Summary: The Company had finally gone to sleep, but visions begin to plague Sisilla’s mind. With meeting Beorn and having to go to Mirkwood and take the Elven Road, the tides are starting to churn for Sisilla and Thorin for she may be the greatest asset for them if they are to encounter the elves of the Woodland Realm.
After the company congratulated Thorin and Sisílla in their new courtship, which many were surprised it didn’t happen sooner, everyone settled in for the evening knowing that the Skinchanger was out, protecting his home from Azog and his pack. But it all was for nothing for Sisílla. As she laid on her bedroll, Thorin next to her, she began to whimper in her sleep quietly. Her head was lolling from side to side. Her words, although slurred, were Quenya. The ancient Elvish tongue. Thorin stirred from his sleep as he heard her speak in the Elvish language and looked over to see her in a cold sweat and her eyes clamped shut. Sitting up, he reached over to her only for her to thrash in his arms and let out a scream. Startling the company awake, everyone saw Sisílla struggle against Thorin which made everyone jump and try to help them both. But as everyone was out to help, Gandalf bellowed.
“Do not touch her!” His voice booming like thunder.
Everyone, including Thorin backed away from Sisílla as Gandalf came close to her and rested a hand on her forehead. Muttering under his breath, Sisílla slowly calmed and then jolted awake. Gasping for air as if she came out of the water.
“THORIN!” She called out in a panic.
Gandalf furrowed his brow and glanced over at the said Dwarf, nodding in approval for him to approach her. Taking only a few steps, Thorin was at her side and grasping her small and clammy hand in his own.
“Ghivashel, I’m here.” He reassured her as he brushed away the stray hairs that clung to her forehead.
All she could do was follow the length of his arm and finally hook around his neck to hold him close. Her free hand feeling across his face and lips for any evidence of injury. Everyone could only watch her as she was comforted by Thorin and whispering in Khuzdul that she was safe and well. Bilbo was heartbroken and confused at what was before him, but when he looked up to Gandalf, he noticed the wizard had a concerning look in his eyes even though he was trying to be calm. As everyone calmed down and went back to sleep, Thorin kept a close eye on his beloved as she finally fell back to sleep. Gandalf had watched the two, specifically Sisílla as she finally eased into a much needed sleep. Bilbo had made his way over to the wizard and followed his line of sight to Sisílla’s sleeping form.
“Is she going to be alright?” Bilbo asked, worry etched onto his features. He had grown fond of her, and she with him as they had many great conversations about where they lived, reading many books, and small adventures they had before following the great Thorin Oakenshield.
Gandalf snapped out of his many thoughts and looked down at the hobbit and flashed a warm smile, or as warm as he could muster. “She will be just fine, Bilbo. Now, get some rest. We have a long journey still ahead of us.”
With a slight nod, he began to head to his bedroll. But not before glancing over his shoulder and watching Thorin be so attentive to Sisílla. This was probably something Bilbo would have seen if Thorin was engaged… or courting. It was a nice change to see him like that. As he felt Gandalf staring at him, Bilbo wished him a good night and finally went to his bedroll. As Gandalf nodded at Bilbo, he turned his gaze back to Sisílla. Sleeping soundly and Thorin relaxed and with his eyes closed, Gandalf couldn’t help but wonder.
What did she see?
~Rivendell, 8 months ago~
“Are you absolutely sure that she will be safe?” Lord Elrond asked right after the White Councils meeting.
Gandalf huffed, unsure how to answer his good friend. Of course she was, she had the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Though, he hadn’t the slightest idea how well it would be taken for a woman such as herself to be in the midst of this treacherous journey. And with dwarves already being secretive and stubborn. Who knows how they would react. Especially Thorin! But she also had insight of what is yet to come, and she had such confidence in the young king. But could it be the infatuation that was blinding her deepest thoughts? It was most uncertain and he couldn’t give a direct answer for Lord Elrond or to himself.
The Elven Lord seemed to have had his answer, loud and clear. “Then it is settled, she stays in Rivendell.”
“My lord…”
“I cannot risk the life of her just so she can succumb to what her heart desires.” Lord Elrond started. “Gandalf, you know as well as I that the budding romance that she and Thorin has begun between them will never work. Not with her celibacy and her duties as the Oracle.”
“She knows of this as well. It is simply too risky for her to travel with the likes of Oakenshield. If anything was to happen to her, either it be from the Dragon, Azog, or worse. Then the fate of Middle-Earth may be in jeopardy.”
“I swear to you, no harm will come to Lady Sisílla. She is in the safest hands, if not within the company, then most certainly with myself.” Gandalf reasoned, although it was far out there.
~~
He knew it was a far cry to have her come, but Gandalf knew as well as her that she was destined to be at and in Erebor. Her place was there for however long. With a low and quiet sigh, he muddled over to his bedroll and carefully made himself comfortable before scanning across the large room. Counting each dwarf, then Bilbo, and then Sisílla. With validation that she was well tended to, the gray wizard soon drifted to sleep along with the others.
As morning came and unlikely introductions to their host, Beorn, the entire Company quietly gathered around the enormous large table to have breakfast and discuss where they were going to the Skinchanger. As he had asked about where they were heading off to and Gandalf being direct but also discreet, Beorn couldn’t help but wonder why a woman such as her standards were in a company of dwarves. Thorin, who had leaned against the enormous beam near Sisílla and Fíli glanced to Beorn and then to Sisílla.
“If I may ask why a woman such as she, in the presence of dwarves?” The Skinchanger asked with curiosity.
As Thorin straightened himself to defend Sisílla, she tilted her head in Beorn’s direction. “To help not only reclaim what was stolen from them, but to also help what is yet to come.”
Her words were something that caught everyone off guard. Especially Gandalf, and most definitely Thorin’s. Was there something that was yet to come and she had seen the outcome? What was it? Now they had more to worry about.
As they finally gained the assistance of Beorn to use his horses and ponies to ride to the Edge of Mirkwood. Sisílla and Gandalf spoke to Beorn in private, something Thorin, although against not being by her side, understood the reason. Eventually she would tell him. He hoped. With word of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur along with the orcs growing more and more with each passing moment, Sisílla shuddered and closed her eyes as Gandalf and Beorn continued. The vision she had was still fresh in her memory and the taste of death as raw as reality. Caught up with what her vision was, she was taken back to the present moment when she felt a rather large hand on her shoulder.
