#mordor-valley

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

"They had come to the desolation that lay before Mordor: the lasting monument to the dark labour of its slaves that should endure when all their purposes were made void; a land defiled, diseased beyond all healing; unless the Great Sea should enter in and wash it with oblivion." - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers, "The Passage of the Marshes"

@tolkienhorrorweek day 3 ⇢ mordor + "the pitiless land" || GEOGRAPHY OF MORDOR

[ID: an edit comprised of seven banners in muted natural tones.

1: A lake surrounded by mountains overhung with mist and trees giving way to gravel banks. White gothic-style text in the center reads "Lake Núrnen," and below that in a thin sans serif, "the lake of sad waters" / 2: A valley between dark mountains, with a dirt path leading through it. Text reads "Udûn" and "the dark valley" / 3: A rocky plain leading towards distant mountains that fade into a dark, smoggy sky. Text reads "Gorgoroth" and "the plain of deadly fear" / 4: An erupting volcano in the dark. Text reads "Orodruin" and "the burning mountain" / 5: Sharp mountain ridges with snow along the lower slopes beneath a cloudy sky. Text reads "Ered Lithui" and "the ashen mountains" / 6: Bare rock mountains beneath clouds. Text reads "Ephel Dúath" and "the mountains of shadow" / 7: Pale rock formations on an arid plain, with slopes rising in the distance. Text reads "Lithlad" and "the plain of ashes" //End ID]

[tenth-sentence]

There above the valley of Gorgoroth was built his fortress vast and strong, Barad-dûr, the Dark Tower; and there was a fiery mountain in that land the Elves named Orodruin.

"The Silmarillion" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[givemeallyourpenny]

Apparently there’s a maximum tag limit

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 4k (each individual around 230~ words) | Read on Ao3

TWS : Drinking, implied arranged marriage that doesn't happen & isn't between reader and Faramir (Faramir), nothing else

« 1, 2, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ As one of the Dúnedain rangers who looked after the Shire, you had instantly gone to Frodo's side once Gandalf showed up. Although you didn't know the full details of the plan (they hadn't yet trusted you with the secrets of the ring) you agreed to escort them to Bree so they could meet with Gandalf there.

✧ Aragorn noticed you first when you entered The Prancing Pony, carefully herding the hobbits in and making sure that they didn't run off, or get into trouble.

✧ When you look around to try and spot Gandalf he begins to slip into the shadows out of habit, but stops himself and stays easily seen. Aragorn doesn’t know why he lets you see him, but the tension even slightly leaving your eyes seems to make it worth it. Even in the light, you both recognise each other as Dúnedain. 

✧ After Aragorn takes Frodo to a separate room, he barely has time to begin his greetings before you swing open the door with the other hobbits and a sword to his neck demanding you release him.

✧ Normally he’d be intimidated, perhaps on guard with you, but even with a sword to his neck the first feeling he gets is admiration - it’s rare to catch him off guard like you have.

✧ The two of you work well together, even though you're slightly suspicious of him, and when Frodo decides to place his trust in the ranger you give it to him as well.

✧ While setting up the fake hobbits together there's some debate over who will keep watch and eventually both of you stay up together (sitting in a comfortable silence).

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Even if Denethor hadn’t approved of Faramir going to Rivendell, he did allow you to accompany Boromir to the valley. (You had gone because Faramir asked you, saying your job - a ranger who often scouted Mordor - would be valuable, even if he didn’t know why).

✧ When you had finally arrived in Rivendell you didn’t immediately admire the scenery, instead focusing on finally being (truly) clean after over a hundred days of travel.

✧ Once you were happy with yourself you thought it only right to look at the beauty of Rivendell, wandering aimlessly.

✧ It was then, after taking the same turn for the third time, that an elf suddenly appeared with a pitying look and asked if you had ever been to Rivendell before.

✧ Legolas is delighted when you take him up on his offer to show you around (Mirkwood is not exactly the best place to roam) and takes great pleasure in showing you different places.

✧ At almost every turn he asks you which places you’d prefer to see, taking you on a rather haphazard tour (although he doesn’t seem phased by it).

✧ He doesn’t recognise your Gondorian accent at first, but once he does he’s eager to ask more about it and your opinions.

✧ Eventually, as the stars and moon begin to light your walk, you apologise and explain you must be up early in the morning for an important meeting.

✧ Realising you’ll also be at the Council of Elrond, Legolas wishes you a good night’s rest and that he will see you soon.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Gandalf, over the years, employed many people to subtly watch over the Shire - and you were one of them.

✧ Traditionally based in Bree, you had been honoured to be chosen by the grey wizard and kept a close eye on the Baggins family.

✧ Eventually, after being slightly careless the day before, Bilbo manages to find and confront you about your intentions (albeit aided by the one ring).

✧ After learning you're a friend of Gandalf, he quickly invites you in to talk about it over luncheon.

✧ Frodo is surprised when you suddenly appear with his uncle for food, but he accepts it.

✧ The two of you are quick to bond when you talk about your travels - even if most are only a few days away from the Shire.

✧ He's completely enamoured by you - and Bilbo eats quickly to excuse himself and let you two be alone.

✧ You reinforce his ideas of going on one of Bilbo’s grand adventures, and after luncheon is over Frodo asks you to stay so that you may talk some more.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the day pouring over old maps as you tell him the facts you’ve learnt about those places from the wild, while he shares the facts that his beloved books tell him.

✧ When you realise the time you try to excuse yourself, but Bilbo insists you spend the night in a guest room.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Like most of the Shire, you were out in the summer festival - enjoying the field that had been cleared to make way for food, dancing, tents, hobbits sitting about, and more food.

✧ Predictably, your friends had dragged you into dancing, they wanted to as well but were too scared to go alone, and then had left you without partners you knew.

✧ The first few spins had been fun, but eventually you needed to take a break and actually enjoy what else the festival had to offer.

✧ As you stand close to the dancers, a hobbit with darker curly hair (the younger Baggins) comes up to.

✧ You ready yourself to say no to dancing, but instead he asks if you’ll dance with his friend.

✧ The words ‘no’ die in your mouth as you see the hobbit next to him, shy but looking on hopefully at the dancing before casting a glance to you.

✧ “Gladly.”

✧ To your pleasant surprise, he’s a decent dancer, and when you both run out of energy to go again Sam rushes to get you both food and seats.

✧ It’s a small gesture, in the scheme of things, but over the food he’s collected and the cheer in the air you can’t help thinking of just how sweet Samwise already is to you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Being a hobbit from Bree meant you didn’t often travel to the Shire - it was a rather long distance after all - but it was always nice when you did.

✧ Like travelling to the harvest festival for when the crops started to become bountiful, and everything would be freshly picked and perfectly cooked. You could celebrate in Bree, but food based festivals are always better when done by hobbits.

✧ You’re stuck on what stall to eat from first, overwhelmed at all the options, when a young hobbit suddenly taps you on the shoulder and asks if you need help in choosing something.

✧ Deciding to trust the locals you say yes, and it’s rewarded by a large smile from the hobbit before Merry introduces himself then instantly begins to drag you to a further away stall - talking about all the different options, before trying to guess what flavour you’d like.

✧ He gets above five flavours in before stopping, and saying you should choose what you want - not what he thinks.

✧ When you decide, his eyes seem to light up even more as he tells you that’s his favourite too.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the night together, and he eventually asks if you’re from Bree.

✧ You say yes but that you’re staying for a while, to which Merry immediately offers to show you around the Shire - offering a date for tomorrow.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ As one of Elrond’s advisors, you’re aware that something big is going to happen soon. Any elf in Rivendell can feel it, especially when you’re privy to whispers of information such as ‘Sauron’ and ‘the one ring’.

✧ What you aren’t expecting is for this ‘something’ to be in the form of hobbits, one brought by Arwen - and the other three to be brought by Aragorn.

✧ Knowing the Nazgul’s attack on them, you wait on the borders of Rivendell for Isildur’s heir and his company.

✧ When Pippin sees you, almost silhouetted by the falling sun, he believes for a second you might be an angel.

✧ Even when you move to where he can see you (and begin admonishing Aragorn in Elvish) he still can’t shake the feeling that someone like you is too good for him and the hobbits.

✧ He doesn’t realise he’s staring, or blushing, until you come in front of him and gently kneel to check his forehead, asking if he’s ok.

✧ It takes him a second to respond - which probably doesn’t give too much confidence - but you accept his answering, welcoming him to Rivendell.

✧ The place is beautiful, but when you leave them to inform Lord Elrond of their arrival he can’t help thinking the place is already not quite as good.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ It was at times like this, when you’d been called away from the crucial stronghold of Osgiliath because of ‘important meetings’, that you wished the rangers didn’t have to listen to Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, and could instead listen to his younger brother, your actual commander.

✧ This thought was probably shared among a lot of the rangers, but you were the only one brave enough to say it, which is why you were currently in what reminded you suspiciously of a school’s detention room.

✧ Apparently this was a good deterrent, seeing as only you were in here, holding a small slip of paper that says ‘Disrespectful to the Captain of the White Tower’.

✧ The door opens, finally, and you’re just about to express your thanks to them for actually showing up when you realise who it is.

✧ Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, stares back at you just as you realise you’re going to have to tell this man what you did.

✧ Trying to master the art of vanishing from Middle Earth, you can feel yourself blushing when you hand him your write-up slip.

✧ There’s a second of silence before a small laugh escapes him, and he looks at you more directly before asking what you said.

✧ You’re honest about it, and to your surprise he asks you for clarification and follow-ups, actually listening to your suggestions.

✧ In the end, it’s a bell chiming that snaps you out of your discussions and when the two of you get up to leave he opens the door with a smile, wishing you a good day.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ For the last three years, the Lord Steward had tried to find a betrothed for his eldest son, Boromir. For the last three years you had consistently refused to go. This year, however, your parents had finally put their foot down and made you attend the ceremony.

✧ It was a very small chance he’d choose you, and a (hopefully) even smaller chance the engagement would become anything.

✧ But on the chance it would, you decide to do what anyone would do, and get slightly drunk in a tavern to try and hook up with someone.

✧ With incredible wisdom, you had taken up a spot in a dark corner where literally no-one was approaching you.

✧ And then someone does.

✧ You’re shocked he hasn’t already found someone; not many people would turn down the man in front of you.

✧ In the tavern light his grey eyes seem to shine, his hair a gorgeous colour that reminds you of sweet caramel and looks incredibly soft.

✧ Moved, not entirely by the drink, you find yourself going over - saying a comment and trying to smile, laughing at his response.

✧ There’s a second of silence between the two of you and you realise how close you are.

✧ You close the gap, and the two of you are kissing - you’re going back against the wall and your hands reach out to pull him closer - then it stops.

✧ A muttered apology is all you get before he leaves.

✧ And in the morning you’re left with the vague memory of a kiss, a memory of a semi-familiar man, and a hangover.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ As Aragorn’s younger sibling, you’re no stranger to people fawning over your brother. That does not mean, however, it doesn’t amuse you and you don’t tease him incredibly.

✧ You watch Aragorn leave the stables, having just enough time to congratulate him on his new horse, and his new admirer, before said admirer appears.

✧ Although you tease your brother you’re still good to the people who fall for him, and you give a respectful nod to the girl - Éowyn.

✧ She smiles back at you, before her eyes flicker between you and your brother. It’s a tale as old as time, and you sit up slightly straighter.

✧ What you don't expect, however, is for her to compare you in terms of spirit - how both of you seem elven, and noble.

✧ Normally people make a shallower comparison, or just go to you to confirm facts, and it’s refreshing and nice to hear that instead.

✧ You confirm your relation to him, before focusing your attention back on her. That her nature seems noble as well, and that it seems like her uncles.

✧ When she glows at the compliment you smile, and the next few minutes of small talk are pleasant before you’re pulled away.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ You first see Éomer while waiting for his sister to arrive, humming to yourself in the great wooden halls.

✧ To your credit you only jump a little when he appears out of no-where, and on his part he is most apologetic.

✧ From his perspective, he came because he heard the sound of your humming - better than the songs sung over festivals in this hall - and wishes to know from whom it came.

✧ He’s silent at first, scared to move in case he startles you too badly - and not wanting to be loud and disrupt the song.

✧ Hesitantly, he asks who you are - and if you are the friend his sister has spoken so highly of.

✧ When you confirm that is you, he says it’s an honour to meet you and he’s glad you’ve been such a good friend to his sister.

✧ There’s a pause again, and just when you’re about to speak Éowyn appears by your side and ready to go.

✧ As happy as you are to go with her, something in you is regretful you could not spend more time getting to know Éomer.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ In jail for assaulting a counsellor, especially as a guard of Laketown, is not exactly how you expected your Friday shift to go. Still, when you stare at the girl next to you (Sigrid) you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad about doing what you did.

✧ You had simply seen Alfrid towering over her, her being clearly uncomfortable - and you had pulled him off when things got physical. It was bad luck Sigrid had punched him at the same time, landing you both in jail.

✧ The girl seems more apologetic around you being here than her actions, to be honest, and she keeps reassuring you that her dad will come soon to sort things out.

✧ On Bard’s part, the news that his daughter is in jail for punching a counsellor is not what he wanted to hear but he goes out immediately. He’s about to head off when Sigrid tells him about you, and of course Bard realises he needs to get you out as well.

✧ When a drop-dead gorgeous man appears outside your cell, your mind begins to debate the merits of flirting your way out before he introduces himself as Sigrid’s father.

✧ Once you get out he thanks you profusely, as well as apologising for his daughter, but you wave him off with a smile.

✧ Bard can barely believe someone with this much honour still exists in this place, and makes a small note to thank whatever’s out there for having you look after his daughter.

✧ Eventually, you manage to convince him to stop thanking you and to let you go home - although when the man gives you one more piece of sincere praise you can’t find yourself annoyed.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ As you sit at a beautifully carved, uncomfortable desk you realise you’re not as nervous as you probably should be to meet the king.

✧ You’ve seen him before, of course, looking at him when all the elves of Mirkwood are out - or gossiping with the other single elves about what are decidedly fantasies. But you’ve never spoken.

✧ As a private tutor, in written work and fighting, you had jumped at the opportunity to mentor Prince Legolas.

✧ The door opens and you rise to your feet immediately, going into a deep bow.

✧ As Thranduil bids you to rise, you can feel his eyes sweeping over you and looking for any imperfections.

✧ Instead of cowering you meet his gaze, and you swear you see the ghost of a smile on his face before it becomes more serious.

✧ The interview, one of many, is surprisingly pleasant and you find it easy to talk to him.

✧ When you are made to leave, he watches you exit, thinking about saying something before thanking you for your performance and interest in the role.

✧ It’s a small gesture, but to be thanked by the king? It puts a bounce in your step for the rest of the day.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ As the tenth shot in as many minutes hits the target perfectly, you can’t help but wish to use your sword, and against something that isn’t a training dummy.

✧ Elves are known for being archers, and although you’re skilled with a bow it’s easier to stand out with exceptional sword-mastery than exceptional marksmanship.

✧ Then, a voice behind you asks if you want to spar together - an offer almost too good to be true.

✧ Turning around you vaguely recognise the elf in front of you, her hair is distinctive, and you ask if she too is trying to join the royal guard.

✧ Tauriel confirms it, and then the two of you get into position.

✧ There’s something incredibly satisfying about a good match-up and the two of you fight well together.

