gregbarnett

[re-dracula]

I absolutely love my Re: Dracula bracelet by @bekaterrier! It arrived today and by pure coincidence perfectly matches my outfit.

[itsonlydana]

Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!

Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?

Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))

Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑

You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?

tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings

word count: 3,6k

an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.

You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing. 

Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth. 

Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now: 

Completely out of your known waters.

The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone. 

It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you. 

Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment. 

The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.

Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second. 

You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls. 

Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.

When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves. 

They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.

It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?

You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.

The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by. 

A gasp leaves your throat.

Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.

Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.

The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge. 

Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf. 

One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters. 

The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now. 

At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head. 

Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king? 

"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then: 

Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.

Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.

He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort. 

You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare. 

Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.

At first, there's nothing.

Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin." 

Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back. 

"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?" 

"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.

"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"

"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.

He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room. 

Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains. 

You blush.

Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.

"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture." 

You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."

His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"

You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.

"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment. 

The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air. 

"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past." 

"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.

"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.

"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"

Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended." 

All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.

Courting you? Being his intended? 

You can only stare at him aghast. 

"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.

The world is reeling. 

Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.

It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become. 

"No," Thranduil says.

A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.

"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."

Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.

Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."

His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.

A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.

You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart. 

"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard. 

Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?" 

You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.

The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it. 

Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways." 

You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance. 

"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."

"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."

You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.

"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."

"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"

Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."

"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.

"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."

"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."

"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."

"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."

Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.

"Allow me," he repeats, quieter. 

"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.

You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[whoisshel]

Stuck on You

Honey was given the nickname for a reason; she’s sweet and sticky like honey. Memories of her will stick with you forever, and after meeting her, you’ll want to stick by her side. Most people know her by Honey more than they do her own name. The whole town of Hawkins was surprised when they learned who she allowed to stick by her at all times.

If there was ever a person to be considered an opposite of Honey, it was Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Eddie wore black and leather while Honey wore white and soft cotton. Eddie lived in a one-bedroom trailer with his Uncle, Honey grew up with both her parents and was surrounded by siblings in the house neighboring the Harrington’s. Eddie couldn't care less about the number of eyes that fell on him for being loud and different than everyone else in town, and Honey tried to shield herself from the eyes that peered at her being the town's sweetheart.

Yet, besides those differences, and more, the two found each other and haven’t left that feeling behind. Eddie and Honey started dating during Eddie’s second senior year and Honey’s first. They both knew of each other, of course, from being Hawkins’ freak and sweetheart. They officially met in their English class when Honey noticed Eddie looking confused while reading Catcher in the Rye, so she went over to see if she could be of any help.

“Hi,” Hones shyly said standing over the desk he sat at, “I saw that you seemed confused by the book, and was wondering if you’d like some help. Catcher in the Rye is one of my favorite books, I’ve read it like a million times.”

Eddie just stared at Honey as she rambled on. He took in her shy appearance as she swayed nervously with her hands linked behind her back. Eddie was mostly surprised that a girl who was dressed in a white sweater and short plaid skirt would willingly want to help him, not to mention this girl was loved by everyone in town.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie finally sputtered out, “I would love your help.”

Not long after that, the two began to date, and the town erupted. Everyone talked about how surprised they were about the two teens dating. No one’s opinion was split though, it was probably the first the town could agree on something, Honey was too good for that “Freak.”

The town didn’t care to get to know Honey, because if they did they’d see that she’s not that different from Eddie.

Honey loves Rock music, what else is going to tune her parents’ shouting. She also enjoyed reading The Hobbit, she and Eddie loved reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings series over and over again together. While Honey didn’t know anything about Dungeons and Dragons before Eddie, she loved to listen to him talk about it and watch him play. Maybe she loved it because he loved it and would enthusiastically talk about it, or maybe because the game was actually fun.

The Dungeons and Dragons club members were very surprised when Honey showed up to one of the meetings. They heard the rumors but didn't believe them until the day they showed up to what was supposed to be a regular meeting but there Honey was all smiles and sitting comfortably on Eddie’s lap. The members were also surprised by how much patience Eddie had when teaching Honey the game. Usually, Eddie hated newbies that knew nothing, trying to play but when it came to Honey he was calm and collected, helping her every step of the way.

“Hey Eddie,” Honey unknowingly interrupted Eddie in the middle of telling another member his damage.

While everyone else froze, Eddie turned to Honey with the gentle list smile, “Yeah, babe?”

“Can you explain her powers to me again?”

Everyone assumed Eddie and Honey wouldn’t last longer than two months, but they were so wrong.

They’ve been together for three years now, Honey has graduated and is now a Junior in college while Eddie took another year to graduate High School where he met all their new friends. Eddie now works as a mechanic at a shop near Honey’s school. The two had even saved up enough money to move into an apartment and seemed like they weren’t going to be breaking up any time soon.

Honey and Eddie were happy that their place would give them space from the talk in their town but not too much that they couldn’t see friends or family. They would make the trip to visit Wayne and Honey’s siblings when they had time and would occasionally visit friends but most of the time they prioritized family. Their friends would visit them so much that they never needed to worry; especially when it came to Dustin, Steve, and Robin. Dustin practically lived with them from how often he would visit, and now that it’s his Junior year of High School all he can talk about is that once he graduated, he wants to go to the same college as Honey so they always be together.

“And then, I can get an apartment in the same building as yours so we can visit each other every day!” Dustin enthusiastically ranted.

Eddie looked over at Honey with wide eyes, while she just continued smiling. Eddie turned back to give Dustin a strained smile along with a nod, “That sounds great.”

The sarcasm was dripping off of Eddie’s extended “great” but that just went past Dustin as he continued with his plan.

“Oh, oh, even better idea. We should all move in together.”

It actually wasn’t too long after this conversation that three familiar faces became their neighbor six doors down.

Robin did attend the same college as Honey, and at first, she was just commuting but she wanted to live a shorter distance away. Robin and Vickie started looking for close apartments when Honey told her about a place that opened up in her building. One problem was that the place was a bit out of their price range and a two-bedroom. The place was really nice though and in walking distance to school so they wouldn’t have to pay for the parking pass. That’s when the third familiar face named Steve Harrington joined and now Honey and Eddie lived next to their friends.

Maybe living next to Dustin wouldn’t be so bad. Wrong!

In the morning, everyone stayed in their own apartments, giving Eddie and Honey time to enjoy each other's company. Every morning was pretty much the same for them. Honey was a big morning person, she loved to sit on the couch, placed perfectly near a window so she could watch the sun change from dark blue to orange to pink while she sipped on her Earl Grey Tea in her favorite Golden Girls mug. This gave Eddie time to sleep in because once the sun was shining Honey had nothing else to do but get Eddie up.

Eddie was not a morning person like his girlfriend but he couldn’t afford staying in bed; literally. Eddie had to be at work by nine a.m. which was luckier than the opener. Getting up at seven was made easier by the beautiful sight he saw every morning and the coffee that came with it.

Eddie stirred at the light caress he felt on his cheek, and what sounded to be an angel calling his name, “Eddie, it’s time to get up.”

When he realized what he was hearing, he scrunched his face in protest keeping his eyes shut tight trying to bring his sleep back.

“Come on, Eddie,” Honey chuckled at the cute face he made, “I’ve already let you sleep in. You’ve got to get ready for work.”

Eddie ended his protest, opening his eyes. As soon as he saw his beautiful girlfriend, a soft smile made its way on his face and to his eyes, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, handsome.” Honey still had a hand on his cheek, stroking a thumb across his cheekbone, “I brought your coffee.”

Eddie sat up, leaning against the wall their bed was against. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the mug filled with coffee, taking a small sip, His face filled with disgust, pushing the mug towards Honey, “Bleh, not sweet enough.”

Honey just rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping its way onto her face. Eddie made this joke every morning; and yet, Honey never grew tired of it. Neither did Eddie, seeing the same reluctant smile turn into one of joy. So Honey did what she does every morning, and stuck her finger into his coffee.

Taking the mug back, Eddie took another sip, “That’s better.”

The two have heard everything there could be said about how they would never make it and they were too different from each other. Even though Honey continued to dress in white sweaters and Eddie in his black leather vest, the two could never be more alike or in love.

Eddie knew that, and so did the small felt box he kept stashed away.

[hiatuswhore]

The Game — Aegon II Au

♡ A/N: Something I’ve been playing around with. Someone teach me how to write smut lol. This is currently just a one-shot and unedited so bare with me. Please give me feedback, I’m begging for it.

♡ SUMMARY: Just another fake dating PR stunt. Your job, fix the bad boys image. Easy right, not if Aegon Targaryen can help it.

♡ WORD COUNT: 1.7K

♡ WARNING: Harsh Language

previous — Masterlist — next

“What was it like when you first met?”

You smile politely at the question, not a single hair sitting out of place. The gaudy camera pointing at the two of you gleaming. Aegon wets his lips grinning to himself at the passing thought. The interviewer looks between the two of you, and the question lingers in the air.

“You want to take this one?” Aegon asks, looking at you with a fond glint. At least that’s what the camera sees, just as it sees how you bashfully look away from him and toward the interviewer.

“We met by a complete accident,” Your smile beaming as you recall signing up for high pay, low stakes acting gig. Even during the phone interview you were certain it was a load of crap. “A friend of mine who works at Westeros Incorporated forgot some of their work and asked me to run it over.”

“She comes in wearing these joggers and hoodie, in a building where all the suits look the same. I couldn’t stop looking at her she was all confused and clearly out of place. It was absolutely adorable,” A thrift store hobbit, that is what he had described your leisure wear the first day you had met. His mother, Alicent had nonstop scolded him as his sister Helaena offered a kind smile and his brother Aemond pretended as though you were not in the room.

“(Y/n) as you likely know Aegon Targaryen has been deemed the bad boy in the press. Hook ups, parties, fights. Tell us about the Aegon Targaryen you know,” Behind the camera crew stands Aegon’s mother and grandfather, Otto. Otto had been the final part of the hiring process. You were invited to the Targaryen Estate, not home—a fucking estate. There you met all of the family. No one had acknowledged your presence, only when Otto called you into his office did all eyes fall onto you. In there you signed never ending stacks of papers from Nondisclosure agreements to medical information releases.

If the checks were not so dizzyingly high and the contracts signed were not so nauseatingly terrifying your answers would likely be different. The Aegon Targaryen I know is a lazy narcissistic asshole who is, “so misrepresented in the media. The Aegon I know is nothing but kind and dedicated to whatever he puts his mind to. He just tends to put his mind to some not so productive things as times.”

You turn to Aegon, leaning closer him as you smile. The interviewers awes softly as Aegon kisses your temple and you both turn your focus back onto the journalist. You both leave the interview hand and hand, all giddy smiles and sunny dispositions until the cameras gone, the doors shut, and prying eyes leave the vicinity.

Ripping your hand out of his you cross your arms in front of you, glaring daggers at the roll of his eyes, “We didn’t say anything about kissing my temple.”

��Kind and dedicated. Might as well have tattooed we’re lying on our forehead. Since the way you dress was not obvious enough,” Aegon scoffs. Before you can get another word out Otto speaks sharply.

“Enough. Good job you two. (Y/n) for Aegon’s birthday we’re going to the lakehouse. We’re going to take the boat out on Blackwater, paparazzi always capture photos for that so we’re sending over some tasteful bathing suit options,” Otto explains sternly, nodding your head quietly you roll your eyes as Aegon huffs.

“I’m supposed to be partying in Dorne for my birthday!” Aegon whines. Otto dismisses, without skipping a beat you grab your bag leaving the conference room. You take the elevator to the second floor of Westeros Inc before taking the private elevator to the discreet door. Pulling your hood up you walk flagging down a cab.

Arriving to your new apartment the manicured trim of the walls and marble counter tops still knot your stomach. Before the ink dried on the paperwork Otto had you sign, you had a new set of keys and a paycheck with more commas than you had ever seen before. New money, new apartment, new boyfriend.

Scarily enough there it was, several shopping bags on your couch. The bathing suits. Your schedule for the day empty you turn on some music, digging into the bags trying on the bathing suits. The black one piece accentuating curves with a snug hold on your body. Pulling coils of hair into a ponytail you clasp your gold snake necklace while taking a look into your living room mirror. Taking out your phone you play around with a few different poses before your front door swings open. Aegon walks in texting away on his phone as he stops in the kitchen, he grabs one of your juices before sprawling out on the side of the couch without bags.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You exclaim, eyebrows knit while poorly shielding yourself behind the jeans you had been previously wearing. Aegon looks up from his phone, his eyes trace up your legs before meeting your gaze.

“Otto wants the leeches with cameras to see me coming over here. I promise I’d rather be anywhere else,” Aegon says, turning back to his phone.

“Do you ever tire of being an asshole?” Your questions earns chuckle, Aegon focus stays on his phone as he says, no.

“Do you ever tire of complaining?” Aegon asks. You scoff gathering the bags before stomping off to your room. His bedroom door right across, oh right, the apartment stipulation. The nice Red Keep apartment will be yours to own, after the successful completion of your year long contract, fix Aegon’s image and the paychecks and assets flow. A therapist couldn’t help that egotistic narcissist.

You slam your door shut, dropping the bags to the floor you change into gym shorts and a t-shirt. Folding the bathing suits, you put them away. Sprawling our on your bed you let out a long sigh. Eyes closed you sink into the soft mattress, more cloud than bed.

The week passes with the regularly scheduled outings. Restaurants, museums, social events. At the Stark foundation Gala, you make small talk with Cregan Stark and his sister Sara. Out of most of the socialites you have met, you deem them the most normal. Cregan nods along most of the conversation as you and Sara complain about the media. Sara does most of the talking as you sip on some fancy wine you cannot pronounce.

“I’m obsessed with your dress, it’s designer right. Don’t tell me, Cersei Lannister,” Sara says, her eyes narrowed with a playful suspicious glint. The silk dress hugs slightly at the hips as it stops at your mid-lower thigh. Your back completely exposed, biting the inside of your cheek you cannot help but notice how Cregan’s eyes outline your body. The elder Stark towers over, his gaze intense but compelling. From the moment you and Aegon arrived, Aegon disappeared and you found yourself drifting closer and closer to the handsome Stark.

“Joffrey actually,” You says softly, chuckling as you smooth out the dress. Sara gasps, she takes out her phone texting away.

“That stylish cunt. I told him to tell me when his newest designs dropped,” Sara says, walking off with her phone pressed to ear you giggle shaking your head.

“All of this must be a bit weird for you,” It’s the first time Cregan’s spoke, his gruff voice sending a tingle through your body. You shift in place taking another sip of your wine.

“That your sister has a member of the biggest fashion designing family in the world on her phone. Or that their relationship is so casual she calls Joffrey Lannister a cunt the way I’d playfully insult my best friend?” You say, earning a chuckle. Cregan nods sipping his own wine, your eyes stay on each others a moment too long. The intense gaze sends your mind to all the wrong places. His hands large hands roaming, tall stature domineering, tongue d— “So how long is your contract with the Targaryens?”

You snap back to reality, Cregan still wears the same reserved look to his persona. Looking around the room, others still mingle without care. Cregan chuckles, “We socialites are all the same. I’ve known Aegon my entire life, this good guy for the right girl act is pretty dull.”

“So don’t watch then,” You scoff rolling your eyes you scan the room for Aegon. Cregan chuckles his demeanor never falters while he speaks cooly, “But I want to watch you.”

Cregan’s eyes look over your body shamelessly, “I want to watch you in that dress, out of that dress in all kinds of positions.”

Your mouth gapes as you process the words he says so casually. Before you can respond a hand wraps around your wrist, Aegon walks you to a back wall. A giant glass wall to your left and the rest of your party to your right. Aegon eyes are bloodshot and he reeks of tequila. He presses his body against yours, one hand on the wall above your head caging you in.

“You want to fuck the mutt be my guest but first we need to convince the press this is real,” Aegon says, licking his lip revealing the tongue piercing. His dainty silver chain shines in contrast to his all black suit, he looks undeniably good. The rasp of his voice captivating, and his narcissism irritatingly sexy. You take a deep breath bringing yourself back to reality.

“You’re drunk and I don’t know how dry humping me at a social event is going to help us,” You push off the wall looking down at your heels, you step left avoiding stepping on his shoes. The feeling of his fingers gripping your jaw pulls a light gasp from your lips.

“I’m not suddenly a fucking saint because of you. My grandfather said we have to convince the public, and they know me. The photographers outside can see into here, can see us,” Aegon says holding your face closer to his as he grins down at you. His other hands rubs on your outer thigh, lifting your leg from under your knee as he nestles between your legs. “Kinda like you like this, you’re sexy when you’re not talking.”

“Fuck you,” You whisper pulling your jaw out of his hand he captures your lips biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. The kiss steals your breath and the chuckle that leaves his lips vibrates through your chest to your core.

Aegon bites his bottom lip as he brings his thumb up tracing your lips. You furrow your eyebrows at him. The flashes in the distance confirms the photographers capture the moment from outside. Aegon interlaces your hand in his, before you step out of the building he smirks whispering into your ear, “Play the game Cinderella and you just might win.”

[lotrandthehobbitwritings]

Amethyst

Pairing: Kíli x (fem!) Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning: sexual tension, mentions of wounds and needles

Words: 5190

(not proof read!!)

‘’Well then, that’s decided. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others’’

‘’Inform the who? What? No, no, no! We do not want any adventures here, thank you! Not today! I suggest you try somewhere over the hill or across the water! Good morning!’’

You heard the door slammed shut as your father stormed back inside the house.

‘’Father, who was that old man?’’ you asked in confusion seeing your father frustrated.

‘’No one you should worry about (y/n)’’ he answered after clearing his throat and leaning on the door.

But then came this noise that made both you and your father frown, wondering what it could be. It sounded like, scrapping..? That was odd. Nonetheless, you and your father went on as if nothing happened. Well, your father acted as if nothing happened, you on the other hand had many more questions about the conversation you heard between your father and that oddly dressed old man, but you knew better than to ask your father for more information.

As the afternoon arrived, you both went out to run some errands. You needed to buy a few ingredients for dinner and so you followed your father as he made his way to the market. Specifically heading towards the stall of a fisherhobbit. After paying for the goods, your father thanked him and placed the fishes in the basket you were holding. As you two walked back home, you came across an elderly of the Shire. Your father talked with him, and you listened.

‘’She looks very much like her mother, stunning just like she was’’

‘’Yes..’’ your father said with a small smile. ‘’She is’’

The conversation ended there, and you made your way back home. Your father seemed sad, he was silently walking whilst kicking small rocks with his feet. You couldn’t help but feel sad at this sight. Your mother died when you were very young. Your father never really talked about it, and you never really asked questions until you became older. With time, you were able to have more information on what happened to your late mother. She lost her life when her and your father explored outside of the Shire and accidentally drowned in a river. This day left your father obviously heart broken, but he gathered all his strength and put it into raising you. Everyone loved your mother. She was kind-hearted, joyful, and selfless. Despite her being a human, she was easily welcomed into the community of The Shire. So, when the news of her death made its way to all Hobbits in town, all mourned her. And all gathered to provide your father with goods to make it easier on him.

That evening as you two ate, the doorbell rang, leaving the both of you confused. Your father got up and walked towards the door and opened it. You couldn’t see much from the dining room, but it looked like a small man at the step of your door. Despite him being small, he in no way looked like a Hobbit. He in fact was a bit taller.

‘’Dwalin, at your service’’ you heard the man say while bowing to your father.

Dwalin? What a strange name you thought. Your father introduced himself using the same sentencing as the man just did, but with more confusion in his voice.

‘’Sorry, do we know each other?’’ your father asked as the man stepped inside the house uninvited.

‘’No’’ he simply replied while looking around as if he was searching for something.

‘’Which way laddie? Is it down here?’’ he continued.

‘’Is what down where?’’ your father asked in utter confusion.

