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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 3 years

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Hey hey heeey~ I just thought of something. What if from the order where the female reader country was forced to get married (That one from Germany and Russia) her boss tells them after a year of the marriage that they want her to get divorced and marry another country for convenience? Saying something like:

"Oh well, since we are better off there is no need for you to stay married to that country, rather I will engage you to another one from which we will get more benefit. Think about your people first and then how you feel, I don't care if you are both in love, you are someone very nice and outgoing lady, I'm sure any other better country will want to marry you."

Do you think it could be with the characters England, America, Russia, Germany, Canada and Sweden. All separately with 2p version and Yandere 2p? If you want to do it either way that's fine! Thank you very much

I only did four out of the six characters. This is because of my character limit is four, unless you ask for a specific group. You are more than welcome to request part two for the ones I didn’t do, or even a part one for the ones I did this time. A yandere version could also be written. Thank you again for the request, I hope you have a good day!

Russia – When his little wife comes to him with this appalling news Viktor will not be pleased. He had publicly declared that he loved you, and you had done the same. Viktor had also gone above and beyond in his duties as a husband. His love for you had led to amazingly beneficial for your people, and yet your boss wanted to end that.

Viktor, on the other hand, does understand that your boss wants what’s best for your people, but he doesn’t care. As long as you are healthy and he can help you, then there is no need for another. Viktor also carries the belief that divorce is only needed for extreme situations, and that other problems can and should be worked out.

In addition, if you are willing, Viktor is willing to raise hell to protect your marriage. He starts simply enough, pressuring your boss with his presence and offering details about why the two of you should remain united. Treaties and trade are the biggest pushes Viktor gives, but as time goes on, they become what Viktor uses against your boss. Many nations would avoid trading because of Viktor’s words, while enemies would start to rise from almost nowhere.

In the end, your boss will give in. Viktor is a big nation with lots to offer, he is correct in that he can not only provide for you but your people as well. So, why not keep letting him do so.

Sweden – Bernard only looks like he takes the news well. Though his hustru knows better, they can see the tightness in his smile. He is not pleased. Even if you thought had a fleeting feeling of just giving in to your boss, Bernard is there to remind you why it is important to fight for your marriage.

Being silver-tongued, Bernard has the benefit of easing his hustru while also convincing your boss to drop this evil idea. It may take some work, but Bernard is not easily dissuaded. He will spend hours with your boss, learning all he can while still dropping hints about how there is no benefit to taking you from him.

If it doesn’t work, then your boss gets annoyed. He won’t outright yell because Bernard has been nothing but diplomatic to him. Your boss may not even be able to deny the good points, but your boss refuses to give in. Especially since other bosses have sent in letters about marrying you to their nations. This is Bernard’s tipping point.

From this Bernard will resort to his final trick, disappearing. He has done with all kinds of people for all kinds of reasons throughout the centuries. Even though his own bosses have found some hiding places, they haven’t found them all. So, Bernard, will bring you both to the oldest one and hunker down until this is all done away with.

Since both of you are important, I can see this working. After like three months, your boss will give in and your marriage will be stronger than ever.

England – At the news Oliver is going to be shocked. He knew that bosses could be stupid, but he never knew that one would be so stupid as to cross him. His shock turns into giggles as he walks over to you and gives a quick kiss. Smoothing your hair, Oliver lets you know not to worry.

Oliver is the king of getting his way. He comes on strong because he wants to make sure that your boss knows why this should not go through. Firstly, Oliver is gonna send a box of cupcakes and a letter. The cupcakes won’t kill, but your boss is gonna feel all kinds of sick. Think the cupcakes Todd Packer gives out in the Office. The letter will be simply written, but still carry the deadly intent. It contains details about what should happen if your boss would continue to attempt to destroy his marriage.

You won’t be able to warn your boss about any of this, because you’ll be with Oliver, enjoying a wonderful date. He also won’t tell you that this is his plan. The only clue you get that anything happened is a phone call.

The call pretty much your boss apologizing for attempting to hurt you and saying have a good night with Oliver. After you two celebrate, Oliver will call your boss. He tells your boss a simple thank you, before walking over to cuddle with you.

Germany – This lazy guard dog gets aggressive once in a while, and this is that moment. He is your husband; he has given himself to you and only you. If you can’t stop your boss, he will. The thought alone of you being taken, causes his angry burns so intensely that he starts to turn red. His breathing gets ragged, and Luther grabs the nearest phone.

With the phone in hand, Luther dials your boss. In those tense few seconds of silence, attempts at calming him down only lead to him pulling you to him. There he just pets your head, until your boss answers. Not even a syllable is spoken before the grilling starts.

Words of anger, betrayal, and threats fly from the mouths of both parties. It takes about five minutes before the phone is angrily thrown down. Pulling you even closer, Luther promises that he will fix this and ensure that you two will remain as one.

Luther’s next choice of action is to use his resources. First, he will go to his boss. Offer deals in ways that could help you two remain together. If they work great, Luther will return to his laid-back self, if not then it's gonna get scary.

Luther calls on favors that he’s been owed. It adds up to quite a bit and tell them all to either drop their courtship or face his fists. This works for many nations, there are many recalls and a huge drop of interest in you. Those that still persist, Luther calls in the rest of the Axis for help. He will do the beat down, but the rest of them help keep away the allies of the offender.

In the end, you two win. Mainly because everyone realizes Luther loves you enough to give up his lazy lifestyle, and this leads to no one wanting to court you. Luther’s aggressive state will calm with the news, and he will go back to being a lazy guard dog. Always close, giving you affection and you two will celebrate like true husband and wife.

Yandere Version: So, the yandere version of this story would have ended differently. There would have been more stalking, and preparations made by the nations to ensure that their sweet little ray of light remains theirs. Also, in my opinion, yandere is a horror trope and as such having them as her husband would be horrific. Unless Stockholm syndrome takes hold, it's only gonna be bliss for one party.

Russia – As a yandere who had his родная within his arms, Viktor is willing to go to war to ensures that she stays there.

It will start simply enough, like his normal self, Viktor will mention lists of why they should remain together. Similar things as before, but his patience is much shorter than before. As in, the second it is confirmed he has a rival, hell will be raised.

Yandere Viktor does it very simply. Starve your country out. It starts with blockades, the intimidating huge Russian warships start to affect trade. Then it escalates to raiding incoming ships and shooting down planes. It is nothing pretty, and your country will struggle to fight back against this world power.

As your citizens suffer, you will start to feel ill. Viktor’s hurt by your pain; he doesn’t show it though. Instead, he holds you close, doing his best to comfort you. Running his fingers through your hair, asking what you need, administering medicine, and more. Though, there would be times when you are alone because of Viktor having to lead the charge against your people. After all, he was the one that wanted it.

In the end, your country is on the verge of collapse. So, they give into the Russian Government, maybe even suggest a merger. Viktor is pleased that you won’t be taken from him and didn’t even have to resort to full-out war. Viktor is saddened at your ill state, but he promises to help you rebuild, after all his influences will help make it all better.

Sweden – Bernard is quick to act the second he realizes that your marriage is under threat. He has a horribly awful plan.

First and foremost, you are hidden away. Just like normal Bernard, he will use one of his oldest and best-hidden hiding places. For anyone that is curious, his best hiding spot is like a big hobbit hole. Deep in the ground, warm and cozy. That little piece of nerdiness is where you will stay. It’s nice until you realize that only Bernard knows where the door is.

Well, Bernard then goes on the offensive. Taking care of any challenges that threaten his spot as your husband. Eventually, that’s not enough, so Bernard decides to target the source of his marital distress, your boss. With the begrudging help of his brothers, they take your capital. This is where you start to feel ill. For as your capital burns, so do you.

Once your boss is cornered, a simple secret declaration is signed. It is a law that decrees that you shall never be taken from Bernard. As nations, no regular citizens shall be alerted to this new law and it leaves you tied to him. After all, it is said until death do you part.

England – Oliver acts very similarly to his yandere self. Though he is much more direct as a yandere.

Yandere Oliver walks into your boss’ office the moment he hears about this foolish plan. His sources, the flying bunnies, would ensure that he hears this plan before you even have a chance to. At this point in your marriage you have finally calmed down, started to accept your place by his side, and he will not risk having you riled up again.

His smile will be like an angered Cheshire cat, wide and tight. No one will want to interact with him and those that watch him pass will pray for his victim. Once he corners your boss and making sure that no one will interfere, Oliver wastes no time drawing his knife.

He is clear with his threat. Let him and his dearie stay together or face a deadly curse. One that would affect all the choices he makes, and yet somehow not harm you in the slightest. Even if your boss gave in to Oliver would make sure scandals would abound, and hopefully, this would push him to either resigning or causing trouble. If your boss causes more trouble then he would have no choice, but to act on your behalf, and kill him.

In the end, Oliver got his wish. You two are still together, and the troublemaker is gone.

Germany – As a yandere, Luther will appear calm at first. It will feel like a trick being played by his kitten. Another attempt at getting away, that is until his own boss calls him.

After that phone call, Luther is quick to start fighting against the order. He starts by asking if you know of anything that could be used against your boss. Scandals, blackmail, family, or even secret pleasures that he could use to his advantage. If you don't give it willingly, then he's gonna force it out of you. Whatever you name, Luther is gonna use.

From there it is simple Luther has his own government back him with whatever info you had forced out of you. It makes for an interesting engagement with your boss. He isn’t happy with what happens, but he is willing to work with the German government.

At first, your boss may just extend the time you two are married. Maybe it’s another year or only a few months, but Luther will take it. This gives him more time to figure out something more damaging.

That more damaging thing is killing off your boss. Luther reasons that if he kills off your boss, the next one will keep you together. Luther will do it up close and personal, using his brass knuckles and then his firearm to finish the job. Sure, your nation will be in flames, but his government can clean up the pieces.

From there it's simple, he helped you in a crisis, and now your marriage is secure.

#2p hetalia #2p headcanons #2p england #2p russia #2p sweden #2p germany

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elvish-sky · 4 years

Text

A Love Forged by Knives

A.N: Ok, so this is kinda my first ever fanfiction and I'm really excited about it! I had so much fun writing and hopefully, I'll be able to write more soon.

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Word Count: 1660

Summary: Y/N gets hurt in an orc attack and Legolas has to take care of her.

Warnings: Some fluff, blood/wounds/battle, a little angst.

****

A Love Forged by Knives

When you had joined the fellowship, you hadn't expected there to be quite this much running. Sure, at first it had been just walking, admittedly lots of it, but walking was fine. Now, though, with the eagerness to get to the mountains, Gandalf was setting a hard pace. Aragorn and Legolas were easily matching Gandalf, even foraging ahead for a while, and Boromir would have done the same had he not been looking after the hobbits, all four of whom were struggling but still keeping up. However, you were not having quite as easy a time. Thankfully, you weren't the only one having trouble with the faster pace.

Poor Gimli was huffing and puffing, weighed down by all his armor and unable to match even your slow pace because of his size. There had been a lot of checking on him to make sure he was keeping up over the past few days, and on the rare occasion he passed you, he returned the favor.

While you were looking back at Gimli to make sure he was ok, you heard a shout that sounded like an orc. You spun around to see the rest of the fellowship under attack. Gandalf was whacking one with his staff while slicing another with his sword. Aragorn and Boromir had quickly drawn their swords and were dispatching orcs with apparent ease, while the hobbit stabbed with their small weapons, taking orcs by surprise. Legolas was interchangeably using his bow or daggers to fight and looked like a small, contained hurricane of death.

While you were taking this in, Gimli had caught up, and the two of you jumped into the fight, him with his axe and you with your two hunting knives.

As you whirled around, stabbing and slicing and blocking with your two knives, you heard a cry. You spun around and saw Legolas on the ground, with an orc looming above him. You watched as the orc brought his axe up, ready to bring it down and end your friend's life, but at the last second Legolas whipped out a small dagger from his boot, sprung up, and sliced the orc's throat.

You sighed in relief, and as you did you felt a sharp pain in your leg. An orc had snuck up behind you and slashed at you while you were distracted. You managed to stab and kill him, but then your leg gave out and you collapsed.

"Y/N!"

A shout came from Aragorn as he saw you collapse, and he made his way over to you, having just killed the last orc. Everyone else's attention was drawn by his shout, and Legolas rushed over, pushing Aragorn aside to get a closer look at your wound. It was deep and long, running half the length of your thigh, and you were bleeding profusely.

Legolas examined it, and after he had poked and prodded until you had to bite your tongue to keep from crying out, he said, "Y/N, this needs to be taken care of but we can't do anything until we camp for the night. It looks pretty bad. Do you want me or Aragorn to carry you until we can find a spot to camp?"

"No," you said, "I can walk."

You tried to stand up to prove your point but the second you put weight on the leg you hissed with pain. You stubbornly kept trying to walk, managing to make it about four feet until your leg crumpled beneath you.

Aragorn caught you and wrapped a piece of cloth around your leg to stop the blood, while saying, "I think it's best if someone carries you. We'll camp soon."

Aragorn swept you up into his arms but was quickly accosted by Legolas, who whispered something you couldn't hear. With a smirk, he handed you off to Legolas, who held you gently as if he didn't want to cause you any more pain. You placed your head on his chest and drifted into unconsciousness.

As you fell asleep, you didn't hear him whisper "Sleep well, melleth nîn(my love)."

Later, you awoke as even Aragorn was growing weary looking for a good spot to camp, Gandalf called back to Legolas to hurry up, and you wondered why you were so far behind the rest of the group. Unbeknownst to you, Legolas had been so worried about you that he had slowed his pace to make sure he could walk with the utmost care, so as not to disturb you.

Finally, Aragorn called out "I've found a camping spot!"

Everyone went over to him as he parted the branches to reveal a small glade, perfect for the night. Sam quickly got a fire going and began making stew while the others gathered around and Aragorn and Boromir set up all the sleeping rolls. Legolas gently placed you on yours and began unwrapping the cloth over your wound.

You both gasped as it was uncovered, as somehow it looked worse than it had earlier. he quickly made a dressing and placed it on the gash, while also doing something that you thought looked suspicious with a needle.

"I'm terribly sorry Y/N, but this wound is too severe to leave open. I'm going to have to give you stitches."

"What?" you exclaimed. "Legolas, no. I'm fine. I don't need you to sew me up like a doll."

He ignored you and asked Merry and Pippin to come over to hold your hands, and possibly restrain you from moving while he stitched. As he sewed, he told stories of other adventures he'd had over his long life, and you, Merry, and Pippin listed raptly. The tales he told were so amazing that they made you forget about the pain, and you drifted off to sleep once he had finished the stitches and placed another poultice on.

You opened your eyes to see a pitch-black forest surrounding the small glade, and a shape silhouetted by the fire. You could tell it was the elf by the shape of his ears. You made to rise and walk over to him, but you hissed as pain shot through your leg. Legolas was up in a flash, striding towards you with an expression of worry on his face.

"Y/N? Is everything ok?"

"It's fine," you replied, "I'm just cold, and my leg hurts."

"I'm sorry," said the elf. "Sip this."

"What is it?" you replied.

"It's an elvish sleeping drought. It should take away the pain and help you rest."

"Thank you," you said, and you took a sip and felt the pain begin to leave your body.

You began to fall asleep, but through the haze of drowsiness you felt Legolas kiss your forehead and heard him say "Sleep well, melleth nîn." This time, however, you heard him say it.

You sat up, your sleepiness gone. "What did you say?" you asked the elf, who was blushing like mad.

"Uhmm... nothing. Why?" he replied.

"Oh no, don't you weasel your way out. You called me 'my love'."

You could see his face wince with the words, and then harden into resolve.

"Ok, Y/N. I have been putting this off because I was never quite sure how you were going to react, but you've caught me so I guess I must tell you. I'm in love with you."

You gasped, heat rushing to your face as he continued.

"I've loved you ever since you sent that knife whizzing between Aragorn and Boromir's heads that one night."

Your mind flashed back to a night just after they had left Rivendell when they were all gathered around a fire. Aragorn and Boromir had been boasting about their skill with throwing knives and had challenged each member of the fellowship to a contest. Legolas had, of course, beat them both. Gimli had tied with Boromir and lost to Aragorn, and Gandalf declined to participate. Merry and Pippin both failed miserably, Frodo had been ok, and Sam had shockingly done pretty well. It was only after everyone else had gone that Aragorn and Boromir had begun to tease you. After a while, fed up with it, you decided to show them your skills. You had them stand side by side against a tree, and proceeded to gather the knives of everyone in the fellowship. Then, in about sixty seconds, you made a row of knives in between them, with the last on landing in between their heads. They both looked shocked, and the rest of the fellowship had broken out into applause.

Legolas' cough drew you back to the present, and you listened as he continued. "I don't think I've ever felt as scared as I did today when you fell. I'm going to do everything I can to help you heal, but if you don't want me here then I'll leave at dawn. I'll do anything for you."

"Oh Legolas," you whispered, "I don't need anything. I only need you. I love you, too."

He looked back down at you and slowly sat next to you. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

He made as if to get up and go to his bedroll, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

He lay down next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, careful not to move your leg.

As you both got drowsy, you whispered "Sleep well melleth nîn."

He whispered back "Gi mellin (i love you)," and you both drifted to sleep.

When you woke in the morning, the sun was out, the birds were chirping, and Legolas' soft breathing filled your ears. You sat up to see the rest of the fellowship looking and you and Legolas and silently each handing a few coins to Gandalf and Aragorn.

Legolas awoke, and, seeing the same scene as you, proceeded to yell out "Did every one of you bet against me except Gandalf and Aragorn?!"

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #legolas imagines #legolas imagine #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Text

Dimension Jumping Pt. 5

Comforting a grieving hobbit and time get everyone ready to go out!

Via the genius idea from katzrfsoa / Kat88

There's been mention of the reader not wanting to take the groups out, for fear of the public's reaction... so what about a cosplay convention? it would give the Reader the perfect excuse to allow them out, and they would wear their original clothes

----

This morning has been uneventful for the most part.

Breakfast passed by without issue and now everyone is off doing their own things.

You looked outside and took a peek in the guest room, but you still can't find him.

Sam, Merry, and Pippin are playing a board game you showed them; Legolas is doing his meditation sleep thing; Boromir and Aragorn are discussing something; and Gimli is stacking bread on Legolas' leg to see how long it takes until he notices.

Frodo, however, is missing at the moment.

Right as you were considering telling the others of his disappearance, however, you heard some shuffling from your hall closet.

You open the door carefully and take peer inside, not wanting to startle the small hobbit, and at first you don't see him.

There's more shuffling and you hear a quiet sniff, followed by soft sobs, and you then realize he's hiding behind the shelf.

The door makes a soft clicking sound when you close it, and right away the quiet cries cease. You didn't want to alert him with the door, you wanted to do it yourself, but it's too late now, so you just go with it.

"Frodo?" You call in a gentle voice, staying by the door incase he wants you to go.

"Y-Yes?' He calls back, not moving from his spot.

His voice is thick with emotion, and the sadness in his tone makes your heart ache painfully. And when you walk closer and see him huddled up behind the shelf, your heart breaks a little for him.

He hastily rids his cheeks of any evidence of his sorrows, though the puffiness around his eyes and constant sniffles don't much help his cause, and looks at you with a false smile.

"Frodo, why are you crying?" You ask with furrowed eyebrows, kneeling down in front of him so you may look at him at eye level (mostly).

"It's nothing." He tells you quickly, looking away from your compassionate face with the same sad frown on his lips.

When you don't move to get up or leave, his gaze slides back over to you and he realizes that you're not going to leave unless he straight up tells you to go away. This makes him sigh, but truthfully, he doesn't want you to go away. Not really. For having company in a time of sorrow always mends suffering.

"I... did not have a proper time to mourn Gandalf. I've been so caught up in the oddity that is this place that I almost forgot my sorrows altogether, but then this morning is all... came rushing back." He explains with a surprisingly even voice.

While he speaks you cross your legs and listen along intently, your hands folded neatly in your lap. When he finishes, you reach forward and place your hand atop his with a gentle touch, "I didn't know him, but I can tell he was very dear to you. Honestly, I can't offer much advice, but I can tell you that keeping it all bottled up inside is not a good idea."

He looks at you with that sad face when you speak, and it prompts you to continue, "Also, I know everyone else can be pretty overwhelming or they just don't understand, and I want you to know that I'm always here to listen if you're feeling down, okay?"

Your words draw a small smile from the grieving hobbit and it elicits a similar grin from you.

"Thank you, Y/N. I... actually do feel a little better."

"I'm glad."

---

After your discussion with Frodo you rejoin everyone back out in the main room and let him recollect himself, going right onto your laptop to get some work done.

You're idly scrolling through a scholarly article you need to research when you see it.

An advertisement for some sort of comic book, cosplay, convention... thing in the area (no wonder you've been seeing so many oddly dressed people recently).

At first you almost scroll past it, but then you get hit with the brick of knowledge and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

"Yes!" You scream, successfully scaring everyone in the room and Penny who is sitting with you for once. "Ohh, my god. This is freaking perfect!" You exclaim, clicking on the link to get some more information.

Your eyes practically soak up everything on the information page, and, once you've skimmed through all of it, you look up with a bright smile on your face.

Literally all of them are looking at you like you've grown two heads, but you only clap your hands together a few times. "Guys, I just had a huge brain moment!"

The joke goes over their heads as per usual, but you don't let that deter you.

"Huge brain moment?" Pippin asks in confusion, looking at his cousin like he thinks he heard it wrong or something.

"Yes! I've figured out a way to take everyone out!"

That certainly gets their attention.

"You have?" Sam asks exuberantly, dropping his game piece so he can turn towards you and pay perfect attention.

"I have, yes," you start, continuing once you're 100% sure they're all paying attention, "So here's the thing, I knew that I could take out you tall boi's without issue besides having to find a hat for Legolas here, and I could explain that Gimli here has dwarfism," you pause at that and realize it may be offensive to him, but you continue once more, "but I also knew that there's no way I can explain away the hobbits, and then I found this gem."

You turn the computer so it faces all of them, but they only look more confused.

"There's a convention thing in town for the next week, and it's the perfect opportunity for me to bring everyone out! We just have to dress up the hobbits a bit and pretend that they're children."

At your explanation you receive multiple pleased smiles, and it serves to make you feel even better about your idea. "And you can all wear your normal clothes, too. And if someone asks who you are... I'll figure out a game or something you guys can use as an alias."

"Are you sure that will work?" Aragorn asks with furrowed eyebrows, sitting up from his spot in your arm chair.

"Um, like, maybe 98%." You confirm with a shrug, "It's better than 88% though."

He doesn't seem like he disagrees with you, so you look back at your laptop again and start to look for ideas to make them more believable as humans.

---

3 hours of research later, and you've successfully compiled a completely fool proof plan to smuggle this merry band of bizarre boys out of your house.

What you've decided is that you'll put some makeup over Legolas' pointy ears to make them look more fake since the concept of elves is not lost in this world. Boromir and Aragorn can go as themselves, and you'll put some makeup on the hobbits much like you will Legolas (they'll be children elves since there are no hobbits in your world) and tell everyone who asks how they look so good that you're a professional makeup artist.

Gimli, fortunately for you, was the easiest to come up with something for next to the other two humans of this group. You can just tell people he has dwarfism and that's why he chose to go as a dwarf character.

Everything is in order except for what you're going to do, though you suppose you should match their theme and be some sort of renaissance, maiden, lady, thing. You'll figure it out, though you do need to make sure it's convincing like theirs.

You decided to, instead of putting it off, go ahead and start working on finding a costume to match theirs.

A couple of searches later and you come across a really pretty dress that looks to fit their style, and when you show it to them they give you the thumbs up, so you order it with express shipping so it should arrive tomorrow.

It's a lovely flowy medieval dress *just look up flowy medieval dress and go to images, there are some good examples there*, and you feel excited just looking at it. Of course, there's no guarantee that it'll be the best quality, but it's got great reviews and you certainly paid a hefty sum for it.

After that's done with you head to your bathroom to see what makeup you've got, and you find that you don't really have any theatrical/special effects makeup. You're going to need skin colored wax makeup, powders, and contour stuff.

You're no makeup artist, obviously, but luckily for you, your goal is to make them look less realistic, so it should be easy enough.

It's surprisingly easy to figure out what you need to make them as convincing as possible, and pretty soon you've got a nice little list going on that outlines each thing you need.

