#and it seems to me that aragorn being who he is

[altschmerzes]

That Aragorn and Faramir fic idea you mentioned sounds really interesting! There's so many layers involved in those two and those around them, and it sounds like a concept you would really have fun with!

THANK YOU it’s so clear in my mind honestly. this moment in that in-between space where aragorn either comes to find him or runs into him and has the chance to talk with him for the first time - say, you know, it’s an honour to meet you. your brother spoke of you with great pride.

like. the kind of person aragorn is would be really fascinating to watch faramir figure out how to handle tbh. this is Thee Literal King, and he’s also the type of person who looks at the people around him with warmth and appreciation at all turns, who puts himself on the line beside them, who is compassionate and interested in people and like. offers people his respect. pretty much regardless of who they are, until they prove they do not deserve it.

and for faramir, who has been. well. look at all he’s been doing in pursuit of his father’s respect, his father’s love, all entirely in vain. and what came of it. he’s just narrowly survived an attempted murder/suicide, after the first time he was sent to his death for the crime of being the wrong son didn’t quite get him all the way dead. just mostly there. so he’s been suffering and bleeding and dying for the good opinion of the central authority figure in his life to absolutely no avail. and here’s the king. the literal whole king. who’s never met him before, and is now seeing him in this sorry state. who offers his good opinion freely and without hesitation.

i SIMPLY think there’s so much potential in that dynamic and i want to poke at it SO bad tbh

[fatedroses]

Two former military elites taking merc jobs perform absolutely hellish battle tactics together.

[tragedykery]

it’s sooo fucked up that boromir’s last words were “I’ve failed.” literally sooososo fucked up

[anghraine]

I'm not watching ROP (Amazon boycott where I can, although AWS is half the internet so) so I'm only following distantly, but THANK YOU for you Aragorn and kingship post. It's one thing where even if I can buy into the high fantasy narrative of kingship by rights, I can never forget its real-life implications. I know the last book is literally named The Return of the King, but it's really worth questioning it and not forget that Gondor was actually fine without a king for generations.

Honestly, I can respect an Amazon media boycott when it's not blatantly about fandom shit more than anything else. So more power to you on that.

With regard to the post, thanks, and no problem! Tolkien walks a narrow and complicated path with Aragorn and kingship in LOTR, which is part of the reason it doesn't bother me more. But I can't deny that it does bother me, and all the more because Tolkien is so insistent on the Stewards' virtues and competence (very much including Denethor's) right up to the last ... two days? of their 969-year reign. In a way, that only makes the royalist reasoning more pronounced.

It took awhile for me to figure out why deposing a long-standing dynasty and instituting a different one for reasons of blood bothers me so much more than having dynastic rule in the first place. But yeah, "we're going to keep having basically autocratic rule because we always have" requires a very different sort of buy-in than actively changing a long-established government to the same sort of government but with a different guy in charge for legalistic primogeniture reasons.

Aragorn is only able to get away with this because of his personal qualities, heroism, popularity, etc, but he's only in the running at all because of firmly royalist (and patriarchal) rationales, and you have to accept those at some level for the mystique to work. And there are reasons that some of us can't do it!

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

Back with more parent AU because it's some of my favorite fluff! Consider this a Part 1 to an anon request that’ll be on its way hehe (also an AU where something happens with Celebrían apparently 😥)

Warnings: conception, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms mentioned, very long post lol

Aragorn

✧ Neither of you had made any concrete plans. No set in stone hour of your marriage reserved for the growth of your family or dubbed too early. Thus, you are unsure how your husband will feel about your news, the fact that you got yourself checked out the first moment of illness, mother's intuition in full service already, it would seem. You cannot keep your smile to yourself, though, as you stroll in search of Aragorn, hand hovering about your own waist as if in disbelief. He had just returned from a hunting trip when you found him, smiling shakily at his amusement when you pulled him immediately aside into the next room over. "What troubles your heart?" The man had intuition of his own, years of silent observation- there was no lying to him. "I just learned that I am with child, Aragorn," you took his hand, seeing no point in being anything but direct, "due for the birth next spring if all goes well." "With blossom comes the next blessing of my kin," your husband replied, that wise look in his blue eyes causing you to shake your head fondly, "what could be more beautiful? What a gift you have given me and how could I ever repay it?" Shaking your head once more, you simply grinned and, sighing with relief and anticipation alike, replied that being the amazing father you know him to be will be all you need. Leaning forward, Aragorn laid his head against yours, brushing your noses as he held you.

✧ Looking out upon the kingdom, the realization that is is his kingdom still sinking in, and that he has made this place a home for new life as well. That this is the very reason he fought for a safe world. It brings such a rush to his heart that he goes off in search of you at once, kissing you warmly and caressing your still-small bump.

✧ Aragorn loves doing anything he possibly can to make your days easier, treating you like the queen you quite literally are! He pampers you with treatment like massages, washing your hair for you, drawing you baths, and the like.

✧ While you no doubt have many people at your disposal, quite similarly your husband enjoys cooking for you by hand and memorizes everything that makes you sick if anything as well as the random foods your cravings make you obsessed with, trying to creatively incorporate them into everything.

✧ You knew it already, but your pregnancy brings about the reminder that this man has such a way with encouraging words, his voice the only thing that cuts through the clouds of your changing moods.

✧ Aragorn is the one who tells you not to be so hard on yourself, that you are doing an amazing thing and you are desirable as yourself, no more and no less. No need to hide yourself, no need to perform, no need to feel anything less than the beautiful soul you have always been. Remember, he tells you, he is going nowhere, and you will endure all together.

Legolas

✧ For so long had you and Legolas hoped for your little life, long enough of trial and hope that you’d all but given up until you felt a shift. Felt on the brink of illness at nearly all times, seeking healing for a mystery illness and leaving with news that had your husband holding you for minutes on end, tears sliding down his cheeks, and refusing to let go of your hand all day. Holding you like you might shatter, his other hand wrapped gently around your waist where his hand can brush the curve of your soon-to-be-growing belly. “We did it, my love. We will finally be three.”

✧ Your husband grows wistful, getting a distant look in his eyes before smiling and reminiscing on his younger days. “What demeanor shall our little one have, do you say? I would not mind having two of you,” he teases, while you say a child like him would be much easier!

✧ “Both of your little ones sound quite healthy.” “Both?” You are shocked, but Legolas’s grin never falters, nor does his surprisingly tight, hearty grip upon your shoulders. “Twins,” he keeps repeating in wonder throughout the day.

✧ You and Legolas have a bet running on the twins, if they are to be identical or not. You think they are both boys, while Legolas thinks he has a little girl waiting for him, too. “Wishful thinking,” you tease him. “Absolutely,” he agrees, smiling softly at you.

✧ As time passes, he does tease you about your waddle. “Shall I slow down a bit?” Cheeky prince, but that’s why you love him!

✧ Legolas’s eyes never fix you with anything but awe. He is simply amazed at all the wonders your body is capable of and what it endures. Even though that wonder also manifests as him almost constantly asking if you are alright, it is worth it when your husband looks at you as though captivated by a goddess.

Boromir

✧ Boromir caught you with your eyes bulging out of your head, not a single chance of delaying your discussion. Such news as you have just received can only be considered a blessing, and yet you still are shaken to the core with the spiking precursor of excitement and hope, hope that your husband would be happy. Your words burst forth the moment he took your hands, asking you whatever was wrong and nodding faster and faster with each step of your detailed medical visit. His smile grew and grew until he could hardly help himself, taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that more than assuaged your worries. “Why do you look so worried? Such a wonderful blessing was beyond anything I could imagine,” he tells you, a hand reaching to rest gently upon you.

✧ He all but tackles you to bed that night, kissing again and again your lips, your cheeks, and down finally to your belly.

✧ Boromir’s appreciation of your body never ceases your entire wait. His hands always caressing you, his words always sweet upon your ears, especially to cut through the deprecating ones your own lips utter. It baffles your husband that you cannot see how utterly glowing you are.

✧ One hundred percent though will he be teasing you about the odd cravings you get; even as he goes to fetch them he’s making faces, asking if you’re sure, joking about what strange taste the little one has.

✧ You suspect you are carrying a son while Boromir’s guess is a little girl. After you remind him that a mother knows, he rests a hand over your bump and replies with a teasing grin “Why can’t a father know as well?” “Because you do not have to carry him for the better part of a year!”

✧ One of Boromir's favorite things in this world is the sight of how his lent garments fit you tighter and tighter, bringing a twinge to both the loving and the possessive sides of his heart...and his hands to wrap around you or cup your cheeks and pull you into a kiss!

Gimli

✧ His intuition is off the proverbial charts. It is he who first makes any mention of your chances, stating you should not strain yourself in your condition. You are confused, you even protest, but in the end you have your little appointment and your husband has a smug little moment of ‘I told you so’ before the realization of just what he’d been sensing hits him, dropping his jaw and sending his arms flying about you, lifting you up into the air with a hearty laugh. “The mighty line continues! And thanks to such a beautiful lassie no less! You'll want for nothing, I promise you, and no harm'll come to either of you while I yet draw breath."

✧ Has strong opinions about how well you should be eating, so barring you being stricken with sickness Gimli will be making or otherwise providing for you the heartiest of meals, all the things he believes are necessary to raise up a strong little dwarfling. Thank the fortitude and solace of his people, but you are sick very little your entire journey with this and all other little ones you share!

✧ Given the strength of dwarven genetics, you both assume that you are expecting a boy; thus, your husband insists on crafting a tiny axe for him. “For when he’s older, of course!” Gimli assures you, waving his hands defensively.

✧ No worries about your pregnancy weight here- suffice it to say that a dwarf finds the extra pounds quite appealing and has no hesitation about showing you such!

✧ Any exhaustion you feel is the only thing that stops Gimli from taking you around to all his friends and loved ones and likely anyone else who will listen and announce that he has a child on the way!

✧ Nesting is a very strong instinct of his! Gimli builds and crafts by hand all of your baby's furniture and decor, even an adorable mobile of horses, little dwarves with pickaxes, and little effigies of your favorite animal all dangling above his crib! Leaning his head against your belly, he asks the baby "Well, what do you think? Only the finest for my little flame!"

Frodo

✧ Your husband wasn’t sure at first. Not sure if he would feel whole enough after all he endured to bring a life into this world, but you, oh, you… The one who brought life vividly rushing back to his heart, color returning to his life and comfort to his pain. One day a pang struck his heart and he realized it would mean the world if after it all he was able to create life, and more importantly to have something so amazing come of your love. Soon after you both eagerly hoped for the signs, and it took but a few months. Frodo worried you would be sick, but confirmation comes after weeks without your cycle, nothing more. For once, no pain shall come to Frodo Baggins or those he loves.

✧ Your health is his greatest concern, so much so in fact that Frodo has soon befriended practically every midwife in the Shire, melting them with his endearing eagerness to know all he can about your possible afflictions and what you need. His concerns soon gather you the proverbial village of help should you ever send Frodo off for something beyond his breadth.

✧ It breaks Frodo's heart when his nightmares or moments of panic coincide with your own fragile emotions for the first time, for he should be caring for you, not the other way around, but when you hold each other, tears soaking into the opposite shirt, he realizes that what you two have is an understanding and trust strong enough to fortify each other even in darkness.

✧ In case you were not already aware, you are so lucky in your choice of husband! Discussing names soon emerges into your conversation and it almost takes you aback how quickly agreements on a girl and boy name are reached!

✧ The one time during your entire wait for your little one that brings tears to Frodo’s eyes is the day you bring home a bolt of fabric and when he asks what it is for, you answer to make him and your new arrival matching garments.

✧ You catch him smiling widely at you, love glowing in his bright blue eyes as he watches you do even the smallest things, your little waddle or the way you practice folding diaper cloth. All you can imagine is those same eyes fixed upon a babe in his arms, shooting Frodo the same look right back.

Sam

✧ It seemed that every other conversation you shared with your beloved Samwise revolved around babies, so much so that your few still-unmarried friends had grown sick of it. Anyone with a baby in the Shire, though, knew who to look toward for care! You and Sam gushed over little clothes, little hands, went on for goodness-knows-how-long about how much you'd like a little Sam and he wants a miniature version of the loveliest girl he'd ever seen followed of course by you saying why not both? Sam loved life so much, saw beauty in growth and creation and every joy in it, so of course he wanted a big family and all his infectious sunshine on the subject just made you fall in love with him more and more. Months of trying passed, though, before you came to Sam in a daze, before you cupped his precious face in your hands and whispered to him we did it. Before he tackled you to the soft grassy ground and held you, weeping tears of joy and kissing your hands, your cheeks, finally your lips once he'd spoken how much he loved you.

✧ Takes to sleeping a bit lower, his head nuzzled against your torso. In the night you can feel his nose and lips ghosting over it and even hear little whispers when you both can't sleep, but you say nothing, letting Sam have his moments with the little one.

✧ The worry he has about everything the first time around. "Are you sure you can eat that? I don't want you to get sick." "Is that too heavy?" "Don't trouble yourself a mite when I'm right here, I'll bend over for it." "Alright, only if you're certain nothing will happen to the baby, sweetheart." As much as you want to remind him that you are still a fully functional woman, you know that Sam is an action man and this is his way of showing he cares.

✧ The meals he cooks you. You will be eating like a queen all because Sam wants to keep the baby strong, of course! As a bonus, it truly is like he knows what sets you off and avoids those things without even having to ask.

✧ “Imagine all the wee feet running through here,” Sam muses in bed one night, your head tucked in the crook of his neck. “The little hands grasping ours,” you add. “All the little ribbons we can tie in a girl’s hair.” “Taking your little boy out to the garden!” Once again, your friends act positively sick of how sweet you are, but inside anyone can see how deliriously happy you and Sam are and feel warmed by it.

✧ “When the time comes,” Sam always assures you, your hand tightly in his, “I’ll be right here. Wild horses could hardly drag your Sam away.”

Merry

✧ Your reveal is made a bit anticlimactic thanks to your husband’s teasing ways. “You’re knitting.” Glancing down at your work, you simply nod. “Yes.” “You never knit.” Merry’s eyes narrow. “Is it for somebody?” “If you must know,” you set your needles carefully in your lap and tease back, “this is for your child. Any complaints now?” “My child?” Jaw dropping, Merry looks at you like you’d just offered him the whole of Middle Earth. “That’s right,” your voice softens, even cracking a bit with emotion at the sight of his smile, “you’re going to be a father, Merry.”

✧ Merry’s adorable little habit of making you a pillow pile to lay on during your time of the month carries right through to your pregnancy. And of course it continues even when you remind him you’ll not be able to stand up from in because he will be right there to help you up!

