#boromir fluff

[moonlit-rose-garden]

With You Till The End

A Boromir x Reader oneshot

Word count: 1,023

Reader is a skilled healer and the 10th member of the Fellowship. This mixes the events in the book, the movie, and some stuff I made up to make it more dramatic. The biggest difference is Boromir lives! Dialog will be a bit different as I don't remember all of it.

Boromir stumbled and leaned his shoulder against a tree. It all felt unreal. His body felt as if it were on fire. "I have failed..."

The adrenaline left Boromir's body, and he could no longer stand. Letting out a choked sob, he slid down the tree and looked at the blue sky.

"I failed them... the little ones, my brother, my people... I've failed them all..."

"Boromir!" He quickly looked towards the voice. Just a few feet away were his companions, Aragorn, (Y-n), Legolas, and Gimli. Quickly, they were by his side.

(Y-n) gently grabbed Boromir's hands. "Boromir... what happened?"

"They have taken the little ones." He tried to sit up, off the tree. Aragorn laid a hand on Boromir's shoulder, stopping him. "Be still."

Realizing he could not see Frodo nor Sam, Boromir frantically grabs Aragorns arm. "Frodo... Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go." Boromir's grip loosened and drops his gaze to his other hand, still in (Y-n)s. "Then you did what I could not... I tried to take the Ring from him."

"The Ring is out of our reach now." Aragorn reassured him. Boromir was silent for a moment. "Forgive me. I could not see it." He looks at his friends till his eyes land on (Y-n). "I have failed you."

"No, Boromir. You fought bravely. You kept your honor." (Y-n) hushed him and went to remove an arrow lodged into him.

He grabs her hand, stopping her. "Leave it. It is over. The world of men shall fall. All will come to darkness. My city will ruin..." His eyes water, tears threatening to fall.

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the Great City fall. Nor our people fail." Aragorn attempts to comfort him. His words make Boromir smile. "Our people... I would have followed you, my brother, my captain... my king."

(Y-n) shook her head, knowing they were saying goodbye. She pushes Aragorn away. "Be gone. Take Legolas and Gimli. Find the hobbits. I will care for Boromir."

(Y-n) gives a determined look to her friends and holds Boromir's hand tight. "Boromir shall not fall this day! My friends... we will see you again. Now go... make haste."

Aragorn bows his head as a goodbye, and he, Legolas, and Gimli quickly leave.

(Y-n) quickly got to work on Boromir's wounds. Removing arrows as gently as possible. "Why bother... I fear your troubles will be for naught... I won't make it through the night..." (Y-n) stopped for a moment to quiet a sob.

"Boromir... please... don't say such things." Her eyebrows stitched together, and tears filled her eyes. Boromir's eyes widened at her face, how it twisted in sorrow at the thought of his death.

For a short while, he said nothing as (Y-n) worked on him. "Boromir," (Y-n) breaks the silence. "I can not treat you properly with all these layers on."

Slowly, she helped him remove his cloak, surcoat, tunic, chainmail, and gambeson. The chainmail gives the most trouble with its weight and getting caught in his long hair.

(Y-n) heart hurt at the sight of his bruised and scratched body. She carefully cleaned and patched the lesions and punctures that riddled Boromir's skin.

He let out a hoarse laugh that caused (Y-n) to look at him confused. "This is not how I imagined you'd see me without any shirt for the first time." His smile left his face as he realized what he said.

"Oh. I apologize... I didn't mean..." Boromir weakly tried to explain. (Y-n) cut him off with laughter. He felt his heart beat faster as he watched her. Her laugh was beautiful.

"Worry not, dear Boromir. I thought the same..." She admitted with a small smile. Shocked, Boromir sits up slightly, looking at (Y-n). She's imagined them together, too?

"Can you... tell me what you imagined?" She asks slowly. He laid back, still watching (Y-n) as she put the finishing touches on the bandages that wrapped around his body.

Looking up at the sky, Boromir thought back to the last time the Fellowship made camp. "Last night... You were patching some of my clothes that I had foolishly torn... I watched you work by the light of the fire, and my mind wondered."

Despite the pain that rendered Boromir practically immobile, he couldn't suppress the happiness he felt getting to tell (Y-n). "I found myself wishing to hold your hands and your face. To feel you. To hold close to me with nothing separating us... I decided that when the war was over, I would ask for your hand."

A silence followed his confession, and he grew worried. "(Y-n)?" He sits up slightly to look at her.

She sat on her knees hunched over, hands clasped over her mouth. Her shoulders shook as she quietly cried. "(Y-n)?! Are you alright?" She looked at him, tears streaming down her red cheeks. All she could do was nod as a big smile graced her face.

"Oh, Boromir... I hardly allowed myself to dream that you felt this way. I thought surely you had someone waiting for you..." (Y-n) sobbed.

"I have only you in my heart." Boromir assured her and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "If... When we make it through this war, will you marry me, Dear (Y-n)? Will you be mine and I, yours?"

(Y-n) nods. "Dearest love... of course... I can think of nothing I want more..." Boromir beams. "I love you, (Y-n)."

(Y-n) scoots closer to his head and bends over, planting a kiss on Boromir's cheek. "And I love you..."

"I will be with you till the end, Boromir..."

The end! How'd you like it? Sorry if he's ooc. It's been a while since I watched lotr. Anyway, feel free to make requests!

Like what you see and want to show some support with more than a comment? Buy me a coffee! Ko-fi.com/moonlitrosegarden

[gloomwitchwrites]

An Unexpected Catch: Boromir x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: oral sex, piv penetration, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter Three

While investigating an attack on a Gondorian settlement, Boromir finds himself run through with a sword and tossed into a nearby river. When death seems dangerously near, Boromir’s body washes up to shore, tangled in a fishing net. A young woman living alone finds Boromir and brings him home to care for him. As Boromir physically heals, he finds that his heart is also missing something important.

ao3 // main masterlist // an unexpected catch masterlist

The sky cries. Large raindrops patter against the roof. From the door, you watch as Boromir braves the downpour, herding Daisy into her pen. The cow is stubborn, but she’s also scared.

“Come now,” he coos. “Just a few more steps.” Boromir’s tunic and trousers cling to his skin, his hair soaked and sticking to his face.

He is healthy and whole. Has been for some time. Every day presents the opportunity of his departed, and yet he does not go. Boromir stays, finding excuse after excuse to remain at your side. It is nice to feel so wanted. And he is kind. Gentle.

And what if I were your husband? Would you have me then?

Words spoken weeks ago now and yet they still linger in your mind, haunting your every thought. Boromir still reaches for you, finds moments to wrap you up in his arms for a few tender kisses. And though he always stops, sometimes the touching becomes bolder, the two of you falling into gasping pants as skin touches skin.

Long have I been drifting. With you, I’ve only known peace. Contentment. You are not my ship or anchor but my compass. I was adrift. But now I know nothing but calm seas and a forward path.

The small spark within your heart brightens, ensnaring your stomach, finding refuge between your legs. Your cheeks flame, your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

Daisy moos, and Boromir laughs, patting her on her rump before dashing for the door. When his gaze meets yours, he smiles, broad and bright and so full of love that you find yourself momentarily stunned.

“Angel,” he greets, coming to a stop before you. Boromir rests a hand against the doorframe. “May I come in? Or am I subjected to sleep in the rain?”

“Oh,” you laugh, stepping backward to allow him entrance. “Suppose you’re allowed to stay.”

“Suppose?” he teases as you shut the door behind him. “Have I been that bad?”

“Terrible,” you smile.

Boromir grasps the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Though he’s wet and a bit cold, the kiss is all searing heat. It shoots right down to your toes. But it’s not only one kiss. He takes another, then another. Each one becomes deeper than the last, until your mouth parts for him and he slips his tongue inside for a taste.

“You’re so warm,” he breathes, breaking his attention to your lips to gaze into your eyes.

“Cold?”

“Freezing,” he answers.

“I put some bedding down next to fire. You can warm yourself in comfort.”

Boromir’s smile is sweet. He gives you one more kiss before pulling away. Removing his boots, he sets them by the door. You’re about to turn away, but Boromir is lifting his tunic up and over his head. His trousers, heavy with rain, sag slightly, revealing a deep v and a trail of hair. You quickly glance away; hand pressed to your chest as Boromir discards the soaked fabric. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing the damp strands out of his face.

As you glance over your shoulder at him, you notice the shift in his gaze. The way he looks at you, it’s deliberate and wanton. Hungry.

“Come here to me,” he says, voice throaty and gruff.

Your limbs move of their own accord, gliding across the floor to him, entering his space, wanting nothing more than to be close to him. Lying to yourself would be silly. You adore this man. You cherish him.

“Will you stay with me?” he asks. “Keep me warm?” Boromir’s fingers dance along the side of your throat, trailing down to hook under the neckline of your dress. He pulls it to the side, the fabric falling down your shoulder, revealing bare skin.

Leaning forward, Boromir presses his lips there. You gasp. Shiver. Reach out. You’re pushing at his trousers, urging them down over his hips. Boromir is just as insistent, exposing more of you to his heated gaze.

His hands roam down, and then he’s pulling you into him, guiding you to the nest you made before the fire. There is no barrier. No walls to hide behind. Boromir guides you down onto your back, the two of you entangled in each other, kissing and touching until there is nothing but warmth and fire.

Before you, Boromir is all hunger. You are completely naked. Bare for him. Legs spread wide for his pleasure, his gaze is locked to that place between your legs, the one that aches for him and longs to be filled. You want to know him in all ways.

His hands rest on the insides of your thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

The compliment catches you off-guard. You’re so absorbed in admiring the beauty of him that you forgot to listen.

“Thank you,” you murmur, heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. It’s such a silly thing to say in the moment, but it’s all you can muster.

The corner of Boromir’s mouth quirks in amusement. His large hands stroke up and then down your thighs absently. The movement is soothing; your muscles relaxing beneath his touch. Boromir gently squeezes, fingers lightly digging into your skin as he flattens himself on his stomach. You watch from between your legs, momentarily paralyzed as he makes himself comfortable. You notice a slight wince, but it’s so brief you might not have caught it if you weren’t paying attention. His wound still hurts him on occasion.

Boromir glances up, the middle of his brow creasing slightly. “Do you want me? Do you want this?”

He might sound steady but it’s all in the eyes. There is pain there—a hesitation bordering on trepidation. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and it only makes your love for him soar higher.

“I want you,” is the answer you give, because it’s true.

All the muscles in his shoulders relax.

His chest heaves, and then his arms snake under and over your thighs, locking you in place. One hand splays wide over your lower belly while the other firmly grips your thigh. There is no escape from him, but you wouldn’t try.

“And I want you,” he replies, voice almost a growl.

He adjusts his hold, pulling you closer to his mouth. Boromir’s breath is hot against the inside of your thigh. From between your legs, his lips land against your skin just shy of his fingers. It’s slow but purposeful, each kiss moving lower and lower to what is clenching—needing him to be inside.

Boromir is not your husband, at least, not in ceremony. But why need there be? To be with him, to share in each other if both are willing is enough. That is all you care for anyway.

Boromir’s lip graze against you, and everything tightens, anticipating the moment he makes contact. The tip of his tongue just grazing over your sex. It’s a tease of a touch. A flash of pleasure that quickly vanishes. He repeats the movement, giving a bit more, sending you squirming in his hold.

You whisper his name, as he lazily run his tongue over you.

“Be still, my heart. I wish to enjoy you.”

Your fingers find his biceps the second his tongue returns, stroking slowly.

Your hips want to move. They want to seek out his mouth. To have the constant pleasure before it explodes into fragments. But you are unable to do much with your lower half. Boromir has you locked in, and he’s taking his time. Each stroke is agony, and yet utterly satisfying. The hand splayed on your lower abdomen descends, and you don’t really notice until a finger parts you, sliding inside.

This is different. This is more, and that is all you desire. To be more with Boromir.

Boromir sucks gently, the tip of his tongue making little circles. Your back arches, hips flexing, but there is nowhere to go. It only shoves you further into his hold. Your breath comes in short pants, breasts heaving with every inhale. Every part of you is tightening, the coil building under pressure. Like floodgates preparing to open, you too are close to bursting.

Another taste. Another stroke.

All the limbs and muscles in your body suddenly clamp, shaking. The exhalation is cut off—choked—before blooming into a depraved moan.

Tension releases, and then you’re truly writhing beneath him. Boromir does not cease, his tongue and fingers moving in tandem. You claw at his arms, gasping for breath, wanting to beg but unable to find the words. They keep escaping you, floating off into the air where you cannot catch them.

“Boromir,” you cry, tears beginning to form in the corners. “Please—I can’t. No—no more. No—”

With that singular word, Boromir withdraws. He kisses the indies of your thighs, moving upward. Soothing your heated skin with kisses.

“We can stop,” he murmurs. The heat of the fire has chased away the dampness, leaving his skin dry and hair slightly damp.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you tremble, hooking your leg over his, drawing him close until his hardness rocks against you.

“We are not bonded before our people. Does that not worry you?”

“No,” you answer. “The stars will be our witness.”

With a pleased groan, Boromir pushes your left leg wide, and with the other, brings your right leg flush against his front, ankle at his shoulder. He hooks his arm around the leg against his chest, creating an anchor. His free hand rests against the inside of your thigh. There is pressure at first. A brief bite that quickly eases as your bodies come together. His shoulders are a bit hunched, body leaning forward slightly as he drives forward and back, skin smacking against skin. Other than that, it’s just your breathing and his, and the slick sound of you taking him.

This time you’re free to writhe against him.

Reaching out, you try to grasp for anything. What you receive is tenderness. The hand on your thigh disappears, and Boromir snags your seeking hand, trapping it against your pelvis. He holds it, fingers intertwining.

“Look at me,” he growls, his hips stuttering slightly. You glance up. Make eye contact. It is brief. Fleeting. You are unable to hold his gaze. “Look at me, angel.”

Your eyes snap open, and Boromir grinds his hips against you, chest heaving. “Repeat after me.”

Between thrusts and throaty groans, you and Boromir exchange vows. And when the last word is finally spoken, Boromir drops all pretenses, draping himself over you as he claims you as his wife. You cling to him, fingers digging into his skin, holding on so tight you fear you might draw blood.