✧ You’re mostly evenly matched, and it takes a lot of effort to push on the offensive and get her closer to the wall.

✧ Eventually, she wins the first fight. But as you both stand there, catching your breath and smiling at each other, you bear no grudge.

✧ You only ask if she wants a re-match.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Anyone wanting to become a healer knows that the halls of the elves are the best places to go, if you wish to learn, so here you are. Three weeks travel deep into your route to Rivendell.

✧ Whilst riding you can’t help feeling something is off about the place - almost as if you’re being watched - but you chalk it up to elven magic.

✧ Then you see an elf, near the borders and picking some kind of flower. He has long, dark hair and you’re reminded just how ethereal the elves are compared to the race of men.

✧ And then all hell breaks loose.

✧ Just as you’re about to call out in greeting, a small band of orcs come out of the trees - you recognize the monster as what they are, instantly drawing your bow.

✧ Lindir sees the orcs approaching, quickly getting out his dagger while cursing his luck.

✧ As an orcish blade pierces him, blood instantly spilling from his side, he begins to wonder if this could be the end before an arrow suddenly goes though the orcs head.

✧ There’s barely time to react as a horse with a rider gallops past him, holding their hand out and pulling him up before wheeling back around to finish off the last orc.

✧ You barely have time to celebrate your victory when you feel the elf beside you slump into unconsciousness, clearly from the bloodloss.

✧ You wish you could say you entered Rivendell in a better way, rather than with a highly wounded elf at your side, but enter Rivendell like that you do.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had been alerted of people in the woods of Lothlórien by the Lady as soon as they had arrived, and had found them quickly.

✧ He was rather disappointed in how easily his troops went undetected, not even by Isildur’s heir or the elves from a distance.

✧ You had been uneasy as soon as you walked into the woods, convinced something was watching you. As an elf you of course knew of Galadriel’s powers, but whatever you could sense was more imminent.

✧ Then, with the quietest of sounds, you hear bows being drawn and arrows knocked into place.

✧ On instinct you draw your bow at the same time as your prince does, except you're quick enough to fire the arrow.

✧ The second the arrow leaves your bow you recognise the elves, and instantly you attempt to bat the arrow down again - wincing as you knock it just enough off target to miss the lead elf.

✧ As Haldir feels the arrow whistle past him, his first thought is that of admiration - the intensity in your eyes to protect this band of people.

✧ Opening your mouth to apologise, he holds a hand to stop you and congratulate you on your shot before turning to the more serious matters of the Fellowship.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ As one of only a handful of elves still in their first century, it’s no wonder that you were eventually introduced to the Sons of Elrond.

✧ It had been in one of Rivendell’s great libraries, and although both looked interested to meet you there was one you were more interested in meeting.

✧ Elrohir had been the one to make introductions first, declaring their names before politely asking yours.

✧ Elladan on the other hand hung back slightly. You were beautiful, a full elf, and something about that made him slightly intimidated.

✧ It wasn’t until you had all sat down and you were looking around the library he realised just how compatible you were.

✧ “What books would you recommend?”

✧ The question is simple, but Elladan immediately latches onto it and begins to ask questions - what genre are you looking for, would you like something sad? Would you like a story or a historical account - and if so from which time period?

✧ He speaks fast enough that his elvish begins to flow together, but you keep up with him just as well.

✧ In almost no time the two of you are off the chairs, and he eagerly leads you to the section you're looking for.

✧ Your eyes widen as you gaze upon the piles of stacked books, neatly organised and in shelves.

✧ From the sidelines Elladan watches eagerly, and for the first time since his brother he feels he has finally found a kindred spirit.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ When Elrohir rides into the Battle of Pelennor Fields with the army of the dead he can practically feel the relief of the soldiers, and wonders if there are many greater feelings in life that this.

✧ Almost two hours later, as the fighting dies down and he begins to look for the wounded he decides there probably aren’t.

✧ He doesn’t realise someone is calling, or at least calling specifically him, until the person yells for the ‘half-elf with the horse’

✧ Elrohir has no idea who the person is, but the fact they don’t refer to him as an elf already makes him love them.

✧ Going over, he sees you crouching beside a clearly wounded soldier - one of their legs incredibly damaged.

✧ Looking up you ask if he can transport them to the Houses of Healing, as not to aggrevate the wound further.

✧ He instantly agrees before hesitantly asking where they are.

✧ Upon seeing the slight despair in your eyes, he holds out the reins of his horse to you.

✧ “Fly swift with him. I’ll keep searching for wounded and sending more up. Return him to me when he’s no longer needed.”

✧ You can hardly believe your luck - but it isn’t for you to question, instead thanking him on behalf of Gondor before going as quickly as you can to the Houses.

Hope you enjoyed! Here are the details about requests, and again thanks for reading!

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[dailymtgflavortext]

"But I am going to Mordor," said Frodo. "I know that well enough," said Sam. "Of course you are. And I'm coming with you."

-Valley of Gorgoroth (Wasteland)

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Let’s talk Saurondriel Season 3: Predictions

The last episodes of Season 2 kicked off the “War of the Elves and Sauron” plot from Tolkien canon. The rings of power have been created, and Eregion has fallen. At the end of 2x08, we see the survivors from Eregion arriving at a hidden valley near the Misty Mountains: this will be Imladris (more known as Rivendell).

(Why is Gil-galad looking at them like that? Is this foreshadowing for something?)

What is most likely to happen in Season 3: 

Forging of the One Ring; 

Sauron conquest of Middle-earth begins; 

Sauron finding the Nine ring-bearers, and creating the Nazgûl; 

Sauron trying to get the Three Elven rings of power back;

"Days of Flight": Sauron tries to attack Lindon, and Rivendell is founded;

Sauron gets captured by Ar-Pharazôn at the end, or this will be only in Season 4 (Fall of Númenor).

1) The door isn't "shut". It's wide open, now.

If the blood binding hypothesis is correct (and I think it is, because Morgoth’s crown was the Chekhov's gun of Season 2) Sauron and Galadriel, now, have an open line of communication into each other’s minds and souls. And we already saw a preview of this in 2x08:

With them being bound together, Sauron doesn’t need to “tempt” Galadriel anymore (to be his queen): he’ll probably try to actually bring her to his side, this time. Or even act as servant to him, since he wants to bind the Elves to his will, too; and so trying to make Galadriel hand over the Three to him would make sense with Tolkien canon. Sauron probably transferred some of his powers into her, and all of this will most likely kick out Galadriel’s “magical arc” (“elf-witch”).  

How will this play out? Probably dreams, visions and illusions, because, depending on where Galadriel will be (and I’m betting Rivendell and Lindon), he can’t actually go there himself, in the flesh.

Which leads me to the next point: 

2) Will Sauron use another character to get into Galadriel's head, again? 

In Season 2, we saw Sauron using Celebrimbor to get into Galadriel’s head, on two different occasions (2x02 and 2x08): "Are they not the seeds you planted?"

Elrond (2x02): There is no navigating it. The labyrinth is his. As long as you stay in it, you've already lost. He may well want you in Eregion... Galadriel (2x08): All this... was your design from the beginning.

Galadriel’s vision in 2x02 proved that Nenya doesn’t block Sauron’s interference (as many assume), and he pretty much confirms this in 2x08: the ring isn’t free from his influence and power (the same as in Tolkien canon). 

This makes me wonder if he might use Elrond next season for his “evil theatrics”, because this gentle spirit has been acting kind of shady in 2x07 and 2x08, already. And this mystery box might transition to Season 3, and it would be more effective than any other character, really (Gil-galad, for instance). And Season 3 will be a major season for Elrond, too, as he will create Rivendell and become a Elf Lord of his own right.

2) What consequences will the wound from Morgoth’s crown have on Galadriel?

Sauron (2x08) : Galadriel, surely you of all Elves must understand that to find the light, we must first touch the darkness.

This wound will probably be similar to Frodo’s in “Lord of the Rings”, but worse, due to the blood binding. It will never actually heal, either, which means it will have eternal effects on Galadriel herself.  

Galadriel: Sometimes to find the light, we must first touch the darkness. Halbrand/Mairon: What do you know of darkness? Galadriel and Halbrand/Mairon at Númenor forge (1x05)

This wound can’t possibly be ignored by the plot, and I think that the choice of having Galadriel all dressed in white after her healing is intentional, to mislead the audience into believing she emerged “victorious” and “all light” from her showdown with Sauron.

We can’t forget the red herring ending of Season 1, with Sauron arriving at Mordor, appearing victorious himself, as if he was taking over the place. This makes me believe it will be the other way around: I think we will see Galadriel struggling with the Darkness way harder than before, in Season 3 (embodied in her desire for Sauron and power).

A penitent: in her youth a leader in the rebellion against the Valar (the angelic guardians). At the end of the First Age she proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return [to Valinor]. She was pardoned because of her resistance to the final and overwhelming temptation to take the [One] Ring for herself. Tolkien, Letter 320

In Tolkien canon, Galadriel is only able to truly and finally resist Sauron when she refuses Frodo’s offer, and is pardoned by the Valar. That's her (true) last temptation. Thousands of years later. Which means, Saurondriel is far from over in “Rings of Power”. It has just begun.

First: Galadriel will have to face the truth about “Halbrand” and “Sauron” being the same, and that the "Halbrand" she fell in love with was, in fact, repentant Mairon (he was real). Only this can explain why she’s still pining after Mairon’s offer in 1x08 thousands of years later with Frodo (if she believed him to be just an illusion, she would probably have got over it, eventually).  

However, since Galadriel will be probably spiral down into darkness in Season 3, actual Sauron will most likely be seductive and appealing to her.

Galadriel can’t “close the door” of her mind to Sauron on her own. She doesn’t know how. Her “elf-witch arc” hasn’t even begun, yet. Her magical arc will start on Season 3.

3) Gandalf the Mentor

Galadriel will need a mentor to help her with her new-found powers and keep her in the Light (and for her to be able to "close the door" later on) and the only character that can, truly, be up to this challenge is Gandalf. Not sure if this will happen in Season 3 or Season 4.

Both Sauron and Gandalf are Maiar, which means only Gandalf’s power can be a match for Sauron’s. Gandalf was sent to Middle-earth by the Valar to help the Free people fight against Sauron. However, and pretty much like Galadriel herself, he never actually faced him, working against him, indirectly.

Círdan also gives Gandalf his ring of power, Narya, at the start of the Third Age. In one draft is due to his good services to the Elves, but Tolkien never provided an actual explanation concerning what these “services” actually were. Helping Galadriel could offer an actual explanation.

This would explain why Gandalf has the absolute trust and friendship of the Elves (and of Galadriel, above all), why he became a member of the White Council and why Galadriel went to her only known confrontation with Sauron (in Tolkien canon) because of him. 

4) Celeborn’s return?

I don’t think the showrunners should have Celeborn returning before Galadriel is able to actually “close the door” of her mind to Sauron, because (1) it would be kind of weird for Galadriel/Celeborn relationship, and (2) create a rabbit hole of problems for the narrative. And having this happening in Season 3 is a bit premature, and I think they are aware of this too.

It’s been established that Sauron is obsessed with Galadriel, to the point of possessiveness (if “blood binding theory” is correct), and he will remain so for thousands of years later. Meaning: having Celebrían conceived before the “door is closed” could truly mess with Tolkien’s genealogies because there is no way Sauron would allow that to happen without his interference (Half-Maia Celebrían, anyone?).  

At this point, Celeborn has to return to Middle-earth alongside Glorfindel. It’s the only scenario that makes sense (and Sauron already talked about the Fall of Gondolin). In Tolkien canon, Glorfindel is sent back to Middle-earth by Manwë somewhere in the Second age (around the time Sauron forged the One ring), and as an emissary from the Valar. However, he only had any significant role to play in the story after the War of the Last Alliance (when Sauron is defeated). And since “Rings of Power” has already changed some of Tolkien’s timelines, they can have Glorfindel arrive at the very end of the Second Age instead, in Season 5 (the “epilogue” of the show).  

There is no way Celeborn is alive, or being held captive anywhere, at this point. He has to be dead and in the Halls of Mandos “resurrecting” until he’s re-embodied later, and allowed to return to Middle-earth.

[thrillofhope]

Can we talk about how the opening and closing shots of S1 and S2 sort of mirror each other?

S1 opens with a young Galadriel, washed in the light of Valinor.

S2 opens with Sauron in a dark cave in the Forodwaith.

S1 ends on a shot of Sauron overlooking a valley of darkness in Mordor

S2 ends with the elves overlooking a valley of refuge and healing and light in Imladris.

There’s a nice symmetry to that, the difference being that Galadriel is no longer alone, but Sauron is.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

…somewhere further north, a sudden chill went down Aragorn’s spine while his second in command just laughed at him. deceiving Taenil very rarely ended up well, especially after the events of the last few years. Hal had tried to caution their Chieftain against sending the young elf to get Eruingil but the man was stubborn.

he had no real interest in interacting with many of his race; not at the moment anyway. icy cold blue eyes scanned her silently, then give a slight nod. it had been difficult but not impossible before, to get him to ‘speak’. now though, Taenil was still recovering from his capture and torture in Sauron’s hands.

talking in any form simply wasn't something he did anymore. two years of deliberately being non verbal didn’t help anyone. the quiet Elven Ranger turned away from Imladris and started heading towards the Bruinen Ford. of course, on the rare occasions Taenil did speak; his voice was just above whisper level and rough with pain.

“Getting you to.. Bree then I'm.. leaving… I do not.. like being deceived…”

when the Rangers of the North wanted to keep a secret, they did so far too well. never giving it up unless in exceptional circumstances and this time was no different. especially as revealing it would mean being on the receiving end of both their Chieftain and Commander's anger, which wasn't pleasant.

the secret? Taenil's unexpected return and subsequent recovery after being a prisoner in Mordor.

but he had changed. had turned darker, although none of the rangers could blame him. it was at the young elf's request himself that he'd be given missions, which would take him to places very few went. Aragorn understood, as did Hal, so it was easy to slip away into the Wilds and only have limited contact with folk.

rarely ever did he get missions to go near inhabited places, making most think that he was dead. if he did, the elven ranger tended to work mostly at night to avoid a lot of interaction. but he had stayed away from the settlements of the elves, until now. for his mission was to pick up a letter for Aragorn.

@storiedocs

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: Three Is Company

Frodo calling it “Our Birthday” is making me feel things. Oh would you look at the time, it’s Crying About Bilbo and Frodo O’Clock again TT~TT

It’s honestly such a mood that Frodo says to himself “I’m following Bilbo!” so he doesn’t have to think about “I’m carrying a thing of great evil into danger and unseen ends”. Me too, Frodo. Me too.

“And see that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him into a toad.” 🤣

“Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose one, and not return, as far as I can see.” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME—

Also “and not to return” is so heartbreaking, especially knowing that by the time he gets to Mordor Frodo is fully expecting to die at the end of his journey TT^TT

“It may be your task to find the Cracks of Doom.” JUST DROP THAT FORESHADOWING RIGHT THERE LIKE IT’S NOTHING, HUH, TOLKIEN??

