#winter is coming but so is gandalf

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Unhinged or unhinged?

[elodieunderglass]

Having dug out the Unfinished Tales to reference a conversation Tolkien wrote between Gandalf and Pippin (but didn’t publish) I thought I’d share it. Gandalf is talking to Pippin about the history of Thorin’s company, hobbits and why he chose Bilbo.

This is evidence for the grand statement I just made about how Bilbo was intended to be a catalyst that changed his society, and that hobbit society was indeed significantly different after his journey, with large social changes occurring between The Hobbit and Fellowship. But it’s also a very funny passage to me so here it is:

‘And then there was the Shire-folk. I began to have a warm place in my heart for them in the Long Winter, which none of you can remember.

They were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed. But that was the time to see their courage, and their pity one for another. It was by their pity as much as by their tough uncomplaining courage that they survived. I wanted them still to survive.

(😭😭😭😭. Also the theme of having pity for each other is what redeems both Bilbo and Frodo re: Gollum.)

But I saw that the Westlands were in for another very bad time again, sooner or later, though of quite a different sort: pitiless war.

(This is possibly one reason why this passage didn’t make it to publication - Gandalf shouldn’t have had this much foreknowledge of the upcoming war of the ring.)

To come through that I thought they would need something more than they now had. It is not easy to say what. Well, they would want to know a bit more, understand a bit clearer what it was all about, and where they stood.

(It’s also explaining that Bilbo’s role in Thorin’s company was predetermined both by a more omnipotent Gandalf and by Fate; that Gandalf selected Bilbo to be a social catalyst, to return and provoke hobbit society into a more adaptable, resilient state; therefore increasing their chances of surviving.)

They had begun to forget: forget their own beginnings and legends, forget what little they had known about the greatness of the world. It was not yet gone, but it was getting buried: the memory of the high and the perilous. But you cannot teach that sort of thing to a whole people quickly. There was not time.

(Thus Bilbo was supposed to be changed, and return changed by his journey, to teach his people.)

And anyway you must begin at some point, with some one person. I dare say he was “chosen” and I was only chosen to choose him; but I picked out Bilbo.’

‘Now that is just what I want to know,’ said Peregrin. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘How would you select any one Hobbit for such a purpose?’ said Gandalf. ‘I had not time to sort them all out;

(He is SO funny)

but I knew the Shire very well by that time, although when I met Thorin I had been away for more than twenty years on less pleasant business. So naturally thinking over the Hobbits that I knew, I said to myself: “I want a dash of the Took” (but not too much, Master Peregrin)

(This is brilliant we are always BODYING pippin constantly. NOT TOO MUCH TOOK 👀. We were ROBBED not having this in canon )

“and I want a good foundation of the stolider sort, a Baggins perhaps.” That pointed at once to Bilbo.

(Eugenics! Observing them like laboratory mouse lines! Call him a Charles River BILB/o the way you’re genotyping these poor little bastards for your purposes)

And I had known him once very well, almost up to his coming of age, better than he knew me.

(??? Hiding in the bushes spying or…?)

I liked him then. And now I found that he was “unattached” – to jump on again, for of course I did not know all this until I went back to the Shire. I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd, though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not the one that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master.

(Was it cos he’s gay as fuck, Gandalf)

No, I guessed that he wanted to remain “unattached” for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself – or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him.

(I 100% now and for always love a narrator in a constant state of Just Fucking Lies To Everyone All The Time, Giving Us Nothing, Acknowledging Nothing Including Himself. NOPE NOT PROCESSING ANYTHING TODAY THANKS. WE’RE CLOSED. COME BACK TOMORROW. just A Massive Liar about everything and for what!!! Bilbo Baggins my beloved you were born wrong.)

He wanted, all the same, to be free to go when the chance came, or he had made up his courage. I remembered how he used to pester me with questions when he was a youngster about the Hobbits that had occasionally “gone off ”, as they said in the Shire. There were at least two of his uncles on the Took side that had done so.’

You can see why I love this! And I can see why Tolkien didn’t include it, too. Still very fun passage and near enough to canon to be used if you ever want to.

[thewulf]

I Choose You || Legolas

Summary: Request - Hii hope you're having a good day, is it okay if I request a Legolas x reader where reader is Gandalf's granddaughter and joined the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring? They both slowly fell in love with each other along the way and when the incident in Moria happened where Gandalf dies, Legolas comforts her.

A/N: Thank you for the amazing request! Had a blast writing this as usual :) It's a lil long, so enjoy!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: Talks of war/death, war, death, orcs, general LOTR triggers

You stand silently amidst the gathered council fading into the background as best you could. The murmur of many voices echoing softly through the vaulted halls of Rivendell. The air is crisp, filled with the mingling scents of ancient scrolls and the distant freshness of autumnal leaves. Elves, men, dwarves, and even a few hobbits have come to discuss the fate of Middle-earth, their faces marked by concern and resolve.

Your grandfather, Gandalf the Grey, stands at the center of it all. His presence both commanding and comforting. You’ve always admired his wisdom and strength and today, more than ever, you feel the weight of your lineage. You are his granddaughter, gifted with a touch of his magical prowess and a deep love for the mysteries of this world.

As the debate swirls around you, Elrond, the lord of Rivendell calls for silence. His gaze settles on the small golden ring laid upon the pedestal. It’s simple form belying its terrible power. The task is clear though the path is fraught with peril: the ring must be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. "We must form a fellowship," Elrond declares. His voice resonant and clear. "Those who will take this burden upon themselves and walk into the shadow to see this evil undone."

A hush falls over the council. Eyes turn, some in fear, others in anticipation, seeking those who might step forward. This is the moment you’ve prepared for, not just since you arrived in Rivendell but throughout your life under Gandalf’s tutelage. With a breath that steadies your resolve you step forward. The rustle of your cloak is like a whisper against the stone floor and several members of the council turn in surprise as you move into the circle of light cast by the morning sun through the high windows.

"I will go," you say, your voice firm and clear. "For the love of my grandfather and for the safety of middle earth. I will see this quest through to its end."

Murmurs of approval ripple through the room and Gandalf meets your eyes across the circle. There’s pride in his gaze and a touch of sorrow, knowing well the dangers that lie ahead. But in this moment you see also the unspoken bond between the two of you. An acknowledgment of the shared commitment to what is right, no matter the cost.

Legolas, a prince of the Woodland Realm, nods to you with respect clear in his bright eyes. Beside him, a stout figure grumbles under his breath, yet Gimli the Dwarf gives a curt nod of assent, recognizing your courage. Beside them a young hobbit named Frodo, who is to be the Ringbearer, looks on with wide, earnest eyes. It is for him, and for all who call this land home, that you pledge your strength. As the council disperses to prepare for the journey you stand beside Gandalf feeling the ancient power of Rivendell around you and the even older strength that lies within your own heart. This is just the beginning you know but you are ready. For the Fellowship, for middle earth, for Gandalf.

You will face whatever comes, together.

As the Fellowship journeys south from Rivendell the path grows increasingly treacherous, winding through craggy mountain passes and shadowed forests. The air is crisp and the first frost of winter sparkles on the leaves. Your companions walk close together. Each step a testament to the weight of the task ahead.

Aragorn leads with a steady hand, his ranger skills essential as the terrain becomes more challenging. Beside him, Boromir of Gondor often lends his strength. His booming voice echoing off the stone trying to keep spirits high among the group, especially the hobbits—Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin—who find amusement in the smallest wonders along the way. Like the frost patterns on the leaves or a particularly stubborn squirrel.

Legolas glides effortlessly beside you. His elven grace a stark contrast to Gimli who stumps along with a determined scowl, his axe ever at the ready. Despite the solemnity of your mission the elf and the dwarf have already begun what seems to be an endless competition, each trying to outdo the other in tracking skills, strength, and the telling of tall tales.

One balmy afternoon as the path narrows along the edges of a steep ravine the rivalry comes to a head between the two of them. Gimli insists he can clear a particularly large fallen tree with a single vault much to Legolas’s skepticism.

“Watch and learn, Master Elf,” Gimli grunts as he began to back up for a running start. Legolas watches with an arched eyebrow, clearly very amused by the red headed dwarf travelling beside him.

Just as Gimli begins to charge forward you step in placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps, Gimli, it would be wiser to assist each other over the obstacle rather than compete with others. After all, the road ahead promises ample challenge for both of your strengths.” You smile warmly down at the ambitious dwarf set out to prove himself.

Gimli stops mid-stride puffing out his chest a bit as he turns to you, then to Legolas. “Hmm, perhaps you are right, lass. What say you, Legolas? Shall we make this journey a test of our cooperation rather than our competition?”

Legolas’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes sparkling with a newfound respect. “I believe our companion speaks wisely. Let us proceed together.” He offers his hand to Gimli who looks at it for a moment before shaking it heartily.

As the journey continues you find yourself often mediating and bringing lightness to tense moments. One evening as the Fellowship gathered around the campfire you recount a humorous anecdote from your days studying under your grandfather. Making sure to mimic Gandalf’s stern voice and dramatic gestures. The group erupts into laughter, the sound carrying through the trees and lifting the spirits of all including the hobbits who clap delightedly and ask for more stories.

Aragorn, sitting across from you nods appreciatively. His eyes meeting yours with a silent thank-you for the lightness you bring. Boromir chuckles, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes clearly more at ease. “You have the gift of your grandfather. Not only in magic but in spirit.” Aragorn comments, his voice warm in the chill air.

Legolas who was sitting beside you leans closer and speaks softly, “Your wisdom brings much-needed peace. And your humor is a light in dark times. It is a rare gift.”

You meet his gaze. The firelight cast dancing shadows across his features. All elves were beautiful but there was something about the Price of Mirkwood that drew you in. “We all carry our gifts, Legolas. Yours is your unerring optimism and sharp eye. Gimli’s his steadfastness and heart. Boromir’s his valor. Aragorn’s his leadership. And the hobbits’ their enduring cheer. Together we are stronger than each individual.”

As the nights grow longer and the path more daunting the bonds within the Fellowship deepen, fortified by shared challenges and your quiet efforts to understand, and support each other. In the quiet moments Legolas teaches you Elvish songs of old. And Gimli shares tales of the great Dwarven halls, their voices blending into the night creating a tapestry of friendship and hope.

As the Fellowship delves into the ancient depths of Moria the air grows thick with the mustiness of ages and the weight of stone. The walls echo with the memory of Dwarven voices, now silent. The path is lit only by the faint glow of Gandalf’s staff. Gimli moves with a mix of reverence and sorrow. His eyes reflecting a deep familial connection to the lost realm of his kin. The narrow passages twist and turn leading you deeper into the mountain’s heart. The quiet is oppressive, only broken by the occasional drip of water or the scuffle of a boot on stone. Tension mounts with each step and even the normally unflappable Legolas seems taut, his eyes scanning the shadows.

All too suddenly, the dark stillness erupts into chaos. A low growl escalates into a deafening roar as the Balrog, a creature of fire and shadow, reveals itself. The ground trembles beneath its weight and the air sears with heat. Gandalf steps forward his face set with grim determination. “Lead them on, Aragorn,” he commands. “The bridge is near. Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!” Your grandfather cries as he gives you a sharp look. Obey. You must listen to him now.

The Fellowship rushes forward driven by fear and the urgent need to escape, but you hesitate, your heart torn as Gandalf faces the monster alone. As the others cross the bridge of Khazad-dûm you watch, helpless, as Gandalf confronts the Balrog. His staff was raised, a brilliant light flaring to meet the darkness.

“You cannot pass,” Gandalf declares. His voice echoing powerfully. It sends a shutter down even your spine.

The Balrog advances and with a defiant cry Gandalf strikes the bridge with his staff. It crumbles sending the creature plummeting into the abyss. But the Balrog’s fiery whip lashes out, catching Gandalf’s leg, pulling him towards the edge. With a calm but utterly sad glance back at you, he murmurs, “Fly, you fools,” before falling into the darkness below.

Shock paralyzes you momentarily, tears blurring your vision. The others tug at you, pulling you away from the crumbling edge. As you flee Moria the loss of your beloved grandfather hits you. A deep ache that seems to echo through the empty halls. Outside, under the grey, mourning sky, the Fellowship collapses in a clearing. Each member grappling with grief. Your knees give out and you sink to the ground, overwhelmed by sorrow. Legolas is at your side in an instant, his presence a silent solace. He does not speak, but his hand finds yours, squeezing gently. A clear reminder that you are not alone.

Gimli joins you. His own eyes rimmed red. “He was the greatest of us all,” he says gruffly with his voice thick with emotion. “I am honored to have walked beside him and I vow to you, we will see this quest through. For him and for all our sakes.”

The words are a balm to your spirit even as you could not reply. Words were too hard for you now. You lean into Legolas, his strength supporting you. You mourn the loss of the only thing you knew. Legolas and Gimli by your side reminding you that even in the depths of loss, the bonds of friendship and love hold firm.

You manage to whisper a weak "Thank you," before the sorrow overwhelms you once more. Tears flood your cheeks, each one a memory, a moment shared with Gandalf that you'll never experience again. Overcome, you turn into Legolas's side, seeking the comfort that only close, physical presence can provide.  Though he was not typically fond of physical touch he does not hesitate to comfort you. He wraps his arms around you, his embrace firm and unwavering. In this moment your need transcends his usual reservations, and he holds you close. A silent sentinel in your hour of vulnerability.

His hands are steady on your back, one arm around your shoulders, the other at your waist, grounding you as your grief spills forth unchecked. Legolas's heart aches for your loss and though he may not express his emotions openly his actions speak a clear language of care and adoration. As you cry into his side, Legolas rests his chin atop your head. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon where the last light of day gives way to twilight. He feels the weight of your sorrow as if it were his own, yet he knows he must stand strong for you.

Legolas knows that the road ahead will be fraught with further trials but for now, he offers you all that he can—protection, comfort, and an unspoken promise that no matter what lies ahead, you will not face it alone. In the stillness that wraps around you and Legolas there's a respectful pause from the rest of the Fellowship. They were giving you a moment to collect yourself under the cloak of Legolas's support. Aragorn, ever attentive to the needs of his comrades, notices the depth of your grief and the comfort Legolas provides. He understands the significance of this moment, the necessity of mourning and the importance of support in such times.

Standing a short distance away Aragorn speaks quietly with the hobbits making sure everyone is ready to continue but delaying their departure ever so slightly for your sake. His leadership is subtle. His decisions shaped by a deep understanding of his people's emotional and physical stamina.

After a brief moment, Aragorn looks over, his eyes meeting Legolas’s over your bowed head. There’s a silent communication between them. A leader’s acknowledgement and a friend’s gratitude for the support given to one of their own. Aragorn’s face softens, his respect for whatever was forming between you two clear in his gentle nod.

With a deep breath, signaling both readiness and respect, Aragorn approaches. His voice is soft yet carries a necessary urgency as he speaks. His words meant to soothe but also to remind of the path ahead. “We must move on for night will not wait for us and neither will our enemies,” he spoke with his tone conveying both compassion and resolve. “Take the time you need but remember we must not linger long.”

Legolas gently helps you stand straighter his arms still offering support. As you wipe away the last of your tears, strengthened by the comfort you’ve received, you nod in understanding. Legolas gives you a reassuring look. His eyes promising continued support and then he gently releases you. He was ready to stand by your side as you all prepare to resume the journey. With a final glance at Gandalf’s last stand you and the Fellowship gather your gear and set off once more into the fading light. The memory of Gandalf a guiding light that pushes you forward through the darkness.

Emerging into the sunlight of the world again does little to lift the sorrow of the Fellowship which soon deepens with Boromir’s tragic fall at Amon Hen. His valiant defense of Merry and Pippin against the Uruk-hai, though ultimately costing him his life, marked him forever a hero in the annals of your journey. The loss of such a stalwart companion leaves a void in your heart and within the group, casting a pall over your spirits.

Driven by a fierce determination to honor Boromir’s sacrifice, you, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli give chase across the plains of Rohan to rescue Merry and Pippin from their captors. The pursuit is grueling. Pushing each of you to your very limits. The landscape of Rohan is vast and relentless, but the tracks are clear, guiding you unerringly toward the thick fringes of Fangorn Forest. The hope of rescuing the hobbits fuels your weary bodies onward even as your hearts ache with the memory of Gandalf's fall and Boromir’s courageous end.

