#oc: pippin

[fictionobsession]

Meet the OCs

Thenii art by @elfinbloodbag

Character sheets stolen from @tripleyeeet

Relationship chart template from @raysoffrost

ft. Thenii:

Thenii Begins (Thenii only)

The Wizard of Waterdeep (Thenii x Gale) - Coming Soon!

ft. Pippin

Jailbreak (Pippin, Virru, & Boone)

ft. Thenure:

Nothing...yet.

ft. Calahrin:

Nothing...yet.

[wolfcha1k]

This is a trade I owed my buddy @Musicalmutt2 who wanted her Sonaze kid, Pippin, playing with my Sonaze kid, Bounder. Threw in Silver just because I'm tired of everyone commenting on my stuff and others like he'd be some salty possessive incel nice guy over Blaze and Sonic's romantic relationship lol so here he is being the cool fun uncle taking the kids out to fly around.

Also redesigned Bounder again.

[rorauru]

meowsca pokesona that i really like actually [he/it!]

[mintybleh]

NEW PIP REF AFTER 700 YEARS!!

here she is, my favourite, my lovely blorbie, my Pippin Button. she's got a more pirate/rogue kind of outfit now, because guess who soon has two levels in rogue? she's getting up to no good oh boy

she's so special to me augh y'all have no idea also WHY DID THIS TAKE 4 HOURS???

oh and finally, a canon reference for the sword of fate after just 4 years, amazing

+speedpaint

[clefchan]

I did this for my fanfiction ( in french) about LOTR, with 3 of my OC in the background

[avephelis]

recently finished a hardcore monotype grass nuzlocke and since basil the leafeon absolutely carried i had to capture his glory

also had some insane shiny luck which was. very unlike me.

[themuseinthewoods]

Daughter of Warriors-Chapter twenty-five: when one must leave in haste

Amira still enjoyed partying with the hobbits. Periodically, she would read the poem from her father, it helped her miss him less. Although she became suspicious when her brother purchased another home by instruction of Gandalf. Amira, Sam, Merry and Pippin began scheming together. Frodo was planning on leaving, that much she could tell. Especially when he sold her childhood home to the Sackville-Baggins’s.

She was not pleased at all. Even more so when Frodo made her go ahead with Merry and Fatty Bolger. Amira had begun to hear rumors of the black riders riding abroad. “He’s definitely planning on leaving.” She immediately started talking with Merry once they reached the new house. “I'm scared for him, with the…” She stopped shaking her head but to make herself feel better she took up a post just outside the front door, smoking, wrapped in her cloak. She originally volunteered to go to fetch them but they did not have a horse or pony that would fit her. She drove fatty crazy with her pacing just outside the door, like a loyal dog, completely on edge.

Once or twice she had to run to throw up with worry. When they finally arrived she gripped Frodo so tightly he thought he might suffocate. In a whisper he confirmed her fears, she felt as if her stomach had turned into a pit of dread. As she excused herself to sit outside. Panic was rising in her throat, her breath coming sharp and fast. Glorfindel had told her of them, so had Elrond and Erestor. Not the nine, anything but the nine.

She came briefly into the home to sternly tell Frodo they were coming with him and there was nothing he could do about it before returning to her post. She did not sleep that night. She rose from her seat early, repacking her bag with her gear before waking the cranky hobbits to help them pack. Samwise was the most polite but that was just Sam. Quietly and carefully they left, the morning was foggy and a brisk chill of autumn to the darkness and Amira felt a shiver of fear roll up her spine. Wondering if she would ever feel safe again.

Not that going into the strange forest helped at all. She was on foot and still managed to make an easier way than hobbits on their ponies. The trees were thick and suffocating, she had never felt this way in the forests which she was usually so comfortable in. The trees seemed to move and block paths. It was getting late when they had finally found their path, following a small stream, her exhaustion from the night before fully caught up to her and she began to stumble, walking into a few trees, a few of which she tiredly apologized to.

The peaceful noise of the water, the weird whispering of the trees. She was not surprised at all when the hobbits stopped beside a tree nearby. Despite the fear she had of the nine, her legs gave out and she curled up on her side, sleeping like stone.

(the masterlist)

[ratattck]

Still thinking about them 😞💛 it will always break my heart how little male reader, especially hobbit reader, fics exist with them, anyway kissing the cousins in the mouth (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

[rhinocio]

ever are there more What Song shitposts

[svartabergetart]

Anglende Inqisitor Fellowship of the Emperor.

A kill team to protect a special artifact, to not fall in the hand of the arch enemy and to rule them all and darkness bind them.

[fictionobsession]

Jailbreak

Pairing: None

Word Count: 806 (is just little)

Warnings: none!

A/N: this is a between-game blurb for the multiplayer campaign I'm doing with @elfinbloodbag and @tripleyeeet so this is really for them - hope y'all like it <3

--

Pippin was mid-sneak, trying to take some potions out from under the nose of the injured tiefling, when Boone poked her head through the door of the prison.

“Hey, Pip, a moment please?” The whisper-yell wasn't quite enough to get the attention of the surrounding Grove inhabitants, of course, but Pippin cringed anyway. Pippin stepped back onto a squeaky board. Stupid old shack, what's wrong with dirt floors for godssake.

Luckily, the tiefling was too out of it to acknowledge such a tiny sound, and Pippin quickly made her way to the Druid's makeshift prison, making sure no one was watching as she slipped inside. Boone was standing in front of a cage, hands on hips, staring into the face of a goblin woman. Goblins have genders, right? Surely. Probably. Should probably learn some more about goblin culture. Do they have a culture? Everyone's got a culture I'm certain. Silly question.

“They've got 'er locked up.” Boone gestured to the goblin.