There is none. Just shared love. Shared pleasure.

And the night is no longer cold. Nor are the days that follow. At every opportunity, the two of you couple. Sometimes it is Boromir reaching out. Sometimes it is you seeking him.

Days pass. Then weeks.

You are content. Happy.

And then you’re shattered. Confused.

“Boromir? Who is this?”

You stand just outside the front door, perplexed by the scene before you. There are three men on horseback in Gondorian armor. They look regal. Imposing. But the fourth is almost a mirror image of Boromir.

Boromir steps back. Inclines his head. “This is my brother. Faramir.”

Faramir bows his head. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. But I’ve come to retrieve my wayward brother.” Faramir gives you a soft smile. “Father’s been worried.”

Boromir frowns, his expression grim. “How did you find me.”

“We stopped at the nearby village. Asked if anyone had seen a man that looked like you. A fisherman said he say you here while on his boat.”

You step forward. “Are you leaving?”

Faramir is the one that speaks. “The Steward of Gondor commands it.”

You turn to Boromir, your voice lowering to a whisper. “Who are you?”

Boromir approaches, placing his hands on your arms. “Come with me.”

“Who are you?” you repeat.

With a sigh, he answers. “I am Boromir. Son of Denethor. Steward of Gondor.”

“You’re—”

The revelation is a tumbling boulder. All this time, the man you’ve been looking after, caring for, will one day sit on Gondor’s throne, protecting it for when the True King returns.

“I’m sorry I never told you. Thought it best. To keep you safe.”

“Safe from who?”

“Are you angry with me?”

Are you? No. Not because he kept this from you.

You shake your head. “You’re leaving.”

“I must,” he murmurs. “And you are to come with me.”

You laugh. “I can’t. What about my father? The animals?”

“Faramir and I have already discussed this. Someone will look after the animals while we search for your father. I’ll have him brought back here once we locate him.”

“But I won’t be here. I must see him.”

His hands come up to cradle your face. “And he will. But you will come with me. Back to Minas Tirith. I will have him brought to you, and then before our families, we will be joined.”

You hesitate. Life outside your home has been nothing larger than the nearby village. This is travel. This is adventure. This is the unknown.

“Do you promise?”

“Angel. I will give you the world.”

It is easy. Simple.

Just your hand in his, and a promise of a new future.

[hjori-kunoichi]

Definitely guilty of overworking love the kindness

Imagine LotR characters reacting to you having had a long day ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn is tireless when it comes to work, so sometimes he’ll forget the time himself. He’ll silently scolds himself then, because he wants to you to be able to relax once your work for the day is done. He would offer to make you a calming tea with herbs he’d search for you in the forest, so that you can unwind together in the evening.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would be the kind of person who keeps checking in during your work, be it physically or mentally demanding – or both! Either way, she wants to make sure you’re not overworking yourself. In the cases you do have a long day anyway, she will remind you that it is over now and that you should take it slower tomorrow. She’d offer you to cuddle and stroke your hair, and you’d calm down through her ethereal presence alone.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would be the type of person to visit you at your workplace and, should the day almost be over, distract you tenderly from what you were doing so that he could steal you away and would get to spend the evening together with you. Be it hugging you from behind when you’re sitting at your desk or laying his hand over yours, holding the tool – the man can hardly wait to you for himself again, and he is not ashamed to show it.

Keep reading

[wild-lavender-rose]

What Comes After - LOTR

Pairing: Aragorn x fem!reader, Legolas x fem!reader, Boromir x fem!reader, Faramir x fem!reader, Elrond x fem!reader

Category: Preferences/NSFW

Summary: What they would say/do after you've cum hard for them

Warning: NSFW, insinuation of sex, aftercare

Legolas-

Whispered elvish between stuttered gasps of air

"Are you all right?"

Hovering over top of you, brushing the hair from your face, cradling your cheek as your body shivers from the aftershocks of pleasure

"I'm here, you're safe. I'm here."

Light kisses on your face

Holding you carefully as you both steady your breathing

Aragorn-

Shushes you as you gasp and shake, rubbing soothing circles against your thighs and hips while you come down from the high

Whispers assurances as he lays beside you, continuing to rub your sides and arms while watching your expressions closely

He smiles when you do, relieved that you're okay and he hasn't pushed you too far

Will run his fingers through your hair and compliment you on your performance

Gathers you into his arms the moment you reach for him, holding you close and whispering his love for you over and over again

Boromir-

Is initially proud of himself and the fact you're a quivering, gasping mess

His smirk fades as your breath remains stuttered, holding himself up over you

"Are you all right?"

You nod but he doesn't believe you

Flips over and moves you so that you're laying on top of him

Rubs your back and cards his fingers through your hair as your body relaxes at the sound of his heartbeat

Still pretty proud of himself

Faramir-

Would think he had done something wrong

Kiss you all over, assessing you with worried eyes

Would hold you the moment you reached for him

Gazing into your eyes, whispering again and again "I'm here, I'm here"

You would kiss him deeply to assure him that you were fine, a kiss he would gratefully return

Elrond-

He would encourage you to cum one more time for him even after you've cum so hard

Would kiss you once you're totally spent, slow and deep

Whisper elvish in your ear

Would leave briefly to gather some wine, a basin of hot water and a cloth

Sponge bathes your sweaty, heaving body, leaving a trail of kisses in between

Helps you to drink some wine

Would hold you carefully, talking about everything and nothing as you fall asleep

Fanfic Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tales from Middle-Earth: Preferences - First Kiss Moments

Chapter 3: First Kiss Moments

Characters In Order: Aragorn, Arwen, Boromir, Elrond, Eowyn, Eomer, Faramir, Frodo, Gimli, Haldir, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, and Sam

Warnings: Suggestive only slightly (mentions of passionate kissing), and fluff

~~~

Aragorn;

Rain clung to both of you like a second skin as you stumbled into shelter, dripping and breathless. His hands cradled your face as water slid down your cheeks, his own hair plastered to his forehead. There was no hesitation, only the ache of relief and raw affection as his lips met yours, warm despite the cold, wet from the rain and the sheer urgency between you.

~~~

Arwen;

She moved closer with a serenity that felt otherworldly, brushing your cheeks with featherlight kisses, one after another like scattered petals. Her smile grew softer as she peppered your forehead, nose, and jaw with affection, every touch stealing your breath a little more. Then, with a stillness like moonlight, she found your lips with hers - soft and certain - as if she'd been waiting lifetimes for that moment.

~~~

Boromir;

It had been so long since you had last seen Boromir. But after a month of letters back and forth, you saw him across the misty field. Before you could even stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck with abandon, catching him mid-step. His breath hitched before he crushed you against him, one strong hand at your back as your lips met in a kiss so fierce, so desperate, it left you both stunned, clinging tighter than ever.

~~~

Elrond:

There was silence in the library. You were admiring the world outside the window as Elrond joined you, abandoning his book. He stepped close enough for your breaths to mingle, his gaze never leaving yours. The air between you crackled as you closed the distance, your hands drawn to his robes like ivy to stone. Though no words left your lips, the thought rang through you like a bell - kiss me. You didn’t even need to ask. He leaned in, brushing his mouth over yours with purpose, before fully pressing his lips against yours.

~~~

Éowyn;

The moment crackled like firelight, full of longing. Her fingers tangled in your hair, desperate and unafraid, pulling you down to her. When your lips met, it was less a kiss and more a declaration of survival, of want, of a love that refused to be soft or silent.

~~~

Éomer;

It started shy - a hesitant brush of lips that could’ve been mistaken for an accident if not for the fire in his eyes. But then, as if the dam had broken, he caught your face in his hands and kissed you again, this time deeper, rougher, as if he realized he couldn’t bear another second without the taste of you. The softness was gone, replaced with something far more consuming.

~~~

Faramir;

You had been tracing the curve of his mouth absentmindedly, fingertips featherlight and slow. He barely breathed under your touch, watching you like a man spellbound. When his hand came up to cup your chin, the hesitation vanished. He tilted your face toward him and kissed you softly and reverently.

~~~

Frodo;

It started as a slow build, your hands intertwined and your foreheads resting together after a slow dance in the Shire. But when your lips finally met, it stole the breath from your lungs. There was nothing tentative in it - only the depth of emotion, the weight of everything unspoken. Even when the kiss ended, neither of you could open your eyes, as if you were trying to hold onto the feeling just a second longer.

~~~

Gimli;

You leaned against the cold stone of the stairwell, one step higher than him, the height difference making him scowl in that endearing way. He grumbled something about “even footing,” but it didn’t matter - his hands found your waist, making you take a few steps down as he took a few steps up, the artificial height difference almost equal as your fingers carded through his beard, and his lips met yours in a kiss that was earthy, solid, and utterly unforgettable.

~~~

Haldir;

There was no sound but the wind through the leaves as you both stared, unmoving. His gaze flicked to your lips and back again, and it was like gravity shifted. You leaned in without thinking, barely aware that he was doing the same. When your mouths finally met, it felt inevitable.

~~~

Legolas;

He kissed you like poetry, slow and rich with meaning, each movement filled with care. And when he finally pulled back, his lips hovered near yours, still sharing the same breath. He whispered something soft in Elvish you couldn't understand, but the way he looked at you said everything: that he was yours, utterly and forever, and that this was only the beginning.

~~~

Merry;

It started as a dare between laughs, something silly and impulsive - but it didn’t stop. One kiss melted into another, and before long you were still locked together, still breathing each other in. His hands gripped your waist as your lips moved slowly, endlessly, until you both forgot where you ended and the other began.

~~~

Pippin;

He threw his arms around you in a hug so tight it almost knocked you off balance. The kiss came as part of the whirlwind - sloppy, sweet, and honest. It took your breath away, not because of perfection, but because it was so utterly him: impulsive, golden-hearted, and full of joy you didn’t know you needed until that very moment.

~~~

Sam;

The kiss was soft but growing - your hands in his hair, his trembling fingers tracing your waist. The moment held promise, deep and hungry with something more, until the rustling of branches and a familiar voice startled you both. You pulled apart, breathless and flushed, hearts still tangled as your eyes darted to see Frodo, wishing for just one more second.

~~~

Taglist Is Open;

@verynormalsstuff

~~~

Tales From Middle-Earth Masterlist

Preference: What To Know Post

[hjori-kunoichi]

I would be dead. Hah cute

Hello! I hope your day has gone well. I feel like I'm always too busy to remember to request anything, but I had a nasty migraine with aura this morning so I'm taking it slow for once. Could I request Boromir for mystical magical Saturday? If possible, with a reader who's in the fellowship as well or something along those lines. You're like a Boromir beacon and we are all just moths coming to your light. Thank you very much for all that you do. :)

Aw thank you so much! Sorry that this is weeks late. I think I got it late last time I did this and I kept it with the intention of it being the first one the next week, but then I skipped a couple of Saturday’s and here we are. Hope you like it!

The Prompt: Feeling in the Dark

Most nights saw the fire still going, low as it was, it was still warm and there was a fair amount of light. The mines had changed things though. This night, Gandalf thought it unwise to have a fire going while most of the fellowship slept. The darkness had been consuming and you had felt almost suffocated in the space. No matter how long you sat, sleep evaded you. Your eyes opened and nothing changed; it was as dark as it was with them closed. Blinking a few times, you sighed, perhaps you should take over the watch. If someone else would be able to find sleep when you couldn’t, you’d be happy to give them the chance. As quietly as you could, you shifted to your hands and knees. You knew the hobbits were close by and you didn’t want to step on any of them in the dark, so you moved slowly, reaching out to run your hands along the stone floor.

You moved in what you were pretty sure was the direction of the door, only bumping into what you were sure was Pippin once. As you moved towards the only bit of light in the room, you tried to remember who was supposed to be on watch. There was something soft under your hand. Your eyebrows furrowed as you gently squeezed the cloth, wondering if you had found Sam’s pack.

“Did you need some kind of assistance?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as the low voice sounded next to your ear. Whipping your head to the side, you saw Boromir’s face move into the sliver of light that filtered in through the door. Your whole body felt hot as you realized that your hand was on his knee and instead of moving away, your grip tightened. Boromir chuckled and you pulled your hand away, incomplete apologies spilling from your lips. His hand moved up and gently rested on your shoulder, causing your words to cease as you caught your breath. Boromir waited as you gathered your thoughts, your body still hot.

With a sigh, you met his eyes, “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I would take over the watch. I hadn’t intended to…” you waved your hand in his direction and Boromir laughed again. You tensed, “I’m sorry.”

His hand slipped from your shoulder as he shook his head, “No harm done.” You nodded, though your body still felt tense. Boromir’s hand gently wrapped around your shoulder and he pulled you closer to his side, “Shall we take this watch together then?” Where your skin had previously started to cool down, it heated up again as you nodded slowly. Boromir smiled to himself, his gaze moving between you and the door as you finally started to relax against him.

[shirefantasies]

hii! love your writings, I was wondering if you could do a reader x fellowship (plus eowyn and arwen) where reader is usually seen in armor and unkempt garments + dirty hair but then one day they show up (probably for an event) in beautiful fancy clothes, hair did and everything? Thanks!!!!

scREAMS I LOVE THIS YES. Warning: minor blood mention in two

LoTR Characters Seeing You Dressed Up For the First Time

Aragorn

Both of you had only borne witness to the other in times of battle and survival, not exactly the most formal of circumstances, but such had never even occurred to you until the night of celebration in Rohan. King Theoden invited you to the company of his family, offering his niece or nephew to take you to a bathhouse and present you with a new outfit. Aragorn turned your way the moment you stepped out, eyes positively glowing with reverent awe focused entirely on your form, your smile as your gazes met. He said nothing, simply drew closer until you could feel his warmth upon you. "The people of Rohan have been good to us," he said. "Yes," you agreed with a nod, "I wish we can give as much back. But perhaps we should start by enjoying their hospitality, hm?” “Indeed. Let us keep this night for ourselves. I fear if I stray too far, though, I may get lost in you.” “Don’t worry,” you whispered, lips quirking upward as you pulled Aragorn into the fray of dancers, “I’ll be here to pull you back, too.”

