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thedwarrowscholar · 1 month ago

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Hi there! I am going to be playing an rpg soon using the One Ring system, and am planning to play a dwarf. I found your blog and it has been so helpful and interesting, thank you for all of your work!

I have a question about culture - I would like to play a healer/doctor-type character, I’m thinking along the lines of somebody who was a first port of call to treat mining injuries and the like. I’m wondering if you have any info about what kind of role doctors would play in dwarven society considering their immunity to illness, if this is referred to at all in Tolkien’s work, or anything similar?

Well met, and what a fine character concept!

Dwarves as doctors — it might sound contradictory at first, but let’s dig a little deeper (pun absolutely intended).

🪓 First, What Tolkien Tells Us

Dwarves, according to Tolkien, are:

Largely immune to disease — Human illnesses don’t afflict them.

Resistant to fire and corruption — Stronger even than Elves or Men.

Largely Unmoved by enchantment — Gimli famously resists Saruman’s voice when others are swayed.

Exceptionally hardy — They live long lives and are remarkably sturdy.

So no, they’re not seeing healers for the flu or a cough. However…

⛏️ Where Dwarves Do Need Healers

While illness is rare, injury is a daily reality. Consider the life of a Dwarf:

Mining accidents: cave-ins, broken limbs, burns, crushed digits

Forging mishaps: molten metal, sharp tools, inhaled fumes

Warfare: axe wounds, fractures, slashes, arrow injuries

Travels through wild lands: venom, broken bones, frostbite

A Dwarven "doctor" would thus be more like a wound-stitcher, bone-setter, or battlefield medic — part surgeon, part herbalist.

Imagine them with hardened fingers, singed eyebrows, a belt full of salves and clamps, shouting at young miners to "bite on the haft and hold still."

They'd also be skilled in:

Neutralising poison from spider bites, barbed arrows, or toxic fumes

Crafting protective salves for burns or frostbite

Using roots, mushrooms, and mosses gathered in the deep places of the world— the kind of ingredients other peoples have never heard of.

🧪 Healing in a Culture Without Disease

This unique Dwarven near-immunity actually shapes the healer's role differently than among other folk.

Think of it this way:

Dwarves don’t fight decay — they fight damage

A Dwarven healer is likely not your typical soft-voiced herbalist — that which they treat often needs to happen fast - hence they are practical and direct (and no doubt deeply respected).

In a Hall, they might be part of the mining guild, responsible for overseeing safe work and patching up the wounded.

👁 A Word on Dwarven Eyesight

It’s also worth noting that Dwarves are often described (or implied) to be nearsighted — their eyes well-suited to dark tunnels and close work, but less sharp at great distances. While not a "disability" per se, this trait likely influenced their perception-based injuries:

Falling rocks unseen till too late

Missed signs of a cave-in or fault line

Eye strain from fine rune-carving or gem work

Thus, Dwarven healers may also specialise in treating vision strain, developing magnifying lenses, or even crafting protective goggles for forge and mine alike. Though note, none of the Dwarves in the Company of Thorin wore any kind of goggles or lenses (though they were mentioned as being nearsighted) - so perhaps this was "not done" and a mark of some shame amongst them.

🧬 The Two Dwarven Illnesses

While Dwarves were famously resistant to disease — immune to human ailments and untouched by pestilence — two conditions were known to affect them:

Obesity (NKh: “fantagbâsh” - literally "broad fortune") Described by Tolkien that in times of plenty, many Dwarves would grow very fat, becoming physically inept and unable to do much besides eat. This wasn’t framed as a health issue, per se, but it had clear mobility consequences (later in life Bombur had to be carried around by six young dwarves). A good Dwarven healer might be called upon to craft walking aids, prescribe salves, or adjust armour to fit an increasingly portly Lord. Though keep in mind that these "broader" dwarves wouldn't be regarded as ill, but that those with the widest belts would in fact carry considerable status in the hall.

An Older Bombur, as seen in LotRO, next to his carrier-dwarves.

Dragon-sickness (NKh: "uslukh-satas") Not a literal ailment, but a mental affliction — a consuming lust for gold and treasure, often triggered by proximity to a great hoard that had been brooded on by a Dragon. Most famously seen in Thorin Oakenshield, it clouds judgement, isolates the sufferer, and can lead to destructive paranoia. A healer might not be able to cure this sickness, but a top healer might study calming herbs. To what extent that might help is another matter entirely. The Dragon-sickness affected some more than others, and its effects were especially powerful on those who were already greedy and selfish. The most extreme case of this was the Master of Lake-town, who was given a part of Smaug's hoard to help in the rebuilding of Lake-town. Instead the Master took the gold and fled into the Waste, eventually dying of starvation.

Thorin's Dragon-sickness as depicted in The Hobbit movies

🎭 And in Your RPG?

Your Dwarven doctor could easily be:

The old-hand healer at the mining front

A former soldier’s medic who now treats injuries in peace

A herbmaster of the Deep Halls — one of the few who knows where healing mushrooms grow in the Roots of the Mountain

Or even a poison expert, who’s saved more than one axe-brother from a snake’s bite

You won’t need to think about diseases much (with the exception of dragon-sickness and obesity), but you will be the person everyone looks to when the stone cracks or a foe bites.

🩺 Dwarvish Healing Lore —Some Key Terms

If you wish to give your healer character some linguistic depth, here are a few Neo-Khuzdul terms relevant to healing, herbs, and recovery:

Healers & Patients

absâtrathkh – healer (leech); often a traditional, hands-on mender.

basatâl – professional healer; the equivalent of “doctor.”

mamahlikûn – he who is (or has been) treated; a patient under care.

Healing Practices

anradraiblêl – the practice of healing lore, especially bone-setting and cut-binding.

absata'lâz – recovery, the improvement of health after injury or trauma.

Medicinal Plants

ibsêtmajd - Athelas, Kingsfoil

zarsûnakhsag – entscloak, found near the mouths of the Entwash, known to ease the pains of the elderly.

i'bêdkhalf – tunglewort, a healing weed found along the Anduin in Gondor.

itmêm-mujd – settlegang, a Gondorian herb used in wound care.

jalaimgêmshelak – cranesbill, used for treating sores.

kalmunaith – maiden’s helm, a flower with soothing properties, found in Lossarnach.

sedezyusth – plantain herb, a common and reliable weed used in poultices.

Gem-Based Healing & Divination

kâminumkab – earth-reader, a Dwarf who uses gemstones as a focus for prophecy, healing, or magic.

kaminimkêb – earth-reading, a divinatory or ritual technique involving stones and crystals.

Treatments

ibrêzneked – poultice, a heated herbal paste spread on cloth and applied to the skin to draw out pain or infection.

In short: 🛑 No flu, no plague. ✅ Plenty of wounds, burns, bites, and breaks.

And the Dwarves — ever respectful of skill and grit — would honour such a healer greatly.

May your tools be sharp, your salves strong, and your beard never get caught in a splint.

Ever at your service, The Dwarrow Scholar

#dwarves #neo-khuzdul #healing

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thelongestway · 5 months ago

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Gonna repost this because the original post I had this on turned reblogs off, and I'm thinking a lot about old sci-fi and fantasy and their impact on me today.

So. Most kids of my generation imprinted on Tolkien. I... Didn't, even though LOTR was probably the first fantasy book I made it through (and my favorite characters were Gandalf, and Gimli and Legolas' friendship (matched set, do not separate)).

But. Even though LOTR was my first big fantasy story, that wasn't what I imprinted on. It was the second book (or, well, book series) I remember reading all by myself. Roger Zelazny's Chronicles of Amber.

Reading the opening sequence for the first time remains burned into my mind, because that was when I went "Oh. This is me." about a book for the first time in my life. Here (spoilers, obviously, both in the quote and the summaries below):

"It was starting to end, after what seemed most of eternity to me.

I attempted to wriggle my toes, succeeded.

I was sprawled there in a hospital bed and my legs were done up in plaster casts, but they were still mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them, three times.

The room grew steady.

Where the hell was I?

Then the fogs were slowly broken, and some of that which is called memory returned to me.

I recalled nights and nurses and needles. Every time things would begin to clear a bit, someone would come in and jab me with something.

That’s how it had been.

Yes.

Now, though, I was feeling halfway decent.

They’d have to stop.

Wouldn’t they?

The thought came to assail me: Maybe not.

Some natural skepticism as to the purity of all human motives came and sat upon my chest. I'd been over narcotized, I suddenly knew. No real reason for it, from the way I felt, and no reason for them to stop now, if they'd been paid to keep it up. So play it cool and stay dopey, said a voice which was my worst, if wiser, self.

So I did."

Rest of the book here.

And then Corwin breaks out of a mental hospital without knowing anything about himself and, barely lucid, makes his way through a world he doesn't remember.

Yeah, on re-reading it as an adult, there's a lot of stupid mid-20th century shit, especially where gender is concerned. But the opening. Bullshitting your way through an insane world, buffered by the feeling that "yes, this is reality as you know it somewhere deep below the amnesia." The Pattern and Logrus. Fucking up your attempt to retake the throne so bad you fuck up the entire universe. Biding your time in prison, blind and patient. Riding with and against the chaos you caused. And "if nothing greater devours us" as an answer.

And then the Chronicles of Merlin, and the lonely magician trapped between worlds with his pet artifact snake and sentient computer called Ghost Wheel. And the descriptions of what it feels like to manipulate reality that resists and reality that is so tissue-thin that you can go through ten Shadows in a moment, of living in fractals and talking to sphinxes. That was me later, but I think that any time I describe standing against something bigger than myself, and being ready to burn a hole in that greater thing with your own blood, the Pattern and Logrus bleed through.

And this book is where my love of the first person comes from. Because the first book I ever well and truly loved as a story was a book where you sat across from a Prince of Amber, and he gave you the wildest tea imaginable.

#roger zelazny #chronicles of amber #hello and goodbye as always #the nameless fanfic: supplemental #writing #my writing

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freebee303 · 2 months ago

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(Masterlist • Part 1)

Loss Part 2

The Forgotten Sorrow

It was like waking from a nightmare.

Still feeling the wretched horror causing the chills up your spine and the tears streaking down your cheeks, and yet not being able to recall what exactly it was.

The nightmare in question was unfortunately not the only thing forgotten that day. Not the only thing lost.

No one had the heart to tell the boys that the cousin they were crying and hugging had no idea who they were.

The wound in his head made his survival a pure miracle, not a soul wanted to take that blessing away from the children that laughed and sobbed as he hesitantly place a hand on their backs.

Confusion wasn’t the only thing on his face, tears refused to waver ever since he awoke.

Bifur couldn’t remember his little cousins names, but he remembered the texture of their hair in the familiar braids. He remembered the little ones laughter, he remembered the pudgy hands that held his.

He couldn’t remember the medic who’d been there when he first awoke, the one who’d spoken to him in a broken voice, searching his eyes for some sort of recognition.

He couldn’t remember the name he was called until they told him it was his.

Even after recovering enough from his wounds to go home with his cousins, axe in his head and their hands in his.

He couldn’t remember their parents, his aunt and uncle. He couldn’t remember how they died or when. But the boys seemed happy to not talk about it and to only cry into his arms.

And yet, the worst of all was not remembering why he was always crying.

It was a phantom feeling, a pain that came through him at very specific times, he couldn’t remember why or how because it wasn’t from the orc axe.

It came when he slept in a bed that felt far too cold. It came when he’d braid the boys’ hair. It came when he heard a specific tune. It came when he smelled a certain pastry.

He cried whenever he would enter the room he’d given to his cousins, the one that they refused to occupy for weeks until they gave in, yet not changing a thing.

He cried when he’d take the boys out for the day, away from the painful apartment. He cried when he’d patch up a graze on Bombur’s knee. He cried when Bofur taught him a dance that apparently he taught him.

He cried whenever Bofur ended up in the infirmary after an incident in the mines, he cried over his boys broken hands. He cried when he officiated Bombur’s wedding, he cried at the reception when the boy thanked him.

He cried when his old friends tried to reconnect with him. He cried when he met Fili and Ori for the first time.

He cried when he and Balin sat with Dis, he cried as Balin held his hand as he explained his own experience.

The Sorrow was something he was never taught after his injury. Nobody had the heart to explain it as the reason for the never ending pain in his heart.

Sitting with Dis and Balin, one undergoing the life threatening experience and one having survived it, it all made sense.

That was why Balin’s hand on his felt so painfully familiar. That was why it hurt to sleep alone. That tune, the pastry smell.

It explained Bombur and Bofur’s sorrowful looks at him when he cried over one of those things. Why they grew quiet when they mentioned the name he didn’t remember.

It was why Bombur toasted to three people at his wedding.

Bifur survived The Sorrow after decades of pain. He survived and grew something more from the memories and people he lost.

He may not remember much from his life before. But he remembered enough in the smaller things.

He remembered his husbands soft hands when he held his old boar spear.

He remembered his laughter when he baked, he remembered the tune they sung when he carved, he remembered his warmth when he was tired, he remembered his lips when he looked up at the stars.

And when he would wipe dirt from Ori’s face, when he’d help Fili up on his pony, when Kili would light up at whatever new toy he was crafting, when Gimli would cling to his sleeve, when Bombur’s daughter would clamour on his shoulders.

In them, he remembered his son.

In that nightmare, he felt the grief. Deep in the night he was glad to not remember how his husband and son died trying to avenge him. Only to survive and not remember either.

But he was thankful to remember enough to miss them.