‘’Supper!’’ the man said while tossing his coat at your dad. ‘’He said there’d be food and lots of it’’

‘’He said? Who said?’’

But the man didn’t answer. Instead, he sat down at your father’s chair and started eating the fish that was in front of him. You were quick to get up, uneasy to have a stranger sitting this close to you. Your father walked besides you and stood in front of you. Despite you being half Hobbit half Human, you were short. You took your looks from your mother but had your father’s size. No physical appearance of yours apart of your height could give away that your father is a Hobbit.

You watched as the man ate most of the food that was in his sight. Your father barely got to save two buns so that you two could eat. And as if this stranger wasn’t enough, the doorbell rang again. This time, the man was a bit shorter, but looked much older. He had a long white beard that matched his hair.

‘’Oh! Evening brother!’’ the old man said.

Brother, how could these two be related? You questioned yourself seeing that one was muscular, and that the other was well, rounder. The two banged their head against another and that’s when you realized they were Dwarves. You never seen one with your bare eyes. The only Dwarf you ever seen was a drawing from one of your father’s many books. But they didn’t look like the two standing in your pantry. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a third ring of the doorbell.

‘’Fíli’’

‘’And Kíli’’

‘’At your service’’ you heard the two younger Dwarves say in unison as they, much like the others, bowed.

‘’You must be mister Boggins!’’ the dark-haired one said, which made you chuckle silently.

Your father tried to keep them out, and that’s when the other asked if the event has been cancelled.

‘’Cancelled? Nothing’s been cancelled!’’

‘’That’s a relief!’’ Kíli said while stepping inside.

These two seemed less proper than the two before. They walked around and wiped their boots on furniture, much to your father’s displeasure. The youngest Dwarf turned a corner of the house and his eyes met with yours.

‘’Good evening’’ he said with a smile.

‘’Good evening’’ you answered, smiling as well.

The Dwarf turned around and joined the others.

Less than an hour later, your house was filled with Dwarves. 13 of them to be exact. And the oddly dressed old man from this morning was there too. You learned that his name was Gandalf and that he was a wizard. The company, as they called themselves, talked about their quest to regain their homeland. A kingdom called Erebor that rested under a mountain. You listened closely as you were interested in the story. Much like your father, you always had an interest in tales and stories. The Dwarves and Gandalf then talked about few more things the quest involved, and that’s when one of the Dwarves spoke up.

‘’That’s why we need a burglar’’

‘’A good one too. An expert I’d imagine’’ your father replied.

‘’And are you?’’ another Dwarf asked.

‘’Am I what?’’

‘’He said he’s an expert!’’ the first Dwarf expressed with much excitement in his voice.

Your father was quick to deny that statement. After all, the Dwarf needed the aid of an ear trumpet, so he clearly didn’t properly hear what your father said. The oldest Dwarf agreed with your father, saying he hardly was burglar material. But the wizard became irritated and argued his case that your father would be an excellent burglar, noting that Hobbits are light on their feet and that they can go unnoticed easily. The leader of the company, his name was Thorin, agreed to go with Gandalf’s wishes and asked for the members of his troupe to take out the contract so that your father could sign it. As he began to read, your father’s eyes grew big. It wasn’t long before he started feeling faint and you could see it. After a few minutes, all thanks to Bofur, your father passed out. You were quick to kneel by his side to make sure he was alright. When he regained consciousness, you helped him sit in his armchair, where he talked with Gandalf. You listened to them as Gandalf told the tale of your great-great-great-great-great uncle Bullroarer Took during the Battle of Green Fields. And almost as your father was now convinced, he asked the Wizard one simple question.

‘’Can you promise that I will come back?’’

‘’No. But if you do, you will not be the same’’

‘’That’s what I thought’’ your father said with a small sigh. ‘’I’m sorry Gandalf, but I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit’’

And so, the evening came to an end. You were, in all honesty, disappointed. You wanted to know more, and the only way to be able to do so was to join them in their quest. But you stayed silent as coming against his word wasn’t the right thing to do in the moment.

The next morning you got up and walked downstairs, seeing your father staring at the contract that was lying there on the coffee table. The house was silent, meaning that the Dwarves were gone.

‘’Father?’’

He turned his head to look at you and gave a little smile.

‘’What will you do?’’ you asked.

‘’What will I do?’’ he said with a slight chuckle, almost as if he thought your question was unnecessary. ‘’Nothing of course, why should I go on a quest to steal from a dragon and risk my life doing so’’

‘’Because you love adventures, we both do’’

‘’Loved adventures. It’s all in the past now (y/n). Adventures and quests are something way too dangerous’’

‘’But we would have a chance to explore the world! See it for ourselves after reading about it in books for so many years!’’

‘’We?’’ your father asked. ‘’There is no we. If I were to go, I would not risk the life of my daughter for a group of Dwarves’’

‘’Father..’’ you said while taking his hands. ‘’I’m not a little girl anymore, I can defend myself when needed’’

‘’Against chickens (y/n), the only thing that could threaten us here. The world is far more dangerous than three chickens running after you because you stole their eggs’’

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

‘’I know that father, but they have weapons. They can teach us, teach me how to use one. And if luck is on our side, I would not need to use a weapon ever’’

You smiled a bit sadly and held his hands more tightly.

‘’Mother would have been so excited to be able to go on such journey, don’t you think?’’

‘’She would’ve yes..’’ you father answered sadly.

‘’Then why not honour her by helping them? She wouldn’t want us to stay in here when a chance to explore the world is offered to us’’

Your father looked at you, clicked his tongue, and sighed.

‘’You are convincing.. Way too convincing in fact. Your mother would be proud’’

You smiled and took a quill in your hand.

‘’Let’s go and explore the world then’’ you said with a smile still on your lips.

And that is how you and your father joined the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

So far, the adventure has been easy. You encountered trolls but escaped easily. You then came across goblins, which was a scary part but thankfully you had Kíli and Fíli to reassure you. You grew very close to the brothers as time went on. You pretty much were the same age as Kíli, just a little bit younger, but you two got along as if you knew each other all your lives. Now getting along with the youngest brother meant you got along with the oldest, but he seemed scary at first. He looked way more serious and sterner than his younger brother, but you quickly learned it wasn’t the case. They both goofed around a lot, and both were reckless. They both brought you in their ideas, which was fun to you. Now of course their uncle and your father weren’t fond of you three always wandering off. Their uncle didn’t like it because he wanted both his nephews to be more serious and show they can be responsible, and your father didn’t like it because he was worried that you’d get hurt as you didn’t know what could be out there. The night was slowly falling, and everyone were setting up the camp.

‘’Bifur, take the night watch’’ you heard Thorin say.

The Dwarf nodded and sat by a fallen tree log, resting his back on it. The rest of the company worked on various tasks that would be necessary for the night. Bombur was prepping the food to cook, Dwalin was making a fire as it was colder tonight. The rest were making the place as comfortable as they could.

‘’(y/n), follow me’’ Kíli said low enough so no one else would hear.

You turned around and saw him heading towards the small forest that was behind the camp. You quickly looked at the others to see if anyone was watching you, and when the coast was clear, you walked in the same direction as Kíli. But there was no sign of him, which made you frown.

‘’Kíli?’’

No answer. You looked around in every direction possible to see if you could find him, but it was no use. The forest was getting too dark for you to see him. You then heard a branch breaking behind you and you turned around quickly putting your hand on the hilt of your sword, ready to take it out. That’s when you felt a hand on your shoulder. In a split second you took out your sword and pointed it at the person behind you, making them back against a tree. As you squinted, you recognized the silhouette.

‘’Kíli are you mad? I could’ve hurt you, or worse killed you!’’

‘’You could never kill me’’ your friend said with a smirk on his face.

‘’Are you saying this because I’m a woman? Or because I’m smaller than you?’’ you said with a small scoff while putting away your sword.

‘’None, I’m just too good at fighting that’s why’’ he said on a joking tone.

You chuckled at his words.

‘’Don’t give yourself too many credits, if I must remind you, I was trained by you and your brother, so my skills are pretty sharp’’

Kíli laughed and agreed.

‘’Come, I want to show you something I found earlier’’ he said.

You frown curiously and followed him as he led you deeper into the forest. After a few minutes of walking, you saw a small pond and steam coming out of it.

‘’A hot spring’’ you said with a smile.

Kíli nodded.

‘’I figured you’d want to dip in it since you said you miss taking hot baths’’

You looked at him, a bit shy.

‘’Well yes, but it wouldn’t be safe’’

‘’And why not?’’

‘’Because we are far from the company, and we could get attacked’’ you said.

‘’I thought you said you fighting skills were sharp’’ Kíli answered, yet again smirking.

That smirk had some effect on you, but you couldn’t let it show. Or else he would tease you endlessly.

‘’Well, yes’’ you said, baffling out your words.

Kíli chuckled and started removing his tunic.

‘’What are doing?’’ you asked, thankful that it was dark as your cheeks were getting red.

‘’Going to take a hot bath’’ the prince answered as he set his tunic down on the grass.

You watched as his hands made their way to the laces of his trousers. You tried your best to not show how shy you were, but it was no use. The Dwarf prince could see your flustered look through the darkness, to which he answered with a small chuckle. He quickly removed his boots and trousers before getting in the hot spring. You stayed in your place, not moving an inch.

‘’Well? Are you not going to join me?’’

No words could leave your mouth.

‘’The water is pretty hot and relaxing by the same mean’’ he added as he rested his back against the stones of the pond.

Kíli chuckled again and smiled.

‘’Fine I’ll close my eyes, even though missing such a view will be a shame’’

You nodded in agreement and waited until he closed his eyes to undress. You quickly removed your coat and your tunic before removing your boots and trousers, leaving you naked in the cold air of the night. You were quick to join him in the hot spring before you would freeze, sighing silently as the hot water touches every inch of your body as you lower yourself more and more in the pond.

‘’Comfortable right?’’ Kíli said as he opened his eyes.

‘’Very’’ you answered, making sure that your breasts were hidden by the water.

Kíli smiled and looked at you. You could feel his burning eyes on you, they would not let you out of their sight. You couldn’t help but look at his hairy chest, his long dark hair falling from his shoulders, the tip being wet as it touched the water. You could make out the muscles of his chest and it brought a burning sensation inside of you. Your mind kept telling you to stop staring, that he would notice and that it would be embarrassing as he’d take the opportunity to tease you, but your eyes couldn’t listen. They were stuck to his chest, almost as if they were being hypnotized. And the prince noticed, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. He knew the effect he had on you at this very moment, and he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like it. He loved it in fact. Because since he stepped inside your house back in the Shire, he has been obsessed with you. He could only imagine how you look under your dress. That day, your hair was gently tucked back behind your ear, exposing your neck to him and he ever since has been thinking of kissing it. Now your neck was exposed again, much to his liking. And he had to hold back to not pull you closer to him and give in to his fantasies.

The air became hotter, you didn’t know if it was from the hot spring or from the prince in front of you. It became harder to breathe, your chest was raising faster than it normally was. You needed to calm down, and quickly.

‘’The moon is pretty, isn’t it’’ you managed to get out somehow, stuttering the last bit of your sentence, hoping he didn’t notice.

The prince’s eyes looked away from you to stare up at the sky. The moon was full and shining brightly in the dark sky full of stars. There were barely any clouds to hide the beautiful view above.

‘’Yes, it is. Nights like these are some of the prettiest things in this world’’

You agreed with a small hum. While Kíli was looking up, you took the opportunity to sit more comfortably. What you didn’t know though, was that your new position would allow the prince to get a better view of your breasts. And he noticed as soon as he looked back at you. He felt his member harden at the sight but tried his best to keep his composure.

The distant voices of your companions could be heard as they called out that supper was ready.

‘’We should probably go back, before they start looking for us’’ you said, yet again stuttering.

‘’Yes, we shall’’ Kíli agreed, a stutter leaving his lips as well.

You both got out, trying your best not to look at each other, and dressed up as quickly as you could. The warmth of your coat helped keep your body temperature at a warmer temperature, which you were thankful for. You both walked back to camp and enjoyed a nice warm meal.

Weeks went by, the battle for Erebor was just over and thankfully everyone of your company were alright. Hurt, but alive. You and Oín were tending to the wounded, and you just finished bandaging your father’s cuts.

‘’You’ve impressed me a lot during this journey (y/n)’’ your father said while putting his hand on your cheek.

‘’You keep showing me how much your mother would be proud to have a daughter like you’’ he added.

You smiled and put a hand on his.

‘’She would be proud of you too father, for going out and exploring the world. Helping the Dwarves getting their home back’’

Your father smiled and kissed your forehead.

‘’Go tend to the others, I’ll be fine’’

You nodded and watched as he walked towards Thorin. You gathered your material and headed towards Dwalin, but saw that Oín got to him first. You then felt a pair of eyes on you. And you knew too well who it was. You smiled to yourself and turned around, now facing Kíli. You walked to him and kneeled in front of him as he was sitting down. He had a big cut on his right cheek, which was still bleeding down his chin.

‘’What do you think nurse?’’ Kíli asked, making you smile.

The tension between you two was still very present, even more since the dip in the hot spring. His eyes never left you whenever you two were near each other, and it very much was the case right now. His eyes were wandering up and down, taking in every detail of your shape. Your waist was beautifully shaped because of the belt around it, making the dress tighter and looking like an hourglass. Kíli could only wish he could see your hips, but the skirt of your dress hid them. The thing he loved most, was your bust. He loved how plump your breasts looked with how tight the dress was. Even though he couldn’t see much of the actual breasts themselves, he could very well see the shape of them. And it only made his fantasies stronger.

‘’You might need a few stitches’’ you answered as you got closer to him to have a better look.

His eyes directly went to your chest, as it was now too close for him not to look at it. You grabbed a clean cloth and gently wiped his cheek, making him wince in the process. You apologized and gently dabbed the wound to get a better look. Now that the blood was mostly all gone, you had a better understanding of how deep the cut was, and it thankfully wasn’t that bad.

‘’It’s not as deep as I thought, but you’ll still need a few stitches’’ you said while grabbing a needle and some thread.

Kíli watched you as you passed the thread through the eye of the needle.

‘It will sting’’ you warned as you gently held his cheek.

‘’It’s fine, it’s not like I never had stitches before’’ he said with a chuckle.

You smiled and asked if you could start, to which he nodded. You guided the needle through his wounded cheek and watched as he frowned, holding his knee tightly. You apologized and continued with your actions, stitching his cut in no time.

‘’All done’’ you said as you gently dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

‘’Thank you’’ the prince said while gently touching the stitches you just gave him.

‘’Don’t touch it, your hands aren’t clean, and I don’t want you to get an infection’’

Kíli nodded and put his hand away.

‘’Is your duty as nurse over?’’ he then asked.

You looked around and saw that Oín took care of the last person in need of treatment.

‘’Yes, all done’’ you answered while wiping your hands with another cloth than the one you just used.

‘’Then would you come with me to explore the kingdom?’’

You got a bit shy at his request. It wouldn’t be the first time you spend alone time with him, but it would be the first time since the hot spring. Nonetheless, you agreed happily. Kíli smiled while getting up, took your hand and led you down a staircase. The young prince had the chance to explore Erebor before he and the others joined the battle, so he knew exactly where he wanted to take you. You on the other hand were clueless, part of it because you never went any further than the entrance and the throne room, but also because you couldn’t tell what he wanted you to see. After getting down another flight of stairs, you made it to a smaller room where many jewels were. The sight was of course breathtaking, you have never seen any jewels, let alone so many.

‘’Unbelievable that these treasures were untouched. Smaug could’ve easily taken them with him, although he cared more for the gold than for anything else’’ Kíli said while walking to a table.

You followed him, almost scared to touch anything as you felt like it wasn’t yours to hold.

‘’Don’t be scared’’ the prince said almost as if he read your mind. ‘’You can touch the gems’’

You nodded and walked closer to the table he was standing in front of. There laid many small purple gems.

‘’Amethyst, right?’’ you asked as you reached for a bigger one that laid in the middle of the others.

Kíli nodded and smiled.

‘’You like them?’’

You answered with a nod and glanced more closely at the gem in your hand.

‘’It’s beautiful. I saw so many drawings of it in my father’s books.. I never thought I’d lay eyes on one, let alone hold one’’

‘’The color suits you’’ he said as he got closer to you. ‘’It’s the same color as the dress you were wearing when we first met’’

‘’I always loved the color purple’’ you said smiling. ‘’It’s the color of so many beautiful things.. Lilac, lavender, purple emperors, and lilac-breaster rollers’’

Kíli smiled as you listed everything.

‘’Beautiful things indeed’’ he said, grabbing your hand in which the gem was. ‘’But I know of something far prettier than all those you said’’

‘’And that is?’’

‘’You’’

You felt your cheeks change colors, a hot sensation taking over them. Kíli chuckled at your shy expression.

‘’You’re cute when flustered’’ he said, which only made you shier.

You couldn’t get a single word out, your mouth was glued shut and so was Kíli’s hand around yours you just noticed. His other hand then made its way to your red cheek, which made you look at him.

‘’(y/n)’’ he said, his tone more serious. ‘’I have to be honest and tell you the reason I brought you here, and I hope that you won’t hate me for it’’

Your eyebrows frowned in confusion, and in a slight fright too as you feared what he would say.

‘’Ever since the day I first laid eyes on you, I couldn’t take you off my mind. Everyday I thought about you, thought of how kind and how beautiful you are. I love every moment I spent with you, you make my heart warmer. And during the battle, all I could think of was that I needed to survive to see you again. You were my strength, and those wounds I got, I got them for you amrâlimê’’

You could not get what you were hearing. Not that you didn’t understand it, you understood all of what he said, all except from that last word. You didn’t know a single word in khuzdul. You watched as he reached a hand in his pocket and took out a small metal bead, which had an amethyst hanging from it. You recognized immediately what it was, having seen many in the Dwarves hair. It was a braiding bead. You didn’t know why he was offering you one, but you couldn’t take your eyes off it as you thought it was so beautifully made.

‘’In our culture, hair braiding is obviously very common, but there is one specific braiding that means more than others to us.. Courtship braiding is a tradition in which a braid is done and is clasped using one of these’’ he said, now holding the bead in his fingers.

‘’And so.. I wanted to know..’’

You looked at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

‘’I wanted to know if you would want to be mine, and only mine’’ he said.

You couldn’t believe it. Was this really happening? After weeks of you dreaming of that moment, it finally was coming to reality.

‘’Kíli..’’ you watched the bead in his hand. ‘’Are you sure about this?’’

‘’More than anything. I love you amrâlimê, more than I ever loved or will love anyone’’

‘’But.. I’m not of your kin.. Would it even be allowed?’’ you said while looking at him with tears in your eyes. ‘’You’re a son of Durin, aren’t you expected to marry within your kin?’’

‘’My uncle and my mother cannot control my heart (y/n), and besides, I’m not the heir’’ he said, gently rubbing your cheek with his free one, a soft smile drawing on his lips.

You were still scared. What if Thorin gets angry at him for not respecting the tradition of the line of Durin.

‘’Amrâlimê, trust me’’

‘’I do trust you, I’m just worried’’ you said silently.

‘’And I promise you don’t have to be’’

You nodded, putting your hand on his left cheek.

‘’Then yes Kíli, I will be yours’’

Kíli smiled widely and gently brought you closer before kissing your soft lips. The kiss lasted a few seconds, as none of you wanted to let go of each other. After both waiting for so long, you didn’t want it to stop.

‘’You are beautiful amrâlimê’’

You still had no idea what it means, but it sounded so well as it rolled off his tongue. You were drawn to the sound of that word.

‘’Amrâlimê’’ you repeated. ‘’What does it mean?’’

‘’My love’’ Kíli answered, smiling.

You smiled too and kissed him again.

‘’May I?’’ he asked, gently grabbing a lock of your hair in his fingers.

You nodded and turned around for him to braid your hair. He did a simple braid on the left side of your head. His touch was gentle, it was almost relaxing. You smiled as you felt him clasp the end of your braid with the bead. After he finished, he turned you around and looked at you.