“What do you see, Sisílla? Seer of Middle-Earth?” The Skinchanger asked.
Gulping, Sisílla laid her tiny hands, compared to Beorn’s stature, on his forearms for support. “I see death… but life as well. It is too far off to give a clear answer. I am sorry.”
With a gentle grunt, Beorn guided her hands to Gandalf’s carefully. “You must go, while you still have the light."
And if on cue, the howls of wargs rang across the treetops. Sisílla rode with Gandalf as they and the Company galloped to the edges of Mirkwood. Her visions came back as they drew closer. A different vision, of cinders and fire destroying people. Sudden cold and wet feeling. And a pair of arms holding her to keep her warm. It wasn’t clear who it was, or where they were. She had more questions than answers once again. The last time was when she had her first dreams of Thorin. But now another man? Of Men!? Or was it an elf? The vision was in its infancy and she hated those types when things are not clear, but evident that it was important for her and the person she was to meet. Whoever it was, she had to clear her thoughts as they were getting closer to Mirkwood.
As the forest’s edge became visible, the company slowed to a halt and dismounted the horse and ponies. Thorin made his way to Sisílla who was looking out to the vast lands that they had just traveled and looked up at her. Her usual calm demeanor all but lost as her brows were knitted and her eyes looking so focused than he has ever seen them. Her hair windswept from the ride as some loose hairs fell out of her braid that he had worked on first thing in the morning. His crystal blue eyes followed down her arm to her hand where he could see that she was doing her best not to clench them. How he longed to know what she saw in the visions, just to share the burden with her so she wouldn’t have to be the only one to see what is yet to come. Was it maybe to gain some leverage on his enemies and maybe his own kingdom? Possibly. But to know that Sisílla was the only person across this land to have such a duty to all, he wanted her to be at ease and not be plagued by the visions.
Sliding his hand into her smaller one, Thorin could see how she visibly relaxed and smiled a smile of relief. He would never grow old of her smile which also placed in a sense of ease for the time being. But as soon as Bilbo commented on how the woods looked sick, Gandalf stated that he had other business elsewhere. Everyone was in shock, especially Sisílla for she knew who awaited for them in those woods. As Gandalf was about to gallop away on his horse, he looked over to Sisílla as she was now their guide and saving grace if anything was to happen.
“My lady, you must help them. Do not lose the path.” Gandalf informed.
Craning her head up, she furrowed her brows and looked as though she was panicking, and she was. Never had she guided anyone, it was someone guiding her. And to lead a group of dwarves, it was hard enough as it is just traveling.
“I can’t. You know that it’s redundant to have the blind leading the sighted.” She exclaimed.
“My lady, you will be their greatest asset if you are to meet with the elves.” He explained, knowing of her reputation among the elven kingdoms.
Lowering her head, she nodded and turned her head to where Thorin stood only to feel him squeeze her hand for reassurance. Gandalf knew she was not confident being on her own for being a diplomatic figure alone. But, he needed to make sure that Thorin and his short temper wouldn’t lead them to their doom. As Gandalf left, Thorin looked over to his men as they heard about Sisílla’s new role in guiding them along the Elven Road. Kneeling down, Sisílla unlaced her boots one by one and slid her socks off before placing her bare feet to the earth. Thorin slid her boots into her rucksack before guiding her to the stone flag path that was the Elven Road. Feeling the cold stone under her feet, she leaned down and touched the stone with her finger tips before looking straight ahead and standing upright.
“This way, and stay close. These woods are no longer safe.” She explained. ‘We are not alone…’
And off the company ventured into the depths of Mirkwood.
Word Count: 3530 Warnings: Fluff, Thorin (He is a warning you haters XD) Summary: After being chased out by orc packs day in and day out, and now a skinchanger on their tail. Gandalf sends the Company to the house of Beorn. Meanwhile, Thorin finally makes the decision to take the next step with Sisilla. One that he is afraid of hearing the answer in all honesty.
(A/N: If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know in the comments or in private message. Enjoy!)
A year into this journey to reclaim Erebor and it had already been many close calls, strength in friendship and comradery. And with Sisílla, it brought a new sense of adventure and challenges for Thorin. Balin was the first to really take interest with his king and his actions with the young woman. His constant hovering when it was nightfall, making sure she had at least two helpings of food and plenty of water, his blanket wrapped around her when everyone was asleep. Especially when it came to training, he made sure she was perfect, yet elegant. Never did Thorin harshly scold her, but gave her pointers and carefully touched her to make sure her stances were strong.
But what made Balin know that Thorin fancied the young lady was after a skirmish with a small Orc pack. Everyone was holding their own and Sisílla was fighting alongside Gandalf and Thorin. But something swept her off her feet, causing her to sprain her ankle. Thorin heard her cry and was able to ward off an orc and the warg it was riding. He immediately ordered those who were close to them to close ranks to protect her with Thorin staying the closest to her. After successfully defeating the orcs and wargs and finding a cave to hunker in for the night, Oín had tended to Sisílla’s injured ankle which was a minor sprain and some herbal tea would help her heal just fine. Thorin had bestowed one of his daggers to her and was able to pass it off as another way to protect herself, when in reality, it was a gift.
Thorin couldn’t fathom the thought of keeping his courting a secret from her. But it also made either easier at the same time. He was conflicted deeply, but he never wanted the thought of being turned away. They were meant to be, she had spoken about her dreams. Though not in great detail, he knew it was he she was dreaming of. But as they traveled farther, the less he could continue his traditional courting and had to make sure she was safe. As they traveled through gorges, Bilbo was sent to scout the area before them as it was an early morning. Thorin , Gandalf, Sisílla and the rest of the company awaited at the bottom as Orc packs were close by. Sisílla had a vision that they were not far and had awoken Thorin about it hence why the sun had barely kissed the sky with its warm rays. Sisílla had stuck close to Thorin, much to his pleasure, as they awaited for Bilbo to come back down.
Sisílla felt a hard chill run down her spine as something was coming to pass. Grasping Thorin’s shoulder, he glanced up to see her brows knitted tight as she looked distressed. Although he was concerned for his men, Sisílla was his top priority.
“What is it?” He asked, his voice low to not gain any attention from the others.
