh. “Maybe we can—” 

“I don’t think so,” Emma replies firmly. “I don’t think you and I are going to work.” 

“Yeah.” Walsh sighs. “Yeah. Okay, then.” 

He gives her a nod then turns to go. No further words are spoken. 

Emma turns the key in the lock as quietly as she can, creeps into the apartment on the tips of her toes. The television screen wants to know if he’s still watching but Killian is sound asleep on the sofa. Emma smiles softly as she brushes back a lock of hair that’s fallen across his forehead. This is a turnaround, she thinks. Normally it’s her falling asleep, to the soothing sound of Killian’s voice as he reads her a tale. 

She doesn’t think she can carry him to bed the way he does her. 

“Killian?” she murmured, nuzzling sleepily at his neck as he lifted her from the sofa. The effortless ease of the motion, the smell of his skin and the warmth of his breath on her cheek had her heart fluttering, her belly clenching with sensations she couldn’t bring herself to name. 

“Shh, love,” he replied. “Go back to sleep.” 

“But is it finished?” she protested. “How did it end?” 

Killian laid her gently on her bed and pulled the blanket over her. “We’ll read the end tomorrow,” he said softly, and she was sure she imagined the press of his lips on her brow as she drifted into dreams. 

They never do read the ends, though, she thinks now. The next night is always another story, another ending she falls asleep before she can hear. 

“Killian,” she says softly, brushing her fingertips down his cheek. “Killian, wake up.” 

“Hmmm?” he mumbles, sleepy eyelids blinking open. “Swan?” 

“Hey. You fell asleep.” 

“So it seems.” 

“I just thought you might prefer to do that in your bed, so you don’t wake up with a crick in your neck.” 

“Aye.” He sits up and rubs the neck in question. Emma gulps as she watches the cords stretch as he does, and the ripple of muscle beneath his t-shirt as he rolls his shoulders. “How was the date?” he asks. 

“Eh.” She shrugs. “There won’t be a second.” 

“I’m sorry, love.” 

“I’m not. I wasn’t that into him to begin with.” 

“Well, so long as you aren’t upset.” He’s watching her so intently.

“Definitely not.” 

His expression relaxes into a smile. “I’ll say good night then,” he says, standing and moving towards his door. 

“Good night, Killian.” Her heart twists a bit as she watches it close behind him.

~

In her room she sits on the bed and kicks off her heels, reaches into the paper bag that sits on her bedside table. A soft knock sounds at her door. 

“Come in,” she calls, letting the item fall back into the bag. 

The door opens and Killian steps in, rubbing at his neck with one hand and holding a very familiar object in the other. 

“We, uh, didn’t get a chance to read tonight,” he says. “And I thought—well, I thought perhaps you might be ready to see some of these endings for yourself. That you might like to keep this for your own.” 

He reaches his hand out to her and she takes what he’s holding, staring wide-eyed at the worn cover, her thumb tracing along the F in Fairy Tales. 

“But—” She looks up at him, dumbfounded. “This is your favourite.” 

“Aye,” he agrees. “It’s seen me through some very tough times. That’s why I want for it to be yours.” 

There’s a lump in Emma’s throat and she has to swallow hard around it. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I’ll take good care of it.” 

He nods and turns to go. 

“Killian!” she cries out, and he turns to her again. “I—I love this book,” she says. “I love it because you love it and because I—” She can’t finish the sentence but Killian���s eyes snap to hers and the look in them is ferocious. She grips the book tight to her chest and reaches into the bag on her table. 

“I bought this today,” she says, pulling out another book. The same book. A newer copy, with a tougher cover and illustrated with real engravings. “I was going to read it tonight, but now—” Now she holds his book against her heart and knows she can’t part with it, not for anything. Not for all the world. 

“Now I want you to have it.” 

“I—” He takes the book almost reverently, eyes shining as he runs his fingers over the cover. “I don’t—” 

“I want it to be yours,” she whispers. 

“Emma,” he chokes, and then he is pulling her close, his fingers in her hair and their books knocking against each other. “I’ll treasure it,” he says his voice thick and rough with emotion. 

The words he doesn’t speak are the most precious ones she’s never heard.  

“I love these stories,” she says. “But only in your voice. The words are beautiful but it’s you speaking them that transports me. I bought the new book for the words but it doesn’t have you in it. This one, though—” She grips the old book tighter. 

“That one is my heart.” 

“And that one—” she nods to the new book, clutched tight against his chest “—is my hope.”

“Your hope?” 

“For an ending,” she whispers. “A happy one.” 

He rests his forehead against hers and she sighs into his embrace. “Oh, my love,” he breathes. “That, at least, I can promise.” 

-

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - March 3rd

This day and the night of the 3rd-4th cover the bulk of the remaining war between Saruman and Rohan, with the Battle of Helm’s Deep occurring in the night. The forces of the Rohirrim defending the Fords of Isen (led by Erkenbrand, Grimbold, and Elfhelm) have been scattered or slain by the assault of Saruman’s vast armies (well oven ten thousand individuals) the previous night, while Théoden is riding towards the Fords with reinforcements of about a thousand men. So Théoden is vastly outnumbered.

This is extremely long; I apologize. But it did help me get the events of the battle arranged properly in my head for the first time.

At dawn the Rohirrim led by Théoden continue their ride west, followed by a storm out of the east. Legolas can see as far as Isengard, and tells Gandalf what he sees:

I can see a darkness. There are shapes moving in it, great shapes far away upon the bank of the river; but what they are I cannot tell. It is not mist or cloud that defeats my eyes: there is a veiling shadow that some power lays upon the land, and it marches slowly down stream. It is as if the twilight under endless trees were flowing downwards from the hills.

From this Gandalf knows that the Ents have attacked Isengard, though he does not say this to anyone else.

In the afternoon the storm overtakes the Rohirrim. Just after sunset, a rider, Ceorl, meets them; he is from Grimbold’s forces and brings news of the defeat at the Fords, and that Erkenbrand has drawn off what men he can towards Helm’s Deep. Gandalf looks north to Isengard, and advises Théoden to ride for Helm’s Deep, not for the Fords; then he rides away at a gallop.

Here is the layout of Helm’s Deep. There is a coombe (a valley running up between the mountains, making a rough triangle pointing at the mountains), called the Deeping-Coomb. From the mountain-facing point of this valley, there is a gorge winding into the mountains, called Helm’s Deep; behind the gorge, winding under the mountains, are the caves of Aglarond. At the gorge’s mouth, called Helm’s Gate, there is a heel of rock jutting out from the cliff, with walls and a tower (the Hornburg, built by Gondor in the days of its strength); there is also a wall, running from the heel of rock to the other side of the gorge, fully blocking off the entrance to the gorge. This wall, the Deeping Wall, is 20 feet high, with a tall parapet and clefts allowing archers to shoot, and is wide enough for four men to walk abreast. In the wall there is a culvert letting out the Deeping-Stream. There is a stair from the wall to the Hornburg, and three more stairs from it down into the Deep.

Helm’s Dike, a trench and rampart, provides an additional level of defence further out, running from the cliff-walls on either side of the coombe’s point. It is two furlongs (400m, or a quarter-mile) from Helm’s Gate, about a mile long, and there is a wide breech in it to let the Deeping-stream out. A narrow causeway runs out from the Hornburg out to the midpoint of the dike, and crosses the Deeping-stream; where the causeway meets the Hornburg, there is the great gate.

The Rohirrim find wolf-riders already in the coombe when they reach it. Their westward scouts have found many slain men and scattered companies, do not know where Erkenbrand is, and report a large force of Saruman’s troops marching from the Fords to Helm’s Deep. Many have seen Gandalf riding to and fro, but have no idea what he is up to. As they ride into the coombe, they find few foes, and those they do see flee before they can be captured or killed. The Rohirrim can see and hear a large army pursuing them, and burning homesteads in the valley.

When they reach Helm’s Dike, they learn that there are about a thousand men at Helm’s deep, those left by Erkenbrand and those who retreated from the Fords and came to the Deep; but many are old man or boys. Théoden’s army has another thousand, making two thousand total. There are also refugees from the Westfold (in the caves of Aglarond). Théoden’s forces enter Helm’s Deep via the causeway in single file, dismounted.

Eómer organizes the defense. Théoden, the men of his household, and many of the men of Westfolf are stationed in the Hornburg, while the bulk of the forces - including Eoómer, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli - are placed on the Deeping Wall.

Around midnight, Saruman’s forces overrun Helm’s Dike, and the rearguard of Rohirrim escapes to the Deep. At the same time, the storm out of the east hits, with thunder, lightning, and rain. The enemy attacks the Deeping Wall and the causeway, are pushed back several times, but then manage to get up the causeway and reach the gate from the causeway into the Hornburg with battering-rams. Eómer and Aragorn in a flash of lightning see the gate’s danger.