Also teehee crack

Yes I am a twelve year old boy on the inside, moving on

The local shade towards the Sackville-Bagginses is HYSTERICAL

“Ah yes Merry is looking out for a house for me in Buckland.” INSTANCE #2 OF MERRY BEING ORGANIZATIONALLY GOATED

I’m honestly very impressed by how neatly Tolkien crafted Frodo’s backstory and interwove it into the story. The idea that he’s going back to Buckland where he grew up really does seem credible! None of the hobbits would suspect a thing! I almost have to wonder which came first in Tolkien’s mind, Frodo’s backstory or the fact that he’d need a good excuse to go East. It’s so well-crafted and it makes my writer brain happy.

F in the chat for Folco Boffin; we know your name and nothing else about you

Frodo draining the last of the wine like “lol at least the Sackville-Bagginses won’t get THIS!” is very funny to me

I have said it before, I’ll say it again, Frodo looking in the mirror and going “geez I’ve gotten fat” will NEVER NOT BE FUNNY

“Frodo did not offer [Lobelia] any tea.” I hereby name you Frodo Sassville-Baggins.

Aww, the Gaffer agreed to Sam going to Crickhollow to work for Frodo!

If only he knew just how far he was really going

“…though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbour.” o7 for the Gaffer, everybody

And they had tea by themselves and left the dishes for Lobelia 🤣 FRODO SASSVILLE-BAGGINS

“‘Coming, sir!’ came the answer from far within, followed soon by Sam himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer-barrel in the cellar.” LOL

Also I can’t blame him, knowing what he’s walking into

“He waved his hand, then turned and (following Bilbo, if he had known it) hurried after Peregrin down the garden-path.” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE—

Frodo, whining: "My bag is so heavy" Sam, lying: "I could carry more, sir!" Pippin: "Oh no you don't, let him suffer"

Honestly the dynamic of this trio is super underrated LOL

I'm honestly not sure whether "well, we all like walking in the dark" is meant to be sarcastic or genuine—the way it's repeated later on makes me think it's genuine, but I can't be sure—so just to be safe I'm bringing the Frodo Sassville-Baggins score up to 2.5

I'm taking the time to read the walking bits slowly now, and honestly, the way Tolkien describes the countryside of the Shire is so beautiful. I want to go there, and I want to walk there, and I want to see what the hobbits are seeing. Every little piece of nature and topography elicits an emotion; from the enclosed safety of Hobbiton, cradled in its cozy little valley, to the great fir tree standing guard over the hobbits as they sleep, to the road winding endlessly on before them, promising still more work and beautiful scenery and adventures to come. Is this slow reading? Yes. But I love it so much.

Frodo wakes up and the first thing he does is grumble to himself about his back and neck. He really is an old man. I love him.

Honestly this entire scene is comedy gold

Frodo: "Wake up, hobbits! It's a beautiful morning." Pippin, a literal teenager: "What's so beautiful about it?" ROFLOL

Pippin, literally out in the middle of nowhere: "Sam, draw a bath!"

And for that, Frodo steals his blankets and makes him roll over. Frodo Sassville-Baggins score: 3.5

Pippin: "Water! Where's the water?" Frodo: "I don't keep water in my pockets!" SASSVILLE-BAGGINS SCORE: 4.5

And then he makes Pippin come get the water with him, since he wants it so badly. I love Exasperated Older Sibling Frodo and I wish we got to see so much more of it.

Pippin, after Frodo randomly bursts into poetry: "Wow, was that Bilbo's poetry, or yours? It's kind of a downer."

I'm so glad they kept the "it's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door" line in the movies, because it really is so good.

Sam's canonically good hearing returns!

Frodo suggesting they prank Gandalf for being late is honestly so cute lol

Twice in this chapter we get the eucatastrophe of Frodo just barely not putting on the Ring, right at the last second. The first time, the Black Rider just walks off on his own, and the second time the Elves show up and scare him off. I will praise Frodo's virtues 'till Spring turns into Winter, but I think this is clear evidence right from the beginning that Frodo was not, and could not, be saved from the temptation of the Ring by any virtue of his own. He is saved; he does not save himself. All of which is honestly very Christian of Tolkien.

Pippin, to Frodo: "All right, keep your secrets!"

I love the walking song. I might do a revised recording of it, if you guys will tolerate my singing voice again X-D

Can we just acknowledge how bad*ss it is that Frodo sneaks up and spies on a Black Rider, just out of curiosity?? Like, I know this is more a feat of stupidity than it is of courage, but given everything we know about them by the end of the book, that is honestly WICKED cool.

Sam, having to be dragged back by his arms: "ELVES! ELVES!"

GILDOR!!

GILDOR MY UNDERRATED BESTIE

I can't wait to draw Gildor. He's gonna be so PRETTY

"But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are so dull" is so funny tho

The Elves, with all the love in their hearts: "You can't sit with us, you're boring!"

FINROD MY MAN

I have not read the Silmarillion, but I know enough about it to know that Finrod is the G.O.A.T.

The Elves: "You're being followed by Black Riders?? Okay you're coming with us now"

Frodo speaking the High-elven tongue like a NERD

I love him

And Gildor immediately like "LOL y'all watch your language, the babies can understand us!" I love him dearly

....Okay wait I have a thought about the hobbits walking with the elves until they nearly fall asleep on their feet. A thought about soldiers and Tolkien's experience in war. Wait. I'm gonna have to make a post about this.

Eyyyy it's the Turin constellation!

Something about the Elven hall did indeed become a core memory for young Lady Glasses. I spent quite a few years building a fantasy world that would capture that sense of mysticism and wonder. Just like Sam and Pippin, I never really remembered the details, but the emotion stuck with me, and it enchanted my imagination.

The Elves bringing out a Thanksgiving feast and saying "sorry we don't have better food" is like going over to your friend's immaculately cleaned house and them saying "sorry for the mess"

Frodo speaking the Elves' language and charming them all is so cute

Sam falling asleep at Frodo's feet as he talks to Gildor is SO CUTE

“At last Frodo asked the question that was nearest to his heart: ‘Tell me, Gildor, have ever you seen Bilbo since he left us?’” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT—

"My faithful Sam" UGH THE FEELS

Gildor: "But it is said: 'Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.'" Frodo: "And it is also said, 'Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.'" HAHAHA GETTIM FRODO

SASSVILLE-BAGGINS SCORE: 5.5

Gildor saying "you don't need to understand the Black Riders, just stay away from them" is honestly very Christian of Tolkien too. The best spiritual warfare advice I've ever heard is "don't try to understand demons; just get as close to your Protector".

Anyway Gildor complimenting Frodo is very cute and that is all

[sgiandubh]

A tale of two brands

Sophie Mancini's Departures paper on S in NY started a flurry of comments even before the whole content was made available on blogs. That people - mostly in Mordor - jumped in to add their two booing cents on the matter, based on two or three Instagram Story screencaps only, is a testimony to Tumblr's community deep interest in S's slightest PR/sales move and the easiness with which people like *urv managed to push their own agenda, in the process, to her unsuspecting, bicep-loving crowd.

Many of these comments asked just one question, more or less kindly and more or less openly: who are you, Sam Roland Heughan? Some of them, more along my alley, took a different angle: who are you talking to, Sam Roland Heughan?

Let me count the US crowds: the Wall Street yuppie crowd? the old money, WASP Knickerbocker / Colony Club crowd? Tribeca's sophisticated, culture-ish snob crowd? the UN international crowd? the laid-back (-ish) brownstone Brooklyn crowd? the DC politico types? the Boston Brahmin crowd? the Silicon Valley Bitcoin crowd? the Florida Latino crowd? the Bible Belt crowd? the Deep South charmingly old-fashioned crowd? the yee-haw, witty and ambitious Texans? the gourmet, nature-loving Seattle crowd? I am sure I am missing some (it's been a while I haven't traveled to the States and I have to say I miss all 50 of them, plus and perhaps above all my beloved DC :), but you get the idea. And the problem, or rather its first layer.

The second question this very poorly written article prompted is: what are you talking about, Sam Roland Heughan? I mean, what destination are you trying to promote? Scotland, through your Scottish gin, which I truly believe is exceptional? The Big Apple, like a counterpart to Sting, you know - a Scotsman in New York? That's not very clear, since that superficial girl just whirled you to a couple Chinatown speakeasies, rat pitter-patter included (bye-bye, Knickerbocker crowd right there) and that's pretty much it. New Zealand, that you mention at length, Maori tattoo story re-hashed, just because the book comes out next Tuesday? Ha-wa-wee, perhaps in a belated attempt to mitigate Tunagate? California, even, because it takes you back to humble beginnings? Granted, the Frisco one, not LA: that would be a horrible faux-pas, in a NY centered paper, much like me whimsically and idiotically mentioning Istanbul (instead of Constantinople), in a conversation with my Greek friends.

My head spins. And then let's add to that a ladle of recycled talking points, yours and C's altogether, like this gem:

Aspirational. Mmmhm. She said that. You said that. Multiple times, in multiple contexts that probably didn't even call for it. This is *** PR right there. I am not JAMMF. I am not Claire. But we aspire to that. Stop thinking we are these characters. No sane fan ever did: the insistence is unnecessary and has a real backfire potential. Stop thinking, period. But let it be my shipper sin, then, not to believe an iota of it and stubbornly think you people are, by now, way past the aspirational stage.

So, I took a long walk down memory lane today, while driving, trying to understand what the hell your personal brand is. Once upon a time, things were clear: you and C were a single brand. S&C - the fresh-faced, candid, witty and funny and oh, so in love new kids on the block. The spark was real and it was strong (it still is, only dampened and muted by PR-prompted shenanigans) and OL's audience was under its spell. People loved you, both of you, and some of us still do. You showed us as much as you could and for a while, it seemed to be convenient for just about everybody. That created expectations, but at the same time, you could have sold us land concessions on the Moon and we would have bought them, no questions asked.

And then, things happened. We know what: IFH, EFH, Remarkable Week-end. The spell was broken for many, who left in droves. Fans turned into bashing other fans. The S&C brand was progressively compromised and along with it, your Barbour Ambassadorship (for different reasons). Let's stop a bit at this point, in fond remembrance: that was the perfect pitch, for the perfect kind of corporate brand, for the perfect niche, for the perfect guy. A guy who had a credible, authentic story to tell, with a really strong potential to attract people outside of OL's crowd. Image and message perfectly aligned. Best case scenario.

So, with ***'s and your own PR benediction, what once was your solid gold starting point was ridiculed, trampled, shot to shambles, in a (failed) attempt to be sent to complete oblivion. You then had to think of something and try to branch out of both the blessing and curse of it.

MPC suddenly became more important than just any other charity project, of which there were a few (Cahonas Scotland comes to mind, the blood cancer one, as well). Cue in Sam the Athlete, Sam the Healthy Living Evangelist. The project was turned into a lucrative business, with a strong charity side. People bought subscriptions, people changed their eating and lifestyle habits, people lost weight - but really, I shouldn't write 'people', but 'women'. This was a women-oriented endeavor. A problem, again, on the long term.

Ha-wa-wee 1 happened, to more scandal and shrieks (that, I believe, was the reason you lost the Barbour project, another gold opportunity squandered because ten Internet bitches knew better). Then we were told another avatar was born: Sam the Entrepreneur. With a genuine, carefully curated, labor of love first alcohol product that clearly used the discarded S&C brand: The Sassenach and believe what you want, but just buy it. Mommies obliged. Antis obliged. Shippers obliged. All wallets are created equal, as I (often) use to say. And then COVID-19 came, putting a very real, very dangerous logistic strain on it.

Yet, you still had to somehow mitigate delays and losses. The Sassenach went exotic, with that limited edition tequila that probably won't be remembered by many outside OL's fandom, and that is a pity and a shame. The reason it won't be remembered is that you almost did not promote it, spare one or two Tick-Tock and Instagram clips. Does that justify the investment, the trips to Mexico, the very expensive retainers and commissions your tequila friends took for their trouble? I very much doubt it. That was, until being proved completely wrong, a flop. It brought absolutely nothing in terms of personal branding, spare perhaps a new faction in this paranoid cesspool of a fandom: the Gay Crowd, fueled by the image of a Lonely Bandana Cowboy, instead of the intended Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur. Yes, people are stupid, like that. Your PR and Sales team, too - and this comes from a place of deep understanding and appreciation.

We are now talking gin and boy, am I glad we do! This is perhaps an opportunity. Finally, a more democratically price-tagged, carefully tailored (again) drawing card product. But who is selling it to me? The California Boat Party Host? In that case, I won't buy it, but never mind me: maybe the fun-loving California Millennials would (we know the Smuggling Mommies would do it, anyways). The Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur you tried to show us again in Mancini's abysmal Departures paper and who is invited to important events, in recognition of his efforts?

You can't have the two of them, Sam, whatever those incompetents told you. You're either a 43-years old midlife crisis-stricken and shirtless clown or an Old World Industrious Thespian, with a stature and a status to match. A real Entrepreneur, not a cartoon scuba diver/beach boy Influencer. Eye Candy vs. Brain Power: after all, you are a '3x NYT best selling author', aren't you? Your pick, not mine. Stop the Sri Mataji-style Hugging and Booze tours: it's nonsense and that geriatric crowd is nowhere near what you need to make your dream come true. Do some real soul searching and stop listening to clueless 28-year old journalists, who tell you tacky rings are fun: they aren't. They make you look like an ageing Atlantic City Sinatra wannabe:

Sam Roland Heughan: currently at crossroads, trying to not choose between two opposite personal brands. Tricky position and an even trickier context, with the strike still lingering on and the pressing need to find an after OL strategy.

I promised you a tale of two brands and I think you wonder, by now, what happened to C, the other half of the primary SC brand?

The answer is, I honestly believe, not much. She has no personal brand, so to speak. Until now, she is just an Enthusiastic Dilettante. Book Club - started, unfinished and with that, farewell to any fan engagement. Cinema production rights - bought and then silence. Botanical Gin - first batch released (?) with no promo, no interviews (mentioning it in a podcast does not count), no reviews. Then teasing, then crickets again: a bit late, now, for the end of year celebrations. And I have to say I miss her or the part of her I never witnessed in real time (is such a thing possible?). I miss that starry-eyed, funny and witty girl. That girl was somehow completely swallowed by an Acrid Matron, who thought it was intelligent to yell at an Internet nobody, on Christmas Day, 'I am not married to Sam!' (ok, you aren't, but you're still lying). And I honestly don't know which one is best (or worst, for that matter): try to build something and make mistakes and try again until you hopefully find your way, or say nothing, do nothing and of course, never be controversial.

Now I am really interested to see how is she going to promote her gin. But you know what, I am not holding my breath, for some reason.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

almost lost you {s.h}

Plot: You're Steve Harrington's best friend so of course you're going to follow him into the depths of the lake and into the Upside Down. He's pissed that you've risked your life for him but when he sees that you're injured, your relationship shifts.

Character: Steve Harrington x Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings; MDNI, 18+, SMUT, NSFW, blood, wounds, gore, sex, soft sex

Word count: 11.6k

this is my favourite thing i've ever written

Of course you'd followed him down here, of course you weren't just going to leave your best friend to drown and/or be taken to the Upside Down and be killed. You were never a strong swimmer but you'd be damned if you weren't going to save that stupid boy. Reacting on blind adrenaline, you abandon your jacket in the boat, grab an oar and then you dive into the lake.