Legolas

Legolas managed to seem dressed up in nearly anything he wore, a feat you certainly envied! Your travels left you feeling like a drowned rat half the time or else just dirty and bedraggled. When the elves of Lothlórien offered you housing, bathing, even food and dancing for two nights, no had fled your vocabulary entirely. Taking their hands, you were swept off into a river of luxury, emerging clean and smiling and draped in the finest fabrics. An elf on either side, you made your way down to the lower flet upon which your hospitality lie, the way Legolas turned his head not once but twice unable to escape your notice. "What?" You teased, aware at least of his shock to see you clad so differently. "You didn't know what I looked like beneath my helmet?" "I didn't know you looked so nice beneath it," He conceded with a smile, stepping closer, "Perhaps we ought not to return it after this night."

Boromir

Had someone asked him, Boromir would never have said he wanted someone with blood under their nails and sword in hand. That was him, that was his job. And yet he felt something different when he clapped a hand to your shoulder after you saved him in combat. When you emerged at the party dressed up, though? His heart swelled five sizes. He should have known- you could do anything. “Putting everyone to shame here, aren’t we?” “What do you mean?” You asked, gaze flitting deliciously down to the hand Boromir laud upon your shoulder, all but challenging him. Accepting it, he rested the other on your hip, urging you out into a dance. “Looking better than them in both mail and finery.” “I suppose I’m just lucky.” “No, I am,” Boromir shot back, “For I am the one who gets to have you in my arms.”

Gimli

To use Gimli's words, around each other you two tend to remain "fully armed and filthy". It is Lord Elrond, of course, who offers an alternative state upon your entry to his homely-house, granting you the reprieve of your first bath in far too many days and even a new outfit. Elvish craftsmanship was like nothing else, delicately embroidered and soft and light unlike anything that has ever graced your skin. Reactions were something you hadn’t considered in the slightest, but as soon as you emerged you found yourself giggling at Gimli’s parted lips and removal of his helmet as if in some reverence you had not earned. “Now this,” he nodded with a smile of approval as he swept an arm over your entire form, “This is the one thing the elves have gotten right.”

Frodo

The tailors’ shop was busy this morning. Bilbo needed a new set of threads to replace some tugged-off buttons, but every working hobbit was rushing around before Frodo could even ask if they had a spool of forest green to spare. What were they- “Frodo!” He would recognize that voice anywhere. Turning, he caught sight of you in the middle of a fitting, the tailors having been flitting about your form as they worked on quite a fine outfit for you. “What do you think?” Spinning around and then striking a joking pose, you fixed him right in the eyes, and it was like an arrow struck him, taking the very breath from his lungs. Finally Frodo’s sense and words returned to him, bringing a smile to his lips. “It’s perfect.”

Sam

You had worked with Sam plenty of times in the gardens, so he had seen you countless times in things like overalls or pinafores or aprons and thought you looked fit for any king and castle. But then came Fatty Bolger’s birthday party, a bash all his friends were invited to…and plenty of other hobbits would find themselves at anyway. One such was you, and knowing you’d be dancing you got cleaned up quite nice, standing at the edges of the lantern-hung floor hoping you might be noticed. And noticed you were, for you caught Samwise Gamgee as he controlled his gaping expression and shook his head out before he approached you, asking if you’d honor him with a dance.

Merry

Gimli was teasing you as Merry entered the room, feeling his heart shoot into his throat at a mere glimpse. He caught a few spare words from the dwarf, including him asking you if you had someone you’d like to impress. “Hush,” you chastised him, “What if he hears you?” At that, Merry couldn’t resist stepping forward. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress,” he told you, eyes full of wonder, “But he’s an absolute fool if it doesn’t work.” “You really think so?” Your tone, your hopeful look, those beautiful eyes Merry could drown in. “I know so.” “Well,” you glanced away, “That’s good. Very good, since it was you.”

Pippin

Tired and bedraggled, you all but fell into the arms of the elves of Lothlórien, blissfully bathing and shyly accepting the fine garb they offered you. Tugging it into place, you emerged through the doorway, unaware the rest of your fellowship waited beyond the threshold. Soon as his eyes fell upon you, Pippin's jaw dropped, his lips slowly curling upward into a wide smile that had you mirroring it, gaze dropping from his. “Wow," Pippin breathed as you drew closer still, hands hovering in front of him in the space between your bodies, "You- you look- Wow. They’ve certainly given you a fine…wow.”

Faramir

On the battlefield you had fought side by side, faces obscured by steel and focus. Soldiers from two armies melded as one. Yet here you were simply citizens, representatives of your people. Diplomats even on the dance floor. All thoughts of such relations fled from Faramir’s mind, though, as your form filled his vision. “Never did I think I would be granted such a moment as this,” he confessed as you took his hand and gripped about his neck, body swaying against his.

Eomer

Theoden, Rohan's king, was giving a celebration all were to attend. Something of a victory revel, but you must confess that you just looked forward to the dancing. Stuffy as it may have been, it was also quite fun donning a nice outfit, your reflection beaming back at you. The expression carried on all the way into the great hall, shining into the hanging lights. You caught sight of a head turning the moment you emerged. A golden head. Eomer. With a wave, he dismissed the man he spoke to- a fellow soldier, you presumed- and strode before you. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" "To the same thing everyone else does, I suppose," you teased in response, "This revel." "Well, remind me to thank my uncle later," Eomer replied with a wide smile, extending a hand in a clear invitation to dance as his eyes traveled up and down over your form, "Shall we?"

Eowyn

She had worn a smile of surprise when you even removed your helmet for the first time in her presence, let alone donning your finest. When it came time for a celebration with her people, a far different garb hung from your body, all in gorgeous fabrics and colors perfectly complimenting your own hues. As soon as you stepped into the light of Rohan's hall, Eowyn positively grinned, her eyes of soft blue alight. Taking up a cup from the table by which she stood, she crossed over to stand before you and offer you a drink, which you accepted. "The garb of Rohan suits you perfectly," she complimented, "Do you plan on dancing?" It was worth seeing the progression of shock and speechlessness melting back into a grin when you extended a hand and replied, "If you will have me."

Haldir

Working side by side meant seeing each other in some of the worst moments, sleeves slashed and blood seeping from wounds. Armor caked with dirt and quivering devoid of arrows. Body carried to healers with reddening bandages hastily tied around limbs. And yet this, this is what shocks him. Haldir’s breath is utterly stolen, not of concern or fear this time, but in the manner of one first seeing the falling stars. “Stay still,” he breathes, almost pleading, “Let me take you in for a moment.”

Galadriel

You were a warrior by profession. In a way, at least. One such that mail was your garb far more often than any dress or robe. Thus, when you made to visit the elves of Lothlórien, you were shocked to see the fine things they'd lain out for you, pulled gently onto your body as if you deserved servants. In fact you had tried to protest, but they had simply smiled and shook their heads as fine jewels were hung about your neck. That you had earned an audience with the Lady Galadriel, was a testament to your service you would not soon take for granted. Thus, as you stood before them, you made first to lower yourself in reverence. Before you could fully adopt your posture, though, you felt the grip of a soft hand beneath your chin gently pulling you back up. Soon you were raised to meet Galadriel's eyes. "You need not bow to me. I confess I wished very much to see you like this. Come with me, if you please."

Elrond

Some might say the Lord of Rivendell should not look upon a soldier such as he did. Some of those same voices might have spoken up of the love of man and elf that had brought forth his ancestors. Not that he would not have understood. Yet as it was every time you removed your helmet something stirred in Elrond that had not done so for some years. And then one night came the celebration, a festival to which all in his counsel were invited, you included. It was that very night, in fact, that he realized how little he had seen of you outside the patrols you took together, and the same in which he would confess to you how he felt beneath the moonlight, finally spilling forth every word of your beauty you deserved.

Arwen

Had you asked her, she would have thought not at all of your dress. Your heart was what she loved, the way you cared and the way you smiled whenever you looked upon someone dear to you. Yet the day of her birthday, you draped yourself in your very finest, emerging in the view of an Arwen who could not bear tearing her eyes off of you. Grinning her beautiful grin, the elf took your hand and immediately twirled you, viewing you from every angle with her expression never faltering. “You look amazing,” she told you, "For a moment, I thought I was dreaming."

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude | Reply/Message/Ask to join 💕

[thewulf]

My Queen || Aragorn

Summary: Request - Can I pleeeease send you an idea where he finds a girl in the woods, hurt and not conscious but he feels the need to help her and be close to her. So he takes care of her wounds till she wakes up and it's like true love at first sight for both of them... Read Rest Here

A/N: OH WOW, this got out of hand QUICK but I had SO MUCH FUNNNN writing this way! It was a challenge but it felt invigorating to write. I am obsessed with Aragorn and I just love him. Margot Robbie is so right for her cinematic crush! Thank you for the request anon, hope you love it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 10,000 +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings, Aragorn being hot af

Just a few more stumbling steps. You could do it. Glancing down you grimaced at the crimson coated and tattered dress that you’d been wearing for the last five or so days. It used to be so gorgeous, a gift from the man you were meant to wed. Truly it was the only exquisite gift you’d ever received in your entirety. However now it looked as if it’d seen a thousand lives, just like the elves had. It bore this resemblance due to the attack on your home. You ran. Running far away from everything you knew. It was tough to grasp just how much you’d been through in the five days since you had to flee your small village just outside of Eriador.

You’d had a good life. Good but rather simple. Almost too simple for your taste. You were engaged to be wed to the local jewelers son at your father’s doing. He had assured you over and over again that going through with the wedding would lead you to a life that he could not provide you. A life you were destined for. Your mother, Valar rest her soul, had been killed a few years prior in an attack on your village leaving you with your father and a small place to live. But it was home.

The local jeweler boy, Newall, had asked you to take a walk around the village right before the tragic events occurred. One moment you were giving him your kindest smile. The next he pushed you into the woods after hearing the screaming coming from the village center. Not making your most brilliant decision you decided to follow behind him only to come to the horrifying realization that your seemingly insignificant village was being brutalized by Orc’s. You stood there frozen in fear as you witnessed men, women and children being slain as if they meant nothing. 

It was only when you came face to face with one that you realized how much trouble you were in. Valar save you. He must’ve listened because the Orc simply look at you, growled and pushed you into the side of the house you were standing next to. But then it dawned on you that he wasn’t done. The creature walked to you terrifyingly slow, standing over you before driving it’s sword into your side. Before you could even yelp out in pain the orc vanished leaving you to die presumably. But it was a shallow wound. It didn’t seem like it was trying to do too much damage. Orcs knew one thing, killing. It was odd that one would have spared you.

When you finally came back to the reality of the situation you knew you had to go. Run to Bree. Your dad always instructed that’s where you needed to go. You had an uncle up there that could look after you. Deciding not to waste another second you rushed inside the house grabbing whatever clothing you could find. Tying a pair of Newall’s pants around your waste to hopefully stop the bleeding you only grabbed a little bit of food before you made for the forest. You’d have to find something along the way. The trek to Bree would take nearly a month on foot.

Using the stars as guidance you moved through the forest you knew very well. It started out fine. You were trained to do just this. Your father had made sure of it. What you hadn’t considered was the poison from the orc blade that was slowly taking its toll on your body. It was the fourth night that you realized you were in serious trouble. On the fifth day you decided you weren’t going to be able to go any further. No wonder the Orc didn’t just kill you there. He left you to suffer. What a vile creation. 

It didn’t take you long to decide on where you wanted to die. You found a nice tree under the shade of the leaved with a comfortable base. You were just going to go to sleep and hopefully never wake up. Hopefully the poison would just do what it wanted to and let you finally go. 

That did not happen though. You felt a light kick on your boot forcing your eyes to open. What you weren’t expecting was a rather handsome looking ranger with ice blue eyes to be staring right at you. Considering what to do.

“Miss,” He knelt down after whispering something to his horse, “Are you injured?” His surprisingly concerned eyes spotted the blood that coated your worn-down dress.

Taking a long breath, you mustered enough strength to answer the stranger, “Yea, Master Ranger.” You let your head lean back on the trunk of the tree relieving the strain it seemed to put on year mere consciousness.

“Forgive me, but you do not look it miss.” His head was level with yours as he moved closer to you. He didn’t dare touch you without your permission, but he wanted too, you were not all right like you so miserably tried to convince him.

A shallow breath escaped you, “I fear I have been stabbed by an Orc blade Ranger. I do not have much longer.” Your eyes flicked away from his in a pathetic attempt to rid him of the conversation. He would have no such thing though. Leave a fair maiden to perish on her own? Not on his accord.

“Strider.” He corrected you. It wasn’t often he’d give out his Ranger known name to strangers, but you seemed harmless enough. What could a human woman such as yourself have done to deserve such a fate he wondered before continuing on, “We are but a half days journey to a small town called Sarn Ford. Have you heard of it miss?” He asked in hopes of seeing your eyes open once more.

You did as he wished and looked at him again, “Sarn Ford? Oh dear. I’ve gone the wrong direction.” You grimaced in pain as you tried to sit up higher on the tree trunk.

“Where are traveling to miss? On your own?” He held out an open hand for you to take. He left the decision on if you’d accept the help up to you.

Eyeing his hand, you knew he was prying. But he seemed trustworthy. The Rangers of the North were meant to be. Strider as he called himself. Your eyes met his again and you caved right then and there. He looked genuine, like he thought he could actually help you. Like you were not too far gone. With all the strength you could muster in your quickly fading body you put your hand in his, “Aye. My village was attacked by orcs. Third time in the last five years. They got me this time.” You sighed trying your hardest to stay conscious, “I was meant to travel to Bree. But I must have taken to the wrong direction. I will be blaming the Orc poison for the misdirection.” You let out a pained laugh trying to lighten the tone of the conversation going on between the two of you.

“All right. Off we go. What is your name?” He asked you needing to know to continue.

He watched you intently sputter out the words you were trying to get out. His fear of orc poison was right, you truly did not have that much time left. With your permission he scooped you up in his arms, called his horse over and positioned you in front of him while he rode. He knew you did not have enough strength to hold on from behind. He knew It would be a challenge to keep you upright on the journey back to Sarn Ford. He was meeting Gandalf there, anyway, might as well help the woman who he had taken a fast liking towards. Even Strider could see the beauty in things, and you were mighty beautiful in his eyes. Even coated in layers of dirt and grime he knew you shined like a star above him.