Running like fire, they sped along the wall, and up the steps, and passed into the outer court upon the Rock [Hornburg]. As they ran they gathered a handful of stouts swordsmen. There was a small postern-door that opened at an angle of the burg-wall on the west, where the cliff stretched out to meet it. On that side a narrow path ran round toward the great gate, between the wall and the sheer brink of the rock. Together Éomer and Aragorn spring through the door, their men close behind. The two swords flashed from the sheath as one...Dismayed the rammers let fall the trees and turned to fight; but the wall of their shields was broken as by a lightning-stroke, and they were swept away, hewn down, or cast over the Rock into the stony stream below.

However, the gate is badly damaged, and the most that can be done is to barricade it from within the Hornburg. Éomer is tripped and nearly killed by orcs who were pretending to be dead, but is rescued by Gimli, who had followed the sortie. The storm has now largely passed and the moon is shining.

The assault continues, both against the gate and - with ropes and ladders - against the Deeping Wall. Orcs creep into the Deep through the culvert and attack within the Deep at a moment when the attack on the wall is strongest; Gimli jumps down into the Deep to fight them, and some of the defenders of the Hornburg hear him and join him, killing the orcs. Gimli helps them block up the culvert. However, the enemy uses some some explosives developed by Saruman to blow the culvert open again, and flood into the Deep, while pushing a fresh assault against the wall at the same time. The Deep is taken and the defenders of the wall are swept away, either back to the caves (Gimli, Éomer) or to the Hornburg (Aragorn and Legolas, who defend the stairs up to the Hornburg until everyone else has retreated).

Aragorn brings news of the events to Théoden in the tower of the Hornburg. Théoden plans to ride out at dawn against the enemy, and Aragorn commits to ride with him. Until then, Aragorn, Legolas, and the other defenders continue to repel attacks on the outer wall of the Hornburg. At dawn Saruman’s forces break the great gate of the Hornburg with blasting fire, but at that moment the horn of Helm Hammerhand is sounded and Théoden and his men ride out, with Aragorn, sweeping over the causeway and all the way to Helm’s Dike; and forces that retreated to the caves push out into the Deep, driving back the enemy, reinforced by all the Rohirrim remaining in the Hornburg.

And they see in the sunlight that all the Deeping-coomb is filled with trees, with open ground only extending 400m (a quarter-mile) from the dike; and Saruman’s army is packed within that area. Then Erkenbrand and his men - a thousand infantry - with Gandalf, arrive on the ridge on one side of the coomb, and charge Saruman’s army. The orcs flee into the trees and are destroyed; the remaining men in Saruman’s army surrender.

Ugh, I still need to cover events elsewhere. Okay, as briefly as possible:

Gandalf spent the night 1) riding to Isengard to get Treebeard to send the Huorns south to Helm’s Deep; 2) finding Erkenbrand; 3) sending some of Grimbold’s men to join Erkenbrand, and others to bury the Rohirrim who fell at the Second Battle of the Fords; and 4) sending Elfhelm and his men to Edoras to reinforce its defences.

As for the Ents: in the early morning of the 3rd Treebeard calms them down from their destruction of Isengard and tell them his plan to flood Isengard to deal with Saruman’s fires. They spend the day on this work, damming and diverting the Isen. Gandalf arrives some time after dusk (shocking Merry and Pippin, who thought he was dead), has a hurried conversation with Treebeard, and rides off again; Treebeard sends the Huorns south. Around midnight the Ents flood Isengard.

Frodo and Sam continue their journey to Mordor, across dry slopes of mud.

For two more nights [the 2nd-3rd and 3rd-4th] they struggled on through the weary pathless land. The air, as it seemed to them, grew harsh, and filled with a bitter reek that caught their breath and parched their mouths.

[anylessreal]

Hey! I’ve been spending quarantine re reading you watched me sink and I remembered you had this little ask about how hl are in the future and I just basically died with fluff again skdjsjs so I was wondering if you hs anything else in mind for them, or if you could write something short about hl and walter the dog? thank you so much anyway, ywms is one of my favourite fica ever 💗

Hiiii! I took a break from my WIP and wrote you something! It’s complete fluff but I hope you like it! 💖😚 Here’s the post about their future if anyone wants it!

—

“And that’s how I grew up thinking cereal was a vegetable,” Harry concludes with a snort as they turn onto the end of their street.

Louis just shakes his head in disbelief before his tongue darts out to swipe a line along the edge of his ice cream cone.

“I can’t believe I married you,” he says, and not in a good way. “Walter, why didn’t you warn me your dad only had two braincells before I put a ring on him?”

“Hey,” Harry frowns as Walter glances towards Louis from where he’s ambling along on the pavement between them, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “I thought you knew I only had two.”

“I mean, I always suspected,” Louis starts, throwing Harry his own serious look that ends up dissolving into quiet, teasing giggles. If Harry didn’t have their dog’s lead wrapped around one hand and his own ice cream cone gripped in his other, he’d give Louis a pinch in the bum.

“You’re the one who asked me,” Harry points out. “If you really suspected, you didn’t have to go through with the whole proposal and the wedding and the marrying me ordeal.”

“It was a pity proposal,” Louis tells him. “I knew no one on this earth could love you the way I could, so I went ahead and did it myself.”

“No one on this earth?” Harry asks. “So, like, if I teleported back to my home planet…?”

“You’d have a line of little green alien suitors waiting at your door,” Louis nods. “Yes.”

“And instead, I’m stuck with you,” Harry sighs wistfully as they reach the driveway leading up to the quaint house they’d bought together almost two years ago, just a few months after their wedding. Knowing it’s the end of their walk, Walter automatically starts slowing down, his mission accomplished, his adventure over. Harry drops his lead, lets him drag it the rest of the way up their driveway, past their cars, past his motorcycle, while he and Louis bring up the rear.

“Tired, buddy?” Louis calls out to their dog as Walter takes a patient seat in front of the gate to their back garden. “Old age creeping up on you?”

“Don’t say that,” Harry chides, giving Louis’ arm a light bump with the back of his hand. “He’s seven. He’s middle-aged.”

“He looks like a little old wizard though.”

“Leave his beard alone,” Harry shakes his head. “You said we should let it grow out and stop trimming it, and now you’re teasing him for it.”

Louis ignores him. “Oh, Walter the Wise, will you show me the way to Mordor?” he asks, pitching his voice so it draws Walter’s attention, their dog’s head cocking to the side, his scraggly ears perking up. “What’s that you say? We shall not pass?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Harry tells their dog as they reach the gate. He bends to give Walter a good scratch behind the ears and unclip his walking harness as Louis undoes the gate latch. “He’s just jealous I give you all the cuddles.”

“No, you give me plenty of cuddles,” Louis notes. “I just think he looks like he’s studied a thousand ancient tomes and could probably open a portal to the underworld if he wanted to.”

“You’re so weird,” Harry huffs with a shake of his head. “Come on, Walty. Inside.”

Their dog trots into their back garden, his furry butt wiggling from side to side as he disappears around the back of the house. Louis shuts the gate behind them, wraps his arm around Harry’s waist, and draws him against his side as he sinks his teeth into his ice cream cone with an audible crunch.

“Thank you for doing that right in my ear,” Harry deadpans. “So sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis mumbles around a mouthful. “Thanks for the ice cream, baby.”

“My pleasure.”

“Why does it look like you’ve barely eaten any?” Louis asks, noticing how full Harry’s cone still is. “Are you even trying?”

“I’m savoring it,” Harry shrugs before he swirls his tongue rather suggestively around the melting top scoop.

“You don’t have to eat it like that,” Louis sighs.

Harry goes down on the top of it, lips sealing around the ice cream, sliding down to the rim of the cone and pulling back up with a slurping noise. He licks the very top, bats his eyelashes innocently. “Like what?”

Louis just taps the end of the cone and mushes the ice cream into Harry’s upper lip and nose. Some of it definitely goes up a nostril. Harry can’t stand him.

“Come here,” he says as Louis scampers away from him, wicked grin on his face. He licks what he can off his lip, not quite able to reach his nose.

“You’ve got a little something,” Louis says as he walks backwards to the back door, pointing to his own nose to indicate what’s left. “Just up there.”

“Where?” Harry asks following him onto their cracked brick patio.

“Like, right here,” Louis says, almost tripping over one of their garden chairs. He grabs it and sets it between them to hold Harry up. “I can go inside and get you a mirror if you’d like?”

“Or you could help me yourself,” Harry says, stepping over the chair.

“Fucking long legs,” Louis sighs with a shake of his head. “That’s okay. You stay here. I’ll take Walter inside and make sure he–”

“Lou,” Harry cuts him off, the corner of his mouth stretching into a crooked smirk. “I have the key.”

“Shit.”

“Come here,” Harry tries to coax him forward as he corners Louis on the two steps leading up to their back door. Walter’s already sitting on the platform, trying to figure out what’s taking his dads so long to let him inside.