The water is freezing, prickling your skin like needles, but you barely register it. You have to get to him. It's a lot deeper than you expected and by the time you reach the red, glowing gate your lungs burn for sweet oxygen. Grimacing, your hand reaches out, pushing through the fleshy gate before you push your entire self through and all you can think in that moment is that you hope there's no more swimming involved.

Your back hits cold hard ground as you lay there gasping for air, thankfully no more water. You'd landed on concrete. It doesn't take long before you jump up, dripping wet and undeniably in the Upside Down, and start hitting everything in sight. They were like bats with big wings and long tails and they swarm you. You whack them with everything you have before they break away and then you see Steve a few metres away. He's being choked, strangled by one of the bat's tails, arms and legs flailing to find something to get it off of him. You spring into action, barrelling over to the bat and hitting with all of the strength you could muster. Bats swarm and attack you with teeth like razors slicing into your skin but you couldn't care about that now. You have to help Steve. With a final thwack! the bat that had been strangling him dropped down, releasing Steve's neck. It lay on the ground, twitching and making a faint screeching noise so you whack it a few more times making sure it's finally dead before dropping to Steve, "Are you okay?!"

"I told you not to follow me!" His voice is a croaky yell as he pants hard, "You shouldn't be in here! Not you!"

"You think I'm not going to follow you into the depths of hell? Oh, Harrington, we're too far into this friendship for that. I'd follow you to Mordor." He rolls his eyes at your Lord of the Rings reference, far too used to you and your nerdy comments.

"It's too dangerous-" he cuts himself off, realising that blood dribbles from various cuts on your arms, "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine," you tell him strongly and honestly you do feel fine. The adrenaline is coursing around your body and right now, you don't feel any of the wounds, "I'm fine. They're just scratches." He accepts this, leaning back to take deep breaths as the rest of your friends appear each more horrified than the last (Eddie's last to come and judging by his scream of 'what the fucking shit is this?!' you can tell he's pretty freaked), "Can you stand?"

He nods and with your outstretched hand, you help him up. Once he's up, he looks around, "You all came down?"

Eddie runs his hands through his wild curls, "Dude, they all came down and I didn't want to be the only one not here."

The five of you look around. It's terrifying down here. The whole place looks familiar but it just feels off; uncanny valley or whatever they call it. It looks like Hawkins but an evil version of it. The sky crackles above you, lightning and thunder casting an eerie red glow over the Upside Down town. You look to the ground and see that the tendrils, the long fleshy veins, are everywhere.

"Be careful where you step," Nancy says, "it's a hivemind so it's all connected. You step on it, it knows we're here." Everyone knows it's more so pointed at Robin who can never seem to keep her balance even when standing perfectly still.

Robin nods, "I can do that," she murmurs to herself as the five of you begin to walk in the direction of the Creel House. You don't know who she's trying to convince more; the four of you or herself.

There's an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Steve's shoulder brushes yours and you immediately feel the dread die down for a moment. You breathe in a deep breath and puff out your chest as you continue walking.

As the lot of you tread through the Upside Down, you begin to feel slightly hazy, just around the edges at first as though you've just woken up and you're trying to shake off the tired and then it wrapped you up all at once. One minute you're beside him and the next, you've dropped to the floor, eyes rolling. Steve yells out, alerting his friends, as he falls beside you, hands on your cheeks. He's shouting your name, shaking you when he realises that your jeans at the thigh are dark and wet... you're bleeding. He pulls back the fabric and sees a large bite wound. He'd known you'd gotten scratched but you'd told him it was fine, not sore and not deep. He mentally curses you.

"I can help," Nancy says quickly as she rips her shirt, pulling a thick part of fabric off, "Move out the way and I'll bandage her leg."

Steve shakes his head, "I have to do it." He can't lose you; he has to be the one who saves you. He has to be the one to do it. He keeps talking to you, asking if you can hear him but you're not waking up. Panic surges inside of him, heart beating quicker as he stares down at you. Why aren't you waking up?

His hands are clumsy and shaking as Nancy hands him the piece of fabric from her now ripped shirt. Four years into this and they'd still never thought to bring a first aid kit wherever they went. The ripped cloth of the t-shirt would have to do and once tied tight, it would at least apply pressure and hopefully stop the bleeding. Steve's eyes dart to your face, scanning your face to see if you're awake. He's talking to you the whole time, panicked and adrenaline fuelled sentences that he doesn't remember.

"You gotta open your eyes, (y/n). Show me those pretty eyes."

"You think I'm really worth all this fuss?"

"You just had to follow me in here, didn't you?"

"I need you to open your eyes and speak to me, (y/n). I need to know that you're okay. Please."

"Please don't leave me."

You can hear him but it's all fuzzy. It sounds like you're underwater, he sounds far away. It feels peaceful but you fight and you fight hard. It takes every bit of strength you have to open your eyelids which feel like they're weighted down, it's brief but it's good enough. He breathes a sigh of relief as he sees your eyes fluttering, you're alive but you're slipping in and out of consciousness, world feeling hazy as you lay on the ground.

"Hey," he says, voice loud enough to wake you up but quiet enough that the rest of the group wouldn't hear, "you gotta keep those pretty eyes open for me, (y/n)."

You blink up at him, wiggling your fingers as the sensations of your body flood back to you, the pain floods back hitting hard and making you groan out. Steve asks if you're okay and all you can respond with is, "M'awake."

"Keep it that way." He holds up the makeshift bandage, "This is gonna hurt."

You're all banged up, covered in cuts scrapes and bites but the bite on your leg is the worst. Between the two of you, you're able to peel back the ripped jeans on your thigh to expose the bleeding wound. Steve grimaces, "That good, huh?" He doesn't respond and instead pulls the fabric around your leg tightly. You wince, hissing out in pain but you let him continue as he tries his hardest to be gentle by wrapping it tightly around your thigh before tying it tight. The pain from your wound is forcing you to be awake and conscious, sending streams of curse words out of your mouth. It hurts and it hurts bad, it burns and stings with every movement. Your whole body wants to sleep but the wound pulsing under the bandage won't let you and you're thankful for it. One of his hands is on your arm, never wanting to part with you, and all he can do is watch as you breathe hard, teeth grit, as you manage to sit up.

"Motherfucker," you hiss, "that hurts worse than that time I catapulted off the wall up behind Benny's and landed on that rock."

Despite everything, he manages a small smile and a breath of laughter, "Your mom never forgave me for that one even though it was your idea." He glances down at your leg, looking at the bloodied cloth, "That should hopefully stop the bleeding."

Nancy glances into the sky and realises that the bats are coming back and there are hoards of them this time, "Uh, guys?" She asks, voice tense.

Steve looks over at her and then follows her gaze upwards. Fuck. You do it too and you know that there's no time. You have to move. All you want to do right now is curl into a ball in bed - in Steve's bed - like that one time when you drunk and you fell asleep wrapped up together cause that's just what friends do, right?

"I'm okay," you tell him nodding and just like Robin not long ago, you don't know who you're trying to convince more, "just... help me up will you?"

Steve's strong hands pull you up and immediately wrap you in a tight hug, "Don't ever do that to me again," he huffs breath tickling your neck, "I thought I was about to lose you."

"You can't get rid of me that easy, Harrington." You thought that joking would help the situation but no, if anything it made him worse. He's shaking; absolutely terrified from the ordeal of thinking he'd lost you. He pulled back, heart hammering in his chest, as he stares down at his hands that are smeared with your blood. His eyes are glassy and he looks like he's about to cry. You take a breath, taking his hands in yours, "Hey," you whisper, forcing his attention away from his hands and to you instead, "I'm here, okay? I'm alright; bruised and bloodied but I'm alive, Steve, okay?"

"I can't lose you." It's an admission of some sort, not a full blown 'I love you' but it's pretty damn close. It makes your heart race and all you can do is hug him again, pulling him in tight. For a moment, just a moment, everything faded away around the two of you and you could close your eyes and pretend that everything's okay.

The moment's over all too soon when Nancy clears her throat from up ahead. You look over to her and she gives you an apologetic smile. It's time to go.

"Out of the frying pan," you say, taking Steve's hand tightly.

"And into the fire."

Walking isn't an easy task, you're slow and unsteady and with every step, you want to yell out in pain. Steve stays at your side, supporting you as much as he can, "I could carry you, you know... At the very least just a piggy back ride." You're holding everyone up and there's not enough time to let you go at your own pace, you have to move quicker but each time you try, the pain burns stronger.

Quickly, you shake your head, "Over my dead body."

"Yeah, well it might have to be if you're walking this damn slow," he snaps half serious, "Seriously, (y/n), let me lift you."

You push back from him. It's been years since someone picked you up, last time someone did they commented on how heavy you were and how you should think about losing some weight. You were humiliated that day so never again. You had a complicated relationship with your body, in some things you really liked the way your body filled out clothes, in other aspects you hated it. It wasn't a secret that you were fat, people had eyes and they could see it obviously, but it's like when your friend has a very obvious massive red spot on their face - you see it but you just don't speak about it. You don't voice things that could very well be an insecurity for some people.

"Steve, I- I'm too heavy." You feel pathetic as you say it and you can't look at him. You hate that you still have these worries and insecurities but after years of society telling you how you should look of course it had an impact on you.

Steve stops.

He ducks his head to look at you with sad eyes. He hates that you're ashamed of yourself in this way when in his eyes you're absolutely perfect. "Let me help you, (y/n), please," he says quietly so the others don't hear, "You won't hurt me, you're not too heavy, I'm strong and I can get us there faster... It'll help your leg, it'll let you rest it even for a while."

"You're not going to... to laugh at me for how heavy I am?"

Something bubbles up inside him in that moment and all he wants to do is wrap you up and keep you away from all the bad things in life. My god, he wants to kiss those insecurities away, make you realise that you're the prettiest goddamn girl in the world. No one comes close. He shakes his head, strands of his perfect hair falling out of place, and he takes one of your hands, "I'd never do that. You're not going to be heavy for me just let me help you."

If it had to be someone, you would've picked Steve so with a sigh, you relent and he crouches so that you can jump onto his back. You almost forget about the pain in your leg as the nerves burn hard in the pit of your stomach. He lifts you with a surprising amount of ease, jumping to readjust you so that his hand isn't anywhere near your injured leg, "Comfy?" He asks as he starts walking.

"If I'm too heavy you can just put me down, it's okay. I'll walk faster, you don't have to-"

"(y/n)," he cuts over your rambling, "I've got you, don't worry. Just take a breath and chill out for a bit." He begins to walk and catches up with the group on their path to the Creel House. Nancy and Robin glance at you both before catching the other's eye and giving the other a knowing smile.

You bury your head in the crook of Steve's neck, breathing long and deep. Steve can't think straight. All he can focus on is the way your breath is hot against his cool skin and the way your lips gently graze his neck with every step. The feelings that he thought he'd buried down long ago burn violently under the surface. Dustin would be screaming 'I told you so' if he was here right now. For years Dustin had been trying to get Steve to realise the true nature of his feelings for you and finally, fucking finally, it was happening. He shakes his head, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart when your lips graze his skin, and instead he tries to focus on the task at hand.

Everything's over, it's done... at least for now.

You manage to get back to Steve's house in one piece, the five of you traumatised and dirty. Steve's house was empty as usual, his parents both working out of state, so the five of you crowded in Steve's car, Steve driving and you in the passenger seat with his hand in yours. The five of you cram into Steve's car, bloodied and bruised and knackered but you're all alive. Steve drives through Hawkins but his focus is entirely on you. Since your injuries, he hadn't stopped touching you; holding your hand, arms wrapped around you... He had to keep touching you, had to keep reminding himself that you were okay. Every now and then, his thumb brushes over the bloodied skin of your hand. Dustin, Lucas and Max had radioed a while back to say that they got home okay, they'd nearly been caught by police but managed to escape so it was just a straight drive to Steve's. It felt strange being back in Hawkins. You hadn't been away for too long in the Upside Down but returning as though life was normal was a weird one. Things weren't normal; things were pretty fucking strange.

As the five of you enter Steve's house, Nancy darts off to the phone. She'll be trying to get a hold of Jonathan. Eddie asks if Steve's got any beer, Steve points him in the direction of the kitchen and Robin follows in search for food.

It's just you and Steve standing in the hallway.

"How's your leg?" He asks you.

"Fucking killer," you frown, looking down at the bloodied state of your jeans. You hadn't realised just how much you'd bled with being in the tinted red Upside Down since it was kind of hard to see but now it was a stark contrast against your light blue jeans even in the darkness of the night.

"You wanna go shower first?"

You nod quickly. The thought of a shower appeals to you, being able to wash off the dirt, grime and blood and getting to properly clean your wound, oh it sounds like bliss. The only thing that halts you - as you attempt to very slowly climb the stairs - is that Steve obviously won't be in there with you. For the entirety of the night, since jumping into the lake and heading into the Upside Down, Steve had been by your side, constantly touching you in some way, and now... you weren't ready for that to stop. Things had changed, things that you weren't sure you could keep a secret for much longer, and you weren't ready to be apart from him, not yet; not ever.

You glance back at him and he seems to know what you're thinking. He can tell by the panicked look in your eye and he quickly nods and says, "I'll be right outside the door, I promise."

He helps you as much as he can upstairs, holding you up while you hiss and curse in agony as pains shoot up your leg, and helps you into his bedroom. He raids his closet and finds an old jersey of his, it's big and baggy and it'll definitely fit you, before he grabs a pair of stretchy gym shorts from his closet, "Here," he says as he hands you it, "change into these and we'll wash your clothes. We'll get everyone's stuff washed actually."

You're quiet as you nod and pad slowly back to the bathroom, Steve behind you. He slides down the wall, sitting on the floor just to the left of the bathroom door, "I'll wait here, take as long as you need." You're hesitant to leave him but you know that there's no way around this so you thank him and close the door behind you. As soon as you're in the bathroom, you want to turn back and find comfort in his arms but you force yourself to move forwards towards the shower. You have no other choice but to shower, you need to get cleaned up and you'd already prolonged that for long enough.

Stripping off your clothes is harder than you thought it was going to be, they're stuck to you, stuck to your skin from dampness, sweat and blood. You manage to peel your t-shirt off before chucking it to the floor. You take a breath as your hands work gently to untie the makeshift bandage around your leg. You curse loudly and Steve's calling out after you, asking if you're alright.

"Fine," your voice is tense as you try and breathe the pain away, "just getting these stupid jeans off. Leg's agony."

"Once you're cleaned I'll get the first aid kit and patch you up, give you painkillers too." He wishes that he could do more, that it could've been him instead of you that got badly hurt but there's nothing he can do now. All he can do is try and help you be comfortable.

"Can you talk to me about something? I need a distraction so I can pull these jeans off."

Immediately, he straightens and starts talking to you about the time in sixth grade when William Denver got a pencil lodged in his ear after a dare gone wrong. It was the distraction you needed as you managed to pull your jeans down with some ease and some pain. You stay standing for a minute just listening to him talking, it's nice; he's nice. You like that he didn't even question it, he just produced a memory from random and started rambling about it. He never made you feel silly or like you were asking for too much, he just did whatever you needed him to.

"Steve?" You say after a minute .

"Yeah?"

"You can stop talking, I did it."

"How does the wound look?"

"Gonna be honest, Harrington, I'm not fucking looking at it." It was the truth. You don't want to look at the wound, not yet. You'll wait until it was clean to do that. If you look now, you'd freak out so instead, you climb into the shower and almost instantly, you feel a million times better.