‘’So beautiful’’ he said while rubbing your cheek.

‘’Should I make you one too?’’ you asked.

‘’Of course, amrâlimê’’

He took out another bead, exactly like yours and gave it to you. You did the same as him, braiding his left side while making sure to be as gentle as he was. Kíli loved your touch, it was sweet and showed how caring you were.

‘’All done’’ you said while closing the bead at the end of the braid.

The prince, who was now yours, turned around and kissed you again. The kiss was more passionate and showed how much love he had for you.

‘’I love you’’ he said against your lips.

‘’And I you, amrâlimê’’

[heyitsjustmoi]

First in Bag End

The path had led him through the green, rolling hills of the Shire, with its freshly tilled earth, gardens teeming with life, and flower boxes brimming from windowsills. He took it all in, but found it difficult to describe the peace and tranquility of this land—an unfamiliar feeling for one who had seen much strife.

He had never heard of the Shire, not by name nor by reputation, and upon his arrival, the lush landscape overwhelmed him. It was unexpected, this calm, this peacefulness—a far cry from the dark and sorrowful halls of the Blue Mountains.

A small, elderly hobbit, burdened by a sack of rice, stumbled near him. Thorin reached out instinctively, steadying the sack with ease.

"Thank ye, laddie!" the hobbit exclaimed, his weathered face lighting up with gratitude.

Thorin held the sack a moment longer. "Where shall I take this for you?" His voice held a quiet uncertainty, for his garb and stature drew the eyes of curious onlookers. He was an outsider here, and the gaze of the Shirefolk upon him felt both curious and judgmental.

"Oh, there's no need, none at all! I can manage from here," the old hobbit replied, tipping his hat in thanks before reclaiming the sack with a slight bow.

With a sigh, Thorin breathed in the fresh air. Gandalf said I would know Bag End when I saw it, he mused, his eyes drifting to the peculiar homes of the hobbits—each one built under the hills, their round doors set like jewels in the earth. It amused him to think of the dirt that must settle within, though the people themselves appeared anything but unkempt.

One door in particular caught his attention: a perfectly round green door with a brass knob set squarely in its center. He paused momentarily before moving on, continuing his search through the village. His feet carried him toward the market, where laughter and lighthearted chatter filled the air. The spirits of the Shirefolk were infectious, and Thorin felt a flicker of something he had long since buried—hope.

Amidst the market's bustling energy, a voice caught his ear. "Now, I don't suppose you've seen a Wizard lurking about?" The voice was that of a finely dressed hobbit, polished and perhaps a touch arrogant in his manner.

"A tall fellow? Long, gray beard? Pointy hat?" the farmer replied, shaking his head. "Can't say I have."

Before the conversation could unfold further, the hobbit rushed off, leaving Thorin to ponder. A Wizard… Could this be the one Gandalf mentioned? He followed the hobbit at a distance, careful to remain unnoticed, for he had no desire to make a poor impression on the fourteenth member of their company.

Soon, Thorin found himself standing before the same round green door he had passed earlier. As he examined it closely, he noticed a symbol etched discreetly upon its surface. He nearly groaned aloud—he had walked right by the very place he sought. So much for my directional sense.

He watched as the hobbit entered the house, and Thorin, unsure of his next move, sat quietly on a small bench nearby. For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe in the stillness, the tranquility of this place. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—could he one day live in such peace? Perhaps, when Erebor was reclaimed and his crown secured, he might retire to a small home here, far from the weight of the throne. The idea brought a rare smile to his face.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Shire, Thorin rose and approached the door. He knocked firmly, and after a moment, it creaked open to reveal a hobbit, staring up at him with wide, startled eyes.

"Uh—who—"

"Thorin Oakenshield," he introduced himself with a small nod. "And you must be the hobbit."

The hobbit blinked in confusion. "Hobbit? Well, yes, I am indeed a hobbit, but... do we know each other?"

"Not yet," Thorin replied with a faint smirk. "You haven’t given me your name."

"Ah, yes! Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit replied, offering his hand hesitantly. Thorin took it, his grip firm.

"Now we know each other," Thorin said. "May I come in?"

Bilbo stepped aside, still clearly flustered. "Well, I suppose so, though I must apologize—I’m not expecting any visitors, and my dinner preparations—"

Thorin stepped inside, shedding his cloak and handing it to Bilbo. The hobbit took it, unsure of where to place it, before hanging it on a nearby peg. Thorin surveyed the hobbit-hole, his first impression upended. Despite being under a hill, the walls were not earthy, but lined with polished wood, the air warm and inviting. It felt... homely.

"You have a fine home, Master Baggins," Thorin said, genuinely pleased.

Bilbo, still a bit taken aback, smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"Where’s your kitchen? I might lend a hand."

Bilbo hurried after him, protesting. "No, no, you’re a guest—uninvited, perhaps, but still a guest!"

Thorin ignored the remark, already inspecting the small kitchen. "You’ll want to prepare more than this, Master Baggins. There will be more guests later this night."

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up, his voice rising in pitch. “More guests? Who—? Wait! Wait! That’s the pantry!”

Thorin, undeterred, had already begun rummaging through the pantry, pulling out supplies with the practiced ease of a man accustomed to hard work. “Bombur alone could devour half this larder, so you might want to prepare more than this block of cheese.” He placed items on the table. “I’m no master chef, but I can manage slicing and dicing.”

Bilbo stood frozen for a moment, mouth agape, before throwing his hands up in resignation. “Fine! Fine! I suppose you're right.” With a deep breath, he took charge of his kitchen once more, pointing Thorin toward a cutting board and handing him a knife. “Slice these vegetables—thinly, mind you—and mind the pots while I prepare the bread.”

Thorin obeyed, a rare smile playing at the edges of his lips. There was something oddly pleasant about the hobbit’s kitchen, about Bilbo himself, in fact. For the first time in years, Thorin felt the weight on his shoulders lift, if only for a fleeting moment. He worked with surprising ease, the rhythm of the kitchen a welcome distraction from darker thoughts of dragons and distant mountains.

As they worked, Bilbo’s flustered chatter filled the room, though Thorin found it rather amusing.

“What is this even about?” Bilbo finally asked, stirring one of the simmering pots. “I’m preparing a meal for a gathering I know nothing of, and for strangers, no less! Forgive me, but I barely know you, Mister Oakenshield!”

Thorin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I take it Gandalf neglected to inform you.”

“Gandalf?” Bilbo exclaimed, nearly spilling the soup. “That old wizard! He did say something about an ‘adventure’ this morning, which I very clearly declined.”

“Declined?” Thorin’s brow arched in surprise.

“Yes, declined! I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree has much use for adventures. Certainly not me! Do I look like the sort to go gallivanting off into danger?”

Thorin looked him over appraisingly, eyes twinkling with mirth. “No, if I’m being honest, you look more like a grocer.”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” Bilbo muttered, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t look like a grocer! I could be an adventurer if I wished. Did you know that my great-great-great-great-uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a real horse?”

“Is that so?” Thorin indulged him.

“Yes! In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks, swinging his club with such might that he knocked the Goblin-king’s head clean off! It sailed a hundred yards and landed down a rabbit hole, and thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time!”

Bilbo’s pride in the tale was evident, and Thorin couldn’t help but smile, amused by the hobbit’s sudden enthusiasm for adventure—despite his earlier protests.

“Here, taste this,” Bilbo said, interrupting Thorin’s thoughts as he offered a spoonful of the soup.

Thorin leaned in, tasting the broth, and hummed appreciatively. “That is fine soup, Master Baggins.”

“Family recipe,” Bilbo said, clearly pleased with himself.

As the preparations continued, Bilbo busied himself with more tales, and Thorin, to his own surprise, found that he enjoyed listening. It was peaceful, listening to the hobbit’s stories of a life so far removed from his own. Here in this little kitchen, with the warmth of the fire and the simple task of preparing a meal, Thorin felt a rare contentment.

At last, when the table was set and the food prepared, Thorin turned to Bilbo, his tone more serious. “Master Baggins,” he began, startling the hobbit from his task, “I would tell you my story now.”

Bilbo blinked, then nodded, taking a seat as Thorin gestured for him to do so. Thorin sat opposite him, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across the room.

With a deep breath, Thorin recounted the tale of Erebor—of the dragon Smaug, of the desolation wrought upon his people, and of the long, bitter years spent in exile. As he spoke, he watched Bilbo’s face change, amusement giving way to concern, and finally, fear. He couldn’t fault the hobbit for his reaction; it was a story filled with loss and peril.

“I cannot guarantee your safety,” Thorin admitted solemnly, his voice low. “Nor will I be responsible for your fate. But if you are to be what Gandalf believes you can be, we will need your help to reclaim what was stolen from us—our home.”

For a long moment, Bilbo was silent, his small frame hunched under an invisible weight. Thorin could almost see the thoughts turning in his head, the quiet struggle within him. Though they had only just met, Thorin found himself liking the hobbit. He was unsure yet whether he could trust him fully, but if they had met under different circumstances, Thorin thought he might have enjoyed getting to know Bilbo better. Perhaps, in time, they could even have been friends.

“I—I don’t know,” Bilbo stammered at last, his voice shaky. “I’ve never left this place, not once.”

Thorin nodded, thoughtful. He understood the appeal of the Shire, its charm, its tranquility. He even envied it. For all his efforts to make the Blue Mountains his home, they had never truly felt like one. And though Erebor was his birthright, the truth was he no longer knew if it would ever feel like home again.

“At least hear the others out when they arrive,” Thorin said, offering a small smile. “I will not hold you to anything if you choose to decline.”

When Bilbo remained silent, Thorin found himself continuing, his voice tinged with a longing he didn’t quite understand. "But in other circumstances, Master Baggins, I would love nothing more than to sit here, share a cup of tea, and listen to your tales for hours on end.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the doorbell rang. Both hobbit and dwarf turned to the door.

“They’re here,” Thorin said, standing from the table. He crossed the room and opened the door to greet his company, his expression turning more serious.

As the others filed in, filling the quiet of the place with noise and movement, Thorin found himself wishing for a little more time—just a bit longer with Bilbo, in the peace of his home. But the road ahead called him, with all its dangers and responsibilities. Such peace, he knew, was too much to hope for.

---

So this was inspired by my own musing. Once I have more ideas, I'll probably turn this one into multiple chapters. But for now, I hope you enjoyed this one! ---

Now posted in ao3 as well! xoxo

[itosevenito]

I wrote a small Christmas-themed Aralas short :

Chapter One

It was that time of year again. The members of the Fellowship had ridden in from their respective realms to join in celebrations with the Lords and Ladies of Imladris. Lord Elrond had insisted on holding the Yule commemorations in his house due to the overall friendly attire of the realm. Legolas himself was ecstatic, in the past present years, Mirkwood – having been now renamed to its original name of Greenwood – had been preoccupied with keeping the enemies out of the palace. But this year was different, now with the threats to their peace eradicated, beings such as himself were free to celebrate in bliss. 

Legolas could not wait to see the newly appointed King of Gondor again, ever since his crowning a few years ago, the Elven Prince had begun to see his love less since he’d set his heart on restoring the woods of Ithilien. However, all his beloved members and friends were finally gathering to share in the happiness. He was one of the last to arrive, having had some commotion amongst his elves that delayed his departure– Gimli did not tire of the subject. 

Once he had rode through the gates, the hobbits, Gandalf, Gimli and Boromir were standing there in wait for him, whilst the twins, Arwen, Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel, Erestor and Lindir – who had been preparing for the last month – were already there to greet them. Legolas was confused upon finding Aragorn missing from their meeting place– just before the gates of Imladris. “Aye, My King sent me forth with ill tidings…” Boromir spoke up, after everyone had fully gathered that not everyone was indeed present. “And just when were ye gonna tell us about this, laddie?” Gimli grumbled, setting himself down on a nearby rock. Legolas glanced towards the man of Gondor with anxious eyes, he had not heard of Aragorn’s setback. Was he alright? 

Boromir in return, rolled his eyes at Gimli, before responding, “He had an urgent case to take care of before he could leave. He believed to make it two days from now.” He explained, causing the hobbits to sigh sadly. “Thou shalt not be so disheartened!” Glorfindel then cried, his golden hair waving in the wind. “A feast there is tonight! We will have it merrily and wait therein for King Elassar to arrive in our homely house.” Erestor rolled his eyes at his partner's proud and confident tone as he dramatically led the hobbits towards the hall of fire. Legolas smiled. Soon Gimli, Boromir and the twins departed also, with Elrond and Gandalf (deep in conversation) made their way towards the thick and rich gardens with Lindir trailing languorously behind them. Soon Legolas was left in Arwen’s presence, and the two shared a warm embrace. 

“All is well in Ithilien?” She asked, peeling away and fixing him under her piercing azure eyes. “Most,” Legolas replied, intertwining their arms together as they walked into the house, “The elves are delighted to work on nurturing a forest so much like their own, however homesickness is quite a striking disease.” Arwen laughed at the joke. “Yes, I do believe I remember your reaction to being away from Greenwood on your first visit here.” She giggled at his dismayed expression. “I was just five-hundred!” He cried, forming quite an informal pout. “Such a measly age for a great warrior prince.” She said, smiling wide. “Oh dear, was I not informed that ‘such a great warrior prince’ was meant to skip that age? I need to have a word with my teachers after this holiday.” Legolas asked, frowning. “Yes, I should have a serious word with them.” Arwen nodded sternly before they both burst into a fit of laughter. 

Four days passed in a mere blink, and soon enough, Aragorn rode through the stone arch of Imladris, dressed in his ranger gear. Legolas barely repressed an eye roll at the choice. “Really, Estel?” Elrohir cried, exasperated, “You have this giant wardrobe full of fancy, rich clothing and you wear…. that.” Elladan shook his head beside his brother. “I think there be nuffing wrong with Mr. Strider’s clothes.” Samwise spoke up, crossing his arms in a display of dominance. The twins giggled at him and the hobbit soon blushed in embarrassment before hiding himself behind Frodo. “See, Samwise approves.” Aragorn said, swinging himself off his horse, grinning like a dork. 

“Yes, because Samwise is too polite to say otherwise.” Legolas voiced, moving forward to embrace his love. Aragorn accepted the hug with little hesitation. Gimli gagged from somewhere to their left, “Get a rooommmm.” He moaned and everyone laughed at him. Soon they all went off to their respective rooms whilst Gimli complained to Meriadoc and Peregrin about “Havin’ to deal with ‘ose two was a rough nightmare!” 

Aragorn snorted and pulled Legolas in closer. “You look beautiful.” He murmured, kissing him on the cheek. The Prince flushed, he didn’t really look all that stunning, he was wearing a simple white gown with a silver belt and brown shoes. “I couldn’t say the same about you…” he said in turn and the King’s jaw went slack. “Legolas! Does thou mock me so?” He asked, pushing Legolas away from him. “Yes,” he replied after being pushed away. “How could one not mock you?” 

“Samwise didn’t.” “We’ve been through this.”

“I’d like to properly go through it again.”

“How was the first time not properly!?” 

“Because I said so.” “Oh, apologies, Your Highness.”

“Bow down to me, peasant.”

“I think you’ve forgotten who you speak of.”

“Who are you again?” “A peasant, apparently.” “You look like one.”

“At least I’m a beautiful one.”

“Who lied to thee?”

“THOU JUST SPOKE IT!”

“I have no memory of this… do you deem to make a fool of me, peasant!?”

“Oh my Eru…” Legolas sighed before tugging at Aragorn’s arm and pulling him in for a kiss. “Needy peasant…” the King mumbled and Legolas slapped him, “Sorry, sorry!” 

“PIPPIN YULE!” Pippin yelled, jumping up beside the tree. “PIPPIN!” Merry cried “It’s Merry Yule. Not Pippin Yule!” He cried. “No fair! Why do you get a title!” Pippin voiced his disappointment. “I didn’t choose it!” Cried Merry in disbelief. “TRAITOR!” 

Whilst the two hobbits argued back and forth, the others were busy moving around from table to table, enjoying the foods of the fine elven chefs in the kitchens. Legolas sat on the floor beside the tree with his head resting upon his lover’s shoulder. Gimli and Boromir were speaking of their own love lives because they thought that everyone should know (in reality they were jealous of all the coupling around them and brought the attention to themselves), Elrond and Arwen were dancing together as the Elven band plucked at their string instruments merrily in the background, Gandalf was watching whilst smoking his pipe with a newly arrived Biblo, Frodo was holding a crying Samwise after he had received his present which happened to be the finest gift for a gardener; a pair of cutters. Meanwhile on the opposite side of the hall, the twins were harassing Erestor whilst Glorfindel watched on, incredulity amused. 

“Lord Glorfindel might return to the Halls of Mandos sooner than any would have anticipated…” Aragorn murmured, taking Legolas’ hand in his own. The Prince laughed, “Aye, the famous Balrog slayer, hero of the realms, reborn, and the bane of the Nazgul taken down by a fuming partner.” Legolas giggled, adjusting his head position. “Sounds like a fairy tale.” Aragorn replied, casting a look over to Erestor. “Might become a reality soon however.” Legolas smiled. 

The day went on like this for hours, until Gandalf eventually roped everyone onto the dance floor and got the band to play – in Gimli’s words – ‘less depressing music’. Everyone danced with sounds of cherry laughter and blissful sounds as they all tried to manoeuvre around one another without toppling down to the ground. After ten minutes, Merry and Pippin ended up falling over Aragorn’s feet and declared that the dancing should become a competition to see who could last the longest. 

Around another hour the only left standing were Legolas and Aragorn, Elrond and Arwen, and finally Glorfindel and Erestor. “Stupid elves…” Gimli muttered, crossing his arms over his red undershirt. “Not an elf!~” Aragorn sang smugly. The dwarf tossed a gold mug at the King’s head which he gracefully dodged and stuck his tongue out at the fuming dwarf. “Yes, this be the greatest Gondorian King, first to sit upon the throne in years, the saviour of realms, the–” Legolas began before Aragorn silenced him with a kiss. “Enough of that, peasant.” Everyone in the room groaned. Legolas pouted as they danced around the floor, “My rights are being taken away! Lord Elrond!” He whined. “Pity…” the Elven Lord replied, twirling his daughter around as she laughed. 

Soon Aragorn’s measly human legs gave out and tripped Legolas onto the ground. The Prince ignored all the King’s pointless apologises as they watched the last two pairs. Soon, Glorfindel stepped on Erestor’s toes and got a painful cry, and a fuming partner as they were instructed to sit out by Merry. Lord Elrond and Arwen were crowned the winners and offered a pipe from Bilbo. Both respectfully declined. 

As night drew nearer, Legolas stood on his balcony, gazing up at the stars high above. He whispered a prayer to Varda before going in and sitting down beside Aragorn, who had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace. The Elven Prince smiled softly before dousing the blaze and finding a spare blanket before snuggling in beside his lover and placing the blanket on the both of them and falling asleep blissfully leaning on Aragorn.

[msbilberry]

Mirror for the bride of the King under the Mountain.

MsBilberry

Chapter 2 of 5

That morning seemed to bode well for nothing bad. Bilbo woke up and, having washed and dressed, went to breakfast. There was some kind of unusual excitement in the corridors, not the same as always. The dwarves were fussing around, carrying various things, chests and even interior items somewhere. This seemed strange to Bilbo, but he did not attach any importance to it. Until he saw that all these items were being carried into one room, which was located in the same wing of the palace as his bedroom, as well as the bedrooms of Thorin and his nephews. Hobbits are famous for their curiosity and Bilbo, of course, was no exception. He followed the dwarves carrying utensils into this huge room. It was amazing how spacious and bright it was! In the middle there was a wide four-poster bed, wardrobes made of expensive wood were placed along the walls, and several chests with rich inlay stood next to the window. Who is this room for? Bilbo didn't understand, but he was very intrigued.