As you follow the trail into the shadowy depths of Fangorn a sense of ancient watchfulness grows. The forest feels alive, old beyond reckoning, and filled with secrets. It is here among the whispering trees that the unexpected happens. A figure steps out from the shadows garbed in white, his presence bright against the dark underbrush. The shock of seeing what you believe might be Saruman stops you in your tracks. But as the figure approaches the energy changes—the air around him shimmers with a familiar warmth and power. Not the cold malice of Saruman.

"Gandalf?" Legolas breathes. A note of awe mingling with disbelief.

You squint, hardly daring to believe it to be true. As he draws closer, clarity dawns, and recognition floods your senses. Overcome with emotion you shout, "Grandfather!" and sprint toward him. Your heart swelling with joy and relief.

Gandalf opens his arms wide, and you crash into his embrace. The impact strong yet comforting. "My dear child," he murmurs. His voice warm and welcoming as he wraps his arms around you. His cloak envelops you with a familiar scent of pipe-weed and the road clinging to the fabric grounding you in the reality of his return.

"Yes, it is I," Gandalf responds gently, now looking down at you with sparkling eyes, "but as Gandalf the White. I come back to you at the turn of the tide. Stronger and renewed. Just as our hope must now be."

The grief at Boromir’s death and the shock of Gandalf's return blend into a complex tapestry of emotions. The initial shock gives way to a festive air as relief and joy wash over Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They join in, their earlier despair replaced by laughter and words of amazement, forming a tight circle around you and Gandalf.

As Gandalf explains his battle with the Balrog and his subsequent rebirth his words filling the gaps in your understanding and rekindling hope in your hearts. His return not only signifies a miraculous second chance but also invigorates the Fellowship with renewed purpose and determination. With Gandalf's guidance now as Gandalf the White you all feel a renewed sense of purpose. The path forward is still fraught with danger but with Gandalf returned, and in memory of Boromir’s bravery, you are reminded that even in the darkest times there can be resurrection and hope. Together you prepare to resume the quest, stronger and more determined than ever.

"Your guidance has been sorely missed, Gandalf," Aragorn says. His voice steady but thick with emotion as he joins you. He captures the mood of the moment, channeling the Fellowship’s relief into focus. "What should we do? Frodo and Sam are gone to Mordor. Merry and Pippin are captives of the enemy." Gandalf releases you from the embrace but keeps one hand on your shoulder, grounding, and comforting. He surveys the small group with a decisive gaze and the air around you seems to thrum with renewed energy and urgency.

"We will split our efforts," he declares. "Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and you," he nods at you, "will pursue the orcs who took Merry and Pippin. Every second counts and your skills will be crucial in navigating this perilous chase."

You try and protest, but he shakes his head continuing along. "Meanwhile, I shall seek aid from the Ents of Fangorn," Gandalf continues, turning to look at the dense woods behind him. "Their strength will be necessary in the wars to come. We must rally all allies for the shadow from the East grows ever bolder."

As plans are made Legolas stands close by your side, his presence a silent vow of protection and partnership. You feel his hand briefly squeeze yours. A gesture of support that sends a surge of warmth through your heart that he had done so many times before.

"You have grown much, under shadow and trial," Gandalf remarks. Looking at you with a blend of pride and affection With the reunion drawing to a close and the path forward set you all prepare to leave. Gandalf’s return has not only brought back a beloved mentor and friend but has reignited the flame of hope within your heart. Together you feel ready to face the challenges that await knowing that the bonds of friendship and duty will guide you through the darkest of times.

As you traverse the expansive lands towards Rohan the camaraderie within the group deepens, each member adjusting to the rhythms of travel and the complexities of intertwined destinies. Amidst these dynamics your relationship with Legolas finds new ground. The elven prince, always serene and composed, begins to show a more attentive and tender side in his interactions with you. His glances linger longer and his conversations, once filled with tales of ancient elven lore, now often drift towards thoughts and dreams of the future, your future.

It’s during one of the long nights while camped under the vast, starlit sky near the borders of Fangorn Forest, that Gimli noticed the growing tension between you and Legolas. He decided to give you both some space. With a knowing wink and a gruff voice Gimli volunteers for the first watch, his tone unusually gentle. "I reckon the night is best shared with stars and heartfelt words, not an old dwarf's snoring."

Grateful, you share a smile with Legolas as Gimli settles a little distance away, his back to you, affording you a semblance of privacy. Legolas turns to you with his blue eyes reflecting the starlight, and for a moment he simply looks at you as if contemplating a thought long held in silence. "I have seen many wonders in my long life," he starts, his voice soft and mesmerizing under the night sky. "But none compared to the courage and kindness I've seen in you. In these trying times you have become a light guiding me."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you. "And you, Legolas, have been my solace. In you I find peace amidst turmoil. A joy that even the darkest shadows cannot diminish." He smiles. His gaze intensifying with affection and something more, something unspoken yet palpable between you. Then, in a move that surprises you both for its boldness and its intimacy, Legolas shifts closer and gently pulls you into his side. It's a daring gesture for an elf, particularly one as reserved as Legolas. But it feels right as if many paths had converged to bring this moment into being.

The warmth of his body against yours, the protective embrace of his arm—these are things you never expected to find so far from home. "It seems we have found comfort in one another's presence," he says softly. "Would that we might find a way to keep this light alive… no matter what lies ahead?"

"I would like that very much," you whisper as you leaned into the strength of his embrace.

The two of you sit under the blanket of night talking softly of dreams for a peaceful future and the immediate plans for the days to come. The reality of the quest remains but for now, under the stars, you both allow yourselves the luxury of imagining a life beyond the war. Both of you bound by a newfound affection that promises to grow with each passing day.

At Helm's Deep the air is thick with the tension of impending battle. The great fortress, built into the deep folds of the mountain, stands as the last bastion of hope against the relentless march of Saruman's forces. As the sky darkens and the torches flicker against the night you stand on the ramparts beside Legolas watching the sea of enemies gathering in the distance.

Legolas turns to you, his expression clouded with concern. “You should not be here,” he says softly. His voice barely above the howl of the wind. “This battle... it is not like the ones before. I fear—”

“I know,” you interrupt, understanding his fear but meeting his gaze with a resolve that mirrors the steel of the swords of your comrades below. “I know what this battle could mean for all of us. But I must stand with you, with all of you. There is no other place for me now, Legolas.”

Seeing the determination in your eyes, Legolas's expression softens and he pulls you gently against his side. It was a bold move for him, especially in such a public setting. “Then we will face it together,” he says squeezing your hand tightly as a silent promise passes between you.

The night deepens and the enemy’s drums beat a terrifying rhythm that seems to match the racing of your heart. Legolas pulls you closer. His eyes searching yours in the dim light. “No matter what happens tonight, know this,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the chaos swelling around you. “I love you. I have loved you amidst the shadows of our journey, and I will love you beyond the reaches of time.”

Your breath catches at his words. The simplicity and depth of his confession anchoring you amidst your fears. “And I love you,” you repl. Your voice strong even though you felt so weak. “Whatever may come, whatever we face… we face it together.”

As the battle commences the air fills with the clash of steel and the cries of warriors. You fight back-to-back, Legolas’s arrows finding their marks with deadly precision while you fend off attackers with sword and spell.

Gimli joins two of you, his axe a blur as he protects your flank. “Ha! I’d like to see them try to break this line!” he bellows. His voice a rumble of thunder over the din of battle.

The hours stretch. Each moment a lifetime but you fight with a clarity borne of love and the will to protect not just middle earth but the futures you hope to share. Legolas’s presence is a constant reassurance. His quick glances amidst the fray a reminder of everything worth fighting for.

As dawn breaks the tide of battle shifts. With Gandalf’s timely arrival and the charge of the Rohirrim, a new hope is rekindled. The enemy falters and breaks. Exhausted but alive, you, Legolas, and Gimli regroup, your bodies weary but spirits lifted by the victory, however costly it may have been.

Standing amidst the ruins of the battle you all share a look of relief and unspoken understanding. The war is far from over, but the strength of your bonds, the depth of your love, and the courage of your friends give you the fortitude to press on, to fight another day. With Legolas watch the sunrise, the light washing over Helm’s Deep painting the world in hues of gold and red. A daily rebirth, a reminder that after darkness there always comes a new dawn.

After the long shadow of war finally lifts with the destruction of the One Ring the world begins to breathe again. Minas Tirith stands gleaming under the bright sun, its banners waving in a joyous breeze. The streets are filled with music and laughter as people from all corners of middle earth gather to celebrate the victory. The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers brought forth by a spring that signifies not just the changing of seasons but the dawn of a new era.

You, Legolas, and Gimli stand on a balcony overlooking the jubilant city with a cup of fine wine in hand. The Fellowship has been honored by kings and lords, sung by minstrels, and cheered by crowds. But in this moment, the three of you share a quiet moment that speaks of deeper bonds forged in the fires of your shared trials.

Legolas looks out over the city, his eyes reflecting the green of the fields below. “The world is changed,” he says thoughtfully. “I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air. The darkness that once threatened to swallow us whole is now but a shadow of the past.”

Gimli nods. His eyes twinkling under his bushy brows. “Aye, and it’s time for more pleasant journeys,” he chuckles. “I promised you both a tour of the Glittering Caves, did I not? And I intend to keep that promise. You’ll find no finer sight beneath the mountains, mark my words!”

“And I,” Legolas adds turning to you with a gentle smile, “would have you both come to Mirkwood. The forests have suffered in the darkness. But they recover, much like us. There are places of such beauty and tranquility that they deserve to be witnessed with friends.”

You sip your wine, letting the rich flavors linger on your tongue as you consider the future. “And what of you?” Gimli asks, looking at you with an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

“I think,” you say slowly, smiling at the possibilities that stretch before you, “that I would like to see more of this world that we have fought so hard to save. From the forests of Mirkwood to the caves of the mountains and perhaps even beyond. There’s so much to explore, so much to learn.”

“And so much to rebuild,” Legolas adds. “Wherever we go we carry with us the legacy of those who fought beside us. Those who fell, and those who lived to see this day. Gandalf’s wisdom, Aragorn’s courage, and even Frodo’s quiet determination—they remain with us, guiding us forward.”

Gimli raises his cup, and you and Legolas do the same. “To the future,” Gimli declares heartily.

“To peace,” Legolas adds, his voice warm.

“To friendship,” you conclude. The three of you clink your cups together, the sound crisp and clear.

As the celebration continues below you lean against the stone railing admiring the city sprawling at your feet. Around you the laughter and music rise to the starlit sky, and you feel a profound sense of contentment. The road ahead is uncharted, but you face it not as a lone wanderer but as part of a fellowship that has endured the darkest of times to see the brightest of days.

With Legolas and Gimli by your side you know that whatever adventures lie ahead, they will be filled with joy, discovery, and the unbreakable bonds of friendship. This is not the end of your story but the beginning of a new chapter, one that you will write together.

As the celebrations in Minas Tirith begin to quiet down into a gentle hum of merriment and the evening deepens, Gimli, with a knowing grin and a subtle nod towards Legolas excuses himself to “inspect the integrity of the ale supply,” leaving you two alone on the quieter side of the terrace that overlooks the city’s sprawling, illuminated gardens.

Legolas watches Gimli depart and then turns to you with a serene expression. His eyes reflecting the myriad lights of the city. He reaches into the folds of his tunic and pulls out a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. “I have something for you,” he says. His voice low and filled with a tender emotion that sends a thrill through your heart.

You watch, curious and expectant, as he opens the box to reveal a pendant. It’s a delicate piece, shaped like a leaf but crafted with such intricacy that each vein in the leaf is visible. It shimmered with a light that seems to emanate from within the silver itself.

“This is a leaf from the Mallorn trees of Lothlórien,” Legolas explains as he carefully lifts the pendant from the box. “Galadriel herself gave this to me before we departed and though I cherish it... I believe it was always meant for you.”

He steps closer. His presence so familiar and yet so heart-stirringly profound at this intimate moment. “In the elven tradition,” he continues, his eyes locked onto yours, “to give such a gift is to choose a companion. To offer a token of one’s heart and soul. I give this to you not out of obligation but from a free and willing heart. I choose you and it’s you I wish to be with through all the ages of this world.”

He pauses while holding the pendant up between you. His eyes searching yours for an answer, a confirmation of your feelings. You nod gently, overwhelmed by the emotion in his gaze and the significance of his gift.

Legolas smiles, a soft, joyous curve of his lips, and delicately clasps the pendant around your neck. His fingers brush lightly against your skin as he secures the clasp sending shivers down your spine. The metal feels warm as if charged with his affection and presence.

“I cannot promise that the road ahead will be free from hardship,” Legolas says softly while drawing you close so that your foreheads touch lightly, “but I can promise that you will never walk it alone. Where you go I will follow. And where I go I hope you will be by my side.”

“Legolas,” you whisper. Your voice thick with emotion. “There is no one else I would rather have by my side. No one else I would want to share my path with. I choose you, too, today, and always.”

Without hesitation Legolas leans in to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s gentle at first. A tender meeting that speaks of mutual respect and deep affection. But as you respond the kiss deepens, becoming a profound expression of your shared love and commitment.

The world around you—the city of Minas Tirith, the sounds of celebration—fades into a blissful quiet. In this moment wrapped in Legolas’s embrace, you realize that while the war might have brought you together it is love that will lead you into your future. Beneath the stars and above the glowing city you share a promise of a thousand sunrises to come. Each one a new day to explore and cherish the world together.

Taglist Sign Up: @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[apocalyp-tech-a]

Remember in Season 1, Episode 1 Aftermath, Tech says "I am merely stating a theoretical hypothesis based on factual data?" Well, that's what I did, I made a "logical conclusion." From Lama Su coming back when we thought he was dead to the infamous "domicile," it was all factual evidence that was meant to push us in a direction of hoping that Tech would return and that CX-2 could be the way he does it. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. There's an underlying reason that I love Tech not based on just his handsome looks. I don't claim to have an exceptional mind like him and I don't intend to convince anyone that CX-2 was Tech, but I do want to explain how it could be construed through the way that character was presented as well as the possibility of Tech's return in general, that he could have been and none of us were wrong or "losers" to think so.

45 70 Reasons and more well on the way, lol...

General reasons:

*Tech is never seen actually dying.

*Hemlock being untrustworthy source of death certificate.

*The return of many thought to be dead characters in past Star Wars from Darth Maul who was sliced in half to Lama Su - the door closed on him and we thought he was getting shot by troopers only to show up alive later and this happened in The Bad Batch itself.

*CX-2 is shown walking toward the 'light' after dropping off Omega, symbolically toward a future redemption. @astrovoidy

*Height change on starwars.com

*The word 'dead' danced around on official sites and by BB employees

*the similarities to Winter soldier @on-a-quest

*the cryptic tweets that showcased reborn characters like Gandalf

*The official poster of CX-2 shows him in 'good' light. @eriexplosion AND CX-2 is shown looking up and to the side the way the original CF99 members are positioned and facing in their poster as if CX-2 is also a CF99 member

*other people in professional settings like New Rock Stars on youtube thought the same exact thing as well as casual viewers

*the large focus on CX-2, over multiple episodes

*misleading title of last episode "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

*Tech being smart enough to find a solution

*If Season 2 could be compared to Empire Strikes Back, Tech was taken from us the way Han Solo was, but Han Solo was returned so surely Tech would be as well

*no one expected a main ensemble character permadeath

*the fight with Crosshair music had hints of "Plan 99" in it

*Tech’s whole big conversation with Romar was about culture and memory, and he helped Romar restoring a data repository. Between the implication that Tech would have lost his memories and Phee saying, “Tech’s brain was the databank, not mine,” you could easily see that as foreshadowing for Tech getting his memories back. @heyclickadee

*All the little one line reminders and goggles shots up through episode twelve only serve to make the audience want Tech back. They aren’t closure, they’re reminders of his absence. [Tech never being quite mourned.] @heyclickadee

*The goggles are lit, or look like they’re lit, in every scene they’re in except the last one, which sure makes all those earlier shots deliberate. @heyclickadee *CX-2 could have killed all of them at different moments, but chose not to (shooting pilot instead of Hunter for example)

Physical and character similarities:

*the shrimp posture

*the kick in the fight similar to droid kick in S1E1

*the similar hand to hand combat style

*the shooting accuracy- ipsium cave/ plan 99

*the elegant deliberate movement especially of hands and fingers

*the animated head and body when speaking

*the helmet – even has his hairline @jorolle

*the viewfinder similar to Tech's and utilized just as often

*the pouches(!!!)