Louis’ back hits the railing.

“Do not even think about it,” he warns, holding out his free hand and setting it against Harry’s abdomen. “Harry fucking Tomlinson-Styles.”

“What?” Harry grins, crowding into his husband’s space.

“Don’t you dare.”

But Harry drops Walter’s lead at their feet, cups the back of Louis’ head, and gives him a big, wet, sticky smooch, making sure to press his nose right into the side of his cheek.

“Mmm,” he hums obnoxiously as Louis pushes him back. “Mint chocolate chip.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’ve got something on your cheek.”

“I know,” Louis nods, and then he goes and takes Harry’s face and wipes his cheek right against his own before setting their lips together again, arm curling around the back of his neck.

He really does taste like mint chocolate chip. Harry presses him back against the corner of the railing that meets their house, Louis’ shoulder hitting the outer wall. He’s pretty sure they have some spider webs back there, but he’s not about to break the kiss to let Louis know.

“This is really sticky,” Louis murmurs against his lips, the wrinkling of his nose felt against the side of Harry’s. He still licks over Harry’s bottom lip though, still slots their mouths together, still hitches his leg up try and draw Harry closer like he’s not about to let him go.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” is all Harry remarks before slides his free hand from Louis’ hip all the way around his lower back, Louis curving into him.

And then the dog barks.

“Oops,” mutters Louis, sheepishly releasing Harry from his hold to peer around him at their dog still waiting to go inside. “Sorry, bud.”

“Always such a cockblock,” Harry sighs, reaching into his pocket for his set of keys. “One of these days, I’ll teach you how to unlock a door all on your own.”

“Good luck,” Louis snorts. He chomps down on the last bit of his ice cream cone, nodding towards Harry’s as he chews. “’S melting.”

“I know,” Harry says, giving it a quick lick as he jams the key into the lock. He twists it, pushes the door in, and watches as Walter hurries inside to lap from his water dish, his feet slipping all over the tiled floor. When he looks back at Louis, he catches sight of the giant smear of ice cream drying along the side of his face.

“What?” Louis asks, watching Harry’s grin turn into a soft chuckle as Harry averts his gaze and stares down at his feet.

“Nothing,” he says with a small shake of his head. “Just admiring your beauty, is all.”

Louis rolls his eyes, knees him right in the arse as he slips past him to get to the open door. “If you think I don’t fucking know there’s still ice cream on my face, you’re truly an idiot.”

“I love you,” is all Harry says, as if that should be enough to appease him.

It is. His face softens, his shoulders relax. He even waits inside for Harry.

“You too,” he says like it pains him to admit it before he begrudgingly steals another kiss from him. “You and all two of your braincells.”

[gayjaytodd]

☀️🔥🍂💎 for Míriel Silvertongue please?

Ahhh, the sister of Celebrimbor, daughter of Curufin, granddaughter of Fëanor, named for Míriel Þerindë, created back when I still thought I was a woman -- I love her almost as much as I love you, babe!!! 

☀️ What makes your OC genuinely happy? A person, an item, their hobby? Where is the place they’re happiest, or most at home? What is the happiest they’ve ever been? 

Alright, so, the happiest Míriel has ever been was when she was living in Nargothrond and got to be around Finduilas, with whom she was desperately in love; nothing ever felt better than when she would spend time with Finduilas in the underground gardens in Nargothrond (this ties into my headcanons about Nargothrond btw - let me know if you want more details on that!)

She always feels the calmest and most at home at the beach, by the sea, because she’s half-teleri and the ‘sea sings in her blood’ -- something that her mother used to tell her when she was a child.

During the Second Age, Celebrimbor is the one person who always makes her feel genuinely happy (they had a falling out after Curufin and Celegorm left Nargothrond; Míriel insisted it was their duty to follow them but Celebrimbor refused) - her reaction to his death is very severe:

As the host of Sauron marched forth on the plain of Dagorlad, the fate and doom of Celebrimbor, dwarf friend and lord of Eregion, became clear at last; much torment they had wrought upon his body and hoisted him upon a spear, while he still drew breath. There he hung still, though his spirit had long since left him, his eyes had been removed and he was pierced with many black arrows. The foul hordes of Mordor now marched behind, under and around him, as if he was their banner. A deep silence fell upon the hosts of Elves and Men and Dwarves at the sight. Then Míriel Silvertongue, sister to Celebrimbor, cried aloud, in a voice elven-clear and ancient and perilous beyond words, qualmè ten Ambar-metta! Woe unto World’s end! Again, she cried out as she rode forth upon her grey steed and behind her rallied the survivors of Eregion, and they took up the cry, which spread amongst Men and Noldor, until they cried as with one voice. Galadriel of Lórien alone was silent.Thus, rode Míriel the Silvertongued forth to reclaim her brother’s body, and in her eyes burned so fell a fire, that the Orcs of Mordor fled before her, crying that Fëanor himself had returned.Many of the Elves of Eregion fell there about her, but Míriel regained their Lord’s body and she brought him back to the camp of Elrond. There she laid her head upon her brother’s breast and lay as one dead for many days, for such was her grief that she could not even move, and she rode not again forth to take part in the Battle of Dagorlad where Gil-Galad and Elendil fell ere Sauron was defeated.

Post-Second Age, she lives in Imladris where she finds the most pleasure and happiness in gardening -- and in creeping out mortals by being Weird™ and Cryptic™ and Ancient™.

🔥 If your OC known for having temper tantrums? If not, what gets them really angry? What makes their blood BOIL? Is there anyway to calm them down or are they unstoppable? What are they like when they’re angry? Do they take it out on their loved ones?

She’s kind of known for the opposite of having temper tantrums; no one ever quite knows what she’s thinking or feeling in any given situation -- she’s a master manipulator and part of that is keeping herself under extremely tight control.

And, by the time the Fourth Age comes around, she’s so old that she’s pretty much unflappable; she has an air of I’ve Seen It All Before so it’s pretty rare for things to get her up in arms, so to speak.

What does get her blood boiling is accusations of or perceived betrayal; it’s what makes her fall out with Celebrimbor in Nargothrond, when he refuses to follow their father, which she sees as treason -- she’s loyal to her father (and grandfather) to the point of irrationality.

Another thing that can set her off, much much later, are people who act as though they’re the only ones who have experienced pain or suffering.

When she does get angry, it’s almost like she turns into ice. She becomes extremely cold, and very superior/condescending, and even sarcastic. Her anger has been likened to a ‘winter so cold it will give you frostbite’.

🍂 What are their opinions on the different seasons? Which one do they hate and which one do they love and why? 

She loves the changing seasons! Seeing the world change around her, helps her remember that although she doesn’t change, everything else does.

Although she loves all four seasons, spring has a special place in her heart; the sight and feeling of everything coming back to life reminds her that no matter how dark the metaphorical night gets, the dawn will always come.

💎 Does your OC collect anything? Is there a reason? When did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? What do they do with their collection?

She collects seashells; all sorts of shells - if it can be found on a beach, she will pick it up and take it home. Her rooms in Imladris have shells on every surface, seemingly just strewn everywhere but she insists that it’s ‘organised chaos’ (it isn’t).

It’s a habit she’s had since she was a child; she used to go walking by the beaches of Alqualondë with her mother and they’d pick seashells together, and save jellyfish that had been washed ashore by throwing them back into the water.

Thanks for the ask, babe xx

ASK ME ABOUT MY OC’S

[the-imagination-archive]

𝕽𝖊𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝕺𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓

Pairing: Aragorn x Elf!Reader + Brother!Legolas

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, war, angst

Disclaimer: Characters and setting belong to J.R.R Tolkien and the elvish may be incorrect. Translations will be at the end. 

Description: The reader and Aragorn had been friends since before the fellow ship had formed, Months prior Arwen had decided to leave him for the undying lands without a second thought. Aragorn was heart broken but when you both had reunited after many years something sparked. You had become his and carried on your quest with the fellowship. During the last fight at Mordor you had fallen, and beneath the rubble and bodies you laid. Still alive but couldn't be found. Everyone returned to Minas Tirith but you. Finally after the long journey from Mordor to Minas Tirith on foot and wounded you long to be healed and to see the face of your beloved after finally attaining victory. But when your eyes fall upon him, the fair she-elf in his arms eyes fall upon you. 

You stood among your comrades with bated breath, the doors of Mordor looming ahead. Closing your eyes you let out a breath in hopes of soothing your fear riddled heart. You left a familiar calloused hand gently cup your cheek and turn your face, eyes still lidded. You felt a forehead press to yours and you stayed still and quiet in that moment.  "Aragorn, please don't die" you breathed out, your breath gently caressing his lips. 