As Steve sat outside, scraping blood from under his nails, he couldn't get something that Eddie had said to him out of his head.

"It was (y/n), dude. As soon as you were pulled under, she was off like a shot. I've never seen anyone move that fast. She didn't even think about it, just dove in straight after you... You've got a good one there, dude. Can tell she really loves you."

Was that true? Did you love him? The questions whirred around Steve's mind and it was all he could focus on, nothing else except you. Things had changed and it was obvious, even to the two of you.

The water is hot but not too hot that it hurts. You stand in the shower just letting the water rush over you for what feels like forever, you're just enjoying avoiding looking at the bottom of the bathtub. When you finally look, it shocks you that it's still red, that there's still so much blood and grime on your skin that it's still turning the running water red. It makes your stomach flip and makes your eyes fill with tears. You'd hoped that by the time you opened your eyes, the only reminder about what happened that night would be the bite on your leg but when you open your eyes, the reminder is still all over you. You're still caked with dirt and blood, sticking to each and every crevice of you. With outstretched hands, you steady yourself against the wall as the reality of the whole situation hits you. It hits you hard from Steve choking to you passing out to the piggy back to the events in the Creel house... it all hits you like a train and you can't hold back the sobs that wrack your body. All you want to do is curl up and cry and sleep and pretend everything was normal.

It's too much. It's all too much. Steve was used to this life but you weren't, he'd always kept you safe from this world and now here you were, standing in the shower covered in blood; your blood, your friends blood and strange creature's blood. Bile rose in your throat as you desperately try and calm down. Your whole body is shaking as reality hits you, the adrenaline from diving into the lake to save your best friend stayed in the Upside Down, it didn't come back. You don't feel brave anymore but instead weak and scared.

Steve hears you. He can hear the sobs that come from you though drowned out by the shower but he hears and it breaks his heart. He looks at his hands which have dried blood coating them; your blood. He knows the feeling that's crashing over you, he knows how intense and overwhelming those moments are so he does the only thing he can do. He begins to talk loudly so that you can hear him over the noise of the shower, he doesn't know what he's talking about, he's just talking. He needs to fill the space, needs you to concentrate on something other than the panic and dread that's nestled and made its home so very deep inside of you.

You frown as you try and control your crying to listen. He's rambling about the time in eighth grade when he decided to skateboard off of the top of his garage and he ended up with a broken ankle. Rambling about how freaked out he was seeing the blood and the bone and how calm you were, about how you calmed him down told him that he'd be okay. You were the one who calmed him down with jokes in the ambulance ride to hospital and when they told him he'd need surgery, it was you who made him feel better by saying he'd have such a cool scar. It was you who waited hours on him coming out even despite your mom not being happy since it was a school night. It was you who visited first. It was you who signed his cast first.

"You've always been the strong one, (y/n). Always been the one to help me out... Always been you."

You'd been so focused on listening that your body worked in autopilot, scrubbing your skin hard of all of the grime and blood and when he was finished, you realised that you were almost done too. You catch a glance or two at your thigh, the wound is angry and red and it's deep but it's not as bad as it once looked. You scrub your nails furiously, trying to get the blood that's jammed under them out, before turning the water off.

You can hear him talking to someone outside the door, it sounds like Robin. You dry yourself off, careful not to irritate your thigh too much, before pulling on his jersey and shorts. They fit and they fit baggy which surprises you. They must've been huge on Steve. You wipe the steamed up mirror to look at the blurry vision of you. You like it, you like wearing his clothes. They smell like him, a mixture of cologne, pine and vanilla. You love that smell.

It's not much longer before he's knocking on the door, "You alright?"

You don't reply and instead just open the door. He almost can't function as you stand there in his clothes. It's an old jersey and shorts but oh my god, you make them look incredible. Something within him stirs, something possessive and feral inside of him but it's forgotten about after a second when you ask him if he's alright, "You're just staring at me, you good?" You feel self-conscious under his gaze because he's never looked at you like that before, at least not that you've been aware of. You shift in his jersey, self-consciously tugging at the hem to pull it down so it wasn't clinging to your stomach.

"I, uh, yeah. I'm fine." He nods quickly, "Robin came up a couple minutes ago. Her and Nancy are gonna use the downstairs shower so pointed them in the direction of my mom's closet for clothes. Eddie's just showered and is wandering about in his boxers so just don't look." You manage a small smile, "She says that Nancy's making some food if you wanted to go down-" He sees the absolute look of terror in your eyes, "Or you can wait here for me coming out the shower?" You nod quickly, "Okay, that's fine. I'll try to not take too long." He smiles knowing that you don't want to be away from him, he doesn't want to be away from you either. He grabs himself a clean towel and something to change into before disappearing into the hot and steamy bathroom.

You awkwardly manage to slide down the wall without irritating your leg too much as you wait for him to finish. You try and shut your mind off, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts for any longer than necessary, so you distract yourself with any means necessary.

You think back to when you and Steve were twelve and had thrown a party for the two of you in your basement. You'd stolen your dad's old records as the two of you danced around, wired to the moon on sugar and candy. A song had come on, Life On Mars - David Bowie, and the two of you were in total amazement. It swiftly became 'your song' as Steve dubbed it. It wasn't romantic like most couples songs were but it was a song that the two of you would dance around the room and sing loudly in the car to. You began to hum it quietly to yourself trying to stay focused in the memory of that silly party the two of you threw.

He doesn't take too long but it's been long enough when it hits the fifteen minute mark. You feel on edge. You know that he's just on the other side of the door but you don't feel right knowing that he's not there beside you. Your hands fidget nervously with the hem of the jersey as you breathe in his scent from it to keep calm. You long abandoned humming David Bowie as after five minutes, you were driving yourself insane, and instead spent the last ten minutes with your eyes squeezed shut head pressed back against the wall as you try and calm the rising panic.

The door swings open a few minutes later and there he is, standing there freshly cleaned and washed with his sopping wet hair still looking perfect and a clean t-shirt and shorts on. You reach out for him to help you up and when he does, you throw your arms around him tightly. You need to feel him, need to know he's okay and he's safe. He seems to need this embrace as much as you do as he responds by tightly pulling you against him, bodies flush against the other, warm and damp. His hands grip onto the fabric of your material as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, "I almost lost you," he breathes out. His voice is thick and you can tell that he's close to tears. He can't get over how close he came to losing you. It put everything into perspective for him then, made him realise that life was too short to continue pretending that there wasn't obviously something between the two of you.

"I almost lost you," you murmur as tears build in your eyes, lips once again grazing over the skin of his neck, "I saw you go under and I just- I didn't even think I just jumped in after you." Steve closed his eyes briefly, so what Eddie had told him was true.

It almost doesn't feel real what happened tonight. The whole thing, even this standing in the safe arms of Steve Harrington, it feels like you could blink and be back in the Upside Down so you cling to him and he clings back just as hard. Neither of you cry but the fact that you both welled up over nearly losing the other proved the point regardless.

It's not until you hear someone padding upstairs that the two of you break apart, though his hand holds yours, it's Nancy. She's wearing pyjamas that belonged to Steve's mom, loose and baggy on her, "Food's ready," her voice is quiet and her smile is apologetic knowing that she's just walked into something that she shouldn't be seeing.

Steve nods before he gathers yours and his clothes and then he leads you slowly downstairs to go and eat. Steve tells you that you'll eat then he'll patch your leg up. The smell hits you when you walk into the kitchen; pizza, chicken nuggets and fries. Nancy had raided the freezer and put on a feast for everyone. You didn't think you were hungry until you got there and saw the food. Steve bundles together everyone's clothes and chucks them into the washing machine, pouring a healthy amount of detergent in before turning it on. It's only then as the five of you crowd round the table, chairs squeaking as you pull them in, that you feel the hunger. You all eat in silence the only noise that can be heard is chewing and the grumble of the washing machine. Usually you didn't like eating in front of people, you got worried about what they'd think about your portion size or made a comment but right now you didn't care. With Steve's hand on your knee, you couldn't care about anything else right now. It doesn't take long before the food's finished and you're all guzzling on the water bottles that Nancy had placed on the table.

It's then that you look around the table, looking at everyone. Everyone's clean, smelling of vanilla body wash and coconut shampoo, with clean clothes that are a little loose and baggy (aside from Eddie who only wears boxers but he's wrapped the throw from the couch around himself) but the angry red scrapes, scratches and cuts that litter everyone's limbs are hard to hide. Nancy's managed to shower, change, cook dinner and even managed to treat hers, Robin's and Eddie's scrapes and cuts in the time it took you and Steve to shower. Impressive.

Once the food's finished, everyone scatters. No one really talks aside from their 'thank you's to Nancy. Steve gathers the plates up and puts them in the sink. You wait. He'll wash them in the morning he decides before moving to the counter where Nancy had left the first aid box. He grabs it and wiggles it in his hand, "You ready?"

You nod, "Let's get it over with."

He kneels down in front of you as you sit in the chair, "Can I?" He asks as he nods to the shorts you're wearing. You nod. Robin walks into the kitchen and quickly backs away, the scene unfolding far too intimate for anyone else to see. She warns Nancy and Eddie to stay away. Steve hands are gentle as he rolls your shorts upwards to get to your mid thigh. It's then you both get a good look at your wound. It's angry and raw but it looks better. The bleeding stopped a while ago so that's a good sign. Still hurts like hell though.

He rummages through the first aid box, finding a wipe and a large plaster, "It's gonna hurt." He tells you as he tears open the antiseptic wipe. You nod quickly and with a tender hand, he cleans it. It stings and burns but you aren't focusing on the cut, you're looking at Steve. You're looking at the way his hair falls into his vision and he blows it away with an upwards puff of air. You're watching the way his brow furrows in concentration as he gnaws on his lower lip making sure to not cause any further harm to you.

He grabs stuff to dress it with, glancing up at you, doing a double take when he realises that you're staring at him, "I'm not hurting you am I?"

You shake your head, "No, you're fine."

He goes back to gently dressing your wound and before you know it, he's finished. You go to pull away but Steve reaches out, "You forgot the most crucial part of patching up a wound," he chides, that playful tone once again back where it belongs. You frown but before you can ask what he means, his head ducks low and his lips graze the skin above the dressing. It's so soft and gentle that you wouldn't have known he'd done it had you not been staring at him with wide eyes. Where he kisses feels hot but not from the wound rather from him. Your heart beats fast in your chest and your cheeks feel like they're on fire, "There." His breath tickles over your skin. He lingers for a few seconds, too long for a friend, before he pulls back and stands up leaving you sitting there absolutely stunned.

He smirks as he turns away from you, discarding the empty wrappers in the bin, he knows what he's doing to you. Hope burns strong inside him, hope that maybe this is it; this is his chance, your chance. When he turns around you tell him to sit down, "Mine are fine," he says with a shake of the head, "not as bad as yours."

"So?" You ask with a raised brow, "Sit."

He complies.

You grab some plasters that were at the bottom of the box which happen to be some yellow and red plasters with various wild animals on them. Steve laughs slightly, "Seriously?" He asks as you grab a wipe to clean him.

"It's the only plasters you've got, not my fault Harrington."

He rolls his eyes but humours you and lets you dab his cuts carefully before sticking down the plasters. You only plaster the ones that are deeper so he ends up with some on his arms and one on his left temple. He goes to stand up, "Wait," you tell him fighting off a smirk, "you forgot the most crucial part of patching up a wound." His eyes widen slightly and his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. Two can play at your game, Harrington. Slowly, you duck your head to press gentle kisses to the cuts on his arms, lips lingering just as his did. Steve swallows hard. It's taking everything to control himself right now and even then, he's barely controlling himself. He can't stop thinking about the way your lips feel, soft and warm on his skin, and he can't stop thinking about how they'd feel against his own.

Your heart is beating harder but you don't let it show as you lean in close to him. Steve's eyes are trained on you, never wavering, entirely focused on your next move. You press a gentle kiss to his temple, your hand rests on his knee for leverage. Steve swallows hard again and you secretly smile knowing that you're having some form of effect on him. He can smell you, smell the shampoo in your hair that he uses, he can smell his jersey on you and he loves that he can smell himself on you. Again, that primal urge rises in him but he pushes it away as you lean back and sit back down in your chair.

"Uh... thanks," he says as he clears his throat. You like seeing him like this, flustered and flushed, "How's it feel?" He asks referring to your wound.

"Better." Your cheeks feel hot as you replay the moment of him kissing your thigh over and over in your head. He stands up and takes your hand before slowly leading you out of the kitchen and into the living room. You like the way his hand feels in yours, warm and large.

Eddie's set up camp for the night there, laying on the couch under a blanket with a cushion shoved under his head. Robin's curled in the armchair almost half asleep but Steve taps her leg and tells her to go to the guest room, Nancy too who was coming downstairs carrying blankets. Without a word, the two girls nod and head upstairs.

You and Steve aren't far behind them, following them up after he locks the door. There's no question of where you're sleeping, not an utterance of a word about it, instead it's just quiet acceptance. He makes sure that Nancy and Robin are comfortable before leading you into his bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.

Nerves bubble in your stomach. It's different. You've been in Steve's room hundreds of times over the years of being friends. You'd slept in this room plenty before too on duvets on the floor and once in his bed curled up with him after a drunken party. This time though... it feels different. It doesn't feel like sleeping over with a friend because well, he's not a friend anymore. You aren't sure how he feels about you but you know that this isn't how friends treat each other. You don't want to get your hopes up just in case but they're there, niggling under the surface of your skin.

It's only when you're in his room with the door closed, you're unsure what to do next. Steve's not shy and he knows exactly where you're going to be. He walks to his side of the bed and lifts the duvet to get in, "Well?" He asks, "Hurry up and get in here."

He doesn't need to tell you twice.

Your heart beats fast as you climb into bed beside him. The bed smells like him, it smells like home. Steve watches you the whole time, the words he wants to say are right there on the tip of his tongue, locked behind his teeth but he's not feeling brave anymore so he stays silent. There's a certain tension in the air that you both feel as you lie on your sides, facing each other. Your heart hammers in your chest as your mind whirs with the possibilities of what might be.

The moon seems to be right outside of Steve's open windows, shining in bright so that you can see him, he's a duller and darker version in this light but he's still Steve; your Steve. You look up at him from behind long lashes and you find his eyes boring into yours, roaming and searching, looking for an answer to the question that he hasn't asked. It seems to click then, to both of you, that this was something more than what is once was or maybe this is way it always had been but it was only now you were realising it. He shifts closer and you do too as his eyes switch from your lips to your eyes. The burning desire to kiss someone has never been this strong before.

All you can hear is the beat of your heart in your ears like a drum, faster and faster, as you inch closer to him. He finds one of your hands lost under the sheets and takes it, clasping your fingers together tightly. It's then when you look up and realise that you're almost pressed together. Steve swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, as his breath tickles over your face.

It happens.

You're not sure who moved in first, it was more like a joint effort to meet in the middle. Your eyes flutter shut as Steve closes the gap between your lips, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It's a small kiss, gentle and it doesn't last long but in that moment, everything slots together and you feel like everything's right again. He's testing the waters with this kiss, keeps it short and sweet before he pulls back a few centimetres, eyes scanning your face for some kind of regret or negativity but he doesn't find it.