And then he saw a thing more beautiful than which he had never seen before. Yes, hobbits are indifferent to wealth and gold, but they are able to appreciate the skill of jewelers and the work of skilled craftsmen. Near the bed stood a huge mirror, the frame of which was richly decorated with sapphires of marvelous purity.

“The color is the same as Thorin’s eyes,” thought Bilbo.

He walked closer to the mirror. Beautiful and amazing, it seemed to attract the hobbit to itself. In the reflection of the mirror, Bilbo seemed to look even smaller than he actually was. Suddenly, behind him in the reflection, he saw Bombur. He brought carpets, and then, seeing Bilbo looking in the mirror, he decided to come closer. Bilbo shuddered, not knowing why he was afraid. Bombur only laughed in response.

“Bilbo, it's me! Don't you recognize your friends anymore?” the dwarf thundered cheerfully.

“No, what are you talking about?” Bilbo was a little embarrassed. “I just shouldn’t have been here, it was out of surprise.”

“Luxurious mirror, isn't it?” Bombur nodded towards the mirror. “Like the whole room. No wonder, this is for our future queen!”

There was a pause. In the silence that followed, it was as if Bilbo's heartbeat could be heard.

“What?” that's all Bilbo could say.

But Bombur, who did not notice the hobbit’s reaction to his last words, calmly continued.

“This room is reserved by order of Thorin for our future queen. And the mirror is a special wedding gift for her; it once belonged to the mother of Thorin, Frerin and Dis. The bride will arrive in Erebor in a few days, along with her family and retinue, and a grand wedding awaits us. Didn't you know? It's still a secret, but I thought everyone close to the royal family knew it. It seems that the official coronation will take place then, which has not happened yet”, he said.

Bilbo staggered. It seemed to him that he was about to fall, but he could not allow this, especially in front of others. His legs felt like they were made of cotton, vision was swimming, everything was confused in the head. It was necessary to leave this room, Bilbo really wanted to be alone, locking himself in his bedroom. He didn't want to listen anything anymore; he had learned enough. Several more dwarves entered the room, calling Bombur and playfully reproaching him for shirking his work. He laughed loudly and trudged into the corridor to help carry the table.

Taking advantage of this, Bilbo put on as realistic an appearance of calm as possible on his face and left the room. The corridor seemed to go on forever. Finally the hobbit got into his bedroom and, bolting the door, collapsed into bed. There was no longer even a thought about breakfast. Actually, now there were no thoughts about anything, except for one thing - Thorin was going to get married!

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

I see your re-opening matchups and I remember I got a lord of the rings matchup from you awhile ago and loved it! So I thought why not get one for the hobbit since they're reopened lol🩷🩷

Hiii!!! If it isn't to much trouble may I have (male) hobbit matchup please. My pronouns are she/her. Im a Capricorn, my Mbti type is infj-a/infj-t. I tend to be shy around new people but I can be somewhat loud with people who im close to. My height is 5'0. I would describe my aesthetic as girly/soft/cottegecore, lots of long dresses and skirts.

Im not very athletic and im not a big fan of sports but I love to go roller and ice skating. I also love to read books and to also cook and bake food. I also like to garden. I've been playing the violin for 7 years. I love animals and im planing on becoming a wildlife veterinarian. I like to Watch nature/animal documentaries. I also like sweets.

Somethings I dislike are people who bend or ruin my books and people who speak over me when im trying to talk.I love music, I can listen to any genre and like it but my favorites are indie,bedroom pop and classic rock. My ideal relationship would be with someone who is loyal and supportive. sorry if i spelt anything wrong. Hope im not bothering you:)

(I did in fact copy and paste that lmao 🩷🩷)

i genuinely love that you copy pasted that tbh, im always like darling you wrote this whole paragraph unsaved???? what if it gets lost. what if you want another matchup and dont have it. what if i reach out to you to say ive accidentally deleted it? ANYTHING could happen. maybe im too sensitive but like this happened too many times to my own writing, i wouldnt want it to happen to anyone else. also thank you sm!!! it's great that you liked the other match up enough to come request a new one and i hope you like this one just as much!

I ship you with...

Fili!

It's a wonderfully normal Tuesday in the Shire and you're in the small garden in front of your door, humming a tune with a smile on your face as you repot some of your flowers. You're content, you're at peace, you're doing nothing out of the ordinary and expecting nothing out of the ordinary to happen either and you're perfectly happy with that. And that's when it does happen. You've never seen Bilbo run. You've barely seen Bilbo do anything but sit. But there he is, panting with his hands on his thighs right in front of you, and you set down your pots with a frown and peel off your gloves and tell him to take a deep breath. He's blabbering on about wizard and adventure and you're quite sure you haven't ever been this confused, so you open your door and pull him inside and brew him a tea. And he tells you about Gandalf and his preposition of an "adventure" and the way Bilbo had bid him good day and gone inside.

You brew him another tea, and another, and then you agree to come home with him, to make dinner and dessert and to stay because, well, for a hobbit, that simple conversation with Gandalf alone is already a reason for panic. You're barely sitting down to eat when there's a knock on the door. A knock on the door and a dwarf in front of it. And then there are more.

That's the first day you meet Fili Durin. That's the day you fall in love.

Because Fili is everything. He's handsome and funny and loyal to a fault and you seriously hope no one had paid attention to you when you'd seen him for the first time because yes, you'd been that baffled. Fili may or may not have been the reason you'd agreed to come to the quest. And why not? They needed every helping hand they could get, plus there was no way you'd let Bilbo go alone. So when morning came and you woke up to Bilbo paddling about his home and heard of his plan to run after the company, you'd simply had to come with him.

You'd thought it would have taken you a while to warm up to everybody, like it always did. You didn't talk much that first evening, but the day after, you instantly realised that this was not usual, not normal in any way whatsoever. The dwarves were social and chatty and Kili kept bombarding you with questions from the side, with jokes and laughter, and soon the rest of them joined as well, Bofur and Balin and Gandalf and almost everybody else, and yet somehow you kept sneaking glances at Fili, almost involuntarily.

But Fili was quieter than the rest of the company. Not that he was quiet, no, but he didn't talk that much. So the first time he held watch, when you sat up with a sigh and gave up on sleep, that was the first time you actually had a conversation. Whispered, as to not wake anybody up, but still there. He makes you laugh like barely anyone ever has before, he listens to you so attentively it makes you blush, he smiles when you tell him how much you miss your books and your garden and you find out that he loves nature just as much as you do.

Over the next weeks, you talk more often. You laugh more often and smile more often. You ride next to him and you sleep close to him and sometimes you talk at night, when one of you has to keep watch or when you can't sleep.

When you run into the trolls, you realise for the first time what this quest actually means for you - and that you're totally unprepared for it. You go ice skating when the lake has frozen over in winter, yes, but that's about it when it comes to keeping your body moving and in shape. You confide in Fili a few days later and he offers to teach you. If there's anyone in the company who knows about weapons, it's Fili. You're genuinely shocked with how many of them he pulls out of his coat. But he's patient and he's actually quite a competent teacher, so whenever you find the time, he's there, and you take a while, but you get better at it. You get good enough to defend yourself properly.

It's then when you first kiss. One of those times that you stop and set up camp a little early, when you and Fili sneak off to train. He's showing you how to wield a sword for one of the first times (he'd started with a dagger and knives and thinks you're doing those well enough by now) and he's behind you, his arms around you and he's warm and comfortable and when you turn to look at him, there's that undeniable tension between you. It's pretty perfect. You don't mind.

From then on, it's sweet. Fili is adorable, he's a bit daft at times, but he's the absolute best. He holds you and he smothers you in kisses and he makes you laugh, he braids your hair and begs you to do his and he brings you pebbles and shows you birds and helps you climb up a tree or two.

Once you reclaim Erebor, once Thorin reclaims his throne, no dragon sickness, no nothing, you realise you're actually dating the crown prince now. Because that's what you're doing. You're dating. The thought makes you a little giddy.

You marry Fili one fine summer afternoon. It's hard to leave the Shire behind, of course, but Bilbo promises to stay at the mountain with Thorin until they're old enough to retire to Bag End, so you're not all that alone at the start - plus, Fili helps you bring some of home to Erebor. Some of your plants and books, your dresses and your violin and everything else you need, and suddenly, Erebor feels a lot like home anyway.

You visit the Shire with him - with your husband - as often as you can. And yes, a part of yourself will stay there forever, but Erebor needs you, and Fili needs you, and he makes you so, so very happy that you'd choose him again and again and again without a second thought. So you don't mind all that much in the end.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 17

Hello! So I've made this one a little longer to make up for the two weeks of posting I missed, even though it's still a bit of a filler chapter, but I promise more exciting things are coming. Also I may be going on a small hiatus after posting this or the next chapter so I can get myself ready for uni. But apart from that, Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 3013

Warnings: Mentions of injuries and distressing events from previous chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

<; Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 >

Part 2: Chapter 17 -

I am confusion.

Moira (Definition): A person’s fate or destiny. (Noun / Origin: Irish / Moi·ruh)

Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. 30th September 2939 of the Third Age (1339 in Shire-reckoning)

“And he just dragged you both in unconscious and decided to let you stay? Just like that?? Yavanna he is a strange hobbit.”

We both nodded in unison at Mrs Greenfoot’s questions and watched as she let out a guffaw, her eyes widening in disbelief at the story we told about our arrival. We had left out the parts where our belongings had materialised out of thin air and the near-death experience we had falling from the sky, otherwise I was sure we would be chased around with a cane and one unhappy hobbit lady yelling about us being delirious.

We were currently sat what seemed like a sewing room, with a folding screen standing tall on one side, whilst the other wall was taken up by a large cabinet and further shelving, that housed threads and fabrics of all kinds of colours and textures. I was currently sat on a small circular ottoman stool, watching Gladiola as she stared at the numbers on a measuring tape she had wrapped firmly around Kay’s waist. Brushing a brown curl out of her face, she released the tape and turned to a small table next to her, jotting numbers down on some paper.

“Well that’s a first.” She began. “It’s not every day Bilbo just lets anyone into his home. Not after he found Lobelia that one time trying to nick an entire drawer of handkerchiefs, my word,” she said with a chuckle, “Their screaming match could be heard from across the river!”

“He didn’t ask us right off the hook, though.” Kay responded. “We explained our situation and managed to convince him in the end.”

“Right.” Gladiola said whilst wrapping the tape around Kay's bicep. “Just make sure you two stay out of trouble – for both your reputations and Bilbo’s. The hobbits here love gossip, nor are all of them friendly to outsiders, if you haven’t already noticed.” She warned.

“Yeah we’ve noticed. I counted 9 who changed their route to avoid us, and don’t get me started on the staring.” I answered unenthusiastically.

Gladiola let out a short laugh. “You’re going to have to get used to it for a little while, I’m afraid. At least until they warm up to you. Hopefully.” She made one final note on the paper and put her tape measure away. “Now, keep in mind I am limited to what I have access to in Hobbiton, but why don’t you two tell me what kind of clothes you want.”

We spent a while sharing our ideas – I asked about a simple layered dress with a bodice that was similar to what Mrs Greenfoot was wearing, and some dungarees. Kay described a something similar, but with her own colour scheme, Gladiola nodding along as she wrote it all down. During that time, Bilbo had returned with the tea, and had a kettle boiling away as we all sat at the dining table.

“Ok, I’ll see what Mrs Brownlock has at her stall tomorrow morning and get started.” Gladiola explained.

Bilbo reached into his pocket and brought out a sack of coins, handing it over to Gladiola, insisting she had some form of money-based payment for the help she was provided, and she received it gratefully. I stood up and walked over to the stove to pour another cup of tea. At that point, loud chatter was heard outside, growing nearer, and soon enough the front door swung open, several small figures darting in with haste, followed by a very out of breath older hobbit.

The taller hobbit leant on the door, his face glowing a rosy red as he heaved deep breaths, and we all watched as several hobbit children scampered around, yelling with glee as smiles plastered each of their similar faces. All of them had mops of brown curly hair, varying in shades, lengths and styles, that swished around as they tumbled down the hallway. Though that came to a stop as they reached the kitchen.

The tallest of the children entered first and immediately froze, her large, dark blue eyes, that matched her dress, widened as they honed in on us. Another two crashed into her, causing her to stumble, and one by one the rest followed, crashing into each other until they all were stood still in the hallway, staring in with wide eyes.

Finally, the older hobbit caught up, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He wore a grey button-up, tucked into a simple pair of brown trousers held up by suspenders of the same brown colour. A striking pair of dark blue eyes that matched the tallest child in front of him were slightly hidden by a mass of dark brown curls that spiralled down just past his pointed ears. His eyes were wide, darting around as his face held an awkward expression at the sight of the four of us.

“My love,” he greeted Gladiola, who gave him a warm smile in return. “I uhh – didn’t… realise we were having guests today?”

“Are you an elf?”

My body jerked slightly, startled as I looked down to find one of the smaller kids had silently approached me, and was now staring up with giant brown doe eyes as she poked at my knee.

“Uhhhh, no?” I answered confusedly.

“But you’re so tall?!” This time it was one of the boys that spoke up, hurrying over to join what I guessed was his sister to where I was stood by the stove.

“She has long straight hair like an elf!”

“And look! Her ears are pointy!”

“Ah, no,” I answered with a nervous laugh, “They just look pointy when I face forward.” I turned my head and pointed at my ear. “I can assure you they’re round.”

The two of them looked like they didn’t believe a word I said, and I felt myself begin to sweat slightly at the pressure of their staring. That was, until the girl glanced at Kay, and immediately set her sights on her.

“What about you!” She exclaimed, causing Kay to jump in her seat. “Are you an elf?!”

“She not tall enough.” Said the boy, and I burst out laughing at the sight of Kay’s offended face, her mouth open in shock. “Maybe she’s half elf.”

“Melba! Rothad! That’s enough!”

Gladiola’s voice resonated through the room, silencing the two kids.

“Sorry ma.” They both said in unison.

“Mum, who are these people?” Piped up the tallest who had come through first. She was definitely the eldest of the group, her protective nature showing with the wary look on her face as she subconsciously picked up the smallest child and held her in her arms.

“They’re friends of Bilbo’s dearie,” Mrs Greenfoot answered. “They’re staying here for a while, so I’ll be making them both some outfits to fit in.”

“But I thought Bilbo didn’t like outsiders?” Revealed the eldest, much to Bilbo’s chagrin.

“W-well it’s not that I dislike everyone who comes through the Shire,” He defended with a red tint to his ears. “I’ve just happened to have some unfortunate encounters with the men of Bree during the odd visit, that’s all.”

The eldest looked unconvinced, her brows pinched as she pinned him with an intense glare, causing Bilbo to shrink in his chair slightly at the sight of the challenging child.

Gladiola quickly went to break the tension, distracting her eldest child with a suggestion to introduce everyone, to which she did.

“My name is Menegilda, and these are my sisters, Melba, Berylla and Lalia.” She gestured to the girls on her right, then to the three boys grinning on her left. “And these are my brothers, Rothad, Griffo and Madoc. Also, this is our father.” She pointed her dad who had sneaked passed the seven kids, and was pouring himself a cup of tea.

He gave us both a warm grin, walking over to give his wife a kiss on the forehead, before introducing himself. “Gilbert, it’s lovely to meet you both, and to see you again Bilbo!” He clapped the other hobbit on the back, sitting down on the chair by Gladiola, who turned towards us.

“I hope you guys are up for the challenge, cause you’ve got seven kids to look after.” She said.

Her sentence was met with a wide range of reactions: Kay and I nodded in agreement, whilst Gilbert slumped in his chair with a sigh of relief (turns out he likes having his weekends off with the kids, but it was nice to have a break sometimes). The children were a mix, most of them shouting in excitement whilst others like Menegilda and Madoc – who were the eldest of the group – looked unsure at the thought of strangers looking after them. I didn’t blame them though, I’ve had my fair share of babysitters in the past, and not knowing them beforehand made things a little awkward when it came to them telling you what to do.

Though we no longer had any choice on whether or not we wanted to get to know them, because the two of us were instantly swept away, Melba and Rothad in the lead as they dragged us further into the house. I gave Kay an exasperated look.

“I think I’m gonna have a hard time remembering all these names.” I whispered as much as I could over the yelling.

Kay scoffed. “But you can recite the names of over eighty Transformers characters? It shouldn’t be that hard.” She smirked as I pouted with a frown.

 It wasn’t long before Kay and I found ourselves sat on the floor of one of the kid’s bedrooms, being prodded with questions as some played with our hair, whilst the others scurried around the room, grabbing random things of theirs to show us. Menegilda had remained in the corner at first, but soon enough she was sat in front of us with the youngest in her lap – Lalia – after seeing my wrist splint and asking how it happened, but now she quietly spoke about what the seven of them usually got up to.

Hours passed, and we found ourselves waving goodbye to the Greenfoot family, exhausted from the children’s constant playing, and full from both Bilbo and Mr & Mrs Greenfoot effortlessly putting together the last 4 meals of the hobbit day - Luncheon, Afternoon Tea, Dinner and Supper. As a thanks, I promised to make another batch of Victorian sponge cakes, much to the excitement of the large family at the thought of trying a new type of pudding. And with that, the two of us and Bilbo finally made our way up the grassy path, dimly lit by the dying light of the golden hour, ready to go to bed.

25 Days Later – T.A. 25th October 2939 of the Third Age (1339 in Shire-reckoning)

It had been almost a month since we were introduced to the Greenfoot family, and things had been getting better. Kay’s concussion had finally cleared, the dizzy spells it caused now completely gone, and the large cut on her forehead was slowly losing its scabbing. We also found out, much to Kay’s relief, that her spinal injury was simply a bruised bone, and the blood-red bruising on her back had finally begun to turn into a mottled green-yellow.

As for me, my ribs were slow on their recovery journey, my breathing still painful from time to time depending how much rest I had that day. My ankle had stopped swelling finally, after Erard had found out I had been up and about too much for his liking and had threatened to twist the other ankle if I didn’t take bed rest. He came in once a week to check up on us and change my wrist splint, which apparently wasn’t going to fully heal for another 4-8 weeks, much to my disappointment. The large gash on my hand was my least favourite to think about – it was fine, not infected or anything, but it wasn’t nice to look at the reddened, gnarly raised skin, knowing that soon there would be an ugly white jagged scar replacing what was once the smooth skin of my palm. I also hated the fact that every time I looked at it, I would be reminded of what was probably the most terrifying and painful night of my life. But apart from that, all our other scratches and bruises had disappeared, apart from the larger cuts scarring slightly here and there.

A knock sounded at my bedroom door, and I was snapped out my thoughts as Kay called through, saying that Gladiola was in the kitchen with some of the clothes she’d made and if I was able to come out. Standing up from my bed, I approached the door and opened it, following Kay to the kitchen.

We spotted Mrs Greenfoot as we entered the kitchen, greeting her as she hauled a large bundle of cream coloured material onto the table. Pulling it apart, she separated it into two piles, picking something out of one of them, before unravelling it.

I gasped in delight as I recognised the shape of clothing that spanned that was longer than Gladiola herself.

“A shift!” I exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to make one of these!”

“Well now you have one!” Gladiola announced proudly as she admired her work. “It’s only a simple undergarment, but the cotton is breathable enough for you both to wear it comfortably under any outfit.” She explained.

We both chattered excitedly with the hobbit, who had handed us our garments along with a set of cotton pants and a type of chest covering that was similar to a modern bra, and ushered us off to try them all on to check that they fitted well.

Twirling around, I admired the shift as much as I could in the small mirror on top of the dresser, watching as it swayed with my movement. It was only an undergarment, but for some reason it made me feel so happy and giddy inside.

Sitting on the bed, I slipped on the knitted socks, admiring the patterns in the cream colour that wound and twisted upwards until it reached halfway up my shins. Wiggling my toes at the soft feel of the wool, I stood up and bounded out the door, eager to show Mrs Greenfoot how well everything had fitted.