*the limberness and agility

*the confident capability

*the crouching/getting on one knee - Tech is an infamous croucher!

*the deviant nature – ignoring orders

*the technology know how

*the flying – some say the turn on Teth was a Tech Turn

*the extraness of tool/weapon twirl

*armpad like Tech's datapad @wolveria

*CX-2's ship has similarities to the Marauder @wolveria

*Tech CC-9902 / CX-2 - both end in 2 @wolveria

*We are reminded this season that Tech was especially good at decryption. What do we see CX-2 doing on Phee’s ship? Yeah. @heyclickadee

*Season two went out of its way to establish that Tech has a high pain tolerance, is a good close range fighter (he won a life-or-death fight with a guy when he had that broken femur), quick processing speed, and is an excellent shot. All skills we see CX-2 exhibit. @heyclickadee

The 'British' accent, speech inflection, pronunciation. and vocabulary (this alone is enough to convince anyone...):

'You better get back HERE." - "I know the girl is HERE."

"The fifth IS Omega." - "The girl IS alive."

"Who are you?" - "Who are you?"

"Naveecomputah." - "Neveecomputah."

"DOMICILE." - "DOMICLE."

Cinematic framing similarities:

*the limping

*the coming out of the water @lilacjunimo

*hooking the rappel hook rappelling down was like dangling off the rail car

*the boulder moving

*helmet viewpoint from CX-2 in finale, only BB members ever had that

Conjectural situations of suspicion:

*the beef with Crosshair

*the constant surviving

*the pausing when choking Crosshair

*the pausing to look at Phee

*The implications that Crosshair seems to know something about CX-2 (he wants to get out of dodge when he knows CX-2 is coming), and the intense lingering guilt Crosshair feels—and which is never dealt with! It’s still there through the finale—implying he knows or suspects it’s Tech. @heyclickadee

*“Whatever they did to you, whatever you’ve done, you’re still one of us,” offered by Rex towards the CXs @heyclickadee

*Crosshair’s character arc this season being partly about realizing that anyone can change and that no one is really beyond saving, which would have continued going somewhere if he thought CX-2 was Tech and considered him beyond saving, but then changed his mind and realized he needed to try. Notice that he does not engage CX-2 in 11 like he did in 7, and that this comes after his revelation about giving people a chance in 9. @heyclickadee

*CX-2 is even more Tech like in 11 than he was in 6 and 7. This implies that he could be starting to wake up, and that almost killing Crosshair triggered that. He doesn’t kill anyone except one of his own guys on Pabu (or Phee) even though it would make his job much easier. He even has Hunter and Wrecker in his sights and moves his aim to not shoot them directly. @heyclickadee

*Crosshair has no way to know that the CX’d clones come out different and that their identities are erased unless it happened to someone we know. In fact, there’s not reason for the CX plot to exist unless that horrific thing happens to someone we know. @heyclickadee

*The first episode of the show starts out with Hunter covering for someone who supposedly died in a fall. In fact, there are direct parallels in the lines: “Where’s the Jedi?” “I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.” vs “Where’s Tech?” “Omega…Tech didn’t make it.” I’m not saying Hunter was covering for Tech; I am saying that is the only place in the script where we see those phrases matched up. @heyclickadee

*Tech being CX-2 would have fit in perfectly with each member of the batch experiencing a traumatic loss (and regaining) of agency that correlated directly to who and how they are as people. @heyclickadee

Foreshadowing lines:

*More machine than man, percentage wise at least.

*Better late than dead.

*See you around, Brown Eyes.

*Tech's not gone.

*The operative's gone rogue.

*Romar saying he's a survivor and Tech's look at him.

*Don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers. @heyclickadee

Abandoned storyline reasons:

*The romance with Phee, surely it wouldn't be abandoned!? 🙄😡

*CX-2's death being anticlimactic

*The finale seeming rushed and incomplete

*Actors saying there were script changes

*CX-2's accent in the finale was not only not like Tech's as it was in previous episodes, it wasn't even a clone accent (wtf was that) signaling a script change

@wolveria made a great analysis here with her Tech-Genda !

@heyclickadee gave a great analysis here and also great evidence, more in comments!

@vivaislenska has a list as well with some of these points!

@eriexplosion has a great analysis here!

Having said that, here are some reasons it may not have been him:

*Too many characters coming back from the dead.

*The way he says 'clones' in Infiltration was more reg accent.

*Tech's line in the cave to Omega which "was a big one to me” in retrospect: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on."

As for the intentions of the writers to either have been forced to change the script, but can't admit it due to NDAs or if they truly meant for CX-2 to be Crosshair's foil which to me was unclear, especially with all of the evidence above, I don't know. At least they could have made CX-2 talk and move like a reg. Making him talk and walk like Tech was kind of cruel on top of a cruel we already experienced in Plan 99. I am not personally attacking the writers, I still love Season 1 and 2 and most of Season 3, but I wish I knew what happened behind the scenes with this and I know I'm not the only one. I think this is the last time I'll personally address Season 3 or the finale unless to support other commentators/creators and for my own fix-it and art and writing. And I look forward to seeing everyone else's works as well and hope no one gives up this beautiful Batch or fandom as I almost did. Canon seems done with him, he belongs to us now. 💜

And if anyone has anything I missed (I'm sure I'll think of more myself), feel free to comment or reblog with that addition or a link to your own post and/or I can edit the OP to include it and tag you. Also, don't feel like you can't make your own post about this subject! But I do hope this maybe helped anyone still dealing with the 'aftermath' like me, to know you're not alone, and you did not read too much into it.

(In retrospect, I can't believe they killed him though, lol. What the kriff were they thinking!?! #too handsome to die #too awesome to die)

[edges-of-night]

Pippin Took falling in love with you would include...

✧ “accidentally” getting you involved in shenanigans

✧ stargazing on his favourite meadow in the Shire, side by side, but finding he only has eyes for you

✧ not a single night at the Green Dragon where he doesn’t invite you to sing and dance with him ♡

✧ racing with you through strawberry fields in Spring and pumpkin fields in Autumn until you’re both out of breath

✧ coming over to your place every day to have Second Breakfast together

✧ a heightened interest in games that involve kissing and touching

✧ a deep need to impress you, no matter if that means embarrassing himself three times at first

✧ like saying, “Allow me…” with a broad chest, only to fall flat onto his face

✧ secret picnics in sunflower fields

✧ him being overly protective of you – especially in the Green Dragon, when ruffians get too close to you

✧ baking and cooking with you, although he is much more preoccupied with stealing snacks you meant to prepare – and flour fights!

✧ making flower crowns for you: “You like these? I made sure to put ‘em in there, ‘cause they really bring out your eyes!”

✧ sharing a scarf with you during Winter and an umbrella during Summer

✧ always comforting you with silly jokes and heartfelt hugs or cuddles, should you be in need of a pick-me-up

✧ staying at your place and offering to make himself useful: you tidy up together, do the washing up, and bringing snacks

✧ preparing fruits and cheese before you come home

✧ pillow fights!

✧ asking Merry for advice on how to ask you out

✧ asking Gandalf for a special firework in your favourite colours

✧ no big declaration of love – though it would have been the proper way – one day, Pippin will simply introduce you as his partner

I’ve received a couple of fluffy Pippin requests, so I’ve sat down and thought of a few scenarios. Thank you for reading & have a great week, everyone!

[atlantablack]

Okay okay, if you're up for it, for the micro story ask, what about "don't leave"?

I feel like the real challenge here is - can I keep this micro - brevity is not my friend but let's see

Bilbo is already half-way to Dale -- his pack heavy on his back, Gandalf a steady presence at his side -- when he hears the sound of hooves behind them.

When he turns, worried that something has managed to go wrong in the hours since they left Erebor, he finds Thorin barreling towards him on a pony, closely followed by Dwalin, Kili, & Fili.

All he can really do is stare, open mouthed, as the group speeds toward him. What could have possibly happened? A traitorous part of his heart whispers, he's come to ask you to stay, but he knows that's a lie. He'd been in Erebor for an entire season and Thorin had never once given him any indication that he wanted Bilbo to stay past the winter.

Bilbo knows it's a lie and so it makes no sense to him at all when Thorin swings himself off of the pony, strides forward, and the first words to come out of his mouth are, "Don't leave. Amrâlimê. I do not have the right to ask this of you but do not leave."

Thorin's eyes are very blue and Bilbo's heart is beating very loud. He dimly recognizes that his walking stick has slipped from his fingers but it seems rather unimportant in the face of Thorin's earnest words.

"I don't understand," he says, clinging to his composure by his fingertips. "Why would I stay?" What he doesn't say is, how could I not, when it's you asking, how could I not?

Thorin flinches but resolutely takes another step forward to grab his hand. Bilbo lets him, unwilling to deny Thorin anything even now.

"I do not have the right but I will ask regardless," Thorin says so quietly his words are in danger of being whipped away by the wind. "I would ask that you stay by my side so that I may court you. So that I would not have to know the bleakness of days spent without you by my side."

Bilbo stares. And stares. Oh, he thinks, wondering if this is what it feels like to fall in love all over again. It's a rock slide and a flood. It's the anxious twist of Thorin's mouth, the way the midday sun hits the blue of Thorin's eyes and leaves them dazzling.

"Oh," he says out loud. And then again. A wet sounding laugh bubbles up and out of his mouth. "Oh, of course you stupid, stupid dwarf. All you had to do was ask me."

Fili and Kili break out into cheers but Bilbo doesn't have eyes for anyone except Thorin and the smile that breaks across his face. When Thorin kisses him it's a thousand shades of summer and fresh spring rain, which is to say, it's home.

[live-laugh-legolas]

What are the fellowship's favorite fall activities?

The fellowship’s favorite fall activities

Aragorn:

-This man loves a good bonfire

-He’s so proud of it too

-Does that dad thing of standing back to admire it with his hands on his hips

-He doesn’t like s’mores much but he teaches everyone how to toast the perfect marshmallow

-He loves roasted pumpkin seeds

-He would love a good hayride too

-He would enjoy helping Sam in the kitchen; and by helping I mean kind of being in the way and just doing what he is told

Legolas:

-He attends every farmers market and craft fair

-Ik these pop up all year really but I always see them most in fall

-Also not really an activity but he is constantly smelling the air

-Like you know when you first walk out the door and the cool air just carries the scent of the leaves?

-*sniff sniff*

-Not a fan of scented candles though

Gimli:

-Flannels

-This isn’t really an activity but he is always pumped to go full lumberjack aesthetic

-Will chop all the wood for Aragorns bonfires

-He refuses to go apple picking; Legolas made fun of him too much for not being able to reach

-Does love going to a pumpkin patch and picking the biggest pumpkin

-*slaps pumpkins as he walks by to “test the structural integrity”*

Boromir:

-First in line to get a pumpkin spice latte

-And he gets his Uggs out

-Man loves his comfort

-I imagine he has fond memories of going on a trail ride with Faramir

-It’s the perfect weather to take the horses out and it’s a beautiful view

Frodo:

-I think he likes horror films

-Like he will watch them anytime but in the fall he can convince his friends to watch too

-He isn’t scared by them; he hopes he will be but usually it’s too predictable

-He does not watch these films for a few years after coming home from the journey

-Chugs apple cider

-He would have those sticky gel window decor things that change with every season/holiday

Sam:

-He loves to be able to bake all the autumnal dishes

-Spice cake and pumpkin pie are chefs kiss in his mind

-He doesn’t care much about Halloween; instead he spends October preparing for Thanksgiving

-He also won’t admit it but that he enjoys when his friends mess up his leaf piles

-Like he will rake it up into a huge mountain of leaves just for Pippin to jump out of the nearby tree into the pile (btw leaves do not break your fall much. You will hit the ground)

Merry:

-This boy has the Halloween decorations out the second he steps on a crunchy leaf

-Fake spiderwebs EVERYWHERE (never puts them up after the events of lotr for Sam and Frodos sake)

-He also feeds the wildlife so they will be ready for winter (You’re not supposed to do this)

-He has fed a bear and was just casually friends with it (do not do this. I repeat, do not do this)

-Spooky season is very important to him and he takes it very seriously

Pippin:

-He carves pumpkins religiously every year

-Makes the pumpkin helmet

-And gives the innards to Sam so he can bake with them

-If he didn’t munch on it all while carving

-He loves jump in and/or run through leaf piles; but he won’t rake them himself because where is the fun in that?

Gandalf:

-He maybe doesn’t particularly enjoy this but he doesn’t dislike it initially

-But he finds himself in a corner maze

-The hobbits convinced him to go with them but he lost them about 10 minutes in

-He has been in the maze for 3 hours now and is no longer having a good time

-Grumbling and swearing at every dead end

-The hobbits better hide by the time he finds his way out (there is nowhere to hide; he will find them)

[a-loverspoetry]

Book Thranduil and elves in a nutshell (more or less):

————- Mirkwood

Mirkwood: *party noises* Utz utz Utz

Thranduil: sooo since is autumn I’m wearing this really pretty crown with yellow leaves and berries and—

Elves: My King! These dwarfs interupted our party three times already!

Thranduil: oh Common... - What are you doing here?

Thorin: starving in the woods.

Thranduil: you gonna tell me what you will to do next?

Thorin: no? F*ck you..

Thranduil: okay.. will wait for an answer then. In the dungeon with you!! Also here some food and drinks

————- some weeks later, Thorin and gang escape

Mirkwood: *party noises and drunk elves* Utz utz Utz

Elves: *singing some songs* those barrels are kinda heavy...well as long we have enough wine for the king

————- 2 days or so later (Smaug’s dead), marching to the lonely mountain

Thranduil: the birds and trees are talking to meeeee. Smaugs dead, people. Let’s bounce and get some jeeeeeewels. Also bad vibes about Thorin.. is it winter? I think I need my winter crown

Bard: yo heard you were actually kind and good people..? Can you help getting us some food?

Thranduil: okay.. we’ll take the long route and help

————- lonely mountain

Elves: *party noises* Utz Utz Utz

Bard: yo give us some gold!

Thorin: no! F*ck off!

Bilbo: okay Ill take that arkenstone and bounce

————- elven and human camp

Bilbo: *gets some elvish armour from the elves* here the arkenstone!

Thranduil: oh pretty Stone!!! you earned yourself that armour more then some elf prince. Even though he would look better in it

Bilbo: thanks?

Bard: WE WILL MARCH AT DAWN

————- war Part 1 - no Deal

Bard: they don’t want to make a deal! F*ck them!

Thorin: yeah let’s fight!!

Thranduil: children children.. it’s just gold. We don’t have to kill each other for that..

…

Elves: my king! The dwarfs keep attacking us! Do we defend????

————- war Part 2 - the orcs are coming, the moment the elves see them

Thranduil: excuse me?? Do my elven eyes see FILTHY. DISGUSTING. HATEFUL. orcs?? Unacceptable!! *stabbing noises*

————- war Part 3 - at Thorins Grave

Thranduil: here is your sword. Bye

————- going home with Gandalf and Bilbo

Elves: *party noises* Utz Utz Utz

Bilbo: soo here is a pretty necklace

Thranduil: for what?

Bilbo: I stole lots of wine and bread from you while the dwarfs were in jail

Thranduil: oh cool! Thanks Bilbo the great! But dare you to steal again from me... Bye Gandalf come visit us sometime!

Mirkwood: *party noises* Utz utz Utz

————-

Party King Thranduil out here, having a feast with his buds and being constantly interrupted. Just let this man talk to his trees and wear some pretty jewels!

[raointean]

Alright! Time to dissect the season 2 trailer!

Under a cut due to speculative maybe-spoilers, and because this is going to get loooong! Enjoy! (Please. I spent way too long making this)

I apologize for the quality of the pictures. I did my best to clean them up, but that trailer was very blurry, and I'm not exactly a tech wizard 🙃

So, we start off with a shot of Halbrand on a horse through a metal gate/drawbridge thing granting him entry into a city (Probably Ost-in-Edhil, based on the color of the guards' armor and the direction of the plot this season). In the background, we hear Galadriel's voice saying, "Sauron sees himself as master of all Middle Earth." Great establishing shot, no notes.