Many days you spent trying to convince him to stay in Minas Tirith, to stay away from Sauron and the Orcs of Mordor. The people would need their king with them, to soothe their fears and give them guidance. How was he to do that from the very gates of Mordor? He would simply shake his head and smile his beautiful heartache of a smile and murmur "Meleth, I shall not lose you in that battle. I shall not sit here in discomfort while you are away fighting for a kingdom that isn't yours." No matter your persistence here he was in front of you. 

Aragorn hushed you, "Battle is never a sure thing meleth. Gi melin, let us enjoy this moment together as it may be our last. Let us not spend what could be our last moment in fear and worry...but in happiness. As there is no more honorable way to die than for the one you love." your lip quiver and pools filled your (E/C) orbs but you held it back because he was right. If you shall die this day you would gladly throw down your immortality for him. "Gi melin" you murmured before meeting his lips, his hand moved from your cheek to your neck as he returned the kiss. 

You both reluctantly pulled away as the gates of Mordor loudly creaked open, scraping the earth, the echo itself instilled fear into the men around you. "Stand your ground men! Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers, i see in you I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when  the courage of Men fails; when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship; but it is not this day - an hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the Age of Man comes crashing down - but it is not this day!!! This day we fight by all that you hold dear on this good earth I bid you stand!" 

Aragorn raised his sword to the heavens and out erupted howls of determination from the soldiers, they were ready to plunge themselves into the next life if it meant to protect the ones they love. 

Within mere moments of the gates becoming agape hordes or mangled, bloodthirsty orcs flooded out and had surrounded everyone. You sent one last look to Aragorn, your eyes meeting for what felt like a millennia, you could see all your memories flashing through his grey pools. A single tear streaked your cheek as he turned his back and charged into battle roaring out a battle cry that soon all including yourself joined in with. The battle started so quickly, blood of man and orc painting the soil. 

You fought with a clear view of Aragorn, willing and ready to run to his aid if need be. You gripped your elvish blades and slashed all orcs who neared you. Head were sent rolling past your feet while you fought with the passion of a thousand men. Aragorn’s face continued to flash through your mind, the day you met many decades ago, the day he had told you of his feeling for your best friend Arwen, The look he had when she left without so much as a goodbye. You had been so distracted by your thoughts that you failed to notice the filth of a creature coming up behind you. 

"Y/N!!!" Your brother Legolas cried out, twisting around a moment too late as orcish steel pierced through your middle. Aragorn turned hearing the mention of your name and watched in horror as the blade was roughly torn from you. He felt the world pause as your form limply hit the ground. His chest tightened as he saw your eyes slowly flutter shut. 

Rage filled his chest and Hate clouded his eyes as he began fighting with more ferocity than all of the beasts in middle earth. His blade tore through orc after orc feeling nothing but burning pain and the need for revenge coursing through him. Corpses began to pile and  surround the saviors of the world. Frodo had gotten the ring into the pits of mount doom and Sauron was defeated. The survivors cheered for their victory while Legolas and Aragorn searched through as many piles of bodies as they could, searching for their precious Y/n. 

They both stood facing the sunset with heavy hearts. They couldn't find you and they simply hated the though of leaving you to rot among the filth but the return to Minas Tirith was imminent. So with much reluctance and the heaviest burdens they began their journey back. 

It had now been five days since the victory against Sauron. Aragorn had been crowned king and all those who had been part of the fellowship had still hung around to recover as much as possible from their journey before the return home. You had awoken to a mass of orcs above you, motionless and cold. Although orc's weren't ever really warm. You began pushing their massive forms off of your self when you felt white hot pain surge through your abdomen. You held your hand to the throbbing wound and moved the last creature from your body and sat up to see no one. 

It all replayed in your head, you had been foolish and unfocused, your brother cried for you and you had been only a fragment of a moment to late to save yourself. Crimson regret poured from your body as you saw your beloved staring your way before it all went black. now here you stood in the resting ground of the battle with not even a stead to help you get home. 

But nothing was going to stop you from returning to Minas Tirith to make sure your king was alive. 

-three suns pass-

Legolas stood at the railing of the largest balcony of the palace, looking down at the people. Due to his excellent hearing he heard Aragorn’s near silent steps approach. "What am I to tell my father? My sweet gwathel..." Aragorn swallowed thickly and looked out to the people and sighed as he leaned against the railing with Legolas. They both sighed deeply and sat in a silent understanding. Legolas felt a bit of resentment towards Aragorn as it was he who had driven you to going to war in the first place because you loved him. Not only that but Aragorn seemed to welcome Arwen back with no hesitation, as if you hadn't existed and been there for all that time.

Legolas turned and grasped Aragorns shoulder with a grip that was nearly too tight before nodding his head and stalking off. After a few moments Aragorn returned inside and went about his day. 

---

You had stumbled into the kingdom and many eyes were upon you. Whispers of the elvish princess were hear all around you. You had been stopped by a guard and the had called for help, thus another guard on a white stallion arrived and took you to the palace. After a short period you had arrived, still battered and bloody but with an iron clad purpose. You trudged your tired body into the palace and inquired the kings whereabouts tot he very cautious maids. They pointed you to the outer garden that branches off from the throne room. Although the maids tried to stop you in hopes of healing you you kept on and made it to the garden. You heard muffled speaking, his familiar voice reaching your ears like music. It felt as though it was the first ray of sun after an unforgiving winter. 

You rounded the vine wrapped archway and saw him you were both relieved and in pain at the sight before you. His arms were wrapped securely around Arwen’s waist and shoulders, his nose buried in her hair and her hands clinging to his shoulders. You felt flames of betrayal fill your heart and bile creeping up your throat. You had fallen back onto the archway and they both jumped and looked to the source. They both had shock filled gazes and Aragorn saw the pain that swarmed your glossy eyes. He stood and began approaching, but your exhaustion and pain finally caught up to you and your body gave out and you began falling but just in the nick of time your brother had caught you as you fell unconscious. 

"Legolas- H-how? Is she? how did she?" Legolas picked you up and shook his head "I don't know, all i heard was the maids speaking about a wounded elf nearly crawling through the castle...i just knew it was her..." before Aragorn could speak Legolas had carried you off to get you healed up. Arwen stood and walked to stand beside Aragorn who turned to meet her gaze, both feeling the guilt mirror off one another.

Legolas rushed to his room and laid you gently upon the silken sheets while the maids began tending to your wounds. His heart stung, he felt as though he had failed you are a brother. He moved to sit by the window and watched over you as the maids had left you to rest, finally agony slipped from your brows and you slept with comfort. He knew you saw your beloved with another and just as you were, he was unsure of their relation. That was no longer his concern, all he wanted was for you to wake up and be well. --- You slowly began to stir and awoke from your dreamless slumber, you were no longer in your tunic and leggings but in an emerald gown. You stood with slight soreness and looked around, your gaze stopping at the window where the moon caught the sleeping form of your brother. You smiled with fondness at him, the smile soon left your lips as a recollection of the events you had endured. You escaped your chambers soundlessly and walked down the pristine corridors enjoying the silence and the moons rays and they bleed in through the gaps in the velvet curtains. 

You made your way out of the palace and into the courtyard with the white tree stood in the center. You wandered over to the tree letting your eyes capture the beauty of its blossoms before walking over to the stone railing. The moon was waning, you must have slept for at least four days you thought to yourself. Your hands gripped onto the cool stone as your eyes raked through his kingdom. You wanted to be angry with him, you wanted this betrayal to make you furious but you loved him. You wanted to hate him but you simply couldn't, it hurt more to hate him.

 A deep sigh passed through your lips as you closed your eyes letting the breeze dance through your (h/c) locks. "A'Melamin, how i longed for you. To see your face..." you spoke out, letting the moon hear your pain. "I want only for your happiness...Melamin amin panya lle leitha" you looked up to the moon, her light reflecting off of your tears like starlight. 

Unbeknownst to you the king stood only a few steps behind you. You looked like a goddess, the emerald gown blowing slightly in the wind whilst your hair danced in the breeze. You were the princess of Mirkwood after all beauty was something none could deny you. His chest squeezed in pain at the weakness in your voice and that you felt this way. He needed to fix this, he needed to take away the hurt in your voice and clear up the thoughts in your head. 

He took a step forward making sure you could hear him this time and your body snapped to face him "Y/n don't speak like that." Shock was etched into your features as you saw the familiar grayish orbs. You quickly settled your self and bowed slightly "Amin heru..." he shook his head "Do not bow to me Y/n, please." He stepped closer, longing to hold you. 

His face turned to one of surprise to see you take a step back as he neared you. "Y/n, what you saw in the garden-" "I understand M'lord. I apologize for interrupting such an intimate moment" you voice was lightly laced with venom. "I shall be gone by dawn, my brother and I shall return to Mirkwood." you murmured with a bow and excused yourself. 