Kay appeared not long after me, sporting her own matching shift and set of socks. Gladiola was immediately upon us, tugging and prodding at the fabric to check if it fitted her standards. Apparently it did, and she relaxed back onto her heels with a satisfied huff.

“It looks like nothing needs adjusting, are you both happy with what you have so far?” she asked looking up at us. We both nodded with a ‘mhm’, smiles on our faces. “Brilliant, I best be off then, got a linen delivery coming in the hour.”

“Wait!” I blurted, and quickly hurried to the pantry, much to the surprise of the hobbit. I returned not long after with a basket in my arms, a light blue tartan cloth draped over the top of it, and handed it over. “We made some scones for you to take home, and there’s some clotted cream and strawberry jam that Bilbo taught us how to make in there as well.”

Gladiola let out a noise of delight as she lifted the cloth up to reveal a batch of giant scones, taking a deep breath of the freshly baked scents. We walked her to the door as she thanked us both, and waved as she disappeared down the hill.

Returning to our rooms as it was now late in the evening, I busied myself with tidying up, before sitting down and playing around with the ribbons on my dresser and trying to see what hairstyles suited the heatless curls I had put in last night . Deciding on a loose low ponytail that allowed my light fringe and curtain bangs to flow freely, I tightened the ribbon, and froze on the spot.

That same feeling had returned. The same one from almost a month ago when I thought I was going to be mauled to death by some ghost-looking beast. I still hadn’t decided whether it was a dragon or a demon yet, since my fear had blocked me from remembering the creature.

I forced myself to glance the my left, using the mirror to look at the wardrobe behind me that stood ominously in the faint glow of my candle. No blue. Thank god.

But that feeling didn’t leave.

It felt like a pull – a sudden motivation to do something you hadn’t thought of. But this time it didn’t pull me towards the wardrobe. Instead I felt it wanting me to walk out the door. I stood up, but not before I opened one of my drawers, taking the sharp sewing scissors and zipping them into the pocket of the waterproof coat I had worn when we dropped into Middle Earth. Slipping the coat over the shift I was wearing, I kept the wool socks on and slid on my walking boots, grimacing at the small splashes of old blood stains that scattered the material.

Picking up a lantern and lighting it, I quietly made my way through the hallways and reached the front entrance, before a voice called out.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I spun around, staring into the darkness that stretched beyond the light of my lantern, until I spotted a concerned Bilbo as he emerged from the shadows holding a candle.

“Uhhhhh, just for a walk.”

“At night.” He deadpanned.

“I think all this bed rest is making me restless.” I half-lied, since it was kinda true.

He eyed me suspiciously, but backed down. “Alright, but be no longer than half an hour.”

I nodded, and after he disappeared back into his room, I opened the door and crept into the night.

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

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

<; Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 >

Return to Fic Masterlist

Return to Navigation

Chances are I may be going on a small hiatus, but if not, see you soon for Chapter 18! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

Taglist:

@opheliasdrowningg @mrsdurin @g1gglef1t @qmabailor @jupiterrdarling @emstar07 @geewoo-ko @phanryesworld @stuckupstucky @rebeccao03

(Message me if your tag isn’t working)

[oliverreedmasterass]

Words: 4k

Summary: the guys get up to some hijinks and hair trouble on the set of their Heat Above music video 

Warnings: language, Sam’s hair in jeopardy

_____________________________________________________________

Sam would have been more eager to get in front of the camera for their new music video if it wasn’t obvious that the entire set was some kind of elaborate prank caused by the mastermind that was unfortunately his older brother.

Sam didn’t have any solid evidence to prove his theory that what he had originally thought would be a music video for their upcoming single was actually an opportunity for Josh to get blackmail of him, but he trusted his gut. It only made sense that Josh would be motivated to make a huge fool out of him after Sam had called him a hobbit earlier in the week in front of their entire production team. The technicians all thought it was hilarious, and so had Sam, but after taking one look at Josh’s scour, he knew he was going to pay for it later.

And apparently now was later.

Sam stared at his reflection in the mirror with an uncharacteristic grimace. He was dressed in a suit that made him look like the tin man, but that wasn’t the worst part. On top of his head was what looked like an aluminum foil helmet engulfing his entire face. Only Josh could think of putting him in something so god-awful.

“I can’t go out there looking like this,” Sam grumbled to his reflection, messing with the headpiece to try and make it look even mildly better. It was no use. If anything, the headpiece proved that Sam’s best feature was his hair, because it was completely hidden beneath the shining silver, and he looked awful.

To Sam’s horror, Danny invited himself into his trailer without knocking and immediately let out a confused laugh.

“What the hell is on your head?” he asked. Sam winced.

“Am I wearing this right?”

Danny immediately picked up on Sam’s discomfort and hurried to his side, poking at the fabric with confusion.

“I honestly can’t tell,” he admitted after a minute of silent contemplation. “I don’t think there’s any way to wear that and look good.”

“Fuck,” Sam said.

“I’m sure the costume people wouldn’t mind if you chucked it,” Danny suggested.

“Oh no, they’d be heartbroken if you did,” Josh appeared in the doorway, looking at Sam with a smug grin that immediately made him guilty. “They worked so hard on that, it would be a tragedy to toss it in the bin.”

“Why don’t you wear it then?” Sam said, reaching up to tear it off and throw it at Josh’s face. Before he could, Jake joined Josh’s side and, much to Sam’s disdain, started to laugh louder and harder than he had ever heard before. Even more than the time Josh accidentally set his ass on fire when he was trying to light one of his farts.

“I thought I got the short end of the stick when they gave me white tights,” he gasped out after catching his breath. “I was so wrong.”

“I still think you got the short end of the stick with those tights,” Sam told Jake with a frown. “Please don’t take that sash off, you’ll ruin my day if you do.”

“I think your day’s already ruined if you’re gonna have to wear that thing,” Danny told Sam. Sam hated that he was right. Even though he knew Josh would throw a fit, Sam reached up to take the horrid thing off his head.

“Oh no,” Sam’s face caved in with fear.

“What?” his bandmates asked.

“It won’t come off,” Sam whispered.

This caused both Jake and Josh to erupt into such loud and boisterous laughter that Danny had to push them outside and lock the door so he could focus on helping Sam. Sam appreciated the gesture, but he could still hear their cackles outside which made his skin crawl.

“How is it stuck?” Danny asked lightly, coming back to poke at the headpiece.

“I think it got caught in my hair,” Sam winced after giving it another tug. Danny tried to slip his fingers inside the fabric around the crown of Sam’s head and patted around.

“Oh yikes,” he murmured.

“What?”

“You’re right, it’s super tangled.”

“Shit.”

“I have no clue how you managed to do that, dude.”

“Josh must have known this was going to happen.”

“I think you’re giving him way too much credit.”

Sam threw himself back onto the trailer’s leather couch and leaned forward so his head was in between his knees. Danny watched in wonder as Sam attempted to peel the headpiece off, starting around his neck and moving up to the scalp. He made a couple grunts in pain as he got closer to getting it fully off but, by the time he reached the crown of his head, Danny saw what the problem was.

For an unknown reason to him, there was a complex pattern of sequins sewn on the inside of the fabric, which had conveniently intertwined with Sam’s hair in such a chaotic way, Danny wondered if Sam had given himself a noogie, because there was no other explanation for how it could be that bad. It looked bad, like something only scissors could fix. That was news Danny was in no rush to tell Sam.

Sam gave up trying to tug the headpiece off and held his head in his hands with a frown.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” he asked Danny.

“It’s not good,” Danny said.

“Shit,” Sam grumbled.

Outside the door where Jake and Josh’s laughs had finally died down, one of the set PAs knocked on the door.

“We need you out there in 5!” she called in.

“Is it something we can fix in 5?” Sam asked Danny. Danny studied Sam’s face that was pale with fear. His eyes tracked back to the mess of fabric and hair on his head.

“You need 25 minutes at least.”

Someone knocked on the door again and Sam and Danny both shouted that they were coming soon, and to just give them a second. But, to their surprise, instead of the set PA, Jake let himself back into the trailer. Sam was disturbed to find that he had taken off his sash so his white tights left little room to the imagination.

“Josh told me I should ruin your day further,” Jake said with a cheeky smile that quickly fell when he saw the situation on top of Sam’s head.

“How the hell did you do that?” he asked with genuine curiosity, pointing a finger at Sam’s scalp.

“Ask Josh, I’m sure he was behind this,” Sam grumbled.

“He definitely bribed the costume department to have you put that on, but you’re the one who got it all tangled up on your head. Were you breakdancing with it on or something?”

“Are you gonna help me or not?” Sam deadpanned back at his brother. If he wasn’t going to extend a hand, Sam was more than prepared to kick him and his tight pants out of his trailer.

Jake came closer to Sam, which Sam slightly recoiled at, and closely studied his head.

“Mind if I take a stab at it?” he asked. Before Sam could respond that he could as long as he was gentle, Jake planted his bare feet firmly into the tiled floor and grabbed onto the fabric as if it was a ledge he was hanging on for dear life. Sam let out a small gasp and winced, bracing himself for the pain that was inevitably going to happen. While Jake probably had telekinetic powers with Josh through their magic twin powers, he most definitely lacked that psychic connection with Sam as he gave a large yank on the fabric.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Danny tried to step in as Jake wound up to give another pull. Sam could feel heavy tears forming in his eyes, which were squeezed shut because he didn’t want to see what Jake was doing, or frankly those pants up close. His scalp was burning from the strength behind Jake’s tug and he was certain that Jake had successfully ripped a solid clump of hair from his head so he probably looked like he had male pattern baldness. Just his luck.

“It just needs a little coaxing out, that’s all,” Jake replied with determination.

“Usually you don’t coax something out with that much force,” Danny retorted.

Sam felt Jake winding up for a second pull and quickly slapped his hands away from his head to make sure he didn’t lose any more hair than he could help. With a sigh, he opened back his eyes and wiped away some loose tears.

“I’ll keep the stupid thing on for the shoot.”

“What? I almost got it off,” Jake protested.

“No you didn’t,” Danny said. “I think you were enjoying that a little bit too much.”

Sam stood from the couch and flattened the fabric back over his head and down his neck so he looked like a glittery airpod again. Without saying another word, he flung open the door to the trailer, hopped down its steps, and headed for set. Jake and Danny shared an uncertain glance and then followed behind him.

“Can you please put the sash back on?” Danny asked.

“I’ll put it on when I want to,” Jake replied.

As Sam walked closer to the studio, he tried his best to hold a level of confidence that made him look less like a fool. He figured that runway models constantly had to wear dumb shit that made them look like clowns, but somehow they always made it work. It was all about confidence, and Sam was going to make sure that no strange looks or laughs behind his back would tear him down. He was going to own the hell out of his stupid headpiece and make sure that Josh hated every second of it.

“Ah, the man of the hour!” Josh greeted him the second he stepped foot inside. “You kept the headpiece! I must say, you look absolutely stunning, Sammy, like a beautiful metal rod.”

“Not as great as you, Glinda,” Sammy tried his best to poke fun at Josh’s massive sleeves. He despised that Josh didn’t look as ridiculous as he should have in such an odd costume. Sure, it didn’t compare to what Sam was wearing, but he wanted to feel some level of comfort that he wouldn’t stand out on screen as the easiest target to become a meme. Josh gave him a smirk and shook his head with a laugh.

“Glinda? Nice one. I guess I do kinda look like her, huh?”

Danny and Jake made their way onto the set, Jake with his sash back on, and approached Sam and Josh. Danny was wearing a complex chain link headpiece that looked straight out of a Knight fashion catalog and Jake had added another metallic looking scarf around his head.

“It’s out of solidarity,” he explained to Sam with a small smile on his lips. “It’s not really fair if you can’t take yours off, at least right now.”

Josh at first looked frustrated with his band members but his frown changed to a laugh as he studied Danny and Jake longer.

“Those were my canned test runs for Sammy’s wardrobe,” he explained.

“That’s what we figured,” Jake said. “We found them in the dumpster on our way over.”

Sam gave a sniff around Danny and let out a gag.

“I think we look good,” Danny said over Sam’s dry heaving. “I’m getting some serious Medieval vibes.”

“I look like I should be reading people's fortunes,” Jake commented. Then, he turned to Josh. “You look like you could be the leader of a cult.”

“Good,” Josh nodded his head. “That’s what I was going for.”

Jake rolled his eyes with a chuckle and headed off to grab his acoustic guitar. Josh mumbled something about gluing back on one of the rhinestones that had fallen from beneath his eyes and wandered back towards the trailers. Sam, while breathing out of his mouth so he couldn’t smell the dumpster headpiece, leaned into Danny’s side and gave his back a pat.

“Thanks for the solidarity.”

“It’s the least I can do after letting Jake tug at your head like that.”

“That’s right, I was gonna ask a PA for some ibuprofen.”

“But hey, seriously, you don’t look that bad. I’ve seen a lot worse in music videos.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam grinned at Danny. “Like what?”

As Danny fumbled for an answer since he frankly wasn’t prepared to be asked that on the spot, Sam let out his first laugh of the day, gave Danny one more hearty pat, and then went to get some painkillers for his raging headache Jake had caused.

After that mission had been accomplished, Sam retreated back to his organ and tugged on a black suit jacket that was left strewn on his seat. His gut told him it was a truce from Josh, signaling that he no longer had to look like the tin man on camera. As touched as he was by his older brother’s gesture, he was even happier when the director announced that their first shot would be brief before a costume change. So sure, there would be some photographic evidence of his headpiece, but it would be minimal. He could live with that.

“I bartered with Matt to take a solid break after he gets a few shots in so you can actually get that thing off your head,” Jake told Sam as he stepped onto the sound stage. “It looks unbelievably uncomfortable.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Sam nodded back at Jake. “I can’t wait to get this off.”

“I’ll bet. Matt mostly agreed because he told me I need to take a shower,” Jake said.

“I might need some help taking this thing off too,” Danny said as he approached his drums. “I’m a little bit worried that it hasn’t slipped off my head yet.”

“Maybe we’ll be rocking some monk haircuts soon,” Sam chirped.

“Ooh, that could be our new look,” Danny sounded excited. “We’ll really embrace the middle-aged rocker aesthetic. That way people will stop criticizing us for trying too hard to be like the older guys. With bald spots, they’ll just assume we are the old guys.”

“It’s absolutely fool-proof,” Sam agreed.

“If that’s the direction we’re going in, I’m starting my solo career early,” Jake said.

“We should do butt rock,” Danny said over Jake.

“Yes, absolutely yes,” Sam clapped. “Nothing but Staind and Nickelback covers.”

“Do you think Josh can do the butt rock voice?”

“I think he has it in him.”

“You two are unbelievable,” Jake shook his head. Sam and Danny finally snapped out of their daydreaming and laughed at Jake’s disbelief.

“Go off on your solo career and watch as Greta Van Fleet’s butt rock era absolutely obliterates you in the charts,” Sam chirped.

“What’s that about a solo career?” Josh joined the group. “Who’s dipping?”

“No one, just theoretically Jake would leave the group if we started doing butt rock.”

“What the hell is butt rock?”

“Cameras are ready to roll!” Matt, their director, announced from behind the wall of equipment facing the sound stage.

“You will explain butt rock to me later,” Josh pointed between Jake, Sam, and Danny before turning on his heel to find his spot in the front of the stage. Sam adjusted his headpiece one more time before realizing it was a wasted effort, and turned back to face his keys.

“Just a few takes,” he whispered to himself.

It really wasn’t that bad. A large camera pushed on a dolly circled them a few times as they played along to their pre-recorded track. Sam tried to avoid looking into the lense and instead focused on engulfing himself in the music and trying not to laugh at Josh’s attempts to embody Freddie Mercury. They ran through the song three times and then the blinding lights dimmed and Matt called for their much-anticipated break. Sam tapped on a set PA’s shoulder and mumbled his problem to her, which she quickly met with a promise that she would find someone to give him a hand.

So, soon Sam found someone from the hair and makeup department knocking on his trailer door, armed with a brush and pair of scissors.

“The scissors are a last resort,” she was quick to explain after seeing Sam’s concerned stare. “We shouldn’t need them.”

Danny, Jake, and Josh were all inside the trailer with Sam, mostly for emotional support, but also because it was the most interesting thing happening on set. They cleared some space for the hair lady, Deborah, to work her magic, and watched in fascination as she went to work on Sam’s head.

“Oh wow,” she ticked as she reached the crown of his head. “This is a mean knot.”

She fumbled around with the sequins inside the fabric for a bit, freeing a few strands of Sam’s chocolate hair so it fell in front of his eyes. He brushed them away and continued to stare down at his bare feet as Deborah continued on. She was eventually able to release more hair after a solid period of hacking at it with a comb, so the fabric was hanging by one last clump. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief that his bandmates echoed. Watching Deborah work on his hair made them all realize how much of an asset his locks were to the band; they needed to get it insured or they’d be screwed.

Deborah started to sift through the last chunk of hair stuck in the fabric and was evidently struggling as her motions with the comb got more aggressive and panicked. Sam’s eyes were closed again as he took the force but finally he held up a hand to stop Deborah.

“What’s going on up there?”

“I’ve almost got it all out, you’ve just got one clump that’s like a bird’s nest.”

“Cut it,” Sam replied.

“What?” the entire trailer asked.

“Cut it,” Sam repeated himself with a shrug. “If it’s nearly off I don’t want to deal with it anymore. Hair grows back, it shouldn’t be that noticeable.”

“Are you sure?” Deborah asked, wearily eyeing the scissors she had brought on a whim. “Your hair’s gonna be a little bit choppy on top.”

“I don’t care,” Sam lied.

“Can I cut it?” Jake asked from the couch.

“No,” Sam and Deborah both told him.

“Bummer,” Jake mumbled.

“Go for it before I change my mind,” Sam told Deborah, handing her the scissors.

“I can’t watch,” Danny groaned out, whipping his head away from Sam so fast a part of his chain link headpiece slapped Josh in the face, which he rubbed in pain.

Deborah was nervous to butcher the young bassist’s hair because she knew how big of a deal it was from all of the reference photos she had been given of the band prior to shooting. She knew he had told her to do it, but she was still terrified that she would get sacked if anyone found out what she did. As she pondered this, she stood frozen in place, her scissors dangling from her fingertips. Sam looked back to see that the hairdresser was apparently buffering over his request and let out a sigh, snatching the scissors from her. Before anyone could do anything to stop him, Sam positioned himself in front of the trailer’s mirror, located the last knot and, in two hurried snips, fully freed his head.

A couple of bang-length hairs fell in front of his eyes, which he blew out of the way in triumph, chucking the headpiece straight out the window with a call of glee.

“Finally,” he sighed. Deborah looked terrified as he returned to her and handed back the scissors.

“You cut that a lot shorter than I was going to,” she said.

“You weren’t gonna cut it, I could see how freaked out you were,” Sam corrected her.

“At least let me clean it up a bit in my trailer,” she asked.

Sam was more than willing to agree. Before Deborah led him away, Danny stood from his place on the couch and happily gave Sam’s fully exposed, bald-patch-free head a ruffle. Jake and Josh stood to join them and studied Sam closely, trying to gauge if he was mad or not. In all fairness, Sam wasn’t thrilled about his current hair, but it was infinitely better than the fabric situation, so he was going to run with the positive emotions.

“I got bangs,” was the best thing he could think to say to his stunned bandmates.

“You’re gonna have to learn how to style them,” Jake commented. He spoke from experience, after the mistake he had drunkenly made back in 2018 to give himself choppy side bangs that only ever got in the way.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Deborah said, leading Sam out from the trailer.

Deborah was good at her job, and she made the right call when she opted to slick Sam’s shortened hair back with a generous amount of gel. With it back, you couldn’t even tell how uneven things looked. Sam was more than happy with her work, and was beyond thrilled when he returned to his trailer and saw that his costume change consisted of a comfier looking white suit and stunning face mask made of diamonds. He knew for a fact that he was going to pull off his next outfit so well, he would be giving people gender envy for decades to come.