“What'd she do?”

Boone shrugged and looked up as Virru strolled casually into the room. “Best I can tell, she's just in here on account of being a goblin, and may have been with that crew we just...handled.”

“But, well, that's technically not a crime, is it? If she didn't hurt anybody?” Pippin asked, more thinking out loud than actually wanting an answer. She looked over at Boone, who let out a rather impressive yawn.

“She did say she'd get us into the goblin camp. Trouble-free. Jailbreak?”

Virru nodded. Pippin looked between them, already pulling out her lockpicking tools. “Never done a jailbreak before.”

Boone raised an eyebrow. Pippin's cheeks turned pink, suddenly very focused on the lock. “Well, never for someone other than myself anyway.” She rolled her shoulders and stuck her tongue between her teeth. The lock gave a final click, and the door swung open. The goblin, Sazza, she said her name was, sauntered out. Boone quickly pulled her weapon and aimed it at the escapee.

“I ain't gon do nothin'. Toldya I'd get ya in the camp, so I will. The Priestess will want to meet you. Put that down.”

Boone lowered her weapon – slightly. Virru leaned against the wall, watching. “So, not to be the voice of logic, but, now what?”

Pippin blinked at her, expression blank. Boone groaned, throwing her head back. “Nobody ever thinks things through.” She shot a glare at Pippin.

“Hey! I didn't do it this time! You said 'jailbreak' and I jail..broke? Anyway, I did what we all agreed on! I figured you had a plan!”

Boone grabbed the goblin by the elbow and started to lead her out of the prison area, only to be immediately stopped by the nearest tiefling. She turned Sazza around and went directly back into the room where Virru and Pippin were barely containing giggles.

When Virru was certain she could hold it together long enough to speak, she grinned up at Boone. “What exactly made you think that was going to work?”

“Was worth a try. Why go through all the effort of making an elaborate plan if you can just walk through the front door?”

“Well, we obviously can't walk through the front door, so what do we do? Pip, you have any ideas?”

Pippin shook her head and plopped to the floor. The others quickly joined her on the ground, regretting their lack of planning, and trying to figure out how exactly they were going to escape with the goblin.

They snacked on some food they had snagged from the Grove trader, not thinking or caring to share with their charge. Several suggestions were made and shot down for various reasons. The party's varying talents were quite useful most of the time, unless it came to things like sneaking or successfully lying. Boone was the worst at sneaking, and Pippin couldn't lie to save her life – literally.

virru narrowed her eyes at Sazza. “Does anyone have a scroll of disguise self?”

It was the first idea that had made any sense. The group all dug through their bags, coming up short on any scrolls or items that could help disguise the goblin.

They sat for what felt like ages, until Boone started pacing and Pippin started rooting through chests and crates looking for anything interesting. Pippin wandered around, finding a spot to jump down to a little area with bright orange mushrooms.

She noticed a glinting light just around the corner. “Hey guys? I think there's something back here.”

Virru was the first one to join her, with Boone following close behind. Virru squinted, trying to figure out what the shiny area was. “You know, that kind of looks like... a door? Why would there be a door back here?”

They shared a look, Boone striding forward to be the first through the door.

[gamerknight7310]

The Community Box 2024

Greetings y'all, this page will contain all the kwamis that reside in this box, which is 10. All of these are mutuals and friends of mine, so go check them out as they're all cool people, but with that sorted here they are.

|Octopus Miraculous|

Concept: Imitation

Jewelry: Tentacle Ring

Kwami: Inkii

Weapon: Whip Sword

Power: Mimicry - When activated, the user can copy the power of anyone they come into contact with.

Transformation Phrases: "Replicate!" "Originate."

Hero Alias (Holder): Octopunch (@adventuremaker21)

|Squirrel Miraculous|

Concept: Gravitation

Jewelry: Barrette

Kwami: Pippin

Weapon: Nut-Chucks

Power: Orbit - When activated, the user can move, manipulate, or otherwise interact with matter by controlling its gravity via touch including themselves.

Transformation Phrases: "Go Nuts!" "Nestle."

Hero Alias: Fouquet (@fabseg-reader)

|Panda Miraculous|

Concept: Balance

Jewelry: Split Pendant

Kwami: Akiika

Weapon: Quarterstaff

Power: Divide - When activated, the user can split a target into two halves, each representing their core aspects, their Yin and Yang.

Transformation Phrases: "Rift Apart!" "Conjoin."

Hero Alias: Panduo (@theytistic)

|Spider Miraculous|

Concept: Manipulation

Jewelry: Thimble

Kwami: Webb

Weapon: Knitting Needles

Power: Weave - When activated, the user can create a web and attach it to an object, which then gives them control of the object's movement.

Transformation Phrases: "Entangle!" "Release."

Hero Alias: Nettie (@kari-go)

|Painted Bunting Miraculous|

Concept: Art

Jewelry: Anklet

Kwami: Irris

Weapon: Paint Brush

Power: Sketch - When activated, the user can create and manipulate paint, using it to form portals or small pocket dimensions.

Transformation Phrases: "Paint Splatter!" "Clean Up."

Hero Alias: Graffiti (@naturegreenr-2)

|Owl Miraculous|

Concept: Precognition

Jewelry: Brooch

Kwami: Strixx

Weapon: Staff

Power: Foresight - When activated, the wielder can enter a state where time slows down for them, allowing them to see multiple potential outcomes and choose the best course of action.

Transformation Phrases: "Spread My Wings!" "Wings Fold."

Hero Alias: Howlet (@bakawitch)

|Silverfish Miraculous|

Concept: Intangibility

Jewelry: Bracelet

Kwami: Pappel

Weapon: Dagger

Power: Noclip - When activated, the user can move through solid objects and ignore most physical effects in their way.

