It is not like Éowyn to be late, Théoden mused. Then, taking a deep draw from the goblet in his hand, he reconsidered. Is it? Who am I to know?
She had grown into a woman before his eyes, and yet he had no memory of the change. Not for the first time in the past weeks, he cursed Grima Wormtongue under his breath. His mind and body had been all but stolen, and now his dear niece seemed a stranger to him.
As did her brother.
The king peered at his nephew across the table. The boy—the man, Théoden corrected himself—favored his father so greatly a quick glance found them indistinguishable. But he did not speak with the ease and familiarity that Théoden had shared with Éomund, who had been his brother in heart long before marriage had reunited the branches of the House of Eorl by law. The King had dared to hope for something similar for his son and nephew—one to wisely rule the realm and the other to bravely defend it. Alas, fate was a fickle mistress.
Dark days had hardened his nephew, no longer a foolhardy youth but instead a stern commander of his éored. Upon joining the table, Éomer had greeted the king with manners befitting a Marshal of the Mark, delivered reports on the comings and goings of Rohan’s riders, and then fallen silent as he focused on filling his goblet and savoring its contents.
It had not always been like this. How had they fallen so far?
Continue Reading on FF.netorAO3 OR Start from the Beginning on FF.netorAO3
I’m super stoked to be sharing some new content for this story!
Tagging a few people who might be particularly interested in this update: (If you want to be added or dropped from any future tagging for Rose of Gondor, please let me know!)
Returning to the waking world was like fighting that cursed river all over again. Time and again, Rimiriel would rise to the very edge of consciousness. Time and again, the clawed grasp of heavy slumber would drag her back beneath the surface. She tumbled and twisted in the undercurrent of dark dreams filled with fire, blood and death. When she finally breached the surface of awareness and managed to stay afloat, it was with muddled senses and no small amount of confusion.
Coarse sleep-sand glued her eyelids together. Every feather from the down pillows cradling her head had been stuffed through her ears, overcrowding her skull so that she could not piece together a coherent thought. The surrounding quiet was suffocating after days of thundering hooves and steady rain.
For a moment, Rimiriel imagined she was a child again, having fallen asleep after a night of studying and been carried to bed by one of her brothers. But no, a drowsy voice in her head reminded her. She had wandered far from the libraries of Minas Tirith, and she had done so alone. She had traversed the farmlands of the Anorien, survived the icy waters of the Mering Stream, and crossed the grasslands of Rohan with none but her stallion for company. She had seen the golden roof of Meduseld with her own eyes—a feat few in Gondor could justly claim—and met the lord of the famed hall.
As she opened her eyes to the brightness of the mid-morning sun, Rimiriel remembered Théoden King’s offer of hospitality. Her foreign surroundings stood witness to the truth of his offer. A servant had led her to this room—spartan, though not in an uninviting way. High wooden beams arched overhead, so different from the stone ceilings of Gondor. A rock hearth still glowing on one side and a single window on the other were all that interrupted the walls aside from simple, solidly built furniture. She reclined in the room’s centerpiece: a large bed dressed in blankets made from pelts. Curious fingers marveled at the foreign softness of the warm layers. Aside from the mining villages high in the mountain regions, Gondorian winters were rarely cold enough for furs to be in high demand.
The servant that had brought her to the room had stoked a fire in the hearth and ordered a bath drawn. His retreat had heralded the arrival of a team carrying a wooden tub and a collection of steaming water pots. They had filled the tub quickly and then they, too, all retreated, save a pair of women near Rimiriel’s own age.
The servants did not bother introducing themselves, so the Gondorian resorted to quickly cataloguing the pair. One was taller with hooded eyes while the other was slight in both height and build, a thick spattering of freckles across her nose. What they spoke of the Common Tongue was thickly accented, but their intentions were clear. In no condition to refuse after her series of misadventures, the Gondorian allowed the women to help her disrobe. Deft fingers worked at buckles and clasps, confiscating Rimiriel’s belt and vest while she toed off her own boots. She reached for the bottom hem of her shirt and pulled it overhead, letting out a low hiss as aching muscles protested.
She had not thought about how she might look to an observer until she heard a small gasp and a foreign curse.
Chapter Seven: The Stranger & the King Chapter Excerpt
Only the dead have seen the end of war.
Éomer remembered his father speaking those words around a blazing fire after he and his riders had returned home from one of the many skirmishes with the enemies of Rohan threatening their borders. As a boy he had never questioned the truth in his father’s words even though he had not understood their meaning. Even now as a man, with his father gone to join his ancestors in the afterlife, he had yet to find a reason to doubt the bitter wisdom of Éomund, former Lord of Aldburg and Marshal of the Mark. For while others had honorably given their lives in defense of their homeland and now enjoyed the endless peace of the afterlife, free from war and strife, Éomer was still facing the threats of Mordor’s long-reaching shadow, his still-beating heart a constant reminder that he was not yet done fighting.
Would the battles ever be finished? Would his people ever know true peace?
As Éomer allowed the heavy doors of Meduseld to close behind him, cutting off the dismissive chatter of his uncle and his fellow Marshals of the Mark as they gathered the maps and reports referenced in their discussion of the next steps in securing their borders, he did not think so. All the talk of war so soon after losing so many men to the battle at Helm’s Deep had him feeling much wearier than his twenty-seven years would suggest. He was grateful for these few stolen moments of solitude as he stood on the porch of Meduseld, even though the solitude itself was a stark reminder of how much could be lost in war, with the terrace unusually empty since Háma the doorward had been slain and Théoden King had yet to appoint a replacement.
The youngest of the Riddermark’s Marshals breathed deeply of the air, fresh with the scent of the early spring rains that had been sweeping across the land over the past few days. He looked out over the town that had mostly fallen silent, with many of the citizens journeying to the western hamlets to aid their relatives and neighbors in restoring that which had been destroyed by Saruman’s marauding armies, rebuilding devastated homes and resowing uprooted crops, and his chest puffed with pride. None could deny that the Rohirrim were a hardy people, capable of weathering any storm. It would take more than the malice of the White Wizard to bring his people to their knees!
While he surveyed the land beyond the walls of Edoras, the Marshal’s sharp eyes noticed movement on the horizon to the east of the capital: a dark figure racing down the Great Road with considerable haste. As it drew closer, the formless smudge shifted and gained definition so that he could discern the separate-but-joined shapes of a horse and rider. Perhaps a messenger was bringing news on the efforts to push the barbaric Dunlending raiders that had chosen to side with Saruman back to their borders, he hoped. Reports of success would be most welcome and would do much to quell the rising tensions between the Marshals who could not seem to agree which move should be Rohan’s next.
Deciding to undertake the duty of greeting the messenger, Éomer descended the steps of Meduseld as the horse and rider barreled through the gates of Edoras, thundering through the town and cresting the hill to approach the Golden Hall without hesitation. He quickly realized that this was something more than a routine report, faltering at the edge of the first steps leading up the summit of the hill to where Meduseld stood tall and proud over its surroundings. Dread sent ice coursing through his veins as he surveyed the travelers coming to a halt only a stride away from where he stood….
It was nearly dawn when Rimiriel finally gave up on attempting to rest for even a moment more after a night of tossing fitfully about within her bedroll. The inky blue-black of morning twilight seemed evermore eerie where she camped at the eastern-most edge of the Firien Wood, the canopy of towering oaks casting shadows in thick clusters ideal for hiding enemies or predators, and so she focused on coaxing life back into the dying embers of her campfire. Every muscle remained coiled to spring as she listened for any enemies attempting to sneak up on her campsite, but it seemed her only company aside from Voronwë where he stood dozing nearby was the hooting owls and singing insects composing their nighttime melodies from within the forest’s dense shadows. The lone healer-turned-messenger knew that it was her own exhaustion that had her so on edge, but she also knew that she would be unable to rest peacefully until she had completed her mission.
After leaving Osgiliath at her brother’s command, she and her stallion had ridden hard across the plains of Anorien, pushing themselves until well past the midnight hour. They had finally stopped and made camp at the northwestern edge of the Druadan Forest, well past Cair Andros and any potential threats coming from that region. Just as she had promised her brother. Still, Rimiriel had felt as though she was being watched from the moment they had entered the ancient wood, her skin crawling under the weight of unseen stares even once they had exited the forest and made camp in its shadow. Weary from the long day in the saddle, she had lain down to find what rest she could, hoping that sleep would come quickly. Instead, her tired mind instantly recalled the old legends of the wildmen who called the Druadan home, conjuring sinister images of troll-like creatures waiting in the shadows to drag her away from the warm safety of her brightly crackling campfire the moment her guard fell.
She had hardly slept a moment that first night, but still faithfully rose to greet the day when the sun began to rise and burn away the darkness of night, replacing it with bright hues of red and orange. She and Voronwë set off at a brisk pace, the weathered grey stones of the Great Road cutting a path through the farms and fields of the Sun-land. The morning’s red sky had been offering a warning of things to come, however, with Rimiriel noticing dark storm clouds gathering overhead as the day progressed. The foreboding clouds chased horse and rider across the grasslands until their luck finally ran out.
The downpour began near midday and grew steadily worse over the course of the next two hours. Both messenger and steed were drenched and chilled to the bone by the time Rimiriel managed to find them shelter in an abandoned farm’s old barn. The crumbling building provided refuge from the worst of the gale, but little else as it proved to be both leaky and drafty. After seeing her horse dried off and made as comfortable as possible in one stall of the barn, the healer stripped out of her wet clothes and hung them to dry before bundling herself in her own blanket and bedding down in a pile of old hay, electing to use this obstacle to her advantage and get some rest.
She was primarily unsuccessful.
She knew there had once been a time in her childhood when she had slept soundly to the cadence of raindrops on the stone roofs of Dol Amroth or the Citadel, taking comfort in the new beginnings the spring rains promised after a long winter. That time was gone, however, with a young Rimiriel learning a hard lesson in the uncertainty and danger a storm brought with it, reshaping a childish love into a blatant dread of the darkening skies and strong winds that heralded the arrival of a squall.
She dozed restlessly until she heard the storm begin to die down, and then it was time to move once again. Fear of how much time had been lost due to the storm made her movements hasty as she dressed herself and saddled her horse, and she allowed herself only a quick meal before setting out once more.
At the end of all things, Kat’s purpose is revealed at last, and outside the Gate of Mordor Legolas prepares to die in the final battle.
- - -
Story Summary:
Unexpectedly turned into a cat, Kat falls into Middle-earth with the mission to prevent a death. In a feline form she can only communicate with Legolas, and that he is a very handsome elf is certainly not helpful… – A humorous 10th Walker fic that follows the books’ storyline instead of the movies.
So I wrote a Gríma Wormtongue fic, based on an unfinished one I read a while ago, which sadly hasn’t been updated since 2013. Just some easygoing post-war stuff.
I just really love the idea of Gríma becoming a gardener who grows poisonous plants. It makes me think of my mother and the big garden she had when I was younger, and the poke weed she grew, and the way she gently told me to wash my hands when I brought her a jimsonweed flower, but still put it in a vase for me. She would also plant moonflowers under my window so they would grow up the wall high enough for me to see them from my bed, knowing they were my favorites.
God dammit I did this just for a pun but now I’m imagining this whole backstory where a wounded female goblin flees from some battle and winds up on the edges of the Shire and she’s gonna jump some Hobbit dude named Blinko Tumbrush but Blinko’s so unfailingly polite that his first reaction on seeing someone in a rough situation is to invite them in to dinner and gobbo chick is just like “… uh… ‘kay.”
And then she has dinner and it’s the best thing she’s ever eaten and even her little green brain is able to put together “If I knife this guy so I can take his stuff he can’t cook more of this” so when he asks her to stay the night she’s just like “Fuck yeah breakfast”.
And all the other Hobbits in the area are staring at this new arrival who starts begrudgingly working in the garden (she can pull out the weeds they’d normally have to hitch livestock to) and they’re all thinking “Uhhhhh that’s a fucking Goblin there, chief” except if they actually acknowledge that she’s a goblin then it’s a huge to-do and a lot of excitement and possibly there would be adventure involved in chasing her off. So they just sort of silently, collectively decide they’re going to ignore it and all go “Oh, Blinko finally found himself a lady, how nice, she must be one of the Glumbrushes from over the far side of West Farthing, I always did hear they were on the homely side, not much hair on their feet you know.”
And eventually in due time along comes Korbo Tumbrush and decently cute Hobbit baby but the biggest fucking ears you ever saw on a Hobbit and he’s a bit green and everyone is thinking “That’s a fucking half-Goblin you’ve got there, chief, you fucked a fucking Goblin, you made a baby with a damn Goblin my guy” but this would be an immensely rude thing to say to someone so they’re just like “Oh how nice, Blinko, he looks just like you, has those Glumbrush eyes though.”
And Korbo the Goblit grows up a proper little man in his waistcoat and pipe and every so often someone visits from a different part of the shire and sees this plump green dude with massive flappy pointed ears and they start to open their mouth only for a local to leap right in and go “HAHA YES THAT IS KORBO TUMBRUSH A VERY UPRIGHT HOBBIT WE ALL LOVE KORBO HE’S GLUMBRUSH ON HIS MOTHER’S SIDE (WE THINK) THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!!!” and the visitor just starts nodding along emphatically because this is clearly something that is Not Spoken Of.