#bifur’s backstory #TWWC #the weight we carry #the hobbit headcanons #the sorrow #ones #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

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lesbiansforboromir · 2 years ago

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Just saw your posts abt the return to Moria songs - was about to ask if you'd got your hands on the game yet! After the trainwreck of the gollum game I'm rlly interested in your opinions/thoughts on return to Moria, lore wise and mechanically as a game, the trailers always looked great & development sounded like it was going well but since it came out I've mostly been seeing poor reviews. What's the lesbiansforboromir verdict so far?

RTM?? HAS?? POOR REVIEWS?? I'll- m. I suppose. People are entitled to be wrong. Anyway well I fucking love this game.

Honestly I dont want to talk about it as a game like the gameplay is fun, I like exploring and mining and making my little bases with all my friends okay, do you want to be a dwarf and do dwarf things in The Dwarf Place with 7 of your little dwarf friends?? Yes?? Good! The game is literally only 31£ which in comparison to most titles that come out these days is so emminently affordable I was honestly shocked I could get it.

I suppose to be clear I was a beta tester for this game like I've been rooting for it for ages so I guess I was primed to enjoy it but!! Like!! What I actually want to talk about is Return to Moria as a piece of art earnestly engaging in dwarven spirituality and narrative as something moving and poignant in and of itself. The mood and narrative of the game is built more on the experience of playing the game than any story or dialogue.

You have come from any corner of dwarvendom, at Gimli's calling, to reclaim Khazad-dum after Sauron's destruction. For some reason though, the doors both east and west are blocked, the pass code no longer works. In attempting to mine through there is an accident and you fall through the floor into Moria, alone.

Now, I would posit that there are two very different games within this game. On the one hand, you can play with friends. You fell through with a few other dwarves and after finding each other you begin to figure out what to do. You deligate tasks of resource collecting and exploration and base building, someone will cook breakfast for the group in the morning for you to all have together, when you mine together your voices join up into lovely shanty-like melodies and at the end of a hard day or some victory you have a mug of ale together and sing around a fire. If you fall, there is someone to pick you up and the burden of the shadow is born by all, it feels right. You can also distribute different 'masterworks' between all of you, so you are never in the dark, you can always mine swiftly through obstacles and someone can offer you a restorative if you need one. The feeling is so right, like this is simply how dwarves always should be, and as you more rapidly clear rubble and repair the world around you the sense of togetherness and reclaiming a home are very powerful. You still long for Durin's return, you sing his song together each time you mend his statues (all my group instinctively waited for everyone to be gathered before mending any of Durin's statues) but you also feel a part of the great dwarven whole and it makes the game a kind of hopeful determined experience. Like yes the damage of the past is great, and the future is uncertain, you have no guiding light. But you do, you have each other, the dwarves will endure and bring their own light to dark places once again. Together.

But if you are playing alone? It is an entirely different experience. And the singing is really the clearest expression of that difference. Whereas with friends your voice will be raised with your fellows and produce really pleasant melodies, alone there is only you. It seems obvious, but there is something about being on your own, mining an iron vein because you need weapons and armour to defend yourself against the orcs that you can see and hear watching you from the darkness, waiting to strike, and you begin to sing, just to yourself, in a voice that is often not particularly beautiful, but you have to do something just to make yourself feel less alone, to calm your own nerves when you feel like a wolf could silently creep up behind you and attack at any moment (a real threat that happens a great deal during solo-play). It is not joyful anymore, it is desperate, you always start off by humming as though you need to psych yourself up to actually raising your voice in the hollow halls. You are always running out of space in your inventory, one dwarf alone cannot carry everything needed to set up safe havens everywhere you want, and as for masterworks? You have to choose between easy light and a raft of other far more useful things like a cask of miruvor, an unbreakable shield, a pickaxe that cuts your mining time in half! You will still choose the light in the end. Where all the leftover dilapidated bases you find felt cosy with friends, now they feel empty, too much space for just one dwarf. You drink and dance alone now, at the end of a weary day, trying to buoy yourself into enduring another one tomorrow, there is no one to celebrate successes or commiserate failures with. And it FEELS wrong, a dwarf alone in here feels wrong, that community you want to turn too for guidance isn't there, and neither is Durin. The sensation that King Thorin Stonehelm III was right, that you should have waited for Durin's return before trying to restory Khazad-dum, is most powerful in soloplay.

The only time you feel that togetherness, that you dont feel alone, is when you mend one of Durin's statues. Whilst you start off singing the song of durin alone, as you continue other voices join you in an uplifting veneration that every dwarf knows. It's the only time in solo-play that you will hear more voices than just your own. It's like a way to connect to the great whole that is the dwarven people, that you are so cut off from right now but that is never wholly gone, as Durin is also never wholly gone. He is the conduit that connects every dwarf in the world and the longing for him is far more potent in playthroughs where he is the only dwarf you can turn too. Despair is a literal mechanic in the game that will slowly sap your life away if you spend too much time alone in the dark.

So a solo experience of the game more emphasises this fear of the future, fear of the unknown, of walking alone into a world that is dark and dangerous and full of pain and loss. You still have victories, but it is gruelling and each one feels more miraculous.

So that's my take, also obligatory mention of the coolest fucking multiplayer gaming moment of my life where me and three friends walked the pilgrim's road of Durin, found the source of the Kibil-nala where a great monument is built as shrine to Durin's passage, restored it and sang to it together (all of us deathly silent in voice chat just to listen) and the song ending just before we were attacked by a horde of orcs rushing into the chamber whereupon us FFFUCKING NERD ASS BITCHES turned around yelling (in our real human voices, not discussed beforehand) 'Baruk Khazad' and 'Khazad ai-menu' with our weapons raised and defeated the orcs at the threshold LIKE... Theoden screaming 'death' levels of adhrenaline and emotional investment I tell you.

Anyway I have to go now, LOTRO's Umbar update finally downloaded ciao

#chats #Anonymous #return to moria

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lotrmusical · 1 year ago

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here it is: the Big Wheel of Things People Love About Watermill Lord of the Rings!

spin here

optional: use what you get as a creative prompt for fanworks to celebrate the anniversary of the production! (full info here)

a couple stats from sorting the responses, just for fun:

louis/frodo is the most commonly mentioned, followed by nuwan/sam, aaron/aragorn and folarin/gimli.

a full 10% of responses mention the characters' physical affection: hugging, holding, reaching for each other, etc. this is truly the world's claspiest musical

louis and nuwan are tied for the most quoted line deliveries, followed by tom

everyone really loves the ent noises and falling leaves in the fangorn scene. (5 separate mentions)

full list of responses & credit below the cut 🍃

@cicelythereaper:

The Ents being represented by the sound of wood striking wood in the walls

The actor-musician setup - the way everyone is musical and telling a story!

Galadriel standing within her giant wreath - which turns into a sort of Ring of fire when she's considering going darkside

The choreography of Flight to the Ford

Frodo and Gollum's parallel body language

Folarin's performance in Moria

Saruman. Everything about Saruman

Aragorn's habit of clasping people's heads

@mischieffoal:

Matt Bugg's Gollum thirst traps

Lobelia

Evil flute magic

I want the ring/risk to be mine alone

Day May End

The breath like choreo at the first "lorien laure"

clutching our heads in his hands

Mrs. Bracegirdle

Samfrosie 5ever

GIRL PIPPIN

"our lives are woven together yours and mine"

aoife's voice

sioned's extremely eldritch elf queen

brown sam and black rosie!!!!!

yazdan's just really hot

extreme divorced energy saruman/gandalf

that bit in the council of elrond where Legolas speaks just as the turntable has put him directly facing the audience

Boromir's death and wake

Boromir's ghost/Faramir

Aragorn/Arwen, they do it SO WELL

@nowandforalways:

The new arrangement on specifically Frodo's verse of Now And For Always

"SAM LOVES ROSIE SAM LOVES ROSIE"

The way that PDukes says the words "a far, green country"

Frodo constantly slinging his arm around Sam's shoulders

Plum cake

Bilbo kissing Frodo's hands

Ensemble hobbits reaching their hands out to Frodo when Sam helps him up before Wonder

Hobbit hug after Gandalf falls in Moria

"Heyday" stupid-foot-tap-jump-thing

The change in Gollum's voice after Frodo calls him "Smeagol"

Sparkly elven cloaks

The way Arwen holds her arms

Stab Wound Continuity™️

Shelob puppet

PDukes standing behind Theodenothor looking so SAD

Arwen & Aragorn's matching arm movements during Lasto i lamath

The "beat drop" in Lothlorien (when they start singing in Quenya lol)

"Master Elrond, WHY there is a dwarf here I do NOT know"

The lighting during Song of Hope (reprise)

The Black Speech being projected on the back wall when Gandalf takes it out of the fire in Bag End

Frodo mostly hanging back at his own birthday party and then immediately getting SO INTO IT when the dancing starts

Frodo fully forgetting his pack at the start of The Road Goes On and Sam grabbing it for him

Louis' voice

Frodo directing the other hobbits and encouraging the Breelanders during The Cat And The Moon

The red waistcoat with Louis' dark hair and eyes

How physically affectionate Frodo is with the people he loves

TIRED AND COLD

Frodo grabbing Smeagol's arm to counter-balance as Smeagol falls into Mount Doom

Louis being the resident freak in all of the cast interviews

Frodo being on the lower harmony for the first time in the whole show when he joins Sam singing at the Gray Havens

@eelfleece:

BIG! SPIDER! PUPPET!

little small leaves floating down in the ent scene and the soft Boom Boom accompanying them

anonymous:

It drove my sibling's wife insane for several months. Sometimes the most important thing about a production is how much it means to people you care about.

the actor-musicianship

the intimacy of the theatre

the cast themselves

the strong south-asian inspiration in the music and choreo

It felt like such a genuine production. No big stage or huge light shows, just actors having fun and delivering one hell of a performance. The smaller venue helped with that a lot

The pre show where Bilbo walked among the crowd greeting people and chatting with them as if they too were hobbits.

I walked from Newbury station to the theatre so getting there and seeing that the outside of the theatre was decorated as well was such a good way to arrive there after an hour of walking

All of the actors being the ones who play pretty much all of the music as well made me have so much more respect for the amazing cast

The parts where actors played outside of the stage like gollum climbing the decor or Aragorn (I think) suddenly being on the balcony.

The leaves falling when the ents are in the scene made it so much more immersive

The costumes made for the production were amazing. Each one suited the character well

I saw the actress who played pippin smiling throughout the entire show. She was having genuine fun and that made it so much more authentic to me

I am Astonished that they managed to fit all the three books into one musical.

I just really hope this musical will someday return to the watermill theatre as it was the best performance I have ever seen. Nothing will top this

the way louis maskell says "mr gandalf - please" with a laugh in his voice as he kneels next to sam to "protect" him from being turned into anything unnatural

the final show where sam scurried behind frodo during "don't let him turn me into anything… UNNATURAL" so frodo just knelt with his hands out in front of him like "Mr Gandalf… please"

Legolas! and! Gimli! forehead! touch! and! head! clasp! during wonder after talking about seeing the caves and the forests together

Louis Maskell's wiggles

Yazdan's northern accent for Legolas

the Look TM and intonation on Frodo's "…goodbye, Sam" before they do the foot tapping as Sam heads off to the Ivy Bush with Rosie

looks like /you've/ got ALL the company you need

oh yes! lots of FRUIT around here

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli doing different rituals whilst kneeling over Boromir's body

Aarongorn's ritual gesture - hand to head, chest and lips

boromir: 'and defeated him!!' elrond: '…...yes. 🙄'

'don't adventures ever have an end?' bilbo's heartbreaking tone

circle of light holding gandalf captive in isengard

the pattern from the moria doors also used on gimli's costumes

NAZGUL PUPPETS. horse skull my beloved

the blue cloths rippling down from the ceiling for flight to the ford

amelia's high harmony in road goes on

council of elrond turntable and curved benches blocking that effortlessly puts everyone where they need to be to keep the scene moving, clear, dynamic

'go forth in hope that the small may succeed where the great could not' tom's tone and gentleness with frodo making me cry every time

STAR OF EARENDIL A CAPPELLA MOMENT. CHILLS FOREVER

all the times merry, pippin and sam support frodo and help him along, emotionally and physically

EVERYONE MIRRORING SAM AND REACHING OUT THEIR HANDS TO FRODO BEFORE WONDER

nuwan's beautiful floral guitar strap

sioned's galadriel becoming increasingly terrifying, her distant gaze and lilting intonation

matt bugg gollum upside down moments

the audience helping to rebuild the shire for the epilogue

the big white sail for frodo to exit behind one final time, and his last look back as he goes

all the people playing instruments but ESPECIALLY elliot getting so so energetic and hype during song of hope reprise

'w-w-what she means is… how about a song?' and the other hobbits immediately dying inside

FOLARIN'S LAMENT FOR MORIA and his bowing to the surroundings before he starts and the depth and reverence and awe he brings!!

CHARLOTTE GRAYSON ROSIE 'i've been expecting you since the spring!!' making me cry every time

aarongorn's gentleness and reluctance to come out, and the way he sits during the council trying to fade into the background while everyone's talking about the lost sword

bridget and reece's cartwheel/lift choreo in cat and the moon!

the lights in the big tree by the outside stage

'that's often how it is in a forest, pip' geraint's hilarious delivery, and him and amelia clearly having the MOST fun together

The ensemble acting as an extension of Sam! He represents the people ✊

The way Aragorn falls to his knees after Song of Hope (Duet)

The nazgul lighting

Incorporating the environmentalist message from the book with the wildflower packets, the orcs' industrial look, and the emphasis on rebuilding at the end

The ensemble narration :)

The sense of loss that clouds the production, as it tells of the end of an era and doesn't quite finish where it started (same place but so much is missing) (again with the rebuilding theme)

Rosie Cotton

Creative use of the physical space in the house!