Transformation Phrases: "Phase In!" "Phase Out."

Hero Alias: Lepisma (@generalluxun)

|Corvid Miraculous|

Concept: Transmutation

Jewelry: Earring

Kwami: Maggie

Weapon: Kunai

Power: Revision - When activated, the user has five opportunities to change an object they touch into another object. However, the object is changed by replacing, removing, or adding a single letter to its name.

Transformation Phrases: "Let's Alter!" "Revert Back."

Hero Alias: Jackdaw (@wisteriasymphony)

|Penguin Miraculous|

Concept: Equality

Jewelry: Mood Ring

Kwami: Tapp

Weapon: Spear

Power: Parity - When activated, the user can make their target their equal either by bringing them to their level or vice versa.

Transformation Phrases: "Slide In!" "Stand Up."

Hero Alias: Sky Skater (@itskarmalone)

|Wolf Miraculous|

Concept: Inspiration

Jewelry: Necklace

Kwami: Howll

Weapon: Guitar-Axe

Power: Charisma - When activated, the user plays their guitar-axe, giving them the ability to inspire others. How much they can inspire is based on their own charisma.

Transformation Phrases: "Rock On!" "End Show."

Hero Alias: Hex (@celestiall0tus)

[autistook]

DAISIES - pt 19

Merry Brandybuck x fem!hobbit!reader / soft oc

Words: 5.4k

Summary: Minas Tirith is burning and you and Merry arrive on the battlefield. It's time to fight for your lives.

TW's: Blood, violence, death, near death, graphic descriptions, angst

AN: For more feels, re-read chapter 12 before this one ♡

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

-

It felt like every other step the horse took, a tree branch smacked you across the face. No matter how much you tried to dodge the twigs; another scratch formed on your skin. If you pressed your face down; there were leaves tickling the top of your head. Your small grunts of frustration could be heard by everyone who was riding their horses near you. Merry stretched his arm back a little to give your knee a supportive squeeze whenever he noticed any discomfort in you, but eventually even he got irritated by the tough path everyone was traveling through, and he too groaned whenever a branch made his skin sting.

There was still quite a bit of road ahead, but with the lead of King Théoden and some newly found unknown allies, you all took a more discreet route instead of traveling down the main road. Unfortunately, this meant difficult terrains and rough paths.

“Not much longer until we can rest,” Éowyn whispered in your ear. “Please try to hold on.”

“This is frustrating. I am all scratched up!” you complained quietly back to her. 

“Just a little more,” Éowyn encouraged, slightly lowering her tone when she realized Merry was listening. 

“Dernhelm, you can see her?” Merry asked quietly.

“Yes, Merry. Why do you ask?”

Merry tried to turn his head to see your face, but he could not move his body quite enough without discomfort.

“Would you please take a quick look at her scratches? I don't want her to get wounded,” he said. Your body felt like it went limp for a few seconds as a wave of affection rushed through you.

“Of course,” she said and called your name. She gently examined your face as Merry held the reins. After she made sure you were nothing more than a little scratched up, she spoke again. “She seems alright. Nothing to worry about, Merry.”

“Thank you,” Merry responded and squeezed your knee again. You pressed your cheek against his back and he could feel your affectionate smile even through his armor. 

Your own armor had become more of a burden than useful. It was heavy on you and too big for your figure. You thought you would have gotten used to it by then, but every passing second it felt heavier, and you began considering tossing it aside completely.

You shifted your position, trying to get more comfortable and the clinking of the chainmail got the attention of a nearby rider.

“Getting heavy there?” he asked and you nodded, feeling more and more exhausted from holding the chainmail's weight. The man was maybe closer to the King in his age, and he had a few greys here and there in his beard. His green eyes seemed as desperate as any other soldier's, but behind the desperation, they seemed to be holding in a spark of hope and joy.

“Very much so,” you responded to the rider. 

There was a silent agreement with everyone who had traveled near you to keep the presence of you and Merry quiet. They knew how important it was for you both to ride to war with them, so they helped to cover up for you the best they could and at times were even chit chatting you and Merry on the long, difficult road.

“You might still want to hold onto it,” he said quietly, but his tone was firm; almost commanding. As your eyes locked on his, you saw a hint of concern in them. It felt like he was reading your mind. He looked at you for a long time before resuming: “You don't want to get hurt out there. It's better for you to have some form of protection, little one.”

You gave him a tiny, wary nod. Your body was tired and you just wanted to rip off the heavy metal off your body. 

Your thoughts kept circling back to the sense of relief losing the chainmail would bring, but every time you turned your head to the ground to see where you could possibly stop and get rid of it, the rider's eyes locked on yours and his firm gaze kept you in your senses. You needed the armor. 

“I am going to pass out,” you whispered as the darkness surrounded all of you, the lack of rest consuming you, while everyone was riding onward slowly but securely.

“We'll get to rest soon,” Merry said, his tone heavy with worry. “Please, just hold on for a little more.”

“I can't stay awake,” you muttered, fighting a losing battle with your eyelids.

“You can sleep, just do not faint,” Éowyn said softly. She scooted closer to you and so did Merry, making you fit more securely between their bodies.

“Are you certain?” you asked, eyes already closed.

“Yes, sleep now. We will wake you when we come to a halt,” Éowyn said.

And with that, your head hit Merry's back, your cheek squished against his armor and your arms went limp around his waist. Merry took your arms in his lap and held you tightly, even though it made it significantly harder for him to keep his balance in check. He wanted to smile as he felt your warmth against him, but his mind and heart were consumed with worry for you and for his friends.

“Hey,” said Merry softly, as the tip of his finger was poking your thigh. You let out a disapproving grunt before he poked you again. Merry's voice was gentle and almost paternal. “I'm afraid you need to hop off the horse with us and get some proper sleep.”