We quickly cut to a shot of two of the elven rings (Nenya and Nilya) falling to the ground in the tree courtyard in Lindon. Notably, we do not see the ruby ring, Narya. In canon, that one was given to Círdan who later gave it to Gandalf, so maybe he's already accepted his by now?

After that, is a shot of Sauron's iconic stabby crown being carried on a platter by an orc, presumably to him in some kind of coronation ceremony. Galadriel continues, saying, "He seeks to rule it, not only through conquest..."

Then we cut to several half-second long shots. Nenya (which will become Galadriel's ring) tumbling down the stairs (seemingly a continuation of the falling rings scene, but from a different angle), Durin III looking up holding an ax in a hand that is also wearing a GIANT blue ring, the new Adar staring at someone or something with a horde of orcs behind him, and Nenya still tumbling down the stairs and finally coming to rest at Galadriel's feet. Through all this, Galadriel is saying, "But by bending the minds of all its people to his own."

We cut to a view of the tree of Lindon surrounded by elves seen through a stone archway, probably still part of the falling Nenya scene. I definitely see Galadriel and Gil-Galad there (and I think Elrond's back) but I don't recognize anyone else.

Then, Galadriel stoops down to pick up the ring and Elrond steps forward and shouts, "No!" Galadriel ignores him and slowly, as if entranced, places the ring on her finger. Throughout all of this, the voiceover continues with, "And for that, he needs not armies, (Elrond: *No!*), but rings."

PRIME LOGO

The logo fades out and we see a shot of the tree of Lindon again (this time in bloom, where before, it was half dead (maybe winter, maybe before they start using the rings?)). I see two guards, five handmaidens, Galadriel, Gil-Galad, and a mysterious silver haired or white-blond elf. It's POSSIBLE that this elf has their hair falling in front of their face, but it looks more like a beard to me (*chanting* Círdan, Círdan, Círdan) I think it's the distribution of the rings.

It then cuts to the famous shot of the three of them in a circle with the rings on their middle fingers, ready to flip Sauron off. Elrond says via voiceover, "In choosing to wear those rings, you have all become his (presumably Sauron's) collaborators."

Then we see that shot of Elrond and Galadriel riding through the forest/plain place on horseback. Then we see two figures (presumably still them) riding up a mountain ridge, and then standing on the edge of a broken bridge on a cliff.

I really still think this is the two of them riding to and discovering the Hidden Valley. Throughout all of these shots, Galadriel is saying, "I know you believe this ring is deceiving me, but I believe... it is guiding me."

Next, there's a brief shot of a snarling orc and then a shot of Halbrand. The Halbrand one is kind of interesting. He's standing in a city at night next to a pitch black horse (because what kind of Dark Lord would he be if he didn't live and die by the ✨️aesthetic✨️), but the interesting part is- I can't tell what city he's in. Given the direction of the plot, I think it's Ost-in-Edhil, but it COULD be Armenelos in Númenor... Through this bit, Elrond is saying, "All this may be by his design."

Next is a shot of someone in a greyish robe/tunic and sandals, wearing a ruby ring, dipping his hand in a pond or a tidepool. Next to him is what I think is a shoe and a dress matching the exact shade that Galadriel wears. The man HAS to be Círdan (I can't think of anyone else it could be) and I think Galadriel is kneeling beside him to talk.

Círdan dips his hand in the water to play with a fish and a man (possibly Círdan himself) says, "These rings may be how he will gain power."

Then there's a bright light surrounded by a circle of people and the light explodes. I... have zero idea what that is.

That cuts to a scene of Galadriel, Elrond, and Gil-Galad alone with two guards having some kind of council. Elrond says "They must be destroyed." (I believe that's in-scene)

Then there's a wider shot of that same scene and Gil-Galad says to Galadriel, "We will discuss the rings once you have answered the question."

Next, it cuts to a scene of Halbrand (Halbrand, mind you. Not Annatar) and Celebrimbor at night during a rainstorm. Halbrand is kneeling and Celebrimbor is hastily shutting the doors behind them. Is Celebrimbor questioning him? Imprisoning him? Hiding him from someone else? Honestly, given Celebrimbor's outfit, I think the Annatar reveal actually comes later on in this scene!

Then we cut back to The Council of Not-Elrond (because no one ever listens to him) where Gil-Galad poses his question. "Who. Is. This. Man?" Galadriel looks up at him looking terrified, resigned, and on the edge of tears, and says "He is no man." *side-eyes Eowyn*

Next we cut to the circle-around badass fighty scene we saw in the teaser (and now we know who two more of those characters are!) and see a glimpse of the Barrow-whights. (Don't know how that's going to work, but whatever, I can roll with it)

Then we see Celebrimbor looking disturbed and confused as the room is lit up by a blaze of fire from the fireplace(?) Galadriel says in a voiceover, "He deceived me. He is Sauron." and we get our first look at smoking hot Annatar, straight out of the furnace!

Seriously, the man is SHOOKETH!

Celebrimbor asks "What am I to call you?" and Annatar replies, "A sharer of gifts." (Y'all, the NOISE I made when he said that-)

Next we cut to a Gwaith-i-mirdan bellowing the furnace (not Mirdania, notably. This lady is brunette, not blonde) and then the workshop during the day with an anvil lowering from the ceiling. Annatar says in the background, "Our work begins now."

Now, onto Rhûn! We see the sunrise/sunset in a desert full of mound-like rock formations and a solitary rider on horseback carrying a tattered flag. Great establishing shot, though I have no idea who the horserider is.

Next, we see two figures (almost certainly Nori and The Stranger) alone in a rocky part of the desert, but what's really interesting about that is that we see them through a blurry, fractured lens. It then cuts to a group of masked horseriders (maybe the earlier one was some kind of scout or messenger?) one of which removes a telescope from their eye (their clothes are super layered, so I can't tell male or female). Nori speaks, saying "I have walked across mountains and desserts."

Then there's a shot of The Stranger moving gravel with magic. I don't know about you, but I don't remember Gandalf of any iteration doing that, so it COULD be pointing to the blue wizard theory.

Next is a face shot of Nori finishing her sentence with, "to help my friend find his destiny." She looks older and less plant-y, which makes sense, given that she's in a desert. She also seems to be in a village and I can see AT LEAST two people in the background so- Yay! Rhûnic culture worldbuilding!

Then we see one of the priestesses with a swarm of moths in some kind of temple. The moth symbolism connected to the witches that connect to The Stranger is also really interesting because I've also always associated moths with Gandalf. I think they're going to do another, much smaller scale, mystery box plot with the "which wizard is it?" game. Nori is also speaking during this scene, and she says, "One the fate of the world may depend on."

Next, we see The Stranger slam a walking stick into the ground and seemingly cause a tornado that nearly blows Nori away. During this he's saying (quite eloquently, now) "Is it my task to stop the fire?"

Then, we see him in a candlelit stone home, presumably Bombadil's, asking, "Is it my task to face Sauron!?" We get a glimpse of Bombadil before the screen cuts away, but it looks like he's taken The Stranger in and he's started interrogating Bombadil.

Then, we get a brief glimpse of Pharazón using the Palantír (probably after he completes his coup) and it shows him fire. That's probably prophesying the Fall of Númenor.

We see a quick glimpse of Annatar staring at something burning (seriously, not even a full half second), before cutting to the balrog going on a rampage. It flies up, creates a flame sword, and takes out a rock thing, though I don't see any definite signs of civilization, so it could be an uninhabited area. Durin IV says "To try and cheat death might lead to an even greater catastrophe."

I think it's FASCINATING that it's Durin IV saying this. Last season, it was his father talking about cheating death, which Durin IV had a very strong reaction to.

Next, we see a close up of Durin III's hand with the massive blue ring and another hand holding it (his own? his son's?). We pull out to see the Durins talking in the throne room and Durin IV says, "Father, take off the ring." If the last bit of dialogue was from the same scene, maybe Durin's using his father's own words to remind him who he is? Anyway, immediately after that request, Durin III backhands his son across the room (*chanwills0 voice* ah! abuse!). I think this could also be showing us that one of the powers of that ring is super strength?

Next, we see a dive-down overhead view of the palace of Armenelos (built JUST like Minas Tirith) with the words "ON AUGUST 29" in gold lettering. Then we see a quick series of images; two gwaith-i-mirdan pouring hot metal into a mold and a giant boulder falling in Khazad-Dûm (probably during a balrog attack).

Then we see Disa speaking to Durin. It looks like it's either in the throne room (unlikely) or their dining room (much more likely) due to a very ornate chair in the background. Disa says, "I'm afraid, Durin." I have no idea what specifically she's talking about because there are SO MANY possible reasons. There's the political tension between Durin III and Durin IV, there's the corrupting effect of the ring, there's the balrog, AND there's the siege of Eregion right outside their doorstep (we'll get to that in a minute).

Next up is a shot of the shore of Nmenor with the words "DARKNESS WILL BIND THEM" in gold lettering. It then zooms in on Miriel walking into the ocean (maybe to commune with that sea monster we saw in the teaser)

Then, we get a view of The Stranger and Bombadil talking in the desert (I'm starting to think he and Nori get separated at some point). Bombadil says, "Every soul in Middle Earth is in peril, will you abandon them to their doom?" Notice! The repeat of the word "Peril"! That was pretty important last season! Also, it looks like they're going with a more serious Tom Bombadil, which I don't love, but maybe he just became more cheerful after meeting Goldberry (or maybe he's on a long journey and is sad because he misses his wife)

They cut to a troll smashing something in a battle (maybe in Ost-in-Edhil) and then we see one of the mirror lights in Khazad-Dûm.

Then, we see a furious (and almost... underfed) Celebrimbor slam something on his desk and whirl around shouting, "No (Oh?), what have you done to me!?" I think we're going to get some DELECTABLE Celebrimbor whump this season, no matter what else happens. Given his fury, what I know of Sauron, and the exact wording of his question, I think there might be some kind of mind control maybe...? Please...?

Immediately after that (and I think that order is important) we get a shot of Ost-in-Edhil on fire and then a shot of Sauron walking through the burning city and only barely being missed by a flaming missile. But who's attacking? Celebrimbor doesn't really have any major enemies... but Sauron does. It's HIGHLY unlikely that Adar is attacking Ost-in-Edhil, so I think it's Lindon and that's the conflict we're getting all those smoking hot Elrond stills from.

Then, we see the new Adar (who doesn't look half-bad, by the way! And, more importantly, he sounds great!) sitting in a throne and saying, "Leave Sauron to me." and it cuts to a shot of him with Sauron's crown, teeth down, in his hands. He stabs it into a redheaded person kneeling before him. A lot of people are saying this is Sauron, but if he is, why is he kneeling? That being said, I have no idea who else it could be.

Next is a quick shot of an elf backlit by an explosion. Several beings in the background are on fire and there are at least five dead bodies in the shot. The elf is shot through with several arrows and, at first glance, I got really excited, thinking we were getting Celebrimbanner. Then I noticed the long hair (definitely not Celebrimbor) and the bow the elf is holding, so I think this is our new OC, Rían.

Then we get a shot of of curly-haired Elrond (yay!) and Galadriel. I think Galadriel says "Caress me, Elrond." and he reaches out to touch her face which I just- Whaaaat? They've been really good about keeping that relationship clearly platonic so far, so I'm going to trust them, but they better not mess that up. Brings "Stacy's Mom" to a whole 'nother level.

Then we get an epic wide battle shot of trebuchets and a charging army, but I can't tell if they're orcs or elves.

Next, we get peak wet-cat Elrond, blood streaming down his face and a thousand-yard-stare to match. I think I also see Aeglos to the side, so maybe Gil-Galad is fighting too? In the background, Galadriel says, "He will not stop until he is destroyed."

Then we cut to a charging horde of orcs and a shot of Adar running at the front of his forces.

After that, we see Bombadil settling his hat on his head.

Next, we see Arondir with his bow half drawn talking to an ent-wyf (YES! WE'RE GETTING ENT-WYVES!!!) who says "Forgiveness takes an age."

Let me pause and repeat that. Forgiveness. Takes. An AGE!!! This is the end of the Second Age, around where the ent-wyves disappeared. We meet Treebeard at the end of the Third Age. Forgiveness! Takes! An! AGE! DO YOU SEE WHAT THEY'RE SAYING HERE!? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry, freakout over now. Anyway-

Next shot is of Elrond speaking to Durin saying, "I need your ax, old friend." Guys! I think the dwarves are going to fight in the siege of Ost-in-Edhil! That would also be a good facilitation of Celebrimbor meeting Narvi. Maybe he's ousted from Ost-in-Edhil for a while, lives as a refugee in Moria, makes the doors of Moria with Narvi, and is recaptured trying to retake his city (and then we get Celebrimbanner... please.)

Then there's a shot of Númenor's harbor, which then cuts to Elendil walking the streets of Armenelos. Interestingly, there are several youngish people behind them holding folded up sea-guard uniforms. I don't know if they're turning them in or receiving them, but both of those options have FASCINATING implications.

Next we see Disa and Narvi side-by-side holding hefty weapons as Durin IV says, "Fight with me!" I think they're trying to raise an army to fight with them at Ost-in-Edhil and Disa and Narvi are there to look intimidating.

Then we get a quick shot of Isildur battling a spider. I think he's going to go through Cirith Ungol trying to escape Mordor and run into Shelob and maybe some of her kids.

Next we get a continuation of the last clip and see Durin giving his rousing speech. "FIGHT! With our friends!" Then it cuts to the crowd listening and it is... very enthusiastically received!

Then, we see the ent-wyf again attacking what is rumored to be Isildur's future bride. (By attack, I mean it looks like she's going to backhand her into oblivion and beyond)

That shot transitions into Galadriel on horseback shooting a bow and making something explode in midair. This is probably also during the siege of Ost-in-Edhil (I have a feeling that's going to take up a major chunk of the season)

Then we see Arondir fighting orcs (maybe near Ithilien?). Notably, he's alone. Bronwyn's not with him (probably because she's super dead) and Theo isn't there either. Did they go their separate ways after Bronwyn's death? Did Arondir try to look after Theo, but you're-not-my-real-dad syndrome got in the way? Either way, Arondir's voicing over in the background, "When the darkness falls, there are always some who rise [inaudible] (forth? for it?)... and shine".

Next, we see Disa watching giant bat-like creatures fly over her head. I... have no clue what that is. Sorry.

Then we get our second-favorite blorbo, Celebrimbor. Very dirty, very disheveled, still looks underfed, and he's dropping some of the rings into the forge fire. I'm not sure, but I think these are the Nine.

Next we see a giant eagle land at the palace in Armenelos and Pharazón approaching it. I don't know what EXACTLY is happening here, but I know that Eagles=Manwë and Manwë does NOT end up liking Pharazón, so it's definitely important.

Next, we see some flaming misiles being launched at Ost-in-Edhil. I wonder what the ethics are here? There are still good people trapped inside the city with Sauron, including it's ruler! You don't want to hurt them on accident!

Again, we see miserable, disheveled looking Celebrimbor holding up a ring and it cuts to Annatar, who says, "You will give me the Nine." This leads me to believe that the ring he's holding is one of the Nine.

Then we see a troll, more fighting, Galadriel ducking under a sword, and then running into a forest attacking orcs, it looks like. Maybe Adar's forces did make it there, maybe Galadriel is somewhere else entirely, or maybe Sauron brought them along with him.

Next, we get our hot Elrond shot of him pulling out his sword dramatically and yelling, "Death to our foes!" in Sindarin(? I think... they've been using a lot of Quenya in the show, so I'm not sure).

AND WE GOT A BADASS CAVALRY CHARGE!!!

Finally, the trailer ends with this screen.

[amagnificentobsession]

Good Morning my Lovlies,

It’s another Saturday, another day that we should sing and rejoice, eat and drink food that is prepared with love.

MET! @the-metatron I said hand me the flour, not flour my butt. 🤦‍♀️👩‍🍳

Time to prepare for Spring, unless you are in Australia 🇦🇺😁

Time to sweep out those cobwebs, both from our homes and our minds. Winter takes its toll, but is just as needed for rebirth as Spring.