The ents being represented by Noises

Being a major adaptation willing to mess around with gender! I hope this starts a trend of more genderfuckery in Tolkien adaptations

the detail of the set and costume design!! e.g the pattern on gimli's costume matching the moria floor pattern

Folarin's Lament for Moria - absolutely incredible voice, was swept away

The hobbits hurriedly putting their waistcoats on and rolling up their shirtsleeves as they transition from Mount Doom to Gondor

Yazdan's wide eyed wonder and smile as he sings Lorien

Sam's quiet, muttered "no Frodo" when Frodo says "goodbye Sam" during the final (I love to have my heart smashed into a thousand pieces)

Charlotte as Rosie - so joyful and sweet and strong and A++++ fiddling

whoever's job it was to stick their hand through a hole in the ceiling and drop leaves one by one while the ents were talking

Nuwan's Sam and Louis' Frodo, how tender and in love they were

HANDS

Tiny weirdo powerhouse Georgia Louise Galadriel!! Best Galadriel performance ever.

Boromir and Sioned-Elf’s mesmerising interaction at Lothlorien

Legolas and Gimli's arm clasp / forehead touch during Wonder

Bilbo’s birthday party in the garden and getting to wish him a happy birthday

Frodo’s expression when Elrond gives him his blessing

Elf hand choreography and hand speak!!

Literally everything about Nuwan and Louis in Now and for Always

Sassy Elrond/Saruman

Aaron’s soft boi Aragorn. I stan a gentle king.

Nuwan's Sam being decisive and protective with Frodo and taking no sh*it. "Lots of fruit around here!" comes to mind.

#lotr musical #lord of the rings musical #lotr #watermill anniversary creative celebration #long post #thanks everyone for sending these in i had the best time reading through all the responses #all of which are very normal #also if you want me to add/remove credit for your responses let me know :)))

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tathrin · 2 years ago

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btw for anyone worrying that the zombie story is Too Much Gore And Grimdark Horror for them, I would like to just take this moment to reassure you that it also contains scenes like these, in which Gimli is the unwitting protagonist of a Teen RomCom, as was pointed-out so delightfully by @estel-of-the-eyrie that I haven't stopped giggling about it since:

Soft voices in the gathering room are followed by plodding footsteps that the frail walls of wood are too thin to muffle, and then by a sharp, rickety knock on the door of his room.

"Gimli, lad?" Fiar calls softly through the wood. "You have a visitor, if you're up for it."

Gimli blinks and levers himself up onto his elbows. He stares, bewildered, although the smooth wooden door does not offer any answers. Those are not the words he expected to hear. He had thought, if he was to be called on at all, that it would have been something more along the lines of So-and-so has dropped by to chat and wanted to tell you how sorry he is about your dad, or I'm off to the park with my friend what's-his-name, would you care to come along and get some fresh air? Something where the visitor had come here to see his hosts, and was including Gimli out of politeness or sympathy.

To hear that this visitor is here for him, in this valley where he is a stranger…

Gimli realizes who it must be, and groans.

He throws down the pillow, pushes himself up off the bed, and stomps to the door. There he musters a polite nod for Fiar before he looks past him, already tilting his face upwards with a scowl, and says brusquely, "What is it now, elf? Have you not pestered me enough, that you must hound me in my—"

His voice falters; his scowl dissolves. It is not Legolas at whom he is glaring, Legolas who always somehow seems to appear whenever he leaves the front door of this house but who has, so far, never passed the threshold to intrude upon his mournful solitude here. It is instead Elrond, the great nestando of lore and legend who oversees much of the work at the Imladris Teaching and Research Hospital and who seems to have taken the lead on investigating this strange, terrible new disease.

Gimli goes silent, his tongue sticking numbly to the roof of his mouth.

* * *

Gimli lies awake late that night, staring up at the dark rustle of leaves overhead and the faint shadow of Legolas sitting up on watch among the branches of his trees. Gimli cannot sleep. It is not the restlessness of travel like that which plagued him on his journey from Erebor that keeps his eyes open in the dark; then, it was sometimes a struggle to fall into slumber after a day spent crammed into a small car, his mind tired but his body itching to move. Tonight it is his mind that reels, spiraling like the glimmer of bright stars passing above in between the shapes of the clustered trees.

He cannot sleep, because he cannot stop hearing Calim's words repeating in his head, over and over, like the echo of a distant voice in some endless mine.

Are you not? Calim had asked when Gimli protested being named as part of a pair with the strange elf of Mirkwood. He sticks as close to your heels as a burr most of the time, and when he isn't, your eyes do little but trace after him until he returns. Haven't you noticed?

Gimli rolls over, tugging his sleeping bag up over his shoulder, and scowls into the darkness.

Haven't you noticed?

No, he has not noticed, because there is nothing to see. Only now that Calim has drawn his eye to it, Gimli cannot help but admit that the nassë has a point. Legolas does stick to Gimli's heels, and has ever since their separate arrivals in Rivendell. Gimli noticed that much himself, and even asked Legolas about it before; fine, he will grant Calim that much. But to think that Gimli himself notices when Legolas is not there, as though he cares—as though the elf's absence bothers him—and watches for him until he returns…!

Surely he does not. Surely.

And yet…

Gimli growls into his pillow and rolls over the other way, scowling into the darkness on the other side of him now.

All right, so he does. What of it? He has grown so used to the irritation of the feckless elf's presence that he notices when Legolas is not there, that is all. And having seen how ill-equipped the elf is to look after himself in a land so different from his own strange uncivilized forest, Gimli cannot help but pay mind to him, in case he gets himself into some sort of trouble. That is all.

Surely, that is all.

Gimli closes his eyes and presses his hands to his face and groans into his palms.

Damn that ridiculous, flighty, nonsensical Wood-elf, anyway!

#gimleaf #lotr zombie au #my writing #lotr fanfiction

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writesaboutdragons · 1 month ago

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365 Proverbs for Daily Living

Day 83 – Don't Go There

So now, sons, listen to me, and pay attention to the words I speak. Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways - do not wander into her pathways; for she has brought down many fatally wounded, and all those she has slain are many. Her house is the way to the grave, going down to the chambers of death. (Pro 7:24-27 NET)

Read: Judges 16:4-30

For those who love the Lord of the Rings, who can forget the scene where Gimli is laughing about the Mines of Moria, and the hero’s welcome waiting for them there?

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Oh, Lol, sorry, couldn't resist. THat's not the scene I meant.

While Gandalf is summoning light after the magic door is finally opened, Gimli goes on about the roaring fires and food waiting for them. How the caves are a home of his cousin, and they call it a ‘mine’… And then the light of Gandalf’s staff reveals that it wasn’t what they expected, but a tomb.

Here's the scene I meant.

youtube

That scene sticks with you. The movies do a masterful job of reflecting the underlying message Tolkien was attempting to convey in it. That things aren’t always what they seem. What you’ve heard isn’t always true, your mileage may vary, some restrictions apply, limited time offer, void where prohibited, no refunds, no exchanges, no substitutions, sold by weight not by volume, causes cancer in the State of California, not valid in the state of Utah. What Gimli was expecting was a warm welcome. What he found was death.

Samson found death too. It was sad that his heart was set on the women of the Philistines. They sometimes betrayed him out of fear of their masters, or sometimes, like Delilah, for money. His disastrous fall is a watchout for all of us, frankly.

Solomon concludes his appeal to his sons on the subject of adultery. He warns them not to go there. The list of people slain by her is long. The men slain by her were strong, Samson being the best example. It’s dangerous to play with this kind of fire, kiddies, and asbestos underwear won’t protect you from her in the long run. Whether you are a man or woman, boy or girl, whether you identify as a mushroom, the sexual pleasures with somebody else’s spouse are a good way to end up dead.

Those hormones help us find joy with the wife of our youth, the one God intended. They are such a powerful force and voice for good, dear Christian. But like all other blessings God gives us, the devil, and our flesh, can twist it into one of the most powerful tools of the enemy. So just. Don’t. Go. There.

Prayer:

Father God, help me to stay true to you, by reading your word, by praying, and enjoying the blessings you give me, today. Amen

#christian #devotional #365 devos #365 proverbs for daily living #LOTR #Star wars #lightsaber #Youtube

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frodo-cinnamonroll · 2 years ago

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Staying Close

GIF from @Heather Kouri on Pinterest

Plot/prompt: Prompt 1-3: Y/N is a member of the Fellowship of the Ring. During the journey up Caradhras (one of the Mountains of Moria), one of the hobbits (your choice) is really struggling with the cold. He starts showing signs of hypothermia and Y/N has to help him (possibly with snuggles?) Requested by @almost-gabrielle with Frodo as the main hobbit.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: quite fluffy, hypothermia and its symptoms

_____________________________________

It looked bad. Very bad. It looked like the impersonation of wrath, not as fire, but as ice. The stinging flakes of snow swirled and writhed madly in the merciless wind whose piercing shrieks filled my ears. It seemed that was all I could hear. Nearly every part of me felt numb and the icy talons of the storm clawed at me furiously. I was shivering uncontrollably but I kept on.

Not far away in front of me was a bluish shape of Aragorn’s figure and two hobbits. He was carrying—or attempting to carry—them above the chest-high snow that was only growing taller. I felt like I was going nowhere and quickly losing energy.

How much farther? My mind kept saying. How much farther?

My heart ached for warmth, even a small fire or a single dry blanket. But I had none of those things, so I kept going along. Aragorn and Boromir were shouting at Gandalf over the wind, but I could only hear snippets of what they were saying.

Out of nowhere, there was a sudden crack! of lightning and a bunch of large rocks came hurtling down the mountain right at us. We all leaned up against the mountain and were barely missed by the tumult.

I felt a hopelessness rising in me of fear that we would never make it out alive. Tears froze on my face as I looked to the front of our line.

"There's a fell voice in the air," Legolas said, peering into the blizzard.

Gandalf shouted, “It's Sauraman!”

I looked up and saw a mountain of snow falling directly towards us. In an instant, what felt like miles of snow landed on top of me and I was surrounded by white. The air around me had vanished and I felt I couldn’t move. I felt helpless. I was trapped.

“No,” I cried. “No. Help! Help me!” But my calls were muffled and my lungs burned.

Then my thoughts turned from me and to Frodo and the other hobbits. How would they survive? A sudden flame was lit within me and I pushed with all my might, struggling to breathe. And there it was! I felt the whipping wind lashing against my hand. It took me a moment to get my grip, but when I did I finally heaved myself out, and, to my relief, saw that the others had done the same. My breaths were gasps and I was even colder, but I was alive.

I looked at Frodo. He seemed even colder than I felt.

“We must get off the mountain!” Boromir shouted. “Make for the Gap of Rohan and make our way down the West Road to my city.”

“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” Aragorn said.

“If we cannot go over the mountain,” Gimli said now, “then let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria.”

“Let the Ring-bearer decide,” Gandalf said so quietly I could barely hear it over the storm.

Frodo looked up and glanced at me, then Sam.

“We cannot stay here!” Boromir shouted. “This will be the death of the hobbits!”

“Frodo,” Gandalf said.

Frodo looked worried and said, “We will go through the Mines.”

“So be it,” Gandalf said.

Everyone turned around with some difficulty and we began our trek back down Caradhras. The snow was quite deep, and I was hardly able to move through it. Legolas led the way and Boromir managed to push his way past and dug through the snow with Merry and Pippin. Aragorn followed, carrying Sam and Frodo. I followed next and Gimli and Gandalf behind me with Bill the Pony in tow.

After what seemed like hours with the snow hardly letting up, the wind began to die down more and the snow became less deep. Finally, we reached a rocky spot where the snow was quite shallow. There was a shallow cave in the mountain not far ahead to our right. Aragorn and Boromir set the hobbits down and we all paused. I peeked over the edge of the mountain then stepped back quickly, regretting it. The hobbits said nothing and they seemed very tired.

“I think it would be best if we took a rest,” Aragorn said. “Night is falling upon us fast and we won’t be able to see much longer.”

Gandalf nodded and without a word we all made for the cave, our feet dragging. Frodo was in front of me and he was shivering hard. I put a hand on his back and he smiled up at me to the best of his ability. He seemed exhausted and all of the sudden he slipped, landing in the snow. I quickly was at his side and helped him up. He struggled to stand, his eyes heavy. His skin was about as cold as the snow itself.

“You’re freezing,” I said, kneeling and looking in his eyes.

“I . . . I,” Frodo started. “I can’t f-feel . . . I can’t . . . I’m so cold . . .”

I felt a panic rise within me as Frodo swayed where he stood. I didn’t wait and picked him up, carrying him the rest of the short distance. I felt hardly any warmth from Frodo. Gimli started a small fire with the little wood we had packed on Bill. Everyone gathered around and I set Frodo as near to it as I dared. Aragorn looked concerned as he watched. He knelt and placed a hand on Frodo’s forehead.

“He’s cold,” he said, his voice reflecting the worry I felt. “Too cold.”

“He’s freezing,” I said, my voice wavering. I began to unfasten the cloak I wore but Aragorn stopped me.

“You need warmth as well,” he unfastened his cloak instead and wrapped Frodo in it. He then went and grabbed some food where Sam was unpacking it.

“I’m alright . . . I can . . . can,” Frodo said.

“No you are not,” I said. “Listen, I need you to stay as warm as possible. Let me help you.”