She shook her head, clearing her mind of the fog that was creeping from the depths of her consciousness. “I’m not sure. We mustn’t fall behind.”
“You are not well, my lady.” He chastised.
“I’m alright. Honest. If anything more happens, I promise to rest if need be.” She reassured, her silver gray eyes gazing past Thorin.
Although he was worried for her well-being, he knew that she was determined. With a slight nod, he grasped her hand in his own and quickly pressed his forehead against her own.
“Stay by my side.” Thorin said quickly, but softly.
He never wanted to sound desperate or beg, but his heart thundered in his chest for her safety. As they caught up with the rest of the company, they all met up with Bilbo who was looking as if he had seen a ghost, or a monster that was far more treacherous than the Dragon that they were aiming to slay.
“We have to leave.” Bilbo huffed.
“Were you seen?” Gandalf asked, worried that the hobbit may have been spotted by Azog.
Shaking his head, Bilbo confirmed that he was well hidden and bringing much relief to the company. But as Gandalf began to praise Bilbo of his quick and quiet scouting and being burglar material.
“No, no! I am trying to tell you. There is something out there.” The hobbit explained.
Gandalf’s cheery mood turned serious as he believed in the hobbit. “What form did it take? Like a bear?”
Everyone looked at Gandalf, as if he knew. And when Bilbo confirmed the wizards assumption, everyone began to try and think of a way to get away from this beast and the pack of orcs which were not far from them and the Company. Thorin grasped Sisílla’s hand tighter just in case they were needing to run. He could feel her pulse jump against his hand which only made him pull her closer to his side.
“There is a house, not far from here. Where we could take refuge.” Gandalf spoke, gaining everyone’s attention.
“Whose house? Are they friend or foe?” Thorin asked, already tired of these games and frustrated at their predicament.
“Neither. He will either help us… or kill us.” The wizard explained and casted his gaze to Sisílla who’s brows furrowed at his words.
Gandalf could only hope that their host would spare her life.
Thorin wasn’t going to take that chance, not for Sisílla, and most certainly not for his companions. “What choice do we have!?”
As if on cue, a large growl like howl rang through the twilight morning air making everyone but Gandalf jump and try to look around for the source of the sound. It wasn’t long until they were running down to the valleys and forest below. Gandalf led the way, the company in tow and Sisílla staying in the middle of everyone. Fíli and Kíli were constantly flanking her, nudging and guiding her as they ran for shelter. Thorin had made rounds, running alongside his fellow men to make sure no one was being left behind. Suddenly, Sisílla had tripped on an upturned root, causing her to fall and roll down a steep slope which had several of the dwarves chasing after her, checking her over before getting her back to her feet. Dwalin and Bofur, and Dori behind her, were guiding her as they finally got out of the cover of the forest and out into the open fields to where a house awaited them.
Thorin had finally caught up with Sisílla and grasped her hand, now dragging her to safety as the rest of the company took charge. Getting closer and closer, the sound of a large and monstrous creature made everyone scramble to get the doors opened.
“Open the door!” Gandalf ordered as he came running in last.
Thorin looked behind him and saw the beast and pushed Sisílla behind him, Orcist in hand and getting her to the door first. He unlatched the doors where everyone rushed in. Sisílla ran a few steps away so everyone could file in before spinning on her heels and unsheathing her sword and dagger. The sound of the beast snarling and growling hit her ears, causing her to shudder where she stood as the Company worked together to get the door closed. Her heart was pounding in her head, causing her to get slightly dizzy from the adrenaline and fear coursing through her veins that she failed to hear that the beast was Beorn, the Skinchanger and their host. Though the Company were fearful that this Beorn would find a way to kill them, they all took advantage to collect themselves, recover and rest. Sisílla had sheathed her sword and dagger and walked over to Gandalf who was looking out to the yard where the great door still stayed open to the large field that they had just ran across not too long ago.
As she felt the wall from her outstretched hand, she leaned her back against the wall and let out an exhausted sigh. “What are we to do now? You know that we are close to darkness that even I cannot foresee.”
With his pipe out, he let out an approving and low hum before igniting the pipeweed and taking a few short puffs to start the slow burning. “We need safe passage through Mirkwood. To take the Elven road for safe passage.”
“Is it the only way? Couldn’t we take them down to the outskirts of Rohan and follow up river to-”
“My lady, we don’t have much time. Durin’s Day is only a week away, at best.” Gandalf interrupted.
Her eyes, though unfocused, casted down to the hay covered floor below. Time was short, and to see that they were nowhere close to the mountain meant that the prophecy was going to fail. Gandalf seemed to have taken notice at her sudden sullen appearance. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave her a warm smile that even she couldn’t help but return one, albeit a smaller version.
“We will make it, my lady. Now, rest up and have something to eat. We are safe for the night.” He said before waving Bilbo over.
“Is everything alright?” The hobbit asked as he made his way over to them.
Sisílla reached over to him and felt his small hand guide her hand to his shoulder. “Could you walk me back to the others, please?”
“Of course, right this way.” Bilbo piped as he was very careful in explaining every little detail of where she was walking.
It didn’t take much until both Bilbo and Sisílla were discussing crocheting and their favorite pastime. Reading. Everyone made rounds to check on the perimeter in and around the home before they could settle for the day. Thorin, of course, made sure that Sisílla was well, hydrated and given the first serving before everyone else. As the sun began to set over the trees, most of the Company were in good spirits. Although quiet, they felt more secure than being out in the wilderness for the moment. They were singing an old shanty in Khuzdul, the dwarven language, and dancing with Sisílla. For a blind girl, she followed with such grace and elegance. Barefoot and feeling the thump, thump, thump of her companions stomping a beat to the soft hay covered floor, it was a merry time for everyone. Thorin, sitting with Balin and Gandalf, watched with a small smirk as she danced with laughter and song filling the air. How her hair, once in a tight braid, now free from its binds and flowing like liquid silver and starlight. Her sight less eyes gleaming with joy, and a smile that took his breath away each and every moment. Balin smiled at the young king, almost proud like a father would be with his son, that Thorin had finally met his One and had her with him during the journey.