@muriel-not-the-dim-one @trans-darbie @angelo-rib-shack @angelo-chuck-wagon @docdust @i-dream-of-sheeny @loretta-dont-you-oppress-me @e-w-w-morningstar @god-in-the-basement @god-wednesday @one-coming-is-enough @sliceocheese @angel-and-the-serpent @pissylittlebirdboy @kleenexwoman @youroneandonlysnakelady @thedemon-crowley @violet-yimlat @avis-morningstar @gandalf-big-oos @furfurs-fotos

As always my husband, and Madam. @the-metatron @dream-of-pain ♥️

It’s a cloudy, sweater day here at my home. Still the heaters are at the ready, blankets draped for cover and snuggling. I’m so excited to see you all!

[thotinshield]

Frozen Heart

Is this entirely based off the first song in Frozen? ....Yes.

Something that Bilbo had gathered about Erebor within his first moments in the mountain was that it was cold. That wasn't unexpected. Gandalf had told him that Erebor was caught up in a state of eternal winter and that even if it were the height of summer in the lands that bordered the mountain, it did not matter. The peaks of the mountain touted a large amount of snow and there seemed to be, according to the wizard, a near constant gale storm. He had seen that when approaching the mountain, had felt the sudden change the land made when it shifted into winter, and as they had grown ever closer to the kingdom, the temperature had dropped.

It was much the same within.

Bilbo had expected to meet the king upon entering the mountain, but instead, he had been escorted towards what the dwarves called a lift. It was meant to bring them to the king, so he had been told by the strange dwarf, Bofur, that operated the lift for them. Well, for Bilbo and himself. Gandalf had reported when they had reached the mountain that he had business to tend to first, and that Bilbo would be able to meet with the king without Gandalf's presence being a necessity. Wonderful.

Had Bilbo not been dressed to fight off the cold, the chilling temperatures within the mountain might have gotten to him much quicker. Instead, as the lift moved he felt the air around them drop in temperature further. And... it seemed as though they were ascending, rather than descending, as Bilbo might have predicted.

In fact...

He felt it better to voice his thoughts. "Pardon me, but are we going up?"

"Aye," Bofur seemed to be working some sort of puller and level system, but that was where the extend of Bilbo's knowledge stymied. "The king... prefers it up here."

"Right..." Bilbo frowned, glancing upwards. The frigid air at least explained why the dwarves that moved across the upper floors were bundled up as they were. "Why do I need to meet with the king?"

Blast Gandalf and his apparent inability to provide Bilbo with all the facts.

"You want to investigate what's going on here, you have to be accepted into Erebor first. And the only person that can approve your presence here is the king. You just have to appeal to him." Bofur paused, and Bilbo did not miss the slight grimace upon his face. "Though I'll admit I'd be surprised if you do."

"And what happens if I don't?"

"Then you'll get to leave." Bofur said.

The lift made a metallic sound as it clicked into place at the top floor. Bilbo watched as the dwarf moved, fiddling with something before the gate that kept them from stepping onto the platform and floor swung open. Bofur helped him off and Bilbo glanced down the long, lonely hall. Up here, there were no dwarves meandering.

He could not blame them.

The frigid air up here almost hurt. When Bilbo breathed out, he watched as his breath puffed out in a cloud, spiraling upwards. It reminded him too much of the Fell Winter, the one time the Shire had faced a winter far too cold for their people or the land to handle. As he moved down the hall, Bilbo noted that the floor was just as cold. That wasn't surprising, as everything here seemed to be crafted from stone or metal - but the fact that he could feel it through his feet was concerning. Hobbits had thick skin on their feet and could walk through snow or over ice without much trouble or notice of the cold. Here, though... it felt sharp as he moved.

Bofur paused at a door, turning to Bilbo. "Just through here."

"Oh. Right." Bilbo drew in a breath, grimacing at the icy feeling before he pushed the doors open. They opened on another long hall - but Bilbo could tell this wasn't any hall. It had to be the throne room. He glanced back towards Bofur.

"I'll be right here," the dwarf supplied.

"You're not... coming with?"

Bofur was quiet for a moment before he smiled. "I'll be right here." His eyes were not unkind, nor was his smile, but the fact that he was not moving told Bilbo enough. He wasn't willing to tread into the throne room. That did not sit well with Bilbo, but if he wanted to do the task that Gandalf said Yavanna had recruited him for... then he had to meet with the king.

The throne room was very long, so perhaps throne hall was a more appropriate name. Regardless, Bilbo walked quietly down the long aisle towards the throne. He expected to find the king sitting there, just waiting, but the throne, as he came close enough to see it, was vacant. Bilbo's stomach flipped uncomfortably. He wondered if there were some vile trick at hand, if he was being made fun of, but as his eyes took in the rest of the throne room, he came to an awkward, sudden halt.

A dwarf stood off to the right of the throne, turned slightly away from Bilbo as he studied something. The hobbit could not see it from here, but that didn't really matter. His focus was on the dwarf before him. He was dressed in finery that could have only been for a king, dark black robes that flowed off of him in a poetic way. Most of the king was dark, except for his hair. That was stark white, cascading down his shoulders much like the snowfall that ravaged the mountain. He stood still, much like he was... frozen, himself. Almost as if he were a statue.

Bilbo might have believed that.

"Ah.. excuse me, your majesty?"

There came no response. Not even a twitch from the dwarf, like he had not heard Bilbo at all. Maybe he was a statue. Still, Bilbo plowed on.

"My name is Bilbo. Baggins. I'm a hobbit, from the Shire... and the lady Yavanna has requested my aid in... assisting your kingdom." There. That put it nice enough, didn't it? Bilbo would hate to imply that he could fix a kingdom's problem like that, much less that it had any issues, if the king were in some sort of denial.

It was then that the figure moved. But Bilbo would not have attributed his movements to something quite alive - the dwarf moved in a way that seemed almost as if he did not know how to move or... like he was moving joints and muscles that were half-frozen. Each movement was nearly mechanic as he turned towards Bilbo. His eyes startled Bilbo more than anything else, a bright color that almost hurt to look at, more like ice than any color Bilbo had seen. His eyes were slow as they searched over Bilbo's face and figure.

Bilbo half-expected him to speak just as slowly, but his gruff voice was silky smooth when it met the hobbit's ears. "Have you now?"

"Y-yes," Bilbo said, straightening up. "Gandalf, um, he's a wizard? Well, he brought me her because the Green Lady is worried about Erebor. About her husband's lands."

"Hm," the dwarf moved slowly towards the throne and Bilbo was quick to move out of his way. The air around the dwarf felt even colder, somehow, but Bilbo was more caught off guard by his appearance that he didn't notice it. "Tharkûn mettles where he needs not to, but if my Maker's lady-wife wishes to send one of her..." he paused, again his eyes passing over Bilbo. "...fae to help, I will not deny her."

Bilbo wasn't quite sure how to take being called fae but he could shoulder that, because what it sounded like to him was that the king had very simply approved his presence and his help within Erebor. This was a good start, even if he didn't feel quite like it.

He watched as the king sat in his throne. Then he was quick to bow before the king. "Then I will pledge my assistance to you, King Under the Mountain."

As he rose back to his feet, Bilbo caught sight of what the king had been looking at when he had entered the throne room. There was a small pedestal with a glass case set upon it, and within that, a brilliant stone, unlike any Bilbo had ever seen or even read about. It seemed to reflect the light and a myriad of colors, and he thought it might have been shimmering. That was what had caught his eye, when the light hit it just right and it shone and shimmered. Well, Bilbo couldn't blame the king for being distracted by whatever it was.

[beckyh2112]

Chat Snippets, part 6

I think I'm all caught up now, thankfully.

[Bex]: Shoot him, SF dude! Shoot him while he monologues! [Rin]: DBZ RULES, BECCA. TALKING IS A FREE ACTION.

[Bex]: I kind of love the trope of Bofur and/or Thorin trying to court Bilbo in the dwarven way, and him just being oblivious. [Kat]: Heeee! Yes. Until Balin slides into the frame and translates. [Bex]: Yes. [Bex]: Thorin: *offers to braid Bilbo's hair* Bilbo: *actually, I really need to get it cut, I've let it get too long* Thorin: D: D: D: *dejected puppy* Bilbo: … *what?* [Kat]: LOL [Bex]: Thorin: *he'd rather cut his hair than let me touch it, I haven't been rejected that hard in decades* [Kat]: And Bilbo's just all "man, it's getting in my face."

[Bex]: http://protowilson.deviantart.com/art/Christmas-Pyro-Style-342453578 [Sam]: Stars are MADE of fire. [Scott]: And they also sit on the top of trees, because this is all about authenticity [Ra]: one of those nights. [Liona]: I don't know about you, but every winter in Canada we climb the northern lights up into the cosmos to pick stars to bring home and put on our trees.

[Bex]: And here, Lex is using his robots to punch Superman. [Rin]: let's all be honest, how many DECADES of advancements in the field of robotics in the DC'verse exist solely because Lex Luthor wanted ones that could punch Superman?

[Bex]: HAZE. [Bex]: HAZE THERE ARE NINE SAILOR SENSHI. [Haze]: huh what [Haze]: yes [Haze]: nine planets [Haze]: nine sailors [Bex]: NINE TF2 CLASSES [Haze]: ... [Haze]: WELP

[Charles]: I have been watching 70s Who's Frontier In Space. it warns us of a nightmarish dystopia, where all buildings will look like 70s-modern concrete ones! [Charles]: oh, and war and stuff

[Bex]: http://bossymarmalade.dreamwidth.org/492768.html -- This seems quite cool. [Kep]: Quicksilver = awesome [Kep]: OMG! Vanessa Williams as Emma Frost? HELL YES! [Kep]: HELL to the YES! [Kep]: Yes, to the power of Hell.

[Bex]: As Pyramid Head thrusts his sword repeatedly into the small space where the two women are hiding. [Tai]: WHAT DO YOU MEAN "FREUDIAN SYMBOLISM" I DON'T UNDERSTAND

[Pux]: There is probably also an element of the fact that she knows Olorin and Curunir far better than pretty much anybody else left in Middle Earth, having potentially known them back in Valinor (and most of the other remaining Noldor to have had the opportunity to do so having either left already, died, or been born in Middle-Earth like Elrond was), so she knows that Olorin/Gandalf is probably wiser and thus more trustworthy of testimony than Curunir/Saruman (the former having apprenticed under the Vala of Mercy and Wisdom, the latter under the Vala of the Forge, to say nothing of Olorin's overly modest and humble tendencies and Curunir's overlarge ego meaning Olorin is more likely to fail to bring up something relevant than to bring up something incorrect and Curunir is likely to dismiss something relevant if he isn't involved). …..words? [Bex]: Galadriel might have known Gandalf and Saruman back when they were angels. [Pux]: Thank you.

[Bex]: I have the best plasmid in Rapture. [Ra]: beeees? [Ra]: :D [Bex]: BEES! [Ra]: /BROFIST

[Bex]: Silent Hill's tendency for gaping holes instead of streets speaks of a need for a better highway dept. [Pux]: Or tax revenue to be shunted to the roads. [Bex]: Yes. [Pux]: Somehow, I doubt the creepy cultists pay taxes. [Bex]: They are terrible citizens. [Pux]: Yes. [Pux]: They steal gods from the Aztecs, they don't pay their taxes, they steal little girls….

[Bex]: As an aside, if you ever ask me to come get you from Silent Hill, I'm not going to. [Charles]: no, that's fair [Pux]: If I ask you to come get me from Silent Hill, I deserve what I get for being there.

[Charles]: speaking of, I like the World War Z trailer where, thanks to fast zombies, it's hard to tell who are the zombies and who are the people running from zombies [Charles]: once I noticed that very few of the extras look scared, it seemed like the zombie outbreak happened during a marathon and that's why nobody noticed for so long

[Charles]: one of our heroes is a vampire who is out for redemption over those murders he did [Charles]: except he did his last one a fortnight ago [Bex]: … you need to work on that not-murdering people thing. [Charles]: that's what the other characters said [Charles]: in slightly angrier terms

[Bex]: "Something dangerous is going on, and I'm going to regret getting involved in it." There's still time to back out, Jay. [Kep]: ….he actually said that? [Bex]: He actually said that. [Kep]: Dumbass walking! People, dumbass walking!

[Haze]: Clearly, Perceptor talks Springer into playing Strip DnD. [Haze]: Or something. [Ra]: ….strip….DnD…. [Ravyn]: yar. [Ra]: ….. [Liona]: I ROLL TO KEEP ON MY PANTS. [Haze]: MEANWHILE, I DO NOT BOTHER TO ROLL, FOR PANTS ARE A RESTRICTIVE TOOL OF THE MAN

[Bex]: …. you are in Silent Hill and you've found a bloody dagger with a pomegranate design on its hilt. [Pux]: …. [Pux]: GET RID OF IT [Pux]: BURN IT [Pux]: DESTROY IT [Pux]: CAST IT INTO THE FIRES OF MOUNT DOOM

[Bex]: So when all the horrible lights and alarms go off, are we surprised the alien goes to the one quiet place left on the ship? [Charles]: nah [Charles]: should we also be surprised it leaps on people when they drop in front of it in ducts? [Bex]: Nope. [Charles]: we don't know it's being hostile there [Charles]: it could be going "OH SHIT!!!" [Bex]: Yes. [Bex]: Especially since the man is carrying a flamethrower. [Charles]: it DOES scream

[Bex]: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7vyp1RvTN1qes8iso1_r1_500.png -- Apparently, "one of the chracters goes crazy/mind-controlled/whatever" is story-nip for me. [Pux]: I am shocked. [Pux]: SHOCKED. [Pux]: There is gambling in this establishment.

[Bex]: You are holding your beatstick the wrong way, police-lady! [Rin]: this is the FUTURE, Becca, you are thinking of the antiquated form of nightstick-fighting where you can actually hit people effectively

[Charles]: I think the only way to avoid "Ming the Merciless is kinda racist isn't he?" issues is to cast a Chinese dude and have him act as a standard villain and just bull ahead with grim abandon [Charles]: "HE JUST IS CHINESE ALRIGHT" [Charles]: "You never bitch about the nutjob scientist with the Germanic name!" [Bex]: They should make Buck Rogers Chinese too. (Or is it Flash Gordon? Whichever one it is.) [Charles]: Flash Gordon [Charles]: or Dale Arden [Charles]: (the Woman) [Charles]: (I joke, there were two women) [Bex]: Ming's daughter! [Charles]: Yes! [Charles]: it's strange, but despite her being all Evil Sex All The Time in the strips, serials, and film, she's totally not like that in the kid cartoons [Charles]: I wonder why [Bex]: *snickers* [Bex]: Anyways. [Bex]: Make everyone Chinese. [Charles]: fuck, make the whole of Mongo's humans Chinese [Charles]: THEY ALL LOOK LIKE THAT JUST COS [Charles]: and when someone questions it, Flash goes "bitch, there are lion-men and fat British guys with bird wings here"

[Liona]: Well, there was a Rubix cube cartoon. :V [Sam]: There was not. [Ra]: There was. [Sam]: I refuse to believe that, even if it is true.

(re: "The Night Land") [Spyri]: There are good parts and I slow down, and then there are 'I ate pills. I slept. I walked for 40-goddamn-hours and ate MORE pills.'

[Bex]: http://i205.photobucket.com/albums/bb49/mervin_storage/new%20moon%20macros/geode1.png -- I want this chair. So I can sit in it. And be evil. [Neld]: That is a magnificent chair to be evil in. [Neld]: In fact, I think just by sitting in it, you become 50% more evil. [Neld]: If Voldemort sat in that chair, he would probably be unstoppable.

[Pux]: Why anyone would build near Silent Hill…. [Bex]: They apparently originally came from Silent Hill. [Pux]: ….. [Pux]: WHY WOULD THEY NOT BUILD ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE PLANET

[Scott]: …they seriously promoted Battleship by saying "From Hasbro, the people that brought you TRANSFORMERS" [Bex]: Yep! [Scott]: I want to see them promote a Furby movie the same way. [Scott]: Including those same sound effects. [Scott]: BWAAAAAHM [Bex]: Bwaaaaahm [Luna]: Promote My Little Pony: A Real America Stallion like that. [Ra]: XD XD XD [Ra]: Or Monopoly. [Luna]: Rainbow Dash flies by, BWAAAAAHM. [Scott]: Fluttershy gets scared of her own shadow, BWAAAAAAHM [Luna]: YES [Ra]: XDDD [Scott]: Monopoly could be the tale of some young business person at the start of a promising career who just won second place in a beauty contest, BWAAAAAAHM [Luna]: They are making a Monopoly movie. [Jess]: … [Scott]: I see a harrowing shot where the protagonist is arrested by police who read them their rights. [Scott]: "Do not pass go.." *slams head on bonnet* "Do NOT collect $200." [Jim]: ahahaha [Jess]: Sure, why not. The world needs another tale of a scrappy shoe who makes it rich by buying all available property and then increasing rent beyond the ability of anyone to afford, thus turning people out onto the streets. … Much like the real world, really. [Scott]: Elefun: The movie. [Scott]: A giant alien elephant floats over anycity, America, launching multicoloured butterfly-shaped invaders from its trunk, BWAAAHM [Luna]: OUIJA [Luna]: BWAAAAHM [Jess]: Ouija has a lot of potential as a horror movie. I mean, given the number of screwy stories that get told about it… [Scott]: Or or how about this. [Scott]: An espionage thriller where terrorists have segments of a bomb that they are trying to assemble. [Scott]: Any segment is a quarter of a fully usable bomb. [Scott]: And someone in the CIA says "We have to stop them… from connecting four." [Scott]: BWAAAAAAAAAAAAHM

[torchwood-99]

#3, #19, #27 for in character ask game, for Eowyn!!

For the in-character ask game: 4 for Eowyn and 19 for Faramir!

Q: If your schedule was cleared of all prior commitments (school, work, meetings, chores, family obligations, appointments, errands, etc.) and you had an entire day to spend at your leisure, what all would you do?

Eowyn: I would rise early, before the dawn. I would get a sack of food and drink from the kitchen, and ride away into the forest to watch the sunrise. I would spend all day exploring Ithilien, by foot or mount, jumping fallen tree stumps, wading in the streams, and sleeping under the sun on a bed of flowers. I would walk barefoot, and bind my hair with grass, and fish for my own supper and cook trout over an open fire. I would eat with my fingers and there would be none to chide me for not eating like a lady. I would only turn for home when the sun begins to set, and I would linger a while at the gates of Emyn Arnen, buried in shadows, to wish sweet night to the stars, by the names gifted to them by the folks of the Mark, and bid them carry my good wishes to my brother, and Merry, and my dear friends far away, who look on them also. 

Q: What is a life lesson that has stuck with you?  Where did you first hear it?

Faramir: I was fortunate to be guided in my education by wise Mithrandir, who might be best known to you as Gandalf the Wizard. He did indulge my love of history, and encouraged me to seek to emulate the best of my fathers. But he also did advise me not to cleave too fierce to the past, for it would be an ill thing to cosset the memory of those long since passed, and forget to value the lives of the living. Since that day I have sought always to remind myself that of all my responsibilities, it is my duty to my fellow Man that I must hold above all else.  

#3, #19, #27 for in character ask game, for Eowyn!!

Q: Do you have any pets?  If yes, where does your pet sleep?  Does your pet help you with your daily tasks?  How did your pet come into your life? (Adoption? Rehoming? Gift? Found as a stray? Bought from a pet store?)  If no, do you have plans on getting one?

By the understanding of your people, you might consider Windfola and our dearest horses “pets”, but they are more than that. They are our brothers, our sisters, our children. They’re the lifeblood of my people. I did witness Windfola’s own birth, and assist in his deliverance. He was born in a great gale midwinter, for which he was named. 

On marrying Faramir, I was also presented three cats from my brother, as is tradition for brides in our kingdom. They are to keep the rats down, and I do think keep company for young brides missing their father’s home. They are dear things, and I take great joy in them, but I do not think it be right to call them pets, as they do not consider themselves such by any meaning. Sovereigns would be more apt.

As a girl, I did take to collective all manner of bugs and little things. Woodlice I loved, and spiders also, and I named them my pets. For my studies in herblore, and so I will always have somewhere warm to put my hands into dirt even in winter, my Lord Faramir built me a fine glasshouse, and there are a few spiders that have made their homes within, and good friends they are to me.

Q: What is a life lesson that has stuck with you?  Where did you first hear it?

That all darkness passes. My beloved Faramir was not the first to speak at me and tell me there was reason to hope, and reason to hope to live, but hearing his words was the first time in many years I felt it to be true, for the days before he had taken such efforts as to make them something to be believed.

Q: You have just woken up and discovered that you switched bodies with someone else for 24 hours.  Whose body is it?  What is it like being this person for a day?

Eowyn: I wish to awake as my brother, Eomer King. For many years I have envied the freedom with which he rode, the valour with which he fought, the love those people under his lead have for him. Oft I yearned to find myself within his skin and be as he is.

Now that I have love, freedom and valiant deeds done, my wish to be him for the day remains, but now only to do as all younger sisters shall, and leave him with a great deal of embarrassment when the day ends, and he is himself once more. 

[killva-creates]

LotR Starbucks Orders

so I work at starbucks and I sometimes find it funny to think about, hey what would the fellowship's orders be? (and what kind of customers would they be as well?)

frodo is a chai latte lover all the way. Iced in the summer, hot in the winter, he's a regular and knows the names of the employees at the local starbucks. He always gets it with oat milk. the employees know it by heart. He's one of those customers that's there for hours, working tirelessly. (everyone's clocked him for what he is; a gay writer)

sam is a London fog tea latte kinda guy, with brown sugar syrup and two pumps of vanilla. the only exception is when it's really hot out, that's when he gets either a green tea lemonade or a strawberry açaí lemonade. He tips as generously as he can. He usually stays with Frodo and orders him chocolate croissants because "mr. frodo, you need to eat!" (the employees have bets on whether or not they're together, and if not, when are they going to get their shit together?)

merry needs his coffee frap with extra espresso and a grilled cheese, no matter what time of day. he's usually the one that pays for pippin's drink (he doesn't really care, he's got money to burn.)

pippin only wants his blended strawberry açaí lemonade if someone else is buying. otherwise he will only get cake pops (birthday cake and bumblebee because they're the most fun) and get made fun of by the employees behind his back. one time the hobbits were in a car with Gandalf and pippin had always made him buy his drink in the largest size just to frustrate him. so finally, Gandalf snapped and didn't order pippin's drink, but gave him a pup cup instead. (sam then took it away because pippin tried to snort it on impulse. merry and frodo were laughing too hard to help)

gandalf needs his earl grey with milk and two packets of brown sugar. He knows exactly how much it costs, and will make sure the employee knows when it's over his usual total.

aragorn is a matcha latte lover, and it's always hot. He usually gets the bacon gouda and he always brings Arwen her order. (Arwen mobile orders while Aragorn orders in store)

Arwen gets a flat white and a cheese danish every time.

boromir wants a nitro cold brew in the biggest size fucking possible. (pippin and merry are his roommates and sleep is not an option.)

legolas wants his vanilla bean creme frappe grande, and he's always in some sort of hurry.

gimli likes his coffee hot with two sugars. that's it. he always comes through the drive through. the starbucks workers were surprised when he ordered a creme frappe as well (and then kept ordering it) until one day he came through the drive thru and Legolas was in the passenger seat, his hand tangled with Gimli's.

Bonus; Sauron gets a caramel ribbon crunch with mocha drizzle because he's a material girl.

[gwen-ever]

Chapter 2: The Traitor

Hey there, fabulous readers! 🖤 This is not your usual Chapter 1—it’s the remastered, deluxe edition! 🎉 I’ve sprinkled in extra details, hidden gems, and juicy insights that I think you’ll absolutely love. Think of it as the director’s cut of this fic! While you’re diving into this revamped chapter, know that I’m also hard at work crafting brand-new, never-before-seen chapters (exciting, right?!). These will hit your screens on either Saturdays or Sundays—so mark your calendars and keep an eye out! ⏳ A little extra fun: I’d love to hear your thoughts! What do you think is going to happen between Thorin and Geira? 🤔 Do you have any spicy theories or suspicions about where the story is headed? Drop your predictions—I’m dying to know! 🔮 Thank you so much for your incredible support—it means the world to me. If you enjoyed this chapter, consider leaving a review or reblogging it on Tumblr. Seriously, every little bit helps this story grow! 💖 Now, let’s jump back into the action and explore all the new twists and turns. Enjoy! Huge thank you to @lathalea to being my beta reader and tell me when I am messing up! <3 Mashkil: Dirt 'Angûna: Filth

Summary: When Smaug arrived, he not only killed the dwarves of Erebor, but he also destroyed the lives of the few who survived… whether he did it on purpose or not.After a hundred years, a part of Thorin’s past will come back to haunt him in the form of a dwarf who last knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins’ house, resurrecting old grudges and the pain of a life no one wants to talk about. Geira, daughter of Geiri, is anything but an open book, an exiled who no one wants around, a warrior who has no one to fight for, but only an oath she must fulfil.

Relationships: Thorin x FemaleOC Rating: M Warnings: none. AO3 LINK: HERE

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“What is she doing here?” roared Thorin Oakenshield, pointing an accusatory finger at the newcomer, who had just set her wooden bow down in a corner and removed her heavy black travelling cloak.

She felt the king's gaze burn into her like fire but avoided looking at him, even as he stepped closer, like an animal poised to attack. Instead, she raised her eyes towards the tall figure of the wizard, who smiled at her faintly from the corner of his mouth.

“My dear Geira, allow me to introduce our host, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf announced in a composed tone, ignoring, like her, the dwarven king’s question.

With small steps, Gandalf moved to one side, gesturing towards the small hobbit standing in the centre of the hallway.

“Good evening.” The hobbit tilted his head slightly to get a better look at her.

She guessed that he probably didn’t like being surrounded by so many intruders. Now that another one had arrived, he was likely in complete panic. She understood, as she could imagine how bewildering the scene must be for him.

For a brief moment, she felt sincere sympathy for him. But she herself was not in the best of moods, and maintaining that façade of indifference was becoming increasingly difficult.

Maintaining her composure, she offered him a small smile, inclined her head slightly, and touched her chest while clutching the edge of her red tunic. “Geira, daughter of Geiri, at your service,” she introduced herself.

“Traitor to her people!” Dwalin added scornfully, shouting at the top of his lungs.

She tried to ignore the dwarf’s words and continued smiling faintly at the hobbit before her. But then another voice, one she could never forget even in a thousand years, spoke.

“What are you doing here, filthy mashkil ?” Thorin growled, his voice reverberating through the house.

Her resolve to stay calm shattered like a crystal glass thrown to the ground.

Geira lifted her eyes, finally meeting Thorin’s. His icy blue gaze bore into hers, cold as a winter’s night during a snowstorm. Yet what she felt was... nothing.

She felt nothing. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

“No one asked for you to speak, King Under the Mountain,” she spat.

The moment she finished speaking, several elderly dwarves around the table erupted with exclamations. In an instant, some of them stood up, shouting at her.

One dwarf in particular kicked over his stool and slammed his two iron fists onto the wooden table, making it groan under the force.

“Filthy traitor, say that again!” Dwalin roared. “I dare you to say it again!”

Her eyes were drawn to the muscles of his arms, rippling with anger, and to the scars on his forearms, which seemed to take on a life of their own. She needed to extract herself from the situation—for the sake of the promise she had made to herself.

“Sit down, Dwalin...” Geira murmured.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, angûna . Just breathing your air disgusts me. You should die for daring to show your face here!”

“This is not dwarven territory...”

“As long as I am under this roof, everything around me is dwarven territory!”

At this, however, Geira couldn’t suppress a sneer. “It’s ironic that you’re so preoccupied with noticing and acknowledging my presence instead of thinking about how to reclaim your territory,” she shot back, staring him down.

The dwarf roared, stepping away from the table with a swift movement.

“One word from you, Thorin, and I’ll make her regret it bitterly! Damned traitor!” he bellowed, consumed by rage.

Geira turned her gaze to the Dwarven king, who remained standing. She locked eyes with him, waiting silently for his response to the warrior dwarf’s demand. And she got it.

The frown on Thorin’s brow deepened, but his gaze remained cold—icy and terrifying, like the last look he had given her long ago.

Thorin opened his mouth to issue a command, but both were interrupted by the most unexpected voice, which, to her surprise, came to her defence.

“Excuse me, but I don’t believe that’s the proper way to speak to a lady.” All eyes turned to the side of the corridor—to Bilbo.

The hobbit stammered under their scrutiny, adjusting his stance with his feet planted together.

“Although, I mean... If she’s what you’re saying... or what you think you’re saying,” he added, glancing at Thorin. “But not in my home. No, sir!” He tugged on the straps of his trousers, more out of irritation than anything else.

Geira released her grip on the sword hilt at her side, startled by the hobbit’s boldness towards Thorin. That small gesture of courage piqued her interest, a rarity for her these days.

She noticed Gandalf’s amused glance at the hobbit, who rocked on his heels, likely expecting Dwalin and Thorin to return to their seats—but they didn’t.

Instead, the clatter of dishes and a few chuckles from the adjoining sitting room broke the icy silence that had descended upon them, dispelling the tension that had thickened like frost.

“Uh-oh! Someone’s angered Master Dwalin! Take this pint, brother, and tread carefully.”

“Watch it yourself, you’re the one stepping on my foot, Kili!”

“Well, then move over! We’re missing all the fun because of you!”

The entire room quickly turned towards the source of the noise—all except for one dwarf: Thorin, who kept his eyes fixed on the dwarf woman without a moment’s distraction.

Before Geira could wonder what was happening, two young dwarves appeared from the kitchen, each carrying two pints. One had hair as golden as molten gold, and the other sported dark and curly locks that were painfully familiar.

Geira held her breath for a few seconds.

“Oh, shut it, Fili! You’re always in the way. If you’d just step aside, I might figure out why they’ve all stopped shouting too,” said the younger dwarf, lifting the pints to take a seat.

“Surely Uncle has finished,” the other replied, mimicking his brother’s movements. “Or the other... burg... lady... has arrived…”

The blonde dwarf didn’t finish his sentence as his blue eyes landed on Geira.

His jaw dropped, causing the twin braids of his moustache to sway.

The hazel-haired dwarf tilted his head to the side as he observed his brother in confusion, slowly lowering himself into a seat.

“What’s a burg... lady?”

Finally, his gaze also fell upon her. But unlike his brother’s stunned expression, his open mouth soon curved into a warm smile.

“SO YOU’RE THE NEW MEMBER! WELCOME!” he shouted, throwing his arms in the air, pints still in hand.

Geira said nothing, remaining impassive, all while feeling the other brother’s gaze still upon her.

“WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? SIT DOWN! I EVEN HAVE AN EXTRA PINT FOR YOU IF YOU WANT IT!”

“Kili...” Thorin growled a warning.

“Why were you all shouting like that? And why are you still standing? We were about to explain to Mister Baggins how...”

“Kili,” the elder of the two brothers interrupted, motioning with a glance towards Geira’s sword hilt.

Geira noticed Fili’s eyes and quickly covered the visible seal on the pommel of her sword with her hand. Yet his blue eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re a...”

“Fili, Kili, silence!” Thorin stopped them, but Kili persisted, seemingly unaware that they were only making matters worse.

“Oh, come on, Uncle, it’s wonderful! It will be all...”

“Silence, I said!” Thorin’s roar shook the room, his fist slamming against the table.

Both brothers froze, mouths agape, stunned by their uncle’s sudden outburst. Yet they obeyed, remaining silent as instructed, although their eyes cast accusatory glances of the room. They instinctively knew something wasn’t right.

Geira’s hand slipped away from her sword hilt, her fingers falling as if pulled by an invisible force. Though she avoided meeting the two brothers’ gazes, she felt the weight of their silent scrutiny. They sat back down quietly, their eyes fixed on her.

The dwarven king, however, narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening as he shifted his focus back to Gandalf.

A heavy silence once again filled the room, laden with unspoken words.

“I want her gone,” Thorin declared emotionlessly.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Gandalf replied calmly as he returned to his seat.

“I won’t allow her to stay here. I won’t permit her to remain near my company and endanger it simply with her presence,” Thorin growled lowly. “I don’t trust her, and I don’t trust anything she says!” he snapped, refusing to look at her.

Geira clenched her fists, struggling to remain calm, though it was becoming increasingly difficult.

How dare he speak of trust? Him, of all people—he who had betrayed her.

How dare he!

She gritted her teeth as a blind fury clouded her vision.

“You’ll have to, for I have done what I thought was right, and recalling her from exile is the right choice,” Gandalf interjected.

“The right choice?” Thorin’s voice rose, his piercing blue eyes glinting dangerously. “And how would we know that?”

Gandalf gestured towards Geira, encouraging her to speak with a slight nod of his head. Thirteen heads turned towards her, and even Thorin finally rested his cold gaze upon her.

For a moment, his mere glance made her falter, causing her to choke on the words she had not yet uttered. Yet she had to say them—for herself, for her father, for her 120 years of exile, and for all the pain she had endured because of the cursed dwarf staring at her.

Swallowing her anger, her vision slowly cleared.

“I am here to fulfil my oath,” she said, looking the dwarven king straight in the eyes.

A subtle shiver swept through the room, penetrating to the bones of those present.

A dull thud echoed through the room—the sound of a cup slamming onto the wooden table.

“This is too much!” Dwalin roared, rising to his feet again. “Thorin, just say a word and I’ll take her head off her shoulders, as I should have done years ago!”

Thorin didn’t respond to Dwalin, keeping his attention fixed on her.

“Your oath?” he asked, his tone unnervingly calm.

With a few strides, he closed the distance between them, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. “Your oath holds no value anymore. It was broken long ago. Your words, your oath, are nothing but a heap of cold ash!”

She almost dug her nails into her palm. “An oath is for life. You were there when I swore it.”

Thorin’s jaw clenched again, his breathing unsteady.

“And I was there when you broke it,” he growled lowly. “Right in front of my eyes...”

A pang of pain tore through her chest, memories of that day rushing back to her. She could see his look again, feel the tears streaking her face, feel her heart being torn from her chest. She could see her world burning before her eyes, her life reduced to ashes—and then... exile.

The exile he had condemned her to.

“I have no intention of fulfilling my oath for you , if that’s what concerns you, King Under the Mountain,” she spat.

“I don’t care why you want to keep it. I don’t need you to keep it!” Thorin roared, enraged. “Your words mean nothing to me, a'lâju Mahal !”

His words were followed by the screech of a chair being pushed back.

“Thorin...” Balin whispered, but Thorin was unstoppable, like a raging fire.

“You have no place among us, no honour, no name, no clan! You are nothing! Your oaths were broken the moment you turned your back on us. Your blood is tainted, just like your father’s!”

For Geira, this was the final straw.

She approached him with a few steps, glaring down at him, her words pouring out like an unstoppable torrent.

“Then let Dwalin take my head now, this instant, for I assure you, Thorin, son of Thrain, that I would rather be buried in the ground than keep the words I once swore to your family!” she retorted mercilessly. “If I could, I would take them back one by one!”

“Silence, traitor!” he shouted at her, slamming his fist against the wall beside him.

“ENOUGH!”

Darkness suddenly descended over everyone present, enveloping the room in a dense, almost tangible shadow. Before Geira could respond, a profound silence fell around them, broken only by the power Gandalf had just unleashed.

Gandalf looked down with an intensity that seemed to shrink them, as if the darkness itself sought to break their determination.

Almost. For as sure as the sunrise, dwarves were not easily intimidated—even when the shadow’s power belonged to a wizard.

“You dwarves and your stubbornness! You’ll ruin us all before we even begin our journey! Geira will come with us. If I say her presence is essential, then it is essential! Her reasons do not matter to me, nor should they to any of you!”

“It does matter,” Thorin’s deep voice rose from the silence that had gripped his companions. “You cannot ask us to trust her, Gandalf. What she did is...”

“I know, but I ask you, for the sake of this mission, to set aside old grievances. Otherwise, we won’t get far if you keep quarrelling. When we reach the Lonely Mountain...” Gandalf paused briefly, taking a deep breath. “Geira will accompany us there and help us reclaim it, and then...”

“Then I’ll leave, if that’s what you wish, Thorin Oakenshield,” Geira interrupted, glancing at Thorin’s hand still resting against the wall beside her.

Thorin raised an eyebrow and slowly stepped back, returning to his seat. “That is what I wish for now—that you leave—and that will not change,” he stated, casting a glance at her hair, so short that it revealed her neck, shoulders, and part of her ears.

The same length it had been when he last saw her.

“I don’t want it to change...” she replied, ashamed of those short locks once more after so long.

The cut he had given her.

And with one last disgusted glance from Thorin at her head, the discussion came to an end. Geira bit her tongue, lowering her gaze. After that long exchange, she accepted the chair that the hobbit kindly offered her with a smile. Meanwhile, the company resumed the conversations they had been having before her arrival.

But the grave atmosphere continued to permeate the room, even as everyone’s focus shifted back to the hobbit.

Geira observed him as Gandalf began explaining the mission to him. It seemed suicidal, at best. The hobbit’s brow furrowed with each new detail, each wrinkle reflecting a small, desperate question. He glanced back and forth between Thorin and Gandalf, his wide eyes almost pleading, as though hoping one of them would reveal that it was all just a cruel joke.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. She felt an odd kinship with him. She knew the instinct to flee, to turn around, and slip out through the round door, pretending none of it had happened.

But she remained rooted in place, her feet practically sinking into the floorboards.

She had given her word to Gandalf and, more importantly, to herself. This time, she wouldn’t run. Her father’s voice echoed faintly in her memory, reminding her that she was more than the whispered stories people told about her. Enough hiding , she thought, steadying her heart.

It was time to face whatever was thrown at her.

A long scroll, resembling a contract, appeared in Gandalf’s hands, drawing her attention back to the room. She watched as the hobbit examined it, his brow tightening, his shoulders slumping with every line, his fingers twitching faintly. Every word seemed to weigh him down, dragging him deeper into the journey that awaited them.

“Incineration?” he asked incredulously, unfurling the parchment further. “...I’m going to faint...” he whispered.

“Think of a furnace with wings: a flash of light, searing pain, and puff! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash!” quipped Bofur, peering out from the doorway where he sat.

Bilbo lost all colour in his face, becoming alarmingly pale. To Geira, it looked like an alarm bell; she held her breath until he fainted, collapsing onto the green carpet like a sack of potatoes.

So his courage in speaking to Thorin earlier had been a fleeting spark of bravery?

Chaos erupted in that moment. Everyone leapt to their feet, the floorboards creaking under the sudden commotion. Hands reached out, voices shouted over one another, a frenzied attempt to help—but all they managed to do was create more disorder. The room seemed to come alive with confusion.

“Out. All of you. Now,” Gandalf’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. With a wave of his hand, he ushered them outside, sending them stumbling into the open air.

Dwalin and Nori stayed behind, carefully lifting Bilbo with their strong hands and helping him sit upright. They murmured soft, reassuring words to him, though Geira, already heading to the kitchen, barely noticed. 

It had been years since she had worked in a proper kitchen, and the delicate dishes felt foreign to her now.

Her fingers brushed the edge of a blue-and-yellow cup, its smooth surface almost startling her. She picked it up carefully. After what felt like an eternity, she finally brought a steaming cup back into the parlour, her hands trembling slightly from the effort.

Bilbo was seated in a deep armchair, his gaze distant and unfocused, his posture rigid. The moment he heard her steps, his eyes darted to her, following her every movement with quiet intensity.

As soon as she approached, his eyes remained fixed on her, watching each of her gestures until she broke the silence, offering him the cup of aromatic tea.

“Your eyes haven’t stopped following me since I stepped through your door, Bilbo Baggins. I get the feeling you have many questions to ask me,” she said, forcing a smile and trying to appear as friendly as possible.

It was so difficult.

“Well, I... uh...” he stammered, unsure how to continue, perhaps embarrassed to have been caught staring.

He watched her silently as she found a spot near the lit fireplace, leaning her back against its side. “Well, you... you’re like them, aren’t you?”

“A dwarf?”

He nodded, shifting the warm cup between his hands. “But, well, I’d heard that dwarf women... had long...” The hobbit trailed off abruptly, glancing quickly at her hair.

She sighed, deciding to tell him a half-truth.

“I cut them a long time ago,” she explained hurriedly, though she tried not to offend him. “As a sign of... mourning,” she murmured.

It wasn’t the whole truth.

Bilbo’s eyes lingered on her, as though trying to read the story hidden in the dark, tormented depths of her gaze. For a moment, his curiosity took root, growing like a vine left undisturbed for too long. When was the last time anyone had intrigued him like this?

The silence between them grew, filled only by the crackling of the fire, until at last, he spoke, unable to resist.

“May I ask another question?” he ventured, watching her eyes gradually lose themselves in the flames. “Is it true, what they said about you earlier? Those names they called you—are they true?”

“Are you afraid I’ll stab you in your sleep?” she retorted sharply, raising an eyebrow.

Bilbo cursed himself—cursed his Tookish curiosity.

“N-no... no...”

“I am exiled, yes. But a traitor... that...” She hesitated, staring again into the fire that crackled silently before them. “That I am not. Never...” she said softly, her voice trailing off. “I am here for one purpose only: to fulfil a promise I made long ago, too long ago...” she murmured, turning towards him. Grey, curious but respectful eyes met dark, deep, tormented ones.

“All of you have a purpose, a mission in all this. I... I’m just a hobbit. I’m not what you all think I am...”

Geira watched the hobbit’s fingers tighten around the cup, and her gaze clouded momentarily.

They were good questions he was asking. Yet Gandalf believed in him, and the dwarves in the other room trusted him far more than they trusted her, someone of their own kind.

For a moment, he reminded her of a young dwarven lady in a grand, luxurious room in a distant mountain, years and years ago, questioning what she wanted to do with her life.

Slowly, she moved closer to him, kneeling beside his green armchair and resting her hands on the armrest.

“I believe you’ll only find out if you come with us. There’s much more to you than meets the eye, Bilbo. I saw it before, and... even if you can’t see it, it’s there. It always is,” she said gently, surprised at her own words.

Why was she speaking to him like this, in that tone, as though she knew him? As though she cared about his opinion? Perhaps it was because she hadn’t spoken to anyone this way in years.

“The journey would be fraught with danger—both from outside and within the Company. It would require courage, but also a deep fear of the unknown, to achieve what we need to do. Because what awaits us on the other side of the known world could be everything—or nothing. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come with us.”

“Danger... within the Company?” Bilbo repeated.

Geira was about to respond when the moment was interrupted by approaching footsteps. The wizard entered, his gaze immediately falling on Bilbo as he checked on the hobbit’s condition.

“Excuse me,” Geira murmured, stepping back and preparing to leave, understanding that it might be better to leave the hobbit with the wizard.

She adjusted her cloak, her fingers brushing the fabric as she approached the door. Just as her hand closed around the handle, Bilbo’s voice called after her.

“Thank you, Lady Geira.”

She paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a faint smile. “You may call me Geira,” she replied, her voice soft and unexpectedly warm.

Bilbo’s gaze lingered on her, wide-eyed, before quickly shifting back to the cup in his hands. He gave a small nod, his expression a mixture of surprise and gratitude.

Geira caught the subtle smile that curled at the corners of his lips—hesitant, but present. She returned the gesture with a slight smile of her own. With one final look at the hobbit, she opened the door.

The cool night air brushed her face as she stepped out into the darkness, the gentle rustle of leaves accompanying the soft creak of the door closing behind her.

She needed to calm her nerves, to regain the composure and cold detachment that the evening’s events had so thoroughly shaken. From an inner pocket of her cloak, she retrieved her long white wooden pipe. From another, she pulled out her pipe weed pouch.

Before long, she was peacefully smoking, seated on the bench just outside the door. Each long puff released small clouds that dissipated into the air; she watched them with her eyes until they disappeared, her mind wandering into the labyrinth of her tangled thoughts.

From the moment Gandalf had appeared before her in that human village, she had known this would be anything but a stroll in the woods. She knew how the others would see her, how they would treat her for the entirety of the journey. What she had experienced earlier was merely a taste of it.

She shook her head, taking another long drag from her pipe to clear her thoughts. She was here for a good reason—she had explained it to Bilbo. She just needed to focus on that and nothing else. It didn’t matter if they ignored her, refused to speak to her along the leagues they would travel, or treated her with suspicion and indifference. She would let them. Their stares would have to slide off her like water on stone.

What Gandalf had told her had haunted her for weeks. The possibility of hope—that if she fulfilled her oath, perhaps, if she survived, she could reclaim her name and return... home.

But did she truly want to go home? Why was she still clinging to a broken oath?

“Are we interrupting?”

A young voice pulled her from her thoughts. Turning, she found herself facing not one, but two young dwarves. They were the same two who had tried to persuade Thorin to include her in the group—Fili and Kili, if she recalled correctly. They had recognised what she was and who she was. 

Thorin’s nephews.

Two princes.

Removing the pipe from her mouth, a mix of emotions swirled in her chest—the desire to send them away battling against the impulse to ask them to stay.

“That depends on what you want,” she replied cautiously.

Kili sat beside her without waiting for an invitation. Despite sensing Geira’s wary gaze on him, he paid it no mind.

He pulled out his own pipe and, after lighting it, leaned back on the bench, exhaling small clouds of smoke.

“We just wanted to share some tobacco with you, that’s all,” he insisted, offering a brief smile.

“But perhaps I don’t want to share.”

The younger dwarf widened his eyes and looked at her, almost apologetically.

Geira reproached herself—perhaps that wasn’t the right way to proceed. They were her companions now, and she should at least try not to quarrel with them. Yet the situation was proving so complicated, and the blue eyes of the other brother weren’t making it any easier.

“You should, if you don’t want to isolate yourself before we even set off...” Fili interjected.

Even in the moonlight, his piercing blue eyes gleamed—so familiar it hurt.

She forced herself not to let the sting in his words seep into her voice. “I thought I was already an outcast before we set off, Master Dwarf. And forgive me, but I don’t yet officially know your names, which seems unfair given that you already know mine.”

The dark-haired dwarf sitting next to her laughed, throwing his head back. “You’re right, forgive us. But the earlier circumstances didn’t allow for introductions. I’m Kili, and this is my brother Fili. We’re the sons of Vili.”

Sons of Vili, this mean that they were also Dís’s sons.

A pang in her stomach made her grip her pipe tightly, and suddenly her chest felt incredibly heavy.

The sons of Dís, Princess Dís.

How many years had passed? Had it truly been so long? Had time around her slowed so much that she didn’t even know how many years she had lived this life?

They had been children, but they were older now—older than she had been when everything had changed.

Geira remained silent, trying to calm her racing heart after the revelation. She took another puff of smoke only to realise she was out of tobacco. She cursed silently, cleaned her pipe, and placed it back in her pocket.

Wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself, she braced against a gust of wind that cut through her heavy travelling clothes.

“You’re not very talkative, are you? Yet you spoke to the hobbit. I heard you!” Kili teased, sitting far too close.

“You’re talkative enough for the both of us, young prince,” she replied.

His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing suspiciously.

Geira explained herself before the situation could escalate. “You called Thorin ‘uncle’ earlier. I don’t possess magical powers, if that’s what you fear.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking. But I am surprised you called me young. You don’t seem as old as Balin, or Dori, or Master Óin...”

This time, it was Geira who smiled. She barely lifted the corner of her lips, but it was enough for Kili—even if he didn’t know it.

“Appearances can be deceiving. To me, you are certainly quite young—mere boys.”

“How old...”

His brother Fili interrupted him sharply, his glacial eyes again fixating on Geira’s sword, just as they had before.“The sword. Where did you..?” “Lads, come back inside, please. The hobbit has decided,” Balin’s voice interrupted Fili’s question as he appeared in the doorway.

This allowed Geira to avoid answering a rather uncomfortable query.

The old dwarf cast her a brief but penetrating glance before retreating indoors with the two brothers, not bothering to check if she followed. Geira chose to remain outside a little longer, alone.

Balin left Bag End’s door slightly ajar, and from the ensuing murmurs and heavy sighs, Geira deduced that Bilbo had refused to join them on their quest.

A part of her felt a deep sadness and regret. She had resigned herself to embarking on this journey with dwarves who despised her, but the burden seemed less heavy knowing that a face less hostile than the others would have been at her side.

She let out a deep sigh, straining to catch snippets of arguments, angry exclamations, or stubborn remonstrances from inside, but her ears were met with an unsettling silence.

Then, softly, a melody hummed through the quiet; Thorin’s voice, deep and warm, filled the air like an intoxicating scent.

Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold.

Geira froze as the melody swelled. The words were different from what she remembered, but the song struck her deeply.

A powerful grip seemed to seize her chest, as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her heart. The words carried a bitter flavour, nostalgia for something lost long ago—a longing for home, for family.

Soon, Thorin was no longer the only one singing; the others joined in.

The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread, The trees like torches blazed with light.

The song ended, but the sorrow lingered.

Geira quickly retreated further into the shadows of the night, her old and familiar companion, to hide the sadness gripping her chest.

She blinked rapidly to stop the tears from falling and took a deep breath, forcing herself to listen as Thorin gave instructions for the next morning’s departure.

“Get as much rest as possible. Gandalf will guide us to our lodgings...”

The room stirred with movement, signs that everyone was gathering their belongings. Not wanting to be seen in such a pitiful state, Geira decided to wait outside. Perhaps, under the cover of darkness, no one would notice her.

As she expected, the others emerged, their faces grim. They cast her fleeting glances before disappearing down a path leading to a small inn. Once the last of them—Ori—had vanished from view, Geira entered the hobbit’s home, looking for her bow. She found it where she had left it, leaning against the small kitchen wall. She cast a quick glance around, noting how clean and orderly everything was once again, as though nothing had happened.

It was a beautiful home, one that belonged to someone who loved their life and wouldn’t change it for all the gold in the world.

Securing her bow across her back, she picked up her quiver and slung it over her shoulder. She moved briskly through the hallway but stopped when her eyes fell on the long contract Thorin had signed, countersigned by Balin, resting on a stool in front of the chair.

Bilbo’s signature was missing—untouched, blank.

She sighed again, brushing her fingers lightly across the parchment.

When Bilbo had thanked her, had he already decided in his heart not to take part? Running a hand through her short hair, she touched each lock from her forehead to her nape.

“You’ll see. He’ll come,” Gandalf’s voice echoed as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back and his usual sardonic smile playing on his lips. He regarded her for a long moment, those piercing blue eyes seeming to delve into her very soul.

Geira, deep down, feared them.

“The contract will be signed very soon,” he insisted.

“You’re so sure? That young hobbit wasn’t convinced. I’ve seen that look far too often—in young soldiers, recruits, even captains of the guard.”

“Oh, I have hope! But, as usual, my hopes tend to be correct!”

“Like the hope that I would come?” she retorted sharply, raising her gaze to meet his.

Gandalf took a deep breath, tilting his head slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling. “That is the uncertainty that, whether you believe me or not, has tormented me for weeks,” he explained softly. “I won’t hide that I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“I didn’t want to,” Geira admitted. “I waited in Aldburg as long as I could,” she added, smoothing her travelling bag with a swipe of her hand.

The wizard nodded before speaking again. “I understand. What changed your mind?”

At that unexpected question, Geira stiffened. She had spent weeks in a small inn room in the village of Aldburg in Rohan, mulling over the wizard’s proposal. Until a fortnight ago, she had been more than certain that she would not participate in the expedition.

Why should she? Why should she believe what Gandalf had told her outside that inn? She had known nothing of what lay ahead, yet the future he had painted for her had been too much even for a hardened soul like hers.

He could revoke your exile, Geira. You could return home, fulfil your oath, and be free. Isn’t that what you want? To be free again?

“ I don’t want to die like this—in the filth of a human village, with an invisible chain wrapped around my chest... I don’t want to be bound to him any longer,” she replied hastily, reciting the words as though they were a well-rehearsed chant.

“And it’s not about him?”

She raised her eyes to Gandalf. “Would you ask that of a victim at the executioner’s block? Or the wife of a soldier killed in battle?”

“That depends on how much the victim cared for the executioner—and vice versa,” he answered quietly.

For Geira, it felt like a punch to the chest. A surge of frustration and anger overwhelmed her, and she fought the urge to shout, to release the fury she had held inside all evening.

She trembled, furious, and finally asked the question that had been gnawing at her for months.

“Why did you want me to come? You have warriors, smart and capable dwarves. Why did you come to me? And don’t tell me it was for me !” she nearly growled.

As he had done throughout the evening, Gandalf remained silent for several seconds. He didn’t show anger or displeasure, but the way he looked at her made the world around her feel cold and heavy. For a moment, she felt the same.

“Because you must fulfil your oath,” he finally said.

"I never intended to honour it! That oath was broken long ago, just like the one he made to me! You know i just want to get this thing away from me and the only way to do it is to cut any connection with him. Stop lying to me!" she insisted, pleading with her eyes.

She was owed an answer, a simple answer, nothing more. She just wanted to know why Gandalf wanted her to suffer, why he wanted her so badly in that Company, why he cared so much that he forced Thorin to accept her as a member of his Company.

Gandalf sighed gently, smiling sadly at the corner of his mouth. "I didn’t do it for you, I did it for the executioner, the warrior, the king..."

Geira unexpectedly smiled, a sad smile, without the slightest hint of joy on her face. "You know Gandalf, now I understand why you lied to me, because if those had been the true reasons, you know, I’m sure I would have rejected your invitation."

And without saying another word, she turned and exited through the rounded green door.

She left the hobbit’s house behind, following the same path the others had taken, passing more green mounds— the hobbits' homes— and finally stopping at the inn where the entire company was already lodging, though still awake. And she knew that tonight, like many others, she would find no rest.

Was she really doing this just for herself? Yes, that was the answer, because if it had been otherwise, she would rather have died at his hands than relive all this. To feel it again. To be betrayed again.

—————-

"I told you coming here would be a waste of time!"

"Hiring a hobbit, where did he get such an idea?!"

"I didn’t think such a small body could possess so much..."

"Stubbornness, Oin?"

"Well, why would he help us if he doesn’t even know us?" Bofur observed, relighting his pipe with a flint and sitting more comfortably on the windowsill."Gandalf promised us the hobbit would come with us; an’ if he said so, we must trust him."

"How about a bet then? Come on, Nori! What do ya say?"

A long conversation began, involving everyone, and bets were placed on whether Bilbo would arrive by the next morning.

The hustle and bustle filling the small inn room, where they were to sleep, allowed two dwarves to slip into the corridor, out of sight and earshot.

"What do you think, lad?" Balin asked, smoothing his long white beard.

The other dwarf sighed wearily, the inevitable frown between his brows speaking louder than words; even after removing his heavy cloak to reveal the long blue tunic covering his trousers, his figure was imposing and commanded awe and respect.

No matter how hard Balin tried, he still struggled to believe that this dwarf, once a child, then a young man, would become king so soon, facing two great battles that had taken everything from him and with which he had to reckon every day, every night.

The old dwarf knew with certainty: even in his dreams, Thorin Oakenshield had never been free, safe from resentment and regret.

"I think this mission began under the worst of omens: I wonder if..." Thorin paused, not quite sure how to continue.

"If we should continuewith the quest?"

The king nodded, but his gaze was far from convinced, lost in thoughts unknown to most, but perceptible to Balin; or, at least, for most of the time. But, for safety's sake, he decided to approach the subject calmly, one step at a time.

"Don’t trouble yourself about the hobbit: if you hadn’t given me a sign and brought me here, I would have placed a bet in his favour, you know?" he gave a half-smile.

Thorin made a dismissive sound, somewhere between scepticism and despair.

"Dwalin was right: coming here was a waste of time. It was madness to believe in his help; but even without him, we must go on. No, it’s not his presence that concerns me... no... not him."

There it was, the exposed nerve, the sore point. Just as Balin had imagined: it wasn’t the thought of the failed thief that troubled him.

"Thorin..." Balin began, placing a hand on Thorin’s forearm. But as soon as he did, the muscles beneath the shirt tensed, and the old dwarf was stopped by a raised hand and a fierce look.

"No, Balin. I don’t want to talk about it," came his abrupt reply; and no matter how much the older dwarf insisted, he would not be listened to. The pride of his king was stronger than reason, which struggled to prevail: if he had even tried to think, Thorin would have understood; but stubbornness and rage blinded him.

Balin sighed deeply and shook his head, but in his heart, he hoped this journey would bring victories beyond the dwarves' lost pride.

———————-

Dawn came too soon, and the continuous yawns surprised Geira as she splashed her face with cold water and then fastened her sword to her side, but first, she drew it from its scabbard, inspecting the blade for new scratches. The daylight broke across it, sending blinding glimmers along the walls: her hand caressed the finely crafted hilt.

That sword was her past, her present, perhaps her future. Everything she still possessed was that sword, all that tied her to who she had been was that sword.

She had allowed the two princes to know who she was and what she had been.

She had managed to avoid their questions, but she was sure, having seen the two princes, they would ask Balin, Dwalin... or Thorin for confirmation. And what would they hear?

She returned the sword to its place and stopped losing herself in pointless thoughts; she took one last quick look around the room, tracing the outlines of the simple wooden bed, the chest against the wall, and the windowsill, where a vase of fragrant lilac and yellow flowers stood: perfect, she hadn’t forgotten anything.

She adjusted her travel pack on her shoulder and closed the door, descending to the ground floor; she nodded to the innkeeper and handed him a coin, then stepped out into the warm morning air. Outside, a riot of colours and scents overwhelmed her, leaving her stunned: everything was so wonderfully green, and as the previous evening, she wondered what life could be like there.

"Good morning!"

Kili’s sunny, mischievous smile interrupted her thoughts, just as it had the evening before. He was standing in front of her, chewing a piece of dried meat with his usual nonchalance, while Fili joined him at his side, wearing the same roguish grin.

"Come on, we’ll show you your pony."

"My pony?" she asked, incredulous.

With a nod, Fili invited her to follow them, or rather, to follow his younger brother, who had already begun walking with his hands crossed behind his neck. They took her to the back of the inn, where three animals stood in a large pen. Kili opened the wooden gate and pointed to the pony, a female with an entirely white coat, calm and gentle: Geira approached her, gently stroking her; the pony neighed, appreciating the gesture and making her new mistress smile.

Yes, she liked her, she admitted: she would be a good travelling companion.

"Thank you, lads," she said, offering a grateful smile to the two brothers.

They lowered their heads in response, still focusing on the straps of their bags before leading their horses outside, where the others waited in silence.

Geira followed them without receiving a single greeting from the other members of the company: only a deep and penetrating silence that reminded her of everything they thought of her.

Even her smile slipped from her lips like a shadow chased away by the light.

Silently, she mounted her pony, preparing for the long road ahead. When they were all ready, Thorin looked at each of them, including Gandalf and Geira, with a solemn and distant look, as though he was searching for an ancient strength or perhaps a hint of fear in their faces.

He did not say a word; there was no need. Each of them knew the task that awaited them, the risks and dangers that accompanied it. Yet, nothing would dissuade them: their hearts belonged to Erebor, their promised land, and nothing would deter or stop them from claiming what was theirs.

Thorin led his mount along the paths of Hobbiton, and the others followed in silence. Geira did not look back, keeping her gaze forward while her heart balanced between the weight of memories and an unexpected relief.

They left the town and entered a clearing bordered by ancient trees, whose branches bent under the weight of past ages.

"Wait!"

"Wait!"

"Wait!"

A familiar voice stopped them, and Geira turned in the saddle, almost incredulous.

Bilbo Baggins, the little hobbit, was now to their left, panting after the long run that brought him there. With an awkward smile, he handed the contract to Balin, claiming his decision with the pride of one who has crossed a threshold. When the old dwarf confirmed the signature, Geira smiled at Bilbo warmly and sincerely, a look that erased any doubt from the hobbit’s face.

[legitimatesatanspawn]

Double checking the timeline reminded me of some fun facts:

Bilbo, Age 18: Frodo's father (Drogo Baggins) is born.

Bilbo, Age 21: The Fell Winter. Loss of crops, "large white wolves" (could be wargs) invade the Shire.

Bilbo, Age 22: Region just south of Brandywine floods.

Bilbo, Age 26: Bilbo's paternal grandmother (Laura Baggins nee Grubb) dies at 102, his father (Bungo Baggins) becomes head of family at 70.

Bilbo, Age 30: Frodo's mother (Primula Baggins nee Brandybuck) is born.

Bilbo, Age 33: Officially considered an adult by Shire reckoning.

Bilbo, Age 36: Bilbo's father (Bungo Baggins) dies at 80. Presumably old age.

Bilbo, Age 44: Bilbo's mother (Belldonna Baggins nee Took) dies at 82. Presumably old age.

Bilbo, Age 50-52: The Dwarf Company meets at Bag End in Hobbiton (50/51), Quest ends (51), Bilbo gets home (52).

Bilbo, Age 78: Frodo is born and presumably lives in Hobbiton.

Bilbo, Age 90; Frodo, Age 12: Frodo's parents die (boating accident). Respectively 72 and 60.

Frodo is taken in by his maternal uncle's family (Rorimac Brandybuck) and lives in Brandy Hall in Buckland. Because his parents would often take him to visit his mother's family there, presumably just as much as they'd visit their Baggins side relatives in Hobbiton.

Bilbo, Age 99; Frodo, Age 21: Bilbo officially names Frodo his heir and brings him to Bag End. Note, it's implied he's had lots of visits and everything in between so its not just out of nowhere.

Bilbo, Age 111; Frodo, Age 33: Gandalf visits Bilbo regarding the Ring. The Birthday Party. Frodo is officially considered an adult in the Shire.

Bilbo, Age 112: Bilbo moves into Rivendell.

Bilbo, Age 128; Frodo, Age 50: Frodo gets visited by Gandalf regarding the Ring. Frodo leaves the Shire and reaches Rivendell. Fellowship is founded.

Bilbo, Age 129; Frodo, Age 51: Sauron is defeated. Later, Grima kills Saruman.

Bilbo, Age 131; Frodo, Age 53: Bilbo and Frodo sail off to Valinor.

Presumably Bilbo and Frodo live near/in Valinor for the rest of their days. Barring health issues, Frodo should live another 40 years.

So remember when Bilbo was stressing out over the dwarves using his mother's glorybox to scrape his traveling boots off on? Keep in mind a glory box is basically a big fancy chest that young women would/do (not sure if some places still do this) put items and goods in to help prepare the dowry and then transport it to the new home.

The fact that Hobbits apparently do dowries considering how they handle gift-giving is a little confusing to me. Bungo Baggins did make Bag End for his new wife, though, so maybe both sides do an equivalent to a dowry?

But even setting aside the fact that it was a keepsake and something he clearly cherished, dude was probably still grieving his parents and here comes this pack of random ass strangers just scraping stuff on it like it's that metal thing outside of some old houses I've seen around here. I forget the word for them. Those little metal plates screwed near to the front door on the pavement so that people can scrape off mud and in some cases dogshit/horseshit before entering someone's home.

Honestly I like those plates more than the welcome mats which are often either too thin to be of real use or too difficult to clean. The plate solves both issues.

Bilbo was essentially a teenager when everyone survived a horrible winter with food shortages and vicious attacks by wolves who either overhunted or ran out of prey in their original territory. And then he was a young adult when his parents died. Hobbits come of age at 33 and live to about 90-100. 110 is old af to them while the oldest known hobbit (before Bilbo) being at 130 as incredible. Give it up for Gerontius Took, everyone: Bilbo's maternal grampa!

Also considering Lobella Sacksville-Baggins is Bilbo's immediate cousin through his father's siblings, we have a massive reason for why Lobella being a salty ass isn't just a personality trait but more about family drama. Your bachelor cousin head of the family who has apparently zero interest in marrying or having kids of his own happily visits all his relatives and makes grand gifts to people as part of the local custom regarding birthday parties (Hobbits give gifts on their birthday rather than receiving them).

And then Bilbo adopts a distant cousin instead. 1st/2nd degree actually based on family but Bilbo's grandfather's brother's great-grandson doesn't roll off as easily, although Bilbo's maternal aunt's grandson does. Meanwhile Lobella is Bilbo's uncle's daughter-in-law making her son Lotho would've been his immediate successor by inheritance laws. Of course, Lobella is no saint and she was preemptively nasty and grabby with things not even hers but I'm gonna admit, if I cared about that I would definitely feel hurt.