As you brushed past him his hand came to grip your wrist turning you to face him, your chest nearly pressed to his. "ie' least let amin explain n'ala lle karna such y' decree.  Iluve lle elee nae y' misunderstandien" you looked to your feet and sighed "sut ume amin il- rangwa mani amin elee? amin went oht- ten' lle ar' i' moment lle nowe amin nae ba lle rime right n'alaquel e'a he` ranqui's " you said in a quiet voice and you finally looked up to meet his gaze. "'Tis alright Aragorn, I forgive you. I understand you took comfort in me being around because you missed her. And i was the only she-elf around." he nearly growled at your words.  

"Meleth, Arwen and the other elves returned from the undying lands once the word of our victory got to them. All of the elves came for the coronation, Arwen had been comforting me and I her. We both grieved for you Y/n...We thought you had left this world. We had no intention of becoming lovers again, simply comrades in grief." he finished speaking and your gaze never left his. Your eyes searched his for any inkling of dishonestly but to no avail. Tears began to trail down your cheeks, reflecting the moonlight once again. Aragorn gently cupped your cheek and wiped away the falling stars. "Gi Melin...I could never love again had i lost you." He smiled softly and leaned down slightly to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. Through his kiss he made you feel how much he loved and missed you, he had pulled you completely against his chest needing you as close as possible. 

You both embraced unaware of the elves that stood not to far off with grins on their faces, both relieved to have you back and for your reunion with the king. Once his lips left your he placed his forehead to yours just like how he had during the battle of Mordor. "You have been with me through all hardships Y/n...Please rule beside me, i have no reason to have come this far and be a king if i don't have you beside me." your face became sore with a smile. "Nothing would make me happier than to stand beside you forever, Aragorn." within a moment he had lifted you by your waist and spun you around you both had glee painted onto your faces. 

You both sat beneath the white tree and watch the sun rise on the new day, the day when the queen returned.

------

Translations:

Gi Melin- I love you

Gwathel- sister

A'maelamin - My beloved

Meleth - Love

Melamin. Amin panya lle leitha - My love i set you free

ie' least let amin explain n'ala lle karna such y' decree.  Iluve lle elee nae y' misunderstandien - At least let me explain before you make such a decree. Everything you saw was a misunderstanding 

sut ume amin il- rangwa mani amin elee? amin went oht- ten' lle ar' i' moment lle nowe amin nae ba lle rime right n'alaquel e'a he` ranqui's - How did i not understand what i saw? I went to war for you and the moment you thought i was dead you ran right back into her arm's.  

Hope you guys enjoy! I really wanted to write for LOTR and i plan on doing some more! <3 

-jewel

[that-rogue-valar]

Light of My World

Pairings: Mairon (Sauron) x Leithrien (Hirilgwathren)

Warnings: Child-birth, some language (I think), battle and mentions of blood and wounds 

A/N: This is published on my Quotev, bitochaos. Enjoy! 

 "Sauron, please!" I cried, holding on to the fabric of his robes as tears cascaded down my cheeks. "Don't go, just let the army go and fight." 

My husband cupped my face and connected his lips to my forehead for a split second. He leaned his forehead against mine.  "Why do you want me to stay so badly, Hiril?" Sauron asked, his voice lowered to a whisper. 

I dared not to let go of his robes, so I kept the fabric wrapped tightly in my fists. I couldn't bear the thought of him going to battle and getting injured or his physical body dying away because of it. 

He seemed to take notice of the anxiety that began to boil in my lungs. "What is it, Hirilgwathren?" 

"Sauron...I am..." I trailed off, staring into his golden orbs. "Sauron, I am with child. Please, do not be angry--" 

Sauron cut me off and captured my lips with his own, quick and chaste, yet just long enough to shut me up. I laced my fingers in his ginger hair and whimpered. He pulled away, then leaned his forehead against mine again. 

"I am not angry, Hiril," he whispered. "Thank you, my dove." 

"You are staying, no?" I questioned. "Please, stay with us." 

He shook his head and held me flush against him. I didn't bother moving, didn't bother messing up what was going on. Instead, I remained silent as my hot tears streamed down my face in utter sorrow. Sauron placed his large hand on the back of my head and gently massaged his fingers against my skull. The other wandered down to my hips and rubbed my abdomen with his thumbs. That was all it took before my tears became heavy sobs. 

"You mustn't go," I croaked. "You mustn't go."

"I know, darling," Sauron said. "I promise, it will be no more than a month. I will return to you, Hirilgwathren." 

He lowered himself down to his knees and pressed a kiss to my stomach. I felt myself crumbling slowly as he whispered his goodbyes and promises of his return to our unborn child. I brought his face up to mine and gave him one last kiss before he walked out of the doors of Barad-dur. 

By the time my husband returned, it had been several months since he left. I sent messengers frequently to relay my letters to Sauron over the course of the war and sketches of everyday life in the palace. My swollen abdomen restricted me from my daily activities and I voiced my frustration to Sauron through my letters. 

"Lady Hirilgwathren?" One of the servants asked after she knocked on the door to my chambers. "You have been summoned." 

"By whom?" 

"He requested that his identity be hidden for the romance of it." 

I made my way down to the front gates, slowly but surely. My child restricted such hasty movements and I hadn't been able to move much faster than a waddle for the past two months.

I knew immediately who summoned me when I saw a speckle of ginger hair against black armor. My breath hitched in my lungs and tried my best to run to him. Sauron looked as if he were about to panic at the sight of his heavily pregnant wife, half waddling, half running towards him.

"Sauron!" I squealed, throwing my arms around his neck. "You're home!" 

He nodded, kissing my lips with slow and raw passion. I felt tears, this time out of pure joy, creep down my face. Sauron pulled away and wiped my tears from my face. 

Without thinking, he knelt in front of me like he did whenever he went to battle, his heavy body sinking slightly in the sands of Mordor. He placed his hands on either side of my belly and smiled.

"Hello, little one," he said, his lips pressed against my stomach as he spoke to our child. "I am your Ada. I know you haven't heard my voice for several months, little one, and I know your Mamil has taken great care of you in there." 

"This is the first time your child has stopped kicking me for months." I chuckled, brushing his long locks out of his eyes with my fingers. 

Sauron peered up at me as he felt his child kick against his large hands. A smile crept across his face and sheer terror ripped across mine. As soon as he saw what was going on-- either by the large puddle forming on the ground or by the look on my face-- he plucked himself from the ground and scooped me into his arms. 

"Sauron! I can walk!" I shouted, struggling to squirm out of his grip. I just accepted it.

One of the servant girls met us at the door and saw immediately that I was in labor. She went to go fetch the other servant girls to assist me during the birth of our child. 

I cried out in pain for ten long, wretched hours. My child was slowly tearing my body piece by piece. Sauron stayed beside me the entire night, offering me water or brushing the hair out of my eyes. One of the servants announced that she could see the baby's head. 

"Red hair!" One of them squealed, clapping her hands. "They've got red hair!" 

Sauron smirked beside me and I punched him in the chest. I did my best to push until the pressure was gone and my child's wails filled the air. 

"Congratulations, sir. Congratulations, miss," the girl cradling my child's body said. "Beautiful boy, miss." 

Sauron kissed my temple and whispered his thanks into my ear. "You did so well, my dove," he muttered. "So well." 

We discussed several names-- Sauron's suggestion was Melkor, of course-- before I came up with Caldir. As much as my husband hated me naming our son in my native tongue, he agreed that Caldir was going to be our son's name. 

"Caldir, hmm?" Sauron cooed, lifting our child out of my arms and into his. Caldir wiggled himself into a more comfortable position in his Ada's arms. "You are to treat your mother well and respect her," my husband whispered to our newborn son. "All others, just forget it. Just treat Ada and Mamil like we treat you, little one." 

I chuckled and leaned my head on Sauron's broad shoulder, watching as my ginger child slept peacefully in his father's arms. My husband rocked a slow pace as he held Caldir, his eyes not leaving his son a single time. I could've sworn I saw tears forming in his eyes and I nearly killed over at the sight of Sauron crying. 

"Are you crying, my love?" I questioned, shifting my body to get a better look at his face. Sauron shook his head and tried to look away from me. "It is alright, Sauron. You do not have to be embarrassed. We made this being together, it is special." 

A deep laugh boomed from my husband's chest and Caldir stirred, eventually opening his eyes. "He's...he's got your ears and your eyes," Sauron observed. "Those Eru-damned ears of yours." 

"But we are the fairest of the Children," I prodded my finger into his chest. "The Maiar aren't." 

Sauron rolled his eyes. "Sure, my dove, keep telling yourself that." 

Five years later...

"Do not teach our sons Black Speech!" I shouted, Sauron, Caldir and our youngest son, Isilme, whipping their heads around at the sound of my voice. Both of them looked as if they could faint. 

Sauron crossed his arms over his chest. "Why not? He will have to communicate with the armies somehow," my husband protested. "Besides, your Quenya and your traditions are pointless." 