I fuckin love it
I. I have to know …
Does Korbo know!? Like is the Gobit aware his momma is a goblin? Or does he just grow up like
“yup us Glumbrushes sure do look different”
He leaves home on an adventure and stumbles n a hoard of goblins marches right up like
“how do ya do fellow hobbits? You know I’m half Glumbrush myself”
Alright, so, Korbo got in a fight once.
Once.
The Tumbrushes are, as a family trade, purveyors of fine pieces of wood. Not of large amounts of lumber, for which Hobbits don’t have a particular lot of call save occasionally, but rather of particularly nice pieces suitable for the making of fine window trimmings, floors, or the occasional carved bit of artwork to be given at a fancy event. Obviously for this one doesn’t go cutting down any tree willy-nilly, and Korbo had spent most of the day out and about looking for suitable trees.
(Korbo also personally assisted in cutting them down, being rather well known as on the strong side for a Hobbit, wink wink, nudge nudge.)
Having put in a genuine hard day’s work and rather pleased with himself, Korbo retired to the local bar to have a few beers and a smoke and to partake in good company, all of whom had gotten so used to pretending there was nothing odd about him that it was almost as if there was genuinely nothing odd about him.
Until along comes Humdil Thumbletoe.
Now the Thumbletoes were what was known in the Shire as “experts on genealogy”. This might sound like quite a good thing when you consider how well-versed most Hobbits are in their family lines, until you consider that most Hobbits are already well-versed in their family lines. A Hobbit being thoroughly knowledgeable of their family tree is not much to be remarked upon, so when it is remarked upon it is more to mean that the Hobbits in question are such tremendous mooches that they have had to dive far more deeply into their bloodlines looking for more relatives to leech off of than any Hobbit would generally consider polite.
Humdil was fairly brawny as Hobbits go, which was about all you could say for him. In fact Humdil had realized that was really all that could be said for him and had become a bit of a bully. And so it was he entered the bar that night with a very put-upon third cousin twice removed (by marriage) and caught sight of Korbo for the first time.
“Why, look at that one!” he bellowed, guffawing. “He’s so ugly his mother had to have been a Goblin, ey!”
The whole bar goes quiet. Aside from the obvious abominable rudeness of this, Humdil has said the thing that is never supposed to be said, and is clearly too stupid to realize he’s right. All heads slowly turn to Korbo.
Now, it is well known that Korbo has inherited his father’s tendency to never give a single solitary hairy-toed fuck about anything. He has currently been in the running to be at least the second most chill dude to ever be born in the Shire. And indeed, right now he’s still looking perfectly calm, puffing on his pipe. He sets the pipe aside, finishes off the last of his beer, and stands up.
“Sir, we’ll be needing to step outside.”
Now Hobbits are mostly a peaceable lot, not given to wars or fighting for any old thing, but a bit of fisticuffs outside the bar is hardly unheard of. Mostly everyone is kind of nervous about this because they’re still not sure how Korbo is reacting to this whole Goblin thing. So someone takes Korbo’s jacket and Humdil’s third cousin twice removed (by marriage) grudgingly takes his, and the two square off.
Now, Humdil was a big Hobbit, it was true, but there were a few things that, being a moron who didn’t realize he was right, and who had never been outside the Shire or seen a Goblin anyway, he could not possibly know.
For one, Goblins have long, spindly arms, giving them a surprisingly good reach for their size… not abominably long, certainly not in the case of a half-Goblin, and certainly not above being concealed by the cut of a well-tailored shirt. Second, they are compact, wiry creatures, with dense muscle over their otherwise lanky forms, and given to that a Hobbit’s already greater mass and the anchoring benefit of large, wide feet, well.
The moment Humdil stepped forward and started to swing, Korbo’s fist shot out like one of Gandalf’s better rockets and struck him directly in the nose. His flight was also, for some weeks after, compared to one of Gandalf’s rockets, though not quite as far and the explosion at the end was mostly him laying on the ground cursing wetly due to all the blood streaming from his nose.
Korbo apologizes profusely to all and sundry for the disturbance, collected his jacket, and goes home. Honey is out picking mushrooms (still being of the more nocturnal persuasion after all these years), but Blinko’s sitting by the fire reading a book. Korbo sees that there’s a newspaper (full of lots of extremely important things like how the pipeweed was growing and which barrels of beer were going to be uncasked that month), so picks it up and sits down to read.
“Evening, Da.”
“Evening, son. Pleasant evening out?”
“Oh, fine. Save for I broke Humdil Thumbletoes’s nose for him.”
“Hm, hm, I see. Why did you feel the need to do that?”
“Well, he called Ma a Goblin, you see.”
Blinko slowly lowers his book, and slowly raises his head. Looks at Korbo for long moments. Raises one eyebrow a little.
“Son. You know full well your mother is a Goblin.”
“Well, yes, but he didn’t know that, and he said it as an insult anyway so it being true or not doesn’t really matter that much, does it?“
“Hm, hm. I suppose that’s true at the end of the day, isn’t it?”
Blinko goes back to reading his book. Korbo continues reading the paper.
“You could have stabbed him,” Blinko eventually notes.
“Aye, could have stabbed him,” Korbo agrees easily enough. “But it’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”
“True, true, probably would have been a bit of a mess in the road, not very thoughtful to the community,” Blinko allows.
And that was the end of it.
I love all of this so much. Also-
“Sir, we’ll be needing to step outside.”
The power. I set down my drink after that one.
Oddly enough, one might expect Korbo to have trouble finding a lady hobbit. He’s not given to being as plump as his fellows, and his feet are a bit small, and he’s rather, well, tall for a hobbit, isn’t he. And green. Always looks a bit like he’s eaten something that didn’t agree with him.
But he runs into Hilda Greebrook one day in town, and she’s lost her favorite pipe, which is of course a tragedy of the highest order. It’s not unheard of for a lady to smoke, but it isn’t particularly encouraged, either, and so the general reaction is “you poor dear, perhaps it’ll turn up, hadn’t you best be getting home for luncheon?”
Korbo, however, stops to help her look for the pipe, and when it’s nowhere to be found he offers to make her another just like it, if she can tell him what precisely made it so special that it was a favorite, for after all a favorite must be distinguishable by something.
Unfortunately the thing that distinguishes it is that she got it from Gandalf and it’s quite unlike most pipes in the Shire, so recreating it is quite the task. But Korbo sets himself to it anyway, working a bit each night and handing it to Hilda daily to see if it feels quite right, and six months later he’s done it—recreated a pipe that came from the world of men, or perhaps elves, but certainly not that of hobbits.
Hilda for her part discovers Korbo quite likes to read, and though he’s from a reasonably well-to-do family—for hobbits are always in need of new toys and fancy party decorations after all—can’t get his hands on books fast enough to satisfy himself, and, well, her da’s a transcriber, someone’s got to write out the papers after all, and she’s got access to practically every book in the Shire, and ways to make copies besides.
At first people think it’s odd, a hobbit who can’t see asking to borrow books, but then they find out Korbo is involved and asking questions could lead to excitement and so they absolutely do not ask and simply offer up their histories and books of poetry and hobbit folklore (for even without want for excitement there are things it’s good to remember, and things every hobbit child should know so they, too, can grow up properly plump and staying well away from adventure), and resign themselves to never seeing their books again.
And then they find that far from their books quite disappearing, they return in fine form—albeit usually in a timeframe rather too long to be polite—but oddly quite a lot seem to have tiny bits of wood shavings in, although one wouldn’t expect it in a hobbit home? And THEN Hoptus Redbranch finds Korbo one day in his workshop, he’s just stopped by for the wood to repair a door after an unfortunate incident with attempting to remove a colony of bees and rather too much smoke for the moving of bees, and Korbo is simply. Pressing small pieces of hot iron into a very thin piece of wood, making small triangle patterns like no hobbit decoration Hoptus has ever seen, and he’s quite frequently checking into a book on his left that turns out to be one of Hoptus’ own books, and very carefully turning the pages with a cloth so as to not get oil from the hot iron all over the pages—
—and THEN, not long after the news of Korbo’s strange woodburning activities have spread across most of the Shire (and caused no small amount of consternation, because goblins are clever but so often the things they make are cruel and the cause of ever so much unpleasantness), Hilda is seen in her own garden with Korbo with a stack of these thin pieces of wood all carefully hinged together, running her fingers over carefully sanded and varnished pieces and feeling the triangles and recitingahobbittale.
For all those months of strangely disappeared books, Korbo has been translating Westron into an alphabet that can be read with one’s fingers, and making Hilda books, and teaching her to read them.
Nobody is entirely surprised, after about three years, when the two of them vanish for a few months, and come back quite married.
Within a few generations, this is absolutely going to be a thing Not Worth Remarking Upon. So when a young hobbit finds themselves accidentally ripping the knobs off doors when they’re cross, their parents will sigh and the elder hobbits in the village will remark that ‘that’ll be the Glumbrush in ‘im coming through, I told you his ears were a little bigger than his siblings, didn’t I?’ much the same as they always did on Bilbo and Frodo’s Took relations and the resulting hankering for adventure.
Were anyone from the outside to visit the Shire, they’d find a small colony of goblins thoroughly intermarried and also avoiding the usual goblin tendencies towards stabbing, so long as no one is so gauche as to insult them for being goblins.
(Sooner or later, one very flustered hobbit is going to accidentally do the same thing with an orc.)
Nie pamiętała, ile czasu siedziała zamknięta pod pokładem. Pamiętała jedynie, że jak co dzień, odkąd ją porwali, synowie Feanora wraz z księciem Curfinwe na czele dawali jej zajęcia, jak to określili, typowe dla kobiet. Ostatnim razem, to jest dzisiejszego poranka, kiedy wyszła na zewnątrz, polecili jej zmywanie pokładu statku. Chociaż wyszła to w tym przypadku wielce górnolotne określenie.Celegorm, niesłynący ze swojej delikatności wepchnął jej dosłownie w ręce ścierkę, oświadczając brutalnie, by zabierała się do pracy, bo ma dziś jeszcze dużo do zrobienia. Potem wyciągnął ją gwałtownie z ciemnego szerokiego korytarza, który dzieliła z resztą załogi. W przeciwieństwie do innych elfów spała jedynie na samym kocu, bowiem hamaka dla swojej służki Feanorianie nie przewidywali. Tuż po przekroczeniu schodków prowadzących do dolnych pomieszczeń dostrzegła przechadzającego się po pokładzie rudowłosego elfa, zdecydowanie przewyższającego wzrostem pozostałych spośród buntowników tego konkretnego okrętu. Siedział na dziobie i był całkiem bosy, jadł najpewniej jedno, jeśli nie ostatnie ze świeżych jabłek. Biała koszula z pięknie ustrojonym, jednak wciąż prostym żabotem, ozdobiona została teraz drobnymi mokrymi plamkami, świadczącymi najpewniej o solidnie wykonywanej pracy przy żaglach. Pamiętała, że ów chłopak spojrzał na brata krytycznie. Pamiętała też jego znaczący gest. Początkowo młodzieniec jedynie zmarszczył brwi, wstając z miejsca, co od razu dodało mu kolejnych 20 centymetrów wzrostu, później przeczesał dłonią miedziane pasma włosów, by ostatecznie związać je brązowym kawałkiem materiału. Na koniec westchnął, spoglądając na ciągnące się aż po horyzont spokojne fale oceanu. Tego dnia tafli wody nie mąciło nic a ocean zawał się wręcz stać, na tyle ile delikatne kołysanie można nazwać staniem. Ponownie odwrócił wzrok w stronę brata i dziewczyny, krzywiąc wargi. - Musisz być dla niej taki podły?! Nie szarp jej. Czy nie widzisz, że twój chwyt sprawia jej ból !? - oznajmił rzeczowo Maitimo posyłając jej samej przepraszające spojrzenie - Puść ją Tyelko. - Jest naszym jeńcem, czyż nie mam racji bracie ?- odpowiedział blondyn, pamiętała, że chwycił ją wówczas jeszcze mocniej, przez co aż zacisnęła zęby z bólu. Z jej ust dało się słyszeć cichy jęk. - Ona…. -chciał kontynuować, to jednak nie zostało mu dane. - Jest kobietą! - uciął krótko starszy z mężczyzn- Miałeś ją tylko obudzić i wyprowadzić na pokład, nawet ojciec nie dał ci przyzwolenia, byś się nad nią znęcał! Nadużywasz swojej władzy Tylekromo i dobrze ci radzę, byś powstrzymał swoje sadystyczne zapędy. O ile nie chcesz mieć problemów ze mną, ojcem albo Curvo. Bo pamiętaj, że to on przeważnie za nią odpowiada. Tylko tym razem jest wraz z naszym ojcem w jego pomieszczeniu. Spróbuj coś złamać tej nis albo ją uszkodzić. Jeśli zobaczę siniaki, obiecuję, że przy najbliższej okazji powiem naszemu bratu, aby złamał ci nos. Tak w moim i Kano imieniu wyłącznie. A dobrze wiesz, że dla Atarinkë to żadna sztuka. Wtedy blondyn ustąpił. Chociaż i na jego ustach pojawił się grymas niezadowolenia. Celegorm zostawił ją, odchodząc i popychając w głąb pokładu stopą, tak, że przesunęła się dobre kilka metrów dalej. - Teleri to śmiecie. -oznajmił na odchodnym kierując się do stojącego przy żaglach drugiego rudzielca - Huan! - gwizdnął krótko Dużych rozmiarów ogar zbiegł z mostka kapitańskiego, siadając wiernie u jego boku. Vaivamir popatrzyła odruchowo na swoją rękę. Już teraz mocno zaczerwieniona zaczynała powoli sinieć. - Hennon gen - mruknęła gdy pokryte drobnymi piegami, mocne dłonie postawiły ją na nogi Elf nie odpowiedział jednak nic na jej przeprosiny. - Bierz się do pracy. - rzucił tylko krótko, podsuwając jej pod nos wiadro wypełnione po brzegi, a potem także wrócił do siedzenia i jedzenia owocu. I początkowo zabrała się do pracy, bo i cóż lepszego miała do roboty zdana od wielu dni na łaskę noldoroskich marynarzy i siedmiu samozwańców, lecz w krótkim czasie zaprzestała wykonywanej czynności, kuląc się przy każdym, nawet drobnym poruszeniu łajby.
W tamtej sekundzie natychmiast przypomniała sobie, czemu od tak wielu dni unikała wszelakich rejsów z własnym rodzicielem, chociaż jako Teleryjka miała ku temu wszelakie możliwości. Przypomniała sobie uczucie niepewności, zwroty głowy, zielono- bladą skórę wokół ust i policzków, sperlone czoło i w końcu gwałtowny ruch w kierunku burty, by w ostatniej chwili wychylić się za nią z nader dobrze wszystkim znanym, charakterystycznym dźwiękiem… Usiadła na łóżku, rozglądając się na boki, ze zdumieniem odkrywając, iż nie została zniesiona tam, gdzie zwykle a jej podłoże to nie deski podłogowe, lecz najprawdziwszy miękki materac. Kajuta, w jakiej przebudziła się kilkanaście minut temu, nie powalała swoją obszerną przestrzenią, zdecydowanie stanowiła jednak lepsze wyjście niż dzielenie przestrzeni z ponad dwudziestką elfów płci przeciwnej. Dziewczynę zaskoczyła też panująca w niej prostota. Całość była mała urządzona skromnie w stylu, jak oczywiście należało się spodziewać jej rodu, została jednak przekształcona, tak by odpowiadać gustom księcia Noldorów oraz jego potomkom. Wewnątrz znajdowały się solidne łoże, wyłożone prostą pościelą, drobna szafka i niewielki stoliczek zapełniony niemal po brzegi stosem papierów oraz skórzanych kajetów o różnej pojemności i rozmiarach. Drobne luźne kartki leżały również na podłodze poruszając się za każdym razem gdy statek chociaż trochę przechylił się na bok. W kącie przy łóżku leżał niedbale porzucony czarny dublet oraz czerwona koszula przyozdobiona niebyt zachęcająco wyglądającymi plamami potu. Via przyzwyczajona już jednak do towarzystwa marynarzy wzruszyła jednak ramionami. Po wyglądzie ubrań domyśliła się już jednak w czyjej kajucie i dlaczego się znajduje. Ponownie zalała ją fala wdzięczności za gest litości w jej kierunku ze strony tych istot, chociaż to na ich rozkaz wymordowano większość jej pobratymców, owych siedmiu braci zaczynało w jej oczach nabierać nieco pozytywniejszego obrazu. Szczególnie trzech spośród nich wykazywało się wobec niej chęcią pomocy. Najstarszy Maitmo, drugi zaraz po nim Kanafinwe i przedostatni z książąt Curvo zwany również Curufinem lub Atarinkë. To właśnie w pokoju ostatniego z nich znajdowała się obecnie. Była tego pewna, bo chociaż wystrój podobny do tegoż mógł również obejmować inne kajuty, odzienia nie sposób było pomylić z żadnym innym. Podniosła się chwiejnie na nogi, schylając po jedną z kartek tuż pod jej stopami, po czym pokiwała głową z uznaniem. Szkic przedstawiał widok z góry. Jak się domyślała z żagli. Oddany ze wszystkimi możliwymi elementami, począwszy od spienionych kłębów fal, na dobrze zarysowanych sylwetkach rodziny autora kończąc. Chociaż byli oni zarysowani pobieżnie, z łatwością dało się jednak rozpoznać zarówno ojca, jak i pozostałych sześciu braci. Sięgnęła po kolejną stronę z ziemi. Tym razem jednak serce teleryjki zabiło mocniej. Niewielki chłopiec obejmował , korpulentną , rudowłosą kobietę. Elfkę o charakterystyczne Zarysowanym garbatym nosie, szaro błękitnych oczach i wąskich ustach i szerokich jak na kobietę barkach. Via zamrugała gwałtownie. Ponieważ córka Kowala Mathana była powszechnie znaną i poważną artystką również w samym Aqualongë widziała ją parę razy w swoim krótkim jak na elfkę życiu. Nie miała możliwości przyjrzeć się dokładnie lady Nerdaneli, ale zarysy na szkicu nie budziły wątpliwości , iż jest to ona we własnej osobie. Matka chłopców, żona księcia Feanäro. A ten mały elf ….. Uświadamiając sobie podobieństwo chłopca do samego Curufina serce ścisnęło jej się jeszcze mocniej. Coś ukuło ją dotkliwe w samym jej wnętrzu. Czy Atarnikë tęsknił za matką? Zapewne nie mieli czasu się nawet z nią pożegnać, skoro ich w gorącej wodzie kompany ojciec pozrywał ich z posłań w samym środku nocy. Chociaż musiał planować z nimi ucieczkę do Śródziemia, żaden z jego synów raczej nie przewidział tak gwałtownego obrotu spraw. - Z początku sądziłam, że jest złośliwym i wrednym manipulantem, -pomyślała elfica podchodząc kilka kroków, by odłożyć kartki na blat stolika - Że jest jedynie zimnym i podłym potworem i szaleńcem jak oni wszyscy w oczach innych eldarów z Valinoru. Ale patrząc na to co mam róże sobą… Może oni nie są tylko i jedynie wyrachowanymi mordercami, jak przypuszczałam. - Podobają ci się? Podskoczyła na dźwięk męskiego głosu, odwracając się. Właściciel pokoju stał, opierając się ręką o framugę w drzwiczkach. - Wybacz, że cię nachodzę. Myślałem, że jeszcze śpisz. Zszedłem do ciebie, chciałem, zobaczyć jak się czujesz. Przed podaniem środków nasennych spędzałaś czas przyklejona do wiadra albo burty. Zaczynałem się niepokoić dziewczyno. - książę podszedł bliżej, przekładając gliniany kubek z ręki do ręki - Zwłaszcza że zanim wyszedłem, już rzucało tobą jak szmacianą kukłą. To doprawdy niespotykany widok by członków twego plemienia dręczyły takie dolegliwości. Vaivamir zarumieniła się nieznacznie. - Wybacz książę. Jestem tu dzięki waszej łaskawości wobec mnie. Nie chciałam sprawić ci problemów. Curufin zaśmiał się cicho. - Nie sądziłem, że przedstawiciela telerich może dręczyć choroba morska. Jednak widząc to, szczerze ci współczuję. Możesz rozmówić się na ten temat z Kano. Wygląda na to, że ma podobny problem. Ale ja i moi bracia nie jesteśmy tym zdziwieni. Zawsze był aż zbyt wrażliwy. Od kilku dni wygląda, jak chodząca śmierć. Czy zwrócił robione przez ciebie śniadanie? Nie pytałem, ale odmówił spożywania innych posiłków. No cóż… Czego oczy nie widzą, tego sercu nie żal, będzie więcej dla mnie i Tyelko. Swoją drogą, będzie musiał pogodzić się z podbitym okiem na kilka dobrych tygodni. Maitimo powiedział mi, jak zachowywał się wobec ciebie. Przepraszam za niego. To skończony idiota. Myśli, że każdy ma mu się podporządkować. Z roku na rok, jest coraz gorszy. Odkąd został stałym bywalcem w lasach Oromego wydaje mu się, że teraz każdym będzie w stanie rządzić. Niedoczekanie jego. Sam sobie niech usługuje. Teraz w nowym miejscu będzie musiał pogodzić się z faktem, że nie jesteśmy już książętami, takiej rangi jak kiedyś. A ty nie, nie jesteś jego własnością. Jeśli dalej będzie się tak odnosił, również do innych członków załogi, z przyjemnością podbiję mu i drugie oko. A nawiasem mówiąc. Jedzenie było pyszne. Gotujesz lepiej, niż nie jeden z mężczyzn a w końcu wedle tradycji tym winien się zajmować ktoś naszej płci. - Najwidoczniej miałeś dobre przeczucia panie, zostawiając mnie przy życiu. Szkice zaś jeśli są twojego autorstwa, są wspaniałe. Widzę, że i w drodze nie tracisz czasu. Cóż to…? -popatrzyła na kubek wypełniony czymś o niebyt zachęcającym wyglądzie i zapachu - Smakuje lepiej, niż wygląda. Zresztą czy to ważne?! Pomaga na mdłości. Powinnaś poczuć się nieco lepiej. - Curufin przesunął kubek bliżej - Śmiało. Skoro Kano przeżył ten smak, to ty też. Via uniosła naczynie do ust, upijając łyk. Skrzywiła się pod wpływem gorzkiego smaku. Ponaglona przez Atarnikë wypiła jednak duszkiem resztę. Chociaż napój nie należał do najsmaczniejszych, po kilku minutach odczuła faktyczną poprawę. Przynajmniej fizyczną, bo jeśli chodzi o wygląd Vaivamir wciąż czuła, że jej stan pozostawia wiele do życzenia. Srebrne strąki jej pozlepianych włosów zaczynały dotkliwie przeszkadzać a sama skóra głowy nieznośnie swędzieć. Tak samo jak reszta ciała oblepionego potem. W ustach dalej pomimo wypitego leku czuła posmak wymiocin. Jej oddech też zapewne nie należał teraz do najprzyjemniejszych. - Powinnaś się wykąpać. - powiedział Curufin siadając na materacu naprzeciwko po chwili wstał szukając czegoś w niewielkiej szafce - Masz piętnaście minut. - oświadczył chłodniej, podając jej ręcznik -Rozgonię braci i załogę do ich komnat. Pływasz, jak sądzę dobrze. Przypilnujemy cię z ojcem. Postaram się nie patrzeć. Pośpiesz się Teleryjko. - ruszył do drzwi stukając oficerkami o podłogę - Aha. Jeszcze jedno. Od dzisiaj nocujesz tutaj. Postaram się pozbierać rzeczy wraz z zachodem słońca przeniosę się do Tyelko. Ma wystarczająco miejsca w pokoju na hamaku, a ktoś musi mieć na oku tego zbója, zanim zatopi nas przed dopłynięciem do lądu. Ruszył na górę, zostawiając ją samą.
Fragment opowiadania, kim mogła być początkowo żona Curufina. Przy okazji w jej roli moja oc - teleryjka Vaivamir ( w quenyi imię znaczy mniej więcej morski wiatr.) Czy pisać dalej? Jakie są wasze założenia. Co tu się stało?
Featuring: All the members of the Fellowship of the Ring previous to Boromir’s death.
Synopsis:When suddenly, while walking through the forest near Path Galen, a shift in time travels the whole Fellowship out of their very own Middle Earth to the normal and mortal parallel Earth.
Warnings:Mentions of hospitals, the fellowship may be a bit cringy and has to adapt, mentions of injuries and blood.
The rights of the characters that conform the fellowship go to J.R.R Tolkien and his masterpieces “The Lord of the rings” and “The Hobbit”. The plot is pure fiction for what is understood that most of the events do not happen in the books/movies.
Some themes are not factually acurate, any problem detected on the information given may be comunicated to me via DM.
Request by a lovely anon: Hello! First I loved your chapter of Pure Blood, amazing as always Second, can I request a smut first time with Maglor and fem! Reader, where reader is kinda shy? I love all of your smuts
A/n: So i decided to make the reader plus size. I hope you don’t mind.
A relief sigh fell from your lips as you sit by the riverbank, delighted that you finally could be in this quiet place all by yourself.
You hate crowds of people, you always had. It made you feel dizzy and breathless, feeling they judging gaze on you since you aren’t like the other beautiful elven maidens. Tall, slim, and with perfect heart shape face and sweet pouty lips.
No, you were the opposite of that.
You are small with extra curves. You have a round face shape and your lips were excessively plump for an elf. Your mother was always making snarky comments about your fatness, telling the servants to put less food on your plate to see if you lose weight. But your older sister is way worse than your mother, always introducing you to the other Lords and Ladies as the black sheep of the family. It was because of that, that you stop going to the feasts and found that quiet spot by the riverbank.
The smooth sound of the water stream made your all body and mind relax, forgetting all the madness of your family and the cruel world. You rest your back on the tree behind and close your eyes, focusing on the beautiful sound around you.
Suddenly, you heard soft footsteps beside you. Your eyes shot open and you saw the one and only, Prince Maglor.
“Oh? I’m sorry if I have disturbed you, My Lady.” He says as he sees you sitting against an old tree.
You quickly stood up and bow very awkwardly to him, your cheeks burning like the flames of Aulë forges. “M-My Prince!… N-No, you didn’t disturb me. Huh… I was about to leave actually.” You shutter.
He looks down at you with his perfect brow lift, seeing through your lies. “You don’t need to leave just because I’m here, My Lady.” He says with a delicate voice. “Actually, I would love that you stayed here with me. I need someone to judge the new songs that I created.” He sits down and puts his harp on his lap.
You stayed there awkwardly, swaying on your feet. You didn’t know what to respond to that, you aren’t good with people especially with royal ones.
Maglor looks up to your in curiosity and pats the green grass beside him. “Come. Sit and relax, My Lady.” He says with a soft smile.
Swallowing hard, you sit beside him very ungracefully. You look down to your hands, playing with the hem of your dress. Maglor grab his harp and began playing a soft melody, his slender fingers brushing the thin strings carefully. He took a deep breath and began to sing.
His voice was something that you had never heard before. It was full of passion and fire. You have heard that Maglor had a beautiful voice but you thought that was only your sister being exaggerated.
You find yourself humming softly with him, your mind was clear and your body relaxed which was strange since you are in the presence of a Prince.
When he finished, he put down his harp and grins excitedly to you, his dark blue eyes glittering in mischief. “Well? Did you like it?” He asked.
You took a moment to return from your trance. Blinking a few times, you look back to him and smile shyly. “Yes, My Prince… It was very beautiful.”
He grins widely and rests his back against the tree. “You know… You have a beautiful voice. We could do a duet together!” He says in excitement.
You shook your head quickly and gasp. “No!” You yelp, making Maglor look at you in confusion. You push an h/c lock behind your pointy ear and clear your throat. “W-What I mean is… that I’m not very good with crowds and singing is not a talent I have.” You whisper.
Maglor frowns and looks at you carefully. “I found that very hard to believe, My Lady.” He says. “A beautiful elleth like you must be the jewel of a feast and when you joined while I was singing… it was beautiful.”
You blush violently with his words and look away, trying to hide your face from him. “Excuse me for saying this, My Prince… but you must be blind.” You say quietly, scared that you maybe have offended him.
Maglor tilts his head and frowns. “Why would you say that?” He asked.
You bit your lip and take a deep breath. “Because… Because I’m not beautiful, My Prince.” Your voice trembles as you say those words, trying to fight the tears from falling.
You have been bullied your all life by your own family. You don’t have any self-love, every time you look in a mirror, you only see an ugly fat elleth. So, it’s hard to believe his words especially when it’s the first time you have heard those words.
You feel a large soft hand cupping your soaked cheek and a thumb cleaning your tears away. Looking up, you see Maglor gazing at you with concern.
“Don’t cry, My Lady.” He whispers. “I’ve noticed you a few times in some feasts. Always wearing a simple dark red gown with a simple necklace and hair down. Every time I saw you, I thought ‘She is a rare elleth.’” He smiles softly at you and grabs your hand. “Do you know why?” You shook your head, sniffing quietly. “You have something that every elleth would die to have… a natural beauty.”
Your eyes widen and more tears fall down your eyes. He might be lying but you want so bad to hear those words, to feel beautiful.
“You don’t need jewels or expensive gowns to make you beautiful, My Lady.” He whispers, resting his forehead against yours.
You clean your tears and smile at him. “Thank you… Thank you so much.”
After that day, you two have been meeting in secret there. Maglor would always bring his harp and play it softly while you hum a soft melody. Sometimes you two would just relax and share stories or things you both have in common which both you hate attending feasts.
One day, Maglor had sent you a letter to meet him at midnight by the riverbank. You thought it was weird since you both made a deal to meet always in the evening. Wrapping a dark cloak around you, hiding your nightgown from preying eyes, and walk out from your house.
When you got to the riverbank, Maglor was already there waiting for you. A serious look on his face as he watches the water stream flow gently.
“Maglor.” You whisper as you sit beside him.
He looks to you and smiles widely. “Y/n.” He greets.
“What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait for tomorrow?” You asked.
He took a deep breath and whisper something under his breath like he was trying to get the courage for something. Clearing his throat, Maglor turns to you and grabs your hands with his.
“Y/n…Since the day I first saw you, I knew that I would never see a woman as beautiful as you.” He pauses for a moment, his deep blue eyes fixed on yours. “I-I’m not very good with this but… Would you make my dreams come true and court me?” His eyes shined like two big stars, filled with hope and fear at the same time.
You were speechless for a while. Shocked that someone like him would want you to be his. You definitely have feelings for him even when you tried to bury them since you thought that Maglor would only see you as a friend.
“You don’t need to accept-”
“Yes!” You cut him off with a big smile. “Million yes!”
You see a tear fall down his eye and a relief sigh fell from his lips. “Thank you Eru.” He whispers to himself as he pulls you into a warm embrace. He kisses your both cheeks and then gives a small, shy kiss on your lips. “You make me so happy, Nin mel.”
You giggle and kiss him back, feeling brave for a second. “And so do you.” You whisper, seeing how beautifully the moonlight fell on his raven black hair and his pearly white skin.
You cup his cheek, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. You feel his warm hands moving to your waist, pulling you into his lap as he leans down for another kiss but this one was full of passion and lust. You moan into the kiss, letting your hands roam freely, exploring his strong chest and arms.
Maglor gently removes your cloak, goosebumps spread through your skin as the cool air of night kiss your feverish skin.
“Maglor…” You whimper, feeling a massive tent between your legs.
“What is it, Nin mel?” He asked as he moves his lips to your neck, nibbling the skin there.
“More… I-I want more…” You moan as you tried to remove his shirt.
He helps you and throws his shirt to where your cloak was. “Your wishes are my command, Nin mel.” with that, he pulls the ribbon of your nightgown and removes it from you, making you bare to his eyes. “Beautiful…” He murmured in awe.
You tried to hide your breasts but Maglor stopped you. “Don’t! You are beautiful, Y/n. Don’t you ever try to hide your beauty.”
You nod slowly, feeling overwhelmed by all his sweet words. He leans down and began kissing a trail towards the valley between your breasts. His kisses making your blood boil with need. You feel his hands wandering to your plump thighs, grabbing gently the extra meat there and moaning against your skin.
“Your body is soft… I love it.” He whispers as he captures your nipple with his mouth, giving a hard suck.
You arch your back and moan loudly, forgetting that you both are outside and that someone could see them at any moment. You put your hand on his head, grabbing a fistful of his silky black hair, and push him more into my chest.
“Ahh…Maglor…” You mewl, drunk by the feeling of his mouth on you.
His kisses began moving down to your soft belly, his soft lips caress all your extra curve with such passion. He was worshipping your body as it belongs to a Goddess.
He pushes your legs apart and nests between them, resting the back of your knees on his shoulders. His deep blue eyes fixed on yours as he leans down and kisses the space between your thigh and your soaked lips. A lewd whimper fell from your lips and you rock your hips a little, trying to get his mouth directly into your core.
“Maglor…Please!” You plead, your eyes were almost black with lust.
He nods and starts kissing and licking your wet slit, sucking gently your swollen clit. Moans, whimpers, and pleads fell from your lips while Maglor feast between your legs like a mad man. This was your first time and you should be afraid but something in Maglor made you feel safe like he would never let something happen to you.
He pushes one slender finger inside your channel, making you gasp in surprise. He looks up, his eyes asking if you were okay. You nod and smile softly, gasping for air as his finger began doing the come hither motion.
You could feel your orgasm coming close and you knew that Maglor could feel it too. He took his finger out and stood between your legs on his knees. You blush immensely as he licks your nectar from his finger and hums in pleasure.
“True nectar from the Gods.” He says as he leans down and captures your lips in a deep kiss.
You wrap your arms around his neck and moan softly as you taste yourself on his tongue. Maglor grabs his shaft with his hand and rubs gently against your soaked sex, lubricating his member with your juices.
He pulls away from the kiss and looks into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?” He asked in a quiet voice, fear of being rejected lingering behind his mind.
You swallow loudly and nod, smiling sweetly at him. “Yes, my love… I’m absolutely sure about this.”
He chuckles and nods. Positioning his shaft at your entrance, he began pushing inside slowly, careful to not hurt you too much. You hiss and claw his back with your nails, taking a deep breath, and trying to relax as much you could.
“That’s it, Y/n…Relax…” He whispers against your ear. “Oh, Eru… you feel so good, Nin mel.”
You whimper and bit your lower lip, the pain had begun to vanish and pleasure took over your body. You squeeze tightly your velvet walls around his member, making him moan loudly in surprise.
Maglor begins thrusting harder, shaking your all body. His left hand grabs yours and put beside your head on the cool grass, intertwining your fingers together while his right hand grabs tightly your hips.
Sweet nothings fell from his lips while you moaned his name into the cool night. The lewd sounds from your bodies echoed through the calm waters of the river and the moon bathe you two with her silver light.
“I-I love you, Y/n…. I love you so fucking much, Nin mel.” Maglor whispers.
Tears of joy fall from your eyes, feeling so happy and so loved. You pull him into a deep kiss and rest your forehead against his.
“I love you too, My Prince.” you whisper back.
The two of you make love the rest of the night, surrounded by the sound of the river and illuminated with moonlight.
Hey Guys!!! Here’s a new one-shot with Maglor! I hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think.
Also, if you like my work, feel free to buy me a coffee on my Ko-fi
Request by a lovely anon:Hi ! Can we get a Lòrien with an abused child! reader one shot please ? Where reader is mistreated and abandoned by her parents and Lòrien finds her and tries to comfort her. Please, I need fluff ! (sorry for my english mistakes, i’m french but i love your blog :D )
A/n: So i just wanted to say that Lórien is mostly known as Irmo
Your small sobs sounded through the dark silent forest. Dark bruised printed on your small arms and chubby cheeks. Your big e/c eyes study carefully your surroundings as fat tears run down your soft cheeks.
Your worst nightmare finally came true. Well, you didn’t know if it was a nightmare or a dream because you wished to run from the monsters that once you called parents. Since you were born, your mom and dad spend their days hitting you or forcing you to do all the work in the house…. but it wasn’t enough. You were too little to reach for the plates on the top shelf which led to a pile of broken dishes. You had received the worse beat of your small life from your drunk dad.
After beating you with his belt a few times and slapping your face until your lip split open, he throws you to the old wagon and took off towards the dark forest which leads to where you are alone.
He left you there to die. In hopes that some dark creature captures you and rip your soft flesh off from your bones.
You curl your sore body into a small ball by a tree and sob into your small hands, wishing that all of this would end quickly.
“My poor child.” A delicate voice sounded through the tall trees, making you lift your head from your hands. “Left here to die.”
“W-Who’s t-there?” You asked with a whispered voice.
Suddenly a bright figure comes from the dense forest, he was tall and was wearing long silky dark blue robes. His hair was silver like the moonlight and waterfall down his back. His skin was pearly white and his features remind you of a feline, with his cheekbones and sharp grey eyes.
“Don’t be afraid, child.” He says with a calm and delicate voice. The strange man kneels in front of you and pushes an h/c lock behind your ear. “I’m a friend and I’ve come to rescue you.”
You rub your tears off with the back of your hand and sniff a little, your eyes fixed on his grey ones. “Like the knights do to the Princesses?” You asked in curious but frown lightly, looking down at your small hands. “But I’m not a princess…”
The man chuckles and shook his head, making his beautiful silver hair fall over his shoulder. “You don’t need to be a Princess to be rescued, Little One.” He says with a gentle smile. “I’m Irmo. What’s your name, Little One?”
You look up from your hands and shrug your shoulders, trying to fight more tears from falling. “I-I don’t have one… I think” You whisper, seeing the shock on his gray eyes.
“What do your parents call you?” He asked, his face contoured with concern.
You shrug your shoulders again and sniff. “Pigglet, Little Whore, and many other things….”
Irmo was speechless, not knowing what to say to the small child before him. The sadness of the child’s soul had brought him here, he couldn’t support more how scared and sorrowful this child was. How could someone do this to a small child??!! How could a parent do this to their own offspring? Not even the Dark Lord himself could do this to a child.
Irmo’s eyes study carefully the dark bruises on the child’s arms, neck, and head. Noticing that she was wearing an old rag, that only covered a little, leaving most of her little legs and arms bare.
You wrap your arms around your knees, pulling them to your chest. A hiss fell from your lips as you move your sore body, feeling the burn of the bruises that your dad made. Lórien took his robe off and wrap it around you. The feel of rich silk against your skin made you sigh in pleasure, feeling safe and warm. Something that you aren’t used to it.
After a long silence, Irmo clears his throat and smiles down at you, noticing the sleep in your tearful eyes.
“Y/n,” He says simply.
You frown and tilt your head to the side, confused. “What?”
“That’s your new name.” He gave you an excited grin and cups your cheek with his large hand, noticing how you flinch with his touch. “I have a big home and I would love to share it with you, Y/n.”
“Home?” You asked with a little hope on your voice.
He nods and smiles gently. “Yes, home. A place where you could be who you are and never feel fear or sad again.” He says calmly. “I can see that you have passed a bad time and you deserve better, Y/n… You deserve to feel loved, to feel safe, to be free… So, what you think, Little One? Would you like to go to your new home?” He asked.
You stay quiet for a while, thinking carefully of what he said. You knew that you shouldn’t go to a stranger’s home but…but you don’t have anywhere else to go, no one to call family or friend and Irmo seems a good man. Well, not man since you just notice the pointy ears.
“Are you an elf?” You asked shyly.
He chuckles softly and cleans a tear from the corner of your eye. “Ahh…You could say that.” He says with a grin and a wink which made you giggle. “Ahh, there it is! What a beautiful laugh!” He says as he starts tickling you, making you laugh even harder and plead for mercy.
“Okay, okay.” You huff with a small smile as you try catching your breath. “I will come with you…just-just promise that I won’t get hurt anymore… I can’t take it anymore.” You say quietly, your eyes fixed on his, trying to see if there were lies in them but she found none.
“I will not anything bad happens to you, Y/n… I will protect you forever, Little One.” He says with a serious face. He leans down and gives a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Now, sleep little one… We have a long journey ahead of us.” with that, your eyes closed and sleep takes over you.
Irmo picks you up gently, careful for the robe not fall down.
“My Love?” His wife, Estë, comes from between the trees to his side. Looking down to the child on his arms in curious. “Who’s this little one?” She asked as she stroke gently your cheeks with her finger.
He smiles softly down at you and looks to his wife. “This is our new guest of honor.” He says as he kisses his wife lovely. “She has been through a lot, love.”
Estë looks down again at you, her eyes full of sadness as she sees the bruises on your limp body. “Poor child…” She gasps. “Don’t worry, My Love… You and I will give her a good life in Valinor… Let’s hope that Manwë won’t mad with this little human being there.” She says with a grin and mischief eyes.
Irmo chuckles and nods, walking into the dense forest with you in his arms and his wife beside him. “Nah, I think Manwë will love her.” He says as the three of them began the journey back to Valinor.
One thing that Irmo is sure about it, is that every Valar will love Y/n with all their hearts and will do everything in their power to protect her.
“Let’s introduce you to your new family, Little One.”
Hey Guys!!! Here’s a new One shot with Irmo! I hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!
Also, it would mean so much if you guys could buy me a coffee! It’s only 3$ (my ko-fi account name is Lilith and post there my original work.)
Hey Guys! So, the requests are close. I’m glad that you guys had so many good requests and I will post them on this weekend since I’ve been really busy this week.
Summary: We all born with white blood which symbolizes our pure soul. As we grow up, our blood can change to red and become darker if we begun doing cruel things. The darker the blood, the cruel you are. Mine’s occur to be pure white but will continue to be after i meet my soulmate?
“And where in hell have you been, young lady??” Dad asked with a furious tone as I stopped the wagon. He grabbed Dante’s reins and glare at me. “Your mother and I have been worried! What happens?!” He asked while he pats Dante’s neck.
I sign and climb down from the wagon seat, trying to come up with an excuse since I don’t want father to know about my little thing with Maedhros.
“I was hungry after I closed the bank so I went to eat something at the tavern nearby,” I say with a sweet smile. “That’s all.” Well, I wasn’t technically lying
He looked at me with a suspicious face, his eyes studying me carefully. “Mhmm…You better not be lying to me, Young lady.” He starts unstrap Dante from the wagon and leading him into the stables. “You better go inside and see your mother. She is worried to death.”
I nod and walk inside. As I open the door, my mother pulls me into a bear hug. Her voice was full of concern and anger at the same time. “Young lady! Where have you been?? I’ve been worried sick!”
I sign and told her what I’ve told father. She wasn’t very happy but let me go back to my room and rest.
I close the bedroom door behind me carefully and a grin appears on my face as a giggle fell from my lips.
My fingers touch my lips, the early events coming to my mind. Remembering how good his kiss felt, how perfect his soft lips felt against mine. My heart was beating like hummingbird wings and my blood rushed to my cheeks.
Patting my cheeks and taking a deep breath, I walk to my window and open it. Letting the cold air from the night in. I look up to the moon, marveling at her delicate beauty. My mind is still filled with Maedhro’s thoughts.
“My life is turning into a fairy tale romance… Who would know…” I say with a grin.
///
Maedhros walked back to his rented room with a big smile on his face. Feeling emotions that he hadn’t felt in decades. Happy, at peace, and excited. But all that vanished when he opens his bedroom door.
Staying there in the middle of the room was a cloaked figure. Maedhros quickly took his sword from his belt and pointed to the stranger.
“Who are you?” he growled.
The stranger chuckles and turns around slowly, his dark cloak floating gracefully around him. “Is that the way you treat an old friend, Mae?” Maedhros’s eyes widen as he sees Elrond’s face, his grey eyes calm but Maedhros could see a little anger in them.
“E-Elrond? How-” Elrond cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“How did I found you? Well, that was quite easy if I may say,” he says as he starts looking around the small room. “I just had to follow the angry crowd of humans. They don’t like you very much…except one.” That made Maedhros growled which made Elrond chuckle.
“Who would it bet that the might Noldor Prince would fall in love with a mere mortal. I think your ada must be throwing a tantrum in Mandos Halls with this news,” he says as he stopped in front of Maedhros.
“What do you want, Elrond?” Maedhros growled in annoyance, not liking how Elrond talked about his ada.
Elrond sighs, gazing seriously at Maedhros. “I’ve come here to propose something… Come with me to Rivendell. I will grant you a safe home and a place in my court.”
Maedhros glare at the half-elf in front of him and put his blade back on his belt, walking towards the small table and fill a cup with cheap wine.
After a moment, Maedhros looks back to Elrond. “No.” he says simply. “I finally found peace and happiness in the town and… I have Rose here.” He took a deep sip on his wine and filled his cup again. “Also, I don’t want to spend my days being glared at by snobby elves.” He says with a chuckle, knowing that any elf wouldn’t want a Noldor Prince in their city. Especially, a Noldor Prince that has been in two kinslays.
“You have your head at price, Maedhros,” Elrond finally says with a deep voice. “You aren’t safe here and… and you are putting Rose in danger too.”
Maedhros looks back to Elrond, his stormy eyes full of anger and concern. “How do you know that?! Who wants my head?”
Elrond sat on the small and old bed, and rub his hand on his face. “Some human band… They know what you and your family did to their ancestors and want revenge,” he says. “Their group may be small but it’s growing day after day, gathering more people that are bloodthirsty for the Noldor.”
Maedhros throws his cup to the wall and growls in anger. He was tired of conflicts and war. Tired of running. Tired of killing. Tired of being hated by everyone. All he wants now is to have small land, build a house for him, and for…Rose. To grow a family with her and wake up every morning with her sweet smile.
Elrond stood up and put his hand on Maedhro’s shoulder. “I leave by dawn… You can join me if you want.” with that, Elrond left the room.
Maedhros looks to the massive moon shining brightly in the dark sky. He knew what he must do but it hurt him so much.
Sighing, he put his cloak on and storm outside, climbing to the back of his horse and leave the town at full speed. If he needs to leave the town…to leave his dear Rose. Then he will do one last thing.
///
Humming softly at a lullaby that mother used to sing to me when I was a child, I comb gently my wild dark hair, trying to tame it but failing completely.
“Come on, hair! Stay straight for just a godamn minute.” I groan.
Suddenly, I hear something hit on my window. I stood up and walk quietly towards the window, scared to see what’s there.
I peek out carefully and sigh in relief when I saw Maedhros standing there. I smile gently and shook my head. “What are you doing here? It’s late.” I whisper.
He gave me a small grin and wave his hand at me. “Can I come in?” he asked.
I nod eagerly, watching him climb gracefully the vines on my window. My breath got caught as he stood there on my window sill, his stormy eyes looking at me filled with love and passion. I took a step forward and cup his cheeks in my small hands, pulling him into a deep kiss.
He moans against my lips and wraps his arms around my waits as he comes inside the room. I was wearing only my thin nightgown and I knew he could feel my erect nipples against his chest. I’ve never felt this much desire before. I just want to rip his clothes off and have his soft skin press against mine all night.
He pulls back and pushes a dark lock behind my ear. “I’ve missed you so much.” He whispers.
A giggle fell from my lips as I kiss his chin. “We were together some hours ago, you silly.”
He chuckles as he sits on my bed, pulling me to his lap. “I know but it wasn’t long enough,” he says as he rests his forehead against mine. “I love you.” He whispers.
I notice that something was wrong but I push it away, knowing fully well that Maedhros was a hard one to crack.
Smiling softly, I kiss his lips. “I love you too….with all my heart,” I whisper back. I began playing with the straps of his shirt, slowly undoing them. His eyes never leaving mine. I feel his large hand rubbing up and down my waist, moving lower to the back of my thigh.
I took his shirt off and help him take my nightgown off, seeing how his pupils dilated when he saw my naked body. He cups gently my right breast, his thumb stroking small circles on my nipple.
A lewd moan escapes from my lips, making me blush deeply. I lean down, nuzzling my face into his neck.
“Hey… it’s okay. You can make all the noises you want but I recommend that you don’t make any since your parents are right next door.” He whispers with a chuckle, making me giggle.
I could feel his own arousal between my legs, feeling a massive tent on his pants. Moving my hand down, I undo his pants and gasp softly as his member slips out. I never saw a penis before, so I was marveling down at the massive member between my legs.
I wrap my small hand around his shaft and gave it a gentle stroke. Maedhros moans and throws his head back. “Rose…” He groans softly.
Seeing him this vulnerable and full of pleasure, made my own arousal runs down my thighs. I lower my hips on his member and gently start taking him inside.
“Wait! Rose…wait…OhEru!” He moans as his stormy eyes watch his member disappearing inside me.
I bite my lip as I feel a sharp pain, noticing some blood on his shaft. I look to his eyes, my eyes wide and filled with fear. Quickly, Maedhros cups my face and kisses me deeply.
“Shh…It’s okay. It’s normal… just take your time.” He whispers. “Breath, Rose. Breath.”
I nod and took a deep breath, helping my body relax. After a moment, I couldn’t feel the pain anymore, instead, I feel pleasure burning my body. I began rocking my hips, taking more of him inside.
“Ahh…M-Maedhros… So good…” I moan as my movements become faster and harder, his thrust meeting mine.
He kisses my jaw and my ear, biting gently my earlobe while whispering ’I love you’ over and over.
That night, we made love for hours. I exploring his body and him exploring mine. After all that action, I fell asleep in his warm embrace, humming in pleasure as his warmth lulled me to sleep.
“I love you…never forget that Rose”
///
Climbing gently to the back of his horse, Maedhros looks back at Rose’s window. He knew that he should have to wake her up and try to explain to her what he must do but he was a coward and didn’t want to see her tears while she asks why.
“This is for the better,” he whispers to himself.
Sighing, he goes back to the town where he will meet Elrond and go back to Rivendell with him.
I love you, Rose He thought.
Hey Guys!! Here’s finally a new chapter of Pure Blood and oh boy, what Maedhros is doing?! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Feel free to comment and tell me what you think!
Also, if you like my stories, you can donate on my Ko-fi and support my writing there!
summary: y/n, a mirkwood royal advisor, is deeply terrified of spiders. when she sees one on her bed, she runs for the hills.
this story is pretty short, but i thought it was hilarious!
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—
Y/N’s shrill scream echoed through the palace.
“HELP HELP HELP!!!”
She ran as fast as her little legs could take her. Unfortunately, she gave all of the palace staff (other than a few of Thranduil’s guards) the weekend off. Nobody was there to help her except the King and Prince.
“Thranduil!!!!!” She yells, seeing him in the distance
“Y/N, what’s wrong?!” He asks urgently
Before she could tell him, she slipped. On the ground, she fell. “Ah, curse your perfect shiny floors!”
Thranduil picks her up in one swift movement. “Are you alright?!”
“Spider! In my room!” She exclaims, burrowing her head in Thranduil’s chest
Thranduil’s eyes widen. “Legolas, one of the monster spiders is in Y/N’s room!”
Legolas came running in, bow and arrows in hand. “I’ll protect you, Y/N!”
Thranduil and Legolas ran to Y/N’s room.
“This is why my staff doesn’t have off-days!” Thranduil proclaims
Legolas carefully prods the door open. “Where is it? Did it escape?”
Y/N squeals, almost falling out of Thranduil’s arms.
“It’s on my bed, it’s on my bed!!!”
Legolas drops his bow and arrow. His brow furrowed. Quietly, he stepped closer to her bed.
“That little thing?”
She was beyond horrified. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Legolas picks up the spider. Y/N wraps her arms around Thranduil’s neck and refuses to look. He opens the window and throws the little guy out.
“Y/N, is that what you were screaming about?” Legolas says, laughing
“Leggy…s’not very funny! Spiders are scary.”
Thraduil chuckled. “Well then I suppose we can’t let you into the forest anymore.”
Y/N tilts back, looking at Thranduil’s face. Her bottom lip juts out. “Why not?”
“There are these actual, Giant Spiders, that have been tormenting our borders for months. They are the size of me, and I’m over 6 feet tall.” Thranduil replies
“What?!” Y/N yells. “Why wasn’t this addressed in our meetings with all of the other Mirkwood elves?!!”
“Everyone has already known about it.” Legolas replies for Thranduil
“Well we are having a meeting on Monday and we are going to kill all of the big ass spiders!”
Truly, there isn’t enough of this concept on Tumblr! Thranduil is jaded, yes, but what if he found a person to make him happy again? Like just imagine him finally feeling unconditional love again. He would totally be so sweet to whoever the person is…maybe even putting aside their differences if they are human, dwarf, etc. And Legolas- imagine how he would feel- to finally see his father smile genuinely again. The elves of mirkwood would notice the change; it would just be this amazing thing! I encourage more writers (and readers) to follow along on a FLUFFY THRANDUIL JOURNEY :-)
Y/N watched as Elrond left Mirkwood. It was a bittersweet moment, but it was for the best. She needed to stay in Mirkwood to ease tension and create peace.
Thranduil came beside her and put his hand on the small of her back. She smiled up at him shyly.
“So you are here to be apart of my council, correct?”
“Yes. Elrond wanted me to stay here in order to help with your mood and people.”
Thranduil chuckled, despite the fact that he disapprove of what Elrond said. It was true. “Well I don’t have any meetings planned soon, so we should be okay with my mood for today.”
Y/N laughed and took his arm in a friendly manor. Elrond had already informed Thranduil that she was rather affectionate. The pair moved with grace as they walked away from the stables in which Elrond had departed.
“Why don’t you show me around the gardens? That was always one of my favorite parts of Mirkwood. They are unbeatable.”
He smiled at the genuine compliment. “As you wish.”
Thranduil led her to the gardens. While on the way, he charmed her with his stories. Admittedly, he was quite funny and down to middle earth at times. Y/N and Thranduil’s conversation easily flowed.
Y/N was just as amicable as Thranduil. And just as he had charmed her, she charmed him. Y/N was quite adorable in his eyes. Sure, she was not your stereotypical half elf. It was very out of character for Thranduil to fall for someone like her. Normally, he frowned upon half elves.
Alas, Y/N was enchanting. She already had Thranduil and Legolas wrapped around her little finger without even realizing that. Y/N held onto Thranduil, head on his shoulder. It was a pleasant feeling for Thranduil. Affection had been rare for him ever since his wife died.
“Thank you for taking care of Legolas when I couldn’t.”
Y/N smiled up at him. “Of course. He is like my own kin.”
“I’ve noticed. He even calls you Naneth.”
“Yes…he always did that as a child and continues to now. I cannot recall the last time he has called me by my actually name.”
“He is very fond of you.”
“Legolas and I are very close. It seems that sometimes I already know what he is going to say before he even opens his mouth.” Y/N agrees
“Tis good to know that there was someone there for him.”
“Well, now that I’m staying here forever, according to Legolas, someone will undoubtedly be here for him!” Y/N jokes
Thranduil and Y/N laugh. He holds the gate open to the gardens. Y/N thanks him and walks inside. Her eyes darted to her two favorite plants.
“Alfirin and Elanor!” she exclaims
Kneeling beside the plants, she smells them. Her eyes close and she grins. Thranduil was entertained by her reaction.
“Are those your favorites, bunny?”
She blushes at the nickname. “Yes, they smell wonderful and are quite beautiful. When Legolas was young, I would braid his hair with these flowers. They are our favorite.”
Thranduil smiles. “Mine as well.”
He sits down on a nearby bench. Observing her was an activity he was learning to enjoy.
“May I pick a few?”
“Yes, you may.”
After having a handful of them, she skipped back over to him. Plopping down beside him, she smirked up at him expectantly.
“What is it, bunny?”
“Can I braid your hair?”
He stares down at her, considering his options. She stares back at him and begins to pout. Her bottom lip sticks out.
“Pweaseeeeeeeeee Thranduil?”
“Agh, fine!” He submits, rolling his eyes
Y/N cheers. She takes his palms and fills them with flowers. The crown was placed beside him.
“First, I must French braid your hair. The flowers can wait!”
“You know, I already have flowers in my crown.” Thranduil says
Y/N rolls her eyes. “No silly, you aren’t wearing your crown! Not with my beautiful braid!”
“Akingwithout his crown?”
“Yes!”
Y/N’s gentle fingers pulled through his hair. It was silky smooth and lacked knots. Thranduil moaned as she tugged on one of the strands. Both went red in the face. It was a rather awkward situation. And Y/N did not like that.
“My sincerest apologies Thranduil. I have forgotten how sensitive elves can be when you pull on their hair.”
Thranduil said nothing in reply. Y/N began to section out his hair. Piece by piece, it came together. Finally, she completed the French braid.
“Could you tilt your head back for a moment, facing me?”
Thranduil tilts his head back. Y/N surveys his face, making sure there are no stragglers. She giggles at his serious expression.
“Lighten up Thranduil!”
“Lighten up?”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
“Figure of speech?”
“Ah, nevermind! Give me the flowers, please.”
He holds his palms out. She takes an Elanor and threads it into the braid. Before running out of flowers, she took the last two and stuck one behind each ear.
Y/N takes Thranduil’s hand and makes him stand up. A blush appeared on his face as she leaned up and kissed his cheek.
“You look wonderful Thranduil. Just like the elven king that you are.”
“Thank you, Y/N.”
She takes his arm and his crown. They walk to the palace, talking quietly amongst themselves. Though Y/N’s laughter echoed through the kingdom.
The staff was just preparing for dinner as they walked inside. An eager Legolas greeted Y/N exuberantly. She smiled, hugging him.
“Hello Legolas. How was your day?”
“It is even better, now that I have seen you!”
Y/N elbows Thranduil. “What do you think of the hair? Do a spin for us!”
Thranduil rolls his eyes, but does a spin. Legolas and Y/N laugh. It was a demoralizing situation for the other party.
“It reminds me of how you used to do my hair as a child. I love it.”
“Yes, that is why I snuck a few extra flowers in the crown. It was so big that I could fit them in here!” Y/N exclaims. “Now it’s time to do your hair, Legolas!”
“That sounds great.” He says, taking Y/N’s hand
Thranduil followed behind, watching the two interact. It fascinated him to see how close Legolas got with Y/N. He couldn’t remember the last time he had received a hug, or even a praise from his son.
Y/N was Legolas’s old childhood babysitter. Thranduil becomes infatuated with her quickly.
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Thranduil x Y/N
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Naneth! pt.1
Elrond and Y/N entered the kingdom of Mirkwood. She smiled softly, thinking of fond memories with the prince.
“Are you happy to be here?” Elrond inquires
“Very. Though I’m afraid Legolas may not remember me, as it has been long since I’ve travelled here.”
Elrond shook his head. “Legolas could never forget someone as extraordinary as you, Y/N.”
When Legolas was a small child and teenager, Y/N would often babysit him. Though never formally meeting Thranduil, she took care of his son like her own. Elrond had recommended Y/N and Thranduil trusted his word.
Soon, Y/N was the only caretaker Legolas ever wanted as a child. He would refuse to have anyone else watch over him as his father was gone on important missions.
Though as he grew up, her visits became less frequent. Their relationship faded over the centuries. But now, Y/N was back again.
Hope filled Y/N’s doe eyes. “Thank you, Elrond. We will just have to see how well I get along with King Thranduil.”
Elrond chuckles. “He’ll come around even if he doesn’t fancy you when you first meet”
A few guards noticed their arrival and bowed. Elrond nodded respectfully and asked for directions to the stables. The guards offer to take their horses so that they could travel on foot to the palace.
Elrond and Y/N dismounted their horses and walked through the village of Mirkwood. A charming place, it was!
“It’s just as I remember it.” Y/N says fondly
Elrond and Y/N locked arms as they walked through the village. They were incredibly close friends. Both knew that their relationship was nothing but platonic, and it was clear to everyone around them as well.
Y/N’s smile grew as they began to walk up the palace steps. She lifted her skirt with her free hand. Once reaching the top, Elrond greets the palace guards. They opened the doors for the two and they walked inside.
Legolas was the first to notice their presence. Without a second thought, he yelled “Naneth!” and ran to her. Thranduil perked up at the name, and turned around to face Y/N.
She opened her arms wide for him to crash into. Legolas nearly made Y/N fall from their impact. She laughed and held him close. His lanky arms encased her curvy body tightly.
Elrond approached Thranduil. Their quiet discussion had begun.
“Y/N hasn’t been here in centuries.”
Thranduil nods. “Yes. And it seems that she and Legolas are rather close.”
Elrond smiles. “It broke Y/N’s heart to not see Legolas, but she knew she had to let him go. He was very attached to her.”
“I can see that. He even calls her mother.”
Elrond freezes up slightly, looking over at Thranduil’s face. It had a melancholic expression as he studied the two closely.
“Y/N was the closest thing to a mother little Legolas had.” Elrond says boldly
“Hello, my dear Legolas. You’ve grown a whole foot since I last saw you!”
He lifted her into his arms and spun her around. Y/N couldn’t help the giggles that fell out of her mouth.
“And you’re as short as ever!” He teased
Y/N nodded. “Yes, the perk of being half human!”
“Why didn’t you come back, Naneth?” Legolas asked, a frown on his face
She smiled sadly. “You didn’t need me anymore, silly. You were plenty old enough to take care of yourself!”
He crosses his arms. “No! You were the best…and I really could’ve used your advice throughout my youth and even now. Naneth, you are staying here forever!”
Y/N laughed. “We will see, Legolas.”
Elrond clears her throat. Y/N goes red, realizing she hadn’t acknowledged Thranduil.
She curtsied at the two kings. “Hello, King Thranduil. I am Y/N. My apologies for not greeting you sooner.”
Thranduil motioned for her to come nearer. She stepped forward, a few feet away from him. He took her hand and kissed it gently, never breaking eye contact.
“Ah, a charmer I see.” She teases gently, a spark of playfulness in her eyes
“Something like that.” He smirks
Legolas and Elrond shared a look. Never had they seen Thranduil so friendly before. Y/N assumed it was normal, as she had never met Thranduil before.
“Hey Naneth, I want to show you around the castle again. My shot has gotten much better after all of this time!” Legolas exclaims
Y/N looks over at Elrond. He smiles and motions for her to join Legolas.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Thranduil.” She says respectfully
“You as well, Lady Y/N.”
Legolas took her hand. Y/N followed after the very eager Legolas. It reminded her of when he was a small child, always wanting to show her something. He was a very curious elf and loved Y/N so dearly; therefore she was the one he used to always show things to.
“Any ladies in your life, Legolas?”
He sighs. “I’m afraid not. The one who I loved fell for someone else.”
She squeezed his hand sympathetically. “Oh, that is awful!”
Legolas took her into his secluded shooting range. She sat at a bench and watched as he grabbed his bow and arrows. Y/N laughed.
“Do you recall that little bow you used to use? It was always too big for you when you were around 9 years old. You were so eager to learn that you dropped it on your foot, for it was too heavy. Then you couldn’t walk on your foot for the rest of the week!”
He laughed. “I remember that!”
Once knocking an arrow back, he inhaled. It was completely silent where they sat.
Y/N was good at studying people without saying much. After exhaling, he let the arrow go. It flew to the target, landing right on the bullseye. Y/N clapped, pleased at Legolas’s work.
“You have improved so much! Even when you were 15 you couldn’t make that shot!” She praised
Legolas blushed. “Thank you, Naneth.”
Y/N was surprised that he continued to call her mother, even at his age. But then again, he was incredibly close to her so it made sense. In Legolas’s eyes, Y/N could do absolutely no wrong.
Elrond and Thranduil watched from a distance. They stood on a balcony and spoke softly to each other.
“She’s beautiful.” Thranduil admits
Elrond smiles. “Very. Inside and out. Y/N is one of the kindest human-elves I have ever met.”
“She doesn’t have many elven features, other than the ears.”
“Yes, she looks more human. Nevertheless, her mom and dad were only ½ elves as well. That explains why she only carries elven ears. But if we are being honest, she’s acts more elf than human.”
“If she has been staying with you for the past 3,000 centuries, I believe it. Did you say she was around 4,000 years old?”
Elrond’s brow quirked. “Do you wish to court her?”
“Maybe.” Thranduil muses
Elrond was surprised, but masked it. “Yes, she is around there. Her parents died when she was 1,000 years old.”
“That is very young…”
Elrond looks over at Y/N pityingly. “It was long ago. She recovered and became one of my best members of my council. And now, I shall give her to you.”
Thranduil was confused. “Do you mean that my own council is poorly run?”
Elrond was quick to defend himself. “No Thranduil. But I know that sometimes it is hard for you to be relaxed, and Y/N is very calming. Not only is she easy on the eyes, but is wise and works with the people. She is fantastic at sorting out issues and working through them peacefully.”
“Well then she will fit perfectly with my council.”
“I will be sad to see her gone, but it was in my vision for her to be with you. It is for the best.”
Thranduil was intrigued. “Did you see anything else?”
Elrond only smirked. “All I have to say is be kind to her. She will be very important for your future.”
Both shifted their gaze to Y/N. She was currently encouraging Legolas to split his arrow in half with another.
“C’mon Legolas, show me some real skill! Be dangerous!!” She yells
He chuckles. “I know my father said not to but…”
“Legolas and Y/N!”
Y/N turned red and spun around obediently. Legolas also turned around, bow and arrow pointed at the ground.
“Don’t you break anymore arrows Legolas! We have gone over this.” Thranduil yells exasperatedly
Legolas snorted, turned around, and shot the arrow. Y/N bit her lip, attempting to stifle the giggle.
A/N: first post everyone! leave a request or comment if you please, but most of all enjoy babies!
—
Lindir x Reader
—
Stay Away From My Girl
Lindir’s attempts at hiding his disgust for the dwarves were…fleeting. Y/N bared an amused expression, looking over at Lindir. Gandalf went on about how they were descendents of the House of Durin.
Though Y/N, Elrond, and Lindir were not impressed. Not in the slightest.
“An interesting group, I suppose.” Y/N muses
Lindir’s nostrils flare. “I’ll say.”
“You’re going to need to cleanse that water in the fountain, Elrond.” Y/N teases
Elrond shakes his head, smiling brightly. “Oh, we will have to do more than that my dear Y/N.”
Their conversation was interrupted by one of the dwarves standing on top of the table. Y/N felt Lindir tense up and snorted. Smoke practically rose from Lindir’s pointed elven ears.
The dwarves began to sing their tipsy songs and throw food. Y/N chuckled and clapped along. She soon realized that was a mistake as the lead singing dwarf took her hand.
Y/N was deeply humored as the dwarf took her by the waist and danced with her. Unlike the other elves, she was rather short. At a very approachable 5’2, she came off as less intimidating and very amicable.
The girl playing the harp, as well as the other girl playing the flute had stopped long ago. Y/N chuckled as the small dwarf spun her around. Her simple yet stunning dress swished about. A complete contrast to the dwarves food and alcohol covered outfits.
Lindir watched enviously. He could not believe his own elven eyes!
Y/N?
Dancing with old beardy over there?
Oh Heavens no!
Lindir’s lips curled and his nose scrunched up. Y/N’s delicate fingers should have never touched that dwarves dirt caked stubby ones. Her hair swayed as he danced her.
“Lindir,” Elrond warns gently, sensing his companions fury
At this point, no words or encouragement would put a dent in Lindir’s anger. Not only had they drank all the wine, swam naked in the sacred pool, but they took his girl! His jaw tightened, as well as his grip around his goblet.
Lindir and Y/N had been each other’s lovers since they were young, foolish elves. Maybe about 14? A lot had changed since then, but their love forever remained true. Once elves fall, they fall hard. And boy oh boy did Lindir and Y/N.
But neither have committed to their feelings or obvious needs for affections. They were busy elves! Working under Elrond was no easy job. Dissmissing their feelings for each other was only natural.
“Who taught you to dance?” She teased the dwarf
“Us dwarves have a natural talent for dance and seduction!” He gloated
“Oh yes, I am sure!” She agreed
Y/N felt that she was being stared at. A certain elf was not pleased with this situation. Her eyes widened as a potato soared right beside his head.
Y/N tried not to laugh. She really did! But it was just so…ridiculous! A soft giggle escaped your lips at Lindir’s expense. He glared tensely over at her.
“Why Lindir, why don’t you just get Lady Y/N and leave!” Gandalf says
“Yes, we have it under control.” Elrond agrees
Lindir huffs and sits up from his position at the table. Careful to dodge any incoming food, he intervenes in their dancing. Without saying anything, he takes her hand and yanks her away from the dwarves and elves.
Staring down at the dwarf, he resists the urge to kick him. “Don’t ever touch my Y/N again.”
Gandalf and Elrond shared a look. Both chuckled and waved off Lindir, knowing fully well that Y/N would be able to tame him. She always did.
Y/N protested as they left the dinner. She was having fun, after all! Dwarves kept her very entertained, as their arrogance and stories were always comical and exaggerated.
“Lindir, stop pulling on my hand and tell me what is wrong!”
Lindir was furious. “You want me to tell you what is wrong?!”
She puts her hands on her hips and nods. “That’s why I asked.”
“That little thing danced with you and held onto your hands and waist like it was his own property! Those creatures bathed in our sacred fountains as if it were a public bath! Did you not notice the wine that dripped from his beard as he danced with you?!”
Y/N rolls her eyes. “Listen Lindir, they are called dwarves, okay? You have no right to undermine them as if they are meaningless. And also, I was having fun with the dwarves!”
Lindir came dangerously close to her. “Fun?”
Y/N was trapped against the palace wall. They were in a rather secluded area. No guards patrolled this part of the castle luckily, so nobody would see their moment.
“Yes Lindir…fun.” She mocks, attempting to walk away from him. “You should indulge in it sometime. Now I will be going back-“
Lindir grabbed her hands and gently braved her against the wall once again. He pressed up against her and towered over her petite figure. Anxious at the closeness, Y/N squirmed beneath him.
“Stop squirming, melleth.”
Heat rose to Y/N’s cheeks. “Melleth?”
He smiled, bending down slightly to rest his forehead against hers. “You have been mine since we were 14. Every elf with their head screwed on right would know that.”
Now that explains why nobody had ever tried to court her before! It was because of Lindir being…protective. Y/N would also be lying if she said she wasn’t also rather protective of him. No other female had dared to test her.
“And you are mine as well, Lindir.”
She knits her hands in his hair. Gently, she pulls his head down. His deep eyes stare back at her own. She smiled and kisses the tip of his redened nose.
Lindir’s lips were soft and completely unexpected. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sudden form of affection. Though, she was not complaint.
His hair was silky smooth. She tugged on his small fishtail braids. A pleasured groan left his lips.
And he smelled incredibly good! Like an evergreen tree and vanilla. It was like a drug to Y/N, and she just couldn’t get enough.
Y/N was hardly aware of his hands sneaking around her waist until he instructed her to jump. Y/N wrapped her legs around his own waist, nuzzling her forehead into his neck.
“And so it has finally happened!” Gandalf exclaims happily
Elrond nodded approvingly, a smug look on his face.
“I’ll bet their plan all along was to make me jealous.” Lindir says, rolling his eyes
Y/N giggles. “That’s my sassy elf!”
—
A/N: hope you all enjoyed…and sorry if you aren’t short, haha!
p.s. i’ll leave a link to the video that this is somewhat inspired by! it’s a bonus scene :-)
**You can find this story on Ao3 under the same username and title**
Cosima climbs the extra feet up to Alexander’s talan with little coaxing. Slowly but surely, she’s getting better, growing more confident in herself and facing her new life in the trees despite her fear of heights. If it were anyone else, I would have likely taken a ‘tough love’ approach by now and made them climb down from a considerable height, but the same feeling that stopped me from being rough with Cosima during training prohibits me from taking anything other than a patient, encouraging approach to her fear of heights. I love her, therefore, I can do nothing to hurt or frighten her, even if it would help her in the long run. It’s quite a jarring change from my three thousand years of successfully leading ellyn in one way. But with her, I am content to take as much time as she needs. I do hope we’ll one day move into my talan, or find one together that we can make our own, but for as long as she needs, I am capable of being content in the guest talan near the ground.
Once Cosima steps over Alexander’s threshold, I turn and head for the building that houses the main strategy and war rooms. A noise registers over my right shoulder and I turn, expecting to see Orophin falling into place.
I take in a breath once I remember that Orophin is not here. He’s in Imladris, with his wife, and the ellon standing near my shoulder is actually Rumil. Rumil, who is heartbroken with the absence of one brother and the impending loss of the other, has dutifully and without being asked assumed the position his brother left vacant.
Pride and tenderness surge through me. No matter when I depart this world, as long as Rumil is in it, it will be in good hands.
I clear my throat and face forward, resuming my walking. Rumil keeps pace easily. As we pass, ellyn nod or smile in acknowledgment of our return, but I do notice a few eyeing us in wariness. It is to be expected. We left with four ellyn and returned with three and two seemingly impossible humans. I do my best to project calm assuredness, as that has worked in past times of uncertainty.
Rumil’s quiet voice reaches my ears. “The eastern patrol returned about an hour ago and reported seeing smoke similar to what we saw, though perhaps fifty miles closer to our borders than the last fire. The Lady is waiting for us in her war room.”
I don’t react beyond a nod of acknowledgment, but internally, my mind races. Fifty miles in the span of a handful of days? My company and I rode like hell to get here as soon as we did…how fast are Sauron’s forces moving?
The guards outside Lady Galadriel’s war room step aside to let us pass, having been expecting us. I part the gossamer curtains and step through, Rumil only a step behind.
Lady Galadriel looks at me from where she stands at the far head of the rectangular table, her ageless eyes tightened with worry.
“Marchwarden, Sauron’s forces move closer to our borders.”
“So I’ve heard.” Without hesitation, I stand at the other head of the table, Rumil following to take the position at my right, the one Orophin used to occupy. The others in the room — high ranking wardens and patrol leaders — fill the other spots around the table and stand near the walls.
I find the one I’m looking for. “Lossel,” I nod at her, recognizing her as the one leading the eastern patrol last night. “Full report.”
She clears her throat and steps forward. “I led my group of four past our eastern border stations and well into the plains, per the Marchwarden and the Lady’s request. An hour before sunrise, we saw smoke on the horizon, in the direction of the town the Marchwarden found decimated while on his return journey from Imladris. It was closer to us though, about fifty or sixty miles by our best estimates. We intended to ride forward and investigate but —” she hesitates, then steels herself. “But wargs descended on our company.”
Murmurs ripple through the room.
“Quiet,” I grumble. All sounds cease instantly. I nod to Lossel, indicating that she should continue.
She doesn’t miss a beat. “By my count, there were twelve, but it sounded like there were more in the distance. We weighed the risk of fighting through and decided it was not worth the chance of someone losing their life. We returned here as quickly as we could in order to report and, if necessary, seek reinforcements and ride back out.”
My face remains a stony mask of calm, but inside, worry gnaws at me. I’ve known Lossel for nearly two thousand years, I helped train her myself. I know she does not balk in the face of an enemy, nor a threat to her life. So for her to call for a retreat…
Rumil furrows his eyebrows, looking at me in uncertainty. “When was the last time that many wargs were found so close to civilization?”
“It has been many years,” Lady Galadriel intones, her voice sounding distant and contemplative. From the faraway look in her eyes, I know her mind has gone back, far back, to the first time Sauron presented a threat.
Out of respect, I wait to see if she has more to say before continuing. When she says nothing, I speak. “The wargs are not yet close enough to our borders that I am worried for the safety of our people. We could take a larger company and return to the scene to wipe them out, but I believe that action would be premature. We do not yet want to alert Sauron to the fact that we are on to him, for that would significantly diminish our time to prepare. I recommend that, until new information arises that requires reevaluation, we leave the wargs be. Traveling will be cautioned against, and those who insist on going will be required to have an armed escort. As for patrols, we continue, but we prioritize stealth over speed and increase our companies’ numbers from four to eight. Our main goal will be reconnaissance, and we will take alternate patrol routes if necessary. I will contact the leaders of Lord Elrond’s and King Thranduil’s armies and officially put forth the recommended plan of patrol coordination we agreed to yesterday evening.”
“Didwe agree to it, Marchwarden?”
I recognize the sneering voice instantly. I turn my head slowly to my left, locating the ellon leaning against the stone wall. Rustion.
“We took a vote,” Rumil reminds him, voice hard.
Rustion bares his teeth. “It was barely a majority.”
“Both our Lady and Marchwarden back it, because it’s the right move,” Rumil defends.
“The matter of the strategy for coordination was debated at length yesterday, Rustion,” I say pointedly. “For the sake of efficiency, we will keep today’s discussion on the topic of how to handle the presence of wargs closer than they’ve been in recent history. If you have any input —”
“Perhaps it’s tied to them.” Rustion shrugs casually as if he didn’t just interrupt me.
I feel myself start to glower as suspicion registers. “Tied to whom?”
“Those stray humans you brought back from the plains.” His voice drips with derision. “Marchwarden, tell me you’ve considered it. Two humans supposedly not of this world and conveniently lacking vital memories appear, secure a place in the company of one of the most prominent Elvish families, spend a summer residing in the personal home of one of the great Elvish leaders of this realm, and apparently intend to make a life in the realm of our great Lord and Lady, who just happen to be the most powerful beings of our time? I cannot ignore the connection between one strange occurrence and the next. There should never have been a second attack on a village and there should never have been the presence of so many wargs so close to our home. I said it then and I’ll say it now: waiting is the wrong move. We should have massed our forces and tracked down Sauron’s legion the first time. The longer we wait, the more time they have to grow in power. The Marchwarden is so enraptured by his humans that he has allowed himself to be blinded to the connection between them and the dangers at our door. Since one of them has so obviously inserted herself into the life of our Marchwarden, perhaps he can no longer remain impartial. Perhaps, just while we investigate the full extent of the humans’ roles in these strange and dangerous occurrences, the Marchwarden should step down.”