“Y/N.” You admitted to the man not feeling up to lying to him. You would likely be dead before dawn anyway. You would have hoped he would find a way to let anybody surviving know of your unfortunate fate. But in reality you were just another causality of war. A human life cut far too short.

“Lovely name.” He smiled lowly as he held you into him. He could feel you were fading in and out of consciousness as he held onto your waist tightly.

You hummed in thanks not having the strength to reply to him.

“Hold on miss Y/N. We will be there soon.” He spoke into your ear startling you back onto the middle earth side of consciousness.

But as much as he tried you had succumbed to your own fate. Blackness took over before you reached the village of Sarn Ford.

Much to your own surprise your eyes opened once more. You peaked around seeing all sorts of supplies. You must have been in some sort of healers room you concluded quickly. Looking down you were not in your attire you had been found in but a simple dress that you were more accustomed too. Being so caught up in your own accord you had yet to see the two men. Well one man and one wizard standing off to the side conversing as you came back to reality.

“Welcome young one.” The wizard spoke. You had never seen one before. Thought they were the thing of legends. But sure, as it would be one stood before you. They were easy to spot. Had an aura about them.

Your eyes snapped back to Striders looking at him in surprise. He was more handsome than you remembered as the sun beat down on his features through the window in the hut you were in, “It is all right.” He nodded at you, “This is Gandalf the Grey, he is an old friend of mine.”

“Hello Gandalf.” You broke your eyes away from the stranger your somewhat knew and turned your head towards the wizard.

“How are you fairing?” He asked whilst leaning onto his cane.

“Fine now. Thank you.” You turned toward Strider who made his way closer, “Thank you Strider. For without you I fear I may have been dead by now.” A shiver of realization ripped down your spine as you admitted it out loud.

He bowed his head, “I am honored to have been of service miss Y/N.” You looked over to him giving him a bashful smile. He was really so handsome. More handsome than any of the boys or men in your small village.

“Are you well enough to travel?” Gandalf asked breaking the trance the two of you had been locked in for a moment too long to be just friendly glances. Gandalf was considered wise for a reason. He had an inkling feeling there was something budding between his usually broody friend and the pretty human girl he had found in the woods. Maybe you were his gift from Valar. Every great leader needed one. Who was Gandalf to question the gods.

“I believe so.” You sat you wincing only slightly as the wound in your side. Strider wanted nothing more than to push you back down and curse the wizard who suggested you move so soon.

“Miss Y/N. You need to rest a little longer.” He insisted placing a gentle hand on your shoulder preventing you from standing.

Gandalf grumbled, “You must get to the Prancing Pony Inn. I’m going to meet Frodo now. Time is of the essence Aragorn.”

Your eyes crumbled in confusion. Who was Aragorn?

He did not leave you time to question as he grabbed at your hand, “Come miss Y/N. We have a ride to take.”

You sat at the bar table with Strider who had hood of his robe covering his face. You grew more uneasy as the night wore on at the Prancing Pony. The horse ride was quick thankfully. And much to your delight the Hobbits Gandalf was speaking of finally appeared. Right on time.

Strider shot up from his seat, “Wait here miss Y/N. I must save the Hobbit.” He sighed before bounding off into the depths of the bar. You felt even more uneasy as the eyes around you made their way to your shaking frame. You were nervous.

After far too many moments alone he grabbed you by your arms, “Come Y/N. We must hide.” He directed you to another room than the ones you had planned on staying in.

“Strider?” You asked following him up a set of stairs you were unfamiliar with.

“Nazgul. I’ll explain later. For now, you must sleep. We have a long journey to Rivendell. Especially with the Hobbits.” He let a long breath while opening the door for you. Quickly, you were attacked by questions from the four little Hobbits. Happily, though you answered every single one before lying next to Strider who promised to keep watch.

“You should get some rest too.” You whispered hoping not to wake the sleeping Hobbits.

He nodded, “I shall. In due time. I fear we have something coming.”

Your frown was evident as he continued to try and comfort you, “Do not fret. I am keeping watch for a reason. We are safe.”

“I believe you Strider.” You yawned not being able to keep the tiredness away for much longer.

“Rest.” He commanded.

You were far too tired to argue that as the darkness crept in.

You were woken when the screeching next door commenced. The Hobbits must’ve had more sensitive ears as they were already up and staring at Strider who looked glum.

“What are they?” Frodo asked.

He sat at the window looking at the five of you, “They were once men. Great kings of men. The Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power.” You felt a shiver ripple across your body. You’d heard the legends and did not believe those either. Yet again, another thing coming true right before your eyes.

“We must move.” He commented seeing the Nazgul retreating away from the inn.

You must have walked for miles until Strider had the five of you rest at the old watchtower of Amon Sul. You stood there behind the Hobbits staring up the decaying rock structure before you. It must have been grand in its time.

Once you were seated next to the Hobbits he stood and tossed each of you a weapon, “These are for you. Keep them close. I’m going to have a look around. Miss Y/N, will this blade be too large for you?” He handed you a smaller sword for you to try.

“I fear you have too much faith in me Strider.” You unsheathed the sword holding onto it carefully, “But this will work.” You nodded towards him.

“You shall not have to use it. In case only.” He pointed at each of you, “I will be back. Rest. Make no noise or sound.” His command was easy to follow. A natural born leader it seemed.

You woke when you heard Frodo yelling from beside you, “What are you doing?” He yelled a little too loud. You rose from the ground you had managed to sleep on and watched the interaction unfold. You cursed when you saw the fire going. He had not explicitly said no fires, but the intention was there.

“Put it out you fools!” Frodo cried. You rose from your slumber and haphazardly helped him put it out.

The horrifying cry you heard from the Nazgul the night before rang out from outside the watch tower.

“Oh no.” You spotted them coming towards you, “No Strider?” You turned to Frodo with a horrifying realization.

He shook his head, “Go! Up!” You followed the Hobbits to the top of the tower and waited. You shivered when you saw them come from the shadows. You heard nothing but your hammering heart in your chest. This was it. This could be the end. You sword was shaking in your hand.

“Back you devils!” Sam screamed trying to shield them off. You blocked a shot but was stopped when Frodo pulled the ring out. You gasped when they all ran from him. To your horror when he put the ring on he disappeared.

Strider came out of nowhere blocking back the Nazgul from all of you. You ran to Frodo in horror seeing the man defend the five of you with ease. A few of them went up in flames as kept fighting them off. They had enough when he got another went up and flames and ran off. Strider quickly came over to the five of you surrounding Frodo. You had your hand on his horrifyingly black wound. You’d never seen poison like that before.

“Help him Strider!” You cried in a shaky voice once he kneeled down next to you.

He picked the sword up shaking his head slowly, “He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” The blade vanished in his hand as Frodo writhed beneath you, “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

You looked down at the Hobbit in pain and let a single tear fall, “We will get you the help you need mister Frodo. Rest assured.” He picked the Hobbit up and began running, “Let us go.”

The four of you trailed Strider in a daze. The Nazgul screams seemed to ring out from every direction as you ran, “Hurry!” he shouted at the four of you with Frodo crying in his arms.

“We are six days from Rivendell! He will never make it!” Sam cried sending a shuddering realization through you.

You simply heard a faint whisper come from Strider ahead of you, “Hold on, Frodo.” From Strider who kept running and did not acknowledge Sam. As tired as you were you had to keep moving for Frodo’s sake. You ran and ran until you could no more and then you ran some more.

He only stopped when he ran into three petrified trolls. He set Frodo down looking around frantically. You and Sam went over to look after him. Same placed a gentle hand to the despondent Hobbit.

Sam shuddered at the touch, “Mr. Frodo! He’s going cold.”

“Is he going to die?” Pippen chimed in. You stood back looking over the shivering Hobbit who long since stopped crying out in pain.

Strider turned to the five of you with a concerned look crossing over his features, “He’s passing into the Shadow World. He’ll soon become a Wraith like them.” He stated so calmly. Your face grimaced at the horrifying realization. Frodo becoming a Nazgul?

Strider continued, “Sam, do you know the Athlelas plant?” You listened in but bent down to hold Frodo’s hand hoping some comfort would help the gasping Hobbit. His eyes were glazing over with something of a blue sheen that sent shivers down your body.

“Athelas?” Sam asked confused by the question.

“Kingsfoil.” Strider tried a different name.

Sam nodded, “Kingsfoil, aye, it’s a weed!”

“It may help the poisoning. Hurry!” He pushed the Hobbit off, “Miss Y/N. Stay with Frodo. We will be back with help.” You nodded holding onto his hand dearly.

Not a few moments later you saw the help arriving. A beautiful elf strode over and down to the quickly fading Hobbit. You took a step back as she took a step towards him. You gaped at the beauty that she was leaning down to your newfound friend. An elf in real life. She was beyond your wildest imagination. You had been told of their beauty, but this was bordering on ethereal.

“I am Arwen. I have come to help you.” She whispered into his ear, “Hear my voice. Come back to the light.” She grabbed at his hand while Strider handed her the plant.

“Who is she?” Merry asked quietly as Frodo was tended to.

“Arwen, an elf.” You whispered repeating what you heard her speak to Frodo not seconds ago, “She’s going to save him.” You said out loud to convince yourself more so than the group of Hobbits.

“Frodo,” She whispered, “He’s fading.” She sounded concerned as she looked over to Strider, “He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father.” The two of them stood as Strider grabbed at Frodo, “I’ve been looking for you for two days.” She said to Strider. You watched as the scene unfolded before you not wanting to get in the way of whatever was occurring.

“Where are you taking him?” Sam asked confused and terribly concerned for his friend.

He was ignored as Arwen continued, “There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know.” You watched as Strider put Frodo onto the horse with ease.

Suddenly Strider started talking in what you assumed to be Sindarin as you could not understand what they were saying. They must have agreed upon something as Arwen hopped onto the horse and took off with Frodo. Your mind was sent into a spiral as you guessed where he was going and off so quickly.

“She is taking him to Rivendell. To Lord Elrond for him to be healed. She is the faster rider and will get him there sooner. Come, we must go.” He motioned for the group to keep moving, “Miss Y/N, will you walk with me?”

You nodded speeding up your pace to match his, “Master Strider.”

“Strider is fine.” He hummed as he led the group out of the forest somehow knowing exactly where to go.

“Is he going to make it?” You had to ask him. The thought of his passing was eating at you.

He nodded, “His best chance is with Arwen. The sooner we get to Rivendell the sooner we will find out.”

“Well then let us speed up our pace then.” You smiled up at him.

He chucked and nodded. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence as you occasionally made sure the chatty Hobbits behind you were faring all right.

“She is pretty.” You spoke after a while of not being able to get Arwen’s face out of your mind.

“Arwen?” He questioned you giving you a curious once over seeing that the statement seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Aye. She is beautiful.”

“She is. Most elves are.” He agreed with you, “She is wed to another healer. Her father set the marriage up ages ago before you great great grandmother was even a thought.”

“Oh, to have the lifespan of an elf!” You laughed feeling the weight of whatever tension you were holding onto about Arwen be lifted.

“I bet it is not all that it seems to be.” You nodded as the two of you continued on the trek to Rivendell occasionally chatting about random things back and forth. You were so caught up in him you failed to notice the Hobbits watching the two you of converse the entire journey back as if you were already a married couple just strolling the lands.

“Welcome to Rivendell miss Y/N.” Aragorn smiled when he saw your gaping face taking in all the scenery stretching beyond your wildest imagination. He too was struck in awe by its beauty the first time he had come across it all those years ago.

“This cannot be real.” You gasped as he took your hand, pulling you along to look along the city.

“Aye. It is. Come, I want to show you your living quarters for the time being.” He pulled you along knowing exactly where to go in Lord Elrond’s castle. He stopped in what you assumed to be the center seeing two people walking towards the two of you. The wizard and a dark-haired elf stopped just short of you.

“Ah, welcome young one.” Gandalf walked up with who you assumed to be Lord Elrond, “It is wonderful to see you in one piece. Unlike our young Frodo.” He chuckled not realizing what he had said sounded bad without knowing how he was.

Your face dropped, “Oh no, did he not make it?”

Gandalf shook his head hastily in realization of his error, “He is fine young one. A few more hours and he would not have made it.” Gandalf stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder in reassurance, “Aragorn here will show you to your chambers.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Aragorn? You said that back in Sarn Ford as well. Who is Aragorn?” This really was not your place to speak in front of so many important people. But you were always a curious one, so you had to ask. The worst they could do is refuse to elaborate any further and you would not press. You did understand boundaries even if you pushed them.

Strider looked at Gandalf with a question in his gaze. Gandalf always had a plan. He could see the feelings bubbling to the surface for Aragorn for his newfound human companion that had to be a gift from Valar himself. Gandalf knew the longer he kept his identity from you the harder the breach of trust would befall the two of you.

Gandalf nodded giving his friend a push towards you. He knew Aragorn had to admit this to you himself. You saw Lord Elrond cock his head in confusion watching the interaction go down. He must not have been privy to what had been going down in Gandalf’s mind.

“Ah, miss Y/N. Strider is my Ranger name. It is my identity. As is Aragorn. Son of Arathorn.” He spoke slowly watching as your face twisted from confusion to realization. You may have been from Eriabor, but you surely knew who Arathorn was.

He continued, “I am also called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor."

“A rightful King?” You asked him with widened eyes. You had no clue that you had been traveling with such a company. You had been so crass it made you want to run away right then and there, especially with Gandalf and Lord Elrond’s amused gazes watching the interaction between two humans.

He nodded, “You are correct.”

“Aragorn.” You spoke for the first time giving him a wide smile, “I do like it. It suits a King such as yourself. Would you mind if I continued to call you Strider though?” Bowing your head slightly you felt a rush of embarrassment pulsate through you. Why were you so unladylike? It was all so thoughtless when he was just a Ranger. Not a bloody King of Gondor.

He waited until your eyes met his again, “No need to bow miss Y/N. And thank you. You may call me either.”

A quick head nod was interrupted by Gandalf, “We must be off. Aragorn drop the young one off at her residence. You are free to explore the castle and Rivendell. But we will need you to meet us in the gardens. We have much to discuss before the Council of Elrond shows up in a few days.” Gandalf spoke directly to Strider who just nodded in agreement.