I stepped over to my five-year-old son and placed my hands on his little shoulders. "Caldir, Isilme," I began. "Why don't you two go and get ready for dinner." 

The boys both nodded and took off towards their chambers, leaving me with his father. Sauron smirked at me as soon as the door clicked shut. 

"I ought to smack you upside your stupid head," I hissed. "You cannot tell Caldir and Isilme that my heritage is stupid!" 

Sauron shrugged and held out his hand to me. Even though I was angry with him, I put my hand in his and tried to keep a straight face. It didn't work. I found myself kneeling in his lap, eyes locked with his. Sauron held my hands against his chest. 

"You know I love you, Hiril," Sauron muttered. "But we both know why I despise it so much." 

I nodded. "But the boys should know that they are half-elven." 

"Why? You do not have to tell them your parentage--" 

"Sauron!" I shouted, shooting the most sinister glare I could muster. Sauron looked half-taken back and actually looked shocked that I yelled at him like that. I lowered my voice before I continued. "Those are my children too." 

My husband brought a hand up to cup the side of my face, golden eyes watching for some sort of disapproval in mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in the crook of it. He shivered when he felt my tears and he seemed to know that he did something wrong. 

"Are you alright, Hiril?" Sauron's deep voice was barely audible. 

I shook my head. "I used to be known only as Leithrien, the youngest daughter of Finarfin and Earwen. Now I am known as the Betrayer, the wife of Evil," I choked out. "My kin refuse to love me like they once did. I am no longer Leithrien and it hurts, Sauron. It hurts so badly." 

Sauron laced his fingers in my golden hair. I whimpered at his touch and let my sobs go. The hurt that was built up over a millennia was being released. I wept for the life that I could have had if I hadn't rebelled and married Sauron. I wept for the life my children could have had if it weren't for my decisions. I wept for my kin that I had lost from my rebellion. 

But I wouldn't trade the years I have spent in Barad-dur and Angband for anything. I wouldn't trade my husband or my children for the life I could have had. They were the light of my world. My sun and my moon. What my sons were named for. 

My husband's voice shushed me. "I know, my dove," Sauron whispered. "Sometimes I too wonder what could have been if I hadn't made the decisions that I have made."

"I wish the Valar would give us a second chance, for the children," I muttered. I felt his head bob in agreement. 

Caldir and Isilme deserved to see the light in the world and not the dark. They deserved so much better. 

"I will have a messenger sent tomorrow," Sauron told me. "Just stop crying, would you?" 

I gave him a quick kiss and dried the wetness that was left behind by my sorrow with the sleeve of my gown. I thanked him over and over again until he told me to shut my blabbering up. My sorrow was replaced by excitement and anxieties. What if the Valar will not forgive us? What if our entire family is sent into the shadow with Melkor? 

Into the Third Age and the Destruction of the Ring...

The sight of him was pitiful. I held him in my arms, trying to help him in any way I could. He writhed and cried out in pain as the Ring was being destroyed. He was dying. Our sons stood, watching in complete horror as their immortal and seemingly invincible father died before them. 

"Sauron, please!" I begged, brushing the bright red hair out of his face. "Please, don't leave me. Stay, stay." 

"I never told you." Sauron choked. "I never told you what the messenger said." 

I shook my head, hot tears brimming my eyelids. "Don't."

"Your sister wants you to depart to Aman with her," my husband muttered. "Take Caldir and Isilme. I will be put on trial when I go to Aman. Leave me and make your journey to the Blessed Realm. I will be there whenever you reach the shores." 

I couldn't. Caldir and Isilme tried pulling me away, but I remained still. I held my iron grip on Sauron's red robes and refused to move from him. I could feel his flesh dying. He wasn't warm any longer. He was gone. 

My world went dark and my cries echoed in the halls of Barad-dur. The hands of my sons clasped on my shoulders as they knelt down beside me. 

"Mamil," Caldir said. "Ada would want us to go. You know that. He told us to depart and see your sister." 

They had to drag me away from my husband's lifeless body. He would be restored in Valinor if the Valar granted him a second chance. I just had to have that hope in my heart. I could not find it. 

We reached the Grey Havens after our long journey. My sister waited there, accompanied by a group of Elves that I assumed to be her children and grandchildren. I learned later that the one elleth was, in fact, her granddaughter and she was married to a marchwarden. They had a child together. Galadriel gave me a gentle smile, something that I craved so long to see from my kin. 

"It has been long since I have seen you, Leithrien," Galadriel said, her voice soft and kind. 

"It has been too long," I told her. "I missed too much. I missed my family." 

Galadriel dipped her head in an understanding manner. "I am assuming these two to be your sons." 

I nodded my head. "Yes," I began. "Caldir is the eldest of the two and looks the most like his father. Isilme is the youngest." 

Caldir and Isilme gave the Elvish greeting I worked so hard to implement in their lives. Sauron didn't appreciate it. 

"And your husband? Where is he?" Galadriel questioned. 

I felt my breathing hitch. He was gone. He was in Aman by now, his trial was probably over and he either was sent with his old master or granted a second chance. Caldir snapped me out of my thoughts by placing his slender hand on my shoulder. 

"When the Halflings destroyed the Ring, he died away in this world," I explained. "He is waiting for me in Valinor." 

We boarded the ship and sailed until we saw the shores of Aman. Long had it been since I last saw the shores of the Blessed Realm. My heart longed to see my home again. 

My sons were in awe as we set foot upon the shore. I remembered the sands, the trees, the warmth of the sun. The sweet smell of the fauna of Yavanna and the salty aroma of the seas of Ulmo filled my nostrils as the memories of my homeland swelled in my heart. 

I was home. 

A familiar figure stood tall at the end of the wooden dock. The joy in my heart was overflowing after the figure turned around. 

He waited for me. 

"Mairon!" I shouted, forgetting to be a proper Elvish lady. "Mairon!" 

I ran towards him, my gown gathered in my fists to keep myself from tripping on the fabric. He ran towards me until we met in the middle, his strong arms wrapping around my waist and plucking me off the ground. I wasted no time waiting for him to kiss me. I collided my lips against his and time seemed to stop. 

"You waited for me," I breathed out once we pulled away. "You waited." 

He chuckled, nodding his head. "Yeah, I did. It got boring."

I rolled my eyes at his faked annoyed tone. I laced my fingers in his familiar ginger hair and studied his brilliant golden eyes that I knew so well. They were different. They were happy and innocent. They were Mairon's eyes and not Sauron's.

Our sons came clambering off the boat, their arms open wide as they ran towards us. Mairon put me down and the boys wrapped me and their father in a bone-crushing hug. I squirmed, trying to see over the top of their arms, but I was too short compared to the Maia and our Half-Maiar children. 

We journeyed to Tirion, my birthplace, and there they stood. My Mamil and Ada awaited on the balcony of their bedroom. I lifted my hand and waved, shouting to my parents. 

Mamil placed her hand over her mouth and Ada ran into the house, coming down the stairs to greet me. Mamil followed not too long after. 

"Ada! Mamil!" I whispered, gathered in their sweet embraces. "I am home, Mamil. I am home, Ada." 

My parents pulled away after what seemed like an eternity. Ada studied Mairon through judging eyes. 

"Are these two yours?" Mamil gestured to Caldir and Isilme. 

"Those two are Caldir and Isilme," I said with a nod and grabbed hold of Mairon's arm, pulling his body towards me. "And this is my husband, Mairon. We have been married since I left Aman." 

"You left Aman because you married Sauron, Leithrien," Mamil observed. "Not this Mairon." 

"Yes," I admitted. "But this is him. Was him." 

Mamil eyed Mairon with the same judging glare that Ada gave him. They welcomed him nonetheless but kept an ever watchful eye on him. 

 * * * 

"This is the last one, Mairon!" I grunted, laying my hand on my swollen abdomen. I swore back in Barad-dur whenever Isilme was born that he would be my last child but my husband, however, couldn't keep it in his pants. We had six more after Isilme. 

Mairon smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sure, sweetheart." 

"My sister had one daughter, one of my brothers only had two children and here I am with seven and one more on the way," I grumbled. "No. More." 

Our final son was born not too long after our conversation. Mamil, Ada and my siblings had gotten used to the routine of having a baby in the family frequently and asked when the next was going to be born. Mairon said soon and I said never. 

Mairon and I made enough children to fill the House of Finwe with constant noise and annoyance. Mamil and Ada insisted on paying for us to have our own home built not too far from theirs. 

Our children grew to be well-known smithies, generals, and architects in Aman. We were proud and soon we had our own grandchildren to chase after. 

Sometimes, we all get happy endings in the end.

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Trees- Willow Rosenberg

Pairing: Willow Rosenberg x Reader

Characters: Willow Rosenberg

Warnings: N/A

Request: N/A

Word Count: 447

Author: Aaron

“So, this place is pretty special to you huh?” Willow tenderly gripped onto your fingertips, leading you through the lofty, elder trees with trunks that burst through the heavens, splitting the clouds in two. Occasionally she would look back at you and her grip would tighten ever so slightly before her eyes returned forward, she walked in awe at the surrounding natural beauty.