The room goes cold and deathly silent. I feel fifteen pairs of eyes watching me, watching how I’ll react.
I don’t let any of my anger show on my face. Not only is he questioning my ability to lead, but he is — quite unjustly — speaking against Cosima, and I have no intention of letting either of those offenses pass without answer. But here in front of the Lady and the other leaders of this realm is not the place for such a confrontation.
I blink once, making myself look bored. “Your concerns have been noted. However, there is no evidence that the humans have anything to do with Sauron’s forces. If anyone else lacks confidence in my ability to perform my job, share that with the Lady Galadriel, as she is the one with the power to remove and appoint Marchwardens. For now, I suggest that we stop wasting time and instead focus on the urgent matter at hand.”
Lady Galadriel inclines her head towards me in a show of solidarity. If she ever personally questioned my leadership and asked me to step down, I would do so immediately. But I know Rustion’s words have not swayed her, nor anyone in this room. He is known to have contempt for my family and anger at his lack of promotion in the guard — two factors that seriously weaken his allegations.
Lady Galadriel speaks, her voice easily filling and dominating the room despite its softness. “I lack no confidence in you, my Marchwarden. You may continue.”
As I pick up where I left off, Rustion’s head falls in deference to his Lady, but I can feel him seething from here. This is not our first confrontation, and it will not be our last.
It’s ellon like him that can make this life seem so very long.
{***}
The meeting ends how I predicted it would. We vote, my plan wins near-unanimously, and we are released to attend to our duties. Remembering my promise to Cosima, I hang back, intending to speak with my Lady. Before Rumil can head to his next post, I motion for him to wait.
“Go to the library and see what you can find on Sauron’s use of wargs in the last war, specifically, the timeline. When did he start using them, how did they change the course of the war, and so on. Report back with your findings.” I furrow my eyebrows, guilt creeping in. “I should have asked Elrond about this when we were in Imladris. He saw it all first-hand.”
Rumil hesitates, then raises his hand, as if to put it on my shoulder. But after a moment, he drops it back to his side, having changed his mind. “You didn’t know. You cannot blame yourself for that.” He pauses, and then nods in respect before stepping back. “I will look into this, brother.”
Brother. I try not become too hopeful at his use of the title. There is still a long road to healing the hurt I’m causing him, and I fear I haven’t the time left to do it properly.
The realization — not that I am to soon depart this world, but the realization that I may have to do it without the forgiveness of my brother — weighs on me. I turn my thoughts on Cosima, on how she smiled at me this morning upon waking, the Lórien sunrise lighting her hair, and know that, though my price is heavy, it is one I would willingly pay again and again.
I pray that one day my brothers can understand that.
Thoughts of Cosima make me eager to return to her with favorable news, so I turn to approach Lady Galadriel.
She smiles at me, looking as if she expected me to turn to her. “Rustion’s conclusions are wrong, but his heart is for his realm. We cannot fault him for doing what he believes is right to protect it.”
Ican fault disrespect, but I don’t share that thought with Lady Galadriel. The slight quirk to her lips tells me she knows my mind well enough.
“What do you wish to speak with me about, Haldir?”
I waste no time. I pull the letter Elrond sent ahead and press it into her hands. “Lord Elrond explains everything in this letter.” I give her a moment to skim it over, noting the nearly imperceptible raise of her eyebrows.
“I see,” she murmurs, pressing her lips together in thought. “Moving through worlds would be a traumatic process, it is entirely possible their memories have vanished in an effort to protect their minds from remembering all they no longer have. The damage to their fæs could be a side effect.”
“Can you heal them?” Millennia of practice still cannot hide the worry in my voice.
Her eyes soften. “I have a few ideas, but I make no promises. Bring them to me tomorrow evening so I can take stock of the situation for myself and see what can be done.”
I release a sigh of relief and bow low. “Thank you, my Lady.”
“There is something else,” she guesses.
I nod, straightening. “Alexander wishes to return home. It is something he wants more than anything, and I feel he will not handle having to stay in this world well. I wanted to ask if you could do anything to return him to his home world.”
Lady Galadriel quirks an eyebrow. “Alexander is alone in his desire to return to his home?”
I try not to let my shred of worry and doubt become noticeable. “At present, yes. Cosima has expressed her desire to stay here, with your permission, of course.”
She smiles. “I have no issue with allowing a human to craft a life here. Either of them may make their home as they see fit. I will look into avenues for returning the humans — one or both of them — to their home world. The magic in this world is in motion, changing. I should like to think that very few things are completely impossible in times such as this.”
Again, I bow deeply. “I thank you. I will bring Cosima and Alexander to your study tomorrow evening.”
“Marchwarden, one more thing.”
I wait expectantly.
“Would you like to be released from your position?”
For the first time in many, many years, I freeze. “I—what? No — No, my Lady. I apologize if anything I did gave that impression.”
Her expression remains indecipherable. “I do not doubt your dedication nor your aptitude. Still, I offer you this out. I would not think less of you if you wished to spend the remainder of your life in peace with your human.”
I force myself to take a deep breath, then swallow down my shock. I roll my shoulders, clasp my hands behind my back, and am once again in control of myself. “Our world is in a precarious position. If this comes to war, I will see it through to its end.”
“And after?”
I blink. “I will prepare for the next one.”
Amusement lights Lady Galadriel’s eyes. “There are many more peaceful ways to spend one’s life.”
I set my stance. “I did not choose a life of peace. I have chosen my realm, and my guard, and until the time comes when you wish to send me from my post, I will serve with all my being.”
She takes a step towards me, the amusement fading into something like pity. I’m not used to being looked at in pity, and I want to turn away from it, but I cannot show that weakness. I force myself to look her in the eye.
“‘All your being’ is no longer all your own. Haldir, I say this as your friend of many millennia, not your Lady. You have been alone for so many years, and the life you crafted served you well during that time. But now your circumstances are changing. I would not fault you for changing your choice.”
When it becomes clear that I will not respond — whether from shock, anger, indignation, or fear, I’m not yet sure — her expression softens and morphs into the serene and watchful calm she is known for. “Dismissed. Get those letters to the other generals as soon as possible.”
Stiffly and feeling a little nauseous, I bow and exit the war room.
{***}
I write the letters swiftly and send them with the birds that carry our correspondence. After, meetings occupy most of my day. In the evening, I craft updated patrol routes and groupings, taking care to make sure each group is comprised of individuals who can cover each other’s weaknesses. By the time I resurface from my work, the sun is gone and I have been at my desk too long. Cursing inwardly, I race home to collect enough items so I can spend the next few days at Cosima’s, then head back towards the ground to her talan.
The door is locked this time.
I knock and smile upon hearing her hurried footsteps approaching the door. The lock turns and she swings the door back to let me in.
“Hello,” I greet, pulling her in for a kiss before I’ve fully crossed the threshold.
“Hi.” She smiles up at me and then tugs on my hand, pulling me farther into her talan.
“Sorry I’m so late,” I apologize, knowing it is well past the dinner time I had promised. “My work got the best of me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she shrugs easily and passes me two plates to take to the table. She follows a second later with drinks and sits across from me.
I raise an eyebrow, noting her plate. “You waited for me?”
“Of course I did,” she answers, like the idea of doing anything else would be silly. “I had a late lunch anyway. I spent the afternoon at Mirime’s. Did you know she has six dogs?”
I grin. “Those are only the house pets. Her family has a number of hounds they use for hunting. The ones that live with her are those that are too small, sick, or old to do their jobs effectively.” I pause, something occurring to me. “Mirime lives in one of the mid-level talans. You said you visited her there?”
“Yep!” Cosima beams. “She’s very patient.”
I scoff, pretending to be affronted. “I am very patient.”
She laughs heartily, and I can’t help but join her. “Sure you are, my love.”
I lean around the table and pull her lips to mine. She sighs into the kiss and rests her hand on my shoulder, playing with the braid that hangs there.
The action reminds me of something I’ve been wanting to ask her for some time. With Rumil in a better place, I feel like I can finally bring this up. And with Rustion’s line of questioning this morning and the wary looks I got today, I want there to be no question of her place in this realm and the trust I have in her.
I pull back and take both of her hands in mine, resting them against my knees. “May I court you?”
She raises her eyebrows and sends a bemused look at the bags I dropped by her front door. “You’ve practically moved in, is that not what we’re doing already?”
I grin somewhat bashfully. If my parents knew how out of order I’ve done everything, they’d be horrified. “Yes, technically, but I do want to make it official.”
Her smile softens and she leans in to press her forehead against mine. “Then yes, you may.”
I kiss her at length, forgetting all about the food on the table. When we are both breathless and smiling wildly, I stand, turning towards my bags.
“Wait here.”
I return to the table a moment later carrying a comb and a few near-invisible hair ties. Cosima watches my movements carefully but doesn’t object when I come up behind her and begin gently separating strands of her waves.
“As you know, our braids all mean something,” I explain as I begin twisting and intertwining her hair. “The one I’m doing now is a courting braid. It will communicate with others that we are together with the intention to marry.”
She leans her head back so she can see my face. “Do you have a courting braid for me?”
I smile and continue my work. “I will. I’ll show you how to put one in my hair after I finish with yours.”
Contented, she leans back in her seat and lets me continue the intricate braid. As is the custom, I keep it on the right side of her head. Once we are married, I’ll switch it to her left so it can hang over her heart.
Lady Galadriel’s words come back to me. There are many more peaceful ways to spend one’s life. For a second, I allow myself to imagine it. I leave the guard. Given Cosima’s — and now my — shorter lifespan, few would object. I would recommend my second to take over as Marchwarden and give Rumil more responsibilites. He’s ready, he would do well with more. With the guard in good hands, Cosima and I would have more time for each other. We could spend our days hiking in Lothlórien’s extensive forests, swimming in its crystalline lakes, reading and cooking and laying in bed all day. If the roads were safe enough, we could travel back to Imladris, possibly even taking Rumil with us, should he request leave from work. I could see Orophin again, and Cosima could see Lavandil. We could stay with them for a time, explore Imladris’s waterfalls and libraries. We could return to the place I first told her I loved her and spend as much time there as we liked. And then we could come back to Caras Galadon, or perhaps even somewhere deeper in the forest. Maybe one day, with enough time and research and effort, we could truly figure out what happened to place her in my world and allow us to meet. And maybe I would get the chance to thank whatever entities made it so.
Cosima’s fingers find my wrist and she leans back to stare up at me once more. “You okay?”
I blink, reverie breaking. “Yes. Sorry, I was thinking.”
She’s silent for a moment while I continue to braid. But then — “What were you thinking about?”
I take my time before I answer, trying to phrase it just right. “Would you ever want me to step down as Marchwarden and leave the guard?”
I feel her stiffen, then she turns to face me as best as she can with my hands still in her hair. “What brought this on?”
“Something Lady Galadriel said to me earlier today. I’ve just — I’ve never considered…” I pause and try to find my words. “I would like to hear your thoughts on this.”
She purses her lips and stares at me for a moment before answering. “I don’t like that your job is so dangerous, especially with how the world’s looking right now. It does worry me and I don’t know how well I’ll handle being stuck at home if you’re away in the thick of it all. But that being said, the guard is a part of you. It’s something you’ve given so much of your life to and I know how important it is to you. I would never want you to quit on my account. Plus, you are good at your job. This world is safer with you having a leadership role in it. If you want to step down, of course I’ll support you. But please only step down if it’s something you want to do. I can’t make that choice for you.”
She tugs on my wrist and I tie off the braid before crouching next to her so we’re at eye level. She grabs my chin and pulls me in closer. “I love you, I trust you, and I want you to do what’s important to you.”
I lean my forehead against hers and inhale deeply, relieved. I don’t want to leave the guard. If she wanted me to, I would, but since the choice is up to me…
Yes, there may be a thousand more peaceful ways to spend my life. But I’ve never been the type to seek a peaceful life. Pursue it for my people, yes, but I myself like my life with a little adventure, with some passion. The fire that’s been in Cosima’s eyes from the moment I first met her tells me she is of a similar mindset. Yes, we could retreat to a home in the forest, but at least in this stage of our lives, I have a feeling we both would quickly become bored. There’s still too much to do, too much to experience. And my role in protecting this realm helps keep it safe enough to do those things.
I press a kiss to her forehead and then stand again, squeezing her hand as I go. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” she smiles up at me and then, realizing I’m done with her hair, brings a hand up to feel the intricate braid.
Wasting no time, she gets out of her seat and hurries to the bathroom so she can look in the mirror. I follow closely behind her, wanting to see her reaction. She gasps in delight and trails her fingers over the braid, tracing it from start to finish, then tries to follow individual strands of hair. Her wide smile softens and she turns to me, pulling me into a hug.
“It’s perfect.”
After a moment, I show her how to put the braid in my hair. She’s unused to the technique, so it takes a while, but in about an hour we have a matching set. We stand like that for a while, arms around one another, admiring the visual representations of our commitment. Yes, my life is stranger with her in it, and full of choices that I never thought I would have to make, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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