You sat up straight and rubbed some of the sleep out of your eyes.

“What time is it?” you asked, yawning.

“Late,” Merry responded and hopped off the horse. As he landed on the ground, he reached up and took your hands in his, steadying you before helping you on the ground. His heart fluttered as he felt your delicate hands in his. “But we are almost out of the woods now. Back near the main road.”

“Is the ride long?” you asked as you started scanning for a place to lie down. Merry guided you down to a small secluded area away from the largest groups of riders.

“Not so long. We are closer to Minas Tirith than I would have thought,” Merry responded and sat you down, carefully keeping your sleepy body steady by the small of your back. 

“How come?”

“You see that?” Merry asked and pointed through the trees, where in the distance was a small ball of fire.

“Is that Minas Tirith… on fire?” you asked, nearly panicking and Merry could not hold back a soft, amused chuckle.

“No, no. It is not. It's the hill of Amon Dîn and that is their beacon. At least according to Elfhelm.”

You nodded, half asleep and clueless.

“Of course,” you responded, trying to appear at least slightly awake and aware.

Merry sat down next to you and looked at you, his lips finally curling up into a wide smile. He admired how the soft light of a nearby campfire created dancing shadows on your face that made your eyelashes look even longer than they really were, and how your lips pursed slightly when you pressed your head on his lap. His heart skipped a beat when you cradled up into his lap, but almost instinctively he put his arm around your back and began stroking your hair to soothe you back to sleep.

“Dernhelm?” Merry asked quietly as Éowyn walked past.

“Yes?” she asked, smiling a little as she saw you curled up into a ball in Merry's lap. She found herself puffing her chest slightly when Merry looked her way, hoping it would somehow make her disguise as Dernhelm more believable to the young Hobbit.

“Is it far?”

Éowyn shook her head. Merry gave her a small nod before turning his gaze back to you. Éowyn observed you two for a few more seconds before walking away from you to get some rest, and to give you and Merry some privacy. Merry sighed and admired your sleepy, peaceful face. Your rosy cheeks were partly covered in faint scratches from the tree branches and he softly caressed his thumb over them. You let out a soft, quiet groan of disapproval.

“Is something wrong?” Merry asked.

“You stopped,” you mumbled back with a small pout.

“Stopped what?” Merry responded, confused, as he tried to analyze your face for any clues on your sudden disapproval.

“You stopped caressing my hair,” you pouted, barely aware. Merry's cheeks flushed from affection, and he immediately brushed a stray strand off your face and resumed combing through your hair delicately with his fingers.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” he whispered with a smirk. “It won't happen again.”

“Good,” you mumbled and gave him a tired, approving nod. 

“You know,” Merry whispered after a while, caressing your curls and moving them behind your pointy ears. “You would look rather beautiful with a daisy behind your ear right now.”

He had a big smile on his face despite you not hearing him, as you had fallen into a deep sleep in his comforting embrace. 

You flinched as the loud sound of the horn of Rohan reached your ears. Merry had fallen asleep with his arm on your back and the other one was still resting on the top of your head, likely left there from dozing off while caressing your hair.

“Merry?” you said, sitting up. Merry stirred and stretched his arms. His eyes were half-lidded, and he turned his head left and right, dazed from his deep sleep.

“Hm?” he mumbled. 

“We need to keep going,” you said quietly. 

“How long did we sleep for?” Merry asked, his voice low and heavy with tiredness. “I am still feeling exhausted.”

“Not long,” responded Éowyn with her low tone, still disguising herself in front of Merry. “A few hours at most.”

Merry nodded and stood up, stumbling on his tired feet. The chainmail on you felt heavy on your weary body, and Éowyn had to help you up on your feet.

“Are you sure you can–,” Merry started.

“Yes,” you responded, cutting him off mid sentence. Merry gave you an understanding nod, but his heart was in turmoil; in that moment he feared for your safety more than anything and a small part of him had hoped you would change your mind before arriving at Minas Tirith.

The horses were moving forward faster than before, and the sound of the horses galloping forth was filling the otherwise quiet air. 

You narrowed your gaze and scrunched your nose. A nasty scent spread all around you and your stomach made a backflip.

Smoke.

“I smell smoke,” Merry stated quietly. You gripped his leather armor with your fist, slowly trembling as fear crept up your back. Merry tried his best to keep himself in check and seem courageous, but his fingers were shaking as you approached Minas Tirith.

Screams.

“Merry,” you whimpered quietly and reached for his hand. He instinctively searched for yours and squeezed it tight.

“I know,” he responded.

You closed your eyes and swallowed loudly. Your knees began to feel weak and it was not only the chainmail that was pulling your body down; fear was making your body limp, though the muscles on your arms tensed up. You opened your eyes as the horses began to slow down.

Flames and smoke.

You closed your eyes in an instant and let go of Merry's hand, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist again. Your heart was thumping in your chest, and Éowyn too could feel it as she was pressed against your back, her body tense from fear.

The sound of clashing swords. Screams of terror.

Your ears began to ring. Your body began to shut down, every other sound drowning away, but the sound of your own rapid heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump. 

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Your ears perked up and your eyes flew open.

“Death! Death! Death!” everyone roared, their swords and spears in the air. You felt Merry raise his arm, his battle cry rumbling against your chest. 

“Death!” Merry cried along with the many men and Éowyn. Your throat was too dry to make a sound. And then the horns blew again, seeding courage into the men of Rohan.

Slowly, led by Théoden King, the horses began to gallop, their speed growing faster and faster. From the distance you could see spears and arrows pointed towards your direction, each and every one of them held by orcs, each uglier and scarier than the other.

