#Time to pull a Pippin

[elevensiesexpert]

Gandalf always walking at the back of the Fellowship, ensuring no one is left behind—even if it means listening to Pippin’s endless chatter. (Which he secretly enjoys)

Gandalf making sure Frodo never feels truly alone, offering quiet wisdom when the burden grows too heavy.

Gandalf lighting his staff just a little brighter when he sees fear in the hobbits’ eyes, pretending it’s nothing more than practicality.

Gandalf exchanging knowing glances with Aragorn, a silent understanding passing between them in moments of uncertainty.

Gandalf subtly guiding Boromir away when he sees the Ring’s pull growing stronger, giving him a chance to steady himself.

Gandalf answering Sam’s curious questions about old stories, always taking the time to nurture his wonder.

Gandalf shaking his head fondly when Legolas and Gimli bicker, but letting them be—knowing that bonds are often forged in fire.

Gandalf rolling his eyes at Merry and Pippin’s antics but never truly stopping them, knowing that laughter is as necessary as a sword.

Gandalf pausing on long journeys to let the Fellowship rest, disguising his concern as “simply needing a moment to think.”

Gandalf proving, time and time again, that he is more than just a wizard—he is a guide, a guardian, and a light in the darkness.

[humunanunga]

So here's what I think it means: Ramb was most likely talking about Noelle, right? She'd be on the right with the laptop, maybe playing Cat Petters, while Kris was on the left, maybe using the cards and dice to learn parlor tricks (if web searches wouldn't pull up results for teaching humans magic, they might've still been interested in learning sleight-of-hand).

And I think that explains what happened to Spamton.

Tenna doesn't recognize him anymore because they knew each other back when Spamton was a [[BIG SHOT]] in a matching red suit. He might've even had his own commercials on Tenna's screen, but this was also when he resided in Queen's mansion alongside Swatch. (And if this was when the King and Queen met, then it's also when Spamton would've met Jevil.)

Meaning... Spamton's calls with his mysterious benefactor could've been through the landline. Especially if they were still on dial-up internet back then. They stopped because Noelle stopped coming over with the laptop.

And as for Tenna... the dates 12/25 (Christmas Day) and 2/13 (Valentine's Eve) prominently show up, and Kris' implied aversion to watching TV might've been because it was always shoving the tragedy in their face. But it's still unclear whether Tenna knows Dess was never found, or if he was trying to focus on better times, or if he really was trying to push Kris' buttons; but he should at least know she's gone. Dess was the mayor's daughter, after all. If she went missing, it would've been all over the news.

And that could've been why Asgore was removed from the force. He wouldn't let it go, so Carol made him. And if Chapter 4 says anything, he's still investigating in secret– and suspicious of her. And maybe she's just a coldhearted ass who got tired of her public image revolving around an unsolved case instead of her success as town mayor. But she's definitely sus as fuck.

Back to Ramb, though: I think him petrifying establishes what generally makes a Darkner "belong." Darkners are animated objects, and maybe he was simply an overdue loan like the tutorial for drawing dragons, but Ramb was library property regardless. That one Zapper might've been for Asgore' TV all along, since he seems to have the same kind at the flower shop, and his remote could've been borrowed or mixed up.

Meanwhile, the Pippins were safe because they were... that property's property. The Rudinns, according to one, were from Kris' deck, explaining why Lancer and Rouxls were unaffected.

What it doesn't explain is Chapter 4 (which so far is likely more to do with the two Dark Worlds being treated as flipsides) or why the classroom Darkners don't seem to recognize Kris, but maybe the latter's for gender reasons. If Ralsei is an outdated sona, then Kris at least used to present as a boy like the brother they wished to be more like, and the Card Kingdom simply wasn't there to witness Kris' transition. Or maybe those Darkners forgot the Lightners just like the Lightners forgot them, but... speaking of Dark Worlds...

...belonging. The storage closet is an ideal place for a Dark Fountain because anything could belong in a place like public storage.

And maybe that's why Ralsei was put there in the first place. Safekeeping.

Darkners in Castle Town are safe from the Player. We can harm Darkners and even Lightners in other worlds, but not this one. We're not given the option. That's how Ralsei's been kept safe all this time. Chapters 3&4 give us opportunities to hurt his feelings, which Kris will resist, but he can't be damaged or killed through Kris.

Maybe not just Ralsei either. Kris' side of the room, or at least the side they sleep on, is empty... and noticably desaturated like the door to Dess' room... and their locker is also empty. The locker could be due to their implied absence, but it could also be because they knew a Player would come (or come back) and they didn't want to give us access to anything of theirs that they wanted left untouched.

It's been speculated since Chapter 1, I've been coming back to the possibility that this isn't Kris' first time being under a Player's control. We don't know how we seized Kris' body or why, or if we're the first; even if we are, though, there's a chance Kris knew to expect us. And so they prepared accordingly while they still had bodily autonomy.

Might post another ramble after I finish my Chapter 3&4 replay, now that I have save files with Dealmaker, Jevilstail and the original Starwalker again.

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 2.9k (each individual around 180~ words) | Read on ao3

TWS : Mentions of death (Aragorn), choice of mortality (Lindir & Elrohir)

« 1, 12, 13, 14, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ Of course, Aragorn cannot let you meet his actual parents - not if he’s never known them that well himself - but he can introduce you to the people he calls family.

✧ Although he does not end up asking either of his brothers for advice, they know about his crush before he ends up confessing to you.

✧ Elrohir finds it lovely that their Estel has found someone, and you seem a perfect match for him, and Elladan is also happy for his younger brother.

✧ In fact, Elrohir does try to speed up the process, flirting with you in a joking manner. It isn't entirely helpful but still makes him laugh when he sees Aragorn there with you - trying to decide between not intervening and being protective, instead just hovering over you and attending to your needs.

✧ Merry and Pippin still end up being the ones to have definitive proof of your relationship, although Elrohir is quick to pop up and establish the rumour as truth.

✧ Aragorn can tell something is going on the second he sees his foster brother come over to him with a too-wide grin, before pulling him into a hug. “So, you and them, hmm?”

✧ One wholly mature push and conversation later, and you walk in just in time to see the two give a scowl before Elrohir announces that he wishes your relationship well.

✧ Apologising for him, Aragorn says he hopes that slightly eccentric in-laws will not put you off anything, and you confirm it won’t.

✧ It’s much more unnerving to be in front of the Lord of Rivendell with your relationship, but it’s also surprisingly painless. It also helps that Aragorn is holding your hand the entire time.

✧ (Aragorn does tell his parents about you, in a way. Speaking to his mothers grave about you - the traits he loves about you, the way you make him smile. He knows you will never meet, but something in his heart feels they have approved.)

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Unfortunately, Legolas is the only one who’s family is actually disapproving of you.

✧ It isn’t entirely personal, Thranduil would look critically upon any who would want to court his son, but the fact that you are human certainly does not help.

✧ The fact that when you come to tell him rumours have already reached do not help.

✧ “So, you are trying to be the Beren of this age?” Thranduil’s voice is cold as you bow to him, “Yet you seem to be even less worthy than him.”

✧ Before the words fully sink in Legolas goes to your defence. You supposed he would go to your involvement in the Fellowship, but he does not. Instead he defends his love for you.

✧ Not for your deeds or previous actions, but the way you make him feel. That no-one else could make him smile like you do, or give the light to his days in the same manner. You are the one his heart has chosen.

✧ You can feel your face heating up throughout the speech, already embarrassed from the scrutiny.

✧ But when Thranduil’s gaze comes upon you again, it seems less judging. “Tell me, do you truly love my son?”

✧ The question takes you by surprise, but you confirm your answer. That of course you do.

✧ There’s another second of silence before he meets your gaze. “You will treat him well.”

✧ Eventually, Thranduil does warm to you - taking care of you, and making sure your needs are met. It’s mostly a subtle way of caring, but once you know it’s obvious.

✧ A few heirlooms of the woodland realm will become yours as well.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ As an opposite, Bilbo is probably one of the biggest supporters of your relationship.

✧ Although he didn’t mean to start it when he invited you to dinner all that time ago, he certainly doesn’t discourage any of your relationship.

✧ Almost as soon as you’re arrived the stars appear in his nephew's eyes, and he’s left to laugh at the wonder of young love.

✧ Not-so-subtly gives Frodo advice about what to do, how he’s seen you looking at flowers recently - and they do look lovely at this time. Maybe they’d make a good gift?

✧ Has also slipped away for a meal or two, eating in the pantry, so the two of you could be left alone.

✧ Of course he denies this, if asked.

✧ After Frodo confesses you actually ask his permission to court Frodo, to which he looks between the two of you and laughs.

✧ “Only a complete fool wouldn’t see what the two of you have together. It is far beyond me to separate two in love.”

✧ (Frodo also apologises about having the Sackville-Baggins as eventual relatives, with surprising sincerity. At least the two of you can suffer together.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ All of Sam’s family (all eight of them) are very supportive of your relationship.

✧ Surprisingly, he’s the first of them to find a partner - and so they all make a big deal of it.

✧ There’s also a fair bit of teasing, and Sam is one of the youngest of the family.

✧ They’re all of the opinion you’re a perfect match - and if he’s happy, they’re happy.

✧ After they come around Sam apologises if they were a bit too much.

✧ “They don’t mean to frighten you off, love. They’re just excited. I’ve told them about how much I love you, and I think they’re simply happy with how happy you’ve made me.”

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Warns you that he’s an only child, and as such his parents are quite… enthusiastic.

✧ “If you ever get too overwhelmed, just tap me. I’ll scream, create a distraction, and you escape in the commotion.”

✧ Despite the big deal Merry makes it everything goes very well.

✧ They’re both very friendly, but Merry is happy to take the brunt of the questioning if needed - as well as always taking the pressure off you.

✧ Both Saradoc and Esmeralda express how happy they are that Merry is finally growing up and finding someone, how you’ve given him that much needed maturity, and-

✧ Merry is quick to interrupt them, but he can’t quite hide the blush that's appeared on his face.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ When you finally start to return to the Shire, Pippin isn’t sure what will be harder to explain. The fact he’s been missing for around a year and can’t really speak about it, or the fact he’s courting an elf.

✧ He tries to reassure you by talking about the line of Took’s that he already comes from - how people are pretty sure there’s some fairy, or at least that’s how rumours go, so they really shouldn’t be too surprised by an elf.

✧ Very proud to introduce you to his parents and his siblings, practically singing your praises the entire time.

✧ They are at first… bemused. It’s not everyday you see an elf, let alone when your youngest son brings home an elf and declares a courtship.

✧ Still, the Tooks are very welcoming to you - and so happy that the two of you are together.

✧ (“Of course you’d end up going for an elf, Peregrin.”)

✧ They do tease him. Quite a lot. But it’s also clear it’s in good faith.

✧ Constantly apologising for the fact you have to stoop, and you have to keep reassuring them that it’s expected hobbit architecture isn’t built with you in mind.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ As essentially Faramir’s second-in-command, Faramir is of course very approving of your relationship.

✧ Sometimes jokes that it’s all secretly a plot from the two of you for the rangers to gain more military influence.

✧ It makes the three of you laugh, although sometimes both of you will say it with slightly too deadpan a look. And then there’s a silence as the three of you stare for a second.

✧ (This also makes Faramir one of the best people to ask for advice. And eventually Boromir allows himself to get advice from his younger brother, even if it’s just your favourite flower.)

✧ Denethor is a little more awkward to convince.

✧ You’d met the Steward twice, both in military meetings staunchly on Faramir’s side, and the relationship can be described as frosty at best.

✧ After you are formally introduced as Boromir’s partner the Steward asks to speak to his eldest son alone, to which Boromir refuses.

✧ Stating that he is glad his father cares about him, but he will not listen to advice on the matter of his heart.

✧ That he knows who he loves - and that person is you.

✧ And even his Lord cannot command his heart.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Boromir is very supportive of the two of you. Not quite aggressively supportive, but absolutely ready to defend either of you and your honour.

✧ When Faramir says he’s dating you he doesn’t miss the way his older brother’s eyes light up, proclaiming that he’s proud of him - and he’d like to meet you.

✧ When you finally need to be introduced to Denethor, both of the brothers are by your side.

✧ Your hand is in Faramir’s - although you aren’t sure which of the two of you is gripping the other harder.

✧ To your surprise Denethor accepts the two of you courting rather quickly, expressing he is glad that Faramir has been able to find someone.