“Yeah.” She shrugged and made her way through a thick gathering of serpentine roots and thick, blossoming bushes. “My mom wasn’t so great so sometimes I just needed a place to escape.” She seemed to know her way through like she had done it a million times before, each step more confident than the last. “With the scooby gang stuff going on I haven’t had much time to visit.”

She broke through the bush, careful not to damage anything and almost fell into a empty clearing surrounded only by the towering trees, a firepit in the centre framed the long-charred wood which was somehow untouched by both nature and man.

“Let me guess.” You broke away from Willow’s grasp to stroll around the make-shift camp. “Nobody else knows this place exists?”

“I hope not.” She slid a small satchel off her shoulder and sat it next to the dormant flame, with great care and love she moved each of the logs from the ground and moved it out of the clearing, replacing them with fresh wood ready to be lit ablaze.

From out of the satchel she removed some of the tools of her witchcraft trade; bundles of herbs, candles of a myriad of shapes and sizes and beautiful prismatic crystals.

“As a kid I always thought this place held a certain… mysticism. Now I see why.” She waved her arms and chanted ancient incantations, the logs slowly started to glow a vibrant orange before igniting an elegant, dancing flame along with each of the candles which had been placed in an eccentric pattern along the floor. “All of my magic seems so amplified here.” She ran the herbs along the top of the flame, just low enough for the spluttering tendrils to tickle the leaves, aromatic smoke slowly began to creep through the air of the clearing.

“Be careful you don’t summon some crazy, world eating dragon or something.” You both laughed as Willow continued to wave the bundle around herself and around you, explaining that although untainted the air needed cleansing before any real magic could take place.

“Come on be serious. If this place works how I think it does, it could be a serious weapon in the war on the undead. Dragons though, what do you think this is… Mordor?”

[takerfoxx]

Anyway, while I’m loopy on Dayquil, here’s some brain diarrhea. 

Lately I’ve been replaying Shadow of Mordor/Shadow of War, and while running around Cirith Ungol in the latter I got this idea.

...

Okay, I pretty much entirely ripped it off from Cirith Ungol, but bear with me here.

Imagine this huge network of caves. Enormous caverns, huge tunnels, all of them connected, and it’s incredibly densely populated. You’ve got archaeologists digging up the remains of an extinct civilization, miners searching for ore veins, explorers, and they’ve got pretty much a small city down there. Every cavern is filled with makeshift buildings, from barracks to supply stashes to storehouses to entertainment centers to small businesses to pretty much anything you can think of. Everything is lit by torches, there are huge bonfires burning everywhere, and there’s always someone within whispering distance.

And yet, despite how many people are down there, despite all those sources of light, there is something that is...

...not...

...quite...

...right.

The fires always seem weak and strained, the shadows altogether too long. Sound has an unnatural echo to it, even in places where it ought not to. And there is a feeling of creeping dread that hangs over the whole place, a gnawing anxiety that seeps into your bones. It’s like you’re being watched at all times, and the second you’re out of sight of anyone, you’ll find yourself all alone, while something stalks you in the shadows. People tell stories of gibbering whispers in the darker areas, of seeing things suddenly dart off in their peripheral vision, but when they look, nothing is there.

Even with all the lights strung up, even with all the people milling about, traveling from one cavern to the next is always nerve-wracking. Nobody dares leave the safety of the larger outposts alone, everyone always makes sure that and while being in the more heavily populated areas and/or inside one of the buildings helps, no one can ever shake the feeling that there is something out there in the dark, something that doesn’t want them there.

Because there is.

People disappear daily, and in large numbers. Those working on the outskirts keep careful tally of everyone in their groups, and when those groups inevitably start to shrink, no searching parties are sent out. They simply call for more bodies to replace those who were lost, and despite the terror that such assignments bring, they go along with it without complaint. Why resist the inevitable, after all?

Even those who stay at the center of the populations aren’t safe. It’s said that if you stray out of sight of anyone, even for a second, that is when they come for you. As such, all constructions are arranged in a circular format, so that everyone is always within the sight of someone else. Bonfires tend to have other, smaller fires surrounding them, with everyone looking outward so as not to have their backs to the dark. People sleep in groups pressed tightly together, and there is always as many people standing guard as there are sleeping. Holding hands is seen not as an expression of intimacy but rather a normalized survival technique. Even when using the latrines there is always someone there, watching your back.

And yet, even with all those precautions, you just can’t shake the feeling that you’re all by yourself, that the darkness is reaching toward you, that if you close your eyes for too long, you’ll never be able to open them again.

ANYWAY, I have like zero context for any of this, it’s just a premise that’s been knocking around inside my head. Sounds like something I can fit into Subconscious or Resonance Days though, probably the latter.

[entergamingxp]

Star Renegades Offers A Stellar Take On The Indie Rogue-lite Genre

July 22, 2020 9:00 AM EST

Star Renegades is entering the saturated market of pixel-art indie rogue-lites, although its depth and string of interesting systems should be enough to make it strong enough against its competitors.

Pixel art has been undergoing somewhat of a renaissance within the indie scene for the last few years now. Massive Damage, Inc.’s upcoming game Star Renegades is part of this resurgence. It takes its own spin on the artstyle and gears it towards an interesting sci-fi setting, looking very good while doing so.

I had the opportunity to go hands-on with the first couple of missions in Star Renegades and from what I played, it’s an interesting rogue-lite strategy RPG full of varied systems, quirky characters, and slightly inconsistent dialogue.

The early moments of the game set you up for a big revenge story, crossing multiple realities in order to exact vengeance on invading forces. The game quickly, however, seems to forget about the story in favor of witty dialogue exchanges between characters and its interesting gameplay loop, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Strategy games aren’t always known for the best stories, so I’m hoping this continues throughout and is just supplementary to the gameplay.

The core gameplay of Star Renegades is split into two parts, exploring and battling, with each section littered with various systems. You enter your scenario on a randomly generated map that has rebellion forces scattered throughout who are trying to impede you from completing your goal.

The missions I played in this build weren’t particularly creative or different from anything else I’ve played within the strategy genre, but what did differentiate Star Renegades from its counterparts was the battle system.

When you encounter foes, you enter (with quite a long jarring delay at points) what the game calls a “deterministic combat system.” Everything within battle takes place on a timeline displayed at the top of the screen. The timeline is completely transparent, showing you how and when the giant robot enemies plan to attack, allowing you to then strategically plan your turn. Some of your attacks hit harder but will fall further down the timeline leaving you open, while others are quicker but are likely to deal less damage. Sometimes, it’s also just best to not attack at all.

The combat in Star Renegades is extremely tactical and is all about being opportunistic and having a solid but adaptable plan.

The most basic, but effective method I found was simply to attack before the enemies could attack me, which in doing so led to landing critical hits. By attacking first you could also stagger and then break the enemies, with each attack pushing the adversary further down the timeline. This lets you knock them off it and stop them from attacking this turn. The combat in Star Renegades is extremely tactical and is all about being opportunistic and having a solid but adaptable plan.

Like most RPG battles, Star Renegades has strengths, weaknesses, and immunities system incorporated into it. This adds yet another layer of depth to combat. Yes, your light attack will be quicker and allow you to hit first, but it will deal significantly less damage to your enemy and might, therefore, be counterproductive to your overall strategy. Battles also have combo attacks, which are stronger moves that take place between two of your party members whose relationships have been leveled up by the campfire (I’ll touch on this later).

Not only are the battles incredibly deep system-wise, but they also look and sound great too. The attack animations are nice and the sound design is fantastic with each move or enemy death sounding slightly different to the last – it’s really damn cool.

While the battle system is unique (at least as far as any game I’ve played) some of Star Renegades’ other features are borrowed or at least heavily influenced by other games. The opposing rebellion forces have “adversaries” – enemies that are unique and get promoted, evolve, and grow whenever they defeat you. It’s very much like the nemesis system from the Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor/War games. It’s a system which when first released I (as well as many in the industry) thought would become much more commonplace within games. However, this seems like one of the first instances I’ve seen of it outside of its originating series, and most importantly, it has been implemented well.

Depending on what you are tackling you may also have to camp partway through or at the end of a mission. This is a system that, to me at least, feels reminiscent of camping within Darkest Dungeon. This time though you use cards to determine your actions. When you set up camp you have a predetermined amount of action points which allows you to play cards and use up these points to benefit your party. Cards range from healing and armor repairing to relationship building. The relationship-building cards help boost the affinity between two party members which in turn helps improve the aforementioned combos in battle. I’m not sure of the necessity of it being cards rather than character-based skills, but it’s not a huge gripe.