✧ Because you've taken up knitting, Merry wheedles with all his charm and love and kisses an additional creation from you: a sweater made from the same yarn as baby's. "You are lucky to be so adorable," you tease him, looking up from your work to kiss his lovely lips. Maybe, you thought, a whole matching set for three would be in order, though…

✧ Another one who teases you, joking about how he is finally able to outrun you!

✧ The type of father to chastise the baby whenever they kick you too hard, lecturing to the front of your dress about hurting your mother and how that simply won’t do, then looking up at you with a humored smile.

✧ Compliments increase at least twofold upon your revelation, Merry never sparing the kindest words about your strength, certainly, but mostly your beauty. Never once during any pregnancy do you feel unloved, unwanted, unattractive, for even when your eyes can find no light within your reflection there your husband is practically worshipping every corner of your form.

Pippin

✧ Desire for a family was something that had drawn you two together as a couple, though you may have found yourself talking Pippin down from ten children! “Maybe start with five,” you would always tease him. So the moment your hypothesis is tested and confirmed, a grin you can’t remove spreads across your face and you run to collect everything for your surprise. Surprise is the only word you can use when Pippin opens his gift and sees the tiny knitted hat you’ve placed inside the box. “What is this for? Little small, is it not?” “If it was for us, perhaps.” It ended up taking you reaching out for his hand and resting it upon your lower belly for the massive grin to spread across his face, but once it does Pippin is laughing loudly and giddily, swinging you back and forth in ecstasy!

✧ Runs to get you whatever your need with barely an question. After all, who is he to say what it's like being with child, and if you want it, you shall have it. Hot water bottle? Certainly. A cup of tea? Of course. Three more pillows? Why, he'll strip your whole bed down. Panics a little if the request is to relieve pain, so prepare to hear a crash or the shuffle of a trip or two before you have the item in hand or on body.

✧ "What is this for?" "What are these?" Lucky you love him, your husband does have many a question of all the supplies you gather for after your new addition is welcomed. "Oh, to keep the hands safe? That makes sense." "Wait, you need to wear that... to catch the bloo- oh, my." He gulps. "I'm going out right now. I'm getting you a cake and some jewelry and some flowers and anything else you'd like."

✧ Can barely keep his hands to himself. Pippin was always the most affectionate husband you could ask for, but now? Now you two are practically a package set and nary can you travel without his arm around you, hand about your waist and gently running up and down over your little growing bump.

✧ Your baby seems to have inherited your husband’s personality, for even before the birth many signs of how active your little one is are present! Those poor ribs of yours will get kicked more than a few times with all the fluttering your little one stirs up inside of you! Pippin, of course, wants to feel it all and luckily he is never far from the scene. If he is, though, you bet he will run!

✧ Pippin is always laying with his cheek resting on your belly, talking to the baby about anything from how his day’s gone to how they have the most amazing and beautiful mother. Your heart can’t help fluttering every time.

Faramir

✧ Faramir has the most uncanny way of reading you like a book, a habit endearing as it is frustrating. Thus the moment he catches you smiling to yourself he is smiling back, approaching you with teasing question of what has you so happy. For once, though, you have the satisfaction of catching your husband off guard, resting your head against his shoulder and a hand upon his chest as you tell him you just cannot wait to see him as a father. "Someday, my love," he takes your hand and kisses it, "if I am so blessed." Giggling, you shake your head against him. "Blessed indeed! Someday shall be this fall," you answer, and peeling back from him you receive another spike of satisfaction at his wide blue eyes, the drop of his jaw and the race of his heart beneath your hand. "Are you certain?" You nod. This time, he takes both of your hands in his and with tears in his eyes thanks the heavens for you even as he shakily laughs, your bright demeanor never failing to put a smile upon his face. "Our child will be so loved." "I know."

✧ Your husband finds himself lost in reverie more and more often, drifting out of reality into some distant, but nowhere near out-of-reach, dream of your family, seeing you as a mother the most beautiful sight he can conjure.

✧ Faramir adores holding you from behind, his hands curled gently over where your bump forms and his head resting gently upon your shoulder, flowing hair tickling your cheeks and neck lightly.

✧ "One for each of us," is Faramir's joke when one of Gondor's finest medics grants you the knowledge that you are not expecting one child, but two. Your husband is there in the storms, the waves of anxiety rolling within you over being there for your twins. "You are not alone," he always reminds you, a hand joined with yours right over the twins' little hearts.

✧ If you wanted a husband who actually does his due diligence learning all he can about growing babies, birth, and postpartum care, then Faramir is another excellent choice! He’ll be spouting off facts about the whole thing ranging from what size the babies currently are to why you might have contractions after giving birth. Your mood determines whether you listen in or tell him to kindly stop.

✧ Just as with you, Faramir’s insecurities sometimes get the better of him, but they also fuel him, bringing a fire you can see to his fair eyes as he speaks with determination how he will love all his children equally.

Eomer

✧ Pride glows upon your countenance as you flit about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the roast you'd made for dinner. A kingly feast is in order, for not only had you heard your husband performed exceptional drills this day, but you yourself are the host of something exceptional. Eomer and you have been enjoying each other's company much these days, so the news is not so much of a shock as it is a celebration, exuberance at a line enduring, two dreams fulfilled as one, especially for your husband, who speaks often of how he longs for a full, boisterous home. Six if he's lucky. Well, you can hardly wait to help him along, pulling Eomer into your arms for an enthusiastic kiss before he can even toe his boots off, and when he chuckles and asks what has taken hold of his beautiful wife you let your news fly. Shouting for joy with abandon, Eomer lifts you up into his arms bridal-style, kissing your lips again and again. Dinner is all but forgotten as he kneels before you, holding your waist and pressing kisses all over the bodice of your dress and thanking you for making his day, nay, his life, perfect.

✧ Eomer is always proud of you, but the moment he finds out you are with child that feeling swells and positively drips off of him, every outing with him suddenly seeming quite like a chance for him to show you off. An arm around you at all times, a smile of great joy and satisfaction, news shared to all who dare make conversation with you both, and even kisses in public! Eomer is simply on top of the world and not a thing will topple his spirits.

✧ As somebody who never much studied the workings of women, though, Eomer is… a bit out of his depth. You will have to teach him some things like why your emotions swing so or what to look out for to know when your water breaks. This man has been in battle, seen heads roll in the most literal sense, and yet when you describe the eventual passing of your placenta his entire face contorts in a look of horror that has you all but doubled over in laughter.

✧ “You look so beautiful with child,” Eomer purrs, “we’ll have to do this again sometime.” You smack his arm, but cannot resist giggling at the way your husband still gives you butterflies.

✧ Your new addition had not even arrived yet and Eomer is commissioning a child-sized saddle, unable to contain his excitement as he describes all their future rides to you!

✧ As you dream up names, Eomer has many suggestions from the great halls of his own people, ancestors and great warriors alike, but making considerations of your own background is equally important to him, so he is more than willing to go back and forth for the perfect solution.

Eowyn

✧ No one had thought it possible, but they should have known. Impossible was not in Eowyn’s lexicon, and that was exactly why you loved her, one part within many of why you became her wife. And now, the healer confirmed you were carrying her child. …Very well, technically her banner-bearer’s child as the two of you had been forced to get a bit creative, but to have support and help from those who had begun with such uncertainty meant the world. Even Eomer had come around, having offered similarly, but of course you had to remind him that Eowyn wanted a child of her own, not a niece or nephew! Without Guthláf’s, er, donation, you would never bear witness to the broad and beautiful smile on your wife’s face, the tears glistening in the gorgeous blue of her eyes. “A child…” “Our child,” you add, leaning forward until your foreheads touched and noses brushed, a tearful smile upon your own face as your wife gently held your waist.

✧ Having worked so many times as a nurse lends well at least to Eowyn, for she is firm and unrelenting in her urging, nay, forcing, you to rest. No ifs, ands, or buts are to be accepted from your strong-willed beauty, let her dote on you, for she does it with great pleasure. And besides, the harder you fight, the harder she'll work to keep you lain down.

✧ Understanding the pain and symptoms of your time of the month completely also translates; thus Eowyn is ready with remedies for your aches and pains, hot water and herbs awaiting you. She rarely snaps back at your moods, choosing to be silent in the worst of times because she knows. Really, she does.

✧ She cooks for you, and whether you say anything about that or not likely depends on how willing to hide your honesty behind the hormone excuse if it is not taken well.

✧ Reminds you constantly how strong you are. In your lowest of moments, the times you struggle to stand and straighten your aching spine, feeling massive and utterly useless, Eowyn is there to hold your hand and tell you that you are hosting and creating life as she so speaks. You have made the ultimate sacrifice of your body and the greatest of pain to bring just as great a blessing to yourself and your wife. Far from useless, you are divine.

✧ “What does it feel like?” Resting her head on her hand, the one that wasn’t lain against your fluttering belly, she questions you as the baby kicks. “For you?” Part of her wishes to have this experience herself someday, while another takes your descriptions with trepidation. She does not enjoy being restricted, after all.

Haldir

✧ “Lie down, please, my love.” Haldir’s concern with your sickness increased daily as did the pain of seeing you feeling so weak and ill. You tried to push through and for as much as he loved your strength, your husband was not having it this time. Pride was not worth seeing you doubled over again, whether from pain or, arguably worse, illness. You relented in the end, resting and beneath the spinning of your head at the end of the day feeling not a seed of energy to protest an inspection. Healing herbs had you perking up a bit, and perked up you needed to be when the dark-haired, round-faced healer nodded sagely and with a wide smile told you you were with child, and these early days were likely to be the worst. For the first time in days the sobs that escaped you were accompanied by a smile, your face utterly breaking as Haldir held you against his chest, weeping too and thanking you for all you would endure for this blessing.

✧ Physically carries you places as often as he can be spared to do so. Lifts you up bridal-style to move you across your home and sits you up before he feeds you. Your illness brings out a tender, caring side you have never seen in your strong, stoic husband, but it makes your heart swell that much more for him and for the life you two are to have with your child.

✧ Another symptom you experience is the aching and swelling of your feet, but Haldir sits you down facing him and makes the best work of them he can, hands gentle as always as they soothe your skin.

✧ Even in the later months as your illness abates, though, your husband remains protective as ever, standing between you and any potential harm with the fiercest look upon his face and a hand upon your middle, even if the threat is an object you’ve hurt yourself on.

✧ The way shock melts into a wide, ecstatic smile unlike your husband’s typical demeanor when the healer repeats that yes, she could definitely hear two heartbeats beside yours is worth more than any gold in the world. Haldir pulls you into his arms, chuckling deeply. You feel his head shake slightly, slowly, atop yours in wonder.

✧ When you sleep, Haldir will always be holding you close, whether it is an arm draped over your bump loosely if you’re hot or need space or else you fully tucked into your husband’s warm embrace.

Galadriel

✧ Galadriel is actually the one who assuages your worries that your dream will not come true, having full faith in you as much as the magic of this world. And she is right, of course, confidence proven in the aid you receive from a member of her guard and even the way she knows it to be true before the healer even confirms the news. As much as she jokes about seeing a glow around you, the width of her beautiful blue eyes, the shine therein, tells you that your wife is as elated to hear it beyond a shadow of a doubt as you are: you are hosting a little life for you both to nurture.

✧ You being pregnant only aids in her mysterious nature. She can be convening in a council with the wisest of minds from afar and will use you as an excuse to step away at her will. "If you will excuse me. My wife is with child." They are not even aware she is married. Some of them may not understand how it all works, but before they can ask any clarifying questions Galadriel has already slipped away to be with you.

✧ One tendency you unwittingly adopt is falling asleep in the oddest of places, your exhausted body giving out upon its own terms. Always will you wake up draped in one of your wife’s shawls or blankets, however, no matter how odd the spot.

✧ Both of you can hardly resist the allure of tiny garments, smiling every time you see them. It also rings a bell of realization within your minds as you hold a tiny gown up to your midsection. Truly as you speak, there is a tiny body within you! What magic it is to be a woman!

✧ What magic indeed, you later reflect as another pain strikes your back not long after. Hosting tiny bodies came with all the assorted blessings and curses of your kind, one not long without the other. Sighing, you make to approach the chaise across the room and soon your wife is with you, moving its drapes aside and lowering you gently to its cushions, a soothing hand tracing up and down your aching spine.

✧ "I hope she looks like you," you both turn to each other and say simultaneously, mothers' intuition firmly aligned in your hearts, from which so much love for each other pours from, Galadriel immediately drawing you closer to press her lips to the crown of your head.

Arwen

✧ Elrond had been quite hesitant about your relationship with his daughter at first- were you the best choice for her? Could someone like you keep her safe? And how, of course, would she be given the child she so desired? Questions you yourself had posed to her, but she refused to listen, telling you her mind, and heart, were sealed. Little do you know, however, that all of Rivendell would come to love you as their own, see and praise the way you cared for Arwen, and in Lindir’s case even provide the healers with a chance at you giving your wife the family you both yearned for. The moment you tell her the healers’ method worked and she is to he a mother, you both are, her features lighten, taking on the wondrous joy of youth again as she grabs your face, falling onto you with a kiss of pure love.

✧ So accusing if you've overexerted yourself, leaning in closer with a look of sometimes-teasing, sometimes-serious scrutiny. "Surely you did not carry that up the stairs all by yourself, right?"

✧ Do not even bother trying to fake feeling up to anything, whatever the task, for Arwen can see right through you and will insist you sit down, taking your hands in hers. "Rest. You have your burden- let me take the others. My heart bears no ill."

✧ Her affection gets softer, light touches to your waist and hands resting over yours. One hand upon your hip or belly and one on your shoulder as you two sway gently, foreheads pressed together.

✧ Arranging your nursery is one of Arwen's favorite pastimes: painting a gorgeous meadow mural upon the wall, stitching a soft toy to lay within the crib, asking you which fabric you prefer for blankets.

✧ Your bundle of joy can make sleep difficult, but one silver lining Arwen points out in a low whisper one morning is how many sunrises you’ve now gotten to share with each other.

Elrond

✧ Reservations about having a fourth child so long after the others disappeared every time Lord Elrond caught sight of you holding a neighbor’s child or even just showing the loving care that had him convinced he would be well even marrying a second time at all. Every smile, every sweet thing you did, all of it came back to Elrond in a rush when you told him he was to become a father again. For once he did not feel too old, too tired, nothing but the elation of his every desire unfurling to him before his very eyes from your warm embrace. To be chosen as the father to your child was the greatest honor the lord of Rivendell could imagine.

✧ Your every ailment is minimal, for Elrond knows exactly what is best for each and every one. Nausea? The perfect tea blend awaits to calm the waves you feel. Aches and cramps? Your husband is happy to give you the most heavenly massage, his hands finding every needed spot as if by magic. A swell of emotion? He does not speak unless bidden to, simply holding you through sudden waves of tears, frustration, or both until he feels your body relax against his.

✧ Being married to an elf with the gift of foresight comes with the benefit of worries soothed, but also a joke shared between you both. For many a time you teasingly chastise him not to look too far and spoil the surprise of whether you have a son or daughter on the way!

✧ Standing behind you, Elrond rests his hands around your middle and presses a kiss to your cheek. Just when you think the bliss of this moment, of having your whole little new family all together within your husband’s arms, cannot increase is when Elrond shifts his hands, taking on the great weight you carry. Peering up into his soft blue eyes, your whole body deflates in a sigh of sweet relief as he holds you.

✧ He can never truly understand your experience, but Elrond has witnessed this process. All he wishes is to tell you all your pain shall pass, even the worst memories will fade and ease, but such words will sound insensitive, so all he does is continue to hold your hand and stand proudly at your side.

✧ One thing your husband cannot resist is showering your future little one with gifts, even jewelry for when they are a bit older and the tiniest circlet to place upon the beloved head, matching Adar's perfectly.

Want to meet the little ones? Part 2 coming soon 😉

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[camille-lachenille]

I was thinking about how, in fanfictions and in the fandom in general, Elrond is often depicted as a pure Noldorin lord, if not a die hard Fëanorian. And while I do enjoy Fëanorian!Elrond, the more I think about it the more I am convinced Elrond is not the fëanorian one of the twins. Elros is. Elros who adopted seven eight pointed stars as the heraldic device of his whole dynasty, a symbol still used 6000 years after his death. Elros who had Quenya be the official language of Númenor. Elros who decided to leave Arda for an unknown fate after his death; not Everlasting Darkness but not the rebirth in the bliss of Valinor either. He choose to go to a place Elves aren’t supposed to go, just like Fëanor and his sons went back to Beleriand. Elros, the mortal man, who decided to forge his own path in the world.

And I am not saying Elrond didn’t, because Eru knows how much strength, patience and stubbornness Elrond must have to become who he is in LotR. But when I first re-read LotR after reading the Silm, he did not strike me as Fëanorian at all (except for the no oath swearing rule that seems to apply in Rvendell). In fact, Elrond, and all three of his children, are defined by being half-Elven. Elrond is so much at the same time they had to creat a whole new category for him. He is described as kind as summer in The Hobbit, but also old and wise, and his friendly banter with Bilbo in FotR show he is also merry and full of humour. Elrond is both Elf and Man despite his immortality, and this is made quite clear in the text.

But. If I had to link him to an Elven clan, I’d say Elrond is more Sinda than Noldor, and even that is up to debate. Rivendell, this enchanting valley hidden from evil thanks to his power, is like a kinder version of Doriath. Yet, the name of Last Homely House and Elrond’s boundless hospitality make me think of Sirion: Rivendell is a place where lost souls can find s home, where multiple cultures live along each other in friendship and peace.

In FotR, Elrond introduces himself as the son of Eärendil and Elwing, claiming both his lineages instead of giving only his father’s name as is tradition amongst the Elves. It may be a political move, or it may be a genuine wish to claim his duality, his otherness, or even both at the same time. But from what is shown of Elrond in LotR, he seems to lean heavily in the symbols and heritage from the Sindar side of his family, rather than the Noldor one. I already gave the comparison with Doriath, but it seems history repeats itself as Arwen, said to be Lúthien reborn, chooses a mortal life. Yet Elrond doesn’t make the same mistake as Thingol by locking his daughter in a tower and sending her suitor to a deathly quest. Yes, he asks Aragorn to first reclaim the throne of Gondor before marrying Arwen, but this isn’t a whim on his part or an impossible challenge. Aragorn becoming king means that Middle-Earth is free from the shadow if Sauron and Arwen will live in peace and happiness. Which sounds like a reasonable wish for a parent to me.

Anyways, I went on a tangent, what strikes me with Elrond is his multiple identity. Elrond certainly has habits or traits coming from his upbringing amongst the Fëanorians, and he loved Maglor despite everything. The fact he is a skilled Minstrel shows he did learn and cultivate skills taught by a Fëanorion, that he is not rejecting them. There is a passage at the end of RotK, in the Grey Havens chapter, where Elrond is described carrying a silver harp. Is this a last relic from Maglor? Possible.

But while Elros choose the path of mortality and showed clear Noldorin influences in the kingdom he built, Elrond is happy in his undefined zone he lives in. He is an Elf, he is a Man, he is Sinda and Noldo and heir to half a dozen lost cultures and two crowns. He is the warrior and the healer, the only one of his kind in Middle-Earth. And that is why I will never tire of this character and I love so much fanworks depicting him as nuanced and multiple yet always recognisable as Elrond.

[erathene]

Sowing Seeds

Summary: Wound up by your mother’s incessant nagging, you reminisce over the ranger of the north you fell in love with. Aragorn helps in more ways than one.

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Aragorn x Female!Reader 

Warnings: This fic is rated mature. LOTS of Spice, sexual themes (flirting, touching, kissing, teasing). Mentions of pregnancy and conceiving a child. Mentions of sexual intercourse, but it is not explicitly described. 

AO3 Link: Sowing Seeds

Author's note: Thank you to @emmanuellececchi for being a wonderful Beta reader and taking time to provide feedback even when sick! You're the best 😘 Thank you also to @dancerinthestorm and @inkedmoth who cheered me on when I was documenting my creative process, you guys are awesome 🙂 This fic is also dedicated to anyone who has had the unsolicited question of “when are you having kids // when are you trying for baby #2”. Fertility and conceiving is a journey which looks different from person to person, and there are many versions of happiness that come with it. Enjoy ❤️

..........................

"My love?"

At the distant sound of your husband's voice, you glance up, the letter from your mother still clutched in your hand. You rise quickly, tucking the parchment back into its envelope and stuffing it hastily into a drawer of the writing desk.

"In here," you call back to him. Even after all these months of living in the royal quarters, at times they still feel enormous to you.

He rounds the door to the study and your eyes take in the full sight of him. He's sporting a crisp linen shirt and lightweight moss-green tunic, both of which are generously covered in dirt. His sleeves have been rolled up to the elbows, the dirt even more pronounced around his exposed forearms, down to his hands and fingertips. His breeches and boots fare no better, and there are particularly large patches of mud clinging to his kneecaps where he must have been kneeling in the fresh earth. There's also a slight sheen on his forehead which speaks of his toil.

He looks far more ranger than king today, more than you've seen in a long time. He looks... delightful.

"Been in the gardens again?" you muse, taking in his form with one eyebrow raised and a twitch at your mouth.

"Aye," he says, brushing one elbow where a patch of drying mud seems to bother him. "Our head gardener believes we will have the most spectacular blooms in the palace gardens ere the start of summer," he gushes passionately.

"I don't doubt it," you smirk, still looking him up and down, "with all the work you're putting in."

He flashes a quick smile in your direction. There he is. Your ranger. The dirt-ridden Dúnedain who was always traipsing from one corner of Middle Earth to another, ragged and rough-looking from the wilds and the woodlands, the scent of which lingered on every part of his being. You suddenly wished you were close enough to smell him, just as a flash of a distant memory crosses your mind; one of the two of you buried in each other's arms, his calloused hands running gently through your hair, your lips pressing against his, fully consuming him yet wanting more. The temporary burst of imagery in your mind is intense.

You blame your mother for this, her and her persistent letters which usually centre around the royal heirs that need to come forth sooner rather than later. She was quick to approve your match with long-lost-heir-to-the-throne-of-Gondor Aragorn, but much less approving of Strider and his ranger ways. Indeed, if he had stepped over her threshold in his current state, she would likely throw him out and tell him to go bathe in a horse trough before showing his face at her doorstep again.

He somehow seems to partly read your mind. "I'll go change into something more--"

"Don't," you interrupt him quickly. The last thing you want him to do is change.

You slowly cross the room to where he is standing with a slightly bewildered look on his face, the light chiffon of your dress trailing behind you across the carpets. It's a loose-fitting gown, one of the more casual garments from your wardrobe, the colours well-suited to the warming spring weather. With no royal engagements today, you had deliberately chosen it over the tighter, more formal frocks that now seemed to be overflowing from every armoire in your chambers.

What happened to the simple leggings and cotton blouses you used to wear? What was ever wrong with them?

"What troubles you?" Aragorn's voice is calm and quiet as you approach, despite the crease in his brow. Ever the doting husband, he instinctively knows that something has irked you. 

"Nothing of great significance... My mother and her nagging," you shrug shyly with a roll of your eyes.

"And what has she to say, pray tell?" He traces the backs of his knuckles along your upper arm, up to your shoulder and the strap of your dress, so gentle it barely touches your skin.

You look up into his deep, grey eyes. "Please, I do not want to think about my mother right now." Your voice is hovering somewhere between a whisper and a moan. He doesn't stop caressing your arm. "She's on about… that subject again."

His eyebrows lift in surprise. "Has she rescinded her opinion of me? To be posing the question to you so openly and so often?"

You snicker at the thought. "I don't think she will ever move past the fact that her only daughter went chasing after a ranger of the north. She missed out on the opportunity to play matchmaker." Yes, your mother would have loved to have been the one to set you up with some petty lord with the promise of new trade links for your homeland and a sizable dowry for your family's coffers. 

Aragorn hummed to himself, his head tilting sideways as he considered this fact. "Is the King of Gondor not enough for her?" he says, stretching his arms wide in jest.

"Enough of that talk, Telcontar," you scoff, using his chosen house name against him. "You married a strong woman; unfortunately for you, she comes with an equally strong mother-in-law."

"Well," he breathes softly, wrapping his soiled hands around your own, "loathe as I am to do something to appease your mother, the idea of you, round and brimming with our child, does sound very appealing to me." He lifts your hands to his chest where your finely-crafted silver wedding band gleams in the bright sunlight. "A little Telcontari of our own," he murmurs, placing a kiss on your ring finger.

You cannot help your coy smile. "Only the one?"

His fingertips reach for a stray strand of your hair that dangles beside your cheek, and he carefully tucks it behind your ear. "However many you want, my love." His giant hand moves from your hair to your jawline, his thumb inching towards your mouth.

His words are deliberate and astute; many times you have mentioned your childhood spent amongst your large family, and there is little doubt he is not aware of your desire for a generous brood. Yet you cannot stop the flirtatious back talk that slips from your open mouth. "You may come to regret that," you say, before biting your lip and locking his gaze.

A smile quickens across his features. "I think I ought to be the judge of what I regret saying to my wife."

It almost sounds like a challenge.

Strong, muscular arms pull you in closer as he speaks, embracing you, his palms settling into the small of your back. He holds you regally, his touch firm yet gentle, as though you're the answer to every prayer he's ever spoken in tortured whispers to the divine. You are his queen, and he intends to treat you as such; he lays a tender, drawn-out kiss on your forehead where the Gondorian diadem would normally be resting on your brow. He is practically worshipping you.

Yes, it's good. But receiving the royal treatment is not on your agenda today. What you are looking for, what you need, is the ranger in him. You need Strider.

Your next move catches him somewhat off guard. You press your palms to his chest and push him backwards, driving him into the wall with a gentle thud. His eyes betray his curiosity, but he shouldn't be surprised; after all, it was he who trained you in hand-to-hand combat when you joined the northern rangers. You begin your assault, placing kisses along his collarbone and up his neck to where, eventually, you come to the skin beneath his ear where you know he is most sensitive. He confirms you have found his weakness with a low, gravelly moan that rumbles his throat. It gives you the confidence needed to push on, to be bolder. Your hands trail from his chest to the nape of his neck, up into his hair, your fingertips massaging his scalp before pulling his lengths taught. You smirk into his skin when he lets out a second moan.

You should have known better than to think your touch would disable him and this time, it's you who is caught off guard. He sweeps your legs out from under you and wraps them around his waist, spinning you around, lifting you up against the same wall he had his back to moments ago. The breath is driven out of your lungs as he pins you there. He gives you a look, his eyes holding a hunger like he's absolutely starved of you, and you know you're about to learn exactly what regret means.

His lips take to your mouth and he's a man on a mission; to satiate every whim, every desire, every need that you awoke within him and he will not allow himself to rest until he has achieved it. His kiss is wild, passionate, and his broad hands explore your body freely, taking in every contour and curve you have to offer him. You finally figure out how to draw breath again and you inhale his scent, the blissful smell of gardens and disturbed earth washing over you.

It's not hard for you to picture him the way you fell in love with him; a worn travelling cloak hanging from his well-built shoulders which also bear his pack, bow and bedroll, prepared and ready for whatever the world throws his way.

He breaks away momentarily, muttering something incomprehensible about how sweet you taste, before his lips meet your own once more. He consumes you as though you're the first proper meal he's had after weeks on the road. Your breath catches in your throat as he nips at your bottom lip in his frenzy, yet your reaction only encourages his mouth; further kisses are placed along your jawline, one after another like trailing footprints, inching their way to your neck, where his teeth sink into yet more of your flesh and begin to gently suck. He knows just as well as you do that it will leave a bruise. A claim to mark his territory. 

His hands return to roaming about your thighs, tugging at the fabric of your dress, searching for his prize. You know exactly what he wants. However, your full-length gown is awkwardly caught around your knees, the chiffon unwilling to stretch, blocking his access. His fingers switch to tugging at the fastening at the back of the dress, impatient and restless. 

Frustrating as it is to tell your husband to stop, your conscience knows you must. Breaking away from his touch, you hiss a command. "Not here, Aragorn.” You have been working hard to build a trusting relationship with your household staff in recent months, and goodness knows what would happen if one of them were to catch their king and queen in the act of procreation right here on the study floor. The poor elderly head housekeeper would likely faint with shock.

He tries to protest, the disappointment evident in his longing eyes, but you press your index finger to his lips.  "And not with those filthy hands either. Wash them first, then meet me in the bed chamber." You pause, taking a moment to lean in to whisper in his ear, "and there, you can remove whatever you want." Your seductive tone makes the prospect sound even more inviting to him than it already is.

Aragorn sighs, allowing a curse to slip through his lips. He releases your thighs and they slowly drag against his soiled breeches until your feet return to the floor. You pull away and turn towards your chambers, but not before taking a moment to look back at your husband; he's gaping at you like a fool, completely caught in your trance, so you intentionally allow the strap of your dress to fall from your shoulder. You know it's all he can do to keep his feet planted where he stands and not curse you again for being such a tease. As a final provocation, you run your tongue across your bottom lip before sauntering away, your hips deliberately swinging from side to side as he watches you leave. The palace gardens are not the only place Aragorn will be sowing his seeds today, it would seem. 

[faeriichaii]

Hey so I know this isn’t the most original idea but could you do a mutual pining Legolas x reader where reader braids his hair without knowing the significance?

For some reason I haven’t been able to find any of em recently but it is my absolute favourite thing to read 😔😔

Softest Touch ~ Legolas x Reader

A/N: that's also my favorite prompt ngl :) Anything that has to do with brading makes my heart melt haha. Btw thank you so so much for requesting <33 I appreciate it a lot :) I really hope you like the story!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 933 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: After looking at the etheral elven prince, you have the urge to weave your fingers through his silken hair, leading to more than just simple hair braiding.

Sitting on a log in front of the fire, you thank Sam for the soup he just handed you. Taking a spoon full of one of the rare warm dinners you get on your journey, you look at all of the other companions gathered around. Boromir playing around with Pippin and Merry while Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas sat on the log opposite of yours. Your eyes stop at the elven prince for a little too long, fascinated by his beauty. The light of the fire giving him a golden glow making him look even further ethereal than he already was. You noticed your growing fondness for Legolas weren’t just friendly feelings towards a companion as he once helped you out with your aim. Since then, it became almost a routine. After dinner, the both of you always decided to go a little further away from the company to practice your aim with the arrows (that you also carve together) and sometimes share a few stories of your past.

Finishing up your soup, you decide to join the other three on the log for a quick chat. Legolas notices you first and gives you a soft smile, before scooting over to make some room for you. Sitting down beside him you notice your close proximity and feel the familiar warmth spread to your cheeks. Looking at his side profile you see his beautiful white hair, which almost seems to glow due to the light source in front of you. The way his hair falls over his back makes it look like the softest of silk and you wish to run your fingers through it. “Legolas, I have been wondering if I could maybe braid your hair?” Gimli spits out his soup while Aragorn lets out a cough. Confused at their reaction about your request you look at them bewildered. Legolas cheeks were dusted in a soft pink as he clears his throat. “That sounds lovely.” Gimli abruptly stands up and staggers away, followed by Aragorn, who politely excuses himself.

Grinning at him, you stand up from your seat at the log and take your place behind him. Weaving your hands once through his hair you realize how soft it really is. You open the braid by his ear carefully, not to hurt him before deciding on a small herringbone braid. Parting his hair into two sections, you softly start to intertwine the strands together, sometimes accidentally brushing your fingers against his pointy ear. At the soft touch he accidentally lets out a gasp. “Are you alright?” You ask him, worried that you might have hurt him. “Yes, don’t worry.” Finishing up the braid, you move back in front of him and take a look at his face. A smile graces his lips before he thanks you.

The days have passed and you notice that Gimli, as well as Aragorn, seem to have started to call you ‘Your Highness’ as well as ‘Your Majesty’. You didn’t think much about it, until one night, during your watch. You looked up at the moon, while being perched onto one of the logs in front of the fire that has been put out since a few hours. The sound of footsteps nearing you made you look up at the source. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Legolas says, before taking a seat beside you. Smiling at him you nod softly. Looking at his side profile, you notice the braid you had done a few days ago, still in tact and untouched. “Do you want me to rebraid your hair for you?” He hums softly at your question, signalling you to redo it once more. Opening the braid, you start weaving through the strands again. “I have a question I would like to ask you.” You mutter from beside him, completely focusing on his hair. “Do you know why Gimli and Aragorn suddenly call me by royal endearments?”

The elven prince chuckles softly before turning towards you after the braid is finished. “Well let me braid your hair and I can explain their behaviour.” Turning around you let Legolas comb his fingers through your hair, before he decides to start braiding on a small section. “You know, in my culture braiding is a very important and intimate gesture.” He starts, making you blush at his words. “Normally we only braid or let our hair be braided by someone we would like to court.” You gasp softly at the realization that dawns upon you. “I- I’m sorry I didn’t know.” You rasp out, turning around after Legolas is done with his braid. “Does that mean you don’t wish to court me?” He asks, tilting his head slightly. A bright blush creeps up your cheeks before you shake your head. “No I- I mean yes I do.” You look down at your hands, beginning to play with your fingers.

“I do have feelings for you Legolas. If I would have known that braiding indicates my feelings, I would have just done a better job at braiding your hair.” His laugh makes you look up at him, before he puts his hand on your cheek. “You now have enough chances to braid my hair Meleth Nin.” His thumb softly brushes against your cheek before he leans in. Meeting him halfway, your lips brush against each other in a soft kiss. Wrapping your hands around his neck you lean even closer towards him. The warmth of his body encasing you, making you feel like this is just a dream. Breaking apart you both smile softly at each other, basking in the moonlight above.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship and if i’d punch them in the face and likelihood of me doing so:

note: i have punched people in the face exactly two (2) times in my life. once when we were kids i decked my sister on the trampoline and most recently i hit a friend in my sleep when reaching for my alarm in a dazed state. the likelihood of me punching anyone in the face, intentionally and maliciously is very, very slim.

frodo: no. if i would not punch most people and frodo is a representation of “most people” i cannot see myself punching him. also i feel as if any disagreements would be felt verbally and swiftly, and an agreement would be met rather quickly. he seems like a reasonable guy. 3/10 i do not feel as though it would happen or that if given the chance i would proceed

sam: no. is a really good friend and person. least punchable out of the hobbits and i feel like if we’d got in a fight it would end up with dirt being flung at each other not punches. worse case scenario i feel like if we really got into it it would be passive aggressive or cast-iron based bludgeoning. 2/10 would not harm a hair on this man’s toes

merry: no. he has little cousin energy- i’d give him a noogie and pinch his cheeks but never sock him in the face. i could see us roughhousing and maybe even exchange blows but in the face? nah. just look at the little guy. i love his lopsided lil smirk. 4/10 limited fisticuffs, nothing serious

pippin: yes. he seems like he needs a good face full of knuckles and who am i to deny him. especially when he was younger. i like the dude but it just seems like something that would happen. im sure gandalf would slip me a pocket full of coins after. 8/10 would clobber this fellow

legolas: yes. almost certainly. would i get shot to shit by a million arrows? oh absolutely, but that would not stop me. i’m going at that man like a balrog out of moria. i don’t know why exactly i want to punch this pretty boy so bad but i know i do. 9.5/10 would punch again

gimli: no. one of least punchable of the fellowship in my eyes- one, because he would absolutely body me if i so much as raised a hand and two because i would never. he’d have to say some pretty insane shit to even get me to consider. 1/10 no jabs ever exchanged

gandalf: maybe. it can go either way. on the one hand, he is an immortal demi god who has been through hell and back so what’s one more fist to the face- on the other hand he takes the form of a grandpa which means i’d have a harder time mentally. however i’m naturally predisposed to punching wizards so given the right opportunity, yes. 5/10 chance of slugging

aragorn: no. he’d drop kick me to valinor before i could even raise my fist. also, he just seems like a chill guy. i feel like the only possible reason id ever even consider fighting this man is if i needed to die honorably very quickly and by a noble hand or if i had a chance at winning arwens hand, like a joust for the princess of sorts. i’d still lose, though. 2/10, id absolutely miss any hit thrown his way. complete biffage.

boromir: no. i’d let this man punch me and thank him for it. he is a fundamentally like able dude. how could i harm this beautiful man, a single father of two full grown adult hobbits. i just have so much love for him in my heart that i can’t even imagine raising a hand against him. 0/10 will not lay a finger on this lovely large lad.

gollum: yes. id punt this little bastard across mordor in my sleep. unprovoked. i hate his crust nails and his black hole of a loincloth. i feel bad for him, sure, but not bad enough to stop me from giving him a good ol fashioned wallop. 12/10 im gonna beat him up with my own two handsies, precious.

[tathrin]

A Gimleaf Thought:

Dwarves for whom their braids are a huge aspect of their identity and presentation, and which are consequently considered Not Appropriate to touch casually unless you are on very intimate terms. Stroking a dwarf's beard-braid in public in more than the lightest and most fleeting of touches would honestly be more inappropriate than just reaching down and grabbing their cock, it's on that level of intimacy, right?

Elves whose ears are extremely sensitive, not just in the keenness of their hearing but in terms of touch, too. (Yes, Viggo, this one is for you.) Throw in some social aspects of the importance of song to elvish life and spirits (this world was literally Sung into existence, remember, and the elves are very bound to this world and its Song) and you end up with a similar situation, where touching an elf's ears is like the most intimate gesture ever. Not something you would do casually, or to anyone you weren't on like...imminent-betrothal-level terms with at least. With me so far?

Well: Gimli does not know this about elves. Legolas does not know this about dwarves.

The first time Legolas starts toying with Gimli's beard, it's as much idle curiosity as anything: elves like pretty hair, and pretty braids, and Gimli's beard is very pretty. (And he asked Galadriel for her hair! and got three strands! so clearly Talking About Pretty Hair is something they can both appreciate, and thus bond over!) Gimli goes BEET red not that Legolas notices because he hasn't figured out that only elves blush with their ears yet but is too shocked to muster even a token protest, and by the time he remembers how to breathe it's too late, Legolas has already been talking for ten minutes about how nice Gimli's hair is and can he teach him some of those braids they look neat...? and Gimli can't possibly bark at him to stop touching them now, can he? That would be rude. And anyway, Legolas clearly has no idea what fondling a dwarf's beard implies, and there are no other dwarves around to see him now, so it's harmless. It means nothing. Nothing.

Meanwhile the first time Gimli touches Legolas's ears, it's to flick one of them in jest as he teases him for being able to hear a butterfly yawn from forty leagues, you silly creature! Legolas also flushes, dark enough that his brown ears look like they've been dipped in some of his father's favorite wine, but he's never been that good at saying things delicately anyway, and he doesn't want to rebuff the dwarf when Gimli clearly has no idea the implications of what he's just done or the fact that Legolas is shivering all the way from the tips of those ears down to his toes right now and it would be rude to explain now, when Gimli has already moved on to his next clever jest, so Legolas just blushes and lets it go, it's not like Gimli will be able to reach his ears often so he doesn't need to worry about it...

Only somehow they seem to keep finding spots where the road dips and curves, or there's rubble to sit on, and then the mines are just full of broken stones at convenient heights; and then they end up in a boat together, where Gimli can absolutely reach them; and well at least they're not in Lórien now so nobody is around who will know what that means, so Legolas doesn't have to avoid his hands anymore; and then they end up on a horse together, and his ears are even more easy to reach now; and then they're resting on the wall of the Hornburg waiting for the orcs to come and it's very comforting, actually, to have Gimli's hands stroking his ears like that, callused yes but so soft and gentle; and by the time they get to Gondor it's far too ingrained a habit to stop...not that Legolas wants him to.

Meanwhile, of course, Aragorn and Gandalf know EXACTLY what both braids and ears mean to both dwarves and elves, and they spend weeks gossiping together in quiet Quenya about it, and taking bets on what will happen when one or the other one of them cottons-on to what that means to the other one, and who will find out what first, etc etc.

(When Gandalf meets the Three Hunters again in Fangorn, the state of those bets is one of the first thing he asks Aragorn to fill him in on during the ride to Edoras because all wizards are gossip queens.)

And then the Grey Company shows up, with Elladan and Elrohir, and Legolas watches his whole long life flash before his eyes when Gimli reaches up to give his ear a caress—a friendly and completely platonic caress of course, it's not like he knows what that gesture means, he couldn't possibly have figured it out and be doing it on purpose now, don't be absurd you silly elf—right where they can see it!

Gimli suffers much the same experience when over the campfire that night Halbarad casually mentions all the dwarves he's befriended during his time as a Ranger, why Gimli he even knew your dad back when you were all living in the Blue Mountains, nice to see you've gotten your journeyman braid I bet that made Glóin very proud...

Gimli goes as red as Legolas's ears, and then as pale as Saruman's robes. Aragorn silently curses that Gandalf isn't here to see what comes next (he is going to gripe so hard when he finds out he missed the big reveal!) and holds his breath, waiting to discover who's about to win (and lose) all those bets...

[rivendell-poet]

Hello! If it’s not too much to ask, can I request platonic headcanons for the Fellowship with a female reader that’s a human teenager? She’s not as good as fighting as them, and at first glance she seems approachable and easygoing, but she’s clever and can oftentimes outwit her opponents with creative combat moves. She’s also sort of a little sister to them, albeit a quite reckless and charming one.

I just love platonic LOTR because I feel like they would all be such great friends in their own way :’) Please take your time with this request, and I wish you a lovely day/night ❤️

Hey anon, so sorry it took me this long to answer but I hope you enjoy! I'm absolutely a sucker for platonic Lord of the Rings fiction, all of the characters are so sibling-coded! You have a lovely day/night too, and thanks so much for requesting!

*･༓˚✧❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Wordcount : 2.1k

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ Years of putting up with being the younger brother of the twins has finally paid off.

✧ Never truly got the appeal of younger siblings until you came around.

✧ (Understands better than most that family is not just blood, but is based on who you choose and who you want to be around. Genuinely hopes he falls under that for you.)

✧ Worries about you but tries not to make it obvious, checking up on you in a more casual way like slowing his walking speed so he can be in time with you then ask about your day.

✧ Understands that your skills mean you should be in this fellowship - but did you have to give him a heart-attack after almost not parrying the cave troll? Poor man is already trying to keep up with the hobbits, and now you.

✧ Does admire the creativity you use in your attacks and is quick to praise it, occasionally shares anecdotes of his less-than-ordinary ‘weapons’ and how he used them.

✧ Subtly tries to get you to pick up more combat skills by offering to spar with you when Boromir spars with the hobbits.

✧ Is a very patient teacher, willing to go over things multiple times and demonstrates what to do very well.

✧ Does not appreciate the recklessness either; you have made him realise just how much he needs to apologise to Elrond and the twins for his youth. Tries to stop you from doing it under the guise that you’re ‘encouraging the hobbits’.

✧ You realise this is a ruse when he tells you it at Helm’s Deep, with precisely no hobbits to be found. Aragorn does not apologise for this.

✧ Notices you actively being charming and takes you under his wing in that regard, teaching you about diplomacy.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas doesn’t understand just how young you are until the topic of the Fellowship’s ages comes up and you’re the youngest by a decade. Doesn’t think this is a big deal until he sees Boromir do a slight double-take.

✧ Talks with you after and realises the age, you try and reassure him with the ‘I’m mature for my age’ and he doesn’t accept it.

✧ Firmly next to you for the first few days after it, although he doesn’t baby you - he’s just overprotective.

✧ Feels bad about not realising previously.

✧ Is a single child, to a single father, so doesn’t really realise how closely he regards you as family until he starts teaching you elvish words and family comes up. How the first words he thinks of, that he believes you should know, are ‘brother’ and ‘little sibling’.

✧ Does one of his odd elven stares at you with this realisation. You ask him and he blinks before apologising, stating it’s an elf thing.

✧ You don’t believe it and ask Aragorn. The ranger looks from you to Legolas, sees the worry in Legolas’ eyes, and decides on mercy by backing it up.

✧ Insists on teaching you archery. Isn’t sure whether to be impressed or offended when you stab an orc with an arrow instead of shooting it. It works… he supposes.

✧ Never slips up until he’s introducing you to his father in Elvish, and accidentally calls you his younger sibling instead of his friend.

✧ You know just enough elvish to realise what he’s said (combined with the look on Thranduil’s face) and smile. Then ask him later if he could have given you that realisation anywhere except in front of his father.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Immediately loves you for your charm, and the fact you engage in deep conversation with him instead of assuming all dwarves only speak basically and are incapable of eloquence.

✧ Certainly teaches you a lot when it comes to charm and wit, and by the end of your journey your speaking with a few too many dwarf idioms for a human teenager.

✧ Would totally be willing to teach you Khuzdul if you wanted to. Refuses to tell you what the terms of endearment he calls you are (‘little treasure’, ‘spark’, and sometimes ‘younger sibling’)

✧ Is very grateful none of the rest of the Fellowship know enough about dwarven culture to call him out on the little things he does for you, like making sure your weapons are polished to an immaculate degree or keeping your food warm for you using rocks.

✧ Offers to braid your hair for you before Helm’s Deep, both grateful you don’t understand dwarf customs and not.

✧ (He’d be much too embarrassed to offer you his familial braid if you knew what it meant).

✧ When you ask to braid his hair he helps you create a unique braid, with dwarvish meaning. That’s how you figure out what the braid he gave you means.

✧ As long as you’re winning your fights he doesn’t care how you’re using a weapon - he still admires good tactics.

✧ Complains that teenagers are too busy growing awkwardly to use the proper dwarven techniques of fighting.

✧ Laughs a bit too much when he tries to teach you his style and you fall over while trying to swing his hammer in a circle.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Literally an older sibling. Adopts Merry and Pippin in all but law, and will do exactly the same to you as well. You have little choice in this manner.

✧ Shows his affection to you mainly by spending time with you and listening to you because that’s what he’s always done with Faramir. However he’s fairly observant, and if he can tell you’d rather be doing something else (like whittling or scouting) he’ll happily do that.

✧ Cares more about the fact he’s spending time with you than what he’s doing with that time.

✧ Also has a minor heart attack when he realises how old you are. Knows he’s had recruits the same age as you, but this is different. He’s not actively trying to lead those recruits with him to Mordor.

✧ Very good combat teacher, as it was his job for a while. Best with a sword and shield but will adapt to your weapon of choice, he can use pretty much all of them.

✧ After he witnesses you mess up a sword-thrust and almost gets impaled he gives you his shield. You protest, and he says you can give it back to him once you’ll be able to protect yourself without him.

✧ Highly complimentary of your wit in battle, is aware of how often people overlook wisdom in combat compared to brute force (*cough, cough* Denethor) and makes sure you’re praised enough for your actions.

✧ Often speaks about introducing you to Faramir and how he hopes you’ll like each often, shares a lot of anecdotes from when the two were younger. (Has very occasionally called you his brother’s name by accident.)

✧ Tries to make sure you spend time on your journey exploring the world, like Rivendell, so that you can keep your sense of wonder. Hopes you’ll retain it even after everything.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Closest in age to you, which he very much appreciates. Hobbits generally aren’t considered adults until their thirty (and he’s only twenty-nine) so jokes about the two of you being so much better than all the old corpses over here.

✧ Tries to convince you to make fun of Boromir and Aragorn’s age with him. One of his ways to cheer you up is to point at the ranger and simply say ‘old’.

✧ Did that once to Gandalf, and then never again to Gandalf. (Also tries to get you to help him with Gandalf.)

✧ In an odd way, you not being especially skilled in combat is quite comforting to him - it’s nice to know there are folk outside the Shire who sometimes struggle with this as well.

✧ Complains in a joking manner when he sees you use skill to fend off goblins and that you lied to him.

✧ “You told me you weren’t that good at combat, not that you’re a tactical genius!”

✧ Wants to offer you pipeweed but isn’t sure if you should be able to have it. Boromir and Aragorn disagree. Goes with whatever you decide (although also would never pressure you into smoking if you don’t want to).

✧ Is genuinely disappointed when he doesn’t become taller than you after the ent draft. Insists life is unfair, and that you should be down on his level.

✧ Asks if you’ll help him and Merry finally bring down Boromir honourably. (Fails to see that you coming up behind the warrior would not be considered honourable.)

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Treats you a lot like he does Pippin, in that he’s very open with you, one of his main goals is to make you laugh, and he constantly looks out for you.

✧ Also nicknames, tries so many nicknames. Even if your name can’t be shortened he still gives you one, it’s just more nonsensical. Will see you’ve got slightly more radish in your soup than everyone else and call you ‘rad’ for the next day. Sees nothing wrong with what he is doing.

✧ Very excited to discover the Shire love for mischief and pranks is present in humans as well - or at least in you.

✧ Pippin tries to persuade you to play pranks on Merry with him, but you always side with the latter.

✧ Will not allow you to criticise your combat skills - even if it’s constructive and not self-deprecating. (“No, the orc literally almost took my arm off Merry.” “Well, with that attitude it certainly almost did!”)

✧ Tries to initiate sparring matches between you and Boromir by seeing you standing next to each other and shouting ‘fight’.

✧ This fails to work because two hobbits shouting at you isn’t intimidating, and there aren’t enough of them to circle you. He did once manage to convince Legolas to join in the chanting, however.

✧ Spends a lot of time climbing the scenery to get elevation so he can hug you without you bending down.

✧ Tells Éowyn everything about you, and is very complimentary.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Takes care of you in much the same way he takes care of Frodo. Gandalf may not have made him swear to protect you, but he’s certainly going to anyway.

✧ Often asking if he can mend any clothing that’s gotten torn, and when you get it back you’ll find a small piece of embroidery next to where he’s repaired the garment for you.

✧ It’s generally whatever you’ve been talking about and has made you smile the most in your conversations.

✧ Sometimes feels a little awkward trying to protect you, seeing how he’s only a hobbit and you’re a big folk - but he does his best.

✧ Tries to get you and Frodo to stay together so he can protect both of his friends at the same time.

✧ When he sees you fall behind in combat, he’ll sometimes offer to spar. He knows it’s not much but it puts a smile on your face and that’s what matters.

✧ Cheers you on if you spar with Boromir.

✧ Always makes sure you and Frodo have the best bits of the food. Vehemently denies this if confronted by either of you.

✧ Worries about you being on the journey, seeing how young you are, but if Frodo has put his faith in him then Sam will certainly put his faith in you.

✧ Also very complimentary of your creative thinking in combat, you can sometimes hear him talking to the other hobbits about it (absolutely with a tone of reverence/awe).

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Probably the most grateful that you’ve come of anyone, and the second most understanding family doesn’t have to be blood.

✧ Even though Bilbo is technically just his uncle he knows they behave much closer. And when he meets you he realises that family truly isn’t about blood at all.

✧ Most used to you being human, he’s spent time with Gandalf, so he knows how to talk to you and is the quickest of the hobbits to warm up to you.

✧ He’s also the first to acknowledge he sees you as a sibling, while talking about you visiting the Shire.

✧ Instantly stops and pauses to see if you’re alright with what he just said before continuing, slightly more embarrassed but still enthusiastic.

✧ After discovering Sting he’s very willing to try sparring you, and the two of you try and learn together.

✧ He’s similar in that he tries to rely on smarter moves to beat the goblins, but often talks about yours with good-natured envy.

✧ The two of you share tricks after each battle, or at least tricks that are applicable.

✧ Often likes to sit with you and Sam when the ring is particularly bad, because you help centre him. Help remind him what he’s fighting for.

A/N : Thanks for reading, and thanks again for the request! I do love platonic lotr, so feel free to keep requesting that! Also, I now have a taglist - so that's fun. If you wish to join, feel free - and no pressure if not. Really like the idea of a reader who struggles with sword-work but is creative, so honestly might expand on that as well.

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

[maximwtf]

Hello person- I must say I love reading your lil fanfics always keeps me busy when It's in the middle of the night and I can't sleep lmao.

If I may, if you are still accepting requests- A Legolas x reader, where the reader isn't aware of a custom that elves have about braiding their hair and basically just accidentally confesses to him when they get bored one day and just start braiding his hair and only finds out when the Fellowship congratulates them for confessing or something along those lines hehehe

Legolas x reader

words: 1930

google docs pages: 3

warnings: none? fluff :D 

opening: One day while you’re bored, you begin to braid Legolas’ hair, unaware of its meaning to the elves. It’s only later, when you find out the message behind it. 

AN// Thank you so much for this request, love the idea! (this also gives me a reason to not write the other ideas I've been putting off xd) idk if this is a little ooc, but I hope it’s okay^^ It’s also lovely to hear that you enjoy my work!^^ Reader can be any gender !

         “A time for congratulations?”

It hadn’t been long since you had joined the fellowship from Rivendell, like most of the others had too. The only one you knew better than the others was Legolas. Him you had met more than a few times in the past, mostly as an accident, but you did genuinely enjoy his company. You’d never admit it to anyone in the group, but you were happy that he had been the one from Mirkwood to join. You heard it had been his father who had suggested befriending Aragorn to him, and it was when Legolas had begun to look for Aragorn that he had met you. Aragorn you had only met a few times, and back then only knew him as “strider” like most. The others you had only met when the Fellowship had been formed, but all of them had seemed okay. 

Now, trailing behind Legolas, you examined your surroundings silently. Old trees with roots going all across the forest blocked the view on your right and on the left only a few trees were growing, enjoying the sun they were able to get. The trees on the left casted dark shadows on the almost non existent road you were walking on. Gandalf had seemed to be very certain that there was a trail going here, but you weren’t so sure. But since no one else had doubted him, you had decided to just follow along. At least you weren’t going to get lost alone.

As your gaze moved from left to right, amazed by the sturdy old trees, being able to stand for such a long time, you noticed Legolas turning to look at you for a moment. It was only for a split second, but it made you humm to yourself. Perhaps he was happy to see you too. It was rarely that you could spend more time with him, mostly just short bump ins every now and then. He was a prince, and probably had a lot to do.

The group seemed to have noticed the darkened shadows of the trees, and decided to set camp for the night. The sun seemed to be setting, making the casted shadows even darker before the sky would begin to follow along. Spreading the darkness of the upcoming night all over.

You had agreed to take the first watch shift of the night before anyone could steal it from you. You’d rather stay up late and go to sleep than wake up in the middle of the night to take your turn. Boromir and Gimi seemed to have collected some bigger pieces of wood and some sticks that Aragorn had been able to set on fire to create a campfire. Legolas, you and the hobbits helped to bring some rocks and logs around the fire so everyone could sit. Sam had requested if he could make something to eat, and surprisingly enough no one had disagreed. The start of the night seemed to be going smoothly. 

As Sam had begun to cook some kind of a soup or a stew, everyone else had spread around the fire. Some were fixing up their weapons and others just talking. You swore you had seen Merry and Pippin bothering Boromir too. You on the other hand had found a spot close to the fire. Most of the ‘seats’ had been taken, but that just allowed you to sit closer to the warming flames of the campfire. Legolas had seated himself near you. You could hear him lowering his bow and the quiver against the log he was sitting on. Other than that and the quiet talking, the only noise you could hear was the mixing of the soup Sam was making. Sometimes the ladle would hit the edges of the saucepan, causing a small noise to break the silent gaps.The moon was only a half, but since there weren't a lot of clouds in the sky, it was able to shine its light all over the forest. At times it felt like time had stopped after the sun had started to go down, and was still shining some light over the fellowship. It was only the cold night air that let you know it indeed was almost time to go and rest. 

You shivered under your clothes, pulling the cloak closer to you, making sure it was properly over your shoulders. Something rustled behind you, and soon another cape was placed over you. A small ‘huh?’ left your mouth as you turned to look who it was. Legolas clipped the front clip shut so the cloack wouldn’t fall off of you. “You seemed cold.” He said, smiling slightly as he sat back down. “I- Thank you.” You said, still confused by the gesture. “Aren’t you going to be cold?” You then asked, feeling bad if he’d have to freeze because of you. The elf laughed lightly at your question and shook his head. “Elves can tolerate the cold better than humans, therefore you should keep it.” He explained to you. 

You had never really thought of how different you were to him. Sure, you were friends with him, but you had no idea that the elves could tolerate the cold better than humans. Maybe you’d find out something else about him as the fellowship continued. This had to only one from many things that made elves so different from you. 

You noticed that the faint light of the moon made his almost white hair look magical. The usually well braided strands of hair had opened up from the fighting the group had gone through with a few orcs earlier that day. You had noticed that the prince usually kept his hair well done, but maybe he hadn’t noticed yet. 

Not being sure if you’d embarrass him if you pointed it out, you got up and sat next to him. You weren’t an elf but you had gotten your hair done before and over the years learned how to braid hair in different styles. So without another word, you took a hold of one of the half opened braids and began to undo it completely. Legolas seemed to have tensed up for a moment and you felt his eyes on you, but to your surprise he soon turned his gaze away and let you continue. 

You braided the first strand of hair, pulling it behind his ear the way you’d seen him usually have them. After starting to fix the other one, you felt another pair of eyes on the two of you. With a quick look you found out who it was. Aragorn was sitting on the other side of the campfire with an amused look on his face. Not understanding what he had found amusing, you kept on working on Legolas’ hair. The prince’s hair was smooth and easy to work with. Humming to yourself, “you have lovely hair.” You said quietly, seeing the man shiver, but saying nothing about it. You were enjoying the moment, getting to feel closer to your friend for once. The warmth of Legolas’ cloak and the fire kept you warm and protected from the gusts of wind. The smell of the soup Sam had made was good, and it felt great to know you were going to be eating something that not only would taste good but also would be warm. You felt like you had only been eating bread and apples for such a long time. 

You finished the other braid and mixed it in with the unbraided parts of his hair. “Both are fixed again.” You hummed mostly to yourself but out loud so Legolas could hear it too. You felt his eyes on you for a moment before they moved to Sam, when he handed the both of you a bowl with some steaming soup in it. You thanked the hobbit with a nod, and began to eat. From the corner of your eye, you caught Aragorn telling Gimli something and them both silently laughing. Trying not to pay no mind to the conversation, you couldn't help but to wonder if it was about what Aragorn had found so amusing earlier?

After that night, many more passed. Some worse and some just as good, but what kept everyone going was the mission and the people in the fellowship. Legolas never mentioned anything about you braiding his hair, and he even let you do it once or twice after. But after every time, it felt like more eyes were on the two of you. It was first only Aragorn, then Gimli joined and soon even Gandalf was in on it. At times it felt like even Legolas knew what was going on. 

After some time of you being oblivious of what had been going on, you decided to bring it up. You had so many theories of what they could have been up to, that you just had to find out. Making your way from the back of the group to where Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were, you prepared yourself. “What are you hiding from me?” This got the attention of the three, all of them slowing down their walking speed a little. “Whatever do you mean?” Legolas asked, giving Aragorn a quick look, almost as if he was trying to tell the man something. “You all clearly have been sharing a rumor or something along the lines of that.” You replied, but didn’t get an answer from anyone for a moment. “You should tell them.” Gandalf’s voice rang from the front of the group, clearly also aware of what you were talking about. “It isn’t a rumor per say.” Gimli started, looking at Aragorn for a moment, hoping he’d take it from there. You saw Legolas look away, not taking part in the conversation. “We wished to congratulate you on confessing to Legolas.” Your eyes widened for a moment, and without even wanting to, a “what?” Left your mouth. “They weren’t aware, Aragorn.” Legolas finally joined in, looking at his friend. “What is this all about?” You tilted your head. “When you braid his hair. See, to elves it has a significant meaning behind it.” Aragorn tried to explain. Your hand traveled over your mouth, clearly shocked. “And you didn't think to tell me?” You blushed slightly, smacking Legolas’ arm lightly. He stopped, taking a light hold of your hand to pause you as well. “I wanted to explain it to you but I found that..” He tried to look for words for a moment, and you let him. “I found that I cared for you that way, and I wasn’t certain if you had found the meaning yourself...” His eyes met yours again, after traveling for a moment. You stayed silent, not even noticing that the rest of the fellowship had also stopped near the two of you. “But I am aware that I should have told-” Legolas broke the silence but you stopped him before he could finish. “It’s all okay. I feel similar.” You admitted, looking away for a second. “Is this a better time for congratulations?” Gimli’s voice asked from behind you as Aragorn walked closer as well. “Yes, yes it is.” You smiled and turned back to Legolas. His eyes looked at you with admiration in them. “Gi Melin.” (I love you)

[artemistorm]

Here is my late rambling analysis of the new LU update:

I love Wind's face and posture. He's just like "Challenge accepted!" Hyrule and Wild my beloveds <3

A lot of people saw this sequence and went "oh no something bad is going to happen to Epona!" but I took it to mean that Epona doesn't want to go in the dungeon and that Twilight knows that Epona will be just fine hanging out outside (tasty snack time ehehehe).

I can't put my finger on exactly what's changed about the coloring but WOW it is popping. So vibrant. I love it. Made my eyes happy.

Also I love it when Jojo draws the gang in lines like this. It makes me think that she's doing it for fun (just like when you draw your OCs in lineups a million times cuz it makes you happy), that she still loves and takes great pride in showing off her blorbos.

Also, Wild is taller than Legend (and Hyrule) >:)

I love that he spelled this out to the others. Makes so much sense. In Lord of the Rings terms, most of the other Links are like Frodo and Sam running around to secretly bring the ring to Mordor, while Warriors is like Aragorn who straight up charged the Black Gates of Mordor with an army.

It's so funny how all the other heroes automatically assumed that Warriors' Hyrule had dungeons and that he just didn't bother to go through them. XD

So this implies that A) that comic where Wild and Hyrule met the wallmaster happened recently and B) it was sometime when Wars wasn't there with them, which makes me think that the wallmaster comic happened at the same time as this comic:

And then there's this:

I can't remember where I read it but I seem to remember Jojo saying that Legend was the most likely to prank others and this is an example of that. This is a characterization that surprised me at first (I would have expected Wind or Hyrule to be more of a prankster) but if you think about Who Legend Is, it actually makes a lot of sense.

I was trying to figure out which game this skulltula is from and my conclusion is that I think it is most similar to skulltulas from OOT 3D / MM 3D. I wonder if that means that they are in or near Time's time. Either that or this is a case of monsters getting mixed up between Hyrules like we saw in the Threatening Shadows story arc.

Time is clearly very wound up still over what happened to Twilight. While all the other heroes have seemed to pretty much bounced back after that harrowing incident and are caught up in youthful optimism and the excitement of a new dungeon, Time hasn't forgotten and he wants to make sure the heroes don't forget the seriousness of their situation and their enemy. Just because the Shadow was defeated once doesn't mean that they can do it again so easily (not that it was easy before).

My writer brain immediately interpreted this as foreshadowing that they aren't going to even make it to the central chamber before the group gets involuntarily broken up (trap doors my beloved mwahaha). Of course that may not end up being the case, they may make it the central chamber without incident.

I figure that ideally the group will split into 3 groups of 3, each group having at least one older Link (Time, Wars, Twi, Sky) and one younger Link (Four, Legend Hyrule, Wild, Wind). How much you wanna bet that Time wants Twi with him in order to keep an eye on him/protect him?

Anyways, that's all I got. Bye!

[thewulf]

The Ranger Called Strider || Aragorn

Summary: Request - OK so this idea is for Aragorn. Basically he is king at this point and feels like it is time to find a queen(we are gonna ignore Arwen in this instance, we love her butttttt). So he does what his like advisors are saying for hosting a ball(kinda like Cinderella).... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh I am falling in love with writing him! Love my human King. I just know he had the biggest heart. I am LOVING all these LOTR requests, please keep them coming, I'll sprinkle them in with my older requests I was working through. It's bringing the joy of writing back for me :) Thanks for he request as always @loving-and-dreaming !

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 6,900 +

TW: self-doubt, Aragorn being hot af

“None of these women will do.” Aragorn muttered to his advisor standing next to him, “I’m going on a walk. Cover for me?” He asked as if he wasn’t the King of Gondor and could do whatever he pleased.

“Aye my King.” He bowed in reverence letting the King slip out behind him. Quickly, he changed into his old Ranger uniform wanting to take to the city streets. It was easier to go out not looking like the King. Less questions were always asked. He had walked further than he normally did before he took to rest outside a small shop far away from the city center. He had a lot on his mind thinking he would never find his Queen. It was not that they were all bad choices he just could not seem to connect with a single woman. He had met hundreds tonight and felt nothing but despair. He needed air and to step away.

“Excuse me sir.” You walked over to the man who was sitting on the bench with a distant stare. When he blinked back to the present looking over to your approaching figure you continued, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” It was not often you found people you had never seen before on the streets late at night. Especially the night of the grand ball the King was throwing.

He shook his head quickly, putting down the hood of his cloak so you wouldn’t see him as a threat, “Pardon me. I was simply lost in thought.” He stood from the bench. You bit back a gulp as he stood much larger than you. You got a good look at him as the moonlight hit his features. Your sudden courage to chat with the stranger had suddenly vanished as you took in the handsome man. He was intimidating. Incredibly handsome but terribly intimidating, “I am well, thank you miss.” He bowed his head gently.

You looked at him skeptically not sure if you truly believed his words. He may have been fine, but he also looked distressed. So, you did what you did best and offered the little help you might be able to manage, “Are you hungry? I have some leftover bread I can spare. And a place to rest if you need it…”

He put his hand up, but you noticed his gaze soften at your kindness, “There is no need. I am but a close walk home.”

But something told you to press on even being as intimidating as he looked, “What if I insist on the bread? You look like you could use it.”

“Very well. Then I simply could not refuse.” He held his hand out letting you lead the way back.

You led him back to you small, shared home in a comfortable silence. You weren’t far from home, but you hadn’t a clue what to talk to the stranger about. You usually weren’t one to get so tongue tied but he had you second guessing any question you might have thought of asking.

“May I ask you a question miss?” The man stopped as you walked him back toward your home at the outer edge of Minas Tirith.

You turned back to him, “Humor me.” Nodding at him you waited for him to ask whatever had been plaguing his mind.

“Why are you not at the ball? All fair maidens were invited, no?” He asked all to curious as to why you hadn’t made it a priority to attend like he assumed everybody in the city would. It wasn’t often the castle opened its doors to everyone. It amused his interests to think there were people who simply did not care. He was assured by his advisors that anyone of interest would be there tonight. Yet here you stood.

You gave him a bashful grin taken aback by the brazen compliment you so rarely received, “You are correct sir.”

“Strider.” He corrected you quickly.

You bowed, to respect his wishes, at him ever so slightly and continued, “You are correct Strider. I would have loved to have gone. However so be it my dear mother is not having the best bought of health at the moment. I need to make sure she is well enough until the morning. That is the earliest the healer can get here.”

He frowned, were his people having to wait for help? Why had he not been advised of this? He took a step closer towards you, “Forgive me miss. But you are having to wait for a healer?”

You sighed nodding your head, “Usually it’s not so long. I believe they had prior arrangements tonight. A ball or something like that.” A ghost of a smile graced your lips, “It’s all right. There are many far fairer of maidens available for the King anyway.” You gave him a sad smile as you finished out the excuse, “I am nothing but a lowly peasant girl. I have no place there.”

He shook his head quickly, “Do not say that. For I know for a fact that is not true.” His smile nearly took all of your breath away. He was so very handsome, strikingly so. You had never seen this Strider man in your parts of the city before. You were sure you would have recognized his face had you seen him before.

Your eyes softened in the slightest at the compliment, “It is all right. My mother is far more important to me than a night of folly.” You grinned before continuing, “No matter how fun it was bound to be. I am positive my friends are having a wonderful time in my absence. One of them seems to be convinced she can woo the King.” You giggled recalling the nonsensical conversation amongst friends earlier that day. She had looked rather striking before she made the trek to the center of the city to get to the Kings Castle. If any of them could capture his attention it was sure to be her.

He shook his head finding your rambling adorable, “I do not believe that to be possible miss.” He watched as your eyes studied him in confusion.

“And why’s that?” You looked him over curiously. He seemed to bd adorned in ripped and tattered Ranger clothing which was nonsensical clean appearance. His hair was a little tangled sure, but his skin looked as clean as could be. You imagined how striking the Strider man would be cleaned up and in more proper clothing.

“I have reason to believe he left the ball early.”

Your eyebrows rose studying his face for any hint of a lie, “How do you know that Strider? Are you the Kings personal Ranger?”

“Keen eyes.” He smirked for the first time in while enjoying the back and forth that had been going on between the two of you, “I am something of that sort.” The chuckle that escaped his throat escaped you. You left it at that as you continued walking back to the home you’d grown to love as you got older. It was precious to even own a plot of land let alone a home in Minis Tirith. You were thankful your father had secured it for you and your mother before he passed in the war.

“You are a Ranger then?” You asked as you neared your home.

He nodded contemplating his next words as the two of you continued walking, “I was. May I ask you another question miss?” Elusively he answered your question but diverted before you could dig in any further.

You smiled appreciating his caution. He very much wasn’t from this part of Minis Tirith being thoughtful. You were used to very brash men who hardly ever considered your feelings for you were seen to be beneath them, “You may Strider. Ever the curious one?”

He shrugged innocently, “Why would you offer a stranger your food and a place to stay? With an ailing mother?”

You opened your mouth to speak but paused as you thought about it, “I wish that if I were in the same position I would be afforded the same fate.”

He nodded while considering your answer, “That is a noble answer.”

“Or the truth.” You hummed stopping by a door, “This is it. Mother is upstairs so she will not be a bother. Bread and spread are on the counter. You may have as much as you like.”

“Will you keep me company for a moment? A know you must check on her but I have quite enjoyed this conversation miss.” He asked once the two of you occupied your family’s small living space.

“If you wish.”

His answer was quick, “I do.” You watched as he cut the bread and put the jam on top. He walked over to the table you had been sitting out and sat next to you. He didn’t try to talk with you, just sitting and eating in silence.

Not being able to take the silence you had to ask him what had been burning on your mind, “I have not seen you around here Strider. I am at the market every day. Where are you from?”

You had given him a hint, “Aye. Do you work there?”

“I asked you first.” You crossed your hands over your chest as you studied him this time. He was even more handsome with his cloak off and hair pushed behind his ears.

“Will you answer my question if I answer yours?” He quipped back not backing down. He had to come and find you again. He was having far too much of a grand time chatting with you. Sure, he thought it a bit immoral to not reveal his true identity for you clearly had no idea who he actually was. But that meant risk to the ease of conversation you may have felt with him. He quite enjoyed the easy bickering he had managed to find with you.

“You are quite stubborn Strider.” Your smile gave way to your answer though, “Yes, I will answer your question.”

“I reside near the north side of the city.” He answered giving you a soft smile, “I did not wish to attend the ball and thought it would be time to observe this side of the city.”

You believed him for why would he lie? “You are far from home Mister Strider. I have not even been to the north end. I thought you said you were a quick walk away?” You sighed knowing he was waiting for your answer now and wasn’t going to entertain your question, “I sell my uncles crops at the market. You get to know people when you are there every day.”

“That is no job for a lady.” You swore you saw his nose flare a little. He almost seemed, angry? Surely not at you but the situation?

“It is a good thing I am no lady then, is it not Strider?” A smirk toyed at your lips knowing you had him beat there. You weren’t a lady. Ladies resided in grandeur houses and had promised marriages. Ladies had class and couth that you could only dream of. Ladies got to paint and read instead of selling crops to other peasants. Ladies had promise, you did not.

Ignoring your question with a warned look on his face he asked you, “What is your name then?” He asked to distract himself. He was angry that you had to work every day to make ends meet. He wished he had a way to help people of his city. Help you. He was the King, there had to be a way.

You tutted turning your head to him, “You did not ask permission to ask me a question.”

A small flush rose to his cheeks, “Forgive me miss…” He trailed off with a small smile rising in place of the blush. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he needed to know your name. He was planning on finding you again. And hopefully many more times.

“Y/N.” You obliged the handsome stranger.

“Miss Y/N.” He gave you a head bow, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

The second time you ran into Strider was at the market a few days later. He strolled up near closing time with a hood wrapped tightly around his head, “How much do you have left miss Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up in recognition of the voice that belonged to the strikingly handsome man, “Too much, uncle is going to be disappointed we did not get more today.” You admitted in a sigh of defeat.

“I’ll take the rest then.” He put down a gold piece as if it were the simplest thing to come by.

You pushed it back into his hand, “Mister Strider I cannot accept this. It is far too much.”

He smiled seeing your kindness seep right through you yet again. Any other mortal would have taken the money without so much as a second thought, “I insist. Consider it a thank you for the other night as well.” He pushed it back into your hand making sure you were holding onto it before letting go once more.

“Strider, this is too much even for that.” You bit your lip trying to figure out what to do as he was clearly not going to take the gold piece back.

“Nonsense. Not for this fine spread. Give your uncle my well wishes.” He smiled collecting the rest of the produce you had yet to sell for the day. You had to wonder what he was going to with a random assortment of in season vegetables.

“Thank you. Did you come all the way down here for this?” You handed him the rest of what was left on your table before packing up for the night.

He shook his head, “I was hoping to see you as well. I quite enjoyed our conversation the other night and was hoping you could spare some more of your precious time?”

You flashed him a quick smile as you gathered the rest of your personal belongings, “I enjoyed it too. Your much wiser than the men down this way.”

And that was how it went for the next few weeks. Strider would come and find you at the market on a random weekday, sometimes every day, making sure to buy whatever you had left. Somedays he left you with a gold piece, sometimes a bronze knowing you wouldn’t keep taking from him.

He had admitted to himself he had grown quickly attached to the pretty naïve girl with a big heart. It did not take long for his like to turn to love as you teased him relentlessly. You treated him as Strider and not King Aragorn. He loved how you always managed to catch him on his toes and make him laugh harder than even his best of friends had managed too. You had managed to hook your finger around him and pull him in without you even realizing it.

Before you knew it he was coming around almost every night. The routine was simple. He would find you at the market not fifteen minutes before it closed. He would purchase the remaining bits of produce no matter how much. He would then walk you home making sure his meleth was as safe as could possibly be. He shuddered at the thought of someone hurting you on your walk home as he sat in the castle. He would have none of that.

He usually never came inside, not wanting to intrude. But one evening it had begun to rain harder than even he had anticipated so he came inside at your pleading. You really did not want Strider to catch a cold because he didn’t want to intrude. He would never be intruding. You had grown to love the man just as much as he had grown to love you. Neither of you were great at speaking it out loud but you were sure it was being conveyed through your eyes every time you saw him. He made you feel things you were sure you were going to miss out on.

You cursed when you saw your mother sitting down at the table reading a book you had recommended she pick up. You really just wanted to keep Strider your little thing separate from your actual life. You had told your mother about him but never actually wanted the two of them to meet. For some reason

“Mother, I’ve invited Strider inside. It is pouring too heavily for his journey home.” You spoke blocking her view of the man behind you.

She smiled and nodded looking back down at her book, “That is quite aright dear. We have plenty of stew to spare. Are you hungry mister Strider?” She asked this time setting the book down and actually looking for him behind you.

Your mothers eyes went wide as Strider stepped out from beside you. It never dawned on you she had never seen the man called Strider you had grown very fond of over the few instances the two of you had spent time together.

“Are you alright mother?” You asked walking over to her. She was staring right at your new stranger turned friend that you hoped would blossom into something more. You never wanted to assume but you had to think he enjoyed you if he had come around so often.

She ignored you and stood from the table in a rush, “My King.” She bowed before pushing the chair into the table.

“Mother, are you well?” You placed a hand over the back of her forehead, “The healer said you were better.”

“I am well child. You did not tell me your friend is The King of Gondor.” She had a more than irritated expression as she stared at you, bewildered. You just stared back with the same bemused expression. Had she gone mad? Strider could not be the King of Gondor. No.

You shook your head quickly before turning back to Strider, “I am so sorry Strider… I do not know what has come over her.”

He put his hand up to have you pause like he had the night he met you, “Your mother is not wrong.” He said with so much passiveness in his voice you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly. He looked at you like he had lost a battle as a look of utter confusion flashed across your features.

“King?” You sputtered out as you stood straighter and turned to him trying your hardest to blink back your surprise of this newfound revelation.

“Aragorn will suffice.” He looked terribly nervous, just as bad as you felt. You had been so casually conversing with the King of Gondor prior to knowing of his elevated status. Had acted like the peasant you really were. He must have found something charming in it as he kept coming back. The King was visiting you in his limited time? Your head suddenly felt like it was going to explode with all of the questions you had.

Your mother spoke up a little horrified by your mistake, “I apologize for my daughter. She meant no harm for her mistake King Aragorn.” She bowed her head once more and you followed suit. Heat rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. How had you been so blind?

“There is no need to apologize. It is I who kept this information from her.” He spoke directly to your mother letting her know it was not your fault in the slightest. He did not want you to come under the ire of your mother when he left for the night thought he knew at some level you would get a scolding from her. He watched as you kept your head down in shame. Not having the will to look the King in the eye at the moment.

Instead of speaking to you he walked up with purpose to where you were standing. What he was most afraid of was playing out in front of him. You could not even look him in the eye. He had no idea what was going through your mind, but he knew it was certainly a lot. You were an overthinker just as he was. Maybe that was why he found such solace in you.

It had only been a few weeks since you ran into him on the bench that fateful night. The night he had all but given up on love. Arwen had chosen the immortal life instead of staying with him and Eowyn was engaged to be wed to Faramir. Nobody had intrigued him like those two until he met you. A kind heart who was willing to give more than you had made him fall for you faster than he had wanted. He craved to spend time with you. To get things off his chest. To feel your warmth and comfort you so effortlessly provided for him. Only a few of his advisors had known of your existence. He wanted to keep you his little secret for as long as he could. He knew that time was ending now that you knew of his true identity.

He placed a gentle hand under your chin forcing your eyes back up to his, “You do not bow before me. You need not even call me Aragorn. Call me Strider. I am still just the Ranger called Strider. Please.” His voice wavered at the end forcing your eyes to his. He was being genuine?

“But my King…” Your eyes frantically searched his face now. How could you have been so daft? You had been to the coronation not even that long ago. You were sure you would never forget a face like his. It was funny how his tattered clothes and messy hair disguised him so well. No wonder he never wanted to stroll around in the daylight hours though. Surely, somebody would have recognized him then.

“Please Y/N?” He hardly used your name as it came out in a pleading whisper. You were sure your mother was as confused as ever. How had her daughter run into the King of all people. And why was he looking at her like that?

“As you wish Strider.” It was quick but you gave him your word. It still stung a bit though. How long was he planning to keep it a secret from you? Was he planning to disappear one day on you?

“Take a walk with me?” He asked wanting to get away from your mothers prying eyes.

For the first time you thought you should reject his request. You needed a moment to get your thoughts together, “I do not think that is a good idea Strider.”

His eyes stitched together in confusion, “No?”

“I need the night to myself.” You whispered almost afraid he’d be mad by your request.

A quick nod came from him as he stepped back giving you the space you needed, “Aye. Can I come see you tomorrow?” He hopped he wasn’t pushing his luck with you. Your expression of distrust wasn’t lost on him. His intentions were never to deceive you he had just grown to adore being treated like a human again. You weren’t caught up in the politics of it all. You had become his breath of fresh air that he needed more and more of.

“That will be fine my King.” It slipped before you could stop it. But he corrected you, nevertheless.

“Strider. I will see you tomorrow. Good evening ma’am. You have a lovely daughter.” He spoke to her before ducking out of the front door and vanishing off into the dark night. You frowned seeing the rain still pouring down. You had pushed him out before he even got the chance to prepare for the storm.

“You are upset with me.” He spoke as he caught your vacant expression. It was becoming a common site to see Strider sitting at your table after a long day at work. His days were much longer than yours you were sure of that now. Being the King and all.

You shook your head, “I am not upset... just embarrassed. I feel like a fool.” You spoke freely not being able to hide your true emotions from him. He just seemed to have a way of getting you to spill all your feelings without seeming to have to try. You still seemed to trust him although he had lied to you for the last few weeks. But then, could you blame him? There had to be a reason he kept coming back for more. He had to have enjoyed it for a King wouldn’t waste his time on somebody so trivial.

“Why?” He asked with a genuine look of confusion mixed with concern coming through his eyes.

A sigh escaped your lips as you took to the chair next to him. You had forced your mother out of the house and promised to tell her everything later. You needed this moment with Strider to sort it all out, “I have not treated you as I should a King.”

He shook his head before grabbing at your hand. He had never been so forward with affection before, but he needed you to hear him. Hear the words as the truth that they were, “I did not want you to treat me as one. All else in my life treats me as one and it is tiresome. You remind me so much of the life I miss, the one filled with adventure before this happened. My life is nothing, but politics and I grow very tired of it. Fear not though, I do enjoy what I do. I just find you so very captivating my lady.”

“I am no lady.” You ignored the rest of his statement as you didn’t want to talk about your feelings with him so deeply. This is what you were great at, avoiding. Cutting and running when things got just a little difficult. You should have known Strider wouldn’t let you go so easily though.

“Am I not the King? Can I not give you such a title?” He pressed pushing his luck beyond what he should have.

You shook your head looking down, another flush of embarrassment running its course through your body, “Forgive me.”

Once more he place his hand under your chin bringing it up forcing you to look at him once more, “I am simply messing with you mell nin.” He smirked using a nickname he failed to tell you the meaning of once more. It wasn’t fair that he knew Sindarin and used it against you so often.

You bit your lip more than feeling warm by the intimate interaction between the two of you. What the hell did this all even mean? Why had he taken to you of all people? You were a peasant girl from the southernmost edge of the city. You meant nothing.

“I do not know how to act around you Strider.” You admitted out loud for the first time. You were terribly insecure. You didn’t find it easy to have a conversation with a normal person let alone the King of Gondor.

He frowned but continued to hold your hand in his, “Treat me as you had before. As the Ranger of the North, you got to know.”

“It is not that simple though and you know that.” You sighed looking away from him.

He waited a second before you turned back to him before continuing the conversation, “What plague’s your mind then?” He began giving your hand a squeeze. It was easy to melt into his touch as he was so gentle with it. He noticed the shiver and chills that ran up your arm. A positive sign if he knew of one.

Might as well get it out. He’d figure it out eventually, “Why me? I do not understand why you choose to spend time with me of all people.” It sounded so much more insecure as you said it out loud rather than let it bounce around in your head.

“I fear I am not good with words. That is why we are where we are.” He frowned but continued to hold your hand in his, “I have not expressed how much I adore spending time with you. You said it yourself. I go out of my way to come to you because you make me feel like myself. You made me feel like the person I once was. Being a King is very tiring, believe it or not. But being with you gives me back something I’ve been missing dearly, a little bit of life.” He smiled to you with those tired eyes you had grown to adore.

“I believe you.” You smiled right back at him. It wasn’t lost on you that was the most he’d spoken of his admiration of you. He was not lying when he said he was a man of few words.

He looked a little more than relieved when you gave him the smile that had been absent for a day too long. You didn’t seem as upset with him. So, he decided to do what he did the best with you, push his luck a little, “Do you believe me when I say I meant no malice keeping the truth from you? I truly just enjoyed talking and getting to know you for you with no pressure of the crown looming.”

“I believe you Strider.”

He looked skeptical, “But?” Seeing the words fall short on your lips had his heart pounding in his chest.

You chewed at your lip, “I just do not understand why you chose me. There are many more beautiful women in the kingdom. I have nothing to offer you and that frightens me a bit. I do not know why you would stay. Why you keep coming back.”

“That is simply not true my lady. I wish you could see yourself as I see you. A beauty of a woman with the kindest heart. You offer me the world plus so much more. I would be honored to have you in my life. To have you by my side.” He spoke with confidence.

Your breath caught in your throat at the bluntness of his statement to you, “What are you saying?” You hadn’t a clue what he was insinuating. A pair like the two of you could never work. You were raised as an outsider not a royal. You could never be the asset he needed on the other side of the throne.

“I wish to court you, my lady.” He spoke with that same confidence he had

“Court me?” You asked making sure you had heard him correctly.

He nodded his head fervently, “If you will have me that is.”

“Me? Are you insane Strider?” You asked him once more making sure because it did not feel like he was being serious.

“Yes you mell nin.” He was patient as he watched you retreat into your head to think on his words. You had not outright rejected him, which was a very good sign, especially for you.

Your next question took him by surprise, “What would the people think?” You let your insecurities eat at you once more as the question slipped out. You were not meant to be a Queen. There was no way people would accept you of all people.

He shrugged, “It is easy to be critical. They will not know you first, but they will come to love you just as I have. How could they not? You will make an incredible Queen.”

Your mouth gaped at his complimentary nature that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Sure, he was always kind before, but this was over the top for him. You were enjoying it more than you should have been though.

“Do you think I could do it?”

He nodded earnestly, “I would never ask if I knew you could Meleth nîn.”

Your eyes looked over his seeing he was telling the whole truth, “Are you going to tell me what that means?”

“My love.” He smiled as he watched you take in his words. The blush that rose on your cheeks was a sight to be seen. You blinked rapidly at the confession thinking he would hold it back from you like he had so often before. But this was him, Strider, confessing it all to you. Maybe he really did want you, the lowly peasant girl from the outskirts of his Kingdom.

“And Mell nin?” He was being awfully forthcoming, so you kept the questions going dying to know what he had been calling you since early on in your meetings.

He grabbed at your hand like he so often did before, “My dear.”

“Really?” Your lips came together pondering his admittance, “Did you not call me that only on our second meeting?” You did not want to believe it but when he gave you a slow nod you felt your heart pick up at his confession.

“I did meleth nîn.”

Your eyes could not hide their surprise as he freely admitted his feelings so openly towards you. So often it was like pulling his teeth out to try and get an answer to your questions. It had become clearer after learning he was the King that he had hidden so much from you.

“So soon?”

He moved his chair closer to yours. Gently, he placed a hand to the side of your face relishing in the heat your cheeks gave off at his touch. He adored the way you physically reacted to his touch. He knew what he felt was reciprocated even if you could not seem to believe him. He’d spend the next year convincing you if that was what it would take. He had made his decision and he was going to get what he wanted, if that was what you wanted of course.

“You made it easy to decide. I have not met another woman like you…” His voice trailed off as his eyes roamed your face. First they met your own gaze, and they softened as if felt like he peered right into your soul, asking for permission to peel the layers of you back. For you too had been less than forthcoming about your very own life. Then his eyes trailed down to your lips where he so desperately wanted to meet them with his own. But he knew he must wait. Wait until you say yes, and he can take you out of a proper afternoon stroll around the city center. He knew he wanted to do anything and everything to make you his, to have your heart yearn for his as much as he did for yours.

“You flatter me Strider.” You whisper as your own eyes trail down to his lips. You wondered what he tasted like. Did his lips taste as good as he smelled? How many women had he kissed? Were you one in a long line or truly one of a kind? You cursed your insecurities for being so loud at a time like this.

“I fear I may not enough.” He countered, “Will you let me court you my lady?”

After looking him over for longer than he would have liked you answered him quietly, “I would be honored my King.” You bowed your head once more.

He would have none of that though. He stood, pulling you up with him, “I told you my lady, none of that. I am to be your husband. Your equal. My Queen.” He spoke slowly making sure you heard every word.

“But that is not…” You protested before he stopped you.

He placed a hand over your mouth. A habit he was becoming accustomed to when you began to overthink, “Not in my Kingdom. Not with you as my Queen.” He shushed you by running a gentle thumb over your lips. He let out a longing sigh, “Truly, you are the most wonderful woman I have gotten to know in quite a long time my lady. You are doing me the honor by accepting.” He pulled your hand to his lips as he gently kissed the back of it leaving you utterly breathless as you wanted to melt into him. His charm was truly like no other man you had come across. Not that your experience was nearly as expansive as his seemed to be.

“I shall pick you up tomorrow mid-day. I will take you out in the gardens of my home. I will see to it that you will quite like it.” He had told you of the beautiful gardens he had maintained at his mother’s dying request. He promised should he ever inherit the throne once more he would restore the gardens of Minis Tirith. And that he did.

Your eyes went wide before they suddenly went downcast, “But my uncles crops. There is nobody who can sell them with my mother being back to work.” Your shoulders deflated in realization of you having to turn down his invitation.

“The castle will buy it up. For the rest of his days too. We will see to it. There will be no need to go back to that dreadful market.” He grabbed at both of your hands hoping it would calm your qualms, “I will even move your family closer to the castle if it will make it easier for you meleth nîn.”

“You would do that?” It was not that you didn’t believe him, but it surprised you more that he would offer so easily. Of course, you knew there were perks of being the King of a thriving Kingdom, but it seemed so outlandish at the offer.

“Meleth nîn you have to understand that I would do anything for you.” He breathed. It became so quiet you could only hear the steady beating of his heart and the gentle breaths that followed.

Your eyes finally found his and that smile he had been searching for finally came to. He was so realized at the sight he almost missed your words, “All right. I will see you tomorrow.” And at that he too could feel his heart quicken. You had accepted. He was rather unsure of if you would say yes. You were a headstrong woman, a trait he had admired greatly about you.

His hands found your face once more. You could feel your heart quicken yet again at his more than gentle touch, “I wish to kiss you my lady.”

“You may.” It spilled out of your mouth before you could attempt to stop it for it was no lie. You wanted him to kiss you.

He chuckled. Instead of kissing you he just traced your lips with his index finger, “That would be improper my lady. I wish to do this the right way with you.” He leaned down whispering in your ear reveling in the way you shivered underneath his breath.

“Did you not say it was your Kingdom? Your rules?” You used his own words against him wanting to get your way. But you knew Aragorn was stronger than a few suggestive words.

He let out a longer laugh this time, “Please my lady. I wish to treat you as the Queen you are bound to be. Do not tempt me for I can only say no a few times.”

“A shame.” You giggled feeling suddenly confident under his lust filled gaze. He had wanted you for some unknown reason, but you were tired of questioning it. You were going to accept it full heartedly.

He stifled a groan before taking a quick step back knowing he needed to keep himself in control and touching you was making it that much harder, “You have no idea what those words do to me, my lady.” His gaze darkened a touch before he blinked it away having to keep himself in control around you. He had plenty of time to lose himself later on.

“I feel as though I do your Majesty.” You pressed taking a step closer to him. He placed his hands on your shoulders keep you at bay by a length

“You will be the death of me my lady.” He gave your shoulders a squeeze, “I will come calling for you midday. By tomorrow eve the Kingdom should know my intentions.”

“The whole Kingdom?” You felt your heart begin to speed up at the thought. Your life was going to change whether for the better. Your family would never have to work again. Your mom could finally take some time off. You would become a Queen in due time.

“The whole of it.”

Your face paled in realization. You wanted to be courted by him of course. He was lovely and everything you had wanted. But this was never planned. Never a thought. How were you to prepare? How were you to handle it all?

“I will be with you every step of the way. Do not be afraid Meleth nîn.” With more of a comforting hold than one of fierce desire he wrapped you in his arms for a gentle hug. One to reassure your fears. One to calm your qualms.

“I love you, Aragorn.” Your eyes filled with unshed tears as every emotion came rushing out. How lucky were you to have found such a man?

He smiled softly while brushing away the stray tears that managed to spill over, “I’ll always just be the Ranger called Strider for you. I love you my dear. Fear not for we have a long life to live yet.”

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[live-laugh-legolas]

can you do headcanons for when they're sick?

preferably the fellowship+faramir

Absolutely!

When the fellowship members are sick (+Faramir)

Aragorn:

-Insists he’s fine

-If the tables were turned he would go all doctor like on you and tell you how rest will help

-But he’s built different so it doesn’t apply to him apparently

-Knows all the remedies but refuses to use them because he wants to “build up his immune system”

-You have to be pretty firm with him

-But after being his friend for so long you know this already

-Possibly threaten him

Legolas:

-Can elves even get sick?

-I imagine he would be confused in the same way he was when the alcohol was “effecting him”

-“My nose…It’s leaking”

-He’s probably a bit stressed but outwardly he seems pretty normal

-Will do whatever you tell him to do

-One of the easiest to take care of, plus he gets better after a day or so

Gimli:

-Grumpy and in denial

-Seriously, dwarves are so stubborn

-“dwarves don’t get sick!” Then proceeds to lose his lunch

-Tbh you probably have to drug him

-I read this fic by CheveronChick last year at some point and I did a deep dive to find it again because it’s a perfect example of how I think Gimli acts when sick

-I recommend giving it a read

Boromir:

-Tries to act tough and pretend nothings wrong

-But ends up being very dramatic

-Convinced he’s dying

-“you will die one day Boromir but not from this cold”

-He is used to being the one to take care of others, so when you force him to rest and let you take care of him he feels special

-I’ve mentioned before that I think despite his outgoing nature he doesn’t have many close friends

-So he genuinely loves having you to be there for him

-Side note, he may pretend to still be sick so you dote more but you know what he’s doing and he gets a pillow to the face

Frodo:

-Just sleeps it off

-Seriously doesn’t even act that sick

-You just don’t see much of him because he is asleep

-He could be dead…you honestly aren’t sure

-Would probably show up a few days later totally fine and just be like “sorry I had pneumonia” “Thats serious Frodo wtf”

Sam:

-Knows he needs to rest, but he doesn’t like to sit around doing nothing

-Actually one of the hardest to take care of

-Feels bad when he needs to be taken care of

-Also worried he will get you sick

-“Stay away y/n, I’m contaminated”

Merry:

-Very nonchalant and responsible

-Drinks so much tea and takes all the drugs

-Maybe I should take back the responsible part

-He seems like the type to genuinely like the taste of pepto and will chug it

-Takes shots of whatever the ME equivalent of night-quill is

Pippin:

-Standing in the doorway in the middle of the night; “I threw up”

-Cries when he gets sick, but me too Pippin I get it

-You will get sick too because he insists that you stay with him because he’s dying

-You would never forgive yourself if he died and you weren’t there (That’s what he tells you)

-But to be fair, I feel like he doesn’t get sick much but when he does it tends to be worse than a normal cold

Gandalf:

-I have no idea if he can get sick

-But don’t you dare suggest he might be

-You may lose your head

-No he’s not sick

*Bonus Faramir:

-I feel like he has two reactions and it depends on who he is with

-To most people he will refuse to seem weak, you probably wouldn’t even guess it

-Just maybe a bit sluggish

-However with people he trusts, mainly you and Boromir, he will happily let you take care of him

-Won’t verbally admit that he enjoys the attention, but you know he does

-So kind about it and appreciative

-Although he would feel bad, he would be secretly a little pleased if you got sick too because he could return the care you gave him

[shirefantasies]

How would the fellowship, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Haldir, Arwen and Eomer react to someone they like who always calls everyone by cute names like ‘love’, ‘babe’, ‘hon’, ‘darling’ etc.

Oooh, good question! I’m going to split this up into LoTR & The Hobbit imagines for the whole casts if that’s all right 😄

LoTR Characters When You Call Everyone Pet Names

Aragorn

His favorite part of your habit, in all honesty, is other people’s reactions. The first time you do it to him he sort of quirks up a brow, but others take it more extremely, offense or otherwise. He gets protective, though, if those others respond taking it too far. He’ll step in front of you if they start flirting with you or try to touch you unbidden even if you’re just friends at that point. No matter who in his group that is, unacceptable. At the use of a regular name slid into the flows of your conversation, something akin to "Oh, honey, you have no idea", his lips quirk up and privately he wonders if you’ve ever meant it.

Legolas

Your first meeting is you brushing past him at Rivendell with an "Excuse me, darling". Needless to say he stares after you with wide eyes because you must know him, but from where? Then you greet Elrond with an enthusiastic "Sweetheart, how I have missed you", and while the Lord of Imladris appears aware of the affront, he is also amused. Clearly this is simply your manner. Because of this, he accepts it without much overthought, though your pet names never fail to bring a smile to the elf prince's lips.

Boromir

The kindness you show him almost breaks him- is he worthy of your honeyed words? "Easy, dear heart, the troubles you carry are not even your own, are they?" The part of him tempted to lash out almost wins, but at the end of the day, you are right. All he can do is shake his head. He's heard you say call such sweet names before, but alongside your other words they pierce his heart like nothing before. He bids you sit by his side. "Wish me to speak or to listen?" You ask, and that is when Boromir knows he has fallen for you.

Gimli

"Who are you calling sweetheart, darling?" Offended as he may be, Gimli also takes it as a challenge of sorts, leaning in closer with smug satisfaction. It becomes a sort of tension for you both, an odd banter of affectionate nicknames tossed out even with the bloodiest challenges. "Cut his head off, Gimli darling!" "Wouldn't dream of doing any less, dear!" Gimli begins getting offended as your habit pops out with others, asking you pointedly what you think you're doing calling the elf sweetheart. "What's he done to earn that, eh?" Leaning in, your noses almost brushing, you give him a smile dripping with smug mock-sweetness. "I thought you didn't enjoy being called that." "Well," he crosses his arms stubbornly, eyes falling away from yours, "I suppose I've gotten used to it now."

Frodo

"Frodo, my sweet, please eat just a bit more for me, I worry so." Frodo's heart does a somersault- he's made sure notice of your habit by now, heard you speak your darlings and sweethearts aplenty. You often said it to tease the others when spirits were light or when you cared for them, but that was not all. The words my sweet were reserved for him. Everyone else got a plethora, it seemed, but him, and it vexed him in the best way possible, twisting his heart like nothing else. The sound of it was like a balm to Frodo, and he dared hope it held the meaning he dearly wished it to, for he was too shy to ask it of you just yet.

Sam

“Sam, love, pass me the ladle, if you please.” Samwise, thinking his heart might burst from his chest and run right up to you, pauses, speaks carefully. “What was that?” He asks, your name falling softly, almost delicately, from his lips. He’d heard the way you tease people before, usually addressing them as ‘my dear’. This was something else. The smile you gave him in response, too, was practically enough to kill him- could you tell? “I just asked if I might borrow the ladle, love.” Yep, the jig was up now.

Merry

“It’s got to be some sort of custom.” “That or you’ll be very, very wrong.” You arched a private brow over Merry and Pippin’s back-and-forth whispering, but thought nothing more of it until your next interaction with the blonde hobbit. “Merry, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Looking up from his knife, he held up a small chunk of wood with a strangely cocky grin. “Just a bit of whittling, dear.” Something about the roguish look he gave you, the confidence with which he adopted your habit, had your heart fluttering; you faltered a bit in your response before you sat at his side. Unbeknownst to you, he was elbowing Pippin triumphantly on the other side.

Pippin

His heart soars the first time he hears you call him honey. No matter what attacks you or what happens that day, day made. Then he hears you saying "No put that down, Merry sweetheart" and it all comes crashing to the ground because he’d gotten it into his head that he was special- was he wrong? He had to have been. When the words so easily pass between your lips again, this time in the form of '"Gimli dear, let me see that", hurt mingles with realization of your manner- that is just how you are. Moments pass, thoughts drifting by as clouds deciding whether or not to storm, before Pippin makes up his mind: he'll make known his interest, try everything he can until he truly does stand out.

Faramir

Publicly he barely humors it, trying to keep a tough face when his seniors or especially his father are present. Privately? It amuses him. Pleases his heart to see one with light spirits in the face of everything. Your ways make you something of an anchor, a reminder why he does the things that he does. You make Faramir laugh and he knows Boromir enjoys your company too- the three of you together form an escape that reminds Faramir of his younger days. And perhaps that happiness you always brings him has slowly metamorphosed, glimmering with hope every time you call him dear.

Eomer

This man, a military leader, and you call him honey? Eomer is shaken up honestly. He can’t even be annoyed because he’s too busy freezing with a slight frown upon his face. Wits coming back about him, he opens his mouth to question you, ask in his blunt way why you address him so... then you turn around and call his sister my dearest and oh, perhaps he was truly overthinking it. He laughs it off, swears to put it out of his head...but the mental image of you calling him a name of endearment plays over and over again whether he wills it or not.

Haldir

“And what has our precious jewel brought to us now?” Since discovering Haldir bristled a bit at your little names, you had decided to find the most ridiculous ones possible for the marchwarden. It worked every time, too, judging by the furrow of his brow. “They go to the Lady of Lórien,” he replied simply, not to be goaded so easily. The man he seemed to know the best, the ranger, exchanged looks of amusement with you. “And what do you have to say for yourself, my dear?” You asked the man. Just as you suspected, Haldir’s expression darkened a bit further- perhaps he had gotten a bit more used to his names than he let on. At that, you couldn’t help a chuckle and a smirk.

Eowyn

Though she may not voice it, she is questioning of your ways at first because she has firsthand experience of people using words as weapons, saying whatever they can to influence others’ will. So sure, call her dear but you will get nothing of her she does not want to give. The day this changes is actually when you call her brother a pet name and he’s shocked and the wide look in her eyes has both of you laughing in a way you usually do not. She envies your carefree ways and from that moment on enjoys basking in them. It is impossible to help the way her heart gives a little flutter whenever a 'dear' or 'my darling' is directed her way, however...

Arwen

The surprise she fixes you with upon playfully addressing her as ‘my pretty’ encourages you, if you are being honest. It’s a pleasant look, flattered and floored, that you think a lady like Arwen deserves to make again and again. As a result, while everyone else gets a casual darling or dear, you make it your mission to fluster Arwen as much as possible. “Ah, treasure, how has this day treated you so far?” She flushes. “…Well, I say. Thank you. And I wish you to know that you are no less than you say I am. The way you speak to me? It can also be said of yourself.”

Elrond

You are caring. Parental. As a father of three, Elrond appreciates the way you speak gently and warmly. Assist his healed patients with soft whispers of be free of your pain, dear heart. As he granted you leave to use his name rather than My Lord you still slip up at times…until it becomes quite the opposite and a good night, dear slips from your lips upon parting for the evening. Elrond accepts and assures your every apology with an affectionate smile, shocking himself with the realization that his feelings for you are much stronger than he had allowed himself awareness of.