“Do you like it?” Josh asked from the doorway, watching Sam smile at the clothes.

“Are you kidding?” Sam turned to his brother. “It’s great.”

“Good,” Josh looked relieved. “I didn’t realize that stupid headpiece had sequins on the inside. I did want to take the piss out of you, but that went too far.”

“I gotta agree with you there,” Sam said.

“I thought this combination would make you look like you belong in Vogue.”

“Vogue will definitely want me after they see me in this.”

This made Josh flash his signature pearly whites and slap the doorframe of the trailer.

“Great, that’s great. Well, I’ll see you back out on set soon.”

“See ya,” Sam waved before returning to his new clothes.

“Oh, one more thing,” Josh said, turning back around. Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Apparently Danny’s chain link headpiece got caught in his hair too. Deborah’s helping him out now.”

Sam craned his neck and could swear he heard Danny calling out in pain in the trailer over. As he listened closer, he thought he heard Deborah telling him she was almost done, and that she would never work on a set again that involved pointless headpieces. As eager as Sam was to change, he made his way to Danny’s trailer and, sure enough, Deborah was hunched over the top of his head, thrusting the same comb into Danny’s curly locks. Danny had his teeth clenched and was white knuckling his chair but, when he saw Sam, he forced out a smile.

“I guess I couldn’t let you be the only one to experience this today,” he said before letting out another shout as Deborah freed some more hair in a triumphant swipe of the comb.

“How bad is it?” Sam asked, stepping closer to Danny.

“Bad,” Deborah grumbled.

“It’s not that bad,” Danny tried to protest before screaming out in pain as Deborah combed out another clump of hair from the chains.

“Nearly there,” she said under her breath.

“Can I just shake my head?” Danny asked. “It should fall off, right?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Deborah gave Danny a testing glance. Danny didn’t seem to hear her because he started to violently head bang, as if he was listening to a Staind song. Deborah at first called out in shock at Danny’s sudden actions, and Sam winced, but within a matter of seconds, the headpiece had flung off Danny’s head, straight out the window of his trailer. Outside a set PA screeched in pain.

“Not one hair cut,” Danny grinned. “Sorry, Sam.”

“It’s all good,” Sam shook his head with a smile.

“Oh god,” Deborah groaned behind them. They turned to face her and saw that she was holding another jeweled headpiece that, while it looked less complicated than the chain link one, still seemed like trouble. “You’re supposed to wear this next.”

“Aw man,” Danny frowned. “Why did they think that would be a good idea?”

“I’m putting so much hair spray in your hair, it’s gonna feel like uncooked spaghetti,” Deborah decided after weighing her options.

“Go for it,” Danny agreed, following her out to the hair and makeup trailer.

Sam watched him go, relieved that Danny hadn’t gone through the full extent of the pains he had endured over the course of the day. He hurried back to his trailer and threw on his suit, which was something he would absolutely wear during one of their shows. Carefully he set the mask on top of his head, making sure none of his gelled down hair got in the way, and centered himself in front of the mirror.

“Much, much better,” he smiled at his reflection.

“Lookin good!” Jake said through the window. Sam peered outside and saw that Jake was still in his tights and sash, but he was now wearing a large white hat.

“You’re not changing?” Sam asked out the window.

“I can’t get the tights off,” Jake called back.

“Seriously?”

“Nah, I’m kidding. They’re so comfy, I bartered with the costume department to let me keep them on. They said that it made their job a lot easier.”

“This is gonna be one weird music video.”

“I think our Age of Machine one was weirder, honestly.”

“Oh yeah, I’m still haunted by those shots of Josh riding the motorcycle.”

“Hey, no matter how stupid you look in this music video, nothing will beat Josh on the motorcycle.”

[soralinklokidottirofmirkwood]

The Hobbit x neko Heterochromic teen reader part7.

First day in Mirkwood.

In the Morning:

Anna walked into your room to wake you up for your lessons with Cathrine "Y/N wake up. You have your Lessons with Cathrine at nine." She said shaking you awake.

She dressed you in another of Legolas's old tunics with leggings and boots, put two braids in your hair with a black ribbon holding them in place and you put your choker, arm band and pendent on along with black lace up wrist bands and a silver circlet. After she finished she told you why you had to wear Legolas's hand me downs "The reason your wearing Prince Legolas's old tunics is because their the smallest we could find until the tailors finish making your cloths. After your lessons you have to get measured for your size." After brushing your teeth you walked to breakfast with elves greeting you.

At breakfast:

You are sitting besides Thranduil who is speaking with Legolas. "Adar why is she wearing my old tunics?"  Legolas asked his father glancing at you "Because they are the smallest clothes that can fit her until the tailors get her measurements." Thranduil said as both of you eat your Porridge "she looks to be a size four in a half." Tauriel said telling Thranduil when she was stitching your wounds yesterday "Let's see after her lessons." Thranduil said.

At your lessons. Your POV:

I was sitting in front of a pretty she elf with Brown hair and eyes she was very nice but also strict "she must be Cathrine? Da- er king Thranduil said I will be having academic lessons with her from Monday to Friday." I said to Anna, Elrolith, Estel and Miludir who seemed surprised to hear me almost call king Thranduil Dad "She almost called the king Dad! Ohh Eru we gotta tell him this." Meludir said earning nods from the other three elves "If you four are done disrupting? I would like to get on with Y/N's lessons." Cathrine said annoyed with the four elves.

Later after your lessons No one's POV:

You are standing in front of the tailor who is measuring you. You had to take the slightly oversized tunic off revealing your three visible tattoos making Thranduil's and the tailors eyes widened in shock (for Thranduil awe) "Have you've been tainted little one?" The tailor asked looking at your cherry blossom tree, Butterfly flock and crescent moon Tattoos "No my sister let me get them for my birthday." You told her "Do you have more?" Thranduil asked in awe "I have one more on my ankle." You said lifting up your leggings to show your tree tattoo making everyone amazed. Thranduil was in so much amazement "Amazing, I'll offer you another deal." When he said that you have a curious look "When ever I get a good report from Cathrine you can have a tattoo. But it's not an everyday or month thing. Its at the end of every marking period as an award. Am I understood." He asked "Understood." I said in sindarin making the tailor confused "She already knows Sindarin?" She asked the king "Her sister taught her since she was two." Thranduil told the tailor who nods in understanding.

The tailor was finally done measuring you and you were finally free. "When I was still with the company I usually trained with one of the dwarves or Gandalf." You remembered the times you've had with them the short few months you've been with them "I wonder how their doing by now." You think to yourself but you was interrupted by Legolas walking in looking frazzled "Y/N, Tauriel went after the dwarves to lake town. I need you to make sure my father doesn't find out that we're both gone alright." You were speechless your tail stood up you've never lied before you couldn't even hide an injury from the company back when you escaped a pack of wargs, and your sister never taught you how to lie because "It's not right to lie." But Legolas said he won't be long and that it's not really lying if you're covering for someone you nodded "alright but I've never done this before."you told the prince who nodded and said "I'll be back with her before Father knows, hopefully." He said rubbing your ears and kissing your head.

No one's POV:

"Ohh boy, what am I gonna do I've never done this before. What if Da- king Thranduil finds out? What will he do to me? " You told and asked Anna, Estel, Elrolith and Meludir who are all trying to calm you as moon dust Rained down "My lady, Remember the king doesn't want you using your powers in the palace." Elrolith said fearfully "Y/N you must stay calm." Anna said making you take a deep breath in and letting it out "I'm scared he'll kill me, He said there will be consequences for disobedience. How much trouble well I be if he found out?" As you say this Thranduil walked in "find out about what?" You froze in terror "That she loves you, She's already considering you a father." Elrolith said giving you a victory smirk.

You were going to kill him but decided to go with it "That's right Dad. I love you so much." You said hugging his waist as best as your smaller form can.

Thranduil didn't know what to say he was surprised, speechless but he was emotional deep down.

He awkwardly hugged you back "Alright I have a meeting in a bit. Y/N your free to do what ever you please for the rest of the day! but no training or using your powers in the palace." He said letting you go but your still hugging him "you can let go now." He said "Sorry." You said letting him go with a small blush. After he finally left the room Anna said "awww. I haven't seen that side of the king in years." She said "Aye he hasn't shown emotions since the queen died." Meludir said "It honestly felt good hugging him, Elrolith thanks for getting me out of that pickle. Though I still want to kill you."  You said making him, Anna, Estel and Meludir laugh "But seriously Dad's gonna find out Tauriel and Legolas aren't here sooner or later." You said in fear making them node in agreement.

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a witch like Wanda and coming to Middle earth.

(I changed the concept a little, and it turned out pretty much living with the hobbit ancestors and eventually meeting some elves. I hope you still enjoy,) 

Requested by Anonymous

Warnings; mentions of capture, forced experiment, death, distress, violence, plague, healing and adopting some creatures. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-You were an experiment. Modified from Wanda’s blood to make another like her, to create a soldier like her. 

-However, your magic was blue instead of red, and you were much weaker than Wanda. 

-You could barely lift a toy cube, and too much usage would exhaust you severely. The best you could do was raise a pen, but that didn’t satisfy your captors. 

-They were constantly unsatisfied with you, concluding you were a failure. So you didn't receive the best treatment. It has always been like that – ever since they kidnapped you and forced you to become a lab experiment. 

-Wanda and her brother Pietro were friendly to you, at least. They treated you like a third sibling and took care of you when experiments became too much for you to handle. 

-You hated your life. You were not confident, robust, or helpful in anything, while they could do all kinds of things with their powers. 

-You loved Wanda and Pietro, they were the only ones who made your life much more tolerable, but you felt more like a burden to them than a sibling. 

-You sometimes wished you would disappear and stop bothering them. 

-Things looked up when you got out and joined the avengers, but after Pietro’s death, everything fell apart for you. His death broke your spirit, and you couldn't handle the sorrow that encased you from within like a snake. 

-He always looked out for you, made your days better with kind words and jokes, and protected you from the harsh world. Now, he was no more. 

-Your sorrow caused your powers to overrun and open a portal. You did not mean to do it, and you did not know how you did it — one moment, you were mourning, and your emotions conflicted with each other, opening the portal. You remember it was during the full moon. 

-You got pulled into it, and it closed right behind you. You remember hearing Wanda’s horrified scream when she saw you get sucked into the deep blue vortex. 

-You got taken to a new world. It did not have great cities with advantaged technology, Hydra, or superhumans.  It was vast land with forests everywhere. 

-You are frightened like always when you get pushed into a situation alone, especially when it was your doing this time. It made you go into a hysterical panic attack. 

-You tried to open the portal again, but with no success. You cried, screamed, and tried to use your magic but to no avail. You only managed to exhaust yourself to the extent where your nose began to bleed. Still, you tried, wanting to return to the safety and comfort of your sister. 

-Your panic and overuse of your powers exhausted you physically and mentally, so you eventually fainted, falling onto the ground as everything turned dark. 

-You woke up later in a tiny cart, covered in blankets. You were frightened, especially when you saw people outside. They dressed strangely and held weapons and armor you had seen in medieval setting movies. 

-Your heart was beating like crazy, so when you saw a chance to take off, you took it. 

-You tried to be silent when sneaking out of the cart, but your clumsiness allowed you to trip, alerting the people of your escape. 

-You got up, ready to bolt into the woods. However, your confusion got the best of you when you saw the people who took you were short, like very short. They could barely reach your waist, and they had hairy feet. 

-You were so confused that you froze in your place, too afraid to move. 

-A short woman arrived. She spoke softly to you and tried to calm you down since you were shaking and staring at them with terror. She also calmed down her people, who were cautiously holding their weapons up, ready to attack if needed. 

-She explained she and her family found you alone in the woods, unconscious and bleeding, so they decided to help and take you along till you woke up.  

-You barely calmed down as you were still shaking with anxiety, and you couldn't bring yourself to speak when the woman tried to ask for your name. 

-They considered leaving you behind since you were awake and an outsider, but the woman didn’t like the idea and wanted to bring you alone –saying they couldn't leave you alone like this. You would be easy prey to the dangers. 

-She offered her hand to you, saying you can come along and she will look after you for the rest of their journey. You don’t have to be alone. You felt safe and didn’t want to be alone, so you took her hand, and she guided you along like a mother with a lost child. 

-The short people turned out pretty okay. You were still frightened by them because some didn’t trust you and gave you threatening looks. 

-You kept yourself curled up in a lonely corner most of the time with the woman and her family who tried to speak to you and get to know you better since you were traveling with them for now. 

-You were silent the entire time because you were a mess inside. You tried to process things, and as a result, you felt sick most of the time. You felt like vomiting at some point.

-You didn’t like to be alone among strangers. You always had Wanda and Pietro as your comfort and mental support whenever you talked to strangers. 

-You were grateful the woman seemed to understand your inner turmoil and often told everyone and her family to leave you be and not pressure you to talk. You will speak when you feel ready and comfortable enough to speak. 

-You got used to her, so you mostly stuck with her. She called herself Rosalia Baggins, and she was a hobbit. She and her people were searching for a home while trying to avoid dangers like humans, elves, and hideous creatures called orcs. 

-You first thought she was a dwarf, but a hobbit sounded much more pleasant and somewhat familiar – like you have read about them before in a book somewhere. 

-You felt guilty when you heard it was her who suggested taking you in while others protested the idea, so it was thanks to her you weren’t possibly dead on the forest floor somewhere. You decided to make yourself useful and try to help as much as possible. 

-You used your height to your advantage to help reach fruits and things from higher places, and you often pulled the carts when someone got too tired. 

-You still didn’t speak much, so the hobbits nicknamed you the silent Magpie Sally. You didn’t mind the nickname because you thought it was funny, and you were quiet most of the time, and it was enough to make you finally open up to Rosalia and tell her your real name. 

-She was proud of you, and her family was happy that you spoke for the first time, so you slowly started to talk more, and finally, you chatted more often about random things with them. 

-You slowly adapted to the hobbit’s lifestyle, and Rosalia’s people got used to you, considering you one of them. You even started walking barefoot but had to switch back to wearing shoes most of the time since your feet weren't durable as the feet of the hobbits.  

-They taught you many things, like how to craft with your hands, gather food, and even hunt, which consisted of fishing most of the time. You enjoyed cooking with Rosalia and even tried recipes from your world, which got the hobbits enamored with your cooking. They especially loved the pastries and little desserts you made. 

-You also got into knitting. It was stress relieving, and you genuinely loved it, making little hats, scarves, and mittens for the hobbits and their children. You loved how the children would laugh and show their parents, and you soon started getting requests for more handmade clothes. 

-It made you feel helpful for the first time in your life. 

-You didn’t tell them about your powers, feeling anxious about how they would react, not that you ever needed to show them. You were happy keeping them tucked away in the deepest darkest corner of your existence.

-You did notice your powers had changed over time. 

-You found two abandoned wolf pups. They were dark-colored and angry, threatening to bite you at any moment. There was something sinister about them. They looked infected with a twisted disease, which caused them to be in pain and deform. 

-The hobbits wanted to leave them behind because there was no reason to deal with evil wolves, but you hesitated. Something within you didn’t want to leave these poor pups to suffer alone, so you tried to help them. 

-The hobbits thought you were crazy when you gave the pups some food and tried to gain their trust. You got bitten once and twice, but you did not give up. 

-Over time, the wolf pups became accustomed to your smell and slowly showed trust toward you. When they allowed you to touch them – love and adoration filled your heart. 

-You were gentle when you stroked their fur, and suddenly – your powers activated right before your eyes and the hobbits. 

-The blue light of your magic healed the deformities and changed the color of their fur into snowy white. Their gray eyes filled themselves with color and life, and soon they were healthy again. 

-They jumped on your lap, wagging their tails and showing you trust and love. They even allowed the hobbits to pet them. 

-You fell in love with them and decided to name them Skoll and Hati, after the wolf brothers you once heard from Thor. 

-Rosalia allowed you to adopt them if you took good care of them, and you nodded like an excited child. You fed them, taught them some tricks, and they soon grew friendly with all the other hobbits. 

-You were surprised and realized your powers cured them, so you began experimenting with your newfound ability. 

-You looked and tested your ability on things with the same condition as the wolves, and you managed to be successful without exhausting yourself. 

-You finally told the hobbits about your powers, and they didn’t seem to mind since your ability cured the wolves from the darkness. It was doing more good than harm, so they had no reason to fear you. 

-You managed to cure plants that seemed to be poisoned by the same essence that had once controlled your wolves and make them edible again. You could even heal the trees and other animals. 

-You found out your powers would be stronger during the night when the moon was out and less effective during the day. You never realized your powers resonated with the moon, so maybe that is the reason why your abilities never grew during your captivity. 

-One night, you and the hobbits arrived at a remarkably polluted lake. A foul smell lingered in the air, and the surface was disgustingly gray.

-Many of the fish were dead or deformed beyond recognition. It was like you were staring into a lake of monsters.  

-According to hobbits, the water was corrupted by darkness and thus undrinkable. It was a shame because they needed water after the long hike for the day, but it looked like they needed to make an extended trip to another water source. 

-You decided to put your healing ability to the test and pushed your hands into the polluted water. 

-It took you some strength since you were trying to purify a whole lake, but you succeeded as the water began to glow with moonlight, changing the water back into its natural blue color, and the fish returned to normal, swimming back into the depths. 

-Your nose began to bleed, but the water was crystal clear, which made you happy that your hobbit friends could drink from it again. 

-You went to celebrate with your friends, but you had not realized someone was watching you from afar. An elf had witnessed your magical purification of the lake no one had been able to cure from its plague before. 

-The elf was shocked by what had happened and wished to talk to you. The elf tried following you and your hobbit companions but soon lost sight of you to the dark of the night and the forest. 

-The elf had to return to their kin, but it turned out: the mysterious light that emanated from the lake had purified the darkness away from the faraway rivers as well –which many had the chance to witness as they were there when it happened. 

-From then on, the mysterious figure the elf saw at the lake became known as the moon witch.

-On the same night, you had a terrifying encounter with the orcs. 

-You had wandered away from the camp with your hobbit friends and got lost. You tried to find your way back when a hideous creature appeared from the shadows and almost decapitated you. 

-You had no fighting experience, and when more of them came. The best thing you managed to do was use your magic to uproot a tree and let it fall on them. 

-It slowed them down, so you and your hobbit friends got time to escape. 

-You ran around, trying to find your camp while breaking the trees to slow the orcs from pursuing you. Your heart was beating against your ears, and you could slowly feel yourself getting exhausted over the use of your magic. 

-You eventually got to a dead end. It was a cliff with a far drop to the ground. You and your friends got trapped between the fall and the orcs, who were dangerously approaching you. 

-It was a terrifying experience, and you had made a mistake stepping over the edge, but something prevented you from falling.  

-You noticed a light under your feet, keeping you from falling. You tested it, and it felt like solid ground under you. You tried it again and saw it was keeping you up. 

-You realized it was the moonlight that kept you from falling.

-You decided to make a risky decision, grabbing your hobbit friends and jumping off the cliff. 

- Your feet stepped in the moonlight, which gave you a platform to jump and run. Your run through the sky lost the orcs, who could not follow you over the edge to the forest below.

-You safely landed on the ground and finally found your way back to the camp. Rosalia was worried sick for you and scolded you for getting into danger. 

-You told her what happened, and she lectured about the orcs. They were troublesome and dangerous, so hopefully, the night was a good lesson on why people avoided them. 

-You tried to promise her to be more careful in the future. Still, you couldn't stop thinking about the encounter.

-Your powers had significantly grown because you had no idea you could fly and walk in the moonlight. It excited you yet made you feel sad when you thought about Wanda. Her presence close to you and within reach would have made you – excited to tell her about your progress. 