Your mind reels from the fact that you and Steve just kissed. Your stomach is a jumble of nerves overlapping each other and writhing deep in the pit of your stomach. That few seconds where you're just staring at each other, eyes searching for confirmation, seemed to solidify something for the two of you, a silent agreement, consent and before you knew it, it was a push and a pull of bodies. Your free hand tangles in his shirt, pulling him close as his pulls you in at the waist.

No other kiss has ever felt like this one. It's fast and hard, smashing of lips and clashing tongues. It's hungry and passionate, it's a 'finally' moment, a breath of fresh air, a breath of relief. You've never been kissed like this before; never been kissed with such intensity and passion behind it. He kisses you like it means something because to him, it does; it means everything.

With a swift kick, he shoves the sheets to the floor where they gather in a pile. He rolls you onto your back and shifts without breaking the kiss so that he's over you, hands on either side of your head as you kiss. His knee moves between your legs, parting them, and pushing upwards. You gasp, breaking the kiss, at the sudden friction between your legs.

He snaps back.

His eyes roam your face again as your brow furrows. He worries that he's gone too far, moved too fast, but you grab a handful of his cotton shirt and pull him back down to kiss you. There's a new found confidence within you, allowing you to grab him and kiss him which you wouldn't have done before, you kiss him hard and he seems to get the hint that you want this, that you want him.

You almost feel like you need to be pinched, like at any moment you're going to open your eyes and you'll be somewhere else; that this is all a dream. For years, you'd had a crush on him but you thought it would always just be a secret and never be reciprocated but here he is, kissing you as though his goddamn life depends on it. You. He's kissing you. If 14 year old you could see you now. Well maybe not the scenes that would unfold in the next few minutes but my god, it would be the biggest confidence boost knowing that you, despite your weight and despite your size, would have Steve Harrington fawning over you. It felt good to be wanted, it felt right.

Soon the kiss turns needy and desperate as heat pools between your legs. Your hips push downwards into his knee trying to feel the friction through the cotton shorts that you wear. Steve's lips pull away from yours, extracting an audible whine from you, as he moves to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. He kisses everywhere, peppering small kisses on the soft skin before finding the spot on your neck that makes your gasp and makes your back arch. His hands are on your sides, dancing the hem of the jersey you wear up, and it's then it kicks in. Your hand darts out to catch his, stopping it in its place.

He stops.

"Am I going too fast- dammit, shit, sorry, sweetheart. I-I got carried away-"

You shush his worries and cut off his rambling before you answer him softly, "Self-conscious." Your voice is a mere whisper and Steve's face immediately softens. You'd never really had anyone touch you like this, with so much care and love and it makes you so aware of all of your imperfections. The worry that sits in the back of your mind, too, is that you know Steve's dating history; tiny, petite and pretty girls... Not you. Not fat and curvy and lumpy. Steve's eyes bore into yours and he can see your worries, sitting so openly and plainly in front of him.

"Baby," he murmurs, hand trailing fire over your cheek as he caresses it, "I think you're perfect." You look in his eyes and you know that there's a decade of trust there, a decade of friendship and loyalty, a decade of love, "You don't have to hide from me." You're still not quite there so Steve continues, "Your body, your smile, your laugh; you are perfect to me, (y/n). Beautiful. Your weight and size doesn't make you any less so... I want you, (y/n). Why do you think I only gave you my clothes to wear? I only want you, no one else." You hadn't thought about why you were the only one wearing Steve's clothes. It hadn't really clicked to be honest. He'd sent Robin and Nancy to his mom's closet, Eddie chose to be half naked, and you were the only one wearing Steve's clothes. It was such an honest, sweet, possessive action that it made the heat burn between your legs.

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the side of your jaw, then another and another before he pulls back, "You want me to stop?"

You shake your head.

"Speak up, babygirl."

"Don't stop," you whisper, "I want you... Fuck, Steve, I need you." Hearing you say it makes his cock twitch in his shorts. It doesn't take much until he's rock hard, pressing against your thigh as he kisses you again, hot and heavy.

His hands resume sliding under your shirt, over the lumps and bumps and curves of your stomach and sides until they find your bare breast, heading straight for your hard nipple. His thumb grazes over it, extracting a soft moan from your parted lips. Steve moans into your neck at the sound of you, "God," he groans, "you even sound so fucking pretty."

Your whole body feels hot, feels like you're burning a fever but in the best way possible, "Take it off," you get a moment of bravery as you push him back and pull off of the jersey, throwing it across the room where it bundles in a pile at the wardrobe. You hoist your lower half up and rather ungracefully tear off your shorts and throw them over to where the jersey resides on the floor. Thankfully Steve was to preoccupied with taking his shirt off to see.

It was when he looked back down at you, ready to move in to kiss your breast, that he stopped.

"Holy fuck, baby."

He looks at you like you're the only thing of importance in the world. The way he stares at you, drinking in your body, your curves, your stretchmarks, it makes you shift and wriggle awkwardly. The way that he looks at you, you've never had anyone look at you like that before. His gaze is so awe-filled and you never want him to stop. He follows every line, every bump, every freckle, every blemish on your body until it leads back to your face and your eyes, "So goddamn pretty."

He bends his head, taking your nipple in his mouth tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, as his fingers press into your hips. The moans that he was pulling from you were like music to his ears, every moan and mewl making his cock twitch with anticipation. Every time you moan, he hums against your nipple. God he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing you or making you feel good. Your back arches and his hand slips over your stomach, groping the curve of it. You shiver and squirm but not because you're uncomfortable. His touch sends tingles down your spine and all across your soft, sensitive skin.

"Steve," you whisper out, back arching as his fingers push apart your thick thighs, "I- I- need you."

Steve growls against your skin, "Never thought I'd hear you say that, baby," he says against your skin before taking your nipple back in his mouth, tongue swirling and circling around it as his fingers trail down your thick thighs to your aching hot sex.

You've never had anyone touch you like this, your hand brushes against his and he stills, raising his head to look at you, "I've never... you know..." You're a virgin. He already knows it, just like you know that he's not and he's not been for a long time.

Steve nods, "I'll be gentle, babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth, "if it hurts or you want me to stop-"

"I'll tell you."

Steve grins, that half grin you love so much, before he attacks your neck again as his fingers continue their agonisingly slow dance down your thighs, "God," he moans into your neck as he hears the way your breath hitches in your throat, "you sound too fucking pretty. I want to hear you moan for me..." His fingers graze over your slick cunt and my god, you're soaked, "God, I want to do this right; I want to take my time with you but- I don't know how much longer I can go." His fingers part you and circle your sex until they brush over your clit.

Your eyes roll backwards as your back arches to a level you never knew possible and Steve grins at your reaction. He presses harder on your clit, pressing and circling lazy circles. Your body twists and convulses, overwhelmed by the new sensations that he's causing, your words are a jumble of moans and curse words crumbling beneath him and he's never witnessed anything so beautiful.

"J-Jesus, Steve-"

His hips involuntarily buck forwards, colliding with your thigh and his head falls as he groans, "Baby, you can't say my name like that," he hisses, "you'll make me- Jesus- I've never had that before- never had this. I'm so- so desperate for you and just hearing you, just seeing you like this is enough to make me- fuck." You love having that effect on him but he doesn't let you enjoy it for too long before a finger is pushing at your entrance. He searches your eyes and you nod as he coats it in your slick heat before slowly, his finger is being pushed inside of you.

You kiss him. Lips open and tongues swirling as he pushes inside of you, you moan against his mouth and he seems to understand what you want. He shifts and slowly pushes another finger into you and it isn't long until your hands are tugging at the sheets, his hair, nails digging into strong shoulders as you come undone beneath him. Your mind is a jumble of everything Steve. All those moments with Steve. The innocent laughter of kids, the secrets of teenagers, the awkwardness of young adults. The inside jokes, the teasing jibes, the playful roll of the eyes, the secret glances when you think he isn't look, his lovesick whenever you laugh.

Steve feels like he could finish right here, right now. Not even inside you and barely started. This moment had been in the works for years and now it was here, years of tension built up into a few lustful, passionate moments. He slips his fingers from you and immediately takes them in his mouth, tasting your natural tang on his tongue. He moans against them as he licks your wetness from them, "Fucking delicious, babygirl." He tugs his shorts down and looks down at you, "Shit, condom-"

"I'm on the pill, Steve," you pant, "we don't need it."

"Are you sure? We can stop-"

"Steve," you cut him off, leaning up on your elbows to give him a quick peck, "I'm sure."

He lines himself up and readies you for him to push into you. You gasp at his size and he gives you a few seconds to adjust before he checks if you're alright and want to continue. It's not sore, it's an unfamiliar sensation but it feels good. You nod to let Steve know you're ready to continue. His finger trails lazily down your thigh, avoiding your wounds, as he looks at you with teasing eyes.

"Words, please."

"More- God, more."

He complies, his pace slow and steady. It takes everything in his to not implode then and there in your slick warmth. It's all a bit of a blur, it feels like you're high or drunk, fuzzy around the edges and tingly. Steve's groaning into your neck, sounds that drive you crazy because my god how does he sound so fucking pretty too? Your legs are tight around him as he kisses you hard, pace quickening with every thrust. It doesn't feel like anything you'd experienced before. It's deep and makes your body squirm and shake, it makes noises you didn't know you could make escape from your throat; it makes you go wild.

"You feel so-" he groans, "so fucking good, babygirl."

The way he speaks to you, voice dark and dripping with lust, could easily tip you over the edge once more but you hang on, wanting to stretch it out just a little longer. Your eyes meet Steve's. You'd always wondered that if you and Steve did ever get together, would it be awkward? Would it be uncomfortable at first? You had your answer. It wasn't awkward, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt like how it should; it felt right. Like two pieces of a puzzle slotting together perfectly.

"Cum for me," Steve pants, peppering kisses all over your face, your neck, your shoulder. Your body involuntarily convulses, gasping at his words, "Cum for me, babygirl."

You couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. One second you're staring into Steve's eyes, the next you're tumbling into the blissful vortex of an orgasm, writhing and wriggling beneath him. The sensations overwhelm you; so much pleasure, so much build up and now you're unravelling at the seams for him; for Steve. Your eyes squeeze shut as your hands go between pulling at his hair to gripping his flesh with your nails, probably adding new cuts to his already bruised and battered body. The moans that come from you, jesus, he barely contains himself. The knowledge that he's the one making you feel this good, he's the one inside you, the one who's making you moan like that... he could explode inside you right now.

"Fucking hell, babygirl," he groans into your neck, "too fucking good, too fucking tight and pretty."

His thrusts slow as you come down from your high, allowing you some time to calm your racing heart and tingly limbs. Your breathing is erratic and you can't seem to form a single word or even a single thought but only Steve. Just Steve. Always Steve.

"I can't hold it, baby," he whispers, "you're too much; perfect but so- so fucking good." He means that you're too much in the highest of compliments. He could've came with just the sight of your naked body, hell just kissing you could've made him explode, the sound of you could've made it happen so the fact he's here, listening to you, touching you, kissing you, inside of you... it's so much; too much but he never wants it to stop. He wants it forever - wants you forever.

Slowly regaining some strength back, your hips rock into his. You're unsure of how to exactly do it but you know you're doing something right when he's cursing and gasping into your ear. The more he reacts, the more confidence you gain.

"Cum for me," you whisper in his ear just as he had done to you.

His moans make you shudder with excitement and it's not long before he's cursing and groaning loudly into your neck and the pillow you lay on, fist clenched around your hand. His thrusts grow quick and sloppy and you continue to talk him through it until he stills and shudders.

Pants fill the humid air as the two of you recover and fall down from your highs. It's a moment later when Steve slowly slides out of your warmth and slides off of you, falling onto the bed next to you. He doesn't give you any time to miss his touch because as soon as he's off of you, he's pulling you in at the waist and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

You don't know what it is, the rushing tsunami of emotions, the reality hitting you or just the whole day's overwhelming nature but you feel vulnerable in those few moments afterwards and instinctively, your hands scrabble for the sheet, pulling it half over yourself.

"Hey," Steve murmurs, one eye open, "you never have to hide from me again."

You curl into him, "I know... It's just... weird getting used to it." It doesn't feel awkward or uncomfortable or even weird. The only weird thing about it is how normal it feels. You settle into Steve's arms as you feel a question bubbling up inside of you. "How... How was it?" It's a question that you're unsure you want the answer to because what if he hated it? What if it was just okay? It's too late now anyway, the deed has been done and the question has been asked.

Steve pulls a long breath out, "I seriously mean this, babygirl... the best, most intense, most mindblowingly awesome sex I've ever had in my life. No joke. Seriously like-"

You find yourself laughing, cheeks burning and heart racing at the compliments he continued to pour out, "Okay, okay, stop, I get it! I'm the best sex you've ever had in your life and you'll never find anyone like me ever again-"

"I don't want anyone ever again." His mood turns serious, a snap of the fingers and all laughter is gone, "I only want you, (y/n)... This isn't a one-time thing for me." You look up at him and you see that expression back once again, sad and scared, "I almost lost you, (y/n). I'm never letting you go again."

Your heart skips a beat, "So what does that mean for us?"

"it means that I-" the words are right there, locked behind teeth but he doesn't feel brave anymore, "I can't lose you."

"I can't lose you either." It's as good as an admission goes. You know how he feels just like he knows how you feel for him but the two of you have been too brave for today and neither has any intrepidness left in you so you leave it at that. You'll tell him the true nature of your feelings at some point but not right now, not yet. So for now, it's enough and it isn't long before the darkness wraps its arms around you and pulls you to sleep.

Steve settles with you wrapped up around him. He's warm, almost too warm, but he's not letting go of you. He can't. With a deep breath, he does his best to block today's events in the Upside Down out of his mind and focuses on the sound of your breathing to help lull him to sleep.

The lot of you don't get up until well into the afternoon, bodies and minds equally as exhausted. Your body is sorer in the morning, achier and just plain tired, Steve thinks it's his fault and he keeps apologising profusely but kisses work wonders to soothe his worries.

"I'm just bruised and battered. Not from you, Steve. You can't ever hurt me."

When you and Steve finally emerge from downstairs, Nancy's on the phone to Jonathan, Robin's watching TV and Eddie's surprisingly making breakfast. He's quiet and his smile doesn't quite hit his eyes but he tries his best to lift spirits. When the two of you pass Robin, she gives you a warm smile - a knowing smile but not a teasing one. After the events of yesterday, there's no teasing, no jokes; it's a 'life is fucking short so get with the one you love immediately'.

Once more, you crowd around the breakfast table, a little livelier than last night but the bruises, cuts and dark circles under everyone's eyes tells a different story. Everyone's eyes have a darkness to them; a hollow emptiness after the trauma of last night. Eddie fills in the conversation where he can but even he isn't feeling up to it so the sound of silence is something that you've grown to be used to. Steve's hand doesn't leave your hand all morning, he still doesn't want to be away from you.

After breakfast, the five of you glance around at each other and there's a question that you all think but don't say. Steve finds himself answering, "You can all stay as long as you need. My parents won't be home for a week and-"

There's a group sigh of relief.

"Maybe just one more night," Nancy says, "until we can get a proper good night's sleep." She's always been so strong, so fearless but the fact that there's a slight tremor of fear in her voice is oddly comforting to you.

"Thank god because I wasn't going anywhere." Robin says as she finishes the last of her apple juice.

"Me either," Eddie says, "maybe we could extend the invite to Henderson and the rest of the little buddies."

As the rest of the group break off, with Eddie going to call Dustin and Nancy and Robin cleaning up, you and Steve move outside to sit by the pool. Steve's arm is tight around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace, "I love you." He's not feeling very brave today but he says it anyway. Life's too short, he learned that last night. So even despite his worries and fears, he had to tell you. Why not?

You press a kiss to his neck, smiling. See? Like two puzzle pieces slotting together. His confession makes you feel brave and makes you feel like you could tell him. Last night was a night of firsts; first time into the Upside Down, first time getting wounded, first time having sex so what's wrong with another first? First time telling someone that you love them; first time telling Steve. The boy who you thought was so far out of your league. Years ago you'd accepted your fate of just being friends but now? Now you were here, in his arms, so why the fuck would you let your fears stop you from taking the leap of faith?

"I love you, too." He presses a kiss to your forehead, smiling.

The two of you stay there, curled up together and smiling, until Dustin and crew get there and until Dustin yells at the top of his lungs, "I fucking knew it! Fifty bucks Harrington!"

[tenth-sentence]

He sighed as he looked at the gloomy ridges across the valley.

"The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine arriving at Dunharrow with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli.

Y/N falls in step with Aragorn, making their way to the ledge where Théoden watches over the camp.

Théoden: 'Six-thousand spears. Less than half of what I hoped for.'

Y/N: 'Six-thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor.'

Théoden: 'More will come.

Aragorn: 'Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat. We have till dawn, then we must ride.'

Théoden nods while Y/N sighs, turning to Legolas and Gimli. Feeling a prickle at the back of her neck, she glances at a narrow passageway between the mountain.

Legolas: 'The horses are restless and the men are quiet.'

Éomer: 'They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain.'

Y/N: 'And rightfully so.'

Gimli: 'That road there. Where does that lead?'

Legolas: 'It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain.'

Y/N nods.

Éomer: 'None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil.'

Y/N stares at the horse, whinnying in protest of being near the gap. She and Aragorn stare, feeling a slow pull into the dim valley.

They set up camp for night fall.

Y/N sits with Éomer, discussing tomorrow's ride to Gondor as Éowyn and Merry emerge out of a tent.

Éowyn: 'To the smithy! Go!'

Merry runs off and Éowyn and Y/N share a smile.

Éomer: 'You should not encourage him.'

Éowyn: 'You should not doubt him.'

Éomer: 'I do not doubt his heart, only the reach of his arm.'

Y/N stomps on Éomer's foot as Éomer and the other men chuckle.

Éowyn: 'Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you.'

Y/N: 'Why can he not fight for those he loves?'

Éomer stands, turning to face Éowyn. He puts a hand on her shoulder.

Éomer: 'You know as little of war as that Hobbit Éowyn. When the fear takes him, and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold. Do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee. And he would be right to do so.'

Y/N shakes her head and stands up.

Éomer: 'War is the province of men Éowyn.'

Y/N: 'And I suppose you have won more battles than I?'

Éomer bows his head, looking slightly remorseful.

Éomer: 'No, my lady.'

She narrowed her eyes at the blonde man before placing her hand on Éowyn's shoulder and whispering.

Y/N: 'Get some rest my lady. You will ride a long journey tomorrow.'

Y/N turns away, walking towards Aragorn's tent. She opens the tent flaps and she calls out.

Y/N: 'Someone will arrive soon.'

Aragorn bolts up with a knife in hand.

Y/N: 'Oh yes, very scary. Get up, we must go to King Théoden.'

Y/N strides to Théoden's tent, nodding at the king, waiting for Aragorn.

As Aragorn arrives Y/N sits down on the floor, cross legged.

Théoden: 'I take my leave.'

Elrond stands and reveals himself taking off his cloaked hood.

Aragorn: 'My lord Elrond.'

Elrond: 'I come on behalf of one whom I love. Arwen is dying. She will not long survive the evil that now spreads from Mordor. The light from the Evenstar is failing. As Sauron's power grows, her strength fails. Arwen's life is now tied to the fate of the ring.'

Y/N: 'The shadow is upon us Aragorn.'

Elrond: 'The end has come.'

Aragorn: 'It will not be our end, but his.'

Elrond: 'You ride to war, but not to victory. Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith, this you know. But in secret he sends another force which will attack from the river. A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the south. They'll be in the city in two days. You're out numbered Aragorn. You need more men.'

Aragorn: 'There are none.'

Y/N: 'There are those who dwell in the mountain.'

Aragorn looks at Y/N with wide eyes.

Aragorn: 'Murders, traitors. You would call upon them to fight? They believe in nothing. They will answer to noone.'

Elrond: 'They will answer to the King of Gondor.'

Elrond reveals Andúril, Aragorn's sword.

Elrond: 'Andúril, the Flame of the West. Forged from the shards of Narsil.'

Aragorn tentativly takes his sword.

Aragorn: 'Sauron will not have forgotten the Sword of Elendil.'

He unsheathes the sword and Y/N smiles proudly.

Y/N: 'The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith.'

Elrond: 'The man that can wield this sword can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth. Put aside the ranger. Become who you were born to be. Take the Dimholt road.

Ónen i-Estel Edain. (I give hope to men)'

Aragorn: 'Ú-chebin estel anim (I keep none for myself)'

They prepare to leave for the Dimholt road.

Aragorn: 'No jokes for us tonight?'

Y/N: 'Not tonight. This is no laughing matter Aragorn. Also I really hate caves. I hate hate hate caves...'

Éowyn power walks to the duo.

Éowyn: 'Why are you doing this? The war lies to the east. You cannot leave on the eve of battle.'

Y/N shrugs and looks at Aragorn.

Éowyn: 'You cannot abandon the men.'

Aragorn: 'Éowyn...'

Éowyn turns to Y/N.

Éowyn: 'We need you both here.'

Y/N: 'Dont bring me into this.

Y/N raises both her hands as if surrendering.

Aragorn: 'Why have you come?'

Éowyn whispers to Aragorn.

Éowyn: 'Do you not know?'

Aragorn: 'It is but a shadow and a thought that you love.'

Y/N: 'Harsh...'

Aragorn: 'I cannot give you what you seek.'

Éowyn tears up.

Aragorn: 'I have wished you joy since the first I saw you.'

Y/N pats Éowyn on the shoulder before leading her horse to the edge of camp. Aragorn following her.

Gimli: 'And just where do you think you lot are off to?'

Aragorn: 'Not this time. This time you must stay Gimli.'

Gimli: 'Hm'

Legolas: 'Have you learnt nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?'

Gimli: 'Might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie.'

Y/N laughs and pats Gimli on the shoulder, turning to give Legolas a wink.

The group rides to the Dimholt road, Y/N stays behind to tell Théoden the plan.

Gaming: 'They leave because there is no hope.

Théoden: 'They leaves because they must.'

Gamling: 'Too few have come. We cannot defeat the armies of Mordor.'

Théoden: 'No, we cannot. But we will meet them in battle nonetheless.'

Y/N: 'There is always hope. You must ride at dawn. We will meet you there. Trust in him. Trust in me.'

Y/N nods at Théoden before rearing her horse to follow Aragorn in a trot.

Gimli: 'What kind of army would linger in such a place?'

Legolas: 'One that is cursed. Long ago the men of the mountain swore an oath, to the last king of Gondor. To come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled. Vanishing into the darkness of the mountain.'

Y/N: 'And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge.'

Legolas: 'Who shall call them from the grey twilight. The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the north shall they come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the paths of the dead.'

Y/N: 'You're cute when you monologue.'

Legolas: 'Cute?'

Y/N: 'We near the door of the death my friends.'

Gimli: 'The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.'

They get off their horses, staring at the sign above the door.

Legolas: 'The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead and the dead keep it. The way is shut.'

A loud gravelly exhale is heard from inside the door. It spooks the horses, sending them running.

Aragorn: 'Brego!'

Y/N cracks her neck, wringing her hands nervously. Watching their horses leave.

Aragorn: 'I do not fear death.'

Aragorn walks into the darkness and Legolas follows.

Gimli: 'Well, this is a thing unheard-of! An Elf will go underground, where a Dwarf dare not? Oh, I'd never hear the end of it.'

Gimli also trudges in.

Y/N sighs and follows.

Y/N: 'I hate this. Why do I do this.'

Legolas: 'You are the Pethryn. You have braved more than this.'

Aragorn looks at the ground filled with skulls.

Gimli: 'What is it? What do you see?'

Legolas: 'I see shapes of men, and of horses.'

Gimli: 'Where?'

Legolas: 'Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise, like winter-thickets through a shroud of mist.'

Y/N looks at Legolas as he turns to her.

Legolas: 'The dead are following.'

Y/N: 'They have been summoned.'

Gimli: 'The dead? Summoned?'

Y/N nods unenthusiastically.

Gimli: 'I knew that. Huh. Ha. Very good! Very good, LEGOLAS!'

A pale mist enshrouds the group. Gimli tries to blow away the mist.

Aragorn: 'Do not look down.'

Gimli glanced down and sees the bones and cadavers.

Y/N: 'How, homely....'

They reach a plateau and see a set of stairs leading to an unseen corridor.

The King of the Dead: 'Who enters my domain?'

His figure appears, clothed in rags, a stately crown upon his head.

Aragorn: 'One who will have your allegiance.'

The King of the Dead: 'The Dead do not suffer the living to pass.'

Aragorn: 'You will suffer me.'

The King of the Dead cackles, summoning the dead city, and all its inhabitants.

The King of the Dead: 'The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. And the dead keep it.'

The Dead surround the group, more and more appearing.

The King of the Dead: 'The way is shut. Now you must die.'

Legolas shoots an arrow which passes through the ghost.

Aragorn: 'I summon you to fulfil you oath'

The King of the Dead: 'None but the King of Gondor may command me.'

Y/N: 'We are in luck then.'

Aragorn draws his sword and The ghost king brings his blade down upon Aragorn. Aragorn in turn, blocks the blow.

The King of the Dead: 'But that line was broken!'

Aragorn grabs the ghosts neck.

Aragorn: 'It has been remade.'

Aragorn releases his hold on the King and turns around.

Aragorn: 'Fight for us, and regain your honour. What say you?'

Aragorn walk through the ghostly crowd pointing his sword at the dead men.

Aragorn: 'What say you?'

Gimli: 'Ah, you waste your time, Aragorn. They had no honour in life now they have none in death.'

Y/N: 'He is Isildur's heir. Fight for him and he will hold your oaths fulfilled.'

Aragorn: 'What say you!?'

The ghost cackles, fading away.

Aragorn: 'You have my word! Fight and I will release you from this living death. WHAT SAY YOU.'

The ghosts disappear one by one.

Gimli: 'Stand, you traitors!'

Y/N grimaces as the cave rumbles.

Y/N: 'This is what I was afraid of...'

Aragorn: 'OUT!'

The cave fills with skulls, all rushing down like an avalanche. They make their way out of the mountain, to face the river filled with boats.

Aragorn falls to his knees, distraught and Legolas places a hand on his shoulder while Y/N leans into Legolas's side.

She then hears a whisper, a call and turns around.

Y/N: 'Aragorn, look.'

The King of the Dead takes strides towards Aragorn, phasing out of the mountain rock.

The King of the Dead: 'We fight.'

[ibrithir-was-here]

About Stoker's eight fairy tales 1881 book, there's one called The Castle Of The King. The premise, atmosphere, and imagery make it the darkest of them. The other tales are on the site, too. I want to make a post about this one when it's relevant (for reasons you'll find obvious soon) but I wanted to share a bit of it for now since you like fairy tales.

The characters are nameless, the main one is "the Poet" (he changes titles during the story), his wife (Beloved One, Wife, or Her) and the King and his Castle (who both haunt the narrative). The Poet and his Beloved are in love and got married after trials for him to be seen as worthy of her hand (despite that she always loved him back) by her family. But she gets ill while she's away for duty, and dies. "But, alas! for hope; for who knoweth what a day may bring forth? Only a little while ago his Dear One had left him hale, departing in the cause of duty; and now she lay sick and he not nigh to help her."

He can sense that she has passed, despite their far distance, and they find him already weeping in his and his wife's garden when they bring him the news.

“She now abides in the Castle of the King.” He looked at them eagerly, as if to ask: “What castle? What king?” They bowed their heads; and as they turned away weeping they murmured to him softly- “The Castle of the King of Death.” He spake no word; so they turned their weeping faces to him again. They found that he had risen and stood with a set purpose on his face. Then he said sweetly: “I go to find her, that where she abideth, I too may there abide.” They said to him: “You cannot go. Beyond the Portal she is, and in the Land of Death.” Set purpose shone in the Poet’s earnest, loving eyes as he answered them for the last time: “Where she has gone, there go I too. Through the Valley of the Shadow shall I wend my way. In these ears also shall ring the Music of the Spheres. I shall seek, and I shall find my Beloved in the Halls of the Castle of the King. I shall clasp her close-even before the dread face of the King of Death.”

They weep for him, and then the story continues with his quest for the Portal, going beyond it, his running through what's basically hell to find her; not fire/demons, but it's like battling against despair itself. Pitying souls, increasing desolation, mountains, sounds and bleakness try to break him, beasts hunt him but cannot kill him due to his vow alone, his feet bleeding as he runs. It has an atmosphere akin to traveling in Mordor or Dead Marshes… "Yet they stood there-Mount Despair on the one hand, and the Hill of Fear upon the other."

His single-mindedness is unflinching despite how much he cries and falls and honestly, the Poet is more of a proto-Jonathan than the man in Dracula's Guest. I won't spoil how it all goes but yeah I find it, and the other stories too interesting

Oh wow! Yeah definitely can see the Jonathan Harker-ness in all of that. I'll definitely have to check it out!

[camille-lachenille]

One shot nº3 for the Silmarillion, solo for a gull

There is a gull circling the sky above Imladris, stark white against the blue sky. Elrond looks at the bird, wondering how it got lost so far inland; it probably followed the rivers and is now trying to find its way back, he muses, following the shape in the sky, restless.

“I never liked gulls,” a voice say, starting Elrond out of his thoughts. Celeborn is standing next to him, looking at the bird with a strange expression. “They’re so loud and dim.”

Elrond shrugs, his eyes drawn back to the gull. “I’m concerned for it, I wonder if it’ll find the sea again, its nest, its family. I hope so…” he looks at the settelment sprawling in the valley under them, half tents and half buildings covered in scaffoldings.

“Glorfindel needs you in the main hall,” Celeborn says after a beat, explaining his presence in the remote clearing. “Better not let him and Erestor unsupervised for too long, they might throw the walls down.”

Elrond quirks his mouth, already on his way to the settlement. “They wouldn’t dare upset me, you know how they can get.”

Celeborn snorts at that, the only sound he makes as he follows Elrond on the leaves covered trail downhill.

The gull is still there the next day, flying above the river and occasionally letting out a loud, laughter-like cry. Elrond finds himself distracted by the bird, looking up at it and smiling wistfully. A part of him missed this sound, omnipresent in his oldest memories. Celeborn looks at him but stays silent, for which Elrond is grateful; his friend and ally can be cutting with his words, despite his best intentions. It must be because he is Sindar, Elrond reflects, more used to the noises of the forest than the cry of seabirds and rushing of waves.