Other influences within the game are slightly more referential but are welcome nonetheless, with small nods to Super Smash Bros. and Star Wars creeping in. Most importantly of all, you can pet the dog in Star Renegades.

There are a couple of further systems in Star Renegades based around leveling up. The main system is simple and sees you earning DNA after every battle and then investing that into leveling up your party members. Secondary to that, when you return to base, you can spend your research points, earned by beating or damaging enemies, on new heroes, upgrades to existing heroes, and perks for your party.

Star Renegades states that there will be 13 different classes at launch. While the game itself is deep and varied, I didn’t particularly see that in the classes I got to use. Visually and personality-wise, each one is unique but I didn’t see a huge difference in play style. I’m willing at this point, based on how many systems this game has, to chalk it up to the fact my party members were all level one and at the beginning of the game, and the more they level up the more they’ll evolve and differentiate themselves. The differing personalities added some light relief and fun dialogue in what is otherwise a thematically dark game, although, at times, the conversations could feel quite contrived.

Overall, what I got to play of Star Renegades showed a deep and complex strategy RPG with some genuinely interesting gameplay systems integrated throughout. The systems and gameplay loop should be strong enough to support what I feel is, at least at this early stage, a slightly lukewarm and unoriginal story. The two missions I played have done more than enough to intrigue me and have definitely made me want to see how the game evolves before it comes out on PC and consoles later this year. It’s certainly one to keep an eye out for.

July 22, 2020 9:00 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/07/star-renegades-offers-a-stellar-take-on-the-indie-rogue-lite-genre/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=star-renegades-offers-a-stellar-take-on-the-indie-rogue-lite-genre

[garden-ghoul]

fellowship of the bloggening part 2

“I am out of my mind impatient to get to rohan and it’s probably going to take MONTHS I hate this”

Chapter THREE IS COMPANY

Frodo has been dragging his feet, but what’s a couple months after seventeen years? He’s trying to figure out how to leave non-suspiciously, how to not leave at all, where to go, he is all over the place. He’s REALLY excited to go to Rivendell. So he buys a house in Buckland and sells Bag End to the Sackville-Bagginses (ugh!). Everyone thinks he’s downgrading to save money, even Merry, who helped him buy the new house. I think it’s very sweet that in his internal monologue he considers Merry & Pippin & co “his young friends.” Because honestly they are probably about half his age.

‘Whatever happens to the rest of my stuff, when the S.-B.s get their claws on it, at any rate I have found a good home for this!’ said Frodo, as he drained his glass. It was the last drop of Old Winyards. ...

‘Our last meal at Bag End!’ said Frodo, pushing back his chair. They left the washing up for Lobelia.

Sorry I love Frodo being petty to the Sackville-Bagginses (ugh!). So Frodo, Sam, and Pippin set out at sunset, because they like walking in the dark. Cute? As they leave they hear Some Creep asking where Frodo has gone. Secretly a Nazgul, I’m sure. They sleep under a tree and immediately upon waking Pippin starts loudly telling Sam to get water ready for a bath?? Okay is he just your servant, Mr Took? Don’t be an asshole. Anyway the next day the Nazgul passes them on the road; everyone is stirred up. Here we get a lot of loving description of the English Shire countryside and a travelling song Bilbo made up. It’s the one Pippin sings for Denethor in the movies, but it’s rather less serious, I think, than they made it seem by picking the most serious bits.

Then world behind and home ahead, We’ll wander back to home and bed. Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, Away shall fade! Away shall fade! Fire and lamp, and meat and bread, And then to bed! And then to bed!

ALSO he always pluralizes hoof as hoofs, not hooves. argh. So the Nazgul comes back, but is almost immediately chased away by a bunch of elves singing about Elbereth Gilthoniel (presumably it is Song, in the magic sense, because the hobbits can all understand them; I think it’s funny that they’re using Song to amuse themselves while travelling). From this Frodo concludes that they are high elves... but isn’t that Eldar? Elbereth is her Sindarin name, and like... literally all the elves speak Sindarin now...

In any case, he happens to be right, because the leader of the elves is Gildor ben Finrod (hahaha that naming convention sounds dumb with elf names). I didn’t even know Finrod had kids... as I recall his heir was his nephew, Orodreth. Yes I’m just here to pick apart continuity snarls that Tolkien didn’t manage to fix. ANYWAY the elves are kind of jerks, they think hobbits are too dull to associate with... until Pippin asks them who the black riders are, at which point they get scared and invite our heroes to stay the night with them. Only after the hobbits have started to fall asleep do the elves eat. Frodo tries to soak up as much Sindarin as possible (the elves think he’s adorably precocious, I don’t like them); Sam afterward remembers it as “one of the chief events of his life,” despite the fact that he is going to save the world later. Sorry what

A SHORTCUT TO MUSHROOMS

The perfect title for a chapter that starts right after Gildor gives Frodo some truly scary and cryptic warnings!

‘Did you ask about the sniffing?’ said Pippin.

‘We didn’t discuss it,’ said Frodo with his mouth full.

‘You should have. I am sure it is very important.’

‘In that case I am sure Gildor would have refused to explain it,’ said Frodo sharply.

Good old Gildor! I think Pippin’s right, though. Probably the fact that Nazgul can smell the Ring bodes p ill. We also get a bit of a glimpse at why the elf party is one of the main events in Sam’s life; it has totally changed his views on elves, and on the world, in a way he can’t quite put into words yet. It’s so jarring, the way Tolkien treats Sam like a dog one moment and the next “It did not sound like the voice of the old Sam Gamgee that he thought he knew. But it looked like the old Sam Gamgee sitting there, except that his face was unusually thoughtful.” Make up your mind, Johnald. Are servants people, or not?

Our heroes decide (after much arguing) to go overland to Bucklebury rather than by the road, to be harder for the Nazgul to find. Amusingly, one finds them almost immediately but is, I guess, unwilling to get off its horse to follow them down the bank. Maybe the horses evaporate if you get off them, it would be so inconvenient. He’d have to call Mordor for another one, and Sauron gets so mad if you ask him for a new horse.

Our heroes have a talk and some dinner with Pippin’s old friend, Mr Maggot, who unintentionally terrorized Frodo as a lad for stealing his mushrooms. It turns out the Nazgul have been asking around here, too, but Maggot saw them off. He graciously drives our heroes to the ferry, where they find Merry waiting for them, and gives them a parting gift, a large basket of mushrooms. And so the shortcut to mushrooms was being polite and friendly! A shame they cut that from the movie, it’s a nice morel.

A CONSPIRACY UNMASKED

Our heroes make it to Frodo’s house at Crickhollow, where Merry and their other friend Fredegar ‘Fatty’ Bolger have drawn three baths! And they have dinner, including the enormous amount of mushrooms they received as a gift. As an aside, Tolkien notes that hobbits love mushrooms more than anything else. Puts me in mind of badgers or pigs or some other woodland creature that loves to snuffle.

Merry reveals the fact that they all knew all along that Frodo was leaving the Shire, because he’s really not a very good actor. Unexpectedly, they all want to come with! Well, they are young, and they seem to thirst for adventure. Unlike Frodo, who is terrified, they seem to think it’s pretty fun. And yet...

‘But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,’ said Frodo. Sam looked at him unhappily. 

‘It all depends on what you want,’ put in Merry. ‘You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours - closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo.’

Aww.

So they plan to be away into the Old Forest by first light. Fredegar is afraid, but Merry assures him it’s pretty safe during the day “when the trees are sleepy and fairly quiet.” Woo! Ominous! Are there ents in the Shire? Fredegar promises to wait for Gandalf, while our heroes go into

THE OLD FOREST

I wasn’t gonna do another chapter but this transition was too good to pass up. Merry tells our heroes a little of the history of the Old Forest: at one point it tried to attack the Hedge that marks the border of the Shire, but hobbits made war on it and cut down and burned a great many trees. Since then it has been even less friendly, but during daylight Brandybucks, at least, are pretty safe there. Frodo tries to sing a song, and the forest gets mad at him. Merry is apparently still cheerful, or a good actor.

They gradually realize that the forest is shunting them toward the Withywindle, the “center of all queerness.” Every time they try to veer north toward the road, they encounter great difficulty. Eventually they are forced to go right down into the river valley and walk along the river. But they begin to get very sleepy. I LOVE how Faerie this is. Sam is the only one who realizes something fishy is up, and has to rescue Frodo from being drowned by the tree. They realize it’s eating Merry and Pippin, and when they try to scare it by lighting a fire it threatens to kill them. Hostages! Frodo runs along the path, crying for help, and hears my favorite song in the entire entire:

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo! Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

Sorry these are just such merry sounds, I love them. I’ve heard some very strange things about Tom Bombadil, though. He sings to the willow tree and it releases Merry and Pippin, and then offers to let them eat at his house as thanks. Y’ALL DON’T DO IT. NOTHING GOOD COMES OF EATING FAERIE FOOD.