“Death!” roared Éowyn behind you and her sword swung through the air, taking an orc out swiftly. 

Some men and horses fell down to your left, loud tumbling filling the air. Spears clashed against each other as the horses began running the orcs over, taking them down one by one.

To your right you saw a spear piercing through a horse's chest and an arrow taking down the soldier riding it.

Thump. Down. 

You looked to your left and saw the rider, who had been so concerned for your safety, take a tumble with his horse, both crashing to the ground. As you looked over your shoulder at the man, there was no more hope or joy in his green eyes. There was nothing.

Another one down.

You clung to Merry more tightly and he was swinging his sword in every direction he could, as fast as his body allowed him to move. His heart was beating fast, distractingly fast, but his mind was set on protecting you at all cost.

You heard a roar from an orc, and before your brain had a chance to comprehend what was happening, your arm was already gripping your sword, pointing it towards the source of the roar and piercing the creature with a loud swoosh and splat.

Thump. 

The orc was down.

Your eyes widened as you pulled back your sword and saw that it was covered in black blood. Your hand trembled as your head was filled with images of the orc lying on the ground all those months ago when you were protecting Rath with all the courage you could muster.

You could not move for a while. You held your sword with your right hand and with your left you clung to Merry, your knuckles turning white. All around you were the burdening sounds of war and death. The air smelled rotten and smokey, the chainmail on your body felt more heavy than before and your heart was beating so rapidly you feared it might burst out of your chest.

You looked up at the white city, the first layer of it burning, the front gate busted to dust. Loud cries of women, men, children and orcs were rumbling through the air, and in the sky you could see creatures that looked like they crawled out of your darkest nightmares; they looked like dragons, but much more terrifying and you could only describe them as an omen of death. 

As one of them let out a screech far away, you instinctively felt the need to cover your ears to muffle the horrible sound that pierced your ears; the sound that felt like it emptied your soul. You let go of your sword and Merry and pressed your hands firmly on your ears. Your ears were quivering with fear and your hands were cold. You thought about the first time you had heard those cries; back in Buckland, when Merry, Frodo, Sam and Pippin had first left for their journey. 

And you thought of your dear friend Pippin, who you knew was somewhere in the layered white city in front of you; the city that was starting to get covered in flames and death, and in your heart grew a fear that Pippin might not make it.

‘Poor Pippin!’ you thought. ‘Poor Frodo. and poor Sam! I wonder if they’re alive at all. Is there any hope left?’

Before you had time to give any more space to those thoughts, there was an almost deafening low rumble near your ears, announcing itself and its purpose to destroy.

Thump. Rough ground hit your back.

The horse that was just beneath you let out a loud whinny before getting crushed with a sound that you could never forget.

Éowyn screamed your name. She screamed Merry's name.

But there was no response from Merry; and no response from you. You were laying there in shock, overstimulated by all of the sounds and movements around you, fear darkening your vision and your back hurting severely from the fall.

‘Why is he not answering?’ you thought.

You sprung up on your feet and dodged a few horses that ran past you. Your eyes widened and your knees buckled as you saw a large oliphaunt, harnessed with red banners, charging towards your direction, making it clear it was what brought down the horse the three of you were riding. On top of the mûmakil were war towers, and on them spearmen and archers, each more terrifying than the other.

You stumbled to your left and the large creature stomped its way past you and towards other soldiers. Your breathing was ragged and your legs quivered in fear; you could not see Merry or Éowyn anywhere. All you could see was people facing their demise and the chaos that was surrounding them.

Your eyes scanned the battlefield relentlessly. There were splintering spears and clashing swords, enemies like you had never seen before, and many faces you had seen before - and many that you had not - laying lifeless on the ground, and around the field were spots of ground that were covered in black and red splatters of blood.

There was a round rumbling sound behind you and a crash so loud followed, that you felt your heart stop. Dust and sand spread in the air and blinded you for a moment.

You rubbed the specks of dust out of your eyes and when you opened them and turned around, you could see a large oliphaunt lying dead on the ground. For a split second it felt like Eru himself had laid protective arms over you, for you could not comprehend how you got so lucky the oliphaunt did not crush you to death. 

You turned around again, desperately seeking for Merry with your gaze.

“Merry!” you yelled, your voice raspy and faint from the fear in your heart and the dust in your lungs. “Merry!”

Your eyes widened as you saw an orc sprinting towards you. Its eyes were wide and green, with vertically slit pupils that it used to pierce right to your very soul. The orc's body looked like it was thrown in a bath of boiling water with sugar, and then thrown into a puddle of mud afterwards. As the enemy charged towards you, your knees buckled again. You took a few quick steps back and landed on your back, having stumbled on something. 

You could not believe your luck. It was your own sword you had dropped a moment before when you fell off the horse.

The orc screamed in a high-pitched tone before your sword cut its cries short, piercing through the orcs throat and making it fall limp on the ground next to you, a gurgling noise coming out of its mouth.

Your stomach twisted from the sound and you felt sick; but this was not the time to stay there and linger in dread. 

You sat up as straight as you could, wincing as you started to climb back on your feet. Your heavy armor kept pulling you towards the ground and it limited your ability to stand up, let alone fight. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

“Screw this,” you muttered to yourself in desperation.

Your palms and fingers hurt from pulling the chainmail off, but the second it hit the ground with a clang and a thump, you felt lighter and less fearful. Moving was easier and very swiftly you made it to your feet, the ground steady beneath you.

“Merry!” you screamed again. No response.

You saw a glimpse of a helmet you thought might have been Éowyn's, so without a second thought, you were already running.