“Come miss Y/N.” He took your hand and pulled you along quickly, “You will enjoy your stay here. It is a wonderful place. There is quite a bit to do, and the elves are very kind.” He tried his best to reassure you knowing that Gandalf was right. You could not go on. You were not prepared for this kind of journey to any extent. Gandalf also revealed of Aragorn’s known feelings for you. You would be a distraction he could not have along the journey.

“It seems like it.” You grinned thankful you were able to do your own thing for the afternoon. You felt bad for Strider or Aragorn. He seemed to have quite a bit of business to attend to.

He stopped at a door letting you inside. It was small but quant and rather extravagant. Fine details laced every surface. You’d come to expect nothing less from the elves, “I will find you later. Enjoy your day miss Y/N.”

The days went by slowly as you got acquainted with Rivendell. You had the sneaking suspicion your journey was also stopping as Strider was not so keen on giving you any information even though he was gone for days on end.

It was on the day of the gathering of the Council of Elrond that you had all but given up. That was until there was a rapid knocking at your door. Thankfully your elf maiden Nimloth had made sure you were dressed as Strider stood before you with a smile on his face, “Come miss Y/N. The Council of Elrond is starting soon.”

“I am invited?” You were sure there was a dumb look on your face.

He nodded slowly, “Gandalf insisted. Lord Elrond relented.”

You followed him in silence to the gathering of the council. You sat behind Frodo closer to Lord Elrond and away from all of the action that was sure to go down.

It was not long after you took a seat that Lord Elrond stood gathering the council to begin, “Strangers from distant lands, friends of old and new,” His eyes met yours giving you a small wink before continuing on, “You’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo.” A shiver ran down your spine at his straight to the point opening. This was not good.

You watched as Frodo stood and dropped the ring on the stump in the middle of the council.

You heard the man called Boromir speak up, “So it is true.” He looked at the ring with something of desire lacing it. You looked at Strider who was watching the man skeptically. He continued, “The doom of man. It is a gift.” Your heart raced at such a senseless statement. You watched as Strider grew angry at his arrogance.

Nevertheless, Boromir continued, “A gift of the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father the Steward of Gondor kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against them.” He passionately spoke hoping to gain the agreement of the Council.

But Strider would have none of that false speak, “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.” Your heart rate sped down at the sensible statement to the man you had grown quite fond of in your week or so of traveling. You had grown a strong liking to the handsome Ranger who saved your life without a second thought.

Boromir looked skeptically at Strider, “And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” He asked with a smug look to his face. You wanted to slap that look right off of his face for he had no clue who he was talking to! A king!

But the elf called Legolas stood quickly in his defense, “This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, Son of Arathon.” You watched as his face scrunched up in a minor irritation. He had tried so hard to keep that a secret and now it was out, “You owe him your allegiance.” He finished looking just as irritated as Strider did. It still felt weird to call him Aragorn. So, you kept up with Strider.

Boromir turned back to him, “Aragorn.” He spoke with a hint of shock in his tone, “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“An heir to the throne of Gondor.” Legolas spoke earning a glare from Strider who spoke to him in Elvish quickly. You wondered what he said because Boromir looked suddenly very angry.

Boromir nearly spat with vengeance while looking at the blond elf, “Gondor has no king.” He turned to look back at Strider and shook his head, “Gondor needs no king.”

Gandalf spoke up breaking the tension among men, “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”

Lord Elrond stood, “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

The dwarf called Gimli stood then, “What are we waiting for?” He grabbed his axe and sliced at it in attempt to shatter it. Of course, that did nothing but startle the entire council into submission.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin... by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond spoke matter of factly. You watched as Frodo nearly collapsed from the pain and realization. You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder hoping he would find some solace in the touch.

Lord Elrond continued, “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.” Your heart was hammering in your chest at the realization. This would be no easy task for anybody let alone a Hobbit and human group, “One of you, must do this.” Lord Elrond commanded sending your head into so many different directions. Would Strider go? Would the Hobbits? Surely you would never be able to go. No, Strider would never allow it. He had made that very clear.

Boromir sighed, “One does not simply walk into Mordor. It’s Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly.”

Legolas was angry now. He shot up from his seat spitting his words at the man, “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.”

Gimli spoke up next, “And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!” The tension grew in the air as everyone began to feel uneasy of the task at hand.

Boromir stood next, “And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

Gimli continued, “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!” He shouted. Your eyes went wide as everything seemed to be going away from the goal at hand, “Never trust an Elf!”

The group erupted in bickering as you and Frodo sat back in fear of what was going to happen. All but suddenly you watched as Frodo stood. He shouted, “I will take it.” It took him a few attempts before the group heard him.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.” He said again once everyone had quieted down. You gulped as you watched the scene unfold.

He spoke again, “Though, I do not know the way.”

Gandalf nodded, “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins as long as it is yours to bear.”

You sat further back into your chair as you watched Strider stand, “If by my life or death I can protect you I will.” Your heart sunk at his words. He caught your forlorn gaze and gave you a simple smile. He walked to Frodo and knelt before the small Hobbit, “You have my sword.”

Legolas stepped forward, “And you have my bow.” Your heart raced seeing the elf walk forward. Thank goodness he volunteered. You had heard stories of the mighty elf warrior of Mirkwood.

“And my ax.” Gimli agreed as he walked towards the growing group. You stood from your spot away from the group, closer towards Lord Elrond. Almost as if you had already known your assigned fate.

Boromir joined slowly, “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council then Gondor will see it done.” He stood by the group.

Suddenly the other hobbits joined in earning a hard-earned smile from Lord Elrond.

“Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” You watched as Elrond anointed the group complete. Your downcast eyes found Striders who looked at you with all the care in the world. You were more than nervous for the man you had grown so fond of so quickly. Dare you say you might actually have real genuine feelings for the man standing in the group of nine.

“The journey is no place for a lady.” Strider insisted as he pulled you away from the fellowship. He had conjured up a hundred scenarios in his mind and decided you could not come after seeking the guidance of Gandalf. It was far too dangerous for someone as delicate as you were. He shuddered at the thought of seeing you with a sword far too big for you trying your best to defend not only yourself but the Hobbits from the Nazgul. He never wanted to see or put you in such a situation as that ever again.

Your look broke his heart ten times over. It is not like he wanted to leave you in Rivendell with the elves. He would do anything to take you, but it was just far too dangerous. The encounter with the Nazgul did it in enough for him to hold firm on the decision, “I’m not a lady Aragorn, and you know it! But I understand.” You countered but admitted your faults. You were nothing but a lowly peasant from a tiny village near Eriador. You didn’t mean much to middle earth, a place holder for whatever Valar had planned.

He twisted his head to the side giving you a once over and a sly smile, “Not yet anyway.” He walked towards you, stopping right in front of you. Wanting to say the next word so all the elves and Hobbits behind him couldn’t hear. Having to turn your head up to make eye contact he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I have every intention of making you one, my lady.”

Your eyes growing wide and the rosiness that formed on your neck and cheeks made the elves behind him laugh in unison amongst themselves. You noticed the confusion lining the Hobbits faces, no doubt wonder what he had said to you to illicit such a reaction.

You looked back to him with the hint of smile dancing on your lips, “They can hear you Strider.”

He brushed the pads of his fingers along your jawline, “Let them.” He had yet to be so forthcoming with his feelings so far. Sure, you had only known him a little over a week but you had not left his side since you met him. It had already felt so long ago. And when the heart knew it knew. It knew it had feelings for the handsome man with the most beautiful blue eyes that looked at you so kindly standing before you.

“Please be safe.” Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you accepted his command. You could not go along with them. You’d be nothing but the burden you so desperately wanted to avoid. But you also did not want to stay in Rivendell. The elves seemed welcoming enough but who knew how long he would have to be gone. You would surely overstay your welcome.

A curt nod came from the man you’d grown to love in such a short amount of time, “As you wish.” He moved his fingers to your eyes brushing away the tears that had managed to spill over, “Do not cry. I will be back as soon as I can.” The moment felt far too intimate to have the whole company trying not to watching but paying close attention anyway, they were not being sly about like they thought they were. They had all grown to adore you in some capacity, more some than others. Pippen was especially sad your journey had ended there. He had quite enjoyed getting to know you along the short trek from The Shire to Rivendell. You were unlike any other mortal he had met.

“I know. But you will find me in Bree.” You answered him letting the tears fall even as you tried your best to stop them.

He shook his head quickly, “No, you will stay here. In Rivendell. You will be protected here. Lord Elrond has assured me of that.” That sounded more like Aragorn than the Strider you knew. It hit you that the rightful King of Gondor was standing right in front of you. No wonder he had seemed so effortless in leading the group to Rivendell. It was in his blood.

“I do not belong here Aragorn.” You spoke in a plea muttering his actual name for just the second time. It still felt foreign, but you welcomed it on your tongue. Aragon, King of Gondor.

His eyes piqued up in utter curiosity at the sudden name change. You had seemed so adamant on continuing to call him by his Ranger name despite finding his true identity through Gandalf, “You can find an identity here my lady. Lord Elrond will not let that falter. Do you not believe me?” He frowned not enjoying seeing you in such a distressed state. He too had grown to have deep feelings for you. You were kind and compassionate. Smarter than you knew. Made him smile more than he ever had in his life in the short time he had known you. You kept him on his toes, and he adored that about you. He grew to like maybe even love you in mere days.

“I am a burden here. Useless. They will get sick of me.” You were pleading to him now. If you knew better you would not be pushing somebody of such high stature.

He gulped not knowing what to say. He could pick up on your stress through your expression and the way you picked at your fingernails. A habit he’d seen both at the Inn and when the group was attacked by the Nazgul. Just as he was about to open his mouth he heard Elrond from behind him. And bless him he thought for he had no idea how to calm your racing mind.

“Have you not enjoyed your stay here at Rivendell? Do you not wish to stay?” Lord Elrond spoke up after hearing the concerns you had spoken in private to Aragorn. He knew he likely should have just stayed quiet and let Aragorn handle the situation. But his overly sensitive ears could pick up the frantic panic in your voice towards the man.

You shook your head quickly, “No my lord. I wish to not be a burden to your home. You see I… I do not have much to offer your city.” You hung your head in shame hoping you did not fully insult Elrond. He had already been so kind to you.

“A burden?” He shook his head walking over to the two of you. All eyes still watching the interaction with the utmost curiosity, “You would hardly be a burden. I will be honest with you. With many of the elves planning to take to the sea I will need some help preparing. You will have a place here. Rest assured.”

A small sigh let out from your chest. Aragorn watched you intently with a bright smile on his face seeing the Elf relax your mind in mere moments. Leave it to Elrond to calm you down so easily. He needed to take a page or two from his book.

“Are you sure Lord Elrond?” You asked timidly to the much, much taller elf. Why’d they have to be so beautiful and intimidating at the same time?

He gave you a quick nod before turning, “I have already made up my mind child. Now let us go. The Fellowship has much planning to do before they are off in a few days.” He motioned for you to follow him.

You turned back to Aragorn before you left, “I wish you luck. I will see you soon. Be safe.” Taking a risk, you grabbed for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Anything for you my lady.” You caught the brief wink he had given you before bowing his head.

You walked over to the rest of the group, “I wish you all nothing but the best. Please take care of each other. I want to see you all when this is over. Yea?” Your voice broke at the end.

The Hobbits crowded around you giving you one last hug, “We will take your word to heart Lady Y/N.” Pippen smiled as he hugged your side.

“I am no lady.” You laughed once more. Where had they all gotten this ridiculous notion from?

“That’s not what Legolas told us.” Frodo smirked while looking over at Aragorn was deep in conversation with Boromir not paying a lick of attention to the goodbyes you were giving. It hurt him just as much as it was hurting you so he distracted himself with the other man in the Fellowship.

Your eyes found the blonde elf who attempted to feign innocence for the second time that afternoon, “You are a rightful menace Legolas.” You muttered to him almost finding enjoyment out of his butting in.

He shrugged innocently, “I am not sure what you are talking about Lady Y/N.”

You smiled shaking your head while giving each Hobbit a quick squeeze, “Good luck Legolas. Please watch out for him?” Your request may have been too much for the elf and you knew it. A big ask that you would have never of done had you not fallen for him so quickly.

But he agreed, “You have my word, my lady.” He smirked sensing your aversion to the formality you so desperately tried to avoid.

A quick shake of the head and you went off to follow Elrond you was waiting for you patiently in the distance, “I will see you all soon.” You waved, not waiting for their response as it felt to be too much in the moment. It amazed you

“Thank you for your hospitality Lord Elrond.” You said quickly once you caught up to the dark-haired elf.

He gave you what you was sure was a genuine smile, “It brings me a great pleasure to host you Lady Y/N.”

Your mouth gaped, “Is he forcing you to say that?” Surely you were going to have to get used to the title if Elrond had agreed to it. It would be shameful to try and correct the ruler of the land. Even you had some semblance of sanity and preservation.

Elrond shook his head quickly. He gave you a serious expression, one that you were not used to seeing from elf, “Aragorn is the rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor. We recognize the title here in Rivendell. I respect what he wishes. If he has given you that title you should wear that as a badge of honor.”

“You think so?” You thought you might have been pressing your luck with the lord. But he had the patience of somebody you had never met before. He was like no human you knew even if he was half of it.

If he was offended at your questioning he hid it well. A small smile adorned his features as he led you down the path to an empty room in the castle he had placed you in earlier, “I know so. When you have been around as long as I. You tend to notice these small things.”

He stopped in front of a door you had not been privy too in your prior explorations, “Your quarters for the time being. I had Nimloth move your belongings from your previous room to here. I suspect you will find it adequate.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when he opened the massive wood doors. The most intricate carvings of wood was placated on every surface of the room. The detail and craftsmanship was beyond anything you had seen in your tiny little village. You ran your fingers along the different sets of furniture admiring the fine detail that was crafted into every surface, “More than adequate Lord Elrond. Thank Nimloth for me?” You asked after finding all your belongings neatly put away.

He bowed to you. An elf bowed to you! What had this life become? Once so lost now you were somebody a lord found pleasure in conversing with.

“I will see to it. She will fetch you for dinner as well. Welcome to Rivendell.” Without waiting for a response, he shut the doors behind him letting you be with your thoughts. And oh, were they racing beyond your wildest measure.