Since you don't want to delay anymore, you head out of your bathroom and grab your bag while putting on your shoes, "Legolas, I'm leaving now if you wanna come with." You suggest since he stated his desire to join you in the one of the last chapters (:o).

When you call his name he looks over at you quickly, smiling a bit at your offer, "Yes, but you said I need a hat."

"Oh yeah! I have one, just gimme a sec." You tell him, walking over to a drawer.

When you open said drawer, you find a grey beanie with ease and toss it over to him, "Here ya go. Make sure it covers your ears... and uh, tuck your hair up into it too if you don't mind."

He does as you say with ease and, surprisingly, he looks just as good with shorter hair as he does longer hair.

It sticks kinda awkwardly at first, so you waltz on over and gesture for him to crouch down so you don't have to reach up.

Once again he does as you request and leans down so you may fix it.

You adjust it a bit to make sure it won't fall first, and then you smooth it back a bit so it'll also look stylish. And once you're done you take a step back and smile at him brightly.

"All done! Let's go!"

---

He seemed rather fascinated in the way your car works first and foremost, but once you got him to look out his window instead of watching you, his excitement quickly turned into awe.

When you both get to the ULTA store he follows you without hesitation and asks some hushed questions about things he sees, like the light up signs, other passing cars, stoplights, and some other things.

You, of course, answer each question happily and lead him inside, holding the door open for him while he enters and looks around the brightly lit up makeup store.

Right away you head towards the general direction of the nose and scar wax (it's multi purpose, don't judge me), forgetting to make sure that Legolas follows you.

When it does occur to you, however, that the blond elf didn't come after you, you panic.

You turn in a circle and only stop when you see him standing with some ladies who practically have hearts in their eyes.

Unconsciously you breathe a sigh of relief and head over with the wax in your little basket, immediately reaching up to wrap your arm around his, "I got the first thing on my list, come on."

The girls stop their giggles and flirting as soon as you show up and look genuinely surprised.

You give them a smile and nod in acknowledgement, not wanting to make them feel bad over something so silly before turning with your arm still around his own and walking him over to look at some contour stuff and other things.

They make some snide comments when you turn your back about you being a 'clingy girlfriend' and 'not pretty enough to be with a model like that', but you only ignore it and relish in the fact that you didn't make them feel bad over something as silly as a cute guy in a makeup store.

"Why are those women talking about you like that?" He asks in a whisper, leaning down so only you will hear his question.

You look up at him with a bit or surprise since you didn't expect him to pick up on that, before you smile, "They're attracted to you, and they think that I was being selfish with taking you away from their advances."

"Selfish? Advances?" He looks confused, but you only smile and turn back to the display case.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Leggy my boy."

"Leggy?" He asks slowly, looking at you in confusion.

"Leggy." You confirm with a nod with a distracted hum.

It isn't much later that you have everything you need, and so you go to the checkout and buy everything.

"Going to the convention?" The girl at the counter asks with a smile.

You smile back and nod your head, glancing up at Legolas before looking back at her, "That obvious?"

"No of course not, just the items in your basket always fly off the shelves around convention time." She replies with a giggle, ringing up all your items.

"Well, that's fair." You muse, putting your card into the reader to pay for it.

Once everything is in order she hands you your receipt and adds, "Maybe I'll see you there."

"Maybe!" You chirp back happily, liking the nice conversation going on here.

"You and your boyfriend have a good day now!"

You elect to ignore that.

---

On the way home you pretend to not notice the black car following yours and make small talk with the elf, answering some more of his questions and speaking idly on different things.

"There are so many odd, interesting things here..." He comments after a while, glancing out the back window. "Are you aware that, that car has been following us for the past 10 minutes?"

You nod and hum as an answer, "Mmhm, it's just Brian. He's probably trying to figure out who you are."

The blond knits his eyebrows together and glances back to look at the car again, "Should I do something about it?"

"The only thing you can do is ignore it. He went from lowercase 's' stalker to uppercase 's' since you guys arrived, and it'll only get worse if you intervene." You mumble, trying not to look in the rearview mirror at him. "It's fine."

"You don't seem to think it's fine." He challenges in the same even tone, turning in his seat towards you.

Instead of answering his question you look at him while you stop at a light and grumble, "I told you to put your seatbelt on."

"It's uncomfortable."

"I don't care."

"I will be fine."

"Not if we get into a crash, you won't."

The two of you stare each other down before he slowly reaches up and buckles his belt, never breaking eye-contact.

"Good boy." You coo in a way-too sweet voice.

"Anyways, I know we said as much before, but you needn't worry about that man while we're here." He continues despite your obvious subject change.

"I know." Your reply is softer and less defensive this time, for you really do appreciate it, "Thank you."

He looks surprised at your sudden gratitude, and his expression shows as much "For what?"

"For being you. For looking out for me. All of you."

This time he smiles and says no more.

---

When you both get back to your house you immediately put everything in your bathroom and get onto your laptop to view some techniques on theatrical and movie makeup, Pippin and Merry on either side of you while they view through the pictures and videos with you.

"That one looks interesting." Merry pipes up suddenly, pointing at a person to wolf makeup transformation.

"Yep, and way past anything I can do."

This pattern of going through pictures and viewing clips goes on for a little while until they two hobbits depart to have lunch, meanwhile you continue on so that tomorrow will be a success.

You're both excited and nervous at the same time, wanting to see how it'll all turn out but also dreading it incase something goes wrong.

You know the most important thing is to have a positive mindset about it, but it's kinda hard sometimes during your more anxious moments.

Also, there's the issue of Brian possibly following all of you...

Nah, that'll be a problem to think on for tomorrow.

"What time will we leave tomorrow?" Aragorn asks from his usual spot on the rocking chair, Penny still nestled in his lap as per usual.

"Around the morning. I bought the tickets already so we won't have to stand in line for too long... Hopefully."

"Thank you for working so hard so that we may see more of your world." He comments suddenly, stroking his hand down her fluffy back.

You tilt your head to the side and smile a bit, "You don't have to thank me."

"No, I do. You have seen to our every need and we no doubt pose to be a huge burden. Thank you, really."

His words make you flush slightly, and you look away shyly.

You've grown to care about all of them, so of course you would do anything to keep them comfortable at this point. More than anything you're just glad they see how much you're trying to make things easy on them. It feels nice being recognized for your efforts.

Plus, the added protection from Brian is pretty sweet.

"Anything for you guys."

#the fellowship x reader #the fellowship of the ring #the fellowship of the ring x reader #frodo baggins #pippin took #boromir #lotr gimli #legolas greenleaf #samwise gamgee #merry brandybuck #aragorn #lord of the rings fanfiction #dimension jumping pt. 5 #dimension jumping pt. 2 #frodo x reader

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bisexualcrowley · 4 years

Text

Girls do it better

Kinktober day 12: Fingering

Pairing: Donna Sheridan x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Donna when she first arrives at the island, and you show her the ropes

Content/warnings: Fluff, smut/nsfw, porn with plot, light cursing, one night stand

Word count: 2,302

Donna’s eyes widened, almost choking on her drink at the sight of the woman who had just entered the little café. You walked with an air of confidence while still giving off a humble vibe, the two balancing each other perfectly to create what Donna could only describe as an angel and she couldn’t stop herself from staring as you made your way into the building.

Strappy leather sandals clicked quietly against the uneven floorboards as you walked up to the counter and leaned your forearms against it, saying a few words in greek to the woman washing glasses with a warm smile that made the blonde’s chest flutter, now having a proper view of the woman who stood a few table-lengths away.

You were tall, or at least taller than Donna, with h/l h/c hair and warm e/c eyes that reflected the sea outside beautifully, your tanned figure wrapped in a short blue and white dress with golden trim that ended just above your knees.

Donna must have made a noise, because moments later you had looked over your shoulder to meet Donna’s eyes and she quickly looked back down at her book, blushing madly as the you let out a good natured laugh.

Donna allowed herself a sheepish glance upward and was surprised to see you nod your head back in her direction, speaking again in greek to the woman behind the counter before turning and making your way over to where Donna sat.

You grinned, leaning a hand on the back of the chair opposite the blushing woman and tilting your head to try and get a look at the novel laid out on the table.

“Whatcha’ readin’ there?”

Your voice was upbeat and friendly, and despite her embarrassment from before Donna found it soothing, looking up to meet you with a shy smile. “The Hobbit. I know, kinda nerdy, but I've always loved it”

You felt your already content appearance split into a huge smile and Donna felt her face heat up again, nodding towards the empty chair in invitation which you happily accepted, pulling the seat around so you would be directly beside the young woman before dropping smoothly into it.

“I’ve always loved it too! It’s so easy to get roped into the world, isn't it.” You grinned at Donna’s nod of agreement, and after a short pause stuck out a hand, which she shook without hesitation.

“I’m Y/n, glad to meet you!”

You spoke happily, shooting Donna another megawatt smile that had her stomach doing flips all over again. Dammit Sheridan, get it together, she silently cursed as your fingers wrapped around her own.

“Donna Sheridan, good to meet you too!” She returned, breaking off the handshake to mark her page and close the book, her focus now entirely on you.

“Well then Donna, what brings you to a place like this? Or more specifically, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You winked, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table the way you had at the counter, and despite her efforts, Donna found her eyes momentarily drawn to them, watching the sun glint off the bracelets lining your wrists.

You weren’t exactly sure what it was that had given you such a flare of confidence, maybe it was how adorable the woman beside you was, maybe the whole island was intoxicating, or maybe it had just been too long since you had felt attracted to anyone like this. Either way, it wasn’t important, the only thing that mattered right now was the way Donna grinned at your question, her face burning beet red and eyebrows shooting up as she giggled.

“I wanted a fresh start, to travel, see the world, that kind of thing, y’know?” She replied as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about you? You seem to fit in well with the crowd, are you from around here?”

“I wish! I’ve just been traveling, been on this island for a month and take off tomorrow. My parents didn’t take too well to my coming out, so what better time to get out and see the world, right?” You chuckled, jokingly striking a pose when you mentioned your sexuality.

Donna’s ears perked up at your words, and masking her excitement with a giggle, she continued along the topic. “Ha! I feel you, my mother’s already pretty disappointed in my choices, I can’t imagine how she’d feel if she knew I swung both ways.”

You shot a friendly smile to the woman from behind the counter as she set two drinks down in front of you on the table, and without hesitation you raised a glass, winking at Donna who replied with a tip of her head and a raise of her own drink.

“To being a raging homosexual” You toasted with a laugh, bringing your hand forward to clink your glasses together.

“To being a raging homosexual.” Donna replied, pretending not to notice the way your fingers brushed as your cups touched, the way yours lingered briefly overtop of her own.

The two of you laughed, enjoying the moment as your fingers brushed together again as you set your cups down. You didn’t miss the way Donna’s eyes flicked to your lips as you took one between your teeth, and you were sure she didn’t miss it when your eyes did the same to her.

Donna, immediately flustered, was the first one to look away, clearing her throat sheepishly and smiling at the floor. It made you giggle, it was clear she didn’t have much experience flirting with women, maybe none at all, and you found it adorable. You didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable though, and hoping to ease her nerves you leaned forward slightly, resting your fingers softly over her own.

“Hey, since you’re new here, why don’t I show you around the island? Lots of hidden treasures you wouldn’t want to miss” You smiled, your voice holding an air of comfort for the other woman.

To your delight, your proposition had Donna beaming and responding with an enthusiastic nod, leaving you giggling happily once again. Dropping a tip on the table, you stood up and made your way towards the exit, Donna trailing behind happily.

The hours flew by as the two of you wandered around the island, first to a little shop selling brightly colored jewelry, then to a run down building that Donna climbed up onto, dancing goofily as if it was a stage and leaving you both doubled over in laughter.

Next you showed her around the little town, introducing her happily to friendly shopkeepers, Donna’s eyes wide with excitement as you wandered between buildings.

Neither of you knew exactly when you had taken each others hand, but there were no questions towards the action. Donna’s fingers threaded between yours and you squeezed, looking to the side to grin at the blonde who’s face was frozen in an enthralled smile.

The sun was just beginning to set when you reached a small dock overlooking the ocean, which was now glistening orange and pink with the colors of the sky. You had seen a lot of wonderful things during your stay on Kalokairi, but you had to admit the sun sinking below the horizon as the waves lapped against the shore was one of the most beautiful.

It was clear that Donna felt the same way as you looked over to find her staring awestruck at the landscape, her mouth hanging open slightly with a smile ghosting at the corners.

You smiled too, finding yourself unable to tear your eyes away from your new friend. She really was gorgeous, both by personality and by appearance. The light reflected in her eyes like the warm glow of a fire, glinted off her lips like the perfect shade of lipgloss.

You caught yourself staring when Donna turned to face you, but you didn’t turn away the way you normally would. Instead your eyes locked with hers, and you slid your hand from its place clasped with hers and moved upwards, slowly and smoothly until you were brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, behind her ear.

No words were needed when Donna leaned into the touch, tilted her head towards your own, allowed her lips to land gently on hers. The kiss was warm, sweet, your connection deepening even more as you cupped her jaw in one hand, tangled the other in her loose curls.

Surprisingly to you she was the one to deepen the kiss, sighing against your mouth and pressing her chest against your own before nipping softly at your lower lip.

Your breath hitched at the action but you didn’t protest. Quite the contrary, you reached down, pulled her hips flush with your own as the two of you made out.

Donna moaned quietly as you moved against her and took the leap again, nudging your thighs open and sliding her leg between, pressing her own thigh against your clothed sex.

You let out a moan of your own at the sudden pressure, allowing yourself to pull out of the kiss, chest heaving as you caught your breath.

“There's... An empty beach house, just past those trees... Wanna move this over there?” You panted, staring at the lust blown eyes of the shorter woman, who nodded rapidly before grabbing your hand.

You took quick steps across the pier back to the beach, the two of you giggling all the way, Donna squealing when you swatted jokingly at her ass.

The moment you were inside the run down building you had Donna pressed against a wall, hands tangled in her hair again as your mouths smashed together in a heated kiss. There was no hesitation when Donna’s thigh nudged between yours this time, immediately pressing upwards and making you groan against her mouth as you ground against it.

Your head dipped to press butterfly kisses across her jaw, down her neck and settling at the dip where her neck met her shoulders, and Donna let out a pleased sigh at the sensation. Her fingers flew to the ties holding your dress on, undoing the strings in quick motions that left the fabric pooling around your ankles and revealing a lace bralette and matching panties.

You sighed when the cooling air hit your skin, smiling against Donna’s collarbone before pulling off to tug at her own clothes, fingers slipping her loose top over her shoulders and deftly undoing the fastenings on her jeans.

You hadn’t realized until the moment Donna’s clothes dropped to the ground just how desperate you were, and your mouth crashed against hers again, kissing with a newly found fervor that had her gasping against your mouth.

You couldn’t hold yourself off for any longer and reached down, stroking two fingers along the shorter woman’s clothed sex, finding her panties already slick with her arousal. No longer having the self control to be a tease, you nudged the thin fabric to the side and plunged your digits into her dripping cunt, to which Donna let out a wrecked moan.

You smirked at the sounds she made, taking it as an invitation to keep going, so at that you thrust in again. Donna’s lips clashed with your own desperately with each time you impaled her on your fingers, curling to brush her g-spot with each thrust as your thumb rubbed circles on her throbbing clit.

Feeling her release building embarrassingly fast, Donna quickly removed her hands from their clutch on your hips and shoved your panties down, plunging two fingers into you without hesitation

You writhed against her at the intrusion, whimpering softly as you fucked into each other without abandon.

It only took a few more thrusts to push Donna over the edge. One final slam of your fingers into her g spot and a flick of her clit sent her spiraling into an orgasm, her hand tightening and stilling inside you as the pleasure overcame her.

Your motions slowed but didn’t stop as Donna rode out her orgasm, stroking her walls gently as her cunt clenched around your fingers. When she finally pulled back she was panting, face flushed and lips swollen from making out so roughly.

You were about to open your mouth to speak, but before you could think of what to say Donna had dropped to her knees in front of you and before you realized it, her mouth was attached to your dripping cunt, fingers thrusting rapidly again as her tongue made contact with your clit.

She lapped hungrily at your arousal as she slammed into you, and it took no time at all for you to be thrown into your own orgasm, coming with a cry of Donna’s name as her mouth replaced her fingers, impaling you on her tongue again and again as the waves washed through you.

When she pulled off you were sure you looked as wrecked as she did, with messed hair, smeared makeup and face flushed red.

For a moment the room was silent aside from the crash of waves from outside, the two of you letting the moment sink in before you started snickering. Nothing about the moment was funny, but it still had the two of you laughing, Donna’s face bright with a smile once again.

“So, are you glad you came here?” You spoke first, biting your lip to hold back a giggle as you gave her a mockingly suggestive look, to which Donna replied with a howl of laughter.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am”

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middleearthpixie · 3 years

Text

In Time ~ Chapter Fifteen

Summary: Thorin brings a seriously wounded Amara back to Rivendell…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Amara of Rivendell (female OC)

Characters: Thorin, Amara, The Company, Kenia, Gandalf, Jassin,

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,535

Khudal Translation:

Maralmizi - I love you

Amrâlimê - my love

Tagging: @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @tschrist1

Kenia and Samblar must have heard the hoofbeats, for as Thorin tugged his mount to a halt, they were there, ready as he eased Amara from his arms into theirs. “Take care,” he said, ignoring the looks he received from both Healers, “do not jostle her.”

“We know what to do, Mr. Oakenshield.” Kenia’s voice was oddly gentle. “You can wait for her out there.”

She pointed to the colonnade leading to the Healing Room. He shook his head. “I want to stay with her.”

“That isn’t possible.” Kenia patted his hand, then pried it from Amara’s shoulder. “We have her now and she is in good hands. Trust me.”

He reluctantly stepped back, and for the first time, saw how much blood stained his shirt. Despite the packing, which of course was haphazard at best, Amara’s blood still soaked into his right sleeve, spattered his chest, and as he watched them whisk her away, his knees threatened to buckle.

Despite his stubborn will to the opposite, his knees went to sponge and he sank to the marble floor. For a horrifying moment, he thought he’d be sick, but thankfully it passed as he buried his face in his hands.

A gentle hand alit on his shoulder. “What happened?”

He looked up to see Gandalf standing beside him. He hadn’t heard the wizard’s approach and had rather forgotten they’d left him behind when they departed the night before. “Do you honestly not know?”

“No, I don’t suppose I don’t.” Gandalf sank onto the bench across from the doorway to the Healing Room.

Thorin glowered at him as he rose from the floor. “Did you know about the orc pack?”

“That they’d arrived here?” Gandalf shook his head. “No. That they once again were hunting you? Yes.”

“You knew, and yet you said nothing.” Thorin folded his arms although even seated, the wizard still towered above him. “You let this happen?”

“Elrond knew they encroached and it was why he’d instructed Amara not to say anything.” A heavy sigh wove through his words and it seemed to Thorin the wizard aged right before his eyes. “However, he did not know she had developed feelings for you and would tell you.”

“She was right to tell me,” he countered, irritation streaking through him. “Otherwise we would have stumbled blindly into the middle of it.”

“As you did this morning?” Gandalf retorted, shaking his head. “She should not have said anything. Had she kept quiet, Elrond would have most likely offered up a garrison of troops to escort you.”

“Perhaps he should have but told Amara that as well.”

“She was a fool to take matters into her own hands and defy a direct order from her king.”

“Her king should have been clearer.”

“He owes no one an explanation for his decisions,” Gandalf reminded him sharply. “What happened in that forest is a direct result of her foolish arrogance in thinking she knew better.”

Thorin couldn’t stand there any longer, unless he threw a punch at Gandalf. And since that would be terribly unwise, he began pacing instead. “She took two arrows, you know. Two arrows meant for me. And I will not speak ill of her, nor will I listen to you slander her.”

“Is it? Slander, I mean. Do you not agree she—”

“Enough!” Thorin’s voice boomed all along the colonnade. “I am finished with this conversation. If you’ve nothing to offer but criticism and blame, keep it to yourself.”

Gandalf drew himself up to his full height, which made him taller than any hobbit, any dwarf, any man or elf. “You listen to me and listen well, Thorin Oakenshield, this would have all been avoided, had she not taken it upon herself to defy Elrond’s order. You know this to be the truth as I know it to be.”

“We are finished here.” Thorin whipped about and stalked to the doorway of the Healing Room. He couldn’t see Amara, as Samblar, Kenia, and Valindra blocked his view. Jassin emerged from the terrace and barked orders at the other three, but they were in Elvish and Thorin spoke not a word of Amara’s language.

Bootsteps thundered along the colonnade and Dwalin’s voice rang out first. “What was that all about?”

Thorin turned to look first at Gandalf, then at Dwalin. “It would seem the Defiler had an heir apparent.”

“So, we do this all over again?” Dwalin just stared at him. “What will it take to rid us of them for good?”

“I don’t know,” Thorin growled, shaking his head. “But I will find out.”

“Do not be foolish,” Gandalf broke in, but Thorin whirled about to cut him off.

“Do not be foolish? I’ve had enough of being prey. I’ve had enough of being hunted by this filth. Balog. Azog. And now this—Magra, I believe Amara called him?—I am finished with it all. It is time to end this and end it for all time.”

“Thorin, think about what you suggest,” Gandalf told him, his voice void of emotion.

“I know exactly what I suggest. I will put an end to it.” Thorin glanced around at the dwarves gathered in the corridor, at Bilbo who stood with them. “I know at Ravenhill, I asked you all to follow me one last time. Now, I do it again. And it truly will be for the last time. Will you follow me?”

Bilbo stepped up. “I will, of course.”

Fili and Kili nodded and at the same time, chimed in, “We will.”

Triumph surged through Thorin as one by one, the dwarves stepped up and Gandalf leaned on his staff for a moment, then turned and walked away without another word. Fine. Let him walk away. Thorin didn’t care. At that moment, all the mattered was finding Magra and dispatching him, and the rest of his foul army, for good.

“Mr. Oakenshield?”

He spun about at Kenia’s soft voice. His heart sank, his gut kinked, first at the blood streaking her pale green dress and then at the somber expression on her face. His throat squeezed shut, his, “Yes?” emerging as barely a whisper.

“We are doing all we can, but…”

“Don’t stop,” he told her, shaking his head. “Don’t stop until you have exhausted every avenue and every able body. Please.”

“We won’t, but I thought you should prepare yourself.” Her eyes grew shiny and red. “I don’t think—”

“So don’t think.” Thorin backed away from her, his hand going to the Orcrist’s handle, although the blade remained sheathed. He certainly couldn’t strike down the elf helping Amara. He couldn’t help wanting too, though. Couldn’t help reaching for his sword. It was instinctive. “Don’t think, just go and fix her. And when she awakes, tell her I’ll be back as soon as I’ve killed the filth who did this to her.” He glanced at his nephews, bracing for their reaction as he added, “Tell her maralmizi.”

Both Fili and Kili let out chuckles, while Kenia’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand that. I don’t speak khuzdal.”

“Amara does.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Kili’s smirk. Ignoring it, he added, “She will know what it means and tell her I promise she will hear it from my own lips when I return.”

“Kenia!” Valindra’s shout rang along the corridor. “We need you! Now!”

“Go.” Thorin nodded toward the Healing Room and as she sprinted off, he turned back to the others. “And we are going as well.”

He didn’t wait for anyone to respond, but turned heel and strode back toward the front of the palace. He was through sneaking along hidden pathways and through foliage and under cover of darkness. He would face Magra head on and wanted the orc filth to get a good look at his face as he learned what happened when one tried to kill one of Durin’s sons. Or the woman one of said sons loved.

But, there was nothing to stop Kili from elbowing him roughly in the side. “Maralmizi, eh? Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t she an elf?”

“Shut up, Kili,” he growled without looking at him.

“I mean, she’s a pretty elf, of course, but… she’s an elf.” Kili nudged him again. “Want to tell us again where you disappeared to last eve?”

“Shut up.”

Kili let out a bark of laughter. “I suppose that answers that.”

Thorin ignored him, marching ahead. He would take far more ribbing, no doubt, and in time, he would also see the humor in it. But for now, he had to focus on Magra, for if he let his thoughts wander, if he allowed himself to get distracted, it would not end well at all and he was determined that not only would it end, but he would be the victor.