Another cry from an orc caught your ears as it ran towards you, but swiftly you took it down, its legs giving up under your quick reaction time and the pierce of your sword. Your feet pattered on the ground and the wind howled in your ears. You called Merry's name and you called Éowyn's, but there was no answer. And she was nowhere to be seen anymore. But you kept running.

It was quick. Suddenly you were at the grumbled gate of Minas Tirith, dodging arrows and crawling by people's feet. It was one of those moments when you felt glad about your small size; you mostly tended to go unnoticed past the enemies, and the ones that saw you, fell to the ground fast.

The stone beneath your feet would have been cold to touch, had it not been taken over by the battle and Sauron's army. Now the lower streets of Minas Tirith were hot and burning, the smoke making it hard to see forth and forcing you to keep crawling at times in order to move forward.

“Merry!” you called out again, but all you could hear were unnatural sounds from orcs and trolls, the screams of dying soldiers and the cries of helpless people, forced to face their doom.

You ran up a street, not seeing two feet in front of you. Your fingers crossed you went forward, hoping to find Merry, Éowyn - or even Pippin; anyone who could give you comfort and a sense of security. And more than anything, you needed to see they were alright.

The smoke was making you cough uncontrollably and your eyes were stinging and watering. Finally you stepped on stone that felt a little cooler than the others as you made your way closer to the next level of the city. 

You gasped for air as you finally pushed through the smoke and made your way above it, onto a platform. You looked around through a misty vision and tried to search for any familiar faces through your growing desperation, but it was no use.

Nipping pain.

Merry was crawling on all fours, eyes closed and his body trembling in fear. His mind was set on finding you, but he could not get his body to respond. The large shadow passing over him felt too overwhelming and both his head and body refused to follow his orders.

And then he heard a strange noise. A high-pitched, almost proud laughter.

“No living man am I!”

As he opened his eyes, he saw her. There was Éowyn, her hair golden and her eyes sparkling with bravery, yet grim with an acceptance of death. 

In front of her stood the Witch-King, large, terrifying and dark, and he made Merry's blood cold. He was standing there, speechless as in front of him stood a woman, threatening to smite him if he laid his hands upon what Éowyn held the dearest; King Théoden.

The black figure swung his flail at Éowyn, and though many she dodged, one stroke fell on her shield and splintered it, along with it her arm.

Merry's heart was full of pity, fear and determination. He could not allow her to die, not alone. She meant a lot to him; and even more to you. He thought of you and how much you meant to him; how much he hoped you were alright; and how much he hoped you would forgive him, for he was certain he was now facing the end.

He crawled quietly behind the dark figure, lifted his blade and struck.

With a deafening screech the Witch-King crumbled down to his knees and Merry's right arm fell cold.

“Éowyn! Éowyn!” Merry cried, and the shieldmaiden pierced the enemy with her sword. The Witch-King of Angmar withered before them and all that was left was an empty helmet and cloak.

Éowyn fell unconscious before Merry, and he did not know if she had died. Whether or not, in front of him was also lying Théoden King, death in his eyes and blood on his mouth. Merry crawled up to him, to the man who he had started to see as a father, tears in his eyes, his gaze darting between the King and the pale, unconscious shieldmaiden of Rohan.

You looked to your right and the orc lifted its sword again. You swung your own weapon so quickly the orc did not have time to defend, and with a loud crash it fell through rubble and onto the street below you.

You touched your lower belly and winced. Something did not feel right.

The cries had quieted down. Some of the most courageous ones were still fighting, but many enemies had either retreated or had been slain. Many soldiers, good and bad, were lying dead on the battlefield and the streets of Minas Tirith.

Merry did not look at them. All he could do was try and stay awake; his arm had gone numb and cold, his eyes were misty and his brain was in an overdrive. Were you hurt? Was Éowyn dead? Were Pippin, Boromir and Gandalf safe inside the walls of Minas Tirith? Or was everything lost?

He was following other people who carried the King and Éowyn towards the upper levels of the city, but at some point he absent mindedly made a turn to an alley, where to his surprise and joy, he ran into Pippin.

“Merry! Thank goodness I've found you!” Pippin said, his heart lighter and his eyes lighting up from relief. He was wearing a black armor, decorated by the white tree of Gondor.

“Pippin?” Merry asked, tears in his eyes.

Merry stumbled into his arms, hugging him with his working arm as tight as he could and Pippin helped him to sit down. 

“Gandalf sent me to look for you when you didn't arrive with the others. I am so glad to see you again!” Pippin said, hugging him tightly. He pulled back slightly and looked at him, worried. “But are you hurt? Are you wounded?”

“No,” Merry stammered. “Maybe. I can't feel my arm. I can't use it at all. Not since… Where… where is she? It's all going dark again, help me, Pippin!”

“It's alright,” Pippin reassured and put one of his arms around Merry, lifting him up on his feet. “Come now! Foot by foot. It's not far.”

“Are you going to bury me?”

Pippin's heart filled with pity and fear.

“No, Merry. I'm going to look after you. We are going to the houses of healing.”

They walked the streets of Minas Tirith together and Pippin quietly listened to Merry, who was mumbling to himself; mostly mumbling your name. Pippin’s heart twisted and stomach turned. ‘Poor Merry,’ he thought. ‘Still feeling burdened from leaving her behind.’

“Pippin!” shouted Boromir as the two came to his view and he quickly ran towards the Hobbits. He kneeled in front of Merry and touched his cheek gently, trying to get eye contact with him. “Merry, can you hear me?”

Merry did not respond vocally, but he lifted his gaze to Boromir. He felt the urge to smile, but he felt too weak to do so. Merry had missed him dearly; like a big brother he was, but his arm was burdening him and it felt like death was trying to claim him.

And suddenly Pippin pat Merry's shoulder.