Frodo looked at me and nodded. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

His eyes were heavy and they were slowly closing. I could feel a slight warmth now. I sat back against the stony wall, holding Frodo close. It wasn’t long before Frodo’s head drooped on my shoulder and he relaxed, but was still shivering a little. I looked down at him, a small smile on my face. Very very gently I laid my hand on his head and ran my fingers through his damp hair. Ever so slowly he was growing warmer. Relief swept over me as I watched his sleeping form bundled up in the cloak.

Night fell quickly and I could see nothing beyond what the fire illuminated. Everyone was keeping near the fire. Gimli began to tell stories of Moria and its glory in the days long past. Boromir would interject every now and then and tell tales of Gondor. Sam came over and sat down next to me, looking at Frodo.

“How is he, Y/N?” he whispered.

“Alright,” I said. “He’s warmer now.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“I don’t know what I would do otherwise.”

Time passed, and I could see the foggy light of the moon weakly shining through the snow clouds, but only barely. Merry and Pippin were both asleep now and Gimli was starting to nod off.

Frodo shifted in my arms and his eyes opened. He rubbed them and stretched groggily.

“What is the time?” he whispered as Sam got up to get him some food.

“I cannot say,” I said, brushing the hair from his eyes. “How do you feel?”

Frodo yawned and sat up, still sitting close. “Better, much better.” He looked up at me with those precious eyes of his and my heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

I smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You didn’t have to,” Frodo said, a slight tone of guilt in his voice.

“I wanted to. I want to.”

Frodo was about to say something but to his surprise and my own I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his soft lips. Frodo blinked multiple times, staring blankly as his face turned red. He looked down.

“I—I’m so sorry!” I whispered, feeling terrible. “I don’t know what happened. I just—”

All of the sudden a warmth filled me as Frodo now kissed me back. Then we both sat back blushing furiously but smiling at each other.

“Thank you,” Frodo said. And he smiled broader.

“I . . . Thank you. I now see that trudging through the snow on the side of a perilous mountain was worth it,” I said. “Either way it would have been.”

“I second.”

“Your dinner, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, a grin on his face. Frodo blushed again and took the food. “I’m going to bed . . . lovebirds.”

Frodo opened his mouth and closed it. He looked at me and I giggled. Frodo wrapped us in the cloak and we held each other. We were quite cozy and despite the weather and danger of the journey, I felt happier than I had ever been.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years ago

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October 14th

Superstitions

This one is a nod to my favourite Gigolas fic Gold Coin by AlexFlex & a homage to all the amazingly beautiful and talented Gigolas writers on this platform.

Words: 545

Warnings: None

Legolas knelt on the damp forest floor, breathing in the fresh, clean air around him eagerly as he harkened to the voices of the woods.

“Come closer,” he called softly when he sensed another presence behind him, “friend of mine.”

Gimli ambled over carefully, placing each of his boots with great circumspection to avoid treading on any of the delicate flowers that waved like a living, verdant sea around the ethereal creature sitting motionless amongst them.

The spirits – old as time and wary of intruders – of every living thing recoiled as the resounding steps of a foe fell like steel hammers onto the fertile ground, but Legolas sent out his own mind to pacify his surroundings.

“Touch your forehead to the grass so the forest may know you,” he bade Gimli softly, his eyes alight with the strange and frightening magic of his timeless people.

Nonetheless, Gimli did as he was told, taking off his helmet and putting it reverently onto a pillow of moss; his hair and beard were precious to him and hence, he’d offer them to the living soil as a token of honesty. May whatever powers Legolas was in communion with recognise his loyal heart and good intentions, he thought peacefully as the wind brushed through his braids and the smell of wet earth permeated his thick beard.

“This is my friend, Gimli,” Legolas prayed in a language Gimli could not understand in his mind and yet the words flowed through his heart like a river of truth. “Humbly, I ask of you to shield him from danger and nourish him when he is weary. The love I bear him I throw into the balance of his kind’s crimes against root and leaf, in hopes that you’ll find clemency blooming where bitterness thrives.”

He as well touched his brow to the ground, bowing deeply before a might that had witnessed and sustained his people’s efforts, fights, and victories throughout ages dark and terrible.

When they rose, silently, Gimli dared grasp Legolas’ hand and led him to a small rocky outcrop at the edge of the clearing; there, he laid down two votive stones he must have been carrying all the while and – placing both his broad, callused, strong hands onto the sun-warmed stone – he closed his eyes in silent prayer to Mahal, his maker.

He as well invoked whatever grace and goodwill invested in his steadfast courage and sturdy nature so that the Smith might look kindly upon one wrought of elegant and graceful willows and dreams instead of unyielding metal.

“Lend him strength,” Gimli rumbled frantically within his head, “and steel his slender body against the onslaught of evil forces seeking to cut what should never be frayed. Stone who is root to this world, I beg of you to lead his light steps to better days.”

Tucking one of his stones back into a secret pocket in his armour, Gimli handed the other to Legolas with a hacked-off snort.

You are mine, this stone declared brazenly, your life and mine are intertwined.

Superstitions, the dark as much as the more hopeful ones, when shared thus passed over into the realm of faith and the world they so loved listened to their fervent pleas and – in time – would grant them.

@fellowshipofthefics here's my latest entry. Still on track :D

Lots of love from me :)

-> Masterlist

#fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #fotfics October challenge #fotfics fictober #ficlet run #1 scene per day #a different pairing every day #LOTR #Lord of the Rings #Legolas #Gimli #Gigolas #Gimleaf #superstitions #begging for another

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heilith · 4 years ago

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Feel me

Based off this imagine - Imagine getting stuck in a small place with Legolas and being able to feel exactly how much fun he’s having . I think I might even continue this one. Sorry if it’s too straightforward - I wrote it very quickly, which is against my usual ways.

Hope you like it. In fact, I hope someone reads it, lol.

@oenothera5 May be, you would like to take a look? I don’t know how you feel about Legolas, so sorry.

Feel me.

At least it felt warm.

A welcome change after the ghostly breath of the Hollin Ridge, the icy kisses of the winds, sweeping along the Pass of Caradhras, or the damp chill of the Halls of Moria which you’d stepped into two or three hours ago. A whole life ago – at this point you couldn’t really tell.

You shifted uncomfortably, and the response was immediate.

More tension could only leave his muscles torn, more heat would send him along the road of agonizing Feanor.

His arms were limp along his sides.

You couldn’t but acknowledge it was, all in all, your fault.

You hadn’t been easy on him. Never out of a teasing word, nor short of an offhand touch. You would smile at him when his eyes found yours, a carefully measured curve of your lips, just mild enough, but not at all beckoning. There’d been statements of gratitude and appreciation, a playful joke now and then…and, for the best detail, you’d never failed to show concern for his safety.

In bitter truth, you’d never really meant it.

His perfect presence would unsettle you, and, wallowing in your own insecurity, you’d been set on showing him how little you had thought of it.

Little had you known.

You could strangle Gandalf. And Gimli. If it hadn’t been for them, you wouldn’t have found yourself in this narrow crack in the mine wall, allowing passage from one gloomy hall to another. You would have chosen a proper, civilized corridor, which were, in fact, plenty and numerous in this place. The Dwarves had seen to that.

The never-ending wrangle between the mountain-dwellers and the Fair folk had something to do with your present misfortune, too.

Gimli just had to beat Legolas to the passage, effectively getting stuck in front of you, like a cork in a bottleneck. The Prince of Mirkwood came next, followed by your humble person. The entire flock of the Hobbits rammed flat into you to push you between the rocky wall and the all-too-responsive body of their Elven companion.

And there you were, reaping the fruit that you had sown.

“Gimli!” you called out, the catch in your voice oh-so-obvious to anyone who cared to hear it.

Pathetic.

A lump rose in your throat, as a gentle hand stole over your waist.

“Almost there, lass!” huffed the Dwarf with ungrounded enthusiasm.

Somewhere down the passage a ball of light swelled up, magicked to life by Gandalf, and you ventured to tilt you head up and steal a glance at the face of the Elf, who was towering over you motionlessly.

The look of his eyes unsettled you even more than the look in them. His pupils had shrunk to naught, the pale blue rims around them widening until they were fairly enormous – unproportionately so.

He was hard, so hard against you. You were nearly nauseous with the wave of plain, unmasked, painful yearning, that came off him, and too fainthearted to look away.

“A-ha!”

With an outcry of triumph Gimli wiggled out of the stony trap and moved on, no longer an obstacle in your path.

You flinched into motion without hesitations.

It would be a relief to say you imagined the feeling of stranger fingers, sliding down your spine softly and the sound of blood-chilling whisper in a tongue you couldn’t have been bothered to learn.

You didn’t dare to turn around.

There was such a long road ahead.

PART 2 (SORT OF)

#legolas #legolas drabbles #legolas x reader

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 2 years ago

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Thranduil and Josie Pt. 135- Forbidden Fruit

Summary: Legolas and company arrive in Jareth's realm. Thranduil's escape is now known to goblin town. The Elvenking reminds Raven of her place. They come across a prisoner with a shocking identity. Josie dreams of something unexpected, or was it? Garrett is given an order. Narcisse and Jo have a long talk that ends on a touchy note.

*Warnings* angst, violence, language, smut

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Breaking Dawn

The twilight hours of dawn were breaking as Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn approached the borders of Jareth's dark realm with a sinister storm lingering over the Misty Mountains. They were right on time as Legolas predicted to his father with the fortune of not having any delays, but they all knew ominous obstacles would soon entail in the dark dead forest that was very much alive.

"Legolas. Are you there my son?" Thranduil anxiously called to the soon to be Prince again.

Legolas kept riding while he spoke to him telepathically so that outside forces would not hear his voice or what he spoke of. Aragorn glanced back at him as he noticed his slowed pace. Legolas nodded with an affirmative smile in which Aragorn understood that he was in contact with Thranduil.

"Adar. I am here with Aragorn and Gimli. We are entering the forest now. Are you alright?"

"You brought the disrelishing dwarf?!"

Legolas was taken aback by that being Thranduil's only concern and confused as to why his father would even be upset over Gimli's presence, for Thranduil knew how close he and Legolas had become and even Thranduil himself had softened to dwarf for his loyalty to his son...but then Legolas remembered what Galadriel had warned him of. That Thranduil's mind had been severely manipulated by the goblin King and his father's words just proved it.

"Father, yes. I could not spare our guard, for the spiders are out of control. I believe it to be of Shelob's doing, for she still remains in the woodland realm." Legolas explained,

Thranduil knew that Legolas would also be quite displeased with his own company, Raven, whom he decided to take with him, so he temporarily backed down some on his grievance, for it was not of priority at that time.

"Very well. I will just have to endure it....for the time being. I have my swords, and Jareth and Harker have been momentarily subdued, but the goblin guard are vastly about and..."

Horns sounded beneath the mountain, alerting Thranduil to his now known escape. He regretted not beheading the two warlocks but he also knew it would later be worth letting them exist, for he planned to torture them as they did him, just in a more purposely indiscreet way for him to take great satisfaction in....and then, he would later kill them with unkindness. Jareth would soon know who was more powerful.

"Adar??!" Legolas called to Thranduil multiple times, but with no response.

Aragorn stopped and turned his horse to face the elf. "Legolas?"

"I have lost contact. We must get inside of that mountain immediately." Legolas firmly replied.

They all carried on, cautiously creeping through the forest, eyeing all of their surroundings for the evil threats that lurked in it.

Legolas's thoughts kept drifting to you, and he knew he had to now be careful of them. His concerns were not only of knowing any possible chance he may have had with you was now lost forever, but also of what Thranduil's changed behavior would mean for your future with the King.

Thranduil and Raven left Jareth's personal chambers with his twin swords in hand as the horns sounded and he immediately discarded Harker's sword as if it were trash.

"Are you crazy?" Raven reeled. "I'll take that. We are going to need all the help we can to get out of here now that they know you have escaped, which means Jareth is coming for us."

"It is a mere butter knife compared to my swords. We have all we need. You have power if I am not mistaken and I have regained mine. Let him come. See how far he gets."

"It will still do the job and I wouldn't be so overly confident. Our powers and these swords cannot take on thousands, if not more, of the goblins that are down here. I have seen it. There are swarms of them. Not to mention Jareth and his ring of power, now that he has recovered. You should have taken it! and also killed him and Harker! Why didn't you??! That book is not the only way to off the goblin King as most think!"

Thranduil's eyes raged as his hand snapped around her throat.

"Do not bark orders at me or question me! It is you that would seem overly confident of my help. I can and will leave you here and you will never get out of here alive. Jareth will surely torture and kill you now. The choice is yours."

Raven swiftly nodded with widened tearful eyes, for it was all that she could do in his death grip. She knew he was right. Jareth would never forgive her this time and she was one small dhampir against him and a beastly army.

"Wise choice." Thranduil snarled as he released her.

"This way." Raven forced out through her constricted airways and rushed off.

Down a dark spiral stairwell she led Thranduil, which entered in to a dripping wet and rancid dungeon with more unoccupied cages, or so she thought. As they passed one, a man's voice called out to them.

"King Thranduil?!"

Thranduil halted, not recognizing the voice. He side eyed the dimly lit cell and then slowly turned to view the tall shirtless stranger standing at the door who appeared as if he had been incarcerated for some time, for he resembled a drowned rat.

"Whom are you and how do you know of me?"

Raven was also curious to know that answer as she looked the extremely fit and oddly tattooed man up and down. She had seen the markings before. One in particular on your neck back at Lestat's now burned down chateau.

"Everyone knows of you. You are the reason I am even here. My name is Jace."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he took a step towards him, studying the man's face as he stroked his damp straggly blonde hair back from his eyes with an injured hand.

"Why does that name seem familiar?"

Thranduil stepped closer into the glow of the candlelight, getting a better view of his features.