“Uncle,” Fili fell into step alongside him, “is that where you vanished to last eve?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “it was. I was with her and before you ask, I’ll not offer up any details, so save your breath.”

Fili chuckled. “I told you once you noticed, you’d see how beautiful she was. It’s only too bad she prefers you to me.”

Thorin shrugged. “She has good taste.”

“Funny.”

“No details? Well, that’s no fun,” Kili pouted.

Thorin shot him a long look. “That is because you are still a boy and have some growing up left to do. One day, you will understand perfectly.”

With that, he marched ahead of them, impatient to face off with Magra. Impatient to be done with everything ahead of him and to return to Rivendell. When he took his leave of the elven kingdom the next time, it would be with Amara at his side.

Everything hurt.

And yet, it didn’t.

Amara floated, at peace, in a warm sea, with the sun shining down on her. Her fingers trailed through the water. She felt as if she could remain there forever, her face to the sun, the warmth weaving through her.

The water went still, became the grass in the sun-splashed courtyard. But then clouds slid before the sun, the skies going gray, then black. Those clouds parted, and overhead sparkled white gemstones of pure starlight.

Thorin was there.

Amrâlimê.

He came up over her, his hair tumbling forward around them to block the moonbeams, and placed his hands on either side of her shoulders before lowering to meet her lips once more. Ever so gently, he lowered himself against her, easing a thigh between hers. She caught hold of the lacings on his shirt and tugged the cord free, then slid her hands down to catch the bottom of it and pulled.

The heavy fabric skimmed along his back, over his head, and he lifted first one arm, then the other, to allow her to tug it from him. She eased her arms about his middle, her hands flat against his smooth, hot back, and pulled him flush against her.

As his body came into contact with hers, fire shot through her, but this was not the blissful fire of desire, or the sensual fire of arousal. This was painful. Agonizing. Pain one fought to get away from, but no matter how she moved, it remained. It worsened. Thorin vanished as if he never even existed. Had she imagined him? Imagined all of it? No, she couldn’t possibly have dreamed him up… he had to be real. The things he’d made her feel, they had be real as well.

Didn’t he?

Didn’t they?

“Thorin…?” It hurt to draw much breath, so his name floated to her lips as a thin whisper.

“Shhh….” A gentle hand came to rest on her forehead. “He is not here.”

“Where—” Her throat was so dry, her lips stung from being chapped. She licked them, drew in as deep a breath as her torn flesh and muscle would allow, and tried again. “Where is he?”

“Gone. He left.”

“What?” She tried to force her eyelids to rise, but they were still so heavy, they refused to open to more than a mere slit. Not that it mattered. They also refused to focus. “Where… what happened?”

“You need to rest.” The voice was so familiar. Soft and comforting, but not very deep. Jassin. Jassin was at her bedside, he lay a cool, wet cloth where his hand had been on her forehead. “So sleep.”

“Jassin?” Kenia’s voice reached Amara’s ears. “How is she doing?”

“She’s asking for the dwarf.”

“Thorin?”

“Yes.”

“He will be back.”

“What?”

“I spoke to him before.” Kenia’s voice grew louder and her hand came to rest on Amara’s shoulder. “Rest, now. He will return before long.”

To Jassin, she said, “Will you fetch more valerian root from the garden? We are running low.”

“Of course.”

A chair scraped along the floor. The soft rustle of skirts moving filled the silence. Then, Kenia’s voice came soft, her lips almost touching Amara’s ear as she murmured, “Your dwarf will return. He said to tell you maralmizi? That you would understand?”

Amara managed to turn her head and open her eyes enough to see Kenia. She smiled. “I do understand.”

“Good.” Kenia smiled. “For I have no idea what I just told you.”

“I love you.”

“Well, I’m fond of you, too, but—”

“No.” Amara laughed weakly, then groaned as fire bounced through her. “That’s what maralmizi means. He loves me.”

“And what about you?”

She nodded slowly. “He knows.” She tried to draw another breath, tried to avoid the fire to no avail. “What happened?”

“You took two arrows,” Kenia told her, lifting the cloth from her forehead. “And before you ask, yes, Jassin made certain they were not morgul shafts.”

Relief surged through her. At least that was one less worry. “Good.”

“So, tell me, what happened between you and Thorin? Did you sleep with him?”

“I am so very tired.”

“Oh, unfair.” Kenia smoothed her hair away from her face. “Promise me you will share when you feel better? And I mean all the details.”

“I promise nothing. But perhaps I will share some of them.”

“The good ones.”

“Kenia!” Amara couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice, even though it hurt something fierce to do so.

“I know, I am terrible. But, he is so very handsome…”

“He is.” Amara nodded slowly, her thoughts coming slower and foggier now. “So very handsome, indeed. The handsomest dwarf I’ve ever seen.”

“Sleep now. You’ve had a rough day.”

“Kenia?”

“What, love?”

“He said he’d return,” she managed to murmur despite her losing battle against sleep, “didn’t he?”

“He did. And he said to tell you when he did, you would hear maralmizi from his own lips.”

“Thank you.” Amara sank deeper into the soft pillows. She wondered if she was in the same bed where Thorin had lain following his arrival in Rivendell. Perhaps tomorrow she would be able to open her eyes all the way, and perhaps tomorrow they would focus as well.

She realized she had forgotten to ask where Thorin had gone to, and why he’d left. Then again, perhaps it didn’t matter, for she could ask him herself once he returned.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #AUJ #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU #Hobbit Medical Drama #Hobbit ER

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 7)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: descriptions of vomiting, borderline nsfw, a hobbit reference, fluff as always

words: 4.3k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: y’all are gonna think these bad things didn’t happen but like. tour straight from hell or something. anyways! a few chapters left, and then this baby is done. I’M SORRY THIS IS A BEEFY CHAPTER IT’S IMPORTANT FOR PLOT STUFF kinda. hope you all enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

----------

“As long as I don’t have to room with Pagey over here, I’m fine with anything.”

“Hey! Bonzo, come on!”

“What? You snore.”

Touching down in Detroit, the band drives down to the hotel, set on a good night’s sleep before a crucial performance. Stuck in the lobby, jetlag slowing their movements as their eyes drift shut briefly, they attempt to sort out the rooms for their stay. With three rooms available, the five of them work out who gets the coveted single room.

“I think Jimmy and Robert should take a room together: everyone already thinks they’re together anyways. I’ll take the solo room.”

Robert squawks in surprise, which turns into a full-blown coughing fit, as he nearly doubles at the waist from the force. Layla brings a hand to his back, rubbing a soothing circle into the fabric of his light shirt. How he wasn’t shivering in the face of Detroit in January was beyond her. The coughing finally ceases, and Robert sucks in a breath, breathing ragged from the strain.

“Are you alright, Robert?”

“Of course, little dove,” Robert answers, patting the hand that now rests on his shoulder. “My throat is just a tad dry, I bet.”

“Okay…”

“If you don’t mind,” Robert moves toward the sitting area behind them, casting a hand out dramatically to show it off, as though it were the height of luxury. “I’ll be over here, resting my weary legs.”

With a puzzled glance towards Robert, the group continues bickering.

“Jonesy, you know Jimmy’s gonna want to room with his petal,” Bonzo says, emphasizing the nickname, and Layla didn't even need to see his face to detect the smirk that was surely playing on his lips. “Robert can room with you, so I can have the solo room.”

“Excuse me, do we not get a say in this?” Jimmy asks, hands gesticulating wildly as he speaks. His cheeks are suspiciously flushed, as if he was embarrassed by Bonzo’s teasing. He’d never admit it, but the pink flooding his cheeks serves as evidence.

“Nope.” Jonesy and Bonzo reply in unison.

Robert, uncharacteristically silent, slithers up behind them, standing from his post on the comfortable lobby chair. Spotted by the concierge at the front desk, he puts a long finger up to his lips, and sticks a hand towards the solo room key that rests on the counter. Snatching it up with practiced ease, Robert smirks, and walks carefully back to his seat. Layla, casting an eye over the remaining keys, notices the disappearance, and locks eyes with the rest of the band.

“Guys… Where’d the solo key go?”

“What?”

“It was— It was just here!”

“Well,” Robert stretches as he stands, unfurling his long limbs. Raising his hand, the stolen key dangling from it like precious, golden treasure, he steps backwards jauntily. “I had better get to my room, now. It’s been lovely chatting.”

With that, he’s off, scrambling for the elevators, leaving his friends in the dust. Bonzo and Jonesy share a glance, and lunge for a key, walking away from the couple, who look after them with wide eyes.

“Do I really snore that bad?”

“I mean…”

“I’m injured, that means you can’t be mean to me.”

“Since when has that stopped me? Also,” Layla pauses, turning to Jimmy, unconsciously taking his hand in her own. “You took a pill before we left the venue, right? You’re not in pain?”

“I took one, but… I’ll be fine.”

“Jimmy—”

“Come now, let’s go find our room.” The guitarist pulls her towards him, resting an arm across her shoulder as they walk to the elevator. Idle chatter follows as they walk to their shared room. Unlocking the door, Jimmy pulls it open, to discover a finely furnished room, with a sitting area accented by maple wood. The blinds were pulled back to reveal a view of downtown Detroit, dark sky bringing the city to life. The only thing out of place, however, was the bed. A single, queen-sized bed, clothed in a tan comforter, sat in the middle of the room. The couple glance at each other, and, finding the other looking right back, force their eyes elsewhere. Layla, fishing a pair of pyjamas out of her suitcase, moves to the bathroom to change into the ensemble: a pair of grey shorts, and an old threadbare t-shirt, at least two sizes too big. Walking out of the ensuite, her eyes fall upon Jimmy, laying on one side of the large bed, dressed in green plaid pajama pants, and a soft cotton top. His head turns as he hears the woman approach, and he gives her a sweet smile. Layla climbs into the bed, turning to face him.

“You look cozy.” Jimmy says, nudging her lightly as she laughs.

“As do you. I would’ve expected you to be dressed in a black satin ensemble, if I’m being honest.”

The laugh that flies out past Jimmy’s cupid’s bow lips warms Layla to the core, and she can’t help but slide closer to the man.

“And why is that?”

“Your image, it’s just very… mysterious. It’s a good thing I know the truth, now,” She leans closer to him, slotting her head into the junction of his neck, resting on his shoulder. “You’re just a softie.”

“You’d be surprised, petal.”

“I’m sure.”

As they drift off, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeat, they can’t help but feel at home. Their arms wrap around each other, legs tangling together as they sleep soundly.

----------

The morning sun bright against her eyelids, Layla nuzzles further into Jimmy, black hair tickling her nose. All is tranquil, until a deep rumble pierces the fragile silence: her stomach. Layla extricates herself from Jimmy’s lax grip, and changes into a colourful button-up, tucked into a pair of dark flared jeans. Intent on taking the hotel up on their offer of a continental breakfast, she rushes down to the lobby. It’s when she passes the men’s restroom on the main floor, that she hears it. A groan, muffled through the closed door. This is followed by harsh dry-heave, as if someone had been throwing up.

“Uh… Excuse me, sir, ” She knocks on the door, hoping that whoever was in there could hear her voice. “Are you… okay in there?” Seconds pass, until a familiar voice breaks the tense silence.

“...Layla?”

“Robert?”

“Fancy…” A gasp stops him in his tracks as he chokes once more. Layla can imagine the scene: Robert kneeling on the floor, face pressed to the cool tiles, whatever he had in his stomach lost to the porcelain throne. Finally recovered, he tries again. “Fancy meeting you here, little dove.”

“Robert, I’m coming in.”

Opening the door, she’s met with an unpleasant smell, and the sight of blonde curls falling across hunched shoulders. Kneeling down beside the sick man, she puts a hand to his back, the other rushing to hold his hair back. He puts a hand on her thigh, the only part of her he could reach in that particular position, and gives it a light squeeze in thanks. A few seconds pass as Robert coughs out some more, until, spent, he sits back against the wall of the tiny stall he had run into.

“Are you okay, now? What happened?”

“I was… hankering for some breakfast, maybe a spot of tea, and I got halfway through a helping of eggs,” Robert explains, leaning his head on Layla’s shoulder, exhaustion lining his tan face. Somehow, he had kept his hair out of the way before she had gotten there, and it was as lush and as soft as ever. “When my stomach decided, ‘maybe eggs aren’t the best choice for today.’”

“Were you feeling like this yesterday?”

“Had a cough yesterday, wasn’t feeling sick, though. Must be a simple flu.” Layla maneuvers to place a hand on the man’s forehead, which feels as though it may just scorch her palm.

“Robert, you’re burning up!”

“I’m okay, little dove.”

“What is with you boys and saying you’re fine, when you’re clearly not?”

“It’s a habit…” Robert trails off, head slipping lower, chin touching his chest. He’s about to pass out, eyelashes fluttering gold under the harsh restroom lights, when Layla nudges him.

“I’m up, I’m up…”

“Robert, I need to go get you some help. Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Layla sits up, just about to get to her feet when an overly warm hand grabs hers.

“Layla, don’t go…”

“Robert,” she starts, running a soft hand through his unruly curls. The singer melts into her side, eyes drooping. “I’ve gotta get someone. Please, just… stay here. Do not move.”

She jumps to her feet, rushing out of the bathroom in search of someone that can help. Turning the corner hastily, she nearly runs into Peter, who had been making his way to breakfast, Bonzo at his side. Stopping the men in their tracks with a hand held out in front of her, Layla relays the situation.

“Guys, Robert’s got the flu, and he’s been throwing up,” Layla points to the bathroom sheltering the blond in question, and turns back to the two men, who look frazzled by her rambling. “Please, can you get him up to his room? I’m gonna get him some Gatorade, something to help hydrate him.”

Immediately, Layla’s eyes widen at the slip, though the men think nothing of it, passing her with a nod and scurrying into the bathroom to retrieve the singer. Walking to the vending machine in the lobby, Layla places a number of loose coins, dug up from the depths of her jean pockets, into the slot and punches the button painted with the design of a lightning bolt. The machine rumbles, and Layla soon holds in her hand a can, labelled ‘Gatorade’. Huh, she thinks, it seems that some things remain the same after all.

Dashing to Robert’s room, she finds him tucked into his bed, bare-chested. Layla sets the drink down, sitting on the edge of the man’s bed. Her fingers begin to thread through his hair once more, and he stirs.

“Layla?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Rob.”

“Isn’t… Isn’t Jimmy gonna be jealous?”

“Go to sleep, Plant. You’ll be okay.”

“But…”

The woman shushes him, and he relaxes into her touch, drifting off finally. Layla stays, guarding the man, until he wakes up. The Gatorade sitting on the bedside table goes warm, Layla too preoccupied with the bedridden blond.

----------

Layla, leaving the sick vocalist in Peter’s capable hands, walks out of the room with a yawn. He should be okay, though the same might not be true for his voice. If she thought it had been a little hoarse yesterday, it was nothing compared to when he had awoken. Thoughts occupied, she had almost walked right into Jonesy, who had just turned the corner. Layla startles at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, and looks up into Jonesy’s eyes.

“Sorry, Jonesy. Guess I was a little distracted.”

“No worries. Is Robert okay? Bonzo just told me.”

Layla looks towards the closed door of Robert’s room, scratching the back of her neck. Turning back to Jonesy, she nods, smiling at the bassist.

“He should be okay, yeah. His voice might be a little rough, and he’s got a bit of a fever, but it’ll pass.”

“That's great to hear! Oh, Layla,” Jonesy starts, bringing his voice down to a whisper as to not alert anyone to their conversation. “Can we talk about something quickly? It’s about the… time travel… thing.”

Layla nods, and follows Jonesy into his room, the bassist flicking on the lights. Bonzo had been with Robert ever since they’d brought him up, so the hotel room was completely empty. Perfect for a private conversion. Sitting on the bed closest to the eggshell wall, Jonesy turns to face Layla, his hands fiddling with one another.

“I may have found some answers. It’s not much, but…”

Layla jerks, stunned by the admission, as her mouth opens and closes, doing her best impression of a fish out of water. She shakes her head, willing herself to respond, as Jonesy patiently waits.

“Wh-What? How? Jonesy, you—”

“Do you remember how, when we first talked about this, I had mentioned that guitarist? The one that had the same thing happen to him?”

“Yeah, you said he’d just vanished, listening to some playback?”

Jonesy nods, giving the woman a kind smile. He looks down at his hands again, and continues.

“Layla… What do you remember about the day you came here?”

“I was just getting ready for work,” Layla recounts, her face a picture of confusion. “When the turntable I have in my room started playing out of the blue.”

“It… It started playing on it’s own?”

“It started playing this song… I swear I don’t even have it on vinyl, but the lyrics were… they were beautiful. I reached out to stop it, and… then I was in the middle of the road.”

Jonesy fidgets again, eyes flitting around the room as he works out the best way to present his findings. Finally, he catches her gaze, and takes a small hand in one of his. Layla looks up at him, worry gleaming in her dark eyes as she waits for him to speak.

“The other day, I placed a call to my old friend, asking about his experience. He said… He said that the playback started on its own. He didn't push a single button.”

“But that means that…”

“...That this… time travel, seems to happen almost randomly.”

“The music. That’s what starts it… Did he say anything else?”

Jonesy looks down, shaking his head, his short hair flopping across his forehead. Looking back at Layla, he smiles apologetically.

“He wasn’t very forthcoming about what happened… though he did sound… sad? When it happened, he did mention a girl... I’m not sure exactly how this works, or why it works, but, Layla… He told me he had been there for years. He was…”

“Jonesy?” Layla calls his name, the man in question jolting, having gotten lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. Locking eyes with the woman beside him, he continues, tone serious.

“He was gone for three days. If this is the same situation, I doubt you’ll have been gone for more than two days at most, when you go back.”

“This is,” Layla starts, hand coming up to run through her hair. She shakes her head, meeting Jonesy’s eyes. “This is insane…”

“Layla, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help. He just didn’t want to share, and—”

The bassist is interrupted by the sensation of arms around him, and sweet-smelling dark hair in his face. Hugging the woman back, he can’t help but be struck by the thought that he’s going to miss her, when she leaves. Pulling away, Layla swipes a finger under her eyes, obscuring any tears that might have fallen. Jonesy looks down at her, brows furrowed in concern.

“Jonesy, I… I want to apologize.”

“For what? There’s nothing to be sorry for. Is this like, a Canadian thing? I’ve heard you people apologize a lot.”

“I… I acted like… a bitch, to you all, when I first met you. I was rude, and I was… probably a little too sarcastic, and I never told you, or anyone, how—”

Jonesy pulls her in for another hug, and feels Layla bury her face into his shoulder, pulling away after a good while.

“I, uh… You probably don’t want to hear all the gory details, but… I learned to put up walls. To not let people in, ‘cause they’ll just leave. Looks like I’ll be the one doing the leaving this time…”

She chuckles wetly, scratching her arm unconsciously. Jonesy puts a steady hand on hers, stopping the movement.

“Layla…”

“When I got here, I was… scared,” Layla sniffles, looking away, too embarrassed at the admission to meet Jonesy’s pleading eyes. “Peter was the first face I saw when I woke up, and he was trustworthy. He helped me. You guys walked in and… I shut down. I put up walls, and I acted like… like nothing was bothering me.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain—”

“Look, Jonesy,” Layla interrupts, gaze still firmly on a scuff mark on her sneakers. “I just… I do appreciate everything you guys have done, especially you, and… I didn’t show that. Maybe I still don’t.” Jonesy gives the hand still in his a squeeze, prompting Layla to finally look at him. He’s shocked by the tears threatening to fall, her brown eyes dark with sadness.

“That’s not true. You make me smile every day, and you’re fun and… you’re like my little sister. It’s the same for Bonzo. He’s fond of you, even if he hides it, most of the time. He’s comfortable with you. You took care of Robert, and you comforted him. If you didn’t care, would you have stayed with him, stroking his hair for an hour?”

“Jonesy…”

“No, Layla, listen. Jimmy… God, he thinks so highly of you. He listens to you, which is a feat in and of itself. His face lights up whenever you’re around. The way he talks about you… We know you care. You care too much sometimes, if anything. You don’t have to apologize, because there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

Layla gazes into his stormy eyes, and nods, a fragile smile lighting up her face. Jonesy smiles back, and stands from his spot on the bed. Holding out a hand to help her up, Jonesy waits for Layla to take it, sliding an arm around her shoulders in a familiar embrace.

“God, Porter, you’re like…Bilbo Baggins, with how tiny you are.” Jonesy rests his arm on her head as he says this, smirking down at the woman.

“Says you, Jones.” Layla laughs, smiling gratefully at the bassist as they walk out the door.

----------

Slipping the ornate key into the lock on the door, Layla enters the room, spotting Jimmy sitting at the table near the window, a notepad and a ballpoint pen resting on the surface. The sunlight streaming in illuminates his face, as he squints against the brightness of it, writing furiously. Layla steps closer, taking in the sight before her. Perhaps sensing the eyes upon him, the sound of pen on paper ceasing as he looks up at the intruder.

“Hey, Jim. What’re you writing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing…”

Glancing at the paper strewn across the tabletop, Layla spots hastily drawn staves, neat music notes decorating the lines. At the top of the page, reads: ‘Tea For One”. It didn’t seem like there was much to it yet, but Layla couldn't wait to hear it.

“Hey,” Jimmy starts, a hand scratching at the back of his neck, tell-tale nerves making their appearance. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Robert’s still sleeping, Peter’s keeping an eye on him.”

Jimmy huffs out a laugh, as he beckons Layla closer with a hand outstretched towards her. Taking it, Layla moves into his space, running her fingers through his hair as he looks up at her. She takes a handful of the soft sable locks and brings it up to the top of his head, a curtain of curly bangs falling over his eyes. Layla laughs as he frowns, looking up at her through emerald eyes sparkling with hidden happiness.

“I wasn’t talking about Robert, petal. How are you doing? I saw you walking with Jonesy, and you looked… nervous?”

“Oh,” Layla said, dropping her hands from the guitarist’s hair, scrambling for an adequate response. “I was just… a little on edge about Robert being sick and all, so Jonesy reassured me.”

“He’ll be okay, Layla. I hear you took great care of him.” The tail of the sentence is accompanied by a soft smirk, as he gazes at the woman, eyes roaming head to toe.

“Are you jealous, Page?”

“Well… I can’t help but want you all to myself, you know.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Romeo.”

Jimmy scoffs, taking her hand in his, threading their fingers together. Layla looks down at the joined hands, and Jimmy uses this to his advantage, pulling her even closer to sit in his lap. She lands with a soft noise of surprise, and Jimmy presses his lips to hers in a quick kiss.

“Romeo… That’s a new one.”

“What can I say? It fits you.”

“How?” Layla tilts her head to the side at this, a finger pressed to her chin in mock contemplation. A hand strokes the apple of the guitarist’s cheek, as she smiles winningly.

“Well, for starters, you’re too romantic for your own good. I wouldn't put it past you to recreate the balcony scene. Full dramatics, of course.”

“That must make you Juliet then, falling for my charm.”

“I mean, I guess you’re more than just a pretty face.”

“Truly, I’m flattered,” Jimmy jokes, looking down at Layla, lips quirked in a smile. “And I thought you just liked me for my hair. You do keep messing with it, after all.”

“Well…” Layla giggles, tugging on a stray curl that frames his squared jaw. “That’s your fault for keeping it so long. Free real estate.”

Jimmy, smiling fondly at the woman in his lap, taps her leg, and she stands. Layla sticks a hand out to help him up, surely just an excuse to touch him again. Jimmy takes the offered hand, and places a hand on her hip as he pushes russet curls behind her ear.

“Bonzo was saying something about a trip down to the hotel pool, if you were interested. I can’t swim myself, but I’d be happy to join you… If you want to, of course.”

“Sounds like fun,” Layla exclaims, face lighting up at the prospect of a fun night at the pool. “Who else would I splash when they’re not paying attention, but you?”

“I shouldn’t have offered…”

With a wink, Layla bounds over to her suitcase and pulls out a swimsuit, heading into the bathroom to change. Jimmy changes into a pair of shorts, forgoing a shirt, and sits on their shared bed to wait for Layla, who walks out of the bathroom, a hand running up and down her arm shyly. She clears her throat, wincing at the volume of it, as Jimmy lifts his head to look at her. A sharp intake of breath rings out in the silence of the room as his mouth falls open, blatantly checking her out. Dressed in a simple, sleek black one-piece that accentuates her curves, dark hair cascading down freckled shoulders, Layla stands in front of him, arms crossed shyly over her chest. Jimmy nears, a hand going to her elbow.

“Petal, you look…”

“Is it okay?”

His response to her question comes in the form of a heated kiss, hand moving from her elbow to her cheek. Finally pulling away, he looks her up and down once more.

“You look… gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Layla runs a hand across his chest, making the man shiver, mind going haywire from the electric touch. The man looks down at her with a question in his eyes, dark with desire, and she nods. Jimmy walks her backwards until she’s pressed up against the wall, the man moving further into her space.

“Is this alright, petal?” he says, smirk in place as he gazes into Layla’s eyes, teasing her.

“God, just kiss me.”

And he does.

The couple’s lips move in unison, noses bumping together in their haste to connect. Jimmy’s uninjured hand moves back to its place on her hip as he groans into the kiss, biting her lip as she melts into him. Layla takes the noise as an invitation, slipping her fingers closer to the waistband of the man’s shorts. They pull away, Jimmy nodding, his pupils blown wide, lips swollen with the force of the kiss. Layla’s hair is mussed, Jimmy’s hands running through it as they move together. Layla’s hand slips lower, as Jimmy's own rests at her shoulder, fiddling with the bathing suit, hoping to uncover what lay beneath.

“I hope you’re not having sex in there! Let’s go, the pool won’t be open all day!” Bonzo’s voice booms through the closed door as the couple spring apart, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed scarlet. With a huff, they walk to the door, pulling it open to find Bonzo and Jonesy, dressed for a swim.

“You guys look… Um… Did we interrupt something?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Layla and Jimmy respond in unison, eyes wide as they look at the rhythm section, who shake their heads in exasperation.

“Whatever, just…. Keep it in your pants for a little longer, please.” With that, Bonzo and Jonesy walk away, Jimmy and Layla scrambling to keep up. Finally reaching the pool, Bonzo and Layla dive in immediately, while Jonesy sits on the edge, legs dangling in the water below. Jimmy takes a seat next to him, slipping a foot into the water hesitantly. Immediately, he pulls it out with a gasp, much to the amusement of his friends.

“That was so cold!”

“How about this, then?”

A wave splashes Jimmy right in the chest, and he shrieks, curling up to avoid the spray. Layla laughs, having splashed him in the first place. Jimmy, recovered from the shock of freezing water on his bare chest, frowns at the woman. His eyes, however, held an air of mischief, as if he was planning something.

“Come here for a second, petal?” Layla swims closer to him, a smirk tilting her lips upwards, dark eyes dancing with amusement. She stands up when she nears him, slotting herself between his legs

“Yes, Jimmy?”

His response was to bring a hand up to her cheek, drawing her in for a short, sweet kiss, a small taste of what they had been doing until they were interrupted. They pull away, and stare into the other’s eyes, as if nothing else existed in that moment but them. Bonzo, sends a glance to Jonesy, who smirks at the couple, knowing exactly what was coming.

Bonzo sends a burst of frigid water at them, laughing uncontrollably as Layla, who had received the brunt of the splash, turns around, dripping hair plastered to the sides of her face.

“Oh, it’s on, Bonham.”

“Let’s go, Porter. ”

The two engage in a splash war of epic proportions, water flying everywhere. Jimmy and Jonesy dodge the tidal waves that jet towards them, as laughter bounces off the tiled walls. This was a reprieve from the bad luck that seemed to follow the band as of late.

It’s a shame it won’t last.

--------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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mithrilhearts · 3 years

Note

Spill all the juicy details about the dad squad scene in Dragonhearted.

Dragonhearted - Chapter 8 Dad squad scene, you got it! (Bungo, Bard & Thranduil)

- First time doing commentary on anything ever. Enjoy my rambling because I have no idea what I'm doing.

Commentary & scene under the cut

Bard pushed his way through the doors of the Prancing Pony, noticing just how quiet it was. The entire pub had been cleared and there in the middle of it all sat one regal-looking Elvenking. With Thranduil came a few other elves, and Bungo was already present as he sat quietly fidgeting at a table by himself.

“My lord Thranduil,” Bard greeted carefully. “I appreciate your patience while our guest here recovered from his cold.” Giving Bungo a small wave, Bard just took the opportunity to stand before the seated elf with a goblet of wine in his hand.

“I do not take threats against my kingdom lightly, but your request was hardly difficult to appease.” Thranduil tapped his fingers against the table at his side, the small clattering of rings barely grazing wood sounding like hammers in such a quiet pub. “Tell me of this dragon.” Thranduil looked so calm and cool that it was hard to get a read on the elf. He sat tall and proud and didn’t seem to show a single ounce of concern, but remained serious in tone. Any good king would take the threat of a dragon seriously.

I had a vague idea of how I wanted to introduce Thranduil into the story. I knew that he was going to be something of a key player when it comes to the conclusion of our story - no, he's not Gaston, and neither is Bard! Though let me tell you, Luke Evans was a DREAM for the live action. Anyway!

Thranduil was going to be more dismissive, I think in my original plan. Which, I don't plan a whole lot (which has changed a little bit over time), but I also have something of a backstory as to his interest in the dragon threat - which we will come to later in the story. I wanted to stick true to his character as being this regal and calm creature, a leader willing to listen to the concerns of others as it would impact his people. I know some people give Thranduil a lot of hate or depict him as a dick, but hey, not in here. Not TODAY.

Bungo burst from his seat and moved to stand before Thranduil, just in front of Bard. “To the north of your forests, sir! There lays a lonely mountain, and within is a beast! A hideous dragon with sharp teeth and claws and scales-”

“Bungo,” Bard interrupted, reaching forward and landing a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder to try and calm him. “Take it easy, Thranduil is here to listen, you need not rush. Just tell him exactly what you remember.” And hopefully, that sickness that had been plaguing Bungo didn’t muddle everything between reality and falsehoods.

One thick eyebrow arched slightly, bright blue eyes drifting between Bungo and Bard as Thranduil shifted in his seat. “I do hope you aren’t implying I am not aware of what lies at the borders of my realm,” Only slightly offended in tone, Thranduil eyed the halfling carefully while taking another sip from his goblet. “There hasn’t been a dragon in these parts for decades, Master Hobbit. I’m afraid you are mistaken-”

“He has my son! I am not mistaken, and if you, sitting there on your high horse, can't be arsed to look into it...I…” Bungo’s bold tone dropped, almost settling into something of a whimper. “Bilbo is all I have...please, you have to help me save him. The dragon is real.” Belladonna would have just marched upon that mountain herself and dragged that dragon out by the tail to fish out Bilbo safely. Bungo was not that brave, he wasn’t a Took, but he would do everything in his power to ensure he got the help he needed to save his only son.

Thranduil pondered this for a moment, eyes flashing between Bard and a few of the other elves who had accompanied him. He had a soft spot in that heart of his and considering he too only had one son in his life, a heartstring had been plucked by this hobbit. “Legolas, Captain,” A younger blond elf that resembled Thranduil stepped forward, alongside a redheaded elven woman clad in green. “Take a few of the scouts and head to the northern borders of Mirkwood. Report back on everything you see, but should danger be in your path, do not engage. If there is indeed the threat of a dragon, I will not have you face it alone.”

Oh, Bungo. Poor sweet Bungo. I remember when I first started this story that I was going to have Belladonna be the surviving parent, but then I figured the story would end as soon as it started. Can you imagine? If Belladonna had been the one to try and take a coin and Thorin got snarly with her, she'd just tear him in half. I knew I wanted a "softer" parent, less adventurous. Plus, I don't think we see a lot of Bungo in fics! Or so I've been told. He's been fantastic for me.

His pleas to Thranduil and Bard trying to ease him are just...ugh. All three of them in this room are single dads, they know the importance of their kids and care for them deeply in their own way. Bungo being desperate to start raising his voice to the Elvenking??? I have to think that that's the turning point in Thranduil's mind. Whether the accusation of a dragon is real or not, to ease the nerves of a panicked parent, how could Thranduil turn away?

This also gave me a great excuse to introduce Legolas and Tauriel, by the way! Will we see more of them?? Perhaps.

“My lord?” Bungo squeaked in disbelief.

The Elvenking was off his seat, the goblet out of his hand as he faced Legolas and Tauriel, stern in expression but not overly emotionless. He wasn’t made of stone, after all. “Do have care.” Raising a hand to his chest and clenching it into a loose fist, Thranduil bowed his head slightly, getting the same gesture in return from the two younger elves who had accompanied him. That was their dismissal, and despite how ridiculous this all sounded, it wasn’t as if Legolas or Tauriel would waste much of their energy in simply stalking the northern borders.

“Have patience, Master Hobbit. My son is quick on his feet. If there is a threat, we will know in due time.”

Bungo and Bard both looked a tad perplexed, but the hobbit fell into some grateful mumblings before grabbing a seat, leaving Bard a moment to pull Thranduil aside.

“Are you simply humoring him?” Bard asked lowly. It wasn’t his place to question Thranduil, but this wasn’t his first time dealing with the Elvenking either. “What if there is a threat-”

“Darkness looms in every corner, we deal with the shadows as they pose problems. I don’t see there being a dragon hiding up north all this time unbeknownst to me. However, if I can ease some of the halfling’s worries…” Thranduil trailed and Bard kept his mouth shut. It seemed there was a silent understanding within the room.

Thranduil only had his son, Bard only had his three kids, and to put Bungo’s worries at ease for his only child? The common theme was that any parent would do whatever they could for their child.

“Let’s hope your son comes back with good news,” Bard muttered, a sigh escaping his lips as he felt a large dose of uncertainty well up in the pit of his stomach.

Something bad was coming and he could feel it in his very bones.

Okay, we know how the story of Beauty and the Beast goes, so OBVIOUSLY, someone's gonna have some nervous feelings about this dragon talk of Bungo's as being real, right? Who better than the Dragonslayer himself? While he might not outright believe it all one hundred percent, he is more inclined to believe in Bungo than he is to humor him.

This is also the segment where, yeah, dad squad. All single dads just trying to make their way in the world. I've already made commentary to Monica (the requestor!) that I imagine Bungo has further interactions with these fellas even after the story is over. Dads gotta stick together, right?

This scene turned out a lot nicer than I had envisioned. I had originally planned for like, a straight up dismissal, not for Thranduil to even humor Bungo, but I feel this adds a little bit more something to the story as things progress - and it brings out a kindness in Thranduil, and puts all three of them on the same level. No one is more superior or inferior than the other at this moment. I love it. #DadSquad

#razzy does commentary #tawarwaith #fic: dragonhearted

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sniperct · 3 years

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I like thinking about the LOTR aspects of RWBY, like Salem/Sauron and Blake/Aragorn, but I was laying in bed and thinking ‘okay what about characters taken by the enemy?’

There are a few that pop immediately to mind.

In general:

Orcs and goblins are descended from corrupted elves. (all of the ‘evil’ creatures of Morgoth and Sauron are in fact corrupted creatures twisted by the Dark Lords. Heck, Gollum is probably the baselines of what Sauron could make Hobbits into if he wanted. Makes you wonder what the Dark Lord based Dragons on! I might have a fic where I answered that question...)

But, remember what happens when Salem gets her hands on SEWs?

Specifically:

Hurin - Father of Turin and Nienor. Captured by Morgoth, he refused to reveal the location of the hidden city of Gondolin even under torture and so was cursed (or more specifically, his children were).

Chained to a chair high atop a mountain he was forced to watch the tragedies that would befall his children(there's literally an entire book about this). Morgoth twisted the visions so that he saw lies mixed with the truth.

'But upon all whom you love my thought shall weigh as a cloud of Doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair. Wherever they go, evil shall arise. Whenever they speak, their words shall bring ill counsel. Whatsoever they do shall turn against them. They shall die without hope, cursing both life and death.'

After his children died, he was released and in his madness sowed the seeds that would destroy the people of Haleth as well as seal the eventual fall of Doriath (an underground elven city and home of Luthien and Very Important Place in the history of Middle-earth)

Who comes to mind in this one, to me, is Summer Rose.

Of the others, I’m not sure what if anything fits, though I’m sure I could potentially apply parts of these to Pyrrha if I tried.

Maedhros:

A son of Feanor, took a terrible oath to get back his father's jewels(the silmarils), did things both horrific and heroic and along with Maglor was one of the few actually regretful of his actions.

Captured by Morgoth and hung by his hand from that same mountain for about 30 years. Eventually freed by his cousin who had to cut his hand off to get him down. Eventually got ahold of a Silmaril but because of the actions he'd taken over the oath was burned by it's purity. Flung himself into a fiery chasm in despair.

Celebrian:

Daughter of Galadriel and mother of Arwen and the twins Elrohir and Elladan.

Captured and tormented by orcs and poisoned by a fell wound. Rescued by her sons and physically healed by Elrond, but unable to fully recover her mind or spirit. Sailed West within a year to the Undying Lands in the hopes it might help her recover. As we know from the Ringbearers, the nature of Valinor probably helped set her at ease, as they were specifically granted permission to journey there to ease their suffering.

Finduilas

Sister to Gil-Galad the last High King of the Noldor, and a niece of sorts to Galadriel (Her father's uncle was Galadriel's older brother)

Fell for the mortal Turin, mentioned above, who was oblivious to her feelings though they became friends. Her fortress city home was sacked by the dragon Glaurung. She was captured by orcs but Turin was enthralled by the dragon and so didn't notice, abandoning her (remember that curse?).

The orcs were waylaid by the Haladin, and so killed their captives (pretty much any woman they'd found in the city who hadn't escaped, see point #1 for their likely fate if this hadn’t happened). Finduilas was pinned to a tree with a spear and Turin regained his senses too late.

She was buried in a mound they called the "Mound of the Elf-maiden"

Fun fact! With the exception of an Aunt who we don't actually know the fate of, Galadriel was the only survivor of her family (including extended) except for those that stayed in the Undying Lands and did not sail to Middle-earth :D

When she sailed, she did get to see her daughter, parents, and some other family members who had remained, at least. But of her siblings she only has one left, and that was a sister who stayed in Valinor.

#rwby #lotr #speculation #kind of Stream of consciousnes'd this #lol

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the-marvel-ous-hobbit · 4 years

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To Slay a Dragon: Ch. 4

Summary: Radagast and Wargs.

Word Count: ~5300

part three || part five

Morning sunlight aggravates the pounding behind my eyes as I stare at the leafy canopy above the trolls’ campsite. The glare holds me captive as effectively as the burlap encasing my body. Each breath draws the smell of rich, damp earth into my nose. Garbled voices drift past my head, mingling with the birdsong. It might almost be peaceful, if it weren’t for the agony radiating from my shattered ribs.

I still can’t believe we made it through the night unscathed, broken ribs aside. I should be grateful the trolls in this land are as stupid as they are ugly. If it had been three of Skyrim’s trolls, we wouldn’t have been so lucky—especially with Kili throwing himself blade-first into a fight without a second’s thought. Idiot. I should be angry with him—the fire devouring my chest is basically his fault—but the relief at seeing the sun rise drowns out any sense of ill-will.

A vision of wide green eyes flashes in my mind, reminding me of the reason I jumped into that troll’s path. I’ve never reacted like that to save anyone before—instinctively, without a shred of rational thought. A sure-fire way to get yourself killed—or, in my case, seriously injured. But if I hadn’t, if Bilbo had been on the receiving end of the blow that knocked me flat, would we have survived the night at all?

I let out a slow breath through my nose, wincing and struggling to believe I just watched the same Hobbit who was scared to leave his armchair stand up to three fully grown trolls with barely a quiver. He saved my life.

Maybe Gandalf is onto something after all. Perhaps there’s no need for me to leap to Bilbo’s rescue. But something within me seems determined to protect him. If I were to give any thought to it, I might say it’s because I’m trying to make up for something.

I cram that thought back into its box and firmly jam on the lid. Not today.

“Hello?” A curly-haired silhouette blocks the glare from the sun. I blink, forcing my vision to focus. “Are you alright?”

Bilbo’s question fans the fire in my chest. Metallic warmth floods my mouth as I clamp my teeth down on a whimper. I have to get something to fix my ribs before I pass out. I squint at Bilbo, at his mussed hair and concerned eyes, teeth gritted against the pain. There’s no way I can even stand in my condition, let alone walk to get my pack. But the thought of someone else touching my possessions feels like a hand squeezing my insides.

Don’t be so stubborn.

The voice is as familiar as my own, and my heart aches to hear it, even if it’s inside my own mind. I can picture the exact expression on his face as he says it—the long-suffering exasperation on his hardened features contradicting the endless patience in his soft eyes. I swallow thickly and force myself to speak.

“I need—can you bring my bag?” The words climb up my throat, emerging in a hoarse whisper.

Bilbo’s brows knit, then he nods and disappears from view. I let my head drop back amongst the leaves and close my eyes, praying Bilbo doesn’t possess any tendencies to snoop. I doubt he would understand half of the things I carry with me, but they’re all I have in the world, and I’m not very good at sharing.

Snatches of conversation reach my ears across the campsite—the Dwarves discuss the night’s events in breathless, excited tones punctuated with bursts of raucous laughter. Their familiar noise is a welcome distraction from my laboured breathing and the bile rising in my throat.

Bilbo reappears, clutching my pack between his small hands. It’s half as tall as he is, and the breath whooshes out of him as he sets it on the ground beside me. Before I can fully register the next problem, he ducks his head and reaches to untie the sack. Even after weeks on the road, he still smells vaguely of lavender and sweet tea underneath the dirt and sweat. He fumbles a little with the knots, tongue poking between his teeth. His breath is warm on my neck, chasing spiders down my back. My fingers curl around an invisible blade.

I close my eyes and force my breaths to slow. This is Bilbo—he’s half my size and unarmed. Never mind that, he saved my life not an hour ago. Why would he go to the trouble only to pull a blade on me? The idea of him wielding a blade is almost laughable—this sweet, innocent creature doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.

But he’s not innocent. No one is.

A twig snaps. Opening my eyes, I see Bilbo standing several feet away, hands folded behind his back. He doesn’t meet my eyes, gazing off towards where a few of the Dwarves are wrestling in the dirt. The vice around my chest eases, but only slightly.

I struggle to sit up, my ribs barking their protest. I could just ask him to get what I need from my bag, but I’ve already defied my instincts one too many times today. A face flashes before my eyes—a certain red-headed Nord who would repeatedly test my skill and patience by seeing how easily he could filch my possessions, and grin widely at my frustration when I failed to conceal them properly.

The lump in my throat returns, thick enough to choke on.

After a bit of fumbling, and with my teeth clenched hard enough to hurt, I manage to retrieve my prize. The glass vial is about the size of my pinky and contains a deep red liquid. I yank out the cork and drain the liquid in one swallow. The potion burns down my parched throat, hits my sternum and blooms outwards like a mushroom cloud. Bones shift and crack, knitting together behind a fresh surge of agony. A whimper escapes through my teeth, and the pain subsides. Cool air fills my lungs, and they expand joyfully inside my newly-healed ribcage.

Bilbo’s wide eyes dart between my face and the empty vial. “What was that?”

“It’s medicine.” I kick the sack off my legs and wiggle my toes inside my boots, flinching as blood surges to the deprived muscles. “Of sorts.” Bilbo’s eyes shine with more questions, but he looks away, fiddling with one of the shiny gold buttons on his waistcoat.

With the pain finally gone, my gaze drifts to the three large figures across the campsite. Gandalf is busy examining the statues—he raps one smartly with his staff like a schoolteacher disciplining a student with his cane. The troll’s stone eyes stare off into the trees, forever oblivious. The dagger still wedged in its thigh glitters like a ruby encased in a halo of sunlight.

Leaving Bilbo and his questions behind, I roll to my feet and cross the glade to retrieve what’s mine. The Blade slides from the stone with no resistance, returning to my hand like a loyal pet. As its familiar weight settles in my palm, something else previously absent slots back into place in my chest.

Footsteps approach through the bracken a few feet from me. The slow, deliberate steps can only belong to one person. I duck behind the statue as Thorin emerges from the trees and strolls towards Gandalf. Though he’s half the Wizard’s height, he does his best to look down his nose at him.

“Where did you go to, if I may ask?”

“To look ahead.”

“And what brought you back?”

“Looking behind.”

I swear if I roll my eyes any harder they’re going to get stuck. Maybe Gandalf deserves some credit for saving our hides, but it’s also very possible this entire thing was somehow his fault. Thorin gives a barely perceptible nod of thanks, despite the tightness around his eyes that echoes my sentiments.

“Nasty business,” Gandalf mutters, glancing up at Lazy Eye. “Still, they’re all in one piece.”

Thorin doesn’t miss a beat. “No thanks to your burglar.”

Gandalf raises his chin. “He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.”

Thorin looks sheepish for all of half a second before he sighs through his nose. “And what of the Elf? For a supposed dragon-slayer, she wasn’t any help at all. She almost got Kili killed.”

My breath freezes in my throat, my fingers digging into the statue beside me hard enough to hurt. Gandalf holds Thorin’s gaze, their expressions a perfect contrast. Thorin’s thick brows form a harsh ‘V’ over his eyes, his chest rises and falls a little too rapidly.

“I made my reservations regarding her clear from the beginning,” Thorin growls. Each word is like a fist driving into my gut. “If any of my kin are harmed because of her—”

“Our agreement still holds.” Gandalf’s voice is perfectly flat, mirroring his placid expression. “You may seek retribution as you see fit, as promised.”

Thorin nods his assent, and the conversation moves on. My pulse pounds behind my eyes. The Night Mother’s breathy whisper hisses inside my mind, repeating the words of the contract she burdened me with over a year ago. The Blade twitches in my hand, yearning for blood.

Why did I let him live?

With some effort, I shove the Blade into its sheath at my waist and stagger across the clearing on heavy legs. Curious eyes drill holes in my back, but I keep my gaze fixed on my feet. Crouching by my bag, I dig through the contents, hyper-aware of the steel pressed against my thigh.

It shouldn’t bother me, knowing that Gandalf and Thorin have an agreement about my death, as though they both expect me to betray them. At one time, I might have applauded their foresight. But after all the effort I’ve made to repress my assassins’ instincts—the same ones drilled into me by the very person who haunts my every step—I ought to be granted some kind of reprieve. I thought I’d left the distrustful glares and concealed blades on Skyrim’s grey shores. How naïve I was.

Curling my shaking hands into fists, I force a lungful of air in through my nose, hold it, and slowly release, my eyes shut tight. With each slow breath, the heat gradually subsides.

His approach is silent, but I sense Bilbo’s presence before he speaks. He hovers behind the pale curtain of mud-smeared hair brushing my shoulder—I tuck it behind my ear and turn to look at him. The gold buttons on his waistcoat gleam as he bounces on his toes.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says.

I blink at him. “Why?”

His nose twitches like a rabbit’s. “I saw you save my life. I may not have much experience with adventures or fights, but I do know a thing or two about manners.”

With my hands tucked inside my pack, I slowly uncurl my fingers. “You saved my life too. We’re square.”

A tentative smile brightens his face, and he offers me a slight bow. Against my better judgement, I smile back. He strolls over to join the Dwarves—they’re getting ready to move off. Upon reaching them, he turns and waves at me, beckoning. I nod, motioning for him to go on without me. My eyes dart to the troll statues. Thorin and Gandalf are nowhere in sight.

I inhale one final time and push to my feet, swinging my pack onto one shoulder and my hunting bow onto the other. My fingers brush the hilt of the Blade, and something inside me stirs, sending a thrill through my fingertips. Perhaps I will fulfil my contract after all.

The trolls’ cave is located further into the trees, and is easy enough to find. The stench is ungodly—even standing outside the entrance, it’s enough to make my head swim. Gandalf leads Thorin and a few of the others down into the darkness, whilst the less foolhardy among the company remain out in the fresh air, taking stock of our situation and the gear we left back at the farmhouse.

I don’t feel much like talking to anyone—my thoughts are muddied by lack of sleep and snippets of the exchange I overheard between Gandalf and Thorin. I feel Bilbo’s eyes land on me repeatedly as we wait for the others to return, but I don’t dare to look at him. I don’t trust myself to control my expression, and if Bilbo finds out about my decision, he’ll go running straight to Gandalf. Wizards are far too unpredictable to engage in a fight. It’s just common sense to avoid confrontation with people who can bend the laws of nature to their will. The only thing to do now is pray for a quiet day of travel once we’re finished here.

“Bilbo.”

As if on cue, Gandalf looms out of nowhere like a wraith. I roll to my feet, alarmed at his silent approach, but he doesn’t even glance at me. He’s gazing down at Bilbo with a strange intensity, holding a sheathed dagger in one bony-fingered hand.

“Here. This is about your size.”

Bilbo stares at the blade like it might bite him, but eventually takes it. In his small hands, it’s about the size of a sword.

“I can’t take this.” Bilbo’s voice is a breathy whisper as he holds the dagger back towards Gandalf. The Wizard fixes him with a look that immediately ceases his uncomfortable shuffling.

“The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby.”

Bilbo’s eyes widen, as though Gandalf is trying to gift him a live snake instead of a magic Elvish dagger. “I have never used a sword in my life.”

“And I hope you never have to.” The Wizard echoes my thoughts, low and sincere. “But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.”

A cold sensation spreads through my gut. I turn away before my face can betray me. If the Wizard can read minds, I’m done for. I suck in a breath, forcefully shoving my fantasies of murder into some deep, hidden recess of my brain. Gandalf’s attention doesn’t stray from Bilbo, but I won’t be fooled.

I pause, lifting my head to examine the forest. The trolls’ cave is enclosed by a circular wall of rocky slopes, with only one way in and out. It’s actually a pretty smart place to hide a treasure hoard. Upon first arriving, I scanned the surroundings for potential threats, and was satisfied nothing was waiting to ambush us. Now, a rhythmic pounding that can only be footsteps approaches from beyond the safety of the rocks and trees, heading in our direction.

“Something’s coming!”

Thorin’s yell bounces off the trees, and the Dwarves swarm like agitated bees, readying weapons and moving into defensive positions. Bilbo stands frozen, clutching his new dagger with white knuckles.

“Stay together!” Gandalf draws a blade from inside his robes and strides towards the Dwarves, leaving Bilbo and me alone.

Bilbo turns away from the chaos and gingerly draws the dagger from its sheath. It’s simple but beautifully made—the blade elegantly curved and engraved with delicate designs. The hilt fits perfectly in his hand.

Just like that, the only harmless member of the company is equipped to kill.

Before I can get caught up in the opposing emotions, I cross to his side and we hurry towards the others. Branches crackle and snap in the distance, growing louder at an alarming rate. Footsteps pound the earth, too numerous to count.

Something big bursts out of the undergrowth mere feet from our defensive circle. It skids to a stop in a spray of leaves and dirt. I blink once, twice, a third time. For a moment I think I’ve inhaled Gandalf’s secondhand pipe smoke, because what I’m seeing cannot possibly be real.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!”

What fresh lunacy is this?

“Radagast!” Gandalf lowers his sword, a smile lighting his bearded face. “It’s Radagast the Brown!”

Wonderful.

Radagast the Brown presents a bizarre picture, even by the standards I’m accustomed to. He’s both similar to Gandalf—tangled grey beard, scruffy, mismatched brown clothes, massive brown hat, mage’s staff—and wildly different—Radagast is several inches shorter, somehow even more deranged looking, and has bird shit in his hair. As the two of them converse in barely-audible murmurs, I swear his hat moves. A quick glance around at the Dwarves’ expressions—which range from curiosity to fascination to poorly-disguised disgust—confirm I’m still not hallucinating. I might almost feel better if I were actually going mad.

As the two Wizards wander out of earshot to continue their conversation, movement catches my eye. My gaze is met by eight pairs of liquid black eyes belonging to the large brown rabbits tethered to the sled Radagast crashed in on. The biggest one regards me with a tilted head and twitching whiskers, each of us unsure what to make of the other. I wait for it to open its mouth and speak. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if it began reciting poetry.

Across the clearing, Radagast is speaking rapidly, gesturing wildly with his hands and Gandalf has become a silent grey statue. I catch snatches of words I don’t fully understand—‘Dol Guldur’, ‘Necromancer’, something about giant spiders and spirits of the dead. Bilbo sits beside me and peers into my face, eyebrows knitted. The air practically vibrates with unasked questions.

Radagast concludes his tale, visibly trembling and clutching his staff so tight it’s in danger of splintering. Gandalf reanimates, offering a pull on his pipe. Radagast instantly relaxes as a puff of herbal smoke wafts around his head. Gandalf leans closer to him, and Radagast fumbles beneath his filthy coat, producing an object wrapped in brown cloth.

The temperature plummets as Gandalf unwraps the sword. Bilbo goes tense beside me, and the Dwarves’ quiet chatter falls silent. A palpable sense of wrongness pervades the clearing, turning my blood to ice in my veins.

“That is not from the world of the living.”

The words settle around my shoulders like a heavy cloak. I’ve had dealings with creatures beyond the mortal realm—those experiences are scorched into my memory, and I’d rather not repeat them, thanks ever so.

Gandalf’s frown deepens as he examines the thorn-like blade, but he rewraps it after a couple of heartbeats. The dread dissolves and my breaths come easier, but the warmth fails to return to my body.

A low, chilling howl cuts through the silence.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo’s eyes dart between the Wizards and the trees. “Are there wolves out there?”

“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.”

Am I to infer from your tone it’s something much worse? Excellent.

An enormous, four-legged shape crests the rocky slope behind Bilbo. The creature is easily three times the size of a wolf. Its yellow eyes regard us for a moment, saliva dripping from bared fangs as long and sharp as the Blade in my hand. A growl rumbles up its throat, and it leaps. Thorin’s blade slices into the back of its skull, but not before it takes down an unfortunate Dwarf with its massive front paws. A second beast appears atop the rocks behind Thorin, and an arrow zips past my ear, thudding into its shoulder. Knocked off balance, it tumbles down the slope and is met by a mighty swing from Dwalin’s hammer.

“Warg scouts!” Thorin yanks his blade from the twitching body. “Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.”

“Orc pack?” Bilbo’s voice echoes my own disbelief. How did I not notice a pack of Orcs on our tail?

Gandalf advances on Thorin, face like thunder. “Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?”

“No one.”

“Who did you tell?!”

“No one, I swear!” Thorin’s eyes dart to me, then back to Gandalf. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

“You are being hunted.”

Brilliant.

“We have to get out of here.” Dwalin’s gruff voice is tinged with fear, his tattooed, knuckle-dusted fingers tightening around the handle of his hammer.

“We can’t, we have no ponies!” Ori skids down over the rocks behind us, Bifur on his heels. “They bolted!”

Another spine-chilling howl echoes in the distance. The Dwarves glance at each other, gripping their weapons tighter. Bilbo’s eyes are wide and frightened in his pale face. I hope Shadowmere has found somewhere safe to hide—he’d never abandon me, but he’s also not stupid enough to take on an entire pack of Orcs.

“I’ll draw them off.”

I turn to gape at Radagast, at the fierce determination blazing in his eyes and the bird shit caking his hair. Are all Wizards in Middle-earth completely insane?

“These are Gundabad Wargs,” Gandalf protests. “They will outrun you!”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits!” Radagast’s tone is utterly serious, and his eyes gleam beneath his ridiculous hat. “I’d like to see them try.”

I need a lie down.

Radagast might be a complete lunatic, but those rabbits of his can really run.

Beyond the trees, an area of open grassland littered with enormous, jagged boulders and smatterings of tall pines extends for several miles in every direction. Crouched behind one of these boulders, the company and I watch Radagast careen recklessly across the plain, a dozen Orcs on his tail. I can’t decide whether to stare at the bundles of furry lightning pulling the sled, or the pack of baying Wargs with Orcs astride them like horses. The sight is equally horrifying and morbidly amusing.

“Come on!”

Gandalf’s yell draws us away from the safety of the treeline and out onto the open, where Thorin quickly takes the lead. Ducking behind boulders and weaving up and down hills, we work our way across the plain as fast as the Dwarves’ short strides will allow, accompanied by a distant chorus of barks and whoops.

At least one of us is having fun.

Several times during our flight, the Orcs cross directly in front of us, though always at a safe enough distance that we don’t draw their attention away from the Wizard and his rabbits. Each time, Gandalf ushers us in a new direction with only a brief pause. At first, the zigzagging back and forth seemed nonsensical and fuelled purely by fear, but there’s a deliberateness to it. Clearly he has a plan, but I’m not sure whether to be relieved or nervous.

We scramble over more boulders, and Radagast’s sled cuts in front of us again, the Orcs even closer on his heels.

But something’s wrong. There’s one missing.

Thorin ducks behind another boulder, and the rest of us pile in after him. Beneath the Dwarves’ panting, I hear snuffling, low growling and claws clicking on stone above us. Craning my neck, I catch a glimpse of matted brown fur and glistening teeth—one of the Wargs is pacing around on top of the boulder. It’s so close I can smell the musky, wet-dog stink of its fur and the rotten stench wafting off its rider.

Further down the line, Thorin nods at the bow in Kili’s grip. Kili’s eyes bug, but he slowly draws an arrow from his quiver. In a burst of movement, he leaps away from the rock, twists and shoots. A snarl, and the Warg lands almost on top of us, half-crushing its rider beneath its bulk. The Dwarves ready their weapons, and the wounded Orc meets the business end Dwalin’s hammer. The others launch into the fray, hacking and smashing with no finesse whatsoever. Bilbo remains by my side, his blade quivering. Howls and screams echo across the plain, deafening and endless.

The Orcs charge straight for us.

“Move!” Gandalf yells. “Run!”

The adrenaline sizzling in my blood urges me faster, despite the burn in my legs reminding me I’m exhausted and out of shape. Small rocks and grassy knots threaten to snap our ankles with every step, but there’s no time to pay any attention to my feet. The Wargs are unbelievably fast and show no signs of slowing.

I lose track of how long we spend running to and fro across the cursed plain, screeching to a halt and abruptly changing direction every time a Warg blocks our path. If the landscape were flat, we would have been run down several times over. Still, the Dwarves’ short strides are no match for the Wargs’ loping gait. Though their speed and stamina is impressive, it’s not enough to outrun our pursuers.

“We’re surrounded!” Fili crashes through the grass as two Wargs crest the hill behind him. There’s at least one in every other direction—they seem to rise from the earth itself, forming a loose circle around us. They’re too far away to attack, but close enough to prevent us making a run for it. Desperate faces cast about every which way, searching in vain for an opening.

“Here!” I usher Bilbo towards another rock—our only salvation in an otherwise open and vulnerable position. The others hurry towards us as the Wargs stalk closer.

“Where’s Gandalf?”

“He’s abandoned us!”

Impossible. He was here a moment ago, and there’s nowhere to hide, and no way he could have slipped through the circle of Wargs. He’s simply vanished.

Looks like here is where we make our final stand.

“Hold your ground!”

The least I can hope for is getting to watch Thorin get eaten.

Gandalf’s voice rings out behind me. “This way, you fools!”

That’s just rude.

Unseen by everyone except Gandalf, the ground beneath the rock opens up to reveal a tunnel, presenting us with an underground escape route. I can’t see what’s at the bottom, but whatever it is can’t be much worse than a dozen ravenous Wargs.

Thorin hops up onto a rock near the entrance and ushers the Dwarves inside. A Warg breaks formation to lunge at him, but is cut down by an Elvish blade wielded with deadly skill. A growl ripples through the enemies’ ranks, and they close in faster. Below, I can vaguely hear Gandalf counting the Dwarves as they slide into the tunnel.

“Five… six…”

I turn to look behind me. Kili’s dark hair whips in the breeze as he launches to arrow after arrow towards the Wargs and their riders. Some hit their mark, others lodge harmlessly in the ground. His rhythm is slowing. The nearest Orc sneers at him. I yank the bow from my back and unleash an arrow. Kili shoots me a startled look, but grins and swiftly nocks another arrow. The bow hums in my hands. My arms burn with the effort, but still the Orcs keep coming.

“Kili!”

My shout is echoed by Thorin’s, and we bolt for the tunnel. I shove Kili ahead of me, hot breath on my neck and the stink of must and rot in my nose. Kili disappears, followed closely by his brother and Thorin. I barely have time to slow before the ground dips sharply. My knees and shins bark as I land awkwardly in the dirt. I lie there, winded and unable to move, staring up at the roof of the small cavern and waiting for the Orcs to follow.

The sharp blast of a hunting horn is the last sound I expect to hear. Dust rains down, dislodged by thundering hooves above. Arrows zip through the air and thud into flesh, drawing screams from the wounded and dying.

Something heavy tumbles down the slope, sending up a cloud of dust. Weapons clatter as the Dwarves jump to attention, but they’re threatening a corpse. Thorin bends to retrieve the arrow lodged between the dead Orc’s eyes. His face twists into a scowl.

“Elves.”

I barely manage not to roll my eyes at his tone as I pick myself up off the ground and dust off my trousers. Something twinges in my knee—an old wound that never healed properly—but a quick inspection confirms no new injuries. I glance at Bilbo—he’s pale and trembling, but otherwise unharmed.

In the ensuing silence, Dwalin’s gruff voice echoes from the back of the cavern. “I cannot see where the pathway leads! Do we follow it or no?”

“Follow it, of course!”

As the Dwarves move off, Gandalf murmurs, “I think that would be wise.”

I’m almost too tired to wonder what he’s scheming at.

The tunnel morphs into a deep, narrow cleft bordered on both sides by towering walls of solid rock. In some places, it’s barely wide enough for the Dwarves to squeeze through, let alone Gandalf and me. My palms sting, scraped and bleeding from bracing them against the rock. All things considered, it’s a small price to pay after the day I’ve had. Exhaustion envelopes my brain in fog, burying any thoughts concerning Thorin and his impending demise. It’s actually a relief.

Also, I hope Radagast is all right.

The sliver of sky visible through the crack above fades from blue to purple, and shadows engulf our path. The Dwarves’ chatter lapses into silence. A faint but noticeable hum builds in the air, lifting the hairs on my arms.

Ahead of me, Bilbo stops. Slowly, he turns to look at me, then at the Wizard behind us. “Gandalf, where are we?”

The Wizard glances between us. His blue eyes gleam unnervingly in the dimness. “You can feel it.”

“Yes. It feels like…” Bilbo glances at me, and I nod. With less focus on where I’m putting my feet, I can taste metal on the back of my tongue. “Well, like magic.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Gandalf says softly. “A very powerful magic.”

A voice bounces off the rock walls, reaching us in a stifled echo. “There’s light ahead!”

With a glance at Gandalf’s placid, unreadable expression, I follow Bilbo towards the smell of fresh air and the soothing sound of trickling water. The tunnel opens into the pleasant evening, and my jaw drops.

We emerge onto a small outcropping overlooking a deep valley. A settlement nestles against the opposite cliff face—white walls, golden roofs and delicate arches shimmer in the light of the setting sun, surrounded by lush greenery and vibrant gardens. At least a dozen waterfalls gush from the rock into the river far below. The heady scent of a hundred different flowers fills my nose.

As I gaze down at the valley, warmth unfurls in my chest and seeps into my muscles, spreading through my limbs and pooling in my fingertips and toes. I catch myself smiling like an idiot, and quickly pull myself together before anyone can see. But I can’t squash the comfortable peace that has settled over my body.

Home. This place feels like home.

“The Valley of Imladris,” Gandalf announces. “In the common tongue, it’s known by another name.”

“Rivendell.” Bilbo’s smiling face glows in the soft evening light as he gazes out over the scene. He seems transfixed, his small body trembling slightly against my arm. The Dwarves shuffle about on the platform, restless and unimpressed.

“Here lies the Last Homely House east of the Sea.”

Thorin rounds on the Wizard, his face a thundercloud. “This was your plan all along,” he growls. “To seek refuge with our enemy.”

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf snaps. “The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself!”

Bilbo and I exchange a glance. A laugh bubbles in my throat, and I bite my tongue to stifle it.

“You think the Elves with give our quest their blessing?” Thorin asks, voice tinged with something almost desperate. “They will try to stop us.”

“Of course they will,” Gandalf says. “But we have questions that need to be answered.” He raises his chin slightly. “If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, respect, and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me.”

What could possibly go wrong?

@moloko-tyan ; @bluelinkmp ; @inumorph ; @psychomanias

#the hobbit fic #dragonborn au #tes: skyrim #crossover fic #to slay a dragon

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years

Text

PERFECT SECRETS - CHAPTER 4

Legolas x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary: Mira. A short and unusual name for a short and unusual Elf. After an audience with Galadriel goes sideways, she leaves her birthplace Lóthlorien and the Elves for good. That is until a certain Gandalf asks for a favor. Come along on her journey, as she reluctantly agrees to accompany Gandalf on the quest to destroy the One Ring. She befriends every Fellowship member, except one. Legolas and Mira are water and fire from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other. Will this be an obstacle during the quest or is it going to make everything just a little more interesting?

Warnings: none in this chapter, just a stubborn Elf

Masterlist Perfect Secrets

Guardianofrivendell’s Masterlist

Everyone started to leave after the remaining Council Members had wished them a safe trip. Mira was still trying to wrap her head around it all. It slowly started to dawn on her that she was going to Mordor. Mordor. It’s not that she was afraid. She was brave enough, she had killed her fair share of Orcs. But this quest was nothing like she had ever done before. She had mostly been on her own, and now had to travel with nine others. Two of them being major dickheads.

“What is clouding your thoughts, my dear?” Gandalf’s voice sounded behind her.

“Why, Gandalf?” She immediately shot back.

“Because I was hungry, because I felt like it, it was the right time and because you wanted to. All answers to questions, but none to the one you just asked me. Let me ask you a question in return, Mira. Why not?”

Mira sighed, looking at the other members of the newly founded fellowship. Even though they had volunteered only a few moments before, they all looked so… prepared.

“Because I’m not ready. This is nothing like the quests we’ve done in the past, Gandalf. I’m sure they all have something to contribute like strength and skills. Filled to the brink with courage, all of them…”

She paused before she added, “Well, of one of them I’m quite certain it’s more stupidity and arrogance than courage but that’s not the point right now. Remember that I did not volunteer myself. You dragged me into this.” She poked his chest to back up her words. Gandalf wanted to say something, but she interrupted him immediately. “Don’t even think about bringing Galadriel’s words into this!” He raised his hands in defeat, chuckling lightly. “I was not planning to. Come, child, join me on a walk around the gardens.”

Legolas was talking to Aragorn, briefing him of the escape of Gollum. The reason he came to Rivendell in the first place. Not that he regretted his decision to join the Fellowship, it was the right thing to do and he would do anything in his power to protect the little Hobbit and help destroy the Ring.

He saw Gandalf talking to the hooded lady. Mira, was it? Everyone could see that she didn’t want to go, and he could hear her complaining about it to the Grey Wizard. Why was Gandalf so keen on bringing her along? What was so special about her? Legolas didn’t like her and that was nothing like him. Somehow she annoyed him terribly.

“Legolas?” Aragorn repeated. He looked at him in surprise.

“Welcome back, mellon nin. You were deep in thought! What troubles you?” (My friend)

“Lady Mira. I can not help but have a bad feeling about her,” he stated.

“And why is that?”

Legolas watched them descend the stairs, Gandalf a few steps ahead and Mira trudging after him. Even now she still kept her hood up.

“She is constantly hiding underneath her hood. Clearly she does not want to join us. Yet Gandalf insists. I can’t help but wonder why.”

Aragorn smiled. “It’s Gandalf. He always has his reasons.”

“I hope you’re right,” Legolas sighed. He was going to keep an eye on her, until she proved him wrong.

Mira walked alongside Gandalf through the many little garden paths of Rivendell. She had to admit it was very beautiful and it brought a certain peace to her. She felt almost comfortable being here. Almost.

“You have skills that will be very useful during our journey, my dear. Do not belittle yourself,” Gandalf began. “Your visions are growing stronger.”

She nodded. “They are, but I can’t control them. I’m vulnerable when I have them, they’re blocking my sight. It’s not something you want to happen mid-fight.”

“There are nine others including myself who can keep an eye on you if that were to happen. You have excellent fighting skills. I cannot see a reason for you not to join.”

She looked at the old Wizard, studying the many wrinkles across his kind face. They went through a lot together, and she suddenly felt the need to protect him overcome her. She thought about all the times she saved him and when he returned the favor. Maybe it was for the best she went with him, if only to keep an eye on him.

But then she noticed the twinkle in his eyes.

“Gandalf?”

“Hm?”

“What are you not telling me?”

“These gardens are extraordinary, don’t you think? Let us find Lord Elrond so I can compliment him,” he said with a knowing smile and walked away. Mira stood with her hands down, lost for words. He only did this when he tried to hide something.

“Gandalf!” she yelled before running after him.

Gandalf never told her what he was hiding and after a few days she gave up trying.

He did give her the advice to start getting to know the others before their journey began. Mira agreed, although reluctantly. She didn’t like talking all that much, afraid she would say something that would give her away. But then she realised they probably weren’t even alive back then - well, maybe the Elf was - and she started to feel more comfortable around them.

She slowly warmed up to Aragorn and Gimli, making her feel a little more at ease. She hadn’t lowered her hood, and they didn’t ask her about it. Yet.

During meals she preferred to sit with the Hobbits. Their kind and animated personalities made them ideal companions. She especially got along with Merry and Pippin, since Frodo kept mostly to himself and Sam was too busy worrying about Frodo’s wellbeing. It was nice to see how strong their friendship was. The only two members she tried to avoid as much as she could were Boromir and Legolas and she had the impression they were doing the same.

She sometimes caught them staring at her during meals, but it wasn’t out of curiosity or even boredom. She knew both men didn’t trust her. Legolas’ electric blue eyes turned cold and distant every time they met hers. If looks could kill, Mira would be slaughtered at least twice a day.

So to say the fellowship was one tight big family when they left a few weeks later… that would be part truth, and part lies.

Gandalf kept himself close to Frodo so Mira chose to walk with Merry and Pippin instead, sometimes accompanied by Gimli. The Dwarf took a particular liking towards her humor and sarcasm and sometimes the others could hear his booming laughter echoing over the fields.

Legolas kept walking around the group, sometimes going ahead to scout and report to Gandalf and Aragorn on his return. He never stayed with the group and for some reason that irritated Mira immensely.

She could hear and see everything just as well from her spot in the group, he had no reason to hop around like he was doing right now. He was just showing off.

When they came to their stop for the night on the 6th day, the Hobbits were exhausted. Gandalf and Aragorn hadn’t allowed them to stop during the day, not even for a meal. The days of constant walking without breaks started to take their toll. And she suspected they finally realized this wasn’t just some fun trip to Mordor and back in a few days. They hadn’t spoken a word for hours.

Sam unpacked his trusty pan and started cooking, but not even the foresight of food could lift the other Hobbit’s spirits up.

She let herself drop between Merry and Pippin. They hardly acknowledged her presence.

“Hey, it’s okay to be a little scared you know,” she whispered to them.

“We’re not scared,” Merry said proudly.

“Course not, and Gimli’s beard isn’t even real!” she laughed. When their eyes widened, she assured them that it was only a joke and she begged them not to go test the authenticity of his beard.

“I only said that to let you know that I know you’re lying, Merry. But like I said, it’s okay to be scared. I used to be scared all the time.”

She put her hand in her pocket. “Until I got this…”

She opened her palm and showed them what was inside: a blue-green gem stone, shaped like a small rock.

“What is that, my lady?” Merry asked her, looking at the stone in her hand.

She showed it to them, the blue-green shine reflecting in their eyes.

“It’s my good luck charm. It was a gift from my father when I was only a child. When I have this with me, I know it will all be okay.”

“Does it help you win fights?” Pippin wondered.

“It always does, I never lost one since,” she smiled at him. Pippin’s smile grew wider and it warmed her heart, glad to see her trick had helped.

She took his little hand and placed the stone in it. “Keep this with you,” she whispered to him. It wasn’t easy for her to part with the gemstone, it was the last thing she had that reminded her of her parents. But when she saw his face light up she knew she’d done the right thing.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, only courage, skills and experience can help you win a fight,” Legolas said to Pippin, before he headed towards the other side of the camp.

Mira saw Pippin’s smile falter and it made her angry. Who the hell did he think he was?

She stood up and went his way. Legolas stood tall on the top of a large boulder, scanning the surroundings for possible threats. He didn’t even look down when she reached him.

“What is your problem?”

His eyes met hers briefly, before he continued staring in the distance.

“You should not give them false hope.”

Mira scoffed. “I’m not giving them false hope! They’re capable of a lot more than you give them credit for!”

He didn’t react to that. In fact, he ignored her completely, his eyes locked to a point somewhere in the distance. Completely fed up with his attitude, she climbed the rock he was standing on and stood right in front of him.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she snapped, poking his chest.

“I heard you,” he answered.

“They joined the fellowship to help us destroy the Ring, the least you could do is help them in return. Yes, they aren’t warriors or experienced fighters like you and me.” He snorted at that, but she let it slide. “But they want to learn. And you talking them down like that is not helping!”

She turned around, leaving a confused Legolas behind, not sure how he should react.

When she wanted to jump off the rock, her foot slipped and she would’ve hit her head or made a nasty fall if Legolas hadn’t grabbed her under her arms.

“It seems like your luck has run out,” he challenged, easily slipping back in his previous attitude. “You might want to ask your stone back.”

“You’re impossible!” she grunted, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

When she stomped back to Merry and Pippin, she failed to notice the twinkles in Gandalf’s eyes had returned and the suppressed snickers from the others who had watched their interaction with mirth...

A/N: Let me know what you think! Or if you want to take a guess on what will happen next, be my guest :)

Taglist @ayo-cowbelly @fried-potato-balloon @galileostyles

#perfect secrets #lord of the rings #lotr #legolas #legolas x oc #legolas greenleaf #fellowship #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr imagine #guardianofrivendell

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the-lupine-sojourner · 4 years

Text

A Bond Not Easily Broken [Thorn Oakenshield/Elf!Reader]

Here is another request! This one is from @queenofmankind who is a very very sweet person and a joy to work with. :) I tried to include everything from our discussions, Queen!

Anyway, this fic is loosely based on the song Gemini Feed by Banks.

Alrighty! Let’s get into it! Please note that this is being put up with not much proofreading cus I’m tired lol.

I do hope you guys enjoy it anyway! :)

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

You never would have thought it possible, but now there was no denying it.

Your love, your One, was a surly, easily angered Dwarf King leading an attempt to reclaim Erebor from Smaug.

The trouble was, he didn’t care about the fact that the pair of you were likely supposed to be as One being before Iluvatar.

Thorin had been nothing but bad-tempered, gruff, and passive-aggressive toward you from the moment you’d joined the Company.

Balin had told you Thorin held an old grudge against the elves for failing to come to the inhabitants of Erebor’s aid when Smaug forced them from their home.

While that was a tragic tale, seeing the way he acted toward you soon banished any empathy you had held for him.

At first, he had the sense to at least grumble about you when you were on the other side of the camp where you could barely hear what he was saying, but within weeks he’d taken to insulting you and all elves to your face.

You tried to fight fire with fire, but that only enraged him more, so you tried to give him a better impression of elves by being nice.

You would set up his bedroll for him, make sure he got the first helping of the food, and fill his waterskin for him, among other things, but he’d only gruffly dismiss you with a ‘Thank you’ that was anything but sincere.

At the peak of your frustration and anger at the dwarf leader, you’d turned to Balin, who’d been a boon, accepting your role in the Company (something of a negotiator/ambassador from Rivendell) with the good grace you’d hoped for from Thorin.

You and Balin had discussed the emerging bond between you and Thorin, and you asked him if he was aware of the bond.

Balin shook his head. “If he is, and he likely is, he’s not going to be easy to win, lass. He feels he has been betrayed by Elves and his heart is hardened toward them.” That information helped you understand where Thorin’s attitude toward you came from, but it did nothing to ease your anger and frustration.

You yourself had been orphaned at a young age when orcs and goblins had attacked a band of elves who’d been searching for a new place to settle. Lord Elrond had heard of the tragedy and offered you and the few other survivors sanctuary at Imladris.

Why could you rise above your past when Thorin drowned himself in it? Couldn’t Thorin see the damage he was inflicting on himself by continuing to hold on his grudge?

You soon decided that, since Thorin was not acknowledging you, you decided to get to know the others in the band, to various degrees of acceptance.

Fili and Kili, Thorin’s nephews, were a charming pair, you found, and you felt at ease around them, often riding or walking beside them and talking about many different things.

You would sometimes notice Thorin glaring at you and the boys from the head of the Company, but you didn’t understand why he was so opposed to you talking to his nephews and thus continued your friendship with them.

And then, when you and the Dwarves had finally arrived at Erebor, it all came to a head.

He became positively nasty, lashing out at any who dared question him, and to you he was downright harsh and cruel.

No longer was he passive-aggressive; he was not hiding when he insulted you and your race. He even targeted you specifically more often, and his words were like knives in your heart.

No amount of talking and pleading from you and the Company could snap Thorin out of his foul mood.

Bilbo, that dear little Hobbit, had done his best to comfort you, but even he was dismayed at how intense this ‘Gold Sickness’ Balin spoke of gripped Thorin.

That evening, after the gruff but honorable bowman from Laketown (Bard, wasn’t it?) had tried and failed to negotiate terms for honoring Thorin’s oath that ‘all would share in the wealth of the mountain’, Thorin was in the worst mood you had seen yet.

It had been a foolish idea for you of all people to bring Thorin supper, but there you were.

“Leave it there. Begone!” Thorin barks, nodding toward a table nearby.

You set your jaw as you set the bowl down. “A simple ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.” You grumble without thinking. “Honestly, Thorin, I don’t know why you seem to hate me, but- -”

“Did you not hear me?” Thorin growls, rudely interrupting you and stalking closer to you. “I said ‘begone’!”

“I heard you. I am not leaving. You have no right to treat me the way you have, king or not!” You had suffered his ill will long enough. It was time to fight back. “I have tried to be gracious and give you time to adjust to my presence, but you have only grown worse! This mountain has driven you mad, Thorin. We’ve all noticed it. You are not yourself!”

“And what do you know about me, wench?!” Thorin roars, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I know enough!” You retort hotly. “I know Fili and Kili admire you, though I can’t see why!”

“Do not speak to me of my sister’s sons!” Thorin snaps, drawing away contemptuously. “The traitors.” he grits his teeth, whirling furiously on you, “I have seen the way you ingratiate yourself to them, and my company. Even the burglar has fallen to your charms. They shall soon see your true nature and break off your friendship, but at present they are still blind and foolish.”

You back up a step. That...that had hurt more than you thought it would. “And just what, may I ask is my true nature, since you apparently know me so well?!” You demand, all pretense of control of yourself long gone.

“You and your kin are all oath-breakers and cowards!” Thorin’s voice had risen in bitterness and fury, his eyes blazing with hatred. “Elves claim allegiance and swear fealty, but when the moment arrives for that oath to be fulfilled, you turn your back! You leave those you swore loyalty to suffering and in need!”

“I’m from Rivendell, you asinine Dwarf!” Your voice, too, had become bitter and harsh, the bottled hurt and emotions now flooding out. “It was Thranduil’s decision whether or not to help you defeat Smaug! Given his previous battles against dragons, he elected not to risk his subjects to dragonfire and slaughter! You hold a grudge against Thranduil, and perhaps it has some merit, but you cannot extend that bitterness to all elves, and you know it!”

“Elves are always the same! Lord Elrond claimed to know my grandfather, and yet no aid came from him when we had to forsake our home and flee!”

“He was too far away to offer aid!” You counter, pointing out what you thought was obvious.

But Thorin was too far entrenched in his anger to even notice you had spoken.

“The elves care for nothing beyond their affairs! Oathbreakers, every one of them!”

“I have stood by my oath to offer my services, in case you have forgotten!” You thunder, unwilling to stand by and be insulted.

“For my gold, no doubt.” You shudder subtly at the way Thorin’s voice became something of a hiss, “You and Thranduil are so alike, only offering aid when it results in riches or favors. There is no true loyalty in elves.”

The insult to your sense of loyalty, which you had always tried to uphold, was the final straw.

You draw up to your full height, eyes filled with furious tears and hatred. You could no longer believe that Thorin was truly your One, your love.

Fate must surely be mistaken.

“Then you will not be surprised when I take my leave.” Your voice was icy, concealing the hurricane of hurt and fury beneath it as you spoke with forced calm. “From the moment I decided to travel with you, you have been nothing but cruel and filled with hatred toward me. I have stood it thus far, but no longer. Do battle with Thranduil and Bard if that is your desire. Be slaughtered with your entire Company. I no longer claim allegiance or affiliation with you, Thorin Oakenshield. I sever my ties to you and your company.” You turn on your heel before the tears fell, cursing him in Elvish inwardly though your treacherous heart was almost willing to turn back, to see what effect, if any, your words had on Thorin.

His guttural, enraged Khuzdul, which you assumed was his own curses to you, made up your mind for you and you stalked from the room, tears falling down your cheeks and sobs wracking your throat as you retrieve your belongings hastily, unable to bear staying in Erebor a moment longer.

“Where are you going?” You jolt and spin to see who had spoken, the pack slipping with a dull thud to the floor. “You can’t just leave.”

Poor Bilbo was standing there, confusion and hurt in his eyes. You embrace him.

“You, Fili, Kili, and Balin were my only comfort on this venture, but I was wrong to leave Rivendell, I was wrong to think- -” You shudder at the thought of rejecting your one chance at love, but it had been made so painfully clear Thorin had rejected you first, so there was no hope for your happiness now. “I can’t stay.” You croak, voice half-strangled by a sob as more tears flow. “This place is torturous! I can’t stand it!”

“Please don’t go.” Bilbo’s voice breaks what little was left of your heart after Thorin had shattered it.

“Oh, Bilbo. I wish you the best of luck, but I cannot remain here. I cannot.” You lean down and retrieve your pack and the last few items, shoving them inside and securing the flap over the sack before slinging it onto your shoulders. “Please give my regards to the others.” With that, you string your bow across your shoulders and force yourself to leave without looking back, even though everything in you longed to find a way to stay, if only for Bilbo’s sake.

=#=#=#=#=

You chose to sneak into Thranduil’s camp rather than simply walk in, not expecting to find Gandalf in the camp.

You’d been passing Thranduil’s tent when you heard the wizard’s voice.

From there, you wait til he emerges and ask to speak to Gandalf privately.

“I see things did not happen as I intended.” He muses sadly when you explain yourself. “I had hoped he could resist his petty prejudices and the Gold Sickness, but they were more persistent than I realized.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Have you not felt the thread of fate connecting you to Thorin?” Gandalf asks.

“Like a shackle.” You confess, tears brimming afresh at all the things Thorin had said and done in his rejection. “He has rejected it.”

“I am not so certain, but that remains to be confirmed.” Gandalf comments shrewdly. “I am truly sorry you could not find happiness, [Y/N].”

“I was a fool to think I could love him and he love me in return.” You were so exhausted from the day’s events you couldn’t bring yourself to feel much of anything anymore. Gandalf’s kind arm went around you as your eyes begin to drift closed.

“Do not give up hope just yet, my dear. Thorin Oakenshield may surprise you yet.” Was the last thing you heard as sleep overtook you.

=#=#=#=#=

The next morning was agony.

Your heart, that treacherous organ which had been trod on and abused so harshly, yearned for the Company, and perhaps to continue attempting to get through to Thorin despite your words yesterday.

You noted in despair that overnight the dwarves had barricaded the entrance, doubtless on Thorin’s orders, so any entrance to Erebor was now impossible unless Thorin wished it.

The Company had foolishly shut the secret door once Smaug had left and now the only other entrance to Erebor was barricaded.

You couldn’t go back to the Company if you wanted to, now.

There was, perhaps, a part of you that had said the harsh words in the hopes that it would come as enough of a shock that Thorin would break free of the sickness that gripped him and beg you to stay.

You had hoped, should he have broken free at your words, that he’d become the dwarf Fili and Kili described from their childhood.

That version of Thorin, surely, wouldn’t have treated a lady, much less his One, the way the present Thorin had.

You hoped he might have gone after you, but it seemed Thorin was as cold and impassive as ever.

There were only two options in regards to the fragile bond between you and Thorin; you could either miraculously work it out and come to realize how happy you could make each other (highly unlikely) or you could sever the bond and live without the feeling of being with your One the rest of your very, very long life and perhaps even in the Grey Havens, should you be premitted to journey there.

When the thought of snapping the bond occured to you, you paled, clutching your aching heart. It seemed even now your heart clung to hope in Thorin, but you couldn’t see why.

But still, perhaps your heart knew things you did not, so you decided to wait it out, refusing to sever your one chance at love.

=#=#=#=#=

In the course of the day, things took an ill turn when it was revealed that the Arkenstone had been delivered to Bard and Thranduil as a bargaining chip for the promised gold.

Thorin, if it were possible, grew even more foul tempered, demanding the return of Arkenstone and vowing death to those who held it.

His eyes then glared over the army of elves and fishermen gathered before Erebor, and somehow he spotted you standing in the first few ranks of elves, unable to help yourself.

He grew so livid you thought for sure he would explode from the sheer force of his anger. He cursed you and all elves so thoroughly, tears sprang to your eyes.

“I was right about you!” Thorin roars, “Oathbreaker! Coward! Traitor!” He heaped insults in english and Khuzdul onto your head in utter contempt and fury as you stood shaking.

It’s then something happened that turned the tide of events yet again.

Bilbo spoke up. “I gave it to them.” Is all he said. “Leave Y/N out of this.”

Your heart clenches as the dwarf king’s fury and wrath were unleashed on the poor Hobbit.

Bilbo bravely stood his ground, berating Thorin for being so cold and cruel to you, and the company, and remarking that the dwarf he had met at his house would never have acted this way.

That was the final straw, Thorin declaring that Bilbo should be thrown from the ramparts.

You squeak in horror, tense seconds creeping by as no one moves to execute the unthinkable command.

Thorin then grabs Bilbo and prepares to carry out his own orders, Bilbo leaning precariously out over the edge when Gandalf materializes next to you, magic increasing his voice’s volume as he strides forward.

“If you don’t like my bulgar, please do not damage him! Return him to me.” The wizard’s presence seems to shock Thorin enough that Bilbo slips away unheeded. The dwarves tug Bilbo to the side and attach a rope to the wall, sending Bilbo down to Gandalf before Thorin could remember his wrath at the unfortunate Hobbit.

As Gandalf remarks at how poor Thorin’s performance as King Under the Mountain was, Bilbo races toward the wizard and you, who had stepped up to offer comfort to your friend after what had just happened.

Bilbo buried his face in your abdomen in fright, shaken at nearly being killed by a dwarf he had called friend.

Once you had clung to the hope that, given time, Thorin’s heart would soften toward you and he would accept you as his One.

Now...that hope had withered near to the point of death. Soon enough, it would succumb to the bitter venom Thorin had unleashed on you and it would die and you both would forever live with no other lover, no other person that you could love like your One.

Then, as tension rose higher still, an army of dwarves arrived, with a particularly rowdy dwarf at the head. As Thranduil ordered his army to face the newcomers, Gandalf explained that the rowdy dwarf was Thorin’s cousin, Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills.

And that, of the two dwarves, Thorin was the more reasonable.

You swore under your breath. There was absolutely no chance of peace now.

After a brief skirmish that quickly turned into war between Thranduil’s army and the dwarves’, there arose out of the earth a monstrous creature Gandalf called a ‘wereworm’, a nasty thing that ate earth greedily and left a tunnel in its wake.

It disappeared to continue it’s feast, and from the exit in the tunnel emerged a grotesque army of Orcs, some of which rode large evil wargs toward the dwarves and elves, who had stopped fighting in shock at this turn of events.

The battle was grim and gory and all around you was pain and death until the sound of a bell tolling out offered a brief respite. It came from the mountain and out of the hole the bell had made in the barricade came Thorin and his Company, charging the army of Orcs as the remainder of the Dwarf army regrouped around the King.

The battle continued on and, though you fought as well as you could, you knew it was only a matter of time til you were overcome.

Then you saw Thorin and a select few others (Dwalin, Fili, and Kili) riding toward Ravenhill, where the Orcs’ commander was stationed.

Shortly after that, despite your misgivings, you find a mount on the strange goats the dwarves rode and take off after them.

If the dwarves had not cleared the way, you would never have made it.

You watch as Thorin searches for the orc commander in vain. You stayed back, having left your mount at a distance so you could come upon the group stealthily.

You had no idea how Thorin would receive you, and you didn’t want to find out yet.

The orc commander (or so you assumed) then appeared, just as the group was preparing to retrieve Fili and Kili from the tower they’d been scouting, the large orc dragging Fili by the hair.

Your heart was pounding as you grab an arrow in your quiver. Sighting along the shaft, you released it swiftly. The arrow sunk into the orc’s chest, near the shoulder, not where you wanted, but it was enough that Fili was released to drop a worrying distance.

Luckily, Fili was able to survive, with a few minor injuries, by rolling. You sent another arrow into the commander during the chaos you created. This time, the arrow sank into the orc’s throat, and he gurgled, then fell.

That had the desired effect; the orcs retreated, dragging the body of their leader behind them. You jog out to meet the others and find Thorin staring at you as if you were a ghost.

You pressed forward, unwilling to stay and see what reaction he would have next as you race to find Kili. Fili was searching too and you soon found him.

You brought the boys back to the others, who embraced them and were generally thrilled to see the dwarf princes alive and well.

“I thought you disavowed yourself from myself and my company.” Thorin’s voice was shocked, but not angry, coming from behind you. Your heart hammered as you make yourself slowly spin.

“I...saw you ride up here. Something came over me. I’m not sure what.” You explain, unsure how to take his reaction. The orcs were still retreating, and behind you you see the large eagles that had borne you from the orcs after your escape from Goblin Town arrive and make quick work of the orcs before they could regroup and decide to attack again.

You were suddenly free to talk further with Thorin, or leave.

For some reason, your feet refused to move. You felt rooted to the spot.

“I owe you my gratitude and sincerest apologies.” He murmurs softly, more softly than he had ever spoken to you. You take a step back. This was a new side of Thorin and you weren’t sure how to proceed. “You saved my sister-son. But, the way I treated you within Erebor and at the gate this morning...it disgusts me to recall.” You know he means it but...there’s a part of you that tortures you with the thought that this isn’t real.

“It wasn’t entirely you in Erebor. That gold...the sickness…” You're unsure what you’re saying, but Thorin sighs heavily, head hanging in what might be shame. You weren’t sure.

“Aye, the sickness was there, but many resisted. Had I been stronger, I would never have yielded to the sickness. That, and I owe you still more apologies for my actions and words toward you along our road here. I have never once treated you as you deserve, and for that I am forever ashamed of myself.”

“Thorin…” You can’t help wanting to comfort him as he bares himself to you.

The others retreated, offering you and Thorin what privacy they could.

“No, please, Y/N, let me finish.” Thorin mumbles, genuinely contrite. “I have always strove to be an honorable dwarf, respectable, a worthy leader of my people.”

One of the things I admire about you, you muse inwardly.

“Mahal knows I’ve made a fool of myself many times, and failed to uphold the standard I wished to achieve. I refused to see the reason in the elve’s actions after Smaug came, allowing myself to be consumed by bitterness and hatred for far too long. I unleashed that bitterness and prejudice on you and I can never make amends for it.” He slowly takes a step forward.

Your heart begged you to embrace him, but your mind, still hurting from all the terrible curses and words Thorin had hurled at you, bade you stay where you were.

“If you would allow me to start anew, I should like to regain your trust and show you the way dwarves display their love.” His hand slowly reaches for yours and you can’t find it in you to resist.

You even allow him to lay a gentle, feather-like kiss on your knuckles, your skin prickling pleasantly at the sensation.

This was all you wanted, to love and be loved.

“...I think...I think I would like that, Thorin Oakenshield.”

#Fanfiction #Fanfiction Request #The Hobbit #Battle of the Five Armies #BotFA #Angsty #Hurt/Comfort #thorin x reader #Thorin Oakenshield #Elf!Reader #Thorin/Elf!Reader

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the-durin-boys · 4 years

Text

Sorry Bilbo!

I’ve been gone for a long time, sorry about that!!

You like Thorin. There’s a mutual respect between you and for the past few days (weeks but it’s been on the down-low). You have been pushing Thorin to talk to you more and more, waking up early with him, scooping just a little bit more food into is bowl, offering to take up watches and wash the dishes, and while this definitely caught the attention of the entire company (Bilbo not included) it certainly hasn’t been picked up by the Dwarf King, one of the sharpest yet most oblivious people you know. And that’s how you started your day, waking up early and gently waking everyone else before Thorin could kick them awake. You then had Bilbo help you make up a quick breakfast and get everyone on their feet and ready to start the day.

Balin was the first to wake after you, and though his eyes aren’t as good as they used to be, he can still see the stolen glances you take in Thorin’s direction, so when Thorin does wake, Balin sits down next to his king, but in this moment, his friend.

“Are you oblivious or just cruel, old friend?” Thorin blinks, not fully understanding the question.

“What do you speak of so early in the morning?” Balin sighs and smiles.

“The lassie. She isn’t exactly being subtle about anything.” Thorin begins to roll up his bedroll.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Balin just shakes his head and pats Thorin on the shoulder before walking away and muttering under his breath, a big smile on his face.

“Poor oblivious man.”

On the other side of the camp, you’re sitting with Bilbo, taking your time in tying the water skins to your belt, so caught up in your little world that you don’t even notice yourself letting out a dreamy sigh. Bilbo looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, puffing into his pipe as he does so.

“Something on your mind, (Y/N)?” You don’t even mean to glance up at Thorin, but all you’ve been thinking about for the past ten minutes is how Thorin reacted to being woken up. You had to be gentle, of course (Thorin is a warrior always on guard), so when you woke Thorin up, you had to catch his dagger. Thorin was confused, still mostly asleep but it only took a few words of reassurance and then, for some odd reason, Thorin and his sleep clouded mind tucked his cheek into your hand and gently kissed your palm, saying:

“Good morning, Amrâlimê.” After which he dozed, leaving you with a bright red face and fingers tangled in his hair. As soon as you were able to slip away from Thorin, you had to take a good long while to settle your beating heart and cool your flaming cheeks before you could actually wake the rest of your friends.

Bilbo’s eye catches yours and he’s quick to follow your line of sight to see Thorin. His eyes move away from Thorin who’s standing with Balin, discussing something or the other, and back to you. Bilbo sputters on his pipe and he stands. You, confused and concerned, stand also, trying to comfort your brother out of his coughing fit, but all Bilbo does is wave the mouthpiece of his pipe in your face.

“No. Absolutely not. I do agree, and as your brother, I forbid you from doing anything with that man.” You make an offended sound and knock Bilbo’s pipe away from your face. You feel your cheeks flush as you glance over Bilbo’s shoulder and see Thorin looking your way.

“Excuse you, Bilbo, I think I will do whatever I please, thank you very much.”

“I am your brother-”

“Not my father.”

“If he was here he would agree with me. You are being reckless and you should have never come, you are in constant danger, and now you’re throwing yourself at some-some-some dwarf who you’ve only just met!” The resounding sound from the back of your hand against Bilbo’s cheek completely silences the entire camp as everyone stares in shock. Bilbo stumbles back into the arms of Ori, but he’s quick to his feet and storms towards you, furious. You don’t back down, puffing your chest and staring him in the eyes. As Bilbo approaches you with determination, Thorin steps forward, quickly placing himself between you and your brother. Bilbo huffs, staring behind Thorin and to you, and you do nothing to hide your vicious glare.

“Bilbo. That is enough. You need to calm down.” You bite at your lip as Bilbo cowers under the mighty stare of the King, and you feel tears pick up in your eyes.

“Thorin,” You gently place a hand on his arm. Thorin looks down at you, but you don’t look up at him, tears welling. “It’s okay. I was the one that hit him.” You look up at Bilbo who’s shoulders relax at the sight of your tears. “I’m sorry Bilbo.”

“(Y/N)-” Bilbo steps forward and you take two steps back, quickly swiping up your bag and making your way into the surrounding bush.

“I’ll be back.”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry!” Bilbo tries to run after you but is stopped by Thorin’s arm.

“Master Baggins.” Thorin gently pushes the burglar back towards the camp. “I will go after her. I do not think it wise to continue to ignite the situation.” Bilbo wants to protest but he knows that Thorin is right, and that he shouldn’t have said those things to you during your argument, because in all honesty, Thorin is a respectable dwarf who would never do anything to you, but you are Bilbo’s little sister, and he didn’t want you coming for fear of you getting hurt or dying, and now he can see that you aren’t so little anymore and that scares him, so Bilbo just sits down with his back to the company and relights his pipe, muttering angrily to himself.

Thorin, true to his word, quietly follows after you, stepping carefully through the undergrowth trying to find you before something else does. He follows gently in your footsteps, careful not to lose the very angry trail that you’re leaving behind. As he approaches you, he tries to make himself known, as to not startle you when he called for your attention.

“Who does he even think he is? I’m not a fauntling, I make my own decisions!” Thorin hears the distant clack of a rock being thrown, and as he enters the clearing that you’ve sat yourself in, he sees you lob another rock an impressive distance followed by some angry mumbling as you search for another rock. Thorin, despite himself, smiles and picks up a rather interesting looking rock - valueless, but with pretty colors that he thinks you’ll like.

“Try this rock, I think you’ll like it.” You flinch, startled.

“Thorin!” You exclaimed. “You scared me!” He smiles.

“Apologies, that was not my intention.” He offers the rock to you and you gently take it out of his hand, turning it over in your palm. You look it over, but instead of throwing it like you have all the other rocks, you pocket it. “You know it’s not safe to be out here alone.” Your cheeks flush red and you look away from him.

“I know, I’m sorry. I overreacted.” Thorin hums and for a minute neither of you say anything.

“If I may ask, what happened to upset you so?” You look at him but don’t say anything, and for a brief moment, Thorin’s stomach twists in fear that he asked a personal question. You haven’t even known each other for long, of course you wouldn’t want to answer that. Mahal, you must be feeling so uncomfortable right now-

“Bilbo doesn’t see me as an adult. He treats me like I’m a faunt.” Thorin almost sighs from relief. “I mean, I’m an adult, I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need him interfering with my life and the choices that I choose to make!” You pause for a second, hand reaching into the pocket with the rock. You fiddle with it for a moment, staring out into the woods. “Like I know that he’s trying to do his best, cause we’re the only family that we have, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t take care of myself. He didn’t even want me to come with him! It’s ridiculous!” You sigh. “I’m sorry, I just dumped a whole lot on you, didn’t I?”

“It’s alright,” Thorin assures. “Sometimes you just need someone to talk to. Though I don’t think you should have hit Bilbo.”

“I know!” You bury your face in your hands, the tips of your ears turning a burning red. “He just made me really upset, and I would never even do that! But he was talking about my love life like that’s something that he gets a say in, and I-!” You sigh. “I don’t know. I need to apologize to him, I acted brash and rude, not very Hobbit-like of me at all. Perhaps I’ll bring him back a flower crown. He’ll like that.”

“Oh?” Thorin looks at you incredulously. “What will a flower crown do?” You seem to perk up at Thorin’s question.

“Oh, well you see, flowers have different meanings, but when you put them together, they can spell out a message like ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘I love you,’. I don’t really know where to start looking though, maybe I can pick some while we walk, I don’t want to take up too much time.”

“Don’t worry about time. We have a river in our path, but because of the rain last night, it is probably too swollen to cross. We’ll be waiting around for a while anyways.” You look up at him with big round eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“As long as you teach me how to make a crown.”

“Really?” Thorin nods.

“A favor for a favor.” You smile up at him, and Thorin feels his heart jump as he returns the affection. “Should we get started?”

The pair of you are out in the woods for far too long, but time seems to escape Thorin as you ramble on about different flowers. He had no idea that they could mean so many things.

“My cousin, she’s a Sackville-Baggins - wretched woman - sent over twenty-four bouquets of orange lilies! Can you believe the nerve of her? Right after I helped her weed her garden too. Apparently, I pulled too many weeds and then her flowers started to die. To die! I had to tell her that that’s not how gardening works, and I even sent over a close friend of mine to help her out! He was very much obliged, but he was sent make in the same hour, and behind him, orange lilies!” Thorin hands you another blue hyacinth, which you take absently as you continue to talk, weaving it into the crown with ease. You managed to find a small field of different flowers, and you were overjoyed, grabbing Thorin by the hand and tugging him towards it to find a spot to sit.

“What do orange lilies mean?”

“They mean hatred. And she sent a lot of them, too. Let me tell you, she was not invited to afternoon tea that day. That showed her. Though she never formally apologized, she did send over one blue hyacinth, which was good enough for her apparently.” You tie off the flower and sigh, looking over the crown. “Do you think Bilbo will like it? I hope he accepts it, I feel really bad about the whole situation.” Thorin smiles gently at you, a smile that you do not see, but that’s okay.

“I think he will.” Thorin picks a white flower next to him. “What is this?” You set the crown in your lap.

“That’s a daisy.” You gently take it from him, your fingers brushing his. “It means innocence and purity.”

“And this?”

“That’s a daffodil. It means regard and chivalry.” Thorin lets you take the flower as he picks another.

“What does this one mean?”

“That flower is a white heather. It symbolizes protection.” You also take this flower, and you take a second to ponder a thought as you look over the flowers in your hand. “Thorin, is it okay if I make you one? A crown, I mean.” Thorin looks surprised.

“Only if I may make you one as well.” You grin.

“You don’t even know how!”

“Well I do have an amazing teacher here with me, don’t I?”

“That you do.” And then you set off, Thorin close behind, and yet again, time passes by much too quickly.

“This...is much harder than I thought.” You laugh, bumping your shoulder against his as you watch Thorin struggle to weave together steams.

“You’re doing great!” Thorin frowns. The flowers are falling apart and the band of the crown is loose.

“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.”

“You’re doing much better than I did when I first learned how to make crowns. At least yours is being held together, I couldn’t get mine to stay for two weeks!” You giggle as Thorin lets out a frustrated sigh. “Here, let me.” You carefully take the crown from his hands, fiddling with the stems for a second before giving a gentle tug to one, and then the whole crown tightens. “See? There you go, all better.” Thorin takes the crown back from you. He had taken a while picking out the flowers, asking you the different meanings. The colors of the crown clash, but you’ve reassured him many times that the colors don’t matter, it’s the message that he’s trying to convey that matters. The crown is filled with carnations and asters. Thorin thinks that it looks rather simple but you’ve told him that you think that it’s beautiful. Your crown, on the other hand, is one that Thorin envies.

It’s magnificent, full of different colors, each flower weaving in and out, creating a pattern on the crown so complex that once you think you’ve found it, another one appears. Thorin doesn’t know a lot of the flowers, and he can’t remember most of the meanings, but he does know that he’s going to wear it with pride. He does remember daisies though, innocence and purity, but he hasn’t commented on how many of those are in the crown. He sees the white heather and another white flower, one that you said was a gardenia. You said that it indicates purity and sweetness. Another flower thrown into the mix are the yellow acacias, but you wouldn’t tell Thorin what they meant.

“Well, I think I’m all done with my crown. May I?” You ask as you lift the crown that you made. Thorin smiles and tips his head towards you, and you gently set the crown on his head, trying not to think about how your fingers were tangled in his hair just his morning. The crown sits heavier than Thorin thought. He straightens out and you look at him with pride, and suddenly, Thorin’s hands are shaking as he lifts your crown. You also tilt your head, and Thorin sets the crown onto your hair, the softness not going unnoticed. You straighten back out and give him a goofy smile.

“Now we match.” Thorin smiles.

“That we do.” And then everything is quite, comfortable, and Thorin can’t help but think about how beautiful you look, with the sun in your hair and a smile in your eyes. His eyes flick to your lips, soft and full, and he’s leaning down, and then your lips meet his and the kiss is gentle and it’s sweet as you lean into him and the break for air only lasts for a second before you’re connected again, Thorin’s hands finding their way to your waist as your fingers tangle in his hair. His fingers hook under the edge of your shirt, hand smoothing over your bare stomach as his lips make their way to the crook of your neck. He tugs you closer, and you straddle him, settling into his lap with ease.

“Thorin…” You whisper, and it isn’t anything but his name, but it’s enough for him as he gently moves you to lay in the field of flowers beneath him, pushing up your shirt as you unclip his coat. He dips down again to nip at your neck as you tug at his hair and-

“Thorin Oakenshield you get off of my sister this instant!” Thorin is ripped away by the back of his shirt and you yelp in surprise.

“Bilbo!” Bilbo ignores you as he yanks Thorin up to his feet.

“Just what do you think you’re doing? To my SISTER?”

“Bilbo, I-” Thorin stammers as he tries to right his hair.

“Are you wearing a flower crown?” Bilbo turns to you. “You made him a flower crown? You’re wearing a flower crown?”

“Well, yes.” You hide your face the best that you can in your hair. “I wanted to make one for you, and Thorin escorted me-”

“He ESCORTED you? I wouldn’t call this escorting you at all! You made him a flower crown! A very obvious flower crown!”

“I did make you one!” You look to your side where you left it, only to see that it had been accidentally crushed. “But, um, it - uh..” Bilbo looks to the apology crown that you made him, and then back to Thorin, and then back to you.

“Does Thorin know what his crown means?” You flush deep red.

“Well, I mean, kind of?”

“Kind of? Kind of?!”

“Well I told him some of what it means, just not all of it..”

“And what does it mean, (Y/N)?”

“It means ‘I love you’..” Thorin looks to you, eyes wide.,

“That’s right.” Bilbo turns to Thorin. “And do you know what that means Thorin?”

“It means that she loves me?”

“And what do you feel about that?”

“Well I feel that I love her as well.” Bilbo looks shocked, looking between you and Thorin, before finally landing on you.

“You are so lucky that I came out here by myself.” He turns to Thorin. “If I catch you again, so help me Yavanna. You will treat her right,” Bilbo pokes a finger into Thorin’s chest. “You will love her, you will cherish her, and if you so much as make her cry..” Bilbo doesn’t finish his sentence but Thorin gets the picture.

“On my honor, I will love her as my Queen, and as my One.” Bilbo glares at Thorin a second more before he seems satisfied.

“The reason why I came out here was to tell you that breakfast is ready, and the group is looking for you.” Bilbo says as he turns away. You and Thorin share a look before you’re swept up into Thorin’s arms, and you laugh as you throw your arms around his neck. Thorin sets you down before cradling your face into a kiss.

“THORIN!” You pull away and look over Thorin’s shoulder to see Bilbo glaring at you.

“Sorry Bilbo!”

Words: 3198

The flower crown that Thorin is wearing means love, secret love, longing, purity, and sweetness.

#Thorin Oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorins company #thorin x reader #x reader #the hobbit #fluff

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ladyideal · 4 years

Text

Hope

Pairing: Daddy!Eomer x reader

Word Count: 1652

Warnings: mention of small injury, fluff

Summary: Requested by @asraime. just Eomer and his daughter spending time together and getting into slight mischief.

A/N: Okay, I know I lied that Bones will be up today, but I wanted to write for another Karl Urban character. he does them all sooo well, and Eomer is one of my favorites from him.

If anyone could call Eomer, they would realize he had many titles. He was a nephew, a cousin, a lord of the mark, the third marshal, a king, a husband, and lastly, a father. He was a father to not just one, but two.

A son.

And a daughter to spoil.

Life as a princess of Rohan was fun, bright, but absolutely still recovering from the war. There was still lingering evidence of families struggling to keep themselves afloat. It had only made both your parents, especially your father, busier than normal.

This time, he had friends, not enemies.

Peace, not war.

So it only came as a shock, when your brother, Elfwine, confided to you in secret, that he was not interested in the throne. Swords and shields, bows and arrows, were the way of the land, and that's how he would rather rule, instead of on a throne.

You swore you would never tell.

Eventually, your brother announced his thoughts a few weeks later, over dinner, leading to a many very heated arguments that had you eventually excused yourself from. Sure, you had gone with your father whenever he took diplomatic trips, but it was never in your future to be the crowned heir. You were just curious of Gondor, and the hobbits at the Shire.

Till now.

Another year went by before Eomer agreed to the changes. His firstborn abdicated, and would take on the title of the next Marshal, while the younger of his kids would become the next ruling Queen.

Which meant only one thing: More work and lessons.

You were expected to attend meetings, attend diplomatic parties, attend the trips to various different parts of Rohan as the country returned to its former glory after the costly war. For the most part, you shouldered the weight of it all with a brave smile to the public, showing no evidence of the late night anxiety when you would cling to Eomer in shoulder wrecking sobs.

It was too much and not enough at times. There were times during the harder weeks that you wanted to ride your horse, Astra, out of Rohan and never look back. Yet there were times, all you wanted to do was to take on more projects, and exhaust yourself in the name of having your people live a better life.

You had tried it once. After a frustrating morning with the financial adviser, you had taken your horse out for a ride into the countryside, and away from all the commotion. There, you spent the rest of the day, on your own and with your thoughts. It was evening before you decided that it was time to head home.

It wasn't your mother's furious tone, nor the disappointment in her words as she berated you for being so reckless, that swayed you to be more careful in the future. What did convince you was the brief look of fear within Eomer's eyes you'd seen when you returned, and was your first time that you'd ever seen such a response from your Father.

It broke your heart into pieces when he pulled you into his arms, crying into your shoulder that he was sorry about putting everything onto your shoulder all at once. It should've been you that apologized, not him. You realized then, that it wasn't because you were crown or his heir, you were family and he'd lost many during his early years.

A knock came at your door.

You looked up from your notes, noticing that the sun was dipping below the horizon, sparkling the sky above with a prism of a breathtaking rainbow.

The door opened, revealing Eomer looking concerned for you.

"Hi dad," You greeted, brightening up as he crossed the threshold into your room. His eyes studied your barely concealed black circles, and an everlasting look of exhaustion that never seemed to fade away.

"Y/N," Eomer greeted, gently squeezing you in a brief hug. "Why don't we take our dinner out to our spot? The sunset is beautiful today."

Not wanting to let the chance fly by, you immediately agreed. Before long, your father was on Firefoot, and you on Astra with a picnic basket in hand. A couple guards came along, but fell behind in an effort to keep privacy between father and daughter.

It was supposedly a spot he'd found back when he was just the nephew to the late King Theoden, and a newly Third Marshal of the Rohirrim. His wife knew of the spot, but pretended to play ignorance on not knowing where the place was.

"Were you ever ready to become King?" You asked after settling down against a lone tree upon the hill. It overlooked Edoras, and the multitude of huts surrounding the hill fort that served as the center of power for Rohan. The view was breathtaking, and wonderfully scenic, and absolutely your spot to spend precious time with your dad.

"No. Uncle Theoden had Theodred to be first in line," Your dad spoke, taking out the items within the basket. "He was killed at the Fords of Isen though. Uncle never got to speak with his son before Theodred passed."

It was barely even considered history, given what had happened wasn't so long with the war of the ring. A good majority of the people had gone through the horrors of war, of blood, and of death. All capable men were to take up arms.

It was a grisly war, one that was still fully engraved in your father's mind for the rest of his life. For many people throughout the Middle Earth, the same sentiments could be felt throughout the land.

"Do you think it'll happen again?" You asked, starting on your light dinner. "Y'know the whole ring and everything?"

Eomer barked out a laugh. "We'll be ready if something like this happens again," He spoke, gazing down at the capital of Rohan. "Your old man's not ready to lay down his sword just yet. Even if something happens after my time has gone, I hope you and your brother will remember that, in times of need, you have friends to rely on in Gondor, at the Shire, and across Middle Earth. No matter what happens, hope is never lost."

"You think so?"

"I know so," He reached forward to gently squeeze the dimples that you had inherited from him.

"Dad!" You complained half heartedly, squealing out of his grasp. With a slight grin, he returned to the food in front.

"Did you sprain your wrist again?" He asked, after a moment of content silence. "How?"

You nodded slowly. "Fell off. Again."

Your father let out a labored sigh. "Don't let your mother hear of this later. We can stop by the healers, and get that wrapped up before it gets worse," he grumbled into his food. "Or I'll never hear the end from her."

You laughed, but sobered up immediately at his pointed glare. "Mom's going to find out sooner or later."

Eomer grumbled wordlessly, but continued eating what's left of the small dinner. As the sun went down below the horizon, your horses were untethered for the short ride back home.

"Can I tell you something dad?" You asked, hauling yourself back onto the saddle with practiced ease.

"Of course, my love. You can tell me anything," Your dad pulled Firefoot close to yours, eyeing you and raising his eyebrow in question. It wasn't until you were halfway back home till you spoke up again.

"What if I do something wrong? Or even say something wrong?" You asked, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously. "I'm afraid of not getting things right."

"Y/N, listen to me," He spoke. "You might not get everything right, but what you stand up for, and what your intentions are, are worth much more than words alone. We are in the service of the Rohirrim, not them to us. It is because of them that we are here today."

"Were you scared when you became King?"

"Terrified," Your dad spoke, looking forward as the stables grew nearer. "I did what I thought was right, and listened to the people."

You lapsed into silence for the rest of the trip home, only grumbling in pain when you couldn't swing yourself down your horse and needed help. Once Eomer settled you down on your feet, he took your non injured hand in his.

"Let's get that wrapped up, shall we?"

After having the wrist prodded, checked, and wrapped, you departed from the healers with your father in tow with a sheepish grin.

"Do you think Mother will-?" You stopped short as you caught a familiar figure standing in front of the hallway towards your room. From behind, you heard your father audibly groan.

"So this is where my daughter and husband have disappeared to for the last few hours," Your mother spoke disapprovingly, arms still crossed against her chest with a rather upset look.

"Hi mom," You greeted quietly, slightly shrinking under her glare. If you didn't stop her at this pass, she would never be stopped.

"Why are you hiding your wrist, Y/N?" Her eyes narrowed at your half hiddened wrist. "Did you fall off your horse again? For Valar's sake, Eomer, when will you stop bringing her outside of safety and hurting our child? And when will you be more careful, Y/N? This isn't the first time anymore!"

"Mooooom," you whined.

"And where do you think you're sneaking off to, Eomer?" She snapped.

"My love, I've still-."

But even he as king, couldn't avoid the wrath of his wife and queen.

"Oh no you don't. You got her into this mess, now you're getting her out."

You and your father groaned, but with a nod, escorted you back to your room. Thankfully, you had a loving father and King ready to help you every step of the way.

Permanent Tags: @mournthewicked @asraime @mournthewicked (Taglist is open!)

#eomer!!!!!#so cute #love him #eomer x reader #lotr #tolkien #reader insert #deb writes

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doyelikehaggis · 5 years

Note

Person A tries to get their friends to kiss under the mistletoe, and they completely forget about their crush on Person B until they both end up under the mistletoe. This is peak Kizzie content.

Being acutely observant is something that Lizzie likes to pride herself on. At least, when the thing she's observing is important and manages to find its way into her spacial bubble.

It's easy for her not to spare things a certain glance, something that Josie has pointed out recently she needs to work on. But sometimes those things nag at her, forcing her to pay attention.

One of those things happens to be Kaleb.

She's noticed him a lot more lately and been ignoring the growing feeling in her chest at the same time. Avoiding another epic rejection and humiliation is high on the list of things she wants for this year of positivity.

Crushes are great, but she just can't risk her healing mental health right now. Especially with Sebastian now roaming around the school thanks to Kaleb and MG figuring out how to free him from desiccation. They're friends, but nothing more. There's already enough drama in her life as it is with Malivore's monsters making a return.

Strangely enough, her reason for noticing Kaleb at this particular moment has nothing to do with the feelings she is choosing to pretend don't even exist. Her eyes narrow as she watches him across the library from the chair she's been curled up in for the last hour, having taken a break from the decorating committee.

He's currently helping them out, to her surprise, but she supposes as a member of the honour council, it's sort of a requirement. He's balanced on the edge of the bannister stringing up a set of the lights that they spelled during Chemistry of Magic to work without any additional electricity.

Except, he's doing it rather slowly. His eyes aren't even on them despite his hands moving, wrapping them through each little loop. She follows his line of sight for the third time and it once again comes back to the table below, tucked into the corner.

Landon and Josie are sitting across from each other, using their decoration break to figure out how to uncharm the tinsel that one of the coven witches decided to bring to life.

Trying to help them is Hope, flicking through a book and throwing out suggestions.

She can see the awkward tension between the three of them; finding out their history without really remembering it definitely helped with that.

Hope isn't exactly back at the school, only helping out for the holidays since she isn't sure she can go back to New Orleans just yet and isn't able to sleep at Mystic Falls High.

Things almost feel like they used to before Malivore. She keeps to herself as much as she can. Except Landon and Josie both know their past thanks to everything being thrown out into the open a few weeks ago, and Landon doesn't seem to want to let it go, even if he doesn't remember all of the details.

They seem to be stuck in the same cycle, Lizzie's noticed. Landon sees Hope by herself, invites her to hang out with him and Josie while Josie gives a halfhearted protest before doing the same as Hope and reverting back into the pre-Malivore version of herself. It's almost always awkward whenever Lizzie sees them, exchanging quick looks between the three of them.

It's also frustrating to watch. But no matter how many times she tries to talk to Josie about it, she brushes it off and says she doesn't want to talk about it. A bad sign, for sure.

She even denies it when Lizzie catches her shooting glances at Hope that hold the same subtle, suppressed feelings as it used to. If Lizzie didn't know better, she would say that not remembering Hope has only given Josie the chance to fall head over heels for her all over again.

But of course, Josie won't admit that because she's even more stubborn than she likes to admit, won't get over her brief jealousy, and somehow thinks that it's a betrayal to Landon.

It's as if she can't see that from the moment Landon found out he and Hope used to date, he's gotten all flustered and dorky around her like he used to.

Then again, Josie doesn't remember how things used to be. None of them aside from herself and Hope do.

Which doesn't explain why Kaleb keeps looking over at them like that, and even shaking his head like he's doing now, even rolling his eyes.

Sighing, she closes the book she's been reading. It's Christmas-themed, the third in a series of fantasy books, and a special edition for the holidays.

Her mom sent it over a week ago because there isn't a single bookstore in Mystic Falls and the nearest one is in Richmond.

She supposes she can leave it until her next break. If she forces Hope to work with her instead of sitting around getting all gooey-eyed over Landon and Josie, she might be able to get her part done with faster.

She leaves the book in the chair and walks around to the other side of the library, smiling at MG on the passing.

When she glances behind her, her eyes following him, he's pulling a string of lights from the box in his arms and handing them over to Sebastian. One requirement of him staying is he has to be a team player, and that includes helping out with decorating.

He doesn't seem to mind so much when he's helping MG.

Rolling her eyes, she just continues until she's standing by the table of decorations that Kaleb is currently using. There aren't many left, mostly just a few more strands of tinsel, but once they're done with the library, they still have a few of the classrooms and possibly the study hall and the secondary common room assuming that the other four people on the committee haven't gotten too far on their own.

She picks up a piece of gold tinsel that shimmers a faint purple, glittering with magic. Not a single one of their decorations aren't spelled with magic. Even one of the menorahs has an air of it to make sure the candles can't be blown out too early and to make the oil smell of cinnamon and gingerbread. A treat for the younger ones.

"What are you doing?" she hears Kaleb ask and looks up to find him staring down at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Asking you the same question," she replies, still pulling the tinsel through her hands, and mirrors his suspicion. "Why do you keep staring at those three when you're supposed to be decorating? This place has to be completely ready for the holidays. That's why we have allocated break times, and you agreed to help out."

Kaleb rolls his eyes. "Do you not see me on this bannister with these damn things? I've strung up at least four of them, and they keep trying to electrocute me. I think you witches need to check out the spells you're using, 'cause I'm not sure they're supposed to do anything other than light up."

"Maybe it's because you're putting them up wrong," she says bluntly.

She eyes the lights in question pointedly, hanging down lower on the second last loop. Only those soft glowing bulbs are flickering, the rest all staying at full brightness. He glances at them and groans, rolling his eyes again.

"Shouldn't you be on your break right now?" he asks, reaching back up and starting to undo the lights, fixing them. "You were hanging decorations for, like, two hours."

Lizzie finally puts the tinsel down, but only to pick up a strangely-coloured reindeer. It must have been one of the ones the younger kids decorated during their art class. It's cute, even with its bright yellow nose and green body.

"I should be," she agrees. "But then you staring at my sister and her hobbit forced me to cut it short. So, I repeat, what are you doing and why does it involve those three?"

Kaleb pauses, sighing as he lets go of the lights. All of the bulbs are glowing now, not even the slightest flicker, coiled perfectly from one end of the beam to the other.

She glances down the rest of the beams and finds the rest of the lights the exact same.

It's a little impressive, she'll admit, as someone who admires good organization and decoration. She's been told she gets it from her mom.

"Why do you care?" he asks, and waves a hand at the table. "I'm nearly done."

She shrugs. "I'm curious."

He stares at her for a moment, but she simply flashes him an overly-sweet smile, refusing to leave. He seems to realize that, and sighs again before hopping down off of the bannister, landing beside her with the ease of a vampire.

"Fine. Landon's just having some issues and he's been talking to me and MG about them." He scans over the remaining decorations for the next most important. "I've been tryna help him out since MG's preoccupied with Dracula over there."

Lizzie snorts at the comment, surprised. She wasn't aware he had much of an opinion on Sebastian, though it's becoming increasingly clear by the twinge of mocking in his voice at the nickname that he's not his biggest fan.

Probably because of MG since everyone else has had no problem falling for his charm as she did and still does, aside from Josie and Hope.

"Help him how?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowing with suspicion.

"Nah, not happening," he says, shaking his head with a chuckle as picks up the tinsel she had been playing with before. "I'm not breaking his trust like that."

Lizzie rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, but he's stubborn and loyal, and she knows he won't give in.

She glances back over in Landon's direction.

Josie's shifted her seat much closer to Hope's, reading something that she's pointing out in a book situated between them. Landon's watching them with those slightly wide eyes, and his inner struggle is written all over his face and into the soft fondness he's doing a terrible job at hiding.

She straightens up, her face lighting back up. "Are his issues perhaps centred around my dear sister and his ex?"

Kaleb lifts his head, glancing from her to the three of them. He opens his mouth as if to protest, but she waves a hand.

"Don't worry, you didn't accidentally give anything away with all of your incredibly obvious staring," she assures him, and he presses his lips together, looking mildly unamused. "Josie's been having the same issues. As has Hope. Of course, neither of them are willing to talk about it because of that whole weird awkward thing they've got going on what with everyone's memories still erased."

"So it's not just Landon then," Kaleb says, apparently dropping all pretence as he throws another glance at them.

"No. Honestly, you'd think it wouldn't be that hard for them to work out the very clear solution to this whole mess for themselves," she says, shaking her head along with him. "They're all just too worried about ruining something or someone hating them for them to actually make a move. It's sad."

As she says it, a little voice in the back of her head that her therapist has been trying to help her get better at blocking out points out her mild hypocrisy. For once, it's not entirely wrong. That doesn't mean she's listening to it.

"And that's why I said I'd give Landon a helping hand."

Lizzie's eyes narrow as she turns back to Kaleb only to find him grinning. There's a strange, mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What exactly does that mean? Actually—" she quickly holds up a hand as he starts to answer, "—never mind. I do not want to know. This is a... partially drama-free year for me, and I will not get involved in whatever the hell this is."

"Alright," he says, shrugging it off just like that as he turns back to the decorations.

She doesn't leave. She watches him pick things up, clearly searching for something. Her mind whirs, and she can't help her eyes darting back to Josie, Landon, and Hope, doubt creeping in.

They could use some help. Maybe just a little push. And she does like the idea of being a Christmas cupid.

"But, out of curiosity, what did you have in mind?" she asks.

Kaleb chuckles at her quick change of heart but he doesn't address it.

"Well, seeing as how it's the holidays and all," he says, and nods to the table pointedly, "I was thinking that one of the oldest tricks in the book could work. I don't know what yet. That's why I keep staring at them as you said."

He then nods to the three of them.

"I'm tryna figure out what they'd fall right into without figuring a way out of it."

He pauses, turning back to her with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Do you think truth or dare is too obvious?"

She makes a face, her eyebrows furrowing. "Yes. Probably, if your plan is to jump right in with it, especially considering the way we play truth or dare. They wouldn't be allowed to lie to any question you ask. As much as I love brutal honesty, I'm not sure that it's the best way to go with this."

"What about charades?"

"Chara—what book are you getting these from? My mom?"

She rolls her eyes and ignores Kaleb mirroring her.

"Why don't you just use mistletoe?" she asks, partially joking. "That's the oldest trick in the book. Trap them with a holiday-themed social convention that's always brushed off, giving them the perfect opportunity to give in to their feelings while also pretending that it's all in the name of holiday spirit."

Kaleb's face lights up. Her eyes widen.

"I wasn't serious," she says, having thought that that was very clear.

She waves a hand in Josie, Landon, and Hope's direction.

"They will never fall for that. Even if you got a witch to spell the mistletoe like they did last year so that they can't just walk away without at least a peck on the cheek, they'll be looking for it everywhere so that they can avoid it!"

"I don't know, I've watched Landon nearly walk into a wall twice and get a bauble stuck in his hair already," Kaleb says, shaking his head with genuine doubt. "They might fall for it."

"Maybe Landon would, but Josie and Hope wouldn't," she counters. "And — what's the plan, anyway? Trap all three of them? Mistletoe doesn't work like that, and honestly, it might be the most awkward thing to force anyone nearby to watch."

Kaleb makes a face at that and doesn't disagree. She's almost smug. Almost.

"Nah, we'd just have to get two of them," Kaleb says as if it should be obvious. "Then, assuming it works and they kiss, they'll end up talking about it with the other one 'cause they don't want anyone feeling bad about any guilt or anything, and then they'll confront their feelings for each other. And then my job is done."

He smirks at her in a way that would usually infuriate her. It does a tiny bit. But at least he actually has a right to his smugness because he makes a good counterargument. She scowls.

"You know that that entire plan revolves around the two that you catch with it not being Josie and Landon, right?" she asks. "And it's about a fifty-fifty chance that any of them would actually talk about this sort of thing. Basically, your plan relies on good timing, them having some sort of moral conscience, and I'm assuming a touch of magic."

Kaleb nods without missing a beat, his smirk never slipping for even a second.

"Pretty much," he says. "Wanna help?"

Lizzie scoffs, shaking her head at him, the thought completely absurd. Josie is her twin sister, and she trusts her. She couldn't just do something like this that could hurt her or put her in any sort of uncomfortable position.

Her eyes happen to stray back to their table, making her falter. Josie's relaxed a little more, still beside Hope. They're both grinning now.

It probably has something to do with the glitter shining in Landon's hair as he nods slowly, his unamused expression slipping as he clearly tries to bite back a smile.

On the other hand, Josie probably wouldn't mind too much. For the first half-hour or so, she'll probably be furious.

But if it really does smooth things out between the three of them and puts an end to the internal conflict and turmoil Josie is clearly suffering through, maybe the ends justify the means in this one particular case.

She sighs but holds out her hand. "Where's the mistletoe?"

Kaleb grins from ear-to-ear. "MG's got it. Gimme a second."

She waits as he walks over to MG while he's in the middle of handing Sebastian another string of lights that he seems to be having some trouble figuring out. He's back in seconds and waving a sprig of mistletoe, biting his lip, his amusement shining.

She rolls her eyes but takes it from him. This could be their worst idea yet or the solution that everyone who's had to spend more than a minute in the bubble of awkward is desperately needing.

The plan is simple enough. They debate for a few minutes over the best place to hang it; Kaleb insists that the front door is the best, most logical place, but Lizzie argues that either of the entrances in the library makes far more sense since they'll need to use them at some point.

They settle for the main doorway into the first common room.

Lizzie waves her hand, levitating it into the air. It's easier than attempting to find a ladder. She carefully positions it to hang right in the centre, laying in wait for any unsuspecting couples to walk past.

"Fun bonus is that it won't just catch those three," Kaleb says as she tilts her head, making sure it's perfect. "We all good? Or you gonna put some fancy invisibility spell on it like you did last year?"

"No, I think it's fine like this," she decides. "It was fun last year, but I don't think we need it. Plus, there would be more chance of Josie getting mad at me for this, especially if it happens to be Hope and Landon who get caught in it."

Kaleb almost winces with sympathy. "Yeah, smart move. Maybe don't tell here you had anything to do with it. At all."

"Oh, trust me," Lizzie turns to him, smirking, "this is all on you."

"Throwing me under the bus?" he asks as he eyes her, feigning insult. "That's how we're playing this?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Lizzie says without so much as batting an eyelash. "Your idea, your responsibility."

"That's why you don't wanna put a spell on it, isn't it?" Kaleb asks, the realization clearly dawning on him as his eyes narrow.

Lizzie decides to play innocent and shrugs, turning and walking down the hallway to head back to the library. Her mouth curves as she hears him follow her, unable to bite back her smirk no matter how hard she tries.

"You knew that Josie and Hope would automatically assume that it was you who did it," he goes on. "Whereas this way, they won't suspect you at all. Giving you the perfect opportunity to tell them it was me without them knowing you had any part in it."

"Okay, I know I'm dramatic and all, but this wasn't some high-stakes heist," she scoffs as he falls into step beside her.

"Says the one who won't have two witches mad at them for tricking them," Kaleb retorts, and Lizzie rolls her eyes. "And, weren't you the one who came up with this plan? I said truth or dare and charades. You suggested mistletoe."

"As a joke!" Lizzie protests, looking at him now. "You're the one who thought it was actually a good idea. Which, I still stand by my initial opinion of it being predictable and has a slim chance of working, especially on—"

"Wait, shh," Kaleb quickly cuts her off, a hand flying out to her shoulder to halt her in her tracks.

She glances at him in confusion to find his eyes wide and a familiar look on his face. It's the one all vampires get when they're listening to something that no one else can hear.

"What?" she hisses, her eyes darting down the hallway. "Kaleb? What the hell—"

His eyes grow even wider. There's a strange lurch in her stomach like the breath being sucked from her lungs, and then a split second later, she's no longer in the same spot. When she blinks, she's facing down from the end of the hallway that had previously been on her right, half-hidden in the doorway.

She faintly registers Kaleb's arm half-strung around her for just a moment before it drops, though his hand remains on her shoulder.

Her confusion quickly disappears as Hope, Josie, and Landon come into view, walking down the hallway as they talk. Thankfully, they keep going. For a moment, Lizzie thinks they've gone another way entirely, but Kaleb isn't moving.

She then hears Landon chuckling before he appears again, now just beyond the doorway with the mistletoe hanging in it.

"I don't know," he says, turning to face Hope and Josie who stop alongside him. "I wouldn't underestimate the power of an evil Santa Claus. I've read about Krampus before. The thing is terrifying. You would really wanna face that?"

Hope rolls her eyes. "We didn't say we would want to. Just that we think we could. I mean," she glances at Josie, the two of them sharing a look between them as she huffs out a partial scoff, "what could it really do?"

"Throw presents at us?" Josie jokes as she grins, and Hope laughs.

"Okay, what part of half-goat, half-demon aren't either of you getting?" Landon asks, throwing his hands out at sides, but his exasperation only seems to fuel their amusement. "It could maul you! To death!"

"As opposed to mauling us to sleep?" Hope questions, tilting her head with mock seriousness.

Landon throws his hands up as it only sets Josie off into laughter.

"You can joke now, but you won't be when Krampus shows up here on Christmas Eve," he warns, even pointing a finger at them.

Lizzie scoffs under her breath and turns to look at Kaleb as he arches an eyebrow, a look of puzzled amusement passing between them. She thought that Landon was already weird, but somehow he continues to find a new level.

Kaleb quickly nods for her to turn back and she does, just in time to watch Landon walk forward. Through the doorway.

Josie shrugs. "I still think we could take him."

Hope almost giggles as Landon stops and turns back around to stare at Josie as if she's grown two heads.

"You two are both insane," he declares, earning him a roll of Josie's eyes as she steps forward.

Lizzie holds her breath, her eyes widening as she and Kaleb watch them.

Landon's already too far into the common room to be successfully caught in the mistletoe unless he decides to move back over to them. He stays where he is, though, as Josie lingers in the doorway, the mistletoe hanging right above her head.

"Come on," Hope says, and finally takes a step closer to them. Right beside Josie.

Excitement flutters in Lizzie's stomach as she glances to the mistletoe.

"You really think evil Santa Claus is worse than any of the monsters we've already faced?" Hope asks. "We've literally had a small army of them come after us at once. I'm pretty sure we could handle one goat-demon."

Landon starts to shake his head, groaning. "It's not just a goat-demon, though! I mean, it sort of is, but—"

"Hey," Kaleb calls out, cutting him off.

Lizzie's eyes widen impossibly further, quickly turning to stare at him as if he's just turned into the goat-demon Landon's going on about.

He doesn't even glance at her, though, a smirk on his lips, ever the epitome of casual nonchalance as all three more sets of eyes turn on him.

"Might wanna look up," he says to Josie and Hope, his eyebrows raising.

Confusion flickers across their faces, but Landon's already taking his advice. Hope and Josie quickly follow at his slightly stilted intake of breath.

Their eyes land on the mistletoe and Lizzie can see them both stiffen, going completely still. She's not even sure they breathe for a good few seconds.

They slowly look back down until their eyes lock. The hesitation and uncertainty is written all over their faces as they don't make a move. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all, Lizzie thinks, considering how well they were just getting along compared to how utterly quiet and awkward they are once again.

"It's a dumb holiday tradition," Hope says, shrugging as she offers a small, clearly forced smile. "We don't have to."

Lizzie groans quietly under her breath. Thankfully, neither of them notice as Josie falters, her lips parting but no words coming out.

"I knew I should never have let you talk me into this," Lizzie says, turning to Kaleb. "It sounded like a bad idea, and surprise, surprise, it was. I should have just let you play your game of truth or dare."

"Let me once again remind you that I never talked you into this," Kaleb says, shaking his head. "You offered. And," his eyes dart back to Josie and Hope, "look! It's not that bad. I think it might actually be working."

"Did you two set this up?" Landon asks, his eyes narrowing at them in disbelief, clearly hearing just about every word.

"Of course not," Lizzie says, but he's still staring at her with that look on his face, and she caves, rolling her eyes. "Well, someone had to do something! You three are so awkward around each other that everyone else can feel it, and it's driving us all crazy! We just thought you could use... you know, a little push in the right direction."

"So much for throwing me under the bus," Kaleb mutters, a smug note to his voice.

Lizzie turns her head to glare at him.

"Then here's a push for you," Josie now says, a slight smirk to her lips. She moves her hand in a familiar motion. "Look up."

Lizzie's stomach drops. She and Kaleb both listen, staring at the frame of the doorway. A green leaf starts to materialize as if out of thin air, and then there's a full sprig with white berries hanging right above them, now uncloaked.

"Did you know that was there?" Kaleb asks without looking away from the mistletoe.

"No," she says. "I didn't."

Her heart has changed its pace, no longer a slight jump of worry at Josie being mad at her, but hitting against her ribs as the realization comes crashing down on her. A flurry of what she can only describe as wings starts up in her stomach, pressing against every little nervous button inside of her.

She groans in her head. Of course this is happening. She got so momentarily caught up in helping him with his plan, with helping Josie, and Hope, and Landon, that it was so easy for her feelings for Kaleb to slip to the back of her mind instead of pulling at her for her attention like they've been doing everytime she sees him.

The possibility of accidentally ending up under the mistletoe with the guy she likes somehow never crossed her mind. Too much really has been going on lately.

Her eyes dart back at Josie just as Hope leans in, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. It sends Josie's eyes wide, and she practically freezes.

Lizzie scowls. Of course they would go along with it. Now she can't back out of it.

She forces herself to look at Kaleb to find him already watching her. That does nothing good for her heartbeat.

Raising a shoulder in a shrug, she offers a smile that she desperately hopes doesn't convey the mess of feelings inside of her right now.

"See? Oldest trick in the book. It even got us."

Kaleb chuckles at that, nodding as he glances away. Her heart skips a beat as he bites his bottom lip for a split second.

When his eyes move back to her, she quickly holds onto them, refusing to look anywhere else. She has been doing so well for the last few weeks. A damn plant can't be about to throw her whole promise to herself and plan about no crushes away, surely.

"Just a social convention, right?" Kaleb says, a smile playing on his lips. She tries not to focus on that.

"Yeah, totally," she agrees, smiling back.

He nods once then pauses for just a second before he starts to lean in. Air catches in Lizzie's throat, and for another split second, she thinks that maybe this won't be a big deal. Maybe she's underestimating herself.

She meets him halfway, her eyes closing before she even moves. The second their lips meet, she knows she's screwed.

Maybe if he wasn't a good kisser or if her skin didn't immediately heat up, feeling as if it's catching fire. But for the few seconds that it takes for them to pull apart, the mistletoe still hanging tauntingly above them, Lizzie knows her feelings weren't all in her head.

She pulls back slowly, letting her eyes open. Kaleb's already looking at her. Or gazing, she supposes, as her stomach ties itself in a knot and her heart beats like a butterfly's wings.

"Not so bad, was it?" he says, his tone joking but a genuine smile curving his lips once more.

"Not at all," she breathes softly and shrugs. "All in the name of the holiday spirit."

Kaleb raises an eyebrow. "I thought people only said that when they're pretending it's not a big deal? Your words."

"Yeah, and I was right."

She doesn't wait for the realization to kick in. She winds a hand around to the back of his neck and surges back in.

There's a time-stopping moment of worry on her part and surprise on his when her lips are on his and she questions what the hell she's doing.

Then he's kissing her back, not just for the mistletoe that's already starting to disappear again, its goal achieved. Her entire plan goes out of the window.

With the chance of rejection decreasing with every second that Kaleb doesn't pull away, she thinks that maybe she doesn't need to refrain from a relationship for the rest of the semester.

Kaleb isn't Rafael and he isn't Sebastian.

There's no reason that this can't work out.

She curses in her mind at the realization that she might have to give credit to a freaking plant and those three oblivious idiots who have already left, laughing their asses off.

#legacies #kizzie #lizzie x kaleb #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #handosie #fanfiction stuff #oh look a wild anonymoose #I am so sorry it took me so long to finish writing this!!#I wanted to make sure it was good plus life in general #but thank you so much for putting this in my inbox!!#I adore writing kizzie #and you're right #this was peak kizzie #I hope you enjoy!#kaleb hawkins #lizzie forbes #josie forbes

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thebeethathums · 6 years

Text

An Adventure - 7

Bilbo Baggins x Reader

Elrond emerged from some far off hall as they were eating, the dwarves examining the food they’d been given disdainfully as they conversed in hushed tones. Gandalf looked to him in a silent question and the elven Lord gave a slight nodded and offered, “It will heal nicely. I have left her to clean up and change clothes, though I believe she will have some trouble. Arwen, would you please check on our guest?”

“Of course, Adar.”

The young elf knocked lightly on your door, opening it when she heard a call from inside. She found you fully clean and dressed but struggling with the long impossibly tangled locks that fell down your back in a wet clump. She quickly assessed that you couldn’t bring your arm up far enough to run the comb through them and you were grumbling under your breath about how you should just cut it all off.

She hummed in amusement and you turned to see who could possibly have come to check on you, blushing red when your eyes landed on her, “I see I have made my host wait long enough that he sends his own daughter to assure my well being. Give me just a moment and I will return to him with you.”

She looked you over as you struggled to pull your hair into a sad excuse for a bun. There was no doubt that you were part elf in the flowing dress her father had given you as it accentuated your fair skin and elegant form.

Short you may be, due to your father's dwarfish genes, but stocky you were not. It was like you were an elf that just ceased to grow at a certain point in her childhood, leaving you with long and elegant limbs and slender shoulders.

She stepped forward and stopped your hands, “Allowing you to leave with your hair in such a state does your beauty a disservice. Please let me aid you with your burden.”

You blushed but didn’t protest as she directed you toward a chair and, once you were sitting, began the task of fixing the tangled mess. She brushed it back gently as she began, revealing your delicately pointed ears, “Ah so you are Peredhel.”

You sighed bitterly, “That is the nicest way of putting it, yes.” She wondered what you meant but did not press further as she sensed it was a sore topic for you.

A short while later you trailed along behind her on your way to where your group was eating, as Arwen’s skilled hands had made quick work of your matted hair. She went ahead of you onto the balcony when the pair of you reached it as you paused hesitantly before venturing forward to follow her.

Elrond couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his lips as all eyes turned to look you over, “It would seem you found our friend well, my daughter, as you were not absent long.”

Arwen gave her father a slight nod and mischievous smile, “So it would seem, Adar. She only needed some help with her hair to which I gladly obliged.”

Bilbo’s jaw hung open, much to the amusement of his dwarven cohorts, particularly Fili and Kili who were having trouble stifling snickers. You held yourself with grace but kept your eyes on the floor, uncomfortable with your current state of dress and uneasy with displaying your elven-like traits so openly.

The dress you wore flattered your form and brought out your eyes with subtle tones of purple and silver and your step was light and made only the softest of sounds in the matching flats that encased your feet. Arwen had outdone herself with your hair doing it up in full elven style with countless braids going this way and that through a mass of loose natural curls that fell freely down your back, leaving your pointed ears exposed.

Gandalf gave a small knowing smile, remembering your passionate hatred for dresses as you thought them entirely impractical, “My dear, come join us. Surely some food and drink shall do you more good than bad.”

You bypassed the tables where the dwarves sat, much to Bilbo’s dismay, and found a chair next to your mentor, forever by his side as an apprentice should be. You bowed gracefully to your host before offering, “Imladris is even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined, my Lord. It is truly a gift to be able to see it and I thank you for your hospitality.”

Elrond examined you closely, “Few Peredhel choose to come here if their elven parent chose to live among mortals.”

You gave a slight nod, “My mother may have chosen that path but her heart never left these halls, she spoke of it and you often in my childhood.” Gandalf rested a hand on your shoulder reassuringly and gave you a proud smile to which you returned a small, shy one, embracing your mother’s elven genes was not something you often did.

Elrond had questions that he dare not ask for fear of offending you, so you let your betters speak as you took in your surroundings, observing as always. Balin noticed that Bilbo’s eyes never left you and he nudged the young hobbit, “Quite a transformation from the clever little tomboy that camps with us each night isn’t it?”

Bilbo shook his head, trying to keep from staring any further, “Yes quite. If it weren’t for her height, I’d say she looked as though she belonged here, among the beautiful things of elves.”

“I doubt she sees it that way, laddie, in fact, I think our host’s attentions make her quite uncomfortable.” Balin offered, inclining his head in the direction of your fidgeting hands under the table that, from their angle, were clearly visible.

Balin was more right than he could have guessed as a moment later you caught the attention of Fili and Kili and inconspicuously pulled a face, to which they chuckled and then returned even more grotesque and odd faces very openly, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

Your host raised an eyebrow at the noise and you offered quiet apologies, waiting until he was no longer paying attention to you to return your own contorted face. They and a few other dwarves who were now watching erupted into loud laughter and when Gandalf looked at you, you feigned innocence.

The next time you looked up your eyes locked with Bilbo's and you sent him a small, shy smile, which he returned before Gloin flicked his ear, “If you think the young maiden fair you should tell her so.”

Bilbo startled, shaking his head, “What? I don’t- I mean she is but- I couldn't- she's-“

The dwarves erupted into laughter at his complete befuddlement just a Thorin excused himself from your table. You looked after him, feeling as though you shouldn't have returned or at least continued to cover your ears. Despite your doubts, you couldn’t help but join in a moment later when Bofur began to sing from atop a chair, your lips soundlessly mouthing the words to the merry tune as a wide grin crossed your face.

Elrond didn’t notice until you allowed your voice to join theirs in the last verse and as it finished, he commented, “Your voice rings out true and beautiful, a gift of your elven parentage I'm sure. If only you would put it to use singing something other than boisterous dwarven chants.”

You blushed a soft shade of pink, “A fair voice can be used for many things and still carry the same quality my Lord and, though my voice is not something I often share, in my time I have sung both the gentlest of elven songs and the roughest of bar rhymes for one without the other greatly diminishes one’s appreciation for each. Now if you’d please excuse me, I’m feeling rather tired.”

Gandalf gave a small smirk at your wise answer as Elrond gave you a farewell nod and watched you almost float away, “Your apprentice is quite something, Gandalf, wise beyond her years and able to slip between worlds with ease, where ever did you find her?”

Gandalf offered his host a secretive smile, “Sometimes the most valuable of gems is found in the lowest and darkest of places Elrond, I can offer nothing more for her tale is not mine to tell.”

Tags <3 :

@xxdragonagequeenxx

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