“Merry?” Pippin asked in distress and shock. Merry looked at Pippin and turned his gaze to the direction his friend was gesturing at.

Merry’s stomach turned and a surge of adrenaline pumped through his veins. He sprinted off of Pippin's and Boromir's grasps.

“Merry!” Boromir called out and before he had time to do anything, Pippin was running after Merry.

Merry knelt beside you and with his uninjured arm he lifted your head on his lap.

“No, no,” Merry mumbled, his heart shattering at the sight. When he got your head comfortably on his lap he reached his hand on your wound, blocking the bleeding the best he could. “It's alright. You're alright.”

“Merry,” you gasped through your tears. “Please, help me.”

“You're alright,” Merry said, visibly panicking. Pippin knelt down on your other side, looking at the blood leaking out of your stomach, his eyes widening in horror. He thought you were safely in Buckland.

“Boromir!” Pippin called. Boromir made his way beside you and he too kneeled down, a confused look on his face.

“Who is–”

“Help her!” Pippin begged. Boromir nodded and ripped a part of his cloak off, pressing it on your wound to slow down the bleeding. You winced from pain and more tears poured from your eyes.

“You're alright,” Merry repeated. He couldn't manage to say anything else; he needed to reassure you and himself. “You're alright.”

“I'm going to die,” you sobbed, gasping for air, while your brain was fuzzy from the shock and your ears ringing from the pain. Your fingers were cold in Pippin’s hands as he held to you, trying his best to provide some comfort.

“You're not going to die,” Merry said, his voice cracking. He put his hand on your cheek, firmly, but with care. He gazed into your eyes with a stern look. “You're not allowed to die.”

You nodded, though your vision was growing more blurry. You looked up at the sky and noticed there was a twinkling, bright star showing for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. A small smile crept up on the corner of your mouth as you gazed at the sky above, gasping for air again, your chest heaving raggedly.

“I've heard much about you, Miss Baggins,” Boromir said suddenly, trying to soothe down your nerves, hoping to calm Merry and Pippin down in the process.

You chuckled through your tears of pain and fear. “And I of you. Boromir, son of Denethor, I presume?”

“What gave it away?” he asked with a soft smile.

“You look like a true soldier,” you responded. His smile would have comforted you, but you could see it in his eyes; he was certain you were dying. You looked back up at the sky, your heart pounding faster from fear.

“You're alright,” Merry said again, his voice cracking from dread. He turned to look at Pippin and Boromir. “Is… is there… she needs help,” he stuttered, tears in his eyes.

“Gandalf is coming,” Boromir said, but his tone was not reassuring. “He said he would follow me right behind.”

Merry nodded, trying to find relief in Boromir's words, but as he looked back into your eyes, his relief was long gone and he began to feel hopeless.

“You're alright,” he said again.

“Merry,” you stuttered, tears falling from your eyes as you whimpered in pain. Boromir pressed your wound harder and you let out a loud cry of pain. “Merry, I'm going to die. And I….I…”

“You’re not going to die,” he said, his tone desperate and his last bit of bravery crumbling. He had now forgotten about his own pain completely, his mind consumed by looming grief.

“I…”

“I know. You're alright,” Merry said and ran his hand through your hair tenderly, his eyes wet and his gaze pleading desperately. “You're not going to die."

You swallowed as your vision started to blur more.

“I don't want to die,” you said, your voice barely a whisper now. Merry let out a sob. Pippin closed his eyes, crying silently, his heart growing heavy with fear.

“You're not going to die,” he said, lips quivering. He moved his hand to caress your cheek again. “I promised Frodo I would keep you safe.”

You tried to get a word out, but your mouth had gone dry and it took all of your strength just to stay awake. You focused your gaze solely on Merry, and you squeezed Pippin's hand weakly. Your ears were ringing loudly.

“Boromir, do something!” Pippin weeped, and Merry's fingers trembled on your cheek. Boromir kept pressing the wound; it was all he could do.

“You can't leave me,” Merry whispered through tears. You said nothing as your vision grew more hazy and your grip on Pippin's hand weakened. Pippin looked at Merry, falling apart, trying to hold your hand harder, hoping it would somehow give you enough strength. 

“Merry!” Pippin panicked. 

“Please, don't go,” Merry begged in despair and held your cheek more firmly, caressing it lovingly. “Please. Don't leave me. I need you here. You can't… you can't leave me behind. Please, don't go.”

Your ears stopped ringing and everything went black.

NEXT CHAPTER

---

@chatteringfox @shiinata-library @ahobbitsjourney23 @mayo-advance @datglutengoblin @mournthewicked @channiesbedbug @nicksworld0715

[mintybleh]

I love the chaos sibs, Pip and Iactur own my whole heart

here they're having their post resurrection nap, Pip finally being able to relax after carrying her brothers corpse for months,, screaming, crying

they love eachother so much, there's no Pippin without Iactur, and no Iactur without Pip

+speedpaint

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

I don't work well with pre-made colour palettes, so I wanted to try it out with an idea I had

Flam might not care much for his brother-in-law, but his niece likes spending time with him and that's a win in Zephyr's book!

Palette: "Remake Me In Your Image" (by @fivepointpalettes)

Bonus doodle:

Palette: "I Could Never Be You"

[themuseinthewoods]

Daughter of Warriors-Chapter forty-eight: The four hunters meet the Riders of Rohan

i love this drawing

Amira was used to traveling for a long time at varying different speeds and even she could admit that this was hard. Her muscles were burning, her feet felt like they were going to fall off and her shoulders were sore from her pack bouncing up and down, and while she desperately tried to hold it still and she wished her underclothes could have held her chest still with less constant subtle adjusting.

Legolas kept going between the three and Amira and Gimli were about ready to throttle him. “Hurry up Gimli!” The blonde elf turned and ran backwards for a few minutes before turning and hurrying up to Aragorn’s side. “"I'm wasted on Cross Country. We dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances.” Gimli joked to his friend and she giggled but shook her head, trying to regulate her breathing better. It was hard considering Legolas and Aragorn had slightly longer legs. To Legolas Gimli yelled over. "Dwarves too can go swiftly, and they do not tire sooner than Orcs." “Yes, we shall all need the endurance of Dwarves.” Aragorn spoke, placating and Amira sighed and began to push harder, she and the dwarf beginning to catch up to the other two.

It took several moments for Aragorn to realize that the figure with the long hair beside him was not the blonde strands of Legolas but the brown ones of Amira. They went on like that for several days. Occasionally Aragorn would stoop to the ground and inspect the prints. Once, he picked up a leaf brooch, one of the ones that had come with the cloaks from Merry or Pippin. “Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall.” Despite the grim circumstances, he felt his stomach flutter at the smile of hope she gifted the world and she hugged him tightly before hurrying off down the path of obvious orc tracks. The giggling from Legolas and Gimli did nothing to help.

Aragorn did have to pull her back when he spotted the riders and did not want her to be trampled and as Amira had simply planned for them to keep moving in the other direction once they had passed them by, she was surprised when Aragorn stood and walked forward. “Riders of Rohan! What news from the north?” The heir shouted and Amira gave him a look. “What are you doing?!” She hissed at him as the wave of horses uniformly turned and moved in their direction. “Getting their attention.” He held onto her tightly as the soldiers surrounded them and pointed spears in their faces.

A tall man jumped from his horse, handing his spear to one who got down beside him and drawing his sword to face Aragorn, he had a horse tail on the top of his helmet, unlike the others. He had brown eyes and a short, neatly trimmed mustache, he had armor with complex designs on it. “What business do you have in the riddermark?” He paused for a moment. “Speak quickly. How were you not spotted? Are you elves? There is a strange magic about you.” Amira opened her mouth to object but only got a small noise out before Legolas hit her in the ribs subtly and she let out a yelp. “And you bring a woman with you.” The man stated with more suspicion, though a general sneer seemed to overtake the company. “Nay, only Leoglas is of the elven folk, we are held in favor by the lady of the golden wood.” Amira spoke respectfully. A strange and untrusting muttering came about the group and a dark look of mistrust flashed across the man's face. “So it is true that a lady dwells there, few escape her golden net they say in old legends.” His eyes narrowed.” Your names.” He said more insistently now “Give me your horse master and I shall give you mine.” Amira wanted to smack Gimli and she had to restrain herself.

“A stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Eomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.” “Then Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you.”

Éomer's eyes blazed, and the Men of Rohan murmured angrily, and closed in, advancing their spears. “I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground,” Eomer’s voice was filed with barely controlled anger.

"He stands not alone,' said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an arrow with hands that moved quicker than the sight of a mortal man could comprehend. “You would die before your stroke fell.” Éomer raised his sword, and Amira released herself from Aragorn and stepped between the two. “Your pardon, Éomer!” Aragorn spoke with earnestness. “When you know more you will understand why you have angered our companions. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?”

“I will.” Éomer lowered his blade. “But wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your name.” “First tell me whom you serve. Are you a friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?" Amira knew he was being cautious but she also felt that this was overly so.

"I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel,” Declared Éomer. “We do not serve the Power of the Black Land, but neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?" “I serve no man, but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not pursue them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs who we pursue took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless.” Aragorn threw back his cloak. 

The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out (Amira felt this was slightly dramatic considering everything but continued to keep her head down). “Elendil!” he cried. “I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadain, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!” Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone that had been glimpsed along the river. For a moment it seemed to Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of the king like a crown.

Éomer stepped back and a look of awe was in his face. “Tell me, lord,” he said, once he seemed to have recovered, “what brings you here? And what was the meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone seeking an answer, and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What doom do you bring out of the North?” Amira sucked in a deep breath. The death of her friend flashing suddenly across her mind.

"The doom of choice,” said Aragorn grimly. “You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?”

Amira heard him speak of the slaughtering of the orc host and that none had been found and she pulled her hood back up, hiding her face completely. Her ears seemed to buzz, why hadn’t she tried to convince Merry and Pippin to not come? Had she let her own selfish desire for friends lead them to their deaths?

She had completely spaced out of everything. She missed Aragorn explaining how he had set out and all the stuff she probably would have found interesting. Finally, when she noticed a lull in the conversation, she reached out and hesitantly gripped Aragorn’s hand and whispered softly in elvish, looking into his blue eyes and pleading with him to listen to her, not noticing (or disregarded) how his eyes softened and he seemed to calm. “Please, can we see if it is true?” Aragorn turned to Eomer. “Could we borrow a few of your horse’s? We shall return them with all due haste, but Amira, my right hand, was close to the two hobbits and she wishes to make absolutely sure.” “Of course my lady. I only have three.” Gimli immediately began protesting riding at all, saying he could keep up on foot. “I do not think…that I shall be able to ride alone should it be true.” Amira admitted in a shameful murmur to the man whose hand she still held. “It is alright, Amira will ride with me. Gimli, you can ride with Legolas.” Aragorn winked at her and then led her by the hand after him as he followed Eomer to the horse’s. It was entertaining to listen to Legolas instruct the men to remove the saddle, which in turn made Gimli even more uncomfortable with the whole arrangement.

Aragorn climbed onto the steed and pulled the woman up behind him. She was sitting half on the saddle and half on the horse's bareback and gripped the man in front of her tightly. As they rode towards the smoke in the distance, Amira found herself preparing for the worst.

(the masterlist)