"Your...eyes. I know them....one brown, one...blue." Thranduil said in astonishment. "You are...Jareth's son. Ravenna is your mother."

"Wait, what??" Raven asked, even more astonished and bit fearful at the mention of that witch's name.

"Yes...unfortunately, both are true." Jace answered in shame.

"Why on earth would Jareth imprison his own son?" Raven asked in disbelief.

"The same reason he does not even care for his own daughter, my sister, Josephine. He's a monster. My mother is no better, and by far worse. I've been on my own for as long as I can remember, but my mother still continues to search for me as she is doing now." Jace replied.

"Yes. I know of you now. You disowned them centuries ago and have rebelled against the two. That would be the only thing I could possibly admire you for. But, you are still a warlock of his blood and that wretched witch Queen's blood as well. Why has he detained you?" Thranduil inquired.

"Because as I said, I came here for you. I had reason to believe you were alive after speaking with your Queen and I came here in secrecy to verify that. Once I had validation of seeing you in that cage, I tried to help you...but as you can see, I failed."

"Do not refer to that woman as my Queen, for that will be nullified once I have returned to my throne."

"I can see Jareth has gotten to you as he has my uncle Julian and Aunt Freya as well. I am certain he plans to do the same to me. You must realize you were brainwashed. It was Jareth's plan to make you despise everyone, to be evil like him, to no longer love your Qu...Josephine. He believes love is forbidden, a gospel passed down by my wicked grandmother Jada and he plans to turn all of middle earth into hatred, and even permanent winter if she has her way. You are his pawn. He will eventually go after the other high elves. Do you not see that you are different? This is not what you want."

"Enough! Are you implying that my feelings are not real, male witch?!"

"How else do you explain your history of loving Josephine? Your memories are in tact yes? And now they, she, suddenly mean nothing to you?"

"What do you know of love? Nothing! I have had my share of heartache from whores like her!" Thranduil growled in rage as his scars briefly surfaced, shocking Jace.

"I...I know of it because I saw it in her eyes when she spoke of you. She is broken and lost, believing you are dead...You speak ill of my sister and yet here you are with her sister that you both understandably despise?"

"Excuse me?!! You don't know me!" Raven snapped.

"I know plenty dhampir. I was not born yesterday. Word gets around, just like you do. You're wicked and if anyone should be addressed as a whore, it's you. Like mother, like daughter."

Raven gasped incredulously. "And here I was going to try and free you because I know what it's like to be a prisoner of the goblin King. You can just stay here and rot with your creepy tattoos."

"They're runes you imbecile. Apparently you were born yesterday."

"Here, let me dry you off. You reek of a wet dog!" Raven retorted with a smile on her face and raised her hand which exploded into a fireball.

Jace became enraged as his eyes glowed a threatening orange, but that was all the power he could muster up in his enervated state.

"Raven! Enough! He's weak and not worth the effort." Thranduil commanded. "We have wasted valuable time here. I agree, let him rot. It is time to go."

"You'll regret this if Jareth gets his hands on that book and all of middle earth becomes the evil dead!" Jace shout echoed behind them as they turned the corner without looking back.

Dorwinion

You awoke to the sunlight beaming in your eyes from the large bay window in Narcisse's living quarters. The last thing you remembered was laying down on the sofa and gazing at the ceiling with all your thoughts swirling about in your head. Obviously you had immediately fallen asleep, which was quite understandable after yesterday's and last night's events in the city. It must have been after 4 am when you had drifted off and now it was 8 am as servants were pacing about the rooms with their daily chores of cleaning and what not.

You could hear Stephane talking to them from his bedroom chamber, which you sighed in relief to hear his voice, knowing he was alright, for your intentions had been to stay awake and watch over him.

Leean was awake as well, cooing up a storm like usual in her waking hours, waiting on you to pick her up. She was such a good baby, rarely ever cried and always seemed happy, which you were more than grateful for.

You got up and snuggled her in your arms as you discreetly peeked around the corner to see what was happening in Narcisse's room. From what you could see, he had been brought the mornings breakfast...and you could smell the aroma of maple syrup, making you slightly tear up over Garrett. You already missed him tremendously and hoped he was tuned into your present thoughts to know that. The two of you would forever be joined in that way by sharing each other's blood, but he, just like you, he had the power to shut his mind off when he wanted to.

You gathered up an armful of yours and Leean's things and pushed her crib into the washroom to feed and bathe her, and then take your turn in a desperately needed bath. As you fed her, you sat and thought about Matthew Clairmont and his revelations to you of his far away future union with your daughter and wondered when you would see him again, for you knew Haldir was right, he would surely come back. It was definitely a bit creepy, the twilight version of Jacob and Renesmee because you didn't know something like that existed...but then again, hadn't you? The world you now lived in was all of magic and it was written in the stars for you and Thranduil to find each other as well, just in a not so blatant way. You had always felt him somehow without even knowing who he was yet, and it had been the same for him....you both knew the other existed without knowing the identity or when or where you would both meet...and when the stars finally aligned... he was just...gone in the blink of an eye. The pages from your book of love just torn out and shredded.

After bathing Leean and dressing her, you then laid her back in her cradle and covered her up. You pinned up your hair and climbed into the inviting liquid and began quietly sobbing as Leean laid in her crib gazing at her hands and feet that she had recently discovered. She was growing and Thranduil was missing all of it....and she was missing all of him.

Leean soon dozed off and then so did you in the calming water....and you began to dream...of Garrett.

You were lying in bed...Garrett's bed... and he was on top of you, both of you unclothed and kissing passionately as the sunlight shone in.

"Garrett...." you panted.

"What is it little one?" he whispered as his lips teased yours.

"I...I...love you too."

His fingers traced your skin from your forehead to your neck as his aroused deep blue eyes peered into yours with overwhelming joy of finally hearing those words from you.

"I...I don't know what to say Josephine...."

You giggled. "How about that you love me too?"

"Oh you know I do, so much it hurts. I love you Josephine. Always."

"I want you Garrett. Now. Make love to me. Please..."

He smiled and kissed you softly, gliding his cool tongue in slow gentle circles around yours, which caused you to grind your hips up against him. His cock was solid and warm, eagerly searching for your entrance. As his girthy glans found it, he thrusted into you, strong and deep, filling you up. You gasped and he growled as you dug your nails into his shoulder blades and locked your legs around him. Slowly, you both rocked together as he ravished your neck with no fear of him biting you.

His half swayed motions as he stayed pressed against you had your sweet spot daring to rupture.

"Jos...Joseph...ine...I...I can't...."

His inability to control himself triggered your release switch.

"Garrett!! Oh my...god...I...I...I'm...coming." you cried as your walls vigorously pulsated over him. "Oh goddddddd!!! FUCK!!"

Garrett groaned loudly and heavily, releasing with you as his unbeating heart audibly pounded through your ears to the rhythm of his strong vampire thrusts.

The pounding got louder and you gasped awake in the bath, still climaxing as someone was knocking on the door. You slapped your hand over your mouth as a squeal muffled through while you pressed your knees together, rocking your hips though the most insane orgasm that made your entire body convulse.

"Who..who is it?" you panted as the aftershocks rippled through your core. You stood up in shock, grabbing your robe as your legs still shook something awful.

"It's Lola Miss. The servants told me you were in here. Lord Narcisse is asking for you."

"I..I'll be right out. I was in the bath."

You quickly dried off and dressed in a furious frenzy, wondering if Garrett did this. Invaded your dreams again. He had only ever done this once before while you bathed, and that was when he was a different man, so you had a hard time believing he would do it to you again. But this time was also different. He was loving and tender, not just plain sexual. If he didn't do it, then your dream only meant one thing....it was going to happen.

"Garrett, if you were trying to prove a point, you made it...you jerk!" you reeled at your reflection in the mirror as you ripped the brush through your hair and pinned it back up.

You received no answer so he was either ignoring you or tuned out...or he just didn't know what to say,...again. But you believed he was listening. After all, you had hoped he was only moments earlier, so this was probably your fault.

"I know you can hear me! Be here...tonight. The beach. We are going to talk Garrett Lee!"

"Jo...it is really good to see you. The servants said you were still here." Narcisse said as he situated himself in the bed.

He was moving about more comfortably and his color had returned, making the bruising on his face less visible due to him headbutting that man. You sat down beside him and placed your hand upon his to try and ease his apparent anxiety. He seemed both shocked and relieved to see you, but you could tell he had been worried you left.

"I told you I would stay didn't I? I brought Leean in here after you fell asleep and I planned on staying awake to watch over you, but I fell asleep on the sofa. You seem to be feeling better?"

"I am, all thanks to you...and of course your scrumptious sandwiches and that wicked tea I consumed. The servants brought in breakfast. Would you like to share it with me?"

"Uh, sure. But it is more imperative that you eat to help you heal."

"And you as well, for yourself and for that beautiful little girl in there. Where is she by the way? I would love to see her."

You loved how much he adored her and how good he was with her...and now you could partly see why considering he had a child of his own that you recently discovered.

"Actually, I had Lola take her out for awhile so we could finally talk. You can see her later, I promise."

"Talk, yes. I suppose there is much to be discussed." he said, not seeming too thrilled to relive yesterday.

You pulled the food tray over and handed him a glass of juice in which he wasted no time in gulping down, so you poured him another and then yourself some.

"So what would you like? It appears to be everything here but the kitchen sink."

Narcisse chuckled. "Yes, my servants feed me well. If you would be so kind, I would like some of the sausage and eggs."

You figured protein to be his choice which certainly helped him keep that gloriously fit body. Stabbing some eggs onto the fork, you began to bring it to his mouth. His eyes widened some as he embarrassingly grinned.

"You're...going to...feed me?"

"Oh..ohhh, I'm sorry. Old habits die hard I suppose. I..I used to feed my father when he was ill and...well, I just feel really stupid now."

"Jo...it's alright. Judging by my condition, I probably seem that I need some assistance, but... I...I don't mind...if..you don't."

"Hmm..well. People aren't always what they seem."

You brought the form back up to him and he slowly took a bite as you both stared at each other.

"No..I suppose they're not. Jo, what's on your mind? I can tell there's something you wish to know."

You gave him a bite of the sausage. "I don't even know where to begin."

"The beginning is a pretty good start." he said with a smile as you continued feeding him.

"Why did you really go there last night? I heard what you said to that man....about...your father?" you blurted out.

'Well then I suppose you already know the answer to that. He killed my father many years ago. I..I don't speak of it but...no one has ever asked...until now. Annnd, with all that happened yesterday, I felt it to be a good way to get my frustrations out."

"Stephane...I..I remember when I found you in the cathedral, sitting alone in your thoughts after what Catherine did to your horse. You spoke of loss and I could tell you had suffered a great one like I had....and now I know what that loss was. I am so sorry. For your father, and just for...everything...accusing you of such horrible things. I know it was all Catherine, and I should have known it all along."

"Let's move past that. I understand why you would think what you did, now that I am able to even think straight about it all. Catherine will have her day soon enough. I have plans for her...and her daughter as well, for I believe she knew of her mother's misdeeds and that...is also a crime. With that said, why don't you tell me why...you were there."

"Well, I suppose you already know the answer to that as well. For you."

Narcisse slightly smiled and tilted his head in astonishment.

"Are you serious?"

"I knew of the mental state you were in and when I learned of what the party was all about, I just had a really bad feeling of what you were going to do. My instincts are usually spot on and so...I needed to try and stop you from doing something foolish..."

"You were worried about me..."

"Well yes? Is that so hard to believe?"

'Actually, it is, when I have given you no reason to care for me at all."

"But you have, or I would not. So..would you like to tell me about your....son?" you asked as you fed him some more.

Narcisse stopped chewing as he gazed at you, then swallowed.

"I see Charles has been talking too much as usual. Not one of his finer qualities. He barely knows you."

"If it is some secret or whatever, you must know I would never say anything to anyone."

"Of course I know you wouldn't. It's no secret, although it was at one time. I guess I am a bit caught off guard, that's all. I never expected him to reveal that to you."

"Well don't be angry with him. Like me, he was worried about you and I think he really wanted to tell me. He...seemed quite proud of it too."

"Did he? Well, there was a time when he wanted nothing to do with me when he found out the truth. It took a lot of work to get to where we are now. You..must have been really shocked to learn I have a son with Catherine?"

"Very much so. I assume that...that is why you have not banished her from here? Charles don't seem to care much for her."

"It is, and he does not. Her great lie had finally caught up to her. When I met her all those years ago, she was married to a ruthless King, but I stupidly did not care and had my way with her behind his back. Not my finest moment, for I was in a different mind frame in those days. The affair ended with her reasoning being that she was going to try and work things out with him, and then I never saw her again for many years. I thought nothing of it, for she didn't mean anything to me...and then one day she showed up here with Claude and Charles who was then an adolescent, merely a 14 year old boy. She was distraught, told me that her husband banished her and that she took the children in the night and left. I was then informed as to why she was disowned. That Charles was my son and that her King had learned the truth one night when Charles's powers awakened. The King, knowing he was just a simple man and she a simple woman, then realized Charles was not his son. Now as ruthless as he was, he did in fact think of Charles as his own and did not hold that against him, which is why the King left all his fortune to him and Claude, but cut Catherine out. Of course, the children had no access to any of that with him still being alive and she had nowhere else to go, so...I took them all in. Charles, he figured it all out himself for the same reasons, that he had powers."

"I...yes, I saw his eyes briefly glow and...I had wondered why he addressed you by your name when he had told me he was your son."

"Yes...as I had said, he was very angry with me for sometime when he found out the truth. Catherine as well. Blamed us both for tearing his family apart, in which he had every right to feel that way. The more time we spent together, the more he softened to me, but his mother not so much. He still has never called me father and..I am ok with that, for I know he loved the father he knew. As far as Catherine, she threatened to disappear with Charles if I made her leave here. She knew how much I had grown to love him and used that against me. And...as much as I despise her now, she's still his mother and I know Charles still loves her even if he acts as if he don't, which is why I have been rather lenient with her. If I banished her or harmed her, he would hate me all over again. With that said, Charles knows of her evil ways and understands why I have her locked away. Believe me Jo, if I could do more, I wouldn't hesitate. If she had ever harmed you, it would all be over for her and the consequences be damned."

"I..I understand now and I am so sorry for how hard I was on you over her....but...what are you going to do with her then? Leave her in the dungeons forever?"

"That has yet to be determined, because there is also her daughter, whom I was told had went into labor this morning. Her and I haven't always seen eye to eye, mostly because of her advances on me just to spite her mother for her own reasons, but after what Asher did to her, like he tried to do to you, I have since tried to protect her. She did not deserve what he did to her and now the poor girl bears his child. I would have handled Asher then, but Claude would not reveal the father of her child out of fear, although I had my suspicions. After what he tried to do to you, she finally confessed it to me and so I...handled him. Shockingly though, she turned on me for it, calling me a monster. I suppose I was for how I handled it, but a lot of that had to do with Catherine's spell. So now...if the findings are that Claude aided her mother in any of her atrocities or knew about them, I will have no choice but to make her leave here eventually. I cannot have that behavior in my castle. She has a lifetime of money to raise her child and take her mother with her. I can only hope Charles will understand and hopefully choose to remain here."

"Now that he knows more of what his mother is capable of and has done, I think he will. Regardless of everything he has been through, somehow he seems to have turned out to be a pretty good kid and cares about you a lot. I don't think he would leave you. He stayed by your side the entire time last night until I came in. But...what about Catherine retaliating if you make her and Claude go? I know you were worried about that before."

"I suppose I will just have to cross that bridge when I get there. I gave orders this morning for Catherine's and Claude's rooms to be searched. So now, we wait.."

"Speaking of searching rooms, I had some things in my room I was wondering if you could ask the servants about, if they had found anything?"

"Of course Jo, what is it that you are looking for?"

"I..well, one thing is a record and then there's my dreamcatcher that Haldir had made for me and a...letter."

Narcisse strangely froze for a moment as stared at you. "A...letter?" he asked as his heart began to race, remembering Catherine had told him you would find the letter Thranduil wrote you someday.

"Yes...it was...well it was to Thranduil. Silly I know, but..it means everything to me."

He then looked a bit relieved and sighed. "Oh...well, that's not silly Jo. I will ask them when they return for the food tray. I am sure they have put your things away for safe keeping."

Narcisse's head now began to hurt as he brought his hand to it and winced. He knew his blood had all rushed into it so fast in his panic.

"Stephane?? Are you alright?"

"Yes, just a brief head rush. I suppose cracking my head against another's wasn't the brightest thing to do."

"Yeah, I'm still amazed at how it didn't even phase you in the moment. But now you have a nice shiner. You have one hard head I guess."

"That I do, in more ways than one.." he slyly smirked.

You side eyed him and shoved a whole piece of sausage in his mouth to match his double meaning, which made him laugh as he tried to chew all of it.

"I think you have suffered some brain damage." you snarked.

"Apologies Jo. I was just trying to lighten the serious mood."

"Yeah well, it's about to get more serious. Do you know a...Matthew Clairmont?"

He gulped his food down at your question. "Why on earth do you want to know about that vampire?"

"So you DO know him I see?"

"Jo, I probably know every vampire there is, just as Haldir does, so why are you asking me and not him?"

'Well because I didn't need to. Haldir had an altercation of sorts with him last night at the party...but I just wanted your input, if you had any."

"Clairmont was there? What on earth for??"

"Me..."

"You??? Jo...can you please be a bit more specific??" he adamantly asked as he sat all the way up.

"Calm down...I'll tell you alright? You're going to have a stroke or something."

"I'm sorry Jo but when you tell me a vampire was there for you who is quite far away from his own realm, I tend to get a little upset!"

"Well...he wasn't solely there for me..." you began to explain. You knew what you were about to tell him was going to make him explode.

"See...I had a dream on my way there..and well, I saw him in it...and then when we arrived, I saw him again but he ran off...then later he confronted me when I was alone and..."

"Jesus Jo! Why on earth didn't you tell me when..."

"I'm trying to now!! Will you just be quiet for two seconds??"

He slowly sat back with a sour look at your scolding.

"He wasn't there to harm me...."

He flung back up. "Then why did Haldir..."

"Oh my god, Stephane!!"

Narcisse sat back again with a sullen look this time. "Sorry..."

This was not going to go well you could see and you now wished you had never said anything....AND you hadn't even told him about Leean yet...and then there was also the matter of his drunken warlocks he needed to know about too.

"He was there for....Leean."

That did it. Narcisse sprung back up. "LIKE HELL!!"

You absolutely adored him in that moment, because it only verified to you how much he loved her.

You placed your hands on his face. "Hey, hey. Breathe. It's not what you think. He means her nor me any harm."

You went on to tell him the rest of the story as you watched his blood boil in the process.

"I cannot believe my ears right now. No wonder Haldir wanted his head! and you're ok with this! Is this why Haldir and you seemed at odds when he came into the arena??"

"It is, yes. I had more questions for Matthew and he scared him off. Not to mention he said some things he shouldn't have to me....and he's still angry. We had more words last night after we got back."

"Jo, you can't understand why he is so upset?? How can you even remotely be comfortable with this??"

"Ok, first of all, I do not owe you or him any explanations on why I do what I do! Do you really think I would be alright with it if I believed my daughter was in danger??? What kind of mother do you think I am??"

You were doing it all alone, with out Thranduil...and if he were here, he would hunt Clairmont down and have a bonfire with his body. Now you just felt even more guilty and began to sob with your face in your hands. Narcisse gently removed them and placed his hands on your face this time.

"I think you are the most incredible amazing loving mother in the world Jo, that would do anything to protect her child." he softly and sweetly said into your tear filled eyes. "I am so sorry for my reaction. I..I just care about you and that little girl so damn much. If you only knew..."

"It's just that...I...I saw them Stephane. I saw their love. It was real, just like I had..."

There you went bawling this time. Narcisse pulled you into his arms and held you while you cried your eyes out. The guilt was now eating him alive about Thranduil....but how on earth was he to tell you? How on earth was he to lose you?

"I...I believe you. It's just such a shock."

You sniffled and pulled back to look at him. "While we are in this heated moment, you might as well know something else."

His eyes closed as he sighed. "Alright...was is it?"

Two of your warlock guards were quite drunk last night on the patio and one said some vulgar things to me...about that drawing. Haldir heard it and not so nicely handled them both."

Narcisse rubbed his hand down your somber face. "They will answer for this, I swear it....I cannot apologize enough for ever doing that to you, humiliating you in such a way...or in any way for that matter. I..I never wanted to hurt you Jo..."

You could see the genuine remorse in his gleaming blue eyes and heard it in his soft voice.

"I know why you did it. Although I don't condone it, I understand what you were trying to do...protect me from Catherine by trying to make me hate you and leave..."

"And...do you...hate me?"

"Not even a little bit..."

There was a moment there between you both and you could tell he wanted to kiss you, but you backed away.

"I...umm...have something else to tell you too that's not of any good news either. Harker was also here...in the dark forest. He..was after me and Garrett. Narcisse, he wants that damn book and my pendant. Are you sure you do not know where my father hid Ashmole here in your realm?"

"Back up a minute please. Did he hurt you? What happened? And...why were you with Garrett...again?"

You heard it in his tone about Garrett...the jealousy.

"Why I was with him is irrelevant and I was slightly injured when Harker knocked us out of the air as Garrett tried to get me to safety...but...I am alright." you explained, leaving out your visit from Thranduil. The last thing you needed was someone else telling you it was a hallucination when you knew it wasn't. "Believe it or not, I had a similar bruise on my face like yours. And Leean...bless her sweet little heart, she, she healed it. This magnificent light came out of her tiny hand as she touched my cheek and then the bruise was just gone..."

"That is so wonderful Jo! She has your magic... and at such a young age. And no Jo, I truly do not know where the book is at. Julian did not even trust me with that secret, most likely to protect me and my kingdom."

"I believe you...and...It's Thranduil's magic...in her. His elven blood...."

"Yes, of course it is. So...do you think she could fix me up?" he chuckled.

"I can..."

You laid your your fingers gently over his cheekbone and closed your eyes. They softly glowed a light pink and then the contusion dissipated.

"There....all gone."

Narcisse just smiled and gazed at you. "I have no words for all that you have done for me. You saved my life Jo. Do you...remember when I said I felt different? Jo...I think you destroyed Catherine's spell with your magic. When you healed Haldir, or should I say resurrected, you said your emotions make you strong. I believe that so much now. I think they intensify your power."

"Then why didn't your wounds fully heal?"

"I don't know, but they're much better today. Possibly because of the severity? They were quite extensive unlike my little bruise."

"Speaking of Haldir...I should go see if he'll speak to me now. I kind of need some where to stay."

"Did you...think at all about my offer? For you and Leean to stay here at the castle with me? Jo, you and I, we can stay at my villa. You and Leean....would have your own chambers of course."

"No, I haven't really thought too much on it yet with all that has happened. I really need to speak to Haldir first and I got to talk to Garrett later too about stuff. I'll try to think it over later. And...as far as Garrett, I'll tell you what else I'd like to know. I saved this for last after what you told me of your suspicions on Claude. Someone from here put a deadly spell on him. Now of course I know you don't care and it doesn't break any of your rules because of who he is, but it fucking matters to me. Luckily, we were able to find a way to break it, but I will not let that go, just like I won't with Haldir's poisoning or what she's done to you. It was all done to hurt ME and she will suffer for that because unlike you, there's nothing keeping me setting that bitch on fire."

You sat emotionally firm in that statement as you pictured her burning at the stake.

"For the time being, you must stay away from her and let me handle this...I have great faith that book will be recovered in today's room searches. That and any other items of interest will be taken to my Master at Arms for investigation. Jo, I understand all of your animosity towards her, you know I do. You're right, I do not care about the vampire being collateral damage, but regardless, practicing black magic in my realm with evil intent is a crime....So, what is it with you and Garrett anyways?"

The last thing you wanted to do was talk to Stephane about Garrett on a personal level, considering both men wanted your affections....and that dream you had still had you a bit hot and bothered. Even if Garrett did enter your dreams by his doing, you still enjoyed every bit of it even if it pissed you off, which was because it made you face some things, things that made you feel terribly guilty for....such as...you told him you loved him. Garrett didn't make you say that...

"I think you should finish your breakfast. I am not going to talk to you about Garrett in that way no matter how many times you ask. Your servants are back. I will see you later."

"Jo...talk to me. What are you running from?"

"Um, right now? It's you I'm running from." you retorted.

"Jo, you didn't even eat."

"I'm just not hungry. I... I should go." you stood up, smiled and quickly left.

Narcisse smiled back as you walked away and then heavily sighed as his smile faded. He had to find a way to win your heart, for he feared Garrett had a good grip on it....but he knew he did too. He could feel it.

Then he remembered you had told him you would go on a date with him. Of course, it had only been to try and persuade him not to fight that man...but he was going to hold you to your words.

Narcisse finished his breakfast down to the last crumb of bread and got up to begin that tedious journey...

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heliads · 4 years ago

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One Rider in Particular

You first meet Eomer while traveling with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli in search of the hobbits. Is it strange that you should be so happy to see him after the Battle at Helm’s Deep?

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It is not easy to traverse the ridges of Middle Earth, day after day; to run along the foothills at the base of Rohan until your feet feel worn almost to the bone. You and your companions have been traveling for days now, with barely enough food, drink, or rest to sustain yourselves. All the same, the weariness barely has time to dust your shoulders before you brush it off again. It is not for you that you fly so, of course, it is for your friends. Merry and Pippin, taken by the Orcs, face odds of survival that dwindle with every second that you waste sitting around and doing nothing.

At last, Aragorn glances up, and, turning his head about sharply, gestures for you, Legolas, and Gimli to take cover behind a rocky outcropping. After a few seconds, you hear it too: the thundering of countless hooves, evidence that you’ll soon not be the only ones in this part of the Riddermark.

Moments after you’re all hidden behind the rocks, you see them at last. Just before Aragorn addresses them, you realize what he must know as well- these aren’t just nameless horsemen, these are the Riders of Rohan. You’ve heard tales of them, but you have no idea what they’d be doing away from their city at a time like this.

They appear to be on edge, though. They do not speak immediately when Aragorn calls to them, instead riding back and circling around you and your traveling companions. You’re hemmed in by circles of hammered wood shields and bristling spears, although you do not feel afraid. You’ve spent enough time hunting orcs and monsters, both during your time as a Ranger and as a part of this Fellowship. Despite their intimidating stares, the Riders of Rohan will not be your worst enemy.

One of them calls out to you at last. “What business does an elf, a man, a woman, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?”

This man seems to be their leader, wearing a helmet of more gilded lines and carvings than those of the other riders. Before you can begin to piece together just who this man is, you hear a voice from beside you, and swallow back your smile.

Gimli, his stance as confident as always, has taken it upon himself to figure out the rider’s identity. “Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Aragorn tilt his head slightly in consternation. You can practically hear him silently pleading with Gimli to hold his tongue for once. The lead rider dismounts from his horse and issues back a threat, causing Legolas to whip out his bow and nock an arrow, all in the time it took you to take a breath. The riders, vexed, point their spears at the four of you. You’ve had plenty of experience being at the sharp end of an angry swordsman’s weapon, and none of it good, so you draw your own weapon in return.

Here is what the Riders of Rohan do not know: you have spent many years in the North as a Ranger, with enough time fighting off monsters to rival even Aragorn’s skill with a blade. So, when you’re able to unfold your sword into your hand with as much grace as a traveling street magician pulling a battered six of diamonds from his sleeve, it causes a bit of a stir amongst the men.

Aragorn, now more than slightly vexed with all three of you, pushes down first Legolas’ bow and then your sword. “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and Y/N of the Northern Rangers.”

He goes on to detail your party’s connection to Theoden, although you’re not entirely sure that the lead Rider is paying attention. Eomer, for of course it is he, has not looked away from you or your sword. He does not look at you with fear for an attack, just a rather intrigued curiosity.

You prefer to watch from the background as Aragorn weaves his spell of politicking and quiet leadership, so you sheathe your sword to force Eomer’s gaze back to your dark-haired friend. Eomer’s eyes watch the silver flash of your blade as it goes, although he seems reluctant as he turns back to Aragorn once more.

Gimli, unable to stop himself, asks after the hobbits and if the Riders have seen them. You can sense that something is wrong even before Eomer shakes his head and murmurs something about having left none of the orcs’ party alive. You could tell it in the hang of his shoulders, the way he looked away as if not wanting to hurt you by the regretful sympathy of his gaze. He had not seen Merry or Pippin when his riders went to war against the orcs, but they could have slaughtered your friends just as quickly. The fact that he does not know exactly who he killed is wrong to him, and it is wrong to you as well.

Out of guilt or perhaps something more honorable, Eomer offers up three horses to aid you on your journey. Before he mounts his horse again, though, he pauses by your side and speaks in a quiet whisper.

“I have not heard your name before, Ranger, so I would not pride myself to know your skill. All the same, I wish you luck. Theoden is not the king he once was.”

There’s a bitterness in his voice as he says these words, and you realize that you may know why the Riders have been caught so far away from home after all.

You repeat a blessing for his travels and mount your own horse, watching as the Riders of Rohan progress down the rolling hills. You have no idea why Eomer seemed so interested in you, or if he was right to doubt Theoden. You can only hope that you will see him again.

As it turns out, Eomer was right to regret what had happened to the king of Rohan. Even after Gandalf arrives to expunge Saruman from the withered king’s heart, Theoden remains a tainted version of history’s golden king of the horsemen. It takes attacks by orcs and wargs to change his mind, and even then, Theoden seems hesitant to commit to an attack. Instead, he orders the people of Rohan to begin a flight to Helm’s Deep.

All the same, a battle will be coming to Rohan regardless of the location of its people. The orcs and Uruk-hai care not for the wishes of men; they arrive nonetheless, with battalions of monsters of slavering jaws and glistening white handprints. The war has arrived at the front gates, and now you must fight it. There is no way around this, even if Theoden would like to believe otherwise.

It is dark and cold when the fighting begins. The rain beats against your metal breastplate, helping to clean the dark blood from your sword even as you plunge it into monster after monster. The front gate falls, then the keep, and then Aragorn calls to your men to ready yourselves for one last ride. So the ramparts of Rohan shall fall- to dawn, to the beginnings of daylight just starting to touch down on the grisly scene.

However, it appears that all is not lost after all. You hear one shout, then another- men have gathered on the far horizon. You recognize Gandalf at the front, and beside him, another familiar rider- Eomer, back with his men. It appears the wizard was able to find him after all. With a fierce cry loud enough to shake even the stones of the keep, the Riders charge.

It’s like watching a relentless tide beat back the sand, the way the men charge down against the orcs and Uruk-hai. At first, you fear for them, certain they’ll impale themselves upon the spears pointing at their very hearts, but the riders rush past the metal shafts as if they are no more than specks of driftwood. You grin in spite of yourself, a yell rising up in your own throat to answer theirs, and plunge yourself back into the fight with renewed vigor.

You have made it your life to hunt orcs and Uruk-hai, to rid Middle Earth of monsters such as these. So, when you are bolstered by such courage by the Riders and by your traveling companions, it is practically child’s play to wheel about and kill monster after monster. The ground may run red for days, but you, you cannot be brought down by something so mortal as an orc’s gnashing jaws.

One charges up to you, broad-bladed sword glinting dully with scarlet, but you easily evade it, thrusting your own weapon down into the chink in its armor between chest and arm.

You look up when you hear a deep laugh, and there he is- Eomer, only a few feet away, starting to lower his sword. “It appears that you are not entirely in need of my help after all.”

You join him in laughter. “All the same, I did appreciate your Riders coming to our aid. We could not have survived long without you.”

Eomer nods once. “And we could not have returned home without you first defending it. Come; let us rid this land of these beasts once and for all.”

You turn your horse so you ride side by side with him, joining the stream of men forcing back the orcs. The wind tugs at your hair, your armor, but you ride forth nonetheless.

At last, it is over- the orcs and Uruk-hai were swallowed up by Fangorn Forest, and ripped to shreds by the trees. Those that managed to survive were quickly dispatched by the remnants of your armies. Now, you stand in the decorated halls of Rohan, celebrating the battle with the soldiers and Riders who had survived the fight. You wander from group to group, sharing tales of particularly thrilling kills and memories of what had happened.

You can’t help but laugh when you spot Legolas and Gimli deeply entrenched in a drinking game. Eomer watches them with a mixture of awe and fascination.

You come to a stop by his side, grinning. “Shall I call a vigil for your cellars?”

Eomer chuckles quietly, not wanting to disturb the two drinkers at their task. “We always enjoy a celebration, but when Theoden declared that we could drink our stores of ale dry, I hadn’t realized that they might be taking him literally.”

Across the table, Legolas stares at his hand. “I feel something. A slight tingling in my fingers.”

You and Eomer exchange glances. “Perhaps your ale stores are safe after all.”

You whisper, watching Gimli at last give in to the temptations of an alcohol-induced slumber.

Eomer raises his eyebrows. “I did not believe this hour would ever truly come.”

You think that you might be tempted to spend the entire night there, exchanging quiet remarks with barely concealed grins, but Eowyn arrives soon enough, pulling you away by your wrist with a quick apology to her brother. You’re not sure that she entirely means it.

All the same, you’re glad to see her. You met Eowyn along with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli when you first met Theoden, and you’ve quickly come to consider her a friend. You knew that she admired your skill with a sword, and you’ve been doing your best to encourage her in taking up her own weapons in defense of her home. So, when Eowyn finally stops to talk in a secluded part of the room, you assume that you’ll be discussing battle tactics and swordplay.

However, when she finally turns back to you, she’s got a rather piercing grin on her face. “You know, you’re getting along fairly well with my brother.”

There’s a slight hint in her voice that you’re not entirely sure you like. “He is a fine soldier, certainly. His Riders saved our lives at the battle at Helm’s Deep.”

Eowyn sighs. “Sure, he can fight. However, he has not been able to force his eyes from your face from the second you walked through that door.”

You give her a look. “That’s absurd.”

Eowyn spreads her hands. “Look for yourself.”

Sighing, you decide to go along with it. You’re certain that she’s reading too much into it, yet when you casually glance Eomer’s way, she’s right- Eomer leans against a stack of barrels, eyes soft and lips slightly upturned as he takes you in. He looks away hastily when he realizes you’ve noticed him, pretending to strike up a conversation with the man next to him, but it’s too late and you’ve already caught him in the act.

Eowyn’s smirk is victorious. “See? What did I tell you?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “I think you’re entirely too proud of yourself. Why don’t we talk about swordsmanship? There are some good parries that we haven’t yet discussed-”

Eowyn cuts you off with a laugh. “You can’t escape me that easily, Y/N. My brother may be keen on you, but I think you feel the same for him.”

You sigh. “What are you getting at, Eowyn?”

She shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Nothing. All I would say is that, if you wished it, my brother would give you his heart if you offered up yours.”

Eowyn takes her leave of you then, disappearing in a swish of skirts and knowing glances. You’re left standing there, staring after her. Could she be right?

The night draws upon you soon enough. Although you are exhausted from the battle, you find you cannot force yourself to sleep, no matter how hard you try. At last, you give up, and quietly retreat from the room of sleeping soldiers, slipping on a cloak and heading out through a set of doors to stand upon a balcony. You have a nice view of the city from here; it unfolds before you like a map. You think that if you tried hard enough, you might be able to make out the smaller flares of lanterns and candles in windows, the restless murmuring of widows and wives from their houses.

A soft knock sounds at the door behind you, and when you turn, you are greeted by a familiar face.

Eomer pauses in the doorway. “Unable to sleep, my lady?”

You shake your head, gesturing for him to follow you out into the night. “I have too many worries to rest, I fear.”

Eomer walks to stand beside you at the balcony, eyes following yours over the landscape. “I know the feeling well.”

After a moment, he turns to you. “We will likely take our battle to Gondor, if Gandalf’s prediction was correct. I hate to risk your life, but-”

You gently raise a hand, stopping his question before he can trouble himself to ask it. “I will fight with you, yes. I would not forgive myself if I retired my sword before such an important battle.”

Eomer smiles, the expression softened by the dark. “I am glad to hear it. I fear I’ve become used to having your sword by my side.”

You incline your head. “Then have no reason to worry about its absence. I will fight until the day I stop drawing breath. There is no rest for the wicked, is there?”

He laughs quietly. “Y/N, if you are wicked, then all men must be drowning in their sins. You are a good person, with a good heart, even if you will not admit it to yourself.”

The pure truth in his words surprises you, and you turn to him. Eomer’s gaze is already upon you, and the stars bedeck themselves in his eyes.

“You are too kind, my lord.” You manage, but there is no easy way out for you, not now.

You’ve already gone too far, but then again, so has he. Eomer raises his hand to take yours. You had not thought the night was that cold, but the press of his fingers against yours sends a quiet warmth flickering through your veins all the same.

When he kisses you, it is slow, and gentle enough that it still takes you by surprise. After a moment, you remember to kiss him back, and feel yourself smile. The battle to come may take you far away from here, it may even take your life from you. All the same, you have this night to keep you safe, and that is enough for you.

lotr/hobbit tag list: i would judge drinking contests with you @underc0vercryptid, @lxncelot

#eomer #eomer imagines #eomer x reader #eomer oneshot #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lotr oneshot #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagines #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings oneshot #lotr eomer #lotr eomer imagines #lotr eomer x reader #lotr eomer oneshot

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 2 years ago

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Of Princes and Witches (Rewrite) Chapter 3- Legolas Greenleaf x OC

Legolas Greenleaf x Alphine Barrowes

Description: After realizing that the south passage is being watched the Fellowship must go through the Pass of Caradhras.

Word Count: 2.2k

Alphine sat on her knees beside the campfire the Fellowship had set up last night after settling down for the night on the Eregion Hills. They’d just finished eating breakfast, and she figured the fire was no longer needed so she opted to extinguish it while Boromir and Aragorn decided it was a good time to teach the Hobbits how to wield a sword. Once she finished the fire she made her way closer to the training session, sitting on a rock close to the open space the trio was using. She watched with mild curiosity as the Man swung his sword at Merry and Pippin, who were attempting to block it with their own designated swords.

“Get away from the blade, Pippin, on your toes,” Boromir instructed. “Good, very good. I want you to react, not think.”

“Should not be too hard,” Sam muttered as he and Frodo sat a few feet away from them, which admittedly made the Witch smile.

“Move your feet,” the Man repeated.

“Quite good Pippin,” Merry complimented once his cousin did as the Man said, earning a thanks from the younger Hobbit. Alphine shook her head amusedly before facing Gimli when she heard him speak.

“If anyone were to ask for my opinion - which I note they have not - I would say we are taking the long way round,” he commented loudly before facing the Wizard. “Gandalf, we can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome.”

“No, Gimli,” Gandalf answered without hesitation, looking grave. “I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice.” The Witch’s brows furrowed in concern at her friend’s sudden attitude change, though she had no time to question him before she heard Pippin gasp in pain followed by Boromir apologizing in a concerned tone. Upon looking over she watched the Hobbit in question throw down his sword and kick Boromir’s shin. The Man grunted in pain but couldn’t even find time to react when Merry and Pippin used his distraction to their advantage to tackle him to the ground.

“Get him!” Yelled Merry as they managed to wrestle him to the ground and jumped on him. Both Boromir and Aragorn laughed aloud at their antics before the latter stood from the rock he sat on, walking over to the trio.

“Gentleman, that’s enough,” he called as he took hold of the Hobbits. Rather than listen to him Merry and Pippin quickly grabbed Aragorn’s legs and threw him back onto the ground as well. That’s what finally got a laugh out of Alphine. She threw her head back as her shoulders shook with laughter at the sight.

“You dare laugh at us?” She suddenly heard Merry exclaim. The Witch faced them just in time to see the two Hobbits running at her full force.

“No!” She cried out between laughter just before Merry and Pippin jumped at her. She opened her arms to catch them but they still managed to knock her over with their impact. The three of them fell into a heap of laughter, though Alphine was quickly distracted when Legolas suddenly jumped on a larger rock beside her. His gaze was intense as he looked at something she couldn’t quite see from her position. Sam apparently could, however, as he stood up and faced the same thing Legolas was looking at.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,” answered Gimli. “It’s just a wisp of clouds.” Alphine looked up at the sky, noticing it was clear. She sat up confused and looked over. It definitely didn’t look like any cloud she’d ever seen, instead it looked like a mass of specs.