As the Company finally let Sisílla rest and laughed at how Nori looked like “a flapping trout out of the creek,” Thorin rose from his spot, his pipe nestled between his lips as he grabbed his water skin and walked over to Sisílla who was sitting on a large pile of hay. As he made his way over to her, he knew that it had to be tonight for another moment of real relaxation and not fearing of orc packs was becoming much more scarce. As he approached her, he cleared his throat causing Sisílla to smile and turn her head to face his general direction.
“My king… why aren’t you enjoying these festivities?” She asked, reaching out instinctively to grab his arm or hand.
Clever girl she was, always ready to be on the move and her head figuratively on a swivel. Thorin smiled a little wider before guiding her hand to his water skin. “I am.” He said. “But you looked parched from the dancing. I must say, you have my utmost respect for your grace and light feet.”
A bright blush blossomed to her already flushed cheeks as she grasped the skin and plucked the cap off before taking a couple sips of water. And she had noticed since then. His compliments, how he was making sure she was cared for and tended to, made sure she had privacy monthly and when they all had a chance to properly bathe. Wherever she was, he was close by. Like a shadow to the naked eye, but for her like a shield that she couldn’t go without. He was her oaken shield. The names that he called her. Ghivashel, badgûna, and his favorite when they were alone at night when everyone was asleep but them, amrâlimê. She had asked him many times what they meant only to receive gentle reassurance that they are nothing ill-will towards her. But high praises.
Thorin couldn’t help but be marveled by her innocence and beauty once again, being captivated in her eyes and smile. But both seemed to have jumped slightly as the company howled with laughter after Bofur and Kíli had apparently played a joke on Dori. Clearing his throat once again, he leaned close to her and whispered as he didn’t want any prying ears to listen to them.
“May I take you for a stroll? I have not kept my end of our promise.” He asked and pulled away to see her smiling brightly.
Raising her hand to him, Thorin happily helped her to her feet and escorted her to the gardens that encircled the rather large house that they took refuge in. The sun had all but set and the beautiful hues of blues and violets danced with the twinkling stars in the night sky. The cool air was a relief compared to the warmth inside, and the sounds of the crickets and distant woodland creatures was peaceful compared to wargs and the bear-like beast. Thorin began to explain the land to Sisílla before seating her on a small stump. He stood beside her, facing the beautiful moon that hung low in the sky. Tonight had to be perfect for this moment. As quietly as he could, he slipped his hand into his coat to retrieve something that he made when he was a young lad and could swing a hammer in the forge. Feeling the cold little piece of metal and grasping it snug in his palm, Thorin took a deep breath to calm his nerves and his speeding heart. As he opened his mouth to speak, Sisílla spoke.
“May I ask you something, Thorin?”
“Anything, milady.” He responded. “What troubles you?”
“These names you give me, I never hear you speak about them to your nephews, nor your men.” Sisílla started.
With a thick gulp, Thorin felt like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar when he was a pebble. But she continued.
“I know that they mean a type of endearment. I heard them before we met in my dreams. Amrâlimê, you have called me that name time and time again. And I want to know what it means.” She stated. Although her voice was steady and even, he knew that she was frustrated. And rightfully so.
With a gentle sigh, Thorin nodded and took a breath. This was much more difficult than he anticipated. But he had to.
“It means ‘my love.’ A very sacred endearment amongst my people towards our One. Our soulmate. Someone that I… I have met ever since stepping into Rivendell and even before that.” Thorin stated.
“Thorin…”
“Please, my lady.” Thorin exhaled. “For many years, I have never thought that I, myself… would ever find my One. But I was deeply mistaken. Mahal, I believed, cursed me with many dreams of a woman in silver and white. Not of any dwarven kingdom, but of men. I knew she could never see me, but with her breathtaking smile and her eyes far more precious than the White Gems of Lasgalen, I was taken. Mahal blessed me, night after night, dreams of my badgûna. Showing me a little more of her. And soon I found out, it was you.”
“I knew it, I could feel not only in my bones, but my heart. No other woman has ever set my heart ablaze when I saw you descending those stairs back in Rivendell. I never knew that I would have fallen for such a deity. An Oracle. And when we had to leave, I wanted you to come. Be selfish and take you to Erebor. But I was fearful that you would be taken or harmed in a way I could never protect you from. And now… You’re here. A brave warrior, a woman that I have grown the most respect for. One that I want to grow old with and a woman who has captivated me, mind, heart, and soul. And so, I wish…”
Thorin froze, looking at her and locking her eyes with his. The bead in hand, in his clammy hand. He shook his head to shake off the nerves and fear of rejection. What will happen, will happen. Reaching out, Thorin grasped her hand in his and brought it to his lips where he left a soft and warm kiss. A soft gasp emitted from Sisílla which made Thorin glance through his lashes to see a pretty blush dusting her cheeks and a shy smile adorning her lips. Guiding her hand, Thorin pressed her palm to his bearded cheek and leaned down to rest his forehead against her own; resting a hand on her soft cheek and embracing this tender and intimate moment. Sisílla’s eyes fluttered closed and her smile grew wider with glee.
“Will you accept me for who I am and allow me to court you, my lady?” Thorin asked, almost in a whisper as if his words would be taken by a breeze and spread across the land.
Nodding her head, Sisílla smiled. “It would be my honor, my king.”
If only she could see how bright and big his smile was. He knew she could feel his cheeks shifting from his smile, but he wanted for her to see his smile. But his thoughts were cut short when he felt her lips press lightly on his cheek. It was the first time she showed affection to him, at least this intimate. And it made his own heart soar. Leaning closer, he brushed his nose across her cheekbone before pressing a soft kiss to her own cheek and pulled away to smile down at her. Sisílla smiled back and giggled before following the length of his arm down to his hands where he captured and held them snug in his larger ones.
“What now?” She asked, a little lost as she had never been courted and knew of only the courting rituals of Elven culture.
“Now, if you would allow, may I braid my courting brain and bead?” He asked.
With a small nod from her, Thorin smiled and sat next to her on the small stump and ran his fingers through her silvery white hair. It was like fine silk threads between his calloused fingers, something he was going to treasure greatly. His fingers parted a few sections of hair and he began the braid. Silence and patience, Throin was nimble but steady with his braid. He knew that the Company would know. They all probably know that they are missing. But it didn’t matter, he was with his One and fulfilling a great task to court the Oracle and his one love. As he came to the end of her hair where he could no longer braid, he slid the bead on and anchored it in place before laying her braid over her shoulder.