Time passes and the hidden valley turns from a refugee camp to a small town huddled around a main house, and Elrond wonders if that is how Sirion started, too, an Age ago. He can spy the gull in the sky, from time to time, and he knows somehow it is still the same bird he saw what must be a decade and a half ago. Its presence is oddly comforting, despite the strangely long life this gull seems to have been granted with, and Elrond catches himself looking forward to the next time he’ll hear the laughing cry echo in his valley.

Celebrorn brings Galadriel and his daughter to Imladris, now that the danger is kept at bay, and Elrond barely avoid making a fool of himself at the sight of Celebrían. Celeborn smirks imperceptibly at him and, from high above, the gull shrieks its laughter.

Years flow by, and Elrond longs for his home, his safe hidden valley. On the desolate plains of Mordor, he often looks up, hoping to see a gull through the thick black cloud that choke the the stars, to hear a now familiar laughter over the shrieking of orcs. He knows this is foolish, a child’s dream, but this habit keeps him going even when the star of High Hope cannot pierce the darkness of Mordor.

Sauron is defeated. The High-King is fallen. Elrond throws the darkened circlet to the ground when someone brings it to him, asking if he will take the High-Kingship. That night, he looks at the star of High Hope, the star of Eärendil, until he can see the light of his father’s ship printed on his lids when he closes his eyes. He laughs then, bitter and pained, until he is sobbing and cries himself to sleep. In his dreams, he sees the gull pecking at the crown on the floor of his tent, then flying away with a disdainful shriek.

Imladris is almost painfully beautiful after years of dust and smoke, blood and darnkness. Elrond feels a weight lift from his shoulders as he walks through the invisible border, and a familiar cry greets him. He looks up at the gull and smiles despite his tears, waves wildly at the bird as he laughs back at it. His men must be staring at him but Elrond doesn’t care, nothing exists outside of the bird flying above him. He is finally home!

It took Elrond much time and more courage than he thought possible, but he asked Celebrían in marriage. She said yes. Elrond is still pinching his arm on the day of the wedding as he dons his best robes, afraid to wake up from this beautiful dream.

It is a clear summer day, and the whole valley is fluttering with animation. It is not everyday its lord is getting married, after all.

Elrond walks under the trees, where Celebrían and a few, close friends and relatives are waiting for the him. Glorfindel stands at his side in stead of his blood family, and Elrond feels a small pang of regret. A shrieking laughter makes the small party start and, even as Celeborn’s face breaks in a frown, Elrond smiles at the strange but now familiar and comforting sight of the gull circling above the clearing. He closes the rest of the distance to Celebrían with a spring in his steps and takes her hands in his to exchange their vows.

The wedding feast is a grand affair, but Elrond is too busy smiling at Celebrían to really notice what is going on around them. As soon as the sun sets and the evening star rises, they slip away to their room, followed by good natured cheers and the gull’s cry. Celebrían looks at it with a bemused smile, but Elrond has already told her of the friendly bird that looks over the valley, and she forgets about it as the door closes behind them.

Life in time of peace is sweet and soft, like the last strawberries of the season. Elrond settles happily in his new, married life, marvelling each morning he wakes up next to Celebrían. He still looks our for the gull, but it becomes less and less frequent, and he never sees or hears it again. He wonders if the bird died at long last, and briefly mourns its disappearance, until the joy of his impending fatherhood sweeps any other feeling away.

The twins grow up to the tale of a white bird bringing them gifts for their begetting day and various festivals, as Elrond leaves little trinkets on their windowsill. When they are too grown to believe in the friendly gull anymore, they take to hide gifts for their little sister instead, telling her the tales Elrond invented for them. Elrond reflexively looks at the sky, after telling these stories to his children, and Celebrían gently squeezes his hand. He looks at Gil Estel then, and foolishly hopes his father is watching him from above.

The peace could only last so long, and Elrond’s dream shatters the day his sons bring back Celebrían more dead than alive. He heals her body as best as he can, stitches her wounds and mends her broken bones with Song. But her fëa is beyond his skill to heal, and Elrond weeps as he packs his beloved’s clothes and favourite items. At night he finds himself standing on the balcony of their too empty room, crying as he looks at the star of High Hope. But no sleep comes to him, no comfort can reach him through his sorrow.

The docks of Mithlond are bustling with activity, sailors readying the ship, families and friends saying their goodbyes, passengers boarding. Elrond is blind and deaf to that, as he embraces Celebrían’s frail body for the last time in who knows how long. Their children are crying, Elladan and Elrohir stubbornly trying to hide their tears as they support a sobbing Arwen. Elrond looks away when his daughter bids her farewell to her mother. He doesn’t know what they spoke of, but their embrace has something final to it, and he finds himself staring at the gulls flying overhead, making a strangely comforting racket.

The time has come at last, and Celebrían is helped on the ship by a friendly Teler sailor who promised to look after her until she reaches her relatives in Valinor.

Even as his children desperately wave their hand at the ship, Elrond cannot bear to look his wife, the love of his life, disappear from his sight. Instead, he looks at the gulls again, and is startled to see his gull flying amongst the other birds. He is sure it is the same bird, large and pure white, with a familiar cry. The gull swoops low, almost catching his hair, before flying away behind the ship. Elrond smiles despite himself, as he understands at last. “Look after her until I come!” he shouts to the gull, his voice nearly drowned by the sea wind. The gull loops back a little, shrieking, and disappears after the the ship. Elrond breaks into heavy sobs then, but he knows Celebrían won’t be alone.

As he guessed, the gull never visits Imladris again, and Elrond is comforted by its -her- absence now. He focuses on his children, on his people, on anything but the gaping void left by Celebrían’s departure. Each night, he looks at Gil Estel raising, and finds comfort in its light, as familiar to him as the cry of the gull.

Time passes and Darkness rises again. Elrond is tired but he does what he has to do. He mourns alone for Arwen, and he now knows what his daughter told Celebrían all these centuries ago, this last goodbye she had foreseen in time. Elladan and Elrohir will stay, and Elrond worries for them, but he is too tired, too worn out to stay, and his heart aches for a land he never saw but knows will be home, for Celebrían awaits him there.

When Elrond sails at long last, accompanied by Galadriel and two Hobbits, he keeps his eyes on the horizon, searching for a white speck in the sky, his ears straining for a familiar cry. He finds nothing until the shores of the Blessed Realms are less than a day away, when a gull perches on the mast of the ship and laughs happily. Elrond laughs too, tears in his eyes, but the bird is gone before long.

When he sets foot on the docks of Tol-Eresseä, Elrond is nearly knocked over by Celebrían, as she launches herself in his arms. They kiss, and they cry, and they laugh, reunited at last. But then Galadriel is there, waiting to greet her daughter, and Elrond reluctantly lets his wife go. As he turns away from the reunion between mother and daughter, he sees the woman standing on the dock, barefoot and wearing a simple white dress, her face like a mirror of his. Elrond takes a few steps toward her, almost stumbling, and stops in front of her. The woman smiles, hesitant yet warm.

“Mother?” Elrond asks, one hand outstretched between them and suddenly feeling like a child again.

Elwing nods, reaching for his hand, “My son,” she says, her voice rough with emotion.

Then, before he can say more, he finds himself with the gull perched on his shoulder, pecking at his tangled hair. And Elrond laughs, soon joined by the gull.

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58728745

[raointean]

RoP Teaser Trailer Breakdown!

First of all, I would like to say, I'm SO PSYCHED for this season! (Especially since we're going to get to see Elrond in action 🫠)

So, it starts off with a shot of saurbrand with Durin voicing over saying, "An evil, ancient and powerful, has returned!" Obviously, the shot is referencing Sauron and how he’s ancient, powerful, and evil, but I think that that's not what Durin is actually talking about in-universe. I think he’s actually referencing the balrog!

Honestly, given the scenes of panic and destruction in Khazad-Dûm we see later in the trailer, I think there's a good chance the season finale will deal with the fall of Khazad-Dûm at the hands of the balrog.

The next shot is this roiling mass of... things that take on a spider-like form. Obviously, that's going to be Shelob.

Next is a clip with Galadriel and Elrond, along with three elven warriors in a defensive circle. I'll be honest, I have no idea where they are or who/what they're fighting, but I am LIVING for Galadriel's braid crown. Gorgeous, practical, 10/10.

Also, we finally get to see Elrond fight! He toted that sword around all last season and didn't pull it out once! And, I love his new hair! Robert Aramayo, bless his heart, has a VERY angular face and the slicked back style was doing him no favors. It could just be messy hair in this one scene, but it's beautiful.

Next is a shot of the hands of one of the Rhûnic witches we saw last season with blood on her hands. Maybe some kind of blood sacrifice?

After that is a similarly lit shot of a temple (?) with a swarm of moths. I... have no idea what that's about, but I'm excited to find out!

Then there's a brief voice-over of either the Stranger (whom I maintain is definitely Gandalf) or maybe one of the southlanders? saying, "He worms his way inside your mind." As the scene cuts to the golden tree in Lindon as worm-like roots come out of the ground and begin to spread.

I think it looks a little like the mass that made up Shelob, but I don't really know what significance that could have? I can't imagine her crossing Middle Earth to bite the tree like Ungoliant did, but who knows. I also don't know the significance of who's speaking, but that's mostly because I can't tell who's speaking.

Then there's a quick cut to orcs and trolls on the move, presumably in Mordor.

After that, we're back in Ost-in-Edhil as Celebrimbor is watching a bright, orange light with a dark shape in the middle, like someone's coming through. It almost looks like... an eye 🤔

It's GOT to be the coming of Annatar. There's literally nothing else it could be!

Someone else, either Galadriel or Míriel, says "I think he has been here... I think he has been here all along!" Obviously, they're talking about Sauron and how he's been spying on them, making me think it's Galadriel speaking.

Then a shot of Ost-in-Edhil in confusion as Annatar stalks through the town square, a smirk on his face. This could be the beginning of the end of Ost-in-Edhil (and Celebrimbor) but I really don't think they'd do that so soon. Maybe he just got done with the Dwarf rings?

Next, there's a shot of Númenor's coastline along with the release date (August 29th!) then a shot of Galadriel and Elrond on horseback going... somewhere. There's mountains and my first thought was Númenor, but that wouldn't really fit. Maybe this is the discovery of the hidden valley?

What do we think?

Then, it's Míriel in the ocean with a giant sea-monster, possibly the one that attacked the southlanders' raft. I think she's having some sort of vision. Like a "this is the final fate of your people" sort of thing. That or Ar-Pharazon made her walk the plank lol.

Then there's shots of Disa, King Durin III, and a boulder breaking a bridge in Khazad-Dûm as someone says, "Every soul in middle earth is in danger," reinforcing my idea that we're going to see Khazad-Dûm become Moria. Also, Disa seems angry, and Durin III seems to be stuck in a cave? Coupled with the LITERAL BROKEN BRIDGE, it almost makes me think that Disa's gone full Lady MacBeth and is trying to get her husband into power.

Then a shot of Elendil in a crowd being pushed back by soldiers. Maybe something to do with the Faithful? Maybe Míriel's being executed? I have no idea.

The next shot is of Galadriel screaming which, while beautiful to hear, had no context, so I have no clue what it is. It's immediately followed by an orc licking his knife.

Next is a shot of a city (I think it's Lindon, but it could be Ost-in-Edhil or Armenelos) with the words "Darkness will bind them" immediately followed by a shot of the three elven rings on people's fingers. One is definitely Galadriel, another Gil-Galad, and I THINK the other is Celebrimbor.

Then the leaves of the great tree in Lindon turning from green to gold very quickly (I have no idea what that is. Could just be them showing off the tone?)

Durin III picks up a ring of power. I could really see this being a major point of conflict in the coming season. We already know that political tension is rising in Khazad-Dûm: Durin IV has been disinherited by his father, Disa wants Durin IV to be king, Durin III is against mining mithril while Durin IV and Disa are all for it, and presumably there's a brother in there somewhere who would very much like a chance at the throne. A ring of power in that situation would be like throwing a torch into a tinderbox!

Next, we see Arondir flipping and shooting an orc with Isildur in the background, which means we're going to see Arondir and Isildur team up! Not as cool as Elrond and Isildur would be, but there's still plenty of time for that. I think Arondir is probably trying to help him get home to Númenor.

After that is a shot of Númenor with a GIANT eagle coming in for a landing and then it switches to a shot of Ar-Pharazon drawing his sword in front of the eagle.

Y'all, this is INTERESTING! Giant eagles are signs/emissaries/agents of Manwë, the head dude of the valar! In book canon, Númenor is destroyed and Ar-Pharazon dies because he challenged the valar in his pursuit of immortality. Here, it looks like he's swearing to fight FOR the valar, like he has the backing of the gods. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING IN THIS SCENE OR IT'S GOING TO EAT ME!!!

Next is a shot of Theo crying, probably at his mom's funeral. (Bronwyn is dead, folks. Super dead. I don't know how it happened yet, but it will probably be offscreen as I heard the actress has decided to take a break from acting. We need to be respectful of that though, even if it leads to weird narrative choices, because real world problems trump fantasy 😔)

Then, there's a short shot of Isildur looking up (🤷‍♂️) and, more importantly, a shot of flaming catapults firing on Ost-in-Edhil.

There's one of two things this could be. Either, it's Sauron's army trying to conquer the city to get to the rings, or more likely, it's elvish forces (led by Elrond?) trying to free Ost-in-Edhil from Sauron's hold and rescue Celebrimbor. If THAT’S the case, it makes more sense that the Galadriel and Elrond riding horses shot was them finding the hidden valley, AND that means we might also get to see Celebrimbanner 😈.

Next is a shot of the new Adar, who doesn't look half bad, followed Gandalf the stranger in Rhûn hitting his staff on the ground and I think creating a wind. I think we're really going to see him come into his power this season!

Then, we see Galadriel pulling back a FLAMING arrow and blowing up a regiment of orcs. Then Elrond leading a cavalry charge. I'm guessing this is all during the attack to break the siege of Ost-in-Edhil.

After that, a very disheveled looking Celebrimbor drops seven (SEVEN!!! ALMOST DEFINITELY THE DWARF RINGS) into the forge fire. If I had to guess, I would say this shot is some time during his captivity and maybe he's escaped and is trying to destroy the rings of power he knows Annatar/Sauron had a hand in.

Next, we cut to a shot of Annatar in the debris of the forge (possibly destroyed when Celebrimbor tried to destroy the rings?) surrounded by sword wielding elves. Interestingly, they do NOT look like Elrond’s forces. Instead, they look more like Celebrimbor's own workmen. We can also see Celebrimbor in this shot WITH A MISSING HAND!!! (Seriously, what is with the Tolkien stories and losing a hand? First Maedhros, then Beren (as well as someone else I can't remember right now) and now poor Celebrimbor!?)

Galadriel gasps, "He is Sauron" and Annatar turns his hands and explodes the guards away, which immediately cuts to an explosion in a mountain valley. The smoke clears to reveal what I think is going to be the foundations of Barad-Dûr.

All in all, I think we're in for a TREAT this season with lots of Elrond, lots of dwarves, and LOTS of Celebrimbor whump. Honestly, I think we may even have a shot at seeing Celebrimbanner during the season finale! I doubt we're getting the fall of Númenor yet, the the fall of Khazad-Dûm is DEFINITELY on the table. SO EXCITED!!!