-She would have been proud and happy for you. She would have been smug about it since she always believed your powers would grow one day. 

-You had yet to discover how to open a portal back to your world, but you doubted you would ever reach that level. 

-After some time, traveling through Middle Earth, you and the hobbits settled down in a place called the Shire and made your home there. 

-You got your own home under the hill, and Rosalia and her family were happy to help you decorate it and design it suitable for you and your creatures. They even helped you build a stable for your horse companion. Her name was Freya

-She was a beautiful white mare you saved from a similar situation like Skoll and Hati. She used to be different colored, but your magic turned her fur white when you healed her. 

-You’re not sure why your powers turned your creatures white, but as long as they were healthy and happy. You were happy. You wouldn't choose any other way. 

-You did encounter a dragon once, and he didn’t turn white when you healed him from the corruption. He wasn’t fond of staying around, so he flew off after thanking you.

-It was exciting to meet a talking dragon, but disappointing you didn’t get to learn his name, so you called him Fafnir after the dwarven dragon. 

-One night, you were spending time with your creatures, enjoying the calm silence of nature and the moonlight that embraced you with power. Your beloved wolves played while Freya lay beside you. 

-You played a little with your magic — letting the blue energy flow through your fingers like a dark blue river with twinkling stars. You never thought you would grow to love your power and learn to accept yourself. 

-You sometimes thought coming to Middle Earth might not have been so terrible. You missed Wanda and hoped she was doing okay, but you felt more at home in Middle Earth than in your world, so you didn’t consider returning anymore. 

-You didn’t want to leave behind Rosalia and the hobbits. They were your family now, so you wished by the stars that Wanda’s life was better and well in your old world. 

-Skoll and Hati were suddenly alerted. They growled with intensity as they stared at something in the forest. You stood up with fright when you saw an elf. 

-Skoll and Hati protectively stood in front of you, growling at the elf, ready to fight as they have grown in size from pups into mighty wolves. 

-The elf tried to appear harmless, coming out with his white steed. His voice was soft, and his golden locks glimmered with the moonlight. 

-He was ethereal to your eyes as you have never encountered an elf before, but you were still hesitant to talk to him when he spoke to you. 

-You could feel your social skills lacking. You told the elf your name before making an excuse and mounting Freya. You apologized for the short encounter and told Skoll and Hati to follow as you let Freya gallop away from the meadow. 

-You heard him call out to you, calling you the moon witch before his voice left your earshot. 

-You couldn't stop thinking about it after you returned home. You might have been hasty as the beautiful stranger didn’t seem to mean any harm, but you had past experience with terrible people, so it might have been best to leave it there. 

-You were a bit confused why he called you a moon witch. It was a strange word, but you didn’t mind since your powers resonated with the moon. It wasn’t the worst nickname since you got called Glowyfingers and Moonfoot since the incident with the orcs. Hobbits and their creative names.

[ithilwen-lionheart]

Home is where the heart is: Home is where you are - Legolas x Modern Day!Reader

Alternatively:

Ignorance is your new bestfriend

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[ Part 1. Work Text: ]

It had already been a few months since Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm appeared right at her doorstep.

It was on one of those quiet nights she spent home in the company of an ongoing marathon of The Lord of The Rings after yet another re-run of The Hobbit that a sudden lightning storm had struck their area and disrupted all nearby electrical connections. The rain poured hard and fast outside, practically pounding on the roof that she nearly missed the timid knocking on her front door. It was only when the rapping grew in both persistence and urgency that it was eventually made known to her.

She remembered lethargically pulling herself up to her feet from where she laid comfortably curled on her gargantuan bean bag, cautiously padding through the carpeted floors of her room down the stairs dressed in worn pajamas that heavily clashed with her mismatched socks- clothes she previously swore she would not be caught dead wearing.

It just so happened then that like some demented punchline, opening her front door had brought her face-to-face with a drenched and achingly familiar elf she spent a good few minutes gawking at. Not too long ago he was just on the other side of her screen, the entirety of him mere pixels and lights and an abused replay button and now he stood before her with a knuckle raised halfway into yet another knock.

She didn't know what was considered a normal response in the face of such abnormality. It wasn't something that happened often enough to be gleaned from everyday conversation nor had it been mainstream or downright bananas enough to make it into any form of media she had come across previously and so she was left with very little choice but to move on to the next phase of the every day flesh bag's tried-and-tested response to shock.

Confusion. Eyes previously wide as saucers narrowed into a squint, mouth gaping animatedly alongside scrunching brows.

The equally confused blond decided to break the silence by coughing uncomfortably into the fist he made out of the hand he previously had poised mid-air.

"So sorry about that, " the girl scratched the back of her head with an embarrassed laugh. A part of her nagged that it was a stupid decision she was making, one that she might regret later on but then the other part of her had been equally persistent as it argued that the consequences for this is a later problem.

She had not once been glad of her track-record for stupid decisions before now, "It's raining hard outside and you're drenched. Come, let's get you dry." she opened the door wider to let him in, her other hand making vague gestures in invitation.

Legolas' elegant brows furrowed at the much unexpected proposition and remained rooted to where he stood on the front porch, "I appreciate your offer, my lady, truly." he began tentatively, genuine gratitude budding in the light of his eyes and the soft smile on his face, "However, is it not unwise to invite a stranger inside your home at such an hour, especially when, " he spared a quick glance at the interior of the house before turning back to meet her eyes, "-you are presumably alone."

The young woman blinked. For someone who is in blatant need of help, he sure does have a way to make someone second guess it, "Okay, but-" she dragged the words as if every sound brought her closer to a final decision on just exactly what to do with the elf on her front porch, "-you did knock on my door in the middle of a storm so I assumed you needed help. Don't you? Need help, I mean." A fair blonde head nodded at this, "I see..." she trailed off and narrowly fails resisting the urge to roll her eyes, if you do need help then maybe it's not the best idea to advise people against it she sighed internally, outwardly however, she clapped her hands once and beamed, "Right! Then maybe we could begin with introductions? I'm (Y/N)! Are you by any chance Orlando Bloom?" She tilted her head to the side, leaning ever so slightly in careful scrutiny of the stranger outside her door, "Or a devoted cosplayer?" if he were then she had to hand it to him, he is good. He had everything down to the tee: the elaborate elvish garbs, the makeup, the intricate points of his elvish ears, the weighted weapons -she had to ask him where he commissioned those, no doubt it costed a fortune but it looked to be worth every penny- even his hair and his eyes looked so damn natural.

"Pardon?" even his mystification seemed so real, so canonical, (Y/N) bites down on a squeal, perhaps he also took acting classes -maybe improv? "I do not know the beings that belonged to the names you spoke of, my lady." there was that dimple between his brows and it made the sides of his eyes wrinkle -adorably so, (Y/N) surmised- there was a pause between them before he seemingly gathered his bearings and placed a hand to his chest before extending it towards the her, "I am Legolas of the Greenwoods, son of Thranduil, sentry to The Fellowship..." He trailed off, disquieted by what (Y/N) assumed was the knowing and almost teasing smirk she had felt lifting the side of her lips. He took in his surroundings once before seemingly just remembering to bow as an after-thought.

"I don't know if you left out the fact that you're a prince on purpose or if it was never in your character to introduce your father as king." (Y/N) raised a curious brow before pulling back to lean against her doorframe, "Perhaps those are points you might want to consider next you introduce yourself. The movies do not make it any easier now does it? All of your introductions were made by someone else." she hums in thought.

Consternation sparked in those light blue irises. All 6ft of lithe sinew strung into unadulterated wariness, his defensive posture had been notably akin to a bow being drawn, "How do you know that my father is king?" there was an edge to his otherwise downy voice that made (Y/N) pause.

"I," (E/C) blinked in dawning albeit baffling realization. It was the bona fide Prince of Mirkwood at her doorstep -or was it Greenwood? As he was before her, she found herself with very little tell to discern the current state of his homeland. Still, it remained that there was no mistaking the genuine astonishment that colored over the usual serenity on his face. There had been an authenticity to him and his body language that not even some loony con-man worth his salt was capable of wearing, never mind the expanding discomfiture swirling in the depths of eyes that practically stabbed her heart into succumbing to empathy.

She had always been easy game, almost to a fault- and so there was no surprise to be found on her and hers when she grabbed the elf prince's hand and pulled him into her home- muddy boots, soaked clothes and all, "In all honesty, a lot of what I have to say might just serve to complicate matters even more for you." she began, lips stretched into a grimace as she locked the door behind her, "If there is anything important you'd have to know though, it's that this," She spread her arms wide at her sides, "-is Earth. Just Earth. Not Middle Earth."

(Y/N) knew she had been an utter arse for dismissing the look of abject horror on the elf's face in favor of further putting him under her telescope and tiptoeing to tug on the points of his ears, "You are far far away from home, dear prince." she uttered absent-mindedly, thoroughly transfixed with the elf's mystical appendages. Real. These are real elf ears.

Legolas had let out a sound of pain and attempted to pull away from her prodding hands, "I must implore that you refrain from touching, my lady. An elf's ear tend to feel much profoundly in comparison to the average man's." He gently grabbed her hands and lowered it with a lingering grimace on his handsome face.

The (H/C)-nette fought back a mad blush as she abruptly took her hands back in embarrassment, "Right! I'm sorry about that. I'll just go and get you some fresh clothes. Maybe run you a bath." She offered also by means of setting a more appropriate course of action for her to take- at the very least until she was once again derailed upon taking notice of the armor that laid above the dampened tunic he wore, and then the sheer number of weaponry he had on his very being.

A pair of knives were sheathed on the leather resting against his back, competing in space along with a quiver of arrows; a sword was strapped around his waist and his bow was held over one shoulder. Anyone who would see that collection of sharp objects on a single person -never mind one dressed so fantastically- would either run for the hills, dial 911 or poke fun at him.

(Y/N) did not like the idea of the last one in the slightest.

Not to mention that his choice of weapons are considered in this day and age from a bygone era. Should anyone nurse the savage penchant for blood, they are likely to use a gun or an explosive. Swift and efficient without requiring the trouble of retrieving anything in the aftermath.

But it wasn't something she would ever tell Legolas, not when he was well enough with his bow and his arrows- especially not when he held the former so lovingly as he does now and in battle.

What she did actually say as ushered the elf to follow her upstairs to her bedroom had been, "Your weapons would obviously have to stay in my room. No need to carry them around here at all times."

For a graceful sentinel who could very easily snap her neck if he wished, Legolas looked openly hesitant to follow her lead. She hadn't been able to place it then if it was because she told him to discard his weapons or because she would be taking him to her room. Although looking into her obsession with the elvish race, (Y/N) surmised that it might have had something to do with their more traditional culture.

It hadn't meant as much to her, but perhaps to him it might as well have been an invitation to her bed. The thought sent blood rushing to her cheeks- she wouldn't mind following through that misinterpretation one bit, however she was almost certain Legolas wouldn't share the same sentiment.

Upon their arrival to her room, it had not once escaped her how the prince marveled at the space. It took her half a mind to guide him inside the bathroom and not humor him with a short spiel for each one of the bits and bobs that littered her sanctuary if only to prevent any more droplets of water from staining the carpet- they were a menace to maintain, never mind to dry and clean when wet.

Leading him further into the adjoining bathroom, she had introduced him to the tub, the shower, the toilet, and what bathing paraphernalia she had at her disposal.

"Would you like a simple shower or a long soak?" She had asked then as she gathered an array of soaps and shampoos, shower gels and bath salts and placed them on a wooden basket on the edge of the tub. Legolas turned to her from where she knelt in front of him, decidedly abandoning his attempt at fiddling with the foreign contraption that stuck out from the walls- faucets.

"I... do not understand." He said in all honesty, bending down slightly to inspect the variety of items inside the basket, his curiosity was piqued by the assortment of bottled colors and scents, "What are these?" He held a cherry-blossom shower gel on one hand and a jasmine body wash on the other.

(Y/N) vividly remembers the felicity that bubbled in her chest as she chuckled and pointed at each of the bottles, "That, my prince, is a shower gel, the other one is body wash." She then proceeded to turn on the faucets. It was no easy task to opt for doting on him over gushing at how cute his ignorance had been, thankfully she managed, "I personally think I should run you a bath after being drenched in the downpour outside." Warm water gushed out of the spout and began filling the tub.

The fascination that bloomed on the elf's face then had made it to her list of favored memories. "This is a faucet." (Y/N) began, at the blond archer's persisting perplexity, she expounded, "It produces the water that you would be needing to fill this baby over here," she ran a hand over the smooth surface of her large tub. Being a bath junkie, she had worked no small amount of minor jobs to afford it and thus the tub very easily became one of her most prized possessions- odd as it might be in comparison to what would usually pass as a treasured belonging for most people around her age.

To share such a gem of hers to a stranger- the affronted face that Legolas made at the mention of 'baby' was enough to flush out any and all undue possessiveness she had before then out of her system. (Y/N) found that if the spoils of her retail therapy was all it took to coax such delightful expressions out of such a darling face, everything that is hers is henceforth his.

Unsurprisingly, Legolas did take the word literally and was a trigger happy finger away from bursting into hysterics at the idea that a baby was in fact buried under or molded into the thing and why. (Y/N) need only think about the noise complaint the prince's unceremonious panicking would send their way and she was quickly interjecting before the elf could even so much as breathe his readying breath, "This is a bath tub. Tubs are usually made of steel, marble or ceramic."

Not babies.

Not once had she dreamed of a day wherein she would be breaking down her facilities in such a way, "-no actual babies were ever harmed in the creation of this thing. No little human flesh, bones or organs anywhere near, beneath, or within it. No reason to fret." She spared the elf a mild levelled look before taking the liberty of arranging his introductory bath combination.

"And what of-" he began and she somehow knew before he could even continue.

"-no elflings, dwarflings, shirelings or orclings too." (Y/N)'s movements halted, a question of immense importance popping in her head as she spun around to face the prince with an urgency that indicated so, "Is that what baby orcs are called? Do orcs even have babies?"

Legolas matched the furrow of her brows, equally as puzzled, "I," he dragged the pronoun and fussed with his leather arm braces in under a second before meeting her gaze once more, a rueful smile on his face, "I may have to disappoint you, my lady, but I myself do not know the answer to your inquiry. If I may be so blunt?" he tipped his head as if awaiting her consent before plowing on.

The girl waved both hands in an agitated gesture for the prince to continue, "I'd prefer more if you spoke freely actually. I would literally beg you to please do."

He was almost bashful when he admitted, "I have not once spared a thought on how orcs...reproduce." then his jaw sets and his hands clench into fists on his sides, "All those that I met are so driven by an insatiable thirst for blood- to kill and to pillage as if those were all they knew. I cannot fathom how-" his blond head shook as he trailed off, the crease on his forehead deepening, mouth turning downwards into a frown-

Disgust.

(Y/N) knew at least the answer to that one. She saw how orcs were made -she only ever wondered about what they were called- to think that Legolas' immediate thought went straight to orc sex,

She was surprised she hadn't choked on the full blown guffaw she had swallowed then. Still, she couldn't have reigned the rascal in her even if she tried, "I couldn't blame you, really. That isn't exactly a thought I'd want to entertain for as long as I would need my appetite." She feigned gagging noises if only to sweeten her ruse.

It wasn't so much as to coax amusement out of the Elven Prince as it had been for her own entertainment but the chuckle that slipped past the elf's lips-

It was a sound she associated with a pond, not as deep as the ocean yet still bearing a weight of its own. Clear enough that she's able to see her feet, kind enough that it would allow her to wade through without the risk of an undertow, she fathomed it would grow to be her favorite sound.

The grin she sported then had almost been as easy as breath. Maybe I should make him laugh more often.

Unbeknownst to her then, Legolas had watched her closely with curiosity and a spark of something else in his blue eyes. For as much as the Elven Prince had found delight in the scent that had drifted about them, to him it could not hold a candle to his host's twinkling face.

"Lavender." He breathed in. It had been a welcome change from the damp earthy smell that permeated his senses since the lesser necromancer The Fellowship encountered had transported him to this foreign world. He had not known for how long he walked until he had come across (Y/N)'s home, what he did know was that through it all it rained- it rained and poured and it never stopped.

The tension in the prince's shoulders eased at the aroma of her favorite concoction and it was something (Y/N) had taken joy in. She had always harbored an adoration for lavender, however, she found that the store-bought variety lacked a certain je ne sais quoi that she desired and hence, came her affinity for creating her own bathroom fragrances.

"I harm a guess that you like it?" She offered timidly, attention fixed on choosing what she had in her arsenal that is most reminiscent of the Elven Prince's Woodland home for his shampoo and soap. Coming across what she had been seeking, she then placed them on the foot of the tub.

Legolas smiled, "Of course, I do. Very much." He knelt down to her level and took one of her hands in his, "Thank you so much for your generosity, my lady. This is more than any traveler could ever dare wish." He lifted her notably smaller appendage to his lips and laid a chaste kiss upon her knuckle.

It was impossible for (Y/N) to damper the blush that had risen to her cheeks then even if she tried, "No problem!" the flustered laughter that slipped past her lips had been anything but pleasant, "Always glad to lend a helping hand!" Her free hand reached backwards to scratch her neck as if a bow to wrap up her graceless display. (E/C) hues darting everywhere else but in front of her.

The answering grin of the elf had only widened at his hostess' flustering, it was an act that he saw as absolutely charming. It had just been too overwhelming that Legolas found himself voicing his thoughts aloud before he could so much as ponder the propriety of it.

"You are quite endearing, my lady." He breathed, a little bit lost- as if just rousing from a trance. He then took in the peculiarly dressed human before him, appreciating every quirk that he had never seen in his own world before: the clashing patterns, the loose clothes, the odd hair-

A ticklish laugh bubbled in (Y/N) chest and eased past her lips, "Thanks. I guess?" her head slightly shaking in mild surprise, "I wouldn't have taken you for one smooth talker, dear prince." Her ensuing chuckles were incredulous, twinkling (E/C) eyes back on ageless light blues.

The sheer amount of mirth on her very being was something Legolas found himself turning up to -as if budding wildflowers to the sun, the girl somehow securing a glen within him for every breathless cadence.

Still, it did not escape his attention that he had been called a rather curious word that was not known to him, "A 'smooth talker', my lady? I am afraid the notion is unfamiliar to me." He gently lowers her hand between them, yet to let go.

(Y/N) found the prince's touch as another addition to her growing list of favorite things and so she had never commented or pulled away.

In fact, then she had wished the moment could've stretched on forever. Alas, the familiar tune of her favorite song played from inside her room and she cursed whoever it was that just felt so inclined to rob her of simple pleasures, "That's..." her eyes fluttered to their joined hands, then his face, the door, and back again, "My phone. If you would please excuse me."

It was only once she was halfway through the door that (Y/N) remembered she should've taken the rest of the Legolas' things with her so he could set himself up for a bath.

Turning on her heel, she had taken a few steps back towards the elf who was then just beginning to unclasp his armor from himself, "I just remembered," she began tentatively, hating how her nerves had derailed her voice, "You wear armor- can I help you with that?" (Y/N)'s confidence on her offer grew as she saw Legolas struggling with the back straps of the sheath of his knives.

"If it would not be too much trouble for you, my lady." He answered truthfully, a tiny self-conscious upwards quirk at the side of thin lips. At her answering hands that overtook the disarming of his knives, he proceeded with unbuckling his quiver instead.

(Y/N) busied herself with getting the troublesome contraption off the tall elf's shoulders. A task that proved to be quite demanding when she barely even reached his shoulders in the first place. Remembering the small stool she kept inside the cabinet underneath her sink, she quickly got on her knees to retrieve it.

She thanked whatever gods that watched over her for the prince's pre-occupation as she returned to stand on the tiny chair to resume her earlier task.

Once they managed to get everything that was either sharp, constricting or both off the prince, all that was left was his green and brown tunic that had practically been one with his skin by that point.