Sisílla instantly ran her fingers across the plaited hair and could feel the intricate four stranded braid and at the end, a small but intricate bead holding it in place. His fingers carded through her soft strands once more, making her lean into his touch and hum in such content. Thorin smiled broadly and leaned over to press a kiss to her temple gently before standing and gently helping her to her feet. Looping her arm with his, they strolled through the garden side by side with such euphoria and a new found love. As they made their way around, Dwalin shimmied from his perch near one of the small windows and was grinning from ear to ear. Making his way back to the others, Bofur was the first to rush to the old dwarf.
“What is it? Did they make it official?!” The dwarf asked.
Balin nodded a firm nod. “Aye, Thorin has his One, and his future Queen.”
The entire company roared with joy and celebration. So much so that Thorin and Sisílla stopped their stroll and looked towards the house. Tilting her head to try and listen with no avail, Thorin chuckled as he knew that his men found out. With reassurance that it was nothing serious and to be merry, both Thorin and Sisílla walked in only to be congratulated by everyone of the courtship.
I have some small fics I want to post… but this is for one of the sequals for Forsaken and I don’t want to spoil anything… but I want to post them sooooo bad…
Forsaken being a gloomy and dreary race, it is expected that many of them prefer to don darker attire. While that is true for the most part, many Undead also prefer to stay in the clothes that they wore in their previous life as well, one such being Nathanos Marris (before getting his transformation).
Formal attire (dresses/robes):
Casual attire:
More-less sporty:
Interesting! Some Forsaken in the Undercity wore blue attire, according shade of azure that was typical to the colours of Lordaeron.
From the previous life:
Some cool tabard I found haha:
( Headcanon ! )
I imagine that the Undead use this cream as a moisturiser, prefenting their flesh from further decaying:
Editor’s Note:“Some of the tales you’ll encounter here may be rooted in canon, or they may be another traveler just telling a tall tale.”
Eyes of the Earth Mother
Though the Earth Mother heard the whispers of the Old Gods, she could not be swayed by them (13).
Pregnant, the Earth Mother sought a place away from the Old Gods’ corruptive influence to give birth to her children. Unable to find such a place, however, she decided to shape the world and, in doing so, create her own safe haven (14).
All of Azeroth’s lands, waters, and even the elements themselves came forth at this moment. They were suffused with enough of the Earth Mother’s essence so soon after their inception that they kept the Old Gods’ powers at bay (14).
The Earth Mother gave birth to twins: first An’she, a beacon of life and warmth, then came Mu’sha, who was to bring rest, tranquility, and healing. The elements called them the “sun” and the “moon” (15).
Eventually, both An’she and Mu’sha developed connections with the elements. An’she found himself able to wield the light and warmth of fire while Mu’sha maintained some control over the tides and winds (15-16).
The twins even went so far as to use the elements to create weapons to spar with. Mu’sha opted for a bow and arrow, whereas An’she’s weapon of choice was a set of blades (16).
To keep her children safe from the Old Gods’ ever-present influence while she slept, the Earth Mother took both An’she and Mu’sha up into her eyes. Their power was so great that she had to keep one eye open at all times (16).
This, however, meant that Azeroth no longer received An’she’s warmth or Mu’sha’s guidance of the wind while the Earth Mother rested. Cold slowly spread across the land and blizzards raged until she finally woke again (18).
The Earth Mother’s cycle between periods of sleep and awakening would come to form the basis of the seasons as we know them, with her time of work the summer and her time of rest the winter (18).
As the twins grew in power, they developed the ability to bring on the change of seasons at will, though they took care to do it slowly and give the world time to adjust. As the Earth Mother rested, An’she and Mu’sha continued to tend to Azeroth from behind her eyes (19).
After waking at one point, the Earth Mother found that there was new life walking the earth. Plucking wheat from the plains to sprinkle over them, the Earth Mother called them “Shu’halo,” - the tauren (19).
Just as the Earth Mother taught her children, both An’she and Mu’sha taught the Shu’halo in the ways of the elements and caring for the land (20).
When the Earth Mother next slept, however, the Old Gods extended their influence to the tauren, causing them to grow violent and turn on their own kind (20).
Saddened to see the tauren fall to such corruption, the Earth Mother shed a single tear. She realized that the land was no longer able to hold the Old Gods’ power at bay, meaning anything it touched could be corrupted (21).
Knowing that she was not safe for her children anymore because of her own connection to the land, the Earth Mother removed An’she and Mu’sha from her eyes and laid down in despair (21-22).
The single tear that the Earth Mother had shed became a blue baby, later named “Lo’sho,” or the Blue Child (22, 24).
Seeking to put an end to the Old Gods after what they had done to the tauren and the despair they instilled in their mother, An’she and Mu’sha fought against some of the eldritch beings’ manifestations. During the battle, An’she was wounded grievously. Though Mu’sha sought to heal him with wind and water, he continued to bleed (24).
The Earth Mother, stirred by her distant children’s dismay, eventually found her way to them. She urged them to take Lo’sho and go to the heavens so they could protect Azeroth from above, while the Earth Mother chose to root herself in the earth and prevent the Old Gods from ever claiming her children (26-27).
Mu’sha, the moon, continues to follow An’she closely across the sky so she can keep tending to his wounds (26).
One Small Tuskarr
The tuskarr etch their clan and family symbols into their tusks. Though this is customary, some do engrave other symbols - such as marks indicating deeds of great distinction - into their tusks as well (32, 36).
The catch master, who weighs the tuskarr’s catches, has a counting staff adorned with cords in the colors of each of the clan’s active fishermen. In accordance with how big a tuskarr’s haul of fish is, the catch master ties a single knot or more into their respective cord. These knots can be traded for tools, weapons, and coins, among other things (32-33).
A single knot is customary for those who meet basic requirements, while additional knots are allotted to those who catch more (33).
One can also earn knots from other tasks, such as fine embroidery, though they do so at a much slower rate than those who fish (38).
Food is shared equally among the tuskarr (33).
The tuskarr perform nomadic journeys that take them to various kalu’ak towns. While the fishers take their own boats, most of the mothers, adolescents, and children trek across the ice (34).
Fishing practices are passed down from parent to child. Though it is unclear if that is “law,” some of the tuskarr refuse to teach others to fish if they are not their own blood, going so far as to withhold information about the currents and places fish gather (36).
Tuskarr sometimes dye their moustaches (36).
It never gets fully dark in Northrend (38).
Oacha’noa is the tuskarr’s deity of both the sea and wisdom. Her symbol is that of a kraken (39).
The spearhead on most tuskarr weapons is made of sharpened bone (42).
A type of manta ray known as the stargazer can be found in Northrend’s waters (44).
The tuskarr can survive in water so cold it would kill other races native to Azeroth in mere minutes (45).
The tuskarr typically fly kites for fun, though they have been known to use them to send signals to others at great distances (48).
Lay Down My Bones
According to Vulpera beliefs, the first of their kind was born from the magic of the desert. Though they are a nomadic people, an old tale about an artifact called the Wailing Bone claims the desert calls their bodies back to where they began when they die. To ensure they find their way back, the vulpera follow the Wailing Bone (55-56).
Once one of their own has passed, it is customary for the next of kin to carry the bone at the head of the caravan while the vulpera wander in search of the proper place to bury them. The journey may take anywhere from days to weeks, but when the Wailing Bone begins to cry, the vulpera know they have found their loved one’s final resting place (56, 61).
A poem is carved into the Wailing Bone: “Wander, roam; bring me home, / Down paths at my behest; / Among the stones, lay down my bones, / So I, at last, may rest”. Few can read the script it is written in, but most all vulpera can recite it from heart (54).
Two vulpera, frustrated at their inability to find their elder’s final resting place, neglected their duty and left his corpse in a river in the hopes that it would bring him there for them. Refusing to obey the Wailing Bone caused it to crack. From that night on, the vulpera of the caravan found themselves cursed for failing to heed the Wailing Bone (62, 65).
Cracking under the pressure of the curse, the two negligent vulpera ultimately died gruesome deaths at each other’s hands. One of their bones was made into the next Wailing Bone (65).
A caravan always needs a Wailing Bone (65).
The Uninvited Guest
One goblin adage goes like so: “Every great goblin invention was born from necessity, bubble gum, or an accident” (69).
The goblins have a nursery rhyme: “In the dark of night and bright of day, / Keep in your hand a tossaway. / Guard your fortune, mind your greed, / Or else the Uninvited Guest will feed” (70).
The Uninvited Guest is a goblin boogeyman of sorts who is attracted by greed so egregious it offends even the dead. It is incorporeal, invisible, and has the ability to move through walls (76).
The Uninvited Guest feeds off of greed, but it can never be satisfied. It will latch onto its host like an invisible parasite to feed, inciting strange charitable behavior in them until they have given away all of their earthly possessions (76-79).
A “tossaway” is a shiny gold-painted coin stamped with the face of the very first trade prince. These fake coins get their name from the way goblins quite literally toss them away in a symbolically superstitious act to protect themselves and their fortunes from the Uninvited Guest (70, 74).
Tossaways were invented by Slixi Boompowder, the wife of one of the former trade princes of the Steamwheedle Cartel, after her own run-in with the Uninvited Guest. She only escaped from it because she distracted it with actual gold galleons, which inspired her to create the tossaways (83).
Legend has it that the Uninvited Guest still roams Azeroth to this day, looking to feed off of hapless greedy goblins (84).
Klaxz Boompowder was one of the former trade princes of the Steamwheedle Cartel. His rival was Rikter Hogsnozzle, the trade prince of the Bilgewater Cartel (70-71).
Tradition dictates that goblins are buried with their most valuable possessions so they can enjoy them at the Everlasting Party, the goblin afterlife. They are then given burial gifts by other goblins from their own riches, though most goblins are too greedy to truly part with anything important (73).
Once the coffin is sealed, goblins dance on top of it to usher the deceased on to the Everlasting Party (75).
Prominent goblins typically serve as pallbearers while goblins contractually obligated to serve as pack mules carry the rear (75).
The goblins used to employ golden galleons as their form of currency, but it fell out of fashion. Nowadays, they are incredibly rare and expensive (74-75).
Trolls have a tale about an invisible evil that sucks the souls from living beings and leaves them mad. It can only be seen in the light of a full moon (80).
Sister is Another Word For Always
Vereesa felt Sylvanas’ death at the hands of Arthas the moment it happened (89-90).
Sylvanas’ eyes were gray as a high elf (91).
In the midst of her sorrow at her sister’s death, Vereesa sought many escapes. At first she tried to sleep, but when rest and forgetfulness would not come, she embarked on a journey across deserts and forests with little in the way of proper food or nourishment except that which she found (90, 93).
It is very possible Vereesa perished at some point on this journey, for she came across a spirit healer, though she was told it was not yet her time. The spirit healer offered Vereesa a deal: if she could bring her the willing soul of Sylvanas without ever touching her, the spirit healer would restore her to life (96-97).
When Sylvanas first died at the hands of Arthas, it seems as though the Arbiter sent her to Ardenweald (98-99).
After she struggles to locate her sister in Ardenweald, Vereesa is inadvertently pulled into the Maw. There, she still has difficulty finding her, and is told by the Jailer that Sylvanas is not there - at least, not yet. He then urges her to leave, telling her she does not belong there (99, 102-103).
Eventually, Vereesa spots a silver glimmer she knows to be Sylvanas, though it is only a fragment of her soul (103-104).
Before she can escape with the soul of her sister, the Jailer stops Vereesa and inadvertently tricks her into touching Sylvanas, rendering her deal with the spirit healer null and void (106).
At the end of this journey, Vereesa awakes at the foot of a statue, her memory of the experience hazy (109).
The Paladin’s Beast
Uther is originally from Stratholme (117).
Introduced as a fable beloved by the princelings and princesses of Lordaeron, the Paladin’s Beast is a tale that follows a young Uther as he finds himself in a mysterious and unfamiliar land. Determined to prove himself and bring back a prize to his fellow paladins, Uther joins a tournament put on by a foreign kingdom despite the protests of its princess. Though he is a strong warrior, she insists the beast of the tournament kills every knight who challenges it. Still, Uther refuses to back down, confident that his faith in the Light will give him the strength he needs to prevail. However, the princess’ words hold true, as every knight who goes to fight the beast before him perishes. When it is his turn, Uther decides to stay his hammer rather than fight, remembering the princess’ words. The beast withdraws, defeated by his act of compassion. It is revealed afterward as Uther goes for his prize that the princess actually was the beast all along, cursed to fight in the tournament for disobeying her father and breaking the royal lineage. She casts a spell on Uther, making it so that when he returns to Lordaeron, he will not remember anything of who she was or his experience there until the day he finds himself in a fiery field. Though the fable ends there, it is said that Uther dreamt of the silver kingdom and its princess for many years to come. It was not until his final moments, trying to fell a beast with weapons rather than compassion, that he would fully remember the princess and her story (111-127).
For Lies and Liberty
Most undead do not get all of their memories back immediately once they are raised (or given free will). It takes time and encouragement (133-134).
On the long-standing issue of whether or not undead have ichor or blood running through their veins, it appears one Jeremiah Pall still has blood in his body, though it has stopped moving on account of his still heart (134).
The story of the “Fearless Flyer” - a man known as Captain Whitney - is famous among some of the Alliance forces. According to the man himself, Whitney and his outfit had been fighting orcs for months to no avail when he hatched a bold plan to launch himself by catapult into their camp and take them by surprise, hence the nickname the “Fearless Flyer”. This story, unfortunately, turned out to be nothing but hyperbole. As it stands, a drunk Whitney accidentally got tangled up in nets, fell in the catapult, and was unceremoniously flung into the orcish camp. Believing themselves to be under attack, the orcs retaliated and killed most of the unsuspecting humans while Captain Whitney hid (136, 142).
Stones, Moss, and Tears
Though female elves traditionally mark their faces after they have achieved a rite of passage, they can continue to add embellishments to commemorate any further deeds (155).
At least one kaldorei lorekeeper was charged with knowing the name of every Sentinel and recording details of their more noteworthy battles (156).
The Bloomblade druids were one of the oldest, unbroken lines of night elf druids (158).
A species of insect known as glowmoths migrate through Mount Hyjal every autumn (164).
The Embrace
The White Lady and the Sun were charged with keeping watch over Azeroth as it dreamed (171, 176).
Though she loved the people of Azeroth dearly, the White Lady found herself growing lonely and in want of a family (173).
The moon cycles are thought to be the White Lady turning away and hiding her face in her sorrow, though she would always look back upon Azeroth to watch over it (174).
It is said that the White Lady loved Azeroth and its denizens so much that a child - the Blue Child - was born of that love (174-175).
The Blue Child, ever curious, began asking the White Lady questions about the mortals that weighed on her heart, as she could not answer (176).
One night the White Lady woke up to find the Blue Child gone. Unable to find her, she swore off her charge until the Blue Child was returned to her (177-178).
Without her guidance, the planet sped up and the tides ceased. The White Lady was only convinced to return to her duty after the Sun urged her, telling her the Blue Child might return if she had the moonlight to guide her (178).
The White Lady began to glow even more brightly over time in the hopes that her child would see, her light quickly growing to rival that of the Sun’s. This, too, caused problems, for crops burned and navigators could not see the stars to travel by (179).
Upon seeing the terrible effect this was having on Azeroth’s denizens, the White Lady dimmed her light and retreated (181).
The Blue Child ultimately returned from her long travels to her mother. They embraced in the sky, creating a beautiful eclipse (182).
Ever curious, the Blue Child was bound to grow restless again and leave for the stars, but the White Lady knew she would always return (183).
When the moon turns red, it is a sign of her anger (177).
Why the Mermaids Left Boralus
Back when Kul Tiras was still a Gilnean colony, Boralus had hardly any walls or structures protecting it from the wind or sea. More often than not, when the Great Sea churned at the city’s edge, it took houses, ships, and even men down into its depths. So many would drown in these incidents that those remaining covered them with weighted nets, causing them to sink to the seafloor (187-188, 190).
Many of the roads out of Boralus flooded during great storms, making it deadly to try to leave the city on foot or by ship (198).
The Kul Tirans declined to build a seawall for fear that it would have done nothing and also because repairing it after a storm would have been just as dangerous as the storms themselves (188).
Most of Boralus’ early inhabitants were seamen of some sort, whether fishers, sea priests, sailors, or pearl-divers (188).
During storms, the tidesages would act as a makeshift seawall and use their power to cut the waves before they made it deeper into the harbor (199).
Mermaids appeared quite openly near Boralus in its early days. Though they lived much deeper than most could naturally dive, they liked to sit on the rocks and watch ships go by, among other things. Most lived in temples beneath the sea that belonged to Kul Tiras’ former inhabitants (189, 191).
According to superstition, sighting a mermaid was bad luck and presaged many inauspicious things including a doomed voyage, a brutal winter, and poor fishing. They were also seen as the harbingers of storms (189-190).
Tidesages were (and still are) always the first and last to disembark from a ship. As a result, they usually went down with their ships (191).
The tidesages’ unrivaled dedication, combined with the frequency of drownings and shipwrecks, often meant they died young (191).
Mermaids are spawned from eggs and leave no corpses when they die (191, 203).
The mermaids had very little understanding of the Kul Tirans’ mistrust towards them (191).
Mermaids have some power over the rocks and water - granted to them by the Tidemother from birth -, but they use it sparingly because it is finite. Once a mermaid runs out of magic, they die. As a result, mermaids can live up to five hundred years (192).
Mermaids consider sirens lazy and murlocs deplorable (192).
According to legend, the bubble seaweed in Boralus Harbor is actually discarded pearls. A mermaid by the name of Halia fell in love with a tidesage and kept secretly gifting them to her as a token of her affection. The tidesage, Ery, was far too pragmatic for such a gift and dumped the pearls back in the water every time (195).
The mermaids believe that the Tidemother will give tails to those who slit their feet from toes to heels and walk into the harbor at dawn (197).
According to legend, Boralus’ great stone seawall was formed through the combined efforts of dozens of mermaids and one lone tidesage. A virulent tempest had come upon Boralus one day, taking men and ships alike with it. Though the city’s tidesages gathered to push back the waves, all but one were lost to the storm over the course of five long days. The last remaining tidesage, Ery, persisted despite her exhaustion while the mermaid Halia, too afraid to watch her lover perish, began using her own magic to craft a seawall. Though the storm repeatedly broke it down, her fellow mermaids joined her, ultimately expending their magic and sacrificing themselves to raise a wall so grand it towered over even the mightiest of ships and waves. Ery herself nearly died after this, though Halia saved her by invoking the Tidemother. She cut Ery’s feet from toes to heels and dragged her into the harbor, performing the ritual necessary for her transformation into a mermaid (198-203).
All but one of the mermaids - Ery notwithstanding - perished to save Boralus, which is why none are seen there today (204-205).
As a result, the sailors of Boralus now see mermaids as a symbol of the highest honor, good luck, and sacrifice (205).
During calm sunsets when the red of the sky is reflected in the harbor, sailors refer to it as “Ery’s blood,” after the tidesage who fought the storm so valiantly. Ery’s blood is a sign of good weather to come (205).
The Courageous Kobold and the Wickless Candle
Kobolds tell a sleep-time story (209).
Kobold families live together in caves. They have their own nests, but congregate in common areas for stories, among other things (210).
Some time ago, the Whiskersnoot kobold tunnels crumbled, submerging the Whiskersnoots in total darkness. They lived like that for generations, having decided it was no longer safe to dig higher after the cave-in. This spawned a saying: “Never pick above your snout, else the darkness snuff you out!” (210-211).
Granny Whiskersnoot, however, dug just a little bit upward every day until one day she broke through to a light above. She intended to lead the other kobolds to it, but could never find her way back through the tunnels again. It wasn’t until her granddaughter persisted in finding it that they made their way back above ground (211, 222).
The kobolds think of the sun as a “Wickless Candle” (211).
Visage Day
On a dragon’s Visage Day, they choose what mortal form they will take. This is significant, as it shows the Aspects trust them to adopt the guise of one of the mortal races and walk among them. It is the dragons’ hope that through choosing a form to embody and relate to mortals, the more mortals can understand dragons in turn (228, 234).
Onyxia, on the other hand, maintains dragons choose visages that allow them to control the mortals (241).
In accordance with tradition, the Visage Day ceremony occurs on the uppermost level of Wyrmrest Temple. Each of the Aspects are usually present for members of their own dragonflight, though Alexstrasza herself has been known to officiate on occasion. It is also customary for each flight to send emissaries (243).
During the ceremony, all attendant dragons take their own mortal forms in honor of the dragon whose Visage Day it is (245).
Before they publicly choose their form, the dragon in question traditionally makes a proclamation (245).
The Visage Day ceremony can be delayed (244).
Nozdormu has helped many bronze dragons prepare for their own Visage Day (230).
When Nozdormu sits in the sands at the heart of the Bronze Dragonshine, intricate patterns form around him (233).
Both Kalecgos and Chromie performed a short incantation to assume their mortal forms, though Nozdormu did not appear to need to (234, 236, 246).
Kalecgos says that he chose a half-elf form - which he calls a “blend of mortal worlds” - in order to symbolize his own attempt to blend together the dragon and human worlds (237).
Onyxia, on the other hand, opted to take the form of a beautiful human woman to better manipulate mortals (241).
The dragons often go by nicknames in their mortal forms because they find their full names sound too formal to humans (238).
The drakonid were fashioned by the dragons to be helpful and loyal (238).
The black dragonflight practices how best to inflict pain (239).
Quiet Places is a series of maps that mark suitable roleplay locations with little to no NPCs. They’ll be categorized as follows; Home - Closed buildings with a homey exterior ideal for walk up. ‘Open’ Home - Also a homey building but with actual openings or rooms. Camps - Refugee or relief tents along with supplies nearby. Merchant - Areas or caravans perfect for merchant or trading roleplay. Sacked - Destroyed, burning and pillaged buildings, streets or trading stalls. Forsaken - Places ‘claimed’ or occupied by the forsaken. Event - Miscellaneous areas that are heavily themed and may be perfect for certain rp scenarios.
Gilneas is a completely empty capital, making it an absolute favorite roleplay city for more than just Worgen. The only animated models you’ll find here are creaky windows, birds and other players. (I’m serious, not even a critter!) Blizzard’s art team outdid themselves with this Victorian grimdark atmosphere and haunted ghost-town. So come one come all edgelords and ladies!
Light’s Dawn Cathedral is the largest walk-up and event location by far. But many other areas are frequented like Greymane’s Court and some of Merchant Square. That being said, Gilneas is a complicated piece of in-game architecture. Some windows, ledges and buildings you can’t even access while other spots are purposefully tucked away. A frustrating place to explore but awesome to RP in. There are TONS of quiet buildings and spaces where people don’t seem to go or know about.
You’ll find mostly Alliance side roleplay here, but I’ve stumbled upon a few blood elves and the rare Forsaken. Honestly it’s a shame I haven’t come across more Horde side guild events taking place in Gilneas - there’s a nice chunk of the city heavily themed for our darkest lady. Not to mention it’s far easier to get to for Horde! Trust me! So, to all roleplayers, consider making an event or a casual RP night in Gilneas some time soon! Or just head on over for some of that nice, dark setting.
P.S. Mother of GOD it’s done!!! Sorry for the wait everyone, getting a new job has taken a lot of my focus and energy these days! Let me know if the lack of coordinates bothers anyone! Silvermoon is up next~
A tribute to my favorite Destiny location going away to the vault.I meant to finish it before it officially went away in time for the new expansion, but I kept forgetting about it.I will miss it terribly.
Calia and Jaina have gotten the best redesigns this expansion, no matter how up & down bfa has been generally, the ladies are looking better than ever! And I am HERE for potential changes to both the forsaken and the factions!
Ordered some new biz cards and a sweet banner! Still evolving our logo and social media so they are a little different than our previous cards. Thank goodness we know so many talented photographers who make us look good ❤️ by: @projectbazooka, @fiveringsphoto and @infinityspiralphotography ❤️❤️ #cosplay #eggsisters #eggsisterscosplay #eggsistersfx #bigwhitebazooka #fiveringsphotography #infinityspiralphotography #warcraft #wow #undead #forsaken #overwatch #reinhardt #blackhardt #bloodborne #eileenthecrow #vicaramelia #diablo #d3 #diablo3 #tragoulsavatar #blizzard #blizzcon #vistaprint #fx #makeup #hashtag @blizzard @playoverwatch @diablo @warcraft