✧ You hear the subtext under it, but keep your tongue. And then immediately comment on it once the two of you are gone.

✧ Faramir is just happy it went well, and implores you not be too discouraged. That his father could forbid him from seeing you again and he still would.

✧ That your love means much more to him than so many things in this world, least of all his father’s approval.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Éomer and Théoden both notice Éowyn’s feelings for you before she does. They watch it fade from Aragorn, and then come back even stronger with you.

✧ And this time they get to watch you fall in love with her as well. 

✧ If she had been aware of her feelings, Éomer probably would have teased her about it - but he wants to wait until she has realised.

✧ That time comes when he sees her with your sword a second time, his gaze looking downwards and then looking up to his sister. “It is fine steel. And a finer choice.”

✧ She tries to deny it, but he laughs - attempting to ruffle her hair - saying he approves, and that if anything happens he’ll defend her honour.

✧ Éowyn simply responds that she trusts you’d never do something like that. And even if she did, she could defend her honour by herself.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ Éowyn takes the crown for the most supportive family member, setting the two of you up on your first date.

✧ When Éomer finally takes you home after it, he can’t take his eyes off you. It is only once you finally leave then he becomes aware of eyes on him.

✧ Turning around, Éomer realises that his sister is staring at him with a knowing grin. She gives a small curtsey to him, “You’re welcome, brother.”

✧ The statement makes him laugh, but he does sincerely thank her.

✧ Because without her interference - he would not have you.

✧ Meeting Éowyn the next day she shares a grin with you, saying that she hopes you and Éomer will enjoy your time together. And that she truly thinks you are a good match, a match that will both survive but also go far.

✧ Éomer does inform his uncle of you - asking for permission for your courting - and this is given freely by Théoden.

✧ The next time you see your king he congratulates you on your courting. It is a small gesture but it seems to be genuine, head dipped in respect and appreciation.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ All of Bard’s kids love you - and all of them knew before he did (although Tilda didn’t truly understand what the interest between you means).

✧ Sigrid is the most supportive - she respects you for the job you do, thinks you’re fairly cool, and also feels slightly bad that the first time you met she got you in jail.

✧ She’s probably the one who interacts with you least, but it just comes from her being older.

✧ Although she and Bain still love to tease Bard.

✧ It gets better, but the first few times that Bard is romantic with you - and the kids are within eyeshot - they’ll either fake wretches or whistling. He always laughs them off, and then grin before asking the two of you to get a room.

✧ Bain and Tilda both like you a lot, and are more willing to spend time with you - although Bain asks more nicely.

✧ Bard does make it clear you have no responsibilities to them, but you assure him it’s fine. After all the kids are respectful, and never too overwhelming when you do spend time with them.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Legolas is still too young to fully understand what’s going on when the two of you first get together, so you try not to be too romantic in front of him.

✧ He also doesn’t really understand the concept of you wanting to keep it secret, so will do things like tugging on his fathers robes and asking why Ada’s been staring at you all day instead of him.

✧ At first it makes you laugh, especially to finally see the elvenking flustered, although it gets less funny when he does it to you.

✧ Overall, Legolas is more than happy to accept you into the family - even if he gets confused at times.

✧ Thranduil also stresses that he doesn’t expect you to deal with Legolas, but makes it clear he will be a father for his son.

✧ You always reassure him that you love the both of them - and you certainly wouldn’t leave Thranduil over this.

✧ As he grows up and understands Legolas is just as supportive, although this time he actually realises what he’s supporting.

✧ Revels in the fact he’s the only one who can truly tease Thranduil about his love for you.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Like most elven families would be, they’re more than a bit cynical when they discover that their child is courting a mortal human.

✧ However, they’re much more accepting than you would have mentioned.

✧ In fact - Lindir is almost more nervous than you are.

✧ You can so clearly tell he wants everything to go well, and it’s honestly adorable.

✧ When he finally introduces you to each other you can see the hope and nerves in his eyes, and watch it slowly melt away as you all begin to get to know each other.

✧ Afterwards, you ask why he was so nervous and he confesses he doesn’t know.

✧ “I suppose, I simply wanted the most important things to like each other. Almost as much as I love you.”

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Both of Haldir’s brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, are with him when you first meet him. And both have rather mixed opinions about your first impressions.

✧ Rúmil is, understandably, frosty about the first thing you did when you saw his brother was to almost shoot him. Orophin is, understandably, amused about the fact that’s the first thing you did.

✧ Eventually, once he’s been around you enough and you’ve continued to apologise, Rúmil forgives you - and the two of you get on better terms.

✧ When the Fellowship finally leaves Lothlórien you’re on good terms with them, and they’re sad to see you go.

✧ They’re also the first to see Haldir pining over you, and recognise it.

✧ When you finally go back to Lothlórien they’re quick to congratulate you - before you even say.

✧ Seeing your confusion they simply laugh, before exchanging a glance from you to Haldir.

✧ “Everyone can see his eyes light up when he looks at you.”

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ Long ago, it was Elrond who had introduced the two of you - although his foresight hadn’t quite foreseen what the two of you would become.

✧ He does quickly, however, see the way his son lights up when he sees you. That the otherwise introverted Elladan would rise from his seat to greet you with a wide smile, the two of you instantly starting to talk for hours on end.

✧ Elrond is in no way surprised the two of you finally realised your feelings for each other, he’s just surprised it took you this long.

✧ Elrohir - knowing the two of you - is not surprised that it takes the two of you so long to confess to each other.

✧ It is a fact that makes him both laugh and want to claw his eyes out. Everyone except the two of you can so clearly see your love for each other.

✧ Pushing the two of you into a cupboard is one of his more genius ideas, so of course he’s not at all surprised it works. At all.

✧ (The whistle that comes with the two of you emerging from there together definitely isn’t him, either.)

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ You actually end up approaching Elladan before his twin confesses to you, although you are seeking his advice about love.

✧ Privately, Elladan finds it (darkly) amusing that both of his siblings have fallen deeply in love with Gondorian nobles.

✧ (This is a sentiment shared by all his siblings, that they try very hard to keep from their father.)

✧ He’s good in answering your questions, and reassures him that Elrohir’s not actually this annoying - only somewhat - and he’s simply pining over you.

✧ Aragorn very much approves of your relationship, and he’s a helpful friend in accepting Elrohir’s choice of mortality. There’s a quiet companionship between the two of you, and he’s finally found someone to share his worries with.

✧ Despite what he wants to feel, Elrond can see you’re the perfect one for his son.

✧ And after spending so long fighting it with Arwen, he is more ready to accept it with you.

✧ You still remember seeing the light in Elrohir’s eyes as he comes running up to you, eyes shining with a smile.

✧ “I told you he’d have to accept you! I knew our love was going to be that obvious.”

✧ (Also holds this victory above Arwen’s head for a little too long.)

A/N : Sorry for this being late... hopefully it was still enjoyable! To make up for the lack of romance next one shall be their first 'I love you' - so look forward to it. Also thank you so much for passing 200 followers! When I first made this I didn't think I would even get fifty, so seriously thank you all! Love you guys <3

« first scenario, previous scenario, next scenario, masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @ferns-fics /  @fleurdemiel-145 / @chewgazellechew / @nilintakan / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 / @wordbunch / @killermarionette ✧ wish to be tagged?

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tales from Middle-Earth: Preferences - First Kiss Moments

Chapter 3: First Kiss Moments

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

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

~~~

Aragorn;

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

~~~

Arwen;

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

~~~

Boromir;

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

~~~

Elrond:

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

~~~

Éowyn;

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

~~~

Éomer;

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

~~~

Faramir;

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

~~~

Frodo;

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

~~~

Gimli;

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

~~~

Haldir;

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

~~~

Legolas;

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

~~~

Merry;

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

~~~

Pippin;

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

~~~

Sam;

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

~~~

Taglist Is Open;

@verynormalsstuff

~~~

Tales From Middle-Earth Masterlist

Preference: What To Know Post

[balrogballs]

who from lotr most needs therapy and who would actually go to therapy 😇

LOTR Therapy Reactions:

Frodo: is a little bit reluctant at first and feels like he’s “taking away resources from people who need them more” a bit, but learns that he needs them just as much, not to compare himself to others, and settles down well.

Elrond: motherfucker tries to mansplain therapy techniques to the therapist in the first session, spends the entirety of the second session crying hysterically, and from that moment on is a total therapy nerd. he literally decorates his CBT notebooks. asks if he can get extra points for turning his worksheets early. literally treats his final session like he’s fucking graduating college and makes everyone attend in formalwear.

Pippin: argues with the therapist, who quickly wises up to his bantering ways and essentially starts doing talk-therapy masqueraded as an improv-comedy session. weirdly enough, it works, and he reports feeling much better.

Thranduil: books 10 sessions, doesn’t even go to the first one, and instead of asking for a refund, just straight up files a chargeback on his AMEX

Maedhros: sends Google hate mail every time it dares to show him an advert to a therapy service, which is a vicious cycle because he keeps Googling “how to prove therapy is a capitalist scam” and “cure panic attack reddit” and “cancel nightmare subscription”

Legolas and Gimli: wandered in by accident thinking it was a Starbucks, has no clue what therapy is, and genuinely just assume they’re gossiping with a strangely professional barista. they have been attending for the last 20 years and as a result have outstanding mental health

Fëanor: someone suggests a therapist to him after the third time he set his microwave on fire after it melted his cheese too much. he looks up said therapist, reports them to the registered psychologist regulatory body for no reason, and pulls political strings to ensure they lose their practice license. he has never met this person.

Bilbo Baggins: therapist drops him in 3 weeks with “yeah you’re fine move on” because he makes her cry every session. not because his mental health mind you but because he keeps being subtly mean about her fashion choices and room decorations.

Celegorm: banned from therapy centre before his first session for barking like a dog when the receptionist asked for his health insurance number.

[pretty-hills-i-die-on]

Fellowship Shenanigans

History Lesson Pt 1

They are in Rivendell, the Hobbit’s relentless questions about events mentioned in songs, and stories enshrined in tapestry, iconography and the Elves themselves, have led Aragorn to give in, sit down and talk them through a brief history of Middle Earth.

Aragorn: And so the sons of Feanor made an oath-

Pippin: Terrible idea.

Elrond, passing by and overhearing: You have no idea.

Aragorn: Please don’t distract them.

Elrond: What are you doing?

Aragorn: The Hobbits asked for a history lesson.

Pippin: We did not! I just asked-

Aragorn: Who every single person here was and what all the songs and tapestries mean, that’s a history lesson.

Merry, pointing at a star on a banner near Elrond’s head: What’s that?

Elrond looks around.

Elrond: That’s the star of Feanor.

Aragorn: Here we go again.

Sam: Wasn’t he the bad guy?

Pippin: Why do you have his star on your wall?

Elrond, smiling and sitting down: Well, that’s a long story, actually-

Aragorn: -And one that we will get to later, because-

Elrond: -You see, my brother and I were raised by two sons of Feanor.

The Hobbits: WHAT?!?

Aragorn: Aaand there goes the continuity.

Merry, to Elrond: Which ones!?

Elrond: Maglor and Maedhros.

Frodo: Are they here?

Elrond: No, I’m afraid not. See-

Merry: I thought your father was a star?

Frodo: Yeah, Bilbo did a whole song about it!

Elrond: A very nice song, but Bilbo did take some- poetic licence.

Aragorn: I'm pretty sure Glorfindel busted a rib trying not to laugh.

Elrond: The Star of Earendil is not my father, it is what became of the Silmaril in his possession once he returned to Valinor.

Merry: What?! How did he get his hands on a Silmaril?

Glorfindel, passing by: True love and a big dog.

Aragorn: Pretty much, yeah.

Pippin: You do understand that that’s no context at all?

Aragorn: Do you remember the song about Luthien and Beren?

Pippin: I fell asleep.

Aragorn: Of course you did. Luthien and Beren were Earendil’s ancestors.

Aragorn proceeds to tell the story of Luthien and Beren, Glorfindel occasionally interrupts with comments that make it amply obvious that he was there.

Aragorn: -And so the Silmaril passed to Earendil and his wife, Elwing.

Elrond: My parents.

The Hobbits: Woah!

The Hobbits are utterly in awe, even more so than before. Glorfindel is amused.

Glorfindel, to Aragorn: Giving them a history lesson?

Aragorn: To the best of my ability.

Glorfindel: Have you gotten up to my bit yet?

Aragorn: If by “your bit” you mean-

Glorfindel: Yep.

Aragorn: No, not yet.

Glorfindel, to the Hobbits: Spoiler alert, I die.

Aragorn: Thanks mate.

Pippin: What?!

Merry: You can’t have died!

Frodo: You’re pulling our leg.

Pippin reaches out and pokes Glorfindel’s arm, it’s solid.

Pippin: You’re not a ghost.

Glorfindel: Not last time I checked, no.

Sam: I told you they were magic.

Elrond, to Aragorn: Have you told them about reincarnation?

Aragorn: Well it seems I’m about to.

Aragorn looks to Glorfindel.

Aragorn: Care to speak from experience?

Glorfindel: You seem to be doing just fine.

Aragorn: Fantastic.

Elrond: Now you know what it was like teaching you.

Sam: What?!

Aragorn: We’ll get to that later, remind me. Anyway, in Valinor-

He explains reincarnation, Glorfindel continues to interrupt now and then.

Aragorn: -And they can walk on Middle Earth once more.

Frodo: But how-

Glorfindel: Don’t overthink it. Trust me.

Merry, to Glorfindel: You’re practically a God.

Glorfindel: Oh no, if anyone it it’s Elrond, he’s got the Maia blood in him.

Elrond: Thrice great-grandmother hardly makes me a God.

Glorfindel: True, but killing a Balrog doesn’t make you one either.

Pippin: WHAT!?

Merry: What’s a Balrog?

Frodo: Did you grow up here, Strider?

Glorfindel: Yep, he did, his father too.

Arwen, walking over: What’s going on here?

Aragorn: Anarchy.

Merry: A history lesson.

Arwen: I see.

Pippin: Lady Arwen, do you look like Luthien?

Arwen: That is hardly for me to say.

Glorfindel: You’re the spitting image of her, Arwen, trust me.

Arwen: Thank you. *to Aragorn* Have you gotten to the rise of Numenor yet?

Aragorn: I’ve been trying to for the last hour.

Glorfindel, to the Hobbits: If you want to know about Maia, go and ask Gandalf.

Aragorn: Glorfindel, for the love of Manwe-

[prettyboypistol]

What Makes the Fellowship Jealous(lighthearted)

Frodo

He's green with envy when you give presents to other people- not like, birthday presents or obligatory things- but like "i saw this and thought of you" presents. Although, he always feels better when you peck him on the lips- that's his personal gift.

Samwise

Not too fond of other men buying your drinks for you, if he's honest. You're a fantastic looking human, but still! Samwise would have half a mind to kiss you right there and then! Although, that scenario gives him the opportunity to flirt with you like it's the first time meeting you!

Merry

He's jealous of stuffed animals/sentimental objects you have/ Be it your childhood teddybear or a cracked teapot you felt bad for and brought home, you should be doting on him, dammit! You think it's adorable and love to cuddle him out of his childish feelings. He constantly mumbles how "his spot" (your embrace) is "always being taken".

Pippin

When you're affectionate with other people! Be it a friendly hug goodbye or a drunken dance together, Pippin is a rather jealous man who gets envious and possessive of you often- but he can't help it! He's literally baby and he can do no wrong (i have a favorite and he is it). That's why he kisses all over your face when you're near him!!!

Boromir

It rubs him the wrong way when you dress up for other people or stress about making good impressions for non-authority figures. Like, why are you so fixated on what they think of you? Nevertheless, he kisses those anxious thoughts away and steals you out of that outfit.

Aragorn

When you kiss up to authority- it makes him so unbelievably jealous. He hates that he feels that way- since you're only being respectful- but he secretly wants to be praised and revered like that by you! All you gotta do to make him feel better though is kiss his cheek and call him your king.

Legolas

Same as Frodo- he gets extremely jealous when you give gifts to other people. Call him spoiled, but he wants to be showered in gifts too!!! He tries to one-up you by giving you lavish gifts afterwards and feels on top of the world when you gush about his gifts.

Gimli

Dancing with other people or letting other people touch you- he's got a real jealous streak when people nonchalantly pull stray leaves from your hair. But as long as you let him braid pretty courting braids all into your hair, he feels much better.

[physalian]

Pacing your Story (Or, How to Avoid the "Suddenly...!")

Arguably *the* most important lesson all writers need to learn, even for those who don’t give a damn about themes and motifs and a moral soap box: How your story is paced, whether it’s a comic book, a children’s chapter book, a doorstopper, a mini series, a movie, or a full-length season of TV (old school style), pacing is everything.

Pacing determines how long the story *feels* regardless of how long it actually is. It can make a 2 hour movie feel like 90 mins or double the time you’re trapped in your seat.

There’s very little I can say about pacing that hasn’t been said before, but I’m here to condense all that’s out there into a less intimidating mouthful to chew.

So: What is pacing?

Pacing is how a story flows, how quickly or slowly the creator moves through and between scenes, how long they spend on setting, narration, conversation, arguments, internal monologues, fight scenes, journey scenes. It’s also how smoothly tone transitions throughout the story. A fantasy adventure jumping around sporadically between meandering boredom, high-octane combat, humor, grief, and romance is exhausting to read, no matter how much effort you put into your characters.

Anyone who says the following is wrong:

Good pacing is always fast/bad pacing is always slow

Pacing means you are 100% consistent throughout the entire story

It doesn’t matter as much so long as you have a compelling story/characters/lore/etc

Now let me explain why in conveniently numbered points:

1. Pacing is not about consistency, it’s about giving the right amount of time to the right pieces of your story

This is not intuitive and it takes a long time to learn. So let’s look at some examples:

Lord of the Rings: The movies trimmed a *lot* from the books that just weren’t adaptable to screen, namely all the tedious details and quite a bit of the worldbuilding that wasn’t critical to the journey of the Fellowship. That said, with some exceptions, the battles are as long as they need to be, along with every monologue, every battle speech. When Helm’s Deep is raging on, we cut away to Merry and Pippin with the Ents to let ourselves breathe, then dive right back in just before it gets boring.

The Hobbit Trilogy: The exact opposite from LotR, stretching one kids book into 3 massive films, stuffing it full of filler, meandering side quests, pointless exposition, drawing out battles and conflicts to silly extremes, then rushing through the actual desolation of Smaug for… some reason.

Die Hard (cause it’s the Holidays y’all!): The actiony-est of action movies with lots of fisticuffs and guns and explosions still leaves time for our hero to breathe, lick his wounds, and build a relationship with the cop on the ground. We constantly cut between the hero and the villains, all sharing the same radio frequency, constantly antsy about what they know and when they’ll find out the rest, and when they’ll discover the hero’s kryptonite.

2. Make every scene you write do at least two things at once

This is also tricky. Making every scene pull double duty should be left to after you’ve written the first draft, otherwise you’ll never write that first draft. Pulling double duty means that if you’re giving exposition, the scene should also reveal something about the character saying it. If you absolutely must write the boring trip from A to B, give some foreshadowing, some thoughtful insight from one of your characters, a little anecdote along the way.

Develop at least two of the following:

The plot

The backstory

The romance/friendships

The lore

The exposition

The setting

The goals of the cast

Doing this extremely well means your readers won’t have any idea you’re doing it until they go back and read it again. If you have two characters sitting and talking exposition at a table, and then those same two characters doing some important task with filler dialogue to break up the narrative… try combining those two scenes and see what happens.

**This is going to be incredibly difficult if you struggle with making your stories longer. I do not. I constantly need to compress my stories. **

3. Not every scene needs to be crucial to the plot, but every scene must say something

I distinguish plot from story like a square vs a rectangle. Plot is just a piece of the tale you want to tell, and some scenes exist just to be funny, or romantic, or mysterious, plot be damned.

What if you’re writing a character study with very little plot? How do you make sure your story isn’t too slow if 60% of the narrative is introspection?

Avoid repeating information the audience already has, unless a reminder is crucial to understanding the scene

This isn’t 1860 anymore. Every detail must serve a purpose. Keep character and setting descriptions down to absolute need-to-know and spread it out like icing on a cake – enough to coat, but not give you a mouthful of whipped sugar and zero cake.

Avoid describing generic daily routines, unless the existence of said routine is out of ordinary for the character, or will be rudely interrupted by chaos. No one cares about them brushing their teeth and doing their hair.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much. E.g. two characters sitting and talking – do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them gesture, wave, frown, laugh, cross their legs, their arms, shift around to get comfortable, pound the table, roll their eyes, point, shrug, touch their face, their hair, wring their hands, pick at their nails, yawn, stretch, pout, sneer, smirk, click their tongue, clear their throat, sniff/sniffle, tap their fingers/drum, bounce their feet, doodle, fiddle with buttons or jewelry, scratch an itch, touch their weapons/gadgets/phones, check the time, get up and sit back down, move from chair to table top – the list goes on. Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t – what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

4. Your entire work should not be paced exactly the same

Just like a paragraph should not be filled with sentences of all the same length and syntax. Some beats deserve more or less time than others. Unfortunately, this is unique to every single story and there is no one size fits all.

General guidelines are as follows:

Action scenes should have short paragraphs and lots of movement. Cut all setting details and descriptors, internal monologues, and the like, unless they service the scene.

Journey/travel scenes must pull double or even triple duty. There’s a reason very few movies are marketed as “single take” and those that are don’t waste time on stuff that doesn’t matter. See 1917.

Romantic scenes are entirely up to you. Make it a thousand words, make it ten thousand, but you must advance either the romantic tension, actual movement of the characters, conversation, or intimacy of the relationship.

Don’t let your conversations run wild. If they start to veer off course, stop, boil it down to its essentials, and cut the rest.

When transitioning between slow to faster pacing and back again, it’s also not one size fits all. Maybe it being jarring is the point – it’s as sudden for the characters as it is for the reader. With that said, try to keep the “suddenly”s to a minimum.

5. Pacing and tone go hand in hand

This means that, generally speaking, the tone of your scene changes with the speed of the narrative. As stated above, a jarring tonal shift usually brings with it a jarring pacing shift.

A character might get in a car crash while speeding away from an abusive relationship. A character who thinks they’re safe from a pursuer might be rudely and terrifyingly proven wrong. An exhausting chase might finally relent when sanctuary is found. A quiet dinner might quickly turn romantic with a look, or confession. Someone casually cleaning up might discover evidence of a lie, a theft, an intruder and begin to panic.

--

Whatever the case may be, a narrative that is all action all the time suffers from lack of meaningful character moments. A narrative that meanders through the character drama often forgets there is a plot they’re supposed to be following.

[doberbutts]

I'm pulling this out because this shit is funny as hell hold on

Merry and Pippin (2 in 1) actual hijinks and shenanigans of mutual stumbling over each other's first times. Bonus points if they are hours apart. Pippin finds Merry rolling in the hay in the morning, decides he wants in on this and doesn't want to be outdone, finds himself a willing partner, and Merry interrupts them by accident. Comedy gold.

I don't view Frodo as someone interested in sex (boos and hisses from the Sam/Frodo crowd) however Sam I think would similarly be Frodo opening the door to their shared living space after the quest and Sam's, err, "helping" Rosie in the kitchen. Sam stutters an apology, Rosie starts trying to explain, and meanwhile Frodo's just like "really? where we eat???"

Blink and you'll miss it moment between Legolas and Gimli OR the most intense, drawn out, intimate yet tasteful scene with a bonus at the end where Gimli goes "wait wym we're elf-married now". Probably in Rohan, after the drinking contest.

I'm choosing to believe that the scene between Arwen and Aragorn in Rivendell before he left, where she's wearing a mostly translucent shift and he is in a state of far more undress than we've seen him prior and ever seen him again, is a post-sex scene. So just put it there.

There is not a single person who will ever be able to convince me that Boromir did not get mad pussy in Gondor. The same goes for Faramir, who was loved by all except their father.

Gandalf, also, is not a sexual being to me. But with PJ's insistence on highlighting Gandalf's relationship to both Galadriel and Celeborn, I would believe him to be a third in whatever dynamic suits them.. Maybe he and Galadriel have telepathic elf magic ring sex and Celeborn is just like "yeah sure that's fine w/e". This is movie-canon only, of course.

Bilbo also- reclusive, kept to himself, constantly wandering the wilds alone or with Gandalf? Either he and Gandalf are regularly FWB adventure buddies or they're just plain uninterested in the whole deal.

I'm of two minds with Smeagol. On one hand there is great comedy gold with the little fucked up loincloth man and on the other hand there is so much tragedy to his character that I can't decide if it would be funnier to have him still have sexual desires or if it would be sadder to take him at his word when he states that he lost all desire and interest and pleasure in everything except the Ring. Perhaps he attempted to have sex with another Stoor early on in his possession of the Ring, before he was chased away. Maybe someone he had been trying to court, before the murder of Deagol and the subsequent chained events of consequences.

[mushroomates]

gandalf headcanons

hides spare pipe weed under his hat . pippin saw him do it one time. no one believes pippin.

even when he’s like- let me access my emergency stash- and pulls out a doobie from his hat. everyone’s like “woah such wizardry”

it drives pippin bonkers.

will cheat at cards, chess, checkers- has been known to enchant dice to make them weighted. again, denies

just a reminder that he canonically sleeps with eyes open. i’d also like to add that he can sleep standing up. he also does do both during long meetings sometimes.

the sleeping w eyes open particularly messes with legolas. he can’t handle prolonged eyecontact on a good day and now this wizard is staring into his soul and is only maybe conscious

sleeps on his back, stiff as a board. occasionally sits up, pauses, has a brief moment of lucidity and then goes back to bed

also sometimes talks in his sleep. in various languages. sometimes legolas is certain these languages are made up, but they’re spoken with such vigor it seems hard to believe that

you can have full conversations with him. they’re not particularly intelligent or understandable conversations but still very interesting dialogues that he does not recall in the morning. a favored topic is the inflated price of everything.

this is particularly amazing because gandalf does not pay for most things.

often things are gifted. sometimes he finds them, and keeps them as his own. more often than not he mooches off of others, and at times, has been known to take things

not steal. if you stopped him he’d give it back. but no one really has.

he just kind of. picks up something. looks at you. and walks away with it

sometimes will leave small tokens in return,, like rocks with strange runes on them or a single feather

sometimes will return the item after days, months, or years (decades, centuries)

oh i meant to give it back but then the civilization collapsed so-

he tends to favor things shaped like other things- a tea pot that is a boot, a spoon that’s shaped like a flower (evil evil EVIL) salt and pepper shakers that are little houses

also has a fascination with garden gnomes. will often take them ‘home’ as well. where do they go? who knows but they’re his now

no one knows where they go or what he does with what he acquires. a running theory is he has a secret house that no one is allowed in that’s full of weird knick-knacks

in actuality, he gives most of these things away. the garden gnomes are for tom bombadill, the weird spoons are for thranduil because he gives them to legolas and legolas HATES spoons that aren’t *spoons*

arwen is charmed by crossstich, galadriel likes weird soaps and candles, (gandalf the cheese wizard doubles as gandalf the bed bath and beyond wizard.)

saruman does not like novelty salt shakers but gandalf is convinced he does and keeps giving them to him.

on that note gandalf thinks towers are gaudy and would never have one

is very tempted to set up shop in the shire. everyone is against this idea which is why he really wants to.

Disturber Of The Peace- literally loves to uproot unsuspecting hobbits for fun

most known being the baggins, but like, he’s not above standing outside the proudfoots home with a ~mysterious~ envelope until he’s batted away with a broom or very passive aggressively dismissed

he’s like a stray cat that they need to stop feeding with adventures

there’s a list written by the thain of the shire “appropriate times to set off fireworks” . “never” and “when given explicit permission” are the only two things written. unfortunately gandalf is selectively literate

he does not, ever, know what time it is. if he does he won’t tell you-at least in a way that’s understandable to normal people

what’s the time? “it’s today” okay and when is that? “now” thanks buddy.

what times sunset? “when the moon is rising.” when’s that? “at the end of the day”

yk island time? that’s wizard time. just. no sense of any sort of time passing at all. it could be an hour or five days and he will refer to it as a minute. or vise versa. you invite him for tea on tuesday and he shows up on sunday, in the dead of night, with a hand full of seashells and covered in ash. no explanations. he leaves just as suddenly as he came, with a hermit crab in your kettle and dishes in the sink. but yeah, technically, he was there for tea on tuesday.

or arrives four weeks later because you didn’t say what tuesday.

it’s anyone’s guess, including him, what he has in his pockets. four twigs, each exactly 17 centimeters long? sure. half ball of twine wrapped around a chunk of moss? why not. three tea bags, clearly used, tied together and soaking wet. a small glass bottle with strange dust labeled “numbers”. a single tooth. reading glasses, cracked, missing a lense with a shoelace tied around the bridge. he doesn’t even wear glasses.

don’t. ever. ask him for directions. he can give you them, just. in a way that’s so alien that they’re impossible to follow

he kinda just. goes off of vibes? like if it feels like the right distance he will do with it. it’s not miles away but that sounds right

in his heart it is.

is always right. no amount of reason can convince him otherwise

at best, you’re both wrong but still. he knew it all along

rarely knows the right lyrics to things. if he’s called out he’ll just say “well in this version..” because he’s been everywhere and is ancient so no one can really argue

picks fights with a shocking large number of birds.

randomly and for seemingly no reason, in a multitude of languages most long forgotten.

[cherryite]

overthrown - part 2. the sword

summary. in your grief, mark offers a shoulder to lean on and a visit from the oracle provides a way to even the odds against the dark gods army (word count. 5.8k)

content. princess!reader x prince!mark, fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, angst, yearning, hurt/comfort, fantasy au, saving the world, war time activities, found family

warnings. MDNI!!, depictions of violence, blood and injuries, loss of family, grief, rex being a dickhead lowk, survivors guilt, eventual smut (not this part)

author's note. omg it's finally here!! it only took me 5 million years lol. but we're getting into the thick of it now and i'm SO excited heheh! as always, i live for comments and stuff so feel free to discuss with me!! enjoy!

taglist. @pickledsoda @heartfully10

previous/next

plot/ world info character index

It’s been a week since you’d last truly talked to anyone other than High Queen Debbie and Pippin (though you aren’t sure that counts, since Pippin is a cat). You attend meetings with the rest of the heirs. You sit there, quiet, distant. Cecil drones on about battle formations, supply lines, magical contingencies, anything, any strategy that might buy more time until they know what to do. Everything goes in one ear and out the other. You nod when you’re expected to, speak only when you absolutely have to, and leave before anyone can even attempt to talk to you.

You always return to your quarters as soon as you can. Sometimes you cry, sometimes you just stare up at the ceiling. Debbie, in all her loveliness, visits on and off. She typically doesn’t knock anymore, just slips inside like she belongs there, providing you silent companionship. She never asks you to talk. She just sits, quiet and calm, and brings you small things she thinks will do you some good. A fresh set of paints to get smeared on the many canvases that litter the room. Clay you haven’t used yet sits in the corner, mocking you.

Once, she left a note folded beneath a box of pastels. It read: “Make something.”

Art has always been your way out. When you were younger, it helped you pretend. You drew dragons in the margins of your scrolls, painted your dreams across the walls of your room until the maids started complaining. Aaric had incantations. You had brushstrokes and your mind.

Now, painting is all that keeps your hands from shaking. You paint your brother, over and over, chasing the way his eyes gleamed when he smiled. You can’t get his eyes right and it devistates you. You paint your mother, her eyes, her hands, the way her hair used to fall in soft waves when she wore it loose. 

Debbie doesn’t say much. She’ll sit beside you, close but not crowding, her presence solid and unshakable. She’s grieving too. You know that. You forget, sometimes. But she lost someone as well, her husband, the father of her children. You can’t imagine how hard it must be to carry all of that. To lose so much and still wear a crown, still represent the crown. Debbie never falters. She still holds court. Still attends council. Still rises with the sun. Doesn’t wander the halls like a ghost.

And you can barely leave your room.

Pippin curls at your feet as you press your forehead against the crook of your arm. His purring fills the air, calming you, pulling you to sleep. You tell yourself you’re just tired. That you’ll get up tomorrow. That you just need time. Perhaps you’ll just fall asleep here, on the small desk of your quarters, amongst the paintings of your family.

~

“Mark!”

Hearing his name, Mark turns, his eyes landing on his younger brother, Oliver, who’s bounding down the stone corridor to him. Considering how young he is, he’s stayed fairly positive in his father’s absence. He’s young, only seven, and endlessly curious. Most days he’s too caught up in practicing his magic to notice the tension in the air. Or at least that’s what Mark tells himself. The small boy bounces towards him, he’s clutching a lopsided bouquet of flowers in his hands, which are covered in dirt. His smile is so wide and warm that Mark can’t help but grin in return.

“What’ve you got there, Oliver?” he asks, voice soft and warm as he ruffles his brother’s already messy black hair. Oliver beams up at Mark, obviously unphased by the fact that his white tunic is soiled with earth. 

“I went to the gardens,” he explains proudly, his little hands wrapped around the stems of the flowers, “Mama said the Princess is sad. So I made her this!”

Mark tenses and bites his lip. 

You.

He hasn’t seen you, really seen you, since the day you arrived in Viltrum, over a week ago. Aside from small council meetings, you’ve been absent from the training sessions the rest of the heirs partake in. Mark can hardly blame you though. Rex drives him up a wall half the time, Rae and Eve are both nice, but because of his duties he doesn’t know either of them well yet. He’s not sure they would understand the turmoil you're going through, the magnitude of your grief. You walk the halls like a ghost. Always quiet. Always distant.

Your dresses always flow around you as you walk, always dressed in blue, the deep, stormy hues of your homeland, like the sea had followed you here, curling around your ankles and pulling you under. Mark thought you were floating once when he caught you wandering the halls, before he remembered you possessed no magic, only a captivating loneliness.

“That’s very kind of you, Oliver,” Mark murmurs, though something in his chest pinches as the boy tugs insistently at his hand. “I’m sure she’ll like them.” 

Oliver pulls him along before Mark can think to protest. Mark’s eyes widened as his younger brother pulled him towards the grand staircase that led to the living quarters. At first Mark thinks Oliver is taking him to his room to play, he veers right instead of left down the hall, down to where your quarters were. Mark feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“You’ll go with me right Mark?” Oliver says, peering up at him with wide, expectant eyes. “Mom said you would!”

Mark just nods and his throat has suddenly gone dry. Nervousness prickles over his skin as he finds himself and Oliver right in front of the room you’ve all but holed yourself up in. Oliver peers into your room, the door is ajar, that alone is surprising to see.

Oliver knocks his little fist softly against the door. There's no response for a second and Mark almost leans down to tell Oliver that they can give the flowers he picked to you another time, when a soft voice calls out.

“Come in.”

Mark feels his heart pound in his chest, his heart leaping against his ribs.

Oliver drags him across the threshold of your quarters, directly into your safe space. They’re much like his own, beautiful bay windows, a large bed, ancient stone lining the walls. But there's one thing in the room that Mark doesn’t have; nearly a dozen canvases littering the floor, propped up on furniture. Swaths of color crawl across canvas and wood. There’s a pulse here, steady and quiet and aching. His dark eyes finally land on you, Oliver lets go of his hand, bounding over to you cheerfully. 

You’re sitting at a desk near the window, a large lump of clay resting on what looks to be canvas to protect the wood underneath it. The lump of wet earth roughly looks like a bust, much like one of the sculptures that lined the walls of the castle. It doesn’t have a face yet, but there’s care in the shape of the brow, the line of the jaw. Your hair is tied up, away from your face, a few flyaways framing your face. You’re wearing a simple dress, light blue like the ocean in the early morning. The sleeves are pulled up, revealing your clay covered hands, grey reminisce coating your nimble fingers as they slide over the brow bone of the sculpture.

Mark stays in the doorway. He feels awkward, out of place, because this is your safe haven. Because he feels like an intruder. He nearly winces at the thought of him possibly invading your privacy. 

Oliver reaches you, and you turn to look at the young boy as he holds out the flowers he massacred the palace garden over. Mark can see the weariness in your eyes, the way you don't seem fully there. And yet, a soft smile quirks at the edges of  your lips at the sight of the young prince in front of you.

“Hi Princess,” Oliver starts, his voice is boyish and excited as he speaks, “I picked these for you! All by myself too!” His tiny hands shove the flowers out to you, an array of sunset yellows, blues, and soft purples, much like a sunset in Ephia. Mark watches as your tired expression softens, dipping your hands in a basin of water to rid your skin of the clay.

“All by yourself huh?” you question gently as the young boy nods, rising from your chair. “Why don’t we put them over here, by the window?” 

You retrieve the empty vase from the corner of the desk, lifting it carefully with one hand, your other still wrapped around Oliver’s small fingers. His grip is warm and sticky with garden dirt, the flowers crumpled slightly from his excitement. Clay dust streaks your arms, smudges your pretty dress, accompanying some of the dirt from Oliver’s hands. Mark watches from the doorway, struck by how little you seem to notice, or just how little you care. After the flowers find their home in the vase, sitting prettily in the bay window, Mark watches as Oliver looks up at you. 

“Do they make you feel better?

You don’t answer right away. And then, gently, you crouch down to his level. The soft fabric of your skirt pools around you like ocean foam. You rest your hands on your knees, fingers still streaked with clay and ash, and you nod. 

“They help.”

It’s quiet again, though it’s not uncomfortable. Oliver breaks it.

“I’m sorry about Aaric.”

The name hits the air like a stone dropped into still water. You tense, just barely, but Mark sees it. Of course he sees it. Your brother's name sounds strange when spoken aloud, stranger still coming from a child who never knew him.

“I’m sure you miss him. It’s hard not to miss brothers.”

Mark watches the interaction, the air of his lungs caught in his throat. You continue to look at the young boy, your expression seemingly unchanging. But Mark sees the way your lashes lower, the way your breath catches, the way your hand twitches slightly, like you're restraining yourself from reaching for something that isn’t there.

“Thank you Oliver,” you respond, “Nothing is as special as a brother.”

There’s a pause again. You’re still crouched there, on the balls of your feet. And then Oliver, full of innocence and something akin to wisdom, tilts his head.

“I could be your brother too, if you want,” Oliver says, innocently, like he doesn’t know the weight it holds, “I’ve never had a sister before.” 

You stare at him, your mouth parted slightly. Even from his place at the doorway, Mark can see how your eyes water ever so slightly, as they glisten in the light from the sun. The silence hangs in the air again, before you break it.

“Okay,” you respond, your voice quiet and soft. “You can be my brother.”

Oliver makes a quiet but pleased voice in this throat, a mix of a giggle and a hum of agreement. The boy turns to look at Mark, seeking his older brother's approval with a smile. Mark can only manage a nod and a soft smile, trying to bury the thick ache that’s rising in his chest. You’ve looked so unreachable since you arrived in Viltrum, a drifting, distant presence in the castle walls. This is the first time he’s seen you here, truly here. 

“I should go tell Mama,” Oliver says brightly, already turning to the door. “She said it would cheer you up and I knew she was right!”

You stand, watching his tiny form as he exits your orbit, brushing your palms against the fabric of your skirts. “Thank you again, Oliver. I’ll take good care of them.”

The boy just nods, like it wasn’t the single brightest movement of your week so far. And with that, he’s out the door, brushing against Mark as he leaves. His small feet patter down the hallway, little clicks of his shoes, as he leaves a lingering warmth in his absence.

The quiet that settles after his departure is different than before. Not empty, just still, natural. A kind of hush that makes you aware of your heartbeat, the soft creak of the castle stone, the way Mark is still standing in your doorway like he’s unsure if he should step further in or leave you to your solitude.

You don’t meet his gaze right away. Instead, you busy yourself with the water in the basin, dipping your hands into the water again, swirling your fingers to rid them of the remaining clay that may have lingered. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want company,” Mark says, finally finding his voice; it’s low, a bit awkward, but careful, “I, um… I hope that was okay,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “He wanted to bring them himself, and… he thought it might help.”

You turn your head, flicking your hands to rid them of water, your eyes meet. “It did”

Mark can’t help the shy smile that curls at his mouth, “That’s good then.”

There's a beat of silence again

“He’s sweet,” you murmur, glancing at the vase in the window, “You’ve done well as a brother.”

Mark tentatively breaches the entrance to the room, a few steps inside your sanctuary. His dark brown eyes skim over the canvases that litter the room, the sculpture by the desk, finally landing on you.

“That’s all my Mom for the most part,” he replies, pausing a second before speaking again, “but thank you.”

You nod softly, like your thinking to yourself as Mark slowly steps further into the room, his boots tapping against the floor. He leans, almost nervously, against the frame of your large bed, his eyes still on you.

“I-uh- I see him in your art,” he says gently, gesturing towards one of the many paintings that rests by your feet. “Your brother. Aaric.”

Mark can see the way your breath hitches as he says your twin’s name, but you don’t turn. You don’t hide like you’ve been doing since you’ve arrived. You’re quiet again before speaking.

“Everyone keeps saying how sorry they are,” you whisper. “But no one says his name.”

Mark’s voice is soft as he responds. “Names are heavy. But they deserve to be carried.”

You finally meet his eyes again, and for a long moment, you don’t say anything. He doesn’t rush you. He just waits.

“I feel useless,” you admit, the words like glass in your throat. “All I can do is sculpt. Paint. I don’t have magic. I can't fight like the rest of you. I can’t protect anyone. Not even him.”

Mark steps forward, closer this time. “You’re not useless.” His heart is racing, beating heavily in his chest, because he can barely believe you’re confiding in someone. Confiding in him.

“Then what am I, Mark?” you question, your voice is quiet and hollow.

“You’re someone who’s grieving. And still breathing. Still trying.” 

The silent part goes unsaid, the part where he says, ‘just like me’. Your spiraling and he can tell, just by how your head tilts to the side slightly, how your hands grip at the fabric of your dress. You blink hard at him, as he continues to speak.

“I could help you,” he says carefully. “If you wanted.”

He watches as your brows furrow slightly, pinching together on your face. “Help me?”

“With your swordsmanship,” he offers, his fingers twitching from nerves. “I mean. If you want. I’m not saying you need it. I just thought, it might make you feel safer, or more prepared, then I’d be happy to help.” He clears his throat as he finishes, watching you to see what reaction you’ll have.

Your lips part slightly in surprise, the emotion flickering across your expression. He can feel you studying him, his face, his body language, like you’re trying to decipher the sincerity behind his offer. He wonders if you see it how he meant it. If you see no pity. No expectation or pressure. Just something solid, something for you to lean on.

You nod slowly, “Okay.” Mark barely sees it, but he notices the dash of light in your eyes. It’s fragile, but very real. He can feel the tension roll off his shoulders, the weight not so heavy anymore. 

“Okay,” he repeats, and there’s something sweet and boyish in the way he speaks. Almost like it's a relief you didn’t push him away, extending your loneliness. The light of the sun tickles the vase in the window, full of flowers, shining around the room. Neither of you moves, basking in the scent of clay and the fresh smell of flowers.

“Meet me down in the training yard tomorrow morning?” he offers you, treading carefully as to not overstep. “Cecil said we could have the day off from council meetings.”

“Okay.” Your words are quiet, hesitant, but not in a bad way. He nods and Mark takes this as a cue to leave you to your thoughts, backing slowly to the door. He places a hand on the frame, glancing at you again.

“Rest well tonight,” he says gently. “It’s… good to see you out of bed.”

You give him the barest, tired smile. “Don’t get used to it.” He nearly feels his heart stop, because you haven’t smiled like that since you’ve got here. His eyes linger on your face for a second, trying to chase the smile on your lips, remembering the moment you joked and smiled, despite your grief. Mark inhales sharply, and then he’s gone, the door clicking softly behind him. He leaves and you’re left with your sculpture, your clay covered hands, and the faintest flicker of something warmer than grief. Hope.

~

The sky is still caked in a pale haze of the morning when you make your way down to the training, the soft glow of the rising sun creeping through the windows. The birds chirp sweetly and mist rolls over the cool castle walls. You walk onto the grounds, hesitant, but as soon as your boots hit the dirt, you steady yourself. This isn’t the first time you’ve wielded a sword, certainly not the first time you’ve been in a training yard either. You used to watch Aaric train with your father in the training grounds back at home, magic heavy in the air. This feels different though. It doesn’t take you long to realize Mark is already here. 

He stands near the far corner of the yard, his own sword held comfortably in one hand. You can feel the crackle of magic emanating from him, drifting through the air. It almost makes you stop, because you can just tell it’s strong, powerful; much stronger than any magic user you’ve ever met. You push the thought aside despite the shiver that runs down your spine, taking in his appearance. He’s in simple clothing, navy tunic, dark trousers tucked into worn boots, and the sight of him, so unassuming despite the weight of what he carries, makes something shift quietly in your chest. He’s a prince, an heir, and even in simple clothes he looks it.

You had half expected him to have not shown, had second thoughts on training a princess who’s been wandering the halls like she’s half dead when she should be helping with a prophecy to save the realm. But as you look up, Mark has already spotted you and straightens instantly, eyes slightly wide. His lips curl into a small, uncertain smile when you meet his gaze. He lifts a hand in greeting.

“Hey,” he says, voice laced with something between relief and anxiety, “you came.”

You nod, “You said tomorrow morning. Would be rude to not come” A tiny smile quirks at your lips.

His smile is a little sheepish, but bright, “Right. I did.” He walks over to you, his sword still clutched in his hand by his side. He raises his arm, holding out an extra sword to you. You observe the sword he’s extended to you; it's a bit dull and not flashy, perfect for practicing. You reach for the hilt, something about the way his fingers brush against yours sends a shot of warmth up your arm. It’s nothing, nothing at all, but your heart skips a beat anyway. He silently observes your stance, your grip on the blade, your demeanor. He looks like his hands are twitching, his fingers itching to correct.

“Here,” he murmurs, adjusting your feet gently with his boot, then your shoulders with the lightest touch of his hand. “There. That’s good. You’re holding it a little tight, though. Try to loosen your grip. You’ll tire out faster if you’re too tense.”

You glance down at your hands, feeling the tightness in your fingers. You breathe deeply, trying to take his advice. Mark watches, his gaze softening as he waits. The air between you shifts, he’s giving you space, but it’s a space that feels kind. You adjust your stance based on his instructions, and you feel lighter, more confident.

You attempt to swing, like you were taught as a young girl, a small twinge of confidence in your movements. But the sword feels heavy again, and the movements feel awkward. You mess up your first few swings and the blade doesn’t connect properly during a few basic strikes. Your breath catches in your throat, frustration creeping in like a shadow. You feel embarrassed, because Mark is watching you struggle. And because you caught sight of the other heirs watching from above, leaning on the guardrails of the hallway above that's exposed to the training yard. You puff out a heavy breath of air.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” you mutter under your breath, sword drooping slightly in your hands. You try to hide the frustration creeping into your voice, but it’s there. You want to be good. You want to prove that you don’t need magic to stand on your own, to prove you do belong in this prophecy, but everything feels foreign, awkward. 

Mark takes a step toward you, shooting a glare up to the balcony when he hears Rex laughing, followed by a shriek because Eve elbowed him in the side. Mark opens his mouth to speak and you prepare for him to be upset but his voice is gentle, like he’s unsure of how to approach. “You’re doing great,” he says softly, low enough so only the two of you hear. “You really are. And… I know it’s frustrating. But the thing about learning is that it’s okay to struggle with something at first. You don’t have to be perfect.” You glance at him, a small breath catching in your throat. You look down at the sword in your hands, trying to breathe through the knot in your chest.

“Really?” you ask, not quite believing him, but you deeply want to. To take his words as law, provide yourself some comfort. “You think I’m doing well?”

Mark nods, his gaze is soft, in the morning sun his eyes are like the chocolates your mother would make for your birthday; dark brown with wisps of caramel throughout. “Yeah. Definitely. You’re not giving up, and that’s what counts.”

You stare at him for a second longer than you should, gripping the hilt of the sword so tightly your knuckles burn white. His words, simple as they are, fill something empty inside you, a little more than you expected. Something tight eases in your chest.

“Thanks, Mark,” you say quietly.

He flushes, averting his eyes away quickly, his hands shifting nervously. “Of course,” he says quickly, clearing his throat. “You just need to keep going, alright? Keep practicing. You’re doing fine”

You nod, your feet now planted in a steady stance. It’s not perfect, but it feels solid. His words provide reassurance, any anxieties or fears you had melted a bit. You square your shoulders, lifting the sword back into position, the cool metal shines in the sunlight. “Okay. Let’s try again.”

Mark smiles, his eyes flickering back toward you, warm and reassuring. He steps back into his own stance, sword raised, and waits for you to move, only nodding his head slightly.

You swing and you find that the next few strikes come more easily. You’re still clumsy, still unsure, but with Mark beside you, guiding you without being overbearing, helping you without pushing too hard, it feels more like something you can manage. You even hear a few quiet cheers from above, Rae and Eve calling down to you in encouragement.

“That was a good hit!”

“Nice one!”

After a while, you pause, lowering the sword. Your muscles ache from swinging the heavy weapon around. You’re breathing heavily now, but there’s a sense of accomplishment that’s starting to creep up your spine. You wipe at your forehead with the sleeve of your tunic, brushing fallen strands from your eyes. Mark watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he steps forward again, his voice quieter than before. You can tell he’s barely even winded by the way he speaks, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“You’re getting it,” he says, his words like a balm to the anxiety swirling in your chest. “You’re really getting it.”

You exhale deeply, the smallest of smiles curving your lips. “Thanks. I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

Mark’s face flushes again, you would just chalked it up to exertion but there’s something deeper in his gaze now. You see something soft, maybe even vulnerable. You’re unsure what to do with that, so you fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. He looks like he wants to say something more, but then the moment passes and he clears his throat, awkwardly running a hand through his black hair.

“Want to keep going?” he asks, his voice almost sheepish now.

You nod, already feeling the faintest spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, you might be able to do this after all.

~

You stir from the kind of sleep that’s so heavy it swallows you whole. The kind that only comes after exhaustion has settled deep into your bones. A day of training with Mark had left your muscles aching in a strangely satisfying way, a reminder that you are slowly becoming someone else. Someone capable. After weeks of training, most of your days are spent sparring with Mark under the realm’s pale sun, you’ve grown stronger. Eve often joins when she can, striking precise, pink colored magic curling around her like a second skin. Rae pops in now and then, when she feels like it. Rex mostly watches, leaning on the stone walls of the courtyard, eyes lingering just a little too long when it’s Rae beside you. But you try not to think about that part though.

You sit in council meetings now. You speak, often of plans, possibilities, ideas. Debbie nods when you talk. Sometimes she even smiles, in that quiet way she does when she’s thinking of something long ago. You wonder if she sees your mother in you. You walk the gardens with her and Oliver, whose tiny hands are always full of flowers by the time you return to your chambers. He insists you need more color in your room. You don’t argue. Not when he calls you ‘Sis’ and begs.

Mark visits more often too. At first, it was just to ask if you wanted to train more with him. Then it was to bring you an extra ration of sweets from the kitchens to cheer you up on bad days. Then, as your friendship progressed, it turned into sitting on the balcony with you at night, your cat curled in your lap, the stars blinking sleepily above. He listens when you talk about Aaric. About your parents. About Ephia and the salt in the air back home. About how you miss it. And he speaks too, about his mother, about the weight in his chest when he sees her trying not to cry. About his father, the ache of not knowing where he went wrong, not knowing how to cope with him dying. His voice is soft when he talks. Kind. A little unsure, sometimes, like he’s afraid you’ll think less of him. You never do.

Though hope shines amongst the darkness you had found yourself in since arriving at the Viltrum Empire, you still struggle, grief is still a heavy weight around your neck. Aaric’s face is still painted on canvas, sleep still evades you like a deer avoids open fields in hunting season. You still wake up crying some nights. You still feel painfully, cruelly plain in a castle full of magic. 

You still question your place in the prophecy, especially when you witnessed Mark and Eve training a few days ago. Watching from afar, you couldn’t help but feel out of place again. Their magic had crackled like lightning, sparking against the sky with such ferocity it had made you shudder. Eve floated above the ground, runes circling her hands. Mark had burned with power, casting light and shadow with every breath he heaved. And you… you had just stood there. You, with your sword and your aching muscles. A girl with no magic. Just grief and cool steel and paint stained fingers.

As you lay in bed, contemplating the past month, sleep has come easily to you after what feels like a lifetime. After stripping off your clothes, releasing your hair from its constraints, the plush of your pillow brought you to a deep slumber. You think you get a few hours in, but you aren’t sure, because when you open your eyes it’s dark.

Your training sword leans beside the bed, its blade glinting faintly. Something feels wrong. Off. There’s a prickle on your skin, a shift in the air. 

Rubbing your eyes, you peer out into your room. Your eyes widen instantly, snapping open at the sight of… you aren’t even fully sure looming at the foot of your bed. It glows faintly, its form shifting and vast, made of deep, swirling blues and purples. It looks like a figure sculpted from the stars themselves. The air leaves your lungs in a single, sharp breath. A scream tears free before you can stop it, echoing through the stone halls.

You grab your sword without thinking, adrenaline coursing through your veins. In one swift motion, you swing the blade up, trembling, pointing it at the figure before you. Your breaths come quick, panic gripping you like a vice. 

“Who are you?” you demand, your voice shaky and your hand that's grasping the hilt of the blade trembles. Even though you shake, you hold your ground.

It’s voice speaks, but it makes your head hurt with how it sounds; it sounds like billions of voices, all kinds, mixed together, speaking at the same time. Ancient and childlike, feminine and deep and strange. The sound scrapes against the inside of your skull.

“I am the Oracle,” it says, it’s tone neutral, flat. “And you are the princess of Ephia.” You can faintly hear a commotion down the hallway, you wonder if you’ve woken people up with your scream.

“I am,” you say, voice quivering, “what do you want?” Your throat feels impossibly dry.

“I want to assist,” the Oracle says and the air feels thick, “I have information for you. That will ensure your victory against the Dark God and his army.”

You’re quiet, eyes trained on the Oracle, your sword still pointed directly at it.” Footsteps grow louder in the fall, you can fairly hear Mark, Rae, and Debbie’s voices. You must have woken them. 

“I thought you only aided House Grayson,” you say cautiously, choosing your words carefully, “I’m not one of them.”

The form is quiet, almost like it’s assessing you before it speaks again.

“I may speak to whomever I please,” its voice is despondent, causing a shiver to run up your spine. You stay quiet, your heart racing in your chest.

“Thala’s Blade,” it whispers, like it’s a secret, “will be  the key to your success.”

You almost falter. Thala’s Blade is a fairytale. For those who believe the story about the Gods’ sacrifice, how magic came about the realm, Thala’s Blade is well known. It's said it once belonged to Thala, the Goddess of Hope. The legend says she hid the blade, one that could resist magic, crumble even the strongest spells, right before the Gods’ gave their magic to the realm; a safeguard in case someone became too powerful for their own good. A blade from the last breath of a God. Your head spins, because the Blade is fiction, a legend, a fairytale mother’s told their children when they were young. But the Oracle stares at you like it's the truth. Your fingers tighten over the hilt of your sword. 

“How do we find it?” you say slowly, testing the waters. The Oracle is quiet for a second.

“Where the Gods’ once rested their heads,” it says, cryptically. “That is where you will find it. Hope must wield the Blade, or the realm will fall.”

With a crash the door to your room bursts open, Mark and Rae stand in the doorway, magic crackling at their fingertips. Mark freezes when he sees the Oracle, who simply shifts to look at him.

“Hello Gods’ Born,” it says, barely audible before it disappears, the space it occupied empty. The room is still. 

Your sword lowers, your knees give way, and you collapse onto the bed in a daze. Adrenaline still courses through your veins, your skin still tingles. Mark rushes to you, falling to one knee at your side. His hair is messy, black strands fall over his forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice thick with concern. You see Debbie enter out of the corner of your eye, lingering by the door. You can tell she’s unnerved. “You screamed. We… I thought-are you hurt?”

You shake your head, still trying to catch your breath. “It was the Oracle,” you whisper. “It was here. It spoke to me.”

Rae exhales sharply, stepping forward. But Mark is still kneeling beside you, his warm hand hovering near yours, uncertain, afraid to overstep.

“I’m okay,” you breathe. “I think.”

Mark doesn’t say anything for a moment. His brows furrow. He’s thinking, he appears far away for a moment.

“What did it say?” Rae questions, her voice is soft with sleep as she adjusts her glasses on her face. You swallow, your eyes flitting between everyone in the room.

“Thala’s Blade, it’s real,” you swallow thickly. Mark’s dark eyes search your face, an unreadable expression on his face. “We have to find it. The Blade is how we win.”

[live-laugh-legolas]

Hi it’s me again 💀 anyway my request—

The fellowship reacting to reader dancing and singing on a table then asking them to join them up there?

So fun! Idk if I need to put a warning but I imagined these being in a pub so alcohol is mentioned (please drink responsibly)

Tabletop Dancing

Aragorn:

-He watches with a smile behind his cup of ale

-Kinda like the smile he gives when he sees Merry and Pippin high as hell in Isengard

-He is very amused and loves watching you have fun

-But he was not expecting to be asked to join

-I don’t think he is much of a dancer and although he does sing, he doesn’t necessarily do it in a pub sort of fashion

-He won’t get up on the table with you

-But he will hold your hand and walk around the table with you

-Another reason he won’t get on the tables is because he is too tall

-I’m pretty sure he is canonically 6’6

-His head would bust a hole through the ceiling and scare the living shit out of the people in the room above

Legolas:

-He’s a little shocked at first

-Elves party different from other races; and this seems a bit… uncivilized

-But he is nothing if not open to learning new cultures and traditions

-He finds it very fun to engage in; much to his surprise

-I think movie Legolas may not want to get on the tables; but if we are going by the books then he absolutely will jump up and will walk around on the backs of chairs because he��s a show off

-He does fancy twirls with you

-He possibly accidentally throws you off the table doing this

Gimli:

-Ok; he is fully accepting of this and has no hesitation to join

-Dwarves love a good party, and especially this dwarf

-Even more so if he’s had a bit to drink

-Maybe don’t pull him up on the tables though

-Dwarves may be short, but they are solid and should not jump on tables if you want to have a table afterwards

-He will sing his heart out with you

-He is so loud it drowns you out but that’s alright

Boromir:

-He is clapping and singing along the whole time

-Like Aragorn he also is a bit too tall for table dancing

-However he is not deterred once he’s drunk enough

-He’s definitely a light weight though so it’s doesn’t take long for him to get up there and belting his heart out with you

-He steals the show if we are honest

-He will fall off the table

-Every time

Frodo:

-We know this Hobbit will get up on a table to perform

-He’s not shy to having a good time

-He is happy to be pulled up onto the tables with you to dance

-He definitely kicks a few cups over because he’s a little clumsy

-But no one can even be mad at him because he is so cute

-Seriously that smile is even worse than puppy eyes

Sam:

-Probably the hardest to convince to join you

-He’s just not one to enjoy being the center of attention

-But he loves watching you having a great time

-He will need to be a few drinks in to join

-He is more worried about you falling off the table

-He will kind of dance around the table but really he’s just there in case you trip

-He will be singing whatever song you were singing the next day

-It is stuck in his head and he’s much more open to singing when not in a crowd

Merry:

-It all depends on his mood

-He doesn’t want to say no to you and he does enjoy a good table tap dance

-However he also likes just observing the joyful scene

-He will sing duets with you

-He is less involved as Pippin though, and instead favors hyping you up over putting on his own show

-He joins in with cheers to call and response type songs

Pippin:

-You don’t even have to ask

-He’s already up there with you

-Every table is this a stage for this hobbit

-You two are absolute menaces but the life of the party so it evens out

-Full choreography

-You always get a standing ovation

-This is like a weekly thing for you two at least

-You guys have loyal fans

Gandalf:

-This old wizard loves a good jig

-At first I was thinking he would never get up on the tables

-But then I realized he absolutely would if he was drunk enough

-Idk why but I have decided he knows how to break dance but will complain about how sore he is the next day

-He will deny ever dancing on the tables or belting out songs

-He’s too old and dignified for that…

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

I hope this is a good enough response. I realize this isn’t really their reaction to the reader as much as just how they join in lol.

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 3.3k (each individual around 190~ words) | Read on Ao3

TWS : None, but it is suggestive at times.

« 1, 9, 10, 11, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ At the start of your relationship, you realise just how tactile the ranger is when it comes to you.

✧ If he can, he’ll come up next to you and use more animated gestures - often making points of contact that make you blush at the lightest touch.

✧ You know you shouldn’t be expecting anything, but when his hands tilt your head slightly to look at him you can’t help but want him to kiss you.

✧ On his part, he’s struggling with the desire to kiss you and the traditional courtship he believes you might want. The one that says he should be bringing you flowers for months, that even the hand holding is too soon (not that he can bring himself to break that).

✧ Eventually, it happens in his chambers near the eve of the Fellowship’s departure.

✧ The two of you are alone, and he can see your nerves playing up at the prospect - the salvation of Middle earth - being up to you.

✧ Gently, he takes your face within his hands. Trying to find the words to say to comfort and convey his love.

✧ As you stare, you can feel yourself being pulled slightly closer - you can feel his breathing - and it’s so easy to lean and close the gap between you two.

✧ Aragorn stays there for a second, so still you almost wonder if it’s a kiss.

✧ But when you pull away you can see his eyes suddenly shine with love, and a hint of possession.

✧ Then he pulls you back to him - this kiss being much more passionate (the one that makes him regret not doing this sooner).

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ For an elf, the first kiss should be an intimate affair - one done to truly solidify the bond between lovers. It doesn’t truly matter what the kiss is, or how good it is, just that it happens.

✧ On his part, Legolas thinks slightly too much about it - just like with the confession. He imagines the different places it could happen in, if he should initiate it. He tries to focus on the romantic details, although there is a part of him that thinks about what your lips would feel like against his.

✧ The two of you are sitting together in the moonlight, talking about nothing in particular and admiring the scenery.

✧ You speak about how everything looks so beautiful in this light, before obviously staring at him with a grin.

✧ Legolas smiles too, but he doesn’t look away, instead keeping staring into your eyes - occasionally straying away to look at a strand of hair, or the rest of your face.

✧ Or your lips, his eyes keep moving to them - seeing what they look like in the moonlight.

✧ Noticing his staring, you move slightly closer to the elf - until the two of you are incredibly close to each other.

✧ There’s a question in his eyes as you continue to bridge the gap, but he leans in incredibly eagerly once you properly kiss him.

✧ It’s still light and playful, when you stop he takes a second to look at you all over.

✧ And then he kisses you again.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Although you stay in the Shire almost permanently now (why wouldn’t you?) there’s still a rare occasion where you have to leave for more than a day or so, almost always on ranger business.

✧ Both of you have known about this date for a while now, but it hurts more - because it’s the first time you’ll be apart when you’re officially together.

✧ Making sure you’ve packed everything, you look back to the door one more time before back at Frodo.

✧ “Try not to miss me too much.”

✧ It makes him laugh, and he responds that he certainly will. Looking around, he notices the tinderbox you’ve left behind, holding it out to you.

✧ As you thank him you also move closer, hands brushing as you take it.

✧ And that’s when he kisses you.

✧ It’s feather-light, but enough to stop you in your tracks as you stare again.

✧ You can see Frodo turning red, before he wishes you a good trip and awkwardly tries to close the door.

✧ Putting your hand in front of the door you gently pull it open again, this time asking if you can have a proper one as your goodbye.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Like many events in the Shire, they tend to repeat if the day calls for it. And so you find yourself invited to yet another dance, in the same field you danced with Sam in.

✧ When you tell him about it you can see his eyes widen in realisation, before he shyly asks if you’ll go to dance with him again - as his date this time.

✧ Of course you agree, and the following night he picks you up - a single rose in his hand for you, matching his own.

✧ The dances are slightly more formal this time, and you spend the first half of your date watching and talking - occasionally pointing out moves that would be fun to do.

✧ (He gets very flustered when you ask him if he’d spin you.)

✧ Eventually the nerves dissipated enough for you two to begin dancing together, moving in time to the music while having fun.

✧ As the song ends you gently lean into a dip, and he follows perfectly - ending the song with you only an inch away from each other’s faces.

✧ Taking a deep breath you lean into him, and he instantly kisses you back.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ It’s still your first date, only a little after the icing has finally been put on and you’ve been able to taste it, when you two first kiss.

✧ Both of you are enjoying the cake, with Merry trying to take a slice that doesn’t ruin the decoration he worked so hard on.

✧ With precision, he manages to cut a slice that doesn’t remove any of the main decoration while still being sufficiently covered in frosting.

✧ Taking a bite, you laugh as he comes up with frosting still on his face - making a white dusting all around his lips.

✧ Upon realising what he’s done he begins to lick it off, eyes brightening at the sweetness before looking over to you.

✧ “You know, I think you might have some icing on your lips as well.”

✧ He can hear his heart beating as you process his words, before soaring as you lean slightly closer to him.

✧ Merry bridges the gap instantly, coming over to you and kissing you - as well as he feels comfortable with.

✧ The kiss tastes of sugar.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ The two of you are walking through the gardens of Imladris, like you do most days.

✧ There’s only one real difference - it’s slightly earlier than usual, and instead of being bathed in moonlight there’s the glow of a sunset illuminating both of you.

✧ As you’re walking the sun catches him just right, and you stop to stare for a second - not realising he’s doing the same to you.

✧ It takes a few seconds for the both of you to realise what you’re doing, but instead of the usual laughs that come with this realisation you keep staring at each other.

✧ You keep staring, and there’s a second when it might become awkward when he suddenly goes up to kiss you.

✧ Even though you weren’t expecting it you lean in as well, more passionately than you were intending.

✧ Breaking up the kiss, Pippin looks up at you as the sun’s final rays go behind you.

✧ “You really do look like an angel.”

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Although he’s seen you in and out of ranger gear, the meeting between captains is the first time Boromir has seen you in formal attire.

✧ He knows that he should be listening to the military achievements of his men, of Faramir’s men, and he does. It’s just that every time there’s nothing going on his eyes flicker back to you.

✧ You get the courage to approach him first, coming up to congratulate him on a recent victory. That’s where you notice the staring, and a grin appears on your face.

✧ It doesn’t take very long for you to slip away, and he’s fairly discreet when he follows you outside to one of the walls.

✧ Under the stars, you take his breath away when he can finally look at you.

✧ When you’re finally within talking distance the two of you exchange some words, but there’s clearly other things on your mind.

✧ Taking another step forward, and taking both of your hands, he comes closer - searching in your eyes for if this is ok.

✧ You press your lips to his in response, instantly rewarded with him leaning further into you.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Technically, your first kiss was in a tavern - guided by some drink, and a general air of want.

✧ It’s a kiss he can’t bring himself to forget, how could he forget anything about you, but it isn’t what he wants to be your ‘first kiss’ with him.

✧ Still, at times when you laugh or smile at him in a certain way the memories come back to him. How your lips felt, the subtle taste. Something in him wonders if it’s changed.

✧ As the two of you laugh together in one of the gardens of Gondor, this time a public one, the thought pops into his mind again.

✧ Faramir tries not to think about it, but you notice the blush that appears - where he was staring beforehand. Almost not moving, you pull his hand into yours and give him a smile.

✧ “Do you… want this to be our first kiss? Instead?”

✧ You barely hear him breathe ‘yes’, but as soon as you do you pull him into you.

✧ Arms around him, he’s still incredibly gentle even with your encouragement. But he doesn’t pull away until you do, and when he does his eyes are full of love.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ You know not to treat Éowyn as though she’s made of glass, she defeated the witch-king and has beaten you in sparring matches, but there are certain customs you struggle to break.

✧ Like continuing to court her, but not kissing her. Even though, when the two of you gaze up at the moonlight, you truly want to.

✧ It’s something that bothers Éowyn as well - although for different reasons. Why do you not kiss her? She knows it’s probably you, but a small part wonders if it’s her.

✧ And so, as the two of you are sitting in the Houses of Healing together, she asks you.

✧ Which causes a little bit of your heart to break as you realise what she thinks, compared to how you’ve been acting.

✧ You rush to reassure her that you’d love to kiss her without thinking, only for your face to heat up when you think about what you’ve said.

✧ But she’s laughing, a tender one that ends with love in her eyes.

✧ As the two of you are already so close she takes your head, guiding it towards her before the two of you kiss.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ When Sauron’s scouts are again seen on Rohan’s soil, Éomer is tasked with leading out his éored to face them off and make sure they don’t threaten your borders. It’s the first time, since you began to court, that you haven’t seen him every day.

✧ You try not to let it bother you, but when word that he’s coming back arrives you and Éowyn both go to the gate immediately, waiting for him.

✧ It reminds him of when he waited for you, and you wonder if he felt the same love and affection you’re feeling now, if he felt the same nervousness that maybe your love is coming back.

✧ Éomer is easy to identify, thankfully, and you can see him from a distance away - quickly moving backwards so when his horse gets here you aren’t to be trampled.

✧ As Éomer sees the waiting people, his eyes scan over for you - looking around until he spots you on the outskirts.

✧ Dismounting quickly, the two of you instantly come together - hugging his armour as he holds you closer.

✧ Looking up at him, you smile before repeating his words. “I believe one of the things you looked forward to fighting for was my affections.”

✧ There’s a second as he realises what you said, before eagerly kissing you - and you feel warmth in your heart, like a celebration except only of your love.

✧ The two of you eventually break away, and there’s no mistaking the pure happiness in his eyes.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Bard had always been quite tactile with you, if it was a hug or him slinging an arm around your shoulders as he greeted you.

✧ Physical touch was an expression of his love language, one that was made abundantly clear by how he acted around you most days.

✧ Your first kiss isn’t led up by a romantic moment, or one of you pouring out your hearts, but a fairly normal day.

✧ As he leaves your house, with you waving him off, he turns around in a practised gesture - except this time he kisses you instead of hugging you.

✧ It’s casual but enough to make you freeze for a second. And he freezes once he realises what he just did, immediately apologising.

✧ You cut him off, saying you enjoyed the kiss. That - if he was interested - you wouldn't be opposed to doing it again.

✧ And Bard is more than happy to oblige.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ As much as he wants to kiss you, Thranduil restrains himself at the start.

✧ Sometimes you can definitely feel his gaze on you, quiet but admiring - sweeping painstakingly over every inch of you - although it always flies away whenever you try to catch him.

✧ Your dates continue, and sometimes the two of you are so close it’s almost suffocating. But as much as he wants to keep going, he stays where he is.

✧ It’s you who makes the first move, as the two of you sit together during a date.

✧ His voice catches in a way you recognise, and your hand reaches out to stop him from drawing away. Instead getting him slightly closer.

✧ Thranduil’s breath hitches slightly, but he doesn’t draw away. Instead he looks into your eyes, silently asking if this is what you really want.

✧ And when he detects no protests, he tilts your lips up into his - kissing you at first being chaste, before going deeper as you do not draw away.

✧ Eventually leaving your lips, but only to catch a breath.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ Swords clash in the air, never quite hitting your beloved’s armour, and you just about see her smile before you lunge at her.

✧ When her sword is brought up she expects you to turn slightly, except you do not. But what you don’t foresee is your sword catching on hers - almost perfectly attaching them together.

✧ Both of you try to pull at the same time, and you can feel yourself jerk into her before the two of you end up on the floor.

✧ The swords clatter to the ground somewhere behind you, but when you're only inches away from Tauriel’s face you find you don’t really care.

✧ You don't care about the ground being uncomfortable either as Tauriel gets closer to you.

✧ Instead, there is pure bliss as Tauriel kisses you. Breaking apart and looking you up and down with a smile, before kissing you again.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ As a human, you sometimes fall behind when it comes to partying with elves. Not with alcohol, Lindir is very careful to make sure there is sustenance for you (and other mortal guests they occasionally have), but with how long they go on.

✧ And after having been awake for almost twenty-four hours, you find that you simply can’t go on anymore.

✧ Not wanting to walk alone, and being sleepily-clingy, you slowly creep up behind your partner and put your arms around him.

✧ Lindir starts slightly from the sudden touch, before freezing when he feels your lips on his neck. It’s very gentle, but more than enough to make him turn crimson.

✧ He peels you off him, before turning around and politely asking if that’s what you meant to do.

✧ “I’m tired Lindir, not completely out of it.” There’s a soft smile on your face as you look at him again.

✧ It grows even wider when he shyly asks if he could, perhaps, have another one.

✧ You need to initiate more with this kiss, but he’s still receptive - and when you pull away there’s a large smile on his face.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ As you sit on the ship, you can’t help but look at your companions and wonder how it ended up like this. With your prince, a future king, a dwarf, and a partner you hadn’t had until a few weeks ago. And an army of dead, somewhere around you.

✧ Jumping up and down, your leg continues to move even when you take a calming breath - although you’re not sure what’s making it do that.

✧ “Do you need anything?” Haldir’s voice comes from next to you, and then he sits down - looking at you with concern, although not something patronising.

✧ You shake your head, but he still reaches out to hold your hand.

✧ And then, feeling almost alone on the water, Haldir gets closer again. This time with all of you only a little apart.

✧ When he leans in to kiss you, he hardly has to move because of the space, and he has to move even less when you go to meet him.

✧ The kiss is slow, loving, and when you open your eyes again you see him smiling back at you.

✧ Enquiring if it was just as magical for you as it was for him.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ Only a few weeks into your relationship, you can occasionally feel stares at you. Stares that you recognise, that are familiar.

✧ Although perhaps not familiar in terms of the romance and want that’s directed through them.

✧ But you also know that, for as lovely as Elladan is, he might not make the first movement. He’s too content to admire your beauty from afar.

✧ So you take the initiative, as the two of you read together in the library.

✧ Thumbing through your romance book, you leave the page open as you lean against Elladan’s shoulder - looking up at him and trying not to look two guilty.

✧ His gaze softens as he sees you, before trailing down and seeing the book you’ve been reading. It’s one he gifted you, a long time ago, and he looks from the pages again to you.

✧ Elladan opens his mouth as if to ask you a question before he thinks better of it, instead leaning in - gently pressing his lips on yours.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ As flirty as he can be, Elrohir is actually somewhat restrained when it comes to asking you if you’ll kiss him.

✧ He much prefers to give mournful glances across the room, eyes lingering at your lips for slightly too long - but never enough to be caught by anyone else.

✧ If you didn’t know him better you’d say he was waiting for an opportunity, but exactly what it is you can’t tell.

✧ And then the two of you are outside the city walls, sharing blackberries together and talking about some story or another.

✧ Half way through you notice his gaze isn’t entirely focused, or more accurately not focused on your eyes. Just slightly lower down.

✧ A look must show up on your face because he laughs, sheepish but not ashamed. “Does it taste nice?”

✧ “Does what?”

✧ “The blackberries.” It’s an innocent statement, but he’s slightly closer to you. Head tilted in a way that could be questioning, but is something more.

✧ You’re almost tongue tied in your answer, but you manage to get out, “Why don’t you try-”

✧ You just about finish the sentence when he kisses you, stopping briefly - to taste the berry tint on your lips - before returning just to you.

✧ When the two of you finally break apart he looks much too pleased with himself.

A/N : Guess who forgot to queue this and only realise now? Hi again, and thanks again for reading. Also, sorry if some of these are awkward/repetitive - I'm more than open to feedback <3

« first scenario, previous scenario, next scenario, masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

Taglist :  @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg /  @ferns-fics /  @fleurdemiel-145 / @chewgazellechew / @nilintakan

[tehcherrya]

On this episode of little details I notice:

There is so much movie magic that goes into the LOTR movies in the way of suspending your belief. Not once are you aware that there are full, human sized actors playing the Hobbits because the perspective and playing with scale is done so well.

Though there is this one shot I can't help but marvel at every time, and if you haven't bothered to pay attention to it before, it's just a testament for how well it's pulled off.

It's THIS SCENE:

Look at their hands.

That is obviously not Billy Boyd's hand, especially because of how small it looks compared to Ian McKellan's, but your brain can register that, it might not be Billy's hand, but it certainly is Pippin's hand.

It's just so impressive, during a scene so close up, where they obviously couldn't have used a scale double for the face, they went the extra length to make Pippin look smaller, having a scale double off screen, having their hand held by Gandalf. So subtle, you might not even notice it at first, but it WORKS.

[shirefantasies]

Hi! How do you think each of the LOTR characters would kiss? (Frodo is my favorite, but I'd love to hear your thoughts/headcanons for all of them) 😊

OH HO YESSS

Been wanting to do this one for a bit. This is one of my favorite things to write & TBH I’m surprised I went this long without doing it…let’s get it 😏

What Type of Kisser is Each LoTR Character?

Aragorn

So passionate in his every motion, lips sliding tenderly against yours like they belong there. Tends to cup your cheek or trace the curves of your cheekbone as he pulls you in. While he is the one guiding the kiss, he adapts easily to your pace, happy to take his time and savor you or devour you at your unspoken choosing. Also uses more tongue than he looks like he would…

Legolas

You barely remember how it happens sometimes, a sudden embrace turning into a kiss as Legolas’s arms hold you fast, sliding up and down your sides as his dark eyes glance hesitantly into yours for just a moment. A moment quickly passed as one of his hands breaks free only to brush your face as his lips meet yours sweetly. His hands remain upon your waist as he presses a long, warm kiss to your lips. Surprise him with a little bite, he loves it far more than he would ever admit!

Boromir

His hands always end up in your hair, tangling in it if it’s long or simply running his hands gently over it. Somehow knows exactly what you like, your favored pace, just where to run his hands next. A bit of a tease, pulling away just to see if you chase him or frown, only to return and give you what you wanted and more. Sometimes his grip slides lower to your waist or your back as his nails run down, almost always he ends up giving you at least one little nip between kisses…

Gimli

Pulls you in with both hands guiding your cheek or beneath your chin, crashing his lips to yours with reckless abandon. You can feel the pleasant surprise bloom across his pursing lips when you meet him with the same fire, his tongue darting out to the edge of your mouth looking for invitation. Kissing him is like exercise, bold, breathless, and invigorating all at once- with Gimli, both of you will be left feeling indomitable.

Frodo

Kisses with Frodo usually start with his lips upon your head or cheek before he pulls away, blue eyes gazing into yours. His lashes flutter tentatively before he leans in and his lips caress yours. Not one for messy kisses, but his soft motions pour every word of love he is too shy to speak straight to your rapidly beating heart. Frodo adores resting his forehead against yours after you separate, holding you against him as he wishes for the bliss to last forever.

Sam

The sweetest actually. Never not smiling at you lovestruck before and after any kisses you share. Sam peers at you like you raise the morning sun before tugging you closer by your joined hands, lips meeting yours with soft, loving awe. Slow, sensual kisses are his favorite as he takes time to savor every part, every motion, of your beautiful lips. If he feels you smile into the kiss, though, he’s lost, probably picking up the pace much faster than he realizes!

Merry

So playful and joyful whenever he gets the privilege of claiming your lips. You’ll be able to feel Merry smiling into the kiss as he presses just a bit deeper with each go. He likes to hold the small of your back as you meet. Casually slides his tongue in there as if he’s teasing you, and how can you deny him? Be warned: the more you try to keep up, though, the more he goes at it! Kissing Merry is like a game, one that leaves you without breath.

Pippin

It’s never just one kiss; Pippin is too addicted to your lips. Even if you just lean in for a peck, Pippin is pulling you in to deepen the kiss and taste your lips again and again. Whether he realizes how madly eager you get because of his little habit you don’t know, but you see no need to correct him. Prefers the simple feeling of connection to exploring your mouth, but every kiss you share is full of plenty of love and passion.

Faramir

Takes both of your hands in his as his means of pulling you close before his lips ghost tentatively over yours. They quickly pick up confidence as he feels you against him, the way you squeeze his hands gently. No little pecks here, Faramir’s kisses are long, long enough for him to tell you again and again what you mean to him and how he relishes in the soft glow of your warmth. He is happy to lead or let you lead so long as you indulge his love for you.

Eomer

Rough would probably be the best way to describe Eomer’s kisses. His lips crashing into yours, the scattered nips you feel, moving fast as you’ll let them, but still loving, almost reverent, somehow. You can feel him taking control, but can you truly complain beneath such a head-spinning kiss or the way his hands softly roam? For all that and all the lines about tongues battling, his kisses never feel like war, but like the cry beforehand, a declaration of will to fight for all one loves.

Haldir

Tends to start with a gentlemanly kiss to your hand before slowly meeting your eyes, seeing the shine therein and falling into your gravity. Hesitant as the first press of his lips upon yours is, the rush sets in and Haldir is soon holding you flush against him, enjoying the feeling of your hands upon his chest as he claims your lips. Private kisses are his favorite, taking in your ravishing beauty away form prying eyes or any distractions from relishing the feeling of you, exploring every inch of your mouth if the mood so takes him.

Eowyn

Her kisses are so sweet and joy-filled, you just know she’s experiencing sweet relief every time. Might even giggle a bit in between as she loves to peck your lips again and again before you finally grab her face and hold her there, kissing her hard enough to make her swoon. She loves to take your hand or wrap it around your back, some way to feel in complete connection as your lips move in their passionate harmony.

Arwen

Enjoys sneaking up on you from behind, lips pressing first to your neck or cheek until you turn around, instantly connecting with her. She loves to throw her arms around you in full surrender, time seemingly stopped as you enjoy the glide of her lips over yours and little more. Long kisses are her favorite, the ones where you forget about the world and live in the feeling of your synchronized pauses of breath, the way her arms trace up and down yours, perhaps a playful flick of her tongue…

Elrond

So incredibly gentle, pressing his lips to yours as if they could break. His grip on your back is just as gentle, the faintest of contact tethering your unity. The look he gives you afterward is enough to melt you, shocking him with the way you yank him back in, but his quick response shows no complaint. The second kiss is always more passionate, the one where you can feel the corners of Elrond’s mouth arch in amusement and his hand wrap around your shoulder.

Lindir

Shy at first, always seemingly wondering where to put his hands as they hover. The moment you deepen the kiss, though, they’re glued to your waist like they’re meant to be there. His motions are soft, delicate, intentional as if you were his latest artwork. Goes absolutely weak in the knees if you wrap your legs around him, his hands moving like they have minds of their own to hold you up even though his has completely blanked, knowing only this feeling of you fully his. Happier than anything to let you lead, moving in total surrender to your wonderful will.

[swanimagines]

Hi, Can I get E32 with Aragorn, thanks!

Prompt: E32. Having a deep conversation

WHEN THE TIME COMES

You watched as Aragorn sat by the fire, sharpening his sword. It had been just a few days when the Ring took Boromir and Frodo had decided to run off from you, and you could see from Aragorn’s posture how it weighed on him. The future of his kingdom would depend on him, and you knew he felt like he had already failed with Boromir, so he also had even greater doubts on if he would be a good king.

You knew he would be the best thing that’s happened to this land in centuries, but you also knew he didn’t see it that way. He saw himself as a failure, and he was afraid the kingdom depending on him would end up as a disaster.

So, you carefully sat down by him, which made his eyes flicker up from his sword. He gave you a tired smile.

“My love,” he murmured, taking your hand. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, but shouldn’t you be sleeping too? Sun is rising in a few hours.”

He hummed, retreating his hand and putting his sword back into its sheath. He stared into the fire for a moment, and you saw the flames dancing in his eyes. You searched his face, as if hoping you’d somehow see or hear his thoughts, but on the other hand you believed you already knew what he was thinking.

So, you shifted closer to him, looping your arm around his. “Boromir believed in you until his last breath, he wouldn’t want you to sit here, brooding and wondering if you’ll make a good king after all.”

“The Ring…” he paused, exhaling shakily before he continued, “it preyed on him like it preys on all who come near it. I know Boromir died a hero. I know he had redemption before he got corrupted, but I still cannot stop thinking I failed, as a friend and a leader.”

You shook your head. “Boromir knew what he was doing in the end. He was corrupted by the Ring for a moment, yes, but he protected Merry and Pippin once he saw they’re in danger, he chose them over the Ring. He was a good man and died as a true hero.”

Aragorn was quiet for a long moment, just staring into the fire, before he finally sighed. “You are right. He died a hero, and if he heard me now, he would tell me to pull myself together.”

You snorted. “That he would. I can almost see it.”

He glanced around to see everyone else sleeping, and then glanced towards your own sleeping spot. “It’s late. We should go to sleep, it is going to be a long day tomorrow.”

You nodded, standing up and dusting off your robe. “Grumpy, tired you is the last thing we need right now.”

He smirked slightly, before he stood up as well and you made your way to your little shelter together before lying down.

As you laid there, he took your hand and interlaced your fingers as you turned to look at him. “Thank you for listening and giving advice, my love. One day, you will make me a strong leader whenever I doubt myself.”

You smiled faintly, scooting closer to his body and closing your eyes, murmuring, “You will be the best thing this land will get, Aragorn.”

You fell asleep then, with his arms around you, and the doubts Aragorn had about himself were put to rest — at least for now. You would honor Boromir and his sacrifice when the time would come, but for now, you all needed to rest and help with dealing with Sauron gathering an army. 

A war would be coming, and there Aragorn would show his people his skills as a leader, and after that no one would doubt whether he’d make a good king.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)