“It’s moving fast,” she commented nervously.

“Against the wind,” Boromir added, a sense of urgency in his voice. Legolas, whose vision far surpassed almost all the Fellowship, seemed to realize what they were dealing with because he whipped around to face Aragorn.

“Crebain! From Dudland!”

“Everyone hide,” the Man yelled before running to grab his sword.

Boromir jumped to action and grabbed Merry and Pippin while Gimli and Gandalf took cover behind a rock. The Witch stood as quick as she could before her arm was grabbed. She followed the person blindly as he hid under the elevated rock she’d previously been sitting by. While it offered both of them cover it was still rather small. Her legs still stuck out quite a bit so she had to curl in on herself to make herself smaller. Eventually the person she was with wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him, which successfully got her out of sight of the creatures as they flew over the hills.

She refused to move until the flapping of wings and squawking grew faint. The person’s grip loosened, allowing her to move around as the others emerged from their hiding places, and she glanced behind her. To her surprise, it was Legolas who had pulled her to safety. He barely spared her a glance as he crawled out from under the rock, but then he offered his hand to her once he was standing again. She took it gratefully and stood with his help.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern written all over his face. Alphine offered him a reassuring smile as she nodded.

“Yes. Are you?” Once he was sure that she was okay Legolas nodded, a small smile also on his face.

“Spies of Saruman,” Gandalf suddenly said, which made everyone look at him. “The passage south is being watched.”

“Where do we go, then?” Alphine asked, not missing the distressed expression on Frodo’s face. Gandalf spared her a mere glance before facing the snowy peaked mountains not far from the hills.

“We must take the Pass of Caradhras.”

“Frodo,” Alphine gasped as she watched Frodo slip on some shale in front of her. The Fellowship were making their way up the mountain to get through the Pass of Caradhras. She quickly helped the Hobbit up as he attempted to scramble to his feet. She held him by his shoulders and helped him find his balance.

Once he was standing again he pressed a hand to his chest in an attempt to locate the Ring. Panic struck him as he realized it wasn’t around his neck but both he and Alphine paused when they noticed Boromir lean down and pick something up. It was the Ring, which he now held by its chain. Boromir lifted it to his face so it was eye level, staring at it almost in awe. He didn’t break his transfixation until Aragorn, who at that point had come to stand beside Alphine and Frodo, called his name.

“It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing,” he trailed off absentmindedly. “Such a little thing…”

“Boromir, give the ring to Frodo,” Aragorn instructed him quietly. Out of the corner of her eye Alphine noticed the Man’s hand subtly move to the hilt of his sword, and she silently prepared herself in case something happened. For a moment Boromir did nothing, then an oddly blissful looking smile lit up his face before he snapped out of his trance and handed the Ring back to the Hobbit.

“As you wish. I care not,” he responded simply, ruffling Frodo’s hair before continuing on. Alphine shared an unsure look with Aragorn as he unhanded his sword. He offered her a reassuring nod, which was enough for her to relax. She looked down at Frodo worriedly.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently, earning a nod from the Hobbit along with a thank you for helping him up. Once she was sure he was unharmed she led Frodo on to the mountains along with the rest of the Fellowship. A blizzard was quick to form as they grew closer to the Pass of Caradhras, and it only grew stronger and stronger as they trekked up. Alphine drew her cloak closer to herself to combat the numbness of her nose as the group struggled through the snow and accompanying borderline blinding blizzard. Legolas, who moved lightly across the snow, suddenly paused.

“There is a fell voice in the air,” he informed the others urgently. Alphine’s furrowed in concern, but she had no time to say anything before Gandalf spoke.

“It’s Saruman!” Almost as if on cue thunder rumbled, which caused rock and shale to fall from above.

“He’s trying to bring down the mountain!” Aragorn called with the same urgency (if not more) as Legolas. “Gandalf! We must turn back!”

“No!” The Wizard called back stubbornly before raising his staff. Everyone watched as he began chanting into the wind.

“Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith (Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath),” he spoke loudly, then faced Alphine with an expectant look. The Witch took that as her cue to help, and so she followed his lead and closed her eyes.

“Caradhras, á na rainë. Lye ala in fána Istar aical (Caradhras, be at peace. Let not the White Wizard fell you),” she muttered, though she knew her voice would carry just as Gandalf and Saruman’s did. She felt her magic flow through her as if she were stepping into a warm bath, though it still didn’t seem to be enough. She may have grown powerful over the years, but she was nowhere near Saruman’s level. He was still much more powerful. She heard his voice strengthen, rolling past the Fellowship like that of thunder rumbling.

A lightning crack exploded on the mountainside above them, and the Witch gasped fearfully as a huge avalanche of snow fell towards them. The group threw themselves against the mountain just before snow crashed onto the narrow ledge they stood on, covering all of them in a pile of snow. Alphine was quick to cover Pippin, who she’d been carrying like a child on her hip so they wouldn’t lose him as they trudged through the snow. When the mountain grew still again she emerged from the snow then immediately pulled him out as well.

“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly, earning a nod from the shivering Hobbit as the snowfall picked up once again.

“We must get off the mountain!” Boromir called above the blizzard, making her look back at him. “Make for the gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city!”

“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard,” protested Aragorn.

“We cannot pass over the mountain. Let us go under it,” Gimli offered. “Let us go through the mines of Moria.” A concerned look crossed over the Wizard’s face, but Alphine barely had time to worry about it as she realized the Hobbit she held was practically vibrating with shivers, and she pulled him closer to her in an attempt to warm him up.

“We cannot stay here,” she called worriedly, which caught the other’s attention. “This will be the death of the Hobbits! Someone decide what path to take!” The Gray Wizard was silent for a moment, looking as if a battle waged inside him, before he spoke.

“Let the Ring Bearer decide.” The Witch faced the Hobbit. She watched Frodo glance around at his friends thoughtfully, a weary look on his face, before facing Gandalf when the Wizard called his name in a gentle tone.

“We will go through the mines,” he answered decidedly. Gandalf nodded gravely.

“So be it.”

And so the Fellowship left the mountains and made their way to the mines of Moria. It was night by the time they reached the door. Gandalf carefully reached out and pressed his hand to the large smooth rock the door was embedded in, which caused faint lines of silver light to slowly appear on the stone like slender veins. Alphine watched on in awe.

“Itidin...it mirrors only starlight and moonlight,” Gandalf muttered as ancient letters and symbols appeared in a glow along with the silver lines. Alphine’s brows furrowed as she read the words inscribed. Her Elvish was a bit rusty, but she still remembered quite a bit.

“Ennyn Durin, Aran Moria. Pedo mellon a minno,” she read aloud. “The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.”

“What do you suppose that means?” Asked Merry.

“It’s quite simple,” the Wizard answered. “If you are a friend, speak the password and the doors will open.” It wasn’t as simple as that, however. Gandalf went through several potential passwords but the door remained closed.

“Nothing’s happening,” Pippin muttered to Alphine, stating the obvious. The Wizard seemed to hear him because he huffed and walked up to the door, attempting to push it.

“I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men and Orcs.”

“What’re you going to do then?” The young Hobbit questioned.

“Knock your head against these doors Peregrin Took,” Gandalf snapped, whipping around to face him. “And if that does not shatter them and I'm allowed a little peace from foolish questions I will try to find the opening words!”

Pippin stepped back in surprise and fright, right up against Alphine’s legs. She was quick to place a comforting hand on his shoulder and offer him a reassuring look, which he seemed grateful for. As the Witch faced Gandalf (who had begun muttering spells in various languages) she sighed softly. This was going to be a long night.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #legolas greenleaf #legolas imagine #legolas x oc

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Evil Does Not Sleep

Pairing: Leoglas x Reader Ft. (platonic) Aragorn & Gimli

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of torture.

Summary: The Fellowship was broken. You were stolen amidst a battle and held captive by Saruman within the walls of the Second Tower of Isengard. Now, that you’ve escaped, you finally make it to Helms Deep.

Blood trailed your footsteps onto the grey stone as you walked deeper into the realm of men. You didn’t know them. All you wanted was to find someone you trusted, someone who cared.

Your ragged and ghostly state drew the attention of many and soon, the whispers grew. You didn’t know what you would find at Helms Deep. You heard Saruman speak of destroying it and that Aragorn was present which quickly became the hope that you clung on to.

You didn’t realise that your thoughts had brought your legs to the Keep of the mountain fort. You half-expected the doors to fly open, but you did not look like yourself and were questioned by the guards.

“What business do you have with the King?”

Looking at the men, you stared at the one who spoke, almost forgetting that you had a voice.

“(Y/n).” You whispered, feeling the painful scratch from your dried-up throat. “Gandalf’s apprentice.”

The men’s eyes widened and they clamoured over one another, rushing to open the door and let you pass.

Warmth from the room hit your exposed skin like a furnace, the step onto the smooth ground pricked your bare and sensitive feet. You felt more pain in your body in the King’s hold than you did running through the forest.

You saw King Theoden at the very centre of the room, drawing close with each breath. Then you started to notice more familiar figures to his side. A stout red-bearded dwarf and a man with a firm and regal posture. The dwarf was the first to notice the additional person and you saw the colour drain from his face.

“Bless my beard.” He exclaimed, prompting the man to his side to turn. Aragorn felt his blood run cold at the sight too. He knew of the evil of Saruman but never had he thought to see it being inflicted on someone he regarded like family.

Taking a step forward, Aragorn whispered your name but his voice was quickly drowned by a third voice - a much louder one.

“(Y/n).” The sound of swords clattering to the ground filled the air from behind the King.

Your attention was pulled to Legolas Greenleaf and you froze entirely. He abandoned the weapons at his feet and ran over as fast as his feet could take him. He dared not wait to place a hand over your cheek and one over your waist gently. His eyes filled with love and fear and anger.

“What have they done to you?” He asked. You wanted to speak - to explain - but seeing three people that you cared for proved to be too much. Emotional and physical pain overwhelmed your senses and you fell forward, clutching onto the elf as a quiet sob escaped your lips.

All you wanted was to close your eyes and rest in his arms, safe and away from the war. Legolas was the same. He had been parted from you for too long. He wanted to take you away from the impending battle on Men. In his thoughts, he had not realised that Eowyn had been called upon to take you to be cleaned up.

“My Lord?” She requested. Legolas squeezed gently around your shoulders before relinquishing his hold. As reluctant as he was, he knew that you needed to heel before the darkness approached their doorstep. Very carefully, he helped Eowyn take hold of the wizards apprentice and as just like that, you were taken from him again.

Eowyn helped you bathe and dress, growing worrisome when she saw the scars on your body. Bruises littered your skin while stab wounds were held together with thick staples. Eowyn did not speak of it, instead she led you to an empty room and let you sleep for an hour.

You woke with a startle.

You didn’t remember when you had been placed in a bed, nor did you remember how long you had been asleep. Slowly, you sat up and pulled the covers off. Looking around, you found some clothes laying in wait for you. Carefully, you dressed yourself and walked over to the door, pushing it open.

The sound of metal filled your nose and goosebumps trailed up your skin. You recognised the uneasy feeling - war. Helms Deep was on the brink of a battle.

Turning a corner, you walked past several soldiers who rushed by with swords, shields and spears. Fear started to creep into your muscles at the thought of another battle - you barely survived your last one.

Slam! A body smacked straight into yours as you rounded a second corner.

Stepping back, you shook your head and blinked the stars away when the other person placed their hands on your shoulders.

“You’re awake.” They said. Looking up, you found yourself staring at Aragorn. He looked exhausted and battle worn. “How are you?” He asked.

You glanced around the corridor and at the mess that had become of the Men.

“I don’t know... what’s going on?”

Aragorn took in a deep breath and seemed conflicted on whether to tell you the truth. Placing a hand over your back, he guided you outside onto the fort. The rabble outside was far worse than what you saw within the Keep walls. Old men and young boys were being shown their defence positions by soldiers, catapults were being pushed into place, women and children were being ushered off the lower levels. They were preparing for a siege.

Aragorn led you to the top of the wall where you could see beyond the stone.

“Saruman plans to attack.” He explained. “We are preparing a defence to hold them back but they will be upon us by nightfall.”

You placed your hands on the cold, rough stone and closed your eyes.

“Where do I stand?” You asked. A second pair of footsteps joined them and you felt his Elven aura radiate.

“You need to join the women and children in the mines.” Legolas said, his voice quiet and serious.

You opened your eyes and turned to the Woodland Prince and Aragorn - if they thought that you would sit on the sidelines, they were mistaken.

“I won’t.” you defied. “You need me out here while help is in short supply.”

“(Y/n), you’ve barely rested upon your return. Your wounds have not healed.” Legolas had strong arguments - valid points too - but you could not stand by idly while Saruman destroyed lives again.

“I have been at the mercy of evil for too long. Let me turn the tables. I have strength enough for this.”

Legolas frowned and looked to Aragorn for some back up but the rightful king of Gondor bowed his head in respect.

“You are the maker of your own decisions. I trust that you understand the toll this will take on you.”

“I understand. Trust me, the Uruk-hai from Isengard will not see tomorrow’s sunrise.”

Aragorn could say no more on your choice and patted your arm gently before taking his leave. You turned to the Woodland prince and saw that he had not taken his gaze away from you. “Legolas, I’m fine.”

“I heard Lady Eowyn describe your wounds to the court. (Y/n), you were barely held alive with those Orc staples.”

“I did what I had to then and I shall do so again now.” You replied, looking out at the soon-to-be battleground.

“But-”

“Evil does not sleep and nor will I.”

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