It had been 414 days since Aragorn and the Fellowship had set out to destroy the ring. You refused to give up any sort of hope as you heard bits and pieces of information from Lord Elrond. You had grown close to elf in your stay at Rivendell. He had given you sage life advice time and time again. You were there for him when Arwen and his sons went off to sea not to be seen again until he were to take his trip. You knew he was utterly lonely and wanting nothing more than to go be with his wife and children. But he had a duty to middle earth that he would see too. He would see that the age of man had a true leader in Aragorn to guide peace and prosperity forward. He knew the age of elf was done and good. Frodo just had to finish it by destroying the ring.

You were sitting in the study reading a text in Sindarin, Lord Elrond had taught you enough of the language to get by, when you heard the doors to the study open with a loud thud. You set the text down on the desk as you peaked your head towards the door.

“Lady Y/N?” Lord Elrond’s voice called out.

You stood from your chair, “Yes my lord?” You caught him smiling ear to ear at the front of the study. A giddy feeling of shock shot throughout your body in anticipation for what might come next.

“They are back.”

You felt like your heart might have actually stopped beating there for a second, “Aragorn?” You asked breathlessly.

“Alive and well. Come.” He motioned you to follow him just like he had all those days ago when you first got to Rivendell.

When you spotted him out in the courtyard you did not give a second thought about being a lady anymore. You all out sprinted to the man who had consumed you whole in his time away. He wrapped you in his arms once you ran right into his chest. Letting out a small grunt from the impact he started laughing. A full-on belly laugh rang out from the man as he held you in his arms once more.

“You came back.” You felt the tears forming in your eyes as you buried yourself in his chest.

He held you in his arms as tightly as he could relishing in the moment of just being there with you, “I gave you my word, my lady. Did I not?” He pulled you back so he could look at you. Ethereal. Rivendell had been nothing but good to you he concluded. He would have to thank Lord Elrond for being so hospitable towards the one he had loved.

“You did. Thank you.” You grasped him a little tighter as he clinged onto you just the same.

You gasped opening the letter from the Shire, “Sam and Rose!” You ran over to Aragorn with a gleeful smile on your face, “Look, they are to be wed in six months! Long after you are crowned King. I would like to go.”

“Ahh, finally.” Aragorn grabbed the letter from your hand with a smile on his face. You admired him as he read the joyous news of the union. He was so handsome. And he was soon to be crowned King of Gondor, Gandalf had shared with the group the night they came back. He was due to be crowned in two months’ time in Minas Tirith. It gave time for all parties to travel to the desired destination to see the rightful heir be crowned king.

“I was worried he would never go for it. We shall go if you will have me?” Aragorn noted as he smoothed out the robes for tomorrow’s crowning. He had felt more nervous of the thought of proposing to you than he was about being crowned King. Valar calm his nerves.

“Aye. I would love to go with you Aragorn. But is that so? Had he been shy about her?” You asked your love that you were almost afraid to admit to.

He nodded recalling all the time Samwise made comments about the Hobbit he had loved from afar, “He was never the most risk adverse. I think the journey changed him.”

“Yea.” You nodded, “It was good for him.”

He nodded his head. His soft expression hardening just a tinge as he took you in, “You are so beautiful. When I did not think that I was going to make it… the thought of you kept me going. I am so honored to have you by my side.”

You leaned your head back into his chest letting the sun beat down on the two of you as he had helped you prepare for the journey to his rightful home. He had been to Minas Tirith many times before, but never as the King. He was overjoyed at the thought of bringing you to his home. He was not lying before when he promise to make you his lady. He was planning to wed to you not too long after he was crowned King.

“It is my honor Aragorn.” You felt him squeeze his hand along your waist.

He had taken you to his new home by horse. Just the two of you heading to his Kingdom. He wanted to spend the time with you and get to know you. And he was more than glad he did. He did not think it to be possible, but he had fallen more deeply in love with you on the month-long trek to Gondor. It had solidified what he had planned to do, propose to you as soon as he was crowned King. He had gotten Lord Elrond in on the plan as well. Surely, you would be more than irritated at the public display, but he knew you would soon get over it.

Your eyes lit up in amazement at the city that had spring up before you once you had finally made it after a little over a month on the road. It was more massive than even Rivendell had been. You had no idea such structures existed within the human world and was slightly ashamed you knew so little about your very own brethren.

“Welcome to Minas Tirith my lady.” A breathy whisper in your ear he watched below as you took in the city.

“This is… incredible Aragon.” Your eyes traveled everywhere in awe as he rode up the main street on his horse. You were pleasantly surprised at all the greetings even you were getting from all the citizens that resided within the city.

He led you straight to the castle at the center of the city knowing you were probably more than overwhelmed. Sure, he had warned you but actually seeing it and doing it was entirely different thing. He bowed to his guards as he made his way to his, and soon to be your, chambers.

“You will sleep here tonight.” He said matter of factly as you explored his chambers.

You shook your head, “I cannot. This is your room. You need to rest before tomorrow! You are being crowned King. That does not happen every day Aragorn.” You protested but he simply shook his head.

“It is all right.” He led you to his bed, “I insist my lady. I have made up my mind and you will not be able to change it.” He grinned beautifully as you sat down on the bed, accepting defeat so easily.

“So stubborn you are.”  You mused at him with a delighted look on your face. It felt like a step was being taken as he insisted you stay in his quarters. Protected by the best of the best. He saw you as nothing but precious to him.

He chucked softly, “I must leave you to it. Feel free to explore. One of the guards can show you around if you would like. I must see to a few things before tomorrow. I will see you after the ceremony?” He asked watching you carefully. He wanted you to be comfortable before he left you. He knew it would be tough to go a night without each other after spending so much alone for the better part of a month.

“All right.” You nodded quickly, “I will see you tomorrow, my King.” You grinned right back at him knowing you would never tire of calling him that. It was a far cry from the Strider you had met so long ago now.

He brushed his hand along your jaw. Giving you a brief bow, he spoke once more, “My lady.” Before walking out his chambers and leaving you too it. A wave of exhaustion coupled by the softness of the mattress below you sent you into a slumber much sooner than you were expecting. Maybe you would get the grand tour another time. For now, sleep overtook you..

You watched in awe as Gandalf crowned Aragorn with amazement in his own eyes. You had truly never seen anything so grandeur in your life. All this for your Aragorn. Yet, you felt he had deserved this and so much more.

“Now come the days of the King.” Gandalf’s voice boomed throughout Minas Tirith as thousands stood to watch Aragorn be crowned. You felt your eyes well up with proud tears as the crown laid atop his head. He was so striking. So Kingly. Your breath was taken away as he turned to the crowd. He was your King.

“This day does not belong to one man… but to all.” His voice now boomed filling your chest with the utmost pride for the man you loved, “Let us together rebuild this world… that we may share in the days of peace.” He smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers for their newly crowned King. You joined in happily clapping and cheering along with the city folk.

He sang as the flower petals began to fall. You watched as his company and all those around him bowed to him as he walked amongst the crowd. Your heart sped up rapidly as he was moving along closer, and closer to you.

Elrond pulled you back behind a shield at your protest as Legolas stepped forward. Being none the wiser you shot your elder a precarious look as he told you to be quiet and wait a second and you would see what was going on. He did not lie to you. Lord Elrond never did.

The elf beside you pulled the shield away leaving you staring right into the icy blue eyes of the man you had loved so dearly. You gulped but stepped towards him. He looked just as entranced as you felt.

Feeling overwhelmed at the entirely of the situation you bowed your head to your King once you were mere inches in front of him. Never before had so many eyes been on you. Yet he had made it feel like it really was just the two of you at that moment.

He would have none of that though. He took his hand under your chin and pulled it up, so you were looking at him. He too forgot that thousands of people were watching. It felt like it was just you and him. You had that effect on him. Your doe eyes staring up at him so desperately is what did him in. He could simply wait no longer to have what he wanted… you.

When you smiled at him he did not care any longer. He went straight in for the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he spun you around, happier than ever before. He had let his intentions be known. You were his for forever, his forever.

You would be embarrassed later but now it was just you and him. A giggle erupted from you as you hugged him once more. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along as he went to search for the Hobbits.

You took a knee after Aragorn spoke, “My friends… you bow to no one.” A smile erupted on your face as you watched the kingdom take a knee for them. Frodo’s face told the story. Aragorn gently wiped off the tears that were streaming down your face.

“I love you, my Queen.” He whispered in your ear.

“Your Queen?” You gasped looking up to him. Surely you did not think you would take

“Are we to be wed no?” He asked curiously.

“Aye.” You nodded, “I just did not believe to have such a title.” You looked away from him as he directed everyone to stand once more.

“I am King. You are to be my Queen.” He said so matter of factly you could not believe you were questioning yourself.

“As you wish.” You smiled so gleefully not truly believing this was actually your life now.

He leaned in for one more gentle kiss to please the crowd, “My Queen.” He whispered letting you know he had every good intention in the world with you. For the first time in his already long life, he could not wait to get his life started with you.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐭!

Summary ➳ When you and the rest decide to sneak up on an Orc camp, you receive an injury. You believe you can handle it yourself but Legolas thinks otherwise.

(A/n) ➳ I AM SO SORRY! Tumblr ended up deleting the request but I remember it but not all of it so forgive me if this isn’t what you wanted. If it isn’t then don’t hesitate to shoot a message or request again!! I also learned that apparently the Fellowship traveled at night and slept during the day. I seriously did not know that until today.

Word Count ➳ 1.5k

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, description of violence, blood, death, stitching, blood loss, angst-to-fluff…

“There must be some other way.” Legolas uttered to Boromir. “You cannot believe that sending (Y/n) out to assassinate the Orcs is the best solution.”

“She won’t be alone, Aragorn will be there with them.” Boromir replied. “The two of them will attack from above while we attack from below.” He drew his sword, walking closer to the Orc that was alone. He was swift with it, moving behind the Orc and slitting its throat. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

You took a deep breath as you aimed your bow, you kept your focus on the leader. You could see from the corner of your eye Aragon sneaking up on the other two. You knew he was waiting on your signal and he would wait however long, but you were all on a strict time.

Another deep breath and- “Hey!” You shouted out of instinct, Legolas’s arrow went through the Orc’s head, killing him but you brought attention to yourself.

You jumped down from the tree and quickly nocked, drew, aimed, and released at one Orc that was reaching for its weapon. You swerved past another arrow, more flying past your head until you took cover over a giant rock.

Before you could nock another arrow, an Orc came from behind, grabbing your arms to throw you against the ground. You rolled when he attempted to stab you, dodging more swings until you managed to kick his sword away.

He charged at you, taking your knife that was strapped to your leg, and used it against you. You used your bow to block a couple of slashes until he fell to the ground. Instead of standing, he got onto his knees and managed to stab you in your thigh.

You let out a scream but in return, you shot an arrow through his head. Your breathing staggered as your hand wrapped around the knife and slowly pulled it out and then covered it with terrible bandaging.

“(Y/n)!” Legolas popped up a few seconds later. “I heard you scream.”

“I believed I twisted my ankle.” You covered your wound with your as best as you could, smiling through the pain.

“Let me help you.” Legolas took your hand, helping you walk to the rest of the group. Luckily, your cloak covered your bleeding wound and your dark pants were enough to hide the blood seeping out. “We just have a couple more hours before daylight.”

Like Legolas said, Aragorn finally decided that it was time to rest. “We will set out when it becomes dark.” He told you all before he started to set up his makeshift bed.

Legolas looked over your ankle, looking closely and pressing against it, looking back at you for a reaction. “It doesn’t seem to be twisted, but it may be strained. You have been jumping a lot, and might have happened when your footing was incorrect.”

You could practically feel the sweat running down your forehead. “Does it seem bad?”

Legolas smiled, his usual smile that was beaming with kindness. “No, the pain should fade later. Are you in pain or hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no, thank you.” After Legolas joined Aragorn, chatting. It wasn’t long before it was just murmurs among the Fellowship. Sam and Frodo were cooking together, Gimli was most likely perched up against a tree sleeping, but you didn’t know about the rest.

You were farther into the forest, a needle and thread in your hand. You placed a thick piece of fabric in between your teeth and bit down, you used your other hand to keep the gash close together so you could stitch it.

You let out a strained cry as you attempted to stitch your wound yourself but it was difficult due to your vision blurring. You didn’t know how long you were out here, so focused on closing your wound that you didn’t hear branches breaking or leaves crunching.

“You’re hurt.” Legolas’s voice broke you out of your concentration. You could see the panic in his eyes, he kneeled by your side, taking the needle from you and moving your hand from your thigh. “And you’re doing it incorrectly. You’re hurting yourself more.”

He used his other hand to pull a container of water, and flushed out your wound. “How did you get this? And when?”

“Just a couple hours ago.”

“And you’ve been bleeding this entire time?” Legolas’s voice was filled to the brim with regret, like he was ashamed of himself. He carefully threaded the thread into your skin, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose.

You took out the cloth from your mouth. “Look Legolas, I’m still alive and well.” You tried to ease him. “I’ll be alright, I’m okay.”

“I should’ve known, you have been moving slower, as well as your reaction time.” He acknowledged. Once he finished stitching your wound, he poured water again to wash out the rest of the dried blood.

He helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. He moved at a slow pace back to camp, everyone was now asleep, save it for Aragorn who just watched you both silently.

He helped you lay down. “I’ll be fine.” You repeated yourself, it felt like the hundredth time.

Legolas shook his head. “Please, do not hide anything. You shouldn’t be silent about these kinds of things.”

As if waking up very early in the morning couldn’t be any better, Orcs have seemed to find you all. You had a feeling that they were stalking you all, waiting for the moment to attack. You used your bow instead of your sword, making sure none of the Orcs came close to the Hobbits.

An Orc charged at you. You dodged the first couple of swings but not the kick to the leg, making you kneel and it felt like the stitches broke.

You screamed as you used your arrow to stab it into the Orc’s shoulder. Legolas’s arrow came from behind and slew the bastard and Merry came to your side to help you stand.

“Run into the forest!” Boromir shouted, blocking the sword coming down at him. “Go! Quickly!”

Merry helped you speed through the forest. You suddenly felt sick, like you wanted to pass out. But it wasn’t long before the Orcs gave up the chase and Merry sat you against a tree.

“They’re bleeding!” Merry alerted the rest of the Fellowship.

Legolas dropped in front of you, pushing your hands away from the wound. “I need a needle and thread.” He said, more like demanded. “Or a cloth to stop the bleeding.”

Aragorn ripped a piece of his shirt and handed it to Legolas, he snatched it and was quick to tie it around your wound. “I’ll need some herbs, in case the wound becomes infected.” Sam shuffled through his bag. “Luckily you should be able to walk but not run.”

You swore under your breath. “It seems the Orcs are watching us at all times.” You looked up at Aragorn. “What do we do?” You asked him.

“There may be another camp nearby.” Aragorn replied. “Boromir, Legolas, we need to search.”

“Someone should stay and protect the Hobbits.”

“Gimli is here and (Y/n) still has the strength to use their bow.”

“But what if they need to retreat? What will happen then?” Legolas still pressed, wanting to remain by your side. “We cannot put the Hobbits at risk, especially the ringbearer.”

“Gimli will be here, just go with them.” You told him.

“I will not.”

Aragorn was too annoyed to even put up an argument anymore. “Let us go then.”

When they were out of sight, you pushed his shoulder slightly. “What was that?” You asked him, confused out of your mind.

“Someone must be here to protect the Hobbits-”

“I know that, it would’ve been fine. They are taking care of the camp, the Orcs won’t be nearby to bother us.” You once again tried to explain to him. “What is going on with you? Are you still feeling guilty?”

“No-”

“Doesn’t seem like that.” Your breathing hitched as you attempted to stand.

Legolas grabbed your warm to stop you. “You cannot be moving at the moment. Give yourself time to relax.”

“It’s just a small cut!”

“A cut that could’ve killed you.”

You huffed. “What is going on with you Legolas?”

“Becoming reckless is one thing but hiding a serious injury that could have killed you is another. It makes me worry, it makes me question if you have more injuries you’ve hidden.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the wound. I didn’t think that it would mean so much for you.” You admitted.

“I worry, I worry every single day, every fight, during the night and during the daybreak. Will the morrow be the day where someone or something takes you from me?” His hand grazed over your wound. “I just want to know I’ve done everything and anything.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again.

“Just promise me, I do not care how small it is or how big, please do not hesitate to ask for help.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[coalmonger]

LOTR/The Silmarillion time travel fic ideas and prompts

Not all of these are very serious but I would read a 200 thousand+ word story about them in a heartbeat. Who doesn't love crazy concepts?

Maybe I'll try my hand at making one of these but still, if you use any, tag me!

1 Boromir's no good very bad quest

'Boromir dies as he lived, honorably. Despite what he had fallen too. No man expects to come back from it, not truly. '

Boromir wakes up a week away from Rivendell, a week away from the council meeting. This time, he won't let himself fall, no matter what. Even if he has to sacrifice himself to do it.

2 At least we have each other?

'Merry and Pippin go to sleep a year after the war, Boromir dies a year before then. They all wake far, far in the past.. at least Boromir is here'

Just an older brother trying to keep the kids safe, with vague memories of history classes and a will to survive! The Fëanorians aren't ready for rowdy Hobbits and a rather secretive man. At least the man speaks Sindarin.

3 Birds of a feather

(Can you tell I love this one?)

'Elrond wakes up as a bird, in a place very unlike Imladris. Surprisingly this isn't the worst thing to happen that day.'

Elrond wakes up as a strong winged bird on the shores of Losgar. His situation is confusing and not a little disorienting but he understands quickly when he sees a blaze in the near distance. His instincts let him fly in the air, it's his mind that flies towards the flames rather than away.

The ships are ablaze and a memory strikes him... Amrod is saved that day by a rather mystical bird. The Fëanorians think he's one of Manwë's.

He's going to have a rather interesting time. He'll find a way to unbird himself eventually.

You could add more excitement into the mix if Elrond's kids also got birdtified, the flock will find each other again somehow!

4 Memories of affection

'Maglor doesn't notice when it happens, lost in his own mind once again.

His family does though'

Maglor has spent an eternity alone, he can't hide that even when it's made clear when and where he is. All that pain and suffering can't disappear with a flick of the wrist. Especially when the searing burn on his palm still blazes.

Fëanor fears deeply for his son, it seems almost as if he's falling to the same thing his own mother had. He doesn't know what or who caused this but he WILL find out and WILL help his son.

5 Eternally stuck with you, my friend

'How about side by side with a friend?

Always.'

Classic time loop with Legolas and Gimli. Starting off just before the council meeting. If any member of the fellowship dies they start over, yes including Boromir. Aragorn gets told about the loop in a LOT of rounds, even if he's not told, he almost always notices something is off with Legolas.

Legolas and Gimli could have a bromance or a romance, both would be beautiful!

[gloomwitchwrites]

An Unexpected Catch: A Boromir x Female Reader Romance

While investigating an attack on a Gondorian settlement, Boromir finds himself run through with a sword and tossed into a nearby river. When death seems dangerously near, Boromir’s body washes up to shore, tangled in a fishing net. A young woman living alone finds Boromir, and brings him home to care for him. As Boromir physically heals, he finds that his heart is also missing something important.

Overall Warnings: hurt/comfort, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, fluff, pregnancy, brief sexual content

Chapters (complete): one // two // three // four **

** indicates a Community Label

ao3 // main masterlist

title and banner made with Canva

[howling-medic]

All Duty Requires Purpose

Summary: Boromir has far better places to be than a meeting hall and far better things to do than listen to inane debate

A/N: @rivendell-poet talked about Boromir cuddling the other day, and then I couldn't stop thinking about it. Now this exists.

Warnings: Nothing at all...for literally the second time ever I think

Word Count: 1.6K

Rating: Gen

Pairings: Boromir x Reader

All Duty Requires Purpose

Meetings drained soldiers more than any battle ever could. Trading words, remaining still, when there was work to be done chafed against their nature. Today’s meetings dragged on into the night. Boromir sent for food because quarterly reports necessitated resolutions before anyone exited the meeting hall. His ornate, and well cushioned, oak chair with its finely carved wings had never caused his back to ache this much before, but he also had never sat in it this long. His mind began to wander to his wingback couch in your quarters where you undoubtedly were sitting. Without fail he could count on finding you tucked into one corner with your feet tucked under you and a book in your hand. Perhaps by now it had fallen from your grasp, and your arms were pillowing your head. 

He cleared his throat and dragged his focus back to the meeting. “We simply cannot afford to purchase fifty more horses! Not war horses anyways, and there’s no war to justify such an expense even if we could afford it!” Boromir reached the end of his patience. The Minister of War and Minister of Finance stood no chance of coming to any agreement.

“Gentlemen!” The room fell silent. “I believe I may have a solution to settle this, so we can all go home. We have no urgent need for war ready horses, as has been noted several times; however, we have soldiers who need cavalry training.” Neither minister looked pleased at Boromir’s interruption, nor at the opening of Boromir’s proposal. It mattered little. As Steward, he passed the reports and proposals for Aragorn to finalize, not the ministers. “What if we train our new recruits on the horses we currently possess? Not each man needs his own mount in a time of peace. We can begin negotiations with Rohan to establish an agreement for the purchase of horses with each breeding season. We can slowly grow our string of war horses at a lower cost than purchasing fully trained horses while also strengthening our ties with Rohan.” He fixed the two squabbling ministers with an icy gaze. “Do any take issue with this proposal?”

The room fell silent. Tension rippled through the assembled councillors,each waiting to see if the others would challenge Boromir. When none did, whether because they had no objections or they refused to be the first to try, Boromir rose. “Excellent. On that note, let us each retire. A draft of the Quarterly Report will arrive by sundown tomorrow all else remaining equal. As per usual, should you take issue with the notes pertaining to your position, send word to me.” The scraping of chairs and hushed murmurs interrupted by the groans of men idle too long stretching aching joints filled the room. Boromir took a moment to collect his thoughts while he sorted through his notes and tucked them into his leather folio. His hand itched to pull out a fresh scrap of parchment out and scribble down a list of all he needed to do before he could finally truly retire for the night. The day’s scribe handed him the veritable stack of the meeting minutes. Despite inwardly groaning at all the information he needed to review, he thanked the man - Damril? He really ought to remember, but it ranked low in priority compared to all the information vying for his limited attention tonight.

At least two advisors called out to him, but Boromir pretended not to hear, opting to make a beeline to the Steward’s House. He truly intended to go directly to his study and begin assembling a complete set of notes on the day’s meeting, if not a rough draft of the Quarterly Report itself, for Aragorn. Truly, that was his intent. The sound of a crackling fire and soft snores coming from the parlor stopped him in his tracks. With a sigh, he set the folio full of notes on a side table in the hall, stepped out of his boots, and laid his cloak on top of the folio.

Even with his boots off, the sound of his footfalls roused you. Boromir had never mastered the art of moving silently like Faramir had. Even Aragorn, two inches taller, could move more quietly than he could. You lifted your head nearly imperceptiblty. He thought you called his name in a questioning greeting, but all that was even vaguely intelligible was “Mir?” and even that was muffled by the pillow. You were just where he expected to find you, however. Your face was pressed into a pillow, and you had managed to curl yourself into as tight a ball as possible pressed to the far end of the couch. Your book lay open on the floor. Apparently you had fallen asleep before you had the chance to properly set it aside. 

The folio drew his gaze one last time, but there was no folio to see. Just his cloak. Boromir sat beside you on the couch and draped one arm lazily over the backrest. “I’m home.” The words washed over you and brought as much warmth as the blanket he pulled up over your shoulders. “I apologize for working this late,” he began, but a shake of your head cuts him off.

“You are forgiven, my love.” The words are mumbled and just as muffled by the pillow as your greeting. You opened your eyes, and found Boromir smiling down at you. His arm no longer rested upon the back of the couch. It migrated down to wrap around your shoulders. You couldn’t pinpoint when he moved it, though. Possibly when he covered you with the blanket. “Aragorn came to collect the notes from you - said he would write up the draft himself. He was…displeased… you let the meeting drag on into the night. He threatened to go break up the meeting himself, but I told him you would die of apoplexy if you should fail to reach reach resolutions on every matter to be included in this quarter’s report. I think he left a note somewhere, but I cannot remember where. My book was good, and I was tired.” You gestured vaguely away from where you sat.  

Boromir laughed. A full and rich sound that drew you to him like a moth to a flame. You shifted to rest your head on his arm. “Of course he did.That is horribly like him, I’m afraid. His note, however, can wait until later. Right now, I am quite content to stay where I am at.”

“It is terribly like him, and it would have been right for him to do it - would you not have worried yourself sick about all that was left undone.” His arm wrapped further around you, drawing you further into his hold. 

“I may have welcomed the intervention this time. That infernal new Minister of War may well drive me out of my mind. Did you know he wants us to buy fifty, fifty, fully trained war horses? The Minister of Finance - you remember Celebdîr? - nearly lost his mind. Poor man; I truly would not have blamed him for throttling him. The two of them bickered for ages. I eventually had to cut them off. I think I have a solution that will leave them both acceptably mollified.” Boromir broke off midway through his building rant and let out a deep breath. “That’s more than enough work. It took all of the evening; I will not let it take any more of our time.” 

You let out a small hum of acknowledgement. “You know I will always listen to you talk about work, but I agree it has occupied more than enough of your day - and night.” Boromir watched as you stretched and rolled so you could face him in full, which left you pressed into his chest. His arms tightened around you; his face pressed into your neck.

“Truly more than enough. By the time I cut those two off, More of my mind was back here with you than in that room.” His breath ruffled your hair, which tickled his nose. Your scent enveloped him, and the last of the day’s stress gave way. He could feel more than hear your answering giggle. 

When you tucked yourself fully into his hold, your position became a mirror image of when he lay his cloak over his folio - but with all your weight against him. You let out a contented sigh, he chuckled and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, savoring the warmth of you against him. Boromir pulled you tighter against him and settled in to keep you right here in his arms for as long as you wanted to stay before the fire. 

Whenever anyone asked him about the long hours he keeps, the years he had given to this city and this realm, the blood, the sweat, the tears, he would answer it was his duty. It was undoubtedly that, but that was far from the full truth. Duty bound him to his service, yes, but this right here - holding you in his arms - gave that duty purpose. He savored every single second. It was only when he began to struggle to keep his eyes open, that he conceded defeat and carried you to bed.

The folio stayed beneath the cloak until the morning light broke through the bedroom window. Then he slipped out of bed, careful to not disturb you, and retrieved the packet of pages and his writing box. Just as he has done on many mornings, settles in with his work and pulls you back to his side to steal a few more minutes of peace before he has to surrender himself to the day ahead.

A/N: A writing box is basically a lap desk. I was obsessed with the mental image of Boromir working away while you were still snuggled into his side. A quick Google search said that apparently lap desks in various forms have existed since about the 1600s, so I decided that was close enough. Fun facts courtesy of Hannah.

[feanors-therapy-bill]

The Fountain

Written based on #15 from the prompt list posted here.

“Come on, the water’s fine!”

Pairing: Gen, Boromir and Faramir Rated: G Tags: Fluff, Little Boromir, Tiny Faramir, Brotherly Escapades, Summer Time

The day was far too hot for anyone with a shred of common sense to be running around in armor. Or boots. Or any amount of clothing heavier than a tunic. Boromir had never been particularly blessed with common sense, not when adventure was afoot and summer was singing in the stones of Minas Tirith, and even he knew it.

Faramir, trailing behind him like a very earnest duckling, was clutching a book that was definitely not his- an old text on Gondor’s early kings that he had... liberated... from their father’s study- and trying not to look too suspicious as they cut across the fifth circle courtyard.

“Are we going to the library now?” Faramir asked, ever hopeful.

Boromir didn’t answer. His eyes were on the fountain.

It was the one tucked near the barracks where the stone lions spat water into a round basin, half-shadowed by trees. No one was around. The guards were melting in the heat. Most of the city had retreated indoors. Which meant: prime opportunity for shenanigans.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to- ” Faramir started once he realized his brother's goal, clutching his book tighter.

Boromir spun on heel and put his hands on his little brother's shoulders. “Farry. Listen to me. Do you know what time it is?”

Faramir blinked. “Um… noon?”

“It’s time for valor.” Boromir grabbed the hem of his tunic and over his head it went, flung dramatically onto the grass with a flop. “Come on, the water’s fine!”

And before Faramir could protest further, Boromir launched himself into the fountain like a tiny cannonball.

SPLASH!

Faramir gasped, scandalized and fascinated in equal measure. “You’re going to get scolded!”

Boromir emerged, grinning like a madman, hair slicked back and soaking. “Only if you rat me out.”

“You’re very loud,” Faramir pointed out.

“You’re very boring,” Boromir retorted, and kicked water in his direction.

Faramir squeaked and leapt back, clutching the book like a lifeline. Then frowned. “You’re not supposed to go swimming in the fountain.”

“You’re not supposed to take books from father’s study either,” Boromir said, sing-song, and oh no, he knew. “So now we’re both criminals. Might as well have a good time while we’re wanted men.”

Faramir paused. Considered. Then, with the gravitas of a future captain of Gondor, he set the book down carefully on a nearby bench, stripped his shoes off, and marched over.

“I’m only going in up to my knees.”

“Sure you are,” Boromir said, before grabbing his little brother’s hand and hauling him in with a splash.

Faramir shrieked and then dissolved into laughter, the sound bright and unburdened.

They played in the water until the sun dipped lower and the bells rang out for afternoon councils. When Denethor found them- both soaked to the bone, Boromir covered in grass stains, Faramir proudly wearing a crown of wet leaves- he didn’t say a word. Just stared.

Then turned around and marched back inside muttering under his breath about unruly children and needing better guards.

Boromir, already planning their next grand escape, nudged his brother with a grin and whispered, “See? Worth it.”

And it was.

[mileycyprus-hill]

To Have and to Hold, Tenderly

Based off @gondorimagines post about Boromir cradling you in his arms after a bad day. I took a creative turn with it. This is also my first Boromir fic I've written, so I hope it's good. (Not gonna lie, it was a f***ing struggle to alter my writing style to mirror that of Tolkien when I've only ever written cowboy stuff. Did I need to? Prolly not. But I'm an idiot who does things the hard way.)

Summary: You're a Lady of Dol Amroth and have been married to Boromir for a few years. You're postpartum from a long and painful delivery of your firstborn child while Boromir was gone to protect the borders of Gondor. When he returns, he offers you consolation during your difficult time.

Tags/Warnings: postpartum depression, fluff.

It has been a week.

A week and the pain still lingers. It has spread through your body and evolved from its physical form to infect your mind. The pain of labor had left you frail and weary, your once vibrant spirit now subdued by the weight of motherhood's trials. As you lie in your bedchamber, weighed down underneath the furs and silk sheets, you hear the argument between guilt and apathy loud in your thoughts.

The guilt shouts at you, ordering you to get up. It tells you to be stronger than this; that a Lady of Dol Amroth and wife of a high-ranking captain does not laze about in her bed. She never accepts defeat, but stands up and soldiers on. For her child. For her people.

Apathy however, whispers that you have already failed and you'll never be strong enough for yourself, your child, or your captain again. Your body is ruined. Boromir may not ever return to Minas Tirith. How will you find the strength again?

The silence in the room feeds your inner thoughts. The grand walls and high ceiling loom over you, making it feel less of a comforting place of rest and more of an entrapping cave of white stone. The heavy, blue velvet curtains draping your tall, arched windows shut out the warm sunlight.

You wish to hold her, your newborn babe. That's all you can care for, to feel her warmth against you so you can feel something. Alas, she remains with your nursemaid in another room at the request of the midwife. To give you rest, she told. She witnessed your pain and anguish firsthand, as she stayed with you during those prolonged hours of pushing, screaming, crying, and praying for it all to end. You were near hysterics, anxious that your baby was trapped inside you. You feared as if you had to split yourself in half to get her out.

The midwife recognized your melancholy which lingered after your daughter's birth. She said to you this feeling will pass in time, or was it she hoped it would?

As you drift in and out of an emotional slumber, a gentle knock echoes through the wooden door, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the threshold. You open your eyes to see the familiar dark, yet golden hair of Boromir, your stalwart husband. He enters your shared bedchamber, his countenance etched with lines of concern and weariness from the battles fought at Gondor's borders.

"My dear (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled mind.

You can hardly contain the tears in your weary eyes at the sight of his towering figure. The sound of his voice sends a wave of relief. It washes over you, threatening to spill the emotions you've held so tightly in your heart.

"You've returned!" You sputter and look to him as he crosses the room with purpose, his arms outstretched to embrace you. With such tender care, he gathers you in his arms, his strong frame a shield against the woes outside your door.

"I have, as swiftly as my steed could carry me...I feared I had lost you," he murmurs, soft and low, pressing a kiss to your brow. "But here you are, safe as I hoped you both would be."

You nestled against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear. It's a comforting cadence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. The warmth of his cheek against your crown permeates your cold and weakened body and you breathe in his scent, detecting his musk that you've always found so alluring.

Lavender and cream from his shave, leather from his clothing, and the earth and air from his travels.

"How are you feeling?" He queries with a gentle hush, "I had heard it was...quite difficult."

Tears began flowing down your cheeks like a trickling stream after a spring rain. You mutter a sarcastic answer to mask the pain, albeit pathetically, "Difficult is how I would describe your temper. This was..." you pause to reconsider burdening him with your woes, "...something far beyond my imagination."

Boromir's warm hold around you tightens and he presses an apologetic kiss to your forehead. As the fire crackles softly in the hearth, he begins to weave a tale of excitement upon learning the news of your daughter's birth.

"When I received word that our child was a girl," he began, a fond smile gracing his lips, "my heart swelled with joy beyond measure. I thought, a blessing has been bestowed upon us by the Valar themselves, to cherish and protect for all the days of our lives."

Your heart sank.

"But what of your father? He did not appear pleased to discover her," You worry, remembering the controlling nature of the steward towards all things in his city. "Tradition demands a male heir."

Boromir replies, his expression turning solemn as he considers your question, "He may harbor...disappointment at first. He does cling to the ways of old, but he is a man of wisdom and honor." He pauses, a flicker of sadness crossing his features before resolve settled in his eyes. "I have faith that in time he will come to see the light and beauty that our daughter brings to our house, and he will welcome her into the fold with open arms, as a cherished member of our noble lineage."

He recounted how he had ridden with haste through the rolling hills of Gondor, his heart buoyed by the thought of returning to your side, to share in the wonder of new life.

"As I rode through the streets, I heard talk of you and our daughter." He smiles a breathless laugh at that final word, "They spoke with such gleeful joy, 'Finally, a girl is born in the Citadel!' It gave them hope, (Y/N). Countless people requested I send word of your good health to them. They love you, (Y/N). They are here for you just as I am. You are...you're their princess."

Suddenly, a drop of moisture splashes onto your hair. Bringing yourself up from beneath his chin, you look into his grey-blue eyes. They're brimming with tears and he makes no effort to slow his weeping, for he is so overjoyed he can no longer contain them.

"My journey was long and arduous," he continued, his voice a low rumble in the quiet chamber. "But fear not, my love, for I am here now. Together, we shall weather this storm."

And so, in the solace of each other's arms, you found a sanctuary from the trials of the world outside. For in the embrace of love, even the darkest night could be pierced by the light of hope, shining bright as the morning sun upon the walls of Gondor.

The soft creak of the doorknob echoes through the bedchamber, heralding the arrival of another into the sanctum of your solace. Both of your gazes, intertwined with longing and curiosity, turn to behold the newcomer being carried across the threshold.

"And now, here she is," says Boromir, his gaze softening as he looks upon the babe being welcomed into your arms. "When I look upon her, I see the promise of a future adorned with beauty and grace. A beacon of hope to light our path ahead."

As he spoke, you felt a warmth suffuse your weary frame, a renewed sense of purpose blooming within your heart. For in Boromir's words, you find strength to face the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that together, you would overcome every obstacle, guided by the light of love's enduring flame.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tales from Middle-Earth Preferences - How You Met

Chapter 1: How You Met

Characters In Order: Aragorn, Arwen, Boromir, Elrond, Eowyn, Eomer, Faramir, Frodo, Gimli, Haldir, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, and Sam

Warnings: Usual LOTR canon violence briefly mentioned, The Ring briefly mentioned, mentions of ale/drinking, very brief mentions of smoking (not by the Reader), (if I missed any, let me know)

~~~

Aragorn;

You met him long before the world called him King. To you, he was simply Strider. You were a barkeep in a small, quiet tavern. He never said much, just sat in the back with his hood up, pipe smoke curling around him. But he watched, and he listened. You noticed how he always left a generous tip, how he made sure you were safe when drunken men became rowdy. That quiet care was the first thing you ever noticed about him.

~~~

Arwen;

You first saw her in the gardens of Rivendell. You were a guest of Lord Elrond, visiting on matters of diplomacy. She moved like moonlight through the trees, and though you tried not to stare, she caught your gaze and smiled. After that, she sought you out again and again. No titles, no grandeur - just two souls finding peace in quiet conversation.

~~~

Boromir;

He came into your bakery in Gondor, asking for a cake. It was for his brother, he had said. You hadn't expected the Steward's son to show up himself. You thought, if anything, he'd said someone else, but he was kind and warm, thanking you by name when he left. From then on, he returned often. Sometimes for sweets, sometimes just for company.

~~~

Elrond;

Your first meeting with Elrond was one of purpose. You were summoned to Rivendell to offer counsel. Despite his reputation, he met you at the gates himself. He was calm, wise, but more than that, he was understanding. He asked after your journey and walked with you beneath the trees, making the grandeur of Rivendell feel almost like home and far less intimidating.

~~~

Éowyn;

You were just outside of Rohan, picking herbs in the tall grass, when a horse bolted past you. It looked wild, panicked. You calmed it with gentle hands. Moments later, she appeared, breathless and fierce. Her thanks was quick, but the way she looked at you lingered. It wasn’t the last time she found you in the fields.

~~~

Éomer;

You met him in Rohan, assigned as his aide during the final days of war. At first, he barely looked at you. But over time, through missed council meetings and early morning sword drills, you became a fixture in his life. You kept him grounded. He began to rely on you without saying much at all.

~~~

Faramir;

Boromir introduced you. You had been close friends with the elder son of Gondor, and it surprised you that you had never met his brother. But there he was, sitting alone in the library. Faramir greeted you with a soft voice and kind eyes. Boromir stood between you both, proud and hopeful that his two favorite people would get along with each other.

~~~

Frodo;

You saw him first in Rivendell, sitting small and quiet at the Council of Elrond. He looked overwhelmed, burdened. When you pledged your loyalty to the Fellowship, it was because of that look. You didn’t speak to him until a day later on the road, when you offered him the last bit of your rations.

~~~

Gimli;

He didn’t think much of you at first. But when you held your ground during your first real argument, refusing to back down or be intimidated, he gave you a nod. A rare, respectful nod. From that moment, he treated you differently - not as someone to prove wrong, but as someone worth listening to.

~~~

Haldir;

You crossed into Lothlórien alone, weary from travel. He was the first to stop you. Bow drawn, eyes wary. You told him your name and your purpose. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t turn you away. Instead, he walked with you until Galadriel herself appeared. It wasn't going to be the last time you saw him.

~~~

Legolas;

He found you in the training grounds in Rivendell, a day before the conversation about the One Ring. You had been practicing your archery skills, and he complimented you. You looked up, surprised, and found him watching you with curious eyes. It wasn’t long before you were walking the forest trails together, learning of each other’s worlds.

~~~

Merry;

At the Council in Rivendell, you weren’t given a seat, just a corner to watch from. Merry sat beside you, chatting quickly, asking questions, you answered the best you could, and he listened. Later, when the Fellowship formed, he looked relieved to see you joining too.

~~~

Pippin;

You met him after the war, when the world was quiet again. He came to your inn with his cousin, Merry, laughter already spilling from him. You were playing music near the fire, and he clapped along. Later, when you brought over a drink, he blushed and fumbled over his words.

~~~

Samwise;

You ran into him - literally - on his way home to the Shire. You were running too, though from what, he didn’t ask. He just made sure you were alright. You apologized, and he gave you a quiet smile, then stepped aside to let you pass. But you looked back. So did he. He hoped to see you again.

~~~

Taglist Is Open;

@verynormalsstuff

~~~

Tales From Middle-Earth Masterlist

Preference: What To Know Post

[numenoria]

Headcanon + Modern AU : Boromir serving as a member of the school staff. ⚔️

A cute headcanon that started with Boromir. I might extend it to the rest of the Tolkien characters. 🏵️ Warnings: None. Just pure Fluff/Cuteness. Word count: 231~

Classes They'd Teach: Gym/Pys Ed, with Pippin, and Merry as his assistant teachers. Boromir would be a great gym teacher. He's attentive, gregarious, energetic, and protective.

Boromir would encourage healthy competition between his students while teaching them to look after each other. If one of his students were insecure, Boromir would help them embrace their strengths.

Boromir, Merry, and Pippin would give the students free play time at the end of lessons. The Hobbits would bring snacks on Fridays, much to Boromir's dismay (handling a class of 15-30 hyper students and two Hobbits is wild work! 😂). Boromir would have a strict anti-bullying policy.

Age Group/Grade: Primary School (4-8 years old) and Upper Elementary (8-11). Coach Boromir would be insanely popular with the kids. Some would even see him as a fun-loving yet disciplined surrogate dad. He'd ruffle his student's hair out of habit. I imagine Boromir helping his students put their hair in ponytails/buns for gym class. He'd have cool nicknames for the kids. His former students remember him fondly. He finds it amusing that the younger kids think Pippin and Merry are his sons (he may have contributed to the rumor 😅).

Extracurricular Activities/Clubs: Fencing club with Eowyn as his co-coach. They'd have a friendly yet competitive dynamic (Lots of trash talking but they keep it cute for the kids). Football or wrestling coach, Admin of a peer support program, Jrotc (w/older kids).

Thanks as always for reading! 🩷

Check out my other works here ✎

-Davi ☽︎♡︎☾︎

Tagging: @emmaandorlando @iwanderbecauseimlost @onebillionblorbos @daughterofthesunlands

Pls lmk if you'd like to be a part of my taglist in the future💜