#sernilou

[hoyocrosspairs]

Serval X Nilou is a valid ship!

[pen-in-hand]

Forsaken Lands [ I ] || Leberiel - Éomer (Tolkien) 

This was a prompt from @imagines-for-the-unpopular that I added an AU twist to.  Éomer + I overall hate the human race, but you aren’t too horrible; bearable, at least. Age Of Meeting AU! Tattoo that tells you the age you’re going to meet your soulmate.

This is definitely a multi-chapter, so there’s more to come! I’ve also posted this on Wattpad and AO3! The original working title was 3021.

3021

That was the number tattooed on the inside of their wrist.

When she was an elfling, her friends had numbers such as ten, or fifty-two. Aside from her, the largest number was one-hundred and thirty-five. To know, that she would have to wait an entire age before meeting the one her heart belonged to, the one that would make her whole.

She was ostracized. Not intentionally, no. Never, of course not. It was only…

It was only…

That was the issue. She was an only. By the time a century had past and they had reached their maturity, that small group of eleven young elflings were the only ones in their small farming town, Thúl Dolen, tucked away in the foot of Ered Luin, north of the Gulf of Lhûn, in Forlindon. Too young at heart, too eager to love the world in its newfound peace, too young to remember the Last Alliance in naught but tales, told by their parents, who had sailed to Aman but the year before, the call of the sea too strong.

But that youthful innocence, that love of the world, quickly faded, and for one elf in particular. Leberil had a tattoo like any other, and sure, the number was high, but at least she had a number; or that is what she told herself. The worst of it, however, was the script with harsh corners and jarring angles. In comparison to the sarati that lived upon the wrists of her friends, the language was haunting and unfamiliar.

Seeing the age she would be when she met her other half should be comforting - at least she has another half - or that is what she tells herself, over, and over, and over, until one day she may truly believe it.

Years past, and the aptly named Leberiel - horse maiden - grew more recluse and more cynical, tending to the horses for the farmers in this minuscule village. Although tucked into the foothills, during the spring in particular, late autumn too, the village was a popular thoroughfare for travellers heading for the Gulf of Lhûn, following the summer festivals that lasted months in Mithlond. Despite all this, Leberiel would never allow her cynicism to consume her; she had to meet her soulmate after all.

One day, a strange man came stumbling into Thúl Dolen, dragging a weary mare behind him. Leberiel, at the age of 400 — give or take a decade or two — had never seen a man before. Their farming village was so sheltered, not even the dwarves that resided on the east of the mountains wished to venture.

With wide blue eyes, she watched as he collapsed, not three metres from her stables. Slowly, she approached the unconscious man, her long pale fingers tentatively reaching out, unsure if he was a figment of her imagination. A pain-filled groan started the young elf, her long, wild blonde hair falling in her face.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Leberiel quickly lifted the man in her arms, and brought the man to Faervel, the villages healer, before returning to tend to the exhausted horse.

Days past, and still the man did not wake. Leberil couldn’t describe it, but there was this gut feeling, deep inside, she needed this man to wake.

Never before had she had such a strong to connection to someone, a need for them to stay, to wake, to be.

If the elves of the village had not grown up around Leberil, they would not have been able to tell just how anxious she really was. One might of assumed it was merely a passing concern; she was the one to find him after all.

However, her friends knew better.

Nursing the tired and ruggard horse back to health, Leberil paid special attention to the mans horse, a way for her to vent her frustrations, something to keep her mind busy, to prevent her from visiting Faervel every day and asking after the stranger.

Finally, daybreak of the stranger’s eighth day under Faervel’s care brought the awakening of more than just the village, but the stranger too.

By the time Leberil became aware of the strangers state of wakening, she had sat down for her midday meal underneath an oak tree, overlooking the pastures that her horses preferred to roam. With a smile, she watched as the black mare, with hair that matched the obsidian Sernil had brought with her from her journey to Ered Engrin last summer. The stranger had brought the stunning mare with him pranced about playfully with her young foal, as if she, too were a newborn foal.

“Don’t get too attached to her.”

The amused voice of Faervel startled her from her thoughts, and glancing up, she met the gaze of the young healer, a delighted glint in his eyes that reminded her of jasper.

“Faervel, a pleasant surprise. What brings you out here to my fields today?”

The healers mouth twitched into a smile, like it was fighting a secret that was eager to gush forth like a mountain spring.

“Oh? Haven’t you heard?” Faervel’s light voice was even lighter as it danced with a teasing joy. Paired with the glint in his eye and the smile upon his lips, his words could only lead to mischief, as it once did when he was an elfling. 

Leberil’s empty stare in response was answer enough for the young healer. Extending his hand, he offered to help her up from where she was curled among the roots of the tree. The glimpse of the curling script on Faervel’s wrist was an ever-present reminder of Leberil’s own marking; the harsh penmanship hidden beneath long, flowing sleeves. 

Accepting his assistance, Leberil stood, and with her spare hand, reached out and gave a slight tug to the ends of Faervel’s dark hair.

“Whatever you think you’re going to do - don’t.”

The mischievous glint only grew brighter.

“So, you don’t want to go see our mysterious guest that woke this morning?”

A light slap on the arm and a scowl upon her face was answer enough, as Faervel lead Leberil to the healing house.

Tagging: 

@hufflepuff-jedi, @victias, @le–petit–croissant, @imagines-for-the-unpopular​

If you wish to be tagged in part 2, let me know!

[driftinglightofthewoods]

Value || Drabble

Summary: A not completely chronological yet long drabble about the relationship between Miston’s sister Amathel and her to-be fiance Lagoron. 

Characters: Amathel, Lagoron Also mentioned: Sernil, Brasson, Pellam, Kaziel (who belongs to @lacrimosa-magnolia )

“You’ve set me up with… Lagoron?” The captain looked up, brown eyes meeting the bright grey ones of one of her guard members- okay, not just one. Sernil would never deny Amathel’s skill or score as a guard member, but that was beside the point as she watched the dark haired elleth go through various conflicting emotions as she read the roster once more, before turning her head to her captain with wide-eyed confusion. “Why?!” it made absolutely no sense to the tall warrior, “He’s-“ “In the bottom rank, only above two others. He’s unmotivated to the point of being downright lazy and he’s more often found eating our kitchens empty than actually practicing. I am aware of this, Amathel.” “Then why- this is a mistake. You meant to set me up to train with someone else, right? Brasson?” “Clashing egos make a terrible team, Amathel.” “Pellam?” “She would have no say in any decision making, you are too power minded for her.” “Kaziel, then. Please?” Sernil raised an eyebrow, before letting out a small huff of disbelieve. Oh, if only Amathel could just accept a decision from someone else every now and then, that would make the whole situation a lot easier. “No. Kaziel is not technically a bad choice. He’s skilled and devoted, sure- but I guarantee you that your stoic and serious work attitude does not go along with his… somewhat childish nature. Amathel, there’s been no mistake. You’re training with Lagoron, end of discussion. You’re dismissed.” With a loud groan Amathel turned on her heels, stalking out of the study of her captain while grumbling to herself on how ridiculous this whole situation. Out of all people she had to train with Lagoron? Really?! Fine. If that’s what the captain wanted she would show what a useless decision it was. “You!” her voice roared over the training fields, with several elves looking up as they parted to let her through. She stalked right over to Lagoron, who had been sitting on the field casually eating a pear and looking up at her with mild annoyance over being disturbed. “For some reason, our captain has put you as my sparring partner for this month. I am going to prove to her that it was the wrong decision, and that I should be set up with someone else!” He blinked once, taking the last bite of the pear and chewing it slowly before tossing whatever remained over his shoulder, not even giving the slightest indication that he was about to stand up and do anything while their brothers and sisters around them had long decided to return to their own training- and it infuriated Amathel already. “Get up!” “Fine.” He was slightly shorter than her, more lean in build than her muscular frame- it was actually rather amazing that an elf who ate as much as the first hobbit you’d find was still as thin and lean as Lagoron was. He stood before her, still unmotivated. Out of pure frustration with everything, Amathel threw the first punch- Which he swiftly dodged. They stood there, silently observing each other with questioning eyes. Amathel wasn’t someone who missed her mark often and Lagoron had never shown such swiftness before- then again, when was the last time she had seen him practice anything at all? She couldn’t remember. With a growl she threw another punch, which he dodged again as if almost by instinct. Now fully enraged, Amathel threw everything she had into the spar- punches, kicks, moves and yet he all- “Stop avoiding me! Stop dodging!” “Well I’m not just going to stand there and let you rain your revenge on me!” “Stop-!” She felt her fist being halted by something, which gripped onto her hand tight and held it back enough for the muscles in her arm to shake from the strain. She looked up, seeing his hand in front of his face clutching down on… hers. “You…” “I-“

He dropped her hand, causing her to stumble forward as he was no longer holding back her weight, the palm of his hand quickly reddening. He winced in pain, flexing his fingers in some attempt to ease the discomfort- she did hit hard, even in practice apparently. “You blocked it..”

He watched her, continuously hitting the straw dummy over and over in frustration. Lagoron had quickly learned, within days even, that Amathel was prideful. The comment Sernil had made about her stance therefor had cut deep. Apparently, she tried to inflict that onto the straw dummy in the past few hours she had been standing there. He sighed, waiting a moment longer before approaching her. “Am?” With a grunt she hit the sword into the side of the dummy, causing it to get stuck- She bit her lip in anger, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I know you’re upset, Am. But this is not the way to deal with it.” “So I’m just supposed to ignore her criticism, is that it?” “It wasn’t criticism, Amathel. Not in the way you seem to perceive it. Sernil didn’t tell you to slave over this dummy for hours to get your stance right in one split second of battle-“ “So I’m supposed to do it your way, then?!” she snapped, turning to him in one fluid motion. “You take criticism as an excuse to do nothing! Because why try to improve, right?! Much easier to do nothing!” She wanted to say more, but stopped when she saw the hurt visible in his eyes. Oh no. She instantly regretted it, recalling the one time Lagoron had lowered his guard and told her how despite his desire of being a warrior he found it so difficult to be motivated since even if he tried his best, he still was out shadowed by so many in the ranks- as if everything he did was in vain. He turned around quietly, walking away from her as she made an attempt to reach out and take his hand. She halted in the middle of it, feeling tears burn in her eyes as she watched him leave. I’m sorry.

                                                                              “Can you please listen to me?”

If he thought he could outrun her on the tracking fields than he was wrong, he knew that well enough himself, but the least he could do was ignore her. She had hurt him badly and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to her apology. So he ran, gaze in front of himself despite knowing that she easily kept up with him. She could do more meters than him, faster than him- it didn’t matter. He was better at pretending she wasn’t there, if she would just- It was just one missed step, but it almost folded his ankle in half and send him to the ground, hitting it with a heavy handed thud. Amathel forced herself to stop, letting others run by until only the two of them were still at the same spot. She was in front of him in two steps, slowly kneeling down. “Lagoron-“ “Go away. Don’t you have a new record to settle? Break your old personal one?” “Lagoron…” “I don’t need your pity.” “I don’t pity you.” He looked up, gently pushing himself up into a sitting position as he looked at her knelt in front of him. He sought her face for any explanation, but didn’t really find anything aside from a strange sense of compassion. “I’m sorry, Lagoron. I’ve been incredibly mean to you. I haven’t been a team player, at all. I thought that if I proved myself to Sernil that she would give me a “dignified” sparring partner, that she would give me someone higher in the rank. But…. I understand, now. I understand why she decided to put you with me.” “To make you feel superior?” “To make me value my team.” He rolled his eyes, flinching back for a second when she reached her hand out to him. He frowned, staring at it in confusion. “I’m not going to claim that you are the strongest of our team. Or the fastest.” “Geeh, thanks.” “But you are brave. And just. I’ve seen you, Lagoron. I’ve seen you talk to Brasson and letting him discuss the things that frustrate him. I’ve seen you offer Pellam insight in which arrows she should pick and let her come to the conclusion herself. I thought Kaziel couldn’t be sad for long, but you sat with him and held him company when that… anniversary came around and he didn’t have the mood to do anything- when the rest of us didn’t know what to do to make our appointed ‘clown’ happy. You are only behind in your own training because you close the ranks- for our sake. You avoid fights because you’d rather help your team succeed. You keep us together, because you refuse to turn your back on anyone in this team. You…. No one has ever even tried to talk to me when I’m taking my anger out on those straw dummies- I didn’t value it. I didn’t value that you leave nobody behind. It’s about time we don’t leave you behind, either.” Once more Amathel reached her hand out to him, surprisingly gentle in the gesture. Lagoron looked at it, his gaze going up to meet her eyes before sinking down again to look at her hand. He placed his own hand slowly into hers, allowing her to pull him up. “Ow, ow. My ankle-“ “Here. Let me help you.” She pulled his arm over her shoulders, wrapping the other around his waist and allowing him to place most of his weight onto her- it wasn’t like she couldn’t handle that, anyway. Amathel stuck beside Lagoron, slowly but surely bringing him back to the normal training fields and to the healer’s cabin.

  “Are you alright?” She looked up at him, quietly, tears pooling in her eyes but none spilling. She didn’t even need to say a word for him to sit down beside her on the field, underneath the starry night sky above them that seemed to go on for miles beyond the tree tops. He offered her an apple, which she accepted and took a bite out of- the stress hadn’t allowed her to eat much during the day. He kept quiet for a while, thinking about what would be the best thing to say. “One failed test won’t make you drop in rank.” “I know. I’m still upset I failed. I trained so hard… I should’ve blocked that attack. After all the training we’ve done, after all I’ve seen you do- you would’ve thought I picked up some of your blocking.” “You’re not me, Amathel. You’re better at offense than defense, and with me it’s vice versa.” She sighed, looking up at the sky as she placed her hands behind her hips to support her weight. At least she was getting better at not letting her failures fill her with so much anger and frustration. She felt his hand on her own, looking at him from the corners of your eyes. “I’m proud of you, Ammy. If you want, I could help you train blocking for the next test?” “I would like that. I’m proud of you too, Lagoron. You’ve come so far.” He smiled at her, moving to rest his head on her shoulder and look at the sky as well. The stars seemed to shine even brighter and the moon casted it’s pale glow onto the field that was surrounded by rose bushes that would bloom again in the morning. Fireflies were dancing around and everything seemed at peace as was almost the norm in Imladris. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Lagoron.  You taught me how to slow down and just breathe.” “And you’ve gotten me of my lazy ass.” “You’re not lazy.” “Not anymore.” She gave him a playful shove, comfortable in his presence to the point where she didn’t feel like being serious about everything all the time, ruffling his blond hair until it almost resembled a bird’s nest. “Hey!” “I won’t let you talk bad about yourself again. You’ve done that enough and so have we, the rest of the team.” They sat there in each other’s company enjoying their surroundings in the quiet and calm night until Lagoron sat up, stretching himself with a yawn. He chuckled softly to himself, looking at Amathel from the corners of his eyes. She looked beautiful to him in the pale moonlight. A soft smile rested on his lips as he kept looking, eventually getting her attention. “What?” “I’m sure you’ll do fine on your next test.” “Lagoron-“ “You’re amazing, Am.” Amathel blinked, confused by his compliment as she felt a blush creep onto her face which only turned a deeper shade of red when he brushed a strand of her dark hair away from her face- he was suddenly so close to her. Almost as if frozen, neither of them moved for a while, their eyes locked onto each other as they were trying to figure out what to do next and how the other would accept the next step- She slowly closed the gap, gently pressing her lips onto his and feeling his fingers thread themselves in her hair as she cupped his face in her hands. It only lasted a fleeting moment before they both pulled back, gasping slightly before giggling nervously and turning away. “… That’ll stay between us, right, Am?” “Y-Yes. I mean, can you imagine if we told Brasson or Pellam?” “Pfft, I’m more worried about Kaziel. He’ll definitely tease us about it if we told him.” “We don’t need to tell our clown anything.” They both started laughing, the sound of it harmonious together in the silent night. “Still, this team would be boring without Brasson, or Pellam, or Kaziel.” “Aye.”