(Y/N) tried her damnedest not to dwell on the thought for far too long as she gathered his hefty belongings in both of her comparatively scraggly arms.

Upon seeing her struggling form, Legolas had thrown her a worried look, "Are you alright, my lady?" He was already midway into helping her when (Y/N) abruptly shook her head and walked backwards with a smile.

"I'm fine! You enjoy your bath in there while I go and find something for you to wear." She declared, leaving no room for arguments as she went on her way and closed the door to the bathroom behind her.

The door barely managed to click shut before she was slumped against the cool wooden surface.

No amount of bingeing the entire Middle Earth movies could have ever prepared her for this, she surmised. Her salvation wouldn't be on the copious amounts of fanarts or fiction she consumed or the hours she spent camping on pinterest or ao3- not when the actual Sindarin prince was just behind her using her bath.

Of course her mind had to conspire against her too by conjuring charged imageries of what transpired beyond her door. It was so sacrilegious that (Y/N) thought the best course of action to take had been to attempt at physically shaking the thoughts off her head. At the intensity of what she had felt then, she was only glad she hadn't joggled her brain into an aneurysm.

After a full three minutes of breathing exercises and molding the shadows that were cast inside her room into magical creatures within her head (she had a chimera, a pegasus, a mermaid, a sphynx and an actual dragon by the time she was finished- all as elaborate as the next), she had enough wits about her to carefully arrange Legolas' belongings on the floor just beside her bed and find him the clothes she promised.

What she came up with was an oversized cream jumper with a huge green tea leaf smack in the middle (a giveaway from a bubble tea shop) and a pair of grey drawstring track pants. (Y/N) silently thanked the gods for making the boyfriend style a trend-

Before blushing once more at the implication that it held. She cursed tumblr imagines for rotting her brain as much as it had done.

Her increasingly aggressive face-rubbing had been startled to a halt by a few sloshes from inside the bathroom. At the very least someone seems to be enjoying our setup, (Y/N) chuckled despite of herself before jerking to a start at the fluffy towel that stared menacingly back at her from where it was draped over the wooden chair right in front of her study desk.

The towel...right. Of fucking course, she groaned against the palm of her hands, feet stomping on the ground and positively a buzzer away from combustion. (Y/N) pondered how in the ever living hells was she supposed to hand the thing over to Legolas now that he-

If her cheeks would do even more heating up, simultaneous combustion would be the least of her worries- facial deformation would make the top of her list.

Pacing back and forth before her bathroom door in thought, she made it into seven cycles when she heard a slight commotion from the other side: some splashes of water and a slew of elvish phrases that sounded so panicky and cross she was almost inclined to think that Legolas -for some unknown reason- had gotten to cussing the heavens.

A fizzing amusement had risen in her throat before a singular phrase immediately put a stopper to it, "-such impudent contraption! Why would you not cease?! Your service is no longer needed. Can you not see the mess you are making of the generous young lady's home?!"

(E/C) eyes widened at this, a mess of my- (Y/N) found herself with her cheek pressed against the door, "Legolas?" She had called out, concern raising her voice by a pitch, "Legolas! Are you alright?!" She pounded on the door a couple of times before realizing that she had left it open thinking that the prince might not be aware of how their door knobs work.

(Y/N) at the very least had to give it to her subconscious for having half a mind to tell that accidentally locking the elf inside the bathroom was more trouble than it is worth even if it did forget about the towel.

Having received no reply from the other side other than more splashes of water, she ultimately decided to barge in.

"Legolas, I'm coming in. Cover yourself up." She notified, already steeling herself as she turned the knob and entered.

What had greeted her then was an overflowing tub; bottles of shampoo, bars of soap, and the rest of the products on her wooden basket floating everywhere the water had touched before flooding the floors, and a heavily flustered elf prince who much unnecessarily stood and at an attempt to cover himself had clutched against him the waterproof curtain that hung inside the frosted glass walls of the shower area just beside the bath, fine strands of platinum in such disarray.

It clung awkwardly all around his face, neck and chest yet it never managed to overwhelm the fact that even in such a disorderly state, the prince was still as attractive as ever- she could almost forget the rip on four of the shower curtain's grommets.

(Y/N) had never felt more relieved to have purchased those opaque teal curtains for her bathroom even if they had caused a ridiculous amount of money- she would have to have that fixed but that's a problem for later after she had made sure none of her facilities had permanently scarred the elf and he was well, dried, and escorted safely out of the bath.

With her head bent down, she had hesitantly made her way towards the tub to turn the faucet off before proceeding to collect the things that littered the floor. Throughout the entire process, she very nearly headbutted the tub twice: first when Legolas backed up to allow her breathing space, the second one being when in doing so he had only ironically shifted the curtain dangerously away from what it was meant to have been shrouding.

"I apologize for blighting your residence..." Came the crestfallen voice of the prince from behind her, "It would not be inapt if you wish for me to leave-"

"Get back into the tub, Legolas," (Y/N) instructed then, a quiet chuckle in her tone, "It's alright." She had hoped her voice was reassuring enough with her back to the prince, "I'll just go get your change of clothes and a towel, I'll be back shortly. Don't touch anything and just get in the tub, okay?" She half turned her head if only to indicate that she needed the elf's reassurance on this.

"Of course." One blond head nodded dutifully. Legolas had been glad that the young lady had her back to him as he could feel the entirety of him warmed by unadulterated embarrassment. Until then he assumed that elves are not so easily overtaken by their emotions- his father, The Elvenking, had been a paramount example of this restraint after all, perhaps with a frigidity that was exclusive to him, yes, even still-

Legolas could not shrug off his growing unease. He normally had considerable command over his system, losing it like this felt as if he had somehow grown a second head- it was odd in a way that he did not particularly find agreeable. Then he remembered that this was not his world and fathomed that it was perhaps being in a completely different place that had sent his inhibition in such disarray.

"That could be the only sound explanation for this," Legolas muttered to himself as he slipped back into the warm water of the 'tub'. He had flinched as more of the water inside the container poured out under his weight, so clear-cut with his discomfiture that (Y/N) had not been able to miss it.

It had felt like second nature for her to reassure him, "Don't worry," her voice was a balmy hush, "I'll just clean it up later." Her attention had been fixed on a few more things on top of what to him was another exotic apparatus.

Noticing that the elf had gone completely silent, (Y/N) turned to see Legolas staring bemusedly at the toilet.

"That's a toilet." she started, a bit unsure if this would warrant an explanation and wishing to the gods that it wouldn't.

Legolas merely parrots her, equally uncertain.

"It's where you store your -uh- daily deposit."

"Daily deposit?"

"The parts of your meal that your guts deemed useless."

"Ah." it was a little sound of acknowledgment but to (Y/N) it had meant the whole world, it was a break from expounding a little too much on topics she would usually not have bothered to talk about, "So that is what you call it."

The imp resurfaces within her once more, "Not really," the snicker she felt splitting her lips had been unbidden.

A single blond brow raises in both answer and askance, "Then what do you call it?"

"Shit."

Thin lips parted in shock and (Y/N) had been genuinely afraid to have honestly offended the elven prince- at the very least until he started shaking his head, a matching smirk on his face, "Of all similarities our worlds could share." he chuckled in incredulity, leaning to rest with his back against the tub.

"Disappointed that it didn't get to be dung?" she sloshed through the flooded floors to elbow him on the arm that was draped over the rim.

Baby blue eyes that had been previously closed peered at her in response, bright with childish amusement, "Disappointed that it has to be so crass a word that not all would be keen on entertaining for as long as they would require their appetite." he had quoted her then, every bit the self-satisfied smart aleck.

(Y/N) was too taken by the thrill of sharing in on the prince's snarky humor that she allowed herself that full blown guffaw she had been smothering for so long, "Aha! You're learning!" she slapped a knee before laying her own back against the outer side of the basin-

-proximity, drenched clothes and the lack thereof be damned, (Y/N) was glad she had been where she was to witness the light catch in Legolas' eyes, the roguish grin, and that arm that tugged on toned sinews as it rose to run nimble fingers through his flaxen strands- his other arm remaining draped a breath away from where she had her head tilted back to face him.

Every bit the sculpted Adonis bathed in artificial light and lavender scented dew. Every bit fair and flushed and so so alive.

"Fancy what you see?" his grin was of a cocky Cheshire cat-

One whose head (Y/N) was all too pleased to dunk face first into the water.

Needless to say, the Elven Prince was able to proceed with taking his bath that night without anymore complications- at the very least after the unruly lady of the house had successfully stumbled out of her slippery bathroom floors laughing maniacally.

-----

[ FIN. End of Chapter 1, Part 1 ]

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

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

Requested by anon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was the night you snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very quickly, cliques formed.

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

However, this was not to last forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

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

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n…” you revealed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, never again…sister.”

[heliads]

hi hello yes could i have more platonic aragorn father figure ty very much :) hope your day is going well!

i adore platonic aragorn father figure thank you for this req

masterlist

You pause, your hand on the doorknob. This could go very bad, very fast, so it is imperative that you get this right. There are lives at stake, after all. There is no room for error, not now. Not today.

You allow yourself one slow breath in and out, then strike, quick as a rattling viper. The door flies open under your touch, you whirl inside, and are confronted with four surprised hobbits and one man dressed in a dark cloak. If anything were to set you off guard, just slightly, it’s that the hobbits look to this man for aid, even though you’re fairly certain that they were just kidnapped.

The door closes behind you and the dark-cloaked man leaps into action. A sword is in his hands before you even heard him unsheathe it. He points the tip at your throat, but you rush forward and slam the pommel of your weapon into his forearm, distracting him without making a noise that would alert the other residents of this inn, such as the clanging of steel against steel.

The man growls a question at you, half belligerent and half bewildered. “Who are you? Are you in league with those who wish these hobbits harm?”

You can feel your face twist with confusion. “I’m here to save them from you.”

The man draws back, although he keeps his sword extended. “Why would you save them from me? I wish only to help them.”

You arch a brow. “I saw you take them from the Prancing Pony. I don’t know what you said to make them go with you, but they all looked afraid. You could have been issuing threats for all I know.”

The man shakes his head slowly. “I knew of a plot on their lives and meant to wrest them from its darkened grasp, no more.”

He sounds genuine, which only makes your suspicion grow. Men can do nothing better than lie; many believe that was the first art they learned in the cradle and all others are mere trivialities.

“Pippin left a tankard half full of mead at his place in the inn. He would never give up a good drink willingly.”

Pippin, somewhere to your left, manages to break his shocked silence long enough to laugh quietly. “That is true.”

The man shoots him an exasperated look, then turns back to you. “I meant to save them, and I did. Why were you sent here, and how did you know of the hobbits’ passage through these parts?”

You hesitate for a moment, breathing slowly in the shallow quiet, but decide to trust him with the truth after all. “I ran into Bilbo Baggins a few days ago. He was out traveling through the forest paths, but seemed very different from his usual character. It was as if he had lost some crucial part of himself but was forcing himself to survive without it. He said that he feared his nephew would be undertaking a task of the gravest consequence and I was to help them if I saw them.”

A furrow deepens between the man’s brows, deep as the line of a plow through freshly planted earth. “You know Bilbo?”

Frodo takes this opportunity to step forward, albeit hesitantly. “Yes, it’s true. Bilbo has had her over for tea a matter of times before. I believe he met an ancestor of hers in Laketown many decades ago.”

The man looks between you and Frodo, then sighs, relenting. “You mean no harm, then.”

You regard him suspiciously. “Only if you mean no harm.”

He spreads his hands as if to make that point obvious, then puts away his sword. “I can prove it to you, if you like. Come over here to the window.”

He strides briskly across the room to hover by a lead-paned window, one that’s only just started to fog up from frost. It provides a good vantage point for the rest of the town, which is likely why the man chose this room to stay for the night.

The man points out the inn you saw the hobbits frequenting earlier, the Prancing Pony. “That room in the corner closest to us, second floor, would have been theirs.”

As you watch, dark shapes move slowly in the room, as if living shadows walk where the hobbits should have been. There’s one brief flash of movement, something that looks like the glint of moonlight of steel, and then an enraged howling pierces the night.

It is a terrible sound, and chills your very blood. Something out there in the night is absolutely furious, and its anger seems more ancient than even the oldest human towns.

You turn back to the man. “What is that?”

The man’s lips are pressed thin. “Those are the Ringwraiths. Do you see now why I had to hide the hobbits away?”

You nod slowly. “I believe I do.” You pause, then continue. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N L/N.”

Something almost like a smile flickers over the man’s face. “They call me Strider. I would recommend that you take the chair in the corner of the room, it would do to have at least a little rest before the morning.”

You do as he suggests, placing your traveling bag near the crudely carved wooden feet of the armchair. It’s a little overstuffed, or perhaps overworn, as patches of stuffing are visible through the threadbare upholstery. All the same, it looks as though it shouldn’t be too hard as to be uncomfortable.

“Why, what happens come morning?”

Strider glances back at you from where he’s retaken his watchful position by the window. “Well, we set out, of course. You are welcome to stay here, but I assumed that your dedication to keeping your word to Bilbo would indicate that you wished to go with us.”

A delighted grin rises to your face before you can hide it. “I would like nothing more.”

An adventure awaits you, then. How wonderful! It shall be dangerous, you’ve seen that from the Ringwraiths alone, but that doesn’t make it any less thrilling in your mind. All the best journeys have some threat of peril, don’t they?

You shake your head slowly, a soft smile remaining on your face even after you close your eyes for the night. It shall be a fantastic adventure, of that you can be certain.

You definitely seem to enjoy it more than the hobbits. As the first morning of travel wears on and it becomes apparent that they’ll have to give up their favorite trappings of second breakfasts and rest hours, complaints begin to pop up like weeds underfoot.

You, however, have no problems with walking. You stay by Strider’s side the whole time, eagerly asking questions about where it is that you’re going and what he plans to do. You do your best to not get on his nerves, but he appears to like the company, and asks you some things of his own, like how you got to know Bilbo and why the bond between you and the elder hobbit would have been strong enough for you to attempt to kill the kidnapper of Frodo and his friends.

When night falls, the hobbits all look exhausted from a hard day’s travel, and Strider urges them to get some rest while he scouts around the campsite. You prepare yourself to stay with the hobbits, yet he gestures for you to follow him, saying something about how it’s important for you to learn the basics of tracking in case something happens. You doubt that he’d let anything happen, but still. Important life lessons.

Strider knows what he’s talking about, too. He seems to find signs in the barest curl of a leaf, and what seems to be an ordinary patch of the forest is riddled with indicators to a passage of deer. Here, many stalks of tall wild grass are broken, there, long scraping against tree bark could show a young buck trying to deal with newly acquired antlers. It’s as if the wilderness is a symphony, and he can pick out each chord and scale with ease. Right now, it’s a confusing bewilderment of notes to you, but you’re starting to see the patterns.

About half an hour into the scouting venture, Strider stops stock-still. “Do you smell that?”

You shake your head, not quite sure what he means. Strider cocks his head to the side as if trying to he’s something.

“I swear there’s smoke here, like from a campfire.”

His face pinches with horror as he says the last bit, and both of you turn in unison to stare at the place where you’d left the hobbits. One tendril of smoke is just starting to waft up, and a bright spark of flame is visible despite the distance and foliage. It’s quickly put out, but the damage is down.

Strider’s mouth twists down in one sharp motion. “The Ringwraiths will have seen them, I know it. Listen to me now. There is an elf-maiden somewhere in the forest near here. She’ll know you because I know you, and she’ll find you just as well. Get to her, and tell her that the wraiths are after us. We cannot run from them forever, especially not now.”

You nod your assent and tear off into the forest. Strider goes the other way, surging towards the place you’d last seen the hobbits. A moment later, he’s gone, and you are all alone with nothing but your pounding heartbeat to guide you.

You realize that you have no idea how to find this elf, nor how you’ll know it’s her, but that doesn’t matter much. Your feet pound on unpacked earth, but even the sharpest thorns couldn’t stop you now.

There’s a burst of movement as you round a rather large oak, and you skid to a stop. You’re in a small clearing of sorts, but you’re not alone. A hooded figure stands across from you, gnarled and crooked fingers curved around a sword.

Even from here, you’re faced with this overwhelming feeling telling you to run. It rises in your throat like bile, choking out all thoughts except running, and running now. You want to go, but your feet stand firm. You’re here to find somebody, and you will not let Strider down.

Your one advantage now is that the Ringwraith does not seem entirely interested in you, more like it’s trying to figure out if you could be harboring hobbits. You suspect that it was sent back here to cut off potential avenues of escape, not to kill errant travelers.

Your hand closes around something in a pouch at your belt, and you recognize it as your flint and steel. There’s a fallen branch at your feet, and you reach for it slowly, as if you’re being watched by a bear. Quickly, you scrape the flint and steel just hard enough to form one spark. Then again, one spark is all you need.

The wood is dry, parched from a lack of rain, and it catches fire easily. The Ringwraith rears back from the sudden flame, then begins to move towards you, slowly, as if pushing through water up to its throat.

You, however, are fast, and unburdened by the force of your fear. You thrust the torch towards it, then slash your sword at the same time while it’s distracted. You won’t be able to hold it forever, but all you really care about right now is surviving long enough to get away.

You see a flicker of movement through the trees, and hope begins to return to you in bright-eyed force. You launch the torch towards the Ringwraith as hard as you can. The being rears back, stunned just long enough for a curved sword to appear out of nowhere and slash at its throat. The wraith disappears, although you’re not sure that it’s dead, just gone for now.

In its place is an elven woman astride a tall horse. She looks at you, a scowl marring her fierce brow, and you know her instantly. “You’re Strider’s friend.”

She smiles, and the sudden change in her expression is as swift as a night breeze pushing storm clouds away from the moon. “I believe that is a fair description.”

You point back towards the way you’d come. “He needs help. We’ve been caught by more of the wraiths and he’s trying to protect the hobbits.”

Her expression shutters in moments. “Ride with me.”

You accept her hand up onto her horse, and she starts off in a hurry. You move so fast that you swear you might arrive back at the campsite before you even issued the warning, like she traveled back in time from her sheer speed. The wind roughens your cheeks, but it is an altogether inhuman rush and therefore one of the best experiences you’ve ever had in your life.

By the time you reach Strider, he’s already dispatched the remainder of the Ringwraiths, although he still seems worried. Moments later, you figure out why- Frodo is huddled on the ground, stabbed by one of the wraiths’ cursed blades.

Strider addresses the elf as Arwen, and you can tell instantly that they’ve known each other for quite a long time. She smiles when she speaks to him, even despite the grave danger, as if the sight of him alone could cure her of any harm.

“Give me the hobbit, I can bring him home far faster than your party.” She calls to him.

Strider inclines his head to brush against hers, and you get the distinct feeling that you are witnessing something that was not meant for your eyes. You turn to head toward the hobbits, although just before you walk away you hear Arwen speak once more.

“I quite like your latest traveling companion, you know. They tried to take on a Ringwraith alone and likely would have won.”

You don’t catch the rest, as you’re speaking to a very distraught Sam, but soon enough Strider comes over to help Frodo up onto Arwen’s horse. The rest of you will walk to Rivendell, the fabled city of the elves.

As per usual, Strider turns to speak to you as you travel. “You really attempted to fight a Ringwraith?”

He is doing his best to seem chiding, sort of like a strict teacher who’s more inclined to wrap your knuckles than give out praise, although the whole image is belied by the proud smile that refuses to leave his lips.

You grin. “I did. I would consider it rather frightened by me. I was, of course, hugely intimidating.”

Strider nods slowly. “I wouldn’t blame it. You’ll enjoy Rivendell, I think. I did when I was your age.”

It’s such a kind thing to stay that it makes your whole outlook brighten. Somehow, you did enough right that this man, who seems leagues better at just about everything, would look at you and be reminded of himself. Perhaps you have a long way to go, but perhaps one day you could match even him for skill.

“I think I’ll enjoy it quite a bit.”

lotr/hobbit tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos